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papayatori · 3 months

Text

Don’t Blink!(P5)

LN4 x fem!reader

Warnings: none

Thanks again for keeping with me on this story 😁 I’ve fallen in love with it. Let me know if you have requests/questions! -Tori (i'm sorry this is out so much later than I anticipated, I got really caught up in a phone call, so I made it a little longer than it was initially was going to be...)

Life had a funny way of stringing me along recently, and after the longest week of my entire existence, Bahrain was finally here.

I had never been on a plane before, so that was quite the experience. I shook when the plane took off, to which Lando grabbed my hand for moral support. At least, that’s what I’m going to call it. It couldn’t have been anything more than that.

We eventually landed, much to my gratitude. If it weren’t for my new job, I would never fly again. I could’ve kissed the ground when we got off had it not been for my wobbly legs and self respect.

Now, we were in the hotel. All of our rooms were conveniently beside one another’s, if not directly near. Oscar and Lando had free practice today, regardless of being jetlagged more than likely. I suppose, however, they were used to this.

My room was breathtaking. It had a small balcony that I could lounge on if I desired. The room itself was a series of multiple rooms, a small main room that branched into the bedroom itself, with a mid sized bathroom to the left. Even with my freelance photography, I could’ve never afforded something like this, and I made a mental note not to think about it.

After getting myself situated, I decided to talk a walk around the hotel. I figured that if there was anything to do to pass the time, it was to get myself acquainted with my surroundings.

Opening the door, I saw Lando and Oscar walking past to their rooms beside me. I gained Lando’s attention rather quickly, taking Oscar a moment to take in what was happening.

“Fancy seeing you here.” Oscar joked. I giggled in response.

“I wonder why?” I heard Lando snort at my comment from beside Oscar, who gave me a deadpan before smiling again.

“Where are you headed?” Lando asked, head tilting to the side slightly. His gesture made my chest burn.

“Just to look around, I’ve already gotten unpacked.” I saw Oscar smile.

“Well, I’d show you around but I’ve got to unpack myself before practice, so I’ll catch up in a bit.” He reached to kiss my hand, a small gesture that had started to become more of a habit for him. I felt my cheeks redden, he’d never done it in front of anyone else, much less Oscar.

“I’ll show you around, mate. I'm sure Lando won’t mind.” He smiled after Lando was no longer in ear shot. I laughed, hoping to keep the air around us light.

I had never really spoken to Oscar outside of our conversations with Lan. He seemed wonderful, I had just never really gotten to know him. Though, he didn't exactly take long to open up to me.

“How long has that been happening?” He gave me a lopsided smile, reverting back to Lando kissing my hand. My gaze dropped to the floor, a small smile creeping upwards.

“I’m not really sure what you’re talking about, Oscar.” I tried to play it off, but the lack of eye contact told him exactly what he needed to know.

“I’m talking about you and Lando. He never stops talking about you, y/n.” His tone was playful, lighthearted; but my eyes lit up nonetheless.

“What is there to talk about?” I looked up to meet his gaze now, worried about what he was saying. I trusted Lan, I didn’t think he’d speak ill of me, but there was always a chance.

“Oh, you know, about how beautiful you are, how your smile is contagious, how you can’t stop looking at his eyes-“ I cut him off after that last bit.

“He said what?” Oscar laughed, almost toppling over. The people around us had started giving us strange looks. "Traitorous Bastard." I mumbled quietly, causing him to laugh a bit more.

“Don’t be too upset with him, I had to sit and listen to him ramble about yours at practice yesterday.” He had calmed his laughter, giving me a smirk as my face had started to give away my emotions again. “I think you should talk to him about it.”

“About my eyes?” He deadpanned.

“No, stupid. You two obviously have a thing for each other. You should probably say something before you don’t have a chance.” He was smiling, but I was not.

“You don’t genuinely think that, do you?” Oscar gave me a look that told me just about how slow he thought I was.

“I’ve had this conversation with both of you, and both of you act as if I don't know what I'm talking about when it comes to love." This time, it was my turn to look at him like he was stupid. "What? I'm the one with a relationship here, and I'm willing to bet good money that I'm a better wingman than you think."

With a sigh, i gave in.

"Alright, so you're telling me that if I were to talk to Lan about my.. urm, feelings, that he would have those same sort of feelings."

Oscar's hand immediately went to his forehead with a loud groan.

"Yes! That's-" another groan followed by a small laugh, "listen, I'll help you out with it, just promise me you'll do it. I can only listen to Lando ramble for so long."

With much reluctance, I agreed, shaking Oscar's hand as if this was some business proposal rather than a simple agreement over whether or not he was going to help me with a boy.

After exchanging phone numbers and finding our way back up to our rooms, Oscar gave me a sideways hug.

"Don't worry about it too much. Just text me if you need help with the situation." At about that time, Lando had walked out of his room with a somewhat confused look on his face, which I'm assuming was directed towards the hug Oscar had just given me. He eyed Oscar warily as he walked past him, winking at me as he did so. I rolled my eyes. "I'm just going to unpack, then I'll be ready to leave."

Lando gave him a look, still untrusting, but nodded in his direction before letting him walk off and turning his attention to me.

"How was your walk?" He asked, eyeing me still. He wore an expression that I wasn't entirely sure how to read.

"It was interesting, nice hotel though." I smiled at him, hoping he would take the bait and smile back. Much to my satisfaction, he grinned back, though it didn't entirely meet his eyes.

"Well, seeing as we have nothing to do until Oscar is finished, care to join me for a few minutes?" He motioned for his hotel door with a more genuine look this time. I wasn't sure where he had been going previously, but he seemed to have forgotten all about it now.

"Lead the way, mate."

Shutting the door behind him, he gave me a look that I couldn't read, yet again. His eyes were swirling with emotion, which oddly, he was incredibly good at hiding. I sat on the little couch in his main room. His room was set up just like mine, only opposite mine. I tilted my head as he walked over to sit beside me.

"How do you think your practices are going to go?" I looked at him, not sure whether to be worried or not. He shrugged.

"It's either going to be really good, or really badly.. This really could be my season. Hell, McLaren's season for all we know. I'm just hoping it isn't completely dominant again, even if Max deserved it." I squeezed his hand this time, that must have been what he was thinking when I walked in. At least that's what I was telling myself. "I'm sure you're going to do great this season. Just don't beat yourself up over it. I have no idea what it's like to be in that position, but I do know that it is difficult to overcome hardship. I'm here for that if you need it." I smiled a small smile, looking deeply into his eyes. He chuckled lightly, breaking eye contact. "I wish it were that easy, mate; but I'll keep it in mind." I still held his hand tightly, not wanting to let it go. He had turned on the TV mindlessly watching while rubbing circles on the back of my hand idly.

The door opened, scaring both of us. Lando had stopped circling, but he hadn't let go of my hand. I looked up to see a smirking Oscar standing in the door. I made a mental note to explain what was happening later.

"I see you two are comfortable." Lando shot daggers across the room. Not only were his eyes beautiful, but they were deadly too it seemed. I wanted to smile at him, but I restrained myself. "Anyways, I'm here to collect Lando now. Zak says we're leaving." I felt Lando squeeze my hand one more time before letting go and standing up.

"Feel free to stay here if you want, we'll be gone most of the day." Oscar groaned at Lan's comment. "Free practices are boring." Oscar stated. "Maybe so, but they're useful." Lando said, walking over to the door.

As they walked out the door I couldn't help but miss the feeling of Lando's hand in mine. I missed the warmth, the safe feeling I had when he was around. I think Oscar had done something to me. I think he had implanted some sort of chemical in my brain that was causing me to feel all of this when I had met them the first time. There was no other viable explanation for my feelings. I let out an exasperated groan, falling dramatically back onto the couch in Lan's hotel room.

Without thinking about it, I let myself fall to sleep.

...

"Nah, she won't be home for a few hours.. She's watching some silly race at her parents house.. She left a few minutes ago." I heard faintly from the other room.

I was standing in the main room, I had left my phone in the house as I was leaving for my Dad's. We were going to watch the first race of the season together and I was absolutely stoked... At least until I heard what was happening in my bedroom. "Are you sure? I thought I just heard someone.." I heard a females voice ask. Was I losing my mind?

I picked up my phone off of the bar in the kitchen, realizing I must have left it there while I was getting ready and forgot about it.

"I'm sure, you're just paranoid, love."

I felt the blood rising into my face. My hands shook slightly. Without a second thought, I trudged into my bedroom to find my boyfriend with a blonde girl I had never even met before. I heard two collective gasps from the bed, one being my boyfriends. Well, I suppose now ex boyfriend. "I- y/n! I can explain I swear!" I heard him call to me, but I had already made up my mind.

"Out. Now." I murmured, deathly quiet. The two stood, gathering their clothes. "y/n-" "Go! And if I ever see your face again, I'll mess it up so badly that no female will be able to look at you long enough to fuck you again."

…

“Y/n..?” I felt a soft shake on my shoulder. “Are you okay..?” Why would anyone be asking me if I was okay? I opened my eyes, my eyes that had suddenly felt swollen shut and hard to open. I reached up to feel my face, it was puffy and wet.

Had I been crying?

I finally looked up to see Lando, who had concern written all over his face.

“y/n what the hell happened to you?” He was crouched in front of me, frantically searching my eyes for something I wasn’t even sure was there. Then I remembered the memory that I had repressed for so long, almost exactly a year now. I felt another tear roll down my face. Lando helped me sit up and sat beside me. I saw a look of remorse on his face and immediately started to worry about that too, causing more tears. As if not being able to take it any longer, he pulled me into his chest. His strong arms were wrapped gently around me, encasing me in his body. Lando was warm, he smelled like sweat, but he was warm. "I'm sorry I wasn't here sooner." He said, stroking my hair gently as I cried into his chest. "Please don't cry anymore, you have no idea how much it hurts me to see you cry, darling." I looked up at Lando, eyes watery and sad. He looked so hurt and confused. God, I couldn't even explain to him why I was crying.

"I'm sorry." I mumbled before falling back into his chest, too afraid to let him see me any longer. "You don't have anything to be sorry for, y/n. Please don't apologize to me." What he didn't realize is that I had everything to be sorry for. Not only did I fall asleep on his couch, but I had also made it inevitable that he would come back from practice, potentially upset and exhausted, finding me on his couch asleep. Somehow, it had managed to be worse than that. Without another word, he lifted my chin, not giving me another opportunity to look away. He caressed my cheek tenderly, wiping stray tears as he did so. "Who did this to you?" I saw the anger in his eyes as he asked me this, wondering who the hell had hurt someone he cared about. My heart skipped a beat as the warmth of his hand burned itself into my cheek. "It's been a year.." I managed to say softly. "..in my own bedroom." I choked, feeling the tears slide down a bit heavier now. His hand held firm, not letting me back away. My pulse radiated through my skull, beating so hard that I wasn't sure if it wouldn't explode. "Tell me everything.." He said softly, his eyes filled to the brim with anger. I nodded, doing my very best to choke out the words that I needed to. After some time, Lando had finally let go of my face. I explained everything to him, even what I had told him when I last saw him. "That's my girl." He had replied, making my heart skip probably ten beats. It was a miracle I was still living currently. We had lied there for God knows how long, just talking and crying everything out. Well, I was the only one doing the crying, but that's besides the point. I snuggled into his warmth. Despite having slept for so long, I wanted nothing more than to lay in his embrace. His touch was my comfort. I could feel every breath he took, every move he made, every beat his heart sounded. This felt better than anything I had ever felt before. Not to mention, this felt right. "Thank you, Lan. For everything." I gave him a sleepy smile, my eyes still watery and face still puffy from earlier. He gave me one in return. "Anything for you, darling." This time, I was fully awake and aware of what was happening as he bent down, kissing my forehead. Heat rose to my cheeks, and for once I was grateful for my swollen, red face. The last thing I remember was Lando's thumbs tracing circles on my arm and back, comforting me in any way possible. We lay there with each other, the only audible sound being our breaths. This bastard really knew what he was doing, didn't he?

For those of you who wanted to be tagged^^(please let me know if you would like to be tagged) @kapsylia

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hopelessdelusional · 11 months

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Literally got a dream after i read this prompt, went insane, and then basically wrote a whole book

so it’s safe to say im obsessed

word count: 4K

╭── ⋅ ⋅ ─ ✩ ─⋅ ⋅ ──╮

Bakugou Katsuki is a hero.

He is a Pro Hero, number 2 to be in fact (damn Deku). He has made a living fighting battles and saving lives, jumping off roofs and flying in the sky. He is a real life super hero, putting his life in danger. Every morning he wakes up has to prepare himself for the things he may see that day. The blood he might shed, and the people he may not be able to save. He has learned to be fearless, never finding himself nervous when jumping into the fight.

And yet, he’s never felt more terrified right now.

He met you three years ago, after quite literally crashing right into the very studio you record your music. He was battling a woman who had the ability to make and control giant vines, and apparently are explosive-proof. Todoroki almost hit him with a blast of his shitty ice, making him turn to his so called “partner” and cuss him out. However, that gave the villain the chance to grab him, and send him flying.

Bakugou soon found himself miles away from the fight, as he had to use his quirk in order not to fall to his death. But as many know, his quirk is sporadic.

That is how he crash landed into your studio.

It hurt like hell sure, but when he opened his eyes and saw you standing over him with nothing but concern in your eyes, he instantly forgot the many injuries he gained. You were breathtaking, and not like anyone he had ever interacted with. You immediately made the terrified people in the studio help him up and you found the nearest first aid kit and fixed him up as best as you could before an ambulance came.

He was dazed, but you were so kind and made small talk. Bakugou had always been one to hate any type of small talk, but he loved every word that left your mouth. You were newly moved to Japan, some sort of opportunity came to you that you couldn’t turn down (Bakugou was severely concussed so a lot of what you said was a blur).

Bakugou does remember Mina and Kaminari mentioning you, playing your music whenever he came to either of their houses. You had such a unique voice, a bit raspy that caught the attention of millions of people. Surprisingly, also caught the attention to Bakugou, as he would play it during the rare nights when he’d be cooking alone in his kitchen. Your story telling was incredible, your lyrics were anything but bland. Making music about the bad and good exes you’ve had, your friends and family, your past, and even wrote songs about random characters your beautiful mind came up with. You always made sure to use all sorts of instruments, and the notes that you compacted into your songs never ceased to amaze Bakugou’s standards.

Now he was here, sitting on a table asking you all sorts of questions about you. Maybe it was the concussion, or maybe it was just your personality but Bakugou began to get addicted to you, never wanting you to stop talking.

“Here.”

You turned away from him, your hand leaving his knee instantly making him already miss the warmth of you as you shuffled through your bag.

He watched you with curiosity (and took the chance to shamelessly check out your ass) before you turned around with a newfound grin on your face. You were holding a pen, and he cocked an eyebrow at you, not understanding the excitement of this pen in your perfect hand. You walked back over to him, your perfume becoming addicting to him, and you gently grabbed his hand. You were making intense eye contact with him, and Bakugou suddenly felt…nervous? You smiled at the blush that rose on the hero’s face, before you clicked the pen and began to write something on his wrist.

Bakugou watched, feeling somewhat like a child, and once you finished and allowed him to look. He was pleasantly surprised to see your number on his arm.

His head instantly shot up, almost not believing this was happening.

“If I text this and it’s a scam, I’m gonna hunt you down.”

His gruff voice didn’t match the face he was making at you, and you threw your head back and laughed.

Once you caught your breath, you smiled at him, making him blush even more (he didn’t even know that was possible!).

“As fun as that would be, I promise that is in fact my home number. I would never trick my favorite pro hero like that.”

Out of the corner of his eye he saw two paramedics walking through the door, ready to help him out of there. However, he chose to ignore them and smirk at you instead.

“Favorite eh?”

You giggled, still holding his hand.

“Don’t get too cocky mister, or else I’ll write a mean song about you.”

His grin widened, using his other hand to lead your hand to his lips. He gently kissed it, hating how chapped his lips were, but the blush that quickly appeared on your cute cheeks made it worth it.

“I’d rather the song have another meaning.”

The two of you held eye contact, and he soaked up every second of it not ever wanting to forget what color you eyes were.

You smiled at him before you turned to the paramedics that began to replace your presence. They helped him up, and walked him over to the bed that was rolled in by another paramedic. Once he was comfortable (as comfortable as someone with many broken ribs and a concussion could be) he looked back up at you. Bakugou was annoyed to see one of the paramedics talking nervously to you, asking for an autograph. However, the jealously slowly turned into admiration as he watched you beam at the man as you excitedly signed the crinkled piece of paper he had in his pocket.

“My daughter just adores your music, she started learning guitar because of you actually! It’s truly incredible watching her play, just makes me so proud of her.”

Your lip was pouted, as you stood listening to his words. You looked so genuine, so happy that he was telling you this. Bakugou could tell this means the world to you, watching you enthusiastically hugged him. The two of you quickly made your goodbyes, and you immediately turned to look his way. Bakugou would have been embarrassed that he was caught looking at you if you hadn’t beamed at him like that. You jogged over to him, making him chuckle how eager you were to be back in his presence. Bakugou instantly grabbed your empty hand again, not a single ounce of shame for how “down bad” he was acting.

“Talk to you later?”

Your voice couldn’t have been any louder than a whisper, making sure he knew these were words only for him to hear. Bakugou grinned, giving your hand a squeeze.

“Of course.”

Instead of one of your flashing smiles, your whole face softened and a small smile appeared on your face.

“In the meantime then, I’ll definitely be writing a song.”

That’s when Bakugou realized there was no coming back from you. He was officially obsessed, never wanting anything more than your hand in his.

Unfortunately for him, the two of you were rudely interrupted by the dumbass that got him here in the first place (not that Bakugou is complaining). Todoroki loudly coughed, making you jump and him scowl.

“I see you’re in good-“ his heterochromia eyes looked down at Bakugou and your interlocked hands, and then looked back up at Bakugou with a smirk.

“Good hands?”

Yeah, Bakugou definitely got teased for the rest of the day, and soon the rest of the week by all the people half-and-half told. But honestly? Bakugou couldn’t give two shits when had you texting him all day.

Besides, they were just jealous.

Kaminari and Mina especially lost their shit, begging for him to tell them all about you, even asking for your number. Obviously, Bakugou kindly told them to stop asking (he told them to fuck off and mind their fucking business) and soon enough the two of you began dating.

It was so easy being with someone like you. The two of you worked so well together, and you already understood the pressure of paparazzi constantly swarming you like hawks. Crazily enough, the reveal of you guys dating didn’t release until after your one year. Of course there were plenty of news articles and random fans on the internet who speculated it, but you interacted with enough people for your fans to also say you were dating them as well. Besides, the idea of you, an international singer/songwriter dating the number two hero in the world was not something that people could believe easily. But it was the truth, and people everywhere went crazy when you posted a picture of the two of you.

