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The Center Cannot Hold
Charles Leclerc x wife!Reader
Summary: one cruel diagnosis sends your hopes and dreams crashing down in painful shards around you
Warnings: cancer, medical procedures, infertility, religion, recommendation to terminate pregnancy
The sun sneaks through slits in the blinds, casting patches of warmth on your shared bed. You’re nestled against Charles’ chest, his heartbeat a gentle hum beneath your ear.
“Morning,” he murmurs, voice thick with sleep.
You smile, shifting around to meet his gaze. “It’s beautiful outside.”
Charles brushes a stray hair behind your ear. “Every day with you is beautiful.”
There’s a silent pause as the two of just stare at each other. You both know there is more to this morning than mere pleasantries. You think of the tiny stick in the bathroom, far more significant than its small size would have you believe.
“Should we?” You ask hesitantly.
He nods, pressing a soft kiss on your forehead. “Together.”
You both rise hand in hand, making the short walk to the bathroom. Your hands tremble as you reach for the plastic stick on the granite counter.
With a deep breath, you pick it up.
Two lines.
Positive.
Tears prick your eyes and you turn to Charles. “Look,” your voice barely a whisper.
He chokes on air. “Is this ... are we really”
“We did it,” you confirm, tears streaming freely.
Charles’ eyes shimmer with unshed tears of his own. He pulls you into his arms, burying his face in your hair. “We’re going to be parents.”
You pull back slightly, placing a hand on your stomach. “Our baby.”
He nods, laughing softly through his tears. “Our little miracle.”
Holding the test between you both, you share a look of wonder. It feels like the universe has just shifted and realigned in the most beautiful way.
***
The waiting room is a sea of neutral tones and the soft murmurs of hushed conversations. You sit, nervously tapping your fingers on your knee, while Charles wraps an arm around your shoulders in an attempt to calm you.
He leans down to whisper in your ear, “You alright?”
You give him a small, tense smile. “Just a bit nervous. First-time jitters, I guess.”
Charles gives your hand a reassuring squeeze. “Everything will be fine. It’s just a routine check-up.”
Before you can respond, a soft voice calls out, “Mrs. Leclerc?”
You both rise and follow the nurse as she leads you into a cozy exam room, pastel walls adorned with photos of smiling babies and happy families.
After a series of routine checks and questions, the mood remains light. However, when the doctor enters, a middle-aged woman with a kind face, there’s a subtle shift in the air, a feeling that’s hard to pin down.
“First-time parents?” She asks with a warm smile, trying to put you at ease.
Charles nods, beaming with pride. “Yes and we’re over the moon about it.”
She returns the smile but then her expression becomes more clinical, professional, as she reviews the ultrasound. The room is filled with the sound of the machine and your quiet exhalations.
Minutes stretch on, the silence growing more pronounced. The doctor’s brows furrow, her lips pressed into a thin line.
Charles, sensing the change, grips your hand tighter. “Is everything alright?”
She hesitates for a moment before turning to face you both. “Your baby seems healthy but there’s something concerning about your cervix. I would like to run a few more tests to be sure.”
Your heart plummets, the room suddenly feeling colder. “What ... what do you mean?”
She chooses her words carefully, “There is a chance that it is just a benign irregularity but we need to be certain.”
Tests turn into more tests and the hours seem to blur. Charles is fidgeting anxious mess beside you but his thumb never stops stroking your hand.
Finally, the doctor returns, the weight of the world seemingly on her shoulders. “I won’t sugarcoat it,” she begins heavily. “The results point to cervical cancer.”
Silence deafens the room. The world around you blurs and you feel Charles’ arms wrap around you, holding you as if you might shatter.
“No,” Charles whispers, his voice breaking. “There must be a mistake.”
The doctor looks at you with sympathy. “I wish there was. We caught it early but it’s aggressive. My recommendation would be to terminate the pregnancy and begin treatment immediately.”
Your mind races, heartbreak and disbelief clashing within. “Terminate? But our baby ...”
She gently cuts you off. “It’s the best chance to save your life.”
Your vision blurs, the reality of her words crashing over you like a tidal wave. The room, with its softly painted walls and happy baby pictures, suddenly feels like a cruel mockery.
Charles eyes are clouded over with tears and despair. “Please,” he whispers, holding your face between his trembling hands. “I can’t lose you.”
You choke back a sob, the enormity of the situation making it hard to breathe. “But our baby, Charles. Our little miracle.”
He hugs you close, his voice muffled as he buries his face your hair. “I know. But I need you. We promised each other forever, remember?”
You clutch at him, memories of shared dreams and whispered promises flooding back. The villa by the sea that you would fill with warmth and laughter, growing old together, watching sunsets side by side.
“I can’t imagine a life without you,” he continues, voice breaking. “Not a single day.”
The pain in his words cuts deep, each syllable a raw wound. You hide your face in his chest, tears soaking his shirt.
“We wanted this baby so much,” you whisper brokenly.
“I know,” Charles chokes out. “But I need you with me. I can’t be alone. I can’t live without you.”
***
The soft glow of a lamp casts long shadows, making the room feel both intimate and immense. You sit on the couch, a soft blanket draped around your shoulders, staring blankly at the tea that has long gone cold in your mug.
Charles sits opposite you, unmoving. He clears his throat, searching for words, “I’ve been thinking ... about what the doctor said.”
You look up, meeting his gaze, a storm brewing within it. “So have I.”
Charles closes his eyes, struggling with his emotions. “I can’t bear the thought of a world without you in it. I would be content, you know? To grow old, just the two of us, if it means I spend every day of my life with you by my side.”
Your heart aches, tears pricking your eyes. “Charles, our baby ...”
He cuts you off, voice filled with raw emotion. “I know. But you’re my world. I can’t lose you. I won’t lose you.”
A heavy silence settles between you two, the weight of unsaid words pressing down.
You take a deep breath, “I want this baby. I want our baby. But I also want to grow old with you, to be there for every race, for every win and every loss, on and off the track.”
He reaches across, taking your hand in his, fingers interlocking. “We’ve faced so much together. But this is tearing me apart. I just want you safe.”
You squeeze his hand, searching his eyes. “If I choose the baby, will you ... will you resent me? Will you resent them? If I choose the baby, and ... leave you alone?”
He looks away, the pain of thinking about it clear on his face, “Never. I would be lost. Completely and utterly lost. But I’ll never hold it against you. Or them. I’ll cherish our child but my heart ... my heart would be forever broken.”
You both sit in silence, lost in your thoughts.
“I’ve made up my mind.”
Charles looks at you intently, waiting.
“I’m going to keep the baby.”
He shuts his eyes tightly but a tear manages to slip through the crack and down his face. “I will support whatever decision you make. I just ... I love you so much.”
You move closer, wrapping your arms around him. “I love you too. We’ll face this together, no matter what.”
As you lay down beside Charles, the comfort of the familiar sheets beneath you, he wraps an arm around you, pulling you close. You can feel the tension in his body, the struggle to be the rock, to be strong.
In the quiet darkness, you feel more than hear his silent sobs, the tremors that shake his frame. You reach out, intertwining your fingers with his, offering the only comfort you can as the world falls apart around you.
***
“Please, mon amour, just eat something,” Charles implores, voice laced with worry as he holds out a plate of your favorite pasta.
The aroma drifts to you, making your stomach churn, but you force a weak smile. “I’ll try.”
It’s been months since that fateful doctor’s appointment. The specter of cancer looms over your pregnancy like a dark cloud, casting shadows on the joy you should be feeling.
Days blur into one another. Doctor visits are now your routine. Charles, who once sped around racetracks with fearless abandon, now navigates the hospital corridors with a silent determination.
There are days when weakness consumes you, moments when you can’t summon the strength to get out of bed. Charles has become your lifeline, helping you dress, making sure you eat, and even carrying you when your legs give out.
“I can’t do this,” you whisper to him one night, tears tracing down your cheeks. “I’m not strong enough.”
He cradles your face, his own eyes brimming with tears he refuses to shed. “You are the strongest person I know. You’re carrying our baby. That’s the bravest thing anyone can do.”
The pain is relentless, a constant companion. Each doctor’s visit brings more bad news. The cancer is spreading and your body is weakening. Yet, you cling to hope, to the belief that your love for each other can conquer anything.
One evening, you're curled up on the couch, aching and exhausted. Charles, sitting beside you, traces a finger along your cheek, his touch gentle as he tries to be strong for both of you.
“You’re my world,” he murmurs, voice thick with emotion. “I hate seeing you like this but I would rather be with you in this darkness than without you in the light.”
Tears well up in your eyes as you reach for his hand. “We’ll get through this together. Our love is stronger than anything. Even cancer.”
But you’re not sure how much you can believe that anymore.
***
“You’re playing with fire,” your sister blurts out the moment she steps into your living room. Her eyes are red, mascara messily smudged around them.
Charles’ jaw clenches but before he can retort, your father interjects, his voice roughened by age and worry, “She means you’re risking too much. We all see it.”
You sink further into the couch under the weight of their stares. “I know what I’m doing.”
“Do you really?” Your mother questions wetly. “Every time we see you, you’re paler, weaker. Is it worth it?”
Charles steps forward, taking your hand. “It’s her choice. And I’ll stand by her through everything.”
Your best friend sighs deeply. “We’re just scared for you. We don’t want to lose you.”
The room becomes a whirlwind of opinions, tears, and pleas. They all mean well, you know that, but the their concerns feel suffocating.
The tension escalates, words sharper than intended, when suddenly Charles explodes, “That’s enough! It’s her decision and it’s not up for you to debate.”
The room falls silent.
Your sister speaks up, “We just love you, that’s all.”
Charles collapses onto the couch beside you, burying his face in his hands. “And you think I don’t? I don’t want to be a widower. A single father looking at our child and seeing only the love we lost,” he admits in a hushed tone, his voice breaking. “It’s the only thing I see whenever I close my eyes. It plagues my dreams. But that love means supporting Y/N even if seeing what she’s going through breaks my heart.”
You pull him close. “I know. But I need to hold onto hope. To believe we can have it all. Our baby and a lifetime together.”
He gazes deep into your eyes. “I love you. More than words can say. I just want you with me, always.”
Tears flow freely down your cheeks as you reach for his hand. “I know you’re scared. I am too. But I believe in us, in our love. And I can’t bear to let go of our baby.”
He wraps you in a hug and you can feel his body trembling. “I don’t want to lose you but I can’t stand to see you suffer like this either.”
***
“Do you think they’ll have your eyes?” Charles murmurs, his hand gently resting on your swollen belly, fingers tracing small circles.
You smile weakly, feeling the flutter of tiny kicks in response. “Or your fearless spirit?”
He chuckles softly, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your baby bump. “Hey there, little racer. Promise me you’ll take after your mother more.”
Despite the weariness that constantly lingers, these quiet moments fill your heart with warmth.
“Imagine,” you whisper one evening, “our little one’s first day of school or their first race if they decide to follow in their papa’s footsteps.”
Charles grins, “And inheriting their maman’s stubborn streak will surely mean they’ll be a world champion.”
As your body grows heavier with the weight of the pregnancy and growth of the cancer, your time spent outside the confines of your bed becomes increasingly limited. The facade Charles wears for your benefit becomes increasingly brittle. He’s your rock, never letting his worries show in front of you, but you still see the toll it’s taking on him.
One evening, after ensuring you’re comfortably tucked in, Charles kisses your forehead softly and whispers, “Rest, mon amour. I’ll be right here.”
Drifting into a fitful sleep, you wake to the muffled sound of heart-wrenching sobs. Curiosity pulls you from the warm cocoon of your bed with the last of your strength, guiding you towards the soft light spilling from the slightly ajar bathroom door.
Listening closer, you can hear Charles’ broken voice, “I can’t ... I can’t lose her. Not like this.”
You press your hand to your mouth, tears spilling down your cheeks as you realize he’s on a call, probably with one of his brothers.
“You don’t understand,” Charles continues, his voice trembling with emotion. Every time I look at her, I see our future slipping away. Our dreams, our plans ... everything is fading into ashes.”
There’s a pause, punctuated with stifled sobs. “I have to be strong for her but it’s tearing me apart. Every smile I wear, every reassurance I give, it all feels like a lie because I am so freaking scared.”
Your heart aches, hearing the raw pain in his voice, knowing all this time he’s been shielding you from his own agony.
Silently, you retreat, not wanting him to know you’ve overheard. Slipping back into bed, you grapple with the weight of the shared pain, the collective heartache that has become your reality.
Minutes later, Charles returns to the bedroom. His eyes red-rimmed but determined. He sends a shaky smile your way, “How’s my brave girl?”
You reach out, trying to pull him against your chest with tired arms. “Let’s be brave together.”
He nods, choking back fresh tears. “Together. No matter what.”
***
The old church stands quietly in Maranello, its tall steeple pointing skyward, as if reaching out to the heavens. Inside, the soft glow of candles flickers as the side door swings open. Don Pietro, an aging priest with kind eyes lined with crow’s feet, is startled by the sudden entrance.
“Charles?” His voice, filled with surprise, echoes softly in the hushed space.
Charles’ normally confident stride is replaced with hesitation. “Don Pietro,” he tries to muster a smile but fails. “I ... I didn’t know where else to go.”
The priest approaches, eyes filled with concern. “I’ve been worried. When Ferrari announced you were taking a season off, I prayed for you.”
Charles chuckles bitterly, “Prayers. Never thought I would be seeking those.”
Don Pietro studies him for a moment. “Pain has a way of making us turn to the unexpected.”
Charles’ face contorts in anguish. “I’ve always called myself an atheist. After Jules ... after my father ... I felt abandoned by any god that might exist. But now, she’s ... she’s everything to me and I’m powerless to stop losing her.”
The priest’s voice is soft when he replies, “Life may test us in ways we can’t comprehend. But God never gives us more than we can bear.”
Charles’ laugh is hollow, devoid of mirth. “Bear? I can’t bear the thought of a world without her. Tell me, how does a loving god allow such pain?”
Don Pietro sighs, the weight of many years shining through. “I won’t pretend to know all the answers but sometimes faith is all we have.”
“I feel like I’m being punished, like I’m cursed. Why else would I lose the people I love most?” Charles looks at the ground, his shoulders slumped in defeat as he takes a shuddering breath. “I would give anything ... anything to save her. I have thought to visit mosques, synagogues, temples ... anywhere some higher power might listen to my pleas. I’m desperate, Don Pietro.”
The priest speaks gently, “Turning to God in times of despair is not weakness. It’s human. But faith is not about bargaining, it’s about having trust.”
A tear rolls down Charles’ cheek. “I’m so scared. Every night, I watch her sleep, wondering if it will be our last night together. I would gladly give up everything else if it means she stays with me.”
The priest reaches out, placing a comforting hand on Charles’ shoulder. “Then let’s pray, my son. Let us pray together.”
The tears turn to a steady stream rolling down Charles’ cheeks as he falls to his knees. “Please ... I’ll do anything. Just don’t take her away.”
Don Pietro kneels beside him. “God hears you, Charles. And He knows your pain.”
They stay united in prayer. Two souls reaching out to the heavens and begging for a miracle.
***
“It’s too early,” you gasp, clutching the bed sheets as another contraction grips you.
Charles is by your side, panic evident in his eyes even as he tries to keep you calm. “Breathe, love. Just breathe. We’ll get through this.”
But the pain is relentless, each contraction more intense than the last. The hospital room is a blur of activity, doctors and nurses rushing around, preparing for the premature delivery.
“You need to stay strong,” one of the nurses urges, trying to guide you through the pain.
Charles, pale and shaking, holds your hand so tightly it’s almost painful. “Stay with me,” he pleads, his voice breaking. “You and our baby, both of you, stay with me. Please.”
The labor is grueling, each passing minute a test of your willpower and strength. Charles is crumbling into pieces beside you, every ounce of his pain clearly written across his face.
“I can’t lose you,” he whispers, leaning close. “Not now, not ever.”
But the world around you is fading, the pain becoming too much to bear. “I love you so much. In this life and the next,” you choke out with the last of your strength as your vision tunnels.
Suddenly, alarms blare. The room becomes a whirlwind of organized chaos. “We’re losing her!” A doctor shouts.
