#v: reliving history

[royaletiquette]

The princess, while theoretically dressed down beyond recognition, held herself with a grace and poise that was inescapable. Though even if she managed to blend into a crowd, the moment she opened her mouth, that posh way of speaking, an accent so ingrained in her home that she couldn't even hear it, gave any disguise she may have away.

Perhaps that's why when she reached for her coin purse to pay for the apparently not-free sample of the pastry she was offered, the small purse was missing. "Oh. . . I'm sorry." The princess stepped back in an attempt to remove herself from the situation, but it was clearly not helping her cause. "I'm sure if you just give me a minute, I can ask around--"

@malafxde

[detritiviolet]

i think if magic WAS real i'd probably be a chronomancer and if someone pissed me off i'd make them unable to age and then send them to 10,000 BC to think about what they did!

[themultifanshipper]

This was supposed to be a silly little blurb about giving Seb a blowjob, I don’t know how it got this out of hand.

Warnings: all of them. All the warnings.

Jk but there is sooo much in this fic. A bit of underage (but over 16), blowjobs, oral, p in v sex, rawdogging, rough sex, possessive Seb, a tad of subspace?, threesomes (if you don't want spoilers on the special guests don't look in the tags), voyeurism, undernegotiated dom/sub dynamics all over the place, infidelity (his IRL wife is included), smidge of angst but it’s really not the point of the fic lmao, mention of drugs and alcohol, I don’t condone anything I’ve written here guys. Although the warnings make it sound worse than it is tbh.

July 2007

I suppose you could say it all started when you were 13 and Sebastian had just been transferred to Toro Rosso.

Obviously nothing happened between you two given that he himself was 20 years old at the time. Although your childish crush on him had started way before that.

No, what happened at 13 was an embarrassing moment that got the ball rolling between you and Seb.

That night he was over at your parents’ house for a celebratory meal, for you, it was your birthday, for Sebastian Vettel, it was the beginning of a long and illustrious career.

Your father and him were good friends, Seb helped a lot with your brother's career in karting and you’d always been around the handsome blonde man. At various karting events with your brother, a gala here and there, and even at a couple of f1 races he had driven for BMW. By this time your crush was well and truly established, and subtlety not being your thing, your family knew all about it. And teased you relentlessly. And apparently now invited your crush to your birthday dinner... great.

Seb and your father were in the kitchen having a drink and helping your mother with the food when you heard your fathers voice drifting through the house.

“Man, think of all the blowies you’re gonna get!”

After a sharp scolding from your mother, the two burst out laughing and that was that. But the damage had been done.

At 13 years old, you had no idea what that meant. So you asked, at dinner, in front of your family, and your crush, what a blowie was.

Yeah, that went down well (pun intended, and note the sarcasm).

Your (15 year old) brother choked on his mouthful and shrieked in laughter, spraying your mother, who then slapped your father who was laughing maniacally beside her. Seb just went incredibly red and grinned “You’ll find out when you’re older, sunshine”

Okay, maybe the nickname should also be explained, after all it is the result of a previous embarrassing moment of your childhood.

It was at a karting track before a race and you were hanging out with your brother, some of his friends, and Seb. Or more accurately, you were following Seb around like a lost puppy. At this point you were 9, your brother 11 and Seb 16.

Someone had heard a dirty joke from the older boys at the track that went something like this:

“What is big, makes no noise, yet wakes us up every morning?”

And with your very innocent, very smart 9 year old brain you replied “the sunshine” which was supposed to be the right answer, but boys will be boys.

16 year old Seb thought that answer was hilarious.

“That is so adorable” he was wheezing “from now on I am calling you sunshine”

You were so embarrassed at not understanding the joke that you ran back to your father and told him about it, and he told the boys off sternly.

So anyway, there you were, a few years later, at dinner with your parents reliving that in your head, and living through yet another mortifying moment in front of Seb, who looked at you sympathetically from across the table, and kept sending you winks all throughout the evening, to try and make you feel better.

That night you looked up “blowie” online (of course a few days later the browser history conversation happened with your mother) and you were never the same again. You couldn’t stop imagining Seb getting blowjobs from all the girls he was indeed going to get, and it gnawed at you. For years. Of course, you knew you were too young for him, but it didn’t stop the fantasies from getting rather... wild.

2010 

You were 16, and Sebastian was about to win his first championship, you were sure of it. You were all in Abu Dhabi to support him (and the others of course) and you found yourself wandering into his drivers’ room just as he was putting his fireproofs on. You had expected his girlfriend Hanna to attend, but luckily for you she was busy, and you were going to make the most of that fact. You ogled his body for a second before he noticed you staring and grinned at you as he put his top on.

“There’s my sunshine!” You jumped into his arms like you’d done so many times before. “I was wondering if I’d get to see you before the race”

‘Of course! I'd consider myself a bad friend if I didn’t come to wish you good luck”

He put you down and dramatically threw himself on the sofa.

“Yeah! I’m going to need it”

“Oh, come on Seb I’m sure you’ll do great” You sat down next to him and put your hand on his knee, squeezing slightly. “If you want... I could give you a good luck present” you slid your hand slowly up his thigh and his leg jolted slightly “If you know what I mean”.

He glanced at your hand before looking back into your eyes, you could tell his mind was racing, obviously going in the right direction. “No, I don’t know what you mean” He gulped as your hand went higher and you batted your eyelashes at him.

“You know, I’m not the innocent kid who didn’t know what a blowie was anymore, I’ve learned a lot since then”.

Seb’s pupils were wide, and you could feel his fireproofs tenting under your hand. “I could show you if you’d like”.

You squeezed his cock over the fabric, and he grabbed your hand “Fuck sunshine, I can’t let you do this, you’re sixteen for fuck’s sake”

“Don’t act like you don’t fuck girls on the daily, Seb” You jumped up off the sofa and into his lap, straddling him.

“Yes, but I’ve known you since you were a baby, and you’re still a minor, Fuck-” Your hand had slithered its way into his fireproofs and was squeezing around him like a vice.

“I’m past the age of consent, Seb, you know that. And I know you’ve thought about it. About me. You’re not as quiet as you think you are when you come round to our house, you know.” You trailed sloppy kisses down his neck and chest, over his fireproofs as your hands got rid of the bottom half.

“Shit, aaah-” He hissed, and his resolve crumbled under your touch. “Fuck”

“Please Seb, please let me suck your cock for good luck” You purred, and he let his hands grip onto your hair as you nosed up the length of his now exposed cock.

He was staring into your eyes, guilt written all over his face as he nibbled nervously on his lip. “Fuck, sunshine what are you doing to me”.

Instead of answering, you took half of him into your mouth and sucked. He cried out and bucked his hips involuntarily, making you choke slightly.

“Shit sorry!” His concern was adorable, but unnecessary.

“Don’t worry Sebby, I trained myself out of a gag reflex, just for you” and before he could say anything else you sank down on him to the base and the noise he let out was inhuman. His head fell back, and his eyes rolled into his skull.

Yeah, you’d definitely been practising. And you were unbelievable.

He did end up winning the race, and the championship. And you grinned at him when he looked down at you from the podium, shaking his head and laughing before almost getting drowned in champagne by Lewis and Jenson.

2011

The next year you showed up in his driver’ room at the Japanese Grand prix, per his request. You knew this was the race that would potentially secure him his second championship win so you strutted in, pushed him onto his little bed in the corner and kissed him senseless as your hands started undressing him immediately.

“Tell me, Seb-” You got his shirt open and trailed kisses down his chest. “Do you think you’re capable of winning the championship on your own this year?” Off went his trousers “Orrrr…” then went his underwear “Would you like a blowie, for good luck?” You grinned at him, mouth hovering inches away from his rapidly hardening cock.

He grinned back at you, slightly breathless. “I think-” he sat up and pulled you in for a quick kiss “you can never say no to a good blowie”. He lay back down, arms behind his head, and that was all you needed to get to work.

He did in fact win the race, and the championship.

You couldn’t make it to Abu Dhabi however, and he got a puncture on the first lap.

 Figures.

2012

You celebrated your 18th birthday with Sebastian, one on one. He took you out to dinner during the summer break. You had finally finished school and were moving on to other things. You had no idea what those things would be, but you were excited none the less. He’d managed to convince Hanna he was on a business trip to meet a sponsor, but you didn’t think for a second that she bought any of it.

Sebastian told you all about the intense race for the Championship, given you weren’t able to attend any of the races before the summer. He had apparently taken to relieving stress by fucking anything that moved, and that included some of the other drivers. You couldn’t help but imagine him being bent over his massage table, reduced to a begging mess by his teammate. Everything Seb told you about Mark got you riled up before dessert had even been served, and you couldn’t help but wonder if that was his goal all along.

When you got back to his hotel, the real birthday celebration started. And it lasted all bloody night.

All the things Seb had thought about doing to you since the very first time you’d asked what a blowie was, he did to you that night. All the tension accumulated over the years finally boiled over, as he brought you over the edge so many times you lost count, with his mouth, his hands, his cock. He was going to ruin you for anyone else.

“Nobody can have you like this, can they?”

“No Seb just you- Fuck!” You panted as he pounded into you from behind, pressing you against the massive hotel windows, facing the city lights.

 It was almost romantic. Almost.

“You think anyone can see you from down there? All those people that don’t know how good you’re being for me.” The thought of being seen made you even wetter and you whined. He only chuckled.

“I’m sure if Mark were walking past, he would love to know what is happening up here. Would you like that? Would you like Webber to watch you come undone on my cock?”

You didn’t even need to answer, you cried out in pure extasy as you came for the umpteenth time that night and then slumped against the cool glass. The only thing holding you up being Seb’s arm around your waist and his other one propping your leg up as he trapped you against the window, grinding into you as he came inside you with a groan.

“Well sunshine, I guess that’s a ‘yes’ then, hmm?” He whispered in your ear before pecking you on the cheek. He lifted you up, carried you to the bed and went to get a cloth to clean you up with.

You giggled when he came back “You know Seb, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re so obsessed with Mark that you want to show me off to him. Is it because you want him to approve of me? Or be jealous? Or do you just want to flaunt your amazing skills in bed that I’m suuure are better than his?” You were obviously just trying to rile him up.

He laughed dryly as he wiped you down but didn’t reply. Perhaps you’d struck a nerve. He didn’t mention Mark for a long time after that.

You couldn’t make the race in COTA, so it was critical for you to be at Interlagos with Seb. You got a plane ticket several days before and gave him a good luck blowjob every single night, for good measure.

He won, of course.

2013

2013 got real weird, real quick.

For starters, you were 19 with no job and no idea what you were going to do with your life, but you spent all your time around older millionaire formula 1 drivers. You were basically an honorary member of the team by now and had a free paddock pass for every race you could attend.

Then, there was the issue of Seb living with his girlfriend, so you couldn’t stay at his place anymore, and in the rare instances where you and Hanna saw each other, the other drivers became exceptionally awkward around the both of you.

The last thing was, Mark didn’t win a single race all season, and Seb was a huge dick about it. He strutted around Mark in the paddock like a peacock. And he took you to every other GP to fuck you in his drivers’ room when he knew Mark could hear you from next door, just to drive him crazy.

It all came to a head in India. The race that secured Seb his fourth consecutive championship.

He was fucking you in his drivers’ room (more like railing the absolute shit out of you) on the long sofa that lined the wall. Face down, ass up, you were being loud, no longer caring about Mark hearing you.

Then, his phone started buzzing, Mark’s name flashed across the screen, along with an unflattering photo.

Seb answered it, put him on speaker and set the phone down next to your head.

“Would you two keep it down, the whole bloody garage can hear you!” Mark hissed.

“Yeah?” Seb answered “Hear that, sunshine? Everyone can hear how good I’m fucking you” His hips kept slapping against yours obscenely.

You moaned and Mark scoffed “Sounds like she’s faking Sebby, I guess those championships must be compensating for something...”

“Why don’t you come in here and say that to my face then Webber” Seb spat before hanging up.

You gasped as he grabbed your hair and pounded into you harder. “Seb! What-”

“You like having an audience, admit it.” He growled “You’d like nothing more than if Webber stormed in here and-”

He hadn’t even finished his sentence before Mark did just that. He was standing at the door, flushed, as if he’d sprinted over.

You turned your head to look at him but before you could say anything, Seb slowed down to a hard grind inside you, making your eyes roll back and you let out a shaky moan.

Mark’s eyes were scanning you and Seb, checking you both out. And obviously enjoying the view if the tent that was forming in his fireproofs was any indication.

From his angle he could see where Seb’s cock was buried inside you, where you were literally dripping down your thighs and onto the sofa and he let out a gasp. “Fuck Seb, she’s so wet”

“I guess she’s not faking then” Seb said smugly, picking up the pace again.

A lack of response from Mark prompted Seb to sigh and beckon him over.

“Don’t just stand there, come sit down, this will take a while”.

“What?” Utterly fucked out, you twisted your upper body to look at him, the confusion on your face matching Mark’s.

Seb smirked at you. “We’re going to play a little game, okay sunshine? I’m going to make you feel good, and Mark is going to watch. But you cannot come until he does, understand?”

Your jaw dropped, and he gave a hard thrust. “Understand, baby?” He repeated and you nodded quickly.

He turned to Mark “Well? You don’t want to be the reason she can't come, do you? Get to work.”

“Shit” Mark looked half murderous, half ridiculously turned on as he slowly lowered his suit and freed himself, starting to work his dry hand up and down his cock slowly and Seb chuckled “Put you hand out”.

Mark did as he was told, confused, and he almost combusted on the spot as you spat on his hand.

“Wow, she’s such a good girl, isn’t she?”

Seb groaned, as if Mark was talking to him. The older man’s presence was finally getting to him.

Mark’s hand inched towards your face, but Seb slapped it away. “No touching, she is mine”.

You tightened around him, about to come when he abruptly pulled out. You whined and squirmed as your orgasm faded, but he just shushed you and turned you over onto your back roughly, almost knocking the wind out of you. “Shhh baby, remember the rules?” He was rubbing your hips soothingly as he spoke “Mark has to come first, I’m not the one you should be begging”.

You turned to the other man.

“Please Mark, please, please come. I need to come so bad, Mark, please, fuck I need it...”  You were almost babbling at this point, and Mark melted.

Sebastian swiftly slid back into you as Mark’s hand picked up the pace on his own cock, glancing at your writhing body and at Seb. You tightened around him as you felt yourself get closer to the edge again. The two men were grunting and looking straight at each other as they moved, almost as if they were trying to get each other off. Their weird power play was tipping back and forth, and you were caught in the middle. Not that you were complaining.

Mark came all over himself and you felt Seb throbbing inside you as he started rubbing your clit to get you off faster, the sight of his teammate was affecting his self-control, and he was getting closer by the second. You came together, and he slumped over you, his legs and arms giving out.

Mark was panting and you looked at each other, having a silent conversation while Seb was recovering. He got up to go and get cleaned up in the small adjacent bathroom.

While he was gone, you stroked up and down Seb’s back and whispered in his ear “You okay, Seb?”

He sniffled into your neck before replying “Yes, I’m just a bit overwhelmed.”  He lifted his head to kiss you before flashing you his signature grin. “I’m a four-time formula 1 world champion!”

The two of you giggled and he dropped his head back down and sighed contentedly, planting lazy kisses on your shoulder.

Mark came out of the bathroom and laughed silently at Sebastian behind his back. You scowled and the two of you argued with your eyes again. ‘Congratulate him you prick!’ Your eyes said.  He rolled his before walking up to your entangled bodies and put a hand on Seb’s shoulder, making the younger man shiver. “Congrats on the title, mate. But there’s a few races left, I could still beat you.”

Seb snorted “Sure, if you say so. Now you can fuck off”.

You smirked at Mark, and he slinked out of the room without another word.

Well needless to say he did not beat Sebastian. And he promptly retired.

 2014

It was a shit year for Redbull, Seb DNF’d in Australia, Monaco, and Austria. He didn’t win a single race, but his new teammate Daniel did, and that was a sore subject. You lost count of the amount of pity blowjobs you gave him that year. He came to visit you often to lift his spirits, but you could always tell the season wasn’t going great, and it was taking a toll on him.

The one good thing to come out of that season was that you travelled around with him a lot, Hanna not being particularly interested in attending races. He was certainly rich enough to pay for your flights and hotels (not that you needed separate rooms most of the time).

You were the first person to know about his transfer to Ferrari. And you were both very excited about it. New team, new start, hopefully new championship wins.

Unbeknownst to you however, Seb had added an extra condition when he negotiated his new contract...

2015

During winter break, just before Christmas, Seb came to see you in at your parents’ house. That’s how you found out that he had gotten you a job at Ferrari, as part of his contract.

You were elated. It meant you would be around each other a lot more, and you could start pulling your own weight, feeling a little guilty that Seb had sort of been your sugar daddy for the past few years, not that he minded of course. And it also meant no more sneaking around and avoiding cameras at races to not alert Hanna to your presence at Seb’s side most of the time, not that it was really a secret anymore, you two weren’t discreet around the other drivers, and the drivers were all fucking each other as well anyway so no one cared.

As tradition dictated, you gave Seb an obligatory blowie to celebrate his Ferrari contract and your new job. And then, your parents being out of town, you had wild passionate nasty sex on every surface, as you wouldn’t be seeing each other for a few months, until the season started.

Needless to say, there would be no Championship win celebration blow job in Abu Dhabi, that year.

2017

It was your 3rd year working on the media team at Ferrari. It was a blast, you were severely overpaid, and you got to spend most of your time with the man you were having intimate relations with. Who could ask for more?

In Silverstone, Seb made a bet with Kimi. They were high (not on adrenaline, just high) and decided to wager on who would finish on top in the race. Kimi got a podium while Seb only got p7, but Kimi not being a man with a huge imagination, he had no idea what favour he wanted. So, it dragged on for months, until one day you were filming a promo video in Singapore with them, and his mind suddenly came up with the answer.

“Her” He pointed at you from across the room. Seb feigned innocence, pretending not to know what Kimi was inferring.

“What about her?” he asked tentatively.

Kimi smirked devilishly. “I want her. For the bet, you know. I want to watch you. To see how disappointing you are in bed”

He was only teasing, but he knew exactly how to get under Seb’s skin. So he agreed, and he asked you, and you agreed. Great. Kimi Räikkönen was going to watch you have sex, no biggie. After all, you’d done it before with Mark, this would be fine.

After a frustrating double DNF, you all went out to karaoke. You didn’t think Kimi was the type, but he showed up to the bar already three sheets to the wind, so you figured he wasn’t really there for the singing anyway.

Kimi was giving you sultry looks all night, which sent shivers down your spine. You’d never considered the man to be the epitome of hotness, but you couldn’t help wondering what it would be like to spend a night with Kimi. Was he passionate? Or was he just as ice cold as always?

You would soon find out as the three of you piled into a taxi back to the hotel, both Seb and Kimi’s wandering hands distracting you from trying to give the driver the address.

On the way, you’d ended up with Seb’s mouth on you neck and Kimi’s hand up your skirt, gently teasing you over the pathetic peace of fabric you called underwear.

By the time you were up into someone’s room, who’s room it was was impossible to say, your senses were engulfed by the two men. Kimi was behind you, trailing his mouth over your neck and shoulders and holding you up, while Seb was on his knees between your legs, one of them hooked over his shoulder, tongue eagerly working itself over your needy pussy as his fingers worked over that special spot deep inside you.

You came like that, then Seb stood back up and asked, “How was that, sunshine?”

You scoffed in disbelief at the question “It was amazing as always, baby. Are you going to fuck me now?”

He raised his eyebrows at Kimi, like ‘disappointing huh? I think not’ then pointed to the chair in the corner to signal to Kimi to sit in it, and led you over to the bed and put you on all fours.

He was halfway through railing you into next week, one hand holding your arms behind your back and the other around your neck, when Kimi piped up from the cuck chair.

“Can I come on her tits?”

Seb paused mid thrust and you whined “What do you think, sunshine? You want him to come all over your pretty tits, baby?”

“Yes, Seb, anything just keep going please!” You begged, but he didn’t move.

“Ah, ah, sunshine, be a good girl and tell Kimi what you want him to do to you”.

You huffed and looked at Kimi, who was observing you with hooded eyes and his mouth slightly open as he pumped his cock leisurely, waiting for an answer.

“Yes Kimi, please come all over my tits, I’ll be a good girl for you”.

The two men groaned in unison, and Seb picked up the pace again. He wasn’t going to last long, and neither were you, so he flipped you over onto your back and slid back into you quickly, beckoning Kimi over. He circled your clit expertly and you both came together fairly quicly, while Kimi watched and pumped his cock furiously, not far off as well.

“Go on then Kimi, give it to me” you gasped, sticking your tongue out for him, and that was it for the Finnish man.

He came in spurts over your chest, face, and mouth as he let out a shaky groan, finishing himself off before finding his pants and leaving with a simple “You two looked good” and winked at you. Truly a man of many words.

You and Seb laughed together, the adrenaline coming down as you both cleaned up and snuggled up under the covers.

“Weirdly, that wasn’t horrible” You giggled, and Seb acquiesced.

“You know, I think I like sharing you.” Seb kissed your temple, and you hummed, sleep almost taking you before he added “How do you feel about David Coulthard?”

You gasped and slapped his shoulder lightly “Oh my god he’s ancient!” and Seb scoffed, offended but let it go, sleep overtaking you both.

But he didn’t forget.

2019

All Sebastian could talk about for months was the eager twink Ferrari had dumped in his lap. So of course you had to have a taste. Or rather...

“My goodness Charles, you have got to taste her”.

Charles looked at you for permission before diving in. Even though he was younger than you, he obviously had experience as he brought you to the edge in no time. He got you wet and shaking before Seb had even finished taking his clothes off. You gasped as the waves of pleasure washed over you and Charles continued his assault on your weeping pussy. Seb only yanked him up by the hair after your second orgasm, and he looked absolutely wrecked. Face covered in your wetness, lips swollen, and eyes completely glazed over. Sebastian leaned in close to speak softly in his ear, making the younger man shiver.

