#forced to take on too much responsibility in a messed-up world

[chleem]

Flashing lights prologue

Series; actor Drew x actress reader

Summary: Drew gets involved in the worst scandal of his career. One way to solve it? Proving to the whole world that he’s the sweetest lover to exist. Who better to help than the one person he can’t stand? You, an A class actress with an alcohol addiction. So, will Drew clear up his reputation, or leave with a bigger mess to clean up?

Genre: fake dating, enemies to lovers(?, slow burn, angst, smut,

Warning: mentions of alcohol, swearing, mentions of k!lling oneself, mentions of rape & sa, mentions of drug usage, smoking & vaping,

⋆.˚ please dont copy my work, if inspired please tag me

⋆.˚ this is entirely fictional, if uncomfortable then don't read

♡⸝⸝ ps: chapter one soon! index

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Talk about a scandal. 

‘Drew Starkey, rising star from OBX, impregnates girl and refuses to take responsibility.’ ‘Drew Starkey impregnates girl and forces her for an abortion.’ ‘All to know about OBX star that SA a girl.’

Even an interview starring a random girl that claims to be pregnant with Drew’s child. 

If Drew knew going to the club a week ago would cause such big damage to his career, he would have never stop foot in there. But being stubborn and a sucker for fun, he just needed the relaxation that clubbing would offer. 

His PR manager Henry, who Drew’s only sees once a year, is surprisingly quiet. He sits across Drew, staring at his laptop. His typing makes up for the quiet and tense (at least for Drew) atmosphere in his manager’s office. 

“I’m sorry,” Drew starts, genuinely, his eyes shifting between his manager Jeff and Henry. “Look, I don’t know who that woman is. She’s lying, alright? I didn’t even talk to any strangers last night. Just my friends. And I was careful with how much I drank-”

“Calm down, we didn’t accuse you of it,” Jeff chuckles, also surprisingly calm and not scolding Drew. Normally, Jeff would scold Drew so hard that it took Drew back to the days of being coached by his dad. “I’ve worked with you for almost ten years, I know you wouldn’t do that.”

Hold up. Was this a dream? He fucked up real bad, why were his managers so forgiving? So… calm? This felt way too strange. They should be furious right now, thinking of a solution and threatening to kill Drew. So why were they so gentle with this situation?

Drew adjusts his hat, pocking his tongue against his cheek. Without thinking, he simply says, “What?”

Jeff glances at Henry, who nods, looking up from his laptop. Drew furrows his eyebrows at Jeff, who simply looks away as Henry starts. “Fine, Drew. We’re all fucking pissed at your mistake. Do you know how many sponsors have asked to break up your contract? Even after we’ve came up with a clean statement? For fuck’s sake, Drew. You’re fucking thirty now, and you still act like a fucking child!”

Drew licks his lips looking away. Okay, this was the Henry he saw yelling at other artists, and what he expected when he walked into the office this morning. But now that he was yelling at him, it felt horrible still. After all, who likes to be yelled at? 

“I’ve had to pull multiple strings to help you, to clear your name up. So you better hope this is your last mistake,” Henry continues. 

Drew couldn’t help but ask, “what did you do?”

“We’ve come up with a plan,” Henry says, walking over to the printer. He grabs the paper, taking a quick look before placing it on the table in front of Drew.

Drew’s eyebrows furrow, sensing something really strange. 

And he was right. On the top of the paper, it read, “Fake dating Proposal.”

What the fuck. He reads through the first sentence in his head, with widen eyes, “In order to save Drew Starkey’s career, he must conduct a year-long fake relationship with Y/n Y/l/n.”

He falls back in his seat. “You’re not fucking serious. This is the strings you had to pull? This is fucking ridiculous! How is this-“

“Drew!” Jeff yells, making him shut up. His face was slightly red, sweat dripping down his forehead. “Drew, trust us. We wouldn’t cause more harm. This, this will save your career, save you.”

“but out of anyone-“ Drew adjusts his hat once again. “Out of anyone, and you chose her?”

“She’s the best choice of right now, and the only one who even agreed. Drew. You’re not in the place of choosing. You sign, and you accept it. Or it’s the end.”

He couldn’t believe himself right now. Literally. Out of every solution, every person, it had to be you. You, the one person he can’t stand. You, the one person that gets him worked up and annoyed. It was like the end of the world for him. 

Worse, his manager seems to agree with this solution. As if he doesn’t know how much Drew despises you. Jeff places the pen next to Drew. “I hate to say this, but Drew, you’re screwed unless you do this. We see the vision, and in a few years, you’ll see it too. Just, just treat this as another acting class, okay?”

Do I have a choice anyways, he thinks. Drew rubs his face in annoyance. Fuck. Damn you and damn himself. Getting into this stupid situation in the first place. 

He looks at the contract again. Sees your name again. And his head hurts a thousand times worse than a hangover. 

He reads through the contract terms, cringing at it. 

‘Must show up at five or more public evens together.’

‘Must show PDA at public events, such as touching, holding hands, kissing etc.’

‘Y/n Y/l/n must talk sweetly about Drew Starkey, and steer away any negative comments.’

‘During the course of this fake-relationship, being seen with any other costar of the opposite sex is forbidden.’

Much more was listed, at least twenty terms were on this contract alone. So this is the real thing. 

And at the bottom, Drew sees what was offered. Wow. You get offered millions of dollars, while all Drew receives is a clear to his scandal. 

He should at least get half the amount you’re earning, considering that he has to put up with you. “How can she get so much cash?” Drew asks, curiosity killing him. 

“Because she’s got nothing to gain from being with you,” Jeff states matter-of-factly, that hurt Drew’s ego more than it should have. He also noticed how much money this was, almost all the money he earned from acting in OBX. Wow. So not only were you a moody bitch, but a greedy one as well. 

Drew rubs his eyes aggressively, a frustrated yawn coming out. He so is going to regret this. The worst decision he ever has to make. 

You better be the savior to his career, or he was going to kill himself. 

Drew signs, pushing the paper away as if it had some kind of disease. 

Henry forces a smile, grabbing the paper. Drew gets ready to leave, but Henry stops him. “Where are you going?”

“Home. I- that was enough for me.”

“No, no. You’re going to Y/n’s filming set.”

“What?”

“Yes, you heard me. Her manager gave the green light, so you’re going.”

“Fuck, it’s only like, a minute since I signed.”

“Hey, I’m saving you right now,” Henry says. “Now, you want your sponsors back or not?”

Drew curses under his breath, never wanting to punch a wall as much as right now. “Fine. I'll go. But I can’t promise that I’m hugging or touching her or anything. She’s a complete stranger to me.”

“We just need a couple of photos to leak out,” Jeff says, grabbing his jacket. “I’ll drive you there.”

“Fucking hate you Jeff,” Drew says, walking out the office. “Henry you asshole.”

Either his managers heard and said whatever, or they didn’t care. But cursing at people who's helping him ‘save’ his career was the least of his worries. His head is just consumed with meeting you again, the brattiest bitch he's ever known.

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word count: 1.2k

ִ ࣪𖤐 a/n: i'm sooo happy for the support and how much people liked the teaser! i was giggling seeing the reblogs and likes.

anyways, thought i should release a prologue first, to give drew's pov of this situation. apologies in advance for y/n's character and anyone who can't handle her! but i'm so excited for you guys to read ch1, which will be released later this week! like or comment to show support, really appreciate it <3

[lem-argentum]

playing ff.xiv blind as a th.ancred fan from the beginning is so funny. “hmm i wonder where than is- WHAT DO YOU MEAN HE WAS POSSESSED BY ONE OF THE MOST POWERFUL BEINGS IN THE UNIVERSE….....” “hmm i wonder what happened to than after he was teleported from the- HIS ABILITY TO INTERACT WITH THE NATURAL ENERGY OF THE WORLD WAS SEVERED AND HE HAD TO FEND FOR HIMSELF FOR MONTHS IN THE MIDDLE OF NOWHERE????” “yaay than gets to help us with planning our defenses :D- DID HE JUST DIEoh he’s not dead his soul was just RIPPED AWAY TO ANOTJEJR WORLD????!?!?” “ohh he gets to fight r.yne’s awful guardian figure i wonder what he’s gonna- DID HE JUST DIEoh he’s fine nevermind he gets to have resolved character development now :)” “aww okay we get to go to the end of the universe together, and he’s already gone through so much so clearly nothing bad will happen to hDID HE J

[sammygender]

im so sick of rich people whining about being called rich. or upper middle class WHATEVER. just saw some stupid tiktok about how people with airpods and. like. those fancy rich fridges with filters that make water. are not the enemy. and like well yeah i suppose so but it’s not hurting anyone for people to make fun of them. some delusional idiot in the comments saying “a family on 200k a year is not rich” are you actually fucking kidding me rn

[bluetooththereptile]

Unwelcomed embrace (part two)

Yandere super family x neglected reader

( English is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes in the following text.)

Note: this one shot is continuation of this one.

Tw: mentions of violence

"Why don't you have one of those small micro earphones that you attach to the collar of the clothing?" You groaned as you tried to find a good position to rest your hand on under the weight of the mic in your hand, you sighed as you looked at its round head, you didn't like it that much, it felt uneasy in your palm. The chair was too rigid for you to sit comfortably on it, creaking under your weight. You looked down at the mic that had a sock on as a muffler, smiling at the inventiveness of the reporter. "I presume your budget is not that much huh?" The reporter nodded with a sheepish smile as he tried to put on some powder to conceal some of the scar marks on your face, well, as much as your skin color let him do so. "Yeah..." he sighed "the budget is low."

You looked at him, focused on his task, young and ambitious, just like you, you felt like he had the same recklessness as well, why would a sane person come and meet a dangerous anti-hero over a post on Twitter? "Ready?" He asked as he adjusted his camera, you shifted on your seat once more, checking the dark background of the warehouse you were in, and then looked back at the shiny lens of the camera. You paused, still, your hand didn't have a good place to rest its elbow on, huffing in irritation, you rolled your eyes, you had to do something about it, if it kept irritating you, you'd end up messing everything up. So you focused on the cemented floor below, making a thick-bodied plant sprout out of the harsh floor and bend towards you, its leaves forming a cocoon, you smirked and put the mic on the head of the plant and used it as a stand, chuckling at the amazement of the reporter "Now I'm ready!"

"1...2...3..." the reporter spoke softly before the camera started filming and the red light on its front started blinking. "Alright, please introduce yourself..." he spoke to you behind the camera, tapping his pen nervously, you hummed to yourself and tapped your chin as you crossed your legs, trying to find a point to start from "I feel like a Podcaster now..." you joked, before clearing your throat as you started "Well, I'm what media used to call the "Green super" You used quotation marks in the air, your voice showing hints of your initial irritation to the name, which had associated you with superman since your powers were nearly the same. "But now I go with the Green Death, pretty cheesy, but I like it" you chuckled and continued "Well the name is not that far off from my personality either, I am green, my skin is that color."

"So, Green Death, your name has been on the news as the sole force that has kept the Armageddon from happening, twice, already, and now you, all of a sudden, while you had ignored the chance of interviewing with huge media broadcasters, have decided to have an interview now, here in the middle of nowhere, why is that?" You rubbed your chin as you thought about a response, your lips tilting upwards in a smirk "Well, now I have enough evidence to finally show the world who the heroes truly are." You paused, taking it the confused expression of the reporter, adding quickly "Make no mistake, I'm not going to expose their identities, that would make hell break loose, I just simply want to shed a much more different light on them and their actions. As you may know, I was a part of the young Justice League and then Justice League itself for a few years, and I'm the result of a 'heroic affair' myself, so I'd have a very different insight on them..."

"Why though? I mean we pretty much know about the heroes..." You let out a soft chuckle, leaning back in your seat "Well, that is sort of true, but tell me, do you know of the assaults and different crimes that have happened by their hands? For example, do you know Batman has kidnapped nearly three people and has erased their documents out of the system, making them vanish into thin air, never to be seen?" The reporter's eyes widened at that, your smirk turned into a wide smile as you continued "I have both the video footage and documents of it happening..."

"B-but why do you want to expose them for their deeds, knowing well you are fully aware of what they can do, surely they don't want anyone to know that... " "I have exposed the bad guys of the story already, my mother is after me because of that, so I don't think exposing the heroes would be any different...the world has to know who they truly are!"

You were hellbent on tarnishing the images of the heroes once and for all.

Since the time you had left the Justice League, your life had changed a lot, just within two years, you had gone from being a hero to a villain and then to an anti-hero, a cruel topsy turvey irony. It all had started with your mother finally owning up to her parenting role and had found you in your most vulnerable state when you were struggling to pass your days in your trailer. She took you in and tried in her twisted way to help you, for a short period you felt like you had a family, she seemed genuinely nice. But a few months later, you ended up joining the dark force, how? You still were not sure, all you could remember was your mother's voice echoing in your mind as she puffed a shiny dust in your face, and you shaking hands with the Darkseid himself as he had that disgusting grin on his face. It was after that night that you found out that bitch had manipulated you into joining the bad guys, well who wouldn't want to have a version of Superman in their league that wasn't vulnerable to kryptonite? At first, you tried to pretend that you did want to hurt people just for the fun of it, in your mind, you were taking revenge on your father, who looked devastated whenever you had joint missions with your new teammates.

Well, you couldn't deny that the sheer rush of dopamine you felt was great, no rules were there to hold you back, just destroy and enjoy, the loot was lucrative as well. But, still, something in the back of your mind nagged and you couldn't overlook that you hated hurting vulnerable people and you couldn't do it anymore, so at a very crucial mission, you ended up killing all of your teammates before fleeing. You gave your mother a good beating up before you dropped her on the Arkham's doors and then vanished into an abandoned base until things became normal. After that your way of life became of an anti-hero, you didn't want to admit it but annoying the heroes was fun, at least you weren't killing vulnerable people. You did what they couldn't do, you fought without rules and the results were more drastic.

But you wanted to roast your father more, you wanted to make him burn, and what was better than exposing him? "As for Superman, he at least has killed more than 100 people in his missions, the government has already covered that up but I have the proof...flash has caused a climate change that ended up ruining agriculture of the whole world for a year, resulting in famines, Aquaman has sunk a few ships, that were NOT of military-related, killing civilians, also, Wonder woman has kidnapped a few people...and so on and so forth." You started warming up, mentioning more and more of what you knew.

The reporter took note as you spoke, and you were liking the role of the one exposing the hidden secrets of the heroes. You were actually enjoying it too much, so much in fact that your super-human sense didn't detect the flight of Superman and Superboy coming to your location at a bullet-like speed. And within seconds they both crashed into the warehouse Kool-Aid style, making a huge impact.

You were quick to react, using your laser eyes to attack Super Boy, but Conner was quick to dodge, Clark quickly pulled the reporter out of the range of the fight and out of sight, he let Bruc take care of the reporter and his evidence later, now he had you, his troubling child that was now entering dangerous waters. Conner and you fought, trashing the warehouse even further, you didn't know why but Conner's grin was getting on your nerves already.

The two supers had a plan of taking you down, and it was going pretty smoothly, going just as planned, you grew to angry and Conner used it to his advantage, pinning you down by a broken pillar, giving Clark enough time so he could throw the pollen towards you, damn it! How the hell they had gotten their hands on the special pollen that your mother had created just for controlling you?! You tried to not breathe, but the bitter taste of it already had formed in your mouth, making your mind go foggy. Damn it! Damn it!!!!!!

"We need to talk..." Clark's voice echoed in your mind, your vision was so distorted that you could only see the silhouette of your father approaching you "And we need to talk properly!" His voice made your heart skip...uh oh...Clark was serious.

[girlgenius1111]

flipped 2

ingrid x mapi x reader fluff + angst. r and mapi try to get to the bottom of what's going on with ingrid. wasn't positive i was going to write this but anything for @sunnyaelia

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When Ingrid woke, she didn’t open her eyes right away. She was much too comfortable, a soft blanket draped over her body, her face pressed comfortably into Mapi’s sweatshirt. She could feel your hands on her back, slipped up under the shirt you’d pulled on her. Your hands were smoother than Mapi’s, mindlessly stroking up and down. She could hear you both talking quietly, too, and the sounds of your voices were like some kind of soothing drug. You were mostly just talking about nothing, but a question Mapi posed caught her attention. 

“How does your head feel?” She asked softly, brushing some hair back away from your forehead. 

Honestly, it didn’t feel good. It was pulsing with a headache that you knew was from exerting yourself too much, from the rush of endorphins and chemicals in your brain. The pressure inside your skull was intense, and though it wasn’t very pleasant, you didn’t mind much. Not if the cause had made your girlfriend this relaxed in Mapi’s arms. 

“Okay.” You lied, not wanting to draw attention away from Ingrid for even a moment. 

“How does your head feel?” Mapi asked again, frowning this time as she could tell you weren’t telling the truth. 

“It’s been better.” You allowed, your eyes fluttering shut at the feeling of Mapi gently running a finger over your forehead. 

“Amor,”

“How is your knee?” You countered. Mapi rolled her eyes. 

“Do not change the subject. You should have told me it was bothering you.” 

“I was fine. Ingrid needed this. It’s worth it, if she feels better.” You argued back. Mapi had a hard time coming up with a dissenting response, because honestly, she’d do almost anything to make Ingrid feel better, too. Instead, she turned her attention to the woman draped over her, her lips pulling into an involuntary smile at the sight. 

“She looks relaxed.” Mapi murmured, taking in the perfection of Ingrid’s face, a perfection she never got tired of looking at. 

“I’m worried she’s going to go back to how she was before when she wakes up. Acting like she’s fine, running herself into the ground. It’s a miracle she hasn’t picked up an injury yet, María, we can’t let her go on like this.” 

Mapi hummed her agreement, and Ingrid felt her heart clench. It wasn’t her intention to make you guys worry, really the opposite. She wanted to take care of everything possible so that neither of you had to worry. She wanted to play so well, it instilled confidence in the team that the back line was secure. She wanted to be a leader. She wanted to be dependable. She wanted to be perfect, perfect for both of you. 

The realization that she hadn’t been able to do this for you stung, and she felt tears welling in her eyes before she could do anything to stop it. Both you and Mapi noticed her stiffen slightly, and the way her eyes scrunched together told you all you needed to know. Before either of you could speak, Ingrid was forcing her eyes open, a devastated green looking up at you. 

“I’m sorry I’ve been worrying you,” she whispered, her forehead creasing with sadness. 

“You don’t need to say sorry for that, amor.” Mapi promised. 

Ingrid shook her head, biting her lip as it trembled, so hard she almost seemed angry with herself for crying. “No, you both have more important things to worry about than me, I’m okay.” 

“We have nothing more important to worry about than you, Ingrid. Nothing. Don’t say stuff like that because it isn’t true.” You said, unable to hide how upset her statement made you, and wondering how you and Mapi had messed up so badly that Ingrid was so convinced that she wasn’t important. “You are the most important thing to us.” 

The pure disbelief on Ingrid’s face felt like a bullet through the heart. The Norwegian always came across as so confident, so sure of herself. This façade tricked the whole world into thinking she believed it, and it had tricked the two of you too. This realization stunned you into silence, briefly, a silence that Ingrid frantically tried to fill. 

“No, no, you’re both hurt. I need to take care of you, I need to make sure you both are okay. Let me up, please, María, I need to get her some ice for her head.” Ingrid sniffled, fighting the tight embrace Mapi’s arms had her in. The Spaniard shook her head firmly, but looked at you with concern. 

“Love, I’m okay, I promise you.” You implored. 

“You need me.” Ingrid repeated brokenly. 

Slowly, you nodded, eyes searching her pained expression. “I do need you. I always need you. You need us too, though. Can you let us take care of you?” 

“I don’t need to be taken care of,” she began, only growing more teary eyed when Mapi cut her off. 

“Stop, amor, stop lying. You said earlier you feel the most stressed you have ever felt in your life. Forgot about my knee for a minute, forget about her head. We are okay, but we need you to be okay too. It’s okay for you to need us.”  

Ingrid shook her head rapidly. “No. I can’t need you.”

“Why not, princesa?” Mapi asked, in a soft tone of voice she reserved for you and Ingrid. Her gaze was beyond gentle as she regarded the Norwegian women, one tattooed hand cradling a freckled cheek.

 “I can’t need you because you both deserve so much better than me, I don’t deserve to be loved by you.” she said quietly, rushing the words out as if they’d been swirling around in her head for some time. She missed the anger that flashed across Mapi’s face, but you didn’t. You felt the same way, honestly. You wanted to seek out whatever had made her feel like this, but you had a feeling that the trail would just lead you back to her. Perfect, beautiful, kind Ingrid. You couldn’t shout the insecure part of her away, it wouldn’t work. So, you rested a hand on Mapi’s shoulder to calm her, but it seemed that she had reached the same conclusion that you had.

“Mi princesa,” she whispered roughly. “I could spend 100 lifetimes loving you and it wouldn’t be enough. I do not care what you think I deserve. I love you. I want you. You do not need to earn my love, mi princesa. You have it. Always. For the rest of your life, for the rest of time. You just have it.” 

Ingrid pushed her face into Mapi’s sweatshirt, her tears quietly soaking into the soft fabric. She looked so unlike herself, all broken and small. She clearly craved the reassurance, but was terrified to accept it. 

You swallowed thickly, running your hand through her thick hair in an effort to get her to look at you. She didn't look up, but you spoke anyway. “Ingrid, where is this coming from? Did we do something to make you feel like this?” 

Her voice was muffled but still audibly distraught when she replied. “No, I know you love me. I know you want me. I just… I don't always understand why. All I can see are my flaws, all the things I do wrong, and I hate myself for them. If I let you take care of me… you’ll see them too.” 

It was so absurd, you wanted to laugh. You didn’t, though. You just took a deep breath, thinking that the agonized expression on Mapi’s face probably matched yours right now.

 “Ingrid… I don’t know what flaws you see in yourself. You are as close to perfection as I have ever seen a person get.” You rolled your eyes at Mapi’s slight pout at your statement. “Anything you consider to be a flaw… it's miniscule in the scale of how much we love you. We want you to need us. You don’t need to be completely put together all the time. You don’t need to suffer by yourself just because you deem your stressors insignificant in comparison to ours.”

“Amor, you can always lean on us. Even if my knee is fucked. I don’t need two working legs to take care of you. There is no flaw, nothing in the world that you could do that would make us not want you. That would make us see you any differently than we do now. You are ours. That will never change, mi amor, never.” 

