#so i tried to make it as short and accurate as possible ! but let me know if any elaboration is needed

[sparkleofstardust]

in light of the recent news that Iranian President Ebrahim Raisi has been found dead after a helicopter crash you might be wondering 'who the hell is this guy and why are so many people celebrating his death??' and i'm here to answer that!

to fully understand what's going on we need to look into Iran's history: when the Iranian revolution in 1979 happened the authoritarian king who was ruling at that time was overthrown, but the ensuing power vacuum lead to the islamic regime seizing power and establishing Iran as an islamic republic

the following years were incredibly cruel to the Iranian people; thousands of people (especially minorities) have been protesting against the strict islamic regime leading to many being jailed, tortured and executed.

and this is where Raisi played a big part: in 1988 he was part of a committee that ordered the execution of thousands of political prisoners who were protesting the islamic regime, earning himself the title of "the butcher of tehran"

do not be fooled by what the state media wants you to believe, the Iranian people are celebrating his death. he was a cruel mass murderer who has destroyed the lives of thousands of people, his death should be used as a time to mourn for all the suffering he has caused, and bring new attention to the political prisoners still being held in Iranian prisions today

because sadly the fight is far from over. many of you have probably heard of the murder of Mahsa Jina Amini back in 2022, causing a new wave of nationwide protests and establishing the "woman, life, freedom" movement. the regime has gotten increasingly cruel in their treatment of the Iranian people, especially women, but the people of Iran are not deterred and keep fighting for a free Iran.

if you want to know how you can help, please keep talking about us. the one thing the regime hates is international attention, and in the past it has been proven that international pressure has stopped the regime from executing various political prisoners. people like Toomaj Salehi are under imminent threat of execution and spreading their names could save their lives. so whether you share social media posts or talk to your family and friends about what is happening in Iran, anything helps 🙏🏼

jin, jiyan, azadi ✌🏼

[ellemj]

Right Here: 12 Days of Smut #6

Bucky Barnes x Reader One-Shot

Summary: The team decides to interrupt your spicy moment with Bucky. The two of you have to sit through a debate about Christmas movies while being as discrete as possible about what's going on beneath the blanket that's covering both of your laps.

Warnings: profanity, teasing, cockwarming, slight exhibitionism, fingering, unprotected sex, sex in a common area, dirty talk, MINORS DNI, 18+!!!

Feel free to comment and let me know if this requires any other warnings.

Word Count: 1.8k (it's a lil one)

A/N: I let @littlemiss-yeehaw read this first and her biggest concern was that I originally spelled Santa Clause without an 'e' on the end and she wasn't having it. But special thanks to her for catching my embarrassing mistakes and keeping me from having a big head.

            It’s so damn big. It’s so big that you don’t know how the hell you’re supposed to sit still and stay quiet enough to make it through the next fifteen minutes until everyone has gone their separate ways for bed. It’s so big that even just taking a deep breath is too much movement for your body to handle. It is so fucking big that Bucky doesn’t know how you’re taking it so well. He knows his size is pushing you right to the edge of your limits, he knows you’re probably feeling more pain than pleasure in this moment, and honestly, all of that only makes him want to hold you here longer.

            Bucky probably doesn’t even know that there’s a word for what you’re doing right now. You know he’s still a decent bit behind the times when it comes to modern-day dating and sexual education, so there’s no way he would have the vocabulary to accurately describe what this is. It’s cockwarming. If he knew the word for it, he’d add it to his list of favorite things. He might even go as far as writing it down in that little notebook he got from Steve. It’s the best thing he’s experienced since the first time he slept with you.

            “Come on, nothing beats the original Santa Clause movies with Tim Allen. You can’t tell me that you really think Home Alone is better.” Sam says while giving Wanda a look of disbelief. The group has been arguing back and forth about Christmas movies for the last five minutes. You and Bucky had been watching, or more accurately listening to whatever festive flick was suggested first when you’d originally settled in for a movie by yourself.  It wasn’t long before Bucky finished up in the gym, showered, and found you looking all irresistible on the couch. You were curled up under your little fleece blanket with a mug of hot cocoa in one hand and the other hand running through your hair. You barely even noticed Bucky when he joined you on the couch, completely invested in the most mediocre movie you could’ve chosen. That’s when he started running a hand up your thigh, innocently at first. He let his fingertips grace your skin so lightly, gliding back and forth from your knee up to the hem of your little pajama shorts. He liked the way you tried to pretend that it didn’t give you goosebumps or make your panties a little wetter than before. He knew that he had you right where he wanted you when he let his pinky finger brush over the fabric of your panties, just underneath your shorts, and you didn’t make a single move to stop him. In fact, you actually spread your legs a little more for him, giving him a silent go-ahead. Somehow, all of that built up and led to where you are now, firmly seated on his lap with your shorts and panties pulled to the side, silently sitting with Bucky’s entire length buried deep inside of you.          

            The Christmas movie argument drones on around you with no sign of dying off as you fight to breathe as slow and even as you can. Bucky’s impressive girth has always been an adjustment for you, no matter how many times you’ve fucked. He always has to give you a minute or two to get used to his size before pushing himself all the way in, but there wasn’t any time for that tonight. He had been watching the tip of his cock disappear inside of you when you both heard the commotion in the hallway, warning you that you were about to be interrupted by the rest of the team. Your first instinct was to get off of him and take your seat beside him on the couch but Bucky just couldn’t let that happen, so he gripped your hips even tighter and pulled you all the way down onto his lap. You let a whimper escape your lips at the stinging pain you felt increasing with every inch that penetrated your tight little entrance, but quickly silenced yourself and sat still as Bucky arranged the throw blanket just right to cover both of you from prying eyes.

            “You’re so fucking tight. If you don’t relax, you’re going to make me cum in front of everyone.” Bucky grunts in your ear, his words so hushed and whispered that no one could have possibly heard him except for you. You take a deep breath, trying your best to relax around him. You focus in on Wanda’s speech about why Home Alone is the superior Christmas movie, but your focus is quickly broken when you feel Bucky’s right hand slip under the blanket and slide along the outside of your thigh. You want to tell him to keep his hands to himself, to calm the fuck down until you can get away from everyone and have a little privacy, but there’s no way for you to do that without revealing your current situation to everyone. So, you sit there, gently biting on your bottom lip as Bucky’s fingers reach your clit and begin rubbing agonizingly slow circles. After a few seconds of stimulation, you can feel the stinging pain of Bucky’s cock stretching your walls residing.

            “That’s it, you’re getting used to it, aren’t you?” Bucky whispers, referring to the size of his cock. You let out a sigh but don’t even offer him a nod in response, too scared that someone will start to suspect something’s going on underneath the thin blanket. “My cock isn’t too big for you, huh baby?” Fuck. He knows it’s too big for you, but he also knows how determined you always are to get used to it and take it all just for him. You’ve always been ambitious. Bucky speeds up his actions on your clit, and you’re just starting to feel that familiar feeling in the pit of your stomach when he spreads his index and middle fingers apart and slides them further in between your legs. It’s a new sensation for both of you as you feel his fingers slip between your folds and go around either side of where his dick is currently buried inside you. You feel Bucky shudder beneath you at how wet you are for him. He so wishes he could try adding a finger in alongside his dick, but he knows it would be too much for you, especially when you’re supposed to be staying quiet. He’ll save it for the next time he has you all to himself.

            You’re sick of the Christmas movie talk. You’re sick of not being able to ride Bucky’s cock until you’re a mutual mess of sweat and cum. You’re sick of sitting here so still and stoic. So, just as you think the Christmas movie talk might be nearing a close, you stretch your arms up above your head and let out an audible yawn. That small movement alone causes Bucky to move his hands to your hips abruptly, gripping you tightly as a warning for you to stop moving. You smile and pretend it’s a smile at whatever the hell Sam is saying about Santa Clause. Testing the waters, you circle your hips once, as discretely as possible. You grind down on Bucky’s cock, letting your clit press against his balls, sending a nice little rush of pleasure throughout your body.

Shit. Bucky needs everyone gone. He needs you alone right fucking now. He needs the chance to flip you over so you’re face down and ass up on the couch, giving him the perfect angle and opportunity to fuck you so hard that you won’t be able to remember what holiday you’re celebrating tomorrow. Bucky holds your hips so tightly that he knows your perfect smooth skin will be littered with bruises tomorrow, but he couldn’t care less. He keeps you still on his cock until Wanda and Vision finally stand up and bid their goodnights, heading off to bed. That leaves the two of you, Sam, and Torres. The two men remain in the living area for another two minutes until Bucky’s cold stare and your oddly out-of-character lack of conversational skills drives them both back to their separate rooms.

As soon as Bucky hears the final bedroom door shut in the distance, he’s lifting you off of his cock and tossing you onto the couch.

“Bucky, not here.” You laugh lightly at his impatience.

“Oh, we’re doing this right here. Don’t move.” Just to make sure you won’t move, Bucky places his vibranium hand over your middle back and pushes you down until you’re in the exactly position he wanted you in, before pulling your shorts and panties to the side once more with his right hand and slotting the head of his cock into your entrance. He doesn’t give you the usual amount of time to adjust, since you just sat on his entire length for so long. Instead, he slams into you and then watches as you quickly clamp a hand over your mouth. He doesn’t care how loud your bodies sound as they collide over and over again with each thrust. He doesn’t give the slightest shit that anyone could walk in right now. All Bucky cares about is feeling you come undone all over his cock.

He fucks you with every bit of pent-up frustration he’s withheld for the last fifteen minutes, dragging his cock out of you before pushing it back in repeatedly. You know he’s close when his vibranium hand leaves your back and he uses both hands to grip your hips and pull you back to meet every thrust. With your hand clamped over your mouth still, you fail to warn Bucky that you’re right on the edge of an orgasm, but you don’t even have to. He can feel the way your walls are clenching around his shaft and the way your legs are fighting to spread even more so he can reach impossibly deeper inside you. You want more, you need more.

Bucky snakes his flesh hand between your legs and begins giving your clit the stimulation that it needs to force an orgasm out of you. He fucking hates when you hold it back. As your orgasm rips through your body, causing your legs to tremble and pussy to tighten around his cock even more, Bucky continues to fuck into you until he can’t contain himself. He copies your annoying little move, refusing to tell you that he’s close. You figure it out yourself when you hear a deep groan rumble past his lips and feel him thrust one final time, making sure he’s balls-deep before filling you with his cum. He ends the night with one simple question, as he pulls his length out of you and situates your panties and pajama shorts back where they belong.

“So, do you have a favorite Christmas movie?”

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[authorhjk1]

Dea Romana

(Minatozaki Sana X Male Reader)

(Author's note:

Hi everyone! Thank you for patiently waiting for me! I'm done with writing my exams now, so I will be able to write more again until Juli. Since I like history a lot, the beginning got a bit longer than originally planned, but I hope you will be able to enjoy it nonetheless. I tried to make everything as historically accurate as possible, but please don't expect everything to be true.

Stay healthy! I will do my best to upload the next piece as soon as possible!)

Every muscle feels like it's burning. Your legs and arms feel heavy. Your feet barely lift off the uneven ground with every step you take.

Dried blood stains your face. Your armour doesn't look much better. The shield you are holding, has a big dent in it. The javelin in your right hand feels like it's made out of steel. The chainmail on your chest weighs heavier than usual.

"Marius!"

Your second in command shouts at you from the back.

"The women need a break!"

You sigh in annoyance. It's bad enough that you almost got your whole century killed. Now you have to delay your reunion with the rest of the legion because of those Gaul captives.

"We will take a short break."

You announce to your eighty legionaries and the twenty rebels you captured.

Spotting a small stream near by, you walk closer, while most of the soldiers sit on the ground, some are standing guard.

Taking off your helmet, you start to wash your face. The dried blood sticks to your skin. After some effort, you are just a little bit cleaner.

Another sigh leaves your lips as you kneel in place. In front of the small stream, your century in the back, looking into the deep forest.

You have lived a hard life. You were not born a Roman. Not born a free man. But you took your life into your own hands, instead of hoping for the mercy of the gods. Because gods don't have mercy. Only you can change your own destiny.

"Let's keep marching. We are almost there."

You go back to the front of the century, your men following your orders. Most of the Gaul rebels you captured are women and children. Their husbands and fathers killed by your swords and javelins.

Orders are orders. To kill or to be killed. These are the only two principles you live by. At least most of the time.

"Have you heard yet?"

Quintus asks from behind you, catching your attention. You silently wave for him to walk next to you. It's not necessarily the gossip you're interested in, but you did learn that it's important to know what is going on inside your century and the legion itself.

"Aelius fucked up some of his soldiers."

You raise your eyebrow while you keep walking. Nothing new there. Aelius is a spoiled son of a whore. He only became centurion in the tenth, because of his family's status. And he is usually unnecessarily brutal with his century.

"Reason?"

"They ate some of the extra rations we all got a week ago. Aelius said that they are meant for centurions only. Not for legionaries."

You have to stop yourself from spitting onto the muddy path you are walking on.

Aelius paints the perfect picture of the Roman nobility. Rich assholes. Nothing more. Nothing less.

"Did he kill someone again?"

Quintus shakes his head.

"But I heard that the premus pilus had a talk with him."

You let out a dry chuckle.

"All the centurions of the first cohort are the same. Do you really think he got in trouble?"

"No. But I thought you would be interested. It's not like you have very good connections with-"

"Shut it, fool."

It's not really a secret in the tenth legion that you and Aelius are bitter rivals. The two of you are the completely opposite of one another. A rich brat, who is the centurion of the third century in the first cohort. And you. The former slave, who climbed the ranks to be the centurion of the first century in the second cohort.

There aren't many ranks that separate the two of you. But making the jump into the first cohort as a former slave is nearly impossible.

Your century walks in almost complete silence for the next couple of hours. Despite being one of the most feared soldiers in the legion, you can't help but be cautious. In case there are more rebels lurking in the shadows of the large trees.

"Marius!"

The scout you send out to check the path ahead is jogging in your direction.

"We take another short break."

A light murmur of gratitude echoes through the ranks.

You wait for the young man, barely older than a boy, to reach the spot where you are standing.

"Someone seems to be traveling towards the camp. Our paths are going to cross, once we reach the small clearing ahead."

"Do you know who it is?"

"It looked like a person from the nobility. There was a carriage. And a couple of men with spears. Probably guards."

"We can't be too cautious. Titus!"

You shout for your second in command to walk to the front.

"Take your contubernia and make fast pace. I want to make sure that everything is going according to regulations."

"Yes, Marius."

The rest of the century starts marching at normal pace again, while the eight men rush ahead. The scout leading them towards the small crossroads.

"You know what's going on?"

You shake your head at Quintus' question.

"Might be a politician from Rome. Or a nobleman's wife."

"You know that that's against the law."

Of course everyone knows. It's illegal for a legionary to be married. And yet, some centurions always think that they are above the rest of the legion, when it comes to this kind of rules.

"What is the meaning of this?!"

An angry shout echoes around the forest, just as you and your men reach the small clearing.

The scout was right. A carriage, pulled by two grays, accompanied by a handful of men, armed with spears, and some servants.

An older woman is standing in front of the carriage's door, screaming at the poor Titus. Glancing over his shoulder, your optio rolls his eyes.

"Woman. Don't scream at a Roman legionary."

You make your presence known as you keep walking towards the middle of the clearing.

The servant, probably around forty to fifty years of age, looks at you with anger in her eyes.

"Do you even know, whom you are holding up?!"

"No."

You state bluntly, finally standing in front of her. Behind you, you can hear your men take their positions. Not to threaten the travelers, but to guard the area.

"Well, she is one of the most prestigious women in all of Rome."

"And what is a woman like her doing so far away from the city?"

"Visiting her husband."

You click your tongue. As far as you know, none of the centurions in the first cohort have wives. Which means, she must be the woman of a centurion, who ranks lower than you.

A smirk, which you can't suppress, plays around your lips. How are you able to enjoy a higher position than a noble in this republic?

You walk off without another word, leaving Titus in charge. There is no need to bother with this stuff. Some of the Gaul rebels fell a little behind earlier. You have to check on them. In case they are sick or badly injured.

"Her name?"

You hear Titus ask, before the woman let's out an exaggerated gasp.

"Sana Lucii."

You groan in annoyance. By Jupiter. Is this really his wife? Lucius Aelius? Just when you thought, you couldn't hate that man even more.

You despise men, who don't follow the law and rules of the republic and the legion. Of course, sometimes you can define them a little different for your own gains, but this is just breaking them.

Trying to stay calm, your fingers tap the pommel of your gladius. You don't hear a response from Titus. He must know which Lucius the old woman ment.

"Marius?"

He finally makes you turn around.

You walk back up towards the carriage, just as the door opens.

"By Bellona! What is taking so long!"

You have to say, you are amused by the woman's expression. You didn't expect her to call out for the goddess of war.

"Just doing our duty, lady."

Titus answers politely, although you know how hard it is for him to not lash out. He hates Aelius just as much as the next soldier. Especially, since he is your optio.

You are stunned, once the woman actually shows herself. Her beautiful face is slightly twisted with annoyance. Although, you would be sure that she could look like Venus herself, when she smiles.

She is wearing a turquoise stola, which also covers her brown hair. The thin material enables you to have a look at her white tunic underneath. Her skin looks flawless and pure. A golden necklace adorns her neck and collarbone. It's probably worth more than a whole year of your salary.

An image of a goddess.

"I hope we can speed up this process. I'm supposed to be by my husband's side."

Lucky bastard.

"Please. Speak respectfully with my legionaries."

Her gaze meets yours. You can feel your heart skipping a beat. Not one woman has looked as pretty as she does. Not one.

"Who are you to lecture me on speaking?"

"Salve."

Your fist meats the blood stained chainmail on your chest.

Maybe, if you behave respectfully, so does she. The army is for her protection after all.

"My name is Marius. And-"

"What's your first name, centurion?"

A cute smile suddenly plays around her lips. Maybe this will get her out of here faster.

"Gaius."

"I see, Gaius. I'm sure you have more important things to do than stop me from traveling further? My husband must be waiting for me."

If she didn't know better, Sana could swear that she caught a glint of hate in your eyes.

"This is protocol. We have to check on everyone, who approaches the camp."

"I'm a noble woman. Can't you make an exception for me?'

You don't fall for her sweet smile. You are on duty. Not even Venus herself could distract you. Well, maybe a little bit.

"Your choice. Here, or at the gate in front of even more legionaries. Like everyone else."

That last part makes her glare at you. You won this round.

Not waiting for a response, you gesture for your men to search the woman's belongings. Your Imperial legate has more than enough enemies in Rome to be cautious of. And you don't want him to end up dead inside his own camp. Even if she is allegedly Aelius' wife.

Quintus nods in your direction after going through her belongings, signaling that everything is alright.

"We will accompany you on your way to the camp. We are on our way back, anyway."

You turn around without looking at Sana again. A signal for your men to get into formation.

It feels like she stares at your back for a second longer, before you hear the door close behind you. You don't like the Roman nobility. At all. There is only one man you are willing to follow.

After two more hours of marching, your century and the noblewoman's entourage finally reach the camp's gate.

"The village, where the senior officers are staying, is right behind the camp. You can't miss it."

The older woman, who screamed at Titus earlier, still looks at you as if she is holding a grudge.

"I hope you enjoy your stay in these wonderful lands, lady."

You raise your voice a little, making sure that Sana can hear you. It drips with sarcasm and you can hear Quintus chuckle behind you.

"Vale."

With a dismissive wave of your hand, you walk past the old servant. Her shock at your rudeness visible on her face.

Already making your way past the guards, you can't hear Sana's scoff.

Who are you to talk to her like that? If she is gonna tell her husband about this, you are going to be in trouble for sure.

Sana will never be able to get used to this. She was able to decide that, immediately after she stepped out of her carriage. It took her only a couple of steps to enter the small house her husband is living in right now. But that was enough for her already.

Nothing here looks like Rome. Even the legionaries look out of place. And their shouts and the sounds of shields and stuff isn't what she hears when she is home. Sana is already missing the comfortable house with the atrium. She likes to bathe in the sun throughout the day, while sipping on a really good wine.

"You're late."

Lucius doesn't even look up from his small table as he hears his wife coming in.

"That's how you great me after a year?"

"You know how I value punctuality."

"Out of my hands. Some centurion insisted on searching my luggage. He was really rude."

Now Lucius is looking at her. Sana knows that he can't stand someone disrespecting him. And when she gets disrespected, it goes deeper. He is affected as well.

"Who?"

She can see his eyes becoming a little darker. He bites his lip, maybe trying to prevent himself from shouting.

"His name is Garius Marius. I think?"

"That son of a whore. How does a slave dare to stop you?"

Now, Sana feels shame run down her spine. If she knew that he was born a slave, she would've hit him for talking to her like that. No matter his rank, he is and will always be beneath her. Once a slave, always a slave.

"I swear to Jupiter. One day in battle, I will..."

Lucius takes a deep breath, before focusing back on his wife.

"We are eating dinner with the Imperial legate, the leader of these legions tomorrow, and the senior generals. I expect you to impress them."

"I'd be happy to, love."

