#tw STI mention

[stagefoureddiediaz]

The way Tommy is recoiling he totally thinks Buck has an STI doesn’t he - which obviously he doesn’t have, but it does then open up some interesting conversations and creates a very interesting hurdle that plays into so many aspects of Bucks character

His self confidence and self value being placed on his body and what it can do for others a his appearance being key to all his relationships

His past as a playboy

The lack of faith and trust tommy has in him

It brings up the cheating aspect as well

And plays into the idea of masks (especially as people with syphillis used to wear nose masks or face masks to ‘hide’/ cover up the facial deformity it could cause!) perfectly and the mask tommy has been wearing slipping now bucks appearance is compromised

[tatteredxsails]

“ it’s you and me, forever. no matter what.” To Ed from Iz @izzyeffinhands

Ed smiled, shaking his head and looking down at the gold coins that he was counting out. The promise of forever was... not something that he should count on. Forever was a long fucking time, and fuck. Everyone went away, eventually. Even Izzy would go.

"Yeah, you're right. You have the sticking power of an itch," he commented, gesturing down at his crotch. It was easier to make light of things than to return any kind of promise of forever. Even if it did seem nice. Comfortable. Familiar. Izzy was the most consistent thing in his life.

[soloquel]

you're asked at the dinner table what your favorite marine animal is and you say, "i don't know, dolphins maybe?" and levi just bolts out of his seat and leaves the room so quickly you need five seconds to process that, and by the time you do, he's back with an entire power point presentation which he projects onto the wall so that he can teach your uneducated, naive ass about WHY you should pick ANY animal in the ocean EXCEPT those damn fucking traitors. and you're gonna listen.

[lapanona]

Made the appointment sis. But the earliest I could get is next Wednesday. 🥹😭😖 the good news is that I know exactly what I have because I didn’t research sexually transmitted diseases for nothing back in college haha. But I’m gonna have to suffer until then 🫠 and these symptoms are horrible

[lalunanymph]

𝐈 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐌𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑 (𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐈’𝐌 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐘𝐎𝐔) — rin

syp — you know what they say about the correlation between a happy relationship and weight gain…

—tw. brief mentions of fat shaming, talks of weight, mentions of food, established relationship, bf!rin, dw it’s a lighthearted take on a normal occurrence in any healthy relationship <33

Rin comes back from practice grouchier than when he left home. 

You hear the door slamming, his cleats set down on the floor. You count his footsteps, hear them tracing a path from the living room into the kitchen where you’re standing, stirring a pot of soup. 

“Rinny,” you beam up into his placid expression. “Welcome home.”

He doesn’t give you a kiss or a hug like he usually does. 

Instead, his pout deepens, brows furrowing together. Sensing something wrong, you stop stirring the soup and pat your hands dry, concern suddenly eclipsing your neutral mood. 

“Baby?” 

Even though Rin was notoriously hard to read, years of dating him drew your attention to the twitch in his brow, the sullen dimple appearing in the left corner of his mouth.

He doesn’t draw out the suspense, words clip and curt.

“Coach said I gained some weight.” 

You blink. Rake your eyes up and down his defined biceps, hard abs and athletic figure. 

“Heh?” 

He unzips his jacket, tossing it onto the kitchen counter. “Yeah,” your 6 foot 4, pouting pro-player boyfriend mumbles. “Says my fat percentage jumped to 5%. Made me run a few laps.” 

“Oh,” you coo, trying hard not to smile. “Must have really sucked for you, huh?” 

His teal eyes glaze over your twin pout, and he narrows them. “Don’t make fun of me.” 

“I’m not,” you say, your smile growing wider. “Baby, I know what it’s like to be fat shamed. But, whatever your coach is seeing, I don’t. I think you’re still hot and super buff—like Spiderman.” 

Rin blows the air out from his cheeks, deflating them. You resist the urge to pinch the still lingering baby fat he carried from all those years ago in high school. “Spiderman was a twink.” 

You frown. “Bachira really needs to stop teaching you this lingo. It could be offensive to someone.” 

“Hm,” he grumbles. “S’true though. I wanna look like Superman.” 

Rin hears you walk across the hardwood floors. You take his face in your hands, pinching his cheeks to mould them into a smile. “I think you're Superman. You’re my superhero.” 

Cheekily, your grin was starting to infect his glaring expression. 

“‘Cept for when you forget to take out the trash. Then, you’re just a regular schmegular guy to me.” 

Rin’s scowl deepens. “Shut up.” 

You crinkle your nose. “That’s not what you said last night—ow!” 

He pinches your hip and you giggle as you stumble backwards. Despite himself, Rin’s moodiness breaks, your sunshine smile and bright eyes bringing him out from the darkest parts of his brain. He lunges for you, trapping you against the kitchen island. 

“Tell me I’m still sexy to you.” 

His demand was met by your soft scoff. 

“No. You just told me to fuck off.” 

“I told you to ‘shut up’.” 

“Sounded like a ‘fuck off’ to me.” 

“You’re insufferable.” His face came closer, and closer till you felt his lips brushing yours. You smile against his lips, kissing him back. 

Breaking it off for a bit, you mumble, “And you’re still sexy to me.” 

Rin sighs, stickily sweet and yearning for more of your love. 

Unfortunately, the pot bubbles over and you shriek, pushing him aside to salvage your jjigae. 

He looks at the mess you sop up, arms crossed across his chest. “I can’t eat that. Too much sodium.” 

You shoot him a glare. “Fine, then. Go and cook something for yourself.” 

Rin never expects you to refute him this fast. He dawdles, shooting you a few stares when your back turns from him. Eventually, the silence gets too loud and he sighs. 

“Isagi said something stupid.”

“When has he ever said something smart?” 

Rin fights back a smile at your sass. “Tch. He said guys who get into relationships… happy ones… tend to gain a bit of weight.” 

You stop stirring the pot. 

Rin bites on his cheek to keep a smile off his thin lips. You turn to him, pretending to be unaffected. 

“Oh? Yoichi-kun finally said something smart and true—” you emphasise. “—for the first time. I’m proud of him.” 

He looks too good in his compression shirt, biceps rippling and torso stacked with muscles that cling to the black fabric. You flush and look away, but he’s caught you. 

“So,” Rin walks towards you, arms coming to wrap around your waist. “Do you think that’s true?” 

A smile threatens to spread across your stupidly lovesick expression. “I guess so. Is this your way of saying you’re happy with me?” 

Rin’s not a man of many words, but you hear him loud and clear when he kisses your neck. 

You pretend you don’t feel your heart thrumming rapidly or the heat scorching your cheeks. “I’ll fill your bowl with konjac noodles instead. Can’t have Ego-san make you run around the field again.” 

Rin hums, and his arms remain loose around your waist. He may be a man of little words, but sometimes he would say something that made you wish you never had ears to begin with.

“So, have you gained weight throughout this relationship?” 

Quick as lightning, you turn towards him, waving the ladle in his face, soup droplets splattering onto the floor. 

“Don’t even go there, Itoshi.” 

“But—”

“Abubbubbub,” you tut. “Nope. Hard no. Keep quiet or else I’ll sabotage your diet with fried chicken.”

He gapes, wounded that you would bring up his kryptonite—one that he had discovered through late nights studying with you by his side. To think that you would be the one to bend Itoshi Rin’s unbreakable diet with greasy goodness was a power rush that could rival the world’s smuggest god complex. 

“Y/N—”

“I’m serious, Itoshi,” you say, completely serious. “Make yourself useful and get me some spring onion stalks from the chiller.”

He sighs, shuffling towards the fridge and opening it grouchily. “I’m kidding.”

“You better be.”

Suddenly, your arms are around him, and he turns to find you cornering him into the wall, your eyes twinkling with mischief. 

Rin’s heart skips a beat, and he prepares to put on a scowl that melts away into a tongue-tied, blushing mess when you murmur: 

“S’your turn—tell me I’m still sexy to you.” 

— rbs and feedback are appreciated !!

©️ lalunanymph

[you-call-it-a-dude]

Just Can't Hack It Pt.2

Pt.1

Request: so this is part two to a story. The original request was reader dealing with substance use. I had a few folks wanting another part and I was feeling inspired to add a second part so I did!

Pairings: Leighton Murray x female reader

Warnings: TW!!! I would say this one is more triggering than the first. Mentions of opioid use, accidental overdose, use of narcan/naloxone, difficult discussions around the topic of addiction, needles. This is a super heavy story. Read with caution, take a step back if it's not for you. I have many other stories you can check out if you want something more light hearted. Nobody dies, but it's a pretty realistic scenario about addiction/loving someone with addiction. Could be triggering in many ways, so please be aware.

Authors Note: here I go again adding more chapters to stories I've been saying imma leave as one shots lol. This story is super depressing, I'm so sorry. If you're into that tho, welcome lol. I apologize for my lack of posting. Ive had a lot of life changes happen recently and my mental health hasn't been the greatest (maybe writing this depressing ass chapter will help). I do want to clarify, I am not a drug user. Just a social worker that reads, does research lol. Thank you all for your patience, thank you so everyone that's read my other work while waiting for me to post again. I love you all. I love you for reading, for sharing opinions and engaging in discussions with me and I love you for existing. I hope you like this next chapter

**if you have any questions regarding Narcan/Naloxone, fentanyl test strips, or anything like that, feel free to reach out**

----

You woke up with a loud gasp, some random girl rubbing circles on your sternum. You rushed to sit forward, accidentally shoving her back.

The air was flowing back into your lungs and you felt like you couldn't get it in there quick enough. Your teeth were chattering and you were in that same fucking basement DJ died in.

You grab her wrist with shaky hands and she talked to you calmly, asking you if you were okay and all you could do was shake your head no. Your chest was heaving and it felt like you were inhaling razor blades or something.

What the fuck?

"Sit up slow." She tells you, helping you sit up and you notice her hands are also shaking. "You should probably go to the emergency room." She tells you and you're confused because you don't know why.

"Did something happen?" You ask, your throat dry. You cough to clear it and when you reach forward to grab a cup of whatever off the table, you see an oddly shaped object discarded on the table. You pick it up, your hands still shaking and you run your thumb over the pink 'Narcan' written on the label "Fuck." You whisper to yourself. "Fuck, did...?" You turn your attention to her and she kind of just shrugs.

"I'm not sure honestly. Maybe? But I didn't think it could hurt. You didn't look great, like at all."

You continue to stare down at the small nasal spray, your hands still shaking like never before. You blinked hard a few times, trying to wrap your head around everything.

"I'm so sorry." You apologized to this stranger for most likely traumatizing the fuck out of her.

"Do you have someone to call? You probably need to go to the emergency room." She ignored your apology and something about that made you feel like shit.

"Emergency room? What? That stuff worked. I'm fine." You say, tossing the bottle back onto the table.

"Yeah, but it wears off in like thirty minutes, more or less." She points out.

"Wears off?!" You ask in shock and she nods at you, looking at you like you were stupid.

"And I'm not using my other one on you so I suggest you go." She said with a slight attitude, no longer giving off that friendly vibe she had before. "And maybe get your own for next time, yeah?"

"Fine, Jesus." You say, no longer feeling as indebted to her the more bitchy she got toward you.

You take a few moments to gather yourself, still feeling not the greatest. The girl next to you that potentially saved your life was now injecting something between her toes and if that wasn't enough motivation to get the fuck up and go, you don't know what is.

You grab your things and thank her again. Unsurprisingly, she doesn't say anything back.

Your legs feel weak and shaky. Getting up the stairs and out of the house took way more effort than it should've. You hated this fucking place and you felt disgusting for even coming back.

Your intention was to take an Uber to the emergency room on campus, but when you checked your bank account you were almost certain a ride request wouldn't even go through.

You physically just felt too weak to stand so you sat on the curb, knowing you were going to have to call Leighton and just fucking hated yourself for it.

You pulled out the pills you had taken from your pocket and investigated them. You got them from Liza instead of your normal dealer. She told you they would be exactly the same pills you were used to buying from Angel, just less expensive. Your lack of funds sold you on them immediately. Except now that you actually took the time to study them, you realize they looked nothing like the other ones.

You had no idea what you took.

What you do know is you took two of them at once. It was less than what you normally would've taken. You can't even remember why you decided to only take two instead of your usual four, but clearly sober you was looking out.

Well...semi-sober you.

You called Leighton and it took three tries for her to answer. She was mad at you again because you bailed on her the other night on dinner plans that you made.

"Hello?" She finally answered. You could hear laughter in the background so you knew she was out with friends or out doing something and it made you feel even worse to ask her for help.

"Hi, Leight." You say softly, pushing your fingertips into your eyes trying to build up the courage to ask her. "Can you help me, please?"

"Help you?" She sounds concerned and you hear a door close behind her, all of the noise fading away. "What's going on?"

"I need-I need, fuck!" You try, the words feeling almost impossible to get out. "I need to go to the emergency room, I think." You finally get out, blinking hard to keep your brain working.

"Emergency room? What's going on? Where are you?"

"Please, Leighton. I'm at the blue house on the edge of campus. You know the one." You rub your palm against your forehead. "Can you please just come get me."

"Yeah. I know the one." Of course she did. Everyone knows the blue fucking house. It's literally nicknamed the druggie house on campus. There's only one reason people went there. Her voice sounded monotone and she was definitely connecting some dots. "I'm coming, I'm not far away." She hangs up on you before you can even tell her goodbye and you just feel her disappointment radiating through the phone.

It was less than ten minutes when you saw a familiar car pull up.

Leighton stepped out of the passenger side and as soon as the door closed, the window was rolling down to reveal Whitney in the drivers seat.

"Are you kidding me, Leighton." You complained as she rushed over to help you.

"Shut up." Whitney said from the driver's side, rolling her eyes at you.

"Fuck you!" You spat at her, letting Leighton help pull you to your feet.

"No, fuck you! What the hell is wrong with you?" You stayed silent because you didn't have an answer to her question. "That's what I fucking thought. Now get in the car."

Leighton sat in the back with you, letting you lay your head on her lap. She hasn't said a single word to you since she picked you up and you don't know if it was the drugs or the anxiety caused by her silence that was making your heart race the way it was.

Your body was sore and your head ached. You turned so you could bury your face in her sweater, inhaling the smell of her. She massaged your scalp, pulling you closer to her body.

Whitney dropped you both off at the front door and said to call her when you needed to be picked up. She sounded a lot nicer now, but she was also talking to Leighton.

You weren't feeling great at all and you definitely had the fear that whatever dosage that girl gave you was wearing off and you were going to die in the waiting room of this fucking hospital.

Leighton helped bring you to the front desk. You declined her offer of a wheelchair because something about that just felt degrading. Having to have her push you because of something you did to yourself?

Falling to the ground and crawling would be less embarrassing.

The woman at the desk greeted you and asked what was going on and you hesitated. Because even though Leighton probably figured shit out by now, you never said it out loud.

Saying it out loud would finally be admitting that you had a problem, which is why you've avoided it for so long.

"I-um-I-" both Leighton and the lady at the desk with the patience of a saint watch you fiddle nervously with the pen attached to a chain. "I am not feeling too great. I was given narcan maybe thirty minutes ago." You were blinking rapidly trying to get through your sentence, the fluorescent lighting and the pounding headache was making your brain short circuit.

The lady at the desk sat up quickly, asking you for your ID and insurance card, asking someone behind her to call for a nurse. You pulled your wallet from your pocket and Leighton had to help you pull the cards out because your hands were shaking and you just couldn't do it.

A male nurse appeared out of nowhere with a rolling blood pressure cuff and asked you to follow him to the triage area.

"What about my stuff?" You ask, letting this man escort you to a little area.

"I've got it, baby." Leighton said calmly, a few steps behind you, shoving your ID back into your wallet that she was still holding.

You sat down in a chair with your feet planted firmly on the floor like instructed and you felt like this firm wooden chair was consuming you.

He slipped the blood pressure cuff on your arm, the stethoscope planted firmly in the center of your arm. His eyes never left you while he asked you some questions.

"Do you know how many doses of the narcan you received?"

"Just one." You say and he nods.

"What did you take?" He asks, making eye contact with you and waiting for your response.

You swallowed and looked up at Leighton, who was waiting at you expectantly to answer.

"I don't know. It wasn't from my usual person. My friend that got it for me said it would be the same and it wasn't. I took less than what I normally would." You admit and it sounds embarrassing to even say something like that. You just hope he doesn't ask you-

"How much do you normally take? How much did you take of these?"

"Um, four to five 10mg Percocet. I only took two of these."

"Okay." He nods and the machine starts to beep. He removes the cuff from your arm and motions to someone behind you. "We are going to take you back now, okay? Your blood pressure is too low." He said while he and Leighton help you stand up and you were mortified to find them leading you to a wheelchair.

"Yeah, okay." You nod and when you sit you look back between Leighton and the nurse with a panicked expression. "Can she come back with me?"

"Of course." He takes hold of the wheelchair and takes you to a double door, pressing the button and leading you and Leighton through a maze of curtained rooms before bringing you to an open bed.