You were startled to see tears welling in Mapi’s eyes, but you understood. It was painful to see someone you loved so much feel so awful, and keep it from you. It was painful to realize you’d missed something because you were too wrapped up in yourself to pay enough attention and realize what was going on sooner. 

“We have to do better, sí? It is not enough to tell you that we love you. We have to remind you of why, and we will, mi princesa, I promise you We will.” Mapi whispered, her voice thick with emotion, and holding a quiet promise, one that was clear to Ingrid. And really, if anyone could fix this horrible way of thinking she knew she shouldn’t engage in, it would be the two of you. 

“Tomorrow is Ingrid day.” You declared. “We’ll do whatever you want. We’ll spend the whole day telling you what we love about you, if that’s what it takes.” 

Ingrid let out a choked laugh, allowing Mapi to gently wipe her tears off her face. “I just want to stay here. And lay with you both. Can we do that?” She asked shyly. 

“Of course we can.” María smiled. “Whatever you want, princesa, I mean it.” 

Ingrid turned her attention to you, allowing some worry to creep back into her gaze. “I want you to rest tomorrow, too.” 

“I will, if that makes you happy.” You promised, smiling softly at her, a smile she returned. 

“You both are perfect.” She said, looking between the two of you like she couldn’t quite believe her luck. 

“Then you are perfect, too. Beautiful.” Mapi leaned up to press a kiss to Ingrid’s lips, murmuring each word in between kisses. “Kind. Hardworking. Perfect, amor. So perfect.” 

You were glad to see the blush on Ingrid’s cheeks, knowing that it meant you’d both gotten through to her, at least a little bit. The Norwegian settled her face into Mapi’s neck, her hand reaching out to twist into your shirt and pull you closer. You fit in next to them so easily. You always would, and so would they. Because maybe you weren’t all actually perfect. You were, however, perfect for each other. 

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this was physically painful to write for no reason and it's short but the words were not flowing. it's done now though and i hope you all like :)

[certainlynotasimp]

can i req miguel and sunshine where she has a BUNCH of hickeys but shes too nice to make fun of so the spiders tease miguel instead?

Just A Taste

(Miguel O' Hara x Female! Reader)

A/N: Omg this is so funny and cute!!! I was kinda struggling writing this because I was like, 'How much is too much for hickeys?'. It's currently hot as hell where I live and so you can tell where that inspo comes from this can be read as a part 2 or a sister fic to Just A Bite. I almost made it an unofficial part 2.25 to Our Girl, but I changed my mind. Also, I'm sorry it's a little short, but I hope you like it.

A/N: I also really wanna try that sorbet thingy where they come in the fruit shells if you know what I'm talking about. If you love this then please check out the master list and if you wanna be kept informed about updates on the Miggy and Sunny series, then comment on this taglist and you'll be added.

WARNINGS: Grumpy x Sunshine, Female reader/ Female pronouns, Barely any use of Y/N ((Sunny is her nickname, not her actual name)), OOC Characters, Flirty Miguel, Some implications of NSFW content, and Google Translated Spanish.

~~~~~~~~

It was very rare that it would get so hot that Miguel would be laid back with the rules. He held everyone to a certain standard when it came to being a part of his elite task force and he was a stickler for them to act like it. Despite this, he only expected three rules to remain to be followed at all times.

All Spidermen can’t travel to other worlds without notice.

Spidermen can’t travel without a mask on to protect the identity of all Spidermen.

Everyone has to wear their spider suits at all times.

Unfortunately, certain circumstances don't really allow certain rules to be followed reasonably. Especially when it involves people with special circumstances.

Such as this.

“Miggy!” A soft whine emits from the chair beside him as the woman sat upside down. Her unmasked face felt hot as a light sheen of sweat made her beautiful face glow against the soft light of the monitor. “It’s so hot…I thought you said Lyla would fix the air hours ago.” 

Miguel rolls his eyes at the sight of her feet lightly hanging over the top of the chair as. “Mi amor, if you stay like that, you’re gonna have a lot more to worry about than a heat stroke.” He playfully pinches her ankle as he grabs a tablet from the table, fanning his own burning skin.

Due to a massive heat wave, Earth-928 was experiencing the hottest summer it has ever had in history, causing Lyla’s A/C system to malfunction. The Lobby was left a broiling mess with Spidermen refusing to come by until the AI’s systems are rebooted. Only a handful of spiders were on base with the residential sweetheart suffering the most since she lives there.

“Can I please take this off?” She moans as she swings up and shoots him those dreaded puppy dog eyes. 

“Oh?” Miguel quirks an eyebrow as his eyelids lower. A playful smile graces his handsome face as he chastises. “I didn’t expect you to be so risky, mi sol.”

A flurry of butterflies spread out in her gut as she glares at Miguel. His response is to chuckle as that pretty glossed lip pokes out as she scolds him, “Not like that, Miguel, and you know it. This suit feels like a furnace and I just want to relax…”

The idea of his cute little lover prancing around in the nude would be an interesting idea to Spiderman, but he knew that his love would never agree to do that with others in the Head Quarters. Miguel bites his lip as he contemplates torturing his arañita some more, but he decides to show mercy as he relents.

“Alright, mi amor.” He sighs as he allows his own suit to dissipate, exposing the tight black tank top and tight athletic pants. “Pero tendrás que cumplir esa pequeña fantasía mía más tarde, mi niña bonita.”

His remark is ignored as she stands up from her cheer with a quiet “fuck yea”. After tinkering with her gizmo, the black and white suit disappears revealing her white tank top and black running shorts, but Miguel couldn’t help but smirk at the blotches of bruises that marred her skin.

Just before he could comment on it, the door opens as a voice complains, “YO BIG MAN! You need to tell that computer to fix this air!”

Another voice accompanies the new yorker's as the tall Brit yells out. “It’s sweltering here, man!”

Ben and Hobie came to a halt as they see their friend smile at them. “Hey, guys!” Sunny calls and waves at them while their faces grow ten degrees hotter.

The poor woman’s entire body was covered in hickeys. Her shoulders and collarbone were littered with several little puncture wounds while her neck had multiple light scratches dragging down. A distinct handprint was present at the base of her neck like a necklace with matching bracelets on her wrists. Her exposed thighs bared no better as the inner sides of her thighs had similar bite marks with a matching set of claw marks on the outside of her thighs. 

Ben swats a hand over his mouth as his hand slams over his horrified mouth while Hobie looks at Miguel in an amused expression. The urge to throw himself into another dimension plagues Miguel’s thoughts as he realizes that he will never live this moment down for the rest of his life. Rubbing his hand over his face in frustration, the oblivious spider turns back to her lover as she tilts her head at why everyone was acting weird. 

“Miggy, are you alright?” She mumbles as Hobie joins them up there with fake concern wrapping around his voice. “Yea, boss, are you alright? You looking a bit flushed, yea?” Hobie struggles to hide the growing laughter in his voice as Miguel throws him a nasty glare. 

The punk was never afraid of getting under his leader’s skin, but his ego really took over when he knows his boss would definitely not do anything while his missus was right there watching him. Ben also decides to join the fun by remarking, “Yea, you look like you need something to blow off that steam. Maybe a little taste of something sweet, right?” He teases as he figures he was safe.

Unfortunately, he unknowingly sparked an idea in the naive spider’s mind. She claps her hands in excitement as she exclaims, “That’s a great idea, Ben! I think I have some sorbets in the freezer of Miguel’s apartment.” 

Miguel wickedly smirks as he realizes that he may have an opportunity to exact some revenge as the two other boys tried to reason with her to stay. 

“Oh wait, Sunny, You really don’t have to..”

“Yea, Love. We are fine really!”

The boys try to reassure her that she didn’t need to travel all that way to get some ice cream before a smooth voice says, 

“Es una idea maravillosa, mi amor.” Miguel praises as his love’s smile brightens in response. “¿Por qué no vas a buscarme a mí ya ti ya que estos dos quieren ser miserables en este momento, de acuerdo?” He coos causing the woman to swoon at his soft tone.

“Alrighty, Miggy.” She grins as she opens the portal with her gizmo. The boys’ hearts stop in their chests as the little spider ignores their pleas to stay and happily skips through the portal to Miguel’s apartment. 

“Now then…” Miguel’s menacing voice twists around his cruel smile as he looks at the trembling boys. “What is it that you guys wanted to talk about?” 

Yep, they are fucked.

~~~~~~~

As the portal reopens on the observation deck, a smiling jumping spider comes back through with two packages in her hand and two spoons as she calls out, “Miggy, I’m back!”

“Llegando, mi sol.” His voice surprises her as he swings himself back onto the platform. She tilts her head as she begins to ask where he went when she noticed that he was now shirtless with the evidence of what she’s done to him now on full display.

His chest had small dark circles littering his pectorals that created a  trail down his abdomen and his abs, disappearing into the dark brown happy trail that began below his belly button. Upon seeing her stunned face, Miguel chuckles as he gently takes one of the icy treats from her shaking hands and a spoon before sitting down in his chair. 

“Gracias Amor.” He says nonchalantly as he rips open the packaging and starts eating the sorbet from its fruit shell.

“N-no problem, Miggy..” She sits beside him and opens her treat as she avoids looking at his powerful back muscles as they flex and move as he ate the sugary sweet. She almost drops the damned thing after the deep scratches on his shoulder blades reminded her of what they did just the night prior. 

“¿Qué pasa, mami? Miguel mocks as a mischievous smirk causes his fangs to poke out. “¿No te gusta tu sorbete? ¿O hay algo más que te gustaría probar?” He purrs as the spoon in her hand falls to the floor with him chuckling.

“Miguel!” She scolds as she begins to bend over to pick up the spoon as another spoon full of an icy treat. Her stomach flips as Miguel looks at her with his pretty apologetic red eyes as he pokes her pouting lips with his peace offering.

“I’m sorry for teasing, my love. You just look so cute and flustered.” He admits he gives her a soft curl of his lip.

Matching his smile, Sunny opens her mouth and happily accepts his apology with a small moan. She sighs as she lets go of his spoon with a satisfied smile.

“So good!~”

“I’m glad.” He smiles as he dips his own bite and eats it. “Es casi tan dulce como tú…”

“Miggy!” An embarrassed voice shrills as the man laughs with his love.

~~~~~~~~~~

Translations:

arañita - Little spider

Pero tendrás que cumplir esa pequeña fantasía mía más tarde, mi niña bonita.--But, you are gonna have to fulfill that little fantasy of mine later, my pretty girl.

Es una idea maravillosa, mi amor.- That's a wonderful idea, my love.

¿Por qué no vas a buscarme a mí ya ti ya que estos dos quieren ser miserables en este momento, de acuerdo? -Why don't you go get me and you some since these two want to be miserable right now, alright?

Llegando, mi sol.- Coming, my sun.

Thank you,love- Gracias amor

¿Qué pasa, mami?- What's a matter, mami?

Es casi tan dulce como tú…–It's almost as sweet as you...

~~~~~~~~~~

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[hyunjin-mylove]

First morning of forever

You open your eyes to a brightly lit room. The morning sun coming in through the balcony doors that have been left open.

As your eyes adjust to the morning, you take in the room. The hotel sheets are warm and soft around you. Clothes litter the floor - your cheeks flush at the memories of last night. A water bottle has been left on your bedside table and you sit up to take a sip. The breeze from the open doors spreads goosebumps down your bare arms. It's then that you notice the empty spot next to you in the bed, quickly losing warmth.

You look over to the balcony, spotting your husband of not even 24 full hours. Instantly, you're warmed by the image of his figure standing out on the balcony, taking in the world below. His tan skin glows in the morning sunlight, almost like he's some angel and not a mere mortal. Hyunjin always had that aura about him and you were left completely speechless every time you recognized it. The silky robe he threw on when he got out of bed sways gently as another breeze rolls in. This time, you barely notice, too enraptured by the man you get to call your husband.

The ring on his finger sparkles in the sun, catching your eye. A smile finds its way to your lips as you recall how excited you were to put it on him the day before that your hands couldn't stop shaking until he guided your hands to his. Tears begin to well up as you recite his vows in your head, poetic by nature, and you need to lean back into the pillows to brunt the force of love and emotions hitting you all at once.

As if sensing you've awoken, Hyunjin turns to meet your eyes with his own. A gentle smile graces his face as he carefully takes in his bride. You're sure your hair is a mess and your pajamas were never the cutest, but there was not a hint of judgement in his eyes. The sun hit his eyes in such a way that plain old brown could no longer describe them, but no matter what colour they were, pure love was all you could see in them. It was all you'd ever seen when he looked at you.

Gracefully, almost as if he's floating, his long legs take him to the bed where you lay. He sits next to you and cups your face in his large hands. A kiss is pressed to your forehead and his thumbs swipe away the tears that fell when you closed your eyes in contentment at being held by him.

"Good morning, my love," he mumbles against your hairline. Hyunjin pulls away to look you in your eyes once again. "Happy tears or sad?"

"Happy," comes your wet reply. The grin on your face pulls at your cheeks in a way that you know he's restraining himself from pinching. "So very happy. Just overwhelmed by how much I love you."

You watch as tears begin to well up in his own eyes at your admission before he finds refuge in your hair. Even now that you're finally married, those three words coming from your mouth will always overwhelm him. His arms squeeze you close. The warmth radiating from him is grounding on this gentle, early morning.

Hyunjin's response comes as soft words whispered into your hair.

"You have no idea just the depths of my love for you. I meant what I said yesterday when I said I'm with you until the end. You've taken my heart and soul; I cannot live without you."

You gently push him away so you can see his face. He easily goes but before he can continue his speech, you pull him to your lips. The kiss is wet, both of your tears mixing on each other's cheeks, but it is no less gentle than he promised the day he learned your first kiss would be his to cherish. His hands find their home on your cheek and around your waist as you wrap your arms around his neck. Your grip pulls him even closer to you, where he's practically laying on top of you, but it's exactly where you both want him to be. The plans he made for your first day as a married couple can wait, if it means you can stay in each other's embrace a little longer.

Hi!! Thank you so much for reading! The moment those pictures were released, all I could imagine was what it would be like to wake up to him the first morning of your honeymoon and this is what came about :)

[deathbyathousandspiders]

Hey so I don't usually request so sorry if this is a mess but can you do how Peter Parker would deal with you being dusted right in his arms and the aftermath of how he'd cope. (Even better if your starks daughter and they share the grief)

okay so i wrote this with you and peter getting dusted and how tony would cope, but pt. two will be how you and peter cope with tony’s death🤭🤭

i promise it’s still angsty!

WARNINGS – gory, angsty asf, rewriting the ending of infinity war so if you watched it recently it might feel repetitive, i forget if there’s swearing but here you go just in case<3

✨masterlist.✨

1.5k.

You knew it was risky to follow Tony and the wizard that morning. God, you knew it was risky. It’d been like any other morning–out for a run with your dad: talking about projects, talking about his engagement to Pepper, watching the immediate protective shift he had when a portal appeared on the shoreline path in front of you.

The grave look on his face said it all.

And you knew the risks. You’d signed up for these kinds of dangers when you were born with the Stark name. It was a target sewn to your back by DNA. The same genes gave you the stubborn spirit to sneak onto an alien spacecraft to help your dad; genes that made you look like the spitting image of him when you’d found out Peter Parker also had the same idea.

In hindsight, you were glad your boyfriend made the trip. It made you feel better protected.

Especially seeing as you lost.

If someone were to tell you on your run that morning that you’d take a punch to the gut and a dagger to the thigh by later that evening, you would stand speechless. If someone were to have told you that you’d lose this badly, and nearly lose your dad in the process, you wouldn’t believe them.

Laying on the dry–graveled surface of whatever planet this was, you pushed yourself up as high as you could. Your upper thigh screamed with blood and the burn of a fresh cut. It was the deepest one you’d ever received. A hushed whimper forced a response out of you at the feeling, making your father turn his attention towards you.

You regretted even being there the second it all happened.

With his head turned to his left, toward you, Tony lost his footing, meeting the fatal kiss of Thanos’ dagger right to the stomach. You watched the blood instantly choke out through his lips, and the way he stammered back as the purple giant shoved him harshly into a rock.

“NO!!” You shouted, as if your cry stop it. As if it would save him. You couldn’t lose your father. You couldn’t live without him. You didn’t even want to think of the possible outcome.

One of your arms gave out, shoving you face–first back into the ground beneath you. Your eyes welled with tears, and you tried to fight against your own pain to make your way over, to say goodbye. To try and fix this. You had to fix this.

“Stop!” The world stilled as Dr. Strange spoke up “Spare his life..” Dr. Strange sat up, pained. Pained and protesting, but willing. The tone of his voice gave you chills. “And I’ll give you the stone.” It wasn’t a request, nor a bargain, rather than a demand.

“No tricks?” The single drop of blood glistened off Thanos’ temple in the several setting suns of the planet, highlighting how little patience Thanos had left, too. Highlighting just how much Tony Stark bled out at his mercy beside him.

Without a word, Stephen maneuvered the air and the Time Stone appeared between his thumb and his first finger.

And thus, Thanos agreed.

In a manner of moments, you’d pressed yourself off the ground, standing. You used some tech your father lent you to spray some sort of temporary stitch–up over your wound for the time being. Looking up, you met your father’s eyes and saw the stabbed indent disappear. Dr. Strange handed the stone over with a white flag and a twinge of regret. You felt the world shift as it happened, the gravity of it growing heavy.

Everything you knew was changing.

Thanos vanished, leaving you all to sit in the feeling and process what had happened. You felt it in your gut that this loss would be horrendous, but the only thing that ran through your mind was making sure your dad was okay.

Limping, you rushed over as quickly as you could, hugging him with all the strength you had to muster. You didn’t care that you were crying. You didn’t care that your body was lined with dirt and blood and bruises. You held him tightly, and kept yourself from processing what the hell happened. Kept yourself from the distraction of Peter Quill blasting the space that Thanos just stood in.

“Did we just lose?” He asked, misery and frustration and denial clear in his voice.

But you and Tony ignored him. Your father held your face in his hands, taking you in with the fear that it might be his last time ever doing so. “Whatever happens, I love you.” He told you, and the words tattooed in your memory and stood alone among anything else he’d ever told you. You cling to them with every ounce of energy you had left.

“Whatever happens, I love you too.” You repeated back to him, ignoring the trembling in your lip.

Peter rushed over to the two of you, hugging both of you tightly. Both your dad and Peter helped you stand upright, but Tony handed you off to Peter while he confronted the wizard.

Tony looked at Strange with a look of both gratitude and confusion. “Why would you do that?”

“It was the only way.” Dr. Strange took a few shaky breaths, his expression unreadable. “We’re in the endgame now..” Was the only response he allowed, the universe allowed.

“Uhh, Mister Stark!” Peter called out, his grip morphing on you. The way he held you suddenly got tighter, more secure, more protective; as if you slipped through his fingers, or you would, or you were dying. His breath quickened, like something grave was happening. “Mister Stark!! Something’s happening!”

Tony didn’t waste a second before he walked over to the two of you, watching as Peter lowered you to the ground, cradling you in his arms. Nothing was happening, as far as you were aware, you didn’t feel anything. And Tony didn’t see anything.

But the sweat that traced Peter’s temple wasn’t something unnoticed. The way he held you, the way he looked at you, Tony knew Peter was sensing the state of their loss. “Kid?” Tony asked, sitting beside you two, grabbing one of your hands and squeezing Peter’s shoulder with the other. “Kid, what’s happening?”

Peter was between hyperventilating and being entirely speechless. His head shook rapidly, glancing from you and Tony. “I’m not–” Tears lined his eyes, quick to run down his face. “I’m not sure.. But I don’t–”

“Something’s happening.”

Each of you turned to Mantis as she spoke, soon obliterating, turning to dust on spot and dissipate into nothing. She was simply gone.

Panic. Pure panic flooded the air.

Drax’s focus went to his hand as it started in his fingers, his hand disappearing. “Quill?” His tone was nothing but concernment, uncertainty. Then he was gone, too.

“Steady, Quill.” Your dad quipped, watching the space where Peter Quill stood.

It started in his legs, traveling up his body as he turned into the same textured substance. “Oh, man..” And his face lingered, imprinting the dust before blowing off with the breeze.

“Tony..” Stephen spoke up, seeing the look in your dad’s eyes. Seeing the thoughts as they ran courses, miles, laps in Tony’s head. “It was the only way.” He repeated. His tone was apologetic as he, too, fractured into immeasurable pieces. His body turned to molecules, fading into the air.

Peter swallowed thickly, beads of sweat dripping from his hairline. His knuckles were white around your hand as you brought them to your lips and kissed it. You weakly squeezed your father’s hand, smiling up at the both of them. “I love you guys.” And as if you knew what was happening, spouting from your legs and spreading to your fingers, you turned to dust, too.

Your father tried to catch it, squeezing his fingers tightly around the space your hand had just been. He felt tears sting his eyes as you vanished in front of him. His whole world, his daughter, gone in a matter of seconds.

“Mister Stark..” Peter broke the deafening silence. “I don’t–” His eyes studied the hand that had just held yours, eyes glossy with grief and denial. “I don’t feel so good..”

His breaths were choked, ached, agonized as his legs gave way. Tony watched the way he turned to dust just as everyone else had. He kept hold of Peter’s shoulder, speechless. Tony couldn’t comprehend what was happening.

Peter looked to him, panicked. Completely and utterly panicked. “I don’t wanna go.” He repeated the phrase like it was all he knew, “I don’t wanna go. I don’t wanna go, I don’t wanna go–” And when the pain became immeasurable, undeniable; when his fate was sealed, he took a final breath, clenching his jaw to try and keep himself from breaking in his final moment. “I’m sorry..” And just like that, he was gone.

He was gone, and Tony was alone. He stared at Nebula, nervous that if he looked away, she’d disappear too. The two didn’t know each other well at all, but her company was something he grasped onto like water. He clung to anything and everything she had to offer, hoping to God they’d make it out of this.

He wasn’t sure how he was going to live without you, but knew he needed to. If there was any shot or hope or reality of getting you back, Tony needed to get to it. He had to find it, and he wouldn’t rest until he did.