It was the picture of Bakugou picking you up by the waist in his kitchen. You were wearing his shirt and some random sweats because you had just gotten home from a concert the night before. Ochako was the one able to capture this beautiful moment of the couple. You had been teasing him for being able to cook but not bake, and he had enough of your jokes and simply picked you right off your feet. In the picture the both of you were smiling widely, especially Bakugou. When you posted the picture, fans analyzed the picture like crazy.

Bakugou knew he wasn’t the most well liked Pro-Hero, but the amount of people who tried to make a video showing the picture and claiming it was “obvious” that he was abusing you was a little annoying. You always reassured the blond when you caught him watching those videos, turning off his phone and climbing in his lap. His hands happily making his way on your waist as you ran your fingers through his hair while the other hand held his face gently. His eyes would close and you would whisper sweet nothings in his ear, praising him for anything and everything, sometimes even singing the songs you wrote for him.

Bakugou still remembers when the two of you were almost a year into the relationship (ten months and 6 days to be exact) and in the mist of him casually scrolling on TikTok a video of you performing at your concert popped up. He was certainly surprised to see videos already posted, since the concert had quite literally just ended. Obviously he watched the video, adoring how you talked to your fans.

“Now children, calm down so I can talk. I am not gonna talk over your borderline screaming, there’s no way in hell I’m gonna be able to sing after this if I talk like that.”

Bakugou snickered. He always loved when you were sassy and continued to watch.

“So whilst on tour, I’ve had a song stuck in my head,” the crowd went wild, probably thinking you were going to play one of your songs called “stuck in my head.” Your face lit up in realization, and you laughed at the mistake you made.

“Oh my poor babies, I’m so sorry but I am not playing that song.”

You gave your crowd an apologetic smile as they booed you. Bakugou’s eyebrows furrowed, upset as to why you were being booed, but continued to watch nonetheless.

“Oh my gosh get over yourself,” you rolled your eye waiting for the crowd to settle down before starting up again.

“I had like, this chorus just repeating itself over and over again. It was so annoying y’all! I felt like I was going crazy! And what made it even more annoying is that I couldn’t go to my safe place and sit down and write it cus-“

You gestured to your surroundings.

“-I’m on tour.”

The crowd went wild for longer than Bakugou liked, but you let them get it out, shaking your head like you were disappointed but the smile gave you away.

“Instead I had to settle with my oh so very empty tour bus bed, and write the song there. It was literally like, what? 3AM? And I was sitting on that bed with my guitar, notebook, and my laptop. I’m so glad I wasn’t sharing or like in a hotel because I was up until 5…”

You bent over to laugh, and the audience as well. Meanwhile, your now very grumpy boyfriend was about to close the app and text you not to do shit like that. You put on full fledge concerts for crying out loud! You should not be staying up that late just to write a goddamn song.

“And that was last night.”

The concert booed as Bakugou’s patience started to thin. What the hell were you thinking? You even texted him goodnight at like 2! Rest is very important and you need to-

“But I’m glad that I did, because I think this is my new favorite song. And I just can’t wait anymore, so is it okay if I play it for you guys?”

The crowd literally went feral. The person recording was screaming along with every goddamn person at that place. Bakugou was now fully sitting up in his bed, eager to listen to this song. He was a little hurt, he will admit. You always send him a video of the many songs that you write sporadically on this tour, and you’ve written a lot. So why didn’t you do the same thing here? What was so different about this song that he couldn’t be the first to hear it like usual?

“That sounds like a yes,” you reached for one of the many necklaces you were wearing and pulled out a very thin necklace with a familiar pendant. Bakugou immediately recognized it, as it was the one he got for you on your six month anniversary. It was one of the petals of a rose that you saved from your first date. He had it dried and put into a charm of a necklace when he noticed you getting upset that you couldn’t keep the flowers he got you. When he gave it to you, tears were falling down your face as he kissed you. That’s when he swore to himself that if he met any of your exes he wouldn’t leave without giving them a brand new scar.

You pulled it out and kissed it gently, before whispering into it.

“This is for you baby.”

Bakugou’s eyes widened, the crowd losing their minds and you started playing guitar. The two of you would make the smallest hints that you were in a relationship, but never as bold as this. Not that he was complaining.

Secretly he had been wanting to let the public know that you were dating, he wanted everyone to know you were his and he was yours. He was honestly sick of seeing people “ship” him with extras and he especially hated when the same happened to you.

He’s good for my heart but he’s bad for business

Tears me apart when he grants my wishes

All of my friends think I’ve gone crazy

But they don’t know me like my baby~

Bakugou remembers that moment like it was yesterday. His face instantly blossomed a bright blush, and his lips formed a soft smile. The crowd finally settled down after the beginning and he was able to listen to the song, closing his eyes pretending like he was there in the audience. He put the phone up to his ear and laid back down, soaking up every word and every note.

He’s good

It’s bad

The best I’ve ever had

And he’s so nice

It’s sad

He ruined all my plans

And he just makes me so crazy

I know everyone sees

He’ll be the death of me

That’s how he got here, standing in a special area in your sold out venue wearing your newest merch.

And Bakugou Katsuki was terrified.

 This was the first time he had come to see your concert, because last time you toured it was when your relationship was a secret. Now, he sat nervously in his chair, his colleagues on either side of him. You had given all of them tickets, making sure they had the best seats in the house but also allowed them to not be disturbed by fans.

Bakugou was bouncing his leg, picking at his fingernails as he watched the crowd. It seemed that nobody knew they were there, everyone waiting in anticipation of your show. Your music was so diverse, everyone knew that it would contain all sorts of emotions and energies. You were the type of performer who liked to be as close to the audience as possible, you loved adding commentary to your songs during the pauses, making faces, and dancing around. You loved to have fun, and let loose. When you got the green light to plan the tour, you were practically bouncing off the walls of your now shared home. You spent three months planning it, which was a new record for you, before announcing. However, there was just one thing that Bakugou didn’t like about the tour.

He knew absolutely nothing about it. In fact, you made sure of it. Hiding your notebook, changing your laptop’s password, making sure your manager didn’t tell him shit about it. That’s why he was terrified. His partner, his very famous singer/songwriter of a soulmate was about to do the very first night of the tour in Japan and Bakugou didn’t know a thing.

That’s why Bakugou Katsuki was terrified.

Soon enough, the lights began to dim, and people started to stand up. A hush fell over the crowd as the venue blacked out, and the wrist bands on everyone’s wrists lit up.

“Holy shit it’s happening.” Kaminari whispered to Bakugou, grin spreading across his face.

Ochako, Kaminari, and Mina happily took the evening off to see you, while the rest of your invites weren’t able to. Kirishima made Bakugou promise at least one photo of the two of them after the show.

A soft hum came out of the speakers, and suddenly a spotlight appeared to reveal you standing at the very far back of the stage. The crowd went insane, and you walked down the stage.

When it came to your outfits, you always had to keep it comfortable. You loved to jump around dancing, sometimes fall to your knees dramatically. You especially loved to squat. Jumping around in that position and when you stood up you always made sure to flaunt the ass that you worked very hard on in the gym.

You came out strutting down the stage in very baggy and flowy black pants and a very cropped black long sleeve sweater that allowed you to show off the lace bra that went down to your belly button. But that wasn’t where it stopped, nor was it the best part of your outfit. To Bakugou’s surprise you were wearing boots with an obnoxiously thick heel, that were very obviously Dynamite themed.

Bakugou smirked at the sight, taking in the rest of the little details of your outfit. You wore a giant ring on your index finger that was also Dynamite inspired, as a fan gave it to you, and Bakugou could see his initials sewn into the bottom of your sweater.

You stopped at the end of the runway, pulling the microphone away from your face in a dramatic motion. You slowly looked around, taking in your crowd. A smile spread across your face, and when your gaze looked straight forward to look for Bakugou, he made sure to make little sparks from his hands to let you know he was right here. You pointed at him with the finger that had the Dynamite ring on it, and Bakugou honestly felt like it was just you and him in the stadium. You mouthed an ‘I love you’ at him, and Bakugou was now ignoring the new roar from the audience.

“You guys should get married already.” Mina whispered in Bakugou’s ear, and instead of blowing her face up, he just smiled, still looking in your direction.

“I plan on it.”

The first song you sang was one of your oldest ones, which also happened to be a much slower and sadder song. Instead of listening to the grim lyrics (not because they were bad, just because Bakugou hated to remember how bad some of your relationships were and didn’t want to get angry) the hero closed his eyes and listened to your voice. He wanted to take in his environment and all the notes you sang. The song started to drift off midway, which confused Bakugou. His eyes suddenly snapped open when he heard your newest song, which was much more upbeat. He watched you jump in the air and sing the song with much more passion than the original version. The crowd recovered quickly from the switch up and was singing along happily.

You sang a couple more of your newer and upbeat songs, making sure to add new notes to them and even belt a couple of notes to get the crowd excited. You were having so much fun, and Bakugou had never seen you look more alive. This is where you belonged, and he wanted to be right here every time watching.

There was a pause for you to sit down at the edge of the runway. You sat criss-cross, and much closer to the audience for Bakugou’s liking. He always got nervous when you reached out for a fan’s hand, scared that they would do something that could hurt you.

Thankfully, that hadn’t ever happened, and you sat very cutely waiting for the audience to quiet down so you could speak.

“Wow. We’re halfway through already? Well, I think we all know what that means…”

You cocked your head to the side, and a soft piano started to play a familiar rhythm.

“Ladies, gentlemen, and everything in between, get out your tissues. It is now time to remember why you are no longer dating your ex, and for you to be reminded that your trauma isn’t just a thing that makes you funny.”

The crowd screamed, but almost immediately stopped when you began to sing in a much softer and lower register than before. As depressing as these songs may be, Bakugou firmly believes that these types of songs bring out the best in your voice. It allows you to challenge your breath control, and truly sing with so much passion and emotion.

A couple of songs pass, and Bakugou finds you when the stage gets lit up again. You’re in the middle of the runway, standing with your head down waiting for the band to begin. As soon as the piano starts, the crowd screams and yells. This is one of your all-time most popular songs, it was the one that caught a lot of people’s attention and boosted your popularity. Funnily enough, you actually hated this song because you wrote it in high school, so Bakugou was surprised to see you preform it.

“Is this Sick of Losing Soulmates?” Ochako yelled, because of the screaming of your audience.

Bakugou turned to her and confirmed her suspicions, making Mina and Kaminari start screaming along with the audience (as they were doing the entire time).

Bakugou watched as you began to sing, and noticed how you really got into it. You added a lot more dramatic pauses before certain lines, and even speaking some of the lyrics, making it feel more like anger than sadness.

Yeah, I’m sick of losing soulmates

Won’t be alone again

I can finally see you’re as fucked up as me

So how do we begin?

At one point, you laid down on your back, reaching for the sky as you sang your heart out, and Bakugou noticed you choking up a bit at certain lyrics.

We will grow old as friends

I've promised that before, so what's one more in our grey-haired circle, waiting for the end?

Time and hearts will wear us thin

So which path will you take, 'cause we both know a break does exactly what it says on the tin

The song soon ends, and your last pose has you on your knees, head looking down at the floor. The stadium goes pitch dark, including the wrist bands, before they light up again along with your stage. Bakugou sees you wipe a tear off your cheek, and you sit there once more taking in your fans that take the chance to start chanting your name. You put your lips together, closing your eyes and putting your hands on your heart. Your eyebrows are furrowed and Bakugou can tell you’re still crying. In that moment he wanted nothing more than to go to you and hold you, wiping away your tears and replacing them with tender kisses.

You open your eyes, putting the mic back to your mouth and the audience quiets down in order to let you speak.

“Oh boy, I am so overwhelmed by emotions. I mean that was the song that started it all right?”

The crowd was still practically silent, as you’ve trained them well. You get off your knees and get into a more comfortable sitting position (criss-cross of course) and continue.

“I used to absolutely loath that song, because I wrote that when I was at my lowest. I was so sick and tired of love, having to try again over and over again. Every relationship that ended seem to break a piece of me off, and I was honestly starting to give up.”

You let out a broken chuckle, putting your free hand over your eyes momentarily before starting again.

“But then I met Katsuki, in which he literally crashed into my life.”

The crowd stayed silent, but Bakugou could tell they wanted to start screaming. You were not looking at him, and to his surprise Bakugou felt a tear run down his cheek.

“Three years of paradise. I’ve always had a fear of losing you, but it especially hits when I sing songs like that.”

There was a pause, and suddenly Bakugou felt like he was back in that studio where he met you. Staring at you and falling in love all over again.

“I love you baby, forever and always.”

Bakugou smiled, and all that fear that was with him before left. You were his and he was yours, and that’s all that he needed.

“I love you too,” he whispered, and you knew.

Bakugou Katsuki was no longer terrified.

╰── ⋅ ⋅ ─ ✩ ─⋅ ⋅ ──╯

none of the songs quoted are not mine!!! the first one is “Bad for Business” by Sabrina Carpenter, and the second one is “Sick of Losing Soulmates” by dodie

i hope you enjoyed bc boy oh boy i did

literally took me 4 hours to write but i couldn’t pull myself away from the keyboard

i rlly need to start writing other characters for x readers but oh well

#bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugo mha #bakugou katsuki x reader #singer! reader x bakugou katsuki #sobbing #my hero academia #mha #whew #this one is a biggin #definitely got a little too into it #but oh well #i couldn’t get this out of my head so #love love love

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kakuryuminn · 1 year

Text

WE FELL, LIKE BIRDS THAT GOT SHOT IN THE SKY

Tw: Blood, a bit gore. Celestial war.

°What if, mammon died with lilith?

A/n: Kind of connected to my fic in ao3. Where mammon and lilith are siblings in the human world and are chosen to participate at the devildom exchange program. This story is about how they died together.

Celestial realm.

The once white and breathtaking place, now looks ruined. The green grass that angels sleep in, now covered in blood and corpes. The sky covered with a disgusting smell of blood.

That day was unforgettable in the celestial realm.

"Belphie!" The call of his name made the said angel turn around, with eyes widened. "Focus, this is a war!"

When he finally came back to his senses, he looked at the scene infront of him. Corpses, blooded wings, and angels fighting for their dear life.

"... Where's lilith?" Was the only thing he muttered, belphegor had a stern expression but his eyes held fear. "S-she's with Mammon."

Belphegor sighed, a sigh of relief. If she's with mammon, she'll be safe. After all, mammon is the fastest among them, he can protect lilith.

Despite that thought in mind, belphegor flew and searched for the two, asmodeus following behind him, blocking arrows with his spear. Belphegor spotted them at an open space. Beel, levi, and lucifer were a bit close to mammon and lilith. Beel and levi fought with angels after angels, while lucifer was up in the sky, dueling with multiple angels at once.

When belphegor saw that, he took one of his arrows and aimed at one of the angels lucifer was fighting with. The angel screamed and fell, his wings being covered in blood. Belphie could hear some angels yelling the fallen one's name. Screaming in anguish.

Belphegor winced. His hand shook while aiming at the angels. He didn't want to do this. But if he doesn't do it, if he don't kill, he will be killed instead. Or worse, one of his siblings may get killed.

Belphegor looked beneath him, he saw beel struggling to aim. He came down, flying to his twin to help him.

He was tired.

But he doesn't have a choice.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

"Lilith! On your back!" Mammon yelled at his sister, pointing a finger at her. Lilith was quick to move. She shifted around and grabbed her spear, before striking at the angel. It was a good aim.

Mammon flew to her and grabbed her arms, pulling her close. "Listen, you need to go to beel and belphie. You're not safe if you're with me." Well, that was true. Many angels gather around mammon and lucifer. Probably because they were the hardest ones to fight. "If you're with beel and belphie, you can have a strong protection. Are you listening, lilith?" He asked.

Lilith nodded hesitantly. "But how about you?" She asked, worry lacing her voice as her pupils shook. "Lilith." Mammon, once again called her name. But this time, sternly. "Your safety is the most important to me. Don't mind your older brother, i can take care of myself." He reassured, carressing her face and brushing off some of the hair. "You need to listen to me. GO!"

With a single push on the back, lilith flapped her wings wide and flew quickly to the twins. She looked back at mammon, but mammon only gave him a toothy grin, before turning his head around and running forward to the horde of angels. Mammon was fearless, striking every angel with his spear. No angel was spared with his speed.

A skill that even the eldest, from above gaze at him with a proud smile.

When lilith arrived at where her twins at, she looked back again, sighing in relief to see the white haired angel even smiling while fighting. Although she was sure it was a mocking smile.

"Lilith! Where's mammon?" Leviathan, the third eldest asked her. Lilith pointed at the hoard of angels, levi frowned. "He's not there..."

Only then did he see his brother when the angels covering him fell, he saw Mammon's blooded spear. Some of the red, disgusting liquid on his hair and body.

"He's really the same as lucifer. Very fearless even in times like this." Asmo said behind his brothers. Only a few angels came to their direction and fight them. The rest, fighting with lucifer and mammon.

They soon separated, asmo and levi leaving to help lucifer, leaving the triplets alone.

"We should help mammon." Beel told them, pointing at their older brother. Belphie and lilith nodded in agreement, beel being the one who first flew to mammon, belphie behind him, while lilith is behind belphie.

It was a bad decision.

When the three of them flew, they were unaware of multiple angels flying above with bows and arrows. There were 10 of them above.

Beel, belphie, and lilith didn't see them. The sound of metal clanking and screams echoed to their ears as they run.

But, a scream was heard.

"LILITH!" The sound of lucifer and mammon's voices. Lilith stopped. She looked behind her, horror in her eyes as she saw multiple arrows heading her way. She looked back, seeing beel carrying belphie as they both stared at her with clear fear and horror.

"Ah...Bee—"

It was too late. Lilith, the youngest. The only sister they have, was strucked by arrows after arrows. Her once white and beautiful wings, now ruined and blooded. She coughed blood.

Lucifer, was flying fastly, as the angels loaded arrows, pointing it at her direction. All while having cold and spite in their eyes.

Lucifer knows he won't make it. He won't, he won't, he won't—

"LILITH!!!!" Someone shoot past lucifer in an incredible speed, going to his sister in a flash.

He gasped. NO! NONONONONONONONONONO

Mammon went behind his wounded sister, he flapped his wings widely, before turning her sister around to face him. He hugged her, wrapping her wings around her for protection. As he close his eyes.

THWACK! THWACK! THWACK!

Mammon didn't know how many times he have been shot. He only felt pain as the arrows dug deep into his skin, blood oozing out.

He coughed, blood coming out of his mouth. He saw the silhouette of lucifer. His eyes were getting blurry.

The next thing he knew, he was falling. Falling while he hold lilith tightly in his arms, their broken wings feeling numb.

