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adventuringblind · 2 months

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Entitled To You (3.6K words)

Norstaptri x Reader

Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort

Summary: An incident with Lance sends the boys into a frenzy. She just wants to do what she loves.

Warnings: Explicit depictions of r@pe, injury descriptions, panic attacks, Oscar plots a murder, Lando throws hands, Car crashes, Author doesn't know legal stuff, Head trauma and blood.

Notes: This one is a request from @Lily234566 I know this wasn't the original pairing but I was struggling to fit the Ferrari boys in there so I had to scale it back... I'm sorry and I hope you still like it! T_T

Side Note: Sorry to the Lance girlies reading this. AND obligatory message of I don't know these people and this is purely FICTION! HEAD THE TAGS! DONT LIKE THEN DONT READ!

Masterlist // Request Form // My Website // buy me a Ko-Fi

“Max!” She peeks her head into his driver's room. The bright beaming smile she receives in return after their 1-2 nearly kills her. “They want me for a media thing, apparently.” HIs smile drops into a pout. The sad puppy eyes might convince her to stay.

“Again? Don’t they know we have plans!

“No, and why would they care anyway?” She looks him up and down and whines because he’s standing in front of her with no shirt on. “Just - I’ll meet you guys back at the room. It’s something to do with being a female in F1… again.”

“I’m starting to think they have nothing else to talk about.”

She shrugs as she walks out of the hospitality, waving to Christian on her way by. The goal is to get past the Mclaren garage without seeing Lando because otherwise she is not going to the interview. His pout is worse (better?) than Max’s.

To her pleasant surprise, Laura is the one conducting the interview. “I’m sorry about this being last minute! They said they wanted you to do it with someone else next week and I offered to do it now.”

The interview passes with ease and thankfully doesn’t take long at all. The banter in-between is also entertaining.

She’s exhausted when they finish. Ready to go back to the hotel and fall into bed with her boys. Hopefully They’ve ordered food - and dessert.

The paddock is nearly empty as she makes her way through. Maybe, had she been paying more attention and not focussed on her aching body, she would’ve caught on to the footsteps behind her.

They are heavy, she assumes possibly a mechanic still packing up to continue on their way to the next circuit. That’s what she still thinks when the hand on her bicep yanks her around the corner.

If she weren’t as exhausted, then fighting would’ve been a possibility. However, that seems out of the cards as he pins her against the nearest wall. Her forehead hitting the surface hard enough to make her dizzy.

“Not so confident now, huh?”

The fuck- “Lance? What are you?-” He slams her head again and cages her body against his own. She flails, only to be slammed again. “Would you stop doing that please?”

“Not after that stupid stunt you pulled today on track.”

“You mean the one where you showed you don’t know what brakes are?-” Again, her head is sent into the hard surface. She can feel her nose starting to bleed. “Must you?!” She decided to shut up when he does it again and everything starts to go fuzzy.

His fingers dip beneath the waistband of her fireproofs. The cold evening air hits her bare skin and she panics more than before. Her head is too cloudy to fully comprehend what’s happening.

“I feel like I'm entitled to a bit of compensation after that stunt.”

“You’re entitled to nothing. You took yourself out!” She hisses through gritted teeth. Still, Lance continues to get her clothes lower. And slams her head again harder - you know - because she wasn’t disoriented enough already.

“Would you shut up?” She doesn’t say anything this time. Her mouth feels numb and her ears are ringing. Her exposed lower half is met with the bare hands of someone she doesn't want touching her.

It's - well - it hurts. He's groping at her thighs, ass, even her tits which she isn't sure how he's managing. His hands are everywhere they shouldn't be.

And then nothing.

A vague awareness of what's happening seeps through her veins and invades her senses. She tries to scream. Attempts despite the sheer pain of the snap of hips she didn't ask for.

His finger beat her to it. A hand encloses around her throat and cuts off her oxygen. The black spots dance around her vision. She wants them to stop moving; they are making her dizzy. Or was she already dizzy?

“See, it's not so bad. Don't you feel less guilty for ruining my race now?” No, she doesn't. She wasn't guilty before.

She blacks out.

~~~♡~~~

Waking up with sore limbs and a killer headache is not how she pictured this night going. She tries to yell for help, but a mere creaky rasp escapes.

When did she lose her voice? The thought makes her panic more. The sob she lets out hurts more than there is sound.

Her face and hair is sticky. At least Lance had done her the courtesy of not finishing inside of her.

Still - what the fuck even happened? The fragmented memory is trying to come back to her slowly. Each small piece remembered is another broken cry.

She can't move.

It's dark again.

~~~♡~~~

The anxiety between the three boys is certainly not something they are used to. Oscar can pinpoint the exact moment Lando started overthinking and Max had to bear hug him so he didn't pace a hole into the cement of the parking lot.

The fourth seat in their car remains empty and their messages have gone unanswered. It's getting more concerning with each passing minute.

“Max, she always responds.”

“I know Lando.”

“She always calls if she's going to be longer.”

“Lando?”

“Yes?”

“Would you feel better if we went and looked around for her?”

The Brit nods his head in a fashion that might give him whiplash. It's better seeing him feel helpful then sit helplessly. Though Oscar can't help but agree with Max's original point. that they should wait there at the car just in case since that's where they were supposed to meet.

Granted, it's only been twenty minutes. It's still long enough to be murdered.

They Methodically peer around corners and wave at the mechanics who give them skeptical looks. They were supposed to be out for post race celebrations by now.

Oscar freezes when he sees it. The human shaped lump lying on the ground. He rushes over with long strides. The closer he gets, the more familiar the person on the ground becomes.

“Max! Lando! I found her!” The other two boys come sprinting in his direction. He's on the ground trying to clear her hair from her face only for it to get stuck in the sticky substance coating her features.

“What the fuck?”

Her fireproofs are still on, but it's obvious what happened. The handprints on her neck, the blood trickling down the sides of her face. “We need to bring her to a hospital.”

Max hoists her up in his arms. Mainly because Lando is on the brink of tears and struggling to breathe through his panic. He loves deeply and with his heart on his sleeve. Oscar just hopes he can keep the Brit calm until they find more help.

“Can we at least clean her up?” Lando pleads with him. Big Hazel eyes brimming with tears.

It's always a struggle to tell him no. “We can't, not if it can help us figure out who did it.” The tears start right after that.

“So that’s what happened then? Someone really-” Oscar has to maneuver the puddle of tears that is his boyfriend into the passenger seat of their rental car. Max tosses him the keys, opting to be with her in the back and keep her comfortable.

The tricky drive to emergency is more because Oscar is too far in his own thoughts to pay attention to the traffic lights. He can hear Max moving her around, attempting to put pressure where blood still flows freely.

Oscar doesn’t bother with parking. He pulls off into some empty area and helps Max shoulder her weight inside the doors while Lando runs ahead to find help.

It’s fast after that. They take her away and start patching her up while the three of them are forced to sit in the waiting room. Oscar and Lando are left to their own devices while Max paces about on the phone with Christian.

He feels like a knife is being driven through his chest each time his mind tries to come up with what could’ve happened. Who would do something like this? Unfortunately, a lot of people. The question is more of who could’ve done it and gotten away. Someone with access to the paddock this late. Security, perhaps? Maybe even a sleazy mechanic? A driver wouldn’t make any sense… right?

“When will they let us see her?”

“When she wakes up, most likely.”

He’s not sure when he falls asleep. The exhaustion finally hit him like a truck despite his persistence. He’s awoken by Max’s constant shaking and aggressive whispering of his name.

“-She’s asking for us.”

He’s up faster than Lando when Jon threatens an ice bath. They follow the nurse down the halls with an uneasy anticipation. They creep inside the sterile room and find her staring at the wall.

Lando doesn’t hesitate to move further into the room. Always having been more in touch with his emotions then the other two boys. “Hey love, can I come closer?”

She looks at him. The bandages plastered over the sides of her head and around her face now visible to them. She returns Lando’s gaze with glassy eyes. It’s damn near shocking when she tries to pull things off her body in a desperate attempt to reach for Lando.

Lando gets to her before she can get everything off, specifically the IV, and catch her arms. Oscar and Max finally pull themselves together and manage to get her to lay back down with some coaxing.

She’s shaking violently. Her grip on Lando’s arm is sure to leave bruises. “Who - who f-found me?”

“We did, schat. We got worried when you didn’t respond.” Max drags the two chairs in the room closer and pulls Oscar down into one. Lando, against all odds, manages to wriggle his way into bed with her.

“I know who it was. I - well - does anyone else know?”

“Just Christian and us.” Oscar can feel the fight Max is putting up to not ask her more questions. The way he’s grounding himself with a hand on Oscars knee instead.

“You don’t have to tell us.” He attempts to reassure. Maybe calm her mind by giving her an option. “Just know we’re here, alright?”

“I don’t want it to be a big story. It’s already going to be since I can’t be in the car for the next four weeks. Oh fuck - everyone is gonna know-” Lando hushes her; gets her to somehow hold him tighter.

“Christian said it’s up to you, whatever happens.” Max nods at her encouragingly. “We go at your pace.”

“They did a rape kit. They’ll know who it is. It was all over so it couldn’t have been hard to get DNA - oh fuck”

Her heart rate picks up. The nurses rush in. They send her back to sleep.

~~~♡~~~

Max wants to know who it was who touched her. The rage simmering underneath her skin is almost too much to keep contained.

On the more fortunate side, they were allowed to stay since she wouldn’t let go of Lando. Then when he did have to get up, they rotated.

The doctors and nurses learned to approach her like she’s a scared animal. The heavy footsteps seem to set her off and there is now a sticky note on the door saying to tiptoe when entering. It’s endearing to see her doctors and nurses trying so hard not to startle her. But seeing as they’ve now had several incidents where she’s panicked, they are taking more caution.

Oscar and Lando have meandered away in search of food. Max opted to stay put and made the promise to bring him back cheat foods. He’s too stressed to not eat something of comfort.

Her physio is supposed to come by today with the stuff she left at the track and get an update from the doctors themselves instead of Max’s botched attempts at repeating back. It will also be nice to see her comfortable, as the one blanket that travels with her everywhere will also be dropped off.

“Max?” He tightens his hold to show he’s listening. “It’s not fair… You, Lando, and Oscar make a mistake on track and nobody does that to you. I - It wasn’t my fault.”

The thing is, Max is smarter than people give him credit for. The only incident on track was with Lance. An incident that was his own fault. “He’s at fault, not you. None of this is your fault.”

“They are going to say I was asking for it or something.”

“In those fireproofs? The only ones asking for it are me and Oscar… for obvious reasons.” He chuckles proudly at his little self compliment.

It also manages to get her to crack something of a half smile. “Are you complimenting your own ass?”

“And what if I am?”

She doesn’t eat anything despite it being sat in front of her. Soft foods are the only thing she’ll be eating. Her throat, albeit not as bad as it could've been (thank you F1), is still damaged and needs to rest as much as possible.

They had to keep her for observation due to where the head wounds had been. It’s been a rough thirty-six hours, but they are managing.

Despite the hectic situation, Max has come to learn that the female lying in the hospital bed is a better person then the rest of them. Oscar was detailing a full proof murder plan while she was telling him not to make it a bigger deal then it is. To which Oscar politely put his ten step plan with four contingencies down and told her that it’s ‘what he had coming to him’.

Max has not had to stop someone from assassinating a rival before, but Oscar seems like a reasonable guy. “Death is too good for him.”

“Mm, you’re right, I’ll just make sure he doesn’t die then and can’t see my face.”

“Or, we make his life a series of inconveniences! I feel like daddy’s money could get him good therapy. It can’t solve every minor problem.” Lando has a gleam in his eyes.

Him and Oscar start pouring over ideas once more. The girl simply shakes her head and goes back to eyeing her pudding like it’s assaulted her. “I don’t want to leave here, Max.”

“Why not? I’d assume you want to go home? Sleep in a comfortable bed?”

“Out there, they can get to us. Here is safe.”

He considers how to reassure her. Only, there is nothing he can think of. The truth is that outside of this hospital room, there is no guarantee they won’t run into trouble.

“I can’t promise that we'll never have something bad happen again. But-” He looks to the McLaren duo brainstorming ways to make the Aston Martin garage regret existing. “We’ll be there for each other. We’re here for you. When you want us and when you need us, yes?”

“Pinky swear?” She extends her pink to him.

Max accepts and curls his pinks around hers. “Pinky swear.”

~~~♡~~~

It’s not fair really, that they had to leave to go do things. Lando would prefer he at least stayed with her so she isn’t alone. Alas, they are preparing for her discharge and he had to run around getting things together for their trip back to Monaco.

He comes back to a partially opened door and smiles at the other two boys being able to get back before him. Then again, as he gets closer he can hear the angry tone. One that Max uses when he’s pissed off about something.

Lando panics and rushes inside. Only to be met with the sight of the last person he wants around right now.

Now - he wouldn’t say he’s prone to violence. Lando prefers to keep the peace when it comes to conflict unless he’s trying to piss someone off on purpose to get a reaction. This is not one of those times.

Lando’s knuckles collide with the Canadian’s jaw faster than he can fully become aware of what he’s doing. Lance stumbles backward and holds his jaw, glaring at Lando like he’s the one in the wrong here.

