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thebiggerbear · 18 hours

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"You're safe now. I'm here." - Russell Shaw Prompt Response Part 1

Summary: You've been taken hostage and Russell is part of the unit sent in to retrieve you.

Pairing: Russell Shaw x Female!Reader

A/N: This is a prompt from @sydnee-kom-spacekru that I had to turn into a two-parter because it got way too long for just one posting. I've been working on this since May 19th when I decided to add Russell to the multi-character prompt response project I'm currently working on.

For this story, I chose Colombia as the country featured in here because I remember when we were growing up, we would ask our parents why we couldn't visit our cousins from there, and we were told it was too dangerous. As we grew older, we obviously found out why. That's the only reason I chose it for that part of the story. Obviously, I'm not making any statements, political or otherwise, about Colombia or any past/present situation happening there.

A little bit of a disclaimer: I do not work in the medical field so I apologize for any inconsistencies, exaggerations, or complete fallacies. I did my best to research but ultimately, I'm not trained in that industry. I also am not in the military, political, or governmental fields. I also am not the CEO of a major corporation. I utilized those parts of the story strictly for fictional purposes. So I apologize in advance again if I get anything incorrect for those fields.

All unbeta'd.

Part 2 (coming very soon)

WARNINGS: graphic violence; attempted sexual assault; trauma; graphic blood/injury; gun violence/gunfire; mentions of dead bodies; death; mentions of execution; kidnapping/hostage situation; PTSD; angst

Word Count: 11k+

Please do not do any of the above. Thank you for your understanding.

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

“You’re safe now, I’m here.”

Soldier Boy version | SDV Leah version

Taglist: @avada-kedavra-bitch-187; @rieleatiel

Jensen Taglist: @samanddeaninatrenchcoat; @deansbbyx

You slowly glanced around the room you were being held in. You winced when the pain in your head started up again from the movement. You knew you had some cuts on your face, your lip, and one near your hairline. One of the people who had taken you and your co-workers hostage had shouted at you in Spanish and worked you over a little. You understood most of what he had screamed but you had no answers for him.

You and your team had come down to visit the Bogota office upon the insistence of your father. The company his grandfather had started decades prior had expanded to become one of the top corporations in the United States, eventually branching out internationally. Growing up, you hadn’t wanted for anything. As you got older and entered high school, your father made it clear to you, being his only child, that he wanted you to follow in his footsteps and take over the family business one day. It wasn’t exactly what you’d dreamed of but it had been made known from the outset that whatever you might want would never matter in the scheme of things. Not when it came to the importance of legacy and carrying on the family name and the company’s brand, all while working closely with the Board. So, you had pursued your business degree in college at an Ivy League school, even going so far as to achieve your MBA and make your father proud.

You were quickly welcomed into the company and you put your nose to the grindstone, worked hard, and began to climb the corporate ladder. A lot of people knew that had to do with your last name but they also saw you working the same long hours as them, working just as much, and sacrificing any semblance of a personal life you could have had. You didn’t even have plants in your lavish city apartment because you were practically never there to water them. Weekends were a concept that ceased to exist the moment you left the university. If your co-workers worked 60-hour work weeks, you worked 80. If they worked through holidays like Memorial Day and July 4th, you worked those days, too, in addition to Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Year’s. So you earned some respect, some envy, and some resentment — a healthy mix of it all as you raced to the top at your father’s constant prodding.

Only a year ago, you’d moved to Manhattan to run the New York office, a promotion that had your father beaming with pride. It was a bit of a transition, as any transition would be, but ultimately, you got to know your team, your department heads, and you’d settled in as best you could. You never truly relaxed into your role but you let your employees know up front that you were there to make things easier, not more difficult. You were interested in flooding the figurative harbor so everyone’s boats would rise, not just yours or the Board’s. Your father had not appreciated that little introductory speech you had made but you couldn’t find it in yourself to regret it. You had meant every word and you set out every single day to not only prove yourself but to also make that vision come true.

Which was partially what had brought you to the Bogota office. While you were responsible for New York, your father had made the valid point that you should travel to the international offices of Bogota, London, and Beijing. You should show your face and introduce yourself in person, not just on Zoom. You had been hesitant, not because you didn’t want to visit the sites and meet the crews, but because you still didn’t feel confident that you could afford to be away from your home office for that long (it would be about a two and a half week trip). Not because you didn’t trust your team to run things without you but because you had several projects in the works that required your constant participation, feedback, approval, and sometimes guidance. It felt strange to put it all at risk by choosing the most inopportune moment for you to go shake hands on the international stage and take tours of the other facilities. You didn’t want to leave your team in a lurch at a dire time such as this one. You had tried to explain all of this to your father when he grew irritated at your resistance.

“Stop with the excuses. You’re going and that’s final,” he had snapped at you before leaving your office. And that had been that.

The next morning, you and a few selected co-workers (handpicked by your father) were on a flight to Bogota, the first stop on your international tour. Thankfully, Colombia was only one hour behind New York so you’d be able to check in with your office as soon as you landed.

Things were going well with your visit, right up until the moment you and your team were leaving the building to head back to the hotel for a late lunch when you were ambushed. A black hood had been thrown over your head, you’d felt pain as something hit you from the side, and the next thing you knew, you woke up in a vehicle that you could feel and hear but not see. You had no idea what happened until you were instructed in Spanish to shut up, stay quiet and not struggle, and you wouldn’t get hurt. You knew you were in trouble when you came to but now you knew without a doubt as you listened to the conversation between the men surrounding you, you had been taken hostage.

You had no idea where they had brought you but you’d been there for what felt like a month though you couldn’t be sure. You had been held in the same room, only able to use the bathroom which they escorted you to. You were in some compound and any time you’d tried to sneak a peek out of an open window during your bathroom treks, you either got yelled at and hit or you could only make out a thick cover of trees. You and your group had been terrified every single day of your captivity that they would kill you all, or worse. You had three men in your group and four women including you. One of the kidnappers had already tried to take advantage of that fact and had thrown Meredith from Finance onto the floor, unbuckling his pants. You had begged in Spanish for her to be left alone while Pat and Suzanne had cried and screamed. Tim, Jerry, and Rob had all been taken to the bathroom beforehand (something that hadn’t happened before, they usually took the guys one at a time) so it had been just you four in the room. When the man didn’t show any signs of stopping and Meredith tearfully begged him from the floor to let her be, something switched off in your brain and you flew at him. You attempted to hit him anywhere you could but he knocked you down flat in seconds. He backhanded you a couple of times, making the women in the background scream louder, and he then decided you were going to be the one he was going to assault instead. He ripped your shirt and you tried to fight him off but he was too strong. Thankfully, another kidnapper heard all of the commotion and came running, rushing into the room and stopping the man, yelling at him that none of you were to be touched, that was part of the deal. Your would-be assailant yelled back at the man who had saved you and then got to his feet, spitting on you, as he stormed out of the room, followed by your unintentional savior.

You attempted to cover yourself with the shreds of your shirt but it was useless. You now only had a bra and little bits of cloth left from how violently he had torn the fabric. You were shaking but somehow you were able to crawl your way over to Meredith to check on her. Sobbing, she held onto you and before you knew it, Pat and Suzanne had rushed over, throwing their arms around you both, still crying themselves but also trying to speak reassurances to you both. Your body shook in their embrace as it finally hit you how close you had come to being assaulted. If that other man hadn’t interrupted when he did… You shuddered at the thought. It wasn’t long after that when Tim, Jerry, and Rob were returned to the room, their hoods removed, and one glance in your direction let them know immediately what had happened. Rob had actually removed his shirt and offered it to you, apologizing for the smell. You appreciated his selfless gesture but you were thankful when Tim instead offered up the windbreaker pullover he had been wearing the day you had been taken. You took the latter, thanking them both for their generosity and thoughtfulness. Tim at least still had his t-shirt.

Then, a couple of days later, you had been dragged from the room, thrust into a chair, and tied up. The questioning began, about the money from your company among other things, and you were worked over when they didn’t get the answers they wanted. You hadn’t noticed a man holding a smartphone while sitting in the corner, taking in every second of the torture you endured, until your interrogation ended. You had been afraid but seeing that phone…you were absolutely terrified. Were they going to kill you on video, sending it off to media outlets to share globally for your father to see? Or would they use social media?

They didn’t end up killing you, though. Instead, they brought you to a room with a single bed that you had never seen before. You did not like the fact that you had been separated from your group. You began to hyperventilate at the realization that they were isolating you for a purpose, thinking you would be attacked again, especially when you heard a loud gunshot reverberate from outside followed by yelling that you couldn’t quite make out. But instead of anyone coming to hurt you, they sent in a doctor to tend to your wounds. Once he had, you curled up into a ball and hugged your knees to your chest, waiting for the worst to happen, intent on fighting tooth and nail when the time came. But a few days later or however long it had been, they brought you back into the interrogation room again.

You expected the blows this time though they still hurt horribly. They began to cut you on your arms, near your neck, your shoulders, your torso…they never cut your face, though. While you were grateful for that small mercy, they still beat the hell out of you, the worst they ever had. While your face may have been spared the cutting, it was not spared the hits. You had even taken a couple of hard blows to the head that left you reeling. You didn’t even remember if you had screamed, cried, or begged for them to stop. Instead, you remembered some random saying in some movie you had seen stating that pain was the way you knew you were still alive. You held onto that as they continued to inflict as much damage as they could without actually killing you or making it impossible for you to speak. They had even unzipped Tim’s pullover at the beginning of the torture, leaving you in your bra, and besides the cuts they had also landed punches to your already severely bruised stomach and sides. They had even stomped on your bare feet, making you cry out as some of your toes broke from the force. They had even taken a bat to your right knee. That time you screamed the loudest you ever had in your life, sobbing so hard you didn’t think you’d ever be able to stop. The pain was immense, something you hadn’t felt before, and tears poured down your face, mixing with the blood dripping from a busted lip and most likely broken nose. When they stopped to take a break, it didn’t surprise you in the least that the same man with the phone from last time was there in the same corner. It did surprise you, though, that they didn’t leave. While you figured they were just ramping up to go for a second round, something told you that you may not come out alive from this particular interrogation. You could only hope the others you had been brought here with somehow did. A small part of you wondered if the reason they were going harder on you this time, possibly about to kill you on video, is because your company didn’t pay the sum demanded in the last one. You knew your father must have done everything he could to secure your release, even if the Board for some reason hadn’t. You hadn’t prayed since you were a girl, right before your mother died, but you sent a silent one up anyway to anyone who might be listening that your father would never see this footage. It would destroy him if he did. You didn’t expect much, though. Your mom had still passed away from a terminal illness, so you were pretty sure your father wouldn’t be spared seeing your last moments like this.

But instead of starting back up again as you anticipated, the men ended up stepping outside of the room though they left the phone behind, on some sort of stand, still pointing in your direction.

So now here you were, your body exhausted yet radiating nothing but pain. You slowly swung your head around in a daze, blinking against the bright light they had turned on before leaving. You waited for them to come back, to finally do their worst and possibly end your life. You were terrified but you also knew how badly injured you were, that there was nothing you could do. Even if you could somehow get loose, how would you manage to escape? Even if you got outside, this compound was heavily patrolled by armed guards. And even if by some miracle you could get past them without being seen or an alarm being sounded when your absence was discovered, you had no idea where you were. You were in the jungle for Christ’s sake, from the brief glimpses you’d managed to catch on your bathroom runs. You had no idea where to go from here. Still, though, you heard that small voice inside your head, telling you to fight, not to give in or give up. You had to work hard, be the best, and prove yourself. Go, go, go. The voice sounded strangely like your father’s.

As you waited for your captors to come back, you glanced around the room to see if there was anything that could help you. You attempted to move your arms but gasped in pain when you did. You didn’t even try anything with your right leg. You knew your kneecap was broken; it had to be. You chanced moving your left leg, though, but it didn’t budge. You were stuck to this chair.

Suddenly, you heard the last thing you expected. Gunfire.

Not that gunfire was all that unusual around here. You had heard some happen during your captivity but it was short and never answered. You and your co-workers had no idea what went on in the rest of the compound but after hearing those rounds being fired every so often, you didn’t really want to know.

But these were extended rapid bursts of gunfire and someone was definitely shooting back. Not to mention all of the furious yelling you could hear down the hall. You idly wondered if one of your people got free and they were making a break for it. If it was, you hoped they got free and were able to go for help.

You knew you should be scared as the gunshots got closer to you, when you heard more yells and some thuds right outside your door, but you simply resigned yourself to your fate. Especially when one of the kidnappers burst into the room and held a gun to your head, yelling in Spanish at an unseen person to stay back or he would kill you. Your body began to shake uncontrollably once more, thinking this was it. You knew it; you were going to die.

Two men swept into the room, dressed in tactical-looking gear and donning black face masks with holes only for eyes and mouths, assault rifles pointed in your captor’s direction. The man on your right told him to let you go in Spanish or he would be dead before he could squeeze a round off.

The man on your left briefly glanced at you, his gaze an assessing one, before focusing back onto his target. Your captor screamed at them and pushed the gun into your temple, making you shake harder and take shallow breaths.

“You got him?” The man on the left asked, surprising you when you heard him speak English. He sounded…American.

“I got him,” the man on the right answered. Another American.

The kidnapper must have understood them because he gripped your head and pulled it back, pushing his gun now into the side of your face, making you scream out in pain. You heard a gunshot and suddenly the barrel against your cheek was gone as was the pressure around your head. A loud thud sounded as your captor’s body fell to the ground behind you and you moved your head to a position that didn’t hurt so much.

The two men were suddenly there, the one on the left laying a hand on your shoulder. “Please…don’t hurt me,” you begged in a raspy whisper. You followed it up with the same plea in Spanish, still not sure who you were exactly dealing with as your head swam.

“Hey,” the left soldier spoke softly. “Look at me.”

You did the best you could. It shocked you to see green eyes staring back at you with something that looked like kindness. Kindness…you hadn’t seen that in what felt like forever. Considering you’d only seen hatred and disgust from everyone around you since this whole ordeal started, this was something new and you held onto it with all of your might.

“We’re here to get you out. Just hold on.” He pulled out a switchblade and you immediately gasped and began to shake again. “It’s okay, I’m not going to hurt you. I’m just cutting the ropes,” he explained gently as he did it. “See?” You carefully moved your head to gaze down, seeing that he was indeed doing as he said.

Once you were free, you began to slide off of the chair, unable to sit up right due to your head still swimming. The movement caused you to cry out in pain from your injured knee being jostled when he caught you and lifted your arm around his shoulders to gently help you back into your original seated position. Your body still shaking, your brain told you that he was telling you the truth and he had just proved it, but you were still terrified and unsure of what to believe — no matter how kind his eyes were. “Shh, you’re safe now. I’m here and I’m going to get you out. I’m guessing they did a number on your legs?” He frowned down at your bloody feet.

“My knee,” you quietly sobbed, the pain still radiating throughout your right leg. “They—they broke it.”

“Shit,” he muttered, studying the leg you had glanced at.

In the background, you noticed the other man grab the smartphone and slip it into his pocket before heading back over in your direction. “What are we doing, man? Grab her and let’s go. Clock’s ticking.”

The man crouched in front of you looked up at the other one. “She can’t walk.” He inclined his head in the direction of your knee. “We’re going to have to carry her out.”

“Fucking hell,” the other one hissed. “Maybe we can get in touch with the chopper and get an evac.”

The man in front of you shook his head. “No, this is supposed to be a quick in and out. We have to get to the extraction point. They’re not coming for us.” So maybe these two were soldiers? They sounded like they might be military. Had your father somehow managed to get the government to send the US military in to rescue you?

“But, there’s no way we can—”

“No time for this, man. We’ve got to move now before reinforcements arrive.” Your rescuer turned back to you. “Alright, listen, I’m not going to lie to you, this is going to hurt like hell. I’m going to try my best to take it easy on you but we have to get you out of here now.”

You shook your head, causing tears to roll down your face. You wouldn’t admit it but you were as scared of the pain as you were to go out into the chaos you still heard happening outside of the room you were in.

He laid his hand on your shoulder again and locked gazes with you. “We have to do this. I told you before. I’m here to get you out and that means I’m not leaving without you.” He very gently rubbed at your shoulder in reassurance. “So, just try to relax and I’ll—” He carefully tried to slip his free hand underneath your legs and gingerly lift them but the movement caused you to scream in pain.

“Okay, okay,” your soldier soothed and backed off.

The other soldier was shaking his head. “We are so fucked.”

“Hey, we’re not.” Your guy turned to give him a sharp look. “Just give me a second with her.”

The other one let out an aggravated sigh and impatiently pointed to his watch before holding his rifle up and leaving the room.

Your soldier glanced back at you. “Okay. Time for some real talk. We’ve got about seventeen minutes to get to the extraction point which is out of this place and up the hill on the north side. Which would be, not exactly a cakewalk because it would still be tough, but if you were able to use your legs and we were running, we’d probably make it there in the next fifteen despite any resistance we might encounter. But, this is—”

“Going to slow you down,” you choked out. “I’m not going to make it.” More tears rolled down your cheeks, stinging when they came into contact with your injuries. If you had to be left behind, you knew you would die. No question about it.

“Hey,” he spoke softer than he had a moment ago. “I told you I’m not leaving here without you and I meant it. So don’t go thinking anything like that.” His eyes narrowed slightly as your head became too heavy to try to hold up. His hand was suddenly behind your neck, helping you, as he visually inspected one of the wounds at your hairline. “Dammit,” you heard him mutter. “Okay, I’m getting you out of here.”

He bent down to scoop you up but you grabbed onto his uniform, gripping a bit of the fabric in your fingers though it hurt to do so. He turned to look at you and you shook your head, whimpering. “Please,” you begged.

He reached up with a gloved hand and gently wiped under your eyes with his thumb. “I’m sorry but I have to. If I don’t…” He didn’t finish that sentence but he didn’t need to; the concern you saw in his green gaze said more than enough, and confirmed what he had already told you. “I know the pain is going to be a bitch and a half, but you’ve got to push through as best you can. I’ll carry you and get you to that chopper, I promise, but I need you to hold on. If you have to cry, scream, hell, even bite down on me, you do whatever you’ve got to do. But we’re doing this and we’re doing it now. You ready?”

“N-No.” Your voice wobbled a little bit but you heard him. You were going to try your best but you were still scared of the impending pain. “I’ll try.”

“Atta girl.” He gently positioned you as close to him as possible, zipping up the pullover that your captors had left open, and then carefully placed his free arm under your legs again. You got ready for the pain and whimpered again when he got ready to lift you. “I promise, after this, we’ll get that knee looked at, and that head injury, as soon as we get you someplace safe. Hey, look at me.” You struggled to meet his eyes but when you did, you saw the kindness from earlier staring back at you. “You’ve got this. You’ve made it this far and you’re going to make it all the way. I’m going to make sure you do.”

“Okay,” you whispered, afraid to speak any louder when the threat of the impending pain. Almost as if you spoke a half a decibel higher, you might make it hurt worse than it already was going to. It didn’t make sense but you weren’t exactly thinking straight right then.

You held onto the outer edge of his vest, wincing at the flare up of pain in your hand, as ready as you could possibly be in that moment.

He gave you another second, a brief respite from what was to come, and then a nod. “Alright, here we go.”

The man slowly lifted you and it hurt, sure, but what really hurt was when gravity did its work when he carefully got to his feet. You couldn’t help but cry out. You immediately stuck your thumb knuckle into your mouth and bit down, hoping this would all be over very soon.

The other soldier appeared in the doorway, having heard your cries. Your soldier took a few steps towards him, forcing you to bite harder into your skin and more tears to roll down your cheeks. “Let’s get moving. Call the bird and let them know we’re on our way.” The man nodded and turned, speaking to someone to let them know you were about to leave the compound and would need backup on the way.

When he turned around and gave you both a nod, your soldier held you a little closer to him. “You take point and lead us out. We’re good.” He then turned a reassuring smile on you. “Aren’t we?”

You wanted to answer him but you couldn’t. He hadn’t even started really moving yet and already the pain was agonizing. Instead, you carefully laid your head on his shoulder, feeling pure exhaustion wash over you that left an even foggier trace behind in your mind.

“Let’s do this.” Your soldier looked back towards the door and began to follow his fellow soldier out of the room. You gasped from the pain, bit into your flesh harder, and ignored the tears spilling onto your face. You weren’t going to be able to hold back the pained cries for long. You had no idea how you weren’t screaming at this point.

As you all turned down a hallway, you couldn’t help but think of the others and that provided a momentary distraction. “What about—my people?” You asked through gritted teeth.

“Already extracted,” he whispered. “Now it’s your turn, Y/N.”

You were still fighting your way through a misty fog of pain and sluggishness but that caught your attention. You released your thumb and stuttered out, “You know my name.”

“Of course I know your name. We came here for you.” He shot you a wink and then proceeded to carefully make his way down the stairs after the way forward was cleared.

You idly wondered about that as you held onto him, noting several dead bodies in your peripherals but refusing to look straight at them. You could hear him huffing and puffing next to you and you felt badly that he had to carry you because you were unable to walk. A couple of times, he had to stop and hunker down with you while the other soldier engaged the remaining kidnappers you came across. The third time, it was a struggle for you but you whispered, “Slowing you down. Not —gonna make it.”

“Shhh, don’t worry about that. I’ve got you,” he murmured back. And sure enough, once it was clear again, you were on the move. Before long, you had met up with more soldiers (the backup that must have been called for) and one of them offered to take you. You involuntarily tightened your grip on your rescuer’s vest and he shook his head. “Thanks, but I’m good.”

Eventually, you made your way out onto the terrain and you could no longer hold back your pained cries. “Almost there,” he promised. After what felt like prolonged agony, you finally reached an area where a helicopter was indeed waiting. The sight of it made something that felt like relief loosen inside your chest. You were really going to make it out of here alive. Your soldier went to hand you off to another inside when your fingers tightened reflexively around him again. “It’s just for a second to let me get in,” he reassured you.

You nodded, hoping it wouldn’t hurt as bad as that run had, and let him go. Once you were all boarded onto the helicopter, you were moved around again until you were back in your soldier’s embrace, holding tightly onto him as the aircraft lifted into the air and headed away from the compound where more gunfire erupted.

You tried to ask him something but he couldn’t hear you so he ducked his head near yours. “Where are my people?” You asked as loudly as you could, taking every little bit of strength you had left. You were still under the fog, but you still noticed your co-workers weren’t in the helicopter with you.

He turned and placed his lips near your ear. “They’re in another chopper!” You had all made it safely out. Thank God.

