#ball thread 12

[boundlesschaos]

Niamh places a hand on her starfish charm, running a thumb along the surface. She considers the texture of this charm - was this something that was found deep below? Could the other charms come from the deep, too? What about the varieties? Were her starfish charms different from another's?

...ok, maybe the turtle charm wasn't from the ocean floor. At least, she doesn't recall the one she received looking as if it was plucked from the ocean. It's more likely heavily inspired by one. Made with objects one might find at the shoreline, at best.

"If there were more...." Niamh follows Minerva's eyes, staring out into the ocean. The setting sun is a sight to behold - and yet, Niamh finds herself closing her eyes shortly after witnessing it. She instead imagines the seafloor, covered with starfish of varying color and size. "There'd be one for everyone..." Wouldn't there?

She goes through her belongings. "But....you don't have to dive to find one..." Turning back to Minerva, she reveals a starfish charm, and gently places it into Minerva's free hand. "I've already braved the deep....and found these..."

By 'brave the deep', she means, 'came to a social gathering'. And by finding these, she means, 'the person at the entrance handed them to her.'

But with a mask like hers, one that looks like it's come from the darkest trenches of the deep blue sea, one could easily believe otherwise. That she really did dive below, and return with the goods that she hands to Minerva now.

[ RELAX ] - She finds her staring out to the sea. It's a beautiful evening, with the sunset decorating the cabana a soft orange - the perfect place to take a step back from the dancing and discussion that goes on about nearby. Niamh always had a habit of finding places like these. For her, being able to retreat from them at a given moment was...important, not just for her well being, but to have an easier time locating others. It's far more easier to spot a friend when there's no crowd to drown them out. "Do you wonder....what's down there..." She asks, finding a place to rest her arms as she overlooks the water as well. "There are a number of creatures you can find there, but..."

"But there could be other mysteries out there, too..."

Like treasure, maybe. But eyes tell that maybe that's not all she thinks about, too.

As she finally managed to leave the main avenue, Minerva found herself in a very relaxing place, all that walking actually did her some good: a very small and distinctive cabana was located not so farm from the main area of the ball, but that was where Minerva finally found some peace… and a friend too.

“Fishes, for sure” she paused, listening to her, while picking the glass of wine that rested on a small table beside her chair, “But like you said, I’m sure there are other mysterious objects too, down in the abyss” she sipped from her glass, her gaze was fixated on the horizon: it was evening by now, the sun was almost set, but the shore shone beautifully like some precious treasures rich of gold and gems.

“Maybe our charms come from there?” she shifted back her gaze, staring at the starfish décor that Niamh owned. “And maybe there are more”

[kxsagi]

this one doesn’t rlly involve a reader but i’d love to see blue lock boys react to what their irl fandom has to say abt them like from thirst comments to shit like “fraudtoshi rin” “plotsagi” “goatsagi” or idfk like “does ness hold it for kaiser when he pisses bc he can’t aim?” you can pick the characters, tho i feel like isagi, rin and kaiser are easier to do bc of how many comments there are about them

thank you for taking the time to read this random ass hc idea i love ur account🥀🥀💔💔

“𝐫𝐞𝐟, 𝐝𝐨 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 🥀”

a/n: i loved this one so much, the blue lock fandom truly is the best 😭😭😭

ft. isagi yoichi, itoshi rin, kaiser michael, ness alexis, mikage reo, nagi seishiro, shidou ryusei, itoshi sae

isagi yoichi

isagi's the type to search his name on twitter. daily. you think he's just analyzing plays but no, he's reading threads like: "isagi plays soccer like he's plotting a murder and we're just watching the body count rise." "plotsagi got that rizz. man manipulating the ball and my feelings." 

he scrolls in silence for a good 10 minutes. then asks himself, “do i really look like i monologue in my head before i pass?” 

but then he finds one that says “if isagi had a fanfic it’d be tagged ‘obsession’ ‘manipulative behavior’ ‘this is not a love story’” and he goes, “okay, but they’re not wrong.” 

thirst tweets? he reads one that says, “i would let isagi use me like he uses spatial awareness” and drops his phone (that was tweeted by kxsagi). 

refuses to look anyone in the eye for a full 12 minutes. 

itoshi rin

the absolute worst person to find his fandom discourse. 

at first it’s fine, he sees “itoshi rin owns me” and “he could spit on me and i’d bark” and thinks you’re all mentally unstable (he’s right). 

but then. then. he hits a comment that says: “fraudtoshi rin only shows up when sae breathes near him. man folds faster than my GPA.” 

he stops breathing. who said that. he’s scrolling like he’s trying to find the IP address. 

goes into a full-on rant like, “i literally scored more goals in the NEL than– you know what, never mind. i don’t care. i don’t. i don’t even read comments.” (he absolutely reads the comments.) 

the worst part is he sees people arguing over who the hotter itoshi is. someone said “sae is sexy. rin is just cold and tall.” this man is FUMING. “i am not just tall.” 

kaiser michael

he lives for this. googles himself once a week. you can catch him reading a post that says: “kaiser looks like he’d insult you in german during sex and then ghost you after stealing your charger.” 

he chuckles and goes, “hm. they get me.” 

there’s another tweet: “kaiser plays football like the main villain in a sports anime and i’d still let him ruin my life.” 

he saves it. makes it his wallpaper. “they get it.” 

but then he sees one that says: “does ness hold it for kaiser when he pisses because he can’t aim?” 

that man screeches. pure betrayal. “WHAT? why would they say that? why would they say i can’t AIM? i am the best striker in blue lock! in the world!” 

he turns to ness like, “tell them it’s not true. say it.” 

ness alexis

he sees the comment about him holding it for kaiser and his face goes red. “i don’t do that!! i– i– kaiser can aim just fine!! i mean– i’ve never– WHY IS THAT A QUESTION!?” 

his favorite tweet is actually: “ness is like a clingy poodle with abandonment issues and i want to pat his head and tell him it’s okay.” 

he reads it twice and mutters, “i don’t have issues...” 

but then sees someone say “ness is just the manager who got promoted to player because kaiser needed a fanboy on-field” and he looks heartbroken for the entire week. 

mikage reo

he’s lowkey offended that people don’t thirst over him enough. 

“why does everyone simp for nagi? i have the body of a greek god and a bank account that would fund a small nation. where’s my edit with lana del rey playing in the back?” 

he finds a comment that says: “reo has rich twink energy and i respect that.” 

he reads it out loud and then mutters, “... what does that mean.” 

nagi seishiro

only finds out about the fandom when reo shows him. doesn’t care until he sees a tweet that says: “nagi looks like he’d sleep through a nuclear war, but wake up if you open a bag of chips.” 

he stares blankly and goes, “they’re right though.” 

reo shows him another that says “nagi looks like he gives the worst hugs. like hugging a fridge.” 

“do i?” he asks, genuinely confused. “maybe it’s just all the muscle i’ve packed on.” 

shidou ryusei

he’s already in the comments. like. not just reading them. replying. 

thirst tweets? he's in there with a “bet 😘” and a selfie of his abs. 

reads a tweet that says: “shidou plays like a demon possessed his body mid-match and now it’s just him vs god.” 

he likes it. reposts it with “and i’m winning.” 

but then he sees someone tweet: “if shidou had a tumblr, it would be just gifs of himself and ‘do u guys think teeth are sexy’ polls.” 

he grins, full teeth. “yo wait. that’s genius.” 

there’s another one that says “shidou would call you ‘mommy’ during sex just to see your reaction” and he cackles. 

“nah, i already have. she cried. it was awesome.” 

but the real chaos? he finds a post that reads: “shidou is what happens when red bull sponsors a felony.” 

he screenshots it. makes it his lock screen. 

itoshi sae

did not ask to see the fandom discourse. but a teammate showed him anyway. huge mistake. he stares blankly at the phone like: “what the hell is a ‘dilf agenda’ and why am i on it?” 

he sees another one that says: “sae looks like he’d ruin your life and then act like you were the problem.” 

he hums. “that’s just facts.” 

another says: “sae is hot, but i just know he’d leave you on read for 3-5 business days with no explanation and still expect you to be in love with him.” 

he glances over, shrugs. but then. then. he reads: “sae is just rin with prettier hair and daddy issues.” 

his entire soul leaves his body. “excuse me?” 

turns to his teammate like, “do i… do i look like i have daddy issues?” his teammate blinks. he’s already reevaluating his childhood in real time. 

worst of all, he finds a photo of himself mid-match with the caption: “sae itoshi could run me over with his lamborghini and i’d say thank you.” 

and now he won’t shut up. “you think i should get a lambo? it’d match my aura.” 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

[pitlanepeach]

Radio Silence | Chapter Eight

Lando Norris x Amelia Brown (OFC)

Series Masterlist

Summary — Order is everything. Her habits aren't quirks, they're survival techniques. And only three people in the world have permission to touch her: Mom, Dad, Fernando.

Then Lando Norris happens.

One moment. One line crossed. No going back.

Warnings — Autistic!OFC, strong language, fluff (iktr), Jos Verstappen, mentions of being touch starved.

Notes — Lando Norris (Rizzless, full of yearning & very dumb).

Want to be added to the taglist? Let me know! - Peach x

2020

The house was too quiet.

Not just empty, but hollow. 

Amelia sat curled up on the carpet of the living room, knees tucked to her chest, her golf ball rolling in one hand; forward, back, forward, back. The familiar weight and texture helped, but only a little. Her thoughts were louder than usual. Less cooperative.

She had the lights dimmed. She always did when her parents weren’t home. No overheads. Just the little amber glow of the corner lamp, warm enough not to audibly hum.

It was nearing 1 a.m. but she hadn’t moved in hours. Alex’s latest simulation results were still open on her laptop, long since idle. A blanket had fallen half off the couch behind her. Her phone sat face-down on the rug, and every so often she’d stare at it. 

Her brain kept doing it… that thing where it picked up one moment from months ago and turned it over and over like a stone with a crack in it. Lando smiling at someone else across the paddock the day after he stopped answering her texts. Lando walking past her in the paddock, head down, pretending not to see her.

She knew, rationally, that not everything was her fault. That sometimes people made decisions for reasons they couldn’t articulate, and sometimes those reasons had nothing to do with her. She knew that. But her brain didn’t care about logic at 1 a.m.

And so she sat there, golf ball in hand, spiralling quietly. 

Then, without planning to, she reached for her phone. Flipped it over. Opened their last thread, months cold, and started to frantically type. 

—

iMessage — 12:35am

Amelia If I asked you to come over right now, would you?

She stared at the message. Thumb hovering. No. That wasn’t right. It didn’t explain. He wouldn’t understand.

She deleted it. Started over.

Amelia: I’m overthinking again. I’m trying to blame myself for things I logically know aren’t my fault. But I’m stuck in it. And I don’t want to be alone. I know it’s late. I’m sorry. But if you’re awake, and if you still care, I’d like you to come over. Please.

She paused. Shook her head. Deleted it all.

She didn’t even know if he was in the country. That would be a better place to start.

Amelia: Are you in Woking?

Sent.

She dropped the phone onto the carpet and curled tighter around herself, her golf ball now tucked under her chin. She didn’t expect a reply.

But two minutes later, the screen lit up.

Lando Norris: Yes…?

Her fingers shook, but she didn’t let herself hesitate this time.

Amelia: I’m home alone. Come over. I am still angry at you, but I’m ready to talk to you now.

A beat. 

Lando Norris: Ok im omw like right now

She exhaled. Just once.

And waited.

— 

By the time Lando arrived, twenty-five minutes later, Amelia had turned off every light in the downstairs of the house. The golf ball was on the kitchen counter. Her hoodie sleeves were pulled over her hands. She didn’t meet him at the door; just unlocked it and left it slightly open before retreating to the living room.

She heard it click shut behind him, heard the rustle of his shoes coming off, his jacket too, and then his tentative footsteps.

“Hey,” he said from the hallway.

“Hello,” she replied, without looking up.

He hovered. “Do you want to shout at me?”

“No.” She frowned. She hated shouting, didn’t do it unless she couldn’t control it. 

Lando let out a soft, nervous laugh and made his way into the living room. She was curled on the far end of the sofa, wrapped in a blanket, legs tucked tight. Her face was mostly shadowed except for the flicker of the lamp light.

He stood there, just looking at her, like he couldn’t believe that he was really stood there and the whole thing wasn’t some vivid dream. “You meant it? That you’re ready to talk?”

“I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t mean it,” she said flatly. 

“Right. Yeah, obviously,” he murmured, sinking into the opposite end of the couch, careful not to get too close. “Sorry. I just… when you texted me, I didn’t even think. I just got in the car.”

She looked at him then. Really looked.

“Did you speed?” she asked, sharply.

Lando blinked at her, a bit startled. “No!”

“Because if you crashed on the way over here, I’d feel responsible,” she said plainly. “And I don’t want to feel responsible for you right now.”

He winced. “Okay. That’s… yeah. Okay.”

Silence fell between them. Amelia ran her thumb across the edge of the blanket, grounding herself with the texture.

“Why didn’t you talk to me?” she asked, abruptly, because he obviously didn’t realise that she’d been waiting for him to fill the silence. “Why didn’t you just say, ‘I don’t want to be your friend anymore’? Why did you ghost me?”

Lando let his head drop back against the couch. “I know. I was just… a proper idiot,” he muttered. “But I didn’t know what to say.”

She narrowed her eyes. “What does that even mean? You’re here, aren’t you? So you need to say something, or maybe you should just leave.”

He let out a deep breath, scrubbing a hand through his hair, looking at her, his eyes soft and hazy. “It means I’m twenty and stupid and scared and people were telling me what to do and I listened to them. And then I missed you so much it made me sick, but by then I didn’t know how to fix it.”

She frowned at him. “Who was telling you what to do? Our dads?”

He nodded slowly. “And Max—” She sucked in a sharp breath, and he immediately clarified. “Fewtrell. Not Verstappen.” Her jaw unclenched, but only slightly, the tension in her shoulders still high and wired. “Your Max told me I was an idiot,” Lando went on, voice softer now. “My Max just… didn’t get it. I don’t think he meant any harm, he just… he thought this was all just a bit of fun, y’know? A risk.” He looked at her then, eyes searching. “But it wasn’t. Not to me. And not to you either. I know that now.”

“That’s so stupid.” She said, her voice quiet, staring at him with… something burning in her chest that she didn’t recognise. “I- I was never a risk. I would’ve been happy just to be your friend.” She told him, then shrugged. ”You were just stupid and didn’t talk to me… are you planning on still being stupid?” She asked. 

He grinned weakly, shuffling closer to her end of the sofa. “Not that stupid. Just, like… medium stupid now. My normal level.”

She didn’t smile, but the corner of her mouth twitched. A little. Maybe.

“I need to know what you want,” she told him, voice low, a little uncertain. “I need clarity. Definitions. Parameters.”

“Okay,” Lando said instantly, sitting up a little straighter. “I want to be your friend again. But I also want to be the person you come to first when you need something. And… I want to take you on dates. And I want to be allowed to be jealous when I see you with other guys.”

Amelia blinked at him. Frowned. “That’s not very logical.”

“Nope,” he said, with a crooked smile. “But it’s honest.”

She went quiet, considering. Calculating. “You want exclusivity.”

He nodded. “Yeah. I mean, I want you.”

She tilted her head slightly, watching him like she was trying to determine if he was being serious. “That’s a lot to ask.”

“I know,” he said, quieter now. The grin softened into something more sincere, if a little self-deprecating. “But I’ll prove I’ve learned my lesson, yeah? I won’t let anyone else’s opinion get in my head again. Just… we can let this be ours. The only people that matter in this are me and you.”

Her fingers curled tighter around the edge of the blanket in her lap. Her voice was soft, almost hesitant. “That sounds… nice.”

Lando’s eyes softened. “I can make it nice for you. I promise.”

She looked at him for a long time, visibly sorting through every word, every possibility.

Then, finally, she swallowed and said, “I want you to hug me.”

Lando looked stunned, eyes going big. “What— I— Right now?”

“Yes.” She nodded. 

He didn’t hesitate. He shifted over, cautiously, as if afraid she might change her mind. He wrapped his arms around her, gently at first, but she tensed.

“No,” she said. “Tighter.”

He pulled her closer, arms firm around her now, cheek pressing into her hair. She didn’t resist. In fact, she melted into him with a shudder of… relief? That’s what it felt like. 

Her voice was muffled when she spoke again. “I still don’t forgive you.”

“I know,” he murmured, and then kissed the top of her head, just because he could. “I’ll keep being sorry for as long as it takes.”

—

Amelia sat across from Adrian, a half-finished plate of risotto in front of her, her attention fixed on the data tablet between them.

“I’m still not convinced about the changes to the front wing,” she mumbled, tapping twice on the screen to enlarge the image. “We’re losing more downforce at medium-speed corners than we’re gaining on the straights.”

Adrian leaned back, chewing thoughtfully. “Eh. I accounted for that. It’s a tradeoff, but one I’m willing to make on circuits like Baku. The trick will be making it modular enough to swap depending on track characteristics.”

“Or,” she said, narrowing her eyes, “we build in a collapsible adjustment into the lower element. Something passive. Nothing movable.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You want to trick the air?”

She shrugged. “I want to learn how to communicate with it.”

Adrian chuckled, a quiet, almost imperceptible sound. “You are dangerous when you’re well-fed, Miss Brown.”

“And you’re indulgent with your compliments when I’m right about something,” she shot back, just as quietly.

They were silent for a while after that. Amelia swiped between sketches on her iPad, adjusting airflow lines and drag coefficients with brisk finger movements. Adrian seemed to procure a pen out of nowhere in order to scribble onto a napkin.

Then came the sound of someone clearing their throat.

Amelia looked up and immediately went stiff. “Dad.” She said. 

Zak Brown stood at the edge of the table, hands in his pockets, his usual confidence dampened into something smaller, more hesitant. “Sorry to interrupt. Adrian.”

Adrian nodded politely. “Zak.”

“I was hoping,” Zak said, directing the next part at his daughter, “to talk. Just for a minute.”

Amelia didn’t answer immediately. She just stared at him, expression unreadable. She looked more like her mother in that moment; sharp, poised, utterly unmoved.

Adrian glanced at her, then stood, placing his napkin beside his plate. “I’ll go check on the, ah, the thing. Don’t let him steal my dessert, Amelia.” 

She gave him a tight nod. “I won’t.”

Zak slid into the vacated seat. He looked so out of place in the sleek Red Bull setup.

“You look good,” he offered, gently.

“That’s irrelevant,” Amelia said flatly. She folded her hands in her lap, her expression unmoved. “What do you want?”

Zak blinked. “I just wanted to talk. No team hats. No politics. Just me. Your dad.”

Her jaw flexed.

Outside, the drone of engines buzzed faintly. A plane banked overhead. The world kept spinning.

“I have nothing to say to you,” she said, each word cut with the precision of a scalpel. “You were mad at me for joining Red Bull. Now I’m mad at you for thinking that you had any right to be mad at me for doing it.”

He opened his mouth. Closed it again.

“If you didn’t believe in me, you could’ve just said so,” she continued. “But instead you decided to hide how valuable I was — you even managed to hide it from me.”

Zak looked stricken, like he hadn’t expected the blunt edge of her precision to turn on him. “It wasn’t like that,” he said softly. “I didn’t want to hold you back. I didn’t.”

“You didn’t hold me back,” she corrected. “You just… made me feel like less than I am.” She pushed her plate slightly away and picked up her tablet again. “If you want to speak to me next time, send an email. Don’t come to my workplace uninvited.”

Zak hesitated. His lips parted, some apology or explanation balancing on the edge of his tongue, but it was too late. She was already reading again, eyes back on CFD simulations, focus recalibrated.

Eventually, he nodded and stood. Quietly. Almost like he knew he was walking away from something that might never be the same again. 

Adrian returned a moment later, setting a fresh cup of coffee down in front of her.

“Thanks,” Amelia murmured, not looking up.

He sat down again, resuming his notes. 

They fell back into silence.

Only this time, it was heavier. And Amelia, despite her fixed stare on the airflow diagrams, felt all out of sorts. 

— 

Max had finished the Styrian Grand Prix on the podium, but it wasn’t enough. Not to him. Not with how close the win had been… close, but not close enough.

She’d sat with him after the race in his driver’s room, quiet while he paced, letting him unload every frustration, every tenth he felt he’d lost. She wrote it all down, every word, every critique, in the little black notebook she kept just for days like this.

Tomorrow, she’d take it to Adrian. They’d sit down, just the two of them, and dissect the upcoming update package slated for three races from now. She already had ideas, ways to tweak the beam wing, something about airflow around the bargeboards that had been bothering her all weekend.

But for now…

The movie played quietly in the background, some old comedy Lando had picked from Netflix, but Amelia barely registered the dialogue. Her legs were tucked beneath her, her back propped against the headboard, while Lando sprawled out on his stomach at the foot of the bed, idly flicking a piece of popcorn into the air and catching it in his mouth.

He missed half of them. She didn't say anything. She liked the way he grinned every time he caught one, proud of himself even for something so silly.

