#ollie writes fanfic
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to find promise of peace (and the solace of rest): a TMA fanfic
Read from the beginning on Tumblr || AO3 || My Website
Chapter 100: February 2018
“…Statement ends.” Martin let the last page fall into his lap and sighed. It wasn’t exactly satisfaction or delight, but he felt…full, in a way he hadn’t in a while. Weak as the thing that had once been half of a whole and was now the sole remnant of a near conquering army was, it was still old and it hadn’t survived that long not being powerful. He’d be able to live off this one for a bit.
“It’s probably a bad sign that I’ve started thinking of these statements in terms of flavor,” he mused into the recorder, which buzzed comfortingly in his hand. “It’s definitely a bad sign that statements from other avatars and servitors—Jude Perry, Breekon, my fucking mother—the people and things that cause fear more than anything—literally seem to leave a bad or bitter taste in my mouth, but ones from actual victims are…almost sweet. The written ones we’ve got out in the Archives don’t really have much flavor to them, but they satiate the hunger, even if I do have to, uh, consume more of them to do that. Still, I think I’m going to stick with that for a while. That’s not something I want to start getting a taste for, especially after this statement. And I can really do without any more nightmares.” He paused, thinking it over. “I wonder if Breekon dreams.”
A few feet away, Melanie shifted on the cot and groaned softly. That wasn’t all that unusual; she’d been doing it off and on since Martin had come in, and he’d mostly tuned it out while he was recording. This time, however, she came awake with a gasp. “Oh, fu—”
“Melanie?” Martin straightened up and set the recorder on the top of the file cabinet as he scooted closer. “Hey, hey, it’s okay, you’re safe.”
“Ma—Mar’in?” Melanie blinked at him, looking disorientated and lost. “Why’s m’ leg hur’?”
Martin had really hoped that wouldn’t be the first question she asked when she came round, but of course Melanie couldn’t go for the clichéed Where am I query. He tried to speak as gently as possible. “There was a bullet in your leg. We had to take it out.”
“I got shot? ‘Gain?” Melanie frowned and patted vaguely at her leg. “Why ‘m I…pants?”
“Hang on.” Martin picked up the cup of tea Jon had made him and pressed it gently into Melanie’s hands. On second thought, he cupped his own hands under hers and guided it to her mouth. “Here. Take a drink, okay? You’re probably dehydrated.” He was stalling, and he knew it, but he also knew that if he explained it to her while she was still groggy and couldn’t process properly just so she would accept without argument, things would be way worse later on. Anyway, she was probably dehydrated.
Melanie took several slow, careful sips. After about the third one, a funny look crossed her face; it took two more before she looked at Martin, her eyebrows knitting together but her eyes looking a bit clearer—emphasis on a bit. “Why did you put milk in my tea?”
“I didn’t. Jon put milk in my tea, but that was all I had on hand.” Martin reached out for the mug, and Melanie let him have it. “How are you feeling?”
Melanie considered the question seriously from all angles. “Like shit.”
Martin couldn’t help but laugh. “That’s…probably fair.”
He took a sip of the tea—cold, but it still tasted just fine—and watched Melanie for a moment as she studied herself. Sasha hadn’t thrown a blanket over her when she laid her down, so her legs were fully on display. She touched the bare skin exposed by the torn pant leg lightly. “Did something…get me?”
There was a temptation, a very, very small temptation, to let her believe that, but even the possibility of lying about something like this sent a sticky swirl of guilt through Martin’s chest, and he knew he’d never be able to do it. He’d never been anything but honest with Melanie and he definitely wasn’t going to start with something like what he’d done. “I told you, we had to take a bullet out of your leg.”
“Right. Right.” Melanie took a deep breath and looked up at him suspiciously. “How’d it get there?”
“India. Or so we assume. The whole damn thing was soaked in the Slaughter, and it was…infecting you.” Martin swallowed hard, well aware that the slowly spreading striations of red spreading from that spot on her thigh like a glowing map of the London Underground was going to haunt his every waking moment for a while yet—there wasn’t room for it in his nightmares anymore. “We—I got it all, but…Jesus, Neens, I’m sorry. I should have…I should have Looked sooner.”
“I wouldn’t have let you,” Melanie admitted candidly. She ran her fingers around the butterflies. “You did this?”
Martin hummed in the affirmative. “Might have to get you down to the clinic in a bit to get proper stitches in there and make sure I didn’t, you know, cause a regular infection. But I did what I could with what I had.”
“Mmm.” Melanie scraped her tongue against her teeth. “What’d you knock me out with? Feels like that time I tried to be helpful and clean the bathroom.”
“That’s…not a bad comparison, actually. It was chloroform.”
“Chloroform?” Weak as she was, a flare of anger rose in Melanie’s eyes, and she sat up straighter. “Where the fuck did you get chloroform?”
Martin held up both his hands. The temptation to let her believe that was even stronger, but he knew nobody would forgive him if he did. “I didn’t. Sasha had it. She wouldn’t tell me why, just said not to ask questions I didn’t want to know the answers to, but…”
“But you asked anyway?”
“I didn’t. Swear on Dad’s crypt. I’m guessing it wasn’t for you, but I haven’t asked, o-or tried Looking. I had other things to worry about.” Martin risked reaching for one of Melanie’s hands. “Like getting that bullet out of your leg before it took you over completely. Or reassuring Jon I wasn’t going to bleed to death.”
“You weren’t going to bleed to death?” Melanie said incredulously.
Martin winced. “Um. Well. You sort of…stabbed me?”
“I what?” Melanie shrieked, at a decibel level that definitely tested the room’s soundproofing. What little color there was in her face drained out of it. She lurched forward and started to swing her legs towards the edge of the cot.
“Easy, easy, Neenie, I’m okay!” Martin blocked her shoulder as gently as he could with one hand to forestall her. With the other, he tugged at the tear he’d made in his shirt, widening it so she could see the knitted pink ridge of flesh on his chest. “See? I’m okay. Bleeding stopped easily enough.”
He hoped she would assume it hadn’t been a deep cut. She didn’t. “That’s not any better, Martin! Jesus, I—I remember now. I was so angry with everything—Valentine’s Day and Ash Wednesday, and Basira being gone and Jon being so upset about the anniversary of Leitner’s murder, and the Chinese New Year is t-tomorrow and that’s the same day it was the year Mama died—and then you told me you were going to Look for me—fucking hell, you didn’t even actually do it! And I just got so mad and—and then I—what is that, ten Marks you’ve got now?”
Martin hesitated. “Twelve, I think. But it’s—honestly, Melanie, it’s okay. Just one more scar for the collection, I guess.” He tried for a laugh. “Not the end of the world, you know?”
Melanie didn’t seem particularly convinced of that; at the very least, she looked as though it might be the end of the world for her. “But I gave it to you.”
“And I forgive you for that.” Martin tried to go in for a hug, but Melanie leaned away and he sat back, willing to not push things. Instead, he tapped the side of his head. He’d discovered, the first time he actually looked in a mirror after getting home from America, that the lock of hair there had turned white as snow. “Papa gave me this one. I don’t blame him for it. Half the other Marks I have are from protecting people I love—”
“But they aren’t scars.”
“I was trying to protect Jon from the worms when I got, well…” Martin gestured at the faint scars still dotting his face. “Trevor only stabbed me because I wouldn’t tell him where to find Gerry.”
“That’s different and you know it. So is your father kissing you, that’s not—” Melanie reached out like she wanted to touch the stab wound, but drew back. “Jesus, I could have killed you. I—I tried to kill you.”
“Maybe,” Martin conceded. “But you didn’t kill me.” He took her hand and placed it over the scar—placed it, too, over his heart, so she could feel that it was still beating strongly in his chest. “More important, you didn’t want to kill me. I’m okay, Neens. I promise. It’s going to be okay.”
“I hate you,” Melanie grumbled, but she pressed her hand a bit closer to his chest before sliding it away. “And I’m still angry.”
Martin shrugged. “I didn’t cut all of the Slaughter out of you, just the bullet. You were still Marked by it before that.”
“I still don’t get how just watching Sarah Baldwin talk to…whatever it was was enough to Mark me,” Melanie mumbled. “I was fascinated by it, but I wasn’t afraid of it like I was of Sarah.”
Another lance of horrible, almost crippling guilt pierced Martin through the heart. God, how had he not thought of that himself, way back when he first Looked to see their Marks? “You…I think you were Marked way earlier than that, Neenie. Talking of when your mother died—do, do you remember the lion dance?”
“I mean, there’s always a…” Melanie trailed off, frowning as she obviously tried to remember. Suddenly her eyes widened. “Oh. Oh, my God. It—there was a lion I didn’t recognize and it was chasing the musicians—it killed one and—Lau Pei, one of the real lions, the regular ones, he asked me for help and…oh, God, I’d forgotten about that. I thought I dreamed it.” Her gaze suddenly sharpened, and she turned a scowl on Martin. “Get out of my head.”
“I didn’t look in your head,” Martin insisted. “Tim told me. Apparently Gerry had a flashback about it—a flashback where he was you, like the one he had before Christmas where he was Mum. Tim didn’t have a lot of details, but Gerry’s on his way, in theory, so you can ask him about it.”
Melanie swung her good leg off the cot. “Well. Let’s go do that, then.”
She swung the second leg off to meet the first and winced as it—evidently—pulled at the cut, but she swatted away Martin’s concerned hand. She did, at least, accept his assistance in standing up, and leaned heavily on his arm as they limped out the door and into the Archives.
Tim and Sasha were apparently mid-argument; they stopped when they heard Martin and Melanie coming towards them and turned. Sasha smiled, a bit tentatively, but her eyes were still worried. “Melanie—how are you feeling?”
“Sore, but I’ll live.” Melanie’s tone of voice implied she wasn’t altogether sure if that was a good thing or not, and possibly that she intended to make that Sasha’s problem. “Martin told me what happened. Where’s Gerry, and why did you have chloroform?”
“Gerry’s on his way,” Tim said, in a gentle voice that was probably meant to be soothing and that even a few hours ago would probably have had Melanie throwing things. “He had an appointment with someone about a book, probably not a Leitner, but he said he’d be here as soon as he could.”
