#i wish to have rubber as a spine
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this slight chronic pain is insane
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Thawed
Kimi Räikkönen x sunshine!Reader
Summary: the many times throughout the years that only the warmth of his wife could thaw the Iceman
“He’s just so … cold,” your aunt comments, wrinkling her nose at Kimi’s back as he heads to the bar. It’s the first time you’ve brought him to a family event.
You bristle, prepared to defend your new boyfriend. “He’s not cold once you get to know him. He’s just a private person.”
Your aunt sniffs. “Still, he barely said two words all night. And that nickname — the Iceman! I don’t like it.”
You straighten your spine. “Well I do. His thoughtfulness and loyalty outweigh any lack of words.”
As you speak, you feel your doubts about mismatched personalities fade. Opposites attract for a reason.
Your aunt looks unconvinced, but you pay her no mind. You’re falling for the quiet Finn with a heart of gold. And you won’t let anyone’s disapproval chill that flame.
When Kimi returns, you lean up and kiss his cheek fondly. He looks pleasantly surprised. Let them judge. You see the real man inside.
***
“Smash it! Smash it!” The rowdy groomsman chants as you and Kimi cut into your wedding cake.
Other guests take up the chant, clamoring for Kimi to shove cake in your face per tradition. But you had quietly asked him not to — you don’t want frosting up your nose and ruining your makeup on your wedding day.
Kimi’s eyes meet yours, a silent question. You give a slight shake of your head. His expression hardens with resolve.
In one smooth motion, he whirls and smashes the slice of cake directly into the rowdy groomsman’s face. Icing splatters everywhere. The room goes silent.
“Here you go, since you seem to want the cake smashed so bad,” Kimi says coldly.
The groomsman splutters in shock. You have to hide your smile behind your hand.
Kimi winks at you as he licks icing off his fingers. “Now, where were we?”
Heart swelling, you lean in to kiss your wonderful, cake-covered husband. No one gets in the way of your wishes on your wedding day.
***
The paddock is bustling with activity as you make your way through the crowds, weaving between mechanics and engineers going about their race day routines. The smells of rubber and gasoline hang thick in the air. You smile and nod at familiar faces, receiving knowing looks in return.
Everyone here knows who you are — the bubbly, outgoing wife of the Iceman himself. The unlikely pairing has been the talk of Formula 1 ever since you started dating a few years ago. You’re warm and chatty. He’s cool and laconic. But somehow, it works.
You find Kimi in the Ferrari motorhome, sipping an energy drink, game face on. His brows are furrowed in concentration, icy grey eyes focused straight ahead. You know not to disturb him right now. This is business time.
Slipping into the seat beside him, you pull out your phone and scroll aimlessly, letting the comfortable silence stretch between you. The hustle and noise of the paddock fades into the background.
Finally, Kimi drains the last drops from his can and crushes it in his hand. He turns to you, the stern expression melting away. His eyes soften and the corners of his mouth tick upward ever so slightly.
“Morning,” he says quietly, voice gravelly.
You beam at him. “Good morning, love. Ready to go racing today?”
He nods, the hint of a smile still playing on his lips. “Did you sleep okay?”
“I did, thanks to my very comfy race driver pillow.” You wink.
Kimi snorts, the creases around his eyes deepening. He leans in and presses a quick kiss to your temple.
Around you, mechanics and team members try and fail to pretend they aren’t glancing your way, still not used to seeing the Iceman so openly affectionate. But Kimi doesn’t seem to notice or care.
“I’ll see you after,” he says, standing up and giving your hand a squeeze. His face settles back into cool concentration as he strides out to prepare for the race.
You settle in to watch qualifying, heart swelling with pride and love for your Finnish fireball.
***
“Kimi, the stewards want to speak with you about the incident with Perez on lap 37.”
Kimi’s jaw clenches, eyes flashing. “Typical,” he mutters.
You touch his arm reassuringly. “Go on, I’ll wait here for you.”
He nods, striding off to the steward’s office, race suit half unzipped and hair disheveled. You know he’ll be lucky to escape without a penalty. Kimi has never been one to mince words or hide his displeasure with other drivers. You can only imagine the icy staredown happening behind those closed doors right now.
Twenty minutes later, he emerges looking ready to smash a table. You jump up and hurry over.
“Well? What did they say?”
Kimi’s scowl deepens, if that’s even possible. “Ten second penalty. Ridiculous.” He spits out something in Finnish you’re glad you don’t understand.
“Oh, I’m so sorry. You drove brilliantly today.”
He shakes his head and stalks down the hall towards the paddock. You scurry after him, nearly jogging to match his long angry strides.
“Forget it. Not your fault the stewards are blind.”
You slip your hand into his, lacing your fingers together. Immediately you feel some of the tension leave his body. He glances down at you, the hint of a smile breaking through the thunderclouds.
“Let’s get out of here,” you say gently. “I’ll make you your favorite dinner, open a nice bottle of wine ...”
He nods, expression softening. “Okay. Sounds good.”
You smile up at him, giving his hand a squeeze. The stormy Finn may have a heart of ice on the track, but you know better. He just needs a little sunshine sometimes.
***
You pause in the kitchen doorway, heart melting at the scene before you. Kimi sits on the living room floor, your baby niece perched happily in his lap. He bounces her gently on his knee as she squeals with delight, the hint of a smile on his usually stoic face.
“Faster Unca Kimi, faster!” She cries, unruly curls flying.
He chuckles and picks up the pace, eliciting delighted giggles from her. Your sister watches nearby, still looking a bit bemused at seeing the Iceman so good natured and playful.
Finally Kimi stops, feigning exhaustion. “Whew, that’s enough for Uncle Kimi,” he says, lifting her up and pretending to wipe sweat from his brow. “You’re too fast!”
She dissolves into giggles and wraps her tiny arms around his neck in a hug. He hugs her back, looking more content than you’ve ever seen him. Your heart feels fit to burst.
“Who wants ice cream?” You announce, carrying in two bowls.
“Me, me!” Your niece starts to squirm in Kimi’s lap, reaching eagerly for her treat.
He stands, swinging her up easily onto his shoulders. “Let’s go have ice cream on the porch, give your mama a break,” he says. She kicks her little legs gleefully.
Your sister shoots you a grateful smile as Kimi carries her outside. You grin and wink. Who would believe it — the Iceman, a big softie for kids. But you know better. Under that cool exterior beats a heart of gold.
***
The crowds pressing around the circuit are suffocating today. Fans shove programs and merch at you for Kimi to sign. One overzealous teenage boy tries to wrap you in an uninvited hug.
Suddenly Kimi is there, gently but firmly detaching the boy’s hands from your arms. His face is thunderous.
“Back. Off.” The boy stumbles away wide-eyed.
Kimi keeps a protective grip on your shoulder as he marches you briskly from the paddock. Once inside the privacy of the motorhome, he cups your face in his hands.
“Are you okay? Did he hurt you?” His tone is urgent.
You shake your head, still a bit shaken. “Just got grabby. Thank you for the rescue.”
Kimi exhales, pressing his forehead to yours. “I don’t like you getting swarmed out there.”
You smile wryly. “Hazards of being Mrs. Iceman.”
He brushes his thumb over your cheek. “I just want to keep you safe. Those crowds make me nervous.”
You kiss him softly. “I’ll be okay.”
His eyes bore into yours, icy blue melting into tenderness. “Still. Stay close to me out there from now on. So I can protect what’s most precious.”
Your heart flutters under his intent gaze. You lace your fingers through his, feeling infinitely cherished.
“Always.”
***
“Kimi, your phone is ringing again,” you call from the couch.
He doesn’t respond, gaze fixed intently on the TV as he navigates a difficult turn in his racing video game. The phone buzzes angrily on the coffee table.
With a sigh, you reach for it. The caller ID says “Bane of My Existence.” You frown. That’s the third call from her this week that he’s ignored.
“Kimi ...”
“Hmm?” He pauses the game and glances at you, eyebrows raised.
You hold up the phone. “It’s your PR officer again. Don’t you think you should answer and see what she wants?”
His expression clouds over. “No. Told her not to call me anymore.”
“Oh? Why’s that?” You keep your tone light and curious.
He shrugs. “Kept trying to get me to do stuff. Go to parties and all that.”
You bite back a smile, warmth flooding your chest. Your shy homebody of a husband, sought after on the celebrity circuit but wanting none of it.
“Well, I’m glad she hasn’t lured you away yet,” you tease gently.
The corners of his mouth quirk up as he takes the phone from you and sets it aside before pulling you into his lap.
“Don’t worry,” he rumbles, nudging your nose with his. “You’re the only party I need.”
You kiss him softly, heart overflowing. The glitz and glam means nothing to your Kimi. Home is where his heart is.
***
You awake to whispered voices and the smell of something burning. Bleary-eyed, you shuffle to the kitchen doorway.
Kimi stands at the stove, hair endearingly mussed from sleep. He’s scowling down at a frying pan, clutching a spatula like a weapon. Your brother leans against the counter, trying and failing to stifle laughter.
“What’s going on?” You ask through a yawn.
Kimi’s scowl deepens. “Trying to make you breakfast. Not going well.” He prods the blackened lump in the pan disdainfully.
Your brother snorts. “He nearly set off the fire alarm. I got here just in time.”
“I told you I don’t cook,” Kimi mutters, avoiding your gaze.
You pad over and wrap your arms around him from behind, pressing a kiss between his shoulder blades. “It’s the thought that counts. Thank you, love.”
He relaxes back into your embrace. Your brother mimes gagging behind his back. You stick out your tongue at him.
“Here, I’ll show you,” you say, gently prying the spatula from Kimi’s hand. “Just go slow ...”
Soon, the three of you are gathered around the table, eating the pancakes you made together. Kimi’s are a bit misshapen, but edible.
He looks inordinately pleased as you sample his. “Good?”
You beam at him and squeeze his hand. “The very best.”
His rare unguarded smile warms you more deeply than any breakfast ever could.
***
You awaken to the dipping of the mattress as Kimi slips under the covers. The red glow of his bedside clock reads 3:48 AM.
“Everything okay?” You murmur, rolling over to face him.
He wraps an arm around you, pulling you close against his chest. You feel the steady thump of his heart under your palm.
“Yeah. Couldn’t sleep.” His voice rumbles low near your ear.
You nuzzle into him, breathing in the familiar scent of his skin. “Worrying about the race this weekend?”
He exhales, his breath stirring your hair. “No. Just thinking.”
When he doesn’t elaborate, you lift your head to study his face in the dimness. His eyes shine in the faint light, gazing at you with an intensity that makes your own heart skip.
“What is it?” You whisper.
He brushes a strand of hair from your face, his callused fingers infinitely tender. “Sometimes I still can’t believe you’re here. That you’re mine.”
Emotion swells in your chest, words escaping you. You cup his stubbled face and guide his lips down to yours in a soft, lingering kiss.
When you finally draw apart, he pulls you close again, tucking your head under his chin. No more words are needed. You understand each other perfectly in the quiet spaces between heartbeats. Soon his breathing evens out in sleep, and you follow him down, still nestled safe in the circle of his arms.
***
You’re just drizzling the last of the chocolate over the molten lava cakes when you hear Kimi’s keys in the front door. A smile spreads across your face. Perfect timing.
He wanders in a few moments later, hair adorably rumpled, eyes lighting up when he sees you.
“Mmm, something smells good,” he says, crossing the kitchen to wrap you in a hug.
You kiss his scratchy cheek. “Made your favorite for dessert. Now go get cleaned up while I finish.”
He squeezes you tighter, stubble tickling your neck as he nuzzles into it. “Can’t I have you for dessert instead?”
You swat his shoulder playfully. “Go on, you. Plenty of time for that later.”
He steals one more kiss before sauntering off, a grin playing about his lips. You shake your head, unable to stop smiling. After all these years, he still makes your heart race as if you’re teenagers again.
When he returns, you’ve set out the seared salmon, roasted vegetables, and the two perfect chocolate lava cakes. His eyes light up.
“Have I told you lately that you’re the best wife ever?” He asks, pulling out your chair.
“Hmm, I think you could stand to mention it more,” you tease.
He takes your hand, brushing his thumb over your knuckles. His eyes pierce yours. “You’re the best wife ever,” he says solemnly.
You lean in and kiss him, happiness bubbling up inside you. However many times he says it, you’ll never get tired of hearing it.
***
“So, what’s it like being married to the grumpiest driver on the grid?” The reporter shoves a microphone in your face, invasive and smug.
You recoil, blindsided. “Excuse me?”
“Come on, he’s not exactly Mr. Personality.” The reporter leans closer. “Does the Iceman thaw out at home or just freeze you out?”
Humiliation burns through you. Before you can respond, Kimi is there, gently moving you aside. His eyes are blazing.
“Don’t you dare talk about my wife like that,” he growls at the reporter. “You know nothing about our life.”
The reporter withers under Kimi’s icy glare. You feel a rush of gratitude for your protective husband.
Kimi turns to you, face softening. “Let’s get out of here.”
Once you’re alone, he brushes a strand of hair from your face. “Sorry you had to deal with that. He had no right to badger you about our marriage.”
You lean into him, safe in the circle of his arms. “It’s okay. You came to my rescue like a knight in shining racing gear.”
He snorts. “Hardly a knight. But for you, always.” He kisses you tenderly.
No matter what the media says, your life together is not theirs to define. Your love writes its own quiet story each day.
***
You awake in the dark to a loud crash from downstairs. Heart pounding, you shake Kimi’s shoulder.
“Kimi, wake up! I think someone’s broken in.”
He’s up in an instant, alert and poised to strike. You hear footsteps creeping up the stairs. Kimi pushes you behind him and grabs the baseball bat by the bed.
The footsteps reach the landing and a shadowy figure appears in the doorway. Kimi flicks on the light, bat raised menacingly. You both freeze.
It’s Sebastian Vettel, eyes wide, hands raised in surrender. “Whoa whoa, it’s just me!”
Kimi’s shoulders slump as he lowers the bat. “Seb? What the hell are you doing here?”
Seb runs a hand through his messy hair. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. I was in town and my rental car broke down outside. I was hoping I could crash here tonight.”
Kimi sighs, shaking his head. “You couldn’t call first?”
Seb grins sheepishly. “Forgot to charge my phone.”
You step out from behind Kimi, laying a hand on his arm. “It’s fine, love. Let’s get some fresh sheets for the guest room.” You turn to Seb. “We’ll figure out your car in the morning.”
Seb’s shoulders sag in relief. “Thanks, I really owe you guys.”
As you make up the bed, you share an amused look with Kimi. Only Seb could turn up unannounced in the middle of the night and get away with it. But then again, that’s why you love him.
***
You’re waiting at the finish line, heart in your throat as the cars scream past for the final lap. Kimi is battling for a podium finish, but has fallen back after a poorly timed pit stop. He’s gaining ground fast, but is he out of time?
The crowd roars as the frontrunners cross the line. P2 … P3 … waiting for P4. Come on, Kimi.
Then you see it, the red and white Alfa Romeo flashing past the checkered flag, narrowly clinching third. You leap in the air, cheering loudly. Kimi did it!
You rush down towards the pits, arriving just as Kimi climbs from his car. His race suit is drenched, hair plastered to his forehead, but his eyes are bright. When he spots you, a grin breaks across his face.
You throw your arms around him, heedless of how sweaty he is. “You were amazing! I’m so proud of you.”
He lifts you off your feet in a bear hug, laughing breathlessly in your ear. The sound sends joy bursting through your veins.
As he sets you down, you cradle his stubbled face in your hands. “I love you,” you say fiercely.
His grin softens to something more tender. He tilts his forehead against yours, heedless of the crowds milling nearby.
“Love you too,” he murmurs.
The cameras flash around you, eager to capture this rare unguarded moment. But Kimi only has eyes for you. Third place has never felt so golden.
***
“Ugh, your wife is so annoyingly positive all the time. It’s nauseating,” the other driver’s girlfriend gripes to Kimi at a race afterparty.
You freeze mid-laugh, stung by her disdainful tone. Kimi’s eyes narrow dangerously.
“I would rather have a positive wife than a miserable cow like you,” he says coldly. “Come on, let’s go.”
He takes your arm and steers you firmly away. You blink back tears, embarrassed.
“Hey,” Kimi says softly, tilting your chin up. “Don’t listen to her. I love how positive you are. Don’t let anyone make you feel bad for spreading joy.”
You give a watery chuckle. “Really? You don’t find it annoying?”
“Are you kidding? Your light balances out my darkness perfectly.” He punctuates this with a swift kiss. “You keep me from being a constant grump.”
You laugh and swat his chest. “Impossible. No one can tame the Iceman’s grumpiness.”
He smiles tenderly and pulls you close. “You do. Don’t change for anyone else.”
***
You pace the bathroom floor, heart racing. The little white stick sits innocently on the counter, but its result will change everything. One blue line for negative, two for positive.
Three minutes have never felt so long.
When the timer finally beeps, you take a deep breath and turn it over with a shaky hand. Two blue lines stare back at you.
Positive.
Emotions swell within you — joy, nervousness, excitement. You and Kimi have been trying for a baby, but it still feels so surreal now that it’s actually happening.
You hear the front door open and Kimi call out your name. It’s time. Clutching the test behind your back, you go to him.
He must read something in your face, because his brows furrow in concern. “Everything okay?”
Your face splits into a teary grin. “Everything’s perfect.” You bring the test out from behind you and hold it up wordlessly.
Kimi’s eyes widen. For once, the unflappable Finn seems utterly flapped. “You … we ...” He stares at the two little lines, then back at you. “We’re having a baby?”
You nod, vision blurring with happy tears. With a joyful shout, Kimi sweeps you up in his arms and spins you around. His excitement is boyish and uncontained.
When he sets you down, he cradles your face in both hands. “I’m going to be a father,” he whispers in awe.
You put your hand over his, overjoyed tears spilling down your cheeks. “You’re going to be the best father.”
***
You fidget impatiently on the exam table, Kimi’s hand clutched in yours. After months of waiting, today is your first ultrasound. If all looks well, you’ll get to see your baby for the very first time.
“What’s taking so long?” You huff. Kimi smiles and presses a kiss to your temple.
“Relax, they’ll be here soon.” His calm steadies you, as it always does.
Finally the technician arrives and asks you to lift up your shirt. She squeezes cool gel over your swelling belly and begins moving the ultrasound wand through it.
The screen comes to life, showing grainy black and white images you can’t decipher. The technician frowns, adjusting some dials. Your heart leaps into your throat.
Sensing your distress, Kimi gives your hand a reassuring squeeze. “It’s okay. Just be patient,” he murmurs.
After a few tense moments, the technician’s face clears. She turns the screen towards you with a smile. “There we are. There’s your baby.”
You gaze in wonder at the little shape filling the screen, tiny arms and legs visibly squirming. Your vision blurs with tears. That’s your child, your little miracle.
Beside you Kimi is utterly transfixed, eyes shining. “That’s our baby,” he whispers reverently.
He lifts your intertwined hands and presses his lips to your knuckles. “Thank you,” he says, voice husky with emotion. “For this gift.”
You have no words. You simply lean into him, his solid warmth anchoring you as joy washes over you both.
***
You stare glumly at your reflection in the mirror. At eight months pregnant, you feel like a beluga whale. Your ankles are swollen, your back aches constantly, and none of your clothes fit over your enormous bump anymore.
Voices sound from downstairs as Kimi arrives home. You feel tears prick your eyes. You don’t want him to see you like this, a beached whale in sweatpants.
Sniffling, you ease onto the bed and bury your face in a pillow. Kimi finds you there a few minutes later. The mattress dips as he sits down and rubs your back.
“What’s wrong, love?”
You shake your head, embarrassed. “Nothing. I’m fine.”
Gently he turns you over, brushing the hair from your damp cheeks. “Talk to me,” he says softly.
A sob escapes you. “I’m hideous like this! I’ve gotten so huge. You must be disgusted looking at me.”
Kimi’s brow furrows. He takes your chin in his hand, forcing you to meet his earnest gaze. “Is that what you think? That I find you disgusting?”
Ashamed, you drop your eyes, fresh tears spilling over.
“Look at me,” he says gently. You do. His ice blue eyes pierce yours. “You’ve never been more beautiful to me than you are right now, carrying our child.”
He places a reverent hand on your belly. “You are giving us the most precious gift in the world. How could I not find you beautiful?”
His words pierce your heart. You cover his hand with yours. “I love you,” you whisper.
He gathers you close, dropping feather-light kisses over your face. “And I love you. Always.”
You cling to him, feeling foolish and so very loved.
***
A contraction rips through you, more intense than any before. You cry out, squeezing Kimi’s hand desperately.
“Breathe, love, breathe,” he coaches, face taut.
You gasp air into your lungs as the vice grip on your insides finally releases. Kimi dabs the sweat from your brow with a cool cloth.
“You’re doing so well,” he murmurs. “Our little one will be here soon.”
Even through the haze of pain, his voice anchors you. Your Kimi, always steady as a rock.
Too soon, another contraction wrings a ragged shout from you. Kimi never leaves your side, letting you nearly crush his hand as you ride out the agony.
“I can’t … I can’t do this ...” you sob.
Kimi presses his lips to your temple. “You can. You’re the strongest person I know. I’m right here with you.”
His faith buoys you, even as your body is wracked with wave after wave of excruciating spasms. Your world narrows to the circle of his arms.
Then finally, miraculously, comes the thin, piercing cry of your child. Your exhausted tears mingle with joyful laughter.
Kimi cuts the cord with shaky hands, eyes shining brighter than you’ve ever seen. When they lay the squalling, pink bundle on your chest, the universe crystallizes to this one perfect point.
Your family, whole at last.
***
You awake in the small hours before dawn, reaching across the cool sheets only to find Kimi’s side of the bed empty. Padding down the hallway on silent feet, you peer into the nursery.
Your breath catches in your throat. Kimi stands over the crib, your tiny daughter cradled against his chest. One large hand gently supports her downy head.
He’s speaking softly to her in Finnish, too low for you to understand. But the love shining through his voice brings tears to your eyes. Your tough, taciturn Finn transformed into a doting father.
As he lays her tenderly back in the crib, you hear him murmur in a whisper, “Don’t worry little one, your isä will always protect you. I promise you that.”
He tucks the blanket snugly around her and brushes a feather-light kiss over her forehead. The tenderness of it makes your heart ache.
You slip silently back to bed before he notices you, not wanting to intrude on this private moment between father and daughter. But the image stays seared in your mind.
When Kimi joins you a few minutes later, you turn and press your face into his chest so he won’t see your tears of joy. His arms come around you reflexively.
“You okay?” He rumbles.
You nod, a lump in your throat. Your family is so very blessed.
***
The paddock is bustling with activity as you push your daughter’s stroller through the chaotic maze of the paddock. She’s only six months old, wide-eyed at all the commotion.
Mechanics pause to coo over her, their grease-smudged fingers surprisingly gentle. PR people stop to fuss and take photos. Word has spread — the Iceman’s baby girl is here.
Kimi strides over, stooping to drop a kiss on your head and tickle his daughter’s tummy. His race suit is on, grey eyes intense and focused.
“Sure you don’t want me to take her while you concentrate?” You ask.
He shakes his head, a corner of his mouth quirked up. “I need to see my two favorite girls before I drive.”
Your heart melts. Kimi scoops her up, and she clutches at his nose and gurgles. Nearby, you hear shutters clicking madly. The Iceman undone by a baby — it’ll be all over the press tonight.
But Kimi only has eyes for his daughter, face soft in a way it never is before a race. With a deep breath, he cuddles her close and murmurs something in Finnish before handing her back to you.
You kiss his cheek. “Go show them how it’s done, Daddy.”
He winks and strides off towards the pit lane, determination in his stride. Your daughter waves a chubby fist as he disappears from view.
No matter how many races he wins, now his best trophy waits for him at the finish line. His family.
***
“Must be lonely married to a man called the Iceman,” the reporter says slyly. “He’s not known for being warm and affectionate.”
Anger flashes through you. How dare this stranger imply your marriage is lacking.
“You couldn’t be more wrong,” you reply sharply. “Kimi is very attentive and loving in private.”
The reporter raises her eyebrows. “But his public image ...”
You cut her off. “That’s all it is — an image. Kimi deserves more respect than tired old stereotypes.”
Your voice softens as you glance to where Kimi is chatting with fans, his body angled protectively towards you.
“There is no one kinder or more loyal than my husband. He cherishes our family greatly, he just doesn’t flaunt it to the world.”
The reporter looks taken aback by your fervent defense. You almost feel sorry for her. She’ll never truly know the man behind the Iceman legend. But you do and you won’t tolerate anyone maligning him.
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Talk dirty to me
PAIRING | Iron Man!Tony Stark x Journalist!Fem!Reader
WORD COUNT | 5K
SUMMARY | You have been asked to interview and shadow Tony for a few months regarding his research in nanotechnology and his life as Iron Man. During this time, the sexual tension builds quickly between you two, and when you can't stop staring at him while he's working, the tension snaps, and you learn about a new kink you never knew you had.
RATING | Explicit (E)
WARNINGS/TAGS | Age gap, mutual pining, slight insecurities.
SMUT | Porn with plot, use of traffic light system, lots of dirty talk, praise kink, sir kink, size kink, hair pulling, fingering, handjob, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!), squirting, cream pie, aftercare
A/N | This one-shot is written based on a request I received from a lovely Anon! From the moment this appeared in my asks, I could not stop thinking about it, and @ccbsrmsf1 and I have been drooling about this since that moment. So dear Anon, if you wish to reveal yourself (if not, I totally understand that too!) I'd love for you to send me a DM so I can thank you personally for your amazing ideas! 🩷
A/N 2.0 | This is proofread by my best friend and biggest supporter on this website, @ccbsrmsf1. I wouldn't be here without you today, and I cannot thank you enough! I love you 3000 🩷
EVENTS
Masterlist | @anyfandomfluffbingo | Journalist!Reader
Masterlist | @multifandom-flash | Grow Old With Me
Banners: Yours truly | Divider: @firefly-graphics | GIF: Source
Main Masterlist | Tony Stark Masterlist
The past three months have been interesting, to say the least. From being asked to interview none other than Iron Man himself about his research on nanotechnology to shadowing him for five months, it is a rollercoaster you never expected to get onto. Still, you do not want to get off because it's too much fun.
But that's not all because, during these months, you and Tony have also been building on the sexual tension that is palpable between the two of you. From semi-innocent flirting to not-so-innocent grinding on the dancefloor after a few drinks, it has all passed the revue, and it is like a rubber band that is about to snap. One more move, and it will snap, leaving both of you to lust after the other like never before.
Today, you're just observing Tony as he's working on his research, which would have been simple enough if it weren't for the fact that he's wearing a skintight shirt that exposes his broad shoulders, muscly, veiny, bulging biceps and forearms. His large, strong hands with long, skilled fingers have been the subject of your wet dreams. Your lip is pulled between your teeth as you look at him.