As soon as your butt hit that bed, two nurses were rushing in one was hooking you up to different machines and pulling down your shirt to stick electrodes on your chest to monitor your heart.

Before you could even process anything, your bed was being lowered and you were laying flat on your back and the second nurse was giving you a second dose of narcan up your nostrils while the first nurse finally explained to you and Leighton what the fuck was going on.

She said that narcan is usually done in two or more doses and that it often wears off before the effects of the pills do. That because you only received one dose, you were already showing the signs of the first dose wearing off and going into another potential overdose.

You didn't even have time to panic or freak out. They had the narcan up your nose and had you sitting back up like it never even happened. Leighton nodding with wide eyes from the chair next to you and trying to absorb what the nurse was saying.

You gripped the bridge of your nose and squinted your eyes while the nurse finished speaking, already starting to feel better.

"We are going to keep you here for a couple of hours just for monitoring." She rolls a little tray over to your bed that has a needle, test tubes, and a tourniquet. All the makings for getting your blood drawn. "We are required to do a toxicology screening on you, especially since you do not know what you took." She slips on a new pair of gloves. "These results will not be shared with the university." She reassured when she saw your face drop. "Arm out."

She cleaned your arm with an alcohol pad and tied the elastic tourniquet around your arm, pressing on your veins to find a vein. She inserts the needle in your arm and you watch the multiple vials fill up. She removes the tourniquet, has you hold a cotton ball where the needle went in and slaps a bandaid over it. She cleans up the area and says she'll be back shortly and walks out without saying another word.

Leighton had been silent the entire time. She was holding your things and sitting on the chair next to your bed watching the monitor with all off your vitals. Her eyes looked glassed over and you didn't know what to say or how to even begin to say it.

"Thanks for coming with me." You say pitifully and her eyes dart from the monitor to look over at you.

"I feel so stupid." She says, shaking her head. "Everything is like, making sense now, you know? The missed dates, the weird behavior, the angry outbursts." She nods her head, almost like she was agreeing with her own thoughts.

"I'm so sorry."

"And then you take shit that you don't even know what it is and- and you fucking overdose? What if you fucking died, Y/N?" She sounds so angry, but you can see she's on the verge of tears. You reach for her, touching her arm and she yanks herself away from you. "Don't fucking touch me."

"Then fucking go if you don't want to stay." You say, staring up at the ceiling, blinking back tears.

"Stop."

"I should've just let myself die on the curb of that stupid fucking house." You slammed your head against the pillow, the machines beeping like crazy for a brief moment.

"Can you just shut the fuck up with that self deprecating shit?" She spits, crossing her arms and legs.

She's very closed off and distant now. It almost felt like you could feel her distancing herself from you in real time. There's an awkward silence between the two of you and you reach for her.

"Leighton..."

"Mmmh mmmh." She shakes her head no, keeping her attention focused on her phone

"Baby." You try again and when her fingers pause over the phone screen you know you're getting somewhere. "Please, baby."

She rolls her eyes and sighs, giving you her attention.

"What."

"I'm really sorry." You say sincerely, playing with the edge of the flimsy hospital blanket.

"For...?" There was no hint of emotion to her voice. But in scenarios like this, Leighton was always good at shutting down and putting her walls up.

"For how I've been treating you. For a lot of things."

"If that's all you're going to say, that's a really shitty fucking apology."

"No! Of course that's not all. I-fuck. Okay. Just give me a second to collect my thoughts."

"Well, maybe if you weren't high on god knows what you'd be able to give me a less pathetic apology."

Maybe it was your high wearing off, maybe it was just the drugs in general, but man for the briefest moment you wanted to cuss her out.

You clench your jaw and exhale through your nose in an attempt to remain calm.

"If you let me fucking finish talking maybe you'll be more than the pathetic apology." You say through gritted teeth and she just raises her eyebrows at you expectantly. "I fucked up, okay? I know that. I didn't mean for it to get this bad." You admit and she tilts her head, her gaze visibly softening.

"What do you mean?" She scoots the hospital chair closer to your bed.

"I got the meds originally when I messed up my knee. It freaked me out about if I would get to play again or not. When I got back into it, it was great, but I fucking sucked and there was this insane amount of pressure to be as good as I was before my injury. There still is that pressure. My knee just felt tight all the time. Like it was about to snap at any moment. I did the physical therapy, the ice baths, I did everything. Well, everything but admit that maybe it's just straight up fucked." You look down and begin to pick at on your fingertips. Leighton reaches forward to stop you and instead you press your thumb against one of her manicured nails, enjoying the feeling of the pinpricking pressure against your fingertip.

"Keep going, baby." She encourages softly and you could feel yourself relax.

"I refilled my final prescription for my meds right before I started playing again. I would ration the bottle and take them after games and stuff. Then I took them during a game and realized I could play pretty damn good and my leg felt fantastic. Well, until afterwards when it felt worse than ever. Turns out if you take meds to prevent pain, it's really difficult to gauge when you're pushing yourself too far. So I would take some meds before the game, during the game, then again after the games..." Leighton opens her mouth to speak, but you continue with your thought. "...And then one or two more before bed."

"Jesus Christ, Y/N." She says, sounding both shocked and horrified. "I don't even...how long-how many? I don't know! I'm trying not to ask my question without sounding like a dick." She admits and looks to you for some guidance.

You don't know her exact question, but you can guess where she was going with it.

"It was supposed to be refill that lasted three months and finished it in like a month. Maybe a month in a half if I want to be generous. They were a low-ish doses, so I would take more."

"How many were you supposed to take a day? How many did you take?" She asked her questions in a quick succession.

"I was supposed to take one, max two, a day." She nodded and raised her eyebrows expectantly. "I was taking like four to six."

"I-what?! You know what," she takes a deep breath to calm herself down. "Let me approach this in a non-judgmental way. I just, I really want to know what happened to escalate the situation and bring us where we are now." She squeezes your hand reassuringly.

"So my prescription runs out and I find a connect when I go to one of the parties at the blue house. I got pills from him for a while, but you would not believe how expensive opioids are." You tried to joke, only when you looked up to see Leighton was not laughing, not even cracking a smile, you quickly cleared your throat and got serious. "After DJ died in the house, I starting using more and it was just getting more expe-"

"Wait what? The guy that overdosed in the house, you were his friend?"

"I, well, yes. But I was also...there. I called the ambulance when I found him." You could feel everything else coming out like word vomit. "I introduced him to Liza, who introduced him to drugs." You clenched your jaw, trying to swallow down the breakdown you've been keeping at bay for over a month now. "I killed him, Leighton. It's my fault he's dead." You look up at her tearfully and when Leighton frowns and calls you 'baby', you fucking lose it.

She stands up and pulls your face from your hands. The machines attached to you are beeping rapidly for who knows what fucking reason and it was pissing you off.

"Get these off of me." You say mid sob, attempting to pull the electrodes of your chest, yanking at the wires and your shirt blindly. "Get these fucking off!"

Leighton was fighting your arms at this point, doing her best to keep your arms still. Your brain could comprehend that you were smacking her unintentionally, hitting her arms, her hands, and her chest. You felt like your body was stuck between fight and flight right now. You felt out of control in every aspect, mentally and physically. You wanted to stop, you wanted to calm down, you just literally could not.

Within seconds two nurses came in and Leighton held your arms until one of the nurses took her place. Her absence felt more upsetting and agitating, so you attempted to reach for her. Your throat felt raw from crying and now you were screaming for Leighton, begging her to help you.

You gripped a nurses arm tightly, your face smushed against her scrubs while you watched Leighton's horrified expression as the two nurses turned you on your side. One of them pulled your pants down on one side and inject a tranquilizer into your ass cheek.

You gasped and squeezed the nurses arm, mortified about what happened and that it happened in front of Leighton. You were also both shocked and impressed at how quickly your heart rate was going down.

You also felt absolutely terrible for the tears and snot you were getting on this poor nurse's scrubs. Going back and forth between pitifully apologizing to her and to Leighton while the meds kicked in.

You could feel your arms getting heavy and the nurses began to lay you on your back again. The one you were gripping for dear life was covering you with a blanket and you can over hear the one that injected your ass trying to talk Leighton through what she just witnessed.

Something about it being normal behavior when coming off a lot of drugs so suddenly. You don't fucking know.

What you do know is Leighton looked pale and traumatized and that it was absolutely your fucking fault.

You reached for her. Desperately trying to tell her that you loved her. That you're in love with her and that you were so fucking sorry.

She looked at you confused, holding your hand and telling you she couldn't understand what you were saying. You could feel yourself getting riled up mentally, but your body felt stuck. Like gum to the bottom of a fucking shoe you were stuck and locked into this bed.

The nurses left and she pulled her chair close to your bed again, her hand never letting go of yours while she did. She sat in front of you, calling you baby, pushing hair from your face, and telling you that it was okay and to just close your eyes for a little bit.

You moaned and whined, tears sliding down your cheeks. They matched the ones streaming down Leighton's and you wanted you kiss them away. Instead she wiped your tears and begged you not to cry, her lips pressed against the side of your head.

You closed your eyes, Leighton's lips against your temple while she whispered calming things in your ear.

---

You woke up confused. You had a hospital gown on over your shirt and pants, and you were also pretty sure you were in a different room.

"Water?" You croak, your mouth dryer than nothing you have ever experienced before.

"Here." Came a voice next to you that was most definitely not Leighton.

You turn your head to the side to see Whitney holding a styrofoam cup with a straw and you push yourself to sit up straight, blinking and wiping away the dried up tears and sleep gunk from your eyes.

You hesitate at first, but you take the cup from her. You drink the cool ice water down like your life depended on it.

"Thank you." You tell her when you finished drinking, breathing heavily like a toddler after they downed some juice. You look around the room for any signs of Leighton, finding none. You try not to panic, but the machine measuring your hate rate gives you away.

"She'll be back. I sent her home a bit ago to change into different clothes and get something to eat." Whitney informs you, setting the water on the little table. She stands up and goes to the sink, wetting a small stack of those thin paper towels with warm water and wiping your face and mouth. You could feel your dried spit and snot come off with ease. You closed your eyes while she wiped your face, too tired to feel embarrassed. "Better?" She asks you, patting your face with a dry paper towel when she was done.

You nod your head yes, settling further into the bed.

"How long was I out?" You stare at the analog clock on the wall, but it doesn't help much since you didn't even know the time you came in or were knocked out at.

"Maybe seven hours? It's been a while. They said it could range from like six to twelve hours." You nod, staring at your covered feet. You can feel yourself checking out mentally, but Whitney talking again brings you back to earth. "Leighton filled me in, I hope that's okay."

"Mhmm, yeah." You shrugged and nodded, trying to hide your shame over the fact that another person knows this about you now.

"Why didn't you say anything to anyone?" She was soft with her approach, but there was a thin layer of assertiveness underneath.

"Well, Whitney, the thing about having a drug problem is you don't really fucking realize you have a drug problem until you end up in a hospital and get a needle shoved into your ass cheek. Or, maybe it's when a girl that injects meth between her toes gets pissy for using her Narcan on you. Gee, I just can't decide." You say sarcastically and Whitney's face hardens slightly.

"Okay, I get it." She says defensively, sitting back in the chair to lean away from you. You sigh and attempt to run a hand through your hair, but it's all matted and sweaty.

"Sorry, I'm sorry." You say quietly. "I thought I had a handle on it, okay? I didn't think it was a problem." You admit, nodding your head as you thought to yourself. "Clearly." You vaguely gesture to yourself laid up in a hospital bed and Whitney nods.

"Everything is starting to make sense though. Your behaviors, your angry outbursts, the way you treated Leighton."

You wince at that last one. You treated her horribly the last like eight months and you knew that.

It was such a weird feeling. To love someone so deeply and be unable to stop yourself from absolutely wrecking them and treating them like shit.

"Yeah, I've been told already things are adding up. Glad I could provide some clarity." You give her a tight lipped smile and a weak thumbs up.

"You're awake!"

You look up to see Leighton coming into the room, a little visitor badge pinned to her hoodie. You nod, looking up at her with a smile. Your eyes start to water, something about seeing her just hitting you with the overwhelming urge to cry because you were so fucking happy she came back.

You open your arms for her and she sets her purse down to rush to your side and give you a hug. You wrap your arms around her and hold her tightly, pressing your lips wherever you could.

A knock at the door caused her to pull away. She took the extra seat on the other side of your bed as the doctor came in and greeted you, washing his hands.

He did an overall exam on you. Checked your mouth, your eyes, listening to your heart and lungs. He pulled his stool up to your bed and rested a folder of paperwork by your feet.

"So, we got your blood results back. It's routine to drug test in these situations. The school will not be informed of the results." He reassured you like the nurse did previously. "Now," he opens the packet of papers to a specific page where numbers are highlighted. "You have a decent amount in your system. I'm sure that's something you're aware of." You nod and he continues. "We do not think you overdosed on the pills themselves. Not to say that means you should go out and keep slamming them back."

The three of you made a face at him, unsure if his comment was meant to lighten the mood or if he was just a dick.

"So what's the problem then?" Whitney speaks up and he clears his throat.

"Well, you have a dangerous amount of fentanyl in your system. Whatever you took was most likely laced. Had you taken the four pills you said you normally took, you would probably be dead. Here are some packets about fentanyl as well as some inpatient and outpatient treatments for opioid addiction, and some information about methadone." He sets about five pamphlets in the open space between your legs and stands up, pushing his chair back in. "The nurse is going to come in with your discharge paperwork. Schedule an appointment with your PCP. Have a good day ladies." He sanitizes his hands and leaves the room, leaving the three of you looking confused and dumbfounded.

"That was it?" Leighton asks after he leaves, clearly frustrated. She reaches forward and grabs the pamphlets off your legs and thumbs through them furiously. "You almost fucking die apparently and that's it? You go the fuck home? What the fuck."

"Leighton, please stop." You say calmly, but she was pacing the room now while she read.

"This methadone seems good. I can call my dad and get you into a good rehab. Inpatient or out." She says while reading through the pamphlets and you start feeling overwhelmed.

Of course you wanted to be better and to stop taking the pills.

But the thought of actually doing it scared the shit out of you.

"Can I please just go home first and figure this out later?" You ask, scratching your eyebrow.

"Yes," Whitney says and looks up and Leighton sternly. "Yes, you can." She says, answering for Leighton.

"I have one request." Leighton says, shoving the pamphlets into her purse before sitting at the edge of your bed. "Please stay with us for a bit. A few days, a week. However long. Just please do it, okay?"

You nodded your head. You knew you scared her, no, fucking traumatized her. She was looking at you right now like she wanted to cry. Like if you told her no she would probably burst into tears.

You couldn't tell her no. You couldn't do this to her again. You definitely couldn't do anything to risk losing her.

"Yes, I'll stay with you. Can I stop at my room at get some clothes?"

"Absolutely. Can I go in with you when you do?"

You hesitated. You thought about the state of your side of the room. You definitely weren't as clean as you used to be. You most definitely had been slacking on doing your laundry and the thought of her going in there and seeing your gross, crusty underwear made you want to flip.

You still agreed though and she kissed your cheek. She went to kiss your lips and you turned your head.

"My mouth feels disgusting. More kissing later?"

"Deal." She nods, sneaking a quick peck onto your lips anyway.

There was a knock on the door and a nurse stepped in holding some paperwork.

"Alrighty, Y/N. Let's get you outta here, hun."

---

You rushed into your dorm, quickly picking up dirty clothes from the floor and tossing them in your hamper, picking up trash and shoving it aside.

"Sorry, I'm sorry." You apologize profusely for the state of your room.

"No, don't. It's okay." Leighton says, taking in the space.

She hadn't been allowed into your room for a while. Usually when she would come over it would be spotless and smell like air fresher. It was a complete 180 from what she was used to.

You could almost see her absorbing in the gravity of your addiction. As if almost OD'ing on laced pills, blowing off her dates, and having frequent mood swings weren't enough. She was getting a first hand view of how little you had been taking care of yourself because of it.

Something about that felt more shameful than anything. You felt vulnerable and exposed. You had been caught putting on a show and now all the curtains were being pulled back to expose the complex layers of your addiction. Exposing problems that you didn't even realize were becoming problems until someone you love is watching you scramble to clean it up.

"I just need to get some clean clothes." You say, opening your drawers and finding them to be pretty bare. "Fuck." You whisper to yourself.

"Why don't you bring some dirty clothes with you and we can do laundry at my dorm. Okay, baby?"

"Um, y-yeah." You blink hard, slamming your drawer shut. You open another and are thankful to find a handful of clean underwear. You pull them out and shove them into the bag Leighton had set on your bed. "Can you get me some shirts from my closet? I'll gather my dirty clothes."

"Of course." She turns around to look through your closet.

You grabbed a garbage bag and began picking clothes off the floor, plucking clothes from your hamper and other various surfaces around the room, shoving them into the trash bag. When a bunch of change falls out of one of your pockets you sigh, going back into the bag and digging through the pockets of any pants and shorts you shoved in there to make sure those were empty before you continued.

