#Lane Departure Warning

[techdriveplay]

2024 Isuzu D-MAX LS-U+ – TDP Review

[noohyah]

[SOLVED] Why Does Lane Departure Warning Light Stays On?

Welcome to the world of cars and questions, where that lane departure warning light is causing a bit of a head-scratcher.  You’ve likely noticed it sticking around on your dashboard longer than you’d prefer, and you’re not alone in wondering why.  In this article, we’re going to cut through the confusion and get straight to the point without any unnecessary jargon. So, why does that lane…

[solecize]

  𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐓 | 𝐣𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐤𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 (5)

ten years of being one and the same with jungkook as the country's it couple is the perfect disguise for the reality of a tumultuous relationship hidden behind the scenes.

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: a ㅤㅤㅤ year of a death of a thousand cuts because, no matter what comes your way, saying goodbye is never an option. 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒: idol!jungkook/female idol!reader and fictional versions of various idols 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄. idol au, on-and-off relationship, angst, i swear there's fluff, fake dating, and themes of first love, growing up, struggles with fame, and marriage (ish) 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒. portrayal of a toxic couple (implications of emotional abuse and control), both main characters are very flawed, violence, infidelity, foul language, substance use (illegal drugs) 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄. based off of "you're losing me" by taylor swift. this is a fictional portrayal of real-life people that implement some aspects of real-life events. extra warning for violent acts in a relationship (throwing objects at the wall) ㅤㅤㅤㅤ   ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ   ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤjoin the taglist here! ㅤㅤㅤㅤ   ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ   ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤm.list | previous | next

stop, you're losin' me

i can't find a pulse

my heart won't start anymore

TOP HEADLINE TODAY: new kbs variety show announced - first mc revealed to be s.irens' novaㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ   ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ   ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ   january 2017

the memories of bora bora stuck to you like maple syrup on your hands for years. it was a haunting notion to consider the trip the beginning of the end. you remember the way the golden sand stretched out across the water for what felt like forever, as it shimmered and sparkled under the relentless sun. you could hear jungkook’s laughter echoing in your ears like a melody of a song that looped in your head. the sharpest image of that week glared at you angrily - the first serious fight that you ever got into with your boyfriend.

it was a given that you and jungkook butted heads like any other long-term couple, but you found yourself stomping away to nayoung’s hotel room at the end of the third night with a bundle of clothes in your hands and tear-stained cheeks.

when she swung the door open, her heavy lids indicated that she was about to burst into a complaint about you waking her up. instead, nayoung’s eyes jolted open when they read the expression on your face. 

“what happened?” she asked.

you fought a wail, making sure to shove any sort of crying down your throat because god knows you would never stop if you started. nayoung frowned and opened the door wider, gesturing for you to come in. 

her room was always messy at the dorms and you weren’t shocked to find her hotel room in a similar state of disarray. however, it beat the way you trashed the room you’d been sharing with jungkook.  clothes on the floor, random objects hurled at the wall, and even a lamp abandoned on the floor. the anger you felt was unlike anything you’d ever felt before. you admitted this to nayoung, who looked at you like you had two heads.

“yeah, we fought and i may have knocked some things over. . . “

your temperament was definitely an issue to be discussed, but in your eyes, there were more pressing problems to address. when nayoung made room for you to sit on the left side of the bed, you immediately tucked yourself under the covers and let a few tears stream down your face. 

she frowned. “what were you guys fighting about?”

“jungkook thinks that i’m always too focused on work,” you explained, swiping at your face. “he said i don’t make enough time for him.”

at this point, you were four years into debut and permanently stuck in the fast lane. a few major events occurred in your career recently that changed the trajectory of your group’s popularity - the first being the departure of miseul. it was an unfortunate situation, as she requested the termination of her contract to go back to her hometown, where her grandmother was ill. the company then replaced her with a new girl, cara, who you did not get along with. there was no choice in the matter, though, and your group’s first comeback with the new lineup happened earlier that year.

another signficant dynamic change was nayoung’s quick rise to stardom as an actress. she’d starred in a drama that was one of the most popular of all time on mbc and as a result, grew in popularity that arguably surpassed your group. she had endorsements and jobs coming left and right, which was prioritized by your company over the group’s endeavours. 

it was a bitter feeling, being overshadowed by both your own group mate and boyfriend, but you instead focused on working harder and taking on every project you could. even with bts’ growing status and schedules, you found yourself making less and less time for jungkook and his argument was that he always did more for the relationship than you did.

“focused on work? we’re literally on vacation.” nayoung sighed, coming into bed with you. “i’m glad you’re here, though, y/n. i feel like i haven’t seen you since we landed.”

agreeing to the bora bora trip was a reluctant decision, as it was originally just supposed to be a composition of your and jungkook’s friends. you only wanted to bring nayoung and sooah, until the latter convinced you to ask cara to tag along, since they didn’t want to leave her out. the trip was intended to be the time for you to bond with jungkook, but you were now put into a position to also bond with your group members, especially since things hadn’t really been the same with the girls since miseul left. 

“nayoung, we’re still friends right?” you asked meekly, feeling pathetic even as you said it.

her shoulders dropped and she pulled you into an embrace. “of course we are! why would you say that?”

“ever since we stopped living with each other and since miseul left. . .” you trailed off, tearing away. “i feel like the group sees each other as just coworkers or something.”

you were now twenty years old and experiencing life independently. the same was said for your group mates, as you were all now off doing your own things and only reuniting once or twice a year for a comeback. at some point, you considered these girls sisters. now, those feelings felt miles away. even the bora bora trip felt forced. 

“y/n,” nayoung’s tone grew serious. “i’m always going to be here for you.”

this would be the last time that s.irens would spend time together outside of work. sooah and nayoung’s relationship soured over the years to the point where they no longer spoke by 2020 - a result of merely growing up and growing out of childhood friendships. you also began building resentment against nayoung, who would become the country’s it girl in no time and stopped publicly acknowledging that she was in a girl group. you eventually no longer considered her a friend, deciding you did not want her arrogance in your life. miseul only texted you once a year to say happy birthday. this was the breakdown of the only support system you had. 

when morning came after staying up until dawn with nayoung, you found yourself sneaking back into your and jungkook’s shared hotel room. you were surprised to see that he was not in bed, but felt a salty breeze stream in from the balcony.

  you stepped forward and saw jungkook sitting down, eyes fixed on the aquamarine of the beach ahead. when you opened the door wider to let yourself out, he already knew it was you.

  “i’m sorry, bug,” he immediately said, too ashamed to look at you.

  you were convinced that it was your hothead that drove the majority of the argument and his apology made your heart sink. you were the one who threw things at the wall and spiralled without looking back. he shot back with his own words, but you knew that you were the one who started it.

  without warning, you sat right beside jungkook and wrapped your arms around his back. you put your chin on his shoulder and he physically relaxed, as if he’d been carrying sandbags for days. you whispered an apology against his neck and held back tears.

  “you’re right. i’ve been a horrible girlfriend.” you hated how bitter the words tasted. “i’m going to do my best to fix my work-life balance. you try so hard for me.”

  TOP HEADLINE TODAY: the 2017 edition of the idol star ahtletic competition now filming in goyang!ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ   ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ   ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ   ㅤjanuary 2017

  you never felt at fault for your hot temper when jungkook’s jealous eye followed you like a lost puppy. it was just as much as a problem as your own shortcomings and it always felt like a battle of who’s more in the wrong between you two.

  everyone looked forward to each year’s edition of the idol star athletic championsips, a kind break amidst the hustle and bustle of a regular schedule. some of the more active idols took the games quite seriously, but for you and the rest of s.irens, it was several days of filming that were ultimately far more chill than any of your regular promotional activities. coming off the bora bora trip, a little relay race was next to nothing in terms of effort. 

  your group’s event was the last of the day, which left you and nayoung wandering around the goyang gymnasium for the meantime. you were texting jungkook to see if he was also free, when nayoung was called over by some individuals. 

  it was in a tent area away from the view of the spectators and cameras, which you were grateful for at an event where fans watched idols like hawks.

  “nayoung! and nova!”

  exo’s leader was known in the community to be charming and well-spoken, which didn’t surprise you when you found yourself struck immediately. you’d seen him around and of course watched him on television and online, but you could now see up close just how different the aura of a top boy group was. beside him was his fellow group members and participants for the archery event later that day, who were sehun and chanyeol.

  “y/n, this is junmyeon and sehun and chanyeol,” nayoung introduced, beaming. it seemed like her rise in popularity meant that she had begun rubbing elbows with a-list idols like exo.

  you mirrored her smile. “nice to meet you all. y/n is fine, just call me that,” you insisted, as the three of you exchanged bows.

  unlike your fellow group members, you didn’t find yourself to be much of a social butterfly. you hung out with them and your boyfriend - occasionally your boyfriend’s friends. yet, somehow, others knew you. sehun asked if you were doing archery again this year, which you weren’t. junmyeon complimented your group’s last release. chanyeol mentioned running into miseul at the airport the other day. 

  as the pleasantries were made, the floor rumbled with the roar of fans across the stands. in the middle of the arena, the rhythmic gymnastics event was set to begin and all eyes were trained on the competition. that is, all eyes except junmyeon’s, whose own eyes remained fixated on you. it was a foreign sensation to feel your heart leap. 

  “excited for the day ahead?” strained chanyeol, struggling to be heard over the mcs talking. 

  nayoung replied, “yeah! i think our group has a good shot at the relay event!”

  that was false, since you knew sooah was prone to tripping and falling, but you kept that to yourself with a muffled snicker. 

  “it’s definitely going to be a long day. . .” sehun said, yawning. 

  nayoung blew some hair out of her face. “at least it’s only one day of filmng this year.”

  you enjoyed participating in isac each year, as it was mostly fun and games, but it was stressful knowing that cameras were constantly on you. each day of filming felt like the equivalent of a week when you anticipated random fancams of you on the internet the next day, probably doing mundane things like saying hi to a member of exid.

  junmyeon spoke, “it’s going to be a long day, but there’s a thing happening at kc lounge tonight after filming and a bunch of our team is going to be there. chanyeol reserved a whole section for us - you should come.” it took you a second to realize he was now boldly holding out his phone. 

  although the words were meant to address both you and nayoung, he was directly facing you and only looked at you when he asked. you were caught off guard, having trouble finding the words to respond. junmyeon’s eyes were soft and his smile was inviting - you weren’t an idiot. you knew when an invitation was beyond friendly. even nayoung was side-eying you, following the inquiry.

  “uhm - “

  “i’d love to see you there.” it was hard to miss the once over he gave you, as his boys let out a low whistle at his suaveness. you couldn't help but notice the pink tint spreading across your cheeks. 

  the attention felt nice. you’d never been approached so boldly by a senior idol before. and he was hot. you didn’t know what to say, except that you were lingering in this conversation for way too long than acceptable.

  thankfully, the vibration of your own phone interrupted whatever sentence you were to form next. with a glance at the screen, the picture of you and jungkook stared back at you and you were left dumbfounded. why was he calling you in the middle of a live event? 

  you said, “sorry, i think i’m being called.”

  nayoung nudged you, prompting you to turn around and see that jungkook was staring directly at you from a few tents away. his expression was stone-cold and eyes burned in your direction. realizing what it looked like to him with junmyeon basically asking for your number, you groaned. 

  “you think it’s safe for me to walk over there?” you muttered into nayoung’s ear, ignoring the curious stares of the three exo members in front of you. junmyeon had now slowly retracted his phone away, now also noticing jungkook looking your way. 

  nayoung looked around. “maybe if you walk behind the tents, up against the wall,” she suggested, not missing jungkook either. 

  it wasn’t too bad of timing either, since the competition was mid-event and most individuals were preoccupied with that. you wouldn’t have approached him in public otherwise. 

  junmyeon seemed to understand what was going on and he only offered a small smile. “well, let me know. we’re stuck here all day, anyway,” he chuckled.

  you thanked him and excused yourself, following nayoung’s direction to discreetly make your way over to jungkook’s tent. 

  other than him, a few members of bts lingered around the tent, presumably warming up for their event later on in the day. well, that’s what you thought they were doing before, as they were now looking towards you and jungkook, probably witnessing the same interaction as your boyfriend. jungkook’s arms were folded across his chest when you approached and you were already not in the mood.

  “meet me in that hall,” you said as quickly and loudly as you could, not wanting an audience. 

  you turned around without waiting for an answer and jungkook waited several beats before trailing behind, just in case. the two of you found yourselves in the tunnel leading into the main stadium area, which was thankfully empty. 

  you were surprised that jungkook’s fuse was triggered, as you two just shared a nice dinner date the night before with no issues. however, the more you thought about it, his jealousy issues were rising recently - from one wrong stare at a party by a monsta x member the other night to being asked out by a music producer that worked with s.irens.  each interaction was met with rage.

  “are you alright?” you questioned, once you were out of earshot and eyesight from anyone.

  “were they being weird to you?” jungkook instantly replied, jaw clenched.

  you furrowed your eyebrows. “what? no,” you said. “they were just being friendly - “

  “you should stay away from exo, i wouldn’t trust a lot of those guys.”

  “isn’t taehyung friends with some of them?” you dryly shot back, but he ignored your sentiment and continued ranting about how male idols weren’t to be trusted.

  obviously, you and him both knew what he was actually annoyed about. you stood your ground, as you knew you didn’t do anything wrong. it was a harmless interaction and you didn’t expect the entire idol community to know that you and jungkook were dating - well, actually, you kind of did and it was a little bit weird to get the invite in such a flirtatious way, but you were not going to take part. it was shut down immediately, but here you were. 

  after another minute of jungkook going on about the interaction, you interrupted him by abruptly placing a kiss on his cheek. he froze.

  “stop it. i’m fine. he was just being nice,” you sighed, looking around to make sure nobody was hiding in the shadows. “now, can we go back to our jobs, jungkook?”

  though your boyfriend was normally quite relentless about these things, your words did snap him back to the reality in which you were putting your very careers at risk to even have this hushed conversations in the shadows. isac was all fun and games, but you were on the clock with cameras in every corner possible. your slight touch of affection seemed to also help, as jungkook visibly eased when you kissed him on the cheek.

  he adjusted his sweatshirt and sighed. “alright. i’m sorry.”

  and that was the end of that conversation, but another faded memory lost in the chaos of 2017.

  TOP HEADLINE TODAY: the 2017 bts live trilogy episode III (final chapter): the wings tour to commence next weekㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ   ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ   ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ   ㅤㅤfebruary 2017

  the bland eggshell walls of the bighit entertainment headquarters didn’t faze you. at the very beginning, it was unsettling just how hollow the corridors and nooks appeared to be, as if the surroundings belonged in a prison. you’d been in and out of the hallways over the past years, albeit often for very few reasons that were pleasant. though it was a huge maze, you memorized the path on floor seventeen.

  upon hearing the loud ding and the metal doors sliding open with ease, you stepped onto the said floor with nothing less than pure anger bubbling in your veins. you clearly made your way up here — through traffic and past the security at the front desk who always mistook you for a crazed fan — with a purpose. you weren’t going to rest until you gave jeon jungkook a piece of your mind. releasing a long sigh, the employees who took a glance up and saw the infuriated expression on your face didn’t even bother stopping you. this had become routine.

  the distinct voices of his group members, combined with one of the group’s tracks amplified through speakers and footsteps squeaking on the hardwood floors in immaculate unison, were enough to tell you that he was here.

  “jeon jungkook.”

  the chorus to ‘spring day’ came to a sudden halt. hoseok was the first person to take notice of you and stopped dancing when you appeared at the doorway. the others noticed fast and when jungkook finally looked up, someone had already stopped the music.

  the look shared by his group mates seemed to read that they knew exactly what he was in trouble for. the prompt end of the music seemed to indicate so. a scared expression flashed on jungkook’s face upon reading your own stone-cold one.

  last time this happened was when you found a pack of cigarettes in one of your boyfriend’s jackets, after he swore up and down to you that he was quitting nicotine. another time was because of him forgetting that you had a date that night. today, the rage running through your veins was due to something new.

  jungkook visibly winced every time you said his full name aloud and here, he nearly shuddered at the sound. his head hung low, like a puppy. he knew what he did wrong this time.

  “i’ll be right back,” you heard him mutter to namjoon who could only nod empathetically, arms folded across his chest as he observed the scene.

  for jungkook’s sake, the group broke out into forced conversation to distract from the two of you. seokjin pretended to ask hoseok for help with the choreography and taehyung wanted to suddenly show the rest of the group a video on his phone. meanwhile, the youngest of the group wordlessly followed you out into the hallway.

  “where were you last night?”

  the question was immediate, not even waiting for jungkook to shut the door behind him. he sighed and ran a hand through his hair. 

  jungkook asked, “did you really have to come all the way here to have this conversation with me?” exasperation laced his words like a bow, but you were unfazed.

  “well, clearly i don’t know when and where you’re busy,” you shot back, “so i had no choice but to come here.”

  he opened his mouth to speak again, but you cut him off by raising your phone to eye-level. on the screen was the private instagram of cha eunwoo, who posted several slides of content of cheonsa lounge in gangnam. the very first picture was him and jungkook, clutching a shot glass of dark liquor in one hand and a vape in another. upon scanning the screen, where you proceeded to move through the instagram post - one picture of jungkook posing with eunwoo and the bottle girls from the club and the next being jungkook holding a bottle of champagne - silence filled the air.

  jungkook’s shoulders drop in defeat. “i’m sorry, it was a last minute thing - “

  “how last minute?! i called you at ten last night, asking if we could have a movie night in,” you cut him off, “and you said you were feeling sick! you don’t look so sick in these photos, huh?”

  “i was feeling sick, i swear!” he exclaimed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “the boys called me an hour after that and guilt-tripped me into coming - “

  “oh, please.”

  jungkook huffed. “i’m telling the truth!””

  if you were being honest with yourself, it wasn’t a far-fetched idea that jungkook’s boys did, in fact, drag him out to the club the night before. regardless of that, you were more upset with the fact that he declined you, but said yes to his friends. 

  “is a night in with me too boring for you now?” you questioned, jaw clenched. “if you were going out, you could have at least asked me to come!”

  “you don’t have to come out every time with me, y/n, i need time with my friends,” he replied and sighed once more. 

  this made you even more mad. “when did i say you can’t have time with your friends?!” you didn’t like the fact that jungkook was making you out to be such a control freak.

  jungkook groaned. “i didn’t say that!”

  nothing had been the same since the bora bora trip earlier that year. sure, you and jungkook fought like any other couple, but it was never this bad and this frequent. it was as if the fight in the hotel was the first domino to a cascade of falls. coupled with your increasingly exhausting schedules and other factors affecting your relationship, such as your career-driven mindset that was prioritized over everything and bts’ rise to international fame, it was only natural that you and jungkook would only drift farther apart.

  yet, neither of you were ready to walk away. as you and jungkook continued your back and forth for several more minutes to come in the darkened hallway of bighit entertainment, you could hear the opening notes to spring day once more - his fellow members presumably giving up on waiting for him to return before resuming practice.

  i miss you, was the opening line to spring day and it physically hurt your heart to listen to, as jungkook stood just a few feet away from you and still seemed so far away. the two of you gave each other the silent treatment for the next week after.

  TOP HEADLINE TODAY: s.irens fans grow restless as the group's comeback is pushed once again, allegedly to accomodate main dancer go nayoung's filming schedule for mbc's 'far away' dramaㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ   ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ   ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ   september 2017

  for once, you and jungkook were not getting hazy heads amidst the lights of a nightclub or a packed party, but a charity ball. held at the spacious estate of a member of the family behind hyundai, it was a sight to behold and made jungkook forget that he was in the middle of seoul. he found himself in the back gardens, underneath a marble gazebo that overlooked the lush flowers and twinkling lights of the area. they shone like stars, string lights that hung all around the gardens, and jungkook wished he could share this sight with you.

  things were fuzzy with you, but jungkook held out hope that you would be able to pick up the pieces and fix things soon. after a string of fights the past few months, you had finally reached your wits’ end. it was an imploding, inevitable time bomb that was going to set off sooner rather than later. you and jungkook were beginning to butt heads more than not and one random thursday night, it was d-day.

  there weren’t too many places in the city that would be safe for even just a normal stroll with your boyfriend, which was an unfortunate truth that jungkook had to swallow for years on end. more than anything in the world, he wanted to flaunt you to the whole world to show everyone just how lucky he was. he was so in love with you and that was never going to change.

  from the moment he met you, he was smitten with your beauty and the nail in the coffin was your addicting personality that he was so naturally in sync with. to have someone so incredibly bewitching as his best friend, all jungkook ever wanted to do was scream to the world that you were his girlfriend. 

  instead, your date nights since the turn of your early twenties consisted of outings like secluded nature walks, friends’ homes, long drives, and if you were careful, the corner store at night. maybe that was why jungkook loved enjoying the seoul nightlife with you - it was a safe space where you could be with each other and with each other, the most important thing other than pounding music and letting alcohol wash away your worries.

  your last date was no different, as jungkook suggested to take a walk along the han river. you had no qualms about the suggestion - though, evaluating the place as a date wasn’t the catalyst to your agreement. you knew that there was a conversation to be had and you could have done in anywhere at that point. it’d been over two weeks since you last saw each other, as missed opportunities sipped from your fingers to sit jungkook down and have a talk about your relationship with him.

  jungkook saw you from a mile away - it was hard not to when you were literally wearing one of his hoodies. even though it’d felt like forever since the dna promotions began taking over his life and you were off filming a drama, he could always spot you in a crowded room in just seconds. you were waiting by the water, looking off into the seoul night skyline. a black baseball cap hid most of your face and you were smoking a cigarette - a habit that you eventually picked up from jungkook, despite initially chewing him out for the unhealthy habit. you eventually decided that you were also too overworked to not have a vice.

  on the other hand, jungkook had been cold turkey for a whole month. he’d grown disappointed of himself for giving in so often on ruining his health, especially as a singer. a frown tugged at his lips when he approached you, just as you were finishing up.

  your eyes always brightened when you saw jungkook, but tonight, you saw something in his own that prevented it. offering a small smile, you walked closer up without a hint of a light in your eyes.

  “hi kookie,” you whispered and pulled him into a tight embrace. jungkook always loved your scent - a strong cinnamon and vanilla smell that warmed his heart, even on breezy autumn nights like this one.

  his face was in your hair, holding you just as tight, when he realized something. something odd.

  jungkook stepped half a foot apart when the hug concluded, examining your features. “there’s something wrong, isn’t there?” he asked, as the anxiety came to settle in after you chose to hug him instead of kiss kim.

  your lips pressed into a thin line and he knew. you insisted that you two hold hands during this walk, which he wanted to refuse, but eventually decided to remain quiet about it. hands clasped, you two began to stroll south of the river.

  for a bit, you and jungkook bantered about how you stole his hoodie without him even realizing it. then, an uncomfortable silenced emerged, as you both could only listen to the light stream of the han and the passing cars nearby. 

  it was jungkook that said something first.

  you let him speak freely because on any other day, it would be a battle marked by avoidance and stonewalling. jungkook had suddenly come to a stop in the middle of the path, after the silence became too grand for him. he reached his limit, too.

  “we should take a break.”

things had been getting weird for a while now between the two of you. you were always fighting and when you weren't fighting, it was when jungkook was overseas, away on the wings tour.

  that’s when your heart began racing. “a break? you want to separate?” 

  “we obviously can’t be together. this isn’t working out. we clash too much and we’re always screaming at each other and we’re risking our jobs and - fuck, i’m sorry.”

  the rant was cut short when jungkook, after pacing back and forth as he spiralled with each word, paused in his tracks at the sight of tears streaming abundantly down your cheeks. he stopped and immediately felt the ball of anxiety at the bottom of his stomach transfigure into a heavy dread accentuated by guilt, weighing heavy on the inside. his chest began hurting and apologies fell from his lips, as he took you right back into his arms.

  “i love you, i know it’s been hard, but we can’t break up,” you hiccuped in between each short breath, barely audible when your crying face was pressed up against jungkook’s chest. “do-do you really feel that way?”

  jungkook rapidly shook his head, not even taking time to think about it. “no, i’m sorry, i didn’t mean it. i’m sorry!” he cooed, rocking you back and forth.

  after a moment of just crying from the two of you, you were finally able to catch your breath and rubbed jungkook’s back, hoping it would help him catch his. his breathing eventually slowed back to normal.

  “but, i think you’re right. . .” your voice suddenly emerged, barely above a whisper. “i don’t want to lose you. . .but we need space.”

  “i’d do anything to save this relationship,” jungkook replied and the statement brought you an unknown feeling, spreading across your mind. “whatever you think is best. i can’t lose my best friend - let’s take some time and come back stronger.”

  and that was the agreement. it had been just about a month since it happened and there was no progress since. your and jungkook’s schedules were busier than ever and it was only a coincidence that you both ended up at the same charity ball.

  for the first time in a long time, seeing you felt like remnants of a far away memory - shattered glass pieces of your relationship dancing in the air that, if jungkook tried hard enough, could be grasped at and remembered. your hair was now blonde and made longer with extensions, brushing just above your tailbone. you wore a periwinkle evening dress, soft satin mirroring the chandeliers on the high ceilings and fanned out into a flattering mermaid tail shape. jungkook hadn’t seen you with such makeup before, as you wore a cherry red lip and a sharp cateye. you looked different. . .good, but different.

  jungkook saw you in the foyer, mingling with some chaebols and looking bored. jungkook noticed that you came with sooah, presumably to represent s.irens or your company as a whole, but neither of you so much as looked at each other. jungkook grew worried that you were slowly isolating yourself from your friends. he was also worried that your bored eyes were instead tired eyes from such a hectic schedule.

  there wasn’t any way that jungkook was going to get your attention in that moment, so he instead carried on with his night as normal. he greeted friends, looked for opportunities to network, and helped himself to the fine wine. after an hour, he wandered outside to get some fresh air. then, he looked out at the beauty of the gardens and thought of you, as he strolled down the cobblestone path with a glass of red in one hand.

  he wasn’t sure how long he’d been pondering for under the gazebo, until he saw the time of his watch and realized that it was probably time for dinner to be served. jungkook sighed, stepping out of the gazebo to make his way back inside the manor, sneaking one more look at the calming moon and hoping to run into you at the party. 

  jungkook’s wishes were met sooner than expected, as he spotted you by a tucked away corner, smiling from ear to ear. he was taken aback to see the source of your giggling, being some guy he knew from the korean national football team. one of their best players, actually, as jungkook was quite a fan. he was one of the most popular athletes in the country, it was no surprise that he’d be brushing elbows with other a-listers at this charity ball. jungkook hand clenched into a fist, watching the two of you flirt away from everyone else.

  throughout your years together, jungkook was always a bit of a possessive type. in the way you were far from perfect, he also understood his own flaws. i mean there was quite a lot, like anyone else - he was also bad at communicating his feelings, often shutting down, and cared a lot about appearances.  

  none of that mattered in this moment, as he began walking straight toward you.

  in your defense, you genuinely believed that space meant that you were single. had you been the one to make a fuss about breaking up? yes, but. . .well, there was no but. it’d been years since you were able to prance around without the worries of a relationship and although you wanted jungkook back, it was admittedly freeing. 

  bae sejoon was the striker on the men’s national team and had been eying you since you walked into the estate. the two of you previously crossed paths at a lounge in gangnam a few months ago and now seeing that jungkook was not presently attached to your hip, he made the first move. it was hard to ignore - his coy smirk and athletic build that exuded masculinity. however, your only intentions were to simply ravel in the attention sejoon was willing to give to you.

  as soon as you arrived to the event, sooah already left to go greet some of her model friends in the main dining room. she didn’t ask you to join - you’d been drifting apart since the beginning of the year and moving out of the dorns. meanwhile, you planned to politely mingle with other guests, given that you were technically here because of work - despite wanting nothing more but to lay low and keep to yourself. 