[hwaightme]

With you

(masterlist) (taglist)

🫂 pairing: bf!seonghwa x gn!reader 🫂 genre: comfort, healing from hurt, established long-term relationship, fluff 🫂 summary: even when it feels like the world is crashing down, seonghwa was, is and will be with you. 🫂 wordcount: 2.3k total 🫂 warnings/tags: not edited, implied work challenges, clutter, focus, negative self-perception, crying, negative self-talk, catastrophising, physical/mental health, hugs, sharing struggles, unconditional love, supporting loved ones in darkness, feeling overwhelmed, love does not have a limit or price 🫂 taglist: at the bottom of the fic 🫂 a/n: this one was in the drafts, and now completed in a flurry, perhaps having waited for its time. hope you find comfort in this, and have love and your safe space. any notes, reblogs, comments are always appreciated. much love.

Sometimes, people said it was “not their day” - much like a sudden downpour. Sometimes, they could even say that it was “not their week” - much like a rainy season. For you, well, for you it was starting to turn into “not your life” - a perpetual cacophony of droplets pelting down and taking you with them. Perhaps when you were a child you did not pay much attention to your habits and your natural pitfalls, but as you entered adulthood and launched yourself headfirst into the corporate workforce to play the role of a diligent office worker earning your share and volunteered to take more and more responsibilities in every aspect of life outside of nine to five, cursed quirks were becoming harder and harder to ignore, or rather, to hide.

And this was exactly why you had found yourself in the darkness of your room, wanting to be abandoned by the world, staring at the ceiling and only seeing your mistakes and what had to be overreactions that were accumulating into a colossus faster than a snowball rolling down a hill. Nothing was right, and every single time, you were the one to blame. You couldn’t even change out of your work clothes into what, in your happier times, you called your favourite pyjamas - maybe it was because you were afraid to ruin them too. A rational thought? No. But it somehow ended up making more sense than the bingo card of emotional rollercoaster-inducing nightmares that kept on being filled out.

You did not want to count the minutes, possibly hours that you spent suspended in your own dread and misery. The time must have been considerable, since you could hear the turning of a key, and the slow opening of the front door to welcome none other than the subject of one of your present flavours of despair. Anticipating disaster, you curled up into a ball on the cold, now messy bed, and tried your best to force any tears away. Sleeves rubbing at wet cheeks and eyes, you did not want your boyfriend to see you like this. Weak, helpless, broken. Worn down into nothing more than the clumsy disappointment with medical bills and chaotic thought processes you actually have been all along. What a tragic ‘big reveal’. Absorbing everything around you and spilling out everything brewing within - you should have trusted those who had told you that you would make anyone and everyone run away. Who would want someone who couldn’t sort out their own messes before making another? Who would be able to stand someone who could barely last a day before ruining a piece of clothing, losing or breaking something, and on the better days almost guaranteeing a stain in the oddest place or some kind of trail of a sloppy existence? How could anyone rely on you when you could not even sort out your own noise?

With a trembling lip, you watched scenarios flash before your sore eyes of how Seonghwa would undoubtedly hate you. And when you heard a sigh travel from the corridor and crash against your eardrums, you knew that at the end of the day, all those people who had been saying the same thing over, and over, and over again to you were right. Until knuckles were starting to turn white you clutched at the material of the throw that had been lying on top of the sheets - without a doubt a protective measure, and here you were, ruining things. Never in anyone’s plans, you were an elephant in a porcelain shop. An elephant who should be put far, far away from anything human. An insensitive crybaby who both physically and mentally represented discord. You couldn’t even-

“Y/N, how many times did I tell you to not leave your shoes at the-”

Here. It. Was. The end. It had to be. It had to be the grand finale to what sliver of happiness you had left in your life. The little bit of festive cheer was already starting to evaporate, you could sense it. Soon, he would utter the words you had imagined many times. Soon, you would be alone and lonely. Soon, you would be where you were supposed to be according to what others established you deserved. You couldn’t breathe, with your back turned to the door, you could only sense your boyfriend’s presence, and catch the hint of a shadow falling over your frail, exhausted form. 

“-Y/N?”

You did not dare answer, no matter how sweet, or how supposedly concerned Seonghwa sounded. He could be coaxing you out of your cave to scold you, or better yet, recite all the words you despised, but had grown used to hearing. The only thing on your mind was the thousand things you managed to ‘achieve’ today. One of them included those shoes.

“Hey… talk to me,” voice more gentle, barely above a whisper, floats across the room and practically caresses your head. You couldn’t move. He would be disappointed even more if you were to do anything. You should pretend you were just a pile of laundry, maybe then it would all stop and you wouldn’t be out here losing buttons, breaking baubles and scratching up perfectly good heels. 

You sensed a dip on the bed. A warm presence. Your boyfriend scooted closer to you until you could feel him leaning over towards you, his chest hovering just above your side. The most impossible feat in the world was to hide yourself from him, but you could not help but try with all your might. A shiver jolted over your body despite you still being in a woollen sweater, resulting in a familiar, loving hand finding purchase on your upper arm. The thumb traced abstract shapes in a soothing motion, and soon enough, you were being turned a little ways backwards. Face to face with fear, you felt the tears that had stalled in a panic threatening to spill over once again.

“Have you… have you been crying?” despite being in the semi-darkness, the glistening trails on your cheeks must have given you away. One peck, another delivered by Seonghwa’s plush lips while a soft hand positioned itself on the side of your face, preventing you from hiding yourself, “...oh baby please, tell me, what happened?” 

Your eyes bore into his, not dissimilar to a deer caught in the headlights, as though you had been spotted committing a crime. While you had been in a relationship with a man who you swore was an angel for a considerable amount of time, so substantial in fact that you had a shared lease under both of your names like proper adults sometimes decided to do, there was one thing that you could not bear to do - burden him with your troubles. You could not allow yourself to complain, instead choosing to bottle up all the miniature disasters into one catastrophic potion, waiting until it bubbles over and only then crawling towards salvation in the form of a long shower where no one could hear you cry. It had to be you who was wrong, anyways. It was always you. Even in things that were meant to be outside of your control, you felt guilty, repeating this to yourself until illusion became fact.

It was always you who had forgotten to take something out to defrost or had not checked the mail again. Always you who had not put some abstract item away, or you did but not in the right place. Always you who had not found the energy or the time to clean something or to water the plants. It was you and your family and your friends who had to untie Gordian knots, and you were the weakling who cried, and cried and cried while others seemed to be able to stand tall and face any challenge. In the inevitable times of a storm, be it your own or another’s you were the thin and hollow piece of straw that was bent in the wind and all the previous beauty crumbled to join the rotting ground. Your inner voice was loud and hurtful, blockading you from believing in anything else except the fact that you could not handle a simple twenty four hours. A tiny piece of news, a tiny little change be it in schedule or tone, a little hurdle all had the capability to ruin you and make you fall, leading you to how you were now. Did you try to manage? Of course you did, always. Was it enough? Never.

“Hug?” There it was. An offer that could never be refused. Perhaps this was the last ever time you would be allowed to come so close to the love of your life. Heart to heart, the delightful, comforting scent of vanilla being the only thing on the senses.

With a quick gesture, Seonghwa encouraged you to roll over completely, and lift yourself so he could wrap his arms around you, as though sheltering you from a storm. His chin nestled into the crook of your neck, and he tightened his embrace until you had no choice but to give into the comfort. Tired body and mind, unwinding at his touch, falling apart only to be rebuilt again, better, brighter, warmer. The long-awaited spring. Legs folded, you wriggled to close whatever space was left between your bodies, grabbing a fistful of his black turtleneck sweater as though to confirm that this wonderful man was real. Indeed, he was. More than real. As real as the kiss he planted on your cheek. As real as the reassurance that poured from his soul without any words uttered. Well, none except:

“Let’s walk through it, okay?”

Your head - fuzzy from the overflowing tears and emotional haze. Your eyes, puffed up and reddened. And even then, Seonghwa was looking at you as though you were the one to hang the moon and the stars. How could you dare disappoint him and bring him down by being such a disaster? You could feel another burst of terror and despair welling up and threatening to spill over, and it appeared that your boyfriend did too, for the speed with which he pressed you impossibly close to himself was beyond your comprehension. It was as if he was trying to squeeze every bit of pain out of you, sorry that you had to feel what you were feeling, sorry that he could not take it away.

“I’m with you, Y/N. I’m always with you…” soft whispers - sharp swords on your dark consciousness, slashing at the demons that had been rearing their ugly heads again and again for however long. You had stopped counting after a couple weeks, pretending that they could be kept under control. Again, how wrong you were.

He was neat. Seonghwa was borderline pedantic at times, but you were convinced that that was the exact reason why the walls of your home had not come down yet. But, if it meant that you would be calmer, and you could see more sunshine in your inner world, he would let you cry into every single sweater, every single shirt, and would never dare let you go. If there was one thing he was infuriated by, was by whatever or whoever had ingrained in you that hiding was the same as powering through.

“I’m done, Seonghwa… I’m so tired…” you sobbed into the warmth of his chest, allowing for everything you had been holding back to flow through and out of you.

“We’re together, so we will make it through. Through everything. Whatever happens, happens so that the future can happen. We will power through it,” he repeated the words like a mantra, aware of the turmoil that he had to combat to get to you, but was going to never give up trying. 

“I feel… so small…”

“We can do it,” he cut you off, planting another velvety peck on your head before rocking gently side to side, running a hand over and over again down your back.

“So… so small…” the words disappeared, swallowed by an indescribable void that came with the onset of fatigue.

“I love you so much, Y/N. You hear me?” How could he? This was a question you would never be able to answer, but you thanked every part of the universe for giving such a blessing to you.

“I- I love you so… so much too…”

“So you and I, right now, we will lie right here, breathe, and then put all of the little pieces in order okay?”

“O-okay.”

“We share everything. Mhm?”

“Everything…”

A silence. Pangs of fatigue and worry about everything under the sun were not yet abating, but were becoming easier to manage as you focused on Seonghwa’s steady breathing, and the rhythmic thrum of his golden heart. You pulled away, admiring every part of him, not wanting to focus on anything else. You drifted into a trance, sinking deeper and deeper into his adoring gaze, unbroken. His hands found yours, thumbs tracing your skin in that same lulling way. You watched his lips as they let another miracle wash over you:

“I am so happy that I am with you.”“Even-”

“Especially. We. Yeah? We. And because we are ‘we’, we will make it through everything.”

The words echoed in your mind as you gave the love of your life a tiny smile. Your person. The one who was always on your team, even when you tried to delude yourself into thinking the opposite. He was here. With you. Through all the downs, through all the ups. When you know what is happening and when you need a little more time to figure things out. You and Seonghwa are here and will be here. Together.

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[pipi-un-kaki-in-pipi-land]

Hmmm wat about slayer hcs where the Hashiras react to their S/O saying "I love you" ?

demon slayer hcs // hashiras reacting to you saying “i love you”

ty anon for this rq!

wc: 600>

Tengen

he was probably shocked when u said that

laughs like a buffoon because it was so sudden

then smugly praises himself for being the most perfect man ever

returns his affection to you through small kisses & hugs, holding u close and never letting go

Muichiro

was eating his Sakura mochi when u suddenly blabbered that out

looks at you for a split second then continues eating as if he just forgot whatever you said

he wasn’t used to compliments, let alone being in a relationship with you

he replies with an awkward thanks as he gives you a bite of his food

while you smiled at the tastiness, he smiled back in warmth without you noticing

Shinobu

she was experimenting on antidotes in the room when you just shouted it from the other end

she nearly dropped the glass beaker she was holding as her eyes slightly widened

you were the first person who ever said that besides her family

she was planning to go to you, but you’d already skedaddled to her on your mesh chair

she plants a kiss on your lips, expressing her gratitude for you

she goes on to continue her work, leaving you in a hot mess

Kyojuro

you were admiring him gobbling up his bento that you made for him when you said it

he already had a pleasant expression on his face before, so that made him even happier

he returns the compliment loudly but you quickly covered his mouth as you were scared people heard

“let them acknowledge my fervent affection for you, y/n. my eternal flame.”

those words of his made you blush even more as you buried your face into his neck

he smiled as he ran his fingers through your delicate waves of hair

Giyu

nearly choked on his water, and when i say nearly, i meant he was REALLY flabbergasted by those sudden words

he instantly looked away, though you couldn’t see his face, you could sense a blush sprawling over his features

he was too stunned to speak as he downed his waves of emotions with water

a stuttery “thanks” was all he could say as he forced a smile out of his usual monotone face

“don’t need to take it personal darling,” you smiled as you ruffled your fingers through his hair

that left him even more head over heels for you

Mitsuri

the both of you were admiring cherry blossom trees when you just said it

a squeal instantly came out of her as she quickly hid her blushed cheeks with her hands

you couldn’t help but laugh as you inched closer to her

“i love you ten thousand times more, y/n!” she giggled cheerfully, cupping your pink cheeks

“if i were dared to shout to the world how much i loved you, i would simply whisper it in your ear,” you said, gently removing her hands and pressing your lips on hers

the rest of the morning was history

Sanemi

you guys had just finished your daily training when you said it

he shot you with a confused glance at first; you could tell this took him by surprise

“yeah, no shit you do.” he gave you a sarcastic response, but you could tell that deep down he was touched by your sudden words

he suddenly came closer to you and grazed your nape as you pulled his refined body to yours

“’nemi.. we’re in public-” your breath hitched as he held you by the waist

needless to say, you were ignored

Iguro

the both of you had just taken down a powerful demon when you started sobbing in pride and said it without noticing

his eyes widened ever so slightly; nobody ever told him that. not even his own family

he couldn't even bear to call them 'family' anymore. after the horrendous things they'd done to him

he teared up a little at the thought, but quickly rubbed it away with the hems of his haori as he didn't want you to portray him as someone weak.

unfortunately for him, you had noticed him reminiscing in his own sad thoughts all this while

you wiped away your own tears of joy and headed to him, burying his head in your arms as you comforted him with headpats

"thank you, y/n. i could not have asked for someone better than you."

[dandylovesturtles]

just a little A Team hurt/comfort

------

Raph knocked over some moving boxes during their last shouting match - he spares them a guilty glance as he walks past. Someone has tried to clean up the mess (Mikey, most likely), but he can still tell that they were recently upended and their contents left scattered on the ground.

He knows this is why they told him to go get Leo for breakfast. They want this to be a peace offering. Raph would like for it to be a peace offering, too, but...

Well, it's not like he likes fighting with Leo. Things are just... complicated.

He makes it to Leo's train car, and takes a deep breath before pulling the curtain back. He can do this. One civil interaction.

Leo's already awake, scrolling through his phone. That's in his favor - Leo's always grumpy if you wake him up. At least this way, Raph doesn't have to.

"Hey Leo," he says, and his brother flicks his eyes up from the phone screen. "Breakfast in five. Mikey made waffles."

"Oh, sweet," says Leo. He grins, but even Raph can tell it's forced. "I'll be there in a sec - just checkin' the socials."

And for a moment, Raph almost says something; says that he's sorry, and he takes back everything he said, and Leo should just forget about it, not worry about it, he doesn't want to fight anymore and this is stupid-

And then he thinks about Karai, and the Shredder, and their dad, and the far too close call they had to losing each other, New York, the whole world-

And he thinks about Leo skipping training to go skateboarding, Leo showing up late to patrol with a quip and laugh, Leo charging into fights without so much as a word to the rest of them, Leo who can't take anything seriously-

And it dies in his mouth. He says instead, "Yeah, sure. Just get there before it gets cold."

He turns to leave, but before he can, Leo calls out, "Hey, Raph?"

Raph only half turns, looking over his shoulder at Leo. Wondering if, maybe, Leo is going to try to say something instead. Wondering if he finally gets it, or if they're going to start fighting before breakfast.

Maybe Leo is running the same calculations. Raph is sure he is, actually, because Leo's brain twists over words the way Donnie's twists over physics.

So he must come to the same conclusion, because he doesn't say anything about the fight, or training, or his responsibilities, or any of it. What he says is, "Love you, big bro."

And Raph's heart drops into his stomach.

-----

Leo's always been looser with those words than any of the rest of them. Been that way since they were little, and Splinter kept them in the same part of the sewer, sleeping on pallet beds with whatever pillows and sheets he managed to find in the dump.

"Goodnight, Daddy. I love you," said Leo. "Goodnight Raphie, I love you. Goodnight, Donnie..."

The ritual was long - Leo always used three times as many words as other people. Sometimes Splinter would say, "Yes, yes, Blue, now let your brothers sleep." Sometimes Raph would say, "Hurry it up, Leo." Sometimes Donnie would hide his head under his pillow, or smack that same pillow over Leo's face.

Nowadays, Raph misses that: the sincerely sweet way Leo wanted them all to know he loved them.

As he grew older, Leo began using those words more flippantly. "I love you, but" became one of his stock phrases, a way to soften the blow of criticism. "Come on, you know I love you," said to ward off any retaliation after a prank or insult. "Love ya, bye!" rushed out at the end of one of their rare phone calls, a signal he didn't want to talk anymore.

But every now and then, Raph still got the sincere version. When he brought Leo tea the morning after a bad bout of insomnia. When Leo fussed over an injury, gently winding bandages around his arm or leg. When Leo was sleepy after a long Lou Jitsu marathon, and he reverted to the old ritual as Raph tucked him into bed: "Goodnight, I love you."

The "love you" Leo says to him now, in his room, before breakfast, with the mess of their last big fight barely cleaned up, is none of those.

The "love you" Leo says now is a question.

He doesn't pronounce it like a question. There's no upward lilt to his voice. He doesn't end it by asking if Raph knows. But Raph can still hear it, buried deep in Leo's tone: he's not sure. About loving Raph? About being loved? About what there still is between them?

Raph loves Leo. He loves him so much it aches. It's why he knocked the box over. It's why he wants to knock another ten boxes over. It's why he just needs Leo to understand, to hear him, to see what he sees when he closes his eyes and sees Karai, and the Shredder, and their family almost-

But here they are. With Leo saying "love you" like it's a question and Raph doesn't know the right answer.

"Yeah," he says. "Breakfast in five," he says.

He doesn't know the right answer but he does know that wasn't it.

He leaves Leo in his room, and goes back to his own. Puts his face in his hands. He sees Karai.

He knocks another box over.

-----

Leo's hand is a tiny thing in his. It's also, maybe, the only part of his body that isn't broken. Not like his legs, his arms, his shell, his jaw, his neck-

Raph can't look at his neck. The bruise there makes him want to throw up.

Leo's been out of critical condition for almost two full days. It hasn't made any of them less on edge, and they still spend most of their time crowded in the med bay, watching Leo's chest like it will stop rising the moment they turn their backs.

But Leo's heart doesn't stop, and he breathes in and out, and Raph holds his hand and strokes the back of it with his thumb.

He'd wanted Leo to understand.

He hadn't wanted this to be how Leo learned.

When he closes his eyes now he sees Leo right next to Karai, and he has to touch Leo again, to make sure he's still really there.

Movement from the bed, and a soft noise. Raph's gaze trails up from Leo's hand to his eyes, open but heavy lidded, clouded with a haze of exhaustion and medicine.

"Hey, Leo," he says, trying to keep his tone upbeat despite it all. "You're home; you're safe."

"Mm," hums Leo, still sleepy. He twists the hand that Raph's holding, adjusting his grip so it's wrapped around Raph's thumb. He strokes at Raph the way Raph had just been doing for him, and Raph feels tears sting his eyes.

"Love you, Raphie," says Leo, and this time, there's not a hint of uncertainty.

Raph's heart lurches again. Whatever answer Leo had been looking for last time, he must have found it.

But.

Raph doesn't plan to leave anything to chance. Not anymore.

"Love you too, Leo." He leans in, press his forehead to the top of Leo's head. "I love you, too."

Leo makes a pleased noise, low in his throat. He's already sinking back into sleep, his grip on Raph's hand growing loose. His breaths are still steady and even, heart beating strong, the look on his face peaceful.

"Goodnight, Leo," says Raph. "I love you."

[katyaromanoffpetrova]

Is this the end? (part I)

Katya is new at SHIELD. When she messes up during her probation, she thinks Fury will send her away. To ease the pain, she distances herself from Nat.

• Natasha Romanoff x Fem!OC • Wordcount: 2.6k • Warnings: angst, mentions of self-harm (not detailed) •A/N: I couldn't fit everything into one post, so there will be a part two in a few day's time :) Masterlist

Do not repost my work as your own or translate my work!!

2007

The Triskelion slowly emerged in the distance. Tall, massive, impressive. A building fit for a strong organization like SHIELD. A statement to scare off their enemies.

It used to intimidate Katya too, back when she worked for that enemy. All Hydra agents were warned to stay far away from SHIELD HQ, unless they wanted to die. 

But in the past few months, it had amazingly become her safe space. A place where she could breathe for the first time in her life. A place she eagerly returned to.

Not right now, though. 

On this sunny, late afternoon in cold November, Katya dreaded landing the Quinjet on the flight deck and getting out. Her hands shook as she pressed the buttons and flipped the switches, forcing her breathing to stay normal so the SHIELD agent in the co-pilot seat wasn't alerted of her anxiety. 

She failed her mission. She messed up. Badly. She let Fury down. 

And she was still on probation. 

Her boss was very clear; make one mistake and she's out. And Fury always meant what he said. Always.

Katya didn't think she could keep going if she was kicked out of the one place that showed her kindness. If she was forced to say goodbye to the love of her life once more. 

That was the worst of it all; her failure would come back on Natasha. Natasha who was responsible for her. Natasha who promised Fury that Katya was fit for duty. Natasha who had faith in her to become a better person.

Not only had Katya let herself, the safety of the world, and her boss down, she had disappointed the woman she loved. And that stung more than anything.

The Quinjet barely wobbled as it touched the ground—at least she could do one thing right—and Katya helped her co-pilot with the shutdown procedure before lifting her heavy body out of the pilot seat. 

She didn't want to go out there. As long as she was in the jet, she was safe from being fired. Or she could pretend that she was safe, at least. So Katya took her sweet time collecting her things, triple checking that the Quinjet was ready for its next use before reluctantly making her way outside. 

Her anxiety was miles high as she crossed the flight deck. She felt like a pig being led to the slaughter. Every step of her booted feet took more effort than the last. Katya kept her gaze ahead and avoided the scared agents that jumped out of her way, refusing to let them see the fear in her eyes. 

She thought about running. It was her first instinct after she managed to escape her mission earlier today. It shouldn't have taken her fifteen minutes to decide to call in a SHIELD pickup, but it did, and she felt so ashamed about it. 

That part of her life was supposed to be over. Done. But it tempted her like a line of coke tempted a drug addict. 

