#watch how far she's willing to go to cut him out of her life and how much harm shes willing to cause him to protect him
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dykedivorce · 1 year ago
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THE WHEEL OF TIME | 2x02 "Strangers and Friends"
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luxaofhesperides · 4 months ago
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the lost brother - damian
There is static in his ears.
There is a baby in his arms.
His niece. His niece from a brother dead before he was born. The daughter of Danyal, his mother's greatest regret, the ghost haunting his childhood, the brother he never got to have.
She is so small in his arms. Still. Quiet.
It frightens him, cradling such a fragile life in his arms. He's not good with most people, let alone a baby.
Danyal must have been truly desperate to leave her with him.
"Robin."
The voice makes the world come rushing back into place. Damian moves before he thinks, turning his body to shield his niece from danger, but it's only Red Robin standing before him. He stares, wide eyed, until Red Robin pushes his cowl back and Drake stands before him, expression carefully neutral. He doesn't look at the baby in Damian's arms. He only looks at Damian.
"Robin, come on. The Batmobile is right below us."
Damian hesitates, then follows Drake to the edge of the roof. He takes the fire escape down, landing carefully so he doesn't jostle the baby in his arms, and Drake grapples down a moment later, carefully maintaining the distance between them.
He knows it's to keep Damian from feeling trapped, and he's stupidly grateful, though he'll never say so.
The rest of the family will be a pain to deal with. They will demand answers he doesn't have, invade his space, insist on taking his niece from him. At least Drake is quiet and willing to observe without interference beyond getting them all home.
As promised, the Batmobile waits for them in the alley. Drake holds the door open and Damian slides in, adjusting his niece to make sure she's comfortable. She blinks up at him with dark blue eyes.
How strange. He had expected them to be green.
Drake drives them, speaking in short bursts into his comm. Damian brings a hand up to his own, realising rather belatedly that it's muted. Oracle must have grown annoyed at the barage of questions heading his way and silenced them for him.
He'll have to thank her later, once things have settled down.
For now, all his attention is on his little baby niece. What did Danyal say her name was?
Ellie.
Ellie Ellie Ellie.
She reaches up with a small hand, curious, and Damian offers a finger for her to latch on to. Her grip isn't strong, and her hand is small and barely warm.
He holds her closer for the rest of the ride home.
Father wants to take Ellie away for tests. Damian refuses to let go of her, going as far as leveling a sword at anyone who tries.
Drake is the only one who offers to only draw the barest minimum amount of blood for a DNA test, all while Damian holds her.
This, he accepts.
The others hover in his periphery, muttering amongst themselves, but Damian cares little for their thoughts and judgements. He was given Ellie for the sole purpose of caring for her. He will not fail in his duty. If it comes to it that he has to hide away with Mother for the rest of them to calm down, then he will. Surely she'll want to be involved with her granddaughter.
He'll have to tell her about Danyal, anyways.
Father stays at the computer, watching as the results load. He does not look away from the screen to even greet Ellie.
Damian pushes down his bitterness. He knows well the kind of man Father is, now. This is expected of him.
It's Richard that stays by him, hurrying across the Cave with an armful of diapers and baby clothes.
"I wasn't sure what to get, so I got a bit of everything," he explains, setting everything down on the cot where Damian sits with Ellie. Richard cut his patrol short as soon as Danyal left and made an emergency run to the nearest store with baby supplies, pulling sweatpants and a jacket over his Nightwing suit. The collar of the suit peeks out from beneath his jacket, and Damian is sure that it's only the late hour that kept anyone from asking too many questions while Richard was shopping.
"Thank you," Damian mutters. He sets Ellie down carefully, and she blinks up at him with tired eyes. Her face is round with baby fat, but not by much. "How do I…?"
"I think I know how to change a diaper," Richard offers, already pulling a fresh one out of the pack. He gets a small pack of baby wipes out of his pocket and quickly undoes the diaper on Ellie, wiping her down. Damian watches carefully, committing each step to memory as Richard changes her diaper and makes sure she's comfortable.
They're all out of their depths, Damian realizes. Have any of them actually cared for a baby? Pennyworth might have had some idea, and though he died a few years ago, the loss of him aches sharply even now.
"We'll have to figure out how old she is before we get any food for her," Richard murmurs, reaching out to brush a finger against her cheek. His eyes are soft, sad, and Damian lets out a slow breath, relived to know he can trust Richard with Ellie. "What happened?"
It's the question everyone's been asking him, and Damian has refused to answer each time.
But he will answer Richard.
"I saw a person on the edge of the roof as I patrolled. I went down to bring them to safety. He was… I had an older brother who died before I was born. But I know what he looks like. It was him, on that roof."
"You think he came back to life?"
"He must have. He was placed in a Lazarus Pit, but Mother said it didn't bring him back. Perhaps it just took time."
"What made you think it was him, if you've never met him?"
Damian thinks back. The man on the roof was a few years older than Drake, thin and worn-down. His eyes caught Damian's attention first; al Ghul's have very distinctive eyes, and it seems they both inherited that trait from Mother. Beyond that…
Lazarus Pits have magic in them. They wouldn't be able to do what they did without it. Those revived by Lazarus Pits carry some of it with them; it's not Pit Rage, which fades within an hour, but something else that leaves them on the boundary of inhuman. Damian grew up around the Pits and people who used them. He knows what the magic of the Pits feels like, and he could feel it in Danyal.
"I just knew," Damian answers. "Should Mother ever meet him, she'll be able to tell you the same thing: that was Danyal. And this is his daughter."
"Do you know why he left his daughter with you?"
"He asked if Batman was a good father. If I was safe here. Only then did he give Ellie to me."
"He could have stayed to," Richard says, sadness coloring his tone.
Damian doesn't respond. What could he say? Yes, Danyal could have stayed and joined them. He chose not to, for whatever reason. They have not found him yet, and Damian doubts they will find him any time soon.
Danyal is the first son of Talia al Ghul and Bruce Wayne. He will not be found until he wants to be.
Damian will have to wait until then.
The DNA results come back after eight rounds of testing.
Ellie is indeed Damian's niece.
The closest matches to her in the database are Damian and Bruce, which all but confirms that Danyal is indeed the first blood son of the Bat.
Father stares down at Ellie with an unreadable look on his face. He doesn't try to hold her; Damian doesn't know if he should be grateful for this or not.
"I have another son," he says. "And neither you nor your mother ever told me."
"He was dead," Damian answers, "What use would a dead child be to you? Even I never met him until tonight. He was gone long before I was born."
"He's still my son!"
"He's a stranger," Damian bites back. "Why do you pretend to care now? He has never been a part of our lives before. You won't even hold his daughter."
Father flinches back, just slightly, but it's enough to know that the barb hit. Damian gathers Ellie up into his arms and heads for the stairs. "I will be going to sleep now. Ellie will stay with me. You are welcome to stay down here to search for Danyal, or you can get some rest to join me in shopping for Ellie. I will call Mother. Good night."
The others don't have the decency to wait until he's completely out of the Cave before they begin shouting amongst themselves. Damian clicks his tongue and looks down at Ellie, who's sleeping peacefully.
"Let's hope you grow up to have more sense than them," he says to her.
He lays her on top of the blankets, then curls up next to her. It's a long time before he's able to fall asleep.
Mother calls first thing in the morning. Damian's barely had time to brush his teeth before his phone is ringing, and he has to rush to catch it before the call ends.
"Is it true?" she demands as soon as he answers, "Was it Danyal?"
Damian bites back a curse. He said he'd call her. It would have been best if he had been the one to break the news, rather than anyone else, but it doesn't surprise him that no one listened.
"It's true," he says. "Danyal was in Gotham last night. He left his daughter in my care before disappearing. I was unable to speak to him more."
"How can that be," she says, breathless, "It's been decades since his death. The Lazarus Pit never returned him to me."
"It was him. That's all I know."
There's a pause as his mother gathers her composure. Then she says, "I will be in Gotham in a week. I will not be kept out of my granddaughter's life."
"I will make sure we have a room ready for you."
"Good. Take care, habibi."
The call ends without any other fanfare. Damian drops his head with a sigh and tosses his phone back onto his desk.
On his bed, Ellie is sitting up, watching him curiously.
"You and your father have caused a lot of trouble already," he tells her, and she claps her hands together.
When he goes downstairs, he immediately makes note of Drake and Brown's presence with displeasure. His hopes for a quiet morning are dashed before he even reached the kitchen.
"There you are!" Brown says far too loudly. She bounds up to him, ignoring his scowl, and peers at Ellie. "Hm, I'd guess around nine to eleven months, accounting for FTT and some malnutrition."
"FTT?" he repeats.
"Failure to thrive. If infants aren't care for properly, which includes cuddling, then they just… don't grow as they should. They end up smaller and weaker than is expected for their age."
"I imagine she was not taken care of properly, wherever she was before. She wouldn't have been left with me otherwise."
Brown looks troubled, but she blinks it away and smiles when Ellie reaches up to grab at her nose. "Hello there," she says in a soft voice, "I'm your favorite aunt. Don't forget that, alright! I'm your favorite."
Damian pushes her away. "She has no favorites."
"Not yet, but it'll definitely be me when she does!"
"Don't you have anything better to do than bother me?"
"No. But, in all seriousness, me and Tim are here to help. He gave me a rundown and what happened and I still have a bunch of stuff from my pregnancy classes that can help you. We also got some baby food and milk and formula for the baby, since she'll need to eat and be burped. I can walk you through all of that so you can start getting some experience in baby care."
Ah. He had forgotten that Brown had once been pregnant. That she gave away her own baby.
It must be hard for her to be on the other end of that situation, to watch someone take in a baby whose parent couldn't properly care for her, to muster up a smile and all the information she has to make things better.
"I would… appreciate that, Brown."
"Good! Well, lesson one starts now."
She throws open the door to the kitchen, where Drake is pressing the tip of a feeding bottle against the inside of his wrist. "Come here," he says to Damian. "Hold out a hand."
Curious, Damian does as told, and watches as Drake pressed the warm tip of the bottle against his wrist, where liquid splots out onto his skin. "That's about how warm it should be when you feed her. Here." He presses the bottle into Damian's hands, and it takes some adjustment before he can feed Ellie, who starts off slowly, then with more energy.
Brown tosses a rag over his shoulder, and instructs him on how to burp Ellie once she's finished eating. She coughs up some formula, then settles back into his arms, eyes closing as she begins to doze.
"I'll handle shopping," Drake says. "You need a crib, right? Maybe some toys… Just text me a list, I'll get everything."
"Why are you doing all this?" Damian can't help but ask. "We are not exactly… close."
Drake blinks at him, as though he's confused. "Because a baby is a big responsibility. And just because we don't always get along doesn't mean we're not family. She's my neice too. Doesn't she deserve to have more people in her corner?"
Damian can't argue with that, so he nods and lets Drake go to buy whatever he thinks is necessary. Brown lingers in the kitchen, making breakfast for them both in between sneaking glances at Ellie. Usually being watched so obviously would have him on edge and snappy, but he understands the urge to keep looking; he also can't take his eyes off of Ellie.
For someone so small to go through such hardship already… he doesn't understand how anyone can look at her and not want to keep her safe.
He wonders if anyone is keeping Danyal safe.
As much as he wants to go after Danyal, search for his resurrected brother, Ellie takes priority.
She's the one who's here to stay, after all.
Father doesn't come up from the Batcave all day.
Damian tries not to hate him for it.
He doesn't think he succeeds.
(masterpost for all parts)
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buckyalpine · 1 year ago
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A one shot where Bucky doesn’t like the reader and makes her life at the compound a little rough? Like enemies (maybe to lover or friends?) and she is like the sunshine personality 🥺🥺🥺
I live for this shit This type of angst where he's mean and finds her annoying even though she's a sweetheart, ugh, yes. YES.
Bucky groaned, trying to ignore the shooting pain that seared in his abdomen, clutching an old t-shirt to stop the bleeding from the stab wound he'd received during his latest mission.
"You good there, terminator?" Sam cocked an eyebrow watching Bucky unconvincingly nod, grunting a half assed yes before squeezing his eyes shut and flopping back on the seat.
"You're gonna need stiches" Steve snorted, shaking his head at his stubborn friend.
"I'm fine" Bucky gritted out, preferring to bleed out on the jet instead of going to the med bay where he'd be surrounded by doctors and needles and if he was really unlucky, you.
"Seriously? That's the second shirt you've bled through, I don't think the serum's gonna cut it, punk" Steve sighed, knowing how Bucky felt about getting medical care but it wasn't like he had a choice. As soon as the jet landed, Bucky was shoved in the direction of the medical wing, pouting and grumpy as he limped with Steve supporting him. Bucky frowned when Steve pushed him to lay down on the examination table, grumbling and wincing under his breath.
"You stay here. I'm gonna finish writing up our reports, don't go sneaking off" Steve chuckled, giving his friend's shoulder a squeeze before leaving. The soldier stared up at the florescent lights, his eyes anxiously darting about the room, hoping and praying that at the very least he wouldn't have to deal with-
"Good afternoon Bucky!"
For fucks sake.
Bucky groaned at the chirpy voice that piped up from the door, his brows knotted together from frustration.
He hated it. You'd ask about his day as if he wasn't there go get sewn up. You'd talk to him like you'd known him for years, almost oblivious to the fact that he was a former brain washed assassin. Every time he saw you, you were so giggly and pretty and bouncy and cute and happy and it irked his soul because it was to the point it was unnecessary. I mean you were just so kind and sweet to everyone as if everyone deserved such amazingness from such a wonderful person, okay that's enough Bucky.
The world wasn't fucking sunshine and rainbows and he had no idea why you acted like it was.
"Steve said you needed a few stitches so-
"Where's Dr. Cho" Bucky cut you off, hoping anyone else would help him so he could get on with his day, willing to take the needle and thread himself instead of having you do it while talking his ear off.
"Oh, she's with another patient right now but it's fine, I promise I'll get you out of here soon, do you mind if I remove your vest-
"Yeah, I got it" Bucky huffed, wincing to get his gear off but you stopped him, urging him to stay down.
"No, it's okay, I just wanted to make sure you're okay with it, I'll cut it off, don't worry"
Bucky nodded, lying back down while you grabbed a tray with medical supplied, carefully cutting around the blood soaked material and discarding it. You cleaned the area, mumbling apologies incase the alcohol caused any pain, moving on to closing the cut.
"I heard about the mission you all went on. I can't even imagine going through all that, it sounded terrifying. You're very brave Sargent" You smiled, tossing your gloves aside after patching Bucky up. Bucky grunted as he hopped off the table without a word, ready to whack Steve on the head for telling you of all people he needed help.
"If you need anything else, let me know! Just get some rest for a few days, it'll heal soon-
"I know" Bucky walked out of the room without looking back, his shoulders relaxing when he was far away from he med wing. There was truly no reason for him to be this annoyed but he was tired, in pain and he knew for a fact there would be a pile of papers for him to fill out in the conference room.
You didn't take Bucky's grumpy attitude to heart, understanding the stress that came with going on missions, getting injured every time coupled with the fact that he was probably still healing from his own past. You put away the supplies before taking a coffee break, running into a very excited Tony along the way.
"Hey cupcake, just who I was looking for, do you like chocolate or vanilla"
"Tony, I told you, you don't have to-
"That doesn't answer the question. Pick one or the other or both or another flavor, all the flavours, but give me something"
You giggled at the way he looked at you expectantly, sighing seeing as he wouldn't let up until you answered.
"I'm not picky, you know I'd love anything. Get something everyone would like, seriously, I don't even need all this, I'm just the nurse-
"Stop that right now, there's no one else like you" Tony huffed, planting a quick kiss your head before texting his caterers about everything he wanted, ensuring everything was perfect, especially when it came to you.
-
You woke up to the sun streaming through the curtains, stretching before getting out of bed and padding over to the bathroom to go through your morning routine. You had the day off, throwing on your joggers instead of your typical scrubs and making your way down to the kitchen, grabbing ingredients for baking.
You hummed, scooping out spoons of cookie batter, plopping it onto the tray and throwing it into the oven, cleaning up the area in between, waiting for the oven timer to go off. You set the chocolate chip cookies onto a tray, piping the last bit of icing onto the top and sweeping away the smidges of frosting that got onto the counter.
Bucky blinked at the smell of baking, making his way to the kitchen for some water after a run. He groaned, nearly walking right back out when he saw you singing to yourself, arranging cookies in a circle, each one decorated for a different person in the tower.
"Good morning Bucky" You smiled while he mumbled, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge, "I-I made made cookies for everyone, did you want one?" You asked hopefully, looking at the little dog tags you'd piped on the cookie you made for him while he shrugged in response.
"Why do you keep trying so hard, do you not have any friends?" Bucky scoffed, ignoring the fresh plate of cookies that sat on the counter, not caring that your face had fallen. He wanted to strike a nerve, feeling a sick satisfaction at the way you silenced yourself, giving him the peace and quiet he wanted.
"S-sorry, I just thought-
"You thought what?" Buck cocked an eyebrow, the tick in his jaw making your stomach churn.
"Nothing, sorry" You mumbled, turning back to continue cleaning while he chugged the rest of the bottle. "I've just leave them here if you want one later on-
"No, I don't want one now and I don't think I'll want one later either" Bucky glared at you, tired of you always trying to do things for others as if anyone asked.
"I-I'm sorry I didn't-" you bit your lip hard to keep from crying, not wanting to annoy Bucky more.
"Why do you always act like everything great? Like we don't come back from almost dying, risking our lives while you go about like the world is perfect"
"I just-I didn't mean-
"You didn't mean what, to be annoying? Did anyone even ask for this?" Bucky nodded to the cookies while you shook your head, feeling ridiculous and embarrassed, not realizing others also probably found you annoying.
"I-it was my birthday, I thought-" you sniffled, choking back a whimper, "I wanted to do something nice - never mind" You bit your lip to keep from breaking down, blinking back tears as you scurried off to your room, without looking back.