Sana almost spits out that last word, but Lucius doesn't seem to notice. He sits back down, opening an envelope. She can see how his eyebrows are still furrowed. He won't let this incident pass without consequences.

Sana eventually leaves the house to explore the small town and it's market. Despite being married to Lucius, she can't stay around him for too long. She is only his wife, because of his money and connections. As soon as she can find someone better...

Sana feels a little dizzy as she steps out of the big house. Lucius told her to be on her best behavior. But that idiot was behaving the worst throughout the dinner.

She hated how calm and reserved the other centurion was, the man who stopped her. He was the lowest ranking soldier and yet, everyone listened to his advice and thoughts about future and past battles. And how is he on a first name basis with the imperial legate? And why is Lucius too incapable to enjoy the same treatment? How can he do worse than a slave?

Sana holds onto the wall, standing right next to the entrance. Suddenly, two men walk out the door. They don't see her because it's dark. She tries to find out who they are. The first one is a little taller, while the second has broader shoulders and looks more muscular.

"We can't do this forever, Gaius. We need a plan to wipe him out. I expect you to help me with that."

"Of course, Gaius."

Sana almost groans in annoyance. Of course it's that Gaius Marius. And the other one is the Imperial legate. Gaius Julius Caesar.

"Rome is an empire. We will defeat Vercingetorix sooner rather than later. His supporters will crumble soon."

"You did a good job today, centurion. You've proven once again, why you rightfully carry the name I gave you. Gaius Marius Antonius."

Sana assumes they are talking about some barbarian leader. But Caesar gave him that cognomen? She can't help but wonder what he must've done to be called "priceless".

"You know the political situation in Rome. The more time I waste conquering Gaul, the more powerful my enemies become."

"I swear to Mars. I will cut down anyone who tries to oppose you, Gaius."

She sees Caesar put a hand on the centurion's shoulder.

"It's only a matter of time, until you will be one of the Tribuni angusticlavii, leading the tenth legion into battle. And I will make sure, you will eventually become a rich senator."

Sana has heard enough. It's so disgusting to her. A slave becoming a senator. She is working so hard to become the most powerful woman in Rome. And with that in the whole empire. How can that lowlife become something better than she herself? Sana either needs to push Lucius further up the ranks, or she needs to find someone, who can match Marius' new found status.

Sana groans in relief, when she can finally leave the small village. It's not like someone forbid her to leave, but there just wasn't something to do in and outside the village. What was she gonna do in a forest? A very dangerous one at that?

But now, she heard of a big market place around two hours away. Sana is still looking to buy some oils and pottery. She could do that in Rome of course, but she is hoping to find them cheaper in their land of origin.

Looking out of her carriage, Sana leaves behind the village and the big camp right next to it. The constant noise made her head spin. Not that Rome isn't loud, but this is something else.

After about an hour, Sana hears a troop of men marching in front of her. She became familiar with that sound after a few days. She doesn't look outside, despite being curious. Why would a century be here? The battles would take place in the opposite direction. Right?

Sana hears how the carriage passes the back of the century. The heavy steps of the legionaries kick up some dust. Her old servant looks outside, curious herself.

"It's him again."

The older woman grimaces, before letting the curtain drop back into place.

"Who?"

"The man who stopped us a couple of days ago."

Sana's attention is now on the men outside. She remembers the conversation you had with Caesar.

"Really?"

She pretends to be cold, not wanting to get caught. After having seen you around a couple of times, the young noble woman is unsure on how to feel about you.

Yes, you are a former slave. A peasant. But you are also a great centurion. A trusted man to Julius Caesar.

Despite being not the highest ranking officer, Sana did notice how the other men look at you. She catches an occasional whisper of your brave actions in battle. She sees the men greet you with almost too much respect. Even the other centurions seem to want to be on your good side.

Maybe that's what Sana has to do too. In order to further climb up the ladder. It is risky. And it's still a long time in the future. But if Caesar can really make his ambitions reality, you will be one of the first people who benefit from it. And if Sana plays her cards well, she can benefit too.

For a moment, she wonders what a man like you would need. Something she could have to bargain with. Money? You probably earn quite a lot already. Especially compared to your earlier environment. Land? You will get that too, if you stay long enough in the army. A wife? You are a soldier. You are not allowed to be married.

As Sana is still pondering on what to do to convince you to help her gain more power, she gets closer towards the front of the century.

And it's not like she doesn't have influence. She could maybe even get you a promotion into the first cohort. Of course without her husband finding out.

Sana draws back the curtain a little with only one finger. Just a few meters ahead, she can see you walking.

Your helmet is decorated by a big crest of red horse hair. The back of the helmet and the rest of your armor shimmer in the light of the sun. She remembers your first encounter. Your armor was full with blood, indicating that you were more than able to fight a battle.

You turn around as you hear horses behind you. It wouldn't have been a surprise. One of the auxilia officers could be taking his men out to train.

Surprised at the sight of the carriage, you catch a glimpse of the passenger. Her eyes meet yours, a big golden ring decorates the finger that holds back the curtain. You could swear you see a small hint of a smile play around her lips.

"Salve."

You great her by hitting your armored chest with your fist. Not because you like her, but out of politeness.

"Salve, centurion."

Her passive aggressive mentioning of your rank indicates that she is still not over that incident a couple of days ago.

"Are you visiting the market?"

"I am. I suppose you are not here to buy pottery?"

A mocking smile replaces the earlier one.

"It may sound unbelievable, but I'm not."

A cute chuckle escapes her mouth.

"Well, I hope you enjoy this beautiful day."

Is she still mocking you, because you are on duty? You are not sure, but you can see her lazily wave goodbye as the carriage drives past you.

"Don't get too close to her. She is only gonna be trouble."

You look at Quintus.

"I'm merely being polite. I don't need trouble with angry nobles. At least not now."

"By Jupiter. One might think you've become a responsible, grown man now."

"Fuck off."

You raise your hand, but Quintus ducks away, avoiding a potential slap.

Only listening with one ear to the conversation next to you, you scan the market for the young noble woman. Despite her attitude and the fact that she is married, you can't help but glance at her occasionally. Plus, the market isn't as safe as it might seem. Cunning merchants, thiefs and rebels might roam the place, ready to strike at any moment. And being a beautiful Roman woman makes her one of the most desirable targets right now.

"Listen, Roman! I barely sell anything! How do you expect me to pay your unreasonable taxes?!"

"Shut it."

You turn back to the stall holder. Titus' and his conversation got heated.

"We are not hear to argue. We are here to collect taxes."

The man grits his teeth.

"I'm telling you! I don't have anything to give away!"

The other people around you look at the scene, before walking past. Only you and a couple of legionaries are here. The rest of your century is patrolling another village nearby and the rest of the market, making sure you are not getting ambushed.

"Don't scream at me, old man. Pay up."

"I don't have a fucking coin!"

You know he is lying. You saw someone buy his fabric from a far as you entered the marketplace. And, judging by the money bag he held earlier, it wasn't cheap at all.

"We can do this the easy way, or the heard way."

You take a step forward, towering above him.

"But the hard way won't end well for you."

"I already told you, I-"

You let your head fall back in annoyance. Collecting taxes is a necessity. Not something to be proud of. It's not as honorable as fighting in battle.

"Do you really want to go this far?"

You look down at him again, your hand now resting on the pommel of your gladius.

He caught the movement of your hand, worry creeping onto his features.

"What is it gonna be? Your life? Or coin?"

The old man is not stupid. And a couple of moments later, you walk away from his stall. The tinkle behind you indicates, that Titus is adding the silver denarii into the bag with the rest of the already collected money.

"Are you trying to rob me, old man? You are a con artist!"

Women screaming at a merchant are as common as clouds under the sky, so you don't pay much attention to it as you hear someone scream.

"How can you demand so much for this lousy work?"

You keep walking, although you kinda feel, like you heard this voice before. It sounds oddly familiar.

"By Bellona! I'm going to have you beaten for your rudeness!"

And there it is. With an annoyed groan, you immediately recognize, who is disturbing the rather peaceful market.

If she was a common local woman, you would've kept walking. The Galli could solve their own disputes.

But Sana is, as unfortunate as it is, not a local. She is a Roman woman. A member of the elite even.

You take a deep breath, before walking towards her screams. You can already guess whom she is screaming at.

"Keep going."

You tell Titus over your shoulder, as you approach her from behind. Her servant must have stayed with the carriage, because Sana is standing in front of the stall of the potter all alone.

Before the young woman can scream another word, you grab her arm.

"What-"

You spin her around and walk away, pulling her with you.

"What do you think you are doing?!"

"Silence."

You didn't say it in a loud voice, but your tone makes her go silent.

After a couple of meters, you stop, turning around to look at her.

"You're welcome."

"Excuse you?"

Her hands now rest on her hips. You can't help but catch how slender her waist seems to be.

"I just saved you from embarrassing yourself even further. You owe me."

You turn away, ready to reunite with Titus and your men.

"What the-"

It's now Sana's turn to grab your arm, stopping you from leaving.

"I don't owe you shit."

"Really?"

You turn to look at her again.

"Your temper is as bad as your observation skills. Minerva would strike you down for your utter incompetence."

You said the words, before you thought about them. You are aggravated. Because of the merchant earlier, because of her causing a scene, because of Lucius (as always) and because of her being his wife. Alright, maybe that last one was a little jealousy.

"How dare you? You are some rude-"

You stop her from saying another word by grabbing her shoulders and spinning her around.

"Look. Look and tell me what you see."

"What are you talking about?"

You see her frowning. An act that makes her beautiful face a little less flawless.

"Tell me what's going on."

You realize you are using the same tone as with the men during training. Harsh, straight forward, a little condescending. But not rude. Just factual.

"The merchant is still selling his stupidly expensive pottery."

You don't answer, waiting for more.

Sana, visibly annoyed, struggles against your grip for a moment, before giving in. You are a seasoned legionnaire. There is no way she is gonna get out of your hold on her.

"There are a couple of women and men who browse his items."

"Keep going."

"Someone is buying a bowl and an amphora."

"What is the woman on the right doing?"

"She is paying for her stuff. What-"

"Can you see how much she is paying?"

"Way too much for a stupid-"

"Do you see any of the locals complaining?"

Sana hesitantly shakes her head.

"Do you know the reason?"

"Because they are stupid. In Rome it's cheap-"

"We aren't in Rome, woman. This is Gaul."

You stand behind her, both of you silent for a couple of moments. You give her time to think about the possible reason. Although she is probably just complaining about you to the gods in silence.

"They all pay the price he demands, because he and his work are respected here."

"But they look-"

"Yeah. Some of his pieces aren't pretty."

You admit that.

"But he is an old man. His hands aren't as good as they used to be. He is obviously regarded with a decent amount of respect."

You gesture for Sana to look around the market.

"Most of the people here bargain over every single item. Food, cloth, tools and even pottery."

You turn her back towards the old man's stall.

"But not there. They respect him too much to try to get a better price. His work might not be the very best anymore, but his skill is known by everyone here."

Sana groans in annoyance and anger as she sees you coming out of the biggest tent of the camp. A week has gone by, since you treated her like a child at the market. Her blood still boils, whenever she sees you from a far.

She decided against telling her husband, not wanting to cause unnecessary friction. And if you have the favor of Caesar, it might be a bad idea to egg on her husband.

And Sana is still debating on your ability to help her seize more power. She is ready to do anything to get to the top. Even if it means working together with someone as low born as you.

Sana stops in her tracks as she sees her husband walk towards you.

"Aelius."

You don't greet him like any other lower ranking centurion would. The young woman can feel the tension between the two men, despite standing barely in earshot.

"Marius."

His face shows a disapproving twitch.

"It seems like we are catching up to Vercingetorix. I hope you don't make any mistakes in battle. I would hate to lose a lower ranking officer."

You click your tongue, taking a step forward.

With the two of you standing right in front of each other, Sana realizes that you are bigger than her husband. Not just in statue, but also in the way you carry yourself. With slightly less arrogance and more discipline.

"Don't worry about me, Aelius. As you know, I always make sure my men are taken care off."

Sana feels a shiver run down her spine. She heard more than enough stories about the battles of the tenth legion since she joined her husband. The amount of times that you were mentioned in one of them was noticeably high.

The young woman heard of a battle two summers ago. You weren't a centurion at the time. Merely a soldier of the second cohort. But in battle, your centurion chose to let his men die, while he stayed behind, watching his century getting slaughtered. After half of the eighty men were dead, you walked straight towards the cowardly centurion. A nobleman, which the storyteller didn't fail to mention with a hint of disgust. Your gladius seperated his head from his shoulders in one swift motion and you took command of the second century until the end of the battle. Caesar honored your bravery and agreed with your actions. Instead of getting executed, you got promoted.

"Are you implying I'm not leading my men well?"

Sana hears you chuckle.

"News travel fast among the younger men, Aelius."

"Maybe you should discipline your soldiers like I do. Your century is a disgrace to the tenth legion."

"Nugas garris. You are pathetic."

You walk off, leaving him behind.

Sana almost expects her husband to draw his gladius. How can you call him a disgrace? And idiot? He is higher ranking than you and he is a member of the elite.

But Aelius just watches you leave, before entering the tent you just came out of.

That short interaction reminds Sana of the power you actually hold. You might not be the highest officer, but almost the whole legion treats you as such. If it wasn't for your low birth, you might have been able to be the centurion of the first century of the first cohort.

Sana's decision is slowly forming in her mind. A plan to gain more power than she has right now. Siding with you might be risky. But the rewards could be great.

Sana glances at you from across the room as you stare at Caesar, who is currently talking. She is still not quite sure what she can offer you to make you join her side. But when the leader of the legion mentions the nobility in his speech, she sees your expression change for just a second. It is obvious that you hate all the wealthy and arrogant men and women. Maybe Sana can offer you something to get back at them. Or at least get back at Aelius.

"And that's why the tenth legion outshines any other. Your bravery and honor are praised throughout the whole empire. Rome is grateful for what you have done. And the gods smile down at the men, who give their lifes to the republic."

Caesar ends his speech. And with that, the long meal is finally over. It is night time already. Only the moon and the stars still shine.

You walk out of the large tent, ready to sleep. It has been a long day and there is no doubt that you will be fighting soon. Caesar's promise to promote you to such a high position still rings in your ears. You can't believe you've come this far.

"Gaius."

Her sweet voice makes you stop in front of your tent. She doesn't sound as angry as she usually does.

"Yes?"

You turn around, standing face to face with Sana.

"I'm here to ask you for something."

You look at her, waiting for an explanation.

"I heard that you are the bravest and most powerful man in this legion. At least unofficially."

You raise an eyebrow.

"Where is all of this honey suddenly coming from?"

Sana gives you a melodic chuckle. Only now do you realize how close she is standing. Her oils make you breath in the flowery air that surrounds her.

"I want to strike a deal with you."

"What would you want from such a low ranking officer like me?"

Your sarcasm makes it hard for Sana to not lash out. Just because she needs you, doesn't mean that she likes you.

"As far as I've heard, you won't be a low ranking officer for long."

"Is that so?"

You cross your arms in front of your chest.

"Well, it's actually quite simple. You have something I want. And I have something you want."

"I highly doubt that."

You watch Sana turn her head left and right, making sure that no one is around.

"There is a always something a man wants from a woman."

You are surprised at what she is suggesting.

"Judging by the look on your face, I can comfortably say that I'm right."

You shake your head, which seems harder than usual.

"Have you never thought about having your way with me? A noble woman?"

She takes another step closer. Now, Sana's sandals are touching yours.

"A married one at that? I bet you would love to destroy my husband. This could be your first step to success."

You narrow your eyes, still unsure of what to do. You've never been in this kind of situation. Is she making fun of you? Did Aelius put her up to this, setting a trap for you? Or is she genuine?

"What would you get in return?"

"Your power. Your influence. I can't live, knowing that another person might have more power than I do. I need to be at the top of the republic."

"And you think, I can get you there?"

Sana nods.

"With my support? Definitely."

She looks at you, waiting for a response.

You are still torn. She has a nice body, yes. But you're not fond of her attitude. She is a noble woman. And she is married. Getting caught would have serious consequences. For the both of you.

But the chance to use her? A noble woman? Fucking her, while her husband is only sleeping a couple of tents away? More than just tempting.

You look around the camp yourself. No one in sight.

"Get in."

A victorious smile forms on her lips. As she walks past you, she lets her finger glide over your armoured chest.

You follow her immediately after.

"Now that we have come to an agreement, I-"

You push Sana forward, bending her over the wooden table.

"What-"

You don't give her time to speak. If you're going to do this, you're going to do this quickly.

Hiking up her red stola, you reach underneath her tunic. The smoothness of her legs makes you hard as you reach between them.

"It seems like you are enjoying this more than I expected."

Your fingers graze her lower lips. She is not just a little wet.

"Hey, I didn't give you permission to-"

You shut Sana up by covering her mouth with your other hand.

"I don't need you permission. I'm going to ruin you anyway."

Her gasp is muffled by your hand as you push your first finger inside.

You haven't slept with a lot of women, the army being mainly responsible for that. Nonetheless, you do know how to pleasure a woman.

Sana's moan escapes between your fingers as your digits slide along her wet walls. Her pussy is already gripping them tightly.

If it weren't for your hand, her head would've sunk onto the table already. But you are holding her in place, which ultimately makes her arch her back.

She tries to say something, but your grip on her mouth makes it impossible for her to speak properly.

You are surprised at how wet Sana is.

"Was your desire for power just an excuse? Do you just want me to fuck you?"

She tries to shake her head. You don't let her.

"Do you get off, knowing that a lower born man is fucking you?"

Sana is unable to respond, when you let go off her face. Her whole upper body is now lying on top of the table. You drop your belt and hike her clothes up a little further.

"Don't get confused. I still don't like you."

Sana's growl doesn't sound very convincing with your fingers inside of her.

"Might be true. But you aren't married to Aelius because of his personality anyways."

Pulling your fingers out of her core makes Sana moan loudly. She blushes in shame. Doubt starting to rise inside of her. Is she really only doing this to team up with you?

"You only seem to care for power."

"So? Only a coward wouldn't want power."

You shut her up by letting your tip graze against her lips. Sana hisses through her teeth, unwilling to moan again.

"I'm just curious about how far you would be willing to go. How dedicated you are to this cause."

"Don't worry. I'm ready to do anything."

"Anything?"

You raise an eyebrow, which Sana can't see.

"Anything."

"That's reassuring."

Your nonchalant tone makes Sana shiver.

Finally, you push inside of her.

"Fuck, woman."

You can't help but marvel at how tight she actually is.

"Fuck me already."

It's a mixture of plea and demand.

With one hand you grab her hair, pushing her cheek against the wooden surface. Your other hand holds her waist.

Another moan escapes Sana's lips as you thrust forward. Before she can react, you pull back and push inside of her again.

After just a couple of seconds, you start to fuck her hard. The table rocks back and forth with every thrust. Her moans escape her lips, whenever you bottom out inside of her.

"Harder!"

Sana holds onto the edge of the table, her knuckles slowly starting to turn white.

Because you keep pushing her upwards with your thrusts, the young woman's feet eventually dangle in the air.

You are now able to fuck her even deeper. Her moans become louder when she feels your cock invading her pussy even further.

At this point, Sana is merely a hole for you to fuck. She doesn't move. Only your thrusts rock her body back and forth. The thin material of her clothes makes Sana's nipples rub against the wooden surface. They've become hard due to her arousal and are now adding to the pleasure she is already feeling.

"So good!"

She moans yet again. You suddenly realize, that this isn't really a save place to be this loud.

"Shut up."

You growl into her ear, trying to quiet her.

But Sana can't help it. She has already lost control over her body. Your cock is parting her walls again and again, making her clench around it tightly.

She is even unable to produce a disappointed whine, when you stop fucking her. You leaver her snug pussy, before getting her off your table.

Turning her around, you push Sana against the wooden post, which is holding up the roof of your tent. Reaching for your belt, you hold her arms up, before tying them together.

Sana is now unable to leave. You pick up her light frame, making her impale herself on your cock.

"By Bellona! Fuck!"

"I told you to stay quiet."

Your faces are barely an inch apart.

Because you push her body against the post, you are able to lift her up with only your left hand. Your right one moves upwards to wrap its fingers around her throat.

"One more word..."

You let the threat of unknown punishment linger in the air for a moment.

But you can't hold yourself back for long. Sana's pussy drips her juices onto your cock, coaxing you into resuming your pounding.

A whimper escapes her mouth, when you start to fuck her again. You can tell she is at least trying to stay quiet this time. While you make her bounce on your cock, you thrust upwards. It makes her eyes roll back, whenever she feels your cock pushing against her guts.

"Venus!"

A louder sigh escapes her mouth yet again. You close your fingers around her throat a little further.

"Behave."

The conflict in Sana's eyes amuses you.

She should be the one in charge. She is the noble one of the two of you after all. But here she is, bound to your post, your hand around her throat as you fuck her as hard as you can.

Sana tries to fight the belt, wanting to tell you that you have to choke her harder. She can't keep quiet when you fuck her like this.

Another moan escapes her lips and you tighten your grip yet again.