Being on the run, being alone, it was so much easier. The only responsibilities she had were to herself. The only person she could disappoint was herself. If she messed up on a shady deal, they would be hunting her for a while, but only her. 

Having people who counted on her was harder than she thought it would be. Emotions were harder than she thought they would be. Her default setting was to isolate and be alone. To run when things were bad.

But she wouldn't take the easy way out this time. She refused to. With a deep inhale, Katya stepped inside the building.

To her surprise, nothing happened. She expected some agent to materialize and take her to Fury, or for people to stare and gossip about her failure. She had even imagined Natasha standing there, a disappointed frown on her face. But life inside SHIELD HQ went on as usual. They barely spared her a glance.

Without further hesitation, Katya mixed with the group heading for the elevators. Maybe if she blended in, she could hide and avoid having her soul broken for a little longer. Maybe, if she was fast enough, she could make it to her room and hide from Natasha as long as possible. 

The agents around her should know how hard her heart pounded as they shuffled away from her. How scared she was. It could be the last time they saw her face. It could be her last day in this building. Her last time riding this elevator. 

Katya's throat closed up. The tiny room suddenly felt extremely crowded. Panic pressed on her lungs. When she arrived at her floor, she bumped some shoulders in her rush to get out. As soon as she crashed through her apartment door, she sank to the floor, shaking.

The silence inside her apartment was terrible. The thoughts in her head sounded ten times as loud in the silence. They were overwhelming. The angry voices screamed at her, calling her a failure, a loser, that she would be better off dead.

She wrapped her arms around her knees in search of comfort. Comfort that she didn't deserve from anyone else.

How did she manage to mess up this badly? The mission Fury gave her was so simple, nothing she hadn't done before. Infiltrate a Hydra building—one Katya had marked as one—and steal some information. In and out. 

But somehow, they spotted her. Katya still didn't know how. She knew nobody could have heard her, or seen her. But the alarms went off and all the exits were blocked. She was trapped with no way out.

It took her locking herself into a room and hotwiring one of the alarm boxes on the walls, to lift the blockades and escape. She ran for five miles through the hills and hid before calling a SHIELD jet to pick her up. 

Now they had seen her face, knew she worked for SHIELD, knew their facility was compromised, and knew what information they were after.

It was the worst thing she could have ever done. She might as well have sent them an email. Fury would not be taking this lightly. 

Katya only noticed she was hyperventilating when someone slammed a door shut down the hall that made her jump. 

She felt ridiculous, rocking back and forth like a baby on the floor of her apartment, but it was her apartment, her safe space. She felt in her bones that she started to belong here, that this was where she should be. So it hurt a million times more, knowing she herself was the reason she would lose it all.

Katya sat on the floor for hours, digging her nails into her arms until welts started to form. Only when dusk set in did she pick herself off the floor, exhausted and covered in cold sweat. Nobody had come to check on her. 

She did her coming-home routine on autopilot. Shower, unpack, turn on her phone that she couldn't take with her on the mission, eat something—even though her stomach was in knots and she felt nauseous.

She had four missed texts from Natasha, each more worried than the last.

Nat (3:44 PM): Welcome back. Hope the mission went according to plan :)

Nat (3:46 PM): Are you okay?

Nat (4:18 PM): Can't get out of this meeting, so I can't check in. Can you let me know if you're alright?

Nat (5:52 PM): I hope you fell asleep. Dinner later? My last meeting ends at 7. If I don't hear anything from you, I'm taking it as a yes.

Guilt started to pile up on Katya's shoulders. She couldn't tell Natasha what happened. She couldn't handle letting her down. She couldn't handle breaking her heart. She couldn't handle having her own heart broken again.

Katya left the messages unanswered. Maybe Natasha would take that as a sign to not come and find her later. 

She didn't. When she showed up at 7 PM and knocked on the door, Katya pretended to be asleep. She stayed "asleep" for the rest of the night and never answered the texts in the morning.

This streak of avoidance continued throughout the week. Katya woke up earlier on purpose, so she finished breakfast right when Natasha walked into the cafeteria. She changed her workout schedule from early mornings to the late evenings to avoid Natasha, who trained in the morning. She walked the other way when she saw Natasha in the hallway. She didn't answer texts, or answered very late. 

When Natasha did manage to talk to her long enough to make plans, Katya canceled them last minute with some lame excuse. 

It stung. It hurt every fiber of Katya's being to ignore Natasha like that. The woman didn't deserve it. She should be getting angry with her, but instead Katya triggered her insecurities too.

When she asked if Katya didn't want her around anymore, the blonde swore she heard her heart shatter.

But this was necessary. Even though Fury still hadn't called her in, Katya knew her exit from SHIELD was close. She needed to create a distance between herself and Natasha beforehand, so it would hurt less when that time came.

"Stop avoiding me."

It was lunchtime, Tuesday, and Natasha had finally managed to corner Katya. Literally. She'd grabbed her wrist in passing and forced her into a random supply closet in the hallway. Her body pressed Katya's against the wall, a fire in her green eyes.

"I'm not. I'm busy," Katya answered with a hint of annoyance, impatiently eyeing the door. She had places to be, people to avoid. 

"Don't lie to me," Natasha bit back, vulnerability in the back of her voice. "We're beyond that."

"Nat." Katya tried, avoiding her gaze at any cost. She didn't want to do this.

"What is going on? You better tell me right now," Natasha demanded.

Katya scowled. "Nothing. Let me go."

"Kat—"

"I said, let me go."

Slowly, Natasha stepped back, giving Katya enough space to escape. The brunette eagerly took advantage of that and slipped back into the hallway. They may not be in a good place, but they always respected each other's boundaries.

Natasha was at a complete loss. The only thing she knew was that everything changed after that mission. If she wanted to know why Katya was avoiding her, the key lay at that mission.

The problem was; her clearance wasn't high enough to get any information. She'd tried to get into the system, but it blocked her. The only thing left to try was going to the person who knew it all.

"I need to know what happened. And no confidentiality bullshit." 

Natasha stood in front of Fury's desk, her arms crossed over her chest. She was angry. At Katya, at herself, at the secrets. She was tired of the emotional rollercoaster, of being left in the dark. She wanted answers, now.

Fury lazily gazed up at her, unimpressed and calm. "It's simple. Petrova failed her mission."

A wave of nausea hit Natasha. Deep down, she wasn't surprised to hear this. She suspected something like this. But actually having it confirmed was something else. She, too, knew what it meant if Katya failed.

"Lots of us fail our missions."

"Correct. But we've also never had a Hydra deserter join us before," Fury said casually, reorganizing some folders on his desk.

Something clicked for Natasha. She didn't know the magnitude of the mission, or Katya's failure. But if Fury was this calm about it, and if Katya was still here, a week later, something else must be going on. As always, the Director of SHIELD had ulterior motives.

"You set her up," she realized with disgust. "You set her up to fail."

Fury didn't blink an eye at her accusation, only proving that she was right. "Only when they face death do people show their true faces."

Natasha boiled with anger, clenching her fists to keep herself contained. He really sent the woman she loved into a building full of hostiles just to prove her loyalty. "She could have died!"

"I knew she could get herself out of that situation."

Natasha had never felt as protective over someone as she did right now. "Katya doesn't deserve your mistrust. She's been loyal since she set foot inside this building. She hasn't lied about anything."

"Loyalty runs deep. We shouldn't underestimate her ties to her former employer."

Natasha swallowed back some nasty words. To call the Director of SHIELD an asshole was risky, even for her. Maybe especially for her.

"If your goal was to make her terrified of losing everything good she found, then you succeeded."

Fury sharply glanced up at her with his one good eye. "We are not a charity, Agent Romanoff. Petrova needs to understand that her stay here isn't guaranteed."

Natasha clenched her teeth together. What an outrageous way to prove a point. "If she has to go, I'm going with her. Just so you understand that too."

"Message received," Fury said dryly, returning his gaze to the desk. "Loud and clear."

A mess of emotions raged in her body as Natasha left his office and legged towards Katya's apartment. It was false hope that sent her there. Hope that her small, meaningless conversation with Fury would calm Katya down enough to talk to her. 

She was still furious at him. Furious for sending Katya into a trap, for mistrusting her, and for being the perfect director. She was angry because she couldn't be angry at him. In his position, it was a logical move to test Katya's loyalty.

But Natasha's love for the woman clouded her judgment. Funnily enough. 

"Open up." Her knocks were fast and impatient on Katya's door. "It's me, and I'm not leaving until you hear me out." She was determined this time, willing to kick the door in, now that she knew why Katya acted so strangely.

To her surprise, Katya opened the door. Her body shielded Natasha's wandering eyes from seeing her apartment. She had dark circles under her eyes, pale skin, and a slow way of moving about her. "What is it?"

Natasha pushed past her before Katya could stop her. It had been a while since she had been in the apartment, and what she saw broke her heart. "Why do you have everything packed?" Katya didn't answer. All her personal belongings were in bags. "You don't have to leave. It was a test. And I think you passed it."

Katya snapped her head up, her eyes suddenly wide awake. "How do you— Ты говорил с ним (You went and talked to him)?"

Natasha was taken aback by her sharp tone. "I—"

"мне не нужна няня (I don't need a babysitter)!" The brunette raised her voice. "I made a mistake during probation. He has every right to send me off, test or not!"

"But it's not a fair test if he set you up to fail!"

"That doesn't matter! Failing still isn't an option! Test or not!"

Natasha thought she would be easing Katya's mind. But the woman only saw failure, clouded by fear. Katya was too terrified to lose everything to think rationally. "You're being too hard on yourself," Natasha continued gently. "You're an amazing agent. All your other missions went perfectly."

Katya huffed, raising her arm to scratch her head. "You can save 20 people, but we both know you only remember the one you killed."

Natasha barely heard her words. When Katya lifted her arm, her short sleeve lifted enough to show red welts on her arms in the form of nails. Clearly self-inflicted. Pointedly, Natasha looked at that arm, the spots now carefully covered. "Nothing is worth doing that to yourself."

Katya watched her go with a broken look in her eyes.

[holllandtrash]

gone | daniel ricciardo

pairing: daniel ricciardo x driver!reader (part 3 to fragile line)

I just know You're not gone You can't be gone

The 2023 season is painful, its challenging and Daniel is still very much in your life in all the ways he shouldn't be.

word count: 9.9k (i dont even know how) warnings/tags: angst, heartbreak, all the painful stuff

“I don’t want to do this anymore.”

“Do what?” 

You exhaled a breath that made your entire body shake, “You know what, Daniel.” 

Of course he did. For the last few months, he was experiencing the exact same things you were. The uncertainty, the tension, the sleepless nights, god you were so tired. 

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. It was supposed to be you and him. You were supposed to be a team. 

So much went wrong, too much. Daniel stood in front of you now as you asked yourself if you were too far gone. 

And you both knew the answer to that one. 

That first race back in Hungary…you were a mess. You probably would have been a little bit more put together had Oliver not pointed out the lineup for the driver’s press conference. 

“You’re kidding,” your jaw dropped, staring at the list. “Who’s smart idea was it to put myself and Daniel together?”

“This is Formula 1,” Oliver sounded apologetic, he did feel bad about the situation. “The FIA doesn’t care if he’s your ex.”

The FIA didn’t care but the entire world watching did. Speculations on what would happen, where you would sit, what would be asked flooded social media. 

When you showed up on Thursday, Lando patted your back and told you to breathe.

“Easier said than done, Lando. I don’t see you being forced to sit with your ex.”

He chuckled at that because you had a point. “Look, I love Danny, but don’t let him get to you, alright?”

Originally, Lando did try to switch the sessions. He talked to Zak, PR, everyone, just because he knew how much you were dreading it. But alas, it was you who was now standing outside the media room, leaning against the wall as you waited to go in and get these next twenty minutes over and done with.

Your plan was to just say as little as possible to everyone. You were banking on the fact that the attention would be solely on Daniel and his return, and that was made clear when he walked into the hallway, getting warm greetings from other drivers and those standing nearby.

He had absolutely no reason to stand next to you, not when there were about ten other people who would have been dying for a few seconds of his time. 

Daniel cleared his throat, hands behind his back as he leaned against the wall as well. 

You counted six seconds before he opened his mouth, speaking to you for the first time since the awards dinner months ago. 

“Not even a hello?” He asked, but he wasn’t the least bit surprised that you were completely avoiding looking in his direction. You ignored him and Daniel laughed to himself at your lack of response.

The door opened again and you took a breath of relief when you realised you were about to be called into the press conference. Just get it over and done with.

Daniel didn’t have the same priorities and spoke up again, “I just want to know-”

You promptly cut him off, you had to. “Look I think it would be best if we just-” god this hurt, you couldn’t even look him in the eye. “Let’s just not talk, okay?”

You pushed yourself away from the wall when one of the media assistants handed each of you a mic and gave you the thumbs up that it was time for the five of you to head out onto the couch. Daniel quickly followed behind you, voice low enough that you could hear but it was unlikely anyone else could.

“So that’s it? You have nothing to say to me?” He asked. “For the person who got you into Formula 1?”

You as well spoke in a harsh whisper, “You may have fast tracked my career but I could have made it to Formula 1 without your help.”

You liked to believe that was true. Was it? You’d never know now.

“But you did take my help,” he pointed out, a groan slipping past his lips as he sat down on the couch. You made sure to distance yourself from him, leaving room for Carlos to sit between you. Even still, Daniel wasn’t done. “You took my help, my resources and then my seat.”

“And what did you do?” You hissed, arms crossed over your chest as different media personnel started to slowly trickle into the room, the lucky ones who claimed the first row were probably close enough to hear you and Daniel.

“Pardon?” He turned his head towards you. Carlos instinctively leaned further back, not wanting to be in the middle of this conversation, but watching and listening intently, as were the other drivers.

“What did you do, hmm?” You repeated, eyes scanning the growing crowd before you snapped your head in his direction. 

For a moment, this feud didn’t matter. Your heart skipped a beat, like it had the hundreds, thousands, of other times when his eyes met yours. The same brown eyes that for months you allowed yourself to get lost in. One look from him and everything around you faded to black. Nothing else seemed important when Daniel was looking at you, giving you his undivided attention.

But this moment wasn’t like all of those other ones.

You snapped out of it, returning to your original thought, much to Carlos’ dismay as he thought you guys were done and had started to relax in between you. 

“We both replaced a driver before their contract was up, Daniel.” You stated, wanting to point out the hypocrisy in his actions. “You are no better than me. We did the exact same thing.”

“It wasn’t the same and you know it,” Daniel retorted, not skipping a beat. He had those words lined up for weeks now, waiting for the chance to say them because there was no way in hell you weren’t going to point out the similarities in your actions.

But Daniel was right. It wasn’t the same. The biggest difference being, you were in love with Daniel when you signed that contract with McLaren, and he was in love with you. 

It wasn’t just a driver screwing over another driver. You drove a wedge between the two of you.

You had the thought to stand up and walk out. The press conference hadn’t officially started yet, the last few reporters were just finding their seats. You could say you’re ill, something came up, really any excuse to get out of here and away from Daniel’s harsh stare.

Don’t let him get to you. Lando’s reminder floated to the front of your mind and you forced yourself to just sit back and look at the small crowd instead. It was clear to everyone who even glanced your way that you did not want to be sitting there, but thankfully Tom Clarkson got the session up and running.

Of course Daniel was the star. Tom had questions about his return, about his short break, about being back with familiar faces. Daniel answered them all with such ease, the familiar heartwarming grin on his face that you couldn’t bear to look at. 

You zoned out, really, arms crossed in front of your chest as you tried to ignore the double standards coming from your right. You doubted Daniel was going to get as much hate online as you had gotten. No one was asking him how he felt about taking another’s seat, everyone was just happy he was back.

“And Y/N, onto you-”

You snapped your head up, plastering on your best smile.

“Last year you finished quite high in Hungary in Formula 2 and after your best finish out in Silverstone, you must feel quite confident going into this weekend?”

You lifted the mic up to your lips, “Yes and no, you know the car’s upgrades are proving to be paying off and we’re hoping to use them to our advantage this weekend but one can never be too confident. As a team we’ll be fighting to be at the front again but in the back of our minds we know that everyone else is doing the same.”

Tom nodded, content with that answer, “And is it nice to have another familiar face on the grid? Daniel acted as a sort of mentor for you during your time in F2, did he not?”

You tensed up and next to you, Carlos felt it. He nudged his arm against yours, a subtle move of encouragement. Carlos, like most of the drivers, knew how uncomfortable the situation was for all involved.

But you couldn’t process the kind gesture. Not when you could practically feel Daniel staring at you, burning holes into the side of your head as he waited for your response.

“I think, yeah a lot of people are probably happy to welcome him back,” you spoke quietly, and not at all convincing. But hey, at least you removed yourself from the answer and gave a general response. One that no one could flip on you.

Tom tried, though, “But personally, what’s going through your mind right now?”

You had so much media training. You knew the proper answer would be something along the lines of how Daniel is a great asset to the sport and how the grid is better with him. Nothing personal, but just facts the general public could agree with. You knew what to say.

But you scoffed instead, “Why aren’t you asking the other drivers how they feel?”

Max spoke up from the opposite end of the couch, “It’s great having Daniel back.”

You shot him a quick, yet thankful, smile. While he was good friends with Daniel, anyone on that couch could see how that question was only given to you because of your history with the Australian. And this press conference was supposed to be about motorsport, about the racing coming up. 

You stayed quiet for the rest of it and as soon as it ended you bolted out of that room. 

Unfortunately, so did Daniel.

He caught up to you with ease, “Hold up, Y/N, I want to talk.”

Daniel reached for your arm and you pulled it out of his grasp as you turned around to face him, “I don’t think there’s anything left to say. No, you said plenty last year. What was it, exactly? Something about how taking your seat before your contract was even up was the worst thing I could have possibly done? I’m not going to sit there and listen to everyone praise you for coming back when you dragged my name through the dirt for the exact same fucking move. I’m not going to listen to a single thing you have to say, knowing you’re the biggest hypocrite this sport has ever seen but won’t admit it.”

Daniel huffed out a short breath. For a second, you thought he was going to apologise, but that thought quickly left when his forehead creased, his jaw tightening, “Sometimes you gotta burn a few bridges in this industry, but you figured that out all on your own, didn’t you?”

You shook your head, taking a few more steps backwards as heavy sarcasm dripped from your tongue, “Nice to have you back, Daniel.”

It really was anything but nice. Not when that entire race was focused on how you and Daniel interacted in the paddock- or the lack of interaction was probably a better way to phrase it. Everyone knew you two to be connected at the hip. Now you were turning around and walking in the opposite direction to avoid him.

The next race was worse. Spa. It was a challenging track already, you knew this going into the practice sessions. You were prepared for a difficult weekend.

What you weren’t prepared for was leaving the garage towards the end of Q1 to set a lap time, only to be blocked by Daniel before you could cross the finish line. He slowed down before the straight, like many drivers did before giving it all they had on their way to start a flying lap. 

But Daniel didn’t speed up like you expected him to. He kept you behind him for as long as he could before shifting gears and taking off. When it was your turn to cross the line and get your time started, you heard the call come in from the garage. 

“Times up,” your engineer, Ronnie, said through the radio. “You didn’t cross the line in time.”

Once that timer hit 0, no one was allowed to start a new lap. Every other driver made it across in time, but Daniel’s little move kept you from throwing your hat into the ring for Q2. 

You embarrassingly made your way back around the track, pulling into the pit lane to park in the garage. It wasn’t long before other drivers followed, but they had all set lap times. Climbing out of the car, you noticed that Daniel didn’t make it through either.

Serves him right, you thought. 

God, you wanted to give him a piece of your mind. 

Right on time, you watched on the screen as Daniel dove into the pit lane. You ignored the calls from Ronnie and Oliver, not a single thought in your mind except to ask Daniel what his problem was.

Oliver knew what you were doing as soon as you stepped out of the garage. You ripped your helmet off and shoved it into his hands as he hurried to walk at your pace. Your eyes were set on the AlphaTauri garage just up ahead and you could hear Oliver warning you, telling you to just turn around and go back to McLaren but the second you saw Daniel get out of his car, you snapped.

“What the hell was that?” You asked, eyeing him up from where he stood at the garage opening. 

Daniel wasn’t the least bit surprised to see you, but he did stand up straighter, already anticipating whatever you had to say to him. 

“You’re a prick, you know that?” Your insult did little to offend him. 

“It's not my fault you left the garage late,” Daniel shrugged, taking no responsibility for your inability to set a lap time. 

“It’s completely your fault for slowing down more than necessary.”

“I didn’t want to run into traffic.”

“You fucked up my qualifying, Daniel.”

You felt Oliver’s hand on your shoulder. He wasn’t trying to pull you away, but the touch was to get your attention. Aside from AlphaTauri crew members watching this interaction, there was also a camera pointed directly at the two of you, streaming live to F1TV and whatever else broadcast that chose to air it. 

Daniel wasn’t as concerned about his media appearance, stepping forward the slightest bit so you were only inches apart. 

“If I were you, sweets, I wouldn’t be blaming your problems on the person who got you into this sport.”

You were so close to losing it on him for that comment. You probably would have, had he not thrown in his old nickname for you. Only it wasn’t sweet anymore. There was a distaste on his tongue as he said it, you heard it. He only said it to throw you off, to remind you that he no longer cared for you the way he used to. He was using it against you now.

Daniel saw the way you froze, completely losing your train of thought and he used it to his advantage to walk away from this conversation. He was happy to get the last word in and all you could do was drop your head and walk as close to Oliver as humanly possible as you made your way back to McLaren.

The altercation was heavily split down the middle by all who watched. Some people agreed that Daniel slowed down purposely to keep you from crossing the line in time to start a lap. They also agreed that he should have owned up and apologised for it, saying that it wasn’t in his character to leave another driver so defeated after something that was clearly his fault.

Other people agreed that it was your fault for leaving the garage too late, taking Daniel’s side. They said that it wasn’t very mature of you to confront him like that, or to swear at him. It only added to the conversation of how women weren’t ready to have a place in Formula 1. 

Your PR manager advised you to put out a statement about it, an apology. You ignored her advice. In your opinion, the only person who had to apologise was Daniel.

Of course he didn’t, though. 

Which meant you didn’t apologise when after the summer, In Zandvoort, you braked a little early when Daniel was behind you. You played it off saying you anticipated the turn too early. Daniel happily complained about you in the media pen when he was forced into the grass and then ultimately the barrier, forcing his race to end early. Social media blew up, like usual, feeding into this childish feud. 