The initial satisfaction Bucky was short lived as he stood in the now empty kitchen, tossing the bottle aside. The plate caught his eye once more as he walked by, reluctantly stopping to look at each one, your skilled hands decorating each one with clean details. He instantly spotting the one you made for him which had been dusted with silver just like his tags; he had no idea how you managed to get his name and number piped to precisely.
Not that it mattered.
Bucky continued to make his way to the gym, feeling a little bad that he made you cry but he figured you'd get over soon enough, after all that seemed to be your strong suit, you were always happy and smiling anyway.
-
"You're coming tonight, right?" Steve dropped the weights he was curling while Bucky frowned, unsure of what the captain was referring to.
"Why, what's tonight" Bucky grunted, still in the middle of his set.
"Seriously, Tony told us like a month ago"
"Yeah, fine" Bucky huffed, not really caring what it was about, knowing he'd be dragged to go regardless. He finished the rest of his workout, retreating back to his room to shower. He flopped onto his bed after, grabbing a book from his bedside table seeing as there was still plenty of time till he had to get ready.
The book had been a Christmas present from you and as much as he hated to admit it, it was perfect and one of his favorites. He tried to focus on the words, feeling bad again thinking about how your face had fallen earlier when all you did was offer him a cookie.
Maybe he went a little overboard with his reaction...
Bucky shook the guilt he felt, hoping that you'd be running around somewhere getting ready for whatever tonight was.
-
"Where's y/n" Sam looked around the room seeing everyone else present but you, the night in full swing seeing as Tony had gone all out as usual "I swear she said she'd be here, this is literally her birthday party"
"I didn't see her" Nat frowned, putting down the drink she was sipping on, scanning the room again, "Now that I think about it, I haven't seen her all day"
Bucky felt a deep pang in his chest when he realized the party was for you, his stomach twisting in knots.
"Where's our birthday girl" Steve asked as he joined the others, the guilt making Bucky feel even more sick. He ran a hand over his face while the others continued to wonder where you were. "I hope she isn't working, she deserves a day off, she already worked over time for 3 months straight when we were running back to back missions"
Bucky remembered that.
They'd all been sent out on missions spread across different months and you'd been the one on call to patch them up the entire time. You hadn't complained once even through you were thoroughly sleep deprived. At the time Bucky was annoyed you were in such an upbeat mood when they were all scraping by but you had been struggling yourself.
"I fucked up" Bucky groaned, feeling awful for how he'd treated you in the morning and for how he'd been acting towards you in general.
"Why, what did you do" Steve's face twisted in confusion while Bucky's face reddened in embarrassment. Steve was aware Bucky complained about you but he figured it was because his bestfriend got flustered around the pretty nurse, he'd seen Bucky get tongue tied plenty of times whenever you walked by.
"You were a grumpy asshole to y/n, weren't you" Sam frowned seeing Bucky's guilty face. The soldier didn't say another word, leaving the group to find you instead, debating on getting Steve to clock him in the jaw first. Bucky ran to the elevator, pushing the button to your floor, hoping he'd see you making your way down, only to find the hallway empty. His heart broke hearing the soft sniffles coming from your room, the door closed. He gently knocked on the door, your cries quieting down as if you'd silenced yourself to pretend you were asleep instead of opening the door.
"Y/n?" Bucky called for you only to be met with more silence, "Can-can you please open the door?" His heart started to beat faster when he head your footsteps approaching the door, clicking the lock open; you were still in your joggers from earlier, your face puffy from crying.
All because of him.
"Sorry, I fell asleep" you lied, keeping your face trained on your feet, worried Bucky had come to yell at you about the party Tony had thrown for you, "and I'm sorry about the party, you didn't have to go if you didn't want to, I promise I didn't tell Tony you had to come, I know you don' like me-
"No, no baby no, stop" Bucky hushed you, his heart breaking when your voice cracked, rambling out apologies. His body moved on its own, wrapping his arms around you while you started to cry again, rocking you while holding you to his chest. "Please don't cry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, you have nothing to apologize for doll, nothing at all"
Bucky held you tightly while your body shook, feeling sick with himself for how he'd been treating you. You'd never been anything short of sweet and he'd made a point of always letting you know he couldn't care less. He lifted you in his arms, walking over to your bed, sitting down with you in his lap, ready to fall to his knees and beg for forgiveness.
"I didn't mean to be so annoying" You shrugged, fidgeting with your fingers, the light that always made your eyes twinkle dimmed from Bucky's words.
"Y/n, please, no" Bucky whispered, pleading with you to stop. "Don't doll. It was never ever you, please let me apologize. I've been awful to you, you've done nothing wrong. You've always been an angel, sweets, it's me whose been an annoying asshole. I don't deserve your kindness but that's never stopped you from giving it to me when I least deserved it"
"You deserve kindness Bucky" you gave him a small smile, one that didn't meet your eyes and Bucky felt his eyes sting. Even when he was the one in the wrong, you were still comforting him with your sweetness.
"Y/n, I don't know anyone that deserves the sort of kindness you give. I don't know anyone that would deserve someone as wonderful as you. You're a light for everyone when its dark. I was a fuckin' idiot for everything I've ever said to you. That isn't an excuse for how I've been treating you doll, I know that. It's just- I've been awful to you and you've never done anything wrong. I'm truly sorry sweets"
"Its okay Bucky" You whispered, reaching up to wipe the tear that streaked down his face, your cheeks heating up when you realized you were still in his lap, "S-sorry, I didn't realize-
Bucky shook his head, holding you securely in his lap, not wanting to let you go.
"You have nothing to apologize for, pretty girl" Bucky shrugged, loosening his hold in case you wanted to get off but your doe eyes darted around instead, settling further in his lap. "You really are like sunshine"
"You're very charming, Sargent" you smiled bashfully while Bucky chuckled, his heart beating erratically in his chest when your hands came up to toy with the tags that hung around his neck.
"Would it-would it be if I kissed you?" He whispered shyly, blushing when you nodded, pressing his soft lips to yours. Bucky took his time kissing you, pouring every ounce of his feelings with soft touches, holding onto you like porcelain.
"Everyone's waiting for you sweets" Bucky gave you a gentle squeeze, tilting your chin up to meet his eyes, hoping that you'd still want to go to your own party. "Would you like to go downstairs?"
You slinked off Bucky's lap to get ready, the soldier watching you with heart eyes the entire time you did your hair and makeup. He knew he had a lot to make up for, starting with the fact that he'd never hurt you again. He was still upset with himself for ever hurting you in the first place but he was ready to protect your innocent heart for the rest of his life. His breath hitched in his throat when you finished applying the last of your gloss, blushing when you slipped your hand into his so he could lead you down.
"Theres our cupcake!" Tony grinned when he saw you approaching, the rest of the team cheering making you giggle. Steve smirked seeing Bucky follow closely behind you in protective mode, keeping his hand around your waist. He spent the entire time, doting on you, following you like a lost puppy.
By the end of the night, he had you in his lap again, shamelessly looking at you with heart eyes while the rest of the team watched curiously, his sole focus on you.
"Happy birthday sweet girl" Bucky whispered, pressing a kiss to your cheek while you nuzzled into him with a shy smile, "My little sunshine"
-
Now imagine Bucky doesn't quickly get over the fact that he was a dick. Sure you forgave him because you're an absolute sweetheart but Bucky can't even deal with the way he'd acted, especially when he had a crush on you the entire time and just refused to acknowledge it, acting like a cunt instead.
He's the most lovestuck boyfriend to ever exist. Your office is always full of fresh flowers. He's a clingy little puppy, outside of the medwing until your done, always finding excuses to sneak in and see you. You had to tell him a papercut wasn't a good enough reason for him to request your services.
Neither was a stubbed toe.
The time he nicked himself while shaving was the worst because he was pouty until you kissed him better.
He slips his dog tags around you, his possessive/jealous side occasionally sneaking out.
He doesn't even hide the fact that he's a simp for you, knowing he's the luckiest person on the planet to get the sweetest person in the world. He shows your off like no tomorrow, proud of the angel he gets to call his.
He absolutely loved his sunshine.
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anonymityisfunwriter · 9 months ago
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"Slut!"
Pairing - Steve Rogers x Stark!Reader Summary - It was perfect. Lovelorn and nobody knows. Love thorns all over this rose. You almost forgot just how hard the fall back to reality is. But if they call you a slut, it might be worth it for once.
Steve Rogers Masterlist | Inspired By Taylor Swift Masterlist
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"She goes through guys like a train-"
You immediately change the channel. The next one isn't better. You don't know why you thought it would be.
"The Stark last name and the long list of ex-lovers, that's her claim to fame. I mean, let's be honest here, she's a slu-" The tabloid reporter is abruptly cut off as the screen before you goes dark.
You look up to find Steve with the remote in his hand. He glares at the screen like the reporter was still talking, "You shouldn't be watching that."
"I'm used to it."
"You shouldn't be. It's despicable. They were - the things they're calling you-"
"A slut," you finish for him.
His eyes dart to you, that furrow between his eyebrows getting deeper and deeper with every word spoken, "It's not true. This isn't journalism, it's slander."
You weren't sure how this happened. Sure, it was only a matter of time before they found you out. This wasn't the first time. Not the second or the third either. If the press was to be believed, you were love sick. Love struck with a new man every week.
It wasn't the first time someone called you a slut. It certainly wouldn't be the last.
You stopped living your life in fear of what people would say a long time ago. Being this young was an art. And up until now, you thought you mastered it.
It was simple. You even had your rules. You followed them and no one got hurt - or at the very least, it minimized the damage.
They were going to stare at you. Strangers. Press. The flashing cameras. It came with being a Stark. If they're going to look, you gave them something to look at. You didn't so much as step out on the street with a single hair out of place. You were flawless. Always.
You were nineteen, and on the heels of a breakup with your second ever boyfriend, the first time someone spit that word at you - "slut!" It hurt, but it didn't hurt as much as you thought it would. It almost made you laugh. You realized that they didn't really care about your love life or about the trail of broken hearts you were supposedly leaving behind. They wanted a spectacle. They wanted a show. If you're going to be drunk, might as well be drunk in love.
It was easier after that. You knew the truth. The people around you knew the truth. You let everyone else believe what they wanted. You did what you wanted. You lived your life without worrying about being called a slut. They were going to call you one anyway. And if they call you a slut, you might as well make it worth it.
You gave just enough to keep them satisfied. Never anything too real. Never too much. Just enough that they wouldn't dare peak behind closed doors. Just enough to be able to live your life.
There were was a cost, of course. No one took you seriously. You dealt with the vague humiliation of the rumors constantly swirling about your hips and thighs and whispered sighs.
And though you inherited the Stark genius, no one cared about what you thought, what you had to say.
In that, the reporter was right, your love life was far more interesting than your thoughts on quantum mechanics or the military industrial complex. That was what you were known for.
For the most part, you were okay with it. You were willing to pay it all.
That was until you fell in love with Steve Rogers. Suddenly, you weren't willing to give them crumbs. You weren't willing to expose a love that felt this delicate.
You sit on the couch, huddled in your sweatpants, pensively staring at the blank screen.
This time, it was different. This wasn't a show, not a spectacle. It was real, an exposed nerve that the world decided was fair game. You were fair game and it was open season.
Steve settles beside you, draping an arm around your midsection. He kisses your temple, "Tony thinks it's probably best that you lay low for a while."
"Yes, well, my brother is the expert on PR damage control."
It wasn't the same though. You both knew it. Tony had done far worse with far more women. Yet, he would never pay the price you were paying in this very moment.
Steve's arms tighten around you like he's shielding you from the storm, "It's not right. It's not fair that you're being forced to sequester yourself. You're being punished but what exactly was your crime?"
"I fell in love with Steve Rogers, that was my crime." You fell for the man everyone wanted, the man who was in the wrong place at the right time.
"I'm sorry," he whispers against the crown of your head.
"For what?"
"You warned me this would happen."
It was true. You told him exactly what would happen, but even you didn't anticipate exactly how bad things would get.
You'd been with Steve for just under a year. And up until a week ago, only a select few knew. You both agreed to keep it a secret from the public. You felt protective over the love you shared, it was more real than anything else you'd ever had. You wanted to keep it to yourself, out of the hands of people that would tear you both to shreds without a second thought.
Steve felt the same. Though he was more worried about the enemies he made over the years.
It made sense to protect the relationship, to protect yourselves until you were both ready. You wanted to protect him from what you knew was lurking around the corner. Steve was still so new to the 21st century. Dating in the public eye wasn't easy. Dating a Stark wasn't easy. For almost an entire year, you used every publicity trick in the book - and it worked.
But then, you heard it, the whispers, rumors bubbled about your newest future ex-lover.
You only agreed to going public because everyone told you it was time, because they promised that the timing couldn't have worked out better than this. It was better to do this on your own terms than have it leaked.
No one knew how bad it would get.
"Are you sure? There's no going back after this," you whisper, standing in the hallway of your apartment. You could practically hear the cameras flashing outside your apartment. You'd never been this nervous to leave your apartment before. You'd been through the plan a million times. You'd be exposed to the cameras for a matter of seconds. Happy was already waiting with the door to your SUV open, ready for you to jump in. You'd walk outside holding Steve's hand - a sort of silent announcement to the world. "It won't be easy."
"I don't care," Steve promises, kissing the palm of your hand. "I'm tired of hiding. I'm proud to call you mine."
You tenderly stroke his cheek, "And if it blows up in your pretty face?"
He smiles down at you, "You're worth it."
"We'll pay the price, I guess." But deep down, you know. You'll pay the price, he won't.
The cameras had never been that loud before. Even though your announcement went off without a hitch, even though your publicist couldn't have been more pleased, not even they could have predicted how bad things would get.
It seemed like the whole world was calling you that four letter word.
At first, it was mostly online. People were mean, you knew that. You were prepared for nasty comments. Steve's most staunch supporters thought he could do better. People rejoiced in the spectacle your love life turned into. You were a laughing stock all over again. All that you were prepared for. Then some rabid fans leaked your phone number.
You decided that it would be a good time to disconnect anyway.
But it didn't end there. Not even close.
The day after you were expected to make an appearance for a charity you founded. It was just a quick 2 minute speech. And though the event had been throughly vetted, you'd never forget the way your blood ran cold when mid-sentence someone screamed that four letter word over and over again until security dragged them out. You continued until your speech was done, but there was no hiding the way your hands trembled.
From what you heard, the video was still making its rounds online.
You were expected to make an appearance two days after that. An event honoring your father. An event you poured your blood, sweat, and tears into to make sure it was impeccable, an event worthy of honoring your father. The same event you were practically uninvited from.
"Hello?"
"Hey, it's just me. I come in peace," Tony jokes.
"I'm glad," you sigh. "I was worried I was going to have to get another number."
Tony sighs into the phone, "How are you holding up?"
"I've been better."
"I'm afraid I don't come bearing good news."
"What now, Tony?"
"That event you had Friday night, the one for dad?"
You pinch the bridge of your nose. You already knew were this was going. "What about it?"
"They want me to take over for you."
You bitterly scoff, "This week just keeps getting better and better, doesn't it?"
"You say the word and I'll tell them to fuck off."
"No, don't do that. It's for dad."
"You planned this whole thing single-handedly. You deserve to be the one up there." You don't say a word. He's right, you both know it. It doesn't change the situation you've been put in. "You are still going, right? Come on, you have to go."
"They broke into my house, Tony."
"What? Are you okay?"
"Happy just told me," you explain, sparing Tony the most gory details. "The one in L.A. Apparently, it is now covered in spray paint. You wanna guess what they wrote?"
"Where was your security?" Tony demands.
"Here. Trying to keep people off my sidewalk."
"I'm so sorry."
"I just - I don't think it's a good idea. At least until I get more security."
"I can't believe I'm saying this, but I'm glad you've got Steve there. At least I know he'll keep you safe."
You almost smile. Tony was never his biggest fan, but you mostly credit that to him being an overprotective big brother. And the situation you'd found yourself in did nothing to win Tony's over good graces, "It's not his fault, Tony."
"It kinda is, but I digress. Listen, we'll figure this out, alright? I'll go streak in front of the Tower if that'll take some heat off of you."
And though you effectively doubled your security in the last two days, nothing would change anyone's mind about you. You were the villain tainting their hero.
You broke down after that call, violently sobbing against Steve's shoulder. He just pulled you in even tighter.
It reminds you of why you're doing all this. So you can be together, out in the open. That in a world of boys, he's a gentleman.
You squeeze his hand, "You're worth it."
"I'm not worth having your reputation torn to shreds."
And maybe they're right about you. Maybe you do get love struck. Maybe his eyes are like the world's strongest liquor, and it went straight to your head. Maybe you do get love sick. Sure, your life has momentarily fallen apart. It's magic, madness, heaven, and sin, all rolled into one. But if they're going to call you a slut, it might be worth it for once. "But what if all I need is you?"
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d-z20 · 4 days ago
Text
The Agent Next Door part 3 (NSFW)
Pairing: Agent Rio Vidal x Reader
Summary: When a ghost from Rio's past resurfaces, the safe haven you’ve built together is threatened. As danger edges closer, your bond deepens in unexpected ways, testing your trust and strength in each other. Amidst fear and uncertainty, you discover just how far both of you are willing to go to protect what matters most.
Warnings: 18+ MDNI, angst, smut, fluff ending, fingering (R recv), oral (Rio recv), praise kink, slight power bottom Rio
Words: 4.2k
A/N: The angsty third (and final?) part as promised
AO3 | Part 1 | Part 2 | Master List
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Under Her Protection
You’re sprawled out on Rio’s couch, nestled comfortably against her side as the TV plays in the background. It’s the kind of night you’ve both come to love—no plans, no rush, just the two of you together, half-watching some crime drama. You can feel the steady rise and fall of her chest as you rest your head there, her arm slung casually around your shoulders, fingers absently tracing patterns on your arm.
It’s a rare, peaceful moment, one that you’ve started to cherish more and more. You glance up at her; she looks different like this—softer. The usual tension in her jaw has melted away; her sharp features relaxed in a way you rarely get to see. You smile to yourself, the sight of her at ease filling you with a quiet kind of joy. She’s not just the composed, authoritative FBI agent you first met. Here, she’s Rio—your Rio—and you could watch her like this forever.