Charles is pushed aside as they work to save you. “No! Please, no!” He screams in agony.
You’re dimly aware of being rushed into another room, doctors shouting orders and starting emergency procedures.
Then, everything goes black.
Charles is left in the corridor. A broken man, waiting for news, praying for a miracle. Hours feel like days, each passing second an eternity.
Finally, a doctor emerges, his scrubs covered in spots of dark blood. “The baby is fine,” he begins, “But your wife ... we had to put her in a coma. The cancer is advanced. We’ll do everything we can but she’s not out of the woods.”
Charles sinks to the floor, tears streaming down his face. “Please, just save her. Please.”
***
“It’s a girl,” a nurse approaches Charles with a small bundle wrapped in a soft pink blanket.
Charles, tears still fresh on his face, looks up, momentarily stunned. “A ... a girl?”
The nurse nods, offering the tiny newborn to him. “Would you like to hold her?”
He hesitates, then slowly reaches out, cradling his daughter in his arms. Her small face, a canvas of peace among the chaos, is a stark contrast to the turmoil surrounding them.
“She’s beautiful,” he whispers, tears starting anew. “Just like her mother.”
The nurse smiles gently. “Have you thought of a name?”
Charles nods, “Juliette. After my godfather.”
Gently rocking the infant, he leans down, pressing a tender kiss on her forehead. “Hey, Juliette,” he murmurs. “I’m your papa. Your maman and I have waited so long for you. We love you so much.”
Juliette stirs, her tiny fingers curling around one of Charles’ own.
“I promise,” Charles voice breaks, “to protect you. I will be here for you, always.”
A doctor approaches, clearing his throat. “Mr. Leclerc, your wife’s condition is critical. But she’s a fighter and she has a lot to fight for.”
Charles nods, looking down at Juliette. “She does. We both do.”
Gently rocking your daughter, he loses himself in the rhythm of her soft breaths and the warmth of her tiny body against his chest. It’s an odd feeling — holding the fresh promise of life in his arms while the love of his life hangs in the balance.
***
“We’ve run all possible tests,” the oncologist begins. Charles, clutching a sleeping Juliette to his chest, waits with bated breath. “The cancer has progressed aggressively. To give her a fighting chance, we need to perform a hysterectomy.”
The room grows cold as the gravity of the doctor’s words sinks in. Charles’ voice trembles, “But that means ...”
The doctor nods, voice as gentle as the situation allows. “She won’t be able to bear children again.”
Silence stretches as the weight of the world seems to fall on Charles’ shoulders. He gazes down at Juliette, the embodiment of the dreams and hopes you both had.
“We had plans,” Charles whispers, more to himself. “We wanted more children, a big family.”
The doctor waits. “I understand how hard this is. But without the procedure, her chances ...”
“I know,” Charles cuts him off, voice breaking. “Do it. Do whatever it takes to save her.”
The doctor nods, squeezing Charles’ shoulder in a gesture of comfort. “We’ll do our best.”
As preparations for the surgery commence, Charles sits in the dimly lit waiting area, holding Juliette close. The baby, as if sensing the heavy atmosphere, remains unusually quiet.
“It’s not fair,” Charles’ lips form words meant for the void. “She’s sacrificed so much already. She deserves a world filled with joy and laughter.”
From across the room, a nurse, having overheard, speaks up, “Life has its cruel twists but the love you both share … that’s rare. Hold onto that.”
Charles nods, taking solace in the nurse’s words. Time seems to lose all meaning, each tick of the clock amplifying the uncertainty and fear.
Finally, a surgeon approaches, fatigue evident in her posture even as her face remains carefully professional. “The procedure went as well as could be expected. Your wife is stable for now.”
Relief floods Charles so rapidly that he has to stop himself from falling to the ground as he murmurs a heartfelt, “Thank you.”
But as he sits by your bedside, watching the steady rise and fall of your chest, the reality of what you had lost sets in. The dreams of a large family, shared laughter, and memories, all stolen by this cruel twist of fate.
***
The world around you is a haze of light and shadow, the sounds a distant echo. Your eyes flutter open and for a moment you’re lost, disoriented, and overwhelmed. Then, you see Charles, his face etched with relief and sorrow, tears glistening in his eyes.
“Welcome back,” he whispers, his voice cracking with emotion. “We’ve missed you so much.”
You try to speak but your throat is too parched to make a sound. Charles offers you a sip of water, his hands trembling as he helps you drink.
“What happened?” You finally manage to croak, your eyes darting around the unfamiliar room.
Charles takes a deep breath, his gaze never leaving yours. “The cancer ... it had advanced. They had to perform a hysterectomy to save you.”
The word hangs in the air, heavy and final. Your abdomen feels sore and you reach down, fingers tracing the bandages. Panic seizes you and the tears pour down without permission as the reality of what’s been taken from you crashes down.
“It’s gone,” you sob. “Our dreams ... our family.”
Charles leans in, tears mingling with yours. “Shh, mon amour. None of this is your fault. We’ll find another way, another path to happiness. We have Juliette and we have each other.”
But the weight of guilt is crushing. “We dreamed of a big family,” you cry, the depth of your loss piercing. “And I’ve taken that away from us.”
He brushes your tears away. “You have nothing to be sorry for. This is not your fault. We’ll make new dreams together, I promise.”
“I just wanted to give you everything,” the grief wracks your body.
“You already have,” Charles insists. “You’ve given me love, you’ve given me our little girl … our Juliette. That’s more than I could ever ask for.”
With great effort, you lift your arms, weak from the ordeal. Charles, understanding your unspoken desire, carefully places Juliette against your chest. You’re too weak to hold her on your own but together, you and Charles support her tiny form.
“Hello, Juliette," you whisper, tears of joy mingling with your earlier tears of grief.
She blinks up at you, her eyes wide and curious. You’ve never felt anything like what fills your heart as you look at the perfect human you both created, the embodiment of love and resilience.
“I love you both so much,” you whisper, heart swelling with a dizzying mix of joy and sorrow.
Charles, his own eyes filled with tears, leans down and kisses both you and Juliette gently. “We have each other and right now that’s all that matters.”
***
“I never imagined it would be like this,” your voice wavers as you lie propped up by pillows in the dimly lit bedroom.
Charles, his fingers intertwined with yours, meets your gaze. “Neither did I.”
The weight of all that’s transpired hangs heavily in the room. The joy of Juliette’s arrival is marred by the pain and loss you both feel.
“I feel ... incomplete,” you admit, tears forming in your eyes. “Like a part of me is missing.”
“I wish I could take away the pain,” Charles responds. “If I could trade places with you, I would in a heartbeat.”
You squeeze his hand. “It’s not your burden to bear. But it’s … hard. I wanted to give Juliette siblings, the big family we always talked about.”
Charles leans in to rest his forehead against yours. “We still have a family. We have each other and we have Juliette. We can still have a full, beautiful life together.”
You sigh, “But do you ever wonder why? Why us?”
He hesitates, searching for words. “Every day. Sometimes, there’s just no answer, only a path forward.”
You curl into him, drawing comfort from his warmth. “What does our path forward look like?”
Charles pulls back, looking deep into your eyes. “It’s filled with love, with hope. We heal together. We face challenges together. And we build a future together. No matter what.”
“I’m scared.”
He brushes away your tears. “So am I. But we have each other and that’s a pretty good place to start if you ask me.”
***
“She smiled, Charles! Did you see that? Juliette smiled!”
Charles rushes over and peers into the crib with gleaming eyes. “There it is! That little grin,” his voice is filled with wonder. “Our little miracle has the most beautiful smile. Just like her mother’s.”
Juliette, seemingly aware of the shared happiness in the room, gurgles softly, her small fingers reaching out to grasp a lock of Charles’ hair.
You watch them, a gentle smile playing on your lips. “She brings us so much joy. It’s amazing.”
Charles nods, his eyes never leaving Juliette’s face. “She’s our light in the darkness.”
Leaning over, you press a soft kiss to Juliette’s forehead. “I’m so thankful for both of you.”
He shifts closer, resting his head against yours. “You know, mon amour, I’ve been thinking ...”
You turn to him, curiosity piqued. “About what?”
He takes a deep breath. “About our dreams. I know it’s not what we originally planned but what if we consider adoption?”
Your heart skips a beat at his words, love and hope blossoming. “Adoption?”
Charles smiles warmly. “Yes. We’ve always dreamed of a big family. And there are so many children out there who need a home, who need love. We can give a child all of that and more.”
Tears well up in your eyes but they’re tears of joy and gratitude. “That’s a beautiful idea.”
He leans in, pressing his lips to yours gently. “Our love knows no bounds. The path to our dreams may not be as simple as we once imagined but we will get there, one step at a time.”
***
Charles’ phone buzzes with an incoming call in the early hours of the morning. Seeing a familiar name flash across the screen, he answers immediately. “Don Pietro? Is everything okay?”
“Charles, you need to come to Maranello. Both of you. As soon as possible.”
Charles exchanges a puzzled glance with you. “Is something wrong?”
“Just come,” Don Pietro insists, “and bring your wife. I believe there is a miracle waiting for you.”
The drive to Maranello is filled with anticipation. Your mind races with possibilities, questions whirling in a tornado of confusion and hope.
Upon arriving at the church, you’re met with the sight of the elderly priest holding a tiny bundle. The baby, with soft tufts of hair and eyes wide with curiosity, looks up at the two of you.
“This,” Don Pietro begins, “is Enzo. He was left on the steps of our church last night. And the moment I held him, I thought of you two.”
Charles’ eyes widen. “Enzo ... like Ferrari?”
Don Pietro nods with a soft chuckle, “It’s as if the universe is trying to tell us something.”
You reach out, taking the infant into your arms. Enzo’s little hand wraps around your finger, his eyes meeting yours. The connection is instant, like two souls recognizing each other.
Charles’ voice is thick with emotion, “It’s as if he was meant to be with us. A sign, maybe?”
Don Pietro smiles warmly, “Perhaps a nudge from above, reminding us that miracles happen when we least expect them.”
Tears spring to your eyes, the weight of the moment overwhelming you. Charles is equally moved, his eyes glistening and lips trembling.
“We talked about adoption,” he murmurs. “But this ... this feels like fate.”
Don Pietro nods. “He needs a family, love, and a home. And I believe you two can give him that.”
As Charles takes Enzo from your arms and cradles him close, a bond that goes beyond words quickly forms. You lean in, touching Enzo’s chubby cheek, your heart swelling with love.
The moment feels destined — a new piece seamlessly fitting into the puzzle of your family.
***
“Look at that, Julie and Enny! Those cars go vroom vroom,” you point out with a smile playing on your lips as the roar of engines fills the air.
Juliette’s eyes widen in awe, her tiny hand pointing excitedly. Beside her, Enzo claps his hands, giggling. “Vroom!” He mimics.
Charles, his racing suit on, kneels to their level. “Would you like to see papa’s car up close?”
Both children nod eagerly, their eyes sparkling.
As you make your way through the paddock, team members and other drivers stop to meet the kids. “Look at these future champions!” Exclaims one of the engineers, ruffling Enzo’s hair.
Juliette, ever the social butterfly, giggles and offers a shy “Hello.”
Reaching the Ferrari garage, the team breaks into smiles. “Looks like Charles brought his lucky charms today,” someone comments, causing a round of chuckles.
“Ready for a photo op?” Charles grins, lifting Juliette into the driver's seat as you follow suit with Enzo, placing him right beside his sister.
They look so small in the cockpit, faces full of wonder. “Beep beep,” Juliette laughs, pretending to steer.
“Future Ferrari driver right here,” Charles beams.
As the team gathers around, cameras flashing, you take a moment to soak it all in. The laughter, the joy, the memories — this is what life is about.
“There were times I thought this day would never come,” Charles whispers to you, his arm wrapping around your waist. “Our family here, all together.”
You squeeze his hand, tears of happiness threatening to spill over. “Our dream is now … and it’s only just beginning.”
***
“Henri and Helaine, look it’s your sister!” You cheer, pointing to the massive screen as Juliette’s Ferrari speeds past, making your young twins cheer and clap clumsily in excitement.
Charles grins as an orange blur follows shortly, “And Enzo’s not far behind. What a race!”
The atmosphere in the paddock is electric. Red for Ferrari, orange for McLaren, the colors of a family divided by teams but united by love.
Suddenly, a microphone appears as a familiar reporter approaches. “A quick word for the fans? It must be a thrilling day for the Leclerc family!”
Charles grins, adjusting his half-Ferrari, half-McLaren cap. “Oh, absolutely! We couldn’t be any prouder. A bit of sibling rivalry never hurt anyone, right?”
You laugh, nodding in agreement. “We’ve always said, as long as they’re safe and enjoying themselves, that’s what matters. Though,” you add with a playful wink, “I always wear both colors, just in case!”
The reporter chuckles. “And the young ones? Future racers in the making?”
Henri, with all the innocence of childhood, pipes up, “I wanna go vroom too!”
Helaine nods rapidly. “Me too! Super duper fast.”
You and Charles exchange a glance in amusement. “Well, there you have it,” Charles says with a smile. “Looks like the tracks will be seeing Leclercs for many years to come.”
The race ends with both Juliette and Enzo clinching a podium finish. The celebrations are loud and filled with joy, but for you, true happiness is seeing your family — past, present, and future — come together just like you always dreamed.
#f1 imagine#f1#f1 fic#f1 fanfic#f1 fanfiction#f1 x reader#f1 x you#charles leclerc#cl16#charles leclerc imagine#charles leclerc x reader#charles leclerc x you#charles leclerc fic#charles leclerc fluff#charles leclerc fanfic#charles leclerc blurb#f1 blurb#f1 one shot#f1 x y/n#f1 drabble#f1 angst#f1 fandom#f1blr#f1 x female reader#charles leclerc x female reader#charles leclerc x y/n#scuderia ferrari#charles leclerc one shot#charles leclerc drabble
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Little Girl Gone Part 4 (Steddie X You)
Warnings: Officer Steve harrington/ Gangster Eddie munson & Doctor fem submissive Y/N, SMUT, degrading, some spanking, LOTS of dirty talk, handcuffs, slight overstimulation, after care of course.
ANGST, Jason causing problems before the meeting with his dad. Mentions of explosions and shooting. Eddie being sexily intimidating <3, Steve's dad makes a cameo and undermines the readers profession like a dick. Slight cliffhanger ending...I guess. Idk lol
Word Count: 5993
Last Chapter Here
“Last chance, sweetheart. Are you sure you want to do this?”
Your hold on Eddie’s arm tightens as you exhale out your nerves. This entire week had been rough not just on you but them as well. You were ready for it all to be over so you could just enjoy being with the new men in your life. If this is what you needed to do for that to be done so be it.
“Yeah, I’m sure.”
As you smile up at him, he leans down to kiss your lips making you laugh as you quickly wipe away the lipstick that lingered on his mouth.
Both your demeanors hardened as the door to the venue was opened and Eddie led you inside.
***
The gangster ran into the hospital room with you trailing behind, glancing at the chart that was attached to the wall as Steve stood by Chrissy’s bed side.
“What happened?!”
“Witnesses say they don’t know. Just, suddenly, her store was fire.”, the officer relayed with a sigh. “It’s all gone, Ed.”
“It says here she should be fine…physically at least.”, you add as your sad eyes shift towards the unconsciously girl in front of them.
“We-we can rebuild her store. That won’t be an issue—”
“EMS found a note pinned to her sweater.”
Steve handed him the slightly charred piece of paper that Eddie read aloud.
“No, Kiddo, this moment…this is me at my most masochistic.
Three.”
“The fuck does that even mean?”
“It’s a quote from Kill Bill. Everything but the three. I don’t know what that means.”, you answered, trying to hide the fear and worry.
Placing his hands on his hips, Eddie begins to pace.
“I really think you two should stay in my apartment until we get this resolved.”
“You and I both know I can’t do that.”, Steve murmurs as his face scrunches in thought. “And we both know she’s not because of her patients.”
A knowing smirk flashes along your features as you shrug.