You nodded and laid your head against his shoulder, completely spent and feeling the throbbing of pain in your body intensify, making you acutely aware of all the rest of your injuries. The pain radiated from your knee outwardly and now you could feel it in your torso, your arms, your head… Your eyes began to close of their own accord when he shook your shoulder a little. “I’m sure all you want to do right now is sleep but I need you to stay awake. At least until the docs get a good look at you!”

You blinked dazedly up at him. “I don’t think I can,” you mumbled, not even sure he heard you. The tide of pain was washing you under.

He then did the last thing you expected. He lifted his mask and you finally saw the man underneath, the owner of those green eyes that you had been holding onto during this entire ordeal.

“Man, what the hell are you doing?” You heard yelled nearby, but your soldier kept his eyes on yours.

“I need you to stay awake, Y/N! You think you can do that for me?”

You took in his features, your fingers carefully lifting up to touch the thick beard he sported, noting the dirt and grime smears all over his face, but his eyes were what captivated you. Now without the mask in the way, you were free to get lost in those green orbs as deeply as you dared. Too bad you couldn’t seem to stay conscious.

He shook you again. “Y/N! Hey! Stay awake!”

“Sorry,” you slurred before everything went black.

The next time you jerked into consciousness, screaming out in pain, the helicopter had just landed and your soldier, once again wearing his face mask, was yelling instructions to the men around him. You couldn’t hear exactly what they were, the pain was that intense. You were lifted out into another soldier’s arms and looking past him, you saw a second helicopter not that far away. You watched as your co-workers were ushered off of it alongside other masked soldiers but something didn’t seem right. You weren’t sure what it was but something was off to you.

You were placed into someone else’s arms and you saw the eyes of your rescuer once again, softening when he saw that you were crying.

“Something’s—wrong.”

“Stay with me this time, Y/N,” he urged as he hurried you away from the helicopter. “Help is just a few feet away! Only a little bit more to go.”

You tried to stay with him, you really did, but the tide of pain started to blanket you once again. Alongside it, the feeling of something’s wrong surged throughout your body before the darkness overtook you once more.

The next time you came to, you were on a gurney and bright lights were shining down on you. Doctors and nurses surrounded you, talking quickly in Spanish and calling out a few instructions. Your body began to involuntarily tremble again. Had your rescue been a dream? Had your kidnappers brought you to another part of the compound where they had an assembled medical team waiting to somehow keep you alive after they had unleashed such brutality on you? Or were you just dead?

You felt a warm hand in yours, a thumb stroking the top of yours reassuringly. You gingerly turned your head to find your soldier, still wearing his mask, standing right there, smiling down at you. “There you are. You had me worried for a second.”

Before you could ask him if he was real, if any of it was, a nurse started yelling at him, trying to get him to leave. He replied in perfect Spanish, telling her in a very resolved tone that he wasn’t leaving until he knew you were going to be okay. She let out a frustrated huff and shot him a glare before turning away to speak to the doctors. They insisted he had to go and once again, without your permission, you tightened your grip on him, not wanting him to go anywhere.

“No,” you rasped out. “Please let him stay. Please.” He was the only thing anchoring you in this moment. You got the distinct feeling that if you lost him, you’d be lost entirely, never to resurface. He was safety for you, an end to the horrific ordeal you had been through, and you didn’t want him to leave you.

A doctor leaned over you, speaking kindly in English. “It’s okay,” he spoke with a heavy accent. “We are going to make you better but he can’t be in here.”

You shook your head and grabbed at your soldier’s forearm with your free hand though it hurt like hell.

“Doc, can you give us a second?”

The doctor gave him a look but did as he asked, moving back over to his team.

The man next to you pulled a chair from out of nowhere and positioned it next to you. He took a seat and only when he had did you release him, wincing as you dropped your right hand next to you.

He smiled reassuringly down at you. “You’re going to be okay. They’re going to fix you right up. You’ve been through a lot but you’re going to be alright.”

You knew what he was doing; he was calming you down and saying goodbye. For some reason, that made you tear up. Even though you didn’t know this man, he had been your harbor of safety in a chaotic whirlwind, a beacon of hope to cling to in a truly terrifying situation you had found yourself in. When a tear rolled down your cheek, he wiped it away with his thumb. “Will you be here when I wake up?” You choked out.

“I’ll be here until you fall asleep.”

That set loose more tears and he made sure to catch every single one. In the meantime, the nurse came over and injected something into your IV. When you started feeling drowsy a minute or so later, it wasn’t hard to guess what was happening. “Will I ever see you again?” You frantically intertwined your fingers with his as you struggled to stay awake.

He leaned closer, smiling in the same reassurance his green eyes were trying to convey. “I’ll find you,” he murmured, gently squeezing your hand. That made even more tears fall. It surprised you when he moved in to whisper to you, “Get some rest, sweetheart. You’ve more than earned it.”

You wanted to stay awake; you fought it, not wanting to lose sight of those green eyes fixated on you, knowing they would be gone once you closed yours. But you lost that battle as a sea of sleepiness dragged you down with it. You held onto his words as your eyes finally shut from the weight of the drug and you could no longer see him or feel his hand in yours. “I’ll find you” reverberated through your mind as you sank deeper and deeper into oblivion, falling at a rapid rate from deep green into solid black, until you were completely engulfed by it and you were gone.

You briefly closed your eyes as you felt a cool breeze gently make its way past you. You watched as two orange leaves pirouetted in the air, spinning round and round, until they landed several feet away. Silent ripples danced along the water’s surface in front of you and you could hear the sounds of people milling about near you, talking, surrounded by a symphony of nature sounds mixed in with the faroff noises of city life. You couldn’t help but smile when you heard small children giggling as they played on the grass nearby with their parents watching over them. You watched as a small group of teenage girls walked past you, laughing as they reminisced over something that had happened the past weekend. You saw an old man on another bench further down the path, an open book in his hands.

These were the small peaceful moments that you had come to appreciate since you rejoined society a couple of months ago. These were the ones you held onto when the memories of the terror and pain all became a bit too much, that reminded you that you were back home, safe.

You watched as two moms in workout gear jogged by with their strollers. A man and woman coming from the opposite direction made their way around the two women and continued their trek, drinking from to-go cups and dressed in business casual attire. Sure enough, you could hear them discussing work-related topics as they passed you by. You smiled sadly as you watched them get further and further from your sight.

That had been you not that long ago, where you didn’t have a care in the world other than pushing out new product lines and being in charge of one of the main offices of the family business. The pressure had been near soul-crushing most of the time but you had adapted for the most part and rolled with it. You worked hard, you worked long hours, and you were alright with that. You took the stress of hectic deadlines and constantly putting out fires and you rolled with the punches. It became part of your make-up and it could only help fuel you even faster towards your goal — your father’s goal. Now, after what you’d been through, your outlook on it all had changed. What had felt like life and death matters in the corporate world before no longer felt as dire as it used to. You’d been in a literal life and death situation and lived to tell the tale; whatever came your way business wise you knew you could more than handle. There was something about being tortured and having a gun held to your head, convinced you were about to die, that just put things into perspective for you.

And though you survived, you didn’t actually get to tell your tale. The minute you were reunited with your father, while he had been grateful you were alive and kissed your forehead, it was made clear to you that you and the co-workers who had been in captivity with you were to sign NDA’s. That had completely floored you. That was the Board’s main concern? That the public might find out that some of its employees had been kidnapped, terrorized, and tortured? How were they going to explain your month long absence from the job, from your lives? You knew Meredith had a fiance, Pat was a grandmother, Rob had just gotten married weeks before this happened, and Tim had a wife and kids waiting back at home for him. Suzanne was dating someone in HR and you could have sworn you heard Jerry mention at some point that he had a dog to get back to, hoping his neighbor had either checked in on it or at least notified someone to do so. How in the world did the Board plan to explain away any of it?

Your father had let out an aggravated sigh as you fired question after question at him. Who had taken you? What had they wanted besides money? Why hadn’t the Board met their demands? Why had it taken them so long to get the government involved?

“They weren’t involved.”

Your eyes had widened in shock. “What? How?”

Your father had taken your hand in between his and stared into your eyes with meaning. “I’m only going to mention this once and then we’re never going to speak of it again. We hired someone to send in a team to get you out of there.”

Your brows furrowed in confusion. “Hired someone? As in mercenaries?”

“Private contractors for security. They handle this type of situation quite frequently but they keep it all very hush hush. So that is why the Board is insisting on NDA’s for all of you. It’s not only to protect the brand but also to protect all of you.”

“Protect this organization they hired, you mean.”

Your father nodded, not looking troubled by your accusation in the least.

“I don’t understand, Dad. You have contacts in Defense. Why wouldn’t you call them?”

“We did. They recommended these people and said they were our best option. If we hired them, they could get in quickly and get you out. If we didn’t and chose to go through more official channels, it might prolong the process and that might be time that you didn’t have.”

You could see the wisdom in that advice he’d been given. They had been right; had they gotten there even just an hour later than they did, you might not be alive right now. “But a month, Dad? Why did they wait so long?”

Your father tightened his grip on your hand and you knew you weren’t going to like what he had to say next. “At first, we didn’t know who had taken you. When they made contact…the Board wanted to try negotiating with them first.”

You huffed out a breath in disbelief. Those sons of bitches…

“I pushed for them to do something more drastic but they fought me every step of the way. It wasn’t until they received that first video message that they finally agreed that I should make the call.”

So your father had fought for you, but to a point. That fact rolled around in your brain for a moment. Had your roles been reversed, you would have told the Board to go screw themselves and immediately contacted whoever could rescue your father as soon as possible. No amount of money, litigation threats, or risk to the business would have stopped you. You, his only child, his only surviving family member, had been in mortal danger, and he hadn’t done everything he could to secure your safe return home as soon as possible? It was hard to wrap your mind around that. Then his last words finally registered. “Wait, what video message?”

His blue eyes softened with sympathy then and you could swear you could see a little bit of pain beginning to cloud them. “Where you were tortured.”

You should have known. Why else would your kidnappers have filmed it? Truthfully, you had known it back when they were hurting you. You shouldn’t be surprised, but you also didn’t want to talk about it. “You mean the pictures weren’t enough to convince them?” Before that first night, your kidnappers had forced you and your co-workers to look up at them as they snapped photos of you on their phones. You knew then that they were either using it as a scare tactic for your father and the Board or they were providing proof of life. Either way, it hadn’t mattered in the end since obviously the kidnappers had kicked it up a notch after that.

A haunted look fleeted across your father’s tired face. While you may still be struggling with the idea that he hadn’t done everything you would have done in his place, you knew this had taken a toll on him. He had been genuinely concerned for you and the relief you’d seen on his expression when he saw you for the first time since you’d been separated was palpable. “When they saw the video, they could no longer pretend that this was something they could simply deal their way out of.”

Your brows drew together as you studied him. You were sure it had been hard for them to see what had happened to you, to hear your cries, your screams, your pained whimpers. You knew it must have been even more difficult for your father to see. But somehow you got the distinct impression that’s not what he was referring to. “Dad.” He glanced up at you and sure enough, you could tell he was keeping something from you. “Tell me.”

He grasped your hand tightly once more. This was definitely not going to be good. “It was bad enough to see what they did to you…but the end of the video was what convinced them.” At your knitted brow, he elaborated, “They pulled Tim out of the room they were keeping you all in, brought him somewhere, and then killed him.”

Your eyes widened and your heart stopped. What?

“And they said if they didn’t get what they wanted in three days, you were next.”

Your heart started up again and began to pound in your chest. You felt like you were falling with no end in sight. Tim was…dead? Your breathing sped up into short pants and you could hear beeping from a machine you were connected to but it sounded so far away.

You had blocked out some of that experience, your brain subconsciously trying to protect you perhaps, you weren’t sure. And whatever memories stayed, each time they started to flash in your mind, you would close your eyes and grab hold of your safe harbor in those turbulent waves of trauma that tried to overtake you. You would think of green and while the images didn’t exactly disappear, it kept them at a safe distance. Well, while you were awake at least. The nightmares you experienced were something else entirely.

But this…nothing could protect you from this. You suddenly remembered being locked in that bedroom, hearing the yelling, the gunshot—oh God, the gunshot. You had heard the moment they— Your father urged you to calm down, rubbing your hand comfortingly, but you couldn’t hear him or even when a nurse rushed into the room to ask what was going on. Because at that precise moment, a memory came back to you, ripping your tight grip on your green harbor and tossing you back into the dark ocean of trauma and pain to drown in.

It had been right before you’d passed out the second time. While your soldier had gotten out of the helicopter, you had glanced over to see the other helicopter that your people were disembarking from. At the time, you had been so out of it due to the pain and disorientation you had been feeling that you didn’t realize the number of people you should have been seeing was one short. You didn’t even seem to process the black bag two soldiers removed from the aircraft and carried off the tarmac together. You just knew something was wrong, something you had tried to tell your soldier before you passed out again. But now you knew exactly what you had seen.

Tim. Tim had been with you since you started in the New York office; he preceded you actually. Even though your father had chosen him to accompany you and the others, all you could remember was the nice man who had smiled and said hello as he walked into the office; the man who was quiet and reserved but also a hard worker; who had offered you his jacket to cover up with; the man who had begged the kidnappers for the photos of his kids from his wallet that they had taken and then denied him; the man who talked about his family and proudly told you all about his children. His daughter, Riley, was eight and she had recently taken up soccer. Before you’d left for Bogota, she had told him that her coach wanted her to try the goalie position but she was scared; she didn’t want balls flying at her head. You couldn’t blame her on that one and had said as much. You remembered all too well the sports you had been made to join growing up and it had never really been your thing, but it made your father happy so you did it each time he urged you to sign up or try out. Tim’s son, David, was nearly six and he had just graduated kindergarten. And the baby, Olivia, could be quite the handful since she was a very rambunctious toddler who never seemed to run out of energy, but his wife, Angela, lived up to her name and couldn’t be happier with their current family setup. And now… Now, he would never get to see any of them ever again.

The pained wail that met your ears caught you off guard until you realized it was coming from you. Tim was a good man and he had managed to make a life outside of work. He had something you had never let yourself dream about having since it would inevitably get in the way of your successful climbing of the corporate ladder. Now, he would never get to see his kids grow up, go to any more of Riley’s soccer games to encourage her, go on any more date nights with his wife — none of it. You had the horrible thought for a moment that it should have been you in that bag instead. It nearly had been you.

Your father held onto you as you wept, as the nurse rubbed your back from the opposite side of the bed, crooning soft reassurances to you and urging you to try to calm down. But nothing could reassure you; you were here and Tim was not. A cold hard fact that you could do nothing to change. Even worse, you had missed his funeral since you were stuck in the hospital you had been transferred to once you were flown from the one you had briefly ended up in down in Colombia. You hadn’t even known about his death until this moment, your suddenly resurfaced traumatic memories aside.

Since that day, the memory of that single gunshot had tormented you. Had Tim known it was coming? Did he think about Angela and the kids right then? Had he prayed they would be okay without him? How terrified must he have been? You knew how scared you were in that bedroom, how fearful you had been during your second round of torture, sensing that this wasn’t going to end with the doctor treating you as it had the last time (which had now been confirmed that your instinct had been spot on). You could only imagine how he must have felt in that final moment.

The nightmares proceeded to get even worse and you were afraid to be left alone in your hospital room. Though your father and the medical staff had assured you that you were safe, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you weren’t, no matter how irrational you knew you were being. Eventually, your assistant Luna started working remotely from your room to keep you company and your father had hired two full-time bodyguards to watch over you: Owen during the day and Simon at night. When the nightmares became practically unbearable, that rotation switched. For some reason, you felt safer with Owen there. Perhaps it had to do with his look, specifically his salt and pepper beard…you briefly remembered the feeling of a beard underneath your bloody fingertips though you couldn’t place the face it belonged to. You had a feeling it was connected to the green you remembered, that you clung to in the tumultuous sea of mayhem that was the night you were marked to die — the green that you associated with your rescuer. Why you couldn’t recall his face, you had no idea, but you chalked it up to your brain once again trying to make sense of the chaos that reigned inside your head.

Green continued to symbolize safety and reassurance for you. So much so that when Luna brought a bag of clothes for you to change into for your beginning rehab sessions, you immediately picked out an olive green hoodie she had selected from your closet and set it aside. You took to holding it close as you slept, letting the scent of home attached to it wash over you as you closed your eyes. When you would wake from your nightmares, sometimes gasping for air that wouldn’t come, sometimes crying, or sometimes screaming, you would see the hoodie next to you and grab it, holding it close until you could either breathe again or calm back down. It became a source of comfort for you and long remained that even after you were discharged.

Your doctor had recommended therapy in addition to the outpatient rehab you would be continuing but truth be told, you weren’t in a rush to relive anything or even unearth something that might somehow be worse than what you already remembered. Your father had also dismissed the idea of therapy, saying that focusing on regaining your ability to walk without the assistance of crutches would help, as well as getting back to concentrating on work. You didn’t agree, you knew better, but you also allowed his view to become your excuse, solidifying your refusal to deal with the trauma you had suffered. After all, you were still here, still breathing — as long as you kept reminding yourself of that, you would be fine.

So you did as your father insisted: you focused on your physical therapy and you slowly found your way back to working full-time. You had graduated from crutches to a cane. Your doctor said your knee was healing nicely and right on schedule, which made you glad that you had listened to him and not your father’s initial suggestion of a knee replacement. You still felt a twinge of discomfort and a whispery echo of pain when walking so you relied more heavily on the cane than your doctor or physical therapist might have liked. You may not have remembered everything from your ordeal, but the pain of the initial impact of the bat and afterwards as you were carried to a waiting helicopter to take you to safety was still a very recent and clear memory for you. You doubted you would ever forget it as long as you lived.

Eventually, you returned to your office and you accepted the well wishes all around. You had no idea what they had been told about your obvious injury or what had caused it but thankfully, no one questioned you. You had been in brief touch with Meredith and the others in the days after your initial surgery back in Colombia but not since then. You had been so focused on your recovery and processing the news of Tim’s death that, truthfully, you hadn’t thought of much else. Even though Luna had been working from your hospital room for a time and she kept you apprised on all developments as well as anything that required your attention, you knew your father had instructed her to keep it all to a strictly need-to-know basis until you were finally ready to fully take up the mantle again. And because you were already dealing with more than enough, you allowed it and didn’t push for more than she told you. So the guilt consumed you when you were informed that Suzanne had resigned and Pat had taken an early retirement to be able to spend more time with her kids and grandkids. Rob had taken a position at another company, though Jerry and Meredith were still there. However, Meredith worked remotely most days, something she had worked out with your father while you had been out. You wondered if it might have been a result of Meredith initially refusing to sign the NDA, a sort of compromise to get her to agree to keeping your ordeal under wraps. You made a mental note to reach out to all of them so you could at least check in to see how they were doing. Jerry was in Research; you’d stop by there later.

As tough as all of that had been to learn and stepping back into the swing of things proved to be a little more complicated than you thought it would be, the most difficult moment had been when you went up to Design. Seeing Tim’s office not being Tim’s anymore had left you reeling. Your father moved fast and had hired his replacement within days. From a professional perspective, you more than understood; the business still had to run after all and Design was one of your most crucial departments. But knowing it and seeing it were two different things. The nightmares were particularly brutal that night. You kept hearing the gunshot, kept seeing one of the kidnappers with their cell phone look over at you afterwards and give you the most terrifying smile. Even the hoodie hadn’t helped. When you looked at it, you didn’t see green anymore but red. A very bold and wet shade of dark red. You tossed it away from you and screamed, bursting into sobs as you rocked yourself back and forth in a soothing motion.

You had immediately called out sick the next morning and spent the rest of the day in bed, alternating between crying and staring blankly at the TV on the wall. Later on, when you could think clearly again, you gave yourself a stern talking to. You were here, alive, and you had hundreds of people looking to you to lead them. You refused to dishonor Tim’s memory by hiding away in your apartment for the rest of your life, no matter how appealing the option might feel. You could hear your father’s voice in your head again, pushing you, telling you to get back up and go to work, to be the best you could be.

And sure enough, you heard his voice for real the next day when he walked into your office. “What is he doing here?”

You glanced up and looked over where he was pointing to see Owen sitting in one of the chairs off to the side, watching you both. You pressed your lips together and shut the portfolio in front of you. “His name’s Owen, Dad. You know that. And he’s here because I asked him to be.”

Your father looked quite displeased with that. “I dismissed him and the other one last week. We talked about this.”

You let out a quiet sigh and sat back in your chair. “I know but—”

“It’s not a good look and it certainly isn’t good for morale. The cane you still insist on unnecessarily using is bad enough. Do you think people around here aren’t asking themselves or each other why you have this man sitting in your office, watching your every move?”

You leaned forward and lowered your voice. “Dad, I get that. I do, but I need—”

“Is this why you called out sick yesterday?” You briefly dropped your gaze to your desk. You didn’t really want to talk about that or how despondent you’d been in your bed for hours until your alarm went off, jolting you into grabbing your phone and making the call. Your father’s eyes softened though his tone didn’t. “Honey, what you need is to dismiss him, permanently, and get back to your life, to your work. Don’t forget, you’re at the helm of this ship and everyone’s looking to you to navigate it seamlessly through the waters.”

Your jaw clenched and for the first time in your life, you were about to draw a line in the sand between what he was telling you to do and what you knew you needed to do. “I’m aware of that and I can’t steer the ship unless I feel safe. Owen here,” you nodded in the man’s direction. “Makes me feel safe. With him present, I can focus and get the job done. So, Owen is staying until I say otherwise.”

Your father’s own jaw tightened. “I’m not paying for more—”

“You’re not. I am. And believe it or not, while I’m doing what’s right for me, I’m also doing what’s right for this office, to ensure our complete success. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some reports from Research to review.” You slipped your eyeglasses back on and reopened the portfolio in front of you, scanning the contents.

You glanced up when your father stepped closer to your desk, his voice lower than before though his now angry gaze burned into you. You should have known by dismissing him in that manner after standing your ground, what it would do. “I’m going to strongly suggest that you finish up with Research and take your lunch out of the office. Perhaps outside. It’s a beautiful day and a dose of fresh air might just be what you need.” He gave you a curt nod and then swiftly left the room. Once he was gone, your shoulders deflated and you slumped back into your chair. You knew your father loved you and he only wanted the best for you, for you to succeed, but sometimes you couldn’t help but wonder if it ever came down to the choice of you or the business, who would he choose? He already chose. You blinked the rapidly forming tears in your eyes away at the thought that had popped into your head out of nowhere and carefully got to your feet, reaching for your cane.