You press a kiss to her jaw, feeling her smile against your lips.
“Enjoying the show?” she asks, her voice teasing. You know she couldn’t care less about what’s on the screen, but it’s a running joke between the two of you—mocking the exaggerated, overly dramatic FBI agents depicted on TV.
“Oh, absolutely,” you drawl, playing along. “I just love how accurate it all is. Clearly, every case is solved in a day, and all agents wear heels and leather jackets.”
Rio chuckles, pulling you closer. “It’s ridiculous,” she snorts. “Half of this would get thrown out in court in a heartbeat. And don’t even get me started on the ‘enhance the grainy footage’ bullshit.”
You grin, enjoying the rare, playful side of her. “I bet you’d never pull a stunt like that. The great Agent Vidal would never dream of cutting corners.”
She raises an eyebrow, her smirk sharp. “Oh, you’d be surprised what I’ve pulled off. Sometimes rules are more like... guidelines.”
You laugh, leaning into her, and she squeezes your shoulder lightly. For a moment, everything feels easy—peaceful.
Then her phone buzzes, cutting through the quiet. She lets out a small sigh and picks it up, her expression immediately shifting as she reads the message. The shift is so sudden it makes your stomach drop. Without a word, she gets up and walks to the window, peering through the blinds like she’s expecting to see something—or someone—out there.
“Rio?” You ask cautiously, sitting up. “What’s wrong?”
She doesn’t answer right away, her shoulders visibly tense. Finally, she lets the blinds fall back into place and turns to you, her expression grim. “That was work,” she says, her voice low and controlled. “Someone I put away years ago just got released on parole. He... wasn’t supposed to get out this soon.”
You frown, confused. “Why is that a problem? Didn’t he serve his time?”
Her jaw tightens, and for a moment, you think she won’t answer. Then she sighs, running a hand through her hair. “The last time I saw him, he threatened to ruin my life,” she says quietly. “He’s dangerous. And vindictive. If he finds out where I live... who you are... how much I lov—.”
She doesn’t finish the sentence, but she doesn’t have to. The implications hang heavy in the air. You swallow hard, suddenly very aware of the weight of her job and the risks that come with it.
“Hey,” you say softly, standing and moving to her side. “I’m sure it’s fine. He probably doesn’t even know you’re here.”
Her eyes meet yours, and for the first time since you met her, you see real fear there. “Maybe. But I can’t take that chance.” She pauses, her hand brushing your arm. “I want you to stay here. At least until I figure out what’s going on.”
The seriousness in her tone leaves no room for argument, and you nod. “Okay. I’ll stay.”
You settle back onto the couch together, but the atmosphere has shifted now, an unspoken tension lingering in the room. Rio keeps her phone close, her other arm wrapped protectively around you, her eyes flicking back to the window every so often.
You try to focus on the TV show, but your thoughts keep drifting. It’s unsettling, this shadow of a threat hanging over the two of you, and you can tell Rio feels it too. Her grip on you tightens every time she hears a noise from outside, her thumb rubbing circles against your arm as if she’s trying to soothe both of you.
Eventually, you turn your head to look up at her. “You know, I don’t need a TV show when I’ve got my own personal action hero right here.”
Rio snorts, shaking her head. “Is that what I am now?”
“Yep,” you say, grinning up at her. “Neighbour, fashion critic, and now... bodyguard.”
She rolls her eyes but leans down to press a kiss to your lips, soft and lingering. “Just stay close, okay?”
You nod, your heart fluttering at the protectiveness in her voice. “I’m not going anywhere, Rio.”
Relief flashes across her face, but it’s fleeting. She takes your hand, leading you to her bedroom without another word. The silence between you is heavy but not uncomfortable—it’s charged, humming with unspoken worry and a need for closeness.
When you get to the bed, her hands are on you immediately, tugging you close. There’s a new intensity to her touch, her fingers gripping your hips firmly, almost possessively. She kisses you hard, like she’s trying to stake her claim, her mouth moving with an urgency you’ve never felt from her before.
“Rio—” you start, but she cuts you off with another kiss, her hands sliding under your shirt, nails raking up your skin. Her lips move to your neck, sucking and biting hard enough to leave marks that you know will last. It’s not just passion—it’s something deeper, rawer. Like she needs to prove to herself that you’re here, that you’re hers.
You let her take the lead, your own hands roaming her body, trying to reassure her in your own way. But she’s relentless, her mouth trailing lower, her teeth grazing your collarbone. She pushes you back onto the bed, her weight settling over you as she pins your wrists above your head.
Her gaze is dark, her eyes searching yours. “I need to know you’re safe,” she murmurs, her voice rough. “I need to feel it.”
You nod, your heart pounding in your chest. “I’m not going anywhere,” you whisper, and it’s the truth.
Her grip on your wrists tightens briefly before she leans down, kissing you again, slower this time but no less intense. 
The night is a blur of heated touches and whispered reassurances, her possessiveness never crossing the line into discomfort. Instead, it leaves you breathless, the depth of her need for you pulling you even closer.
When you finally fall asleep, tangled in her arms, the weight of her protectiveness wraps around you like a shield. Even as your mind drifts, you know this is only the beginning of whatever storm is coming. But with her by your side, you’re ready to face it.
You’ve been staying at Rio’s apartment for a week now, and every night, her hold on you seems to grow tighter. Even in her sleep, her arms remain locked around you, as though her subconscious refuses to let you out of her grasp. It’s a level of protectiveness you’re not used to, but you can’t deny how safe it makes you feel.
The days are a strange mix of normalcy and subtle unease. You run errands, cook together, and share quiet moments on her couch. But in the back of your mind, there’s always a faint sense of being watched. You’ve chalked it up to paranoia—Rio’s warning had a way of sticking with you, and you tell yourself you’re just imagining things.
Still, it’s hard to ignore the nagging feeling when you start seeing the same person more than once. A tall figure with a hood pulled low over their face, lingering at the edge of your vision. You’ve seen them on the street, at the corner store, and now again as you leave the grocery shop, arms full of bags. You glance over your shoulder, your pulse quickening as you catch sight of them just a few steps behind.
You quicken your pace, gripping the bags tightly. Your heart pounds in your chest as you cut across the street and head for the apartment building. You take a chance and glance back again. They’re still following.
By the time you reach Rio’s apartment door, your hands are shaking so badly you almost drop your keys. You fumble with the lock, finally getting the door open and slamming it shut behind you. You lock it, bolting the deadlock for good measure.
You text Rio immediately: I think I was followed. Just got back. Door locked.
The response comes quickly. Stay put. Don’t answer the door for anyone. I’m coming back now.
You breathe out, trying to calm yourself, but as you read her words, a new sound sends a chill down your spine. A faint rattle at the door.
Your stomach drops, and you freeze, staring at the door as the sound grows louder. It’s not your imagination. Someone’s trying the handle. Your mind races, and you grab the closest thing within reach—a table lamp. It’s not exactly a weapon, but it’ll have to do. Your grip tightens on the lamp’s base as the rattling stops, replaced by a loud bang.
The door crashes open, splintering the frame, and the hooded figure steps inside. They’re taller than you thought, their broad frame filling the doorway as they pause, scanning the room. You take a shaky step back, your heart pounding in your ears.
“Well, well,” he says, his voice dripping with malice. “Look who’s made themselves right at home. You must be the little pet she’s been keeping around.” 
Your mind races, and you instinctively take a step back, trying to put the kitchen island between you and him. “Who the hell are you?” you demand. 
He smirks, leaning against the doorframe. “You don’t know me, but Rio does. She’s the reason I spent the last ten years rotting away in a cell. Thought I’d pay her back by taking something she cares about.”
He lunges at you with a knife, and you barely manage to swing the lamp, hitting him across the face. He staggers back, but only for a moment, then charges at you again. You fight back, kicking and screaming, but he’s strong—stronger than you expected. He pins you against the wall, one hand around your throat. 
“That’s right, scream for her,” he growls. “Let’s see if she gets here in time.” 
You’re gasping for air, your vision blurring, when suddenly, the already broken door is rammed open again, falling off its hinges from the force of the action. 
Rio barges in, her gun drawn, her expression a mixture of fury and fear. “Let them go,” she says, her voice deadly calm, the kind that promises retribution. 
The man tightens his grip on you, pulling you in front of him as a shield. “Shoot me, and you’ll hit them,” he taunts. 
Rio’s eyes meet yours, and you can see the raw, helpless anger there. You’ve never seen her look so terrified.
The man tightens his grip on you, and your vision starts to black. Your pulse pounds in your ears, the lack of air making your limbs feel heavy. Rio stands frozen in the doorway, her gun unwavering, her eyes locked on the man holding you.
“Let them go,” Rio repeats, her voice low and seething with barely restrained fury.
The man smirks, his grip loosening just enough for you to gasp for air. “You really think you’ve got the upper hand here, bitch? You’re so predictable—always running to play the hero.”
Rio doesn’t flinch. “This is the last chance I’ll give you. Let. Them. Go. Now.”
He sneers, then suddenly shoves you away with all his strength. You stumble, hitting the edge of the kitchen counter hard before crumpling to the floor, pain flaring in your side. Rio’s shout of your name echoes through the room, but you can barely focus as you clutch at your ribs, trying to steady your breathing.
The distraction is all Rio needs. She lunges at him before he can turn back to her, knocking the knife from his hand as they crash to the floor. The struggle is brutal—a chaotic blur of punches and grunts as Rio fights with a ferocity you’ve never seen before.
He manages to pin her briefly, his hands going for her throat, but Rio uses the momentum to roll them over, her knee pressing into his chest. She grabs the cuff of his wrist and twists him onto his stomach, forcing him to let out a pained shout as she pins his arm behind his back.
“You should’ve let them go,” she growls, forcing his face against the floor. He thrashes beneath her, but her grip is unrelenting, her strength fuelled by sheer fury.
She pulls her cuffs from her belt, snapping them onto his wrists with a finality that fills the room. She grabs his hair and yanks his head up, knee still pressing into his back. “And now you’re going to pay,” she says coldly before smashing his face into the ground, breaking his nose, and knocking him unconscious.
Her eyes flick to you, her expression softening with worry. “Are you okay?”
Before you can answer, Rio pulls out her phone, calling for backup. Her voice is calm and clipped as she gives the necessary details, but her free hand remains clenched at her side, still shaking from the adrenaline.
When the call ends, she crouches next to you, her hands ghosting over your body, careful not to touch the areas where you’re clearly in pain. “Hey, let me see,” she murmurs, her tone gentle now. “Where are you hurt?”
You wince as you shift, trying to sit up. “Just... my side. Think I hit the counter pretty hard.”
Her jaw tightens, and for a moment, you think she might explode all over again—but she just exhales, brushing a hand over your hair. “Backup’s on the way. He’s not going anywhere. I promise you’re safe now.”
You nod weakly, and she leans closer, her forehead briefly touching yours. The tension in her body doesn’t ease until the distant wail of sirens signals that help has arrived. Even then, her focus stays on you, her protective presence a shield between you and the man who dared to threaten what she holds most dear.
With the chaos finally under control and the intruder hauled away in handcuffs, Rio keeps a steady arm around you as she guides you back across the hall to your apartment. You can still feel the tremors in your hands, the echo of fear and adrenaline in your veins, but her presence is grounding.
As the door closes behind you, she doesn’t let go. Instead, she leads you to the couch, sitting beside you with her arm securely around your shoulders. “You okay?” she asks softly, her fingers brushing a stray lock of hair from your face.
You nod, leaning into her touch. “Yeah. Just... processing.”
A flicker of guilt crosses Rio’s face. “I never should’ve left you alone.”
“You couldn’t have known,” you reply, reaching up to squeeze her hand. “And you came back in time. That’s what matters.”
She exhales heavily, her arms tightening around you protectively. For a while, neither of you speak, the silence broken only by the rhythmic sound of her breathing. Then she shifts, her thumb brushing against your knuckles. “I mean it, though—I’m not letting you out of my sight for a while.”
You roll your eyes but don’t argue. The truth is, you don’t mind the idea of her staying close.
As the evening wears on, you begin to feel a sense of normalcy returning. Wrapped in her arms, you finally let your guard down, the weight of the day melting away. You tilt your head up to meet her gaze, your heart skipping as you notice the way she’s looking at you—soft yet intent.
“You’re staring,” you tease, your voice quiet.
“Can’t help it,” she murmurs, a faint smirk tugging at her lips. “You’re kind of hard to look away from.”
Your cheeks flush, but before you can respond, her lips capture yours in a kiss that’s slow and deliberate, like she’s savouring every moment. You respond eagerly, your fingers tangling in her hair as she shifts to deepen the kiss.
Somehow, the two of you end up lying on the couch, her body pressing against yours as your hands roam freely, exploring the familiar territory with renewed fervour. She pulls away just long enough to catch her breath, her forehead resting against yours. “Bedroom?” she whispers, her voice husky.
You nod, your heart racing as she helps you to your feet. The walk to the bedroom is brief, but each step feels charged with anticipation. 
You guide her to the bed, her hand sliding into yours as you both move with an unspoken understanding. She lets you press her down gently so she’s sitting on the mattress, her signature smirk tugging at her lips. “So, this is how it’s going to be tonight?” she teases, her voice low, challenging but still laced with warmth. Her eyes glint with curiosity, though you can sense she’s enjoying this shift in control. “Guess I can let you take the lead. Just this once.”
You can’t help but laugh softly, leaning down to press a playful kiss to her lips. “Call it a thank you for saving me. Hero perks, right?” You reply, your voice just as teasing.
Her chuckle rumbles low in her throat as her hands settle lightly on your hips, grounding you. “You’ve got an interesting way of saying thanks,” she murmurs, tilting her head to expose her neck—an invitation and a challenge all at once. “But I’m not complaining.”
You take her challenge with a grin, leaning down to press your lips to her neck, your kisses starting soft but quickly growing more heated. You find the spot just below her ear where her skin is most sensitive, and when she lets out a low, pleased hum, you focus your attention there. Your tongue darts out, followed by a sharp nip of your teeth, before you suck on her skin, leaving a mark to match the ones she gave you just nights ago.
She tilts her head back with a soft gasp, her fingers tightening their grip on your hips. “You’re getting good at that,” she murmurs, her tone teasing but breathless. Her words spur you on, and you trail more kisses down her neck, each one deliberate, each one claiming her in your own way.
As your lips continue their path, your hands slide over her body, unbuttoning her shirt and tugging it off. Your eyes roam her, taking in every inch of her toned body and the way her muscles flex under your touch.
“Enjoying the view?” she teases, arching a brow, but there’s a flush on her cheeks that betrays her confidence.
“Absolutely,” you reply without hesitation, earning a quiet laugh from her.
Your hands move to the waistband of her pants, your fingers brushing against her skin as you pull them down, leaving her bare before you. You grab her hips, pulling her into you so she’s perched on the edge of the bed, your legs pushing her knees further apart. Her dark eyes meet yours, filled with a mixture of anticipation and challenge, and you can’t help but feel a surge of affection and desire for her all at once.
“You look good like this,” you say softly, your hands trailing up her thighs as you kneel between them.
Rio leans back on her palms, her smirk widening. “Show me just how grateful you are, sweetheart.”
Looking directly into Rio’s eyes, you drag your tongue through her wetness. 
“That’s it,” she breathes, her voice huskier now. Her nails coming to dig lightly into your shoulder as her body shifts beneath you. 
Hooking your arms under her legs, you push your face further into Rio, tongue pressing firmer against her clit and she rolls her hips at the sensation. Your tongue swirls over and around her bundle of nerves, eliciting more praise. “You’re so good at this, sweetheart,” she says, her tone uncharacteristically tender.
The praise makes your stomach flip, and you press your thighs together, feeling your arousal soak your underwear.
You notice the subtle change in her demeanour, her usual teasing grin replaced by something softer, more vulnerable. Her hands grip you tightly, but there’s a gentleness to her touch you hadn’t expected. “I don’t give up control often. But with you... it feels right.” Her voice falters slightly, and the admission makes your heart ache with tenderness.
As her orgasm builds, she finally lets go entirely, her usual defences falling away. Her head tilts back, her breathy praises and quiet gasps filling the space. After she reaches her peak, she pulls you up to her, her arms wrapping around you tightly as if grounding herself. “You’re incredible,” she whispers into your ear, her lips brushing against your temple as she catches her breath. “But don’t think I’m done with you yet.”
Her smirk returns, this time sharper, more determined. Before you can respond, she drags you down on to the bed, flipping you gently onto your back. Her strength is firm but careful, her lips curling in amusement at your surprised expression. “Your turn,” she murmurs, her voice low and promising. She begins to trail kisses down your body, her actions deliberate and knowing. “Let me show you how grateful I am,” she adds, her grin growing as your body arches beneath her touch.
With that, she strips you, her soft hands feeling all over your body. When her fingers trail up your thigh, she lets out a soft chuckle at the feeling of your arousal dripping. “Seems like someone enjoyed the praise.” 
You whimper as her fingers press lightly against your clit.
“You made me feel so good, baby.” Her middle finger slides lower. “Such a clever girl.” She teases your entrance. “You know exactly how I like it.” She pushes her finger in.
“Yes, fuck, yes,” you moan as it curls inside you. “More.”
Rio slides another finger in, biting her lip and groaning at how easily you take it. "Oh, darling, you’re taking me so well,” she praises, starting to pump her fingers in and out. She adds a third, and you feel the familiar tightening in your stomach. She picks up the pace, fucking all of the tension from the night out of you both. “You look so good like this,” she coos.
Arching into her touch, head pushing into the mattress, you keen, “Oh fuck. Rio, you’re going to make me cum.”
“That’s it, sweetheart; you’re doing so well, cum for me,” she whispers against your skin, kissing your neck.