“Get out!”

“We were just talking-”

“I said. Get. Out.” He’s seething. The thudding in his chest becoming louder with each second Lance remains in this room.

He’s not prone to violence.

Really, he’s not.

Yet the second crack of knuckles into Lance's chin gives him some sick satisfaction. Isn’t there something about equilibrium? Can he pin this on restoring the balance or something? Regardless, he isn’t going to dent the fact that it feels good.

The nurses come running and start asking questions. Max and Oscar have to drag Lando away kicking and screaming.

Worse is when they try to tell him that there are pictures out on social media. Christian has been calling Max non-stop. Oscar has been dealing with Zak. Their relationship isn’t a secret and neither is their current location.

“They're sending us a different car to see if we can’t get out discreetly.”

“What happened with Lance, Lan? Are you alright?”

Everyone is panting. Their eyes trained on the door. “I punched him. I restored the equal-brey-um… thing.”

“Equilibrium.”

“Yeah that!”

He’s not sure how they get on the plane. He’s still amped up about the whole punching thing and running purely off adrenaline.

They’ve been sitting in silence, mulling over their options. Creating statements they can put out. It’s hectic and they keep trashing them because nothing fits.

The female has been apathetic. The last thing she wanted was for this to get out and now it has. Seemingly everything is flashing before her eyes. Her career will be gone soon enough, so what’s even the point?

“Don’t post anything. We don’t have an obligation to confirm or deny the rumors. If anything, we can say that you were just driving me to the hospital and being good friends or whatever.” She won’t look at them. Still - Lando can hear how upset she is, the waiver in her voice. “I’m going to be kicked out anyway.”

“Christian said-”

“Damn what Christian said! He knows this isn’t going to get any better and if I say who it was then Daddy’s Money is just going to pay his way through.” She's hyperventilating now. Her body collapses against her seat and Oscar makes an effort to get her to lean against him. “It’s not fair!”