Mammon could hear lilith's breath hitch. She coughed.

"...mmon...?" She mumbled, lifting her face. She stared at him in horror before her eyes filled with tears. Mammon took the shot for her. He was the most damaged as she can see some of the tips of the arrows exposed in his chest.

Mammon's pupils gazed at her, his once blue eyes now dull. He held her tightly, the tie in her hair now loose as her hair followed the wind beautifully.

Mammon smiled at her. "Don't cry..." He told her, blood coming out of his mouth. He used the strength left in him to cradle her close. "Don't cry lilith..." He told her, kissing the crown of her head.

"... I'm sorry! B-because of me...Y-you-!"

"Shhh..."

Mammon opened his mouth, he wiped his sisters tears with his thumb. Some of the blood getting on lilith's cheek. "It's not your fault. Don't cry..."

It was warm.

He could feel the blood. It was warm.

He could also see lilith's pained expression as she wrapped her arms around mammon's neck. "Promise me...promise me that you'll be there—" She choked out. "Promise me that you'll wait for me in the afterlife, please mammon." She begged him. Mammon hates seeing his sister like this. He hates it.

"Of course. Of course I'll wait for you, hm?" He once again smiled, a smile that lilith loved and cherish.

"Lilith, i love you."

When mammon told her that, lilith cried more. She replied to him with an 'i love you too'. Hugging mammon for dear life.

"I'll rest now, okay? I'll hold you tight so you won't get hurt." Mammon carresed his sisters hair, he could smell the unpleasant devildom awaiting for them.

Lilith nodded and closed her eyes, breathing very slowly by the second that pass.

Mammon patted her back, luring her to sleep. Although, this sleep was eternal and not like when she was little.

The second Born's dull eyes blurred. But before they could shut close, he saw black hair and wings far more wider than his. He could see the silhouette of a hand reaching out to them.

Mammon smiled, it was lucifer. He hugged her sister close, she was getting cold now. Lilith would hate it. She hates being cold. Mammon cradled her sister more closer, her head on his chest.

"Wait for me, lilith..."

Mammon closed his eyes, feeling the peacefulness surrounding him. He could almost hear lilith's voice...

He wants to laugh.

Is this how birds feel when they got shot by humans and fell?

Perhaps, he can compare himself to a bird. A bird falling down from the sky.

Ah...

Lilith will be angry and lonely if he made her wait any longer.

...

#mammon #mammon angst #obey me shall we date #obey me angst #obey me #obey me mammon #lucifer angst #lucifer obey me #om! leviathan #om! asmodeus #om! beelzebub #om! belphegor #lilith obey me #the great celestial war #im sorry

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ashes0909 · 6 months

Note

For your writing game! It was probably supposed to be 3 random words but I can’t get it out of my head for Drarry and it be “I fear you” also I hope you are doing good and may all the writing muses go your way!

Not sure if this was what you had in mind, but my brain fixed on the idea and refused to let go. I also tried out a mixed POV fic, which isn't something I've done often, but enjoyed playing with. Hope you enjoy!

-------

I fear...

Harry/Draco; Rated T

“I fear you have become obsessed with Draco Malfoy. Again,” Hermione said, over the brim of her teacup.

Across town, over a shot of firewhiskey, Zabini doled out nearly the very same sentiment. “Harry Potter this, Harry Potter that--You’re completely obsessed with him. Again.”

At the same time, unbeknownst to the one another, Harry and Draco slumped back in their chairs and replied, “It’s not my fault. He’s completely insufferable.”

Their friends were very much over this constant state of existence.

The next morning, Draco did his best to shake Harry Potter out from under his skin. He took the long way around Diagon Alley, so he didn’t have to see Potter’s ridiculously wonderful new Broom and Flying Lesson shop. He avoided the best street carts at his lunch hour, in the off chance that maybe, possibly, Harry would be there too. And while he did, in fact, need to replace his broom oil, he went to a far inferior shop in Hogsmeade instead.

It wasn’t until Draco was getting ready to apparate from Hogsmeade back to his potions shop in the heart of Diagon Alley, that he came to a horrifying realization: in trying to avoid Harry Potter, he spent the entire day thinking about him.

Earlier that same afternoon, Harry had Hermione’s words echoing in his mind. Over and over, he considered how, at so many different moments in his life, he’d become fixated on Draco. Now, it was because they somehow found themselves shop owners on the same street. But the part of him that seethed heat straight into his veins knew that no matter what, he’d find some excuse to focus on Draco Malfoy.

Enough was enough.

The familiar swoop of apparation hit Draco and Harry at the same time, minds fixed on each other, one suppressing his thoughts, the other newly determined. They arrived at Draco’s potion shop with a simultaneous pop.

“Potter--?”

“Malfoy!”

Draco had to do a double take, afraid that his single-focus had brought him to Harry’s shop instead of his own. But no, instead Harry stood surrounded by cauldrons and vials, looking like he was about to charge off into battle.

So, he looked breathtaking.

Harry had gathered his courage but now, in front of Draco, catching sight of his famously pale hair and deceivingly soft features, the words froze in his throat.

Brazen, bold, fearless -- he was a Gryffindor and he could get through this.

“What are you doing here?” Draco asked, breathless.

“Let’s get a drink,” Harry garbled the words, too fast and voice low, but they were out there, in the open. Fear officially conquered.

Draco hadn’t expected a lot from his evening, but there was an unsettling certainty in the pit of his stomach that no matter what, his night’s thoughts would orbit around this man. Mine as well go out to dinner with him. What’s the worst that could happen? What was there to fear? A part of him screamed: everything. But he was ambitious enough to grab onto this opportunity with both hands.

That didn’t mean he had any intention in making it easy for Harry. He did like to see him squirm, after all.

Harry watched as Draco narrowed his eyes, and the expression shouldn't twist behind Harry's groin, but it did. Want mixed with fear, soaked with obsession. But he could tell by Draco’s smirk, he was just as into the idea. “Come on,” Harry pushed. “Say yes, or you're buying.”

Draco barked out a laugh. “That makes no sense at all. You make no sense at all.” Draco pushed past him and walked towards the exit of his potions shop, holding open the door. “You coming?”

Harry rolled his eyes. “You’re going to be insufferable, aren’t you?” he asked with a smile, sliding past the door and onto Diagon Alley’s evening streets. He knew Draco would fall in step at his side.

“I have it on good authority, I can be quite insufferable when it comes to you.”

Harry knocked their shoulders together. It felt like he was on a broomstick, rushing towards the snitch. “I fear you and I have that in common.”

fin

#writing game #drarry #draco/harry #getting together #tumblr fic #fanfiction

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evermourning · 5 months

Note

howdy, ren! Had to dive into my notes and to pinterest for some inspo lol

maybe it isn’t really original, but a while back i saved in my notes full-on oneshots i made in a 3 hour long flight about how some members in skz would meet their future s/o on board…?

I remember for Chan i wrote that he helped them deal with an annoying passenger and then they sat together and played games on his phone, for minho they helped him bc he got a bit afraid when turbulence struck, with hyunjin they drew eachother by accident and mistook/swapped sketchbooks when they woke up…

but i got blocked with my dearest quokka! any thoughts?

it could also be regarding other members, or using any of the scenarios I thought :P

hope you like this! waiting for your ask! <33

WAIT YES THIS IS SO CUTE! OMG 😭 THIS IS SO CRAZY CAUSE I JUST BOUGHT PLANE TICKETS TODAY HELP! HERE ARE MY THOUGHTS ON HANNIE, BUT IF U WANT AN OT8 VERSION JUST ASK!!!

jisung - it was just his luck. of course it had to be him, boarding a flight all by himself. there had been some schedule mixups, chan had told him, a reassuring smile on his lips as he rested one hand on jisung's shoulder. he had a photoshoot, so the other two members of 3racha would fly over the day before.

a pout crossed his face as he sat by the window, mentally going over all of his life choices up until then. did the photoshoot have to be yesterday? now, he was all alone, nothing but the fearful thoughts festering in his brain to keep him company. he didn't want to panic, it wouldn't be good. it would be downright bad. but the staff would take the open seat next to him...right?

wrong. the staff was on the other side of the damn aisle, spouting some excuse that the seat was already taken, since it was a full plane. he stared at the vacant seat, its imaginary passenger haunting his hippocampus. would they be mean? would they recognize him? what would happen?

"excuse me...is this row two, seat b?" a voice, soft and gentle, resonated in his ear. he turned to face the voice's owner, not paying them any attention.

"yeah, i'm in seat a, so- oh my god."

his jaw was dropped. you were the most gorgeous person he'd ever seen. your face, your breathtaking eyes, your supple skin, all entrancing him with minimal effort. in every lifetime, he would travel the world for even a glimpse of your ethereal beauty. his cheeks were so red he almost looked feverish, his eyes wide.

"okay, great! thank you so much, and um...could you help me with my suitcase? i've never been good at getting it into the compartment..." you grinned sheepishly, and jisung shot out of his seat like a rocket.

he was so dorky, tripping over himself as he easily lifted your luggage into the compartment. this was going to be a fun trip.

#evermourning #renny's asks ☄. *.#stray kids #skz #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #han jisung #han skz #han x reader #han stray kids #han jisung x reader #jisung x reader #jisung skz

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bellofthemeadow · 11 months

Text

The Road ahead - ch 4 | Frankie Morales x female reader

Series Masterlist

Previous Chapter

For most of your married life, you dedicated yourself to waiting for Frankie. After each deployment, you patiently awaited his return, longing for the moment when he would be by your side again. During those nights when nightmares consumed his thoughts, you yearned for him to open up to you, hoping that he would find solace in sharing his pain. And as his addiction spiraled out of control, you held onto the hope that he would recognize his problem and seek help. However, despite your countless protests and pleas, you now find yourself waiting for him once more as he ventures off to Colombia, engaged in God knows what.

But this time is different. Determined, you make a solemn promise to yourself: You will never wait for Frankie again.

Rating: M for Mature (18 + no minors allowed)

Word Count: 5.5K

Warning: Applicable for the entire fic / PTSD, drug use and addiction, postpartum depression, abusive familial relationships, self-hatred, unhealthy coping mechanism, explicit sexual content, violence, mentions of suicidal thoughts, super angsty

Chapter Summary: A long overdue confrontation takes place where you have to face Frankie's lies.

Notes: Hello again everyone! Oh my God, I am so excited about this brand-new, shiny chapter!! That entire interaction was what brought me to imagine this fic in the first place. I hope you all like as much as I had fun writing it (I am a big slut for angst so beware). Thank you again for the support and let me know what you all think <3 <3 <3

Letting Go

Letter #1

August 19th, 2008

To the prettiest girl at the bar,

Hey there... So, before I go any further, I need to apologize for making my getaway from your place that morning in such a rush. I had to be on base at 0530, and I didn't want to disturb your sleep. Seriously, you looked so peaceful in that cozy bed of yours. If I had any type of artistic talent, I would've painted a masterpiece to capture that moment. I mean, I'm no Picasso or anything, but just imagine the most breathtaking sight you can ever imagine and that's exactly how you looked that morning.

I really hope I'm not coming across as strange or anything by reaching out to you like this. You see, as I was making my exit, I happened to glimpse your address on one of those letters sitting on your kitchen counter. And one of the perks of being an army pilot (aside from flying, of course), is that I tend to have a decent memory and your address stuck with me long enough to scribble it down later at base. Please, please don't get the wrong idea here! I know it might sound a bit, um, stalker-ish, but I promise you, that's not what's going on in the slightest.

I got to admit, I'm feeling a little shy about writing this letter. Swear to you, I've never done anything like this before! It isn’t some cheesy move that army dudes pull to charm the ladies (well, maybe some do), but I promise you, that isn’t my intention at all! I'm afraid I might be rambling here, and the more I go on, the more I feel like I'm messing this up!

To be honest, I didn't know what to do with your address. But it kept catching my eye every morning when I rolled out of bed and right before I hit the hay. The time we spent together just kept playing on a loop in my mind. And you? You've been sticking to my thoughts like glue.

That night we had; it was like sparks ignited in my head. I couldn't let it slip away without taking a shot, without letting you know how I’ve been feeling these past two weeks since that night.

I guess it's kind of unconventional, reaching out to you like this with a letter. But something inside me just wants to explore if there's something even more special that could sprout between us. I can't get your smile out of my head, or the perfect way we connected. It’s never happened to me before. It's like fate brought us together that night. Like our souls were destined to weave together. You’re always on my mind, and I'm aching to learn more about the beautiful soul that's stolen my heart.

So here I am at 3 am in my bunk, writing this letter while holding my breath and hoping you're open to taking a leap with me.

I'll be here, waiting for your reply. But please, know this: if what I felt, that connection I think we shared, doesn't resonate with you, there's no need to feel bad. I don't want you to feel obligated or burdened by any expectations.

Our time together was a precious moment, one that I hold dear and will hold dear forever. And if our hearts don't align in the same way, I understand. We all navigate our own paths, and sometimes they lead us in different directions.

Please, don't feel guilty if you choose not to respond. Our connection, albeit short, was a gift. I cherish the memories we created, and I will hold onto the possibility of what could have been with a grateful heart.

Wishing you nothing but happiness and fulfillment,

The terrible wingman from the bar,

(Francisco Morales)

Letter # 2

September 2nd, 2008.

Dear Francisco,

Your letter was a real shock, to say the least. I woke up the morning you left feeling so empty without you there. I combed through the entire house hoping to find a clue, maybe you had scribbled down your number somewhere. I must have deep-cleaned my apartment twice in the hope of finding a scrap of paper with your name on it. At some point, I thought it might have been a dream, that I had imagined that amazing, gorgeous, and generous man with whom I spent the night. I was sure I was crazy and then, out of nowhere, your letter came. It made me question whether you enjoy giving ladies emotional scares. I’ve barely known you for a full day and it already feels like being on a rollercoaster ride. Is this what life is for you Francisco? The helicopter pilot, always seeking a new high?

I want you to know that there's no need for you to worry. The connection we experienced that night has also stayed with me, occupying my thoughts ever since. It's as if the memory of our time together has become an integral part of myself, refusing to fade away. Your letter touched me in a way that no one else ever has. It was the most romantic and adorable gesture anyone has ever done for me.

I must confess, I feel deeply flattered by the lengths you've gone to express your feelings for me. It's not something you encounter every day—a man putting so much effort into writing a letter to a girl he spent just one night with. And while I cannot deny that such attention could have easily ventured into the realm of being slightly creepy, there is something inexplicable about your gestures that managed to bypass any unease within me.

I can't help but wonder what that means for you and me. Maybe, just as you said, it was fate that brought us together that night.

Francisco, now that you've opened the door to your world, I don’t intend to shut it close. My desire to know you better has blossomed into something more profound. I yearn to uncover the layers of your being and to understand the depths of your passions, dreams, and weaknesses.

Every time I close my eyes, the memory of your hands caressing my skin resurfaces, leaving an indelible mark on my senses. It's as if your touch awakened a dormant part of me, igniting a fire that I never knew existed. I find myself longing for the warmth of your embrace, the tenderness in your eyes, and the sound of your laughter that brought music to my ears.

But, Francisco, I also want to be honest with you. Your sudden disappearance left me confused and uncertain. I need reassurance that you are equally invested in seeing where this might go. I need to know that you won't disappear again without a trace. My parents fought constantly when I was a child. So for me, communication is essential, and I believe that openness and honesty are paramount to laying strong foundations for whatever this might become.

If those terms are agreeable, I will wait for your letter impatiently. In the meanwhile, please take care and make sure to prioritize your safety and try to avoid taking unnecessary risks for me. I can't help but worry about you, and I want nothing more than for you to stay out of harm's way as much as possible.

Warmly

The girl from the bar

Letter # 17

April 19, 2009.

Hola preciosa,

Once again, last night you appeared in my dreams, as you so often do. But this time, it felt unbelievably real, like a distant yet familiar memory that I couldn't quite grasp. We were together at your place, surrounded by warmth and coziness while raindrops fell outside. It was just the two of us, lost in our own little world, wrapped in the comfort of each other's presence. Although the exact details escape me, I vividly remember the way you touched me, as if your fingers left an indelible mark on my skin. If given the chance, I would choose to spend my last moments in your arms, savouring the most beautiful thing of all—your love.

Those mere four days we spent together back in January were nothing short of a cruel tease. It's as if every time I lay my eyes on you, my love for you sprouts like an overenthusiastic weed, making it increasingly excruciating to bid you farewell each time. I'm still amazed at how I managed to be only fifteen minutes late for base that day. Let's just say those extra rounds of push-ups were a small sacrifice in exchange for the extra pleasure of your company.

As I write this, Benny has decided it's the perfect time to hover behind me, boasting about his self-proclaimed status as the brilliant mastermind behind us. Can you believe him? As if his presence that night we met magically transformed him into a love guru. Anyway, Benny says hello, as do Will and Santi, although you haven't met them yet. I truly hope that the next time we all have time off from base, you'll have the chance to meet them. Those guys are like brothers to me, and I really want you to get to know them. I'm certain they'll like you as much as I cherish you.

I know that until now, we've kept our personal lives somewhat separate, with your work at the library, your family, and your friends, and the same goes for me. But now, I want you to be an integral part of my life, a constant presence. Even when I'm away, I want to know that I am yours and you are mine. You know, I've been doing a lot of thinking since January (Yes it happens often before you say anything), and I've come to realize that I can no longer imagine my life without you by my side. When I think about the future, I see you right there beside me. But if I try to imagine a life without you, it feels incredibly dark, and I feel like everything would lose its meaning.

I know this might sound completely insane. I know people would say that we haven't been seeing each other long enough for these kinds of declarations. But Hermosa, when you know, you know.

When I return from base, all I want is to hold you in my arms until they fall off. I want to be able to hold your hand as we stroll through town, and I want to shout from rooftops that you are mine! Even now, when I look at the picture you gave me, it fills me with a warm feeling that envelops my entire body, and I can't help but proudly show your picture to everyone, telling them how lucky I am that a girl like you would even remotely look at someone like me. You inspire me to be a better person, my lovely one. Everything feels worthwhile with you. I can't imagine a world where we're not together, and I want to think about you every single day for the rest of my life.

My dearest love, you are the sky that stretches above me. Just as the sun illuminates the world on bright days, you radiate warmth and light, filling my heart with boundless joy. When clouds gather and cast their shadows, it is you who transforms the room, turning even the gloomiest moments into something serene and comforting. I know that together we can weather any storms that may come our way.

My love, until Uncle Sam lets us be together again, I will keep on finding my comfort in those four days we shared in January. Those precious moments have woven themselves deep into my heart, and they hold a special place that no distance could ever diminish. I cannot wait to be home with you and create new memories to intertwine with them.

Please take care and know that I love you a little bit more every day.

