#that heavy debt on their kid’s shoulders

[simpcityy]

The Cost of Protection (Teen! Reader X Parental Figure! Sevika) Pt.1

Summary: After their father abandons them, leaving behind a massive debt, a privileged teenager from Piltover finds themselves in danger. Saved by Sevika, a ruthless woman from Zaun, the teenager quickly learns that their worlds couldn’t be more different. Tension simmers as their contrasting backgrounds—wealth and privilege versus survival and grit—create a rocky start. With no choice but to trust Sevika, the teenager follows her into the dangerous streets of Zaun, where they must both confront the past and navigate a growing, unlikely alliance.

Disclaimer: I do not own Arcane or any of its characters.

Word Count: 1.8K

Warnings: Use of semi-violence, use of (Y/N), use of you and later on (Y/N), they/them.

Author Notes: Don't you worry, I will finish off My Little Spawn, just wanted to get this one out and see what you guys' thing. Yes, I have fallen into the Sevika rabbit hole.... Thank you for reading this and if you enjoy it, please like and reblog. It helps my creative ideas grow and gain more audiences. Happy Holidays!

The sharp stench of chemicals and rust filled your lungs as you sprinted through Zaun’s labyrinthine streets. Your fancy Piltover boots, polished just days ago, were now caked in grime. A group of angry Zaunites shouted behind you, their heavy footsteps echoing through the alleyways.

You turned a corner and slipped into a narrow crevice between two buildings, your chest heaving as you tried to quiet your breathing. “Think, think!” you whispered to yourself. You were out of your element here, far from the safety of Piltover’s orderly streets. Whatever plan you thought you had when you first ventured down here—it was in shambles now. The sound of footsteps drew closer, and panic surged through you. Desperate, you darted out of your hiding spot and into another alley, only to crash into someone. The force sent you stumbling backward, but the person barely budged. “What’s this?” a low, gravelly voice asked.

You looked up and froze. The woman was towering, her broad shoulders framed by the dim glow of Zaun’s flickering lights. A metal arm, sleek and powerful, hung at her side. Sevika. “I—uh...” you stammered, struggling to find words. “Please. I need help.” Sevika raised an eyebrow, her expression hovering between amusement and annoyance. “Help?” She glanced behind you at the sound of your pursuers. “Looks like you’ve already got company, kid.”

“I didn’t mean to!” you blurted out. “It was a mistake—I got caught up in something, okay? If they catch me, I’m dead.” Her eyes narrowed as she studied you, her lips curling into a half-smile. “Piltover brat in Zaun... You’ve got guts, I’ll give you that. But guts won’t save you here.”

“Please,” you begged. “I’ll do anything. Just—just don’t let them catch me.”

For a moment, she said nothing, the tension stretching unbearably. Then, with a sigh, she grabbed you by the arm and pulled you into the shadows. “Fine,” she muttered. “But you’d better make yourself useful. If you’re more trouble than you’re worth, you’re on your own.” You nodded quickly, too relieved to question her motives. For now, Sevika was your only shot at surviving this nightmare, and you weren’t about to waste it.

The fight was over in minutes, but it felt like a lifetime. You clung to the corner of a rusted railing, heart pounding as Sevika dismantled the gang that had been chasing you. Her punches were heavy and deliberate, her movements efficient, like she’d done this a hundred times before—and she probably had.

You, on the other hand, could barely stand straight. The acrid stink of chem-fumes burned your nose, and the chaotic neon glow of Zaun’s lights seemed to twist and blur everything. This wasn’t Piltover. There were no clean streets or polished fixtures, no order or logic to the chaos around you.

Sevika loomed over the last of your pursuers, her cybernetic hand gripping his shirt. “Tell your crew if they’re thinking of picking a fight in my streets again, they won’t be walking out next time.” She shoved him hard, and he staggered away, limping after his beaten companions.

She turned to you, brushing her hands off like this was just another Tuesday. “You’re still here? Thought you’d be halfway back to Piltover by now.”

“I don’t know where I am,” you admitted, your voice barely more than a whisper.

“Figures,” Sevika muttered, leaning against a steel post. “Piltover kids like you think you can handle anything. But down here?” She gestured to the jagged skyline, where rusted pipes and crumbling buildings loomed like teeth. “This place eats people like you alive.”

You swallowed hard. “I didn’t mean to end up here. I thought I could... handle it.”

She laughed, a short, sharp bark. “You? Handle Zaun?” She shook her head, smirking. “You’re a walking target. That jacket alone probably cost more than most people make in a year down here.”

Looking down at your once-pristine coat, now stained with grime and torn at the hem, you flushed. She wasn’t wrong. Everything about you screamed Piltover—the clean lines of your clothes, the sheen of your boots, the polished accents of your speech. Here, it all felt like a joke, like armor that didn’t belong in a place where survival meant toughness, not style.

“I know I messed up,” you said, forcing your voice steady. “But... I can’t get back on my own. I don’t even know where the edge of Zaun is. Can you—” You hesitated, then pushed forward. “Can you just walk me to the border? Please?”

She stared at you for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Then, with a sigh, she pushed off the post. “Fine. But only because I don’t feel like scrubbing your blood off the street when someone else finds you.”

“Thank you,” you said quickly, falling into step behind her.

The walk was tense. Every turn she took seemed like a dead end, yet somehow she knew exactly where to go. The streets were cramped, lined with shanties and makeshift shops that sold things you couldn’t name. The people you passed—most of them gaunt and wary—eyed you like you were an alien, and maybe you were.

“You’ve never been out of Piltover, have you?” Sevika asked, glancing at you over her shoulder.

You shook your head. “Not really. I mean... I’ve heard stories about Zaun, but...”

“But you thought it’d be some exciting adventure,” she finished for you, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “Let me guess—you thought you’d find some hidden treasure, then waltz back home a hero.”

You winced. That wasn’t far from the truth. “Something like that.”

She snorted. “You don’t get it. Piltover doesn’t care about this place. You lot look down on Zaun from your fancy towers, call us criminals and savages. But down here? We survive because we have to. We don’t get the luxury of screwing up and walking away.”

Her words stung, but you couldn’t deny them. Everything about Zaun—its smell, its people, its chaos—felt raw and alive in a way Piltover never had. Yet it was also terrifying, like stepping into a storm you couldn’t control.

“Is it always this... hard?” you asked, gesturing vaguely at the crumbling buildings and endless machinery.

She gave you a sidelong glance, her expression softening for a fraction of a second. “It’s hard because it has to be. Weakness doesn’t last down here.”

You nodded, unsure what else to say. When the border finally came into view—a rusted gate separating Zaun’s sprawling chaos from the cleaner, towering structures of Piltover—you felt a wave of relief.

“Well,” Sevika said, stopping short. “Here’s your stop. Try not to get yourself killed on your way back to your shiny life.”

“Sevika,” you said, hesitating. “Thanks. Really. I owe you.”

“You owe me nothing,” she said, turning to leave. Then she paused, glancing back. “But next time you think about playing hero in a world you don’t understand? Don’t.”

With that, she disappeared into the shadows, leaving you at the edge of two worlds—one you didn’t belong to, and one you’d taken for granted.

The gates to your family estate stood ajar, their intricate ironwork swaying gently in the breeze. It should have been comforting to be back in Piltover’s pristine streets, surrounded by order and wealth, but unease prickled at your skin. Something was wrong.

You stepped through the gates, the familiar crunch of gravel under your boots echoing in the unnaturally silent courtyard. The grand fountain, usually a cascade of sparkling water, was dry. The windows of the house, which should have been glowing with warm light, were dark and lifeless.

Your footsteps faltered as you approached the door. “Garet? Miss Lila?” you called out, your voice thin in the stillness. No answer came.

Pushing open the door, you stepped inside. The house smelled faintly of dust, as if it had been days since anyone had been there to tend to it. Your eyes scanned the darkened hallway, the absence of familiar faces sending a chill down your spine.

Then, from the drawing room, a voice cut through the silence. “Welcome home, little one.”

You froze. That voice wasn’t familiar. It was smooth and calculated, tinged with a menace that made your stomach drop.

Turning slowly, you saw a man lounging in one of your father’s high-backed chairs, his legs crossed casually. He was dressed in a sharp, tailored suit that looked out of place in the disarray around him. A glass of wine swirled lazily in his hand, catching the faint light from the dying embers in the hearth.

“Who are you?” you asked, your voice trembling despite your effort to sound firm.

The man raised an eyebrow, his smile chilling. “A friend of your father’s. Or rather, his creditor. He owes me quite a lot.”

You swallowed hard. “Where is he? Where’s my father?”

The man’s smile widened, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Ah, yes. Your dear father. It seems he’s chosen to leave you in his place. He fled days ago, leaving behind his debts... and you.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. “He left?”

“Indeed,” the man said, leaning forward slightly. “He thought he could outrun his obligations, but I’m a patient man. When he disappeared, I decided to wait. And now, here you are. Convenient, don’t you think?”

Your mind raced, trying to process the betrayal. Your father had always been distant, consumed by his business dealings and high society life, but you never imagined he would abandon you like this.

“I don’t have anything to do with this!” you said, your voice cracking.

The man’s gaze hardened, the false warmth dropping from his expression. “Oh, but you do. Your family’s wealth, your lavish lifestyle—it’s all built on the promises your father made. Promises he failed to keep.” He stood, and you instinctively took a step back.

“I—I don’t have any money,” you stammered.

“No,” he agreed, his smile returning, sharper now. “But you’re worth something. Perhaps as collateral. Perhaps as leverage. Your father will turn up eventually, and when he does, he’ll find you under my care.”

The air seemed to thicken, your breaths coming faster as you backed toward the door. “I won’t go with you,” you said, though the words sounded weak even to your own ears.

“Let’s not be dramatic,” the man said, his tone smooth but with an edge of steel. “This can go one of two ways: you come quietly, or I make a scene. Either way, you’re coming with me.”

You glanced at the open door behind you, calculating your chances of escape. The streets of Piltover might be orderly, but they weren’t safe—not for someone like you, not anymore. Yet staying here felt like a death sentence of another kind.

Your father had abandoned you to pay his debts, leaving you in a world you barely understood. But you weren’t about to let yourself become another piece of his collateral.

[batwynn]

All the advertising I saw for Elemental:

Check out this wacky adventure between a fire person and a water person! A Tree Child Flirts with her! LOL! HEY LOOK CLOUD PEOPLE! *cartoon spring and honking noises*

Me: I don’t… want to watch that. Oh well, that’s fine.

Me actually watching it:

Oh wait, it’s a story of an immigrant family who come with nothing and build a community for themselves and their people and the weight of debt you feel to your parents who sacrificed for you to succeed but the way that that success sometimes isn’t what you want and how parental love can feel conditional when there’s a lack of clear communication and—

Me getting to the end: SHE BOWED AND HE BOWED BACK 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭💦💧💦💧💦💧💦💧💦🌊🌊🌊🌊🚿🚿🚿

[celenawrites]

I wanna write a Ghost/Soap/Reader fic but....set in A/B/O AU. (I rambled in tags about it)

[jinnie-ret]

we are family

stray kids x fem!reader (platonic)

genre: fluff

content warnings: alcohol mentions

word count: 1.7k

summary: having one brother in stray kids means you have 7 other brothers too

requested: @turtledove824

1K FOLLOWERS PLAYLIST 💚🖤

MAIN MASTERLIST

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It was fun being the youngest in the Kim family, having the best of both worlds with both an older sister and older brother, the two of them having the same supportive, playful energy as you did. Along with this, having 7 other older brothers practically adopt you as their own sibling was also great, even with the chaos it brought.

You were fortunate enough to visit Seungmin and the rest of the Stray Kids regularly when you had free time during university, and so that built up your bond even stronger with the other boys. With Seungmin, it meant that the teasing was even stronger, considering he's seen you complaining about assignments, boring lecturers and night life not hitting the same anymore.

"Maybe you've become boring now," he had teased you in the past, a joyful laugh always following right after when you would get annoyed and smack him on the shoulder.

This time round, however, you had completed your three year course at university, and the other boys had suggested they should have a celebratory dinner at Seungmin and Felix's dorm to congratulate you, Felix and Changbin's suggestion.

"Yah! You should do something nice for your younger sister! She always sends gifts for when we release an album, and that's with student debt too!" Changbin had righteously said a couple weeks ago. So here they were now, all eight Stray Kids gathered in the Seunglix household, waiting to greet you.

Seungmin was already having a mare. He was desperate keep the place tidy, already jokingly scolding Felix for the remnants of a late night gaming sesh being scattered across the coffee table in their lounge. Not to mention, where Stray Kids were, there was chaos, so just the mere fact of them all being together had him worried of the mess that works ensue.

"We should have just gone out somewhere instead," Seungmin complained watching his most of his hyungs and Jeongin messing around.

"Just be grateful I'm the one cooking, Kim Seungmin!" Minho called out from the kitchen.

"I swear this hyung hears everything..." Seungmin turned to the others with wide eyes and a shake of the head.

"Lino-hyung's cooking is so good though, you must be jealous you're not living with him anymore," Jisung smugly grinned, stretched across the sofa and his head in the maknae's lap.

"Maybe it's just a ploy to eat Minho's cooking again," Jeongin jokes making Jisung laugh as they giggled together.

"No no, it's for his sister," Chan shakes his head fondly.

"Yeah..." Hyunjin began with a laugh, "he doesn't want her to get food poisoning from his own cooking."

"Yah!" Seungmin yelled and pointed at Hyunjin with a crazy face that made the ferret like man cackle especially loudly.

"Yah! Did you just 'Yah' your hyungs?!" Changbin stood up suddenly with his muscly arms folded, but before any threat from Seungmin could be voiced, the doorbell rang.

He speed walks towards the door, opening it to see you with your heavy shoulder bag on the floor. You smile in relief that you could not only sit down and have a nice meal but be around your brothers.

"Thanks for letting me stay whilst you're busy," you smiled up at Seungmin after sharing a short hug.

"No, no, it's no problem, the guys are all here to see you by the way," Seungmin turned around, leaving the door open for you. A nice gesture, yes, but it didn't stop the stinkeye you gave him for not even offering to carry your- heavy, by the way- luggage inside. You rolled your eyes but brightened up upon seeing everyone else as you walked inside.

"Hey guys!"

And with that you were greeted with multiple hugs, some more gentle, like Chan, Changbin, Felix and Jeongin. Others, Hyunjin and Jisung being others, were a bit more overexcited and gave tight hugs.

"You don't greet me like this," Seungmin observed, arms folded as he perched on the arm of the sofa.

"Because we don't miss you," Jisung savagely commented, getting revenge on Seungmin by copying his same energy when they had previously changed dorms and split in half.

"Mm, something smells good, you cooked?" you asked, shocked that her brother could cook something that smelt so nice.

"Oh yeah, that was all me," Seungmin nodded, pride on his face.

"Kim Seungmin!" Minho sternly walked out with a spatula in hand, apron on and tied around his waist. He did a 180 when he saw you though, going soft, you could say. "Oh hey!"

"Knew there was one of you missing," you stood up to hug Minho quickly. "Want any help?"

"You should sit down and relax! You've been busy with uni, you can just rest now," Felix dismissed you with a warm heart, wanting to chat and catch up with you rather than have you get lost in the kitchen.

"That was like one month ago that it ended, haha," you shrugged his light concern off.

"Really? It's been that long?" Jisung's jaw dropped, slightly dramatically in your opinion but it made you grin nonetheless.

"Yeah, it feels really weird that it's over but I'm glad I can do nothing now, you know?" you replied, sinking into the sofa in relaxation.

"That's the way to go," Jisung nodded in approval, being someone that appreciates time for himself despite being more outdoors recently.

"No, there must be something you're doing right? Gotta keep yourself busy," Chan wondered, leaning forwards in his seat.

"No not really. Just been chilling, meeting friends..." you trailed off, which gave your brother the perfect time to pitch in.

"And drinking, a lot."

"You can't judge, you like a drink or two as well!" you bickered back.

"Yeah but not five," Seungmin smirked, seeing you riled up. He was only fueled further when the rest of the guys laughed at your siblings banter.

"Aish this oppa is really, geuuahh," you pulled an odd face, raising your fist jokingly at Seungmin.

"They're literally the same person," Jeongin claps his hand and laughs.

"Say it louder, Seungmin won't like that," Hyunjin plotted, leaning into the maknae, whilst the Kim siblings continued to argue.

"No but not five!" you started indignantly, "Well, it depends but..."

"What do you mean it depends?" Seungmin was exasperated at this point, wanting his point to be proven right.

"Well how much does a shot constitute for a whole drink...?" you scratched your neck Felix tapped you in the shoulder with a laugh.

"Aigoo... your liver will be.... Pwahhh!" Seungmin makes a bursting explosion motion with his hands in your face.

"Hey no it won't-!" you shoved his hands away laughing.

"Puppies stop fighting and eat some food," Minho called from the kitchen, which started a chain reaction of making everyone enter the kitchen and sit down at the dining table. Makeshift dining table, mind you. It was a creative ensemble of a small dining table, a desk, and a couple of side tables too. And that wasn't even getting started on the chair situation.

"Why does your table have a hole in it?" you poked your hand in and out of the desk, a deep look if concentration on your face.

"Oh that's my gaming desk and the cables go through there," Felix excitedly explained.

"What happened to your setup then?" you looked at him in disbelief.

"On the floor..." Felix sheepishly looked down.

"Oh you shouldn't have to have done that!" you grin at him affectionately.

"I think Jeongin is sat on an old speaker right now?" Chan questioned in bewilderment.

"Wahh we really let Seungmin and Felix live together," Changbin laughed.

"We didn't have time to order a bigger table! You're lucky you've got a chair," Seungmin complains, waving everyone off with his hand.

"Oh what's this? Seungmin complaining again?" Minho teased as he brought in the food, serving some kimchi, rice and jajangmyeon.

"Yah hyung!" Seungmin slapped the table, triggering a laugh from you. "Why are you laughing too?"

"Nothing, nothing," you shrugged, not able to hide the smile creeping up on your face. However, your brother got triggered, and so a piece of hot kimchi came flying your way, only to go through the hole in Felix's gaming desk

"Goal!!!" Han and Hyunjin cheer at the same time, making them look at each other in awe and silence before they burst out laughing.

"So loud," Jeongin groans and covers his ears, but when he moves his hands he accidentally knocks over some water onto poor Chan, who had been happily tucking into some food. He got startled so much so that he stood up from the chill of the water hitting his lap but inevitably fell back into the inflatable floaty he was sat on. One that was probably taken from a SKZ Code episode.

The air cap popped and Chan sat their in defeat as he sank to the floor, deflating. Minho and Changbin snorted at the chaos, happily eating where they were sat in normal, wooden dining chairs. Minho had tried offering the normal chair to you but you insisted he got an at least stable chair as he had done all the cooking himself.

Plus, you were quite happy on your fluffy beanbag.

"Arghh we can't eat here anymore! Go into the lounge please," Seungmin whined at the mess, disbelief returning once again.

The boys nod, some stifling laughs as they carry plates and glass into the lounge. It probably would have been easier if you all ate in there in the first place, you thought.

Felix remained in his seat, almost frozen at the mess of their attempted dinner.

"Seungmin I think your roommate is traumatised," you waved a hand in front of Felix's face.

"So am I," Seungmin nods along and pats Felix on the shoulders.

"I'll help tidy," you stand, scanning the kitchen to find some kitchen towel to mop up the mess.

*No no, it's only a small mess, they just made it seem like a lot more haha," Seungmin chuckled at the chaos his bandmates had brought.

"Ok... But you know it wouldn't have happened if you didn't throw that piece of kimchi at me," you laughed as you left, Felix following, seeing it as his time to escape.

"Actually no get back in here!" Seungmin has his hands on his hips, yet he was stood there alone for a good few seconds before he gave up and joined everyone in the lounge.