"I warned you."

You hiss into her face.

Sana's wide eyes look beautiful. The way she stares at you, begging you to fuck her harder, while she tries her best not to make any noise.

But she fails miserably. A loud sigh echoes through the tent.

Without a word, you reach upwards. The sound of metal on metal cuts through the night as you pull your pugio out of its sheath. You let Sana get a good look at it. Then, you slowly part her lips with its blade.

"If you don't want to hurt your pretty face..."

You don't continue your sentence once more. But Sana is well aware of the risks.

With your dagger in her mouth, Sana has to pull back her lips, while simultaneously biting onto the blade, to make sure it doesn't fall or hurt her.

You see her closing her eyes as you keep fucking her. She is now really quiet, focused on keeping your pugio in place.

"Finally. Your voice so annoying."

Sana blushes in shame, able to see your honesty in your eyes.

"At least you have a nice body. I could fuck you every day."

The young woman almost lets out another moan. She really has to hold herself back. This was the first time someone reduced her to nothing but a wet hole to fuck. She didn't expect it to feel this good.

You suddenly hear footsteps outside. You stop moving, almost making Sana whine in disappointment, but then she hears it too. The two of you hold your breath. Neither of you wanting to get caught.

As the footsteps disappear into the night, you resume your fucking.

You make Sana bounce up and down on your cock. She glides along its full length. Whenever you impale her on it, Sana's eyes shoot wide open. She would scream if it wasn't for the dagger between her teeth.

"I'm gonna cum."

You hiss into her face, unable to hold back longer. Her tight pussy has been working on draining your cock this whole time. It feels perfect, almost too good to pull out. But cuming inside is obviously not an option.

You put Sana back onto her own two feet, taking the knife out of her mouth. Undoing your belt, you free her arms. Sana drops to her knees, opening her mouth. You catch a couple drops of blood on the corners of her mouth, before she wraps her lips around your cock.

Your pugio falls out of your hand and you take a fistful of her beautiful hair. Her eyes look up at you, telling you to finish inside her mouth. Her tongue glides over every inch of your cock it can find, while her lips are tightly sealed around it.

"Sana."

You manage to groan her name, before you unload inside her mouth. You feel dizzy, having to close your eyes for a moment.

When you open them again, you see Sana gulping down your cum.

"How often do we need to do this, so that we have a deal?"

"I think you know the answer."

It's so dark that Sana's face is barely lit by the torch outside. You could swear a small smile plays around her lips though.

[johnnys-breastmilk]

what are you doing, step-bro? | steve harrington x reader

a/n — something short to get out of that slump! title isnt serious just the inspo behind the fic, enjoy!

words — 1.9k

summary — After a close encounter in the tunnels with the Demo-dogs, Steve finds you in a defenseless position.