Amelia’s hands were clenched into fists beneath the throw blanket. Not from anger, but from restraint.

She wanted to touch him.

It was driving her slowly, irreversibly mad; how close he was. The slope of his shoulder. The way his hair flopped messily across his forehead. The familiar line of his jaw. Her brain kept imagining her hands pressing there, her cheek resting between his shoulder blades, her arms slipping around his waist.

She hadn’t touched anyone in days. She hadn’t touched him since Woking.

And her skin itched with it. That deep, crawling, ache-for-pressure kind of need that always built when she tried to push it down.

“I miss you being in my garage,” Lando said suddenly, breaking the silence.

Her eyes flicked to him. “You still see me every day in the paddock.”

“Yeah, but it’s not the same.” He shifted onto his side, propping himself up on one elbow so he could look at her. “It’s weird not having you with my engineers. They miss you too, you know. The McLaren team. They still talk about you all the time. Especially Chris.”

Amelia stared at him. “Chris used to say all the time that I was intimidating.”

“Yeah,” Lando grinned. “He still says that. But now it’s in a weirdly affectionate way. Not sure I like it.” He pulled a face.

Amelia allowed herself a small smile, eyes flicking over him with quiet curiosity. Ah. There it was; that little edge in his voice. The subtle shift in his posture.

So he really was serious. That jealousy he’d mentioned before wasn’t a passing joke. It was real, simmering just beneath the surface, slipping out in moments like this.

He was a very jealous man.

And apparently, not very good at hiding it.

Thinking about his jealousy had been a distraction, brief, fleeting, but now even that was tangled up in it. The way he got all possessive and fidgety when she mentioned other people, the way his jaw tensed when she told him about her relationships within the Red Bull team, the way he looked at her like she was already his, and no one else had a chance.

It should’ve annoyed her. It did annoy her. A little. But mostly… it just made her feel warmer. More aware of him. Of how close he was, right there beside her on the hotel bed, limbs relaxed, hoodie sleeves pushed up, expensive watch catching the soft light from the TV.

She clenched her toes. Pressed her knees together. Tried to focus on the movie. On the background music, on the plot, on literally anything else.

It didn’t work.

“You’re really quiet tonight,” Lando told her, eyebrows raised slightly. “What’s going on in that smarty-pants brain of yours?”

Amelia hesitated. Thought about brushing it off. About lying. But that wasn’t how they’d agreed to do this. They were supposed to always be honest with each other.

“I want to touch you,” she said plainly.

Lando froze. Then blinked. “Uh. Okay.”

She winced slightly, pulling the blanket higher. “Not like that. Not; well. I mean. Not necessarily. I just—” she exhaled sharply. “My brain wants pressure. From you. And I can’t focus on anything else.”

His face shifted; concern, understanding, something tender blooming behind his eyes.

“You could’ve just said something,” he murmured, sitting up. “You know you don’t have to ask twice with me.”

Her voice was small. “I don’t want to cross a line.”

He reached out then, slow, letting her see his hand coming before it landed lightly on her blanket-covered shin. “Hey. You tell me what you need. You’re the boss here.”

She stared at his hand for a moment. “Can I lie on you?”

He blinked. “Like…on me?”

“Yes.” She nodded. 

“…Okay, yeah. Yeah. That’s, uh, that’s cool.”

Within seconds, she was curling into him. Her cheek pressed to his chest, her arms wound tight around his waist, and he stilled completely; like she was something precious and breakable.

“More,” she mumbled into his chest. He smelled good, like mens body wash and Dove bar soap. “Tighter.”

He obeyed instantly, arms coming around her, pulling her flush against him. She melted. Her muscles unspooled. Her fingers unclenched.

Lando dipped his head to press his cheek against her hair. “Is this good?”

She nodded, face buried in the soft fabric. “Yes.”

—

WhatsApp Groupchat — 2020 F1 Grid

George R. Can someone tell Amelia she left her iPad again please 😭

Charles L. She left it on a tyre stack next to the Ferrari garage earlier today

Carlos S. She treats technology like it’s disposable

Alex A. Not me tempted to open it and check her car design sketches...

Max V. Don’t. I’ll come get it, George.

Lando N. I’ll get it.

Valtteri B. 👀👀👀

Pierre G. Hold up what

George R. That was awkwardly timed

Charles L. Lando I thought you had ghosted her?

Alex A. He def ghosted her. That was a thing.

Max V. He did.

Daniel R. Uh oh. Maxie is angry 😬

Lando N. Okay yeah I did, but I apologised. We’re cool now, okay? So leave it out.

Carlos S. Grid never forgets

Sebastian V. Lando, she has forgiven you? Are you… friends now?

Lewis H. Is Max okay with this? Because I’m not okay with this.

Max V. No. I am not okay with it. DAT IS LETTERLIJK MIJN ZUS. ALS HIJ HAAR WEER PIJN DOET, VERMOORD IK HEM. (That is literally my sister. If he hurts her again, I will kill him.)

George R. Hands up if you just Google Translated that

Charles L. LORE DROP

Kimi R. Ah Max, is she another of Jos’ love children?

Alex A. They’re not actually related guys

Daniel R. No, just emotionally adopted Verstappen-style. Honestly, that’s more terrifying

Lando N. I SAID I’M BEING SERIOUS ABOUT HER NOW, OKAY? I’M NOT STUPID ANYMORE. I MEAN IT.

Lewis H. You’re twenty.

George R. Statistically, you’re probably still stupid

Daniel R. I’m not taking sides, but also… Max’s unhinged brother energy is kind of beautiful

Charles L. Agreed. Threatening murder in Dutch has a certain poetry

George R. So who is coming to get the iPad?

Max V. Me. She needs it for her work. At Red Bull. Where she belongs.

Lando N. Fucking hell, mate I get it Don’t need to rub it in.

— 

The hum of the Red Bull garage wrapped around Amelia. The RB16 sat gleaming under the fluorescent lights, half a dozen mechanics orbiting around it. She stood off to the side, tablet in hand, stylus between her teeth, watching the numbers stream in from Max’s first systems run.

She was mid-sentence on a note to Adrian, something about rear tire temps in sector three, when a quiet, unmistakably firm voice cut through her concentration.

“Amelia.”

She turned. Jos Verstappen.

She hadn’t seen him up close since the day she signed with Red Bull. Now, in the garage, he looked the same; flat expression, arms loosely folded, presence heavy despite his silence. 

“Mister Verstappen,” she said, adjusting her posture. “Hello.”

His eyes swept over the tablet in her hand, then to the car. “You’ve been busy.”

“I’m always busy,” Amelia agreed. “That’s the job.”

“I heard the changes to the under-tray and rear brake ducts came from you,” he said. “They’re working very well. Max is impressed.”

She squinted. “Of course they’re working. I ran the data half a dozen ways before I even suggested the update. I don’t like to waste people’s time on bad ideas.”

His mouth twitched. “You’re very confident.”

“No,” she said, finally glancing up from her tablet to look at him. “I’m correct. That’s different.”

Jos let out a low, quiet huff of amusement. “I like people who say what they think.”

She tilted her head. “I don’t see the point in saying anything else. It’s inefficient.”

That made something flicker in his expression; curiosity, maybe. Or calculation.

“Max appreciates honesty,” he added, watching her closely.

“I’m not honest for his sake.”

He paused. Then looked back to the car. “You’ve helped improve it. That’s obvious. Which is why I’ll ask this directly.”

She glanced up again, wary now. “Okay.”

“I want you focused entirely on Max,” Jos said. “Not just as a Red Bull employee. As part of his team. Private. Full-time. I’m prepared to make it official. I’ll buy out your Red Bull contract if I need to.”

Amelia blinked once. “No.”

He didn’t flinch. “That’s a quick answer.”

“Because I’ve thought about this before,” she said simply. “And my answer’s the same. I’m not leaving Adrian.”

“You could build your own legacy with Max.”

“I can still do that while working for Red Bull,” she replied. “Adrian lets me experiment. He listens when I speak. And I want to learn everything he knows before I try leading anything on my own.”

Jos’s jaw ticked. “And you think that outweighs the opportunity I have put in front of you?”

“I think long-term. Adrian Newey is the greatest car designer alive. Every day I work with him is an honour. And if Max wants a championship, he’ll get it. I’ll be part of that. But I will do it with Adrian or I will not do it at all.”

“You're ambitious,” he muttered, after a heavy pause. “But not greedy. That’s rare.”

She didn’t answer. Just turned back to her tablet, fingers swiping across the screen.

Jos studied her. His gaze was heavy, pressing. Then, finally, he said, “If you were my dochter, I wouldn’t let your talent go to waste. I’d protect it. Nurture it. Push you toward bigger and better.”

Amelia looked up again, cool and unreadable. “I would not be able to work with Max if I was your daughter. That would be a conflict of interest.” 

That finally made him laugh. Quiet and sharp and vaguely dangerous. A glimmer of respect in the way his eyes narrowed. “I’ll respect your decision,” he said at last. “But I’ll ask again.”

“I’ll probably still say no.” She shrugged.

Jos gave a single nod. Then turned and walked away without another word, disappearing into the back of the garage. 

Amelia scrunched up her nose, muttered something under her breath, and went back to her data like nothing had happened.

She didn’t notice the wide-eyed engineers still watching her — silent, stunned, impressed. 

— 

Ted Kravitz’s Qualifying Notebook – Hungarian Grand Prix 2020

"Alright, let’s get into it. We’re here at the Hungarian Grand Prix, and there’s something on everyone's minds right now. Well, a couple of things, but one of them in particular is the ever-growing interest in Amelia Brown."

He flicks through his notes briefly. 

"Now, Amelia is the new kid on the block for Red Bull. Already making waves after just a few races. We’ve seen some huge improvements to the car's performance, especially with that under-tray and rear brake duct work she introduced. The engineers and Max, they’re all praising her contributions. But let’s be clear though, this isn’t just about her technical brilliance. It’s about her presence on the grid."

Cut to some shots of Amelia in the garage, clipboard in hand, as she discusses the car’s setup with Adrian Newey, looking fully unaware of the chaos surrounding her.

"Now, there’s something interesting happening here. When she first joined Red Bull, everyone was wondering how this would affect the dynamics, and we’ve certainly seen some whispers. Most notably, there’s been talk of Jos Verstappen eyeing Amelia pretty closely. I mean, this guy is never shy with his opinions, and his recent conversation with Amelia raised some eyebrows."

Cut to a clip of Jos and Amelia talking in the garage, with Jos gesturing animatedly and Amelia, typically blunt, responding with equal intensity.

Ted shifts, looking across the paddock, scanning the crowd of drivers and engineers.

“And let’s not forget that there’s still some tension between Amelia and McLaren, her father’s team. No doubt about it. There’s been a fair amount of speculation about her change in team and what exactly went down, but no one’s talking specifics. We know McLaren won’t love losing someone of her calibre to Red Bull, but Amelia's made it clear that it’s all about the opportunity to work with Adrian, not about the politics. Still, you can feel the strain."

Cut back to Ted, his face becoming more animated as he looks towards something happening across the paddock.

"But here’s the kicker, folks. As I’m talking about this tension, I see something that maybe changes the narrative just a little bit."

The camera follows Ted’s eyes as they zoom in on Amelia and Lando, who are sitting casually on a wall near the McLaren and Red Bull hospitality areas. Lando’s laughing at something, and Amelia, her arms crossed, is smiling; not just her usual polite smile, but a real one. 

"Well, well, well... Looks like there may not be as much tension between Amelia and McLaren, or between her and Lando, as we thought, eh? That, my friends, is a sight we didn't expect to see so soon. Seems like the ghosts of the past are being put to bed, at least for now."

He grins, looking almost conspiratorial with the camera.

"And that’s all we’ve got for now, folks. The grid’s about to get busy with pre-race preparations, but keep an eye on Amelia. She’s making her mark, and I think we’ll be seeing a lot more of her, both in the garage and in the paddock. Could be a very exciting future ahead for her in this sport and beyond.”

NEXT CHAPTER

[womanofwords]

Silver Swan (Part 1)

Neglected!fem!reader x yandere!Batfam

Headless chickens. Bruce Wayne and his children were running around like headless chickens over the gala. So annoying.

"Steph, you'd better not have taken my good corsage!" Barbara yelled. You sighed and retreated to your workspace. Just a little more of this racket and you could work on your new cloak in peace. It was a wonderful silvery colour, and all it needed was the interior fabric for comfort and warmth and the matching exterior feathers for aesthetic. You felt so fun and so mysterious just looking at it.

What should the inner lining be, though? Velvet? Cotton? Silk? Absent-mindedly, you grabbed some silver thread and wandered around with it, weighing up your options.

"Watch where you're going, idiot!" Damian scolded, knocking into you. It hurt, but you couldn't tell whether or not it was on purpose or not. "Why are you even here? You aren't preparing for anything."

He was right; you weren't. No gala invitations came in the mail for you, after all. You were always left out, for some reason.

"I wanted to stretch my legs," you said, cheerily.

"Well, you'll have to wait until we're gone. You won't get in the way like that, and we see you less." His lip curled up into a smirk.

"OK. I'll just wait until you're all gone. I'll go back to my room until then." You rushed back to your bedroom, eyes burning with tears.

Why was it never you?

You'd never been invited to a charity dinner once since joining the Wayne family. Was it because of your parentage? You had been the result of a hookup between your mother, a high-end tailor, and the prince of Gotham, Bruce Wayne himself. Maybe your origin was considered embarrassing for Gotham high society. You were nothing like Damian, who boasted of Al Ghul and Wayne ancestry, or Tim Drake, teenage CEO. You were ordinary.

And for a Wayne, ordinary was embarrassing.

You listened to Alfred drive off with them the same way you always did. Alfred would be back soon, but the rest of the family would be gone until morning.

All the better to work on your cloak.

You got out your sewing machine and worked away, opting to go with the velvet. Your dress would be a matching silver colour, and down to the ankles. Shoes would have to have thick soles so that the hems of your cloak and dress wouldn't touch the floor.

"There have to be some books about fashion around here," you mutter, as you pull books out of the shelves by the spine, dislodging them and putting them back when you had determined that this tome would be of no use to you. As you went for a book about a timeline of high fashion, sheafs of paper fell out and landed next to your feet.

You debated whether or not to look at them. Nobody was in the house, so nobody would know that you had done it so long as you put them back where you had found them. Curiously, you picked one up at random and read it.

It had your name on it. You picked up another. That one had your name on it, too. They all did, actually. What really differed were the events highlighted.

Winter Gala. Charity Ball. Annual Dinner.

Your innards twisted. You really had been invited to these events, same as everyone else. Someone in the house had repeatedly and systematically hidden your letter of invitation so you wouldn't accompany them. It was your family's doing that had left you weeping bitter tears in a home that hated you.

Those heartless bitches would pay.

Part 1 <- You are here

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Part 9

Part 10

Part 11

Part 12

Part 13

Part 14

Taglist: @tinybrie

[pome-seed]

The Soldier's Keeper ★ 34

Pairing: Winter Soldier!Bucky x Doctor!Reader

Summary: They found Bucky, and now you were on your way to Berlin. But just like your worst fears, you realize you might not get to him in time. Before someone else does.

Word Count: 4.7k

Warnings: Flashback to Winter Soldier days. Mention of torture. Violence.

Song Rec: Kolniour by Jonsi (play when you see **)

Authors Note: Thank you guys for always messaging me and commenting. I love the interactions. The flashbacks are per @justachillgirllui request. Thank you for that! I'll probably write more from your req soon. ALSO, if you want to be apart of the taglist, let me know :)

Series Masterlist Next Chapter

“What’s he like?” Steve asked you that night.

He stared at you with this timid look, like he was afraid to know the answer. Not because you might say something bad, but because his own question only confirmed how far he’s drifted. He didn’t know Bucky anymore. He didn’t know the man who was once his family.

“He’s kind.” You whispered, your voice soft. “He’s stubborn, but kind. He’s still good, Steve. That good never died.”

Steve’s head drooped, a bitter-sweet smile graced his lips. “Yeah? He-” he huffed. “I knew…I knew he was still there.”

You shifted, chewing at your lip. “He told me about you.” You blurted, feeling the need to comfort him. “He didn’t talk about that part of his past much, but he told me about you.”

“He did?” Steve perked up, those blue eyes almost sparkling. 

“Yeah,” your lips curled in a timid smile. “He did. He told me about Coney Island- the hot dog stand, and the cyclone.”

Steve burst into a shocked flutter of laughter, his fists balling in his lap. “Yeah- Yeah, that sounds like him.” For a moment you could see the images flashing, like old film flickering between blinks, gone before he could grasp it. 

“He missed you, I think.” 

He looked up at you again, eyes glossed with unshed tears. His pink lips pressed together tightly, trying to control himself.

“He’d never say it, but-” you nodded. “I could see it. Whenever he talked about you, he got this look. I think he misses a lot, that time, who he was, but mostly you.”

Steve nodded slowly, pressing his knuckles to his eyes. “Yeah,” he huffed. “Me too.”

You wondered, for a moment, who they used to be together. You would never know their lives before the serum, before the ice, before time became their enemy. 

You could imagine it. Two kids in Brooklyn, fighting against the odds, against the looming horror of the world around them. A family born of a bond forged through fire and blood. 

You wondered who they’d be now, if things were different.

“A b*mb hidden in a news van ripped through the UN building in Vienna. More than 70 people have been injured. At least 12 are dead, including Wakanda's King T'Chaka. Officials have released a video of a suspect... who they have identified as James Buchanan Barnes... the Winter Soldier. The infamous HYDRA agent, linked to numerous acts of terrorism and political assassinations…”

The feeling that hit you as the news anchor went on was indescribable. Like a fist had wrapped around your ribs in a crushing grip, like threads had been sewn through your chest only to be pulled tighter and tighter. 

You physically clutched your chest, feeling the staggering rise and fall of your lungs expanding. Your bulging gaze bore into the pixelated photograph of Bucky’s blurry face. 

Vision, who you’d met days ago, was now at your side, his crimson hands steadying you. “Are you alright?”

The words scattered like smoke, fizzling into the nothingness that suffocated you. 

He didn’t do this. 

He wouldn’t do this. 

Not the Bucky you knew.

A different type of fear gripped you now. If it wasn’t your Bucky, it was him, and those people had found him. They found him, hadn’t they? They said those words, carving out the terrified creature they spent decades building. 

You had to squeeze your eyes shut, forcing yourself to look away from the video clip that replayed on the screen. 

If Bucky did this, then he’d lost. They got their precious pet back. The screams you fought so hard to bury in your darkest memories scraped their way into your ears. Into your psyche. Burning and tearing at the calm you tried so hard to cling to.

The image of Bucky’s- the Soldier’s- body seizing up and writhing in agony as they destroyed his brain. The smell of chemicals and blood. The sight of tears dripping along his jaw. 

If Bucky did this, the Bucky you knew was gone. They’d wiped him clean. 

So for once in your life, you refused to accept what was right in front of you.

The flight to Berlin was a limbo of anxiety. 

When you took a moment to see past your narrow sighted fear about Bucky, you noticed how quickly the fate of the Avengers was crumbling around you. Natasha and Tony spent almost every waking moment arguing, picking through a thick stack of papers that you came to know as the Sokovia Accords. 

You had been out of the loop for so long, that it took some adjusting for you to get what was on the table. 

The Avengers were powerful, in more ways than they knew. They were strong and fierce and fought for the good of the people. But their strength only bred further chaos.

A caged animal would claw and tear and snarl at every barrier in its path.

But a free animal, one that knew no bound, would mark and claim and destroy anything in their path, if their will demanded. 

You could see both sides of the debate, as it played out before you. Without rules, without consequences, what made the Avengers any different than those they fought? Were they just powerful people fighting according to their own agendas?

The one thing that balanced society was that no one was above the law. Or at least, it was supposed to be that way.

For you though, you always thought that people with the greater ability to handle terrifying matters should be the ones in charge of such. The confirmation of aliens and other worlds and other immense horrors only made you more sure of that. 

There were people out there capable of saving lives. Why stop that? But politics was politics. You were a doctor for a reason. You didn’t want to worry about such technical things. You just wanted to help people. 

But here you were, clinging to your seat as the jet hit the tarmac, trembling over the fate of the world.

Out of everyone involved in the current political and violent uproar, you were the least important when it came to keeping informed.

You had literally no idea what was happening. 

Straight off the plane, you, Natasha, and Tony, were taken to a large facility manned with gunmen. You almost couldn’t take it. It was too familiar. Too close to what was. 

You were led through halls that felt like a stretching tunnel system, until you found a large glass conference room. Before you could get a word out, agents in black gently escorted you away from your companions. 

It seemed that your affiliation with Bucky made you a liability. Or at least, you gathered as much when you were told to sit and wait for someone to begin your questioning. 

You couldn’t say you were shocked. You’d been in hiding with a serial assassin for over a year, only popping up right before the king of Wakanda is murdered. It was a bad look. But you just couldn’t focus on that. You couldn’t focus on your imposing criminal charges, or how suspicious they might find you.