“Owen,” Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him immediately stand at attention. “I think we’re going to take my father’s advice. He’s right. It is a beautiful day and I would like to take full advantage of it.” He moved towards you, watching as you moved to the corner and slipped on your light coat. “I’d prefer to be anywhere that isn’t here,” you mumbled, grabbing your handbag.

You carefully made your way across your office with Owen following right behind you, ready to assist if need be while also keeping an eye out. You called out to your assistant as you passed her by, “Luna, I’m going out for lunch today. Please hold all calls until I return.”

“Of course, Ms. Y/L/N. If Research calls while you’re out, is there anything you would like me to tell them?”

You thought it over for a moment before turning towards the elevators. “Tell them I’m still working on it. Thank you.” And for the first time since you’d started in this company, you left without getting the job done. The thought didn’t sit well with you, you had always been conditioned to complete all of the tasks set out before you, no matter how late you might have to stay to complete them. But at the same time, it oddly made you smile a little.

So here you were, in Central Park on a gorgeous fall day, having taken your father’s advice to heart. You took every single one of your lunches outdoors now unless it was raining or too cold to sit outside for long. You always marveled at the fact that you had lived in New York City for close to two years and you had never once taken the time to stop and notice what surrounded you on a daily basis. You had never taken in the present moment, never taken an opportunity just to be, to sit quietly and listen. The bench you were on by the lake had quickly become one of your favorite spots. You could relax and indulge in the art of people watching, take in all of the sounds, sights, and smells around you. Truth be told, it was the best part of your day.

Owen stood sentry not too far from you, giving you enough space but also ready to intervene at any moment should he be needed. Despite sitting in a park in the middle of one of the most crime-ridden cities in the country, you felt beyond safe. Owen would never let anything happen to you and being in public, around people living their everyday lives…you felt the safest you had in a long time. A feeling you ended up trying to replicate by looking up Central Park ambience videos on YouTube and playing them while you fell asleep though it didn’t always manage to keep the nightmares away. But you expected that; trauma could be a real stubborn pain in the ass.

But right now, sitting here like this, you were okay. That is, until someone decided to sit down on the opposite side of the bench you were on. All of the times you had sat in this spot, you had been left alone, free to claim this bench as your own for the hour or so you’d spend here. Now, someone appeared not to have gotten the unofficial memo. Out of your peripherals, you saw Owen quickly approaching, most likely intending to tell the stranger to move to another bench, when the person glanced back at him, holding a hand up.

“Relax, man. I appreciate you looking out but I’m not here to hurt her, alright? I’m just here to talk.” The second you heard the voice, your gaze snapped over to the man across from you. You immediately recognized it; it was one you’d heard in your nightmares over and over, telling you to stay with him as you desperately clung to his hand until the kidnappers snatched you away. Was it even possible or were you just imagining this man had spoken to Owen with that voice?

When the man turned back to look at you, you recognized the green eyes immediately and a small lump began to form in your throat. Sure enough, he had a beard, one that looked startlingly familiar when you warily prodded at the memory, trying to recall it. A flash of his face, dirtier than it appeared now, popped into your mind. As if it had been patiently waiting all of this time for you to simply reach out and grab a hold of it. Tears began to burn in the corner of your eyes; it was him.

“It’s you,” you choked out in a whisper without really meaning to.

The smile you faintly remembered graced his face. “It’s me,” he confirmed.

You stared at him, truly dumbfounded. “How?”

“I told you I’d find you.”

You nearly started crying when the familiar words floated up from your subconscious, the phrase you had somehow forgotten in the midst of everything. But you remembered it now, as clearly and vividly as the man sitting before you who had said it. You had been about to pass out in the makeshift surgical room, crying and holding onto him tightly, afraid to let him go. “Will I ever see you again?” “I’ll find you.”

“I made you a promise and I intended on keeping it.” His green eyes softened slightly, much as they had all of those months ago as he caught every single tear that rolled down your cheeks as you succumbed to the drug beginning to course through your system. “I’ll find you.”

And find you he did.

A little preview of the next installment:

Still sensing your discomfort, Russell immediately lifted up and peeled his shirt off, revealing his bare skin to you for the first time. Immediately, you noticed a small bandage wrapped around his left arm.

“What happened?” You gasped, sitting up and gingerly running your fingers below the bandage line.

He shrugged and looked down at it. “Got shot on a job.”

Your jaw dropped and when he glanced back up at you, he must have seen the worry that was consuming you because he immediately chuckled and affectionately cupped your chin. “I’m okay. Besides, that’s not what I wanted to show you.” He took your hand in his and moved it to his other shoulder, guiding your fingertips over skin that was jagged, puckered slightly, and silver-looking. “Shot.” He then moved your hands down his side until it reached a decent sized line that was anything but smooth. “Stabbed.” Your hands moved again to right above his abdomen. “Cut.” They moved once more and ended up on his clavicle. “Cut from an attempted stab.” You winced as he mentioned each injury he had received; they had all been the result of violent means. He moved your hands up to the upper tip of his right ear. “Bullet graze.” There was no scar there to speak of but you could see the tiniest bit of difference between his ears in that area when you looked closely.

He finally brought your hand to rest over his heart, holding it there. “Sofia.” Your brows furrowed in confusion and he smirked over at you. “Cute little waitress in Costa Rica. Gave me one hell of a weekend and then left me high and dry for some young British guy who showed up at the beach and hadn’t yet run out of money.”

You scoffed and yanked your hand from underneath his, making him laugh, as you crossed your arms.

He moved closer to you, cupping your cheeks and staring into your eyes. “I’m kidding about that last part. The rest, I’m not. I’ve got plenty more on my back and even a few on my legs. A couple more on my arms. We all have scars. They’re just reminders of battles we’ve fought and survived. Don’t be ashamed of yours.” A tear escaped and rolled down your cheek but his thumb caught it. He pressed his forehead against yours and murmured, “You’re beautiful.”

When he looked at you like this, spoke softly to you like this, you genuinely believed him.

A/N: Coming very soon. Please let me know if you would like to be tagged.

#russell shaw x reader #russell shaw x female reader #russell shaw x you #russell shaw x y/n #russell shaw #russell shaw fanfiction #prompt response #jensen ackles character #jensen ackles #scheduled post #you're safe now i'm here part 1 #tracker fanfiction #tracker fanfic #thebiggerbear writes #russell shaw fanfic #russell shaw prompt response #russell shaw fic #russell shaw fics #russell shaw prompt responses

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bananayuyu · 3 days

Text

Hopeless Desire - Part 2

Pairing: Yunho x f reader

Genre: smut, fluff, angst

Word count: 9.6k

Summary: You were Mingi's younger sister by six years, and had a crush on his best friend Yunho since you were nine. You harbored this crush for years, never thinking it would go anywhere. Little did you know, Yunho had recently started to feel the same. But you're his best friend's little sister, so what can he do?

Chapter Summary: Mingi finally finds out, not in the way you intended.

Warnings: MDNI, smut, fingering, use of a vibrator, oral (both m and f receiving), some throat fucking, some pet names, more vague mentions of toxic family dynamics, more vague mentions of Mingi having mental health issues, pls lmk if I missed anything!

A/n: Thank you all so much for the feedback on part 1! It means the world to me. This is my first fic that I'm publishing publicly so I am so grateful. I hope you all enjoy <3

All three of you were frozen. Yunho fixed you with a sharp gaze, still clearly confused at your presence. But now you noticed it was changing, his eyes narrowing and head tilting every so slightly in an obvious sign of anger or frustration. You still sat in your chair unmoving; you couldn't help but notice the way his gaze was affecting your body, the way your arms were tingling and your lower stomach fluttering. Anxiety and excitement can feel shockingly similar, sometimes. You couldn't tell which you were feeling.

"Yunho, I-" you begin to explain yourself, but Mingi cuts you off in anger.

"No no, tell me what the hell is going on first," he says, shockingly stern and strong coming from him. The only time Mingi is ever stern is when he's protecting you, or thinks he is. You realize now what he thinks happened, that Yunho has upset or offended or hurt you in some way. He must think Yunho took a joke to far, or, or...

"Mingi, just-" but he cuts you off again, making you feel patronized.

"I thought when you started talking to me earlier that you were finally gonna admit that you two had been dating, but now-"

It's your turn to cut him off now. Yunho's as well.

"What?!" you both say in unison, Yunho's gaze now back to Mingi.

"Oh, so you aren't dating?" Mingi says with exasperation.

"Well, not really, not yet," Yunho stumbles. You put your head in your hands and curl up into a ball, seeing this whole conversation crumbling apart in front of you.

"Not yet? What does that mean? You've obviously upset her, what the hell did you do?!" Mingi's voice is rising in volume, unable to keep his anger under control. Mingi doesn't get angry often, but when he does it can consume him in an instant.

"Mingi, let me explain-"

"You probably told her you loved her just to sleep with her or something-"

"Mingi, I haven't slept with her! Calm down!" Yunho has raised his voice now too. At this admission you shoot him a hurt look, not understanding why he'd lie. Just because he hasn't put his dick in you doesn't mean you haven't had sex. You thought he was someone who understood that.

"You haven't?" Mingi asks, seeing the look you gave Yunho.

"Well, not technically-" but Yunho is cut off by Mingi lunging for him, slamming him against his front door and slamming the door shut in the process. The loud bang is awful and makes you jump, hands jumping to your ears a the painful sound. You start to feel panicked, your heart racing much faster now. Mingi has Yunho pinned to the door by his shoulders, but Yunho managed to get an arm up in time to have some leverage against Mingi's own chest. The two struggle against each other, Yunho at a disadvantage being stuck to the wall. Out of the corner of his eye he sees your eyes filling with tears, your hands stuck to the sides of your head. You aren't even looking at them, as if not looking will mean this isn't happening. He knows how much you hate when people fight. It was something that happened with your parents and other members of your family far too often when you were growing up.

"Don't do this shit in front of y/n!" Yunho yells at Mingi. "You're just upsetting her, you have no idea-"

"You just fucking lied to me!" Mingi screams back. "What the fuck does 'not technically' mean?!" He pushes harder into Yunho now, trying to push free the one bit of leverage Yunho has. Both of them are tall but Mingi has obvious strength on Yunho, and you see Yunho's eyes widen in fear and pain, Mingi's superior strength terrifying now that it's turned on him. You see his mind working quickly, trying to formulate a plan. His eyes meet yours and they've changed again, this time begging you for help. He looks away quickly but the message was unmistakeable.

"Mingi!" you call, the momentary distraction giving Yunho just enough time to duck below Mingi's arms and shove his torso away to allow him the space to escape. But Mingi doesn't stay distracted for long and jumps on Yunho again, tackling him to the ground this time. The two tussle and grapple and you look away again, unable to watch as they hurt themselves over this argument. You imagine tomorrow morning, the broken fingers or bruises or damaged furniture that has to be repaired. The explanation of the situation to managers, to the members. You want to yell at them to stop, to not hurt themselves, but you can't bring yourself to. You know it won't put a stop to anything.

"Mingi. Mingi just stop," you finally hear, the sounds of their brawl having died down. You glance over carefully, as if about to look at the scene of a bloody crime. But you're only met with Yunho on top of Mingi, pinning his arms to his chest and not letting him move. Neither one looks injured, at least from where you sit some feet away.

"I'm gonna fucking kill you if you hurt her," Mingi says, still struggling under Yunho, but only half-heartedly, clearly understanding he's stuck.

"Mingi, almost nothing has happened between me and y/n. If you had let us speak earlier you would have heard that."

"So you haven't been dating for like the past year?" Mingi asks, and it sounds genuine.

"No. Did you think we were? And we just hadn't said anything?" Yunho says this like he's hurt by the accusation, but you can also read a bit of guilt in his tone. Because some things have happened, and Mingi still doesn't know.

"We all did," Mingi replies.

"We?"

"The members."

"And none of you ever asked me about it? You just talked about it behind our backs?"

"It's not like we talked about it at length or anything. It was just something we all collectively thought." Mingi pauses a moment and Yunho sighs, clearly upset by this revelation. "You guys are like all over each other all the time when she's over, what were we supposed to think?"

You watch their conversation from you chair still, your anxiety and frustration bubbling over. You decide you can't take it anymore. You get up and walk quickly to the front door, trying to hold in your tears and make no sound. As you open the door they both call your name, but you don't care to turn around now. Stepping into the hallway you let the tears run down your cheeks, slumping down to sit with your back against the wall. You don't sob, you barely make a sound. You just breathe deeply and let the tears flow, letting yourself check out for a bit.

The door opens a few minutes later and Yunho emerges, moving slowly. He closes the door and looks at you for a moment, wanting to hug and kiss you and make your tears go away. He breaths in to steady himself, about to say something. But you speak first.

"I need to talk to my brother," you say. He just nods and moves back inside, knowing you don't want to move. Mingi steps out a few moments later, coming to sit down next to you.

"Yunho told me what's happened," he starts. "Is that what you were going to tell me earlier?"

"Yes, yes it was," you sigh. "I wish I said it sooner, so all that shit didn't happen."

"I'm sorry, but I thought he had hurt you or something. I just..." Mingi is talking self consciously, back to his more normal self.

"You know how much I hate when people fight around me," you say.

"I know." Mingi's heart twinges with guilt. And shame too, because he knows to whom you are really referring when you say 'people.' It's one person in particular, a man that Mingi doesn't want to be like in any way. "You seemed upset though, you looked at him like you were so upset. Are you sure he didn't hurt you?"

"Mingi, the thing he was doing that was upsetting me was how hesitant he was being with me. We both finally figured out we like each other only like days ago. But he still was keeping his distance from me sometimes. When I finally talked to him he said it was because he was worried what you would think, and what the members would think. He said he had to talk to you first. But then I realized I should really be the one to talk to you first. So I came over here to do that. And then I waited, and I waited, cause I was so nervous. I'm sorry this is happening, but no Yunho has not hurt me." You look at him with frustration. "Do you really think he'd do that?" you ask.

"No, but you never know what people are capable of. I have to protect you if I can," he says.

"Mingi, I protect you," you say.

"Too much. You're my younger sister, I should be protecting you more." Tears were forming in Mingi's eyes and neither of you realized, so suddenly tears are streaming down his cheeks. You move over and give him a hug, tears forming in your eyes too. You sit like that for a moment, you both mumbling 'I'm sorry' to each other. The hug is cathartic for you both.

"Mingi, Yunho and I both like each other. Is it gonna be a problem if we date?" you ask. Mingi shakes his head, but you can sense trepidation.

"I just really hope you don't break up and then things are tense between you. I hope you're really considering that possibility."

"Of course we are," you say without hesitation. And then you sit and think for a moment, realizing maybe you haven't. You take the moment to do some reflecting, to just sit and think on it. It hits you suddenly. "I think I've loved him since I was nine," you admit.

Little did you know, Yunho over heard this last part. He was just coming to check on you two and had just put his hand on the door. He paused, warmth swelling in his chest, and turned back.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After you reconciled with Mingi the boys had their own talk, also making up. You could tell Mingi was still feeling on edge and you understood he would need time to process the news. But really, it was good news mostly. He thought you both had been hiding this from him for months. In reality, it had only been a few days.

You left the apartment after hugging them both, the emotional turmoil of the evening exhausting you. You still couldn't believe that they actually fought and you feel mad. But you also feel relieved that Mingi finally knew everything. You walked slowly down the hallway, standing patiently at the elevator door.

Then Yunho was jogging down the hall, seeing the elevator open and determining he could make it. At the last moment he snuck in surprising you, a little out of breath. Suddenly the two of you were in this small isolated space, and the air felt electric. You remembered now how he looked when he looked mad, how your insides churned when he stuck his glare on you. You look at him now, his face serene, like usual. You loved how sweet he was. But you also liked that angry side, too. You feel so embarrassed for feeling this way, knowing damn well how destructive and dysfunctional it can be for a man's only show of emotion to be anger. But you couldn't help loving how it looked on him. You wanted him to be angry again, angry at you.

"Are you busy tonight?" he asked, moving over to your side of the elevator to wrap his arms around you.

"Wow, so smooth," you say, rolling your eyes.

"Oh, you've heard that one before? Didn't realize you got around so much," he teased. You lightly hit him in the ribs, knowing how sensitive the area was. You look up at his grimacing face and you laugh, relieved to finally be joking around again. You realize the elevator is almost to ground floor so you pull on his shirt to kiss him, relishing the few moments of privacy you two still have left. As the elevator opens you both part and begin walking out the front doors, keeping a consistent and almost tangible amount of space between you. The tension in the air is severe; you think if someone walked between you they might get electrocuted.

"You never answered my question," you says as you exit the building.

"I have to study tonight," you say, turning to him. "I have important things to do." He rolls his eyes slightly, but you can tell he's a little disappointed. "I'm sorry, I really do have some reading I need to get done tonight. I can't."

"You don't think you'll have any trouble focusing?" he asks, smirking.

"Trouble focusing?" you ask, exaggerating your confusion. "I think I'll be just fine, thank you." You go to give him a quick hug goodbye but instead playfully smack him, earning yet another pinch on your waist. You squeal and turn away, determined not to change your mind. You really should spend some time studying, and you really do feel like you need some alone time. But mostly, you hope that if you wait a few days to see him again that Yunho might be pent up enough to get a little angry.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Three days passed.

Sometimes life gets really busy for a few days; sometimes responsibilities require your attention 24/7. These days were like that. You had forgotten you had to be at work more days than usual this week, due to the elementary and middle school kids you tutored having their standardized mid-semester exams. For three days after classes you spent nearly your entire evening with them, trying to calm their nerves and help them learn. You liked your job, for the most part. It was why you had stayed for several years. But those three days were a bit trying. Talking down young kids from bouts of anxiety took it out of you.

This all meant that to Yunho, it seemed like you were keeping your distance. He and Mingi had filming for a music video those three days, but whenever he tried to call you didn't answer, and your texts came back slower than usual. The last day he got to come home early but when he asked you to hang out you said you had work. He swore you didn't usually work that day. He thought you were the hesitant one now. He felt a little hurt but also not sure if he was even reading things correctly. He realized he really, really cared what you thought of him. It was a scary realization.

Finally your weekend came and you had a day entirely to yourself. Realistically you hadn't been wanting to keep your distance from him for three days, even if you had thought you'd give it a try. You longed to be spending the evenings with him when you were at work with the worried kids. You worried you were coming off poorly now, like you didn't really care. You kept saying sorry for missing a call or not texting back for hours on end. It was just one of those times. It just happens every once in a while. But finally it was over.

"Y/n," Yunho answers your call. His voice is bright but there's a layer of annoyance in his tone. You'd by lying if you said it didn't excite you a little.

"Hi, are you busy today? I finally have a day off," you say.

"Are you saying you want to hang out with me?"

"Yes, Yunho. Duh."

"Well, I'm just asking cause yesterday you didn't want to."

"What do you mean, I had work!" you say.

"You don't work on Fridays though," he says. He sounds almost hurt, but he's still in a joking mood.

"I had to work extra cause of elementary and middle school exams. They're next week."

"Oh, so you weren't lying then."

"Yunho!" You can't believe he's accusing you of this. "I wouldn't lie and say I had work when I didn't have work, who do you think I am?"

"So you weren't trying to piss me off so I'd come to your house one night and throw rocks at your window or something?"

"Yunho, you're insane," you reply.

"You didn't answer my question," he says.

"I'm not going to."

"Alright, fine," he says. And then, "I'll be over in a minute."

"Okay," you say, and slump back down on your bed, unbelievably excited.

It was early in the afternoon. You had slept in and then eaten a large breakfast, hungry and exhausted from your extremely busy week. You finished a load of laundry you desperately needed to do and managed to clean up your bathroom a little. Finishing these small chores made you feel good. Now you finally had time to do whatever you wanted the rest of the day.

Yunho arrived quickly, not caring if he seemed desperate. He was desperate, desperate to see you and hold you after your three exhausting days. You felt the butterflies as soon as your call ended, and now with him standing in front of you your skin felt on fire. Your knees felt shaky, your heart rate shooting through the roof. You almost felt nauseous from how excited you were. You hoped it didn't seem weird. He stepped in a hugged you, pulling your head to his chest. And then you heard his heart beat and felt it too, how blazingly fast it was beating. You felt the jittering of his nerves, the way his skin felt hot as fire when you brushed a hand over his arm. You squeezed him tighter; it felt like the only way to alleviate your nerves. As you pressed into him you felt how taught his muscles were, how rapid his breathing. Finally, you felt what must be his cock pushing against your hip. Hard already, very hard. Your breath hitched. Your roommates were in the living room setting up a movie, but Tae had just walked in.

"Hey, Yunho, how are you?" Tae asked, kind as ever. You felt Yunho jump slightly at his voice. His eyes had been closed upon realizing just how excited he was to see you. He was mid trying to find a way to calm himself when Tae walked in.

"I'm good, thank you. How have you been?" he asked. Surprisingly steady, you thought. You felt him releasing your hug and moving you away from him slightly, and momentarily you were immensely confused. But then he spun you around and put his arms around your shoulders, still needing your body in front of his to cover a potentially noticeable bulge that was forming in his pants. Tae wouldn't say anything, wouldn't care. You knew that. But he didn't.

"I'm good too, just busy with my thesis. Are you sure you're okay, you look a little pale?" Tae asked, genuinely oblivious to what was happening.

"I honestly just really have to pee," Yunho says with a chuckle, and all of you chuckle with him. "Can I use your bathroom, y/n?"

Clever, you think. Don't know if I would have thought of that.

"No, absolutely not. No peeing in this house," you joke. Yunho sees this as an opportunity as well; he figured you might say something along those lines. He begins tickling you which has you shrieking and running away towards the hallway and saying, "okay, okay", and he sprints after you, able to leave the kitchen in a rush in a way that doesn't appear suspicious.

As soon as you enter your bedroom and close the door, you cannot stop giggling. Yunho goes to tickle you again but you fight back, attempting to tickle him too. It doesn't work very well, given how much longer his arms are. Soon he's grabbed you and hits that spot under your arm that tickles the most, so you collapse to the floor. He supports your weight so you don't fall, but now you're pinned to the ground and totally at his mercy. "Stop, stop" you keep giggling, kicking your feet in an attempt to hit him where it hurts most. "Yunhooooo" you finally whine, the giggles subsiding, and he knows you're truly done. He used to tickle you a lot more when you were little, after Mingi revealed how much it made you laugh. He hadn't done it in a while, not like that. A flash of nostalgia hits him, realizing how much time has passed. How he missed those days sometimes, before there was so much pressure. When you were little he could baby you and take care of you however much he wanted when you were together. Now he stares down at a full grown adult, and the thought of his own age hits him. How much time has passed. He longs for the old times again, sometimes. When you were only ten and sweet as can be. Growing up, dealing with your family, it had changed you some. It hurt him to think of all that weighed on you, all the responsibility you took on so young. He sometimes wished he could go back.