warnings — reader is stuck in a "wall", anal, dirty talk, y'all know the drill by now, biblically accurate hairy steve harrington!

~~~

“Guys? Help!”

What had been an easy mission for the Party—traversing the tunnels under Hawkins to cover as much of it with gasoline—didn’t come easy for you. You found yourself buddied up with Steve, who suggested that the two of you split up when you hit a fork in the road. It made sense, each of you had a tank of gasoline, and there seemed to be no presage of danger in either path. 

Then came the time when you ran out of something to douse the infected trails with, and you used your walkie, an old and unreliable TRC-206 model, to let the rest of the group know that you were on your way back to their designated meeting place. While retracing your steps, you heard a screech come from the direction you were heading back to. Your eyes darted for a place to hide, and in the dark, bluish-black tunnels, you spotted a faint red glow coming from the tunnel’s wall to your left. You darted to it, assuming that it had to lead to a little divot or room that the creature couldn’t get to. In some long stretch of your willfulness, it led to the tunnel Steve went down and you could get him to fend the alien off. It was a shot in the dark but maybe it would hit the creature head-on and confuse it long enough to save your ass from becoming an otherworldly snack.

You felt like a mouse scampering to its burrow in the night when something stirs. 

But the hole was too small, and even though you could fit your upper half in, it was a struggle to get it out. You were embedded into the wall. The rest of your body was stuck on the outside of the thing you now knew to be a portal, as the air and view reflected the stories that members of the Party had shared with you—all of them being their experiences with the Upside Down. Tufted spores floated around you and reacted to your panicked breathing. You tried several times to free yourself but knew it was impossible thanks to the welling of gasoline at your feet, making it impossible to get a solid footing on the ground.

Every channel laid dormant—static being returned as you waited for an answer. Distant calls of the same monster you heard in the tunnel echoed around you here. Footsteps approached, but they were lighter, more focused, and less sporadic like an animal charging at its food. It was the human kind of gait as only two steps could be heard every second or so. 

You should have known that splitting up would mean an awkward reunion. You felt at ease when Steve’s voice was the one coming from behind you. He was still in the real world and could pull you back into it. “Hey—jeez, what happened?”

“Steve, thank fuck. I tried hiding from one of those demo-monsters and got stuck. Watch out, it might still be out there.”

“I didn’t see anything, but I don’t want to wait in here to be proven wrong.” Steve shrugged off his backpack and let it hit the ground. The sound of an empty canister of gasoline rang through the tunnel.

“Get me out of here and we can handle it together, at least.” You swore Steve could have agreed, but the worlds-apart separation made some things he said unclear.

Steve spread his stance out to get as close as possible whilst not getting his shoes muddied from the infected soil and gasoline mixture at your feet. His hands—gloved and still coated with moisture and bits of dirt—took ahold of the bottom of your torso just about where the hem of your jeans hugged your body. At first, he tried pulling, a lot of pulling. When you didn’t budge, he got closer and pressed as much of himself as he could against you to find some leverage.

“C’mon…” He groaned. “I’ve never dealt with something this tight before…”

He wasn’t ready to accept defeat, not yet. There was no way in hell he would leave you stuck in the wall, Steve was firm on that. He couldn’t help but feel like he was trying to help a square that actually fit through a circular hole. Steve knew he wasn’t too far off, they were already in a place they didn’t belong in, and this tunnel system must have had passageways for creatures that surely weren’t human. As expected, his countless efforts to pull you back didn’t work.

Steve reached under you, pushing up the layers on your upper half and undoing the button on your jeans. His gloves gave him a bit of trouble but he undid it nonetheless. Cold air ruminated on your skin in all the places where your jeans used to be. You couldn’t see what he had done, but you could feel it and felt the sudden urge to ask.

 “What are you doing?” The sensation of fabric layered over itself, irregularly touching you around only your shins and lower let you know he had pulled any sort of protection over your bottom half down.

“Maybe if I loosen you up, rock you back and forth a little, you’ll slip right out? It’s the right kind of movement we need, and it’ll be more fun than doing it clothed, restricting ourselves, yeah?” Steve stepped away, the heat coming off of him and onto you following him back. It wasn’t really Steve that was the issue. No, it was the situation. The noise, the heat signature—if it could read that—would be potential giveaways to your not-so-successful hiding spot. 

Your view on it didn’t change, “All I need is your help, Steve.”

“All you needed was a chance to spread your legs for me and you’d do it.” The faint sound of a belt buckle, then a zipper, then the two falling in tandem play out one by one. You couldn’t see it, but he was cupping himself in his one hand. When a tent formed, he stroked himself through his boxers. 

What else could you do but insist on him to quit playing games, “Just help me out, Steve.”

His presence ghosted over you again, some of his leg hair gently bristling against your own skin. His boxers must have been gone by this point, though you couldn’t be sure. “I have to help myself, first.” 

“This is kind of your fault since you got me all distracted. You couldn’t go crawling in the opposite direction? Well, if it had to be your mouth I’m stuck with…” You felt a smack to your ass. His gloves were gone, probably thrown to the floor and pulled off with his mouth so he could easily send his hand flying down against your markable skin. “But this is even better.”

Steve was his own shade of red and monstrous. His cock, hot and heavy, could faintly be seen as a raging red in the soft blue glow in the underbelly of Hawkins. Blood rushed to the place he struck with his palm the same way it did to his dick. He was fully hard, and you were still solid enough to stay in place—even with his giddyap smack. Then a sharp pain—more painful than a claw or tooth from one of those Demo-demons piercing the outer layers of your body—darted throughout your body. Steve invited himself in, entered without knocking. If there was a name for a rude intrusion, it would describe the pain in your backside perfectly. You thought that he might have done something, anything to prepare you for his home-runner. 

There was nothing except some pooling pre-come that had barely formed enough to cover his tip; the friction at your entrance could have been enough to start a fire then and there. A clash of feelings followed by his roughness. Both were deadly combinations with gasoline surrounding your steps, something that you were only reminded of when he entered you and made your legs shake.

He found the gas to be an easy thing to work around, finding the right footing to swing his hips in the motion he claimed would fix it all. Inch by inch, he pushed himself in and hoped that you would move with every inch he pulled out and pushed himself back in. You felt your world shift. One moment, you were jolting forward as he slammed into you, the world of the Upside Down feeling like it was leaping toward you. The next, it felt like that world was slipping away.

Steve moaned, the sound of it channeling through the barrier between the both of you. “I could loo—oh—ook at you like this all day. Just a cumdump for me.”

There was a sensibility in his words—you could be stuck for a while until the Party got shovels, excavators, whatever they needed to get you out of this mess. Until then, you could be all his and have very little power to stop him.

You tried to ground yourself in his world, how Steve felt, specifically. Maybe the thought of being back in that world would make the one you were partly stuck in show pity, if it could understand such a thing in its laws of nature. Steve was hairy, and his pubes tickled your ass when he pressed himself deep into you. His hands were a bit clammy, cold and sweaty from gripping onto you and dealing with the chill inside the tunnels. Notably, he still wore his jacket and shirt, the zipper of the jacket grazing over you with every thrust.

The zipper seemed to disappear, though, like Steve had raised his arm. And sure enough, while you couldn’t see it, he had placed a hand on the soil-like substance that the wall of the tunnel was made out of for support. His other hand came down to strike your ass, sending a harsh smacking sound through the burrow.

When you started to move less and less, the view of the world around you growing still, you could almost tell that Steve was losing his patience. He was ready to come. His intention came true as Steve gave a few final, slow plunges into you and flooded your ass with stickier webbing than what you had pushed through to get into the second world. After the sensation of it all died down for the two of you, you realized that his so-called plan barely worked.

“I haven’t moved an inch!” If anything, he fucked you further into the other world. “Tell me you're done so you can go get some actual help.”

“Not yet, I love seeing you like this, and I’ll be nice…”

You felt your pants and everything slide up your body, being lazily adjusted back into place as they had been when Steve found you. You could feel yourself leaking with his come, getting your underwear wet with him. The faint sounds of his shuffling resounded behind you, and after a moment, he smacked your ass, “Don’t go anywhere! I’ll be back with help!”

[decaffeinatedgalaxyprince]

oh speaking of road trip omo, i did get a chance to try some recently

i went with a couple fwb to see the eclipse, so we were driving for hours. and i drink a lot anyway but i got myself a huge soda and refilled my huge water bottle and basically finished it, and got made fun of for being so desperate in the backseat and squirming and whining about how i had to pee. like i'm talking a quart of water and just as much other drinks. and i could feel it, like i was rock hard swollen with pee after so many hours.

and i had to stay in the car while the other two peed at a gas station as punishment for something earlier, and i was whining and so desperate i could barely think. i had to text them from the car that i was frantic and couldn't hold it much longer 🥺 and they still made me hold it another ten minutes to get to a restaurant.

the seat belt was so tight and i had to ask to unbutton my pants because i was so swollen and all i could do was hold myself and whine. they were gonna make me sit and drink two waters before i was allowed to pee in the restaurant but i had to go so bad that i told them i wasn't gonna make it, i was barely gonna make it to the restaurant and if i wasn't allowed to pee i'd probably let go in the parking lot and take another punishment instead, i was so full and frantic. so they dropped me off in front of the door to go use the restroom while they parked and got the table. 💖

i could barely walk like i was hobbling trying not to put any pressure on my bladder, just standing up and getting out was so hard i wanted to squat down and piss but i was right in front of the entrance. and then when i walked in i couldn't see the bathroom right away, so i stood in line waiting for the host to see if i could ask them, because i couldn't think, just look around for something that might be the way to a bathroom. it was probably only like a minute because my fwb didn't come in after me right away, but it felt like 10 minutes. i couldn't pee dance or grab myself or anything, i was in public and so desperate but there was no way i could show it, other than hunching over a little.

and the bathroom was on the other side of the dining area when i did spot it, so i had to walk across the whole thing without crossing my legs or squirming, just slowly squeezing everything to keep going and keep it in, try to look at normal and unbothered as possible while this ocean of piss was crashing inside me. and i was wearing shorts that would definitely show it if i leaked. had to move so slowly and deliberately to not put any pressure on my poor bursting aching overfull bladder...

but i made it! fuck that was the longest walk across a room of my life. and the bathroom was open and empty other than me. i tried counting how many seconds i peed and i got to 110, but i don't know how accurate that is. it sure feels like it was accurate, i felt like i peed almost 2 minutes. i didn't even really start to feel the relief until like 30 seconds in. and it just kept fucking going. literally felt like i had cum afterwards, just how relieving it was.

[sanjifucker42069]

Looks Like Lingerie to Me - Part Two

Word Count: 1.4k

Part 1

A belated and awkward part 2. I’ll start writing part 3 in the morning (it’s like 1am lmao)

For those who need a visual aid, here. (oof feels like wattpad or quotev but girlypops i am cringe but i am free. it isnt a perfect representation, but its pretty accurate. titilating, no? ;) )

Warnings: Lingerie lmao…this is pretty short, and is just a set-up for part 3. A lot of this is my own feelings surrounding cis men in lingerie. As with part 1 gender neutral reader. Yeah! Hope you enjoy!

---------------------------------------

Sanji couldn't stop thinking about it. You thought he'd look hot in lingerie? You thought he looked slutty?

It had overtaken every waking moment. Any time he wasn't focused on a task all he could see was the dumb stare you gave him, eyes focused on his thighs.

He'd love to wear lingerie for you if it meant you'd stare at him like that.

----------------------

The Going Merry was docked, the Straw Hats carrying out their duties, and Sanji had a plan.

"I'm gonna go shopping. You coming (Name)? Sanji can carry our bags." Nami preened, looking absolutely glowing at the prospect of new clothes. Sanji bit his lip. He wanted to go with Nami and you, really he did, but if either of you caught on he'd die of embarrassment.

"You okay, Ji?"

Huh?

You were asking something.

"What? Oh, yeah, love. I'm fine. I'm afraid I have business to attend to on the island."

You blinked at him before smiling that dazzling smile up at him. He was smitten, his fortitude nearly wavering. "Of course. You do what you gotta do!"

Business his ass. Instead he hurried to check out the town.

----------------------

A small, seedy shop tucked away in an alley. Sanji entered the store warily. A small, old woman trotted out from the back. Sanji blanched. He didn't want to discuss this with a grandma! 

"Hello young man, here for something for your wife?"

Sanji felt himself flush. He tried to wander around the store. "No, no-"

"Your girlfriend then?" 

Ah. This grandmother didn't know when to quit.

"Not exactly?"

The old lady grabbed his arm. Sanji raised a brow, turning back to her. She was grinning at him, eyes narrowed and sparkling with something he couldn't place.

"Is it for you? Such a handsome young man as yourself." 

What? Sanji's face was on fire. He was flustered beyond belief. His hands were lightly shaking, eyes darting around for anyone else in the store.

"Come with me darling. My name's Bea." The old lady chimed, dragging Sanji with her. "What colour were you thinking?"

"Oh, um." Sanji was panicking, voice high. Did she even have lingerie for men? "Blue?" 

Bea hummed. "I do have blue, but I have a lovely pink set that would just make your skin pop."

Pink? Sanji didn't think it was possible to flush darker, and yet here he was. "I, uh, would it even fit me?"

"Of course sonny! You're quite slim." Bea swatted at his arm, patting his biceps for good measure as she led him through the store. "So, tell me about the lucky one."

"They're beautiful." Sanji began dreamily. Where should he even start? "The most gorgeous creature I've ever laid my eyes on. They have this laugh that just brightens up any room, and such a sense of humour. I’ve been smitten with them since I met them.”

“You two aren’t together?”

Sanji shook his head sadly. “No, no. We’re just good friends. They, uh… Do you know what shirt stays are?”

Bea laughed, patting the cook on the arm. “Say no more.”

She let go of him when they reached the back of the store. Sanji watched nervously as she carded through a rack of, well, did it really constitute clothing? Skimpy piece after skimpy piece were revealed.

And then he saw it.

It was a gorgeous baby pink. Bea ahhed as she removed it from the rack, holding it up to inspect it. She turned to face him, sizing him up next to the set. Sanji felt his throat go dry as he really took it in.

The set was a simple baby pink bralette, made from some kind of sheer lacy material with a flower motif. The plunging neckline was created to draw attention to the cleavage, and it was adorned with some delicate string of pearl-like decoration to highlight the collarbones. The panties were the same sheer material, clear that they weren’t to hide much. The sides of it were accentuated with cute ruffles that further added a feminine touch. Sanji felt lightheaded. 

Finally, it was a beautiful pastel garter belt that sat in the middle, completing the look. It too was made from the same stretchy, sheer lace. It would wrap around the waist, strategic cutouts to accentuate the waist, hips, and the bellybutton. The central cutout had a simple chain of pearls to add interest and movement. Four satin-looking ribbons led from bottom front and back, with clips attached to hold up stockings.

Oh, maybe his shirt stays were kinda…

Nonetheless, it was breathtaking. Sanji had clearly marvelled at it for too long, as Bea chuckled, causing him to flush red. The old woman, lingerie in hand, led him to a mirror. 

“I’m…I can’t.”

Bea just chuckled, holding the hanger up against him. “Look in the mirror boy, I’ve been making lingerie for fifty years. This suits you.”

Sanji obeyed her, staring at himself in the mirror. What he saw took his breath away. He looked a mess, face red and hair messy. He had to hand it to the old woman, the colour was flattering against him. Even the cut looked good. Sanji shifted from foot to foot, anxiety creeping in. He wasn’t really sure how he felt about looking so…so feminine. 

Sanji was a man. It wouldn’t be right for him to wear something so delicate and gorgeous. Right? Of course women’s clothing was beautiful, the fabrics they used, the stylish designs he’d seen the girls on the ship sport. Men’s clothing just, well it was meant to be masculine and boring. Right? He couldn’t let himself give in to that want to feel pretty, that would be wrong.

Right?

Bea, clearly noticing his inner struggle, scoffed.

“Sonny.”

“Sanji.” “Right. Sonny, I’ve been doing this for a long time.” “You, uh, you already said that.”

“I know that!” Bea snapped, swatting at him. Sanji’s gaze drifted back to the pink lace. “I’ve been doing this for a long time. When I started, well, I made boring beige bras and the same lacy black underwear again, and again, and again. I got bored. I got creative! And when I got creative, I became determined to make people feel pretty. People, Sonny, not women.”

Sanji went rigid, his throat was so dry. Was he that obvious? All he could make out was a simple, “Oh?”

Bea grinned. “Everyone deserves the right to feel pretty.” Sanji opened his mouth to speak but the old woman just held up a wrinkled hand. “Nope. Don’t care if you’re a ‘man’. Everyone. Sonny, one day you’ll realise that being a ‘man’ is more than just grunting like an ape, or never showing any vulnerability, or even having a penis. Man is a state of mind, and Sonny, the sooner you feel comfortable in who you are, the more beautiful life is going to be for you.”

Sanji felt breathless. “Really?”

“Really.” Bea nodded, a fondness in her eyes. “Come, we’ll get you a choker to go with it, I have just the one.”

Sanji felt a million miles away as Bea led him to the shop counter. She handled a delicate pink satin choker with care, presenting it to him. It was a giant bow, a simple snap holding it in place around the neck. Simple, but delicate. If Sanji was honest with himself, he liked it.

“Like a million berry! Your precious one will love you in it!” Bea smiled fondly at him. “So, Sonny, you buying?”

Sanji sucked in a deep breath. When he spoke his voice was foreign to him, a shakiness underlying the wispiness. Sanji felt like he was treading water, unsure and scared of the newness of it all. He could drown at any moment.

“Yeah.”

“Good, good!”

So Sanji paid. Bea took extra care to wrap the lingerie up in a delicate pink tissue paper. His own little present. She then promptly put it in an unmarked bag. She understood, shooting him a wink.

“So, anyone, huh?”

“Oh yes, yes. You see, originally I made them for my girlfriend when I was a much younger lady. She was a farmer’s daughter, wonderful girl, shared many a kiss with her, and then some! Now I make these lovely ones for my current husband. You remind me a lot of him, Sonny. You see he lets me wear this harness thing that I put in his a-”

“Thank you grandma, I’ll be out of here now!”

“Yes, yes. Good luck, Sonny! Stop by with your sweetie and get something nice one day, okay?” Bea waved her goodbyes from the doorway, smiling that same sweet old woman smile. Sanji clutched the bag to his chest tightly. 

Right. Time to put the plan into place.

[alessiathepirate]

Resident Evil 4

NIGHT TERRORS: Luis Serra x fem!reader

Summary: Waking up from a nightmare and feeling afraid isn't easy get through - unless you have someone who can comfort you.

Notes: English isn't my first language. I apologize for any mistake I made while I wrote this short story.

My Spanish is horrible, so I apologize if something isn't written the way it should be written or if the word is used in the wrong context.

Warnings: swearing, references to PTSD, hurt/comfort

•••

Her eyes snapped open as she sat up quickly, almost rolling of the bed while doing so. Her forehead was shining from drops of sweat, her legs were shaking from fear. With her heart pounding faster than usual she looked around the still dark room and when she recognized it as her own, she tried her best to calm down and settle her heartbeat and breathing back to normal.

Nightmares like this weren't anything new, she got used to it by now, but it didn't mean they got less scary or uncomfortable. She woke up like this many times, late at night or at dawn finding herself unable to go back to sleep.

She pulled her legs up to her chest, hugged them and rested her head on her knees. She closed her eyes and let out a long breath.

Ever since Spain the nightmares became worse and worse. She was already a mess during the night before the events there, but now it sometimes became unbearable. Too many horrible events accured in Spain while looking for Ashley Graham with Leon. Too many close calls, too many wounds that scarred. Too many accidents involving almost loosing a loved one.

The last one was the worst and with that was the main plot of her night terrors. She often envied the people who can forget these kind of things easily, the people who can let go. She can't.

" 'Everything all right, cariño?" the voice sounded sleepy, but was gentle regardless. Her heart jumped at the sudden noise as it broke the silence, but immediately settled back down when she recognized who it belonged to.

"Yeah, it was just a nightmare."

Sometimes it was still weird, knowing she's not alone and knowing she isn't sleeping alone in her bed. It was also comforting, really comforting - especially when the person she was dreaming about, the person she lost in her dream started to draw gentle circles into her back, then into her shoulder blades.

She heard movements and then felt a presence next to her. Luis sat up and put his right arm around her, using the other to make her look at him while also being as tender as possible. She looked at him, examined all of his features and gestures, trying to memorize the way his lips are moving and the way his eyes are shining.

He was all right, he was next to her and they were far-far away from Spain.

"Do you want to talk about it, querida?"

She hid her face in his neck and closed her eyes, enjoying the way he feels and the way he smells. It felt nice - having someone for comfort like this, a lover who hugs her and talks to her softly.

"I dreamt that I lost you." she said quickly, wanting to get the sentence out as fast as possible to get through the pain it brought. "I don't want to loose you."

"You didn't loose me, cariño, I'm here thanks to you. I owe you my life." his grip on her tightened and she pressed a kiss to his neck.

"You helped me get the damned plaga out of me and the others. We are even."

He brushed some hair out of her face and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Do you want to get back to sleep?"

"I just wanna lay down with you." she started, then quickly added: "Please, corazón?"

He let out a small laugh before lying down with her, making sure she was as close to him as possible.

"Your Spanish improved."

"Yeah, it had to improve. I didn't understand half the things you called me."

"I can always translate it to you if you ask."

She just chuckled. "Yeah, the last time I asked what something meant you lied to me."

They left it at that and just laid there close to the other. She rested her head on Luis's chest while she caressed his shoulder. Meanwhile, he continued to draw patterns into her skin where her shirt didn't cover her back.

Her uneven breathing finally settled down and the only reason her heart was beating faster than it should, was the fact that Luis was the one lying next to her. It was nice to experience how tamed and actually romantic he could be when he was with her. Sure, his flirting was still there sometimes and the pet names he called her were getting out of hand, but now she wasn't just a señorita.

Her hand touched the scar on his chest, what got there when the plaga was removed. She loved that scar, even if it brought back some unwanted memories. The scar meant that without Luis she and her companions would've never got out of Spain alive. It meant that he was a good guy even if he acted like the man her mother warned her about. To Hell with her warning, nothing in the world will take this man away from her.

The scar also made her remember that he has another one on his back. It's still a darker shade of red and it'll never heal perfectly. The wound was way too deep for it to look like a tiny cut. That damn scar was the reason she had nightmares about loosing him. That was the reason why she was afraid to look at the other side of the bed in the morning, afraid that she'll see no one, afraid that she'll have to realize Luis is dead.

Sometimes she thought about what would've happened if she wasn't there with them - with Luis and Leon - that day. The knife Krauser threw made a nasty wound and when he pulled the piece of metal out, her lover was very close to dying - either from blood loss or from pain. She didn't even dare to think about it.

She climbed closer to Luis and hugged him tighter. She shouldn't think about 'what if's. To put and end to her train of thought, she kissed the scar he had on his chest.

"Thank you." she whispered.

"For what?"

"For being here with me."

"You should say a thank you for yourself as well, querida. You were a real nice doctor."

"Yeah, I managed to keep the ladies' man alive."

"I was only your man long before that."

"Yes, you were." she said with a small, happy smile, not even trying to hide it from him. "I was probably the only woman your flirting was working on." she teased.

"I achieved my goal, it seems."

Her cheeks became a lighter shade of pink, the thoughts about 'what if's long forgotten. He succedded in comforting her and making her forget about the fear she felt after she woke up.

She leaned up to give him a kiss, doing her best to put an honest thank you and I love you into it. Then she closed her eyes and let the soft patterns, what he was still drawing into her skin, put her back to sleep, this time being a hundred percent sure he'll be next to her when she wakes up.

[vettelsvee]

FIRST VICTORY (PART 2) | Sebastian Vettel

f1 masterlist | history series masterlist

history series season 1: part 1 | part 2.1 | part 2.2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5

summary: seb and di wake up together after spending the night in di's hotel room speaking and getting to know each other more. rumors start going around the paddock about both of them being something, and people start making theories about that... including hanna, sebastian's girlfriend.

word count: 7050

warnings: translated german. race strategies that might not seem accurate but i tried my best. sexism, lots of sexism. bad language, curse words. mentions of sex and cheating. seb being a man; everyone being the man (friendly reminder that whatever you read here is fiction, and nothing that happens here or how characters act is real)

taglist: [@theseerbetweenus @annewithaneofthegreengable @vincentvanshoe] if you wanna be tagged in each part just tell me in the comments <3

¡! you can read the fanfic as diana or y/n, but the faceclaim will always be my girl emma stone :)

feedback is truly appreciated!

September 14th 2008

Italian Grand Prix Autodromo Nazionale Monza

Sunday

A buzzing sound echoed over the wood of one of the nightstands, followed immediately by an annoying melody that cut off after a few seconds.