That’s how it went for most all, of the races. It wasn’t as though you were purposely trying to ruin his weekends, nor was it his goal to ruin yours, but if you happened to be alongside each other during the race or near each other during qualifying, fans started to put their money on who would target who first.

You didn’t like that that was what your weekends turned into. It was one thing to want to know where the rest of the drivers were in comparison to you, but to be so focused on Daniel was taking it to the extreme.

But you were determined to prove you were a good driver without him, that you were a better driver than him. That taking that McLaren seat wasn’t a mistake and if anything, he should be regretting being so harsh on you. You wanted him to eat his words, and it helped your case that he was definitely struggling in the AlphaTauri. 

You finished ahead of him a handful of times. You could try and convince yourself it was skill, but a determining factor really was how horrible Daniel’s car was. That was proven when you were struggling with an upgrade package in Singapore. Some analysts compared the pace of the McLaren to the AlphaTauri, and said that the upgrades were really more like downgrades. 

When Daniel finished ahead of you, claiming sixth that race while you crossed the line in 17th, you were furious. You told the team that as a whole, you were much better than that. That the McLarens should not be finishing in the bottom five considering how successful you had been mid season. 

Those closest to you knew what you meant. You shouldn’t be finishing behind Daniel. 

Things weren’t perfect after that, despite going back to the old set up. You were back to fighting for points, but so was Daniel. And you hated it. You thought you could rely on the McLaren being better than the AlphaTauri, but you forgot to take into account that Daniel truly was one of the best drivers on the grid.

It got to the point where you and Ronnie had a code. If you finished ahead of him, on the radio, Ronnie would say way to go champ. If Daniel finished ahead of you and you weren’t already aware of it during the race, Ronnie would say there’s still work to be done. 

Again, those closest to you knew how much it meant to beat Daniel. 

You wanted to prove to him, and everyone but you wouldn’t lie to yourself it was mostly him, that you deserved that fucking seat. That you made the right choice by signing the contract, despite it meaning he was without a car for a few months. You shouldn’t have felt guilty for putting yourself first, your career first, if you were doing something great, which you were. 

Plus, the better you did, the less of a reason Daniel had to judge you. How could he still be upset with you for taking that McLaren seat when you were doing what he couldn’t? Scoring in the high points, being consistent, for the most part. How could he say that taking his seat was the worst thing you could have done when ultimately, it would boil down to jealousy? Daniel struggled in that McLaren, and he assumed you would too. That wasn’t the case. 

And deep down, even if you didn’t want to admit it, there was still a part of you that aimed to make Daniel proud. Even if you couldn’t get back to when you were each other's biggest fans, you hoped that he had moments when he looked at the driver standings and nodded to himself, smiling maybe, because even if you weren't on the best of terms, you were doing what he always knew you could do. 

You had no idea, but moments like that did come for Daniel. They were far and few between, rarely caught on camera or at least, never brought to your attention. You had no way of knowing Daniel was leaving the AlphaTauri garage, conflicted about how he felt about your accomplishments. You were doing better than him, there was no denying that. He just chose not to admit it.

The only time that season where you knew he was proud was at COTA. One of his favourite races on the calendar.

You qualified well, P3. That hadn’t happened since Silverstone. The race itself didn’t produce anything too horrible, aside from a few drivers at the back of the grid collided early on and unfortunately Daniel was one of them, being forced to retire. 

You, though, you were flying. Your biggest competition was Lando who had started P2, again, similar to Silverstone. For most of the race, your job was to defend Carlos who was aiming for that podium, wanting to take P3 from you. 

Typically, you would have boxed first. That’s usually what happened to give Lando the advantage. And with Carlos most likely being on an undercut strategy, you expected the call to come in to box ahead of him. 

But that didn’t happen. Instead, you watched Lando pull into the pit lane, giving you the automatic second place position. In your mirrors, you watched as Carlos pulled into the pits as well.

“What’s going on?” You asked Ronnie through the headset. 

“Plan F.”

Plan F was one you joked about, but never actually executed. Plan Fight you and Lando called it, but both of you knew that you’d never actually be given the go ahead to fight it out for the podium positions, not wanting to risk damage to the cars.

“Plan F?” You repeated, the shock in your voice evident. That made for good content on F1 Twitter.

“Box this lap,” Ronnie instructed before going on to explain. “Carlos is struggling with his pace, we believe his main goal will be to defend.”

From what you knew, Lewis was behind him, and if Carlos was struggling with his pace he wouldn’t be fighting for a podium, he’d be fighting to keep that fourth place position. 

Which meant you and Lando were also free to fight. 

Pitting for new tyres dropped you back a bit, but it didn’t take long at all until you were right on Lando’s tail again. You stayed there for the majority of the last half of the race, the gap wavering anywhere between half of a second to three seconds behind. 

You tried to pass, truly. But Lando’s defensive game had always been strong. You looked for the opportunities in the corners, along the straights, but it wasn’t until the third to last lap did the chance come. 

You had closed the gap as much as you could, not needing to worry about whoever was behind you, you figured it was still Carlos. As you approached the back straight, you knew Lando was expecting you to dart to the left in an attempt for an overtake on the inside, you had tried it in five out of the last ten laps and each time you were still left eating his dust. 

You veered slightly to the left, giving Lando the impression that was your goal and the second he made the move to defend, you steered the car to the right and gave it everything you had. It was a tricky move, vying for the outside overtake going into the tight corner, but when it seemed to work out, you had the inside line for the following turn and Lando was soon in your mirrors. 

He tried to take that position back, but you took advantage of the clear air and set off, determined for your first podium, determined to finish ahead of Lando.

Lando ended up claiming third, crossing the finish line only a second after you did. After a victory lap, where he jokingly flipped you off, the two of you pulled into parc ferme. Immediately, you collapsed into Lando, arms tight around him because not only was this a success for you, but for the team. Both McLaren drivers on the podium for the first time this season.

Through the cheers, you could hear Lando yell something about making history. Whether that was in regards to both of you or the fact that you were the first female to ever podium in F1, you weren’t sure. It didn’t matter anyway. You just knew you were proud.

You jumped into the arms of your team next, those standing behind the barrier. Adrenaline was pumping through you, you just wanted to celebrate with everyone. When you eventually took your helmet off, a few tears were streaming down your face and you didn’t even think about the risk of turning into the new George Russell crying meme. 

You were shaking as you stood in the cool down room, too amped up to sit. Max had been through this dozens of times before. Nor was this Lando’s first podium either, but you were on top of the world.

The ceremony went by in a blur. As did the post race conference. You really did try to take in each second of it, thankful that Lando was there at your side the entire time. This entire process was new to you and if Lando wasn’t in your ear telling you to breathe, where to go, to enjoy the moment, you would have been a mess.

There was so much that happened following that race, there was no way you could have known what was going on with any of the other drivers. It wasn’t until you got back to your hotel room at the end of the day with instructions to ‘get changed because we’re going out’ from Lando, did you see what you had missed.

It felt like hours since you even looked at your phone. You had called your parents, but you didn’t have much time for anything else. Now that you were sat on the edge of your bed, you were able to scroll through your texts and notifications. 

You were able to see the clip you were tagged in way too many times, on way too many platforms.

It was short, but any longer and you wouldn’t know what to do with yourself. You clicked play and watched the video of you crossing the finish line. Lando was following behind, but whatever broadcast this was from didn’t care about his finish. The shot switched to Daniel, from where he stood in the AlphaTauri garage.

Whoever was filming caught his live reaction of you coming second at COTA.

The nod, the faint curl of the corner of his lips because as much as he tried, he couldn’t fight the smile on his face as he watched you take your first podium position in F1, something that he once dreamed for you.

But you not being part of his dreams anymore didn’t mean that he stopped wishing you accomplished yours. 

This brought you back to the first video you watched of him a few years back, before you even met him, where he spoke so highly of you. He wanted you to succeed so badly back then and he wanted to be at your side while you did so.

Now here you were, succeeding, but where was Daniel?

Maybe that’s where some of his hostility lied. You didn’t need him, clearly. Or at least, that’s what he thought. 

The reality was, you wanted to prove you could do this without him, but you wished you didn’t have to. 

You were conflicted, you both were. And it didn’t help that you weren’t speaking civilly to each other because my god a simple conversation would probably do wonders for both of you. 

That was Lando’s thought, as he sat down next to you in the booth and handed you the glass of coke, no rum much to his dismay. You didn’t drink during the season, even if you had something to celebrate, Lando knew this. Champagne on the podium was the only exception.

Tonight, though, as you sat in your thoughts and replayed the image in your mind of Daniel smiling up at the screen, you figured that another exception wouldn’t hurt. 

You turned down the coke and grabbed his drink instead, downing it in one gulp and instantly regretting it because you were fairly certain it was tequila based and tequila just wasn’t something you ever enjoyed. Lando laughed and handed you the coke to chase it down with. 

“You’re letting loose tonight?” He asked, sitting down beside you. His arm stretched across the bench behind your shoulders. He didn’t even try stifling his chuckle as you struggled with the bitter taste left in your mouth.

“I need to,” you answered. 

“You deserve to,” he corrected. Lando reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet and then a sleek black card. He didn’t say anything to you, nor to the server who came by and knew that by him dropping the card on the table meant he was asking for bottle service. 

It wasn’t long before you had a row of shots to split between the two of you and a few others who had crowded the booth, some you knew, some you didn’t. Not that it mattered, you just wanted to drink, you didn’t care who you were with.

Lando being there was a godsend, though. He knew that you were a lightweight and told you that the glass in your hand was a vodka soda when in reality he asked the server for you to just be given water after a few hours of the most carefree drinking he had ever witnessed from you. 

The music was blaring, you had gotten up to dance at one point, but you kept finding your way back to the booth. Clubbing wasn’t your thing and Lando, whether he liked it or not, was an anchor for you tonight. He kept you safe, kept you from drowning in the sea of people and alcohol. 

He could do a lot that night, but he couldn’t prevent the inevitable storm that was Daniel Ricciardo making an appearance at that Austin night club.

Lando saw him first and turned to you with the intention of suggesting that you both called it a night. But no words came out when he saw the painful look of desire and despair mashed together on your features as you spotted the Australian driver. 

You didn’t drink often, but if you did, you would know that feelings are often elevated under the influence. You’d also know that alcohol lowers inhibition, giving you a false sense of security to say what was really on your mind.

“I don’t get it,” you spoke quietly and Lando leaned in closer to hear you over the music blasting from all corners. 

“Get what?”

You pulled your gaze off of Daniel before you could accidentally make eye contact and looked at your teammate instead. He seemed concerned for you, he always did when Daniel was involved. 

Lando always did what he could to get your mind off Daniel and the past. He was a good friend, a good person to have in your corner but he wasn’t who you wanted there at the end of the day. You had grown to love Lando, not in the way you loved Daniel, though, so you couldn’t deny that you wished it was the Aussie sitting next to you in the booth, celebrating your podium. You hated that you wanted that.

“Do you miss him, still?” Lando prompted, knowing you had lost your train of thought. 

When you shook your head, Lando gave you a look that clearly showed he didn’t believe you, but it was true. You didn’t miss Daniel. What you felt was much worse.

“I don’t miss him,” you answered, glancing towards him again. He stood at the bar talking to a girl that you envied because at least she was talking to him. “But I think he’s my missing piece.”

You hadn’t felt whole since the day you and Daniel split. You walked out of his flat but you left a piece of you there, a piece you desperately tried to get back through race weekends and training and distractions but it was no use. It would always belong to Daniel and you feared he had no intention of giving it back. You feared, that no matter how much time had passed, you’d always feel a little incomplete. 

You stood up to leave soon after, thanking Lando for the drinks and assuring him you’d send a text when you got back to the hotel. 

Lando tried to follow you to the door, wanting to tell you that he would go with you, the concerned friend making another appearance, but before he could get a word out he watched as someone cut him off, also making a direct line towards the door of the club.

It took Lando a second to realise it was Daniel who was walking after you now. Lando just stood there and raised his hand to the back of his neck, asking himself if he had just made a mistake by not stopping Daniel.

When Lando asked the next morning if Daniel spoke to you, you gave him a questionable look, telling him that you didn’t talk to him at all. Lando explained that he had seen Daniel leave the club right after you, but you just shrugged, chalking it up to getting into the uber before Daniel had the chance to catch up to you.

But Lando saw the photos. He, like everyone else, saw images of Daniel climbing into the car right after you. He wasn't the least bit surprised you lied about it. 

You didn't want to tell Lando that Daniel had grabbed the side of the car door before you could shut it, pulling it back just enough for him to slide into the backseat next to you. You shuffled over to make room, but you couldn’t get a single word out. All liquid courage vanished and instead your palms were clammy, the car felt stuffy and you couldn’t even look at him.

Daniel as well, didn’t say anything. His legs were spread out slightly, knee hitting yours as his hands were folded together in his lap. 

Why did he follow you?

This was the first time in ages you had been alone together, minus the driver. 

The hotel was a short drive away, but it felt like ages, the two of you sitting in uncomfortable silence. You weren’t bickering like you often did if you were in the same room, but at this point you’d rather that than whatever this eeriness was. 

You thought maybe, maybe, this was your saving grace. Maybe Daniel had followed you out of the club to tell you he was proud of you, to tell you he still loved you, to tell you he was tired of this feud and wanted you back.

But the longer you sat in silence, the more it sank in that that wasn’t the case. 

You used to love each other. Now you couldn’t even hold eye contact.

Daniel waited until the driver pulled onto the street of your hotel before saying anything. 

“Checo’s gone after this year.”

You turned to him, unsure if you had heard correctly. “What?”

“He’s gone,” Daniel repeated, more confident this time, still not looking at you though. “Marko told me on Friday.”

You had way too much alcohol flowing through your system to be able to process this. Checo’s contract wasn’t supposed to be up until the end of 2024. 

But Nyck’s wasn’t supposed to be up in June and Daniel’s wasn’t supposed to be done at McLaren in 2022. These things happened in Formula 1, as unfortunate as it was for the driver getting the boot, these things often happened. 

And Daniel…why did he know this information? Why didn’t the rest of the grid know it? Did Checo even know?

You inhaled sharply, “Does this mean-”

“The news is dropping tomorrow morning, but I wanted you to know first,” Daniel cut you off, his forehead creased with tension. His jaw was clenched, like he wasn’t happy to be saying this but felt the need to anyway. “I’m driving for Red Bull next year.”

The first thought that came to mind was he’s done it again. Taking another driver's seat before their contact ended. 2-1 now. He was officially a shittier person than you were and you so badly wanted to rub it in his face. 

But you could see now that that was why he told you personally. He didn’t want to wait until you heard the news like everyone else, he didn’t want to give you an opportunity to attack him for this, to make him feel like the bad guy even though that’s how he made you feel this entire season so far.

Surprisingly, it wasn’t all that difficult to bite your tongue. 

“Congratulations,” you settled on, quietly but you meant it and you caught him off guard because he truly was expecting some sort of lashing out. 

The driver pulled up to the hotel right at that second and you thanked him before stepping out, not giving Daniel a second look, again catching him off guard because you always looked back at him when you were together. 

Daniel waited a second. And then a few more before he bolted out of the car and into the hotel. You had made it to the elevator by that point and Daniel had to slide his hand between the doors to keep them from shutting. You watched as he pushed his way in and just like the car ride, said nothing.

You were on your way up to the twelve floor and Daniel waited until you arrived at the level before opening his mouth, waiting till the last second, wanting to cling onto this civil moment with you because who knew when it would come again?

“You’re not mad?” He asked.

The door opened and you had to brace yourself before standing up straight and walking out of the elevator, needing a moment to remember what side of the hall your room was on.

“I’m livid,” you answered, honestly. You were happy for him, but you were also angry about the situation. You didn’t know it was possible to feel both things at once, but in your drunk state, it was extremely possible. 

“Livid?” Daniel walked behind you, trying to gauge the rest of this conversation because you didn’t sound livid. 

“Enraged,” you said.

“Enraged,” he repeated.

“I want to wring your neck, Daniel,” you said, hearing him chuckle behind you because you didn’t sound the least bit threatening as you fumbled to unlock the hotel room door. The lock kept lighting up red and after your third failed attempt, Daniel took the card from your hand and unlocked it with ease, pushing the door open for you. 

You didn’t thank him, instead relying on the wall once you stepped inside to lean against as you pulled your heels off. Daniel followed you inside, standing at a cautious distance until you dropped your shoes because part of him thought that maybe you would throw them at him. You were enraged after all.

You weren’t sure why he was still there. He had told you what he wanted to tell you and he had no reason to still be hanging around. 

“What?” You finally asked, now sounding a little more on the annoyed side as you turned to stare at him. “What do you want? Why are you still here?”

“I want to talk.”

“About what?” You scoffed at him. “About the Red Bull contract? Congratulations, Danny. You deserve it. You deserve every fucking seat on this grid apparently.”

There it was.

“I knew you were mad.”

“I said I was mad!” You exclaimed, appalled that he was saying it like he discovered what you had already made perfectly clear. “I’m pissed, Dan. You have such a cult following that no one is going to bat an eye at you taking Checo’s seat, just like no one complained about you taking Nyck’s. Whereas I do it, I get offered the chance of a lifetime, to make history and I’m considered the villain? I didn’t end your contract, Daniel, I just replaced you and for some reason, no one cares about that narrative! They just care about you.”

You were yelling now. Daniel was probably regretting having followed you but it was too late for him to turn and walk out at this point.

“You know what the shitty part is?” You asked, stepping closer to him. Daniel could smell the vodka on your breath. That's how minimal the distance was between you. The last time you were this close you were wanting to rip his head off outside the AlphaTauri garage. 

“What?” He raised his eyebrows. Daniel couldn’t even begin to guess where you were going with this.

“This news is going to drop and my name is going to be circulating in the media again. They’re going to compare this, you taking his seat, to me taking yours. I will never be known as the first female signed to McLaren. I will forever be linked to you, no matter what you do in this fucking sport.”

You shook your head at him when he stayed silent. Pulling your eyes off of him, the heaviest exhale passed through your lips and you turned around, wanting this night to end. After you waved your hand in the air you muttered something about how he could see himself out.

But he didn’t go anywhere. 

And because he didn’t go anywhere and because you were drunk, you easily thought of more to say.

“You didn’t even like McLaren,” you sighed as you turned back around to face him, leaning against the wall. Your head was spinning. Maybe if you were lucky, this conversation wasn’t actually happening and it was a drunk figment of your imagination.

“No, but I loved you.” 

You definitely didn’t imagine him saying that.

“I loved you,” he repeated, the past-tense admittance felt like a stab to your chest. “And I wanted nothing more than to race alongside you without feeling the need to prove something, to be your partner off the grid. I wanted to love you and race at the same time and you ruined that.”

All you could do was shrug your shoulders. You had said everything you needed to say at this point in defence of your contract, “I’m a driver, Dan. The race, the seat, it comes first, everything else second. You of all people know that.”

“We could have had both.”

Both. Love and a spot in Formula 1. 

Clearly not.

“Could we have?” You asked, unsure if you even had an answer, but you needed him to really think about it. To think about it if that really was a possibility for the two of you. 

Daniel and you held each other's stares for a minute, waiting for the other to say something. You were still waiting, hoping, for him to say he was proud of you, that he still loved you, that it didn’t matter what happened in the past, but it did matter. Daniel was still waiting for a sincere apology, but you had nothing to apologise for. Signing that McLaren contract was the best thing you’d ever done for yourself, despite the strings to Daniel you had now found yourself tangled in, McLaren was where you were supposed to be.

“I’m tired, Dan,” you shook your head and glanced towards your room down the hall. Physically, mentally, you were drained. And you weren’t ready for what was to happen tomorrow when his contract news came to light.

It didn’t even feel like you had gotten a podium a few hours ago. The last thing you wanted to do was celebrate. You just wanted to crawl into bed and forget that Daniel had followed you here.

He didn’t stop you as you walked down the hall. He waited for you to look at him, but again, you were past that. What was a second look going to do at this point? You wiped your makeup off as best as you could and slid under the covers of your bed, quickly falling into a dreamless sleep.

And sure enough, the news dropped of his contract, of his new seat, and it wasn’t long before people started comparing it to what you had done the year prior. 

The first thing you saw when you woke up that morning, aside from the glass of water that Daniel had put next to your bed, was the news alert on your phone stating that Daniel was to replace Checo for 2024. 

The second article you read was about you. Speculating how you would feel about Daniel’s permanent return. The article highlighted the moments of your relationship, starting from the day he signed on to be your mentor to the time in the AlphaTauri garage when you were fighting over the qualifying lap he ruined.

And then there was a photo of you climbing into the car from last night, followed by Daniel getting into the car shortly after.

His name was trending. Your name was trending. Half the people online cared about his return to RBR. The other half wanted to know if you two were getting back together.

No one gave a single shit that you made history yesterday, landing that podium. 

You were the first female to score a podium position in Formula 1 and all anyone cared about was your connection to Daniel. Just like when you won the Monaco Grand Prix during F2, all anyone cared about was Daniel’s influence in your racing. When you were signed to McLaren, all anyone cared about was how you were replacing Daniel.

Daniel. Daniel. Daniel.

People didn’t care about your accomplishments. They only wanted to find a way to connect them all to Daniel.

You scrolled through the article and a new one was suggested for you at the bottom of it. Why Y/N Y/L/N Owes Her Career to The Honey Badger.

Instead of reading it, you threw your phone with as much strength as you had down the hall, out of your sight. You heard it hit the floor and slide across the hardwood. 

You couldn’t remember the last time you read something positive about yourself without a hint of Daniel’s influence. 

This wouldn’t have been as hard of a pill to swallow if he was still in your life the way you wanted him to be. If he really was still at your side, supporting you, cheering you on, you could look past the articles and speculations about how he was the only reason you were in the sport. It wouldn’t matter what people were saying if Daniel was in your ear reminding you of your potential, reminding you that you deserved that F1 seat.

But he wasn’t going to do that, not anymore. What you had was gone and you were left with the bitter memories and an unforgiving path you had to walk alone to prove yourself in this field.

You wanted to prove you didn’t need Daniel, but the entire world was making it their mission to remind you that at one point, you did. Maybe you still did, maybe you didn’t know who you were without him because let’s face it, everything you did on the track still revolved around him.