  “well, maybe we should go together. can’t believe you’ve never been to the best cafe in all of seoul.”

  instead, you were batting your eyelashes at sejoon, who’d been going on about some french-style cafe that just opened up in the city. you didn’t think he was a particularly interesting guy, but he was cute. a cute distraction. 

  you said, “that sounds fun.”

  except, sejoon didn’t know that you stopped drinking coffee two years ago. he didn’t know that you found little coffee shops pretentious and too hipster-y for your liking. you forced a smile. 

  jungkook always got you pastries straight from one particular bakery. he remembered your matcha order word for word. he made fun of coffee shops that tried too hard to be different with you. he. . . . he was now right in front of you?

  you made it known to jungkook that you loved seeing him in all black. as the first kiss of autumn dawned upon seoul, he donned a long sleeve dress shirt and slacks. tailored and in the consistent shade of all black, the sight lit a fire in your stomach and you found yourself in a haze of how good he looked. 

  jungkook never hid how attracted he was to you, even after all these years of being together. he scanned your appearance from head to toe, licking his lips. it was as if there wasn’t a whole third person in your presence, as explicit images ran through both of your minds. it’d been so long since you saw each other and the tension in the air was like molasses. 

  “hi y/n,” jungkook greeted, not even looking sejoon’s way, until the other male cleared his throat. “am i interrupting something?” the glare jungkook sent sejoon was sharper than a blade.

  sejoon rolled his eyes, already realizing his defeat. “yes, actually,” he replied. 

  your eyes remained trained on jungkook until that moment, where you had to physically shake it off. 

  “jungkook, you know sejoon,” you began reluctantly, noticing jungkook’s hard planted feet.

  he only grunted in response, still not caring enough to say anything to sejoon and acknowledge him. 

  at this point, sejoon was over it. he looked at you and then at jungkook’s menacing figure, arms crossed and glare still fixed. it was as if you watched him calculating his odds during this conversation and decided there was no winning.

  sejoon turned to you, a crease in between his eyebrows. “nice chatting with you,” he said and solemnly walked away.

  you would have otherwise rolled your eyes at such a dramatic reaction if it weren’t for jungkook standing in front of you. everything about him was so mesmerizing, as the time away truly made the heart grow fonder. the smirk pressed against his lips showed that jungkook knew exactly what kind of effect he still had on you.

  “i’ve missed you,” were the words that fell out of your mouth, almost instantly, and you wanted to kick yourself. how pathetic.

  jungkook eyed you. “didn’t look like it just now,” he tried to be casual, but the sharpness in his voice was loud.

  “still as jealous as ever, huh?”

  your initial tactic was to play hard to get - even if you and jungkook had been together for years, it’d been so long since you could just flirt and tease him. it was a spark that’d been missing for quite some time now. a smile played mischievously on your lips.

  truthfully, this was what jungkook needed. he was initially despondent upon your agreement to give each other space, sulking for several days until work got too busy to be dwelling on emotions. the time away and seeing you look at another man sparked something in him, too. his lids grew heavy.

  he said, “so, this is what space means for you, huh?”

  jungkook sounded as angry as he was hungry. it set him off, as his gaze lowered further and further down your body. on any day he would be ticked off, but his feelings of frustrations today instead felt warm and inviting. you froze when he stepped closer towards you, close enough that you could simply speak in secrets. 

  “i don’t know what you’re talking about,” was all that could come out of your mouth in a heavy breath, too mesmerized to make any further attempts at wit.

  he was now just about nose to nose with you, but you couldn’t muster up the strength to meet his eyes.

  “you’re nervous.”

  “no, i’m not,” you said, edge in your voice.

  lying right through your teeth wasn’t the best strategy when jungkook could see past it like glass. you were happy to flirt and dish it out, but being so close to jungkook so suddenly left you at a loss for words. you forgot where you were for a second and when you realized that the two of you were in public, your heart began beating like a butterfly’s wings. despite this, he was bold. he didn’t move an inch, willing to risk it all. 

  jungkook let out a low chuckle. “you won’t look me in the eye. you’re nervous, baby.”

  “what do you want, jungkook?” you asked slowly.

  his gaze trailed back to where sejoon walked off to. “what was all that about?” he said.

  the answer was glaringly obvious to you, as jungkook innocently brushed a hair from your eyes and you resisted the urge to shudder at his touch. nothing in the world compared to this feeling.

  “honestly?” you began, as identical smirks began to form on both of your faces. “nothing. nothing at all.”

  that was all that needed to be said. jungkook, without tearing his eyes away from you, wordlessly took his phone out of his pocket and made a call. he licked his lips as he spoke and everything else in the world faded to grey. jungkook was a cascade of the colours of the rainbow, illuminating brighter and brighter like the sun until you were blinded from seeing anything else. he was a kaleidoscope that shone in front of you and you were emerging from a place with no light.

  it took you a few moments to realize that jungkook was calling his driver. however, as far as he was concerned, the night wasn’t over - it was just getting started.

  jungkook finally stepped away and you somehow felt so cold. “i’m going to leave out of the west wing doors. my car is there. leave out the east wing doors and walk around to meet me.” his directions were precise and somehow not commanding. tone soft and a gentle hand on the small of your back, it was the worst feeling of all.

  familiarity. comfort. home.

  all you could do was nod, your chest growing louder with excitement. both of your synergies were one and you both knew what idea came to mind. not much else needed to be said and there wasn’t a single part of you that could say no. his knowing smile was haunting.

  after parting ways in opposite directions - as if a conversation didn’t even occur -  you eventually ended up in the back of a limousine with jungkook.

  time moved oddly in between those two moments, as the only thing you could think of was jungkook. it was an addiction no different than chips across a roulette layout or a cup of espresso at the same time everyday. 

  thankfully, the driver’s partition was already up when jungkook opened the door for you, because he immediately captured your lips before you could even sit down. like second nature, your fingers found themselves in the crown of his hair and his hand held your neck like a trophy. you both stumbled, now sat - at least he was. you were already straddling his lap. he tasted like red wine and you could have indulged for forever. 

  “mph, that’s what i fucking thought,” he mumbled against your lips and you took his as an opportunity to slide your tongue into his mouth.

  his hands began hiking your previously eloquent gown up, enough that he could grip your thighs from underneath. your own hands found the buttons of his shirt, as the limousine began to speed off in what were probably going to be circles until jungkook told the driver to stop. 

  being in love was a vicious cycle that proved to be endless. this pattern would only continue from here on out. no matter how deep your passions for each other ran and no matter how addicting each others’ touches were, it only grew worse from here. more fights than lasted weeks to only be swept under the rug with a fuck and make up or a bottle of whiskey shared between you both. growing issues that were overlooked because that was your best friend. 

  your heart was no longer in it - it was trapped. all you could do was forget and forgive. all jungkook could do was beg and shower you with love. the night at the charity ball was one of many roots that eventually grew into deep seated resentment.

LATEST HEADLINE TODAY: hotel azure: what is this up and coming spot for idols in south korea and why is it so special?ㅤㅤ

[papaya-twinks]

italian blood - l.n

Warnings: Age Gap!

Pairing: Lando Norris x antonelli!fem!reader

Summary: Lando falls for Kimi’s twin sister

Kimi’s 20 in this, in order for his twin, y/n, to be 20 too. I also made 2025 into 2024 because idk what’s going on and it makes sense to me

part 2

You and Kimi were some of the closest siblings ever - going through each and every formula together, almost like a duo act. And now, with rumours circling of your brother joining F1, you couldn’t not be happy, but you also couldn’t not be hit with a tinge of jealousy. You’d been just as good, if not better, than Kimi, winning an extra F2 title than him. 

“Ciao, Kimi, Y/N,” Charles said, seeing the two of you walk down the pit lane, suits hanging low in your waist, having just finished your final practice. “Hey Charles,” you said, waving at him, “a word?”. The Monegasque nodded shortly as you waved off your brother, following the older driver into his garage. “How’s it going?” he asked, watching as you slumped against one of the tables. “Merda (shit),” you groaned, pinching the bridge of your nose. 

“Y/N, Y/N,” he said, sounding reassuring, “it will simply take time. I’ve put in my word to Fred and Carlos can vouch. Simply putting an Italian in an Italian, well, eh?” he nudged you as you shrugged. “Surely that’s what you want, no?” you asked, eyebrow raised. “Mon dieu (my god), Y/N, the meeting is it a few minutes,” Charles sighed, “let us wait til then,”. And you did so, a few bits of small talk with some engineers before moving to talk to Carlos. And then, you were called in. 

“Y/N, Y/N,” Fred ushered you and his drivers into his office as you sat down. “I’m sure you see the position I am in, yes?” he confirmed as you nodded warily. You weren’t quite sure what he was getting at, but nodded anyways, in order to speed up the situation. “We have a variety of options for Carlos’ replacement,” he continued, “Hamilton, perhaps,”. 

Wow, he was really pushing you to the edge. “And?” you said, expecting for him to tell you the outcome. “We’ve decided,” he spoke slowly, “to sign you one year,” your eyes widened, “to see how you are,”. Scrambling out your chair, you nodded before rushing out the office, finding Charles. “You got it?” the Monegasque asked, eyes wide at your reaction. “You bet!” you shrieked, throwing your arms round your friend. 

And shortly after that, a week or so later, Carlos’ departure was announced, but not your arrival. There was no doubt going to be a lot of controversy over a female racer, there already was in F2, let alone F1. The hate you already got for racing in F2 was hard enough to deal with. Of course, Charles knew, and you were allowed to tell a few people you trusted, such as your best friend, Oscar. 

“Wait wait,” he shushed you after you explained, “you’re meaning to tell me…MY best friend is gonna get beaten on track by me?”. You snorted at his words. “I believe the words you were looking for were, ‘beating YOU’,”. Oscar raised an eyebrow, following you down the pit lane. “Well, before you join the dark side…or the red side,” the Aussie said, “stay here for a bit,”. 

You scrunched your nose at his comment but followed him to his garage anyways, into the motor home behind. “Right, right,” he said, “you’re gonna need to come to this little dinner with a few drivers,”. You raised an eyebrow, “who’s coming?”. Oscar hummed, before counting on his fingers, “Charles, Max, Carlos, me and Lando,”. You knew Max and Charles, jabbing kitted a few times with Max, and you knew Carlos by extension of Charles.

However, Lando was not someone you knew. Besides, you’d never say no to food, who would? So it was arranged, you were going to meet Charles at the elevator before you left together for the fancy ass restaurant. Choosing an outfit that wasn’t too posh but wasn’t too laid back was probably going to be the main challenge. In the end, you settled on a pretty black dress and some platforms, and a bag to finish off the look.

“Hey Leclerc,” you saw your teammate waiting for you. He was wearing a simple shirt and dress trousers, so you were appropriately dressed. “Looking good, Antonelli,” he raised an eyebrow as he went into the elevator with you. You arrived at the restaurant a few minutes before everyone else, see if Carlos and Max in conversation as you sat down, smiling to them.

“Oscar’s on his way, and not sure about Lando,” Max said, handing you a menu. Your conversation was relatively easy and laid back, a few comments about the race before going onto random topics amongst yourselves. Oscar arrived and joined in with you and Charles. The only person left to arrive was Lando. “Finally, mate,” Charles looked up, seeing the young British driver behind me, wearing a white button up shirt, open at the top with a few necklaces, and black dress pants.

“Hey mate,” he leaned over you, before shaking Charles’ hand. You watched as his necklace fell in front of your eyes before he raised an eyebrow at Carlos, gesturing subtly to you. “Ah, Lando,” Charles sai,d realising Lando didn’t know of your job. “This is Y/N,” he introduced you to him, “she’s going to be the new Ferrari driver in ‘24,”. Lando raised an eyebrow, taking in your body and figure, before turning to Carlos.

“She’s your replacement?” he asked the Spaniard, as he nodded. “Right…” he turned back to you, “you have some big shoes to fill,”. You nodded, already aware. “Try to compete with you lot, then,” you shrugged. “Oh Y/N,” Max said with a small smirk, “you can try to compete with us, we’ll be lapping you,” Charles scoffed. “Yeah yeah, don’t get ahead of yourself, this is Ferrari territory,” he huffed.

You rolled your eyes at the boys arguing already before turning to Oscar who was on Lando’s other side. “Help me,” you mouthed, watching Charles on your right as Lando laughed. “You’ll get used to them,” he said sympathetically as the menu was handed to him. The dinner ended up going well, you exchanged number’s with Lando and got on his number. There was no doubt he treated you differently, but it was expected. He almost acted with caution.

“Add her to the group, mate,” Oscar said to Lando as you turned to them. “Well, it comes with a warning label,” he added your contact to it, smiling, “these guys are kinda loony,”. You laughed at his comment, you expected nothing less of the guys around you. “I’m sure you’ll fit in just great,” he nodded to you with a smile. “I hope so,”. The rest of the dinner was finished and Charles drove you home, dropping you to your apartment.

Lando was very nice, he spoke to you a lot, and made sure you felt comfortable, but you had to say, it was a pleasant surprise seeing a text from him already, as soon as you walked into your room.

You grinned at the texts, he was certainly very open to being friends, but the only way to put that to the test would be through racing. You were well aware, throughout other formulas, what competing against your friends could do to your bond with them, and testing the waters now with Lando would be too early. Your train of thoughts was broken by the sound of your phone dinging, a message coming in from your brother.

This was going to be interesting.

Shortly, the 2023 season rolled by, Max winning yet another championship and the seats were announced. Your brother, Kimi, was the new Mercedes driver, and you were the Ferrari driver. Of course, the hate was definite but you only used it to fuel you on and prove them wrong. And finally, you arrived in Bahrain with Charles and testing was to begin.

“The car’s good,” you said, not that you really had much to say, as this was your first F1 car. You were on your 15th lap so far, other drivers behind and in front of you, testing their own cars. “This is good, this is good,” your engineer said over the radio, “we need to box you for new tyres in the next lap, avoid Lando, please,” he said, making you look to your mirror, seeing the orange McLaren behind you.

You turned your head to your right, seeing Lando on your side, a small wave to you as he drove round, going into the next corner. You followed him, you knew it was testing, but a bit of racing wouldn’t hurt, right? “Y/N, what are you doing?” the engineer asked as you sped up, going round Lando on the next corner. You couldn’t see his face or anything, but you could almost sense he understood what you were doing and following you, behind you as he went down the inside on the first corner.

“Y/N, you missed the pit,” your engineer said, “we are not racing Norris,”. You huffed, it was just a bit of fun. “Sorry,” you slowed down, Lando’s car doing the same as he drove alongside you down the back straight. He held his hand up as if to say, ‘what are you doing?’ You shook your head, as if to say, ‘we can’t’. He threw his hand up, exasperated and drove off. You wanted to race him too, but maybe in the next races.

“Y/N Antonelli,” the interviewer smiled to you as you walked into the media pen. You smiled at the full name as he spoke more, “you were rapid on track, setting the fourth fastest time, just behind George, Charles and Lando,”. You grinned again, “Fourth is good an all, but we know a few of the better teams could be sandbagging,” you referred to Max without directly saying it, “and the car’s doing amazing, honestly,”.

The interviewer chuckled before he continued. “On the subject of Lando,” he said, “we saw a bit of wheel to wheel action between you two. This is testing, right?” he joked. You laughed again. “Yeah, well, he went down the inside and I was like ‘why not have some fun’?” you explained, “and he was alright with it, it was just joking around a bit,”. The interviewer hummed, “Is joking around really what should be happening?” he asked, making you raise an eyebrow, “did Lando even do it as a joke, or because you annoyed him?”.

That was the media for you. Creating unnecessary drama, as always. You didn’t say anything, your expression stoic and somewhat pissed. “Good racing, Antonelli,” a voice said behind you, making your cold expression break as you saw Lando. “Have some more of that in the race, yeah?” he shook your hand as you nodded. “Preferably when I’m in front,” you smiled as he clutched his chest. “I’m wounded,” he said dramatically. You shook your head at him.

“To answer your question, I think we both knew it was a joke,” you said triumphantly to the interviewer. This was going to be a very interesting season.

[mistydeyes]

just a cute little moment with ghost i was hoping u could write pls 🤭

imagine simon being gone on a mission and your house was feeling so empty and lonely.

So..... you decide to adopt a dog from the shelter to mend your loneliness and waited to surprise him with the new addition to the riley family!

On the other hand, Simon felt terrible for leaving you for months on end. To keep you company and protected, he brings home *drum roll pls*

another dog!!

The look on both of your faces when he comes through the door with dog in his arms and you with a little pup on your lap already 😭😭

(hope this isn't confusing lmao)

AHHH this is so cute and precious! love simon being a dog person fr fr

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summary: With Simon gone on some unknown mission, you decide to welcome a new member to the family. However, despite how much you love the friendly little guy, Simon has other ideas on pets.

pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x reader

warnings: none :)

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"Hi, Simon," you smiled through the phone. "Hello, love, how are you?" he asked and you relaxed into the plush blanket on the couch. "Mhmm, same old, same old," you said, trailing off towards the end as if you had something to hide, "but how have you been, haven't heard any updates." You bit your lip as the line went quiet for a moment, you kicked your feet slightly in anticipation. "Something you want to talk about? Sorry, it's been a while since we've gotten stable service," he said, a soft kindness in his whisper. Before you could reply, a soft bark resounded through your shared flat as a car drove down your lane. "What was that?" Simon asked suddenly, "Someone's dog get loose?" As your newest and surprise addition to the Riley family came running to your side, you struggled to hold the phone and settle him down with soft pats and belly rubs. You hadn't intentionally wanted to adopt a dog without Simon but something about the young pup at the local adoption center made your heart melt. Plus you were no stranger to managing a new pet. However, your failure to answer gave Simon a full assumption as to the current state of your home.

"Did-did you adopt a dog?" he asked almost holding his breath, "please, just tell me." With that, the secret was out and you silently cursed your all too observational fiancé. "I'm sorry," you blurted out, "it's just too lonely without you here and you know how the colder seasons make me feel." You tried to calm your excuses by cuddling up to your big-eyed, gentle Golden Shepherd but were immediately off put by the sudden laugh filling your ears from the other line. "Please tell me it's at least a guard dog breed," he said between laughs and you felt your held breath relax. "Um you could say that," you replied as you smiled down to the bundle of fur curled up to your side, "he can be menacing at times." "To the mail carrier or actual intruders?" he joked a slight hint of sarcasm on his tongue. "I'll send you a photo so you can judge for yourself," you huffed but before the conversation could continue any further, you heard the call suddenly drop.

You pouted a bit as you looked down at Bones, your newest companion for the coming months. "Smile for your dad," you said happily before sending the picture off to Simon to see eventually. At the end of the week, your phone dinged with an incoming message. "golden shepherds are not guard dogs." it said simply and you were sure to spam him with more photos of you and Bones' latest adventures.

You lazily lounged around the flat as you looked at your phone's calendar. Simon's mission had been extended 6 more months from his initial departure date and since that update, you had heard little since. You put down your phone dejectedly before filling up Bones' bowl of food and water. As you turned with the bowl in hand, you practically jumped when the door knob turned. Bones ran towards it rapidly as you chased after him, nearly colliding with your kitchen island. "Easy now," you commanded sharply, pulling him by his collar. "Guess he is a guard dog after all," a familiar voice spoke and your eyes met with Simon's. You immediately jumped to him, wrapping your arms around his neck as he levied a cardboard box into his other arm. As you reunited after many long months, you were monetarily blinded to the small bundle of fur peeking out from the top. "What's this, Simon?" you asked as you paused your barrage of kisses. "Look for yourself," he smirked, putting the box in your hand. Inside, a small Belgian Malinois began to lick your face. As you laughed giddily at the affections, Simon led you to the couch with Bones following cautiously. "Since you don't have much of a scary one here," he said pausing to pat Bones on the head, "thought he and you could use a companion." You nodded as you put the small puppy in your lap. "Well now that we have two children," you said turning to him, "you better be staying for a while now, Riley."

[the-offside-rule]

Fernando Alonso (McLaren) - Envious

Requested: yes, tumblr via dm

Prompt: Can I please make a request where Fernando is in McLaren. He just won the championship twice and he is seen to be incredibly cocky. Y/n, a TV interviewer does not like this but she does seem fond of Leiws and he gets maddddd. He decides to change for her and please make the ending cute <3 (ITS GONNA BE A TWO PART)

Warnings: cocky Fernando, jealous Fernando

Envious: part 2

Y/n tightened her grip on the microphone, trying to maintain her composure during the interview with the Fernando Alonso. His cocky demeanor had been evident from the beginning, but it seemed to intensify as the questions progressed. They had met back during Fernando's first season in F1 as she was lucky enough to grab an internship. While he at first seemed lovely and polite, his true colours had come when Y/n returned to the paddock the season after Fenrnado won his first championship. He had completely changed. "Do you think you could win the championship a third time, or do you think you've moved past your prime?" Y/n asked, before moving the microphone towards Fernando for him to answer her question.

Fernando flashed a smirk at his interviewer. "Well, you see, I'm just that good, I don't think my prime has even come yet." Y/n clenched her jaw at the first part of his answer. "Of course I think I can win it this year." Y/n rolled her eyes, masking her irritation as best as she could. "Well you have won it twice in an immensely talented grid, I believe you could." Fernando smirked. "Well it's so lovely you agree with me. It seems fairly rare nowadays." He winked. "Thank you for the interview, Fernando. Good luck." She quickly said, her relief palpable. Fernabdo blew her kiss, annoying her as ever. "That's all the media for you today, Fernando. You can-" Fernando stopped listening to his media manager once he heard the unfamiliar sound of Y/n laughing. His head snapped around quickly, only to see his new teammate smiling and laughing with Y/n. She never smiled when she was interviewing him, what made Lewis so special? Their animated conversation and laughter stoked a pang of jealousy in Fernando.

Later on in the evening, Fernando sat in the McLaren hospitality, eating his dinner when he looked out the window to see Lewis and Y/n walking together once again laughing. Lewis stood at the door whilst Y/n simply spoke to him. Fernando looked around to see if there was a camera just on the off-chance that this was for a TV bit, but not a camera was jn sight. Fernando nudged his personal trainer, gaining his attention. "What's the deal with Y/n and Hamilton?" He asked, an edge to his voice. His trainer looked out before responding. "Ive heard they've been going on dates for a few months now. Seems like she's quite taken with him."

Fernando's jaw tightened. "I think so too." Fernando mumbled. His trainer arched a brow at the spaniard. "What?" Fernando shrugged. "Don't tell me you're jealous." Fernando scoffed. "Of course not. It's just-" He paused and nodded towards Lewis. "Him? I'd say she could do better." He laughed, eating a fork full of food. "Whatever puts your mind at ease, Nando." Fernando looked back over to the pair at the door and watched as they hugged. He slapped his fork down on the table and stood up. "Im going to the garage." Fernando announced, marching towards the door. The doors slid open and the cameras began flashing with the sudden departure of Fernando. Y/n didn't even look at him and that only irked him more. He walked straight into his side of the garage and lay against the back wall, looking out onto the pit-lane.

How was he this jealous of Lewis? He was a rookie. And besides, it wasn't like he actually had feelings for Y/n. She was just a journalist. He thought to himself for a moment and closed his eyes in defeat, cursing under his breath. He did like her. Now what?

[slttygeto]

༉‧₊˚. episode 02: right here

preview: ". . . It triggered a chain of thoughts that was unstoppable like a relentless river. It sculpted its route through the toughest ground, unyielding in its attempt to carve Shuji’s touch into your memory. Now, he existed in both realms for you. A boy that had once seemed so intimidating being the subject of your dreams was your last straw. Therefore, you left."

content warning: cursing, mention of violence.

word count: 4k

➜ ┊: @softshuji @sin-and-punishment @kariatenoh @reiners-milkbiddies @citrusteaa

༉‧₊˚. reblog + comment!

➜ episode one

➜ masterlist [echoes of time]

Who would’ve known that Hanma would continue to torment you even after his departure? You haven’t seen the man in a few days, however you can count the hours you’ve spent thinking about him—of his dual toned hair, his golden eyes boring into yours. The way his grip on your hips was firm yet so gentle, a contrast to how he seemed to be living his life. His presence lingers in every corner of your mind, your goodbyes bittersweet.

He was the subject of your every dream, and when the first ray of sunlight hits your face, you are painfully reminded that he wasn’t next to you anymore—you didn’t even want him to be next to you! You start to blame your own celibacy. Your lack of action must’ve taken a toll on you if you were having embarrassing dreams of a man you barely hung out with for an hour.

As you prepare your morning coffee and plan out the rest of your day—Saturdays were for cleaning, you hated cleaning on Sundays. Even as you scribble down on your notepad, your thoughts wander away and find refuge in the forefront of your mind where your most recent dream plays on repeat.

It’s a teenager Hanma, a sight you never thought you’d see again. He looks the same, maybe a bit younger and far more excited to impose himself on those around him. It’s near sunset, Hanma drags you to the same ramen shop you visit on Fridays before heading home. He orders a tokotsu with extra pork belly and spicy miso broth, whereas you opt for your usual order of shoyu ramen. Your seats are close to one another, something you’ve learned to get used to. Hanma was a touchy person, often discarding his respect for other’s boundaries yet somehow, you were an exception of that. The only time he ever imposed himself, or his touch on you was when you were walking together and a ground of rebels dared start a fight in his neighborhood. His hands rested on your shoulders before he leaned down to whisper “stand back” in your ear—a habit you realize didn’t wither away over the years—before moving towards the group of rebels. They left defeated.

Your orders are here, and steam rises from the bowls in gentle wisps. You feel your mouth watering at the combinations of vegetables, chicken and soy sauce based broth. The texture is lighter than Hanma’s ramen, but you find that you’re more fond of the complex flavors that envelop your senses than the ones the tonkotsu offers.

“It’s hot,” he says in a deep voice, but as a teenager his voice still cracks. “Be careful.”

You’re not sure why your dream is so vivid, why it is offering so many details after a single meeting with the tall man? But you continue down dreamland lane, and you recall more specifics.

“Ah!” you hold a hand to your mouth, your spoon resting near your bowl as you start to blow out the steam from your hot meal. You should’ve listened to him.

“Told you to be careful,” he sounds annoyed, but still reaches for your face to grab it. You don’t fight back, his rough hand holding your jaw like a rag doll. “Open up.” He takes notice of your swollen lips, then you stick out your tongue and it’s reddened—clearly affected by the hot broth.

“You risked your mouth for this, silly girl.” His eyes glance up to yours and he chuckles at the way you’re glaring at him. He lets you close your mouth, but doesn’t pull away from your jaw. You’re used to him staring you down like this, it was Hanma after all. A figure shrouded in malice and darkness, holding Shinjuku’s streets in an unwavering, iron grip—one that eases up in your presence, because no one’s ever seen him act the way that he does with you. His soft stares and less unhinged persona are reserved for you and only you, and one could swear you put him under a spell. But which? And how could you? A mere conversation with him on your way out of school, offering him water and asking if he was okay despite the blood coating his clothes not being his was all he needed to lessen the glares and soften the punches.

“I want water,” you blurt out, getting yourself out of his grip and breaking the eye contact that had your stomach twisting in knots. He doesn’t look away, watches as you continue to soothe your tongue by fanning it. Getting up from his seat, he walks towards the small fridge in the corner of the shop before grabbing a bottle of cold water.

He hands you the bottle and before you could thank him properly, you feel his lips collide against yours so softly—you would never think that the boy was kissing you. Because he wasn’t, he gave you a small peck and then proceeded into his seat like nothing happened. Maybe he was aiming for the corner of your mouth, maybe he didn’t mean to get so close to you—

“I knew if I didn’t do it now, I’d never do it.” Referring to the kiss. But then again, the tapestry woven from your imagination doesn’t seem to be the result of reality blurring with fiction—but rather a trip down memory lane.