Melanie turned back to Sasha, but before either of them could say anything, the exterior door to the Archives opened, followed by hurrying footsteps. A second later, Gerry appeared, looking out of breath and worried. Whoever he’d been meeting with had obviously been important; far from his usual band shirts and baggy jeans, he was dressed in a cream-colored turtleneck and pressed trousers, an old and faded green corduroy jacket with leather patches at the elbows, and brown loafers. He’d even tied his hair back in a low ponytail, so he looked more like a professor or an academic than a goth painter. The thing that startled Martin most about his appearance was the white streak on the side of his head, despite the rest of his hair being freshly dyed a shiny, even black that would, given past evidence, start fading in random streaks and patches in a day or two.
“Is everyone okay?” he asked breathlessly. “What happened?”
Tim, Sasha, and—surprisingly—Melanie all turned to look at Martin, who sighed. “We’re fine. Mostly. Melanie still had a bullet in her leg from when she got shot in India and it was infecting her with the Slaughter—”
“What?” Gerry’s face turned, if anything, even paler than usual. “Jesus, Melanie, I’m so sorry, I should have—”
“Should have what? You don’t have freaky Eye powers,” Melanie snapped, then added grudgingly, “And I wouldn’t have let Martin Look if he’d asked, so it’s not anyone’s fault but mine. I stabbed Martin over it.” Before Gerry could react to that, she turned to Sasha and added, “And you didn’t answer my question. Why did you have chloroform?”
“I think Gertrude had some, but I’m pretty sure she used it all,” Gerry said, a bit uncertainly. “Wait, you knocked her out with chloroform?”
“I…yes,” Sasha admitted. “Just a little, though. I mean, it was just enough for her body weight to knock her out, and not so much that it would do permanent damage—”
“And why did you have it, Sasha?” Melanie demanded.
“Melanie,” Martin murmured. He was burning with curiosity, too, but if Sasha had said he didn’t want to know, he probably didn’t want to know.
“No, fuck that, that’s not something you just have. Let alone know how much to use.” Melanie folded her arms over her chest and glared at Sasha. “How long have you been planning to knock me out?”
“I haven’t, I swear,” Sasha insisted. She glanced up at Martin, a bit guiltily, then sighed and said in a low voice, “It was for you. Just—you know, just in case.”
“WHAT?” Melanie’s yell rattled the shelves around them.
“Melanie, stop.” Martin grabbed her by the shoulder and gave her a warning squeeze. “I’ve been demonstrating more and more dangerous powers. Why wouldn’t she have some way to take me out if they got out of hand? I’m not entirely sure chloroform’s the best choice, though. I mean, under the best of circumstances, it takes too long to kick in and I’m taller and heavier than you are, I’d probably be able to fight you off. And in an…avatar state, I guess, I’d likely be way too drunk on my own power to respond well to that. You probably need something closer to a tranquilizer dart.”
“Jesus.” Tim pinched the bridge of his nose briefly. “Don’t let Jon hear you saying things like that.”
Martin looked around, his anxiety suddenly spiking for no real reason he could think of. “Where is Jon?”
“Running an errand. He’ll be back,” Sasha answered. She turned to Gerry. “Tim said you’ve been having flashbacks where you’re other people?”
“Not often, but yeah,” Gerry said slowly. “Did we…not tell you about that? It’s how I knew to tell Martin to call Aunt Lily before Christmas, I’d had a flashback where I was her.”
“And you had one where you were Melanie? What did you—”
“No, wait,” Melanie interrupted, letting go of Martin’s arm and leaning on the desk in front of her. Her eyes were fixed, not on Gerry, but on Sasha. “What’s Jon up to? What kind of errand could he be running? He wouldn’t have gone off without telling Martin, unless he was just going to the break room to get tea—and if he was doing that, you’d have said so from the off. What’s he doing?”
“It’s fine,” Sasha said. “He won’t be long, I’m sure.”
“You’re not answering the question,” Melanie said suspiciously.
Martin could feel the static building on his tongue and behind his eyes—the urge to compel Sasha to tell him exactly where Jon had gone and what he was doing—which meant it was something she, or Jon, or both, didn’t want him to know. It could be that it was a nice surprise for Valentine’s Day, which they didn’t celebrate, but no way was his luck that good. And the fact that his anxiety was coalescing into pure fear told him that was probably not what it was anyway.
He swallowed hard to force the Eye back and said, softly and with a great effort to keep it neutral, “Sasha?”
“I told you this was a bad idea,” Tim hissed.
“Well, it’s not going to do any good otherwise,” Sasha hissed back.
And that was it. Martin knew, deep in his bones, without the Eye providing him any additional help. He knew where Jon had gone, what he’d done, what he was risking, what was going to happen to him.
“No,” he whispered, turning towards the door to the Archivist’s office.
“Look, if he hadn’t, someone else would have,” Sasha said desperately. “Eventually. You wouldn’t have been able to leave it alone and Melanie would have been trying to atone or, or whatever, and Gerry would have been trying to protect all of us, and he made the argument that he had the best chance of finding her and getting out safely…”
“I’m sorry, what are we talking about?” Melanie demanded.
“The coffin is in there,” Tim blurted out. “The one that Breekon and Hope were toting around, only there’s only one of them left. It delivered it not long before I got here, and it’s in Martin’s office. Daisy is in there and Jon says she’s still alive. He went in to try and get her out.”
“What?” Gerry and Melanie cried in unison.
“No, no, no.” Martin would not panic, damn it all, that wouldn’t help. He had to be calm and rational and—and screw that, the man he loved more than life itself, the man he loved so much it hurt, had climbed into a box that led directly to the Buried. He had every reason to panic. Clutching the recorder he’d forgotten he still held, he started for the office.
“Whoa!” Tim grabbed his arm.
“Let go of me, Tim.” Martin yanked his arm free, making Tim stumble back a step.
“No, don’t!” Melanie cried out, lunging towards him and managing to grab his sleeve, at least.
Gerry rushed around the desks and stood between him and the door, arms outspread. “Martin, you can’t, you’ve already been Marked, it—it won’t let you go.”
“I’m not leaving Jon down there alone!” Martin wasn’t crying, but it was taking a lot of effort not to, and also not to call on the Beholding and Know where Jon was, compel the others to leave him alone, force them to let him in…even if that wasn’t really in his purview. “Someone has to go in after him, and it might as well be me!”
“No.” Gerry’s voice echoed with the strange, resonant quality it had taken on in the warehouse when he Reaped the waxwork that had turned out to be Danny, at Rosewood Forest when he’d proclaimed Liliana Blackwood’s death. The air in the Archives seemed to drop several degrees, and Gerry’s eyes lost all their color—pupils, iris, even the blood vessels turning white, like a pencil sketch. His hair, too, suddenly turned white, coming loose from its tie to stand on end in a flowing, undulating halo around his head like he’d just received a jolt of static electricity.
“Shit.” Tim pushed himself straight and lunged forward. He ran around behind Gerry and wrapped his arms around his torso from behind. “Got you. I’m here. I’m here.”
Martin had never, in his entire life, been afraid of his brother, but he was afraid now. The recorder clattered to the desk, miraculously not breaking or popping open, as he grabbed Melanie and Sasha on instinct to try and protect them. “What’s going on?”
Tim’s face was ashen. “Just wait. You’ll see.”
Gerry lifted his head, seeming to stare at a point somewhere over Martin’s shoulder, but also seeming to stare at something that wasn’t there…or at the very least wasn’t then. The temperature continued to drop…and drop…and drop…until Martin, clasping Sasha and Melanie as close to himself as he could, swore he could hear ice crystals forming in the air. He found himself instinctively gathering the static, gearing himself up to compel Gerry to stop…if he could even compel him in this state. If it was even Gerry to be compelled and not the End itself.
And then…Gerry began to speak.
#ollie writes fanfic#tma fanfic#the magnus archives#to find promise of peace (and the solace of rest)#martin blackwood#melanie king#sasha james#tim stoker#gerard keay#compulsion#mention of stabbing#mention of nonconsentual surgery#anger#arguments#panic
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CLOWNS AND CARS - PADDOCK PASS, BABY [ PART FIVE ]
in which y/n hamilton might've accidently manifested her dad's dnf (australia 24)
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y/nhamilton
liked by pierregasly, charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1 & others
y/nhamilton: "what did it cost you (to convince these two to step away from the track)?"
"nothing (one of my dad's signed hats)"
tagged: kimi.antonelli, olliebearman
pinned
y/nhamilton: guys i know the actual line is 'everything'. stop attacking me, i'm sensitive
-> user: i just choked on my water
-> y/nhamilton: are you okay?
-> user: yeah i'm fine now!
pinned
y/nhamilton: @/landonorris see how well MY bracelet would match with that fit
-> landonorris: you mean mine? you're never getting it back just accept the fact
-> y/nhamilton: never
pinned
y/nhamilton: swipe to the end to see a wallaby sniff oliver
-> kimi.antonelli: not pictured is oliver screaming very loud and running away
-> olliebearman: i'm literally being bullied by two CHILDREN
user: omgg pretty 😍
user: ollie in the third slide is looking up the way y/n normally does when they talk
-> y/nhamilton: i'm not short. he's built like a giraffe
user: omgg look at kimi with the koala
-> y/nhamilton: that's not a koala. it's a mirror
user: queen hamilton making sure no one featured on her page gets an ego 🤩
logansargeant: invite?
-> y/nhamilton: boy you were sleeping
-> logansargeant: so THAT'S what all of those calls were for
carlossainz55: 🫎🫎
->y/nhamilton: 🫏🫏
-> user: i have no idea what this means and i never will, but i look forward to carlos' comment EVERY time y/n posts
doriane_pin: pretty girl 😍
-> y/nhamilton: marry me 💍
-> doriane_pin: 👰👰👩❤️💋👩
-> kimi.antonelli: what did i just see?
-> y/nhamilton: congrats, you were a witness at our wedding!
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y/nhamilton
liked by pierregasly, charles_leclerc, olliebearman & others
y/nhamilton: last slide is me watching the aus gp if you even care
tagged: lewishamilton, valtteribottas, maxverstappen1
user: I CARE!
user: y/n hamilton back at it with the gp dumps
charles_leclerc: where are the podium pics?
-> y/nhamilton: you put that filter on all of the ones you sent. it's not the vibe i'm going for today
logansargeant: are you still depressed about the uno cards?
-> y/nhamilton: yes.
carlossainz55: 🏆🏆
-> y/nhamilton:🏅🏅
user: nahh you can't be clowning ferrari. that's your new home
-> y/nhamilton: i've got a year
lewishamilton: well... at least i made the photo dump (?)