“I don’t like this. I still think—”
“I know what you think, Ed, and I’m telling you no.”, the officer cut him off. “You already went and attacked him once and look what’s happening.”
“I feel weak, Steve. Like I’m letting him get away with this bullshit.”
“You’re not weak. If anything, he’s weak for reacting this way.”, you respond as you wrap your arm around his waist and in response he kisses your forehead.
“I just… I’m still going to have some of my guys watching over you two. Y/N, Gareth will be in the clinic with you and Steve, Jeff can linger out of the way so he isn’t seen.”
#########
“Jesus, ALL of Hawkins High Society is here.”, you murmur as you two enter the garish ballroom style area where extremely well-dressed people had gathered.
Eddie had taken you shopping and bought you a beautiful (expensive) red evening dress that flowed to your ankles but had a slit up to just below your hip. He had bought you some equally expensive jewelry to match except for the bracelet around your wrist.
“I know it’s not as lavish as what Tony Montana here got you but I saw it in the store and it made me think of you.”, Steve blushed as he hooked the bracelet to you and spun it around. It was a simple silver chain but in the middle was what looked like a heartbeat reading you see on ECG machines at work. “Since you, ya know, stole the other half of my heart.”
“Wow, Steve Harrington. That was smooth.”, Eddie chuckled. “Um, here. Here’s MY other half as well.”, he grinned softly as he slides one of his rings onto your finger.
“Yeah like you said before, ‘rich people trying to make themselves feel better.’.”
Eddie insisted you both should stand out so not only would people see you together and know you’re his but it would draw the eye of Mr. Carver so he’d hopefully come talk to you two. His suit matched your outfit with a red button up but every other piece on him was a crisp black that made him seem even more handsome.
While your hair was down around your shoulders, his was up and pulled back so you could see his face a bit more. Occasionally during the car ride, you would lean over and kiss his cheek just because you could making him beam over at you as he squeezed your hand.
Leading you to the bar, he ordered you both a glass of champagne making you giggle as you watch him chug it down and ask for another.
“Nervous?”
“Uh a little but not for the reason you might think. I’ve never met Steve’s parents. I’ve heard stories and of course they don’t know about us but for some reason I still want them to kind of like me.”, he playfully winces making you laugh harder.
“That’s normal, baby. You love him so you want them to like you; to approve.”
Grinning in your direction, Eddie leans down to kiss your cheek while you were taking a sip from your glass.
“What was that for?”
“I’m just so glad we met you. I wish it was under different circumstances but—”
“One bourbon, straight, please and thank you.”, Steve sighs heavily as he leans over the counter waiting for his drink. “My parents are on their bullshit tonight.”
“I’m sorry, honey.”, you whisper with a smile as he thanks the bartender again and knocks back his drink.
“Steven, I thought you were bringing everyone back something.”, a man practically whined as he came up behind him.
“I was. Dad, this is Dr. Y/N Y/L/N and—”
“Edward Munson, sir. Nice to meet you.”, Eddie greeted as he enthusiastically extended his hand for him to shake.
As the officer turns to grab the drinks and hide his smirk, you subtly bumped him with your hip.
“Hm. I’ve heard your name around town. Very prominent young man. What do you do exactly?”
“Management you could say sir.”
“And you young lady? Are you a real doctor or just one of those professor types?”
“Um, I own my own clinic and treat patients.”
“Oh yeah? Where?”
“It’s Hawkins Virtue Clinic on the lower west side.”
“Ah on the crime riddled side of town where people can’t even afford napkins from a restaurant let alone healthcare.”
Your gaze shifts to Steve who tilts his glass towards you in a cheer gesture with a little smile as he knocks back its contents.
“I guess you could say that. That’s why I don’t charge them more than they can afford.”
“How do you make money then?”
“It’s not always about money. For me, all that matters is people can live long healthy lives.”
“Not in Hawkins, honey, but it’s a cute dream. Come on, Steve, your mother is waiting.”
“I’ll see you peasants later.”, he teases as he winks and follows his father.
“Well, that was a good test run.”, you joke as you turn to face Eddie.
“Yeah, hopefully George isn’t that cynical.”
#############
“Thank you for keeping an eye on me these past few days.”, you beam at Gareth as you both walk to your car.
“Of course. It’s actually been oddly exciting. I learned that green is never really a good color especially on or IN your skin unless its vegetables, obviously.” He grins when you laugh. “I also learned that sick kids are VERY loud and nurses deal with way too much.
“They really do. I try to give them raises as much as I can to show my appreciation but it’s hard with my lack of funds.”
“I’m sure Eddie could help if you asked.”
“Oh, no. I couldn’t impose.”
Your guard paused, holding his arm out to stop you as well.
“Stay here.” Drawing his gun, he slowly walked forward towards your car, scanning the interior and around the side. Noticing a note tapped to the door handle, he carefully pulls it off and reads the contents before his wide eyes meet yours.
“Y/N RUN!”
As he starts sprinting your way, you suddenly feel heat and a strong wind that knocks you off your feet as your car explodes.
***
Eddie’s tires skid as he slams on his breaks when he arrives at your clinic. Bypassing all the fire fighters and EMS, he entered the building hunting for you.
“What happened?! Baby, are you alright?”
Silently, Steve grabbed his partner’s arm and dragged him off to the side. Digging into his pocket, he handed Eddie the note that was taped to your car.
“I'm not gonna kill you. Your job will be to tell the rest of them that death is coming for them, tonight. Two.”
“I looked it up, it’s a quote from another movie involving revenge. And I’m assuming—”
“He’s counting down.”, Eddie interrupts. “I’m going to fucking kill that son of a bitch.”
“No, hey. We have a plan, remember? Right now, she needs you.”
After coming back around the corner, Steve shoos the EMS people away as he sits beside you in your waiting area with his pencil and pad pretending to take your statement while the gangster takes a seat on your other side.
“Princess, look at me. Are you ok? Did you get hurt?”
“Uh, no. Gareth, he, um, he did though.”, you respond as your tear-filled eyes meet his. “I tried to do what I could, Eddie. H-He was badly burned. I-I-I don’t have stuff here for those kinds of burns.”
Tilting you against him, he presses your head to his chest as you sob.
“EMS said that he will most likely be ok and if you hadn’t been there he would have died. Honey, you saved him.”
“H-He saved me, Steve.”
“You’re both staying with me. No arguments.”, Eddie announced as you nodded.
“I have to go in and fill out my report—”
“Steven…”
“I know, I know. I’m probably next but there’s nothing I can do, Eddie. I have to go in and do this. Plus, I have Jeff and a station full of cops. I’ll be ok.”
############
“I’m going to go smoke a cigarette, sweetheart, ok? Don’t go far.”
You nod as you watch him reach into his pocket and pull out his pack as he disappears out on the nearby patio. Glancing at all the people around you, you suddenly feel extremely isolated completely unsure of what you should be doing.
“Don’t let them see you crumble.”, an older man chuckles as he steps closer to you. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you. I know what it’s like to walk into this sea of rich people and feel completely out of place. When my father and I moved here, we had nothing but a few pennies in our pocket but he knew how to finagle. Networked his way to his first 100K and used that to start an empire.”
“That’s amazing. My, uh, my grandparents were the same. They said personality goes a long way in any business. My grandma opened a tutoring center on the east side and helped so many underprivileged kids go on to college. My dad thought she was ridiculous. ‘You’re barely making ends meet, ma!’”, you roll your eyes.
“Ah, one of those.”, the man smiles. “I inherited my father’s company and then gave it to my son. Did your grandmother do the same?”
“Oh, no. She got sick pretty early on in her life and I moved in with them to help take care of her. It’s what actually sparked my interest in medicine. I’m a doctor and I run my own clinic, Hawkins Virtue.”
“Oh! I’ve heard of that place. You help a lot of people who are struggling.”
“I try.”, you grin, happy to meet someone who seems to genuinely find interest.
“Do you need funding? I’d love to come by and see what you do.”
Shifting your gaze, you notice Steve watching you intensely from beside his parents.
“I would like that very much. I’m Dr. Y/N Y/L/N.”, you introduce as you offer him your hand that he takes and kisses the back off.
“George. George Carver.”
***
Steve sighs as he heads out of the police station to go home. Placing the ear bud in his ear, he taped his phone to immediately call Eddie.
“What’s going on?? Are you alright?”
“Yeah, babe. I’m fine. I’m on my way now.”
“Ok, stay on the phone with me till you’re almost here.”
“Heh. I love when you get protective.”
Eddie listens to every footstep with anticipation as the officer heads towards his car.
“You’re my Paladin, babe, but I’m the Master. I can take care of you to.”
“You’re such a nerd.”, he chuckles, pausing at the sight of the note on his windshield.
Trying not to startle his boyfriend, he carefully removed it as he backed away from his car.
“Killing's got to be accepted. Murder was the only way that everybody stayed in line. You got out of line, you got whacked. Everybody knew the rules. One.”
Something suddenly whizzed passed him, shattering his driver’s side window.
“Fuck me.” As soon as he hit the ground, multiple rounds of gunfire went off around him. Steve could barely hear Eddie in his ear as he crawled behind a nearby vehicle and waited.
“STEVEN! ANSWER ME GODDAMN IT!”
“I’m ok! I’m ok!”
Pointing his gun towards the car, he fired a few rounds before it disappeared around the corner.
***
Eddie paced as you cleaned the cuts on Steve’s hand he had received from all the glass on concrete. The gangster was on edge since he had to wait for police to scope the scene and take the officer’s statement.
“Fucking asshole. Steve, I’m sorry but I can’t let this slide. Two of my friends are in the hospital and he almost killed you two.”
“No. He wants to kill us in front of you remember. This was just to toy with you and us.”
“I don’t like the casual way you said that.”, Steve teased as he pokes your nose with his free hand.
“Excuse me. Not a joke here!”
“You’re right, baby. Talking with his father won’t be enough. He crossed a line but we need to focus on this first to keep Y/N safe. After we handle that, then we can handle him.”
“I may have an idea that won’t upset his father IF we get that approval and will get your message across.”, you announce as they give you their attention.
############
“Mr. Carver.”
“Ah, Mr. Munson or should I saw Edward. We don’t want to confuse you with your father now do we?”, the man laughs light-heartedly as your gangster circles a protective arm around you. “Do you know Dr. Y/L/N here?”
“Oh, please, sir. You can call me Y/N.”, you beam trying to remain as calm as possible.
“Yes, sir. I met Y/N when she saved me from a nasty wound I got. I had heard of all the things she’s done for the community so, of course, I had to get to know her better.”, he grins as he pulls you closer.
“That ‘nasty wound’ wouldn’t have been inflicted by my son per chance?” Eddie stiffened a bit beside you as the man gave him a once over. “Yeah, I know you and Jason don’t get along but that doesn’t give you the right to invade his turf and kill his best friend.”
“If I may, Mr. Carver, is there a private place we can talk?”
“No, you may not. Whatever is going on between you and him doesn’t involve me. You two are in charge now. Handle it.”
As he starts to walk away, you reach out to grab the man’s bicep.
“Please, sir. So many innocent people have gotten hurt just in this week alone. Your son is throwing a tantrum over something he started and is upset because Eddie didn’t let it go like his father used to. Please, just listen to what he has to say. We don’t want anything in return or anything like that. Just…listen.”
Jason’s father sighs as he glances you over.
“You would even decline the generous donation I was thinking of giving to your clinic? That’s a lot of funds that could help a lot of people.”
“This will help more.”
At your sentence, he blinked and stood up straighter.
“Ok. Ok, Mr. Munson. Let’s talk.”
***
Jason exhaled as he took off his tie and laid his gun on the kitchen counter with his keys as he headed towards his living room.
“Long night?”
“Jesus Christ, dad!”, the man jumped as he clutched his chest. “You scared the shit out of me. What are you doing here?”
“I could ask you the same thing. I thought you were going to the fundraiser event tonight.”
“I was busy.”
“I hope you weren’t busy with anything involving the Munson crew.”
As his father rose to his feet, Jason stood up straighter.
“I told you. That asshole killed Andrew—”
“After you broke into his girlfriend’s house and pulled a gun on him?”
“He killed Patrick and my friends!”
“AFTER you kidnapped his friend WHO IS A COP and beat him up! You stupid idiot!”, his dad growls as his son flinches. “What’s this I hear about you starting fires, blowing up cars, and doing shootings outside of a police station?! And leaving these moronic notes like this is some gangster movie!”, George shouts as he grumbles the papers he was given and tossed them his way. “This is not how we run our business, Jason.”
“Edward Munson needs to be taken out.”, he seethes.
“Edward Munson will be left alone and so will his crew. That includes Steve Harrington and Y/N Y/L/N. Do you understand me, son?”
“Are you kidding!? He just gets away with killing my friends?!”
“BE GLAD I DON’T KILL YOU! Sit down!” Jason cowers at his father’s anger as he sits on the couch. “If you weren’t my son, I’d have gotten rid of you for how sloppy you’ve been. That being said you still need to understand that there are consequences to your actions.” Looking past him, George addresses the darkness behind his son’s ear. “He’s all yours.”
Something sharp stings the gangster’s neck as his world begins to spin.
“I trust whatever you come up with, Mr. Munson, the punishment will fit the crime.”
As you and Eddie come into view, Jason’s world goes dark.
#################
“Good morning, sunshine.”, Eddie jests as Jason’s eyes flutter open. “I wouldn’t wiggle too much if I were you. The view up here is pretty great but not when you’re falling down eight stories.”
The rival gangster’s eyes finally adjust to see the other man in front of him with you and Steve on either side. He tried to move but soon realized he was bound to a chair with duct tape over his mouth, completely at your mercy as he was perched near the edge of a tall building.
“You know, I’m a fan of movies myself. The one thing my father and I could connect on was The Godfather trilogy. Did you ever see those, Jason?” The man’s only response is trying to tug at his restraints. “No? That’s ok. The third one is utter garbage but that second one. Oof…so good. There’s one line in there that always stood out to me. ‘Chiedi di me ai tuoi amici del quartiere. Ti diranno che so come ricambiare un favore.’”
Stepping forward with his hands in his pockets he continues.
“It’s Italian. ‘Ask your friends in the neighborhood about me. They'll tell you I know how to return a favor.’”
The rival gangster’s eyes widen as Eddie kneels to his level, balancing on his heels as he speaks to him again is a soft tone laced subtle venom.
“You crossed a line, Carver. If it were up to me I would have killed you and your entire enterprise after hurting Steve and threatening Y/N. After the stunts you pulled this week, I almost did. You can thank this young lady here for talking me out of it.”
Jason’s eyes flick to your angry ones before looking at the other man again.
“She also suggested we talk to your father which was a brilliant idea. He’s very levelheaded and kind of funny. Right, guys?”
“Hysterical. He thought what you did at the police station was so amusing he recommended I take you in and throw you in a cell with Allen since you miss him so much.”, Steve quipped with a smirk.
“After blowing up my car and breaking into my apartment, he thought I should use some of things I learned at medical school as a punishment. Oddly enough, castration was the first thing to came to his mind. I told him I didn’t think you had any balls to remove since you were acting like a five-year-old.”, you add making Eddie’s smile widen.
“He also suggested we make the punishment fit the crime thus you’re ours for the next week, buddy!” As the gangster lightly taps his face, Jason starts to cry. “But, Carver, I’m not going to do that. Do you know why? I’m not my father and I’m not like you. I don’t kill for pleasure and I don’t like hurting people. I want this to stop. But make no mistake…” Eddie reaches for Jason’s throat and squeezes it between his ringed fingers. “If you ever threaten or hurt these two again or even fucking think of coming on to my side of Hawkins, I will burn your side to the ground and make you regret ever being born let alone taking your father’s mantle. Am I being clear?”
Ripping away the tape his lips, the gangster squeaks as he continues to cry.
“Yes! I understand. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Eddie.” After tapping his cheek again, Eddie turns taking your hand in his as you three head for the door to leave the roof of the building. “Hey! What about me?!”
“Oh, we’ll call the building super in the morning. Just…don’t lean back.”, Steve answers with a sarcastic thumbs up as the door closes behind him.
##################
You giggled in Eddie’s arms as he held you to him, kissing your lips with vigor as he carried you up the stairs with Steve trailing right behind.