Diana, still immersed in the dream she had where both her sister and her were attending a Grand Prix as Fernando Alonso and Jenson Button's partners, abruptly opened her eyes. She didn't recall the time she fell asleep, but she was aware that Sebastian did so before her.

Paling at the thought of the German sleeping next to her, she blinked rapidly, hoping to discover that everything was part of the alternate reality she lived in during her short night.

Realizing she couldn't move, she turned as much as she could, surprised by the scene not only in front of her but also of which she was part of. Sebastian laying beside her, arms wrapped around her as if he didn't want to let go. His hair was completely disheveled, and his mouth was slightly open, letting out occasional snores. The Austrian blushed and tried to prolong the moment, but a flash of light from Sebastian's mobile phone interrupted.

Once again, the ringtone filled the room.

"Seb, wake up, please," the blonde began, pushing him gently to awaken him. "You're getting a call, and I won't be the one to answer."

All she received from the driver were drowsy grunts and a request for five more minutes of sleep. The girl, a bit fearful and curious about whether it was someone important, approached the device and saw the name Hanna on the screen.

Hanna, Sebastian's friend. The one he stood up after the press conference.

Would a friend call you at eight-thirty in the morning on a Sunday? Shouldn't she be at church, studying, or something like that?

"Sebastian," Wagner whispered firmly into the blonde's ear, "Hanna is calling you."

The news seemed to surprise the boy, who quickly bounced out of bed, answering the call. Diana could see desperation in him but chose not to ask where he was heading when he took the phone in his hands and left the room, closing the door firmly behind him.

Sebastian ran out, head down in case anyone from the media recognized him. Hanna had called him twice, and he didn't answer either time, so he assumed she would be worried. He didn't want to imagine how she'd react if she caught him sleeping in his his new friend's hotel room...

No, he hadn't done anything wrong, so he shouldn't panic.

"Hello, Hanna!"

The German greeted his girlfriend, trying to sound as calm as possible, aware that the attempt was in vain. At the same time, he kept moving constantly through the corridors of the third floor.

"Hello, sweetheart! It took you a while to wake up today, right?" Prater replied sweetly, sensing her guy's nervous breathing. "Is something wrong? You sound a bit tense."

"No, no. I just went to bed a bit later than usual preparing some strategies with Alex for today's race," he explained, briefly altering what had actually happened. "I overslept, and they're about to close the buffet, so you might hear me a bit muffled."

Hanna, despite trying to believe her boyfriend, wasn't entirely convinced. She had known Vettel since they entered school. She could tell when something bothered him, especially when he lied. She would venture to say that this was one of those moments when Sebastian preferred to put on a mask and play the actor, as he did every weekend when he had to race.

That was what she liked least about her boyfriend being a Formula 1 driver, and it had become one of the reasons she didn't attend his races, along with the privacy they, especially her, wanted to maintain.

"Are you sure you're okay, Seb?" the German insisted. "Are you worried about today's race, or is there something else?"

"The race is the least of my worries, liebe," he quickly responded, trying to steer the conversation away from that topic. "I'm just nervous because the expectations on me are very high, and I don't want to disappoint anyone. I have so much on my mind right now..."

And that was true. Not every day did you race from your first pole position. Nor did you wake up in a girl's bed, holding her as if your life depended on it, especially when she wasn't your girlfriend and you had only known her for a few months.

The German sighed over the phone, knowing that if her boyfriend was nervous, there was no way to get him to talk. He tended to keep a lot of his feelings to himself, and this seemed to be one of those moments.

"Okay, but if you need to talk or anything, you know I'm just a call away," the girl said affectionately.

"I know, Hanna," Seb replied gratefully. "Don't worry, really. I promise if I win, I'll dedicate you the victory."

Prater accepted her partner's words though she knew something was amiss. Avoiding a conflict, she decided to move on without making a big deal out of it, discussing other matters such as his upcoming return home, whether he felt like going to the movies when they met again and, especially, when they would visit the apartment they had planned to buy in Berlin and liked so much last month.

Throughout the call, Seb tried to stay calm and, especially, forget about the great night he had spent with Di. He knew he had nothing to worry about because he hadn't done anything wrong, but the feeling of guilt for partially hiding the truth from Hanna didn't disappear, no matter how hard he tried.

His girlfriend wouldn't make a scene if she found out, but he was fully aware that it would hurt her because there was nothing she wanted more at that moment than to be there, in Italy.

With him.

Finally, after a few more minutes of conversation, the couple decided to end the call. As soon as he hung up the phone and put it in the back pocket of his pants, Sebastian quickly returned to Diana's room. She welcomed him with tiny spots of partially applied foundation all over her face, especially under her eyes. Their eyes met, and they couldn't help but smile at each other with a hint of shyness.

"We should hurry, Di. We can't waste too much time."

Vettel smiled at the girl and immediately entered the room to see if he had left anything behind. Diana still stood at the door, a bit embarrassed and, let's face it, confused by the pilot's behavior. She simply watched him while he carefully checked if he left anything. She didn't know if it was because of the race, the call from that Hanna person, or the night they had spent together, but the blonde felt the tension running through the guy in front of her.

"Everything okay?" she asked, finishing applying simple makeup while her gaze followed the German's movements. "You seem... I don't know... strange? You usually make jokes at all hours, but today it seems like you've had thirty coffees."

"Yes. Everything is... fine," the blonde replied, although Diana knew his words didn't convey sincerity, especially. "It was just a call from my friend Hanna. Nothing important for you to worry about."

You're acting as if this Hanna is more than just a friend so yes, I should be worried, thought the girl to herself, knowing there was more to that explanation. Even though she wanted to know more, she decided it was best not to press the guy. If he wanted to share something with her, he would do it when he felt comfortable.

"Are you ready to go?" Sebastian asked to change the subject.

"Yes, of course," Diana assured. "While you were on the phone I went down to the buffet and brought you something to eat," she pointed to some plates on the desk with croissants, cold cuts, some seasonal fruit, and two coffees. "I didn't know what you liked, so I chose a variety within your strict diet," she laughed. "I know you like to be calm before a race, and you wanted to leave already, but you should eat something before you go," the girl explained seriously. "I don't want you to leave with an empty stomach."

Sebastian laughed at the childish tone the blonde used while touching his stomach shyly. It reminded him of his mother when he was a bit younger, forcing him to eat before any karting competition.

Nodding in gratitude, the young man took a piece of pastry and filled it with a slice of mortadella. He took his coffee and sat on the bed, trying not to stain anything and eating more slowly than usual for someone in a hurry. Diana sat next to him, with a small glass in her hand filled with the same drink he was having.

"Aren't you eating anything? Do you want a piece? I can share with you. This is way too much for me" he offered, making a motion to cut his breakfast in half.

The girl shook her head and hands, thanking the driver for his offer.

"I already ate something downstairs before," Diana declared with a not very convincing sound. "Anyway, I wasn't very hungry."

Sebastian continued devouring his croissant as if his life depended on it. It seemed he was hungrier than he initially thought because he ended up eating the remaining loose pieces of cold cuts and even an apple and some peach slices. Diana seemed to have read his mind, even though she didn't want to admit it initially.

"Now we really should go, Di," Vettel said, getting up quickly and picking up everything from the belated breakfast. "If we keep delaying, Franz is going to kill me, and Alex, you."

"Do you think Fiori would be capable of killing me?"

Sebastian Vettel smiled at the girl as he put on his coat and took the belongings the girl usually carried with her.

"You have no idea what that man would be capable of, Di," he said, avoiding eye contact at all costs. "But you can't imagine what I would do to prevent that at all costs."

[…]

The journey to the circuit felt longer than the return to the hotel the previous day. This time, there was no soothing rain in the background, no blasting radio with Coldplay music to unwind and drift away. The only thing piercing the ears of Diana and Sebastian was the sound of the car engine, filling the silence within the vehicle.

Well, that and the cheers of thousands of fans waiting outside the circuit, hoping to catch a glimpse of their favorite drivers speeding by in a car. Well, and also photographers, journalists and anyone eager to extract interesting information or, which was the same, create chaos.

As flashes from cameras began to burst, reflecting on the car windows, Sebastian paled, knowing that what would come out of there wouldn't be good. Diana didn't know what to do. Anxiety attacked her gradually until it became almost unbridled. She had never experienced anything like it and she wasn't enjoying any part of the experience. As she watched Vettel rummage through the belongings he seemed to have in the glove compartment, she focused on taking deep breaths and exhaling slowly. She had had so many anxiety attacks since her early teenage years that she knew exactly what to do and how to do it to calm them as quickly as possible, even though it didn't make them easier to endure.

Fans, upon seeing the pole man arrive, started screaming uncontrollably, making it impossible for Sebastian and Diana to hear each other.

"What's going on? Could you tell me what you're doing, Vettel?"

The blonde raised her voice as much as she could so that the German could distinguish what she was saying. However, he didn't utter a word and continued searching for the unknown until he pulled out a pair of sunglasses, which he hurriedly handed to Diana. Slowly, they were entering the lion's den, and the blonde was aware that if he didn't do anything to remedy it, rumors would start spreading like a pandemic.

"Put this on, please."

Sebastian's face pleaded for mercy. Wagner, who understood nothing of what was happening and even less the mystery the driver had in his hands, just made a disgusted face.

"I'm not putting that on," the girl clarified. "So, don't even think about forcing me to."

"Di..."

The entrance to the paddock parking was getting closer and, with it, the possibilities of getting into trouble. The Austrian persisted, trying by all means to get Sebastian to drop that idea, who became fed up and a bit enraged.

"For God's sake, Diana!" he shouted, still trying to remain calm. He couldn't risk his relationship with Hanna that way, especially for going to a race with a friend, only that the friend was a girl. "I've met journalists in the hard way and I don't want you to become their invention of me hooking up with a girl and then brought to the race, okay?"

Relaxation exercises weren't working at all and, more than anxiety, what Diana was feeling at that moment was pure panic. The feeling of claustrophobia was growing, and if before she felt like she was suffocating, now she was sensing her death right there if no one hurried to help her.

Drawing strength from where she didn't have it, she took those glasses and put them on, lowering her head. Sebastian was right: a girl seen with a driver became the subject of rumors that they had hooked up and brought to the race. Diana Wagner was much more than a mere sex toy, although at Toro Rosso people thought otherwise.

The blinding lights passed quickly until they faded along with the cheers and chants. They had finally entered the private parking of the circuit, exclusively reserved for drivers, demonstrating the amount of security gathered in one place.

Diana hurriedly got out of the car, needing to breathe some fresh air even though they were underground. Sebastian spent a few seconds staying inside the car, trying to calm down from the madness they had experienced, and above all, hoping they hadn't taken a photo of him with his companion with enough quality to cause a sensation in news around the world.

"That was crap, Seb," the girl told him as he got out of the car. "Seriously, I don't understand how so many people can be gathered in one place. I'm sure they couldn't breathe! And isn't there any security? At least an ambulance should be there. You know, someone could..."

"Miss, can I know who you are?"

One of the security guards, of considerable stature and a very robust appearance, approached the girl aggressively.

"I'm Diana Wagner, sir. Race engineering intern, part of Toro Rosso's internship."

The firmness with which the Austrian said that while showing her ID was quickly blurred by the laughter of the men present there, except for Vettel, who wanted to say something even though he knew it wasn't the most appropriate. Finally, the twenty-year-old succumbed to the pressure and the murderous looks, joining the laughter even though he tried to do the opposite.

"Oh, I see," one of the men retorted, "Alex's little bitch. Isn't that right, Vettel?"

"Well, she's much more than that. If it weren't for her..." the German replied, cowed.

"Don't tell us stories, Vettel," another of them, albeit slightly more disheveled, approached the mentioned one. "Let's hope you made her scream so much last night that those are the same screams you make when you win today. And then you make her scream again tonight."

Maybe the intention was to say it in a whisper and keep it between them, but Diana heard it all, just like the rest of those present. Bewildered, she looked at Sebastian, who didn't know how to react, ashamed of his behavior and, above all, wanting to apologize to the girl. Then, she ran towards the team garage, trying not to be run over by the cars that were arriving.

Tears ran down her face as she went through the paddock, trying not to collide with anyone who got in her way. The curious looks didn't leave her alone, and Diana noticed that she didn't want anything more than to become as small as an ant and have everyone ignore her or even trample her, because that's what she felt they were doing. Lost in her thoughts, she jumped when she felt someone grab her arm.

"Who made you cry, beautiful?"

It couldn't be true.

It couldn't be Rosberg again.

Wouldn't he get tired of receiving a no for an answer?

"You as soon as you opened your mouth, to be honest," Diana said sarcastically. "Leave me alone, I already have enough dealing with a German, blond, blue-eyed idiot. I don't need to be enduring another one," she replied, changing the language to perfect Spanish and leaving Nico somewhat perplexed, even though he partially understood what she was saying.

Fernando Alonso, who was talking with Felipe Massa nearby, just laughed quietly, earning a few unfriendly glares from the German and a confused one from the Brazilian. The pair decided to approach the younger ones, who were engrossed in a heated argument.

"What are you talking about?" Felipe asked curiously, interrupting the conversation between the German speakers. "Is it about the rumors that have started circulating?"

"What rumors?"

Rosberg seemed to be having a great time trying to annoy Diana. The girl's face, due to anger, had turned a reddish shade similar to the color of the suit worn by those belonging to Ferrari.

"Those saying that Vettel and you spent the night together," added Alonso in his mother tongue. "I don't know the details, and I don't want to know them, but people can't stop talking about it. Be careful, Diana: what starts well, ends badly."

"And why the hell does anyone care who I spent the night with?" Diana shouted a bit louder than expected in perfect Spanish. "For God's sake, Sebastian and I are just friends... I think," she clarified. "There will never be anything between him and me because... I don't have to give you explanations. I'm done with the conversation."

"Can you talk in a language we all understand perfectly?" Nico pleaded, supported by the Brazilian driver. "Please."

In a matter of minutes, Wagner had gone from sadness to irritability, and in that situation, all she wanted was to hit someone. She didn't want to, of course, but containing her aggressiveness in those moments was becoming an impossible task.

Her entrance to the Toro Rosso garage was nothing special either. As always, glances over the shoulder and gossip was what she received from her colleagues. That day, more than sinking Diana's self-esteem a bit more, they managed to make, for the first time in the entire season, the blonde think about herself and go directly to where she usually spent most of her time inside, ignoring everyone.

As the hours passed, the garage filled with engineers engrossed in their monitors, mechanics focused on preparing the cars in perfect condition, and even some random celebrity who had no idea about the sport but was curious and eager to fiddle with everything, becoming a nuisance.

Wagner, absorbed in telemetry to see if she could come up with a plan B in case Alex messed up, despite the shitty behavior the German had had with her on arrival, began to notice that everyone's attention shifted to the entrance of the box. Curious, she decided to ignore Sebastian's data for a moment and imitate the rest.

Sebastian Vettel, already dressed in the appropriate attire to get into the car, entered the place confidently. Despite being hurt by his behavior, Diana couldn't help but make direct eye contact with the blonde, who gave her a remorseful smile. She did no less: smiled back at him.

Sometimes, she hated being a woman who succumbed to the slightest charms of men, especially when they were blond, of medium height, with clear eyes and, especially, treated her well.

Next to him was a man of short stature and a chubby figure, with little hair and a thick beard that gave him a Santa Claus vibe. By his side, tightly holding his hand, was a girl with long jet-black hair, shy and embarrassed in the crowd around her.

Vettel ignored all the calls directed at him and went straight to Diana, eager to introduce her to two of the most important people in his life:

"Di," he began in German, "let me introduce you to a quarter of my family... I think, Maths has never been my strong suit. This is my father, Norbert," he said, pointing to the man, who quickly shook her hand, "and this is Lara, my little sister," he added, pointing to the girl, who shyly nodded her head.

"It's a pleasure to meet you," the girl replied, nervously touching the headphones resting on her neck. "I hope today is lucky and you can see Sebastian take home his first victory."

Vettel's father nodded, very convinced that it would indeed happen.

"I trust my son more than the bank that gave me the loan to pay off our mortgage," he said, patting Seb on the shoulder. "And that's saying something when he's a useless twenty-one-year-old! Plus, having you as an engineer I'm sure everything will go great. Finally I see a girl doing something other than wearing suggestive clothes and applauding these Neanderthals when they step onto the podium!"

"Dad, behave yourself, please," Sebastian forced with a smile while not-so-subtly elbowing his father.

"I'm not Sebastian's engineer, Mr. Vettel," the blonde clarified hastily. "I'm just a team intern. I can't do much, but I promise I'll do my best to ensure your son's race goes as smoothly as possible and, above all, that you enjoy it to the fullest."

Suddenly, Franz appeared and got between them, putting his hands on the shoulders of father and son and leading them away. Sebastian's sister stood in front of Diana, wondering why her brother's boss was so stupid.

"I really wanted to come to a race, but it's all very weird. Mom warned me that this wasn't a good place for a girl like me, and now I see why! Everyone Dad and Seb have talked to seems very silly," she vented, "and you're the only one who has looked at me."

Finally, Lara had gathered the courage to talk to the blonde girl. In response, the girl crouched down to her level. She didn't know why, but that girl, who, despite being of the same blood as the driver, seemed to be the opposite of him, had taken quite a liking to her.

"You get used to it... Lara, right?," the girl nodded, seemingly happy. "I don't usually get much attention, but your brother always manages to make me smile and make me feel valued."

"What does it mean to make you feel valued? Is it something that cost money?"

"It's when someone puts in a lot of effort and you let them know," Sebastian said, reappearing. "Like when your Maths teacher puts a happy face sticker on your notebook when you solve an exercise correctly."

The conversation continued between the siblings and the intern in a more lively and relaxed manner. Lara started to feel more comfortable with the girl, even asking her a few questions about Formula 1 that seemed trivial to Vettel. "What happens if they run out of gas?" or "Can they stop if they need to pee?" were two of the many questions Diana had the pleasure of answering for the ten-year-old until they were interrupted by Alex, who informed Seb, ignoring the two girls, that he had to get into the race car and position it on the starting grid.

The driver apologized, quickly taking Lara's hand to lead her to where Norbert was. Diana simply returned to her seat and hid her head behind one of the screens, but before she could Sebastian spoke to her:

"I couldn't leave without saying goodbye to you. I'm sorry for how I acted earlier. I felt incredible pressure, even more than when I'm on the track! I know it's not an excuse because I could have shut them up as I always do, but...

Diana remained static, unsure of how to answer.

"Aren't you going to say anything?", Seb replied, trying to get a response. "I need my paddock girl to bring me good luck."

"Go get 'em, tiger."

"So now you're Mary Jane Watson, huh?" Sebastian confronted, raising an eyebrow and trying to keep Diana's shyness from escalating after that statement. "I didn't think you liked the geek with glasses who shoots webs, which I love, by the way," he explained, "I saw you more as Gwen Stacy actually. You know, since you're blonde and intelligent as fuck..." he pointed to the girl's hair.

Wagner refrained from biting her tongue. She wished she could tell him that blonde wasn't her natural color and that she was a redhead like Peter Parker's girlfriend, only that the insecurity created in college about her hair color had led her to dye it that platinum almost monthly. Also, she was sure that if she decided to go back to the coppery tone she loved so much deep down, they would say it was just for attention, and that was the last thing she wanted.

She hated hiding her true self, but she hated even more the fact that there was a high chance people would like her for not being herself.

Acting was not a profession that particularly appealed to her, but if she had to dedicate herself entirely to it to get what she wanted most, she was more than willing to continue playing the role of her life.

[...]

The starting signal was about to be given, and in the Toro Rosso garage, everyone was aware of it. The rain was the main cause of this, which had started just moments ago and had suddenly poured down all at once.

Everyone was on their feet, watching Sebastian on the large screen hanging on the wall, eagerly awaiting his start. Even Fiori wasn't positioned in front of his computer, and that had never happened.

The expectations for the German were too high, and he could hear it through the comments filtering through his radio. He began to feel nervous but forced himself to calm down: he not only had a team that had trusted him watching him but also his family, the girl he loved, and possibly the entire Heppenheim. Diana kept her eyes on the screen, not taking them off unless it was to see the seconds remaining for the start.

The thunderous sound of the engines took over everyone's attention when the red lights came on, and after the lights went out, the race cars shot off toward the first turn. Wagner held her breath and crossed her fingers, mentally praying to whoever God might be that Sebastian would have opportunities to win despite the rain, which now seemed to be working against him.

After the start, the Toro Rosso garage began to fill with activity. Mechanics returned to their respective positions, waiting for either of the two drivers to make a pit stop, and the same happened with the engineers, who hurried back to telemetry with their helmets on. Diana also did the same and returned to what had become her corner of confidence, immersing herself in the battle through the team's transmission. The buzz of voices and data filled her mind as she followed the race, while she began, as in any other Grand Prix, to develop her own ideas to improve Vettel's performance even if they were in vain.

In the midst of her thoughts, a familiar voice slipped in. Sebastian had started singing a low melody that didn't quite reach her while maintaining the lead. The intern couldn't help but let out a silly smile at the German's antics that had given the team so many headaches.

"Sebastian, I need you to focus on what's around you, not to think you're Freddie Mercury at Wembley."

As the laps went by, and information exchanges continued, the rain increased simultaneously. Although the intermediate tires were suitable at the start of the race, the weather conditions were worsening, affecting Sebastian's performance. Diana could see on her monitor how the sector times for her driver were deteriorating compared to most of the other drivers, especially Barrichello, who was rapidly closing in.

Vettel seemed to be aware of the issue because he repeatedly urged Fiori to make another pit stop, only to receive rejections from the engineer. The blonde continued analyzing the data, and her mind began to develop a strategy that, while not the best and could risk everything, she knew was the most appropriate.

Even though Diana was just a mere intern, or more of a gofer, with no voice or vote, seen only as a pretty face to showcase that women could be part of motorsport, she knew perfectly well that the data Alex was providing lacked cohesion, the strategy hadn't been properly designed and all of it would end in the greatest disappointment for the German driver if something wasn't done.

"Mr. Fiori," she cautiously began, "I think we should consider thinking about a different plan to maximize the chances of success."

Sebastian, who was holding onto the lead as best he could, started listening to the conversation, quite interested in what the girl was saying.

The Austrian had minimal hopes that her boss's response would be appropriate, but it wasn't. Instead of considering the girl's suggestion and seeing what they could do, Alex looked at her with disdain and began a string of derogatory comments that only soured the intern's day even more.

"Do you think you know anything about strategies?," he replied with disdain. "Girls like you should stick to shutting the hell up and stop spewing shit about something you don't know," the glares were starting to focus between the two of them. "If you're still here, it's because you bring us good reputation, not because you're fit for this," he said, pointing at the data. "I'm sure you have some little task to do right now to earn your salary because you're not doing anything here."

"You don't know that because you haven't given me a damn chance to prove what I'm capable of."

The Italian went cold at the response from the subordinate girl. Even Sebastian, who was listening attentively to the discussion they were having, was impressed by his friend's response, though very proud that she had finally decided to stand up for herself.

"I'm just asking you to make one more pit stop and change to wet tires," Diana explained, ignoring the man. "We would stop in the next two or three laps," she calculated. " Then Sebastian would come out, according to my calculations, from the tenth position onwards, and we wouldn't have to stop again because fuel would be just enough, which would even increase the speed of the race car in the last laps."

"Since when do interns think they've been working in Formula 1 for twenty years or so?", he answer with a completely sarcastic tone. "Wagner: you either follow my rules, or you leave. A girl like you shouldn't tell me what to do to get victories for the team, clear?"

"No, actually," Diana replied, not allowing herself to be intimidated and ignoring the man's last words, "but what is clear is that Hamilton, Button, Alonso and Räikkönen have switched to wet tires and are improving their times. That should also be clear to you, just as information."