“You want to fuck her Charlie? You want to fill her up properly while I fuck her pretty little mouth?” He said, while maintaining eye contact with you. Charles nodded a bit too enthusiastically and you both laughed at him.

Lucky for you, Charles’ cock was thick, and he stretched you out wonderfully while Sebastian fucked gently into your mouth. You were on your hands and knees, shaking through your 3rd orgasm when Charles finally came inside you, filling you to the brim.

While he cleaned himself up in the hotel bathroom, Seb turned you over onto your back and slipped inside you with ease. He started a maddeningly slow rhythm as he wrapped his arms around you possessively, and you tried to cling onto him, but your arms were useless at this point.

When Charles came back out, Seb didn’t even look at him as he told him he could go, so he didn’t push his luck and scarpered.

“Only I can have you like this” you preened under his touch, his hands gliding over your body, pinching your skin, and then soothing it as you went completely mad underneath him.

“Please Seb” You babbled mindlessly “I’ll be good, please, please just- “. Your eyes closed of their own volition and your head rolled to the side, losing all motor skills as he continued hitting that spot deep inside you. He grabbed your jaw and made you look back at him “You’re mine, aren’t you? Only I can make you beg like this, right sunshine?”

You wailed as you came around him, your final orgasm of the night taking its toll on you, rendering you completely boneless. And you didn’t move at all while he slipped out and got up to get you cleaned up. And you barely registered the bed shifting as settled under the covers with you, holding you gently, like you were the most precious thing in his world.

That year, Seb got married to his childhood sweetheart.

2022

The next time you saw him outside of the paddock was at his retirement party. The whole grid was there, plus his family, his friends, your family, and a bunch of other people. And his wife.

It was a proper retirement bash, and most people were at least tipsy within an hour of their arrival, Seb insisting on everyone getting shit faced to celebrate.

You snuck up to his bedroom and sat on the bed. You sighed longingly, it was surely the last time you would get to do this.

Seb came up a few minutes after you, after making sure someone was occupying Hanna.

He opened you up on his fingers, mouth mapping out your body, as if trying to imprint the feeling of it on his tongue. Once he slid inside you, it took you both an embarrassingly short amount of time to reach your peaks, but you did so together, your foreheads pressed together, breathing in each other’s air, hands scrambling for purchase on each other’s bodies. Then staying wrapped in each other’s arms for far longer than was necessary.

It was bittersweet. The end of an era.

Once you were both decent, you went back down and ensured that only good memories would be had of this party, lighting up the dance floor, lighting up the bar (you made flaming cocktails, which someone *cough*Charles*cough* spilled on the bar), all the while laughing, and crying a bit, with some of Seb’s soon to be ex-fellow drivers.

Epilogue:

It was Suzuka 2023, and you’d been waiting for this moment for months.

Seb’s bee house project was great for the bees and all, but it was even better for you.

The evening of his arrival at the paddock, you were buzzing (pun intended) with excitement.

When you spotted him, you shrieked, scaring a couple of engineers nearby, and ran towards him. It was a bit unprofessional given that you were still very much an FIA employee, but you couldn’t help it, you jumped into his waiting arms, like you’d done so many times before, and squeezed the life out of him.

“Sunshine!” Seb smiled as he lowered you back down.

“Old man!” You said and he rolled his eyes.

“I’m not that old”

“You’re retired, and I have work to do!” you said, as you started walking away.

“Doesn’t mean I’m old, means I had a successful career!” he shouted at your retreating figure.

“Yeah, you keep telling yourself that, Grandpa!”

Cut to a few hours later in his hotel room.

“Are you sure it’s okay for old people to get blowies?” You mocked as you got down on your knees between Sebastian’s legs “Like, you’re not going to have a heart attack are you?”

“I think.” He gripped your hair, bringing your mouth to his cock.

“You can never say no to a good blowie”.

The end.

[a-dauntless-daffodil]

Emily: “I’m really sorry Vaggie didn’t feel comfortable coming back here. If there’s anything I can do to change that-”

Charlie: “Probably not! It was kinda a sign of her endless love for me that she visited haven again at all!”

Emily: “Oh! Oh that’s nice!!”

Charlie: “Which I NEVER would have asked her to do anyway, if I’d KNOWN the truth about her history up here!”

Emily: “Right. I’m so sorry about that too, by the-”

Charlie: “I mean, I’m not the kind of girl who askes her girlfriend to go spend an afternoon sitting across from the people who ripped off her wings! And her eye! And left her slumped against a dumpster looking half dead!”

Emily: “A… dumpster?”

Charlie: “Making the woman you love relive all that without even rEALIZING it would be pretty fucked up, wouldn’t it??”

Emily: “V- very.”

Charlie: “IT HYPOTHETICALLY COULD MAKE SOMEONE FEEL KINDA TERRIBLE AFTERWARDS, DON’T YOU THINK?”

Emily: “I’m sure it did!”

Charlie: “H Y P O T H E T I C A L L Y”

Emily: “Could! I could see that, yes, if it HAD happened, that would’ve been…”

Emily: “…”

Emily: “Are you- um, is she, errr.. doing better now?”

Charlie: “SO much better she’s doing SO great these days!!!!”

IN HELL

Vaggie: (lying face down on the hotel lobby floor) “I promise I won’t stop helping you morons when she dumps me. I won’t let her dream die just because I was dumb enough to think I could be part of it.”

Angel Dust: “That’s nice toots.”

Vaggie: “Thanks.”

Angel Dust: “Not sad or stupidly gay or anythin’.”

Vaggie: “Thanks.”

Cherri Bomb: “Sad? Angie, it’s perfect!” (takes picture) “I’ve been thinking this place could use a new rug…”

Niffty: (stepping on vaggie) “Squishy!”

Husk: “Get the fuck off her.” (at vaggie) “You, get the fuck UP.”

Vaggie: “Why.”

Alastor: “Hmmm, because this is PAINFULLY pathetic to watch, even for me?”

Vaggie: “Guess I’ll be here forever then.”

Angel Dust: “Vag-GAY c’mon, ya girlfirend’s not gonna dump ya. What’s the competition even!?”

Vaggie: “There’s an angel up in heaven who's helping Charlie work towards her life long dreams as we speak, and she's taller than me, got more wings than me, not as stabby as me, and also not a mass murderer or a liar or missing an eye.”

Cherri Bomb: "Hey!"

Vaggie: "No offence to the other one-eyed ladies here, but it's different when you've got a fucked up empty eye socket."

Niffty: (sighs dreamily) "I bet losing it hurt soooo baaaaad..."

Vaggie: "Never telling my girlfriend why I'd actually lost it or how it made me look like the deranged murder angel I was, even while she tried kissing it better for me, ended up hurting way worse."

Angel Dust: “That's a point….”

Angel Dust: “...alright, so Charlie’s PROBABLY not gonna dump ya-”

Niffty: “Oh that’s a weird sound!” (giggling) (bounces on vaggie) “I think she’s dying~”

Husk: “If you fucks kill her, I’m telling her demon princess girlfriend and pouring myself a drink to go with your fucking tormented howls.”

Vaggie: (muffled) “what if she’s my ex-girlfriend”

Husk: “…I’ll pour you a fucking drink and listen to your tormented howls.”

Niffty: “ME TOO I’LL LISTEN TOO!”

Alastor: “Dear one, perhaps if you were NOT standing on her skull and compressing her WRETCHED cries into the floor, we could be hearing them already.”

Niffty: “Whoops~ Heheheeh~”

Cherri Bomb: (recording it) “Damn, that groan’s been going on for ages… Bitch has some lung capacity on her.”

Angel Dust: “Point one for Vag-gay! Probs as good eating out as ya are at HOLDING out on ya girl!!!”

Vaggie: “uuuughhh…uaauuugghhaaaAAAAAAAAAAaaahhhhrrrgh..” (whimpers)

Niffty: “Okay.” (GIGGLES) “NOW she’s dying~” (bounces)

IN HEAVEN

Charlie: “Everything’s totally fine I have NO idea why you’d even ASK!”

Emily: “You’ve spent the entire time up here staring at pictures of Vaggie on your phone?”

Charlie: “I’m allowed to look at my girlfriend!”

Emily: “While crying and sniffling into your sleeve?”

Charlie: (sobbing) (desperately patting down her jacket) “SHE’S THE ONLY ONE WHO KNOWS WHICH OF MY POCKETS HAS THE HANDKERCHIEF IN IT, OKAY??”

Emily: (smiling) “I think you two are going to be just fine.”

Charlie: (BLOWS NOSE LOUDLY INTO JACKET SLEEVE, which catches on FIRE)

Emily: “…..not your clothes, though. You might need a new set of those.”

[vettelsvee]

DO YOU REALLY WANT US TO TRY? | Sebastian Vettel

f1 masterlist | ask me anything or let's talk! history series masterlist

retired sebastian vettel x wife!reader

word count: 7265

summary: having the day off from the shootings of the documentary they're shooting about their years in formula 1, so seb decides not only to take y/n on a date in new york, but also to try for another baby

warnings: smut: female masturbation, male masturbation, fingering, oral sex (female receiving, male receiving), p in v without protection (wrap it before tap it!). bad language, curse words, translated german. based on january 2023

a/n: (you can read this while listening to maroon by taylor swift bc oh my) this is one of the extra fics i'm gonna be posting of history series! first volume on the series, meeting, will be posted as soon as i finish writing the first chapter so you can enjoy the same day both the intro, the prologue and chapter 1 🔥 feedback and reposts are truly appreciated, and also comments! thank you for all the support lately, you don't know how much it means to me <3

© VETTELSVEE (2024). please, do not steal, copy or translate my works. thanks for reading!

The dawn light, painting the New York sky in pink and orange, began to filter through the windows partially covered by semi-transparent curtains.

You laid peacefully in bed, on your right side, immersed in a light sleep. Your hair sprawled across the pillow, and your breathing was calm, synchronized with the movement of your chest. A faint smile adorned your lips, possibly reflecting a pleasant dream involving you, your husband and your little ones.

Sebastian gradually woke up, his half-asleep eyes first meeting the serene face of you illuminated by the emerging sunlight.

"Good morning, my love," Vettel whispered, trying not to startle you.

You didn't react, still lost in your peaceful nocturnal fantasy. A tender expression crossed the German's face as he leaned gently to kiss your forehead, taking utmost care not to wake you.

Your day in New York held many plans, and all he wanted you was to be as rested as possible.

"Mmm," you murmured, slightly more aware now. "Seb..."

Sebastian's gaze focused on your lips, but he didn't want to overwhelm you. Nevertheless, he couldn't resist, leaving a trail of kisses from your cheek to your jaw, chin, and even focusing on your neck, well aware that such gestures often led to a morning session of intimacy you had enjoyed many times before.

You mumbled sleepily but became a bit more conscious of your surroundings.

"That was nice, but could you let me sleep a bit more, please?" you asked.

Sebastian smiled, settling closer to you, resting his head on the pillow and letting it rest on his right hand, aligning with your level.

"I think it's already time to wake up, love," he said, gently caressing your cheek. "How about you let me wake you up properly?"

You, as if engaged in a playful banter, slowly opened your eyelids. You blinked leisurely, letting your light eyes adjust to the ambient light, a playful smile forming as you realized how close your husband was.

"What do you mean by waking me up properly?" you asked, raising an eyebrow, intrigued and emphasizing the last word.

Sebastian didn't reply. Instead, he leaned in and brushed his lips against yours, initiating a tender and longer kiss than initially intended. Afterward, he focused on every part of your tired face once again.

"Like that."

"Are we playing Disney princesses as if we were with the girls?" You teased, your cheeks turning slightly red. "Am I supposed to be Sleeping Beauty or what?"

Sebastian chuckled sincerely, admiring the innocence with which you, his wife, sometimes spoke due to the games you played mostly with your daughters throughout the day. Since becoming parents, you both knew your were reliving a second childhood, something you particularly loved as you had become the mother you always wanted to be, but you never got to have.

"Something like that, yes," Vettel replied. "Who could resist the incredible task of waking up a princess? Well," he corrected himself, "you’re not a princess anymore as I'm afraid to say you’re my queen."

"I haven't been awake for five minutes and you're already acting like your 2010 self! Yes, don't laugh, Seb! The one who didn't know what to do with his life and how to get rid of all the crap falling on him," you recalled. "And there was quite a lot, especially, and who flirted with every walking female being."

"But you loved him because, thanks to him, you ended up falling in love with me," Sebastian added with sarcasm. "Besides," he continued, "don't act like you've never put a foot wrong in your life. You weren't an angel a year later either."

Before you could retort, Sebastian moved aside the sheets covering him from the waist down to get out of bed. He put on his slippers and, with a mischievous smile, headed to the apartment's kitchen you had rented for your stay in the city.

"What are you doing, Sebastian Vettel?" demanded you to know, trying not to fall back asleep and figuring out what was going on in the man's head.

A playful smile appeared on Sebastian's face as he turned to you. You were watching him with considerable curiosity.

"It's a surprise, sweetheart," he commented, quickly returning to you, planting a kiss on your forehead and covering you a bit more with the sheets.

"You've got me intrigued," you said drowsily, yawning, "so don't take too long, or I'll fall back asleep."

Sebastian returned to the small space, leaving you confused and stretching in bed. Once in the kitchen, the former driver began gathering everything needed for a simple breakfast, given that his culinary skills were not the best but good enough to impress his wife. Soft sounds of utensils and plates clinking filled the air, along with the gradually brewing aroma of coffee, enough to fully awaken you. Nothing delighted you more than the scent of that brown beverage you loved, wafting through your nostrils.

You sat up slowly, leaning against the padded backrest. A few minutes later, you heard footsteps approaching. Sebastian appeared at your bedroom entrance carrying a tray filled with fresh fruits in an unevenly cut bowl, a buttered toast with peach jam, and a cup brimming with coffee, featuring a failed attempt at a heart. Additionally, there was a vase with some dried flowers that Sebastian had secretly bought the day before from a nearby florist.

"What's all this? Are we celebrating something?" you asked, completely impressed by the wonderful wake-up Seb had prepared for you. "Or is there something you want to tell me, and you don't know how?"

He carefully placed the tray on you lap, trying not to spill anything and cause a mess. Sebastian then sat beside you gently, positioning himself close enough to you but giving enough space for you to enjoy breakfast without feeling overwhelmed.

"I just wanted to make something special for the most special woman in my life," the blonde clarified.

"It's surreal that you've done this for me," you admitted. "Are you sure you're not going to ask me for a divorce or anything like that?" you added while taking a piece of bread with your hands and bringing it to your mouth.

"I thought the nonsense of wanting a divorce was a thing of the past," Sebastian replied. "Besides, this is the simplest thing in the world, love. Remember when I taught you to drive?" You nodded, eating slowly. He had given you quite a hard time, although in the end he became your best driving instructor. "Or when you got so obsessed with Moulin Rouge that I threw you a themed birthday party where you were Satine, I was Christian, and we spent the whole night singing after I spent days learning every single song Ewan McGregor sang in the movie?"

"You looked handsome as fuck in that outfit, and everyone had a great time," you said, recalling that day as if it were yesterday. "Although we didn't enjoy it as much when Mick and that girl he dated, Lara, who clearly intended to sleep together, caught us in bed together ."

The German rolled his eyes, trying to forget the scene where he had you sitting on his face, your face down focused on his penis giving him a blowjob, and the ex-couple, wearing only their underwear, entering the same room where you were.

He didn't want to remember that date even if they paid him all the money in the world, or if they even told him that climate change would end.

"Well," you continued, realizing that Sebastian didn't want to talk about it anymore. "Then you tell me what's all this for."

"Since we had the day off today, I wanted to do something special with you," Sebastian explained. "I know we have to get up at five tomorrow because we need to be at the studio around seven, so I didn't plan anything big," he apologized. "Sorry."

"Spill it, don't leave me in suspense," you said, now holding the fruit bowl in one hand and the fork in the other.

"What if we go to Central Park and spend the day there, sweetheart?"

You lifted your gaze from the coffee, surprised by the suggestion. Then, you smiled at her husband.

"Central Park is always a good plan, especially when it's with you,”  you replied cheerfully. “I like that it's something calm," you confessed, quite happy. "Mr. and Mrs. Vettel need, every now and then, a bit of calm in their lives."

Even though you hadn't finished eating everything Sebastian had prepared for you, you made a move to get up and get dressed. However, he asked you nicely to sit back down and wait for a moment.

"I have something for you," he declared affectionately, thinking about how you would react to the two surprises he had prepared, especially the first one.

Quickly, with your watchful eyes on him, he approached the built-in wardrobe in one corner of the room and took out a small bag containing an envelope and a small box wrapped in Christmas-themed wrapping paper.

"I know it's not the right time for me to give you this," Sebastian explained, pointing to the box, "but I'm sure you'll love what's inside. I couldn't give it to you with the girls around," he revealed, "or they would want to copy their mother, especially Emily. I still think they are too young for that."

You were puzzled by what the German had just said. As he offered you the box, you took it carefully in your hands. Slowly, you unwrapped it, avoiding tearing the wrapping hastily and removing the pieces of tape one by one, even though excitement was eating you.

Once you removed the wrapping, you saw what appeared to be the back of a toy box. When you turned it around you realized you were right and started screaming and jumping on the bed. Then, you ran towards Seb and gave him a tight hug, one of the ones she loved.

"Oh my God, sunshine. I can't believe it!" you exclaimed, completely thrilled. "I know I'm an adult, a mother with responsibilities," you specified, counting with your fingers, "but you've fulfilled my childhood dream!"

Sebastian laughed at your reaction, something that he was already expecting from you. As you became closer in 2008, you talked about childhood toys and that kind of stuff people usually talk about when they meet. You revealed that you had always wanted a Tamagotchi but, due to your family's economic situation, they couldn't buy you one. Your surprise came when Emily, your eldest daughter, asked for one last Christmas. Since then, he often caught you playing with it whenever your eldest ignored it or got bored of it.

He loved seeing you so excited about something as simple as a gadget with a virtual pet or whatever was inside.

"I thought you'd like to have one for yourself," Seb raised an eyebrow. "Considering how often you take it from your eldest daughter..."

You avoided his comment. Instead, you eagerly tore open the box and, once the device was out, you stopped to examine it in detail, trying not to let it slip from your trembling hands. You felt a rush of emotions running through your body, transporting you back to your childhood, remembering every detail you had experienced with your family and the ones that you didn't have around anymore.

But now you had a new family, your own family, and that was what you clung to in moments when you wondered why almost all your loved ones had somehow left you behind.

"And what's the other thing?"

You discreetly pointed, ignoring your feelings as you stepped away from your husband, to the envelope he held in his hands. You tried to reach it, but it was in vain: Sebastian, even just slightly, was taller than you.

"Oh, this?" he said. "It's nothing. Just tickets to go to the theater to see the Hamilton musical."

You opened your mouth completely in shock.

"And you say it so calm?!" you exclaimed, moving towards your husband again. "You're the most utterly unexpressive person I've ever met in my life, Vettel."

"Go get dressed, come on," he avoided that comment, heading towards the front door, grabbing his jacket, and after putting it on, he took the keys to the residence. "I'm going grocery shopping for the wonderful picnic we're going to have today."

"But what picnic are we going to have if it's winter!" you shouted, somewhat puzzled. "Sebastian Vettel, I swear to God that if I catch a cold and, on top of that, when we come back we give it to the girls, I won't be the one staying home to take care of them!"

He left the apartment laughing, closing the door behind him, leaving you to come up with wild theories about what you were going to do. It seemed you knew him very little.

Did you not know that, for him, a picnic always ended up meaning taking you to eat somewhere quiet in the city?

[...]

After almost two weeks of the History recordings, where you had only worn the most formal clothes possible, from almost gala dresses to uncomfortable pencil skirts that remind you of your days working for Red Bull as a intern and, then, as a race engineer, you could finally wear something you could describe as comfortable.

You had always been used to dressing casually except for the years you worked at Red Bull, where you often felt like you were on a fashion runway. So, for a stroll in the most famous park in New York and even for a night at the theater, you decided to wear slightly tight jeans that easily hugged your curves, hidden under a well-worn oversized sweater from your pregnancies. You left your hair, a bit longer than she was used to in recent years, loose, with its natural waves. You also wore tiny pearl-shaped earrings, your father's watch on your left wrist and white Converse shoes.

For Sebastian, an overshirt and a t-shirt hidden under his jacket, along with pants and Adidas sneakers, were more than enough. He wore that almost always, and no matter how many times you told him that it seemed like that outfit had become his uniform, he refused to change it.

And thank goodness he doesn't wear the famous headband, you criticized in your mind. How embarrassing. 

It had been almost three hours since you left your rented apartment and had done quite a few things, although it was nothing extraordinary. First, you walked hand in hand through the park, avoiding athletes and talking about trivial matters. Then, you started feeding ducks in a small pond with a loaf of bread Sebastian had specifically bought for that. You also decided to approach a group of elderly people playing chess to chat with them for a while. Older people were your weakness, and you felt sorry for most of them. You even ended up playing a few games while listening to them talk cheerfully about their lives, sharing some trivial details about yours at the same time.

When you set out for the famous picnic, they decided to call Amelie, your middle sister, to check on your kids. The moment the girl answered the call, the couple could momentarily see the desperation she was feeling:

"I swear tonight has been a disaster," the girl commented in German. "Matilda, at eleven at night, wanted to get into the pool with her Little Mermaid costume to swim and go to the magical kingdom of I don't know what," she expressed angrily, gesturing with her free hand. "Then, Emily wanted to play with your simulator, Seb, and ended up crying because I told her she needed your permission, but you were working and you couldn't give it to her," the mentioned one nodded, gesturing to his sister to continue. "And to top it off, George and Mick ended up falling asleep, leaving me in charge of two little devils."

“And what about aunt Johanna?,” you asked abruptly, leaning closer to the phone. Sebastian could sense your getting nervous, so he quickly took your hand and started caressing it with his thumb.

Amelie sighed, and you even heard a few muttered curses.

"Don't talk to me about your them, Y/N," the girl almost shouted. "They promised me they'd be here around eight, but uncle Hans ended up calling me a few hours later, drunk as a skunk, to tell me they went to a fancy dinner with some of their workmates and couldn't make it home."