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tagged: @skz-streamer @kiraisastay @kpopmenace143 @haodore @arloo00 @dunno-wut-to-do @splat00z @his-angell @2minstan @skzoologist @lovingchan @atinyniki @writingforstraykids @lilmisssona @astraysimp @lixie-phoria @theo4eve @linoalwaysknows @royal-shinigami @jolly04 @turtledove824 @yangbbokari @thisrandomgoofy15 @lieslab @hannamoon143 @arumlilyeclipse

[baby-tini]

OG Timeline Mikey is secret F-buddies with Single mom reader and falls for her but doesn’t know she has kids until he sees her out with them one day x

Pls & Ty x

TW- small indication of murder, a hint of stalking Sorry this is a little rushed, I can do it over for you another time if you'd like.

The day you met Manjiro Sano, it was an accident, the man you were with, Yaku Akuma, had a debt to Toman, but more importantly, Manjiro Sano, himself. He never told you anything about the debt muchless the reason, it was for gambling, he had lost thousands of dollars in just slots alone, so he took out a loan from Toman with the promise too pay it back, but that obviously didn't happen. It had taken him days after the expectation date, for the money, for him too even tell you.

It had been at his apartment, it was a casual hang-out, late at night when there was a loud bang on the door and a man screaming through it. He had jumped off the couch in a panic, grabbing your hand and ushering you into the bedroom with a plead too stay quiet while he dealt with the situation. You could hear screaming from multiple different while you sat in the bedroom, hoping nothing bad happened as you sent a text to your nanny that was watching your son, briefing her on the situation and too make sure Haruto was safe. It was when you hid your phone that you heard multiple gunshots and a cease to the screaming, you had bit at your sleeve too stop the yelp that clawed at your throat in surprise.

It was quiet, for what felt like hours, before the bedroom door swung open and in walked a man with blonde, slicked back hair and the biggest black eyes you've ever seen. He stared at you for a while before approaching, a gun on his hip as you began too plead for you life, promising money if he just let you live, but he had ignored you, sitting on the bed, in front of you and asking for your relation to Yaku. When you explained, through tears, that he was just a casual acquaintance and there wasn't much relation between the two of you. The man looked unamused, like he didn't believe you but had told you too leave and go home, moving off the bed as you had vigorously nodded, exclaiming your appreciation through choked-out sentences.

It was two weeks after that when you saw him again, while working at a bar and tending to customers. Your co-worker had approached you with the plead of serving a few men in the VIP section, stating that she was too busy with familial problems and had too leave. You had locked eyes with the man when you sat a bottle of Clase Azul Reposado Tequila and Don Julio 1942 on the table. You had left as quickly as possible when you locked eyes with him, onyx stared you down and made you shift uncomfortably. Quickly brushing past the red satin curtains that concealed the room, you rushed outside too get fresh air, knocking past people as you spewed quick apologies.

Rapidly throwing open the back door of the club as you dig in your pocket for the Camel Blues you keep stashed for stressful times. The shaking of your hands making it harder too light but quickly sucking on the stick when you do. You find the first inhale of smoke refreshing and calming as your shoulders slump down slightly in relief. Your head leaning back against the cold brick wall as you breathe the smoke in the air. Only too be cruelly interrupted by the same man that had you shaking in the first place. Manjiro Sano, he stands proudly, head up and shoulders high as he stares you down, his eyes intrigued but mostly empty. His presence intimidating as you swallow and back up, a couple feet. He watches you, his eyes sharp as he steps closer, his heavy steps sounding heavy on damp pavement. He reaches for you, flinching away, you curl a little. He doesn't back down though, just proceeds to move his hand closer and brush away lose strands of your hair from your face. He took you to a hotel that night, with the promise too not kill you, claiming he just wanted a couple answered. With the knowledge that he could kill you and a kid too thing about at home, you got in the car. The drive there was silent, not awkward but silent. Excluding the occasional instructions to his driver. The hotel was nice, the rooms even nicer as you sat on the comfy linen bed, the pillows tucked into satin pillowcases. They wasn't much talking as he pushed you onto the bed, nipping at your neck as he took off his Chanel suit jacket. He had fucked you all over that room that night, fucking into you relentlessly as held one of your legs over his hips. His teeth making bruising marks on your throat as he kissed at the side of your face, sweat rolling down your temple. You had continued your escapades a countless of times in that hotel from then on. Meeting up too get drinks only for him too later on fuck you over the bathroom sink before dragging you over to the bed and fucking you on the edge. Your chest laying flat against the sheets as his hand held your held into the sheets, his free hand squeezing your hips as he fucked you stupid. The screaming of his name barley muffled by the sheets with how loud you were. He grew too care about you, he was around you so much, he couldn't really prevent the feeling of lust turning into adoration and love. He tried his best too spend as much time with as he could but he was a very busy man, so he had his men watch you. When he was alerted by one of his men that you were out and close by, he decided too end his meeting a little early as he had his driver take to him. He froze when he saw you with a child, no older then three, the kid was jumping around on the jungle gym, falling down the slide on his belly as you watched and played with the boy. Raising him up in your arms as you kissed his cheek in a multitude as the boy giggled and attempted too swat you awa. He decided from there on, in that car, he was gonna be a father, readying too take on the life as a father if it meant you'd be his. Forever.

[steddielations]

“Evening, sir.”

It’s the Harrington boy. Again.

“I told you, son, it’s Wayne,” he manages a smile, harder to do these days, like chipping it out of cement and dusting it off. But he gets it done.

Steve doesn’t have the Henderson boy with him today, that’s a first.

“Where’s the curly one?” He steps aside, letting Steve into the trailer door, more rickety than before. No money left to fix it after repairing the bulk of the earthquake damage.

“Dustin? He doesn’t wanna watch the game, and trust me, you don’t wanna listen to that kid complaining the whole time,” Steve walks by, sorta chuckling to himself, “I always miss the replay ‘cause he makes me change the channel to those D&D cartoons during the commercials, just like—”

He stops in front of the couch, looking over his shoulder at Wayne like he’s afraid he messed up somehow. Wayne noticed that look often from him, less and less, but still often. All that confidence he carries can drop on a dime, sorta reminded him of—

“Like Ed?”

“Yeah. Sorry.”

“S’alright. I don’t mind talking about him if you want,” Wayne manages another concrete smile, but he means it. Steve always waits for him to bring up Eddie first, like he doesn’t want to remind him if it ain’t on his mind, but Wayne likes to be reminded. It’s nice to feel like he’s not the only one missing him. “But the game was yesterday and y’know the cable’s out.”

“Yep, got it covered. I uh, I taped it,” Steve fishes a VHS tape from his back pocket. Fancy. Wayne would worry about him using that for his sake, but he has a feeling Steve’s folks aren’t around enough to notice.

“The Colts win?”

Steve flips the tape around, “Haven’t watched it, so we can bet on it if you’re feeling lucky.”

It doesn’t feel so dry and heavy when Wayne laughs a bit then, waving Steve to go ahead and start up the TV. He already caught the game on the radio, but he bets on the Colts anyway. Loser’s supposed to do the dishes after they scrounge together some soup, but Steve does them anyway.

Wayne would make a stink about it but he can tell Steve just wants to help, to feel like he’s helping. Same thing when the Henderson boy comes around to see him, wanting to hear all the stories, even the scary ones. So Wayne doesn’t mind letting Eddie’s friends feel like they’re helping him.

His nephew didn’t have many friends. Real, cover-your-six kinda friends. The boys he played his music with, they’ve come by a couple times, Wayne always liked Jeff despite the racket. That older fella that’s doing time now, Wayne wasn’t too fond of. And some of Eddie’s dungeon buddies he talked about were the only few.

Now, casual acquaintances? Anybody who didn’t have anywhere else to sit when he had an empty spot at his table? Sure, Eddie had those in spades.

His boy was good at that, putting on a good old show for his crowd, on a stage to keep his distance. That damn Al did him in good, never could trust easily, having his old man pop up and drag him into his mess before he took off again. And Eddie’s poor momma would’ve done right by him, if she hadn’t gotten sick so young.

Took Wayne a long time to get Eddie to depend on him, to trust this was his place to stay and he didn’t have to earn it, Wayne wasn’t just filling his head to scheme something out of him.

Love ain’t a transaction that way. He wasn’t ever any good at saying it, but he tried to show Eddie the best he could.

His boy though, always carried a debt with him. Like he owed Wayne something for taking him in, had to graduate quick and make it outta here, do something with the better life he gave him. Al dug him in so deep, Eddie stayed roped into whatever his latest scheme was (the cars, the dealing, the gambling, thank God Eddie wasn’t there when the goddamn robbery went wrong, 25 to life) like maybe it’d be enough to keep him from running off again.

The odds have never been in favor of people like them, poor folk in a town that’s stuck in its ways, where everybody’s just like their old man, but Al made his choices and Wayne made his. Rest their mother’s soul, she did her best. Part of Wayne was relieved when Al got locked up, at least Wayne had a better chance of keeping Eddie from going down the same path, try to raise him right.

Being a Munson wasn’t a crime. He didn’t owe a darn thing to anybody. Eddie could graduate at his own pace, play whatever games and music he wanted, dress however, that didn’t mean he was up to no good. And a lot of boys get into dealing for a little easy extra money around here, he was gonna grow out of that just like Wayne did.

It worked until all this mess.

That’s why Eddie ran off after what happened to the poor Cunningham girl. He gets spooked when something goes wrong, like it’ll be the last straw he can’t make up for so he runs off. Like the first time he didn’t make senior year, went and hid out with that Rick fella that Wayne never did like, got Eddie deep into that business he tried to keep a secret.

‘Course Wayne knew. He knows exactly what and where his boy hides. If those damn cops weren’t tailing him, he would’ve gone straight to get him.

That was before he knew it would turn into all of this. Now he wishes he would’ve done it anyway. Gone right to Eddie, told him it wasn’t his fault that everything got all turned upside down. Told him he knew he was innocent right from the get-go, and got him away from this rotten old town.

But he didn’t.

He didn’t go get his boy.

So now he’s just trying to be there for Eddie’s boys, since he can’t.

“You have a night shift tonight right? Gonna put on a pot of coffee,” Steve says once he’s finished up the dishes.

Wayne hums. There’s usually more noise going on during these visits. Steve’s still alright at carrying on, even without the Henderson boy’s chatter to fill any gaps.

It was strange, the first time the two of them showed up. Wayne knew Eddie was close with Dustin, but he didn’t have a clue that he was chumming it up with the Harrington boy. Just don’t seem like the same type of company. He might not believe it if it weren’t so obvious that Steve cared about his boy. He suspected before, but now with Steve showing up here alone, he knows.

Steve misses Eddie in a different sorta way than Dustin.

“No cream or sugar, right?” Steve looks humored by that as he passes the mug of black coffee to him, “How are you related to Eddie again?”

Wayne’s mouth turns upward, remembering his nephew’s god awful sweet tooth. He picked up a box of Honeycombs the other day in the store out of habit. “Just happened to be standin’ there when they beamed him down.”

That gets a good chuckle out of Steve. Nothing wistful weighing it down and Wayne’s glad, watching Steve pour himself a cup of coffee too.

Then bitter-sweetness swirls in his chest, seeing the mug that Steve chose for himself. Must’ve dug it out from one of the boxes Wayne hadn’t hung back on the walls yet. The earthquake did a number on his collection. That Garfield one was the only one he’d gotten around to gluing back together.

“What is it?” Steve asks, cup paused at his mouth.

“Ah nothin’ just,” Wayne waves it off, “That’s the mug Ed always used.”

“Oh, I can use a diff—”

“Nah, nah go ‘head. It’s fine.”

Unconvinced, Steve takes a wary sip.

Mostly these days, Wayne just feels like a watch without a ticker, a chest with nothing beating inside it. He can’t name the feeling he has at seeing Eddie’s old mug being used by someone else, but at least it’s something.

“Y’know, he used to put everything in that sucker. Soda pop, soup, cereal, you name it,” Wayne shakes his head, mouth twitching into a smile, “I’d have to wrestle it away from him just to give it a good washing. It’s well loved, alright. Leaks now.”

As if on cue, Steve has to grab a napkin to sit underneath it.

Wayne lets out an amused hum, “He uh— Didn’t have much stability ‘fore he came to live with me, so he’d get real attached to things like that.”

Carried around a stuffed dragon they picked up at a garage sale ‘til Wayne couldn’t sew the wings back on anymore. Never wanted to throw anything away. Got real anxious about Wayne going to work sometimes, even when he was too old for a sitter. Held onto him saying “Stay home just today, Dad, please.” Which, he didn’t mind Eddie calling him that. It always softened him up, made him give in. Wishes now that he’d told Eddie upfront. Maybe he never would’ve stopped.

“Thought for sure he’d marry that damn guitar one day.”

Steve nearly sputters his coffee, laughing at that, “Yeah, those two are made for each other.”

It’s nice, seeing the way that story lit Steve up. Sorta like his boy can still make someone happy. Hurts like hell that he ain’t here to do it himself, but Wayne was always good at telling stories. That’s where Eddie learned it from.

“I’m uh,” Steve deflates after a minute, looking down at the mug, “God, I’m just really sorry, Wayne.”

“Yeah. I’m sorry too, Steve,” he says, because, well.

Wayne gets the feeling that his boy was Steve’s boy too.

Read the rest on Ao3

[charlie-lec-stories]

Invisible string // CL16

Pairing: Charles Leclerc / Vettel!Sister

Summary: While on a difficult time in his life, Sebastian discovers that his family is way bigger than he thought.

Warnings: Alcohol and drugs consumption, strong language.

Author’s Note: This story is and is not about Charles, but it's a nice story and I thought that it would be nice to include it on this blog. I'm not comfortable with writing about the death of real people, so even though reader is Sebastian's little sister, I changed the names of his parents and to feel more comfortable with the plot. You have to remember that this stories are originally done for my own fictional characters and I adapt them to the F1 world to include Charles on them, so when I write about Sebastian's family I am not speaking of the real one. Rate: +16 (sensitive language and mature activities)

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"Sebastian, I'm so sorry for your loss". It was the tenth time he had heard that phrase in an hour, and even though he was grateful for so many people being there for him, he was sick and tired of the condolences. He smiled sadly at yet another friend of his father, Klaus, and quickly looked around, searching for Hanna, his wife, to save him from the situation. He found her at the other side of the room, she instantly understood him and made her way to where he was. She started some light conversation with the older man, sending Sebastian a complicit look, giving him his cue to leave. He swiftly escaped to the kitchen and hid there for a few minutes. 

"Hi, kid". Sebastian looked up to find Henry, his father's best friend. The British man was like family to Sebastian and now that his father had joined his mother in Heaven, Henry felt like the last piece of family Sebastian had. "I've been looking for you".

"Well, you found me. I thought I had done a better job at hiding though. I'm not really in the mood for more condolences". Henry pulled away a chair and sat next to him, patting his back lightly, trying to be as comforting as he could.

"You don't need to hide from me, Seb". They both laughed softly, the tension on Sebastian's back loosening a bit.

"I know. I'm just... overwhelmed, I think". He let out a long sigh, and Henry squeezed his shoulder, his heavy hand finding a home there.

"I know, I felt the same when my father passed away. My brother was a good help at the moment, he took care of everything, I just felt like it all was too much. I actually went to your father's and hid there for hours. Came back home, stoned as fuck, just in time to put the old man to the ground". Sebastian smiled, he knew that story, his father had told him about the time he and Henry smoked weed like two Woodstock hippies the day Henry's father died. "Klaus was a good friend, but sometimes I feel a big debt with my big brother, he really stepped up that day".

"You're lucky to have a brother to be there for you at a time like that. I think that's one of the cons of being a single child". Sebastian felt Henry tense up, and the warm hand that was once on his shoulder, now slipped away, as if Henry was unable to maintain the contact. "What? What is it?".

"Seb...". The tension grew so thick that Sebastian had to move away slightly. Something was wrong, terribly wrong. "You know I wasn't just your father's best friend, I was also his lawyer". The younger man nodded slowly, his narrowed and confused eyes focused on the older man. "I may just give you this now, I would rather see you next week for the will's reading with this information a little bit more processed".

"What are you talking about?". Henry looked inside his coat, taking an envelope out of his pocket and handing it to Sebastian, who took him with trembling hands. "Henry, what is this?".

"That's a letter your father wrote to you, twenty years ago". Sebastian took the letter out and started reading right away.

"A sister? A baby sister?". Henry saw the array of emotions that passed the younger man's eyes: confusion, anger, sadness, disappointment, happiness. Sebastian felt every emotion he was capable of in just a few seconds, as his father's words sunk in. The letter was about the time when his parents had briefly separated and Klaus had gone to Henry's home in England to spend a few weeks, while he decided what to do about his marriage. He wrote about how he met a lovely woman, and that after one night with her, he decided that he was getting a divorce, but then, a 9 years old Sebastian called him and asked him when he was coming home and he understood that he loved his life in Germany, with Sebastian and Lina, his wife. He left the lovely woman behind and went back home, just to get a call a year later, letting him know that he had a daughter but the lovely woman wanted nothing to do with him. The letter finished with Klaus begging for Sebastian's forgiveness. 

"He left half of everything he had to that little girl, who's not so little now. He asked me to find her once he passed away and let her know that there were some things that he wanted her to have, but, most importantly, he wanted you both to meet". Sebastian, who just then noticed that he was crying, wiped his tears away angrily.  

"Why? Why hide this from me?". Henry gathered the courage to place his hand on Sebastian again and ran his finger through the grieving man's blonde locks.

"Because he was too scared to do anything about this while he was alive, but he knew that you deserved to know the truth".

A week later, Sebastian was sitting in Henry's office, Hanna by his side and Henry drinking a cup of tea in front of him while they waited for the girl to show up. Henry found her in the same town Klaus had met her mother, a little town that was Henry's home for a short period of time in 1996. It was crazy, but she was born on July 3rd, 1997, exactly on Sebastian's 10th birthday. He had always wanted a little sibling so it kind of felt like a birthday present, one he had hoped to know about way sooner. They waited but as the minutes passed, Sebastian started to lose hope on ever meeting his sister. What if she didn't show up? What if she didn't want to meet him? Henry sent the letter, but she never answered. What if she just didn't care about her father's side of the family? Hanna grabbed his hand and he felt a little bit of comfort, but the fear in his heart could only subside with the mystery girl's presence. There were some muffled voices that rang on the other side of the door and Hanna turned around expectantly to see who they were, but Sebastian couldn't move, not even when the door opened and his wife gasped, him too afraid to turn around. 

"Good afternoon, is this Mr. Henry Wood's office?". Even if the thick Northern British accent took him by surprise, Sebastian was still petrified, and he saw Henry get up to welcome the people who walked in. 

"Yes, I'm Henry. You must be Eleanor". Two sets of feet could be heard and Sebastian understood that his sister didn't show up alone. They both reached the desk and just then, he could move to look up. There was an older woman, in her 50s, dark reddish hair and green eyes looking down at him with an expression he couldn't quite read. Next to her was a younger girl, her face shared a lot of features with him, she was unmistakably his sister, a Vettel without a doubt. It was strange, looking at her, a complete stranger, and still finding himself looking back. Her hair was lighter than her mother's, but they both shared green eyes. 

"Yes, I'm Eleanor. This is Y/N". The girl shook Henry's hand, but she sat down not even looking at Sebastian once. 

"Seb, if you don't mind, I'd like to start with Y/N's part of the will". Hanna had to elbow him, because he was zoning out looking at the girl.

"Yes". He finally said, looking back at Henry and clearing his throat. "Of course I don't mind".

Henry took his time, properly going through every part of Klaus' will. The older German left the summer house, one car and half of his bank account to his estranged daughter, and the rest to Sebastian, which included the family home, one car and the other other half of the money. Y/N never said a word, if it wasn't for him constantly looking at her, he could have sworn that she wasn't even there. Eleanor spoke up a few times, asking about legal processes and such, she sounded like a sweet woman, but Sebastian could see that she was trying to put on her mean face, doing her best to protect her child. Hanna had excused herself in the middle of everything, a chaotic call from their children sending her out of the office to play referee between their arguing toddlers. Henry walked out once the will was completely read, telling them that he needed to grab some other papers for them to sign. Eleanor started telling her daughter about what they were going to do with the summer house, that they could keep it or sell it, that if she wanted to sell it, they could rent a hotel room and use the money to do some remodeling and sell it for a higher price. Y/N spoke for the first time, agreeing with the selling.