The shirt is pulled tight over his chest and abdomen, allowing you to drink in every inch of his muscles, which leads you to his narrow waist and thick legs covered in dark jeans that seem to hug his thick bulge and round butt perfectly, making you squeeze your legs together at the sight.
"Are you enjoying yourself over there, Sweets?" Tony asks with a quirked brow, and your eyes snap up to his as a flush appears on your cheeks at the fact you've been caught. You nod shyly, and a mischievous grin dances on Tony's lips as he walks over to where you're sitting on a table, which is the perfect spot to observe what he is doing.
"Did you like what you just saw? I'm sure you did because you've been clenching these delicious thighs and biting that perfect lip the entire time, huh? Don't think I haven't noticed it, Sweets; I can smell your arousal on the other side of the lab," he tells you in a low, rumbling voice that sends shivers down your spine.
"Y-yes, sir," you stammer out, the red color on your cheeks deepening when he stands before you. He moves forward as he places his hands on the table on either side of you, and you can't help but tremble as he's mere inches away from your face.
You accidentally knock something off the table as you shift your body a little to be more comfortable, and the heat on your cheeks now spreads from the tips of your ears down your chest as the embarrassment takes over completely. However, before you can think about it too much, Tony has cupped your face in his large hand, feeling the warmth radiating onto his long, calloused fingers.
"It's okay, Sweets. Nothing to be embarrassed about," he whispers before leaning forward, his lips kissing softly on the corner of your mouth. Your eyes flutter shut at the feeling of the softness of his lips on your face, a shuddering breath leaving your lips.
"A-are you sure?" you ask, and he nods.
"I'm sure. Whatever it is that you broke is nothing that I cannot replace; otherwise, it wouldn't be lying out here on the table," he says, and you can feel yourself already becoming calmer, the tension you were feeling earlier slowly replacing with need at the close proximity between you two.
Tony's hand drops down from your face to your bare thigh as he trails the tips of his fingers to the edge of your skirt, teasing you a little as a smile tugs at the corner of his mouth.
"You're perfect like this," he whispers in your ear, and you can't suppress the soft moan escaping your lips as he says those words. You have always enjoyed receiving praise, but hearing it from Tony does something to you that you have never considered. It only arouses you further.
"Did you think I wouldn't notice your skirt, Sweets? It barely covers your ass, so it's no wonder I could tell that you want me. You do want me, don't you?" Tony whispers between the kisses from your jaw to your throat until he reaches the sensitive spot beneath your ear.
You moan out a soft yes, and a small smile tugs at the corners of Tony's lips. Hearing that you want him just as much as he wants you has him twitching in his pants. He dares to move his fingers beneath the hem of your skirt. Just far enough to have a little taste of the skin hidden by the denim fabric, yet not enough to give you what you desperately want.
"Good girl," Tony tells you as you spread your thighs slightly, giving him the access you know he's been asking for without actually saying it. The flush on your cheeks returns as you pull your bottom lip between your teeth, trying to hide the fact that his praise is making your stomach flip and your skin feel like it's on fire.
Your breath hitches as you feel Tony's finger hook behind the elastic of your panties, allowing it to glide along the seam where your thigh meets your hip before moving away again just before he reaches the place you need him most. And once more, you're clenching around nothing because he loves being a tease.
A slight pout on your face has him chuckling before he leans in and kisses it away with a small peck, a smile taking its place instead when he pulls away. His hands slide under the hem of your shirt before pulling it off and over your head, revealing the light pink lingerie you're wearing underneath.
"This color looks beautiful on you, Sweets, but I know for sure it'll look even better on the floor," he says teasingly as he unclasps it, the fabric sliding down your arms and onto the floor effortlessly. His breath hitches in his throat as he sees what you've been hiding all this time, as two small, silver rings are adorning your nipples.
"Fuck," he whispers as he keeps staring for just a second too long, the blood in his body rushing to his cock at a rapid pace now that he notices them. Maybe you're not as innocent as he may have thought you to be, and he's practically drooling at the sight in front of him.
When he finally snaps back to reality, he grabs both your breasts, kneading them softly as he revels in the soft moans you let out. He cannot get enough of hearing them, though his ultimate goal is to have you screaming his name as loud as you possibly can, no matter who can hear it.
"Who would have thought that someone as sweet as you has her nipples pierced, hm? I bet they're nice and sensitive," he says as he softly tugs on the rings before playing with your nipples, your head falling back as the pleasure is increasingly growing. Tony takes the opportunity to suck some bruises onto your neck where it meets your shoulder, your fingers lacing into his hair.
Soft moans keep tumbling from your lips as the two of you stay like this for a while. Tony's lips on your neck have the arousal pooling in your panties again, and you're pretty sure there's a small puddle on the table where you're sitting at this point. From the teasing to the way he plays with your nipples and the praise he gives you, he is doing a damn good job of having you melt into a puddle.
"S-sir," you moan out eventually, the ache between your legs too much to handle at this point. Your clit is throbbing in anticipation as he pulls away, his gaze locking onto yours. The brown of his eyes is almost completely gone as lust has taken over.
"What's on your mind, Sweets?" Tony says sweetly, and you slip into the fuzzy headspace you always enjoy getting lost in.
"I need you," you whisper almost inaudibly, your eyes locked in a heated, lustful gaze.
"Yeah? Do you need Sir to play with that cute button between your legs? Or do you want me to slip my fingers in that undoubtedly tight, warm, and dripping pussy of yours?" he asks, and your eyes flutter closed at the thought of his fingers inside you, bringing you to your orgasm.
"Both," you tell him, and Tony can handle only so much before his restraint snaps. His fingers glide past your bare stomach down to your skirt, which has ridden up entirely from the rocking motions of your hips.
"What's your color, Sweets?" he asks, and your eyes slowly open before finding his. You may never have discussed the traffic light system with him before, but you still need to be aware of what he's talking about, and it gives you a warm sense of security.
"So, SO fucking green," you tell him with your eyes half-lidded, and Tony can't help but feel proud at the way you are already so fucked out, despite him barely touching you. It's a sight he knows he will never get enough of.
"Good girl," he says before pulling down your panties, the soaked fabric being put in the back pocket of his jeans to save for later. A soft moan slips past your lips again, and Tony can't stop reveling in the fact that you have a huge praise kink. He already knows he will make good use of that newfound knowledge.
"Does my girl like to be praised?" he asks, his fingers leisurely gliding through your folds to gather the slick between them, and he can tell you're increasingly getting wetter with his question. Your hands fly to his hair as he finds your clit, and you pull him close before moaning a yes into his ear.
His cock twitches in his pants at the way you're melting into a puddle under his touch, and he's reveling in every little moan and whimper slipping past your beautiful, soft, pink lips. The way the pad of his finger feels against your sensitive clit have you jolting each time they make contact, and you can't stop pulling on his dark brown locks as the pleasure inside you keeps building and building.
Almost as if he can sense it, Tony slips a finger into your pussy, being careful not to hurt you as he slides it in. Your head falls back as the pleasure takes over your body; the whimpers and moans from your lips only intensify when your orgasm creeps closer and closer until it washes over you with a scream of his name.
"That's it, Sweets, doing so well for me! You look fucking gorgeous when you cum," he groans out as you tremble, his fingers now making the filthiest, most delicious squelches as your arousal only grows. His fingers are like magic, and you only want more.
"Yeah?" you ask shyly when Tony's worked you through your orgasm, ensuring you don't crash from your high all of a sudden. A blush is adorning your face at the praise Tony has given you, and you can't stop yourself from wanting more of it and more of him.
"Fuck yes, 's the prettiest fuckin' sight I've ever seen, Sweets. Now I can't wait to see what you look like when you cum on my cock," he tells you, and the color on your cheeks deepens at the thought of Tony stretching you on his cock.
"Let's find out then, shall we?" you ask playfully, and Tony cannot say no to an offer like that. When you offer yourself up on a silver platter like that, he will definitely take his share of you. It would be stupid to deny himself something he so desperately wants, after all.
Before you know it, Tony is completely bare, and you can't stop staring at the monster of a cock that is standing at attention between his legs. The tip is already leaking pre-cum, and the blue veins running from the tip down his shaft don't go unnoticed by you, either. Finishing that with the way his balls look as they hang perfectly underneath it, and you know you're in love. With him. With his cock. With everything.
"Do you like what you see? If you want, you can give it a little touch first; it won't bite," Tony says as he steps closer, and you bite your lip as his cock bobs up and down with every step. You reach out on instinct, and you gasp at the way your hand can barely close around his girth.
"Hmm, look at that, Sweets. It's so big you can barely hold it all; are you sure it will all fit inside that tight pussy?" he teases you, and you nod immediately as you look up at him, your eyes torn away from his cock for the first time since he revealed it. Your hand moves up and down as he comes to stand between your legs, soft groans leaving his chest as you do so.
"God, you're perfect. Fuckin' perfect," he grits out as he thrusts carefully into your hand, trying not to stimulate himself too much before he cums without having even felt the warmth of your pussy yet. As he keeps praising you, your pussy clenches around nothing as you're aching for his cock to be put inside you, to slide home just the way you both want.
He can feel himself getting dangerously close to the edge, and before it's too late, he grips your wrist carefully, stopping your movements. You look up at him with concern, but he's quick to ease your mind.
"I was about to cum, Sweets, 'n' I don't want to yet," he tells you, and you nod. You let go of his cock, instead letting your hand dip down to play with his balls, which was a genius move as he moans loudly as you give them a gentle squeeze. He's very sensitive there, and you're dripping onto the table at the thought that it's you who does that to him.
"God, you're doin' so well for me, Sweets. Play with my balls like that; j-just roll 'em a bit," he whispers, and you do as he asks, pride swelling in your chest at his words. His cock throbs each time you squeeze them gently, rolling them in your hand, which barely fits around them. Even his balls are big in your hand, and Tony cannot get enough of the sight.
"That's enough for now," he tells you gently, and you let them go, already missing their weight in your hand. Despite their size, they were surprisingly comfortable in your hand, which is something you would never have thought.
As you wait for Tony to make the next move, he lifts his hand to tilt your head back a little, his finger touching your chin ever so slightly.
"I want you to know that if we continue, you can tell me to stop whenever you want. You can say yellow if you're uncomfortable and need to switch positions or red if you must stop altogether. Do you understand that?" Tony asks, and the care in his voice has your heart beat faster.
"Yes, sir," you whisper, and Tony rewards you with a small, soft kiss on your lips. It's not enough to get lost in, but enough to leave you wanting more, which is what he was going for.
"What's your color now?"
"Green, Sir. Very green," you tell him, and he nods. There are no signs of discomfort on your face, and Tony gives you a slight smirk as he grabs his cock this time, pumping it a few times before pulling you to the edge of the table and dragging his cock through your folds a few times. An obscenely loud moan escapes your lips as his tip rubs over your sensitive clit, and Tony feels himself throbbing in his hand.
"Lean back for me, Sweets," he tells you, and you do as he asks. The sight that unfolds has Tony squeezing himself at the base of his cock to ensure he doesn't cum yet. Your body looks like it's glowing, and your nipple piercings glisten beautifully in the lights of his lab, making him throb in his hand.
A groan escapes his lips as he lines himself up with your entrance, the warmth of your body already luring him in. The moment he pushes in, your soft, velvet walls envelop his tip, and he knows he's a goner, and he never wants to let you go. You're his.
"Fuck, you're squeezing me like a fuckin' slut; I can barely slide my cock in when you do that!" Tony groans out as you let out a string of broken moans at his words, your nails scratching his back to ground yourself as the pleasure builds quickly. He slowly rocks back and forth, your pussy stretching gradually around his girth.
"Oh, you like it when I talk dirty, don't you? When I call you out for what you are, just a slut who wants to be filled by my cock," Tony says with a mischievous smirk. As the words sink in with you, you let out a long, deep moan, unable to form a coherent thought at this point, but you're feeling so good that all you can do is let the pleasure take over now.
When he's about halfway in, he tears his gaze from his cock, sliding in and out of you to have a look at the way you're looking now. Eyes half-lidded and completely dark with lust, a flush on your cheeks, and your mouth slightly parted— a perfect sight for Tony to enjoy.
"Look at me, Sweets; look in my eyes and answer me. Does my filthy slut like it when Sir talks dirty to her? When I tell you that I'm about to fuck you dumb until you're nothing but a cockdrunk mess for me?" he asks you, and all you can do is nod right now. His words are nestling deep into your brain, and your nipples pebble at the thoughts he's planting.
"You're perfect for me, Sweets. Doin' so well for me right now," he then praises you, and a flush appears on your cheeks from the sudden change in tone. He keeps carefully sliding in deeper, ensuring you have enough time to adjust to his length and girth as he does.
"Color?" he asks when a soft whimper suddenly tumbles from your lips. The last thing he wants is to cause you discomfort, and he will ensure you are given the chance to speak up if needed. Even though it takes you quite a long moment to gather your thoughts, you finally manage to tell him you're good to go.
"M so fucking green," you tell him with a sudden boost of confidence, and his mouth curls into a knowing smile. Now that he's satisfied with your answer, he starts to thrust in deeper, and the second he hits your sweet spot, your head falls back, and you moan loudly, your nipples even perking up at the sensation.
"Hmm, does my girl like it when Sir is this fucking deep? I bet you do, huh?" he asks, and you nod in response. It feels incredible, and you want more of it. You want Tony to stretch you and fuck you until you can't walk anymore. You want all of that and more.
"Y-yes!" you tell him, and he almost pulls out before slamming his cock deep into you, pulling the most delicious scream for your chest as you can't hold it back.
"Scream for me, scream my fucking name as I fuck you," Tony says through gritted teeth. He thrusts his cock deeper into you, and you are sure you can almost feel him in your throat with how deep he fucks you. He hooks his hands behind your knees before lifting them and practically folding you in half on the table.
When you're comfortable in your new position, he leans in, pressing his chest against yours and placing your ankles on his shoulders. In this position, he can truly fuck you deep and hard, and your back arches against him as the pleasure inside you builds even higher this way.
"God, look at you; you like being bent in half, don't you? I can just put you in whichever position and fuck you however I want, can't I?" he says, but you're too far gone even to realize what he's saying. The moans that are coming out are practically endless. Despite that, he can feel you gripping onto his cock like a vice, sucking him deeper with each thrust.
"My little slut enjoys it when I fuck her stupid, huh? Yeah, that's why you're moaning for me. And here I thought you were just an innocent little girl. Oh no, you're a fucking slut who likes to be told what to do, aren't you?" he asks, the table now shaking and more items falling off from the intense rocking motions.
"Y-yes! M your slut!" is all you can bring out as he sets a pace that has you seeing stars. The way his balls smack against your ass makes a sound that has you blushing intensely, and the squelching sound your pussy makes with every thrust has you only getting wetter.
"Can't wait to stuff you full with my cum, then watch it drip out before I fuck it right back in with my cock," he tells you, and it makes you feel like you're floating as it sets your veins on fire at the same time, you have never felt this dirty yet so good at the same time.
"Yes! Please fuck your cum in me," you moan out before pulling him towards you by his hair, your lips colliding in a bruising kiss, your tongues fighting for dominance. The combination of everything together has you moaning into his mouth as he keeps fucking you, and before you know it, you're cumming hard.
With a scream of his name, you squirt all over his cock, legs, and the floor, your legs trembling uncontrollably and your vision going white around the edges for a moment. Tony keeps praising you as he fucks you through it, and you're clenching down on his cock as you cum, making him unable to hold out any longer as well.
"Yes, yes, YES! Oh god, you fucking squirted like a perfect girl! I can't believe how lucky I am right now, Sweets! Getting squirted on by my girl feels so fucking amazing!" he pants out, and it does not go unnoticed by you that he calls you his girl.
"M yours, m all yours, Tony," you say between ragged breaths, and with those words, he has reached his orgasm as well, as he shoots every last drop of his cum into your tight heat. He can't stop moaning your name over and over again as he nuzzles his face into your neck, needing to have you as close as physically possible.
"You're absolutely amazing, Sweets—an amazing woman, an amazing journalist, and, above all, my amazing girl. Because I'm not letting you go after this," he whispers against your neck, and you agree as you wrap your hands around his neck.
"All yours," you tell him. The two of you stay like that for a few more moments before Tony has to pull out, his cock too sensitive to remain inside you any longer.
"Shall we take a bath together?" he offers, and you nod. After throwing on Tony's t-shirt, which is about three or four sizes too large and practically a dress on you, he walks you to the elevator that goes right to his penthouse. He just pulled on his jeans without bothering to button them; he'll be pulling them off shortly anyway.
Thankfully, the bath doesn't take long to be drawn and ready. You let out a soft groan as you sink in the hot water, allowing your sore muscles to relax. Tony follows you soon after, having gotten two bottles of water and some fruit to enjoy while you're in the bath.
"Y'know, I was trying to be gentle with you, but as soon as I figured out you're just a filthy slut like me, I couldn't hold back," he whispers in your ear as you're straddling his lap, his cock trapped between your bodies. A lopsided grin lies on his lips as he looks at the blush developing on your cheeks, and he wants to make you blush even more because it has quickly become his favorite color.
Instead of answering, you lean forward to capture his lips with yours as your fingers glide into his messy curls to pull him closer. The kiss starts slow as you discover the feeling of his lips sliding over yours, but as time goes on, your tongues begin to mingle, too. The taste of something exciting and new invades all your senses, and you're hooked, only wanting more of him and how he makes you feel.
When you finally pull away, there's a smile on your face, but Tony can tell it's not reaching your eyes. The smile he's been craving to see isn't fully there, and his brows are furrowed at the realization.
"What's on your mind, Sweet Girl?" Tony asks, and you drop your gaze as the embarrassment replaces the butterflies that were going crazy in your stomach.
"S nothing, Tony," you whisper, but he knows that's not true. If it has you feeling like this, there is probably something wrong, and he wants to learn all about it so he can fix it, no matter what he would have to do for you. He'd fly to the moon and back if that's what you wanted him to do, no questions asked.
"I may not have known you long, but your mood doesn't turn from one end to the other without a reason. I respect it if you don't want to talk about it, but I also think it will make you feel better if you do," Tony tells you before he gives a soft kiss on your forehead.
With a soft sigh, you plant your hands on both sides of his arc reactor, and the slight hum coming from it makes you feel a little more at ease. It's barely noticeable, but it's enough to calm your nerves, and you decide to tell him what's exactly on your mind. When your eyes lock onto him, you can feel tears burning at the corners of them, a bit afraid of what his response will be.
"I-Is this just a one-time thing? Because if it is, I'd like to know now so I can prepare myself for the heartbreak later," you whisper, the tears spilling over your cheeks. You've been through this too many times to count, and you do not want to be on the receiving end of yet another rejection.
"What? Of course not, Sweets. When I told you you're mine earlier, I meant it. I mean it! We've built a connection over the past three months that I have not felt with anyone in a long time, and I definitely do not consider this a one-time thing. I'm so fuckin' in love with you, I would be crazy to let you go now," he says, and your eyes grow wide as saucers at his confession.
"Y-you're in love with me?" you stammer, the butterflies in your stomach immediately returning at his confession.
"I am, Sweets. I've never met anyone as smart, caring, and sweet as you. And you're very easy on the eyes, too," he says with a wink, making you smile.
"I wouldn't have had sex with you if I didn't think it would go anywhere after today, Baby. You're too special for me to let go, and I want to explore whatever this is between us. But most of all, I'd like to kiss you right now because these lips have been calling my name the entire time," he says as he leans in, capturing your mouth with his.
When you pull away, you give him a soft smile before nuzzling your face into his neck, his arms wrapped around your waist as he pulls you closer until you doze off for a short nap. When you wake up, Tony wipes some hair out of your face, and you're met with a gentle smile on his face.
"How're you feeling, Sweets?" Tony asks before popping a raspberry in his mouth, the sweet yet tangy taste invading his mouth as he listens to what you have to say.
"Good. Tired- but good," you tell him with a dopey smile. You're fully relaxed as you sit in the bath with the man you've fallen in love with. And now that you're his, life couldn't be any better.
"I'm glad. And for the record, I meant what I said earlier. I'm not letting you go after this, especially after I've gotten my slice of heaven earlier," he tells you, and you let yourself melt against his body.
"I know, and I don't want to go, Tony. I want to stay in our slice of heaven for as long as you'll have me," you tell him, sealing the deal with a soft, gentle kiss. After that, you let out a small sigh of relief before Tony hand-feeds you more fruits, and you've never been happier in your life than you are now.
What started as nothing more than another job for you has developed into a new chapter of your life, and you're excited to see where this story will go from here on out.
#anyfandomfluffbingo#multifandom-flash#tony stark#tony stark fanfiction#tony stark fanfic#tony stark one shot#tony stark request#tony stark imagine#tony stark x female reader#tony stark x reader#tony stark x y/n#tony stark fluff#tony stark smut#iron man#iron man fanfiction#iron man fanfic#iron man one shot#iron man request#iron man imagine#iron man x female reader#iron man x reader#iron man x y/n#iron man fluff#iron man smut
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Are your requests open? I would love to request a dad!carlos fic if you feel like it ❤️ also side note, I’m not a huge Max fan but your baby fever fic literally had me kicking my feet and giggling so well done
Picture of Perfection - Carlos Sainz
<word count - 9785>
If you were being honest with yourself, you shouldn't have been in work today. You had never felt worse, and it was really putting a damper on your performance. You had been Fred Vasseur's assistant since he had replaced Binotto at Ferrari, and your job was pretty easy.
You sorted his schedule and his emails into different sections. But today, you couldn't even muster the energy to respond to the numerous unimportant emails that Fred received on a daily basis. Your head was throbbing, you felt sick to your stomach, and you wished you could shrivel up into a ball and die.
As the phone rung, the shrill ringtone felt like a nail being tapped into your skull with every note, and you were sure your head was going to explode. Picking up the call wasn't at the top of your to do list, but if it stopped the ringing, then it was worth it.
"You're speaking to Y/N, how can I help?" you said, trying to sound as cheerful as possible. As long as people didn't look at you, there was no way to tell that you felt like you were dying. "I think you're the one that needs help," a voice chuckled, and relief flooded you when you heard it.
"Did you call to talk to Fred, or to make fun of me, Carlos?" You asked your oh so sympathetic fiance. "We have our fun, but I was calling to check up on you. How are you feeling, querida?" he asked, his tone changing to a slightly more soft one.
"I'm fine, just a little rough. I'll bring your lunch down in a few," you said, checking the time on your computer. "You really don't sound fine," he pressed, but he had bigger things to focus on today. Him and Charles were testing out some upgrades on the car.
"I will be after lunch, I'm sure. Can you ask Charles if he wants anything as well?" You said, walking to the canteen. Carlos knew you wouldn't be fine, but he would wait to see you to make his final decisions about what he would do with you.
You heard some muffled voices through the phone, before Carlos said, "Yeah, get him the same as me, I'll see you in a minute," he said, putting the phone down. You trudged down to the canteen and picked up the food for the pair of them.
As you walked, people cast dubious glances in your direction. You knew you felt awful, but it was apparent that you weren't looking great either. You kept your head held as high as you could as you wandered down to the garage, and found Carlos and Charles sat by their cars as the mechanics adjusted some things.
"Lunch is served," you smiled, painting on your best poker face. But, there were cracks running through from the start, and Carlos saw straight through it. They both thanked you as you handed them their lunch, and you stepped to stand back beside Carlos.
"Come on, tell me what's wrong," Carlos said, barely loud enough to be heard over the noise of the cars and machines that the engineers and mechanics were running. "I promise, I'm OK," you reassured him. He knew that was a lie, and so did everyone around you.
Your skin was paler and your eyes looked sunken. You were also looking more dishevelled than normal, since you were usually quite bright and bouncy. "If you don't tell me what's wrong, then I can't help you," he said, looking up at you with those big brown eyes.
His fingers slowly trailed up and down your spine as you stood next to him, and you felt a wave of nausea rush over you. The smell of the oil, the fuel and burning rubber caused your stomach to twist in knots, and you firmly gripped your hand onto Carlos' shoulder to steady yourself. You were slightly dizzy and unsteady on your feet.
"Hey, hey, sit down for a second," he told you, standing up and gently pushing you towards the seat he had just vacated. Sitting down was arguably the last thing you needed right now. Your eyes darted around the garage, hunting something down that would be the best option to spill your guts into.
Nothing checked out.
Your last option was to sprint to the bathrooms at the back of the garage, and you came up with all of this in around a second. Your mind had never worked so fast. Within a blink of an eye, you had run all the way across the garage, hand firmly pressed against your mouth.
"Shit," you heard Carlos say behind you as his footsteps followed you closely. You barged through the ladies room and into the first open stall. Everything that you had eaten throughout the day exited your body in a violent wretch, and your throat was left burning and raw.
"You're OK, just let it out," Carlos said, rubbing your back and pulling your hair out of the way. You looked up at him, concern written all over his face. "You guys OK?" you heard Charles shout, confused at how fast everything had gone south.
"Could you pass me a water, please?" Carlos called back, going to the door to catch it. Throwing it might not have been the best idea, but it certainly was the quickest. He cracked it open, before handing it to you.
"Thanks," you said, your voice scratchy and hoarse as you spoke. The taste of it still lingered on your tongue and it was far from pleasant. "I'll go get your stuff, then I'll drive you home," he said, handing you some paper towels from the dispenser.
"I'll be fine, it'll pass," you said, taking a sip from the water.
"No, you need to go home," he said, taking a step towards you. You were never sick, so this was unusual. He would be more worried about you if you were at work, because you'd be more comfortable at home.
You took another sip of your water. "Honestly, Carlos, I'll be fine in-," you started, before hunching back over the toilet. It was just straight water, and your body was rejecting everything you put in it. "You were saying?" he teased, leaning against the sinks.
You just looked at him, discomfort etched onto your features. "Come on, you're going home," he said, gently taking your elbow. "I can drive myself, you've got important stuff to do," you said, not wanting to interrupt his day.
"I'm on break for an hour, that's enough time to get you home," he said, his heart aching to see you like you were. "OK, I'll go and tell Fred I'm going,"
"I'll take care of all that, you just go to the car and I'll get your stuff," he told you, leading you out of the bathroom and back through the garage. "You alright?" Charles asked, realising how much worse you looked in the pan of five minutes.
"Yeah, yeah, I'll be fine," you weakly smiled at him.
"I'll be back in a bit," Carlos told him as he helped you walk out to the car. You sat in the passenger seat, actually quite glad to be going home. Carlos went to get your things, and came back to the car. "When we get home, you're going straight to bed," Carlos said.
"Sure, dad," you laughed, the motion of you giggling making your stomach churn. You closed your eyes for a minute, waiting for it to pass. "Just breathe, baby," he told you as if you hadn't already tried that.