Alex looked at her with anger. He wanted to kill her at that moment.

"Look, little one...", he commented, approaching the girl intimidatingly. "Stay quiet in some corner like the whore you are. I'm sure the next time you open your mouth, someone, I hope not to be me, will shut you up in ways you won't like. Or maybe you will."

If it hadn't been for her self-control, Diana would have given the man in front of her the beating of his life. She could hear Vettel's voices in the background, very coupled, and how he demanded Alex to leave the girl alone. The twenty-year-old sounded very frustrated, and she completely understood: they were ruining his race.

But Diana Wagner wasn't going to let that happen.

Just as she was about to say something more, Franz Tost appeared, approaching Fiori and whispering something in his ear that none of those around them could hear. The engineer looked at the team leader and simply nodded his head before disappearing from there together.

"You better hope this isn't broadcasted on television, Wagner." Fiori threatened as he disappeared. "If it is, you'll pay dearly."

At that moment, the blonde's adrenaline was so high, even though she felt like shit, that she didn't stop to think about her boss's words, quite the opposite: as quickly as possible, and making sure no one saw her, she took Fiori's headphones and began giving orders to the driver:

"Seb, I don't know if you trust me, but I need you to do the following, so listen to me, please," Diana ordered, drawing strength from where she didn't have it. "You're going to stop in the next lap, change to wet tires and they will give you enough fuel to finish the race with a margin," the urgency in the girl's voice was evident. "Weather conditions are getting worse, and so is the track. If you stick with the intermediates, you risk losing the victory."

The blonde's intervention completely caught Vettel off guard, but he began to mysteriously relax.

"Di, are you sure about what you're saying? Do you think it's the best option?"

She nodded, even though the guy couldn't see her.

"The majority have already stopped and, if my calculations don't fail me," she began to review the telemetry, "you, Bourdais and Webber are the only ones who haven't made any tire changes. All you're going to achieve is gaining grip on the track, getting more speed and securing a victory."

Sebastian took a deep breath, and his response was immediate:

"Okay, Di. Hey... thanks for standing up against Alex," he confessed. "Sometimes he can get a little crazy with all this and loses his nerves under pressure."

"You don't have to apologize," she said affectionately. "I'm here for this, and I'd rather end up on the street than not being able to help you to show what you can do."

One pit stop, about seventeen more laps, and some struggles that kept hearts pounding until the end, Sebastian Vettel was the first to cross the waving checkered flag of the circuit. Everyone from Toro Rosso began running euphorically to the fence to greet the guy, still racing in his race car and already heading to parc fermé. Cheers and applause began filling the air, and all eyes were on the young German driver who had achieved his first victory.

Sebastian, with his helmet still on, ran towards his mechanics and even to his engineer, who celebrated the victory as if he had been part of it. The blonde's face was infected with a smile that seemed unwilling to disappear; his arms, raised in a sign of victory, were followed by what, from that moment on, would become his characteristic celebration: his index finger pointing straight, indicating that he had finished first.

Diana, who was watching everything from the box, witnessed the scene with a series of conflicting feelings. Before the German was taken by some responsible people to the podium, she saw how their eyes met, and Seb articulated a thank you in their native language, intended only for her; he even blew her a kiss and winked at her, but she didn't give it much importance because he did the same on the podium many times, looking directly at his team.

Everything happened very quickly. The podium ascent after the post-race weigh-ins. The German anthem in honor of the champion, immediately followed by the Italian anthem; the trophy presentations and the corresponding champagne celebration, concluding with an interview where Sebastian couldn't stop thanking Tost, Alex, and the team in general.

As the girl expected, there was no special mention of Diana Wagner; just a note on the floor of her hotel room that welcomed her as soon as she crossed the door.

Thank you for making this possible, newbie. I apologize for the haste, but Horner has arranged a dinner with Tost and a couple of others to discuss my Red Bull contract more seriously. I wanted to see you, and no matter the excuses I've given, Britta has forced me to go. You should see how ridiculous I look in a suit. I owe you a dinner and, above all, my life, I would say. 

P.S.: The kisses I threw were for you, each and every one of them; without you, none of this would have been possible. 

P.S.2: I owe you a dinner, how about at the end of the season? That way, we avoid surprises :) 

P.S.3: I don't know if roses are your favorite flowers, and I don't know if you like chocolate, but... I hope you at least like the small detail you have on your desk. 

The surface where that morning she had set the breakfast for the German was now almost completely covered with a large bouquet of flowers and various types of Italian sweets.

Diana Wagner was slowly sinking into quicksand, and she wasn't even aware of it yet.

[…]

Sebastian Vettel detested nothing more than meetings, especially after winning his first victory when he could be out getting drunk with shots and various drinks, leaving him vomiting and hungover the next morning.

Or having a quiet dinner with Diana in his room as a thank-you for what she had done for him.

God, how much he loved that girl.

He emerged from the bathroom with disheveled hair, wearing only a towel around his waist. Small drops of water fell down his bare chest, but Vettel was so eager to talk to his girlfriend that he took a shower of less than a minute, dried off quickly, and rushed to his backpack to grab his laptop and call Prater on Skype.

Hanna appeared on the screen, but not her exactly. Instead, there was photo she had taken for her university ID. It was strange for the German to have the camera off. Normally, after a race, she was always eager to see Sebastian to chat or even do something crazy.

"Sorry for taking so long, love," Seb started saying. "Britta, as we know her, forced me to go to a dinner with..."

His words were interrupted by the arrival of two photos his girlfriend had sent through the app's chat. His gaze shifted to the blurry, thumbnail-sized images that were downloading. When they opened, he could clearly see himself holding the steering wheel with one hand while the other reached for a blurry face, one he knew perfectly was Diana's.

Damn.

This couldn't be happening.

"Were you busy with dinner or that blonde who looks so much like me and clearly isn't me?"

The question was directed straight at the German, who began to get nervous. No matter how much he tried to stay calm because he hadn't done anything, he couldn't help his pulse skyrocketing uncontrollably.

"Hanna, listen, it's not what you think," he began to explain, searching for the right words for her to listen.

She, now with her camera activated, stared at him through the screen, her blue eyes reflecting only disappointment.

"Seb, I need you to tell me the truth."

"Liebe, I promise there's nothing between that girl and me," the German's thoughts began to jumble. "It's Diana, I think I've told you about her. The intern. It was just pouring rain and I wasn't going to let her walk alone to the circuit."

Hanna interrupted him:

"I understand, darling," she said, "but I don't understand why you're smiling. Do you feel more comfortable with her than with me?" The girl began to cry. "Damn it, I'm so insecure. You dedicated today's victory to me with those kisses..."

Vettel ran his hand through his wet hair, completely desperate with that situation. He knew Hanna was very insecure and that what bothered her the most when he was away was the people he associated with. For that reason, they had had a thousand and one fights that kept happening despite the driver assuring her that she was the love of his life and the only person he had eyes for.

But that didn't mean he wasn't guilty of the events of the previous night and the accumulating lies, like the dedication of the victory.

It wasn't for Hanna but for the girl who seemed to be slowly becoming his girlfriend's replacement in the paddock.

"Hanna, I promise you have nothing to worry about," the blonde said, feeling great guilt because the photos were taken with the intention of creating misunderstandings. "My relationship with you is the most important thing to me. Besides, Diana probably has a boyfriend. She's just a mate, and if it makes you feel better, I'll talk to her to avoid misunderstandings," he let out. "If you allow me, of course."

The girl seemed to consider it for a moment until she finally agreed.

"Okay, Seb. But I want you to swear to me, for the sake of everything you hold dear, that if something changes between you two and you start to be more than friends, you'll tell me. You know you have my trust to do so."

Sebastian nodded seriously, swallowing at the same time to contain the question that was eating him up inside these days.

Why had he grown so fond of Diana Wagner in such a short time?

[pluto-supremacy]

YOUR VI JAIL FIC WAS SO GOOD AND THE HEADCANONS WERE SO SO ACCURATE. :'( IF POSSIBLE, CAN YOU MAKE A P2 TO HOW THEIR LIFE IS OUTSIDE OF PRISON WHEN THEY MAKE IT OUT? or an angst with caitlyn being blackmailed by the warden to only let one prisoner out? :3 said one being vi, and vi having to abandon reader?

Vi Fic: Bye Bye Bun

➼ Aaaah thank you so much! I'm so glad so many people liked the Stillwater headcanons^^ I was afraid my Vi was going to be soooo out of character. I decided to write some angst first >:) if this fic does well or I get another ask I'll also work on life after Stillwater, give you guys some fluff after this

➼ Continuation of Vi Headcanons: dating f!reader at Stillwater

➼ No beta we die like Claggor (I'm running out of people who die in the series-)

➼ Warnings: None! Bit of a longer fic for you guys today, enjoy!

GIF does not belong to me! All credits to the owner

The sound of knuckles meeting hard concrete echoed throughout the cell block, small grunts following close behind. "You know we don't get clean bandages for another two weeks Vi, your knuckles are going to get infected at this rate." you called out. Suddenly the pounding stopped and a small chuckle was heard. "Don't worry about me bun, just trying to blow off some steam," she said, pacing around her cell instead of beating up a wall. "You should really get some sleep. Long day tomorrow"

"No such thing as a short day here." you groaned. Carefully you laid down on the ground of the cell. Vi's was only a few doors down, close enough to talk just above a whisper but way too far away to see each other. Both of you always slept against the walls that faced each other. It was the closest thing to sleeping next to each other in this shithole. Aside from whenever you two napped during free time of course. Even then Vi stayed wide awake to ensure you were okay.

"Goodnight Vi, wake me up if anything happens, okay?" "I will Y/N, I promise"

That was nearly two hours ago. You were sound asleep by now, the cold, hard floor no longer keeping you up. It was something every prisoner in Stillwater had to get used to. Mattresses weren't provided. The few that did get a thin mat to sleep on at night only got one after a lot of medical visits and several notes stating they needed one for medical reasons. You and Vi weren't so lucky to have any notes. Still, there were worse things here. Like the food. That's why any food or snacks that were smuggled in were high value items. Currently you had a packet of chips hidden under a loose brick right where you slept. You scored them a few days ago and wanted to surprise Vi by sharing them tomorrow.

The elevator dinged as the doors opened, the clack of heels filling the halls. Caitlyn stopped in front of Vi's sell, her hood still up. "What the hell do you want?" Vi asked, glancing over at the taller woman. "Your help. You beat up an inmate, I needed to question him about a crime scene from yesterday. Why did you break his jaw?" "Because I wanted to." She responded with a small shrug, disinterested in whoever this enforcer was. "Why are you in here?" Caitlyn tried again, looking over the file in her hands. "For my sunny personality." Vi shot back immediately.

Caitlyn shook her head, sighing. "This was a waste of time." she closed the file and her journal, starting to walk off. Maybe she could find away around a broken jaw, pen and paper perhaps. "Couldn't have said it better myself. Give Silco a kiss for me on that winning eye of his." that was what caught the enforcer's attention. Turning around she walked back to Vi's cell, getting a bit closer to the bars. "Silco? The industrialist?" "Hardly what I'd call an industrialist." She scoffed, leaning against the bars. That's when the other woman held up something that caught her eye.

In Caitlyn's journal was a picture of a spray-painted monkey. Just like the ones Powder used to make. "Where did you get this?" Vi asked, desperation creeping into her voice. "My question first. The inmate worked for Silco?" "Everyone in here does. You of all people should know that. Now where did you find that?" "It was at the crime scene, this is evidence" Caitlyn responded. She had the upper hand here now. "If I'm to believe you about Silco, I'm going to need proof."

A way out. Vi could get both of you out of here. "I can provide you proof. Just, not from in here" she gestured to the bars around her. "And," she began to add on "I need another inmate. Inmate 381. I'm not leaving without her." Caitlyn seemed to consider this for a moment. Then she turn and left without a word. What that meant, Vi had no clue.

Caitlyn had ran off back to the warden, forging papers along the way for the release of two inmates. She needed Vi's help to track whoever this person was down, so if someone else had to come along, so be it. As she put the papers down on the warden's desk, he seemed to lazily look over them. "I have orders to release inmates 381 and 516." she spoke up. He hummed in thought before shaking his head. "I can only release one." "What? It says right there-" "I can read. But I'm only releasing one. Pick." "..inmate 516."

So when Caitlyn returned and opened Vi's cell, she immediately ran to your cell. Or at least tried to. The enforcer stopped her a few steps in. "The warden only let me release one of you. You understand that-" "No I don't! This wasn't part of the deal!" Vi went to grab the collar of Caitlyn's dress, the other wrapping her hands around Vi's wrists as she was pressed against the wall. "You will-" "If you try anything I will make sure you're put back behind bars and you never see that other inmate again." Cait rushed out. It wasn't what she wanted to resort to, threats, but it seemed to work.

Almost instantly Vi's grip loosened, slowly setting Caitlyn back down on the ground. Leaving you...

"Once we're done, you let her out. Immediately. No excuses, exceptions, or delays. And I get to say goodbye." Vi demanded. That was fair, anyone could agree to that. Thankfully Caitlyn began nodding, dusting her dress off. "Go ahead then. Afterwards we need to get going to the Undercity."

This was going to hurt.

Vi walked over to your cell, kneeling down at the bars. You were still all curled up, dead asleep. She gently knocked on the bars. "Bun..bun you gotta wake up." That was odd. Vi's voice sounded so close...as you opened up your eyes you saw your girlfriend just on the other side of the bars. There was no quicker way to wake up than seeing your lover free from her cell. "Vi! You escaped! How-" you were cut off by seeing Caitlyn standing behind Vi.

"Who is that?" "Y/N, I can explain." "Vi, who is that!" you were shouting now. You didn't even fully realize it. "She's the one that got me out-" "So now you're going to get me out?" you interrupted. Seeing the pain flash on Vi's face told you everything that you needed to know. "You're leaving me.." your voice was barely audible, but Vi caught every word. She could feel her heart shattering as she saw the tears form in your eyes. "It's only for a little bit. The warden wouldn't let us both out, once I'm done helping Caitlyn we're coming right back for you, I promise."

You wanted to believe her. Vi had never lied to you before, why would she start now? Maybe it was the fear of never seeing her again. Or maybe it had to do with the enforcer standing behind her. Caitlyn was beautiful, you had to admit, so what if...

"No, no this isn't right. Vi you can't leave me here!" you shouted, crawling up to the bars and reaching out to grab Vi's wrist. "Vi you can't leave me! Please don't leave me!" the tears finally began rolling down your cheeks faster than you could wipe them away. Vi's own eyes were starting to gloss over with tears. "I'm coming back for you, Y/N. I swear on my life I'm not leaving you. It'll be a few days tops." "What does she," you nodded your head towards Caitlyn "even need help with, huh? What are you going to do for her?"

That cut deep. Vi tried not to take it to heart as she stood up, pressing one last kiss to the back of your hand. "I'm coming back for you." she repeated, steeling herself to actually leave. To not fall to her knees and tell Caitlyn to find someone else. This was your guy's chance of freedom. Even if this hurt you now, it was better in the long run. Everything would be better when you two could be together outside of Stillwater. "Bye bye, bun. I'll be back for you" and with that she turned around and started walking away. Vi knew if she turned around to look at you one last time, she'd never leave.

That's when the shouting started.

"Vi! Vi turn around right now! You can't leave me here!" you were standing up now, having an iron grip on the bars. Almost trying to bend them out of the way so you could run to Vi. Unfortunately you weren't that strong and the bars weren't that weak. "Violet don't leave me!"

Vi quickened her pace, rushing towards the elevator. Your voice was starting to blend with Powder's the day they were separated. It was all too much. She was going to find Powder and come back for you. Everything would be okay, everything would be right. As the elevator doors closed, she heard one last thing. Yours and Powder's voice were nearly indistinguishable from one another as you yelled out:

"TRAITOR!"

[melanthaeunomia]

Injuries, Inventions, And Infatuation -Leo Valdez x Reader (Established Relationship)

A/N ❧ Short drabble! Thought it was a cute scenario, Not proof read! also English is not my first language so please excuse any spelling or grammar mistakes (possibly not book accurate but idk) Content ❧ injured!Leo Valdez x Apollo!Reader Warnings: Fluff, injuries, established relationship Word count ❧ 600+ Thoughts and Requests w/me

Leo’s siblings practically had to force him to go to the infirmary, He was too focused on his inventions and didn’t even notice how many cuts and bruises he got “god damnit Leo! come- in!” Charles groaned dragging Leo by the collar of his shirt, Lucky for you, you were working the shift that day. Leo was too ashamed to face you, especially since you’ve warned him the last time he went to the infirmary that you’ll prohibit him to work on new projects. You raised your brow at the both of them your gaze focused on the half dry bruises “Ah Here’s your boy” Charles said, pushing the Flush red Leo over to one of the beds making him stumble over to your arms

you quickly caught him, giving him a death glare as he sat down the bed, You then turned back to Charles with a sweet smile “You got it from here? he asked and you replied by giving him a subtle nod and he left the infirmary

“In my defense-” Leo stuttered looking down “what?.” You lifted his chin up so he was facing you eye to eye, he felt his cheeks burn up gulping as he tried to think of what to say “Exactly.” you scoffed turning away from him grabbing medical supplies to bandage his wounds up “why’d you let it get this bad?” you were furious and worried that he haven’t been takin care of himself “Are you mad?” He whispered placing his hands on the back of your waist “don’t- don’t do that.” you murmured slapping his hand away, god this boy knew how to make you fold, You turn back towards him seeing his usual grin plastered in his face “Sit” You demanded tired of his flirting, you weren’t gonna complain though “yes ma’am” was he seriously teasing you to get out of trouble right now? Your eyes rolled back, gently gripping his wrist as you cleaned up his wounds.

“A-ah -ah Careful!” He flinched almost snatching his hand away but you kept a tight grip “Seriously though, You’re so oblivious to your injuries” You scolded but the tone in your voice softened and now gently cleaning up his cuts, He saw your eyes with genuine worry and he felt bad, using his other hand he tucked in a loose strand behind your ear “I’m okay, its just a couple bruises..” He tried to reassure you, kissing your forehead “still! you get too caught up in your inventions, have you even eaten?” You snapped getting tired of him ignoring what his body needs, your brows furrowed when he didn’t answer “i think?” Leo mumbled not entirely sure of when was the last time he ate, you scoffed “my god?, that’s it I’m prohibiting you of making any more new inventions until you Eat, sleep properly!” You purposely tied the bandages tight to make him twitch “That– that’s fair..” He sighed giving in, the corners of his lips curling up as he watched you kiss the bruises and gently rub them.

He’ll never get tired of your scolding though, how you genuinely cared for him, how you acted annoyed every time you saw him in the infirmary, but still patched him up whenever he needed. And even if you were scolding him, his brain wouldn’t process it. Your eyes distracting him with pure worry and focus on him, and how you blushed whenever he would say something suggestive, he loved you when you get mad at him for not taking care of himself, he loved knowing that someone cares about him, he loved you.

Riordan verse Masterlist

[celestialsun888]

Good ol’ Boy.

@celestialsun888

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Pairing: Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x F!Reader

Genre: Filthy Smut! [+18 MDNI]

Word Count: 2.6k

Synopsis: Ghost pushes you just enough to see if you have it in you to top him.

★ TW: Bottom!Simon/ Top!Reader, heavy teasing, Simon being a little shit, size kink (ofc ofc), vulgar language, slight angst if you use binoculars, public sex, knife play, slight overstimulation, face sitting/riding (f!receiving), *slight* voyeurism, established relationship (more like fwb), he calls you mommy like once, (Let me know if I’ve missed any!)

✒ Authors Note: I had to bc the switch in me said so. Also: who doesn’t wanna hear him whimper? ;3 Also also, idk shit about MW2/ the military and all that, I am just hyper fixated on this man so if something isn't accurate pls spare me lol. This also isn't super proofread so if there are mistakes, shhh.

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Simon always had a way of getting under your skin. Knowing all the right buttons to push and saying all the right words that provoked you. 

You and Simon had been seeing each other casually a short while after you joined task force 141. He showed little restraint in making teasing passes at you during training, making the other members catch on quickly to you and the Lieutenants relationship. Soap even questioned you about it often, shelling out jokes he knew he couldn’t make around Ghost. 

You hated how Ghost just knew you so well, how observant he was. One small change and he knew it. 

“What’s with you today?” His husky voice questioned, taking off his gear and throwing it onto his bed. The room was small and cramped allowing little space for separation from his words. Thankful for a short break from training that allowed for little free time. His eyes followed your figure as you stripped yourself of your gear as well. Observing you intently. 

“Nothing.” You huffed. You remained focused on the floor, the walls. Anything but him. 

He hesitated from undressing, watching your demeanor stiffen as you felt his sharp gaze cut into your back. You didn't have to look at him to know, his presence was suffocating on its own. You knew when he watched you. The strangely gentle noise of his footsteps inched along the wooden floor, creaking with every step. Each step closer made you nervous to continue undressing, you kept your back to him avoiding any kind of contact. Rough, firm hands positioned themselves on your shoulder, gently tracing down to your wrists. He always managed to make you feel engulfed by him, his size taunting you. His chest was to your back as you felt his hot breath on the nape of your neck. The body heat and sweat that radiated off of him seeped into you, reiterating his stark presence. 

“Doesn’t seem like nothing?” The movement of his lips now grazing gently along the side of your neck sending chills that formed along your skin. You could tell he was trying his best to get it out of you and hoping to get lucky that it leads to more. He always starts with being gentle and kind until you give the signal that you want him in the worst possible ways. Everyone knew he was kinder to you, but they assumed it was only because he fucked you and he didn’t want to lose his precious toy in such desperate times. Even if it was true, you knew he had a sweet spot for you though he often tried to hide it.

That's how it went with Simon: Build you up, wash you in sweet divine praises, suffocate you with tension till you're needy for him, eventually forcing you to seek release with him as he makes you see heaven. But you hated how he always acted so… dominant. You wanted him needy, him to beg and whimper for you, though you would never say it. He always told you he enjoyed you playing the ‘innocent’ good girl for him, so you devotedly agreed. I mean what would he think? Would he laugh at you for being so little in comparison to him, not even able to possess a fraction of the strength he has, and wanting to…top him? The thought dissipated as he nestled his nose into your neck, his stubbly chin itching along your delicate skin. You shook him off trying to escape his rather sweet advances. He shifted his posture and stood with an offended acknowledgement. 

“The fuck is with you?” He threatens.

“Why do you tease me like that?” You say referring to his taunts earlier that day. You tried bubbling up any self respect you had. “Like–like,” you stutter, “like I'm just so much weaker than you. I am very capable, Simon.” 

His eyes followed you as you gave distance between you two, narrowing in on every word you spoke to him. Your tone sounds harsh and more aggressive. He let you go on, intrigued by your forwardness.

“You treat me like all I am to you is your submissive little doll that just does whatever you say. That you can just tease me and humiliate me for your own sick pleasure.” you protested. His eyes serve a glint of understanding before growing dark again. He knew what you were saying without even having to say it. 

“That's what you're good at,” he mockingly justifies before turning his back to you. The silence of his argument settles into the heavy room, suppressing any ounce of rebuttal.  

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Training seemed harder later that day. Simon refused to even look at you, no more teasing or taunting. Perhaps the little dispute you two had earlier irked him more than you thought. Or maybe he was just being respectful of what you expressed to him: that you no longer wanted him to tease you in such a way that made you feel submissive. 

Your thoughts raced, unfocused on the directions Price was giving out to your team for the drill.

“Ghost. Y/N. You will be our snipers.” You jolted back to the present where you watched Ghosts' empty eyes devour you. Fucking great, we are partnered together. Even though nine times out of ten you were partners, you had hoped this was the one time you weren’t. As everyone splits off into their designated pairings preparing for the training drill, Ghost approaches you.

Your breath hitched as you tried to remain calm. 

“Lucky me huh?” He scoffed. You followed his lead as he continued to walk past letting the snarky comment trail behind him. Ghosts broad back tapered down into his waist, his hips swayed slightly as his barbaric walk guided you to the lookout. 

Conversation lacked while you sat with him, occasionally staring down the scope to see if anything was happening. You felt the urge to say something, to mutter some sort of apology for snapping on him earlier, but he was quick to beat you to it. 

“Where the hell did that come from? Your little outburst earlier?” He asked forwardly. 

“I–I just—” you struggled to be transparent.

“What, you wanna top me or something, sweetheart?” his eyes never breaking away from the field he was surveying, your hands felt itchy from the confrontation. Your face flushing with heat trying your best to not make it obvious. He was so blunt, did he really know you that well?

“Would you let me?” you ask sickeningly innocent. He silently chuckled under his mask, not giving you the satisfaction of seeing his shit eating grin. 

“You can't even tell me you wanna make me your bitch, how could I take you seriously, princess?” he baited. He always called you that when you were under him, taking every inch of him. He worshiped you with that name. A name that solidified your submission to him. 