"You're welcome to stay with us-". Sebastian started, but Eleanor cut him off.

"No, thank you". She had a hard look on her face, but the broken gesture on Sebastian's softened her a little. "I made a choice twenty years ago, and I stand by it, Sebastian. She's not a Vettel".

"But-". Eleanor got up and pulled her daughter with her.

"I said no. She's been more than fine without her father's influence. She won't start with this now". With that, she started to walk away, ready to wait outside for the final papers.

"I am not my father". Sebastian's angry tone made the two women turn around to look at him. He was still sitting, his body resting on the back of the chair, his gaze on the ground, until he looked up at them, tears threatening to spill out. "I was lied to, for twenty years. You knew we existed, I didn't. I was robbed of the chance of meeting her sooner, of watching her grow. I was robbed of the chance of being a brother, of forming a bond. So excuse me for trying to start now! Excuse me for wanting to get to know my sister!". Eleanor exchanged a look with Y/N, then, the girl walked up to Sebastian. The staring contest went on for a few seconds, then, she sat back down and wrote her phone number on a paper that she found on the desk. 

He was shocked when Y/N showed up at his door the next month without Eleanor, her mother still choosing to stay in a hotel instead of Sebastian's house. Even though it was unrealistic, when he let her into his home, he kind of expected them to click instantly, but his bubble quickly popped. The following two weeks were a disaster, Sebastian learned that they not only had nothing in common, she actually seemed to dislike him. If he said white, she said black, if he said sweet, she said sour. Sometimes he wondered if she was doing it on purpose, just to start a fight. He had never met anyone so different to him and they argued for almost every little thing on a daily basis. He complained to Hanna every night, he didn't know what to do, he wanted his sister to like him, he wanted to build something great with her, but she only pushed him away. But Hanna told him something that made him keep fighting: "She could go back home whenever she wanted, she could even go to her mother, staying just fifteen minutes away from us, still, every night, she chooses to stay here. She may be having a hard time letting you in, but she's not backing down and neither should you".

There was one thing that he noticed she couldn't hate about his life, and that was racing. Every day she walked down the stairs, he could hear her stop for a few minutes to stare at his pictures on the walls, most of them from his Red Bull days, but some from his now Ferrari era. He could tell that she liked Formula 1, even if she tried to hide it, he could see the spark in her eyes whenever she lingered a little too long on a trophy in the living room, or when he and Hanna went over the last details of the new season starting next month. She always seemed to listen to those conversations without making any mean remarks. That shared interest gave Sebastian an idea, he could take her with him to the races, maybe she would like him a little better if she could see him in his element, doing what he loved and maybe showing off a little. It was also a chance to spend more time with her, just the two of them, getting to know each other better. It could be his chance to be an older brother. She accepted the offer, not before making a whole scene of her showing almost zero interest and telling him that she was doing it more for the chance of meeting cute drivers than to spend time with him. He pretended to believe her, whatever means necessary if it meant her spending time with him.

"Y/N, are you ready?". He yelled from the bottom of the stairs, his German punctuality stressing over the fact that she was taking her sweet time, guaranteeing them to be 10 minutes late for the time he had to be at the airport. 

"Stop yelling! Jesus, you're insufferable". She complained as she walked down the stairs, her luggage heavy and hitting the edge of every step. He almost puked when she stood in front of him and saw what she was wearing. She had a white shirt with a Mercedes logo and number 44, Lewis Hamilton's name written on the back. She smirked at him and he looked back at her seriously, not finding anything funny in her little act. 

"You know my number is 5, and I drive for Ferrari, right?". He loved Lewis, he was one of his closest friends, but there was no way in hell his sister was wearing that to the paddock.

"I know". She simply stated and walked past him, saying goodbye to Hanna and going to the car. He spent the whole ride to the airport thinking of a good excuse to give to his Team Principal about why she was wearing that, but there was nothing that he could come up with.

"Well... That's... something". Maurizio, his team principal said as Y/N sat on the jet and put on her earphones, ignoring everyone.

"She's not my biggest fan". Sebastian admitted, sighing as he looked at his sister buckling up.

"I can see that". Maurizio laughed a bit, finding the situation a lot funnier than Sebastian.

"I already like her". He heard Kimi, his teammate, add without looking up from his phone, his eyes hidden behind dark sunglasses. It was going to be a long season.

To say that a white Mercedes shirt stood out in the sea of red would be an understatement. She was like a LED sign saying "I hate Sebastian Vettel'' and her little number caught the paddock's attention instantly. Walking into the paddock, she quickly ran away from him, going who knows where while he did everything that was required before the first practice. He spent all Friday without seeing her, until it was time to go back to the hotel and on Saturday, she was already making friends around and ignoring him. Her insistent effort to pretend like he didn't exist only fueled him to win, still, Lewis got pole and Kimi followed the Brit on the starting grid. Sebastian was fuming when he saw Y/N grin as she looked at him, satisfied with his anger. She was a menace, like a Vettel, but he could be even pettier, that's why, on Sunday, he ended up winning the race and enjoying the little tantrum she did before going back to the car locking herself in until he was ready to take her back to the hotel.

The next race, Sebastian got pole and won the race, enjoying more the fuming expression of his little sister than the win itself. But then came China and he ended up 8th even though he got pole position and it was her time to laugh. After almost a month hanging around the paddock, Y/N had made a lot of friends, especially with the drivers that were close to her age. She quickly befriended Max Verstappen and Pierre Gasly, who introduced her to the Alfa Romeo rookie, Charles Leclerc. Sebastian liked Charles, he was a talented kid and there was this rumor, almost confirmed, that he was the one that would take Kimi's seat the following season and become Sebastian's teammate. But Charles was a boy, and the German soon discovered he didn't like her sister hanging out with boys. The next two races ended up with Lewis taking the P1 spot and Sebastian wasn't sure what he hated more, losing or his sister being so incredibly happy with Lewis' wins. Maybe what he hated more was Y/N going out every weekend, clubbing with her new favorite drivers while he waited awake and stressed out for her to go back. She was twenty, it wasn't like he could ground her, but she was still a kid in his eyes and the idea of her drinking with those three boys wasn't his happiest thought. 

"I'm going out". She informed him casually, then, he walked out of the bathroom and grabbed his jacket. She looked at him, frowning.

"Let's go". He said as he walked to the door.

"What are you doing?".

"It's obvious, innit?". Replied, smirking and making fun of her accent.

"There's no way you're coming with us". She crossed her arms and they heard her phone ring with a message notification, probably one of the boys telling her that they were outside to pick her up. 

"I'm not asking you. Answer the text, tell your friends that I'm taking us to the club". She opened her mouth to complain, but he saw her face morph into a big grin.

"Sure, Seb". She took her phone out of her purse and quickly replied, with a suspicious look, she watched her walk out of the room and he followed her. 

He learned that night that, if he pushed her buttons, he'd probably end up paying a high price. She drank her weight in alcohol and made out with half the club, she even got into a fight with a guy way bigger than her, and he was the one that ended up with a sore cheek. He had to literally tear her away from Max Verstappen, and then from Charles Leclerc, and somehow, from three other guys. She did everything she knew would make him mad and the next morning, she ignored his 20 minutes long sermon about her actions. But, she didn't win. He kept joining her on her clubbing and made it his mission to keep her away from trouble - and Charles' disrespectful hands, well she wasn't exactly complaining, but Sebastian still didn't like it-. 

It was around their birthdays when they discovered that they were actually having fun together and, before they could notice, they ended up walking out of clubs laughing their asses off. The press had a field day with them, but Ferrari didn't seem to care, and it wasn't like he was getting in any trouble with Hanna for his nights out. Austria was the race before their birthdays and Max won, Sebastian coming in third. The Dutch celebrated shoving his tongue down Y/N's throat and Sebastian decided that he had enough, he could deal with the fights and the drunken mischief, but she was definitely not dating a driver. They spent their birthdays together in England, the first time they had a good time together without alcohol doing its magic. Charles Leclerc sent a gift and it had Sebastian rolling his eyes in annoyance, but it still was a sweet gesture, one he noticed his sister liked a lot. Eleanor was in a better mood, and Sebastian could appreciate a sweeter side of her. It was his best birthday so far. Thirty-one felt great and being an older brother felt even better, even if they still were having some issues. 

The next weekend was Silverstone, and the Vettel siblings fell into their previous dynamic. It was Y/N home race and Sebastian wanted to win it more than anything, but she still wore Lewis' shirt. The Brit got pole position, but Sebastian won the race and, for the first time, his sister congratulated him for his win. They hugged tightly, he even let some tears roll down his face, it was their first time ever hugging. They didn't go out that weekend, instead, the party kids decided to join the Vettels for a nice and tranquil dinner. Sebastian got to appreciate better the developing relationship between his sister and Charles, how the young driver was slowly but surely winning her over, and he didn't like it, Sebastian didn't like it one bit. He thought he disliked Max, but he discovered that he could dislike Charles even more. Hanna noticed, because if there was someone on Earth that knew Sebastian like the back of their hand, that was Hanna. She could see the possessive spark in his eyes, the way he tensed as he watched Charles whisper something in Y/N's ear while she giggled. She knew that he was close to exploding, but to her surprise, Sebastian didn't do anything.

The following six wins from Lewis were interrupted by Sebastian's win in Spa, and again, even if she was still wearing white, his sister was there to congratulate him. He could feel that they were getting closer, but as their relationship got stronger, so did hers with Charles. By the end of the 2018 season, Sebastian finished second in the championship and his sister had officially started dating Charles, who was confirmed to become his teammate for the 2019 season. It was going to be uncomfortable, especially since Sebastian had made clear that he didn't like the relationship. He was convinced that Charles would cheat on her, because there were very few drivers that could be trusted and, from Sebastian's perspective, Charles wasn't in that selective group. She spent Christmas with the Vettels and her mother and New Year in Monaco, with the Leclercs. Sebastian was fuming, but he did what he could to keep himself in check. His relationship with Y/N was better, but she still kept him at arms distance, she still didn't trust him fully. 

There were no words to express just how happy Sebastian was when he saw her dressed in Ferrari red, but the number 16 was definitely bugging him. Him and Charles got asked a lot about the tension of being teammates and in-laws in press conferences, and the German did what he could to play it cool, even if he was constantly day-dreaming about cutting Charles' hands off. Charles was nice and seemed to admire Sebastian a lot, he was a four times world champion after all, but the older driver just couldn't stand the Monegasque. It was a shame, because if it wasn't for Charles' relationship with Y/N, Sebastian was sure that he would like Charles. The thing is, he was jealous, he hated the fact that she trusted Charles more than him, even if she had known him for less time. The couple shared so much, and Sebastian just wanted his sister to share just one little thing with him, but they were in this weird position where she accepted him as her brother, but they weren't close. Charles had gone to her house, been in her room, knew what she liked, knew childhood stories and shared some inside jokes with her. Sebastian didn't know anything more than what he could guess from the time they had known each other, but she refused to share information with him. They were amicable, but they didn't have a bond and Sebastian hated that she did form one with Charles.

Mercedes dominated and won the first eight races, Max won Austria again and then, after a very tense first half of the year, it was Sebastian and Y/N's birthdays again. After that, came Silverstone, and the tension that had been building up for so long was finally ready to explode. The race was the last drop, the glass was full and Sebastian was ready to set the world on fire. Charles finished on the podium and Sebastian 16th, after being given a ten-seconds penalty for nosing Max's car with his Ferrari. He did the best he could to smile for the cameras but he wanted nothing more than to go back to the hotel and take the longest shower of his life. He watched Y/N kiss and hug Charles before he went to the podium and something inside him just snapped. He grabbed his sister and pulled her to the Ferrari garage as quietly as possible. They started arguing, because they were amazing at getting each other angry, and what started as a petty but harmless sibling fight, ended up with Y/N crying her eyes out and storming out of his driver's room. He went back to the hotel and took his so wanted shower, but when he got out, he didn't feel any better. As the time passed, he felt worse, and when he got an angry message from Eleanor, he knew that he had to fix what he had broken. He knew that she wasn't exactly helping to make things easier, but he was the big brother and if he really wanted the role, then he had to step up.

The trip to Eleanor's house wasn't long, and he noticed that he spent more time standing outside the door than he spent driving there. It was the first time he went there, the previous year they celebrated their birthdays in a restaurant and Y/N had refused to invite him to their home. He walked up to the door and after three failed tries, he finally rang the bell. He waited, the anxiety eating him alive, his heart beating faster as he heard footsteps getting closer to the door, what he didn't expect was Charles to be on the other side of it. He frowned, while the younger driver looked back at him, unamused. Charles actually looked like he was judging him and that angered the german, still, he did his best to contain himself and remembered, he was there to apologize. 

"She's not here". Charles said and Sebastian raised an eyebrow at him, Charles rolling his eyes and then explaining. "She went to buy some ice-cream with her mom".

"Can I come in and wait for them?". He saw Charles hesitate, but then move aside to let him in. They sat on the living room sofa, in complete silence. Sebastian took a moment to look around, a lot of pictures of his sister hanging on the walls. "Do they leave you alone here often?".

"Well, yeah". Sebastian was curious, how could Charles have all that privilege while he was constantly begging for his sister's attention.

"This is my first time here". He admitted, and Charles just nodded, shifting uncomfortably on his end of the couch.

"Uhm... I know". Sebastian just scoffed. 

"Of course you know. You know more about my sister and our relationship than me". Charles could hear the venom dripping from the words and tried to calm down.

"Don't say that. It's not like I know everything". The sour laugh Sebastian let out was pushing Charles closer to the edge.

"Well, you must be more than aware that she hates me". 

"She doesn't-". But the other cut him off.

"Don't lie to me, not about this". It was the hurt in Sebastian's voice that gave Charles the last push.

"Come with me". Charles got up and he followed, both of them walking up the stairs and stopping in front of a white door, Y/N name painted on it. "I promised her I wouldn't tell you, but I can't stand this anymore". The Monegasque opened the door and walked in, Sebastian right behind him. The sight inside left him speechless: His face was everywhere. There were posters, Red Bull merchandising, Ferrari flags, everything with the number 5, everything with his name. The posters were notoriously old, some were even roughed up by the years. "I know that you think she knew about you her whole life, but she didn't. She got a letter, for her twentieth birthday, from your father. Her mother had to tell her then, the truth about who her father was. But the craziest thing is, she was your biggest fan, even when she didn't know you were related. She saw you win your first championship when she was thirteen and begged her mother to buy her everything she could find about you. You were her hero. She worshiped you, Seb".

"I signed this". He said, his fingers faintly gazing at a Red Bull cap that was hanging from the headboard of the bed.

"She went to Silverstone 2012, Webber won, you were third. She was outside the paddock when you walked up to them as you were going in. Signed her cap and told her to follow her dreams. It meant the world to her. She used to race in karting". He couldn't stop the tears even if he wanted to, full on crying as he sat on the bed and hugged the cap close to his chest.

"But then why does she hate me so much?". How could this happen? She felt it, she felt the bond. Even when they didn't know, she did, deep down, she did. 

"Your father went back to your family, left her mom alone, then her mother wanted him out completely when she had the baby. She just grew up hating the man that used her mom as a night-stand and then ran back to Germany. When she learned that the same man she hated her whole life was also your dad... it was just too much". Charles walked up to the bed and sat down next to him, putting a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "She loves you, Seb. She loves you so much".

"What the fuck, Charles?!". They both looked up and found Y/N and Eleanor standing at the door, Y/N furious as she gripped a bowl of ice-cream. The Monegasque opened his mouth to explain, but she was quicker. "How could you do this to me?".

"Mon amour, I'm so-".

"Bullshit! You're not sorry, you're a fucking traitor". Her accent got a lot thicker the angrier she got. Sebastian, still crying, got up and stood in front of her.

"Don't, please, don't get mad at him". Sebastian begged. "I needed to know this, I needed to know that you actually like me. Y/N, please, I love you so much. I dreamed and begged for you my whole life, you have no idea how much happier I am knowing that you exist. I know that my father was a piece of shit to you both, I know that I can't fix that, but please, I'm begging you, give me a chance". He saw her doubt, he saw her hurt, but the moment she jumped on him and gripped him tightly he knew they were never letting go. "Thank you". He whispered on her hair and she just squeezed him on a deadly grip. They pulled apart and she looked at Charles, who was patiently waiting for her to forgive him, or kick him out. "You know, Charles is alright. I mean, 16 is not that bad of a number".

"I'd rather wear number 5, though". She said and Charles looked down. "But I don't want to be a shitty girlfriend, so I guess I can wear a cap with the number 16 along with my Vettel shirt". Charles looked up again and smiled wide at her. "Okay, listen, I swear to God, if you spill my secrets again, I'm dumping your ass".

"Won't happen again, Amour, I promise". He then looked at Sebastian. "So... I'm alright?".

"Don't push it, Leclerc". 

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

This story was based on a real case of two brothers separated when they were little, and the younger became a fan of his older brother's band without knowing they were related. It was really bittersweet when they discovered that they were brothers. I hope you liked this.

[bigmpregnm]

Enjoy the Ride - Part 2

[Story Collection] | [Part 1] [●] [Part 3🔴]

When we arrived at Mr. Griffin’s penthouse, I was speechless. His office was enormous, but his home made me feel like I had entered Narnia through those double doors. My 2-room-and-1-bathroom apartment was nothing compared to his living room. My whole place fit in a corner of his living room. I think the entire floor of the building I lived in fit in his living room. I felt poor while he showed me his place, but he treated me so nicely that I felt good at the same time.

“I’m surprised you’re willing to do this,” said Mr. Griffin as we walked up the stairs to the second floor of his penthouse. Call me ignorant, but I didn’t even know something like that was possible inside a building. “I guess I had the wrong first impression of you, young man. Maybe I should’ve treated you differently when I brought up this topic,” he added, wrapping his muscular arm around my shoulders.

“I-I just want to be sure that I can pay off my debt, Mr. Griffin,” I responded, surprised by how heavy his arm felt and enjoying the incredible scent of his perfume. I couldn’t help but feel confused because, even though he had tricked me into carrying his kids, I wasn’t scared or mad at him. He made me feel good; deep inside me, I was willing to be with him.

“I know. But this change of plans will make this process much more fun, and hopefully, you’ll enjoy this,” Mr. Griffin said, pulling me closer to his muscular torso, which made me gasp because of how firm it felt. “And, don’t worry, I’ll give you extra money for this,” he added as he opened a double door and allowed me into his enormous bedroom.

I was so impressed by the place that I couldn’t form coherent words for a few seconds. “Oh… I… no… You don’t have to, Mr. Griffin. I-I don’t want to feel like I’m a... you know,” I responded when I snapped out of my trance as he invited me to sit on his bed.

“I know, but I don’t mean it like that,” he said, removing his T-shirt and leaving me speechless again. “But I really want you to enjoy this in all possible ways.” He popped his pecs, and the thick slabs of meat bounced so hypnotically that I gasped in surprise.

I froze and marveled at his body for over a minute. Even though he was much older than me, his physique impressed me so much that I felt my dick stirring in my pants. I had never considered myself gay because the only relationships I had had so far were with women, but I had had some brief encounters with some men over the years, but none of them were as big or hot as Mr. Griffin.

He smiled at me and approached to help me remove my own t-shirt, revealing my well-developed torso. My muscles weren’t as big as his, but I went to the gym a few times a week, so I had nicely developed pecs and arms, broad shoulders, and well-defined abs. He chuckled in surprise, and I blushed.

He reached for my right pectoral and firmly squeezed it, winking at me. “You’re definitely perfect for this,” he said, massaging my pecs as his other hand unbuckled his belt. “Are you ready? Or would you prefer it if we go slower? I can give you all the time you need.”

“I’m fine. Let’s do this.” I shyly smiled and started taking my own pants off.