lando Can’t help but share her feelings.

~~~♡~~~

She stays holed up in the Redbull garage the next weekend. The appearance is hard, people want to ask her questions. Her boys had been caught in the middle of the riptide and haven’t come back to shore yet.

At least she’s here. She’s trying her hardest to look stronger than she is. On the inside things are falling apart.

The team knows to give her space and not ask about the ordeal. She takes refuge in Max’s room when things are too much and the other drivers keep their distance.

They know it was one of them. She’d been adamant on not saying who it was, but it’s obvious there are sixteen who it could have been, given her partners insistence that none of them go near her garage for the time being.

She just wants this whole thing to blow over. She wants to lay in bed with her lovers and not flinch when they go to touch her.

She knows, however, that until she deals with things that healing can’t happen like it should. Or at least, that’s what her therapist says. The one she is now required to see.

Things get worse when she’s back in the car. Her media duties are limited so she can focus on driving and ‘listening to her body’ as her physio likes to say.

She can’t hear her body over the sound of her mind going staticy as Lance closes in on her. The catalyst for everything. She panics and ends up in the wall. Not the worst crash ever, but certainly hurts her pride more than it has already.

The thing is, it keeps happening. Even as she’s able to let her boys back in. As her podium finishes start to come back. Her fireproofs (which they’d gotten her all new ones) start to feel comfortable again and she doesn’t feel the need to be out of them the second the race is done. Still, Lance is using this to his advantage.

Finally, after he almost killed her on track (again), she’s had enough.

The trial goes better than she thought it would. Despite the money differences, Lance won’t be able to race anymore. It’s not some grand spectacle either, just an announcement like usual. It’s more the closure she needed versus the publicized drama it could have been.

She wins the next race.

“If I ever see him again, it will be too soon.”

“It’s been over a year now, Lan. I’m getting better.” There is a genuine smile on her face. The car awaits to take them back to the hotel. It was here that it happened. She almost considered not racing because of it.

“Lando got a taste of blood and now he’s feinding for it.” Max has a comforting hand around her waist. A grounding presence.

“I mean, I never threw away my murder plot…”

“You’re a genius Oscar!”

She shakes her head. It’s not like any of this has been easy. It never is. Still - her boys are here and they’ve been so patient.

“There’s her smile.” They all beam at her.

She smiles back.

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dilemmaontwolegs · 6 months

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Already Gone || MV1 {7}

Pairing: Max Verstappen x spy!fem!reader Summary: After the attack in your home, Max is serious about learning to fight. Warnings: 18+ only, nsfw, alcohol, sparring, mentions of illegal activities WC: 1.8k

F1 Masterlist || previous chapter || next chapter

“Are you sure you should be drinking? You might have a concussion,” Max worried as you sipped the gin and tonic Christian had made.

“Relax, the lady’s earned a drink or two,” Christian said as he sat down with his own. “Nice job.”

You clinked your glass with your bosses before drinking half of the strong beverage in one gulp and sighing happily. “Thank you. Dare I ask where Brett’s taking them?”

Christian chuckled and shook his head. “Best to have deniability.”

Max looked uncomfortable at the conversation as he shifted in his seat beside you, his fingers massaging your shoulder that his arm draped across.

“I know you don’t like it, babe, but this is the reality of the situation,” you said softly as you took his hand and traced the lines that cut across his palm, not that you believed in the life line or the love line crap. “They wanted to break your hands. They weren’t here to have a pretty conversation that magically convinced you to lose your races. They wanted to make sure you could never race again.”

“I’ve increased the security on Checo but they seem to be focusing their energy on you.”

“Of course, Max is the bigger threat,” you stated obviously. “Anyone who can read the standings knows that.” Tilting your head towards the principal you cocked an eyebrow and asked, “You don’t happen to have half a billion hidden in your mattress?”

Christian scoffed as he swirled his drink, clinking the ice against the glass. “I’m not Pablo Escabar, and I don’t think my wife would sleep comfortably on the lumps.”

“That’s a shame, his personal army could’ve been helpful.”

“What do you want half a billion dollars for anyway?”

“Euros, actually.” You grabbed your phone off the coffee table and opened the app for the stock exchange, scrolling through the companies of interest you had saved before tossing it on his lap. “They wouldn’t sell the majority of their shares but there is a sizable chunk up for grabs. Certainly enough to get a seat on the chairboard.”

Christian looked at the trading name and chuffed at the thought of being a board member at Scuderia Ferrari before he took a sip of his drink. “Let me see what I can move about.”

“Wait, you’re not serious?” Max baulked at the idea before helping himself to your drink at the look you gave him. “Fuck, you are serious.”

“If you need a shell company I have a few old ones to spare.”

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that,” Christian chuckled as he finished his drink and started to head to the door. “I’d get that fixed pronto if I were you.”

You gave him the thumbs up as he left while Max walked him to the gaping hole where the broken door used to be. “See you next week, boss.”

Walking back to your side, Max scratched his short beard and said, “I think we should go to a hotel tonight, liefje.”

A gust of wind blew through the open door and swayed the picture frames on the wall to accentuate his words. “I think you’re right, preferably one with a spa.”

He smiled as he kissed your temple, careful to avoid the swelling on your forehead. “I’m sure I can find something for you.”

Two Months Later “Shit,” Max grunted as the wind was knocked from him.

“Please don’t hurt my star driver before his final race,” Christian said as he walked into the gym and found Max bent over his knees panting.

“I haven’t touched him,” you defended yourself while you rubbed Max’s back. “The speedball took him out.”

“If anyone asks, it was Rico Verhoeven.”

You snorted a laugh. “He loves you too much to hurt you. He would probably let you take him down.”

“Probably,” Max groaned as he straightened up and cocked a brow at his boss who held a file in his hand. “What’s that?”

“Just some paperwork for you to sign,” he said to you as he held it out. “Our lovely Director here will be heading to Italy next week for her first board meeting.”

You hadn’t really missed your old line of work but you couldn’t deny there was a certain thrill to stepping into the lion’s den. Max wasn’t too happy about it, but you had convinced him not to worry, or at least accept it. Christian had been able to shift some money around to make the investment feasible and it had been collectively decided that you would be the best person to take the seat.

Now that the seat was filled you would be able to give the go ahead to your contacts and Scuderia Ferrari stocks would rise once again over the winter break, lining Red Bull’s pockets with profits. It was a win-win.

“What I wouldn’t give to see the faces of those smarmy old bastards when you walk in the boardroom,” Christian mused as you signed the last of the documents. “Benedetto doesn’t know what he started.”

Max had recovered from his winded state and pulled his boxing gloves off to have a drink, taking a seat next to Christian on a weight bench. “You are lucky I am so charming. I should get a bonus for saving the team with my good looks and wonderful personality.”

“Greedy bastard, isn’t the €55 million I am paying you each year enough?” Christian said with a burst of laughter.

“My girlfriend has expensive taste.”

“Hey, I had no problem affording my own lifestyle before I met you,” you pointed out as you stole his drink bottle and pointed to the heavy sandbag. “And I didn’t say you could have a break. Gloves back on, Prince Charming.”

“I’ll leave you love birds to it. Don’t forget dinner tonight,” Christian said as he made his way back to the door. “Oh, and try not to be beaten by a bag, Max. It’s bad for your reputation.”

Max held his gloved hand up and you knew he was trying to pull the finger inside of it. “Very menacing,” you teased as you grabbed your own set of gloves and joined him in the ring. “Shall we dance, pretty boy?”

“Do I get a reward if I take you down?”

You blew a kiss to your boyfriend and raised your hands. “How about you focus on just trying to land a punch?”

“I’m competitive, liefje, I respond best to incentives.”

“Is that right...well, in that case, how about this?” You closed the distance between you and brushed your lips along his jaw until you reached his ear. “You take me down, and you can take me down.”

His athletic stamina that kept him strong for the races showed no sign of weakening as he followed you around the ring, relentlessly trying to take you to the mat. Sweat beaded on your forehead as you ducked and spun out of his reach, and you saw his cheeks flush with the same exertion of his effort.

Deciding he had pushed himself hard enough for one day, you planted your foot and deflected the throw he made. He overextended past you, leaving his side open for you to wrap yourself around, dragging him to the thin padding on the ground and rolling until you straddled his hips.

“Good work, but it’s time to rest. You have qualifying soon.”

“I’ve already won the championship, plus I could start last on the grid and still get points,” he said with a cocky smile before he stole your signature move. He used your own momentum against you, twisting his hips as he reached across your body. The room spun as you were flipped onto your back and suddenly you were looking up at him. “I just can’t help winning, see.”

“Go on then,” you dared as he hungrily eyed your body pinned beneath his. “Take your reward.”

“We could get caught,” Max groaned as he glanced at the door Christian had left through, knowing it was unlocked.

“You’re not scared are you?”

All his blood rushed south of his brain and he found no reason to deny you both. “Fuck it.”

Dinner was a quiet affair with just the team and their families. The real party would come after the race, but you were quite content as you were when the group broke up at the end of the evening.

Geri had taken the children off to bed while the mechanics went to a nightclub nearby for a ‘nightcap’. Christian wished them a good evening and a polite suggestion to not stay out too late. It left you, Max and Christian moving to your fully stocked bar in the presidential suite and sinking into the plush seats.

“What a fucking year it’s been,” Christian laughed as he rubbed his beard.

You snorted a laugh and kicked your feet up onto Max’s lap. “It’s been exciting though, you have to admit that.”

You smiled as the two recounted their favourite parts of the season while you browsed the NASDAQ Dubai journal you had started reading before dinner.

“It’s a shame George is still sick, he can’t catch a break.”

“You think George being sick is a coincidence?” you commented as you turned the page and chuckled. “Tell me you are not that-“ you fell silent at the look Christian gave you and just shrugged. “It’s quite easy to replicate illnesses with certain substances is all I’m saying…”

“Why go after George?” Max pondered aloud while Christian sat still processing what you had inferred.

Your boss’s eyes lit up with realisation and he grabbed his phone to open the F1 app to confirm his thoughts. “Because if George scores anything above fourth place tomorrow Mercedes will beat Ferrari in the constructors championship. That’s worth a few million euros, at least.”

“Bingo.”

“Do we do anything with this information?” Max asked as he began to massage your ankle. Though he had almost come to accept the dark underbelly of the sport, he still didn’t like it and it made him nervous.

“We can’t prove it,” you said with a shake of your head as his massage glided up your calf muscle, like a cat that kneaded a spot for self-comfort. “It’s not exactly a bad thing too, Ferrari coming second. It will make for great telly seeing Toto throw a bitch fit.”

Christian nearly spilled his drink with the belly laugh that filled the suite. “I’ll cheers to that,” he toasted as he held his drink forward. “To the end of an exciting season.”

You leaned in with yours and tapped it with his and Max’s. “And to another one next year.” They both cut you a side eye and you bit your lip to suppress the smile. “Or not.”

Click here for the next part.

#max verstappen fic #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen x reader #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 x you #formula one fanfiction #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #formula one imagine

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queenwille · 2 months

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are you pro-israel/anti-palestine?

hi, first, i appreciate you asking very politely and not assuming things.

i’ll say i’m a zionist, which isn’t an offensive word. i believe in the right of the jewish people for self determination in the form of a jewish state in the land of israel, the promised land of the jewish people.

i find calling israel, the only jewish state in a sea of muslim/christian states, an “ethostate” and mocking the jews for feeling the need in one, as very antisemitic rude and offensive. that goes without mentioning how ignorant and rude it is to claim all jews are white europeans. literally cancelling the whole rich history of the jewish people in the arab countries (which they were mostly chased out of as well).

the need to live within your given or chosen community is such a natural thing, even animals do it. for some reason, when it comes to israel and the jews, it’s wrong. before anyone starts, please let me remind you that within this very large jewish community, there are 2.5 million arabs (mostly muslim, some christian). they share equal rights, a citizenship and an israeli ID/passport. yes, even the sister of the top hamas man (who was arrested this week for having documents and money linked to hamas, a terror organization).

that being said, i am in no shape or form, nor never was i, anti palestine. i think it’s just not as simple as some people who joined the hot trend across the world see it. the state of palestine was never established for many reasons that don’t involve the jewish people. i do mean this when i say i do wish the palestinian people a safe and established land, but it’s simply not that easy. it really isn’t no israel=yes palestine. they have so many other needs other than demolishing the land of israel. their inner conflicts are very much alive to this day (google fatah/hamas conflict), their lack of actual support from neighboring countries and other reasons they have there. they’re really not at a good starting point, but no one ever talks of that. it’s just easier to masturbate to the idea that protesting in favor of demolishing israel and sending +-7,000,000 jews to fuck knows where will be enough.

let me make it clear, the fact that civilians are being killed and hurt breaks my heart. i say this knowing fully well that many took part in the oct7 massacre. generations, on both sides, being brought up with nothing but hate and fear of each other boiled up to this disaster. which is why i find the whole western pro pal movement, spreading fake news and hate and deepening the conflict, as not just offensive, but also very dangerous. for both sides (+diaspora jews). calling hamas freedom fighters and not the terror organization that they are is as dangerous to the palestinians as as it is dangerous to israelis/jews. they are given actual legitimacy for actions that are considered extremist and terror on an international level. yes, they do hide in UN protected facilities, using inocentes as human shields. and when we say the west is next, it’s not just a spicy slogan, it’s not really about the jews, but the western culture.

i am very angry of the way the hostages are being ignored or bluntly canceled (ripping off their posters everywhere). it’s hypocritical and very upsetting. i will also mention that i seriously don’t appreciate using the jewish holocaust and appropriating it’s terms and the well known generational jewish trauma and mocking it.

lastly, i would like to mention that a lot of what’s happening right now around the world just proves the need in a jewish state. being close with an army that’s main goal is protecting its people literally feels safer for jews even under missiles and terror attacks. let me inform you that the main reason that israeli casualties are lower, is the invention of the Iron Dome, operated by the IDF. It has saved thousands of civilian lives since it’s first use. no, it wasn’t hamas’ more humane ways or idk what i read. israel literally spends every last dime to keep it’s people safe, while hamas won’t even let the palestinian people have a safe hospital. instead of mocking our worries and constant feeling of being persecuted and in danger, to the point that a jewish state feels like a life or death matter, maybe try to think what you can do to change that. saying we’re delusional or closing mouths when we claim for antisemitism isn’t helping, and it sure isn’t what’s currently happening in the world and social media.

again, thanks for asking. i have so much more to say and that’s before actually going into current antisemitism or even into october 7th, i just think i’ll stop here for now. i hope this somewhat answers your question.

#ask #anon #israel #also treating many commonly used hebrew words linked to jewish culture #as sweat words or in a mocking way #DONT GET ME STARTED #jumblr #*swear lol

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prettyyoungandbored · 2 years

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Can you please write some more Christian Bale!Bruce Wayne x reader where they’re married or trying to get pregnant or find out she’s pregnant? Or maybe she’s pregnant and attacked? or she goes into labor?

Pregnant [Bale!Bruce Wayne]

Pairing: Christian Bale!Bruce Wayne x Reader

NOT MY GIF

Those two lines were the most damning things she’d ever seen.

Billions of thoughts filled her mind as she leaned back against the wall. How was she going to tell him? How would he react?

They had talked about kids before, and both agreed to wait until the timing was right…and yet, here was the positive test and the timing couldn’t have been worse.