All you could think about was what was happening to Bucky. 

They were going to take him, dead or alive. It didn’t matter. 

They were going to lock him away. They were going to kill him. 

You couldn’t bear it. Outside your glass cage, you watched soldiers and political agents fretting about computers, flickering through body camera footage. You couldn’t make sense of it. 

How could this be happening? After everything the world had thrown at you both, why this? Why were you forced to bear this weight?

Through your haze, you could see Natasha sternly speaking with a man in uniform outside the door. Their voices floated through the glass walls, but you couldn’t piece together their words. 

Natasha pushed past him and into the room. “How ‘re you doing?”

You went stiff, your scabbed hands shaking in your lap. “What’s going on?” You tried to steady your voice. 

Natasha slid smoothly into a chair close by. “Tony’s explaining your situation now. You’ll be cleared soon, don’t worry.”

You blinked at her, confusion sweeping through you at how easily they handled things. “What do you mean?”

“You’re not going to prison, Y/n,” she offered with a smile and a lifted brow.

“And Bucky?”

She sighed quietly, her gaze floating out to find Tony, who was on the phone. “That’s a bit more complicated.”

“He didn’t do this- not him.” You whispered, staring down at your shaking leg. “He didn’t.”

“It doesn’t matter now.” Natasha muttered. “Steve ’s rocked the boat, and he rocked it hard. It’s gonna take a lotta work to fix this shit.” She chuckled to herself dryly, pinching the bridge of her nose. She seemed to be thinking of something you couldn’t see. 

Something that wasn’t for you. 

“Have they found them?” You gulped.

Nat glanced back up at Tony and the agents outside the glass room. “Looks like it,” she stood. Your gaze followed hers to the many monitors and screens displaying footage of heavy duty vehicles rolling through the city. 

You shot to your feet, swaying a bit as you caught yourself. 

He’s in there.

They found him.

“Natasha-” You blurted, catching the woman in the doorway. “They won’t hurt him, right?” You kept your eyes on the armed truck as it flashed across the news. 

Natasha’s short moment of silence made you turn. “You should try not to work yourself up. It’s gonna be a long night.”

The glass door softly swung shut.

A sickness sunk through the pit of your stomach and spread in your veins. 

You couldn’t protect him from this. You couldn’t save him.

You always knew this. 

But God, why couldn’t you ever save the people you wanted to?

Bucky blinked, every flutter of his lashes heavy with the weight of exhaustion. His absent gaze swept over the cold, sterile environment around him. 

“Soldat, lay back.” A sharp voice commanded him. 

His body fell back onto the table without a fight. Tinted lights bore over him, exposing his naked flesh. He shivered as he felt the needle slide into his vein. 

After every mission, there was an in depth physical, tracking his vitals and mobility. His breath shuddered out in a cloud before him, puffing and floating. He tried to track what looked like smoke as it disappeared before him. 

His head lolled to the side, avoiding the staggering lights that blinded him. His eyes rolled shut. For a moment he thought he could fall asleep on that table, as the nurse examined his bionic arm. He could let the darkness take him, sweep him into the nothingness.

Like the calming force of the ocean, dragging his body through waves of salty ice. 

He was familiar with ice. Even now, as his body trembled from the freezing cold that seeped through the cement walls. He tried to picture the sun, tried to pretend the blinding light above him was the warm light of summer. 

He tried to remember warmth. He tried to remember the last time he was outside, free to roam. He tried to remember himself.

He was sure he was someone once. He was sure there was a before. Before the physicals, the needles, the pains, the death. There had to be.

He was young once, wasn’t he? 

Or was he truly just a weapon, built in a lab from spare parts?

A hand gently smacked his cheek, startling him awake. The older woman standing over him flicked a flashlight between his pupils. “Not yet, Soldat. You can’t sleep yet.”

His lips parted on words that wouldn’t come. He panted softly, shivering and numb as he was examined. 

Sleep wouldn’t come for him yet. 

But he was just so tired.

Steve shuffled into the glass room with an air of tense silence, Sam trailing behind him. You watched with a sense of dread building in your gut as they moved. 

They saw you and said nothing. 

“What-What’s happening? Where is he?” You tried to stand, but your weak legs trembled beneath you. 

Steve avoided your gaze, shame burning beneath his skin. 

Sam turned to you, helping you to sit down. “He’s downstairs,” he moved into the chair beside you. “He’s being psychologically evaluated.”

“Evaluated?” You frown, turning to look at Steve. “What for? They’re just-” you curled a fist in your hair. “They’re just gonna lock him up anyways.” You followed Steve’s stormy gaze to the monitors outside of the glass room. To the many images displaying Bucky, locked in a container.

A metal crate. A cage. Like an animal. 

You stifled a wrecked sob, your knuckles pressing your lips closed. 

You couldn’t handle it. The sight of him, his face, his arms bolted down, the armed guards. You couldn’t do it. 

You were struck by the sight of him alone. Blurry through unshed tears, but there. Alive. In the same building as you. So close, yet so out of reach. And there he sat, like a vicious animal, locked up.

You couldn’t imagine what he was thinking. What he felt. You thought of the day you guided him through a panic attack. You remembered the wild look in his eye, terrified and ready to fight. But now he just looked so defeated. So helpless. 

He thought he deserved this. 

Your stomach turned.

The glass door behind you swung open and a blonde woman strode in, handing Sam the receipts for his and Steve's suit. 

“Bird costume, really?” Sam huffed.

“I didn’t write it,” she rolled her eyes.

Steve glanced back at her. They shared a look. The woman's thin finger slipped onto a console in the center of the table and pressed a button. 

The TV in the corner of the room beeped, then an accented voice began speaking. “I’m not here to judge you…” You flinched, staring up at the screen. You saw Bucky, from a small camera built into his containment unit. “I just want to ask you a few questions.” A man with an accent spoke in a calm, patient voice.

“Do you know where you are, James?” Bucky was silent. “I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me, James.”

“My name is Bucky.” His voice came out a rough whisper. He spoke with a gentle shame, like he could only form the words to detest his birth name, and prove who he is.

You couldn’t take your eyes off him as the questioning continued. Steve picked up the case file of the bombing and began sifting through the pictures. You refused to look at the pixelated photo that resembled Bucky.

“Why would the task force release this photo to begin with?”

“Get the word out, involve as many eyes as we can.” Sharon offered.

“Right. It’s a good way to flush a guy outta hiding.” Steve replied thoughtfully. “Set off a bomb, get your picture taken. Get seven billion people looking for the Winter Soldier.

“You’re saying someone framed him to find him.” Sharon muttered quietly. 

You shifted in your seat, looking between the blondes. It made sense. It made perfect sense. This is what you were scared of.

“Steve, we looked for the guy for two years and found nothing.” Sam sighed. You glanced at the man, your jaw clenched.

“That was different,” you whispered.

“We didn’t bomb the UN. That turns a lotta heads,” Steve lifted a brow.

“Yeah, but that doesn’t guarantee that whoever framed him would get him, it guarantees that we would…” Sharon trailed off, her eyes shifting to Steve in a sceptical way.

All eyes turned to the TV now. Something cold crawled beneath your skin. Something cold and simmering and familiar. Something that felt a lot like dread.

“Tell me Bucky, you’ve seen a great deal haven’t you?” The doctor offered, his muted voice quietly floating back to your ears.

“...I don’t wanna talk about it…” Bucky whispered.

“You feel that if you open your mouth, the horrors might never stop?” The doctor turned to something on his table. “Don’t worry, we only have to talk about one…”

“Steve, this isn’t right-” You shakily rose from your chair. “This-”

The room went black. All lights and screens flickered to darkness. A red glow emitted from the emergency generated lights. 

Outside the glass room, chaos erupted. Men with guns began filtering into the hall. The air left you as your frantic eyes found Sharon.

“Sub level five, east wing,” she urgently explained. 

Steve and Sam shot out of the room in a flurry. You wavered, but Sharon caught you, holding you steady. “What’s happening?” You gasped. 

“I don’t know- but someones going through a whole lot of trouble to get to Bucky.” She helped you lean against the table. “I have to go, stay here.”

You couldn’t move as Sharon left you. You couldn’t move as the horrific thoughts filled your head. What was happening? 

The glass door swung open, Natasha popped her head inside. “Time to go, c’mon.” 

“What?” You staggered forward. “Where? What’s-”

“We don’t have time, you need to move with the evacuation. You’ll be safe with these agents, but you have to move.” She gently took your arm and led you out. 

“You’re going after him, aren’t you? He’s gotten out- he- the Winter Soldier,” you heaved, stumbling after Natasha. “You’re gonna kill him-”

“We aren’t going to kill anyone, Y/n- look at me.” Natasha gripped your shoulders. “I know you’re scared, but I need you to focus. Go with the evacuation. Let us handle this.”

Tony swept past the two of you, and without a word- only a firm look- Natasha left you with the crowd. 

The evacuation was hectic, dozens of agents and workers fleeing the building in a rush. You were swayed with the crowd, stumbling through men and women in suits. People were screaming.

Or maybe that was just the voices in your head, begging you to go, to find him. 

You stumbled outside, your thigh burning. You couldn’t catch your breath. It was the fear, you knew that, but you couldn't breathe. You never used to be so afraid. So constantly edging on anxiety. You used to be in control.

You couldn’t control anything now. You were helpless. 

“Y/n?” A voice called to you from afar. You spun on your heel, finding Sam. 

“Sam?” You gasped. “Sam- where- what happened?” You grasped his arm tightly as he clutched your shoulder 

His expression soured, then his gaze shifted to the crowd. “The doctor, it was him. He flipped the switch.”

You bit back the dry sob that wanted to escape. He did it. He said those words. He shattered the fragile wall Bucky spent so long building back up. And he ripped free something else. Something darker. Something tortured.

“Let me come with you,” you blurted. You hadn’t even realized you said the words until Sam gave you a funny look. “I can-”

“You’re staying far away from this.” Sam interjected. “You’re barely on your feet. You’re not coming.” 

“I can’t just-” You dug your hands into your hair, yanking at the strands. “Sam- I can’t leave him.”

Sam’s lips pulled into a soft frown. “You have to.”

You knew he was right. You weren’t a soldier. You weren’t an Avenger. What good could you bring? But you knew that you couldn’t turn away. You couldn’t just catch a plane back to the compound and wait it out. You wouldn’t leave him. “No, I don’t. I won’t.”

Sam steadied you with a pained look, but sighed. “You’re killing me, here.” He grimaced. He rubbed a hand down his face. “Head to the airport, we have backup coming and need someone to meet them there.”

*The old blue beetle stunk of aged leather and motor oil. The engine popped and rattled as Steve swung it into the parking garage. The normally packed garage was now empty, save for a few vehicles spotting the area. 

Bucky could only assume the airport was being evacuated. Most places were. Berlin had become grounds for the manhunt to find him. 

But he couldn’t focus on that. He could barely sit still. 

He’d become the Winter Soldier again, just like that. That man made it seem so easy, to pick him apart and reduce him to nothing but an obedient soldier. 

He’d hurt people. People were dead. And it was all his fault. 

The beetle made a screeching sound as it came to a halt, its old motor dying out. Steve and Sam climbed out, meeting a handful of others Bucky didn’t know. He didn’t move. Their voices carried against cement. Bucky stared down at his bionic fist, glaring at the shifting plates. 

“Thanks for having my back,” he heard Steve say. 

He slowly climbed out of the vehicle, rounding it to lean on the trunk as he waited.

“It was time to get off my ass.” A woman with red hair he didn’t recognize said.

“How about our other recruit?” Steve turned to Clint.

“He’s rarin’ to go. Had to put a little coffee in him,” Clint stepped back and yanked the van door open. “But, he should be good.” 

A man groaned from inside, then crawled out. “What time zone is this?” Scott squinted at the light, approaching Steve with awe.

Clint turned back to the van. He reached an arm inside, his voice low as he whispered a quick, “Watch your head.”

Bucky glanced up, like it was an afterthought. 

But then he saw it. 

Your head dipped under the van door as Clint helped you out, steadying you once you stood. 

Bucky’s breath hitched in his chest, the air around him stagnant and thin. He stumbled forward, his blue eyes wide and searching.

And then you saw him. 

Your eyes met. 

You released a sound resembling a sob. Maybe a cry. Maybe relief. 

The voices around you faded to static. The world slowed. 

Bucky’s body went rigid, like maybe this wasn’t real. Maybe it was a trick of his warped mind. Maybe it was a trick of the light, and if he moved too quickly, you might fade away.

Maybe he’d blink and none of it would be real.

But then you moved. 

You staggered forward on your bad leg, swift and unblinking as you closed the distance.

“Oh my god-” You wept, throwing yourself at him. Trembling arms wound around his back and yanked him close. Your face pressed to his shoulder as you sucked in a violent breath.

Bucky made a choked sound when you collapsed into his arms. He only moved once he felt your warmth seep through his clothes, your breath puffing against his chest through his clothes.

Then, like a thread snapping, his weight sagged into you.

He curled his flesh palm around your nape, pressing you close. His metal arm slithered around your waist, tight and unyielding. He  buried his nose in your hair. He could smell your shampoo. 

You were real.

He let out a trembling breath, his grip growing tighter. He clung to you, cradling you close to his body in a way he hadn’t in decades. You curled your fingers in his shirt, stretching the worn threads. “I thought-” He whispered, his voice rough against your crown. “I thought you-” He couldn't finish the thought.

You trembled in his arms, your fingers curling in his shirt and hair, threads and strands tugged gently in your fist. You felt the stuttering rise and fall of Bucky’s chest against yours. His heart beat. 

He’s alive.

“I almost was,” you whispered, pulling back just enough to look at him, still close enough to feel his breath. One hand, shaken with tremors, curled around his jaw, softly brushing his cheek. “I almost- They picked me up again…” You stared widely at the man who was once your safety. “I’m so sorry,” Your voice wavered.

Bucky just stared at you, his weighted left arm curling tighter around you. He watched the way your gaze flickered over his face, and the way your lips formed your frantic words. Your shoulders rose and fell subtly with each breath. You looked different. You looked sunken in, tired. You looked like you.

He felt the urge to cradle your face in his hands and touch his forehead to yours. To feel your breath on his skin. 

You were so close, but in that moment it wasn’t close enough.

“I thought they-” You pressed your mouth in a line, forcing yourself to swallow your words. “Oh, Bucky-” you blinked back the tears blurring your vision. The calloused fingers on the back of your neck dragged forward. His warm thumb swept along your cheek, brushing away unshed tears.

You took a moment to stare at him now, closer than you felt you’d ever been. He looked so different, yet unchanged. 

His long hair looked tousled and unkept. His blue eyes looked bright and tortured, shadowed by his pinched brow. His blushed lips parted on words he could never get out. His stubble had grown in, you could feel the rough drag of it beneath your palm. 

You noticed the red henley.

When Bucky didn’t respond, your expression relaxed, your lips quirked up. “You’re wearing my shirt.” You muttered, your gaze flickering down to the red henley.

He released a quick breath. You felt it fan across your cheek. His strong hands loosened, slowly releasing you. “Technically, It’s mine,” his voice was rough, but quiet.

“Technically.” You swallowed, sliding a step back. 

“Besides, I think I’ve ruined it.” He shifted his prosthetic arm towards you, showcasing the burnt black bullet holes in the sleeve.

You bit back a smile. “Dick.”

He huffed out an ill timed laugh.

A loud speaker overhead blared an alarm, a voice speaking German followed. You flinched as the sound travelled, echoing through the garage. Bucky’s hand settled on your waist. 

“They’re evacuating the airport.” He swallowed, looking back to the others, who you now realized were watching you. You flushed in embarrassment at your emotional outburst. You slowly released Bucky. 

“Stark?” Sam glanced back at Steve. The man you met in the van, Scott, echoed the word.

And then reality came crashing down on you in one heavy swoop.

“Suit up.” Steve commanded, already moving into the beetle's truck to fetch his shield. 

Your wide eyes found Bucky again. “What’s happening?” 

Those tragic blues swept over your face. “I have to go.” Those whispered words felt like another ending, wedged right into their newest beginning. 

“What?”

“There’s-” he swallowed, like he was still piecing together his mind after coming out of the controlled mind space. “There’s more Winter Soldier’s.” You gaped at him. “In Siberia.”

“Siberia? Where you were kept?” 

He nodded, glancing up to see everyone moving to start changing. “The doctor from the compound is going after them. We have to stop him.” His voice was low, barely a whisper.

“You’re going to Siberia?” You took a second to catch up. You were beyond overwhelmed. 

Steve stepped close to you, holding out a folded tactical uniform to Bucky. “We need to go, Buck.” His voice edged on awkward guilt. 

You pulled back, giving Bucky space to take the gear. You couldn’t stop this. No matter how much you wanted to. And besides, if there was anyone who was going to get this done, it was Bucky. 

Bucky took the suit, then turned back to you. “You need to get out of here.” His tone shifted to something familiar, something like the voice you heard through the radio months ago. 

“He’s right, if Tony’s here, we aren’t leaving here without a fight. Take a car and get away from the airport, understand?” Steve said gently, with that firm but kind set of his brow.

You swallowed as a set of keys were pushed into your hand. “Okay…” you whispered, the keys making a soft sound as you shook. 

To your shock, Bucky slid his palms around your face and lifted your jaw to look at him. “Be careful.” He urged, his cold metal fist soft on your skin. 

“Back at you,” you whispered, gently petting his knuckles before pulling away. “I’ll see you after this, okay?”

It felt too soon. Too quick. You had two seconds to feel him breathe beneath your hands, and now he was slipping away again. And he was leaving, charging towards danger in a way you weren’t used to. You just wanted to keep him safe.

His jaw clenched, the muscles fluttering in his cheek. He nodded firmly.

 But somehow, even as he agreed, you worried even he didn't believe it.

A/N: I am starting to regret not squishing a bunch of the earlier chapters into one to make them longer... ugh... whatever :) Hope you guys enjoyed. I also hope ya'll played the song for the reunion portion....

@rafesgurl @pleasecallmeunhinged @jason-todd-fangirl-14 @frog-fans-unite @lonelyghosts-stuff @cherryandsugar @a-world-with-pure-imagination @unicornqueen05 @cupids-mf-arrow @sharkylalala @littlesuniee @meineguete @hawkinsavclub1983 @theconsultingdoctor10 @dollface-xoxo @bloodmocha @natalia42069 @nicolebarnes @fallen-w1ngs @justachillgirllui @avaout @local-crazy @nynxtea @cherryheairt

[kujiba]

||MAY THE LAND CONCEAL YOU, DEAR GRACE||

୨୧ — ꒰ gn!reader | they/them prounouns | Sagau | cultish behavior

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 6

A/n: I had a good shit today so I'll bless you all with a new chapter ( not proof read, correct me in any mistakes)

Jean's clear sapphire eyes gawked at the sight of an empty room, it's walls barely hanging by a thread, an attempt to keep everything in it's place; it's reason being directed towards the widely open area that leaves to the vast outside world.

Her lip's trembled with outrage by how their prisoner (Name), had breached through their defenses and escaped under their noses without anybody noticing only till the last second. Jean's fists tightly curled up into a ball, a fire starting in her heart that will not extinguish till her target is brought to justice.

Only imagining how that person could be running around freely in their lives without any consequences daring to come back and tear their life down made Jean's stomach twist and turn out of disgust.

5 hours till (Name)'s execution.

5 hours till they could find (Name).

Jean's mind had been put on a road, a road she will follow till the end of her lifetime, she dared not to look back at her actions and consequences. For her heart knew what must be done in order to preserve justice among the townsfolk, among her people and friends.

Her gloved hand made it's way to the hilt of her sword and drew it out towards the crumbling barrier "Hunt down (Name)! Issue every individual to hunt for them in the land. Those who successfully capture (Name) will be granted a reward of 2,000,000 Mora" Her voiced boomed around the thick interior, the knights accompanying her gladly followed and raised their own swords as well "Kill the fraud! Kill the fraud! Kill the fraud!" They chanted all together, a declaration of war happening towards one individual.

"Kill the fraud under any circumstances!"

!!!!

"Ugh why do I have to do this again?" You grumbled under your breath with irritation as you wielded a plain sword you had gotten for free from the system tightly in your hands. By your side was the system, navigating you through your needs to grow more powerful and stronger.

MISSION:

Kill 50 slimes [24/50]

Kill 50 hilichurls [12/50]

Kill 3 Ruin guards [0/3]

Rewards: advance to level 25, unlock 4 star weapon, +1 level up to talents

You scowled at the words displayed infront of you, of course it had to have all sorts of missions... You disliked it but deep inside you knew no other choices were displayed infront of you. Taking a deep sigh the tip of your sword met with the strange liquidity substance of an hydro slime, piercing it to death. The details were very much more advanced than you had seen from the game, every move; you felt it. This wasn't a dream, the blood you've taken from hilichurls wasn't a dream, being locked away was definitely not a damn dream.

