#Look you doing the “what kind of brother am I?” in that one part got the worms going

[bm571158]

Lessons In Love- LN4

Description: Lando decides to offer to help his inexperienced friend gain some sexual experience because he can’t face the idea of her doing that with another man. The only issue is that everyone but her knows he’s secretly been in love with her for years, and this is only going to make it even more complicated.

18+ 🔥

Part One

Lando and Alicia had been friends for as long as he could remember. He’d met her brother karting in the early days, she’d always followed the two of them around and they’d just clicked. Her brother James had stopped karting and Lando didn’t see much of him anyone, but Alicia had stayed. A constant in the chaos of F1.

She was busy with her own stuff these days and he didn’t get to see her nearly as much as he would’ve liked, but when she’d told him that she’d booked some modelling work and was going to he in Monaco for a few weeks he’d been quick to suggest that came to stay with him. A chance for them to catch up, even if he was going to be away racing for half of it.

Initially, she’d been unsure, then she’d given into his pleading and agreed it would be nice for the two of them to catch up. But from the moment she’d stepped foot in his apartment it had been almost a kind of torture for Lando. Because she might’ve been blissfully unaware, but he’d been completely and utterly in love with her since they turned fifteen. He’d just never had the balls to tell her in case it ruined everything.

She’d gone out that particular night to meet some friends. Short, tight black dress. Ridiculously high heels and looking like she’d walked straight out of one of his dreams. When she’d given him a twirl and asked him to take a photo of her before she went out he’d not been able to muster anything more than a “you look nice” because all he could think about was her going out in Monaco and having a load of other men’s eyes and hands on her.

He wasn’t about to say that out loud though, so he’d told her to have a good time and call him if she needed picking up. She’d winked, told him not to wait up and gone skipping out of the door.

He had waited up though, just in case. Just because he wanted to make sure that she got home okay. Couldn’t sleep without knowing that she had. It had been a good job that he had as well, it was nearly two in the morning when she’d called him, sounding slightly panicked and between tearful apologies asked if he could come and pick her up.

The address that she gave him caught him by surprise. It was miles away from where she had said that she was going to meet her friends. When he picked her up she was all dishevelled, stood outside an apartment building on her own and her makeup smeared from where she’d obviously been crying.

“What happened?” He asked quickly as she got in the car.

“I went home with this guy and…” she hiccuped.

“Did he…? Because I swear I’ll go up there and-“

“Lando.” She laid her hand on his arm. “He didn’t do anything wrong. It was me, I panicked and just… god I feel so stupid.”

Lando relaxed a little, but still didn’t move.

“Can you please just take me home? I don’t want him wondering why I ran out of his apartment like a lunatic and am now just sitting in the car outside.” She pleaded.

Lando looked over at her again, then started the engine and drove the two of them back home. Once they’d got back she thanked him quietly, but was quick to disappear into the spare room that she had claimed as her own as soon as they got in and before he could try and ask any more questions about what exactly had happened.

When she still hadn’t appeared by nearly lunch time the next day, Lando had decided he was going to have to stage an intervention. So he’d made her a coffee, walked down the hallway to the door to the spare room, and after a quiet knock on the door he cracked it open and peeped around it.

She was sprawled out in the bed, one leg kicking out from under the duvet. Face buried in the pillows. He closed the door behind him, then walked across the carpet and sat down on the bed beside her.

“Come on, sleeping beauty. Time to wake up.” He nudged her gently.

“Fuck off.” She groaned, burying her head further into the pillows. “My head is going to explode.”

Lando laughed quietly. “I brought coffee.”

She stilled a little bit, and the lifted her head just a fraction. “I might need more than one.”

“I can manage that.” He laughed, and when she reluctantly sat up he handed her the mug, watching as she clutched it like her life depended on it.

“Thanks for coming to get me last night, I’m sorry.” She mumbled, between sips of coffee.

“Any time.” He reassured her, pausing for a second. “Are you going to tell me what happened now?”

She took a huge gulp of coffee, which was still burning hot, trying to avoid him for a second. She could feel the blush creeping up her cheeks already. “It wasn’t him, it was me.” She mumbled.

“More words than that.” Lando prompted.

Her cheeks felt like they were on fire, the half drunk mug of coffee dropping down to her lap and she stared at it to avoid his gaze. “We uh… me and my friends we were drinking and they were all talking about sex and I uh… I don’t know why but I told them I’d never… y’know… and I was so embarrassed. They all said I should just have a few drinks, find a guy on the dance floor and go home with him. Get it over and done with… so I did and he was really nice but I just got there and I panicked.” She blurted out.

“You’ve never… like with anyone?” He asked, the words tripping out of his much before he could stop himself. “Like ever?”

“Do you have to make me feel even worse?” She asked, burying her face in his shoulder. “It’s so fucking embarrassing. I don’t you to make it even worse.”

He was quiet for a long moment, still trying to process what she had just told him. Because how many nights had he laid awake when she’d been out all night trying not to think about some other man with his hands all over her body?

“You don’t need to do that with some random guy in a club.” He said softly. “You did the right thing… that’s not… it’s not something you do with a random stranger when you’re drunk, not the first time.”

“I’m sick of all my friends taking the piss out of me for it.” She mumbled, still too embarrassed to sit up and look at him. “Why not just get it over and done with.”

Lando inhaled sharply. “No, not like that.”

“Well have you got any better suggestions?” She asked sarcastically. “Because it’s pretty fucking hard to get past a second date when I then get all awkward and don’t know what to do. I’m going to die alone at this rate.”

“You’re twenty three.” Lando chuckled. “I don’t think you’re quite in the dying alone territory just yet.”

“You know what I mean.” She rolled her eyes.

He was quiet for a long time. “I uh… if you’re sure you don’t want to wait… I could… you know… teach you.”

He held his breath as he said it. He’d almost certainly crossed a line and said something he couldn’t take back. But the idea of her doing that with some random guy in a club while she was drunk… he just couldn’t bear it.

There was a long pause, and just as he was about to start hurriedly back tracking and trying to claim that he had been joking she’d sat up and looked at him.

“I… you’d do that?” She asked curiously. “It doesn’t… like freak you out that I’ve never, you know… because you’ve….”

“If you call me a manwhore again I’m walking out.” He told her. “It was a very bad couple of months and I regret it.”

“Wasn’t going to say it.” She laughed. “But yeah you’ve… got experience.” Her lips twitched into a smirk again.

“I’m never going to live that down, am I?” He sighed.

“Probably not.” She agreed. “But really, it wouldn’t like… make things weird?”

He shook his head. “I don’t want you going out and doing that with some random guy when you’re too drunk to know what you’re doing. If it’s what you want I can teach you… we’ll be fine.”

“Really?” She asked, sitting up a bit straighter.

He nodded. “If it’s what you want.”

She dragged her teeth along her bottom lip, looking over at him. “I want to do it.” She nodded. She looked at him expectantly.

“Not right now… I’m going to go make some breakfast. You need to eat something and sleep off your hangover. We’ll talk properly later.”

She’d showered, changing into fresh pyjamas, and wandered out into the living room, taking the plate of waffles Lando offered to her before flopping down on the sofa. Lando had joined her not long after, flicking idly through Netflix for something to watch. She finished her food, put the plate on the coffee table and shifted around on the sofa to get comfortable.

Eventually Lando had got fed up with her fidgeting, grabbed her legs and pulled them into his lap. His hands resting on her shins, fingers running back and forth over the smooth skin of her legs. His eyes were fixed on the screen ahead, but she could see the way he kept glancing over at her out of the corner of his eye.

“Lando?” She said softly.

“Yeah?” He turned to look at her.

“I think… I think I’m ready for you to teach me.” She breathed, her heart already hammering in her chest with nerves.

He looked at her for a moment, and her stomach twisted nervously, thinking he was about to say no. That he’d had the realisation that he didn’t want to be with someone who had no idea what they were doing.

“Come here.” He said softly, and she sat up nervously.

His hands fell to her hips, sending a shiver down her spine, guiding her until she was straddling his thighs, knees bracketing his hips. Her face level with his.

“You okay?” He asked softly, brushing her hair out of her face. “We don’t have to do anything… if you change your mind at any point, you just tell me and we’ll stop.”

His hand trailed from her hair, down her cheek and collar bone leaving a trail of goosebumps in the wake of his fingertips.

“I’m good.” She breathed.

“You’ll tell me?” He persisted. “You promise.”

“Promise.” She nodded.

“Good girl.” He said softly, hand making its way back up to cradle her jaw, moving his face closer to hers. Her eyes fluttered shut as his lips brushed hers, slowly and gently to begin with, like he was just testing the waters.

His other hand splayed across her back, pulling her in closer to him until her chest was pressed against his, the kiss deepening and his tongue slipping into her mouth with a quiet groan.

The kisses were soft, unhurried and like he had all the time in the world. A million miles away from the guy she’d left the club with the night before. She didn’t have that same riding sense of panic that she’d had with the other guy. She didn’t know if it was because she was sober, or because it was Lando and she knew he’d never hurt her, but she felt safe as she leaned in and kissed him back enthusiastically, fingers twisting into the curls of his hair.

His hand slid down her back, tracing the curve of her ass, giving it a squeeze that had a breathy moan escaping her mouth and catching her by surprise. The sound went straight through Lando, his cock already straining at his sweatpants and he couldn’t help but wonder if she could feel quite how hard he was already.

He reluctantly pulled away from her lips to catch his breath, tipping her head back and dragging his lips down her neck, teeth nipping at her skin and then soothing it with his lips.

“Lando, please…” she gasped out, she didn’t even really know what she was pleading with him to do. Anything. Something. Everything.

He let out a quiet hiss as her hips ground down into his. His hands grabbing her hips to keep her still. As his hands splayed across her thighs, his fingers toyed with the hem of her pyjama shorts, looking at her to try and gauge her reaction.

“Is this okay?” He asked, fingertips slipping just inside her shorts.

She nodded, biting her lip.

“Words, darling.” He reminded her.

“Touch me, please.” Her voice faltered with nerves. “I want you to touch me, Lando.” She repeated, sounding a bit more confident this time.

“Good girl.” He praised her softly. His fingers hooked into the waistband of her shorts and panties, lifting her up enough that he could tug them both down her legs, leaving her sat in his lap completely bare, with a blush creeping up her neck. She buried her head in his neck, suddenly feeling incredibly explode.

“So pretty.” He said softly in her ear, fingers trailing teasingly up the inside of her thighs. “Don’t hide from me, you don’t need to be shy. You still okay?”

“Yeah.” She breathed. “I’m okay.”

“Relax.” He said softly. “You’re okay.” His hand crept higher up her thigh, fingers trailing softly through the slick mess between her thighs. He sucked in a breath as he realised how wet she was, trying to calm him self down as it felt like every drop of blood in his body rushed to his groin.

He dragged his fingers slowly back and forth between her folds, spreading her wetness, watching as her head tipped back and and her eyes fluttered closed. A quiet gasp escaping her as he applied a little more pressure.

He took it slowly, as much as he wanted to lose himself in her, letting her get used to it until her hips started twitching against his fingers, chasing a bit more friction. As she shifted on top of him, he let his thumb find her clit, pressing down on it with more pressure.

She folded over, hands on his shoulder and face buried in his neck, another gasp escaping her. “Oh my god… Lando….”

“Doing so good.” He praised. “So good for me.”

Her hips twitched again, her body reacting on instinct as she chased her high. He could feel her breath in short, sharp bursts against his neck. Feel the way her hips stuttered as she got closer. Could feel the way that her thighs were trembling around his.

A couple more flicks of his thumb against her clit and she was moaning our his name, muffled as she buried her face in his neck, hips jerking as she came.

He worked her through it, fingers slowing as she wriggled away from the over stimulation.

“You okay?” He asked as she tried to catch her breath.

“Fucking hell..” she panted, chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath. “I’m good, I’m so good… we’re definitely doing that again.”

Lando laughed quietly. “Fine by me, darling.”

She was quiet for a long moment. “What about you… that doesn’t look comfortable.” She glanced down at the tent in his sweatpants. “Should I…?”

He caught her hand as it began to head toward his lap. As much as he wanted her to, he didn’t want to rush her. “That’s a lesson for another day.” He said softly, leaning in to give her another kiss. “Let’s do this slowly. No need to rush.”

Taglist: @xjval

[aroaceoutsiders]

8/2 mat show notes

i'm leaving for college so this is gonna be my last show notes for a while :( but i am hopefully seeing the tour cast in a few (six) months so!

full principal cast with henry steve, varvar brill!

sorry for all you act ii lovers these notes are very act i heavy because i was crying through basically all of act ii

idk if brent like missed his standby cue or something but when brody sang “my brother could’ve been a football star” the lights came up on an empty table with the laundry basket just sitting there 😔 like rip darry i guess he became the very thing he despised

i don't ship chetsoda but for all you chetsoda shippers they had such a good interaction during tulsa 67 today while they were circling brody - they like walked up to each other and got all up in each other's faces

one (1) person gave awkward applause after jason took his shirt off

alex like slid on the gravel and wobbled and almost tripped on his entrance before GGAH which made the audience laugh

tilly started doing the griddy during the first few lines of GGAH 😭

remember when i talked about jpc and anna fake making out in ggah? tilly and jason also did it today so maybe it's just part of their tracks and i haven't been paying attention

henry steve might actually be my fav steve! i've seen him twice now & i love watching his little mannerisms on stage (also he was SO kind to me at the stage door <3 when i gave him the young cuba sticker i made for him he gave me a hug 🥹🥹)

henry steve is SO big brotherly with tilly ace! after ace's "you wish" he went and made a face at her and threw up his arms in a "what the hell" way like he was disappointed in her for flirting with soda LMAO

cannot express how much i LOVE alex dally's opt up on "i'll teach you everything you need to know on how to survive" - it just scratches my brain

when the rest of the gang entered during ritf brody gave the cutest little wave to brent

tilly was sitting between henrys legs on the car during ritf

henry is also the most "soda's best friend" steve i've seen. the two of them were messing around and like poking each other during the entirety of GGAH and during RITF it looked like they were gossiping to each other

before tilly left the stage during RITF jason swung her around in a circle by the waist and she giggled i kind of love them

paid a LOT of attention to alex dally after seeing sequoiia - he is so underrated. definitely a more mature dally who is in control of his emotions. you can tell alex dally has experienced a lot of loss in his life and johnny's death is the breaking point for him.

he was SO gentle with sky during the pre-drive in scene. like he was talking so softly to him. his "trust me, i know" - i FELT it.

chet and trip were lowkey giving brothers through the whole show and i kinda vibe with it. like they were chatting and messing around through the drive-in and during the second jumping scene they had their arms slung around each other

never noticed that in the background during ICTTYAN ace pulls on bev's dress which causes beef between two-bit and brill 😭 and it all happens in slow motion while pony and cherry are singing. it's so goofy

loving the new choice jason has been making lately pre RITF reprise - the aggressively flexing his arms toward pony after saying "no shit that's a soc girl"

during RITF reprise brent threw the bills a little too hard and they went basically offstage and sky helped jason pick them up

hailey's booth mic was ON during run run brother. i could hear every note she sang. i love her voice

alex dally was just as gentle & caring towards johnny during the pre-hopeless war hospital scene. and his tone switch on "i'll snap a soc's neck if i have to" was SCARY

during hopeless war while the greasers are on top of the car darry wraps soda's hand for him

post rumble curtis brothers hug was GOOD today. brody went straight to jason and brent ran to them and gathered them up in his arms :')

so sad this was my first & last time seeing the three of them together. i love seeing curtis bro cover combos but brent brody and jason are genuinely UNMATCHED

sky also missed his cue or something post rumble and when they brought out the hospital bed it was EMPTY and after lights were fully up on the bed sky came speedwalking out in his hospital gown and hopped up onto the table 😭

alex dally pre little brother - his "that's what you get" was SO soft and sad. he wasn't even rough when soda and steve tried to comfort him. he just kind of stepped away from their arms, which is a different interpretation i've never seen before. all the dallys i've seen (aramie, sequoiia, even alex last time i saw him) seem more angry and kind of whip around in that moment like they're going to fight steve and normally darry or someone else will get in between them but that didn't happen today

like he just seemed SO defeated. and his little brother was definitely more grieving than angry. his voice broke during "does anybody care?" and it was so devastating

ace hugging pony from behind during little brother, soda rocking him back and forth...i never get tired of watching it

brent comer man. i have NEVER seen him cry that hard during the table scene. his shoulders were visibly shaking and he was looking away from pony & soda and it genuinely broke my heart. like i managed to stop crying after stay gold ended but when i saw him sobbing at the table i started crying again

i'm gonna miss seeing this show so much guys :( the best way i could've spent my summer i'm so grateful for this cast and this show

[qoldenskies]

what exactly did the cc!brothers experience when they were cursed? was it like a blurry kind of vision? were they just helpless to watch themselves harass donnie? i know they were at least a bit aware, i think leo said smthn ab it in miner’s eulogy. they were aware of what they were doing, but was the curse genuinely messing w their heads to the point they couldn’t even tell what was right anymore ?

technically the curse manipulated their emotions, not their thoughts. it was a slow build of anger and disgust and apathy and hatred over the course of those three months, and the ways they acted in response all came from internalized self-justifications that they made up themselves. they might refer to kitsune's actions like she crafted them specialized torture, but outside of some things like them being thrown off every time they thought something was wrong, their brains came up with it on their own.

the thing is, they resisted it. leo kind of rode the waves from the start because being mean to donnie is built into their dynamic, but mikey's actively trying to spare donnie's feelings as late in the game as right after the closet. raph pulls back, he stops before he goes too far. but they couldn't tell anything wrong because nothing seemed wrong, it all felt like their own line of thinking at the time. raph felt like he was protecting his family (and making donnie better), mikey thought he was both playing around and getting back at his "abuser" (leo and raph's fault), and leo thought he was just giving donnie what he deserved, taking him down a peg, etc.

the thing is that like... when you hate someone, everything's a subject of contempt. ive found things to be utterly insufferable in the people who have hurt me that ive found deeply endearing in my close friends, or would defend someone else for because i dont think being mildly annoying should be greatly worthy of scorn. your brain comes up with double-standards because you HATE them, and you like to look for reasons. that's really how it went with the cl bros, because they couldn't resist those feelings. they'd only build and build, and there's no ignoring that level of hate and anger. it was meant to build to the point where they would be completely comfortable killing him, after all, and even then raph still mentions crying when he puts his hands around donnie's throat. he still loved him until the very end. he almost thought of killing him as a mercy.

this informs them pretty heavily post-curse in general. they remember how they felt, and they felt vindicated, relieved and entertained by his suffering. it felt justified for all the grief and annoyance he'd brought them over the course of their whole lives. and when it snapped, there was a moment where they had to falter and go "wait, what the fuck am i doing??" first. they came out on the other side remembering all of the little ways their brain rewrote history and all the shit they blew out of proportion out of anger, and they cant really do anything but doubt their own minds from then on. even when there's no kitsune to curse them, theyre going to live their lives in fear.

they're not the only ones who got boiling frog'd, after all... their weaknesses were used against them (raph's strict moral code, mikey's self-centered childishness, leo's struggles with feelings of inferiority and envy) as excuses to abuse their brother, and it's why they so seamlessly slotted into the roles they did. it made so much fucking sense to them at the time, and they're so disgusted with themselves in the aftermath. they said a lot of shit to each other, too, so a lot of it was propelled along by them making excuses for each other and enabling each other.

a world where they just had to helplessly watch would be a kinder one to them (raph especially who is repressing BIG-TIME). in the one they have, they dont know when it started, what parts of it were them, or if all of it was them, in a way (donnie doesnt know this either, which makes it worse. and they never get answers out of kitsune). so they will constantly doubt and blame themselves. donnie will trust them and they will continue to hate themselves for it. they overcorrect with unfaltering, unbreakable persistent love because that is the only way they know that theyre in their right minds now. they cant even admit to being annoyed with him for stupid small shit without wanting to hurt themselves atp.

[thebrokenmechanicalpencil]

Close your eyes, I'm here.

(..... @quibble-auk we ugh I might have really really wanted some sad fluff, it was supposed to be a quick blurb. Not connected or even angsty?? Then Comet took over, ugh my newest contribution to the Dropmix Trials..Yayyy...)

Tw. Eh Self worth, Self harm, angst with comfort because I could not take it right now.

-

Comet wanted to sleep, badly.

He sat in his customary chair beside his brother’s medical berths, with an air of exhaustion. It was noticeable from his dark eyes ringed with blue, the way his shoulders hung low but the muscles of his back still twitched with the need to be awake. It wasn't safe enough to sleep. Not here. Not when Comet knew so much and his brothers laid still in their own recharge. Sunstreaker recovering from his debacle with Dropmix.  A shiver racked Comet’s spine, his eyes burning at the memory of his cowardice, of his stupidity. If the young male could look any more tired, he did. Another wave of emotions hit when his mind turned those fifteen minutes over for the hundredth time. When the world had felt like it had caved in again.

  He had attacked Jeopardy. Like an animal he had tried to eat him, the young mech who had been nothing but kind. Comet had revealed himself to someone else, another pair of eyes. More adding onto his list of threats. What were the chances Jeopardy would turn in a report on him? Comet felt a horrible pit get deeper in his stomach, he had given no reason to not seem like a threat to the medic. He could be right now typing up a report, a slip of data that would get Comet taken away. Panic flared in his heart, tears burning his throat as he sputtered with horrible scenarios. All of which would be his fault. 

The muscle twitch of a yawn wracked through him, cutting off the worried train of thoughts. Comet did not release it, clenching his jaw against the organic signal. Even if he was alone now in a private room, among only his resting brothers.

Cometeater had not really slept since he had arrived in the torrential medbay, too frightened and nervous to close his eyes for more than a few minutes. 

It did not help that those few minutes of sleep were plagued by nightmares, that Dropmix himself and his smell had conjured back up. Those awful images on the computer had only worked up the terrors his mind tortured him with. Comet had  decided after the first night in Dropmix’s territory he wasn't going to sleep until Sideswipe woke up, until he was sure he was safe.

Then Dropmix hurt Sunstreaker. Then Comet tried to kill someone who might have been trying to be his friend. With that combined with every other stress, Cometeater finalized he just wasn't sleeping till they left this place.

What little he could snag was useless, it was a waste of his energy to try. Another yawn cramped his jaw, as Cometeater dug a claw into his arm to keep himself steady.

A warm hand grabbed onto his hand digging into his plating, “Hey..Don't do that..” 

Jolting, Comet looked to the side to find his red brother slightly awake, optics soft with the pain medication. Cometeater felt a new wave of loathing appear when he realized he was so deep into his own head he hadn't heard Sideswipe even stir. What if he had been in pain? Or needed a medic because of a complication? What if-

“Don’t do that either, Comet look at me.” Sideswipe’s rough voice was soft with concern, Comet hadn’t realized he had started to time his breaths with every rampaging worry on his mind. Which meant he was inches from hyperventilating.

Weak.

“No, no hey.”  Sideswipe was sitting up, he was not supposed to be sitting up.

Comet jerked eyes widening with concern, “Sides no, your-” The red mech said not a word, violet optics brightening with every moment as he looked around. Before landing on Comet, who had scrambled to be as close as possible in case the older mech had trouble. Cometeater stiffened under the knowing gaze, his hands dropping from their protective hovering as Sideswipe settled.

Many would underestimate the red mech as ditzy, maybe even stupid because of his smiles and charm. But those optics caught everything, it was annoying at times how well he knew Comet’s tells.

“You’re supposed to be resting..” It was a concerned murmur as another tired cramp went through Comet’s mouth, Sideswipe raised an eyebrow.

“Well yeah, same to you.” There was a protective lilt to Sideswipe’s curt snap, optics picking apart Comet’s tired form. The pretender had nothing in response.

“Yeah thought so, what's wrong?” Comet winced at the sentence, how many times had Sideswipe had to ask him that? Had to go out of his way to make sure Comet was alright. When all Comet did was let Dropmix-

A soft touch. Sideswipe’s rough hand moved to run along Comet’s face, a gentle grounding gesture that had the green mech trembling. He didn’t deserve it. “Don’t get too far in that head of yours Com, nothings wrong.”

But it was wrong, everything was wrong. This whole thing was his fault, if he had heard those seekers none of this would have happened, if he had attacked Dropmix he could have ended the fight before Sunny got hurt. “Cometeater I said stop it.” It was a snarl, that for what felt like the hundredth time, snapped him out of the deep water.

Sideswipe had a severe expression, his mouth downturned and brows knitted. “Talk to me. Don’t pull the you should be sleeping slag because you obviously haven't slept in weeks.” Comet closed his mouth at the pointed remark. Sideswipe had the gall to smirk, “I win. Now c'mon, what's swirling around in there?” Sideswipe tapped Comets' helm ever so softly to emphasize his point.