The Joker was causing chaos and mayhem in the city and Bruce/Batman was dedicated in putting an end to it.

Maybe I could hold off telling him? She pondered to herself. She quickly shook her head. Bruce would catch on. She couldn’t hide a damn thing from that man.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door.

“Are you alright, sweetheart?” Bruce inquired from the other side of the door.

“Yeah, I, uhm…” She sighed and put the test in her robe pocket. “Can you come in here?”

The door opened and Bruce entered, smiling. “If you’re planning on bailing out of this party, I hope you plan on bringing me with you.”

She let out a tiny chuckle. “I’m not the one who told Harvey I would throw him a fundraiser.”

He tilted his head. “What’s going on then?”

She exhaled. It was now or never. “I, uhm, realized I was…that I haven’t had my period in a while…and I…I mean, you know I’ve been sick in the mornings and…”

She shook her head and pulled out the test from her robe. “It’s positive. I’m pregnant and I am scared shitless.”

Bruce’s eyes fixated on the test. He took the stick from her hands.

“I still need to confirm with it my doctor so I’ll make an appointment for -.”

“We’re…having a baby?” he asked, his eyes moving up to meet hers.

“I know this is the worst timing and I know this the last thing you need-.”

She stopped when she saw his smile. It was the same smile he gave her when he told her “I love you”, the same one he had on when she said “yes” to his proposal and “I do” at their wedding.

“We’re gonna have a baby,” he repeated.

She nodded her head, her own smile playing out on her lips. “Yeah, we are.”

He dropped the test and cupped her face, pulling her in for a kiss. Her arms wrapped behind his neck as his hands moved from her face to her waist.

Pulling back, his hands made their way to her stomach. His forehead rest against hers.

“You’re ok with this?” she whispered.

“How can I not be?”

“Really?” She laughed and looked up at him. “You’re going after a psycho clown that’s running amok in the city and you’re ok with me being pregnant?”

“Its almost over,” he told her. “Once he’s done, I’m done. Harvey will take over and you and I can focus on being parents.”

The dream played out in her head. Her and Bruce marveling are their baby as they sat on a picnic blanket in the backyard of Wayne Manor. It would be the three of them against the world.

The thought of it made her heart flutter.

“Can we just cancel tonight and celebrate?” she pleaded.

“How about we make an appearance, converse a little, then escape?” he suggested. “We can celebrate in private elsewhere and then after tonight, no more parties. No more galas.”

She hummed in delight. “You promise?”

“I haven’t broken one yet and I don’t intend to break this one.”

His adoring smile was enough to convince her. “You always know how to get your way, Mr. Wayne.”

He winked and kissed the top of her head before walking off.

Then it hit her.

“Wait, what do I do if they ask me why I’m not drinking?” She snapped her fingers. “What am I thinking? I’ll tell them I’m doing a cleanse. Those idiots will buy it.”

#bruce wayne x reader #Batman #Batman fanfic #christian bale x reader #bruce wayne #bruce wayne fluff #the dark knight

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thesupreme316 · 11 months

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its me again 🤪 i was wondering if you could do aew boys reaction to you getting attacked by your tag team partner exp: you guys lost a tag match and you partner attacks you i hope i explained well🫶🏼🩷

I GOTCHUUUU

AEW Stars React to: You Being Attacked By Your Tag Partner

Pairings: Hook X Reader, Eddie Kingston X Reader, Daniel Garcia X Reader, Darius Martin X Reader, Kenny Omega X Reader, MJF X Reader, Ricky Starks X Reader

Word Count: 1K

Supreme Speaks: thanks to @cassiesworldsworld for requesting (keep em coming)! Reader is gender-neutral in this. nothing else...I hope you all are doing well and please remember that you are loved and appreciated

Warnings: Nun, barely proofread, GIFS ARE NOT MINE

Taglist: @cassiesworldsworld @hooks-martin @hookerforhook @wwenhlimagines @triscillal @sheinthatfandom @eddie-kingstons-wifey

Okay, I have 3 options for this (Reader is gender-neutral applicable to anyone; your partner is of your choosing):

Either you lose via roll-up and are attacked immediately after the match (Bayley attacks Sasha Banks)

After the match, you were attacked by your tag partner who joins the enemy (Luchasaurus attacks Jungle Boy and joins with Christian Cage)

Y’all lost the match, get a standing ovation, and your partner attacks you after you guys hug (Tommaso Ciampa attacks Johnny Gargano)

Bottomline is you were attacked and now your significant other/best friend is angry

Hook

Mans is big mad; like big big mad

You thought he was trying to whip Jack’s ass? Wait until he sees you get attacked

Man will jump over your body real quick to try to punch your former tag partner (if they are a male)

^^might get a heart attack to be honest from him leaping

Will immediately carry backstage as your former tag partner runs to the back

Is simmering with anger as you try to convince you’re okay

“I’m happy that you’re okay. I just really wanna kill that son of a bitch”

Does not take this matter lightly, especially after Jack betraying him

If you wanna get your lick back, just let him and he’ll take care of everything

Ricky Starks

Just like Hook, he would take this shit so seriously (cause of Hobbs betraying him)

But also I feel like he would understand the former partner’s stance as he betrayed Brian Cage (ew)

Will comfort you as you have multiple emotions running through your mind

“They’re missing out on a friendship with a bombass, beautiful, fierce, strong, athletic, and great person….and you too.”

I think he would be the type to transform you (ring gear, style, promos) so you can show your former partner that you’re simply better (nail emoji)

Like I’m talking early 2000s movie montage

Ricky would definitely help you plan your revenge

Overall, I believe this man would help you get back on your feet

Darius Martin

His heart would break for you and would be the one to sprint out to help you out of the ring and up the ramp

Darius is a very loyal person as he frequently rotates between AR Fox, Matt Sydal, his brother, and Action Andretti for tag partner

Will always offer a place on his team for you

“You know you always got me and the boys.”

Will take his thoughts to Twitter just to shit on them

I also think Darius will make it his mission to make sure that you were well taken care of; advises you to choose peace before violence

But if too much violence takes place; he’s walking out with a steel chair and zero fucks to give

Eddie Kingston

THIS MAN??? HE DOESNT CARE WHO THEY ARE; THEY’RE GETTING THEIR ASS CHEWED UP, SPAT OUT, AND BEAT TF UP

Will again blame Claudio, Bryan, and Punk for everything (don’t let him find out they joined BCC)

I think he would take this more personally than you, especially if they joined with his enemies

“FUCK THAT LOW DOWN, SLIMY, SWISS CHEESE BITCH! AND BRYAN TOO, THAT TECHNICAL ASS BITCH! I’ll stab them dawg don’t worry”

Eddie is the type to ride or die for his people; so he is one of the first people to stand with you against the traitor

Is absolutely down for revenge or crazy plans

“I still got that gasoline can if you need dawg.”

Daniel Garcia

Will immediately offer you a place in JAS (like I always say, PLEASE say NO)

But also with the way JAS is right now, he would take time to team with you; so he can also find peace

Will be smug toward your former teammate

“Listen here, Y/N is a talented person and you’re gonna wish you didn’t cross them.” Dances away

Like stated earlier, I think he would take this time to fully understand his position with his own teammates

Daniel would be your #1 cheerleader on Twitter and tag them in various posts shitting on them (like Darius)

Will give you advice on how to carry on and will try to convince you to be a sports entertainer

MJF

THIS MOTHERFUCKER

Always had a feeling that it was coming, but he wouldn’t tell you and is angry with the entire situation

Has to keep in character on Twitter:

“Look, I understand that Y/N loses a lot, isn’t as good as me, and has terrible taste in tag partners but that doesn’t mean you had to dump em!”

Will lecture about how you shouldn’t really trust anyone but yourself in the business, but empathizes with you (if he can) about having friends and supportive people

Like Daniel, might take this time to reflect

Will devise a revenge plan that involves sabotaging your former tag partner’s plans/goals

“Babe, I’m the devil. I can make anything happen.”

Kenny Omega

Like most people on this list, Kenny has experienced being on both sides of this situation; so he completely understands the feelings involved

Will offer you a spot in the Elite (that can go either way)

I think because of the fact that he has a lot going on with himself, he would let you do whatever you want

Is more emotional support than physical support at the moment

Will help further the storyline of your revenge and character development on BTE

Outta all the people on this list, he would give you the best advice

“I think you need to take some time for yourself and see what is in the future for you…and if the answer is revenge, make sure you have money aside for bail…for me.”

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myguidingmoon-light · 6 months

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“And she brought forth her firstborn son, and wrapped him in swaddling clothes, and laid him in a manger; because there was no room for them in the inn.” (Luke 2:7)

No room. That’s something I’ve heard too much lately. Palestinians have been hearing that for 75 years. Since they were driven out of their homes—more than 700 000 of them—in 1948 to make room for the colony of Israel, there has been less and less room every day. Less land, literally, as even though lines and walls have been drawn over the years, Israel continues to illegally settle in Palestinian land. Less room to breathe, as the population of Gaza grew within the illegal blockade walling them into a tiny strip of land. Less room to live now, as Gaza has been under constant attack by Israeli bombs and guns and while the civilians of Gaza are pushed by this violence into even smaller and smaller “safe zones” (though there is nowhere safe in Gaza right now).

But also no room our conversations. No room in our imagination. No room in our understanding of our world of “human rights” and “developed nations.” You’d think “Palestinian” is a slur for how quickly it shuts up (or heats up) dialogue. These are our neighbours, and it feels like pulling teeth to get people to engage with their humanity—let alone ask their MP to ask our government to ask Israel’s government to please stop bombing civilians for the third month straight.

Today we recognize when a Jewish Palestinian family was forced by the state to leave their home, shelter in unfit terrain, give birth without proper medical care, survive a massacre, and become refugees. We Christians call the baby born in that family Emmanuel, which means God with us. God was born in Bethlehem, behind the border wall, in an occupation. What does that tell us about who God is?

Our Christian siblings in Palestine have asked us not to let this Christmas pass as usual. To that, I ask, what is Christmas as usual? If we don’t see our neighbours in the story of Jesus, what is the point? If we need to put the real, genuine injustices of the world out of our mind so that we can be comforted by Christmas, we are frankly doing it wrong. The point—the whole point—is that love and justice are possible for the unloved and the oppressed, even when it doesn’t feel that way. It is our responsibility to make that happen, and we can’t do that with our eyes closed.

You should feel uncomfortable about celebrating Christmas while a genocide is going on. We need to have room for that. We also need to have room for the hope that Christmas represents. We need to have room in our hearts for justice, lasting peace, and a free Palestine, because we are all needed to make it a reality.

And for God’s sake, CEASEFIRE NOW!

“He has brought down the mighty from their thrones/ and exalted those of humble estate;/ he has filled the hungry with good things,/ and the rich he has sent away empty.” (Luke 1:52-53)

I am indebted to Rev. Munther Isaac for his wisdom in helping so many of us walk through this time. Personally, I just finished his book “The Other Side of the Wall”—if you are a Christian, you have to read this book. I’ll buy you a copy if you want.

I also want to note that this post isn’t really supposed to be an explainer or an argument. I didn’t cite anything here, but if you’re curious about anything I referenced (e.g. why did I bring up medical care?), send me a message and I’d be happy to give you more details about what’s happening in Palestine. I’m no expert, but I know some people just genuinely don’t know the extent of the injustice and don’t know where to learn more; if you have questions I’m happy to help, but I’m not here to fight with you.

Same deal if you want to help but don’t know how. I’m happy to give you some ideas and even help you out with them (distance permitting). One important action you can always take is contacting your Member of Parliament. You don’t have to write anything fancy—just tell them honestly how you’re feeling and ask them to support an urgent ceasefire. This is literally your right as a Canadian, so you don’t have to worry about doing something wrong.

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fuck-customers · 7 months

Note

TW for transphobia and christianity

So might be a long one I just want a place to write this whole shit show of what happened to me out

So it starts out as normal, customer misgenders me multiple times. But he decided to ask what I said, so I decided fuck it I’m already moody might as well risk it because I don’t care. And got greeted with a king reminder as to why I don’t compromise with transphobes.

A second customer proceeds to make me repeat myself three times acting like they misheard me, and either decided to stop pretending because I wasn’t giving in or I managed to speak clearly enough that she understood. The first prick them started going on a rant talking about a god that I don’t believe in made me a certain way. The same one that supposedly gave us free will.

I’m very much NOT sorry to say that got me to say “LEAVE, please!” to a customer for the first time EVER

Second prick decided to act like a white knight and justify the previous douchebag’s actions by calling it “Southern politeness.” Which I clearly didn’t agree with so she proceeded to say “Then I’ll call you an it!”

Obviously she wanted to escalate the situation because I don’t think she’s shit brained stupid to NOT expect me to be pissed at that. She c proceeded to ask what I was superseded to be called so I showed her my pin.

The brain rotted fool decided to try to justify the self important prick by saying “He couldn’t see that!” Sure, like he would’ve acted any different? Mr. “God Made You A Certian Way”? Because you’re both too stupid to figure out what I meant through context? Because me correcting you because hey, sometimes people genuinely don’t see!, is apparently the same as attacking you or whatever?

She proceeded to accuse me of throwing her stuff (which I honestly don’t remember if I did or not), and the manager came over to see why some customers were saying I was having a problem with Asshole 1 and 2. She immediately was on my side when I said “A customer called me an it”.

Same Queen Prick decided to call to complain about me throwing her bags, and the manager came to ask with rage in her voice. I was nervous about that but she was apparently mad at the customer, not me. And I guess other customers were on my side because they told her the same thing about the other two being douchebags to me. Anyway Manager said that she doesn’t care how busy she is, if people are assholes to me again in the future to call her to deal with them

Posted by admin Rodney.

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larkspurglove · 1 month

Text

Wow 2.2 absolutely stuck the landing for the Penacony arc. Anyway spoiler heavy thought dump below

AVENTURINE’S ALIVE YIPPEE!!! He cannot catch a fucking break though, bro has a chance of being demoted or kicked out of the stonehearts, and then Boothill breaks into his room and aims a gun at him. Get my man a vacation please.

Anyway GOD I LOVE HOW THEY DID THE TWIST. Misha manifesting in reality has irked me since I first noticed that only the trailblazer sees him, because him being a memory zone meme made 100% sense except for that one little piece of info.

While it’s a bit sad that Boothill and Black Swan aren’t actually travelling with us, the fake ending felt weirdly jarring but also convincing enough that for a second I doubted myself and thought it was the real ending.

The use of end credits gives me a heart attack each time but it’s really funny, although there are a few things I noticed in there.

1) Gallagher’s actor is listed as Penacony???

2) ‘Dreammaster’ as Sunday’s servant, then Gopher Wood as Dreammaster. Like what does that mean

This shit was terrifying. This was the moment that made me think ‘this is lowkey Sumeru all over again’ but this time instead of power hungry sages you have several OP people in one area and a sad Christian bird boy running the show.

(By the way this ALSO ALSO made me realise that Aventurine’s eyes are like Ena the Order’s one giant eye. What’s up with that)

Argenti showing up scared the shit out of me but it was kinda funny. However I don’t know if this happened to anyone else but he just didn’t have a voice when he showed up. As in there was just zero speech, just the text.

Also ACHERON’S NAME IS RAIDEN BOSENMORI MEI WAHOO!!! All we’re missing is a Kiana expy and then we have the hi3 trio in hsr.

As for Sunday and Robin doomed by the narrative siblings auahshshdhehsjshdh. When I’m more awake I’m going to write a ten page essay on Sunday’s characterisation and how his faith pulls from Christianity/Catholicism/etc. Like it’s genuinely such a good use of Christian-type belief I’m going insaneeeeee.

Boothill is so silly I adore him. Just a silly guy. Sure he is threatening to kill Aventurine but like he’s silly.

Gallagher being a History Fictionologist was unexpected but also makes so much sense. I’m still kinda concerned about how many people refer to him as a dog in a seemingly literal sense but we’ll unpack that later. Also it makes him showing up and saving Firefly from getting arrested even funnier tbh. Cause like, I thought the stowaway the Bloodhounds were looking for was Boothill, but since Gallagher’s a Fictionologist he just fucking lied and it came true. Iconic.