"Easier said than done," you said, gripping your thighs to try and take the edge off, to focus your mind on something else. Without another word, Carlos took one of your hands and threaded his fingers through yours as he drove home. His thumb subconsciously ran up and down, just out of habit.
You pulled up outside your house, slowly stepping out of the car. You took another moment to steady yourself, the dizziness returning. "Take it steady, take it steady," Carlos softly instructed, looping an arm around your waist as he walked you inside.
"Couch or bed?" Carlos asked as you stood in the entrance hall.
"Couch, it's close to the kitchen and the bathroom," you said as he sat you on the couch.
"You want to get changed?" He asked. He had this compulsion inside of him to take care of you. Seeing you uncomfortable made him uncomfortable. It was like this itch inside his brain that couldn't be scratched unless you were happy.
"The less moving involved, the better," you said, flopping down on the couch and not wanting to move from your position. "I'll see what I can do," he nodded, ascending up the stairs and rooting through the drawers to find what he was looking for.
Yes, it was his hoodie, but you wore it more than him. He would wear it once, then it was yours for the taking. "Here, do you want a drink?" He said, passing you the hoodie. You slipped it over your head, not bothered to take off your clothes from work.
"No thanks, it would come back to bite me anyway," you told him, bringing your knees up to your chest as you settled against the armrest of the couch. "You need to stay hydrated, you'll feel worse if you don't," he said, disappearing into the kitchen and returning with a glass of water.
"I'll try," you said. Carlos picked a blanket up from the back of the couch and draped it over you, making sure you were cosy. "You need anything else before I go?" He asked, not wanting to leave you by yourself. This was one of those days where you would benefit from his presence, from him holding you.
"I don't think so, I'll see you later," you tried to smile, not wanting him to be late for the end of lunch break. Charles would be waiting for him and so would everyone else. "OK, call me if you need me, alright?" He said, approaching you and kissing you on the forehead.
"I will," you said, picking up the TV remote and pressing the 'on' button. You shifted around for a second, before finding your comfy position. "I'll be back as soon as I can," he called, closing the door and heading back to the factory.
After around an hour, you tried sipping at the water, but it just came back up after a few minutes. As the movie you were watching came to a close, you were left in silence after the entire credits had rolled.
You were left thinking. You hadn't been feeling too great for the last few days, but this was the worst of it. It didn't take much thinking for you to come to a conclusion. There were a few factors that added to it too.
Surely not though, right? And this wasn't the time for that. You and Carlos hadn't been engaged for that long, and you weren't thinking about that now. Maybe in a few years, yes, but definitely not now.
You sat there, fighting with yourself in your mind, feeling sicker with worry than you did with nausea. You told yourself you were being silly, and that you were just jumping to the most drastic conclusion possible.
Everything was going to be fine.
Carlos, on the other hand, was worried sick about you for a whole other reason. He thought you were sick, like, sick sick. Not the kind of sick you thought you were. He thought you had a stomach bug, but not a literal one.
Him and Charles had another quick, fifteen minute break to sit and have a drink while the mechanics tinkered on some things. "Is Y/N alright?" Charles asked, glugging some more water down. "Yeah, she'll be fine. It's probably just a bug or something,"
"You sure?" Charles questioned, cocking an eyebrow at his friend. "She's been off for what, nearly two weeks?" he said, referring to your numerous complaints about different ailments you had.
"I'm sure it's nothing," Carlos dismissed. You'd be right as rain again in a couple of days, that's what he kept telling himself. "You two have plenty of fun, just think about it," Charles smirked.
"No, no, mhm," Carlos shook his head in embarrassment, "I know what you're implying, but no," he rushed. "That you get up to a lot or what could be up with Y/N?"
"Both," Carlos said, standing and leaving Charles by himself. He couldn't think about either of those things right now.
--
"Carlos, is that you?" You called out, trying to act like everything was fine and you were feeling better. Well, you were feeling better, but you were just anxious. "Yeah, it's me," he said, walking into the living room and sitting on the couch next to you. "How are you feeling?"
"I feel alright, but the water came straight back up when I tried drinking it," you explained, not able to meet his eyes. He could tell there was something wrong by your body language. You were stiff and your hands were fidgeting.
"Come on, what's wrong?" he pressed, and you could feel his eyes burning holes into the side of your face. "Nothing, I feel fine," you told him, shrugging your shoulders.
"Then what's really wrong?" he asked, grabbing your chin and turning your head so that you were looking at him. You didn't want to tell him. You didn't want him to be mad. This wasn't part of the plan.
You whispered what you wanted to say, but so quietly it was unintelligible. You weren't even sure you had fully formed legible words. "Louder, querida,".
"I think I'm pregnant," you said, staring into his eyes, searching. Searching for any sense of anger, annoyance, hatred towards you. But you saw nothing but the soft brown eyes you had become so accustomed to.
"Have you done a test or anything?" he asked, not really knowing what to say to you.
"No, not yet," you muttered, averting your eyes down to your hands instead of at Carlos.
"Then I'll go to the store, pick one up, and we can see, OK?" he asked.
"Yeah, OK, sounds good," you nodded, and he was gone nearly as quickly as he came. You didn't have a clue how he felt, he was completely neutral. He didn't show any emotion.
Before you knew it, you had left the test on the bathroom counter and sat with your back against it while you waited for the time to be over. Carlos wordlessly came and sat next you, resting his hands on his knees.
"What're we going to do if I am?" you broke the silence, the question being on the tip of your tongue since he had gotten back home. "I'll support whatever decision you make, no matter what," he said, his tone dripping with sincerity.
"If I am, I want to keep it," you mumbled, waiting for him to yell at you or walk out.
"Then I'll be here every step of the way," he said, "I- I want a baby with you, Y/N, I really do," he told you, placing a calming hand on your thigh. "I feel like there's a 'but' at the end of that sentence," you nervously said.
"No, baby, no, there's no but. I mean it," he said, and a part of you felt comforted at his words. The minutes went by and they felt like hours. Long, agonizing hours. "How long has it been?" he asked.
"Two minutes, I think?"
"OK, we'll give it a bit longer so the results are clear and everything," he nodded. He didn't want to tell you how much he actually wanted you to be pregnant, just in case you weren't. He didn't want you to feel like you had let him down or anything.
"How are you feeling?" he asked, turning to look at you. You were still pale, and you were still mindlessly fiddling with your fingers. "I'm scared, nervous, but excited at the same time. I'll be kind of disappointed if I'm not, but also terrified if I am,"
"Well whatever the outcome is, I'll be here. If you are, then that's great. But if you aren't, we can think about it fully and maybe start properly trying if that's what you want," he explained, and it sounded like music to your ears. "What would we do about the wedding?"
"I'd still have our wedding if you were pregnant, but if you don't want to, then we can wait. I honestly don't mind," he smiled, his fingers tracing random circles on the skin of your thigh. You were counting your lucky stars that you had ended up with a guy like Carlos.
"You think we should check?" you nervously laughed, genuinely not knowing what you wanted the outcome to be. "Do you want to do it or do you want me to do it?" he asked, wanting to make this as easy as possible for you.
"Could you go and stand outside while I do it?" you asked, and he happily nodded and stood outside the bathroom as you closed the door. You blocked out the world around you. In this moment, it was just you and your thoughts.
You took a deep breath, trying to slow your heart rate down a bit. You thought prolonging it would only make it worse, so you turned over the test on the counter and had to clap your hand over your mouth to stop yourself from screaming.
You stared at it, as if looking at it longer would change it. As if it would make that second pink line disappear. You tried to compose yourself before going to tell Carlos. You were trying to hide the joy, just incase what he said earlier was just him being supportive.
"Y/N? Baby? Are you alright?" he said, knocking on the door gently. You didn't answer, unsure of what would come out if you opened your mouth. "Querida? Por favor, diga algo," (please, say something). You could hear the concern and worry in his voice, but your mouth wouldn't say the words you wanted it to say.
"Can I come in?" he asked, getting really concerned at your lack of a response. He wouldn't have been surprised if he walked in and you had passed out due to your silence. Just as he turned the door handle, you opened the door.
You looked at him, wide-eyed, as you handed him the thing that would change your lives forever. You searched his face, trying to find any hints of emotion. You could see the beginnings of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips, but you were certain your eyes were playing tricks on you.
You couldn't handle it anymore, so you threw your arms around his neck. "Are you happy?" he asked, not wanting to give his full reaction until he knew how you felt. "I'm ecstatic, you?"
"I'm over the moon, baby," he smiled, squeezing you back. He let you go, and you couldn't help but allow a few happy tears to slip down your cheeks."I think we're going to have to postpone the wedding," you told him, and he smiled and nodded.
"You're having my baby, your wish is my command," he said, vowing to be there through every little thing, and he was your slave for the next nine-or-so months. That was the least you deserved.
"This is amazing," you smiled, not really finding the words to express the joy you felt. It had all been so quick, but it had led to this, so you weren't going to complain. "Looks like you're stuck with me forever, now," you joked.
"I wouldn't have it any other way," he smiled, trailing his fingers up and down your hips. You were all he ever wanted, and now you were having his child. His child. It didn't sound real, but in the best way possible.
--
You had gotten home early, and you couldn't stop looking and touching at the small bump you had growing. You were around 4 months pregnant at this point, and you couldn't have been more excited for your impending arrival.
You had just received a text from Carlos, asking if you wanted anything from the store while he was on his way home. He did this every day, no matter the time, no matter how tired he was, no matter what.
You and your baby came before everything and anything, with no exceptions. He treat you like a princess, and sometimes he stepped around you like you were a paper-thin sheet of glass. He didn't let you do much by yourself anymore.
You didn't mind, but you had asked him to stop treating you as if you were incompetent. You replied to his text with a food combination you had been desperate to try all day. Your brain was just telling you it would be good, so you thought you would feed it what it wanted.
Carlos responded with a 'That's gross, but sure', and you couldn't help but laugh. He was back after fifteen minutes, your items in hand. "If you get ill, don't blame me, OK?" he laughed, handing you the jar of pickles as well as the peanut butter.
"I honestly hate how good this looks to me right now," you laughed as he took a seat next to you. "Y'know, the lady at the counter said, 'It's either you know someone who's pregnant, or you've got weird tastes," he told you as you cracked open the peanut butter with a pop.
"What did you say?" asked, trying to open the jar of pickles, but struggling immensely.
"I told her my fiance was pregnant, and she was relieved," he laughed, finding it very amusing to watch you struggle. "Hand it here," he said, and you passed him the jar with a huff. Effortlessly, Carlos opened the jar of pickles, and you hated the way you felt about it.
It just made you tingle all over, and you blamed the hormones for making you go crazy. It was just something about the way his arms flexed to make his muscles pop and how his knuckles went white because of how hard he was gripping the lid.
"You like what you see?" he smirked, handing you the jar again.
"Maybe I do," you replied with a grin, batting your eyelashes at him. He looked at you with the eyes, and they never failed to reduce you to mush and answer his every last little request. But you had him under your spell.
"Later, querida," he winked at you, pushing himself off the couch. "I'm going to have a shower, you think you can cope with the thought of me till them?" he teased.
"Oh I'll be fine, don't you worry," you giggled.
"But first, I want to see the disgust on your face when you realise how disgusting that combination is," he laughed, leaning over the back of the couch to look at you. You dipped the pickle into the peanut butter and took a bite out of it.
"OK that is actually really nice," you smiled, going back in for another taste. Carlos' nose scrunched up in disgust. "That is nasty, ew, no," be laughed, backing away and up the stairs. "You should try it!" you collared, and you were met with a hearty laugh.
When Carlos came back downstairs from the shower, his hair was wet and he look a lot comfier. A lot hotter too. "How were the pickles?" He asked, looking at the pickle jar that only had a quarter of the pickles left in it. And the half-empty jar of peanut butter.
"Great, you want one?" you offered, brandishing the jar in front of him. Carlos didn't like pickles on the best of days, but definitely not now. "Not a chance, that shit is nasty," he laughed, pushing the jar back towards you.
"I'll tell you what else could be nasty," you smirked, looking at him with a devilish smile on your face. "Oh, so you're being like that, baby?"
"Maybe I am," you said, leaning back and watching as that mischievous glint sparkled in his eyes. "I'll see what I can do for you, then," he grinned, walking towards you. You knew just what to say to make him tick, and you had done it again.
--
As much as your bump slowed you down, it didn't make you work any less hard. Fred had asked you to carry a box of some sort of documents down to the guys at the garage, and you were glad to be able to stretch your legs.
You got to the door to get out of the office, but you couldn't open it with the box in your hands. As any normal person would, you put the box on the floor to open the door, and then bent over to pick it back up.
"Hey, hey, hey, you OK?" Carlos appeared out of nowhere, pulling you back so you were stood upright. "Yeah, I'm just taking this box down to the garage," you nodded, appreciating the concern. He thought you were doubled over and in pain, but he was glad to be wrong.
"You go sit down, I've got it," he said, picking the box up.
"Carlos, I need to do something with myself, a bit of exercise is good for me," you told him, trying to pull the box off him. "No heavy lifting, that's what the doctors said, you can walk with me," he said, setting off through the door.
"You think that that box his heavy? You need to work out more, Carlos," you mocked, walking beside him. "No, but you know that's not what I mean. Minimal strain,"
"I think you pay more attention than I do," you laughed, skipping down the stairs.
"Someone has to take care of you," he playfully rolled his eyes at you, watching your every move as you hopped down the stairs. "Where do you want this?" He asked as you reached the garage.
"Just put it down there, they'll know it's there," you said, pointing to the corner Fred told you to put the box in. He had told the mechanics that it was there, and someone would come and find it later.
"What are you even doing here today?" you asked, the question suddenly dawning on you. You knew there was no testing on the car, and Fred didn't have any meetings with him or Charles today. "Just some stuff with the media people and stuff," he lied.
Well, half-lied. They did have a meeting with the media people, but that had finished an hour ago. He didn't need to be at the factory anymore, but he was compelled to keep an eye on you. It wasn't that he thought you were incapable of taking care of yourself, he just needed to be there in case anything went wrong.
If you needed him, he would be there. If something happened and he wasn't, he would never be able to forgive himself. "OK, well I'll see you in a bit," you said, seeing that something was up but not thinking too much about it.
You walked away and off to your desk to do another hour-or-so's work before you broke off for lunch. You checked Fred's calendar again, answered a lot of emails, but you felt a pair of eyes lingering on you.
You looked up from your screen, but you didn't see anyone there. But, as soon as you focused back on your work, you felt the eyes glued to you again. This time when you looked up, you saw a motion in the doorway in front of you.
Sighing to yourself, you figured you would leave Car- I mean the mystery individual to play their little games. You let him watch for a bit, let him think he had won. Then, you looked up again, catching him dashing behind the doorway.
"Carlos, what are you doing?" you called out, staring at the doorway. There was zero movement, and he clearly thought he was being slick. "Carlos, come on darling, what are you doing?" you called out again, and he slowly wandered out.
"I was just inspecting the doorframe, making sure it wasn't going to collapse or something," he rambled, leaning on your desk with his hands on the edge of the wood. "Sure you were, don't you have media stuff to be doing?" you skeptically asked.
"Yeah, actually, I have to go and do that, right now," he said, turning around and walking away as quickly as he could. It was very odd, but you just thought it was Carlos being Carlos.
Finally, lunch rolled around and you took yourself to the kitchen, where your lunch sat waiting for you in the fridge. The kitchen was empty, since you tended to take lunch later than everyone else, and it was nice to have some silence during the day.
Next to you, you heard something falling off the table, and turned to see a potted plant on the floor, with soil everywhere. Then you saw the perpetrator. "What's your excuse for sitting under a table while I'm eating my lunch, Carlos?"
"I was uh-," he stuttered, and you could see the cogs turning in his brain, trying to churn out an excuse. "Go on, lie to me," you said, staring daggers into his soul.
"Fine, I was just making sure you were OK, that's all," he breathed, sitting down opposite you.
"I can take care of myself, Carlos. You don't need to watch over me 'secretly' like you have been all day," you told him, watching as his cheeks tinted pink and he couldn't meet your gaze. "Querida, I know that, I just want to be here if you need me,"
"If I need you, I will call you. Go home, relax, have some peace and quiet. We will be completely fine," you reassured him, and you could tell he still wasn't fully convinced. You also didn't think it would take that much, but there you were.
"Look, I really appreciate you wanting to be here for me, I really do. But you don't have to watch my every move. If I need you, I will tell you," you further pressed, taking his hand from across the table.
"Do I have to go home though? I can just sit with you at your desk, bring you snacks, talk if you get bored. You won't even know I'm there, baby, I promise," he pleaded, looking at you through those big brown eyes.
"Go home, and take some time for yourself. It's not a request, it's an order," you said sternly. Carlos looked dejected, and he had resigned himself to the fact that there was nothing he could do. "Yes ma'am," he sighed, unhooking his jacket off the rack with a sulk.
"Please?" he begged one more time, standing by the door.
"Go home." You told him one more time. He pouted, and you glared at him. He knew not to argue with you when you were being really stern with him, and he knew he had to go. Carlos didn't know what he'd do without you at home.
He literally lived to serve you, and make sure you and your child were OK. That was his life, besides racing. He hadn't been by himself in a while, and he felt kind of lost without you. But he did as he was told, and went home, by himself.
The second he got home, he couldn't resist the urge to pick up his phone and text you. 'Hey baby, how are you doing?' and you just sighed, looking at your phone. There was no way you were responding to him.
'Hey, is everything OK?' he texted back around fifteen minutes later, the show he was watching wasn't occupying his mind like he wanted it to. No matter what, every thought in his mind was replaced by panicked thoughts of you, in pain or something.
He couldn't go by a second without worrying for you if you weren't around him. You ignored this message too, thinking it would teach him a lesson. 'Querida, if you don't tell me you're OK, I will come straight back to work,' he messaged, his leg nervously bouncing up and down.
He was staring daggers into the car keys on the coffee table, almost willing them into his hand by telepathy. When you read that text, you knew he was deadly serious, so you had to text him back. 'Carlos. You come back to work and we are going to have some serious issues. I'm fine,'
Carlos almost didn't want you to respond, just so he'd have the excuse to drive back to work. But he needed to know you were alright, he just wouldn't be able to make sure of that himself. He had a secret weapon lurking up his sleeve.
He might have been sent home, but he knew someone who hadn't been. Charles was at the factory, and he was actually supposed to be there, because he actually had meetings. He would check on you between meetings, and report back to Carlos.
You were sat on your desk, when Charles walked past and smiled. Obviously, you smiled back and didn't think twice about it. Ten minutes later, he came back and stood right in front of your desk, seeming to be doing something on his phone.
You caught his eyes as they flicked up from the screen and onto you, before he walked away. "Hey, do you know if Fred had any messages for me?" Charles asked, coming over to your desk. "No, nothing," you shook your head.
"Can you check?" Charles asked, as if he were expecting something, but you knew there was nothing. "There's nothing," you told him again.
"Fine, fine," he said, knowing there was nothing he could do, "How are you feeling?" he asked, leaning over the desk. "You can tell Carlos I'm fine and that nothing is wrong," you said, instantly sussing out what he was doing.
"I'm just asking how you are," he sheepishly explained, rubbing the back of his neck.
"You're a bad liar, I'm fine," you said, resting your head on your hands.
"But he-"
"Charles. Tell him I am fine," you instructed, glaring at him. He put his hands up defensively, backing up from the desk. "OK, OK, I get it," he said backing away and out into the hallway. He texted Carlos to tell him that you had foiled their plans.
You rolled your eyes as he walked away, but a small grin spread on your lips at the thought of him, texting Charles and asking him to watch over you.
--
"Shit," you whispered to yourself, turning over for the literal thousandth time. No position was comfortable, your overly swollen stomach got in the way at every turn. You just decided to lie there in the dark, your eyes wide open as you stared into the blackness.
There were rims of moonlight coming through the sides of the curtains, but that was it. Carlos was so tired after a day at the factory, and he had been out for hours at this point. In the end, you thought you'd lie there until you became so tired you would pass out.
No matter what, everything was aching. Your back was constantly sending uncomfortable shoots up your spine, and it made everything a challenge. Including falling asleep. This combined with the pounding in your head didn't help. Turning your head to the side, you saw that it was nearing on three am.
You turned your attention back on the ceiling as you thought about what you were going to do tomorrow. Well, later that same day. You had been on maternity leave for around two weeks, and you had already done everything you wanted to do around the house.
Time ticked agonizingly by, the silence and darkness driving you crazier by the second. And more frustrated at the lack of sleep you were getting. Just as you were going to go downstairs and do something to try and make yourself tired, the bed shifted next to you and the bathroom light flicked on.
You stayed in the same position, expecting him to just walk back to bed and not notice you. The second before he turned the light off, he notices your open eyes looking back at him. "Hey, baby, did I wake you up?" he asked in a hushed whisper, getting back into bed and shuffling as close to you as possible.
"No, don't worry. I wasn't asleep," you said, sighing.
"What, so you haven't slept?" he asked, lying on his side to face you as his fingers traced shapes on your stomach. "No, I can't," you shook your head, hoping he would just brush it off and go back to sleep, but you knew he wouldn't.
"What can I do?" he asked. You may not have been able to see him very well, but you could feel his eyes burning holes in the side of your face. "I'll fall asleep soon, I'm really tired," you told him, your right hand tangling into his dark locks.
"Well then, what can I do to help you fall asleep quicker?" he lightly chuckled, prodding you gently in the ribs. "You've had a long day, darling, go to sleep," you instructed, not wanting to make him tired later.
"You've had just as long a day as I have, querida, you need to sleep too. You not sleeping isn't good for you, it isn't good for the baby, and that therefore means it's not good for me either," he chuckled. "So you're trying to guilt trip me into letting you help me?" you asked, and you could just picture the smirk you knew was on his face.
"Yes and no, and I know it's working. We're in this together, if you're awake, I'm awake. If you need something, I am here," he told you. You weren't the biggest fan of always relying on him for things, since you liked to have some form of independence, but it was times like these where you were extremely grateful to have someone so caring and doting.
"So, do you want a tea, or an extra blanket, or we can go and do something until you get tired?" he listed, masking the yawn he was letting out. "A tea sounds great," you told him, and he was gone like a flash. "Do you want anything else while I'm downstairs?"
"Could you grab two paracetamols and my book off the coffee table?" you asked, the hall light switching on outside. "Headache?"
"No points for guessing that one," you laughed, rubbing your temples as Carlos headed downstairs. A few minutes later, he was back, with a perfectly brewed tea in one hand, and your book with the paracetamols balanced on top of it in the other.
"I didn't make it too hot so you can drink it straight away," he smiled, "Watch your eyes," he said, turning the lamp on as you screwed them shut. It took a second for them to adjust, but you were fine after a few seconds.
He handed you the mug and the white tablets, downing them in a second. "Thank you," you smiled, and you could still see the tiredness in his face. "Anything for you," he hummed, setting your book in your lap and sitting next to you.
You had nearly finished your tea, and it was already making you feel sleepy as the paracetamol seemed to be working on your headache, it turning from a pounding to a soft thumping instead. As if on cue, you and Carlos yawned in unison.
"I think we should probably try sleeping now, yeah?" you asked, shimmying back down under the covers and putting your book aside. You wouldn't need it after all. "Yeah, yeah, c'mere," he smiled, switching the lamp back off and shuffling into you. He pulled you against him, his chin resting atop your head as his hand lazily trailed across your stomach.
Even now, it was a strange sensation that he relished. Knowing that your baby was just beneath his fingertips, only separated by a few centimetres, made his heart sing with glee. It made him look forward to the impending day that they would arrive even more, and he couldn't wait to hold them and give them the best life possible.
He knew the two of you would be brilliant, loving parents to your child, no matter what. He also knew there'd be hard times, but you'd get through it together. Just like you always did.
"Goodnight, darling," you sleepily whispered, tangling his legs with yours.
"Goodnight, baby," he mumbled into your hair, trying to force himself to keep his eyes open. Unless you were asleep, he wasn't allowed to. Thankfully, he waited for around ten minutes and he was confident you were fast asleep, and nothing could harm you.
Not while his two favourite people in the whole world were at home, in his arms where he could keep you safe until the end of time. That was how it would always be, for forever and longer if the world would let him.
--
God you were tired. Well, you had every right to be. No more than an hour ago, you and Carlos had welcomed your newest family member into the world. You nearly refused to sleep so you could watch over her, but your body wouldn't let you stay awake.
"Baby, please sleep. I'll watch her, she'll be fine," Carlos had told you, even though his body was also desperate for rest after being there through every second of the 9 hour labour process. He didn't care about himself though, he could stay up for hours to make sure you got the rest you needed.
You were exhausted, and deservedly so, and he would happily wait up for longer to give you the time. Also, he couldn't take his eyes off of your sleeping daughter. She was absolutely perfect in every way, and she was currently sleeping in the corner as he watched her.
You were sleeping lightly, your parental instincts keeping you on edge, ready to strike into action at the drop of a hat. The silence was nice, as well as the lack of pain. It was like your body was floating you felt so peaceful, yet alert. Carlos was holding your hand, his habit of running his thumb up and down not being broken just yet.
His eyes were pinned on her, monitoring her every breath, searching for any tiny abnormality. She was his responsibility, and he was not going to let a single thing happen to her. He had only held her once so far, and he was so desperate to hold her again, but he couldn't wake her.
He wasn't even able to hold you right now, so his arms felt cold and empty. Every now and then, he would check the digital clock on the bedside table on the other side of you, just to see how much time had passed by.
He lost track after a while, and your girl woke up, the small beginnings of a cry escaping her lips. "Hey, hey, cariño," he said, approaching her and picking her up. One hand was under her head, the other one under her back as he handled her like she could shatter at any given time.
He held her against his chest, lightly bouncing her from side to side. His every touch was as delicate as a feather, not wanting to harm her in any way. "You're OK, Daddy's here," he soothed, rubbing her back. She was slowly getting louder, but he didn't want to wake you up.
"Shh, don't cry, you don't want to wake Mommy, she's tired," he said as if she could understand him. It was almost as if she had, however, because her cries quietened and stopped as she fell silent against Carlos' chest.
"Thank you, cariño," he smiled, planting a kiss atop the soft skin of her head, "Now let's sit down and wait for Momma to wake up," he told her, refusing to put her back down in her cot. He wanted to keep her tucked against his chest, where she was safe.
She was so tiny against him, her back barely the size of the span of his hand. It felt so weird to have such a high amount of love for such a tiny someone, but she was just too perfect not to adore with every fibre that he had in his being.
"While we have some Daddy-daughter time, there are a couple of things I want to say to you," he started, looking over at you to see if you had woken up. Your eyes were still closed, and your position hadn't shifted, so he assumed you were still asleep.