-> y/nhamilton: TWICE
sebastianvettel: since when do you have a cat?
-> y/nhamilton: it's a reaction meme seb. i don't have a cat
ausgp: we'll be back next year!!
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TAGLIST: @67-angelofthelordme-67 , @somepeoplemaybe , @nothaqks , @theforevermorereject , @thatonesblog , @deviltsunoda , @xoscar03 , @mess-is-my-aesthetic , @d3kstar , @bwormie , @ietss , @sapphiccloud , @helaenatargaryensfavoritebug , @urfavsgf , @evie-119 , @raevyng , @khaylin27 , @champomiel <3
send a message/comment/ask to be added to the taglist!
NOTE: fifth part is heree! if you guys want to see something that already happened in prev seasons, send in an ask/comment! i meant to have this out earlier in the week, pretend it takes place before today! don't forget to like + reblog <3
#naqia's au's!#naqia writes!#paddock pass baby! au#lewis hamilton#sir lewis hamilton#dad!lewis hamilton#lewis hamilton!daughter#formula one racing#formula 1#formula one#formula 1 x reader#formula 1 imagine#formula 1 fanfic#formula 1 x you#formula 1 fic#f1#f1 x reader#f1 imagine#f1 fanfic#f1 fic#f1 x you#formula 1 social media au#formula 1 smau#f1 social media au#f1 smau#lewis hamilton social media au#lewis hamilton smau#ollie bearman#oliver bearman#kimi antonelli
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stick season — OB38 (smau)
pairing: ollie bearman x leclerc!singer!reader
summary: ollie slowly falls for charles' younger sister
warnings: google translated french
a/n: i need to give ollie the biggest hug and put him in my pocket
masterlist !
⋆ ˚ ｡ ⋆ ୨୧ ˚
y/nleclerc just posted !
liked by charles_leclerc, olliebearman and 1,084 others
y/nleclerc my new cover of "all my love" by noah kahan is out now !! available on youtube and spotify :)🤍
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user1 been waiting for a noah cover FOREVER 🤩
user2 she is the moment !
user3 charles being supportive in the youtube comment section i need a minute 😖
carlossainz55 ❤️❤️❤️
user4 olivia song next plz!!!
charles_leclerc beautiful as always mon ours (my bear)
y/nleclerc learned from the best 😙
user5 charles calling her his bear cause theyre her fav animal I CANT DO THIS
user6 ollie being in the likes????
user7 pls they've been best friends for like ever calm down 😭😭
y/nleclerc just posted !
liked by olliebearman, scuderiafarrari and 1,409 others
y/nleclerc me and b-man went to the paddock this weekend ‼️‼️ charles_leclerc olliebearman
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user1 oh i know this trio caused some chaos
user2 more ferrari polaroid pics when?!
scuderiaferrari loved having you back y/n ❤️
y/nleclerc loved being back :)❤️
user3 the way she calls ollie bman 😭😭
olliebearman never call me b-man again
y/nleclerc no promises 🤗
user4 the trio i never knew i needed in the paddock
user5 i already KNOW y/n has the most silly charles pics
charles_leclerc don't think i didn't see you giggling when ollie was around y/n
y/nleclerc charles not on the main.....
user6 CHARLES EXPOSING Y/N PLSSS
twitter !
imessage !
olliebearman just posted !
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olliebearman wonderful race in my hometown 🇬🇧 stoked to see how next week will go! y/nleclerc
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user1 she went to the race with him 🤭🤭
user2 OOOH OLIVER BEARMAN!!!!!!!!!
y/nleclerc my fav brit 🫶🏻
olliebearman 🫶🏻
user3 they're so 😖😖😖😖😖
user4 podium ollie lives in my head rent free
user5 the way they looked at each other before ollie got into the car :(((
charles_leclerc you would not believe how many texts i got when you got p2
y/nleclerc CHARLES.....
olliebearman how many were there
charles_leclerc 27 😬
user6 charles exposing y/n pt 2
olliebearman just posted !
liked by y/nleclerc, charles_leclerc and 159,302 others
olliebearman had to go to miss bear's first ever concert 🤍 y/nleclerc
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user1 he went to BOTH shows 😣
user2 definition of if he wanted to he would
user3 THE CAPTION?????????
user4 MISS. BEAR.
y/nleclerc ily 🥹🥹
olliebearman anything for my bear
user5 HIS BEAR??!?!!!!!?!?!??
user6 so is no one gonna point out the last slide...
user7 possible soft launch???????
charles_leclerc i guess i can share my bear
user8 😭😭😭
y/nleclerc just posted !
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y/nleclerc ❤️🩹🐻 olliebearman
comments limited to y/nleclerc's followers
olliebearman i love being your bear
y/nleclerc i love being yours
bffusername RUE?? WHEN WAS THIS????
y/nleclerc 😅😅😅
charles_leclerc no pda in the f1 paddock please
carlossainz55 but they're adorable 😊
y/nleclerc yeah charles we're adorable 🥺
charles_leclerc just posted !
liked by olliebearman, y/nleclerc and 422,510 others
charles_leclerc mon ours a trouvé la sienne ❤️ y/nleclerc olliebearman
translation my bear found hers
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user1 OH MY GOD????????
user2 the caption :(
olliebearman y/n's been crying over this for a good 5 minutes
charles_leclerc good cry?
olliebearman she keeps switching between french and english, so yes??
carlossainz55 the cutest paddock kids
user3 charles hard launching his sisters relationship is so funny to me
user4 f1 cameraman you know what to do...
y/nleclerc 🥹🥹🥹
user5 been a y/nollie shipper since day one 🤞
#shelbi writes#keerysfreckles#ollie bearman#ollie bearman x reader#ollie bearman x you#ollie bearman x y/n#ollie bearman smau#ollie bearman x female reader#ollie bearman x fem reader#ollie bearman x fem!reader#ollie bearman x female!reader#ollie bearman x leclerc reader#ollie bearman x leclerc!reader#f2#f2 fic#f2 fanfic#f2 smau#smau#f1#f1 smau#f1 fic#ollie bearman f2#ollie bearman f1#ollie bearman prema
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Where is my lestappen kart dads au
Kimi and Ollie gokart and are like rivals and are quite popular for being track terrors but off track they are actually best friends
On the other hand their respective dads…are off track terrors like the stewards and coaches get tired of them complaining and they have this tension and when they had a parents kart racing event the inchident happens
And maybe Kimi and ollie do parent trap and forces their dads to get along….
…ends up as step siblings in the process lmao
#lestappen#kart dads au#someone write this for me please#charles leclerc#cl16#max verstappen#mv33#fanfic au#plot bunny strikes#ollie bearman#kimi antonelli#ob38#wanted to add doriane pin but that’s clear that she’s Lewis daughter#but she’s making an appearance to win#and dominate the boys
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Our Sweet Remedy
Gale x Fem!Tav [AFAB, she/her]
Rating: Explicit [18+ MDNI]
Word count: 2.8k
Request: 69 or DP with Gale by anon!
Warnings: Smut (oral [f and m receiving, face fucking, cum swallowing], Gale’s projection double participates [PiV], double penetration, fingering), dirty talk, Dom!Gale (and he is condescending lmao, but no degradation), after care, safe and consensual check ins. Changing POV (Tav then Gale).
Notes: there is so little plot here I don’t know what to say. No beta reader, only Ao can judge me. Also idk if it’s mirror image Gale uses for his projection? Sorry if that that is not lore accurate.
My Ao3
Tav felt she may have to sit down and chat with Gale about his inability to just lay back and receive every once in a while.
It was post-exam season, and her overachieving fiance, had just spent many days cooped up in the study grading and reading final assignments. But it was finally over and they were celebrating the completion of his first full term as a professor at Blackstaff. A night out so neither of them had to cook and a bottle of wine to end the evening.
With Gale wrapped up in his work, it had been up to Tav to arrange everything. Her plans for the night had so far gone exactly as they ought to, they made it to their reservation for dinner, the walk to and from the tower had been exactly on time and when they got through the door he was amenable to being ordered upstairs.
This was where the plan went awry. She had meant to get on her knees, and give him some well-deserved admiration. Gale, however, after what felt like weeks of being drowned in work and only seeing glimpses of his betrothed was feeling clingy and needy.
Instead of having his cock in her mouth from her knees, she was draped alongside him on the bed. His hands roamed over her sides, taking in each curve, grabbing onto flesh when she did something he particularly liked. The groans and murmured praises spurred her on, happy to be able to please him and offer him some reprieve.
His fingers trailed her thighs, nudging them apart. She allowed it, for the moment, a pleased yet shocked squeal leaving her when he ran through the seam of her, dipping his fingers inside of her when he found her wet.
She pulled off him to lift her head, and remind him she was doing something for him for once when she caught him bringing his fingers into his mouth. Rendered momentarily speechless, body pulsing with a renewed need, Tav licked her lips.
“Humor me?” He asked.
“This — hey!” She felt him grabbing her thighs, attempting to pull her onto his body. “Gale, tonight is supposed to be about you.”
“Believe me, my love,” he said, not giving up his intent so Tav had to acquiesce, “this is for me.”
Another pulse of excitement coursed through her. Not meaning to be outdone, Tav at least acknowledged that this gave her better access to his cock. Her body now settled over his, with her thighs bracketing his sides as he leaned against the headboard with her presented for him as he grabbed at her ass. She worked him into her mouth with renewed vigor, not letting up even when he began his usual maddening work on her with his tongue.
For a while she was too lost to the sensation of him groaning above her to truly acknowledge how worked up she was getting. When she took him further into her mouth, as far as she could, he sucked hard on her clit with a moan and she felt her entire body go rigid.
There was something incredibly enticing about feeling so much pleasure while he was buried in her throat. She pulled up for air and not one to be outdone, Gale went in more fervently.
She was quickly rising to her climax, and she was losing focus. Pumping him in her hand with his head in her mouth, she kept being distracted by the sensations.
“You’re distracting me,” she whined.
No response, just more incessant working of her that made her want to give up entirely on the task at hand and languish in his talents.
Her own hands wrapped around his hips, to grab at his ass and pull him further into her mouth so he would get the message. He hesitated, gently thrust and when she moaned he allowed himself shallow jerky movements. A half-formed groan escaped him and his grip grew tighter on her thighs.