"So, you've become the boss of everything, huh?" you commented with humor.

"Sadly."

The family conversation continued. As the minutes passed and you got closer to the place Sebastian had chosen for your meal that day, his parents joined them, having decided to take care of the youngest of the family, your baby boy Carl, while you were out. Michael and Corinna also decided to go to your residence, and with the youngest in her arms, she began explaining to you that he had learned to say a few new words.

"Auto," the baby joyfully exclaimed, while pointing from Schumacher's arms to a photo of Sebastian in his second team that was above the fireplace. "Auto, daddy. Daddy, das Auto ist blau."

That made Sebastian so happy that tears welled up in his eyes, although it didn't last long because you had already reached the door of the restaurant. Soft lights, despite it being midday, illuminated the path to the entrance, which stood out with its wide windows, resembling a glass display, showcasing diners already enjoying their meals.

After hanging up the call with your relatives, you entered and let yourselves be enveloped by the atmosphere. The interior was elegantly decorated, but not overly extravagant. There were plenty of potted plants of all kinds decorating every corner, and you weren't sure if it was that or not, but a very faint scent, like vanilla, seemed to emanate from some unknown place.

A waiter approached you both while you were chatting animatedly about the place.

"Good afternoon, Mr. and Mrs. Vettel," the young man interrupted, who should be in his twenties and apparently seemed to be a fan of your husband by his way to behave and, apparently, nervousness. "If you follow me I'll show you the table we've prepared so you can enjoy your meal without interruptions."

Sebastian and you thanked him with a slight nod and proceeded to follow him. You crossed the different sections of the establishment, trying not to attract the attention of any customers, until you reached a more secluded corner from where Central Park could be seen in the distance.

Once seated, the guy who was serving you offered you menus and, immediately, an older woman placed a few appetizers on the table, saying they were on the house.

At that moment, while deciding what to order, you began to dwell on the conversation you had with your youngest sister before starting to record the documentary for the first time. You didn't know how to broach to Seb the subject of getting pregnant again. You were nervous about his possible reaction, yes, but at the same time, you had a good feeling. Your husband was currently dissecting the steak you had ordered, while you dipped a nacho into some guacamole. Trying not to delay it further, you finally spoke while settling into your chair:

"Seb?" you asked to get his attention. "The other day, Lou told me something a bit... strange," you innocently expressed.

Vettel stopped cutting the piece of meat, dropped the utensils onto the plate, and looked at you a bit uneasy, not knowing what you might be referring to. 

"What do you mean something a bit strange?" he said, frowning and with a concerned tone. "What did she tell you?"

"She said we could go for one more bun," you emphasized the phrase with a bit of irony. "She also said we should have a second honeymoon or something like that," you crossed her arms, trying not to make a big deal out of it. "You know how my sister is."

And, indeed, Sebastian knew. He already had an idea of where this conversation was going, and if you meant it in a positive way, he was totally on board.

"So... one more bun, huh?" he teased, pretending not to know where the conversation was heading.

"I think Lou was talking about having another baby, love," you bluntly stated.

Sebastian nodded with excitement, knowing that your expression was currently a masterpiece. If you thought he wouldn't catch on to what you were referring to, you were absolutely mistaken. Every time your sister had told him that she'd like to have another nephew, she had done it using that phrase which, though totally absurd, had become an internal joke between them both. Now, you seemed to be a part of it as well.

"I know," Seb finally admitted, not wanting to tease you anymore as you seemed a bit deflated. "And... what do you think?"

You had a thoughtful expression, unsure of what to say. On one hand, you indeed wanted to be a mother for the fourth time, but there were so many things swirling in your head, things that would soon become a reality...

"What are you thinking, Y/N? Wouldn't it excite you us being parents again?" 

Sebastian moved his chair closer to the table and took both of your hands while keeping a close eye on you. He could feel you trembling a bit, and it wasn't particularly because of the cold.

"No, it's not that, it's just that... Carl is still a baby... You've just retired, and the only thing you should focus on now is on resting and making up for lost time. I'm starting all this stuff of F1 Academy soon and, on top of that, there's the mess of the documentary we've gotten into," you listed. "I don't feel capable of being a mother again, Seb," she confessed. "It will be overwhelming for us."

The German took your chin and made you look at him. Your gazes met, and your found somehow serenity amidst all the concerns that were overwhelming you at the moment.

"Listen, Y/N," the former driver expressed clearly and calmly. "I'll always be by your side, no matter where I am or what I do, okay?" You nodded, trying to hold back tears. "If you don't think now is the best time to have a baby, I'll wait, and if that time never comes, I'll be more than happy to see our little ones grow up next to you."

"Are you serious?"

"Very serious, Y/N," Seb affirmed once again. "I've always wanted to have a big family with you. You know that for me, the more, the merrier."

You leaned back a bit, surprised by your husband's words. You started reflecting on everything he had said since then, especially the if you don't think now is the best time to have a baby, I'll wait.

Did that mean he might want a fourth child... right?

"Wait, wait, wait," you played with your hands. "What did you say before?"

"I want to have all the babies in the world with you, and I'll wait as long as you need," Sebastian explained again.

Your eyes began to fill with tears of joy, causing confusion for your husband, who began to genuinely worry about you. He hadn't seen you like this for quite some time, and those were not particularly good times.

"Do you really want another baby?" you asked, now crying after you tried holding back tears. "Do you really want us to try?"

"How could I not want it, silly girl?" he rushed to hug you, already knowing what was going through your mind. "I'm willing to do anything you say except to sign divorce papers. So, if you want another mini version of us running around, with the mini versions of us that are no longer so mini running alongside, let's do it."

Your excitement couldn't fit into your body at the moment.

"You're amazing, did you know that?" you expressed, holding onto your husband even tighter.

"Of course," the German laughed, causing you to laugh as well. "I'm just doing what all men should do: be, or at least try to be, everything their girls deserve."

And you knew he was right.

"So...?"

You were nervous about the final answer, although after seeing Sebastian's eyes light up and narrow, revealing the dimples on his cheeks, he didn't need to give you a response: you already knew, and knew your husband too well to understand what was going through his mind at that moment.

"After the musical and dinner I'm going to make you the most beautiful baby in the world. Four kids for us, who have four Formula 1 world championships, is that ok with you?"

[...]

The return trip had created a kind of barrier between you. 

You knew what you were going to do, you had talked about it and, especially, it obviously wasn't the first time you had done it. Nevertheless, doubts always plagued you both when it came to conceiving a baby because, after the miscarriage you had in 2016, fear was always present.

Both the musical, from which you had left crying, and the dinner, despite having been caught by paparazzi and fans, to whom you did not deny anything, were great even Britta wasn't with you to help you. The night was young, and for you it had just begun no matter how much you tried to fool yourselves by promising each other that you would go to sleep soon.

As soon as you arrived at the apartment, you shared kisses that were more intimate than normal, and even some friction over your clothes. You were starting to get very horny, but had to calm down even you became more excited at the same time when Seb told you that, after the shower he was going to take, he would give you a lot of love.

Carl was barely two years old, and although Seb bragged about his three girls every time he had the opportunity to, you knew that what your husband wanted most was to have another small version of him running around.

You took off your clothes quickly, not bothering to put them on properly or look at where they ended up being thrown off. You laid down on the bed, wearing only the black lace panties, a courtesy gift from your sister and which had ended up becoming Sebastian's favorites, and you began to lower your left hand very slowly towards your privacy. You took some time for yourself despite how aroused you were by your touch, focusing on you nipples and, little by little, working your way down to your stomach, leaving a trail of caresses that made you very wet, as you could tell. You had had a lot of problems with your body in the past but, now, you felt like a fucking Greek goddess, and you didn't need Seb's compliments to believe it.

Once you reached your pussy, you tried to spend a brief moment exploring it However, you hunger was getting the better of you, and your excitement even more, so you quickly began to give small massages with the slowest speed you could to your clit, which made you let out a slight gasp. You continued to focus on yourself to the point that you had forgotten about Seb, who had already taken his shower and, completely naked from the bathroom door, was admiring the show that you were giving to him.

At the same time that you were increasing the pressure you were exerting on your G-spot, you began massaging your right breast with your non-dominant hand, the right one, focusing first on the areola and gradually moving towards your nipple, limiting yourself to rubbing it with the index finger. The movement of both of your hands, completely in rhythm, made Seb's penis become completely erect and ready to do anything to you. 

The German had been the one who had taught you everything about masturbation, no matter how much you tried to prove otherwise.

The man walked towards where you were while massaging his penis. As soon as he arrived and had you in front of him, he climbed onto the bed and lay down next to you, still absorbed in your own pleasure. As soon as he had the chance, Seb took advantage to kiss you fiercely, which was eagerly responded by you. You had already noticed that your husband had joined the party, although not yet actively. As if Vettel had read your thoughts, he began to caress your stomach and, without warning, he inserted his hand into your underwear, wasting no time and getting to work with the bundle of nerves between your legs.

"Fuck, Seb..." you whimpered with pleasure. "You could have warned earlier."

"If I had warned you you wouldn't be moaning three times louder right now than when your hand was in my place," Seb said, moving his finger from your clit to your inside, surprising you. "Remember that no one will ever give you more pleasure than me, Y/N Vettel."

Sebastian wanted to continue in that position. However, he knew they had to finish quickly. In just a few hours you had to be up and getting ready to continue filming the documentary, and it didn't seem particularly right to fuck you all night long even though that was his only desire.

Quickly, the German quickly pulled out of you, what made you let out a cry of frustration at the loss of contact. Instead, Sebastian got off the bed, knelt in front of you and took your thighs, squeezing hard to lower you to the edge of the surface and leave your pussy perfectly aligned with his mouth. You knew perfectly well that, in those moments, the blonde was the one who had control of you, no matter how much you wanted to dominate him. But you were not going to object to it: you loved Seb being in control.

Sex for you, who had been affectionately and sarcastically nicknamed the paddock royalty back in the day, was never boring but actually quite the opposite: it was a box full of surprises in which, in a matter of seconds, Seb could go from being rough and dominant, to be the exact representation of the perfect guy in teenage romantic movies.

The man took time to admire you. You only had your panties left over to be completely naked before him. Quickly, he slowly got rid of them, even though you were putting up some resistance. Then, he opened your legs and held them tightly by your thighs, on which he began to leave kisses, caresses and even the occasional slight bite, alternating between them tortuously.

"Sebastian Vettel, I'm not here to play games," you told him reluctantly, anxious for him to take the next step once and for all. "Either you fuck right now or I'll rub myself against the pillow until I come and the pillowcase ends up soaked."

He stood up, stopping touching your body. It caused, once again, great frustration for you.

"Do you think a bag filled with feathers is going to please you more than me?," Vettel asked curiously, playing with you.

"Seeing that you're acting like a dick, yes," you replied, sitting up and resting on the bed with your forearms.

"Are you sure what you're saying, meine Königin?"

You felt more horny after having heard that nickname. Not even a few milliseconds passed when you had already pushed him to lie down again. Immediately afterwards, with his arms tightly holding your lower extremities, the German was already kneeling again and running his tongue throughout your intimacy without any kind of mercy.

“Fuck, Seb!,” you squealed in surprise, prompting the German to lick faster. "My God..."

Seb was going so fast that your body was constantly rising and falling, your breasts bouncing hard almost in unison with Sebastian's licks. To change the rules of the game, and surprise you once again, he opened your folds widely with one hand and, with the other one, started massaging that button that caused you so much pleasure. Your legs had begun to close due to you being close to the orgasm, and the German could do nothing about it except try to delay the arrival of it. He had seen first-hand that, the longer you took to reach your release, the better it was. For this reason, he decided to slow down the pace of the movements, now replacing them with slower rubbing of your clit fusing it with the penetration of his middle finger.

The screams were getting louder, and Seb noticed how your walls contracted on his finger with increasing frequency and violence. He felt the orgasm close to you, and that was the impulse to add one more finger inside you to the equation, accompanied by the entire surface of his tongue on your nerves. While the two fingers were entering and leaving you, he devoured your pussy with a little bit of difficulty due to the lack of access, but with an incredible hunger. He was excited, and he noticed how the precum began to come out of the tip of his penis. This served no purpose other than to give him more motivation to eat you out as if he hadn't done so in a long time.

He needed to fuck you as soon as possible, but first he needed to please you. You always came first for him in sex, and it had become a ritual that emerged unexpectedly years ago, all thanks to Rosberg.

"I'm about to cum, sunshine," you shouted, hunching your back aggressively and lifting your head as high as you could while you kept pulling hard on your husband's hair. "Let me do something, please... I get on top of you and give you a blowjob while you keep going," you begged. “I’m serious, Seb, don't ignore me. Fuck...!”

Sebastian didn't replied as he was completely absorbed in giving you a good orgasm, because saying the best would be impossible. That position had been earned by those when celebrating your victory in the 2013 World Driver's Championship despite everything that it entailed later.

A few light bites on your clit and the increase in the thrusts, focusing on that point inside you that gave you so much pleasure, were the key to the arrival of your climax as you were holding onto the bed sheets tightly while he writhed wildly. 

Seb took some time to take all of your cum and let you calm down because there was still the best part of sex left.

"That was... lovely. Simply lovely."

Vettel sat up, gladly took the remains of your cum and sat down next to you, leaving a chaste kiss on you forehead and, later, on you lips, making you taste yourself.

"I'm the best at my job, what can I say? The best for my girl," he said modestly.

"So..." you commented before the German went on to the next thing and ignoring his words. "Are you going to let me make you feel good or not?"

"No."

A mischievous smile began to form on the man's face. Although he was quite enjoying making you nervous, the truth is that he didn't want that day to focus on him.

If you were going to make a baby, all the attention had to go to you: for that you were the one who would carry it, with everything that entailed, for nine months... more or less.

"Not even a simple blowjob?," you tried to convince him. "Not even a little suck? Come on, Seb."

"Don't insist anymore, really."

"I hope at least that you let your besties do it for me," you approached your husband, taking you breasts and squeezing them while impatiently bringing them closer to his face.

Sebastian laughed, again refusing your insistence. 

"Y/N," Vettel began to explain, "I want you to lie down," he gave you a short kiss, "and let me do everything," he took you by your waist and began to lay you down on the bed again. "Let me do all the work, love," he finished saying, standing upon top of you and beginning to rub his member against your intimacy. "Let me remind you that we're gonna make a baby, love, and you already know that in the Vettel's baby factory, children are made with love. Much affection and love."

You hated when your husband became dominant when they had sex and as quickly as possible ended up acting as if he were a prince straight out of Disney movies.

"Yes, whatever you say," you reprimanded. "It's not fair, Seb. I want to make you feel good too."

"It's not fair either that you suffer during pregnancy and I just stand by and watch," that's when you had to agree with him. "You...," he corrected herself, "you all women do everything. We only take part in the fun part."

Again, without letting you say anything else, he began to spread kisses along your neck, sucking on the spots he knew you liked the most. At the same time, he began to rub himself impatiently on the your stomach, masturbating himself so that his erection would not go down even though it was impossible at that point.

"I love when you do that..." you moaned when you noticed how the German's teeth dug lightly into you skin, "although I would like more to have you inside me."

"Patience, Y/N."

Sebastian continued kissing you through your entire neck, and all you could do was making increasingly aggressive gestures as you felt your pleasure increasing. His penis was becoming more and more erect and, as he could tell by touching your inner lips, you were very, very wet again.

"Please, Seb, don't stop," you moaned in desperation when you stopped feeling the German's lips. "I want you to do something else now, please."

"What do you want me to do?"

A mischievous smile appeared on the blonde's face at the possibilities that were going through his mind right now about what he could do with you. He looked at the time on his digital watch, and when he saw that it was almost twenty to one in the morning, something in him changed.

"Do you want to be in control now, Königin?," he commented with a hoarse and serious voice. "Is that what you want?"

“If you know that’s what I want, I don't know why you're asking me then.”

"Well," replied Sebastian, who had already reached the height of excitement, "let's do it my way because you haven't given me a clear answer..."

Before you could say anything else, he gave you another kiss, although this time he showed much more desperation than anyone you had shared earlier that same night.

"Are you going to leave me like that or what?," you said, seeing that your husband was not up to the task of what he had promised you and, therefore, he stepped away from you. "Switch positions with me right now and lie on the fucking bed, Sebastian."

He did as requested, completely surprised by the words you had let out of your mouth even though it was not the first time he had seen you behave that way with him during your intimate moments.

You had many facets, but the one where you had control during sex was secretly his second favorite, followed right after the one of you being the world's best mother.

Once you husband was finally lying down, you desperately grabbed his member and began to move it up and down at the same time as you clumsily pleasured yourself. Within a few seconds you already had it in your mouth, constantly putting it in and out of your lips and masturbating what you couldn't fit due to its length.

"Are you going to let me fuck you now or not?," Sebastian verbalized, trying not to sound desperate.

"You'll fuck me when I decide it, Vettel," you said. "So now you better shut up for a while. Let me continue doing my job or I'm afraid I'll have to stop too."

"Princess..." Seb complained.

You couldn't take it anymore no matter how much you tried to make excuses for yourself and restrain your husband. You hated it when Sebastian begged you: you were tough, and you coped differently depending on the day. Suddenly, and to the German's surprise, you straddled him and aligned you entrance with his member, slowly letting yourself fall just to torture him. Seb responded with loud gasps accompanied by several expletives towards you, which served to excite you even more.

Finally, you lowered yourself completely, letting out a scream as soon as you felt the German's cock completely inside you. At first, you put your hands on Seb's chest, although you quickly moved them to the edge of the headboard when you saw that he wanted to have full access to your breasts, which he began to caress more than with desire, with affection, focusing on the nipples especially, while massaging them together.

You increased the promising rhythm of your hips when you saw Seb getting close to orgasm. Him, to help you, took you by your waist, helping you in that swing that your hips were so accustomed to doing.

"Honey, I'm close," said Sebastian, who was having a hard time to even speak.

This only made you squeeze your insides and increase more, if possible, your speed, even causing you little damage. The German's heartbreaking screams were filling your ears and, as soon as you began to touch yourself to try to reach the orgasm at the same time as Sebastian's, you joined his gasps.

"God, Y/N, there. Yes!"

A few more thrusts were enough for Sebastian to cum inside you, who continued riding him with impetus. Just a minute later, you had also reached the long-awaited second orgasm of the day, without a doubt much better than the first one.

With your legs shaking, carefully got off your husband, who helped you even though he couldn't even handle his own body. You laid down next to him, tangling your legs next to his. Sebastian, as soon as he had you next to him, took you in his arms and began to caress you and kiss you delicately all over your face.

Sleep began to take its toll on your bodies, and as soon as you began to get closer to each other, yawns replaced moans. Despite being aware that you had to get up in less than four hours, you wouldn't change anything that had happened between you moments before.

"I never get tired of kissing you," you commented, sliding your fingers through Sebastian's hair and snuggling with him, "or hugging you, or anything with you. I am very lucky to have you, and I would live again everything we have gone through in this and a thousand other lives just to be with you,” you acknowledged.

"I'm the lucky one, Y/N," he limited to say with honesty as he placed a kiss on your forehead for the umpteenth time that day, "and you'll never know how much."

[darby-rowe]

PILEDRIVER !

sejanus plinth x fem!District 2!reader summary when you and sejanus get the opportunity to relive your days of amateur backyard wrestling while growing up in district two, things get... well, compromising.

word count 2.5k cw childhood best friends to lovers, the inherent eroticism of wrestling, awkward boner, reader makes the first move, first kiss, cunnilingus, confident sej, p in v, unprotected sex, sej has a big dick, petnames, dirty talk, flexible reader, piledriver position, y/n usage, pulling out, not proofread notes based off of my personal headcanon that district two quickly became filled to the brim with underground fighting/wrestling rings after it was named panem's newest military hotspot after district 13 got its shit obliterated. and i was always obsessed with the idea of a district two character who was heavily involved with these rings, so i decided to "soften" up the idea a little bit by just making reader the type of child who wrestled w/ her family and friends as a little girl. thought this concept was super cute and i hope yall do too! also for anyone who's wondering, sej and reader are supposed to be doing catch wrestling, but i also combined moves from collegiate wrestling and pro wrestling :) so yeah!!

Growing up in District 2, you swiftly grew familiar with back alley tussling as your home district quickly became Panem’s military hotspot after the first rebellion. It seemed as if your entire childhood consisted of backyard amateur wrestling and secret underground fighting rings in which you constantly found yourself getting wound up in.

By the time your family bought themselves a place within the Capitol, you already had a well rounded history of getting broken and bruised by friends, family, and complete strangers. And the thing was that you loved it. You loved stepping inside a poorly made ring and roughin’ it out with your siblings or cousins.

And your parents sure could afford the medical bills after all your broken bones!

So when you were forced to pack up and leave for the Capitol, you were heartbroken to have to transition into a life of high class uppity scumbags – with the exception of your best friend, Sejanus Plinth, whom you felt was your only source of comfort among the sea of self-important snakes.

One late night, Sejanus came to you with bright eyes and grinning lips, eager to show you what he had found. “Oh, and make sure you bring a sports bra, gym shorts, and some good shoes,” he had said before you two went off. Of course you didn’t object to a tiny adventure with your best friend, so you followed him through the quiet streets of the Capitol towards a run-down building that smelled of mold and old rubber. When you stepped inside, your heart swelled with nostalgic joy, and your eyes nearly overflowed with tears.

“Sej,” you gasped as your eyes fell upon the abandoned gym. Sure, it was a fixer-upper, but it was more than perfect for just the two of you. All of the punching bags and weight-racks were right where they were left, but the most important thing in the room were the big circles in the middle of the room.

You looked back at Sejanus with a look of pure gratitude. “How’d you find this place?”

He shrugged his shoulders, his brown doe eyes sparkling with delight. “I may or may not have pulled a few strings,” he teased. God bless Strabo and Ma Plinth, you thought. “Now, enough talk – you up for some old fashioned catch-as-catch-can?”