Your mouth falls open, a breathless cry escaping as your orgasm overtakes you. The tension that had been building within you shatters, a wave of heat and pleasure coursing through your body. You arch into her, every nerve alight, the sensation so overwhelming that it renders you momentarily weightless. A strangled gasp follows, your voice raw and unrestrained, her name slipping from your lips like a plea and a prayer all at once.
Later, as the two of you lay tangled in the sheets, Rio’s arms wrap tightly around you, holding you, refusing to let go. The tension of the night seems to fade, replaced by a sense of closeness you hadn’t fully realised until now. She presses a kiss to the top of your head, her fingers tracing absent patterns along your back.
“You know,” she begins softly, her voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t usually do this—let people in, I mean. I don’t let myself feel this way.” She hesitates, her grip on you tightening slightly. “But with you... I can’t imagine not having you here.”
Your chest tightens at her words, and you tilt your head to meet her gaze. The raw vulnerability in her eyes makes your heart ache. “Rio...” you begin, your voice trembling slightly as your hand brushes against her cheek. “I love you.”
Her lips part in surprise, and then her smile grows, soft and genuine in a way you rarely see. “Took you long enough to say it,” she teases, though her voice is thick with emotion. She leans down, brushing her lips against yours in a kiss that’s slow and tender. When she pulls back, her eyes lock with yours. “I love you too, you know.”
You crack a small smile. “So, I guess you’re gonna be the one crashing at my place now, huh? Seeing as it’s your door that got kicked in this time,” you say, breaking the tender moment.
Rio blinks at you, then lets out a soft laugh. “You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?”
“Not a chance,” you reply, grinning now.
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drunkinyourbenz · 2 months ago
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reunited
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summary: you’re billie’s girlfriend of just over a year and you surprise her on tour after not seeing her for weeks. dom billie x fem reader 2.1k words warnings: oral (reader receiving), teasing, so so fluffy they're cute and in love <3, unedited
billie was on stage performing, and you could see the adrenaline and excitement literally radiating off her. the crowd was wild—which billie always loved���and this was possibly the best show of the tour so far. the energy was unmatched, and you were in awe of how beautiful and free she always looked onstage. you loved seeing her interact with her fans and sing her heart out, it was a truly beautiful sight. 
billie was totally unaware of the fact that you were backstage, and you watched her perform with a fond smile on your face—you and her had been dating for a little over a year, and it had been the best year of your entire life. 
she’d been on tour for the past month, and it was probably the longest time you’d spent apart since you confessed your feelings to her. you’d called every night and texted constantly, and there’d been a fair share of phone sex when you’d both been too needy to wait until you saw each other in person again. 
but now you were here, backstage at her concert, listening to her gorgeous voice and watching her with a wide smile as she sang the last song. 
finneas and maggie had helped you get here without her knowing, finneas making sure to tell you all about the extent to which she had complained about missing you. maggie had been incredibly happy when you created the group chat to suggest the surprise, clearly glad that her daughter had finally found someone willing to put in effort for her. to say you were her family’s favourite of everyone she’d dated would be an understatement. 
the concert eventually ended, and billie walked backstage while speaking to finneas. her sentence was cut off when she saw you standing there, doing a double take as her eyes widened. her steps halted, and she stared at you with an open mouth for a second before coming to her senses. as soon as her feet were no longer locked to the floor, she was running towards you.
her arms wrapped around you, the momentum of her running to you making the two of you do a little spin as you grabbed onto each other. she clung onto the fabric of your shirt as she buried her head in your neck. she breathed in deeply, savouring the feeling of being close to you again. 
after a few minutes, she finally pulled away from the embrace, looking at you with a soft look in her eyes. “you’re here, oh my god. you came. you have no idea how happy this makes me…” 
you smiled at her, finneas nudging your shoulder as he walked past with a small grin directed at the two of you. you rolled your eyes fondly at him before speaking, “of course i did. couldn’t go another month and a half without you.” 
finneas sent you a pointed look, glancing between you and billie. “okay, lovebirds. i want to point out that i helped her get here, by the way.”
billie grinned at her brother, “you’re my second favourite person in the world, finneas.” 
with a faux offended expression, finneas gasped dramatically. “i feel so betrayed. your own brother, replaced at number two?” 
billie still had her arm wrapped around your shoulders, and she pressed a quick kiss to the top of your head. “obviously.” 
finneas rolled his eyes, starting to walk away to find claudia, “wow, i didn’t know the lack of love you had in your heart for me. i’m leaving.” 
billie laughed as he walked away, not gracing his overdramatic words with a response. she turned to you, her eyes shining slightly. “god, baby… can’t believe you’re here…” 
you smile at her, pressing a soft kiss to her lips. billie’s lips chased after your own when you moved to pull away, kissing you desperately, never wanting to let go. after a moment, she pulls back, gazing into your eyes. “mmm, i’ve wanted to do that for the last two months. never stopped thinking about how your lips feel on mine.” 
you grinned playfully at her, “i bet you thought about how my lips feel somewhere else, too.” 
billie’s mouth fell open for a moment at your bold words, but the surprise was quickly replaced by a smirk, her eyes trailing down your body. 
“you know me so well…” her hands quickly found your waist, her thumbs rubbing soft circles on the bare skin between the waistband of your pants and the hem of your shirt. her tongue darted out to lick her lips, her eyes still locked on yours. “y’know, i think my dressing room should be empty for a while…” 
you mirrored her smirk at her words, picking up on the less than subtle innuendo as her eyes continue to trail up and down your figure. “yeah? lead the way, pretty.” 
her smirk widened, instantly intertwining your fingers together and pulling you to follow her. any other day, her hand probably would’ve been around your wrist, in a firmer, more possessive hold. but she was still in shock that you were even there with her, so she was being slightly  softer with you than normal. she was holding your hand as if she thinks you’d disappear if she were to hold you too harshly, like you’d just fade away and she’d be alone again. 
she wasn’t talking about it, but you knew she missed you more than she was letting on. every day without you had felt like absolute torture, and her family had watched her on the tour bus literally falling apart just because you weren’t there. the constant face-timing couldn’t compare to the feeling of your hand in hers, she was fully convinced that no feeling would ever make her feel more at peace than being close to you.
you arrived at her dressing room sooner than you’d thought you would, and she fumbled with the door handle for a second too long, before pulling you inside after her. 
her hand moved to lock the door, and you knew you were in for it. she wasn’t going to be rough, no, not this time. but this could be soft and still torturous. 
once the door was locked, she turned to you, giving you a smirk as she looked you up and down for a moment before slowly backing you into the wall. she pressed you against the wall and you didn’t even try to resist, a soft smile on your lips. you couldn’t deny how soft this felt, you were aware of the small differences in her actions—as if the time apart had made her scared of losing you.
she kissed you again, more urgently than the last. her tongue brushed along your bottom lip before she bit at it softly, leading to you opening your mouth in a gasp. she smiled against your lips and slipped her tongue inside your mouth, her body pressing closer against yours as she kept you against the wall. her knee pressed up between your thighs and a moan spilled out of your lips. 
her hands found your waist, her cool fingers slowly creeping up underneath the hem of your shirt as her tongue continues to explore your mouth. her hands travelled further up under your shirt, leaving trails of goosebumps where she touched. one hand teasingly squeezed at your breast through your bra and the other deftly pulled your shirt over your head, tossing it on the ground somewhere—she couldn’t care less where it landed. 
she let one of her hands snake around your back to the clasp of your bra, which she fumbled with for a moment out of her eagerness. soon, your bra had joined your shirt and her hands were drawn to your breasts like magnets. she seemed almost hypnotised, her eyes drinking in everything they’d been missing while the two of you had been apart. she gave one of your nipples a teasing tweak before her hands slowly trailed down your sides. 
one of her hands moved to hook in the loop of your jeans. she seemed impatient, despite clearly wanting to take her time. she wanted to savour this reunion, but she also wanted to be between your thighs as soon as she possibly could. 
moments later, she’d repositioned you so you were lying on the couch, your back propped up slightly by pillows. her hands had tugged your jeans halfway down your legs, and you impatiently kicked them off to join your shirt on the floor. 
she settled between your legs, looking up at you with her signature grin before hooking her index finger around your panties and pulling them down your thighs. she carelessly chucked them behind her somewhere, assuming they’d land in the vicinity of your other discarded clothes. in all honesty, where your underwear landed was the least of her concerns—she’d much prefer if you never wore them ever again. 
her ring-clad hands firmly grip your thighs, pulling them apart and leaving no room for argument—not that you wanted to argue. this was what you’d been waiting for for months. “billie, please–” the utter desperation, the pleading tone in which you spoke to her, brought a smirk to billie’s lips. she pressed soft, open mouthed kisses around your thighs, holding eye contact with you. 
“yeah, baby? what do you need?” you whined, an honestly pathetic sound—but you didn’t care how pathetic you sounded, you needed your girlfriend. billie didn’t care about the patheticness of it all either, in fact, it seemed to make her lips twitch further up into a pleased smirk. she loved having you desperate, having you aching for her. 
you finally managed to form the words to respond to her, “you, billie, your mouth, your fingers, i don’t care. You.”
her smirk widened, her kisses travelling ever so slightly closer to where she knew you needed her. she hummed softly, the noise sending vibrations along your skin and sending a shiver down your spine. her teeth nipped softly at the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, a teasing smirk on her face as she looked up at you. 
“yeah, pretty girl? you need me?” 
you didn’t get time to respond before she was licking a stripe up your folds, still gripping your thighs firmly. her tongue travelled up to your clit and circled it, making you let out a moan and throw your head back onto the couch cushions. you had missed her. so, so much.
she held your thighs open when they threatened to close around her head, a particularly tantalising lick through your folds making your back arch up off the couch slightly. she smirked again, looking up at you with those eyes that held a sort of smug mischief in them. she knew exactly what to do to drive you crazy, and she was intending on doing just that. 
“oh? you like that?” 
you hummed softly, nodding quickly because you couldn’t quite form words but you needed her to know that you very much liked it. you felt hopeless, the desperation you felt was unlike any you’d felt in a long time. you decided to blame that on the extensive time apart, which had felt like torture. 
her tongue continues its assault on you, lapping away at you like a starved woman—with the time you’d been separated for tour, you guessed she kind of was. one hand moved slightly from its grasp on your thigh, and she circled your clit in a way that made you throw your head back and let out a low moan. she felt your thighs shudder slightly around her head, and you felt her lips twitch up against her sensitive skin. she knew you were close, she could feel it. 
she spoke, still pressed up against you so she could go right back to eating you out after she got the words out, “that’s a good girl, cum for me.” 
at her words, you let out another loud moan, head falling back onto the support of the couch cushions as your long awaited release came over you. you had just spent months without her, without her touch, without her love, and you felt the relief wash over you at the knowledge that you were finally close to her again. 
billie smirked again as she felt you cum on her face, her tongue riding you through it as she lapped up your juices. she had missed this. 
you breathe deeply for a moment, before finally bringing yourself to lift your head up off the couch cushions and make eye contact with her. she had that proud smirk on her face as she watched you from in between your thighs, “feel good, pretty?” 
you manage a small grin at her, “very much so.” you paused, looking at her for a moment as you recovered from the intense feeling of your first orgasm from her in months. you spoke again, a playful smirk playing on your lips. “my turn now.” 
after all, the night was young. the night was young and you were finally together again, you had all the time in the world.
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this is unironically the first smut i’ve ever written sooo i hope you liked it…
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chososwifey24-7 · 3 months ago
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Resisting Death
Tojix fem!reader.
Cw: NSFW, rough Toji, bondage, protection, creampie, mating press, pussy eating, fondling, pet names (doll, ma), manhandling, overstimulating, mentions of violence, mentions of drugs, mentions of alcohol, mentions of neglect, mentions of murder, swearing.
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"Stay in your room."
"Go play outside."
"Leave me alone."
Those words are the words you've heard from your father your entire life. You were almost sure that those were the only words in his vocabulary. He was a busy man, he claimed. A busy businessman. Although he was a major asshole.
He was always shoving you out of his office as a child. He was always handing you toys as a child, and as you became an teen, he was throwing money in your face to leave him alone.
Where did he get all this money. One word. Drugs. That's what he sold. That was his whole grand scheme of a business. Suck the money out of people, get them addicted, and when they couldn't pay him anymore? He kicked them to the curb.
He was truly a monster. Even with being a monster, he had people surrounding him treating him as if he were a god. He was nothing of the sort. They did anything for him. Risked their lives, ran the factories, and sold the drugs. Even taking the downfall to prove their worth to your father. Peice of shit.
Even though he had those willing to sacrifice their lives for him. There were those who were willing to sacrifice their lives against him. He took, and took, and took until there was nothing left to take. Money, collateral, lives. He didn't care. He took it all. That's what made your father a hated man.
Where was your mother? Gone. She left before you even got the chance to meet her. Your father even once blames you for it, but you knew it wasn't your fault. You were simply your father's scapegoat.
That's why as soon as you turned 18, you got your ass out of there. Taking the money you had saved from your father throwing it at you and leaving. You had gone to Japan. Even went as far as learning Japanese so that you could blend in with society.
That's how life went. It was smooth.
❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁
You had left three years from today now since you had left from that house. It was your birthday, and you were sitting in a library finishing off some college work. Your father had gone as far as sending you money to ensure you stayed away.
You weren't complaining.
Typing up your third essay of the day sipping on a warm cup of tea, you relaxed a bit. Life was going smoothly. Recently, though, your father had been calling you. Only in suggestion that you get some bodyguards, but you refused.
You weren't getting tied up in his business.
Finishing the essay slowly, but surely you leaned back in the chair and stretched, feeling your back pop a bit. You packed up your belongings in your backpack and made your way to your apartment.
It was a fairly nice apartment, very spacious and in a nice complex. It was well taken care of. It was home.
The walk home was fairly quiet, considering it was later in the evening. Not terribly late, but enough so that parents were getting there children home and put to bed.
You had a route. One that got you home quickly and fairly safely. Cutting through alleyways instead of waiting at street lights all the time.
That's whe.n you felt it, that unfamiliar and eerie feeling of being watched. You stopped as you rounded the alleyway corner and looked around you, but there was nothing.
Trying to shake off the feeling of being followed, you make your way towards the subway. There were more people there. No one would try anything at the subway.
As you make your way down the stairs to the platform, you wait. You look around you once again, paranoid, and you spot a man with black hair watching you from a distance. Just staring.
He didn't approach you, but if he did, there was nothing you could do to fight back. He was tall, large, and must have been a body builder or a fighter. Because with that physique, no man could challenge him.
Seeing as the subway had stopped, you stepped on, taking the way back home. You never did shake that terrified feeling, but you felt somewhat better in the subway. More people, more protection.
That's what you thought. Until you turned your head to see that same man on the subway, but closer to you. He was looking elsewhere this time instead of on you, but he still had a bad feeling to him.
So when that train stopped and those doors opened, you ran. You ran like your little life depended on it. You didn't know if he was following, didn't care to look back. Only horror movie idiots did that. You just ran.
You arrived at your front door and fumbled with your keys, and then you felt it. A gun on your lower back and a man whispering 'boo' into your ear. You didn't dare move, didn't even flinch. No screaming, no more running. You were caught.
"Aww, come on doll, scream, turn around, and hit me. Or ya know, try too."
He snickered and mocked you, shoving the barrel harder into your side.
"Please don't kill me, I'll give you anything you want. Drugs, money, you can have it."
He only snickered at your response again, grabbing you by the hair and leaning right next to your ear. The pain in your head was throbbing, but you could handle it if it meant life.
"Drugs? Really? I'm actually here regarding that. Someone wants ya dead doll. All cause of ya stupid drug dealing dad."
That's when it hit you. You'd never made enemies. Your dad had. What a bitter sweet lesson to be relearning.
"But about the money, I'm already getting paid a pretty penny to kill ya, so I couldn't care less about no damn money."
His hand moved up and down your side, though. He hummed in thought.
"But you're so damn pretty, I wouldn't wanna kill ya. So I wonder..."
He paused again and you leaned back into him to alleviate the feeling of pain in your scalp. He still had a grip on your hair. That'd when you chimed in.
"If you want sex we can have sex. Your hit, you think I'm pretty, I live and pay you, and you have money. Deal?"
You shivered as he let out a low growl.
He liked the sound if that.
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That's how you found yourself tied to your bed and being put into the meanest mating press you'd been in. He grunted and groaned as his cock slammed into you.
It was heavenly.
He was so damn bug he filled you full. Even while he was wearing a condom. Something about he didn't need another brat. He just kept plowing into you.
Some drool hung out of your mouth, and your eyes were in the back of your head. The funnier thing is you didn't even know his name.
"Ah yeah, keep going, ma. Take my cock. You got it."
He kept pounding into you and praising you as he gripped your hips hard. He reached up and grabbed one of your breasts, palming it and groping it.
"Tits are so pretty ma. Just like you, fuck!"
He had cum again for the third time that night. How and why he carried condoms, you didn't know, but you were tired and spent. You had already come about four times.
You thought it was over until he untied you and roughly flipped you onto your hands and knees.
Wrapping his arms around your thighs and pulling you onto his mouth. His tongue circled your clit before he began to sick it roughly.
Your body trembled and shook as his hands held you down and held you still. You moaned and screamed at the over stimulation. Tears rolling down your cheeks as he kept going until you were cuming on his tongue.
You were fucked out and completely stupid. The last thing you could remember was his voice in your ears and his fingers in your tight can't.
"I read your file, almost forgot."
He made you cum one more time before your eyes were closing and your conscious was slipping. It was all too much.
"Happy birthday, doll."
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storm-angel989 · 5 months ago
Note
Hi, I hope you're having a good weekend. I was wondering if I could request a valentino One-shot where he finds out his daughter has been self harming and is depressed and how he and the other vees react? Thanks
Oh boy, has this one dredged up memories. 
For anyone who is going through this- I’ve been there. I promise you, it gets better. <3 My DM’s are open for anyone who ever needs to chat. Even if it feels like no one else in the world cares, I PROMISE I do. 
<3 Mandy 
Vox noticed it first. 