Tav’s mind went blissfully blank, truly degenerate moans came out around the slight muffle of him thrusting in and out of her mouth and then something snapped.
It was hard to tell if Gale gave the hard thrust into her throat or if she pushed herself down onto him, but it hardly mattered. Mouth full of him, her toes curled, her legs shook and her hips had to be held firmly to keep from jolting and moving from the sensation of his mouth.
After it passed she took him out of her mouth to laugh, a bit delirious at what had just happened.
“Alright, my love?”
He sounded strained, and she could see why. His cock was rigid, pulsing slightly and she knew he was close. She hummed an affirmative and without distraction went back to work on rewarding her wizard for a successful first term not thinking much more of the turn of events.
Gale couldn’t forget it.
Perhaps it was that he had not considered how much time he was buried in work and now being able to reemerge he found himself constantly thinking about Tav’s reaction the other night. They went from enjoying each other's company as often as possible to intermittently due to his new work schedule to not at all during the exam season.
But regardless of it being a matter of being pent up or not. He was catching himself thinking about her reaction in the middle of benign conversations, eyes drifting to her mouth and wondering just what her expression had been when she came with his cock in her throat.
Blindly feeling it had been near enough to throw him over the edge. He had to see it.
They had discussed trying things with his ability to conjure a mostly tangible mirror image before. The idea had come to him after the topic of Halsin wanting to be an add on to their partnership while on the road had come up. It had been born of insecurity, a need to be more in order to keep her by his side , but after his concerns were put to rest the idea remained.
It remained on a loop, actually. The idea of filling her so completely that all she could feel was him.
When she climbed in his lap in the study a couple days later, as eager to make up for their time apart as he was, he decided he had to see if he could bring the fantasy to life.
Tav gasped when she felt the somewhat cool touch of the mirror image’s hand on her back. She looked over her shoulder, and the projection smiled at her. Naked and ready already, but not making any other move to touch Tav.
“Hello there,” she said and then turned back to Gale. “We finally giving this a go?”
“Only if you want to,” he said, cupping her face. “Say the word and he will be gone.”
Tav kissed him, and then bit her lip with a cheeky smile. “How do you two want me?”
Gale felt a blazing trail of excitement crawl up his spine, blood rushing. “Naked. On your hand and knees.” He added a gentlemanly, “please,” for good measure.
“Yes, saer,” she teased and crawled out of his lap to strip herself of her clothes and do as she was asked.
For a while he just watched as she took in the sensations of the spectral presence lavishing her in attention. There was a thrill in being able to see his hands grab at the flesh of her ass, to see himself squeeze her thighs and generally admire her body from his seat on the settee. A unique pleasure in watching but still knowing it was all him that made her whine impatiently, and when he allowed the projection to finally touch her she eased into it.
“How does it feel, my love?”
The projection slid fingers through her folds, not quite giving her clit the attention it needed.
“Ever the scholar,” she mused and then moaned as a spectral finger circled her entrance. “Feels good, a bit like the mage hand, honestly.”
Gale hummed.
“Off,” she half demanded tugging down at the hem of his shirt.
“Always so impatient,” he chuckled, removing his shirt anyway.
“And you’re always a tease,” she shot back. One of her hands came up to tug at his waistband this time. “These next.”
“Demanding, as well,” he replied, yet he moved to acquiesce. He sat down in front of her, still on the settee while his mirror image continued to rub and tease, purposely not touching where she truly wanted him to. His hand came to her cheek, “I’d very much like to preoccupy your mouth with something besides bossing me around. How do you tell me to stop?”
“Two taps,” she demonstrated on his thigh for good measure.
There was a challenge in her eyes, one that spurred him on. The urge to take very deep despite his constant reign on himself. Perhaps a hold over from his time dealing with the orb, but if there was one thing Tav was good at it was tempting him.
He pushed his thumb into her mouth, and she sucked on it before opening her mouth to make a show of running her tongue along the pad of his finger.
“The other night,” he said, eyebrows furrowing in sharp focus at the point where his finger met her tongue, “you took me so deeply when you came. Did you like it?”
She hummed an affirmative, her mouth coming off his hand to say, “I loved it.” Her hand reached for the base of his cock, bringing it towards her mouth.
He moved his hand into her hair, gripping tight enough to keep her head from moving any further. Behind her his double stopped immediately. A frozen moment of disbelief crossed over her face.
“Ask me.”
She breathed a half laugh, but the way she licked her lips betrayed her interest in his demand.
“May I have your cock in my mouth?”
“Ask me, nicely.”
A shudder overtook her. “Please, Gale, can I have your cock in my mouth?”
“You may,” he replied with a smile, hand coming out of her hair to allow her to move.
The first lick was teasing, but with every attention she paid to him the projection behind her rewarded her anew. Gale took the time to sit back and enjoy, her clever mouth working him at her own leisure and each soft noise of pleasure while she did made his jaw clench.
When the presence behind her slipped two fingers inside of her, he felt her stiffen and her mouth froze on him. She tried to get back to her task but each stroke of the fingers inside of her seemed to draw her away until she was just sitting there moaning with his cock in her mouth.
“That’s it,” Gale muttered. “Hold me in your mouth, my love, can you do that?”
A gentle nod was her reply and the projection behind her went to work. Gale’s breathing picked up, self-control hanging on by a fraying thread as he simply watched. Pre-cum dribbled out of him and the resulting squeal she gave before running her tongue over the tip of him had him questioning why he was waiting.
Tav’s first orgasm approached, and he watched with fond understanding of exactly how it would go. The rush of sudden impatience as her hips thrust back onto the fingers inside of her, the little noises she would make and the crinkled brow of focus as she let herself hone in on the rising sensation. Beautiful as usual.
“Gale,” she breathed, “I’m going to —“
“Ask.”
Her eyes shot open, meeting his, a new sort of awe struck intrigue perhaps at the commanding tone. “Please,” she said, tongue laving over the tip of him, “please let me come.”
“Open for me,” he said, hand coming back into her hair. When she did as he asked he gently guided her back onto him, “hold me here. Keep me right here while you fall apart.”
The projection was unrelenting, and Gale could hardly keep his hips steady with each little whine that came from Tav’s lips. Enraptured by the view, he was lost when her jaw went a bit slack, tongue pressed against the head of his cock in a last attempt to pleasure him as she tipped over the edge.
The final thread of self-control frayed; the projection of himself quickly readjusted so that the same time Gale thrust into her mouth its cock was also sinking into her heat.
Tav squealed in surprise around both intrusions, and Gale grit his teeth to stave off further thrusting in order to give her the chance to tap out. His lovely Tav simply looked up at him, corners of her lips turned up in a challenging smile even with her mouth full.
The desire to make her as mindless as he felt overtook and in unison both cocks began to thrust. Praise was all he could find himself to speak.
“Yes, my love, yes,” he whispered, “look at you, full of me.” He sucked in a sharp breath when she whined, the sensation causing a sweet vibration. “So beautiful, so good,” he breathed, “with such an eager mouth — and a dripping cunt for me.”
Her eyes blinked, slightly watery with a sharper thrust that he felt gag her slightly. But yet unwaveringly full of awe, full of admiration and devotion. Proof she was loving every second of this as much as him.
The projection pressed over her back, arm coming around to touch her clit in reward. A slightly manic sound left her, desperate and shocked. He knew she was probably still sensitive, he barely gave her time to recover from the last orgasm before he began the double ended onslaught of sensation. Her walls had probably still been fluttering around the slightly spectral intrusion of his double’s cock.
He swallowed hard. He almost wanted to take himself out of her mouth to hear her describe the feeling, but it would be too great a loss he decided. The unending string of muffled moans were enough of an indication for him.
At a particularly harsh thrust from his double he was knocked from her mouth, her head lolling and eyes closing. She was losing her focus.
“Keep my cock in your mouth, Tav,” he commanded, the projection ceasing all movement. Hips and hands stilling mid movement.
“Trying,” she whimpered. “Feels too good —“
Gale tightened the grip in her hair, guiding her back to where he wanted her, his hips thrusting steadily with a groan. “I’ve got you,” he muttered, “stay there.”
The projection started its onslaught again, with renewed gasps and choked off whimpers from Tav starting anew. He was steadily approaching the precipice, but unwilling to venture over until he saw for himself what it looked like to have her truly debauched.
The visage of him behind her was unrelenting, and he could see her beginning to reach that peak. Her eyes gave away the desperation she felt, and when he finally gave her permission he watched first her body begin to slouch unable to keep herself up as her knees slid further apart and her hips twitch.
Tav’s eyes went blissfully blank before they rolled back slightly, his thrusts into her mouth a bit easier as her jaw went slack.
“That's it, Tav,” he breathed. “Gods, you’re perfection.”
Without being able to look away he felt the control finally slip away. His hips thrust up in harsh long strokes that made her gag as he felt himself seize up with the release. It was met with sucking as Tav eased him through it.
Behind her the projection had faded with his lack of concentration. He took a few moments to admire her, lips swollen, glistening with saliva and breathing heavy.
“Come here,” he pulled her up off of the floor, and settled her on his lap. He kissed her sweaty forehead, her cheek and then finally her lips. “Alright?”
She nodded her head.
“I need to hear you say it, Tav.”
“I’m fine,” she assured him. “Let’s stay like this, though, a little longer.”
His hands rubbed over her back, lips pressed to the crown of her head as they caught their breath. The glow of satiation still thrummed through his veins as he focused on the feel of her in his arms. Gratitude bloomed in his chest at her ability to make him feel safe enough to explore his desire to take for once, for trusting him.
“You’re filthy, Gale,” she giggled after a while, still looking a bit dazed.
“You’re one to talk,” he challenged.
“It wasn’t a complaint,” she assured him, letting herself nestle her face into the crook of his neck. “We are definitely doing that again.”
Thank you for reading 💜
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do you hate me? — euronymous x mean girl!reader
Maybe Euronymous liked you more than he should.
warnings: beating nazis i guess (you'll understand). mostly fluff as always.
this is a fanfic for RORY CULKIN ONLY. i don't even know the real story of mayhem really, i just watched the movie and to be honest i didn't even like it so....... idk sorry, i am in my rory culkin era and i will make it everyone's problem.
The first time Euronymous saw you, you were not in a good mood.