"For starters, you have no idea how excited I am to finally be able to meet you and hold you. I guess you'll only really know if you have your own kids. But I don't want you thinking about that yet, you're not allowed a boyfriend or girlfriend or whatever whoever you like until you're at least twenty-one, and I'm serious about that,"
"Next up, you're going to have to work with me here, I am going to teach you Spanish so we can gossip and your Mom won't know what we're saying, since she failed miserably when I taught her Spanish. No sabía escuchar y siempre estaba distraída," (she was not a good listener and always got distracted)
You didn't have a clue what he had said to her, and you didn't like the sound of not being able to understand what they could be saying. But, you had to bite back a giggle at his comment about no romance until she was twenty-one.
"Finally, since I'm sure you're already getting bored of me talking at you, but get used to it, I promise I will love you no matter what, until the day I die. I will protect you and keep you safe, no matter how old and frail I might become,"
"I also hope you know just how lucky you are to have the best mother in the whole entire universe. I might not always be with you, since I'll be racing, but she will be. You will grow up with the best role-model you could ask for, and I know you'll be a fantastic person too. I love you, cariño,"
"Thanks for making me cry, Carlos, I appreciate it," you spoke up, wiping the tears from your eyes. You loved what he had said, and your hormones were still all over the place. "You weren't supposed to hear that," he chuckled, shifting in his seat to face you more.
"You can try and teach me Spanish again, I don't want to be left out," you smiled, looking at the perfect picture that was set out in front of you. "Sure, we can try that again," he nodded.
"Can I have her?" you asked, holding your arms out for him to put your precious girl into. Carlos just smirked and shook his head, "No, she's mine,"
"Please?" you pouted, leaning forward to try and take her away from him. You just wanted to hold your daughter, it really wasn't a big ask. "OK, baby, OK," he triedly smiled, placing her in your arms. "But move up, I want to sit with you," he said.
You made sure she was comfortable, and scooted to the side so he could sit on your hospital bed with the two of you. He wrapped an arm around your shoulder, not able to stop his fingers from brushing against her.
Carlos was finally able to close his eyes and let his guard down. He was finally able to rest for a bit. Not for too long, but for a bit. "Hey darling, before you sleep, we're sticking with the name we chose, right?" you asked.
"I think it suits her," he sleepily nodded against your shoulder. You agreed, and left him to get some well-deserved rest. He had been there through every torturous second, sat through all the abuse you had hurled at him, and stuck through his hand getting crushed or his shoulder being punched.
And he'd do it all over again. He'd do it all for his girls, he'd do anything.
--
"She's normally very talkative, but she's just pretending to be shy," you laughed with Toto as Harper giggled and buried her head in your neck. She was always the center of attention at every race, and she had grown to know a lot of people.
Toto received a text, and had to dash off. You thought it would be best to head back to the garage anyway, so you set off across the paddock. A couple of people were having interviews, and she waved at her favourites as you passed by.
She waved at a certain curly haired boy, and his eyes lit up at the sight of her. Sure, he was in an interview, but he just said, "Sorry, I have to go," and dashed over to the pair of you.
"Well if it isn't my favourite little lady!" Lando exclaimed, plucking her out of your arms as she willingly let him take her. "Muppet!" was all Harper she said, since it was her way of greeting him since she had heard Carlos say it a few times.
"Now what is this?" he asked, poking her in the stomach and making her giggle uncontrollably. "Your Daddy might race for Ferrari, but your favourite uncle Lando doesn't. This should be papaya, not red," he playfully scolded, tickling her even more.
Her laughter was contagious, and you could see other drivers and personnel around smiling at her. The cameras clicked as the press took some photos, and you could tell she was loving the attention.
"I also wear red, therefore she is in the perfect colour," Charles said, popping up beside you. "Carlos is just finishing up an interview, he'll be out in a few," Charles told you, as Harper held her arms out to him and did the grabby hands.
"I have been replaced, my heart is hurting," Lando said with feigned sadness as he clutched at his heart. Thankfully, Harper was used to being passed around from person to person often, so she didn't much mind.
"Think how I feel, she's always leaving me for one of you," you laughed, nudging him in the ribs. "You do make a good point, but you're not her favourite uncle," Lando said, folding his arms and he swayed from side to side.
"No, you're not, I am," Charles said, bouncing around with Harper on his hip as she continued to giggle at him. "We're not starting this now," you sighed, not wanting to hear the favourite uncle argument again.
But before they could answer, Harper was on her feet, running away from Charles. Tag was their favourite game, and he could never say no to her when she asked to play. Well, he never said no to her in regards to anything, but tag was the most important.
"Charles, be careful!" you called, not able to not worry about her running around a very crowded place. "I know!" he called back, slowly jogging to try and catch up to Harper.
"Don't worry Y/N, I'll keep an eye on them," Lando grinned, and you could see he was itching to get involved in the game. At this point, Harper was chasing Charles as fast as her little legs could carry her, but Charles was barely even walking away from her.
But, Harper saw opportunity strike when she saw Lando next to her. She hit him in the leg with a squealed, "Tag!" before turning and running away.
"Harps, you're just too fast!" Lando laughed, trying to chase her. His sights turned on Charles, however, who was cowering away from him. As Lando set off on the hunt for Charles, Harper laughed and clapped her little hands, "Run, Charlie, run!" she shouted as Lando grappled Charles and tagged him.
Harper started to run away again, when an arm slithered around your waist. "I have to be in an interview while you guys are all out here having fun, so unfair," Carlos smiled, pulling you into his side as he kissed you on the head.
He was so glad that his best friends were so good with his daughter, and she loved them just as much as they loved her. "I know, it's just so unfair," you laughed, smiling at him as he watched Harper, his eyes full of love and wonder.
The two of you chuckled as Charles caught Harper, picking her up as he tickled her. She squirmed in his arms, fits of giggles sounding out around the paddock. "Stop it!" she laughed, hitting him in the chest.
"Oh hey Carlos," Lando said, breathlessly coming and standing next to you. At the mention of her Dad's name, Harper's attention turned from Charles to Carlos. "Papa!" she exclaimed, wriggling out of Charles' arms and running over to Carlos.
She leapt into his arms as he picked her up and spun her around. "Hola, cariño, ¿qué tal?" he asked, holding her on his hip as she squished his cheeks. "Estoy bien, ¿y tú?" she smugly grinned, loving that she could show off the Spanish Carlos had been teaching her.
"Yo también," he proudly smiled, "Eres muy inteligente, ¿lo sabías?" he said, and your understanding of his words stopped right there. "Yo no comprende," she looked at him, confusion written all over her face.
"All I said was that you're my clever girl, sweetheart," he smiled kissing her on the cheek. She let out a giggle of happiness, her smile lighting up Carlos' face. You could watch them together all day, and it was your favourite form of entertainment.
He kissed her on the other cheek, and she scrunched her nose up. Carlos started kissing her all over her face, as she squealed and squirmed. "Daddy, stop it! That tickles!" she laughed, trying to push his head away from her.
"Does it? I hadn't noticed," he chuckled as he carried on. But he eventually stopped, leaving her breathless from laughing. Harper rested her head on Carlos' shoulder as you, Charles, Lando and him stood and talked.
You noticed she hadn't said anything in a while, so you stepped to stand behind Carlos. "Harper? Sweetheart? Are you tired?" You asked, her eyes looking droopy as you brushed a lock of her dark hair out of her face. It was nearly as dark as Carlos'.
"Mhm," she nodded, her face squished against Carlos' shoulder.
"OK, do you want to go for a nap?" you asked, gently massaging her scalp.
"Yeah," she yawned, all of that running around with Charles and Lando clearly making her tired. "Come on then," you said, she flopped out of Carlos' arms and into yours. She buried her head in the crook of your neck, her breath soft on your skin.
"I'm going to her to your room, I'll see you guys in a bit," you said, rubbing your hand over Harper's back soothingly. "Yeah, that's fine, is she OK?" Carlos asked, instantly thinking she had fallen ill or something, "Estoy cansada, Papa," she mumbled, lifting her head to look at her Dad.
"OK, I'll see you later," he nodded, kissing Harper on the head and tugging you close to him for a kiss. "See you later, Harps, say bye to Muppet and Charlie," you told her. She smiled at the two drivers, waving them goodbye.
"Bye," she sleepily chuckled, and Charles took her hand and kissed the back of it as he smiled at her. "Sleep well, Harper," he said, and she always giggled at the charm of Charles.
"I'll beat you in tag next time, little lady," Lando smiled, fist bumping her before you walked away. You took her all the way over to the Ferrari motorhome, and into Carlos' drivers room. It was quiet in there, and the couch was comfortable enough.
"Do you want to sleep on the couch?" you quietly asked Harper as she looked up at you with those big brown eyes that were identical to Carlos', and you could see the tiredness in them. "No, I want to sit with you," she mumbled, shifting around until she was happy in your lap.
"OK, sleep well, sweetheart," you said, planting an affectionate kiss on her head. For a while, you just sat there, Harper soundly sleeping on you. You looked at the table opposite you, and all of the pictures on there brought back the best memories in your life.
One of them was the day Harper was born, and you were sat in the hospital, sleeping with her on your chest. Another was of the three of you on a carousel when you went to a carnival the previous year. You took the picture, and Harper was smiling while sat on Carlos' knee as the horse flew up and down.
The final one was just of you, and you remembered it was from on of your first dates with Carlos. He had offered to take a picture of you with the full moon behind you, and it instantly became his favourite photo.
The door to the room opened, and you were initially alarmed. You were afraid that the person thought Carlos was in there and were going to wake up Harper by accident. "Hey, baby," he quietly said, slowly closing the door behind him.
"Hi, darling," you smiled as he came to sit beside you.
"How long has she been asleep for?" He asked, his hand moving to the back of your head and gently playing with your hair. You pushed your head into his hand, the feeling sending warm tingles through your brain.
"Half an hour, she was asleep as soon as we sat down," you told him, slotting yourself into his side like a puzzle piece. "Do you want me to take her? Your legs are probably getting numb," he said, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and pressing a kiss into your hair.
"I'm alright, I don't want to wake her," you told him, leaning your head onto his shoulder.
"OK, but let me know if you want me to take her," he told you, resting his head atop yours. You closed your eyes for a moment, just feeling a little sleepy. But you had what you wanted, and all you needed in your life.
Carlos looked down at his girls, both sleeping and safe with him. You had given him everything he wanted in his life, and he would never be more grateful for that. The two of you were the picture of perfection, and neither of you would have it any other way.
A/N - This has been a long time coming, but it's here! Rest assured, all requests are being worked on! Also, I know I always give them daughters, but they're all girl dads to me, y'know? Feel free to submit any requests, I love to write them! Hope you enjoyed 💖
|masterlist|
#f1#f1 imagines#f1 x reader#f1 x you#formula 1 imagines#fluff#formula 1 x you#formula 1#formula 1 x reader#f1 x y/n#formula 1 x y/n#carlos sainz#carlos sainz x reader#carlos sainz x you#carlos sainz x y/n#carlos sainz imagines#cs55#cs55 x you#cs55 x y/n#cs55 x reader#cs55 imagines
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❥︎ 𝐁𝐚𝐛𝐲 𝐁𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧
❥︎ 𝐁𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧!𝐌𝐚𝐧𝐣𝐢𝐫𝐨 𝐒𝐚𝐧𝐨 𝐱 𝐁𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤!𝐅𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫
❥︎ 𝑪𝑾: 𝑳𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒔𝒕, 𝒅𝒊𝒔𝒄𝒖𝒔𝒔𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝒂𝒃𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒐𝒏𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕
❥︎ "__" 𝒓𝒆𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒔 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒏𝒂𝒎𝒆
❥︎ '𝑲𝒈𝒐𝒔𝒊' 𝒊𝒔 𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒏𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒄𝒆𝒅 "𝒄𝒐-𝒛𝒚" 𝒐𝒓 "𝒈𝒐-𝒛𝒊"
❥︎ ᵃ/ⁿ: ʰᵉʸ ʰᵉʸ ʸ'ᵃˡˡ! ʰᵉʳᵉ'ˢ ᵗʰᵉ ᶠⁱⁿⁱˢʰᵉᵈ ᵖʳᵒᵈᵘᶜᵗ ᵒᶠ ᵐʸ ᵇᵃᵇʸ ᵈᵃᵈᵈʸ!ᵐⁱᵏᵉʸ ˣ ᵇˡᵃᶜᵏ!ʳᵉᵃᵈᵉʳ ᶠⁱᶜ! ᵇᵘᶜᵏˡᵉ ᵘᵖ, ᶜᵘˢ ˢʰᵉ'ˢ ᵃ ˡᵉⁿᵍᵗʰʸ ᵒⁿᵉ. ⁱ ʰᵒᵖᵉ ʸ'ᵃˡˡ ᵉⁿʲᵒʸ! 👋🏾
“Kgosi! Be careful love!”
The little tot’s shrieking laughter can be heard in response, his tiny feet carrying him towards you.
A large smile plastered across your face, you crouch, arms open expectantly. Kgosi tosses himself into your embrace, giggling happily and gesturing to be lifted.
Standing, you bring your baby boy with you, holding him gently but firmly and twirling a couple times in place. Again, that familiar laugh that never fails to warm your heart can be heard in Kgosi’s excitement.
“Yay! Again!” Your baby claps, the movement clunky and uncoordinated what with his chubby hands.
“Noo, not again baby. Mama’s a little dizzy.” Kgosi frowns but his disappointment is quickly forgotten when he recognizes where you’re carrying him.
The baby’s face lights up, black eyes twinkling with newfound mirth.
“Swing mama, wanna swing!”
You place Kgosi safely in the bucket swing, lightly flicking the fat of one of his cheeks and chuckling as he shies away with a bright smile and yet another tiny giggle.
“Hold on tight ok?” Kgosi nods determinedly, little hands gripping the rubber coated chains on either side of him.
“Ready mama!” Nodding, you take your place behind your son, pulling the swing up and back until the seat rests just above your head. You’re preparing to let go when a voice from behind startles you.
“Miss __ __?”
In your surprise you release the seat, your son’s shrieks of joy sounding as he swings back and forth.
Turning, you face the man whom the voice belongs to, and you're shocked and a little disturbed to see he's a large scar running almost the circumference of his head, pale against his skin and visible though he stands a distance away from you.
He’s dressed in all black, and you can see his eyes moving as he watches your son.
Stepping into the man’s field of vision, you lay your arms defensively across your chest, expression flat and unamused.
“That depends. Who’s asking?”
The black clad man’s eyes snap up to your face, and for a moment, you two engage in a tense stare down.
Eventually, he relents, sensing that you weren’t going to.
“I am here on behalf of Manjiro Sano. He wishes to hold an audience with you.”
A sudden, sharp bolt of lightning zips down your spine upon hearing that name.
It had been quite literally years, and you’d not heard hide nor hair of the once invincible man.
You’d managed to convince yourself that that was a good thing.
“Why?” That one single word is so loaded with other lingering questions and feelings and anger that the man shifts uncomfortably.
“I was only told to deliver the message, nothing more.”
You can tell the man knows more than he lets on, but refrains from saying anything else. Perhaps out of a sense of respect for Manjiro. Perhaps out of a subconscious desire to spare you the details.
Whatever the reason, you find yourself a little peeved that he won’t spill, but nevertheless, you acquiesce.
“Fine. But I’m taking my son somewhere safe first.”
“Actually,” the scarred man moves to take a step forward, quickly aborting the movement when you equally as quickly step back, feeling behind yourself for Kgosi.
“Stay there. I don’t want you any closer to my son.”
The man nods, returning to his previous position.
“Actually,” he begins again, one hand slightly outstretched as a sign of submission. “The King requested that you bring your son along. He wishes to see him as well.”
Upon hearing Mikey be addressed as “The King,” you lift a disbelieving brow.
“Really? He’s having you refer to him as “The King?” You know, I become more glad everyday that he left me alone.”
You’re more so speaking to yourself, and the man clears his throat to draw back your attention.
“When you’re ready, I will escort you both to the designated meeting place.”
With that, the man turns and begins walking off, your eyes watching him closely as he does.
Turning, you finally address Kgosi, who has long since stopped swinging and has, rather uncharacteristically, been quietly watching the entire exchange.
“Who dat mama?”
Unsure of how exactly to answer the question, you respond with the first thing that comes to mind.
“He’s one of daddy’s friends baby.”
At the mention of his father, little Kgosi begins to bounce excitedly where he’s still seated.
“Daddy yay!”
Despite your gripe with the man, you can’t help the sad smile that curls your lip at your son’s enthusiasm.
‘If only you knew, son…’
It takes a bit to get Kgosi situated and gather up your belongings, but once you do, you find the scarred man leaned against a nearby tree, arms folded across his chest, awaiting your approach.
"Ready?” He queries, standing to his full height.
You give one solemn nod, following when the man beckons.
The ride is a quiet one: neither you nor the man asks questions. The only sound is that of your son’s absentminded babbles as he plays with his car toys and the occasional “look mama!” when you pass something he finds particularly interesting outside.
You try to keep as engaged as possible, but your mind is running a thousand miles a minute.
‘What on Earth could Manjiro want with us now?’
After about 30 minutes and seemingly endless pondering, you arrive at a little house on the outskirts of the city. It’s not a place you immediately recognize, and this causes you some alarm.
“Why did he want us brought here?” The question comes out more severe than you intended for it to. The man side eyes you, hesitating before speaking.
“The King thought that perhaps you’d be more comfortable and apt to talk somewhere that was a little more quaint and a little less busy than his usual residence.”
“Less busy than his usual residence, you say? I can only imagine the shit he gets into.”
“Lang’ge mama!” Your son gasps, causing you to chuckle.
“Sorry baby, you’re right. Mama should watch her language.”
The man watches silently, trying to suppress a small smile at your interaction with your son.
“Right this way.”
Once you’ve all exited the car- presumably something expensive now that you’ve paid it any real attention- you begin making your way up the porch steps to the front door.
Kgosi insisted on walking himself, so your right hand is occupied by his left. The scarred man offered to carry your bag, and you let him, figuring he had no want or need for diapers and coloring books.
The trek up to the door seems endless, and you attribute that mostly to nerves. It’s been so long since you’ve heard so much as a whisper about Manjiro and his current whereabouts and endeavors, let alone actually seen him.
Ken and the others looked for him for a time after he disappeared, but after some less than savory occurrences, of which you never got the full details, they left that pursuit alone.
“It’s-...it’s difficult, I know, but it’s better this way, __. Mikey clearly doesn’t want to be found.” Ken’s words were heavy and laced with a barely concealed sorrow.
You’d agreed at the time, even though the elusive man lingered in your thoughts on occasion.
Now you were faced with the prospect of meeting him in person again after so long and after so much had transpired.
And not just you, but your son as well.
Releasing a breath you weren’t aware you were holding, you take more confident steps into the foyer, lightly squeezing Kgosi’s hand to calm him from where he bounces excitedly on his feet. You’re in the process of removing your and Kgosi’s shoes when the man speaks.
“One moment. Please, feel free to peruse this area while I step away.”
Before you’re given the opportunity to respond, the man jets off, leaving you and Kgosi to wander around for a bit.
The house is indeed rather quaint; homey and sensible, while still containing modern fixtures and appliances.
You peek into the kitchen, finding it to be fully stocked and in pristine condition.
Not thinking too much about it, and at Kgosi’s insistence, you take a box of apple juice from the refrigerator and offer it to your son, making sure to throw away the plastic wrapping the straw came out of.
Moving along, you encounter what seems to be the first of two living areas.
It’s decorated in warm, neutral colors. The couch, upon sitting, is found to be very soft (Kgosi has a blast bouncing on it) and a large flat screen TV rests atop a stone fireplace.
Behind the couch is open space covered in a large, ornate carpet. Beside it, floor length windows showcase a lush, well manicured garden space, which your son seems quite eager to explore.
“Maybe a little later, son. I don’t want your clothes getting soiled or to track dirt.”
Kgosi pouts, but quickly goes back to enjoying his juice and bouncing on the couch.
You, on the other hand, resume being caught up in your thoughts.
You’re so caught up in fact, that you don’t immediately notice when the scarred man returns.
“Miss __?”
You jump just a bit at his sudden appearance.
Standing, you lift and tuck Kgosi against your hip, nodding to the man and following when he motions for you to do so.
You can practically feel your heart about to beat out of your chest the closer you get to the room where Manjiro presumably is.
Each step feels heavier than the last, until finally, the floor slips from underneath you entirely as you round the corner.
There sits Manjiro, your first love, and the father of your pride and joy.
“It’s been a while, hasn’t it, __?”
You’re too stunned to speak, though you can feel yourself subconsciously tightening your grip on Kgosi.
Surrounding Manjiro are three men, each more bizarre looking than the last. From where you’re facing him, on Manjiro’s right stands a pair of guys, both with black and purple hair, though one’s is longer and the other’s is gelled to the side. They resemble one another, and you assume they are, at the least, related.
On Manjiro’s left is perhaps the strangest looking man thus far.
His hair is bright pink, and he’s got two large, diamond shaped scars on either corner of his mouth. He sports a wide grin, and you quickly look away from him, deciding you don’t like the way he, or any of them for that matter, makes you feel.
Mikey simply watches as you observe his men, his dull, black irises remaining fixated on you and Kgosi.
“What do you want, Manjiro?” You speak suddenly, and the air in the room immediately shifts from tense to even more so.
“What do you mean, __? I clearly wanted to see you,” his eyes slide to Kgosi. “And our son.”
“Ok, but why now?” You grit out the words, becoming more agitated by the second.
Mikey doesn’t respond, refraining from moving for a second before he gestures to the seat before you.
“Why don’t you take a seat, love? You seem irritated.”
“I’m fine right here.”
“__, I’m asking nicely-”
“I said I’m f-...”
“Sit down!”
The sudden outburst catches you off guard, as well as Kgosi, who covers his ears.
“Loud mama!”
Breaking eye contact with Manjiro, you turn to Kgosi, placing a small kiss on his forehead. “I’m sorry baby,” you throw a pointed sidelong glance at Manjiro with your next words. “We’ll be more quiet.”
You think you can see the beginnings of a smirk start to shape Manjiro’s mouth, but the movement is quickly aborted.
The silence having returned, you slowly take a seat, adjusting Kgosi’s position in your lap. Mikey watches you closely the entire time, his eyes never leaving you or Kgosi’s forms.
“Now, that wasn’t so hard was it? Besides, sitting is much more comfortable than standing when you're carrying weight isn’t it?”
You’re not sure why Manjiro is asking such asinine questions, but you can’t help the urge to roll your eyes.
“I ask again, Manjiro, why now of all times did you apparently want to see us so badly?”
The man doesn't immediately answer, and you can feel your brow twitch.
"Does there have to be a specific reason as to 'why now?' It's not like you were doing anything particularly important right? I just felt this overwhelming urge to see my two favorite people."
You level Manjiro with a scathing glare.
"Your two favorite people huh? You don't typically just abandon your two favorite people with no explanation, especially not when they're your son and his mother."
You could swear the temperature in the room drops at least a little bit, your frosty ire palpable to everyone.
Manjiro simply smiles, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes. His jaw is clenched the most minute amount, and you can't help but feel some satisfaction that you struck a nerve.
“You’re completely right. This isn’t typically something you do. Unfortunately for us, our circumstances are anything but typical.”
You can’t suppress another eye roll, Kgosi shifting slightly on your lap. He’s been quietly eyeing the strange white-haired man for the entirety of the conversation thus far. He’s not quite sure, but he feels some sort of strange connection to him.
“It doesn’t matter what excuse you give, Manjiro. None of your wack ass machinations can justify your decision to abandon us.”
Manjiro is no longer smiling, instead his eyes are boring into yours. His jaw clenches even tighter.
“I only did what I did to protect you both.”
“From you, right? You and your little freakshow menagerie.” You let your eyes pointedly drift, to one by one land on the other occupants of the room. None of them seem too off-put by your choice of words; the pink haired one’s seemingly permanent grin even appears to widen.
“I mean come on, your little chauffeur here even insinuated it. The kind of crazy shi-,” your son gives you a glance, “stuff, you get up to in your normal residence. Look at you! You’re pale, bordering on sickly. The bags under your eyes are so deep and dark it looks like someone painted them on with black ink. I can see the beginnings of bruises on your arms and despite the air of authority you’re trying to maintain, I can tell you’re exhausted.”
You finally settle back in your chair from where you’d unconsciously leaned forward. Try as you might to suppress them, you can feel the tears beginning to build along your waterline.
“Why, Mikey? Why on Earth did you choose this life, this life of danger and misery, over us?”
It’s quiet for several long moments, and even the pink haired man is no longer grinning.
You and Mikey are locked in a severe staredown, but you can feel your resolve crumbling.
There’s nothing there.
Beneath his gaze, there lies only a dark emptiness, and you can’t help but feel that helping him now is beyond your power.
Just as you feel the first tear fall, you hear a tiny gasp, and quickly your son shimmies out of your grasp, running over to where Manjiro sits and smacking him on the arm.
“You make mama cry! Bad!”
The pink haired man makes moves to grab something from behind his back, but is quickly stilled by Mikey’s raised hand. You notice this exchange with no small degree of horror and disgust and anger, appalled at even the implication of what that man was trying to do.
Manjiro leans forward and down, meeting Kgosi’s determined stare with one of his own.
The two lock eyes for several seconds before Manjiro smiles, and this time, it does seem to reach his eyes.
“Good boy. I’m proud of you for protecting your mama.” Manjiro begins lifting a hand, and Kgosi immediately retreats back to you, only this time, he remains standing protectively in front of your legs.
“You a bad man! No touch!”
Manjiro lilts what sounds like a genuine laugh, and the tension in the room somewhat dissipates. You’re not 100% aware of it yet, but a pleased Mikey means less pain and less of a bad time for everyone involved.
“He’s brave! And smart too. You’ve done an excellent job raising him, __.” Black eyes, so similar to Kgosi’s own, flick down to his little form.
“Tell us your name, little guy.”
Kgosi hesitates, unsure if he should listen to the man who made his mama cry. He relaxes some when he feels your hand on his shoulder.
“It’s ok baby, you can tell them.”
It takes a moment or two, but eventually your son mumbles out “Kgosi,” before turning and gesturing to be lifted. You quickly oblige him, settling him in your lap, his head snuggled against your neck.
“Kgosi…a strong name. What does it mean?”
The words seem caught in your throat for some seconds, before you’re finally able to speak.
“It means King.”
Another laugh, this time louder and more raucous, escapes Manjiro, his head thrown back. The other men wear small smiles as well, all except the pink haired man, who goes back to sporting his large grin.
“It means King! How fitting. You truly are perfect. I knew you’d be an excellent mother.”