Comet took a shaky breath, “...I just can’t sleep, too..” Cometeater struggled to get out the right words. Sideswipe watched him patiently, thumb gently running down Comet’s face. That warm touch is what probably let the dam loose.

“Too much has happened, everything is so weird. A- and its my fault!” The thumb stopped.

“I-If I had heard those stupid seekers, if I hadn’t been sleeping, if I was doing what I was supposed to be doing!” Comet was trembling from the force of letting the thoughts finally fall from his mouth, “If I had not been so stupid,” His voice cracked, “ if I could have stopped Dropmix and not froze like some kind of coward-”,  Sideswipe opened his mouth, optics flaring with a sharp emotion. Comet didn’t let him speak, desperate to get the poison out of his brain.

“What kind of brother am I?! I dont deserve it I dont deserve you, Im not good enough-” Sideswipe cut him off by jerking their foreheads together, a gesture of pure tenderness that only made Comet sob.

Sideswipe hugged them tight together, his vents deep with what could either be rage or sadness, Comet felt guilt rear its ugly head once more.

Pressed against one another, they could feel the thrums of their hearts thudding. Comet’s slowed in response to the deep comforting hum of his brother’s. Sideswipe had his arms wrapped tight around the other, forcing slow breaths to ease the heartache coursing through him.

“I need you to listen to me, you hear me? No bullshit, no giggles, listen to me.” Sideswipe’s voice was raw with hurt, but firm as he turned his blazing gaze to meet Comet’s wet gold and black eyes.

“Never, ever say that again. None of its true. Not one word- Don't interrupt me.  First off Cometeater your ours, you will be till you die and you're gonna fragging deal with it. You're not a coward, Dropmix could have turned you into paste, you did nothing wrong. We talked about this. It's not your fault. None of this is your fault.”

With every word the mech grew more solemn, hugging Comet like the world was ending.

“Bad things happen, slag happens Commy. All because you have intuition better than Sunny and I combined doesn't make you all seeing. You're not a Primus damned prophet. No one could have known except the superiors, who we both know can’t tell their helm from their aft half the time.” He snarled, rubbing circles into Comet’s armor desperately trying to comfort the smaller mech, who had only watched with wet wide optics. But every sentence had taken some of the hurt away, left Comet feeling less heavy. He had missed Sideswipe so much.

“Dammit Com, why..” Sideswipe seemed to run out of steam looking at his brother trying to grasp the right words to clean the wound the younger had seemed to let fester.

Comet opened his mouth, heart throbbing at causing so much pain. Sideswipe caught it with a growl, “No. Don’t start, this isn’t something for you to apologize for..Comet I love you so much. We love you so fragging much..Your our brother, nothing will ever change that. Primus, you are the only thing we have that isn’t just us.  You’re ours, I wouldn’t have survived after the attack without you. Sunny might never have found us if not for you..Sweetspark you did everything you could have done.” The older mech's voice held a crack in it, Comet pressed himself forward to cling to the mech best he could with the berth in the way, trying to offer comfort in return. Allowing himself to just finally melt, almost weak from relief and the force of his outburst.

 Sideswipe let out a growl when Comet couldn’t seem to get close enough, and without warning pulled Comet up into his lap. The pretender let out a squawk, remembering Jeopardy’s warnings past his tears.

“Frag that, come here.” With that Comet was tight in the hold of his brother, Sideswipe soothing them both with the contact. For a moment neither said a word, Comet allowing his brother’s comforts to wash over him. His scent the hard thump of his spark, fear dripping away with every breath. As the two held one another, Comet could feel sleep gently tugging at his eyelids.

When Sideswipe spoke again, a while after, his voice was soft. “I'm so proud of you, ok? You did everything you were supposed to, and I'm so proud of you.” With that Sideswipe gutted his fears, stole them away and smoothed the edges. They both knew this wasn’t the last time they would sit down and talk about this, too much had happened. But both were tired, Sideswipe had begun to feel the ache of his old injuries, and Comet needed sleep.

“Go to sleep Com, I'm here. We're both here, we're all here.”

The smaller mech shook his head tiredly, “I tried..I can’t.” Sideswipe pressed his thickly armored helm against the smaller mech’s. “..Nightmares?”

Comet nodded into his brother's neck, fighting sleep with every breath. Sideswipe would have found the battle amusing, if the reason behind it wasn't so spark breaking. Sunstreaker was tiredly awake now, gazing at his siblings, concern in his optics. Sideswipe cuddled his smaller sibling closer, sending a quick tip over the bond that he would explain later. It was steeped in a request for the golden twin to hold his temper.

Sunstreaker moved so his shoulder was brushing Sideswipe’s, a tender gesture of understanding. “Nothings gonna get you Com, I swear it.” Sideswipe tried to ignore the pang of guilt that came along with the promise, how many times had he broken it?  

Sunstreaker sat up fully, tugging his brother down onto the berth and curling against him. Much like they did when they were sparklings, two pieces that fit perfectly.

Sunny laid his helm on his brother’s shoulder, optics a tired glow. Over the bond the gladiator sent soft pulses of warmth, trying to soothe the guilt.

“We're here little brother, nothing's gonna touch you.”

-

Jeopardy would later enter the private room in the morning, finding Sunstreaker awake sitting on the edge of the berth.  Sideswipe positioned so he was mostly behind the other gladiator, cradling a sleeping Comet. The green mech was firmly hidden behind the gladiators, they without budging asked the medic to leave. Saying they wanted some privacy for a few hours. Jeopardy had nodded ever so slowly, his fresh weld shiny in the low light. Leaving the energon on a nearby table, saying he would be back in three hours to check on their vitals. Neither mech said a word, violet optics firm and tired.  

[astonmartinii]

wherever the roots may lead you | charles leclerc social media au

pairing: charles leclerc x antonelli!reader

when one takes an ancestry test they don’t usually expect to find out that their half brother is now racing in formula one…

MASTERLIST | TIP JAR

yourusername

liked by yourbff, user1 and 1,578 others

yourusername: the whole office decided to do an ancestry test - WHY IS MY HALF BROTHER KIMI ANTONELLI???

view all comments

user1: girl i follow you for your pasta recipes why am i expected to know who this man is

user2: he’s a formula one driver?

user3: he’s A BABY

user4: the way this did not answer a single question

yourbff: bro you’re italian, there’s probably hundreds of kimi antonellis

yourusername: no one asked you to be logical about this

yourbff: let’s just not claim a random 18-year-old without verifying it

yourusername: well in the short five minutes i’ve known of his existence i have googled him and all the dates line up

youbff: not to support this delusion but you two do look freakishly similar

user5: i fear my kimi stanship has led me to dark places

user6: for real why is this girl yapping

user7: idk how i got here but they do look like they could be related …

user8: if they are it’s still probably not the weirdest thing to happen in f1 this week

user9: someone needs to study the sport and as to why it’s so fucking weird

olliebearman: who are you and why have you stolen kimi’s face

yourusername: excuse me?

olliebearman: you are excused

yourusername: what?

olliebearman: you are claiming to be related to kimi but i happen to know everything ever about him sooooooooo where have you been all this time?

yourusername: well i kind of just found out about this so i don’t have an answer for you right now?

olliebearman: i’ve got my eye on you weirdo

yourusername: okay?

kimiantonelli: wait!!! ollie how did you even find this post it’s got like 2k likes?

yourusername: omg read?

olliebearman: well it just came up on my explore page?

yourusername: no the fuck it didn’t

olliebearman: EXCUSE ME MISS, KEEP YOUR BEAK OUT OF BEARNELLI BUSINESS

yourusername: you’re doing your business in my comment section?

user10: i swear these fools are meant to be at media day

user11: nothing stops for bearnelli chaos clearly

estebanocon: @olliebearman yo? we were meant to be filming like 20 minutes ago?

olliebearman: oh? i was busy

yourusername: busy getting on my nerves

olliebearman: WHO ARE YOU?

yourusername: you’re on MY INSTAGRAM PAGE

olliebearman: i am a child WATCH HOW YOU’RE TALKING ABOUT A CHILD

olliebearman: @charles_leclerc dad stop her now

charles_leclerc: why are you pinging me during the press conference

olliebearman: this is important !!!!

charles_leclerc: @yourusername oh hi

yourusername: hello ???

kimiantonelli

liked by olliebearman, charles_leclerc and 590,300 others

tagged: yourusername

kimiantonelli: i thought getting points on my debut would be the craziest part of my week but turns out i have a half sister i never knew about ??? watch your back paddock i don’t think you can handle TWO antonellis

view all comments

user12: wait so that trainwreck the other day was REAL?

user13: smile and wave girl i have no clue what’s going on

user14: we need a weekly episode of drive to survive at this point omg

yourusername: we haven’t even met yet

yourusername: i am very excited to

kimiantonelli: OF COURSE WE SHOULD BE EXCITED

kimiantonelli: i knew you were out there i could feel you in my waters

yourusername: i’m not sure you have waters? like anatomically?

kimiantonelli: well i knew you existed before your post so explain that atheist

yourusername: i’m just going to let you have this one i think…

kimiantonelli: that is VERY wise

user15: i am losing my mind over the fact that these kids are talking for the first time in instagram comments

user16: i honestly wouldn’t expect anything less from this crop of rookies

jackdoohan: please do not lump me in with this nonsense

kimiantonelli: so our family love is nonsense to you

yourusername: jack!!!! after everything …. i can’t believe this!

jackdoohan: we’ve never spoken before?

yourusername: well in my familial research i watched the rookie round table and you ranked highly to me… but i see

jackdoohan: wOAH PAUSE

jackdoohan: my apologies

kimiantonelli: they all come crawling back …

user17: what is actually happening?

user18: so like has anyone stalked this girl? who even is she?

olliebearman: y/n y/ln is a 26-year-old marketing manager who lives in london. she runs a pasta-themed instagram account to apparently page homage to her ‘italian heritage’. she has no kids and no boyfriend or girlfriend. by most accounts she doesn’t have many friends or hobbies or money?

kimiantonelli: that’s like… kinda hot?

yourusername: you do you i guess

yourusername: also like that’s such a rude write up on me ???

olliebearman: so you don’t think i’m hot

kimiantonelli: that’s SO rude y/n

yourusername: you’re EIGHTEEN??? and also have this weird tension with my brother… idk i’m not a therapist?

olliebearman: i’ll call my dad again

yourusername: oh the one from the other post? please! i think he’s the best thing i found on my f1 stalkfest

charles_leclerc: well well well, i’m charles

olliebearman: NO?

kimiantonelli: ollie you gotta let her have something!

olliebearman: but if she falls for his dorky charms that might make us incestuous ???

kimiantonelli: i don’t know what that word means

olliebearman: my dad, dating your sister?

kimiantonelli: @charles_leclerc you have to disown ollie now

charles_leclerc: okay, if i do that does that mean i can take y/n on a date

yourusername: DO IT NOW PLEASE

yourusername: woah! i mean, i’ll have to check my calendar

yourbff: she’s free, the lanky one was right, she doesn’t have many friends.

charles_leclerc

liked by pierregasly, kimiantonelli and 1,209,457 others

tagged: yourusername

charles_leclerc: lost a son and won a date. congrats on the promotion oscar!

view all comments

user19: we are moving so fucking fast

user20: well it’s on theme…

user21: well we need to go from rb19 to that fucking aston martin

yourusername: as far as first dates go … well i didn’t think we’d be babysitting a 23-year-old

charles_leclerc: he’s fragile right now

yourusername: and he needed his emotional support not-boyfriend there as well?

yourusername: and that emotional support not-boyfriend needed to bring his friend who brought his maybe-boyfriend who brought his ‘surrogate brother’ which is MY BROTHER?

charles_leclerc: i’m sorry?

yourusername: i’m starting to think attachment issues and homosexual tension is just part of the job description to work in formula one

alexalbon: i don’t think you’re wrong on that

charles_leclerc: honestly i did plan for just a romantic dinner but things came up!

oscarpiastri: well i’m kind of sorry for crashing your date but as previously stated i was in a crisis…

yourusername: you did cry… but i thought that was just to get charles to get you dessert?

oscarpiastri: you can’t prove that…

oscarpiastri: ALSO why are you just coming for me when the others crashed and without a good reason like me?

yourusername: true ….

landonorris: i was taken by oscar !!!!! not my fault

yourusername: you made me move from my seat across from charles because you didn’t ‘like the lighting’?

landonorris: well that was very kind of you

charles_leclerc: you basically sat on her until she moved

landonorris: well maybe you should have stood up for your date!

georgerussell63: considering how badly lando is digging his grave, i’ll just say sorry and that i wasn’t completely aware it was a date

yourusername: how was it not very obvious? we were at a CANDLE LIT DINNER WITH A TWO PERSON TABLE YOU DRAGGED OVER A TABLE TO SIT WITH US

alexalbon: in our defence we were only going to escort kimi there but the curiosity got too much…

yourusername: are you just attaching to kimi because i’m not going to get annoyed at him

alexalbon: …….. um no?

kimiantonelli: y/n he brought me dessert and a funky little drink - MARRY HIM

yourusername: that’s a little fast buddy

charles_leclerc: so you wouldn’t marry me?

yourusername: take me on another date, just me, and we’ll see

user22: she’s stronger than me i would’ve proposed right here right now

user23: nothing more 2025 than an instagram comment proposal

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1, olliebearman and 23,091 others

tagged: kimiantonelli & charles_leclerc

yourusername: so who was going to tell me this f1 shit was this crazy?

view all comments

user24: actually thinking about it, this girl must be having such intense emotional whiplash

user25: legit because what do you mean like last week she didn’t know what f1 was but now she’s related to the best rated rookie and dating (?) charles leclerc

user26: when will these situations happen upon me

charles_leclerc: did i win you over this weekend?

yourusername: maybe?

charles_leclerc: maybe?

yourusername: okay, yeah

yourusername: but you could’ve let kimi through :/

charles_leclerc: that’s kinda not the game of the game

yourusername: but he’s my brother ?

charles_leclerc: you make a compelling point…

charles_leclerc: but, amor, i wouldn’t let my own brother overtake me

yourusername: i see…

yourusername: it was worth a try sorry kimi

kimiantonelli: fear not we can try again when he’s more in love with you

yourusername: for everyone’s information: i do genuinely like charles, this ^^ is a joke !!!!!!! i understand the sanctity of formula one and that no one would genuinely let another through based on such a situation

kimiantonelli: okay miss PR AND MARKETING

yourusername: oh buddy you should see my DMs, that was necessary

charles_leclerc: what ???

yourusername: babe your fans are great but like a good 5% of them are like genuinely insane, like 51/50 level

charles_leclerc: oh yeah… i’m sorry

yourusername: oh no worries i’d be just that crazy for you

charles_leclerc: you aren’t?

yourusername: i don’t need to be, i have you don’t i?

charles_leclerc: oh hehehehhehehehe, you do

user27: WRITE THAT DOWN WRITE THAT DOWN

user28: i’m scared of her, but i need to be her

user29: you can’t be that good at making pasta and have rizz and date charles leclerc

user30: i fear y/n might actually be sniped, she’s a triple threat

oscarpiastri: do you see why i needed emotional support?

yourusername: well yes i get that now

yourusername: but please refrain from crashing dates in the future unless you have let us know promptly

oscarpiastri: i knew i’d get you on side, the leclerc family love me

oscarpiastri: @kimiantonelli watch out, i might overtake you next

kimiantonelli: i will slash your tyres, y/n will bail me out

yourusername: will i?

kimiantonelli: so you don’t love me?

olliebearman: I TOLD YOU SHE WAS NO GOOD

yourusername: first of all, ollie - i thought i’d managed to get you on side with my offering of pasta. second, i love you the most on the grid kimi, i just do not have the disposable cash of a formula one driver

kimiantonelli: fine, you make a point

kimiantonelli: @charles_leclerc looks like it’s down to you now.

kimiantonelli: and you’d do anything for my sister, right?

charles_leclerc: ugh why are the rookies so crafty these days

yourusername: hmmmm?

charles_leclerc: YES I WOULD, FOR YOU

charles_leclerc

liked by pierregasly, kimiantonelli and 1,894,500 others

tagged: yourusername

charles_leclerc: follow wherever the roots may take you, because sometimes it might lead you to the best thing ever

view all comments

user31: i mean meeting your girlfriend through her doing an ancestry test to find out she’s related to your coworker is one hell of a meet cute i’ll give them that

user32: ‘wherever the roots may take you’ okay mr leclerc when did we become a poet

user33: let’s add it to the words of wisdom

user34: the ferrari garage WISHES they could be him

kimiantonelli: well, i am pleasantly surprised with how this all unfolded, you’re definitely the best choice on the grid

yourusername: awwwww kimi thanks !!!

charles_leclerc: thanks?

olliebearman: CHARLES IS THE BEST CHOICE ON THE GRID ????

kimiantonelli: you want to date my sister? i thought you liked another antonelli?

olliebearman: oh!

olliebearman: yes!

olliebearman: … another antonelli for sure

charles_leclerc: @yourusername do i say anything

yourusername: no i want to watch ollie suffer after he’s done nothing but come for me

charles_leclerc: okay, amor

user35: this is how all men should be

user36: AGREE WITH EVERYTHING I SAY

user37: so like… where do we find them because i fear there’s only two ferrari drivers and many of us

yourusername: well i am certainly glad i followed mine

charles_leclerc: led you right to me

yourusername: wouldn’t want to be anywhere else

charles_leclerc: hehehehehehe i guess i have that effect on people

yourusername: PEOPLE?

charles_leclerc: just you xxxxx

yourusername: that’s what i thought

charles_leclerc: speaking of you… when can you come to another race?

yourusername: i’m very sorry to say babe but i do have a job

charles_leclerc: NOOOOOOOOOOO

yourusername: i know :( i don’t dream of labour

charles_leclerc: what do you dream of?

yourusername: there’s this really sexy monegasque formula one driver who has an amazing accent and the cutest little dog. he’s super determined and sounds even sexier when he’s angry on the radio or celebrating a win. you might know him?

charles_leclerc: i might…

yourusername: well you should BACK OFF because he’s MINE

charles_leclerc: yes, yes he is

user38: so like … how do we get her on drive to survive

yourusername: oh you know netflix have been calling my phone

user39: LETS GOOOOOOO

yourusername: don’t celebrate too soon, because you won’t like me when i delete all the cute footage of charles, that’s for my eyes only

user40: i would want you dead, but also real

lewishamilton: ummmmm so when can you come back @yourusername he’s being pathetic again

yourusername: he’s always pathetic that’s what i love about him

lewishamilton: but it’s particularly bad now, he’s carrying a picture of you and leo (it’s VERY badly photoshopped)

charles_leclerc: hey! joris was busy i had to make it myself

yourusername: that’s cute bby don’t listen to him

charles_leclerc: yeah leave me alone lewis

lewishamilton: what the hell, sure

fin.

note: if you couldn't tell i'm a big kimi stan LMAO

[houseofaegon]

Bob and a reader who bruises easily and when they have sex the reader is usually marked up the next day?

Marked ✩ Bob Reynolds

Pairings: Bob Reynolds x Thunderbolt!Reader

Warnings: +18 SMUT MINORS DNI. explicit sexual scenes, bruising (reader bruises easily), rough sex, possessive!bob, protective older brother!bucky, strong language, secret relationship, minor angst, fluff, found family, chaotic thunderbolts energy, family dynamics, violence (threatened),

Summary: You and Bob had been sneaking around for months, the thrill of secrecy only fueling the fire and desire. But bruises from the night before threaten to unravel everything—especially when Bucky Barnes sees them and goes into full protective big brother mode.

Author's Note: omg you guyssssssss!!! i had so much fun writing this one. i am so obsessed with the whole secret relationship setup, and bucky going full protective older brother mode???? ughhhhhh I'm obsessed. i love my boyfriends<3 yelena my baby I love love love writing her so much she's sooo ughhh I love her!!!! i love myself some found family<3 keep the requests comingggggg!!!! i’ve got so many on my inbox already i’ve been planning out all of the fics so they’ll be posted soon<3

You woke up tangled in sheets, muscles aching, skin kissed with tenderness. Bob's arm was drapped heavy over your waist, the rise and fall of his chest pressing your back into him, grounding you, like he needed the contact to breathe. He always held you like that after—like if he let go, you might vanish.

A dull ache throbbed deep in your thighs, your hips, the slope of your neck. Each mark a reminder of the night before. Of how careful he tried to be. Of how easily he lost himself in you when the door was closed and the rest of the world disappeared.

It had started slow, like it always did.

Quiet knock on your door, late enough for the others to be asleep or buried in their own distractions. Bob would linger in the hall, hoodie thrown over his head, hands in his pockets like some kind of teenage boy sneaking into his girlfriend's room.

The moment the door clicked shut, the tension would snap. You’d throw yourself at him—starving, always starving—and he’d catch you every time.

Last night was no different. You'd been watching him all day, practically squirming on the sidelines of the gym while he trained with Yelena.

That damn white shirt clung to him, soaked through sweat, riding up every time he moved. His biceps flexed with every punch, his golden curls damp and wild. You caught him watching you more than once, eyes dark, mouth parted.

He looked wrecked before you even touched him.

By the time he showed up at your door, you didn’t say a word. You grabbed him by the collar of his hoodie, yanked him into your room, and kissed him like he was oxygen.

His hands trembled when they touched your waist. “I’ll be careful,” he whispered, even as you guided him to the bed, tugging his clothes off, already breathless.

“You don’t have to be,” you said. "I don't want you to be."

He kissed down your neck, hands gripping your thighs like he was anchoring himself. When his mouth found your pulse point, he sucked just hard enough to draw a moan—and the bruise bloomed seconds later.

He pulled back to look at the mark, already forming, then looked up at you with something feral in his eyes. “You’re so fucking soft,” he groaned. “I’m gonna mark every inch of you. Mine. All of you.”

You gripped his hair, kissed him harder. “Then do it.”

His fingers laced with yours, pinning them above your head as he pushed into you slowly, the stretch of him drawing a gasp from your lips. He watched your face like it was the only thing that mattered.

His thrusts were slow, deep, patient at first—until you begged.

“Harder, Bob. Please. Don’t hold back.”

He shuddered. “You don’t know what you’re asking for.”

“I do,” you gasped. “I want all of you.”

His mouth crashed into yours, and the dam broke.

You swore the headboard cracked. The bed groaned beneath you. Your name was a prayer on his tongue, murmured between bruising kisses and gasped apologies he didn’t need to make.

Because you loved the marks. The ache. The secrecy.

The thrill of sneaking out of his room at 3AM, hair a mess, lips swollen. Of pretending nothing happened in the halls the next day. Of brushing fingers under the table during briefings, eyes meeting like a promise.

And in those moments—when no one else knew, when it was just you and him—you felt more his than ever.

You traced a bruise on your collarbone absently as you slipped out of his bed, one of his t-shirts falling to mid-thigh. You bit your lip to hide the satisfied smile. Bruised and adored. Just how you liked it.

The tower was still quiet as you crept back to your room to change, slipping into gym shorts and a hoodie for morning training. You paused once, catching your reflection in your bathroom mirror—faint marks painting your hips, the curve of your neck, the inside of your thigh.

Heat flushed through you at the memory. His hands gripping your waist. His voice—“You’re mine.”

You tugged the hoodie tighter and headed down to start training.

The gym was already humming with low music and the sound of punches hitting pads. Bucky was setting up on the mat, hoodie off, sweat darkening the collar of his black shirt. He gave you a quick nod when you walked in—his version of a good morning.

Bucky Barnes had been like a brother to you since day one. Not in the forced “everyone on a team is family” way—no, this was different. Real.

He was rough around the edges when you first joined the Thunderbolts, all tight-lipped commands and watchful eyes. Cold. Distance. Guarded. But something in you cracked through that hard soldier shell. Maybe it was how stubborn you were. How warm. Unafraid to rile him up, to poke the bear. Maybe it was how you asked too many questions. Or the way you always saved him a seat in the briefing room. Or how you reminded him—without meaning to—what it felt like to care about someone without it turning into war.

You sometimes reminded him of Steve.

He saw him in you. In the way you saw people. In how you never gave up on anyone, not even him. In the way you could smile even after a mission gone sideways and still say, "We're okay. We'll figure this shit out."

You were brave. Kind. Loyal.

You were the thing Steve used to fight for.

And Bucky—he didn’t say it, couldn’t say it—but he clung to that. To you. Because if someone like you could believe in him, then maybe there was still something worth saving inside him.

That’s why he called you “kid,” even though you weren’t.