His niece, once bright and cheerful, seemingly overnight became sullen and withdrawn. Her usual routine of homework with him had changed somewhere. He couldn’t remember when she started slipping past him to do the homework in the quietness of the room. But always busy with his company, he chalked it up to being midyear and post break and didn’t press too much into it. 
He wished he had. 
Velvette saw it too. 
The change of clothing was her first clue that something wasn’t right. Her uniform shirts came in two styles- short and long sleeved. Skirts required. When reader sent the shirts down to be cleaned, Velvette noticed a hole in several. Unacceptable- no child in her life would dress like that. 
As she sat down at her computer to order a new set, she realized that she hadn’t seen a short sleeved shirt come down in awhile.  Unusual for the weather, but maybe reader was feeling a bit insecure about herself. She made a mental note to talk to her about it and pressed the order button before jumping back into her world of fashion. 
A pained expression crossed her face. She should have made that discussion a priority. 
Valentino watched his little girl start to fall apart at the start of her freshman year. He chalked it up to hormones and tried not to take her attitude shift too personally. After all, she was growing up. She had to know that she could come to them with any issues, right? He cursed himself for not paying closer attention, not talking to the others when he first noticed the change. 
Maybe then he wouldn’t be sitting next to his daughter, her head in Vox’s lap as he carefully worked to stitch her wrist closed. She was lucky, really, that Vox had pounded on her door when he did, even luckier that Vox didn’t value privacy over security. 
“I’m sorry, Daddy,” she sobbed. “I didn’t mean to go that far!” 
He didn’t answer, his full attention concentrated on the movement of his fingers as they pulled together the well scarred skin. 
“Shussh, it's going to be alright,” Velvette said quietly as she stroked reader’s hair. “Let your Daddy patch you up, sweetheart. It’s going to be okay.” 
Valentino swallowed as his mind flittered to the camera images. He hadn’t seen the rest of her upper body in person yet, but the image of his daughter sitting with her shirt off, cross legged on the bathroom floor, a bottle of witch hazel and cotton balls next to her- as if she had done this a thousand times before. The razor blade in her hand as she pressed it deep into her shoulder- once, twice, three times, before she moved to her wrist. Her lack of tears scared him as much as the amount of blood did. 
It was an endorphin rush. He understood it. Self harm, cutting, was a way to take away the pain. It was a distraction, a form of natural high. No different than the millions of souls addicted to what he sold. Not that it made cutting an acceptable coping mechanism, but he could at least, somehow, see the biology behind it. 
“Please don’t make me go downstairs,” she begged. “Please don’t lock me up, Daddy, Uncle Vox Auntie…”
“No one is locking you up sweetheart,” Vox said soothingly as Valentino began to wrap her wrist. 
Valentino swallowed. Could they afford to send her to a mental health facility? Sure. Was it the worst thing in the world? No. But he wasn’t willing to do that, not quite yet. Not unless a professional told him she was a suicide risk. Not unless a professional told him that is what she needed to fight this. 
“Daddy, do you hate me?” She sobbed.
His heart broke. Carefully, he pulled reader into his arms and cradled her to his chest. He pressed the palm of his hand to her ear as he held her there, safe in his hold. 
“No. I don’t. I love you, ninita.” He pressed his lips to her forehead. “You are my entire world.”
“Please don’t lock me up,” she repeated as she sobbed into him. 
He gently rubbed her back and looked at Velvette. Her eye caught his and she nodded, her fingers flying across the keyboard. He felt sick to his stomach as he held his child. He cursed himself again for not taking family history into account back when he first noticed the change in her. 
He knew depression ran in their family- hell, her mother had fought it all through her pregnancy on Earth before ultimately dying in childbirth. And Valentino wasn’t exactly free from the disease himself. And at the end of the day, depression was a disease. No different than a broken ankle or sprained wrist, and needed to be treated as such. There was no shame in it. There was no shame in any mental illness. He took a deep breath as he prepared to say his next words. 
“No one is going to lock you up, but this is what’s going to happen next,” he said softly. “Now that Daddy has stopped the bleeding, we’re going to go downstairs. All four of us. A doctor will be waiting there to talk to you. That’s all they’re going to do, talk. Do you understand?”
“I don’t need to talk to someone,” she began to sob again. “I don’t, I…It was an accident. Please don’t send me away.” 
The words Valentino wanted to speak caught in the back of his throat. Every part of him wanted to wrap up his daughter and hold onto her tight, to protect her from everything that caused her this pain. He looked to Vox and Vox leaned over. 
“We know sweetie, and we believe you,” he said soothingly. “We won’t let anyone take you away from us, okay? But you don’t have to suffer all this pain. The doctor will help with that, we promise. But this isn’t a negotiation.” 
“And even if the doctor does say you need to be hospitalized, it isn’t the worst thing in the world. It isn’t as scary as it sounds, I promise. I’ve been there,” Velvette added quietly. “Val, she’s waiting. Downstairs. Whenever we’re ready.”
“Val? I can carry her,” Vox said quietly as he knelt down next to them. “If you want.” 
“No, I got her,” Valentino replied as he swept her up in his arms. To his immense relief, she didn’t fight. “It gets better, mi amore,” he said softly as the four of them made their way to the elevator. “I promise. And you are never, ever going to fight this alone again. We love you. I love you.” He swallowed. “Even if you’re scared, know that I love you. And that this life doesn’t have to be riddled with overwhelming sadness and pain. I promise. I promise you it gets better.”
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saintescuderia · 7 months ago
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pancakes (pt. 6)
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AKA - the story of how the naive australian rookie befriended the gym junkie F1 hospitality worker with the shoe collection - and inadvertently broke the grid's most treasured and unspoken rule: you don't go for y/n.
series masterlist here :) // the pancakes recipe here :)
antinal reference ;)
A/N: to make up for being MIA (and that this sunday might be another miss) here's a double update. enjoy.
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P6 - pre-workout for jet-lag
You still found it odd to call Australia home.
You had mixed feelings about the country stamped across the front page of your passport. Your auntie had been the one to organise the papers so that Australian would be your identification. Never mind the hospital bed in Monaco that you were birthed. Or that you were first words were in Arabic. 
Still, your travelling auntie’s own experiences meant that when you came into her care, she would raise you Australian. Never mind any of the other stuff. 
So, when you walked into the house in Melbourne, you were met with an Egyptian lady playing French music, dressed in a Korean football jersey, cooking Greek food. Such was the life of a nomadic English teacher that was your aunt Nadia. Dia for short.
“Ah, it's you." She sat, spying you hauling the suitcase through the door. She looked at the clock by the fridge and then frowned. "You weren't supposed to land yet."
"I landed an hour ago." You said. She looked at the clock again and took it off the fridge. She banged it with one hand and then shook her head, muttering under breath.
"I'm sorry. Did you take an Uber?"
"No. Oscar gave me a lift." Well, technically his father had driven the car.
Oscar’s parents were apparently super excited to meet you and gushed all through the way about how glad they were that their son had you to help him through F1. They had even insisted on dinner but Oscar knew you had stayed up - you had made him do the same thing as you - and thankfully postponed it for a breakfast tomorrow after you both got to finally got to sleep. 
Upon leaving Jeddah, you had looked at the flight times and decided to overdose the 400mg of pre-workout and strategically placeyour workout just before leaving the hotel so that you and Oscar could both avoid the jet-lag many other F1 personnel were struggling with.
So far, it was on track to working. You just needed to push through a few more hours. To do so, Oscar was going to watch the footy. You were going to watch football.
“Ah, this young Oscar." Your aunt was nodding. "I like him. He has a trusting face.” She laughed at you, doing nothing to help but continue to watch you clamber into the well-loved and mis-matched dining furniture in her kitchen. “You hungry?”
“Tired.” You said, checking the time. It was 5pm but you were ready to knock out. Just a few more hours. You willed yourself to push through and avoid the jet-lag.
“Did you eat?”
You hadn’t. You never ate airplane food. 
The silence was answer enough as your auntie plated up some gyros for you. The smells of the seasoned meat filled your nose and your stomach rumbled at the site of it. You picked up your fork, ignoring the bread for the sake of your cut but helping yourself to tzatziki. 
"What's with the Korean jersey." You couldn't help but ask. You watched your auntie's back with CHO GUE-SUNG.
"Oh, he's such a handsome man. So polite too. I met him when I was teaching abroad in Seoul."
You opened your mouth but closed it. Your auntie lived a very unbelievable life at the best of times.
"He was nice. Nice face. Good hair. You should date him." Dia said as if she was commenting about the weather and you rolled your eyes, chewing through the food. She gave you a look. "Better a footballer than a driver."
You gave her a look. She never did like Danny. Much less you two together.
"Speaking of footballers, your uncle called. Went on and on in Italian about how your talents are wasted with cars and you should come to a real sport."
You snorted hearing this. Your uncle's work in football (not soccer, football) and your line of expertise had some people baffled that you hadn't joined him. Only the select few who knew your mother understood just why that was.
Still, every month your uncle sighed at the wasted talent! that you, a world class performance trainer! was stuck making coffee! for some fancy drivers!
Save that your uncle would add in a few choice Italian expletives in the mix.
"So, the usual?" You concluded.
"The usual." Dia nodded. She came to sit down in front of you. Pulling out her phone, she began showing you pictures of her recent teaching stint in South Korea. Your aunt had been there for about six months, working at an international school. And befriending Korean football players apparently.
“I thought you were teaching in Paris.” You said between mouthfuls of seasoned meat. 
“That was before.” Dia waved a dismissive hand. She dropped her phone and then stood up to pull out two wine glasses. Your aunt gave you a look and you shook your head. She put one back with a roll of her eye. “Wine is good for you.”
“I’m already taking resveratrol.” You said. “And I’m on a cut.”
“That’s why no bread.” Dialooked down at the plate full of untouched pita bread. She was well aware of your health habits. “Actually, I went to Egypt recently! Ah!” She went to the cupboard above the microwave and pulled out a shoebox full of small boxes. You knew immediately what it was. Bringing the shoebox to the table, Dia began pulling out various medicines she had brought from Egypt. 
“You will need this for your travels.”
“I have all of this.”
“Do you have Antinal?”
“Yes.”
“Take some extra." Dia still pushed it to you. "Give it to Charles.”
“I don’t speak to Charles.” You said.
Your aunt huffed and looked up at the ceiling, calling to God. “Ya rab. This fight with Charles needs to stop. Pascale and I are sick of it.” You didn’t comment any further on it. It was, admittedly, quite hard when there were so many other people involved. Pascale and Nadia were best friends. It was how you and Charles had grown up so close. The fact that you were family friends made it hard since Charles had pretty much cut you off. Granted, he was polite and you knew he still greeted your aunt Dia with a kiss on each cheek every time she’d visited Monaco. But still. 
“I will give them to Charles.” She said, taking a box back.
“You do that.” You said as she still pushed one boxes of the yellow medicine in front of you. “Dia, I already have this.”
“For Oscar. Yallah.”
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“Anti-diarrhoea pills?"
"Oi, mate. You better be grateful. That shit's a miracle." You said, dropping the yellow box in Oscar's hands as you both walked down the Paddock. You had checked your phone this morning to the beautiful news that you would be working for McLaren today. You texted Oscar the news and the next day he had your coffee order ready in the cupholder of the car he picked up you up in. 
It didn't feel odd. It should've, but it didn't. Maybe it was because you and Oscar had already spent the most of the morning together. You had breakfast with his parents - his dad taking a moment to quietly pull you aside to say thank you for supporting Oscar - and then hit a gym sesh.
In fact, you almost forgot that you and Oscar was supposed to be working in different domains until you both had to get dressed and found him waiting for you outside the Paddock dressed in shorts, a McLaren t-shirt and accompanying brand cap.
It made you look down at your black Hospitality wear and wonder just how things would go if you were wearing the same clothes as him.
Well, for one thing, you would have to wear those ugly ass shoes. You looked down at your feet clad in some Nike Cortez and tried to take that as consolation. You weren't dressed in team uniform but at least that meant you had your shoes.
Still, the oddity of seeing a driver openly interact with the Hospitality staff turned some head as you walked down the Paddock together. You were half tempted to tell Oscar to go ahead but it didn't make sense. You were both going to the same place - the McLaren motorhome.
Oscar, however, was barely paying attention to any of this. No, his attention was still stuck on the medicine you had given him.
"Why do I need," He paused and flipped the box over to read the label that was in English, "Antinal?"
"Because you're travelling around the world more now that you're in F1 and have an additional ten or so race weekends added to your calendar." You explained as Oscar read what minimal English was on the medicine box "And so you're gonna be trying a lot more foreign food. Gotta be prepared, man." You patted him on the shoulders as a form of consolation. Oscar just laughed. 
"I must say, when you texted me that you had got me something, I didn't think it would be this."
"Technically my auntie did." You said before explaining how you would probably needed to purchase another 23kg suitcase from all the things your aunty was adamant you have with you for the rest of the season. Oscar was laughing at the five packets of sunflower seeds your aunt thought was an essential when you clocked it. 
Or, better yet, them. Charles and Carlos.
Both staring at you. And Oscar. 
You felt a jolt rush through you realised. Oscar's latest girlfriend update went to background noise as you took in the two Ferrari drivers stood there.
Carlos was appraising, his head slightly tilted as he clearly was observing the two of you. You could only imagine what he noted.
You. Oscar. Laughter. Gift exchanged. Mention of relatives and close family.
Still, the kind Spaniard's eyes were a lot easy to take in than Charles. 
Charles who was clearly fuming. 
Or, clearly to you. You knew his angry tells. Right fist clenches then unfurls. Left hand runs through hair. Lips are pursed. And then he walks off. 
You watched as Charles said something to Carlos and then turned around to stalk off. You watched his retreating form with forlorn eyes and before you caught Carlos looking at you. The furrow between your brows where you had probably stared longingly after the best friend who left you in the dust immediately fell when you looked at Carlos. 
That was the first time that Charles was actually acknowledging your existence in how long.
You drew your eyes back to Carlos who was still looking at you. You smiled you found yourself even lifting up a hand to wave. You saw his eyebrows raise slightly and his lips lift into a smile. He waved back. Then someone called his name and you saw his cousin and manager appear from the Ferrari motorhome. You turned back to look at Oscar who was still talking, unaware of anything that happened in the past minute.
"... anyway Lily wants to meet you and - "
"Have you copped any shit?" You interrupted Oscar and turned to him. You had both neared the McLaren Motorhome and knew this would be where you both parted ways. 
"Copped shit from who?"
"Other drivers." You specified.
"I mean I haven't really had a chance to speak with them." Oscar said, pursing his lips as if he thought about it. "The Williams guys are nice. Alex is funny."
"Alex is funny." You agreed. You did like Alex. He had a good heart. You would forever be salty at what Red Bull did to him. 
"Lewis said hello, which was nice. Fernando reminded me his career is older than me." You couldn't help but snort at that. Oh, Nando.
"And Lando is... well, Lando." You perfectly understood just what Oscar meant by that. His words, however, also confirmed what you had suspected. None of the 'core' drivers that surrounded Ferrari or Red Bull's circles had come near him. You knew that many of the guys had gone out a few times to celebrate the start of the season and the fact that Oscar had very clearly not been invited was, well, getting to you.
Especially since you were 99.9% sure you were the reason why. 
You stared at the young Australian boy in front of you and felt two things wash over you. 
The first was sadness.
A lame word but there was no other way to describe it. Infuriated, annoyed, hurt - sure. But you were also just sad. Sad that this was your life and that anyone close to you still managed to get tainted by the things you were forced to lug around yourself. 
The second was fondness.
The boy was young and innocent but carried himself with wisdom and dignity beyond his mere 20 years. And his dry ass sarcasm was a special type of humour you missed having around you. He was caring, loyal and an overall good sport. Having Oscar around made you realise how long it has been since you've laughed. He drove you the airport, bought you food and stayed up to watch old FRIENDS reruns after finding out Daniel Ricciardo had cornered you in the gym. 
"Your love language is quality time." Was his reasoning when he had arrived at your hotel room. And so he ordered some KFC and got comfortable in your hotel room to watch Chandler and Joey forget Ross' baby on a bus. You knew Oscar didn't like sit-coms -- it was a recurring argument -- but he watched five episodes that night after you had texted him feeling panicked and needing help when Daniel arrived drunk at the gym.
In short, in that moment, you were suddenly hyperaware of how much you really, really, really fucking loved Oscar Piastri. 
So maybe that's why you just came out with it. 
"Jos Verstappen has a restraining order against me." 
Oscar blinked. Once. Twice. Clearly he wasn't expecting you to say that. You weren't even expecting you to really say it. 
"Come again?"
"Well his wife does." You corrected. "Because the courts wouldn't accept a man of his size him to need protection from little old me." You rubbed your arm, feeling the full vulnerability of what you were doing. You thought of your next words carefully, making sure to not step over the NDA you had signed. "I used to train Max when he was at Torro Rosso and then at Red Bull. I always saw bruises on his arms. One day I..." you huffed, hating that you legally couldn't say what had actually happened. "Well, I ended up beating Jos Verstappen half to death."
Oscar was silent. His face was void of much reaction. He wasn't even looking you in the face but staring at the ground in his pensive state. You were aware that you both had stopped walking and were stood to the side. 
"Is that why you don't officially work as a trainer and had to be all pedantic with training me?" All you could do was nod to his question. Oscar shook his head. "I mean, I've heard the stories about Max and his dad but..." 
Now it was your turn to blink. Once. Twice. You frowned and Oscar finally met your eyes and you were stunned to see the easy going grin on his face once more. It hadn't disappeared. "I can only guess you had to sign an NDA and this isn't the full story. And even if it is, well, it's enough to know you were protecting someone from a -- well, an abuser." 
"I... Yeah. Thanks." You weren't sure what you were thanking him for. For believing you? For not treating you differently? For taking your side when everyone in Formula 1 had dropped you and treated you like a leper?
"Is that why you and Ricciardo fell through?" Oscar asked. It wasn't nosy. You had explained enough to him. It was enough he knew what happened. 