Your pen falls from your hand as you hold a hand to your mouth and lean back in your leather seat.

He kissed you. He kissed you when you were teenagers and that’s why your bond was never the same. Navigating a relationship as kids must’ve been a strange and foreign area, and instead of communicating things—you two never spoke to one another again and each went their own way.

No wonder the memories of the man had a beam of sunlight cast upon them, you felt too warm as you remembered your times with him—but to forget such a detail…You want to smack yourself on the forehead.

Something on your wooden desk vibrates and you reach for your phone all whilst trying to process what you just remembered. However, you choke on your coffee when you read the contents of the messages.

XX

you never changed your phone number did you?

Could it be him? There was no way he kept your phone number—you read that it’s an unknown sender, but for some reason your gut is telling you to text back and find out who it was.

you

who is this?

XX

why so formal, doll? It’s me.

You can see the grin behind the screen, and you get this violent urge to smack him.

you

where did you get my phone number

XX

never deleted it

He doesn’t beat around the bush as always.

you

and? do you need something?

XX

to open the door for me

What—there was no way. You scramble out of your seat and out of your office, your phone still in your hands. You’re about to reach for the entrance door until you feel your phone buzz again.

just kidding

but do look out of your balcony

This time, you’re not sure if he is telling the truth. You hesitate for a few moments, staring down at your screen. Even if he was standing outside your building, you’re not sure if this was safe. If he was safe. Then your phone buzzes again, this time he’s calling.

You answer the phone call but remain silent on the line, the sound of cars honking and random people walking past him is the only thing you hear until he chuckles and it resonates in your ear.

“I can see you hiding behind the curtains, doll.”

“What do you want?” you try to be appear harsh, stern but it was pretty obvious that you held no personal grudge against the man to be so cold with him. Perhaps a little scared with his unknown line of work that hinted at crime and illegal activities, deep down you knew that it was only a matter of time before Hanma crept his way back into your life. You didn’t want to question how he was able to find out where you live—perhaps you should.

“Did you have brunch yet?”

“Huh?”

“Food, woman. Did you eat?” the answer was no. You were in the middle of having coffee when he called, and you were planning for a rather long day ahead of you so you try to decline the offer you knew was coming.

“It’s cleaning day for me.”

“I didn’t ask that.” Why was he giving you attitude?

“Yeah, but I’m saying it.” You glare at your phone as you step away from the balcony and into your room. Subconsciously, you reach for your closet and open it to see what you could wear out for brunch.

“Alright then, I’ll drop you back as soon as we finish eating. How about that?”

“And where are you taking me?”

“You’re all about detail, doll,” he doesn’t mask his amusement. “I like that.”

Trying to hide how flustered you are, you clear your throats to change the topic—remind him of your question.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“Shinjuku Terrace city.”

The place he takes you to is a bustling culinary adventure located near the Shinjuku station. As you step into the lively dining complex, the smell of different kinds of foods hits your nostrils. The food hub offers a variety of restaurants and cafés, all lined up in order of what to try—first is a cute cat café that catches your attention, the smile that travels to your lips grabbing Hanma’s attention before he continues to walk in the direction of the brunch place.

It still feels like too much. Your lips remain sealed as he stops in front of a brunch place. Brooklyn Pancake House. With its charming façade and its large glass windows, it allows so much natural light to flood in and it feels like the coziest place to go to on a date.

Right, a date. This is what it felt like, but Hanma doesn’t say anything and neither do you.

As you step inside the shop, the large yet intimate dining space offers a cozy and inviting atmosphere. You weren’t ready to admit it yet, but Hanma had good taste in finding hang out spots. Speaking of which, you notice how he chooses the table in the deepest corner of the shop, away from people’s prying eyes. He sits so he can see anyone coming or exiting the establishment. You don’t question his decision, rather quietly sit facing him with your hands neatly folded over your lap.

“Jesus christ,” he chuckles. “You’re acting like I’m holding you hostage.”

Your cheeks feel warm as you scramble to grab your phone. “I’m not—I just—“

“It’s fine, that about you didn’t change as well.”

Your eyebrows furrow in confusion, and you’re unable to bite your tongue for too long.

“I’ve grown, you know? I changed. Why suddenly come back and try to befriend me?”

That was an amazing question, worth a hefty sum of money—because Hanma wasn’t sure of the answer. Just like the other night when you asked him about his line of work, Shuji cannot provide with an actual answer. Having a routine helps raise a teenager who develops a sense of security, improved behavior and healthy habits— none of which Hanma Shuji had at fourteen. He doesn’t remember a day where his mother wasn’t drunk, but he doesn’t blame her for it. At thirteen, he catches his father in bed with another woman. He doesn’t hesitate to tell his mom, and from then on develops a raging hatred for his old man. His father tries to crawl back into his life on many occasions, but one stands out the most to the dark haired boy.

It’s a few hours until midnight, his mother was wasted on the couch and Shuji sits at the kitchen table with a chocolate bar and one lit, thin candle. There were no happy birthdays, no clapping like the previous years—just a home that was slowly crumbling and a boy easing his way into a life of drugs and violence. He hears a knock at the door, at first not bothering to get it, when the banging intensifies is when he reaches for the door knob and twists.

“Shuji my son!” Stands the serial cheater with a pathetic look on his face. “I missed you, how are you—“

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Never had the boy spoken to his father in such tone, but the adult’s responsible and authoritative image was gone along with their memories together.

“To check on you of course--!”

That night, Hanma discovers two things. One, he is good at throwing punches. Perhaps, the best and worst thing his father’s ever done was to make him watch boxing matches with him as a kid. Two, he learns how to treat his own wounds without his drunken mother stirring awake and tossing an empty beer bottle at him.

Amidst the chaos that was his personal life, a mom that was barely present and a father having long forgotten about the family he’s made, you were the only constant in Hanma’s life. For twelve months, three hundred and sixty five days—you offered the boy what his parents failed to do for the first twelve years of his life, before eventually giving up. It’s ironic how the number twelve keeps finding him over and over again. He drops you near Okube koreatown at 9:12PM, texts you this morning at 10:12AM, doesn’t hear from you for twelve years—he hopes he doesn’t wait for another twelve to earn a seat in the comfort of your heart.

As he comes back to his senses, he notices that you’re scanning his face with a newfound curiosity—most likely wondering what’s taking him so long to reply.

“Just wanna catch up,” he grabs the menu and scans the options for coffe. “For old times’ sake.”

“Could you at least try to sound believable?” you make a face at his ridiculous statement. Despite not having seen the man for so long, you knew based on the bored expression and nonchalance about life that he hasn’t had anything exciting going on in his life for some time now.

“If I did, I’d kiss you.” He sets the menu down, now fully staring at you. “Does that sound believable to you?”

So…Blunt.

“Seriously—“

“Why did you leave?” His voice is back to its bored tone, he takes off his glasses and rubs the bridge of his nose. “You know, that summer. I know we grew apart, but why did you leave?”

“I needed to start a new chapter.” You weren’t lying, but you weren’t saying the truth either. Starting fresh, enrolling into a college in a different city—those were the excuses you made for yourself and your parents in order to convince them of this huge step. Life was a mess during your first year, you dated a guy and broke up with him after a few months. There was no chemistry, yet he still ended up being the one to take your virginity. Tumbling like a house of cards, your plans for the perfect love life and its elaborate structure fell apart by the gentlest touch of Shuji’s lips. He had been your first kiss, the first to put his lips against yours, steal away something you’d cherished so dearly—annoyingly, you weren’t mad. You remember vividly the longing you felt for his lips days after the shared kiss, wanting to feel more of his touch, wondering if a kiss on the forehead would ever happen.

It triggered a chain of thoughts that was unstoppable like a relentless river. It sculpted its route through the toughest ground, unyielding in its attempt to carve Shuji’s touch into your memory. Now, he existed in both realms for you. A boy that had once seemed so intimidating being the subject of your dreams was your last straw. Therefore, you left.

“How did it go?” he stares deep into your eyes, striving to pierce through your soul and read you to filth. You aren’t sure if he’s always been like this, or if it’s something life had to teach him. Your eyes drift to his hands, noticing the familiar sin & punishment tattoos carved onto his skin. It makes your own prickle, the ghost of a searing touch tickling the back of your hands.

“How did what go?”

“The new chapter.” He adds stress on the last two words, the hint of a smirk hovering over the edge of his lips.

“It was okay, I have some friends at work,” he seems to find that funny as he snorts.

“Those aren’t your friends, baby girl. Those are your colleagues.”

“They can also be my friends,” you glare annoyingly. You don’t like when people assume they know you better than yourself, and Hanma wasn’t an exception.

He leans back against the dark leather seat, lips twitching with amusement. “Sure they can.”

The waiter come and takes your orders—a breakfast combo of pancakes, eggs and bacon for Hanma, and pancake stacks for you. He opts for a double espresso and you choose a café latte. The conversation afterwards is very limited, but neither of you seem to mind the silence. You notice how Hanma glances at his phone more than a few times, typing not so aggressively on his screen. It makes you wonder yet again—what does he do for a living?

Your food comes and you eat it silently, Shuji steals glances at you to assure that you’re enjoying the food and is amused when he sees the expression of happiness painting your features. The pancakes are light and airy with a hint of sweetness that complements the velvety smoothness of the butter. You feel like you’re floating, indulging into a celebration of comfort before you’re brought back to reality.

When it’s time to leave, Hanma’s hand finds the small of your back. A gesture as natural to him as breathing, and you fold like a house of cards in a soft breeze. You let him guide you to the car, and the silence finally comes to a halt once the door to the driver’s side opens.

“Thank you for the food.”

Hanma seems to freeze at your words, but he recovers quickly and starts the car. Without sparing you a glance, he drives off. “It’s nothing.”

“Did you stay in touch with some friends from back then?”

“Yeah, Chifuyu and I are kinda close but he works abroad so we never got the chance to meet.”

Chifuyu Matsuno. The name is more than just familiar, Hanma knows the man personally. He remembers him in his teenage years as this annoying blonde guy who would always interfere on his missions, and as Toman grew and spread its vines over the streets of Tokyo, dominating each corner, the two men were forced to interact more than either of them would enjoy. They barely acknowledged each other’s presence as kids, which was also the case for them as adult men. But upon hearing Chifuyu’s lie, Hanma can’t help but wonder just how little you know about gangs in Tokyo.

“Works abroad hm,” he taps his fingers on the steering wheel at a red light, glancing at his watch. “Did he tell you what he does exactly?”

“I never bothered to ask,” you admit. Sure, you stayed in contact but everytime you tried to ask the dark haired male what he does abroad, he would switch the topic to something else. So you dropped it. A part of you was uneasy about the whole thing, how he disappears for days and then randomly texts you from a new number—tells you it’s temporary before switching back to his old phone number.

As a law abiding citizen, you are no expert when it comes to running away from the law. However, you’ve always suspected that the group of delinquents Chifuyu and Takemichi would hang out with were up to no good, even as teenagers. Revenge crimes, visceral and intense fights. It was ruthless back then, the teenagers combatting one another with a ferocity that left you disinterested and repulsed.

Moving back to Shinjuku refreshes your memory a bit. Years spent away from your hometown made you forget about the violence you had witnessed as an adolescent. Prior to meeting Hanma Shuji, Chifuyu boasted about Toman all the time. He had introduced you to the concept of biker gangs, mentioning each and every name he could remember. Black dragons, Tenjuku, Valhalla—and obviously the one he was in. A notorious and influential force on the streets of Tokyo, operating under the command of Sano Manjiro himself. You understood the pride Chifuyu took in belonging to such a well organized biker gang, perhaps finding it fascinating that they were able to function within such structured hierarchy.

Upon hearing that Chifuyu lost his friend in one of these brutal fights, you lost interest in them. But the names are like shadows that forever linger at the tip of your tongue.

Before leaving Tokyo, you had heard that Toman was spreading. Like a creeping shadow of dusk, it’s enveloped the town. Its influence a ferocious power that couldn’t be stopped but the thought of it performing illegal activities never crossed your mind. You’d turn on the TV every once in a while and frown when there’s yet another morbid announcement.

Breaking news: "Two people identified to be 26 year old HINATA TACHIBANA and 25 year old NAOTO TACHIBANA tragically die amidst a violent clash between two rival gangs, one of which identified as the Tokyo Manji Gang."

Your memory is like a dusty attic and upon hearing the familiar name, your heart stills. Like a treasure long forgotten, craving to be discovered, Toman reappears at the forefront of your mind. A timeworn tapestry, each thread holding the echoes of past and barely any interactions with the biker gang.

Reaching for your phone, your thumbs hover over the screen, contemplating whether you should start typing the message. Surely, you were wrong. There was no way for someone as sweet as him to be involved in such monstrous group of people.

hey

you haven’t texted me in a while

how’s everything?

You received a response five days later from an unknown number. It served as proof to confirm your suspicions.

Glancing back at Hanma, your eyes take in every small detail about the man. From his freshly shaved beard, his sharp jawline and cheeks littered with barely visible acne scars—to his lips that happen to sit in their usual frown. His lashes are surprisingly long, they flutter against his cheeks every time he blinks. Stealing a quick glance at his neck, there’s a tantalizing glimpse of dark ink peeking from beneath the fabric of his top. You let your brain go over the never ending possibilities of what could be adorning his skin, somehow leading you down a path of sinful fantasies—you pinch your own thigh.

He exudes an aura of authority and power, his confident and composed demeanor enhancing his charm. For now, you leave the subject of his work at the table and walk away from it with a shadow of doubt. You’ll come back to it when ready.

You ignore the gnawing feeling that you should look more into it, that youu should press him about the matter. Clearly, he's not ready to talk about it.

Or he simply can't.

➜ ┊: here's chapter 2! i have a whole list of headcanons concerning shuji's past or rather childhood and none of them are happy. but you'll notice that stuff like that comes haunting him back as an adult. anyway, hope you enjoyed reading!

2024 © all works belong to @slttygeto. do not repost, translate or steal any of my works.

[sugoi-writes]

(Preview) Trigger Happy, Part 2

SOOOOOOO I reread Trigger Happy for like, the first time after posting it. And my god, it kinda DID things to me. So without further adieu, here is a sneak peek/prelude to Part 2. It's extremely fluffy. No content warnings for this one, other than implied spicy thoughts ( @ieatcocoa I blame you, in the BEST WAY)

MDNI, or I'll cut you

🩸🦌🩸

A few months had passed since your last weekend trip to the cabin. The crisp air of Autumn had been corrupted by the cool embrace of Winter. For Louisianians, there would be no white Christmas, but the promise of chilly mornings and frosty nights lingered with the season.

Life had ultimately gone back to 'normal' for the both of you, as if the tumultuous chase has never happened. Alastor's radio show swung without a hitch, gaining traction with his extensive coverage of the famous 'Bayou Butcher'. Meanwhile, you were performing particularly well at your own job, a promotion lining up for your hard work. Life had improved drastically. 

But... even in the heat of your success, the both of you started to become stir crazy. In your efforts to work harder, the both of you neglected your sanity. All of this for the sake of being 'better off', the both of you had decided. At least you both agreed on one thing: a short getaway was long overdue. Your recommendation for a cabin-filled weekend delighted your overworked partner. And so, you both had worked your magic to make the getaway happen.

🦌❤️🦌

It was Friday morning, just an hour after Alastor got off of work. (Thankfully, he had managed to switch prodcasting times with another coworker, guaranteeing an early departure). When you had packed the last of your bags, you snuck back to your closet once more. Pushing over copious amounts of clothing on the rack, you finally pull out what you'd been looking for: a white linen gown with lace trim... Or at least, it used to be white... It was the dress you wore during the last 'hunt'. 

The fabric was weathered, rumpled, and looked quite horrific, if you were being honest. You felt the heat rush to your cheeks as your fingers brushed over the fabric, erotic memories flashing across your mind. The heavy thuds of footsteps, the smell of the dank bayou, the crunch of withered leaves... And yet all of these memories paled in comparison to him. 

Alastor. 

His heated touch, labored breaths, and manic, brown eyes nestled deep into your debauched dreams. Dreams that you found yourself longing to relive...

You bit your lip, debating if you should pack the dress. You wondered if this would be subtle enough, or if your secret desire for a part two was too 'on the nose'. 

This thought was disrupted by the bedroom door creaking open, and the sound of Alastor's silky, serene voice. 

"Darling, are you almost ready? I've gotten everything else in the trunk so far--" 

Alastor catches you glimpsing at That Dress, his back stiffening as memory lane hits him. Hard. 

He grins soon after, his smile cat-like as he wanders over to you. You're quick to hide the dress behind your back, stammering an excuse. 

"Y-Yes, I have everything-- just-- just thought about this old thing, y'know? I may need to toss it. This filthy thing has been through enough… It's just hanging here, collecting dust." 

Alastor clicks his tongue against his teeth, chuckling at your horrible attempt to deflect,"Dear, why would you want to get rid of this relic? I rather like the dress, you know~" When you avoid his gaze, Alastor sighs dramatically. He reaches behind your back, gently tugging the garment out of your rigid grasp. You can’t help the sheepish noise you make when he slings the dress over his shoulder, letting it hang off of him like a disheveled shawl. 

"Check the back of the closet, dear. In my garment bag," Alastor offers gently, stepping up beside you. You squirm as Alastor places a kiss on your temple and an impossibly large hand on your waist," I have something for you; perfect for the occasion, I'd say." 

You blink in surprise, throwing him a questioning look. Money wasn't exactly tight in your household, but the gesture surprised you all the same. A gift… for you? 

You're met with a beautiful sight. A pristine, red nightgown that made an apple look pink. Upon touching it, you realize it was satin; much nicer than the cotton one you originally had. Your mouth fell agape, your eyes widening in tandem. Dumbfounded at the sight, you hardly moved as Alastor kissed your cheek again. His sincere smile only grew as he gave your waist an affectionate squeeze. 

You follow his suggestion obediently, rummaging carefully until you hit Alastor's bag. While it usually hosted his dry clean-only suits, you noticed that it was uncharacteristic thin. Paper-thin, even.

You take down the bag from the bar gingerly, heart racing with curiosity. Alastor was just as eager, watching you with baited breath as you eased the zipper down. 

"Better to be prepared than not, right~?" Alastor mused, taking your free hand. You finally look his way when you feel a featherlight kiss press to your knuckles.

"This is--" 

"Yes yes, darling, it is. I figured it's only fair that you were dressed in my colors this weekend~" Alastor all but purred, his eyes full of mischief.

"Alastor, it's... Really beautiful. I hope it wasn't too much--"

Another kiss, this time just above your knuckles. A trail of sweet, deceivingly innocent kisses started to ascend your arm. Ever the cheeky man, Alastor was. 

"My love, nothing is ever too much for you. Think nothing of it. Simply wear it... It would make me very happy to see you in it."

You comtemplated his words, really taking them in. Like the lush fabric of the nightgown, you felt... Soft. You were almost liquid smooth, a flush festering on your skin under Alastor's affections. When he had kissed all the way up to your cheek, you turned to meet his lips with your own, smiling blissfully. Thankfully, Alastor didn't seem to mind the interruption

"Well, I guess I can't say no when ask me so sweetly... 'Can't let such a pretty dress go to waste, then~" you chime, giving Alastor another kiss. In fact, to air on caution, you zip the laundry bag closed, tucking it under your arm. You wouldn't want to risk ruining it before Alastor got his chance to...

"And," you added, a renewed glee coursing through you,"I think I'm ready to head out now~" 

Alastor reflects your smile, pressing a firm kiss to your lips to seal the deal.

"Off we go, then. Oh– and I think we should take the scenic route this time, if that’s alright..." You practically giggle as your arm is taken into his, allowing your beau to lead you out of the bedroom. 

"Honey, I would love nothing more." 

🦌🩸🦌

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Running from the Flames {3}

Pairing: Pierre Gasly x OFC Summary: Brianna Vowles grew up on the paddock. It was what filled every weekend. There were endless trips around the globe with her father and Uncle Otmar in Formula One, until she went to college. Suddenly her life revolved around studying and boys, one of whom wasn't as nice as he had appeared. Five long years later, with a hiatus in between, she graduated with her engineering degree and had decided to use her VIP pass to see if life in the fast lane had changed. Warnings: 18+ only, domestic violence survivor, lots of drama and fluff, this is a work of fiction and the events are not based on reality. Chapter: One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || Seven || Eight || Nine || under construction

Adelaide walked sleepily from the bedroom until she saw Pierre, then she rushed across the room and barrelled into his legs. “Hi Pear!”

“Bonjour, princesse,” he greeted as he picked her up.

She was quick to steal the blue and white Alpine hat from his head and flopped it over hers until it swamped her dark curls to hang over her eyes with a giggle.

“You’ll be lucky if you ever get that back now,” I warned as I went to the kitchen and cut up some fruit for her. She had quite a collection of memorabilia from when we visited Kelly and Max but her favourite was a Mercedes cap she bribed from Lewis with a half eaten raw carrot when we went to Brackley for the day because my dad had a meeting and it had been months since we last saw him in person.

“You can have that one, I have lots of them,” Pierre said as he straightened the hat and met me at the table so Addie could sit and eat.

“What do you say, sweetheart?”

She shoved a handful of mango into her mouth but it didn’t stop her from turning to Pierre and saying, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he replied with a suppressed laugh.

Addie picked up a slice of apple and offered it to Pierre, pouting when he politely declined. “Share, please,” she said as she lifted it closer to his lips. She laughed triumphantly as she guilt tripped him into eating the piece and I shook my head with a laugh. “Don’t like apples.”

“But they are good for you,” I reminded her as I walked past and bent over the back of Pierre’s seat so I could whisper, “She played you like a violin.”

“I happen to like apples, so it was a win-win,” he replied with a cheeky grin and shared a high five with Addie. “Don’t eat too much, we are going out to a special dinner and I know there will be lots of desserts.”

Addie pushed the plate away and scrambled away from the table to go back to the bedroom. Pierre looked a little confused by the abrupt departure but just as quick as she left she came back with her suitcase dragging behind her.

“We aren’t going to dinner right now, sweetheart,” I said when she unzipped the bag and started rifling through the clothes until she found a purple dress covered with butterflies.

She held the dress up to her and twirled around the room, the colour making her ice blue eyes pop brightly. “Can I wear this?”

“Yes, but find a jacket for when it gets colder.” She wasn’t impressed with the idea of a jacket and instead ran off to the room to get dressed.

“She’s very independent,” Pierre commented as I took a seat beside him at the table.

I snorted a laugh thinking he didn’t know the half of it before covering my mouth at the unladylike sound. “Oh god,” I mumbled as I covered my face but Pierre just grinned when he pulled my hands away.

“Don’t be embarrassed,” he chuckled, “it’s cute.”

“Just pretend you never heard it,” I begged and he draped an arm over the back of my chair with an innocent look on his face.

“Heard what?”

I sighed gratefully and sent him a smile as the flames on my cheeks receded. “Thank you.”

“Do you want to go for a drive before we head to the boat?” he asked after checking the time on his phone.

“Boat?” I questioned, looking down at the thin material of the dress I wore. “The team dinner is on a boat?”

“It’s a big one,” he confirmed, thinking I was worried it was going to be a small dinghy. I completely forgot about getting changed into something warmer when Addie came running back into the room, barely missing the doorframe in her haste.

“Look at me!” She held the skirts of the dress out as she spun around and looked like a little princess except that she was still wearing Pierre’s hat.

“Very pretty, but maybe the hat can stay behind,” I tried to suggest but she planted her hands on her head to stop me from taking it away and darted out of my reach. “Okay, fine, Poppa will like it anyhow.”

I grabbed my handbag and checked I had the essentials for the night before convincing Addie to use the toilet. Her carseat was already waiting beside the door where I had left it after the taxi ride from the airport and Pierre picked it up easily while I was helping her get her shoes on.

“I think that is everything,” I stated as I grabbed the room keycard and slipped it into my wallet. “Probably a bit more than you are used to?”

“Not really, Ocon doesn’t travel light either. Did you all carry this in by yourself?”

“Dad sent some poor intern over from FIA, but normally I manage on my own. You just get used to it, you know.”

He fell quiet as we walked to the elevator and Addie took a hand of us both, suddenly dropping her weight to swing between us. Pierre had quicker reactions than I did and caught her weight before she could hit the carpet, sparing us both from hearing her tears that would have undoubtedly come from grazing her knees.

The reprimand faded as she grinned at Pierre and I didn’t want to taint the moment of joy when I remembered how I used to do the same to my parents when I was younger. This was the first time that she got to experience that and I wasn’t going to take that away from her.

“Again!” she demanded as she stopped walking before running forward and swinging. This time I was prepared and we swung her higher before she was safely back on the ground.

My arm was aching by the time we reached the elevator and I was grateful for the reprieve as it went down to the basement where Pierre had parked. I hadn’t even thought to ask what he drove and if it was even suitable for a child car seat but I was pleasantly surprised to see it was a practical Audi Q8.

“For a second I was worried it was going to be a 2 seater,” I admitted when he unlocked the luxurious SUV. “Is it terrible of me to assume that you would only own a Ferrari or McLaren?”

Pierre’s head tipped back with a laugh that echoed across the car park. “Absolutely, if it wasn’t true,” he said with a wink. “Can’t show my face in Monaco in a rival car, so I came in the Audi.”

He opened the back door and placed the car seat inside before scratching his beard. “Uh, how’s this work?”

I showed him how to anchor it in place while he joked that it was more technical than his racing harness, only for him to find the next battle was even harder.

“No, Addie, stop playing, put your arms in,” I said as we wrangled her into the car seat and tried to keep her still long enough to buckle the harness around her. Finally we were triumphant and I climbed into the front seat as Pierre walked around to the drivers side.

It was impossible to look away when Pierre made even just something as casual as walking look good. He could easily have been a model if he didn’t get into formula racing, especially when he ran his hand through his hair and sent a smile my way. It was impossible to resist his charm and it wasn’t even intentional on his part - he was just so likeable.

“East or west?” he asked as he started the car and put it into drive. I supposed even professional drivers wanted the simplicity of an automatic car sometimes.

It had been a while since I drove around Monaco. Most visits had been spent at the FIA track headquarters while dad got ready for the big race, I never came here purely for leisure so I had no idea what was in either direction. “Surprise me.”

“Woah, no pressure or anything,” he joked before pulling out of the parking garage and heading east. He drove along the coastline and I marvelled out the window at the sheer amount of super yachts on the shimmering water.

“That's a bit ostentatious, I can see the Red Bull boat from here,” I commented as the black and red hull stood out among the rest. “Oh, and there’s Lewis’ one. You’ll have one out there soon too.”

His eyes darted across the car to quickly peek at me before he turned back to the road. “You think so?”

“If it’s what you want, I think you can make it happen.” I reminisced on the words of encouragement I had received throughout my formative years. “You’re only limited by your own determination.”

“Otmar?”

A grin parted my lips and I nodded. “Did he give you the same speech too?”

“Every time I get in the car.”

“How about ‘be patient and the opportunity will come’?”

Pierre laughed at the quote. “It’s a favourite of mine.”

“Damn, here I was thinking I was special.”

My playful pout earned another smile and he reached across the console to take my hand. “I know I may have just met you, but I think you’re pretty special.”

Butterflies erupted in my stomach, their flutterings making me giddy as I giggled, a sound I didn’t know I could make. “Are all French guys this cheesy? What a pick up line, and with the accent - 10/10.”

He dropped a lopsided grin and looked at me as we waited at a red traffic light. “Tu t’appelles Google? Parce que je trouve en toi tout ce que je recherche.” (French: Is your name Google? Because I find in you everything that I’m looking for.)