“You…are…amazing.”, he cooed between each breath as he fell with you onto the bed.
“You really are.” Steve added as he threw himself beside you and began sucking on your neck.
Ringed fingers glided hastily up the slit in your dress, moving the silk blocking your core, and effortlessly pushed into your entrance, pumping in and out so quickly the sound of your arousal filled the room.
“Fuck, Eddie.”
“You got me so hard, sweetheart, watching the way you took control talking to George. Jesus and in that beautiful fucking dress.” Your hand floated down to cling to his as his digits inside of you moved at a relentless pace. “I had to keep telling myself to focus because all I wanted to do was push you against that wall and fuck you till you couldn’t walk straight.”
Steve gripped your chin turning you so your lips could meet his as the gangster’s head fell into the nook between your head and shoulder.
“You’re a bad girl now, baby. OUR bad girl.”
“Tr-treat me like one.”
The officer chuckled at your needy tone as you panted into his mouth.
“Yeah? You want us to show you how bad girls get treated?”
“P-Please…please. Fuck I’m gonna cum.”
“Ask nicely, Y/N.”
Leaning your head against the gangster’s, you murmured consistent pleas, begging for relief that he granted as the coil snapped and you practically screamed his name. Offering his fingers to his partner, Steve licked them clean before leaning over you so their lips could mingle together.
After digging in one of his drawers, Eddie produced some handcuffs and passed them over to Steve who took hold of your wrists restraining you to the headboard.
“These are my own set so they should feel more comfortable on your skin than his steel ones.”, Eddie grinned as he kissed your lips.
“Babe, you forgot to take off her dress.”
“Fuck, silly me.” Grabbing the slit in the fabric, he yanked it apart tearing it up the middle till it split in half and fell away. “There we go.”
“No bra, honey? Definitely bad girl behavior.”
“Eddie told me not to wear one.”, you whine as Steve’s gaze shifts his way.
“What? I like her tits. Sue me.”
While Eddie removed his suit, the officer yanked down your panties and tossed them onto the floor while he kissed your lips.
“I bet you want to suck my cock, don’t you dirty girl?”
“I do. Please.”
“I like that. Keep beginning me like that.”
Jumping back into bed, the gangster took hold of one of your legs and lifted it over his shoulder before guiding his cock into your entrance.”
“Oh my god.”
Fingers circled tightly around your neck as your eyes met Steve’s anger filled ones.
“I said beg me for my dick, little girl.”
“P-Please, Steve. I wanna—fuck, Eddie—I wanna choke on your cock. Please! I need it!”
Quickly, he unbuckled his belt and shimmied down his pants enough to free his length, allowing it to hover over your lips.
“Tap three times loudly if you need to stop, ok?”
“Yes, yes sir.”
“Oh, look at that, Eds. Little girl found her manners.”
Eddie smirked as he continued to slam his hips into yours at a rough pace, his thick fingers digging into your thigh as he used it for leverage.
Opening your mouth, you prepared for some the things they had been teaching you. Flattening your tongue you waited, mewling when he finally gave you what you were begging for. As his cock slid down your throat, his fingers tangled in your hair and you focused on the feeling as he slowly thrust his hips.
“Good…good girl. That’s it. Shit, baby. That’s it. You’re almost taking all of me.” Feeling your body tremble, Steve holds you still, allowing you choke and gag around him as you cum. “Yes! You’re ok, baby. Just a couple more seconds.”
Tapping once, you signal you need air and he immediately pulls out to pet your head, murmuring praises as Eddie slows his rhythm to almost a complete stop as he caresses your leg comfortingly.
“Good girl, honey. You did so fucking good. It took all my energy not to cum to but I want to cum inside your tight pussy, pretty girl. So beautiful. What color are we at, Y/N?”
“Green, baby. Green.”
At the word, the gangster lifts your other leg, pushing them together as he slowly thrusts his cock deep inside you.
As your eyes roll back and you moan, Steve kisses away your tears before murmuring against your lips, “Do you still want my dick, baby girl? Do you want me to fuck your pretty little throat? Feel us both deep inside you. I wonder if I can feel myself here.”, he coos as he gently places his hand on your neck. “I know I can feel Eddie fucking you so good. Right, honey?”
His large palm trails down your skin till you feel him press on your lower belly making you whimper louder as your back arches and you tug on your restraints.
“Yeah, he’s right here, nice and deep.”
Eddie grunts as his pace hastens, his partners words amping him up as Steve smiles. Lifting up on his knees once more, the officer holds his tip just above your lips, chuckling as your tongue needily reaches for him.
“Don’t forget what we talked about. Tap if you need to breathe or stop, baby. I’m gonna fuck your throat hard, ok?”
“Y-Yes. Please—fuck—please.”
Sliding his dick into your mouth, your eyes squeezed shut as he did what he said, constantly hitting the back of your throat over and over as the obscene sound of you gagging and drooling filled their ears. Both men became almost feral at the noise, Eddie shaking the bed as he pounded into you and Steve tugging harshly on your hair while mumbling under his breath.
“That’s it, little girl. Jesus. Your mouth feels so fucking good. Atta girl. Choke on my cock, you dirty little whore making a fucking mess. Mmm!”
Your legs abruptly hit the mattress as Eddie fell on top of you, wrapping his arms around your back as he rolled his hips into yours. The officer pulled back, stroking himself with his hand as he watched you both cum together. The gangster laid still trying to catch his breath as Steve reached down to play his hair.
“Fuck me. This pussy is too good.”, Eddie groaned as he sat up and lightly spanked your behind. “I’m glad it’s ours.”
After pulling out of you, both men shared a passionate filled kiss as they switched places, Steve wiggling underneath you so your back was on his chest. While the officer ran his palms over your breasts and along your sides, Eddie took hold of his partners cock, spitting over the tip before running it between your folds, teasing you both as it grazed your clit.
“Please.”, you whine.
Smirking, he did what you asked as the two of you groaned. Steve’s hands gripped your thighs, holding your legs open as he planted his feet into the mattress and thrust up into you.
“Fuck.”
“God, sweetheart, I wish you could see you both from my angle.”, the gangster moaned as he watched his boyfriend’s cock disappear inside you as he stretched you open. “Fuck me. Stevie didn’t even have the patience to take off the rest of his clothes.”, he chuckles, faltering the man’s rhythm as Eddie tugs his pants that had been pooled at his ankles the rest of the way.
Dropping your legs, one of Steve’s hands pulled your hair back as his other roughly kneaded your breast.
“Move your hips.”, he growled as you mewled, trying your best to bounce and roll your waist. “Harder, little girl. Make yourself cum again.” He continued to grumble with a rough tone in your ear, commanding you to move faster repeatedly while smacking your tits with his palm. Screaming his name, you stopped moving as your body shook against him and you pulled hard on the cuffs above you. “Atta girl. Fuck, I can feel your pussy quivering around me. You’re gonna give me one more and I’m gonna cum with you.”
“I…I can’t.”
“Color, princess?”, Eddie whispers as he presses his nose to your cheek.
“Green.”, you mumble as the tears stream down your face.
“Yeah? Fuck you look so beautiful like this with your make up running down like this. Fuck, baby. You can do it. You can give us one more.”
Steve starts moving again with purpose knowing he won’t last long and you most likely will spent after this. After licking his fingers, the long-haired man places them on your clit, rubbing circles into your nub as your sweaty head leans back while the other man clings to your waist.
“There you go, Y/N. Come on, baby! One more. You can do it!”, Eddie encourages, both men moving so fast you don’t even realize it’s coming till your orgasm hits you like a freight train. “Good girl! Good fucking girl.”
Circling his arms around you, Steve’s pace becomes sloppy till you feel him warm your insides as he grunts in your ear.
“Please…please…no…no more. I can’t.”
“No, sweetheart. You did so good. I’m going to uncuff you ok?” You nod as the gangster releases you from your binds and you wince at your sore muscles as you slowly bring your arms down. Steve carefully turns you both onto your side before pulling out of you, mumbling soft apologies as he tries not to hurt you. “Whenever you’re ready, we’re going to take a bath, ok? It will feel good on your body.”
After a few minutes of them smiling tenderly at you as they caressed and kissed parts of your skin, you signaled you were ready and Eddie lifted you into his arms as Steve ran the water. Doing what had become the norm, the gangster lit a cigarette as he sat behind you on the edge of the tub with his feet in the water as he began to clean you. What was new was when the officer pulled a wet wipe from a bag and kneeled beside you to clean your face.
“What’s that?”
“Oh, um, makeup remover. I bought it a while ago before all the bullshit happened for when you spend the night with us. Chrissy said this was a good brand for girl’s skin but if you have another just let me know.” It took him a moment to realize you two were staring at him with small smiles on your lips. “What? Hey, I’m a nice guy!”
“Yes, you are, pretty boy.”, Eddie coos sassily as he leans over to give him a peck as the man rolls his eyes.
“Thank you. You didn’t have to do that.”
His eyes remain downcast as he throws it away and places the bag on the counter.
“I know I don’t have to. I want to. WE want to…want you to be comfortable…and happy. Are you? Happy I mean.”
Tilting his chin, you kiss his lips as well making his smile grow.
“I am happy. Thank you for everything. It means a lot to me.”
Eddie’s already prepared when you lean your head back to kiss his lips as well making you giggle when he lingers making a loud mwah sound.
“Just because we settled the stuff with Jason doesn’t mean I’m out of danger does it?”
Both men freeze in place as they blink before Steve climbs into the bath in front of you and Eddie slides in behind you.
“No, it doesn’t. There’s always going to be people that want to challenge me and just because we scared Carver doesn’t mean he won’t fuck up again.”
“And like I told you before, now that people know you’re with Eddie, it may cause some ears to perk up with the police which may put more eyes on you than you’re used to.”
“But, sweetheart, we promise you we will do everything we can to keep you safe. I’d hurt or kill to protect you just like with Steve.”
“And, honey, I would hide evidence or lie to anyone in the department to protect you. Not just from people but any kind of jail time.”
“You’re ours, Y/N, and we will take care of you no matter what.”
You can feel their eyes penetrate you as your own remain off to the side as you absorb what they are saying.
Gently, fingers grip your chin, turning you to meet Steve’s soft honey hues.
“You can still leave if you want to. We can come up with a story to explain the party if you still want to have some…semblance of normalcy.”
“Whoa. Steve Harrington is breaking out the big words.”
You laughed at Eddie’s joke as the officer narrowed his eyes in playful annoyance.
“I don’t want to leave. I…”
You want to say it so bad. You want to tell them that you love them. But it’s only been a couple of months and they’ve been together for almost a year. No. You don’t want to scare them away after everything they just did to keep you safe. No…
“I…I trust you both.”
When you flash them a smile both men grin back as Eddie hugs you against his chest and Steve kisses your forehead.
##############
@5tud10-54r4h @munsonzgf @eddiesguitarskills @supraveng
@lilaclazer @ima1986 @micheledawn1975 @foreverminliv @corkadymu
@lemme-slytherin-that-dick @joannamuns9n @dashingdeb16 @sashaphantomhive @corrodedcoffincumslut @aactuaaltraash @nailbatanddungeon
#steddie#steddie smut#steddie fanfiction#steddie fic#eddie munson#steve harrington#stranger things#joe keery#joseph quinn#fan fiction#eddie munson smut#eddie fanfic#eddie munson fluff#steve harrington smut#steve harrington stranger things#steve harrington fanfic#stranger things fanfiction#mafia!eddie munson#officer!Steve harrington#steddie x reader#steddie x you#steddie x y/n#eddie munson stranger things#steddie angst
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Words we didn't mean (Lewis Hamilton)
There are some words exchanged that you didn't mean and Lewis feels bad when Angela told him you had called her for help
Note: english is not my first language
Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated, and while I'm not actively taking requests, I am writing some blurbs when I can (usually at nighttime when I can) so if you have any ideas or concepts that can be written in a small amount of sentences and you want to share, feel free to do so!
Tw: reader accidentally cuts herself while cooking (mentions hospital, blood, medication)
"Lew, please, we need to see about this", you said for what felt like the umpteenth time as you watched your boyfriend pack his laptop and the last minute things on his backpack, "I don't have time right now, and I told you already how I feel about it", he replied rather harshly for his usual tone and before you could even react, he did the zipper and grabbed his coat, "You're not leaving like this, are you?", you asked, the nervousness installing itself on your chest, "what do you want me to do? It's not like either of us are going to bend on this, is it?", he said and that stung. While it wasn't common for you and Lewis to disagree on things, whenever it happened, you two talked it out, hearing the other's ideas and finding a way to make it work for both of you, but it seemed today he wasn't drawn to take that time, especially when his ride to the factory meeting is nearly at the door, "I'll be home later", he said dryly before heading out of the door. Roscoe must have sensed something wrong, his paws the only noise you heard in the house as he came to stand by you, his paw tapping your leg slightly as he asked for scratches, "Daddy is a bit off today, I guess", you said as you compiled with his request.
After tidying the bedroom up, you put the clothes and sheets in the laundry basket and then into the washing machine, taking the opportunity to dry them quickly as the sun was shining brightly outside. Roscoe followed you like the little shadow he always is, and while you were making lunch for you you fed him a little bit of what you were preparing when the knife slipped from your hand and made you cut your other hand, the slit already bloody when you looked at it, "shoot, shoot, shoot", you said as you looked for a clean kitchen towell to wrap around it, next looking for you phone as you thought of how to proceed, "call Angela", you said outloud, never more thankful about these new technologies, watching the call begin on the screen, "Morning, beautiful! How are you?", her usually cheery voice cam through, "hii, how are you? I have a bit of a situation", you gulped, "I have cut myself whilst making lunch, It's in my hand, seems deep too, and while I can still move it" you hissed, "I don't think it is a good idea to change the gears or to turn the steering wheel, I'm afraid I'll open up the wound even more", you said as you tried to squeeze the fabric around your hand, "you're right, dear. I'll be at your place in 5 minutest take you to the hospital, okay?", Angela said before she hang up. While you waited for her, you got your documents to bring to the ER and a small crossbody bag to put all your belongings in just in time for the car to beep outside, "No, no, don't push too much", said Angela as she saw you try to close the front door on your own, helping you while looking at your hand, "that is indeed a nasty cut, let's see what they can do to it. You'll be good as new", she conforted.
While you were in the waiting room, you sensed that Angela had a question she wanted to ask, "instead of wondering, just ask it, please", you said gently while you kept applying pressure on the cut like the doctor who did your triage told you to do, "I haven't seen you call or text Lewis any updates, nor did you even mention him, is everything alright?", she mused, "we had a fight, I guess. We were discussing how I was going to attend a few more races next year and I have a new project at work that will maybe keep me from going and it all spiralled from there, I said things I didn't mean, he did the same. And then it was time for him to leave and we didn't get any conclusion. And he doesn't need anymore on his plate, especially something like this", you mumbled before your name was called. The doctor did what he had to do, suturing the skin, wrapping it safely and ultimately deciding to play it safe and prescribe some medication to fight off any infections as well as to promote a better healing process, also scheduling with you the days where you would come to change the bandages.
Angela drove you home after the hectic day, "thank you so much again, and I apologise for calling you like that and ruining your day", you said as she set the bag of medications on the counter, "No need for that, I'm glad I could be of help. Do you need anything else from me? Anything I can help with?", she wondered and you caved in, seeing as you were alone in the house, "can you heat me the leftovers that are in the fridge, please? I need to eat to take my medication", you said as you watched comply, bringing you the tray of food, water and meds to the bedroom where you managed to put your pyjamas on by yourself, "are you sure you don't need anything else?", Angela asked before she left after your negative answer, letting you rest as all the different medications were keeping you a bit drowsy and sleepy.
Lewis was leaving the Mercedes AMG F1 HQ with the same thoughts in his mind, how you two had handled things. How he had handled it and not let you talk it out like usual, grabbing his phone to see a text from Angela, "Y/N had to pop to the ER today and I took her. She's at home resting now, the cut on her hand should heal soon and her meds and food have been taken care of. She didn't ask me to send you this but I love you both too much to see you two like this. Whatever it is, I'm sure you can sort it out".