Well, it was difficult to ever see you in a good mood. You came from a not so loving family, so you learned how to defend yourself from a very young age. It’s not like you chose it, you just learned that there were two types of people in the world: the ones who fight, and the ones who get hurt. It was about survival, so you did what you had to do, you built your walls and they were fucking strong.
Some people would be surprised. Euronymous was. You didn’t look very threatening, that was a fact. You liked pink, you loved makeup, you had a sweet smile. It's why he felt so confused when he first saw you walking inside his record store.
Your hair was tied in a bun, your earrings were golden, the pink shirt you were wearing ended just above your stomach, showing off your belly piercing. Your boot-cut jeans and high heels completed your look. You were definitely not fitting in. All the other people in the store were either wearing all black clothes or something dark with a weird band logo in it.
A couple boys tried to scare you as soon as you stepped in, yelling “Hail Satan!” right at your face.
Euronymous smirked, wondering how long it would take for you to realize that you walked in the wrong store.
But you weren't scared. In fact, you stared at the two boys in complete silence. For a moment, they laughed, but soon their smiles began to fade out. Something about your look, your presence and even the way you chewed your gum was fucking scary.
“The fuck you lookin’ at?”, you asked angrily and the two boys just looked away, too afraid to say anything else. “Fuckin’ assholes”, you whispered to yourself as you walked to the balcony, where Euronymous was still staring at you, but this time with surprise.
You stopped right in front of him. The look on your face was serious, and he felt the urge to say something that would make your face twist in disgust. After all, it was his favorite thing to do.
“You sure you’re in the right place, cupcake?”, he jokes.
You just ignored his question.
“Listen, I need a dark fucking mindblowing death metal album or some shit like that, what do you have?”
“This is fucking Helvete. Everything here is metal”, he laughed and leaned on the balcony.
You sighed and rolled your eyes. “Okay, mister… whatever the fuck your name is…”
“Euronymous”, he added. “My name is Euronymous.”
You felt his friends around looking at you.
“Of course it is…”, you continued, feeling impatient to leave that place. “Look, I have a brother who’s into this…”, you gestured with your hands to the records around. “...type of shit and tomorrow is his birthday. I don’t know if your brain is rational enough to notice, but this is really not my thing, so I’m gonna need some help, okay?”, you gave him a sarcastic smile.
Euronymous liked it. The attitude, the way you were not threatened by anyone there at all. Shit, he even liked the lip gloss in your lips and he was far away from being a lip gloss admirer.
And he had no idea why he liked it.
“Alright”, he nodded, not taking his eyes away from you for even a second. “So, is he really into it or is he a poser?”
You had no idea what he was talking about. “You’re asking me if he’s a satanic freak who wants to burn down churches and eat priests for breakfast?”
“Wow, she’s fast”, he said with a smile and his friends laughed.
“Yes, he is.”
“Alright”, he said, disappearing behind the balcony to grab something.
He knew exactly what you needed. That is, if your friend was not a poser, of course. He grabbed his own band’s record and showed it to you.
You stared at the record and looked back at him. “Okay…”
“It’s my band.”
“This is weird”, you whispered to yourself and the guy in front of you gave you a smirk. “Whatever, how much for it?”
“If you give me your number, it’s for free.”
“That’s not happening, but I appreciate your trying.”
You paid for it as you watched one of his weird friends putting the record in a plastic bag. Euronymous made sure to take it from his friend's hand to give it to you himself and when you grabbed the bag, you felt his fingers touching your hand.
"Freak", you whispered to yourself and he laughed as you turned away to leave.
Euronymous wouldn't say it out loud but he even found himself thinking of you after that.
The second time he saw you, you were beating the shit out of a boy outside of a bar. The boy was on the ground already wrapped up in a ball.
"Fuckin' nazi!", you yelled as you kicked the guy on the stomach one last time.
Later, he found out that you were very good at beating the shit out of nazis.
As soon as you noticed Euronymous watching you sent him a deadly look. Euronymous would even be scared if he wasn't… well, himself. That was one thing you had in common, you two were not easily threatened.
"What do you want?", you asked.
"Nothing", he shrugged and grabbed a cigarette from his pocket, putting it between his lips.
He turned away for a second but soon he turned back to you, removing the cigarette from his lips and putting it back in his pocket. You stared at him curious to what he had to say and he thought to himself if he should really say it.
But you only live once, right?
"Can I buy you a drink?"
Euronymous felt nervous as he watched you thinking about it.
But it was only a drink, right?
So to his relief, you also shrugged and nodded.
You two walked in the bar and he did buy you not one, but two, three, four drinks. You found yourself laughing at one of his jokes at some point and you wondered if it was the alcohol or if you were actually enjoying his presence.
"So, why did you move here?", he asked with a smile. "I mean, it's not like this is a dream city."
"Well, I like it here", you said. "And also the rent is cheap."
He laughed, but didn't say anything. Then you realized he wasn't satisfied with your answer. He wanted to know why.
"I ran away", you answered honestly.
"What did you run away from?"
Maybe if it was anyone else, this would be the perfect moment for you to push them away like you always did. But it wasn't anyone, it was him. And you enjoyed talking to him.
"My family. I ran away from my family."
Euronymous nodded, knowing that there was a line that he couldn't cross yet. Of course, he could ask more. He wanted to, but more than that, he wanted you to do that by yourself.
"I get it", he said.
"Of course you do."
Euronymous looked at you, so you explained. "Look at you, all angry at the world."
"My family is pretty nice, actually."
This time you were the one feeling surprised.
"Really? So you're a family guy?", you asked. "Then why do you act like you hate everyone?"
He thought about it for a second.
"I can still hate everyone except for my family", he gave you a smirk.
You smiled. Maybe it was the alcohol or maybe it was the fact that he had those big beautiful blue eyes, but you were mesmerized by how pretty he was.
"Do you hate me?", you whispered as you got closer to his face.
Euronymous stared at your lips. You were so different from him and he, for some reason, was loving it.
"No…", he whispered back.
He didn’t kiss you that night. You turned away before he could do that, distracted by a song playing in the background. You stood up from your chair and offered him your hand, asking him to dance with you. Euronymous hated that song and if it was anyone else asking him to dance, he would immediately decline and leave. But it wasn't anyone, it was you.
So he danced with you. The first minutes he had a frown on his face, but it faded away as soon as he saw you almost tripping on your own feet. He tried to hide his laugh as he held your waist, but you knew he was enjoying this more than he wanted to assume.
Soon, you two were dancing to songs that he swore to never dance to. Euronymous knew that if any of his friends saw him like that, they would probably lose all the respect they had towards him. But then again, he asked himself if he even cared.
And the truth was that he didn’t. He didn't care about anything else other than you at that moment.
#rory culkin x y/n#rory culkin#rory culkin x reader#culkin brothers#scream 4#charlie walker x y/n#charlie walker x reader#charlie walker#lords of chaos#in my rory culkin era#rory culkin fanfic#rory culkin lords of chaos#jack goes home#jack thurlow#jack thurlow x reader#ollie sway#ollie sway x reader#writers on tumblr#writer#writing#female writers
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pairing: ollie bearman x reader
genre: fluff!!!
Happy 18th to Ollie dear!
Ollie sat on the couch, his eyes fixed on his girlfriend, you, who was sitting across from him on the floor. You were engrossed in a book, your hair falling in soft waves around your face. He couldn't help but stare at you, completely enamoured by your beauty.
He felt a deep sense of love for you, and he couldn't stop his heart from beating faster every time he looked at you. He watched as you turned a page, your eyes scanning the words on the page. Your lips were slightly parted, and Ollie couldn't help but wonder what you were thinking.
He shifted slightly on the couch, his gaze still fixed on you. He had never felt this way before, so in love with someone that it almost hurt. He knew that he wanted to make you happy and to be there for you no matter what.
As he watched you, he noticed the way you bit your lip when you were concentrating, the way your eyes would dart back and forth across the page. He loved the way you looked when you were lost in thought, completely unaware of the world around you.
You looked up from your book, your eyes meeting Ollie's. He could see the love and warmth in your tender gaze, and he felt his heart swell with emotion.
"Hey," you said, setting your book down and standing up. "What are you looking at?"
Ollie stood up too, taking your hand in his. "I'm just looking at you," he said, a smile spreading across his face.
You blushed, your cheeks turning a soft pink. "What's on your mind?" you asked, a hint of curiosity in your voice.
Ollie took a deep breath, feeling the weight of his emotions. "I just can't believe how lucky I am to have you," he said, his voice full of love. "I love you so much."
You soon found yourself leaning in to kiss Ollie. It was a sweet, tender kiss, full of all the love and warmth you shared. Ollie wrapped his arms around you, holding you close. He knew that he was in too deep, but he didn't care. He wanted to stay in this moment forever, holding you close and feeling the warmth of your love.
As Ollie and you kissed, he felt a wave of tenderness and passion wash over him. He wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you close and deepening the kiss. He could feel the supple texture of your lips against his, the heat of your body pressed against his own.
Every inch of his being was consumed with the intensity of the moment, as if nothing else in the world mattered. The soft sound of your breathing filled his ears, as he lost himself in the depths of your love. Ollie ran his fingers through your hair, relishing in the sensation of its silky strands.
The kiss was electric, sparking an intense connection between the two of you. Every brush of your lips sent a shiver down his spine, making his heart race with a wild abandon. He knew that he was in too deep, but he didn't care. All he wanted was to stay in this moment forever, wrapped up in your arms and lost in your love.
As the kiss finally came to an end, Ollie pulled away, gazing into your eyes with a tender intensity. He could feel the warmth of your love radiating from within you, filling him with a sense of profound belonging.
"You're everything to me," he said, his voice thick with emotion.
"I love you, Ollie," you replied, your own voice full of love.
You held each other close, knowing that you were in too deep, but also knowing that you wouldn't want it any other way.
#ollie bearman fanfic#ollie bearman x you#ollie bearman imagine#ollie bearman x reader#ollie bearman#f2 fic#f2 x reader#f2 fanfic#f2 writing#f2 imagine#ollie bearman oneshot#ollie bearman scenario
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Adoption?
general masterlist | Freefall: A Series
inspired by Ollie's rookie debut and him attaching himself to Charles for that race weekend
"I want to adopt him."
"Mon amour, we can't just adopt an 18 year old who's father is actively in the garage," Charles tries to explain, although I will officially take none of that.