I burst out laughing and shook my head. “Do you just have these filed away in that brain of yours?”

His eyebrows almost disappeared beneath the waves of hair hanging down. “You understand?”

“Of course!” I gasped with mock offence. “It's practically an unwritten rule in F1 to learn the holy trinity: Italian, French and Spanish.”

“Tu lo capisci?” (Italian: You understand this?)

“Sí, y vas a probar mi español también?” (Italian: Yes, Spanish: and are you going to test my Spanish too?)

“Was that Spanish?” he asked as wove between the traffic and parked in front of a small waterfront playground. “I have no idea what you said but it sounded good.”

“I should hope so. My mother is Mexican and she would probably disown me if I wasn’t fluent.” Pierre looked a little stunned at the news and I laughed as I waved a hand over my body. “I wouldn’t be able to maintain a year round tan in England without her wonderful genes. Thankfully, Addie seems to have got them too, except for her eyes.”

They were the only feature of her father that I could see in her, the ice blue coming from Erik’s nordic heritage while mine were a russet brown. Everything else she had inherited from me, from her dark brown wavy hair to her olive skin. A small part of me was grateful I didn’t see more of him in her, a thought that made me immediately feel terrible because she could look exactly like him and it shouldn’t matter. She was not her father.

Addie was kind and sweet, and she would be raised to know that love didn’t come with stipulations and threats. If it did, then it wasn’t love.

“I thought maybe you got spray tans, like those women on Love Island,” he teased and I punched him on his arm only to feel the hard muscle hiding under his shirt.

“No hitting!” Addie shouted from the back seat and I dipped my head to hide my smile.

“You’re right, baby, that was naughty,” I conceded and unbuckled my belt so we could go explore the playground.

She wasn’t satisfied as she frowned and pointed to Pierre’s arm. “Kiss better.”

Pierre clutched his arm and began to wail about the pain dramatically. “It hurts so bad, I don’t know if I can race tomorrow.”

“Don’t quit your day job for acting,” I warned as I leant over the console and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek, the stubble of his short beard tickling my lips.

“She was convinced,” he pointed out with a wink to Addie who was clapping in the back. “Wanna go to the park, princesse?”

There was no way a two year old was going to deny the chance to run around after having a nap and being confined to a hotel room. She was so excited she could hardly keep still long enough to free her from the car seat before sprinting ahead of us and straight to the swings.

Click here for chapter four.

[smooth-perceval]

“Stealing hearts aside.”

Carlos Sainz x Fem!Reader.

PART TWO

[Part 1]

Summary: [Reader is attending a GP for a “date” but her “date” leaves her wandering around the pit lane alone. Until she bumps into a very cheeky driver].

The reader meets Carlos at the airport for a goodbye, Carlos tries convincing reader to come with him.

Warnings: swearing, hints of smut? Maybe…idk, but no smutty scenes, Google translate, no proof read, my bad writing.

Key: Y/N (your name) Y/L/N (your last name) Y/J/C (your job choice)

Word count: 3,444

A/N: Long awaited part two, let’s pretend Carlos won in Austria🥲 also- anyone seen the film ‘my best friends wedding’?? Well I watched that and I got an idea- but separate imagine anyways 🙂🖤 Hope you enjoy.

I love Carlos x Reader atm goodnight 🏎️🌶️

I woke early the next day, ensuring I got to the airport on time before he leaves…

Crazy right? Yesterday I hadn’t the slightest idea who this man is- and today I’m saying goodbye to him at the airport?

It’s all like a movie. He really is some kind of Prince Charming and I was the helpless princess who had been waiting for someone like him- and all that blah blah blah.

Shaking my head at myself, really trying to silence the silly comments in my mind. I got dressed quickly, opting for a hoodie for some form of disguise- I don’t know… do I bring some sunglasses? Huffing I threw my hands in the air storming into the bathroom to clean my teeth, put some light make up and brush my hair out, choosing to leaving it down in its natural form. I was a girl on a mission… eager to see him just as much as he is me- or so I hope.

I texted Carlos telling him how long I would be- roughly over an hour the nav is saying, and made my way to the airport.

My stomach was churning, I was nervous to see him again- yet I couldn’t wait… what do I do when I see him? Is a hug to much? Will it be to awkward if I waved from a distance? I should congratulate him first-

Groaning I turned the volume up silencing myself once again.

You’ll know when you get there Y/N.

When I arrived I parked up grabbing my phone and reading Carlos message.

“🚘los x”

Ring me when you get here x

Doing as he says I called his number sliding out my car and locking it in the process, after two rings he picked up.

“Your here?” Laughing down the phone at him I nod my head.

“Otherwise I wouldn’t have called…”

“Oh sí- okay where are you standing?”

Humming I look around. “I’m near the departure drop of- let me find the zone-” I walk closer to the airport looking around at the signs.

“I’m in zone b departure.” I turn looking through the glass of the airport.

“Wait there-”

“Where are you…?” I squint my eyes at the windows trying to see if I spot him.

“I’m in zone A, I didn’t want to check in yet otherwise I can’t come back to see you.”

Smiling to myself a small blush crept to my cheeks… he says things like that without realise the effect it gives-

I started walking in the direction that pointed to zone A, and on the other line I hear a slight huff from Carlos- who I can only presume is jogging now.

“I think I’m heading the right way-” and as if on cue I see him, with a few security trailing behind him also.

And even while jogging he made it looked so good- as if in a trance I removed the phone from my ear ending the call and ticking it securely in my pocket.

My feet quickened and I was in a speed walk towards him- within seconds both of us colliding.

His arms was tight and secure around me, my head was buried in his chest breathing in his sent- trying to etch the smell into my brain as it’ll be a while before I could be this close to him again-

“Congratulations on your win.” Mumbling against his chest I squeezed him tighter before pulling back- not fully, my hands still on his waist, and my head tilted up looking at him. “How long before your flight?”

“I gotta leave in a few minutes to get through security at that…” smiling sadly at each other I pulled him back into a tight embrace.

“Come with me.” I barely heard him above the ruckus around us- even so my heart pounded against his chest- like it wanted to collide with his.

“I can’t-”

“You can… please.” Leaning back I look up at him. “Carlos my job, I can’t just jump on the next flight without giving them notice.”

“So if you didn’t have a job…” quirking his eyebrow at me causing me to laugh a little. “That’s not what I mean…”

“I just mean- you met me yesterday, and now your asking me to come to Austria… it’s a bit crazy don’t you think.”

He just stared at me no response at all, like the craziness was finally settling in- like he realised how crazy it all is.

“I don’t think so.”

“What?! You don’t think it’s crazy- are you crazy?” Laughing a little bit more stepping back his fingers brushed against mine before interlocking them.

“My mamá, always said when you know you know.” (Mum) smiling sweetly at him, I placed one hand against his cheek leaning up and kissing his other cheek softly.

A smile broke out on his face, pushing the side of his head against my lips.

“I don’t want to go-” both laughing quietly we finally separated.

“Good luck- I’m only a call or text away-” rolling his eyes at me, he finally let our hands go. “You better be watching.”

“I definitely wouldn’t miss that for the world” finally satisfied with my answer he left me outside reeling in his touch, his smell, his sickly sweet words.

Why the hell is a guy I’ve known for less than 24hours got me twirling my hair and giggling like a school girl. He got my heart so full it was ready to burst- I love this horrible feeling.

Practically skipping back to my car, I sat there staring at the airport.

“When you know you know.”

Tapping away at my steering wheel I pull my phone back out my pocket checking flights…

Maybe if I gave work a few days notice- I could get there before the race on Sunday and just take the Monday off… no your crazy.

I switched my phone back off starting my car up, before my phone signalled.

“🚘los x”

Is it bad I miss you?

And there the butterflies came again.

Is it worse that I haven’t even left the car park…

“🚘los x”

I think you should catch a flight with me.

I think you are crazy 😂

“🚘los x”

About you mi amor? Yeah I think I am too 😉 (my love)

You can’t see it but I’m shaking my head at you,

have a safe flight chili ❤️

**seen**

My journey back home was quiet to say the least… I drove over an hour to spend about 5 minutes with a guy… who is now catching a flight to another country- and from there probably to another country I don’t entirely know- all because he simply asked.

Now I’m even considering taking a day off work for him- I must be going insane…

Shaking my head at myself, I pushed the thoughts to the back of my mind… focusing on getting home in time to start work.

The day flew past you could say, Carlos sending a few messages throughout the day, whenever he got a chance to- and insisting he called this very evening. Which of course I didn’t mind- hello?

When I finally got home I quickly ate and then took a shower getting ready for bed, and secretly waiting eagerly by the phone for him to call.

But as time went on I didn’t hear the phone sound once, and when it did it was only emails or game notifications… no Carlos.

I sent him another message only asking if his okay- seeing as there hasn’t been any contact for hours… and truth be told I was worried for him? Was he okay?? Did he just forgot and got some well needed rest? Or was it something serious- I was panicking a little…

Another hour went past and there was still nothing- and in that hour I must have dozed off on the sofa, clearly exhausted from the airport ‘meet’ the tv had turned itself off, and the room was dark, little patters of rain hitting the window, breaking up the heatwave we have been having-

Jolting up from the sofa I grabbed my phone that was ringing out answering it without thought. The first thing I said was-

“Carlos?” My voice was slightly croaky from the sleep my eyes still adjusting around the dark room.

“Did I wake you?!” A little gasp come from his end of the line, only causing me to yawn and lay back onto the sofa.

“It’s okay… are you okay?” My eyes closed, listening to the little cracks in the line and faint buzzing sound.

“I’m sorry… we had a lot of PR stuff-”

“You don’t have to explain yourself- just are you okay?”

“I’m fine, im fine- I’ll let you get back to your sleep Mi querida.” (My darling.)

“Please stay on the phone…” barley above a whisper I rolled over getting more comfortable on the sofa grabbing the blanket that was kicked to the end pulling it up to my chin.

“Really?”

“You don’t have-”

“I want to!” He practically shouted down the line causing me to pull the phone away slightly, before laying it down next to me putting it on speaker.

“Let me just get into bed also-”

The sounds of rustling was heard before a loud sigh.

“You still there?”

“Mhm…” with my eyes closed, warmth of the blanket and Carlos voice sounding like a lullaby, I felt myself relax… nearly asleep.

“I don’t know what to do” humming in response cracking an eye open to make sure I’m not dreaming.

“With what?”

“With well- us?”

“What about us?” Curiosity peeked my ears as I leaned closer to the phone.

“I just don’t understand what you’ve done to me, I woke up thinking of you, I’m going to sleep thinking of you, the whole day today I kept thinking about what your doing- how you are, that’s why I tried texting so regularly… i just…”

The line went silent and my heart really melted, I was practically cradling the phone.

“You just?”

“I just want you with me 24/7- can you believe that? You have literally bewitched my heart and soul- I don’t know what to do, and even so it’s not a bad thing that I am like this- it’s just crazy what you have don-”

“Carlos-” cutting him off with a small laugh escaping my lips. He finally quietened down.

“I’d say we are both hopelessly devoted to one another...”

He hummed letting out a deep breath afterwards.

“I love the feeling…”

“Me too.”

“I miss the feeling of you though.” I could hear the smirk in his voice, causing me to roll my eyes and close them afterwards.

“Anyone would.” Mumbling my response, I caused Carlos to laugh, a very hearty laugh that made my body flutter.

“Are you falling asleep?”

“No…” yawning and stretching my body once again.

“I’ll let you go…”

“No please stay…” it was a plead- a plead for sanctuary- a plead for some like him to talk to a girl like me.

“You want me to stay on the phone while you sleep?”

“Is that so weird…?”

“I think I need to marry you.” I let out a tired laugh. “And I thought I was crazy to chase you down in an airport.”

“That was quite crazy.”

“You asked me to-”

“You didn’t have to.”

“But-”

“Ah- ah. I didn’t force you to the airport. You showed up on your own doing. Why?”

“Because you ask-”

“You could’ve said no and stayed home. But you said no and turned up anyways- Why?”

“I don’t know…”

“Because you feel it too.”

“Feel what?”

“This yearning for one and another.”

Sighing into the phone, I closed my eyes listening to him talk- he really was my lullaby.

“You feel it, no?”

“Yes I feel it.” Softly spoken into the phone, the line fell silent. And that’s when I knew- work doesn’t matter truthfully. Having a feeling like this was better than any kind of money.

And I need that feeling- that thrill, the adrenaline, everything I had this morning I needed.

“Carlos?”

Humming in response as a sign to continue, I paused once again.

“I change my mind…”

“About what?” It was his turn to yawn now-

“I want to see you.”

“Well we can FaceTime- no? I might fall asleep though…” laughing a little I smile shaking my head.

“No no- in person.”

There the silence was again- and with each passing second my heart drummed quicker. Did he not want that anymore?

“Here?” Confusion evident in his voice.

“Yes there- you no where near here.” Laughing quietly, I pulled the phone closer.

“Well?”

“Mi querida.” (My darling) He sighed once again into the phone- more like a sigh of relief.

“I’d love nothing more.”

Smiling to myself- I chewed onto my bottom lip, there really is no feeling like it.

“Okay- I’ll try and get to you as soon as I can-”

“Okay, I’ll let you go- I’ll speak to you in the morning?” Humming happily I nod my head.

“Goodnight Carlos”

“Night mi querida.” (My darling)

The line fell dead- and with the spurt of happiness I quickly seeked out clothing to pack. The smile not once dropping from my face.

**9P.M. SATURDAY NIGHT**

@yourinstaname posted to her story.

Tired, and annoyed. I sat alone in the airport… another delay to my flight- Carlos was asleep seeing as the race is tomorrow, and I insisted I didn’t want to be some form of distraction. My work was absolutely wonderful, they allowed me to take a few days off next week- leaving me more time with Carlos- explaining to them it was really Carlos Sainz Jr. that I was talking about is a different story… but they was amazing!

And finally like a miracle from the heavens above- my flight was finally called, it was as if someone put rockets on my shoes- I ran for the line passport and ticket already out ready. I practically shoved the documents into the stewardess hands, rushing quickly down the tunnel.

Smiling to myself, one thought in my head was seeing Carlos.

The flight was calm, nothing seemed to crazy- I slept majority of the flight and was woken just in time for landing-

To say it was late here was an understatement, and I was beyond shattered. Everything seemed a blur- from the airport to the accommodation, Carlos had booked. It all seemed to just happen. And when I was finally in the hotel bed, I finally relaxed and let the sleep evolve me.

**7A.M. SUNDAY MORNING**

I barely slept- in fact I was was tossing and turning. There was a burning in me to find Carlos, yet I had no idea where he was- so I soon settled on falling asleep and getting to the track quicker.

A few days prior to the event I had my passes delivered through the door- with a text from Carlos telling me to ensure I had them.

And out of everything, I held on to it like my life depended on it. The journey to the track was nothing out of the ordinary- apart form the pounding of my heart and the blush on my face every time I thought of Carlos. Messages between us both had been light- but he had to go seeing as they needed his presence.

The adrenaline that flowed through me, when the circuit finally came into view. And the sounds were heard- it was unreal.

And I just knew he was in there- and that’s what excited me even more, like he said I yearned for him.

Once again it was all a blur- I was looking around frantically, any direction or sign of the man I wanted. But nothing- I followed a few people, in the red Ferrari shirts and hats, in a silent pray that they would be my guide.

And they was, grabbing my phone I dialled his number- hoping that he would have a spare few minutes- I didn’t want to just barge in. After a few rings he picked up in what seemed to be a rush.

“Hey- you here?”

“Yeah I’m outside your garage I think…”

And with that the call cut off- and in the space of seconds I finally caught view of him- his face unreadable. My hands glided over my outfit- straightening it out trying to feel more presentable, I felt the need to ensure I was perfect for him- and why? Cause he seemed very perfect for me.

His hair which was a little frazzled, clearly running his hands through it too many times. His face was slightly red, especially on his cheeks, maybe the smallest smile tugging at his lips. Just slightly.

With his hand outstretched, mine delicately slipped into his grasp, as he practically dragged me into the garage. And once behind hidden doors from prying eyes, and cameras- his hands found my cheeks.

“I’ve missed you.”

I couldn’t contain the smile on my face- it just broke out, happy to hear his voice, have his hands on me, just happy... My hands had now reached up holding onto his forearms, thumbs brushing slightly over his wrist in a quiet soothe.

“You did?” Whispering back, feeling giddy- like two blushing teenagers we both stared at each other in awe, as he frantically nodded his head.

“Missed you more than racing.” Smiling back he shuffled closer, causing me to back up, my back now pressed against the door we both once entered through.

“That’s crazy.” Who knew when our faces inched closer, and our breaths became heavier- or when Carlos hands moved from my face, to the sides of my neck pulling me in slowly.

“Think it’s about to get a little crazier…” he mumbled, before softly pressing his lips against mine- both our eyes fluttering closed.

The kiss was gentle, like he was scared of me running, it wasn’t until I slid my hands along his arms and around the back of his head did the kiss deepen. Like the ‘yearning’ we had finally flowed out into one kiss.

We just melted into one another… some may say we are crazy, who do you meet and in a week never want to part from? Someone who has a heart of gold and a smile as warm as the sun that’s who.

“Carlos-” like deers in headlights both our heads snapped to the voice.

“Sorry- I’m so stupid-” Geared up in a red racing suit very similar to Carlos stood another brunette- red faced and looking up at the ceiling.

Glancing back at Carlos, both catching each others eyes- We both to fell into each other in a fit of laughter. Carlos arms wrapping my up into a tight embrace.

“Charles- this is Y/N” releasing me from his embrace, I looked up at him smiling, his eyes already on me- twinkling like stars in the dark night. His hand rested in the curve of my waist gesturing me forward.

“Your Y/N?!” Charles eyebrows was raised in shock as he stepped forward holding his hands out. I nod my head at him smiling holding my hand out to shake his- only to be dragged into a hug.

“Carlos won’t shut up.”

“Aye-” Carlos huffed from behind his hands reaching out and resting on my shoulders as he pulled me back.

Falling back into Carlos, a wide smile on my face, his arms hung around my shoulders, head resting on top of mine.

“It’s lovely to meet you Charles-”

“Nice to finally put a face to the name, it’s always Y/N this- Y/N that.” Charles was quick to drag me from Carlos an arm slung over my shoulders forcing me to walk away.

“All good things I hope-”

“Well- all of what he knows of you in a week anyway.” Charles chuckles, taking the opportunity to show me around the garage, Carlos every so often putting in his input.

And finally, I was back with Carlos.

He was starting to get ready for the race, giving me a little lesson on everything his putting on- until he was standing there with just his gloves and helmet.

“Go crazy out there chili” smiling up at him I pull his velcro strap over his zip, patting it gently twice.

“For you? Any day-” with a quick kiss to the forehead he went out there and secured himself another win.

To him that was his guardian angel telling him that keeping Y/N is keeping his luckiest charm. And he wasn’t going to let it slip through his fingers.

A/N: Okay- so I’m sorry for starters, it’s taken me a while to get out of writers block- I also didn’t know where I was going with this I just hope you enjoy it… Idk I don’t love it.

Masterlist

[tagsecretsanta]

From @thundergirl007

From @thundergirl007 to @such-a-random-rambler

Content Warnings: kidnapping, held at gunpoint.

Winter and adverse weather never seem to make the job of a taxi driver any easier. One would have thought that, if the weather is forecast to be bad, people would stay home and not try to go anywhere. But no, people just love to try their hand at getting somewhere in time for the holidays.

For Roman, it was just another night, another job to do. Smoking a cigarette as he waits for someone to come and be his next - and probably last - fare for the evening.

It's freezing tonight, and dark as hell. From the look of the departure board that he can see from out here in the taxi rank, there are no more departures tonight. Either due to cancellations, delays or by the miracle that the flight has managed to take off to go to its destination. The arrivals board isn't looking much better. It's unlikely that he'll get many more fares here tonight.

There's a blanket of snow over the horizon, covering the trees and caking the fields with a thick layer of soft, white snow, but the roads have been cleared and gritted. What few cars dare to try and drive seem to be coping well with this weather. A good sign at least, it doesn't seem like there's any ice. Even if there was, Roman was a good enough driver that it really didn't matter. It snows here the moment it gets slightly cold.

He's just taking another drag when it appears that a group of arrivals have finally cleared baggage collection and are making their way to this entrance. The taxi rank leading to the car park, along with the drop off/pick up zone just a few hundred metres away. Roman stubs out his cigarette. There's a lot of passengers, some heading for a few of his colleagues in the cars up ahead.

Just as he finishes putting the cigarette in the ashtray, a tall, well-dressed man steps out of the terminal and makes a beeline for him. He has the strangest green eyes, and red hair curled into the most obnoxious style he's ever seen.

"Are you reserved, sir?" he asks, coming to a stop a few metres in front of him.

Roman tries to smile, to act like he's not freezing his ass off here. "No sir, hop right in," he goes around to the trunk of the taxi and pops it open.

Surprisingly the man doesn't get into the back of the car, but instead opts to put his own suitcase in the trunk, despite Roman reaching to do it himself. Most well-dressed assholes like to let him do all the work.

"Thank you," the man smiles earnestly, before heading to the back seat of the taxi.

Oh well. Time to make a bit more money.

It isn't long before they're off, away from the airport and the lights, and onto the lonely lanes that make up this part of the city's outskirts.

"So what brings you here on a night like this?" Roman asks, trying to make conversation.

The man has removed his scarf, having placed it on the seat beside him. "Flying home to visit family, but my flight has been royally messed with. What with the weather, and everything. This is just a quick stop, really."

"I get it," he chuckles, "most folks are probably in similar shoes to yours right now."

"You're telling me," the man laughs a little in reply, before the sound of a ringtone cuts through the air and silences them both.

The man pulls out an unsurprisingly expensive phone and answers the caller, leaving Roman trying to act like he's not listening in to everything.

"Hey Scott... Yeah, we landed about 20 minutes ago. I'm headed to a hotel for the night, I'm not going anywhere for a day or two at least... I know. It sucks, but I shall be there for our grand reunion before Christmas at least. I hope, anyway... Has Father stepped away from the office for once or is the great Jeff Tracy planning on spending Christmas at his desk?"

Roman's heart skipped a beat.

Jeff Tracy?

The Jeff Tracy?

No, no. Can't be. There's no way. There's no way the son of a goddamn billionaire is in the back of his taxi right now. Those pricks tend to get private limos, heck, private jets! What is this?

"Haha, I'm joking. Of course with Grandma involved he wouldn't get away with making Christmas about Tracy Enterprises."

The man makes a point of lowering his voice a little at that remark, almost like he forgot that he was in a taxi until that very moment.

No, that's definitely the Jeff Tracy that he's talking about. Tracy Enterprises. Billionaire corporation. Ex astronaut living it up with his money and his family.

And one of his sons is in his taxi right now.

The chance of a lifetime is right here, right now. His heart races as he pulls to a stop at an intersection, using the opportunity to reach for his own phone beside him.

His passenger is still talking away on that call as he unlocks his phone and tries not to make it obvious that he's sending a message. This intersection has a longer wait time than most. The time is now.

Got one of Jeff Tracy's sons in my taxi.

He sends that short, simple text to a... colleague. Hopefully he'll read it quickly, and think of exactly what he's thinking, and then they can all have an absolutely golden payday.

And it'll all be because of Roman.

"Sorry about that," the man back their says, "family checking in, you know how it is."

"Sounds like my brothers," he chuckles, "they like to know when I'm coming home because they want me to bring them some food on the way."

He smirks an acknowledgement that he sees in the rear view mirror, and he is looking at something on his phone now. Probably checking his bank account or something. But he's sufficiently distracted, and good timing too, because the phone vibrates beside me, the screen lighting up with the notification:

Can you bring him to the warehouse?

Roman's reply is a simple one.

On my way.

John was tired. Travelling at this time of year was always going to be more difficult than summertime, ironically enough, but today had just been a long day and he wanted nothing more than to crash into a bed of his own. Although tonight, a hotel bed would have to make do.

He wasn't really paying too much attention to the landscape around him. It was too dark and too snowy to really notice much anyway, but it was enough for him to notice the view change from a barely visible snowscape to a vaguely industrial setting. The empty fields became concrete buildings, with small, dark windows and huge electrical gates in the side of the wall. It's deserted here, there's no industry at this time of night.

"We shouldn't be long now, sir," the driver said, turning onto a new street, "I'm trying to avoid the weather this way."

"That's fine," John replied, turning his attention to his laptop bag that he had brought with him.

Had he packed his notebook? Where is it? The notebook that has all the notes he needs to use to write his report whilst on vacation. It's normally in the zip pocket of the laptop bag, but it certainly isn't here now.

Where had he put it?

John had put his phone down on the seat next to him as he pulled up his bag onto his lap and began to rifle through it, pulling out the contents in some sort of desperate hope that he had put it somewhere else in this bag.

"Sir?" the driver seemed concerned.

"It's nothing, I have money for the fare, I'm just looking for -"

"Oh, I know you have money, Tracy."

The sudden change in the voice of the driver forces him to stop looking through his bag and finally look at the young man who had been driving him around for the past half an hour or so. The car had stopped, somewhere derelict and abandoned almost, parked right in front of an old warehouse.

The driver was also holding a gun.

Held low through the seats and pointed right at him, the driver's face is like stone and John can't see anything else except for the barrel of that pistol.

"Get out of the car," he demands, pointing his pistol around vaguely.

John doesn't move though, he can barely string a coherent thought together.

"I said, get out of the car, Tracy."

Suddenly there are men outside the taxi. Three in total, all wearing black face masks, with two of them being visibly armed.

This situation isn't some kind of joke, or prank, or anything. It's real, real and dangerous. He's got a gun pointed at him and he's surrounded.

Nowhere to run or hide.

"Alright," he looks from the driver to the gun, raising his hands in a weak, pathetic attempt at surrender. "Can you put the gun down, at least?"

"You aren't the one making demands here. Move."

John takes a deep breath. Stay calm. Got to stay calm. He shuffles towards the door he had entered the taxi in, where one of the new arrivals was stood waiting for him. Wearing a nondescript black coat and gloves, the bandana covering their face, just a piercing gaze staring straight into his soul.

"Leave your stuff," the driver barks as John reached for his phone.

He's not willing to test whether this taxi driver will shoot him for this or not.

He opens the door, and the already chilly air from inside the taxi was replaced by a bitter bite that John could only instinctively try to suppress a reaction to, for fear his numerous assailants would turn those guns on him. The man stood there grabs the door and pulls it fully open, now pointing his gun at him. He tried not to look at it.

He had never been on the dangerous end of a gun before in his life, and never imagined it could ever happen. Being the son of one of the richest men in the world, he was warned of the possibility. When he moved out of the house to go work at NASA, he had pondered the prospect of things like mugging whilst out walking home.

But he still never entertained the idea of being robbed at gunpoint whilst taking a taxi.

He held his hands up as he stepped out of the vehicle, one of the other men appearing at his right, pressing the cold, hard barrel of his weapon into John’s side. Not a word needed to be said, and John stepped away from the door of the taxi.

“Get him out of here,” the assailant still stood by his door commanded, leaning into the back of the taxi and grabbing what was John’s effects. “Good job, kid, this’ll…”

John barely had time to say anything in protest, any chance to even hear what that kid said in response, before something hit the back of his head, hard. And his world faded to black.

Cold.

That’s the first thing he noticed.

This place was very, very cold.

John tried to open his eyes, and it was damned hard. He wanted to go back to sleep, he could ignore the cold that way, at least. He hadn’t noticed it until now, had he? This hotel room is freezing, though. Perhaps he should…

His hands were stuck. That was the next thing he noticed. They were behind his back somehow, around something, with something else tightly wrapped around his wrists, keeping them painfully in place behind him. It was awfully uncomfortable. The pain of trying to move them actually compelled him to open his eyes - they didn’t adjust very quickly at all, it’s dark in here.