What interesting about Penacony and the Xianzhou is that they both deal with death, but the Xianzhou deals with the concepts of immortality and the consequences of trying to outlive your death, while Penacony’s messaging is that death and hardship is inevitable but life isn’t worth living if you’re not willing to withstand those tragedies.

By the way I’m 1000% sure that the ‘puppets’ during Sunday’s transformation into the Dominous thingy aren’t metaphorical stand ins for the hundred thousand something Oak Family members but literal stand ins. Unless proven otherwise I think Sunday killed those guys to power up the Order death machine. There’s another universe where Hoyo doesn’t have to worry about censorship and there’s just dead bodies being moved around like puppets, trust me I’m John Hoyoverse.

There’s still a lot of loose ends to wrap up and while I’m 100% certain that 2.3 is gonna be ‘oh fuck the IPC is on Penacony’ I really hope these are resolved. Off the top of my head some of them are

Sunday and Robin’s relationship

The consequences of Sunday’s actions

Where the fuck Aventurine was if he was just in the Reef place the entire time he was ‘dead’

What the IPC actually want with Penacony (it’s probably either for profit or for dead aeon remains)

How Gallagher ended up on Penacony/how he became a Fictionologist

Is Misha still around???

Whether the absence of Order followers scheming is gonna stop the dreamscape from collapsing or not

WHERE IS FIREFLY

What the consequences of summoning a bunch of Galaxy Rangers to Penacony will be

WHERE IS ACHERON

Some of these might already be answered but this quest was like six hours long and that was with me speed-reading most of the dialogue and now it’s 1 am in the morning. I do not have enough brainpower for this shit.

I can’t wait for 2.3 the ‘Sunday goes to jail and the IPC get harassed by a Cowboy’ arc

#honkai star rail #hsr #hsr spoilers #Penacony spoilers #2.2 spoilers #lark rambles #lark talks lore

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milogreer · 2 months

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4/10 EA spoilers 💖

where the fuck do i even begin??

COCKY AND CONDESCENDING. THIS IS EXACTLY WHAT I WANTEDDDD

sweet lips, sweet cheeks, sweets, SWEETNESS?! the way he danced around ‘sweetheart’ for so long

“i’m about to ruin your fuckin’ life.”

i feel so personally attacked and absolutely over the fucking moon at sweetheart having a fainting/panic attack. LIKE JUST FOR ME ? i said just a few days ago that that was the audio that locked him into my top spot!! what the fuck!!

like the way his demeanor flipped on a dime from “i’m gonna ruin your life you little department rat” to “jesus christ don’t pass out, breathe with me” RGHFJH. jesus

porter mention????

using ‘sweetheart’ for the first time after helping them calm down nearly killed me. a lot of this audio nearly killed me but that especially

talbot pack?? is asher alpha in TWO universes?? please for the love of god tell me christian is his beta. please i think that’d be so funny

the snapping and the “ah-ah!” warning noise . CEASE

THE WALK ON THE WILD SIDE CALLBACK i am going to go INSANE. insane!!!

“you gotta earn that, baby” ………

so um 🧍🏼‍♀️ yeah i mean i guess it was okay…. it was fine…. <- already relistening to it again

#i feel like there are bees in my chest i feel like bouncing off the walls #what the fuck. he met every standard. GOD #sweetheart.txt #redacted audio #redacted asmr #ea spoilers #redacted spoilers #milo

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uniquevoidflowers · 8 months

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This is a fic based off of @kikker-oma's whumptober art!!! Please go check that out first!

Wind walked up to the captain, fists clenched as he tried not to sob. He stood there for a few seconds, glaring at his older brother. “Something on your mind there, sailor?” Warriors croaked.

Wind’s shoulders shook as his fist tightened even more. “You’re a liar.” He spat.

Warriors took a shaky breath. Wind didn’t acknowledge him, caught up in his own anger. “Sailor, please—“

“SHUT UP! I-I thought he would be okay!” Wind screamed.

“He will be.” Warriors mumbled.

The sailor couldn’t stop the tears that flowed down his face. He didn’t know exactly why he was so angry, maybe it was because Warriors couldn’t be telling the truth. Wind had seen the state of Time, the old man that he had clung to constantly for warmth and safety. “How do you know t-that?!” Wind hiccuped.

Warriors was trembling, the rod in his hands shaking. “He can’t die on us…he just can’t…”

“I KNEW IT! You…You don’t have a real reason…!” Wind screamed and stormed off.

“Sailor w-wait!” The captain called, pain laced into his voice.

The kid didn’t listen and walking became full-blown sprinting as he rushed into the forest. Tears flew out of his face and made his vision blurry and then he stumbled to the ground, catching himself with his hands. His hands and knees stung as he rubbed his hands together gently trying to alleviate some of the pain. “Please Hylia if you’re hearing this…let Warriors be right…let Time…” He broke off at the end.

The sailor never really prayed but he was willing to if it meant the old man would survive. He curled into himself and swallowed back sobs.

(“NO!” Twilight cried out and everyone jerked around just in time to see the old man slam into the ground.)

He buried his head into his arms.

(“Pay attention sailor!” Someone yelled at him and he deflected attacks from enemies, pale from the words he heard spilling out of the captain’s mouth.)

Silence rang in his ears as he tried desperately to shove the images out of his mind.

(Once the dust settled the sailor couldn’t help but run to see what had happened and he found Time lying on the ground, blood pooling beneath him. His breath caught in his throat.)

“N-no…” He whispered to himself.

(Someone grabbed his hand and pulled him away as Warriors yelled Time’s name over and over again. He struggled against whoever was holding him but they had a tight and firm grasp.)

His wrists were sore suddenly.

(“What’s going on?!” Wind screeched. “Time got hurt but Warriors is healing him. Everything will be okay.” The someone tried to soothe. “Stop talking to me like that!”)

The anger in his heart only grew, at the tones that everyone was using with him. He was a hero dammit.

(“I want the truth!” Wind urged. No one answered. “PLEASE!” He yelled.)

He shuddered.

(“We need to move, quickly!” Warriors shouted, scooping the old man into his arms. Wind’s blood ran cold at the sight of the Hero of Time.)

“Wind?”

“L-leave me alone.” The sailor rasped.

Arms wrapped around him instead and he saw the captain there, eyes shining and a heartbreaking frown on his face. Wind felt something in his heart that he didn’t quite recognize. “I’m tired of you guys treating me like a little kid.”

“We’re not trying…it’s just…hard not to.” Warriors sighed.

“How so?” Wind asked, and his voice is so small, barely audible.

“If you saw, say, Legend as a kid, younger than you, and he was about to see this gory mess of a man that he loves, would you let him?” Warriors asked.

That…actually made a lot of sense. “No.” He murmured.

The captain sighed with empathy. “We’re doing our best to help Time, okay?”

“I know…I’m sorry…” Wind wailed and held tighter unto Warriors.

“It’s okay. It’ll be okay, I promise.” Warriors soothed.

Wind let the captain guide him back to camp where he saw Time in bandages, lying limply on a bedroll. Hyrule was passed out next to him. The sailor put a hand to his mouth in dismay. Warriors sighed deeply, catching a glimpse of what Wind saw and then pulled the kid away towards a different bedroll. Wind had just realized the sky was dark, and it was nighttime. “Good night sailor.” Warriors whispered.

“Night.” Wind smiled slightly and crept into his bedroll, grateful for the warmth it provided him.

________________ -/- _________________

“NO!” Twilight cried out and everyone jerked around just in time to see the old man slam into the ground.

He froze, what-ifs running through his mind. “Pay attention sailor!” Someone yelled at him and he deflected attacks from enemies, pale from the words he heard spilling out of the captain’s mouth.

The battle continued, Wind fighting and giving the occasional glance at the unmoving Time. Once the dust settled the sailor couldn’t help but run to see what had happened and he found Time lying on the ground, blood pooling beneath him. His breath caught in his throat. “Time?” He whispered.

Someone grabbed his hand and pulled him away as Warriors yelled Time’s name over and over again. He struggled against whoever was holding him but they had a tight and firm grasp.

“What’s going on?!” Wind screeched.

“Time got hurt but Warriors is healing him. Everything will be okay.” The someone tried to soothe.

“Stop talking to me like that!” Wind demanded, trying again and again to free his wrists.

“I want the truth!” Wind urged.

No one answered. “PLEASE!” He yelled.

“Wind—“

“We need to move, quickly!” Warriors shouted, scooping the old man into his arms.

Wind’s blood ran cold at the sight of the Hero of Time. Everything was burned into his eyes, and he wanted answers. He wanted to know everything that had just happened. Why were they ignoring him? His throat felt dry as tears streamed down his pale face. There was an uncomfortable silence as they rushed to find a place to stay or set up camp, the only sounds were rain pouring and boots hitting the drenched ground. Wind didn’t dare speak up, he didn’t want to be babied even more. He caught another glimpse of the old man and realized just how awful it was. There were arrows sticking out of his back and a stab wound in his chest. Wind had trouble keeping full-blown sobs from arising.

________________-/-________________

Wind awoke with a gasp, and looked around to see the one and only captain on watch. He saw everyone else sleeping soundly in their bedrolls. Warriors eyes had no light in them, he just stared at the crackling flames. “Captain?” Wind murmured.

Warriors startled and looked over. “Hey, you should be asleep sailor. Is everything okay?” Warriors asked, concern clear in his features.

“I’m okay, just worried. What about you?” He asked, eyeing the man.

“I’m fine, we’ll get through this. Just like we did with the rancher.” Warriors looked away, recalling that episode.

“You sure?” Wind furrowed his eyebrows.

“Yeah. Go back to sleep sailor.” Warriors urged.

Wind wanted to press further, but he didn’t know if that would help the captain. So he sighed and defeatedly walked back to his bedroll. But there was something up with Warriors, and Wind had a gut feeling it was very bad.

#linked universe #lu wind #lu warriors #lu time #kind of #guys warriors isnt okay #also time survives dw #but he gives everyone a rlly good scare #my writing #linked universe fanfic

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ewanmitchelll · 10 months

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Imagine you are a younger sister to Uhtred Ragnarsson who is rescued by Osferth when a Viking nobleman decides to make Uhtred suffer by kidnapping you. The result? You and Osferth fall in love.

Warnings: long post// explicit smut // *fluff*

***

Your name is Y/N Uhtreddottir. You have been raised with little significance by your father within the four walls of Bebbanburg. Even so, your brother, who was baptized as Uhtred after your eldest brother died, always looked after you.

By the time your uncle usurped Uhtred’s inheritance, you had been swept away for a safe place by Father Beocca. In fact, you were fully raised at King Ælfred’s court, who started to plan a betrothal for you when Uhtred came to your life again and thought you deserved better.

Just like that you left the luxuries and comfort of the king’s religious court and started to spend some time within Uhtred’s own friends—although you found the Danes a bit wild for your liking, you got eventually used to their company.

So here you are, following Uhtred’s steps with his friends. You are already acquainted with Brida and Ragnar, treating them fondly. And it’s right in the midst of such people where you now meet a monk.

“Little sis”, says Uhtred arrogantly as usual. “Amidst our group, you might be pleased to know there is rather a Christian within us.”

You raise your eyebrows.

“Why, Uhtred, must you always reinforce the fact I was educated a Christian as if this was not my destiny? I thought you said yourself that destiny is all, didn’t you?”

Uhtred pulls a face at you.

“Well, Y/Nickname, you could have been raised better, but I must not complain since the Gods spared you and we are reunited. But either way I will ignore your mockeries for your own good.” Saying so he pulls a younger male next to his side and smiles. “This is our baby monk. Osferth, meet my sister, Y/N.”

You giggle softly at how he is addressed, but the moment he raises his eyes, looking shy—you are speechless. There is something so tender around him, so kind, so good….

Oh no.

“My lady”, Osferth mumbles, avoiding eye contact. “I am mostly pleased to meet you.”

“As am I”, you respond in the same tone, detesting how easily you seem transfixed by his presence, so ethereal to you. “Where do you come from, lord?”

“I am no lord, m’lady”, he protests in a whisper. “I am merely me.”

But Uhtred breaks the spell by intruding with a snort:

“Oh please! He is the natural son of Ælfred.”

You raise your eyes epically.

“Ælfred? What Ælfred?”

Uhtred folds his arms when looking at you.

“Who do you think am I talking about, sister dear? This is not a very common name, specially amongst the Danes.”

“Or the Saxons of the North”, muses Osferth.

“Aye”, Uhtred agrees. “That king, overly zealous if you ask my opinion, and I am not attributing any sobriquet that might twist his reputation, felt guilty for fornicating and as a result sent his son away.”

“Oh”, you frown. “That is cruel. I lament it profoundly, Osferth.”

“I don’t”, says Uhtred. “He’s useful to us, isn’t he?”

You cast an apologetic glance towards Osferth, as if you could transmit him how sorry you are for the rude manners of your brother. Osferth, however, merely chuckles low and says:

“It is the will of the Lord and it’s wonderful in our eyes.”

“And here we go with the Christian crap again”, says Brida. “I’m out.”

Before you start to plan a way to get yourself closer to Osferth, however, an unusual event comes to your path. In that same day, a group of danes decide to raid against your brother. Naturally, it is a surprise attack which means this has been planned and there might possibly be a traitor amongst the folk Uhtred surrounded himself to.

No matter. The damage is done. You are terrified: having been raised as a lady in waiting by the king’s wife you are no warrior. A damsel, you find yourself in the midst of strange adventures, specially when raptors take you from his sight.

Just like that you are gone, made unconscious—for these are dangerous lads, sworn enemies of Uhtred, to deal with—as you are knocked down. No harm is done to you.

But a damsel in distress you are… and this is too much for some men to bear.

***

Osferth watches quietly as Uhtred, reasonably so, shows his discontent. He feels, rightly so, betrayed and is trying to find out the unfortunate person who attacked his honor.

However, leaving personal sentiments aside, his angst only grew intense when being told of your kidnapping.

Exasperated, he merged into despair. But Osferth, himself shaken to core, seems to find an atypical spirit of bravery when offering to pursuit you and bring you back alive, safe and sound.

“What are you saying?”, Uhtred asks him, perplexed. “Do you hear yourself, Osferth? Y/N was taken by someone who outwitted us.”

“Nothing is impossible for the follower of Christ Our Savior and Lord…”

“Oh please”, Brida meddles in with a heavy sigh. “Not that martyr crap again.”

“It is more than being martyred, lady”, Osferth insists anxiously. “Tis a quest upon which I must prove my worth. Give me this opportunity, sire. You shall not be disappointed.”

Uhtred is about to retort when Ragnar comes up with a better plan that pleases both sides. It is drawn such as this: the party will be divided in three; the first group of men is to lead the way as to attract the attention of their enemies, openly inviting them for a fight. This will open the pave so the other group takes their household and, as requested, Osferth has the lady rescued.

“Little wonder why people look up at you”, says Brida in awe.

“It is a good plan”, agrees Uhtred, reluctantly brought to reason. “But we must leave as soon as possible. I cannot tolerate…”

“Peace, brother. We must think before act. This plan will fail if we are imprudent”, says Ragnar.

And that is how it starts the plan to rescue Y/N Uhtreddottir.

***

You are located somewhere in Yorvic, locked up at a castle of rocks, praying every evening that no man touches you.

The Lord seems to be pleased with your piety, for your prayers are attended. This man, whom you suppose to be named Guthrid or something similar, is making sure that you remain untouched.

Since you are unable to speak Danish there is little you can do but to wait patiently, praying your brother rescues you soon. You decide to occupy yourself with prayers and sewing, watching from your prison window the day turn into night, appreciating, however, the few glimpses of freedom once you are brought to the river to clean yourself.

It is when suddenly this new routine suffers an immediate change. You are close to sleep in your old maid gown when you hear a strange noise—not one of the kind you’ve forced yourself to costume your ears—that promptly startles you.

Has their patience ran thin? Oh Lord.

But to your pleasant surprise it is a rescuer that comes to your sight, not otherwise.

“Osferth!”, you squeak when seeing him.

“Shh, lady. Silence is in our favor, come, come. We must not take long”, so he whispers.

You nod eagerly, prompted to do as he requests. Although embarrassed for leaving in an old, yellow-ish nightgown, there is no time to change robes as time is running out. One never knows how deep is the sleep of one’s captors, so it’s best not to take risk.

Soon, however, Osferth mounts in his dark horse and you ar right in front of him. You both don’t speak, holding your breaths for fear of being caught.

As he gallops fast and a noise is heard from a safe distance—indicating your escape has been discovered—, Osferth breaks the silence.

“My lady, your brother is avenging you”, his voice is husky like the wind, though soften than breeze. You smile to yourself. “Do forgive us for taking some time in rescuing you.”

“The Lord works in mysterious ways”, you answer him softly. “I am only content that my prayers were heard.”

Osferth smiles at you, pleased to find you a pious damsel. It is still dark, but you could capture the first rays of the dawn.