•❅───✧❅✦❅✧───❅•

The amount of time this gym must have been abandoned concerned you a bit, making you feel that if you took a big enough breath you’d be a walking incarnate of tuberculosis for the next year. But the two of you didn’t plan on staying long, as trespassing could land you a good few nights in jail. And you and Sejanus being district, that was the last thing you two needed to be added to your permanent records.

You made sure to stretch your body, making sure all your muscles were warmed up deeply before locking up with Sejanus. And him, with his big strong arms, you realized that your body was the only thing warmed up tonight.

“I’m a lover, not a fighter,” Sejanus teased, wounding up his arms in large circles. “I’ll make sure to go easy on you, darling,”

“You think I can’t take you down, big boy?” you challenged, cracking your neck and knuckles. “I’ve done it before, remember?”

“Yeah, when we were five,” Sejanus countered, adding a small chuckle to his words.

There wasn’t a referee, nor a bell or a whistle, so you two shook hands and squatted down as you circled each other. The fingers of your hands slightly ghosted each other, teasing each other at the same time of who was going to grapple who first. The two of you then locked up in a collar and elbow tie-up, your hand grasping the back of his neck as you pulled him in for a standing headlock. You tightly secured Sejanus’s head into the pocket of your forearm as his hands felt around your waist. His strength overtook yours as he pushed himself out of the lock, and you couldn’t help yourself but lightly gasp as he pulls in for a standing headlock of his own and takes you down to the ground with a takeover. The feeling of your body flipping forwards onto your back makes you dizzy for just a second, opening your eyes to see Sejanus’s smiling face looking down straight at you.

“Thought you were gonna go easy on me,” you teased, panting from the combination of sudden movements.

Sejanus still has his arms wrapped around your head, also panting. “Change of heart, I guess,”

You huffed out a puff of air out of your mouth in a chuckle. “What a gentleman,” you locked your hands around his torso and pushed yourself into a bridge, using your strength to roll him over onto his stomach to lay him out prone. You let out embarrassingly loud grunts of effort as Sejanus was larger than you, which made him start laughing as you now laid over his body, hands still wrapped around him. “Shut up, Sej,”

“What? It’s cute,” he responded from under you.

You slowly released your hands from around his already clammy torso and stood back up on your feet, stretching your body once more to prepare for round two. “You didn’t even pin me,” Sejanus said with a tinge of confusion in his voice.

“It’s not like we’re actually doing a match together,” you told him. “What? You wanna do one for real this time?”

Sejanus twisted his body at the waist, knocking out all the kinks in his muscles. “I thought we were doing it for real?”

“Well now we can, grizzly bear,” your voice was almost a purr as you stretched out your arms at the ready. Grizzly bear? The nickname confused him, so you took the momentary distraction to two-step into a double-leg takedown. When he was on his back, you flipped your body over in a jackknife pin, but the sheer swiftness of Sejanus betrayed you.

Sejanus used the strength of his legs to roll you onto the backs of your shoulders, your arms pinned down by his legs, and knees hooked on his shoulders. You were unable to kick out by the time the three seconds were up.

“Nice,” you commented, panting as you looked up at his sweaty face from your compromising position.

“Should say the same to you,” he responded, letting you roll yourself backwards onto your knees. “Another round, darling?”

You got up onto your feet, but before you could agree to another round, you found yourself being tackled onto the ground below and folded in half. Sejanus had your arms pinned down over your head, and your knees were basically parallel with your cheeks.

And you felt the unmistakable feeling of Sejanus’s hard erection pressed against your ass.

Sejanus had you pinned down for more than the 3-second count, and he still hadn’t let you go. You blushed, eyes scanning over his sweaty form dominating over you. What do you even say in a situation like this?

You always thought Sejanus was cute. You watched him grow up alongside you and turn into an extremely handsome young man. He grew into his muscular stature, his brown curls became more defined, his brown doe eyes only grew dreamier.

And now here you were, folded in half like a damn pretzel, and he was hard.

“You’re, um…” you wet your lips awkwardly. “You–... you’re hard, Sej,”

You felt guilt well up inside your chest as Sejanus’s face seemed to drop with embarrassment. Fuck, now you felt like an asshole. “Oh… oh, Y/N, I’m so sorry–”

“Hey, hey, no,” you cooed, trying to put his worries at ease. You reached up and brushed a stray curl from his sweaty face. “No apologies, Sej. Don’t worry,”

Sejanus crawled away from on top of you, letting your body unfold itself, giving your ribcage and your other internal organs a break. You pulled yourself up into a sitting position where Sejanus had one knee folded up towards his chest and his other leg flat on the dusty wrestling mat.

You sat there in silence, thinking of what your next move could possibly be. Should you apologize for pointing out Sejanus’s erection? It seemed as if no matter what you chose to say, it was only going to make the situation worse.

So instead, you said fuck it, and chose not to say anything at all as you grabbed Sejanus’s face and pulled him in for a kiss. You felt his big hands find purchase on your shoulders, as if the initial shock was going to make him fall over.

The taste of his plump, warm lips slotting themselves against yours sent goosebumps down your back, and when you pulled away for a breather, only a few words were exchanged before you two went back at it.

“Are you sure?” Sejanus mumbled against your lips.

“Please,” you whispered. And that was all that needed to be said.

It didn’t take long before you had Sejanus trailing open-mouthed kisses down your stomach and down towards the waistline of your shorts, hooking his fingers beneath the waistband and pulling them down to reveal your plain, cotton panties. Even in the darkness of the abandoned gym, he could still pinpoint the dark spot of your wetness, teasingly circling his thumb on the area. You inhaled sharply. You were already so sensitive. You blamed it on the previous exertion of energy you shared with Sejanus and, well, also the fact that Sejanus’s face was mere inches away from your pussy.

He swiftly pulled off your panties and leaned down to deliver one kitten lick to your clit, making you gasp softly. You could tell that your reaction made the boy smirk, adding to his confidence.

In a matter of seconds you were reduced to a mewling, moaning mess as the curly-haired boy devoured your clit – licking, sucking, slurping up your juices like a man who had been starving for days. The sheer sound of Sejanus’s mouth sucking at your pussy made you blush, and admittedly, you were even a little embarrassed at how wet you were.

You whined at the feeling of his mouth’s absence from your pussy, only to feel his hand lightly grab your face to force you to look at him.

“Wanna see your pretty face, please?” he cooed, and you nodded obediently, earning you his mouth back on your swollen clit. You cried out with delight, placing both of your hands on your breasts and squeezing them.

“So good…” you mewled, your legs beginning to squirm from your increasing pleasure. The knot in your stomach neared its unraveling, until you were once again folded in half, your pussy hovering above you at a near 90-degree angle.

Sejanus’s mouth never left your clit as he lifted your body over itself. Your fingernails dug deep into the mat, your eyes focused solely on Sejanus’s mouth and tongue on your lips and bud. But before you could finally arrive at your orgasm, he stopped abruptly.

You pouted pathetically up at him, whimpering. “Sej,”

He reached a hand down to softly caress the side of your face, his thumb tracing circles on your flushed cheeks. You could see the way his wet mouth shined in the dim light of the gym, licking his lips to taste the remnants of your essence.

“I wanna fuck you so bad, baby,” The way Sejanus was practically begging you had your stomach doing backflips. “Please? Please?”

In what world would you ever say no?

You pawed at Sejanus’s big arms as you nodded up at him, mumbling phrases like, “Please fuck me,” and “Want you inside me, baby,”

Your mouth watered as he freed his hard cock from his shorts, eyes widening at how big he was. Sejanus most likely caught on to your worried face as he quickly made sure to ease your worries. “I’ll be gentle, darling, don’t worry,” he murmured, slipping his cock in between your wet pussy lips. You gasped at his teasing, biting your lip as the tip of his cock pushed against your clit so well. “Breathe, baby,” he sighed, positioning the head of his dick at your tight, wet entrance and slowly lowering himself into you.

You inhaled sharply as the thickness of his cock stretched you open, the two of you groaning simultaneously at the new sensations. Sejanus was slow and cautious at first, but you could tell he wanted so badly to thrust himself inside of you and pound into the mat.

“So big…” you whispered, earning another low groan from the boy above you. When your walls finally stopped resisting against his size, Sejanus began to slowly lift himself up and back down inside you, earning beautiful melodic moans from your mouth.

You hooked your arms around your legs to keep you in this rather compromising position, but the way the curly-haired boy looked two seconds away from pistoning his cock inside you had you salivating. You looked up at him, batting your eyelashes and mumbling how good he felt, how big he was, how pretty he looked. You relished in the sight of him blushing at your dirty praises.

Sejanus’s hands found their place on your thighs to help him quicken his thrusts, and the faster he moved inside you, the louder your moans became. You felt his balls slap against your ass, the skin of his thighs colliding with yours, and his moans – ugh, his moans – you couldn’t get enough of his sounds of pure ecstasy.

“Your pussy feels so good,” he panted, looking down at your blissed out face. And for a moment, you two smiled at each other, just happy to be in this moment together.

Your hands reached up to grab at his forearms as you felt the knot in your stomach near its unraveling once more. “Gonna cum, baby,” you moaned. “Gonna cum all over your cock,”

Sejanus expedited the arrival of your orgasm by taking his thumb and circling your clit, and in a matter of moments you were crying and babbling your way as your walls tightened and pulsated around his dick. The sheer explosion of pleasure had you seeing spots behind your eyelids, gritting your teeth and growling as the boy above you didn’t slow down his thrusts.

As your high came down, Sejanus’s high was approaching as he quickly lifted himself out of you and swiftly started stroking his cock until he was spurting thick, white ropes all over your pussy. You closed your eyes dreamily as you listened to the beautiful sounds of his groans as his cock shot out large amounts of cum all over you.

You unfolded your body and brought your hand up to your chest to feel your heartbeat, breathing heavily as the intensity of your activities wound down. You felt Sejanus lay his large body on top of you, and you instinctively wrapped your arms around him and held him close, kissing the top of his head.

And in a last ditch effort to be the comedian of the moment, Sejanus said one last thing before the two of you cleaned yourselves up and headed home.

“Good hustle,” he mumbled, earning a wheeze from you and a tiny slap to his bicep.

“Shut the fuck up, Sej,”

tagging @spideyhexx — a late bday gift from me to you. ♡

dividers by cafekitsune

[agendabymooner]

closure ! max v. x ofc (hearth sister!ofc)

“it wasn't right—the way it all went down. looks like you know that now.”

summary: sylvie just wanted to prove that she was good enough for the red bull racing team, but everything that had to do with her history with max seemed to get in the way of her determination— and she made sure that he knew that.

content warning: panic attack (and its triggers), use of explicit language, mentions of absent father figure, j*s verst*ppen 🤢, christian horner, frenemies to lovers (ish), confrontational text messages (max and sylvie), max being oblivious to her mental state, mentions of max’s childhood (not detailed)

note: as someone who struggled to find peace at certain situations, I know what it’s like to struggle in asking for help. please remember that there are people that are more than willing to give you the support that you need.

(i may not be able to update any of the smau works for the next two weeks as i am out of town and i only have my ipad with me. i normally do the layouts on my computer. i’ll try my best!)

enjoy xx

masterlist

2016 Spanish GP

If fate worked like this all the time, she might as well jump off the cliff if any of her peers asked for it.

She had been pulled out of her lectures for the week only for her to sit and watch how the racing teams operated. She could only roll her eyes when Christian Horner recommended she should have her presence be known in the paddock and the track as she prepared to work in an F1 team.

Sylvie already knew how everything worked; she was going to be a driver, for fuck’s sake. She had been trained for it. She grew up attending the race weekends because of her father and grandparents. She knew everything now. Hell, she even had Toto Wolff for an in-law (practically). He could just rerun everything to her if she needed to remember.

Christian Horner clearly had a different intention towards her visit. He claimed that she needed to relive the experiences in the garage, the media pit and the hospitality. But she knew the truth.

She had a rapport, her history in the academy was obviously discussed to Christian at some point. How Christian never mentioned anything about her departure from the program to her sister, who now held parts of Red Bull and the other two teams, she never had an answer for. It wasn’t a secret to most. At least to those who were there the day she left.

Tilly was in the Mercedes area, leaving her little sister in the Red Bull hospitality as she listened to nothing. She felt so alone and isolated, her urge to go to Mercedes was overwhelming. But it wasn’t as if she could; Christian had already told her off about her role and position in the company.

It didn’t help that Max Verstappen, donning his number 33 shirt, was in the same building. He was quite adamant on keeping her company but she constantly avoided him, slipping out of his sight as soon as his eyes settled on her.

She found excuses, most of which had something to do with Daniel Ricciardo. The Australian hadn’t minded though, knowing that she felt uncomfortable being around other people especially around Max. Daniel never minded her excuses, instead making up a lie that’s believable to others. Just so she could escape.

Max’s family was there that weekend. Obviously, she knew his mother and Victoria, his sister. Max and Sylvie, the two 18 year olds, were practically soul twins. Born on the same day, grew up together, and had been attached to the hips since the day they could crawl— they were friends, no one just knew what had happened. His mother had always asked Sylvie’s mum about her and how she’d managed to let her friendship with Max dissipate like that. Victoria missed having Sylvie over for tea whenever she visited the Netherlands, asking Max about what he had done to let Sylvie go like that.

Jos Verstappen was a different story. He never liked Sylvie, only holding a certain amount of respect for Julius Hearth and Blanche Ford Hearth. He always wanted Max to be successful at motorsport and this meant that nobody could be as equally good as his son. Not especially when Max’s ability matched Sylvie’s. He always claimed that hanging out with “that girl” will simply distract Max.

Even if he nodded at his father’s direction, Max continued to be friends with Sylvie, spending more time together whenever she and her family would fly and meet with his family.

At the ripe age of 12, Max admitted to her that she’s the closest thing that he had to an imaginary friend. Like he was forced to grow up before he could even walk. She was the one who would pull up the PlayStation whenever he failed to please his father for the tournament of that time. Jos never liked her, but he didn’t know exactly what could’ve made him dislike her. Sylvie didn’t like him, either, because she couldn’t believe that she was the one who’d have to give Max the childhood that he deserved. There are times when she wished she could simply spew out the foulest words and lump him with her own father. Well… she had already considered him a shitty father, and there’s no changing of opinion now.

So for Sylvie to see Jos in the paddock, basically keeping his eye on his son like a pestering hawk? Yeah, she turned away from their direction.

Then another group of people came, the same arrogant smile all over their faces. They taunted her.

She could remember her last week at the academy, when she had enough. These boys questioned her abilities on the track as soon as she started, trying to get her to quit as soon as she could. She didn’t care about them, because whenever they’d race she remained on the top of their level. They hated her because of it. Then on her last day, she was left to be called a name that didn’t even fit her…

“Snake Sylvie!” Matt Bauer was what she called Max’s bitch. He never liked Sylvie and had always wanted to be in Max’s family’s good graces. Alongside him were Max’s two other friends. These three were the same incompetent fucks who never ended in Formula 2. Thus, ending their racing careers early. They were doing fuck knows what these days. Which was quite hilarious, if you were to ask Sylvie, because they were the ones who kept telling Max to “Keep working” or “toughen up and get the first place.”

She couldn’t remember their names when she met them again that weekend, her eyes were already blurry from the tears as she shoved her way through them. “Where are you going?! We’re just going to catch up, babe!”

She didn’t even stop, her feet speeding up as she attempted to wipe her tears away. Her lips let out a stutter of excuse me as she pushed her way into where the Mercedes garage was.

Second free practice didn’t start anytime soon and Sylvie was thankful for that. It, however, never stopped the camera by the engineering station from capturing the sounds of a sobbing girl and an image of her nearly soaked Red Bull shirt as she ran inside. Had she been stronger than this, she wouldn’t have ran to Toto.

As if he knew someone was coming his way, Toto Wolff immediately took his headphones off and turned. His face etched with worry as Sylvie wrapped her arms around his broad figure. She was hysterically sobbing and shaking, her tears almost soaking his white shirt as she kept her head tucked in his chest.

“Can we stop the camera? There’s an obvious situation going on in here and we need a moment,” Sylvie couldn’t hear his voice as it was something more of a rumbling noise. Meanwhile Toto’s stern expression made the cameraman do as he was told. “Hey, schwester, are you okay?”

She was relentless, sobbing as she kept her head down and her arms tightly wrapped around him. She couldn’t speak. Not breathe for that matter. It felt like the last day of the academy all over again. Having no voice felt like she was just as defenseless once more.

“Sylvie, do you want me to take you to your hospitality?” Her bloodshot red eyes, still tearing up, stared into his dark ones as her lips quivered and her head shook left and right. “Do you want your sister?”

Toto knew that the Mercedes hospitality was nearer to the Red Bull area than the Mercedes garage. So for her to go this far just for comfort… something told him that she didn’t want to stress out the pregnant woman and that she needed more than her sister.

He pursed his lips, feeling helpless as he kept an arm around her shoulder as they walked out of the garage. He nodded at his engineers as if he was letting them know about leaving for a moment.

He did his best at comforting her. Rubbed her back, shushing her quietly and gently leading her to the hospitality. People outdoors had gotten a glimpse of her situation and began to speculate, which forced her to hide her face once more as Toto glared at them.

“Come on, schatzi,” inside nobody had batted an eye on her. And instead of speculating, certain people merely looked at the two with concern. What the hell happened, they probably asked themselves.

She was too busy crying and hiding her face away that she hadn’t realized Tilly was already approaching the two. Sylvie didn’t look up until she heard, “What happened, bello?”

“She came to the garage,” Toto said quietly, looking down at his in-law with concern as he said, “she couldn’t say anything because she’s having a hard time breathing.”

“Oh, lovie,” Tilly whispered empathetically, her delicate figure reaching out to hug her little sister, “I’m sorry to hear that. Come, let’s sit down, yes?”

Sylvie could barely think throughout the process of moving from one place to another. They reached the Mercedes motorhome and found themselves in a private room, Sylvie’s lips were swollen and her tear-stained cheeks were red.

She wasn’t even aware that Toto left until his tall figure returned with two bottles of water in his hands. He simply placed it down on the empty table and exchanged looks with his girlfriend. They couldn’t even find a way to help her out of this.

“Listen, Sylvie,” the girl’s sobbing subsided for a moment as Toto said, “I will come back. Okay? I will check and make sure that you’re alright, but I have to go.”

“Yes, go,” Tilly nodded at him, “I’ll be here. Thank you for taking her to me, mon amour.”

“Alright, I’ll be back as soon as I can,” Toto murmured as he leaned down and pecked Tilly’s lips. “I love you.”

“And I love you,” Tilly smiled ruefully, her eyes trained on her little sister as Toto moved to stand and hug Sylvie. Sylvie could only hug his waist, not wanting to let go but had done so anyway.

“Take some time to breathe, lovie,” Toto said for the last time before he left hesitantly.

Nobody but the two were inside the motorhome, thankfully. Sylvie would be so embarrassed to cry in front of other people— as she had done so ten minutes ago. The silence was interrupted by Sylvie’s sobbing. Tilly couldn’t help but wrap her arm around Sylvie’s shoulders, trying to occupy as much space as a pregnant woman could. God, this was the only thing that she didn’t like about her pregnancy. She wasn’t able to comfort her sisters or anyone as much as she’d like to do.

The model couldn’t even think or try to let out a single word, only crying in her sister’s arms as she listened to her shushing. It didn’t take long until the tears dried up. Her energy drained from crying too much over some fuckers who couldn’t even make it to the podium. Them, and that one person would be able to do that on Sunday.

With exhaustion washing over her, her sniffles turned into something more silent as she shut her eyes. It didn’t take long for Tilly to notice this as she stood up, giving more space to the girl on the couch. “Get some rest, lovie,” Tilly said quietly, brushing Sylvie’s hair away as the girl drifted off to sleep.

She really didn’t like being here in Spain.

—

Argument just outside the motorhome was what had woken her up. It was normal to have frustrated drivers or team principals throw a bitch fit, but hearing an argument was a different story.

Her eyes stung from opening after her post-crying nap, her feet meeting the floor as she popped the lid of the bottle open, her parched body taking in the water that she swallowed.

She liked eavesdropping, she really did. She liked to provide her own input even if it’s not needed— she was nosey and everyone knew that. But what she had gone through just about an hour or so ago made her lose the energy and motivation to be her usual self.

It didn’t stop her from walking closer to the door and listening in to whatever argument was going on.

“She’s here to observe and work, she’s not here to spectate,” that was Christian Horner.

“But she’s not feeling well, Christian, she has to rest,” now that’s her favourite in-law. Not really in-law.

“Look, I get that you’re looking out for her but you have to understand,” Christian hissed, “she’ll be signing with Red Bull as soon as she graduates. I cannot have her working with the team if you’re constantly mollycoddling her just because you’re the closest that she has to a father figure. This is a professional work setting, Toto, and she needs to be disciplined to be a part of it.”

“Disciplined, in what way?” The sternness on Toto’s voice could kill, unless you’re just as stupid as Christian as Sylvie heard a scoff coming out of the Red Bull team principal’s mouth.

“Everybody’s going through tough times,” Christian said, “so what? Most of us are moving along anyways. Don’t treat her like a child and make exemptions. She’s never going to learn how to toughen up from it.”

“Hey!” Another voice rung out as the door opened slightly, making her step back as she heard an exclamation of, “That girl was distressed after she left your area— the place where she’s supposed to feel comfortable working in. It’s not her responsibility to bear the problems that are clearly happening within the area of your control, so don’t you tell us how to accommodate if you can barely take care of it. Alright?”

“Fuckin’ prick,” the door slammed shut as Sylvie’s figure remained frozen, her eyes watching as they met Lewis’ dark ones. He smiled gently and asked, “Hey. Are you feeling better now, sweetheart?”

She didn’t respond for a moment after she heard Toto say, “Just give it a rest. She’ll work on what she has to do, just let it go for now. Speak to Tilly, if you would like.”

“Don’t worry about them,” Lewis pulled her back to the couch and sat with her. He leaned back as he joked, “Lovers’ quarrel is what’s going on between the two.”

She chuckled quietly, unable to keep her facade. The laughter fell eventually as she muttered, “I didn’t mean to create such a scene. I’m sorry.”