But then there were times like this when he was so glad for the change. He had probably liked you longer than he ever would admit to anyone, given your age. He never really considered the truth of it a few years ago, because of how shameful it felt to like someone so young. It wasn't like he ever felt that way about other high school girls, so he told himself his feelings were just born from how much he loved and cared about you. But he couldn't deny it now, looking down at you, his dick still rock hard in his pants and his eyes unable to leave you. He couldn't deny how the print of your nipples through your thin shirt made him salivate, how the curve of your waist into your hips, the curve of your belly was what he thought of each night when he touched himself to sleep. And that cute pout, that pout that made everyone melt a little bit. Now when you turned it on him it just made him want to give you everything, to make you come over and over again.

Just as he is about to lean down to kiss you, a knock sounds from your door.

"Y/n, that movie you wanted to watch is on Netflix, if you still want to!" Nari says from the hallway. "I'll be in the living room, just let me know, no pressure." She walks away, not wanting to disturb you two.

Yunho leans down again, in an instant having forgotten what Nari said. But then you remember your thoughts from three days ago, about maybe pissing Yunho off, just a little.

"We should watch it, it's really good," you say. All you get is a 'hmm' in response. Yunho kisses you now, slow and sensual and like he wants to do more. You can tell where it's headed, and your pussy isn't opposed. But you want to see if you can resist, just this once. "Yunho," you say. He looks at you, eyes almost glazed over with lust. This is gonna be a hard sell, you think. So you give him that pout. You haven't used it intentionally in a while, but you used to all the time when you were kids. To get him to buy you ice cream, or get him to make a phone call for you that you were dreading. Even once to talk to a teacher for you. It was always effective then.

And it's effective now, too. Of course it is.

"What?" he asks, pulled back slightly, just wanting to give you whatever you want.

"I wanna watch the movie, I'm sorry," you say.

"No no, no apologizing. We will do whatever you want," he says. "I'm sorry for jumping on you. I just couldn't resist." You start giggling again.

"It's okay, I liked it," you say.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The movie is so good that you are at times distracted from the ever present bulge you can feel pressing against your ass. With Yunho's arms wrapped around you, you feel almost sleepy, so unbelievably comfortable. Maybe this extreme sense of comfort made you act so bratty. You weren't really sure where it came from. When Yunho offered you popcorn you refused, asking instead if you could have the corn chips you kept in the kitchen pantry. When Yunho told you the way you were sitting was putting his leg to sleep you whined and complained about having to move. Then when he relaxed his arms away, worried he was overwhelming you by holding you so close, you forcefully grabbed them and put them around you again. By the time the movie ended he was fairly lost, not sure why you were acting that way. He was pretty sure you didn't even like corn chips.

The two of you made your way back to your room, Yunho walking slowly in trepidation. He really, really wasn't sure. He felt like there was something you weren't telling him. Maybe she just needs a little more time, he thought.

"Do you want me to get going?" he asked you.

"What?" you asked in return, wide-eyed.

"You seem, I don't know," he stops himself. "You like corn chips now?" He feels it's a reasonable question to ask. You try to keep a smile from forming on your face. You should have known how easily he'd see through you.

"Yeah," you say, awkwardly. You don't know what else to say.

"You didn't even eat any after I went and got them for you," he says.

You stand silently, not sure where to go from here. Usually playing around and messing with him feels so fun. But this is feeling a little weird now. It wasn't authentic, and he knows it. You start to feel a bit bad, and think you should just tell him what you want. But that feels daunting too. You just stare at him, unable to speak, unsure of what to say.

Yunho moves closer to you, seeing that pout forming again, seeing your brain work overtime. He runs a hand through your hair and settles his hand at the nape of your neck. He stares deeply into your eyes, capturing the entirety of your attention. In a low voice, he speaks deliberately.

"Baby, what do you want?"

You blush at his words and smile, closing your eyes to savor the way his voice sounds. You feel an intoxicating mix of guilt and excitement bubbling in your stomach, but you can't bring yourself to speak. Your throat is tight and all you can do is let out a whine.

"Use your words. Tell me."

It feels like he is commanding you now. You feel like you might lift off the ground, like he is made of magic and could make you levitate if he wanted to. Your throat suddenly lets you speak, lets you get enough of a breath to get it out.

"I want you to do whatever you want to me," you say, your voice barely audible. But Yunho holds onto every syllable, like you've yelled it at him through a megaphone. He pulls your face up to his, his lips devouring yours, leaving nearly no room for you to breathe. He's grabbing you intensely, a hand firmly set on one of your ass cheeks and grabbing roughly at it.

"Do you want me mad, is that it?" he asks, his voice still low and even. He doesn't feel out of control by any means, but you can tell you've elicited some pent up frustration. All you do is giggle, so happy that your plan has worked.

"Get on your bed, and take off your clothes," he commands, not wanting to wait any longer. He's had this idea since he was here last; at that time it felt like something he should approach slowly, and ask you first. But now he realizes it's probably the sort of thing you want. After pulling off his shirt and pants he makes his way for your bedside table. As you remove your panties you see him opening the top drawer, pulling out a small pink wand that you have stashed there. Your heart nearly drops at the sight of it, the way it looks almost small in his hand, the way he so confidently went for it.

"Yunho!" you say, in shock. "How..."

"I accidentally saw it last time I was here, baby. I can't stop thinking about you using it on yourself. You probably use it every night don't you? When I'm not here to make you come?"

Your blushing again but this time you look rather embarrassed, your arms wrapped around your chest to cover yourself. Still, you undressed as he said. It's as if you can't disobey him in this state. You've never felt like this before with anyone. Like you don't have a care in the world, like your brain has turned off almost entirely except for the parts necessary for survival. Like you know Yunho will take care of you, no matter what happens.

Yunho can sense this shift in your mind, but sees you covering yourself and has to check.

"Are you okay?" he asks, almost sternly. You know it's because he needs to know, for his own sanity.

"Please don't stop," you say as you nod, voice breathy and needy, arms still covering yourself. Your waiting for him to say it, waiting, waiting-

"Stop covering yourself." Finally. You take your arms down, almost presenting your chest to him. His breath hitches slightly, but you can't see it. His face remains neutral; he feels oddly at home being in control of you like this.

"Lay down," he says. Then, "spread your legs, let me see you." He moves down to you, hands running up and down your legs. But his eyes won't leave your pussy. He moves his face closer, now kissing and biting into your inner thighs, relishing how soft they feel against his cheek. Now he can smell you slightly, the sweet and musky scent making him feel almost drunk. He wasn't planning on it but he can't resist, and moves his face down to get a taste of you. He moves his tongue up your pussy slowly, savoring the warmth and sweetness. He settles himself down and wraps his hands around your thighs and you can't stop staring at his hands, long and veiny in the heat of the room. He licks you slowly again, then settles at the top, brushing gentle circles over your clit. Your body reacts instantly, your back arching and your head falling back, your legs moving in and surrounding his head. He can tell your clit is really sensitive, and doesn't want to overwhelm you at first. He pulls back and licks even more gently, slowly pushing your legs back down so you are completely spread for him. You feel his warm tongue stroking back and forth, his gentle movements causing such intense feelings. You sigh and relax into the feeling, your eyes closed and mind on another planet. It takes a little while for your body to completely give in and Yunho can tell, but he doesn't mind taking the time. He likes the idea that this might take a while. He could spend hours between your legs, tasting you and making you moan.

Suddenly you feel close, each stroke of his tongue sending sparks through you, and then you're coming undone, your whole body feeling warm and tingly. Yunho's tongue is unrelenting and soon feels like too much, so you grab onto his hair and pull at him slightly. He pulls up his face and you see his lips glistening with your slick, his eyes dark as they meet yours. He moves up to kiss you, wanting you to taste yourself. The kiss is sweet but intense, Yunho grabbing onto your waist to hold you as close to him as he can.

"I'm sorry I took forever," you say between kisses, feeling a little embarrassed.

"Don't ever apologize about that," he says, kissing you again, holding you tight. You know he says it to be kind, but in this context it also feels like another command, so you vow to never do it again.

Yunho rises, moving down and spreading your legs again to see you, see how puffy and pink your pussy looks. It makes him salivate and he wants to dive back in immediately, but then he remembers his original plan and grabs the wand he had dropped on your bed. He moves down between your legs again, then slowly strokes his fingers through your slit, careful not to shock you with his touch. "Relax, baby," he says in a whisper, the depth of his voice reaching into your bones. You do as he says and open your eyes, smiling at him as he starts to stroke you again, covering his fingers in your slick and then moving them down into position. He slowly pushes two into you, and after a few slow strokes adds a third. You feel yourself stretch a bit to accommodate the added finger, the feeling only briefly painful and then entirely perfect. Your head is thrown back again and this time you wish you could open your legs even wider, wish you could take more of him. He starts pumping in and out of you consistently, waiting until you start opening up even more. Once he feels your walls relax just that little bit more he picks up the wand, turning it on to its lowest setting. You inhale sharply, nervous at how intense it will feel. "It's okay," he says. "We'll stop if it doesn't feel good." But your anxiety was for nothing; as he presses the wand down onto your clit you feel immediate white hot pleasure, the feeling more intense that you've ever known. With both his fingers inside you and the wand on your clit your orgasm builds quickly; as you feel yourself about fall over the edge it builds even more, and then it happens a second time. You feel like your pussy is on fire, like you are a dam about to break. "Yunho, yunho," you squeak out, your brain having completely left you, but something in you wanting him to know how good he's making you feel. But he can tell anyway, from the way your squirm and open yourself even wider for him, by the sounds you are making. You come hard, your eyes rolling back and legs shaking uncontrollably. A bit of droll leaks out of your mouth onto your pillow without you noticing, the feelings enveloping you too intense for you to register literally anything else. A small and quick burst of fluid leaves your pussy and covers Yunho's arm. "Good girl," he says earnestly, sure he just made you squirt.

When you finally come down from your high you can't stop talking. You crawl over to him and wrap around him, feeling suddenly so excited. "That felt so good," you say, nuzzling your head into his neck. "I've never come that hard ever, I don't think."

"Good," Yunho says, placing a satisfied kiss on your temple. "I want you to feel good." You smile up at him, scrunching up your face in happiness.

"You always make me feel good, even when we're just hanging out," you say. Yunho wraps you up in his arms, his heart not able to handle your sweetness.

"You're too sweet for this world," he says. You nuzzle into his chest at his words, so happy to be praised.

You settle into a comfortable silence for a few moments, your breathing finally returned to normal. You hug Yunho, feeling his breaths rising and falling. And then he breathes in like he's about to say something.

"I want to make you come again," he says.

"I don't know if I can, after that..." you trail off, quietly laughing at yourself.

"I think you can," he says, a mischievous smile on his lips. "Get on your hands and knees."

You do as he says, arranging yourself near the top of your bed to give him room behind you. You arch your back and stick your butt out towards him, and when he taps on one of your knees you spread them apart further. "Good girl," he says again, and you can feel your pussy clench, your wetness feeling cool against the air. He slowly enters his three fingers into you again, your pussy now so wet that they slide in easily. At this angle he can reach so deeply inside you, and it feels like his fingers might be feet long. You feel his movements in your whole abdomen and it's intoxicating, and suddenly you really wish it was his cock inside you, reaching deeper than even his fingers can, splitting you open with forceful thrusts. He reaches towards your shoulders to push them down, flattening your chest and face against your bed with your ass still in the air. Once he has you exactly where he wants you he goes for the wand again, this time switching it onto a slightly higher setting, determined to make you come again. As soon as it makes contact you are again met with white hot pleasure, the intensity of it still surprising you, the multiple points of stimulation making you feel small and submissive. He increases the intensity of his fingers, pumping them into you faster and putting even more pressure on that spot you love so much. Soon you are screaming into your pillow, and Yunho is thankful you are coving your mouth yourself. He would, if he had a free hand to do so. Soon he feels your pussy twitching around his fingers, and then you are clamping down on him so hard, your legs shaking so hard and your body slumping down slowly, unable to hold itself up in your challenging position anymore. Yunho slowly removes the wand and turns it off, then slowly removes his fingers, licking them to again savor the taste of you. You lay slumped in an almost concerning way, so Yunho leans over and moves your hair out of your face to see a blissful smile and blush red cheeks.

He moves to the bathroom to grab a washcloth, coming back to wipe of your thighs and ass and make you feel clean. His movements feel so comforting, you wish you could live in this moment forever. Once he finishes he goes back to wash off his own hands. You flip yourself over, grabbing your favorite plushy and trying to collect yourself. Sweat has stuck your hair to your forehead and cheek, and you feel like you must look ridiculous. You're still a shaking mess lying naked on your bed, your chest rising and falling in rapid breaths. As he exits your bathroom you look over at Yunho in just his boxers and see how hard he is, his considerable length highly visible. All this time he pleasured you, never asking for anything in return. But you wanted him to. You wanted him to use you, however he pleased. He had given you too much not to get something in return.

"Please, can I suck your cock?" you ask him, the words coming out more as begging than you intended. Yunho is caught off guard, his hand running through his hair halting, his eyes meeting yours.

"Baby.." he trails off, the image of your beautiful lips wrapped around him sending sparks through him. He's deliberately held off seeking his own pleasure from you. He's deliberately avoided getting his dick involved. He doesn't know why, really, but he holds it over himself like some sort of rule. Maybe it's a slight punishment. Maybe he doesn't want to scare you. He's bigger than average and doesn't ever want to hurt you, just because you are so eager.

"Please," you say again, more exasperated. "Please Yunho, I really want to. But only if you want to, of course."

Your words have him questioning his own rule. He realizes his own worry, his own nature of holding back. Why should he with you?

"Okay, come here," he says, helping you sit up and then move off your bed, bringing you over to your bedroom door and sitting you on your knees with your back supported. He's brushing hair out of your face and then leaning down to kiss you again, wanting you to know how much he cares. How he worries. How he needs you to be alright for his own peace of mind. As soon as he pulls away you are reaching for his boxers, pulling them down and watching as his cock springs free, the length and girth of it taking you by surprise. You knew he was big, you could tell from looking at his crotch more times than you were proud of. But seeing it up close was something different. You feel your pussy clench around nothing, your body craving to be filled.

You lean forward and lick his tip, grabbing the base of his shaft with your hand to help guide you. You wrap your lips around it and suck, gently at first and then harder, a feeling of pride swelling in you as you hear him lowly groan. Yunho can't believe this is happening, can't believe he is finally getting to feel the warmth of your sweet mouth on his cock. He is rock hard now, desperate for the pleasure and release he had given you over and over again. You pop your mouth off to lick a stripe up the base of his shaft, coming up to the bottom of his head and tasting the saltiness of a bead of precum that had escaped him. You now settle into a rhythm, moving you mouth as far down on him as you can so he's covered in your spit, using your hand and mouth in tandem to illicit as much pleasure as you can. Yunho is holding himself up by the door behind you, desperately wanting to fuck your mouth, the feeling of your hot tongue on him like nothing he's ever experienced. His right hand comes down to brush your hair out of your face again, so he can see everything, your mouth stuffed full of him and your eyes fluttering open and shut as you bob your head back and forth.

Yunho can't help himself, the pleasure is too great, and suddenly he finds himself thrusting slightly, the tip of his cock grazing the back of your throat and causing you to gag. He's alarmed at his own aggression and pulls back, expecting you to be alarmed too. But instead you pop off of him, and with lust filled eyes look up. "You can fuck my mouth if you want, you know. I'd really like that," you say, in lustful sincerity. Your voice when you're fucked-out is quiet but assured, your mind focused on one thing only. It makes Yunho feel like he could come on the spot. He runs a thumb across your lips and cheeks. "Baby, are you sure?" he asks. You nod. "I promise I'll be very gentle," he says, moving his cock towards your lips again. "You don't have to be," you say right before it enters your mouth again. Your words make Yunho's head spin, and he shakes his head involuntarily, out of disbelief.

He enters your mouth slowly, his large hand holding the back of your head to support you. He starts with shallow thrusts, feeling the warmth and wetness of your tongue along the underside of him, the feeling blissful and enthralling. You are looking up at him, eyes wide and full of excitement, your mind barely able to comprehend that this is really happening. You have imagined this moment many, many times. He thrusts become slightly deeper, his tip reaching almost to the back of your throat now. You breathe through your nose, keeping your mouth as open for him as you can. Finally he hits the back of your throat and moans, causing you to gag and a single tear to form in your left eye. "You okay?" he asks gently, pulling back slightly to let you recover. But you don't want him to stop so you suck on his tip and nod your head up and down, still making eye contact with him. His head falls back at the sight, you nodding at him with his cock still in your mouth. You move forward and gag yourself on him, then lean back slightly and look at look at him with pleading eyes. He takes the hint, moving forward again and finally fucking your mouth in earnest. His thrusts are controlled and deliberate, their speed picking up slowly and consistently. He loves the warmth of your mouth, the tightness of your throat squeezing his tip, the feeling better than anything he could have imagined. He was already so wound up from making you come so much, he's not going to last long. You can feel it, can sense in the way his breathing changes and his body changes, like he's filling with pressure and it needs to be released. Suddenly he's pulling out of you and coming on your face, your open mouth catching some of it. You savor the taste and swallow, licking your lips to find more. He watches the lewd image in front of him and feels like the wind has been knocked from him. And then, as he comes down fully, the feeling like he's done too much hits him.

"Sorry baby, let me go get a towel," he says. You whine, grabbing onto his arm to pull him down, not wanting him to leave just yet. You want him to see the beautiful mess he's made up close. Once he's at eye level you smile, batting your eyes at him. "Oh, so you like that I made a mess of you?" he says, another shake of his head from disbelief. "You are so naughty..." he says, clearly pleased. You giggle and stick your tongue out at him. "You can clean me up now," you say, eyes expectant.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Later that night the two of you lay in your bed, your head on Yunho's shoulder and your legs intertwined with his. The events of the day had left you both sleepy, the feeling enveloping you quickly after you finished your dinner. After some begging Yunho helped you get ready for bed, helping you brush your teeth and get undressed. You felt so hazy you thought you'd fall asleep as soon as you laid down. But once you were settled under the covers with him your mind started wandering, and you were unable to put a stop to it.

"Can I ask you something?" you ask him.

"Of course," Yunho says, through a yawn.

"You know the day you showed up to Mingi's and I was already there, when we both were gonna tell him about us, were you mad at me?"

"No, I wouldn't say mad," Yunho starts. He sighs. "I was just really confused. I had told you earlier I was going to go talk to him, and I thought you would have told me if you were planning to go tell him before me. I thought I was going to be the one to break it to him, the one to bear the brunt of it. I though it would be best because I'm the one he'd probably be mad it, not you. I felt like you telling him first would make him... even more mad at me, I guess?"

You pause for a moment, guilt sinking into your chest painfully.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you I was going to tell him," you say. "I was just really focused that day on the fact that I should tell him first. He's my brother, I felt like I should be the one to do it."

"It's okay," he responds, hugging you tighter. "I"m sorry about what happened that day, that wasn't okay."

"It was Mingi's fault," you say.

"It wouldn't have happened if I just told him sooner that I liked you."

"I could have told him earlier too," you say.

"Baby, stop. You don't need to take responsibility for that mess," Yunho says, comfortingly stroking your cheek. He sighs more deeply now, feeling his own twinges of guilt. "I don't say this to make you feel like I think you're immature or irresponsible, but I think you should know how I truly feel. Given your age and your inexperience, I feel like I need to take responsibility here. I should have approached this whole situation with more care. I should have spoken to Mingi about it sooner, even if I was worried it might mess up our friendship. I should have talked to you directly about how I felt, before I let you sleep over and kissed you and..." he trails off, but you know what he meant to say.

"Before you made me come?" you finish for him. "Can you not even say it out loud now?" you ask, giggling.

"I guess not," he says, embarrassment making his cheeks warm.

"Do you feel like you have to be really careful with me, otherwise I might push you away?" you ask.

"I feel like I have to be careful with you because it's the right thing to do," he answers.

"Is that why you haven't put your dick in me yet?" you ask, the darkness of night making it easy for the words to escape you. Yunho sucks in a sudden breath at your words, at how crass and direct you're being.

"Y/n..." he trails off, and you feel the tenseness of his body.

"Sorry, did that make you uncomfortable?"

"I just really wasn't expect that," he says, collecting himself. In truth your directness turns him on, but he feels a sort of shame about it. "To me you are a very pure person, very good-hearted. Not exactly innocent, given all that you've experienced. But I don't want your first time to be rushed or bad. I realize we've already had sex but... I don't know, it's fucking illogical, I know, but I wanted to wait to do that."

"Yunho, I've already had my first time," you admit, thinking back and cringing at remembering Kim Wonsik, the boy you dated for two months during your final year of high school. He certainly didn't take his time when it came to putting his dick in you. It wasn't the worst first-time experience ever; you had heard several horror stories from other girls in your grade. But it wasn't exactly good, either. You hadn't told almost anyone about the relationship, only Mingi after the whole thing was over. It hadn't been something you wanted to share. You knew the news spread quickly through your school, as every little bit of gossip always did. But to tell Yunho or any of the boys felt so daunting. You felt embarrassed by it at the time; you were questioning your sexuality and scared of anyone knowing, anyone asking questions or pressing too hard. You had liked Wonsik, but not really the way you knew you should. You were just tired of never experiencing anything, and when the opportunity presented itself you decided to try. It was over and done with quickly, and Wonsik never spoke to you again. It all felt embarrassingly clunky and messy, in comparison to everything else in your life. Things like that were easy for you to keep from people, especially at that age when you still lived with your parents and only really thought of how quickly you could move out.

"Oh, I didn't realize," Yunho responds, his head spinning a bit. He would be lying if hearing that didn't elicit some feeling of jealousy from him, but he holds himself back from saying anything that would betray that feeling to you. He knows it's a little hypocritical to feel that way, given that he's been with two girls before you.

"I've dated one boy, and one girl," you admit, everything now just spilling out of you. "I hope that's not an issue for you."

"Of course not baby, not at all," he says, pulling you up so you're laying on top of him. You sigh from relief, letting your body completely relax on top of his.

"You've dated before, right?" you ask. You remember a girl from years ago, maybe even from before the boys debuted. You can't remember the timing exactly, but you vaguely remember a panicked Yunho breaking up with her, knowing that in his early years after debuting things just wouldn't be able to work.