Yours forever,

Frankie

Letter # 18

April 25th 2009

My sweet Frankie,

Your letter moved me to tears when I first read it. After I put it down, I picked it up again and found myself crying even more. I was afraid that I was the only one experiencing such intense emotions. I worried that perhaps you were more interested in a casual connection and that we might not be fully aligned in our desires for each other and our relationship. However, I'm relieved to discover that I'm not alone in feeling this deeply. Thoughts of you consume my mind constantly, and those days we spent together in January remain some of the most incredible moments of my entire life.

Frankie, I believe you complete me. You fill that void within me that I've always sensed, like finding the perfect missing puzzle piece to finish a picture. You are that missing piece, and since meeting you, my life has finally felt whole.

I couldn't care less about what others may say or think about us, Frankie. You are everything to me, and I want to shout it from my windows so that the whole world can hear. And if anyone wants to say that it's moving too quickly, then to hell with all of them! Every day, I find myself yearning for your presence beside me. I come across little things that remind me of you, and it makes me wish you were here with me. For instance, just yesterday at work, I was going through the donation bin and I stumbled on a children's book about helicopters. It instantly painted a picture in my mind of a little Frankie flipping through the colourful pages, and it filled me with so much warmth and affection.

Frankie, I also really want our lives to blend together. Meeting your friends would be amazing, and I hope you'll get to know mine too. I already had a great time with Benny, so I'm sure your other friends are just as awesome. Since I know how important they are to you, I'm genuinely excited about building bridges with them. I know it's uncertain when you'll be allowed off base or if there's a chance you might be sent far away from me. But maybe, just maybe, the next time you have some leave, we could start building this life together. Waiting any longer feels unbearable to me.

Until we can be together again, my dearest love, you will remain in my heart and appear in my dreams, bringing me some moments of respite while I wait for you. Despite the distance that separates us, my passion for you burns brightly and the flame of my love will keep burning ever bright regardless of the physical divide. With each passing day, I find myself yearning for the next time I will see you, but in the meantime, I will treasure the memories we have started to weave together. And I will find comfort in their warmth and hold onto the hope that our love will grow even stronger with every beat of our hearts.

Yours forever,

Letter # Too many to keep track of

June 12th, 2011

Mi cielo,

Do you remember that summer two years ago? Because I do. I had a two-week leave, and we went to the Miller's for a BBQ. You were wearing a beautiful blue dress that made you look like the sky on a clear summer day. God, you were so beautiful. We were having a great time when Benny told a stupid story that made you laugh so hard that your drink came out of your nose. I remember how embarrassed you got. But then you turned to me, and the embarrassment seemed to melt from your shoulder, and you couldn't stop laughing, your eyes were twinkling like the stars. It was such a beautiful sight and that's when I knew deep down that one day, I would marry you. You would be my wife, someone I would always hold, protect, and cherish until the end of time.

And today, my love, that day has arrived. You know how I struggle in front of a crowd, mi cielo. My words tend to stumble, and I find it challenging to maintain my voice. It's as if all the words jumble up in my throat, eager to escape all at once, resulting in a tangled mess of sentences. That's why I've chosen to write my vows to you in a letter, just like we've been exchanging since the day we first met. You once told me that you could see the truest version of me when I write to you, and I hope that on this special day, through this letter, I can make the side of me that can truly convey the depth of my love for you appear. Better than my spoken words ever could.

My beloved, from this day forward, I make you this lifelong promise. I promise to hold you close, to always offer comfort and support whenever you need it. You can count on me to be there, I will aim to be a steadfast presence in your life, like a rock you can always lean on. I will protect you and care for you for as long as live like a shield guarding against any storms that may come our way. No matter what challenges we face, I will be yours, never doubt that.

But mi cielo, my love for you goes beyond the grand moments that I hope will mark some of our journeys together. I vow to cherish you in the simple gestures also, where I think our love shines the brightest. Its with the gentle touch of our intertwined fingers, the way our laughter always seems to harmonize and in the unspoken understanding that always passes between us without the need for words.

As we walk side by side through the tapestry of life, I promise to be your faithful lover, always by your side, supporting you in every step you take. I will celebrate your victories with joy and stand with you during the challenges we encounter along the way. Together, we will continue to create a beautiful life that I cannot wait to keep on building with you

My beloved, today I pour forth these vows from the depths of my heart. They are not fleeting words but an enduring pledge, a testament to my unwavering love and devotion. As the days unfurl, my affection for you shall only deepen, like roots reaching ever further into the soil. I am filled with gratitude and blessed to call you my partner, my confidant, and my dearest friend.

Today I will say yes to forever with you and I know it will be the sweetest promise of all.

Te amaré siempre

Your Francisco

______________________________________________________________

"I want you to explain whatever the hell this is, Frankie. And no lies this time."

Frankie freezes. He cannot tear his eyes away from the 3 little baggies neatly placed in a row in front of you. Words get stuck in his throat as he tries to find something, anything to say to you.

"You've got nothing to say? Well, let me fill in the blanks for you, Frankie. I found one of these tucked away in your old boots, and the other one in your work drawer. I must admit, I'm still completely fucking baffled. How could you? How could you bring that into our home, Frankie? Especially when you're well aware of how absolutely unacceptable it is, especially with the baby."

Frankie looks around frantically, searching for an explanation. "How did you..."

"How did I find those? Well, I'm so glad you asked, Frankie." A surge of anger fuels your words as you take a step closer, your finger pointing accusatorily towards the door. "Let me shed some light on the precise moment when your little plan crumbled, right there in the car. The fucking car!!!" Your voice slices through the air, causing Frankie to wince.

"I had to learn from Benny and Will how you got back on cocaine! They slapped me in the face with the truth about your lies, how you’ve been deceiving me from the moment the plane touched the ground! How could you not tell me, Frankie? I thought we were doing well; you promised you would talk to me if things were getting hard!"

You take a deep breath, attempting to sort through the jumble of words clamouring to escape all at once. Emotions, accusations, fears, and disappointments vie to be hurled at Frankie.

"Well, let me tell you, hearing about how much your husband loves lying to you from Will and Benny was utter and complete shit! So, I thought I could let myself have a cigarette to help swallow that bitter pill. I knew you stashed some in the dashboard. But what did I find there? Not fucking cigarettes, Frankie! COKE? In the dashboard, really?! You've already had your damn piloting license revoked. Do you want to end up in jail on top of everything? Have you any clue what the cops would do if they caught you with this shit? Goddamn it, Frankie, how could you do this to me? How could you do this to Ella?"

Your voice quivers as you struggle to catch your breath. Years of bottled-up frustration and the pain of Frankie's betrayal finally overflow. Yet Frankie remains silent, avoiding your gaze and looking down at his own shoes in shame.

“FUCKING SAY SOMETHING” You roar as tears of anger start to fall down your face “You can’t just lie to me for weeks and hide cocaine in our home and not say anything!”

"Mi ciel..." Frankie softly starts, but you snap back, "Don't call me that, Frankie! You don’t have any right to call me that, especially not now!" The weight of your words hits Frankie, and his face fills with anguish.

"Please, you have to believe that I'm so damn sorry. I never meant for any of this. I wasn't going to take any of it, I fucking swear..." You scoff, cutting him off, "Oh, you swear? You've got cocaine in your goddamn boots, and you expect me to believe you weren't going to take any? Fuck, do you even have some on you now?" Swearing more than you’ve ever in your life, you realize you've unleashed a torrent of profanity that you can't seem to control. It's as if a dam has burst within you, and you're either unable or unwilling to stop it.

Frankie's silence hangs heavily in the air, his right-hand trembling with restless anxiety. A wave of numbing unease washes over you, and in a voice barely above a whisper, you manage to muster the words, "Frankie, do you have cocaine on you right now?" Frankie's hand, consumed by nerves, instinctively dives into his breast pocket, retrieving a small baggie. The tension in the room intensifies as he places it alongside the others on the table, its size and contents mirroring the rest.

Silence echoes in the room.

"Get out," you say with a stern voice.

"Wait, wait! I'm so damn sorry. I swear, I wasn't planning on touching any of it. It's just... knowing it's there, somehow it eases the pain that I can’t seem to get out of? But I promise you, I had no real intentions of actually using it. Please, please believe me!" Frankie pleads desperately, his voice trembling with a mix of fear and anguish.

"Are you even hearing the words coming out of your own mouth? Maybe you can fool yourself, but you can't fool me. Not anymore. If it was just me, maybe I could brush it off, but I won't let Estrella be exposed to that" you say unwaveringly, though deep inside, the pain of seeing Frankie's face twisted with anguish and devastation pierces your heart. "And let me be crystal clear, Frankie. I don't owe you a damn thing! You're the one who lied, the one who got lost in that haze, the one who chose drugs over your own damn family. Not me. Well, guess what Frankie? I've hit my breaking point."

"Hermosa, please, I'm begging you from the depths of my soul. I promise to change, to become a better person. I'll go to therapy, find a sponsor—whatever it takes to make things right. Please, don't do this to us," Frankie pleads desperately, his voice filled with pain and heartache as if every word is a cry for salvation. “I can’t bear the thought of a life without you, of losing the love that has defined everything for so long. Please hermosa” Frankie’s voice cracks and almost makes you flinch in your resolve. But you steel yourself.

"Don't put the blame on me, Frankie. I've already given you all the support I could. I've respected your silence, comforted you through your nightmares, and endured being pushed away. I've watched you withdraw into yourself, and nothing I did or said seemed to make a difference! I thought that if you didn't want to talk to me, it would be better if you spoke with a professional. I've made efforts to get you into therapy, rescheduling appointments when you didn't like the therapist, and even searched for support groups for veterans in the city, despite knowing well that you've never attended any of them. I've been working double shifts since before Ella was born because you've been grounded. I've held this family together with every ounce of my strength. I've pushed and pushed, but now, Frankie, I'm exhausted. I can't push anymore. What I need from you now is to leave and help yourself," you explain, your voice laden with exhaustion.

"What about Ella? Are you going to deny me the chance to see my own daughter?" Frankie's voice quivers with a mixture of anguish and frustration, as he feels himself losing control. In his desperation, he resorts to lashing out, aware of the vulnerabilities he can exploit, quite like the skilled military man he is, used to exploiting weaknesses in an opponent's defences.

"I can't believe you would even ask me that," you reply, feeling hurt. Frankie avoids your eyes, his own filled with shame for his hurtful words. "I'm not a monster. Of course, you can see Ella. But deep down, we both know it would be better for her if her father were to take care of himself," you continue in a softer tone. "I've tried to heal for you, Frankie, but now I realize this isn't healthy. This is a step you need to take on your own. I'm tired, and I can't do this anymore."

"What the hell happened to 'for better or for worse'? You promised me we'd face any storm together, but the moment things get tough, you fucking disappear," Frankie's voice loudly fills the air.

Raising your gaze, you respond defensively "That's just not fair, and you know it." Letting out a heavy sigh, you gather the strength to continue, "Frankie, I've done everything I can to support you, but it's becoming painfully clear that my love and help have only pushed you deeper into whatever hell you are in right now. Damn it, maybe my mom was onto something. Maybe I am broken or completely unlovable. Maybe there's something wrong with me if my own husband can't trust his wife and turns to drugs instead." Tears well up as you wrap your arms around yourself, the weight of sobs stuck in your throat. The raw emotions in your voice make it clear that this pain cuts deep.

"No, no, no, Mi cielo, don't say that. I am so, so sorry. I didn't mean any of it, fuck, I didn't mean any of it. I know you tried; I know you've been trying for so long. You are not unlovable; you are the most amazing woman in the world. I am the one who doesn’t deserve you, I am the one who has never deserved you. Fuck I can’t believe I would say that to you, how could I make you feel like that." Frankie's voice loses its strength.

"None of this is your fault; it's all on me. I'll do whatever it takes. I'll go and seek help, and I promise you, I'll become the man that both you and Ella deserve," Frankie's voice quivers with remorse as he slowly approaches you, his arms outstretched, seeking to bring you into a comforting embrace.

But you are unable to bear your husband’s touch just yet and so you raise one trembling hand while keeping the other tightly wrapped around yourself, motioning for him to halt. "No, please... I can't handle your touch right now. I... I know I'll flinch, and it's not what you need, what Ella needs," you express with a quiver in your voice, a delicate blend of vulnerability and unwavering determination. "I'll be at work tomorrow, from 8 am to 6 pm, and Mrs. Hu will be taking care of Ella. You can come and collect anything you need during that time."

Frankie's sobs grip him overwhelmingly, tears cascading down his face like a torrent, but he manages to muster a nod of acceptance before slowly making his way toward the door. Just as his trembling hand reaches for the doorknob, he pauses, his gaze locked with yours, his voice barely a whisper choked with emotion.

"I'm really, really sorry, Mi cielo. The pain I've caused you is too much, and I carry the weight of my mistakes like a heavy burden. I want you to know that I take full responsibility for hurting our relationship and our family. It's all my fault, and I can't even find the words to express how deeply I regret everything."

His voice trembles, revealing the desperation in his heart as he goes on, “But please, trust me when I tell you that I won't give up. I won't let cocaine define who I can be. I'll find a way, no matter how tough the road ahead, to mend the broken parts of myself. I'll seek the help and guidance I need to heal, to become the husband and father that both you and Ella deserve."

And with that, he gathers the strength to turn away. His footsteps gradually fade as he leaves the room, leaving behind the lingering echoes of what you hope is Frankie’s sincere promise.

As the door closes, you crumble to the ground, consumed by doubt, pain, and anxiety. The weight of your actions bears down heavily, suffocating any shred of certainty. Questions flood your mind: Have you betrayed the sacred promises of your marriage? The thought gnaws at your conscience, tormenting you relentlessly. Perhaps, if you had been more understanding, more accommodating, this heart-wrenching situation could have been prevented. The self-blame intensifies, distorting your sense of self-worth into a hollow mockery.

Frankie has barely been gone for a few seconds, and yet your heart screams to chase after him. The urge to fix what's broken, to salvage the crumbling remnants of your relationship, grips you with an iron fist. But amidst the chaos of emotions, a flicker of clarity emerges. This painful separation, as agonizing as it feels, is something you need. It's a painful necessity for your own well-being, for the sake of Ella, and for the survival of your fractured family.

Trembling with uncertainty, you repeat to yourself like a desperate mantra, "You need this. You need this." Each word echoes with a haunting mix of determination, fear, and hope, reminding you of the bitter truth that sometimes, the most agonizing path is the only way forward.

You find yourself repeating the words over and over again, the echoes resounding through the shattered fragments of your soul. It becomes a desperate mantra, a chant that reverberates within the hollow chambers of your being: "You can't flinch. You mustn't flinch. You can't flinch. You mustn't flinch." Each repetition, like a plea to yourself, carries the weight of your determination to stay strong, to withstand the emotional turmoil that engulfs you.

Exhaustion eventually overtakes you, guiding your weary steps towards yours and Frankie's bedroom – now yours alone for the foreseeable future. As you reach the edge of your bed, a profound emptiness permeates your soul, accentuating the hollow void within. A sight catches your attention: the green duvet carelessly tossed on the floor, a remnant of the hasty morning departure.

With a heavy sigh, you pick up the comforter, its fabric still carrying traces of Frankie's presence. Bringing it close to your face, you inhale deeply, drawing in his lingering scent, a bittersweet reminder of the love that once thrived in this room. Wrapping yourself in the duvet, you cocoon your fragile frame, seeking solace in its familiar itchy warmth. The world around you fades away as you surrender to a dreamless slumber, where you hope to find some respite from the relentless ache in your heart.

Next Chapter

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jawritter · 1 year

Text

My Brother’s Keeper

Chapter 7

Summary: Y/N, Sam’s roommate, so far have a pretty good thing going. Both work and function around one another well. What happens when his big brother comes down for the holidays with his mysterious past, mixed with Sam’s own mysterious previous life? Can Y/N and the grumpy older brother find a way to get along? Or will it be a not so happy holidays at the Winchester house?

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Plus Sized!Reader x Sam

Word Count: 2k

Prompt: Christmas Proposal

Written for: @spnchristmasbingo

Rating: Mature (because of future chapters, this story is 18 + only, and not fit for minor consumption.)

Warnings: Things are discussed.... Mention of Dean’s past.

(Also, I know this is a bit of a different take on the prompt itself, I hope this is okay.

A/N: This is the first Christmas fic I have written in a long time! You guys will get this one real time, and I hope to finish it before New Years! Fingers crossed! Anyways, This fic is unbeta’d, so all mistakes are my won! Feedback is golden! My work is 18+ only! No minors! Thanks so much for reading!

Main Masterlist

Dean’s POV:

Dean shifted under the weight against his chest. He was warmer than he should have been. Warmer than he’d been in years. It was nice, and he was doing all he could to hold it together and not move an inch, because somehow, he knew, he just knew, the moment he opened his eyes to reality, the moment he let himself wake up, that moment would be over, and he would be cold again; alone.

He couldn’t remember having a nightmare the night before. It was stunning. It was the first night that he’d slept nightmare free in, well, years. Since before the bad hunt that almost killed him. Usually, no matter how much he drank, no matter how much exhausted himself, threw himself into work, every time his eyes closed, he was brought back to the same recurring nightmare, and was left alone. He didn’t want to wake up to that reality again.

A shift on top of him, a hand moving up his chest sent his eyes flying open on instinct, and his heart hammered to a stop in his chest. There she was, sound asleep laying on top of him. It was a sight that he found breathtaking. She was so beautiful when she was asleep. It made his breath catch on the way out of his slightly gaped mouth, and for a moment, she stirred again, but under some blessing, she didn’t wake up. Memories of the night before filled his mind, memories of her lips on his, his arms around her. Her taste. The way she felt perfect against him. It was too good to be real, but if this was a dream, he didn’t want to wake up. Somehow, they must have fallen asleep on the couch, but alcohol had made his brain a little hazy, and he couldn’t remember exactly what happened beyond the time they spent attached at the lips.

A throat clearing from across the room had him reaching for a gun that wasn’t there, and his eyes shot over to find his baby brother, his long legs crossed, a cup of coffee in his hand, and an impish smirk on his face as he glared at his older brother, eyes twinkling. Fuck. He didn’t help that his dick decided to twitch at even the slightest movement she made on top of him. This could only end in utter embarrassment.

“Morning,” Sam whispered, and Dean just blinked at him before looking back down at Y/N to make sure she was still sound asleep, pulling the blanket over her a little tighter against the cold in the room.

“You know it’s creepy to stare at people while they’re sleeping right?” Dean whispered through his teeth, and Sam all but snorted into his coffee with glee.

“Looks like someone had a great night,” Sam continued, it was almost as if he was damn near proud of himself, and honestly, just for shits and giggles, had Y/N not been asleep on top of him, Dean would have probably punched him just to clean that smug little look off of his face.