“What? Hey, girl, no,” Lewis felt his heart break at her words as he reached and rubbed her shoulder for comfort. “Don’t be sorry for snapping. It’s brave of you to keep it together in the first place.”

“I really didn’t mean to make a big deal out of it,” her voice cracked as she tried not to cry. Thinking about it was exhausting and saddening. “It’s just— there’s—“

“It’s okay, take a deep breath,” Lewis told her softly. She did as she was told. Many would say that it’s a rare thing to happen but Sylvie listened.

“There’s just people,” Sylvie explained quietly, not looking at Lewis as she murmured, “I haven’t seen them for a while and… I felt so uneasy. Like it’s the final nail in the coffin. I didn’t want to make a big deal because it was at Red Bull. Nobody’s in there. Toto, you and Tilly are in Mercedes.”

“Sorry we couldn’t be there,” Lewis told her sympathetically. “But it’s a good idea that you went to the garage as quickly as you did. Now look, even Christian’s facing Toto’s wrath.”

“I don’t want to think about it anymore,” Sylvie whispered shakily, shutting her eyes close as she sighed, “I just want some closure.”

The next few days were dreadful. She hadn’t wanted to go back to England as much as she did that weekend.

The people she never wanted to see were there. The sad part of it was the fact that Max would continue to be a part of her life and job, whether she liked it or not. She’d have to tolerate him, no matter how much shit she had gone through because of him and those people around him. This was the second time she had seen him and felt so angry. It was like her life was a race. It starts out very well, with her at the pole. But then she crashes the moment she tries to take advantage and overtake.

On Sunday, Max landed in P1. Sylvie watched him pop the cork of the Moet out and showered his fellow podium winners with it. The text that she then received and sent spilled everything that had nothing to do with champagne. But rather explained how she ended up leaving the academy after that damn open tournament four years ago.

Max complains a lot, he could admit, but he never felt so guilty as much as he did when he practically berated her through a series of text messages. He always demanded answers to things that he believed had explanations, and he wouldn’t stop until he got it. But sometimes he wished his relentless demands were silenced by his conscience.

He felt extremely guilty and upset. It wasn’t because Sylvie Hearth refused to give in to his demands, but rather because her answers explained her hatred and anger. It wasn’t just any anger. It was an ounce of hatred and a lot of anger directed towards him.

Because really, he was the reason why Sylvie never turned out to be the first woman to become a Formula One driver. She never got the seat in Red Bull Racing and Max had gotten it instead. Now he understood why she would refuse to speak to or look at him as if they were childhood best friends and act like they were strangers.

[niqabisinparis]

My honest take on every driver on the grid (no DTS influence) in no particular order

Albon - a real cutie patootie with underrated talent but not wdc material whatsoever

Russell - a little overrated. good control of his car but also not wdc material. I like his new vibe but v much seems to be overcompensating for being a bit of a prick and trying to be more relatable on social media. seems insecure

max - a killer forged from pure grit and sweat. has the skill and fire for prob 2 more wdcs but his weak self control will get to him. love his idgaf attitude when it comes to media and social. super weird that he’s dating piquet’s daughter but love his relationship w penelope

Lewis - undisputed decorated champion built from pure hard work. so underrated that sometimes he underestimates himself. the serena williams of the sport. needs to be more selfish/aggressive/and cocky in public to earn the respect he deserves. king of defense and overtakes

leclerc - also underrated but undercutting his own raw talent by being passive and not taking control of his race strategy. needs to be more aggressive with defense and overtakes

sainz - correctly rated. decent consistent driver who’s level headed but prob no wdc in his future due to silly decisions

daniel- overrated af and overly confident in his own skill. feels entitled to a good car even though he’s done nothing when he had them. the “personality hire” joke is def not a joke

yuki- didn’t like him at first due to his temper and manner of speaking to his engineers but seems to have calmed down. his race craft is clean af now but still lacking consistency but could be from the car. def deserves an RB seat before daniel

checo - idk enough about his career history to comment but seems like a “skate by on decent results in good a team” kinda driver. his one redeeming factor was consistency and that’s gone too. can’t defend or attack for shit.

logan- so bad that the “he was put into f1 too early” excuse just doesn’t cut it anymore. More than half the season gone and no improvement is embarrassing. I can tell he’s trying but he just doesn’t have it and is costing an already broke team so much by crashing every race. like do u even know how to drive this car?

lando - has the raw skill and seems to lock in and deliver but only when the situation is in his favor. but when he does lock in it’s beautiful. still too green and lacks consistency. weak mentally and leans towards negativity which fucks up his aura. gives “tortured former gifted child” vibes. def see a wdc in his future

oscar - solid driver and level headed. could be wdc material but yet to see. a bit passive. no personality but not in a fun kimi raikkonen way

alonso- he’s just here for fun. genuinely don’t think he’s trying to relive glory days. one of the greats but also liiiiittle overrated due to his bravado. amazing defense and even more amazing memes. want to see him attack in a good car again. he def has that dog in him

stroll - why is he still here but also love having someone to hate. did u know his dad has a $200M yacht?

bottas - genuinely heartbroken that he went from number 2 in a winning team to now being a laughing stock. we all know a good car doesn’t guarantee results and he delivered every day in merc while being a great teammate. but also lacks the fire and killer instinct to make anything more of his career

zhou - literally no feelings. no skill, no personality, don’t know why he’s here.

Nico - somehow over and underrated at the same time? the most consistent with good race craft but skill set plateaued years ago. don’t know if he’d deliver in a better car. good overtakes tho

Kevin - love the guy but hard to defend. I think the skill is there he’s just messy and can’t lock in

pierre- great raw talent and super hard worker. can tell he’s good enough to deliver in a midfield/top team. don’t know if he’s wdc material tho

ocon- good talent but the negative narrative built around him is def getting to his head and making him messy. there’s potential but it’s still really deep inside and don’t know if he’d uncover it before it’s too late.

[scarletttries]

NSFW Headcanon Request: Steven Grant (Moon Knight)

Steven Grant (Moon Knight) + Boobs: (prompt list)

Oh Steven, Steven, Steven. It's safe to assume he's never really been given the chance to explore his feelings towards boobs before you come into his life and start to give him the intimacy he's always craved. Don't get me wrong, as a touch starved individual Steven would often think about boobs when they appeared on his screen, or he walked past a woman in a particularly low-cut top, cursing himself for the rush of endorphins hitting his brain and turning his gaze to the skies to try and maintain his view of himself as a gentleman. But he didn't realise just how obsessed he was until it was your boobs he was looking at.

He'd pride himself on making eye-contact all through dinner the first time you came over in a thin camisole, his little flat keeping surprisingly warm in a mild London spring. But when you glanced down to your plate, deep in conversation about the impressive meal he'd prepared, he'd let his eyes drift down with you, landing on the enticing curves of your chest, the slight crease of cleavage enough to have him shifting in his seat and blushing uncontrollably.

When you start making out on his couch that evening you can feel his hands nervously hovering over your ribs, afraid to touch you in any way that might make you uncomfortable, so close to finally feeling the soft skin that called to him all night. Sitting up slightly you'd make a slow and deliberate move to slips the straps of your vest down your shoulders, Steven completely awestruck with every new inch of skin and lace revealed until only your bra was between him and the objects of his affection.

"You can touch me anywhere you want Steven." You'd have to reassure before he'd be confident enough to gently cup your chest in his trembling hands, genuinely unsure if he was going to pass out from excitement as he gave your chest a gentle squeeze. It doesn't matter if you have a small handful or voluminous curves, Steven is absolutely obsessed. He knows you are the most perfect person he'll ever get the company of and when he starts the trace his fingertips over the lace of your bra and you let out a content hum at his touch, he could swear there's never been a beautiful noise in all of history.

When he finally gets the nerve to unclasp your bra, placing it aside with the utmost delicacy and care, his chest is absolutely heaving at the sight of you, boobs exposed to him full for the first time. His own aching pleasure immediately forgotten, his hands would explore you again, cupping and kneading and trying to memorise exactly how soft you feel against his palms. Drinking in the little sighs and gasps he draws from you, he'd notice your reaction to his thumb grazing your nipple, the slight shake of your hips beneath his, making him hungry for more. His lips would trail down your neck until they found the spot that made you moan, tongue tracing circles lightly over one nipple while his hand continued to tease the other, his hips grinding against yours with every involuntary buck. Steven could have spent hours greedily lapping at your chest, but was sadly halted by his own excitement proving too much and filling his shorts the minute you moaned out his name.

From that moment Steven is completely obsessed with your chest, like a teenager discovering porn for the first time. Whenever you're away too long Steven finds himself reliving that moment while he rubs himself up and down in the shower, wishing you were there so he could see the way the suds would slide off your perfect shape as he washed you all over. If you dare to send him a cheeky photo of you topless or even just in a v-neck top, expect Steven to excuse himself to the bathroom asap, or maybe even turn up outside your door looking particularly bedraggled.

As long as you're okay with it, Steven can't really keep his hands off you. You'll try and watch a movie, settled between his legs with your back against his chest, one of his button down shirts wrapped around you when you'll notice buttons gradually getting undone. Once he's got you exposed the film is long forgotten for Steven as he just lets his hands settle on your chest for a moment, comforted by being able to feel you so close, before his own hunger for your stirs and he starts to run his fingers over your stiff nipples, cold in the night air, smiling down at you as your breathing picks up a little, chest starting to rise a little faster, meeting his teasing touch as he licks his fingers before bringing the slick sensation back to your chest. He won't let up until your hips are squirming against his, so sensitive and worked up that you're practically clenching around nothing by the time Steven lets you spin around and climb on top of him, watching in pure ecstasy as your chest bounces every time he thrusts up into you.

Warning somno HC: Steven is always completely conflicted when you sleepover over in one of your little lacey tank tops. He adores when he turns over in the night and sees the strap is half way down your arm, boobs spilling free of the thin fabric while you're sound asleep, unaware of his lustful gaze. But he feels a tinge of shame as he gives into the voices in his head that tell him he should help make sure you're having sweet dreams - carefully shifting down the bed until his tongue can trace over the soft satin skin of your curves, lapping delicately at the sensitive circles until they harden from his attention. He can hear you start to whimper in your sleep when he pulls himself away to lavish the other nipple in just as much attention, kneading the soft mounds as firmly as he can without risking waking you up. When he starts to see your thighs rub together he knows he's got you all worked up, your little brow furrowing in frustration as your pleasure grows with no release in sight. He always stops himself before he goes too far, usually rewarded when you wake up a few minutes later throbbing and sensitive, and Steven gets to listen to you rub your fingers over your sticky folds, clit quickly bringing you to release with a quiet whimper of his name. But he's sure one of these nights you're going to wake up to him deep inside you as he teases your nipples, and you're going to be nothing but grateful.

[islerouxsims]

DIZZY ISY SAVE FILE VERSION 5

Hello!

Here is the fifth version of my Dizzy Isy Save File. I have fixed all the photos and painted animals. It took me forever which is why the French version is not finished. I just don’t have the energy to do it all again. 

Moonwood Mill and Copperdale are now renovated, complete with new lots and families with their own storylines/relationships. Some of the new lots and sims can be seen below. In addition to the new residents, I tried to make sure that the students in Copperdale were populated with well-known teens from my previous versions.

♥ What do you get? ♥

VERSION 1 OF DIZZY ISY (STILL AVAILABLE HERE)

VERSION 2 OF DIZZY ISY (STILL AVAILABLE HERE)

VERSION 3 OF DIZZY ISY (STILL AVAILABLE HERE)

VERSION 4 OF DIZZY ISY (STILL AVAILABLE HERE)

…PLUS…

195 custom clubs and icons (+11 than v.4) with points/rivalries and custom activities.

Lots of details of custom books to find, interesting tombstones, photos with past histories and mysteries etc.

♥ When you enter the save♥

There are 2 empty lots.

There are 17 empty houses (10 starters, 6 under 100k, 1 under 120k).

There are 16 rentals in holiday destinations.

There are 2 free apartments.

Secret lots in Mt. Komerebi renovated.

Selvadorada and Strangerville adventure/mystery unplayed.

Conservation efforts not completed in Sulani.

Evergreen Harbor has many community project opportunities.

Neighbourhood Stories disactivated

___________________________________________________________

It is a busy save file with many lots filled to stop random spawning of townies but the empty lots will soon quickly fill up with townie families if you don’t use them.

The townies are clearly marked in the unplayed tab with the #townies so you know who is meant to have a lot and who isn’t.

___________________________________________________________

♥ What do you need? ♥

❥  ALL THE PACKS apart from Journey to Batuu

❥  Kits used: Fashion Street kit, Incheon Arrivals kit, Desert Luxe and Carnival Streetwear kit

-You can still download this save file without all these packs or kits but some items might be replaced by substitutes, and we all know how those pan out.

❥ 128 MB of free space for this save file.

❥  Zerbu’s More Club Icons Mod (PLEASE DOWNLOAD FIRST!)

(If unavailable to you please download from here)

❥  Rex’s Custom Club Activities Mod (PLEASE ALSO DOWNLOAD BEFORE THE SAVE!)

♥ Recommendations ♥

❥ MC Command Center by Deaderpool.  

❥ No Random Townies by Zero.    

❥ Assign NPCs Roles by Zero to reassign roles if necessary.

♥ How to install? ♥

Make a backup of your Electronic Arts/The Sims 4/Saves folder

Download the file, unzip, and place files in Electronic Arts/The Sims4/Saves.

Open your game, enter the save. It is named “Dizzy Isy Save File By Isleroux and you should see Averie Cromwell who is at high school and it is the beginning of summer. 

Don’t worry, there is no chance of suffering or reliving painful high school memories as Averie is super popular, a cheerleader, loved up with a cute football player and rich. Like old money rich! She even has a bowling alley in her basement. Have fun! If you feel like taking smug little Averie down, feel free to play it that way too :)

___________________________________________________________

DOWNLOAD (SFS)  or  DOWNLOAD (MediaFire)

(REMEMBER TO DOWNLOAD THE CUSTOM CLUB MODS FIRST!!)

**Finally, please, if you enjoy the save and want to support me and future updates,  please consider buying me a coffee ☕

I don’t put my save files behind any kind of paywall even though this is now YEARS of work. I hope to continue like that.

I really appreciate those who have already supported me. I see you. I know who you are. You are the kind of person who bothers to read this far down. So thank you.**

Happy simming!  ~isy~ ツ  

[cmncisspnandmore]

Study Breaks

Pairing: Stiles Stilinski x Reader

Warnings: Smut, Minors DNI, NSWF, Swearing, P in V Sex, Praise kink,

Beta Reader:

When you first met Stiles, you were both in diapers. Your mothers were childhood friends, they did everything together, they were maids of honor at each other's weddings. They found out they were pregnant a month apart, Stiles was older than you by exactly a month. You grew up together, you did everything together. You were there for him when his mom died, you attended the funeral with him. Bravely holding his hand the entire time, you put on a brave face for him when he would cry. You held him in your small arms when he couldn't sleep because he kept reliving the last moments of her life. Watching her fade away, it almost destroyed him.

Now 9 years later, you’re both 17, starting your junior year of highschool. That alone would be enough to make anyone stressed. But the fact that you were constantly dealing with the supernatural beings in Beacon hills on top of it. You were both stressed out. 

Between dealing with Scott being a werewolf, and the Kanima, terrorizing everyone. Plus a certain Hale alpha making a new pack using teenagers. You were about ready to bite someone's head off. Not to mention this year was the most important year grade wize for college. You had no room to fail this year, especially if you wanted to get into a good college. 

You lay across Stiles’ bed, your feet crossed as you look down at the history homework in front of you. The words blur together from staring at it so long. You rub your eyes, sighing softly as you put your head down on the open book. 

“You alright?” Stiles asks, looking over at you from his desk, and you lift your head looking at him.

“I feel like I've been staring at this forever and haven't read a single thing,” you groan, closing the heavy book and shoving it harshly off the side of his bed. It slides to the floor with a heavy thud. 

Stiles grabs his drink from his desk and watches you over the rim of the can, his knee bouncing. “How about we take a break?” He suggests, taking a sip of his soda.

“I can’t, I need to finish,” you sigh, sitting up. “You know how important grades are Junior year.”

Stiles raises an eyebrow at you,”And your sanity is important too. Why don't you take a break and then go back to it? It’ll make you feel better.”

You pull your knees to your chest, looking at him for a moment. You chew your bottom lip as he puts his soda can down on the desk, and swivels in his chair, turning towards you fully. His long legs outstretched as he crosses his arms across his chest. A small smile on his face as he watches you debate it in your head.

After another long moment you let out a breath, “okay, fine.” 

Stiles gives a small cheer as he stands from his chair and comes over to you, settling next to you on the bed. His back against the wall, legs out in front of him.  His shoulder bumps yours and you can't help the smile that breaks out on your face. 

“So what do you want to do? We can watch a movie, or just talk. I feel like i haven't seen you in forever even though we spend almost everyday together. Between everything going on with Scott, Derek, the Kanima, and school. I haven't had time to actually talk to you.” Stiles says softly, as you lay your head on his shoulder. Something you have done a million times, in your years of friendship.

“I know, I feel like it's never just you and me anymore. It’s always you, me and scott. Or you, me, Scott and Allison. I'm honestly surprised one of them hasn't called us tonight to drag us off somewhere to do something.” You whisper, trailing your hand up and down his red hoodie sleeve.

Stiles turns his hand over on the bed, exposing his palm to you, you trace patterns into his palm, something you have done since you were kids. You used to just sit next to him and draw patterns into his skin for hours. It soothed you, now, whenever you and stiles were sitting together, he would turn his hand over so you could draw patterns. It was an instinct for him now, oftentimes not even realizing he had done it.

As your fingers trail along his palm, Stiles leans his head against yours. The vanilla scent of your shampoo, settling the every present anxiety in his chest. He would never admit it out loud, but you were like his own anchor. Whenever you were around, he was able to focus more. He wasn't terrified of the unknown as much when you were around because he knew you would always stay. There wasn't anything he could do that would cause you to run. You have proven that time and time again. It was something Stiles was grateful for, especially lately. 

You turn your head ever so slightly so your cheek is pressed into the soft fabric of his red hoodie. You let your eyes fall closed as you inhale the amber and musk scent of his cologne filling your lungs. Your fingers pause their patterns and you slide your hand into his. Hooking your fingers around his, holding his hand gently. Butterflies erupt in your stomach, sure you have held hands plenty of times. You held Stiles’s hand more than you held your own mothers as a child. But lately, things have felt different between you two.

There had always been the what if thoughts. What if you dated? What if you kissed? What if you were more than best friends? 

There was this underlying tension lately.

Probably because of what Allison and Lydia had said a few weeks ago at lunch. They had mentioned that you would make a cute couple. They were surprised you hadn’t dated already, but you knew Stiles was helplessly in love with Lydia so you laughed it off. 

Stiles had too. 

Until now, when you're sitting shoulder to shoulder, his hand in yours, his fingers tightening around yours ever so slightly. His cheek resting on the top of your head, yours pressed against his shoulder.

“Y/N?” Stiles whispers, and you tip your face up. Your y/e/c eyes meeting his light brown ones. His cheeks slightly pink as he looks down at you.

“Yeah?” You ask softly, your eyes flickering between his, as his flit between your eyes and your mouth. Your heart hammers in your chest as his free hand comes up to cup the side of your face. He slides his hand into the hair at the nape of your neck, his thumb brushing along the top of your cheek bone. Your breath catches in your throat as he leans down, his lips brushing against yours softly.

Your cheeks flame as he kisses you, your eyes sliding closed as he guides you closer with his hand on the back of your neck. You lean forward, pressing your lips against his more as you sigh, your entire body relaxing into him. Your lips move softly against each other, your hands coming to rest against his chest. You fist the fabric of his hoodie, as you drag him closer. Stiles shifts, laying you back against the bed, holding himself over you with his arms. His hips settled against yours, as he nips softly at your bottom lip. Eliciting a small moan from you, Stiles smiles against your lips. 

He pulls away slightly, breathless as he looks down at you. You can't help but blush and smile, trying to catch your breath. 

“Are you okay with this?” He whispers.

“More than…” You whisper, leaning up and capturing his lips in yours again. Your hands slide under his hoodie and shirt, your nails skimming across his stomach. The muscles flex and tense under your hands. Soft moans leave your lips as he nips and sucks on your bottom lip. Stiles hand grazes the bottom of your shirt and you gasp, as his fingers dig into the soft flesh of your waist. 

Sparks of electricity sizzle across your skin as Stiles’ fingers skim up your waist to brush along the skin of your ribcage. You tug the bottom of his shirt and Stiles sits up on his knees, settled between your spread thighs as he pulls his shirt and hoodie off in one smooth movement. You bite your lip as your eyes rake over his chest and abs, he was lean, with defined muscles from playing Lacrosse. Even though he didn't get much time on the field during games he still stayed in shape. 

Stiles leans down and kisses you once more before he tugs your shirt up slightly, and you lean up on your elbows. Balancing in a half sit up position as you tug your shirt up and over your head. Leaving you in your lacey black bra, Stiles lets out a small groan as his eyes trail down your chest. 

“Fuck, you’re beautiful,” he whispers as he leans down, kissing you roughly. There's more passion behind the kiss as his arms rest on either side of your head. The kiss becomes a flurry of clashing teeth and tongue. 

Somewhere along the line you both end up under his sheets, bodies bare of clothes. Stiles hovers over you, his knees between your thighs. Stiles trails a line of kisses down your neck, nipping softly at the skin there. You moan softly, as one of his hands skims down your chest between the valley of your breasts towards your stomach. His fingers brush along your waist as before his fingers slip between your folds. 

“Stiles… Please,” You whimper, your eyes closed tight as he eases a finger into you. Slowly he begins to thrust his finger in and out of you, working you until you’re breathless.

“Shhh baby, gotta open you up for me first.. Don't want to hurt you,” he whispers against your ear. His tongue flicks out to trace the shell of your ear, as he adds a second finger. Your slick coats his fingers, each thrust of his fingers inside of you makes the pleasure pooling in your lower stomach coil tighter. 