'No.. What am I thinking, I have to focus on completing this stupid mission' You sighed to yourself contemplating whether or not you're finally safe. Turning your blade against another pack of slimes who had spawned from the ground, you dashed towards the creatures and shredded their bodies into small fluids that fell onto the floor, some also getting stuck on your sword much to your dismay.

As your focus shifted to cleaning off the translucent fluid on your blade the system suddenly began going haywire, loud and consistent beeping echoed through the screen as you were forced to face it to find out what is making that unpleasant sound come from the screen.

" WARNING! WARNING! DANGER IS RAPIDLY APPROACHING [INITIATING AUTO MODE] "

A bright crimson text presented itself on your face, the words reflecting against your eyes as you tried to comprehend what the system was trying to do, your lips quivered trying to find words to say to mutter but only a deaf silence came. Your silence quickly faded as you let out a cry, you felt a sudden strong ache on your shoulder as if something had pierced through you (it didn't help it felt like it was burning too).

Looking to your side your pupils stopped at a blazing wooden arrow had penetrated your own shoulder, crimson liquid trailed down your clothes staining it whole while your own knees decided to give in, dropping to the ground. Round droplets of tears falled down your cheeks for the pain had reached through your brain at lightning speed, your palm grasped the wound tightly, an attempt to stop the bleeding.

"Agh, who..." You managed to mumble out those two words out of your unsynchronized breathing, a pair of (E/c) pupils darted around the vast green land to wiggle out the source of the one who attacked you.

It barely took a second till your sight landed on a familiar brunette at a distance, her gloved hand gripped her bow tightly as she summoned 3 pairs of arrows, aiming directly towards your direction. You were quickly alarmed by the girls actions, your mind quickly flooded with a thousand questions as to why Amber had suddenly attacked you for no reason.

"Amber?...." you whispered out her name and quickly regretted it seeing as her expression stiffened even more: "Shut it. Don't ever say my name out of that disgusting mouth of yours" She stated out her words loud and clear, you could barely even gather any of the previous amber you know and love deep in your heart. The throbbing pain in your shoulder muscle only covered as a nuisance at your disposal, you peered down at your legs that were covered in dirt and small ounces of blood that came from your shoulder.

You hesitantly looked back at amber to see what she was doing only to find out she had been gathering the knights at favonius towards your direction. 'SHIT! SHIT! System!' your desperation reached through the system, begging it to help you in this situation. You shutted your eyes tightly, hoping that you would only hear the systems voice the next moment and not Amber's or any of the knights of favonius.

A familiar voice rang out inside your ears that let you breathe a sigh of relief

[INSTALATION COMPLETE, ENTERING AUTO MODE]

The Ai like voice were very last thing that went through your mind before your vision began to fade along with your consciousness. You felt your body didn't meet the solid ground yet but only remained standing, your mind wondered on events that were taking place while you weren't in control of your own body.

The sounds that you could vaguely differentiate were the sounds of Jean's roaring voice along with rapid footsteps coming your way, you only hoped deeply that once your eyes flutter open again, you will be in a much safer area and far away from mondstat.

✧✧✧

Jean's gloved hand tightly held the hilt of her sword, it's blade reflecting against the golden and copper colored mixture of the sky around them. A small wind blew past her blond locks making her sapphire eyes and stern expression ever the more clearer.

Beside her was the knights of favonius, that included Kaeya, Amber, Lisa and Noelle. Jean's gaze shifted to noelle as she mentally shook her head at the young girls decision to come along. She would've much preferred Noelle to be out of this hunt/battle but the maids persistence was rock solid, she had stated herself 'My loyalty to the knights of favonius is as strong as my love for the creator. I will not let some foolish scoundrel get away with this.'

With a final nod, Jean straightened her back and pointed the tip of her blade towards the direction of (Name), her expression cold as ever towards them: How could she not afterall? This was certainly not a first for someone to suddenly step up and declare themselves as the creator just to gain power and control everyone. Her lips scowled lowly with her gaze piercing through (Name)'s skull.

"Imposter! I, the acting grand master Jean declare you an enemy of Mondstadt. You dare to fool us again with your pathetic tricks? Your head will be displayed at the center of Mondstadt, to show and warn any of your other repulsive companions" As her voice boomed across the vast land her followers roared in agreement, declaring that (Name) was a dunce for even attempting to step inside their borders.

(Name)'s head only hung low facing the ground, their expression unclear but Jean took that as a sign to take charge, she putted her blade infront of her face flat and quickly turned it vertically, she soon casted her ultimate "Wind, hear me!" the very same time she announced her burst a glowing circular anemo field surrounded the knights of favonius as small little dandelions floated in the air.

The anemo field casted as an attack buff for the party as many began charging towards (Name)'s direction. Kaeya being the fastest one and summoned his own ultimate "Don't get a frostbite" he smirked, raising his palm in the air, a glowing white emitted from his hand which then summoned large cryo icicles around his body, those icicles which almost pierced (Name)' s limbs if they hadn't swiftly jumped back and dodged them all.

"Heh, Dodge this!" Kaeya thrusted his sword towards (Name) as the same pure cryo icicles came out of his blade. (Name) was about to dodge once again to avoid Kaeyas attack but noticed how he was smirking the whole time, why was he smirking? (Name) felt someone's gloved hands touch their back: that was because Lisa who had abruptly appeared behind (Name) had her hand on them.

Without a second, a sudden surge of electricity flowed through their body top to bottom, (Name)'s body having some small little violet electrical effects. Lisa hummed in satisfaction, her lips turning upright as she backed away from them "Aha, How dirty." She expressed teased in such a mocking voice towards (Name), after all they were another fraud attempting to cheat through the top.

"Nice one, Lisa" Kaeya added then began clapping both of his hands together "I'll leave the rest to you, Noelle" Kaeya's slate blue eyes fixated on the young maid behind him who only gave a affirmative nod "Time to clean up." Noelle brought out her claymore which then started to quickly glow with a beautiful golden color at her words.

(Name)'s automatic system were slightly damaged by the electricity given by Lisa, but thankfully recovered enough to catch the young maidens claymore in mid air.

Noelle gasped in bewilderment, that action also shook Kaeya, Lisa, Jean and the other knights of Favonius to their core "You..." Noelle muttered to (Name) with her hands slightly shaking "Are you actually?-...." yet Noelle couldn't finish what she was trying to say before getting thrown away by (Name)'s brute strength alone.

She stumbled over the grass and used her claymore to keep balance, her eyes never taking off (Name)'s figure for even a second.

(Name) used the opportunity immediately and ran away from the knights of favonius while they on the other hand were trying to process what just happened.

Jean tightly held the grip of her sword with a face full of confusion and hatred towards the unpredictable individual. Jean bit her lip with her gaze on the area where (Name) previously was, with a long sigh she letted go of her blade, the item fading into small little yellow particles.

"They're still injured. They can't run for long." Jean maintained a stoic expression towards the knights of favonius, yet deep inside, her burning flame of hatred towards (Name) only kept growing by the second.

Kaeya nodded his head to Jean's words and also made his sword dissapere in the meantime. Even though (Name) successfully escaped Kaeya couldn't help but smile "Oh poor Imposter, they should've just complied and come with us" He shook his head in dissapointment of their actions "Now you will have to face the wrath of my dear brother."

The knights of favonius weren't the only people after you, every inch and corner of Mondstadt has people bloodthirsty for your blood to be spilled on their territory. The woods, the caves, the mountains, each one of those have people ready to attack incase the Imposter comes for protection and shelter.

But no one could compare to the absolute beast a certain redhead becomes in the night, where he swore to spill the Imposters blood in his hands and leave their flesh to be ravaged by the animals. His siganture weapon The Wolf's Gravestone, a long and heavy claymore with its design having a crimson red and dark shaded black with rough textures. It's color would shine brighter in the night sky where the moon would reflect it, only those who were killed by the holder could witness the beauty of the weapon and the murderous son of Master Crepus; Diluc Ragnvindr

...

You lowkey felt that all of what happened was just you being high while dreaming cause one; why are the characters you cried, sweat, and worked so hard for trying to hunt you down like you were in the hunger games.

And two, why the heck did you woke up in a dark cave with so much injuries!? It hurts like shit! You would've thought the moment you got your conscious back from the system you would be safe and sound. CLEARLY, alot had happened when the system was taking over your body.

As you were brainstorming ideas on possibilities and attempting to remember how to be like Katniss everdeen a blue screen popped up beside you once again, this time it showed your current stats

...

LVL 17/25

Max hp: 500/1,237

Atk: 234

Def: 100

Elemental mastery: 1,000

Max stamina: 240

Crit rate: 30%

Crit damage: 90%

Energy Recharge: 400%

"... what the hell" Your mouth dropped seeing how fast your stats advanced so much, all that after grinding for 2 hours!? Has the system finally took pity on your sorry ass and gave you a blessing?!

Aside from that your brows furrowed slightly at your health. Your hp bar is currently at orange since your body took alot of blows, classic game design.

But all that aside, it was definitely shocking to see your previous low level stats ascend to higher numbers by only using like 20% of your own body power. And with just that simple buff, maybe you'll let the system live another day..

[System entering automatic shut down after overheating, Duration: 2 Hours]

You take everything back.

'Curse you system! How dare you take over my body and make me wake up like I've just been at war!!' Your hands tightly balled up, clenching tighter and tighter by the second a clear vein popping out of your forehead with it bulging slightly.

Out of frustration the side of your clenched hand met with the surface of the cold, solid ground of the eery cave. The sound echoing throughout the interior of the place growing smaller and smaller by the second,

You quickly regretted that decision though since your hand hurted like hell, the skin turning slightly red because of the impact received from the ground below.

You brought your swollen reddened hand closer to your chapped lips to blow on it carefully, you're severely dehydrated and starving, not to mention the never ending stinging of the wounds on your body you received from the fight.

If you were honest to yourself. Sitting inside a dark and empty cave with nothing but the deafening sound of silence was uncomfortable. The system would return after 1 hour and 29 minutes, so you just had to find out a way to survive without it for a while.

You'd grown used to hearing small little 'ping!' from the system and getting flashed with a bright blue screen on your face. But now it's just you and well... You.

Your (e/c) eyes glanced towards your vision dangling from the side of your hip. You took notice on how it weirdly was glowing all of a sudden, isn't this when a characters burst is charged up?

Unfortunately.

You cannot press Q or any button to just automatically cut into a burst animation, Actually are you a 4 star or 5 star?...

"Dang I think I broke it." You mumbled to yourself while your index finger slightly scratches your cheek, the system was a jerk since it refuses to give you a simple guide on how to do this and that.

Your body shuddered like a leaf as a cold harsh wind blew inside the already dark and gloomy cave. Stands of hair flew towards your face making you looks more haggard than before, but you still protectively turned your back to face away from the intense breeze.

Bringing your legs closer to your chest to emith warmth around your freezing and shaking body you leaned the side of your head on the stone wall then began slowly itching more and more towards the darkness to make a distance from the cave gate since it looked like it was beginning to rain heavily tonight.

To cope with your issues and problems, you instinctively began ranting inside your head with your expression full of dissapointment and annoyance

''Damn reincarnation, nothing good happened! All I got was getting kidnapped then hunted down?!''

If you could freely activate your dendro vision things would be much helpful for you!! But NO your skills are locked away from the system, you're unable to level up or grind to ascension since the knights of favonius and people of Mondstadt could be everywhere!

If bitch was a person they 100% must be fucking with you.

But then, your ranting came to an abrupt halt as the sounds of footsteps began closing in on you. Footsteps that didn't seem to be a mob nor group, but instead coming from one person.

You felt a cold sweat drip down your cheek with multiple scenarios racing through your mind gathering every and any possibility that could happen once they found your hide out.

You quickly covered your dendro vision using your own clothes as a coverage since it was still glowing brightly throughout the gloomy cave, and being the only source of light aside from the radiating moonlight high above the jet black sky with many stars accompanied by it.

"If I can't see them then they can't see me." You internally thought to yourself and quickly took advantage of the caves darkness, using it to cover and blend in with the surrounding area and hide from whatever is out there.

You hoped to yourself and prayed that it was just some random npc who doesn't give a single fuck about you and let you off the hook, what you DESPERATELY don't wish for is some vision holder coming out for you, especially a certain blonde, brown and red haired trio.

"If you can see me through this darkness then you must have some sort of 24/24 vision or something" you lamented in your head while dozing off to some random school memory you had in your past that was until two large pair of black boots stopped directly infront of the caves entrance making you freeze and mentally shit yourself.

"WTFF!! I know those shoes anywhere! Since I worked my ass off to buy that very skin!!" Your mouth dropped to it's lowest seeing as they began to slowly move towards where you were hiding at. You immediately shifted positions quickly and as quietly as you can, using both of your hands to hide any loud breathing or sounds you might accidentally let out.

Your eyes shrinked while eyeing their gloved hand feeling around the pitch dark area you were previously sitting in. Your only choices now was hope they don't find and grab you before ending your right there and then, or make a run for it.

Second choice not looking so good huh

"You can't see me, you can't see me" You repeated endlessly to yourself while trying to stop your body from shaking like a leaf that just got blown over by a strong gust of wind. The person eventually retracted their hand from the dark and took a step back and towards the caves entrance making you sigh in relief.

Your eyes that were ungulfed in darkness looked towards them, their hair color not being much clear to you since you guys were inside a cave without any source of light other than the caves entrance, with a small nod you unconsciously formed a small smile "Thank goodness... Now just go awa-" But that happiness quickly dissolved for you felt a gloved hand roughly grab you by the collar of your shirt and threw you to the caves entrance where the moons light shined down on your body, revealing your presence to them.

"Fuck!..." You cursed under your breath and letted out a rugged cough since your lungs were having a hard time inhaling some air.

Your (e/c) pupils met with a pair of the same black boots that were in the cave that made your breath hitch and stop for a moment, this was your end and you knew it. Out of all the people you had to encounter, you were met with the intense stare and fury deep inside the red heads heart.

Your lips quivered with a severe feeling of fear rush through every part of your body, barely making out his name you desperately did not want to believe in;

"Diluc?..."

3rd Person Pov

There were many stories floating across the nations of Teyvat, Diluc wasn't an exception since his father, Crepus, frequently reader him and Kaeya a small story before bed. A story about a god who was seen as the glory and perfection of the people living in teyvat.

Soft looking (Hair color) locks that glistened under the moons luminosity and was said to feel like brushing your fingertips through a valley of soft fabric, a beautiful body that was carved out by the gods with their own hands to produce what they call 'perfect' for a person; they had carved for 5 months and 20 extra days to slowly built the base for their grace without a stop since they were afraid to even make the smallest mistake for such a large responsibility.

Dilucs vermillion eyes gazed down on (Name) and studied their features from a distance. In all of the stories he had read there was never a same picture for what their grace looked like as they took on many forms throughout their rule. Yet for some reason, What diluc imagined his grace to look like was oddly on point with the person sprawled down on the ground with their hands and pants now dirtied from the soil below.

But no matter what the person or cause, Diluc had come to a conclusion when their grace left. That they had abandoned them all. And he, existed to purge and exterminate anyone who defies his god.

"Don't call me like that you pest" Diluc blurted out towards (Name) which made their eyes widened and their eyebrows wrinkle together, "What?" they muttered with confusion evident in their voice.

Diluc clenched his teeth together and held his tounge back from saying anything unnecessary "It was an idiotic move for you to step inside mondstat territory you fraud." Dilucs right foot stepped forward as yellow particles began to form near his fingers and created his signature weapon, the wolves Gravestone "Burn."

He swung his claymore forward and unleashed a ginormous blazing pheonix that would burn anything in it's path, and that ultimate was coming right towards (Name)'s direction.

"Shit!! Wait! Hold on!" (Name) panicked vigorously as they felt their skin heating up by the second. (Name) attempted to bolt out the way but suddenly felt their left leg get trapped by something, looking down their mouth dropped seeing as they were caught in a bear trap specifically used for hunting boars.

"NONONO SYSTEM!!" (Name) desperately shouted while the phoenix slowly got closer and closer to (Name) making them feel hopeless at the current situation.

**Ting!

''Given conditions have been met, automatically unleashing burst,,

An AI voice rang throughout (Name)'s ears making them hiss and groan in pain, their dendro vision that was covered through their clothes fabric shined brighter than ever making Diluc himself stunned by its glowing aura, one that he had never seen before.

"My grace?"

Just before the blazing pheonix could reach (Name), long ropes made out of strong roots emerged from the landscape and formed a protective shield around them, blocking (Name) from the incoming attack and further damage.

Before Diluc could get back to his senses and spam his burst, even more roots resurfaced and wrapped around Dilucs arms and legs tightly making him groan and drop his claymore to the ground making a loud 'clang!'

(Name) stared at the situation dumbfounded by its power, they shakily looked over to their vision that was now flickering and barely remaining it's iconic glow

"Holy shit I'm op"

They huffed in amazement, slightly terrified yet proud of their new found power even beginning to get sidetracked of their current messy situation.

Diluc stared at (Name) who had sparkles inside their eyes as they were practicing on doing it again but unfortunately failed miserably,

Without even Diluc knowing, his gaze softened at the sight of the joyful individual. It was like watching his own fantasies he had made as a child play out in front of him like a show he yearned his whole life, a dream where he would watch his grace enjoy their life to the fullest with him always being by their side.

But just now, a small blaze ignited deep inside his heart. It wasn't hatred connected to them, but hope. Hope that there was a possibility that the person standing across from him with roots and veins protectively around their body... Was his grace?

Without a moment of hesitation Diluc easily ripped apart the veins that were holding him back and landed on the ground swiftly making (Name) shriek at the sight of the red head slowly making his way towards them.

He stopped when he was only a small distance away then crouched, he kneeled at (Name)'s presence with a soft expression evident on his face though inside he was holding himself back for a rush of excitement and adrenaline coursed through his veins.

"Welcome back my gra-"

[Fixing complete, automatically teleporting you to the nearest statue of the seven..]

(Name) stared at the screen in absolute horror making Dilucs expression shift to one of confusion. He was about to say something till he also made a look of horror since (Name)'s body started to slowly fade away

Terror and anxiety replaced whatever diluc felt at that very moment, were they going to dissapere once again? You can't. He won't ever allow it

"YOUR GRACE!!"

Diluc charged forward, the tip of his fingers about to reach (Name) but they were already gone before he knew it. Diluc dropped to the floor with beads of sweat rolling down his forehead, (Name) had just been teleported away by the system and diluc had to go find them again before the others get to (Name) first.

But the system had surely made a mistake. Because surely they purposely didn't teleport (Name) to INAZUMA where they saw death themselves right?

"Maybe if I pretend I didn't see them then they won't see me.."

And what's with the person that looked like them sitting on top of a statue looking all high and mighty? That's way too dangerous.

...

"I'm so fucked"

[girlactionfigure]

The return of the hostages from Hamas captivity is of the utmost importance to Israel. 

I thought it might be helpful for some of you to hear just a bit more about certain individuals that Israel is releasing in order for that to happen. The sacrifice being made.

A thread: 

1) Mohammad Abu Warda, responsible for 2 bus bombings in the 90s which murdered 46 people.

He made it clear at his trial that he would never stop murdering until Israel was destroyed. He was given multiple life sentences.

Now he'll be freed. 

2) Arafat Irfaiya. In 2019 he raped Ori Ansbacher, a 19-year old, and stabbed her to death. He was sentenced to life in prison, plus 20 years.

Now he'll be freed, and no doubt treated as a hero.

3) Zakaria Zubeidi, former Jenin commander of the Al-Aqsa Martyrs Brigade. Responsible for the 2002 terror attack in Beit Shean in which 6 were murdered. In 2019 he was charged with shooting attacks on civilian buses.

There will be widespread rejoincing in Jenin when he returns.

4) Bilal Abu Ghanem. In 2015 he and a fellow terrorist boarded a bus and began shooting and stabbing passengers. Three died, and dozens were wounded. 

He received 3 consecutive life sentences.

Now he'll be freed. Here are two of the people in their 70s who he murdered.

5) Wael Qassem and Wissam Abbasi, leaders of the Hamas-affiliated Silwan cell. Responsible for the carrying out of multiple bombings in the Second Intifada, which killed dozens (one of these bombings, at the Cafeteria at Hebrew University in 2002, pictured).

Now to be set free.

6) Ahmed Barghouti, relative & close associate of Marwan Barghouti.

Ahmed is responsible for a number of terror attacks, including a notorious mass-shooting in 2002 at a reception hall in Hadera (pictured) where people were celebrating a Bat Mitzvah.

Now to be freed.

7) Mahmoud Atallah. Given a life sentence for murdering a Palestinian woman who was accused of collaborating with Israel. More recently, manage to sexually assault and rape female prison guards. 

Now to be freed.

8) Ashraf Zughayer. Hamas leader accused of involvement in the 2002 bus bombing on Allenby Street in Tel Aviv, which killed 6 and injured dozens.

Now he'll go free.