“Do you know where we are going?”, you ask him.

“To a safe place, lady. There is a lord nearby Kent, within the walls of Mercia, that owns a castle. He is loyal to Uhtred, so we can stay there. At least until all of us are reunited”, Osferth explains.

“I appreciate it. Many thanks for rescuing me, lord.”

“I was being only an instrument to Jesus our Lord”, he answers.

Too restless to stay quiet, the thread motivates your talkative side.

“Are you not afraid of the dark, lord?”

“Nay, lady, for I am familiar with this road”, says the man confidently. “It is the King’s road I tend to follow. Far more trustworthy than other’s.”

“We ought to be mindful of wayward men nearby…”, you muse uneasy.

Osferth smiles, always looking ahead of him.

“There is little need to be concerned, lady. I am not letting any harm to befall you.”

Somehow his words make your heart at ease. It takes no more than a few hours before you reach the castle Osferth told you about.

***

The landowner receives you well. Giving you fancy robes that belonged to his late wife, you now occupy her privy bedchambers. It is indeed a fanciful castle, exhibiting a kind of richness that you don’t remember seeing at the king’s court.

All the while you begin to settle, Osferth remains at your side. The aforementioned lord had informed Osferth and you that he should keep you two safe until Uhtred’s personal war ends.

You can tell it frustrates lord Osferth, much to your internal disappointment.

“Well, lord. As a good knight, you should better rest before taking another quest to come. Let me tend you so I shall return you the favor you bestowed upon me by rescuing me from such evil men.”

“Lady, I had no intention in offending you. Forgive me if it seemed so”, says he, suddenly shy. “To have you brought to this castle safe and sound is a divine task to which I praise Lord for delivering it with no risks for the both of us. I was merely wishing I could borrow your brother my sword and to him be useful.”

You smile at his gallant manners.

“Well, lord, there are plenty of manners a knight such as yourself can be useful. For now, however, it is most wise to rest your energies before your lordship is called upon duty once more.”

“The lady is prudent”, muses the landowner.

As promised, you start tending his needs. You sew new robes to Osferth, earning his admiration at your skills with a needle—and you blush delightedly when he replaces his old robes for the new ones you make for him—, you prepare his bath and make sure to pray next to his side.

When the two of you are not spending the company at the landowner’s side or parting of his feast, Osferth finds himself pleased to walk with you around the gardens.

Soon, time begins to grow the fruition of a seed planted months ago. You and Osferth start discovering common tastes that go beyond piety and knightly values.

One day, though, as he watches you dance with other ladies, the landowner chuckles and says, as he raises his goblet.

“Lord, if I had not known you any better, I’d say you are besotted.”

Osferth furrows his eyebrows, but mutters a not so convincing protest.

“Why, the lady seems to correspond your fondness. Life is too short to shield your heart with pride, boy. Go ahead and court her”, says he who attends by the name of H/N.

“Lord, I see I have little argument to resist reason. However, she is my lord’s sister. I could not…”

“Nonsense”, the other interrupts him. “I shall speak to Uhtred. Do not mind that.”

Osferth hesitates. But one more sip of his wine and one more glance you cast him, he is suddenly urged by professing his sentiments to you.

***

It is late night. Osferth hesitates as he accompanies you to your bedchambers. There is an awkward silence hanging between you two after you bubbled about the dancing of tonight’s feast.

“Lord”, you muse it after a while when you finally get to your door. “Was I impertinent? Please forgive me if…”

“Nay, lady”, he interrupts you, sounding more agitated than his usual self. “I.. This is not it. I… I wish…”

You pale. Your mind seems not to comprehend what’s happening.

“Have I offended you in any manner, Osferth?”

And suddenly, just like that, words slip out of his tongue.

“It is my wish to espouse you, lady”, he whispers, lowering his eyes, though his hands are eagerly pursuing yours to hold. “I am unworthy of the greatest prize of world, which is your heart, but I dare to reclaim it. I promise you that although I have no significant surname, I…”

You barely have to think twice.

“Aye.”

Osferth could not believe his luck. His eyes, when raising again and meeting yours, go wide.

“What?”

“I take you as my husband, Osferth.”

His smile spreads before you throw your hands around his neck and press a soft kiss against his cheek. But right as you do, his face turns and you meet his lips instead.

You shiver at this first contact, but you do not shy away. Neither does Osferth.

***

This is more than a moment where the eyes speak words that no tongue can reach, for this is when two souls meet.

Osferth is as taken by you as you are taken by him. Beneath the glimpse of the moonlight that crosses through the courtins of your bedchambers, he is completely mesmerized as you lean closer to him, your fingers already unlacing his shirt.

"Don't, lady", he whispers, aching in desire as your delicate fingertips move from each muscle of his arms, shoulders and neck before slowly going below. "Let me do this first".

How he begs you moves with your body. You are patient as Osferth carefully places himself behind you, so he can enjoy a better view. You giggle as he intercalates soft kisses in your cheek and jaw with his fingers loosing your braided hair.

But every smirk dies the moment he holds your waist and kisses your neck, taking a long while in letting his tongue taste your skin.

"Lady", he humms, smirking when you start moaning softly; pleased to see you discovering these new sensations, Osferth is aroused in sharing such an experience with you. "Are you enjoying it?"

As he starts unlacing your nightgown, Osferth takes his time in denuding you. Had you turned your head in the slightest, you’d see his eyes shining with lust, devouring you just by admiring your y/c skin.

Yet, however aroused you too are, you are patient. As he slowly removes it, he now leans his chin over your right shoulder. Eyeing your full breasts, Osferth himself gets rigid in his pants.

“God, you are a gift from Heavens. Such a beauty…”, he whispers against your skin when he slowly moves his fingers from your hair to your neck, going to your arms before finally taking hold of each nipple.

“Osferth!”, you exclaim louder than you expected, head back against his shoulder as you experience such a great sensation, loving him with every bit of your flesh.

“Yes, my love”, he groans against your ear, finding almost unbearable to remain motionless when you are giving yourself to him like that. To feel your nipples hardening under his touch is already making his manhood ache. “Tell me… How do you find this of your liking?”

You arch lightly your back, rubbing one leg against the other due to the friction it gives you. Seeing it so, Osferth instinctly tosses away your gown, shushing your silent protests with a kiss before going back to your full breasts with his hands.

Yet now he moves another hand right to the between of your legs and seeing how soaked you are, both of you share a sloppy, moaning and lustful kiss.

He grins lightly at how impatient you are, trying to turn back at him so you can kiss him better and have him all over you. But Osferth is patient, nonetheless; he likes to take his time.

“Osferth…”, you whimper.

“Aye?”, he bites down your lip, smiling broadly at your reaction. “Say it, love. Come to me.”

You give up trying to turn at him, instead letting your body being under his control. As he inserts one and then two fingers in a slowly, but intensely move that makes you breathless… You soon arch your back, your legs are lifted almost out of control and you shake under his touch, much to his delight.

“Heavens!”, he groans, now kissing you fervently as he lays you down. “Perfection, Lady Y/N. Oh!”

“You are mine, and mine alone”, you vow, breathlessly, helping remove his pants and soon getting your hands at his manhood. “Please, Osferth. Please, let me feel you like you felt me.”

Before he could think twice, however, you are faster with your hands. It arouses you further to feel him with your delicate hands.. Never before had you held it.

“Let me help my lady”, he mumbles hotly, getting himself straight so he can show you how it’s done. Osferth smirks at your effort, pleased to see you enjoy taking it as much as he does when being taken. “Oh God.”

“Is it good?”, you ask him innocently, though there is no innocence in your eyes.

Osferth throws his head back at his pillow in response, his cut short breathing giving you a positive response. You feel yourself wet again as you please him, finding his manhood dripping wet as you make circular moves or when it’s throbbing under your delicate fingers.

You want him to come undone, and perhaps you are going on a similar fate. This is lust, a thought occurs you; the very type of lust the king’s wife would admonish you for. You would be a sinner, and a part of your conscience reprehends you for behaving in such a manner.

However, no thought ever reaches your heart the moment your name is out of your lips. No reason can argue it when he rolls his eyes, groaning under his breath. Nothing can dissociate you from the joy of making him feel the same climax he did to you.

You are still admiring the liquid that comes from his manhood when you are surprised by the urgency of his lips against yours. Suddenly he is all over you, your bodies are now linked as one.

“My lady”, he moans in between feverish kisses. “I have longed for you night and day”.

“As have I”, you admit it, holding him close against you. “I love you, Osferth.”

He stops a moment to contemplate the color that paints your eyes and smiles. His smile spreads when touching your face before wrapping his fingers around your curls. You blush at such an intimacy.

“I love you, Y/N. You are my lady”, he says firmly, leaning to kiss you slowly before the two of you lock hands and finally start making love.

***

By the time Uhtred had arrived, you and Osferth had secretly married—or perhaps not entirely secret since Lord H/N helped making all official, which included a grand feast.

Fearful, however, of how your brother would react to such news, you arrange an excuse to make a visit at a nearby convent. But the plan does not come out as any good as you wish for Uhtred comes sooner than planned.

“Sister dear! Y/nickname!”, he beams upon seeing you. “Riding a well a horse, I see. I almost thought you were running away from me”, he jests.

You blush, startled as you are when his thunderous voice comes to your ears. You dismount the horse and goes to greet him properly. In the end, you realize you have missed him too much to fear him.

Not from afar you reunite with Uhtred, Osferth is met by his friends in turn. It is all very gleeful, indeed, when father Breocca—always him—shares the news that Lady Y/N and Lord Osferth have been lawfully married before God.

“You did WHAT?!”

Uh-oh… Something is not going well, perhaps? Though most of Uhtred’s army is giggling like silly girls, he is too offended to join them. Giving you a look and then at Osferth, he seems to fail to understand what could you possibly have seen in the Baby Monk.

Brida, however, is not cutting any slack of his part. She sighs and says:

“Really now, Ragnarsson? How slow are you? It’s always been crystal clear that they have been attracted to each other. Must be the Christian vibe…”

“Not just that”, you protest shyly. “He is like the knight of the stories I’ve been told about. He is kind, generous, brave and good. He rescued me…”

Uhtred frowns at you, far from pleased. He then points his finger at Osferth, who barely blinks at his anger demonstration.

“You had only ONE job, Osferth!”

“Uhtred, let’s be reasonable…” father Breocca intervenes. “Isn’t it better that Lady Y/N is married to a man of your trust than let King Ælfred use her as his political pawn and thus marry her to some stranger lord?”

Uhtred is still frowning, but little by little every anxiety dies when he comes to reason. His face softens, but his shoulders remain tense when he admits, although unwillingly so:

“I see reason in your words, father. Very well. I give you two my blessing. But we must feast it in the right way.”

He smiles when seeing how relieved you and Osferth are. Uhtred beams and puts the young man to a hug:

“As much I hate to be closely related to that moron king of your father, welcome to the family, Osferth! You better watch over Y/N properly…”

He chuckles quietly and gives you a loving glance, one of the kind that warms your heart.

Now in a merrier scenario, all is well that ends up well.

“I vowed before the Lord and…”, he adds hesitantly (much to Uhtred’s pride, though), “your gods too sir that I will love my dearest Y/N until the day I die.”

“Excellent news! Now let us rejoice and drink!”

Osferth and you are finally left aside as the Lord H/N welcomes your brother and his party. Now alone, you lead him to the gardens, enjoying the peace harmony you’ve accomplished.

“I am glad everything ended perfectly well. It is the will of the Lord and it’s marvelous before our eyes”, you whisper, now gently caressing your husband’s face the moment you two stop under a tree.

“Indeed it is. I am blessed for having you here with me and finally able to call you lady wife”, he smiles warmly at you.

Resting your head against his, with no words but a smile stamped on your face, you move his hand and place it over your belly. Osferth’s eyes go wide.

You two exchange glances as if you speak silently with no words. Then comes the giggling and the embrace.

“A family! Our family! I love you, my lady!” He professes it as he spins you around. “I love you mostly ardently!”

“As I love you with my body and soul”, you whisper back. “We are having our family at long last, my handsome lord husband.”

You are finally living your own fairytale and that is enough for the two of you…

#ewan mitchell #osferth x female reader #osferth smut #baby osferth #baby monk #osferth x y/n #osferth #osferth x fem reader #the last kingdom

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violexides · 2 years

Text

i have never met another Iraqi person that wasn’t family in my entire life and i have never had a Muslim community whatsoever in school online or otherwise and I have to introduce myself as Middle Eastern (if at all since some places still call me white) instead of Iraqi and that people will still guess me being from 10 different ethnic backgrounds over Middle Eastern and that everywhere i go there is permeating Islamophobia that i never really know who my allies are because at the end of the day 9/11 jokes are “more important” than the Islamophobia that followed the event and attacking Christianity with Islam as collateral is “more important” than addressing how suppressed Muslims are in the western world. getting time off for Christmas is “more important” than giving a single day absence from finals/AP tests for Ramadan just one day much less the whole month.

people are more concerned with slandering every Muslim than addressing the fact that there are authoritarian theocratic regimes that kill non-Muslims and addressing that a religion can be inherently harmless and still be used as a weapon by regimes. that forcing people to believe in anything is wrong, what is happening in these governments is a human rights violation at the minimum, and that Muslims out the world are not singlehandedly at fault. but hey whatever makes white people feel performative about human rights crises.

(speaking of human rights crises, there’s a genocide of Muslims that is still happening in China. by the way. that nobody has talked about.)

this isn’t the best wording I’m a little pissed right now but i have been. SO isolated my ENTIRE fucking life. people are only willing to accept Islam for as long as they can to look like an activist and then immediately call me brutal in the face of trying to look performative elsewhere

i’m so sick and so tired and so exhausted of my religion being something to hide. of not being allowed to write about it in college essays because i don’t know who might read it. of having to smile and nod when people call me Latino for the thousandth time even after us knowing one another for 3 years. of trying to tell someone i’m from Iraq and them going “oh like ISIS!” (thanks for that one, zeke.)

i have privilege in this country because i know it is so much worse elsewhere but im so sick and im so tired and I would give up everything in the world just to meet another Iraqi person. and not have to cling to the same book of a short play about Iraqi women in an attempt to substitute for that connection.

okay to reblog. encouraged to reblog, but do whatever the fuck you want its your blog. ps i know that other religions/ethnicities experience intense aggressions too but please do not derail this post. thank you.

#ides.txt #i add that last part knowing its going to get derailed anyway #because nobody wants to talk about Muslims #nobody wants to talk about Iraqis #i feel fucking nauseous i'm so tired. i'm so fucking tired.#and not to mention what its like being a queer Muslim and being from a family where-#actually nevermind on that last bit.

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klein3ngl · 4 months

Note

Hello :D do you have any p1 Dude headcanons?

hi hi.

oh boy, I thought I had a few, but after I sat down to write them just realized I might have a bit too much more than what I’ve expected, haha.

POSTAL 1 DUDE; headcanons

first of all! some headcanons make reference of how he was before the first game, so trying to apply them to the guy who’s terrified, sitting on the floor while hugging his gun would be pretty useless

also, if instead of a hyphen there’s a star it’s to address DID in Dude (I don’t have DID myself and I’m not close to somebody who has DID, all I know is from research I’ve done myself, so if there’s something wrong please tell me.

if you’re not into the DID idea just ignore the stars.

anyway, here we go:

✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪

— Before what happened in 1997 I think he was still a disaster, but a bit more functional.

I’m not gonna dig a lot into how he was while growing up, but he’s an only child that comes from a christian yet dysfunctional family, so after he finally had enough saved money and the legal age he moved to another city (not Paradise) to start again and never looked back, probably with a bit of help coming from Uncle Dave, the only family member that cared about him.