“Look at you, so wet for me,” Stiles whispers,”Such a good girl,” 

You can't help the lude whimper that leaves your mouth, you reach down, hands wrapping around his wrist, stopping his movements. 

“Please, i need you,” You pant, turning your head towards him, your tongue licking along your bottom lip. Stiles smiles down at you, before leaning in and kissing your full lips. His lips leave yours a second later, as he reaches over to his nightstand and pulls open the top drawer. He grabs a foil packet and holds it between his teeth. You watch through half lidded eyes as He sits up, the sheet falling from around him. 

Stiles tears the condom open with his teeth, before rolling it down his long, thick cock. Your mouth waters as you watch, you attempt to squeeze your thighs together to create some friction. Stiles’ eyes meet yours and he resumes his position, hovering over you. One hand gripping the base of his cock as he settles between your thighs. He slowly pushes forward, the tip of his cock bumping against your entrance. He slowly sinks into you, a low moan rumbles in his chest. 

“Fuck, Stiles.” You gasp as he bottoms out, filling you. There's a delicious burn as he slowly starts to thrust in and out of you.

“Fuck baby, you’re so tight.” Stiles grunts as he picks up his pace, his hips hitting yours with each thrust. 

“Don't stop,” You gasp as you grab the sides of Stiles’s face, bringing his lips to yours for a brief kiss. Stiles’s head drops into the crook of your neck as he pants against your skin. A layer of sweat clings to his skin, as his hips hit yours in a bruising pace. 

Your nails rake down his back leaving red nail tracks across his pale skin. You’re reduced to nothing more than breathy moans as your orgasm peaks. Stiles senses your closeness and snaps his hips against yours harder. The hard thrust of his hips tips you over the edge. Your orgasm crashes into you with a loud moan of his name.

Stiles’s thrusts become sloppy, as his own orgasm teeters on the edge. You lean up and kiss and suck along his neck to his ear. “Let go baby, please, come for me.” you whisper in his ear and Stiles’s thrusts a few more times before he stills inside of you. His cock twitching as he spills into the condom. 

Stiles pants and pulls out of you, before he climbs off the bed and cleans himself up, he grabs a towel and hands it to you. You clean yourself up before throwing it off to the side and laying back on the bed. Stiles grabs a pair of boxers and pants and pulls them on before handing you your underwear. You pull them on and then reach over grabbing his hoodie off the floor before Sitles climbs into the bed. He lays behind you and pulls you back against his chest. His hands snaking under the hoodie and his palm rests flat against your lower stomach. His arm anchors you in place. 

“See, I told you taking a break from studying would be worth it,” he whispers in your ear.

‘Mmm, totally worth it…” You whisper as your eyes flutter closed.

[royaletiquette]

Some retconning I've been hammering out for Hibis fantasy/historical verse: they don't support use of magic in Edo because it directly counteracts their belief of respecting nature and the forces of it.

Magic is seen as abusing and manipulating the spirits that contribute to a "natural" way of life. Moving things telekinetically, manipulating organic life like fire, water, nature, it's incredibly disrespectful, messing with the purity and balance of how life and nature are destined to play out.

So, on a personal basis, it's shamed socially in Edo. Enter kingdoms that embrace magic and they are only ever political partners, reluctantly. They aren't welcomed blindly as other kingdoms, but they also aren't rejected to the point of risking enemies.

[asystolenheart]

🫀‼️DAMINIKA WEEK PROMPT VOTING WILL BEGIN TOMORROW‼️🫀

Everyone who participated in Flatline Week 2024 was messaged to submit prompt ideas for Daminika Week, now everyone who participated will be able to vote for 12 prompts they want to follow for Daminika Week !! The following are all the prompt ideas submitted, we wanted to give those who are voting time to decide what they will vote for, voting begins at the end of this timer.

Reunion -

Prom / School Dance -

Band AU -

Painter x Muse -

Comfort -

Beach Day / Beach -

Goodbyes -

Alternative Styles (emo, grunge, goth, v-kei / visual kei) -

Cartoon -

Historical Era (pick your favorite period in history and draw damian and nika in it) -

Funko Pop -

Cottage Core -

Video Game -

Gala / Formal -

Festival / Parade -

Manga Shopping -

My Chemical Romance -

Traditional Clothing -

Selfies - Amusement Park -

K-Pop -

Meeting the Family -

Training -

Pets / Animals -

Cosplay or Halloween Costume -

Vocaloid -

Genderbend / Gender Swap, or GL (Girl's Love) / BL (Boy's Love) -

Casual / Civilian -

Batmobile Joyride -

Horror Movie -

Neopets -

Role Reversal -

Royalty x Pirate -

Angel x Demon -

Dinner with the Al Ghul's -

JonJay Double Date -

First Date / Day Out -

Celebrity x Singer -

Vampire x Hunter -

Outfit Swap / Costume Swap -

Snow Day -

Stargazing -

Mythology -

Sharing Slushies (or ICEEs or Slurpies works too) -

Pocky Challenge -

Trick or Treat -

Ice Skating -

Cooking / Baking -

Dictionary (find a word and its meaning and make content of Damian and Nika based on that) -

Music (make content based on lyrics that remind you of Damian and Nika) -

Dancing -

Picnic -

Patrol Night / Fighting Together -

Concert -

Stolen Heart -

Texting each other -

Drawing (Damian and Nika drawing each other or together) -

Indie Horror Game -

Meister and Weapon (Soul Eater) -

In Every Universe (soulmates) -

Pining -

Phone Call -

Sunset -

Team Up With Other Heroes -

Spending Holidays Together -

In Beast World -

Trying each others traditional food -

Styling each others clothes -

Matching Outfits -

Twitter Post's -

Fursona -

My Little Pony / Pony Design -

Panel Redraw -

Time Loop AU (Nika and Damian stuck in a time-loop reliving the same day over and over again) -

Royalty AU

School AU / High School AU / Academic Rivalry -

Detective AU / Damian Vane x Nika Noir -

Paranormal AU -

Fairy Tale AU -

Damian's Shoujo Manga AU -

Shoujo Manga AU -

Medieval AU -

Body Swap AU -

Bodyguard AU -

Vampire AU -

Karaoke Night -

Flowers or Flower Picking -

Zoo Visit -

League of Assassins -

Future Self -

Long Distance -

Sanrio -

Monster High -

!!Selecting more than 12 prompts on the voting form will result in an error and you will not be able to submit your vote!!

These are all fan submitted prompts and we thank everyone who took the time and submitted prompt ideas <3

-Flatline Week Team

[achy-boo]

Dominique De Luca

Sapphire Lake Dorm's only Master.

A boy with secrets that is too disturbing to heard or talk about

Never ask or mention his bloodied camera..

Name: Dominique De Luca

Romaji: De Luca Dominique

Quote: "Is it wrong to take a photo of every..single..thing just to keep the memories forever?"

V/A: HiMERU from Enstars(Japanese), Lyney from Genshin(English)

Gender: male

Sexuality: Bisexual demiromatic

Age: 23

Birthday: March 12th

Zodiac Sign: Pisces

Eye color: gold with a grey aim mark on one eye and an x on the other eye

Ha Color: dark blue(before TWST) a grey and light blue duo color hair (After TWST)

Height: 6'6ft

Weight: 120 lbs

Race: Human????

Homeland: Strasbourg, France

Family:

Unknown French Mother(Deceased/Murdered)

Unknown Italian Father(Deceased/Murdered)

School Status and Fun Facts

Dorm: Sapphire Lake Dorm

School Year: he had to repeat 2nd year due to…an incident

Class: 2-A

Student Number: No.38

Occupation: Florist/Photographer(Part time)

Club: Photography club

Best Subject: History

Favorite Color: Funny enough he loves pastel colors

Favorite Food: Paris-brest

Least Favorite Food: He does not like pecan pie and pumpkin pie(It is the taste of it)

Likes: Desserts, Food, music, coffee or tea, photography, rainy/cloudy days, trying new food, children, watching movies at 3am, anime, manhwa

Dislikes: He hates bitter food/drinks, heat, summer, Crowley(depends), people asking or mention his bloodied camera, reliving his past

Hobbies: drawing, listening to music, drinking tea in the rainy days, photography(this is very important later on)

Talents: Empathy to apathy depends on the situation, silver tongue, blackmailing

Nicknames: Sapphire Lake’s Master(Original Title) France’s Ghost Face(Formal/Never heard in NRC)

Other Nicknames: Domi(Tsukii) Quince(Dawn, Deuce), Mimi(Only the kids and Kianisha can call him that)

Appearance and Personality

Appearance: Dominque De Luca stands at 6'6 and a half with grey and light blue duo color long hair that reach his knee length, golden eyes with one had a grey aim mark on one eye and a x on the other. He has dark tan skin with two marks on his face(It is removable btw), In Sapphire Lake Dorm, he wears a gothic baggy clothes however he is very fit and muscular under it. He have four tattoos and three piercings(He is more silent about them). One of his signature items is the chains around his right arm.

Personality: Dominique is what people call him. A good package deal. Meaning that you will have to deal with his constant mood changes depending on the person who he is with. Dominique is flirty(HELLA flirty) but he knows his limits. Bro is sadistic in general when it came to words or actions. However due to him being Sapphire Lake’s only Master, he learn to held off the urge until he gets the green light. Other than that, he is one very interesting guy.

𝑻𝒓𝒊𝒗𝒊𝒂

He is the only one in 2nd years that have a deep connection with the Libya Family due to him being friends with Valerian and Ambrose Libya(Ambrose is a boy btw)

He had two photographic cameras(one is forbidden to mention or even ask about it)

He is more protective if you get to know him

He had scars on his back

he is very fit and muscular underneath the baggy clothing he wears

He prefers baggy clothes( But skin tight clothes is fine by him)

He lets the others do his hair(He lets Vil, Crewel and Tsukii chooses his aesthetic

He used to be a RSA student but bride Crowley to never tell anyone but Sapphire Lake Dorm about that

The Dark Mirror has to look into his soul 4 times to confirm which dorm he belongs too

His main aesthetic is Gothic Victorian

He has veiny arms and hands

Scream for the Camera

“Pictures held a thousand words and stories so look at the camera and make your loudest screams. Scream for the camera!!”

Dominique's UM and its involves his bloodied camera. The UM is about you being your childhood/ favorite places and Dominique taking pictures of said places but each picture get more and more terrifying as time past. The pictures will involves your worst fears and regrets until a unidentified killer appears and the real nightmare begins. You will be chased by said killer as you tried to escape while agonizing and blood curling screams was heard constantly. You have 30 minutes to find a camera and snapped the picture of anything until its too late. What happens after you failed? Then you will see Dominique in front of you with a malicious smile and take a picture before...and after your brutal demise.

The skull in the camera is the final moments of the person's life before they are never waking up.

@yukii0nna @queen-of-twisted @sweetlyvibe @lxdymoon0357 @yumeko2sevilla @kousaka-ayumu @yoghurtsan @aventxsha @txemptress

[bizaar]

Cruel Summer - Part 16

First - Previous - Next

pairings: Eddie Munson x fem!reader

summary: After breaking up, you and Eddie do your best to soldier on with your lives, but you slowly begin to discover that there is a stronger line of connection keeping you together than just history…

word count: 9.5k

warnings: angst, swearing, horror descriptors, TW: violence/blood, major character death (f o r g i v e m e)

A.N.: here we go kids...

Eddie lies to himself that he knows what he’s doing, that this is all still part of the plan, and that things are not as well and truly fucked as they actually are. 

A bigger part of him than he is willing to acknowledge is screaming at him to turn back, to do the smart thing for once, and save his miserable hide, but there is only one clear path for him, as suicidal as it may be. 

You’d told him this wasn’t the type of thing he was going to be able to save you from if things took a turn for the worse, and part of him agreed with you – that’s the part of him that he’s imagining is ringing the alarm bells right now, but self-preservation be damned, he’s never been the kind of person to make “smart choices” and he’s not about to start now. 

He’s going to get you out of here and back through to the other side, even if it kills him.

The bats are stuck to the outside of the trailer like so many screeching winged barnacles when Eddie bursts through the door, flying down the steps and across the lawn toward where the Wheeler’s bikes are still laying in a jumble on the front lawn. 

It’s something that on the other side of the world would be so banal – the indication of a gathering of friends, everyone piled into someone’s living room to play Atari or watch tv, the tell-tale sign of a camaraderie that Eddie has been denied his whole life. 

Here and now, it’s just a means to an end. When he gets the bike, he’ll whip out to the highway where the van is parked on the shoulder, where you’ll be tucked safely away, waiting for him, despite how the horrendous cacophony they’d sat listening to tells him otherwise.

He tells himself you’re going to be there because you have to be. You’ll be there and you’ll be okay, you’re going to make it through this no matter what.

No matter what.    

He’s not sure what he’s supposed to do once he finds you, but that’s not important right now. Right now, he’s just got to get to the bikes in one piece.  

Eddie was never really the kind of kid who rode bikes. 

He was the kid who sat in his room all summer, teaching himself to play guitar, teaching himself to draw, trying to mold himself into the type of person he thought the kids on his block would want to be friends with, not the shape of the social pariah they were steadily forcing him into.

Eddie wasn’t the kind of kid who rode bikes growing up because, beyond the fact that all the other kids in his neighborhood went around treating him like he was diseased, he didn’t learn how to ride one until he was ten years old, which had been a starkly humiliating experience he doesn’t relish in reliving. 

The wheels feel shaky and untrustworthy as Eddie pulls the bike up and swings his leg over, but sticky pedals and screeching gears are nothing compared to the cloud of teeth whirling overhead in a morbid murmuration. 

He tries not to think about that or scraped knees and elbows as he wipes at the blood still oozing from the gash in his forehead – it stings unpleasantly as the motion pulls at the torn flesh there. 

Eddie didn’t feel the bat’s teeth when they pierced his flesh, but he sure as hell felt them scrape along the ridge of his skull – worse than that, he heard it. He knows he’s going to need stitches, that it’s gonna leave a scar and he’s gonna have to grow his hair longer to cover it up – he doesn’t have time to be worried about that, because the bats were always going to get through into the trailer. 

The same old fatalist part of himself he’s never been able to tune out always knew that the same way it always knew you were going to end up in the van – always expect the worst to happen and you’ll never be disappointed when it does.

Still, he’s bleeding a lot, and he knows he should probably be concerned about that, but if there’s one useless thing Eddie learned in the brief time Al Munson spent single parenting him – and most everything he ever learned from that man has been more or less useless – it’s that “head wounds bleed,”. He’d told him as much in a rare moment of fatherly clarity while tending to his cuts and bruises after breaking up a fight between Eddie and another boy.

It made him angry at the time, mostly because there was never a time in those handful of years when he wasn’t violently angry at his father, and any advice he was sure to give him was tantamount to bullshit, but here and now that almost seems like wisdom.

Maybe it’s because he’s scared shitless and ever so slightly concussed, but Eddie repeats the words like a mantra as he drops down over a curb and pedals like a shaky, uncoordinated madman. 

He pedals and tries not to become overwhelmed with the sudden memory of flowery training wheels and iridescent tassels and the monstrously pink bicycle his mother had borrowed from their six-year-old neighbor in an effort to teach him to ride that Saturday afternoon in the spring of ‘76, when his reputation went it’s grave. 

Word travels fast in Hawkins, and by 2 pm that day, all the neighborhood boys had turned out to watch Eddie Munson attempt to ride a little girl’s bike with his mother tailing after him, fruitlessly shouting instructions on how not to crash.

Easier said than done — that endeavor cost him two teeth and what meager savings they had in dentist’s bills. 

Two years later, she was dead, and those same shitty boys took advantage of the open wound of Eddie’s grief, luring him out of the house with the promise of the summertime camaraderie he so desired.

Naturally, it was nothing but a great big joke to them, and it ended spectacularly with the lot of them riding out to the plant to throw things into the industrial crusher – rocks, cans, a basketball one of them had managed to balance on their handlebars the whole way, and Eddie’s bike – the one he’d received for his birthday only a few months earlier. 

It was a rusty old Schwinn that Wayne had paid twenty bucks for at a garage sale in Bloomington, and decidedly uncool compared to the tricked-out BMX bikes all the other boys rode, but that didn’t make it hurt any less to lose it. 

Eddie vividly remembers the sickening sensation that settled over him as he stood there, helplessly watching the angry metal teeth crunch the last of its spokes into oblivion – his prized possession, gone in one instant of shocking violence.

Of course, looking back now, it’s painfully obvious that this was those boys’ intention all along, to take something precious from him, scare him, and force him further from their ranks into the fringes where he exists now. 

Eddie doesn’t last long on the bike before one of the bats kamikazes itself in the spokes, sending him flipping headfirst over the handlebars. He lands hard on his shoulder and feels something pop – that’s never a good sign – but he doesn’t stay down, because he’s got seconds before the bats descend, and he’s not sure you have even that much time. 

Eddie runs the rest of the way, quickly shucking off his spear and shield because it’s hard enough to run in combat boots when you haven’t been chain-smoking since you were fourteen, and they’re only slowing him down. 

He’ll worry about protecting himself later, right now he needs all the help and speed he can get. 

That night, after losing his bike to the crusher, Eddie lay in bed crying an endless tide of silent tears over it. Little pearls of young desperation streaked down into his ears as he did his best to stifle his sniffles – not because of the loss of the bike or the hell he caught over it when he ended up having to call his father to come and pick him up, or even because he had been stupid enough to think those boys really wanted to be friends with him. 

It was because he had nothing, and somehow, they still managed to take something from him. 

Eddie’s never had a lot of things that are expressly his, and what he does have he’s had to work for. A helluva lot of blood sweat and tears earned him the van, his guitar, and you – the van is gone, Sweetheart too for all he knows, but you…? 

He’s not going to let this place take you from him, not while he’s still standing. 

Eddie crashes through the trees and into the underbrush, not giving a damn where he sets his feet down or whether Vecna knows he’s there — because if the Dark Lord Fucker isn’t wise to something funky going on in his domain by now, then they’ve got bigger problems than the bats or the hivemind. 

These woods feel different, darker, denser — dangerous. It’s not the same as they were when he was walking along, having his silly little heart-to-heart with Steve.

Maybe it’s because this is a different patch of woodland, or maybe just because the urgency to get through them is through the roof, but it leaves him feeling like he’s running in place, treading water, that the road is getting further away with every step he takes and he’s never going to make it to you.

Eddie’s always been decent with direction – living your whole life in the same town comes with the benefit of basically always knowing where you are but crashing through the woods like this, he’s operating on dead reckoning. He’s running on a hope and prayer, which is a dangerous game considering that God’s never liked him much. 

He runs until he begins to feel a deep and existential paranoia that he’s gone too far, or worse, that he’s headed in the wrong direction. It causes his inner compass to spin erratically with woeful doubt, and just as he starts to ask himself whether he ought to double back, the trees break, and there stands that same lonely stretch of road, sky wheeling overhead. 

Everything is more or less exactly as it had been back on the other side, including the stark absence of the van. 

Eddie’s heart drops into his ass as he comes to a skidding halt on the cracked and ruined asphalt. 

He spins in wild desperate circles looking for any sign of what happened here, where you could have possibly gone, because it’s not that the van is missing altogether — there is in fact a great deal of evidence scattered across the road to suggest that, up until very recently, it was exactly where he’d left it in November of 1983 when time came to a screeching halt. 

That evidence comes in the form of broken glass, smashed vines and debris, bits of twitching little bodies, since crushed and torn asunder beneath the mass of something roughly the size of an eight-thousand-pound Chevrolet Beauville Sportvan. 

Somehow, that is worse than if it had never been here in the first place, because of what it suggests: that you ran for safety only to find yourself headed straight for a metal death trap. 

It makes his blood run cold. 

The debris trails heavily across the road, easily followed from one side to the other, over the asphalt, through the trees, and down a steep embankment.

There at the bottom lies the van, crushed and misshapen on its side, spattered in the results of its quick and violent departure from the road.  

Eddie feels his legs go wobbly and his guts seize as a cold sweat breaks out across his brow. Suddenly he’s torn between hoping with every fiber of his being that you aren’t inside and praying irrationally to any deity who might be listening that you’re down there.

He doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do if you’re not — he can’t imagine trailing back to the gate empty-handed. 

If you’re not down there, he’s not leaving this place until he finds you, that’s for damn sure. 

Slowly, a sound reaches him and Eddie realizes with a start that he can hear something coming from the van – the faint and broken tinge of a voice, someone calling out. 

He slips and stumbles in the underbrush as he goes down the embankment at a pace, following the path the van carved into the earth when it evidently rolled. 

The windows are all blown out, and in their absence, the voice continues to eke out into the still, heady air, growing louder as Eddie gets closer.

It’s something out of a recurring nightmare he thinks he’s had, some variation of you being thrust into a terrible danger he’s powerless to save you from — it feels like losing you at a party in a sea of people who have nothing but the worst intentions for him — for you.

Eddie shouts your name on instinct, cringing at the sound of his own desperate voice bouncing back at him – and then, terrifyingly, something mimics him, and shouts your name right back, crunchy and chewed up through static, like a voice being fed through a paper shredder. 

It doesn’t take him long to recognize it.

It’s Dustin, calling you over the walkie-talkie, desperately crying your name and trying to get you to answer him. 

“—Eddie didn’t follow me through the gate!” He wails, speaking so quickly and frantically Eddie can barely understand him, “H-he cut the rope – I don’t know where he’s going! Oh, God, oh, Jesus! – If you’re there, pick up! Please–” 

Little fucking narc. Eddie thinks, gritting his teeth against the twinge of annoyance that blooms in him over being told on. 

He swallows the feeling in favor of shouting your name again, long and loud, stretching it almost past the point of recognition. 

This time, you answer. 

“...I’m here…” You call weakly from somewhere behind him – inside the van, Eddie realizes with a start.

He can’t decide if he’s relieved, considering how weak the sound is. 

He’s at the back doors before you finish speaking, and his heart jumps up into his throat when no amount of tugging garners any sort of movement, smashed and bent out of shape as the doors are.   

Even pulling as hard as he can, Eddie can’t get them to budge.

It takes him far too long to remember that the doors at the back are not the only point of entry to the vehicle, and when he does, he scrambles around to the side, heart spasming erratically against his ribs as you call out to him again.