"Ollie!" The poor kid jumps upon hearing my voice, not expecting to be acknowledged during this little downtime. He smiles, though, regardless of the scare, and makes his way over to Carlo, Charles, and me.
"Hi Ms.Earnhardt," Oh he's adorable.
But it doesn't stop me from crossing my arms, standing with a pose of disappointment. "Ollie, we've talked about this last season. You don't need to call me Ms.Earnhardt, Lynnleigh or Lynn is good enough."
He's blushing now, brightly nodding along. "Right, yes, Lynnleigh. And hi Charles, Carlos, glad to see you're out of the hospital!"
Oh he's so sweet.
"Ollie, can I ask you a question?"
"Mon amour, no-"
Charles gets no time to finish his thought, because I know it'll just be him trying to stop me. "Can Charlie and I adopt you?"
And here comes the look of shock on the two men and the boy's face.
"Can you- what?" Ollie isn't the only person to pause, Carlos' thick brows raising in question while the Ferrari crew around us slow, giving me the look of an animal in a zoo.
Peculiar and entertaining.
"Can Charlie and I adopt you?" I repeat, smiling brightly as Charles pulls me under his arm, shaking his head as his hand clamps down over my mouth.
"I'm sorry about her, it's the American in her."
Ollie just laughs awkwardly at his dismissal, "Uh, I mean I do have parents."
Moments like these, I curse Charlie's strength because it genuinely does make removing his hand from my mouth more difficult, no matter how much I adore his strong arms wrapped around me.
But I manage, his arm dropping to rest around my waist and link with his other hand on my hip.
"Ollie," I start, making sure my voice is soft and mellow. "I don't mean for us to legally adopt you, kiddo. I mean like, can we be your paddock parents?"
"So- you don't want to adopt me adopt me, just like, actually no, I'm still confused. What's happening?"
"In exchange for one hug every race, I will bring you snacks and keep you entertained if you get bored. And Charlie will mentor you."
"When did I offer this?" Charles's question is whispered in my ear, not out of refusal but instead of confusion.
He gets a kiss in return, no answer, and just nods, accepting this consolation.
Glancing back to Ollie, he looks excited and my heart jumps.
"So I get to keep my parents and have an extra pair for race weekends?" Oh this is so going where I want it to.
"Exactly!" I exclaim, tapping Charles's chest and getting an oomph. "See! He gets it!"
"Yes, yes, mon ange excité (my excitable angel), I can see he is understanding your crazy." Cue another tap to his stupidly toned chest.
"Ignore Charles, he doesn't get it," I dismiss, the young boy chuckling brightly, curls bouncing as he nods.
"I think I'd enjoy this," The teen agrees, putting his hand out to shake my own while Carlos guffaws at what he's seeing. "You're got yourself a deal!"
I can't help the cheer the slips out as I shake his hand, quickly turning around to look up to Charles. "Charlie, we've acquired our first grid kid!"
Kissing my lips, he can't help the smile that takes over seeing how happy this makes not only me, but the rookie who had been vibrating with nerves over his rookie debut. "Would you look at that."
It's then that Ollie's father walks by, the teen seeing him and getting even more joyful.
He's pulling us into a group hug before I can even process what's happening before running away, following his father.
"Dad! I have new paddock parents!"
"Vous êtes adorable (you're adorable)."
"I don't know what you're saying, but I love you too."
#the writing of spencer rose#original character#formula 1 fanfiction#formula 1#charles leclerc x oc#earnhardt oc#nascar#ollie bearman#charles leclerc fanfic#carlos sainz
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major props to oliver for not trying a little harder to get with elspeth. i know i would and they’d probably kick me out of saltburn for it. like i don’t need the cock, felix, i need your mom !!!
#saltburn#saltburn 2023#oliver quick#elspeth catton#felix catton#i am not writing elspeth x oliver fanfiction#i repeat#i am not writing a fanfic about them#at all.#it is not currently 683 words#it doesn’t exist why the fuck would i write elspeth x ollie fics#shh
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Berdusk, the Jewel of the Vale, a Harper stronghold—just another city on the caravan route.
Wherein: The Gate crew try to teach Olly some life lessons; Nora decides how much danger she truly wants in her life; it's a strange feeling to be young in a world that wants you to grow up as soon as possible.
aka Dust gets way too deep into D&D lore research, and writes a YA romance
I feel like I need to preface that this is very different from most of my other explicit work, so if you're here looking for smut, you will be disappointed. The characters are of age, but young—in their late teens/early 20s. The raciest thing that happens is a kiss. Be forewarned!
p.s. this is Olly, in case you forgot :)
photo credit @captainsigge
somewhere I have never travelled
Fandom: Baldur's Gate 3, Forgotten Realms (D&D)
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Relationships: Olly (Baldur's Gate)/Original Female Character
Additional Tags: Zhentarim (Dungeons & Dragons), Mistaken Identity, Young Love, Drunken Kissing
Read on AO3 (3190 words)
#bg3 olly#protect olly at all costs#rugan is in it but blink and you'll miss him#my ocs#bg3 fanfic#forgotten realms#my writing#dustdeepsea fic: somewhere I have never travelled
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UNHOLY FUCK Ghesties!
THIS IS IT! The final chapter of Death and Flowers is coming at you!!!
I hope you all enjoy it!!!! Our poor Copia and Ollie have been through so much. Will they have a happily ever after?
Commissions are OPEN, please see pinned post for Carrd info!
*Special thank you to @gothdaddyissues for the banners*-hit me up ghestie I owe you a fic or something for using these.
Death & Flowers
It hadn’t been serious, it never was with him. While Papa was suave and Ollie enjoyed their time together it wasn’t meant to be. She knew it wasn’t something meant to last…something permanent but—here she was. It was only one missed pill and life forever changed.
Chapter 14: Long May He Reign
Also available HERE on AO3! Haven’t started yet? Start from the beginning HERE!
Definitely NSFW below the cut!
They didn't bother to wait for the rest of the ghouls. Copia, along with Alpha, Omega, and Aether began working their way to Saltarian’s office. The Cardinal, having finally put all the pieces together. He was angry at himself for being so blind—the answers were right there in front of him the whole time.
“Tell us Cardinal, who is responsible for this?” Aether asked, watching as the anger inside both Omega and Alpha grew. Threatening to billow out of them like Hell fire—consuming anything and everything in their path.
“It is those men–the League. Maybe Saltarian, I think he has been assembling them to overthrow the Ministry. The Emeritus family and the ghouls are just casualties in their pursuit of it.
“Then… then why weren't they after you?” Aether asked, knowing the truth of Copia’s parentage. It would have puzzled Copia too, had he not overheard the conversation between Sister and Saltarian from before. Now he knew exactly why he was overlooked, despite his heritage.
“The man has a soft spot for Sister… I am her son and from what I have learned, I was never supposed to know Nihil was my father. Blissful ignorance meant to keep me safe in favor of her. But now that has all changed.”
“This is fucking insane; how did they think they were going to keep everything in line without the support of the ghouls. Like it or not, we are essential for the connection and power from the Dark One himself.” Alpha snarled, as they walked, trying his best not to go running off on his own to fight them. The ghouls, confused and betrayed by all they thought they knew.
“I am sure the plan was to have some of you become fodder for those hungry to condemn someone for the Emeritus family deaths, but I can only assume they never meant to imply that all of you were involved. I am certain now that this is why you were framed. Blamed for Primo, Secondo, and Terzo’s deaths.”
“How do you know?” Omega asked.
“The scent. I don’t have senses the way you do, but I have recently come into contact with the same smell Aether described. It was overwhelming on Bishop Martin… it has to be them.
A few hours before…
Saltarian sat at his desk, head in his hands as he waited for the California Ministry to contact him. Hoping to have Copia set up to stay there for the majority of his time of touring. He wondered if he would be able to continue on as planned. His love for Elizabeth had already cost him so much and now with her carelessness, she threatened to undo everything he had worked so hard to orchestrate.
He could hear it from down the hall as they approached. The sounds of footfalls on the tile, made with a sense of haste. Then as expected and without a knock, Bishops Mauro, Henry, and Martin came charging into his office. The looks on their faces telling him this was no casual visit.
“What is it?” he asked them.
“We have a problem.” Bishop Mauro began, looking at the other two to see who might be next to speak.
“What problem?” he asked, rubbing his eyes. Allowing his pen to fall to his desk, and the room to grow quiet before he looked up at them.
“We have learned some very disturbing news, your excellency.” Martin continued.
“Seems our dear sweet Cardinal is not the father of Sister Olive’s child.” Henry smirked, a glint of evil in his eye. One that had far surpassed anything Saltarian had ever seen. The news was powerful, yet not a complete surprise to him. The most interesting part was the thought that Copia knew and still claimed the child as his own. Saltarian, now wondering if the Cardinal and Sister Imperator had conspired against him this whole time.
“He’s also Nihil’s son… a fact you seemed to be aware of, yet we are just now hearing of it. Is this true Mr. Saltarian?” Bishop Mauro asked, watching for a crack in Saltarian’s resolve. He was angered to the core—maddened. He had tried to do right by Sister Imperator. Hiding her bastard son from the eyes of those he answered to—those who also wanted the end of the Emeritus family. Only to have the bloodline kept alive and well in his child. Sure, that it was Sister Imperator who outed him as knowing the secret.
“I see... that conniving bitch. That is preposterous.” he hissed under his breath. “You know what you need to do.” he nodded to the bishops. The men, acknowledging him as they set course to eliminate them all—Nihil, Copia, Olive and the child.
Present time
Copia rounded the corner and ran straight into Bishop Martin, he was covered in blood. Unabashed by walking around in broad daylight. His smug smile, sending a chill down Copia’s spine.
“What have you done!” Copia yelled, the crest of his knuckles bashing into the bishop’s jawline as he threw the first punch. Sending a cascade of blood from Martin’s mouth to the floor. The ghouls standing behind them, growling and tails snapping in the air like whips.
“You really are a fool.” Martin laughed, his face already beginning to swell from Copia’s right hook.
“Whose blood is this? If you don't tell me what is going on, I will let them devour you whole, you figlio di puttana!”
“All this energy over your dead brother's whore?” Martin chuckled. Leaving bloody fingerprints behind on Copia’s cassock as he tried to hold him back from another hit.
“I’ll fucking kill you.” Omega roared, Aether and Alpha holding him down so that Copia may get answers before Omega went and tore him to shreds.