"Yes, there was one girl I dated right before we debuted. And then there was a girl like four years ago now. We dated for a year."

"Are you still in contact with her?" you ask, a little shocked at how long the relationship was and the fact that you never heard of her before. Well, Yunho never knew of your two relationships either, you realize.

"No, things became very tense between us. She never even met any of the members, or my family. We were both very busy, and she struggled with me being an idol and how much I travelled and was gone. It went on longer than it should have, and by the time it ended we weren't on very good terms. I think she ended up moving back to Japan after we broke up, cause her family was from there. I'm not really sure, to be honest. But I haven't spoken to her since then."

"That sounds rough," you say, not sure how else to respond.

"I definitely don't want to repeat that again," he says, squeezing you. "Please tell me if I'm making your life harder. I really, really don't want to do that."

"I promise I would if it ever came to that. But you make my life better and always have, I can't foresee that happening," you say.

"It's hard to know what might happen," he says, wanting to get everything out in the open. "I certainly hope it never comes to that. But if it does, you better tell me."

"Okay, I promise," you say, trying hard not to sound as sarcastic. But he conversation was feeling too serious; you couldn't help how the words slipped out, your mind wishing to ease the intensity of things.

"Are you not taking me seriously?" he asks, moving his hands now to your most ticklish spots.

"No no, I am. I promise," you say, giggling into his shoulder and moving our hands to protect yourself.

"There's something else we need to talk about, too," he says.

"What?"

"If you want me to 'do whatever I want to you,' then we need to talk about it. So I can actually keep you safe." You giggle at his immediate change of subject, him repeating your words from earlier.

"What do we need to talk about?"

"I need to know what stuff is off-limits for you, so I can make sure I don't do anything you don't want. Cause I'm sure there really are things you wouldn't like, even if you don't think there are."

"Okay," you say, somewhat stumped. You haven't really thought about it in detail in all honesty. "Can I think about it?"

"Of course, baby," he says. "Oh, is it okay that I call you baby?"

"Yeah, I like it," you giggle, squirming against him.

"Is there anything else you want me to call you?" You start giggling, too embarrassed to say. "Hmm okay, what about doll?" he asks, and you giggle more. "Okay, what about princess?" you squeak involuntarily, making Yunho laugh. "My princess," he says in a low voice, stroking your hair and making you feel horny all over again. You start rubbing yourself on his thigh, burying your head in his shoulder. You feel a bit shameful about liking these pet names but the shame also feels good, making you feel tingly and warm.

"We need a safe word, too," he says.

"Mmm, let me think," you say, scrunching your face in concentration. "What about... waffles?"

"Waffles?" he repeats, laughing. "Okay, waffles it is."

You both lay quietly for a while, soaking in a processing your conversation, your mind still wandering. You yawn deeply, causing Yunho to yawn too. He plants a kiss on your forehead, now stroking a hand along your back to help put you to sleep. A final thought crosses his mind, something he feels he must say.

"Just so you know, you can always punch or kick me too, if anything I'm doing is hurting you or isn't what you want. If you can't speak for some reason, or you forget to. I want you to do that if you need to."

A tear forms in your eye and falls gently off your cheek onto Yunho's shoulder, and he looks down at you to see another streaming down your face. He reaches over to wipe it off gently, watching your face for any more signs of distress.

"Are you okay?" he asks.

"Yes. It's just, no one cares for me as much as you do."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Taglist: @mingtinysworld @pautiny27 @yoonjikim @ateez-atiny380 @luvleejuyo @soupyjoy @casterole

Love you all <3

#ateez #ateez x reader #ateez yunho #yunho x reader #yunho smut

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arctic-atlantic · 3 days

Text

DnDoc #2 - Reunion

As the Doctor and Ruby dragged Rogue to his feet, his eyes started to water and he lost all sense of depth perception in the transcendent dimensions of the TARDIS. The round things were bobbing up and down across his vision, mixing with little red spots that had probably come from standing up too fast. It was like he was looking out the window of his spaceship at a starscape he was passing, except really really hungover.

Rogue was aware he was considerably taller than the two people dragging him along, so he did his best to put weight on his feet as they led him up to the living quarters. His legs had got him this far; they could get him a little further. It was just that they had buckled as soon as he'd seen the inside of this machine, as soon as the Doctor had come rushing towards him, as soon as he knew that he had finally made it back.

There were words buzzing formlessly around in his mind but every time he tried to get hold of one to start saying something he got a stab of pain behind his eyes and clearly the Doctor could tell because he kept shushing him and telling him firmly not to rush. Finally they got him into a small room with two black leather futons. They had ergonomic curves at the head and the knees so that he wasn't lying completely flat, and the headrest was so soft that his tired neck relaxed and he could concentrate on keeping his eyes open.

The Doctor perched on the other futon, setting the empty water cup on a little end-table between the heads of the two futons.

"Oh hey, I'll refill that," said Ruby. "Pass it here?"

She and the Doctor shared some sort of eye-contact communication as the Doctor handed her the cup. She looked from him to Rogue and back.

"Just want to say, Rogue, I know you sort of did it for him as well but thank you so much for, you know, saving my life. That was amazing." She raised the empty cup as if in a cheers. "So… I'll leave you two to catch up." Then she ducked out of the room and swung the door closed behind her.

Rogue turned his head slightly to the left so that he was actually looking at the Doctor. "Is she trying to wing-woman you or is she actually going to bring me more water?"

"Um… maybe both? She'll probably, you know, dawdle," said the Doctor, pressing his fingertips together a couple of times as he searched for the word.

"Oh good, dawdling is good," said Rogue, enjoying this brief moment of awkwardness from the Doctor. He'd get settled down soon, be smooth as hell. But Rogue remembered how flustered he'd got in the moment when that identifying papers gadget had called Rogue hot, the first second since they'd met where it seemed like the Doctor might have been aware he was not totally in control of the situation. Now that was hot. Of course, then everything had gotten much more dramatic and had almost ended in disaster. That stupid button had almost ruined everything; if anything it had had as much redemption as Rogue himself.

"Rogue? You alright?" the Doctor said. "You're spacing out again."

"Ah, sorry," said Rogue. "It's just been me in my own head for a long time. I am trying to get out of there."

The Doctor leaned forward and stroked his forehead again. Rogue could feel the air prickle on his skin as the Doctor wiped away some sweat, which on the one hand was gross, but on the other hand was a welcome breather.

"So, I was wondering," said the Doctor, holding Rogue's eye contact strongly and calmly now - back in control. "Are there any Chuldur I should be worrying about? Please tell me the trap didn't interpret 'random barren dimension' as Scotland and send them all here."

"I mean the weather is miserable," said Rogue. "But no, I don't think you get this much rainfall in barren dimensions."

"So no Chuldur chasing you?"

"No," said Rogue. "I shook them off immediately. Just ducked out while they were all arguing. Very low DC on that stealth check. There were these like, dry and twisted trees? I don't think any of them had seen a leaf in a millennia, but there were certainly a lot of them and very densely packed. Great cover. So off I went into the forest."

"And you had no idea where you were? No way to get anywhere else?" said the Doctor.

Rogue could hear the concern in his voice, but there was also a suppressed eagerness, a curiosity. So Rogue took a deep breath and, with brief breaks for clearing his throat or spluttering some phlegm into a dish, he told the Doctor his story.

---

If anyone is wondering what the hell I'm talking about with the futons, it's meant to be these:

(Ian and Susan in The Edge of Destruction and Barbara and Vicki in The Web Planet)

---

@off-traveling-in-the-stars @casavanse (let me know at any point if you no longer wish to be tagged in each post)

#doctor who #doctor who spoilers #fanfic #fanfiction #dw spoilers #doctor who rogue

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somewhereincairparavel · 22 hours

Note

Hi!! I was wondering if you could write Jason x daughter of Apollo reader who’s always overworking herself at the infirmary

"You are my sunshine, my only sunshine, you make me happy, when the skies are gray"

author's note: I intended it to be full fluffy but I made it hurt comfort instead, I hope you don't mind <3

Jason hadn't seen you in days…. recently the infirmary was packed with patients, Jason literally being one of the dozens. The apollo healers were at their peak of pressure. You were performing stitches while the others were performing surgeries. After all the chaotic rush cooled down a little, you told Will to take some rest, while you checked off the list of patients that were admitted in your notepad.

That was when Jason stepped inside the infirmary, you didn't even notice until jason vigorously back hugged you.

“What?” You snapped, you were exhausted and didn't really want to see anyone at the moment, not even your boyfriend. Jason pulled out a bouquet of sunflowers, smiling brightly while giving them to you. What a sweetheart.

Unfortunately, you had too much coffee and that made you cranky.

“thanks. Put them in the vase.” You said, not taking your eyes off of your notepad while aloofly gesturing to the empty vase on your desk.

You felt Jason frown genuinely. He put the flowers inside the vase as you asked him too, which you did albeit a little coldly. But he knew you were stressed out, so he didn't think much of it. He put a hand on your shoulder gently and moved closer to whisper in your ear.

“sunshine, don't you think you should be taking a break? You look exhausted and you didn't show up to dinner yesterday, have you even eaten? Be honest please” he asked in concern

You always loved Jason's worried mom behavior because you thought it was endearing, but today, the pressure levels of the past few days, witnessing your siblings in distress because they failed to save one patient, watching fellow campers in physical pain, just got too much, that you snapped.

“I am FINE Jason! Just because I didn't show up yesterday does not mean I didn't eat. Have you considered the possibility that I had food sent to me over here in the infirmary? Gosh.. can't you see I'm busy? Why are you so overbearing? Leave me alone, please.” you regretted your words the moment they spilled out. Jason looked like a kicked puppy, as a flash of hurt went through his eyes. But they disappeared almost immediately as his eyes were replaced with steely coldness.

“I was just checking on you, babe. because I was worried.....tell me how many of your friends have actually come in to see how you were, the past week?” He asked, with a dangerously calm and steady voice, staring at you deeply while making a very fair point. That's what happens when you were raised in the most unemotional camp ever. You switch back to your old ways.

You looked at him a little stunned, and were unable to respond to his question. Because you had no answer. Nobody apart from your siblings had come to check on you, up until Jason arrived.

“Exactly. So if you think that me caring about my girlfriend’s health and being worried about her is “overbearing” then fine. If you continue to push me away when I clearly mean well, then so be it. I hope you like the flowers, and please, for the love of god, get some rest. We'll talk when you're feeling less mad” he added.

But this time, you could've sworn that his voice was shaky and that broke you. You had never said mean stuff to him like this before, and this time, it had clearly affected him. He had done nothing but be sweet to you. Even now, he was talking you calmly without telling at your outburst.

You watched miserably as Jason walked out of the infirmary. Tears slipped out of your eyes as you reached your breaking point of the week. You had officially pushed away the one person who loves you more than anything. Simply because you were stubborn to hear him out.

It was currently 1:00 AM, and you finally collected yourself to go apologize to Jason. You needed to fix what you broke before it was too late. You found yourself staring at the flowers he'd oh so happily given you before you ruined his mood.

You tentatively stepped into his cabin, trying to make as less noise as possible. You couldn't wait until morning for this, you missed him to death. Jason was sleeping quietly, he was never the one for snoring, he wasn't a deep sleeper either, so every time you had even accidentally brushed against him, he'd wake up with a jolt.

You gently got into his bed, and wrapped your arms around him from behind while burying your face into his hair. This time though, he didn't wake up with an alert jolt. Instead, he took your hands and tightened your grip around himself.

“You're awake?” You whispered to him curiously.

“Well, what do you think?” Jason whispered back, the smile in his voice evident. He turned around to face you, and you held his cheeks with both your hands, softly stroking them. He was staring at you, this time, any trace of coldness had vanished. You took a few seconds to admire his gorgeous eyes before you spoke.

“Jason… I'm sorry… I didn't mean anything I said. I really didn't.. I was just feeling cranky about how shitty my week had been, and I shouldn't have taken it out on you.. I had no right, especially not when you were so sweet abou-” you were cut off with his lips pressing on yours.

“That's okay, love. I know you didn't mean it, I just wanted to give you space to think everything through. I was never mad. Just upset that you were overworking yourself too much.” he replied after pulling away.

You teared up again.

“I love you so much.” You said, pressing your forehead onto his. He smiled brightly.

“I love you too. Now, do you want to talk about how you've been feeling? You need it, Let it out babe. I'm always here.”

Both of you spent the rest of the night, talking about each other's feelings and cuddling. Jason felt fulfilled as he saw you peacefully napping, getting the rest you deserve.

“Sweet dreams, sunshine.” He whispered, kissing your hair.

#pjo #pjo fandom #percy jackson #pjo series #jason grace #pjo hoo #pjo x you #pjo x y/n #pjo x reader #percy jackson x y/n #percy jackson x you #percy jackson x reader #jason grace x y/n #jason grace x you #jason grace x reader #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo hoo toa #heroes of olympus

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shroomies-world · 3 days

Text

Why I hate Fathers Day.

Alright guys. This is like.. a very serious post. Like almost one of these rant posts I have to make. I wrote this on May 24th so I can wait for this day in particular (Sunday 16th, 2024.) This post will prolly be really long which most likely be. And like half of you guys knows this but I have daddy issues but what yall prolly dont know is that I absolutely hate fathers day. This post will explain everything. My childhood with him, why and the pain of the aftermath. This is gonna be about my struggles of this, my hatred of Fathers Day and my irl father. I feel ashamed of posting this ESPECIALLY on this blog. But I do trust alot of ppl. Including my besti's/close friends.

NOTE: Like I said this will be long but I appreciate it if you guys just read this, because it means alot. This is a VERY HARD TOPIC for me to talk abt. There will be mentions of abuse but no SA. Also when I put the red messages it's most likely my anger, envy and pain talking so please don't take it to heart. This is prolly the most healthiest thing I could do, otherwise I would've lost my sanity and just be an asshole the whole day to my mom, irl friends and online friends and I do not want that. Anywhos.. yeah. Thank You. I apologize if there's any errors in the texts.

The first half of the he/hims/his will be red and a line thru it and you'd know the rest as you read.

His actions and mannerisms.

When I was about 3 years old, my mother wanted to divorce my father because she wanted to be just friends with him. This will be important so keep that in mind while reading. So way back then when I was young. I was a.. guess you could say is 'nice and gentle' kid. I was shy and very imitated yet I pushed and be out my bubble. And that happens alot around my father. My father isn't the brightest tool in the shed. He is mostly very brass, arrogant, loud and aggressive. And I would be very close to my dad at a young age and I would just be thinking "Oh he's just cranky over work" and blah blah blah. But he's just naturally like that for no reason.

He would constantly break my boundaries and just ignore the fact it made me feel uncomfortable and he wouldn't cave in his actions.

He would get upset and rude when I don't like or understand his joking mannerisms or jokes. (Because of my autism.) And he would be like "I was just playing." "Don't whine about it child." And it would just sound.. so annoyed, angry and disappointment. Probably due to the fact my autism blocked out those "expected mannerisms" and just made me uncomfortable. But again. I brushed it off because I was young at the time and I was very naively innocent. I didn't mind him breaking my boundaries by trying to "playfully" hurt me. He would just think I'm being a crybaby and a sensitive brat.

His voice is just naturally loud and aggressive and I would get upset but I quickly mask it so it wouldn't sadden my father. But sometimes I do break the mask and get bothered and he will ask me "What's wrong, child?" And yes. He does call me "child" I don't know why. I don't know what made him to call me that. If he did told me why, I probaby just forgot. He would just get upset with me either the jokes, body language or just something random. I would sometimes be scared of him yelling at me because I was and still am a sensitive. My heart would race, there would be hot invisible flames on my shoulders and such. It didn't really happen when I was younger younger but I would probably say around 7 to 14. I would get scared when he's aggressive and mean. Again he's brass which is a term for arrogance or loudness so that's normal. Yet I had a feeling it wasn't really normal.

It wouldn't be just that, it would just be like random gaslighting or manipulation. His words would make me feel like shit, feel bad and take the blame.

I sometimes wish I wasn't autistic and I would be perfect so my father would like me more but no. I had to be born with this fucking condition I have.

The abuse.

The abuse would mostly be verbal, mental and emotional. It would hurt the most than the physical. While physically it would hurt but emotionally, mentally and verbally would hurt way more coming from my dad. However my father has never SA'd me which thank god.

He would just bully and tease me and just brush it off because it was "a joke" and just expect me not to take it to heart. However it is very hard for a kid to do that especially if they have autism. By the way I do not know if he knows or doesn't know if my mom told him I am autistic. I think my mom said "He does know but he is just ignorant like that." And stuff. Which is not far. It is true because he is ignorant about the shit he says and the action he does.

He sometimes threats me alot. But one time at KFC I was with my younger half brother. (My three half brothers has the same dad but different moms.) with my father. He said something like "If you don't quit it I'll give you the chops." And the cashier was speechless. She was shocked. Appalled. Thinking "What father would say that to their kids?" What are the chops? Easy answer. They are a technique that my father does, it's a karate chop to the throat. He doesn't do it hard but he doesn't be gentle with it either. It would bother me and I hated it. He did it to my mother and she would also hated/disliked it.

The chops still haunts me to this day. I cannot think about him otherwise I will imagine a noose around my neck and it's tightening my airway, preventing me to breathe. My father has done that so much so yeah it's hard to get rid of that feeling.

That's just the tip of the shit I have dealt with him.

Accidents.

When I accidently hurt my younger half brother I was scared that my father would come up and hurt me because of a accidental play. He gets like that all the time with be yet gets mad at me when I accidently hurt my young brother? Yeah it was a fucking hellhouse.

I would feel like I would get screamed or yelled at by my own father over something so small yet so big to him. I didn't understand why and I STILL don't know why.

However me and him does have decent moments together but unfortunately there was such little memories yet big painful flashbacks. It's very painful to look back.

My father most of the time would act like he did nothing wrong and pretend I am just acting up however it was just HIM. Not ME.

Such a fucking idiot he is. How did he even pulled my mother??

The Car Incident.

I remember either at 12, 13 or 14 (I'm not really sure when but Im sure its around those ages) I was alone in the car with him on a highway. Y'know those roads that be in the air and such? Yeah. Those. (I'm not sure if it's called a highway or a speedway. Prolly the same Ig.) I was probably talking about how I would be nervous behind a wheel. Even if it's a go-kart. I always get a fear something would happen. An accident, injury or worse. So after a little conversation, my father decided to LET GO OF THE STEERING WHEEL and have ME take IT. I have no idea why he did it. Probably just to get me to face my fears or whatever but letting go of the wheel without any sign or warning is not very smart to do.

During the wheel turning I was nervous and I was scared. I wanted to crash the car for some reason but I didn't. It would've been traumatic for me if I did end up crashing to another car or a wall. And when I said "Take the wheel back" he said something like "You're fine" or "Just turn the wheel child." And when I let go. He didn't out his hands on the wheel. I soon put my hands back on the wheel to be steady and hoping I wouldn't crash the car on purpose. I still don't know why I wanted to crash. It had to be some type of a response of something. After tons of pleas, he finally got his fucking hands on the wheel. Taking it. I think he even called me a "crybaby" or something related to those lines. Now as I may be older, I still have a fear of crashing the car, something happening on the road etc. It's really sad honestly because I really wanna drive without having that constant memory and fear of crashing the car and end up hurting me and other pedestrians/bystanders.

The Homophobic Comment(?)

This one is still a theory of "did he say this or am I just bullshitting?" And I still don't know about it. I am still including this. When me and one of my cousins was outside and hanging out. And like a week or so ago I told him I was Bisexual on text one time. He said something however I didn't hear him. And I swore on my life I heard him say "You're bisexual yet you can't listen?" or whatever that last part was. I swore I heard it. I asked my cousin if he heard it too and he was like "Yeah I think so too." And I had a breakdown the next day and my mom texted my father and my father denied it.

Build-A-Bear.

I went to build-a-bear once with my father and it was fun... but the second time he promised to take me to Build-A-Bear with my oldest half brother. I was waiting. And waiting. And waiting. I was crying because he didn't take me. One time when my oldest half brother was taking me to the orthodontist I asked him what happend when he was suppose to take me to build-a-bear with you and he replied "I tried to wake him up and say 'Dad come on we gotta get ____ to take her to build-a-bear' and he didn't get out of bed. He continued to sleep." (This was before I was trans and all that.) and I was disappointed to hear that. I gotten ready and excited to bond with my oldest half brother and father at build-a-bear however I was never taken there because my father was ASLEEP. I would've have a build-a-bear plushie of my eldest half brothers voice in it as well.

Offically Hated Fathers Day. (At age 15/14 I believe.)

This is where I didn't like fathers day anymore. On fathers day, I was with my father, my younger half brother and my oldest half brother was at IHop to have breakfast together. (My other half brother is in the military.) However in a conversation with my oldest half brother I was telling him that I was taking pills for my depression (My depression soon started when I was either 10 or 11 years old.) and my father soon butted in and said "Oh you don't need those depression pills, you have me and you have your family. You have nothing to be depressed about." And he said it in a loud manner. I was surprised that the people didn't make comments or turn their heads at our table. I was then belittled by my father again. And again. For no reason. He really doesn't care what he says. After breakfsst I wanted my older half brother to take me home (he knew my address.) and I felt alot more safer with my older half brother because he is more soft and gentle than our father. But he couldn't because he had something to do like go to work or whatever. My father drove my younger half brother first or last (I couldn't remember) but when he drove me home he expected me to give him a hug and I gave him that side hug with one arm around him and he was like "What's wrong? Why are you not hugging me??" And I was scared when he noticed that. (I remembered that he wanted to go inside but I can't fully remember.) I bluffed out and he got in his car and left. After he left.

I went inside and my mom was concerned of what happened. I than broke down and started to cry and sob. I told her what happend and my first dog Simba was comforting me and sniffing/licking me as a sign of comfort and I couldn't stop crying. For the rest of the day I felt like I was in emotional pain which I was. And I believe in the next day I was crying again and I was on call with one of my online friends and it was horrible. I was a mess. In a deep and hysterical mess. I offically hated fathers day and I hate it with a burning passion.

Chances.

I gave my father so many chances. More and more because I loved my father. (or so I thought.) and he continued to ruin or break them. I forgave him of not taking me to build-a-bear, I forgave him of not arriving at one of the singing nights I had during choir at during middle school. (I forgot what those where called.) and I forgave him about the shit he has done to me. And I had take it all back of my realization.

The Divorce.