9) Tabet Mardawi of Palestinian Islamic Jihad. Responsible for multiple terror attacks, including suicide bombings at stations in Binyamina (pictured) & Afula, a bombing at a bombing at a restaurant in Kiryat Motzkin (pictured).

Now he'll go free.

10) Nassim Zaatari. Received multiple life terms for his role in a 2003 terror attack when a suicide bomber detonated a five-kilogram device packed with ball bearings on a crowded bus in Jerusalem. 23 murdered, including 7 children.

Now he'll be free.

11) Ahmad Obeid, was sentenced to seven life terms for his role in sending out the suicide bomber responsible for the 2004 Café Hillel terror attack in Jerusalem.

Now he'll be free.

12) Leili Abu Ragila. Was serving life imprisonment for his role in the 2006 kidnap and murder of a high school student, Eliyahu Asheri (pictured).

Now he'll go free.

13) There are many more. Murderers. Terrorists. They will go free. They will be greeted as heroes when they do.

Israel is in an impossible situation. The hostages taken by Hamas *must* be freed. But a terrible price is being exacted for that to happen. 

14) Jews around the world rejoice with the families of those who have been reunited with loved ones released by Hamas yesterday.

We also grieve with the families who are seeing those terrorists responsible for their loved ones' deaths walk free. 

15) One more thought, if I may. You will see media outlets, certain commentators, even some politicians, trying to equate the hostages being released by Hamas with prisoners being released by Israel.

As the above thread shows, such a comparison is grotesque. Show them the truth. 

16) I know this thread will not have been pleasant to read or see. I hope, however, that if you have read this far, you found it informative. Please do share it if you found it helpful. 

*Thread ends* 

@Daniel_Sugarman

[thecapricunt1616]

Cinnamon - (c.b. one-shot)

Snippet (more BTC): “Can I- take your panties off…p-please?” He asked shyly “wanna make y’feel good - wanna taste your pussy I miss it s’much - tastes so good baby please lemme taste you” he said and his whiney husky voice mixed with his breathlessness from being shoved into the fabric of your dripping cunt made you clench around nothing. 

♡ One Shot Inspo: Cinnamon invokes lust and is considered an aphrodisiac. It can be used in love spells as well as for sex magic. Burn cinnamon to stimulate your spiritual powers and increase your psychic ability and awareness.

♡ Summary: Carmy hasn't had pussy in 2 weeks....he nearly died (he's a drama queen, but you love it) So, being the loving amazing GF you are you Mountain Dewed it up down left right (oh!!) switched it up like Nintendo - and did it so well you put his ass to sleep. (I listened to Espresso the whole time writing this its literally all I could think about hahahah)

♡ W/C: 4,140

♡ Posted Date: 05/12/2024

♡ A/N: HEYYYY!!! Okay okay so MORE STAGEFRIGHT because the amazing wonderful talented goddess level writer @l4long-winded sent in ♡THIS♡ big brain beautiful ask, and let me tell you I had some THOUGHTS!!! I have such a worship kink so .... yeah this was v fun to write. I hope you love reading as much as I loved writing. My dear please send in a request whenever you want!! Requests are open per usual :D

♡ Warnings for BTC: Kinda Sub!Carmy, Smut, Fem!Reader, AFAB!Reader, No use of Y/N, No use of physical descriptors, Black!Fem!Reader friendly (i'm pretty sure pls tell me if smth needs editing!), Kinda Virgin!Carmy, Not edited (we die like men)

♡ 𝐌𝐲 𝐋𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬 ♡ ➵ 𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 ♡ ➵ 𝐂𝐚𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐲 𝐨𝐧𝐞-𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐚𝐠𝐞 ♡ ➵ 𝘊𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 / 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘵 ♡ ➵ 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬 ♡

It had been quite literally a fortnight since Carmy had been able to fuck you. It was all he’d thought about, well - when his brain wasn’t busy going a million miles an hour about the restaurant, which is exactly what had taken up so much of his time lately. He’d usually be grateful for this kind of work, the kind of work that he’s going in at 3:15 and not getting home until 11:30 pm or midnight when you were already fast asleep. 

He was exhausted, emotionally, physically, mentally, spiritually - but sexually?! He wasn’t sure he had ever been so wound up before. His nightly sessions of jerking his cock in the shower, biting his hand to keep as quiet as he could while he thought of the view of you when he came in that night. One leg hoisted up, nightgown ridden up over your ass. The one you knew he loved, and some of his favorite panties. 

You called them your lazy girl panties because you told him you only wore them when you weren’t expecting anyone else to see them, but that very fact meant drooled over them. The slight discoloration from being so old, the little threads hanging off the leg holes and waistband. The tiny hole right in the waistband that he loved to thumb with while cuddling in bed. 

 Two weeks. Fourteen days. Three hundred and thirty six hours. Twenty thousand, one hundred and sixty minutes. 

That had been how long he had gone without being inside of you. He didn’t know his dick could get depressed, but his dick was fucking depressed. Getting off felt like a chore. When he’d jack off, he took an extra 15 minutes yanking on the thing because he could barely cum anymore, even though his balls were aching like he needed to. 

Every time he got home, he’d stand in the doorway, just watching you. You would be peacefully asleep, chest lightly rising and falling, your beautiful body covered by some loose sleep thing. A loose sleep thing that he fantasized about ripping off into shreds. 

Tonight though - he could cry. You were up - you were fucking awake. Through his own selfish desires he didn’t even realize it was abnormal, the only thing he could think about was the blood rushing to his cock at the mere idea you could possibly potentially be in the mood. “Baby?!” He nearly tripped over his own two feet rushing to your shared bedroom. 

You were sat up on the bed, book on your thighs - a loose nightgown that accentuated your curves and hugged your peaked nipples uncovered by any bra. He could bust in his pants and all you were doing was reading. Reading what? He could care less honestly because his cock was starting to hurt. 

You sat up, putting your legs over the side of the bed to get up and greet him “Bear! How was work love? I wanted to stay up so that we could - what’re you…” you trail off confused as he slinks to his knees before you, between your thighs and lifting up your leg, putting the top of your foot to his lips. 

“In…22 minutes” he starts between kissing up your bare ankle and calf “it..will have been..15..days..” he stopped at your thighs, his cheek smushed against the flesh, he looked like he could both cry and that he was coming home. “Since I touched you. Please. Please baby - can I make you feel good? Mm?” He mumbled into your skin. “Please princess? I’m dyin’ here. I’m fuckin- I literally cut my hand t’day thinkin’ bout you. I fuckin need you” he kissed over each little tiny inch of your flesh. He was…worshiping you. 

The idea sent waves of warmth flooding your core. “Yeah baby?” You took his hand, seeing a bandage over his knuckle and kissing it gently. 

The feeling of your lips to his skin made him whimper “please- please please please” he begged, sitting back on his feet and looking up at you through his bangs, pushing his hair back quickly before his hand found your calf once again, rubbing little strokes into it “please?” He asked softly, his big blue eyes blown wide with lust. 

You gently cup his cheek “and who’s fault is it?” You were teasing now. But you knew the bastard loved a challenge, and you also had been horny and your fingers were nothing compared to Carmys. 

“Mine. It’s mine. My stupid fuckin job angel I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry, how can I make it up? What can I do pretty? Mm? I’ll do whatever you want” he begged you and kissed over your knees and calves, pressing short little pecks to the skin. You grabbed his greasy curls at the root, raking through a few of the knots gently before pulling him to look at you and he moaned gently at the sudden firmness 

“Do you know I’ve been fingering myself to fall asleep. All alone - for all those days you said. My poor hand” you held it up and he brought it to his lips on instinct, kissing the pads of your fingers before opening his mouth expectantly. “Good Bear” you purr and his eyes flutter shut as you stuck in your middle and ring fingers, slipping them over his tongue. He moaned at the contact, not holding back. 

You smiled a bit, tugging his jaw open and he looks up at you, cheeks flushed and drool beginning to drip down his chin. “You’re pretty” you said softly and he swirls his tongue around your fingers before sucking on them gently, not breaking your gaze. Your stomach flips with excitement, your panties becoming uncomfortably wet but you weren’t going to let that show. He deserved to beg. 

“Do you deserve to be sucking on my fingers though?” You pull them away suddenly and he gasps a bit a the unexpected emptiness of his mouth, a pathetic little pout appearing on his lips. 

“No” he said softly and you grab his cheeks, smushing them gently “but I can make you feel soooo good - you deserve it” he told you and you pat his cheek gently with your hand, your wet fingers leaving a glistening streak on his cheek. 

“I know I do. Are you gonna eat me out? Like a good boy?” You laid back on your elbows, spreading your thigh and resting one of your feet on the edge of the bed, showing your panties that had grown a large wet spot during your conversation. He watches every move you make, his eyes focusing on the wet spot you sighed softly, deciding to take pity on him. “You can sniff my panties, you little freak” you giggle and he looked up at you like a kid on Christmas 

He wasted no time shoving his nose right in the wetness, inhaling your sweet yummy scent and groaning “thank you” he mumbled into the curve of your ass, his hot breath against the skin causing your clit to twitch and goosebumps to appear on your skin. You feel him taking another deep breath and nuzzling his nose back and forth to get deeper like a dog and you couldn’t help but giggle, raking through the knots in his curls as he stuck out his tongue and caught the fabric of your panties with his teeth, sucking the juices out of the fabric and moaning hotly. 

His hands were everywhere, rubbing over your calves, your thighs, your stomach, pushing your nightgown over your tits and rolling a peaked nipple between his fingers. You bit your lip, head falling back slightly and grinding your hips into his face, using his nose to get yourself off. “Go ahead Bear take off your jeans, you’ve been good t’night and I know you’re probably hurting” you told him 

He sighed into you gratefully “y’too nice t’me” he kissed over your clothed pussy a few times as he unbuckled his belt with shaking hands, the anticipation was killing him. 

“No me being nice would be telling you that you could touch yourself. And no dripping on my carpet” you told him as he pushed his boxers and jeans enough to let his cock free that was indeed dripping already. His boxers were creamy and wet with pre, he had been pathetically grinding against the boxspring as he sucked your panties like it was his life source. 

“Shit-“  he said, wrapping a fist around his weeping tip as he continued tonguing and nosing at the fabric between your legs. “Can I- c-can I please?” He begged pathetically, that softness to his voice you loved so much. A sweet whiney grunt leaves his lips as you pull his hair, forcing him to look at you. 

“What have we talked about? Use your words.” You said firmly. 

“Can I- take your panties off…p-please?” He asked shyly “wanna make y’feel good - wanna taste your pussy I miss it s’much - tastes so good baby please lemme taste you” he said and his whiney husky voice mixed with his breathlessness from being shoved into the fabric of your dripping cunt made you clench around nothing. 

“I wanna cum twice before you even think about touching yourself. Also take your shirt off you’re way overdressed for my taste.” You dropped his hair and he nods obediently, standing and shoving off his jeans and tugging his shirt off by the neck in that stupid jockish way that had you wanting to shove him down back first on the mattress and ride him until his balls were empty. 

Instead you kept your cool, crossing your arms over and slipping your nightgown over your head before taking off your panties, flicking them at him playfully to which he balled them up and pressed them to his nose, inhaling deeply. This caused you to laugh as you adjusted your pillow to lay back, spreading your thighs and gathering some of your wetness from your hole, dragging it up to your clit and rubbing little circles into it. 

“Mmm are you gonna keep sniffing those like a pervy-puppy or are you gonna come make good on your promise. I’m surprised this poor hand hasn’t fallen off” you teased and he dropped the panties where he was standing, coming and crawling on the bed, laying in front of you and hoisting your thighs over each of his shoulders 

“Mmm” he hummed, his eyes fluttering shut and leaning in, resting his cheek on your thigh and inhaling. “Smell so fuckin’ good” he mumbled “mouth is literally watering” he kissed your inner thighs sweetly, ravishing the skin in gentle affection. “God I missed this fuckin missed this s’much. Every morning this pretty fuckin pussy is just beggin me” he kissed your mound gently, dipping his tongue out and moaning at the taste of sweat and lotion on your skin, lapping it up like a life source. 

“Yeah? I think you’re the beggar” you mused, jaw falling slack as he licks a stripe up your heat, moaning pathetically at your taste. His eyes rolled back slightly before fluttering shut in pure bliss “mmm so pretty baby” you coo and he smiled slightly, his cheeks a blushy pink that matched the tops of his ears. He nuzzled into you, nose rubbing over your clit in the way that made you gasp, your toes curling lightly “good boy” you praised, voice breathy and light 

“Taste so good” he mumbled into your cunt, squeezing your thighs gently with his tattooed fingers. He moaned into you, watching you with wide lustful eyes. 

“Those pretty eyes” you said softly, gently brushing his warm cheekbone with your knuckle and he hums into you gently. He sucked your folds between his lips, pulling away slightly and rubbing your thighs up and down with his calloused palms, squeezing gently. You moaned hotly and couldn’t contain the cry that followed when he finally stuck his middle finger in your dripping hole, hips bucking to try and get more of him. 

“So soft, so so soft” he mumbled into your clit before kissing it gently and taking the now swollen throbbing bud in his mouth, flicking his tongue over it quickly. His fingers twist and curl as he pumps them in and out at a languid pace. You felt that familiar jolt of pleasure as the pad of his finger brushed your g spot. 

“Augh- ah- yes bear” you mewled, “right there- there” you grab his wrist and squeeze it and in response he curled his fingers the same way and you dug your feet into his shoulder blades in pure extacy, causing him to grunt into you and curl and uncurl his fingers in a rhythm that had your eyes screwing shut and loud strings of curses and moans tearing from your chest as you came undone over his fingers, dripping down his wrist already. But with how long it had been since you had him this way, that was to be expected. 

“Good - good bear good bear” you mumble praise as your orgasm washes over you he works you through it, resuming pumping his fingers - your dripping arousal being able to be put to use as lube. The schlick,schlick,schlick sound of his fingers is what you come back to, your mind fuzzy and swimming through a warm sea of pleasure, sweet jumbled moans and whimpers coming from your lips. 

“God you sound so fuckin’ pretty baby I love you so fuckin much m’so sorry m’so sorry I haven’t been around as much” he mumbled into you and you shake your head 

“S’okay shhh- shh just keep doin’ what you’re doin’” you push his head back down, watching as his eyes flutter up to look at you and he sweetly offers his other hand for you to hold, your heart melting at the gesture. “Such a sweet boy” you coo, taking his hand and lacing your fingers together. He smiled a bit in response nuzzling his nose against your clit, his lips making cute little smacking noises against your cunt. 

“You’re so messy” you giggle a bit, seeing as the tip and bridge of his nose were wet with your slick, as was his chin and entire mouth area. “Your face is so wet baby” you told him and he looked up at you 

“Mmm m’neck is wet too” he paused to say before resuming and you gently caress his cheek, the only sounds filling the room being the wet drill of his fingers and the smacking of his lips, like he was trying to devour a popsicle before it melted. 

You felt your second orgasm quickly approaching, your walls fluttering around his fingers, he curled up into that spot and that was your undoing once more, your hips pushing back into the mattress and spine arching off the bed towards the ceiling slightly as your orgasm crashed over you with no mercy to be had. 

“Jesus- fuck!” You cried out and he held your thighs open for you so you wouldn’t crush him by mistake, your hands shaking as you went to wipe the tears that had gathered in your eyes that were screwed shut from the intensity and Carmy stops you, carefully wiping your cheeks with his dry hand and removing his other carefully, wiping it dry on the sheets he always changed for you afterwards and cupping your face while you came down. 

“You did so good baby, so so good” he kissed your forehead gently, rubbing your hair and caressing your back with loving strokes. When you were finally coherent enough once again, although you were exhausted - you realized Carmy was still rock hard, pitching a full tent in his boxers that were wet with pre as he coaxed you through your orgasm. 

“That’s gotta hurt” you told pull the fabric, causing his cock to come down with it and when you release it it springs back up to full standing causing you to giggle a bit 

“Mm does but m’back. I can’t go t’night babe. I was gonna go take care of it in the shower don’worry” he yawned, rubbing over his face you furrowed your brow, slightly offended. 

“What? Is my pussy not good enough?” You teased 

He looked at you quickly “wha- no - I mean- I mean yes? No- no your pussy is good your pussy is- is perfect I fuckin’ love y’pussy but I can’t go tonight baby my back fuckin’ hurts” he explained 

“I can ride you you know” you said and his big blue eyes widened a bit. You’d been together for 6- no 7 months, and it was true you’d never ridden him, not yet anyway. 

Carmen was a missionary man, not in the boring way, in the way that he’d get home from work and fuck your brains out while going on and on about his frustrations from the day. 

People wouldn’t usually call it dirty talk, but something it turned you on more then anything that between calling you perfect and beautiful and made for him that he was just casually going on about his shitty day like his balls weren’t essentially spanking your ass with how hard he needed it. 

“Uh- oh-o-okay. Yeah. Sure- I. Mmhmm” he said and fixed his pillow, adjusting his hips for you “hop on I guess” he said shyly and you laughed at his sudden switch in attitude. 

“Have you never been ridden you poor thing?” You asked and his cheeks went cherry red as well as the tips of his ears and bridge of his nose as you straddled him easily, resting your hands on his abs for leverage. 

“No.” He muttered. “I- I just…I dunno it never..came up” he swallowed thickly, averting your gaze nervously. 

“Hey.” You said “eyes” you told him and his eyes met yours immediately, “I’m honored to be the first person, yeah? I’ve told you a billion times bear - I love you. I love being able to show you new ways to feel good, it makes me so excited” you held his hips gently and he wrapped his hands around your wrists, needing to be touching you somehow. 

“It just…it doesn’t make me seem like…like a bitch does it?” He mumbled shyly, insecurity lacing his voice. You tucked your hands under his warm back, laying yourself over him fully, embracing him and resting your forehead on his. 

“You know how I feel about that word, and no it doesn’t make you seem less manly baby. If anything, it’s super sexy and it’s so sweet that you felt brave enough to tell me. Thank you for telling me. I’ve heard for the guy it feels really good cause all you gotta do is lay there, you wanna try sweetheart?” You ask softly, kissing the bridge of his nose gently and a small smile forming on your lips when you tasted yourself on your lips upon pulling away. 

“Yes please” he said softly, eyes fluttered shut as you cover his face in little butterfly kisses. 

“That’s my brave bear” you place a kiss to the base of his throat and he smiles a bit, cheeks going redder by the second. It was adorable how shy he got when you showed him affection like this, you knew he adored it more then anything - but he’d never be brave enough to ask for it - at least not yet.  

You sit up, “can I touch you baby?” You confirm, rubbing your hands down his stomach and his abs tighten at the contact. In response he nods, swallowing thickly and goosebumps rising over his skin. His cock twitches as you grab the waistband of his boxers “so sweet and responsive” you said softly, tugging them down easily as he lifted his hips for you slightly. 

“Jesus” you mutter at the sight of it, the tip weeping and pink crying to be touched. “Poor thing, you’ve been neglected- has Carmy been abusing you in the shower huh?” You said in the direction of his cock with a playful voice of concern. 

“Jesus fuckin Christ-“ he chuckled, covering his face with his arm a big goofy smile on his face. “You are gonna kill me” 

You smiled big, leaning down and licking a stripe up his length and he whimpers softly, abs and stomach clenching at the contact, a large bead of pre gushing from his slit that you catch with your tongue. He shivers adorably, groaning at the feeling of you licking over his sensitive tip. “If y’keep fuckin doin’ that ‘m gonna cum” he breathes, the vein in his neck present seeing as he was holding himself back, his balls drawing up and releasing in a rhythm. 

“Jesus baby i dunno if you’ll last that long we’ll have to do this again so you can get the full experience mm?” You grab his shaft, lining you two up and slipping it through your soaked folds, he let out a breathy moan, back arching slightly and you let out a sweet ‘mmm’ when his tip bumps your clit. 

“Please please please can I be inside you please” he begged pathetically, voice whiny and shaking - he was going to be coming undone very soon you could tell, which is why he was desperate to be inside of you before he was too soft to do so. 

“I dunno can I see those pretty eyes?” You asked, he was still hiding behind his arm, likely still feeling embarrassed this was his first time but you weren’t going to allow that. He shyly removed his arm, looking up at you and swallowing nervously. 

“H-hey” he said softly and you smile softly 

“There’s my bear” you leaned in, kissing him lovingly as you sink down on him fully, his jaw goes slack so you settle for kissing his chin and cheeks and nose “Feel good?” You giggle into his skin and he lets out a pathetic little ‘uh-huh’ 

“H-holy oh god” he groaned when you simply roll your hips, getting yourself off with the friction of the curly patch of brunette curls at the base of his cock. You sat up, using his chest as leverage to find a good rhythm bouncing on him and he nearly growls, a sound you’d never heard him make. 