That’s why he tossed you his hoodie when you were cold, sat beside you when you couldn’t sleep, and taught you how to break a man’s wrist with a flick of your body weight.

He watched over you in the field. Back-to-back in a firefight. A quiet hand on your shoulder after a tough mission. His voice, always steady, always low: “You’re alright. I’ve got you.”

He wasn’t your teammate. He wasn’t a friend.

He was your brother. Your family. Not by blood. But by bond. By choice.

And that made what happened next inevitable.

Because when he saw those bruises, the ground shifted underneath his feet. All he could see was someone hurting you. And he'd spent decades trying to protect people like you, people he cared about. He had lost Steve. He wasn't going to lose you.

“You’re late,” he said.

“Barely,” you said, grinning. “Try smiling once in a while.”

He rolled his eyes. “Try not tripping over your own feet.”

“Rude,” you said.

He tossed you a set of gloves. “Let’s go. Standard drills.”

You started slow. Footwork. Blocks. He moved easily, but watched your form like a hawk, correcting gently with a hand at your hip, your wrist, your shoulder.

“Looser on the right,” he murmured. “You’re tightening up too much, kiddo.”

“I’m fine.”

“Mm-hmm.” His tone was skeptical. “Take off the hoodie.”

You froze.

“It’s hot in here,” he added, too casually. “And you’re sweating like hell.”

“Bucky—”

“Off, Y/N.”

Shit.

You sighed, peeled it off, revealing the tank top beneath—and the faint, fresh constellation of bruises that peppered your collarbone and shoulders.

The moment the hoodie dropped to the mat, everything stopped.

Bucky’s whole body tensed.

His eyes locked on the marks. A slow, terrible realization crawling across his face like storm clouds. His voice was suddenly razor sharp.

He stopped breathing.

“What the fuck is that?”

You blinked, already knowing where this was going. “It’s nothing, Bucky.”

“Don’t lie to me.” His voice dropped, deadly quiet. “Who did this?”

“I said it’s nothing—”

His gaze narrowed. “Don’t bullshit me. Y/N, what is that?” He stepped forward, fingers brushing the side of your neck. His touch was soft, but his jaw was tight. “Who the fuck did this to you?”

“I—” You swallowed. “It’s fine, Bucky. It’s—just mosquito bites, that's all.”

“I'm not stupid. I know what bruises look like,” he snapped, his voice rising. “And those? They didn’t come from sparring.”

You stepped back. "Please don't do this."

“Do not follow me unless you’re gonna tell me the truth.”

And then he was storming down the hall, headed for the common room. Straight into the storm.

Because to him? This wasn’t just bruises.

It was his kid—his sister—hurt, marked, and silent about it.

And he’d tear down the whole damn team to protect you.

But of course, you followed him. You fumbled to put the hoodie back on, trying to catch up with Bucky.

You caught up to him just as he stormed into the common room, boots stomping accross the floor. You barely had time to catch your breath before all hell broke loose.

Bob was sprawled on the couch, legs stretched out, hoodie pulled halfway over his head, curls messy on his forehead. Yelena sat beside him eating chips straight from the bag, one boot resting on the coffee table. Walker was slumped on the other, flipping channels again and again.

"Just pick a damn channel already, jeez," Yelena scoffed.

"We have Netflix you know?" Bob chimed in softly.

The second Bucky entered, everyone looked up.

“Do you know who fucking did this to her?” Bucky barked, voice sharp enough to cut metal.

Yelena blinked, slow and unbothered. She raised one perfectly arched brow and held up her bag of chips. “Wow. Good morning to you too, soldier boy. Want a chip?”

Walker frowned. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about this!” Bucky turned, grabbed your armg gently, always gently, and tugged the hoodie sleeve up to show the fading bruise near your wrist. “And that,” he pointed to your neck. “And that.”

“Bucky, please—” you tried, stepping in front of him, but he wasn’t hearing it.

“You better start talking,” he growled, pointing at each of them like they were suspects in a murder trial. “Because if one of you laid a hand on her—”

“Okay, this is very dramatic,” Yelena said, popping another chip in her mouth. “I love it. Are we in a movie right now? Because damn, the drama.”

“I’m being very fucking serious right now, Yelena.”

She shrugged. “Just trying to defuse the tension.”

“And you're not helping!”

“I know,” she said sweetly.

Bucky whirled on Walker next. “Was it you?”

Walker sat up straighter, blinking. “What? No! Jesus—”

“I swear—if you even looked at her wrong—”

“Oh, come on, man!” Walker snapped, tossing the remote on the couch. “I’m not suicidal.”

While Bucky and Walker bickered, Yelena turned to you slowly, her eyes cool but curious. Then—subtle as smoke—her gaze dropped to the bruises peeking from your hoodie, then flicked to Bob.

Bob hadn’t moved. But he was watching. His shoulders tense. His jaw clenched.

Yelena raised one perfectly arched brow. You saw the moment it clicked for her.

Of course she knew.

She wasn’t stupid. She’d seen the way you looked at each other during debriefs. The way you flushed when Bob’s fingers brushed yours in the kitchen. She’d definitely heard the sounds coming from your room last night—because, shocker, spies hear everything.

But she wasn’t going to rat you out to Bucky. No. She gave you the look—the look—tilting her head with the tiniest smirk like, girl, really? him? damn okay.

Then she turned back to her chips like none of this concerned her.

Meanwhile, Bucky was still in full interrogation mode.

“I will find out who did this,” he said, voice rising again. “And when I do—”

“You’re going to do what, Barnes?” Walker snapped back. “Ground us? You're not her dad.”

“I don’t have to be,” Bucky growled. “She’s family. I raised her on this goddamn team while you were still figuring out which way the bathroom was!”

“Oh my god,” Yelena said through a mouthful of chips, “this is better than anything on TV.”

You rubbed your hands down your face and slowly met Bob's eyes, just for a second.

It was enough.

He stood up. Violently. Almost knocking off the entire coffee table.

Yelena sat up straighter, chip bag rustling. "Oh, here we go."

Walker looked from Bob to Bucky, then back. “Wait. Wait wait wait—are we fighting now? In the middle of the living room? Are you guys serious?"

Bucky turned toward Bob, chest puffe like a feral bull. "Say something. I dare you."

“Enough!” Bob’s voice cracked like a whip across the room, thunderous, vibrating in the air like it came from somewhere deeper than his chest.

Yelena froze, chip halfway to her mouth. “Well, there goes the drywall.”

Bucky took one menacing step forward. “What did you say?”

Bob didn’t flinch. His voice was low. "It was me."

Dead. Silence.

Oh, fuck.

You could've heard a pin drop.

Yelena whispered, “Oh my god, I knew it.”

Walker blinked. “Hold the fuck on.” He gasped like he just found out Santa wasn’t real. “Wait—you two?! You’ve been doing it?”

“You?” Bucky spat, stepping forward. “You think that’s fucking funny?”

“No,” Bob said calm. Too calm.

And that snapped Bucky.

He lunged. “I’m going to kill you right now!”

“Bucky!” you shouted, throwing yourself between them just as Bucky’s fist came up.

You caught him mid-swing, grabbing his wrist, bracing your weight against him with everything you had.

“NO! No, no, no—Bucky, stop!” you yelled, pushing back on his chest, eyes wide.

Bob didn’t move. Didn’t flinch. His hands stayed at his sides, jaw set like he was ready to take it.

“You did this to her?” he hissed. “You put your hands on her?”

“I didn’t hurt her,” Bob bit out. “I’ve never laid a hand on her in anger—”

“You left bruises!” Bucky shouted, jabbing a finger toward Bob like he was issuing a death sentence. “You don’t get to decide what hurting her looks like! You don’t get to be the one who touches her and makes her lie to me about it!”

“Bucky, please,” you pleaded, voice breaking.

“I didn’t hurt her,” Bob snapped. “You think I don’t know what I’m capable of? I’ve been terrified of it since day one. Every time I touch her, I’m scared shitless I’ll lose control—but I don’t. Because I’d rather die than ever cross that line.”

Bucky’s jaw locked. “That’s not comforting.”

“She’s not a child, Bucky,” Bob bit out. “She knows what she wants."

"But she's my child, Bob! Mine," Bucky roared, voice cracking with something other than rage, like fear. "I've been protecting her since she joined this team. I've bled for her. I would take a bullet for her if it meant keeping her safe. You think you can just crawl into her bed—what? Expect me to shake your hand? Pat your back? You're fucking delusional."

"She's not yours to own!" Bob roared. "You don't get to decide who touches her, who loves her. She’s not some piece of property. She made a choice. I made my choice."

Bucky’s breathing was ragged, fists clenched so tight his knuckles went white. “She’s my family!" he hissed. "And you didn’t even have the balls to tell me.”

“I wanted to,” Bob snapped. “She told me you’d do this.”

“She was right!” Bucky barked, his eyes glossing over with betrayal. “Because I trusted you. You were supposed to be safe.”

“I am.” Bob’s voice dropped. “I love her. I’m careful with her. You know she bruises easily. Everyone knows it. I try. I always try. But she wanted it. She asked me to. I never forced her. I’d never do that to her.”

You stepped in closer, your hand sliding to Bucky’s chest. “He’s telling the truth.”

Bucky stared at you like he didn’t recognize you for a second. “You let him…”

“I wanted him,” you said simply. “And I still do.”

Walker stood up slowly, blinking like a deer in headlights. “Oh my god,” he muttered, running a hand down his face. “Is this… is this a thing? Like a regular thing? You two just… sneak around and… Jesus Christ, you two fuck?”

Yelena nearly choked on her chips.

She turned to him slowly, eyes wide with disbelief. “Walker. My guy. You live here. How have you not noticed?”

“I thought the noise was the pipes!” he said, flailing.

Yelena tilted her head. “You thought the pipes moaned her name at 2AM?”

“HOW WAS I SUPPOSED TO KNOW?!”

She blinked. "Walker, if your pipes ever sound like that, you call an exorcist. Not maintenance."

He shook his head, exhaling hard. Then he looked at Bob, fury simmering low. “If you ever cross a line—if you so much as make her flinch or cry—I will end you. You break her heart, I break your face. Deal?”

“Deal,” Bob said without hesitation.

Bucky stared at Bob, his jaw ticking. But then his eyes shifted—back to you. Still tight with anger, but… softer now.

“You okay?”

You smiled—small, soft, but sure. “I promise,” you said. “I’m more than okay.”

You glanced back at Bob. He was still watching you like the room didn’t exist.

“He makes me happy, Buck.”

Bucky groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Goddammit.”

He yanked you into a hug, a little too tight, one arm slung around your neck like he was both scolding you and shielding you. You melted into it as he pressed a kiss to your head.

“I swear to God, Y/N,” he muttered, voice low in your ear, “if he hurts you, I’ll kill him myself.”

You chuckled against his chest. “I know you would.”

Bucky sighed and pulled back, plopping down onto the couch like the last ten minutes had aged him a decade. “And for the love of all that is holy—use protection.”

Yelena snorted next to him. “And do not fuck in the communal shower. Please. I beg you.”

Walker looked horrified. “Wait—have they?!”

You and Bob exchanged a look. He blushed. You smirked. Then you crossed the room, and without missing a beat, Bob reached out and pulled you into him. His arm slid over your shoulders like muscle memory, tucking you against his side with an ease that made everyone in the room groan. He looked down at you with that soft, dopey grin, like a damn teenager who just scored the girl of his dreams.

Yelena let out the loudest groan of all. “Oh my god, you’re disgusting. Look at you—so in love. Yuck!” She made a dramatic gagging noise. “This is vile. I feel violated.”

Bob chuckled.

Bucky didn’t even look. He just threw his head back. “Jesus Christ, please stop this. I can’t take it anymore.”

Yelena didn’t miss a beat. “Honestly, Buck? I’m surprised she can still walk after what I heard last night.”

Bob choked violently.

You burst into laughter, burying your face in his hoodie, muffling a wheeze.

Bob cleared his throat, red as a tomato. “Okay, wow.”

Bucky clapped his hands, hard. “OKAY! Great. That’s enough. Breakfast. Anyone?”

Walker, still pale, raised a hand. “I need alcohol.”

Bucky didn’t even hesitate. “You know what? Make it two. Double.”

Yelena leaned back, completely unbothered, tossing a chip in her mouth. “God, I love this team.”

And you? You looked around—at the chaos, the bickering, the laughter—and felt it settle deep in your chest.

You loved them too.

With all your heart.

    ⊹             ⊹            ⊹             ⊹            ⊹          ⊹             ⊹             ⊹

taglist ⊱☆⊰ @the-a-word-2214 @favestxrboy @uraesthete @abbysbenchpr @sammystarswrite @pey2618 @qardasngan @lunaoieoie @orithyia-eriphyle @amatiswayland @madzzz6958 @all-by-myself98 @dark-silhouette @ghost-ghost-13 @wyvernthekriger @gayfiretruck @watermeezer @lvmxla @novausstuff @mommymilkers0526 @natureartisian @feralgoblinbabe @misaki-evans (if you want to be tagged in my future works lmk! <3)

[oikarma]

sports car

pairing: lando norris x piastri!reader

summary: the one where lando gets outed for having a crush on his teammate's little sister.

a/n: bro it's been stuck in my head for a solid week now

liked by vogue and others

yourinstagram my vogue beauty secrets tutorial is out 🪽 all products used are linked below! thank you so much for this opportunity, was insane to me when i was informed of it and still very much is!

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user1 not fair. why is everyone on insta a freaking model

user2 where's the gold necklace from? thanks queen love you <3

yourinstagram it's from brandname brandname 😉 y/n piastri repping our gear? this calls for a c...o...l...l...a........

user3 drop the skincare routine too

user4 y/n are you ever going to a grand prix?

user5 she was at oscar's f1 debut user4 yeah but never again user4 she shouldn't be too busy as a part-time influencer like

vogue we're so glad you agreed 🤍

yourinstagram kisses!

user6 my gf (real)

user7 wait. wait. why is a vogue beauty secrets video title the way i find out y/n is a formula 1 driver's sister?

user8 well tbf she doesn't usually use her full name, probably not to seem like she's mooching off his success yk user9 no girl you're good i realized that a month ago when someone posted an edit of her and tagged it with her full name

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

liked by mclaren and others

yourinstagram best brother 🧡 yay points

tagged: oscarpiastri

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user1 she took the comments about her not showing up to his races personally

user2 wait. y/n is his sister?? user3 oscar you thought you ate

user4 forget f1 drivers i want THIS GIRL

user5 hope you had fun !! thank you for taking a photo with me and my friends liked by yourinstagram

yourinstagram i did and i hope you did too 🫶 no worries, you both were v polite and absolutely stunning user6 she's so sweet aww

oscarpiastri I think this is your first post without any selfies. Congrats.

yourinstagram are we not partially the same people yourinstagram i thought you were smart? oscarpiastri I don't think that's how it works.

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

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liked by yourinstagram and others

lando on the move

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user1 i was not familiar with your game

user2 lando whoreizz more like? dang.

user3 I AM GOING FERAL NO ONE CAN HOLD ME BACK

user4 wait guys y/n piastri liked this 😭

user5 i pray the next time i accidentally make an idiot of myself on live stream my crush will notice me too user6 lmaooo help

user7 who are you posing for? y/n?

oscarpiastri Attention whore yourinstagram the girls are fighting!! user8 this cannot be real. polite piastri just called his teammate an attention whore user9 y/n u are so real for that

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liked by badgalriri, lando and others

fentybeauty Y/N Piastri is the new face of Fenty Beauty. @/yourinstagram

tagged: yourinstagram

user1 i just want to be a nepo baby.

user2 well y/n isn't really a nepo baby user3 nepo sister? user4 most of her image is built around her as js herself i think it's only recently (after her appearance at a gp) that people realized she was oscar piastri's sister cause they don't look alike and she usually only goes by y/n

user5 STUNNERRR

user6 am allowing myself to be influenced

user7 be so fr right now what is lando doing in the likes

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liked by oscarpiastri and others

lando austin, tx

tagged: oscarpiastri, maxfewtrell

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user1 oscar? in a cowboy hat? oh i folded my ovaries exploded i swore i was wearing clothes

lando i think you've got a fan, mate @/oscarpiastri oscarpiastri That's very kind of you

user2 the only time america serves

user3 is when a fucking brit comes over user4 live laugh love lando

user5 good luck at COTAS!! papaya army will be cheering for you *liked by lando

user6 soooo lando have you shot your shot yet?

user7 pardon? user6 i mean has he officially tried to hit on y/n yet user7 no way. she's too nonchalant to date him. piastri siblings do be the coolest crushes fr

mclaren see you, sheriff

lando this town ain't big enough for us two

user8 love to see oscar hanging out w landos friend group

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liked by oscarpiastri and others

yourinstagram you taste like the 4th of july

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user1 Y/NNN ARE YOU GOING TO COTAS??

user2 she must be i don't think she's ever been to the us before user3 queen y/n in mclaren paddock i'm calling it

user4 hold up am i reaching but lando posted burger joint milkshakes and she posted a burger joint and

user5 i really hate to break your bubble but there's literally no evidence to suggest they were at the SAME burger joints user6 its america its all fast food.

user7 so stunningg

oscarpiastri So you ignore your debts and post instagrams

yourinstagram what debt 😭 i paid for your concert tickets no?? oscarpiastri I paid for my concert tickets yourinstagram well we paid for each other's concert tickets yourinstagram you're jokign right do you hate me that much oscarpiastri I just wanted you to respond to me yourinstagram okay 😔 sorry brotha

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liked by mclaren and others

yourinstagram came to support the fam

tagged: mclaren, oscarpiastri, lando

mclaren we are so glad you did 🧡

yourinstagram the teddy is so cute i'll sleep with it every night! tysm for the wonderful welcome user1 aww

oscarpiastri I'm emotional now. Get me a tissue, please. I can't believe my sister cares about me.

yourinstagram the combination of perfect punctuation and capitalization really hit the mark. user2 he's so silly user3 oscar bfr you're glad she's finally started coming to ur races often

lando am i the fam

yourinstagram gosh i hope we're not related that would make it weird user4 well you guys are pretty close to alabama liked by yourinstagram user4 HELP??

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liked by mclaren and others

lando soon.

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user1 ? soon ? as in ? coming soon ?

user2 bro if he looked at me like that

user3 oscar can you explain your boyfriend's cryptic captions

yourinstagram soon.

user4 HELLO? user5 did she just acknowledge his existence user6 tf you mean soon girl lando soon. yourinstagram soon. lando soon. user7 they need help oscarpiastri You see what I have to put up with every day of my life?

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liked by tatemcrae and others

yourinstagram i think you know what this is

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user1 y/n and tate?

user2 the crossover we never knew we needed

user3 WAITTT YK HOW TATE HAS HER NEW MV AND SHE'S TEASING A MCLAREN DRIVER WHAT IF OSCAR OR LANDO'S DATING HER??

user4 i like the way your mind works user5 that's so awkward for her lol if it's oscar "cool you're shagging my brother" user6 or maybe it's lando probably? because he posted soon on his instagram user7 but doesn't lando have a crush on y/n? or is it not confirmed user8 girl idk

user9 baddieeees

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liked by tatemcrae and others

yourinstagram SPORTS CAR.

everybody say THANK YOU TATIANA ♡ seriously, what did i deserve to get to know her? she has put out a killer album, danced her ass off in stilettos, and did so during a non-stop tour. now she's starting another one. respect, a whole cartload of it.

but a little recap: obviously, tate wanted a driver in her music video about a SPORTS CAR. lando's team was up for it. tate (being respectful, she literally had no reason to do this whatsoever except for that fact that she's an amazing person and so very considerate) asked me to film it with lando instead. for "chemistry' and blah but again, THANK YOU TATIANA we say in unison.

hope you enjoy the music video and the song!

tagged: lando, tatemcrae

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tatemcrae there was no need to write a whole paragraph but i appreciate your recognition ♥️ considering an acting career anytime? love you loads

yourinstagram while the answer is yes, unfortunately i don't think anyone else will be considering it for me 🤪 tatemcrae also you fine asf yourinstagram u too bae rahhh user1 i love them sm

user2 that's so nice of her

user3 like i'm sure y/n would've been fine with her but giving up an MV for an actor's gf is crazy user4 i mean...it paid off. the chemistry is INSANE user5 need a man to hold me how lando holds y/n

user6 oscar jack piastri, how are you holding up?

oscarpiastri Have been avoiding the video. Have not been entirely successful. user7 LMAO poor boy lando sorry mate oscarpiastri You're not sorry in the slightest yourinstagram just close your eyes

lando thank you tatiana for orchestrating a music video for me and my girlfriend you're the goat

tatemcrae i think you're just glad you got to hard launch her this way, but you're welcome user8 y/n never called him her boyfriend BUT GUYS THiS iS CONFIRMATION THEY ARE DATING lando yes i'm her boyfriend she's my girlfriend. in case the making out and monkey business did not make that clear! user9 "monkey business" i cant anymore with him ✋

lando @/yourinstagram mommy? sorry-mommy? sorry-

yourinstagram shameless, i tell you. shameless. do it again.

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a/n: WE CAN UH-UH IN IT

[athenamikaelson]

Klaus Mikaelson X Soulmate!Reader x Elijah Mikaelson Written in the Stars-Ch. 27

Word Count- 5.6k

Warnings- SMUT- SHITTY SMUT MIND YOU I’VE NEVER WRITTEN IT BEFORE SUE ME, ****Bloodplay kind of??????****Mentions of burns, mentions of burning bridges, swearing, making out, nudity, sexual thingies, !!!!!!ELIJAH!!!!!! 

A/N- Ya I’m going to hell. This is so bad. I might delete. We all know Elijah gives off Daddy vibes so I want none of you hoes messaging me and telling me his actions are out of character in this chapter. Got it? GOT IT!? 

A/N- for those who don't want to read the smut I wrote where it begins and ends!

Elijah’s pissed. 

He’s like really pissed. 

I’m screwed.

-10 Minutes Earlier-

“You burnt down a bridge?”

“Why didn’t you invite me?”

“I was going to do that.”

I blow out a breath as I glance from Finn, Kol, and then Rebekah. 

“Um, not me,” I gesture to Sage, “We.”

Sage deadpans a look at me and I give her a shrug. 

“Why did you burn down a bridge, Y/n?” 

I turn back towards Finn who seems bewildered.

“We,” I gesture to Sage again, who rolls her eyes, “Burned down the bridge and the bridge’s sign because Sage found out that the wood that created both was made from White Oak…you know…the same White Oak that could kill the lot of y’all.”

“Pardon?”

I turn to Kol who is looking at me skeptically.

“The last of the white oak was burnt down over a millennium ago. We made sure of that.” 

“Brother, it’s true,” Bekah says, “I was going to burn down that bloody bridge myself tonight.”

“How is this possible? How do you know this Rebekah?! And why did you keep it to yourself!?” 

Klaus yells at his sister after being silent for the first time in his life. Elijah on the other hand, who is leaning against the staircase behind him, hasn’t made a peep.  

I eye Rebekah warily and side-eye Sage who side-eyes me.

“The Salvatores!”

I quickly yelp out trying to help Rebekah from having to admit that she had a threesome with both Sage and Demon.

“Yep. I was snooping as I usually do and overheard Damon asking the Mayor about some records about the town's bridge and such. And then Sage here did some digging, the same digging I’m sure Bekah did,” I nod to Bekah who is nodding along with me, “and then that’s when Sage found out from Damon and some records he has at the boarding house that the bridge is made from White Oak.”

I finish my dialogue off with an almost convincing smile and look at the vampires around me. Rebekah gives me a soft smile and nods, agreeing with me, Kol still looks skeptical, as does his Hybrid brother, Finn looks confused, per usual, and Elijah…hasn’t looked away from the wall in front of him in the past 5 minutes. 

Everyone is silent.

“This is the part where you guys say thank you,” I give them an awkward toothy smile.

“Thank you,” Kol yells sarcastically, “Thank you for what?! For one, you burnt down an entire bridge on the ramblings of a vampire that wants to kill our family, and if that’s not bad then you went and burned down an entire bridge…without me. Who do you think you are?”

“Watch it,” Klaus snarls at his younger brother. 

“Who am I?!”

I begin to march over to Kol with my finger pointed and Klaus walks in front of me, stopping me.

“Easy, Astin Min,” Klaus tries to calm me down but I shove past him.

“Who am I? One, I’m the one who just burnt down the thing that would kill you and your entire family. Two, I’m also the one who some weird ass fate thing decided that I’m supposed to carry the souls of your brothers?! AND to remind you all if those two,” I point towards Klaus and Elijah, “were to die, so do I! So if you’re having a fit about me burning down a bridge, literally shut the fuck up because it’s self preservation.”