“Nothing like what you’re thinking happened,” Dean insisted, narrowing his eyes at his baby brother.

“Oh I know that,” Sam insisted, sitting his cup down on the end table next to him. “The walls in this old house are thin, I think if things would have progressed more than what they did, I would have heard it. I’m only a room away from the living room after all.”

“Then what’s up with the fucking smug little smirk,” Dean fired back, suddenly more worried about defending Y/N’s honor against whatever pervy little thought he thought that Sam might be having than his own embarrassment at what thought might have happened.

Sam shook his head and rolled his eyes. “Dean, easy, I’m not judging you guys. In fact, I’m all for it. If you hadn’t figured that out by now.”

Dean’s mouth opened and closed for a moment like a fish out of water. Fuck he wanted to yell at him, throw something at him. Anything! But Y/N was still sleeping, and he would die before he disturbed her. So he’d have to settle for glaring, which wasn’t nearly as satisfying.

Sam snorted in laughter, carefully covering his face so as to not make too much noise.

“You little shit,” Dean said after a moment to compose himself. “Does Y/N know—”

“Nope, and she doesn’t need to know,” Sam affirmed. “This wasn’t really about her. Not really. I mean, Y/N is my friend, and I want the best for her too, but Dean, you need that girl. I’ve thought about it since I met her.”

"I'm not understanding Sammy, you're gonna have to be blunt here."

"Dean, when you lost Sarah, I thought it was gonna kill you, more so than that hunt. I've seen you walk through some pretty dark shit all of our lives, and even though I wasn't physically there for the worst of it, I was watching. I've never seen you spiral like that. I should have stepped in; I should have been there."

"Sam, I've told you—"

"Stop," Sam interrupted, "let me finish."

Dean nodded, his hand cooking up to brush the hair away from Y/N's face that had fallen there while she slept. He was pretty sure if the weight and warmth of her were not holding him down, he'd never make it through this conversation.

"When I met Y/N, she just… reminded me of you. I could always see the two of you working together. The more I got to know her, the closer we became, the more I became sure of it. The only reason I waited as long as I did to put the two of you in the path of each other was because you were still grieving."

"Ever thought that just maybe when she finds out more about me, she will run away screaming," Dean questioned, afraid to really say it allowed. Just in case she was awake, and he didn't know it.

"She's stronger than you give her credit for Dean. The only reason I haven't told her myself is because I thought I'd let you make that decision on your own."

Dean swallowed thickly around the sudden knot in his throat. He'd never cried in front of Sam. Even when he was a child, he'd find somewhere to hide. Never let the weakness show. The only time he'd ever let a tear slip was the night he thought he was gonna die. This gripped him tight though, and for a moment, he thought he was gonna lose it.

"She can help you Dean, just let yourself let her."

Dean nodded, subconsciously gripping her tighter. He wanted her to put him back together, he really did.

"Let me make you this proposal," Sam stated, suddenly putting on the lawyer, and Dean had to check himself to keep from snorting at the absurdity of it all.

"Move down here with us," Sam said. "With Y/N and I."

"What?" Dean questioned.

"Move in here," Sam said again. "You can open an agency here to still do your private investigation. I'm a lawyer, I can help even. Start over Dean, start over with us, with Y/N. Leave the hurt and those memories behind you."

"It's not that easy Sammy. What if your plan backfires, and Y/N doesn't want me. I'm so fucked up man, what if she doesn't want to deal with that?"

"Have some faith Dean, trust me. You don't have to give me an answer this morning, just think about it. Okay?"

"Okay," Dean agreed after a moment of eternal struggle. "Okay, I'll think about it."

Sam nodded as he stood, seemingly Satisfied. "Good. I'll leave you two alone and go make some breakfast."

Sam started to walk away but stopped short of the door to the kitchen.

"Dean, she's crazy about you man, charm her socks off."

Y/N’s POV:

Y/N stirred slowly, her head was pulsing this morning. She’d bypassed the headache from Sam’s eggnog, but the drinking from whiskey poker apparently had done her in worse than she’d thought. Honestly, other than the time that she’d spent making out with Dean on the couch, the night before was a little foggy.

That’s when the surface beneath her shifted slightly, and she remembered with a jolt that made her eyes pop open as if someone had shocked her. Dean, she’d fallen asleep on the couch with Dean, last night wasn’t a fever dream, it really happened. She sat up suddenly, only to have Dean’s arms encircle her, and stabilize her as she swayed slightly in his grip.

“Whoa! Easy tiger!” Dean chuckled. “Don’t wanna make yourself sick sitting up that fast.”

Y/N grimaced as the blood rushed from her head to the rest of her body, “fuuck!” She groaned, as she closed her eyes and opened them again to see Dean’s smirking face as he lowered her back down onto his chest.

“Just let yourself adjust, you’re good, I gotcha,” he assured her.

“I’m never drinking like that again,” she murmured, and Dean reached for a glass of water with a straw in it, placing the straw to her lips in a silent demand to drink.

“Oh yeah you will sweetheart,” he chuckled. “You just need to get some fluids in ya, maybe a good greasy breakfast, and you’ll be ready to do it again.”

Y/N doubted that as she looked around the room, realizing that Dean and Y/N were still alone in the living room.

“What time is it?” she questioned, and Dean turned slightly to look at the clock that was just over the mantel.

“Just after ten in the morning,” he answered, and she groaned again, hiding herself slightly under the covers.

Ten in the morning, that means Sam is up, and if Sam is up, then he’d saw her laying on the couch with his older brother.

That’s when the reality of what happened between the pair of them last night started to weigh in on her, and she couldn’t help but wonder, where does this leave her with Dean? What’s going to happen now? I mean, nothing more happened than just making out, like a couple of fucking teenagers, but still, what does this mean? Did it mean anything to Dean at all? Or was she just something to do when nothing better was around, and he’s snowed in here and can’t leave?

Chapter 8 HERE!!!

Forever:

@demongirl1996

@as-lost-as-sams-shoe

@jensenslady79

@spnwoman

@stoneyggirl2

@unabashed-lover-of-fictional-men

@stixnstripesworld

@fullwattpadmusictree

@nancymcl

@christycreature

@whiskey-infused-dreams

@supernatural79impala

@deandreamernp

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@slamminmine

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@i-love-superhero-movies

@lyss-dw79

@magssteenkamp

@lemondropirwin

@squirrelnotsam

@hobby27

@spnbaby-67

@mrsjenniferwinchester

@defenderrosetyler

@thecreatiivecorner

@vicmc624

@busy-bee-angel-misska

@justanotherwinchester

@brilovesdeanwinchester

@idksupernatural

@lyarr24

@emoryhemsworth

@dean-winchesters-gardian-angel

@flamencodiva

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@thoughts-and-funnies

@teresa-67

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@peaches007

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@writercole

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@b3autyfuldisast3r

@donnaintx

@maliburenee

@the-family-business67

@agirlwithdemonblood

@captainsoldiergirl

@twinkleinadiamondsky

Jensen and Dean’s Babes

@deans-baby-momma

@impalaslytherin

@perpetualabsurdity

@msmarvelouswinchester

@akshi8278

@love-jackles

@irmcpar

@pink-sparkly-witch

@deanwinchestersspinsterwitch

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@charred-angelwings

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#my brother's keeper #spnchristmasbingo #spnchristmasbingo2022 #dean winchester #dean winchester series #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x y/n #dean x reader #dean x you #dean x y/n #dean winchester x plus sized reader #dean winchester x plus sized you #x reader inserts #spn fanfiction #spn fanfic #spn series #jawritter #jensen ackles

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baoshan-sanren · 1 year

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best cdramas I’ve watched since the last one of these posts in 2022 (and some I’m still looking forward to seeing)

Heroes (watch on WeTV VIP | watch on bilibili) Adapted from the novel "Shuo Ying Xiong Shei Shi Ying Xiong" (说英雄谁是英雄) by Wen Rui An (温瑞安) starring Zeng ShunXi, Yang ChaoYue, Liu YuNing, Baron Chen and Meng ZiYi. I would’ve watched this thing for the cast only. Everyone is queer vibes. Not a flashy drama, but will emotionally shred you. The character development is totally worth it. Throughly entertaining, even when it punched you in the gut. 8/10

The Wind Blows From LongXi (watch on iQIYI VIP | watch on Viki) Adapted from novel "The Wind Rises in Longxi" (风起陇西) by Ma Bo Yong (马伯庸) starring Chen Kun and Bai Yu. I’ve been waiting for this drama for two years and it was worth every second of the wait. The cinematography in this thing is bonkers. The use of light and shadows, the muted colors, the indoor shots opening up into well-lit courtyards, the gritty sound mixing, the whole thing just blew my ass away. Chen Kun and Bai Yu are masters of their art. Fckn masterpiece. 11/10

Who Rules The World (watch on WeTV VIP | watch on Netflix) Adapted from the novel "Qie Shi Tian Xia" (且试天下) by Qing Ling Yue (倾泠月) starring Yang Yang, Zhao LuSi, and Xuan Lu. One of the rare romance dramas that really appealed to me. A well-balanced mix of court intrigue and martial world heroics. Unlimited blorbo potential. It’s hard to outshine Yang Yang (who gives major Mei Changsu vibes through like the first third of the drama) but Zhao LuSi and Xuan Lu together? Magnificent. Breathtaking. Brilliant. 8/10

The Legend of Hao Lan (watch on iQIYI VIP | watch on Viki | watch on tubi) starring Wu Jinyan and Nie Yuan. So this was like, The Story of Yanxi Palace cast, remixed. Was it great? Not really. Did I watch every episode? Yeah. I honestly think that Wu Jinyan could just make faces for 50+ sixty minute episodes, and I’d still watch every minute of it. Still, a fascinating take on the Warring States Period, and actually based on a woman who helped her son become the King of Qin, then ultimately the First Emperor of China. I think 99% of the budget went to costumes, and tbh, it was totally worth every penny. 7/10

(yeah, after all this, I rewatched Nirvana In Fire again)

The Silent Criminal (watch on Apple TV | watch on Bilibili | watch on iQIYI VIP | watch on Viki) starring Li Jiaming and Wen Sheng. So incredibly gay. Hilarious, yes, but predominantly gay. Murder, intrigue, suspense, pining; this little drama literally has everything. Did it impact my life and leave a long-lasting impression? Not really. But I was most throughly entertained. 7/10

My Heroic Husband (watch on Amazon Prime | watch on iQIYI VIP | watch on Viki) Adapted from the novel "Zhui Xu" (赘婿) by Fen Nu de Xiang Jiao (愤怒的香蕉). Starring Song Yi and Guo Qilin. Actually, the majority of Joy of Life cast is in this drama, including a cameo by Zhang Ruoyun in the very beginning. Cast aside tho, I fckn love this drama to pieces. Song Yi and Guo Qilin have amazing chemistry, and they’re so goddamn adorable together I can’t even stand it. The plot is far from complex but immensely satisfying. Excellent drama on a mediocre budget, one I plan to regularly rewatch. 8/10

Still waiting on:

Immortality - based on danmei novel The Husky and His White Cat Shizun by 肉包不吃肉 starring Chen Feiyu and Luo Yunxi (you can think I’m a clown but you’d be wrong bc I’m a wholeass circus)

Winner Is King - based on the danmei novel Sha Po Lang by Priest starring Tan Jianci and Chen Zheyuan

Step By Step Lotus - based on historical novel Return to Ming Dynasty as Prince by 月关 starring Zhang Binbin and Luo Yunxi

Eternal Faith - based on danmei novel Heaven Official’s Blessing by Mo Xiang Tong Xiu starring Zhai Xiaowen and Zhang Linghe

Joy Of Life Season 2 - based on wuxia novel of the same name by 猫腻 starring Zhang Ruoyun and Li Qin

A League of Nobleman - based on danmei novel The Society of Four Leaves by Da Feng Gua Guo starring Song Weilong and Jing Boran

Flying Phoenix - based on danmei novel of the same name by 風弄 starring Dai Jingyao and Shu Yaxin

The Story of the Bat - based on danmei novel Bat by Feng Nong starring Mao Zijun and Zhang Yao

The Longest Promise - based on xianxia novel Zhu Yan by 沧月 starring Xiao Zhan, Ren Min, and Zhang Yunlong

Song of The Moon - based on wuxia novel 奔月 by 蜀客 starring Zhang Binbin and Xu Lu

Story of Kunning Palace - based on the the web novel 坤宁 by Shi Jing starring Bai Lu and Zhang Linghe

Under the Microscope - based on the novel 显微镜下的大明 by 马伯庸 starring Zhang Ruoyun and Qi Wei

Till the End of the Moon - based on the web novel 黑月光拿稳BE剧本 by Teng Luo Wei Zhi starring Luo Yunxi and Bai Lu

#cdrama #cdrama recs #long post #m

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lady06reaper · 1 year

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The Feather and Boulder

Snotlout x GN Reader

589 words

TW!: none :), fluff

(Snotlout x OC here)

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

Footsteps thunder through the forest, one feather-like, the other bouldering after. Leaves and twigs snap back and forth as the two vikings run, the reason for running an outsider may not know.

“(Y/n)!” the boulder shouted. “Give me back my helmet!”

The feather turned around and held the desired item up high so the boulder could see. “Why? You compensating for something, Snotlout?” they stuck out their tongue, and delved deeper into the dark timber. Snotlout stopped to catch his breath, bending over at the waist with his hands on his knees.

“Fine! You win! Can I have my helmet back please? (Y/n)?” Snotlout shouted into the dark, not knowing where the feather was lurking. Sneaking up behind Snotlout, (Y/n) raised their hands above their head, the helmet now placed on their crown, and struck their hands on the unsuspecting boulder’s shoulders.

“BOO!”

All that was heard was a shriek that one might think came from a little girl, when in reality it was a grown Snotlout. (Y/n) wasn’t prepared for the shriek, so it was no shock that the feather covered their ears to block the sound that came out of the boulder. Once Snotlout realized what happened, he looked around and cleared his throat.

“*ahem* Uh huh, that-that didn’t scare me one bit,” he crossed his arms to prove that he went unfazed after the scare.

“Oh really now?” (Y/n) questioned. They began to stalk towards Snotlout, making the viking walk back towards the nearest oak. His back hit the ruff bark, their hands cornered his noggin on either side so his only focus was on them, which was their downfall.

“If I didn’t scare you then why can I hear your heartbeat?” The boulder looked the feather up and down, and the boulder cracked.

“Because you look cute with my helmet on,” Snotlout looked (Y/n) dead in the eye, they stepped back shocked at what he said. Immediately the hunk of metal went flying towards Snotlout, it was caught without trouble, they turned their back towards the viking, flustered at what was just revealed. Their hands shot up to cover her mouth, thoughts running just like they did, wondering what just happened.

Snotlout readjusted his helmet, now smirking as the tables have turned in his favor, he crept slowly towards the feather, soon enough his breath warmed the back of (Y/n)’s neck. Widening his arm span, he swung them back inwards towards their body, gripping them in a bear hug.

“And,” he breathed. “You look breathtaking no matter what.” they spun around within his arms, not believing a word Snotlout was saying.

“Snotlout, I-,” before any other words could come out, he picked them up at the waist and threw them over his shoulder, (Y/n)’s view now showed them where they were just standing. “Snotlout! Put me down! I am perfectly capable of walking myself!”

“Not a chance babe, last time I let ya walk freely I lost something very dear to me,” the boulder continued on unbothered at what happened a few moments earlier, as if the viking on his shoulders didn’t weigh a thing, and with his pride intact.

The feather didn’t like the predicament they were in, but they didn’t mind it either, the boulder was very soft with them, despite his exterior. They could always count on him to not ruffle them, even if it was for fun and games. And, he could break open and show them his crystals knowing that they would admire him for him and not his exterior.

#snotlout #snotlout jorgenson #snotlout x reader #httyd #oneshot #fluff

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rebeccalouisaferguson · 8 months

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Special Features

Commentary by director Christopher McQuarrie and editor Eddie Hamilton—McQuarrie and Hamilton take viewers through each compelling scene with in-depth commentary.

Abu Dhabi—Explore the exotic filming locations in the desert and at the international airport and discover how each thrilling sequence was shot.

Rome—Take a behind-the-scenes look at the thrilling car chase through Italy’s historic capital, as Tom Cruise’s driving skills are pushed to the limit while handcuffed to Hayley Atwell!

Venice—See the breathtaking city of Venice as it’s never been shown on film. Plus, witness the cast’s dedication and commitment to their training as they prepare to get “Mission Ready.”

Freefall—An extended behind-the-scenes look at one of the biggest stunts in cinema history. Watch never-before-seen footage of the rigorous training as Tom launches a motorcycle off a cliff.

Speed Flying—Join Tom and the crew as they explain the various training techniques involved in pulling off the dangerous speed flying stunts in the film.

Train—See how the climactic train sequence was captured on film. From building an actual train from scratch to crashing it using practical effects, you don’t want to miss this!

Deleted Shots Montage—Director Christopher McQuarrie and editor Eddie Hamilton share some of the breathtaking, never-before-seen footage that didn’t make the final film.

Editorial Featurette: The Sevastopol—Director Christopher McQuarrie and editor Eddie Hamilton take viewers through the intense opening scene.

#mission impossible #mission impossible dead reckoning part one #mission impossible 7 #film #mi7

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mahougotham · 8 months

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City Lights

The Gotham streets were always constantly busy, from dawn to dusk it was packed with people going to their next location, vendors taking advantage of the foot traffic, and the occasional pickpocket. Because of this, a lot of the fights determining the fate of the city and on a larger scale the world, took place on the roofs of Gotham City’s many structures, and Oswald was sick of it.

Don’t get him wrong, he loved the theatrics of chasing down and fighting people jumping roof to roof on paper. However, in practice, in heels-

“This sucks!”

Currently, he was locked in a sword fight with the Riddler (maybe sword and cane fight but whatever) on the top of the Wayne Enterprise building. How did they end up on top of the tallest building in Gotham City? Oswald could not tell you, the chase was a blur of him running and jumping and occasionally cursing the shoes he was wearing.

“Had enough, Penguin?”

“Yes! Actually! We’re going to fall off this tower at this rate! I’ll be fine but you’d be fucked,” he reverted his weapon back into an umbrella, “Can we at least hash this out through the parking structure?”

Riddler pouted, “I figured the height and limited space would raise the stakes! I mean you must admit this is impre-“

As took a step back, the prince of puzzles lost his balance and only had a second to register that like it or not, he’s falling.

“Ah.”

“RIDDLER!”

Oswald ran off the edge and jumped towards the black and green figure dropping backwards towards the streets far below them. Riddler moved to reach his hands towards his nemesis. He didn’t want to go out. Not like this at least. Pale blue eyes clamped shut waiting for the inevitable crunch and splat.

But it never came.