“Ooo am I releasing the bear?” You teased and he chuckled a bit 

“Shut up- fuck Jesus oh god” his head falls back on the pillow “i-i-shit” he rambled and you giggle a bit, causing him to whine at the feeling of your walls clenching around him as you continued to ride his cock with all the tricks you could remember. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever fucked you so quiet before” you tease, sure your hips and thighs were burning from how quick you’d built up to moving, but his eyes were practically rolling back and the whimpers you were drawing out of him were nothing short of heavenly. He was shaking for Christ sakes. “Are you gonna cum? Mm? Y’gonna fill me up baby?” You asked him, rubbing his chest gently 

He finally opened his eyes, looking up at you with those big blue eyes, blown out fully with lust, pants falling from his lips and his dirty blonde curls stuck to his forehead with sweat. “Mm-mmhmm” he moaned out, grabbing your hips to have something to hold and the action making him realize he could help you move. His jaw dropped slightly at the realization and he looked up at you for approval. 

You smiled and nod a bit “you can help honey- that’s really nice of you” you said and he helped push and pull you off his cock, he looked down, mesmerized by the view of his cock burying inside of you, he pushed you down with more force and you moaned, “just like that baby, you want it harder huh?” You ask and he nods quickly so you rolled your hips a bit harder. 

He bit his lip, nose scrunching up cutely. He was holding back. “Bear- I know it feels good but you can cum, you need to sleep” you cup his cheek gently and he looked up at you like a sad puppy 

“It feels s’good baby” he whined and you nod, stroking his cheek gently. 

“I know honey. We can do it again t’morrow night yeah?” You kiss his forehead and with that he releases into you with something resembling a cry covered with a grunt, of course he had to cover it. He pulled you into a deep messy kiss, wrapping his arms around your back, rubbing gently and reaching down to squeeze your ass, feeling cum dripping out of you down over his balls. He smiled a bit, pulling away to ask “Mmm can we sleep like this?”

[narcjsistx]

𝐑𝐔𝐍 𝐀𝐖𝐀𝐘 | OS

bachira meguru x fem reader ; words: 1.6k (1673)

coming from this event, seventh day, 24/12

✶ 𝐌𝐘 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ; take a look, trust me!

plot: running away from the cameras was the favorite thing you and meguru did every chance you got. your love was yours alone, why give the world just a small slice of everything you felt for each other? it would be a waste

Deciding to be together, so many years ago, had not been easy. You were both teenagers, you with your dream and he with his, and yet the red thread that tied your two fingers did not seem to want to break. Being together as an actual couple didn't seem like a feasible thing, even though you both wanted it

You liked Meguru Bachira from the very beginning. You began to understand that he would become your friend when, during recess in kindergarten, he was the only one interested in rocks like you. You began to understand that you cared about him when in elementary school he always showed you his collection of soccer balls, you who were his only friend. You began to understand that you loved him when, seeing him lose his childish features and take on those of a young boy, you wondered if he had suddenly become so handsome. You had seriously started to think that you loved him in a serious way and no longer as a simple crush when simply seeing him smile at you took your breath away

Bachira Meguru, on the other hand, understood that he loved you the moment you approached him, shy in your yellow apron

"What's your favorite rock?"

You had grown up together, seeing each other's changes. You were the only one her mother knew existed, the only one she considered a second daughter. There had been many afternoons in the past where he found you at his house, after finishing his training, chatting happily with Yuu as if it were nothing. His mother adored you, she loved you perhaps as much as her son loved you

Yuu knew his son, she knew that behind the tenderness with which he spoke to you there was a bigger feeling hidden, which he hid for the simple fear of distancing you from him. Yuu knew you too, and she knew that you loved his son back

Since you were a child, you dreamed of going to Spain, or more precisely living there. Since he was a child, Meguru dreamed of being able to play his soccer, the one he liked. You dreamed of going far away literally and he metaphorically

Neither of you would be with the other forever, that was the truth you didn't dare tell each other. Knowing this knowledge, neither of you would ever dare tell the other how you felt, or at least that's what you thought until the evening of the first day of the two-week vacation after the end of the U-20 match, when you found Bachira in front of your door professing his love for you

"I've realized a few things since I left, and the first is that it's no longer enough for me to just have the thought of loving you. You know I'm not the best with words, but you're the best at understanding me when I can't even... so I hope you can work your magic this time too and understand what I want to tell you"

Seeing him like this, so shy, was strange for you, who had been used to his chaotic side since you were children. But since he left there hadn't been a day in which you hadn't thought about him, how he was, how it was for him to know that he was chasing his dream. He had changed, and so had you, who had just accepted the request for an Erasmus in Spain for a year

But he didn't know that. And you didn't know that he was going to ask you to be his girlfriend

So yeah, deciding to be together all those years ago wasn't easy at all. You spent his two weeks off treating each other like a couple, even though you weren't actually one: you had walked under the moon, slept in each other's arms, you had even kissed a few times. But your flight left the day before he was due to return to the facility

"The flight is about to leave... I think I have to go"

"I know. Remember to be careful, in Spain they are different than us, more party-goers! But maybe you'll get used to it sooner than expected, knowing yourself"

"You're probably right. I'm going to Spain because I love their culture, you know"

"I know. But there's still something I don't know"

"What, Meguru?"

"Are we together or not?"

At the time, you had spent those two weeks wondering the same thing, wondering if he was actually yours and you were his. You thought about it because, even though you never said it out loud, you loved Meguru, you loved him so much. But the result was always the same: 'no, we are not together, you will continue your life here and for a year I will no longer be a part of your life, and maybe the year will become five and then ten'

But that wasn't what you told him

"Do you really want to be in a long distance relationship? I mean, you don't normally have much of a chance to talk to outsiders when you're in Blue Lock, and I won't be here when you have days off again. We'll never have time for each other, Meguru

"I didn't ask you that. Are we together or not?"

The question was simple, a yes or a no was enough. Yet, you didn't know which side to fall on

"It will be difficult, it will be for both of us"

"I know. But I'll live better if I know that you're my girl, Y/n-Chan!"

"Do you really want it that bad...?"

"Something like that. More or less since our first meeting, fifteen years ago"

Meguru was genuine, the best choice you could have made in all your lives. You knew he would never wrong you, hurt you, or get you angry

"We are together"

And so, from that moment on, you had done nothing but love each other with all the methods you could: messages and video calls when he could, letters sent to your new address and so much, so much love that you felt even without hearing from him for more than a few days. Spain was a beautiful sunny place, perfect for you and your character, but above all also for Bachira, who to your surprise had taken part in the Barcha club in Japan. While you were studying and living your dream, he was chasing a ball and living his dream; but you both lived with the knowledge of having each other, and it was so perfect for you

You hadn't seen each other for almost a year when Bachira told you that he would come to Spain to play his first match outside of Japan, and he would come to Barcelona, your city. So, after a year apart, you finally had the chance to hug and kiss your boyfriend again before the start of his match, with the entire stadium watching you. Some fans had recognized you as the same girl who ran to him to hug him at the end of the match against the U-20s, while others were now recognizing you as the alleged girlfriend of Lavinho's favourite, the girl the team captain held so tightly in his arms

The match ended with a victory for Barcha and a year long contact for your boyfriend. While you would return to Japan in a few months, he would remain in your new city. But this did not stop you from living in symbiosis for the remaining time, recovering all the contact that you had not been able to exchange from far away. You were finally with Bachira and you no longer had to just fantasize about being able to kiss him

"I don't even want to think about when you have to go back to Japan, it's like we're making a trade! I always want to be able to hold you in my arms, and yet you seem like you want to run away from me again"

"You know I don't like it either, but I can't stay here, I risk jail!"

"In prison for staying with your boyfriend? It doesn't sound so bad, Y/n-Chan!"

Yet, you had returned to Japan, leaving him far away from you again, this time with a slight increase in the possibility of texting you both than before. Everything was back to the beginning, and it was strange to think that until two years ago you had spent your whole life together, seeing each other every day but without kissing. But it all didn't last long: another Erasmus gave you the chance to go back to him, to Bachira, to your boyfriend. And so, everything went back to the beginning again, for your and his happiness

From that moment on, you had done nothing but run, run, and run again, always as far away from the cameras as possible; now that you finally had the chance to be together, why give others a show that was only for the two of you?. Meguru had become, however, in a short time, a star of the new generation of soccer, and consequently his fame had increased to the point that the cameras would do anything to have him theirs. And to know that Bachira, the striker of Barcha, was again with the girl he had kissed that day, his supposed girlfriend? This was even better, this made the cameras need you

The cameras wanted you, but you wanted more the kisses from your boyfriend, the ones he gave you while you ran hand in hand through the alleys of Barcelona, while you ran away from yet another newspaper that wanted to take a picture of you

You were together, you were actually a couple for more than two years. You hated the cameras and everything that included them, even Bachira thought the same thing. The cameras, if they had to be there, you would have wanted them only on the day you became Mrs. Bachira

TAG: @natmagaesp ; @kittenish0 ; @x3nafix ; @sirhamburrger

[isagrimorie]

It’s always frustrating whenever the BAU tackles a case where either the victimology or UnSub has similarities to Prentiss’s background/upbringing but the writers rarely use it to give insights on Prentiss or have Prentiss’s background provide some insights into a case.

As an example, The Performer is an episode featuring Gavin Rossdale as a rockstar whose kayfabe was being a Vampire ala Lestat but fake.

The show could have dove a little into the goth community, a community Emily Prentiss used to be a part of. Did they do that? Unfortunately, no, they hung a lantern on it. The writers had Penelope tease Emily about how she used to dress Goth. Even though, Emily still dressed like one but corporate style.

In the episode, Pleasure is My Business. The UnSub grew up around wealth and privilege and then used sex work to lure her victims.

We discover in Lauren that Prentiss was in a similar enough situation re: Operation Valhalla.

Ala The Americans show, Prentiss used intimacy to get close to Ian Doyle.

Emily Prentiss became Lauren Reynolds because she matched Doyle’s type.

I know the writers had a vague idea of Prentiss’ past only that the writers had breadcrumbs pointing to a rich, mysterious past. They don’t have a crystal ball, but the privileged background could have been a jumping off point for a discussion, an insight to the UnSub’s thoughts.

In the season 16 episode, Orpheus Wrecks, the writers could have again used that case as a way to get more insight into Prentiss’ hidden personal life. As a Politician’s kid, and a somewhat savvy political operator herself, Prentiss would have been as familiar, if more, to the DC wonk space as Bailey was.

Prentiss would also be familiar with the Beltway Elite app even if she didn’t use it herself.

(As a former Spook, the idea of having an app like that in her phone would give Prentiss OpSec paranoia. She would not want her photo distributed everywhere. Being on Politico was enough of a headache for her tbh).

I know Prentiss’ whole thing is she wanted to distance herself from her mother’s political life but she would still have friends and would have known more people as she climbed up the ladder in the FBI.

Other shows like Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Elementary, and Person of Interest almost always use a kernel of similarity/parallelism in their various cases of the week as a jumping-off point to tell a richer story about their characters.

Criminal Minds does but selectively.

This is what makes the show frustrating. You can always tell when the show could have threaded the Case/Monster of the Week and connected the case to one of the characters.

Morgan and JJ also needed more exploration. The only one the writers they consistently use this with is Reid.

To the writer’s credit they have vaguely gestured at Emily’s mysterious past— setting up Emily’s existential crisis about her morality in the face of what she’s done while she worked for CIA and JTF-12.

But then the show goes several episodes mentioning the problem, an arc villain, and it’s frustrating!

(I sometimes lowkey wish some Whedon trained writers joined Criminal Minds to establish a good character-to-case ratio. Like, Jane Espenson. Or someone from Person of Interest writers room joining the Evolution writers team. The idea of Denise Thé writing for the CM ladies makes me yearn because delicious character development + inventive messed up twists. Erica Messer does a good job showrunning— a different job altogether than just writing for the show. But also— I yearn! Think about a POI caliber writer in a CM writers room! It would be so good to have, IMO. Not that PoI was entirely perfect either, I have my frustrations too!)

——

Chris Mundy seemed interested in delving into the internal lives of the characters, especially Emily’s. Demonology was really important for our understanding of Emily Prentiss.

Her guilt, her low-key self-loathing— the way she runs from the people she loves because she thinks she’s not worth it. The way she can conform to be anyone to fit into a situation and not stand out.

Her casual regard for sex as a tool to help her get accepted. All things that were helpful for Prentiss when she became a spy.

As Michael Westen from Burn Notice said: “People with happy families don’t become spies. A bad childhood is the perfect background for covert ops.”

TLDR— It’s just frustrating because they’re always nearly at the cusp of a great character driven procedural but then almost always back off from giving us really good food.

[yellowraincoat]

Got to that part of the book where Kai says he commed Cinder 6 times and she ignored him. So anyway, here’s what I think that text thread looked like.

Monday 1:00am

K: so any changes on the ball front?

Tuesday 3:00am

K: it would really be a lot more fun if you were there

Tuesday 1:30pm

K: Levana tried to kill a servant with a knife during lunch today so thats how my day’s going

Wednesday 8:00am

K: hey want to hang out today?

Wednesday 12:15pm

K: Cinder?

Thursday 11:00am

K: I don’t mean to sound like a broken record about the ball, but I really like you, and I think it would be a lot of fun. I’ll stop asking now, but please let me know if you have a change of heart!

[reader, he then turned up at her place of work with a pick up line about how his phone must be broken bc she hasn’t called and expensive gloves for the ball she hasn’t agreed to go to.]

​couple goals: stalk her. kidnap him. unseat and reinstate a monarchy together. engaged by 20

[jusmango-shake]

Erm, I see requests are open ehehe :)

2012 Raph x reader who is a generally pretty calm person, but one day is involved in a fight with them and just goes absolutely apeshit crazy? Like his reaction or whatever. I don’t care how you interpret it. I just wanna see. :)

🥭: yES HELLO!! Congrats on uh being my first requester ion kno what it's called h, feel free to pick an emoji so yknow. You could be those emoji anons cuz, I think that'd be pretty cool

I hope you enjoy it though!!1!1 (love the 2012 turtles)

12!Raph x calm!Reader

Fictype: Normal

Mood: fluff

WARNING: reader scolds Raph for being reckless, one instance of Raph being called a good boy, cussing, Injuries/Blood, stitching/needles

🥭:I'm sorry for it being so short!.

Raph always liked the fact you were so cool. no matter the situation, you always made it seem as if it was just like any other day. He admired that about you, it rivaled his own hot-headedness in a way only you could.

But now as he sat on the toilet, all bloody and bruised up. He wondered where that side of you went.

He understood where you were coming from but it's like his ego prevented him from accepting it, any time he tried speaking up was immediately shot down.

He faked an annoyed sigh as he looked in the opposite direction, trying to ignore the stinging pain on his right bicep.

He nearly shivered at the heavy sigh you let out, the hot air tickling his skin.

“Raphael.” you spoke sternly, the mere tone of your voice enough to have Raphs heart pounding inside his chest.

He coughed, trying his best to keep up the bravado.

"Yeah.?" He felt your eyes bore into the back of his head, wincing at the slight pain of the needle penetrating his skin.

“look at me.” you ordered.

He gulped before shakily turning to look at you. not because he was scared, hell no! It's obviously because of the large gash you were currently stitching up. Yeah, definitely.

“What the fuck were you thinking? Did you seriously think you wouldn't get hurt? God, Raph. Sometimes I swear your ego makes you fucking stupid.” You stared daggers into Raph's eyes before continuing to stitch the gash.

He flinched once more, "But i-"

You turned your head sharply, glaring at Raph with the usual twinkle and calmness from your eyes completely gone. His breath hitched, it wasn't like you to be so...

“no 'Buts' Raph, what you did was fucking idiotic. if it weren't for Leo, I'd have to fix up more of your wounds. All that just to impress me?” you turned back to focus on finishing the stitch, the thread was severed with a quiet 'snip'

Raph's eyes widened at the last sentence, you couldn't have possibly known right? He never told anyone, he even tried his best to hide it.

"What?" Was all he could manage, staring at you with wide eyes. He followed you even as you knelt down to get the bandages from the cabinet under the sink.

“dont play games with me Raph, I see the way you act around me. The shit you pull off was practically upped tenfold, even your brothers could see that.” a faint blush making its way onto your cheeks, to which you promptly hid by applying alcohol on the cotton balls.

Raph's heart sank. if you knew all along, why didn't you say anything? Did you not like him back?

As he stared at the floor in thought, he only slightly registered the fact you were once again kneeling Infront of him. He hissed at the stinging pain of alcohol on the other cuts, you reacted by simply glancing at him.

You sighed, putting the used cotton balls in the trash, standing up. You cupped both of his cheeks, gently having him look at you. Your gaze still tense and sturdy, but a hint of empathy comforting Raph just a little.

Raph stared up at you, shock and guilt written all over his face.

“you worried me half to death, Raph.”

He felt himself shrinking under your stern gaze. Looking off to the side in an attempt to hide his embarrassment.

You took the bandages and wrapped them tightly around his arm, just tight enough to keep the wound closed.

“Raph?”

"Yeah..?"

You kissed the top of his head.

“next time, don't be such a dumb fuck. Be a good boy and stay safe for me.”

Raph sat there with wide eyes and rosy cheeks, barely registering the fact you had already left the bathroom. His fingers grazed over the spot you kissed him at, his heartbeat getting more and more prominent in his chest. But this time, it was accompanied with butterflies in his stomach.

Maybe he did have a chance.

[wumblr]

i could write a whole book on this screenshot... on a balmy thursday, july 12, 1979, a sports arena called cornskey park, in chicago, would host one of the only disc jockeys to enter the historical record, who, after an explosion, would later spend the rest of his life apologizing for not having interrogated why disco music annoyed him so much. meanwhile, almost adjacent in space and time, a recent graduate of the art institute of chicago moved to new york to try to imitate andy warhol's imitation of henry ford's production line, having almost hit upon the thing for which he would become known. simultaneously, a real factory worker at an actual factory in kentucky had no idea she was destined to become the last craftsman in her field: manufacturing disco mirror balls. you can find the remnants of these threads at any strip mall in the midwest, tracing the implausible currents of a butterfly effect back in time to where it started. at the turntable. on the dancefloor. practically bounding off the overloaded shelves at the discount stores of whatever middle america is to crash onto the beige tiled floor below, they ask, they practically beg: do you have a cool stuff to put on shelves statue party table decoration fun paperweight holiday gift for the disc jockey in your life?

[eddiesghxst]

PRICE OF FAME (PART 3/12)

ALRIGHTY HERE WE GO !!

————

18+ — MINORS DNI

pairing: rockstar!eddie x journalist!reader

summary: eddie and gareth don't get along and eddie thinks you look cute when you're sleeping

contains: enemies to lovers trope, smoking, alcohol use, maybe gareth's a bitch lol, scary feelings, a sprinkle of fluff, and eddie being down bad in every way, shape, and form <3

word count: 5.3k

| previous part | next part |

| series masterlist | -main masterlist- |

Breakfast has been your favorite part of joining Corroded Coffin on tour. Aside from the fluffy, soft, sweet pancakes, grease-dripping bacon, and toe-curling orgasmic coffee, breakfast has always been lighthearted and fun. Richie makes everybody sit at the table together like a family so there can be some sense of normalcy throughout the busy days; it’s nice.

You alternate with your seating, wanting to get to know all of the crew members as best as you can while you have the time, and you’ve had decent conversations amongst some awkward ones. On the first day, you sat next to Mitch, the light coordinator, and listened to his story about how he met his husband. They’re expecting a baby this fall, and you two bounced a few names off each other for him to consider. On the second day, you sat beside Kaylee, the tour stylist, and talked about your college horror stories. On the third day, you sat next to Brandon, a stage manager, and spoke about… well, you don’t really remember because he talked the entire time, and you kind of blanked out. Slowly, you’ve made your way around the table each day, learning little things about the group.

Today, however, there is not the usual lighthearted and familial atmosphere at the table.

You came down to the breakfast hall a bit late from your shower, and the second you stepped into the room, you could sense the tension still hanging from yesterday. You haven’t spoken to or seen Eddie since he confronted Gareth at the studio, and you’re not sure if he’d even want to see you, but you have no choice but to take the only open seat next to him.

You quietly say good morning to everyone, and Richie is the only one who gives you a warm response. “How’d you sleep, birdie?” He questions around a mouthful of eggs. You nod and settle in, “Good, I almost slept through my alarm.” You jokingly admit. Richie chuckles, “1500 thread count sheets will do that to you.” He says, causing the table to erupt in a soft symphony of laughter.

It falls awkwardly silent, and you try your best to avoid glancing at Gareth, but there’s no doubt everybody notices the shiner he’s sporting on his eye. The room is filled with sounds of forks clanking against plates and the quiet mumble of short, faint snippets of conversation until Richie clears his throat, “We’ve got an interview with the press at twelve and rehearsals at three, like always, so do what you need to do before then. We can’t be late for this interview, got it?” He reminds the crew, and everybody’s head nods in understanding, all but one.

“I’m not going.”

All eyes turn to Gareth, a full plate sitting untouched before him as he slumps back in his seat. Beside you, Eddie lights a cigarette, and you opt to busy yourself with taking a bite of your French toast, practically feeling the anger radiating from Eddie as he takes a drag. Richie clears his throat once again, scooting closer to the table and tilting his head with a look of confusion, “Um… why not?” He questions.