Rememeber where I said my mom divorced my dad and wanted to be friends since I was 3? Well he really didn't visit me much. Sometimes he would but it be so little. And I sometimes would come to his house and it would be dirty. Not like a hoarder like dirty but it was still dirty. Anyways, his visits aren't very frequent which lead me to have more memories of my mom than my own father. He was very much a deadbeat. He didn't come when he promised and it was very upsetting.

Aftermath of the abuse.

Mostly during 16 and 17 of my age I was struggling with daddy issues and very much of "I wanted this I wanted that" and so much so. I began to have fictional characters as father figures. I began to look at a certain older male character and have them as a father figure. (My most popular; Stanford Pines from Gravity Falls.) But my seventeenth years has been... probably been worse. I'm being real here but I have to say this; I cannot look at a silver fox (it's a term for older men who are 'attractive' term . Grayish hair, 5 o'clock shadow, muscular figure etc.) for too long otherwise I would want them to be a better replacement for my father. One time at a dog park, with me, my mom and Olive, we met this guy and his dogs. He looked like he was single and such. I jokingly said that he and my mom should be on a date but unfortunately he was married. 30 minutes or so we took a ride home from the dog park and my mom wasn't happy about me making that comment. And I was upset when I heard he was married as well. It's that bad where I can't look at a normal guy without my brain wanting me to beg him to be my NEW father to replace me for comfort, protection and give me the fatherly love that my biological father had failed to give me.

My mother didn't really have much of a say in it because she didn't grow up with my grandpa being abusive to her.

It was also an unwanted response when I wanted someone to play as a fictional father figure either as Mark from EddsWorld, Ford from Gravity Falls or Doc Ock from SpiderMan. It's always either that or the fact I would get attached to someones OC without having my sona be with them and have them as the Oc's "younger brother or "adopted/foster son". I always felt bad afterwards because of my stupid fucking brain. It's another way for me to cope because I didn't have a step-father. My mom used to date a long time ago until she stopped. I don't know why but I wished she was dating one of the guys that me and her liked.

I basically get attached to an older male that looks fatherly to me and it's very annoying that my brain does this. It's a fucking weak excuse of a coping mechanism I'll say.

I have talked about the abuse and the issues to my school councilor and she had comforted me when I was crying about the car incident because It is still hard for me to talk about.

The Duplex House.

My father had a duplex house and it was dirty. Some dirty dishes and some dirty walls. I didn't like the place because it was filthy and just horrible. Whenever me and my younger brother where over at his duplex house we would all have to share the bed. Yes. All three of us. It was... uncomfy to say the least.

The Smoking and The Car.

He would unapologetically smoke several times in the car. It would be either a cigar or a damn cigarette. I recall he would something blew smoke my face one time but it's still a blur in my brain. So uh yeah I hate the smell of Cigarettes and Cigars because of him. It remind me of him and I don't like it.

The Comfort RolePlays.

Another thing. Whenever I am having a rowdy upset mood about my daddy issues I immediately want someone to play as Ford and do a cheer up/comfort rp with me until I felt better. To this day I have this urge to do so. Yet I keep it in because mostly my friends are busy. I hate it that I think I want this everytime I get upset about my father. It makes me feel like a burden and a leech. And I mostly do it on AI so I wouldn't bother them alot like in my sixteenth age. And apparently I didn't told my mom about the car thing because she has no memory of me telling her that. When I was 16. I would use a A.I chat bot to keep me busy but I just hate using it sometimes because the replies are not what I wanted.

The Painful Memories.

The wholesome and normal memories are the most painful thing to remember from an abusive parent.

💔 The most cherished memory I had was with my younger half brother and my father and we on some occasions fed ducks.. it was short yet sweet. I enjoyed feeding the ducks. It was a good memory yet it had to be from the person I despised the most.

💔 So wanna know how or why I am super excited about 'This Little Piggy?' Yeah. Uh. My father sometimes did that when I was younger. This hurts me the most to talk about this one. No idea why. And now y'all know why I prefer males or a fatherly fucking role doing it.

💔 The playground where me and my younger half brother would be pretending to be pirates and our father would've been a villain pirate or whatever.

These memories hurt and do much to look back on. I am hurting from those memories. It makes me wanna choke them up.

The Nightmares.

(From 6:47 AM: This is a more recent edit but I didnt put it in the edits at the near end because this deserves its own section.)

Sometimes in my dreams I would dream of my father either trying to get me or even trying to torment me/hurt me. I DEADASS HAD A FUCKING NIGHTMARE JUST LAST NIGHT AND I CANT EVEN BARE THE NIGHTMARES BECAUSE IM THAT FUCKING VULNERABLE. I am AFRAID that my fucking FAILURE OF A FATHER is going to get me IN REAL LIFE.

THE AMOUND OF PARANOIA I GET JUST FOR THINKING ABT HIM OR EVEN REPLAYING HIS LAUGH OR VOICE IN MY HEAD. MY BRAIN WILL MAKE ME THINK THE STUPIDEST SHIT EVER.

it made me think my father would come over yesterday of me and my girlfriends anniversary of dating. IF THAT MAN EVER CAME NEAR MY GIRLFRIEND... istfg he would've been on the floor..

The jealousy.

I would have such anger and jealousy because someone has a good dad or even having a dad at all. It doesn't matter if it's irl, online and such. I will be pissy and angry saying shit like "At least you have a dad." And not really caring for the "parts of why they dont like their dad". It still gives me the ick however I can still get jealousy thoughts and be like "I wish that was me. Not them. They don't deserve it. I deserve a good dad. It's not fair."

It's so toxic yet it's very reasonable as if why. I was robbed out of a father. And childhood of a failed father.

Anything else.

Well a few months ago I ranted about my mom about me being angry that I was angry and stressed and lonely because of my daddy issues. She told me I could talk to my father and tell him how I felt through the years. Which I replied with "How could I talk to him after the shit I've been through with that man? He has caused me trauma and I didn't have any fathers. The other people around me do have fathers and it is not fair and I can't helo but feel alone without the father love that I crave." And I ended up crying and she apologized of how much pain I was dealing with. Now she did promise me she would be going on a website to find an attractive man she likes and surprise surprise she also likes silver foxes. We both have the same taste lol. But yeah Idk when she'll go on some sites that has those particular men but it's obviously gonna be near her area/town/state we live in. My mom isn't rlly stupid and I ain't either.

It is rumored or stated that he has bipolar. It ran in his family and I wanted to know and get tested to see if I also have bipolar. It mostly came from his dad. Which is ironic.

I do not care if my father has changed, I don't care if my father has matured, I don't care if he even feels bad now. I AM NOT GOING NEAR THAT MAN.

Also uhhh... btw my irl fathers name is Randy and he bald. So uh.. I don't like bald men and I don't like the name Randy. (Apologies to people who are bald and named Randy.)

I'm always scared I am not gonna have a father figure when my mom passes later on in life. But I did heard about a surrogated father (like a foster father or something like that.) But for some reason I wanted my mom to date a male so I can get close with that said male. But yeah I hope I can get a father figure sometime soon. It depends. I am healing slowley but I am getting better but sometimes I will have my little outbreaks. Jesus christ my hands hurt from holding and writing on this damn phone.

Edit #1 on: 2:57 June 3rd, Monday.

I think I forgot to mention that in a server once, I was ridiculed and made fun of for hating Fathers Day and they made a reply saying "I have a father and you don't?" Which I wanted to say such horrible things to that guy but I didn't. Passed words can hurt. If you think it's funny to mock peoples pain.. please do better. You're doing more worse than good. But lemme tell you something. If you even dare to try to make fun of me or mock me about the shit I went through, I'll do the same right back at you. I won't feel bad.

Edit #2 on: 11:32 June 9th, Sunday.

He had shown me a video of a monkey having its head bashed in and its brains were eaten by the two diners, it was from a film but I was still young, idk why he would show me that in the first place. My cousins watched it too and they were YOUNGER than me. I was getting emotional and upset and I hid mostly in my moms room as my cousins followed me. Idk why he would show me that. Ik the scene was fake and stuff but why would a grown ass man would show their kid a video of a monkey getting bashed in the head by a hammer? Like jesus fucking christ.

Edit #3 on: 2:02 PM June 11th, Tuesday.

I would have some nightmares about my father appearing in my dreams and just… trying to get to me and I would be visibly afraid of him because I am afraid of him. The dreams would make me feel more shitty and I would try not to blame myself for feeling like this because of my own fathers shitty parenting.

Thank you so much for reading. It wasn't fun writing this and it took about from 9:29 PM to 12:09 AM to finish writing this. Please spread this around and awareness about parental abuse. You are valid even if it's not sexual or physical. Sexual and physical isn't always the only thing to be a victim about. You're Valid. ♥︎

- Shroomie/Liam.

#shroomiesworld #fathers day #fuck fathers day #daddy issues #i wish my father was good #why did he do this to me #vent post #fuck this holiday.#fuck you Randy.#shroomiesrants

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homomenhommes · 3 days

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STORY: The Dreams

I woke up screaming from a nightmare. I dove for the lamp and clicked it on, sending vicious light lances into my eyes. Thankfully, the pain cleared my head. I sat and swore for a while, until the anger faded and I was left with an aching melancholia. I looked at the little red '1:45 AM' on the clock, threw the blankets aside, got up and got dressed. That was it. No more trying to force myself to sleep and ending up in the hell of my imagination and memories. I went out, and walked. I lived in the center of a big city, and even at that hour there was a lot available to do. Should one desire to do any of it. All the sex screaming at me from all sides was for straight sex, which didn't interest me. I went into an adult bookstore, wandered through the gay section, and discovered nothing in there interested me either. Shit, I thought to myself. You're fucking hopeless. I found an open coffee shop and went in.

The waitress was sitting down in a back booth having a break, so the cook came out to wait on me at the counter, wiping his hands on a towel. I just stared at him. Short jet-black hair, huge pin-you-to-the-wall brown eyes, face flushed pink from the heat of the kitchen, and a muscular body packed into a white T-shirt and faded jeans. 'May I help you?' he asked in a soft, intelligent voice. I thought of a thousand things he could do to help me, none of which were likely to be on the menu. Finally, I managed to croak out 'Coffee'. He nodded politely, set me up with a cup and saucer, then swung the pot to fill me cup. I stared at the muscles in his arm. He had a very small rose tattoo on his forearm. I admired it a little too much, blushed, thanked him for the coffee and stared at his ass as he walked away. My cock ached and strained to get out of my pants to follow him.

I watched him through the little window as he worked in the kitchen. Occasionally, he looked up and smiled at me. I tried not to sigh happily when he did that. I don't think I succeeded. After who knows how long a time, another cook came bursting through the door. 'Thanks, Recon,' he gasped. 'I really owe you.'

My dark eyed fantasy merely nodded and smiled. He vanished for a minute, then came out to the counter wearing a battered denim jacket. He stopped in front of me and smiled gently. 'There's a film I want to see down the street. Would you like to come?' I goggled at him, I know damn well I did, then nodded so happily my head nearly came off. We walked out into the night together. 'Recon?' I finally asked gently. 'I was a Marine,' he said, with a nostalgic pride. 'Force Recon.' Oh, I thought. 'I'm a kind of a wussy accountant,' I said stupidly. He threw his head back and laughed, a sound that came up from deep inside him. 'Then I'll protect you,' he managed to gasp, wiping his eyes. I giggled. Never in my entire fucking life have I giggled, but I picked that moment to start. He stopped at a small art theater and bought two tickets. It was a beautifully filmed piece about the triumph of the love of...two men. I laughed, I cried, I tried very hard not to come in my pants when Recon laced his fingers through mine and held my hand.

He walked around my apartment, admiring the architecture with a wineglass in his hand. I raided the kitchen, trying to throw together something halfway decent to eat. I assembled some things on a platter, put them on the coffee table, and sat. He came and sat beside me, put his wineglass down carefully, turned to me with smoldering eyes and rapid, shallow breaths, took me in my arms and kissed me. Hungry. That's the only word for his kiss. One arm tightened around me, his other hand gripped my jaw as his mouth worked on mine, his tongue thrusting in deep, then flicking at mine to urge it into his mouth. His strength was very, very evident, and for one moment a thrill of fear went through me. He could do anything he wanted to me, and I'd be powerless to stop him. His hand slid down to gently close around my throat and the thrill increased. My cock hurt, it was so hard. I could hear myself making very unfamiliar sounds. Soft, helplessly aroused whimpers. His kiss became demanding and his hand slid down my chest. He began to unbutton my shirt, fingers moving carefully but rapidly. His mouth slid off mine and went to my throat, and his teeth gently nipped at me. 'Jeff,' he murmured. My back arched at this sound. A dark, possessive sound. His fingers found my right nipple, and he pinched and pulled at it. I felt it tighten and grow erect, and trembled for his mouth. He leaned down, flicked it with his tongue, then sucked it so hard my toes curled. I lay back and let him work my nipples until they twitched. His mouth slid down, and he tongue-fucked my navel. He braced a forearm against my chest, and one over my thighs as he stabbed his tongue into my navel, hard, fast and deep. I recognized it for the symbolic act that it was, and lay submissively and moaned. He undressed me carefully, openly smiling his approval at my body, occasionally flicking the burning eyes at me with an enigmatic smile.

I sat naked, spread out on the couch, with him, fully clothed, kneeling between my knees, toying with my hard shaft with a gentle finger. He slide the tip up one side and down the other, gently encircling the tip, spreading my precum around. 'Do you know what a 'safe word' is?' he asked quietly. I blinked. The term was familiar, but not enough for me to place it. He smiled gently. 'It's the word you say when I go too far. Get carried away. Give you more than you want or can handle. You have the needs, and I will fulfill them. That's what this is about. Fulfilled needs. All I want at this moment is to pleasure you the way you need it, in that silent place inside you. I will pleasure myself. But I will cause you no harm. Use this word when you want it to stop. Saying 'stop' will have no effect. The word 'constellation' will. Do you understand?'

I didn't have a clue as to what was happening to me, but I nodded. 'Constellation,' I repeated. He nodded, and stood. 'Good, pet. Crawl on your hands and knees into the bedroom. Now.' I got down on my hands and knees, feeling a little silly, until I saw the look on his face. He was burning with lust for me as he watched me. Something cracked open inside of me, and buried feelings fought their way to the surface. I crawled for him, my cock twitching and dripping precum all over the rug. When I knew he was staring at my ass, I wiggled it for him, and he gasped sharply.

In the bedroom, he had me kneel, then sit back on my heels, knees spread, my hands behind my neck, my elbows out straight. 'This is the position of submission,' he said softly. 'This demonstrates your complete submission to me. I do not like the words 'master' and 'slave'. You are my pet, and I will address you by name. You will be allowed to address me by my name.' He bent and stroked my cheek. 'I will give you release, pet.' He undressed calmly, staring at me, as I knelt before him, my pole hard and begging. He folded the covers back neatly on the bed, then searched my room. He collected a few ugly ties I had stuck in the back of the closet, a couple of my belts, and some things I had stuck in a drawer: tube of lubricant, a vibrator, and a large dildo. I trembled as he laid out his finds neatly on the bed. He vanished for a second, then came back with a bowl of water. He set it carefully down on the floor and looked at me. 'This is a symbol of your submission to me, given freely. When we are together like this, you will drink only from the bowl. Drink now.' I crawled forward on my hands and knees, lowered my face to the water and lapped it up. He crouched beside me and stroked my back as I slurped up the water. His touch was tender and loving. I trembled as I slurped up the water. I whimpered, and he murmured to me. 'Hush, pet. I'll take care of you. I'll give you release.' I have never been as aroused as I was at that moment.

He ordered me to crawl around the room and perform for him as he watched. I did so, breathless that he watched me. I glanced up at him once, and his eyes were locked on me, his cock swollen and thrusting. 'Good pet,' he murmured at me. He had me stop in the middle of the floor, lower my head and thrust up my ass. He knelt beside me, ran a hand over my ass, then spanked me. I flinched at first, as the repeated smacks of his hand were painful, but relaxed as the sensation changed. I felt the pain, but I also felt incredible arousal and an odd sense of relief. When he stopped, I sighed, and he rubbed his fingertips over my ass cheeks. 'So warm and rosy,' he whispered. 'Lovely.' The skin of my ass felt like silk as he rubbed it. He ordered me up onto the bed.

I scrambled up, staying on my hands and knees. He tied my ankles together with one of the ties. The bonds were tight. He lay me on my back, then tied each arm to a corner of the bed. I stared up at his composed face. He left the room, and came back with a bowl of ice, a white candle and matches. He took an ice cube and rubbed it over my right nipple. I gasped, back arching and felt the nipple tighten to attention. He rubbed the ice in a figure 8, getting both nipples hard, sending melting ice water sliding all over me. It was torture, but I loved it. He was so calm about doing it. He slid ice over me until my entire chest and belly were cold and wet. Then he lit the white candle and held it over me, staring at the flame. I felt like part of some strange, pagan ritual and my balls tightened. He tilted the candle slightly, and I stared at the droplet of wax that formed at the side, hanging there briefly before it descended rapidly to hit my right nipple. I reacted with shock to the tiny, hot pain, then my entire being flushed with pleasure. The candle was so beautiful as it dropped its precum on me. He was so composed, smiling slightly in complete enjoyment of what he was doing to me. He continued to let drops of wax fall all over my chest and belly. I lurched each time a drop landed, groaning, then stared up at the flame lusting for more. The last drop landed in my belly button and I shrieked and rose up off the bed, struggling against my bonds. He calmed me by stroking my thigh, calling me his 'good pet, his wonderful pet.' I whimpered at him, and he shushed me gently.

'The fist time, pet. Just the first time. There will be plenty of time for you to be trained to enjoy so many things. I will give you such incredible release, pet. I promise.' He got the dildo, vibrator and the tube of jelly, then pushed my bound legs up. He worked the slick dildo into my ass. Incredible pleasure/pain, made a hundred times better by knowing his eyes were fastened on the phallus as it took me. 'In and out,' he said quietly, and fucked my ass hard with the dildo. 'In and out.' He rammed it in hard, his fist slamming into my ass with each down stroke. I was thinking about using the word when he stopped and carefully lowered my legs, leaving the dildo inside of me. My pucker felt stretched open, and I swear I could feel every inch of the thing inside me. He took the vibrator, coated it, then turned it on. He used the vibrator on my hard cock and balls, occasionally sticking it down between my legs to hold it against the end of the dildo. I lay, spasming helplessly, until I couldn't take any more, and began to cum. My cock shot out long white streams that splattered all over my chest. When my head cleared, I looked at him. He sat quietly, smiling at me, his chest covered with his own cum. His cock had erupted just from causing and viewing my orgasm.

I don't have nightmares anymore. Sometimes I still wake up in the middle of the night, but its because he's rubbing his hardon against me in his sleep.

by Morgan Grayson

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wavesoutbeingtossed · 2 months

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some days the "fire off missiles because you hate yourself but do you know you're demolishing me" and "let all your damage damage me" and "I gave you all my best mes, my endless empathy" and "in the shade of how he was living" and "how much sad did you think I had in me?" just really fucking hit 😵‍💫🥴

#this is why no matter what taylor ever does I am going to stan her #because she's put into words what it's like living with a person who is so consumed by their own shit they take everyone down with them #and how utterly painful and crushing it is #(I'm not talking about anyone here -- you guys are all lovely and I send you so much love for anything you're struggling with)#(it's the 'firing off missiles' bit and reacting to everything with anger/resentment/making sure everyone feels as upset as they are thing)#(honestly I could not thank taylor enough for ever putting that into words and translating how that feels into music)#(and why I am always going to be 100% empathetic to what she was going through with Joe because it's just so fucking hard #to try to not only manage your own feelings but have to manage the feelings of a loved one because they're too immature/unaware #to manage it themselves so you have to dance around it and like fucking regulate for them sometimes)#ugh sorry just having A Day

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scorchedhearth · 2 years

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trying to find canon stories or fanwork that touches upon guy's TBI is like walking through a baren wasteland. most barely acknowledge it, and when they do it's just a one-liner or for a joke which. You Know.

#i'd rather they dont talk about it at all instead of mocking it #to the few writers who did put work into writing good fics about it: i am kissing you on the mouth and with tongue thank u for ur service #it's this balance between valid reactions of other characters (wow this guy is a huge jerk get him away from me/i used to know a different #guy and this is painful for me to see him changed and trying to accept this new personaltiy + disabilities) vs guy's own thoughts (i just s #suffered a big injury that took off years of life + hard work i put in bettering myself and set me back on many skills i used to know which #is deeply unfair and hard/i now have to learn how to live with a new personality + deal with the fact that i am now angry erratic and have #trouble with cognitive functions which is outside of my control/dealing with other's expectations and prejudices against me and my injury)#+ the way some storylines treat this as a joke. oh guy is so dumb he doesn't know big words when its just deeply sad and upsetting that som #someone with diplomas and education lost those abilities due to something entirely not his fault

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sinofwriting · 2 months

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I ❤️ MILFS - Max Verstappen

Words: 9,747 Summary: Max wasn’t too sure who the woman was that was always with Logan, but he was sure that he wanted to get to know her. Note(s): Sargeant Reader, Age Gap, Older!Reader, Logan and Oscar are both 20 during the 2023 season, not 22. The 2023 driver standings are different (I am giving Logan the season he should have had). Reader has the nickname Pan (short for momma panther). Logan is sweetheart, Max is head over heels in love. I’m gonna be honest I never thought this fic would get written or finished. I got the idea for it back in December but only started writing it on March 16th. And it would have never happened without @burningcupcakefire & @pucksandpower. Thank you both so much for all your help. (also if anyone wants to see more of Max and Pan, let me know)

Taglist | Masterlist | Emergency Dental Fund

Max remembers the announcement of Oscar’s arrival to F1, the drama and hilarity of it. Sometimes he sees the kids name and has to stop himself from laughing. No nineteen-year-old had any business being that funny.

Max doesn’t remember much of Logan’s announcement to F1. Only that he was young as well, being the first American in forever, and Williams' quick admission that they hadn’t wanted to sign, had wanted to wait another year.

He wishes now that he had paid more attention.

There’s a woman standing in the William’s garage, on Logan’s side. She’s clearly there for him, with the similar pass that his trainer has around her neck, and the way her eyes intently follow Logan’s movements around the garage as he talks to the mechanics and engineers.

She also happens to be the most beautiful woman Max has ever seen.

—

She can’t help but clutch at Benny’s arm the whole race, terror gripping her along with pride.