In its stead, was the sensation of his arms around soft body and the feeling of gliding across the air instead of down. Riddler rather he didn’t open his eyes just yet and opted to just grope around what he was hold to make sure this was all real.

“Ey ey ey! Take me to dinner at least,” the Penguin scolded. This made Riddler stop immediately.

“You saved me.”

“Astute observation, Sherlock.”

“I could kill you.”

“You wouldn’t,” the city’s defender shot at him, “You’re a clever guy. You know that if you kill me you’re fucked.”

Riddler finally opened his eyes to look at the Penguin, umbrella over his head, eyes looking towards the streets seeing the breathtaking view of the Gotham nightlife.

“… It’s beautiful from up here.”

“Of course it is. The view down there is just as good if you let it be,” the driver of this flying umbrella said, “afterall this city is my home. I deserve it.”

“You are aware that it’s a hellhole,” the Riddler grimaced only to be met with a burn passion behind dark blue eyes.

“I know that. Gotham City is the only place I know where you can watch robberies happen back to back while a hungover woman pukes off the side of the road. It’s the city that refuses to sleep because shit can hit the fan at any moment. It’s the city that will hold your head in the water til the bubbles stop,” a heavy breath left his lips, “But I wouldn’t have it any other way. This city is my home. Flaws and all. And it’s mine.”

An arm held Riddler closer to its owner who growled in a way that sent shivers down spine.

“And I’ll be damn if anyone destroys what is rightfully mine.”

The taller man should be intimidated by that threat or at the very least indifferent so he can play it off like he didn’t care. Instead he found himself swooning over his enemy.

#edward nygma #oswald cobblepot #riddlebird #mahou writing

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standbyric · 2 years

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[PART I]

03: Hunga'roaring'

Pairing: Daniel Ricciardo x Female!Driver OC x Pierre Gasly Premise: Formula One, Female Racing Driver Rating: 18+; Mature themes (explicit language, death, trauma innuendos, motorsport accident, mentions of sex) Timeline: Back and forth Warning: ...kinda long because of the race part... maybe skip if you don't wanna read it hahaha. But I'm actually quite satisfied with how I wrote it.... >.< and also, face reveal! Next next chappy will have a bit of manip as well 👉🏻👈🏻 Word Count: 7.7k Sum: All or nothing in Hungary. Dramatic race and a prejudiced trial.

⬅️ Chapter 02 | MASTERLIST | Chapter 04 ➡️

IT was almost 1 PM local time. The Formula One circus had arrived in Budapest, Hungary, for the 11th round of the 2016 World Championship.

But what was supposed to be a highly anticipated Saturday qualifying session had turned into a waiting game as Hungaroring fell victim to wet patches and puddles following the heavy downpour.

Zea stared at the group of clouds as they cast a shadow and showered rain all over the circuit. She clicked her tongue. “Yeah, that’s not gonna stop any time soon.”

“You reckon?” Marq had followed her to stand in the opening of the garage so they could take a better look at the downpour.

“Yeah, I mean, look at that; that shit looks heavy. Maybe give it twenty to thirty minutes?” she cocked her head, pointing at the cloud. “Track still needs an hour or more to dry, though.”

It was something that Zea had unintentionally developed; a keen connection with the rain. Alby said it was almost mystical. She’d drawn the rain, and the rain had drawn her the same. It was last year, during the pre-season testing in Barcelona when it was first out on display.

The fourth and final day of testing in Barcelona had most teams stuck in their garage, stagnant and unproductive. Six red flags were waived, with the McLaren crash constituting the last one.

When everyone thought it couldn’t get any worse, a sudden drizzle came after the lunch break, which soon carried on to a complete rainstorm, drenching the track for the afternoon session.

That was when Alby made what the other Team Principals present deemed an ‘unnecessary’ call. Will Buxton, who was there then, had also taken the liberty to give his two-cent on the decision, saying, “Quite the questionable move from the Audi garage, as they send car number 88 to run on the wet track. We understand that race control had green-flagged the track, but isn’t the more logical and accordingly favourable decision would be to wait for the track to completely dry?”

Alby didn’t say anything. He didn’t react. He had kept his arms crossed, eyes glued to the monitor.

The garage was busy with the launch preparation for car number 88, as Chief Engineer, Frank October, had a final briefing with their newly signed driver before sending her off. And as soon as she got on board, she made a swift thrust along the pit lane, cinematically gliding over the splashes of the wet track.

It had served nonetheless as a majestic sight for both the eyes of spectators and all teams alike. Her execution was flawless and light.

She then proceeded to drive a breathtaking ten laps on the wet. Her race craft only got more refined with each lap, scoring her a provisional fastest lap since her run was incomparable to the dry record. Only after the track had thoroughly dried, she completed one flying lap to beat Grosjean’s record fair and square with a four-tenth gap.

Alby scoffed, knowing Zea had delivered his intention effectively.

It was a long shot, but his call was meant to taunt, like a war cry, signalling that Audi was here, and they weren’t here to play. He meant to taunt the drivers, so they don’t play her down and to taunt the team heads, oh well—to mess their heads a little bit. Let’s say Alby was a bit of a…sucker for drama.

“Race control decides on a twenty-minute delay. Geez, that’s spot on, Z. You’re scaring me.” Marq relayed the message as soon as it was announced over the radio.

Zea broke into the biggest grin. “I’ll get Ace and Brick ready, then,” she said, stretching her arms before running over to join the mechanic team giving their final touches on the cars.

“Improve time, over?”

“Negative. Unless track dries by the end of Q2, I’ll go out again.”

“Copy that. Box then.”

The Q1 session stopped following the third Red Flag after Massa slipped on the wet kerbs and spun into the barriers.

Zea had made the call on sticking to her set of Intermediate when it was still too early for slicks. Thanks to that, she was currently leading the qualifying with a massive 9.8 seconds gap from Ricciardo, who followed at P2 in his full Wets.

“That’s a massive gap. That means much control from Sinaga in that set of Intermediate. We saw five drivers spin on that same Inters during Q1. She might as well sit Q2, oh, which she’s already doing right now; her car is sitting in the garage. The rest is still fighting to avoid the cut, but they still haven’t come close to her time. And that is Grosjean, Kvyat, Perez, Raikkonen, Gutierrez and Nasr, out of Q2.”

True to her prediction, out was the sun just in time for Q3. Track temperatures back up to 40C, DRS was enabled; it was Green Flag for the 3rd session. And as soon as it began, Zea was forced to re-enter the track as Hamilton beat her provisional pole by a tenth of a second, followed by Rosberg and now Ricciardo.

“Oh, hell. Look at them ganging up on giving me a hard time. Let a woman have her pole, damn it,” Zea muttered as she readied herself for a flying lap.

“Ace on board, requesting flying lap, over.”

“Copy that, Ace. You are green to fly.”

“It’s the final chance for any last-lap improvements now, and we finally see Sinaga out with her Audi. She’s currently sitting in P9 now after Button. I must say that’s much confidence, coming out only on the final lap.”

“To be fair, if I had that much control over the Intermediate, I’d probably share her confidence. I don’t know if many people were aware of this, but this is not the first time she’d done that on a set of Inters.”

“Yes. I believe it was Catalunya; pre-season testing, yes? Sensational that was.”

“Indeed it was. And right now, everyone is fighting hard for Pole because it’s essential here since the track is difficult to overtake, especially in Sector 2.”

“Oh, look at that! We took our eyes off a little bit, and Alonso spun! That guarantees a Yellow flag now, doesn’t it?! I wonder how many drivers would be caught by that double Yellow…and Sinaga snatches provisional pole!”

“Replay is here. Sinaga, further back in the order, entered Sector 2 after Yellow flags were withdrawn, meaning she wasn’t slowed. Looks like the Yellows caught Ricciardo, Rosberg, and Hamilton!”

“Hell yeah, my first pole?”

“Almost? I want to congratulate you, but I must inform you the stewards have booked you for possible Yellow Flag infringement. You may or may not lose your pole.” Alby sounded devastated over the radio.

“…Right.” Zea exhaled hard. She had expected that to happen as soon as she passed the duo Mercedes and one Red Bull over that double Yellows.

What she didn’t expect was how quickly the stewards would jump her on that mere issue when she’d reckon there was a more crucial issue on hand.

Like… the prospect of perhaps half the grid being thrown into oblivion, otherwise known as the back of the grid?

Her setting a massive gap in Q1 meant that the whole grid had lapped outside of the excess seven per cent time she’d put, meaning if that rule were to be followed literally—she should be the only car allowed to race tomorrow.

Now wouldn’t that be an exciting show? Imagine that; a solo race with a female pilot on board.

But she’d understand that the stewards had permitted the rest to start the race for Sunday, given the exceptional circumstances, and had allowed the five fastest cars to proceed Q2 as normal.

She had shrugged it off.

But then? There were supposedly more penalties to give for Sunday if they were to apply the rule appropriately… Right?

She expected—read: cursed—the FIA board to have a long and nasty night trying to apply that rule without manifesting the image that a) they weren’t being fair to her, and b) she’d brutally murdered the lap time of the whole grid on Intermediate when the others were too chicken to try.

“So? What’s their plan? Cutting the leader altogether? Put me in the back of the pack? Instead of, you know, maybe handing out a charity on grid penalties for the next race?” Zea scoffed sarcastically, keeping her smile on as best as she could as she made her way to the building for the post-qualifying press conference. Elijah had consistently wiped her seemingly unending sweat while Margareth, her PR Manager, kept smiling bitterly at her continuous sarcasm.

“Is this gonna be that thing, you know, the ‘sacrifice one for the greater good’ thing? Is that it?” Zea chuckled at her statement, realising how absurd that had sounded.

Margareth stepped in front of Zea just before they entered the building. She had felt Zea was sizzling with a much higher sarcasm level than she’d liked. It might’ve been the prior DNFs she’d suffered from the last three races that made this pole more critical for her.

But they couldn’t risk her being irritable in front of the press, not when they’ve only started getting noticed by sponsors.

“Breathe in. Relax. Don’t get too worked up. Okay? Can we do that?” As much as Margareth acknowledged how unfair it was to demand this from her driver, facing reality was part of the job.

“Yes, Madre.” Zea finally responded after a couple of seconds of silence. But she wasn’t looking at Margareth straight in the eye. She was playing with her shoes.

“Zea.”

“Yes. I know. I promise.” Zea quickly gave her PR Manager an assuring smile as she pushed the door open. “Trust me.”

“Zea, what a dramatic qualifying session. How difficult was it out there, and describe your elation when you saw you had taken pole position at the end?”

Of course, they just had to start with a tragically rhetorical question. Which driver wouldn’t be happy after scoring pole position?

Zea caught sight of Margareth pressing her lips. She sighed.

Well, such a shame because, apparently, Zea was more level-headed than she’d thought.

She squeezed a somewhat strained smile out of her system before answering.

“Uhm… Great? Pretty much like Monaco, we all know Pole is critical here because of the nature of the track. But… you know, maybe cut that elation down to 50%, ‘cause I still don’t know which pole I’m gonna start tomorrow. Is it from the front or the back?”

Everyone laughed as Zea gave her signature smile that swallowed her eyes to a twin crescent moon, masking her annoyance at the FIA. Daniel, who’d start P3 for tomorrow's race, chuckled along.

“Very well, thank you, Zea. Coming to Nico. That was an unbelievably exciting qualifying session ahead of the Hungarian Grand Prix. Timing seemed so important: when to be out on the track to ensure you were there when the track was at its driest. Just give us an insight how tricky it was?”

“Yeah, it was a really challenging qualifying: the conditions changing all the time, very exciting out there. I mean, some kerbs still had some patches—going on to the start-finish straight; you had to be really careful opening DRS.”

Nico paused as he glanced at Zea.

“I don’t know how much Zea was up, but I know I got the fastest first sector, so I felt good on the lap. A bit unfortunate with Fernando, but these things happen. It was a tricky session, especially in Q1. I don’t know how she went that fast on Wets—“

“—she was on Inters,” Daniel said.

“You were on Inters in Q1?” Lewis had to interrupt.

Zea was a bit startled at the sudden attention. The room went into complete silence, expecting her answer.

“Uh,” Zea scratched her head, “Massa was also on Inters—I mean, six drivers were on Inters in Q1?”

“They crashed!”

“Exactly!” she exclaimed, before gulping, after realising how that had come out a little too brazen and how uncomfortable the air had become.

Sebastian was the first to scoff, amused when the other drivers sported a defeated look. “You know this little one can be quite spicy on the slippery track!” His comment had successfully toned down the almost hot atmosphere from Zea’s reply.

Zea turned her head a little, just enough to make eye contact with Sebastian, who was sitting behind her, before mouthing a ‘thank you,’ to which the German nodded.

Fortunately, the press picked up quickly after that.

“Lewis, congratulations. I look to Q2 when I look at you. It was very tense moment. You got through into Q3 in P10; your heart must have been in your mouth?”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Lewis chuckled. “But obviously, when I came in and saw how close it was—that wasn’t great. I was up on my previous, but I knew that everyone else would be quicker. Very fortunate to get through, so that’s why even though I’m fourth, I’m just grateful I got through, and this puts me in a position to be at least able to fight for the win tomorrow.”

“Well Daniel, Lewis wants to fight for the win tomorrow. Seeing that you will share the second starting grid tomorrow, do you think you can fight for the win?”

“That’s the plan.”

Zea had unknowingly twisted her head in Daniel’s direction, finding herself focusing on his answer. Why she did that, she wasn’t sure. But maybe that Monaco dinner impromptu did something to her.

“We’ve more or less fought for it the last two years, and I think we’re even closer this year than we have been in the past in terms of pure pace. Tomorrow should be interesting.

“As always, the Mercs have had a good long-run pace; we’ve seen that in free practice, but we’ll be there, and obviously, we start close enough to the front to make a fight for it, and so hopefully, it’s an exciting race.”

No mention of how quick Audi had gotten?

“My question is for Zea.” That immediately pushed Zea to sit up, returning her attention to the press.

“Yep?”

“Looking at your qualifying today, rainy conditions, do you prefer rain conditions tomorrow or a dry race? That’s question number one, and question two: How afraid are you from losing the pole, perhaps after the investigation?”

Here we go.

Zea only had a fraction of a second to think; either give in to her temper and throw shit at the FIA or choose humour.

She chose humour.

Curse her fucking sound mind.

“Well… You know they say I like it wet….”

Once again, she brought laughter to the room with-what her little smirk as she wiggled her eyebrows up and down. And the fact that Daniel had laughed out loud sounded so worth listening to that reasonable side of her head.

“Why are you guys laughing? I’m just answering the question,” fake humour still laced her words.

“Anyway, of course, winning is still number one to me. I literally DNFed in the last three races. Scoring maximum points here is our objective, so I’d prolly say wet—hell, I’d summon the rain if I could. But,” she took a deep breath before continuing, “all the other drivers’ safety is still number zero to me. So, yeah, you do the math.”

We don’t want a repeat of all the spins in Q1 tomorrow, do we?

“Aww, that’s sweet. Didn’t know you could be sweet. I thought you only knew spicy.” The teasing tone in Daniel’s voice was enough to put a smile back on her face.

“Aww, I’m sorry, P3; have I not been sweet to you?” Zea said, exaggerating her gesture, talking as if Daniel was a little kid throwing a tantrum.

And the Aussie broke into laughter again, making unnecessary adjustments on his hat from trying to swallow the little jab Zea had made on his P3. While Zea had begun wondering just what exactly this man would not smile and laugh at.

“I’m gonna get you back, woman,” Daniel jabbed.

“Oh, psshh, go ahead, darling; but you have Nico in front of you. Should I ask him to give you some leeway?”

Nico scoffed, knowing the intense fight shared by the two people next to him for the third seat at the Drivers’ Standing, followed by Sebastian cackling at the Aussie. That was quite the random banter for the press, but no denying it had showered relief to the room.

“Second part of the question, Zea?”

“Right. Yeah,” what a way to surly her mood, Zea thought.

“I think it’s not about me being afraid or not; it’s just, uhm, I didn’t know it even needed processing at all. I mean, rewind the footage. I slowed down enough; saw the double Yellows down; Alonso had cleared the track, so I ran; crossed the chequered flag; the end. Yay, pole! But then they say, nah, we might… be seeing different things. So, yeah, maybe I’m blind?”

“So you’re confident on keeping your pole?”

“I…” Zea had to pause to chuckle. What was his name? This reporter? Ralf? This man seemed to have taken a liking to push the limits of her rationality.

“Look, it’s not—it’s not about that,” she sighed in disbelief. Surely this wasn’t a topic too hard to grasp. “It’s just that I’m pretty sure there’s a more prominent issue the board is supposed to assess, so my yellow situation should get passed on quickly to get to that issue.”

“Right. We’d actually like to get on that.”

Yeah, that little smirk up the corner of his mouth; Zea didn’t like that at all. This Ralf guy? She’d be sure to put him on her red press list.

“Question to all drivers: there was a major 107% time margin lockup in Q1. We understand that for the sake of Q2, decisions are postponed until after qualifying and are still in progress. What do you have to say to that?”

Zea brought her head down to hide her smirk. Ballsy. Now we’re getting somewhere.

“Nico?”

“Uhm, I’m not quite sure how to comment, but of course, exceptional circumstances applied; isn’t that how we could progress to Q2? But yeah, I’m not going to comment too much.”

“Sebastian? Anything to add?”

“I’m… looking forward to the decision, obviously, to see how this particular rule will be interpreted. Quite possibly, we might get penalties for the next race? I’ve said it before the sport has become congested with rules, but this one is a good rule to ensure competitiveness and safety on race day. Problem maybe this little one went too spicy on Q1.”

Lewis giggled at Sebastian’s response. “Yeah, man, I have to agree.”

“Daniel?”

“Yeah, I agree with Seb.” He shifted in his seat. “If I were to add maybe just, depending on interpretation, we might or might not get any race tomorrow? I was obviously among the ones who didn’t lap the 107th time-margin. But yeah, she sat Q2 off. That was kinda a shot to the heart, I would say.”

“Zea? Anything to add?”

Really?

“I… don’t know; I mean, I didn’t go to Law School or Business School; I graduated from an Engineering School,” she was aware that she’d startled everyone with that sudden disclosure, with the press immediately jumping on their keyboards once her sentence registered, and her colleagues’ blatant scepticism in their collective stares. Still, Zea thought this was the perfect opportunity to establish her standpoint within the media and the sports community.

“So interpreting and applying rules—that I would suck, no doubt, so I’m not gonna comment on that. But I’m sure as hell I know how to calculate—and Margareth, my beloved PR manager, is looking at me! Alrighty!” Zea clapped her hands while plastering an exaggerated smile on her face. “I’m sure the board will figure something out to ensure an exciting race tomorrow. They always do. Trust them.” Wow. One point for bullshit, and that is two to zero for the sane part of her head.