“And yet you left me. Left me to raise a child all on my own with no support, financial or emotional. Don’t think you get to laugh now and everything is just forgiven and forgotten. I’m still pissed at you, Manjiro. And I get the feeling I will be for a very long time to come.”
The tense atmosphere has returned, and Mikey has long since stopped laughing.
Instead of responding verbally, he stands, slowly making his way over to you. You can feel your baby shaking, and the thought that this man, who was supposed to serve as protector and provider, causes his own son to shake in fear makes you positively seethe.
Sensing your anger, Mikey stops just a few steps shy of you, and instead kneels down on one knee, never breaking eye contact with you.
“__. I know I’ll most likely never be able to make you understand why I left. I know that in your eyes, what I’ve done is…unforgivable. And I accept that burden as mine to bare. But all I ask, is that you put aside your rage, just for now, so that I may know my son.”
“You’re not entitled to him.” Your words shake around the edges.
“After what I’ve done, you’re absolutely right.” Manjiro lifts his bandaged right hand, placing it over his heart. “But I have no desire to possess you. Either of you. I only wish now to step up, and do what I should have done from the start.”
Manjiro extends his arms. “May I please hold our son?”
Time slows and seems to drag out endlessly.
Manjiro wasn’t there when Kgosi was born. He’s never gotten to hold him, though that was entirely his own fault.
You’d always dreamed of the day that he would, though. The day that Manjiro would sweep you both into his arms and cradle you protectively against his chest.
The day that he would return to you, fervent apologies and heartfelt whispers of love and adoration falling from his lips.
Snapping back to the present moment, you level Manjiro with a hard stare, before finally speaking.
“I suppose that’s fine. But, Kgosi gets the final say.”
Looking down, you address your son, who still watches Manjiro skeptically from the corner of his eye.
“Kgosi hun, do you mind letting daddy hold you?”
Everyone waits with bated breath to see what the little tot will say.
Eventually, after several lengthy seconds, Kgosi simply nods, and begins to wiggle out of your embrace. You let him go, watching with sad eyes as he carefully makes his way over to Manjiro, whose arms have remained outstretched for the entire exchange.
Slowly, Kgosi leans into Manjiro’s chest, and you could swear you see the muscle in the man’s exposed chest jump.
Manjiro immediately closes his arms tightly around Kgosi, gently resting his head on top of the boy’s. A shuddering, relieved sounding sigh can be heard from Manjiro, and he begins slightly rocking from side to side.
“My son, I’m so sorry.”
He lifts his head to address you, and you startle somewhat upon seeing the unshed tears lining Manjiro’s waterline.
“My love, I owe you an apology as well.”
You can’t speak, your throat constricting as you fight to hold back your own tears. Instead, you silently watch as Manjiro stands, lifting Kgosi with him. He takes measured steps towards you, finally stopping and kneeling down before you.
“My decision to do what I did, not even just towards you, but to everyone else I left behind as well, was incredibly selfish. But I truly thought it was for the best. I’m afraid I’ve fallen into the darkness, and I don’t foresee a way out. I would never wish to drag you along into this hell, and so I abandoned you, separated myself as far away from you as possible to protect you from the monster I’d become.”
The tears are falling steadily now, and you’ve the sudden great urge to snatch Kgosi and flee. Perhaps your eyes communicate some of this desire, because Manjiro leans forward, lowering his voice to almost a whisper.
“I’m not going to hurt you, __.”
A sob rips from your throat, and yet you’re able to remain relatively upright in your seat.
“You already have.”
Now it’s Manjiro’s turn to cry, silent streaks trickling down his cheeks, hidden from view of the other men in the room.
“I know, I know I have, and again, I am so sorry. I promise now though that I’ll be there for you, you and Kgosi both. You’ll never want for anything ever again- just say the word and you’ll have it, whatever it is you need.”
At this point, Kgosi is becoming a little restless. He whines quietly and wiggles in Manjiro’s grasp. The man looks to you for help.
“He’s sleepy. He hasn’t had his nap today.”
Nodding once, Manjiro hands him to you, Kgosi quickly adjusting himself and snuggling into your chest. You begin gently bouncing and rocking him, and soon the little tot is fast asleep in your arms.
Manjiro lovingly strokes a finger down Kgosi’s cheek as he sleeps, cooing very quietly as the boy subconsciously leans into the touch.
“He looks just like you.” He eventually says, eyes still fixated on the sleeping child.
“He’s got your eyes.” You speak in return, somewhat unsure of where that response came from.
Your heart still aches with the pain Manjiro’s caused, but that same pain, which once radiated sharp and persistent, has begun to fade to a dull echo. You don’t know that you’ve completely forgiven him yet, but as you watch him gaze upon your son with a glimmer of light in his eyes, you think you may be becoming more ok with the notion.
“I mean it, __.” Manjiro’s voice is stern, his expression determined when he turns to look up at you. “I may not always be there physically, but say the words, and I’ll come running.”
You search Manjiro’s face, eventually deciding that yes, he’s serious.
“Alright. But you had better uphold your promise. Else I won’t forgive you next time.”
Manjiro gives one slow, solemn nod of understanding. He stands, gesturing to the scar-headed man for something.
He brings it over quickly, and from where you’re sitting, it appears to be a paper sleeve with something in it.
Deciding against immediately launching into asking questions, you sit patiently while Manjiro unsheathes whatever’s in the sleeve out of your view, staring at it momentarily before turning and handing it to you.
Your eyes shift back and forth between the two, and you wait for an explanation.
“My other hand’s kind of occupied at the moment so I can’t take whatever this is out of the sleeve.”
Another gesture and the job’s done for you, and you do your best not to jostle Kgosi too much when you gasp.
“I-is that-...”
“Yes. It may seem a bit excessive, but this is the best of the best. And I want you to have nothing less.”
“People are bound to ask questions when I use this.”
“Then you’ll just have to tell them to fuck off and mind their own business, hm?” Manjiro smiles at you, and again, it doesn’t reach his eyes.
“Or,” he leans down, lips inches away from yours. “You could always tell them about how much of an excellent provider your husband is.”
You look away, flustered, and Manjiro laughs, the sound tinkling like a little bell in your ear.
You take the card, now back in the sleeve, from the scar-headed man’s hands, gingerly placing it in the breast pocket of your coat.
“Well I uh…thank you, Manjiro.”
The man hesitates, leveling you with a critical stare.
“No nickname for me?” You’re a little caught off guard by the question. Your brow furrows in confusion.
“What, you want me to call you Mikey?”
“No, I want you to call me-”
“I am not calling you daddy or some shit like that.”
A snicker can be heard from the purple haired men, which is quickly silenced by a look from Manjiro.
“No, call me like you used to. When we were kids.”
You rack your brain trying to remember what other name there could be when the memory comes crashing into you.
“Mani?”
Visible only to you, a bright blush colors Manjiro’s cheeks, his eyelids fluttering slightly.
“There it is. I knew you remembered. Call me that from now on, yeah?”
You roll your eyes but the movement is fond. “Sure.”
After that, the scar-headed man gathers your things, and you’re escorted to the front of the residence.
As you leave, you notice that Manjiro doesn’t follow, and panic briefly bubbles up in your chest.
“Manji-! Mani,” you quickly correct yourself. “W-...will we see you again?”
The man is silent for some seconds, and you fear he’ll say no, before he walks over to you, leaning down and forward and placing a tender kiss on your forehead.
“There’s a number on the inside of that sleeve. Memorise it, keep it somewhere safe. As I said before, whenever you need me, call me, and I’ll be right there.”
Manjiro sounds so certain, so reassuring, that for the umpteenth time today, you feel yourself about to cry.
A wobbly smile curves your mouth, and Manjiro returns it with a steadier one of his own.
“Remember you said that. I’ll be calling you pretty soon, you hear? Kgosi’s got his kindergarten graduation ceremony comin’ up and you had better be there.”
Mikey lifts his bandaged hand, laying it over his heart. “You have my word. Just send me the details when you get the chance.”
Satisfied, you turn and follow Mr. Scar out of the room and out to the car. Once you’ve got Kgosi settled, you turn to get into the passenger seat, finding Manjiro watching you from one of the windows.
You wave, and he returns it, and your heart begins to ache with the thought of having to be away from him again.
Pushing the pain aside, you slide into the front seat, and soon Mr. Scar is pulling out of the driveway.
The ride back proceeds smoothly, and some minutes into its duration, you turn to observe the scarred man.
At this point, you’re frankly sick of calling him that, so you decide to simply ask:
“What’s your name? No offense, but I’ve been calling you variations of “the scarred man” in my head since we met, and if it’s all the same to you, I’d like to stop doing that.”
The man’s eyes slide toward you before sliding back to the road.
“Kakucho. You can also call me Hitto if that’s easier.”
You think on it for a moment, before finally settling for a name.
“Kaku!”
The car swerves slightly at your outburst, and you laugh at Kakucho’s expression.
“What, you don’t like it? I tend to nickname all the people I consider close, and I assume we’ll be getting to know each other at least a little more now that I’ve reinstated contact with Manjiro.”
You smile at him, and you can see the man fight down a smile in return.
“Yes, I suppose so.”
“You can just call me __ by the way, no need for formalities.”
Instead of contesting, the man only nods, and you relax back in your seat.
It feels like it’s becoming easier, accepting the notion of forgiving Manjiro. You don’t know the full story, and you can’t deny that you’re still somewhat wary of who and what he’s become, but you know that you still hold love for him, even despite it all. And if he wants to be there for Kgosi, well, even better.
#tokyo revengers#tokyo rev#tokrev#sano manjiro#manjiro sano#sano manjiro x reader#manjiro sano x reader#mikey x reader#sano mikey manjiro#tokyo revenger x reader#mikey sano#x black reader#black reader#x black fem reader#bonten#bonten timeline#bonten tokyo revengers
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The Beast Within
Gaara x f!reader
Summary: with the inability to control the sand demon Shukaku, it’s up to Y/N to bring Gaara and the demon back to peace
Warnings: injury, self harm, angst, swearing, topics may be sensitive
With the pressure of my lids bearing down against my eyes in an attempt to shut out the scene in front of me, hoping, praying that it was a horrible dream… the guttural screams of Gaara still pierce my ears and drop to a sickly feeling in my stomach. My hands clench over my ears as the screams die off to a dull ringing noise. I find myself shouting, but I can’t even hear myself anymore, forcing my eyes to witness Gaara worn out and barely conscious as Shukaku begins to take his final form. I’ve never seen the horrid beast first hand, I’ve never wanted to either to be honest. An ambush against the sand that had resulted in a particularly strong rogue summoning the sand demon had blind sided us all. Just as Shukakus tail slams down ahead a strong set of arms wrap around me and pulls me back under the shelter of a building. When I turn I see Temari shouting at me, but I only hear snips of her words over the ringing,” Go…. Run… Shelter… Gaara… Help…Possum…”
I shake my head violently, shaking away the ringing as the rumbling ground takes over the sound in my ear, watching as Temari turns back to me,” Y/N, I said you need to go and find shelter. We need to find a way to get Gaara help before he goes Possum.”
She blocks my view of the scene in front of me as Kankuro swings down from the balcony above us and jabs a finger upwards towards the chaos,” not gonna to happen. We’re too late. We have to find a way to wake him up… quickly.”
Shukaku’s horrendous cackle sends a shiver down my spine as we watch him trample almost dead center through the village.
“We have to reroute civilians, this is going to get very messy if we don’t get them to safety.” Temari huffs out, quickly grunting in frustration,” Kankuro, take the left side, I’ll get the right. Y/N, find Baki… anyone that can help. Send word to the leaf if we have to.”
“Temari, we don’t have time to request help from a village that’s days away. We need to focus on waking Gaara up.” Kankuro lashes out, starting towards Shukaku.
“Civilians first, Kankuro.” Temari seems almost hurt putting the village before her own brother. It was understandable, the last thing any of us want is to lose Gaara.
“I’ll work on waking him up.” I pipe up, dusting the sand from my vest and standing wobbly from hearing loss vertigo. Temari stutters in her steps, shaking her head in worry… maybe even disbelief,” Y/N, it’s too dangerous. You can get hurt or even killed. Going up there is a death wish.”
“Then I guess it’s a good thing we’re willing to sacrifice our lives for someone we love.” I muster out, internally panicking at the risk and my legs quickly becoming like rubber at the thought. But it was a risk worth taking if it was for Gaara. To him, I may just be an advisor or a paper pusher, or a Jonin of the sand village that was his neighbor. But Gaara… he was everything. The man who has rebuilt the village in morale and trust. The awkward neighbor who would drop off a cactus that reminded him of me, or even bring extra food Temari made for the night when I’d come back from missions. Even the person who just happened to be outside late at night when going for a stroll to clear my head. He saved me from my own demons. He owed me nothing, yet I feel like I owe him my life.
I take off towards Shukakus tail, seeing it was the best vantage point to get to his head where Gaara lay comatose. My vest is ripped backwards from Kankuro behind me,” are you sure you’re prepared to physically hurt Gaara to save him, or do I have to do it myself?”
“I can do this, Kankuro. Now get off me!” I shout out, tearing his hand from my vest and continuing on. I make it to the base of Shukakus tail, focusing chakra to my feet to climb the erratically moving tail, whipping back and forth in to lower buildings and leaving a path of rubble. A shock of pain spreads through my back as I’m slammed against a porch while gripping tightly at the sand like texture of Shukakus armor.
“What is crawling on me? Do I have pests?!” Shukaku bellows out, slamming his tail down in quick strides and almost knocking me off. I can’t help but shriek as his tail crashes down one last time, sending debris crashing down on top of me. I can only cough air in to my lungs and continue on as the beast becomes severely agitated, leaving no room for thinking as he falls forward in to more houses. When he stands, it seems he’s distracted elsewhere to notice me,” who would’ve thought puppets would be such an inconvenience! I finally have time to shine and you try to take me down with a puppet? You’re ridiculous!” Shukaku lets off a horrifying shriek of pain as I see the glimmer of blue threads weaving crow back and forth as a distraction to lure him away from the village. I can only manage to hold on to the demons lower back as he waddles in to the arid desert sand. I watch as he slams crow to the ground and find Kankuro shaking his head. He mouths a few words to me, but it’s a horrible day to not be able to read lips. I find my foot throbbing and dare to look down at the blossoming purple streaks that peek out from above my sandal. But I still push forward, finally making it to the back of Shukaku’s head.
“You’re a persistant little thing aren’t you? Nobody is home up there, it’s just me twerp.” Shukaku laughs out, tilting his head back.
My good foot slips, sending me sliding backwards a few feet before I can find my grip. My legs dangle above the rough sand below as my one hand holds against whatever it can grab. Wincing out, I thrust my other hand to reach for the serenity of some solid mass beneath it. The first try I slip off, yelping as both hands almost lose traction. The second try is a complete miss, but I finally manage to strike gold on the third. My abdomen burns as I pull my full body weight upwards, finally getting a view of Gaara, dangling loosely almost dead center of Shukakus face. I swing my bad leg over and manage to find my feet steady to walk over to Gaara.
“Gaara, anything I’m about to do to get you to wake up, I’m apologizing for now. This is going to hurt me more than it’s going to hurt you… maybe.” I ramble out nervously, watching as Shukaku’s eye focuses on me.
“You’re little for how annoying you are. He’s asleep. Leave him be so I can have my fun already!” Shukaku whines out, similar to the toddlers that play in front of my balcony every evening.
“Listen buddy, you’re making my job a lot harder than it needs to be. You’ve had your fun destroying half our village.” I yell out to his eye, not quite sure where to even look.
“A feisty one. What’s your name pest?” He grumbles out, shaking beneath me as he tries to prevent another fit of laughter.
“Y-Y/N.” I stutter out, confused. His laughter can no longer be contained as he whips his head backwards again, sending me crashing towards Gaara,” Y/N is it? I’m going to have fun killing ya!”
I cling tightly to Gaara’s morbidly lifeless form tilting my head up to confess upon unhearing ears,” Gaara, I’m sorry. I’m not sure what I got myself in to… but I’m going to wake you up if it’s the last thing I do.”
“He can’t hear you! You’re so pathetic it’s almost cute!” Shukaku yells out, twisting his head around to try and shake me loose. He stabilizes quickly as a rush of wind flashes against us. I turn to the direction it came from, seeing Temari’s fan fully open. Wind slices against us harshly, creating small tears in my clothes and even knicks on my face. In the moment of steadiness, I steel down, gripping Gaara’s shoulders to hold him steady. I can only freeze in the moment, seeing the tired rings around his eyes as his hair dangles loosely over them. It was almost serene that in a moment of chaos, he seemed to finally be at peace. I hesitate, quickly deciding to try and slap him awake. Shukaku only laughs at my attempt,” a measly slap won’t do a thing. I like the dedication though little pest!”
He shakes again, trying to reach an arm towards me that’s quickly deflected by another slice of painful wind. I reel back, gripping against Gaara’s sleeve as I send a fist flying to his forehead. I can only wince as bone meets harder bone, a trickle of blood coming from each of us. He only juts forward from the impact, causing my frustration,” come on! Come on, wake up damnit!”
I send fist after fist to different areas, his shoulder, the side of his face and even a cheap shot to his stomach. Nothing had worked. The uneasiness at the thought of using any jutsu works its way to the front of my mind. It had to be last ditch with the risk of burning Gaara, but I was running out of time. I manage to link my arm around Gaara’s to keep hold as Shukaku begins to rumble once again, conjuring balls of flames around us. Quickly unfurling from his arm, I tumble down and roll towards Shukaku’s eye, smacking the back of my head hard against the lower surface of his face as the balls of fire make impact against Gaara and Shukaku’s other eye.
“Now you’ve gone and done it! You’ve pissed me off!- w-what’s happening?” Shukaku bellows, tumbling back and reaching to cover his eye. Swiping my hand against the back of my head, it comes back bloody and my vision hazes. But I’m snapped back to wavering consciousness as a moan sounds faintly from Gaara.
“Gaara, Gaara wake up! Please!” I whimper out, crawling towards him, keeping one hand steady to weakly attempt at healing the back of my head and avoiding any pressure on my fully purple ankle.
“Y/N? … is that you?” Gaara coughs out, eyes still clamped shut and body flailing.
“Y-yeah. It’s me, I’m not going anywhere until you open your eyes, okay?” I yelp out as Shukaku’s hand manages to clip at my feet.
“Y/N, where are you? Are you hurt?” He breathes out, eyes beginning to flutter open and wander around.
“I-I’m fine. Just look forward and try to find Temari. Don’t focus on me, damnit!” I shriek in pain as Shukaku shakes once again, angered at seeing Gaara regain consciousness. I meet Gaara’s frightened gaze upon seeing me, my breath hitches at the pain constricting his face,” Y/N-“ he tries grasping at my now outstretched arm, disoriented by another assault of wind from Temari. Shukaku bows forward as she finishes the previous injury to his eye. My own eyes grow in horror, stretching out to try and grasp Gaara’s outstretched hand as my body slides forwards. Our fingers brush before I feel any solid ground beneath me disappear.
“Y/N!” Gaara shouts, becoming fully aware at this point as I look up, plummeting the long distance to the ground quickly. As I close my eyes in acceptance, a strong force tackles in to me from the side, laying me down gently as Kankuro’s voice wavers in and out,” I guess you really were prepared, huh?”
That’s the last I remember before waking with a dry throat and aching body. My eyes slowly adjust to the pulsing white lights signaling I was in the hospital.
“Take it easy killer. We don’t need you almost killing yourself again.” Kankuro huffs out from the doorway. I look over to see him posted against the frame, watching inside and out of the room like it was his duty to guard me instead of visiting.
“Kankuro! Gaara, we need to get ba-“ I begin, abruptly cut off by Kankuro’s sigh of annoyance,” you knocked yourself silly for a few days after trying to play hero. It’s over. He’s alive.”
“Alive doesn’t mean he isn’t hurt. Why are you being so bitter?” I spit out, staring back to the ceiling.
“Bitter? We could’ve lost both of you. You should’ve let me do it. Now look at you, it’s pathetic.” Kankuro growls back. I chuckle slightly, feeling the pain wrack against my ribs,” you’re mad because you couldn’t be the hero? I’m sorry but the village would miss me a lot less than they would miss you.”
Kankuro exhales heavily, sitting next to the bed to whisper harshly,“It’s not the village I care about missing you. The village is important, don’t get me wrong. But the thing that separates you and me… even Temari. My family comes before this village. It could burn to the ground for all I care if it means my family, and the ones they love… Live. It’s not about being a hero. It never was.”
“Good news, Gaara is alive. And so are you and Temari. You look to be in perfect health, so stop being so damn angry over something we can’t change. I’m just an advisor, Kankuro. If anything I mean more to the Kazekage than Gaara as a person.” I whisper back to him, wondering at this point why we were even whispering in a room that contained only us. I continue on after turning away,” sometimes love is a one sided story, Kankuro. You wouldn’t know that. If I can’t love them personally, I can at least sacrifice myself for the ones I love. I’d rather die heroically, than be known as someone who was head over heels about someone they meant nothing to. Now get out of here. I’m sick of your attitude.”
“Y/N, I’m sorry. I-“ Kankuro begins. A tear trickles down my cheek to my pillow and I stifle the silent sob,” Please leave Kankuro.”
“Am I… interrupting anything?” Gaara pipes up sheepishly after brushing clumsily against the open door.
“I was just leaving. She fell back asleep.” Kankuro huffs out. I can hear him stand and a clamp against clothing, I’m guessing patting Gaara on his way out. Thin plastic ruffles against the bedside table as Gaara sighs and sits down on the edge of the bed,” it’s not a cactus, but flowers. I heard you like camellias. That’s what Temari told me anyway. A million of the finest flowers couldn’t express my gratitude for you Y/N. I once thought it was pointless to talk to others while sleeping, but I find this comforting. I left a note in the flowers for you… so you know they were from me. Temari left you flowers too.”
I listen, frozen as Gaara spills out jumbled words. He sounded nervous even. But I didn’t dare move. After Kankuro, I wasn’t in the mood to face anyone with a tear stricken face. But Gaara continues on,” Kankuro can be abrasive, i hope he didn’t force you back to sleep with his harsh words. I seen him cry for the first time since we were children the night of the incident. He was worried for me… worried I was about to lose someone outside of our family that I loved without being able to confess. I feel like I just did, in a way… but you aren’t awake thankfully. Otherwise this would be really awkward.”
He finally trails off, and I can feel his weight shift. I quickly close my eyes as he leans down towards my face before he backs away bashfully,” that would be rude. I could never take advantage of my desires while you lay unconscious. I would want us both to remember the feeling of something as simple as a forehead kiss.”
He sits straight again, deciding to raise my IV riddled hand to kiss that instead,” thank you, Y/N. Truly.”
I Hope he doesn’t look back to my face as it quickly heats from my neck up at the intimate touch. My eyes decide to flicker against the adrenaline of my racing heart regardless, fluttering open to gaze upon his paler than normal face like a deer caught in light in the dead of night. He drops my hand anxiously and stands quickly, brushing his disheveled jacket back to tidiness and coughing,” Y/N- I-“
“Gaara… I would like nothing more to experience something as simple as a forehead kiss with you.” I giggle out weakly. He shuffles forward awkwardly, bending down tightly and internally fighting with himself before finally placing a ghostly soft kiss against the middle of my forehead. My hand catches his jaw before he can move away, causing him to freeze yet again as I sit up,” I nearly died saving you… I think I might deserve a real kiss for that at the least.”
I meant it as a joke, but he slowly leans in, brushing a gentle hand through my hair as my hand travels smoothly against his jawline, settling below his ear to cradle his head. We take it slow, looking in to his wandering orbs and down to his rose tinted cheeks. Finally landing on his slightly puckered lips that wait nervously. I bite my lip and nod as encouragement for us both. His kiss is soft, barely touching until I lean further in. His other hand finds its way around my waist to steady himself. I’m sure he hasn’t taken a breath and force myself to pull away. Gaara stares blankly at me, eyes wide open and cheeks becoming an even more furious shade of red. I see his chest rise and fall before he swoops back in, coming back for an even deeper kiss.
“Y/N, i brought you some flowers, I’m sorry I was rud- I’m gonna go.” Kankuro coughs out awkwardly, dropping yet another bouquet of flowers in the doorway and sprinting down the hall screaming for Temari. Gaara pulls away and sheepishly stands to place the bouquet Kankuro had dropped at my side,” I should go after him. I’ll be here tonight when you’re discharged to make sure you safely return home… I saved what I could.”
The memory of Shukaku’s tail plummeting across the row of houses that included mine pops back in my head. I distract myself and look over to the bedside table. A glass vase sits with vibrant sunflowers and a little paper placard
You survived. ~ Temari
short and sweet, the way we always conversed. I look down at Kankuro’s recklessly picked Iris’s
I trespassed to get these for you. I’m sorry I’m mean sometimes ~ your second favorite
He was possibly my third favorite after this mess, but he still held a place in my heart with his effort. Lastly, my eyes focus in on the largest bouquet. Full of stark white, vibrant pink and deep red camellias. I search for the placard, but find a folded note deep inside the petals in the center. I unfold it slowly and hold my breath.
To the ones we get can’t yet admit our personal feelings towards, we cherish them in flowers and small gestures such as a night time stroll. Your strong will and heart overshadows the most beautiful flowers in these lands. Any flower you pass here on out, is a symbol of my dedication and undying love I hold for you. ~Gaara
My heart skips a beat, and a tear drops down my cheek. I wipe it away as a stupid grin plasters itself across my face. The most troubled man I’ve met, happens to also be the most poetic.
Hours pass, filled with long unblinking moments of staring at the wall and struggling to put on clothes until finally a soft knock announces Gaara,” if you’re ready, I’d like to walk you home.”
I nod with a toothy grin, attempting to stand. The cast around my foot causes me to fall forward as Gaara catches me effortlessly. He lets out a soft chuckle and scoops me up from behind my legs,” I suppose I’ll be the one doing the walking.”
“I can manage.” I wince out as he adjusts me closer to his body,” I can’t miss our nighttime walk. It’s been lonely without you.”
“I’ll go wherever you take me.” I yawn, quickly tiring and looping an arm around his neck to curl in to him. He places one last kiss against the crown of my head and turns to walk out,” I’ll gladly lead you to whatever your heart desires.”
I smile and let the tiredness take over with the calming motions of his steady walk. This man could lead me to insanity, and I’d still cross over any obstacle to follow him.
#Gaara#kazekage gaara#gaara x reader#gaara fanfic#gaara sabakuno#gaara x y/n#gaara imagine#gaara fluff#gaara x you#gaara of the sand#sabaku no gaara#naruto fan fiction#naruto oneshot#naruto imagines
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Pristine and Kept Pretty
Rating: Explicit
Pairing: Aether/Mountain
Tags: Boot blacking, boot worship, boot fucking, masturbation, dom/sub dynamic, objectification, dom! Aether, sub! Mountain
Words: 1,584
Summary: Aether takes special care to clean Mountain's boots, and Mountain knows the proper way to thank him.