In addition to the cold, the dark is overwhelming and overbearing, crushing down on his chest like a vice. He managed to move his legs - only slightly – but that was all he could move. He couldn’t really do anything else to get a better view of... wherever this is.

The room was small. Concrete floor and stone walls, a set of rusty garden chairs and a table are just about visible underneath the small window right by the ceiling across from him. There's a single lightbulb above him in the centre of the room, but it's not turned on. The door to the room is a few feet away from him and it's almost certain that it's been locked. He'd be surprised if it wasn't.

Looking up at the window, he could see a deluge of snow racing towards the ground from a deep, dark, daunting sky. The moonlight just barely visible through the clouds and the snowfall, it's almost a certainty that hours have passed - the snow was not this bad when he...

Come to think of it, how long had he been here? It was dark when he arrived at the airport. Then he got in the taxi. That was... the taxi driver! He must have brought him here, unconscious and tied up in his taxi. But it's so dark, so either he's only been asleep for a few hours and sunrise is all but around the corner, suggesting they are not that far from where he was kidnapped. Or he's been unconscious for almost 24 hours, and they've had time to travel further afield. He had checked in with Scott after - Scott!

Oh god, they'll all be laying eggs with worry if he really has been gone for over a day with no contact with anyone. Although, the still sane part of his brain thinks that would be a good thing. They'll be on the lookout, surely. They'll know something's not right.

Right?

Suddenly there's a loud noise somewhere above him. Footsteps. A door scraping open. Muffled voices.

The tiniest hint of light appearing through the cracks in the door.

The footsteps begin to pound towards him, most likely descending a set of stairs. There's no way this prison isn't a cold, dark, damp basement.

A lock clicks and a door unlatches, swinging open towards him, and two imposing silhouettes loom over him, the light coming from the distant bulb at the top of the landing making ascertaining their features difficult. The two figures step into the room, slamming the door shut and flicking a switch.

Light floods the room, and John screws his eyes shut at the sudden change, making it even more difficult to see his newly arrived captors.

Luckily, he wasn't kept in too much suspense for very long.

A hand grabbed at his hair, digging into his scalp and so unexpected that John couldn't even hide the cry of pain that escaped his lips. He forced himself to open his eyes, though. The once fuzzy silhouette coming into focus, the image clearing, and yet he still could barely tell a single thing about the man before him.

Pale. Blue eyes. Dark hair. Bandana covering the lower half of his face.

Just like before.

"Nice to see you've finally woken up. Took you long enough," the man sneered, almost mocking as he tilted John's head from one side to the other.

John's brain was wired with a thousand things he wanted to say to this man. A thousand questions. But right now, he couldn't string together a simple few words. Each question he wanted to ask was vying for priority in his head and he couldn't ask them all.

"We won't hurt you. Not unless you cooperate, and then we can all go back to our lives," the man speaks with a coldness to his voice, something in the way he said we can all go back to our lives. Like he hasn't got someone tied up in front of him. Like he hasn't had guns brandished at him, or even dragged him to goodness-only-knows-where. “I also wouldn’t advise shouting for help. We’re the only living souls around here for miles, and I’d hate to use more extreme measures to get you to shut up.”

"Who are you?" John managed to ask, looking the man in the eye.

"Doesn't matter who we are, Tracy."

"There must have been some kind of mistake -"

"Oh, no, no. No mistake here, Mr Tracy. Your passport says you're John Tracy, son of the billionaire. Your driver heard you talking about your father on the phone. There's no way you aren't Jeff Tracy's son."

"What do you want?"

"Oh, that old cliche. Well, my answer is just as predictable as you're expecting. I want a fat payday from your daddy dearest and you're going to help me get it," he turns away from John to face the other man, a much younger man than the one in front of him. "Bring his phone here."

The younger one pulls out a phone from his pocket, revealing the expensive model to John before passing it to his partner. The screen lights up from the motions, and the all too familiar screen flashes up. A night sky, the view of Earth from Aurora 18, the last time he was spaceside on his communication duties.

"Passcode please, Mr Tracy. We just want to send a message."

Scott Tracy needed coffee to function.

Gordon joked that he should probably just hook it up to his veins, with the amount he consumes to come around first thing in the morning. He's inclined to caffeinate more frequently in the times when everyone is home - particularly said Gordon.

He made his way to the kitchen to find his father already there, newspaper under his arm, coffee pot brewing away on the counter.

"Morning Dad," he greeted, trying to straighten his hair somewhat.

His father turned from what he was doing to face him, "good morning Scott. Did you sleep well?"

"Not really. I think I'm coming down with something, although I'm not sure where from."

"Ask your grandmother for some medicine, or even some soup."

Scott could only laugh. "And have me hospitalised just in time for Christmas? No thank you, father."

"Good point," he retorted.

The coffee pot was steaming away by now, and the patriarch reached to pour both himself and his eldest son a coffee that they clearly were in some need for. Scott took the chance to reach for a banana and an apple from the fruit bowl, following his father from the counter to the table with their coffees in hand.

It did feel good to be home again, rather than being on the Air Force Base, and Scott was sure his father would agree with him. The house was just much livelier with five sons instead of just the one since Alan is still at school. Not today, at least, but still several years behind the rest of them in age.

"Have you heard from John?" his father asked, unfolding the newspaper.

"Not since last night. I'd have hoped he'd have told us what his travel plans were. He said he was having to stop over in Cincinnati because of the weather, but he's not said what he's doing today."

"I'm sure he'll be trying to work that out for himself. The weather can get lousy around there."

"You're telling me."

Scott took a long drink of his coffee, enjoying the almost burning sensation as it rippled down his throat and warmed his chest. Probably not the safest way to drink coffee, but he's on leave right now - he can do what he wants. For now, at least.

"When do you have to go back to base?”

“Two weeks. I have plenty of leave to use up so I figured the holidays were as good a time as any to get it –“

The shrill tone of a phone ringing out loud stopped Scott mid-sentence. His phone was certainly not ringing, but his fathers was, and Scott took a bite out of the apple he had brought to the table whilst his father went to go and answer his phone. The apple was crisp and fine, perfectly ripe and red and there wasn’t a bruise in sight. Arguably an apple wasn’t enough sustenance for a man in his 20’s breakfast, but it’s one of the healthiest things that requires no cooking, at least until he’s more awake. Actually, he’s on leave – why should he be sticking to his Air Force habits when he could just make pancakes before Grandma burns the house down? It’s the holidays, after all. And it’ll definitely be -

“What are you talking about, Jenson? Where is my son?”

His father’s voice boomed from behind his ajar office door, a demand that shook the very foundations of the house and brought Scott to attention instantly. The only son not in the house right now is John. His father isn’t prone to exaggeration or dramatics.

Something must have happened.

“Who contacted the office? Have you called the police? Is my son alive?!”

“This message is for Jeff Tracy. If you want to see your son alive again, pay five million dollars into the bank account sent with this video. You have two days.”

The face of the man in the video is a sorry sight.

Sporting a fresh purple bruise on his chin and a busted lip, he’s reading from a piece of paper that’s just not visible on the video. His voice is detached and steady. His arms tied behind his back to the pillar by rope. When he finished speaking, there’s a few seconds where the video is silent, he’s not speaking and neither is anyone else, just lingering on his solemn expression. He’s looking beyond the camera - he’s trying to see if what he said got approval. It did, because the video stops there.

John was watching his own ransom video, and it made him feel sick. What the viewer doesn’t see is the gun aimed right at him behind the camera. They don’t see anything of the dark, dank basement. And they certainly don’t see anything of his captors.

What will his father think when he sees the sorry state of his son here in that video?

“Looking good, Tracy. Time to find out if your dad really does love you or not then,” the bigger and bolder of the two men pulled the phone away from John’s face, nodding with a sick sort of satisfaction, “if he pays us, we’ll tell him where you are.”

Putting the phone away in his pocket – John’s phone – the pair of men then both turn towards the door.

The one speaking did not even look at him as he did so.

“And if not, well. We’ll be back to make good on our end of the bargain.”

We’ll kill you. That’s what he means. John has no doubt that he would too. This entire… situation, seemed almost like a well-oiled machine, they’ve done this before. Kidnapped. Held for ransom. Left in a cold dark basement.

Murdered.

The smaller one lingers in the doorway for a moment as his partner proceeds up the stairs.

He wasn’t sure, but John could have sworn he heard the man say something to him, but it was too quiet for him to make it out. Too mumbled. Like he didn’t want someone to hear him.

Except that John could do nothing but stare at him. That younger one is almost certainly his taxi driver, his voice is too distinct for it to be anyone else. Until now John had thought he was a rather enthusiastic participant in the whole affair - but seeing him now – seeing his hesitancy to follow his partner, seeing the look in his eyes when his partner made that very thinly veiled threat, seeing how he can barely look at John now.

Has this gone a bit further than he expected it to?

John didn’t have the chance to question the younger man about what he said though, because he scurried off up the stairs, slamming the door shut and clicking the lock behind him, leaving him alone once more.

At least this time they had the decency to leave the light on for him, although that’s not saying much. They could just as easily come back and deprive him of that privilege too.

He tried tugging on his bindings again. Tight, and course and chafing on his wrists painfully. Damn! He needed to get out of here, and soon. Those 48 promised hours don’t mean a whole lot when they could just decide to kill him before that anyway.

Looking around the room with the light on was much easier than without the lights before. Everything was caked in a thick layer of dust, cobwebs in every corner, and even a spider was up on the wall near the window. From what he could see, it looked like that window could be opened, and with a little bit of luck – if he was able to get out of these ropes – he might be able to squeeze out of that window.

But then what?

This needed thinking about now. He has no idea where he is, it could be miles away from anywhere resembling civilisation or help in any way. The snow hasn’t stopped either, from what he can see, and whilst his captors have graciously allowed him to stay in his coat that they kidnapped him in, it’s hardly suitable for a blizzard. No scarf, no gloves, no hat, no decent shoes. The cold could kill him before he even reaches another person.

He needs a way to call for help. To at the very least send a message before he risks running out into the potential wilderness alone and succumbing to hypothermia.

A place this remote – if what his captors mentioned was true – would have to have some sort of phone or radio. Some way for people to communicate if they were trapped here by snow, right? Almost exactly for this situation? Communications is his job for spaceships, surely he can send an SOS to someone who can help him now?

That’s decided then. Stay here and call for help. Only run as a desperate last resort.

48 hours begins now.

As does his attempts at breaking out of these ropes.

It’s doubtful that they would make this easy for him, the knots are sure to be secure. Is there something he can use to create friction? Something he can use to chip away at the rope’s integrity. All he needs is to break, burn or cut through one piece of the rope and it should all come apart, right?

His eyes dart around nearby. There’s no kind of toolbox or anything, especially not within reach. Even a piece of broken glass or a shard of plastic is better than absolutely nothing else. Suddenly he saw something small, just at the base of an old, busted up wooden chair just to his left.

A nail sticking out of a board.

The nail looks rusty and bent slightly, but it has a sharp edge and that’s almost worth its weight in gold at this point.

The board is more like a handle of something. Not too big that it’s going to be easy to grab, of course, but not too small either. And it’s just a little bit out of the reach of his unbound feet.

This was probably going to hurt.

John scooted around the pole to face it as directly as he could, and shuffled down a little from his seated position, his arms straining against the pole as he used his left foot to try and reach it. He was so close. He fought to hold back a cry, any noise that would bring his captors right back here.

He gritted his teeth. Took a deep breath. In. Out. Countdown - Three. Two. One.

He made a desperate lunge for it, and just about managed to use his shoe to grip the edge of the board. Now was the time to be careful. One wrong move could push it beyond his reach, and then it’s all over.

Taking his time and equally trying not to dislocate his shoulders, he grates his ankle into the wood against the floor, dragging it millimetre by millimetre closer.

He exhales. No sudden moves now. It’s not over yet.

Bringing his other foot into play, he itches to bring the wood into a more comfortable reach. The broken piece of chair was just about in his clutches. Keep calm. Keep steady.

He shuffles back into his original position, the much less painful one. The wood was between his feet now, and it was a considerable effort to bring it closer to him with his feet. Why didn’t he become a gymnast in his youth? Gordon would probably be flexible enough for this.

Except Gordon isn’t here. And he’ll be damned if he doesn’t get to see that blond mischief maker in person once more time.

Slam!

John froze. A loud noise from above his head practically shook the foundation of the cellar acting as his prison. He held his breath, hoping that the sound would not be followed by storming footsteps down to his location.

Each second felt like an eternity, waiting for something – anything – to signal that someone was coming down those stairs.

It didn’t.

Instead, something else made noise. An engine of some sort. Difficult to ascertain because it sounded really far away, just barely audible.

Have they left? The men? Have they decided to go wait out these 48 hours somewhere else? It’s possible, but it’s also just as likely that either there is a third person upstairs, or one of the two of them remains. All the same, he can’t ruin this now. He’s come so close.

This part of the operation was going to be both crucial and difficult.

He needed to get the wood from his knees to somewhere close to the pole, where he can at least try to reach it with his hands. Kicking it is unlikely to work, and even if he could from his current position, there’s always a risk that he could kick it just frustratingly out of his reach once again.

Could he stand up? Itch it closer with a little more precision? Bring it as close to him as he can?

It’s worth a try.

John leaned back as far as he could, into the post with as much force as he could muster for support. Flattening his feet to the hard concrete, he pushed, trying to push himself up the post, arching his back and causing a great strain as he did so.

It was too much. He had to stop, slumping back down to the ground.

But it didn’t deter him. He was certain that he could do it, he just needed to get up a few more inches and he knew he that he could move his feet, giving him the support he needed to stand completely.

In. Out. In… out… in…

And up!

With all his remaining strength he pushed hard on his feet, his shoulders practically wrapped around the pole as he pushed himself up off the ground, arching his back and quickly moving his left foot backwards, closer to him, to provide more immediate support and relief.

He couldn’t help but exhale sharply as he stood, secure in his position, shoulders aching like mad. It seems sad that this brought a smile to his lips, but a success is a success, and honestly, it felt like he’d just climbed a mountain.

He reached out with his right foot, nudging the wood closer to him with the tips of his toes. It was much easier to do so from this position. Much more controlled.

Much quicker.

Next was to put it where his hands would be able to reach it.

Taking care not to grab impale his foot with the bent nail, he kicked it very, very gently around the pole, turning his whole body with it as he did so. It took a few moments, but he was pretty certain that if he slid back down to his original position, he would be able to hold onto that piece of wood, and hopefully, use it to saw through part of his bindings.

Here goes nothing.

Practically repeating the procedure in reverse, he pressed his back to the hard pole and slipped downwards, as carefully as he could. All was going fine until the last few inches, where he dropped straight down and landed hard on his backside, his arms straining from all the effort of both lifting him up and lowering him down in such a short span of time.

But he finally had it! He could feel the chair arm in his grip, and having a feel around of it, he knew exactly where that nail was. Still bent slightly, but at least he had it. Now was the time, he knew he had at least some time before someone returned, he had to try and do this. Had to try and escape.

With a renewed resolve and the tiniest dash of hope lightening the heavy load on his chest, he manoeuvred the wood in his right hand, feeling the nail connect with at least some of the rope on the underside.

No time to waste.

“Have we heard anything yet, Nick?”

Roman’s mind was racing as he asked the question. Their truck was driving down the treacherous terrain, the road not even visible under all the snow that had piled on over the last 48 hours. He kept glancing at his passenger side mirror, looking back where the cabin should be.

His colleague snorted. “Why, are you eager for some spending money, little birdie?”

“No. I just… don’t know how this all works yet.”

“Well, it’s guaranteed that Jeff Tracy isn’t just going to pay anyone who asks for money without thinking. Even if his son’s life is on the line. Got to let him sweat it out a bit.”

“Why not just let John go then? Just leave him. Don’t even go back to kill him?”

“What do you think will happen to you – to the entire gang – if we do that?”

“I don’t know. It just doesn’t feel right to kill him,” Roman shrugged his shoulders.

“Why do you care so much? He’s the son of a goddamn billionaire, he’s wanted for nothing his entire life. A spoilt brat who takes but never gives. He will have had a much fuller life in his 20-something years than you have had in your 18. Don’t you think we should have a slice of the pie for once? Isn’t that why you joined?”

“Yeah, but… killing someone? I thought we were just going to, I don’t know… get him to transfer his own money to us. Leave him be. I’ve never actually shot someone before, Nick.”

“Wow. You really don’t know anything, do you?”

Nick brought the van to a complete stop in the road, the wind whistling past their windows being the only sounds audible to Roman in that moment as Nick turned to face him, looking him deadly seriously.

“There are two reasons why, and I’m going to explain what a bad idea yours is. First of all, if we let him die without dealing with the body, we’ll have a rotting corpse to deal with, and I am not doing that again. It leaves evidence,” his partner explains, not taking his eyes of the road to look at him, “and secondly, he’s a loose end. If we don’t kill him, people may find him. Or he’ll escape, and that’s bad for you kid. You picked him up. He’s seen you, can identify you. You’d be going down for years for kidnapping and extortion.”

Roman’s stomach dropped. He hated to admit it, but he was right. John Tracy has seen him and that puts him in danger, and also their entire operation. Roman knows what happens to loose lipped snitches – he’s only been with this gang for a few months and has already heard of someone beaten to death for snitching to the cops when caught for a “minor�� drug crime.

Having sympathy for John Tracy’s predicament is detrimental to his own situation, and as hard as it was to say, he really should bury that sympathy and focus on himself.

“I suppose you’re right…”

“Of course I am. I’m the boss, remember? We don’t want to let such a stupid thing be the way we’re caught. Especially not because of some rich boy.”

Nick turned back to face the road, putting the vehicle back into gear, and setting off down the snowy road.

Roman however, could only think if this sickly feeling would go away after getting his hands on a fraction of that money.

Yes!

He was free! The rope cut away and he felt it loosen around his wrists. His breath was stolen in that instant as he wriggled them around a little, just to feel for anything. And it did! He managed to slip his left wrist from the rope, and very quickly brought them both around to his front, massaging them gently where the coarse rope had dug into his skin.

Almost there, almost there, almost there!

He removed the straggling bit of rope from his right wrist and changed from a sitting position to almost a crawl. He wanted to stand, stretch his legs, scream.

Two of the three is satisfying enough for now though.

He immediately clambered up to his feet before covering his mouth with his now freed hands – is there someone still upstairs?

He crept soundlessly towards the cellar door. Pressing his ear up against the crack between the cold wooden door and the wall, he listened. Or rather, he tried to. His heart was pounding in his ears, thumping in his chest, making it hard to tell whether or not someone was there or not. Does he want to test it, to find out?

John looked around the table and chairs beside him. There’s a glass bottle here. Covered in dust, a spider web connecting it to the old table. If he were to drop it, break it, would someone come running?

Would he be able to fight them off if they came down to check? He had the chair handle, he could hide behind the door and hit them with it when they came in. But that chair handle has a rusty nail embedded into it – he doesn’t want to kill or seriously injure someone, even if they are involved in kidnapping him.

What about if he broke the bottle, then ran back to where they had left him? Act like he was still tied up, only attack if absolutely necessary. It’s risky. Both of the ideas are.

Is it worth the risk to just… open the door, climb the stairs, and see for himself? They may catch someone off guard, but equally, these assailants are armed, and have already said they’ll shoot him. What’s to stop them from shooting first, asking questions later, especially with what contempt they have for him? Whether his father pays the ransom is irrelevant at that point, if he’s dead.

Unless…

He silently rushed to the window. On his tiptoes, he could just barely see out of the window. The snow was incessant, falling quickly and coating the horizon completely in ice cold freezing snow. It looks like he’s in a valley of some sort, or at least halfway into one, because the trees seem to be getting smaller and lower the further away they are from him. The furthest side of this valley is hard enough to see because of the dark sky and the weather, but he can tell that there are no other buildings over there. The remaining 270 degrees of the house could point him towards civilisation.

He reached instead for the wooden chair at his side, very carefully lifting it up and placing it directly under the window. Despite its dusty nature and antique look, it still felt very sturdy. It should hold his weight… hopefully.

Holding on to the backrest, he placed his left foot onto the seat and applied pressure, just to see what would happen. It didn’t feel like it was going to completely collapse on him. He added his other foot and knelt on top of the chair for a few seconds.

They passed like an eternity, but pass they did, and he felt brave enough to try and stand on the seat.

There was a tiny wobble as he did so, but holding onto the tiniest windowsill in existence helped him regain his balance.

Well, this was a double-edged sword. He was both able to see more thanks to perspective and see less thanks to the worsening weather. That snowy fog had set in now, reducing visibility to just about 20 yards. He couldn’t even see the other side of the valley he was supposedly on.

If he was even on one at all.

On the one hand, it looked like this window could be opened, and he might just be able to crawl out of here.

But did he really want to?

It feels like he’s jumping out of the frying pan and into the fire, here. If he gets outside, he’s not got long before he needs to either find help, shelter, or both before he succumbs to the bitter cold. If this cellar was any indication of how freezing it was down here, then he’d have… twenty minutes perhaps? Based on how he’s dressed now. There’s no guarantee here. And besides, he’d be leaving footprints. His only hope in that regard is the weather covering them up quickly.

Unless…

John started fiddling with the handle, unlocking it, and managing to push the window open as wide as it would go, fighting his way through the resisting snow as he did so. The cold front instantly hit him hard. A gust of wind blowing some of the loose snow into the basement with him.

He couldn’t give up now. He had to try this anyway.

He pulled his coat sleeve over his hand and gripped the hem of his sleeve in his now covered fist, using it to sweep away huge swaths of soft, freshly laid snow away from the window as much as he could. It all clung to his coat like it was magnetised, but most of the snow was being shifted.

John dashed off the snow from his sleeve and prepared to climb up.

He grabbed onto the outside of the window frame, pulling to see if it would take his weight, and then tried to force his head through, pushing up from the old chair,

It must look ridiculous to witness. He managed to pull himself partway through the window, his waist slightly caught on the catch at the bottom of the window frame. He could feel the open window against his back, practically preventing him from retreating now even if he wanted to. He kicked hard, as if kicking thin air was going to push him through at all.

But he wasn’t giving up yet. He could move, very slowly, very surely. He was making progress.

He knew he was through when he felt the window catch on his ankle before slamming loudly.

And he froze.

That was loud. Anyone in the house would have heard that.

For a moment, all he could do was lie there, on his front, in the snow like a fish out of water, waiting to see or hear anyone coming.

But no one came.

There must not be anyone in that house right now.

John scrambled to his feet, bringing his arms to his chest, and trying to keep warm. He needed to be quick. If there really was no one in the house, he could have a look around, see if there is something in there that can help him. A phone, a radio, clothes for this weather.

He began to run around the outside of the house. It looked to be a cabin of some description. Made of wood, with windows that were covered by curtains to prevent him from seeing in all of them. Perhaps it is not in use all year round, hence why his kidnappers thought this was a good place to keep him hidden from everyone that could have seen, heard or helped him. It would also explain why there are summer chairs and tables down in that cellar, it’s only getting use out here in good weather.

That does reduce the chances of warm winter clothing being here. But hopefully he can still find something useful inside. A bedsheet or blanket is better than nothing.

He reached for the door… and stopped.

What if there is an alarm system on this door? On the windows? It would alert the people whose house this is, and if those people are the ones who kidnapped him, it would certainly send them running right back to him!

On the other hand, what if this house doesn’t belong to them? If this house is someone else’s, some innocent party. It could alert them that someone is in his house, could alert the police.

But what if they think he’s the one who broke in? He could get into a lot of trouble with that.

He can’t stay out here forever. He needs to come up with a plan. Besides, there’s no way he can break a door down with his bare hands, not in this weather anyway.

He saw a relatively low window around the back of the building, and whilst he could not tell what was inside at this point here, he could take a chance and break in here.

Well, there was no chance of opening it from the outside.

His fingers tingled from the bitter air, what snow remained stuck to his clothing also helping to freeze him. He cupped his hands and brought them to his face, blowing hot air into them, just something to alleviate this.

He can’t stay here.

There’s a wood store just a few feet away, right beside what looks like a shed. The wood is chopped and not covered up for some reason – unless the cover has blown away. But this gave him an idea.

He grabbed one of the chunks of log, feeling its damp, rough outer shell bite into his skin. He rushed back to the window, braced himself, and threw it at the window.

It bounced right off it.

This wasn’t how he planned for this to go.

He picked it right back up, stood right in front of the window, and started hitting at the top right corner, banging with all the strength he could muster. A crack began to form from the impact – a pale, snow white spider web that gets bigger every time he drives the log into the same spot. He can hear the tiniest sound of cracking in the glass – it’s a sign that both gives him enormous relief and apprehension for when it will completely give way.

The weapon he’s using to smash the window is starting to splinter. He can feel them in his grip, digging in hard, piercing him on a microscopic level.

But this is more important.

It took some time to break, but when it did, the breakthrough came quickly.

The whole thing shattered into several larger pieces, and hundreds of tiny shards, sending them flying both into the house and outside.

He used the log to try and clear away the straggling pieces of pain that remained in the frame.

“Ah, damn it!” he cried before he could stop himself, catching the side of his hand on some glass. It was bleeding quickly, and he brought the hand to his chest, trying to apply what pressure he could. The cold air and his warm blood were not a recipe for a good experience.

It was only here that he realised no alarm was blaring. No flashing lights or any sort of alert that someone had broken into this house.

He supposed that he was owed some good fortune, at least, and didn’t waste any more time. Pushing the curtain aside, he scrambled in through the broken window and tried not to step in too much glass. The last thing he needed was holes in his shoes if he needed to run out of here into the snow.

It looks like he’s in a corridor connecting the kitchen to the living area. Or at least, he assumed it was the living area. This floor of the house was much tidier than the cellar would suggest, but still in a state of disuse. There’s sparse furniture – barely even a chair in the living room, let alone anything else in there like a table, bookshelf or paintings hanging on the wall. The wallpaper was peeling in the corners, damp setting in through the ceiling, the curtains were discoloured and murky. Discoloured patches on the walls from where things had once been hanging and had not been for some time.

Abandoned. Deserted. Empty.

John rushed down the corridor, sucking some of the blood from the wound and pressing it back against his coat. Kitchen. Kitchen’ll have something to stem this bleeding, surely. A towel, maybe. Hopefully even a first aid kit, especially if this place is being used as a hideout by those men. There’s bound to be something, anything!

He was right. The kitchen seems to be where any sign of life is around here. Dirty and used utensils, a few water bottles. There are things here, and things are important right now.

Anything in the most desperate situation can become the most useful thing in the whole world.

He wrenched open cupboards and drawers, not finding a whole lot. The occasional pan, plate and cup, but mostly spider webs and dust. It looks like all his captors left was their litter. This isn’t much good to him here.

There was a set of stairs leading up from the kitchen just beside this set of cupboards, and a door just next to them too. Pulling open the door, he realised there was a padlock at the top of the door. That’s the stairs to the cellar then. He’d have never made it out of this door even if he tried to climb these stairs.

There was a pair of rusty old scissors in one of the cupboards and picked them up. Cold to the touch, and when he tried flexing the jaws of the tool, it took effort. They were clearly last used years ago. But they were quite sharp, and he was able to loosen them somewhat with a bit of gentle work. There was no sign of any towels or anything sanitary to use to clean this wound, so improvising it is. He grabbed the hem of the nearest curtain and cut along the width of the fabric. Not too much, but enough for him to wrap the murky green fabric around his hand.

Not the cleanest, especially not since he cut it with a rusty knife, but he’s certain that his father got him fully vaccinated as a child. Any consequences from his makeshift first aid can be dealt with later, that’s a problem for future John, the John-who-is-not-here-anymore.