I had been very reluctant about the contract I signed and how Mr. Griffin used his money and power to turn me into his baby-making slave, but the more I stayed with him, the more I changed my mind about him. He wasn’t a bad man, and I wasn’t his slave; he treated me with respect while we were undressing and asked me several times if I was sure about what we were about to do.

Once I confirmed again that I was willing to carry his kids and do it the natural way, he removed the rest of his clothes, and my jaw dropped to the ground. His dick rose to its full size, and I estimated it was a foot long, if not longer. His balls reminded me of softballs, and his scrotum was so tight around them that they looked ready to burst. His legs looked powerful, his hips swayed beautifully, and when I saw his massive ass on full display, my dick got instantly hard. I had always been proud of my 8.5-inch-long dick, but Mr. Griffin’s was out of this world.

He got in bed and offered me his hand to help me get by his side. His bed was enormous, much bigger than a king-sized mattress. Everything about Mr. Griffin was big, and I really mean everything. I was somewhat scared about his huge dick, but as he started carefully caressing my body, I could only smile and feel great.

“Mr. Griffin, why are you treating me so well? You don’t have to. You know I’ll do this anyway,” I said, enjoying his careful touch.

“I really want you to feel comfortable while we make some babies,” he said, moving his hand down to my abs and slowly reaching for my dick to stroke it, sending shivers down my spine. “How do you want to do this?” He rubbed my balls and made me smile.

“I… think I feel comfortable with you on top,” I responded, lifting my legs for him to have access to my ass.

He smiled and immediately got on top of me, casting a shadow over me and accentuating our size difference. He smiled and leaned forward to kiss my neck, pressing his thick pecs against my torso while his dick poked between my legs. The head of his dick felt enormous against my ass, and I couldn’t help but gasp. I was nervous and still confused, but my body was aching for his dick.

He looked me in the eyes, and I felt his dick getting in position against my hole. I took a deep breath as his hips pushed forward, attempting to fit his huge dick into me. I wasn’t sure if it would fit because the few previous sex encounters I had had with other men were with dicks much smaller than Mr. Griffin’s. I focused on his smiley face and couldn’t help but smile back at him when he pushed harder.

When the head of his dick entered me, I groaned and moaned. I closed my eyes and panted because I felt like he was tearing me in half. I couldn’t think of anything apart from the huge dick entering me. Once the head was in, he slowly slid the rest of his dick inside me, making me gasp even more. I reached for his arms and buried my fingertips in his big biceps, dealing with intense pain but the most fantastic pleasure I had ever felt.

“Are you okay?” Mr. Griffin asked, and I only nodded as he got balls deep into me. I felt his dick throbbing inside me, and the sensation was incredible. “Take your time. I’m surprised you’re able to take my entire dick. You’re the first man who manages to do so.”

“I’m fine… I’m great, to be honest,” I said between moans, loving every single inch of dick buried inside me. “Keep going. I’m ready,” I added, smiling at him.

He grinned, pulling most of his dick out of me, only to ram it back into my hole with such force that the whole bed shook. I moaned loudly and gripped his biceps even harder, aware that I wouldn’t hurt him because his muscles felt like rocks. He repeated the strong thrust, and I saw stars. His hips bucked faster, and even though I didn’t want to let myself go into the intensity of the fucking, he was so strong and yet so sweet while fucking me that I couldn’t help but ask for more. I almost begged him to fuck me harder, and even though he was gentle, his pounding got stronger and faster, and even then, I wanted more.

While he fucked me, many thoughts crossed my mind. I remembered about the surrogacy contract and how I didn’t have a choice but to sign it. I thought about my small apartment and the money I would receive for my services. I was conflicted because a part of me felt bad because I was having sex for money, but the more Mr. Griffin thrust into me, the more I convinced myself that it was a win-win for me. I loved the fucking, and the money was good.

I felt Mr. Griffin’s balls hit my ass, and they felt huge. I knew it meant his balls were brewing a big load to fill me up, and even though I wasn’t that used to the feeling because I didn’t have much experience with other men, something deep inside me was longing for Mr. Griffin’s seed. I felt his pre-cum entering my hole, which was remarkable because I literally felt the flow entering me while he fucked me hard.

Mr. Griffin’s dick was so deep inside me, and it was so thick that it stimulated my prostate and turned me on like never before. My dick was leaking pre-cum while he fucked me, and after a few minutes, I couldn’t hold my load back anymore, shooting several thick shots of cum all over my own abdomen while others landed on Mr. Griffin’s pecs. He grinned when he noticed I was cumming, and with the most powerful thrust, he pushed his entire dick into me, immediately releasing a massive wave of cum deep into my guts.

I felt the massive shots filling my guts to the brim, and just as expected, I felt bloated by the time he stopped cumming. I had seen his big balls, and considering how much pre-cum he had leaked, I was expecting a massive load, and he didn’t disappoint me. I had fucked some men before, and some of those men had fucked me, but Mr. Griffin had fucked me unbelievably well.

I wasn’t sure if it was only due to the size of his dick or his passionate and careful fucking, but while we panted and his dick was still inside me, I couldn’t help but long for more. However, I didn’t want to look so desperate about it, so when he took his dick out of me, leaving me feeling empty, I only relaxed on his bed and rubbed my bloated midsection. I felt full with so much of his warm seed inside me, and I loved the sensation. I was confused because I never thought I would enjoy having sex with Mr. Griffin so much, but the more I thought about it, the more I convinced myself that signing the surrogacy contract had been a great idea.

We stayed in his bed for a while, catching our breaths, and he started telling me about the accommodations he would make for me. The contract already had some benefits for me, but Mr. Griffin had other ideas. He reached for my abdomen and started caressing it as he told me that I didn’t have to go to work while pregnant with his babies. Again, the plural scared me, but considering his huge load was bloating my lower abdomen, multiples were definitely a possibility.

He said my son and I could move in with him and use one of the spare rooms in the penthouse so I could be comfortable. He said I didn’t have to worry about food, clothes, or anything for me or Marco. He wanted me to feel safe and enjoy the pregnancy because that would help the babies develop better. I smiled, and even though it had all started pretty badly between us, Mr. Griffin’s new attitude made me feel great.

“Let’s wait to find out if you got me pregnant, Mr. Griffin,” I said, enjoying his touch on my abdomen. “I don’t want you to spend money on me or my son if I’m not doing my part of the deal.”

“I’ll respect that. We’ll wait.” Mr. Griffin smiled and nodded.

****

I continued my regular life for the next few weeks. I was getting somewhat anxious about the possibility of being pregnant because I knew my life would change a lot. My life was already changing because Mr. Griffin sent me money every other day to make sure I ate well. He insisted that I needed to eat a lot to give him strong and healthy babies. I didn’t complain about the extra money, but his attention only increased my anxiety. A part of me didn’t want to be pregnant, but another part of me knew I had to be pregnant for Mr. Griffin.

I caressed my abdomen every morning when I woke up. I thought about waking up with a huge round belly full of Mr. Griffin’s babies. I thought about raising those kids, even though the contract didn’t mention it. I thought about the changes my body would experience during pregnancy. I remembered how Mr. Griffin massaged my pecs while he talked about me being perfect to carry his kids, making me wonder if my pecs were able to produce milk.

So many thoughts crossed my mind during those weeks, and when I thought about my relationship with my son, my anxiety got even worse. Marco and I were really close because we only had each other. I would do anything to make him happy and give him a great life, even becoming a pregnant man. We shared a bed. I played with him every evening. We went to the park every other day. I took him to a nearby pool in our neighborhood once a week. We did everything together, and I wasn’t sure if I could keep doing all those activities if I was indeed pregnant with Mr. Griffin’s babies.

Even though I knew I had to wait a few weeks to confirm if I was pregnant, only a month after the natural ”insemination,” I noticed some slight changes on my body that made me think that the process had been successful. I gained 5 pounds in a month, which could also be attributed to my excessive eating, but I wasn’t getting fatter everywhere. I noticed my abdomen felt different and fuller, and my abs seemed to be fading. I didn’t know if those changes were too early, but I started sending some photos of my abdomen to Mr. Griffin every morning.

Mr. Griffin got excited with the photos and always responded with happy emojis. He sent me even more money for food, leading me to eat a lot more, and my belly started getting rounder. Since I had more than enough money, I started going out for dinner with Marco every other day, and I always went back home feeling ready to burst. My appetite was out of control, and I didn’t know if it was because I was pregnant or because I was getting fat.

I hadn’t seen Mr. Griffin since the day we had sex, but he texted me every day, several times a day, asking if I had any pregnancy symptoms. I told him that apart from the weight gain, everything else was normal. I knew he was expecting me to get morning sickness or something, but everything was fine until the first week of May, 8 weeks after Mr. Griffin fucked me. Many things happened that day.

When I woke up, I immediately looked down and saw a noticeable curve on my abdomen. It wasn’t huge, but it was definitely there. Marco was snuggling tightly against me like every morning, and his arm was over my small belly. I couldn’t help but smile as I thought about Marco as an older brother. He was such a good kid, and I knew he would make a wonderful older brother. Then, as he woke up, he looked me in the eyes, smiling. I kissed his forehead and hugged him tight, like every morning.

Marco rested his head on my pec and looked down at my abdomen, and after a few seconds of silence, he said, “Dad, you’re getting fat.” His words made me laugh out loud, but he made me realize that my belly was growing, and he noticed.

When I arrived at my job that same day, I couldn’t keep my hands off my abdomen. My mind drifted from one thought to the next, not letting me focus on anything but the possibility of being pregnant. I walked into my office and wasn’t paying attention to my steps. I didn’t care if the place was empty or not; I could only wonder if my belly was full of Mr. Griffin’s babies.

Then, as I approached my cubicle, sudden nausea washed over me. I had never experienced something so intense, and even though I tried to resist it, I had no other option but to try to get in the bathroom to throw up. However, before I could make it to the bathroom, I stumbled against a massive man who triggered a disgusting scene. I couldn’t resist the urge to throw up and ended up doing it all over his torso. I was so embarrassed, but when I looked up, I saw the shocked but empathic, handsome face of Greg, the janitor.

Greg was about 5 inches taller than me but much broader. His muscles were enormous, much bigger than Mr. Griffin’s, stretching his jumpsuit beyond the limits and not allowing him to close the buttons around his pecs. This meant that some of my vomit fell on his bare pecs. I expected him to get mad at me, but he only smiled kindly and offered me a napkin to clean my mouth. I had seen Greg several times before, but I had never interacted with him, and I was impressed by his kindness.

“You should be more careful,” he said, chuckling as he tried to find something to clean his vomit-covered pecs.

“I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. I-I… just…” I said, but another wave of nausea washed over me and made me run into the bathroom to throw up the rest of my breakfast.

I heard Greg entering the bathroom while I continued throwing up, and he sounded concerned about my sickness. He asked me if I was okay, but I couldn’t respond. Apart from my sickness, I was so ashamed that I hoped Greg would leave before I walked out of the bathroom stall, but he didn’t. He was genuinely concerned, and he waited for me to come out.

When I regained composure and walked out of the bathroom stall, I found him with his upper body fully exposed. His enormously bulging muscles looked wonderful, and even though I was still somewhat sick, I gasped and marveled at the magnificent sight of Greg’s body.

“I hope you’re feeling better,” he said, moving his right hand over his pecs to make sure they were clean.

“I am. Again, I’m really sorry,” I said, more ashamed than ever.

“No problem.” He approached, and I couldn’t believe how hot he was. “I’m Greg, by the way. I’ve seen you around but never got the chance to meet you,” he said, sounding sweet. He smiled at me. 

“I’m Adam. Nice to meet you,” I responded, and for a few seconds, I forgot about my sickness, the pregnancy, and the contract. Greg’s sweetness made me feel wonderful.

...

[brokenpieces-72]

What if, something happens on a mission and Spirit (Hybrid au), uses her body to protect one of the guys?

Something like this! (I have no idea why it’s blurry forgive me. Pic is from Superpower-Beyoncé)

Man y’all love angst. No judgement but dang. This one was a little tricky to come up with. Then I remembered Horangi.

Gamble

Missions go wrong, it’s not uncommon. It wasn’t even a mission though. You were in Korea for a time and you wanted to see what was in town. Horangi wasn’t fond of the idea, however with some pleading he gave in. Kyle and Johnny tagged along not wanting to leave you two alone for too long. It had been a good time for a while.

“So what is this?” You asked Horangi.

“Kimchi. It’s a little spicy.” He said simply. You tried it and it did have kick. You shook your head letting out an audible sound.

“Yep. Yep.” You said smiling.

“Too much?” He asked. You offered the rest to him and he didn’t mind finishing it off. You noticed he was keeping a mask on, and his tail was kept around his midsection under his jacket.

Kyle and Johnny took a moment to step away, Kyle trying to convince Johnny you could handle yourself, and Horangi would be there in case something went wrong. Something did go wrong.

As you walked along the busy streets you stuck close to Horangi or rather Horangi stuck close to you. You got an uneasy feeling, like he’s trying to hide behind you or something. You pulled off to the side and stop looking along the streets. Horangi was looking up and down the street like you’re being followed.

“What is it?” You asked. Horangi looked at you.

“Nothing.” He said trying to act casual.

“No it’s not.” You said. He tensed.

“You don’t need to know.” He snapped. When you flinched he softened. Fuck he knew coming out was a bad idea. You put an hand on his arm, looking up at him.

“I think I do.” You said.

Horangi looked up and then grabbed your arm.

“Run, don’t ask questions.” You ran following him through the streets, going up and down alleys, ducking around corners. You didn’t ask any questions until he took a moment to pull you closer to him against a wall. You pressed into him as much as you could, listening to his heavy breathing. You wrapped your arms around him, and squeezed gently.

“…we need to keep moving.” He said.

“You need to tell me what’s going o-“ a gun clicked behind you.

You were knocked out, and woke up in a dimly lit room. You were alone. Outside you heard shouting and someone being hit. You stayed quiet on the floor, not saying a word. When the door opened you shut your eyes pretending to be out still. You overheard them saying it would be better for you to be awake. That way your screaming could get the money they wanted. The door shut and you opened your eyes.

Horangi was on the ground, beaten and blood. You moved over to him putting your head to his chest to look for a heart beat. Still there. His breathing was ragged and they’d taken his hoodie.

“Horangi?” You asked. He looked up at you, exhausted.

“This is why… I didn’t want to come.” He said. You realized the situation easily enough and you hung your head.

“Gaz and Soap will find us.” You assured him. He chuckled, painfully.

“Your brother is gonna kill me.” He said.

“I’m sorry.” You said. You shouldv’e taken no for an answer. Left him alone.

“Hey… you didn’t know because I don’t talk about it. I kept to myself.” Horangi said. He explained that they were collecting debts he owed, and he’d given them everything he could but it wasn’t good enough. They were still after him for ranking up so much money, that he’d stayed away from his home town to keep his family safe. They thought you were his family.

“Where does it hurt?” You asked. Horangi tried sitting up, grunting. “Just tell me.”

“My ribs are broken, I think my shoulder is dislocated… black eye.” He said wincing.

“Okay that’s… we can still get out of this.”

“Kid, it’s not that simple, we could be anywhere, and your brother may be good with smells, but the odds of him finding us are slim.” Horangi said, starting to lose hope. Spirit was shaking, but didn’t show fear.

“We could still get out of here.” You said. You tried to sound hopeful.

“No-“ Horangi started, but then a shape of light shone on him, and you realized the door behind you had opened. Without hesitation your threw your arms around Horangi, covering his body with your own.

Hands grabbed at you trying to pry you off but you kept holding tight. Horangi begged them to leave you alone, trying to hold you just as tight. A swift kick to his already damaged ribs left him grunting and gritting his teeth.

“Leave him alone!” You growled at them. “Get the fuck away!”

“Come here you brat!” One of them yelled, grabbing your ears and yanking hard. you cried out. And Horangi held on tighter, yelling in Korean. They pulled harder and you tried tugging back, to no avail.

They tried then hitting Horangi and you clawed at their ankles, threatening them to back off. So they hit and attacked you instead. Despite Horangi’s pleas you endured it as much as you could, wincing. You swore they were going to break your limbs but you refused to let go of him. He was still your friend.

Then there’s a howl outside. The men stopped focusing on that, while you took the chance to see if Horangi was still awake. He was, and you gave him a pained smile.

“Guess I’m gonna die now.” He joked. You chuckled but winced from your bruised sides.

Johnny had brought not just Kyle but Price and König as well. The gangster had tried to hold you and Horangi hostage, but to no avail. They were wiped out easily. König helped you get Horangi to his feet, with you insisting on doing it yourself.

Johnny instead pulled you away from Horangi checking the damage.

“Johnny I’m fine.” You said, not wanting to be fussed over.

“You’re not, you need to get looked at.” He said.

“Is Horangi okay?” You asked. Johnny sighed. Why did you have to like Horangi, even after he’d gotten you in trouble and of course the rest of the team because they had to pull an impromptu rescue mission to save you both. It was silly, but if there’s one thing Johnny’s learned about you is that you can get attached easily.

“Horangi will be okay. He’s tough.” Johnny said, wanting to move on from the topic. You nodded and played with your hands.

When Horangi came out of the infirmary he found König waiting for him. Usually he was waiting on König. Horangi sighed, knowing how close you and König were, and likely how ticked he was that Horangi had put you in danger.

“How are you?” König asked. Just dandy, cause you know it wasn’t like he just got a young soldier in his gambling debt bullshit, and led to a bunch of collateral damage.

“Fine.” Horangi said.

“Spirit was worried about you.” König said. “I was too.”

That peaked Horangi’s interest. König looked a little red in the face at that.

“I’d heard rumours about your situation. Didn’t realize how bad it was. Horangi I may not be perfect, but I don’t keep that shit to myself.” König said. Horangi sighed, looking away.

“I should’ve told her.” Horangi admitted.

“She should have taken no for an answer.” König said. Horangi nodded. König stepped closer, looking unsure what else he should say.

“Just… Talk. Next time.” He said. Horangi gave him a half smile. With a pat on the giants shoulder, the two headed down the hall. “Spirit wants to see you.”

“I know she does.” Horangi said.

Taglist: @yourlovely-moon @kaoyamamegami @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @sans-chara @1mommyrose4ever29 @smitten-haematite-quartz @talia-the-gemini @yuki2129 @whitetiger846 @graystorm444 @chibiduck @reaperxxxxzz @danielle143 @sobbingnshtting @cringeycookies @cryingpages @dcnocap207 @reaper-chan666 @bestbookfriends

[deliciousangelfestival]

Tears In His Ferrari - 10

Character: Bucky Barnes x Farmer!Reader

Summary: Bucky Barnes, used to a life of luxury, takes on farm challenges in a bet with his father. Mud-stained Ferraris and a rustic farmhouse lead to unexpected personal growth, guided by the stern mentorship of Y/N, a farmer making his city-boy life difficult.

Theme: Fluff, Slice of Life, Heart-Warming.

Main Masterlist || If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee on: Ko-fi 🙏🏻

Thank you to anyone who gave a like, reblog, and left a comment. It motivated me to write more. 

Chapters: Chp 1, Chp 2,Chp 3 , Chp 4 , Chp 5 , Chp 6 , Chp 7 , Chp 8 , Chp 9 , Chp 10 , Chp 11 , Chp 12.

Bucky's heroic story of helping Toby's grandmother and bringing her to the hospital with his red Ferrari became the talk of the town.

The next day, he went to the fresh market with Y/N's parents to buy fruits and flowers.

He was planning to revisit Toby’s grandmother. He didn’t know why, but he felt a sense of melancholy toward elders, especially since his own grandparents had passed away before he was born.

As Bucky looked at the oranges, the locals greeted him warmly, especially the elders.

One grandfather said, “Thank you for helping Toby's grandma, young man. Here's some fresh corn and potatoes for you.”

Bucky smiled warmly and replied, “Oh, yes, we should help each other.”

Another grandmother approached him and said, “Are you the Barnes kid who helped my friend? Here's an orange for you.”

The kind old lady handed him baskets of oranges, her eyes twinkling with gratitude.