You picked up a pair of sweatpants, digging your hand into the pocket and freezing when you felt something sharp-ish poke your fingertips.

It was almost like you could hear angels singing when you pull the item from your pocket. A small baggie with three little blue pills in it. Three pills that you most definitely recognized and knew they would be safe. You traced your thumb over them, licking your lips.

"Do you want this sweater, babe?" Leighton asks from the closet behind you and you briefly turn around to face her.

"Yes, that's perfect, baby." You tell her. You weren't even looking at the sweater.

You had look at her face. Feeling guilty about everything that went down. Feeling guilty about all the time and energy she was probably going to put in to taking care of you.

You knew the best thing to do right now would be to hand the pills over. It would be the responsible thing.

You wanted to be responsible.

You grip the small baggie in your hand tightly and scratch under your nose with the back of your hand, thinking of the way you were going to hand the baggie over.

You open your palm again to stare at the pills, your hand shaking. You look around the room one more time, turning to smile at Leighton while she had a few shirts and sweaters draped over her arm for you.

You wanted to be responsible, just maybe not today.

You clear your throat, shoving the pills into the deepest corner of your front pocket.

[mickriccenergy]

Shiver

Chapter Four - Fathers Be Good to Your Daughters

♡ Mick Schumacher x Reader, Best friend!Danny Ricc x reader

♡ TW: PLEASE READ BEFORE PROCEEDING!

This chapter contains descriptions of physical, emotional, AND mental abuse by a parent to their child. It contains descriptions of the aftermath of the physical abuse. It also contains scenarios where reader is verbally abused by a parent. If this is triggering for you, there will be a TLDR at the very end of the chapter. Please scroll down to the end of this page if you want to know what this chapter is about, but not read it in its entirety.

♡ TW: Swearing, inaccurate timeline of F1/F2/F3, badly translated German using Google, not proofread, anxiety and panic, crying, alcohol consumption, a mention of throwing up (but not graphically or anything), allusions to a smutty situation, mentions of female anatomy, making out (??), angst, hurt/comfort, physical/mental/emotional/verbal abuse - read above.

♡ She/Her pronouns are used, nothing descriptive about reader except that her hair is long enough to pull back into a ponytail or braid, no reader insert, timeline skips. ALSO: WARNING!!!! I will barely be mentioning Michael Schumacher. I do not presume to know what he is thinking, or would say in these fictional scenarios. I am trying to be respectful of their privacy and not make any assumptions!!!!!! He will be mentioned here and there, but I do not believe any dialogue will be associated with him. If you do not like that, then do not read it. :) 

♡ About 12.3k words, lmao. Oops

♡ A/N: For one, this chapter was so emotional and personal for me to write. I'm very happy with the way that it turned out, as it took me about two days to complete it! It's quite a long chapter, so please take breaks if you need to. Thanks again for being so nice to me, and I hope you enjoy it.

Also, this chapter is not in chronological order of events. I based the sections on what lyrics are put and what I thought would go well with them.

I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR WHAT YOU DECIDE TO READ OR NOT READ!

If you or anyone you know is a victim of abuse, please do not hesitate to call the provided numbers after clicking any of the links at the bottom of this page.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

based on the song lover of the light by mumford and sons 

“Stretch out my life and pick the seams out

Take what you like, but close my ears and eyes

Watch me stumble over and over” 

Mick knew from a very early age that having solid friendships was something very important to have in order to build a strong foundation in life. He saw that modeled so dearly by his father, and all the friendships he had made over the years. His older sister had great friends who treated Mick with nothing but respect… And some pranks. And his mother (besides the envied relationship she had with his father, her husband) always stressed that having good, pure of heart friendships would take you further in life than anything else. 

And for the first time in his life, Mick felt that warmth and joy with you just weeks after you had moved to Germany. Your friendship bloomed quickly and tightly, as you two seemingly became inseparable. It was a rare sight seeing one of you, without the other at school. Everyone could notice the shift in momentum when you were absent and Mick was left confused as to what to get to lunch that day. And vice versa, when he’d be gone - you’d be often found wandering around the school’s library not actually picking out a book, at every recess you had. 

But Mick as bad at math as he was, was more acutely aware of any signs of emotional or mental change in you than one would believe. He could see it in your expressions and body language if you were going through something at home. Your nose would scrunch more and you’d have more difficulty doing simply math problems than usual. You made it a point to never chew on your pencils or straws, but if you were particularly stressed… You could easily bite through the stick of lead or plastic. Mick knew this and he recognized it more as your friendship grew. Most of the time, you’d reassure him with the exact smile he fell in love with and most of the time he’d take your word for it. 

Except the day he didn’t and refused to let up when he could tell it was more than just stress. 

“It’s fine, Mickey, just drop it.” 

“I will not drop this, Smidge!” Mick was now chasing his best friend down as she stormed out of his room. 

“Leave it alone, ugh!” You spat back, as you opened the back door and tried to create some space between you and the blond boy. You took your hair out its ponytail holder in frustration, trying to make that antsy feeling going away by running furious hands through your hair. 

“Smidge, I swear, if you do not tell me what is going on right now-“ 

“Oh, you swear?” You turned on your heel in anger and gestured towards whatever imaginary thing you were gesturing as you huffed. “You swear you’re going to do something about it? Huh? Fuck off, Mick!” 

Mick let out a scoff, which kind of turned into a laugh? He was laughing now? You rolled your eyes and turn your back on him once again. You had plopped yourself on the lawn, looking out at the vast city line in front of you. You began to pick at the grass below you, your hands needing something to fiddled with to try and center your anxiety. You took a deep breath. Mick could see from behind the way your shoulders rose, and shakily fell. He knew you were trying not to cry. And of course he never wanted to see you cry, but part of him wishes you did. He knew it would probably make you feel better… But to be honest, the last time he could remember you crying in front of him was when you fell off your scooter just a few meters from the very house you were constantly visiting. Mick tried to shake that happy thought out of his mind, because he didn’t want to ruin it. 

“Smidge… Please, I know there is something bothering you, and I promise I will not tell anybody else… But you know I hate it when I cannot help you.” Mick spoke softly as he took a seat beside you. You avoided eye contact. 

Mick was trying to decipher what your facial expression was like, but your hair had fallen and was covering the view. He took a deep breath and reached his hand over to yours. Grabbing your fingers delicately, while also trying to get you to stop pulling out the grass, he gave your hand a squeeze. You squeezed back gently and still without making eye contact, you scooted closer to him. You leaned against him, your head on his shoulder. He adjusted as needed, his right arm placed behind him so he could support the both of you.

You always found comfort and safety tucked underneath him. And you knew that you two would be sharing a blanket and watching a movie in no time. But that fleeting thought only gave you a second of relief. The two of you remained in silence as you listened to the rustling of the wind as it danced with the leaves and branches. You could hear birds chirping in the distance and you could practically cut the calmness of the world around you with a knife. This is where you wanted to be. You never wanted to leave this spot, but life was never that kind and soon enough, reality pulled you back in as Mick’s humming brought you and your daydreaming to a halt. 

“I didn’t do well on my last math exam.” You stated. 

Mick stopped humming. He was trying to figure out why that of all things had you so upset. He didn’t comment though

“I got a B- or something…” You sighed. “I studied and I studied… But I only got a B-… It was humiliating.” 

“I am sorry about that, Smidge. I know how much you value getting good grades.” Mick finally responded. His tone was… trying to be supportive, but he really didn’t understand why getting a B- in math was so devastating. He would LOVE to get that grade on a math exam, even after studying. 

“I don’t care about getting good grades, Mickey.” You retorted quicker than you probably should have. You stiffened your posture and moved away from him. Your heart rate was picking up and you were getting nervous. Mick noticed. He noticed everything when it came to you. 

The blue eyed boy wasn’t sure what came over him next, but as you sat now sort of in front of him, he guided his hand up to your face and moved your hair out of the way. He tucked in what he could behind your ear, a few pieces falling still. You looked up at him and he could finally see… and feel just how distraught you were. 

“He cares that I get good grades.” You finally croaked out. 

Mick’s facial expressions now were the confusing ones. At first he was relieved you told him. The next second he was confused as to why that was the reason you were upset…. And the third was panic. And he’d never admit this to you, but if it were because of some guy at your school making fun of you for something like that… Oh he’d have some words with that person. 

“Oh… Ehmmm… Oh…” Mick pressed his lips together in confusion. You could see the gears moving in his head as he tried to figure out who you were talking about. 

“My dad.” You finally cut him off. He looked as though he was about to give himself an aneurysm if you didn't stop him from thinking so hard. 

“Oh.” 

Now, Mick has always had his suspicions about your home life. For instance, when you didn’t come to class one day when you two were younger, the teacher had made a comment about if he knew about your home life or not. He then went to his father and asked advice. He let it go for the time being, because you really weren’t absent a lot, but he made sure make a mental note for later. Seemingly, you had a pretty decent home life. You got along with your older brother, and you always said your mom was one of your best friends. Albeit, you never spoke much about your father. He was in the military and pretty high up in command. His job was very ‘hush hush,’ so even you, his daughter had limited if information on what he actually did as well. You always spoke about him with respect though, and never making it seem like there was anything going on at your house. 

But Mick… Mick was sorely mistaken. You were wearing a zip up jacket which wasn’t uncommon, but Mick did think it was a bit warm for it. He never would dream on commenting on what you were wearing though. Slowly, you peeled the jacket off of you and as slowly as you did, was as slowly as he could process what was in front of him.  

Your arms were littered with bruises. Not just bruises, fingerprints. Someone was pressing into your skin, your precious beautiful skin so hard that they left their fingerprints. Mick blinked quickly, trying to see if his brain was playing tricks on him. Soon enough, you took off your shirt as well. Mick didn’t even care to notice you in your sports bra. But there were even more bruises on your skin that you had been covering for some time now. Based on the yellowing on the biggest one near your ribs on your left side… You had gotten hurt a while ago. Yet, there were bruises on your back and your chest that indicated they were fairly new. Mick felt like his heart was going to explode and his brain was going to go with it. 

You allowed him to look at you - to process the information presented. You thought that showing instead of telling would be more effective, anyway. Moments later, you put your shirt back on and sighed. And if you weren’t sat in the middle of Mick’s backyard, you’d shed your leggings too to show the damage there.

Mick shakily breathed out your name, which he never called you. He always called you Smidge or Liebling - never your real name. He himself felt tears brimming in his eyes as he watched you put your shirt back on and throw your hair back into a ponytail. It was as though the visual he was getting was completely different from the mental images he was receiving. He couldn’t catch up and he just did not know what to do. 

“How long?”

Mick finally gained composure and demanded to know more. His tone was serious, short. He was never this… Cold with you? You could tell he was absolutely fuming too. The tips of his ears were turning red as his jaw pulsated with every clench of it. Now he was the one unconsciously grabbing clumps of grass and ripping them to shreds. 

“What???” You tilted your head. 

“How. Long. Has. He. Been. Beating. You.” The angrier he got the more German he got too. His accent was quite thick as he stood to his feet and began pacing. It was never a good sign when he would pace. His fists were wound up in tight balls, knuckles pale white with tension, as he thought of every scenario in which he could kill your father, and get away with it. 

“Mickey-“ 

“No, don’t you dare ‘Mickey’ me right now! How long has he been beating you up?” Mick cut you off and rushed towards you. He was just inches from you now. 

You knew he was angry, irate even. And you knew he’d never hurt you, and that this anger was not directed towards you. But on instinct, you backed up as your breath caught in your chest. 

Mick shook his head, running his hands through his hair. He knew his parents would be home soon and he knew if they saw how angry he was… They’d have questions, and he could never lie to them… Which means they’d figure out exactly what was going on with you… Which meant… Well, war. 

You took another deep breath and bravely closed the gap between you. You had never felt anything like you had before Mick. You had never had a boyfriend, nor any friends that even came close to the security you felt with him. You reached up and caressed his cheek, his face leaning into the palm of your hand. You almost never initiated physical touch besides leaning on him. But he always welcomed it no matter how limited it would be. He closed his eyes and grabbed your hand in his, the both of them interlocking as he nuzzled into your hand farther. 

“I…I can’t remember how long, Mickey. I can’t remember how long it’s been since it started.” 

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

“I have done wrong, you build your tower

But call me home and I will build a throne

And wash my eyes out never again”

There were rare occasions that you and Mick were not together, but he was handsome and simply because of his surname, was like catnip to ladies. While you were still in Formula Three, Mick had graduated to Formula Two. Even so, having his last name meant he was probably getting more invites than the average person. 

But come on, no one is average in Monaco. 

“It’s so nice to finally meet you!” 

“Yeah, you too!” 

Women’s bathrooms at parties and clubs were something else. There was no caste system in place and if you needed to cry about your ex or needed to puke your brains out before Gasolina came on (but who wouldn’t), a women’s bathroom at a club felt like the safest place to do those things. 

“You’re with Shoemaker, right?” The very clearly drunk girl beside you yells in your face. Sure, you were also drunk… But why was she yelling? 

“Schumacher.” You corrected. 

“Yeah!! He has blond hair and is super hot? Yeah, dude, my friend was hardcore hitting on him and getting the vibe from him…” The girl beside you held in a burp… Or maybe she just was just not trying to puke in her mouth. 

“Sure, he’s handsome.” You finally answered. You just wanted to get some water. 

“Oooookay, well I th-think my girl is going to try and make a move on your friend,” The drunk girl slurred as she was trying to get the cap of her lipgloss separated from the tube of the glossy pink liquid. “I just wanted to make sure there wasn’t anything between you guys!” 

The girl began applying her lipstick as you tried to process what she was saying through your own drunken state. Finally, it all came together and you turned your head to face her. 

“You hunted me down just to ask me if your friend has permission to sleep with Mick?” You tried to sound as sober as possible. 

The girl shrugged her shoulders and shot a quick smile to you as she gathered her purse. 

“W-Well, you guys are always together! She just wanted to make s-sure you weren’t a thing.” You nodded as she finished speaking and primping her hair. 

And maybe it was because you were drunk, the emotion of jealousy arose in you. Luckily, your cheeks were already flush from the shots of tequila you consumed earlier. You were sure Mick always had girls trying to hit on him and maybe they were successful in doing so. Mick was an adult and as long as they were consenting adults too, what’s the harm in him having a little bit of fun? 

What’s the harm, right? 

“No, Mickey and I are not a thing. So, uh, tell your friend to not worry about - not to worry about me.” You finally responded as you blotted a cold and wet paper towel on your face. The girl grinned and blew a kiss in your general direction, soon then stumbling out of the bathroom just as clumsily as she had stumbled into it.

You took a few deep breaths and looked down at your phone screen. The letters were moving on the screen as you tried to focus your eyes long enough to reach the Uber app. You didn’t know why you wanted to leave all of a sudden. Consciously, you knew Mick had his pick of women and probably picked from them when he wanted to. Yet again the giant green monster clung to your chest as if it was part of your beating heart. Sloppily typing your location into Uber, you managed to click ‘Order.’ 

Your driver is 13 minutes away. 

You took one last look at the bathroom sink making sure that at the very least you had your wallet and hotel key card. Nodding to yourself, you made your way out of the bathroom and back into the sea of sweaty bodies and blasting music. The exit sign was aglow about 50 yards in front of you??? No - that can’t be right. 50 feet? 50… Dancing bodies? And as you did your best to toddle over to the exit, you finally managed to get out the door. 

The crisp, cool air was a refreshing touch after being in a crowded club for hours now. Frankly, you didn’t like going out to clubs, but Mick did and any chance to score some free tequila was always a win in your book. You leaned up against the wall beside the club closing your eyes. 

“Smidge? Was machst du hier draußen (What are you doing out here)?” A familiar voice, a very hoarse one at that brought you out of your drunken mini nap as you pried your dry eyes open to see who that was.

“Sie sollten nicht alleine draußen sein (You should not be outside by yourself).” 

Mick’s usual perfectly coiffed hair was messily atop his head as his porcelain cheeks were red with the heat of the club and many shots of jäger he did. He wore a simple dark blue button up and black jeans. His shirt sleeves were rolled up to his elbows lazily matching the state of his hair. You smiled at the boy in front of you and eyed his hair up and down. 

“I’m going home, Mickey. Well, not home-home.” You shrugged shoving your phone in his face. He backed up and his eyes squinted at the screen. 

Your driver is 8 minutes away. 

“Alright, Smidge.” Mick took a lean against the same wall just next to you. 

Your shoulders were barely touching when you could feel his fingers try and find yours as your arms were at your side. Your heartbeat began to pick up as your hand finally found his. And it wasn’t a full hand hold… Yet this felt much more intimate. Barely interlocking fingertips, he hummed softly to himself as he looked up at the night sky. 

“How did you even know I was out here? I thought you were getting hot and heavy with some chick somewhere.” 