Read on Ao3
Or I guess below the cut
The plush cushion of the chair felt odd to sink into, too unfamiliar to relax in. Mountain's spine stayed rigid, only a minor improvement from his typical posture. He swallowed with an audible click as Aether gave his boot zipper a tug, his nervous sound masked by the teeth coming together. It felt strange, almost sort of wrong, to see him on his knees like this - like he should be lower than the quint ghoul, cheek pressed to the cold floor if that is where Aether decided he wanted him to be. Still, Mountain remained in place, waiting for instruction like always.
Fidgeting with a loose thread on his knee, he watched Aether's dexterous hands work a new lace through his boots eyelets. His eyes flicked towards the clock on the wall but Aether cleared his throat and his attention returned diligently. He was met with a furrowed brow and a near frown, not quite disappointment but enough that Mountain felt uncharacteristically small.
Aether pulled the laces tight once more before tying them off. With a satisfied sound, he ran his palm over the shiny black leather. Admiring and inspecting his work, testing Mountain's patience and withholding what he craved.
"You need to take better care of your things, darling." He tutted and thumbed over a crease at the toe of his boot, "they were so scuffed. Dirty." His lip almost curled up with disgust, a glimpse of teeth. Mountain felt his breath catch. "Do you have any idea how long it took to make them pretty again?"
"I'm sorry sir."
"What do we say?"
"...Thank you for making them pretty, sir." His voice felt meek but his cock still throbbed fiercely in his boxers.
He'd sat quiet for the better part of an hour watching Aether on his knees, sleeves rolled past his elbows, working away at the dulled leather. His mouth went dry when Aether yanked his shoe up onto his thigh, throat following suit when his tongue lolled out of his mouth all pretty and pink as spit dribbled off of it onto the leather. The blood rushed from his brain to his dick at an alarming speed, his ability to think not far behind as Aether took a rag to it. Spit shining taken a little too literally.
Beyond thorough, Aether had taken his time with each scuff and scratch, paying the time absolutely no attention. Mountain had thought to say something, even got as far as opening his mouth, but could only croak sadly.
He knew that they were set to go on soon, without daring another glance at the ticking clock, Mountain could feel it. Rituals had always carried a certain energy to them, unholy worship running through a ghoul's veins. But instead of electricity mingling in his body, his blood felt thick like syrup. Time seemed to move slower when Aether had him like this, skull stuffed with cotton, mind gone soft, cock gone hard.
"You know how to thank me." Aether's voice went a bit shaky with the command. Hand on the outside of his ankle pushing with the slightest hint of guidance, even Mountain was smart enough to recognize impatience.
He did, and it made his face feel hot to shift the weight of his foot from Aether's thigh to the obvious tent in his pants. Mountain wanted to cover his face as he cautiously nudged at his bulge with the toe and Aether sighed, but knew better than to try. He gripped the edge of his seat instead.
"Fuck...Harder, I know you can do better."
Lip worried between his teeth, Mountain dragged against the length of his zipper with an increasing pressure. He swore he could feel Aether's chubby little cock through the layers of fabric and rubber, feel it kick against the weight.
Selfishly he wished it was his hands so he could feel him for certain, cradle his heavy balls in his palm and thumb over the reddening tip when it started to leak. He could only assume his boxers were growing sticky with pre, Mountain knew his own certainly were.
Aether rocked upwards when the flat of his sole came to rest against him again, groaning low enough it could have easily been a growl as his clothed member slid against the unforgiving rubber ridges. It hurt in a way that could only be described as delicious, Mountain could read it on the other ghoul's face. Grit teeth and a creased brow, trying not to whimper over every thrust chasing after that feeling.
"Hh...That's, that's it. Good." He whispered and Mountain whined, almost dejected.
"Please sir-?" Mountain asked with a sad pitch to his voice, if Aether had the breath to laugh he might have. "Say it?"
"Good toy."
It was his turn to groan, cock spurting a generous amount of pre against his thigh in response to the praise. He shifted his foot again, grateful, as he pressed the heel of his boot against what was likely the underside of Aether's cock. Aether cursed as his head fell back, one hand braced on the floor behind him while the other rested on top of Mountain's boot, abusing the newfound angle to rut his hips into the rubber with an unfamiliar desperation.
"Yeah? Like being my good toy? Sitting pretty so I can use you to get off?" He panted, sweat beading at his brow. His scent ran stronger, muskier, Mountain felt the drool pooling in his mouth. "Course you do, look at you. You love being used," Aether's mouth hung open in silent pleasure for a fleeting second with a particularly well angled motion.
Aether loved to talk, loved whispering filth directly into the untouched corners of Mountain's mind until it consumed his every thought. Magic typically coming to polish off his brain the same as he'd done to the leather, but there was no curl of quintessence this time. Just Aether's husky voice pulling him further into that vacant headspace until it became sir's words guiding his toy.
It was always a treat to watch Mountain slip, even if he fell easily. It still sent something hot zipping down Aether's spine to see his copper eyes go glassy.
"Wanna see it..." The earth ghoul rasped, giving his cock another heavy nudge.
Aether might've chastised his lack of manners but he knew it'd be in one ear and out the other. Both hands instead moved for his belt and Mountain withdrew to give him space. He outright moaned shamelessly when Aether's cock was pulled free, already slick and still beading pre as he stroked his fist over it. Root to tip over the short length of it, it looked heavy and fat in his hand. Mountain ached to touch himself.
"Like it baby?"
"Yes sir." He nodded dumbly, watching the ruddy head disappear into his fist with each twist along it.
"Prettiest cock you've ever seen?"
"Yes sir," his tongue darted out to wet his lips as he finally forced his unfocused eyes back on his face. Aether's violet eyes glittered, they almost matched the purple hue of his cheeks.
Without stopping the hand on his dick, Aether used the other to reposition Mountain's foot. Leather almost a little cold on the underside of his cock as it dribbled, dirtying his previous hard work. He hissed and released himself, steadied by both hands around Mountain's calf as he gave a tentative roll of his hips.
Mountain liked this angle better, and judging by the glossy streaks rut against his shoe, Aether did too. He was huffing, digging his fingers into the little bit of meat on his leg. Under each breath he could hear a faint whisper of yes and fuck. His cock was drooling, leaking like a faucet, almost as bad as Rain.
"Shit - fuck, fuck, fuck!"
Aether's pace faltered and his hand flew back to his visibly twitching dick. He managed a few clumsy strokes before his hips jerked forward to meet his fist one more time, thick white ropes splattering across the previously pristine black leather. His eyes roll and remain in his skull as he stutters through the sudden crash of orgasm, slowly twisting up and down his softening cock till the glow of pleasure begins to go blinding.
He drops back to sitting on his heels, upper body sagging as he attempts to catch his breath. Mountain might have stopped breathing at some point with how dizzy he'd gone. He's also panting despite having just sat there, sinking into the back of the couch till his chin met his chest. An awkward angle, but one that left him staring longingly at the suffocating way his pants clung to his crotch.
"Your boots are a mess again." Aether says when the blood finally leaves his ears, tucking himself back into his uncomfortably wet boxers. "After all I put into cleaning them?"
"I'll, um-"
"Fucking dirty toy," Aether scolded and Mountain fought his body not to try to buck up into nothing. Desperate for friction. "You've got five minutes till curtains...Better find someone willing to lick this clean, or you can walk out there wearing my cum."
An almost wounded sound tore out of Mountain as he suddenly sat upright, the blush in his cheeks practically glowing.
"You wouldn't want to waste my cum, would you?"
"N-no sir."
"And you don't want all of those adoring fans to know just what you are, do you?"
"No sir."
"Then you better find someone and beg."
#void writing#writing#spicy tag#nameless ghouls#aether ghoul#mountain ghoul#aether/mountain#the band ghost#ghost the band#the band ghost fanfiction
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Radioapple Smut fic;
Alastor sank his pointed yellow teeth into the fallen angel, relishing the sensation as the golden blood flooded his taste buds. This was something he would have not under any condition would have fathomed doing in the past. Particularly not with the king of hell, the serpent himself, his worst enemy. But for whatever odd reason he adored it. Holding down the smaller man as he nipped and bit at Lucifer's soft skin, the flavor profile of his warm blood tasting slightly of honey.
The fallen angel underneath the radio demon was making small rubber duck-like squeaking noises out of pleasure at every bite and suck at his neck he was on the receiving end of. Lucifer could feel the blood dripping from his neck and it being sucked up by Alastor. It sent shivers down his spine.
“Enough.” Lucifer says, a slightly controlling tone to his voice as he pushes the radio demon up off of him. The display of power and control turned Alastor on more, and Lucifer knew that. Alastor scoffs, licking blood off of his lips.
“What ever could be wrong, your highness?” Alastor asks, clearly disappointed by the look on his face. Yes, he was still smiling, it just wasn't as wide as before.
“Well, Bambi. I want you to fuck me, not eat me.” Lucifer says, getting slightly flustered by his own words. Alastor grits his teeth slightly at the nickname, he did not enjoy it.
“If you wish, Your Majesty.” The radio demon states, rolling his eyes, before pushing Lucifer down onto the bed once again. The two’s lips connect, the taste of Lucifer's own blood flooding his mouth as they french kiss gently yet passionately.
Eventually, they both found themselves unclothed, Lucifer being turned over, his stomach to the sheets. Alastor slowly stuck his hard member into the fallen angel’s ass, it was a good size, about 8 inches, a few over average.
“Nnngh..~” Lucifer moaned slightly as he felt the Radio demon inside him. Alastor quite enjoyed this, seeing the most powerful being in hell so vulnerable. Lucifer felt Alastors pre-cum already, this made him squeak slightly. Alastor pounded harder and harder as the moments flew by, the two both felt immense amounts of pleasure and euphoria as they harshly fucked. “I believe I am going to.” The radio demon says, before pausing for a few seconds. “I’m close, to put it simply..~” Alastor adds, a slight whine to his voice as he speaks. Lucifer just nods, still relishing in the feeling.
A few moments later the radio demon had cummed inside of Lucifer and they were both lying down on the bed. Their own fluids covering them both.
#radioapple#smut#smut writing#smut fic#habin hotel#appleradio#alastor x lucifer#oneshot#gay#lgbtq#duckiedeer
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Can't Trust A Supe
Part 6: Angel face
Masterlist
⚠️warnings: Gore, Threats of violence, Threats of injury. General dark theme.
I had to think or something quick, I had to come up with something, anything. Could I pretend to faint? Like the goats who sacrifice themselves for their herd. Would Homelander believe that? Would he just get annoyed and kill the man himself? How strong was Homelander's will? How strong is my own?
"Please Homelander. I have learned my lesson, I swear I won't try something like that again. Don't make me do this." Emotion didn't appeal to him, it's a long shot but maybe reason would. He looked down at me with a trademarked scowl I was getting so used to.
"Prove to me you have learned to listen. Do it." He said his expression softened ever so slightly. He looked back to the man and smiled as he folded his hands behind his back again and stood up straight. You could tell he was enjoying the power he was wielding around like a club.
"I-I can't, H-homelander I won't." I stutter out feeling the walls starting to close around me.
"I-I-I don't care." He mocked. "You'll do it or I will go back to that shity homeless shelter and bring you back every last one of their heads." He says, his cool demeanor slipping as he bared his teeth while speaking.
"Just do it God damn it!" Maeve yelled, her eyes still closed tight. Homelander had a cocky grin as he glanced down at me out of the corner of his eye. Even Maeve was begging me. This man looked so scared he had to know what was coming.
I had to do it. Looking inside of him I could see his heart racing like a hummingbird's. I did all I could to try and make sure he felt no pain without Homelander realizing. I flooded his brain with as much dopamine it could possibly produce in these short seconds. The nervous system gives me the most trouble. So many threads that are all tangled so I have to focus on the ones around the spine. I paralyzed the nerves to try and prevent any pain, a luxury I didn't afford to Homelander last night.
As his legs gave out I took the opportunity to grab the top of the spine and tear it from his skin. It wasn't as clean as I wanted it to be. Half the bones didn't come out because the spinal cord broke but the poor man was long dead before it snapped. His expression never changed. I have to tell myself he didn't feel anything but I'd never know for sure. The body slumps fully. The spine and all the attached nerves and tendons dropped with him. Once the body part loses connection to a living human I can't control it anymore, something I just learned and I wish I didn't know.
"That's my girl! That was brutal wow!" He said as he clapped. Maeve opened her eyes and stared straight ahead trying to not look at the man who's back was ripped open. The blood pooled under him and moved outwards. It creeped towards my feet. I stepped back to avoid it but Homelander put his hand on the center of my back to stop me. Soon the blood met the rubber soles of my shoes and his boots. I hadn't realized I started to cry until I saw myself in the reflection of this innocent man's blood.
Maeve walks off without a word. Homelander pats my back proudly.
"That wasn't hard now was it? Don't worry about her, she has a whole harem, what's one less?" He said with a chuckle. Without warning the Chinese I had less than an hour ago forced itself back up. Homelander pulled away his hand and rolled his eyes. "You are so dramatic! You did it, how are you going to puke over it? That's your handy work, be proud of it, angel face."
"Don't call me that." I bark as more comes up. He laughs and walks over to the body.
"This really is something else. I think you will make a perfect sidekick for your old man. The bone collector no wait, that's a movie. I'll think of a name for you don't worry."
"Fuck you." I say in between gasps. I wipe my mouth and look up at him. He pushes the lifeless body out of the way with his foot and walks back over to me. His grin gone, he grabs my jaw and squeezes so hard I hear a pop. I thought he was trying to break my jaw until he moved his hand up slightly to force my mouth to open.
"Having a tongue is a privilege young lady. I'll chalk that up to you not feeling well. Nod if you understand." I nod up and down looking at him wide eyed. He nods with me slowly. He lets my chin go and steps back and looked back at the body.
"You need to brush your teeth, you smell like shit." He says with a curled upper lip. He wipes his gloved hand on his thigh. For someone who killed so many people and seemed to enjoy the violence he really couldn't handle bodily functions. We took the elevator back to his penthouse which I was thankful for but I knew it was just because he didn't want my puke breath near his face. He pointed me to the bathroom to clean myself up. He had a tooth brush in there and everything for me already. The decked out kids room and the feminine products in the bathroom made me wonder how long he had been planning to kidnap me?
I brush my teeth and rinse my mouth out. I stared into the mirror for a long while. I had always liked how much I looked like my mom but he's making me start to hate my own face, hate her face. I know every complaint he gives me on my looks is meant for my mother. It gave me the creeps. What if one day I reminded him too much of my mother.
I step out and hear Homelander having a conversation over the phone.
"Just calm down Deep. What do you mean you found a box? No actually I really can't come check it out right now. Why?! Because I'm busy that's why!" I step closer to see if I can hear the other side of the conversation. A floorboard creaks and Homelander turns to face me. "No, don't take it to Stillwell. I'll be there, just hold on." Homelander says as he hangs up the phone.
"It's alright if you have to go. I ca-"
"Oh save the Miss. innocent act. I know you can't wait till I leave." He looks around for a second as he thinks. "I'm calling someone, he'll watch you. I need to handle some superhero business." He says as he types on his phone angrily. He seemed really worked up about something. I wonder what's in that box.
"I wasn't going to run, I know not to try. I know you'd find me." I was trying to stroke his ego, soften him. No telling what maniac he was calling up here.
"Damn right I would but you're desperate, in shock even maybe. People make very dumb choices when they are desperate so I'm protecting you from your own poor decision making. Thank me later." He said as he fixed his hair in one of the mirrors on the wall. He was so hard to get a grip on. One moment he is perfectly lucid, almost rational about it all, the next he is telling me how much I'll love it here. He was right about one thing though, I am desperate.
"I'm 17, I don't need a babysitter. The halls are full of people who either fear you or love you. I'm not going anywhere. Do you think I can fly? I'm not gonna open the window and fly away."
"No but you just might jump out the window." He says under his breath. Honestly it hadn't occurred to me. He wouldn't believe me. Does he realize what he's doing is wrong? He has to, he doesn't seem to be hiding it though at least not to the ones close to him.
Homelander opened the door before there was even a knock. Standing there about to ring the doorbell was Black Noir.
"Hey Noir, thanks for coming by." Noir walked. Out of all the 7 members, why in God's name would he ask this guy to watch me. Was it an intimidation play? Homelander is intimidating enough. "Don't be rude, Simone say hi." Noir just stood there looking down at me. To be fair I couldn't actually tell if he was looking at me but nevertheless I was scared.
"Oh um hi." I say softly. Noir cracks his knuckles then rolls his shoulders before taking a step closer to me like he was ready to charge. Homelander put his arm out in front of him to stop his charge.
"I didn't mean take care of her like that. Watch her for me, like a babysitter. " Homelander clarified. "I'll tell you all about it later, just be nice." He whispered to noir who nodded. Rather than charging me he holds out his hand for a shake. I jumped when he extended his hand. He looked at Homelander like I was the crazy one here. I reluctantly take his hand and shake it.
Homelander left without saying much else he must have been in a real hurry because he didn't even threaten me one last time before taking off.
Noir sat on the sofa. Hands on his knees like he was ready to get up at any moment. I was desperate but I wasn't desperate enough to try and escape with this guy hanging around but maybe I could soften him up as well. If Homelander intended on keeping me here for a long time It would be a good idea to make friends. People who will ask questions if I go missing. I knew Noir wouldn't be asking too many questions about anything but you never know who might be an unlikely ally.
"You don't talk do you?" I ask as I sit down in an armchair. He shook his head no. "Is that because you don't want to or can't." He just looked at me and gave me no answer one way or another. "If you want you can take off your mask. It's kinda freaking me out." I say with as sweet of a smile as I could muster. He looked down almost like I hurt his feelings. "You aren't freaking me out, it's just the mask, you seem um nice." It was a lie, all of him is freaky but he seems loyal to Homelander so I was pretty sure I was safe for now. He still seemed kinda down. "You know I bet you are a real looker under there. You have a great build." I was desperate enough to see if flattery would work. I just had to be careful, I don't want to give this guy the wrong vibes. He didn't seem to have any reaction at all, probably for the best.
We sat there for about 10 minutes and out of nowhere he pulled out a deck of cards. I look at him surprised. "Do you normally keep cards on you?" I ask with a laugh he shook his head yes and tapped the deck and handed them to me. "Oh you wanna play a game? Yeah we can do that…. Go fish would probably be a little hard with the no talking thing. Ever play War?" I ask as I split the deck. He makes a gunning motion with his hands. "No, not that kind of war, here I'll teach you."
We played with the cards for at least half an hour. Homelander returned and he thanked Noir for watching me. He took his cards and left. Homelander was quick to get him out. He looked frazzled and calm all at once.
The whole evening Homelander was just staring at me. Not a word was spoken. What was in that box? Was Homelander mad? Was he deep in thought? Maybe he was scared. It made me wish I could see thoughts written on the inside of someone's brain. I hated being the last to know something.
"You feeling alright?" I ask, finally breaking the unbearable silence. He chuckled a little which wasn't a good sign he knew something. He sat down across from me on the sofa and grabbed the outside of my thigh. I jumped and on instinct tried to pull his hand away from me. He was too strong. He stared into my eyes. His expressionless face took up my full field of vision.
"I'm gonna ask you something and if I think you are lying to me I'll break your Goddamn leg, Understand?" I nod quickly, still holding onto his hand. "Did you kill a supe a few nights ago? An invisible guy." His grip tightened on my leg. No amount of pulling from me was going to break his hold.
My heart was pounding, I knew the heart rate would be what gave me away if I didn't relax. Too relaxed and he'd know I was trying to hide something. I slowed my breathing the best I could. He squeezed harder, making me yelp. "Angel face, just tell me the truth. I won't be angry." I hated that fucking nickname something about it made me viscerally angry. I knew he was lying. I didn't have to look at his heart to see that.
#billy butcher#homelander#the boys#fanfic#hughie campbell#oc stuff#frenchie#mothers milk#the female#yandere homelander#platonic homelander
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It's been 2 weeks so it's time to announce the winners of the November caption contest featuring Avengelyne... captured...?
Each winner will get to choose a prize if they wish (but you don't have to, you can just participate for fun, I just wanted to give a prize because I enjoy the caption contests and entries).
Like last time, I've decided to organize the entries by the way they were submitted, just to make it easier.
Here are the caption entries, I got so many this time and they were all so good it was hard for me to choose winners:
From Mastodon:
Claire: "she looks like she is kind of surprised there was a lady on the other end of that chain"
Dollcomics: “Sweep the floors, clean the bathroom, polish the chains AND a $500 cleaning fee? Ugh, AirBNBs are the worst”
Socketwench: "Look, I really think you need an MRI, a physical therapist, or a chiropractor." "Just pull, okay? My back hasn't cracked in a f-ing week."
From Disqus and Email:
Imry: "It's company policy that all captured heroes need to be sexily chained up. It's ineffective, time-consuming, expensive, and the the minions hate it more than the heroes... but nobody can complain because they aren't part of a union and don't have collective bargaining powers. Do you want your work uniform to give you a permanent wedgie? No? Then join a union!"
Karmazyna: "How many times do I have to tell you: whatever you find in the Home Depot's clearance section is NOT clothing material!"
Leak: "Give me a moment, and we'll have you elongated to Liefeld Standard(TM) in no time..."
Mel: "Would you stop tugging? The lock isn't on yet! You're so impatient; I'm never doing a kinky photoshoot with you again."
P J Evans: "A private party? You didn't say it was a private party!"
From Tumblr:
@angrybidoof: "When you book a chiropractor off Craigslist"
@anna-neko: "and I will keep pulling, until your dumb face finally makes an expression"
@atomicmosaic: "she seems miffed: "that all you got? I'm like a centimeter off the floor""
@captainacerbic: "are you positive that this method will make me taller and thinner? If so, don't stop even if I cry"
"Got it gurl"
@captainlordauditor: "With no access to a BDSM dungeon, the castle's armory proved an acceptable substitute for an impromptu demonstration in the purpose of the time travelers' costumes. "
@cenobitic-anchorite: "When I told you we were out of toilet paper, this was NOT the solution I had in mind!"
@cirquedereve: "Guess I'm really locked in to this relationship."
@differenttriumphdragon: "What do you MEAN your shackles already broke!? How are we supposed to fix it when you used all the electrical tape on your costume!?"
@foreversoaring: "According to her, the hottest way to decorate a bdsm dungeon was to give it a ‘museum weapons collection’ theme."
@haveievermentioned: "Oh my gosh, why didn't you tell me this was your first time in a BDSM dungeon?"
@inukagome15: "You've been a bad girl. Time for some avenging."
@megpie71: "Look, I hate it as much as you do, but it's the only way we have to straighten out a rubber spine."
@of-another-broken-heart: "Are you SURE this isn't a porn shoot?" "We need the rent money, so does it really matter?"
@siklo: "-Harder! Do you want a tip or not!?"
"-I don't know anymore. I think I might quit..."
@sylvanas-girlkisser: "Me and my girlfriend had thought of very different things when planning our "dungeon date" but we made it work. #the katana was maybe a bit much though"
@thevikingfish-nimhrodell: "This is what you get for using up all the duct tape in the house for your costume!! I don't care that it's waterproof!"
@vabolo: "You know, I'm starting to think this isn't what that Sia song meant"
@whitetyger123: "Stop! Why are you doing this to me?"
"I don't know really. Having a wedgie as bad as mine makes people do all sorts of crazy things."
@winterrssoldier: "Unconventional chiropractor helps women with scoliosis"
@woodsworth: "Gurl let me get a least that posture straight for you"
@youlookterrible: "this is
this is showgirls innit
that's elizabeth berkeley and that's the gersh"
@zombiemollusk: "yeah, sorry, i forgot the safeword and this costume is waaaay too itchy." "BUT DID YOU HAVE TO BREAK THE SHACKLES??"
Because I got so many good submissions, I'm going to pick 2 honorable mentions again and then the 3 winners!
So Honorable Mentions go to: Imry and @thevikingfish-nimhrodell!
If you're an honorable mention and want a prize and somebody in the top 3 passes it, up then I'll contact you. :)
And here are the winners:
3rd place goes to Dollcomics
2nd place goes to @angrybidoof
And finally the winner is... @cirquedereve!
If you won and would like a prize, please message me with which prize you would like. If you came in 2nd, message me with 2 choices in order of preference, and if you came in 3rd, message me with 3 choices, etc... I'll give you your top choice that hadn't been taken by the other winners.
The codes I have available are for: Overgrowth, Syberia, Riot: Civil Unrest, Castle Crashers, Hotel Giant 2, Not The Robots, Steel Storm: Burning Retribution, Rage in Peace, Uncertain: The Last Quiet Day, Uncertain: Light At The End, Shattered - Tale of the Forgotten King, Morbid: The Seven Acolytes, The Swindle, Zengeon, Wayward Souls, and Nigate Tale.
Please stay tuned for another caption contest coming in December, it's going to be a special holiday themed one!
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Romantic Snippet tag
Tagged a LONG time ago by both @eli-writes-sometimes and @starlit-hopes-and-dreams and I took forever to fill it out because I have that little romance in my currently written WIPs! But here's a bit I wrote recently, as I explore what this brand new steampunk WIP is really about...
“I won’t leave him,” Empathy muttered, more for herself than anyone else. She hoisted Christopher’s limp form up a little higher on her back, gathering all of his spilled limbs, and started the trek out.
All around them, mechanisms failed. Pieces broke, oil dripped. The air was filled with the scent of melting rubber. Empathy focused on putting one foot in front of the other, with a little leftover sense to keep an eye out for any imminent explosions.
“You can’t save everything,” Fuchsia pleaded over the line.
Empathy thought of all the things she’d seen, all the Christophers shown to her. “I love him,” she said simply.
“You can’t possibly,” Fuchsia said. “You can’t. Even if you read every inch of his mind that one time and have that weird codependency thing that I warned you against—”
“I love you too,” Christopher mumbled against her spine, and caused her to nearly plummet them both into a crater.
Fuchsia cursed, and Empathy wished more than anything she could’ve heard Christopher speak those words anywhere else. Someplace lovely and calm and quiet, without listening ears and boiling silver raining down. She’d just have to hear them again, sometime. Truly, they were plenty nice now.
“Come on, Christopher,” she panted, trying to maintain a steady pace. It wasn’t much longer, it couldn’t be. Could it?
Seemingly resigned, Fuchsia was quiet except to offer occasional navigational help. The air grew hotter and harder to breathe. Christopher grew heavier and heavier. Empathy had no intention of giving up.
I'll offer the tag in turn to @blind-the-winds @reneesbooks @eccaiia @talesofsorrowandofruin and anyone else who'd like to join!