ER? Cut on your hand? Medications? What had happened in the span of time he was gone? Dialing Angela's number, Lewis entered the car that had brought him in the morning, greeting the driver briefly as his trainer picked up, "what happened, Angela? And why am I only finding out about this now?", he asked, the stress evident on his voice, "Y/N was making lunch and the knife slipped from her grasp, but doctor said she would be good as new soon", she explained, "I took her there because she called me. And she didn't tell you anything because... Well, I don't know why, she just said that you had a rough morning", she said, knowing that those details mattered the least to him at that moment, "Why didn't she call me? I would've gone straight home", he said as his voice tone started trailing away, realising ad he spoke that given how the morning went, he too wouldn't be calling himself after you got injured, "nevermind, thank you again. For helping Y/N today and for calling me, will speak soon!", he said before he hang up, his finger going straight to dial your number before he refrained from doing so, nor actually knowing how to approach the situation. You had and accident in the kitchen and injured yourself, and didn't think to call him or tell him about it to not bother him maybe. He had made you believe something like this was not worthy to tell him to come and help you or at least that he wouldn't want to hear about it, and that was not acceptable. Thanking his driver again, he retrieved his keys from the pocket and entered your shared home, no sign of Roscoe, who would usually greet him at the door, making him drop all his belongings on the office as he made his way into the bedroom to see you asleep on the bed, Roscoe by your feet that, sensing someone else, woke up and greeted Lewis, him leaving his spot making you move in your sleep as you turned to face your boyfriend, who didn't miss the wrapped hand as he watched you, "Hey, sorry, I didn't hear you come in", you said as you adjusted your position as best as you could, your boyfriend helping you sit up before he carefully took your injured hand in his, inspecting it, "Why didn't you tell me? I could have come to help", he said gently, not wanting to belittle you in any way, "I thought you'd be busy and, well, this morning wasn't the best either", you began, "we don't usually leave things like that. We always talk it through and, and I thought I'd just let you cool down from it all", you explained, "I'm sorry if I made you feel like you couldn't count on me, darling. We should have talked about it in the morning", he said before kissing your knuckles that were in show, "I love having you there for races, it motivates me to go harder and be better and I enjoy your company there. Yes, it upset me that you're not going to be there as much, especially this year, but I understand that you have your things too. I should have never said what I said", he gulped as you could see the guilt in his eyes, "I would love for you to join me, but I'm also so fucking proud of you, of your achievements and dedication. I'm so sorry for how I reacted", he stressed again. Smiling slightly, you cradled his face on your hand, "I'm sorry too, said things I didn't mean and they only set out to aggravate what we were doing. I'll see what I can do about it, maybe remotely I can do things too. Just, promise we'll be better at this, okay?", you said as you both nodded, Lewis opening his arms for you to rest against him, "how is this?", he pointed to your hand, "doctor said it should heal well, have the meds there too. Just a silly accident, really, I have to be careful with how I take care of it", you said before he kissed your forehead, "I'm here now, I'll take care of you".
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NSFW: Getting Artificially Bred By A Machine With A Monster’s Cum ( Breeding Trials )
Warnings - monster, rape / noncon, public sex ( doctors watching ), masturbation, lactation, degradation.
Authors note - fem reader, this series is inspired by the breeding trials series from @feral-and-or-horny.
You should’ve known there was something sketchy about this. To the anonymous mail sent towards you, to the single information you could never find after hours of dedicated research, and to the way you were immediately knocked out the moment you got into the white van. But i guess you were too curious. After all, the curiosity killed the cat.
Soon you opened your eyes to the unfamiliar room. You were trapped. Your arms and legs spread apart to each corners on the cold tray you were placed naked on. The leather restraints hurting your skins as the panic sets in. Soon you hear voices. With all the confusion and fear, you try to make out what they’re saying.
“Too bad the creature was deemed too dangerous for it to breed her directly.”
“ True, though i bet the whore would’ve loved it. I mean who comes here with just the information of a breeding experiment. What a slut”.
“Agreed. I wonder if we could have some fun with her later.”
“I hope so. I can’t wait to see how she would look like a whimpering, needing whore begging to be stuffed like the slut she is.”
The conversation was quickly followed by snickering and the sound of a large machine. You were trying to process this new information. Creature? Breed? What were they going to do to you?
You were took out of the line of thoughts as you turned your head to the two woman who were talking about you. Both had white coats, with the sentence stating they were doctors in some kind of government organisation. With one pushing a large machine that were making the same sound as before.
It was a large black cube with objects connected to it with four wheels on each corners. The machine had a large, long, smooth needle like filled with a yellowish white thick liquid. You quickly guessed it was cum. It had a black base with various buttons and handles on the opposite side of the needle. With a opening at the bottom which seemed to be closed and locked.
The woman pushing it had just placed the machine right it front of the entrance of your pussy, barely grazing your slit. You desperately tried to put some distance with no avail.
The two woman started to grab lube and one of them started apply it to the machine’s giant needle. The other one started to place gags in your mouth, and a strange machine that squeezed your nipples and breasts. With a flick, the machine on your chest started to move and stimulate your breasts. As almost trying to milk them.
Too occupied with what’s going on your breasts, you failed to recognise the other woman who was way too close to your slit, taking you by surprise when she shoves a lubed finger in you. “ Ha! You slut, you got this wet from that little stimulation on your chest?” While roughly and quickly as she thrusts more fingers into you, stretching and stuffing you. Your moans were muffled with grinding your hips against her slim fingers. “ I know you’re close, cum for mommy you dirty whore.” With her rubbing your clit’s sensitive bundles of nerves. You quickly came. The climax jolting your body as your squirted all over her fingers. As the woman quickly praises you for being a good slut, she quickly removed her fingers.
After experiencing climax, you slowly turned your head to the side. Your eyes grew wide as you saw behind the mirror was a dozen doctors and scientist writing down their notepads, observing you. Some were fingering themselves or were jerking off.
You were trying to process how all these strangers watched you cum, gasping in surprise as the woman suddenly pushed the machine’s large needle straight into your hole. Squirming and trying to accomodate such a large size as you felt you were going to be ripped apart.
The two woman left the room as they joined the group of people who were watching you.
Suddenly, “ Trial for breeding volunteer 69 with creature’s cum starting now” was spoken over the speaker.
As the needle started to pull out just when it was touching your slit, it violently thrusted back in, stuffing you. It pushed by your cervix and was stretching the top of your womb. The needle proceeded to spill the strange cum directly inside your womb, with only one shot of cum it pushed out, it completely stuffed your womb. It continued to roughly and quickly thrust and stuff you with its cum. Already by three shots, a massive puddle of cum was made under your hole.
Yet, even when it seemed to not have any more cum left. It continued to thrust inside of you. You soon realised that it was a way for you to start producing milk. As the machine on your chest started to crank up its stimulation, you were fucked out of your mind.
After an endless amount of time, the machine finally came to an end. The woman pulled the machine out of you as another one quickly plugged you as to stop from any cum leaking.
Finally, with all the stimulation came to an end. You slowly closed your eyes for your long waited sleep. Only to hear, “ start preparing for trial 2.”
#friedchickenlover01#duck…#nandoslover028#godduckcult#smut#fanfic#hornie#hornyyy#hornyramble#mommy k!nk#mommy milkers#lactating kink#breeding trials#tw noncon
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The Path of Poisons
Shrubby everlasting (part 3)
Larissa x gn! oc
the Path of Poisons masterlist . [01] . [02] . [03] . [04] . [05] . [06] . [07] . [08] . [09]
Words count : ~2.1k
Larissa Weems opened her eyes and closed them again just as quickly, blinded by the white light she saw above her. Was this heaven? She couldn't quite remember what had happened. Marilyn, a syringe, she had fallen… She had seen Wednesday above her, shaking her, and then she had seen nothing, only heard. Sounds of a struggle… Someone talking… Nothing.
A black hole.
So she was dead, eh?
A stupid death.
Her first thoughts went to her school, and to all the children and teachers who would now have to manage without her. All because of her carelessness…
She opened her eyes again slowly, letting the light reach her eyes through a small slit between her eyelids, which she opened more and more. When she got used to it, she saw white walls, a white ceiling, a white floor, and medical equipment. So she wasn't dead. She was in the hospital. She had survived. The door opened wide and several people, probably nurses and doctors, entered, probably one of the machines could detect whether she was awake or not, and it was relayed to another room.
"Mrs. Weems, welcome back," said a woman, smiling.
Still a little dazed, she said nothing.
"We've got some tests to do now that you're awake. Don't worry, nothing too serious. Do you remember what happened?"
"One of the teachers at the academy attacked me and stuck a needle in my neck."
"It was belladonna, you were very lucky to get away with it. Do you have any other memories afterwards?"
"A student leaning over me, some noises, and then nothing."
"That's normal. I'll take some blood and we'll get you some food."
Larissa nodded. The different nurses took her arm to draw some blood. The principal felt her head spin and closed her eyes.
"How long have I been here?"
"Oh, four days. You can thank the student who saved you."
"A student saved me?"
"Yes, he had the reflex to inject you with physostigmine before calling for help. Normally we don't recommend this kind of thing if you are not a doctor but it saved your life. The blood test is done, we'll bring you something to eat right away. Any special diet? No meat? No salt?"
"No, I can eat everything."
"Good."
The little team left the room, leaving her alone in her silence. Larissa let her eyes roam the room, curious. Several bouquets were there. A huge bunch of various peonies, hawthorns, and then a small bunch of marigolds and shrubby everlasting. There were also a lot of letters, which she reached for. She had tears in her eyes when she realised that they were words from the students. She who had no family left, who thought that no one cared about her anymore, felt loved. She felt like reading everything, and started with a note written on light blue paper covered with multicoloured wolf stickers, written in glittery pink ink.
"Get well soon, Mrs. Weems!
By the way, you haven't seen me I've finally wolfed out"
Followed by small hand-drawn smileys
"Enid."
She put the little card down and picked up another. Dark grey paper, black ink.
"The next time I involve you, I'll take Calabar beans with me, to counteract the poison. But in my book, you won't live again. I think it makes a better ending. And a character's death is a good development for the protagonist.
Wednesday."
Larissa wiped away a tear with a small laugh.
"You're silly…"
They entered her room, a tray of food in hand. The principal put Wednesday's card down and looked at what had been brought in. Nothing very tasty. Rice, some sort of fishy-smelling pâté, salad and compote. Well, that's that. She would have to make do with hospital food. She ate slowly, a grimace hanging on her lips. The rice was undercooked, and the fish was overcooked. Even the salad tasted bad. In the end, the only thing right was the compote.
As she had not been given any instructions against it, she stood up. She wanted to have a closer look at the bouquets. The hawthorns had a note signed by all her colleagues and Sheriff Galpin. The peony one was a personal note from Thalia Kedlan. As for the last one, the little one of marigolds and immortals, there was nothing. No words at all. She looked at him, intrigued by this gift without a sender. Who could give her immortals and marigolds? The marigolds, she understood. They were recovery flowers. But the immortals…
Their meaning was much more vague, it could mean so many things. Nevertheless, she imagined that it had to do with the fact that she was not dead. A bouquet without a name was still troubling. Maybe it was Wednesday. But she wouldn't have given him yellow flowers. Maybe Morticia, then. No, it probably wouldn't have been that kind of flower either. Her thoughts travelled back in time.
"Rissa? Is it really Gomez you like?"
"Of course it is. Who else?"
"I don't know. I just… I thought you preferred girls…"
"Ugh, what do you take me for? It's disgusting!"
Poor Ava… Larissa thought she had been stupid on this one… She should have dealt with her feelings. That was probably the biggest regret of her years as a student at Nevermore: not being able to understand that loving women was normal. She hoped Avareida was okay. She'd obviously bought her book as soon as she'd seen her name on the cover, but had never tried to contact her again. Out of shame, no doubt, and then to say what? It had been thirty years… It would have been weird to come and say "Hi Ava, I'm not sure if you remember me. I'm sorry for being a horrible homophobe and telling you all that. I'm actually a lesbian too, haha".
She sighed. Why was she thinking about her now?
Probably because she was the only person who had ever truly loved her without an ulterior motive and without betraying her. No, Larissa had betrayed her first. She began to dream that she was the bouquet.
Ava…
The memory of her friend made her smile. She wasn't tall, Ava was 8 inches shorter than her, at the time. And then she had this joy for life. She didn't care what others thought of her, Ava just did what she liked. Larissa never had that strength. Even now, everything she did was to maintain a good image for herself and the academy. Avareïda had undoubtedly become an incredible young woman…
The next day, several of her colleagues came to see her, with a bunch of daisies and a huge cake. She felt a bit ridiculous, bedridden and in a white shirt, while everyone else was well dressed. Elizabeth Kinswelt, the divination teacher, groped for the chair they had brought her, helped by Thalia Kedlan, the history teacher. There was also Jean Lafon, the French teacher, and Amil Donove, the telekinesis teacher.
Thalia took her in her arms and gave her a warm hug.
"Welcome back!"
"Welcome back! Amil and Jean rejoined at the same time."
Larissa returned his embrace.
"Are you crying, Larissa?"
"No, Jean, it's the dust."
Thalia stepped back a little, watching her principal wipe away tears.
"I wanted to tell you, Larissa," Thalia began, "we're really glad to see you alive. The Academy wouldn't be the same without you. And you are a dear friend to our hearts."
"Stop it or I'll really cry."
"Aha, okay."
Amil put the bouquet next to the others.
"By the way, do you know who gave me these marigolds and everlastings? There's no word to go with it."
Thalia smiled at Larissa.
"A friend of mine who has just moved to the area. We met the day before yesterday morning, and as I had to come and see you, they came with me. They bought you this because they felt bad about coming without anything."
"Oh… will you thank them for me?"
"Of course I will."
"I heard that many students came to see you?" Amil asked
"Yes, I received dozens of notes. I didn't know they liked me so much."
Elizabeth, who had been silent until then, spoke up. Larissa liked her voice, always very calm. Her completely white eyes, her hair pulled back in a tight bun, gave her a gentle, wise look that the principal had always liked.
"Larissa, expect many people to tell you how much they love you."
"Is that a prophecy, Mrs Kinswelt?"
"No, Mrs Weems. I know this phenomenon. I almost died myself a long time ago."
"But it sounded like a prophecy."
"Come on, you know I don't share my prophecies. Especially not to the people most affected."
"Does that mean that you have seen things?"
"Interpret it as you wish…"
Thalia opened the box in which there was a red cake with some raspberries on top.
"It was Jean who baked this for you!"
"All this for me? Isn't it better to share it?"
"That was the idea," Jean smiled.
The car was driving along the main road. A storm was brewing and the first drops were falling on the roof.
"Elizabeth?"
Elizabeth lifted her head from the glass. If she wasn't completely blind, you'd think she was absorbed in the scenery that was passing before her eyes on the way to her girlfriend's house.
"Yes, Dear?"
"Did you see anything about Mrs Weems?"
"Yes, I did."
There was silence in the car for a few moments.
"Do you want to tell me about it?"
"I saw your friend. And Mrs Weems."
"Tell me more."
"You know I don't want to turn my visions into self-fulfilling prophecies."
"Come on, I won't tell them. Will you please tell me?"
"What are you offering me in exchange for this information?"
Thalia smiled, without taking her eyes off the road.
"There's not much I can do right now, but as soon as we get to my place, I'm yours."
"I saw them kissing."
"Whaaat?"
"It can mean nothing, too. It was just a kiss. Promise me you won't say anything to them or try to push them together."
"It's going to be hard, but I promise."
"Thank you, Thalia. Let them live their lives, so you won't be disappointed with the outcome."
Elizabeth rested her head against the glass. And then she saw light. A new vision was coming.
She was in the greenhouse of Nevermore. She knew it, though she had never seen it. It smelled the same as when she had gone there. On the floor was Mrs. Weems, lying there, staring into space. Elizabeth ran towards her as the door opened. She saw someone enter. Black hair slicked back, as if it were wet. All black eyes, dressed in brown. She knew it was Rei. They stopped above Mrs Weems and crouched down. Mrs Kinswelt saw the intruder check her breathing and heart before taking something from their jacket and injecting it into Larissa's neck. Then they got up and quietly went to the back of the greenhouse to steal the manchineel tree.