The last thing she remembered was Daniel whispering, ‘You went to an Engineering School?!’ before the press ended in a lot of confusion and unanswered questions for her, and she had to face her fate with the stewards.

“Put a smile on your face or something, Sis! You get to keep your pole!”

“Three hours,” Zea slammed the innocent water bottle on the table. “Took them that long to make the most worthless and inconsequential decision ever. Literally. Whatever. I’m still bugged they overrule any potential penalties.”

“It was raining. Prone to accidents. Give them a break.”

“It had stopped raining; the track was drying. So they should rain everyone with grid penalties instead!

“Look, it wasn’t even my fault that I wasn’t chicken enough to try Inters. How could they talk as if my Intermediate choice was ‘deliberate intent for unsafe driving on a wet track?’ Wh—For what? For me to show off?” That was when Elijah decided to shut the conference room door close, fearing the risk of someone else listening.

“Hey, I’m here to race. I’m here to maximise my points. And what about the other five who were also on Inters in Q1? They didn’t say anything about them. And how could they bring up Jules and accuse me of not respecting the double yellows after what had happened to him?

“Besides, it’s not my fault that their rules on double-waved yellows and the 107% are ambiguous. I’ve exercised enough caution! And my telemetry showed!

“I knew it wasn’t the issue there; they just had to make up something to call me in. I knew it! They were still mad I kicked their shin on cockpit safety back in 2014!” Zea huffed, banging herself to the back of the seat, visibly frustrated.

“Wow, how mature. Holding a grudge for two fuckin’ years because they can’t handle me shoving facts up their arses. Accurate display of maturity, there,” she tried to sound more gentle after realising how much she was being overtaken by her temper.

Irza stood up, snickering as he did so. His little sister was in that mood: the cranky one after being subjected to a prejudiced trial. Not her worse, but nonetheless, the hardest for her to mask. Yes, she could’ve laughed every other insult off, but being a victim of biased thinking? Hell, no. He knew how much she’d wanted to do well this season.

Hungary was supposed to be the turning point.

After all that hard-fought additional cash, Audi had finally managed to make the necessary upgrade, and this weekend was supposed to be their first step to regain their lead on the Bulls.

“Look at the bright side; you’re going viral—like real viral. Good sponsorship exposure. Let’s focus on that instead.”

“But it’s the bad viral, isn’t it?” Zea shuddered. “What—have they started saying I’ve faked my academic credentials now?”

“Oh, amorzinho, stop being so negative,” Irza threw his hands. “You literally have your face plastered on the university website and your dissertation published. Digital tracks are real. And besides, your colleagues have spoken up for you on social media, and I literally have your graduation photo on my Instagram.”

Zea fell into silence. Good thing she didn’t buy her way into her degree but worked her arse off instead.

God help her, for she’d been a geek her entire life. Her best friends were books and pens, sometimes numbers and data. Her hangout place of choice was the lab, and her means of salvation was high grades. And her dad being the front-runner of the ‘education is number one’ mentality, and her mom just nodding on the side, mouthing ‘just listen to your dad for now’ didn’t help either.

No, they weren’t exactly your tiger parents, and newsflash—her familial relationship was quite fine—or was now fine might be more appropriate. But yeah, that’s another story.

“Get some rest.”

“Don’t go big-brother on me. You’re only 3 hours older.”

“Excuse me, Miss?” Irza turned his head with much sass, “I’m saying this as your agent, not your big brother. You’re my investment, so I need you to perform well tomorrow. Duh.”

Zea clicked her tongue at her twin’s sassiness. “Where are you going?” she pushed herself from the back of the chair when she saw Irza about to take off with his jacket.

“Well, now that you’re done with your work on track, I have to work off track. Get some rest.”

Zea scrunched up her face. “Work hard. Stay safe.”

And Alby chuckled, which compelled Zea to turn her head in his direction. He gave her a small smile, but it was enough to straighten back the folds between the eyebrows of his star driver. She softened her demeanour. “I have a legitimate reason to be upset, Alby. You know that,” she muttered softly.

Alby kept his smile, assuring she did nothing wrong, as he leaned back on his chair.

After all, faulting her was one thing he would never do. Grateful was an understatement of what he’d felt towards the twins. Indebted was perhaps closer, with a splash of pride that they’d pledged their loyalty to Audi.

He still remembered it as clear as day. The night Irza came to him, boring his name naked. He was sent speechless.

“Okay. You are a very straightforward young man. How did you know we were planning on entering next season?”

“News spread fast in this industry, Mr Krüger; I’m sure you’d know better. Besides, you’re not entirely being secretive with the preparation: prototype, job posted and everything,” Irza had said as he slid his name card on the table, which immediately stunned Alby.

He had to check twice to ensure he didn’t read wrong. “…I didn’t know he had a son?”

Irza chuckled at the false impression. “Nephew. And my sister, his niece.”

At first, Alby didn’t budge. He was aware that this ‘Zeahire’ was the 2013 GP2 Champion. But other than her being a female, quite a decent driver, not much was known about her—hell, not even her face.

Being his niece should not directly translate to her ability, and besides, her being a woman did not exactly hold a high sponsorship prospect.

“How are you confident we haven’t signed anyone?”

“You wouldn’t have met me otherwise, Mr Krüger,” Irza was calm and confident. “Although half of it might be to have me stop bothering you daily with emails.” That got Alby chuckling.

“Let her drive for Audi. Give her car; she’ll give you result.”

Alby had cut the cards to honour the name and decided to summon her to the Neuburg site, the heart of Audi motorsport, for some testing, albeit hesitant.

By the time she got there, it had just finished raining. Petrichor was still fresh in the air, and drops of water still lingered on the tarmac.

Both Alby and Frank had hesitated to run her for the sake of safety. But Zea had other thoughts.

“Let me run. You summoned me here to gauge my ability, didn’t you? All the more reason,” she’d sounded so sure that Alby found himself nodding his head.

And then, the rest was history.

Alby blinked his eyes at the fond memory. Two years of partnership now had made him quite fond of the twins. Blame his age, though.

“I’m sorry, Alby. I know I’ve put you in a tough position with the FIA because—“

“—No, no. Forget about it.” Alby gave her a reassuring smile. “Your brother is right. You need enough rest for tomorrow. So get some rest.”

Let’s say this was part of her routine; watching the GP2 race that preceded the Formula One Grand Prix, just as a way to get herself into the zone for the race. Zea argued that there were always things she could learn from them.

And ‘them’ for her this year was Pierre Gasly and Antonio Giovinazzi. They’d both been the favourite contender for the 2016 GP2 Champion title, but Zea was leaning more towards Gasly, who had just secured his win in Hungary. Problem was; the Frenchman belonged to the Bulls. Yikes.

“That’s not fair, you know,” Zea nudged Elijah’s shoulder. “He’s hot. Like, hot.”

The two watched from the pit lane as the Frenchman indulged himself in victory. Half of his body soaked in fresh champagne just honestly added to his hotness it was almost indecent.

“Which one is he again? Left? Right?”

“Left,” Zea quickly nodded, not leaving her eyes off the winner.

“Good. You can have the Ratatouille. Leave the Pasta for me.”

The laugh that came out from Zea was crispy and delightful. She was even clapping like a seal.

Thank goodness for Elijah and his foul mouth. She could always talk about these things openly with him to ease her nerves. Irza and her two older brothers would only end up teasing her, and her little sister was—she deemed—too young to understand, despite their only four years of age gap.

“Look, your Ratatouille is heading this way.”

“Yeah, I know—SHIT! WHAT?! He’s heading this way. Why is he heading this way?! Oh my God, he must’ve caught me looking at him! Eli, quick! Hide me!”

But it was too late. Pierre Gasly was already towering in front of her, watching her frantically flailing her arms in the air as she attempted to hide half of herself behind Elijah.

And Elijah decided it was time to be an arse.

In one quick move, he shifted his feet and shoved Zea out front before giving her a wink and running his way to the Audi garage.

That damn bastard.

“Hey, hot stuff,” Zea waved her hand, “You are Pierre Gasly. I am Zea.” Anyone would like to hand her the award for Best at Embarrassing Herself?

Pierre tried to stifle his chuckle as he watched her shut her eyes, visibly regretting what she had just said before the colour on her face changed to light pink.

“Hello, ‘I am Zea’. I am Pierre, the hot stuff.”

The two looked at each other before finally laughing at their dumb exchange. Well, that was one way to shut off all the budding awkwardness.

“I actually want to congratulate you for the pole position. I watched the Quali yesterday. I don’t know how you did that.” Pierre looked impressed. One thing that would never fail to bring Zea’s spirit back up was receiving genuine acknowledgment of her race craft from fellow drivers. Especially from someone as hot as Pierre Gasly.

“Oh? Geez, thanks! So you came here because you wanted to say that, not because you caught me staring at you…”

“So you were looking at me? I had my doubts, but—“

“—I was looking at the winner of the race. It just happens to be you.”

Pierre gave her that look—the ‘rea~lly?’ look, with his eyebrows up and a little smirk riding the corner of his mouth. Zea frowned, trying to hide her embarrassment.

“Please pretend I didn’t say that,” Zea made a dismissive wave with her hand, “and congratulations on winning. Do you want a fist bump?” she quickly said as she watched Pierre fixing his hair—still wet from the champagne—over his Red Bull cap. “I’d rather have kisses on the cheek, but a fist bump works, too,” he said as he offered up his fist with a cheeky smile.

“Holy God, you are a major flirt.” That came out almost automatically from Zea. “Thank goodness you have that handsome face of yours,” she continued, bumping her fist with Pierre.

Pierre sported another smile. A really hot one, might she add.

“Good. So you do think I’m handsome.”

That got Zea’s mouth open in shock. She was about to accuse him of being cocky before she captured tinges of a blush forming upon his pale cheeks. She chuckled, returning to her composed self. Two can play this game.

“Well, ‘handsome Pierre’, I better go to my garage and get myself race-ready. See you around.”

“Good luck!” he almost had to yell that out since Zea just ran away after saying that.

Zea turned her head, smiling her thanks at him before sprinting to the Audi garage. She didn’t even realise she’d run past Daniel, who’d raised his arm to greet her. He’d been wanting to call out to her but didn’t out of respect for the Frenchman.

“Didn’t know she knew Gasly,” Daniel muttered as he strode his way to Pierre. “You two know each other?”

��Now we do.” Pierre returned Daniel’s fist bump.

“Oh.” Daniel could’ve sworn he saw the flush in Pierre’s cheeks as he smiled, looking in Zea’s direction. Must’ve been the fatigue from the race, right?

Daniel shook his head. “Congratulations on your win, mate! Great race!”

“Already there, Sinaga lining up in pole position, and she is gonna have to wait a very long time for the rest to catch up. So those breaks, those tyres, you were talking about, Martin, getting ever colder by the second!”

“Ace to Cap, T-Square cover.” Zea was indeed concerned about her tyres’ temperature. She went too quickly for the formation lap, which might impede her from having a good start if her tyres’ temperature dropped unnecessarily from waiting for the others.

“Ah, radio! Sinaga is going all cryptic again! Wonder what T-Square meant there. Although Audi can’t respond to her before the race begins, that’s the rule.”

“Audi has been very subtle with their radio exchange this season, yes. Could it be their way to eliminate possible threats from overhearing? I heard Zea is very much involved in their strategy building.”

“But haven’t they gone up in the Constructors’ Standing? They shouldn’t be too incriminated with quid now.”

“Indeed, they have this season, but I reckon they still have a long way up to catch up with the Bulls, Mercs and Ferrari for capital assets. You know the competition is high for that position.”

“I suppose you are right. And now we have Ricciardo, winner from 4th of the grid back in 2014; followed by Lewis Hamilton; he’s won 4 times here, and just ahead of him, Rosberg on the first line had never won the Prix here. Zea Sinaga on Pole had never been on Podium in Hungary, and this also makes it her first pole start in Formula One this afternoon.”

Zea cracked her fingers to loosen them up before placing her hand back on the steering wheel.

“Okay, buddy. It’s just you and me now. Let’s put ‘em all to sleep,” she whispered softly to the car. It was part of her ritual just seconds before the lights were out.

“And we’re all set to go here in Hungaroring. AND IT’S LIGHTS OUT, AND AWAY WE GO!”

“Sinaga gets away really well, and she and Rosberg making the run now down towards turn 1. Right behind them, Vettel’s waiting, Ricciardo’s waiting, Verstappen on the inside, and around the outside goes Daniel Ricciardo!”

“Sinaga takes the lead ahead of Ricciardo, Rosberg down to third, he’s been pressurised now by Max Verstappen and Lewis Hamilton, with Sebastian Vettel ahead of Alonso!”

“Sinaga into turn 3, Hamilton claims second place, passing his teammate and the Red Bull, but the Red Bull is not giving up!”

“Cap to Ace. Order Ham, Ric, Ros, Ver, Vet. Catching up at one-tenth.”

“Copy that, Cap.”

“Whoa! Wonderful skills were displayed in Sector 1 alone; the top six were fighting it out there. I really thought the Mercedes boys were gonna be leading this by now, but the Audi girl has placed her car beautifully there!”

Astounding opening for the Hungarian Grand Prix. Not the Bulls, the Mercs, the red devils of Ferrari, nor the dark horse Audi; none were willing to give up the number one spot.

It was down to lap fourteen when Sebastian was the first of the front runners to pit, and then the Red Bulls and the Mercedes boys followed the lap after.

“Sinaga is the only one with used Super-soft now! Is she doing early tyre management to keep her position?”

“I wouldn’t say that. She’s a tad too focused on managing her gap; I’m actually scared for her pace. She’s only leading by one second ahead of Lewis.”

“Lewis, Sinaga reports on increasing gap after turn 11. And box after that lap,” Peter ‘Bono’ Bonnington, Lewis’ race engineer, said over the radio.

“You guys manage to crack her code?”

“She said it in full sentences. In English.”

“Yeah, I don’t believe her,” Daniel responded over the radio after Simon relayed the same message Bono did.

“We can’t risk it, Dan.”

“Well can she do that? Gap increase?” Daniel turned his steering wheel to defend himself as he saw Rosberg peeking in his side mirror.

“We think she wants to exhaust her tyres and then pit.”

“I’ll try catching up.”

Red Bull number three rushed to close the gap with the Mercedes in front of him to capitalise on DRS.

“Ok, Daniel. Doing a good job, mate. You are two seconds quicker than Rosberg at the moment, and you are six seconds behind Lewis.”

“So Lewis, just need to pick up pace a little bit. Sinaga is really pitting.”

“I’m working on it.”

“Sinaga finally pitted for her second stint. Will Lewis finally take over the lead?”

“…NO! Lewis looks to be struggling with pace, with Ricciardo closing in and Sinaga regaining her lead! Just with less than a 1-second gap between Sinaga and Lewis! Sinaga is really putting her fresh Soft at work!”

“I’m struggling for pace.” Lewis exhaled hard as he felt his car lose its front grip.

“Okay, Lewis. So Ricciardo’s about to get onto the back of the train, so we really need to open this gap up.”

Lewis groaned. “Well, I’m driving to the best of my ability on these tyres.”

“Okay, copy that, Lewis. If these cars bunch up, then we’ll be bringing Nico in first.”

“Well, why would they do that? It’s not like I’m driving slow; I’m trying.”

“Yeah, Lewis. Just the risk we’re putting the win in jeopardy. We need to catch up with Sinaga.”

And then it was lap forty.

Almost too collectedly, Zea turned her car to enter the pit lane after building a decent gap against Lewis.

“Lewis, Sinaga turns into the pit lane.”

“What?! Why didn’t you tell me?”

“No, there wasn’t any radio. You need to pick up pace.”

“Sinaga into the pit lane! What is this? There was no communication! Oh no! Was it a mistake? Is this gonna be a repeat akin to Ricciardo’s nightmare in Monaco?! Would her team even be ready?! THEY ARE READY! What a turn of situation!”

“Lewis is currently in the lead, but I’m afraid with his used Softs, it’s only a matter of time before Sinaga comes back… AND SHE REGAINS THE LEAD!”

“Someone wants to tell me what the hell was that?” Daniel cried over the radio.

“Sorry, Daniel, we monitored her radio, but there was no communication. Keep calm. You’re only four seconds behind Lewis; you’re doing a good job keeping Rosberg out of your DRS zone.”

“Fuck.” Daniel knew he could be up to P2 with Lewis in P1 if only they knew Zea would pit there.

“Cap to Ace. Gap 2.0. Order Ham, Ric, Ros, Vet, Ver, Kimi.”

“Copy that. Keep gap posted.”

“Roger that, Ace.”

With only twenty laps left, it was down to tyre management.

Zea took a heavy breath as Esteban Gutierrez, for whatever reason—perhaps he couldn’t see her—positioned his car in front of her, playing defensively.

“Sinaga has been held up by Gutierrez, and Hamilton looks to pounce and cuts the deficit to 0.6 seconds! And we have radio from Sinaga.”

“Gap to Ham down to sixth-tenth. Gutierrez should be booked.”

“Copy that.”

“Well, doesn’t she sound unaffected?”

“Ah, she never sounded affected over her radios, I reckon, always calm; plus point for her engineers, might I add. And message from Race Control; Gutierrez is being investigated for ignoring blue flags on that Sinaga incident.”

“And we have here Raikkonen pushing well on his new Super-softs, is now on the rear of Verstappen in the battle for sixth place.”

“Raikkonen gained a whole second on Verstappen on the last lap and is sizing the teenager up!”

“Message from Race Control; Gutierrez has been given a five-second penalty for ignoring blue flags! And we have radio from Raikkonen.”

“He moved right and then back to left when I was going there! I took my f****** front wing off!”the Finn roared his outrage.

“Copy, copy. Keep pushing on the way in.”

“Looks like Verstappen moved twice to block Raikkonen at turn two!”

“Will he be booked for possible penalty?”

“We’ll have to see that.”

“Up ahead, the cat-and-mouse game continues between Audi, Mercedes and Red Bull, with the gap falling by four-tenths between Sinaga and Hamilton. Now at 2.3 seconds.”

“Ace, Ham is 2 seconds behind.”

“Copy that. Request T-Deg, over.”

“Lewis, Sinaga is being cryptic,” it was Bono who had acted first.

“What did she say?”

“She said ’Deg’; we suspect it may be degradation.”

“So she’s saving tyres, right? What do I do?”

“We must keep pushing, but try to manage tyres as much as possible.”

“I’m trying. Can you check her degradation?”

“Not directly, but her pace hasn’t dropped much. We suspect she might not be saving tyres at all. But she will soon have to, and that’s when we cut.”

“I’ll do my best,” Daniel responded as Simon briefed him on Zea’s radio.

“Okay, just keep calm. Maintain pace.”