#can i explain much about this crazy setting here? no. no i can not#only i know it is really cool and probably doesn't obey the laws of physics#one day i will flesh it out. until then? random descriptions#tag games#romantic snippets tag#marinating wips
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Dyrage 1
Summary: Long has Dyrage split off his attachments to the face you wore. As long as he is here, it must be kept that way. His job, at the current moment, is just to question you, to see if you have memories other than the one you have consumed.
(Ooof, been a while huh? Anyways, no clue if I want to make this character canon or not, but he's been on the brain so I wrote about him anyway. And also because these are literally my little brain creations, I can make anything or nothing canon as I wish. So... yeah!)
And in all your gross and pulsating meaty mass, you closed the distance, getting right into his face with the one that haunts his dreams. This part was human, but that's about as far as it goes. Only skin deep.
And yet, there was something in Dyrage that just… hopes that there was something else in there, that you didn't just copy the genetic and memorial make up of a person. That, somehow or another, you were the soul who's face you were. And that, if it's true, then surely there should be more. You were cut off from a bigger mass, from a red deeply red moss that grew on that divine tree.
A tree that made itself a forest out of Dyrage's own home.
"Does Serenity Hill seem familiar to you in any way."
All of this could've been done behind glass or even thousands of feet above, Dyrage knows that, but he, to an extent, also knows this creature. He knows you, and he knows that you have a particular diet. Or, rather, you know what it is he white coats want.
Stubborn. So stubborn that you would rather eat foods that disgust you. You're starving yourself and you don't care.
Dyrage want to pretend he doesn't know why he tries, but he hates lying to himself. Delusions were a color he'd much rather leave far behind him.
You tilted your head then leaned back, the membranes above his head twitching and turning with your every thought.
"Serenity Hill…" you reached both hands high above you, as though you were reaching up for the sun you're never allowed to see, "The village of white peaches and stagnation. The flavor was always stale upon the tongue, no matter how much effort was poured into the yield. And the texture… it was like biting into a ball of moss."
…The face that you wear and the voice that you speak with. He can't speak of purity, he can't say anything about tarnishing, but he wishes you were nothing more than a monstrosity. Back to that flesh being that was simply that, inhuman flesh in a tube. At least then you wouldn't be able to extract things from his most precious memories.
You speak of his home, of those white peaches as though you were actually there.
But that is all he can do. His thoughts are his alone. He can throw any number of insults within and not worry of what will happen outside.
"And where does this memory originate from?" Dyrage had to grip his pen just so nothing shows on his face. The things he has seen and done, he can't falter. He won't falter.
Your torso twisted around with rubber elasticity. You bowed and were back in front of his face once more.
"You should know well where the memory comes from," Bored. Dyrage allowed himself to entertain your request and already you were getting bored of him. Of course. Of course! "I didn't know you to be one to ask redundant questions. Is there something you're hoping for?"
"It's all standard procedure."
"Liar."
"Simply answer the question and I won't lie to you anymore."
"Hmm," you eased back and settled into the wall of flesh that consumes half the room, as though reclining on a sofa, "Well, it's not as though I truly hate lies."
Dyrage knows that. That man, your pet as he's been called, is still alive to this day. Resting from the strain of fusing a strand of yourself into his spine, but resting and alive nonetheless. He remembers the recordings, about how he was fine and that he’ll be back shortly.
That man, Ash, was also full of lies. No matter the face, no matter the authority, he will lie to them if it means he will not be thought about. Like he wants to disappear and not matter to anyone.
"Don't lie anymore for today," you said with a smile that simply didn't belong, "Tomorrow you can lie as much as you like. I want to see them all one day. There's only so many one can wrap themselves around in before they're nothing more than a suffocating bug."
"The question. I’m still waiting for an answer."
"From this one," you pointed to your face, "Serenity Hill comes from the memories of this one. Nothing more, nothing less."
"…are you sure? Nothing beyond… this?"
Was there truly nothing? Nothing within that collective memory? Nothing from when you were nothing more than a part of a red mass nesting in the bark groves? Was your head truly that empty of anything?
"Nothing beyond, you weird little seeker you. I don't hold any other origin point to draw from. I only have one well. A well that I can peek into to gather all your secrets. Though… well, that doesn't matter now does it? My words hold no power to anyone besides you."
Because you are a,
"Monster. You are right to know your position here. Your awareness makes you all the more precious. And as precious of a being you are, you will be kept safe in mind, body and soul."
A soul that belongs to no one else but you. A soul that Dyrage will not recognize. A soul with no hope in it.
"And for that safety, I'm glad," you snuggled in deeper, smiling wider, "surely this status will apply to my extensions, to my other precious limbs?"
To that man. To one who named himself Ash.
"Of course, we can't very well afford to lose such precious things."
"Who's to say what would happen if they were cut from me. I can't very well control the muscle memory within if that were to happen. After all, my priorities have evolved past instincts, but that's not to say they don't exist anymore."
There is a base and it must not be forgotten. Dyrage will never forget the bloody pedestal you built yourself upon. Your interests are odd, but your instincts remain.
"I will keep that in mind."
But such threats have never held power over him anyway. If you don’t have even a single secret regarding your true origins, about that white tree that has sprouted and laid its roots over the roofs and soil of his homeland, then you held little power.
Your words mean nothing. They have to mean nothing. They must continue to mean nothing.
#patchwork divinity labs#noir.pdl#noir-drabbles#noir-drabbles exclusive#drabble#dyrage#dyrage reed#original character#oc#reader insert
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"You have been jumping through quite an extensive set of hoops to avoid me, łīⱦⱦłē đᵾȼҟ, and I wish to know why." Cornering Lucifer in his own room in a wisp of shadow, Alastor's smile was as big and sharp as ever, but pulled just a bit too tight as he loomed over the smaller demon. Something wasn't right, things had been fine, even after they-
Things had been fine, until all of a sudden Lucifer seemingly vanished from the halls of the hotel, Alastor unable to shake the feeling that somehow he had been the cause. How was he meant to get Lucifer's attention play with the little king's temper if there was no king to poke? //🦆🥚🦌
- ✧ ˖ ˙ 「 @ʜᴇʟʟꜱ-ꜰᴠʀʏ 」 ˙ ˖ ✧
「 ☆ 」 This shouldn’t be possible… Granted, Lucifer doesn’t know EVERYTHING there is to know about these things. The workings of his own anatomy is an enigma to say the least, both him and Lilith flabbergasted at Charlie’s conception. But it still feels like this shouldn’t be occurring. Like he’s somehow committed a heinous sin against Alastor despite the deer being very involved in the act as well. If anything, Lucifer would argue it’s mainly Alastor’s fault for confronting him in the first place! Honestly, he may go so far as to say it’s solely Alastor’s— Okay, fine. That’s not true.
It’s still mostly Alastor’s fault though.
Pacing with his head down and mind swimming, the sharp click of hooves echo in the spacious room. Forging his usual attire in favor of pajamas— rubber-duck-patterned pants and a loose-fitting shirt with an image of one asleep —messy hair and frantic mutterings don’t help with his frazzled demeanor. This is insane… It’s utterly nonsensical! How could it even— Why would it—
Alastor hates him. No he doesn’t. Alastor hates him. If he did, then why is spawn preparing to enter the world? … Alastor is going to hate him, once he learns of this. Alright, that makes sense. Hands subconsciously resting over his stomach, Lucifer barely feels any different. Yet he KNOWS what is brewing. At first, he’d been confused but not suspicious. Husk offering him food— insisting he take it —had been strange, but nothing to obsess over. That nagging urge to find Alastor, the near-anxiety of not being in close-proximity to the deer… it was annoying, but Lucifer could still brush it off as an unfortunate effect of the— … shift in their relationship.
Lucifer always has been a bit on the clingy side ( ironically, it’s one of the strongest reasons he can have an unfortunate habit of distancing himself ) … and Alastor has been confusing as of late. It’s no wonder that after being— cared for by him, he wouldn't know how to act around the deer. That was the assumption until he found himself hurling into the toilet, a sudden and strong bout of morning sickness making him fall to his knees... and he NEVER gets sick. The only other time he ailed like this was when— Hence, the madman pacing as he tries to fight back the tightness in his chest.
Two days. He has TWO days... Technically one before he starts ❛ showing ❜ , and then the egg will be here. There will be no hiding it then. Especially not since nesting instincts will glue him to it, tasked with keeping it safe for WEEKS ( twenty-eight days, to be exact ) until it's ready to hatch. Practically bedridden, needing to warm and diligently turn the precious creature, lest things go... badly. And he REFUSES to let any harm befall his newest child... His and Alastor's chi—
❝ Oh fuck. ❞ He mutters, skidding to a halt as the subject of his panicked pondering materializes in front of him. As if summoned by being the SOURCE of Lucifer's problems, the deer now towers over him, sending a shiver up the ❛ little duck's ❜ spine thanks to that stupidly-enjoyable nickname. The same one that set this whole dance into motion. ❝ You— You want to know why? Oh. Okay. That's... That's um, that's— doable. Yep. I can definitely do that. ❞
Mouth rambling without his agreement, Lucifer internally reprimands himself for spending so much time fretting over how Alastor may react to the news, yet not figuring out how he was going to TELL him. Short of shoving an egg in his face and saying ❛ Guess what? ❜ . Barking out a nervous laugh, crimson hues flit around the room as he briefly considers teleporting out of there. But whatever few moments that would allow him still wouldn't be nearly enough to compose a plan... It still takes him a second to shake off the temptation.
❝ I, uh... Well. You see— I... have a— ... We have— ❞ Coughing into a closed fist, Lucifer then looks up at Alastor, takes a deep breath and ever-so-delicately... BLURTS out, ❝ I'm pregnant. ❞
❝ And it's yours. Just in case that wasn't clear. ❞ 「 ☆ 」
#(( *UwUs and sets down a pregnant king* ))#burning-fcols#⭒ ˙ ˖ ✧ — ˗ˏˋ ❝ ᴍʏ ᴅʀᴇᴀᴍꜱ ᴡᴇʀᴇ ᴛᴏᴏ ʜᴀʀᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴇꜰᴇɴᴅ ❞ ¦ 「 Lucifer IC 」#⭒ ˙ ˖ ✧ — ˗ˏˋ ❝ ᴄʜᴀᴍᴘᴀɢɴᴇ ꜰᴏᴜɴᴛᴀɪɴꜱ; ᴄᴀᴠɪᴀʀ ᴍᴏᴜɴᴛᴀɪɴꜱ— ᴛʜᴀᴛ’ꜱ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ᴀ ꜱᴛᴀʀᴛ! ❞ ◌ ᴍᴀɪɴ ¦ 「 Lucifer 」#hells-fvry#⭒ ˙ ˖ ✧ — ˗ˏˋ ❝ ᴀ ᴋɪʟʟᴇʀ ꜱᴍɪʟᴇ ❞ ¦ 「 Alastor 」#♡ ˙ ˖ ✧ — ˗ˏˋ ❝ ꜱᴏᴍᴇ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ɢɪʀʟ ᴏʀ ɢᴜʏ; ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴛʜɪꜱ ꜱᴡɪʀʟɪɴɢ ꜱᴋʏ ❞ ¦ 「 Lucifer and Alastor 」#⭒ ˙ ˖ ✧ — ˗ˏˋ ❝ ꜱᴏ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ɪꜰ ɪ ᴍɪꜱʙᴇʜᴀᴠᴇ? ɪᴛ’ꜱ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏʙᴏᴅʏ ᴄʀᴀᴠᴇꜱ ❞ ¦ 「 Answer 」#⭒ ˙ ˖ ✧ — ˗ˏˋ ❝ ᴡʜᴇɴ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴀɴᴛ ꜱᴏᴍᴇʙᴏᴅʏ ɢᴏɴᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴡᴀɴᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴡᴀɪᴛ ᴛᴏᴏ ʟᴏɴɢ— ❞ ¦ 「 Queue 」
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ATC rewrite part 1 outline
The vote was 6-2 in favor of sharing, not counting my vote, so it's under a readmore for those who want to wait until I've finished the first chapter.
My outlines vary from story to story and they're usually quite odd, and take more of a condensed story format than a traditional outline with the bullet points and such. This truly is an outline. It reads like a story. I've embellished on parts that I currently have, glossed over the parts that I don't but know they need to be there.
For those who are new, or followed me from Flipping Legacies and never realized I wrote for other fandoms: Percy Jackson was my first fandom. I started All Together, Cousins in 2013, wrote about 80K words for it in two years, got burned out big time for Percy Jackson stuff. Technically speaking I updated it in 2018, but I'd completely lost the plot of it and relied on subplots and characters to keep it moving and it just. Wasn't fun. And around the time I started Flipping Legacies (in 2020) I'd also taken a look at ATC and kind of. Winced. You can tell a 15 year old wrote it. Happy ten year anniversary, old friend, the fic that haunts me in the night--I'm finally back.
I love the premise of it, but it's kind of like a 1940s house. The walls are cracking, the wiring needs to be updated, the plumbing needs to not be lead. It needs some work. A lot of work. And here's the start of it.
🗲
Thalia’s ten and Jason’s two when she snatches him out of Hera’s grasp, threatens a goddess with grievous bodily harm and bloody revenge schemes and runs like the proverbial bat out of hell. She tires quickly. It’s winter. They’re two Big Three demigods. Cops are not kind to homeless people, shelters are not kind to kids, and the system is even crueler.
Luke Castellan is a blessing, and she thanks Hermes every damn day for him. He’s great at getting out of tight spots, talented with a sword, gentle with her brother, and willing to fight her over what’s best.
He’s been on his own for three years now. He knows what he’s doing a lot better than Thalia does, in terms of actual survival. They bunk down in one of his old hiding spots and gear up and she’s so exhausted that she falls asleep almost immediately, Jason sprawled across her chest.
Never again. She’ll never again let Hera get that close. The sight of her brother in that woman’s arms will haunt her for the rest of her life.
She urges Luke to move faster, the next day, to get them farther away from the Wolf House, and they have a screaming match about I want to be as far away from this place as possible and Let’s not fucking pass out about it, that does nobody any good! and also What if she tries to take him again and Well they’re gods, it’s not like physical distance means anything to them.
Jason isn’t happy about the loud noise of a fourteen year old boy and a daughter of thunder going at it. That’s finally what gets them to shut up. Every demigod she’s ever met has backed down immediately after watching her zap her surroundings when she gets frustrated.
Luke has rubber soles, a steel spine, and a golden heart. How lucky is she, that he’s the full range of conductivity?
The positive and the ground, and together they can move mountains—or make sure that one little boy is safe and happy as is possible for a son of Jupiter.
🗲
Thalia’s twelve and Jason’s just turned four when Luke goes into a cursed mansion and never comes out again.
She straps Jason to her chest and circles the burned out husk of the mansion for any sign, any clue, any remnant of her friend and partner in raising both Jason and hell. She searches the house, then starts working her way out steadily until its more than a mile from the mansion in all directions and she has to admit defeat.
Luke is gone. Luke is dead. He wanted to see his future and Thalia wishes futilely that she had argued more with him about it.
She clings to Jason and weeps bitter tears. Then she pulls herself together and marches on. Anywhere but here. Tennessee, she’s heard, is hot and muggy this time of year, but Thalia feels like she’ll never be warm again.
Meanwhile, Luke has the shield of aegis, a lot more issues with the gods, a golf club, and a blonde little girl terrified of spiders.
🗲
Thalia’s just turned thirteen and Jason’s still four when she snaps her gum obnoxiously and says to the cashier who asked her why she’s not in school, “I’m seventeen, I have a half day before I go to work, and he’s four, dipshit. Now pack it up, I haven’t got all day.”
Her heart thuds in her ears, but Disinterested Teenager is the name of the game, and she’s the godsdamn master of it. Thick eyeliner, chunky mascara, and fake piercings do the rest to convince them. They’ve played this game a thousand times.
Three Big Three kids in a corner store is too much temptation for the monsters, though, and that’s how she meets Sally Fucking Jackson, who’s clear-sighted in every sense of the word.
🗲
Sally is a badass—not a word that Thalia applies to just anyone. Thalia also can’t stand to be around her for too long, because the woman has sacrificed everything to try and raise her son safely.
Seeing herself reflected—mother and son, sister and brother, who would kill or die or be abused to keep him safe and happy and well—is an ache like the cold. And she wishes Beryl had tried.
Is it a crime, to wish that she’d had herself or a Sally to protect her? Thalia thinks not, but it hurts much worse than stealing. She giggles at Jason and Percy arguing over cookies, swiftly removes Jason from Percy when it becomes clear that two small, angry Big Three children wreak havoc on indoor plumbing and HVAC systems, and high tails it out of there with Jason in tow when Sally offers them a place to stay.
Luke survived two years with her and Jason. Sally has her own son to think about living for.
Her eyes burn. She takes a deep breath and marches on.
🗲
Thalia’s fifteen and Jason’s seven and Thalia needs all her fingers to count how many issues she’s got going on currently.
It’s the middle of summer and it’s hotter than Hades’s asscrack, so she thought, “oh hey, it’s not like we’re not already nomadic, let’s go north for the summer and see Yellowstone and such.”
Yellowstone was great. Grizzly bears hate everything pretty equally, but avoid Thalia and Jason like the plague. That means that grizzly bears will happily maul a monster and leave them be. Thalia would like to stay here forever, please and thank you.
But then there was the fucking Fury that chased them to (not quite) hell and back, and Thalia packed them up and ran so far that they wound up in the mountains before they stopped for breath, and then hung out with the Hyperborean giants for a while. Hot Furies and freezing Hyperborean giants don’t mix well, apparently. And then Thalia figured, well, if she was already on the mountains, might as well see what the West Coast has to offer them.
The Fury caught up to them right as they were crossing the Nevada/California border, and Thalia just wants to say that it’s completely ridiculous how hot Nevada is. No place needs to be that hot during the day and that cold at night. A week later and they’ve run so far west that Thalia can taste the salt from the ocean in the air.
They’re out of places for them to run.
Thalia has silver plated hunting knives, handles wrapped with shredded old tires and fabric cushioning the edges. She’s blasted the Fury back with lightning so many times her hair is permanently standing on end and her fingers tingle.
There’s a girl in a purple shirt on the edges of the fight. Her mouth is dropped open like she can’t believe what she’s seeing.
Thalia has a few other things to worry about.
Then the girl comes back with more people in purple shirts and—and they’re armed. Armed with things that can actually hurt a monster.
The Fury shrieks and dives at them and the girl shouts, “Turtle formation!” and shields close around them on all sides.
What Thalia wouldn’t give for a shield. Or a proper weapon.
The Fury rakes its claws across the shields, clambers all over them like a really big, really weird looking lizard, and then almost gets skewered by a sword that pokes itself between a minuscule crack between the shields.
Thalia braces herself between Jason and the Fury, waiting for it to realize that there’s easier prey. Jason, weaponless, hugs her from behind and buries his face in her back.
She breathes deeply. She shivers in spite of the hot air—
A cold wind from the east. The Fury rises, sees them in the open, launches—
There’s a tendril that feels like lightning, a hot line of power. Her gut clenches. Jason shudders so hard he almost yanks her off her feet. The sky goes from blue to black and raging in an instant, and the thunderbolt that comes from the sky is as thick around as Thalia is, blinding and deafening everyone in the vicinity. The Fury vanishes in the lightning’s blaze, naught but golden dust and ash on the ground.
Thalia almost passes out. Her ears are ringing and she can barely see.
The girl in the purple shirt is very tall, Thalia thinks, before she realizes her knees have buckled under her and that the girl is probably a normal height. She’s saying something that Thalia can’t hear, but she can hear Jason yelling something indistinctly. She gropes around behind her, grabbing him.
“He’s my brother,” she says, loudly enough that she feels her own chest rumble. She might be too loud, but she’s guessing otherwise with how useless her own ears are. “He’s annoying but he’s my brother, don’t kill him.”
Jason socks her in the shoulder, so at least someone can hear something.
The girl says something, looking at Thalia. She thinks that the word take was somewhere in there, but reading lips has never been her forte. “You’re not taking him,” she says loudly. “I threatened to destroy Olympus the last time someone tried taking him from me, and I’m still not joking about that.”
“You did what,” was clearly audible, so that must have been screamed in her ear.
“Oh yes,” Thalia says with probably more satisfaction than is wise, considering Jason shaking her and the girl in the purple shirt looking at her with wide eyes. Her vision swims, but it’s been five years and the vicious satisfaction has not yet dimmed. “Dearly beloathed stepmother tried stealing you from mom. I fried her ass, grabbed you, told her if she tried that again I’d do my damnedest to bring Olympus to its knees, and ran. Haven’t seen her in five years.”
The girl, wide-eyed, brings both index fingers together parallel, and clearly says, “Both.”
Oh. Taking them both. That was fine. Nothing short of Tartarus could hold them captive together.
“That’s fine,” Thalia agrees, and immediately passes the fuck out.
🗲
Thalia wakes up with Jason on her right, looking like he’d been slapped with a live flounder while she was out, a blond man with a circular shield in front of them, and a pounding headache.
“Thals,” Jason whispers. “Can you hear me yet?”
She nods, moving her hand enough that he can feel it.
“Is there a monster that imitates dead people?”
What.
The blond in front of them—shielding them, in the most literal sense of the word—glances back just long enough to check on them and it’s long enough to see his profile and what the fuck.
“Luke?” she breathes, propping herself up on an elbow.
“What in the gods be damned Hades are you doing in California?” Luke hisses. “This place is like monster central, don’t you know better?”
“We didn’t exactly have much of a choice in the matter,” Thalia says dryly. “What are you doing alive?”
He glances back at them again, a crooked grin on his face. “You know me,” he says. “Always escaping by the skin of my teeth. Can we have this conversation later, without weird, culty demigods trying to grab you guys?”
Thalia looks up at the swirling clouds above them. She hates to admit it, but— “I don’t think I can walk.”
“Oh for—“ Luke exclaims. “Jason, buddy, hold this.” He unlatches the shield from his arm and passes it off to her brother. “You can terrify us with it later, until then, just keep pointing it at the purple people.” Then he reaches down and scoops her up with a huff of air. “You need to eat more,” Luke tells her as an aside. “Jason, north and east. I’ll follow.”
“Sorry I just spent the last two weeks fighting off a fucking Fury,” Thalia says sarcastically. “I shall endeavor to take a break and eat a hamburger every six to eight hours as my body demands—except wait, no, I can’t, because I have a literal demon from hell that wants to kill me because I had the audacity to be born.”
“You couldn’t have fried it before today?” Luke asks.
“You think I didn’t fry it like fifty times?” Thalia says. “You know, I know we’ve been apart for a couple of years because I thought you were dead, but I didn’t realize my temper was forgettable.”
Jason’s giggling in front of them.
“It’s really not,” Luke says, grinning. He looks back, even though Thalia can clearly see the purple people, as he called them, not following them. He sobers. “I looked for you.”
“I looked for your body,” Thalia says.
“I’m sorry.”
“Be sorrier.”
“Hey, who’s carrying who?”
“I fried a Fury. When you fry a Fury and don’t pass out, then you can talk.”
“Uh-huh,” he says. He sounds unimpressed, but she looks, and there’s both amusement and awe in his eyes. “I’ll take that under consideration. But really. I’m sorry. I knew that when I couldn’t find you, you’d think I was dead and I didn’t do more to let you know otherwise.”
Thalia wrestles with her temper and her hurt. “So why didn’t you?”
Luke shakes his head. “The explosion? Was my fault. It was the only way I could see myself getting out alive.”
Thalia remembers the old house suddenly exploding, going up like someone lit an entire matchbox on fire with Greek fire. There’s a certain shade of lime green that she hates to this day, and it’s entirely because of that.
“I got literally blown out of the house, managed to land in a dumpster and not on the metal roof next to it,” Luke continues. “Badly injured, vaguely flash fried, I’d broken my leg on the way out. I laid in the dumpster with some ambrosia trying get myself to heal for at least a day.”
Yikes. Big Yikes.
“By the time I managed to hobble out of the dumpster, our camp was gone. I went to the city to get some mortal bandages, trying not to burn myself out on ambrosia, and I went down an alleyway. There was a weird noise, and I wanted to investigate before I tried bunking down there for the night, and the next thing I know, there’s this little girl trying to take my kneecaps out with a hammer.”
Luke shakes his head, grinning to himself. “Her name’s Annabeth, she’s a daughter of Athena. She’s eight.”
What were the odds? Probably basically zero.
“What?” Thalia says.
“Yeah,” Luke agrees. “Nuts, right? Pretty sure either Hermes or Athena—or both—were keeping her safe. I convinced her I wasn’t a monster and got her to travel with me. She’s strong, so it was tough while I healed.”
“And then, like six months later, Clarisse found us,” Luke says. “Daughter of Ares, also really strong. The three of us racked up almost as many as the three of us did.”
Thalia winces.
Luke goes quiet. “There’s a camp, in New York,” he says slowly, “specifically built to handle and protect demigods.”
Thalia lifts her head.
“They send out satyrs to try and find demigods before—well, before we get overrun by monsters. And the three of us, roaming around the New England area with a horde of monsters on our tails? It was enough to attract some attention, especially when we were in New York City. Clarisse...she didn’t make it. But Annabeth did.”
Thalia couldn’t breathe.
“She’s safe, back at camp.”
“What are you not saying?” Thalia demanded. “That’d be the first thing out of your mouth. Why would we not be safe?”
“There’s a pact that your dad made, way back after World War II,” Luke says. “No more kids from the Big Three. The crack that you made, about having the audacity of being born? He broke his oath. But he’s immortal, so you pay the price.”
Luke twitches a bit, so Thalia holds her breath until she doesn’t have enough air to be mad.
“The campers there haven’t seen a child of the Big Three ever. Chiron, the centaur who runs the place, hasn’t seen a child of the Big Three since World War II. You guys die too fast. And, even worse, there’s a prophecy about one turning sixteen and potentially destroying the world.”
“Luke,” Thalia says, very calmly. “I need you to put me down.”
Luke sets her on the ground with gratifying speed.
Thalia draws her hunting blades and stabbed them into the ground and made ladders of electricity between them to try and not send off stray pieces of lightning to everyone else around her.
Thalia rests her head against the humming pommels. “Two years ago, Jason and I were in a corner store in New York when monsters attacked.”
Luke stills.
“I’d kicked butt not an hour prior, but it turns out that three Big Three kids is too tantalizing a prospect.”
Luke gasps. “How—“
“Poseidon had a son with a badass woman,” Thalia laughs hollowly. “His taste in women is impeccable, I’ll give him that. Percy’s eight. Him and Jason almost blew out the plumbing in the building arguing over a cookie, so I knew we couldn’t stay.”
“You—I’ve never heard you describe someone as badass, much less a mortal,” Luke says.