Then he felt someone tap his shoulder. He felt like a big shadow towering over him. It was Thor.

Thor exclaimed, "Buddy, you were a great help yesterday. Here, I'll give you my biggest catch today."

Bucky widened his eyes in surprise. "Oh no, it's alright. Urghh."

This was the first time in Bucky's life that he carried a heavy fish.

With each step he took, someone would greet him and give him something. He had never experienced this sense of community back in the city, and he appreciated how supportive the locals were of each other.

Samanta chuckled upon seeing Bucky looking clueless. “You've become the local celebrity.”

Bucky blinked in surprise. “Really?”

“Yup. Oh, my daughter just called. Some people are at your farm.”

“That's right. I have to go back.” Bucky clapped his hands excitedly. He suspected that what he requested from his dad had arrived.

He stepped on the gas and drove fast to his place. When he arrived, he saw a few teenagers and kids standing near his house.

Y/N was also there, looking a bit overwhelmed as she guarded the youngsters from entering the house.

The truck stopped, and Bucky got out of the car.

He greeted Y/N with a smile. "What's up?"

Y/N sighed in relief. "They want to see your car, but I thought they needed your permission first."

The group of youngsters looked at Bucky with puppy eyes. In a second, he remembered being a young kid, also interested in sports cars when his dad brought him to the F1 race car. The experience was amazing, and it made him fall in love with fast cars.

As a fellow car lover, Bucky welcomed them. "It's alright. Do you want to see what it looks like inside?"

"Yeah!!" The youngsters cheered in excitement.

Bucky showed them his Ferrari car and enthusiastically explained the engine and the machinery.

Y/N observed Bucky, who looked genuinely excited. She remarked, “You've become the celebrity.”

Bucky chuckled, unable to contain his enthusiasm. “I can't help it.”

“By the way,” Y/N continued, “your father sent a pick-up truck. I didn't know you needed another one.”

Bucky's eyes lit up. “It's here? Yes! And it's not for me.”

“Then for who?” Y/N inquired, curiosity piqued.

🏥

At the hospital, Toby was speechless when he saw the pick-up truck. It looked brand new and far superior to the old truck they had to sell to pay his father's debt.

He walked around the truck, inspecting it from front to back, then turned to Bucky and enveloped him in a grateful hug. “Thank you, bro,” he said earnestly.

Bucky returned the hug with a smile. “You're welcome, buddy.”

After Toby rushed back to the hospital to share the news with his grandfather, Y/N approached Bucky. “That was really nice of you,” she remarked.

Bucky nodded, a sense of fulfillment washing over him. “I realized how important a car is for Toby. He needs it to drive his grandma and carry boxes of honey.”

With the means to help, Bucky felt compelled to use it.

Y/N smiled warmly. Witnessing Bucky's generosity and compassion, she couldn't help but admire him even more.

Bucky's generous gift quickly spread throughout the town, making him the hottest topic of discussion. Suddenly, he found himself at the center of attention, not for his wealth or status, but for his kindness and willingness to help others.

The children in the town looked up to him as a cool role model, inspired by his actions to make a positive difference in the community.

With Toby's grandmother gradually improving, and Toby himself working diligently to sell honey at markets and to local households, the spirit of gratitude and determination seemed to infuse the air.

Despite initially finding farming challenging, Bucky began feeling accepted and belonging in his new life.

Though he still encountered difficulties, he realized that the rewards of helping others and being part of a close-knit community far outweighed any hardships he faced.

Bucky hadn't opened his social media for a while since he was already busy with farming.

******

His story has also spread widely on social media. However, it wasn't Bucky who initiated it.

But who did? Of course, it was Kate. She inserted herself into Bucky's story as if she were a part of the effort to help him.

During her live session, she recounted the events with a touch of theatricality, emphasizing her own role in the act of kindness.

"And that's when Bucky and I sprang into action," she exclaimed dramatically, her eyes sparkling with manufactured emotion. "Together, we rushed Toby's grandmother to the hospital, our hearts filled with determination to make a difference!"

Her viewers were quick to shower her with praise, captivated by her portrayal of a compassionate and selfless individual.

"You're such an inspiration, Kate!"

"Wow, I had no idea you were so involved in charity work. You're amazing!"

"Thank you for using your platform to spread awareness and help those in need. You're truly making a difference!"

With each compliment, Kate's smile widened, basking in her audience's admiration as she skillfully crafted her image as a philanthropic icon.

She kept smiling as she scrolled through the comments until she noticed someone mentioning "What about Y/N?"

Kate's smile faltered, and she let out a sigh.

"What's wrong?" inquired one of her viewers.

Kate sighed again. "Well, we only know what people choose to show us on the outside, not what's really going on behind the scenes."

The viewers were intrigued. "Is this about Y/N?"

Kate hesitated, then replied cryptically, "I don't want to name names, but let's just say there's someone who's been quite influential in Bucky's life, and it's had some unfortunate consequences for my brother."

"Your brother, the celebrity chef Paul?" another viewer asked.

"He can't cook anymore because of a car accident, right?"

The comments continued to pour in, each one adding to the speculation. It was precisely what Kate wanted. She leaned back in her chair, a satisfied smirk playing at the corners of her lips as she watched her fans dissect the situation for her.

Glancing down at her ruined shoes, a reminder of her unexpected encounter with the mud earlier, Kate clicked her tongue in annoyance. "Never underestimate me," she murmured to herself, a hint of determination in her voice.

🏎️

Bucky, who had been feeling clueless, had just finished cleaning up the sheep's stable. He made his way back to his house to freshen up.

Archie, the puppy, had eagerly awaited his return, wagging his tail excitedly. "Woof."

"Hey, buddy, I missed you too," Bucky greeted, bending down to pet the eager pup.

Once inside, Bucky headed straight to the sink to wash his hands, feeling the grime of farm work clinging to his skin. As he scrubbed, he couldn't help but notice his phone incessantly buzzing with notifications.

"What's going on?" Bucky wondered aloud, setting down the soap to check his phone. He was met with a flood of messages and tags from various people. Among them was a tag that caught his attention: #Y/N and Paul.

Curious, he clicked on it, and his screen filled with photos of Y/N dressed in a chef's outfit, standing beside none other than Paul, the celebrity chef who also happened to be Kate's brother.

Bucky's heart sank as he read the accompanying captions and watched a reel detailing Paul's accident, along with rumors suggesting that it wasn't him driving the sports car, but rather a woman whose name was still unknown.

His thoughts racing, Bucky was startled when he heard a familiar voice behind him. "Here's the dinner."

He nearly jumped out of his skin, turning to find Y/N standing there, a concerned expression on her face as she looked at him. "What's wrong?" she asked, noticing his troubled demeanor.

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[simmerandwrite]

Sink Into Me - 07 - mob!Steve Rogers x plus size!reader

Pairing: mob boss! Steve Rogers x plus size! reader

Summary: You were simply doing a good deed, pulling the handsome stranger out of the way when a car jumped the curb. Little did you know that the life you saved belonged to Steve Rogers, the Army veteran turned art dealer with connections to the Brooklyn crime syndicate.

Steve Rogers, who won’t stop calling you his guardian angel.

Steve Rogers, whose new goal in life just might be repaying his debt to you.

Steve Rogers, who isn’t shy until it comes to his feelings and will stop at nothing to keep you safe.

Chapters: 01 02 03 04 05 06  07 08 09

Wordcount: 7.9k

Warnings: some violence in this one, vague references to drugging at a club (not to reader), feelings

Notes: thank you for your patience, beautiful people!! let's goooo.

---

If Steve looked inward for more than a spare second, he could unpack the heavy feelings that sat on his chest. But, he wouldn’t allow himself even that miniscule moment in time to think. Instead, it suddenly made way more sense to throw himself into work - from selling buildings to working on art curation to all the dirty things he did behind the scenes. If he wasn’t working, he was sleeping or working out or drinking at Shield. 

On this particular day, he was taking care of new business.

“What did we fucking say about selling this shit in Brooklyn?”

Steve almost felt bad for the guy he was slamming his fist into. Steve had absolutely broken his nose, maybe cracked his jaw. 

But, Steve had the upper hand here. The shithead was tied up to a metal chair, in the basement of one of Steve’s oldest properties. 

Thor had picked the guy up selling products near Brighton Beach. It was the third idiot working for Rumlow that had been caught crossing boundaries and pushing their new formula. It was one thing to not converse with Steve and confirm his cut. It was another to prey on high school kids. 

Steve reached for the guy's collar. “Do you need a reminder?”

He growled under Steve’s fist. “Your precious kingdom is going to crumble.” The man sucked in a breath and leaned forward, spitting a mournful of blood at Steve. 

Although electricity was climbing through every inch of Steve’s body, he remained stoic. Slowly, he wiped off the remnants of blood from his neck and shirt. Then Steve took in a sharp breath and delivered a kick to the man’s chest, sending the chair stumbling backward to the ground. With a clap of his hands, he turned around and pointed at Thor and Bucky. Both men were watching from the doorway of the dingy basement. 

“Call your brother and tell him to peel this man apart for information about Rumlow’s operation.” Steve planted a hand on Thor’s shoulder. 

“I’m on it, boss. But Loki will want cash and—”

“Pay him whatever he needs.” Steve finished off, confirming with a nod before leaving with Bucky. “Make sure he gets rid of the body afterwards.”

Bucky remained silent as he followed Steve up the stairs, matching his pace as they headed towards an awaiting car outside. It wasn’t until they were well on their way back to the club, in the thick of traffic that Bucky spoke up. 

“You good?”

Steve, who had been staring out the window, turned his head back to his friend. “I’m fine.”

“Because usually you let the boys get dirty.” Bucky pointed out the remaining marks of blood that littered Steve’s chest. “And calling in Laufeyson..”

“I want to clean up this fucking mess that’s found it’s way into our streets, Bucky. Don’t you think I know what I’m doing?”

“Of course I do, you idiot. Don’t fucking yell at me, too. Christ. You’re wound up because you made a mistake. Don’t take it out on us.”

Steve didn’t even bother replying. Because Bucky was right. 

Steve was angry. At himself. 

--

God, you were grateful for your friends. If you didn’t have them in your corner, you knew that everything with Steve might have sunk you down way further than you wanted. In fact, you knew damn well that if you let yourself slow down and think for a few minutes, the pain you had been so easy to dismiss might come roaring back to life.

But, there wasn't time to slow down. Not when your evenings became a delicate balance of work, walking Hercules then meeting up for some sort of exciting activity in the city. 

Pietro certainly had a penchant for finding fun things to do. Somehow he had a better pulse of the city than you and your friends who actually lived there. Your group chat was constantly buzzing with suggestions about markets to check out or special nights at certain bars or clubs or after party events with Pietro’s coworkers. 

It was a welcome distraction most days. But other days, all you wanted to do was have a pity party on your own. Even though you knew you deserved better than the way Steve had called things off, part of you kept wondering about how it all played out. One night after a night out with your friends and one too many glasses of white wine, you had gone into a deep, dark Instagram spiral.

Steve himself didn’t have any kind of personal social media presence. But someone managed one for his gallery and another one for Shield too. You scrolled through every post for a glimpse of him and every time some version of him showed up in a photo, your heart got a little more cracked open. 

Once you made it through the entire main feed of images, you dug deeper. The tagged photos for Shield had plenty of activity, including a recent slew of images from a weekend event at the club. One photo had Steve in it - you were sure, though he wasn’t facing the camera. It was in the background of some beautiful brunette’s photo and you knew it was upstairs in one of the VIP areas of Shield.

You were going crazy over it. Why did he have to end it the way he did? How come you didn’t get any other conversation or closure over the whole thing?

After a long day at work and an extra long walk home with Hercules, you had decided it was time for a night in. Thankfully you hadn’t heard any activity in the group chat all day, so you were very much looking forward to some time on the couch with your favourite bowl of pasta. 

Just as you got home, a crack of thunder sounded out and you knew a summer storm was imminent. You wouldn’t consider yourself someone who romanticized the rain - in fact, you hated thunderstorms. Since childhood you had connected storms to danger and darkness, and although now you were at home safe in your own apartment, you had never felt more alone and unsettled.

You remedied the uncomfortable feelings as best as you could - quickly calling your mother to talk while you made dinner. And when you had finally plated your food, you dropped onto the couch with Hercules and sent out an SOS to the group chat.

Claire was at work. Maria was at home uptown in Manhattan, waiting out the storm. And Wanda revealed she was out on a date with Vision, hiding out from the rain at some lavish restaurant uptown.

You groaned. Your lights flickered.

In an attempt to calm down, you tried to lose yourself in some reruns of your favourite show. It wasn’t working very well - especially with an anxious Hercules at your side who was not enjoying the storm outside, either.

Looks like you had to be the strong one, for the sake of your son.

“We’re gonna be okay, buddy,” you cooed as you cuddled in close to Hercules. “This storm shall pass or whatever.”

Your moment of wisdom was cut off when your phone started to buzz on the coffee table. You picked it up to see Pietro’s face on the screen.

“Hello?” You answered.

“Hey!” He called out on the other end of the phone. You could hear the rain. “I’m a block away. Please tell me you have dry towels?” 

You stood up and shook your head, confused. Had you made plans that you forgot about? Most weeknights Pietro was at the restaurant until close and–

“Wanda said you hate storms and we lost power at the restaurant. So I’m coming over to hang! I have desserts.”

He didn’t even let you argue, doubling down on the rain and how he wanted to hang out. It was strange though - of course you considered Pietro your friend, you just had never hung out one on one before. You hadn’t really assumed you were friends like that - moreso that you were friends with Wanda and he came along with that transaction. But you really enjoyed being around him. Pietro’s extraversion benefited you regularly and well, you definitely did not want to be alone in the storm anyway.

You greeted Pietro at the door with a dry towel, although his was in good spirits despite his damp clothing. 

“You didn’t have to come over,” you told him as you unpacked the paperbag he had brought from the restaurant. “I’m surviving.”

“Sure. But who else can I talk to about this boring philosophical PhD my sister is dating again?” Pietro flashed you his signature charming smile, peeling off his wet sweater and following your arms to toss it in your dryer. “What kind of name is Vision anyway?”

“I only met him once or twice,” you replied with a small smirk. “They really hit it off - though she never said why they had ruptured in the first place.”

“Well, as her older brother, I’m cautious. I deserve to know about the guy, it’s giving me even more grey hair to think about her dealing with some dumb man.”

You laughed. “Aren’t you like - 10 minutes older?”

“Twelve, actually.” He turned and headed back towards the counter. “This is for you by the way - packaged up by M’Baku himself.”

Glancing down at the to-go box, containing a particularly delectable slice of cheesecake, you couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow. “What?”

On more than one occasion you, Wanda and occasionally Maria or Claire had headed to the restaurant past closing to hang out while Pietro and his coworkers finished up for the evening. Mostly you sat at the bar and sipped on a cocktail while the kitchen crew finished up. A few nights ago, you had done exactly that and after the restaurant was closed, instead of heading out like you had planned, you all stayed and played cards and shared a few of the leftover dishes. Somehow, one of the kitchen staff had sat with you - the prep cook, M’Baku - and if you had been in a clear state of mind and heart, you might have thought you and him had hit it off.

M’Baku had probably even been flirting with you. But since Steve had crushed your confidence, you had a hard time believing that was possible. 

“He also asked me for your number,” Pietro added in, breaking you from your thoughts as you both sat back on the couch again. “If you want, I can text him right now and..”

You sighed. “I don’t know if I want to… do that. Date or.. Even think about dating. This is really nice of him, though.” With a glide of your fork, you grabbed a corner of the cake and smiled. “Reallllly nice.”

“You don’t have to date the guy,” Pietro countered, tipping his head to the side to meet your gaze. “Nothing wrong with having a little harmless fun.”

“Yeah, I don’t think so. Unfortunately, I was not blessed with a harmless fun gene, unlike you and Wanda.” You nudged him with your elbow. “The cheesecake is great though. Tell him thanks!”

---

“Are you sure this outfit is restaurant soft open slash after party appropriate?” 

Wanda rolled her eyes at you in the mirror, shooting you a smile. “Piet said it was casual. Don’t overthink it.” She finished off fixing her lipstick and turned. “You look great.”

Now you were rolling your eyes. You had picked out a casual summer dress to combat the heat, but you still weren’t sure. You wouldn’t admit it out loud, but after everything with Steve, all your confidence and self esteem hadn't really recovered. The way he had talked to you with such promise and excitement about your body, only to… 

No, no. It wasn’t fair to do that to yourself. You had to try and let it go. You had a fun night ahead.

Although your exciting social lives had slowed down a bit, Pietro still managed to talk you into some after work activities. On this particular Friday, you and Wanda were meeting up with him to visit some new restaurant that had recently opened. Surprising to no one, Pietro had befriended the guy who supplied their restaurant all their alcohol and the guy had gotten Pietro an invite to some soft opening event. Pietro and a few plus ones, even.

You slipped into your shoes and watched as Wanda finished pacing around her apartment gathering her things. “Where are we going anyway?” 

Wanda glanced down at her phone. “He just sent me the location - somewhere in Bedstuy I guess. C’mon, we can get the next train.”

When you got off the subway and started towards whatever address Wanda was following in her phone, a weird little twist of discomfort swirled in the pit of your stomach. No, it couldn’t be possible. Sure, you were in your old neighbourhood. And yes, if you turned down the next street on the right you’d –

“It’s down here,” Wanda tipped her head down that next street on the right.

Wilson’s Kitchen.

You slowed your feet down nearly and finally came to a complete stop before you approached the restaurant. Noooo. No. The last time you had been down this street, outside of this exact building - a car had come barreling off the sidewalk and changed your life.

You let out a silent groan, shaking your head as you saw Pietro and some people from his restaurant wave to you from outside the place.

Wanda glanced over her shoulder, reaching for your hand. “Come on.” She didn’t know all the details and you didn’t have the time or ability to explain it all now. Of course it had to be this restaurant - that Steve owned. Wilson’s… you recognized that as Sam’s last name, but wondered what the connection was?

You wanted to throw up. What if Steve was inside?

“You alright?” It was Pietro who paused as everyone else headed in before you two.

“Yeah..” You took a deep breath. “It’s a long story. Just might need some emotional support here tonight.”

He raised a curious eyebrow but gave you a pointed nod. “Okay, got it. Keep your secrets but did I mention it’s an open bar at least?”

You took a deep breath and decided that you could do hard things, you could do uncomfortable things. Steve didn’t matter! You deserved to live your own best life. You took Pietro’s awaiting hand. “Oh, lead the way then.”

-

As soon as you got inside, you were somehow taken from Brooklyn into a cool bistro from the French Quarter. Pietro gave you a quick low down on the place - a New Orleans fusion menu inspired by the chef’s upbringing in Delacroix. There was trendy exposed brick paired with iron accents and even supplemented by a generous jazzy ambiance floating through the air.

You met up with Wanda who had found a seat at the bar. The rest of the place was quite packed. Servers zipped around the room with trays of food, stopping by the bustling tables and delivering drinks to guests. There wasn’t a set menu or agenda for the evening, but you had to be honest with your friends before things got out of hand.

“Okay, Wan.” You grabbed her hand, sparing a quick glance around the room. “Steve owns this place. If you see him, please give me fair warning.”

“Wait. Who is Steve?” Pietro had planted himself behind you both, waving a hand to the bartender for a few cocktails.

“A dumb man!” Wanda summarized quickly, turning directly in her seat to scan the crowds too. 

“A dumb man I dated a while back..” You squished your face, then tried to shake away all your thoughts. “He was a jerk at the end.”

“Boooo..” Pietro threw his arm around you and squeezed. “There is still time for me to give your number to–”

“No, no.” You grabbed his hand where it sat on your shoulder. “Let’s just have fun, okay? No more thoughts about Steve.”

You had a perfectly lovely night. The food you sampled was incredible and the drinks were damn delicious. You even had the opportunity to meet Sarah, the head chef - who gushed about the evolving menu and how excited she was to have community kitchen days on the weekend to feed the neighborhood. 