I rub a hand over my face in exhaustion.

“Y/n, are you alright?”

I take my hand off my face and look at Finn, who is frowning at me, “I’m all good, Finney. Just past my bedtime and incredibly exhausted and not in the mood for that,” I point a finger at Kol, “Right now.”

“What the hell did I do?”

I roll my eyes at Kol’s comment. 

Klaus sniffing the air catches my attention, “Yes, I know. I’ve got to take a shower to get this gas smell off of me.”

Klaus takes a quick stride over to me and grabs my shoulders and his eyes frantically look over my figure, “You’re hurt. Where?”

I try to shrug his death grip but he just holds me in place, “I just got a little burnt from a stray flame. Nothing bad.”

Klaus’ eyes darken, “Where Y/n?”

I shrug off my loose sweatshirt and show him the not so small burn that runs across my upper forearm. 

“Ok, yikes,” I breathe through my nose as I process how it kind of actually stings like a bitch, “Not so little.”

Klaus releases a growl and he quickly goes to bite his wrist but I stop him, grabbing his hand. 

“Nope. Every little booboo I get doesn’t need your blood.”

Klaus narrows his dark eyes at me.

“Y/n, to be honest with you, the little “booboos” you always have aren’t as little as you think they are,” Rebekah comments with a judging look.

“You’re being delusional,” I scoff. 

“Were you not shot?”

I gasp at Finn’s words.

“Phineas, I told you that as a secret.”

Finn frowns and mumbles an apology. 

“Secret? You quite literally told me that 30 minutes ago,” Sage raises an eyebrow at me.

“Yes and?”

“We met 40 minutes ago.”

I suck on my teeth. Oh. 

“Wait, you got shot?”

I side-eye Kol, “No.”

I hear Kol mutter something but I don’t pay attention as I watch Elijah shake his head and walk back up the staircase, his left hand gripping the bannister as he goes. 

“All of you leave,” Klaus’ voice booms, and I nod and begin walking towards the door.

“Bloody hell, luv. Not you,” I feel him grab my hand and pull me back towards him. 

I hear Kol mutter something again before leaving the room, Sage and Finn both look at me and Sage sends me a small smile before looking back up to Finn with stars in her eyes. Finn stops for a moment before me and raises his hand. He pauses it midair, as if he’s not quite sure of his movements, but then he places his hand on my shoulder and squeezes.

“Thank you, Y/n. You’ve given me something I’ll never be able to thank you enough for…but I will try to repay you for this.”

I smile at Finn, “All in a day's work, Phineas. No need to thank me.”

Finn lifts his hand and spares his brother a fleeting glance before leaving the room with Sage in tow. 

“Bloody hell, everyone in this family is so dramatic,” I look over Klaus’ shoulder to where Rebekah is leaving the room. 

“Good night Rebekah,” I call and she waves her hand.

“I should probably go check on Elijah,” I say to Klaus, and begin to move past him, but as I graze his shoulder, a gasp escapes my lips as I’m whipped back around and Klaus’ lips are pressed onto mine. 

It takes me a moment before I process what’s happening, but after a second I’m drowning in Klaus’ lips. I reach my hand up and run my fingers through Klaus’ dark blonde hair and suck in a breath as I feel Klaus’ toungue fight its way into my mouth. I don’t put up a fight and open my mouth slightly more to grant him leeway. He uses this opportunity to sink his tongue into my mouth and massage my tongue with his. I feel Klaus’ hand lower from my upper back down towards my ass and it doesn’t take him but another second to use his big hand to squeeze it, making me gasp.

“Fuck,” Klaus takes his toungue from my mouth and uses his teeth to pull on my lower lip.

“You’re perfect.”

I feel the tips of my ears warm at his comment and I use all my strength to shove him slightly back.

“You’re distracting.”

Klaus’s blue eyes are no longer dark, instead they have a small shine in them that makes them look similar to a small pond in springtime. 

Klaus leans down to meet my eye level, “You seem to like how distracting I am.”

I fight back a smirk, “Shut up, Mutt.”

Klaus smiles at me. Not his usual smirk, or his annoying ass snarl, but an actual smile. 

“You should do that more,” I point to his face and his eyebrows furrow.

“Do what?”

“Smile.”

Klaus smirks, “I do smile a lot.”

I shake my head, “Nah, you smirk a lot. Like you’re doing right now. I mean an actual smile. You have a pretty one.”

My comment seems to have taken Klaus aback and he clears his throat, “I am not pretty.”

I smirk at him, “Oh yes you are. You’re so pretty.”

I don’t give him the chance to rebut my statement as I lean forward and place a quick kiss to his warm cheek. 

I quickly move past him and head towards the stairs where Elijah went. 

“Thank you,” Klaus’ voice comes from behind me. 

“For calling you pretty? Anytime,” I turn over my shoulder and wink at him and he rolls his eyes.

“No. Not for that. For burning the white oak and protecting myself and my family.”

I shrug, “All in a day's work.”

—

I release a shaky breath as I knock on Elijah’s door. I hum to myself as I wait for a response and it takes another moment before I hear a low, “Come in.”

I grab the nob and gently open the door. I’m not quite sure why I’m being so cautious. I’m not scared of Elijah by any means but I just have an uneasy feeling in my stomach. It’s been there since I saw him make his way up the stairs earlier. 

I open the door and step in. I glance around the dimly lit room, and a smell of leather, bourbon and something earthy fills my nose. 

“Elijah?”

“What, Y/n?”

I whip my head to see Elijah exiting from an adjoining room. His suit jacket is off and his white button up is rolled up at the elbows. I watch as he walks behind a dark wooden desk and sits down in a maroon leather chair. He grabs a glass bottle of some dark liquor and pours it into a glass. 

I continue to watch silently as he downs the glass in one go and then begins to pour himself another. 

“Are you alright?”

Elijah holds the glass in his hand as he leans back in his chair. For the first time tonight he finally meets my eye.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

His normally calm gaze his gone and replaced by a look I’ve never seen on him before. It unsettles me. I’m not sure if in a good way or bad.

“You left quite quickly,’’ I say softly. 

Elijah is silent for a moment, giving me more time to glance around his room. Dark wooden bookshelves line the walls from corner to corner, filled with hundreds of books that appear to be of all ages. A grand stone fireplace is at the forefront of the room, and a small couch is planted in front of it, and a king-size bed with dark blue bedding is to my left. All of it is so him. So, Elijah.

“Hmm.”

Elijah’s hum almost sounds sarcastic, which makes me raise an eyebrow at him. 

“What?”

Elijah looks back towards his drink and mixes it, “How's your burn?”

I eye the red burnt skin on my arm and then slit my eyes at Elijah.

“It’s fine. Why do you ask?” 

My answer seems to have amused Elijah because he huffs out a laugh and then downs the rest of his drink. 

He puts the glass back down so hard I’m surprised it didn’t shatter.

“Why do I ask? Why did I ask?!” 

Elijah runs a hand over his face and then undoes the top two buttons of his shirt. He stands up from his chair and places his hands atop his desk and stares at me. His dark brown eyes are black in this light and I notice the frantic ticking in his jaw. 

Oh.

He’s pissed. 

“Elijah…did I do something to make you mad?”

I take a small step into the room and Elijah’s eyes mark every move I make. With Klaus there were many moments where I felt like the prey and he the predator, but never with Elijah. Not until now. Something about the way his left index finger keeps tapping his desk, his clenched jaw, and his dark eyes make me feel like he could pounce at any moment and I wouldn’t be able to do anything. 

“Did you?”

Again his reply comes out almost mocking and if I weren’t dealing with a ticking time bomb right now I’d probably yell at this bitch.

“Elijah, if I did something to make you upset I need to know what that thing is before I can apologize,” I try to reason with him as I take another cautious step forward.

Elijah tilts his head, “And if I said I didn’t want your apologies?”

Ok. Now I’m getting annoyed.

I shrug, “Then I can just leave you to be in your mood and we can talk tomorrow when you want to discuss things like adults.”

Elijah’s lips twitch into a dark smirk, “Like adults? Really? And who exactly here is an adult? You?”

I frown at Elijah’s tone, it’s something cruelly sarcastic and for the first time since meeting Elijah I realize I’ve never seen him this unnerving. And I’ve literally watched him murder people. 

“Why are you being like this?”

Elijah moves his hands off his desk, stands to his full height, and begins to move from behind his desk. I watch with bated breath as he comes around the desk to stand in front of it. He leans back against it, using his arms to hold himself up and places his right leg over his left. If someone were to walk in right now, it would almost appear that he was relaxed or casual, but as soon as they’d notice the gleam in his dark eyes, they knew they’d have been mistaken. 

“Come here,” He says simply. 

I furrow my eyebrows and shake my head, “What? No. You don’t get to just beckon me after being rude.”

“Y/n, come.”

His tone leaves no room for argument so I do what he says. God I’m a little bitch. 

I take a few steps forward and eye the man in front of me, Elijah watches my every move like a hawk.

I stamp my feet into the ground and pretend to bow, “Happy now.”

Elijah narrows his eyes, “Don’t be a brat.”

I choke on my words at the tone he uses to say “Brat.” God Damnit. Wait.

Am I turned on right now?

No. 

No?

Definitely not. 

I think…

“I am not a brat,” I counter.

Elijah raises an eyebrow and then raises his hand and uses his index finger to call me closer.

“No. If you want to be fucking face to face you come over here,” I finally stand my ground. 

Not thinking he would actually listen to me, you could imagine my surprise when he pushes himself off the desk and practically stalks towards me. My mind pretty much goes blank as he comes to stand so close, the tips of our shoes are touching. 

We’re both silent as we stare back at one another. Or more so I slightly glare at him while he accesses me.

“Do you know how irresponsible you were tonight?”

I frown, “Excuse me? What the fuck do you mean irresponsible?”

“I think it would be in your best interest right now if you watched that mouth of yours. I’m already fighting back every thought in my mind to not punish you for the actions you’ve made tonight. Those nasty words coming out of your mouth are not easing any of those thoughts.”

Punish me? Who the fuck is this guy and where is my sweet blushing Elijah?!

“Elijah dude, I think you just need to chill out, alright?”

Elijah’s upper lip twitches and I realize I’ve said the wrong thing.

“Number one, Gemæcca, I am not your dude. So stop referring to me as such, and number two, I will not “chill out” especially after how childish you acted tonight.”

Alright fuck this guy. 

Oh, I’m sure you want to freak. 

Shut up!

“Is this about the fire? Is this why you’re being such a dick right now?”

My language seems to piss Elijah off even more, “I’m being a “dick” right now because my mate seems to have no sense of self preservation or thought.”

I clench my hand over and over again to not start throwing punches with this bitch. 

“What did you just say to me,” I bite out.

“I said I was done with dealing with you, just throwing yourself into stupid and idiotic situations when your life is too fragile. Niklaus may get proud and turned on enough to swallow your tongue in our foyer at the thought of you putting yourself into danger like you did tonight,” Elijah leans down so our faces are a mere few inches apart, “But I assure you, I do not.”

Oh so he heard that. Oops. 

“Well, maybe I let Klaus stick his tongue down my throat because unlike you he doesn’t treat me like a child, Elijah. Ever think of that?”

Elijah narrows his eyes at me, “I do not think of you as a child. But, when you make childish decisions that put you into harm's way-”

“I can make my own decisions, Elijah!”

“Just because you can doesn’t mean you always fucking should!”

Elijah’s booming voice shocks me and makes me step back. 

He must’ve realized he went too far because his face drops slightly, and he rubs his hand over his face again. 

“Elskan I-”

“No, Elijah, don’t apologize. I should be the one apologizing to you, how sorry I am that you had to end up with such a childish annoyance as a mate. Sad and poor Elijah,” I fake a frown and then go back to glaring at the man. 

Elijah’s face darkens and he closes the gap between us and before I can react his hand is grabbing my lower face, “Your existence has never and will never be an annoyance to me. Do you understand that, Y/n? Never. Do you not realize the decisions you make don’t just affect you but everyone around you? If something were to happen to you, if you were to,” He releases a harsh breath, “If you were to die, do you not understand the pain and ruin you would be leaving behind? What of Theo? What of your friends? What of Klaus or I?”

Elijah uses both of his hands to push my face closer to his, “Y/n, I need you to understand this, if you were to perish…I would not survive it,” Elijah clenches his jaw and shakes his head as if just the thought of me dying is too much for him to bear, “Do you know I’ve already decided what I would do if something were to happen to you? I would make my brother dagger me in my heart and put me out of my bloody misery because leaving in my mind and being cursed by that bloody dagger until the end of time would still be an easier burden to bear than having to wake up every morning knowing that I would never lay eyes on the love of my life ever again.”

I don’t even realize I’m crying until Elijah’s thumb brushes away a stray tear.

“So yes I am mad, Y/n. I am enraged that you do not realize that every fleeting decision you make, every wound you collect,” He grabs my arm and makes me look at my burnt skin, “Isn’t the most horrifying thing to me. When I saw you walk in smelling like smoke, and burnt skin, I couldn’t bear it. I can’t bear it. Never in a thousand years have I felt the type of pain you bring me.”

I stare wide-eyed at Elijah and don’t speak. I don’t speak because I truly, for the first time in my entire life, have no idea what to say.

Elijah must realize this because after a moment of silence, he leans down and places a soft kiss right next to my lips, he leans back slightly and looks at me, and I lean back into him. Elijah leans down again but this time kisses my lips. He leans back after a moment with a clenched jaw. 

“You smell like my brother.”

I reach my hand up and run it along his face, “Then make me smell like you.”

*start of smut*

In a flash my body is moved so my back is pressed to Elijah’s front and his mouth is attached to my throat. I release a low moan as Elijah's teeth graze my neck and I angle my head so he can have better access. He takes this opportunity to run his tongue along my throat and this is when I feel his sharp canines graze my skin.

“You can,” I turn my head to look at him, which was honestly a mistake because the crazed look in his eyes is making me feel things I don’t even think I felt while reading Fifty Shades. 

Elijah shakes his head, “Did I not just talk to you about wounds?”

I shake my head, “You can heal me after, do it Elijah. I want you to.”

Dark veins appear under Elijah’s eyes and I reach out to run my finger over them, making Elijah release a low groan. Elijah pulls me in by my hair and smashes his lips to mine. A fast movement later and Elijah has his hands on my ass and my legs are wrapped around his neck as he carries me to his desk. 

His mouth is still on mine as he swipes a hand over his desk and everything on it goes flying off. I hear glass breaking, which turns my attention, and I go to say something, but Elijah sucking and kssing my neck makes my mind go blank.

“Holy fuck,” I feel myself clench my legs together but am blocked by Elijah’s frame.

I feel Elijah’s smirk before I hear it, “Language, Elskan, or I’ll stop.”

“Oh God, please don’t.”

Elijah places another kiss to my neck before looking back up to me. It takes me only a moment to realize he’s checking to see if I’m alright.

“I said you could, Lijah” I stretch my neck so he has more room.

Elijah slowly nods his head and begins to press more gentle kisses to my neck but as I feel his fangs graze my neck, I release a deep breath. Not another second goes by before I’m closing my eyes in pain, from the sharp searing in my neck. I release a shaky breath but oddly enough the pain starts to change into…something more pleasurable after a moment. Don’t get me wrong it still hurts like a bitch but with the mix of Elijah’s sucking, his toungue cleaning the wound, and his hands: which have now found themselves massaging my underwear line, all of it is so…fucking good.

Elijah licks up my neck once more before standing back and staring at me.  I feel a cold liquid run down my neck and I watch as a line of dark crimson blood flows from my neck down over my chest and through the valley of my breasts, staining my white pajama top. And holy fuck I’d be lying if I said this wasn’t the hottest thing I’ve ever fucking seen.

I look up to Elijah…I stand corrected. The blood was the second hottest thing, because the look on Elijah’s face right now, a look of pure depravity, is definitely the hottest thing that I have ever laid my eyes on. 

“Poetry was created to describe women that look like you.”

Elijah’s words come out rushed and breathless as he runs his eyes over my body, as if he can’t believe he’s seeing me like this. And honestly if you told me 20 minutes ago I’d be bleeding on Elijah’s desk all hot and bothered I’d laugh in your face. But right now all I want is this man between my legs and his lips on mine. 

Never thought I’d say those words either.  

Elijah takes a step towards me and but stops as he sniffs the air.

“What?”

Fuck right now would be a horrible time to forget deodorant. 

“You smell like gasoline,” Elijah says darkly.

“Oh…sorry.”

“Take your shirt off,” He takes a step forward and I notice the dark look he had on his face from before is back.

“Take my…”

“Your shirt. Take it off.”

Elijah’s words come out simple and harsh and without even thinking about it I grab the hem of my night shirt and pull it over my head and toss it behind me. 

“Good girl. Now the pants.” 

I raise my eyebrows in surprise.

“Excuse me? You do it,” I say bewildered.

Elijah quickly steps forward and within a second he fucking RIPS my sleep short into two leaving my sitting on his desk in my fucking bra and undies.

“Elijah, I meant you take off your pants!”

Elijah leans back and his eyes slowly make their way down my body and oddly enough I don’t feel an ounce of shame. Usually when it comes to my looks and body there's always that voice in the back of my head telling me that I’m too ugly or too much in some places but right now, right here with Elijah I don’t hear that voice. All I can focus on is the man before me who is looking at me like I’m the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. 

“I much prefer you without pants than myself,” Elijah remarks and I use my foot to push him slightly.

We stare at each other for a moment before Elijah gets a gleam in his eye and he leans down to press a soft kiss to my cheek. He then kisses my lips, then my neck, then the valley between my breasts taking the moment to swipe a finger over my blood and painting it across my chest, he then presses that hand onto my chest and pushes me so I’m laying flat on my back, I stare at the ceiling as I continue to feel Elijah plant kisses over my stomach. I feel his hand grab my ankle and I lean up on my elbows to watch as he places a chaste kiss to my inner ankle. 

“What are you doing,” I give him a tilt of my head, and a nervous smile.

Elijah smirks and I watch confused until he drops to his knees in front of me. 

Oh. 

OH!

“Elijah, what are you doing?”

A squeak leaves my mouth as Elijah grabs my thighs and pulls me to the edge of the desk. 

Elijah places a kiss to my inner thigh, “I want to show you just a fraction of how you make me feel. Can I?”

Fuck we love a man that asks for consent.

“I’ve never…I mean no one's ever…,” I gesture towards down there hoping he gets the idea and Elijah’s eyes darken. 

“I’ve guessed.”

I don’t really take offence to that because I quite literally scream “VIRGIN.”

“You don’t have to,” I shake my head. 

Elijah gives me a bewildered look, “Trust me, Elskan. The image of me between your legs is something that has haunted my greatest dreams and nightmares since the moment Rose-Marie brought you to me. This will be more of a gift to me than it will be to you. I give you my word.”

All I do is nod, because HOLY HELL.

“Words Elskan. I need words,” Elijah chastises.

“Yes. Um, yes, please.”

As soon as the words leave my mouth, Elijah’s mouth presses itself to my clothed core. 

“Holy shit!”

I throw my head back onto the desk as I feel Elijah swipe his tongue over my core through my now very soaked underwear. I let out a sound I didn’t even know I could release as I feel Elijah’s tongue take one more swipe, starting from my clit to my hole. 

I loud snap and a wave of cold air against my cunt makes me realize Elijah just ripped another piece of my clothing. I go to chastise him, but go fucking blank in the mind as I feel Elijah finger run itself through my folds. 

“Oh fuck, Elijah,” I breathe out through shallowed breath.

“You’re doing so good, Elskan. Smell so fucking sweet. I bet you taste even sweeter.”

Elijah’s words only make me close my eyes and pray that any of my dead ancestors are not watching this sinful act.

Like he’s been starved his entire fucking life Elijah dives his head into my core and swipes his tongue everywhere. 

My eyes roll to the back of my head.

“I was right,” I hear Elijah say to himself, “Just like nectar.”

Elijah doesn’t give me a second to adjust because the next thing I feel is his thick finger enter my throbbing hole. 

“So tight, so perfect,” Elijah says as he massages my inside with his finger and- 

“OH FUCK!”

Elijah’s finger curls inside me and if every Smutty book I’ve read is true then I’m pretty sure he just hit that spot. 

Elijah fucking chuckles! And then dares to enter another finger. I let out a breath of pain at the sudden tightness but release a breath of pleasure as Elijah leans down and begins sucking on my clit. 

A tight feeling builds in my lower gut and I feel like I can’t breathe.

“Elijah…I-”

“Let go for me Elskan, I want to see you cum on my fingers.”

Elijah’s nasty mouth, literally, is all I needed to hear before an unbearable wave of pleasure flows through me and I feel my whole body tighten.

“Elijah!”

I throw my head back onto the desk in exhaustion as my lungs fight for breath.

I feel Elijah presses a soft kiss to my center, making me squirm from sensitivity. 

“You did so well, My love.”

*End of smut*

I absentmindedly nod as I feel Elijah pick me up bridal style. I open my eyes as Elijah places me carefully on my two shaking feet. He presses a soft kiss to the side of my face before walking over to a white claw foot tub. Oh. We’re in his bathroom. 

I watch half naked and kind of self-conscious now as Elijah turns the tub on, and adds soap, making the water bubble up. 

“Come,” He reaches out his hand for me to take and I fight the urge to crack a joke at his words. He gives me a look which I’m guessing means he already knew I was going to tell a joke. I take his hand and slowly dip down into the warm water.

A low hiss escapes my mouth as my core touches the water and I feel a sharp pain. 

“You might be sore for a little while,” Elijah comments as he comes to sit beside me. He reaches his hand to the latch of my bra and I nod giving him the okay to take it off. As he slides the bra straps down my arms, he places feather like kisses to my shoulder. 

“Was I too rough,” His words come out hushes as if he’s afraid of my answer. 

I shake my head, “No,” I lean down into the water so the bubbles come up to my upper chest, “You were good.”

Elijah chuckles, “Just good?”

I shrug playfully, “I’d give you a good 7.5.”

Elijah lets out a loud laugh, “Oh really? I must have misheard you because I thought I heard you scream out my name over half a dozen times. My mistake.”

I use a sud-covered hand to shove him. 

“How is it that I’m completely naked and you’re still dressed in head to toe Versace?”

Elijah shrugs, “Is that a problem?”

I lean forward and start undoing his buttons, “You could at least lose the button up.”

Elijah smirks but still agrees as he undoes his top leaving him in a wife beater.

Elijah takes a glass from beside him and fills it up with water before pouring it over my hair. I lay back and close my eyes as Elijah makes work with shampooing my hair, his fingers massaging circles into my scalp.

“Feels. So. Good.”

—

My eyes open briefly as I feel myself being carried again.

I look around confused for a moment before I hear Elijah’s voice.

“Go back to sleep, Elskan. Everything’s alright. I’m right here.”

Hmm. 

I like the sound of that. 

[livinghalfway]

Younger Years Pt. 2

Part 1

Summary: Damian gets temp de-aged to 6yrs old; cue him asking where his twin is. This is how everyone finds out about Danny's existence Word Count: 1608

If anyone were to ask how he reacted when Damian jumped from the bed to attack him, Dick would say that he reacted exactly as a vigilante who’s been on the job for years now would. Ask anyone else who was there to witness it though and you’d get a much different story of events. 

"Aaaahhh!" Both Dick and Damian slam onto the ground. Damian hits don't pack as much of a punch as they normally would, but that doesn't mean they're not precise when hitting a body's weak spots. "Dam- oof, Damian! It’s okay, you're safe! I'm your brother!" 

That did not have the desired effect he wished it did on the smaller boy; if anything Damian seemed to grow angrier at the mention of them being brothers. "Liar!"  

The others must have heard the commotion because the next moment the med bay door is being thrown open with everyone rushing in. Jason is the first one to get to them, and when he does he's quick to grab Damian. He holds the furiously kicking child to his chest while pinning Damian's arms to his side. 

"Dick, you alright?" Duke is kneeling by his side with a comforting hand on his shoulder as he helps Dick sit up. "Baby Damian really caught you off guard, huh?"

Somewhere in the midst of all the chaos happening Dick hears the sound of a camera click, and he can't help but smile. Another photo down!

"Damian," Bruce's voice is firm as he says, "You need to calm down; no one here is going to hurt you."

That of course does nothing to calm the child who just woke up with strangers surrounding him. "Since when has telling someone to calm down ever worked?" Tim questions as he watches everything from the doorway. 

Bruce sends a slight glare Tim's way before directing his attention back to his youngest child, "Chum, my name is Bruce Wayne, do you know who I am?"

"No, but I know that you've somehow managed to take me hostage," Damian growls out. He's stopped struggling in Jason's arms, and seems to be analyzing them all with a hard gaze. "Who are you working for?"