Your voice is tiny and fragile, and suddenly you sound like you’re about to break into a hundred tiny pieces. 

“Eddie…?”

“I’m coming!” He chokes, bracing himself on his hands to hoist up onto the side of the van tilted up to the sky.

He tries to think light thoughts as he sits on his toes, perched on the runner and fumbling with the handle of the side panel door.

“I’m coming, Baby, just – just gimme a second to get this door–” 

He tugs on it with the same force he’d exerted to no use at the back and cuts himself off with a startled yelp as it slides open with no resistance. Eddie very nearly topples over backward into the dirt, narrowly avoiding the door as it snaps off its hinges and whips past him, crashing down into the underbrush with a thunderous cacophony. 

He grits his teeth against the sound and watches as it bounces and rolls off to disappear into the brush with a heavy thud. 

Something is bound to have heard that, and if he wasn’t on a ticking clock before, he certainly is now. He’s got to get you and get out of here, figure out what his next move is before anything can come circling back around to finish the job.

When Eddie turns his attention back to the belly of the van, there you are, pushing up from where you lay on your side in a bed of broken glass and twisted metal – he’s never been happier to see you, considering the circumstances. 

He drops down into the carcass of the van and lands beside you as softly as he can manage in steel-toed combat boots. 

“Hey–” Eddie says, resting a tentative hand on your hip as you push up from the crumpled heap you’re lying in. “Baby... Sweetheart, are you okay? Come on, talk to me.” 

You shake your head like you’re trying to clear a fog that has descended over your senses and press the heel of your palm against your forehead, making a pitiful sound as you do.

“Okay – I changed my mind,” You groan. “I don’t wanna be bait anymore.” 

His hands migrate up to brace against your arms, trying in vain to steady you as you rock back into a seated position. You suck in a sharp breath and hold it, eyes screwed shut as you work through something – pain? Confusion? He can’t tell, and he can’t express how much that scares him.

“So, I guess this is the part where you tell me you told me so,” 

Eddie surprises himself by laughing – a short wet bark that is just a little too loud in this enclosed space.

“You bet your ass I did.” He says, trying his best to sound easy, like maybe if he can laugh about this it won’t seem so bad.

It’s your turn to laugh then, a shaky exhale through the nose tinged ever so slightly with your typical mirth. And then you just sit there for a long moment, breathing in, breathing out, like you’re trying to center yourself or come back to yourself, or something, before you finally heave a sigh. 

It takes you a moment longer to open your eyes, and when you do, your gaze flits up to meet his.

Your eyes immediately go wide, and it’s only then that Eddie remembers he doesn’t look so hot himself. 

“Eddie – Oh, my God!” You gasp, reaching up to push his bandana back. “What happened?”

The material shifts with a gritty drag that sends a shiver of discomfort rocking through Eddie’s body. 

“Nah, I’m okay.” Eddie says quickly, catching your hand and squeezing your fingers in a way he hopes is reassuring, “You oughta see the other guy.”

Then, just to show you it’s okay, he wipes the back of his hand across the cut on his forehead, growing sticky as the blood finally begins to coagulate. Eddie’s not willing to admit that he’s relieved about that, or that he’d seriously started to worry that these bats have some kind of anticoagulant in their saliva, like normal vampire bats only turned up to eleven.

How stupid would it have been to bleed out before he could even get you out of here?  

You eye him warily, seemingly unsatisfied with the display, but unwilling to argue. 

“Come on, we gotta get out of here – can you stand, Sweetheart?”

“I think so…” You say, bracing yourself against the way Eddie snakes his hands under your arms and gently eases you up onto your feet. “Ah– shit!” 

You flinch and tense under his touch, causing Eddie’s insides to tighten with the fear of hurting you. He has to remind himself not to immediately release you, lest he drop you back among the broken glass and debris. 

“Sorry!” Eddie says immediately, but you’re already shaking your head, refusing any sort of apology he might offer.

He knows he ought to be treating you with kid gloves especially if you were in this thing when it crashed and rolled like he highly suspects you were. He doesn’t know what's wrong with you, where you’re hurt, and he doesn't want to do something to inadvertently make a bad situation worse.

“What hurts, Babes? Your arm? Your ribs…?”

“My leg.”  You hiss, craning your neck to look down at the thing – Eddie follows your gaze and notices the blood too late.

Big thick rivulets of it, streaking down to slick the inside of your thighs a bright and sticky crimson. It’s a lot of blood – too much blood, he might say if he was allowing himself to think about that, which he isn’t. Still, it takes him a panicky moment to find the source of the bleeding, and when he does his breath catches in his throat. 

There, tied off around your upper thigh, is what he can only imagine is a piece of your shirt, torn off and fashioned into a tourniquet. The flesh below it is split into a long, jagged slice, lazily oozing over the expanse of your exposed skin. Eddie feels his stomach heave as he realizes he can see the faintest hint of muscle and sinew there.

He can’t get the words out to properly ask you what happened, but he sees the source of the wound before he has the time to really get worried about that. A thick, jagged piece of glass sits at your feet, at least four inches in length, and two of those inches are coated in a slick layer of blood – your blood. 

Oh… shit.  

He swallows hard in a lame attempt at regaining a bit of composure. 

“What – uh – what do you need me to do here?” Eddie asks uselessly, feeling his mouth go dry.

The long and short of it? You need his belt to tie a better tourniquet, and while Eddie has never thought twice about unbuckling his belt for you, his fingers are trembling so badly as he fumbles with getting it unnotched and pulling it from his jeans that he nearly drops it twice before he gets it free. 

He hates himself for the way you hiss out in pain when he slips the belt up over your thigh and pulls it tight – tighter even when you tell him to. 

Eddie does as he’s told, despite his reluctance to hurt you, because you clearly know better than he does.

“How’s that–how’s it feel?” He asks once the belt is notched and looped, tight enough to cause your skin to discolor in places.  

He’s on his knees in front of you now, eyes flitting back and forth between his work and your face, hands hovering aimlessly over the spot like he half expects it to spring a leak like some kind of rusty pipe.

“Tight.” You say through gritted teeth, and when Eddie feels his brows come together in concern, you shake your head and assure him that “Tight is good.” 

After that, working together you manage to coax the back doors to fall open with a thunderous crash that has Eddie sucking in a tense breath. Your ticking clock is steadily running out, and he’s only thankful that you can more or less stand on your own two feet and walk yourself out of there. 

Still, he has to carry you up the embankment, bridal style with your legs tucked over his arm – he’s hyper-aware of every one of his movements as he goes, suddenly so paranoid that any wrong step is going to tear something and set you to bleeding again.  

Over the black river of pavement and through the woods, back toward home, you go – slowly, step after agonizing step you lean heavily on Eddie and hobble to safety. One foot in front of the other, baby steps one might even say – it’s agonizingly slow going, but it’s distance all the same. 

The further you go, the more Eddie can’t help but start to fool himself that things are going to be okay – you’re going to make it.   

He should know better than to hope for something like that. 

Eddie doesn’t notice the bats at first, he’s too busy watching you for any sign of distress, and as a result, he only realizes something is wrong when he sees you stop short and recoil. Your eyes widen in fear and you gasp through your teeth, then he follows your gaze and sees them. 

Like they knew he was going to eventually have to come back this way, like they’d just been waiting for him, there they are. Hundreds of bats, maybe even thousands, swirling and ducking and diving, a cloud of teeth and claws and winged screeching death swirling overhead. 

“Eddie–” You gasp, fisting your hands in the side of his vest and trying your damnedest to tuck yourself in behind him. 

“It’s okay – it’s gonna be okay.” He says, doing his best to swallow his own fear because how can that be expressly true when you can’t run? 

How are you supposed to make it out of this one? The sobering truth settles in the pit of his stomach, cold and heavy like a rock, threatening to pull him down into the depths of sickening realization: you’re not. 

Holy, shit. He can’t help but think. We’re going to die down here. 

Strangely, Eddie can’t stop thinking about that moment back in the boat house with danger bearing down on the pair of you – he’d stressed that you had to get the fuck out of there, right now, and you’d more or less agreed … only, not the both of you.

There will be no more running for Eddie the Banished… 

If he can buy you some time, find a way to lure the bats away from you, maybe you can make it back to the gate – but there lies the problem with your being unable to walk without his support. It’s a terrible conundrum, how to give his life to save yours when you need to use him as a crutch? He’ll burn that bridge when he comes to it.

“What are we gonna do … Eddie?” 

 Eddie twists to face you then, taking your face in both hands. 

“Hey, look at me – we’re gonna be fine, we're gonna walk—”

“We’re not gonna make it!” you say in a clipped, panicked tone, eyes wide and reeling in their sockets as he holds you firmly to the spot and forces you to look at him. 

“Doesn’t matter.” He says immediately, shaking his head, “We gotta try. So, we’re just gonna walk, okay? One foot in front of the other.”

You shake your head. 

“They’re gonna see us.”

Eddie nods slowly.

“Yeah— yeah, they’re gonna see us, but it’s gonna be okay. Listen to me. Whatever happens, it’ll be okay ... you trust me right?"

"I trust you." You say slowly.

He rolls his shoulders in a shrug he hopes is half as calm and casual as it feels.

"So let's just walk, see what happens."

“...Okay.” 

If he thought your pace before was slow, this is like trudging through wet cement. One foot after the other, just like he said, you make your way out into the open.

Eddie does his best not to breathe and he squeezes you tight against him, doing his best to sync your steps and hold as much of your weight as he can take without outright carrying you. 

You get barely half a minute of peace out in the open before razor-sharp claws come flying down to rake the side of your face and send you staggering with a strangled scream.

Eddie manages to keep you upright, but only just, and he barely has time to decide where to go let alone process what the hell just happened before you’re hit again, this time from the right.

It’s actually astounding the way he’s already doing such a bad job at this – he came out here to protect you, didn’t he? Save you? 

Maddeningly, no amount of thrashing or shouting seems to draw the bats' attention to him, like he’s not even there. He tries to put himself in front of you to act as some sort of a buffer against the attack as they swarm, but the bats just keep coming, and in the end, all he can do is pull you along at a staggering pace to try and keep the bats off of you.

In the distance, Eddie suddenly spies the discarded spear and shield lying in a heap and he feels the tips of his fingers sting with adrenaline. Suddenly, there’s a chance.  

Forget the gate, if he can just get you to that shield, maybe he can protect you.

He turns to tell you the new plan just in time to see you enveloped in a pair of wings, and in a moment, your fingers slip from his.

“Shit– no–!”

“Eddie!” 

Before he can grab you, something grips Eddie’s ankle and wrenches him off of his feet. He hits the ground and scrambles to try and find purchase on the pavement, blunt fingernails splintering in the earth as he’s dragged backward, away from you. 

You’re wide-eyed, mouth hanging open in a silent scream as you reach for him – fingers just miss each other, and then you’re gone as Eddie is wrenched away and you disappear into a cloud of flapping wings.

Oh, my God — Jesus fucking Christ, this can’t be happening, he thinks watching the frantic thrashing heap where you had been only a moment before.

That’s supposed to be him getting swarmed, not you…  you’re supposed to make it… he’s supposed to save you — he’s got to save you.

Eddie kicks out and thrashes until his boots come away and he is free of whatever it is that has a hold of him. He scrambles to get his socked feet underneath him, but before he can straighten up he is hit again, hard enough in the back to send him sprawling forward. 

His chin strikes the pavement, and stars burst across his vision. Eddie tastes copper as his mouth begins to fill with blood, but all of that is immediately secondary to the way his lungs have flattened in his chest and no amount of effort will inflate them again – he can’t breathe. 

He can count the number of fights he’s been in on one hand, and most of those ended with him on the ground getting kicked in the ribs— this feels a lot like that. 

In a slow, jerky motion, Eddie tries to curl in on himself, to protect the softer, more fragile parts of his body from any sort of real damage.

He’s too stunned from having the wind knocked out of him, and before he can tuck in and bring his knees up to his chest, he’s wrenched over onto his back by that same violent force that pulls him off his feet moments before.

In an instant, he’s spread taught like a pinned moth, arms and legs pulled nearly to the point of hyperextension, facing the sky as the bats lay him out.

There’s nothing he can do, no amount of kicking and thrashing to try and free himself this time. He’d barely held his own against one of these monstrous little fuckers back in the hall outside of his bedroom, there is nothing Eddie can do when half a dozen descends.

His mind begins spinning in desperately frantic circles, trying to work its way out of this – somebody’s coming to his rescue, right? Any second Steve or somebody much braver than him is going to come riding in to save his ass and pull him out of the fire. Somebody is coming – he’s not going to die like this, he’s not going to be eaten…

It takes them a moment to get through the padding of the army-grade vest, long enough that Eddie’s lungs finally inflate again, and gasping in a greedy intake of air, he manages to get one arm free enough to wrench his elbow down toward his midsection. The motion dislodges the bat tearing at him, preventing it from getting at his insides, but it leaves his throat exposed in the process.

The bats take no time to jump at the opportunity he has opened for them. 

Time slows to a screeching halt, and this time Eddie feels the teeth breaking his skin. Every little puncture sinking deep into the tendons of his neck and pulling pieces of him away is amplified and, for half a second all he feels is a sting, then a series of pops and snaps before the warm wet gush of something flooding up into his hair and down over the expanse of his chest – blood, he realizes, his blood. 

What had you called them? Giant vampire bats?

Paralyzed by the shock of having a literal bite taken out of his neck, Eddie’s body goes momentarily slack, and then he begins to feel the other points of pain as the bats make it through his armor and begin to tear into him.

Christ, they’re gonna eat him alive, and nobody is coming to save him. 

The horror of such a statement is too much, it cracks Eddie’s brain open and he feels a part of himself slip away. He doesn’t shut down like he always imagined must happen to people in moments of great mortal peril, however, he stays tragically conscious, he stays lucid, and the bats keep eating at him. 

Eddie shuts his eyes against it and fails to suppress a scream, as much as in pain as terror.

This can’t be the end, can it? Is this really how he’s going to die? Held down and eaten alive like some kind of Promethean cautionary tale – like something out of one of his campaigns?  

What a stupid fucking way to die. 

Then, inexplicably, just as it becomes too much to bear, it ends with a tremor. Small at first, enough to startle the bats away from their meal. Little faces slick with bright red blood pop up to look around, chitter curiously at each other, and then the world begins to shake, rattling Eddie’s bones as the earth quakes beneath him with a strange and deafening roar. 

There is the rush of something being swung over him, a desperate shout and the bats screech and lift off like they mean to escape it – whatever it is – leaving Eddie lying where they left him. He watches them wink off into the dark with hazy eyes as the world endeavors to come to an end. 

Things go dark then, and Eddie wonders with a stark burst of potent fear if this is the end and if he’s finally begun to die, but he’s still far too painfully aware of everything – of the rumbling, the fleeing bats, the burning and stinging and bleeding across the expanse of his body. Of the other body pressed against him, curling tight over him to try and shield him from whatever is happening, screaming in competition with the sound as it amplifies to a deafening roar. 

And then it’s over, as quickly as it started, with a whimper rather than a fiery bang.

The rumbling silence that follows is punctuated by the sudden wet smacking of the stone-dead weight of a hundred bats dropping out of the air, like terrible, heavy rain. They hit the space above Eddie with heavy metallic thumps and he wonders briefly why he doesn’t feel their impact as they fall – he doesn’t really care; everything hurts too much.

Despite everything he’s still here… at least for now. 

Even when the world grows still, he doesn’t move. He can’t. His body still screams in the absence of the assault where he feels every abrasion, even tear in his flesh, every bruised bone in his body all crying out at once. 

It occurs to Eddie that he’ll die if he doesn’t get up, but that thought is lost under the pain, the way he can feel his life leaking out of him from several key points in his body with every panicked thump of his erratic heart. He knows he’s got to stop himself bleeding, but his limbs are heavy and sluggish — he can’t move – it hurts too bad to move.

Then stop moving, Stupid. Just lay there and die like you’re supposed to. 

Something shifts above him, and the darkness is suddenly gone. He can see the sky as he begins to die, that terrible crimson flashing of lightning, and nothing else.

Eddie’s life doesn’t flash before his eyes – he isn't imbued with sepia-toned home movies of his first steps, scraped knees, and birthday parties. 

When Eddie dies, all he thinks about is you. 

You— crouched in the student parking lot in the first moment he ever really noticed you, gathering the contents of your spilled backpack, cracking a self-deprecating joke, and apologizing for bumping into him - treating him with the most basic human kindness where no one else ever extended the courtesy.

You — sitting on his bed with your knees pulled up, pouring over some homework assignment that isn’t due for at least another week, and ignoring the nonsense song he’s making up on the spot to try and distract you.

You— belly laughing at a joke that isn’t funny with your eyes squeezed shut and your nose wrinkled in the way that made him fall in love with you – You, blasting Duran Duran and jumping on your bed trying in vain to get him to dance with you – You, illuminated by some terrible slasher and shoveling tense fistfuls of popcorn into your mouth while you sit waiting for the impending jump-scare.

You – kneeling over him in this terrible place, battered and bruised, looking like the prettiest goddamn thing he’s ever seen – an honest to Goddamn angel – still clutching the slapdash spear and shield you’d used to save him.

Wasn’t that supposed to be the other way around?

You cast the trashcan lid away from where you’d held it propped above the both of you with a grunt, gasping out the effort and flinching against the harsh sound it makes when it strikes the pavement.

You’re hurt, more than you already were – blood is flecked across your face and oozing from various cuts, blossoming across the heathered grey of your shirt where it isn’t already drying black from before. It’s on your hands, leaving cold smears across Eddie’s skin as you frame his face, forcing him to look at you the same as he had done before.

“Eddie? Eddie.” You say, frantically looking him over, “Look at me – hey, you’re okay –”

Your voice is strange and lilting as you tell him again and again that he’s okay, but your face betrays any affected facade of calm you may have been trying to hold. 

You’ve never been a good liar, especially when you’re scared. Not that Eddie needs to take a cue from you – he already knows he’s fucked.

It’s one of those existential feelings that settles in his bones, something he doesn’t need to be told to know, like when he knew he wasn’t going to graduate his first senior year, only worse.  

“Bad, huh?” He grinds out, eyes rolling in his sockets as he tries to keep himself focused on you. 

He can feel himself slipping and it’s terrifying. He searches you face, focusing on your features and trying to commit them to memory like maybe if he can just keep his eyes on you, he’ll be okay. 

Maybe he’ll still make it.

You give a quick shake of your head that feels decidedly more ominous than it should.

“No – no, you’re okay,” You say again, “Can you-can you sit up? Try and sit up for me, Eds.” 

He can’t imagine how he’s meant to do that, considering as far as Eddie can tell the bats have stripped him clean and he doesn’t have anything left between his ribs and his hips but empty spine.

Then again, you seem optimistic, and he can feel a sharp stab of pain in his belly when your hand comes down to rest over it, so he’s willing to try… or at least he’s willing to let you try.  

“Let’s sit up, okay?” You say again, gently trying to guide him into a sitting position. “We’re gonna sit up and catch our breath, and then we’ll get out of here, okay?”

“Okay,” Eddie mumbles.

Slowly, he lets you coax him up, but then his waist begins to bend and Eddie’s body lights up in a hundred different points of agony. 

Suddenly he’s on fire. 

He screams out the agony, startling you with the sound, and you release him immediately, hands jerking back as fast as if the touch of his body had burned you. 

He hears you swear hearshly from somewhere to his left — he can’t see where you’ve gone, he’s too busy laying there, trying to make himself breathe and waiting for the pain to pass. 

It doesn’t – all he feels is the white-hot burning of half a dozen points where he’s busy bleeding his life away.

“Shit –” You say with a trembling voice, reappearing at his side, “Okay, on second thought, don’t try to move.”

He wasn’t planning on it. 

Eddie’s only vaguely aware of you moving, putting that first aide certificate you’d once proudly shown off to good use. You gently try to coax him to lift his head, and he complies, whimpering and choking as it puts pressure on the wound in his neck – yeah, that’s the bad one — that’s the one that kills him. 

“I know, I know it hurts —I’m sorry—”, you’re babbling as you press something to his throat and do your best to navigate the problem of applying enough pressure to stop the bleeding without choking him out. 

Slowly, Eddie becomes aware of the way his hand has come up, trembling violently as he stares back at his fingers and tries to make his eyes focus on them. If he can just stay conscious, he’ll be fine. In the intermittent flashes of light, he sees the slick wetness of the blood coating his digits, rolling down his wrist into his sleeve in thick rivulets. He realizes with a start that one of those little fuckers took a bite out of his hand. 

“Oh, shit…” he huffs, “…S-Sweetheart…?” 

“You’re okay.” You say again, reaching out quickly to curl his hand in on itself and bring it back down to rest over his heart. 

You keep saying that, but Eddie knows better. It’s too much blood — he’s only got so much of that stuff, and he’s fairly certain he’s lying in a good deal of it, pooling beneath him.

Still, it doesn’t seem to deter you as you maneuver him so that you’ve got your hands hooked under his arms. 

“Listen to me, Eds,” you start, sounding winded as you speak, “We gotta get you to a hospital, so you gotta get up.”

“You said don’t move.” He whimpers, gritting his teeth and bracing himself for more pain. 

You ignore his whining.

“I’m gonna count to three and you’re gonna stand up, okay? I’m gonna help you.”

“Okay,” he says weakly, wincing when you shift beneath him, one leg tucked under yourself, the other bent, ready to push up. 

The subtle movement alone is enough to send a sharp and lancing pain screaming through his body, and Eddie imagines for a moment that even if his wounds don’t kill him, your attempts at trying to save his life will. 

There’s no good choice here. Everything hurts, and it’s not going to stop hurting, no matter what he does. not if he gets up, and not if he just lays there until he dies. 

“Ready?”

“No.” Eddie pants.

Your fingers tighten against him and Eddie braces himself for what’s about to happen. He’s not sure how you expect to do this, but the only certainty here is that if he doesn’t get up, he’s going to die, and more than anything, Eddie doesn’t want to die, not down here in the dark. 