Mick let out a breathy laugh. He shook his head in disbelief and smiled widely. 

“Hot and heavy?” He repeated in jest. 

“Shut up.” 

You rolled your eyes and tried your best not to look at him. You knew he was staring at you with those eyes and you also know you turn into a puddle when you look into them… especially when drunk. 

“But no, I was not getting hot and heavy with that chick somewhere.” Mick finally spoke. “I’ll always find you, Smidge. Ihre Sicherheit steht für mich an erster Stelle (Your safety is my number one concern).” 

“Ich bin erwachsen (I’m an adult).” You groaned looking at your phone screen. 

Your driver is 4 minutes away. 

The two of you stood again in silence as you still waited for your driver to arrive. Mick hummed to himself and suddenly, was kneeling on the ground. You looked down in utter confusion as he began to undo the clasps to your heels. He didn’t say a word as he managed to effortlessly undo both shoes of yours… And you were honestly impressed because you thought he was way more drunk than you. Taking something out of his own crossbody bag, he opened a tiny case and handed you some flats. You had told him a while ago about these ballet flats you saw on the internet that easily folded up for ease of access. You didn’t think he was paying attention, but there he was as he slipped the flats onto your feet and grabbed your heels. 

You were frozen in stance. He was acting so casually as he looked down the road for the driver. Your heels were in his one hand while the other reached behind him for your hand. Hesitantly, you placed your hand in his and walked over to the curb. 

“I think I see our driver.” 

“Our driver?” 

Your best friend and you exchanged equally as confused expressions. Mick’s expression was that of offense and disbelief, while yours was of perplexity and unsureness. 

“Well, yeah. I am not about to send you back to your hotel room in the middle of the night in Monaco - alone.” Mick stressed and stretched out the last word as if it were supposed to be something completely obvious to you. 

“Again though, I am an adult, Schumacher.” 

Soon enough, the Uber driver pulled up to the curb and rolled down his driver’s window. The driver asked you for your name and as you recited your first and last name for some odd fucking reason, Mick opened the back door for you and ushered for you to get into the car. You eyed him carefully trying to decode his actions. Sliding into the car and putting your seat belt on, you were surprised when Mick also slid into the car. 

“Can I change the address of the Uber? I will pay whatever you need to do so.” Mick chirped as he leaned towards the driver. 

Your best friend and the driver exchanged the how’s of it all, and finally the car began to drive away from the still busy club scene. 

“Why did you give him your address?” You whispered. You could feel the alcohol still inside yourself, swimming in your veins. 

“Alone. Hotel room. Alone. Monaco. Alone-“

It was as though Mick was reciting the Winter Soldier’s trigger words. He spewed off the reasons and tried to also go through the whole ‘Concern for your safety,’ lecture one more time, this time with more emphasis. And truly, you didn’t know what came over you - or maybe you did and maybe those tequila shots were in fact a terrible idea - but as he was ranting and raving about the streets of Monaco and how (and this was very true) unsafe it was to be a woman alone at this time of night, you leaned over and cut him off with a press of your lips to his. 

Mick’s hands found your waist as you had your hands on either side of his face. You had to remind yourself that you were still in the back of the Uber. Pulling away, you could see how glassy his eyes were, yet still filled with the same affectionate expression he always had towards you. Cuddling and tucking yourself into his side, you could hear him humming as he draped a hand over you. 

“Thanks, and sorry for the confusion earlier.” Mick gave the driver an extra cash tip before the two of you made it to his condominium. 

Mick drunkenly fumbled with his keys with one hand while holding yours with his other hand. You tried to pry your hand from his so he could have an easier way of unlocking his front door, but the grip he had on you said otherwise. 

“If I can have a super license… I can open the door with one hand, Smidge.” The front door finally swung open after what felt like an eternity.  

The two of you shed your shoes and as he plopped your heels down on the counter and washed his hands, you managed to find some food in his fridge. 

“I’m drunker than I thought…” Mick mumbled as he came up behind you, his arms wrapping around you. You ever so slight leaned your head back so your the sides of your heads were touching. 

And as you both looked at the inside of the fridge, not wanting to move, you could only turn around to face the boy. You put your arms around his neck and placed a kiss on his forehead. The intimate act was not lost on Mick, either. And this time his hum sounded differently than usual as he closed his eyes, holding you tightly to his body. 

Finally as you two peeled apart, you grabbed a few beers and some leftover pizza, turning on your heel. Mick followed you as you navigated your way into his room. Well, he’d also just follow you anywhere, but as you entered his room, he could swear he was dreaming. 

Mick helped you put the food and beer down and told you he was just going to changed into sweats as he disappeared into his bathroom. At the same time, you rummaged through his closet and drawers to find clothes. You dawned one of his old Ferrari shirts and some shorts you found that actually fit you.

After you both had changed, you got comfortable and sat on his bed criss cross waiting for him to come back. Mick was in his bathroom, his sweats already on, but his mind racing a mile a minute. 

You both were way too drunk (even if it didn’t seem like it) to take things anything further, but for some reason tonight the ambience was much different - more intimate. It was the feeling he so desperately longed for you to feel as well. He’d never force you or guilt you into feeling the way he always has for you, but he was just happy to be able to be there for you when you reciprocated. 

Even if it was just for one night… Mick kept repeating in his head as he splashed his face with water. 

Mick exited the bathroom and smiled softly at the sight in front of him. You were absolutely glowing and the fact that you were wearing his clothes was even better. This was the life he wanted with you, and he knew he’d wait an eternity to earn it. And in any lifetime, he would want to find you, he knew that much to be true. 

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

“Skin too tight and eyes like marbles

You spin me high, so watch me as I glide

Before I tumble homeward, homeward”

Mick was absolutely dominating Formula Two, just as he did in Formula Three. So there you were visiting Mick the day before free practice was going to start in Silverstone. 

He knew that your mother had just been diagnosed with cancer and that your time was vastly being taken up by transporting her from place to place when you could. Mick would always offer to help, but you didn’t want him to get involved in your family drama… Well, with your father. 

“I think you’re going to do great things tomorrow, Mickey.” You smiled widely as you went to reach for something in the cupboard above you. The two of you were at his hotel room as he relaxed after a hard day of training and sim driving. 

“You always say that, Smidge.” Mick peered over his shoulder to you, his eyes half focused on the video game’s loading screen in front of him. 

The sound of dishes breaking quickly pulled him out of his half trance. He was on his feet and over to you as fast as Edward stopped that van crashing into Bella. 

Your hand had been cut by the falling and breaking glass, the blood slowly beginning to pour out of the wound. You were praying you didn’t have to get stitches. 

Mick responded hastily, grabbing the nearest dish towel and wrapping your hand with it. Pressure. Pressure. Pressure. He repeated in the back of his head as he pressed gently to your palm. 

“I could have helped you, Smidge.” Mick broke the silence as you winced at his touch. As he helped you to your feet, he guided your hand under the now streaming water. 

“I’m a big girl, Mickey.” You retorted, clearly aware that you were contradicting yourself as he washed your wound of any passing infections. 

He just hummed in response as he shut the water off and examined your hand. He repeated that he thinks you didn’t need stitches, and that he would return shortly the first aid kit. True to his word, he gestured for you to take a seat on the couch. It was as if he knew exactly what you were thinking too, the way his touch was almost nonexistent because it was so soft as he bandaged your hand. Oddly though, you cowered in pain as he moved your arm to the side. It was an unseemly way of moving it, too as Mick tried to see if the bandage was tight enough on the side of the hand he couldn’t see. 

Mick cocked his head to the side and stared at you with one look: That better not have been because of what I fucking think it is. 

You hesitated being the one to break the looming silence between you two now, but you thought if you didn’t he’d say it aloud - and to have someone else say it aloud was sometimes worse than you admitting it. 

“It’s not what you-“ 

“Show me.” Mick cut you off, his deepening blue eyes piercing the air with every hyperbole you could think of. 

“Mickey, it’s really nothing. You just moved my arm a weird way, I’m okay.” 

“Show. Me. Now.” 

And as you always do what you’re told, you lifted your shirt slightly and before you could even take it off, Mick was stood on his feet and typing something into his phone. He didn’t utter a word to you for the next several minutes, he was just typing furiously on his phone. You had put your shirt back on and remained silent and sat on the hotel’s couch. You knew there was no stopping whatever he was doing. 

“I have to finalize it, but you are to have security now. One guard, or eighteen, I do not care - You are no longer going to be alone.” 

“Mick, I can’t have a security guard. I don’t even want one.” You took a deep breath and exhaled. 

“I do not fucking care! I don’t! I really do not fucking care.” Mick had slammed his phone down on the counter making you flinch. 

Fuck. And as he watched you carefully, you began to sob for only the third time in your entire friendship. Mick cursed himself in all the languages he knew as he approached you with trepidation. Sitting beside you, he began to mutter apology after apology, also in every language he could muster up in that moment. Mumbling again to himself, he grabbed the blanket off of the back of the couch  and wrapped you both in it. You were still crying as you tucked yourself safely into his side. You felt badly for staining his shirt. 

“Ich weiß nicht, was ich tun soll (I don’t know what to do).” You spoke in a whisper as you gripped onto his shirt with dear life. 

And frankly, maybe his way was a bit extreme, but he only had one train of thought as he hummed between the two of you, his arm tightening around you. 

Take you far away from him and bring her home to you, Schumacher. 

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

“I know I tried, I was not stable

Flawed by pride, I miss my sanguine eyes

So hold my hands up, breathe in and breathe out”

As school children, it seemed like the two of you were inseparable. There were weekends where you didn’t see him, of course, but you’d always get to talk on the phone after his karting events. You truly appreciated the way his family opened up their home and arms to you, as well. You really didn’t know how much they knew about your own home life, but it was something to be said that they never invaded your privacy. 

Mick had finished second in his karting race, which wasn’t the result he obviously was vying for, but it was amazing nonetheless. As his family made their way back to the hotel room, he got cleaned up and made his way over to the tiny kitchen. 

“Has she called yet?” Mick’s small voice interrupted his mother’s train of thought. 

“No, baby. But I will let you know when she does; I always do.” Mick’s mother reassured him as he frowned and walked towards the tv area of the hotel room. 

Mick’s mother sighed and watched her son sulk on over to the couch. She knew how much he cared for you, and even as young as he was, she also knew he loved you. He might have not known it was love at the time, but she knew all the signs of it and he exhibited every single one of them. She put away whatever she was working on, and made her way over to the couch. She sat beside her son and grabbed his hand reassuringly. 

“Is there something wrong, Sohn (son)?” 

“She never is this late to call me, Mama…” He quietly uttered. “I think there is something wrong.” 

While his mother pressed for more information he truly didn’t have, he tried his best to vocalize all the things he noticed about you that were not typical. His mother began piecing the tiny bits of information he was giving to her together and all she could was sigh. She couldn’t have fathomed what you were going through at home and maybe Mick didn’t realize the signs as he listed them off for her, but she sure did. Part of her wanted to do something about too, right then and there… But it wasn’t totally her place either. She didn’t know the severity of the situation or if Mick was retelling things as correctly as a young boy could. All she could do was put it in the back of her head and make note of it. 

A few hours later, Mick’s mother entered the room where Mick was relaxing on the full sized bed. He was playing some game on his Gameboy, his tongue slightly hanging out in pure concentration. She cleared her throat and handed him her phone. It took him a second to register what was happening, but as soon as it clicked he put his Gameboy down and grabbed the phone excitedly. Mick’s mother couldn’t help but smile as she left her son to his own devices. 

“Smidge! Finally, you call. I have been waiting all afternoon for you to call!” Mick was energized now as he set up on his bed. He could hear you shuffling around, presumably trying to find a place to sit. 

“I’m sorry I’m late.” 

Now, Mick was around a lot of loud karts and when he’d go to his dad’s races, those were even louder. Was his hearing as bad as it was at his age or were you being abnormally quiet? 

“Smidge? I can barely hear you! You have got to learn to speak up on the phone.” 

Again, you said something but he could barely understand it. He tried to push you to speak louder as he pressed the phone to his ear as closely as he humanely could. 

“Es tut mir… Leid. Ich… verstecke… mich und muss… flüstern… (I’m sorry. I’m hiding and I have to whisper).” You finally sputtered out in broken German. 

Mick’s eyes widened as he finally understood what you were telling him. He didn’t care if you spoke an entirely different language, he would do anything he could to understand you. 

“Vor wem versteckst du dich (Who are you hiding from)?” Mick was fully sat up, his legs dangling off the side of the bed now as he was on alert. It took you another few moments to gain enough bravery to speak. 

“I’m hiding from-“ 

Suddenly, you were cut off by a booming voice. The voice was deep and loud enough that Mick could hear it over the phone. He pulled the phone away from his ear as he tried not to be afraid. The voice on the other line was muddled, but Mick picked up a few things here and there. 

“WHAT DID I TELL YOU ABOUT THE PHONE?” 

“NO, YOU LISTEN TO ME, GIRL!” 

“I’m sorry, dad! I’m sorry, please!” Your voice was frantic as you defended yourself to the best of your ability. 

Mick was rushing now to where his mom sat on that same couch. He gestured for her to put it on speaker and listen too. Mick’s mother’s expression fell as she listened to absolute abuse you were going through and she knew right then and there, it would be something she would have to do something about. 

“Shut up! Shut the fuck up, you stupid little girl!” 

“Daddy, please-“ 

And then the line went dead, with the sound of your phone being crushed - stepped on in brute force. 

Your voice was so tiny as you shrunk into yourself. You had no intention of allowing the Schumacher’s to hear that part of your life. You were deeply worried that they were going to try and intervene now and make matters… worse? You had a million thoughts going a million miles a minute. 

But just as fast as those thoughts raced through your mind, was just as fast as your father stepped the phone. Mick knew you would deny everything, or at least tell him that your father was just exceptionally upset that day. He knew you’d come up with any and every excuse to protect the very man who was supposed to be protecting you. Mick couldn’t comprehend any of it. But he knew he would be there for you to make sure when you were ready, and you let your guilt be washed away… That he would make certain you never hurt again. 

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

“And in the middle of the night, I may watch you go

There'll be no value in the strength of walls that I have grown

There'll be no comfort in the shade of the shadows thrown

You may not trust the promises of the change I'll show

But I'd be yours if you'd be mine”

Mick and the rest of his family were on a short summer break in Australia. He offered for you to join him as he always wants you by his side, but due to your mother’s declining health you had to refuse. Of course he understood, but he was still disappointed. He remembered distinctly you telling him that Australia was one of your favorite places and that you wish you could move there one day. 

And it being summer in Australia, the sun was sweltering and Mick was trying not to get sunburnt as he sat under the tree near the lake where his family was staying. There was an old bench swing attached to the large branches above it. Mick debated the stability of the swing and the branches, but eventually gave in and sat on it. Gently swinging back and forth, he took in the scenery and the sight of the beautiful vast lake in front of him. 

He missed you. And sure he missed all his other friends, but you weren’t just anybody else. He missed you. He pulled his cellphone out of his pocket and searched for your name. Opening up the text message thread between you two, he began to type. 

Smidgen ❤️: Smiiiiiiiidge, i misssssssss you!! 

You were at your mother’s house, trying to spend as much time with her as you could. She was taking a nap in the recliner beside you when you heard your phone ding. 

You: Mickey, you sound drunk. Are you drunk? You know you’re not supposed to text people when you’re inebriated 😅

Mickey 🐭:  Never! But I am not drunk, I just miss you. 

You: Mick, you always miss me. How is Aussie? 

Mickey 🐭: Boring without you.

You: As are most things. I’m sorry I couldn’t join you this year. 

On the other side of the world, Mick sighed as you two continued to text. He loved his family and he loved his off time, but a deep seated part of him that had been growing and growing over so many years worried about you being by yourself. What if something were to happen and he was three continents away from you? What if he couldn’t protect you? You had always tried to reassure him that you could take care of yourself when he would be away, and that typically when you were at your mother’s house, you in fact were left undisturbed. 

He knew this. But he didn’t care for it nonetheless. 

Another two weeks went by on his vacation and as he tried to keep busy with various adventurous activities, the image of your smile and the sound of laughter filled his brain as if it they were always meant to be there, resting neatly in the crevices of his mind. 

There was only about a week and a half left before he got to go back home to Germany. Mick was sprawled out on his bed, listening to some music. Soon, the sound of the doorbell ringing caught his attention. He was the only one currently home, so he annoyingly turned his music off and got up to go see what the fuss was about. Upon opening the door he was stopped in his tracks. He practically had to scoop his jaw off of the floor. 

“Smidge? Do my eyes deceive me?” You shook your head with a grin. 

Mick engulfed you in a tight hug, lifting you off the ground and peppering your face with kisses. He was always very affectionate with you. He brought you inside and gathered his breath back into his lungs. You had a duffel bag and a backpack with you that you managed to set down finally after the long awaited reunion was over. Looking around the house that was clearly lived in, you turned back to your best friend. He was grinning one of the biggest grins you had ever seen on his face while he grabbed two water bottles. Opening yours for you, he handed you the bottle and waited for you to sip it. 