"Do you know about Batman?" Bruce counter questions instead of giving any kind of answer. 

"I might; is he the one behind this?" Damian for the first time looks unsure about what's happening,

Jason gives a little amused huff, "That is Batman, demon brat."

"Surely not!" Damian judgmentally looks Bruce up and down, "Batman is definitely taller than him." 

That of course got a laugh from everyone, and even Bruce had an amused smile on his face as he thought about how Damian said something similar when meeting him for the first time. 

"And do you know who Batman is when it comes to you?" Dick asks after a few seconds. It's clear at this point that Bruce is trying to see if Damian has been told who his father is. If they can establish that relationship now it might save them all from anymore attacks; at least for the rest of the night.

Instead of answering Damian tucks his chin to his chest and glares at the ground. What's really shocking though is how his body goes almost limp. It seems to shock Jason as well because his tight grip even loosen, and changes to a more gentle hold.

Asking questions probably isn't going to get the baby assassin to trust Dick thinks to himself; not with how his youngest brother was raised. They're going to have to try something else, "Hey Dami, how about we-" 

Before he can continue though Dick is cut off by a loud smacking sound. Damian had very suddenly thrown his head back so that it would hit Jason square in the face. He wouldn't be surprised if it even broke Jason's nose from the sound.

With Jason's grip already loose it doesn't take a lot of effort for Damian to escape his grasp, and make a run for the door. Tim, who was far more focused on his camera, didn’t even have a second to properly react before he was being knocked out of the way. Allowing the young child access to the whole cave.  

"Motherfu-" Jason cuts himself off with a groan before running towards the door as well, "You really let him run right past you, Timbo?"

"You're the one who let him go!"

"He broke my nose!" 

"Guys!" Duke shouts as he runs past the two of them, "let's focus on finding Damian before fighting with each other!" 

That kicked everyone into gear as soon all of them were now trying to find the escapee who had seemingly disappeared. The only thing they can hope for right now is that he doesn't find a weapon of any kind. 

Everyone has split off in different areas to search, and taking the situation more seriously knowing that the kid could pop out of anywhere and attack them. It's not until after 20 mins of searching that Dick decides to just start speaking, hoping that he can somehow convince him to come out of hiding at the very least. 

"Damian, I know that you know Batman is your father, and now you know that Bruce," He gestures to where the older man is standing, "is Batman; your father! I swear you are safe here."

The cave is covered in silence as everyone waits for a response to come. Just as it looks like nothing will happen a slight but deliberate sound comes from the side of where he is.

"Damia-" 

"Silence." Damian speaks forward enough to be seen, but making sure to stand out of reach, "Did Mother set this test up? Grandfather? Either way I'm not falling for it. If you wanted to make this more convincing you should have included my brother."

Dick felt a pain in his chest at that word. Brother? Did Damian really have a brother while at the league? Is he talking about a sort of battle brother, or did Talia have another kid? Is it Bruce's kid? Taking a glance to where Bruce is he sees that the man must be having the same thoughts as his face sits somewhere between anger and grief. 

"You have a brother!?" Tim is the one that finally asks the question on everyone's mind. 

"There is no need to continue this act; I've already figured out that this isn't real."

"Like the same mom, same dad type of brother?" Duke even looks aghast at the revelation of a second possible child of Bruce. 

Damian only looks more annoyed at each question, but answers anyway in a tone that makes it clear that he thinks the answer is obvious, "Tt of course. That tends to be the case with twins after all." 

Damian has a twin?

The de-aged child in front of him could lie about a lot of things right now to get an advantage in this situation, but what advantage does lying about a twin get him? Damian seems so sure that all of this is a test from the league. There is no way he could lie about something like this. 

Damian is a twin. 

As much as Dick wished it wasn’t true he couldn’t lie to himself about this. Between the ages of 6 and 10 something must have happened to the other boy. He’d bet money that whatever it was made Talia bring Damian to the manor. Why did she or Damian never say anything? Was his brother even given the chance to mourn the loss of his brother?

Damian had a twin. 

"Jason, you were with the league for a while, did Damian really have a twin?" Tim whispers quietly to the man standing next to him.

"I wasn't exactly in the right state of mind when I was there, and even then I never saw the brat or brats I suppose." 

"Enough!" Damian suddenly slams a foot onto the ground clearly done with everyone around him whispering, "the test is done, and I'm ready to return back to the compound." 

Tim now turns to Bruce with nothing but shock still on his face, "I think it'd be easier to just explain the truth to him. Otherwise this is what the next couple days are going to be like.”

"The baby assassin is just going to keep attacking us and trying to escape otherwise." Jason adds on as well as he takes a seat at the center table. “I for one would like to keep the demon spawn close by because I’ve got some questions he’s going to need to answer ASAP when he’s normal again.”

Bruce seems to finally snap out of his trance and slowly starts to make his way to Damian. Once he's just out of reach of his son he kneels down so that he's much closer to Damian's current height. "Son, this isn't a test, and I am your father.”

"You are a liar; my father wouldn't leave Danyal behind!" 

No one was surprised this time when Damian sprung forward to attack Bruce. In the end Alfred had to give him a light sedative to calm him down enough to be laid back down on the med bay bed. Duke even went upstairs, and brought Alfred the cat down to sleep in the boy's lap. Unsurprisingly, that cat still loves him when he's this small. 

For now they can only hope that things will be calmer when Damian wakes up again. 

The cave after that was met with suffocating silence as there was only one thought in everyone's head.

"What happened to Danyal?"

[lunarcowgirl]

lean with me | two

yeah yeah i wrote another part for my fuckass jack abbot x f!doctor!reader fic <3

read part one here and part three here

not my gif! but i do feel crazy about it!!!!!

~

jack abbot made a damn fool of himself in front of the one person he desperately wants to rely on him, now he's got to hope you'll let him fix it.

~

from the office of the author: damn! ya’ll got me feeling some kind of way in the comments and reblogs, I didn’t look at tumblr all day after part one scared it would have no notes 🥹 thank you so so much for your kind words!!!!! ideas for these two are currently eating out my brain like a terrible infectious disease, so expect more soon xoxoxoxo

also, if by chance you have requests/ideas/thoughts drop me an ask, you’d warm the freezing cockles of my heart <3

warnings: age gap of 10+ years, old man is a goose, the weather is shit in pittsburgh but i am from the southern hemisphere so i don’t understand how real winter works pls forgive me, #rollins apologist behaviour from the author, characters stand close to the edge of buildings but they don’t have any plans for leaving said building, bad grammar, bit o’ angst, bit of fluff (as a treat)

word count: 1.6k

Dr Abbot thought he was doing a rather terrible job at feeling anything other than pathetic thank you very much. The final 30 minutes of the shift dragged into eternity, and you were never close enough. You quietly extracted yourself from every scenario in which Jack might touch you or say your name. Hands quick, words gentle, you continued to heal your patients, but the wound between you and Jack remained gaping.

As 7am dawned, black and cold, Jack found himself to be in an entirely black and cold mood. And Robby’s aggravating cheerfulness upon arrival certainly did little to help.

“Brother,” The new father chirped across the desk, “How’d it go last night?”

“Sparkly.” Jack deadpanned, nearly tearing through the paper under his hands with the scratch of his pen. The computer you’d spent so much time hunched over this shift was now dark and quiet.

Usually you would wait to say goodbye before leaving, punching him lightly on the arm, cracking something wise-ass about putting his compression sock on right when he got home, letting his body rest.

“Don’t want the old legs given out on us now do we?”

You’d smile a smile that would tear right through him, making him feel young, like he could run on those old, broken and missing legs forever and ever. Every time it was a battle to not chase after you, to catch you at your car, to ask if you’d smile at him somewhere other than a place that always stunk of pain. That smile was no where to be seen. He tried his best to ignore the sensation of panic sitting near his heart.

“That bad huh?” Robby frowned, looking across one of the calmest Pitts they’d had in months.

“How is it at Casa Robinavitch?” Jack asked, putting down his instrument of destruction to look up at his friend. Robby looked 20 years younger, almost *glowing—*the freak.

“Baby slept 12 hours,” He declared throwing his hands up in delight. “Heather is perfect, and she is all mine tonight,” He added, only marginally quieter, eyebrows dancing.

In the wake of PittFest and all its rotting, rubbing, terror and ugliness, Robby and Heather deserved some goodness. But so much of it, right in front of Jack, was not kind on the stomach in this particular moment.

“Godspeed brother.” Jack laughed, rising from the desk and grabbing his friend’s shoulder for a quick squeeze. “Don’t fuck it up please?”

Robby nodded, smile unmoved, “I won’t. Now can you get your ugly mug out of my face please, I have work to do.”

“Yeah, yeah, have a good shift.”

Standing in front of his locker, the prospect of returning to a freezing, empty house for the next few days held no sense pleasure for Jack. What were the chances that if he wished hard enough, when the door clicked open you would be sitting on his couch in that ratty Penguins jersey you so adored, arms open and waiting for him? Slim, he decided. The usual low growl of the shift’s repressed hardship echoed through his head, waiting to eat away at him in the silence outside the ER. A quick trip to the roof, a few minutes in the freezing cold, would steady him enough to face it…and the absence of you.

The echo of your words seemed to bounce off the concrete walls of the stairs as he ascended.

What right do you have? Like it’s me that’s hurting you*?!*

He sped up; as if he’d ever been able to escape your voice. How was he going to explain his regret, his apology to you? Every last combination of words he tried felt shallow and inadequate. You deserved so much more than cello-taped sentences of shame.

Exploding out into sub-zero was euphoric. For just a moment, the world was in sharp focus, the blur of the past several hours evaporating into nothing but white. Pittsburgh peered down at him, the concrete offering its own disapproving look, the glass its own sting, the barren trees their own answer. Someone else was peering back at it, standing on the other side of the rail, leaning against the freezing metal.

That puffer.

You’d bought it on the very first day of Summer, parading it around the sweltering heat of a Pitt with aircon on the fritz.

“It cost me barely anything,” You told anyone who would listen, “Guess how much!”

You’d twisted back and forth, ensuring everyone got a good angle of the quality, nearly taking out Whittaker in your enthusiasm. Eventually you’d spun around to face Jack.

“Go on Cap, guess!”

He’d said something, a number plucked from obscurity. He couldn’t remember it now, or wether he’d been right. All he was thinking, now and then, was that it exactly matched the colour of your eyes.

He didn’t approach quietly, not wanting to startle you. Each crunch of snow felt like a choice being made, a door fast approaching, a step towards an abyss. You spoke without turning.

“I thought you’d come up here.”

Your words settled; a stone in a pool, ripples dancing out, brushing gently against his heart.

“I can leave if you want.” Jack said, hoping against all hope you would shake off the offer.

Your eyes turned to him, even brighter against the snow. You sighed, dusting off a patch of metal beside you and patting it firmly, “Lean with me.”

Jack only just managed to steady himself in his haste to join you, head nearly colliding with the steel as he ducked between the rails. For a moment you and him leant in breathless, anticipatory silence, looking out at the city that you had sweated and fought and cried for all night long.

It was you that first spoke into the void, “I’ve applied for the new Emergency Pedes Fellowship at PTMC, or have you forgotten that residents do have to find another job after the program ends?”

Jack’s eyes snapped to your face. He remembered Robby mentioning the opening position weeks and weeks ago, just in passing. But all the times you had mentioned your interest in Emergency Pedes medicine, every case you had jumped on to heal a little body, to calm a little mind, to soothe a little heart…he should have put the pieces together.

Without thinking he blurted, “You’ve been the only one ever any good with parents,” The internal wince at his messy attempt at soothing was immediate. Good with parents—what?

Your voice was small now, a tear soaked laugh just perceptible in it, “I didn’t want to tell you until I’d heard either way. I didn’t—” You did laugh now, “I didn’t want to disappoint you.”

Jack turned out to the city, the biting January air far, far easier to face. What an utter fool he was.

“I’m sorry.” He said, shaking his head. You didn’t say a word, just let the wind blow right through the both of you.

Jack returned his gaze to you, letting his eyes have their fill. Taking in each and every line and crease and feature. His favourite face in the whole world.

“I’m sorry,” Your name so soft and reverent on his lips, “It was incredibly…asshole of me.”

Your face scrunched at the words, rallying against a growing desire to laugh, “It was asshole indeed.”

The smallest of smiles. Your proximity. Your endless well of warmth and hope and joy. It made him want to be brave.

“I don’t quite understand it yet, but I feel very strongly about you. You are the first and last person I think about everyday. Yours is the face I picture when its all too much. Your voice is what I hear when I’m afraid. Your laugh is what stills me, calms me.”

Your mouth parted, just a bit, eyes becoming endless, swallowing him whole.

“When I thought that you might leave, perhaps that you would go overseas again, I was struck with fear I haven’t felt in a long, long time.” He took a long, stuttering breath.

“I don’t ever want to lose you.”

You surrendered, moving towards him, hand outstretched.

“It’s not an excuse,” he said, the words coming like a released river now, an outpouring of everything gathering dust within him, “I was selfish and I shouldn’t have done that, it’s not fair—”

Your arms enveloped him, face burying deep into his neck, hands curling into his hair. Everything you had wanted to do from the very first moment your eyes found his. He melted into your embrace, strong arms banding around your body, face pressing into the softest skin between your collarbone and shoulder. You cried into his scrubs, your relief and disbelief and joy bleeding out onto him—this man who had just given you a gift you had never even hoped could be yours.

Jack mumbled into your skin, “Baby, my baby.”

You pulled back, just enough to send your lips flying across his skin, every last bit you could reach. He accepted them gladly, so malleable and giving in your hands. Finally, finally, you found his mouth, crashing home with delight. For one precious eternity you simply remained pressed together, as if somehow endosymbiosis will begin. When you released each other, there was shared breath to relish in, and the feeling of foreheads connected, hands twined together. Could it have possibly been winter? Spring had come to a hospital rooftop in Pittsburgh. Something entirely new had bloomed. Jack gently released you to capture your face in his hands, with one thumb he carefully smoothed the skin between your brows, banishing for now any hint of a crease. There was no confusion, no frustration, no fear here.

“Are you working tonight?” You asked, words too full of smile to really parse.

“No, I’m off for the weekend,” His lips were in your hair.

You kissed him again, more desperate this time, seeking something more. His hands drifted south, smoothing over your shoulders, finding your hips, the tips of his fingers just grazing your ass.