Thalia—sighs. “Yeah. She’s sacrificed damn near everything to keep him safe. I can respect that.”
She hauls in a deep breath and forces herself standing. She sways, her vision swims a little, but worlds better than earlier. She pulls her knives out of the ground, cleans off the dirt, and sheathes them. Luke stands behind her, to the left, arms hovering.
Gods, she’s missed him.
“I’ve missed you,” she says. Like a phantom limb.
“I’m so glad you’re still okay,” Luke says.
🗲
Luke goes back to Camp Half-Blood, quest unfulfilled, and brings Annabeth out of the borders. Chiron and Grover come with them, and it’s a very nervous daughter and son of the sky god that they meet.
“Annabeth, Clarisse, Grover, the first bunch I ran herd on,” Luke says fondly, ruffling Jason’s hair. He pats the tree next to him. “Thalia, Jason, this is Clarisse, Annabeth, Grover, and Chiron.”
Annabeth scowls at Jason first, then Thalia. “I’m coming with you,” she announces.
Grover let out a quiet sound of horror. Which, fair. Cute kid, but Thalia had enough work with Jason, and she refuses to endanger a third strong demigod again.
“Um, no,” Luke says firmly, but gently. “You’re not coming with us.”
“You’re not coming with Jason and I, either,” Thalia says, cutting that off at the trunk.
Luke whirls around. “I just—“
“We had to watch you die once already,” Thalia says icily. Annabeth goes white. “Forgive me for not wanting to repeat the experience, with no guarantee that you’d appear out of nowhere three years later.” She tucks her brother closer to her. She softens, just a bit. “We’ll visit,” she promises.
“You would not stay?” Chiron asks.
Thalia glances at the demigods on the other side of the barrier. “Stay in one place that’s constantly watched by the gods. We’d be dead on the inside of a month. Thanks for the offer, but no thanks.”
She sees the brief look of confusion on Chiron’s face and immediately glares at Luke. “You didn’t tell them?”
“It’s none of their business if you’re not going to stay anyway,” Luke says practically. “Annie knows. Clarisse didn’t. I’m pretty sure all they can smell is that you’re strong demigods, not your parentage.”
Thalia eyes them dubiously. “Thalia, daughter of Zeus,” she introduces herself shortly. “And my full-blooded brother, Jason. I’m fifteen and I threatened Hera with the end of Olympus five years ago if she tried taking him from me. I suddenly see why she took my threat seriously.”
Grover chokes on a laugh. Annabeth kicks him in the shin and scrutinizes Thalia. “The gods are better than the other options,” she says seriously. “But kicking them probably wouldn’t hurt. Much.”
Thalia grins at her. She looks at Luke. “You’re right, I like her.”
“So I can come with you,” Annabeth says confidently.
“No,” Thalia says. “But, even if me kicking them doesn’t work next year, I have a mission for you.”
Luke frowns at her in askance.
“In like, four to seven years, Beth, this will be very important, so listen carefully,” Thalia says slowly. “There will be a boy who comes to camp, probably beat to Hades and back and probably grieving. I need you to befriend him.”
Annabeth looks puzzled. Chiron looks politely confused. Grover looks utterly befuddled. Luke looks like she’d slapped him with a hagfish and then offered him some sunflowers: astonished, disgusted, and delighted, all at the same time. Jason starts laughing.
“Thals,” Luke says, obviously trying not to laugh.
Annabeth looks at Luke and then back at Thalia. “It would be a prank on them?”
“It would be a kick in the face,” Thalia corrects. “He’s nice. Perhaps a little slow on the uptake sometimes, but he respects the women in his life.”
She considers this. “Four to seven years? I’d be twelve to fifteen?”
Thalia nods.
“Okay,” Annabeth decides. “If I don’t like him I can kick him though, right?”
“He’d probably deserve it,” Thalia agrees. “But don’t do it if he doesn’t deserve it.”
🗲
Thalia’s fifteen and Jason’s eight and they’re in Tennessee when an old dude named Fred approaches them. “That wasn’t very nice to set them up like that. Funny, though.”
Thalia glances to the side and sees the golden sunshine yellow of his iris. “They have a habit of setting us up to fulfill their rivalries. I’m just breaking the cycle.”
Jason peers around her from the other side to see who she’s talking to. He seems puzzled at who the stranger is, but cautiously says, “Hey, cousin.”
A hilariously safe bet.
Apollo seems to thinks so, too, because he guffaws once before he says hi back.
“But seriously, the kid’s got enough problems, you want to add to his list?” Apollo says.
“Luke was the best thing that ever happened to me, short of Jason,” Thalia says. “Someone who will argue with him rather than agreeing to everything will do them both a world of good.” She pauses. “I’m not the child of the prophecy. Am I.”
It’s not a question.
“You could be,” Apollo says finally. “Basically any time after you turn sixteen. But while some Old things are stirring, none of them are close to waking. There’s nothing happening that would aid you in Olympus’s fall, and nothing that would topple it that you’d be able to preserve.”
He pauses. “Between you and me?”
“And Jason,” Thalia says.
“And Jason,” Apollo agrees. “Prophecies can be fulfilled in a lot of odd ways. Ideas, you know, last beyond a mortal lifetime. Maybe you preemptively introducing that troublemaking pair will destroy an idea that Olympus holds sacred. Some things need to be changed, otherwise it will spell our end.”
Thalia glances at him and quirks a sarcastic smile. “Good thing I’m dyslexic.”
“Yes,” Apollo agrees, completely serious in the face of her joke. “Good thing that you are.”
She covers Jason’s eyes as Apollo goes supernova and they’re left alone in Nashville.
🗲
Jason’s eight and today is Thalia’s birthday, and Sally has taken the four of them out to a restaurant to celebrate when everything…
Well.
Thalia would say when everything goes to shit but it’s really when they reached the proverbial fork in the road. Or perhaps, when everything changes.
It starts with the restaurant’s door chiming open, with a woman’s gracious voice waving off the waitstaff saying, “My party is already here, thank you.” And she walks closer to them, a brown woman in a white business suit with a shirt that shimmers blue and green and purple. Her brown heels clack on the stone pavers that make up the floor.
She stops at their table and slides into the booth next to Thalia.
Across from her, Sally picks up her steak knife in a move that’s undeniably a threat. Thalia fucking loves her.
“Hera,” Thalia says evenly, making a show of going back to her menu. “I know immortals have a screwy sense of time, but I do believe you’ve managed to pick the worst possible time to have a confrontation. Congratulations. That takes some true talent.”
Hera reaches out and snags Sally’s menu that Sally is completely ignoring in favor of glaring metaphorical daggers at the goddess while threatening her with a steak knife. Thalia absently sends a prayer to both Apollo and Hermes. They both cover such a wide variety pack of stuff that one of them should cover badass but also kind and occasionally stupid mortals.
“On the contrary,” Hera says. “I believe this is the perfect time. We are constrained by polite society, so we must at least appear to get along.”
Thalia lowers the menu to look at Hera, and then swing her gaze at Sally. Hera lowers her stolen menu at the long look, and then sees the attempted threat. “Ah. Well. Some of us are constrained by polite society. I see that others don’t apply.”
Thalia takes a deep breath. It feels like it goes deeper than usual, somehow, like her guts have made way for her lungs. And, like magic, Thalia’s water tips over without anyone touching it and spills all over Hera.
Thalia hasn’t got a drop on her.
That—it felt like she did that, not Percy. Percy looks almost as startled as Thalia feels, safely sandwiched in between Sally, the table, and the wall. Hera makes a disgusted noise, taps her fingers along the menu, and the water vanishes. Thalia reaches out and rights the cup slowly.
“Lady, you’re probably the only one in polite society,” Thalia says bluntly. “Say your piece and get out.”
“Very well,” Hera says. “When I tried to take Jason six years ago, you told me that you would destroy Olympus if I succeeded to get him back. Does that still hold?”
“Yes,” Thalia snarls. Her fingers clench the menu in her hands and it feels like she’s holding onto a live wire now.
“Is that the only reason why you would even try?” Hera presses.
“Don’t fuck with me, Hera,” Thalia says. Her voice slides into a lower register that’s meant to be heard over a horde of monsters, but she still only speaks just above a whisper. “I have only ever wanted to be left alone by you people. Leave me and mine be and we won’t have an issue.”
“You and yours being?”
“The people at this table and Luke and his second family—Annabeth, Clarisse, Grover,” Thalia says. “Is that your game? You want to see who you can fuck over without me triggering the prophecy?”
Hera goes silent and Thalia knows she’s hit the nail on the head.
“You listen well, Hera, goddess of marriage,” Thalia says. “If I found out one of my people died because you’re so short sighted and possessive of a husband that has never and will never respect you, I will bring the prophecy down on all our heads, chop you into a gazillion pieces as Zeus did to Kronos, and toss you into Tartarus myself and let you rot with grandfather. If you insist on sharing his mental issues, you can share an unliving space with him as well.”
Hera’s jaw is clenched and her lips pursed together.
“How about,” Thalia continues, “you learn about this novel thing called communication, and possibly divorce. It’s the twenty first century, step mother, aunt, cunt, whatever you’d like me to call you. Women have rights, women have therapists, and women have divorce lawyers. Zeus was around for my childhood, I actually know the decrepit prick. I can’t imagine being around him for three thousand years and not straight up murdering him. If you have an issue with me besides me being born—which, I’ll remind you, I actually had no say in—not kidnapping my brother is a great way to start a conversation.”
Jason chokes on a laugh about reminding the goddess of marriage that she has no say in herself being born. Thalia silently tells him to shut the fuck up before Hera remembers his existence.
“The gods are not allowed—“
“Then it’s a great thing that you’ve never had demigod kids, so you can safely interact with demigods that are not your kids. Which is all of them.”
Thalia pauses. “Goodbye. I’m celebrating surviving to sixteen. You are not invited.” She waved down a server. “Could I get another water? I was really thirsty,” she says guilelessly.
Sally visibly swallows a laugh as Hera rises. Definitely not running from being threatened with more ice water on her suit. Nope. Definitely not.
“Your disrespect,” Hera says severely, “is only matched by your loyalty.”
And then she vanishes.
“Well, that went swimmingly,” Thalia says brightly. “I want lad naa.”
Sally sets down the knife carefully and then rests her head on the table.
🗲
(the mental image is too funny: a pristine business woman, a teenager with the nineties grunge aesthetic, two eight year old boys, and a mom in mom clothing sit down in a Siam restaurant.)
🗲
It’s when Thalia delivers them all safely back to the Jacksons’ apartment that she asks Percy quietly, “The water spilling. Was that—?”
“It wasn’t me,” Percy says uncertainly. “I dunno. It didn’t feel like me.”
“It felt like I did it,” Thalia says. “But that’s not my power.”
“Maybe the air pushed it over,” Jason says.
Thalia pauses. The air is their domain. She doesn’t remember any weird gusts of wind, but she was also very focused on not frying someone and also making sure Hera didn’t do something stupid, like try kidnapping Jason. Again.
“Maybe,” she says. But she doubts it.
🗲
Thalia’s seventeen and Jason is nine when they see the Jacksons again, a whole year and a half later. They celebrate Percy’s tenth birthday in a cabin on Montauk, and while Thalia’s supervising the boys playing in the surf, she can hear...something. In the cabin.
Sally is taking a well-deserved nap, or she’s supposed to be. Instead, she sits on the bed and bows her head over a head of dark, curly hair, attached to a tanned man kneeling in front of her.
Thalia shuts the door again just as quickly and guns it.
Later, she thinks, and wonders—that’s real devotion she saw there. That was I missed you and come with me? and he is beautiful. She naps under the sea of stars, one boy under each arm, and she can rest easy knowing that neither can be stolen away without her knowing immediately.
There’s a shush of displaced sand, and Percy shifts under her arm, and she cracks an eye open. She assumes its Sally, but its Poseidon, who rests a large hand on Percy’s forehead and looks awed and wistful.
He sees that she’s awake, a split second after she’s seen the heartache and longing on his face, and smiles at her ruefully. Thank you, he mouths, and dissolves into a salty sea breeze.
🗲
There’s an entire pack of hellhounds to deal with in the morning. Thalia picks Jason up with one arm and Percy with the other and hurls them both into the shack calling itself a cabin with Sally.
There’s a lot of yelling about her decision, but Percy has never been trained, Sally is a mortal, and Jason is nine. She can do this.
She can do this, right?
She draws her hunting knives and her power up from her gut and they crackle with lightning immediately.
Thalia gives them the run around, around and around and around the beach and over and behind the shack and into the surf. She’s dusted four already, starting to drag a little with the many scrapes and scratches and near misses that she’s acquired, and regrets taking off her leather jacket. She stabs another and somersaults off a dissolving back into the surf.
She hoists herself to her feet, ankle deep in the lapping waves. She sets her jaw, takes a deep breath, and braces herself. Another three. She can do three hellhounds. She’s done three hellhounds before.
Thalia almost has her feet knocked out from under her by the three-foot-high waves. The air has become dim and gray, and smells of ozone. She risks a glance away from the hellhounds to the sky and—
That’s a hurricane.
That’s impossible. Sally checked the forecast before they left for Montauk, there wasn’t a hurricane within a week’s hurricane travel time, and no potentials out in the Atlantic near New York, either.
Did she—?
Thalia checks in with herself and no, she’s not nearly as tired as she would be to make an entire hurricane so she couldn’t have done it but Percy?
Percy’s ten, and in danger, and aware of who he is, and the son of the Stormbringer, and with a distressed son of the sky. They could have done it.
Maybe. Does Jason even know what a hurricane is? Thalia’s steered them away from the eastern and southern coasts during summer and fall for a reason.
The hellhounds attack, and there’s no more time to think about it.
Thalia whirls out of the way of the first, stabbing her knife into its flank on the way by, blasts the second back with a string of lightning, and would have been eaten by the third if a rouge wave hadn’t scooped her up bodily and flung her clear.
Water doesn’t behave like that, Thalia thinks, crashing back into the surf. She sucks in a lungful of seawater, coughs it back up, and staggers to her feet. She goes down on one knee and braces herself when she sees the charging hellhound and lets it impale itself on her knife. It bursts into dust and whirls away on the rising winds.
She rolls to the left, out of the surf, to escape the other two bearing down on her. She jumps, and the wind gives her a boost, and she flips neatly over the first hellhound and stabs downward at the second hellhound’s skull with the full force of her entire self falling through the air and almost beheads the monster. She lands, tucking the knives out to the side and somersaults on the landing through the monster dust and pops back to her feet to see the final hellhound has managed to turn on a dime and is going to flatten her.
It does. One paw lands on her chest, the size of a dinner plate, and bowls her back into the sand. The breath wuffs out of her, and she scrabbles to bring to bear her knives—
The world goes white.
She’s—alive?
Yes. She’s in the water. The white is hundreds of thousands of bubbles in the wave that just tried to crush both her and the hellhound both. She can see the black mass, now, that she assumes is the hellhound, writhing in the waters about four yards off to her left.
Follow the bubbles. The surface is only a few feet above her head, thank you, Poseidon, and she swims up and gasps for air and tries to look around. The sound is choppy, gray and violent with the sudden hurricane whipping everything into a froth.
She’s hundreds of yards from shore.
Thalia swears loudly enough that she’s sure the boys can hear her from here. Lightning flashes overhead to punctuate it.
What happened? Was there a storm surge and then a riptide? She couldn’t have been out for more than a few seconds, if she was out at all!
Teeth sink into her leg and she’s dragged down again.
The hellhound is terrifyingly adept at swimming in the water. Thalia is a good enough swimmer to keep her head above water and get back to dry land, and not much else. Practicing surviving the water more than was absolutely necessary seemed foolish, given that one uncle already hated her guts. She was not about to try to piss off the other one, as well. She’d only let Jason play in the surf if Percy was also there.
Thalia was not above holding his son metaphorically hostage if it meant Poseidon would play nice with her brother.
It makes passes at Thalia in the water, darting in to claw or bite at her and darting away before Thalia can get a good hit in. She’s slow in the water, from both the resistance of the water and from the lack of air.
Out, out, I need to get OUT OF HERE—
There’s something wrong at the surface.
It looks wild from down below, but Thalia needs air and she’s not aware of any monsters that like hanging out in the air in a hurricane, so she swims for the surface.
Oh look, she deadpans to herself. A waterspout. Just what I need.
Hurricanes spawn tornadoes frequently, this should not be a shock. But she needed a way out, and a waterspout would, in fact, get her out of the water, and also probably slice her to pieces.
Hmm.
She dives back under the waves, gets whirled around a couple times by a wave cycle, and finally spots the hellhound. It sees her about the same time.
Thalia, thinking, what the HELL am I doing? swims towards the waterspout. She swims as fast as she can towards the waterspout that’s probably only thirty feet away, but feels like a mile.
The hellhound is on her before she can believe it, and she grabs it by the chest fur, ducking under the dangerous teeth, hauls herself close, and swings around, hoping that her own momentum would do what she hoped. It did, it reversed them, so that the hellhound was closer to the surface than she was, and then Thalia braced both feet against its chest and blasted it back with a plume of bubbles.
My superpower, Thalia thinks, amused, bubbles.
Straight into the vortex it goes, and up, and up—
Thalia surfaces ten feet away, swimming backwards, and watches the hellhound get sucked more than thirty feet up before it dissolves into golden dust. She breathes out a sigh of relief. The waterspout dissolves just as quickly as it formed.
Can’t believe that worked, she thinks, and starts swimming to shore.
There’s a lot of yelling. And nobody can agree on who made the hurricane, or the waterspout, or the weird waves, but they’re all tired as Hades.
🗲
Thalia is eighteen and Jason is eleven and the world almost ended. It’s June 24th, mere days before Jason turns twelve, three days after Percy pulled some seriously stupid stunts for a month and then vanished again, and Thalia found out that he, Annabeth, and Grover found Zeus’s zappy wand and returned it in the nick of time before all out war broke out.
She and Jason storm Camp Half-Blood. There’s a lot of yelling involved, and some blood, and some swords stuck in places they should not be stuck. Luke pulls her off to the side and she has both hands wrapped around the edges of his breastplate because otherwise they’ll shake and she’s whispering, “What the fuck, Luke. He’s twelve. Why—How—?” over and over again into his collarbone.
“Thals,” he says, chuckling, wrapping her in a hug. “Those three are going to take over the world, and the world will be gladder for it.”
“They shouldn’t have to,” she says.
“I think world domination would be a self-directed and mostly accidental task, actually,” Luke says thoughtfully, and its such a ludicrous statement that Thalia falls into hysterical laughter.
#atc rewrite#all together cousins#pjo#fanfic#im excited actually#thalia pov#pre books and tlt#mostly pre books though#do i need to list the entire cast of characters#okay just the important ones#thalia grace#jason grace#luke castellan#percy jackson#sally jackson#hera#there are plenty of others but they're currently in fairly minor parts of the story or only mentioned
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hmm i saw you asking for requests and i don’t really have anything specific but i follow a poetry account on instagram that posted these prompts last month i think, and there was one for each day and one was ‘gas station coffee’. idk but that sparked a little smth in my brain that i’ve never been able to successfully smother and i thought maybe it would inspire you and a member of svt? i really admire the way you write. it’s so serene and calming
hi! thank you for requesting and sharing kinds words about my writing🥺 this idea is ✨✨
i’m not going to assign this one, but mingyu and hansol came to mind while writing >.<
suggestive 18+
you’re his spoonful of honey
it’s freezing.
it’s so hot outside you need the freezing, but it’s so much cold. the blowing ac has reached an extravagant degree, so you’re craving gas station coffee.
it’s dark outside.
it feels quite fitting to pull over at the old construction with neon lights, and gas pumps half-broken, closed off with yellow caution.
he’ll kiss you over the center console, let his hand brush the back of your neck to keep you connected, to hold onto the sweetness of your lips because you might come back next time with a different taste.
“what do you want?” you mumble the words against his mouth before pulling away with heavy eyelids. kisses are better than caffeine. you wish someone would have told you. how many people kept the secret to themselves?
“something black and bitter.”
“i could’ve figured that out on my own.” you smile, pulling away completely and reaching for your bag on the floor. he watches your shirt’s failing coverage, exposing an inch or two of skin… the bottom of your spine… a constellation of moles his lips love to trace. “i’ll be right back.” the view is gone before he managed a couple blinks.
he watches from the car: you turn around and mouth something sweet, something lovely, before opening the front door; you run your fingers through your hair as you look for the dispensers filled with a desirable black and bitter gasoline.
the old construction needs renovation, but the coffee smells just right. coffee always does. always pulls you in and keeps you excited until the taste ends up lingering. until you notice it’s not quite right. the notes are missing something deeper, but you’ve got him. he’ll give you what you need, a kind of completion.
a few bills are enough to pay for the to go cups of hot caffeine. dark as the night sky. dark as his eyes when you open the passenger door.
“thank you, baby. what do i owe you?”
“mind turning the ac down before the goosebumps solidify on my skin?”
“i can do that, but the coffee will help too.” he smiles as he says it. how dare he smile like he doesn’t know his lips turned up are magical.
“not bad for a gas station.” but he places the cup between his thighs and finds your lips for that something sweet. for the sugar he didn’t ask for but always needs. what would you say if he admitted you’re his spoonful of honey?
he turns on his AUX instead. plays a song that sings the words for him. he shifts the gear to reverse and leaves the gas station parking lot. the sound of rubber on asphalt in your ears.
you watch the neon fade to blurry words before nothing but the sky and headlights are seen through the side mirror.
the taste of coffee coats your tongue, fills your mouth, and takes away all of him: all the sweetness that leaves you defenseless when he says your name and what he wants.
god, it’s just coffee.
#seventeen scenarios#seventeen blurbs#seventeen imagines#hansol scenarios#hansol imagine#hansol blurbs#mingyu scenarios#mingyu imagines#mingyu blurb#minghao scenarios#seungcheol scenarios#jeonghan scenarios#wonwoo scenarios#chan scenarios#boyfriend things
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A Year of Sanderson
End-of-Year Wrap-Up
When Brandon Sanderson announced his kickstarter for a year-long subscription box, I was so excited! But it's been the biggest let down ever. It was really expensive, and we really didn't get much for our money. I feel so ripped off. And more than that, it doesn't feel like there was a lot of thought put into the items. It was just a way of making a lot of money fast.
At the beginning of the year, I made this post: Guesses, Wishes, Hopes, Dreams..., in which I detailed the kinds of things I was hoping for from this subscription.
Firstly, the books. I said that I wanted the books to work as a set, so that they looked good lined up together. They half managed this. The books were clearly designed together, they're similar in style. But they don't work as a set. For a start, there are two blue books right next to each other. The spine layout is different on the third book as well, which is annoying.
The other thing I wanted was premium book features. Artwork endpapers, ribbon bookmarks, fancy foiling, gilded edges, slipcases. I got almost none of these. The covers were foiled, and there were decorative endpapers, although only the last book had full artwork papers. The only book with sprayed edges was the last, which had plain black edges. The were no ribbon bookmarks, no slipcases, and nothing to set these apart from any other special edition you could buy in a bookstore.
As for the goodies, or as he termed it, "swag"? A total waste of money. This subscription was so, so expensive. Even before shipping, these were more expensive than any of the other boxes I subscribed to.
In other boxes, you get an exclusive book, plus four to five items. In this subscription, you got a book or the items each month, not both. So honestly? I was expecting at least seven or eight items in the "swag" boxes. We got three. And the quality was lacking.
Box 1: Hoid
For this box, I had no specific wishes. The only request I had was that it be "imaginative". On that, they failed. We got a t-shirt, some post-it notes, and some stickers. Essentially, promotional business supplies.
Box 2: Cytoverse
This was the only non-Cosmere box, so this was the box I was looking forward to most. I asked for a slug plushie, a special edition of Defending Elysium, and some DDF attire. What we actually got was a pack of playing cards, an ice cube tray, and a little model spaceship. The model was good quality, so was probably good for memorabilia collectors, but didn't interest me.
Box 3: Mistborn
I wanted a Mistcloak, and a Soonie Pup (I specified "like the ones in the newspaper clippings" because they were so cute!). I got a Soonie Pup, it's true... but instead of a cute plush toy, it was like, an arcade grabber prize? Gross! We also got bookends and stickers. The bookends are really nice, and one of the few items I'll be keeping. The stickers were a bit rubbish.
Box 4: Sel
I didn't have any particular wishes for this one, which is good, because I'd definitely have been let down - I couldn't have predicted these ones. There was a wax seal and rubber stamp kit, but they were super low quality, so I didn't keep them. And some... magnets...? For some reason? And some plasters, or "band-aids", as the Americans say.
Box 5: Cosmere
I have no idea why they did a "Cosmere" box, when most of the other boxes were also based around the Cosmere. I thought this might include a map, and I said that I'd be disappointed with a poster. This was probably the best box. We got a wash bag, a luggage tag, and some postcards. I like all these items, but it still doesn't seem value for money.
Box 6: Warbreaker
I wanted a Nightblood letter opener, and that is what I got! It's sadly boring in appearance, but it's very practical, and kind of elegant, I guess. There were also some glass coasters, which were hideous, and didn't seem to have anything to do with the theme. And some... breath mints. Yeah.
Box 7: Stormlight
I love Stormlight, so I was looking forward to this box. I was hoping for a set of pens shaped like various Shardblades, and a set of glass gemstone Spheres with LEDs inside so they glowed when charged, like in the books, and an axehound plushie. We got a Shardblade keyring, but it is way too big to be practical. And a mini figurine, which I very specifically didn't want to get. The last item is an over-the-shoulder bag. It's a really quality item, and I want to love it, but it's just so... nerdy. I know, I know, it's fantasy... of course it's nerdy. But this is too much.
Box 8: Sanderson Fan
After this subscription, I am no longer a Sanderson Fan. I was hoping for something "Reckoners" and something "Firstborn", and I was expecting a 2024 calendar. We didn't get any of those. We got a notebook and a pair of socks. I also was hoping for another book. We did kind of get another book - we got a short story. However, it's left a bitter taste in my mouth, as this book has already gone on general sale, for only $12, or free as an eBook! So why did I pay all that money for these boxes?? What a rip off!
There has, since the kickstarter, been loads of amazing merchandise released on Brandon Sanderson's shop, loads of which looks really good, and which I would love. Instead, we mostly just got cheap tat.
And to make it even worse. We were offered, as a "thank you" gift, a set of pins. This was like, their version of a stretch goal. But when the boxes started arriving, they tried to pass it off as part of the "cost" of the box, like it was one of the actual items. This was especially aggravating, as the pins were the ugliest things ever.
Overall, the only things I'm actually keeping from the "swag" boxes are the bookends, the wash bag, the postcards, and the book. I cannot emphasise how much of a waste of money this kickstarter was.
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