Then everything disappeared.
"Thalia?"
"Yes?"
"Your friend, when did they arrive again?"
"I don't know exactly. They told me it was four days ago at night. Actually, a little after the events at Nevermore. What was that for?"
"No reason."
She knew what she saw. They were the one who saved Mrs Weems. So why hide it? Because of the manchineel thing?
#gwendoline christie#larissa x reader#larissa weems x reader#principal larissa weems#larissa weems#principal weems x reader#principal weems#larissa x oc
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The first Doctor Who novelization was Doctor Who in an Exciting Adventure with the Daleks. It featured a Glass Dalek leader that was not in the original serial:
He was resting on a kind of dais and his casing was totally made of glass. Inside, I could see the same sort of repulsive creature that the Doctor and I had taken out of the machine and wrapped in the cloak. The Dalek looked totally evil, sitting on a tiny seat with two squat legs not quite reaching the floor. The head was large, and I shuddered at the inhuman bumps where the ears and nose would normally be and the ghastly slit for a mouth. One shrivelled little arm moved about restlessly and the dark-green skin glistened with the same oily substance that had revolted me before.
As this novelization has had many editions, we are blessed with multiple different artists' takes on the Glass Dalek:
1965 edition by Peter Archer
1980 edition by Michiaki Sato
2005 illustration by Roger Langridge (DWM 354)
2022 edition by Robert Hack
#doctor who#1st doctor#first doctor#daleks#the daleks#glass dalek#doctor who and the daleks#target books#ian chesterton
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32 + makkinen. From Weirdly specific drabble prompts 2
Blood. Just as Blue. Gushing from Mika’s nose. Soaking into the thick material of his silver race suit. Michael stumbled back. His back hit the door handle. Mika fumbled for the tissue box, resting on the coffee table, dropping the shard of glass he’d used to slit open his palm.
Now it made sense. Why he wore the same race suit, had worn the same race suit every time Michael saw him. Why it remained pristine, free of visible sweat stains in the car. His blinding speed- his machine-like consistency- Mika was an android. An Android. “You-“ Michael stuttered. “You-“
*Fuck.* He looked so human! The way his chest heaved, the tiny flicking motions of his eyeballs as they darted around the room- his pupils even dilated when he stepped into the light. Even the slight delay each time his fingers failed to grasp the delicate paper- like a human fumbling, stunned.
Mika slicing open his palm with one smooth motion. Thirium dribbling out. “I’m a Deviant, Mike.”
Mika turned to him. The blood- no, thirium- already soaking through the thin barrier of the tissue. “Please Michael.” He said, voice thick and clogged. “Please, I- we can just- nothing’s changed. I- I’ll just- visit a mechanic, patch this leak up.”
Michael laughed. A hollow sound, echoing from inside his chest like a cave.. He made it sound like going to a doctor. So simple, so straightforward. So Mika. It makes his chest ache all the more. “How? You can’t intend to walk through the paddock like- like this.”
#makkinen#f1blr#michael schumacher#mika hakkinen#f1rpf#f1 fanfic#f1 rpf#angst#detroit become human#D:BH AU#classic f1
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The ship shook violently, as I suddenly became aware of the searing pain across my chest, a headache soon filled my mind as it went into overdrive and then. Calm. As I always did, I checked my body. Nothing broken, just a couple of ribs. Blood streamed down my ears, as I quickly figured what happened.
We'd been hit, a laser striking the side of the vessel causing it to crash... The sound of wind whistling its way down the halls, we had 32 crew. 9 humans including myself in that 32...
A hand reached for a needle, with pins coursing through her body as it began to freeze up. Pushing past the function, she stabbed herself with the EpiPen.
Blood flushed through her system, as everything ran into overdrive. Heart pounding, she forced herself to slow down as she staggered her way down the hall. Gripping her diaphragm as she leaned into a door with her bag of drugs.
Sam lay on the bed, frozen as he processed what just happened. Then pain in his leg, as a bag was thrown into him.
"oi. Dick sucker, go wake up the others. I'm gonna. Fucking. I'm gonna go close the fucking hole." He barely managed to mumble his thanks as she walked out.
BZZT. BZZZT. BZZT.
Her sister called her stupid. Bringing a bag of EpiPens, a small fusion reactor and some bits and bobs of tech. Wearing a face mask, she fused the metal together, every so often swearing as she walked up and down covering the holes with spare doors, plates, panels. Anything that wouldn't let out oxygen when they got off the ground. Which would probably take weeks, then something caught her ear.
Something coughed, tall and lanky with a dark deer complexion, the engineer of the ship swore as he dragged himself towards the engine room.
"Uhh. What?"
"engine. Explode. Gotta. Off."
The man thing lost his strength, legs probably broken I shrugged and opened the door.
I dragged the deer man into the med bay, dragging the delirious doctor with me as I threw him into a pod. Bacta tanks, suspend the person and healing liquid helps relax the body speeding up healing. Shoving a strawberry into his mouth, the girl woke up. Spitting the strawberry like a pepper, because that's what it was in her biology.
"GAH. WHAT?" She turned to look at me, as I burped.
"I'm going into a tank. You need to turn it on before the adrenaline wears off. Ok?" I helped myself into the tank, as everything went dark.
The shadow realm. A place of darkness and evil, a well of black magic. Figures move around me as I stand over Tartarus. The deepest part of the pit, linked up to here and comes to what can only be described as a pit of tar. Tying my hair back, slitting my wrists I dive down.
"MOTHER FUCKER." I shouted in reflex, spitting out phlegm as the captain looks at me.
"... What?"
"we crashed."
"I mean. Yeah."
"but we're not dead."
"That can happen."
"... And our communicators are out."
The orc like woman took a seat. Probably having a breakdown. The slime nurse woman looked at me.
"she's uh. Been doing that for a while now."
"how many people injured right now?"
"like lethal? Uhhh. 1, but they're. Well."
He closed the tube, turning the machine on.
BOOM
I flinched, reaching for my knife as he paused.
"oh right. We need the engine for power but we. Uh. Couldn't do it without breaking it, so..."
"... I get it. But damn."
I turned to the captain, her head in hands as she appeared to be breaking down.
"so. I'm just gonna..."
I reached forward, taking her card.
I wandered the ship, soon finding a group appearing unsure what to do.
"Good morning."
"... Ah. Human Eleanor..."
He trailed off, the goblin like alien losing his train of thought as I looked around.
"Alright. Fuck this. Warg. Hey. WARG."
The goblin snapped to attention.
"yes?"
"Can you clean up the halls?"
"i- the ship."
"WARG. Stop thinking, clean the halls. We can't have more accidents, so make sure we can walk through the halls without getting hurt."
The goblin hesitated, pausing as he nodded.
"clean the halls."
"RI-RI HEY. YO. YOU AWAKE?"
I jostled the chef awake, the squid cousin to Dina the doctor snapping awake.
"uh- what?"
"how much food we got?"
"I- err."
"how long can we last with the food and water we have?"
"umm. Eight months? But-"
"ok. And if we ration it?"
"... Half a year?"
"great. Can you preserve what we have, make it last longer and organise the kitchen?"
"but-"
"Stop thinking about it, your job now is preserve and organise ok?"
I met Sam and John, the pair arguing as they always did.
"OI. DICK SUCKERS. GET OUT THE SHIP, RUN ANALYSIS AND FORM A PERIMETER AROUND US. BUILD A CAMPSITE!"
The gays looked at me, each other before shrugging and moving off.
It took three hours, three hours of organising and sending people to do things, at some point I'd handed out radios for people to call where they where, who they were and whatever they wanted to say. Most of the aliens were in a daze, with the other seven humans either trying to figure something out or arguing on what to do.
"Anthony. Find Wargo and figure out how to fix this ship. Liam, quit your bitching and go make a farm or something. Pashi, go with Tina and get everyone in the right headspace. Here's a radio, get them into the cafeteria. Saw, go out and help John and Sam. Onion, come with me to the cafeteria."
The others broke off, as the captain began gaining her senses.
"the ship-
"Shut up. We're going to the cafeteria."
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Hi guys I am going through sometjing RN so I thought I'd use my break at work to type out medic angst with my personal hcs woaowoaowa
Huge tw for the everything basicallt
Also tw for first person lol
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I am old. Each year I age and grow and change and I am old. There isn't any comfort in that, but it's hard to find any nowadays. I don't take to things like I did as a boy. Even with the new resources I have, I am old. Cutting down the skin of a man and splitting open whatever's inside him had started to leave me empty and bored. I've defied death, created machines to heal others of fatal wounds in an instant, invented immortality even if for a small duration, and it has given me nothing but a yearning for-
For..
Nothing.
For nothing.
I've accomplished it all. Done every feat doctors and medical professionals have beaten their lives for, and yet I have no celebration. I sit in my sterile office, on my uncomfortable chair, and stare at this form on my desk lengthening my employment. Even my coworkers give me no more than living entities to accompany my melancholy. And all I do as I stay here is get older. There's nothing left for me. God, I wish there was.
My thoughts wandered far, far from my accomplishments. No matter how I anchor them. It drifts. My eyes wander, too. They rest on the silver tray I have a lengths way from my desk. I kick the corner of it, full of floor-level marks in an odd streak. They resemble tally marks, six in total, all etched in dried fluid. It'd been too long, too many weeks for me to recall what for. On the surface is various tools I've used through my wretched career. Still probably clean from when I last polished them. Not probably; definitely. It's all I can do. Before my body and mind communicate it's already put me out, and back in the chair. The only thing that changes is the silver tool now in my palm. Scalpel. Yet my thumb pressed on it slightly too hard; tense arthritis is my one ail. A trickle of blood brings warmth to my hand and the silver handle, now coated in red. It's a hive, and the swarm of vermin that follows is natural.
It's not as if I haven't seen my own blood before. I usually wipe it, cleanse it, more often than not leave it to dry. The difference now is what comfort is brings me. I've played God so long that being reminded of my mortality has nearly set adrenaline through me too fast. My lungs pause their usual track before continuing the laborious activity. A small droplet sinks between the meticulously crafted oak paper below me and stain a word I was writing. An ugly thing blotting up my paper and driving me to pull back and out a paste to cover the mistake and keep writing. My body doesn't budge. I've forgotten I can bleed. I've forgotten I am not immortal. I press into the edge again.
Another slit. Yet more falls down my thumb. Instead of a stinging sensation of air hitting the receptors in my skin, I feel an overwhelming sense of joy. My body pumps itself out of the seat and to the desk itself while I stand hunched over. My untarnished thumb retracts the cuff of my sleeve and brings to light the pale flesh I hide under layers of professionalism. I can see blue and purple lines so faintly through them, pushing on their cages every time my fingers curl. I could hear them. They were suffocating while I watched and put all my focus into the dull throb they released in pain of claustrophobic masses. Hundreds of them; veins. Desperately wanting to be shown the world and I wielded the exit. It didn't take but a moment for me to unlock it, twisting in the key until the prongs fell into place, turning, and yanking it back out again. It jammed. I repeated the process thrice on the different locks of my mortal vessel until finally I withdrew. Their screams were of joy, and I was immediately rewarded with a blissful pleasure that hardly allowed me sense to stand.
Of course, my limb was coated with the slick and foul liquid that had drowned my unwilling captors. It slid out of the exits and down into clusters that dropped on the desk and scrawled away in feverish escape. The paper was nearly coated, now. Ink replaced for crimson and sometimes clotted so close it appeared black. I could only bite down on the inside of my cheek as I beheld my damage. Three- no, four- large gashes that no longer had blue visible. Yet still, the pulsating plead for release filled me deeper than lust for an untampered body devoid of scars. I attempted to put my freeing tool more and more within me, seeing white gifts spot my vision as my eyes tilted back to behold the ceiling fluorescents like angels. The euphoria was halted almost instantly as I realized I was unable to go further into the lock. Through squinting I could make out a thick white layer below the red, and under that an even sea of solid mass my scalpel couldn't sear through. My own bone. It shone gorgeously in the room. A gem hidden away in a tower that took perseverance and understanding to climb. It shone brilliantly. I nearly welcomed it as a friend before noticing it was merely a fragment. Loneliness is the death of man, I'd be no better than a tyrant if I forced him alone.
So further I worked to peel back the layers on my arm that read white. Eventually, I had accumulated so much shredded flesh on the desk it appeared like a normal surgery. Cutting back bit by bit rendered my arm suddenly useless. Hardly could I raise it above my waist anymore. And so it was; residing like a sleeping prince and pouring out waterfalls of life each passing second. Guilt consumed me at the sight of that lonesome bone, even if revealed. It's two-hundred brothers still begged unveiled beauty. Not a time to let rest take over. Instead, it was back to slashing and inserting, twisting and squelching up my side. The fabric of one of my favorite button-up shirts was no doubt long gone to these fruitful messes. There was a issue when it came to my sides. Through years of core strength in lifting men, gear, and other objects around there was a large barrier of muscle. It'd take toiling I had no patience for. The ribs could wait. It was truly my spine aching release. Not aided with a mirror nor flexibility, it was certainly wise for me to begin where it was most prominent and accessible. I tilted my head down in a mockery of prayer and found my way easily until the back of my neck had vertebrae poking through the mesh. A matter of seconds passed before the thin layers were able to reveal the bumps and grooves. It brought unbridled sensations down to me. I clung to that high, ripping away all I could and following the skin's path until a hasty move made my limbs render weak and useless. I felt everything spin and heard the resounding crack of my skull on the office floor. I never came to, as I hadn't passed out. Instead I was almost paralyzed in this state. I heard a faint drip and couldn't locate the source with my eyes. It took another two minutes for me to realize I was dying. A path of fatty tissue had falsely lead me to slitting out the front of my throat, causing my breathing laboured through blood and instead of my mouth, instead travelling out the crack. I was horrified and appalled at myself. My planning was so hasty, so unwise, that I led myself to death before getting to experience more of my precious body and its ability to be mauled by my own motivation. I'd remember next time the neck stays last. Everything was suddenly getting all too quiet for me. I raised my finger, dipping it in my excess fluids and deeply swiping it on the bottom wall of my desk. A tally of seven times by now that I've ended up dead at my own hands. Such is the way of suicide. After being robbed of death, it becomes a mercy. Most methods are unconventional, sloppy, and boring. Bullets don't give you time, hangings don't give you pleasure, and overdose hardly lets you feel at all. By the time I walk out of the doors to respawn, I'll have forgotten. I'll forget the love and darling sensation that is agony and killing yourself to revel in the beauty. It was far too late for me to write it down for reference; I undoubtedly had less than ten seconds left. The first time I died, I felt a cradle of my mother hold my head tenderly and comfort me. God took her away the third time I didn't learn my lesson that this game I play with myself was a mockery of his gift of temporary joys of Earth. Damn that bastard for being right. I'd prove his creation wrong once more the next time around.
As for right now, my lungs have stopped. My heart quit beating twelve seconds ago. My hearing is the last to fade in the gorey scene, but my own gasping and dripping wound excrements are a lullaby I hold dearer than most.
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Halloween ends review
I'm gonna start doing reviews for movies sometimes if I can collect my thoughts on them well enough. Spoilers are under the cut but overall the movie is a 6/10 as a Halloween movie and a 7/10 as a movie in general.
My biggest problem with it is how little Michael is in the movie. I came to see Halloween and I wanted to get my 60 year old maybe demon man who kills people violently. But Corey was a fun character too. I really felt bad for him because I know how it feels to cause a major accident and have people believe you're like a Satan worshiping baby murderer.
It's also interesting to explore the theme Laurie talks about how evil doesn't leave it takes a different form. Which ties into my belief that bigotry doesn't leave it just evolves but that's not really tied into anything about this movie. Michael sparring Corey also adds a dimention to him that the OG Michael never got. Unlike with RZ Michael we never get to see what lead up to him killing his sister and we can infer that Loomis wasn't the best doctor for Michael but we all we've seen him as is some murder machine who kills almost anyone he comes across.