Benny chuckles when the race comes to an end, Logan doing his cooldown lap and she finally lets go. “And just think you’ve got over twenty more races of this.” Her nose wrinkle and a hand goes over her heart that’s thudding. “Please, Benny.” He chuckles again but pats her shoulder. “You’ve got this.” “Not gonna tell me it gets easier?” He snorts. “No. This is far worse than F2 or F3 and we still were both scared watching him out there. We’ll never know a day of peace now.”

She sighs, watching the screens as it shows the top three getting interviewed and in the background you can see some of the drivers getting weighed. “He’s going to be sore and in pain.” It makes something clench inside her, the knowledge that Logan would be in pain. It was part of the job, the aches and the bruises, but it didn’t make it any easier for her to know. “I’ve already got everything set up as soon as he’s back and debriefs are done.”

Her eyes catch on the screen showing where all the drivers placed and tears prick her eyes and she shakes her head. “Twelfth in his first grand prix. I can’t believe it.”

The garage is filled with chatter as the team celebrates getting their first points of the season and their rookie driver performing better than they expected. The way they don’t even try to whisper it makes her jaw twitch. She was grateful that Williams was giving Logan his dream, but she didn’t like how they were going about it. Quickly and publicly stating that they didn’t want to sign Logan yet, wanted to wait a year. And now this.

A light nudge to her ribs makes her unclench her jaw and she gives Benny a grateful smile.

Both of their attention is quickly drawn however to the two Williams drivers entering the garage, the space filling with cheers.

She smiles as Logan grins at the team, basking in the smiles they have on their faces for him and Alex, the pats on the back he’s getting. The grin turns to a beam when he spots Benny and her and he quickly bounces over to them.

A laugh leaves her at the way Benny pulls him into a bear hug, lifting him off his feet a little. “Proud of you, kid.” He murmurs. She can’t hear what Logan says, but he’s put down and it’s her turn.

She wants to bundle him up in her arms, hold him and not let go, but doesn’t want to embarrass him in front of his team, so she raises a hand and pushes his hair out of his face. “You did amazing, baby.” He smiles at her, all bright and shiny eyes and then he’s wrapping his arms around her, hugging her tight and she’s quick to return it, rubbing his back. “You did so good, Logan. So good. I’m so proud.” She tells him again, pressing a kiss to his sweaty head. “Thank you, momma.” He tells her, hugging her tight for another moment before letting her go. She smiles up at him and god, that makes her heart ache. Her son, her baby, taller than her somehow. She woke up some days and still wasn’t sure where the time had gone and how he was taller than her shoulders. “Go shower and debrief and then Benny and me will take care of you, yeah? And I’ll get your favorite ordered to the hotel, ready as soon as you get there.” He beams at her again, darting forward to press a quick to her cheek before starting to rush away. “Best mom ever!” He calls over his shoulder and she laughs.

—

Y/N Sargeant will never forget the first time she held her son, only then at nine years old, he had been her cousin.

Logan was small, wrinkly, pink skin, and full of small cries. She could remember staring at him with furrowed eyebrows, trying to understand how he could be what her baby dolls were made to be like. She remembers her mama having her sit on the couch after asking her if she wanted to hold him and how she had quickly nodded, hoping that maybe holding him would somehow make him look better.

She remembers the sudden nerves that built in her stomach as her mama started to hand him to her. Remembers being scared that she would drop him, remembers thinking how stupid it would be if he was still weird to look at like this.

And she remembers finally holding that and it disappearing. His small cries, no more, his wriggling calmed down, and his wrinkles no longer looked weird but cute. She remembers holding him for the first time and feeling unconditional love for the first time in her life.

—

She’s twelve when she realizes that her uncle and aunt don’t like Logan much. It didn’t make sense to her then, still doesn’t know. Because they liked Dalton just fine, but not Logan.

She remembers asking her dad about it. Asking him why they didn’t love Logan, but loved Dalton and worse, she remembers the pained look in his eyes as he realizes that his child picked up on what he and his wife had as well.

It’s the first hard adult conversation she has with her parents and it’s fitting that it’s about Logan, as they sit her down and talk to her about how not all parents love their kids, and how sometimes that includes them only loving one child and not the other.

—

She remembers clearly the first time Logan calls her mom.

It’s her fourteenth birthday and she’s got the four-year-old in her lap as she sits in a rocking chair, reading her English essay aloud for him. Logan’s eyes are closed, head resting on her chest, over her heart, and his little fingers of his one hand are curled in her shirt right by his head.

She wants to sit there forever, reading to him as she rocks back and forth. But she wants another slice of cake before Martha puts it away and Logan needs to sleep in his bed where he can stretch out fully and drool on his pillowcases and not her shirt that Martha will surely tut over but then smile fondly when she sees Logan doing it all over again.

Setting the essay down on her dresser, she runs her now free fingers through his blond hair. “C’mon Logan, time for bed.” He grumbles, fingers tightening on her shirt and she can feel it being pulled slightly. “You can put on your new race car jammies, cuddle with Ello.” He shakes his head, squirming a bit in her lap as he tries to shove himself closer. “Stay with you.” “Oh, baby.” She whispers, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Y’know I’ll stay with you until you fall asleep.” His head shakes again and she has to bite her lip as his head hits her collarbone. “Want cuddles, momma.” Her heart thuds painfully in her chest at the name he called her, tears pricking her eyes. “Okay, baby. Let's get you in jammies, grab Ello, and you can stay with me tonight.”

—

She’s only been eighteen for ten hours when she asks her father for the near impossible.

“I want custody of Logan. I want to adopt him. And I need your help to make that happen.” He stares at her, no expression on his face, not even shock. “He’s,” She pauses, jaw twitching and tears springing to her eyes. “He wants to do karting, just like Dalton. And he’s good at it. I’ve taken him. They told him no. They haven’t bought him clothes in two years. They don’t know a single thing about his school, his grades, his teachers. He hasn’t called David dad since he was six and he hasn’t called Madelyn mom since he was four.” Her hands are formed into fists, nails digging into her palms as she speaks. “I have money, I can provide for him. I’ve got my shares of the company now and I’ve got my inheritance from Grandma Talls. But I know that a judge won’t sign off without some influence.” “Madelyn and Daniel?” She leans forward in her seat, a spark of hope filling her. “I already talked to them, they’ll do it.” One of his hands comes up to rub at his mouth, sighing. Then it drops to open up one of his desk drawers and he’s pulling out a bunch of papers, dropping them on the desk in front of her.

“I figured this was gonna happen and I knew after you talked to them and they called me. They signed away their rights three hours ago. Michael and Lily are waiting outside to come in so you can sign the papers.” Tears slipped from her eyes, joy wrapping itself around her entire being from his words, the fact that he called their family lawyer to be on standby, that he and her mother were so supportive. “Thank you. Thank you so much.” He smiles at her. “I couldn’t say no to you. Not when it comes to Logan. I’m way too young to have a grandkid, let alone one that’s eight, but I made my peace with that years ago.” “Thank you.”

—

Max watches the free practice session coverage intently as they focus on the Williams garage, nose wrinkling when they focus on Logan’s trainer, Benny and then James Vowles. Could it really be possible that they never once caught a shot of her? He starts to get a sinking feeling in his stomach that he's gonna have to go on Twitter when the camera moves and suddenly she’s there and he’s scrambling for the tv remote, pressing the pause button just before the camera switches to an overhead shot of the Bahrain track.

His heart skips a beat as he gets his first good luck at her. Her pretty eyes and smile. His eyes then travel down, wanting to know her name and his heart drops.

Y/N Sargeant, Mother of Logan Sargeant.

Fuck.

—

“Momma Panther!” Oscar greets to the confusion of other drivers as Logan and a woman enter the room.

Lando’s eyebrows are raised as he watches Oscar stand. Watching as his teammate claps Logan on the back, before giving him an actual hug. Before he then hugs the woman as well, whispering something to her that makes her laugh.

Pulling away from her, Oscar grins when her hand comes up to pat his cheek for a second. “Thank you for the invite, Os.” “Of course.” He sends a fond look to Logan, who's standing awkwardly by the table. “Y’know Logan and you are always welcome.” She makes a humming noise. “C’mon, let me introduce you to everyone.”

Turning around, he smirks at the table. “Everyone, Logan.” Charles lets out a laugh, as the others chuckle. He gestures to her, “This is Momma Panther or Pan.” “Y/N or Pan.” She corrects, playfully shaking her finger at Oscar. “I only let the F2 boys call me Momma Pan.” He sighs. “Okay, this is Y/N. Logan’s mom.”

Lando coughs, water going down the wrong pipe. Fernando’s eyes are wide as he looks at her. Charles, George, and Alex are all nodding. Max has a weird expression on his face and Carlos looks dumbfounded.

“She,” Carlos points at her. “Is his,” he points at Logan. “Mother?” Logan moves away from the table to stand by his mom, easily melting into her side at all the attention. The action makes Oscar smile, all too used to the easy affection between the mother and son. “I got pretty lucky right?” She shakes her head. “I’m just happy you weren’t a difficult child.” Logan both blushes and preens at the same time. Carlos shakes his head, disbelief still clear.

“Please, sit.” George says after a moment. “We haven’t ordered yet.”

The seasoned drivers and her watch amused as both Oscar and Logan usher her to sit first. Oscar easily then lets Logan sit next before sitting beside the American. The two of them sharing a grin after.

It makes her shake her head as she turns her attention to the menu, tuning out the sound of conversation picking back up.

The gentle sound of a throat clearing makes her glance to her left.

The current two time world champion smiles a bit awkwardly at her. “Have you been here before?” She shakes her head, turning her head a bit to look at him better. “No. To Australia of course, for Logan’s races and to visit Oscar once, but not here.” He nods and she can’t help but notice the way he swallows harshly. “We started coming here in 2021, it’s good food. Good drinks.” She laughs, “good gin and tonic?” He flushes a little, but laughs. “Yes. Very good. Heavy on the gin.” She nods, “I think I’ll have one of those then.”

Her eyes drift back to the menu, not even wincing at the prices next to the dishes. This was nearly cheap compared to where she had been forced to eat growing up.

“Momma, can we,” “Yes.” She answers before Logan finishes, already knowing what he’s asking. “Also you two, no hard liquor. We have plans tomorrow.” She continues, still looking at the menu.

They wouldn’t get drunk from a few drinks, but she had a feeling that Lando would try to instigate something again with Oscar, making the poor kid so drunk he could barely walk, again. And she didn’t mind people thinking that she was overbearing with Logan and even Oscar. The boys knew that if they really wanted to do something they could, even if she said otherwise. It was one of the nice things about being an adult.

Logan wrinkles his nose, glancing at the drinks part of the menu, before grinning. “They have it.” Oscar glances at what he’s pointing at, shaking his head. “You and your goddamn obsession.” “We come here like once a year.” Logan defends. “And no other country sells it.”

It’s not until after the server leaves, all of their orders taken, that conversation starts again.

“So, Mrs. Sargeant,” Lando starts. “Just Y/N or even Pan.” She sends a fond look to Oscar who had made that nickname stick. “And I’m not married.” She says, amused. “Ah.” “Not married.” Fernando shakes his head. “Now that doesn’t sound right.” She looks at him amused. “Don’t believe in premarital sex?” She teases. The older driver laughs and so do the others. “No. Just hard to believe that you aren’t married. You are a very gorgeous woman.” “Thank you.”

“So,” Lando starts again, giving Max a weird look seeing how his friend is gripping his glass of water. “Will you be coming to all the races?” She nods. “Yes, I have since Logan started his career. Haven’t missed one.” Logan shakes his head, grinning at her. “Nope, not one.” “Your work allows you to do that?” Her lips press together for a second to try and hide her smile at the gentle but obvious fishing they are doing. “I have shares in some companies and a very generous inheritance. So, no true, real work.” “You do some work for Grandpa when we’re in the states.” “I organize his desk for him, which he then messes up as soon as he sits back down at it.”

“You do not mind the constant travel? It is quite tiring.” Charles asks, curious. “No. And once I got Logan in karting, I promised him that I’d make it to all of his races. Maybe in a few years, I’ll stop going to all of them, but I am part of his team as well.” “Manager?” “God, no.” She shakes her head at Carlos’ assumption. “Cook slash nutritionist. Benny, his trainer is amazing, also doubles at being a physiotherapist for Logan, but he doesn’t know how to cook to save his life. So I make their meals.” “Mine as well.” Alex pipes in. “They’re truly amazing, by the way.” “Of course.” “Can you make mine again?” Oscar asks, leaning over Logan a bit to look at her. “I’ve missed having them.” “Sure.” She laughs. “Get me your new sheets before the next race, yeah?” “Done.”

—

Max watches from the corner of his eyes as she takes her first sip of her gin and tonic. Her brows raise a bit when the drink hits her tongue and he has to force his eyes up, to not focus in on her lips, to think about them and what they’d feel like on, he shakes his head. Forcing the thoughts, the ideas away.

“Very heavy on the gin.” She whispers, turning a bit to look at him. He rubs his hands against his jeans. “Do you like it?” “It’s nice.” She smiles. Relief fills him. “Good.”

He continues to look at her, wanting to tear his eyes away but being unable to. She was simply lovely. And getting this closer look at her, he can’t believe that she’s a mother, or at least a mother to a twenty-year-old. It didn’t seem possible. She looked barely older than him. Not at least thirty-five. She was probably more like Fernando’s age as well and he glances at the fellow two world champion, more disbelief filling him. Because how could the two be close in age at all?

—

Logan sighs as he collapses face first onto Oscar’s bed. Laying there for a solid minute before groaning and turning his head.

“Dinner was nice.” Oscar hums and he can feel the bed dip beside him. “You seemed a bit more relaxed.” “No media, and you and Pan were there. A bit more relaxed.” Logan scoffs. “Yeah, because you were so tense with media before.” As he speaks, he reaches out to lay a hand on Oscar’s thigh, giving the muscle a squeeze. “It’s nuts, isn’t it? I mean we all got told that the media was so much more, so different, but…” He trails off, shaking his head. “Yeah.” Oscar sighs and then he’s laying beside Logan, the American luckily moving his hand off and away from the other’s thigh before he lies on it.

“Y’know I have no personality, apparently.” Logan snorts, eyes opening when he hadn’t even realized he had closed him. The Australian driver also has his head turned so they’re looking at each other. “What? Have they never seen a Prema video?” He shrugs as best as he can. “I’d take that over my apparent frat boyness.” “You? A frat boy?” Oscar laughs. Logan sighs as he thinks a bit more about it, the mood turning a bit serious. “I just hope momma hasn’t seen it.” “What happened?” “She’s just worried. Thinks I haven’t noticed, but she’s wondering if she did a good job with me, done enough for me. And she’s given me everything y’know. I can’t imagine what I’d be like with them as my parents.” Oscar moves a bit closer, just a few inches between their faces now. “You’d still be amazing, still great. Maybe a frat boy.” The American rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling.

“I think Fernando has a thing for her. For Pan.” He clarifies. “What?” “I mean, just during the dinner y’know, he kept looking at her. And him calling her gorgeous.” “Well, he’d be dumb and blind to not notice that.” Logan scoffs, rolling onto his back and turning his head to the side, keeping his eyes on Oscar. “I’m being serious.” The younger laughs, poking him lightly. “I think Alonso has a thing for her.” Logan’s face scrunches up in disgust. “Dude, no. That’s gross. Momma isn’t even thirty and Fernando’s like forty-three. And isn’t he dating that journalist?” Oscar’s brows press together. “What journalist?” “The one that gave Fred shit.” “I thought she died?” The two look at each other, both baffled.

Logan thinks again of the journalist he’s seen around Fernando and the one that all of the Prema drivers, former and at the time current, had avoided or given shit statements too. They did look a bit different now that he really thought about it. Fernando’s journalist slash girlfriend didn’t have a fucking complex.

“Different journo.” Logan mutters. He then blinks, “wait, she died?” “Mate, you didn’t hear about that?” “No!” “She was supposed to be at Spa, remember. And we all were relieved when she wasn’t there. She died, car crash or something, I can’t remember.” “How do I not remember this?” Oscar shrugs as best as he can while laying down. “I don’t know.”

It’s silent for a moment, “you don’t think,” “No.” Oscar shakes his head, but he doesn’t sound too sure. “I mean, yeah no.” “Right.” He looks up at the ceiling.

“Okay, so Fernando is out of the running.” Logan groans, “Os, no.” “Look he clearly has eyes, but if he’s dating someone he’s out. He wasn’t the only one looking.” “Oscar, please, it’s my mom.” “She’s like my mom too, which is why we have to talk about this.” Oscar insists, wriggling closer to Logan. Their sides completely pressed together and when Logan turns his head to look at the other, their noses nearly brush. He looks at Oscar’s face, all earnest and caring and sighs. “Fine. Charles was looking, but he only dates one type, so safe from him.” “Lando was looking.” Logan snorts, “I thought this was for potential dates, not another kid.” He laughs, their noses brushing together from the movement. “Okay, no Lando. Max.” “He kind of looked weird when you introduced her.” He frowns. “I saw that too.” “But he also got all blushy when they talked.”

“The drivers do know, I mean Alex knows that she didn’t like birth you, right?” Logan’s frown deepens. “Of course. I mean, it’s not super well known, but it’s a little hard to believe that she naturally had a kid twenty years ago.” “Thought so.” Oscar then chuckles. “Imagine, them thinking that she did, though. Just thinking she’s got some sort of insane skin care routine.”

—

“How in the hell does she look like that with a twenty-year-old kid?” “I know right?” Alex says, looking at Carlos. “It’s insane.” Charles pokes at his own cheek. “I think I need to ask her for advice, what products she uses. I want to age like her.” “We all want to age like her.” George agrees. “What are you saying?” Fernando frowns. A few of them share a look, but Charles and Max share a different one. “Mate, you’ve got wrinkles and all these lines.” Max says. “I mean those are natural, but look at her. The skincare helps.” Fernando frowns, “Lines?” Charles touches at his own lines, “see lines. From smiling, laughing, frowning. All good things, very nice. Just not uh,” his brows furrow drawing a blank. Lando snorts at his struggle. “You just want to help your skin. Keep it healthy.” The older driver makes a humming noise, considering.

—

Her breath is caught in her throat, eyes wide as she watches the screen. Her heart feels like it is beating in double time. She wants to look away, doesn’t want to watch in case something horrible happens, but she can’t. Because Logan just overtook both Magnussen and Ocon in the same lap. Logan is in 9th. Logan is in a point scoring position with only five laps of the race left. Logan might score his first formula 1 points at his home race, at his actual home race, at his first ever home race.

Her hands are shaking, fingers locked together as she presses them against her mouth, trying to breathe, praying that Logan won’t fall back out of the points.

She doesn’t even notice that he’s lessened that gap to Pierre until suddenly he’s overtaken the other French driver, just three laps later. “Oh my god.” “Fuck.” “Benny,” she whispers, and one of her hands is dropping so she can clutch at the older man. “Benny, I think,” “He’s gonna do it.”

And sure enough he does it. Logan holds his place in front of Pierre and finishes in 8th.

“Yes!” The whole garage is cheering and she’s wrapping her arms around Benny, laughing when the trainer lifts her. “He did it! He did it!” She cheers. The garage quiets though as Gaetan starts to speak on the radio.

“Logan, you are on your cooldown lap.” “Got it. Where’s Alex?” She winces at the question, one of her hands grips at Benny’s shoulder as he sets her back down, the other holding onto her headphones that miraculously didn’t get thrown off her head or disconnected when celebrating. “Alex is P14, P14.” It’s quiet for a moment. “Okay, I’m sorry we didn’t get any points today, next race is ours right? The car felt great.” Both of her hands fly up to her mouth. “Logan.” Gaetan’s voice is full of disbelief and laughter. “Mate, you finished P8. You got us points. You got your first points.” She can see him react to the news, the car jerking underneath him for a second, before he wrangles it back under control. “What? What do you mean?” “You finished in P8. Clean race, finished ahead of both Alpines and Magnussen.” “Holy fuck.” The garage fills with laughter at his reaction and tears start to build in her eyes. “You guys,” his voice breaks. “Thank you guys so much. This was you guys, the car felt great, really.” She watches as James hops on the radio. “This was you as well, Logan. Amazing drive today.” “Thank you, James. Thank you so much for this.”

His mechanics, Benny and her, quickly go over to where the cars are parking, watching as Logan slots it into place. He’s a little shaky as he gets out of the car and he’s about to dart towards them but someone from the FIA, is ushering him to the scale.

His reluctance is clear even with his helmet on, but he goes. Letting them take his weight and as soon as it’s written down, he’s stepping off and away, fumbling with his gloves and then his helmet.

There’s an awed grin on his face, tears in his eyes, and seeing it makes the tears that have built in her own fall.

His gloves and helmet tumble to the ground as his mechanics and Benny surround him, celebrating his points.

Logan laughs when they finally let them go and his eyes light up when he sees her and he darts to her and she easily welcomes him into her arms.

“I’m so proud of you.” She tells him, squeezing his sweaty body close before running a hand through his hair. “You did amazing.” “I did it, momma.” His voice is weak and she can feel tears hit the skin of her neck where his head is buried. “You did it.”

—

“Logan did amazing, it was a good drive.” She blinks in surprise at the voice, turning in her barstool to look. “Max?” He smiles at her, cheeks flushed. “He did really well.” “He did.” She agrees before patting the stool next to her. His smile widens as he takes the seat. “I didn’t realize that Red Bull was in the same hotel.” Maybe she should have since she had spotted a few Red Bull polos, but she figured it was fan gear. “I think Aston is here as well. You aren’t celebrating with Logan?” She shakes her head. “We already celebrated. Him, Oscar, and a bunch of his friends here are throwing a party. I wasn’t really interested in watching them all get wasted, so this,” she gestures to the hotel bar, “is me having a drink to celebrate before going up to my room and ordering some room service.” “Could I join you?” His cheeks redden at the words, at the way her eyebrows raise. “Not like that. But for food? I’ve never actually eaten anywhere in Miami that wasn’t catering.” She stares at him for a moment before nodding. “Yeah. And I have the perfect place to take you.”

—

“Did I actually score points yesterday?” “You did.” “Sweet.” “Very. How’s the head?” Logan shrugs, “I mean, I drank a lot, but like I’m just dehydrated.” She shakes her head, “That will change in a few years.” “Not gonna tell me to not drink underage?” He teases, bending down to press a kiss to her cheek before grabbing her glass of juice and draining it. She snorts. “We’re in Europe most of the time and I gave you your first drink. I don’t think I have a leg to stand on. And you were celebrating.” “True.”