“I cannot believe you are here! I think this is the happiest I have ever been.” 

“I can see that!” You laughed along with him as you took a few more sips of water. You sighed happily as you put the cap back on the bottle. “Is there a place I can put my stuff?” 

Mick nodded with elation as he grabbed your two bags. Gesturing with his head, he motioned for you to go towards his room. You opened the door and saw that the bed was made and it was fairly clean. It was almost as if he knew you would come here. Mick set down the bags and awaited for you to finish your scan of the room. You turned around and didn’t realize how closely he was standing behind you, as you collided with his body. He used his hands to steady you and definitely took the opportunity to bring you into another hug. The smell of his cologne was familiar; safe. You nuzzled into his chest as his arm found solace wrapped around your body. 

He didn’t know why you were here, and he really didn’t care, but he also knew that there was probably a good reason. It had to have been a good reason if you left your mother with her home care nurse, instead of… 

Suddenly, Mick braced for the worst. 

“Mick… Mick, you’re squeezing me too tightly.” You croaked out trying to unravel yourself from him. Immediately, he loosened his grip on you and smiled slightly. 

“Sorry, Smidge. I just missed you a lot.” The two of you made your way to his bed and laid down on it together. 

You easily found your way to the side of him and nestled in comfortably while he rested his head on top of yours. 

“As glad as I am that you are here… Is your mother…?” Mick awkwardly tried to start a conversation. He needed to know one way or the other. 

“She’s alive, Mick. She’s alive.” 

The blond boy sighed a sigh of relief, pulling you even closer to him. He could feel his body relax and his body temperature increase when you would cuddle him. He didn’t respond to you, only hummed in consolation. 

It had happened before in Monaco, the overwhelming feeling that you needed more from him. He didn’t pry further as to why you were there, and maybe that was a big reason as to why you were feeling pulled to him. For once, he didn’t press you to explain yourself or question why you bought a plane ticket all the way to Australia when your mother was as sick as she was. He simply was there to be there, and that meant more to you than anything at that moment. 

You climbed on top of him, your bodies finding their ways around each other. Your legs were on either side of him as you sat on his torso. His hands found your hips, his eyes finding yours. And as glanced down at the boy below you, you wondered to yourself if this was always how it was supposed to be between the two of you. Leaning down and closing the gap between you, you again pressed your lips against his. 

It was more fervent this time though. The catastrophic and carnal need to feel his hands roam your body and his lips claim yours as his overwhelmed your senses as your body melted into his. He was vigilant as he explored your body with his hands, making sure he wasn’t hurting you. You had to take a breath between the multiple shows of endearments between the two of you. His eyes were glued to you as you sat back up on his torso. Peeling your shirt off, you tossed it somewhere. Mick just watched in adoration as you removed your bra as well. He looked at your body on top of his as though you were sculpted by DaVinci himself. And by all accounts, you were.  

You blushed at the attention he was giving you, only to remove yourself from sitting on top of him. He frowned and wondered if he did anything wrong. But before he could begin mentally listing things he could have done wrong, you tugged on his own shirt. He sat up and reached his hands back behind his head. 

“Can I?” You interjected quickly your eyes filled with curiosity.

Mick just smiled and nodded. He let his shirt fall again and waited for you to approach him. You scooted closer to him and took a deep breath in and released. Sure, you had seen him shirtless countless amounts of times, but this was much, much different. You didn’t mind it. 

Your fingers found the hem of his shirt and with a trying motion, you began to pull the shirt over his head. He assisted you a bit, his broad shoulders getting in the way of you being able to pull the shirt completely over his head. Your fingers began to dance down his chest, the circles and trails they were leaving behind was a feeling Mick would never forget. Still sitting up, you climb into his lap and had your legs on either side of him. You wrapped your arms around his neck and gently tugged at the hair on the nape of it. Again, with a hunger and desperation you had never felt before your lips crashed into his and his hands found your hair in a hurried attempt to get as close to you as possible. 

He never wanted to let go of you and the feeling that came with this. He had loved you for so long. And to have you here, in his bed, making it known that maybe… just maybe you loved him too… He didn’t want to wake up tomorrow morning. He didn’t want it to be a dream. 

“Bist du sicher (Are you sure?)” Mick finally breathed out in between sloppy kisses. You gleamed at him, your lips swollen with fervor. Biting your bottom lip, you nodded. “I need words, schätzen. I need you to say-“ 

“Yes. I’m sure, Schumacher.” 

Mick pulled you in again, his lips finding your neck as he peppered it with kisses, sucking ever so prudently as he made his way up and down the soft skin of your neck. 

You didn’t know what would come after this, after everything was said and done… But for now and just for now, you wanted to be his just as much as he wanted to be yours. 

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

current day 

“So love the one you hold

And I will be your goal

To have and to hold

A lover of the light” 

It had to remain to be seen how long Hamilton was going be out of the season. He was going through some personal issues and while you knew Silverstone was going to be your first race, you didn’t expect to have to race before that. And of fucking course your first race is Monaco. You were busy training and preparing for the course, trying your best to keep a strong head on your shoulders. There was so much pressure with you being the first female driver and Monaco being your first official race, that you began to feel nauseous. Finding the nearest bin, you excreted the contents of your stomach into it, grimacing at the bitter taste that came afterwards. 

“Kiddo? Are you right?” Daniel’s thick accent interrupted you washing of your hands. 

“Yeah, fine. I’m just nervous.” You washed your mouth out with the sink water and wiped it on the nearest towel. 

“I get that…” Daniel looked around the paddock as you followed him with your eyes. “Hey, do ya think we can go somewhere private, to chat?” 

You cautiously nodded and led him to your driver’s room, shutting the door behind you. 

“What’s this about, Dan?” 

Daniel awkwardly sat down on the chair and ran a hand through his curls. Making a few tiny popping sounds with his mouth he finally looked at you. 

“Is there, uh, something goin’ on with you and Mick?” 

“What do you mean?” 

Sure, you two weren’t talking as much anymore. And you didn’t think it was that obvious, but you remained stoic trying to gauge where this conversation was headed to. 

“He’s been like, really, weird.” Daniel struggled to get the words out as he scrunched up his face. 

“Uh… I’m sorry that’s he’s been acting funnily, but maybe he’s going through something on his own.” You shrugged your shoulders. 

“Well… I mean… He’s acting like, more, sulky than usual?” Nodding along as the Aussie driver continued to list off reasons as to why and how he was more sulky, you finally stopped him before he said anything else. 

“I’ll talk to him, don’t worry, Dan. I’m sure it’s nothing.” You shot him a smile and waited for him to respond. 

“He loves you, you know. Like, a lot. Like more than the average man has the capacity for love.” You sighed and pinched the bridge of your nose. 

The last time you two had really spoken in person was when you ended up fighting. You knew he loved you. You knew he was in love with you… But he also knew that you try so hard to not allow yourself to be vulnerable like that. And maybe the relationship was physically reciprocated, Mick struggled with the fact that it was not emotionally reciprocated more than anything. You loved him, sure. He was your best friend… But the voice inside your head knew that for your own protection, you shouldn’t be allowed to love anyone… Especially Mick. You didn’t deserve him and he didn’t deserve someone who has made him wait this long for something he so desperately craved. All you could do was reiterate that you’d talk to him and try to get him to be less-sulky. 

The Australian soon left the room and you were alone. Pulling out your phone, you quickly dialed Mick. 

“Schätzen, is that you? Are you okay?” Mick’s tone was immediately serious as he answered the phone. You two were barely talking and now you were calling him. 

“I’m fine, Mickey. I just wanted to know if you wanted to get dinner tonight.” 

“Tonight?” Mick was fumbling with something on the other end. It was odd too that he didn’t immediately accept your dinner invitation. 

“Is tonight not a good night for you?” 

Soon, your heart dropped once again and as it lay wafting in the pit of your stomach, you could feel whatever contents were left in there if any, slowly creeping their way back up your throat. 

“Who is that?” It was a woman’s voice. She was giggling. “Ugh, Mickeyyyy, hang up!!!” 

Mickey. 

No one else called him that except for you, in fact he made it a point to not allow it. That name was reserved for you… So you thought. 

Mick mumbled something to her in French, his hand covering the microphone. 

“Yeah, I could make tonight-“ 

“Nevermind, you’re busy and I don’t want you to give up your evening just for me.” Your tone as surprising as it was to you, was actually quite genuine. You never wanted him to feel like he couldn’t have fun. 

“Smidge, I can-“ 

“No, seriously it’s okay. I’ll see you tomorrow?” Mick continued to move around where he was, the thick accent of her Monegasque-ness peeking through the phone call.  

If your German was terrible, your French was even worse. You sighed to yourself and decided to hang up the phone. He wasn’t paying attention to the conversation and you didn’t want to pay attention anymore. Rubbing your eyes, you grabbed your backpack and headed out of the paddock to your car. 

There was something that had changed so quickly about your surroundings. As you reached for your keys it was if the wind was knocked out from your lungs. You slowly turned around, keys still in your hand. 

How the fuck did he find you here of all places? 

“Hello, daughter. Shall we have it out at your place of… work… Or is there somewhere I can knock some fucking sense into you?” 

You looked around at the parking lot and by every strand of bad luck, it was seemingly empty and you two were the only ones there. You had every intention of shutting it down, right then and there, but you stood frozen in front of the man who was supposed to love you, but instead you spent your entire life picking up the pieces of the mess he made. Some of the pieces were even lost in the trauma of trying to keep your composure long enough to get where you were. Mick was always the one to lend you the broken parts that seemed to fit perfectly, just so you could have the wherewithal to start over again… And again, and again, and again… 

“Did you suddenly go mute? Answer me.” You flinched in response, your back hitting your car behind you. You could just hear him calling you pathetic. You knew he was thinking it. 

“I can drive us to my hotel room. Just… Just don’t make a scene, okay?” 

Your father rolled his eyes as he snatched the car keys from you. With your head hung like you were a little girl in trouble again, you trudged over to the passenger’s side. You placed your backpack in the back seat and waited for your father to drive off and take you hopefully to your hotel room. 

What seemed like a century later, you two were up in your hotel room. You stood on opposite ends of the living space provided. 

“This is quite fancy. How can you afford it?” 

“Formula One pays well, but I know you’re not here to talk about my job.” You were short with him, trying to keep your emotional and mental distance. “Why are you here, dad? I’m very busy and-“ 

He hastily closed the distance between you, grabbing the back of your head, clumps of hair intertwining with his knuckles. Forcing you to look up at him, his glaring and empty eyes matched his unwavering stoicism. He squinted at you, smirking. 

“Pathetic. You’ve always been fucking pathetic.” Releasing your hair, your father smacked you in the face, causing you to be  tossed to the ground, by brute force. He was now circling you like a vulture does a dead zebra. You didn’t dare look up at him. You remained submissive on the floor, making certain that you didn’t shed a tear. 

“Where’s your boyfriend now, huh? Not coming to your fucking rescue this time?” You didn’t answer. 

With a swift kick to your side you fell over on the cold floor and held your ribs in pain. Still, you did not cry.  

“Answer me! I asked you a goddamn question!” 

You opened your eyes to find your father towering over you still, sure as hell ready to deliver another kick to your side. 

“He’s out with friends! Out with friends!” You repeated in complete fear. You could hear your father scoff and walk away from where you were. 

You thought that would be the last of it, and as you began to get up there was another kick to your side. This time it was a little lower as you felt the pain radiating up and down your leg. He must’ve hit your thigh or something. 

You were breathing heavily, doing all you could not to cry. After he got a good look at you, he threw your phone down at your feet. He surely shattered your screen. And fuck if it if he didn’t know what he was doing, because he did in fact kick in places you could cover up. And even so, you the blow to your face wasn’t hard enough to leave a lasting mark. Just one for the time being. Fuck. 

Soon enough, you could hear the hotel room slam. You were sure you were going to get complaints from other hotel goers, because it ended up shaking the walls. With every bit of strength you had, you reached for your phone. The screen was indeed cracked, but still usable. You knew that Mick was out and occupied… Your heart cried hoping that where he was, he’d hear you and come… But you also didn’t want to bother him… You leaned up against the wall, your breathing shallow. Looking at the phone screen you dialed the only other person you could think of. 

On the third ring, they answered and you resented how happy they sounded. 

“Oi! Can’t get enough of me, huh?” Daniel’s accent poked through the phone as you tried to gain enough composure. 

You were afraid of him seeing you like this, because you were one hundred percent sure he had no idea what abuse you’ve gone through your entire life. It was strictly need to know between you and the Schumacher’s. Releasing the pent up air in your lungs finally, you stuttered out his name. 

“Wait, wait, what happened?” Daniel’s tone of voice suddenly changed as you repeated as best as you could the turn of events. You could hear him grabbing his car keys and leaving his apartment. 

“I’m sorry, Dan. I’m so sorry… I’m sorry…” You were incessantly repeating, your sobbing growing louder and louder. He was trying his best to reassure you through the phone. He instructed through his own panic to stay on the phone with him until he got to you. 

You obeyed as you always did. 

You weren’t sure how much time had passed, but you heard a knock on the hotel door that scared you half to death. Maybe it was your father coming back to finish what he started. 

“Hey, it’s Dan. Can you let me in or are you…” Daniel’s voice trailed off into hopelessness. He didn’t want to imagine to you were so hurt you couldn’t even answer the door. 

Groaning loudly, holding your side trying to support every weary step you took towards the door, finally you managed to turn the handle enough where Daniel could just push it open. You stumbled backwards as you had to find somewhere to lean up against. 

Daniel’s brown eyes were immediately scanning every inch of your body, trying to decode your physical state. You were keeled over the tiny kitchen counter provided. Your shoulders rose and fell far too slowly for anybody’s liking. He saw how swollen and red your cheek had become and there was an emotion begin to bubble in his stomach and protrude through his chest that he rarely ever felt. His kind hand reached out to rub your back, being so careful that he didn’t hurt you. Daniel helped you over to the couch and sat you down. He didn’t dare say words but he knew you would tell him when you were ready. 

“He found me at the track… Took my keys and made me tell him where my hotel was…” 

Daniel nodded cautiously along, his eyes painstakingly wide as he did his best to take in the information. 

“I didn’t have a choice… I didn’t want… Fuck…” 

“Hey, it’s… Take your time.” Daniel wanted to say that it was okay, but clearly… it was definitely not. You took another deep breath. 

“He just came out of nowhere and grabbed me by my hair, and started yelling at me…. Then slapped me or something… And i fell to the ground…” 

Daniel gulped in absolute horror as he did his best to try and keep composure, clenching his jaw so hard he thought he might break a tooth. 

“He kicked me in my ribs and in my right leg… I think… I can’t even… Remember…. Then he threw my phone at my feet and left…” 

The Aussie boy next to you licked his lips in anxiety and you could see out of the corner of your eye how hard he was gripping the sofa beneath him. A familiar sight to you, as he white knuckled the cloth. Now, it was his turn to take a deep breath. 

“Listen, this not your fault and I don’t want you to ever think that it is, alright?” You nodded to his words, unable to make eye contact out of shame and guilt. “I’m going to get some ice, right? It’s just down the hallway. I’m going to take the room key so you can stay here with the door locked.” 

Daniel did one more visual pass over you as you slumped to the side of the couch. You were exhausted on all fronts. You knew though you couldn’t fall asleep, in case you had a concussion too. He left the room shortly and as he ventured down to where the ice machine was he was furiously dialing Mick. But to no avail, he wasn’t answering his phone. 

DannyRic to MickSchu: Mick!!! Mate!!! Pick up the phone or like, come to the hotel!! She’s in a bad way, mate. And fuck, there’s only so much I can do. 

DannyRic to MickSchu: I’m going to murder you mate, please pick up the phone! 

Daniel shot off a few more panicked texts after those before he reached the ice machine. He figured you wouldn’t want him texting any other person either. All he could do was wait. He filled the ice bucket and practically sprinted back to your hotel room. Opening the door with the key, he announced himself so as not to scare or startle. You lifted your head and watched him get a towel to wrap the ice in so it wouldn’t burn your skin. Your eyelids felt heavy and your body broken. 

If you died tonight, that would be better than anything to follow. 

Daniel stuck around for a few more hours, keeping you company as he made sure you got something to eat and drank water as best as you could. He tried to also convince you to tell Toto that you couldn’t race tomorrow in free practice… But that was immediately shut down by you. Daniel didn’t want to fight that battle when there were other matters to attend to. 

You could see that it was now dark out, and you had to go to sleep at some point. Sighing to yourself, you turned towards the very tired Aussie. 

“I need to shower, Dan… Could you maybe, help me get, in there?” 

The Australian’s brown eyes widened so much they encompassed his entire face. 

“I, uh… Yeah, I can, uh, do that for you.” Daniel stuttered out as he rose to his feet. 