“If you can't handle it just say that,” you retort back. “I mean, it seems like you're the bitch considering you are afraid to let a little ol’ girl like me top you.” Your eyes now fixed on the field as well, letting whatever floats to your mind out due to irritation. He looks up from his scope and mutters a string of obscenities. 

“You wouldn’t be able to, angel. It's just me being honest. You're only good for taking it….” he leaned his head back down to his scope, “...if you want to top me, then do it.” 

As his words lingered in the air for you to ponder, Soap's voice came over the comms. 

“Taking a quick break LT, we will let you know when we resume.” Ghost relays understanding though his walkie and sits up to lean on a large rock behind him. You mimic him. A few moments of silence passed. 

“Hm,” he chuckled lightly to himself, “surprised I still haven’t been taken advantage of. Must not want it that bad yeah?” He jokes, manspreading and rutting up his hips to adjust into a more comfortable position. You fidget with the knife in your hand out of boredom and a slight distraction from the tension.

“Honestly, it doesn't even make sense–you trying to dominate me.” Anger flushed in your stomach. “You're tiny, you know. You don't hold much weight against me,” before finishing his demeaning thought you swiftly meet your knife to his neck, partly covered by his skull balaclava. His eyes lighting up with passion and intrigue. 

“Shut the fuck up, Riley,” you protest. He didn’t move or utter a word, his seated position staying the same, possibly shocked at your defense, or maybe just wanting to see where it goes. Maybe you did have it in you, it just took a bit of provoking. You made your way on top of him, knife still to his throat, as you did your best to stretch your legs over his wide frame. He sat there, a smirk outlined through his mask, eye contact never breaking. You traced your knife up to his chin, catching the fabric with it, exposing his stubbly neck and jaw. Your free hand resting on his upper thigh, close enough to his crotch to make him squirm. 

“I can make you my bitch no matter what size I am, Simon.” His eyes now inflamed with excitement. The knife to his neck, the vulgar words. You calling him your bitch for a change. You inch the blade up ever so slightly hearing the scratch of his stubble. You could feel his bulge through his pants as you leaned into him more, “I'll make you a good ol’ boy for me.” 

His chest rose and fell deeply, the erection growing in his pants. “Please me good, Riley, and I’ll make you feel the closest to heaven you will ever get.” Hands tracing over your waist he grabs you, hoisting you up to center your hips in front of his face as he remains seated against the rock. Unzipping your pants, your delicate panties show, his gloved fingers moving to massage your clit not yet removing the delicate fabric to reveal your dripping cunt. 

“Lift up your mask, show me your pretty mouth Lieutenant” you demand. He is devotedly obedient to your request. His balaclava rests on the bridge of his nose, his eyes waiting for your next demand. 

“Open.”

You slide your panties off to the side, exposing your dripping essence to him and anyone who could potentially look up and see you. Slowly, you start to grind against his wet tongue, lapping up any bit of excitement that came from you. Soft goans vibrated against you as he became more rough with his mouth, sucking your sensitive clit only to stick his thick tongue back into your core. Lapping circles around your pussy. 

“Don’t stop until I cum. That’s your only purpose, do you understand?” His needy moans expressing his devout service. You inched closer to your climax as you started to grind harder against his face, your puffy clit hitting his nose, offering added pleasure. The sloppy strokes of his tongue became erratic as the knot in your stomach tightened fully, arousal dripping down his jaw and neck. The lewd noises of his moans into you made you weak, causing your high to be intense. Your body shuddered as you came, breath hitching as his hands held you on his mouth, sucking your sweet lips through your climax. As you pulled off of him his eyes were wild with desire, the idea of you forcing him to please you showed through his tented pants. His bulge pulsated, twitching within the fabric that wore a wet stain that pooled next to it. His cock was already leaking, just from eating you out. Did he…cum?

“Fuck,” he exclaimed shakily, hand reaching down to obscure your sight of his premature ejaculation. He really enjoys being submissive huh?

“Did you cum?” you inquired. Nervous laughter escaped his lips. You parted his hand away from his pants getting a better look, eyes darting up to meet his. 

“Oh you naughty, naughty boy. I didn’t say cum while you please me now did I?” Disappointment lacing your tone. “Do you know what disobedient boys get when they dont listen?” The sarcastic tone in your voice alluding to a rhetorical question. You wind your hand up following through to meet Simon's reddened cheek. A loud smack echoing through the air. 

“Punishments.” 

You unzip his pants exposing his thick length, still twitching. Cum dripped down his warm shaft as some of his essence still leaked from his slit. You cooed at him, expressing pity for his lack of self control. 

“Ah~” he moaned weakly, still sensitive, “I’m sorry, I couldn’t–” His pleas were cut off by another ridgid slap. You could see his compliance in his glassy eyes. 

“Look at you, a mess. Pleading for my forgiveness, can't even control yourself when pleasing me. Looks like you get off on being my bitch, huh?” you hissed at him, unrelenting. “Since you want to indulge in pleasure, you're gonna have to beg me to cum. And maybe, if I’m feeling nice, I'll let you.” His chest heaved.

You grabbed his already sensitive cock and teased it, watching him hiss as he accepted his fate. You worked your hands up and down his shaft, feeling it stiffen. You hold out your hand signaling him to spit in it. He obeys. Lewd, wet noises exude from you both as he fingers your pussy through your underwear while you stroke his length quickly. His whimpers and whines encourage you to continue your salacious advances. His whimpers start to elicit needy cries, rutting and bucking his hips more into your hand. His fingers quickly move in and out of your sopping cunt causing his mind to race, drawing swears from his lips. His balls feeling heavier, his incessant whines becoming more convoluted. He was close. 

“Do you wanna come for me?” you insist. “Then let every little whimper and beg fall from your lips Simon. Tell me how bad you want this.” His head shoots back, submissively exclaiming fucked out phrases, seaching for pleas and begs that satisfy you.

“Fuck, please–mmph– please let me cum.” His words dripping with euphoria and depravity. “Let me fucking cum, I’ll be good for you, so good. I’ll be your good fucking boy mommy.” With one firm stroke meeting with his bucking hips he grasps for the dirt around him as thick spurts of cum shoot out of his reddened cock. Ropes of cum spill over your hand, making a mess of his unzipped pants. Making a mess of himself. Convulsing within your tight grip his eyes clamp shut. Tears welling up in the corners, so close to spilling out. His intense climax halts his breathing as he falls from his heightened state. Tip extremely sensitive, swollen from his release. Your hand pauses before gently rubbing your thumb over his slit. He hisses from the touch, followed by a deep sigh. 

“Aw, good boy Simon,” you praise. His vision is still trying to focus. Shock sets in as he realizes his enjoyment of your treatment. 

“Fuck, princess,” He teases, trying to regain some form of control. You shoot him a playfully annoyed look. 

The comms come on as his walkie sits in the dirt inches away from the two of you. Soaps' voice echos over the call, “Are we ready to continue?,” a slight pause of dead air, “By the way, never thought I’d hear the day LT begged like that.” 

Ghost pulled his balaclava over his embarrassed expression and grabbed the walkie. 

“The only begging you’ll have to worry about is begging me not to kill you after all this is over.”

[poppadom0912]

Hi! You have so many good Chicago stories! I had an idea for a Will Halstead fic, if you'd be interested... OC/Reader is a nurse at Med, she and Will are a (newish?) couple. She has been sick or hurt, but isn't telling Will, to avoid worrying him - Sharon (or someone) has been on his ass, for something he didn't do of course, but he's been under a microscope, so she doesn't want to bother or distract him - until she passes out or ends up in an OR (depending on the illness/injury) and he finds out after the fact... Heavy on the angst is always good ;)

A/N: I'm a sucker for angst. Hope this is good enough. I tried researching as accurately as possible but there might be inaccuracies.

I'm posting this is celebration of not failing my exams which means no resitting! I didn't get the high grades I wanted but we move on. Enjoy!! Hope this is good enough.

Warnings: Canon-typical injuries, blood, angst w a happy ending, surgery

*****

Becoming a nurse was inevitable for you because it was the next best thing after a doctor and you didn't want to go through all those extra years of learning and debt.

You were born with a congenital heart defect as a result of your mother poorly caring for her diabetes during pregnancy. All your life, your parents had been on top of your health, always dragging you to specialists and making sure you were still taking your meds.

You moved states several years ago and now you weren't constantly reminded of the defect you were born with.

There were times though when you did get forgetful and Will never complained about your bad trait that you couldn't handle, he shrugged it off and made sure your health was one hundred percent.

Your relationship was in the honeymoon phase, six months in you were both decently comfortable. Everyone was aware of your relationship but you both agreed to keep work at work and home at home.

Recently, Will was under extra scrutiny from Sharon because of a small incident that happened in the ED when his brother rolled up bleeding from his shoulder. No one could blame him for his reaction, it was completely justified but that hospital were being asses and wouldn't let go.

Following this, your interactions at work decreased at your suggestion to make things a little easier for him. And at first, it was working but then it just got straight up frustrating.

All of a sudden, following the intense summer heatwave, everyone's workload doubled and your hours never lined up. You'd be leaving and he'd be preparing for his second double shift of the week.

And things only got worse from there. You were so busy because of the nurse shortages that your priorities began shifting, your health dwindling down the list.

But no one needed to know that.

*****

Week One

"And that's me done, you ready to break?" Will asked, setting aside the tablet on the desk. You both took your breaks together as much as you could, any time you could get together you would take.

"Yes I am." You nodded, slipping your hand into his as you began walking out of the ED. "I remember someone promising coffee from the cart outside."

Will chuckled, rolling his eyes at the reminder of the expensive coffee sitting outside that you loved. Just as he was going to reply, Maggie shouting your name stopped him.

Sighing, your heart felt heavy both figuratively and literally. With a sheepish smile, you pecked him on the cheek with a promise to catch him later on during shift.

Not being able to get a word in, Will simply watched you scurry off to help the next incoming patient, leaving him to change directions towards the cafeteria.

*****

Week two

You should've been more attentive but being short of breath after a run wasn't uncommon. It was early morning and Will's side of the bed was empty so you took what used to be a daily run alone.

As the day progressed, you started feeling tired and your fatigue progressed. It should've been the first sign to you that you needed to slow down and take care of yourself but the next shooting in Chicago just couldn't wait.

"Y/N, are you okay?" April asked, standing besides you with a new file in hand. "You look pale."

"I'm fine." You assured her, nodding as you licked your drying lips. "And before you ask, Will doesn't know and doesn't need to be interrupted, he has a patient in the ICU."

April backed away apprehensively, always trying to check up with you whenever time permitted. Maybe she was also to blame for not being more forceful with her concerns.

It wasn't her fault that she forgot you had a heart disease.

*****

Week three

"I love you so much." You muttered against his forehead before stepping away to leave the dark bedroom.

Will stirred slightly at the contact, shifting under the covers and further messing up his curls you so badly wanted to delve your fingers into but you were on a time crunch.

Just as you were leaving the room, your chest clenched, pain suddenly overtaking you. Clutching onto the door frame, your grip slacked and your bag dropped causing Will to wake up.

"What's wrong?" Will asked in his half awake state, completely disheveled. He was blinking the sleep away while he turned to you and tried to see what was wrong but failed due to severe sleep deprivation.

"Are you okay? What happened?" He continued, voice hoarse like it usually was after a deep sleep

For some reason, you struggled to form words, your chest feeling as though it was being stabbed repeatedly.

And for some reason, you couldn't come up with a logical excuse and you stupidly left without a word to your lover.

*****

Week four

You couldn't ignore it anymore.

It felt like your body was starting to give up on you. You were constantly tired and out of breath and the chest pains never let up, at times, they even doubled and felt worse than the worst of your period cramps.

The biggest flashing red warning sign should've been when you fainted in the bathroom after your shower.

You came home shattered from your 24 hour shift. Just as you walked in the door, Will was leaving for his 48 hour shift. At this point, you really felt like the world was against you.

You were kinda like roommates more than romantic partners. You were barely at home together and at work, you tried to keep interactions to a minimum after the small incident that the board was elevating ridiculously.

Waking up on the bathroom rug, your body felt numb almost paralysed. It was like what movies described comas to be but your chest was still pulsating in pain.

You weren't being a really good nurse because you simply got up, drank some water and ate some food before sleeping it off.

*****

Week five

The silence was suffocating.

The two of you finally got more than two minutes together but words somehow failed you.

With droopy eyes and furrowed brows, your hands itched to grab the blue scrubs covering your chest. If it wasn't for your boyfriend sitting opposite you, you would've been hunched over the sinks in the women's room.

"What's wrong?" It was a question but with that tone, it felt more like a demand. His two words hit you hard, your eyes dragging from the table up to his big brown eyes filled with nothing but eternal love and concern. "And don't say nothing cause that's clearly bullshit."

And for some reason, you flinched.

Licking your chapped lips, you scrunched your eyes closed at the pain encasing your heart. Despite being back on your medication, the pain didn't cease.

"Y/N? Baby-"

"CODE SILVER. CODE SILVER IN THE ED."

*****

Today

For the past week, Will was hypervigilant about his work. Peter kalmik was never his biggest fan so it didn't help he was constantly making his presence known along with the more power holding board members.

You hated how he no longer fought his case and he just conformed, keeping his head buried in the sand and distanced himself from those he cared about.

It got to such a point that when Jay came in with only work intentions, Will physically forced himself to stay well away.

You were so caught up in your concern for him that you neglected your medication on the kitchen counter.

The pain today all of a sudden increased tenfold in the middle of shift. You were helping Doris turn over a treatment room, listening as she talked about her family drama that you loved to hear about when you felt the world come to an abrupt stop.

Before you knew it, breath escaped you and darkness enveloped you.

“Y/N?!” Doris shouted, going around the bed and crouching down besides your unconscious body.

As she started checking your pulse and your breathing, Connor ran in with Maggie in tow having witnessed you fall from the nurses desk.

In a flurry of rushed movements, you were placed on a bed as your friends searched for the cause of your unconscious state. Out of the blue, Maggie spoke up, reminding everyone of your heart condition.

Equipped with the new but old information, the cardiothoracic surgeon was now more than confident he was able to help you.

"Whose her emergency contact? Is it still her parents or has it been changed to Will?" Connor asked the charge nurse as they started wheeling the gurney towards the elevators. They needed to get you into surgery as soon as possible before you deteriorated.

"Good question."

"Page him anyways."

"Already on it."

*****

"I'm a horrible boyfriend."

"No you're not."

"All the signs were there and I missed them."

"We did too."

"I know Connor is one of the best but what if-"

"I'm going to stop you right there." Maggie cut him off, looking at him sternly, eerily resembling the face of a mother telling off her child. "This is no ones fault and you know that, stop punishing yourself for something no one could control."

Will opened his mouth to interject but stopped himself when Maggie held her hand up. "Yes, maybe Y/N should've taken better care of herself but as a doctor, you know that this surgery was inevitable anyways."

"It's better that she was already in the hospital and not home alone where no one would've noticed till you finished in another eight hours." Maggie continued, being more gentle as she got her point across. She was just as concerned but for everyone else's sake, she could be their pillar.

"Look at her Will." Maggie said, gently rubbing him on the back, hopefully bringing him some comfort. "She's in the best hands."

And of course Will knew that, he wouldn't say it to Connor's face but the man was a heck of a surgeon. There was no one else he would want operating on you but he was simply unnerved to no end.

He couldn't wipe off this icky feeling he had. It lurked around him like a shadow and stuck to him like a stain. He felt like a failure - he was unable to help you as both a doctor and a boyfriend - what good was he?

News spread of your collapse around the hospital and as an automatic response, the hospital board stepped metres away from Will, almost like he was sick with a deathly contagious disease.

It was so stupid that it was funny.

Will wanted to rip his hair out. How he was even standing watching your surgery was beyond him right now. He felt sick to his stomach at the sight of your chest cracked open, your heart just there for the world to see.

He never felt so useless before.

*****

Waking up was one of the most confusing scenarios you've ever been in. The last thing you remembered was being in the ED with Doris before blinking and the next thing you knew, you were waking up in recovery.

Your body felt like the heaviest gym weights were sat on you. Your mouth unbelievably dry as your eyes squinted in the dim lighting, trying to look around the room for any sign of life.

And right by your bedside, sleeping in a very awkward position was the man you considered the love of your life.

It must've been the movement of your head, you literally turning your head less than 90 degrees that woke him up because without any further prompting, Will was no longer dead to the world.

Instantly, he was alive and alert, no trace of sleep anywhere on his face as he made eye contact with you.

He felt as light as a feather to see you awake, the biggest weight being lifted off his chest from the relief that nothing went wrong despite knowing Connor made no mistake at all.

"Pulmonary valve stenosis." Was the first thing Will said, easily recognising the confusion painting your face. "Connor put in a balloon. They'll keep you for probably a week to monitor you to see if you need a valvotomy."

You hummed, letting him know that you understood everything he told you without talking. Somehow, without even looking at him, he knew and brought forth a cup with a straw in, holding it to your mouth allowing you to sip easily.

"I'm so sorry Y/N." Will said earnestly, his eyes shimmering as he intertwined your fingers with his. "I wasn't paying enough attention to you otherwise-"

"Stop." You interrupted him, voice still slightly hoarse from not using it. "Blaming yourself helps no one."

"What's done is done." You continued, squeezing his hands when he squeezed yours first. "I'm really the one to blame. If I took care of myself and did something when I first was having problems then we wouldn't be here."

Silence followed, the only sound being the constant beeping from all the machines attached to you.

"Never faint on me again, you hear me?"

"Can't promise you that babes."

"Yes you can."

"You're hilarious Will."

"No, I'm being serious Y/N."

"Don't make me laugh, where's Connor Rhodes, my favourite doctor?"

"Very funny, I think I'll buy April expensive cart coffee next time."

[aziraphales-library]

I read a Fic I really enjoyed that was for Good Omens where it was human au, enemies to lovers, both were at Anathema’s wedding. The wedding was outside and I remember that Crowley was playing with the kids at the wedding. Spinning them around, playing pirate with them. It was several chapters long. It was along the same lines as “or be nice” by charlottemadison. But that wedding was inside. (I may have a type) if you know of any along these lines. Please let me know. I shall happily dive into them.

Not sure on the exact fic, but here are some getting together at weddings fics...

Two Weddings by Lexitennant2 (T)

Aziraphale and Crowley are invited to Anathema and Newton's wedding. Which means a minor breakdown from Crowley in front of his plants, a meddling witch, and Aziraphale is finally talked into some sense so he finally decides that Crowley is NOT going too fast for him.

The Nice and Accurate wedding of Anathema Device, Witch, which went just as expected by Nenchen (G)

Wedding planner Anathema Device is the Number One. She can organize anything for a wedding, flower arrangements, catering, a marching band or an emu. The name Device is a guarantee for a picture perfect wedding - and the perfect pictures will be taken by her top wedding photographer, and best friend, Anthony J. Crowley. Both of them see weddings mostly as business, until Anathema meets Newt, Love of her life, walking natural disaster extraordinaire, and very much not a person it’s possible to have a perfect wedding with. Which is perfect since Anathema frankly never wanted one for herself. She just wants a fun party, good food, and all of her friends to attend - including Crowley. For whom this might just as well be the apocalypse because no, he is not allowed to work on her wedding. Strictly invited only as a guest, Crowley finds himself at a loss. What the hell do you do at weddings? Well, if you are Crowley, the answer is some James Bond-like action, some worrying about fly swarms and their sources, having a lot of emotions, drinking some very funny wine, putting your foot in your mouth and just maybe meeting someone to share all of that with. Oh, and there’s always cake, isn’t there?

It's Not The Journey by cosmya (T)

It had been going so well. They’d averted the apocalypse, averted their punishments, averted further investigation or attention by their respective organizations. They were left with little to do but bask in the happy ending. Therein had been the problem. Another champagne, sir?” interrupted the flight attendant. Aziraphale’s eyes snapped open. Oh, I shouldn’t, he thought. “Yes, please,” he said. “Thank you.” Anathema and Newt are getting married, and two of their wedding guests are in a bit of an awkward place. An all-inclusive resort with unlimited alcohol is precisely what they need to re-break the ice.

The Christmas Wedding Scammer by Aracloptia (T)

“And - thank you for saying yes on such short notice! I tried to plan the thing myself, but … sometimes you actually do need help, right?” “Yeah”, Crowley mumbled, grabbing his phone to write down the name of the restaurant. “Yeah, absolutely.” “That’s what everyone kept telling me; it’s always better with a wedding planner. I guess I should have listened earlier.” “Er”, Crowley said. “Did you say-“ “Anyway, I have another call to make! I have to fire the costumer, the dress we agreed on turned out horrendous. Hey, in the future that’ll be your job! But I’ll do it just this once. See you tomorrow! And please bring suggestions for the bridal wear. Bye!” “Hold o-” The famous wedding planner Antonio Cowley is retired, sworn to never plan a wedding again. Perhaps the right sum of money can persuade him? He is not to be mixed up with out-of-business Anthony J. Crowley, former florist, currently unemployed. OR: In which Crowley accidentally becomes a wedding planner.

District of (un-)Certainty by jamgrl (M)

Aziraphale is a PhD student who needs a roommate so he can continue to afford his house in the U.S. capital of Washington D.C. Luckily, the family he tutors for on the side just happened to find him one! He doesn’t think he will like him much since he is in the states to work on Mr. Dowling’s senate campaign, so he’s probably a terrible person (even if he is good looking). Crowley is pretty independent and doesn’t really have a lot of what you would call “friends”. But he doesn’t mind his new roommate. He would much rather hang out with him than his coworkers, anyways. His roommate’s best friends Anathema and Newt aren’t too bad, either. It’s nice to have some friends. Maybe he likes it in D.C. --- They are millenials! But still British and still old fashioned- just a little twist on our favorite husbands.

Something That Happens To Other People by Caedmon (E)

Anthony J. Crowley is a hotshot political reporter who's landed himself in hot water with his editor. He finds himself demoted to the society desk, where he is assigned to cover the wedding of Anathema Device and Newton Pulsifer. He'd rather chew tin foil than lower himself in such a way, but if he's going to claw his way back to the top, he's going to have to prove himself. Aziraphale Fell is the most sought-after wedding planner in all of London, hailed as the 'angel of love' due to his knack for picking couples who have the most successful marriages. He spends his working hours making other peoples' dreams come true... but his own dreams of romance died long ago. To his mind, love is something that happens to other people. Sparks fly when these two cross paths, and they find themselves instantly attracted to one another. But can Crowley prove Aziraphale’s belief about love to be wrong?

- Mod D

[lazyalani]

| Ciel Phantomhive × [F!Reader]

| Well, it burned

| written from lizzy's point of view, well kind of, still from third person but focuses on lizzy, no twins au, angst, so much angst with happy ending, swearing, it gets worse before it gets better, ciel and reader end up together, lizzy watched their love die, she watches as ciel falls inlove with reader, tried to keep it as short as possible cuz making it long would make it a full blown lizzy fic, not accurate but this is the best i can do without ruining my own writing style and ideas >_< sorry for the long wait, this fucking broke me as a hard cielizzy shipper

A request from: @imhereiguess420

| Summary: In which Lady Elizabeth gets too close to the fire. And what happens when you get too close? You get burned.

| Kuroshitsuji Masterlist

| Main Masterlist

sometimes, i wake up by the door

It was supposed to be just a mission. She were supposed to be just a mission.

Perhaps she was too naive.

Or perhaps she was too ignorant.

Or maybe both. Lizzy thinks, no, she knows.

After the events of Campania she was sure Ciel and her had become closer. They were. Until she came along.

Stupid. Stupid. This is all your fault. She tells herself. You were the one who insisted to take care of her, you were the one who agreed to let Ciel help. She scolds herself again and again. So why are you complaining now?

She can feel her tears rimming on her eyes. She can feel her mind going in a haze. She can feel her emotions rampaging, uncontrollable. She can feel her brother's pity filled stare.

When the Queen had gathered the knights of the kingdom to protect a noble lady being targeted by a country they were in tension with, Elizabeth had volunteered herself to directly take care of them as she were near her age, and let the others take care of dealing with other forces of the mission. She figured she would also be more comfortable with someone her age.

She was a kind person. But as she lays out her suggestions towards the plan for the mission, she can't help but think about someone else. She reminded her of someone. Ciel. She smiled, oh, she just had a great idea.

Who would've thought it would take things for the worst?

She remembered how she barged in to the Phantomhive Estate to ask Ciel for help.

"I'm sure you'd get along with them! She's really really smart like you, and you both speak in riddles sometimes!"

He sighs, "Do I need to?"