“It is a great location,” you replied, pivoting slightly in your stool to speak with her. Wanda and Pietro had ducked outside for some air.  “I used to live a few blocks from here.”

Before you got any further, someone was saddling up beside her, dropping a hand over her shoulder. “Great turnout, sis.”

You offered Sam an awkward smile as he realized you two had been talking. He faltered for a second, glancing over his shoulder before finally giving you a greeting. “Oh, hey. It’s.. good to see you.” Sarah seemed to take this as an opportunity to excuse herself back to the kitchen, so you had to continue with Sam on your own.

“A friend of mine had an invite.” For some reason you felt you had to immediately defend yourself, even though he didn’t ask why you were there.

Sam let out a long breath and lifted a shoulder to shrug. “Listen, I don’t need to repeat the speech about how much of a fucking idiot Steve is.” He sighed then leaned back to the end of the restaurant. “He is here though, with a group in the back dining room.”

You tried not to give yourself away with your body language, but suddenly you felt even more on edge than you had before. You hadn’t seen Steve yet and it didn’t mean you were going to see him now. But knowing he was only a few walls away from you.. Well, it both worried you and also it seemed to stoke that weird feeling in your stomach into fiery anger.

“Thanks for the heads up, Sam.” 

“Sam! What’s the hold up? Did you get a hold of Sean?”

Then, like some stick twist of fate, a quiet commotion started out of the back room. You couldn’t help but turn on your stool again and look in that direction along with Sam.

And there, sticking his head out the door with a big grin on his face, as waves of laughter and clinking glasses sounded out behind him, was Steve. Even though you could only see part of his torso, you knew he was probably donning some sharp suit jacket and you wanted to scream.

It felt like time slowed down as you met Steve’s eyes - though he was far away, it felt like he was looking right into your soul. His jaw stilled, then snapped shut and before either of you really had a moment to process what was happening, you looked away and rushed to your feet. 

You mumbled out some rushed goodbye to Sam then immediately headed outside to find Wanda and Pietro.

They were standing near the front window - Wanda with a cigarette in one hand and her phone in the other. Pietro glanced up from his own phone when you shuffled up beside them. He raised an eyebrow at your distressed face.

You took a deep breath. “I saw Steve.”

Wanda turned and dropped her cigarette, stomping it out and reaching for your hand. “Auuugh. But you survived, babe. Shit. Are you okay? Does he look terrible?”

You just shrugged. “No, he looked great. Even from afar.” A dramatic groan left the pit of your stomach. “God, he’s the worst.”

Wanda’s phone started to buzz and she glanced from it to the street. “Ah, Vis is here. We were gonna go to.. Let me just send him off.”

“No, no.” You squeezed her hand. “Just go. I’ll call an Uber.”

“I’ll make sure she gets home,” Pietro jumped in, giving Wanda a quick side hug. “Have fun! Be safe!”

Wanda pretended to falter for a second, then threw her arms around you before darting off to the awaiting car. 

You let out another long sigh and leaned against the nearest wall, shaking your head as Pietro stepped in front of you. “I think I need to head home - but you can stay, I’ll be fine.”

He watched you closely. “I’m sorry. For whatever that asshole said to you - for you to feel this way now. You’re a catch.”

You couldn’t stop the laugh that escaped you. “I don’t think I am, but I appreciate your kindness, Piet.” Behind you both, a pair of black SUVs pulled up. They were definitely Steve’s. “Augh, I need to get out of here.”

Pietro looked over his shoulder at the vehicles, then back into the restaurant through the window. “Or.. wait. Is that his ride? He has to come out this way?” 

You could see some sort of plan was forming in his head. “What are you scheming about now?”

Pietro grinned, taking a step closer to you. “Harmless fun, my friend. Flirt with me?”

“What?” Your eyes grew wide. “We can’t. You don’t actually want to..”

“Miláčik, please. If that dumb idiot man is going to walk out here, let him see you perfectly distracted by someone else without a care in the world.”

“Piet, there are so many other girls I’m sure you’d rather flirt with.”

“No, actually. I would love to flirt with you. But my sister said I cannot date her friends and I’m going back to Sokovia in a month or so..” He took in a deep breath and stepped forward, tentatively reaching a hand out to rest on your waist. “If neither of us want to date, at least let’s..”

The door opened and suddenly, you didn’t have time to even process Pietro’s words. Instead, you wrapped your hands around his neck and pulled him as close to you as possible. And, well, he wasted no time trailing his lips against your neck as one hand wrapped around your waist. The other he used to cradle against your jaw.

“Can you see him?” Pietro whispered against your neck, his breath hot against the shell of your ear. “I don’t really care about that man but if this helps you..”

You tried not to make your shifting eyes very obvious but yes, in the large group of people walking out of Wilson’s Kitchen, just ten feet away from you - there was Steve. 

He met your eyes again, extending his arm for someone else to get into the car before him. But this time, you didn’t look away. Instead, you scratched your hand against Pietro’s neck and laughed.

Time slowed down again as Steve eventually tore his eyes from yours, ducking his head to get into the back of the vehicle.

You squeezed your eyes shut as the cars finally pulled away. 

With a firm pat, you tried to bring Pietro back to earth. He lingered close enough to you that your lips were nearly touching. He grinned. “Sorry if that was too much.”

“It was..” You relaxed your shoulders and leaned back again, resting your forehead against Pietro’s. “..exactly what I needed.” A silly shield, a defensive mechanism against Steve.

He laughed, quiet. “Good. I’m glad. And is there anything else you might need tonight?”

“Just someone to get me home safely. And maybe..” Leap of faith, leap of faith. “We flirt some more. At home. On my couch.”

-

You knew you were making a choice. God, when was the last time you had been the one to suggest going to a club on a Saturday night? You could practically hear Maria rolling her eyes on the other side of the phone, but you knew she’d be on board. Claire was immediately into the plan too, and it only took a few more minutes to get Wanda and Pietro in on the event.

And the fact that you suggested Shield, of all places, as your location of choice. Well, that was just a coincidence. If Steve happened to be there, then so be it. It had been months now since you’d broken up and a few weeks since the night at the restaurant, and you knew it was time to move the fuck on. You could go places that Steve might be at. You’d be fine.

It didn’t make you any less nervous, though. The idea of running into him wasn’t exactly something that thrilled you. What if you saw him with another girl? That would hurt. Or worse, what if he just… 

No, no. This wasn’t about Steve. This was about taking yourself back and leaving him behind. 

“Okay, the Uber will be here in four minutes!” Pietro loved being the motivator and sometimes it meant very bad decisions. In this particular instance, it meant one last shot of sour raspberry liqueur before you got to the club. 

You cheers’d your friends, taking one last glance in the mirror by your door and calling out your goodbye to Hercules as you all clambered to the front lobby. 

“You look amazing, did I tell you that?” Claire nudged you with her arm as you lingered outside. “You’ll drive him crazy.” You just laughed, letting the buzz of the alcohol overtake you like a warm blanket. She was right - you did look good. The dress you picked was definitely in your comfort zone but it showed off everything you wanted on display. And your hair had fallen exactly where you wanted it to.

You looked hot. 

Steve Rogers, eat your heart out.

When you got to the front of the line at the club, you immediately regretted the entire plan. And when you met the eyes of the bouncer at the door, Luke, who greeted you with a big smile, you wanted to run in the opposite direction.

“Nice to see you, sunshine,” Luke greeted as he handed you back your ID. “Have a fun night. Don’t get into trouble, alright?”

“That man is a brick house,” Claire laughed, looking over her shoulder back at him when you got inside. “I’d like to know everything about him.”

“Stop that,” you laughed as you looped your arm with hers, following behind Wanda, Pietro and Maria who were heading towards the bar. “He works for Steve.”

“Of course,” Claire nodded, as her grin grew even louder. “You’ve gotta get me in touch with that man later, please.”

“What about Matt?” You couldn’t stop yourself from laughing too as you pushed your way closer to your friends as they got to the bar.

“Off again, currently.” Claire sidled up beside Pietro and waved towards the nearest bartender. 

Luckily, you didn’t see Kate or Yelena behind the bar, so you’d be saved from those interactions. Instead, the bartender was someone you didn’t recognize and thankfully they didn’t even look twice at you as Pietro passed out the newly poured drinks. Once you were all sufficiently back into the tipsy but edging on drunk mood, the dance floor was your destination.

God, Pietro was fun. You didn’t have any regrets about how things had gone this summer, that almost whatever that didn’t happen after the restaurant quietly dissipated. Okay, you did make out hard that night - but then you pulled back and sent him on his way home. And the best part, it hadn’t been weird afterwards. You went back to normal, as friends, and you couldn’t have been more grateful for his distraction. Maybe in another life where he actually lived on the same continent as you - things could have been different. But if you thought too hard about it, you also knew you had just been using him to not think about Steve. And that wasn’t fair either. So instead, you decided that having platonic male friends was okay. And if Pietro wanted to dance with you, that’s all it had to mean. 

And Pietro loved to dance.

It wasn’t hard to lose track of time on the dance floor - occasionally a pair would head back to the bar and deliver shots or drinks, but you all mostly sang loud and danced hard. God, your friends were fun - it was mostly a comfortable environment in your own little bubble and the only hands that landed on you were usually from Claire or Pietro. 

You did check in with the real world - glancing around the room to be aware of your surroundings and on more than one occasion you glanced up towards the VIP areas upstairs. 

And although you were trying not to give a fuck about Steve, when you saw him up there standing near the railing, your heart jolted. The view was brief as he stepped away, probably heading to the upstairs bar. 

“Fuck that guy!” Pietro yelled out, pulling your attention back down. 

“She already did,” Claire announced with a big laugh, planting a kiss on your cheek. “You know the only good way to get over him is to get under someone else.”

You laughed along and threw your arms over your friends. Maybe that was true but finding someone to date seemed absolutely awful. Dancing was easier, you didn’t want to think about Steve or dating or anything. 

Suddenly, the back and forth about getting over Steve disappeared. Just a few feet from where you all were dancing, you had a feeling something bad was happening. Your mind was racing as you watched some brute of a man holding up a young girl, helping her walk out of the busy crowd. But it didn’t feel right - the way she tried pushing away from his chest, head lolling to the side. 

“Hey!” Reaching for Claire’s hand, you searched the nearby area to see if anyone else could see what was happening. 

Claire followed your eyes and frowned. “Shit.” She pulled ahead from you and sprung into action. 

“Pietro!” You turned your head and grabbed his shoulder. “Go find a bouncer, fast!” Though you could see he was confused, he nodded and rushed away. 

You caught up with Claire, who was trying to gently get the girl away from the larger man. “Hey, honey. Hi. Do you know this guy?” 

“We’re good here, leave us alone!” The man barked at Claire. “She’s fine. We’re heading out.”

You shuffled over, trying to put yourself between them as Claire tugged the girl away. You reached your hand out to stop the guy from coming closer again. “Leave her alone!”

“Where am I..” The girl mumbled as Claire helped her to stand, moving her hand up to try and steady the girl as Claire looked in her eye. 

“It’s okay, you’re okay. Do you know that guy?” Claire asked. The girl shook her head. 

A loud snort came from the man. “Jesus Christ, she just agreed to come home with me.”

As he tried to move towards her again, you pressed a hand against his chest to stop him. “Get away from her.”

“Stay out of it, you fat bitch!” He pushed you away, backwards into the crowd as he rushed towards Claire and the girl instead. 

Maybe it was the alcohol surging through your or just your general rage at the male population, but as you found your footing once more, you just went for it. Although the entire scene was turning into a spectacle, you hurried forward and yanked on the guy's shoulder to stop him. 

With a snap of his neck, he turned towards you and growled. “Jesus Christ, don’t you know when to quit?” He grabbed your shoulder then stomped down, smashing his boot onto your foot. “Dumb fucking bit—”

This time when he pushed you back, you landed against someone’s chest. No, someone was pulling you away. 

“Hey, hey - take it easy!” 

Steve. 

Ahead of you, more chaos was unfolding. Sam and Bucky were suddenly fighting the man through the crowd, fists flying as they shouted. Pietro had reappeared with Luke, immediately rushing both Claire and the girl through the bar to some back room. 

“Are you okay?” Steve’s voice came from behind you. His arm was wrapped around your shoulders and shit, were you shaking?

“Hands off,” you finally replied, pulling away from him. He immediately dropped his arms, holding his hands up in defense. You took a step forward then hissed in pain

“Fuck.” You glanced down at your foot, though you could barely see it in the dark lights of the club. It fucking hurt though. 

“Let me help you,” Steve shifted and offered a hand to you. “Please.”

You strained your neck to try and find Pietro or Maria or Wanda, but they seemed to have disappeared too. Begrudgingly, you accepted Steve’s arm under yours as you limped away from the dance floor. 

-

Even if Luke hadn’t messaged Steve to report that you were waiting in line outside, Steve would have spotted you in the crowd. 

Because it was you. 

Your entire being had left an imprint on him and he couldn’t stop himself from searching any crowded room for you, still. Months had gone by since he had hit self destruct but he couldn’t get you off his mind. 

Even though Meredith Russo had been hanging off him throughout the night, Steve’s radar remained on you. Especially whenever anyone got close to you, including that silver haired dude. The way he danced against you, how he made you laugh and blush - it drove Steve mad. He was certain it was the same guy who had his hands all over you outside the restaurant too. Fuck, he hadn’t like that that either.

He considered, briefly, just leaving the club and heading home for the rest of the night. But the moment he saw you, something told him to stay. He did, however, try not to spend his entire night watching you from afar. Especially when he noticed one of your friends looking up towards his section. 

Instead, he focused on only watching from the balcony every now and then. Everytime he refreshed his drink, or got up to greet a guest, he would throw a subtle look downwards to the dance floor. 

Yep, there you were. Still dancing, smiling, not a care in the world. 

Fuck. 

This was what he wanted. To let you go, to save you from his world. But god fucking damnit, the pain in his chest hadn’t subsided at all. 

“Steeeeeve. Wanna dance?” 

Meredith Russo was attractive - Steve wasn’t blind. That didn’t mean he cared even a fraction about her. Yet somehow, every single time he had been out lately - with or without Billy Russo - Meredith seemed to appear too. 

“No.” He clipped his words and turned away from her at the upstairs bar. 

“Okay, how about we just cut to the chase and you take me home then? I’m tired of this game,” Meredith returned to him, planting her feet and staring him down. “You can do whatever you want to me.”

“I don’t want to do anything to you, Meredith. Excuse me.” 

He could hear her starting to respond, though he escaped her soon enough. And then, Sam was calling for his attention from near the staircase. “Steve, come here!”

Steve followed Sam’s pointed hand and realized something was unfolding downstairs on the dance floor. He could see anger building in some oversized man and then there you were, in the middle of it. 

“Shit,” Steve hissed out, calling for Sam and Bucky to follow him as he rushed downstairs. Where the fuck were his security guards? Who was he paying to maintain the safety standards in his establishment if this was occurring in the middle of the room?

“Stay out of it, you fat bitch!”

Steve couldn't move fast enough. 

As they swam through the large groups of people, shouting for some sort of clearance, Steve was just praying that you’d be unscathed. 

 “Jesus Christ, don’t you know when to quit? Dumb fucking bit—” 

All Steve could see was red. The man grabbed you, pushed you, and then you were collapsing backward. 

Steve caught you just in time, gently wrapping his arm around your shoulder to pull you further away while Sam and Bucky moved ahead to deal with the brute. 

“Hey, hey - take it easy!”

You were shaking in his arms, high on adrenaline and liquor as the scene calmed down. 

“Are you okay?”

You stilled immediately, pulling away from him. “Hands off!”

Steve relented without hesitation, letting you go and watching as you stumbled forward. You winced in pain as you stepped down on your right foot. 

“Fuck.”

Steve sighed and offered his hand to you. “Let me help you. Please.” He worried you were about to fight him too but thankfully you accepted his arm around your shoulder as you hobbled off the dance floor. 

-

Steve didn’t think he’d ever be in this position again - driving you home after a night out. But circumstances were different and following everything that happened at the club, he had insisted. Though it was clear you had your guard way up. 

After dropping off Pietro, Wanda and Maria - Claire had gone to the hospital with the young girl, accompanied by Luke - the quiet hung between you and Steve in his car. 

He hadn’t experienced silence that heavy and loud before. 

You squeaked out a quiet ‘thanks’ as your building approached, but Steve doubled down. 

“Let me help you to your door, at least. You’re limping.”

Truthfully, Steve thought maybe you should go to the ER too. That asshole had really smashed into your foot and an x-ray would probably find a fracture. Christ, he was still fuming over that entire interaction - the image of that man pushing you, yelling in your face, grabbing you.. 

How come Steve hadn’t been able to protect you? How could he let you get hurt like that?

Right. Because it wasn’t his responsibility. 

Fuck. 

“Fine,” you begrudgingly agreed to his suggestion. The silence continued otherwise as Steve guided you to the elevator, then in the direction of your apartment. 

Once you fished out your keys from your small purse, you managed to get the door open. Hercules was eagerly awaiting on the other side. 

Steve saw your full body sigh. 

He swallowed hard, waiting outside the doorway still. “I can take him out, if you’d like.”

You avoided his eyes but nodded. “Sure. Thanks.”

Even just spending time outside with Hercules caused Steve’s heart to ache all over again. He thought he had suppressed it all - channeling all his complicated feelings until nights out and all his unrelenting rage into his fists. And yet, they bubbled up again without warning just at the sound of your voice. 

God fucking damnit. 

When he returned to your apartment, with a slow, sleepy pup at his side, he contemplated his next move. He knew he should probably just let Hercules back inside and go. But, he was a sucker for punishment. So, he cautiously opened the door and called your name.

Hercules, freed from his leash and collar, bounced towards your bedroom. Steve stepped to the side and peeked through the open door. You were laying flat on your bed, changed into pajamas. He sighed again, retrieving an ice pack from your freezer and moving towards your room.

“You should ice your foot,” he said slowly, offering you the compress. 

You stuck your hand out for him to hand it off, then rested it on your foot without a word. He retreated back towards the door and waited.

Finally, you spoke. “God, I wish I was still drunk.”

Steve let out a breath. “And why is that?”

“Because I have a thousand things to say to you but..”

Steve waited to see if you’d carry on your thought but instead you fell back deeper onto your pillows. He glanced up to the ceiling then took a step further into your room. 

“It’s after 2AM now.” He leaned against the doorframe. “Honesty Hour.”

You let out a dry laugh. “Sure. Go ahead, you start, I guess.”

“Uh, how come you aren’t spending the night with your boyfriend?”

This time your laugh was a lot deeper. “I don’t have a boyfriend, Steve.”

“That silver haired guy?”

“Wanda’s brother. Just a friend. Not that it matters.”

He knew he should keep his commentary to himself, but Steve couldn’t resist. “You let all your friends touch you and dance with you like that?”

You sat up. “That’s none of your business. And at least he danced with me. Unlike you.”

Steve drew in a sharp breath. “Okay, I deserve that.”

You sighed, shifting in your bed to meet Steve’s gaze. “Yeah. You do. The worst part about this entire thing is I feel like I gave you a lot, you know? I was honest and still tried to make it work but you just.. you were mean, Steve.”

He took a step towards your bed. God, he wanted to crawl in beside you. No, those days were long gone. “Sweetheart, I..”

“You were mean. I thought you were different but fuck. It’s funny - Bucky and Sam told me how much of an idiot you are! Like they felt bad, apologetic even. Isn’t that fucked up? But youuuu. You just blocked my number and moved on and you didn’t even say sorry. I fell in love with you! And you didn’t even… God, did you care about me at all? Was this just a big joke to you?”

“Of course I care about you. It’s just.. it’s complicated. My life is complicated, okay? I can’t.. we can’t..” He stepped back again, dragging a hand down his face. “I am sorry.”

“Yeah. Whatever.” With another frustrated groan, you laid back again and turned away from him. “I guess this is the end. So, have a nice life, Steve.”

He wanted to drop to his knees and apologize again, to get at least one last look at you but Steve knew it was too late. 