"No Danny, he, uh-." You hated how small your voice sounded. Or that you immediately fell back to his nickname. "He cheated."  
Oscar was silent, waiting for you to continue. And so you did so. You told him everything. From Daniel to Charles to the moment you punched Jos Verstappen in the face.
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Carlos Sainz was ready to punch someone in the face.
He sat there at the table, fist curled tight as he tried to calm down from all that he was hearing. It seems like his name would only be an added tag to an otherwise Charles Leclerc fest of a season. Carlos knew, sure, that coming into a Ferrari where his teammate was known as Il Predestinato would mean that he needed to prove himself, put himself in the spotlight and make the Tifosi give him a name like that.
However, as the current race strategy meeting was showing, it seemed like no one in Ferrari was going to give Carlos the chance.
"Now, boys, I have something to discuss with you two." Fred said as people were starting to leave and the meeting seemingly coming to an end. Carlos wanted nothing more than to get up and storm off but he reigned it and listened to the change in Fred's tone.
"What's up?" Charles asked, sitting up.
"Quietly, there was a team principal meeting with Domenicali." Fred said, and this time Carlos sat up also. His anger was momentarily forgotten as his interest piqued. "McLaren have unofficially started working with a girl to train their rookie." Charles was playing with his APM Monaco bracelets, somewhat paying attention. Carlos watched him. There was one particular bracelet he always fiddled with, a small gold chain tucked amidst all the other extravagant pieces.
"She's a Hospitality worker."
Carlos saw how Charles froze. His teammate looked up. Carlos saw the horrified look on his face.
"Quoi?" The French slip was only further proof of something. Carlos's mind raced to make the connection.
The lighbulb went off just before Fred said it.
"She was your friend, non?" Fred said. "Worked with Max Verstappen in Torro Rosso." His eyes flickering over to Carlos. They had been teammates back then.
Charles's years and years of media training went out the window as he struggled to make sense of what he was hearing. Carlos, however, was suddenly thrown back a few years and thinking about just who had caused this whole shitstorm.
You.
Carlos said your name, feeling something swell up in him by saying your name in front of Charles who was your former best friend. Maybe it was ego from the recent meeting, but Carlo wanted to drive the knife in a little deeper.
"She's a very good trainer. I watched her sessions with Verstappen." And that wasn't on showing up Charles; it was the truth. Max's dominance needed to be at least somewhat accredited to you.
"Turns out she is not allowed to work for new teams." Fred spoke. "That means for McLaren to hire her goes against some contract Formula 1 put in place after an incident with Verstappen."
There was a pause. Carlos waited for Charles to say something - to say it. He didn't. So Carlos did.
"She was defending Max." Carlos said, defending you when he thought the silent Monacoan beside him would've. Didn't you two grow up together?
The Verstappen Incident, Carlos was well aware of. However, whatever happened between you and Charles... well, Carlos was out of the loop.
"It doesn't matter." Fred waved. "I'm not here to speak of the drama. But I did have a look. Mattia never told me but she has ties with Ferrari from before - "
"But she's a Hospitality worker!" Charles finally spoke up. "Mattia he-- I spoke to him about her."
"You did?" Fred took that piece in. Carlos wanted to scoff. Clearly Mattia hadn't mentioned that in the hand over notes. "What did Mattia say?" Fred asked.
"Peut-être on peut parler juste nous deux." Charles said, the switch the French reigniting Carlos' anger once more. He forced himself to breathe steadily while Fred nodded. Both men had often tried to keep to English in front of him for the sake of manners and being polite, as opposed to using their mother tongue and making Carlos feel, well, like he felt now. Excluded. Enraged.
Still, Carlos' French skills were okay enough for understand what Charles had said. He stood up and, in French, said. "I'll leave you two." Without looking back, he walked out the motorhome trying to steel himself.
He really wanted to punch something.
Walking a little ways down the Paddock, he took deep breaths and shot a flurry of texts to his dad. He needed his advice on what to do given the way the meeting had gone. It was then that a girl on rollerblades holding the Australian flag zoomed past him and Carlos looked up.
The entertainment at Albert Park never missed. Carlos smiled slightly. Australia was a fun circuit. Not his favourite track by any means but the actual circuit itself had a lot going on that he enjoyed. It was lively, music always pumping and the weather was nice.
Still, the sounds of laughter and the faint dance music that echoed through the Paddock weren't enough to lift his spirits.
And then he saw you.
You were walking with Lando's new teammate, the infamous Oscar something. He hadn't paid much attention to the newbie, hearing something vaguely about Alpine drama from Lando. It all had gone in one ear and out the other.
Now, Carlos saw you walking with him and suddenly he wished he knew more about the kid. Why him? Why were you friends with him? Since when did you have friends? And why risk it all just to train him?
Carlos had always been perfectly polite, nice. Why didn't you laugh with him? Why didn't you reach into your bag to pull out a small box and hand to him as you explained him whatever gift you had brought him? What made this Oscar kid so lucky?
Maybe it was just the Australians seeking out one another? Everyone on the Grid knew you had dated Ricciardo. That had been a painful experience. It was one thing to have pined after you, as Max his teammate's trainer. It was another to see you get swept off your feet by the senior Red Bull driver that everyone adored. Carlos' days at Red Bull sucked since all he did was think about you - and you barely paid him any attention.
Sure, he was now no longer Ricciardo's junior but it still got to him. Daniel Ricciardo had waltzed in and you had gone wide-eyed before Carlos could've even tried.
Because he would've. He really would've. Even before his dad told him who your uncle was. Even before he tried your cooking, your coffee. Even before he knew your name. A young Carlos Sainz had seen a pretty girl walking around in the same Real Madrid kit that he owned at home and immediately wanted to go up to her, to ask her name, to ask her out.
Carlos felt the door behind him open and out came Charles. He looked completely at ease despite what had occurred before. He patted Carlos on the shoulder. And just as he did that, Carlos' phone beeped. His father.
Don't get mad. Just get even on the track.
Carlos pocketed his phone but felt something ignite inside him. He would do that. It wasn't Charles' fault for Ferrari's favouritism. Carlos had to admit the Monégasque was a genuinely nice guy.
"You alright, mate?" Charles asked. "I'm really sorry about before."
"I'm alright. Excited for the race." Carlos said, changing the subject and not mentioning it at all. If anything, he would stay out if it all and just focus on the race, on proving everyone wrong. He take his father's advice and make his own mark in this team.
"Ah, Australia is always special." Charles said.
Despite what his father had said, anger came back within Carlos. It was the same anger he felt towards that Australian kid. And Daniel Ricciardo. And, to an extent, Max.
Carlos was jealous. Not for Charles' favouritism from Ferrari, but the favouritism from you. Charles had you and he'd thrown you out for whatever reason.
Carlos' eyes came back to you and suddenly he couldn't help himself. Sure, he could stay out of all the Ferrari drama but this was you. He couldn't stay out of it when you were right there, walking beside the new kid who didn't know that Charles had essentially banned every driver from interacting with you.
"Yeah?" Carlos spoke before he even realised. "What's so special about Australia?"
The answer was obvious: you.
You were what had been so special. Carlos' days at Torro Rosso meant that he knew about how you felt towards Albert Park, that it was almost like your home race.
For one, you didn't stay at the Crown Casino hotel like the rest of them. No, instead you stayed at your auntie's place by the beach. Carlos knew that from the time he had to drive a passed out Max Verstappen to said home back in 2017.
Charles' smile dropped slightly. Then he brought it back up. "Ah, you know. The sun, the people. There is a special energy here that - "
He stopped talking.
Carlos knew that his teammate had finally spotted you also. Turning his head to look over at Charles, Carlos took in the look of utter rage on his teammate's face.
And then, you looked up. You noticed him. Them. You met his eyes and then you looked at Charles. The McLaren driver was still talking beside you, oblivious to how you had clearly stopped listening to him. Charles took a deep breath.
He stormed off.
Carlos couldn't help but roll his eyes. He didn't know the truth, but Carlos had heard the many rumours as to why Charles had cut you off. He thought they were all rubbish.
Looking back at you, Carlos met your eyes once more and he thought about his options.
He knew that you were in part responsible for training one of the best drivers on the grid. He also knew that it would take a bit of a miracle to help him outperform Charles Leclerc and show Ferrari what was what.
But hey, if this Oscar kid was going to go against the grid's treasured and unspoken rule, why couldn't he?
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You really jinxed yourself.
At first, the Australian Grand Prix was off to a great start. Sleeping at home meant that you had more comfortable waking in a bed that was familiar - and not stuck in some isolating three star hotel room that made you question the hotel rating system.
Three stars with suspicious smells coming from the closet? No, thank you.
Instead, you got to wake up to your auntie humming as she prepared her own version of pancakes. It had been a long time since anyone had made pancakes for you. And even though you had breakfast plans with Oscar and his family, you still ate some of her and kissed her goodbye as you went to the circuit.
By car. You drove yourself. In your beloved Supra, the one that had essentially taught you everything you knew about cars (that and Top Gear) were finally united.
And that in itself was a beautiful fucking thing.
There were a small handful of circuits in where you had a car in the country and could actually drive yourself. Australia was one of them. Japan was another. Monaco was the other.
Then again, Monaco was far too crazy to be driving during a race weekend anyway. Still, it was nice to be able to play some calming lo-fi beats as you drove the familiar Lakeside Drive that led up to the street circuit that was built around the lake. Your lake.
You had found yourself a good parking spot and the cafe vendor recognised you and gave you a free latte. Some marshalls walking by were joking about something nonsensical but the banter and accent made you feel warm inside. No matter the complicated feelings that being Australian brought up, you still enjoyed the laid-back attitudes that came with the softened ds and ts.
You had a good gym session, showing progress with your training. You dropped another kilogram off with the cut working well and then you were ready to go to the safe confined of the McLaren motorhome.
And then you saw the message from your co-worker.
Sorry bro. There's been a change in the roster because Mack called in sick. You're going to be covering him at Ferrari for the rest of the race weekend.
You really had jinxed yourself.
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luvyeni · 1 year ago
Text
❛LOVE N’ DEVOTION❜ ( y. jeongin )
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p. yandere!jeongin x yandere!reader w. 1.3k+
warnings? dark fic, toxic relationship, minor characters death, mentions of blood, oral sex ( m. receiving ), shower sex, rough sex, unprotected sex,
— 𖦹 ( both of you are willing to do crazy things to show your devotion for each other ) !
freaktober masterlist
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you waited for the girl to walk away , excusing yourself , making your way over to the bar. “i'll have another margarita.” you asked the bar tender. “that will be 7.50.” he said. “i'll pay for it.” the boy handed over his card. “coming right up.”
you turned to boy leaning down , to where he could only hear. “she’ll die by the end of the night if she touches you again.” you whispered in jeongin's ear , anger and jealousy laced in your voice making the boy smirked. “really?” he loved seeing you like this , seeing how far he get you.
“and what about him.” He pointed to the guy across the bar who waiting for your return. “can i kill your date , if you kill mine.” the girl came back to the bar , just as the bartender , returned back with your drink. “your drink ma'am.” you thanked him , eyeing the boy as you walked away , still in earshot.
“innie.” you stopped dead in your tracks , jeongin taking notice of this. “innie who was that girl? do you know her?” the boy knew he should’ve chosen his next words wisely , but he couldn’t help himself. “no , just some girl.”
you bitterly made your way back to your table , ready for this date to be over.
jeongin watched you flirt extra hard with the guy , with a murderous glint in his eyes , how fucking dare that guy touch you like that , he’ll cut off every single one of his fingers for touching what’s his.
both of you knew you’d be here with other people , it’s the same routine – you break up , you find a random person to go on a date , knowing the other will show up , and at the end of the night both of you end up back at his house , covered in blood.
“jesus princess , all this blood.” he chuckled opening the door for you. “had the bitch not called you innie i may have let her live.” You took your heels off throwing them to the side. “keep it up and the cops will be sure to find you.” He closed the door.
“where is he?” he pointed to his garage. “i killed him already , he didn’t put up much of a fight.” you shrugged , “too bad he was cute.” he scoffed , his bloody hand wrapping around your throat , slamming you against the wall.
“princess you may have a few loose screws in your head , but you aren’t stupid , say some stupid shit like that again and i'll cut your tongue out.” he growled , squeezing. “you understand.” You nodded , and he let you go , you coughed. “now be a good girl and get on your knees.”
you obeyed , looking up at him through your lashes. “you’re hard even after killing someone.” You undid his jeans , letting them pool at his ankles , pulling at his boxer , his cock springing out , hitting his stomach. “says the slut covered in blood about to suck my cock.”
you took him into your mouth , but he quickly grabbed your hair. “if you bite me , i'll kill you.” he slowly moved your head , letting go while you kept going , bobbing your head up and down. “f-fuck that’s it suck my cock.” he groaned.
“if you don’t speed up , im gonna fuck your throat.” he grunted , but you ignored his request. “you’re really being a brat tonight.” he yanked on your hair , keeping it still as he thrusted into your mouth. “is it that girl -fuck- is it what she said?” he didn’t even let you answer before he , came with a grunt. “ngh , fuck!”
he let you go , spit and his seed dripping down your chin. “don’t mention that bitch.” you spat bitterly. “even her blood is making me angry.” he smirked , you truly were just as crazy as he was.
you weren’t always like this , you were once normal – that was until jeongin , he did this to you. when you first started dating , he was nice , but then as time went off , he began to slowly remove people out of your life , gaslighting you into thinking they were bad for you , and that you only had him.
you didn’t know how dangerous he was until one night he came home covered in the blood of some random guy he thought was looking at you. that’s when you should’ve left , called the cops , but you didn’t and everything just went to hell.
he'd find ways to break you , little by little , until those no longer worked , then he up the ante. while you continued to stay at his house , no one to go to , only having him , and he knew that – that’s when the girls came in.
he’d bring home random girls , not to sleep with them , but to put fear into your heart , that he could find someone better , when he knew he couldn’t , he was addicted to you , he just wanted to see what you’d do.
eventually , that fear boiled over and turned to anger , and that’s when you killed for the first time , and jeongin knew he had you forever , you were tied to him , you loved him and was devoted to him so much , that you’d kill just to be with him.
“you get so angry princess.” he pressed your naked wet body against the shower door , the blood mixed from your bodies making it’s way down the drain. “it’s so sexy.”
he held the flesh of your cheeks , spreading them , lining his cock with your hole. “fuck such a messy pussy , i can just-" you moaned as he slammed into you. “slide right in.”
he pulled out , pushing himself back into you. “fu-fuck jeongin!” you screamed as he fucked you , you gripped on to the side. “harder.” he slapped your ass. “you truly are my little pain slut.” he reached around squeezing you boobs , rutting his hips into you. “my crazy little pain slut.”
He pulled out of your hole , flipping you around , holding you up against the wall , wrapping your legs around his waist , filling you back up with his cock. “innie!” your nails raked down his arm , scratching his back.
“fuck.” he hissed , his hand once again coming up to your neck , his thrust hitting deeper. “my crazy girl , you’d kill for me wouldn’t you.” he squeezed. “y-you know i would.” you managed to get out. “say it then." he said. “say you’d kill for me.”
“fu-fuck innie , im gonna cum!” you screamed. “hold it , you’re not cumming until you say it.” You whined. “sh-shit , i will kill for you innie.” you cried tears spilling down your face. “good girl , you can cum.” you gripped his shoulders leaving more marks as you came.
he didn’t stop once you came , his thrust became more erratic , he was close to cumming himself. “you don't have to worry princess, im -fuck- im all yours , how many people do I have to kill to prove it to you.” he groaned. “i'll do it , i'll kill anyone I have to.” he felt the band snap in his stomach , cumming.
he let you down , holding you up due to your jelly legs. he helped you wash the rest of the blood off your bodies , turning the shower off. he carried your body to the bed , both of you not bothering to put on clothes.
“you have to get rid of his body.” you said. “i will later.” he wanted to wait for you to go to sleep. “you shouldn’t bring them back here anymore , im tired of cleaning up blood.” you whined. “i'll do it this time crazy girl.” you pouted. “don’t call me crazy , you’re just as crazy.” he chuckled.
“whatever you say darling.”
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©LUVYENI
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bubbles-for-all-of-us · 5 months ago
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could you write a little something about Rowan x reader where reader is Lorcan’s little sister
It’s been a hot minute since we stepped into tog’s universe…
Part II
The light we cannot see
You were the only source of light in life that Lorcan had. He had given up on life, on the right thing, on the fact that there could be good things gracing this land. But every time the last drop of light was threatened to be snuffed out, you brought it back. You held onto it with both hands. Your love was what kept him fighting. What kept him getting out of bed. His little dark-haired sister. A promise of danger with the kindness of heart.
“Anyone’s up for seconds?”, your voice fills the side dining room, pot slung on your hip as you strolled in. Maeve as much as she used them wasn’t the dine-with-me type so even her closest ate away from her chambers. “When they are coming from your hands, always”, Fenrys chirped, “I would eat poison from you”, he throws you a wink as you scoop another portion of stew into his bowl while rolling your eyes. “Careful, dreams come true”, Lorcan grunted, eyes fixed on the white wolf. Whose purpose in life seemed to be pissing Lorcan off. “I can shove it down your throat”, the table grew still, the threats didn’t surprise anyone by now but Lorcan’s sharp tone still made everyone halt. “Just joking, man. Y/n tell him that I’ve been behaving”, Fenrys pleaded making you chuckle, “I don’t know, have you?” The table echoed with laughter. “Don’t push me into the flames, love”, the white wolf clenched at his heart before turning his attention back to his food. But it was your hand that Lorcan’s eyes fell on. How it lingered on Rowan’s shoulders as you walked past him. How Rowan looked up. A strange sort of longing burning in his gaze. Lorcan lowered his spoon. Assessing eyes drinking you both in. And here it was the quickly shared looks, the slight nods. It couldn’t possibly be…
The rules applied to everyone. No one could come close to you. He wouldn’t allow it. They were all murderers. All were chained to a sadist who was willing and ready to do anything to break them. You were already hung up in front of him. You were already in danger because you shared blood with him and Lorcan hated himself for it. But to add another target on your back. To chain you to another person. To give her a reason to flung you around like a makeshift weapon. No, he wasn’t gonna allow it.