The blood was stemmed for now, seeping through some of the layers of the fabric, but it should stop soon (hopefully, he thought). His coat was a write off though – he looked like he had murdered someone – and certainly wasn’t getting those stains out. There was just enough that it’s clear he’s not bleeding to death but that he was seriously injured.

Immediate first aid situation dealt with.

Next is an SOS.

It was fair to assume that based on the lack of… anything resembling furniture in this house, that finding working technology was going to be a no go. But all the same, this place is remote enough that surely someone who previously lived here needed to contact someone during inclement weather, no? There will hardly be telephone wires and even if there are, this weather will have truly messed with them.

Even so, he works in communications. It’s his whole job. Finding a way to communicate is priority one and even if it’s a walkie-talkie he finds, he could make use from it.

Think, John, think!

Where is the most likely place for a radio receiver to be in a house in the middle of nowhere?

Upstairs? It’s worth a try, there isn’t much else down here.

Upstairs was much, much smaller than downstairs by a considerable amount. There was only two rooms connected to the landing. One was a bathroom, the other a bedroom.

The bathroom was more of a wet room than a bathroom as such. Tiled, clinical, still as filthy as the remainder of the house. There wasn’t anything in this room – even the showerhead was missing from behind the glass. The skylight here wasn’t doing much to illuminate the room from all the snow weighing down on it.

The bedroom was barely any better. There was an old, springy mattress on an antique four poster bed. The mattress was in a sorry state, greying, frayed and a few springs poking out of the holes that were present on top. Not a bedsheet in sight.

There was an enormous wardrobe leaned against the wall.

And in that wardrobe? There was nothing of any use. Just another empty thing in this house!

John even went and flipped the mattress on the bed, just in case there was something there.

This was getting difficult now. Getting stressful. He has no idea how long it’s been since those men left, and even less of an idea of how long it will be before they return. They could come back any minute now and it’d be over. They have guns, he doesn’t. He can’t take on two of them – what if they brought back more this time?

It doesn’t bare thinking about.

He could feel the blood pumping through the wound in his makeshift tourniquet, feel his heart pounding in his chest. Thoughts racing through his head. Words never said. Emotions never expressed. Feelings never experienced. Seeing his family one last time. Being among the stars in the sky.

He ran his hands through his hair, feeling the lump rise in his throat and the bitter tightness in his windpipe. That awful, horrible, familiar feeling.

Tears threatening to overwhelm him.

He hitched his breath, desperate to stop this feeling in its tracks. Dying to just not feel this way. It’s not productive. Not going to help. Not going to do anything.

But that horse has long since bolted. Far too late to lock the barn now.

His knees gave way beneath him, and he was left gripping the edge of the mattress as well as that rusty pair of scissors that he had brought up here, squeezing the very life out of cold, unfeeling, all but dead metal.

It hurt to cry, hurt to feel anything in this situation. To realise how close he is to losing all that he holds dear in such a… such a horrific turn of events. He was going home for the holidays and yet he’s here, bawling his pathetic eyes out in the middle of nowhere.

Please. Just one mercy. That’s all he asks. Just one more chance at everything. This isn’t fair. Not a way to…

No.

He can’t die here. Can’t. Won’t.

John Glenn Tracy will not let it end here.

He will survive.

One last chance.

There was one last object of interest in his room. An old letter writing desk, with the cover locked over it and everything. Well, not locked. Simply closed. He undid the catch and opened the desk properly.

That’s when he saw it.

A radio.

Old, battered, dirty. But when he flicked at one of the switches and saw one of the lights turn on… The sight of such a primitive but lifesaving piece of technology brought a swelling feeling of relief washing over him, like a wave crashing over him.

He practically knelt in front of it, transfixed over that tiny little light staring back at him, like a child following a fish around a tank – pure fascination.

It seemed to be working. Definitely capable of sending and receiving transmissions. There was a pair of headphones that he put over his ears, hearing the all too familiar crackle of dead radio signals over the airwaves. He pulled the microphone closer, tapping the metal cover and hearing the thrillingly heart-stopping pom-pom in his ears.

This might work.

This might… actually work!

“Mayday, mayday, this is John Tracy.” He began his announcement, steeling his voice and speaking with the same voice he uses in space, of all places. “I was kidnapped two days ago, and I need assistance. Can anyone hear me?”

The radio cackles back at him. No reply.

Yet.

He begins to repeat his call over the air. “Mayday, mayday, this is John Tracy calling anyone in the area for assistance. Can anyone hear me?”

Still, nothing.

He fiddles with the frequency, turning the dial and listening… waiting for the tiniest, most infinitesimal change in the tone of the sound. A sign that someone was there, someone was able to help.

Call for help. Change frequency. Rinse. Repeat.

“Mayday, mayday…” he felt his throat burn from the repeated calls, the lack of any water provided making what is literally his job much harder than it needs to be.

And the worst part was, it was making the process monotonous. Listening into nothing for ages makes his brain hurt, dehydration providing the backdrop for a migraine that is only going to make this worse. It felt like an eternity, between each broadcast being made and silence received in return. Perhaps he hoped someone was there, just not able to answer, with them fruitlessly hoping he would announce his position.

In fact… what if he tried that? He doesn’t know much, but every little bit helps, right?

“I need help, I was kidnapped, please respond. I’m not sure where I am, an abandoned house I think. Can anyone -”

“… lo?”

John’s heart leapt out of his chest.

A person?

“Is someone there?” he asked, speaking clearer and with more focus than before. “Can someone hear me?”

The pause felt interminable.

“- Tracy, we’re reading you, strength four.”

“Oh, my god, yes!” he couldn’t help but cry out. Finally! He was through, through to someone, he was talking to someone else! “Please, I need help. I’m not sure where I am, but the men, they’ll be back soon. I -”

“I’ve got a general fix on your position based on your transmission, Mr Tracy. Don’t move, I’ve got a search and rescue squad headed for you now. Stand by.”

The last few days felt like a whirlwind of adrenaline for the entire Tracy family, but John was certainly the one feeling the burn in his head even now. Turning over in his bed, cocooned in his darkened bedroom beneath several blankets, he just wanted to sleep forever.

“How are you feeling John?” Scott knocked gently on the door and announced his question without stepping into the threshold.

John stirred, rubbing his eyes as he came around a little more.

“Tired, I think,” he answered, looking at the watch on his wrist and immediately shooting up.

His elder brother marched in, “don’t get up,” Scott said in the Scott Tracy patented do not disobey my words in this moment voice that he’s perfected ever since they were boys.

“It’s nearly two in the afternoon, Scott, I shouldn’t be in bed -” he tried to protest, but he was held down by a gentle hand on the shoulder.

“You must have needed that beauty rest then. You were suffering from fatigue and pneumonia pretty badly.”

John knew he wouldn’t be able to win against his brother, so stood down whilst offering the most pathetic protest. “I’m fine now, Scott. I swear.”

Feeling fine was all he could feel. The police had spoken to him yesterday – or when was it? It feels like months ago – they had managed to track down three men involved in his disappearance. Local gang members in Cincinnati, small time crooks hoping for a big break. Small fish, for lack of a better term. A refined racket for what they had in resources as a bunch of kids and adults with a bone to pick.

Scouts identified targets as taxi drivers, they reported anyone potentially worth robbing, and the rest of the gang did the hard part. Except John wasn’t just worth robbing – he was worth ransom.

Somehow this did not make John feel any better about his survival.

Scott sits himself down on the side of the bed next to him. “It’s easy to say, isn’t it? Yes, physically, you’re fine. But take my word for it. Your brain needs more rest regardless of how your body protests that you want to get up. And I know you want to get up, it must suck to be here like this. But for once, I’m with grandma on this one. You went through a lot and need that rest more than ever.”

His brother adjusted the blanket that was draped over his body. The tattered old thing that’s probably been in the Tracy family since the medieval period. It’s nothing overly special, it’s red and black and just as comfortable – and comforting – as it was when he was a child sick with a fever, chicken pox or anything. Grandma always did know when to bring it out.

John picked a little at the bandage that adorned his hand, pressing it down at the thought of Grandma seeing him mess with it. “Yeah, she does know best.”

Scott took an overexaggerated look around the room. John’s room. Has been since they were very young and still lived here on the family homestead. He was pretty certain that the only thing that’s changed in as many years, aside from them as boys growing into men, is their beds getting progressively bigger until now, when they only occasionally are here to sleep.

“I must say, I am surprised that Dad has left your room unlocked at all,” Scott gave a wry smirk, nodding at the open door.

John returned the grin. “What, you mean he hasn’t locked everyone else’s rooms yet? Put security cameras everywhere?”

“Funnily enough, no.”

“Surprising.”

gggrrroooooooowwl.

Their little conversation was interrupted by John’s stomach, painfully signalling that despite his beauty rest, he needed beauty food now too.

“So nurse Tracy. May I leave the confines of this bedroom for an hour? I should like to stretch my legs and have some food, if I may?”

The elder brother stood up, holding out a hand for him to help his brother up.

“Why of course Mr Tracy. Please, allow me to escort you to the living areas.”

John didn’t need to do much to know that he was home again, with his family, where he belonged.

[nomorefstogive]

Our Dearest Sin Chapter 4: To Fix A Problem (Crossposted on Ao3)

Hello all, this is a copy paste of the newest chapter of my PtN fic on Ao3, as well as my way of letting all of you know that I am in fact, still alive.

Summary:

She was born to do this, to fix the mistakes of others so that those she serves could prosper, and now she once more donned that most dreaded of masks to fulfill her horrific duty, all to insure that the woman she loved would be safe. After all, she was born and made to fix problems.

Notes:

Hello again everyone, I am sorry for the rather lengthy delay that has occurred with me posting this chapter, and for my lengthy silence on tumblr, I was working on a variety of other projects, not just my other fics…namely the 40k plus word chapter for my Azur Lane fic, but also a subreddit that has cropped up that I am quite fond of, r/PrimarchGF. Before we begin, let us offer our thanks to JimBoReee for braving this mess of a fic and acting as our Beta for this chapter, they are a wonderfully talented and creative person so please go and check out their works, you will not be disappointed. A link to their profile: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JimBoReee/pseuds/JimBoReee That said, today we are going to take a slight detour from the wholesomeness and humorous atmosphere of our previous posts and instead take a few steps down a much darker path. I invite you one and all to take a moment to steel yourselves as this will be quite the departure from has been established as the norm of this story, I will attach some trigger warnings below for what this chapter will contain. TW: Murder. Torture. Attempted Murder. Attempted Suicide. Suicide Coercion. Blackmail. Abuse. Mental Torture. Psychological Torture. Hurt No Comfort. Yandere Themes. Shalom Being Angry. Non Consensual Touching, mentioned in one portion. Racism Against Sinners. Implied Homophobia. Manipulation. Mental Trauma. Physical Trauma. Etc. For those of you who are still here, then we welcome you one and all to this newest act in the play of this fic, with that said- Let the show begin!

To Fix A Problem

There is an old saying that goes, “When it rains, it pours”, and as the young man sat at the candlelit table, blood trailing from weeping gashes and narrow cuts as tears that gleamed ever so faintly amidst the light of the flickering flames of the twin candles that sat upon the table before him, eyes so empty as to be mirrors of the Void itself regarding him with cold disdain, he knew it well to be the case of the saying being more than true. 

Dimly the man thought of how this had come to be, how it was that was sat at this table of exquisitely carved mahogany wood, his blood and tears seeping into the plush velvet lining of the chair he sat within as he watched the figure across from him take in his suffering and horror, his cries and screams and blubbered pleas falling upon the sepulchral silence of the room and unflinching face of the one across from him as water upon a duck’s wings, failing to do not but display how futile such actions were in the face of the Absolute before him. 

Eyes heavy lidded with caked blood and stinging with tears shed and un-shed, rested upon the case before him, polished onyx metal of origin unknown casting not the faintest reflection of light and instead seeming to hungrily devour it with grandiose delight as it waited with baited breath for what it knew would come to pass. 

As his trembling fingers began to move to open the container, many times failing to pop the latches that held fast the case like the teeth of some abhorrent maw despite the almost anticipatory ease with which they popped open when he did manage to lay his fingers upon them, the man recalled with another heaving sob how all of this had begun.

It felt like days ago that waking had come to the man not with gentle caress of promises and wonders unseen, but with the bitter stinging whip of pain, a fog of agony such that it tinted the vision white and black as one neared the precipice of oblivion’s sweet embrace once more that would have served to engulf him whole once more were it not for the sudden jostling of the world around him, his bound hands unable to offer any aid as he was flung upwards, an already battered head connecting with solid metal, causing yet more constellations of agony to form.

Tears had slipped unbidden from his eyes, wetting the dried blood that had crusted them near to shut and allowing for the man’s narrow field of haze ridden view to expand somewhat as he his mind sluggishly tried to process just what it was that was happening, though such thoughts and questions were soon vanished as yet once more the world went white with agony as his body was jolted once more, something which prompted broken bones and cuts that had gone mercifully numb to once more sing out in a choir of hellish agony.

The exquisite agony of what felt to be a hundred-hundred razor thin cuts and several snapped and shattered bones should have made the man scream out, wailing like a child holding fast their parents hands amidst a blazing inferno, and yet instead there came but a low and wet groan, vocal chords unresponsive as the man came to be aware of an unnatural feeling of sluggishness that had seized him fast, the feeling having been hidden away behind the sensation of waking and the pain that had soon accompanied it.

His heart had begun to hammer in more than just pain, a sensation of dread enveloping him as a rapidly spreading slick of oil would upon the sea, lungs tried and failed to take fast breaths as each sudden motion caused supernovas of agony to envelop him, forcing him to slow his breath and to try and still his heart, a whimper slipping past the young man’s lips as he tried to take stock of the situation, though his thoughts were in too much a state of disarray to be anything approaching coherent or cohesive. 

Clarity came but ever so briefly, waves of frigid terror enveloping him in an all consuming grasp of such force that the breath he managed to take in left his lungs entirely during theme moments, gasps of horror and despair slipping from torn lips that parted into silent sobs that soon bled way to gasps of pain and then back into whimpers of agony as the clarity vanished once more under the tide of misery. 

Why was he here?

What was going on?

Why was he so badly hurt?

Why were his hands bound?

What was he in?

Where was he?

Again and again these question had come to him during those brief moments, though they were ever left unanswered as the man languished in his misery, his silent sobs growing as the jostling became more and more frequent, his body being cast against what felt to be walls of cold metal, his vision soon went black once more, oblivion swallowing him as a particularly hard jostle sent his head colliding with the wall behind him with such force that consciousness fled him.

As yet another latch upon the case came undone, the man thought to himself that it was far too kind that the striking of his scalp upon the unfeeling metal had not delivered him unto the merciful embrace of the most kind Oblivion, and had instead merely been the briefest of interludes for the pain to come, for soon enough he had been awoken again, the jostling having yielded way to the sound of metal doors being cast open.

He had not had time to even open his mouth before hands reached into the space he was housed within and seized him, his body crying out in agony as the towering figure tore him free of the container, manacles snapping under the strain with which they had torn him from them as he was cast into the mud, the Blue-Rain caressing him with frigid needles as he tried and failed to move away from the being that loomed over him, his movements stopping when he felt a hand seize him by the ankle as the figure began to drag him through the mud, his sobs of pain being drowned out amidst the downpouring rain.

His vision swam, dried blood and fresh mud now blinding him such that he could not discern where it was that he had been taken, only that around him loomed monolithic buildings and streets adorned with cracks and gaping wounds of craters and shattered windows and walls, the stench of filth and mud field his nostrils and the taste of dirt and blood flooded his mouth as he tried and failed to cry out for help before his captor began to haul him down the street, dragging him with a lone hand as though he weighed not but a twig’s burden to them.

Faintly he thought he not only heard his captor speaking, their voice oddly muffled as they spoke into what must have been a phone for a moment before they were silent once more, but that he also saw figures moving amidst the shadows of the buildings that loomed around him, empty windows and doorways seeming to form mocking sneers and cruel smirks that regarded his torment with perverse glee, yet when he blinked the figures were gone and only the iron grip around his ankle that drug him over cracked and shattered streets remained.

At times he thought he smelt something over the rain and filth of the streets he was being hauled down, something almost floral that seemed to mock his senses with its ever faint presence, though such a thing was swiftly banished from his mind as his captor paused in their march to lift a heavy hand and bring it down upon a door of cold metal that lay nestled in the shadow of a building.

After administering but a single knock to the door, the towering figure cast open the heavy construct of cold steel with deft ease, the same ease with which they suddenly flung him into the building, his ribs crying out in agony as a series of sickening cracks and pops sang out from within him as an agonized choir, the loudest and most vocal of said agonies there came when his flight at last ended, his body slamming into a metal pillar, the blow making his world turn white as his mouth parted in a silent scream once more.

As the white left his vision, and darkness began to creep in once more, his blurred vision faintly registered the form of his captor, weeping eyes alighting upon a towering figure clad in what seemed to be some form of uniform odd metal contraptions resting on their arms, and a sneering mask covering the lower part of their face, their visage made all the more horrifying by the baleful crimson scar that burned across their face, the glow of which reflected like hell-fire amidst their baleful eyes as they advanced once more. 

Oblivion claimed him with the blow of a boot to his head, and the faintest sound of mocking chuckles echoing from the shadows that now loomed to devour him. 

*Tap*

His reverie was broken by the sound of a single manicured nail tapping the wooden table, a look of disapproval flickering into those abyssal eyes as the figure across from him regarded him with glacial apathy, yet beneath that apathy and within that void that swirled were a soul should be within their eyes, he saw the faintest flicker of something that bid his trembling hands move with due speed, trembling fingers fumbling the latches once more before he at last managed to pop yet another open.

A flicker of a smile graced the face of the one across from him, sharp and cold, the edge of a scalpel ready to peel through his flesh and let him bleed across the floor before her…no it’s arctic gaze as the figure watched with cruel anticipation as yet another latch came open before the man paused once more, yet more plaintive cries and whimpers beginning to form on his lips as he saw the light of the candle ever so faintly reflect off of a dark amethyst gem that lay embraced in a band of silver.

The sight of it making his heart begin to hammer once more, tears beginning to trail from his eyes as he fought the urge to fall to his knees and beg and plea to the figure before him once more, he had long come to realize that even the most desperate and humiliating of please and cries for mercy would fall upon ears that seemed to be cast from the same glacial stone that the figure’s heart had been for all of the good that they seemed to do.

Indeed, all said please had ever managed to warrant from the figure was a disapproving look before they beckoned towards the towering woman that stood behind him, hands strong enough to pulverize bone lifting him up and then slamming him into either the pillar she had been leaning against or the floor before she tossed him back into his chair, a snarl of seemingly apocalyptic fury scorching its way from her throat as she seemed to be held back from taking his life by some unseen hand or order as she left him there before returning to her post.

Again there came a loud snap to fill the otherwise silent room, the shadows seeming to come alive as they writhed and danced in an obscene serpentine manner, tongues of darkness caressing his body and vision as her looked at the final latch on the case, faintly he thought there came, from depths unseen, a chorus of voices, mocking and derisive, so potent their disdain and contempt for him that his blood ran as ice, though with but a blink the looming darkness and mocking words vanished as his hand hovered over the final latch. 

Swallowing down a wave of vertigo and nausea, the man looked up at the figure across from him, bloodshot eyes of dark oaken brown caked in bruises and mud meeting glacial light purple eyes, as the man forced himself to speak up once more, his gaze flickering from the figure’s eyes to the ring that it had sat before it. 

“Y-you promise…” He coughed up a wad of blood and flem that landed on his pants, a moment being taken to catch his breath before he lifted his head once more to continue his final plea to the figure before him. 

“You promise me you’ll leave them alone? They…they had nothing to do with this…this was all me and those dumbasses, leave my family out of it.” His voice, hoarse and yet oh so faint, weak to the brink of shattering and yet resonating with the last few strands of great strength the man could summon forth filled the room, the stillness that followed his words seeming fit to crush him under its weight even as it deafened him with its intensity. 

For a moment there was only the sound of the the creaking of the attire of the figure behind him as he watched the thing in human skin across from him tilt its head in silent thought for several moments, light purple eyes looking down at the ring in contemplation before the figure at last spoke up, that haunting voice, the dulcet tone of the Devil as he purred in your ear, broke the silence as well. 

“As I told you before, I will not lay a hand on them, nor will any of my subordinates. So long as you keep your end of the deal, then nothing will happen to them, but should you fail… then I cannot vouch for their safety.” The thing finished its statement with that faux smile, something that would not have looked out of place on a mannequin of porcelain and plaster, yet upon the face of a human did not but lend to it a visage of something alien and horrific, a perverse mockery of human life so naked in its debauched falsity that it was sickening to behold. 

With a heavy sigh of relief, the man took a deep breath, the tranquil calmness of someone who knew that they now stood at the end of their journey enveloping him as he popped the final latch of the case, taking a single moment to take in a breath before he opened it and let his eyes behold the contents of the case.

In the same vein as the exterior of the case, the interior was made of a stygian material designed to gently envelop and shield the contents of the case, said contents being little more than a single vial, barely the size of his index finger and yet seeming to be as large as the very planet itself as it say there before him, the dark crimson liquid semeing to radiate a glow of baleful scarlet so intense that it cast some of the shadows of the room aside, the darkness seeming to flee the encroaching light as though it was the scythe of Death itself. 

Faintly, the man noted how the scarlet light seemed to have a mind of its own, tendrils and garlands of dark crimson and brighter scarlet energy hungrily caressing each exposed inch of the room that it could, wisps of energy caressing the towering figure behind him as a master would an obedient pet, with a similar gesture being granted unto the figure that sat before him, the crimson glow seeming to cast upon those light violet eyes the glow of hellfire. 

Still enveloped in the tranquility of finality did them an reach out and pick up the vial, sparks of a sensation not electric or searing or frigid, yet some perverse amalgamation of each of them racing through his skin and into his very blood like a tidal wave of jagged glass that cut and tore and shredded all it touched, leaving behind mangled wounds that soon found themselves smoothed over in a deluge of scarlet power that twisted and made mockery of the very nature of the human soul. 

His hand was no longer his own. 

Of its own accord, as though possessed of a will more ancient and malign then the hideous expanse of the cosmos that seemed to swirl and churn around the Scarlet Moon that had crested over the Broken Frontline in that very moment, did his fingers gently pop the cork off the vial, ever so carefully bringing it to his lips even as his body unconsciously tried to jerk away from the vial before him.

Those same hands that had nearly snapped him like a twig now lashed out once more, fingers seemingly formed of granite and rebar in their unyielding might digging into his face as his mouth was forced open, gloves dense enough that his teeth could have done not but ever so faintly tickle skin beneath keeping him in place as they and that was once his own brought the vial to his mouth and began to upend it. 

As the first drop touched his tongue the man realized that he had been wrong, it was not liquid, more some form of semi-solid gelatinous mass, perhaps more likable to plasma than anything else found in nature or crafted by the hands of man and monster alike, began to flow down his throat, the same alien sensation that had engulfed his hand now enveloping his body entirely as waves of agony like nothing he could ever no washed over him again and again. 

Faintly, he realized that he was seizing, his body rebelling with all that it had, each and every base cell and molecule warring against the horrific might that now began to dig into him with ravenous fury, frigid and molten glass shards tearing him apart over and over again as liquid tides of molten agony assailed him at the same moment clouds of scarlet suffering flooded his lungs, choking his cries before they could leave his lips. 

At once his body felt full and empty, as though each drop of blood, each minute molecule had gained great and terrible weight one moment, only to flicker out of existence and leave him adrift in a senseless shell of misery the next, with the constant fluctuations of sensations tearing at his mind, razored claws sinking into succulent flesh as the fangs of madness began to gnaw hungrily at his mind, pits of madness beckoning ever so sweetly-

“Stop.”

Yet to him was such mercy denied, for there came over the agony that drowned out all else a voice that was not a voice, a weight and sensation that forced itself into his mind with the might of an avalanche, power so suffocating that it left his breath frozen in his lungs as his bodily functions ceased in obeisance to the order. 

A triangular mark filled his vision, parting the sanguine and onyx haze that had so mercifully enveloped him the silver white glow of the mark burning with such radiance that he could do not but attempt to flee its encroaching blaze, though to no avail was this mental flight, for garlands of ivory enveloped him as razor wire, pulling him into a realm of burning light and searing agony, his mind bound and shackled fit to do not but linger at the whims of the Mark.

“OBEY.”

Words yet not words, sensations yet not sensations, thoughts not his own and yet born in his mind echoed within his head as the Mark seared itself into him, nameless terror enveloping him for reasons he knew not as he languished in the unyielding grip of the Mark and of its horrific Will, though more there came for yet another voice low and soft, like the most gentle of spring breezes came into his ears, words unknowable to him mixing with the scorching orders of the Mark.

At last there came reprieve, when he felt the most tender of touches upon his chin, his vision flickering to see a new pair of eyes, their color so eerily reminiscent of the Devil’s and yet somehow worse in the cruel delight that gleamed in them as that soothing voice purred into his ears once more.

“Sleep now.”

His world went black. 

For how long this lasted he knew not, only that when he at last came to his senses it was to yet more pain, his body crying out in a thousand-thousand different tongues as he lay sprawled across an ochre floor of an empty room, table and chair and case and Monsters gone, leaving him alone in a puddle of his own blood and bodily waste, bile forming a halo around his head. 

With a whimper of the agony of flayed and torn nerves did the man try and force himself to rise, his bones feeling like shattered glass that cut and tore at him from within as he tried to force his arms and left to obey, only to fail as he fell down with yet another cry, tears flowing freely down his face as he desperately called out for mercy, though mercy there came none, for alone he laid in his own waste and tears. 

How long had he laid there in misery, hours, days, weeks? 

He could not say, only that there came at one point amidst the agonized delirium that had enveloped him a caress so saccharine in its gentleness that he could not have ignored it even had his mind not been on the brink of total annihilation, and so it was that as that most delicate of caresses swept through his very soul that he found the resolve to once more try to rise. 

It was agony, near to the absolute most sublime in its totality and might, yet still it was less than what had once assailed him when he had tried to force himself to rise, and thus it was that he could grit his teeth till he heard them crack as he rose from the floor, a joyful cry slipping past his lips as he did so. 

His arms braced around the pillar that the Beast of the Monster had once rested against, the man felt tears begin to slide down his cheeks once more, though these were not just born of the agony that assailed him, but also of the joy that filled him at being able to move, to walk, to live once more. 

He had thought the Devil had meant to kill him with the poison in that vial, some form of sorcery born of land’s unknown no doubt, or perhaps even the result of some form of Witchcraft of those Abominations that were corrupted by Mania, perhaps it had been too weak compared to his own will, perhaps the pain had been the fullest extent of it’s promise of suffering. 

A low chuckle, delirious and maddened, slipped past his lips as he began to force himself to move through the building once more, each step prompting flashes of white hot agony to assail him, though even such misery could do nothing to stop his smile from growing and his heart from singing. 

Yes, the Devil had failed to kill him, and now he had the chance to go back to his family, this time wisened by his agony and suffering, at last ready to heed the words of wisdom his wife had spoken to him and try a new lease on his life. 

He would go home, hold his beloved and kiss her as if his life depended on it, then he would hug his children and kiss their foreheads, sure they would have to move, perhaps even leave Dis itself if that Devil’s words about what it and its fellows had discovered was true, but all of that paled to just being able to be with them again.

‘I never should have let that dumbass talk me into it,’ he thought to himself as he braced himself against the wall he knew to be near the door, ‘fucking idiot couldn’t even do the job right!’  