You cared about where he finished. You went out of your way to outscore him and only him. You didn’t do anything to relieve the tension in the paddock. You were very much playing into the narrative that he was still a key player in your life.

How could the world move on if you hadn’t?

Hearing footsteps make their way towards you, you sat up in bed, already knowing it was Daniel who didn’t leave when he should have.

You weren’t concerned about your appearance, he had seen you in a much worse state. He had better mornings as well, still wearing his clothes from last night, the bags under his eyes gave away the fact that he was about as tired as you were.

He had your phone in his hands, but he didn’t spend much time looking at the article on the screen. Instead, he dropped it to the table next to him and leaned against the doorframe, exhaling a heavy breath.

You didn’t move, content with the distance between you now because you had to be. Despite wanting nothing more than to be with him, you couldn’t have that anymore. Everything had to be at a distance.

Your phone chimed. Once, twice, and then about four more times. You knew it was people telling you about Daniel’s contract, not knowing that you had been given the inside scoop last night. 

At one point, you loved being connected to Daniel. Now, it was a burden. It was haunting. Each time someone mentioned him to you, sent you something about him, asked you a question about him, you were reminded that the connection was gone. 

Your lips parted and you had to take a quick, self-assuring breath before finally saying what had to be said.

“I don’t want to do this anymore.”

“Do what?” 

Your entire body trembled as you spoke, “You know what, Daniel.” 

Of course he did. He was as tired as you were. It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this and yet here you were, staring at each other knowing that you were both too far gone to ever find your way back. 

You thought, maybe, possibly, you could work things out. For a brief moment, when you knew he was proud of you, you thought you saw a silver lining amongst the grey skies. And maybe you did, maybe it was there, but it was way beyond your grasp. You couldn’t reach out and grab it, you could only dream of it.

There was one solution. One that broke you, knowing you were stuck with it. You didn’t want to admit it. You wished you could push it down and keep living the way you had but you just couldn’t do it anymore. 

You were tired. This was hopeless. You both needed closure, but he wasn’t going to say anything which meant you had to.

“I’m stuck, Daniel. I’m stuck living in the moments between the day we met and the day I left because those are the moments that meant the most to me and I haven't been ready to let them go. I’ve never wanted to move on but you forced me to. You forced me to become the bad guy, to do this without you, to grow without you, to prove that I don’t need you but I do need you, I’ve always needed you. From day one, I needed you. My first time in the F1 car, I needed you. If I crashed out, I needed you. I always needed you, Daniel, and then after a five minute conversation you decided that I didn’t anymore. You made that decision for me, for us.”

You paused, you took a breath, you weren’t done. Despite being so painfully close to breaking down, you weren’t done.

“And now here I am, finally succeeding, finally making history in this sport, but it doesn’t mean anything because no one cares unless they find a way to connect it to you. I will always be in the shadow of the man I love and for this entire season, I’ve let it happen because it was the only way you’d still be in my life.”

Daniel cleared his throat when he heard that four letter word, standing up a little straighter, “You still love me?”

You glanced down at the duvet wrapped around your hips. It was heavy, suffocating, much like this conversation. “Truthfully, Daniel, I can’t imagine the day I stop.”

Daniel didn’t need to say anything for you to know he no longer felt the same. He had stopped loving you the day you signed the contract with McLaren. He may have been proud of your achievements, he may have appeared to have extended a short olive branch, one that gave you false hope, but he didn’t love you. 

Because it always came back to that one question. How could he love you- how could he be in your corner when you had pushed him out of his own? You may not have been the one to initiate his leave, but you gave him that final shove. 

That was a move you had to live with. 

“I love you,” you repeated, your eyes then trailing towards your phone where that stupid article was still displayed on the screen. “I always will, but I can’t be tied to you anymore. I can’t do this anymore.”

Even though Daniel was the one that had broken up with you all those months ago, this hurt more. Hearing you finally cut ties, knowing you didn’t want to be done but had to be, broke him. There was no salvaging this. 

“I think-” your voice cracked as you spoke, but for the sake of this conversation you did your damn best to hold it together. “I think we need to be done.”

We are done, Daniel wanted to say, but he knew there was more to your words.

Watching your bottom lip quiver made him want to pull you into his arms one last time. He wanted to apologise and hold you close before the tears could fall. 

“No more comments to the media,” you stated firmly. Daniel nodded. 

You were stronger than him, maybe you always were. Daniel could barely get a word out and here you were, laying down what had to happen moving forward.

“No more interactions,” you then said, raising your hand to your arm, a soothing gesture or maybe an anxious one, he couldn’t tell. “No more- no more following me out of clubs for people to see. No more giving anyone a reason to connect us. I don’t want you in my life as anything more than another driver on the grid. You’re not my teammate. You’re not my partner. You’re not in my corner. I don’t want to worry about what you think about me anymore. I don’t want to worry about where you finish and I don’t want you to care about where I’m at. I want you to focus on driving just like I want to focus on driving. That’s it. That’s who we are. We’re drivers, Daniel. That’s all we’ve ever been. Strip back every layer of us and racing remains. That’s how it should be. We’ve-” you sucked in a breath, your words getting caught in your throat for a second. “We’ve always known that, I think. That at the end of it all, we’re drivers first. We were foolish to think we could be anything more.”

You couldn’t have both. You couldn’t be in love while on the grid together.

You were only ever drivers. That’s why you signed the McLaren contract. That’s why Daniel didn’t think twice before replacing Nyck and now Checo. You both put your careers first. It wasn’t selfish, it was in your blood, and you couldn’t hold it against each other anymore. 

And you couldn’t hold onto it either.

As much as you liked to think there would come a day where you would still be in love, both of you on the grid, you accepted now that it would never happen. It was a dream, one you had to let go of. You had to mend the hole in your chest that he created. You couldn’t let him be that missing piece.

You had to respect Daniel as a driver, much like he had to with you. But that was it. No more conversations. No more subtle comments made about each other or to each other. You needed distance. No more missed looks in the paddock, because surely someone with a camera would catch it. No more watching the screen if the other was showcased. No more petty feuds. No more interactions. No more caring.

You had to cut ties with Daniel. It was the only way you could focus on yourself and your career.

Surely, enough time would pass where an article would be written about you that didn’t mention his name and his assistance in getting you to where you were now. But that wouldn’t happen if you were still holding onto him. You had to let go for the rest of the world to.

Daniel pushed himself away from the wall without saying a word. You watched, tense, as he slowly made his way towards you and sat down next to you on the bed. Knees touching like they were in the car ride last night. As you turned your head and stared up at him, you could make out the details in his face that you used to cherish, that you had memorised so early on in your relationship. 

But he had changed. There was a sliver of unfamiliarity in his eyes, a reminder that this wasn’t the Daniel who was in love with you anymore.

You had to look away.

“It wasn’t supposed to be like this,” you whispered. You kept your hands folded in your lap, worried that if you unclenched your fingers you would reach out for him. 

Daniel nodded, agreeing with you. He raised his arm up, tucking it over your shoulders and pulling you against his side. You inhaled a sharp breath at the gesture, knowing this would be the last time you’d feel his touch. He rubbed his hand over your arm, neither of you thinking to say anything else, because there really was nothing left to say.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

You were supposed to be in love. 

And maybe, in another world, you would be. If you didn’t make the move to F1, you could still be in love. If you settled with F2, if you moved to a different series, he could still support you and you could still be his biggest fan. 

But you were drivers. Career focused, determined, passionate drivers who wanted nothing more than to win. You both craved the honour and prestige of a Formula 1 seat more than anything, more than each other. You’d be lying if you thought otherwise.

You were drivers, so inevitably, it was always going to end like this.

__________________

is this the finale or is there one more chapter for these loveless drivers?

taglist: @torossosebs@whatthefuckerr@jspitwall@oconso@tsarinablogs@landowecanbewc@somanyfandomsbruh@christianpulisic10@storminacloud@sunnytkm23@formula1mount@azxulaa@icarus-nex@spideyspeaches @moonvr @destourtereaux @baw-sixteen @cinderellawithashoe @love4lando @alesainz @blueanfield @itsmeempar @vellicora

for some reason im struggling to add anyone else to the taglist, i deeply apologise. i would recommend turning on post notifs but i know its sometimes annoying, but i rly am struggling with my mentions

[tortillamastersblog]

✐ Seven Years | Kara Danvers ✎

Pairing: Kara Danvers x reader

Warnings: slight angst

Summary: Seven years is a long time, but you’ve never given up on Kara.

________________________________________________

Seven Years Ago

A knock on my door makes me shoot up in bed. After crash landing on earth with Mon El I’m still getting used to my super hearing.

I rub my eyes and check my phone for the time, frowning when I see it’s two in the morning. I get out of bed and use my x-ray vision to see who’s at the door.

Much to my surprise I realize it’s Kara and the way she holds herself is very unusual. She’s leaned against the doorframe, her hair a mess and her glasses are askew on the bridge of her nose.

“Hey, what are you doing here this late?” I ask when I open the door.

Kara’s head shoots up and her hazy, glassy eyes meet mine. She sways when she pushes herself off the doorframe and when she slurs a, “Heyyy,” I smell alien liquor on her breath.

I sigh and step aside, letting her in wordlessly. This isn’t the first time she’s shown up drunk at my doorstep and I’m pretty sure tonight it’s for the exact same reason as last time.

“What did he do this time?” I say, exasperated as Kara flops down on my couch face first.

Mon El. . .

I love my twin brother, don’t get me wrong, but he can be such a jackass sometimes.

Since he started going out with Kara, he has changed for the better, but sometimes he slips up and that’s when I get involved because not long after waking up here on Earth, Kara’s took an instant liking to me.

Unlike my brother I didn’t break out of the DEO, I didn’t send out a distress call that got me arrested, and I’ve never believed our people’s claims that the Kryptonians were responsible for all our hardships, which meant Kara and I became friends rather quickly.

And as her friend I’m one of the only people she can talk to about Mon El because I know him better than anyone and I’m more often than not the one who talks some sense into him whenever he messes up.

Now, I could say I don’t mind because that’s what friends are for, but I do because I hate how I was too shy to ask her out and when I mentioned it to him, he swooped in and asked her out himself.

It’s like he doesn’t even care about her and only did it to one-up me once again, the same way he’s been doing all his life.

Kara groans and I take a seat beside her head, taking off her glasses so she doesn’t accidentally break them. “He just doesn’t listen!”

Yeah, I’ve heard that one before.

I sigh and scratch at my eyebrow. “Why? What happened?”

I don’t want to know. It makes me furious, seeing how he treats her, but I want to be a good friend, so I’m offering her a shoulder to cry on.

Kara takes a deep breath before sitting up. She looks like a bug wiggling its legs in the air while doing so, but she manages to do it and sinks back into the cushions, her head landing on my shoulder.

It’s a familiar position and even though I know it’s friendly on her part, I can’t help the butterflies that erupt in my stomach every time she’s this close.

She smells like floral perfume and liquor, the latter being a little overwhelming for my sensitive nose, but I couldn’t care less. All that matteres right now is that she’s comfortable and safe.

God, what would the world do if they saw Supergirl in this state? Wasted over a fight with her boyfriend. . .

I shake my head and force myself not to think like that. Kara isn’t just Supergirl; perfect, charming and selfless. She’s also Kara and she, like everyone else, isn’t perfect.

“We were dealing with some bank robbers earlier,” she starts, still slurring her words but sounding more sober than before, “and I told him— I TOLD him— I had it under control, but he swooped in anyway.”

Yup, that sounds like him.

I have the same powers he has, but I don’t want to be a superhero. I just want to live a normal life, just like I’ve always wanted, even back on Daxam, and because I now have the freedom to choose, I choose to work as a manager and barista at Noonan’s. I like connecting with people and the simplicity of the job, which makes it perfect.

From time to time I do help the DEO of course, but only if I really have to. Otherwise I stick to my new, boring life.

I hum in acknowledgment and wait for Kara to continue.

“They got away with the money,” she says, “and I got a slab of concrete hurled at me. . . And then he has the audacity to accuse me of letting them get away, as if I didn’t have to use my body to shield them and prevent him from accidentally killing them with that piece of concrete!”

“I— Wow.” Is all I can manage to say and when I look to my left I’m startled to find Kara looking up at me with big, puppy dog eyes.

“Why can’t he just listen?” she whispers, her eyes darting between mine. “I mean, you listen. You always listen. Why can’t he?”

I swallow thickly and look at my hands in my lap. Mon El and I might be twins, but that’s where the similarities end.

I feel myself getting hot under Kara’s intense stare, so clear my throat and mumble, “I don’t know, Kara. But I’m sorry he’s acting like this.”

I would never do something like that to you.

I don’t say that because we’re just friends and because I’m not going to be the one who ruins their relationship.

Kara sighs and rests her head back on my shoulder, closing her eyes. She wraps her arms around my arm and within seconds her breathing evens out and I know she’s asleep.

Damn you, Mon El . . .

I shift around until I can get out of her embrace, carefully directing her so she’s lying on the couch. I take off her shoes and drape a thin blanket over her, knowing full well that she won’t be going anywhere anytime soon.

Now

I cough and blink my eyes open. Everything is white and blurry, so I rub my eyes with my hands.

A familiar face swims in front of me and when I blink a couple of times, it comes into focus.

“Brainy?” I ask, coughing once more. “Are we back in the 31st century?”

He shakes his head and runs a hand through his hair. “No. There have been some. . . complications.”

My eyebrows shoot up and I step out of the cryo-pod. My clothes are sticking to my body and I gladly accept the stack of dry clothes Brainy holds out. “What kind of complications? Where’s Mon El? Is he still asleep?”

Brainy’s eye twitches in a telltale way and he turns around when I start taking off my shirt. “No, he is awake. He is out looking for a power source for the ship.”

I narrow my eyes at the back of his head and finish changing, running a hand through my damp hair. “Where exactly is he? I know there something you’re not telling me, Brainy.”

He peaks over his shoulder to make sure I’m decent before turning back around. “There is nothing I’m not telling you, Y/N.“

I scoff and brush past him to the ships main computer to see what’s going on. Before I can get my hands on the control panel though, he slips in front of me, blocking my view.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

I raise an eyebrow. “What am I doing? What are you doing? Move, please.”

He shakes his head and grimaces. “I can’t do that.”

Frustration bubbles in the pit of my stomach and I clench my jaw so as to not snap at him. “Why not? What is going on?!”

Brainy opens and closes his mouth like a fish out of water, but nothing comes out.

“Brainy, I swear—“

“Y/N.”

I spin around at the familiar voice and glare at my brother who’s dressed in his red Legion suit.

“Mon El.” I acknowledged him with a nod and send Brainy one last glare before asking, “What’s going on? Where are we? Or should I say when are we?”

“It doesn’t matter. I’ve got what we need and we should be back home in no time,” he replies and when my eyes drop to his hands I realize he’s holding a power cell.

Why is no one telling me what is going on?

My frustration turns into anger when Mon El tries to move past me without elaborating, so I grab his arm and yank him back.

“Either you tell me what’s going on right now, or I’m leaving the ship to find out myself!” I seethe through gritted teeth and it fills me with satisfaction to see him flinch ever so slightly.

He quickly reassumes his unfazed demeanor though and calmly replies, “Look, you weren’t supposed to wake up before I got back. We’re not home yet, which is all that matters, but I have what we need to get back, so don’t worry.”

I’m about to lunge at him when Imra boards the ship, also dressed in her Legion suit.

So they were out together. . .

“Mon El, Kara told me—“

She freezes when her eyes land on me and when it registers what she just said my heart drops. I let go of Mon El’s arm and turn to face her with shaking hands. “What did you just say?”

It’s almost a whisper but because it’s dead silent right now, Imra hears me.

“Y/N. You’re awake,” she says carefully, her eyes darting between me and Mon El.

“Yeah, no shit.” I take big step forward so I’m face to face with her, pointing at her chest. “Now tell me. What were you going to say?“

She swallows thickly, looking like a deer caught in headlights and when I don’t back down, her eyes drop to the floor and she mumbles, “Kara wanted me to tell Mon El that Winn managed to locate another power cell, should we need one that is. . .”

My jaw drops and my heart races in my chest. I spin around and stare at Mon El in disbelief.

“Kara?” I croak. “Kara?!“

Mon El sets down the power cell and hols out his hands to calm me down, but I’m way past the point of being calmed down now. “Y/N, please don’t make a big deal out of this. I—“

“No, you don’t get to talk to me like that!” I cried, feeling tears well up in my eyes. “How dare you not tell me we were back?”

His face is contorted into a conflicted grimace, and he tries to come up with an excuse, but I’m not having it.

“You weren’t going to wake me up, were you? You weren’t ever going to tell me about this, were you?” My voice breaks more and more as I continue speaking until I’m a crying mess.

“Y/N. . .” Imra places a hand on my shoulder, but I shrug her off, taking several steps back to glare at all three of my supposed friends.

“No, just stop,” I choke out, wiping at my tears. “I’ve waited, hoped, seven years for this moment, and you weren’t going to say anything.“

I stare at each of them for an explanation, or a reason as to why they weren’t going to tell me, but no one says anything, so I square my shoulders and use my sleeve to tame the never ending stream of tears.

“Wow. So much for family,” I scoff and make my way to the ship’s door. No one dares to stop me and as soon as I step outside, there’s only one thing left on my mind: Finding Kara.

Seven Years Ago

“Here you go.” I smile and hand Maya, one of our regulars, her coffee over the counter. She reciprocates the smile and thanks me before leaving.

I grab the next ticket and look it over, seeing that I only have to make a cappuccino and a hot chocolate.

I get to work, moving flawlessly around the space next to my coworker Conan, only to be pulled to the side when I go out back to grab a new crate of coffee beans.

“Kara, what the hell?” I shriek when I see the blonde grinning at me. She’s wearing her Supergirl suit and her blonde hair looks windswept.

“Hi!”

I push my glasses up the bridge of my nose and set down the coffee beans. “You can’t just sneak up on someone like that. One of these days I’m going to have a heart attack because of you,” I say, my lips twitching when she scratches her neck in embarrassment.

“You’re right I’m sorry,” she says, her smile not faltering, “even though I don’t think you could even have a heart attack if you tried.”

I roll my eyes playfully and pull her into a hug. She laughs and hugs back, and I’m pretty sure if I were human she would have broken my neck by now.

“Don’t get smart with me,” I warn with a chuckle when we pull back and she just smiles, tucking a stand of hair behind her ear. “So, what brings you by? Not my idiot brother again, I hope.”

Kara grimaces and shifts awkwardly. “Actually that’s exactly why I came by.”

I deflate and force myself to ignore the hurt that always claws at my heart when she talks about her relationship with Mon El. “Oh, alright then. What happened?”

For the first time ever, she seems to pick up on my change in mood pertaining this particular topic and she frowns. However, when I raise an eyebrow expectantly she clears her throat and a tentative smile tugs at the corner of her lips. “Well, I. . . I broke up with him.”

My eyes widen and I can’t stop a confused, “Why?” from slipping past my lips.

It was probably not the reaction she was expecting because she falters and starts nervously tugging at her skirt. “I-I just realized we don’t working together and he is just so different and— I thought you’d be happy for me.”

Seeing her pout I’m quick to grab her hands and make her look at me. “No, no, no. I am happy for you. I just— I thought maybe he broke your heart and you were sad about it and— I’m sorry. I’m glad you’re okay, and I’m glad you’re happy. That’s all that matters.”

Uncertainty flits across her face and her blue eyes search my face when she asks, “Really?”

I nod and squeeze her hands with a soft smile. “Really.”

Kara beams the next second and throws her arms around my neck. “You’re the best friend ever. How about we go out and celebrate tonight? I’ll ask Alex, Lena, and Sam to come, too.”

My heart breaks a little at the word friend, but I don’t let it show when I agree. “Sure. Just text me when and where and I’ll be there.”

“Yay!” Kara giggles and pulls back, her face lit up with happiness.

I smile fondly at the sight, feeling my heart flutter before scolding myself.

Stop, she’s your friend. Nothing else.

I sigh and gesture behind me. “I should get back to work.”

“Of course!” Kara’s eyes widen in realization, but she doesn’t lose her smile.

I return a half-hearted smile and get back to work, hearing the whooshing of her taking off just as the door closes behind me.

Since she broke up with Mon El three months ago, Kara has been around even more than before.

She shows up at Noonan’s daily just to chat which has gotten her in trouble with Snapper more often than not, and she spends most nights on my couch, passed out from her Supergirl duties.

Tonight was game night at her place and everyone except me has already left, leaving behind empty beer bottles and candy wrappers.

It was fun and filled with friendly competition, leaving a lingering warm feeling in the pit of my stomach.

I pick up the empty wine glass Lena drank out of and take it to the kitchen along with some empty beer bottles.

“I told you, you don’t have to do that,” Kara says, joining me in the kitchen with the empty popcorn bowl.

I shrug her off and take the bowl from her, placing it in the dishwasher before wiping my hands on my pants. “And I told you, I don’t mind.”

Kara’s blue eyes soften and she crosses her arms, her hands disappearing in the sleeves of her (my) sweatshirt. She borrowed it one night after showing up at my apartment covered in soot and ash, and she hasn’t returned it since.

The longer she watches me, the more nervous I get and I push my glasses up the bridge of my nose. “So, uh— How’s life?” I ask awkwardly which makes Kara chuckle.

She tilts her head adorably and smiles. “I can’t complain. How about you? How’s Maya?”

I cringe inwardly at the mention of Maya and shake my head with a soft laugh. We went on one date a couple of weeks ago because she asked me out, but I’m too hung up on the blonde in front of me, so I let Maya down gently.

Weirdly enough, Kara hasn’t stopped pestering me about it even though I keep telling her that there’s nothing going on between Maya and I.

“She’s fine I think. I told you I haven’t spoken to her since our date,” I say, drawing shapes on the counter next to me.

Kara raises an eyebrow and her eyes hold something I can’t quite place. “Well, is there someone else then?”

It’s a little weird how interested she is in my love life lately, but I try not to read too much into it.

“No,” I say quietly and Kara uncrosses her arms with a satisfied smile.

“Good. I don’t like sharing my best friend,” she says, placing a hand on my chest.

I swallow thickly and bite the inside of my cheek. “Yup.”

Kara squeezes my shoulder and moves past me, getting comfortable on the couch and looking at me expectantly when I don’t follow.

We usually watch a movie together after everyone’s already gone, but I don’t feel like staying tonight because it just hit me that she’ll never see me as anything other than a friend.