Heart beating wildly, hot skin on hot skin, you took a dive, “Have breakfast with me.”

~~~~~~~~

There is fluff and hope for them in the sunrise people! Thank you for reading, these two will be back very very soon xo

previous | next

[rosemaryhoney27]

Danny Needs a Girlfriend Part 2

Dani floated away from that rooftop like she had just won the paranormal lottery.

Cassandra Cain had taken the picture.

Which meant there was now a non-zero chance that Dani’s ghosty dork of a brother would finally stop moping around and maybe—just maybe—find someone who could appreciate his weird, self-sacrificing, half-dead nonsense without demanding he be more, or less, or someone else entirely.

Her job wasn’t done, though. No, no. This was just Phase One: Introduction.

Meanwhile, back in Amity Park, Danny Phantom was being tackled through a wall by a sludge ghost named Goopinator Maximus (self-named, and tragically so). He blasted the ghost into a containment ring with an exhausted grunt and muttered, “I am way too single for this.”

Then his phone buzzed.

[1 New Message from: Dani 👻💅]

“So hypothetically… if a gorgeous martial arts goddess maybe saw a picture of you and didn’t immediately laugh, would you be mad at me?”

Danny stared. Blinked.

Then typed back:

“Dani, what did you do.”

Back in Gotham, Cass stared at the photo Dani had given her.

Danny, midair, holding a glowing thermos in one hand, his white hair wild and crackling with energy. He looked like a ghost and a star and a total goofball all at once.

There was something in his eyes, though—fierce, tired, good.

Cassandra didn’t trust people easily. Words were hard, and intentions even harder. But she could read bodies, and that picture told her a story.

A protector. A fighter. Someone who carried too much but stood tall anyway.

She slipped the photo into her coat and went on with her patrol, but her thoughts kept drifting back.

Two days later, Danny was hovering outside FentonWorks with a half-eaten burger when a shadow dropped silently onto the roof beside him.

He whirled. “Who—?”

Then paused.

“Wait. Are you… Black Bat?!”

Cass gave a small nod.

Danny blinked. “Did Gotham explode? Are you here to fight someone? Wait, is Batman here?!”

Cass said nothing.

Instead, she reached into her coat pocket and pulled out a slightly bent photo.

Danny recognized it instantly.

“…Oh no,” he muttered. “She didn’t.”

Cass tilted her head. “You’re real?”

“Uh. Yeah. Mostly,” Danny said, scratching the back of his neck. “I mean, I died once. Technically twice. But I got better?”

A pause.

Then Cass gave him the tiniest smile. “You make grilled cheese?”

Danny stared at her for a second. Then let out a bewildered, incredulous laugh.

“I do. It’s kind of a specialty.”

“Good,” she said, and sat cross-legged on the roof like it was the most normal thing in the world.

Danny hovered awkwardly for a second, then sat down beside her.

“…You wanna talk about how you met my sister?”

Cass shook her head.

“Fair.”

Another pause.

Danny offered her the other half of his burger.

She took it.

From the shadows below, Dani grinned.

Phase Two: Initiate Soft Boy Vibes. Commencing Operation: Ghost Bat Romance.

She could already smell wedding cake.

[tinysunshine]

ok ok ik we have daddy daryl but hear me out

a more like light hearted kind of sibling-like relationship with him. all that good protector daryl stuffs, but at the end of the day you two can make gross jokes and drink beer and .......arent afraid to get a little rough with eachother ;;3

i see this as such an easy way to get daryl to manhandle u around under the guise of 'omggggg guys hes like a brother to me' to everyne else

or am i weird

“you gunna call it?” daryl asks, and you can’t see his face, because, well - he’s got his chest pressed to your back and his arm around your neck, bicep in your face. but you can tell he’s smirking. he’s literally choking you out, holding you in such a tight headlock that you really do want to call mercy just to get a full breath of air, but you’re not going to give him the satisfaction.

you make a noise that tells him no, and he chuckles, slightly loosening his grip. and when he does, because you’re so mad that he is so much stronger than you, you bite into his bicep and he lets go of you so fast, you almost drop to the ground.

victory, then? you’ll take it.

“goddamn,” daryl mutters, scoffing as he backs away from you. “fuck is wrong with you?”

you just huff, walking back to the rest of the camp. daryl follows you, but as he makes his way next to you, he gives you another shove. it’s a light shove, but it nearly sends you toppling over, because it’s unexpected.

you love to play rough with daryl, to prove that you can handle it, that you’re strong, just like him - but the truth is, he’s so much stronger than you that it’s not even fair. fucking daryl and his stupid strong arms. you’ve never even beat him in an arm wrestling match, and you sort of just wish he’d let you win sometimes.

you make it back to camp, bickering with daryl, and the group parts like the red fucking sea. people hate being around you and daryl when you get into these play fighting moods, mostly - because it’s annoying to listen to the bickering, and also because they don’t want to see you get your ass kicked every fucking time.

“how is this fun for you?” maggie asked you one day, after she saw daryl putting you over his shoulder and threatening to throw you into the river until you let go of the last beer he found on a run. in reply to maggie, you just shrugged, sipped from you water bottle and told her the honest truth. “daryl’s a really good friend. sorta makes me feel like i have a brother or something, you know? it’s just fun to fuck around.”

you don’t tell her that you drip in your panties every time daryl shoves you against a tree and holds your hands behind your back while you squirm, call out mercy because the bark hurts your chest and cheek. you don’t tell her, that whenever daryl puts you in a chokehold, that you smell his musk and feel his strength - and you feel his cock, hard in his pants, pressed against you.

no. you don’t tell her that. she wouldn’t understand.

the next day, daryl starts his shit up again. you’re just walking with the rest of the group, when daryl comes up behind you and pulls your scrunchy out of your hair. it’s not a big deal, the pony tail thing, but it’s annoying, and you stop walking and stomp your foot and even when daryl laughs and jogs up ahead of you, you follow him and shove him as hard as you can.

“what?” daryl asks, while the rest of the group pretends like you both don’t exist. they literally just keep walking, ignoring the scene playing out right in front of their eyes. “you said you wanted to know what it’d be like to have a brother. jus’ doin’ what you asked,” he says in defense, but you just huff. there’s a twinkle in his eyes when he says it, a knowing smirk - and your entire body feels hot and electric.

even so, you plan revenge when the group finds somewhere to sleep later that day. daryl’s siting on a rock, and when he takes a sip of water, you spring up behind him and shove it out of his hand. rick, sitting beside him, looks at you with a poker face and then a sigh, getting up and shaking his head while you smile victoriously.

it’s okay though. because daryl throws the plastic bottle at you as you walk away, and you give daryl the rest of your water. and when you go down to the river to wash up, he pushes you in the water. tells you that you needed to wash your clothes, anyway.

you can’t even be mad. you see the way he looked at your tits in your wet t-shirt.

but today, you started it.

“give it to me,” daryl barks, still playful, but there’s something that’s actually a little pissed in his tone. it’s probably because you took the granola bar he found on a run that he’s been bragging about all day, but it’s not like you’re really going to eat it.

you hold the bar above your head, trying to keep it out of his reach, but it doesn’t actually do anything. daryl is taller than you, and his reach is longer than yours, but when he reaches above your head he doesn’t grab the bar.

no, he pins your wrist to the tree you’re up against, and the granola bar falls from your hand, onto the ground. “daryl,” you say, like you’re about to apologize, but he just shakes his head.

“yer fuckin’ crazy. was gonna share it with you, if you asked nicely,” he says, and you know that’s true. daryl and you are close, and you share everything, just like the rest of the group does. you’re all family.

“just a joke,” you tell him, because everything is just a joke with the two of you. you push and push, and daryl pushes you, and you touch each other and get physical under the guise that this is what friends do. this is what siblings do. whatever is going on between the two of you is fun and platonic.

except: it’s not. not one bit. you know this, from the feeling of your achey core now that daryl’s got you pressed up against a tree, and daryl knows this because his knee is slipping between your thighs, and you’re wearing a skirt, and -

oh.

his grip on your wrists tighten.

“let me go,” you say softly, so half assed, because there’s no use in lying or pretending. you don’t really want him to let go. daryl knows what you want. you know what daryl wants - you see it pushing against the zippered part of his pants right now.

“no,” is all he replies with, moving his knee just enough to make you whine. the material of your panties is thin, and it’s been so long. so, so long since you last had a chance to touch yourself. since you last got fucked.

“this isn’t what brothers do to their sisters,” you tease, but your breath is hitched and - it’s a lot. daryl nods, leans in and presses his forehead against yours. “no, ‘s not,” he says back.

he kisses you. and then -

he ends up fucking you right there against the tree, keeping your arms above your head, and when you cum - when you ask him to go harder, deeper, when he finally lets go of your wrists and holds you up against the tree, you cry out mercy while you cum all over his cock.

just seemed fitting.

back at camp, you share the granola bar. seated on an old log, your hair all messed up, daryl and you bumping shoulders because you just can’t stop touching.

rosita walks up to you, frowns, hand on her hip as she looks between the two of you.

“you okay?” she questions, before glaring at daryl. “you’re too rough with her, dixon. she’s half your size, you shouldn’t,” but daryl cuts her off with a wave of his hand.

daryl seems smug. you blush, wondering how rough you must look if rosita felt the need to say something.

daryl easies her worries, throws an arm around your shoulders and fucks up your already messy hair by rubbing the top of your head all roughly. you whine.

“she’s fine,” he assures, voice all calm. casual. “she knows what she’s doing. you should’ve heard her earlier, calling out for mercy.”

credit to: @nastydogpublishingco for the bones of this idea and the sexy details <3

[cheftsunoda]

heal your heart—cl16

part three (very wordy AGAIN)

smau + real life

carlos sainz x !sister singer reader

charles leclerc x sainz reader

catalina sainz has it all— she is a successful grammy award winning artist, her brother is a well known formula 1 driver, she has an amazing family and wonderful friends. she was also blessed with a fiance and a beautiful baby boy.. she had everything.. until she didn't. her fiance disappears and takes her son with him. catalina watches as her world crumbles...who will be there to help pick up the pieces?

fc : kali uchis

⚠️ATTENTION : TRIGGER WARNING! mentions of depression, abuse, kidnapping. ⚠️

part one here

part two here

part four here

—

catluvsyou

liked by charles_leclerc, lando, iamrebeccad & 4,485,493 others.

catluvsyou : healing is hard- especially when part of you still feels torn open. i will not answer any questions at this time but i really appreciate all the support and love i have been shown. i also need to say the biggest thank you to my friends and family who have loved me through some of the worst parts.

username00 : no bc the image of her crying BROKE ME but then i saw charles on the piano and my heart said okay maybe there’s hope

usernameee : this is grief. this is survival. this is poetry. this is also charles leclerc and i am not okay about it

username20 : the mirror selfies are all taken in charles' house

lilymhe : the prettiest and strongest angel. we got you.

liked by author

username7 : slide one made me cry, slide four made me scream, slide six made me sob. give this woman a hug and a publishing deal.

username10 : her crying photo??? that wasn’t a post. that was a plea. and i hear her. i see her. i’m crying at work.

iamrebeccad : love you to the moon and back- strongest person i know.

liked by author

username0 : this is less “photo dump” and more “emotionally raw scrapbook entry with a dash of piano boy” and i’m HERE for it

username5 : she gave us heartbreak, healing, piano romance, AND mountain girl rebirth??? a saga. a life story. a manifesto.

charles_leclerc : tu possèdes une force incroyable. je prendrai toujours soin de toi.

liked by author

username000 : quick some french person tell me what he said PLS

username20 : you possess an incredible strength. i will always care for you

username000: ardfkjalmffsfajskhd

username15 : OMG

lewishamilton : Sending love and strength. Healing isn’t linear—be kind to yourself.

liked by author

lando : Love you always, bug. You are so so strong.

liked by author

pierregasly : Kika and I will be over sometime today with gifts:)

liked by author

kikagomes : and CAKE!!

liked by author

carmenmmundt : True strength looks like this. You’re incredible. Please take care of yourself.

liked by author

oscarpiastri : Quiet strength is the loudest kind. Rooting for you always.

liked by author

alexalbon : The strongest ever. I have your back. Always.

liked by author

—

twitter!

f1gossipgirls : Catalina Sainz has broken her silence...sort of. The popstar and sister to Williams driver Carlos Sainz posted a deeply personal “healing dump” to Instagram this morning, featuring tearful selfies, peaceful scenery, and what fans are 99% sure is CHARLES LECLERC at a piano in slide four.

Catalina wrote, "healing is hard- especially when part of you still feels torn open. i will not answer any questions at this time but i really appreciate all the support and love i have been shown. i also need to say the biggest thank you to my friends and family who have loved me through some of the worst parts."

Many WAGS and members of the F1 grid were in the comments including none other than Charles Leclerc himself, writing, "you possess an incredible strength. i will always care for you" in French.

Let us know your thoughts!

username00 : honestly catalina is out here surviving a trauma and all some of y’all can do is zoom in on wrists and watches… (but also it’s definitely charles)

username10 : why does it feel like she just posted the first chapter of a novel i’m already deeply invested in

username5 : healing is hard, yes, but healing with leclerc at your piano and sainz threatening international violence on your behalf??? couldn’t be me but i deeply admire

username7 : this entire season is just trauma, pianos, and deeply repressed European emotions. 10/10 would watch again.

usernameee : just say the word, catalina. we will ruin him on the timeline in 12 minutes flat.

username000 : no interaction from carlos at ALL that man is busy destroying someone

—

It had been a few days since the race. Charles and I were back at his in Monaco. He had been an absolute saint. He held me when I needed it, gave me space when needed, wrote and produced songs with me to get everything out, sat there and ate every meal with me so he knew I ate. I don't know if I could have made it these last few days without him. I have been so anxious to hear from Carlos and hopeful to see my son soon. I knew Carlos would not leave without him. He was - to say the least- determined. Charles insisted on getting me out of the house and into some nature today. Kika and Pierre were coming over tonight and while I am excited to see them- I do not know if I am in the best spot for guests right now. My PR team had forced me to post — at least making it known that I was alive…even though I didn’t feel like it. I sighed heavily staring at the spot in bed where Charles had just been. He left to get us some breakfast and said he 'got something special for me.' I throw myself out of the bed and head towards the bathroom. I turn on the shower and strip off Charles' T-Shirt and throw my hair up in a ponytail. Once I am out I do my bare minimum skin care and throw on one of his hoodies and some leggings. I go out and sit in the living room glancing out at the Marina. I hear a jingle of keys in the door and it opens and closes. Charles stood with a smile with two coffees in his hands.

"There's that beautiful face." He said with a mischievous grin on his face.

I narrow my eyes. “What did you do?”

“Nothing,” he says, far too quickly.

“Charles.”

He walks toward me, setting the coffee down on the table. “Okay, but in my defense—he was very persuasive.”

Before I can ask who, he unzips the front pocket of his jacket… and out pops the tiniest dachshund I have ever seen.

A literal puppy. A wriggling, sleepy-eyed, cinnamon roll of a dachshund. His ears are floppy. His paws are too big. His tail does a lazy little wag, like he’s still deciding how he feels about this whole waking up thing.

I stare at them both.

“You brought home… a dog. In your coat.”

Charles shrugs. “Technically he brought me home. Found him outside the café. No collar. No chip. The barista said he’d been sleeping under a chair for hours. And I—” he pauses, eyes flicking to mine—“I didn’t want you to wake up to silence again.”

My chest caves a little.

The puppy whines, wiggling his way down from Charles’ arms onto the couch beside me like he’s always belonged here. He sniffs my leg, yawns dramatically, then curls up right against my thigh. I run a shaking hand over his tiny head.

“I don’t even know how to take care of myself right now,” I whisper.

“I know,” Charles says quietly. “But I am here to take care of both of you."

I swallow the lump in my throat. The puppy lets out a tiny snore. Charles hands me my coffee like it’s the most normal morning in the world. And somehow—despite everything—I smile.

—

Kika is sitting cross-legged on the kitchen island, stealing olives straight from the dish while Pierre argues with Charles (in french) about the “correct” way to make garlic prawns. There’s music playing — something soft and jazzy — and for the first time in what feels like centuries, I’m laughing without guilt. It’s warm here. The air smells like garlic and lemon and something sweet baking in the oven. Kika’s telling me a ridiculous story about an afterparty in Monaco and miming Lando’s drunk dance moves when Charles comes up behind me and rests his hand at the small of my back. Just a small gesture. But it grounds me. Leo — now inseparable from me — is snuggled in a pile of blankets at my feet, snoring softly. I don’t realize my phone is ringing until Kika gently nudges my arm.

“It’s buzzing, babe.”

I glance at the screen, expecting another message from Rebecca or maybe Arthur sending a meme he shouldn’t. But it’s not.

It’s Carlos. My heart stumbles. I freeze. Everything else — the wine, the laughter, the lightness — evaporates in a second.

Charles notices immediately. He steps closer. “Do you want me to—?”

I shake my head and answer, walking quietly toward the balcony and sliding the door closed behind me.

“Carlos?” My voice cracks just on his name.

His breath is shaky through the line.

“Cat,” he says, and his voice is trembling, a little breathless. “You need to get on a flight. Now. Come to Madrid. Come to the house.”

“What—?”

He cuts me off.

“It’s him,” Carlos says, and I can hear the tears in his voice. “They found Mateo. He’s safe. He’s safe, Catalina. He’s coming home.”

The world tilts. My knees go out from under me and I grab the balcony railing to keep from falling.

“He’s—?”

“Alive. Okay. Scared. But okay.”

I’m already moving. Back through the door. Charles is on his feet before I even say a word, his eyes locked on mine.

“I have to go,” I breathe, my chest barely able to contain the sound. “Carlos—Mateo—he’s been found. I need to get to Madrid. Now.”

Charles doesn’t blink. Doesn’t hesitate. “I’ll get a jet. Come on.”

Kika gasps behind me, tears already spilling. Pierre quietly steps in to grab my coat and my purse. I gently pick up Leo and put him in my purse, his little face sticking out the top. Kika and Pierre both hug me and press kisses to my cheeks.

"Go get your boy." She said with a smile on her face and tears in her eyes.

Everything is a blur. But underneath the shaking, the panic, the fear, there’s something I haven’t felt in so long I barely recognize it. Hope.

—

The plane is humming softly beneath us. Everything outside the window is dark ink black, velvet sky. The stars feel too far away tonight. Charles is sitting beside me, his hand covering mine. He hasn’t let go since the car ride to the airport. His thumb moves in small, slow circles over my knuckles. I don’t think he even knows he’s doing it. I’ve barely spoken since the call. My body is still moving, but my heart is somewhere else—somewhere back in Madrid, reaching for my son with every breath. He’s alive. I keep repeating it in my head like a prayer. He’s alive. He’s alive. Mateo is alive. I don’t realize I’m crying again until Charles reaches up and wipes my cheek gently with the sleeve of his hoodie. His eyes are soft when they meet mine, and there’s no pity there—just presence. Just him.

“You’re doing so well,” he whispers.

“I feel like I’m going to fall apart.”

“If you do,” he says, “I’ll be here to help put the pieces back together.”

I look at him then, really look. His hair is messy from the wind. He didn’t pack anything — just came with me, like it was never even a question. Like his place was beside me, without asking for anything in return. My chest tightens.

“Charles?”

He turns toward me, brow furrowing gently. “Yes?”

I hesitate. The words scrape on the way out.

“Will you stay?” I whisper. “Not just for the flight. I mean… once we’re there. After I see Mateo. After the storm. Will you still be there?”

His hand moves to cup the side of my face, thumb brushing just under my eye.

“There’s nowhere else I want to be,” he says softly. “As long as you’ll have me, I’ll stay.”

And something in me — something hard and scared and bracing for impact — unclenches. I lean into his hand. And for the first time since everything shattered, I believe I might be able to feel whole again. Not today. Not tomorrow. But maybe someday. And maybe with him.

—

The sky is bleeding pale pink and gold as the car rolls to a stop in front of my parents’ house. I haven’t slept. I don’t think I’ve even blinked since the call. My hands won’t stop shaking. Charles hasn’t let go of me once. Not in the car. Not at the airport. Not even now, as Carlos steps out from the front porch and rushes toward us. His face is worn, sleepless. But there’s something else in his eyes. Something like awe. He pulls open the car door and helps me to my feet before pulling me into a hug.

“They’re inside,” he says, and I barely register the they until he adds: “Mamá, Papá… and Mateo. He’s awake. He’s been looking around for you.”

The world tilts beneath my feet.

Charles tightens his grip on my hand. “Do you want me to come with you?”

I nod. I can’t say the word. My chest is too full. My throat too raw. The front door opens, and we step into the hallway I haven’t walked through in over a year. Everything smells like coffee and lemon soap. Like comfort. Like a memory I didn’t trust myself to hope for again. Then I hear it. A soft babble. A whimper. The shuffle of tiny feet on hardwood. And I run. Through the hallway, around the corner — and there, standing on unsure little legs, clinging to the coffee table, is my son. Mateo. His curls are longer, wilder. His cheeks round and flushed. He’s holding the stuffed fox he never used to sleep without. There’s a little bruise on his knee. A scratch above his eyebrow. But he’s standing. Breathing. Alive. He looks up, blinking at me with those deep, dark eyes that are unmistakably mine. And then—

“Mama?”

The tiniest, hoarsest whisper.

I collapse to my knees as the sob shreds out of me. “Hi, baby,” I gasp. “Hi, my sweet boy. Mama’s here. I’m here.”

He stumbles toward me and throws his little arms around my neck. I cradle him to my chest, my hand splayed over his back, my lips pressed to every inch of his skin I can reach — his hair, his forehead, his cheek, his tiny shoulder. His weight in my arms feels like resurrection. Charles kneels quietly beside us. I feel his hand at my back — not trying to share the moment, not intruding. Just grounding me. Holding me in case I fall apart. Mateo lifts his head and looks at Charles, blinking curiously. Then, without hesitation, he reaches one pudgy hand out and gently touches Charles’ cheek. My breath hitches.

Charles smiles, soft. “Bonjour, petit,” he whispers.

Mateo giggles. Just once. A perfect, bright little sound. And in that moment — with my son safe in my arms and Charles beside me — I finally let myself believe that maybe, just maybe, we’re going to be okay.

—

The house is still now. The kind of still that only comes after a storm has passed. That breathless hush where no one dares move too quickly in case it all disappears again. Mateo is tucked into my chest, warm and heavy with sleep, his breath soft against my neck. I’m sitting in the old rocking chair in my childhood bedroom, the same one Mamá used to rock Carlos and me in when we were sick or scared. Charles is stretched out on the floor nearby, one arm tucked under his head, watching us. The lamp beside me casts a golden halo over him. His curls are slightly tousled, his eyes soft and endlessly patient.

“He used to fall asleep like this every night,” I whisper. “After a bottle, I’d hold him just like this until his little fingers relaxed.”

Charles doesn’t say anything right away. Just watches me with that quiet reverence I’ve come to rely on more than I care to admit.

“You’re amazing, you know,” he finally says.

I scoff under my breath, brushing Mateo’s hair back. “I don’t feel amazing. I feel broken. Guilty. Like I should’ve known something was wrong. Like I should’ve stopped it before—”

“Catalina.” His voice is firm but gentle. “You did the best you could with what you knew. And now you’re doing even more. You’re here. He’s safe. Because of you.”

I swallow hard. “I don’t know how to fix all the damage.”

“Start small,” he says. “Start with tonight. With holding him. With letting yourself be held too, when you need it.”

I meet his eyes. “Is that an offer?”

He smiles, slow and sure. “Always.”

—

The hallway creaks under my bare feet as I make my way to the kitchen. The house is dark except for the low hum of the fridge and the soft clink of a spoon against a mug. Mamá is sitting at the table. Papá stands behind her, one hand on her shoulder. They both look up when I step in. My mother’s eyes shine, and before I can say anything, she’s on her feet, wrapping me in the kind of hug only a mother can give. One that forgives and aches and tries to make up for lost time all at once.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “For keeping so much from you.”

She pulls back and holds my face between her hands. “No, mi amor. I’m sorry. That you felt like you had to.”

Papá steps forward and places a hand on my back. “Why didn’t you tell us, Cat?"

“I didn’t know how,” I admit. “I didn’t want you to see how bad it had gotten. I didn’t want Carlos to explode. I didn’t want you to worry… or to feel like I’d failed.”

My mother’s lip trembles. “You could never be a failure to us.”

We sit down together. They don’t press. They don’t ask for details. They just listen as I start to speak — slowly, haltingly — about the fear, the control, the way it all snuck up on me until I barely recognized myself.

“I lost myself in that house,” I say, voice hoarse. “I didn’t even realize how much until he was gone. Until Mateo was gone.”

“You didn’t lose yourself,” Papá says. “You were surviving. And now you’re reclaiming your life.”

“And you’re not alone anymore,” Mamá adds softly.

—

The kitchen is bathed in gold light. My mother is at the stove, humming. Carlos is seated at the table, hair a mess, cradling a mug like it’s the only thing keeping him upright. And there, in the middle of it all, is Charles — barefoot, wearing one of Carlos’ old sweatshirts, balancing Mateo’s sippy cup in one hand and slicing a banana with the other.

“What,” I murmur, completely frozen in the doorway, “is happening?”

Charles grins. “He woke up. I offered to make him breakfast. He accepted. On the condition I provide ‘nana’ and 'toons'.”

Carlos snorts. “They’re best friends now. Sorry, Cat. You’ve been replaced.”

Charles leans down and wipes a bit of mashed banana from Mateo’s cheek. “He takes after you, I think. Big eyes. Stubborn. Curious about literally everything. Tried to eat my shoelace earlier.”

I walk over slowly, cautiously, like I don’t want to scare the moment away. But Mateo turns the second he senses me, arms up, babbling something in his own tiny language.

“Hey, baby,” I whisper, scooping him into my arms. “Did you make a new friend?”

He twists in my arms and reaches for Charles again — one chubby hand landing on Charles’ cheek. Charles leans into it like it’s the most natural thing in the world. My chest cracks open in the best possible way.

Mamá places a plate of eggs and toast in front of me. “Eat, mija. You look like a ghost.”

“I feel like one,” I admit. “But… less haunted than yesterday.”

Mateo babbles something and points to Charles. “Sha!”

Carlos raises an eyebrow. “Was that his name?”

Charles beams. “I’ll take it.”

I watch them — my brother, my mother, my son, and this man who somehow walked into the rubble of my life and just... started building with me. Mateo wiggles down from my lap and toddles unsteadily back toward Charles, arms up again. And Charles — without hesitation — lifts him with a soft “bonjour, mon petit,” and settles him on his hip. Mateo giggles. Charles grins. I press my hand to my chest and try to hold in everything I feel. Love. Gratitude. Maybe even the tiniest thread of peace.

“I think he likes you,” I say, voice uneven.

Charles looks up, eyes warm. “Yeah? I like him too.”

And just like that, for the first time in a long time, breakfast tastes like more than just survival. It tastes like coming home.

—

catluvsyou

liked by lando, charles_leclerc, carlossainz55 & 8,475,202 others.

catluvsyou : after weeks of pain and uncertainty, my heart is finally whole again. mateo is back where he belongs — safe, loved, and surrounded by family. thank you to everyone who stood by us through this fight. healing is still a journey, but today, we begin a new chapter together. my new single called 'ilysmih' is out now- for my whole heart- mateo. mommy loves you always.

—

username00 : charles and MATEO omg omg

usernameee : so happy for you, catalina. you deserve all the happiness and more.

liked by author

username10 : the song is literally so raw and emotional- i am sobbing on the subway rn

liked by author

username20 : 'my baby's really here' has me sobbing like a bitch.

username15 : charles wins stepdad of the century

liked by author

username00 : omg she liked

arthur_leclerc : So happy for you, Cat. I'd say I'm in the running for best uncle.

liked by author

lando : you bribed him

liked by author

georgerussell63 : Your strength, Catalina, is a reminder to us all that no matter the obstacles, love and resilience always prevail. Mateo’s safe with you, and that’s what truly matters. Proud of you and the beautiful song...it’s from the heart.

liked by author

kikagomes : so happy for you beautiful mama. give mateo a kiss from aunt keeks

liked by author

lando : So happy for you, Bug. Your strength is absolutely incredible. Mateo was blessed with the best mum on the planet.

liked by author

charles_leclerc : Watching you be a mother and regain all your light has been one of the best experiences of my life. I have all the love in the world for you and Mateo. The song is beyond beautiful and I am so honored to have been involved in the process.

liked by author

username15 : omg charles helped make ilysmih

sebastianvettel : True courage is being vulnerable in the face of hardship. Catalina, your story reminds us all to keep fighting for what matters most. Mateo has a warrior mom, and I’m proud to see your strength.

liked by author