But with him sparring Corey and even helping him kill people it brings in some interesting questions. Why would Michael spare Corey? Did he spare him because he know he was growing old and he wanted someone to carry on being him? Did gain some kind of respect for Corey when he escaped and killed that homeless man. It was also interesting to see how Corey's mask when he did his first kill under Michael's wing was similar to the clown mask Michael wore when he killed his sister. It just brings more dimention to Michael which I wish we got to see more of because like I said he was in the movie for like 15 minutes all together and five of those minutes was him dying basically.
Which brings me to the gore. Halloween ends isn't a super gorey film. Yes it has more gore than the original Halloween but it's not like Rob Zombies Halloween. It's mostly bloody but the best gore is with the killing of the radio dj and Michael's own death. Speaking of Michael's death they went above and beyond with it. I thought Jason's death in Friday part four was graphic well Michael's just takes the cake. Like it's bordering on ridiculous how much effort they put into killing him. I think the hammering knives into his hands and slitting his throat would have been enough but like slitting his wrists then throwing him in a industrial metal chipper was something else man. But it's a legandary way to go for one of the OG slashers.
The fight scenes were also great in my opinion. Laurie still has that fight left in her from the other movies and I think the stunt actors did a great job with the fighting.
Onto other characters. Allyson wasn't the best kinda character. I thought she was kinda a sterotypical bland final girl with a bit more dimention than other girls in other slasher movies. Her actress was good in the movie, it's not the acting that's bad it's more just like how they wrote her.
Jamie was amazing as Laurie. I'm glad to see her finally not living in fear of Michael. We never really get to see final girls decades after their encounters with slashers and it's interesting to see her growth over the movies from living in complete fear and her life kind of revolving around Michael to her healing and growing as a person. She knows Michael is still out there but her fear doesn't rule her anymore and I love that for her. She's a great part of the movie and honestly makes me like the movie more. Like I said earlier she still has that survival training in her and she's still a smart woman so her faking killing herself was smart and in character.
Again to talk about Corey you can see from the start that he has the potential to become someone like Michael after the kids death. His first two kills were either an accident or in self defense. But we can see his obsessive nature and Michael's influance grow on him throughout the movie. We get good modivation for his kills. Officer Mulany was being an asshole to Allyson who Corey is established to be interested in. He killed the doctor and nurse who was rude to him and Allyson again and with the teens who have constantly messed with him throughout the movie. Also with his verbally and emotionally abusive mother.
Just some thoughts I have about the movie.
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I wonder what life is going to be like for Kelvin, Virginia, and Duke when they get home.
How is the world going to react to someone with 6 fully functional limbs? Is Virginia going to be happy? at lest she wont be alone though
Would Kelvin still live with Duke? I like to think Duke becomes so attached to Kelvin that they just become room mates. I've heard a lot of people say near death experiences bring humans closer together. Kelvin gets his own room and everything but he chooses to keep sneaking into Duke and Virginia’s room
Kelvin is taken to the hospital right away. The doctors want to run an MRI to get a better idea of the damage done. Kelvin is wearing that weird hospital gown with the slit in the back. He didn’t tie it tight enough so his butt cheeks are just on full display and he doesn't give a fuck. They send him through the MRI and he just falls asleep in there. After exposing his booty to all the nurses and doctors and falling asleep in the machine he proceeds to eat all the doctors candy, fall over once, and trip over his own feet leaving. Pull your shit together Kelvin
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Tea and Tumult
This is a small Arcane (CaitVi) drabble I wrote for a Discord I belong to. I hope you enjoy it.
It was that time of year again. The time Vi could not stand but being the good girlfriend she was, she just grinned and bared it.
Caitlyn was hosting, on behalf of her mother, her annual high-end tea party for the elite up-and-comers. Every twenty-something snobby person Vi had ever met was on the guest list. Caitlyn, wearing her Louis Vuitton dark blue, tailored suit, greeted each of them with her usual courtesy as she had been trained to do by both her parents.
All the fashionable, beautiful people were sipping tea and eating fabulous desserts made by the kitchen staff. A handful of servers, wearing white jackets and white gloves, had been hired to keep the food and refreshments flowing.
Vi knew she shouldn’t be sulking but she couldn’t help herself. This was a Piltover party and nothing like she had been accustomed to from her years in Zaun and certainly not from when she was in prison. She stood in the corner wearing a fake smile and her Sunday best. Vi was trying to fade into the brocade covering that adorned the walls of the salon in the family mansion. The scale of the hypocrisy in this room is amazing. Most of these people would slit their best friend’s throat if it moved them up the social ladder she thought to herself.
At that moment Caitlyn elegantly made her way across the room to Vi while balancing her teacup and a piece of cake. She gently kissed Vi on the cheek to the amazement of some of the other guests and said, “You should try this dessert. It’s delicious.”
“Shouldn’t you be eating a cupcake instead?” Vi replied with a wink. “You know all these people don’t want me here. It’s just another example of oil and water.”
“Vi, these people are only here to ingratiate themselves with my family and more specifically with my mom because of her council membership. They are all trying to get to her through me. This sickens me too but I can’t say no to my mom. Just grab some tea and get yourself some food. It’s only one afternoon.”
Vi nodded and made her way over to the smorgasbord of pastries and confections. She was waiting patiently when she overheard two men speaking. “The Kirammans are all so pretentious. They wouldn’t be in the ruling class or have any pull at all if not for the rigged election of the mother. Everyone knows the voting machines were tampered with. It’s an outrage.”
Vi blanched. She couldn’t believe what she had just heard.
The second man responded, “I mean really, the father actually has a job. A doctor, no less. Not a fit profession at all. Cassandra definitely wears the pants in that family. And the daughter. Everyone knows she can shoot. I’ve seen it myself at the last competition but I hear she slept her way into the police force. God knows why anyone would be interested in spending time in the undercity. Having to deal with low life and scum all the time. It makes me shake my head.”
Vi couldn’t take it anymore. She clenched her fists and then took a deep breath. She was trembling. “Hey jackoffs!! What did you just say?”
The first man’s eyes went wide then a smirk appeared on his face, “I said, this seven-layer cake only has six layers, I counted.” The second man was about to speak when Vi punched the first man directly on the chin. He was unconscious before he hit the floor. The second man walked away feeling very relieved and lucky.
Vi leaned down and felt the first man’s pulse.
“Violet!! What the hell are you doing?” Caitlyn yelled crossing the room.
“This jerk,” she pointed at the comatose man on the floor, “and his buddy insulted your family and insulted you. I couldn’t take it so he got what he deserved. At least, I checked to make sure he was still alive. I’m leaving now.” With that Vi planted a fiery kiss on Caitlyn’s lips, gave everyone else in the room the finger and walked straight out the front door.
The prompts were FASHIONABLE, SCALE. BALANCE and the sentences were "I checked to make sure he was still alive." The seven-layer cake only had six layers.
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SPARK IN THE NIGHT. ( 2 ) [001/F!Reader]
A/N: So believe it or not, this was originally a stand-alone idea and I didn’t intend to carry it on. However, thanks to the support this fic has received, both here and on A03, I feel compelled to continue it! This will not be a perfectly cohesive story, more like snapshots/specific moments in time between 001 and our little firestarter, but they will be chronological and you can tie a story together based on said moments. I just don’t have the spoons to write a fully fledged novel at the moment, unfortunately. Anyway, thank you so much for reading, it means the most, and Imma stop waffling now.
001 requests, SFW and NSFW, are OPEN!
Summary: 001 visits you in the infirmary. Predictably, things are not as they seem.
Words: 1.3k
Warnings: N/A.
Like my work? TIP ME!
Three days.
That’s how long you’ve been asleep since that unexpected turn of events.
When you awaken, it’s to two nurses and a concerned Brenner, a multitude of different wires attached to various parts of your body, machines beeping around you. You make a soft noise as your 'benefactor' places his knuckles on your forehead, seemingly checking your temperature.
“Good,” he says, more to himself than to you. “Your fever’s broken.”
“Fever…?”
Dr. Brenner presses his hand flat against your forehead, and your questions promptly vanish. All you can focus on is the relief that his cool hand provides - even if, in any other context, you’d flinch away. This man has taken so much from you, stolen all of the progress you’d fought to make in the cripplingly unfair realm of adulthood within a single night. Not that you can recall any of the details in any meaningful capacity. You just know that you hate him; that you’ll never forgive him.
Think about all he’s taken from you. What he’s extracted from you.
His hand soothes.
“Now, 019. What do you remember about your lesson three days ago?”
“I… that was three days ago…?” Your brow furrows deeply, eyes becoming thin, uncertain slits. You remember being upset. You remember talking to Peter. You remember an all-encompassing heat… and then nothing concrete. Black spots; vertigo so sudden and intense that the floor had felt like the ceiling; then waking up in this room. “... I don’t know,” you admit, your lower lip quivering with fear. The longer you stay here, the more pieces of yourself that you lose. He’s draining your memory dry. Soon enough, you’ll be nothing but an empty vessel. The perfect patient, mindless and vacant. That thought’s enough to have you throwing your bed sheet aside, though you don’t get far before the doctors swarm your bedside and push you gently back into place.
“It’s alright. You’re not in any trouble,” Brenner says calmly, his palm still pushed against your forehead. The pressure behind it has increased, keeping your head firmly against the pillow. He may be older, but his joints certainly aren’t failing him yet. “You simply pushed yourself too hard. Exhausted yourself.”
You stare up at him helplessly. You can’t put your finger on what it is, but something isn’t right. Your memory is coming back blank, save for a terrible heat, but you get the feeling that he isn’t telling you the whole truth. While you can’t say that you’ve never passed out from using your powers before, this time was different. It was a heavier sleep — the kind that can only be achieved by a mind that's been forced to shut down. You’ve never had that happen before.
“No… no, I… I did something…”
“Yes, you did.” He smiles ever so slightly. The awkward quirk of his mouth, the one that he hesitates to show anybody, annoys you greatly. “You demonstrated an extraordinary power. But you used too much of your energy, and wound yourself up in the infirmary. You must be careful not to over-exert yourself like that in future, 019.”
Part of you wants to protest further, but you’re growing tired again. Your eyelids flutter before they fall closed, and the sound of shuffling feet is like music to your ears.
“Rest more,” Dr. Brenner suggests, withdrawing his hand as he stands up. “You need it.”
Despite your attempts to stay awake, to really concentrate on what truly transpired before your impromptu doctor’s visit, you feel yourself quickly succumb to sleep once more.
“Good afternoon, sleepyhead.”
The gentle voice prompts you to open your eyes. His image is hazy, but you'd know that fluffy golden halo anywhere.
"Peter…?"
You attempt to sit up, though his hand on your shoulder makes you lay back down. You're feeling a little less confused now, as if you can actually stay awake for a while.
"Shh. Don't try to get up."
He's alone, which you find odd. Not even the doctors are present. It's then that you become aware of the freedom in your limbs. No more needle in the back of your hand. No more beeping monitors. Just Peter and his patient smile.
"How are you feeling?"
"Pretty lousy," you say with a wince, imagining that you don't look your best right now. "Tired. Like, really tired. Like someone sucked out my brain through a straw."
He offers you a pitying tilt of his head before he draws his seat close to the edge of your bed.
"Is that all?"
"Well, I…" You think about it, wondering if you're missing something obvious. "... yeah. I mean, isn't being dead to the world for three days a problem?"
"Five days."
Your mouth falls open in disbelief. "Five days?!"
"Five days," Peter confirms with a sober nod. “You went back to sleep.”
Now you’re getting nervous. You feel it in your head first; a blooming ache between your eyes, one that trails down and weighs heavily on your chest. With great effort, you attempt to cast your mind back to that training session with Peter. All you wind up with is a blank slate. The harder you try, the more resistance you meet, until your head really starts to hurt.
You must look scared, because the next thing he does is glance upwards, casting the camera in the corner a cursory look before patting your hand gently.
“We need to talk.”
“Okay?”
“Not here.” The intensity in his eyes takes you back to a moment you shared five days ago, though it shows itself in little more than a blinding flash of blue. Then, the feeling is gone. “It’s not safe here.”
Unease creases your brow, though the look in his eye tells you not to ask any more questions. You’d hate to put yourself in further danger. You’re already compromised, slow and drained even if you are feeling a lot better than you were when you first woke up. The last thing you need is unnecessary stress.
Peter reaches down beside his chair leg and retrieves a white plastic cup full of water, offering it to you slowly. You ease yourself into a halfway comfortable sitting position before accepting it. It takes approximately one millisecond to realise how thirsty you are, swallowing the entire thing in a few staggered gulps.
“Can I have more?” you croak pathetically, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.
Peter nods, rising from his seat.
“Tomorrow,” he whispers, meeting your eyes with a distinct urgency. “You’re going to be back on schedule tomorrow. We’ll talk properly then.” He straightens up, flashing you his usual pleasant smile as he returns to his regular volume: “I’ll come back with water and a doctor. Rest in the meantime.”
You want to ask him what the hell he’s talking about — and why he insists on speaking only half of the truth. The cameras have never really been a problem before. The only thing you can think of is that it concerns Brenner himself — and after everything you’ve been through since arriving at Hawkins Lab, you don’t think that’s too far out of the ball park whatsoever.
With a deep sense of anxiety, you lean back into the pillow and await Peter’s return.
Rest up. Tomorrow's going to take it out of you.
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A X S Q R P :)
A: Your current OTP.
humphrey/sophie 💞 i just really love them
P: Invent a random AU for any fandom (we always need more ideas).
this is not At All random (i have been thinking on it for far too long), but - the edge chronicles + bbc ghosts, anyone? the vaguer details include: the captain grew up wanting to be a sky pirate, but stone sickness destroyed those dreams, and so he ended up naming himself the captain because he would never get the chance to have a true sky pirate name, and joined the freeglade lancers in the end; kitty put down a plot by her sister to turn phrax machines into destructive weapons; thomas ran away from the eastern woods and was hunted across the edge by his cousin, who had contacts all over the edge, until he finally reached safety in riverrise. the more specific subplot is that humphrey (a true first age of flight sky pirate) is a very dashing and mostly competent sky pirate, with an earth librarian stowaway on his ship. he thinks nothing of sophie until she holds a knife to his throat and threatens to slit it if he doesn't turn around the ship. they crash in the twilight woods, and have no choice but to bond (it's that or go insane forever). they escape, but neither of them are ever the same afterwards, and end up hiding away in undertown so that the plot sophie tried to enact to bring down sanctaphrax's sky scholars doesn't get them both killed
Q: A ship you’ve abandoned and why.
maiko. not into atla anymore.
R: A pairing you ship that you don’t think anyone else ships.
there's always someone out there with the same obscure pairing, but probably pat/humphrey/sophie. this isn't concrete idea i have so much as it is my vision of a modern au where pat, aware that humphrey's lonely (and pining), sets him up with sophie, stupidly failing to realise that it's him humphrey is pining over. and also sophie, once they've met. it all works out in the end, though. alternatively: it's the unwritten sequel to my pat-centric modern au where humphrey invites pat over to stay with him for a bit, and then both he and sophie (who are married) seduce pat. pat has two hands and both of them are depressed
S: What’s a headcanon you have?
various inhabitants of button house kept diaries, and for the most part those diaries ended up in button house's library. the library was one of thomas's favourite parts of the house in life (his other favourite part was isabelle, and that's... it, that's all he liked about it), and he used to flick through those records of the past and wonder what those people were like. the answer? fucking annoying, that's what
X: 3 OTPs from 3 different fandoms.
henry/becket (from becket (1964), obviously, not from real life), the doctor/romana (doctor who), and linius pallitax/wind jackal (the edge chronicles)
(link)
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striking hot iron
( Ruse POV of Cold Iron after so long! AHHH. @hallowed-nebulae )
I am not sitting in a chair. Not in a medical room. Not here, in Radiant Garden’s castle, all whole and unbroken and lacking the shadows it should have.
Should have, would have. This is the past and everything is supposed to be like this, even with another person interfering in ‘canon.’ It’s...weird. That’s all. Weird and strange that everything looks like this, so much brighter and how I don’t have to worry about getting ambushed by Heartless if I wander out too far.