Reaching out a hand towards you, he helped you up and over to the bathroom. He was going to kill Mick for not answering his phone. And Mick was going to kill Daniel for seeing you naked. But what other choices were there? The two of you made it into the bathroom and he motioned for you to sit on the toilet seat. 

“Can you raise your arms up at all? I don’t want to have to cut your shirt.” Daniel chuckled nervously. You only nodded with a smile, lifting your arms as far as you could. 

“Fuck… I forgot… Fuck…” You cowered in pain as you held your left side. “Okay, I can do it. Just, uh, if you need to stretch out the shirt to get it over my head. I don’t mind.” 

He complied with his famous smile and soon your shirt was off and to the side. He could see the forming bruise on your rib cage and couldn’t imagine how much pain you were in internally. He kept his thoughts to himself as he helped you step out of your jeans. Down to your underwear and bra, the tall Aussie just stood there. 

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” You joked. throwing a wink at him. You might as well break the tension with a joke. “But, I really think I got it from here. Thank you so much, Dan.” You placed a kiss on his cheek and as he made his way out of the bathroom, he could hear you singing to yourself before the sound of the water escaping the shower head covered your voice. 

He once again took his phone out and finally saw that he had a lot of missed messages from Mick. 

(14) Missed Calls from: Mick Schumacher 

(29) Text Messages from: Mick Schumacher 

Daniel looked through all the texts as fast as he could, but the only watch catching his eye that his friend would be over soon… And that was… About twenty minutes ago… Which means… 

“Smidge! Smidge! Let me in, it’s Mick! Let me in, or I swear-“ 

Daniel opened the hotel door and immediately was greeted by a very distraught man. He let Mick in, and let Mick scour the hotel space like a bloodhound looking for a missing person. Mick stopped short of the shut bathroom door, as he could hear the water running. 

“What happed, Daniel? Fuck! I should’ve been here, fuck, fuck, fucking fuck!” Mick didn’t allow enough time for Daniel to answer before he was practically foaming at the mouth with rage. If it weren’t a hotel room - your hotel room, Daniel was 99% Mick would’ve started to punch the walls. 

“Mate, mate, calm down. I can’t talk to you when you’re like, all mad.” 

“She even asked me to come out to dinner tonight, and if I just had fucking said yes - God fucking dammit!” Mick didn’t know what to do with his body with the amount of pure, unadulterated fury riddled his body. “I’m so fucking stupid! Ich bin so ein Idiot (I’m such an idiot)!”

 

Mick continued to yell in German. Daniel could barely speak proper English, so he had no idea what he was saying. The rant was cut off though by the sound of the shower turning off in the distance. Mick took one deep breath and breathed out through his nose. 

“Thank you, Daniel… For being there for her.” 

Daniel put a supportive hand on his shoulder. Giving it a good squeeze, the two boys said goodbye to each other. Mick made Daniel promised not to tell a soul. And for the first time in his life, Daniel knew he was going to take this promise to the grave. 

Mick gained some more self control and pushed the bedroom door open slightly. Giving it a small knock, his voice immediately made you perk up where you were. 

“Kann ich den Raum betreten (Can I enter the room)?” 

Still wrapped in a towel, you slowly made your way to the ajar door. 

“Bist du anständig (Are you decent)?”

“No, but come in anyway, please.” 

Mick opened the door further and saw that you were sat on the edge of the bed. The towel hugged you tightly, but he noticed you were gripping it as if it were going to fly away from your body. He rushed to your side and took you into his arms. He could tell you had been crying despite the shower. He didn’t even notice the tiny bruise forming on your face before immersing you into his embrace. Shortly after some time spent in his arms, you peeled away and finally made eye contact. 

Mick’s hand went to your bruised cheek, his thumb just above hovering the swelled skin. Your dad had never hit you in your face before, he always was so careful. Mick couldn’t help but stifle back some tears, his previous selfishness clouding his racing thoughts. 

“I need help getting dressed for bed, Mick.” 

He knew what that meant. He knew exactly what that meant, in fact. But without another word, he kissed your forehead and got up to go over to your suitcase. He took out some underwear and a t shirt. Carefully, he helped you step into your underwear, looking away when you needed to adjust the elastic. The air caught in your chest again as you tried to calm yourself. Mick hummed comfortingly and allowed you to take all the time you needed. Your hand was shaking as you began to take off the towel. You didn’t care about him seeing your chest, no. He’s already seen it. You were not wanting him to see how bruised your torso was and how big of a bruise there was on your thigh. But you had to, and so you did. 

Mick couldn’t find the words. He looked down at your bruising body, his lips beginning to tremble. He was shaking his head unable to believe that because of his own stupidity, your body was again bruised and broken. 

He helped you put a short on and helped you climb into bed. You just wanted to sleep and dream about a better day tomorrow. Mick made sure you were comfortable before going to turn off all the lights and making sure the hotel door was locked and dead-bolted. He made his way back to you and crawled into the bed with you. Your body was too sore to move around much, so Mick just went where you needed him to be. Soon after you tucked underneath his arm, he could hear you steadily breathing, the warmth and security of his body making you for the first time today feel human again. 

“I’m so sorry, Schätzen. I’m so sorry that I wasn’t here…” Mick whispered into the air, not knowing if you were asleep or not. He knew he wasn’t going to get much sleep either. He wanted to stay awake as long as possible just in case your father decided to come back. 

“It’s fine, Mickey… Let’s just… Go to sleep…” Your voice was filled with fatigue as you began to doze off into unconsciousness. Mick pulled you closer into his body. 

The emotionally sapped German boy who you adored so much was laid there contemplating whether or not he deserved to be there beside you. If anything, Daniel would be the one that deserves this spot. He was there… He came when you called… He was everything Mick promised to be for you, but in failing to do so, Mick just stared at the ceiling frozen in regret. He could feel some tears falling down his face, wiping them quickly with his free hand. Mick took a deep breath once more and suddenly, his mind was made up. He had one goal in life now. He didn’t care about race car driving, or sponsorships… Hell, he didn’t even care about anything else at this point. Mick Schumacher vowed to himself that he would never allow anything else to happen to you from then on and out until the day he died. He knew it, you probably knew it even as you slept on his chest… There was one goal he had now. 

Mick Schumacher was going to find your father and make him pay. 

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TL;DR: This chapter depicts phases of reader's life as she navigates hiding the abuse she suffers from her best friend. He finds out and he vows to never allow her to be hurt again. There are emotional and romantic boundaries crossed in this chapter too, but nothing too explicit - Just the allusion to reader and Mick having sex. The last part is written for the current day. Reader's abusive father finds her after training and again physically abuses her. Daniel Ricciardo comes to her rescue as they both await Mick to arrive.

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https://www.helpguide.org/find-help

https://nomoredirectory.org/

https://victimconnect.org/resources/national-hotlines/

https://www.domesticshelters.org/resources/national-global-organizations/international-organizations

https://www.therapyroute.com/article/helplines-suicide-hotlines-and-crisis-lines-from-around-the-world

These are some helpful links I found while searching the internet. Please do not hesitate to reach out for help for yourself or anyone you may know is involved in a violent and abusive situation.

[honeybunniii333]

Was asked for Bedwarry angst by a friend! And I realized I've never written for them, so :P

Sorry it took literally 2 months. My lore has gotten so crazy lately.)

TW: FOR MENTIONED PET DEATH! (It's not in detail by any means. But the story is centered around Barry losing an animal. So if that's sensitive for you, I'd recommend not reading any further.)

"Blue?.." Ed's voice called out from the sliding glass door. It was soft, gentle... like he was afraid Barry would shatter if he spoke any louder. He wasn't sure why his first insinct upon finding Lily had been to call Ed... and not bury her. Maybe because he knew he couldn't do it by himself?... or at all. Ed had buried Mavis, and Emmie and Figaro... and clover, after all. Barry had simply stood there and watched him do it. He didn't even have it in him to bury them. Another way he failed those poor babies.

Ed had found his way to where Barry was hiding. Tucked against a tree staring into the window of the little house he kept the animals in. It was a shed he's fixed up, with a little fenced-in area to play outside in... painted bright colors that right now felt mocking. Ed's face was downcast, eyes somber and eyebrows furrowed with sorrow. He knelt down beside him and reached out to brush hair out of the other boys face. "Hey.. look at me...please?"

It took more effort than it should have to force his eyes up to meet those of his best friend. "There we go." Ed forced a smile, but it was twinged with a sadness they'd both grown pretty used to. That was the downside of this... the loss it came with.

"I'm sorry..." he managed to choke out, leaning forward to rest his head on the taller teens' shoulder. Edward was quick to wrap his arms around him. "And why in the world are ya sorry?" He whispered, rubbing his thumb over the stitching at the hem of his best friends shirt. Always fidgeting with something, it almost made Barry laugh... almost. "For making you do this every time... I know you hate it just as much as I do, and I sti-"

"That's my job, man." He laughed, pushing the shorter boy back a bit so that he could look over his friend, who was now looking very puzzled. Though that was nothing new, Edward Quinton was an enigma, and Barry was positive regardless of the length of their friendship. Edward was never EVER going to stop confusing him. "What do you mean your job?"

"I'm your best friend Barry, I do what you can't do for yourself." And maybe Barry preferred it that way... after all, what was Eddie if not confusing? "You're such a dork.."

"Hey, that says more about you than it does me! You're the one who keeps me around Bluebell." He huffed, shoving the other back with much less force than he normally would and getting quickly to his feet. "Now, where's the shovel at? Let's get this done so we can have a nice memorial and go watch a movie."

"Garage." And off Ed was, grabbing the shovel from the garage and beginning a task he'd grown somewhat used to over the years. Adding another tiny grave to the little cemetery. It wasn't a large cemetery, and Barry prided himself on that. He was able to patch up and nurse most animals back to health. The majority of the pets buried there had simply passed of old age or terminal illness... but a few of them hadn't, and that fact would never bother him. But Ed was there, and Ed always made things a little easier. Picking up the slack and helping with the heaviness of it all. Before he even knew it, they were both standing in front of a tiny little grave. Ed wrapped his arm around him, and they both gave their best wishes to little Lily before once again, making the somber walk back up to the back door and on inside.

Barry could still recall first meeting Ed. It was hard to forget, of course. Considering it had changed his whole life. Barry had always been alone, his parents were always gone, his older brother ignored him the majority of the time, and he wasn't very good at making friends. And he had been content with that, and then he'd been smacked upside the head with a soccer ball, and after that, he'd never been alone again. 2 years old onward, they'd been attached at the hip. And here they were 16 years and counting still spending most weekends like this. Huddled up together on Barry's couch, binging old horror movies with graphics that looked more like a highschoolers experimental art piece than certified animation. And maybe Barry preferred it that way,

[scary-lasagna]

Can we get some lore/headcannons for the slender brothers' dads?

tw: lots of various death causes, bar mention,

The Slender Fathers

Slender

Mother was cursed to be unloved by any romantic partner after disobeying her own mother and running off with Slender’s father.

She was not about to sit pretty in an arranged marriage, especially when she met the love of her life a week before.

She ran off with him, denouncing her family in front of all of the rich and entitled Slenderbeing familes, most of which were dead now.

And her mother hated her in that moment, that she cursed her and the rest of her lineage. It wasn’t until the damage hit that she realized how badly she fucked her future bloodline

Mother didn’t think anything of it, everything seemed to be going good after all, but in the end, shortly after Slender learned to walk, he never returned home.

He was murdered, killed, and butchered by a henchmen’s of HABIT, which back then HABIT was practically non-existent. No one knew of his presence in the Underrealm.

And to this day, everyone still blames the cold case on Zalgo’s bloodline because of that fact.

Offender

Then, along came Offenders father. A third siren, a quarter Slenderbeing. He was a charming yet dangerous womanizer.

With the loss of a husband, Mother was left vulnerable to the city life, attempting to find work with no income and penny’s squealing from being pinched too hard.

He worked at a train yard. With Slenderbeing strength, he was capable of many things regarding strength and climbing.

Mother met him through a nearby restaurant, where he was out to lunch with friends.

They ultimately fell in love slowly over time, and had Offender.

But the womanizer instinct never left him, and it ruined his life in the end. He died from a dangerous STI living in arachnid-beings.

Offender was about 12, and heard the last words his father spoke.

He died with roses in hand.

Trender

Trender’s father was terribly awkward and out of touch, and yet somehow she found him charming by it. Especially since he was part Slenderbeing, with the other half containing a recessive invisibility gene from a demonic father.

And they really met through a babysitter for her two growing boys. He was the girls uncle, and was stressing to help her buy cold medicine while she stayed at Mothers house to watch over the two children.

They talked in line, and the coincidence was so natural, Mother couldn’t help but feel charmed by it all, like it was straight out of a romance book.

Trender was born not too long after that, and they were proud to raise such an intelligent child.

She begged him not to go on a family visit for the week. It was something so simple, and he promised to stay in consistent contact.

Everything was fine, but the last day there was no good morning call. A deadly house fire smothered the news that day.

Splendor

Splendors father was the only human out of the four.

Mother had lost the only stable job she had, forcing to take time off to watch her own kids.

She crawled from bar to bar, hoping something would make her forget, and in the rain, she met the kindest human.

He held that umbrella over her, and asked if she was alright, and if someone was on the way to pick her up.

He helped her get home, where a teenage Slender was waiting in the overhang for her, arms crossed.

He knew this would be the next one to perish.

But Mother thought different, maybe if this one was human, she could have a stable family again.

But humans are quite the weak creatures, and he died of illness only about two years after Splendor was born.

[cheegu3]

Hello could you please do a treasure mafia reaction to their s/o finding out they're mafia? I love your works so much and they always make my day better thank you!

hi, thank u so much <3 c:

tw / trigger warning: yandere themes, mafia, mentions of murder n torture, stalking, manipulation, gaslighting

Treasure reaction to their s/o finding out they're in the mafia

Hyunsuk

He'd be extremely surprised. The view of you as an innocent, helpless angel would be immediately shattered. You - his darling was smart enough to figure something like that out? That sounded ridiculous.

Hyunsuk wasn't sure if he liked it because of the view of a naive person he had of you in his head. But what was worst of all was that you didn't react the way he thought you would, you didn't feel disgusted or super surprised; you only asked him to quit, a stoic look on your face.

If he refused to quit you would try to be brave and join the mafia too, just to prove to him that you were on the same level as him - if not even more powerful, as you'd do anything to climb your way up.

Of course that wouldn't happen though. He would never let you join it.

'' But why do you need to? I don't understand that! '' you shouted.

He was getting heated, face red which was mirroring your own as you fought for your lives to stand your grounds.

'' Because I can! I'm not at all who you think I am, y/n. '' he screamed back, with an equal amount of passion burning in his brown eyes.

Your boyfriend finally sighed. In his mind you were acting like a child and this wasn't going to be settled any time soon, but he'd be sure to try and pull the strings behind the scenes - just so he could win this argument in the long run, and get you to become exactly the way he wanted again.

Jihoon

He was enraged. Both with you for snooping around and himself; in a way he felt humiliated that while manipulating you he had forgotten to hide such a crucial thing, basically out in the open for you to find. It felt like a direct blow to his ego.

But now that the cat was out of the bag and you knew for sure he had been playing you like a puppet all throughout your relationship, putting on a sweet fake persona to make you fall for him - then there was no point in defending his actions or keeping the act up anymore.

It was a relief in a way, a blessing in disguise. Jihoon would however have to deal with the fact that you'd now try to leave him. Since the sweet boyfriend you knew was gone, it had all been an illusion. He knew he'd have to try extra hard to manipulate you into accepting this version of him too - but he does like a challenge after all.

'' I only joined it to protect you. ''

You ignored his words, rolling your eyes in his direction so he'd see it. He was fuming on the inside, wanting to do nothing but go up to you and put you in your place. Unfortunately he had more self-control than you thought. So he settled on only showing a sour smile.

'' I don't kill people. '' Jihoon was going to try something else if his sweet words didn't trick you.

You raised your eyes to look at him, a curious look on your face. Then, he knew that the game had started again.

Yoshi

It didn't matter to him and it wouldn't make a difference. You already knew he was a lovesick psycho when it came to you, so him being in the mafia shouldn't be a surprise at all.

Maybe a part of you felt a bit disappointed. The part that believed in Yoshi and believed he would one day become sane, letting you leave if you wanted to. You told yourself that he wasn't an evil person. He just wanted to be loved and love the only way he knew.

Finding out he was in the mafia by overhearing his guest talk to his workers was like a slap in the face. It was incredibly hard to accept, and it would be equally hard to pretend you hadn't found something out when your boyfriend called you in.

He was sitting by his desk when you stepped into his office. You hid your clasped hands behind your back so he wouldn't see them shaking, but his sharp eyes still noticed something was off.

'' Come here. ''

You obliged, coming over to sit in his lap. His hand came up to brush some strands of hair from your face. The soft touch was a stark contrast to his stern gaze.

'' Now, tell me what's wrong. '' he demanded.