★ P2’s been with him since he was a kid/pre-teen. P1 doesn’t really knows who or what P2 is and at first is pretty much afraid, thinking he’s a demon of some kind. But after a while and seeing how he stands up for him (when he’s unable to defend himself, make friends, etc) and he’s not really trying to harm him he relaxes for a bit.

— He’s always been pretty much a loner, but not to the point to isolate himself completely. He had a tiny group of friends who were also as “weird” as he was who were also into the alternative/goth subculture. Those were probably the best years of his life.

But still, following the last point, I also think he’s one of those people that when they feel bad they isolate themselves for some time and then come back like nothing happened. It usually worked, until it didn’t.

— I have no idea of where I readed I don’t know if it was the Wiki, TV Tropes, in a reddit comment or somewhere else but I think that during the development of “Postal” the Postal Dude was around 27 years old. I don’t know if it’s true, but I’ll go with that.

And, to add some more flavor, I don’t remember if it was Tumblr or Reddit, but somebody had the headcanon that the 14 of November, the day the first game begins, it’s also the Postal Dude’s birthday.

I can’t remember who had such a good idea but I love it way too much, I love angst with all my heart so now it’s my headcanon too.

(if I see the original headcanon again I’ll give credits to the person)

— [ tw // mentions of drugs ] Definitely smokes both cigarettes and weed, but the last one just from time to time. Has tried acid or mushrooms but rather stick to weed.

He hasn’t done crack or anything too heavy, not before 1997.

— He has little to no idea of how to cook. He can do some basic stuff to survive, and he has tried following a recipe in the past, but it’s definitely not his best . Not like he enjoys it either.

— His body: pretty tall. He has a bit of a complex with his height, finding clothes of his size can be complicated and it’s a bit awkward too.

His body is a bit built (he does some work out because of the idea that somebody can attack him at any moment is enough to make him try to learn some self defense alone in his room). Compared to P2 he's has more corporal mass, but not as much as P3 would have. He's an in between. Not skinny but not fat either.

He’s also pretty pale. Not because he can’t get tanned or anything, but because he would rather go out when the sun is already setting or during night or, in general, prefers to stay at his house.

In general he’s one of those people you see on the street and catch your attention: it’s not always that you see a really tall guy with long ginger hair.

— He doesn’t cut his hair because he likes how it looks on him but also because he’s too lazy (and anxious) to go to a hairdresser. He sometimes cuts it himself, and since he has no idea there have been times it ends up disastrous, but since I think his hair is a bit wavy it doesn’t look really bad.

He also doesn’t maintains it really well, he only uses shampoo and, maybe, one of those 3 in one bottles and that’s all. If it’s really cold he dries it with the hairdryer, but rarely does so.

— His handwriting is HORRIBLE. Not like if it’s like hieroglyphics, you can read it, but it’s just really ugly (the diary/war journal entries is how he writes, but since he was pretty stressed and scared it’s a bit more agitated). Also makes too much pressure, not to the point of ripping of the paper but you can feel it on the other face of the sheet surface if you brush it with your hand.

Likes to write for himself, it’s therapeutic and the best way to cope, the less harmful to himself too.

— Following the last point he also likes to make some doodles, especially when bored. Nothing too serious though, the typical thing you do when you’re in class bored and you only have a pen in hand and a paper. You’ll see plenty of them that decorate his notes and diaries. They’re a bit chaotic, his traces being a bit messy.

— If he was accepted in RWS he might have some knowledge about the videogame industry or related. Not sure of what, probably graduated in some studies about it. Maybe a programmer? I dunno.

— Definitely neurodivergent. Either autistic or ADHD. Or both.

His main interests being weapons, movies and videogames. Predilect genres? Terror and horror. He’s not much of a reader though.

On a side note, easily overwhelmed with people he’s not close with touching him (or in general, he’s not opposed to it but would rather if the other person asked for permission) and large crowds, and the main reason he wears he started wearing sunglasses it’s because sensitivity to bright lights.

Still, he’s undiagnosed so he has no clue why he’s like that and why can’t he be normal, sometimes thinking he’s a bit dramatic. His group of friends also had other neurodivergent people who he could rely on so he didn’t feel that bad after all.

— He hated going to clubs for that same reason, even the more alt ones. Too much noise and people. He probably went there because of his friends and enjoyed it for a little while, but would’ve rather been doing anything else.

★ P2 liked it more than him, so when they made plans with their friends he was the one who was in control most part of the time.

— He’s the kind of person that I think would listen to pretty much everything, but definitely his favorite genre is hard rock and metal and its sub-genres: goth metal, black metal, grunge, industrial, you name it. Maybe nu metal it’s not really his thing.

Still, he jams pretty much everything so you could catch him singing a Spicegirls song and he would deny it with his life.

★ It’s in fact P2 who prefers nu metal and wouldn’t care what he’s listening to. Would probably tease P1 about it though.

P2: “You’re listening to Madonna? I thought you didn’t liked pop”

P1: “...shut it”

p2: “Whatever you say edgelord… "LIKE A VIRGIN JUST, LIKE THE VERY FIRST TIME- ♪"”

— He’s bisexual, but still in the closet and pretty deep in there. He has done a few things with other guys but nothing too serious or further than making out probably. Partly because he has some internalized homophobia from the family he comes from (in himself! would never judge or care is one of his close ones was in the queer community) and because generally he sucks at dating.

★ Again, P2 is more open about it than him, and probably the one who had those interactions with other guys, but since P1 was not really uncomfortable with the subject he never went too far.

P2 tried to talk to him about it, but P1 just refuses.

— Also, how did I forgot to mention this? Religious trauma.

Now, he has a weird relationship with his christianity and beliefs, his morals, and how he views himself since he was teached to be a good christian, and he kinda wants to be good at the eyes of God, but at the same time he’s into too many stuff his parents told him they were satanic and bad. He has mixed emotions about it, it’s like he wants to let it go, but he’s unable to do so.

To him the cross he carries around his neck is not for the aesthetic, but he’s not because he’s a good christian either. And when he’s feeling at his worst? It’s like a dog collar, reminding him how all the trauma his family beliefs have harmed him, but at the same time he cannot let it go for some reason. It’s like an abusive relationship both with himself and with his religion, if he even believes in it. It’s complicated to understand? He’s just as confused as you are.

Maybe the problem it’s not the religion itself, maybe it was his family and now because of them he can’t really feel comfortable praying (even if he sometimes finds himself doing so on the nights of rough days) or having a normal relationship with his christianity. Whatever it is, he’s traumatized.

★ And P2 doesn't helps either. He just does not cares about it and when he sees P1 having a breakdown about it, knowing how hard the subject is for him, just prefers to not to get involved, because, anyways, what can he do to help him? He just does not know either, it’s something he has to resolve himself. He cannot help him in everything.

P1 sometimes has called P2 a demon during his attacks, and even if he just ignores it it’s true that it can get annoying after all the times he has tried to help him, and every time they had a fight about it P1 ended up worse, so P2 decided to not get involved any more time for that too.

— I think he’s both shy and introverted, but don’t misinterpret me; not shy in a cute bean who gets all nervous and blushy. No. More in the staring at the person like if he was a deer in front of the lights of a car type of shyness, trying not to get too nervous, and after a few seconds he responds to whatever that person said or asked, hoping it wasn’t too cringy or awkward. He usually gets like that when he’s interested in a person (doesn’t matter if it’s platonic or romantic) and doesn’t want them to get weirded out by him

More introverted than shy, that’s for sure.

— If he’s having a good day his neutral face just looks tired, in his worst I doubt anybody would be able to get to see him because in those days he locks himself in his house and refuses to go out, but if it’s the case (probably the clerk of a shop because he ran out of food) it’s a mix of anger and fear (mainly due paranoia and hallucinations, trying to put and angry face to make the others don’t bother him).

— He could be INFJ (Ni Fe Ti Se) or INTJ (Ni Te Fi Se). If that was the case I think it would be due to Se grip.

I could go more into details because I really enjoy MBTI and see how its functions work on fictional characters.

★ Not the same as P2 of course, but that's a story for another day.

— Pretty much stoic, but on the inside? A mess of emotions he does not know how to untangle correctly. He can get emotional when he’s alone, but that’s a part nobody would ever see of him. He’s not going to let anybody see him in such a vulnerable and weak state.

— Now, returning to the main point. I could really go into details of what or why I think it could have happened for him to literally go postal, but I think the main point is that he moved to Paradise trying to escape from his life. And you may ask “but you said those were the happiest years of his life!” yep, completely, but there can be a few things that alone could have been bad but tolerable, but too many of them make them unbearable: maybe he distanced himself from his friends, had to move somewhere cheaper because of money, his mental health going downhill, etc.

The thing is, he moved to Paradise, and it was probably his worst mistake.

Uncle Dave lived there, that’s why he chose that city, but even with that he had almost no contact with him besides the first few days? He was on his own, alone again.

— Ironically, I think he actually worked for a post office. It’s the only job he could find.

— Both his physical and mental state got way worse. He’s never been a really healthy person, but still tried to take care of himself at least a bit. Going out only when heavily necessary and, after a while, not even going to work anymore. That's when he really ran out of money and got the terrifying letter: he got evicted of his “safe place”. Was his house even a safe place at this point? He couldn’t feel safe anywhere anymore.

He could have called Uncle Dave, but at this point? He was just so disconnected with reality he didn’t know what to do.

★ P2 saw him fall and had no idea of what to do at this point. He was tired of trying to help him so he just ignored. P1 felt so bad that, even if he find P2 annoying at times it was the last thing he needed, the last familiar thing he had disappeared hurts him to the core.

— [ tw // mentions of self-harm ] Even if writing in his journal really helped him to calm down during bad days it doesn’t mean he didn’t do other more harmful things to himself when he was at his worst. Before moving to Paradise he handled it better, he was able to tone it down pretty much since he moved from his parent’s house, but after everything got so overwhelming again? He doesn’t know any better. And the worst part of it? Finds it both comforting and thinks that he deserves all this suffering. For everything. For moving away from his parents, maybe they were right after all. For being a bad christian, God, if he hasn’t done it already, would probably turn his back the day he has to pass Heaven's gates. For after being so happy and having friends and thinking he was getting better and how he throwed all out the windows. It’s all his fault, and he knows it, but he can’t bring himself to do anything, not even therapy, and cannot call his friends. Nothing. The world’s still going on without him. He just feels like when he was a kid, but worse.

★ And here’s where he appears: the Other Dude (to me not the same as P3). He’s shows him his most intrusive thoughts, those who make him feel sick. OD slowly persuaded him to do horrible things not to himself, but the others. He’s twisted and manipulated everything, every little hope he had. P1 confused P2 with OD at this point, and was the one who made P1 get out of his house after a really long time, but with a gun in his hand, ready to kill everybody who made him feel so miserable and worthless. At this point he’s just gone.

At first, ironically, P2 tried to get in the middle of it, a bit confused of what or who OD was. Why he was so similar to himself? How long has he been there? But even OD persuaded him at some point.

Both P1 and P2 were tired of the way they were living and feeling. So why not change it?

I’m not sure who’s the one who got out of the house ready to cause a massacre, if P1, P2 or OD, but the thing is they all agreed at some point.

— I know this is going to be a bit weird, but I don’t think the whole game stages are real? It sounds weird, but let me explain: you really think a guy who has been locked inside his house for so long, having horrible hallucinations, almost no sleep (and if he had any, probably full of nightmares), not taking care of himself is really going to go too far? It does not matter how many weapons he may carry, it’s practically impossible.

Maybe the first 2 or 3 stages, but not much more before the police/militars/whoever it was got him at some point. The others only happened in his head, his mind going ahead of him, overthinking, and lately, his guilt getting over him.

By this I’m not saying he’s less of a horrible person, he did what he did and it’s sickening, it does not matter how bad he was feeling, killing people who have nothing to do with you and your problems is not the answer. Even if they were the cause, it’s not the solution.

— Leaving aside that all the “Postal” games are usually a parodies of real life and black humor (asides from the first game and “Postal Redux”) and taking it for something more serious, I don’t think “Postal Dude” it’s the name of the Postal Dude.

It was a nickname given both by the survivors of the massacre and the media.

— Also, after what he did he was everywhere. In the newspapers, in the TV, in the radio. That’s how Uncle Dave and the group of friends he had back in the city he lived before found out. But how could he? He was such a nice, quiet guy… he wouldn’t hurt a fly!

His group of friends, who since he moved without saying anything, didn’t pick up their calls and in general ignored them and decided it was for the best to just let it be.

Uncle Dave, on the other side he was worried. What the hell happened during all those years they were separated? It couldn’t be something he decided overnight, there had to be something more, right?

— He got his hair shaved at the asylum. After that he didn’t had it that long in his whole life.

— He got locked in the asylum, and being locked in there, alone again with his thoughts, it was dead of him. Metaphorically speaking.

★ P1 went dormant, refusing to think of what he has done, or at least accepted to do. He couldn't take all that blame, it was impossible. Every time he remembers it he wants to puke. He now really want to be dead. There’s no way he can redeem himself from that, God definitely has abandoned him. OD also disappeared. He just provoked all of this and now what? He accomplished what he wanted, where is he? He bring out the worst part of P1, was he trying to corrupt him and breaking him was not in the plan or was the plan breaking him from the start?

Whatever it was left P2 alone, also feeling guilty of what he has done. He does not feel as bad as P1 but he also cannot feel happy as OD probably feels. What they’ve done it’s horrible, but how OD manipulated them to do it? Even worse. Even for P2 whose morality is more gray-ish than P1s.

He hates it, he’s locked in there with the hallucinations and barely speaks to P1 because he’s completely broken and refuses to do so. Now it’s the other way around. He’s growing resentful to him too for that, they’re both cupid, can he at least make him some company? Like he did when P1 was a child too? It’s unfair.

He has something clear though: if OD ever shows his ass again he will NOT let get on him like he did. And even if he’s annoyed at P1, not even him.

— After some time Uncle Dave brings himself to visit him. At first it was so grim. Dude felt so horrible for his actions he couldn’t bring himself to even look at him, but after some more visits, therapy and meds he started to light up a really tiny bit. It was something.

★ It was not really him, P1 was pretty much not wanting to know anything from the external world, it was P2 who decided to take the lead. P1 didn’t wanted to live anymore? Fine, he would take his chance then. To live the life he never could since he’s always been on P1 mind, rarely being the one in control.

Maybe he was pretending, or maybe he genuinely wanted to get better, but the thing was: he wanted to get out of there, if there was a chance to do so, he would try it. At first do what the workers said, and if that didn’t work he would escape. He does not care. He wants to try to live.

✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪

okay I got a bit too carried away- I’m sorry-

hope you liked them! I’m not really skilled nor do I have practice when it comes to creating headcanons about characters even if I have a few ideas.

I’m thinking about posting a few more in a future,, but school work is killing me-

#postal #postal 1997 #postal dude #postal headcanons #idk #I hope I get him right #honeslty I'm kinda anxious #I kinda want to explore a bit more why he did what he did #and I also crave for dude with an actual stability in his life TuT like if he was in a slice of life anime that nothing too big happens #EDIT: posted this when I was about to go to bed so now I'm doing some corrections #postal dude headcanons

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whump-card · 3 months

Text

Sunless Lives AU scene 30.1: The Nightmare

Starts off in a canonical scene from Part 30, then takes an alternative turn. Please heed the warnings, this one is intense.

1994 words

CW: explicit noncon, carewhumper, betrayal, panic attack, freeze response, choking

Masterlist