This world is...well, not safe. Nowhere’s perfectly safe, especially not a world that’s also different from the one I know in ways I can’t predict. But safer, that’s possible.
There’s an Even here and I flinched when I saw him. Stupid of me, I know. He’s not the same as the Vexen in my home world. Hasn’t made a million choices to tear people apart for science. But my body still reacts as if he is.
Stupid body. So dumb. I hate it. That, and the thing I have about fire now. Really annoying. You know, I used to like fire? No one can tell now, by the way my entire body freaks out at the sight of even a spark. Gross.
Gotta convince Xion that I’m okay, though. That I don’t need to see any doctors here or anything like that. No need to add more trauma, amiright?
“I’m fine, Xion.”
“No you’re not, Ruse! You’re hurting and the machines here aren’t broken. You need this checkup.” If there was a table to slam her hands down on, I betcha Xion would be doing that.
“I don’t need anything! I’m not broken, I’m fine!”
(I have to be.)
“You’re not fine!” Her voice breaks on the last word, and she withdraws into herself. Wrapping her arms around her shoulders, eyes full of...tears. No no no. She can’t be crying! No no!
I wave my hands frantically at her. She just cries harder, a soundless broken thing, until I lower my hands in defeat. Looks like there’s only one way to fix this.
I sigh. “...fine.”
Xion cheers up so quickly at my acquiesce, I half-wonder if she was faking the emotions. I know for a fact she wasn’t, but...still. Fast turnaround.
Barely resist slamming the door as I walk out on her. Time for the dumb check-up. As soon as possible. Get this done.
People sitting outside and waiting. Ven and Vanitas and...
Oh. Terra’s here. Look, I know rationally that he’s not the Terra I’ve met before, anymore than the Even of this worldline is the same Vexen. My feelings always say differently. Because in part, he’s the same as the other Terra, isn’t he?
He’s always the type to refuse to fight someone because they look like a kid, ignorant of what worse fate he dooms his opponent to as he has the audacity to win anyway. A reminder of how weak I really am, compared to any Keyblade wielder.
But don’t take it out on him. Don’t you dare do that. Calm.
He knows that I don’t like enough already. No need to make it worse. No need to show my dislike for everyone to see.
Stick to business.
“I’m not going to get a checkup unless your Vexen does it.” The man is the best at what he does, after all. I want the best if only to get this done as fast as possible. To assure Xion that it’s been done correctly too.
Terra quite visibly hesitates before he speaks. Nervous about setting me off, probably. Part of me inwardly preens at the thought of being a threat to Terra. The rest of me is ashamed of losing control so easily that the man thinks he has to watch his words around me.
“I thought you didn’t like Even? I can ask and see that that gets done.”
I smile. Cold and a slit across my face. A snake’s close-mouthed smile. “I’d rather keep my interactions to people I at least somewhat know.”
No need to bring in more people to freak me out. I’m still embarrassed about what happened with Marluxia and Axel earlier, though I’ll never tell these people that. Nah, best to keep that shame to myself.
Pale thin hands reach out. Ven, gesturing for my own hands. I give them to him. His hands feel cold to touch, wrapped around my fingers and palms. Not as cold as the ice I wield, but cold enough. Ven is a he/it/them all at the once at the touch, and the memories come.
I get-
I get-
Cold rooms that shake with fear and pain. Every so often (more often than not), there are whimpers and wails. Screams of hurt animals.
(Or people. Animals and people in pain sound much the same.)
Needles that are too much for tender skin, thin veins. Jabbed in without care for the one on the other side of it. It stings and there is too much blood lost.
(Asleep more than awake. Not that really stops the pain.)
White coats, careless hands that touch and touch and touch without heed for the pain those touches cause. Pulling flesh apart like taffy, but also not because that’s just in your imagination, isn’t it-
Dying, your heart shuddering to stop over and over, but chemicals in your bloodstream refuse to give you up. Dying but death never sticking.
Glasses gleam, curious about this apparent immortality. More pain, more exposure of your guts, more blood.
(Always more blood.)
A man in red-
I blink and it is over, as quickly as I received the vision in the first place. Like nothing ever happened in the first place, which Ven seems to be pretending to be the truth.
There’s a hundred and one things I want to ask. To shout, for the world to hear. When that has been done to you, Ven, how can you still pretend that everything's the same? That nothing is wrong? How?
Because what happened to Ven, that’s bad. So much worse than what Vexen did to me, but I have no doubt that Vexen would have done similar in Castle Oblivion if I hadn’t been able to get away. Hadn’t shredded my own Heart in escaping.
Ven had never had a chance in the first place, to even try running.
I know what it’s like to be scared. It’s okay. He sends to me. For once, only words. Not feelings, not images. Only words. Seemingly untainted by any kind of emotion. But I know better, don’t I?
My teeth dig into my tongue, tasting blood. Keeping my words from falling out in return.
No. It’s not okay. Not what happened to you. It will never be okay, Ven. We can both be scared, but what happened to you...I will not let that happen. Not again. Not ever again.
(Good thing that Hojo’s already dead, from what I can tell, in flashy glimpses. Stolen as my mind pressed to Ven’s. Lucky for Hojo.)
Speak of one of my personal devils, opening up a door off to the side. There’s Even and I just barely manage to not flinch, because he doesn’t sound the same as the Vexen I know. Not quite. Close but different, less extended. Less life lived, perhaps? Less shitty choices made, for sure.
“Everything is ready,” he says smoothly. “You may all come in.”
Sliding in, I push the newly gifted memories to the back of my mind. They aren’t necessary here, and I have a gut feeling that Ven didn’t intend to give me so much. How private that is...
Wait. When did Kairi get here? Um, I guess I forgot she existed. Not a good look on me, she already gets more than enough for that from canon. Heh, my bad?
There’s an interesting machine in the room we file into. I watch it carefully, but it doesn’t seem the sort to demand blood or skin to function. Of course, I’m definitely going to have to give up blood later, it’s how these things work. But not yet, apparently.
The machine gives a little hum as it scans Ven’s Heart. Beeping as we all get some lovely results that to be honest, kind of freak me out.
How do you exist with a third of a Heart? That seems...impossible. But also, very Kingdom Hearts of Ven, good job pulling off an impossible existence. Much better than I have so far, anyway.
(I bet it hurts, to live like that. It is for me.)
Vanitas is more of what I expected, two thirds of the Ventus-Heart plus what I’m pretty sure is the Xehanort vessel bit. Considering how everyone appears to be wincing at its existence...yeah, more than sure.
When it comes to my turn...I grimace but don’t fight back. Let the strange machine do its work on me, ferreting out the details of my weird existence. Not going to be pleasant to see everyone else react to this, that’s for sure.
Because I may have more of a Heart than Ven, and a bit more than Vanitas, but it’s in worse condition than either of theirs.
My Heart-
Well. There’s not a better way to put this.
My Heart bleeds. Always and constantly. It’s something I’ve gotten used to, since I first shredded it escaping from Vexen in Castle Oblivion. Pretty much all of my life so far. Sometimes the aches of my Heart spread to the rest of my body, and I ache for a day or two. Not really anything I can do to fix that.
It bleeds and pulses as I breath and I try to keep it together no matter what happens. The pain is more noticeable now that Rook is gone. I’m almost certain that his presence was helping patch up the wounds and without him there, I can’t stop my inevitable dissolving alone.
Pity. Fear. Sympathy. Emotions that everyone around me feels almost instantly, as Even gently explains to them what my scan means.
I hate how soft he is about, like he’s a vet telling some kids that their dog needs to be put to sleep.
Seriously, this is why I didn’t want anyone to take a look in the first place. They’re all worrying and they can all do nothing.
(I don’t want their pity)
“Your Heart seems to have been in this state for quite some time, I’ll have to run more examinations to find out when that occurred-”
I shake my head at that.
“No? Do you know the cause then?”
For once in my life, I choose a bit of diplomacy. Don’t say that his alternate self is to blame. “I was trying to Corridor away from an enemy, shortly after I was born.”
Created.
“Ah. Your Heart would have been still adjusting and forming itself in response to the world around it, an injury that would have never happened later in your life. Does it hurt often? Does it hurt more and more over time?”
Yeah. What do you think?
(I don’t mention the evergrowing hunger.)
“…As you can see, you likely are experiencing physical symptoms as a result of your Heart’s damaged state,” Even concludes. Giving me answers that I already know, already guessed at.
I’m dying, that’s all there is to it. Not going to go without a fight, of course, but that still doesn’t change my current reality of death creeping up on me. One that Master Xehanort, of all people, promised to avert for me.
But don’t worry. I won’t go to him for this. Never.
(Unless that choice has already been made...has it?)
“But what does that mean? What can we do?” Xion asks almost desperately.
Kairi bites at her lip. “Can we do anything?”
Both of them begging for this Even’s help. I never wanted this for them. Not for me.
“A body and Soul without a Heart is a Nobody. A Heart and Soul without a body is a Luminosity Being, such as a Light or a Darkness – though so if the Luminosity Beings you’ve met are, to the best of my knowledge, the Foretellers. A body and Heart without a Soul is a corpse.” Even explains things I already know (well, maybe not the Luminosity bit, interesting), but I’m not going to stop him. Better this man rant instead of taking me apart.
Besides, Kairi and Xion don’t know anything and are taking all that they can. Seeming very interested. Maybe I should talk to them more about stuff like this, explain more of our lives like I did to Namine in the past. And Xion, occasionally.
Even nods at Vanitas and Ven, who both looked bored and not paying attention. “Beings can exist with fractured amounts of any of the three, as I assume you know. The Unversed. Ven and Vanitas have incomplete Hearts and bodies, but they both have their own whole Souls. Reeve Tuesti is another example of an Unversed – while his body and Heart are both whole, his Soul is in at least two pieces at any given time."
Familiar green eyes laser focus back on me. I fight not to shrink back. "Your Soul is whole, but the state of your Heart and body is still rather concerning. I assume you know this, however, it’s still worth repeating. Ideally, we would work on creating some sort of cast to patch up the damages on your Heart, so that it may have the time and resources to repair itself once it is no longer metaphorically bleeding out – however, given the small time frame that you and your companions have to stay in this world, we may need to find a faster, if less effective, solution.”
Thankfully, thankfully, those eyes go to Ven. Away from me.
“Now, then. Your Heart and soul are stable, but I’d like some bloodwork from you, to get a better check on your health. It’s standard procedure.” There’s a softness to this Even’s voice, one I’ve never heard from Vexen before.
I wonder...how much was lost in that transformation from Somebody to Nobody? How much can never be regained? I put it aside, because there’s nothing I can do about that.
But I can do something about Ven’s entire being seems to shudder at the mention of bloodwork. Because I know why that is. Too well, my own Heart pounding in memory.
“I don’t think that would be a good idea.” Hell, everyone’s staring at me. Especially Vanitas.
Yellow eyes narrow. “What do you mean?”
Wait. Ven didn’t...tell their twin. What. Beans. Oh man, oh beans.
(I’m totally going to die. Yay.)
Ven presses their head against Vanitas’ shoulder. Quiet as they presumably exchange stuff through their mind connection, Ven probably showing Vanitas what he did to me.
“Ven...Ven, why didn’t you tell me sooner?” Vanitas looks hurt. Oh man, no, not family drama. I twitch in place. I didn’t want people paying attention to my hurt Heart, but I didn’t want this!
Terra’s saying something. Not my problem. But Vanitas is saying something else. Probably my problem. Tune back in.
Hissed words. “So you know when Ven went to that other worldline for a few months?”
“…yes?” Terra asks for everyone else.
“Well.” Vanitas pauses, swallowing something in its throat, trying to come up with the right words. If there are right ones, for this. “They got kidnapped for three days by some crazy biologist and basically experimented on.”
I can’t hide my wince. Everyone else’s responses are similar, letting out gasps and pained hisses. Terra looks the most pained of all, like he’s taken a Keyblade to his gut. Like he’s failed Ven completely and totally. Devasted.
As much as I don’t really like him, he doesn’t deserve that. Because he didn’t fail Ven. Life just...happened.
“I...see.” Even’s response is pretty calm, hiding the turmoil that must be underneath. Because how do you respond to a sudden painful revelation like that?“Unfortunately, we do still need bloodwork to check Ven’s health, but given the situation I believe we can put it off for some time. Did Ven get checkups in that other worldline that you mentioned? Would it be possible to find a medical professional that they do trust, or that would have experience to be able to help us with this?”
Ven mentions something, probably. I don’t hear because it’s not directed towards me. Also, because Terra’s utter despair keeps grabbing my attention. I feel bad and I’m not used to that.
Not about people I’ve already made up my mind on. Not about people that I haven’t failed myself.
Should I...do something? Maybe I should. I step forward to give Terra a gentle pat on the arm. He glances at me in surprise and before he can do anything else, I whisper.
“Not your fault. Sorry that it happened to your kid, though. Sucks.”
My good deal done for the day, I withdraw behind Xion and Kairi before Terra suddenly hugs me or something weird like that.
Vanitas is saying something about bloodwork, from whatever Ven told it.
“Good to know. Now, then,” Even says slowly, “Ven.”
[Yes?] A slightly shaking hand. Not a motion the more human-adjacent party members will notice, but I know that Vanitas definitely does by the way it shifts as if to move forward. To comfort its twin.
“Is there any reason why you haven’t informed anyone about your experiences with this… former medical treatment, before now?”
[What are you, a therapist?] Ah, that’s familiar. An annoyance, a rage I’ve felt many times myself (and am kinda feeling now, about people poking at my Heart condition), present in Ven. Finally mirroring how I respond to things, and that doesn’t seem right for some reason. Annoying, isn’t it? For everyone to drag things out that cannot be fixed?
But this is Ven’s life. I watch and don’t interfere.
“I need to know what sort of experiences you’ve had, any surgeries or procedures, so that I may take them into account to get you the medical care that you need.”
Of course he does. Makes sense, no matter how irritating that truth may be.
Ven shrinks back. [Sorry.]
Ugh. Maybe I should step in. I don’t like the look of that sadness on their face.
“Do you… want to talk about it?” Please, I have very little desire to go into this. Especially when I have a feeling that Vanitas might actually beat me up if Ven tells me more secrets without telling its twin in turn.
Still, I’ll make the offer. Because if I can help, I will.
A head shake. [Not today.]
Oh. That works. I nod back, lean back against the wall. Terra and Ven hug, snuggle. Vanitas hovers nearby, almost touching but not quite. I don’t have to get involved, good.
Thankfully I don’t have to stay for when Even needs to take a deeper look at Ven’s everything, after that revelation on Ven’s...past experience with Hojo. Can’t blame the man for wanting to check, that’s what any good doctor would do. A proper doctor.
I’m more than happy to leave. Not get pulled into anything else.
Kairi and Xion leave with me, just us three.
“You should have told me,” is the first thing Xion says. A quiet thing.
“Told you what? Something you can’t do anything about? That I’m dying?” Xion doesn’t flinch in response and now that I think about it, she’s been awfully quiet about this entire revelation of my Heart’s condition.
“You...” I narrow my eyes at her. “You already knew, didn’t you?”
She doesn’t even have the decency to look ashamed by the revelation. “Our Even told us.”
Ah-! Of course he would! “He didn’t have the right!”
“Didn’t have the right to say that you were dying and you won’t tell us!” Xion’s eyes are sharp and slice like daggers into my gut.
Kairi only watches, arms folded over her chest. Saying nothing. Which is great! I don’t need to hear anything from her either. But also...worrying.
Until there’s a distraction from the lab’s door, that I happily take.
Oh? Vanitas and Ven have come out with canes.
Kind of jealous, actually. Canes can be pretty cool. Especially for whacking people with. Good for them! Be able to get something to help the pain, at least a little. And so quickly too! Makes sense with the magic, and can make all kinds of stuff much faster than before. Cool stuff, right?
There’s nothing to answer that, in my head.
Yeah. Cool stuff.
(I miss him.)
#tempests crossover#storm whispers au#oc ruse#going to add a xion pov to the ao3 edition might take a little longer!#but i wanted to put this out as kind of sort of part of khoc week!#ruse has health problems ruse has guilt problems#ruse has ALL the problems
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