After she broke up with Mon El I thought I might get my chance with her after all, but now I know that that won’t be the case and all I want to do is go home and wallow in self pity.

“Actually, I think I’m going to head home, too,” I mumble, looking down as I drag myself to the door to put on my shoes and jacket.

Kara jumps off the couch and hurries toward me. “What? Why?”

I sigh and glance at her, seeing the confusion and hurt on her face.

“I’m pretty tired and I have an early shift tomorrow morning,” I say, pushing my glasses up the bridge of my nose again.

“O-Okay,” Kara stutters and I only hug her briefly before leaving, ignoring the way her eyes burn into the back of my head as I step into the elevator.

Now

I fly over National City, admiring the twinkling lights in the dark of the night as I make my way to a familiar apartment.

It’s cold and a few snowflakes land and melt on my face as I continue flying, but I ignore them and close my eyes briefly, taking a deep breath of fresh air.

The last time I was here, my lung felt like it was on fire but since being cured of my lead allergy in the 31st century, that is no longer an issue.

I descend slowly when I get close to my destination, feeling nervousness rise up in the pit of my stomach.

What if she doesn’t want to see me? What if she moved on? I mean, it’s been seven years. . .

Seven Years Ago

“What are we going to do?” Kara asks desperately, pacing back and forth.

We’re at the DEO, trying to figure out what to do about my mother’s attempt at invading the planet.

Alex looks to be deep in thought and Winn and Lena are talking in hushed voices a few steps away.

“Well, we could always use the device Lillian—“

Alex gets cut off immediately by Kara starting her down. “Absolutely not. We have to think of something else.”

I frown and glance at Clark who’s silently watching the whole scene unfold next to a defeated looking Mon El.

“What device?” I ask and when Alex and Kara go on bickering I ask again, this time louder and a little more aggressive. “What device?!”

No one says anything for a second but then Winn clears his throat and steps forward. “Lena and Lilian came up with a fail safe device that releases trace amounts of lead into the atmosphere when activated.”

I regret asking and immediately know why Kara doesn’t want to use it. It wouldn’t only force my mother and all the other Daxamites to leave, but also Mon El and me.

“I’m going to fight Rhea, and I’m going to win. There’s no other option. We’re not going to use that thing.” Kara states with a huff and it seems as though a decision has been made, but before anyone can leave I step forward with squared shoulders.

“No, you are not fighting our poor excuse of a mother,” I say calmly. “We are using the device. No one else has to get hurt and if it means Mon El and I have to leave as well, then so be it. Right?”

I look at Mon El and despite not seeing eye to eye on most things, he agrees with me and nods solemnly.

Kara whips around and glares at me. “We can’t just—“

“Yes you can,” I interrupt, turning to Alex before Kara can say anything else. “Get the device ready. Mon El and I will get our affairs in order and return to the DEO as soon as possible. You said Kara’s spaceship is still in working order, right? We’ll use it to get off Earth as soon as the lead is released.”

Alex pulls me in for a hug and lets out a shuddering breath but agrees to the plan and orders Winn and Lena to finish making the distributor.

Clark regards me with reverence and bows slightly, leaving shortly after to help in the ongoing fight against the invasion.

Mon El leaves too, shaking Alex’s hand and hugging Kara briefly, leaving me behind with the two sisters.

“I can’t believe you just did that!” Kara seethes, jabbing me in the chest with her finger. “I can fight Rhea. I can win!”

“No!” I argue, shoving her hand away and taking a step back. “You can’t win. My mother fights dirty and you will lose and I won’t let that happen. Not when there’s something I can do about it.”

Alex watched us with an uncomfortable look on her face before deciding she’s seen enough. She wordlessly slips out of the room and makes sure the door is properly shut behind her.

“Well, I’m not going to let you jet off into space with nowhere to go. You will die out there!” Kara spits through gritted teeth, the vein on her forehead pulsing dangerously.

“You don’t know that! But I know that you will get hurt if you fight my mother!” I shout and it makes her flinch because I’ve never raised my voice at her.

“But I can try! Why won’t you just let me do this?”

“Because I love you!”

I slap my hand over my mouth and watch as Kara’s eyes widen.

Well, I guess it’s out there now. . .

I sigh and take off my glasses, folding them before sliding them into my pocket.

“I love you, Kara, and not in a best friend kind of way. I won’t let you get hurt.”

Kara gapes at me and when she doesn’t say anything I clench my jaw and brush past her. “Now if you’ll excuse me I have to go home and get my affairs in order. There’s not much time left.”

Hurt claws at my throat when I leave the stunned superhero behind and I don’t try to stop the oncoming wave of tears.

I knew she didn’t think of me as more than a friend, but her blatant rejection of my feelings just now hurts more than anything I’ve ever felt before.

There’s not much I have to do when I get home because there isn’t much I can take with me, but I do sign the lease of the apartment over to my coworker Conan. He’s been looking for a new place to stay for a couple of months now and the apartment is payed off until the end of the year.

I also sign a resignation letter for work and put it on the kitchen counter next to my spare set of keys.

I’m just about to take some of the picture frames off the wall when I notice a nearing, familiar heartbeat.

I turn around just in time to see Kara coming in through the window with tears streaming down her face.

“What—“

I get cut off by a pair of lips on my own and my eyes widen before slamming shut.

Kara’s desperately pulling me closer by the back of my neck and I have to place my hands on her hips to stop myself from toppling into her.

She kissed me passionately and frantically, and I wince when I taste her salty tears.

I push at her hips, effectively breaking the kiss and stare at her questioningly. “What are you doing, Kara?”

I can’t let her play with my heart. Not now when I’m about to leave.

Another tear makes its way down her cheek and I fight the urge to wipe it away. She looks utterly hopeless and broken and when she whispers, “I love you, too’” the world stops spinning for a moment.

“It’s why I broke up with Mon El in the first place. You get me like no one else does. You listen to what I say and you’re kind, and modest, and your soul is beautiful. I can’t just let you leave. I-I want to go on dates with you. I want to hold your hand and wake up next to you. I want to make you breakfast in bed and kiss you until you’re breathless. Please don’t leave. Please. . .”

I feel my bottom lip tremble and squeeze my eyes shut. That is what I’ve wanted to hear for so long, and it’s so unfair that it’s just a little too late now.

“Kara, I can’t,” I whisper, opening my eyes again to find her blue eyes already on me.

She whimpers and surges forward, capturing my lips in another heated kiss.

I don’t fight her at all, pulling her closer by her waist until there’s virtually no space left between us.

Her lips are soft and warm, even though they’re moving against mine quite aggressively, and I sigh against her mouth when she buries her fingers in my hair and tugs me even closer.

I could get lost in this kiss and if it weren’t for the sudden burning sensation in my lungs I probably would have.

My grip on her waist involuntarily tightens and I pull back to double over and cough violently. It feels like I’m breathing fire and my throat closes, making me wheeze.

They released the lead.

I look up with tears in my eyes to find Kara watching me in horror.

“No, please. Not now,” she says, desperately cupping my cheeks.

She raises a hand to the comms device in her ear and frantically says something to the person on the other end. I’m assuming it’s Alex, but I can’t focus on what’s being said because the next time I cough, I’m coughing up blood.

It runs down the side of my mouth and I’m suddenly too weak to wipe it away, so Kara does it with alarm written all over her face.

She grabs me around the waist and hoists me over her shoulder, dashing out of the window within the blink of an eye.

The position is a little awkward and uncomfortable but I can’t focus on anything other than trying to get enough air in my lungs.

When we touch down on a field in the middle of nowhere, I see Mon El is already there, waiting and coughing next to Kara’s spaceship.

Kara sets me down gently and cups my cheeks again. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

I shake my head and press a kiss to the inside of one of her wrists, my hands landing on her hips as I sway dangerously on my feet.

I’m too weak to say anything so I just smile weakly, hoping it’s enough to show her that I’m not mad.

“I love you,” she chokes out, pulling out a necklace from beneath her suit. I realize it’s her mother’s and I try to pull away when she presses it into one of my hands. I can’t take something so valuable from her, but she just nods her head adamantly and pleads, “Take this. . . take this, please. It will keep you safe.”

I give in and cough again, holding my breath when she presses her lips against mine one last time.

When she pulls back and pushes me toward the ship, her face is twisted in agony and I know there isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for her not to feel this way.

But there’s nothing I can do, so I get into the ship behind Mon El, clutching her necklace against my chest as the hood materializes above us and we start to ascend.

I mouth I love you, and watch her shrinking figure through the glass. She waves goodbye and I almost break down completely at the sight of her watery smile.

Now

I land on Kara’s balcony, suddenly no longer sure about whether or not I want to do this, but then I see her through the window.

She’s curled up on the couch with a thin blue blanket draped over her. The TV is off and she’s not on her phone either, making me frown and wonder what she’s doing but then I see her wiping her cheek with the back of her hand.

My heart drops at the sight of her looking so dejected and I step forward without thinking and knock on the door.

She freezes for a second before slowly looking up. Her eyes widen when the land on me and she stumbles to her feet, almost tripping over the blanket in her haste to get to the door.

She flings it open, breathing heavily and staring at me with her bloodshot eyes.

“Hey,” I whisper softly and it takes only a couple of seconds for her to throw her arms around my neck and sob into my shoulder.

For the first time in seven years it feels like a huge weight has been lifted off my shoulders and I wrap my arms around her waist and pull her infinitely closer.

The familiar smell of her vanilla shampoo makes my own eyes sting and I choke out a sob.

“You’re here,” she says against my skin, refusing to let go. “I don’t understand. Mon El said you stayed in the future.”

I want to be angry at that revelation, but I just can’t be when I have her in my arms. I press a kiss to her temple and let my lips linger for a moment. “No, I’m here. I’m right here, and I’m not going anywhere ever again.”

Kara’s arms around me tighten and I bend down to pick her up by the back of her legs, carrying her inside.

She wraps her legs around my waist as I close the door behind us, and breathes heavily against my neck.

I move toward the couch and sit down, holding her in my lap as she continues to cling to me.

We stay like that until her sobs die down and she pulls back to look me in the eyes. Her hands cup my cheeks and she traces her thumbs over my cheekbones.

“I love you,” she croaks and I let out a shaky breath, pressing my forehead against hers.

My hands find their way to her hips and I squeeze carefully, whispering, “I love you, too.”

Kara brushes her nose against mine and pecks my lips tentatively. It sends sparks through my body and I respond immediately and move forward for more.

She hums, satisfied, and deepens the kiss by tugging at my bottom lip with her teeth. I gasp in surprise and she uses the opportunity to slip her tongue past my lips and brush it against my own.

It’s a feeling I’ve been craving since she kissed me for the first time and I haven’t stopped thinking about it for the past seven years.

Much too soon for my liking, Kara pulls back. She rests her hands on my chest and traces her index finger along the chain of the necklace she gave me. “Listen, I know it’s been seven years for you, but you have to know that it’s only been seven months for me since you left,” she reveals quietly and I feel my stomach drop when she adds, “So, you know, I get it if you’ve moved on. I mean, Mon El got married, so surely you—“

I cut her off with a soft kiss, letting my lips trail over her cheek and jaw before they land on her neck.

I nip slightly at her sensitive skin, drawing a barely audible moan from her before pulling back completely to meet her eyes.

“I would wait a lifetime if it meant I got to see you again,” I admit, my eyes darting between hers. Then to lighten the mood, I joke, “But I sure hope you haven’t moved on yet because if you have you’re going to be in quite a bit of trouble.”

The smile that lights up her face makes my heart flutter and she quickly shakes her head, denying that she’s seeing anyone.

“I haven’t gotten over you since you left and I honestly don’t know if I ever would have, but that doesn’t matter anymore. You’re here now and I’m not letting you go again.” She whispers that last part and closes the distance between us again to press a kiss to my neck right below my ear.

It makes me shudder and when she smiles against my skin, knowing exactly the effect she has on me, I pinch her side playfully.

She giggles and trails kisses up the side of my face, all the way across my forehead and down my nose until her lips land on mine in a short peck.

“So, what now? What’s going to happen to you and the Legion?” she asks, finding my hand to play with the Legion ring.

I shrug and trace patterns on her lower back with my unoccupied hand. “I will have some words with Mon El and the others about not waking me up, but I can promise you that I’m not going anywhere anytime soon. You’re stuck with me now.”

Kara laughs softly and squeezes my hand, wiggling forward on my lap so she can rest against my chest, her head tucked into the crook of my neck. “Good because I really want to go on dates with you and make you breakfast in bed.”

I smile and kiss the top of her head. “I can’t wait.”

________________________________________________

Jesus, that was a long one, but I needed a break from No Matter What. . .

[its-avalon-08]

Hey lovely, can i make a request for Daniel Ricciardo fic based on But daddy i love him by Taylor? You can have free reign on it, but just that line "me and my wild boy and all of his wild joy" is so Daniel and has been stuck in my head for ages. Something fluffy and funny, so whatever you want (maybe even a pregnancy reveal 👀👀) if you see fit i just love that song and it's so big ric coded.

Love your work!!! Thank you so much 🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼

but daddy i love him (dr3)

(please bear with me this one is extra long, ily all)

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

the start of the most beautiful things in y/n's life were often masked by difficulties and plagued with the anxieties of life. but when danny was around, things just fell into place. time seemed to stop and the fast paced world began to still.

clutching their pearls, sighing "what a mess"

the air in your childhood home crackled with a tension thicker than the gravy simmering on the stove. you sat across from danny, his smile a little too wide, your dad's gaze narrowed like a hawk eyeing a squirrel.

"so, danny," your dad began, his voice gruff, "you're a… racing driver, is that right?"

"yes sir," danny chimed, a touch too enthusiastically. "formula one, actually! just signed with mclaren for next season."

your dad grunted, poking his mashed potatoes with a fork. "formula one, huh? sounds… dangerous."

"it can be," danny admitted, "but safety's paramount these days, you know?" he flashed a winning grin. "plus, the adrenaline rush? unbelievable."

your dad snorted. "adrenaline rush. sounds like you live life on the edge, son."

you shot your dad a warning glare. "dad, be nice."

he sighed, leaning back in his chair. "honey, I just want to make sure he's responsible. you deserve someone stable, someone who won't make you worry constantly."

"dad!" you exclaimed, cheeks burning. "he's not a reckless teenager, he's a professional athlete! and he takes care of himself."

screaming "but daddy i love him!"

danny, bless his heart, interjected, "exactly! I train like a champion, eat healthy, the whole nine yards. your daughter's in good hands, sir."

the tension remained, a thick fog in the air. dinner progressed in tense silence, punctuated only by the clinking of cutlery. you stole glances at danny, his usual sunny disposition dampened. it broke your heart.

suddenly, your dad cleared his throat. "so, danny," he began, a hint of curiosity in his voice. "you said you race for mclaren? ever met lewis hamilton?"

you watched in surprise as danny's face lit up. "met him? I race alongside him! absolute legend, that man. we have some epic battles on the track."

for the next hour, the conversation flowed. your dad, a former racing enthusiast himself, peppered danny with questions about the sport, its history, the intricacies of car setup. danny, more than happy to oblige, regaled him with stories, technical details, even pulling out his phone to show pictures of him with lewis.

by the end of the night, your dad was chuckling at a particularly funny anecdote about a rogue pigeon causing a pit stop delay. he clapped danny on the back with a newfound warmth. "alright, alright, danny. you alright in my book. just take care of my daughter, you hear?"

danny, his grin back in full force, squeezed your hand. "wouldn't dream of it, sir. consider yourself one of my biggest fans from now on."

as you walked danny to his car later, a comfortable silence settled between you. "thanks for being patient with him," you whispered, leaning into his side.

i know he's crazy but he's the one i want

he wrapped his arm around you, pulling you close. "your dad just wants the best for you, that's all. and seeing you happy… that's all I want too." he planted a soft kiss on your forehead. "besides, I think I scored some serious brownie points tonight, wouldn't you say?"

you laughed, the sound echoing in the quiet night. "maybe just enough to convince him that a formula one driver can be perfectly responsible... especially when he makes my daughter this happy."

time skip

the sun beat down on the golden sands of miami beach, the gentle waves lapping at the shore lulling you into a state of pure bliss. sprawled out on your beach towel, sunglasses perched on your nose, you were lost in a trashy romance novel, the sound of danny's playful laughter occasionally breaking through your concentration.

suddenly, a shadow fell over you. you peeked over your sunglasses to see danny, a mischievous glint in his eyes, standing over you. before you could even register what was happening, he swooped down, scooping you up in his arms like a prize.

now i'm dancing in my dress in the sun and

"hey!" you shrieked, a surprised laugh escaping your lips. the book tumbled into the sand, forgotten.

with a triumphant yell, danny sprinted towards the ocean. the cool water rushed at you as he plunged in, carrying you with him. you shrieked again, this time with delight, water splashing everywhere.

when danny finally set you down, the waves lapping at your waists, you couldn't help but grin at him. his hair was plastered to his forehead, and a carefree smile stretched across his face.

i'm his lady, and oh my god

"you're a menace, ricciardo!" you exclaimed, shaking your head playfully.

he just laughed, the sound echoing across the beach. then, in a flash, he was pulling you closer, his arms wrapping around your waist. you giggled as he dipped you backwards, the cool water washing over you both.

when he pulled you back up, his eyes held a playful fire. before you could say anything, he leaned in, his lips meeting yours in a kiss that was warm, sweet, and tasted faintly of salt. you melted into him, the world around you fading away.

me and my wild boy and all of this wild joy

the kiss ended with a sigh, foreheads resting against each other. you looked into his eyes, their blue depths sparkling with love and adoration.

"you're crazy," you whispered, a smile blooming on your face.

"only for you," he replied, his voice husky. he brushed a stray strand of hair from your cheek, his thumb gently tracing the curve of your jaw.

you sighed contentedly, leaning into his touch. in that moment, with the sun warming your skin, the sound of the waves crashing in your ears, and danny by your side, everything felt perfect. you wouldn't trade this feeling for the world.

time skip

you fidgeted with the hotel room balcony railing, the bustling city of monaco blurring below. danny, oblivious, was humming along to the pre-race hype blaring from the tv. today was his big day, the monaco grand prix, and the nervous energy crackling in the air was almost tangible. you, however, were grappling with a different kind of jitters.

taking a deep breath, you approached him, the small velvet box clutched tightly in your hand. "danny," you began, voice barely above a whisper. he glanced up, a dazzling smile splitting his face.

"hey there, sunshine," he said, reaching out to pull you into a quick hug. "ready for the race?"

"actually," you mumbled, biting your lip, "there's something I need to tell you before you go."

he frowned playfully, his brow crinkling in mock seriousness. "is it that you secretly placed a giant shoey on toto wolff's yacht?"

you laughed, a little relieved at the lighter mood. "no, nothing like that. it's… well, it's important."

he set the tv remote down, his smile softening. "alright, come here," he patted the space next to him on the plush couch. you sat down, fiddling with the box in your lap. the words seemed to get stuck in your throat, a tangled mess of nerves.

"danny," you tried again, voice shaking slightly, "we might need to… postpone those post-race victory celebrations."

now I'm running with my dress unbuttoned

he chuckled, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "losing faith in your honey badger already? don't worry, I've got this."

frustration bubbled up. "no, it's not that! it's… it's…" you squeezed the box so hard your knuckles turned white. "i'm pregnant, danny!"

the playful smile vanished, replaced by a look of utter confusion. "pre… what now?" he asked, brow furrowed.

panic clawed at you. was this the wrong approach? "pregnant! as in, a baby, danny! we're having a baby!" you blurted out, your voice bordering on a squeak.

i'm having his baby

the confusion on his face morphed into a look of dawning realization. his eyes widened, then welled up with tears. a choked sob escaped his lips. he whipped his head towards the balcony door and threw it open, a joyous yell erupting from his throat.

"we're having a baby!" he bellowed across the bustling streets of monte carlo, his voice thick with emotion.

i know he's crazy but he's the one i want

he turned back to you, a goofy grin splitting his face, tears streaming down his cheeks. before you could even react, he swept you into a tight embrace, the box tumbling onto the floor with a soft thud. he squeezed you like a lifeline, muttering incoherent words of joy into your hair.

his emotions were infectious. you clung to him, tears welling up in your own eyes. he pulled back, his hands cupping your face. he peppered your cheeks, forehead, your nose, with kisses, every kiss filled with a love so profound it took your breath away.

"this is… this is incredible, y/n," he finally managed to say, his voice hoarse. he pulled you close again, resting his forehead against yours. "we're having a baby. we're going to be parents."

he was chaos, he was revelry

the celebratory noises from outside were a distant hum, drowned out by the frantic thumping of your heart and the overwhelming sense of happiness washing over you. in that moment, in danny's arms, with the promise of a new life growing inside you, the world seemed to shimmer with possibility. you couldn't wait to start this incredible adventure together.

but oh my god you should see your faces

[georgiapeach30513]

Your Mark On Me, Part 15

Summary: things are no good.

Pairings: Steve Rogers X Reader

Rating: explicit. Dead dove do not eat

Warnings:  explicit language, explicit dark content, kidnapping, mentions of drug abuse, mentions of stealing money, degradation (not for sexual play), spitting, hitting, pinching, slapping, restraining, mocking, blood, human auction, forced removal of IUD, realization of voyeurism, sexual recordings without knowledge, dark imagery 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 5.4K

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Series Masterlist

*dividers created by @firefly-graphics

Rage. Blinding hot rage that boils every ounce of his blood. Hating himself doesn’t even cover it. Leaving you the way he did as a broken shell of the woman that he first met. You had shown resilience to his impossible needs. You had fallen so hard, and he still withheld how he truly felt for you.

The threat was enough to not just chill him all the way to the core of his being, but the video — whoever it was had caught him. Caught exactly what you meant to him on video. Words he had never spoken in years, and they had the evidence. Coupled with the threat of not only you, but Bucky’s Shy Violet. His unborn son. And Steve could not be responsible for that much pain.

Steve can barely see as he flees the hotel he left you in. A crumpled mess. A true depiction of the barren wasteland he left your heart. People don’t love as deeply as you did, and have someone rip it out with scars that may never heal. He’s an example of that. And he did it to the only person who he had ever truly been in love with.

He meant every word to you this morning, even the ones you would never hear. Why did this person, this entity hate him so much that he would threaten three people that had no part in this scheme? He had to tell Bucky. He also had to be able to visually see, and he can’t put anything into words except the red hot coils of desire to burn down the world.