~~~

Christian waited just outside the half-closed bedroom door for Simon to change into his pajamas. When Simon opened the door all the way he stepped inside and sat on Simon’s bed - a real bed that he’d bought soon after Simon had moved in. He even had a bedside table with a nice lamp and an alarm clock. Simon folded his arms, then unfolded them, worried about looking hostile. He waited for the usual evening rigamarole. How are you feeling now compared to this morning. Is your stomach okay. Do you want any melatonin.

Instead, Christian patted the bed next to him. Simon sat obediently.

“Simon, I…” Chris lifted a hand. It hung in the air for an uncertain moment, then settled on Simon’s knee. The touch sent a pleasurable shiver up Simon’s spine. Christian had been so careful over the past three weeks to never touch Simon, especially in any way that could be… misinterpreted. Simon had mirrored this behavior to a tee, leaving himself lonely and touch starved. But he never dared to ask for physical affection - he didn’t want Christian to think he was trying to seduce him, as he had before.

“You know I… I want to do right by you.”

“Mhm.” Simon nodded, unsure where this was going. Was he about to have some restriction lifted? Or more piled upon him? Or worse - was he about to be sent back to Fort Summerwhite?

“I’ve tried to be an… impartial caretaker to you. To fill a role… of something like a parent. But that’s not a role that I think I can… confine myself to.”

His hand slid up Simon’s thigh.

Oh.

I can use this, Simon thought confidently - maybe a little desperately. It would be just like the orderlies, only easier; Christian had never demanded sex from him before. They would kiss, and touch, and go to bed separately, and then maybe tomorrow Simon could get something he wanted.

And it wasn’t like he was betraying Matthew anymore.

Simon leaned forward and tilted his face up, letting Christian kiss him. Stubble brushed against his skin, and Christian’s tongue pushed between his lips.

Easy. This is easy.

Chris laid him down and climbed on top of him, still kissing him gently, persistently.

Okay. Perfect. We’ll make out for ten minutes and then he’ll get all guilty and leave. Then maybe I can shower with the door closed tomorrow. Easy.

Simon twined one hand into Christian’s hair and rested the other on his chest. Christian held himself up on his left arm, and slid the other under Simon’s shirt.

This isn’t fair.

Simon winced at the intrusive thought.

This isn’t fair to Chris. You shouldn’t use him like this.

Don’t prove yourself a liar.

Simon shifted both hands to press on Christian’s chest. Chris didn’t budge. Simon jerked his head to the side to escape Christian’s heavy kiss.

“Chris- mm!”

Christian quickly shifted and pressed his mouth over Simon’s again, preventing him from speaking. Simon’s pulse picked up speed, and he tried again when Christian paused to adjust his position.

“Chris, stop -”

But Christian was already back on him with a harsh, silencing kiss. The hand under Simon’s shirt slid down and began to pull at his pajama pants. The stretchy fabric moved easily and a bolt of panic surged through Simon. He rapidly tapped Christian’s chest and the captain finally shifted back onto all fours over Simon, breathing heavily, leaving the pants bunched dangerously low around Simon’s hips.

“Chris, I don’t want to have sex, I don’t want to have sex with you,” Simon babbled.

Christian seized the sides of Simon’s head and crashed their lips together, mumbling into Simon’s mouth.

“I know, I know, I’m sorry, please just do this for me, I’ve been waiting three fucking years, Simon.”

He moved back, allowing Simon to suck in panicky breaths while he pulled Simon’s pants down around his knees, exposing him. Simon sat up and shoved at him uselessly.

“Stop it!”

Christian held him down with a hand on his chest while the other pushed and grabbed between Simon’s legs.

“Come on,” he said breathily, “You owe me this.”

Simon loved Christian. He really did. This wasn’t supposed to happen, this had never happened, not with Christian before, not with Matthew, not with Matthew as a vampire, not even with the clients; any resistance on Simon’s part with them was a requested performance. And he didn’t care about them, it wasn’t a betrayal when they fucked him.

There was only one other person that Simon had loved, truly loved, who had also pinned him down and stripped him and fucked him.

Rape, whispered the animal in his chest.

That’s what it all was.

Matthew said so.

And so is this.

(Matthew is always right.)

(Matthew is the only one who never…)

Christian was back on him, suffocating him, scraping Simon’s face with his stubble. Simon reached out to the side wildly, his wrist cracking hard against the bedside table, but Christian caught his arm and pinned it down.

Something shifted, then. The room spun around Simon, and all the strength drained out of his limbs. He was breathing too fast. The sense of danger in his head reached a screaming peak, but he was helpless to do anything about it. His body had abandoned him, becoming limp and pliant under Christian’s hands.

“Chris,” Simon gasped weakly, as the captain shifted back again to pull Simon’s pants completely off, “Chris…”

“That’s right,” Christian huffed, pouncing down again to plant sloppy kisses along Simon’s jaw, “Say my name.” His hands left Simon’s body, and started unbuckling his own belt. Tears welled up in Simon’s eyes as he desperately tried to slow his breathing, to make his body obey his brain’s commands to struggle, to fight, to do anything - but he could only stare and tremble as Christian pulled out his cock, large and hard.

Simon shut his eyes then, hands fisting into the sheets as Christian pushed his legs up and stuffed a pillow under his hips.

“Christian, please.”

“It’s okay, just relax, I won’t hurt you.” Spit-slicked fingers pushed into Simon, and he cried out. He opened his eyes to find the ceiling, no, his vision, covered in black spots. His chest heaved faster. His legs felt like noodles as Christian nearly folded him in half and pumped his fingers, the friction burning.

“Chris,” he keened, “Chris, that hurts.”

“It wouldn’t if you just relaxed, come on, be good for me.”

Renewed panic brought with it another wave of shuddering weakness, and against his will Simon found his body going slack, allowing Chris to push in a third finger, painfully stretching him open. Simon could swear his lungs were giving out, that no matter how fast he breathed the air simply wasn’t making into his body and into his muscles, causing them to give up. To give in. Christian’s fingers withdrew, and Simon sobbed, tears running down his temples, knowing what was coming next. His body was like a ragdoll when Chris rolled him over and pulled up his hips. The new position made the blood rush to Simon’s head, roaring in his ears.

“Please, Chris, stop.” His mouth formed the words, but he couldn’t even hear if he’d said them aloud - but he heard Cristian’s reply.

“Shh, it’s alright, just be good for me.” Christian’s cock pushed against his already-sore entrance, wet with spit as it started to ease in. Simon let out a low whine of pain and terror, pressing his face into the mattress.

Christian entered slowly, driving in until he was fully hilted before backing out a fraction and starting to pump. Each movement sent a small shock of pain through Simon, catching his breath and forcing him to gasp for air in rhythm.

It was happening. This was it. Christian murmured words of praise, muffled by the pulse pounding far too fast in Simon’s ears. Simon’s mouth opened and closed, but all that came out were wordless cries in tempo with Christian’s thrusts. This made Christian laugh, a low rumble.

“You like that?” made it through the haze to Simon’s ears. He tried to form words, but even the muscles in his lips and tongue felt shaky and bloodless.

“Nnno… No…”

“Come on, three fucking years, Simon,” Christian said breathily, “And I’ve watched you whore yourself out to entire VIU building, and then a vampire, a fucking vampire, Simon, before you came crawling back to me.” His rhythm slowed, but became more punishing as he bucked into Simon, fingers digging into Simon’s hips. “Now I’ve got you, you’re mine again, I can take care of you.”

Simon knew from experience, from Christian's breath and voice and heat, that this wouldn’t last much longer. Chris was too wound up. He was already close. Simon panted into the sheets, willing himself to pass out, to be smothered. He didn’t want to feel Christian come inside of him. He wanted to leave, to disassociate, but he couldn’t gain the focus to. He was being pulled in too many directions, by the pain, the betrayal, the panic, the airlessness.

Simon’s mind grasped at straws, and found a horrifically desperate one. He managed to push himself up on one elbow.

“Chris,” he gasped, “Choke me.”

“What?” Christian grunted.

“Please, choke me, please,” Simon begged.

Christian needed no further encouragement. He leaned forward and wrapped a hand around Simon’s throat, with the kind of overeager violence of someone who has no idea how to properly choke a partner. He squeezed Simon’s airway, his fingers pressing down on the trachea and his thumb on Simon’s spine. Simon wheezed as Christian continued to fuck him, the dark spots in his vision growing, growing, growing.

It took longer than Simon wanted. It didn’t make anything hurt less. In the end his survival instincts kicked in, and he struggled weakly against Christian’s grip. But there was an end, as much as his body tried to keep going.

Simon passed out.

~~~

He came to on his back, sticky wetness between his legs. His throat hurt, and his cheek burned. He lifted a hand up to touch his face.

“Sorry I slapped you.”

Simon blinked, and Chris came into focus, looming over him on all fours.

“You good?”

Simon took stock of his body. Nothing felt broken. His breath wheezed a little, but was unobstructed. He could feel all the places where Christian had bruised him, inside and out, but it all felt a little far away.

“Yeah,” Simon whispered hoarsely.

“Well, we king of fucked up the bed,” Christian said sheepishly, “So how about we shower and then sleep in my room?”

He was completely casual. As if they’d done this before. As if Simon had consented.

“Okay,” Simon breathed.

Simon washed himself in the shower with single-minded purposefulness, bumping elbows with Chris. It was all he could think to do. What else could he do? There was no one to reach out to, no way to call for help, no way to leave. Christian had him completely trapped.

Christian was all he had.

Christian dried him off when he got out of the shower, rubbing him down vigorously before planting a kiss on his forehead. Simon looked away into the mirror, seeing only a vague shape of himself in the fogged-up glass. It felt accurate.

Naked together in Christian’s bed, the captain curled up around him, the threat of morning sex was obvious and exhausting. Simon stared at the wall, slowly processing his options. Then he said it out loud.

“You’re all I’ve got.”

Chris sucked in a breath and held it for a moment before letting it out with, “I guess so.”

“You can do whatever you want with me,” Simon said flatly, “Because you saved me.”

“If you say so,” Christian chuckled.

“Okay.” A familiar sort of acceptance settled into Simon, but he still felt a bite of anger, far underneath it all.

“Goodnight, Lara.”

~~~

Masterlist

Taglist: @flowersarefreetherapy, @pigeonwhumps, @sunshiline-writes, @seasaltandcopper, @pirefyrelight, @thecyrulik, @angst-after-dark

#whump #whump fic #whump writing #sunless lives #cw noncon #cw carewhumper #cw panic attack #cw freeze response #cw choking #nsfwhump

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