carlossainz55 : You were born to be a mother and I am so glad to see you so happy again. Love you always.

liked by author

—

Today was the day. I had to face him again. To fight for our son. I was nervous but I had Charles and Carlos...and the whole grid there to support me. The hallway outside the courtroom smells sterile, like polished tile and nerves. My heels echo on the floor as I walk, heart pounding. Every step forward feels like it's being taken in someone else’s shoes — someone stronger, someone unshakeable. But they’re mine. So is the suit I’m wearing. So is the fire in my chest. So is the little boy at the center of it all — asleep in my mother’s arms two rooms away, blissfully unaware of the war being waged in his name. Charles walks beside me, hand warm at my lower back, his quiet presence grounding me in ways I still don’t know how to put into words. He hasn’t left my side in months. Not when the lawyers called. Not during the mediation sessions. Not after the nightmares that woke me up sobbing at 3AM. And not today.

The press is outside — of course they are. The whispers of “star studded custody battle” had turned this into a media frenzy. But they can’t get in. The judge issued a strict order. No cameras. No recording. Just us. Just the truth. As we approach the courtroom doors, I hear voices ahead — and then I see them. Carlos. Standing tall, jaw tight, eyes locked ahead like he’s walking onto the grid. Rebecca beside him, holding his hand. Lando leans against the wall across from them, wearing a suit and looking completely out of place but determined nonetheless. And behind them — I almost laugh — George, Alex, Pierre, Kika, Lewis and even Arthur. Half the grid is here. For me. The moment I appear, they all straighten up like a switch was flipped.

Carlos walks over and pulls me into a hug — quick, fierce, protective. “You’ve got this, Cat.”

I nod, swallowing the lump in my throat.

“Don’t let that asshole rattle you,” Lando mutters. “We’ll all be right there. He’s not gonna touch you.”

I glance at Charles, who meets my gaze with steady, unwavering loyalty. “I’m proud of you,” he whispers.

The bailiff calls us in.

—

It’s colder in here. The wood-panelled walls are imposing. The judge — a stern woman with grey hair and glasses that seem to see through souls — gives no greeting. Only a nod. I sit at the petitioner’s table. My lawyer, a calm but steely woman named Lucia, opens her folder. Across from us, he sits in a dark suit, flanked by his attorney. He doesn’t look at me. Good. I don’t want him to. The first hour is procedural. Papers submitted. Timelines reviewed. The judge flips through documents as if they don’t hold the pieces of my life. And then it begins.

Lucia rises. “Your honor, we will demonstrate that the respondent’s actions — namely, removing the child without the petitioner’s consent and crossing international borders — constitute not only a violation of custody but a potential endangerment. We will also present evidence of emotional and physical abuse and coercive control throughout the relationship.”

I grip the edge of the table. Charles’s hand drops to my knee beneath the table. A silent promise—I’m here. The other side protests. Paints me as unstable. Mentions “emotional distress” and “a demanding career.” They try to twist my own trauma into a weapon against me. But then Lucia brings up the messages. The controlling texts. The surveillance. The bank accounts I was locked out of. The judge’s brow furrows. And then I take the stand. I took a deep breath, feeling the cold weight of the courtroom walls around me. As I stood before the judge, my heart pounded in my chest like a race engine — fast, erratic, out of control. But I had to steady myself. For Mateo. For truth.

“I want to speak honestly,” I said, voice trembling but clear. “Because for too long, the truth has been buried.”

"The first time he raised his voice — just a sharp word over something small. I remember the shock, the way my breath caught in my throat, the sudden coldness creeping up my spine. I wanted to believe it was a one-time thing. But it wasn’t."

The judge nodded silently, and I pushed on.

“At first, he was loving. Protective. The kind of partner I thought would always keep me safe.” My throat tightened. “But then the control began. Phone calls monitored. Friends disappearing from my life. Little freedoms taken away, bit by bit. He had started to get more physical with me. Wouldn't take no for an answer."

"I recall sitting alone in a dim hotel room after a long day in LA, my phone buzzing silently with messages I couldn’t answer. The loneliness was suffocating. I felt like I could not even do the one thing I loved anymore, I was losing myself. A part of me was dying."

In the courtroom, I caught Carlos’s eye — his jaw clenched, fists tightened around the bench. Charles sat beside him, quietly supportive but with a fierce protectiveness radiating from his posture.

“I was afraid to sing,” I said, voice cracking. “Music was my breath, but it became my cage. Every lyric I wrote was scrutinized. I felt trapped in my own story.”

"A night in our home, Mateo asleep in his crib, and me crying in the dark. The weight of silence was unbearable. I wanted to scream but had no voice."

The room murmured softly, some eyes glistening with tears. Lando shifted in his seat, visibly tense. I felt their silent strength.

“The worst day was when I came home from a trip and found him gone. Mateo was gone.” I swallowed hard, tears threatening to spill. “A note on the kitchen counter: ‘I don't want this anymore. I don't want you' No explanation. No warning.”

I looked at the judge, the weight of those words hanging heavy in the air.

“That moment shattered me. I was lost in fear for Mateo’s safety — for my own.”

The judge leaned forward, eyes intent.

“I am here to fight. Not just for custody, but for healing. For our future. Mateo deserves that.”

My voice cracks on the last sentence. I looked over at Charles — his eyes glimmered with unshed tears and fierce determination. There’s a silence so heavy I can barely breathe.

Lucia finishes with, “Catalina Sainz is not only a devoted mother, she is a survivor. And she is asking this court to protect the only person that matters now: her son.”

—

The judge calls a short recess before ruling. I step outside the courtroom and lean against the wall, heart racing. Charles follows, wraps his arms around me from behind, pressing a kiss to the side of my head.

“You were unbelievable,” he whispers. “So brave.”

“I don’t feel brave.”

“You don’t have to. You just have to keep going. You’re almost there.”

Carlos joins us, standing in front of me, arms crossed. “No matter what happens, we fight. We keep fighting until Mateo is safe with you permanently.”

I nod. The tears finally come, slow and quiet. Inside, the judge returns. We go back in. She rules in my favor. Full custody. I hear it. I feel it. But it doesn’t truly sink in until I walk back out and see Charles standing there, and I say — “We won.” And he doesn’t say anything. Just pulls me into his arms and holds me like the world has finally stopped spinning.

—

The three of my main protectors stood outside waiting for (ex name) to show. Carlos’s jaw was clenched so tight I thought it might snap. Charles stood a step behind him, his usually calm demeanor taut, eyes sharp as daggers. Lando hovered nearby, fists clenched, ready to step in if things escalated.

He approached them with a smug grin. He didn’t look intimidated, which only stoked the fire burning in Carlos’s chest.

Carlos’s voice was low but cutting. “You think you can just take him? Take Mateo without a word and expect no consequences?”

He shrugged, a cold smile twitching at his lips. “I did what I had to do. She was not around enough. Maybe I’m the better parent.”

Charles stepped forward, voice calm but laced with warning. “You’re wrong. This isn’t about competition — it’s about what’s best for Mateo. And that means respecting Catalina.”

"Oh suddenly you know her? Just because you fuck her?" He said with a smirk taunting Charles. Charles balled his fists. Carlos rested a hand on his shoulder.

"Hit me, pretty boy. See what happens." He irked on.

Lando’s tone was sharper, unmistakably protective. “You're fucking with the wrong family, asshole. Don't push me."

His smile faded, replaced by something colder — calculating. “Families fall apart. Especially when secrets come out.”

Carlos’s eyes darkened. “Watch your mouth.”

He sneered. “I’m just telling the truth.”

Charles’s fist clenched at his side, but he held his ground. “Well, we saw what the court said. She is clearly the more fit parent, considering she didn't kidnap him. Hell, maybe if you didn't you'd still be allowed to see him."

For a moment, no one moved. The tension hung thick, like a storm ready to break.

Then he turned on his heel, voice cold. “This isn’t over.”

Charles placed a steadying hand on Carlos’s shoulder. Lando stayed close, eyes never leaving my ex’s retreating back.

—

The house was filled with laughter, the kind of warmth that felt like a fragile promise of better days. Charles was pouring champagne, Carlos was cracking jokes, and Lando was making Mateo giggle with silly faces. I sat there, surrounded by people who felt like family — a rare moment of peace after everything. My new single played softly in the background, a bittersweet soundtrack to the night. For a moment, I let myself breathe. Then my phone buzzed on the table. I glanced down — incoming call.

“Excuse me,” I said quietly, standing up and stepping outside onto the cool night air. The sounds inside faded behind me.

I pressed the phone to my ear. “Hello?”

The voice was low, urgent. “Catalina… we need to talk.”

I hesitated. “I’m with people. Can it wait?”

“No. It can’t,” the voice insisted. My chest tightened.

Before I could pull away, a rough hand grabbed my arm, yanking me back into the shadows.

“Let me go!” I gasped, struggling.

“Quiet,” he hissed in my ear. “We’re not done.”

Panic surged through me, freezing me for a split second before fear turned into fight. But I was caught — trapped by the man whose presence I never wanted again. I gripped my phone and tried to dial Charles. He threw my phone to the ground and I heard it crunch. Inside the house, I could only imagine the sudden silence, the questions, the worry growing like wildfire. I wanted to scream, to run, to disappear. Instead, I was dragged back into a nightmare I thought I’d escaped. And suddenly, everything was at risk again.

—

p3 complete:)))))

yall thought id just give you an easy happy ending???

my bad

p4 is done so it will be published soon:)

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[alvfr]

Karma - Part 1

Masterlist

paring: andrew pope cody/stripper!reader tags: 18+, starts in s1, erectile dysfunction, lap-dances, second-hand embarrassment, slow burn, implied age gap, no use of y/n. reader has fake names, a large family, and a past (that is catching up). no smut for this part. wc: 7.5k an: this is basically my coping mechanism when rewatching animal kingdom and wanting pope to have a friend/get a happy ending. idk, this concept has probably been done before, but I'm having fun with it so...

summary: Who says you can't meet the love of your life in a strip club dressing room after his brother paid another girl a thousand bucks to wish him a happy birthday? Okay, so he's a bit strange and he might be stalking you and his mother is terrifying and you're really just trying to make enough money for rent and tuition without getting into any kind of trouble, but on the bright side, at least he's not a cop.

Karma - Part 1 - [AO3 LINK]

“…I’m not doing it, the guy creeps me out…”

A strip club was no place for privacy, and the dressing room even less so with half a dozen girls in various stages of undress crammed in at any given time. Some doing a costume change, some taking a snack break, and others sipping, smoking or snorting whatever they could to get enough of a buzz to make it bearable to go back outside. It reeked of hairspray, perfume and weed, with a heavy layer of face powder floating in the air like a built-in grain filter. One girl sat by the sink, blatantly touching up her bikini line, while another tried to pop a pimple on yet another girl’s butt cheek. There were no secrets in a strip club dressing room and it was probably the worst place for private conversations. 

Bless Jasmine’s heart, though, she was still trying. Speaking in hushed tones behind the heavy velvet curtain that separated the prep area from the bathrooms. There used to be a partition wall, but the manager never got around to replace it after some girls tore it down during a fight. At least that’s what Pepper told you when she gave you the tour of the backstage area a few weeks ago.

“…just call security and…”

“…bad business, his brother’s a regular and…”

You tried to focus on fixing your makeup — you weren’t trying to eavesdrop, but not even the muffled tunes from the stage could drown out the intense whispers from Jasmine and Trixie. What was Jasmine even doing in here? A statuesque sultry redhead, she was one of the more popular girls in the club. And one of the lucky few who had their own private dressing rooms.

“…do me a favor and…”

“No way. No! I can’t, I got one of my regulars coming in…”

The curtain tore aside, and you tore your gaze back to the mirror, staring at your own reflection like your life depended on it. You had only been here a few weeks and did not have the time or energy to make enemies, especially not now. Trixie, with a jet-black wig and already in her six-inch-heels, strode back to her spot that was next to yours and shook her head while Jasmine was close on her heel.

Jasmine clutched her short silk dressing gown with a white-knuckled fist. “Then what the hell am I supposed to do?”

“Either give him the time of his life, give the money back,” Trixie suggested as she leaned towards the mirror to put on more plum lipstick, and Jasmine looked sick at the thought, “or find some other girl to do your dirty work.”

Still staring fixedly at yourself in the mirror, you almost missed how both their gazes fell to you. You did, however, catch the way Jasmine kissed her teeth and cocked her head to the side.

“Hey, new girl. Wanna make five hundred bucks?”

----

And that was how you found yourself here, trying to get your breath under control just outside the door to Jasmine’s dressing room. This was insane. This was literally insane. This wasn’t you. You didn’t do this. You weren’t like this. Okay, sure, that was what you had told yourself when you first started dancing, but with dancing, you still had boundaries. They could look, but not touch, and security had your back, and it was a far cry from flashing your tits at some sweaty business men to literally have sex for money.

And yet, you had accepted Jasmine’s offer. She had made it sound so easy.

“The guy’s just back from Pakistan or whatever and he looked pent up like crazy, so he’s probably a two pump chump at most. Easiest and fastest money you’ll ever make. Just remember to make him wear a condom, and it’ll be fine.”

And when you expressed your concerns about not knowing what to do, Trixie had chimed in with advice:

“You know when you give a private dance and have to swat their hands away a few times before they get the message? Yeah, just do that, but don’t swat his hands. It’ll be easy.”

Speaking of hands, you rubbed your clammy palms on the limited real estate of your outfit and wished you had covered up somehow. That you had borrowed Jasmine’s dressing gown to make some kind of slow and sensual reveal instead of waltzing inside dressed as a literal stripper. It felt tasteless somehow, as if being paid money to fuck someone was not.

“You can do this, you can do this, you can do this,” you muttered under your breath, trying to remember all the reasons you had agreed to this. You needed those five hundred bucks by tomorrow. It was the whole reason you had picked up an extra shift tonight, hoping you would get lucky and catch the eye of some high roller. The way the night was going though, you would be lucky to break even. Desperate times called for desperate measures, right? You just needed to get in there and get it over with and deal with the psychological fallout later. It was just sex. Everyone had sex. And lots of people had sex for money. Prostitution was the world’s oldest profession, wasn’t it? Besides, it was just this one time. You needed those five hundred dollars. 

The other way to get it by tomorrow was risky — too risky.

Before you could psych yourself out anymore, you closed your eyes, took a deep breath to get into your stage persona, and turned the door handle.

Not sure what to expect — the poor guy could be sitting in there buck naked for all you knew — you opened the door carefully and slipped inside. The loud music from the stage faded to nothing but the bass track when you clicked the lock shut behind you. You had never actually seen any of the private dressing rooms before — it was roughly the size of a shoebox, with two armchairs and a small table crammed in with a vanity and some lockers. Rows and rows of shiny tassels hung over the large makeup mirror and momentarily distracted you before your eyes fell on him. 

Him, who sat like a statue on the very edge of the seat of one of the worn-down armchairs. Him, who looked like a still-life painted by someone who had mastered the basics of anatomy, but not human behavior. Him, with short-cropped hair that looked glued to his scalp and a tight scowl on a slightly shiny face, his taut muscles stretching from his down-turned mouth all the way to his rigid collar-bones. 

“Who are you?” 

His voice caught you off guard. It had a strange lilt to it, like a grown man having minor flashbacks to puberty, teetering between raspy hard and soft every other syllable. You could not decide if he sounded angry or indifferent, and tried to give him a seducing smile to break the ice.

“I’m—”

“Where’s the other girl?”

He pulled on his words somewhat. You couldn’t say if he was blending the r’s or elongating the vowels or had a slight lisp, but it was not in a drunken slur, more as a last remnant of a speech impediment. His lip lifted in something between confusion and contempt and you swallowed, doing your best to avoid flinching at his harsh question. Shit, you knew he would ask that and had even expressed your concerns to Jasmine. She had just waved her hand dismissively and said he would not care which pussy he got as long as he got pussy.

Except he looked very much like he cared. He still sat in that fixed position, back straight, and his knees spread with a hand perched on each one. Not resting, not even remotely close to resting, and not moving anything else than his head and neck as he talked. 

“She had to go,” you mumbled and licked your lips, tasting the dryness of your lipstick. “I’m—”

“Go where?”

Again, his question seemed almost juvenile in nature. Like a child that had yet to learn the social cues of communication. Demanding attention and answers at whim, and disregarding the dynamic nature of a dialogue. Or maybe actively disregarding it, treating it more like an interrogation than a conversation. Like a cop?

“I don’t know,” you mumbled again, but this time you hurried to continue before he could bark another question. “Something about a family emergency.”

The guy closed his mouth that had been halfway open in question and slunk back a fraction, skepticism written all over his face. His scowl did not clear at all, and you noticed the way he flexed his fists still settled on his knees. It was becoming obvious why Jasmine had backed out. You had expected some greasy drunkard who had just gotten his tax returns and wanted to splurge on something nice. Not this ticking time bomb whose body language screamed that this was the last place he wanted to be.

Yet, here he was, and he looked both old and capable enough to leave if he so desired. So you just had to assume that he still wanted to get his money’s worth and get on with it.

The brief silence helped ease you back into character and you dropped your voice to a lower octave. “I’m here to take care of you instead.” 

The glare he sent you should have sent you running for the hills. Only his eyes moved, staring up at you from beneath his dark brows, and you did not feel naked as much as literally exposed. The very definition of the word. Uncovered, unconcealed, and unprotected. Sure, you wore a skimpy outfit that did not leave all that much to the imagination, but you could have worn a whole-ass duffle coat and it would not have made a lick of difference.

“How ‘bout some music?” you suggested, mostly because it gave you an excuse to turn away from him. To give yourself a small break from the intensity of his undivided attention. You sauntered over to the vanity to find the music box Jasmine had told you about and caught sight of your own reflection. There you were, in your tall heels and revealing costume. With the heavy makeup and clip-in extensions, you looked really frickin’ hot and, most importantly, you did not look like yourself. Because this wasn’t you, was it? This was your alter-ego that spent the nights showing her body off to strangers and she could do absolutely anything she wanted. Including this.

You needed this money.

With that fresh boost of courage, you hit ‘play’ on the device and the room filled with the slow sensual beat that was Jasmine in musical form, perfect for a lap dance. Which was no big deal, you thought, and started moving your hips to the rhythm. You’d done plenty of private dances. No big deal at all.

Just keep telling yourself that, you told yourself as you ran your hands over your curves and tried to imagine being on the stage. You hit the dimmer by the door as you made your way back to the guy, hoping the increased darkness would help both of you loosen up. 

The guy did not appear to have moved a single muscle in your absence. He sat so rigid it looked physically painful and you unwittingly tried to keep your touch feather-light as you placed your finger-tips on his shoulder in case you hurt him somehow. In his defence, he did not flinch at your touch, but it was like he made a very conscious effort not to flinch. Only his head moved, twisting on his neck like a cobra to stare at your hand where it laid on the very edge of his shoulder, hardly the most conspicuous location given the theme of the night.

Holy shit, this guy was hot. Yeah, you’d obviously noticed the way his biceps and pecs filled out his shirt, but you were not prepared for the way his skin burned. You could feel it almost simmering underneath his nondescript black t-shirt as you did a walk-around. Trailing your fingertips from his shoulder and to his back, spreading your hands out over his traps like you were giving him a massage, but not daring to apply any pressure. The muscles flexed and bucked beneath your hand anyway, while the freckles on his bare arms danced in tune.

“Relax,” you murmured from behind him, running your palms over his rigid back, like a horse-whisperer trying to calm an irrate mustang. “I’m only here to make you feel good.”

No answer, not that you had expected one, and you went ahead with the dancing. There was an art to it, as you had learned when you started working. Especially the private dances. Giving an illusion of intimacy, flaunting and teasing, making the client think there was going to be more than just fun and fantasy. You knew other girls sometimes did stuff during the private dances, but you had always abided by the club rules and maintained the no-touch-policy from the stage. Some guys tried, obviously, but quickly subsided when it became clear it was either just a dance or nothing. 

Except now it was supposed to be everything.

Remembering Trixie’s advice, you kept dancing like normal and made your way to stand between the guy’s spread knees. You writhed and twisted to the beat that filled the whole room and ran your hands over yourself in lieu of burning yourselftrying to touch him, however platonically. Normally, you would maintain eye contact as much as possible, reeling in your catch slowly, but this guy was too intense, and you let your eyes close instead. You dragged your fingers through your fake hair, down your throat and over the swell of your breasts. Not stopping there, but going further down, caressing your stomach and hips, dipping to your thighs before going back up. 

You bit your lip, losing yourself in the music, feeling sexy as hell. Your heart beat along with the bass and your skin prickled with the energy rush you always got at this point. Muscle-memory took over and before you knew it, you were popping the clasps open on your top, one by one. You kept it in place with your hands, squeezing your breasts together teasingly, knowing that the reveal mattered more than the prize. 

Of course, that was when you made the mistake of looking at his face. He still had not fucking moved at all! Seriously, he was still staring at you from beneath his brows like you had pissed in his beer instead of giving him a lap dance.

The intensity of his expression had you spin around again instead of taking off your top. At this rate, it would be the slowest five hundred bucks you would ever earn. And you still had to earn it, you reminded yourself as you absentmindedly wiggled your ass in front of him. What was this guy’s problem? Nerves? Too drunk to function? Not drunk enough?

You forced yourself to take a step back — it was easier when you didn’t have to look at his face — and pushed yourself into him. Still dancing, you bent your knees and spread your legs until your head was closer to his and gave him a sultry look over your shoulder. “Can I get you anything? A beer or…” 

Something stronger? Jasmine definitely had something in here somewhere, and she could definitely spare some to help this poor guy get his money’s worth. Anything to help him relax.

“No.”

The word came out hard and decisive, travelling from his chest into yours, and it would take all the relaxants in the world to make you argue with him. 

“Okay,” you said softly and licked your lips again. The silence and his rigidity ate away at your nerves and you found yourself talking while you ground your ass closer and closer to his crotch. Just waiting for him to put his hands on you so you could take things further. “So, what’s the occasion? You just get back from a tour?”

Jasmine had said Pakistan, and while you assumed she meant Afghanistan, you did not want to be wrong in front of this guy. Maybe that was his deal? PTSD or something? The guy had soldier written all over him.

“No,” the guy repeated in the same flat tone that bordered on angry. Again, he did not flinch as you threw your arms up and back around his neck, but you felt the way he swallowed hard. “It’s my birthday.”

“Well, happy birthday,” you practically purred, relieved at the semblance of a normal conversation. You twisted your hips side to side, feeling the harsh denim of his jeans dig into your lower buttocks, almost searching for a tell-tale hardness that would give you an entry point to finish this. 

“And I just got out of prison.”

If this had been a movie, the music would have scratched and halted. It didn’t — it kept on playing as before — but you couldn’t help the way you froze on the spot, stuck in the awkward position. Your back pressed against his hard chest, your ass digging into his crotch, and your arms still looped around his neck. 

“Oh,” you said, like a complete idiot, but could not will yourself to move. Every alarm bell was going off at the same time and you resisted the urge to downright bolt out of there. “What-what did you do?”

The silence dragged on way longer than it should have, and your legs shook with the effort of staying still.

“Robbed a bank.” 

“Oh.” Your knees finally gave in to the strain and you plopped down in his lap, perching on him like he again perched on the chair. “Oh, that’s good.”

“That’s good?”

You did not see his incredulous look, but you sure as hell felt it.

“I mean, not good that you robbed a bank or went to prison for it,” you had no way of stopping the freight train of your blabbing, “but robbing a bank’s not that bad. It’s a pretty straightforward crime, when you think about it. Nothing to worry about.”

Somehow, your body began to move again. Completely on its own, though. Full on autopilot, just like your mouth was.

“There’s not a lot of analysis needed to why someone robs a bank. Don’t need a whole profile or anything. You rob a bank, it’s just about money.”

His voice rumbled close to your ear and in your chest. “Then what’s a non-straightforward crime?”

“You know, something a bit more complicated in terms of motive. Like, say,” you grimaced, wondering why you could not just shut up, “killing prostitutes or something.” 

That earned you a low amused snort, and he sounded a bit more relaxed when he said, “Yeah, not really my thing.”

“Good to know.”

The hint of humanity he displayed flooded you with relief. So much that it made you dizzy and stupidly brave again. You turned around to face him, your barely restrained tits practically up his nose, and he instinctively leaned back to give you room. Which you used to throw your leg over his lap and your arms over his shoulders, straddling him with your knees on either side of him in the armchair. 

The close proximity sent his warm breath over your face, but you were too close to get a good look at his expression. Which was fine by you and you gently swayed with the music, noting how his hands fell to the side, still not making any effort to touch you. 

Conversation had loosened him up slightly last time, so you kept going. “How long were you inside?”

“Three years.” He did not shy away from eye contact, but his jaw rolled when you leaned in toward his face. “And nineteen days.”

No wonder he was so tense. Again, he did not flinch when you brushed your lips against his cheek, hoping against hope that you could make him warm up. You placed small, almost platonic pecks along his jaw, a glaring invitation for him to kiss you if he wanted — he just needed to turn his head a fraction — but of course nothing happened.

“Three years is a long time,” you murmured into the shell of his ear. It was a long time and you would have thought he would at least be a little bit hard by the way you were practically riding him over his clothes. “But I thought armed robberies gave you six. You out on parole?”

“Who said I was armed?”

His voice grated on your insides, the husky and deep texture pushing some hitherto unknown buttons. You pressed yourself even closer to him, drowning yourself in his heat to escape your own nerves. He smelled nice, you idly thought. Clean. 

“Unarmed are two.” 

“Why do you know that?”

You sensed more than saw his surprise and shrugged. “Half my cousins are either inside now or have been at some point.”

“Yeah? What for?”

“Stupid shit..” You kept riding his lap, hoping to elicit some kind of response, feeling stupider by the second. “Drug charges most of them. Petty theft. Couple of assaults.” Why the hell were you talking about your cousins’ prison sentences right now? You stopped moving mid-ride and used his neck as leverage to keep you aloft so you could look at him. “Can I ask you something?”

His eyebrow twitched as he shrugged. “Go ahead.”

“Is this, uh, doing anything for you?”

“What do you mean?”

“The dancing,” you clarified and waved your hand at the space between you, “and the, uh, dry humping. I can switch it up if you want; try something else? Or is it me that’s not doing it for you?”

His scowl seemed to have deepened during your questions, but there was a flicker of uncertainty somewhere on his face. “It’s not you. I can’t remember the last time I had an erection.”

“Oh.” You were not winning any awards for eloquence tonight and you gently lowered back down into his lap. Again, you tried to stay in character. “I can fix that.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Why not?” you asked, absentmindedly noting how rigid his neck was under your hand. He was so blunt you had no ideahow to continue, except in the worst possible way. “Are you on medication or something?”

Wrong question, wrong question, wrooooong question.

“No.” His nostrils flared. “I’m not.”

“I didn’t mean—” 

Internally, you screamed at yourself. Jesus Christ, what was wrong with you? Yeah, sure, insinuate to the seemingly mentally unstable ex-con that he should be on medication, that’s gonna go down well.

“I’m sorry, we just recently did a class on this. Common side-effects of prescription and over-the-counter drugs. It was stuck in my head. I really didn’t mean anything by it.”

“Class?” His face had an almost feline quality to it and he looked like a disgruntled alley cat when his lip lifted in confusion. “What class?”