“You know you might just stare straight through the door if you keep glaring at it so hard”, Gabriel’s voice filled Lorcan’s ears as he blinked. He hadn’t even realized that he had zoned out. That you had left the room. “Have you…”, he cuts himself off, debating slightly as if he could voice his inner monologue, “Have you seen anything suspicious lately?” The older male shoots the darkness wielder a look. “As in threats in the city? No, it’s been calm down there”, Gavriel dabs at his lips with a napkin. Lorcan shakes his head, “Here, in the house. Have you noticed things… shifting”. “Lorcan be straight with it”, Gavriel states firmly, “You train Y/n, have you noticed anything strange”, he’s not sure why he stirs the conversation there but that’s where his mind takes him, and now that he’s grasping at nothing, he can use any detail.
“I wouldn’t be able to tell you”, the lion shrugs, making Lorcan shoot him a look of his own. “Maeve, shifting my guard times, Rowan is training with Y/n now. From what I’ve heard it’s going great”, he says it so casually as if he doesn’t seem to grasp the importance of the information he just shared. Not to mention that with everyone still being mid-meal Rowan gets up, waffling something about refilling the wine jugs. “I bet it is”, Lorcan watches him leave, “I bet it’s going wonderfully”, clamping his jaw he manages to take five breaths before he’s pushing his chair back.
A big part of him is hoping he would see just that. Just Rowan filling up the jugs. With you far away from him. He thinks about striding in. Making a big scene. But he halts, turning to the side pantry instead. Cracking the door ajar ever so slightly. “I can’t stay for long, too many men in the main hall”, Rowan mutters, brushing a strand of your black hair away and off your shoulders. “I was promised a night together”, you muse crossing your arms over your chest. “And I will keep my promise. Have I given you reason to doubt my promises before”, Rowan steps forward, a smile on his face. Your hands snake around his neck as you pull him in closer. “Maybe I need a reminder”, you hum, the mischievous eyes gleaming. “Is that so?”, Rowan tries to hide his smirk as he leans closer, “Let me remind you then”.
But his lips never meet yours and when you open your eyes it’s to him being pushed to the other side of the kitchen. “Lorcan”, you rasp out, moving to get closer to your older brother. Who had smashed a jug on his way, its shard now pressing against Rowan’s throat. “You lying filthy bastard”, he grits through his teeth, “The silent pig does dig the sweetest of crops, doesn’t it”. But Rowan’s gaze doesn’t falter. “Lor, I can explain”, you tug at his arm, “This doesn’t have to be this way”, you plead.
“What happened to us not having secrets, hmm?”, his angry gaze crashes into you. “I was gonna tell you”, you whine, “I was, I just didn’t want…”, “When”, he cuts you off, “Tell me when? when he screwed you pregnant and left you by some in to venture for yourself?”, his words make you stagger back. You can see the regret painting his features. But it was too late the words had met their mark. “Yn”, Lorcan breathes out, pushing off Rowan as he turns to you. You shake him off, moving across the kitchen. “I didn’t…”, “Save it. I heard you loud and clear”, you bite back, “I’m honored that you think so highly of your family”, you pull your apron off, throwing it on the table before yanking the patio door open. “Nice one”, Rowan chuckles bitterly from behind him, “You know, for someone who swore to protect her, you’re doing mighty shit work”. The males come face to face. And for the first time in a while, Lorcan realizes that maybe he doesn’t know the soldier fighting alongside him. “I should crush you beneath my feet”, Lorcan growls. “By all means”, Rowan is quick to stand even taller, “Just then you might find yourself utterly lonely in this bleak world”. His words jab Lorcan harder than any blade could. “Now if you excuse me, I have a crying partner to console, her brother is a jackass”, and with that he’s pushing past Lorcan, hitting his shoulder as he moves forward. Leaving Lorcan to stand on his own.
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zermbie-dergon · 1 year ago
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Little things I learned about the members of Constellation:
- Andreja feels like an outcast to the rest of the group and doesn’t feel like she’s included in their group activities.
- On the flip side, Barrett will try to invite Andreja to join him and the others in said activities and she always declines (this includes things like movie night, dancing, cooking, listening to music, board games and having drinks together)
- The members all get together to have movie night and take turns picking out the movies
- Andreja tries so hard to make jokes with Barrett but he always knows what she’s gonna say. She gets discouraged but keeps trying
- Barrett and Vlad once spent 5k of Constellation’s credits to throw a party on The Eye
- Sarah is completely against Sam bringing Cora along with him. She suggests leaving Cora with Matteo to ensure her safety. Sam becomes irritated and defensive and says Cora goes with him.
- Sam and Barrett are sports bros and love watching games together. If one of them isn’t around to watch the game, the other will record it so they can watch it together later
- Sam has terrible spelling
- Barrett is actually his last name. His first name starts with A but (as far as I know) we don’t know what the A stands for
- Sarah seems to fill a kind of motherly role of the group, checking in with Barrett after being held hostage by pirates, keeping Sam on track, watching out for Cora, reassuring Andreja, etc
- Sam and Barrett seem to cause the most trouble or make the most mistakes in the group. Barrett will try to joke and laugh it off until Sarah threatens punishment. Sam however can get grumpy and irritated when “Sarah Perfect Morgan” calls him out on it.
- Andreja has some knowledge in cooking
- Barrett does as well and will cook large meals for the group
- Cora will occasionally take some of Barrett’s stuff, usually books, without asking leading to Barrett going to Sam to get them back
- Sam seems to get easily distracted while on missions. “Sam, did you check out that thing I asked you to?” “Well I was going to but then I got caught in a goose chase-” “So did you or not?” “I was going to but then there was this thing-” “Should I just assign someone else?” “Uh that would probably be best”
- Andreja really wants to teach Cora self defense and how to fight and use a weapon. Sam is uncomfortable with it and tries to brush Andreja off. She doesn’t get the hint though
- Sam keeps an open tab at the bookstore in Akila City for Cora. She's supposed to be cut off at 100 credits but tends to overspend
- The stress Sarah is under must be obvious to the other members as multiple members of Constellation will ask if she is doing ok
- Barrett tries to get Noel to join them in space but she declines and reveals how much she is overworking herself. She then admits that she had nothing but her smarts to get her ahead in life
- Sarah is Cora’s favorite member of Constellation. Sam is her second favorite
- Not knowing where Andreja is from and her backstory drives Matteo crazy. He will vent to Sam about it who tells him to let it go and everyone is allowed their secrets
- Aja recruited Barrett into Constellation
- Sarah and Vlad recruited Andreja into Constellation
- At one point in his life, some people called Sam “Sammy”, he now detests the name and “goes by just Sam now”
- While Barrett was grieving, Aja sat with him in his room. He doesn't remember what she said but her presence was comforting and that’s what he remembers most
- Despite not having many credits himself, Sam is willing to help out those in need whether it's loaning credits to Barrett, keeping an open book tab for Cora or donating to those in need.
- Sarah is not afraid to ask Walter for money. They have some banter back and forth but Walter always signs the check
- Nadia at SSNN tries to get Sam to dig up dirt on Jacob. Despite the estranged relationship with his dad, Sam refuses
- Barrett and Sam have both been to jail at least once
- Sam and Sarah have an ongoing debate over which is the superior beer. Sarah suggests they go bar hopping one day to test their theory.
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wanderingsoul6261 · 6 months ago
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A Happy Ending
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gif credit goes to supporter-of-my-fav-ships
james beaufort x reader (Requested by an anon)
synopsis: We all felt jipped by that ending. Admit it. This is a glimpse of the happy ending we wished that James and Ruby had gotten.
I hope I got these guys right, I'm trying.
warning: talk of suggestive activities, but nothing much, really.
-------
Many at Maxton Hall had wondered what exactly happened to James and Ruby after they had left. Ruby was keen on going to Oxford. James, however, was not. Maybe it had something to do with his father. Perhaps it had more to do with the fact that he wanted to be his own person. Of course, there was nothing wrong with that, and if anything, Ruby had preferred it. 
However, the true events of what happened were only known to a few people. The Beauforts and the Bells. Mortimer Beaufort had cut off all contact with his son after James abandoned them, hoping for a happier and more carefree life. Sure he still had the money that had technically still belonged to him, so no matter what, things would still be easy. Mr. Beaufort had attempted at even dictating Lydia’s ability to connect with her twin, but he was never able to stop her for long. The two siblings were always able to figure something out. Percy was also willing to take Lydia to “lunch” with her “friends”. 
Even if Lydia missed her brother heavily, she was happy for him. He had achieved the impossible and had escaped the life that two of them in the end, didn’t seem to have a care for. 
James and Ruby had both stayed temporarily with her parents, before they had found their own place. They both agree that something that looked nice, but wasn’t exactly over the top, would be good enough for them. The two of them didn’t have any need for a manor as large as the one that the Beauforts owned. 
And with what they had, James and Ruby were happy. 
—-
Ruby had just arrived home from a long day at Oxford. The workload was strenuous and had definitely kept her busy. James in the end had decided that he too would go back to school, but had vowed to stay as far from Oxford as he could. It reminded him too much of his father and expectations. He had a short day today, and had therefore beat Ruby home. 
Ruby set her stuff down by the front door, walking into the living room, where James had surprised her. He watched her with a large smile, splayed across the couch. The tv was on, likely to serve as some background noise for him, but now that Ruby was home, he’d be more likely to watch it with her. James never did care much for tv, although they didn’t have much of it when he still lived with his parents. 
“Hello and welcome home.” He jumped up from the couch to greet her. Ruby looked confused, turning her gaze from him, to the takeout on the coffee table, and the various candles lit around the room. She had actually appreciated the cozy ambience that it brought to the house. It had almost reminded her of home back with her parents and younger sister. 
“What is this?” Ruby asked. James looked around the room. 
“What? I can’t create a romantic setting for my girlfriend at home?” he asked. James paused slightly on the take out, then turned his head so that he could see her. “Do you not like it?” 
Ruby shook her head, took a few steps forward, and grabbed ahold of his hands. 
“No, of course I do. I absolutely love it. I just wasn’t expecting it, that’s all.” Ruby reasoned. The two of them went on plenty of dates when they had the time, even if they were often reserved for the weekend because of how busy they were with classes during the week. James had actually felt bad that their date nights had often frequented only the weekends, and thus therefore wanted to do something for her during the week, which is what sparked this very moment. The way that he had viewed it specifically, it was kind of an apology. Like, “sorry that we are so busy and can only really do anything on the weekends, I hope this makes up for it”, kind of thing.
“Well, whether you expected it or not, you deserve it.” James tugged her towards the couch and ultimately, where the take out was laid out in front them. Ruby took in the sight and smell of the food, a smile growing on her. She turned her head to James to thank him, only to find him already staring. 
“Thank you.” She spoke softly, a smile matching the one currently on James’ face. 
“The pleasure is all mine, love.” He leaned over and captured her lips into a quick kiss, smiling against her lips before pulling away. 
“But.” Ruby started. “I’d say that we both deserve this.” He flashed her a smile. “You know? We are a couple doing couple things.” 
“What happened to being ‘bffs’ ?” James teased her, resulting in her rolling her eyes. “Careful now, roll your eyes any further into the back of your head and they might stay there.” It was silent for seconds before James spoke again. “Although, if you want, I can definitely give you a reason to roll your eyes into the back of your head.” He whispered softly. It resulted in his receiving a smack to his shoulder and him laughing out loud as Ruby became a blushing mess. 
The two sat in silence and ate their food, often breaking said silence to ask how their day was, even if it always tended to be the same thing throughout the week. Attending classes, doing homework, turning in assignments, and so on. It was a never ending cycle throughout the semesters. 
“My parents did call me earlier though in between classes.” Ruby mentioned, before shoveling more food into her mouth. 
“Did they now?” James looked at Ruby, giving her a look of amusement as she hurried to chew her food so that she could respond. He let out a short laugh. “Slow down. I don’t need you choking and dying on me” 
She gave him an embarrassed smile after she finally finished chewing and swallowed. “Sorry. Anyways, they invited us to dinner next weekend. I told them I would talk to you and that we would see where we were with classes.” James nodded, agreeing. 
“That sounds like a good plan. Your sister won’t use me as another mannequin for her suit designs will she? I felt like I was a human pin cushion last time.” Ruby snorted, taking a sip of her beverage. 
“Hopefully not. But I can’t make any promises. You know her. She prefers the real thing over the fake thing, no matter how many times it’s suggested that she gets one. She’s stubborn.” 
“Oh. Much like you then.” James flashed her a cheeky smile, receiving another playful punch to his shoulder. He feigned being hurt, rubbing his shoulder. “Oh, you wound me so.” Ruby only rolled her eyes, a smile on her face. Then she blushed, remembering James’ earlier comment, and it had seemed that he had also remembered it, a smug smirk on his face. 
Once the two were finished eating their dinner, they had reclined back to watch a movie. James was laying on his back, his head tilted towards the tv screen, his eyes dancing across the screen as he watched it. Ruby laid on his chest, her ear pressed against his chest, hearing not only the movie that was playing, but also heard the prominent beating of James’ heart. Her fingers rubbed gentle circles on his clothes chest. One of his hands rested on the small of her back, while the other slowly and gently played with her hair.
 They had put on some romance comedy. Ruby was the only one paying much attention. James was also paying attention, but his mind was split between watching the movie and thinking about his life with Ruby. A small smile graced his lips. 
Sure, they’re relationship had gone through its ups and down, especially during their time at Maxton Hall, but they were at their happiest in this moment, that much was known, and he would do anything to keep things as they were. 
taglist: @honethatty12 @lifeonawhim @ashamedtobewhitemanswhore27 @maryvibess @wheredidmyeyesgo @imasimptoowth @avada-kedavra-bitch-187
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lordgrimoire · 2 years ago
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Inspired by @hypewinter s Fenton!Talia Au idea!
(The following scene is one that I just thought of for the Fenton!Talia au that was started recently where an Impromptu Fenton-Nightingale family reunion is where Talía introduces Bruce and the kids to her family)
Bruce was going to have a headache, he was going to have a massive, painful, excruciating headache and he would have to bear with it.
He sipped his coffee, the lid a normal black as he watched his children chatter with the extended Fenton-Nightingale family, Jason, Cass, and Damian’s own fluorescent green coffee cup lids blending in far more with the normal ones, proof of how much Bruce hadn’t known when he had tried to face Ra’s without Talia’s assistance, and what it could have cost him.
He watched Steph hesitantly nibble on a glowing cookie as she listened in nearly rapt attention as one of the Fenton-Nightingales, Ellie, recount early adventures she'd had, keeping Steph, Damian, and Cass engaged as the broad shouldered man who sat at the head of the table adjusted his seat lightly, turning to face him and Talia.
Daniel J. Fenton, formerly operating under the name "Phantom" as his alter ego/other self, was a broad man, though not as broad or tall as his own Father, Jack Fenton, who casually dwarfed both Himself and Clark, and given what Bruce had seen during the Fenton's intervention against the League, it was a common trait as well as invulnerabilities of some sort. Daniel Fenton's face had a few marks that bellied his age, laugh lines and creases in his brow, greying hair along the sides of his head, and a nose that appears to have been broken several times in his life in brutal fashion, but other than that and the Lichtenberg scarring that marred the right side of his body there were few obvious wounds save the newest, a small cut, just below his eye, the one and only strike Ra's had gotten in during their fight.
Bruce knew that Talia had been adopted, she'd spoken of it to him in the past, and especially gushed about her extended family, her Aunts, Cousins, Grandparents, Siblings, and her own Adoptive Parents, during slow nights where Bruce would check in on Harley and Ivy, usually inadvertently crashing a Siren's Night and having to sacrifice Robin [Jason, then Steph and Cassandra, then Tim and Damian] as well as Nightwing, Batwoman, and even the Superboys when they came over to join Tim and Damian's patrols, to secure his escape to his work, usually ending in having it all recounted to him by his children at the next debrief. The horror stories she'd told him of her birth family had been nightmarish, and when he had finally placed them as the League of Assassins he'd felt blind for a time after.
But now he sat before Talia's Father, who as it turned out, was a Half-Dead Half-Alive being who had overthrown a literal god to protect his hometown and then waged a years long guerilla war against a rogue element of the US Government, and then the League of Assassins. This was a man forged by the environment around him, by the tasks laid at his feet, and by those around him. In Bruce's honest opinion, Daniel was terrifying, not in an Uncanny Valley sense of the word, but in a logistical sense, for at this man's fingertips was not only the recourses of his family, which delved into many separate scientific, psychological, and occult fields, but also the knowledge that the dead have, and the fighters that are willing to spill forth at his call.
"So," The smiling man sitting at the head of the table began, his voice a quiet whisper that carried clear through the jumbled conversations as easy as water down a hillside, "You, are Bruce Wayne, It's a pleasure to meet one of Talia's significant others!" The smile turned absolutely cheery, and Talia rolled her eyes, as though expecting something.
Bruce gulped down his doubts and steeled himself.
Jason took a photo, planning on treasuring the photo he would show to Selina later.
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house-of-slayterr · 6 months ago
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A little obvious, but Villains I think would be into Knife/Sharps Play:
Let’s start this list of properly…
Mary:
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Mary loves surgical play, she’s the doctor and you’re her helpless little patient. Sometimes she uses laughing gas before you start, help you get the feeling that your life is truly in her hands. But she won’t hurt you too bad, she would never damage her perfect little doll. Just be prepared to have her name carved into the body part of your choosing.
Amanda Young:
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Amanda is another obvious choice. She loves to remind you of the power she holds over you. Remind you of who’s in charge. Her favourite thing to do is put you in escapable traps and give you little quizzes on your relationship as part of your test. Just simple flesh wounds are you payment if you ever get the answers wrong. She likes to save the deeper cuts for face to face time. She loves the feeling of you skin, under her blade, between her teeth. Anyway she can mark you, she’ll have the world knowing who you belong to.