-

When you woke up the next morning, the entire evening felt like a dream. But as you stepped off the bed and your foot radiated in pain; it all came flooding back.

Shield, drinking, dancing, Steve, the helpless young girl, Steve, that piece of shit stomping on your foot, Steve driving you home, Steve letting out Hercules, arguing with Steve... Steve… Steve Steve Steve

Of course, I care about you. It’s just.. it’s complicated.

Have a nice life, Steve.

You groaned, very slowly throwing on enough clothes to venture outside with Hercules. The more pressure and time you spent standing on your foot, the worse it felt. When you checked in on the group chat and let them know you were alive, Claire insisted you visit her at work to get your foot checked out.

Given how desperately you needed to unload about what happened with Steve, you put yourself together and headed to the hospital.

“Okay, here’s the update. The tech owed me a favour so this one was on the house.” Claire had been a saint and since you were somehow visiting her on a slow morning after her own late night, she had managed to get you through all the paperwork quickly. “The x-ray just showed a teeny tiny fracture. So a tensor and taking it easy should suffice but let’s get the official prognosis.” She stuck her head into the nearby hallway and called for a doctor, by first name. 

God, you appreciated her.

Claire’s doctor colleague confirmed what she had said and advised on rest, ice and Tylenol. If it got any worse, you could return for a cast.

“Maybe just a short walk for Herc tonight,” Claire said with finality, flipping the chart closed and dropping into the chair beside the bed. “Now, I have a ten minute break and need to know what the hell happened with Steve last night. He drove you home?”

Although you couldn’t bring yourself to tell Claire every single detail, it felt good to say it all out loud. Maybe you could sense a fraction of remorse in Steve, but it still left you with such an upsetting feeling. Why was he so curious about who you were dating or not dating? It didn’t matter to him anymore. 

It was bittersweet to think that your actions with Pietro had impacted Steve so much. Not that you needed him to be jealous but it reminded you he was human still. 

Of course I care about you. 

As you made your way back down to the exit, passing through the emergency room and through the main reception of the hospital, someone called your name. The voice was strangely familiar and when you clued in to who it was, your heart sank.

“Sarah! Hi.” You paused at the set of chairs near the door, giving a small awkward wave to Sarah Rogers as she stood to say greet you. “It’s nice to see you.”

“You too, sweetie.” She pulled you into a hug and you wanted to melt into the floor. God, how could a woman so sweet raise a son like Steve? Well, no. Maybe that wasn’t a fair question. Before that awful phone call, Steve had proved himself to have traits just like his mother - headstrong, considerate, protective. Damnit. Why did things have to turn out the way they did?

You gave her a soft smile, doing your best to dismiss your plethora of confused thoughts. “What are you doing here?”

“Oh, I volunteer in the palliative ward on the weekends. Usually just a couple hours in the morning.” Sarah motioned to the chairs and invited you to sit. “Do you have a second to talk?”

-

You were running late leaving work - again. God, your boss had been relentless with our workload lately. Gone were the exciting after work adventures from summer. As the fall creeped in and your list of projects grew, you had a feeling more late nights at your desk were in the future. Really, after that night at Shield a few weeks ago, you had pulled yourself back immediately. It had been a while now since you’d done anything beyond a Saturday at the market - which was probably good for your foot, at least.

And now, to make matters worse following your frustrating day at work, there was a thunderstorm in the forecast again. And considering Pietro had just left to go home earlier in the week, you weren’t sure who would be coming to your rescue this time.

You made it to the doggy daycare just minutes before they were closing, apologizing profusely to the girl at the counter as you collected Hercules. When you made it outside and started your walk, you planned out exactly how the rest of your night was going to go: shower, fresh pajamas, ordering in from your favourite Indian place - if they were still open, you needed to check your phone for their hours and–

“Ooof.”

Somehow, only a block before your building, you walked straight into a brick wall of a person. As you mumbled out an apology, you realized it wasn’t just any person, given the hanging tag around his neck. Although he wasn’t in a full patrol uniform, you could see it was someone from the NYPD.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, officer. I wasn’t watching where–”

When he cut you off, reassuring you by saying your name out loud, you narrowed your eyebrows. Wait. What? Why did this officer know who you were? Had he been waiting for you on your route home?

“How do you know my name?” You squeaked out, gripping Hercule’s leash in one hand and your phone in the other. You darted your gaze down to your phone, trying to unlock it.

The man reached out and hit the backside of your hand, sending your phone up and out of your hand. Then, he caught it with a grin. “We need to talk about Steve Rogers.”

--

CHAPTER 05 - CHAPTER 08

[solacescastleglow]

🩰🍳🌿 Daily Life Aesthetics 🌿🍳🩰

What do you do when you can't motivate yourself to do things without a moodboard, but you don't want to look at a screen? Print the moodboards out of course! These will be going into a binder along with some troubleshooting notes so I can get things done even when my executive dysfunction is an issue. I highly endorse making these, the process was so fun.

Morning Routine

light stretches, the clean feeling of having just brushed my teeth, sesame turkish bread with hummus, reading with bleary eyes, chai lattes, the certainty of knowing exactly what I'm going to do that day, upbeat music, fresh air through the windows, saying good morning to my cat, picking out a cute outfit.

French

the sound duolingo makes when you get 10 in a row, nasal vowels, repeating phrases under my breath, understanding a new sentence for the first time, writing a ç by hand, watching french movies with french subtitles, studying the republican calendar to learn new nouns, understanding cooking and ballet terms instinctively.

Studying

the ritalin kicking in, getting 100% on a quiz, write now edit later attitudes, marginalia, a cup of tea slowly cooling next to my laptop, messy desks, flashcards, today's study schedule on the wall, feedback from professors, watching online lectures at 1.75x speed, going to a cafe to think.

Leaving the House

the sun on my face, buying flowers for the house, the smell of a secondhand bookshop, museums, getting a little treat, sitting in the shade, reading on a park bench, farmer's markets, the sound of rain hitting an umbrella, picnics, finding a cool record, seeing people wearing pretty outfits (and telling them that).

Exercising

winning badminton, feeling not exhausted but satisfied after a game, seeing my muscles actually move when I flex them, happy baby pose, better posture, laughing through the pain when doing bicycles, going on a walk, connecting with my sibling through pilates, high reps on the lightest weight possible.

Going to Therapy

the catharsis of crying, the ache in my chest fading after years of heaviness, allowing myself to be a kid again, feeling more whole, finding parts of me I thought were gone forever, knowing I can handle whatever life throws at me, laughing with my therapist about serious topics, curling up in a safe corner of my room.

Working on my Book

designing characters, research, writing rich descriptions of settings, planning out illustrations and page layouts, bringing imaginary conversations to life, watching over someone's shoulder as they read what I've written, finally getting a frustrating sentence right, dreaming about children who will see themselves in my writing.

Housework

a little nudge from the robot vacuum, the smell of steam coming out of the iron or dishwasher, exhausted satisfaction after finally getting the fitted sheets on, laundry in the wind, everything in its place, a clear mind in a clear space, rinsing the dust off the damp duster, the smell of fresh laundry.

Planning my Week

neat rows of binders, colour coded spreadsheets, calendars with everything in place, vision boards, grocery lists crumpled in a hand, knowing exactly how this week will go, step by step guides to each task, feeling safe in case of emergency, a messy journal and a neat wall calendar, time blocking.

Personal Finance

putting away 50% of my income into savings, being surrounded by beauty, a comfortable sinking fund, transferring money between sub-accounts, getting everything I've ever wanted, investing in things I'm passionate about, creating stability for the future, being debt free, being able to get a little treat with what I've saved.

Participating in my Religion

a cheekful of wine, the presence of g-d in the room, candles on ornate candlesticks, tikkun olam, the cycle of the year, awe as the ark opens, ripping challah apart, the grounding points of the magen david when I squeeze my necklace, playing with tzitzit, praying sounding like birdsong, the dusking of a new day.

Cooking

mise en place, the smell of garlic and spices, bubbling pots on the stove, the whole house warmed up, chatting with my dad, fresh vegetables, mountains of parmesan cheese, the chime of the pressure cooker, pretty plates, sitting down to eat with family and friends.

Showering

double cleansing, feeling literally squeaky clean, gourmand scents, leave in conditioner making my hair feel like seaweed, the tingly feeling of glycolic acid, burberry her mixed with cocoa and coconut, scented candles to set the mood, listening to self improvement podcasts, smooth skin.

Nighttime Routine

cookies and chamomile tea with my family, watching tv, calling 'goodnight' down the stairs, overheads off and warm lamps on, teeth feeling so clean after an everything toothbrush, reading in the faint light, filling out my journal, nighttime yoga, daydreaming about the future, an easy slip into a deep sleep.

[mad-maximoff]

𝐃𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐂𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐌𝐞 𝐁𝐚𝐛𝐞

Summary: Don't call her babe, under no circumstances.

Warnings: Language, light bondage, gentle dom, soft choking, fingering, edging, denial, oral

Word Count: 1,949

"Who...in the fuck are you?" The statuesque blonde cocked her head violently around her shoulder. Her heavy silver chain hit her collarbone.

"My name's Mazzy. I'm from the resistance. You need to come with me now Barb." A much shorter woman came before the blonde whisking her hand as she led into a cellar door. Down a spiral metal staircase. "The resistance! I thought they were meeting me at the airport?!" Barb grew skeptical following the brunette. Mazzy's hair was shaved bald on either side of her skull in a short mohawk. Every orifice of her body was either covered in tattoos and piercings.

"Pfft! I thought so too. Supposedly the airport had bomb threats so it wasn't safe to fly you out. We have to take the subway." The stairs ended against a brick wall with a crater blown in the middle. "Duck!" Mazzy's hand laid on Barb's head to push her through the brick. "Watch the hair kid!" She brushed Mazzy's hand away adjusting the wild curls. "Fine, fine. We're in the last free city and you're worrying about your hair? Haha!" Mazzy brushed it off not wanting to start anything quite yet. She looked up to Barb Wire. All of the young freedom fighters did. After she took down the Congressional Council and killed Colonel Victor Pryzer she became a hero. Perhaps after this, the whole world will be free.

"I'm a hit woman with a specific look honey, I need to look the part." Her heeled boots ticked along the subway tiles. The subway system shut down years ago, so the last of the Congressional Council wouldn't find them. "Well, your hit woman days are over babe." Mazzy joked as her hips swayed along to the noise of the only subway growing to a halt.

"What did you call me?" Barb stopped behind Mazzy. She hated that sentiment. To be called 'babe' was her most hated. Barb's demeanour turned from confused to pissed in a matter of seconds. The subway cart finally drew to a complete stop opening the doors. "All I said was you being a mercenary and a bounty hunter was over." Mazzy threw herself down on a seat. Barb followed behind arms crossed over her the breast of her leather jacket. "No. The other part." Barb's leather boot tapped the subway cart floor, as the doors closed, Barb and Mazzy were the only ones in the cart. The lights began to flicker.

"What?... What the hell are you going on about?" Mazzy huffed as she slouched her back lower in her seat, widening her legs so her boots lay flat on the floor.

Barb Wire was feared by everyone, especially men who did not pay their debts. It was most often messy when she'd drag their asses back to pay their debts. Usually kicking and screaming. Her boots scraped along leaning in front of Mazzy. Her hands gripped the seat behind Mazzy as her body moved more towards her. "No one calls me Babe. You're going to have to pay for that Maz." Barb growled flipping her platinum hair behind her shoulder.

"Huh? Don't get your panties in a twist, I didn't mean anything by it. What're you gonna do? Shoot me?" Mazzy chuckled brushing off Barb's stern tone. Barb removed her hands from the backrest of Mazzy's chair as she tore open her leather jacket revealing her leather bodysuit. "Do you see a gun? I have no more ammo, besides, I wouldn't waste my good bullets on you." Barb bent down this time flicking a few strands of Mazzy's hair from her face. "You need to be taught some manners." Her boot planted beside Mazzy's body to have more leverage.

"Really now? You teach me what? To tie a corset? On the subway really?" Mazzy scoffed brushing this whole thing off. Mazzy thought Barb Wire was just playing her bluff. Knowing her reputation Barb was a very sarcastic person. The lights flickered again leaving them both in the dark for a moment. The lights came on only to see Barb untying the front of the corset with the string in hand. "On the contrary. Babe. You need to learn how to treat your leaders with respect." Barb's hands spun around Mazzys' arms tying her arms behind her back with the string. "What the hell-..."

"Shut up. You talk too much for your own good." Barb's hand laid around Mazzy's throat not moving a single finger. "And I'm going to make sure you learn a lesson." The lights in the subway cart went out again leaving them both in the dark again. Mazzy tried to free herself thinking Barb was not aware. Barb's boot scuffed against Mazzy's soot-covered blue wash jeans. Barb's body leaped onto Mazzy's lap. "Where the hell are you going?" The cart, still dark with the only light coming from the tunnel lights. Barb's hand tilted on Mazzy's neck back. As Barb straightened her back, her leather top dropped to the floor. "The fun is just starting baby." Her bouncy hair covered Mazzy's vision. Her buxom glossy red lips smacked together before landing on top of Mazzy's much smaller lips. They broke for air, Mazzy realizing her cracked lips were coated in Barb's lipstick. Maz saw before her the leader of their resistance straddling her tied-up body. Barb grinned smearing the lipstick all over Maz's face. "There. That'll shut you up." Barb lowered her hand to untie the string of her leather thong. The thong dropped to her knees only sporting fishnets. She stood up kicking the leather thong off, while her hand latched on Maz's shoulder tumbling her down on the seat. Barb unbuckled Maz's belt as she whipped it out of the belt holes. "You don't need this right? Guess not." She hummed as her body crawled on top of Mazzy.

"A?...what? This is your interpretation of a lesson? A sexy strip tease?" Maz joked with little to no confidence. The fear pondered in her brain, what happened to the last person who called her babe? Mazzy stirred under the pressure of Barb's weight, while the seam of her denim jeans loosened around her waist. "You don't know how to shut up, do you? In that case, let me make you scream." Barb's hand crept under Mazzy's jeans to the plain cotton underwear under her denim. Barb's fingers swept down Maz's pubic bone when her finger finally found what she was looking for. In truth, Barb did not want to hurt Mazzy, after, they only just met a brief moment ago. Yes, she was pissed for Maz's remark but she didn't want to do major harm. She thought since they were going to be here a while, and she'd be alone on a plane to Canada when they arrived, perhaps she'd make a little fun out of it. A victory she'd call it.

Mazzy was all out of sorts. She felt drunk even though she didn't drink a drop. A daze; perhaps she hit her head on the way down. Her emotions were out of wack as well. Fear, confusion, even lust. She would never admit she was horny as hell. Yes, Barb Wire is an attractive woman. Especially a gorgeous blondes hovering over her the likes of the infamous Barb Wire.

Her index hovered finally in contact with Mazzy's pulsating clit. Maz's body jumped under Barb's with a muffled noise. "Awe aren't you cute, whining like a little puppy? Come on puppy, let me hear you." Barb switched holding herself up to lay her hand across Mazzy's throat. Her digits curled around Maz's skin piercing sharply. Barb's middle finger crept lower to her center diving deeply into Maz's slickly coaxed fold. Mazzy's stifled noises echoed through the subway cart erupting more loud than metal hitting the rails. Maz's moans were jagged under the blonde. Barb's grip around Mazzy's throat tightened. Not in a hurtful sense, in a sense in which Mazzy feels the most pleasure possible. She had no reason to kill or hurt Mazzy. No personal or finacial gain. Just a thrill.

"Oh-..." Maz's head was spinning. Either from the subway moving or Barb's grip. As Barb began to thrust her middle finger her thumb drifted over the brunette's clit. Barb, smiling ear to ear, bent her head locking her lips to Mazzy's. Her grip still slightly loosened. All of Barb's signature red lipstick smeared across Mazzy's lips. Her tongue locked with Mazzy's briefly without any hesitation to continue the long and rather sloppy mess they both were in. Barb's lips let go raising her head. "Fuck...you keep doing that and I might bring you with me." Her finger twitched inside Mazzy as her thumb circled her erect clit like it was a tiny button. Maz felt the instant feeling that was coming. She was. The feeling was like a rollercoaster. Making it up to the top to climax to crash down on her high. The hot bliss of Maz's core palpitated as it tightened around Barb's finger. She slipped her finger out to peer down at Mazzy's trembling body.

"P-please...Barb!" Mazzy cried out. "K-keep going..." She sighed out in the sense her high was wearing thin. "I think you enjoyed that too much." Her grip around Maz's throat disappeared trailing down her top to the hem of jeans. Both of her hands hooked on either side pulling the denim down past her ankles, over her chunky boots. "I definitely did. Though," Barb threw her platinum blonde up off her shoulders. Her body cascaded lower past Mazzy's knees. Cracking them wide open. "I know you'll enjoy this more." Maz panted, basic whines escaped her lips not fully knowing what would happen next. She had a grasp of what was going on, nothing could ever prepare her. Barb's head ducked into Maz's thighs. Maz's arms have already fallen asleep behind her back from all of her weight. Mazzy bucked once she felt the faint glide of Barb's tongue over her most sensitive area. Her nails dug into Maz's soft thighs.

"Oh god...B-Bar-" Her moan cut through the air louder than all of the others combined. "You're such a good girl." Barb hummed fluttering her tongue deeply into Maz's drenched pussy. The noises of moans and wet sloshes howled through the subway cart. Who knew two women alone could conjure such a racket. Barb's tongue flicked Maz's clit with her body tensing up. Mazzy tried to silence her moans but every breath she took in her moans grew more garish. "Who's my good girl? Huh? Is it you?"

"Y-yes!"

"Yes, what?"

"I-I'm you're good girl!" Maz spat out tilting her head back on the seat. It stirred back up inside Mazzy's being. The feeling of the rollercoaster. Climbing up to the top. Come crashing down. "Oh god!" She cried tensing every muscle in her back. Barb's nails punctured further into Maz's skin as Maz's moans vibrated the subway cart. Barb perked her bead up crawling back up to greet Mazzy's stained face.

"Haha! Now wasn't that fun?" Barb brushed away tiny strands of hair that sat on Maz's forehead, planting a small kiss in the same area. Mazzy was lost for words, she nodded not finding her voice quite yet.

The subway lights flicked back on to their orangish yellow hue. Barb loosened the strings off Mazzy's arms, reupholstering the string to her corset and thong. "Huh maybe you should join me on that plane-..." Barb's word was cut short as the cart came to a halt. The doors swing open to be greeted by a whole fire squad of the Congressional Council awaiting for us.

"Well fuck...this will be fun."

[galatially]

kendra!! imagine pietro in a western au though. he’s an outlaw that’s notorious for escaping capture for so many years. he’s so fast they give him the nickname quicksilver 🤠

JESSIE YOUR MIND!

but imagine that you're a barmaid working to settle your father's gambling debts with the sheriff in old west wyoming. despite the constant leery men and the gossiping church marms, you enjoyed working at the saloon.

when sheriff ross started having his men put up wanted posters of the man they dubbed "quicksilver", one of the working girls, sylvie, regaled you with the gossip.

"they say he hails from texas. killed his wife and sister in a blind rage when he found out she was steppin' out on him. his poor sister just happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time."

"that ain't what happened," bruce banner, one of your regulars, piped up. "they say he comes from just a few states over. was the son of some rich fella and come back home from minin' to find his whole family dead: daddy, mama, sister. he's been huntin' the men that did it ever since."

sylvie let out a scoff. "well, did you hear about how he got his nickname? at least four states and ten sheriffs have been chasin' him for eleven years! he's always fifteen steps ahead!"

you shook your head, chuckling. "i didn't take either of you for the tall tale type."

"it's true!" bruce leaned in closer to you. "heard from a fella two towns over that the men responsible were a couple o' ross's boys: stark, rogers, and barnes."

you knew them; ruthless men that had on more than one occasion made their fondness for you more than known. steve, the leader of the trio, had told your daddy before he passed that you'd be his bride come hell or high water.

you shushed him, your eyes darting around the bar. "don't let anybody hear you! ross has eyes and ears everywhere, you know that."