“I am,” still in his lap, which was a really awkward way to conduct a conversation, “taking classes to get my nursing associate degree. And then I will take the NCLEX exam to become a registered nurse.”

You added the NCLEX part to give some weight to the fact that you were actually studying to be a nurse and you hadactually covered some of this in class. 

“Which is why I’m here,” you continued, because the way he stared at you made your insides tighten weirdly, “trying to earn money for the tuition.”

“Tuition,” he repeated as if tasting the word. 

“Yeah, like a school fee—”

“I know what it is. How much do you need?”

The guy really did ask questions like a kid. Or a cop. No nuance, no filler conversation, just blunt and straight to the point. 

“Uh, well, with books and equipment,” you still sat in his lap, holding on to his neck, not sure how to proceed, “it’s roughly ten thousand dollars.”

The guy tilted his head in recognition before he looked at you again, this time more amused than angry. He sounded almost condescending when he said, “There are lot easier ways to earn ten grand. Faster too.”

Riskier too.

“Yeah, well, I don’t think I’d make a good bank robber.” 

You expected a smile, but he just shrugged, as if to say ‘you never know’ and remained silent.

“You want me to,” you gestured at your awkward position, “keep going? Or should we try something else? I can turn the lights off all the way, if you want. Or on, maybe? Should I touch you or do you wanna touch me or I can get a wig or… I’m sorry, I’ve never done this before. Give me some pointers here, man.”

The hurried admission came without your intention, and you could not exactly blame him for not getting immediately turned on from your clumsy attempts at seduction. 

He snorted again, and his lips twisted into something resembling a bitter smile. “Bet all the guys love hearing you say that.”

“Say what?”

“That you’ve never done this before.”

“I-I wouldn’t know,” you stuttered and practically felt how the power dynamic between you shifted. Before this, you had been in control, somewhat, living vicariously as your stripper persona. But somehow you had brought the real you into this. The girl who took night classes and dreamed of becoming a nurse. And you were still in the lap of a literal ex-con somewhere between ten and fifteen years your senior with obvious worldly experience, despite his awkward way of conversing. “I really haven’t done this before.”

“Then why are you doing it now?”

You could not wrap your head around the way he asked you stuff. It was not a hostile question, just genuine curiosity wrapped up in a gruff tone and incredulity.

“Well, Jasmine said she would give me five hundred bucks and I really need the money, so…”

Feeling idiotic, you made a move to get off him, but jolted at the sudden heat coming from him gripping your waist. The first time he had touched you since you came in here. It stopped your disembark, and you felt more like a deer caught in the headlights than ever before as he made a point to stare into your eyes.

“My brother paid her a thousand bucks. You’re getting ripped off.”

He held your stare for a second longer to drive in his point and then removed his hand. Stuck at processing that information, you remained in place. 

“So not only am I a whore, I’m a cheap one too, is that what you’re trying to say? Sorry, that was a bad joke,” you hurried to add when his face twisted into a deeper scowl again. “In my defence, I really haven’t done this before, so I wouldn’t exactly know the ratio of pay between pimp and prostitute. Maybe fifty-fifty is fair.”

“Why? You’re doing all the work,” the guy pointed out slowly.

“I’m not really doing anything right now, am I?”

“You’re talking to me.”

“That’s usually on the house.”

The guy did a half-shrug, but said nothing. 

“Sooooo, your brother paid for this, huh? Makes sense. Can I ask,” you spoke slowly, trying to find the right words, “if this was a birthday gift you actually wanted or one that was… forced upon you, so to speak?” No reply, and you narrowed your eyes at him. “Am I forcing myself upon you, is what I’m trying to ask? Do you want me to…” You gestured again to where you sat, not really sure which direction you wanted to indicate, and he still said nothing. “Yeah, you know what, I’m just gonna—”

Making up your mind, you pushed off his lap and stood up, which of course caused your already loosened top to finally fall off. At this point, you had practically tried to screwdrive yourself into his crotch, so having your tits out in the open didn’t really bother you that much except for the way he reacted.

If possible, he froze, somehow solidifying even more from his already unmoving position. Nothing moved except his eyes that dragged down towards your exposed chest and you could feel the way your nipples tightened at the newfound attention. Unwavering attention, to be honest, and a rush of excitement spread to your core. Maybe there was still room to salvage this? Make it a good experience for him? The music still rolled in the background of your darkened room and you tried to get your breathing under control again where you stood between his spread knees.

“You know, you can touch me if you want,” you said softly, but refrained from touching him this time. His eyes flickered up to your face for a second, before focusing further south. “I’m yours tonight.”

You practically held your breath, waiting for a reply. Or a reaction. Anything, really, that would help you navigate this situation. And part of you cheered when he raised his hand. Slowly, tentatively, but still deliberately reaching up to run his fingers down the side of your breast. You had to fight to remain still, especially with the scorching heat emitted from his fingertips, but at least this was known territory.

The guy caressed the soft flesh of your breast, grazed his fingertips along your straining nipple and—

And then dropped his hand down and proceeded to glare holes somewhere that was neither your face nor chest. Did he look redder than before? Embarrassed? Embarrassed men usually turned angry, but this guy’d been angry from the get-goso you had no idea what to do here.

“Okay,” you said, as if telling him it was okay. “Not the reaction my tits usually get, but okay.” You ignored the way your skin buzzed from the brief contact and picked up your top to pull it back on. Taking your time with the buttons, you tried to keep your voice light. “We don’t have to do anything, you know? I’ll get you your money back.”

“Keep it.” At least he did not sound angrier than before and his eyes eventually found your face again. “For your tuition.”

It was a truce of some sorts, but it definitely marked the end of anything even remotely sexual.

“This is for rent, actually.” 

You kept your tone conversational, almost desperate to not make a big deal of this, to make him feel okay about it, to make this weird tension between you disappear. You walked normally — as normally as you could in these heels — over to the vanity to turn down the music. You also picked up a couple of beers from the small fridge by the door and handed him one that he gave a moment’s consideration before opening. 

“My roommate split yesterday, leaving me alone with the rent that is due tomorrow. Or, really, it was due today, but I jumped out of the window so the landlord couldn’t corner me in the hall and harass me about it.”

The guy took a sip of beer, clutching the bottle like a robotic claw. “Shitty roommate.”

“Oh, you have no idea,” you muttered darkly and plopped down on the other armchair. “Before she left, she decided to wreck the place and steal anything remotely valuable. Cleared out my whole stash too, everything I’d already saved up.”

The guy tilted his head and gave you another glare. “Then you should’ve hidden it better.”

You blinked at him, momentarily stunned by the lack of sympathy for your situation. Then again, he did not exactly seem to be the coddling type. “Yeah, that’s on me, I guess. What can I say, I’m an optimist. I like to believe most people are decent human beings.”

He considered this. “They’re not.”

“They can be,” you countered and leaned back in the chair, adopting an unladylike position while he kept his back and legs perpendicular to the floor. Now that the tension was gone, you ventured to study him further. The freckles, the lines to his face, the sharp angle of his jaw and the solid muscle under his t-shirt. Probably not much taller than you — and definitely not taller than you in these heels — but he struck you as the kind of guy who didn’t need size to be intimidating. 

“Got your hair cut in prison?” you found yourself asking before you could think it through. Anything to keep the conversation flowing instead of the awkward silence. “My cousins all rocked the same ‘do when they got out.”

“Yeah,” he said, dragging the word out, and then rubbed a hand over the goofy buzz-cut. “It’s shitty, I know. I’m growing it out.”

His voice still fluctuated between hard and soft, almost reminding you of chain smokers who had to force their words out through strained vocal chords. Maybe he was forcing the words out. It would fit with how tense he was otherwise.

“What’s your name?” he suddenly asked, while tilting his head slightly down to stare up at you. Like a lion exposing his throat to indicate friendliness. 

“Karma,” you said.

Something twitched on his lips, reminiscent of a smile, but not really. “No, it’s not.”

“It’s my name in here,” you countered with a shrug, referencing the club. “What’s your name?”

“Andrew,” Andrew said without hesitation, giving the room at large his attention. “But people call me Pope.”

“Pope?”

“Mhm.”

“Why? Alright, alright, just asking.” You held your hands up as defence against the look he gave you that showed he would not be answering that question. “So, listen, do yo—”

“Are you gonna be able to go back to school?” Pope cut you off, and the genuine interest of his question momentarily stunned you. “Pay your tuition?”

“Uh. Sure, I guess.” You shifted when his stare did not relent, apparently not satisfied with that answer. “Well, I tried to do the math and lucky me, I’d already paid the advanced deposit so I’m only out five grand. If I pick up a couple more of the week night shifts here — the cash flow isn’t as hot as the weekends, but the house fee and tip-outs are lower so it evens out — and put in a few more hours for my day job and find a new roommate by the end of the month, I should in theory manage to pull through before the semester starts.” 

You grimaced at the thought of working away the whole summer instead of experiencing anything this city had to offer.

“In theory, except that I need at least seven hundred by tomorrow to cover the whole rent and it’s been sort of a slow night before this, so I might have to hide from my landlord one more day.”

“Or you can get the full grand from your,” Pope gave you a pointed look, “friend.”

“I doubt Jasmine’s gonna be happy about that.”

“Fight her for it.”

“Uh, no. One, I’m ninety percent sure Jas is banging the manager, so she can get me kicked out of the club. Two, I’m not up to speed on my tetanus shots, and she looks like she’s a biter.”

Pope snorted, and you smiled, happy that you managed to amuse him. “Then how are you going to pay rent?”

“Go out there and shake my ass, I guess. Unless you have any last-minute tips for robbing a bank?”

“Yeah, I do,” Pope said without hesitation. “Don’t get caught.”

You laughed, only vaguely noticing how he didn’t. “That’s great advice. Thanks, I never would have thought about that. Guess I should find a bank robbing mentor who didn’t end up in prison, huh?”

Pope shrugged. “I only got caught once.”

The instinct to laugh died in your throat this time. Was he joking? His posture and tone remained the same, and he was meeting your eyes evenly. Almost daring you to call his bluff — or lack thereof. You just blinked at him and took a hasty sip of beer to hide your confusion. 

“We’re finished here,” Pope eventually said. It was not a question, and he rose from the chair in a fluid motion. You had been right, he wasn’t particularly tall, but he carried himself taller somehow. “I should go.”

“Yeah, we’ve been in here a while,” you agreed from your spot in the armchair. “Any longer and your brother’s probably gonna think I’ve roofied you and taken off with the cash.”

Pope’s eyes flickered to his beer bottle.

“Oh my gosh, I haven’t!” You stumbled over your words to get them out as fast as possible. “No, no, just another bad joke, sorry.”

“How much do you make?” Pope asked, yet again giving you whiplash with the sudden turns in the conversation. “Per night.”

“Depends on the night. Usually I’ll clear around three hundred bucks for a regular shift. Maybe twice that on the weekends, but I don’t like weekends all that much. The crowd’s bigger, but so’s the competition. Tonight’s a slow night, though. Maybe a hundred, hundred-fifty.”

Pope nodded as if he was processing this information as part of a bigger picture. “Three hundred a night. Does that go for all the girls?”

“Well, uh… I’m a relatively popular dancer on my shifts,” you admitted slowly, almost to remind yourself that you were pretty hot even if you hadn’t managed to arouse Pope, “so I probably earn above average for dancing alone. But there’s a lot of girls who’s got regulars that spend a lot on them, and then there’s a lot of girls who’s extra… service-oriented and they earn more, obviously. And again, weekends are usually way better.”

Pope nodded again. “How much is the house fees?”

“It’s not that bad here. Flat fees are twenty bucks for a weeknight, fifty for a weekend. Then there’s a five-dollar charge for private dances, ten if it’s busy. And we gotta tip a percentage of our earnings to the DJ and security.”

“How many girls?”

“Anywhere from ten to fifty. Event nights, after big games and stuff, are the busiest. And most profitable. Managers usually raise the house fees to at least two-hundred and you’re lucky to get a spot on the poles without having to fight your way there. Private dances go from five to fifty a pop.”

Pope seemed to consider this. “That’s a lot of cash flowing around.”

“I guess,” you said and shrugged again. “This place does okay, but the real money’s made in the cities where all the finance bros go to blow their stock earnings. The gentleman’s clubs and stuff. I used to work there before, didn’t have to worry that much about rent then, I’ll tell you that.”

“Then why leave?”

You drank more beer, suddenly realizing you had over shared way more information than you had intended. Risky, risky, risky. “It just didn’t work out, that’s all.”

That vague answer seemed to satisfy him, and he placed the bottle of beer on the table. Right next to the unopened pack of condoms. So much for your grand debut as a prostitute, you thought idly and had another sip of your own beer. Then again, some girls got killed after their grand debut, so this wasn’t that bad, really.

The rustling of paper made you look up, and you realized Pope had his wallet out. He flicked through a large wad of bills and pulled out a hefty stack, offering them to you.

“No,” you said on principle, because that looked to be at least a thousand bucks.

“No!”

“Take it,” Pope rasped, but more impatient than angry. “Consider it a bonus.”

You made no motion to accept the money. “For what? We didn’t even do anything.”

Pope looked unbothered. “For a nice conversation.” Again, there was nothing to indicate he was making a joke and you could do nothing but stare at him. “This’ll help you cover the rent and give you a head start for your tuition stuff.”

“And what do I owe you in return?”

“Nothing.”

“Free cash, huh? Yeah, right. Thanks, but I don’t need your money.”

“Yeah,” Pope looked puzzled as he glanced at the room like you had forgotten what had started all of this, “you do. Take it.” His eyebrows rose and his whole face had smoothed out from any frowning, immediately taking years off his appearance. “Go on.”

Brows furrowed, you hesitantly reached out, almost expecting it to be some sort of test. Like he would yank back his hand at the last moment, having confirmed your greed and ingratitude, and would now beat the living shit out of you as payback.

Of course, nothing happened. You took the money and Pope put his wallet back in his pocket.

“Hang on, I gotta walk you out,” you suddenly remembered and rose from your chair before he could leave. “You’re gonna get your ass kicked if security finds you wandering back here on your own. Do you want me to play it up when we go out there?”

“Play what up?”

“Like,” you had a full inch on him in your heels but felt a foot shorter with the way he looked at you, “pretend that we did more than we did, you know? Make your brother think you rocked my world? I can mess up my hair and make-up or something.”

“I don’t care what my brothers think.”

With that, he unlocked the dressing room door and pushed it open, leaving a gap for you to follow. The loud music and smell of beer and perfume hit you full on and sent you right back into character. 

You planted a satisfied smile on your face and hurried to grab onto his hand before he could march off. Leaning into him — he was still running hot as hell — you half-whispered, “I kinda have to play it up anyway, sorry.”

At least he did not push you off, but let you lead him back to the general club area where you paused. Feeling other men’s eyes on you both, you made a show of dropping your hip on one side and twirling the extensions that fell over your shoulder. One table with several guys and plenty of girls seemed particularly interested in watching you and you figured that might be his brothers, even if none of them looked anything like him.

“Thank you for your service, soldier,” you said in your best seductive tone. You had no plans of trying your hand at anything more than dancing tonight, but it never hurt to maintain the illusion. Men could spend a lot of money lost in that illusion. Tottering on your heels, you bent towards him to give him a slow kiss on the cheek and took the opportunity to whisper in his ear. “Thank you, Pope. And happy birthday.”

You winked at him, not even bothered by his apparent indifference at your efforts, and sashayed your way to the bar where you had spotted Jasmine. 

“Any trouble?” she asked as you leaned back against the bar top and signaled Henry for some water. She sent Pope’s back a wary look where he was walking resolutely towards the table with his brothers. Oh yeah, that guy had definitely been to prison, you thought. He had that walk and everything. 

You watched as his brothers — four of them? — laughed and patted his back in typical guy-fashion when he returned and how his body language looked as rigid and uncomfortable with them as it had with you. Small comfort, at least.

“No trouble,” you said with a smile and held your hand out to Jasmine, who grimaced and reached down into her garter belt for the money. “I’ll let it slide this time since we agreed on five hundred, but don’t try to screw me over like that again. Save the hustling for the Johns, okay?”

A venomous frown marred Jasmine’s porcelain features, but she did not have time to reply before the club manager sidled over.

“Hey, Karma, the south pole’s free the next song. You up for it?”

Even with Pope’s so-called ‘bonus’, you still had some ways to go before you were covered for the semester. So you finished your water and smiled. “Sure.”

“Break a leg,” Jasmine called after you, but you did not pay her any attention.

“And here’s the moment we’ve all been waiting for,” the DJ announced over the music as you trailed your heels over the podium and caressed the pole like a long lost lover, noticing how Pope was not at his table anymore, “she goes around and comes around. Please give it up for… Karma!” ------ I admit, I posted this because I need to connect more with other Pope-girlies. Come scream with me in my inbox. Please.

Other than that, if you like my writing and want to see more? Reblogs and comments make me write faster 💕  Thank you!

[caffeinewitchcraft]

AITA for being proud of my job as a regional Nightmare?

My sister told me she’s making her own post and that if I was so sure I wasn’t TA then I should make my own so here I am.

I’m a regional Nightmare. I’m very proud of how hard I worked to get here. Not many terrors in their 20s get this high up and it’s because I do the work. I get up at 8pm and I’m out in the woods grinding out those quotas until dawn. Sometimes I sleep out there in my uniform just so I can be the first on scene for the multi-part jobs. I’m efficient, I’m punctual, and I’m committed. My goal is to be a Cyptid by the time I’m 30 and, to do that, I have to stay on at all times.

As a result, I work a lot. I’m often not home for days at a time. I have a very strict training regimen and my time for friends and family is virtually nonexistent. That’s why when I do get the time to hang out, I prefer to spend my time intentionally. What I mean by that is that I don’t want to sit on a couch when I could be lifting weights. I don’t want to chill in the pool when I could be volunteering for new scares. I especially don’t want to gossip over tea when I could be getting overtime.

Last Saturday, my sister invited a bunch of family over to her house. My job in the Virginia woods fell through, so I decided to go. Silly (her childhood nickname) said she had something important to tell the family so I thought it wouldn’t be a waste of my time.

Key word: thought.

When I got to Silly’s house, I was surprised to see so many cars out front. Our parents were there and our older brother. The house was packed. There were cousins, aunts, uncles and a ton of people I didn’t know.

At first the event was fine. Silly’s always been a good cook (see, I know you’re reading this, Silly, and see? I do compliment you when do something actually good) and everyone was really enjoying the flank steak (though I did have to save it before she cooked it medium well). But as the day wore on, I could tell people were getting bored. Silly and Mom were focused on cleaning up and said that dessert would have to wait until her fiance got home. Which was kind of rude to be late and I felt really bad for Silly. It seems like my soon to be brother-in-law (BIL for short) is never around when she needs him.

In an effort to help, I engaged some of the people I didn’t know in conversation because the party was getting a little dead and I didn’t want one of my sister’s parties to fail. I was trying hard not to think about the time I was wasting waiting for my future BIL so it also served as a distraction.

It turns out one of the guys was a fellow terror. He worked a corporate job and we talked for a while about the pros of being freelance like me. He asked me a lot of questions and I was happy to mentor another terror.  Corporate can suck the art out of what we do. My clients only care if the quota for their mission is met and don’t enforce such strict timelines. They come to me for quality. Poor guy barely had time to mend his uniform between scares (his cloak was tattered and his hook hand was rusty) so I recommended my tailor and blacksmith.

The guy and I exchanged information. I gave him my business card and he looked for one of his. While he looked, I felt nature calling so I headed upstairs to use my sister’s bathroom (like hell I was going to use the same one as my Uncle Joe). From up there, I saw my future BIL pull into the driveway.

 Being a regional Nightmare is a tough job. Like I said, I have to train a lot to keep my certification. So I thought it’d be a good idea to get a scare on my BIL both to punish him for being late and to make up for all the time I’d already wasted at the party.

So I waited for him to come upstairs to change and, when he did, I pulled out the works. I darkened the room and fell back into the shadows. Then, while he groped for the light switch, I stretched out my leg (I have an extra joint in them) and tried to nudge him. I honestly didn’t expect for him to trip and I DEFINITELY didn’t expect for him to fall backwards. I’ve been practicing this skill on my family since I was sixteen and got the leg extension mod and none of them ever fell like that.

My future BIL fell down the stairs. I panicked and raced over to look over the banister. He was fine! He wasn’t bleeding or anything and, when I saw that, I started to laugh.

Everyone freaked out though. They all said I was being immature and bullying my BIL. I told them it wasn’t bullying, it was my actual job. I said that I was just joking and didn’t know my BIL, a former “Cryptid”, would take it so hard.

My mom jumped in and backed me up, but my sister has always been the Queen of the castle. Silly and Dad kicked me out ( I mean, I let them, I’ve got enhanced strength and I didn’t want to hurt them). Dad called me a disgrace and to not come back home.

I asked him if he was really kicking me out just because I wanted to show off my skills a little? And he said yes. And Silly said I had it coming to me for a long time.

I don’t even know what went wrong.

 So AITA for taking pride in my work?

---.

SillyCreeper says: Oh my god, you actually made this post? You’re an actual idiot. For anyone who believes this story, read mine before you vote. My brother left out a few details like how the party was my GENDER REVEAL PARTY and that he’s not a regional Nightmare, he’s a  Slasher for hire.

OP replies: I am TRAINED to operate as a regional Nightmare. That makes me an independent regional Nightmare.

SillyCreeper replies: Regional Nightmares don’t steal failed missions from corporate Slashers

OP replies: Get your own post, Silly

SillyCreeper: Oh, I already did. Have fun being torn apart on yours, dumbass.

-----

Thanks for reading! If you'd like to read Silly's AITA post a week early, please consider becoming a patron (X)!

Aita for going no contact with my brother after he pulled a Scare on my husband?

I'm working on this anthology during November and I'm having a blast with this story in particular! The family drama keeps going on and on

[kxsagi]

HELLOOOO OK SO I JUST READ YOUR LATEST WRITING ABOUT READER LOVING FOOD AND I ABSOLUTELY DEVOURED THE WHOLE POST😋😋

so like now I've got an idea. what if now..it's a reader that eats less, like they don't like eating just because everyday they don't feel like it. and bllk boys being an athlete ofc prioritizes getting enough energy and nutrients from food so they ask the reader to eat more or prob they just learn how to cook for both. can I get this with isagi, kaiser, itoshi brothers, shidou, and karasu? THANK YOU SO MUCH AND BTW I CANT HELP BUT KEEP MENTIONING THAT I REALLY LOVE UR WRITING AND DONT FORGET TO REST WHEN NEEDED.

LOVE YOU!!!!!

“𝐚𝐜𝐭�� 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐛𝐟”

a/n: thank you so much!!! i'm getting emotional 😭😭😭 i'll rest when i need to and you do the same! love you!!! 🫶🏻

also side note, i really don’t promote unhealthy eating habits, and even if you don’t feel like eating, please make sure to eat and fuel your body because you deserve to be fed and feel good! 

ft. isagi yoichi, kaiser michael, itoshi rin, itoshi sae, shidou ryusei, karasu tabito

isagi yoichi

he finds out on accident. 

you casually say something like “oh, i didn’t eat today either” when he asks what you had for lunch, and the word “either” shatters his entire worldview. 

“what do you mean ‘either’? wait… wait wait wait, how long has this been a thing?” 

the boy goes from concerned boyfriend to a TED Talk nutritionist in three seconds flat. 

immediately pulls out a color-coded meal tracker app to “make it more fun” like it’s a game. 

and he will absolutely start meal prepping with you. thinks it’s kind of romantic, actually. he’ll sit at your counter with a blender and go “if we blend chicken and spinach together, you get all the protein and fiber without having to chew anything! win-win!” 

his mission becomes “get you to eat three times a day like it’s the world cup final.” 

“love, i swear on blue lock, just take one bite of this or i’ll start crying.” 

kaiser michael

kaiser’s first instinct is to mock you. 

“you’re not eating again? what are you, a plant? photosynthesizing your way through life?” 

but deep down he’s worried sick. 

he notices the way you get tired easily and how your hands are cold even in summer. and while he’s a little dramatic, he does care. 

so he starts learning how to cook – secretly. because if you found out he was doing all this for you, you'd probably get flustered and avoid it. 

next thing you know, there’s a very flustered kaiser in your kitchen at 8 AM, shirtless, aggressively googling “how to make cute bento boxes that will guilt-trip your girlfriend into eating.” 

tries to act cool when he presents it to you. 

“eat it. i didn’t spend an hour making smiley-face eggs for you to skip breakfast again.” 

if you say “i’m not hungry,” he fake gasps and goes, “i see. you hate my cooking. okay. noted. i’ll go cry in the shower now.” 

itoshi rin

rin is not subtle. 

the moment he catches you skipping meals or brushing it off, he just squints and goes, “that’s not healthy.” 

he’ll start leaving little plates of cut-up fruit, protein bars, or drinks with a sticky note like “eat this. now.” 

very “acts like he doesn’t care, but is cooking rice in your kitchen at midnight because you haven’t eaten.” 

if he sees you get dizzy or tired, he will pick you up bridal style without saying a word and place you on the couch like you’re a sims character about to pass out. 

“you can’t just run on vibes. you’re not a ghost.” 

but the cutest part? he starts copying recipes from youtube cooking channels, awkwardly learning how to make tamagoyaki or miso soup just because it’s light but filling. 

and when you actually eat something he made? he looks away all flushed like, “whatever. just don’t starve. dumbass.” 

itoshi sae

sae finds out when you casually mention you haven’t had an appetite in a few days. 

he stops chewing mid-bite. slowly lowers his chopsticks. 

“what do you mean… ‘a few days’?” 

he’s horrified. in a calm, dead-eyed, big-brother-knows-best way. 

immediately texts rin like “this is why i have trust issues.” 

he doesn’t make a big deal of it, but the next day he shows up at your place with groceries. fancy ones. imported olive oil. cuts of salmon. actual saffron. 

he cooks gourmet meals like he’s on a michelin-starred revenge arc. 

“you don’t like eating? then i’ll make something so good you’ll change your mind.” 

he casually drops phrases like, “this has slow-digesting carbs and omega-3s, so you won’t feel heavy,” like he’s in your stomach. 

bonus: he cuts up the food into small bite sizes so you don’t get overwhelmed. he’s smooth with it too. 

“you’re eating this one. no negotiation.” 

shidou ryusei

shidou finds out and goes FULL PANIC. 

“HUH???? YOU’RE STARVING YOURSELF FOR FUN?????? BABE, DO YOU KNOW HOW FOOD WORKS???” 

he’s being dramatic, but he’s actually very worried. 

and of course, his version of helping is… weird. 

he decides to cook, which is already a disaster. man made cereal with hot sauce once. 

“i’m gonna feed you with so much protein you’ll turn into a meatball.” 

he tries to make you “protein bombs,” which are just weird mixes of peanut butter, tuna, and pre-workout powder. 

you gag. he calls you ungrateful. 

eventually, he settles on bribery: “eat this, and i’ll let you sit on my lap while i do squats. hell, i’ll do push-ups with you on my back. anything. just eat.” 

he’s so in-your-face affectionate it’s hard to say no. especially when he hugs you from behind and goes, “babe, seriously. you’re perfect. but i want you to have energy to sass me back, y’know? it’s not fun if you’re fainting mid-roast.” 

karasu tabito

karasu notices everything. 

you’re talking about your day and casually mention “i had water and a banana” and he does a full slow turn like, “sorry. that was your meal???” 

turns into mom friend energy immediately. 

he’s a little annoying about it in a loving way. 

“okay, but hear me out… what if you did eat something with actual nutrients? revolutionary, i know.” 

he’ll start showing up with smoothies and snacks unprompted. 

hand-feeds you fries on the couch. 

and he can cook. surprisingly well. 

“i made you a lil something. don’t get used to it, though. unless you want to. actually, yeah. get used to it.” 

jokes aside, he’s really gentle about it. when you explain that it’s more of a lack of appetite than anything serious, he doesn’t push – just offers small, frequent snacks and praise every time you eat. 

“good girl. finish that rice and i’ll let you wear my hoodie tonight.” 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