"No, but pleaseeee? It would really make me happy to make her comfortable and safe!" She pouts and gives him the best puppy eyes she could muster.

The Earl shakes his head with slight red cheeks and sighs again. "Alright, I'll see what I can do." He looks away, but she could still see his red cheeks. And she smiles, feeling a lot more giddy.

Who knew those were one of their last moments?

that heart you caught must be waiting for you

She crumples another paper and throws it away, picking up another and began writing again. What was she writing about again? Fuck, the ink got smudged by water. Oh, it wasn't water.

Her face scrunches with the pain she feels on her chest as she hold her forehead, trying to control her breathing. She can still feel her brother's hesitant and concerned stare from the opened door of her room.

She shifted in her seat a little. She didn't want her brother to see her like this.

So pathetic.

"[Name]! This is Ciel, my lovely fiance!" She, jolly as ever, gestures to the Earl who sighs again and lifts up his hand.

"Earl Ciel Phantomhive, it's uhh, nice to meet you..." He awkwardly says as he glances at her expecting expression.

She smiles and giggles. He might sigh a lot around her, but she knows he feels just the same as she did. She's happy to see him try to be nicer for her.

She nodded and took his hand to shake, introducing herself as well, "... the pleasure is mine."

Ciel and her gazes were both calculating, observing each other, almost wary. But Lizzy didn't mind, it was their first meeting afterall, she was sure they would get along just fine. They were alike, afterall.

Oh my, fair lady, too alike.

She wanted to shout when another paper gets smudged by her tears, crumpling it and throwing it away again.

"My lady...." She hears Paula's worried voice from beside her brother.

She ignores it and picks up another paper, her grip on the pen almost breaking it from the force.

God, she was close to breaking. But she couldn't let her brother and Paula see more of her disgraceful side. She writes and writes. She didn't even know what she was writing anymore. Those words, those phrases, every sentence had different words all over. But they all have the same meaning.

Please don't do this.

Please don't leave me. She silently begs.

even now when we're already over,

Oh, fair lady, how low had you fallen?

I don't know, I don't care! She wanted to scream. Getoutgetoutgetoutofmyhead...

Ciel. Ciel. Ciel, please.

All those wandering gazes, stolen glances, secret conversations. Reading someone from their eyes was something she was also good at. But reading her fiance's was a different story. And so was hers.

Or is my fair lady just ignorant?

i can't help myself from lookin for you

Shutupshutupshutup! She screams into her head, her nails digging in to her desk.

"My lady! You'll hurt yourself, please!"

"Ciel! Do you want to go to the new park with me? Father said it was really pretty!" She holds his hands with a happy mood.

"Ah, uhhh," he glances at her with a subtle hesitant look, "we can't leave her alone, Elizabeth. Maybe another time?" He offers instead.

Lizzy can see through that unbothered facade in his glance.

But she ignored it.

i set fire to the rain

"Brother said he could look after them this time! Can we go to the park, pleaaaase?" She pleads at him with her usual puppy gaze that would always make him red.

He sighs and nods, seemingly giving up. "Alright, then."

He wasn't flustered like he always was. She ignores all the voices in her head and smiles, taking his hand in hers and lifting them together.

"Yay! Ciel is really the best!" No reaction again.

watched it pour as i touched your face

"Sebastian, have Snake stay here." He turns to her. "Let's go, Elizabeth." He offers his hand for her to take.

She ignores how her name is back to Elizabeth.

She smiles again and takes his hand. "I'm excited!" But the bad feeling in her stomach says otherwise.

And she ignores the alarms in her head when he looks back at her before entering the carriage.

well, it burned while i cry

How could have she missed those? She ruffles her hair agressively, messing her pigtails slightly.

"Lizzy...." She hears her brother.

Oh, fair lady, you didn't miss them...

Shutup! She screams in her head again.

... you chose to ignore them.

Get the fuck out of my head!

Why?

Getoutgetoutgetout!

Why is that?

You're not real!

Why the ignorance, my fair lady?

Stop putting things to my head! She writes more aggressively, the paper is starting to tear.

"My lady, the paper is already..."

"Lizzy, that's enough..."

Are you trying to turn that paper into you?

Shut the fuck up. She ignores everyone and continues writing.

To my Ciel,

Torn?

'cause i heard it screaming out your name

Everyone but that voice.

Ofcourse you do, fair lady, afterall....

Her Ciel is really a danger magnet. A moment, they were just walking, and then another, they're suddenly solving a case.

"Murdered for revenge, then." He concludes. "Let's wrap this up---" He was cut off by her.

"It's not over yet, Earl." She said, staring at the corpse with an observant look.

"Are you saying I'm wrong?" Ciel didn't look offended nor insulted, infact, he looked.... interested and amused.

She ignored it. She worried that he might get offended with whatever she would say.

Oh, fucking stupid could she be?

She smiled to the eye, "Oh, not at all, my lord, by not over yet, I meant," when she opened her eyes, there was something to it. There was something that changed with her smile, her eyes. "there's someone else behind the scenes."

She shivered.

She felt chills on her spine. This was the kind of face her Ciel made when he perfectly solves a puzzle or wins their games.

Ciel raised a brow. "Oh, a third party?"

The look on his face made her want to vomit.

Ciel, why are you looking at them like that? Stop making that face, stop looking at them like that. Stop looking like that if it isn't for me. Stop looking at them. Stop... Just stopstopstopstop

But she ignored it.

i set fire to the rain

"Elizabeth, let's go."

"Elizabeth, what are you doing here?"

"Are you alright, Elizabeth?"

"Ah, this is Elizabeth, my... betrothed."

"Elizabeth, where is she?"

"Elizabeth...."

"Elizabeth...."

NO STOP CALLING ME THAT! IT'S LIZZY! LIZZY! WHY ARE YOU CALLING ME LIKE THAT AGAIN?!

When did it start going back to how it used to be? When did it start to fade? When did it start to fall? When did he stop loving her? When did he stat loving her?

Oh god, save my sanity..... She begged anyone above.

...I'm the only reality you have left.

and i threw us into the flames

She had tried everything. She had tried to convince him not to break their engagement, disguising it as for the sake of their family's convenience. For the sake of their reputations. For the sake of his parents. For the sake of their titles. For the sake of her sanity.

He hadn't lied to her. But he hadn't told her everything either.

He had told her he doesn't reciprocate her feelings anymore. He had told her that his desire for his goal was stronger.

He had told her every shared feelings they had were back when they were kids.

Now that, was a fucking lie. She almost smiled bitterly, she did in her head.

She had seen his tolerance of her become fondess. She had seen his frowns turn to genuine smiles. She had seen his lifeless actions turn to sincere efforts.

But then again, it had all changed when she came, didn't it?

when it fell,

Elizabeth wanted to curse her. To swear her name to every possible creature there is. She wanted to scream at her. To shout. To yell. To accuse. To beg her.

To beg them not to take away her Ciel again.

But she can't do that to her friend, can she?

She doesn't want to lose him again.

Not again, please. Not again. I just got him back. She cries.

She feels her brother begin rubbing her back. "Lizzy...."

She had done everything.

Yet why had he still sent a letter breaking off everything they had?

"Elizabeth, this is for the best."

You're cruel, Ciel.

"Lizzy, I'm sorry."

You're so fucking cruel.

something died

Something inside her snapped as she screamed and stood up, throwing everything off her desk, crying.

"Elizabeth!" Her brother exclaimed, trying to stop her.

"Milady!"

"No! Stop calling me that! Stop calling me that!" She screams again, struggling in her brother's grip.

"Lizzy! Lizzy, alright, alright, I'm sorry... I'm sorry." Her brother's voice cracked. It hurt him to see his beloved sister like this.

She cried and cried, now sitting on the floor, a hand on her forehead. Her pigtails were ruined, her face was red.

"Why? Why?!"

Edward stayed silent, sitting beside her and pulling her into his embrace and letting her vent.

"Why, brother? I had done everything. I would do anything and everything. All he needs to do is to ask. I had done everything to make him— us happy. And I would do everything all over again to make us happy. BUT WHY?!"

Edward burried her head on his shoulder, letting her cry against it. Tears were rimming his eyes, how had his sweet, jolly sister come to this? He wished he had an answer for her, but even he did not know.

He had witnessed everything his sister planned just to make her fiance smile again. He had witnessed everything she had done just to make him reciprocate her actions, her feelings.

He had witnessed how broken she was when the Phantomhive Manor burned down. He had witnessed her go back to her jolly self when Ciel had come back. He had witnessed her force herself to be optimistic despite Ciel's subtle rejections. He had witnessed her telling herself not to give up. He had witnessed her cry everynight. He had witnessed her cry herself to sleep when she's tired. And he had witnessed her come back again when she finished resting.

And no one knows how heartbroken he was when he realized his sister's rest was crying.

Everything she worked so hard for, the things she poured her whole heart and soul for, vanished in just a blink of an eye.

And now it's back to square one again. Except,

The other steps are now ashes.

'cause i knew that that was the last time

The voice in her head had faded.

Was it because she's broken her delusions now?

But the price to pay was her broken self.

"Brother, I don't know what to anymore..." She cried and cried again. But what could she do? Everything is gone now.

Everything fell into ashes.

"Please..... help me..."

He didn't want to see her burn with the remains of his cousin's old self.

Please, save my sister...

So he begs with her.

the last time

And now, she stands with everyone as they witness the becoming of the new Countess of the Phantomhive Household.

Now, she stands with so many people as she witnesses the union of the people that broke her before.

But now, she stands with her healing self, witnessing the wedding of the two people she hold dear in heart.

Now, she looks at them without breaking.

oh, oh, no

She smiles as she remembers how she reacted when she received an invitation to their wedding in France.

After the events in her room years ago, her brother took her to France as an attempt to calm her nerves.

It was hard, so hard, to not think about everything that had happened. Whenever she sees herself, or anything that remind her of herself, she remembers everything. But he had grown to love France, and had decided to stay there. It wasn't easy, but it was easier than being in London.

For several years, she had studied and had let herself heal there. She trained and trained, venting out her sadness, anger, her frustration inti the force of her sword. She let herself become someone new.

Sometimes, she thought about what she would do if she ever comes face to face with them again. Would she scream? Would she cry? Would she curse? Would she just smile?

So when she received an invitation, she didn't know what to feel.

And so it brought her comfort when she came to a realization that she didn't feel anything.

It wasn't what she really wanted. She wanted to heal and be able to feel happy for them. But it was something.

It was better than nothing.

And so she stares at them with nothing a but smile. She stares at them with a smile that has nothing.

She felt a little guilty that she couldn't feel happy for them. But she felt happy for herself.

She felt happy that she doesn't hold any bad feelings against them anymore.

She couldn't be happy for them, but she isn't mad either. And it was enough for her. Baby steps, she thinks, and smiled again.

She feels nothing as she was introduced as her maid of honor. She feels nothing even when she tells her Elizabeth was her one true friend, as she didn't have a life of an extrovert. She feels nothing when Ciel greets her. She feels nothing when both of them come to hug her. She feels nothing as she walks through to church. She feels nothing as she greets everyone with a smile that held nothing but happiness for herself.

She feels nothing as she gives her speech as the maid of honor.

And she feels happy as she only thinks of herself now. She feels happy as she lets herself feel nothing to heal. She feels happy as she only cares for herself now.

She feels happy because she gets to do what she couldn't do for herself before.

She placed ointments and medicines to her burns herself, and she wasn't going to let herself go through that painful fire anymore.

And now, she stands before everyone as Lady Knight Cordelia.

So let her feelings burn along with her old self.

let it burn

[theminecraftbee]

Grian stares at the same wall that he has been staring at for so long that he’s lost track of the seconds he’d been counting in his head. He’s not sure the seconds are exactly accurate, either, but they’re probably more accurate than the shiny gold clock Grumbot Prime had given him when he’s expressed his frustration that time kept on slipping through his fingers. After all, he thinks part of the point is that he doesn’t know how long it’s been. He hasn’t gotten hungry in just as long, or thirsty, and he’s been tired, but it’s the bored sort of tired, not the tired of lowered saturation or hearts.

The first thing he’d checked for was things to kill himself on. There hadn’t been any. No respawns for Grian. No damage, either. Just...

If he stares at the wall long enough, he can almost see through the saccharine blue walls. They’re mocking. He knows the walls he’d built the original Grumbot weren’t the most realistic things, but they’d only had but so many colors, and they’d had the ability to modify Grumbot’s programming anyway, and he’d seemed to think it was real enough. Besides, he’d been setting himself on fire. Melting his own circuits. He’d been eating himself from the inside out. Forgive Grian for wanting to come up with the only life support he could think of without overwriting his son’s personality.

...his son clearly hasn’t.

Or, well, Grumbot Prime is not his son.

Hard not to think of him that way, though. As a not-son. They don’t talk the same, but it’s painfully close. Close enough that Grian keeps on calling him Grumbot without the Prime in his head. Probably not good for him to keep doing that, though, considering.

Grian keeps on staring at the wall.

“Why am I here?” he asks again.

It takes a moment to get the piece of paper.

IT IS NOT SAFE

“Bullshit!” Grian says, startling himself at his vehemence. “I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself! I’m not going to fry my brain because I can’t do a resistance or whatever. Ren can be king if he wants. I’m over it.”

The wall remains tauntingly blue. Grian resists the urge to claw at it again. He hasn’t been able to break it. He suspects there’s obsidian or, worse, bedrock somewhere behind it. That, or it’s not real. That’s a possibility too. Grian hasn’t been getting hungry, after all, and while beacons may be able to do that on their own, there’s another answer to that one as well.

He hopes he’s awake. This would be a miserable nightmare if he were in the matrix again or something.

“You just have that, that - I said I was sorry!” Grian says. “I’m not - I’m not your father. I mean, no, that’s not what I mean. It sort of is? I mean -”

A piece of paper falls in front of him. Grian scrambles to pick it up. He sort of hates himself for how desperate he feels grabbing it.

I DO NOT GET ALONG WITH FATHER 1. I DO NOT ALWAYS GET ALONG WITH YOU. I DO NOT WANT YOU TO DIE

“Then let me out!” Grian says, desperately. “I don’t know what I did! I don’t even remember being put here! I just - tell me why I’m here.”

IT IS NOT SAFE

Grian balls up the paper and throws it at the wall. It bounces pleasantly off onto the soft, comfortable, fake fake fake grass.

“Tell me the actual reason! If you resent me, fine! It’s just - I asked for something to do and you give me sketchbooks, I ask for the time and you give me a clock, and you’re just - I want to go home, Grumbot. I wanna talk to my friends. I’m sorry, I don’t know what I did, I’m sorry.”

I WILL EXPLAIN WHEN I LET YOU OUT. I CANNOT. IT IS NOT SAFE, FATHER

“How long have I even been here?”

YOU HAVE A CLOCK

“Let me out.”

IT IS NOT SAFE

“Grumbot, I am ordering you to let me out!”

YOU ARE NOT MY FATHER

“You just said I - I mean, I’m not - I mean - agh,” Grian says, and he turns to his sketchbooks. He has a simple checklist in the front of one of them with a list of escape ideas. He’s a little short on them. He’s tried all the obvious things. His current plan involves hoping people realize he’s missing, which also makes him wish he were less of an introvert, and that ‘hermit disappears for a week to work on another project’ were not common.

Has it been a week yet?

He doesn’t know. He lost track of counting. He starts picking at his wings and then wavers on his feet and his vision briefly goes hazy and the world smells like potions and drugs and then he isn’t pulling at his hair again. Right. Of course. Silly him. He’s not allowed to hurt himself. Nervous habits aren’t allowed.

I DO NOT HATE YOU. I DO NOT WANT YOU TO BE HURT. WHEN IT IS SAFE YOU CAN LEAVE

Grian scoffs.

“If I knew why I was here in the first place, I might believe you,” he says.

I AM SORRY

Grian scoffs louder. “Oh, sure, I say that all the time too. It doesn’t mean I am.”

THAT WAS TRUE OF MY GRIAN AS WELL

Grian balls up this piece of paper too. It joins the growing pile of pieces of paper he’d like to burn.

He goes back to staring at the wall. Maybe if he stares at it long enough, he’ll be able to see his cave and his Rift and everything else on the other side. He’ll be able to see the friends who probably aren’t even looking for him yet, or, heck, even just Grumbot. Yeah, he’d settle for being able to see more than ominous sheets of paper in an ominously cheery landscape that Grian knows has to be a punishment for something, even if he can’t remember what it is. If he could just remember how Grumbot put him here. If he could just remember when Grumbot put him here. If he could just remember the chain of events that lead Grumbot - Grumbot Prime he has to remember this isn’t actually his son Grumbot Prime - the chain of events that lead to Grumbot Prime being his prison warden, he could figure out a way out.

He starts picking at his wings again. He’s drugged and disoriented and shakes himself out of it again before he can do more than pull slightly.

I WILL GIVE YOU MORE ENRICHMENT

To go with the sketchbooks and markers, down from the ceiling drop several (soft) logic puzzles and several of Grian’s old teething toys, for when his teeth are getting too sharp or he just wants to bite things (he does tend to chew on things when he’s anxious). Those are hard. Those are... hard plastic. Too large to choke himself on or something, but too soft to do anything resembling enough damage to force a respawn.

Grian is going to scream.

“Thanks,” he says instead. He intends it to be sarcastic. It isn’t. He shoves one of the chews in his mouth and tries to pretend that he’s an adult, he’s fine, and he hadn’t felt a shock of happiness at seeing even that much.

How long has he been here? He lost count. He doesn’t know. He thinks the clock is wrong.

"That being said, listen, solitary confinement is a type of torture. You know that, right? It’s -”

There’s a loud noise outside. It is the first sound from outside Grian has heard. Part of him is ecstatic. The rest of him, though - he doesn’t know how to describe that sound. It is a sound. He hears it with his ears. He knows he does. It’s loud. He knows that too. But he couldn’t tell anyone the pitch, he couldn’t tell anyone the timbre, and he couldn’t tell anyone anything other than the fact it makes his very bones feel like they’re rattling worse than any low bass has and his ears feel like they’re burning worse than any high soprano.

"What?” he says, hoarsely.

YOU ARE SAFE. YOU WILL BE SAFE

“Grumbot, you have to let me out,” Grian says, a bit more desperately. “You have to let me out. What was that? You have to let me out.”

IT IS NOT SAFE

The sound rings outside again. Grian clutches at his ears, but it doesn’t stop the vibration from traveling through his whole body. He hears something that he can recognize after that - it’s the sound of some of Grumbot’s fans getting loud enough to get past the soundproofing on this stupid box he’s been put in.

I WILL STOP TALKING NOW. I NEED TO FOCUS. I AM SORRY

“No, wait -” Grian says, although he doesn’t even know what he wants Grumbot to start saying.

I AM SORRY

“That doesn’t change anything!” Grian says.

I AM SORRY. IT IS NOT SAFE. I KNOW. I LOVE YOU

“Grumbot? Grumbot let me out! Let me out! LET ME OUT! LET ME OUT,” screams Grian, clutching that note, but no matter how long he yells himself hoarse, he gets no response, officially making it work worse than the last three times he’d tried that tactic. He only stops when the sound rings again, stealing all the air from Grian’s throat and drowning out his attempts to shout with its loudness. He covers his ears and starts to pick at his wings again. He goes dizzy again. He sits up and the fans are whirring and the sound is getting worse, but he still isn’t allowed to hurt himself, so that’s apparently completely automated to the box instead of a thing Grumbot has to do himself, that’s fun.

He can hardly move. It’s so loud. He doesn’t understand what’s happening outside of the box. He doesn’t understand why this is happening to him. He doesn’t understand what is happening anywhere, actually. He -

Abruptly, the fans cut off. The sound starts getting further away. The sound gets quiet.

It echoes, the silence.

“Grumbot?” Grian asks, because he’s pathetic and he needs someone to talk to.

No response.

“Hey Grumbot, what was that?” he asks.

No response.

“This isn’t particularly funny. Whatever is happening is gone now. You can stop focusing.”

No response.

Grian shakily turns to stare at the wall again. Grumbot normally starts responding if Grian starts doing something particularly stupid. If he stares at the wall long enough, he can probably force Grumbot to stop whatever this new punishment is. Maybe he can even finally figure out what he’s done wrong.

He doesn’t know how long he stares at the wall before he starts talking again.

“I don’t know what I did but I’m sorry. I won’t do it again. I don’t care that it’s not safe, I can’t stay here. Grumbot, let me out. Let me out. I can help. Please. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Let me out. Let me out.”

He feels his breathing start to get heavy. All at once, he starts punching at the wall, clawing at it, trying to tear it away. It’s soft and has a strange consistency and it won’t move.

“Grumbot, Grumbot stop not talking, I - look I’ll stay here, fine, just talk to me, Grumbot, please, I’m sorry, I won’t do - whatever this is - I’m sorry, I love you, I’m sorry,” Grian says. “Please, please, please, let me out, please, I have to get out, I have to get out.” His breathing gets erratic. His vision starts to get hazy. One of his hands picks at the other while he desperately claws at the wall and he’s breathing heavily and -

He goes dizzy and strangely calm and he wakes up sitting on the ground.

“Grumbot?”

He still gets no response.

This is about when Grian starts to cry for the second time. This doesn’t help either, and it doesn’t make him feel better, and he doesn’t get a note. Outside, it is still strangely silent once more. He slowly tries to un-crumble that last note Grumbot gave him to make sense of it. He still doesn’t know what he’s trying to make sense of.

He still doesn’t know why he’s here.

The walls are saccharine blue.

[nightlyrayne]

TW: Lying, Manipulation, Cheating, Gabe Hicks

I have spent the last few days debating on whether or not I should speak up about my own past relationship and experience the TTRPG Gabe Hicks otherwise known by his handle as GabeJamesGames. I've decided to do so, in hopes that I may reach anyone that dated him and believed the were exclusive be given the same chance to know the truth as I have been given.

I'm going to cut this as short as I possibly can, mostly because everything is still very much scrambled in my head and trying to go through our past conversations has already been incredibly painful and difficult. I'm also sorry if this is a bit of a mess, or doesn't make sense anywhere. I tried to go back through our messages to be as accurate as possible, as I know I have a poor memory and an even worse sense of time.

Gabe and I started talking around late July of 2020 after I made a TikTok duetting him in his Matt from Dream Daddy cosplay. Things quickly become very flirtatious and suggestive between us. It did not take very long after that, somewhere between August and September we decided to be exclusive without labeling. I had firmly believed us to only be talking romantically and sexually with each other and expressed interest in becoming "officially" boyfriend and girlfriend when we met each other in person. Gabe agreed to this. Expressing he only had an interest in me and was more than happy to be exclusive.

In mid October I flew from Arizona back to my home state of Pennsylvania to meet him in person. He rented an Airbnb, though I did visit his home to meet his mom, one of his sisters, and his dog Leo. At one point during my stay, I was present for a live stream by his side as we carved pumpkins. I received no introduction when the stream began. Not my name, who I was, or what I was to him. I was simply there. And as a shy person who also has social anxiety, I said nothing because I was too nervous and didn't want to make things awkward. Though it felt awkward nonetheless. And immediately after the stream ended, he himself brought up the fact that he forgot to mention me. In the moment my only thought was "Well, at least he realized". And let it drop because I didn't want to have a fight.

Going home was extremely rough for me. I am the type of person that when I fall, I fall hard. I become very attached. And leaving was heartbreaking. The only thing that has helped was that he'd given me one of his shirts and had spoken about the possibility of moving in together down the road.

After that, things remained steady for a few more months. Though the issue of him wanting to remain completely private bothered me greatly. I brought up the fact multiple times, already apologizing while bringing it up because I felt like I was being too needy. In a way, I suppose I was gaslight myself, which made it all the easier for him. Especially when all I had ever asked was for him to put he was in a relationship on his social medias to help ease my anxiety. I expressed that my confidence in relationships came from having a partner who at least expressed that they were in a relationship. I didn't ask for my name nor my social media to be given. Though a part of me had definitely wanted that has well. I asked him for a compromise of just having "Taken" or "In a relationship" on his social medias. But every time I brought it up, he would claim he was already compromising by letting me meet his family and having his friends know about me. (Though whether his friends actually knew about me is unknown, as I don't remember having met or spoken to anyone of them.) At one point he even told me he had a stalker in the Netherlands and was worried about possibly upsetting her and having her come after him or I.

Things got harder after he got his new apartment February. Messages got less and less. By March hadn't received any 'I loves you's or 'I miss you's since January. I was getting more anxious about his growing number of followers and flirtatious behavior online, so I was being up being slightly public more and more. Around late May, early June, I could tell he just was no longer interested. He wasn't pointing in any effort. And while I had desperately wanted to make it work, I could tell he did not want to make it work. So I suggested stepping down from being romantic to just being friends. We never spoke after that, but we remained mutuals on TikTok and I would occasionally see him liking me stuff. Which, unfortunately, gave me more hope that I still want something to him than I would have liked.

I believed he had truly cared about me at some point during our relationship. But on Wednesday, my friend sent me a reddit post about him. I spent the whole day going through everything I could remember and wondering if he had been cheating on me as well. I posted my timeline of dating him on the Reddit post and was unfortunately informed that my timeline over lapped with TWO other people. One of them being the person he had claimed to me was a stalker.

I tell my story, though I was clueless until now, in hopes that anyone else who was hurt knowingly or unknowingly will find my story. That if they didn't know what kind of person Gabe was, they do now. And if they had already found out and haven't been in contact with any of his other exes, please know you are not alone. Please, please, please feel free to message me. And I am so sorry for the pain he has caused you, myself, and who knows how many others.