A flash of irritation tore through him at the final thought, his hand clenching into a fist before it struck the wall, tears beginning to fall once more as he thought of all he would have to do to protect his family now, the company so long built up would have to be liquidated, their assets joining it before they left Dis, their names, perhaps even their faces, needing to be changed to avoid being found by the Snake and its pets. 

All he could do is hope that the Devil kept her word and that the rest of the Snake’s Monsters did not find before him and his had managed to flee the city, but he-

There was something on the door.

He blinked in confusion as he saw a piece of white paper held fast to the door, perhaps by tape or glue he could not tell, the immaculate white paper standing in stark contrast to the dark metal of the door, and making it seem as bright as the sun to him as he walked towards it, drawn by that ever so delicate pull. 

With a final pained groan he managed to get before the door, his hands braced on either side of the metal door as he lifted his head to look at the paper before him, a single word staring at him in simple print.

A word that made his world go white.

The word in question?

Hush.

Line Break

He blinked as he came to his senses once again, his head throbbing such that his vision was not but a flickering haze of agony, objects being near one second and far the next,each of them enveloped in a haze of grayish white that left him unable to fully process just what it was that was going on around him, let alone where it was that he was.

Unbidden he tried to take a step forward, his footing giving out in the next moment as he landed upon his front, his chin striking solid wood with force enough that he felt his teeth crack within his jaws, blood beginning to drip past his lips and onto the ground as he let out another low whimper of pain. 

For several moments he laid there, his vision darkened near to total blackness as he tried to make sense of what it was that was going on as he rolled onto his side, curling into a ball as he tried to wait for the pain to fade enough so that he could try to rise once more, something which seemed to last several moments of laying amidst a pool of his own blood and what felt like a stick carpet that clung to his body.

What must have been a few hours passed before the man was able to force himself to rise once more, his vision swimming in agony as he tried and failed to brace himself against what he could only assume to be a wall, with his hands failing to grasp the material due to an odd wetness that clung to them, with him falling down once more, though this time he was able to stop himself before he could fully fall his slick fingers digging into the carpet with as much force as they could as the man tried to force himself to rise to his feet once more.

Once more did he wait for several moments before he rose again, this time crawling froth on all fours as he looked up, a glimmer of light passing through what seemed to be a cracked door beckoning him forth as once more there came that saccharine pull, this time it came as a spreading of morphine, dulling his pain enough so that he could rise to his feet and stagger through the door, the light blinding him for several moments. 

How he wished it had blinded him forevermore. 

The first thing he noted when his vision came back to him was the mirror that rested before him, his eyes alighting on a mud and filth and blood caked face as though it was the visage of a stranger, his eyes were so bloodshot that he could not even discern the original color of them, only the paths blazed by his tears revealed his fair skin and the freckles that adorned it.

‘I know everything about you. Who you are. Where you come from. Where your family came from. Where you work. Where you had your first kiss. Even where and when it was that you made love to your wife for the first time.’ 

A chuckle slipped from his lips as he leaned down, turning on the sinks taps to pool water into its basin to splash on his face, a sigh of bliss slipping past his lips as he watched more and more of his face, of himself, become visible as more and more of the mud and blood and grime fell into the drain, staining the once cleaned ivory to near black, though he paid it no mind. 

‘I also know where your children go to school, who their teachers are, who their friends are, and where said friends and their families live. Your eldest son, Marquel needs to brush up on his mathematics, a C- at his age is quite a poor showing, even your youngest Gabriel is doing better than him with a B+.’ 

Groaning in bliss he reached out to grab at a towel he saw resting near the mirror, savoring each moment it touched his yet tender flesh as he dried his face, a moment spent basking in the softness of the material of the towel before he removed it from his face and tossed it aside. 

Yet as he tossed it aside, something caught his eye, something that to most would have been the most innocuous and meaningless of things, and yet to him was as monolithic in its imposing grandeur and the terror that it managed to stoke in him, such a small and fragile thing that made him turn to the door and begin to tear free from the room even as pain assailed him in full once more.

The plastic soldier, standing at attention beside the small toothbrush as though it were its nations flag, caked in blood such that the whites and blues of its armor were drowned near to brown, watched him go with dead eyes even as the pain tore at him with ravenous fingers, the saccharine pull vanishing as a cloyingly sweet laughter rang out in his head, the agony joining it in a chorus of mocking misery. 

‘A snap of my fingers, a word spoken in a single ear, and all that you love and know can and will vanish into the aether as if it never existed in the first place…A threat? Huh, I suppose it is fair to assume that you would not understand the severity of your situation, perhaps this can help you understand things. 

*Clink*

The jeweler lied to you by the way, the diamond is nowhere near as pure valuable as she led you to believe, I believe hse overcharged you by about 235.23 Discoins, though that is not taking the changes that taxes have undergone since you purchased the ring into account.

I assume you understand me now, correct?’

His shoulder slammed into the wall with enough force that the drywall gave way to form a small hole that snared him in place for a moment before he was able to pull himself free and begin to race down the hallway, or rather try to race down the hallway as once more his footing gave out on him and he fell onto his front, carpet burn assailing his face even as he tried and failed to rise once more. 

Tears had begun to fall as rain from his eyes as his heart thundered such that all other sound vanished amidst the roaring backdrop of terror fueled adrenaline, his lips moving in incomprehensible cries and gibbering pleas that failed to rise above whimpers and groans as he forced himself to move down the hall once more, crawling his way forward once more, mad hope and terror fueling his flight. 

‘I’m glad to see you understand the weight of my words now Elliot, but you don’t need to be so afraid, I am well aware that you were not the only guilty party in this situation, in fact your role was quite minor, but it still warrants punishment. 

Though if that punishment involves your loved ones or not is up to you, if you do what I ask then your family will be spared any attacks by my hand, and I will do the best that I can to mitigate the actions of my fellows, though the most I can promise is a head start to escape them.

Do you want to hear my offer?’

Elliot could swear that there was laughter echoing amidst the agony, mocking and coy it haunted his every step as he tried and failed to force himself forward once more, his strength failing him as he fell down into the sticky carpet once more, though this time he was able to see just what it was that had made it so sticky.

‘All you have to do is take responsibility for your deeds and show that you are willing to earn your second chance, and while this may sound daunting, I assure you that it is not as difficult as you think.’

His eyes widened to the fullest they could, a sob slipping past his lips as he began to cry in full, a soundless shriek leaving his lips as he beheld the scene before him, his already frayed and tattered mind beginning to tear at the seams entirely, though merciful madness was once more denied to him by twin mental grips, forcing him to remain aware and cognizant of what it was that lay before him. 

Heaving sobs slipped past his lips as he began to blubber, his tears blinding him, though doing nothing to lessen the horrible clarity of vision that plagued him as he beheld the scene before him. 

‘All you have to do-’

At last Elliot found his voice, at last he found himself able to speak, and speak he did, a low whisper of a mind on the verge of shattering and yet denied such merciful oblivion, a word that once made his heart swell with joy but now tore at him with talons of burning ichor. 

“Mel-mela-melanie?”

‘-is Die.’

His wife’s severed head stared back at him.

Distantly Elliot noted that chunks of her scalp had been torn away to reveal the white of her skull, which had similarly been fractured and torn in many an area to reveal the pinkish hue of her brain, as though by the maws of some great beast, her eyes, once the most wonderous shade of sea-foam green he had ever seen had shared in her brains fate, as they seemed to have been torn free of their sockets, with not but ichorus tears to flow to mark where the eyes had once been.

Lips adorned with the light blue lipstick that she was so fond of had been torn and split such that her teeth would have been visible in many spots even had her mouth not been fixed into an expression of horrid terror and agony even in death. 

Her body…was everywhere.

Draped over the ceiling fan and across the chairs and couch, caking the walls and ceiling and carpets and even the table and TV, was her body, her skin and bones and blood and organs all laying in a chaotic mess that field the air with a fetid aroma that he was only now aware of, his senses having gone blind to it until he focused on the scene before him. 

With all the strength Elliot had left in his body he forced himself forward on his hands and knees, delicately lifting his beloved’s head to into his lap as heaving sobs tore from his him, filling the silence of the room, cries and anguished howls soon joining them as he found his breath returning to him as quickly as it left his burning lungs. 

Distantly he recalled the words Melanie had spoken to him nearly a week ago, when she had pulled him aside from their construction company’s meeting with that…Thing from the MBCC. 

‘I don’t care what you think about Sinners or about her! If this investigation goes well for us and we get the job, then we can have more doors open to us than ever before, so keep your mouth shut, smile and play nice or you had best be fuckign ready to sleep in that car of yours!’

As Elliot held his wife’s head close to him, his world becoming nothing but the howling cries of anguish that slipped past his lips and the warmth of what blood had yet to dry seeping from her mangled stump and onto him, he could not help but recall how he had thought her to be mad to even consider playing nice around such things as that woman and her pets, but now he knew better, his wife had been right the whole time.

As he cradled Melanie’s head he thought to himself of how it had come to this, how stupid he had been to even consider that fucking stupid plan to be anything more than the ramblings of a delusional fool spoken amidst a shared drunken stupor. 

A moment of joy at seeing a figure collapse to the ground in agony as a bullet tore its way through her chest, two cones of ice cream falling to the ground as she did so all while his cousin remarked how disappointed he was that they didn’t take her alive, was not worth the price of his beloved and his…oh…oh God no…

“Ma-Marquel? Gab-Ga-Gabriel?” He managed to choke out, a whimpering sob barely above a whisper at first, though soon he managed to force his lungs to cry it out louder, hoping beyond hope for a reply, though none there came. 

Tears spilling from his eyes, Elliot delicately set his Melanie’s head down on the ground as he forced himself to rise, his eyes roving over the living room and thankfully not alighting upon the mangled corpses of his children, though of little comfort was this when he was once again faced with the viscera painted walls of his living room, bile barely held back from spilling past his lips as he forced himself to turn and-

Something clattered on the opposite end of the hall…right where his sons shared room was.

It could barely have even been called a plan, being born of his anger at losing such a lucrative contract and his wife’s misplaced anger at him, alongside of his deluded fool cousin and his own hatred for both the Things that the Snake used as it soldiers and the Thing that lead the organization, her refusal of his advances, and the sickness on her face when he had tried to touch her, along with the punch she had given him, having only solidified his disdain for her to the point of the fools idea. 

Without a thought he began to race towards the hall with as much haste as he could muster as he called out his son’s names once more, barely averting falling face first onto the carpet several times as he did so, his mad dash ending when he rammed into the wall at the end of the hallway, his shoulder screaming out in agony, though he paid its desperate cries no mind as he turned to the doorway

Barely had the noise begun to grow before he had lunged forward, smashing aside the door with all the force that he could muster, the wood giving way under him with much greater ease than he thought it would, though he paid this little mind as he lifted his head to see what it was that had caused the commotion.

The first thing he saw was his children, their faces soaked in tears and mucus as they huddled together in a corner, Marquel having taken up the metal baseball bat he had given him as a birthday gift in defense of his brother, uncaring of the blood dripping down from a weeping gash upon his brow and what seemed to be a shattered arm as he stood before the trembling form of Gabriel, the youngest of his sons having closed his eyes and covered his ears as he wailed. 

The second thing that caught his eye was what it was that loomed over his children, and what was currently lunging at him, scything blades for claws aimed directly at his throat even as a maw of needle like teeth opened with a howling shriek to tear out his throat should the claws fail to do their mission. 

With a cry Elliot leapt backwards, narrowly avoiding the claws that came within a hair's breadth of his neck, the fetid reek of unwashed flesh adorned with scars and pockmarks that hung loosely from its unnatural form filling his nose as soulless white eyes set upon a field of sanguine tainted eyes met his own, hunger and hate beyond all sane comprehension burning as hellfire within them as the creature moved forth again. 

Yet helpless prey he was not, for with all the fury he could summon forth to protect his children he lunged forward meeting the beast charge with a shoulder check that sent it sprawling against the base of the bed, the creature barely having had time to right itself before Elliot was atop it, a wordless roar slipping past his lips as he seized its arms by the wrists, his head meeting its own with a headbut that made his vision blur, but prompted the beast to cry out as its head flung backwards.

“RUN NOW!” Elliot yelled out to his sons, barely having time to register the sound of what he assumed to be Gabriel racing past him as his brother cried out for him, the smaller child fleeing past his father and down the hall, with his eldest following him as soon as the beast let out a roar of its own and began to fight back, a snarl slipping past its lips as it slammed its own head forward in full, the headbut being made more damaging as the beast’s fangs sunk into the tip of his nose, the creature throwing its head back as it tore the chunk of flesh free from his face with a cry of pain. 

Though soon the pain faded as adrenaline seized him in an iron grip, his vision tunneling until he could see not but the creature before him, his hearing becoming not but the sounds of his thundering heart and the shrieking howls of the beast as the two fought, furniture being flung aside and shattered as the two grappled, Elliot narrowly avoiding the needle like fangs as he held the beasts hands by the wrist so as to avoid its claws.

For a time their battle seemed to be a stalemate, neither gaining nor losing ground until at last an opportunity came for Elliot to gain the upperhand in their struggle, as one of the boys stray socks, something he had reminded them time and again to pick up, was caught under the beast’s foot with the creature slipping backwards as Ellito took advantage of the space made to relinquish his grip on the beasts arms as he lifted his leg up and brought his foot down as hard as he could onto the creatures head.

A loud crack filled the room as the beast’s head met contact with the hard wood of the dresser, a whine that soon bled into a shrieking cry slipping past the beast’s lips as it tried to rise and lunge forward once more, only to be denied the chance as Elliot lifted up the closest object he could find, in this case Marquel’s computer monitor, and brought it down with as much force as he could on the beast’s head.

The first blow seemed to stun the creature as it fell backwards once more, its hands lifting up to shield itself from the following attack as Elliot rained down strike after strike, the monitor cracking and fracturing as he brought it down again and again, acrid brown blood that reeked of rot and decay tainting the monitor and the beast’s arms and the ground around it as the broken glass of the monitor, shattered after a hard blow, bit into its skin.

Howls and cries slipped past the beast’s lips as it fought to defend itself, one clawed hand slipping from over it face to grasp a handful of dirty clothes that it cast at Elliot’s face, the sudden act making Elliot lose his momentum as he had to swat aside the clothes, only to be met with the beast ramming into him with full force, the blow sending him crashing into the ground as the creature took the chance leap past him, cries of agony slipping past its lips as it fled in the same direction as his boys had run. 

A roar slipping past his lips, Elliot forced himself to his feet as he grasped the broken monitor once more before he tore out of the room, slamming into the door to his and Melanie’s room as he did so, any thoughts of racing inside to acquire the hand-gun he had under his bed being tossed aside as he heard a commotion near his front door, adrenaline and rage driving him forth to abandon all logic as he raced down the hall to where he could see the beast trying to claw open the door, one hand hanging limply at an off angle and the other so slick with blood it seemed to have given the door a new paint job.

Seeing a chance to finish this battle, Elliot raced forward, the monitor raised high as he prepared to-

*CRASH*

The wall beside the door erupted in a shower of drywall and plaster, a hulking form lunging forward with speed that it should not have been able to possess,one hand, the size of Elliot’s own head seizing the monitor and tearing it from his grasp before he could bring it down, the titanic hand seizing his wrist with a bone breaking grip as the other collided with his face with all the force of a sledgehammer, his vision swimming as darkness lashed hungrily at the edges of his sight for a moment before the figure brought another blow directly into his stomach, the blow nearly making him vomit as he staggered back before being jerked forward and hit once more.

The last sight he saw before darkness claimed him, was the creature that had butchered his wife and nearly torn apart his sons as well, seeming to flicker and shimmer, its form distorting and changing before his eyes at impossible speeds as soon he saw the form the creature had taken. 

His wife.

His Melanie caked in her own blood, a broken hand being held to her side as figures adorned in full black armor pulled her from the home.

Armor adorned with the symbol of a silver double-headed serpent coiled around an M. 

Line Break.

How long ago had that been…the passage of time had become so distorted to him that Elliot could no longer tell whether it had been hours, days, or even weeks since the day when his world had been torn apart.

He could only recall in vague distorted flickers the way that he had awoken in a brightly lit room, his arms and legs restrained as he sat bound to a chair, a woman with aqua colored eyes that seemed fit to glaze over in permafrost from the sheer intensity of the frigid glare she had fixed upon him,  standing across from him, her fingers clutching a clipboard so tightly that he thought it might snap in twain under the strain of her grip.

Vaguely, he noted how her lips were moving, each syllable seeming to come through gritted teeth as she spoke to him, yet her words were unintelligible, as though spoken through great volumes of water, with only the emotion present in each word reaching him, for no matter how hard it was that the woman tried to maintain the facade of a professional there was only so much she could prevent the seemingly ever growing fury that had taken root within her from seeping into her words.

Dimly he noted that she was not alone, his eyes were barely able to pick up the presence of two other figures standing with the woman, one whose gender he could not discern stood with a shield attached to their arm, their blue eyes were narrowed near to slits as visibly restrained themself from taking action.

The third figure was one he could not fully see, only vaguely registering that there was a figure steeped in the shadows in a corner of the room, a gaze as sharp as a razor blade fixated on him, with all the lethality of the same blade being drug across an exposed jugular, as the figure silently watched the going ons.

Faintly, he thought he smelled something floral…something familiar though he could not tell where from, when he focused on that corner.

“*** *** ******** ** **!?” 

The aqua eyed woman snapped at him, the words were  yet still unintelligible, though the sheer weight of the frigid anger that coated them in permafrost made all too clear that whatever it was she had said was something that required his attention, though he knew not how to respond.

But Elliot could not respond, his mouth refusing to move under his command, no words he wanted to say leaving his lips as the woman visibly grew yet more angered at his silence, with her seemingly at last losing the battle with her patience as she moved to stand before him, the weight of her glare increasing till he felt he would be ground into dust beneath it were she to not avert it soon. 

“******* **!” 

Again she spoke, and yet again he could not understand her, the distortion that enveloped her words seeming to mock him as he struggled to try and discern just what it was that was happening at this moment, his mind and body weighted down yet still by some form of torpor which served to only further hinder him from responding to the woman or making sense of what was going on in the room.

The woman seemed to only grow in her fury at his silence, her teeth visibly gritting against themselves for a moment before she closed her eyes and took a deep breath, an ominous stillness, like that before a great storm broke, enveloping her form before she turned about on her heel and began to walk away, seemingly calling out to the figure by the door as she moved to leave the room.

Desperately, Elliot raged against whatever force it was that held his tongue still, trying with all of the might that his enfeebled body possessed to try and speak up, to try and plead for answers to what was going on, where he was, and why he was bound…

And this time his body acquiesced to his demand, though not in the way he wished.

“She deserved it.”

At first he did not know where the words came from, for he could not believe that he was capable of speaking words so heavily coated in frigid acid as the those three words had been, but when he saw the woman go still, the eyes of her guard widening as their lips parted in surprise, he knew that they had come from him.

But he had not spoken them, Elliot knew that, he had not thought those words, nor had he tried to say them, so why was it that they had-

“What did you just say?”

At last the distortion passed, the words emerging from the depths of some sea of unintelligible gibberish to grace his ears with the frigid fury of a blizzard as the woman turned her head to look at him, the lone aqua eye that was visible seeming fit to catch alight with a flame of arctic frigidity as she gazed at him.

Beside her, elliot noted how the guard’s jaw had clenched their arms visibly straining with the effort it took to hold themself back from lunging forward and hitting him with their shield with all of the strength that they could muster, something they were prevented from doing but by their own professionalism.

Though that thin strand was in danger of soon snapping as their own temper began to grow. 

From the shadows across the room there came shuffling sounds as unseen figures clenched their weapons and readied themselves to lunge should the order be given or their tempers boil over too much.

Though none of this horrified Elliot more than the realization that it was not so much his body could not speak, as much as it was that he could not speak through his body, his form moving of its own volition as it spoke once more, his struggles against the words that began to slip past his lips being drowned out by the flicker of a blazing triangle and a wordless command that echoed as thunder in his mind.

‘OBEY.’

And obey his body did, as words began to pour forth once more, each syllable prompting the horror Elliot felt to grow, his eyes kept from widening in terror only by the commands that seemed to have seized fast his body in an all consuming grip.

“I said that whore you call your ‘Chief’ deserved what happened to her, all she had to do was spread her legs for someone like she does for all of you freaks and none of thi-” His words died on his lips as something struck him across the face with enough force to cast himself and his chair to the ground, blood beginning to drip from a split lip across his cheek as hands clad in leather gloves seized him by the collar and lifted him up as the shadows violently shifted and stirred, whispers of malice baying for blood held firm by a silent order from another.

Elliot looked up, his eyes meeting the aqua colored eyes of the woman who had eben interrogating him a moment earlier, her eyes were wide and her pupils shrunken to pinpricks as she held her clipboard before her, ready to swing it with all the force she could muster, though it was not her who had stuck him, for such an honor belonged to the third figure, who now stood before him in full.

A lengthy cane of silver metal was wordlessly lifted up to allow for the figure, a woman clad in a white hat with a feather upon it, a white coat, which hung loosely from her shoulders, a purple shirt with a dark plum colored tie, a chest harness, and a gray skirt and high black boots, to wipe away the blood and saliva that lay atop its base with a handkerchief held in black leather glove clad hands. 

With an unspoken command she directed her only visible eye, a green that seemed to have been engulfed in the frigid malice of the 9th circle of hell itself, to the guard who had stood beside the door, the figure offering a silent nod before they stepped forward, the crunching of the ground under their boots and the way the light cast their form in shadow as they loomed over him only serving to make Elliot’s heart hammer yet louder still as he braced for the attack to come.

Yet no attack came, instead the guard moved to seize him in an iron grip, self-control of near divine proportion battling with an inferno that burned within their eyes, waves of hellfire coming alight and threatening to sear away his flesh and bone and even his very soul should that control fail, though for now the rage was throttled, held fast in place by will and restraint alone as she sat him back up, pausing but to direct their gaze at the cane wielding woman after she had done so.

“Cinnabar, would you please take our little Songbird and go and get some rest,” her words were delivered in a tone that brook no dissent, steel as unyielding as it was sharp forming each words as she moved to stand before him, bidding the guard, Cinnabar, to move aside.

Again his lips opened of their own accord, words of hateful condemnation forming atop his tongue and readied to spill out yet again, though this time it was upon his own tongue they died for just as the first few slurs had begun to slip past his lips had their gazes met.

The fly looked into the eyes of the Spider.

Elliot felt his heart freeze, blood turning to glacial water as eyes of frigid emerald bore into his very soul like the fangs of a spider, faintly he noted the scar that rested above one her eyes, though he paid it little mind as the longer he stared into those eyes, the more he thought he felt the sensation of spider legs crawling upon him, strands of silk binding him fast as he tried and failed to get himself free from a suffocating grip as the woman watched him writhe.

Salvation from the terror that had seized him came in the most unlikely of forms as a voice spoke up from behind the woman.

“Director tha-” The Adjutant was cut off by the woman rapping her cane on the ground, a small series of spider-web cracks radiating from where the metal tip had struck the concrete below them, her hat now covered both of her eyes as she took a deep breath before she turned to look over her shoulder at the Adjutant, aqua meeting emerald as he silently awed at the Adjutant enduring the stare without flinching, let alone quaking as he did. 

For a moment their gazes were locked, with the somewhat smaller woman nodding her head at last as she turned to allow for the other figure to escort her out, though just as she had begun to walk away, and the woman’s gaze had turned back towards him, the smaller woman called out once more.

“Director.” The taller woman turned her head just enough to both keep an eye on him and to look at the woman over her shoulder, the smaller woman pausing to take a deep breath to steel herself before she spoke once more.

“Should I send… them in?” 

Again there came a brief pause, stillness such that Elliot dared not to even breath for fear of disturbing it enveloping the room in an all encompassing grip, a silence so deafening that even the thundering of his heart seemed to be swallowed amidst the cacophony of total silence.

And then the silence broke, words spoken with such naked cruel delight that Elliot could not fight the whimper that tore from his lips the phantom control of his body allowing for the action seemingly out of mockery of his plight as the woman turned her gaze towards him, her lips curling up into the smile of  a victorious predator.

The smile of a spider seeing a particularly juicy fly caught in its web. 

“Go ahead, the more the merrier.” 

The aqua haired woman offered a nod before she and the guard left the room, barely a few moments seeming to have passed before he once more heard the sound of approaching footsteps, the cane wielding woman that had been called ‘Director’ by the aqua haired woman not bothering to turn as a truly titanic figure entered the room.

Hair like midnight fell around eyes of burning silver, a sneering mask-

Silver eyes glared down at him from above a demonic mask, veins of blazing scarlet spread across the figure's face like fingers of hellsfire reaching out to caress them with a lover’s possessiveness. 

No.

No, no, no, no-

With but a pair of swift strides the woman had entered the room and moved to take her place beside the door, her eyes watching him like a ravenous beast would a cut of choice meat, bloodlust and hunger seeming to be held at bay but by the grace of some form of unseen restraint-

She leaned against the pillar behind him as he looked at the case before him, her gaze the silent promise of a guillotine blade as he fought down his sobs and terror as he tried to steady his trembling hands enough to open the case before him.

If she was here…if this beast was here then-

“Well, this is quite rare, Director Langley.” 

A voice that would haunt his nightmares till the day he died filled the room, soft and gentle, so delicate that it seemed as though a stray breeze could silence it forever, and yet that fragility did nothing to lessen the terror Elliot felt as a woman entered the room. 

Black heels clicking on the floor as a figure clad in a white dress and large coat entered the room-

His face was smashed into the stone floor with such force his vision swam, blood filling his mouth as a silent cry of pain slipped from his lips as he was made to prostrate himself before the figure sitting before him, his pain filled gaze and humiliated state reflected back at him from the mirror sheen of those shoes as the frail figure gazed at him with the weight of black holes behind her empty eyes. 

Light purple eyes met his own as rose colored lips curled into a small smile-

She watched him with a gaze more reminiscent of a statue than that of a human, no flicker of anger or joy, sorrow or fear, pleasure or pain daring to cross her features as he looked at the wedding ring she had laid on the table before him.

“Normally, you can’t stand to be in the same room as me, let alone work with me.” That ever so delicate voice spoke up once more as the woman moved to stand with this Director Langley, a small smile on her face as the other woman regarded her with an expression of such faux joviality a blind man could have seen through it.

“Don’t get used to it, Hush.” The way the Director spoke that name, Hush, it was as though it physically made her ill to even utter the first few syllables of it, let alone the whole word, something which the smaller woman seemed to pay no mind to as she patiently waited for her to continue. 

“I just want to make sure we get as much as we can out of him and your… talents alongside of our dear therapist will make sure that we get everything we need and more.” Again there came a tone of disgust and displeasure, her smile slipping into a thin scowl for but a moment before she turned her head towards the other figure that had entered the room. 

A woman holding a golden pocket watch stepped forward, her long hair flowing with every step she took, the coat she wore over one shoulder doing nothing to hide her form from his eyes, though it was not her beauty that made Elliot gaze at her, no that honor belonged to the look in her eyes as she drew nearer to him.

The anticipatory look of a predator who has cornered their meal at last. 

“Well then,” She spoke up, this new woman’s voice was the epitome of calm and elegant, and yet there was beneath that veneer of civility something else, something which made Elliot yearn to wrest control from his body and flee as the woman drew nearer to him even as the the grip on him-

‘OBEY.’

- yet firm remained.

For a moment he thought he saw one of the white clad woman’s eyes gain a marking, a white triangle amidst a spreading field of crimson, as her small smile grew ever so slightly into one that was both ever so gentle and yet ever so cruel as she looked at him.