Questioning if what he did was the right answer. He was told they knew his weakness, and you would be removed from his life. He beat them to it. He took away the person that they knew was his the one that would destroy him. But who? Who hated him that much to want to destroy him? Clearly it was competition but there was only one person, or people that were competitive with Steve.

“Sam?” The other man sighs. Hearing Steve's voice as wrecked as it was didn’t take much to realize what the idiot had done. “Who’s watching her?”

“You put Loki outside. Told him to watch her for a few weeks. Said that you figured she would move on. But you’re a fucking idiot.”

“They,” he yanks the steering wheel to the side of the road, throwing his car into park before pressing his palms into his eyes, and wills the tears to not spill over his lashes, “They were going to kill her and Bucky’s Shy, and…your family.”

“Figured as much. I told Nat to get the kids to the safe house. Just like you should have done with Dove. With her and Bucky there everyone would have been safe. You’re too fucking irrational. You don’t think. You should have discussed with me, and we could have came up with a plan. But you didn’t like that I heard what you said,” Steve pulls at wads of his hair, and he slams his fist on the steering wheel. “Love doesn’t make you weak.”

“I told you that you didn’t hear anything,” still in this world of denial and wanting to protect his ego. His pride? Protect anything but the person he truly cared about. You.

“You love her. You’re a coward that couldn’t even tell her to her fucking face. Is a million dollars really going to make up for what you did? You’re the problem here, Steve. She was the solution. Go back. Go get her, and I’ll take her to the safe house. I’ll leave Nat and Bucky with the kids, and Shy, and we will figure out what the fuck is going on,” Steve shakes his head. You hated him. He made sure to make you feel worthless to him, and hope that one day you could move on.

The thought of another man touching your flesh sears into his mind. Thinking this dumbass could ever hold you and love you the way he did. It was a toxic love, but he found serenity in your bright glow. The devil came to find his goddess of spring. The link that kept his underground hell blooming into the most beautiful chaotic garden.

Every morning he could see the sun shining on your face like you were the beacon, and it was trying to find you. But instead, Steve did. He tried to dim every bit of your light, and instead you changed him. And how did he repay you? He left you, his beautiful goddess, a void. Gave you every opportunity to turn into the darkness that he helped flourish. Instead, you were making him lighter.

You had a link to the depravity of his world that was Lark, and one wrong move and you would become a demon to addiction. A beautiful woman lively turned into a servant for drugs and the underbelly that he helped create. Try and be noble all he wants, he still sold a lie to users. He catered to the whims of one of the most powerful things in the world. Addiction.

“Sam,” he says as he starts to turn the car around. “I made a mistake.”

“Get your girl. I’m calling Bucky. We’ll keep her safe, and we finish this once and for all. It’s time,” without hesitation and very little thought Steve knows exactly where the threat came from. Peggy. The one who set this all off to begin with. No doubt a woman who thought she had broken Steve would be infuriated that he had managed to actually fall this time. The purest form of love. Childlike. He was in fact so in love with you it hurt him.

Pained every inch of his inky skin. He was only trying to let his Dove out of her cage, and let her fly alone. He was no longer the cage that kept you trapped. He was made pure again, and was a dove right along with you. He wasn’t meant to set you free, he was meant to fly out of his own cage with you.

He fucked up. He knows you may never forgive him for this whiplash, but if it meant that you were going to keep your life, that was the burden he would have to bear. He would carry the weight of that on his back for the rest of eternity as long as he knew you were alive and well. He had to. Because he was in love.

You don’t cry. You barely blink. Couldn’t even move to clean yourself off as per his request. That towel lays haphazardly on his spilt cum, and you stare up at the ceiling trying to make this a nightmare. He was a liar. That wasn’t Steve, and as much as you wanted to cut etches of his story off his skin, you wanted him to hold you even more.

It is a bizarre feeling to hate and need the same person. Time has no meaning on this bed. Earlier today you saw him for the man he used to be before Peggy tried to destroy him. And then he burned that man at the stake as he became the monster you first met. The lord of the underworld, and he brought you down into his depths, but maybe it was all one sided.

Watching as the room spins around you in a humiliating and dizzying haze. It’s why he couldn’t look at you. He has fought and fought his true feelings, and because he couldn’t accept them he had to remove the seed that was sprouting in his heart. The seed that was changing winter into spring and you saw lightness and color that once resided inside of his soul.

You hate him. And still, you’re in love with him, and you need him to hold you and tell you that wasn’t him. That he was sorry, and he was so in love with you and he was done fighting, and you doubt that moment will ever come. If you could close your eyes and never wake up that would be the most fitting. You didn’t want to see anything anymore.

“Dove?” Your eyes stare blankly up at the ceiling, and you swear there’s a pattern to the odd appearance of it. Dots that you feel are just the stars, and they’re covering you in a warm blanket. As warm as the fuzz that is thrown over your body.

“Sissy, how much money did he leave you?” Your blinks start to slow down, and you hope that they’ll eventually close forever so you don’t have this sickening feeling in your stomach. “I’m going to take this and invest in — things, yeah. You don’t need it. You’ve got your school you can bounce back on, okay?”

If there is one thing you wished it was that Steve could have quit fighting the inevitable. That he would have just admitted the feelings he had for you, and the two of you could run away. Money and power are just as dark of an addiction as the drugs he sold. And he was letting his addiction win.

“Won’t you let me get you dressed. You don’t want to leave here naked. And — he didn’t love you. That mess on your stomach is how he treats the girls he threw away at the club. Used their warm flesh to fill a need, and then…”

“You’re lying,” your eyes finally focus on your sister, and you turn and look away from her quickly. She no longer was the vibrant older sister you once knew. Either Steve had been lying about your addiction and usage, or she had found another supplier. “What happened to you?”

“You should look in the mirror,” you didn’t want to look at your face. You’d look like a bird with clipped wings that could no longer fly because that’s just what you feel like. “Get dressed.”

“What are you doing with the money?” You inquire. But she doesn’t respond just goes towards your bag, and opens up one. Tossing over a dress, and you finally take stock of what’s going on. Sitting up in the bed so see her clinging to the bag with cash in it. The stupor you were once in now is a dull pain of the past hour. “Lark?”

The door opens up to your room, and scramble to cover yourself. You know him. “Dovey, it’s time for you to go. He’s been waiting on you,” tears flood out your eyes as you shake your head. “You really want him to see you with Steve’s cum on your stomach. Your pussy fucked out, and tits hanging out? Now,” he clicks his tongue, snapping a finger at Lark, and your sister scurries out of the hotel room.

“It’s just you and me,” grabbing at your foot, he pulls you down to him and you kick and scream. Biting every time his hands touch you. Your reason to fight became apparent because whatever is wrong is worse than the empty gut you have now. “He threw you away!”

“Fuck you!”

“Keep fighting me, and it’s you that’s going to be fucked,” clearing his throat your room is flooded with men, and they all close in on you, struggling to hold on to your body before with one snap, you go into blackness. A darker world than you have ever ventured to. A world where things will never be the same. Left and broken, now stolen and restored. Fight is still there.

Steve sprints to your bedroom, racing through every part of it. Knowing without seeing physically that you’re gone. His hands pick up and throw everything in its path. Destroying the room just like he destroyed you. The luggage with clothes is still here, but the suitcase with money was gone.

Lifting up the mattress he flips it over, standing in the fucking room that was devoid of you. You were gone, and he can’t shake the feeling that you were taken. Stolen from this room, and from — he can’t even say himself anymore. Because he left you. You weren’t his to steal. He fucked up.

Chest heaving as his mind races on where you could be. He has an idea of who took you and it sickens him. He sees what Lark has become. Rumlow was the worst kind of drug dealer, because he dealt in more than just drugs, he dealt in women.

“Steve.”

“I fucked up,” he turns around. Eyes pleading at Bucky. “Why are you here?”

“Sam’s with the girls. I’m risking my life and the chance to see my future son because I can’t imagine what you’re going through. You fucked up, but I can’t let you wonder your what ifs or wonder where she is. I can’t let you lose the love of your life,” Steve shakes his head, the anger turning into the worst pain he’s ever felt in his life. As the last of his humanity is wrenched from his fingers. “Why can’t you say it? Does she mean that little to you?”

“She means more than any amount fucking words, Bucky. She means everything. Shy and Ember were threatened. Nat and the girls, and a lot don’t even know that Sam and Nat are together and have kids. Why do they want her?”

“They’re trying to make your kingdom crumble. The dark lord of the seedy underbelly. Ruled by fear and power. For a drug lord you had some morals, if that’s what you want to call it. And there’s…”

“Peggy,” Steve gulps, glancing around the room that is as messy as his head. Disheveled in every crevice. He has to clear his mind if he’s ever going to find you.

“I want you to make me a promise,” Steve nods. Taking a few deep breaths to center himself. It ends now. He won’t hold back. It’s time to burn the world down to save you. Rumlow’s entire organization will disintegrate. He doesn’t even care where the two of you end up. He needs to know you’re alive, and living the life you want. And he hopes you still can find a place to put him in it.

“If we find Dove, I need you to tell her exactly how you feel, you coward. Quit waiting until the girl falls asleep before you say it.”

“Deal.”

“Let’s go save a dove.”

You could look at Steve trying to destroy you as a good thing. There’s a numbness that courses through your veins, or maybe it’s just a sleepy fog since the moment he walked out that door. Staring at the sleeping form of the man that tattooed you while your arms are restrained above your head, you wonder how you slipped this far into this world of darkness. Your will to fight dormant and resting. Now you observe. Paying attention to everything while you remember every bit of this moment. Something eventually had to help.

You don’t hate Steve. In fact the reason he did what he did seems to be to avoid this bullshit right here. Protecting you from whatever this hell is, but he failed. He let the wrong one watch you. And your own sister somehow played a part. You’d cuss him for the fool that he is when he comes to rescue you. And then allow your exhaustion and anger to rain down him with a fury that is hibernating.

Your eyes start to droop a bit. The adrenaline and heart shattering moments hitting a climax so high that your body is spent. There is no time for fear, and no time for anger. It’s survival. Steve would find you, and you would kick him in his perfect balls for ever hurting you. Even though the idea of him throwing that door open to save you like a scarred Prince Charming was looking damn fine, you can’t ignore what he did.

“How long has it been?” A sickeningly sweet voice walks into the room, and her beady eyes look you up and down. “What is she wearing?”

“Whatever I could put on her. You said you didn’t want Rumlow to see her the way I found her. You’re still so concerned with him leaving you for someone else?” His head bounces to the side with the force of the smack she connects to his face. “Why else do you need her covered?”

“I don’t need to see what cunt Steve’s been shagging. Pretending that she was the only one while he was fucking Rumlow’s whores at the club,” you roll your eyes, but refuse to comment. Sam kept tabs on Steve, and even told you he’s never seen him so much as glance at another woman. Her tactics of wearing you down were futile. You couldn’t sink any lower. The bottom has already been reached and all in a few short hours.

“You’ve been fucking like rabbits, and he still hasn’t fucked a baby in you?” You spit on her, gaining a slap against your own cheek. Her red painted nail wipes of your saliva from her face before she embarrassingly rubs it on your face.

“That’s rich coming from a double crossing bitch. You can only smack me when I can’t fight back?”

“You’re a bitchy one, aren’t ya? So tell me, sweet princess, how have you remained without a bastard?”

“It’s called birth control, you idiot.”

“One I need to cut out of your arm? Or rip it out from between your legs? Or do you trust the pill?” What the fuck was this woman getting off on? You aren’t even sure what her fucking problem was, or why it concerned you so much. “Rumlow has suffered with his business, while Steve flourishes. He needs to be destroyed, but I much prefer slow torture,” her fingernails connect to your arm, and she uses far too much pressure to slide all over the delicate skin of your arms before her eyes zone in on your lower body.

”Remove it.”

“What the fuck? No!”

“Stick another fucking needle in her neck and remove it,” she is psychotic. More than Steve could have ever realized. “You know your pretty sister? Yeah, it was easy to break her spirit. It’s funny what money and drugs can get people to do. What would destroy Steve? To see you broken from another human. To see you as a ghost of who you were. A zombie that he can’t even recognize. You know how many people are willing to bid for Steve’s precious Dove? Use your body to work out their frustrations on their biggest competition. Your sister sold you out for money and drugs, but the good thing is she is no longer being pimped out. But you — Steve will never want you again. Remove it. She can be someone else’s problem.”

Her stilettos click out of your room, and Loki stands up to walk closer to you. You flail, screaming out obscenities and no towards him. Having very little room to get any leverage over him. They were all fucking mental. “No! Don’t touch me.”

”It’ll only sting for a minute. You keep getting stuck with this, you’re going to have a bigger problem,” his voice is cloying in your ear as he grabs your face. Coming closer to you with a needle before it drives into your body.

“No! No! Please, no!” Another wave of blackness. Falling into an oblivion of a dark void that has no end in sight. Whispering out, “No,” one more time, and crying because no one can hear you. Being stripped away from the only salvation you knew, and now becoming the exact opposite of what Steve desired the most in you. Untouched. She wanted to sell you, auction you off while Steve can either be searching for you, or pretending you never existed.

You just want to go home. Home to the cabin, and pretend that he was coming home to you. Hold onto happy moments while your humanity is ripped from you. You hate her.

Your head lulls back on your shoulders, and the dingy light of the room tries to filter through the darkness, and you try to grasp it. Hoping that light can save your soul from the monster Peggy was forcing you to become. You hate her.

He didn’t like it. He hated it. Hated that you were ever put in this position, and he had himself more to blame than anyone. The very thought of something going wrong just wasn’t an option. He didn’t need anything to go wrong. He needed you. He needs to know that you are okay, and you were free to live a life.

The thoughts of you choosing a life that didn’t include him was on his mind, but he couldn’t think of that. Everything had to be perfectly planned out. He knew that Peggy was a vindictive bitch, while Rumlow was a pathetic one. He assumes that they’re hoping for an appearance by him.

It wasn’t a secret what they were doing. Everyone knew they were putting you up for auction. The reception went from an absolutely no because they knew Steve’s vengeance would be grisly to the ones that were drooling and licking their jowls at a chance to fuck Steve over. But retaliation would happen. To all of them. There would be a retribution on every single person that participates in the selling of you.

Every last one of them will get the fiery death of his dreams, and if you wanted to facilitate he would let you watch as they all burn. He failed in the one thing he promised above all else and that was to protect you. He’d make it up. He would get you. Or he would watch it all burn.

—

There’s moments in your life where you freeze up. Your body goes into autopilot, and you’re just there. Going through the motions. While your body is numb to every poke, prod, and movement by someone else. Your mind is on high alert. Listening to every door open. Absorbing every conversation. Your eyes take stock of all that is around you. Memorize every face as you dream about their demise.

You knew there would come a time when you had to identify people because you still hadn’t given up hope that Steve would keep his promise. Rumlow was a boastful idiot and he was letting everyone know who he was going to have up on that stage. Steve would hear about it, and you didn’t doubt that he would have fun in taking care of everything.

That’s not to say that you didn’t want to add another scar on Steve’s body, and you wanted to scratch him, and maul his perfect face, but you need him to wrap those stupid beefy arms around you and carry you out of this disgusting place. You know if you allow your mind to go into the dark places that you would lose all hope, and you’d never stop crying. Or worse become the devil Peggy was trying to make you.

You didn’t even speak to them when they’d ask you questions. You’d just stare at them blankly as they pinched, slapped, and pushed you around. You wouldn’t allow yourself to let them break you. Not yet. When this is all over you could have those moments of clarity, but right now it’s just to survive. And that meant focusing on everything.

You even knew it took Loki exactly thirty-four steps to get to the chair that set outside of your cage. And another forty-two steps to get to the door. You knew that he was the biggest coward of all, and needed to hide behind a more powerful man. Scheming and lying through his teeth while he collects secrets and information as his own form of currency.

He was loathsome. Peggy was the worst bitch you had ever met in your life. A woman who didn’t want Steve, and also couldn’t bare to see him happy with another woman. The kind of woman whose ego got in the way of the bigger picture. While Rumlow was describable he had bigger reasons for doing this. Peggy’s reasons didn’t go past needing to make Steve feel emasculated.

Disgusting woman, all dolled up for a pretty picture. Steve wasn’t a hero, but he could admit it. She wants to act like there was a moral high ground that she was part of, and still involved with another drug lord. That man just didn’t ask questions. You’d come to learn that Steve did, and that’s why Peggy had to ruin him.

“Are you still sore?” It is a stupid question when your arms were always extended above your head, the fact that she made people remove something so personal from you. Sore didn’t even begin to describe it. “You still mad at me, princess? And if you fucking spit on me again…”

You roll your eyes up to meet her, a sinister smile tugging at your mouth. “Ghastly woman. It’s what you deserve. You can pay for Steve’s sins. They always do,” another one of her tactics is to make you think you were nothing but a fleshlight to Steve. But you knew better. “Do you know how many girls that he has made become a sex worker? Rumor has it he filmed porn right in the club.”

Blah blah blah. You did actually talk to Steve. You also listened. It’s something she didn’t do well. Cocky little bitches never wanted to be the quiet little girls that people think aren’t threatening. Like you. She sees a weak submissive bird. You weren’t weak, and you weren’t dumb. You had more knowledge than she could even fathom about the ongoings of Steve’s enterprise. And there’s one thing she forgets, those sex workers Steve employed had a choice. She had removed yours.

“Are you going to play your game of not talking again?” Smirking, you roll your eyes before concentrating on her shoes. You weren’t going to give her the respect to look her in her face. “You’re such a spoiled child. Did your daddy Steve not spank you enough?”

“Nope,” Steve was not your daddy. He was your Captain.

“You do speak,” god, she’s a pompous twat. If she was closer you would spit on her, just for telling you not to.

“I don’t make it habit of talking to trollops,” with a painted red nail, she slaps you across the face, and your mouth fills with the pungent taste of metal. You gather it in your mouth, waiting. She is already getting closer to you.

“You fucking bitch. I will enjoy seeing you sold, and I will revel in the ways that they use your body to fuck over Steve. And that man never cared for you. You were just warm wet flesh,” one step too close to you, and you let her feel the blood she brought with her slap. The red paints her neck such a brilliant color and you chuckle, “You were just a whore to him. Let him fuck you raw. Intimately. Wanna see?”

Spinning on her heels, she snaps a finger at Loki, “I want Steve fucking her stupid on a loop. Let her watch every moment that was ever a lie. Break her fucking spirit, so she knows Steve never loved her. He couldn’t. Because he loved me, and will always look for a replacement. But there's only one me,” if only she knew that the love that Steve felt for her was nothing compared to how he felt about you. You knew it. He told you.

The sound of his voice stings as the monitor is lit up with the two of you. Precious moments stolen, and there is no telling how many people had seen this. You keep your eyes on Steve, more than you ever did while he was pumping into you. Steve never said the words, but he also couldn’t act. The way he stares at you with so much passion and love, versus the anger he had when he broke up with you. Such a lying coward.

You sniffle, refusing to let any tears cloud your vision or run down your face. You were becoming immune to the physical pain, but seeing a private beautiful moment with Steve hurts so deeply. Even the way he paints your skin with his fingers after making love. Yeah, Steve fucked you and would fuck you hard, but what you just witnessed was sweet. Almost like the first time.

Out of the corner of your eye you see Loki staring at you, and you twist your head to gaze back quickly, causing him to flinch. “When you came to our home…”

“It was just a place for him to hide you and fuck you. Don’t make it seem so domestic.”

“Was this your plan all along? Fuck Steve over?” He shrugs his shoulders, moving to turn back around after making a face with Steve’s grunts on the television. “He’ll enjoy torturing you.”

“You think very highly of yourself. Where were you at when I found you? Broken, naked, and used on a bed. Let’s not forget the money your sister stole from you. What do you think she’s going to do with that much money? Face it, Dovey, everyone around you used you and then left you. Steve for your tight cunt, and your sister for money. You’re better off this way.”

“Don’t call me that,” you wouldn’t let him win. Lark’s involvement is the most painful. Your therapist long ago told you drugs changed people. But inside of that body was still your sister. Somewhere.

“Don’t cry, Dove,” he mocks you as a single tear falls from your face. There’s no sincerity in his voice. And you want him to suffer from your own hands. “I finally know what it sounds like,” and you can’t wait to hear him plead for his pathetic life. His time will come.

You gulp as someone pulls on your leash. Fitted with a dog collar, and lingerie. You stare out blankly at the crowd as words about who you are and what the bidding starts off as begins. Faceless people litter a small crowd, and raised paddles keep being held up.

You try and focus on all their faces, see who is bidding the highest, and it is a zoo. Going so fast it makes you dizzy, and you sway on your heels. The price goes too high for average schmucks, and it seems it is a war between two people.

Both the man and woman are masked, and gloved, and neither have Steve’s features. You feel yourself for the first time slipping into despair. Feeling he didn’t actually care at all, and this is the result. Being sold like cattle.

“Two million,” the man say with finality, and the woman shakes her hand, refusing to pay that much. He left you. You really were worthless to him. Played in his stupid games.

“Sold to Mr. Wolf. Come collect your new pet,” the masked man stands up without a word. Pulling the leash from your handler before scooping up in his arms. Vacant. There’s nothing left. Steve left you to rot.

“I’ve got her,” he says into your ear, and it’s a weird sensation, causing goose pimples to arise on your skin. You didn’t have any idea why he was talking to you. You just need to forget the life you once came from.

The harsh light of the outside stings your eyes, and you start to regress in your body. The fight is finally over, and you just are in disbelief. “We’re out of the building. Clint, lock it down. Steve, I’m taking her to the safe house.”

“Steve?” Your body starts to tremble as the tears you have held in for far too long pours out.

“Shh, Dovey. I’ve got you, sweetheart. We’re going someplace safe, but Steve and a few others are burning this down. “Do you know if Peggy was in there?”

“She was bidding,” your words are whispered and confused, using a hand to squeeze on his metal arm, “Bucky?”

“I’ve got you. I gotta get you away,” he places you into the car, buckling you up before he gets in the seat himself. “We’re outta here. Send them right back to hell. Dove, were there any other girls up for auction?” You shake your head no, starting to curl into a ball. Your arms are still so stiff and sore. “She was all. You’ve got free range, Steve.”

Steve’s mouth curls into a gruesome grin. Eyes blazing as he heads towards the building, “Peggy is mine. Fucking bitch.”

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