“I will. But I’m starting to lose grip; front is acting out,” he groaned soon.

“Copy, Daniel. Maintain pace.”

“We have ten laps to go; current order on top ten—Sinaga, Hamilton, Ricciardo, Rosberg, Vettel, Verstappen, Raikkonen, Alonso, Stevens, and Sainz.”

“Right now, the battles are happening all across the top seven. Hamilton is close to Sinaga after she made a mistake in the final sector. Looks like she’s starting to lose grip there. Rosberg is closing in on Ricciardo for third, and Raikkonen and Verstappen continue to hassle Vettel for fifth!”

Tense was the atmosphere in the Audi garage. Irza, who just came in, immediately sat next to Marq, propping the radio over his ears. “Did she pit at 40?”

Marq nodded, concern visible in his eyes.

“How much is she losing grip?”

“Degradation up to 47% now.” Marq was on the edge of his seat.

It wasn’t just Marq, but everyone was mirroring his tension. Jack couldn’t let his eyes off the monitor. Vishal Robert, Zea’s main mechanic, tapped his feet repeatedly, and Alby’s breathing was heavy.

“Well,” Irza clapped his hand together. “Let’s brace ourselves, then.”

“Into the closing stage now of a cagey but intriguing race in Hungary! We have three laps remaining! Will Sinaga keep her lead and come out victorious?!”

“Sinaga is slowing down! Is it engine problem?! Her three previous DNFs were due to engine problems! Will her race ends in another DNF?!”

“I can see Zea. Has she slowed down?” Daniel implored over the radio.

“Is she losing power? Bono, is she losing power?” Lewis followed.

“What is happening?! I can see slight smoke coming from the back of Sinaga’s car! Do we have no radio from Sinaga?!”

“Push Lewis! Push!”

“We don’t know what’s happening; just push Daniel!”

Zea glanced at her wing mirrors after downshifting as she continued her throttle-break interval, biasing her breaks to the rear to forcefully spin her tyres. She chuckled, knowing what she was about to do would undoubtedly piss her colleagues off—if she made it, that is.

But this was her grand finale in today’s act of strategy masterclass. It was a gamble, nonetheless, because she was dangerously losing grip after pitting too early in lap forty, and this was the only way she could cross the chequered flag before the other two catch her up with DRS.

“Sinaga is losing her pace? Is she losing her pace? We have absolutely no confirmation from Audi! And both Ricciardo and Hamilton are charging straight ahead!”

“Oh my goodness! This has turned into a close battle for the top three between Sinaga, Hamilton, and Ricciardo! Listen to that cheer as the final battle between Audi, Mercedes and Red Bull is on!”

“It is now down to who could make use of the DRS first to catch—WHAT IS SINAGA DOING?!”

A deep breath from Zea, eyes on her rear mirrors, mentally calculating her move.

And as soon as Lewis and Daniel were just half-tenth before DRS would be available for them against herself, she put her left hand up as her right foot butchered down on the throttle.

Adios, motherfuckers.

“…S-s-she waved to both Hamilton and Ricciardo! Before quite literally launching over to cross the chequered flag! AND SINAGA WINS THE HUNGARIAN GRAND PRIX! It’s Audi who snatch the win!”

“She wasn’t losing power! She was not losing power! She was warming—or should I say heating?!— up her rear tyres to gain enough momentum!”

“My oh my, I have no doubt that would certainly piss both the Red Bull and Mercedes! Although I believe that was a gamble! One thing for sure here is Sinaga really was losing grip there, so she had to pull off that move!”

“What a move, though! What a move! That was brave! She could’ve lost her tyres there!”

“But she didn’t! I have to say she really has mastered her car, hasn’t she?!”

“Man, she’s so annoying. She is so annoying.” Crestfallen was beyond what Lewis felt when he passed the chequered flag in less than one-tenth of a second after the Audi lady.

“Damn her! Seriously.” Daniel was also not less happy as he felt like he’d just been played, especially with that last wave of her hand.

In the Audi garage, however, was a silent celebration. It was quite literally just everyone finally letting out a long, relieved breath after unconsciously holding it as they watched Zea pull that last crazy gamble of a stunt.

“Z, congratulations.” Marq chimed, sounding exhausted.

On the other line of the radio, Zea chuckled softly. “Thank you, Marq. What a ride, huh?”

“Yeah, you psycho,”the reply came fast and gritty.“What if something went wrong?”

“It was a calculated move, and nothing bad happened. Rest easy, Marq… and thank you for trusting me. Really.”

⬅️ Chapter 02 | MASTERLIST | Chapter 04 ➡️

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That was loooong. I'm kinda happy with how the race bit turned out so I hope it's nice! And also, I’m kinda bothered by how I wrote the flashbacks, it’s like should I put them in italics or not but I decided on not. But do let me know if it gets confusing 👉🏻👈🏻

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@scotlynaurora @squidwardsluverxx

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sirendeepity · 2 years

Text

[ Nessian Week, day 7: Free Day ]

A/N: Did this one-shot sit half done in my drafts for, like, months? Yes. Did I also wait another month specifically for this day to come before publishing it? Also yes. Is there also a second version where everything takes a Feyre-like dramatic twist, but this time the C-section happens because Gwyn and Emerie don't take no shit from anybody? Who knows 👀

Some domestic fluff and a bit of random angst thrown in there, because where would be the fun otherwise? Hope you enjoy <3

@nessianweekk

W/C: 2.9k

T/W: --

Nesta had made a lot of plans throughout her life.

When she was little, she had planned—well, her mother had done all the planning, but that’s just a tiny detail—to marry a wealthy man and elevate her family’s social position, confident that that would, finally, make her mother proud. Little did Nesta know that just a few years later she would find herself without both money and mother. That led to her second plan: Tomas Mandray. The bastard. She was fully aware of what was going on inside his household—what was probably going to happen to her, too—but if marrying the boy meant one mouth less for her sister to feed, then so be it. Trading one misery for another wouldn’t have changed much for Nesta, anyway.

Her third and biggest plan almost worked—and thank the Mother it actually didn’t. Still, Nesta wouldn’t change anything about it. The war against Hybern forced her to open her eyes and come to terms with her feeling for a certain cocky male. Nesta couldn’t ignore them anymore, not when the risk of losing him at any moment had dug its claws so deep into her heart she was afraid she’ll never be free from the bone-shattering grip. Decades had passed since then, yet Nesta still woke up in the middle of the night, cold sweat drenching her nightclothes and the cruel hands of terror pinning her body to the mattress. Her eyes were open but the memory hadn’t stopped—the voices overlapping in her head. One was made of warmth and comfort, hot breath against her neck and a heavy arm pulling her closer and closer; the other was pain and sputtered blood, pleading her to go, run, save herself. She couldn’t, so she stayed. It had offered her a promise, one that Nesta found herself almost relieved to hear, knowing it would be fulfilled soon. She closed her eyes, now as she did back then, waiting for the fatal blow. It never came.

To her mate’s more than probable disappointment, being stuck in Illyria was not one of those plans. Not by a long shot. She’d grown to enjoy the place—the mountains and its inhabitants—but the breathtaking landscape was not the reason why she’d come here in the first place. She just needed to have a nice chat with a group of elderly Illyrian females and then they could fly back to Velaris. That was until Cassian vanished somewhere with Balthazar, never to be seen again.

“It won’t take much, he said,” mimicked Nesta, throwing yet another pillow on the sofa. “Just wait for me at the house if you finish first, he said. Forty godsdamned minutes ago.”

She punched and squished her tiny nestle of pillows and blankets until she felt comfortable enough against it, then reached for the book she left on the coffee table. A book that had vanished just like her mate, apparently.

Because you did leave it there, right? She questioned herself, digging through her memory and finding nothing of use. She wasn’t surprised, her brain has stopped working properly 7 months ago, give or take. Nesta leaned forward as much as she could without tripping over to see if it may have fallen on the floor, then swept her eyes around the room, hoping for a little yellow square to catch her eyes. And it did catch her eyes, on the kitchen table. Nesta cursed inwardly, rolling her eyes as she readjusted herself and looked down at her own sprawled body. The next time someone told her what a wonderful, beautiful thing being pregnant was, she’d choose violence.

“There goes my comfy spot,” Nesta muttered under her breath as she gripped any available surface to push herself and her 41 weeks rounder-than-ever belly up the sofa, trying her very best not to pull any muscles in the process.

She was halfway back to the living room when the front door opened, showing a 6’4 feet tall male standing in her doorway, wet as a puppy, drip-dropping on the floor.

“Hi, Nes,” he said, and she felt the sudden urge to punch him. Or kiss him. Or maybe both. “It’s storming outside, so we’ll have to wait until it’s over before I can fly us back to Velaris,” Cassian went on, kicking his muddy boots aside and taking off as many clothes as he could before stepping into the house itself. He let his gaze run over her, from the hand pinned on her back to give her belly additional support, to the black, oversized shirt she had on—clearly not one of hers because Gods forbid she could find at least one that fit her new demanding body—, to the yellow tome tucked under an arm. He even had the audacity to smirk at her I’ll cut your balls off and use them as earrings look—one of the newest addition to her collection—before saying, “Nice outfit.”

Nesta only inclined her head, contemplating how much time it would take her to wabble her way to him. Too much, she realized. It would be faster if she threw the book from where she was standing. Cassian sighed, clearing the space between them with a few strides. “How is the love of my life?”

“Yet to be decided,” Nesta replied, tilting her head up so she wouldn’t answer his chest.

“I was talking to the baby.”

Cassian sank to his knees in front of her, flashing her a lazy grin as he gently stroked her thighs before raising the hem of the shirt. Her pale skin, still a little shiny from the lavender oil she applied earlier, courtesy of Emerie’s exceptional taste, was a stark contrast to the deeply tanned pair of huge hands now covering the curve of her belly almost entirely. This time Nesta did smack him on the head with the book, earning herself a rumbled laugh and a pinched ass.

“You don’t really hate me right now, do you?” He asked between a kiss and the next, his damp hair leaving a wet trail on her stretched skin.

She didn’t answer, her heart too weak to form a coherent sentence, and when he stopped his greetings to the baby and looked up at her, she looked away a beat too late, feeling his lips curve into a smile.

“Come on, Nes. I’m sorry I haven’t predicted the rain. I told you summer storms in Illyria come when you’re least expecting them.”

He had told her that, many times, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t be pissed about it anyway. The baby was a week late and they took a great risk by flying all the way there to meet the elders, and the last thing she wanted was to give birth in these conditions, without her family to hold her together while she regretted all her life choices. Nesta pushed the book against Cassian’s forehead, putting some space between her belly and his face, and spun on her heels, heading for the stairs.

“Where are you going?” Cassian called after her.

“To draw you a bath before you catch a cold.”

“I’ll catch it anyway if I have to wait for you to climb up the stairs,” he said, moving behind her.

Nesta turned with her finger already pointed toward its target when Cassian lifted her up.

“Gods, you stink.”

“You’re welcome.”

Fifteen minutes later, Nesta was leaning against the bathroom doorframe, admiring her oh-so-gorgeous mate stripping naked in front of her. She was so glad at least one of them got to keep the muscles, and that the one was him. She dipped her eyes as soon as Cassian turned his back to her. How long would it take her to get back up if she knelt and took a bite of that incredible ass—

“Do you plan on taking that shirt off or do I have to do it for you?”

“If I get into that bath none of us will get out anytime soon,” Nesta replied, not meeting his eyes once even as he faced her again. Did she make a mistake or were there two more muscles on his torso?

He took a few steps in her direction, forcing her to raise her gaze. “Good,” he said, pressing his lips against the pointy shell of her ear, “because we have a lot of time on our hands before the storm ends.”

Said hands were now resting on either side of her belly, roaming south toward the rim of the shirt. Nesta closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, reveling in the constant warmth of Cassian’s body against her own, the roughness of his palms.

Right there and then, she decided she would give up and give in, lifting her arms so Cassian could peel the shirt right off of her, and bared her neck to him.

Right there and then, their baby decided not to be as enthusiastic about what was going to happen as they were, and started kicking. Hard. Nesta hissed in pain, gripping Cassian’s shoulders for support. Cassian, coming back to his senses, stroked Nesta’s back and placed his other hand on the belly-turned-punching bag, taking care of both the mother and the daughter at once.

“I can’t believe she’s not even out and she already has a favorite,” said Nesta through clenched teeth. Cassian laughed lightly, leading Nesta toward the still fuming bathtub, filled with bubbles almost to the brim. It took them a few tries to climb in and find the right position, but not much after they were both comfortably laying back-to-chest, hands rubbing soft skin.

“She’s taking her sweet time,” Cassian said after a couple of minutes of silence, “yet we’re still stuck.”

“What do you mean?”

“We don’t have a name. What do we call her?”

Nesta, who was tracing soapy lines on the back of his hand and down his forearm, following scars and veins, stopped short in her tracks. “We’ll find something, eventually.”

He kissed her bare shoulder, muffling his chuckles against her skin, “I can’t wait for her to be here.”

With that, Nesta’s thoughts took off. “Yeah, me too.”

“Not so much enthusiasm, it’s only our firstborn child.” Cassian’s chest shook against her back as the tip of his nose stroked her fluttering pulse. His hand stilled, leaving her belly skin tingling, and Nesta shut her eyes closed, waiting. He knew something was wrong.

“What is it, Nes,” he said ever so gently, his mouth now brushing her ear.

“It’s nothing, really.” She knew she was being paranoid, and most—if not all—future mothers felt the same way she did, at some point or another, but that knowledge didn’t stop her troubles to pool at the base of her spine, crawling up her back.

“Whatever is going on in your head, I want to know. I don’t care if you think it’s stupid or pointless. I want to know, all of it.” His tone didn’t falter once, didn’t even turn angrier, demanding. “Please.”

Nesta exhaled slowly, tipping her head back to rest it on Cassian’s shoulder.

Cassian had never marched into her head and heart, taking control of her life. He’d waited patiently to be granted access, slipping past all her defenses almost unnoticed and taking root in the darkest part of her. Not pushing, not pulling: just waiting—for her to open up, for the light to find its way in, for the cracks to stitch back together, the scars to heal. The qualities she needed and loved most, all inside one huge bat. Patience, loyalty, unconditional love.

“What if I can’t do this?” Nesta stumbled on the words stuck in her throat, choking her. Tears swelled her eyes as she struggled to blurt out the rest, no matter how many times she tried to swallow down the lump. “What if I can’t be a good mother?”

She took it all back: the damn had broken, there was no stopping her now.

“It’s not like I ever had these great parental figures to look up to, and we all know I took after my mother more than I should have,” a laugh escaped her lips, tasting sour. For all her life, Nesta has feared the day she would truly become her mother’s daughter. It was her mother’s face she saw when she looked in the mirror; her mother’s voice she heard when she snapped and spit venom at anyone who got too close; her mother’s creature she became when her mind wandered a little too far back, whenever she read other people’s body language as easily as she would a book, and asked herself how easy would it be to take and take and take and leave only ashes in her way. Sometimes Nesta became her, so much so that she felt sick to her stomach. All these years, all this pain and anger and regret, and she still couldn’t let her go. “I don’t want to be like her, I don’t want our baby to—”

“Hey, stop. Stop.” Cassian’s hands tightened around her, anchoring her as she found her way through her too-loud thoughts, every word more grounding than the one before. “You’re not like your mother.”

A hand flew to her face, mixing salt and soap. “How would you know? You haven’t even met her.” Thankfully.

“You’re not your mother and you’ll never be because you care.” The words caught Nesta so off guard that, for a moment, everything went quiet. Nothing but the sound of water dripping and heart beating filled the room. “You care so much about this baby, Nesta. You’ve cared about her from the moment we’ve learned about her existence. When she wasn’t even a she yet.”

Two fingers pinched her chin, forcing her head to the side. Beautiful hazel eyes were waiting for her own, burning and melting all at once. She’s never been able to hide from his gaze, never been able to cover the ugliest truths from him. Nesta kinda hated how she loved it. It made everything much easier to overcome: knowing you won’t ever have to search for words you couldn’t find to explain what you couldn’t name. He’d always seen it—seen her.

Cassian’s voice soothed her nerves like a balm. “You already love her more than your mother ever did. I know that for a fact because I’ve been by your side every step of the way—and this isn’t just about the pregnancy.”

Nesta couldn’t help the little laugh that bubbled up, thinking back to how it started: the pain, the House, the Valkyries.

Look, how far you’ve come.

Nesta learned to live with this presence in her life. The timeless voice of the Mother making its way through her mind, the faint touch of her embrace, the feeble whisper of a presence following her every move.

She turned her head, catching the first rays of the sun shyly cutting through the curtain of clouds. Nesta couldn’t tell when it stopped raining. She was now able to go home, just as she’d wanted to. She should feel relieved, and yet she wasn’t—not completely, at least, because going home meant popping the bubble, and this bubble wasn’t that bad, after all. So Nesta kept quiet, reveling in Cassian’s hands roaming all over her body, Cassian’s lips tasting her skin, Cassian’s scent filling her lungs, Cassian’s love tending her frail and wounded heart. Anything, if done by Cassian, tended to have a whole different outcome. Content with just his reassuring presence, Nesta glanced out the window once again, mesmerized by how the light played with the mist rising from the forest blanketing a nearby mountain, curling around trees like it got stuck in their branches.

“Our kids will never know a day without their parents’ love growing up,” she said, breaking the silence.

Cassian agreed without missing a beat. “There will always be light. Only light.”

“Nora,” Nesta said, tasting the sound on her tongue.

“What?”

A small smile played on Nesta’s lips as she repeated, “Nora. Light. That should be the name for the baby.”

“Since when did you know Illyrian?” He sounded more surprised than upset, given his many attempts at teaching her the dialect.

“I do live with two outgrown bats, you know,” she shrugged it off, feigning indifference. Her heart, on the other hand, was in need of praise—it started in the bedroom, but it took control of every aspect of her life. Just a few words from Cassian, and she felt weak in the knees but beaming with pride at the same time.

The rumble of his deep laugh rolled straight to the tip of her toes. “So Emerie has nothing to do with it?”

“Who knows.”

She had struggled so much during their lessons that they became very few and far in between, with Cassian having to prioritize his actual duties as General Commander rather than a “personal hobby”, leading to the meetings stopping altogether. But it was his mother tongue and the Illyrians, no matter how Illyrian they might be, were still his people. For centuries he’d been the only one fighting for the cause, and for even more centuries he will keep fighting no matter the odds.

Cassian had been the only one left standing one too many times—his beliefs hard to kill, his hope harder still. Nesta thought he might like some company.

#dee writes #Nora #nessianweek2022 #nessian #nessian fanfiction #nessian fic #nesta archeron #cassian #nesta and cassian #nesta x cassian #cassian x nesta #pregnancy fic

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