Herbert West:
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Now Dr West, he hardly has time for sex. Most of his focus is on his experiments. But the way you can lure him out of that dingy basement is by becoming his latest experiment. He loves to dissect you, metaphorically and literally specking. He’d probably rip open your chest to see your heart if it didn’t mean loosing you. And reanimation was plan B for you, he preferred you still fully loving. But he loves to stick you with needles, sometimes to draw blood he saves in his little shrine to you, or to give you something that will help you more into the mood. All with your consent of course, but he loves it when you’re heads in the clouds. He loves to quiz you during it, and every answer you get wrong is another delicately carved Mark on your skin.
Anton Chigurh:
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Anton loves to watch you squirm. He thinks the sounds you make are delightful when you whimper away from the sharp blade. He’ll use diffent techniques. They do leave permanent marks, but nothing too difficult to hide. He likes to see how far you’ll let him go before he draws back. He loves the psychological aspect almost a bit more. Explaining to you what his weapons have done to other people, yet giving the reasons why he’d never do that to you. He finds explaining his work to be intimate, showing you a side of him only ghosts have ever seen.
Billy & Stu:
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These two come as a package deal, and they love when you play helpless victim. Billy is more directly into the knife aspect, he loves tracing shapes on your skin, might even let you do it back to him if he’s in a particularly good mood. But Stu is into the blood. Nothing could stop his horny brain from thinking about you and Billy covered in blood, doesn’t care if it’s your own or someone else’s. He likes to play with it, and he’ll get upset if you try to clean yourself off too soon. He has hundreds of Polaroids of you and Billy.
Otis Driftwood:
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Admittedly, Otis thinks you’re a god damn work of art. And any good artist wants to leave their mark on their most prized piece. His initials are carved on both your thighs, through less than delicate work, because he wants any man who dare try to get that far with you, know exactly who you belong to. And know that he will find them. The only place he won’t use his knife is on your pretty face. He likes delicate and soft the skin is there and doesn’t want to shatter the effect of your dolll like beauty.
Baby Firefly:
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Baby is just as depraved as Otis. Her version of foreplay is letting you play helpless victim. She loves to chase you, scare you, make you bleed rubies just for her. She loves holding it against your neck while she whispers sweet nothings in your ear. She loves the smell of the adrenaline coming off your skin when she has you willing and complaint for her. She probably gives the best aftercare as well. Taking her time to clean and patch you up so she gets to play nurse.
Patrick Bateman:
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This main only gets off if someone else’s pain is involved. You’re barely any safer with him than anyone else would be. The one thing keeping your pretty little heart beating, in his eyes, is that he owns you. And Patrick takes care of his property. You’re part of his routine, coming home after a long day, just to leave a new mark on you while he fucks you into oblivion. He loves to trace and lick at your scars, and remind you that he lacks those imperfections he’s given you. He’s in control and he’ll be sure you and everyone else knows that.
An: that’s all I got for now but I have been feeling a little mentally better about trying to write again. It’s not nearly as scary as it has been for months. Things are slowly getting better.
Tag: @oceansrose2002 @kados-of-chaos @mothmans-kingdom @myers-meadow
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honeybeefae · 2 years ago
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Pretty Little Tears (Rhysand x Reader)
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KINKTOBER DAY NINE: TEARS
Summary// He knew you could take him deeper. You were doing so well. It was taking all of your strength not to throw up as Rhys forced himself down your throat more and more, but when those tears started to roll down your face, smearing your makeup, he felt something primal stir deep inside of him. And he wanted more.
(This is definitely one of the shorter fics for Kinktober as well as ending in an ambiguous way, I hope you guys still like it. I’m not 100% confident with it but I’ve edited it to hell and back so I think this is the best I am going to get. Enjoy! :))
WARNINGS:  18+, Smut, Degradation, Crying Kink, rough BJ, gagging
Your mate had been staring at you all night, the risque dress you were dawning barely leaving anything to the imagination. It was something you saved only for your visits to the Hewn City as it helped you get into your role of the wife of Rhysand, ruler of the Court of Nightmares. 
It was a part you were new to, trying your best to match Rhys’s mask. The hardest thing was watching, and sometimes participating, in dueling out punishments for the wicked people that resided here. A part of you would feel guilty hearing their pleas and cries but knowing what they did, the innocent people who they tortured or hurt, made it easier to swallow.
Tonight was no different, though you had not heard any report of trouble so far. Everyone was dining and dancing in somewhat peace. Mor was off to the side with Cassian chatting about something, Azriel dwelling in the shadows, while you danced within the arms of one of your cousins as your mate watched from his throne above.
“You look lovely tonight, Y/N.” Your cousin, Dephren, commented. He was a head taller than you, with hair just like yours, but as wicked as they came. You would even say he could rival Mor’s father, Keir, in his attempts to gain power in the court. “I am glad to see our High Lord is keeping you in good health.”
“As am I.” You said curtly, glancing at Rhys briefly as you twirled across the floor. “I have much to be grateful for from him.”
“That you do, cousin. I must ask, though, are you sure you are satisfying him?” He asked, his eyes full of cruel mirth. “I would never insult you but I do worry about my Lord, and I as well as many others truly wonder if you are the right person for him.”
Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed the other vultures of the court leering at you and eavesdropping on the conversation. It must have been talked about beforehand as someone had called away Rhys so that he was not within earshot to hear the slander they were saying.
You suddenly found yourself floundering like a fish out of water, the facade you put up cracking just the slightest bit, as Dephren spun you round and round.
“I will take your silence as answer enough.” He smirked, tightening his grasp on your hands as the music finally came to a stop. Everyone started politely clapping, gearing up for another song as your cousin bowed mockingly in your direction. “I think Remia would be a better fit for him, she certainly seems to be able to keep his attention.”
Remia was the daughter of one of Keir’s closest allies and a great beauty in the Hewn City. She was also as vicious and hungry as the rest of them, willing to follow whatever orders it took to rise above and look down on the people below. You knew your family was bitter about your new life, about how their weakest child found herself mated to the High Lord himself and cut all ties to her family. 
However, you didn’t expect them to try and cast you aside so brazenly. It had you cursing at how naive you were, how you thought there was no threat to you anymore now that you were happy and loved. 
His words cut through your skin like a knife as you turned to look at your mate, mouth tightening at the egregious display of affection Remia was showering him with. Mor and Cassian had picked up that something was amiss, picking up the tail end of your cousin's words and following your eyes to Rhys.
Before you could turn around and say anything to him, Mor was at your side with a glare that could turn a man to stone. “How bold of you to say the things you do about Rhysand’s mate, Dephren.” She hissed, placing herself in front of you. “Perhaps you would like to speak louder for him to hear?”
“Mor.” He nodded, forcing a polite smile. “I meant no to disrespect to Y/N, I assure you. I was simply pointing out a concern most of us have, isn’t that one of her duties?”
She opened her mouth to lay in on him but you put a hand on her shoulder, squaring your shoulders and stepping around her to stand toe to toe with him. You could sense Rhysand in your mind wondering what had drawn the crowd but you shut him out. This was something you needed to handle yourself. 
What you said next, how you handled this test of disrespect, would dictate how everyone saw you. You needed to be equally as fearsome as your mate if you were going to rule beside him. 
“My duty, Dephren, is not for you to question.” You challenged loudly, your voice echoing off of the mountain walls for the entire court to hear. “I can assure you that your High Lord is very satisfied with the way I fuck him. Not that it is any of your business nor whatever whore you’ve sent his way to try and distract him.”
Rhysand appeared behind you, darkness surrounding him as Dephren shrunk back in fear. You smirked as one of his hands slunk around your waist and pulled you into his side, his nose dipping into your hair as you refused to break eye contact.
You had everyone's attention now and while as before you would have shrunk back from it, now you wore it like a crown. They should be the scared ones and from the looks on their faces, it seemed that they realized what monster they awoke.
As you stood straighter and held your higher you could feel your mate's approval. Not only was he proud of you but you could feel his caress in the back of your mind, and could hear the lustful thoughts that flickered through his mind as you took a couple of steps forward. He liked this version of you.
“I find it funny cousin that you call my relationship into question when I highly doubt your wife could say the same about your performance, don’t you think?” You taunted, raising your eyebrow as his face turned a fierce shade of red. 
The people behind him started to whisper and chuckle while his wife took a huge gulp of wine, trying to remain invisible. You weren’t done humiliating him though, he needed to be an example to the rest of them.
“What’s the nickname she gives you to her friends? Minute man?”  The question was rhetorical as your smirk grew, hearing Rhys’s voice in the back of your mind.
I didn’t know you could be so cruel, Y/N. This poor man is about to throw himself down the side of the mountain if you continue any longer.
Hopefully, the lesson is almost learned then. I would hate to have to repeat myself.
His fingers tightened on your hip in approval, satisfied to watch you work. Dephren was a shadow of the man he was ten minutes earlier as you left your mate’s hold to stand over him. It shouldn’t have felt as good as it did but you didn’t want to feel guilty now. He deserved it.
“Kneel.” You commanded, voice velvety smooth. It was only one word but it held so much power and control you couldn’t help but feel drunk off of it. “Kneel and apologize and I might forget this conversation ever happened.”
And to your surprise, he wasted no time in complying with your request. His knees hit the floor hard as he knelt at your feet, lowering his head in submission. 
“Please, Y/N, forgive me.” Dephren squeaked. “I beg of you.”
You turned to Rhysand, tilting your head in question to see what he thought. He gestured towards you before crossing his arms over his chest and smiling darkly, enjoying the show. 
“Just remember, my dear Dephren, who I am.” You warned, your voice like ice as you glanced around at the rest of the spectators. “As shall the rest of you. I do not forget and the next person I hear, or even think, of such slander, I shall have their tongues and their minds.” 
Your skirts swished around your feet as your turned and grabbed Rhys’s hand, letting him lead you to the throne and adorn his lap as Dephren swiftly stood and disappeared into the background. There was a beat of silence before the music started back up and everyone returned to their respective places. 
It was taking all of your concentration to control your breathing and not break out in a sweat as your adrenaline came crashing down. You didn’t recognize the woman saying those things as you replayed it over and over in your mind. It was as if you had been possessed by someone else.
You were wonderful, Y/N. You had me utterly entranced with your performance.
His hands grazed up your bare legs, catching on the sheer fabric as he reached the crest of your hips. It was a delicate touch that sent the filthiest thoughts into your head. You craved more, your breathing evening out as he went higher and higher until he caressed the side of your breast. 
Goosebumps erupted across your skin as you turned to look into his violet eyes, your face flushed with desire. You were as bewitched by him as he was with you, licking your lips hungrily as he scowled at Keir who was waiting for the two of you to notice him.
“What is it now?” Rhysand snapped, holding you tighter as you began to kiss up his neck. You usually weren’t one for huge public displays of affection but with what happened tonight, it was like you were a new woman. 
A hungry, aching woman.
As Keir began his question about one of the other people in the room you tuned him out, your sex slickening as you began to grow impatient at Rhys’s lack of attention toward you. His hand still rested on your hip, rubbing small, enticing circles as he droned on and on.
It was only after a few minutes you decided to take matters into your own hand. You did not know if you were feeding off the raw power you had just realized you held or if it was simply adrenaline, but whatever it was it had you worked into a frenzy. 
Rhys…
Though his eyes never left Keir's, he tensed ever so slightly under your touch. You knew you had his full attention. While maintaining a bored expression on your face, you began to show him all the multiple times you had pleased him. It started off with just small glimpses of skin and soft moans but as your impatience grew, you sent him much more vulgar things.
And when you whispered into his mind just how wet you were with the picture of you exploring yourself, you felt his resolve snap underneath you like a twig.
“Do I not have you here to maintain order while I am away, Keir? Are you not able to handle things?” Rhysand snarked, raising an eyebrow as you both stood abruptly. “You bore myself and Y/N with these meaningless conflicts. If you cannot control them by yourself perhaps your leadership needs to be questioned.”
Keir immediately bowed his head while muttering apology after apology. “I did not mean to bore, my lord, nor Lady Y/N. I was simply-”
Rhys clicked his tongue, silencing the steward swiftly. “And yet you continue to do so. We will be taking our leave now but I will be returning within the next few days. I suggest you make sure everyone is on their best behavior…otherwise you might find yourself on the edge of the sword.”
“Yes, of course.” He replied with gritted teeth. Mor, Azriel, and Cassian were already gone by the time you were leaving the grand room. You smiled coyly at your mate, licking your lips as he pulled you flush against his body.
“Do not play modest with me, darling. I saw every single thought in that pretty, filthy head of yours.” Rhys smirked, already half hard from just remembering them. “If you think you are getting off easy tonight you are sadly mistaken.”
“I don’t want you to be easy tonight.” You cooed, gazing at him through your lashes. “I want you to make me scream so loud that everyone in the Hewn City knows who was right tonight.”
His eyes darkened and before you could blink you were plunged into darkness, appearing in your shared bedroom moments later. You gasped when you were shoved roughly against the door but his lips smothered yours before you could say anything else.
You melted into him, your tongue dancing with his while your hands found purchase in his hair. It was soft against your fingers, which tightened into fists when he wedged his thigh between your legs. The friction was heavenly as you had soaked through your panties, your dress allowing him easy access.
“Is that all for me?” Rhys purred into your ear, biting down on your lobe before kissing and nipping his way back to your lips. You nodded, too out of breath to say anything, to which he smiled devilishly. “I’ve barely even touched you and you’re already speechless.”
The air around you was thick with need as you grabbed one of his hands and placed it on your breast, your hips rutting against his leg. “Are you just going to talk or will I see any action from you, my lord?”
Rhysand couldn’t help but grin at your words. Even pinned against the wall, pussy dripping for him, you found a way to smart off to him. It was one of the things he loved you for, the fire within you.
With one push off the wall, he separated your bodies and crossed his arms over his chest. “Take it off. Now.”
Your heart fluttered at his change of tone, fingers trembling in excitement as you started to pull down the straps of your dress. You knew that your words had awoken that dark, sadistic streak he kept carefully locked away. It was something you didn’t get to see often but tonight you wanted it. 
You wanted him to use you for pleasure, to let him so thoroughly fuck you that there was no doubt left that only you could bring him to that level of ecstasy. It seemed that Dephren’s words had indeed got under your skin but hopefully this would ease it.
Rhysand knew it as well. He had wanted to torture the greasy, traitorous man as soon as he pieced together what happened but you took over effortlessly, showing everyone in that room who you could be even though his words made you question.
His cock throbbed at the memory of you standing over Dephren, at just how utterly sexy you were at that moment. 
As you let the dress fall into a pool of silk at your feet, the cool breeze making goosebumps rise on your arms and your nipples harden, the wetness between your legs only grew. It felt like it was dripping down at this point.
“Kneel.” He commanded, beginning to undo the strings of his pants while you immediately sunk to your knees. You bit down on your lip as he put two fingers under your chin, tilting it up upwards at him. “Such a good girl.”
One of his hands gripped his thick, heavy cock while the other gathered your hair into his fist. You swallowed in anticipation, both of your hands on your thighs as you opened your mouth wide for him. Just as he liked it.
Rhys growled as he slapped the head of his dick on your tongue, coating your lips with the precum that had already gathered at the tip before he thrust into your mouth with no warning. You instinctively gagged, your throat tightening around him while your hands flew to his thighs to steady yourself.
“Just like that, darling.” He grunted as he slowly fucked your mouth, his balls hitting your chin with every thrust. 
You followed his lead as much as you could, your scalp burning as he tugged and pushed as he pleased. His cock was hard to fit fully in your mouth but you did your best, licking the underside every time he pulled out to drive him crazy. 
Drool was escaping the seal of your lips around him, running down your chin and onto your bare chest. The moonlight shone against it, catching his attention and spurring him on even more as he truly used you to get off.
“This is what you wanted, isn’t it Y/N?” Rhys taunted, his pupils blown wide in lust as you gargled around his length. “You crave to be used like this, for my pleasure. You want me to treat you like the secret whore you are.”
A nod was all you could muster as he pushed further and further into your mouth, hitting the back of your throat and cutting off your airway. It made you lightheaded which only seemed to enhance your feelings, one of your hands dropping to your cunt so you could thrust two fingers inside.
He laughed deeply at your desperation, enjoying the way you struggled to breathe from how far his cock was in your mouth. It was almost all the way in when you started to push against his leg in a warning. You were going to have to come up for air soon.
However, he knew you could take him deeper. You were doing so well. It was taking all of your strength not to throw up as Rhys forced himself down your throat more and more, but when those tears started to roll down your face, smearing your makeup, he felt something primal stir deep inside of him. And he wanted more.
With an audible pop, he pulled himself out, your lungs burning as you coughed and sputtered. You were still slightly dizzy from the lack of oxygen when two hands hoisted you up and turned you so that you were facing your mate.
“Look at you…” Rhysand praised, smearing your mascara underneath his thumb as another tear ran down your face. “Perfectly ruined, all for me.”
“Only for you.” You whispered hoarsely, closing your eyes when his hand curled around your throat assertively. 
The sight of you teary-eyed and wrecked almost made him cum in his pants. You were wrapped around his finger, ready to give him whatever he wanted without realizing that the only thing he did want was you.
“Let’s see if we can wreck you even further. Can you do that for me? Can you take more?” He asked you, wanting to make sure you were okay even if he was about to bust at the seams.
You kissed him softly while grabbing his free hand and guiding it towards your sex, jumping when he brushed against your clit before pulling back so that you were looking into his eyes. 
“I told you I wanted you to make me scream so loud they could hear me in the Hewn City. My mind hasn’t changed, Rhysand.” You smirked, letting him sprawl you out on the bed behind you and spread your legs impossibly wide. 
Rhys crawled on top of you, kissing your forehead once, before making his way down your body. “Darling, I’m going to make you cry until the skies themselves begin to weep.”
And with one last smirk, he began to feast on your body until the very ground shook from your screams of pleasure.  
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