“Oh Satanas Ollie.” Copia choked, his stomach sinking as the words left him. Scared that the blood may be hers.
“Relax Cardinal, you precious whore is fine. Though not for long. This blood… belongs to your old man.” he grinned, as Copia dropped his body to the ground. Running behind him into Nihil’s office. Only to find the old man dead in his chair–throat slit and blood decorating the walls.
“Oh fuck.” Aether said, as he and Alpha followed him into the room. Omega, still in the hall. Sinking his teeth into the bishop's carotid before his body went completely limp in the ghoul's arms.
“He’s gone.” was all Copia could say, quickly setting course back into the hall where he found Omega hovering over the bishop. Barely clutching onto his mortal coil.
“She’s next.” he said, choking on his own blood. The ghouls and Copia, realizing instantly what he meant.
“We need to get to Ollie and Luss now!” Alpha growled, taking off full force alongside Copia and Aether as Omega finished off Martin.
As they made it back to Copia’s Papal suites, there was an eerie quiet. The door cracked open and no sign of Ollie or Cumulus to be seen. Copia and the ghouls carefully crept inside. Searching for them, until finally they could hear the sound of glass breaking from within the bedroom.
As they ran inside, they saw them. Two men, in shining silver ghouls' masks, holding Ollie and Cumulus captive. Knives to their throats and the two of them struggling against their captor’s grips. Cumulus, doing her best to try and bite them, while Ollie cried. Her hands, never leaving her belly.
“Ollie! Cumulus!” Copia cried, attempting to run for them before watching the men adjust their blades. Stopping the Cardinal in his tracks as the ghouls continued forward.
“Take those off! You can’t fool us you motherfuckers.” Alpha hissed, watching as the men removed the masks. Revealing themselves to be Bishop Mauro and Henry. Copia’s suspicions had been confirmed. It was the League who was responsible for the deaths of his brothers—and his father.
“Step any closer and we will slit their throats.” Bishop Henry told them. Pressing the blade against Ollie’s neck. A string of blood, beading up along the cut as she cried out.
“Copia!”
“It’s alright amore.” Copia called out, the bishops laughing at his weak promises. Amused with his idea he had any control, knowing they held Ollie and Cumulus within millimeters of death.
“We will tear you apart before you do anything to them!” Omega roared, looking into Cumulus’s eyes. Doing her best to remain calm as her life lay in the balance. Never showing her fear to them as they continued on.
“Please you all are nothing but rabid animals. No sense or reason. You’re disposable. There are millions more like you awaiting summoning. None of them will ever know better.” Mauro smiled. The three ghouls standing their ground, teeth bared and tails swishing. Ready to pounce if they only are given the chance.
“Let Ollie and Cumulus go, take me instead. They have done nothing to you. It’s me you want. I am Nihil’s son.” Copia begged, trying his best to inch closer to them without setting them off.
“There’s just one thing…a tiny… little… thing.” Henry said. Slowly brushing back the hair from off Ollie’s shoulder. Trembling in his grasp. “This is a problem.” he said as his free hand traveled down from her shoulder and over her chest, finally settling over the swell of her belly.
“Don’t you fucking touch her.” Copia said, his teeth gritted and his rage boiling over. Bloodthirsty and ready to end them.
“It’s nothing personal, Cardinal. The Ministry is just done with Emeritus. Sorry you got caught in the mix. Then again, you all are nothing but fools.” Mauro hissed. The tension was unbearable. Every second lingering as they stared each other down. Copia and the ghouls helpless but to watch until somehow, they could find a way in.
Suddenly from the shadows, a figure appeared. Pushing past the men and bringing himself front and center. Positioning himself between them. Announcing himself as the man of the hour, the one who held all control—Mr. Saltarian.
“Not yet Henry…” he said, stopping things from moving forward until he had his final say. Wanting to draw out Copia’s torment for as long as humanly possible. Relish, in his agony as he watched his lover and child slowly be murdered in front of his eyes.
“Ti sei rincoglionito?!” Copia growled, his white eye—blazing with fury. Chest heaving and ready to kill Saltarian where he stood.
“You know, I had a mind once to consider you a son. After all I have known you since your whore of a mother carried you.” Saltarian began, smirking at him as he crossed his arms. Lifting up a condescending brow and snickering to himself.
“You are nothing—” Copia began before Saltarian cut him off.
“I am everything… I have done everything. You know the whole reason this order, the League, was founded was to get rid of them. I may never have been able to become Papa myself, but I could have still had control. If your mother hadn’t been stupid enough to tell you about Nihil.”
“Don’t you dare…” Copia began.
“I did EVERYTHING FOR HER!” Saltarian yelled back, turning around to rip away the knife from Bishop Henry. Pressing it into the side of Ollie’s belly, just hard enough to draw blood. The blood, staining her dress as she cried out.
“Ah!”
“Please don’t hurt her!” Copia pleaded, ready to give his life for her. The ghouls snapping and snarling behind him. Waiting for an opportune moment to strike. Dying to taste the blood of the men on their tongues and pick their flesh from their teeth.
“This is your fault Copia. Had you never been born she might have been mine. Not attached to that old bastard for so long. Even then I would have given you the Papacy to please her. Getting rid of Nihil so you could start anew with me pulling the strings—but now since she managed to ruin it all helping you and helped to protect this pathetic Emeritus whelp…” Saltarian said as he raised up the knife, “...I guess I’ll have to kill you all and take the miter myself!”
Saltarian threw Ollie to the ground and lunged towards Copia. The blade, barely missing his chest and digging into his shoulder. Copia groaned as he pulled it out, him and Saltarian struggling to take hold of it. Copia’s blood painting the floor, slick and red.
The ghouls took their opportunity in the confusion. The bishop’s had grown comfortable, letting down their guard when Cumulus thrusted her elbow backwards into Mauro. Knocking him back onto the floor. The ghouls and ghoulette, flooding over him and ripping him apart with their bare teeth and sharp claws. Bishop Henry panting as he tried to take off. Aether, jumping over his gorging brethren to snatch him.
The ghoul’s claws sunk deep into the flesh of the bishop’s back as he screamed. Blood curdling and powerful as he fell to the ground. Ollie, still laying on the floor, cradling her belly in her arms as she watched in horror at the scene. The ghouls devouring the Bishops and Saltarian and Copia fighting to the death.
The ruckus in the Papal suite had alerted others, crowds of siblings and other clergy members spilling in from the halls. All too shocked and afraid to make a move. Worried that their involvement would seal the wrong person’s fate. Watching as Copia and Saltarian continued to scuffle. The knife dancing between them, always a split hair away from stabbing one or the other.
Ollie pulled herself up, grateful to a pair of sisters who came to collect her. Surrounded by pieces of what once was the bishops. Covered in theirs and her lover’s blood. Catching Copia’s eyes for a brief moment, her tears once again began to shed. Wondering to herself if this was the last time, he would ever look at her.
Seeing Ollie was all he needed. The thought of never seeing her again, never holding her again, gave him strength beyond measure. Toppling Saltarian to the ground and hovering over him. Knife raised high as he was ready to strike.
“You know it's far from over. I am not the only one who wanted the power of the Ministry to be their own.” Saltarian said, spitting up at Copia.
“Your vitriol nature has done nothing for you. How does it feel to know his son bested you after all.” Copia told him, gloating at the idea. Saltarian made one last stitch effort to get the blade. Punching Copia in the gut as he tried to take it from him. The two men, rolling on the ground over one another–until suddenly they stopped.
The two of them, looking down to see the blade piercing into Saltarian’s heart. Immediately he began choking. Feeling his death approaching. Every beat of his heart, bringing him closer as he began to bleed out from the inside.
“This baby will be born, and the Emeritus bloodline will continue…and one day Saltarian, he will become Papa…” Copia began, watching the light starting to fade in Saltarian’s eyes.
“No…” Saltarian shuddered as Copia pushed the knife in deeper. Twisting it as he spoke, “And long may he reign!”
Epilogue
A Few Years Later…
As the lights died down on the stage at the last of the Los Angeles shows, Copia remained bowed. His heart pounding in his chest and the thrill of the crowd cheering “Papa” echoing throughout the arena. Never did he imagine his life would be like this. Admired by all and revered by the Ministry.
It had been so long since his humbler beginnings. The night of his true rise to power was long behind him. Followed swiftly by the sweet embrace of Fatherhood not long after. Becoming Papa, despite it all, in the in between.
Now that he had been in charge for some time, Copia decided that after the Imperatour he would step down. If there was one thing Saltarian got right—was that new blood was needed in the Ministry. Terzo's son—his son, would one day rise to power and until then Copia wanted the Ministry to be helmed by someone else. Copia, knowing he had done all he could there after working to reform things.
He had worked hard to bring down all those who co-conspired in the deaths of his father and brothers. His mother was forced to step down from her position within the church. Toured for years with Ghost, and helped to foster a new wave of worthy siblings of sin and respectful members of the Clergy. Knowing that now was the time for someone else to lead.
He and Ollie had never been better, raising their little boy to the best of their ability while on the road. Never leaving each other’s side, even now. No longer haunted by the ghosts of the past as they worked to create their own family. A life, a love, something special just for them.
As he exited the stage, he caught sight of them. The two things he cared about more than anything else, his sweet Ollie and little Giovanni were standing there waiting for him backstage. Juice boxes, held in his pair of small hands as Giovanni went running up to his daddy. Copia, hoisting him up in the air and squeezing him tight in his arms. Ollie, following right behind him, a smile spread wide across her face.
“That was incredible.” Ollie cheered, coming to plant a kiss on Copia’s smeared painted cheek.
“I should say so, what do you think piccolo? Did daddy do a good job?” he asked Giovanni.
“I loved it!” his son cheered, throwing his arms around Copia. Juice spraying in the air and all over the back of his father’s vestments. Ollie, quickly coming to help try and help clean it up.
“Gio, you need to be more careful.” she told him. Giving him a cheeky look before dapping away at the spill.
“It’s alright cara, I won't be needing them much longer anyways. You know very soon Gio, daddy and mommy are going to take you to the country. Spend some time in the quiet… I feel it's well earned. For all of us.” Copia chuckled, sending Ollie the sincerest of smiles. Ollie was overcome with emotion. So happy to have time to enjoy just each other. The nightmares of the past behind them. She was unable to help but kiss him. Relishing the feel of his lips against hers and the sounds of their son’s giggles as she hummed in contentment.