You released a shaky breath and shook your head.

'' Really? '' he scoffed, ticking his tongue in annoyance. '' I thought you knew better by now. I guess you wanna do this the hard way then. ''

Junkyu

He was terrified. Having worked so hard to keep this a secret from you was for a reason. This would mean you would hate him, and be scared of him.

It was one of his biggest nightmares. Even if he hated that part of himself, all he ever wanted was for you to see him the way he wished he was.

Gone were the sweet moments you'd gush over each other; him being able to freely express that pent up love he had to keep to himself until he finally made you fall for him - and you swooning over who you thought was the sweetest boy in the world. You'd always felt very lucky to have him, and even your friends were extremely jealous of you.

'' I'm leaving now babe, I will be back in about two hours so you can go to bed without me. '' your boyfriend mumbled while placing a soft kiss to your temple.

You glanced at the clock, eyebrows knitting at the numbers showing, - 02:25. It was very late, what could he possibly have to do at this time?

Your gut feeling was telling you something was off, so you decided to follow him discreetly. Luck was thankfully on your side as visibility was low, slight fog mixed with pouring rain made Junkyu's driver focus his attention forwards; not noticing the dimmed lights of the dark car behind them.

After about twenty minutes of driving on an off-road path that had very little traffic, the car came to a stop at a worn down building to the side of the road.

You stopped a few hundred meters behind, hidden tactfully in the bushes. It was the perfect place to hide. With the car to your left you crouched and peeked.

Junkyu stepped out of the veichile and approached a man you hadn't noticed before.

In the blink of an eye, you watched in horror as your boyfriend plunged a knife deep into the mysterious man. An uncontrollable gasp escaped you while the man slumped to the ground, groaning in pain.

Junkyu's eyes immediately darted towards your direction, because you had accidentally made a loud noise that drew attention towards you.

Now, it was your boyfriend's turn to be horrified, his face grew pale as he stepped towards you and you met eyes with him.

'' Baby? What are you doing here? '' he asked in a small voice.

Jaehyuk

He was very angry with you for being nosy and would punish you severely for it.

The point wasn't that you found out, he couldn't really care less about that since you were already terrified of him - but you broke a rule of his, which is why you now must face the consequences.

Going behind his back was a sign of you not respecting him, something Jaehyuk valued very much. Besides, you had lied when he spotted you leaving his office.

'' What were you doing in there? ''

You had a hard time looking at him. Your boyfriend had caught you red-handed and now you probably looked like a deer in headlights.

'' I was just, uh- cleaning. '' you hurried to blurt out.

But he didn't believe it for one second.

'' You just couldn't help yourself, could you? '' Jaehyuk growled into your ear.

You could only whimper as you felt the cold knife sink excruciatingly slow into your skin, painting your thigh with warm scarlet. He didn't like when you made too much noise, so you bit down into your lip until you could taste metal.

'' Answer me. '' he demanded.

'' I-I'm sorry. ''

Asahi

As long as you wouldn't make a big deal out of it - either by causing problems or annoying him with arguments, then he was fine with it.

He had never really bothered to pretend to be someone he was not. You had always seen all sides of him, good and bad.

However, if you decided to disobey then you'd be locked up promptly. He would refuse to see you, even after long hours of work. Not until you'd apologise and promise to behave.

With enough stress that the mafia brought him, the last thing Asahi needed was to get annoyed by the person he loved most. Even though he felt embarrassed to admit it; what he craved was for you to greet him lovingly after those days and pamper him for the rest of the evening - peppering kisses while his sleepiness took over, tangled up on the couch together.

'' I wish you wouldn't act like this. '' Asahi said to himself as he tightened the ropes around your wrists.

His voice had a twinge of sadness in it, and maybe disappointment too. But you refused to feel guilty and let him manipulate you into doing so.

'' Fuck you. '' you spat out through clenched teeth.

He sighed.

'' After this you will be changed. Because - it will break you. '' a small smile crept up on his lips.

Doyoung

He felt extremely panicked. You stopped answering his calls and texts after confronting him about messages you had seen on his phone.

They were between him and his body guard, discussing illegal things in a cryptic manner that made you immediately realise that he was doing something shady.

When you shoved the phone with the incriminating texts in his face, he became quiet. You went on a minutes long tirade, screaming with tears in your eyes. But he was still unresponsive, he also had tears in his eyes and was almost hyperventilating as he watched you anxiously.

'' Are you seriously trying to play the victim now and not respond to me? Fine, I'll fuck off. '' you huffed and walked out, slamming the door behind you.

The sound of the door reverberating in the silence made him snap out of his trance and he immediately picked up his phone. Frantic texts were sent to your phone that went ignored.

The next fifteen minutes Doyoung spent on the couch, staring at the phone he had thrown away in panic and frustration at your radio-silence.

More time passed and by the time the sun was going down he was even more of a panicked mess. He couldn't care less now if you'd get madder at him, but he ordered his men to go out to look for you and bring you home.

Haruto

A mix of pissed off and protective. He feared that his enemies had now figured out your connection to him and was going to use you against him.

Having you be kidnapped, and possibly tortured or killed was one of his biggest fears. He therefor cursed all the Gods above that you just happened to walk outside when one of the biggest mafia bosses was headed to your home.

Of course you had no idea who he was, and being friendly and polite you struck up a conversation with him. While doing so you failed to notice how the eyes of the man in front of you slowly started sparkling.

He must've figured out exactly who you were, and his smile was now genuine despite him being annoyed by you just a second ago.

'' Sorry, sweetheart. As much as I'd love to talk to you right now, I've got business with your boyfriend. '' he winked flirtatiously to you and was about to go up the stairs to the front door when he froze for a moment.

Both of the men staring at each other had been caught off guard. Haruto had just been on his way out to bring you in before the mafia boss would arrive - imagine his surprise and anger when he noticed he had been too late, you standing there blissfully ignorant while the boss smirked at him.

'' What the fuck are you doing outside? '' he barked at you.

Your face fell and you felt your cheeks heat up in embarrassment due to getting scolded in front of a stranger. But you went inside anyway and stayed in your bedroom until he came back in after the meeting, shaking with fury.

Jeongwoo

Quickly takes control of the situation to make sure he could manipulate you into thinking it was a good thing. By the time the conversation was over, you'd be in awe over what a sweet and considerate boyfriend you had who joined the mafia to protect you.

He left out bits on purpose of course. Like how he had even gotten infatuated with you from the beginning was because he was doing a mission and happened to spot you.

If you ever found out about the additional lies, no worries - he'd just do some more manipulation and maybe even gaslighting to make you feel bad.

'' You followed me secretly, just because you thought I was cheating and now...'' he ruffled his hair in frustration.

'' Now you want to play the victim. '' a scoff left his lips which immediately had the effect he wanted to - you lowered your head in embarrassment, knowing he was right.

'' I'm sorry. '' you mumbled.

Junghwan

He wasn't the best at hiding stuff from you, so you'd notice something was going on that he didn't want you to know about pretty quickly.

Whenever he came home late, sometimes with injuries on his face; he'd avoid your questioning and worried gaze, walking right past you while giving tame excuses.

The day when you'd actually find out was getting nearer the busier he got. Since it meant he often got into fights and no matter how good his team were, they couldn't conceal all the cuts and bruises.

'' Please, Junghwan. Can we finally talk about this now? ''

Your pleading eyes looked into his anxious ones. He looked hesitant like always when cornered like this, but then his furrowed brow softened and he heaved a sigh.

'' Okay, just- promise you won't leave me...please. '' he begged, already looking like he was on the verge of tears.

[uwuowotf2waslife]

What if Medic taught the team sex ed because he found out that someone has an STI and the mercs later either follow his advice or completely ignore it + Medic educating reader on safe sex on practice

The reason I came up with this is that I'm really stupid so I got thrush. I'm so fucking embarrassed, I'm a grown ass woman but I somehow did my hygiene incorrectly and I'm itchy down there and it burns to pee. I'm making an appointment with a gynecologist as I write this so I should be fine

Love your writing, acceptance of horny and your chill. Best wishes to you and sorry for shitty English

Dw frend your english is ✨✨✨✨

Also get well soon <3 it happens to the best of us

Tw: Sex mention/STD mention

In this case: Spy (fuckboy) got trush and Medic had a mild stroke when finding out only 3/9 Mercs understand the concept of STDs

Medic: lecturer in the conference room used in ED. Has a small presentation of whats STIs are and how to avoid them.

“Zo az you zhee, thiz are the common STDs you may encounter during ehm…”

“During third base!” Pips Scout.

Visible confusion by all non english speaking members except Spy

“The boy means sex… speak like an adult sout.” Half muffled by a ciggarete.

“Doubt you can get a hard on, frenchman, just 10 secs ago sawbone said you loose your errectIon once you hit 60” scout goes for a low blow

“Your mother never complains, does she.” Spy snakes back for a lower blow.

“SAY IT AGAIN FUCKFACE AND YOULL HAVE A MUFFCABBAGE FOR A HEAD” scout tries to grab his pistol, forgets that he had to surrender it at the lockers for safety.

“SHUT UP BABYMEN! DOCTOR SAYS ITS IMPORTANT “ a russian roar cuts them both raw and leaves them hanging.

A shill sound cuts them all, now Medic using Archimedes claws to get them all to pay attention

“Danke mein Freund “. “Now I know thiz will be embarrassing but you are all very welcome to use the jar in the medbay, well you wish to… touczh third base” A true genious never lets new opportunities for a learning moment to fall.

“So the condom jar?” “Didnt yall ever used that till Spy got Thursh??!” Scout looks dumbfounded

“You dont really use protection when ya are a gentleman, mongrel!” Sniper visibly annoyed and flustered because in his non medical experience a quickie in a van isnt really prime time for proper sex ed usage.

“Snipes Sheep dont count!” Scout goes for the low hanging fruit.

Sniper roses up and looks anywhere for a weapon but decides his chair is prime

Untill he is stopped by heavy and is basically hogtied by a even taller and burlier man

“Next will be in Locker” simple threat but working.

“Dankeshone Fruende… but yes I expect you all to use them. We cant have a czeafire because you all have different sztrains of StDS reaking havoc.”…

“ Never seen you using one tho Sawbones” Again scout being a dumbass.

Soldier now fed up , stands up and salutes

“MEDIC AS AN AMERICAN I HAVE BEEN TAUGHT IN MY AMERICAN EDUCATION WHAT SEXUALY TRANSIMETED DISEASES ARE, BUT THIS HERE BASTARDS HAVE MADE THIS LESSON UNACCEPTABLE. PERMISSION TO STRANGLE SCOUT?”

“NO TALK BABYMAN!”

“What if ye just want yer dick sucked by a bird? Do ye also need a condom?” Demo awoken has to ask the most revelant question in the last hour and a half.

“YOU DO VAT TO BIRDS?” Medic officially snapped.

“Ya know, chicks” scout yells amidst being stangled

“Vat?”

“HE MEANS WOMEN YOU IDIOT” hogtied sniper yells

“JA YOU DUMBKOFF!”

Earie silence from Medic finnaly snapping.

“Do we also have to use it with dudes? Like is it any different?”scout is about to pass out.

Medic defeated

Spy horrified his son is bi ( boomer fainting)

“I mean same same but different so prolly yeah” answers him an amused Engie.

“Mhmmm mmh” Pyro says and leaves the building.

True mercenary chaos ensues with Spy accusing Scout from hiding shit from him while all the others have fights about who did what and why they didnt use a wrapper.

Case in point

They are all idiots.

[noctilu-uca]

THIS IS A CHARACTER STUDY OF FUCKED UP CHARACTERS!!!!!!!!! I DONT CONDONE ANY OF THIS SHIT I JUST THINK THEY ARE A FREAK AND I NEED TO PUT THEM UNDER A MICROSCOPE and also kinda fandomstudy just read ok tw sensitive and triggering topics though

(1,839 word count) I was talking to some fellow fans earlier and they got to the topic of character popularity and socially convenient character designs

Things i had never considered before .

Very IMPORTANT things on a characters perception

So basically what brought it up was a character being brought up, roman. Now I know like only 1 person will know who i'm talking about BUT ! his character is extremely important for the point i'm making. And roman isn't very popular in this fandom, he has some fans, yes. As does every character but he is not nearly as popular as the others. Someone had pointed out that they thought he would be more popular if he had the "pretty boy" archetype design that's been booming in popularity as of recent. which is definitely a good topic to hang onto, but that's not very much the issue here. we will get to that later though.

Roman as a character is traditionally masculine, short buzzed hair, short eyelashes, muscular ect ect all the things you would associate with tradmasc fuckboys. This is very important to the way he behaves and thinks, he very much values masculinity and denounces femininity of any kind if its not from a tradwoman.

Note that everyone i'm going to mention is fucking awful and disgusting please. and this is also horror. topics mentioned can get very uncomfortable stay wary soldiers

Anyway despite roman's traditional masculinity, he is still a very attractive character !! He is considered one of the more attractive ones in canon too. His personality though ? Yeugh....

Hes a "white knight" feminist whose actually a misogynist and active has issues with anger and PHYSICALITY .

Aka everyone thinks hes going to beat his girlfriend one day. He hasn't yet, but there is very much an underlying *when*

Now, this is like whatever ok we expected that its tlc everyones fucked but whhhyyyy does everyone like sibling kisser and sti guy more ??

I mean hey one of these fuckers actively preys on their step sibling, but why is he regarded as one of the better characters ?? (He absolutely is but that's a story for another day)

Thats because of MODERN DAY SOCIAL INTERACTIONS AND STANDINGS !!! That has been my conclusion

During the conversation i saw a lot of people start commenting on roman's main characterization points. Namely how oddly *realistic* he feels. How its hard to conversate and build a character *to* conversate with him. Its hard to, genuinely. its not easy to immerse yourself in his character and enjoy the things being told.

With the others, you can build off their behavior easily. Fall into tropes, make new ones, make your own spin on their set behaviors and motives. Vincent wants his step sibling, build off the step sibling and their fucked relationship. Soren wants power and to ruin his academic rivals reputation, build off his need for power and control and his social killer status. Marcus wants to ignore consequences and stay ignorant about his drug dealing and usage, build off his need for consequences and make him realize. And so forth, there are many different situations, and many different reactions you can pull.

But roman ? He doesn't *need* anything. His only motive is to keep his practically unknown one-off murder hidden. And his behavior doesn't help with his lack of motives. yes, there is the fact he is inherently abusive. the way he keeps his girlfriend, Madeline, under wraps. isolating her, trapping her in only what he finds acceptable and such.

but that's not fixable through him, there is a reason Madeline has her own POV. you need to get *her* out, not him.

This is not me saying his character is bad and unlikable as a specimen, he is extremely well written and his motives are understandably realistic all things considered.

But his behavior is very reminiscent of current time red-pilled conservative young men. Yknow. The ones who go on podcasts to bash women they will never meet ever for being "whores" and not wanting children

I find that Roman's fatal flaw as a character is that he is too similar to people that we actually *know*.

Now, realism in characters is very good !! We of course want characters to feel fleshed out and actually *possible* to be obtained as a real person. But !! The difference between sibling freak Vincent, mind games Soren, OD Marcus, self harm Heathrow... Is that they aren't nearly as common to run into than pro trad conservative Roman

You wont see someone like Soren often. someone who manipulates and blackmails for their own gain. Sure, they exist !! But you have less of a chance of meeting someone like him. He is obtainable, he is someone you *can* know. But hes rare.

Roman? Walk into an average american school and listen around, i'm sure youll see some of his dialogue regurgitated straight from the mouth of a fucked up teen boy

Hes someone you interact with often, even if not directly. So... Why would you gravitate toward that?

Media like this, as realistic as people like to make it, is all supposed to be fantasies rather than realities. So when you bring realities too close, youre going to get some unhappy reports

Of course, people love roman as a character and still like his codings and characterizations, its just that its so much harder to actually favour him. Why would you favour the douchebag you see everyday ? Unreasonable

Instead, people jump to the more "real fantasy" characters like Heathrow. Will you ever meet someone who forces you into dangerous situations and tries to get you killed so he can die right alongside you because of some fucked up meaning of love ? Probably not. But the possibility isn't entirely gone. If you wanted to talk to some fucked up trad red pilled asshole, just go to school at that point why need roman you know ?

Someone said during the conversation that they knew someone like Soren and that they very much disliked Soren because of that experience. So the concept of "attainable" characters has some backing to it. even though people might gravitate to characters similar to oneself, its those who had a negative experience with someone that acts similarly that affects the characters perception.

I think this is an incredibly important aspect to character creation, Think about how your characters comply to the real life people you know and or are aware of, and know how that affects their audience perception. Use it to your advantage, it's very interesting and makes a lot of sense when put into theory. Of course there is an audience for real life people depictions but an overwhelming majority wants fantasy that feels real.

Overall, the looks of a character matter heavily, of course, but not as much as people think. even if Roman fell into the "pretty boy" archetype, most of his audience wouldn't change. yes there would probably be a little bit more in favour of him since... well. pretty. unfortunately that's a truth. but his behavior would still feel increasingly troubling to enjoy or "defend" in a way.