Gareth glances at him as best as he can with his black eye, “Because I’ve got an eye the size of a tennis ball on my face, Richie.” Everyone at the table seems to uncomfortably shift now that the elephant in the room has been addressed. Eddie doesn’t waste a second to speak up from beside you, “Nothing you didn’t deserve.” For the first time since yesterday, Eddie looks at Gareth and sees the swollen eye he left from yesterday. Eddie doesn’t show a single hint of regret.

The table returns to quietly eating as Gareth ignores Eddie’s comment, “I’m not going.” He reiterates. Richie sighs and rubs the coarse mustache on his face, “You have to go, Gareth. Just put some shades on.” He suggests, returning to his food as if the conversation finished, but Gareth holds up. “I’m not gonna sit there in shades like a fucking idiot, man.”

“Well, you don’t have a choice, son,” Richie snaps, dropping the fork in his plate to look at Gareth. You wish the floor would open up and swallow you whole, and you’re sure you’re not the only person with that wish when you look at the other crew members at the table. “This band has an album coming soon,” he reminds the group, “We don’t have time for rumors and gossip to start circulating; you need to show up as a unit. This isn’t up for debate.”

The conversation could’ve ended there because, quite frankly, it seemed like Gareth was willing to go with it, but Eddie couldn’t let the moment to say something slip, “Just let him go, Rich.” He shrugs. You glance at Eddie, watching as he taps his cigarette ash into his plate, “It’s not like he brings much to the table anyway.”

Across the table, from the corner of your eye, you see Gareth lean forward to glare at Eddie, “The fuck does that mean?” He snaps.

Eddie looks at Gareth for the second time and shrugs, “Means you’re a shit band member, man. Fuckin’ Mitch has done more for this band than you ever have or could’ve done.” He gestures towards Mitch, ignoring when the man slightly cowers in his seat. Gareth looks at Eddie with a stone-cold glare, saying nothing momentarily and letting the thick blanket of silence curl around everyone's neck. He leans forward and points a finger at Eddie, who’s not even looking at him anymore, “Fuck you. You wonder why Chrissy left you for Jason Carver, it’s because you’re a fucking asshole.”

“Jesus Christ, guys–” Jeff tries to interject, but Gareth continues speaking, “At least Jason acknowledges her. That’s more than you ever did.” He jabs. Eddie chuckles, shaking his head before speaking around a cloud of smoke, “You don’t know shit about me and Chrissy.”

Gareth tauntingly laughs, “Nah, she filled me in quite a fuckin’ bit.”

The invisible ticking time bomb seems to have gone off in Eddie’s mind. He stands up from his chair, a loud screeching noise grating everyone's ears as he flicks his cigarette into his plate, “The fuck did you just say?”

“Hey, hey, hey!” Richie interjects, standing up and raising his hands as a gesture to stop. “Enough. Fucking enough,” he glances between the two heated men in annoyance, “I don’t know what’s gotten into you boys, but you need to figure your shit out on your own time.” He snaps. Your hands rest in your lap, anxiously picking at the seam of your jeans, wanting to shrink into your seat because you can’t help but feel as if this is your fault. It was your journal he read anyway; you play some part in the issue, right?

Richie sits back down with an exhaustive huff, picking up his fork to resume eating, but before he picks up a piece of his food, he gestures at the table, “Either sit down and finish your goddamn meal, or fuck off somewhere. Both of you.”

Eddie stands for a moment before deciding to leave without another word.

By the time the press interview rolls around, you’re more anxious than you thought you’d be. Between the time frame of breakfast and now, you had more than enough time to ponder over the messy situation you’ve accidentally created between Gareth and Eddie.

Truthfully, you had no idea that the Chrissy Gareth had mentioned during your conversation was Eddie’s ex-girlfriend Chrissy; hell, you didn’t even know Eddie had an ex-girlfriend named Chrissy until yesterday!

On one of your few sit-downs with Gareth, you ended up discussing his love life, and you took the leap of faith to ask him if he’d ever been in love.

“…There was one girl. Her name was Chrissy; we went to high school together.” 

“You dated?” “No,” Gareth shakes his head, “No, we never dated. But I always had this weird connection with her… like we understood each other in a deeper way.”

You smile in awe of the sweetness behind his words, jotting down little notes in your journal as he speaks. “I always admired her to an extent, but she, uh,” he clears his throat and scratches at his jaw, “she was in another relationship for most of the time I knew her.”

Gareth silently watches as you continue to write. You look up at him when you realize he’s been silent for a while, and you open your mouth to ask what is wrong, but he speaks before you, “Is this um,” he gestures towards your journal, “this bit isn’t going in the final publish, right?” He asks. You tilt your head, a few questions running through your mind, but you brush them off, “Um… well, I suppose I can leave some of it out, yes.”

Gareth nods, shifting in his chair and clearing his throat. “Okay, good. Um… well, anyways,” he begins, “Me and Chrissy didn’t hook up until I went back to Hawkins during our break off from last year's tour.” 

Ultimately, Gareth had explained that Chrissy had recently left a three-year relationship when they’d hooked up. He explained that they crossed paths at a bar, and things took off from there, but he cut it off with her the following morning. He never told you why he cut it off, but you now understand the guilt of betraying his best friend had forced him to do so.

You had no idea that the entire conversation was pertaining to Eddie’s ex; if you had known, you would’ve never written it down. You wouldn’t have even finished the conversation if Gareth had told the whole truth because, quite honestly, you would rather not be in the mix of this disaster. 

You’re disappointed. Upset that Gareth practically used you to get the guilt off his chest. And the truth is, that conversation did little to nothing for Gareth in the long run; he still felt guilty for never telling Eddie, and it’s only gotten worse with the added tension between them now that the secret is out.

Eddie was cold toward you before, but now he’s thicker than the ice in Antarctica. He’s avoiding you at all costs— and maybe he’s just avoiding everybody. Still, you can’t help but take his avoidance personally, especially when you’d thought you were finally reaching some sort of middle ground with him.

You sit off to the side of the stage with the rest of the band’s crew as you watch them take their seats for the press interview. Eddie sits on one end of the table while Gareth sits at the other end, the other two members filling the two seats in between. Gareth had no choice but to cover his black eye with a dark shade of glasses, and it seemed like nobody paid mind to it— typical rockstar wardrobe and all.

The interview was off to a good start, with reporters asking questions about the upcoming album, life on the road, and relatively anything about the music. Near the end, however, is when things seemed to get rocky. The questions became more of a filler than anything important, and boys were evidently tired of answering. It wasn’t until a journalist asked a specific question that things seemed to reach a tipping point.

“There’s been rumors that this album has more love songs than usual. Could you confirm or deny that?” 

The boys look at each other, and Gareth leans forward to respond, but Eddie beats him to it. “There were a few, yeah, but um… They didn’t make the final cut, so maybe next time.” 

The energy vividly shifts amongst the boys; Gareth looks at Eddie and scoffs before leaning back into his chair, clearly throwing in the towel for the rest of the interview. You don’t understand the apparent dispute just now, but you find out when the boys finish the interview and walk into the green room.

“What the fuck, man?” Gareth spits, walking a few paces behind Eddie. “We’re not cutting the song.” His loud voice booms through the room, not caring if anybody will overhear their dispute. 

“I’m not putting a song out that you wrote about my fucking ex-girlfriend, Gareth. Are you out of your fucking mind?” Eddie snaps. 

Richie turns to the band and crew members and motions for them to leave the room, which nobody even bothers to protest, eager to escape any more awkward conversations for the day. Everybody else makes a beeline for the tour bus, planning to fill in the few hours before rehearsal.

You glance back at the room where Eddie and Gareth are bickering, and you bravely choose to sit in the chair outside the doorway. You try not to stick your nose in their business, but they’re arguing loud enough for you to hear snippets either way. The conversation doesn’t last long before Gareth storms out of the room and down the hall, bursting through the doors and out of sight.

You glance back into the room where Eddie stands, fishing out his pack of cigarettes and sparking up. You figure now is better than ever, so you clench your bag strap and stand up, hesitantly stepping into the room. Clearing your throat once you’re a few steps away from Eddie, you watch as he exhales a cloud of smoke. He glances at you and turns away, “What do you want?”

You take one step closer, “I um… I wanted to apologize.” You begin. He looks at you again, brown eyes tired and riddled with pain— and you can’t imagine how much of a whirlwind the past twenty-four hours have been for him. “For what?” He asks, confusion and annoyance laced within his tone.

He’s turned to face you, shiny chains glistening on his hips beneath the building lights. You shake your head, struggling to find the words, because, was this really even your fault?

You obviously can’t apologize for Gareth fucking his ex-girlfriend— you had no part in that— and it’d seem silly to apologize for accidentally dropping your journal. So, what exactly do you apologize for? How do you let him know that you’re sorry this was how he found out, even if it isn’t entirely your fault?

You decide to try and redirect your wording, “I want you to know that I was never going to put that in the final article.” You say.

Eddie scoffs, taking a drag of his cigarette before responding, “And why would I believe that?” He questions. 

He’s gazing at you like the first night you’d met when he was watching you from across the green room and commanding you to leave. You think he has the same intentions now, but Eddie has yet to learn that you’re stubborn.

“Well, for starters, Gareth asked me not to put it in,” you admit. Eddie’s jaw tenses and part of you feels as if you’ve tossed Gareth under the bus, but you had no choice. This was Gareth’s doing, and if you have to tell the ugly truth to save your image, then so be it. “He didn’t tell me why, but I know now. And now that I know the full truth behind that story, I definitely won’t write it in.”

Eddie watches you momentarily, intense eyes burning holes through you before he turns away. He scratches his jaw for a moment, taking a breath before returning to you. Eddie points to you, the burning cigarette hanging between his fingers as he speaks, “You know,” he begins, “somehow, you’ve managed to persuade everyone that you’re some sweet, innocent small-town journalist that just wants to ‘appreciate the artists,’ but that,” he gestures to your bag where he knows your journal is resting, ashes fluttering to the ground with each wave of his hand.

“That proved everything I believed about you.” He says. “People like you are fucking vampires. You suck the life out of people to keep you alive, and it’s fucked up.” He snaps. 

Your face twists in anger, subtly shaking your head as you subconsciously step closer, “Eddie, I didn’t… I didn’t even know she was your ex, and if I did, I would’ve never written about it.” You exclaim, tossing your hands in exasperation. “And I’m sorry you found out the way you did, but you can’t hate me for something someone else did!”

Eddie frustratedly rubs his face, “That’s not the point!” He exclaims. “I read your journal. I saw everything I needed to see to confirm that I was right about everything with you and this fucking article.” He stresses, his loud voice echoing throughout the empty room.

“I'm not here to destroy your life, Eddie!” You snap, voice raising to match the level of his own. Eddie steps closer, towering over you and glaring so intensely into your eyes that you almost cower, “I don’t fucking believe that for a second.” He snaps back.

His chest rises and sinks like a rocky boat beneath his angry breaths, and he’s so close you can smell the cigarettes and mint on his breath. The scent of his cologne wrapping around you and choking you like a snake.

You don’t know how much more patient you can be with Eddie. You don’t know how much more of this back-and-forth you can take before it drives you insane. You want it to end. You want him to understand that you’re not his enemy; you never were.

You can only think of doing one thing: unzipping your bag and reaching in to grab your journal. Eddie watches with a hint of confusion in his eyes as you crack open the journal and start flipping through the pages. “What are you doing?” He asks in annoyance, patience running thin at your silence.

You flip through nearly half of the book before finding the pages you sought. You don’t think twice before ripping them out, not even caring if it destroys the binds of your precious journal. “The fuck are you doing?” Eddie asks again.

You tear each page out and drop the book to the floor, ignoring Eddie’s questions as you shred each torn-out page to pieces. Eddie watches in silent and hidden shock as each pen-soaked strip flutters to the ground, creating a heap of trash between where you both stand.

You tear the last piece and let it fall before looking at Eddie, watching as he gazes at the torn pages. Nearly five pages worth of writing, gone.

“There. It’s gone. Do you believe me now?” 

Eddie says nothing when he drags his gaze up to look at you, shock-ridden across his face. “I’m not who you say I am, Eddie. I’m not here to ruin your life; that was never my intention.”

Eddie stays silent, seemingly lost for words, and even if you want him to say something, your braveness has begun to falter, and you itch to leave the room. You’re strong-willed, but you’re no fucking superwoman, and Eddie has pulled every exhausting breath out of you, and you can’t seem to get a grip because every time you breathe in, all you smell and feel is Eddie.

Eddie, Eddie, Eddie.

You grab your destroyed journal from the floor, not bothering to try and fix the binding before you shove it back into your bag, and you don’t say another word as you leave the room.

You’ve been writing for hours when you check the clock— twelve thirty-two. The band played a show tonight, but you decided to stay in your hotel to let your ankle rest— you haven’t been taking all the precautions the medic advised you to, so by the time lunch rolled around, you were in an uncomfortable fit of pain. You used your free time by tweaking the draft of your article— adding in new pieces of information and taking out unnecessary notes. You’re about twenty pages in, but by the end of the month, you’ll have compiled it all into ten; but for now, it seems your brain has become a muddled mess of words and ideas. 

You suppose drinking three glasses of wine didn’t help fix that, either. You’re tipsy, teetering on the edge of drunk, and that’s a dangerous place to be when you’re practically working. You don’t even want to think of the past drunken works you’ve made; they’re worse than you’d like to admit.

You sigh, dropping your pen onto the hotel desk, leaning back in your chair, and rubbing your hand down your face in exhaustion. You glance over to the chair you’ve propped up to rest your injured leg, deciding that you should probably ice it since you’ve neglected to do so all day.

You figure you’re done writing for the day anyway, so you put your things in order before grabbing the ice bucket and making your way out of the room to find the ice machine. 

What you don’t expect to find on your journey is a sleepy Eddie sitting in the hallway just a few doors down from yours. Maybe you drank four glasses of wine.

Out of common, drunk courtesy, you redirect your path and limp over to where he sits, arms folded across his chest and head leaned back against the wall with shut eyes.

You gently say his name to grab his attention, but he doesn’t budge. You shuffle closer, calling his name out again, and when that doesn’t work, you gently nudge him with your non-injured foot. His eyes flutter open, blinking away the light sleep from his eyes as he looks at you.

You tilt your head in question and ask, “What are you doing sleeping in the hallway?” 

Eddie shifts in his spot, grunting and glancing at the bucket in your hands. From the looks of it, Eddie is as sober as can be, so you guess he decided to skip out on the after-show festivities they usually partake in. “I um… I lost the key card to my room.” He explains, gesturing to the door across from where he’s seated.

“The band is out for the night, and the lobby’s closed, so…” 

You nod in understanding, glancing around the empty hallway, catching sight of a cleaning lady entering a room down the corridor. And technically, you don’t owe Eddie anything.

You could leave him here in the hallway to spend the night sleeping on the hard ground, and it probably wouldn’t bother him either way because Eddie clearly doesn’t like you, but fuck you feel bad.

You’re not a terrible person. You wouldn’t kick somebody when they’re already down, and Eddie… Eddie is clearly down.

Before you can thoroughly think it over, your liquor-weighted mouth speaks before you can stop yourself, “You could crash in my room for the night.”

Eddie looks at you with the blankest expression he could ever muster and blinks, “Why would I do that?”

God, he’s such a fucking asshole.

You shrug, gently swinging the bucket in your hand and glancing around again, “I don’t know, unless you'd like to sit here all night like a moron, then be my guest.”

Your ankle hurts as you stand and wait for Eddie to make up his mind, and just when you almost decide to throw in the towel and let him fend for himself, Eddie grumbles a short “Fine,” and gets up.

You watch as he reaches down to grab his leather jacket and turns to you, “You can go ahead; I have to get ice for my foot.” You tell him, pointing to your door so he knows where to go.

Eddie glances down at your injured leg and says nothing before he reaches forward and gently takes the bucket from your hands— cold, jewelry-covered fingers brushing up against your warm knuckles and sending shivers up your spine.

He hands you his jacket, and you stand silently, confused by the exchange. Before you can ask what he’s doing, he answers your question, “I’ll get the ice.” And he doesn’t even bother looking at you before turning around and leaving to find the ice machine.

You’re too drunk to figure out what that was about, and your ankle is starting to throb under the pressure of standing, so you walk back to your room clutching his jacket and trying your hardest not to let the familiar scent of Eddie knock you dead.

You leave the door slightly propped open for Eddie and place his jacket on the chair near the desk. In the meantime, you busy yourself with removing your suitcase and clothes you’d haphazardly tossed around from the extra bed where Eddie will be sleeping. You figure you’ll just head to bed once Eddie gets here, so you exchange your jeans and fitted top for shorts and a ratty old He-Man shirt from high school.

You’re setting your previous clothes aside when Eddie steps into the room, a bucket full of ice in one hand with a Coke and chips in the other. You raise an eyebrow, questioning the extra items, and he shrugs as he shuts the door with his foot, “What? The vending machine was right next to the ice, and I was hungry.” He explains as he places the bucket on the desk, making sure to avoid placing it on your work pages. He tries his best not to look at what you’ve written, and you don’t point it out when he clears his throat and diverts his attention to something else. He grabs the wine bottle and shakes it, raising an eyebrow when he realizes it’s less than halfway full, “I take it someone had a good time?”

You roll your eyes, walking over to take the bottle and put it back on the desk. “Not that it’s any of your business.” You respond, turning to grab a ziplock to fill with ice. Eddie takes the bag from you and shoos you away, “Go sit down, I’ll do it.”

Your face twists in confusion, “You’re starting to scare me. Are you gonna kill me?”

Eddie laughs and busies himself with scooping large chunks of ice and dropping them into the open ziplock. “I will if you don’t sit down.” He responds.

You relent and walk over to your bed, sitting at the head of the mattress to lean against the pillows near the headboard, doing your best to shove a pillow beneath your foot lazily. You sit silently, hands folded against your stomach, watching Eddie work.

He’s wearing his usual black jeans, decorated with hanging chains from his waist, and a plain white shirt, hidden muscles flexing beneath the soft cotton. His shoulders are broad yet hidden beneath the thick, curly mane of hair he has. Tattoos litter his arms, a few trickling down to his fingers, and you catch glimpses of his knuckles dripping with drops of water from the ice and— fuck.

There’s no way you’re checking out Eddie Munson, the asshole who’s made your life a living hell these past few weeks. You really can’t handle your liquor.

You panic and grab the TV remote, quickly turning it on to fill the silence. You distract yourself by watching the random sitcom playing until Eddie steps into your view. You must’ve been focused on the show because Eddie seems to have traveled to the restroom to get a towel to wrap around your makeshift ice pack. Your sheets are pulled back, leaving your bare legs on display, and you can’t help but squirm when Eddie stands at the foot of the bed and takes in the sight of you.

He says nothing as he gently lowers the ice onto your ankle. His inked fingers sink into the plush cotton of the towel, and if Eddie weren’t an artist, you bet he could land a job as a hand model. Or maybe you’ve really lost it.

His gaze flickers to catch your wide eyes, and you hold your breath when he speaks, “Is it too cold? Do you need another towel?” He asks. You stutter to answer him, so you shake your head no, eventually sputtering out a response of, “N-no, it’s fine. Thank you.”

Eddie turns to grab his snacks and falls into the other bed with a sigh, cracking open the bag of chips and popping a few into his mouth. You grimace and pull the sheets over your body as you comment, “If you bring ants to my room, I swear to god, Munson, I’ll hunt you down.” 

Eddie chuckles, glancing at you as you shift around and get comfortable in bed, “Not with that broken foot, you won’t.”

You glare at him over the heap of expensive duvets and pillows, “I wonder whose fault that is?” You respond, falling back into bed when you see him roll his eyes. 

Eddie clears his throat after a moment, “Speaking of that,” he begins; you peek over at him once again to watch as he puts the chips aside and grabs the remote to start flicking through channels. “Since we’re off these next four days, you should keep it light on your feet.”

You sarcastically laugh, “Don’t tell me you’re actually concerned for my well-being. This night keeps getting weirder and weirder.” You joke. Eddie pauses his task to glance at you, “No, I just…” You raise an eyebrow, urging him to continue. He rolls his eyes, “I’m not a complete asshole, you know?” He grumbles, turning back to the TV.

You’re snuggled into your sheets now as you watch Eddie flip through the channels, admiring how different features of his face light up under the different colors from the screen. He’s… pretty.

“What do you have planned for your days off?” You question behind a drawn-out yawn. You think you catch a glimpse of a smile on Eddie’s lips, but you can’t see very well in the dim lighting. “My Uncle Wayne is flying in, so… I’m spending time with him,” Eddie explains. You smile, “Your uncle?” 

Eddie nods, and you hum, “That’s nice… Can I meet him?” 

You’re never drinking wine again.

Eddie looks at you as if you’ve asked him the dumbest question on earth, “Why would… why?”