"yeah, bruce, you're gon' get us all killed!" sylvia hissed.

the doors to the saloon swung open suddenly and the room went deathly silent. the stranger was well over six foot, cloaked head to toe in heavy brown leather. his heavy footfalls echoed throughout the bar, the only thing distinguishable on him were the piercing blue eyes beneath the brim of his hat.

he took the seat between bruce and sylvie, those eyes holding you in place. "an ale if you would, miss."

you nodded wordlessly, quickly getting the mug filled. "that'll be five pieces silver, sir."

ten pieces were set down in front of you. your eyes rounded.

"sir, i — "

he waved off your reply, a smirk in his eyes. "i am much obliged, ma'am." he leaned in closer. "but if i can be so candid? is it always this quiet?"

"we don't get many strangers here," you said, smiling sweetly. "what brings you rawlins?"

"oh, i have some business with a few men here. ol' friends of mine." distant shouts grew louder and the man chuckled. he knocked back his drink and spun around to face the doors. to your surprise, he said your name.

"yes?"

"how's about after i finish up with my friends here, we get out of here? montana's nice this time o'year."

you blinked. "what?"

"i got a couple friends out there that are helpin' me build a house. i'm gon' need a wife to tend to it when i'm workin' or out huntin'." he looked at you over his shoulder. "how do you feel 'bout four?"

"four...?"

"kids. two boys, two girls."

your face warmed. "now, hold on, you can't just come waltzin' in here, goin' on and on about marriage and babies, when i don't even know your name."

"sure you do, honey. ol' man ross's got my face done up all over town." your heart sank. "though, i suppose you're meanin' my christian name. that's —"

"maximoff!" anthony stark's gruff voice bellowed.

the stranger turned to face you again, a smirk deep in the corner of his mouth. "but you can call me pietro."

[witchersmistress]

the down fall of Eros

Hello my darlings!! worked on this beauty while i was on the beach today.

Trigger Warning: Swearing, Violence, alcohol, soft Sy

Word count: 2.4K

Sys pov

Dragging my feet back inside, I couldn't face the thought of being in my office not where her scent lingered. So I went to the bar and ordered a whiskey neat from Theo.

He gave me a look as I downed the whiskey and he filled the glass up again. " Boy, if you have something to say, say it. I am not in the mood for games" I drawled. He swung the rag he was wiping the bar down over his shoulder and picked up his drink and tipped it in my direction. "May I be frank with you Mr. Stone" I grunted at him and he continued. " You are a goddamn idiot" the pateron to the left of me choked on his drink as I glared daggers at Theo.   He began to wipe down the bar as he watched me " what did you say to me boy?" I sharply asked, I heard him the first time but I wanted to see if he had the balls to repeat himself. 

"With all due respect sir, you are my boss, but you are a goddamned idiot. Even a blind man could see how much you care for Rory, why else spend 100 thousand dollars on her to keep her out of the hands of that Irish prick O'Malley? She was clearly on cloud 9 when she left but you just put her in your car without a second glance, that's cold even for you boss." Draining my whiskey again he pours me another " is she really worth losing over, something she can't handle, cause let me tell you, that girl is one tough cookie, nothing could stop her or slow her down” he tossed the dirty rag in with the dirty dishes and took off with them to the back.

Looking at the bottom of the glass as if the amber liquid would hold all my answers “He’s right you know, Syverson” a dark and sinful voice purred in my ear, i turned to find Liliana standing next to me, her long dark hair cascading down her back, her warm caramel colored skin, glowing under these lights and her dark eyes looked like obsidian from this angle. I downed what was left of my whiskey, turning in my seat to face her. She was in a long white dress, a stark contrast to her naturally dark vibe she gives and as per usual, she had Bambi wrapped around her arm, with her head resting on her chest just above the swell of her left breast. Why she insists on carrying that damn snake everywhere she goes, i'm not sure but it gives her an edge that most men wouldn't dare cross and has most women bowing at her feet.

She beckoned me to follow “Come Logan, take a walk with me” I threw a 50 down on the bar for Theo, he may be a smart ass kid but he is always a wise one for his age. Catching up to Lil with ease, we walked through the club, to the seething underbelly, located downstairs. Down here, people could be who they wanted to be, from voyeurism to reverse harems, to public sex, there  was something for everyone down here. With a lot of trust, safe words and limits, the world is yours for the taking down here. I followed Lil to her dark corner of the room, she walked with such pose and grace as she sat down in her throne, with a particular young man attached to the wall by a long chain and collar.

 It wa s Mikey, my nephew, i sat across from Lil while she got comfortable in her chair with a heavy sigh i pointed at Mikey ``I'm not going to ask but be gentle he is a kid” she clucked her tongue at me “Please Logan you worry to much, besides i'm holding on to him as a debt from you beloved brother, once he pays up he can have his son back” Mikey went to protest but she pulled on his chain “ Shh my pet, the adults are talking” he quickly shut up and looked back at the floor. “He is an odd one that is for sure” she just gave me a knowing smile while stroking his hair “So why did you kick that poor girl out like she we was yesterdays trash, the poor thing was in tears as they pulled out” wide eyed i studied her “How in the actual fuck did you know i did that?” she winked at me and gestured around the room with her hands, “I have eyes and ears everywhere doll and don't you forget it” she was our silent partner in the business so she could come and go as she pleased. She was not my cup of tea but she was a fascinating woman.

“ Liliana, I have to protect her, she is my best friend's daughter and the stuff that Walter, August and I are involved in could get her hurt or worse even killed.” she scoffed and rolled her eyes, “Bullshit excuse, you and i both know that you would move heaven and earth to protect that girl, hell look at what August has done to keep Addie safe” she had a valid point, “This is Rory we are talking about'' i countered “She isn't like Adeline or Amelia'' Liliana snorted at that remark. “That is true, Amelia’s father is a damned fool if he thinks he can hide her from Walter, that man will find her and there will be hell to pay when he does' ' Mikey snorted but didn't say anything else. Leaning forward and resting my elbows on my knees.

“What can I do? I might have pushed her away for good, how can I fix  that?” she tsk tsk me like a child. “Seriously Sy? You really are a goddamn idiot, you get on your knees and worship her the way you should have, honestly boy you should have grabbed her at 18 and never let go, so you may lose your best friend but if he truly wants his daughter to be happy, he’ll come round” whatever weight that was holding me down suddenly lifted and spark of clarity came in “Thank you Lil, i don't know how to thank you” she waved me off “Anytime sugar, now go get your girl, your bike is still in the garage if you need it” bolting up the stairs and to the elevator. My phone pinged.. It was fucking Walter 

Walter: Now hold on, where is Rory and where is the damn fire cousin??

Not responding to him, I don't want to play his games. 

August: “Now now brother i'm fairly certain, he scared her off”

Sy: 🖕🖕🖕

Rushing off the elevator, I changed from my monkey suit, into jeans and a t- shirt with my leather jacket and bolted down the stairs, racing over to my bike, I started it and bolted out of the parking garage. Speeding in and out of the LA traffic, desperate to reach Rory in time. I drove into the parking garage of the hotel and made my way inside, passing the front desk. The  lady behind the desk stopped me "Mr. Syverson sir?" I turned to look at her " Yes ma'am what can I do for you?" Striding towards the desk. A slight flush appeared on her cheeks. Clearing her throat, she continued " we are giving you a partial refund for your stay, since your second guest checked out a little while and went. Poor thing she was distraught, but she had a lovely young man with her" she continued to rattle off but I stopped listening. She was gone, she had left. With another man… I had officially lost her.

Thanking the woman, I made my way to the elevators and up to the 14th floor. Trudging back to my room, I opened the door and a folded piece of paper was under my door, picking it up, I'd recognize Rory's handwriting anywhere, she loved to leave me notes as a little girl.

Sy, I'm leaving. I'll be back Monday morning to fly home but not a moment beforehand. I'm safe and that's what matters. Don't bother trying to find me, I don't want to be found especially by you. We will fly home Monday but I never want to see you again Logan Syverson. Rory

Sitting on the bed I read that note over and over again. She's gone, and I've lost her forever. Standing up, I paced, my blood boiling at the thought of her off with another man, him touching what's mine. I pick up the lamp on the bedside table and throw it across the room with a roar, punching my fist into the wall. Reaching into the mini fridge and grabbing my bottle of Jack Daniel's I chugged sip, after sip, until all I saw was a black drunken rage.

Rorys’ POV

I climbed out of the car at the hotel and made my way inside. I can't believe that I was so stupid to think that Sy would actually have feelings for me the same way I did him. He is an excellent faker. He told me all the right things, did all the right things, he played me like a cheap piano.

Making my way to my room, i grabbed my suitcase and started throwing my stuff in there, i couldn't stay in the next room to that man, my cell phone chimed and i grabbed, it was Jesse

Jesse: Hey bonita, heard you were in LA, would you be interested in getting dinner?

Rory: Loved to, i'll text you the address for the hotel im staying at.

Jesse: see ya soon 😘

I smiled and finished packing up my things, i left Sy a note a slipped it under his door not that he even deserve that much, i told the lovely woman behind the counter that i was leaving as Jesse walked in, he was 6’2, shaved head, dark eyes, plump lips that are just damn near kissable. He was in a dark button down shirt with the first few buttons undone. Black dress pants that made his ass look phenomenal, black shoes that shined, I expected nothing else from a navy man. He gave me a warm genuine smile, kissing me on my cheek as he took my bag and placed it in the trunk of his Tesla. Opening my car door for me, my heart broke a little, he is always such a gentleman. Getting in the driver's seat, he pulled away as I looked out the window as he drove, he had one hand on the steering wheel, the other one gripping my left thigh in his large hand “Bonita, talk to me” his voice was soft and gentle. I told him about what happened at Lux. he pulled into his apartment complex, he gripped the steering wheel as I finished my story. He got out of the car, grabbed my bag and he opened my door for me. “Come let's order in and watch a movie” he placed an arm around my back and made our way upstairs. Opening his apartment, I followed him inside. “ I’ll put your bag on my bed, go get comfy while I order food, your usual?” he asked over his shoulder, i followed him into his guest room, which was plain, a bed, nightstand, a mirror, and a desk. He was very simple, he believed that bedrooms were for sleeping and sex.

Valid reasons, I always thought, walking into the ensuite bathroom, I turned on the shower as hot as I could handle and went back to my bag to get my bathroom stuff. Jesse had laid out on the bed for me one of his oversized t-shirts and my black booty shorts. “This isn't a booty call Mr.” i teased as i grabbed my shower stuff, leaning against the door frame “I know sweet girl, there is time for that later” winking at me as he left the room, walking back into the bathroom, stripping off my clothes and to the hot water to commune with my demons, tried like hell to wash Sy from my skin but it was no use i could feel him everywhere. I pounded my fist on the black tile wall till my knuckles ached. A full body sob racked my chest as I slid to the floor and cried. I felt so many things, but I couldn't process my thoughts.

I felt strong arms wrap around me and pull me closer into their chest, clinging to the  shirt clinging to their chest, whoever they were, they reeked of whiskey and bergamot, jasmine and cedar. I'd recognize that cologne anywhere, looking up, I saw into the blood shot eyes that belong to one Logan Syverson. At this moment I wanted to do so many things, hit him, punch him, rip him a new one but the look in his eyes told me more than the big burly man had ever spoken to me. My anger replaced my sorrow and I got out of the shower wrapping myself in a towel and went to go find Jesse to yell at.

I was barely out the door when a strong arm grabbed me around my waist, hauling my back and slamming the door. I struggled against his hold, he let me go and I just spun around and pounded on his chest, like a child throwing a temper tantrum. “ I hate you Logan Syverson, I cursed the day I realized you meant so much to me” I continued to beat him and he just stood there and let me, my punches became slower and slower till they finally stopped. He grabbed my arms wrapping them around his neck as he picked me up and carried me over to the bed, sitting me on the edge. He pulled a t- shirt over my head and the towel before he undid the towel and dropped it to the floor. He stripped off his wet clothes and put on a pair of black boxer briefs as he pulled back the covers, scooping me up he climbed under the covers and pulled them up. Tucking me into his chest, he rubbed my back as he kissed my head. He murmured the bedtime story that he used to tell me as a little girl, as my eyes grew heavier by the minute. That last thing I heard before the world faded around me was something I never thought I heard. “ I've loved you since I can't remember when, and I'm going to love you until I can't forget how.”

[ladyloveandjustice]

I Read the Odyssey-The Liveblogyssey! (Part 3)

The Odyssey liveblog continues! See the liveblog from the beginning here.

We continue with the Odyssey!

Ino informs Odysseus of the basic fact that heavy clothes are hard to swim in (which you think he’d know as a guy who spends so much time at sea but I digress) and tells him to strip, then gives him a magic immortal veil to tie around his chest, though he’s gotta toss it back in the ocean the second he gets to shore. Odysseus, understandably, does not trust any god at this point and is pretty skeptical, but is eventually forced to try to swim.

Poseidon is like “at last you are in pain” Dude, I think he’s been in pain well before this.

Odysseus finally crawls to shore, completely naked, and goes to sleep. Meanwhile, a princess called Nausicaa (not the one from the hit Miyazaki movie and manga, but her namesake. That sadly means she isn’t hanging out with giant bugs) is urged by Athena to wander down towards Odysseus.

Wanting him to make a good impression on Nausicaa, Athena turns Odysseus super hot and buff. I’m not kidding, it says she “poured attractiveness onto his shoulders”. I love that the gods can give you a makeover. She makes him look “bigger and sturdier” and makes “his hair grow curling tendrils like a hyacinth”.

Apparently she can’t give Odysseus clothes though, so he is forced to awkwardly “cover his manly parts” with a hunk of driftwood when he jumps out to speak to Nausicaa. He considers going to beg her help by kissing her knees, but decides that a naked man grabbing her knees would probably freak her out, good call. He gives this incredibly long speech about how beautiful she is that would probably freak most people out, but Nausicaa likes it. Thus, Odysseus is introduced to the king and queen.

Everyone loves Odysseus of course, and there’s a big party. Like all cool parties, there’s a poet there, and he tells this wild story about Ares and Aphrodite’s courtship I’ve either never heard or forgotten about:

Hephaestus suspected that Aphrodite was cheating on him, so he made chains so fine they were invisible and put them around the bed like spiderwebs, so then when Ares and Aphrodite slept together, they got all trapped.

Hephaestus hollered about it, wanting his dowry back (which…apparently the gods have dowries? What did Hephaestus use to pay them? Do the gods have currency? The only thing I think they could want is sacrifices, so maybe Hephaestus paid in that. Apparently sacrifices are transferable).

 So Poseidon, Hermes, and Apollo come to see, and Hermes is all “Hephaestus, who is lame and slow, has used his skill to catch the fastest sprinter.” Wow thanks Hermes love that backhanded complement.

And Apollo and Hermes also instantly become frat boys. Apollo is like “lol lol Hermes, my brother, would you like to sleep with golden Aphrodite in her bed even weighted down by mighty chains?

And Hermes responds “lol lol I would be bound three times as tight and let you gods and all your wives look on”. Which really makes it sounds like he’s just a kinky little bastard. Had bondage been invented yet in Ancient Greece? Probably. Maybe Hephaestus accidentally invented it. The true origin.

Poseidon is like ‘are you two twelve or something knock it off” and says “Hephaestus look I know Ares is stupid, but I promise he’ll pay you back the dowry, just let him go”

Hephaestus is like “hmmm I don’t know if I should”

Then Poseidon is like "look I will pay you back if he dodges his debt. Just let him go”.

Poseidon is a surprisingly devoted uncle! He will also go all out for his son later, so I guess “devoted to family” is his literal only good point.

So Hephaestus lets them go. And Aphrodite flounces off, completely unbothered, and just goes back to her island to get oil rubbed on her by beautiful girls (yes this is how they put it). hashtag flawless.

But the poet is not just content with this silly story! He starts singing about Troy and poor Odysseus is just sitting there quietly sobbing, pulling up his hood so no one can see him. He’s doing this for MULTIPLE SONGS and the king is right there and just sits uncomfortably for a while before FINALLY saying “hey y’all how about we give the lyre a rest and play sport or something.”

But I guess Ody enjoyed all that crying and really wants to do it again, because he actually ASKS the poet for a song about the Trojan horse. Like dude you know it’s going to be traumatic for you why do this to yourself.

Homer does a MASSIVE self plug, saying this COOL poet is telling the Trojan war SO accurately it’s like he was THERE and Ody praises him more than ANYONE!!! It’s so blatant it’s hilarious.

So when the Bard starts singing about the Trojan horse and “dreadful violence” Ody and crew committed, and of course Odysseus just falls to the ground sobbing “as a woman weeps when she fails to wrap her arms around her husband, fallen fighting for his home and children. She watches as he gasps and dies. She shrieks, a clear high wail, collapsing on his corpse. The men are right behind. They hit her shoulder with their spears and lead her to slavery, hard labor and a life of pain”.

Some serious irony here, considering how Odysseus inflicted exactly this on countless women during the Trojan War. I think this was likely intentional. Homer’s a smart guy, so I think it was his aim to have Odysseus relive the pain of his many victims, as he recalls the violence he wrought. Especially since he confirms that he helped with the abduction and rape of Trojan women a few lines later.

Which, as an aside, I don’t know why people are so focused on whether Odysseus cheated on Penelope with Circe when he did something way more horrible than cheat on Penelope---he assisted in the abduction and rape of other women, and probably even participated (I think if he didn’t, the Iliad would have noted that, since it was common practice so him refusing would have been notable)! I’d be much more horrified to find my husband did than him knocking boots with a goddess. But the thing is, Penelope probably knew he’d be doing that. It was an expected wartime practice. I saw a post that “if you believe Odysseus slept with Circe multiple times you believe all men want sex all the time" and I want to be like…okay I obviously don’t believe that about men, but I can acknowledge that’s what the Ancient Greeks largely believed which greatly changes the intention of the text. Men were expected to take “war prizes” or in Sparta’s case, sleep with younger men, because there was this idea that men needed a way to fulfill their sexual appetites while separated from their wives. The war prize practice was wrong then and it’s wrong now, but when interrogating a text like this you have acknowledge the environment it was created in, what cultural values shaped it, and that there’s no way Odysseus can come out as a “good person” or “good husband” from our perspective. You can’t turn away from the practices he engaged in, you can’t wash away the terrible things he did.

Anyway. Back on topic. The king notices Odysseus is crying again and is like “whoa stop playing that song!!! this party is clearly not fun for all!”

And then he uh, quizzes Ody about his PTSD. Seems kind of rude but okay! As a result, Odysseus finally reveals his name and sits down to tell his cool story.

(as an aside Ody mentions using a knot he learned from Circe. Apparently tying knots are among Circe’s talents???)

Then we get to what I think is the most interesting thing I’ve discovered this reading this, something we never went over in high school and college. Which is that, for the portion of the story he tells, the text seems to really indicate that Odysseus is an unreliable narrator. It’s pounded in your head what a great liar he is right before he tells his story.  In face, the very last line before be begins his tales is “Wily Odysseus, lord of lies, answered”. That really seems to imply to me that parts of this story might be fabricated, possibly tailored to make him look better because he wants these people to like him and help him get home. And that’s interesting, thinking what may be a lie! Obviously all the parts with Calypso that happened before this are true, as they’re not part of the telling. And some broad facts like Ody angered the cyclops, angered Poseidon, is true as gods and other comment on it.

But what about the details? Was Odysseus as faultless as he makes himself appear, and were his men as stupid as he has them appear? I think it’s incredibly likely he might have been more to blame for some of the deaths than he lets on. Did he even beat Circe in a fight? Did he even sleep with her? And what if there are details he deliberately leaves out, or even more painful things he doesn’t mention?

It's tantalizing to think about, and it’s weird I’ve never heard of that aspect before this.

But now we've finally gotten to the parts everyone remembers about the Odyssey. As such, I think I'll go at a much quicker pace, since anyone who's has it assigned in high school knows the basics, I'll just be commenting on weird little details. Til next time!