The Director wordlessly lifted her cane up, allowing for Elliot to watch as she calmly tapped a hidden button on the top of it, allowing for a small compartment to slide open, a small black cylinder was removed from the compartment, with the woman opening it to reveal a syringe and a thin vial filled with an ochre colored fluid.

As the Director filled the syringe with the liquid, the newly arrived woman stepped forward, her long blond hair seeming caught in a spectral breeze as she ever do delicately reached into her own coat pocket to retrieve a golden pocket watch, the light glinting off of her glasses as her lips curled in vicious glee as Elliot trembled within the confines of his mind even as his body raged against his will. 

The curses and slurs fell from his lips as water until he felt the sharp sting of the syringe being stabbed into the side of his neck, emerald eyes watching with unspoken delight as his vision began to swim and blur, spectral hands reaching out to hold him fast as words once more became distorted as reality swam around him.

The final words he heard before oblivion swallowed him were-

“Shall we begin?”

Line Break

Shalom smiled as she saw the man before her, his body coated in sweat as tremors wracked his frame, his eyes bloodshot with pupils shrunken to not but a pinprick of darkness as his terror held him fast in an unyielding grip, his chest heaving as sobs and gibbering lunacies spilled forth from his lips in place of please and curses and slurs, the nonsensical babbling bringing forth no small amount of delight within the Hush. 

Idly, Shalom turned her head to inspect her compatriots, watching as Chameleon wordlessly tucked her pen back into her coat pocket alongside of her notebook, a series of notations regarding both the efficiency of their method of extracting information and an analysis of what could have been improved adorning it in the psychiatrists’ normal elegant penmanship. 

On the other side of the room was Langley, the Spider having taken a seat as she cleaned off her cane once more, wiping away small amount of blood and mucus that adorned it’s base after the man had made a rather tasteless remark concerning their Chief’s sexuality, the Spider and Rahu’s reply being something which had made Shalom exceptionally grateful for the absence of Schorl, though she wondered if the price she would be made to pay would be worth such an opportunity.

For a moment, her thoughts flickered back nearly a week ago, to when she had been leaving her room to visit her Chief as she rested in the Hospital Wing, to when she had heard the sound of footsteps approaching her, the form of her little Christina causing a small smile to cross her face as her detective walked in silence with her for several moments, Shalom feeling quite grateful for the silence as it allowed her to try and clear her mind and focus on-

  Christina began to hum, her lips did not move much as from her throat there came out notes of a delicate and gentle song, tender and full of compassion, a lullaby that would bid even the most stubborn into the sojourn of dreams…a song that Shalom had heard long ago…a song that had haunted her nightmares since she had heard it.

Her eyes had barely had a chance to widen before her Schorl fell to the ground, defenses failing in but an instant as onyx quartz cracked on impact with the ground as Christina continued to walk forward, even as Shalom stood rooted in place, the detective turning to look over her shoulder at her with a small smile before she beckoned her to follow her.

A low chuckle slipped past Christina’s lips as Shalom moved to stand beside her, the detective reaching out her hand to entangle it with Shalom's own, though the Hush reacted in a way she would never have done to her Detective, with her tearing her hand free as though the skin, a perfect mirror of her detective’s own, was a vice of scalding iron, a look of disgust crossing her face as the woman beside her paused to look at her with a hurt look on her face.

“S-Shalom? What’s wrong? D-did I do something w-wrong?” Christina said, her voice trembling with hurt as her lips curved downwards into a trembling frown, her eyes beginning to grow moist, a sight that should have made shalom feel the urge to reach out and embrace her detective, yet instead only made the feeling of visceral disgust she had felt upon her realization grow.

  “Stop. I told you not to wear her form around me.” The Hush growled out, her lips thinning as her eyes narrowed into a cutting glare at the woman who stood beside her, there was something she so rarely displayed in her words coating them, a sincere and honest emotion called forth from the very depths of her being, said emotion being a feeling of such deep seated disdain that it left her body trembling as it enveloped her, her rage only growing as the thing before her dropped it’s mask of faux hurt, lips curving upwards to release a laugh that normally would have made Shalom feel at ease, and yet now only made her feel dread.

“ Alright, alright my dear, ” The voice was wrong, it did not belong to the woman before her, low and sultry, velvet coated in saccharine sin that dripped and pooled around the young woman, each word perfectly designed to cause a haze to form in the minds of those who heard it, the unnatural allure that coated them enough to make anyone submit, though for Shalom it only made her disgust grow.

  “No more games.” In less than a blink her detective’s eyes had changed, an unnatural blue that seemed to burn with an internal light of unknown origin gazing into her own with such inscrutable intent that it left the Hush feeling the urge to take a step back and flee, though she was able to easily overcome the faint voice that bid her to run as she locked eyes with the…thing that was wearing the form of her detective.

  “Let’s talk, shall we Shalom?” Those eyes had burned her, scorched and seared and froze and tore at her very being even as they soothed and cradled and mended her, the words echoed in her head as though the thunderous shout of the Almighty itself,  something she often thought to be not far from the truth as the entity before her turned to look at her in full, a warm smile that left chills racing down Shalom’s spine gracing its face as it spoke up.

“ Let’s talk about how I can help you clean up this mess. ” Spoke the Devil to the Hush.

A sigh slipped past Shalom’s lips as she came out of her reverie, the Hush calling upon all of her experience to bury the unease she felt into the depths of her being, the dread at what the woman had done to blind the all-seeing eyes of Paradeisos swept aside in her desire to see the threat to her Chief removed, perhaps there would be a price to pay later on, but for now she would do all she could to insure that her Chief was safe, and should the price be high then she knew that Coquelic, Rahu, Christina and Langley would be able to see this mission through to the end.

  After taking a slight breath to steady herself, Shalom gently took out her tablet and began to make some amendments to her notes, sifting out old and new information automatically, even as her mind wandered to how all of this had begun, to when-

A warm hand entangled with her own, platinum eyes meeting hers as rose colored lips curved upwards into a smile that made her have to fight down the urge to pull out her camera and immortalize the scene in one of her many albums. 

Dimly she noted how she had been pulled to what she noted was some form of cafe, with the platinum eyed woman pulling out her chair and helping Shalom to sit at the table, the frailer white clad woman smiling up at her beloved Chief as she leaned down to place her lips to Shalom’s brow, the pair sharing a low chuckle as both of their eyes drifted shut, with them pausing where they were, Persephone basking in Shalom’s presence just as she did the same. 

Though all good things must one day come to an end, and in this case they came to an end with her Chief pulling away from her as she went to head into the cafe, wordlessly smiling at Shalom over her shoulder before she entered the building, the Hush taking the time to calm her own beating heart as she silently cast her gaze on a part of the crowd where she knew she felt ever so familiar eyes on her. 

Today was supposed to be her day with Persephone, but she knew it was too much to ask for her ever so loyal dog to not follow her, though she did admit it was amusing watching Rahu attempt to contend with the various men and women that were ogling her and attempting to flirt with her, Rosa, who had somehow been roped into this surveillance mission, seemed to be rapidly losing her battle with her own humor as Rahu once more whirled around to look at a trio of blushing and giggling young women.

A small smile crossed her face as Shalom shook her head for a moment at the scene before she heard her Chief call out to her, the Hush turning in her chair to see the Chief staggering towards her, seemingly battling with a pair of untied shoelaces and the inability to set down the pair of ice-cream cones she was holding, her battle with gravity seeming fit to nearly end with her triumph as she drew near to Shalom, a smile on her face-

*CRACK*

Something wet and warm splattered across Shalom’s face as she saw her Chief stagger, the frozen confectionery slipping from her hand as she swayed for but a moment before she fell to her knees and then her front, a pool of crimson beginning to-

“Shalom!”

She jolted to her senses, her eyes wide as she took a single low breath as she regained control of herself, her mask flickering back into place as though it had never faded in the first place as she tucked her tablet into her coat once more before she turned to look at the woman that had called out to her.

Rahu’s eyes raked over her face, picking apart every microscopic detail that they could as she tried to discern what it was that plagued her Mistress, with the answer seeming to come to her as she offered a low sigh of her own, barely audible behind her mask as she moved towards Shalom, the clicking of her heels on the concrete flooring being the only sound in the room, aside from the gibbering of the fool bound to the chair.

A brief sweep of the room revealing the absence of Langley and Chameleon, the Hush taking a moment to mentally berate herself for having allowed herself to lose herself in recollection, the gradual restoration of her emotions must have been taking more of a toll on her than she thought was what swept through her mind as she felt Rahu’s hands come to rest on her shoulders.

“The Spider and that Lizard have gone to get everything set up to go after the rest of this group, I told them you were busy thinking over everything and would join them in a few minutes.” Rahu said as she looked over her lady, a small smile from Shalom and a single step forward being all the prompt her ever loyal hound needed to give her a brief yet tight embrace, a much longer one could wait until later on when their current business was concluded.

“Thank you my dear, please go and let them know I’ll be joining them in a moment, I simply need to verify some information before I do so.” Shalom spoke up to her faithful guard, allowing for her hand to delicately cup her cheek for a moment before she let it fall to her side as she turned around, Rahu moving to fulfill her request as the the steady rapping of her heels gradually faded away until the door was at last shut and she was alone.

Or rather, she would have been alone were it not for the whimpering hype of flesh that sat before her, the sound of their pained cries would have made her feel something akin to pity were she not aware of the source of it, as such in the place of pity there came something approaching cruel delight in the form of a low hum that slipped past Shalom’s lips.

With a languid stride born of the desire to delight in the scene before her for but a moment longer, Shalom stood before the trembling form of Elliot, her lips finding their usual shape of an empty smile as she delicately reached out her hand and seized the trembling man by the chin, tilting his head to where he was once more forced to meet her gaze.

A part of her felt disgust at the way she felt such delight at the man’s cry of dread, knowing fully well how her Persephone would view such an action should she learn of it, but as she had done so many times before, and would do many times more, she hushed that part of her into silence.

After all, what Peresphone did not know would hurt no one’s heart.

‘What’s one more lie, to keep seeing that smile?’ Was the thought that allowed Shalom peace of mind, the knowledge that her actions, no matter how abhorrent, had brought about safety and stability for her beloved and those she called dear to her own heart, was more than enough to grant her a clear conscience as she did what she did best, what she was born to do.

Fix problems.

“To tell you the truth, I was trying to leave this part of me behind,” Shalom began as she lifted up her hand, ever so delicately cupping Elliot’s cheek in her hand, her tender grip did nothing to conceal the malice that swirled within her eyes, darkening them near to pitch as droplets of blood began to trail from where her nails pierced his flesh.

No words slipped past Elliot’s lips, merely another pained whimper that soon trailed off into a groan as Shalom’s other hand delicately reached up and wrapped itself around his throat, the Hush feeling nothing but cold satisfaction as she felt the man’s pulse thundering beneath her grip. 

“But people like you always find some way to drag this part of me back out…” She trailed off for a moment, allowing a weary sigh to slip past her lips before her mask returned to its natural position as the Mark flared into existence, the symbol reflecting in Elliot’s eyes as the man went rigid in her grip. 

Chameleon’s subliminal commands and manipulations would insure that the man before her remained unable to say a word about what had happened to him to anyone, and her own Mark would further reinforce the indoctrinations to the absolute of their control over the man, alongside of insuring that only the persona that had been crafted by Chameleon and herself would remain to see the light of day, while the true Elliot remained a prisoner in his own body.

Of course, she was not completely without some facsimile of mercy, his family would live to see a bright future, as she had promised him, though the mental scars would linger for many years but in time she was confident they would heal, and that none of them would go on to attempt the same foolishness their former patriarch had, plans already in motion to put them firmly under her gentle grip. 

Well, gentle so long as they obeyed that is. 

Likewise, she would insure that Elliot also got to live, perhaps he would even be able to see his family sometimes, and not the monsters that his other persona would claim them to be whenever it saw them, though his inability to tell them the truth of what had happened to him, along with the trauma of his actions and the revelation of his part in the attempt on Her Persephone’s life and the potential backlash they could face were it not for her mercy, would keep them from fully trusting him.

And now here she held the man, letting but one last flare of the Mark carve itself into his mind as she offered a final layer of subliminal messages and commands to insure that the man before her would never again no the beauty of a clear mind, or the warmth of the sun for that matter, ever again.

Those thoughts should have made her feel sick, to feel nauseous as she supposed was only right for someone committing so great a cruelty, yet instead it only brought her a vague sense of satisfaction at a job well done, and a sense of…well…she was not quite certain what to call the other feeling, some form of exasperation perhaps at the fact she had to do this, or perhaps it was a sense of justification?

She would have to sit down and sort out her emotions when she got the chance, perhaps she could even enlist the aid of Coquelic in this endeavor, the temptation of Flower Cakes and some new seeds for her little botanical garden should do the trick in buying her aid and silence, or perhaps she could approach that Flower that her Christina cannot help but wax poetic over.

But such matters could wait until later, as she at last allowed Elliot to slip from her grip and fall to the ground, the man curling into a ball as Shalom walked away, pausing but to offer one last glance over her shoulder at the shattered man behind her before she left him to the guards.

That the guards showed as little mercy to the man as Rahu had when she had found him, gave Shalom a sense of satisfaction, truly her Chief had chosen the most loyal of subordinates to stand at her side, the screening the Spider and her had put them through only ensuring these most loyal of souls were there to defend the one so dear to them.

Now she just had to hope they didn’t decide to introduce Elliot to any of the other Sinners before they got him to his cell, granted it would be no true loss to her if they did, but it would be quite inconvenient to have to clean up the ensuring mess and make certain that the Adjutant did not rat her out.

And speaking of the Adjutant, there she was, leaning against the wall of the hallway that lay between her and the room where her Rahu was waiting for her alongside of Chameleon and Langley, the aqua haired woman’s eyes meeting her own as she spoke up.

“I don’t know what you did to him, and for the sake of my peace of mind I’m not going to ask.” Nightingale spoke up, a sigh slipping from her lips as she reached into her pocket and pulled out a personal phone, her fingers ghosting over it for a moment before she spoke up again.

“Persephone’s vitals are improving, but she is still unconscious. Dr. Iron thinks she’ll need a few more days in that pod before she can be transferred to a normal bed, but she still can’t say when she could wake up.” Another sigh slipped past Nightingale’s lips as her fingers twitched once more, a flicker of moisture glazing her eyes before it was wiped away.

Shalom stood in silence as she processed the information, her mask slipping enough to allow for a small frown to cross her face as she kept her gaze fixed on the woman before her, allowing for the adjutant to take a moment to compose herself before she spoke.

“When was the last time you slept…Nightingale?” It was one of the very few times she allowed for herself to say the other woman’s name as opposed to her title, the other woman blinking at her in confusion for a moment before she offered another tired sign, her hand reaching up to rub at her eyes as she spoke up. 

“I…I don’t know…maybe 2 days, but I can’t say for certain.” Shalom tilted her head for a moment, a small sigh slipping past her lips before she walked towards her rival, allowing for her hand to rest itself on her shoulder, a small sense of amusement slipping into her heart as she saw Nightingale jolt slightly at her touch as she looked at her in confusion. 

“Go and get some rest,” Shalom spoke, a rare hint of compassion for the woman that had so vexed her upon her arrival at Minos and her attempts at gaining such a spot of favor with Persephone as the aqua haired woman held.

Nightingale said nothing for a moment as she looked at Shalom, before she let her head fall back against the wall, her hat wrinkling under the grip of her hand as it tightened for just a moment before it relaxed near to the point of letting it slip free as the Adjutant let her eyes drift shut for a few moments before she pushed herself off of the wall, allowing for Shalom to step back as she put her hat back on.

“I’ll be with Persephone, maybe I’ll be able to sleep if I can see that she’s alright.” The adjutant sighed as she began to walk away, a small sense of amusement flickering in her as she saw the way Shalom re-affixed her mask the moment the words slipped from her lips, a sure sign of her hiding her annoyance at the words.

“Give her my regards and tell Coquelic to get some sleep as well, some of her Flowers can fill in for her.” Shalom spoke up as she turned and began to walk away, though her steps were halted as she heard the Adjutant call out to her once more.

“Shalom.” Nightingale said, pausing as she looked over her shoulder at the woman behind her. “I know that you have some way of making sure that none of this will reach Persephone, that nothing you, Langley and Chameleon have done will reach her, hell maybe you even have a way of making the Sinners forget the things you’ve done, or at least keep quiet about them.”

Shalom said nothing, her silence being all the answer Nightingale needed before she turned her head and spoke up once more.

“You can trust Wynn, she’ll do everything she can to help keep Persephone safe, just don’t make her get her hands too dirty…she’s got too good of a heart for the kind of things you and the others have done.” Shalom nodded slightly at the words, already aware of the gentle heart the young woman possessed, something which reminded her of her Christina, and as such endeared her to the Hush in its own way.

“Shalom…Hush…” Nightingale continued, pausing for a moment as she took a deep breath before she continued-

“Give them Hell.”

The silence that enveloped the hall was all the answer she needed, the adjutant continuing her walk away as The Hush gazed over her shoulder at her, lips pulled into a thin frown as she made adjustments to her mental profile of the woman for just a moment before she resumed her own walk.

Perhaps there was hope for the Adjutant to become a truly worthy aid to the Chief afterall, but that was something she could ruminate over later on, for now she allowed for her mask to firmly fall into place and for the mindset of The Hush to overtake that of Shalom as she headed off to continue her work. 

Though, before she let that fledgling humanity, so long ago lost and so recently regained, slip away she allowed herself one last emotional thought, accompanied by a small chuckle as she opened the door to see Langley looking over her terminal as Chameleon cleaned her glasses and Rahu looked up at her. 

‘Ah, the things we do for love.’

Fin.

Author’s Note: Well, here we are everyone. We hope you enjoyed this merry mess of a chapter and that it lived up to the standard we have set for this fic. 

We apologize beforehand if it is not up to par with our previous chapters or if it has made any of you uncomfortable in reading it, admittedly this chapter took us quite a while to do as we had to try and get into the mindset of what someone like Shalom would do when angered, a task which is exceptionally difficult given not only her complex nature but also the state of her sense of humanity and morality, or rather her budding sense thereof. 

Part of us feels we failed to deliver simply by not being able to adequately reflect our own take on the dreaded Hush and how she has changed for both better and worse in the setting of this fic, that being her growing morality and humanity being mirrored by her growing attachment and fixation on Persephone and her willingness to do truly horrible things to protect her and the rest of those she loves. 

In such a verse we felt it easier to explore her anger, and the ramifications of earning it, from both the point of view of the recipient of said anger, and then end with the point of view of Shalom herself as she thinks over what she did and why she did it.

Please feel free to let us know what we did wrong and how we could improve in the comments below, as like we said this one was a tough one to write for the reasons listed above and several more, among them being this chapter taking a radically different approach than what we originally had in mind for it. 

With all of that said, stay safe and take care all.

[chernabogs]

Ames || 24 || Chernabogs is a twst blog where I post my writing and thoughts about the game !! Spoilers will be tagged #twst spoilers

RULES/BIO

Gen.

Ataraxia [Houswardens]

Sortiger [The Dark Mirror Origins]

Erlkonig [Reader-centric; MC has previous history with fae... it goes about as good as you'd expect. Long fic (est. 23 chapters)]

Empty Chairs [Maleficia Draconia; a look at her life to present]

Lapses [Dire Crowley; dimension-hopping theory]

Styx, Fae, & Malleus—Oh My! [Analysis of Styx, BV from war to present, and C7 as of April 2024]

DIASOMNIA

Gen.

Kismet [Lilia, Silver, & Malleus]

Deepwaters [Dia Quartet]

The Woodcutter and The Prince [Dia Quartet and Yuu; Fairytale-esque story]

Lilia

Winter Watch [Lilia & Baul, Sebeks Grandfather; character exploration]

Treppenwitz [Lilia gen.; multi-chapter from childhood to present]

Mead & Ignicolists [General x GN!Reader, not romantic, with Meleanor, Levan, and Maleficia involved]

Stasis [Death of a Queen]

Sunflowers [ xGN!Reader, war-era Lilia and present; a trip down memory lane]

Malleus

Dinner & Deception [Malleus & Queen Maleficia; pre-3rd year Malleus]

Of Obscure Sorrows [Malleus & GN!Prefect; platonic, gen.]

Meet the (grand)parents [Malleus x GN!Reader; meeting Maleficia for the first time]

Growing Season [ x GN!reader; Malleus thinks abt what to write to you while planting roses]

Monody [x GN!Reader, with Lilia & Maleficia involved too]

Caveats [x GN!Reader, can be taken romantically or not; Malleus warning you about interacting with Fae]

Fractal [OB!Malleus]

Saccharine [x GN!reader; from a bookstore to a coffee shop]

The Moon [4 times the moon witnessed Malleus' firsts]

Sin Eater [xGN!Reader, reader has passed on; a conversation between a prince, a starving tradition, and a corpse]

Hop To It [x GN!Reader, read more as platonic; post-overblot daytrip to the zoo]

Silver

Sebek

Resolution [x GN!Reader; Cleaning the cottage after a departure.]

Red River [Prince AU; Young Silver meets a washerwoman in the woods]

IGNIHYDE

Idia

Ortho

POMEFIORE

Vil

Halcyon [A moment of musing together; x reader]

Rook

Epel

SCARABIA

Jamil

Kalim

OCTAVINELLE

Jade

Rhodomel [Jade x GN!Reader, Gen.]

Floyd

Azul

SAVANACLAW

Jack

Ruggie

Leona

Lights Out [x GN!Reader, not really romantic, with Ruggie involved]

HEARTSLABYUL

Cater

Trey

Deuce

Ace

Riddle

[bomberqueen17]

car update

ok so i bought a subaru forester. now that i've bought one i see them everywhere. everyone is driving these cars.

i managed to find one that didn't have a power liftgate. which means it also, for some reason, doesn't have rear cross traffic alerts. but like. i never had those before so i don't super miss them. i just think it's wild that they bundled that with such an obnoxious feature.

It also has lane departure warnings and there's a super easy button you press to turn them off except it's not a physical toggle button so you press it and can't tell if it worked or not, and every time you turn the car off it re-sets to be on, so you don't realize the super distracting warning you hate is on until it goes off and super distracts you a lot and then in the midst of a tricky driving situation you're mashing the button to turn it off only you can't look so you're not sure if you missed it so you press it again and then it goes off later and you think you must've hit it twice so the next time you risk death to look at it and very carefully press it just once so it's definitely off this time, and then it goes off again later anyway, and anyway you give up on using the button and just grit your teeth because the thing is constantly beeping at you because it can't see the lane edges and freaks out. it is a useless feature, i have never once strayed from a lane and not known i was doing it, and if I were then a beep would not fix this. i want to find the wire that controls it and CUT IT but you of course cannot do that.

Anyway. As things go, not so bad really. I've been preoccupied with getting organizers and things and setting up the car interior to be nice, because I know from experience that one trip across the state where I'm having to half-unload and store things in there and shift everything out to make room for a thing and then load my life back into it, will mean that everything in the car is chaos and then I can't find the emergency equipment I know I have. I had a folding shovel in the Crosstrek, I bought it when the car was new, and was storing it in the rear driver's side footwell, and then when I needed it, well there was so much random bullshit in that car that I couldn't find it, and in fact I never found it, I sold the car without ever having found that folding shovel. So I bought a new one for this car, and I am sewing a seat-back organizer for the driver's seat, into which all of those things will go and then I will never remove them because I will not remove that seat back organizer because even if I have unexpected passengers or cargo surely a seat back organizer can be left in place.

This is my hope, anyway. We'll see. I'm finding myself without time to actually finish sewing the thing because shit keeps coming up. I thought it would take longer to get the car but no it just took up all of two days, and I have so much else to do around my house that I don't have time for anything else, so it's just as well I'd arranged to be off work this week too because I haven't had a moment to myself yet and probably won't at this rate but hopefully I can at least get my car set up.

I got the Most Boring Color; here's hoping I don't lose my nerve and do manage to find some artwork to have vinyl-wrapped onto the hood.

Suggestions welcome. Who could I commission, to do a fantasy-airbrush-style piece in wild colors? I want like a cool dragon or something, I really don't know beyond that. Probably the dealership will tell me not to because of the automatic lane-sensing cameras and things but like if they don't work maybe it will be time to cut the fucking wires so they stop beeping at me because they don't know where the lane markings are. IDK.

we'll see if that link fuckn worked or what

yeah for some reason the thing i'm most excited about is the moon roof, which is likely going to be the thing that breaks and makes this car terrible, but at the moment in the fading glory of autumn i just love it so much for some reason.

2 things remain: 1) I asked them if i could fit a full size spare in and they consulted and waffled and hemmed and hawed and finally said yes! you can! we'll just have to go over to the parts department and see about that! and then it was An Odyssey of multiple hours to get the car inspected (???) and registered and my insurance and whatever, and we didn't finish until nearly an hour after the dealership had closed, and I knew if I brought up the damn tire again somebody was going to cry, maybe me, so I didn't. but I have to call them... tomorrow now... and be like "so i was serious, also I want to discuss how to note this down in the maintenance logs so I get my rotations done five ways". and like, to be perfectly truly genuinely honest, it's not that I'm afraid I'll get stuck somewhere unable to drive, it is one hundred percent that I drive this car almost exclusively distances of 300 miles or more, and what WILL happen to me is that i get a flat as I get onto the highway or, better still, after I have gone maybe a hundred miles, and I can put the donut on but you cannot do highway driving for hundreds of miles on a donut, and so I will be stuck in fucking Utica or something and have to buy four new tires from literally wherever is open at the time and it will be a shitshow and it will be ten pm on a friday or something, and i absolutely will not do this.

So what will happen is, I will buy a spare fifth tire, I will at some point destroy one of my tires, and they'll say "ah you gotta buy four new ones" but i will say ha no i don't, and I will put the donut back in the trunk and store the spare rim somewhere until such time as I have yet another problem and then I will say, sadly, okay now I have to buy FIVE new tires, and will re-set. (This means that yes, then I will destroy a second tire on the Thruway near Nowhere at midnight on a Sunday, that's how it will go, but I will have put it off.)

2) I forget what 2 is. Oh yeah the fucking check from my fucking insurance. We floated the money to use as a down payment on this car, pulling it from some money we have earmarked but have not yet used for other things, and then the fucking check hasn't arrived yet, they claim to have mailed it on the sixth. So that's a headache. I just spent a thousand years combing through the website to see if there's a form where I can send a message to a person to ask them-- all the website says is "paid by check" but they don't mention mailing the check, so was there something else I was supposed to have done about it?

In the meantime, I got a loan from the dealership to finance part of the car purchase and while I am un-loan-to-able because my income is so wretchedly low, I was shocked to discover that somehow my credit score is insanely high, nearly perfect. Which is obviously meaningless because nobody will loan to me anyway. And it just highlights what a fucking stupid scam credit reports are. Because I have near-perfect credit, and am un-loan-to-able. Christ what a farce. (Dude co-signed, and the moment he appeared all communications were in his name, and the dealership texted me a request to leave them a review-- addressed to his name. On my phone! Which is the only contact info they have! Which is MY PHONE. It rankles! I'm going to leave them a good review but not until after I've calmed down about it. Come the fuck on.)

[waxnissan]

Beautiful Certified Pre-Owned 2020 Nissan Rogue Sport S for only $15,883! Gun Metallic with Charcoal Interior, 63,227 miles, CVT with Xtronic, FWD, and 2 L 4 Cylinder Engine! Features Bluetooth, Android Auto, Apple CarPlay, Keyless Entry, Wi-Fi Hotspot, Automatic High Beams, Emergency Brake Assist, Lane Departure Warning, Lane Keep Assist, Blind Spot Monitor, Rear View Camera, Satellite Radio, Speed Sensing Wipers and Cruise Control. Come into Waxahachie Nissan and check out this beautiful SUV today!