“You start,”

He takes a series of quick breaths, one right after the other, then holds it — this is really gonna hurt. 

“—One.” 

You don’t wait for the rest of the count, and Eddie doesn’t know why he’s so surprised about that when he’s the one who taught you that kind of behavior. 

You push up and pull with all your limited strength to try and move him with you. Pull him up onto his feet, and Eddie feels like you may as well have dropped him into a vat of acid, it’s the worst pain he’s ever experienced, and he’s fully convinced that he’s breaking into dozen of little pieces as you drag him up — there’s nothing he can do to stifle the screams that wrench themselves out of him as you go. 

His voice is a strange, hollow sound against the flat air, and you almost instantly collapse under the combination of his dead weight and your own weakened state. 

Eddie gasps out in relief when you fall backward, having done little more than wrenched him up into your lap. He lays back against your chest with his head resting on your collarbone and waits for the pain to pass… and waits… and waits… it’s not going to stop hurting, he’s going to die before it stops. 

He can feel your heart hammering against your ribs like a subtle tapping at the back of his neck. You’re both gasping for air, gritting your teeth against your own individual pain, and speaking at the same time. 

“Oh, God— oh Christ, don't-don’t do that again,” Eddie pleads, “Please don’t—” 

“Sorry – I’m sorry – that wasn’t nice,” You say, “Give me a second and we’ll try again, okay?”

He shakes his head. 

“No,”

“Eddie, I can’t do anything for you down here.” you stress, “We have to get you to the hospital right now. Come on, let’s try again.” 

“I’m not—” he starts weakly, gritting his teeth and swallowing hard before forcing out a breathless chuckle, “I’m not gonna make it, Sweetheart.” 

He hates to say it, but it’s nothing if not entirely on brand — he is, after all, the pessimist between the two of you. It doesn’t make the statement any less startling, like the clanging of a bell that rings out in the hollow silence that blooms between you. 

“No,” you say with a potent tinge of panic, “No, don’t—don’t be silly, of course you are. You’re gonna be okay, you just have to—” your voice breaks as a sob forces itself up into your throat. “—Y-you just have to get up. Please get up…” 

It breaks his heart to do it, but there’s no sense in pretending like you both don’t know he’s a goner.  Eddie slowly shakes his head and watches your features crumple. 

“Not this time.” he croaks, only just managing to get the sound out through the lump in his throat.  

Your face contorts into a twisted mask of grief and you heave out a strangled breath, slumping forward to bury your face in the crook of his neck. For a moment, it’s all you can do but heave under the duress of trying not to cry.

It doesn’t work.

After a moment of silence, you push up again, sniffling and wiping in vain at the tears that refuse to stop falling from your lashes.

Eddie forces himself to look at you and face the finality of this moment. He watches the big fat tears defy all your attempts to stifle them, dripping down to collect at the point of your chin.

He hates himself for making you cry like that, but there’s nothing he can do — it’s just another one of those inevitabilities that some fatalist part of him always knew: the bats were always going to get through, you were always going to end up in the van, and he was never going to leave this place. 

Eddie reaches up to brush the tears away, smearing blood across your face as he does. He would feel bad about that if he could make himself, but a strange calm has washed over him, and suddenly everything doesn’t hurt as badly as it did a second ago. 

In the back of his rational mind, he knows that’s a bad sign, that it’s the beginning of the end, but he doesn’t care about that — all he cares about is you. 

“It’s okay,” he hums, “Baby— it’s okay … but you gotta— you gotta go now, go to the gate – Dustin’s waiting–”

“No, not without you.” You sniffle, violently shaking your head, “I’m not going anywhere without you.”

Eddie’s heart leaps in panic as his vision wells up and goes blurry as tears begin to collect at the corners of his lashes. You can’t stay down here, but he knows there’s nothing he can do or say to make you go – nothing he’s willing to say, at least.

Suddenly, Eddie is struck with the thought that these are the last minutes of his life, there are no do-overs after this, no second chances. When he closes his eyes, he’s going to die, and this is the last time he’s ever going to see you — what a terrible thing that is. 

You’re gonna go on, keep on living your life, hit all those milestones you’d planned together, and he’s gonna be so sorry to miss it. How terrible a thing it is that you could love something death can touch – he would tell himself that he’s happy to die so that you can live, but somehow he can’t muster the feeling. 

“At least I didn’t run away this time, huh?” 

Eddie tries to smile like he’s laughing at himself for being so stupid, but all he manages is a pained grimace, a horizontal stretch pulling his lips into a tight line — his mouth is full of blood. 

You smile, a weak and wilting mirror image of the look he’s sure he just gave you, and you shake your head.

“No,” you sniffle, brushing back his hair in a helpless attempt at soothing him, “You ran toward the danger, like a big dumb brave idiot… you saved me.”  

Eddie heaves out a stuttering sigh, a desperately melancholy thing, and shuts his eyes tight against the feeling welling up inside of him.

Grief? That’s for certain, because you’re both going to die down here if you stay, but he can’t bear the thought of being parted from you, not here when he needs you most.

Suddenly, he’s that eleven-year-old boy standing on his uncle’s front steps, only this time he’s begging himself not to go. 

“Stay with me, Eds…” You tell him.

“F-fuck,” he stutters, “I’m so— God, I’m sorry. I really tried this time, Sweetheart… I tried to stay, but I–” He breathes out harshly because he'd rather waste a breath than time choking on the sob welling in his throat, “–I don’t – I don’t want to go… I don’t wanna go.” 

You shake your head and shush him, gently caressing the apple of his cheek with your knuckles. 

“...I know, Baby.” you murmur, “Look at me … I’m right here, okay? I’m not going anywhere.”

The words strike him one after the other, harsh and potent stabs of fear pincushioning him and holding him there where he lays in your arms.

You have to go, he wants to tell you, if you stay you’ll die. But he can’t get the words out fast enough. His speech is sluggish and slurred, clumsy on his tongue. 

“You can’t—” 

You don’t let him finish. 

“I made a promise, Eddie.” You press, “I said I wouldn’t leave you. So, if you’re staying, I’m staying.” And then you bring his hand up to draw a shaky x over the left side of your chest, “Cross my heart.” 

It’s simultaneously the worst and best thing he’s ever heard. Maybe there is something poetic about it, spending eternity down here together, your bodies decaying and intertwining, falling together until you’re nothing but a jumbled heap of bones, yours indiscernible for his — together is better. 

People are eventually going to forget about him … but you? No one will know what happened to you, not your friends, your parents, not Wayne – oh, fuck … Wayne. 

Eddie’s heart thumps a slow and heavy rhythm in his chest as images of his uncle’s face swim before his eyes. 

It’ll be hardest for Wayne, the not knowing. 

He’s going to spend the rest of his life searching, wondering what happened to him, waiting for a sign that he’s okay, that he made it – or some sign that he didn’t – and it’s never going to come.

He’s going to die not knowing what happened, and somehow that’s the worst part of all of this. 

Suddenly, Eddie can’t stop thinking of all the people he’ll never see again, everyone he’s letting down, dying like this. Gareth and the band, everyone in Hellfire —Dustin, God, Dustin’s gonna be crushed. 

He feels his face contort into a mask of terrible sadness before he draws in a sharp, pained breath and holds it. Hot tears well up and spill out from his lashes, streaking down over the side of his face to collect in the shell of his ear.

“It’s okay, Eddie, I’m here…” You say gently, “I’m right here.”

“I love you,” He says shakily, desperately.

You nod.

“I know, Honey – I love you too… so much.” 

You continue stroking the side of his face as he feels himself begin to fade, his limbs growing slack, his aches and pains easing away. 

Finally, it’s like he can breathe again, and the air is cool and sweet. If he really wanted to, Eddie thinks he could delude himself into imagining that you’re lying out in a field somewhere, hundreds of miles from Hawkins and the Upsidedown and everything that means him harm, that means you harm.

It’s just the two of you, in this peaceful place, the grass is soft, the birds are chirping — he’s back home in the Shire, Mordor long removed from the horizon. 

It’s hard to force the words out through the way his teeth are chattering – he’s suddenly so goddamn cold, he’s surprised he can’t see his breath clouding in front of his face – but he tries. 

God, does he try. 

“For the quest is achieved–” Eddie stutters, “And now all is over,” He opens his eyes, and the illusion is gone as the crushing darkness of this place comes rushing back in.

He’s so cold, he can barely feel your hands anymore and he has to look to make sure you’re still there, smiling sweetly, tears cutting thick rivulets through the dirt and grime caking face.

Eddie heaves out a sigh as he finishes the quote.

“I’m glad you’re here with me –“ He tells you, “Here, at the end of all things.” 

Everything is muffled now. Eddie doesn’t hear the voice calling his name in the distance, calling yours – he watches your head snap to attention, watches the expression on your face change, and then change again.

Shadows are creeping in on the edges of his vision when you look back down at him, your features are growing fuzzy, but he can see your brows suddenly pinched tightly over your eyes as a newfound urgency etches itself across your face – God, he’s so damn lucky he gets to see your face one last time.

He tries to commit you to memory, but suddenly you’re nothing more than a blown-out silhouette of yourself, working your mouth, curling your fingers in tighter around him.

You’re saying something, but Eddie can’t understand you, the words are garbled, like being spoken underwater. 

He would be sad about that if he were able. 

He wants to tell you he loves you again, one last time before he goes, make sure you know for certain before it’s too late, but he’s already slipped beneath the surface by the time the thought crosses his mind. 

Somewhere, he thinks he can hear you talking to him, still stroking his face in that lovely way you always do. He imagines you asking him to stay stay stay… he would if he could.

[brighteststar707]

Promise Me One Thing

Part one of Don't Say My Name

Part 2 | Part 3 | Masterlist | Read on AO3 (Registered users only)

✦ Saeyoung x gn!Reader

✦ Words: 2840

✦ TW: Death mention

You remember his fury when you ran into V just a few days ago outside the compound. Anger had transformed him into a stranger. But you also remember the fondness in his voice as he talked about their history over the phone. His dedication, his appreciation. Were a few days of discoveries enough to undo all of that history?

For as long as you have known him, Saeyoung has never been able to sit still. There is always an undercurrent of nervous energy running through him – a side effect of having to grow up the way he did – keeping him alert at all times. You can see it in the nervous tap-tap-tapping of his fingers against the steering wheel as he drives, in his endless pacing, in the way he fidgets with your hand or plays with your hair while you’re close to him. Even in his sleep, he tosses and turns and mumbles incoherent sentences.

So, seeing him asleep at the hospital now is equal parts fascinating and unnerving. He is lying almost perfectly still, propped up on a few pillows, his breathing deep and even. It’s different to how he looked immediately after surgery – pale and bruised, like fighting to stay alive for that long had drained everything out of him. Now, he looks like he’s at peace. His skin has got most of its colour back, his lips are slightly pursed, his expression is serene. He’s beautiful and alive. You couldn’t ask for anything more.  

You treasure every second of peace he can get, because with the news you still have to deliver, you know it’s going to be short-lived. You had reassured Jumin that you would tell Saeyoung about everything that had happened at Mint Eye, if only to not make him relive it again. A light had gone out in Jumin, and you know it was taking him all his strength to handle everything else at the hospital.

When he first woke up from the anaesthetic, you gave Saeyoung a short version of what happened at Mint Eye, enough to give him context and reassure him, not enough to shock him (the nurse had sternly reminded you that he was still in a fragile state and needed rest). You told him that Jumin had rescued you not long after he passed out, that Saeran is in care in the same hospital. But even being half-conscious couldn’t stop him from being suspicious. He had heard the tone of Jumin’s voice, flat and monotone, from behind his door, and could see the weariness in your eyes. Even Vanderwood, on their brief visit, had been acting oddly. He tried to keep asking questions, but he was barely able to keep his eyes open. You encouraged him to take the painkillers he was given and promised that you would answer whatever questions he wanted to ask after he rested.

You had been spending the time he was asleep thinking through the events at Mint Eye over and over again, trying to string your words together the right way.

It’s not that you don’t remember. The memory of it is all there, a slideshow that plays every time you close your eyes.

The deadly glint of light catching on the gun. The shrill desperate shouts of someone whose reality has shattered. Saeran clinging onto the gun like it is the last thing that will save him. Saeyoung’s head on your lap, his blood warm and sticky on your hands as you and Vanderwood try to protect him from the crowd. 

Then the bang. The ringing silence after. The gasp of realization, of a bullet finding home. A soft ‘oh’.

A breath you didn’t realize you were holding. The thud of a body hitting the carpet, and then the screaming that never seems to end.

A part of you is still there, you’re sure of it. Reliving it over and over.

The problem is that you cannot gauge how Saeyoung is going to react to the news. You remember his fury when you ran into V just a few days ago outside the compound. Then the disgust on his face as he kicked him in the cell, over and over as you could do nothing but watch and beg him to stop. Anger had transformed him into a stranger. He seemed almost younger in those moments, funnelling years of frustration into every movement and word.

But you also remember the fondness in his voice as he talked about their history over the phone. His dedication, his appreciation. Were a few days of discoveries enough to undo all of that history?

There is only one way to find out, and you are about to, because you can see his eyelashes fluttering.

There is some relief in seeing him open his eyes again. He returns to you, waking up part by part like one of his little creations powering up. He smiles at you softly, and there's something there that's saying I can't believe you're still here with me.

“Good morning, Sunshine,” you say affectionately.

“Hi.” His voice is raspy with sleep and disuse. He seems content. You wonder what he was dreaming of.

You wonder how long it will last.

Already he starts to shuffle around. You help him sit up properly, offer him some water to drink. He eyes the bandages on his arm warily and reaches for your hand with his free one to distract himself from it. As you fill him in on who has come to visit and give him updates on Saeran’s situation, he taps his fingers against your knuckles. By the time you finish, he is more alert and you know that he’s itching to ask you about what you’re not telling him. It’s a wonder he has even waited this long. Maybe a part of him wanted to hang on to this peace for a little while longer too.

But now the knowledge that there is something that he is missing is eating away at him, filling his mind with terrible scary ideas. You can see it; his smile is fading and he is distracted even as he listens to you talk. It is the guilt of a protector who put down his weapons for just a second to rest and feels like he has failed the people he has sworn to take care of.

No doubt the things he is coming up with are convoluted and awful. It would be kinder to tell him the truth now. To stop him from worrying.

You squeeze his hand gently to draw his attention back to you.

“Saeyoung, there is something you need to know about what happened at Mint Eye, while you were… unconscious.” Hands sticky with blood, his body helpless in your arms. “Stop me if you need a moment.”

He sits up straighter, braces himself for bad news. You decide to start with the facts first, the most important part. The details can come in time, when he can handle it.

“There was an altercation at Mint Eye, before Jumin and his team arrived. V… was shot. He’s... dead.”

It comes out clumsy, your voice wobbles.

- The gasp of realization, of a bullet finding home. The thud of a body hitting the carpet. The screaming that never seems to end -

But this is not the time to get caught up in the memories. Saeyoung has gone still again. This is different to the stillness of sleep. He is frozen stiff and his jaw is clenched. It looks unnatural on him. He swallows visibly, and it takes him a second to find what he wants to say.

“He’s really… not like last time…?”

You shake your head. “I saw him myself. It’s real. The others are planning his funeral already.”

He sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth, his expression still blank. It’s not like at the apartment, when he was trying to process the reality of Saeran’s situation. There, fear and confusion were painted clearly on his face. Every movement was jittery, every word came out sharp because he was scared. It sounds like this news has taken something from him – or maybe changed something in him.

He isn’t looking at you. His eyes are blank and unfocused, aimed at the black TV screen opposite his bed.

“Saeyoung?"

“How did it happen?” His voice is monotone. It’s not that he actually cares, but that that he needs to know.

So much for waiting until he’s ready. The best thing you can do for him now is give him the full truth.

“There was chaos after you passed out. Saeran… he had his gun out. I’m not sure what he was thinking, he was shouting and trying to defend himself from all those people.” You stop and suppress a shudder.

If it’s possible, at the mention of Saeran’s name, Saeyoung grows stiller. Like a rubber band pulled taut, about to snap. His attention is fully on you. He can piece the rest of the story together, but he needs you to say it anyway, to make it true.

“It went off, and V jumped in front of the bullet.”

He squeezes his eyes shut like he is fighting off a headache.

“Who knows about this?”

“Only Jumin. He hasn’t told the others the… circumstances of V’s death yet.”

“Good.”

You don’t like this stillness in him. It’s like he’s about to shatter at any moment.

“What are you thinking?”

“…I’m not sure.”

But you can see it, even if he can't yet. The clenched jaw, his grip on your hand. The way his entire body has gone still. It's defeat, and in his defeat, there's anger.

You remember his frustrated pacing in the apartment as he waited for V to pick up his calls. The muttering under his breath, all the questions that were building up. Then, when he saw him at the compound, the questions he spat at him. Questions he punctuated with each kick in the basement. Over and over again, anguish and fury flowing out of him like he was an open wound. Why? How could you? What the hell happened?

His life had fallen apart in the span of a week. Of course he was angry. He had bloodied his hands for someone who had been lying to him all along. He had only told you some of the things he had been forced to do at the agency, but it was enough for you to understand. A part of him had been lost forever when he chose to become Seven Zero Seven.

Then there was Saeran. Hurt beyond recognition, exploited and abused in ways that Saeyoung was supposed to be protecting him from. What was the point of it all?

"What about her?" He says suddenly, his voice sharp. You don't have to ask who he's referring to.

"Rika is... I'm not sure. She was brought to this hospital, but she isn't really... speaking at the moment."

"Not speaking?"

"Jumin said they diagnosed her with something called aphasia? Ever since V... she hasn't said anything."

And like that, he shuts off completely. His last hope for answers, for accountability has gone silent.

"Is there anything I can do for you, Saeyoung?"

He softens, if only slightly.

"Can you please... stay?"

Stay? The thought of leaving his room, let alone the hospital hadn't even occurred to you.

"Of course."

He relaxes a little bit - there is still some tightness in his jaw - but the stillness stays with him. He doesn't fidget, doesn't try to get up, he just sits resting against the pillows of his bed staring out of the window. You know his mind is miles away, trying to fit these new pieces of his life together, trying to process the blow he has just been dealt.

Trying not to let the anger consume him completely.

˚　.˚　　　　✦ 　　　 ˚. 　˚

The soft tapping of footsteps and murmurs of doctors as they walk down the hall. The opening tune to some sitcom rerun playing on one of the TVs. People arguing behind the closed doors of a patient room. The smell of antiseptic and the creaky plastic chairs.

If hell exists, Saeyoung thinks, it’s a hospital waiting room. After all the hours he has spent here between visiting hours, he should know.

He sits slumped in one of those awful chairs, head in his hands. He must look like a wreck to anybody passing – the doctors certainly didn’t hide their disapproval – but he doesn’t care. He hasn’t had the presence of mind to make sure he looks presentable. It has only been a few days since he was discharged, but he knows that he's a mess, barely eating and sleeping, propelled onward only by his determination to help Saeran.

Today’s visit hadn’t gone well. He couldn’t be in the room for more than a few minutes before Saeran started threatening to hurt him. Saeyoung was more scared that he would hurt himself. He left quickly after that with a quick reminder that he’d be back tomorrow.

The doctors are getting increasingly impatient with both of them and he isn’t sure what to do about it. He plays nice for them, smiles placidly and thanks them again (for what exactly, he’s not sure) in the hopes that they’ll take pity on them and hold off on any drastic plans for just a little bit longer.

The whole charade makes him want to scream.

But he doesn't. Instead, that anger and frustration builds up inside him, as it has been for the past few days (weeks? months? years?). He doesn't see a way out of it.

Saeyoung is no stranger to anger. He was raised on it, a resource more plentiful than food or comfort ever was in his house. He breathed it in and let it take hold, learned to turn it back on the people around him without a moment's notice. It was the only way to survive in his world. And there was a lot to be angry at. His mother and father, for having him and his brother and then failing them both so spectacularly. At the agency for his endless stream of work. At the world, for putting even the kindest people through pain.

It takes physical effort nowadays, to keep from breaking apart. He has to walk away, has to hold his breath, has to keep his body tense. He has to, because if he lets go for even a second, even he isn't sure what the fallout will be. All he knows is that it will be messy, destructive. If he starts screaming, he may not stop. He cannot afford to lose it. Not yet. Saeran needs him. You need him (or is that one the other way around?).

There is also a part of him (however reluctant he may be to admit it) that is scared of what will be left of him without that anger.

These visits are all he has the energy for. Even after detoxing and the little treatment he has allowed, Saeran is thin and pale, all bones and bruises, the opposite of that smiling boy from the pictures that Saeyoung had come to associate with his brother. When he isn’t staring out of his hospital room window at the clouds, he’s screaming and lashing out at the people around him. When the doctors listed off all the drugs they found in his system, Saeyoung had to leave the room to avoid breaking something.

He doesn't recognise himself anymore. He has worn many masks, but even he cannot find a trace of himself in this stranger with the clenched jaw and empty eyes that looks back at him from the mirror.

He cannot stand to be near the RFA for very long amounts of time. Their grief makes him itch; their pity makes his blood boil. They have been walking on eggshells around him, much the same as they have been with Jumin. Neither of them appreciates it much, if Saeyoung's observations are anything to go by. Jumin is absent, inexpressive. Drunk, more often than not, he reckons. He wonders if he resents V too for throwing himself in front of that bullet.

He even reluctantly keeps his distance from you for fear of what might happen if you try to get through to him. If there's anyone who will see through the mess he has become, he knows it's you. After the life he had promised you, he feels like this version of him would be a disappointment to you.

God, he thinks. How did they end up here?

You will have to say goodbye to Saeran. Rika and I will take care of him. We'll make sure we save him.

Saeran had thrown the TV remote at Saeyoung’s head as he was about to leave the room. It would have hit him if Saeran’s hands weren’t shaking so much from withdrawals. He wishes it had.

We really want the two of you to be happy.

Right. Look where they ended up. This is happy.

He isn't sure how much time has passed when he finally stands up from the waiting room chair and leaves the hospital. He robotically drives himself home, returns to his desk, and sits in silence. He will probably sit here until he cannot keep his eyes open any longer.