Now I know that this sounds like I'm somewhat advocating for the demolition of these types of characters, but i'm really not. characters like these are crucial to our self perception, fandom spaces, and even morals. lines get drawn in behavioral ideals and sometimes what reached way past the line for you isn't even cutting it for someone else. If these characters did not exist, i feel as though our perception of others would get very skewed. In a way, these characters show and remind us of our actual realities. These things are real, they exist, don't forget that.

if we were to ignore the realities of people like this, we wouldnt get very far in our social progression. Now i know many people dont very much concern themselves with interacting directly to these kinds of thoughts, but ! Think about it. The less aware we are, the less we portray these sorts of things, the less change we see in our enviromental thinking. Its something very commonly experienced, which is why so many varying groups of people fight for their representation. It works both ways.

But luca !!!!! If people dont like characters too closely related to reality, why do people like characters that relate heavily to *their* reality?

Well. Simple. As i said before with the "attainable" characters: people like characters that relate to oneself. Thats generic info, yeah, everyone knows that. But theres a level of reliability thats needed for a character to have as much popularity as they have.

Lets take doppo kannonzaka for example, one of if not the most popular hypmic character. People love him !! Hes relatable in the sense of modern day struggling. People hate their jobs, people hate the current economic state and how its forcing them into keeping jobs that are terrible for them just because theres no other option. But not many people will explore this outwardly.

So...

They do it through characters.

While being rooted in reality, he is *still* a fantasy. He portrays the emotions rarely shown out of private. The thoughts and feelings of average workers, the things they arent allowed to say publicly without fear of repercussion. Theres no harm in liking a character, right?

Thats the main difference i see in this dynamic. The Outlets, and The Plug-ins.

The Outlets are what allow people to express themselves, the "real fantasies"

And The Plug-ins? The things people need to stay conscious about their enviroments, the "realities"

Personally, i think this is something to keep in mind as an audience and as a producer. When interacting with media, i see many people dislike characters that fall into "the plug-ins" category. Simply for the reason that they represent something seen as distasteful to publicity. This feels like the wrong way to go about things. First and most of all, the producer has a right to create what they wish to express in their stories. It is 1. Never okay to harass them for such, and 2. Never okay to interact with such media with a mental blockade preventing you from truly understanding the medias intent.

That last one was mostly in reference to fans that take themes and situations out of context because they find the inherent thought of it "bad". Thus resulting in the bashing of that media without truly knowing what it represents.

Now of course, there are acceptions to these things. And it is perfectly okay to choose what and which media you immerse yourself in based off of your tastes and personal feelings. But thats not what we are here for right now.

But disliking plug-ins for being plug-ins? To me, it seems small minded.

So this is me politely giving my observations up, and asking whoever reads this to think about the way they interact with media.

You dont have to like them, but appreciate your fandom plug-in and reconsider how you see their point in the story and its themes.

[xiracs]

death eater

hufflepuff!yunho / slytherin!fem reader

tw: theres like one swear word in here? some violence

ngl yunho is only mentioned at the beginning & end but whatevr

“hey.. it’s gonna be alright.” yunho tried to comfort you by bringing you into his embrace.

you both had just returned from celebrating the christmas holiday with your families, and were currently sat by the great lake to share stories from over the break.

yunho had such wonderful things to share, what he did with his family, how much presents he got, and he even had a present for you.

you however, it didn’t even feel like christmas at all when you returned home. if anything, it was your worst nightmare.

it was dark and gloomy as soon as you step foot into your house. your mother was out doing who knows what, and your father was seated in the dining room sipping on some firewhisky.

“we have company soon, look presentable.” he said sternly upon hearing the door close behind you, not even sparing you a glance as he read the daily prophet in his seat at the head of the table.

“not even a welcome home?” you mumbled to yourself.

you went to your room and threw your luggage onto your bed, pulling out a ‘presentable’ outfit and changed out of your school robes. just as you finished tidying up your appearance, you heard some commotion downstairs. you could hear your father laugh along with some other voices you didn’t recognize, so you left your room to investigate.

returning to the dining room, there were much more people now seated along the table, but your father wasn’t in his seat at the head.

some people seated on the sides you recognized from photos in the daily prophet, but who you saw in your father’s seat made your skin run cold. his yellow teeth were displayed in an evil smile as his eyes laid upon you.

“ah, come child.” he ushered you over, and you hesitantly walked over with your head hung low.

there you were, standing before of voldemort himself as he examined your face.

“i’m assuming she’s yours?” he looked over to your father, who nodded proudly.

his long, sharp nails brushed through your hair, causing you to flinch.

“she’ll be very useful to us.” the dark lord pulled out his wand, and you looked at him in confusion.

you quickly glanced over to your father, who had no reaction whatsoever. suddenly, voldemort gripped your arm, his claw-like nails digging into your skin and even drawing some blood. you let out a yelp, trying to pull your arm out of his grasp and pry his hand away.

“stop fighting, it’ll only make it worse.” the dark lord smirked, placing his wand upon your forearm, whispering an incantation.

at first nothing happened, but soon pain surged through your body. you let out a scream and fell to your knees, it felt as if every bone was being broken within you.

“please stop!” you pleaded, tears streaming down your face, clawing at voldemort’s hand that held you in place.

you were able to spare a glance at your father as you squirmed and screamed in pain, he was smiling. he was fucking smiling at your pain.

after what felt like hours, the pain dissipated, and voldemort tossed you to the floor.

the death eaters at the table were discussing something you didn’t bother to listen to. you weakly pushed yourself up from the floor and retreated back to your room. you shut the door behind you and leaned against it for support.

you looked down at your arm, a fresh tattoo laid upon your skin in a jet black color. you always feared this day would arrive, from the day your father joined the death eaters. but you didn’t expect it to be like this, for them to brand you like some farm animal.

“I’ll kill them.” yunho growled, just thinking about how they treated you made him furious.

he could feel you shake your head in his chest, your cries diminished into soft sniffles. he pulled you away so he could see your face, eyes red and swollen and your cheeks still glossy from your tears.

yunho cupped your cheeks pulling you in for a quick peck on the lips.

“i’ll stick with you no matter what happens, everything will be okay.” he softly smiled, wiping any leftover tears with his thumbs.

[legoes]

trick !

corrin (unintentionally) helps gregory pull a prank on the animatronics. alternately titled “gregory is an absolute monster of a child”.

this takes place in my au where william wasn’t a killer he was just kinda an eccentric weirdo. glammike is pretty heavily implied & the crying child incident still happened. also i fudged the timeline a bit to make it* make sense.

*it being gregory being michael’s kid.

tw for mentions of child death (evan) and brief descriptions of panic attacks (sorry freddy)

gregory was very proud of how good his makeup looked. his mom had spent hours on it, promising to make it look as realistic as possible and god did his mom deliver. he had nearly given the daytime security guard a heart attack when they had walked up together.

now, he sat silently in the daycare, waiting for his first victim to find him.

sunny would be easy to scare. he cared so much about the safety of the kids, especially gregory since he was usually only around when all the others had gone home.

he could hear sun moving through the play structure, grabbing toys and drawings kids left behind. he continued to sit silently, looking through a window where he could see sun continue cleaning with a sad look on his face. he needed to look dead! really truly dead! like a heartbroken murdered child if he wanted to pull this off.

sun had finally looked up through the window, and gregory was sure the scream he let out could be heard through the entire pizzaplex.

he made sure to rush out as soon as possible, remaining unseen.

chica was easy to scare. hide out in the kitchen and sure enough she would be sneaking in for some pizza. he did not even have to try with her, she just saw his reflection and bolted out of the room as fast as she could, screaming for the others all the way. it was great!

he had stood on the second floor when roxy had spotted him, chica dragging her and yelling about the pizzaplex being haunted. he had managed to escape her, hiding where he knew her sight would not reach. while she did not scream like the others, she was clearly freaked out, clutching onto chica’s hand and pretending like it was for the chicken’s comfort.

next was monty. gregory had assumed monty would be harder to scare. but sure enough, hiding out in monty golf just out of reach seemed to scare the gator. enough for him to let out a series of swears that gregory would have assumed was blocked from the animatronics’ programming. lucky for gregory, monty was bulky, so he did not need to rush out as quickly. after all, he was quite enjoying the gator’s yelling.

freddy was the last and honestly, gregory was feeling guilty. not guilty enough to not prank him, of course, but guilty enough to feel bad about it. freddy was his favorite. he had no idea why, he just was.

he moved into freddy’s green room as quickly and quietly as he could (he was so happy he had managed to find the override codes to get in the door), sitting silently in the room and waiting.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

freddy had honestly thought it was a bit funny how shaken up the others were at first. the thought of the pizzaplex being haunted sounded ridiculous.

and then they described the kid. brown hair, a striped shirt, and a sad face that could rival that of a kicked puppy. and blood. so much blood.

it sounded so much like evan.

freddy told the others that they were probably imagining things (probably more yelling himself than them) but they seemed insistent. after all, they had all seen him.

but freddy was not having it. or rather, did not want to believe it. because if they were right, and it was real, then it was because of him.

he walked to his green room silently, opting to not say hello to corrin for the night. he did not have it in him after listening to the others.

the door opened for him as soon as he got close. the lights turned on, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw a small brunette boy, curled up in a ball, staring sadly up at him.

if he had still breathed, he was sure it would have caught in his throat. if he still had a beating heart, he was sure it would have stopped. he did not want to turn. to face the small child in front of him.

his mind continued to chant i’m sorry, i’m sorry, forgive me, i’m sorry.

“gregory!”

corrin’s voice snapped him out of it. he turned around, surprised to see the security guard in his green room. behind him, he could hear the other animatronics complaining about the mean prank the child was pulling.

gregory. gregory was pranking them.

“apologize to freddy, then go out and apologize to the others.”

the mom voice, the crossed arms, gregory had no choice but to comply, muttering a small apology to the bear animatronic before sluggishly walking out to apologize to the others.

the suffocating feeling had finally stopped when gregory left. it really was like looking at a ghost.

“freddy, i’m so sorry about that, i didn’t realize that was why he wanted me to make him so scary looking.”

“it’s fine.” not really. “he was just trying to have a bit of fun. it’s halloween after all.”

corrin frowned. in life he always knew when michael was lying to him, and it seemed like he could see right through freddy’s lies as well. “look, i don’t mind it you don’t wanna tell me, but i’m here if you need to talk.”

freddy smiled, nodding. “i know.”

[traumasurvivorshelpingsurvivors]

Tw// teen pregnancy scare, light mention of sex

I just need to let this out i feel so alone.

Uhm. I'm horrified. For context, I'm in high school. I have an older boyfriend and we had intercourse twice recently. He was my first. We didn't use protection, he pulled out. I'm not sure why I agreed. It's so stupid. I guess I'm just young and naive. I've been hypesexual my entire life and just needed to feel something.

I'm supposed to get my period tomorrow though it tends to be one or two days late at times. I've been sick, like a cough/virus which has nothing to do anything but now i can't figure out if my symptoms are overlapping with..early pregnancy. Because generally when i cough a lot my gag activates, I've had that problem since covid and the pandemic. So if I throw up i have no proof of what it is. I'm also supposed to be in PMS which would explain the symptoms AGAIN and my paranoia as I get really really emotional at this time. So now i have to suffer and wait out the next few days.... My bf knows and I feel bad for stressing him out. I can't tell anybody else i know irl. Obviously because I'm still at school and plus most people don't even know I'm in a relationship, including my parents. My parents think i haven't even had my first kiss and the thought of the possibility of having to break THESE news to them is terrifying.

(slight tw for a mental breakdown here)

When i was looking at early symptoms i was home alone and i had the worst breakdown I've had in over a year or ever actually. I was screaming inside my room. I stared punching my gut hoping that "it'll" just... go away somehow. I can't have this child. I do not want to. Not now. Not ever, actually. I always said I'll never have kids for so many reasons including generational trauma and my own mental issues. I feel kind of sick today but i felt even more yesterday because the night before that I was at a concert and got really tired, and slightly drunk. So many possibilities and I'm paranoid over the worst one. I feel so fucking stupid. If i find out it's true I don't think I could take it. I'd break apart completely.

hello this is the pregnancy person again. I would like to update. I realized that i cloud be having an anti-placebo (or nocebo) effect from the fear of pregnancy. Because as soon as i read that i felt better physically. And the more i read about the symptoms yesterday the more i "noticed them". Now I'm just hungry because i didn't eat lunch yet. No nausea. And then another thing happened.. I saw blood on my underwear. And now i have no idea if my period is early or if that's early pregnancy bleeding… Of fuck me here we go again. I'm losing my mind and patience…

hey, pregnancy anon here. Got my period. We're good.

Hi anon,

Please know that your concerns about what happened are absolutely valid. It's common to become very health conscious and worry when you rely on the pullout method, especially when you begin to notice signs that you may be pregnant (although it sounds like you aren't, fortunately). This experience highlights the importance of having some kind of protection or contraception during sex, at least so you can have some peace of mind.

I don't know how long you've been with this boyfriend or if either of you have been tested, but because you've had unprotected sex with him, I strongly recommend looking into getting tested for STIs. Even if you aren't showing any symptoms, some STIs can lie dormant in your system and you can also become a carrier (meaning you carry the STI and can transmit it but don't show symptoms). I know you said you're in high school so if you're 18 you may be able to book an appointment with an OBGYN yourself. If you're under 18, your school nurse may have some recommendations.

If anyone else has any comments or suggestions, feel free to add on. Otherwise, I hope I could help, and please let us know if you need anything.

-Bun

[ninelivesastrology]

tw: domestic abuse, racism, DARVO, coercive control, stalking, homicide, rape,

I talk about my abuser and his accomplices because being silent never benefitted me, it benefitted them. It allowed them to literally craft false narratives about me when I tried to be silent and keep to myself. I couldn't move on because multiple people wouldn't let me. He was the one messaging my husband after telling me to leave and my husband already heard the recordings, like my husband hates him for what he did to me and hates him for his own reasons.

Not to mention, I was stalked and antagonized by him and on his behalf during and after the relationship, so the abuse didn't cease. Nope, not when I ended up homeless because of him and everyone else, not when I was pregnant, not when I deleted my social media, not when I had a baby by a different person, nope. Time and time again, he was just coercing people into infiltrating my life and my community so he can punish me for ghosting him and isolate me so I had no choice but to go back, guaranteed death sentence.

How familiar, just use people for what they're good for and discard them. Only difference is that I wasn't paid, oh well. All that money and he was calling me a golddigger to anyone who breathed when he used me as a human ATM for years.

That's just the reality of domestic abuse, like abuse is a community effort. Being DARVO'd was this insane canon event for me because so many people turned on me and then decided to harm me unprovoked.

Everyone hated me for leaving, but what if I returned and he literally killed me? Everyone would then say I provoked him. They still talk crazy about Shanann Watts. You don't win. It's my responsibility to keep record of all of this, it's what they tell you to do. None of it would've happened if he left me alone. I just wanted to be left alone.

On top of that, everything he did was racially motivated. Sick fetishizing fuck. Got a token Black to claim he's innocent. Get his psychologist in training and dead end alcoholic friend who say the N word and make incel references to say I'm crazy and on drugs because I'm not letting him ruin my body and my life. No, he was the one snorting anything snortable 15 minutes before his friends would arrive. He was fucking anything, too. His limp dick was telling. All the testosterone supplements, drugs and illegal material couldn't make him stay hard, but I guess that's my fault. I'm the worst for not settling for a racist walking STI who stays strapped up with a loaded gun and is constantly under the influence of hard drugs and alcohol.

When you don't want to keep a scary man's secrets, you're dead on arrival.

And no, none of this started off this way. I was a frog in a pot slowly coming to a boil. The excuse for buying a firearm was, "Before B*den takes our guns." Same dude got mad at his immigrant mother for voting for Tr*mp just a few years prior. Radicalization is so real. Obviously, B*den hasn't done anything with the 2nd amendment. What a lie. I don't care about people owning guns, it's the kind of people who own guns. He didn't buy a gun safe and was leaving it anywhere for his roommate's daughter to stumble across, safety off and loaded. Sounds like a thing a nice guy would do.

I have this vivid memory of him showing off his loaded gun while drunk in his living room with all of his white friends. The safety was off. It was loaded with the type of bullet caliber (45 ACP) that police had to stop using... because they were killing too many people, the bullet is that large that it tears through people. That's what my husband told me because my husband actually cares about gun safety. Intelligent and sharp is how I like them. I don't like dumb fucks.

People with common sense will know that my abuser wasn't friends with anyone in that room. Even his so called white drunk ass best friend who was drooling over me every time he visited took the gun and pointed it at my friend, later my husband. But you know what, it's my husband that's the problem. Me and my husband stepped outside because we were uncomfortable and felt unsafe. My abuser was a friend to no one.