He sits across from her, refilling the glass and taking another drink from it before setting it down and starting to help himself to her pancakes, which she just pushes closer to him. “How was your night? You could have joined us. We wouldn’t of minded.” “I’m your mom, Logan.” She laughs. “I think the me going to your friend's parties ship sailed a few years ago.” “Yeah, but you're awesome. We like having you around.” “I know.” She smiles. “I wasn’t in the mood to watch all of you get wasted.” “Fair.” he says around a bite of pancake, which she sends him a look for and he quickly swallows the food. Giving her a smile that says sorry.

“So, how was your night?” “It was good.” She tells him, spearing a piece of fruit with her other fork. “I came back to the hotel, had a drink, and then got dinner with Max.” His brows press together. “Max?” “Verstappen.” She clarifies. “Red Bull is staying here as well, he saw me at the hotel bar and asked if he could join me for some food.”

“You went on a date?” Her eyes narrow at him. “It wasn't a date.” “You went on a date.” He scrambles for his phone. “Oscar is never gonna believe it.” “I go on dates.” “Momma, you’ve gone on like five dates. And two of those were before you turned eighteen.” She scowls at him. “It wasn’t a date. We just got dinner.” She insists. “Uh huh.” He says, clearly not believing her. “Did he pay?” “Yes.” “Pull your chair out, help you with your coat, anything like that?” Her mind flashes back to Max helping her get out of his car, his insistence on opening doors for her. “Yeah, but that doesn’t mean,” Logan continues. “Did he walk you to your hotel room? Say that he had a good time and he’d like to do it again?” “Oh.” Logan grins at her, smug, as he finishes typing out a text to Oscar. “You went on a date last night.” “I went on a date last night.” And she doesn’t mention the fact that a new number resides in her phone.

—

“Logan!” He stops at the sound of his name, turning to look behind him, where Max Verstappen is nearly jogging to catch up with him. “Max.” He greets, when the older driver is next to him, nerves filling him at the eyes of said driver on him, along with how a few other drivers are also looking at the pair, shock and surprise clear on their faces. “Hey.” Max grins. “How are you feeling about the track?” He looks at the older driver in confusion. They had just left the drivers briefing, why was he asking him this? Alex had already spoken about how the team was feeling about Monaco. “The car won’t be the best here, but we said that in Miami, so we’re hoping to repeat that here. Alex has a good chance at ending in a point scoring position.” He reiterates what he's been told and what he’s been telling the press. “But how are you feeling about it?” Logan stares at the Dutchman, eyes flickering around trying to see if cameras are there, if his momma is there, but there isn’t anyone. The other drivers are already gone, so are the FIA people. It’s just him and Max. “Y’know you don’t have to talk to me because you went out with my mom.” He expects relief, like that one dick Jase, and really who puts that on a birth certificate, but Max just frowns. “I know, I don’t have to.” Logan swallows around the lump in his throat, “right.” Turning around, he starts to walk, somehow knowing that the other driver will join him. “It’s a tricky track, it’s Monaco. I was here last year and I barely got in the points.” “P10 and P9.” He throws the driver a look, because that was too much to know, but Max is just looking at him, encouraging him to continue. “The car isn’t suited for it. I mean it wasn’t for Miami, but this is different. And I’m still not managing my tyres correctly, so even if I did manage to gain positions, I’d get called in to pit and lose them.” Max huffs out a laugh. “You are a rookie in a Williams, it’s impressive that you’ve already gotten points. If you could manage your tyres, when sometimes even I struggle, well I’d put you in Checo’s seat.” “Not yours?” He laughs again, “No. I’m a bit better at it than Checo.” Logan couldn’t really deny that.

“Do you want some advice? On the tyres?” Logan quickly nods. “I’ll take anything I can get.” “Don’t fight the car too much on the turns. If you need to get it to turn properly or without going on the brakes too soon, fight it. But when you don’t, let the car be stable, keep it fluid. When you come out of the corner, press harder. It might feel like you’ll go into the wall, but you won’t.” “And if I go into the wall?” Max laughs, clapping him on the shoulder. “I think you're a better driver than that mate.”

—

“How are you doing that in the turns?” Logan looks up from his notebook, where he’d been scribbling a bunch of random words. Looking at the screen, he watches his own onboard. He thinks about saying that it was Max that told, but no one at Williams liked hearing about Red Bull, especially with Alex in the room. “Just something I thought I’d try.” “Well, it was good, continue doing it. We may have ended up out of the points, but we got close.” Logan nods. Even with his five-second penalty, he had still kept fourteenth, and Alex ended up in twelfth. “Will do.”

—

Max had thought about her in his apartment a lot, an embarrassing amount. He had also pictured it very differently. A nice dinner, wine, even though a majority of it made his nose wrinkle, perhaps some kissing on his couch as a movie plays that they both don’t care about.

He hadn’t expected lunch, with juice that he’s trying to figure out how he’s never had it when he’s lived in Monaco for so many years, and a somewhat serious conversation, though maybe he has been expecting that one or rather anticipating it.

“I like you, Max.” He flushes, “I like you too.” He really did, even though his mother was going to have a heart attack when she found out how much older Pan was than him. “And I want to continue doing this.” She gestures between them with her free hand that isn’t being held in his. “So,” sensing that there’s something she wants to say. “I’m a mom.” He blinks at her words, panic starting to fill him. He thought he’d made that clear that he knew that, understood that. He always made sure to ask about Logan. He even had Logan’s number now after talking to him about how he felt about the Monaco track. “I know.” “Logan is important to me.” Oh, god, did Logan not like him? “The most important thing to me. And if we're going to continue to do this, I just need you to know that. He’s always going to be my first priority.” “Of course.” Relief fills him, his heart slows from its frantic beating. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.” She stares at him, trying to gauge how truthful he’s being before nodding. “Okay.”

“Did you think that I didn’t know that?” She shakes her head immediately. “No, it’s just. I don’t really do this.” She laughs. “Dating, relationships. Logan pointed that out to me, so I don’t really know how this goes and I just had to make it clear, put it on the table now.” “I don’t really do this either.” He hesitates to ask his next question, but does. “Logan’s father. What was your relationship with him like?” Her face screws up in disgust. “Ew.” He laughs, not expecting that reply or that word to sum up a relationship. But fair enough.

“I mean the idea of a relationship between me and Logan’s father is gross. Logan’s,” she pauses, seeming to settle on a different word. “Birth parents are my aunt and uncle.” “His what?” He could have sworn she said birth parents, but that couldn’t be right. “His birth parents.” She looks at him, concerned. “I adopted Logan when I turned eighteen. Did you think I gave birth to him?” “No.” He says, shaking head and clearing his throat. “Of course not.” She stares at him, lips pressed together. He sighs, slumping in his seat, eyes closing. “I may or may not have thought you were just a really, really young looking forty-something year old woman.” She immediately bursts into laughter and his eyes fly open at the sound. “You thought?” “The graphic for the race footage says you are his mother, I did not think otherwise. I just thought you looked great for your age.” He defends, a little embarrassed, but delighted by the expression on her face and her laughter that is still filling his ears. “I am his mother, just adopted.” “Not that either of you see it that way.” “No.” She shakes her head, laughing one last time before calming down.

“No. Logan’s mine, he’s been mine practically since he was born. It just wasn’t seen that way legally until I was eighteen and custody got signed over to me.” “Of course.” He then flashes her smile, “So can I ask how old you are?” She laughs, nodding. “Yes, Max. I think just this once it’s better to ask a lady her age than assume it.” “How old are you?” “I’m twenty-nine.” He looks at her with new eyes, the age making much more sense. “I would’ve said twenty-five.” “Really? I think you would’ve said forty-something.” “How was I to know?” He throws his free hand in the air at the tease, his other still holding hers.

—

“Hi, baby.” She greets when Logan stumbles out of his room, practically still asleep, as he drops onto the couch. “Momma.” He whines, resting his head on her lap and turning his face to press it into her stomach, trying to block out the sun. Her fingers brush through his hair as she forces her body to stay relaxed. It was always a fight when he did this.

She hated that her body didn’t bear any signs of being pregnant before, no stretch marks around her belly. She hated that she hadn’t actually gotten to carry Logan no matter how impractical it was, unless of course she was as old as Max had thought she was. She smiles at the memory of how flustered Max had looked when he realized her actual age.

He mumbles something and she turns his face away from her stomach. “What?” “How was your date last night?” Her smile widens. “It was good.” “Yeah?” She nods. “Did you see Jimmy and Sassy?” “No.” She runs her hand over his forehead, knowing that he’s thinking of Sooty. “We should talk though after you’ve had some breakfast.” “About what?” “Breakfast first.”

“What do we need to talk about?” Logan asks nearly thirty minutes later, his fruit bowl all gone and his coffee on its way to be there as well. She swallows, hands flexing. “Max.” “What about Max?” She sighs. “Well, baby, him and I talked about becoming serious last night. But that’s not gonna happen until I know how you feel.” “You know, I’m okay with it.” “I know you're okay with me dating, but this is a bit more complicated. Max is on the grid with you and we’re talking about a relationship.” Logan eyes widen a bit at the word relationship. “I mean, how does Max feel about it? About being with someone who has a kid on the grid?”

He asks knowing it will give him time to figure out how to tell her how he feels and because he wants to know, he kind of wants Max to be okay with it. He likes Max, and not just as a driver. The older driver is kind and funny, he also looks at his mom like she’s the sun, he makes her happy and that’s enough to put him in Logan’s good books. His mom deserves the best and he thinks from what little he’s seen, from how much more happy his mom has been (and god that was weird, because it wasn’t even like she wasn’t happy before) that Max might be the best for her. And Max now every time he sees Logan is always stopping to talk to him even if it’s just for a second to say a quick hi.

“Max is good with it. He knows that you're my number one and that’s never going to change.” Logan flushes at the words. “He also likes you, thinks you're a good kid.” She lets out an amused huff as the word kid leaves her mouth. It was odd to hear Max describe Logan that way, with only five years between them. But at the same time she knew it came from being practically a veteran in the sport. Max was coming up on ten years in Formula 1 despite his young age. He flushes even more. “Really?” “Yeah.” She smiles. “He always asks about you, it’s really sweet. And he knows to that if you aren’t comfortable with this or need more time then that’s what will happen.” “I am an adult.” “You are.” She was sadly well aware of that fact. “But you are my baby, my kid. I couldn’t be in a relationship with someone if you didn’t like them or if it made you uncomfortable.” He nods. “I’m okay with it. Max makes you happy, he’s nice.” “Yeah?” “Yeah.”

—

She lets out a giggle as arms wrap around her from behind, lips pressing against her cheek. “Hi.” “Hi.” Another kiss is pressed to her cheek. “Can I help?” She glances down at what she’s finishing up. “No. You could set the table, though?” “Done.” A kiss is pressed to her temple and then the blanket of heat that covered her back is gone. “What cabinet?” “First one entering the kitchen on the left.” She says, turning her head a bit to watch as Max pulls the dishes out.

Her mouth goes a little dry as she watches him. His t-shirt is tight around his biceps and chest. His skin is a little tanned after their date a few days ago on a friend's yacht. She forces her eyes to not look at his hands, instead trailing them up to his strong shoulders and neck and then to his face. Max, she thinks as he starts to put the plates on the table, is unfairly attractive. Before he can catch her staring, she checks on the final thing on the stove. “Perfectly done.” She mumbles with a smile.

The sound of the front door opening makes her smile grow wider as she grabs a pot holder. “Am I late?” “Just on time.” She tells Logan as he steps into the kitchen. “Can I,” She stops him before he can continue. “No, go wash up.” “Alright.” He bends a little to press a kiss to her cheek before turning on his heel, offering a wave to Max. “Hi.” “Hi, Logan.”

Picking up the pan, she shakes her head as Max goes to try and take it from her. “Logan and you are both going to get on too well.” “Why’s that?” He asks, a twinkle in his eye. “You both don’t like when I lift anything.” “What’s the point of having a son or a boyfriend, then?” Logan says, clapping Max on the shoulder as he comes back. Max grins at the younger, delighted as he claps him back. “Exactly. We feel a bit neglected.” She rolls her eyes, shaking her head, though a smile is stretching across her lips.

—

Max watches amused as the mother and son argue.

“Mom, it would be for two races, two, that’s it.” “One race, really.” Max chimes in, smiling when she glares at him. “Spa is nice, but Zandvoort is really what I consider my home race.” “See, it would be one race. Max wants you in his garage.” Logan says, looking at the other driver, begging for him to help but at the last sentence Max shakes his head. “I never said that. Well, I would like to see Pan in my garage, not for the whole weekend, or even a day. She’s part of your team.” Logan looks at him, bewildered. “But, it’s your home race.” He shrugs. “I’d like for her to stop by, you as well. I already have it cleared with the team. Staying for even a whole session though just doesn’t make any sense. I don’t need her on my side of the garage to know that she’s supporting me, wanting me to do well, not when you are on the grid.” “Are you sure?” Max smiles at Logan, because yes he was sure. Did he want her there, supporting him? Maybe even dressed in something with his number? Of course. But, he liked seeing her in Logan’s garage. Supporting him, wearing his merch, being a mom. “I’m more than sure.”

“Besides,” she says, drawing both of their attention. “Max and I haven’t gone public yet. Or really told anyone yet.”

—

“Well, this is a bit of an odd one.” Laura says as they stop in front of the Red Bull garage. The cameraman focuses on what she’s looking at. “Both Logan Sargeant and his mother, better known as Pan from Formula 2 fans, are in the Red Bull garage, currently talking with our current championship leader Max Verstappen, his engineer GP, and Daniel Ricciardo.” “Shall I see if I can steal one of them away?” Will asks, smiling at the camera as he holds the F1 TV microphone loosely. “Please.” She gestures.

Will steps towards the garage smiling at the small group hovering just inside. “Could I steal one of you for a quick minute?” The five exchange a look and Will stops himself from rolling his eyes at the way they all look annoyed at the idea, but Logan nods. “Sure.” “Thank you.”

He watches as Logan says something quietly to them, getting nods from them all. His brow furrows when Max squeezes his shoulder before the younger driver gives his mom a quick hug, making him shake his head. Logan Sargeant was an absolute mommy’s boy and it was embarrassing as all hell to see. He couldn’t imagine being twenty and hugging his mom in public, let alone all those videos and photos of him reaching for her hand.

Will ignored the part of him that did think it was sweet and felt bad for the kid. He couldn’t look all sappy while filming, especially not when in front of the Red Bull garage.

“Hi everyone.” Logan greets, taking the third mic from the newest crew member. “Hello, Logan. How are you feeling about this weekend?” He smiles at Laura. “I’m feeling okay, I’ve raced here before, obviously not in an F1 car, but I do have some experience with this track.” “And you and your mum’s visit to the Red Bull garage, should we expect an announcement of you switching teams?” She teases. “No.” He laughs. “No, uh, just visiting for personal reasons. Saying hello to Daniel, wishing Max a good home race.” “I mean, I’m not sure, he needs it.” Will jokes, gaining a few laughs. “So, no business to be done at Red Bull? Just saying a hello and wishing a good race to a fellow driver.” “Yeah,” he pauses, looking back at the garage where it’s just Max and his mom standing now watching him with smiles on their faces. It’s only that he continues when his mom gives a brief nod, one barely able to be seen by the camera. “And I wasn’t just wishing a fellow driver good luck.” “Oh?” Logan grins, looking pleased with himself. “I was wishing my new dad good luck.”

—

“Carlos Sainz is a cunt.” Max freezes at her words, hand still on the doorknob from just stepping into the room. “Hi, schat.” “Carlos Sainz is a cunt.” She repeats. His brain is scrambling because what exactly had Carlos done but also why was it so attractive to her say the word cunt. It had to be the accent, he decided quickly, still trying to figure out the Carlos thing. “And why is Carlos a cunt?” He finally asks, releasing the door knob and stepping further into the room.

She’s on her laptop, rapidly typing something, and he can feel anger radiating off her.

“That bullshit he spewed, blaming Oscar’s inexperience.” She scoffs, pausing her typing as she shakes her head. “It was an incident, a racing incident, something he knows a lot about. There was no inexperience fault.” “Oscar’s okay?” He already knows that he is, but knows it's good to ask. “He’s good. He knows that it's a racing incident.” Max winces. Wonders for a second if he should warn Carlos to keep his mouth shut, but shrugs. It wasn’t his fault that Carlos was getting in trouble because he couldn’t watch his mouth or correctly look at footage. “Can I help?” She sighs, hitting close on whatever she was writing in. “No.” She then closes her laptop, turning to face him, with a smile. “Hi. Congrats on the win.” “Thank you.” He bends to kiss her. “You okay?” “Yeah, just,” she waves her hand at her laptop, “stuff.” “Anything I can help with?” She starts to shake her head no as he sits on the edge of the bed, but she stops. “Actually, could I get your insight on something? Not just as a driver, but as someone who lives and breathes racing, loves data, really knows how the sport works.” “Of course. What’s going on?”

Another sigh leaves her, hand coming up to rub at her mouth for a second before it drops. “Why would a team not resign a driver?” His eyebrows furrow, because she knows the reasons, but he answers. “Not performing well, they want out of the team or sport, sponsorship issues.” “The driver wants to stay in the sport and the team.” Her lips turn downwards a bit at the word team. “And the driver brought new sponsorships to the team.” “They have to be not performing well.” “They’re a rookie in a back marker team.” “They have to be really performing badly.” Max says, trying to think of who in Formula 2 or 3 she’s talking about. “They already have six points and have placed ahead of their experienced teammate three times.” His mind is scrambling again, trying to find a reason, because what? “How many does his teammate have?” “Nine.” “I have no idea. Not unless there’s conflict within the team.” She shakes her head. “Is there potentially a more experienced driver for the spot?” She shakes her head. “They’re looking at another rookie or maybe someone who stepped away from the series for a year, though they’d rather take a rookie than him.” “I don’t have an answer for you. It doesn’t make sense to me.” She nods, expression falling and she’s rubbing at her face.

“What’s going on?” He asks, standing up just to crouch down in front of her, taking her hands in his. “The driver’s Logan.” “What?” “Williams isn’t sure they want to offer Logan another year.” Max stares at her. “How?” “I don’t know.” She shrugs, laughing. “There’s talks of them signing whoever wins this F2 championship or even the runner-up depending on who it is. Logan’s making too many mistakes.” “He’s costing them too much money.” Max fills in the blank, shaking his head. “That’s ridiculous. Don’t take a rookie if you can’t afford it. You are supposed to account for the worse. And he’s doing well. It’s not his fault that they built a shit car.” “I don’t know what to do.” She admits, voice just a whisper, and his heart clenches painfully at the sound of it, at the tears in her eyes. “This is his dream. I don't know what to do if that gets taken away from him.” “It won’t. We’ll figure something out.” He tells her, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

—

“I think I’m spoiled.” Max says, watching as she gets ready for bed. A faint feeling of arousal pooling his gut as she pulls on one of his shirts. He absentmindedly wonders if it would be weird to wear it tomorrow to the track, the scent of her lotion clinging to it. “Why’s that, honey?” He smiles, cheeks a bit pink, and that arousal builds a bit more at the pet name, at the way she shifts in the vanity chair to loosen some tension in her back. “You come to every race, you see me win, you celebrate them, you got to see me win my third championship today.” Those words feel weird off his tongue, today, but totally sober to celebrate. He wants desperately for tomorrow to come, for the race to finish so they can celebrate, him, her, Logan, the team. “I guess you are a bit spoiled.” He gasps, clutching at his heart, making her giggle. “That’s okay though.” She says, getting up and moving onto the bed, straddling him. “I think I like you spoiled.” He groans as she dips her head, pressing a kiss to the flutter of his pulse. “Schat.” It's a warning to stop and a plea for more. “I know.” She kisses the spot a bit firmer. “Celebrations will have to wait just a day longer.” She then rolls off him, his arm immediately lifting so she can press against his side.

“It’s cruel to win with a sprint race.” She snorts, “A sprint race never stopped us before.” “It’s cruel to win with a sprint race in Qatar.” He amends. “Very true.”

He sighs, staring at the ceiling as he calms down, luckily the feeling of her fingers tapping along his stomach not making it harder. “How’s Logan feeling?” Max asks, remembering how pale he looked when they got dinner. She sighs, moving somehow closer. “Not great. No fever, but his stomach is still a bit upset.” He winces. “He gonna be okay tomorrow?” “I hope so. The team knows that he’s sick, they’ll make the right choice.” “I hope so.” He echoes, wishing that Logan felt better, hoping that he feels better by the time the race starts.

—

“We are confident in him.” Max scoffs, tossing his phone aside. “I know.” “Logan still wanting to do his new routine.” She nods, lips pursed. He shakes his head. “He did good.” It wasn’t the rookie season that Oscar had, but it couldn’t be. Oscar got lucky enough to get a seat in a near top team, while Logan got one with a back of the grid team that was sometimes midfield.

Logan scoring ten points, getting himself to sixteenth in the standings, tied with Bottas in the standings, was very good for a rookie. It was a shame that Williams seemed to think he could’ve and should have done better. At least, Max thinks, the 2025 grid was wide open for possibilities.

“Are him and Oscar still joining us?” She throws him a look. “Us?” “You.” He amends, knowing that despite him joining her, he’d get caught up in Redline and different things. He was just happy she didn’t mind that. “Only for a few days and then they both are off to Australia.” “Will Logan be joining us for Florida?” “Yes. My mom has been asking the next time she’s going to see her only grandchild.” Max laughs at the eye roll. “So, Belgium first, then Monaco,” “You go to Milton for a day after.” He nods, “then Greece, Florida, Monaco.” “Not bad for the first few weeks of winter break.” “Not bad at all.” He agrees, wrapping his arms around her waist, chest pressed against her back.

It’s quiet between the couple as Max sways them.

“Max.” “Yes?” “Your mom, she does know that I’m not in my forties right? Or thirties?” She figured that the woman did, but she also had only briefly gotten to meet her at the one race, and there had been an odd expression on her face when Max introduced her as his girlfriend. He freezes. “Max.” “I knew I forgot something.”

@ohtous @cixrosie @darleneslane @fanboyluvr @teti-menchon0604 @eugene-emt-roe @quackquackhun @rewmuslupin @copper-boom @stopeatread @crashingwavesofeuphoria @jointhehunt67 @namgification @asphalstead @poppyflower-22 @racingheartsposts @gemofthenight @peachiicherries @lpab @hiireadstuff @iloveyou3000morgan @boiohboii @bibliosaurous @skepvids @elliegrey2803

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 x reader #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen x reader #I ❤️ MILFS verse #I was on something when I came up with this idea and the name of this fic

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