You shrug, “Maybe he’ll help me figure out why you’re such a grump.” You half-heartedly tease. Eddie scoffs, returning to watch the movie he’s landed on, “If you think I’m grumpy, you’re not equipped to meet Wayne.” He comments. And then something remarkable happens.

Eddie smiles to himself.

It’s small and obviously not meant for your eyes, but you see it either way, and it… fuck, it makes you feel things you would’ve never imagined you could for such an asshole of a man. What is going on?

“He can’t be any worse than you.” You joke. Eddie scoffs, “Nah, Wayne takes the cake for grumpiest man alive,” he bids. 

Eddie tells you about Wayne, little memories he remembers that bleed into more memories until, eventually, he’s practically taking a walk down memory road. You go back and forth with him, commenting when you had a similar situation or when Eddie mentioned the same show you loved in high school.

At some point, Eddie’s stories and the low hum of the TV lull you to sleep, and you find yourself lying in cotton candy clouds, sinking into the softness and letting it surround you. 

Eddie’s not sure when you checked out on him, but he figures he’d been talking to himself for a while because you're fast asleep when he looks over at you.

He watches you for a moment and appreciates the way the blue and white hues of the TV dance across your face. Your skin looks soft under the fluorescent lights, and he thinks the steady rise and fall of your breaths is more entertaining than any movie he could’ve landed on. And you’re so pretty— soft and molded to perfection, and Eddie thinks he might like you more like this; when you’re not talking and being the most obnoxious person he’s ever met. Eddie hates the feeling he gets in his chest from just looking at you. 

You’re cute, he thinks.

He shakes his head to free himself from whatever weird feelings are spiraling through his mind, and he turns off the TV, letting the darkness swallow the room.

He’ll just have to worry about his feelings another time, he thinks.

————

part four

————

a/n: HII U MADE IT TO THE END, U CAN ALL THANK MY STINK @mmunson86 FOR THE TINY PIECE OF FLUFF, THIS WAS FOR U BAE <3 ANYWAYS, PLS LET ME KNOW HOW U LIKED THIS PART I ALWAYS LOVE TO HEAR UR FEEDBACK, ILY BYE

————

cutie lil taglist: @mastermindmiko @whataboutbibi @ryanmxrie @ihatepeanutss @tlclick73 @motherfckerrr @emxxblog @jesssssmaybankk @eddiesguitarskills @bibieddiesgf @chloe-6123 @micheledawn1975 @demxnicprxncess @emma77645 @sidthedollface2 @mvnsonslvt @s-u-t

[lurkingshan]

Last Twilight Episode 12

A month ago, I never could have predicted that I’d be sitting here trying to assemble some thoughts to explain how on earth this show went so badly off the rails. I am truly taken aback by where this story landed, and I advise anyone who wants to think of it fondly to just pretend it ended at episode 9, and even skip the finale if you haven’t watched yet. Before I get into it, let me just start with a word of praise for the cast, who did a great job with their performances and kept this show afloat when the writing fell apart. And boy, did it fall apart.

In my view, this narrative had three main threads it was addressing: 1) Day’s journey to accepting his disability; 2) unresolved family trauma; and 3) Mhok and Day’s romance. And in the end, it failed on all three of them. I am going to dig into this and I am not feeling particularly nice, so if this is going to hurt your feelings I suggest you stop reading now. 

Day’s Journey

Just…wow. We have been afraid of this turn the entire time and trying to hold out hope that the show would not go there, but here we are. I started laughing out loud when we got to the end of part 3 and Mhon’s phone went off with an alert for a new eye donor, and then just stared incredulously at my screen as we time skipped AGAIN to a Day whose vision had been restored for years (last week I joked to @bengiyo and @waitmyturtles that once a drama starts using time skips it becomes addictive and they never stop, and—welp!). What was this entire show for? Why did we spend twelve episodes with Day grieving his vision loss, learning how to cope, and finally accepting his blindness only to completely undercut it at the end? The first part of the finale was so much about how he was thriving—finding a new career for himself and becoming self-sufficient and growing so much on his own—only to give us an ending that implied he could not actually have his happily ever after without his vision restored. 

And this is in fact the message they sent by coupling the return of his vision with the return of he and Mhok’s relationship, and giving us a happy ending rooted in his contentment at having his sight back. They even went back to the Last Twilight mountain to completely tarnish the thematic resonance of the original scene. Calling back to the beautiful memory of Day “seeing” the sunset and experiencing “a moment so good that you feel like you can live there forever” as he accepted his disability with this scene of him seeing the real sunset with his restored vision was so hurtful to me that I actually got angry. Day didn’t need his vision back to get a happy ending, and I absolutely hate what this communicates about disabled people’s capacity to live happy and fulfilling lives. This show has created many writing sins but this is the most unforgivable to me.

Family Trauma

The show began dropping the ball on this one a few weeks ago, but this finale put the nail in the coffin. We spent most of this episode at Porjai and Night’s wedding, an event that might have felt meaningful if the show had let us see any of their romance. I’m grateful to Mark Pakin and Namtan Tipnaree for their beauty and charisma because it’s the only thing that made me care about those scenes at all. Rather than actually being about them, however, this wedding was used primarily as a clunky vehicle to deliver heavy-handed messages about “second chances” to encourage Day to get back together with Mhok (more on that in the next section). 

I did enjoy the brief nods in this episode to the brothers continuing to have newfound harmony in their relationship, but where the show really lost me was in their attempt to bring Night and Day’s dad back into the mix and imply some sort of resolution between him and Mhon. Mhon, a woman whose perspective on their split we never actually saw, whose motivation for her choices and behavior toward her sons were completely elided by the narrative, who was forgiven and made peace with offscreen during a time skip. I was never given the chance to understand her or what this relationship meant to her in the first place, so why would I care about these scenes with her making her peace with this man? I continue to be so confused about where this show chose to spend its time, and why someone with Aof’s track record on developing strong and narratively important familial relationships dropped the ball so much with her. 

The Romance

Okay, let’s get into it, and remember what I said about not reading if this is going to hurt your feelings! My criteria for considering a romance successful is I have to believe the relationship is mutual, beneficial to both of the pair, and that the couple is prepared to weather future challenges. Last Twilight’s romance fails on all three fronts, and it all comes down to the total imbalance in the relationship that persisted right through the final scenes.

This entire narrative has been Mhok bending to Day’s will, giving Day what he needs, forgiving him for everything, and letting him make all the decisions about the relationship, and the finale was regrettably more of the same. In episode 11, Mhok made a mistake when he lied to Day about turning down the job in Hawaii. But he made that mistake out of grief and fear, and Day didn’t care—he unfeelingly rejected him and his pain and ended their relationship without a second thought. That was potentially forgivable as a momentary lapse borne out of instinctual hurt, and could have been repairable had Day reconsidered soon after and extended Mhok some grace. But in this episode, we find out Day blocked Mhok and refused to communicate with him again after that night, and has left Mhok completely in the cold for three years after he failed to be perfect one (1) time.

And this episode? Was on Day’s side in this conflict. Mhok is the one to return and start pursuing Day again. Mhok is the one to broach the topic of their breakup. Mhok is the one to thank Day for breaking his heart and tell him he did nothing wrong (y’all, I almost threw something at the screen). Mhok’s grief and trauma go completely unaddressed in this finale until they try to play the Rung card for one last moment of sentiment. Day cries to his mother about how he just doesn’t know if he can forgive Mhok. And in the end, Mhok makes the grand gesture, missing his flight to go to Day and stay in Thailand with him despite the successful life he has built in Hawaii.

The cognitive dissonance I felt watching this play out was extreme. I rarely see a writer misunderstand their own characters and relationship conflict so thoroughly. In order to believe in this romance we needed to see Day finally show some empathy for Mhok, take responsibility for his own mistakes, and be the one to make an effort this time. We needed to believe that Day has the capacity to be a supportive partner to Mhok even when he’s struggling. But Day didn’t demonstrate any of that, and so I simply don’t believe in this relationship. I don’t believe Mhok can trust Day not to abandon him again when some other major life event intervenes and Mhok is less than perfect. And that’s a shame, because the show really almost had something here with these two. 

And that’s all I got. What a disappointment this show turned out to be. If you need me, I will just be over here in my little corner imagining the Night and Porjai romcom that we never got and pretending the rest of this show ended several weeks ago.

[babydollmarauders]

ONE PRESENT — ALEX TURCOTTE

alex turcotte x fem!reader

12 DAYS OF KINKMAS

summary: in which Alex lets y/n open one present on christmas eve, and puts that present to use

warnings: NSFW CONTENT, toy use, oral (m receiving). (2.6k words)

notes: merry Christmas eve!! it’s day 11 of the 12 days of kinkmas, which means tomorrow is the last day! fair warning; i wrote this while sick and on multiple medications.

“it’s not a christmas movie.”

my hand is covered in salty butter from fresh popcorn, my glasses perched high on the bridge of my nose as i argue with my boyfriend.

“it absolutely is!”

my head snaps towards Alex, lips parted in disbelief.

“Die Hard is not a christmas movie!” i huff, my butter covered finger pointing at the tv, in which said movie is playing, “it’s an action thriller!”

“but it takes place during christmas time, therefore making it a christmas movie!”

“therefore.” i mock in a squeaky, high pitched tone, my boyfriend gaping at me in disapproval.

“you are such a child.” he shakes his head, but i can see the way he bites his cheeks, fighting back a smile.

“and yet, you’ve been with me for two years.” i grin, leaning forward to peck a kiss to the indented dimple that appears when he cracks his smile.

“you didn’t let your immaturity show until a month ago, when we moved in together.”

“bullshit,” i roll my eyes, grabbing another handful of popcorn, “i let my immaturity shine in all its glory on our first date, when i laughed after you said ‘balls.’”

Alex grins, pressing a kiss to my forehead before he responds, “i love it.”

it’s not too much longer before the movie ends, my boyfriend clicking off the tv as i get up to wash my hands and put the popcorn bowl in the dishwasher.

“do you think my mom is mad?” Alex questions, his eyes glued to his phone screen. his brows are threaded together and he appears in deep thought as i walk up to him, “she’s being pretty short in her responses.”

i peer at his phone screen, his message thread with his mother open.

“i’m sure she’s just busy,” i tell him, “she said she understood you not coming home.”

“yeah, but maybe she was just being nice.”

i smile softly, pushing his phone out of his face before climbing onto his lap, legs resting on either side of him.

“babe, there comes a time when almost everyone stops going home for christmas,” my words are spoken gently, my hands rising to cup his face as he stares back at me, “we both agreed that we wanted to spend christmas together, in the new house. it was your idea.”

he nods, turning his head to press a kiss to my palm.

“i know, i just feel bad, y’know?” now it’s my turn to nod in understanding.

“i know, baby. but, we’ll have a great christmas tomorrow! i’m making my cinnamon rolls, and you’ll make the coffee, and then we’ll open not only our gifts from each other, but all the gifts our families sent.”

my eyes flicker over to our christmas tree, piles of presents extending far beyond the branches.

“my parents went overboard,” i whisper, “i’m pretty sure you have more presents from them than i do.”

Alex barks out a laugh at my words, arms snaking around my waist to pull me tight against his chest, “they love me, what can i say?”

“you can say ‘stop, don’t love me more than your own daughter! that’s not fair to her!’”

he clicks his tongue against his teeth, “but then i wouldn’t get as many presents!”

i scoff, hitting his shoulder, but i don’t get a chance to respond before he’s got us falling sideways onto the couch cushions beside us, our faces lining up so we can stare at each other.

“i love you.” he mutters softly, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to my lips, and i hum in satisfaction.

“i love you a googol.” i cheese at him, my response earning me a hearty laugh.

“did you just tell me you love me as much as your made up number?”

“it’s not made up!” i gasp, “it’s one followed by one-hundred zeroes!”

“i’m dating a nerd.” he groans, prompting me to giggle before kissing the tip of his nose.

“you chose me.” i remind him.

“yeah, and i would choose you again.”

“you’re so cheesy.” i roll my eyes, but my smile never leaves my face, my hand running up and down his muscled arm.

we sit there in silence for awhile, eyes closed as we cuddle up on the couch, nothing but the sounds of our breathing.

i’m enjoying the peaceful quiet until he pushes my glasses up to my forehead, pulling one of my eyelids up to open my eye. i swat his hand away, groaning.

“what?” i snap.

“hey, i have a gift for you.”

“yeah, i know,” i huff, battling with his hand as he reaches up to try and forcefully open my eyes again, “i’m opening all your gifts tomorrow.”

“no,” Alex drags out, “i have a gift for you to open tonight.”

my eyes fly open and i let go of his hand, allowing him to push my glasses back down to my eyes so i can see him clearly.

“a christmas eve gift?”

he nods, “like you said your family does; although i think mine is better than pajamas.”

“hey, don’t knock the pajamas! that tradition will carry onto our children one day.” i reply.

“and i can’t wait for that. but right now, pajamas don’t sound like a fun gift, but i think mine is.”

i allow him to sit up, pulling me up with him before he leads me to our bedroom. my silk pajamas slip across the bed when he tells me to sit and i watch as he disappears into our closet, returning with a small, poorly wrapped present.

“oooh, what is it?” i ask, excitement filling my body as i make grabby hands toward him.

“open it and find out.” he smiles, handing me the gift.

watching intently as i slowly rip off the wrapping paper, he sits beside me on the bed. as the red paper falls away, i’m left with a box in my hand, a picture of a pink object on the front with words reading ‘Bullet Soft-Touch’.

“is this-” i trail off, looking up at my boyfriend in amusement.

“a vibrator,” he shrugs nonchalantly but his cheeks twinge pink as he speaks, watching me open the box and pull out the object, “i figured it would help when i’m on roadies, and i thought maybe we could test it out tonight.”

my brows furrow as i cock my head to the side.

“test it-” i echo, momentarily speechless by his bold statement, “what, you wanna watch me masturbate?”

Alex chuckles at my confusion, shaking his head, “no, although i’ll definitely file that for a later date. i wanna use it on you.”

“oh.”

i let the idea ping around in my head for a few moments, my legs pressing together at the thought of him holding this toy between them, controlling my pleasure.

“okay.” i nod.

“yeah?”

“yeah.” i repeat, setting the box to the side, as well as the vibrator that fits perfectly in my hand.

i turn, climbing over to straddle his waist as i pull his lips towards mine, “thank you, baby, i love it.”

our lips meet in the middle, slow yet crude kisses shared between us. his tongue slips past my lips, exploring my mouth with fervor, as though it hasn’t been in the same position a million times before.

“i already charged it and washed it yesterday.” he tells me, his sentence broken up by my lips pressing against his.

i acknowledge his words with a soft moan, the energy between us heating rapidly as i gently grind my hips down against his. my silk pajama shorts, slide easily over his sweatpants, which i know for a fact is the only layer covering his slowly hardening cock.

we had changed into pajamas hours ago, before the movie, leaving him in only sweatpants, in which he never wears boxers underneath at home.

“crawl up on the bed, doll.” he pulls away, his hand slapping against my ass as i follow his demand, making my body jolt in surprise.

i lay with my head on my pillow, watching with baited breath as he moves the vibrator box onto my dresser before grabbing the vibrator itself off the mattress.

“take your shorts off.”

my thumbs tuck into my waistband, sliding not only my pajama shorts, but my panties down my legs. i flick them onto the floor as my boyfriend joins me back on the bed, sitting on his knees in front of my parted legs.

his free hand smooths over the skin of my leg, the other clicking the toy on and repeatedly pressing the button, trying out the different speeds and patterns before turning it off.

“relax.” he coos, nudging my legs open a bit more for him to fit between them.

he drops down to his stomach, his hot breath hitting against my damp pussy, and a mild shiver racks my body. his lust-blown eyes meet mine, holding contact as he lets a string of spit drop from his mouth and onto my clit.

turning the toy onto the lowest level, he gazes up at me as he lays it against my clit, my hips jerking at the sudden vibrations that reverberate through my core. his hand sprawls across my lower abdomen, holding my hips down as he circles the toy around my clit.

he watches with a grin as my head falls back against the pillows, my breathing turning into heavy pants.

“Alex.” i cry as he applies more pressure.

he presses the button again, the vibrations picking up in intensity and making me squirm underneath his touch. my back arches, eyes squeezed shut as my hands fist the sheets.

“look at you,” his hips grind gently against the mattress, his words barely heard over my cries of pleasure, “so pretty; getting wetter with each second.”

he rubs the vibrator on my clit, my stomach tying in knots with each passing minute that he holds the toy against me. pressing one last time, the vibrations gain intensity once more and my eyes roll back as my teeth sink into my bottom lip, biting so hard that i’m surprised i haven’t drawn blood.

my walls tighten around nothing, my hips wiggling as much as they can under his touch as i begin lightly grinding against the toy.

“Alex, i’m so close,” my words are whimpered in a hurried breath, my legs tensing and shaking as i resist every urge for them to close, “don’t stop! please, don’t stop!”

“i’m not gonna stop, doll,” true to his word, my boyfriend holds the vibrator still against my clit, my body trembling as my breath catches in my throat, “cum for me.”

as though i was awaiting his approval, i let go, a strangled moan escaping my lips as i reach my orgasm.

“holy fuck.”

Alex chuckles at my reaction, turning the toy off when my hips jerk away from it. he tosses it to the other side of the bed, crawling over me as he smiles.

“that was so fucking hot.” he whispers, leaning down to press a kiss to my lips.

as he pulls away, i can feel his fully hardened erection pressing against my thigh, and i immediately feel guilty that he didn’t get to cum. but spotting the look in my eye, Alex shakes his head.

“it’s okay, promise. i don’t wanna overwork you tonight when you still need to be able to walk on christmas.”

my head pushes back into the pillows as i laugh, my cheeks turning pink at the reminder that i can’t go multiple rounds without feeling it the next day.

his cock still pressing against me, my head finally clears enough to think, and i’m quickly nudging him off of me.

rising from the bed on wobbly legs, i pull my boyfriend by his hands until he’s sitting on the edge, taking my glasses off and setting them on the nightstand.

“what are you doing?” he questions, but i don’t respond, rather choosing to let my actions speak for themselves.

i sink down to my knees, watching as realization brightens in his eyes. i reach up, one hand trailing down his stomach and making his abs clench as my fingers tickle the area, and as soon as my fingers hook into his waistband, he’s lifting his hips; helping me nudge the sweatpants down his legs until i can finally pull them off.

tossing them beside me on the floor, i spit into my palm making sure it’s well lubricated before i wrap my hand around his length, his tip bright red as it glistens with precum.

running my thumb over his slit, he lets out a grunt, biting his lip as i spread the precum down his shaft for extra lubricant.

i lean forward, peering up through my lashes as i press my lips to his tip, kissing gently and coaxing a hiss out of his lips. his hands tangle in my hair, pulling it into a makeshift ponytail.

my tongue darts out, kitten licking his tip before i take him in my mouth, sucking gently as i begin jerking his length. his grip on my hair tightens, curses falling from his lips as his head tips back, and his reactions only urge me to continue, letting my jaw go slack and relaxing my throat as i go deeper, breathing through my nose as my hands work whatever doesn’t immediately fit in my mouth.

“fucking skilled,” he gruffs, looking back down at me as i flatten my tongue against the underside of his cock, “that pretty little mouth, just for me.”

i moan in response, making his hips buck up, and his tip hits the back of my throat, making me gag around him, tears pooling in my eyes.

“shit, fuck!” Alex groans, eyes squeezing shut at the sensation.

i pull back, my lips releasing him with a pop, and gulp in a deep breath, my hands still pumping him as i catch my breath.

once i’ve deemed myself ready, i let my tongue loll out, relaxing my throat as i taking him in again, this time, as deep as i can go. one hand drops from his length, falling down to massage his balls as i try hard not to gag around him.

tears run down my cheeks as i bob my head and despite my greatest efforts, i gag each time the tip of his cock hits the back of my throat. hearty moans drop from his lips, and i watch as his abs clench, his dick jerking in my mouth, signifying to me that he’s close.

“doll, i’m gonna-” he barely gets to finish his sentence before he tenses, his grip on my hair becoming even tighter as a grunts, cock pulsating in my mouth as ropes of cum coat my throat.

i continue pumping him, milking him dry until he finally sighs, using his hand in my hair to pull my mouth off of him. he stares down at me with darkened eyes as i open my mouth, showing off his sticky cum, before swallowing, opening again to show him it’s gone.

“fucking hell,” he sighs, hands dropping from my hair in order to lock around the back of my neck, pulling me up for a kiss, “i’m gonna marry you, you know that?”

i laugh, my throat sore and voice raspy from my previous actions, “yeah, i know.”

Alex grins, rising from the bed. he pulls me towards the en-suite bathroom, nodding his head towards the shower.

“wanna join me?”

i nod, pulling my pajama top over my head and throwing it on the counter, “but no more funny business! i can’t make breakfast tomorrow if i’m limping!”

he nods, holding his hand up as though he’s under oath, “i’ll be on my best behavior!”

my eyes roll as i turn the shower water on, looking over as i wait for it to heat up.

“somehow, that doesn’t comfort me.”