“That it is Papa—that it is.”
Notes:
figlio di puttana- son of a bitch
Piccolo- Little one
#Death & Flowers#Copia x Ollie#Copia#Cardinal Copia#Copia x sister of sin#Copia x OC Ollie#ren writes#ghost#the band ghost#ghost fic#ghost fanfic#ghost fanfics#ghost fanfiction#the band ghost fic#the band ghost fanfic#the band ghost fanfiction
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Each Sunday, post six sentences from a writing project — published, submitted, in progress, for your cat — whatever.
Unlike the previous year, they hadn’t spent New Year’s Eve all together; Sasha had somehow managed to convince Melanie to go see the fireworks with her, Tim and Gerry had gone off on some mysterious date of their own—the nature of which they still hadn’t disclosed to the others, and none of them had asked—and Jon and Martin had gone back to their flat and had a quiet night in. Actually, it had been pretty nice, listening to old records and dancing in the kitchen while they made dinner, and they had kissed right at midnight while the mayor’s fireworks exploded on the horizon. Martin hadn’t even had any nightmares that night, or so he said. For a moment, Jon had sincerely hoped, even believed, that the new year would mean a fresh start, that things would start getting better for them.
He still believed it, but he had also bowed to the inevitable and made a list of all the different “new years” marked by the different cultures around the world. Surely one of them would turn the page.
#sunday six#ollie writes fanfic#the project that tumblr enabled#jonathan sims#martin blackwood#jonmartin#the magnus archives
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YOU SUCK AT UNO - PADDOCK PASS, BABY [ PART THREE ]
in which y/n plays the part of best friend and professional gaslighter for the weekend (saudi arabia 24)
[ prev ] | [ next ] | [ notes ] | [ masterlist ]
y/nhamilton
liked by pierregasly, charles_leclerc, kimi.antonelli & others
y/nhamilton: death, taxes, and doriane (MY BESTIE IN THE WHOLE WIDE WORLD) winning races
tagged: lewishamilton, doriane_pin, georgerussel63
pinned
y/nhamilton: also, shoutout susie for being the best in the whole world and letting me sit in the car !!!!
-> username: susie supremacy
doriane_pin: i love you 🤍
-> y/nhamilton: love you more 💜
-> username: my roman empire i love this duo
-> username: my roman empire is how good these two could've been in the f1 academy together
-> username: OMG I NEVER REALIZED I NEEDED THAT
-> username: y/n doesn't race?
-> username: no, she started karting but apparently she was never insanely interested in it. so lewis told her she didn't have to do it anymore and they stopped
doriane_pin: THAT'S MY BEST FRIEND
-> y/nhamilton: stopppp, you got me blushing and shii
mercedesamgf1: woo go doriane!!!
f1: congrats doriane!!
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y/nhamilton
liked by alex_albon, carlossainz55, mercedesamgf1 & others
y/nhamilton: signing out from saudi arabia 💜
tagged: lewishamilton, ollibearman, charles_leclerc, pierregasly
pinned
y/nhamilton: also shoutout to ollie for absolutely crushing it!! pierre, you need to get better at uno asap. and @/carlossainz55 ⭐⭐
-> carlossainz55: 🌟🌟
olliebearman: thanks y/n!!
username: i love how the entire grid is just praising ollie this weekend
pierregasly: you play uno wrong
-> y/nhamilton: no. you're just bad
-> lewishamilton: i should've warned you about this
-> pierregasly: yeah you should've
-> username: all hail our gaslighting queen y/n hamilton
liked by y/nhamilton
charles_leclerc: where are my flowers?
-> lewishamilton: you're not my daughter
-> charles_leclerc: which means i didn't force you to wear clip on earrings after races when i was a kid. i think i deserve some flowers
-> y/nhamilton: seb your kid is trying to steal my dad again
-> username: i love everything about this
logansargeant: 🌴🌴
maxverstappen1: no podium picture?
-> y/nhamilton: no.
oscarpiastri: can i have my cap back?
-> y/nhamilton: tell lando to give me my bracelet back
-> landonorris: it's my bracelet now
-> y/nhamilton: noooooooooooo
-> oscarpiastri: i literally just wanted my hat back guys
-> username: poor oscar getting caught in the crossfire
f1: we'll be back in two weeks!!
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TAGLIST: @67-angelofthelordme-67 , @somepeoplemaybe , @nothaqks , @theforevermorereject , @thatonesblog , @deviltsunoda , @xoscar03 , @mess-is-my-aesthetic <3
send a message/comment/ask to be added to the taglist!
NOTE: third part out! if you guys want to see something that already happened in prev seasons, send in an ask/comment! don't forget to like + reblog <3
#naqia's au's!#naqia writes!#paddock pass baby! au#lewis hamilton#sir lewis hamilton#lewis hamilton!daughter#dad!lewis hamilton#formula 1#formula one racing#formula one#formula 1 x reader#formula 1 imagine#formula 1 fanfic#formula 1 x you#formula 1 smau#formula 1 social media au#formula 1 instagram au#lewis hamilton smau#lewis hamilton instagram au#doriane pin#susie wolff#carlos sainz#pierre gasly#ollie bearman#charles leclerc#oscar piastri#lando norris#mercedes amg f1
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pretty girls never light their own cigarettes
inspired by this post by @background-noise-headache <3
also on AO3
Dungeons and Dragons takes place in Steve Harrington’s dining room.
Eddie sits at the head of the table, though “sitting” may not be the most accurate term to use; he ends up almost standing in his chair, crouching as he reads dramatically, his voice shifting from rough and gravelly and low to high and squeaky and soft as he shifts between characters.
Steve occasionally pops in and out of the room, bringing the kids soda and juice and chips, bringing Eddie beer. Eddie tries his best not to gaze. Steve gives him the same kind of looks back. They always do that.
Eddie isn’t entirely sure what this is, this thing between them. But he doesn’t mind not knowing. It’s soft, and quiet, and slow in a way that nothing else in Eddie’s life has ever been. Patient, and kind.
They haven’t talk about it. They don’t really need to. Everything is wordless. It started when Eddie woke up in the hospital to find Steve asleep next to him, holding his hand, his head in Eddie’s lap. He’d waited for Steve to wake up, playing with his hair.
And it continued in the same silence. Little sneaking glances at each other while they hang out with the others, hooked fingers under tables, Eddie’s head resting on Steve’s shoulder during movie night, Steve’s hand on Eddie’s leg. Eddie hugging Steve’s arm as he drifts off.
Steve quietly putting ointment on Eddie’s wounds, and later, oil on his scars. Eddie doing the same for him. Them getting high together and Steve tracing the scars around Eddie’s neck, and Eddie reaching up to trace his. Falling asleep in Steve’s arms, to the sound of his heartbeat and the feeling of his fingers in Eddie’s curls. Waking up to the smell of coffee.
“Alright,” Eddie says after a while, shifting to collapse into his seat, sighing. “Break time.”
“Oh, good, I have to pee,” Lucas huffs, moving to stand.
“I figured, you’ve had like five sodas.”
“Three.”
“Whatever, man. I’m going for a smoke.”
“Gross,” Will says loudly as he’s stretching, taking off his wizard hat. Eddie sticks his tongue out at him.
It’s chilly out, just cold enough that in the light of the outdoor lights, against the darkness of the sky and woods, he can see his breath as he hops up onto the railing of the porch and pulls the carton of cigarettes out of his jacket pocket.
The door opens behind him as he’s lighting up, and he turns to find Steve stepping out.
“Hey.”
“Hi,” Eddie says around the cigarette, inhaling and watching Steve join him, leaning against the railing. “How you doing?”
“Fine,” Steve says, looking at him. Eddie moves so he’s straddling the railing, carefully balancing, so he’s facing Steve.
He watches as Steve lifts a cigarette to his lips, holding up a lighter, but he makes a small noise of protest, and Steve looks at him, pausing and raising an eyebrow.
Eddie sticks his cigarette back between his lips and moves closer, holding up his own lighter, flicking it, and he leans forward, holding the flame to Steve’s cigarette. The flame reflects in Steve’s glasses.
“Pretty girls never light their own cigarettes,” Eddie murmurs, focusing until he pulls the lighter away, his eyes raising to Steve’s, but Steve isn’t looking at him.
His eyes are blank, training on the ground below them, the cigarette hanging from his lips, and Eddie tilts his head.
“…Steve?” Steve blinks, his eyes flicking to meet Eddie’s, and for a moment Eddie thinks he’s going to cry. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” Steve mumbles around the cigarette before he seems to remember that it’s there, and he takes a long drag before pulling it away and blowing the smoke into the air. “Fine.”
“…You sure?” Eddie asks, studying him, the way his eyes are shining, the way he’s avoiding Eddie’s gaze, the way he’s smoking quietly, like he’s trying to hide in plain sight. “Steve,” he says softly. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”
“I just…”
Eddie moves closer, holding his cigarette between his lips, until he can touch Steve’s forearm that’s resting on the railing.
“What happened?” Eddie asks softly after exhaling the smoke. “Should I not say stuff like that?”
Steve swallows, staring at the ground, his lips pursed like he’s trying not to cry before he takes a soft breath.
“I don’t… want you to not say it,” he says so quietly Eddie’s almost straining to hear him. “I want you to mean it.”
Eddie blinks in confusion.
“Mean it?”
Steve takes another drag, looking at Eddie as he exhales slowly before he starts to speak again nervously, but he can’t get any words out before there’s a bang behind them. They both startle and turn around to find Dustin sliding the door open.
“Dude, we’re ready to go,” he says to Eddie. “Come on.”
“I’ll be there in a minute,” Eddie dismisses, shooing him, and Dustin rolls his eyes, shutting the door again before he walks away. Eddie watches him go, waits until he can’t see out the door, then looks back at Steve.
Who looks like he might start crying. He’s looking at the burning end of his cigarette, watching the smoke drift into the air and disappear. His hands are shaking.
“Stevie,” Eddie says gently, touching his arm again and leaning close, concern bundling in his chest. “What’s going on?”
Steve bites his lip so hard it goes pale before he looks back at Eddie, his eyes shining.
“Can we…” He glances at the door. “Can we talk about this later?”
“Yeah,” Eddie says softly, brushing his thumb back and forth over Steve’s skin. It’s warm. “Yeah, of course.” Steve nods, looking ahead again, lifting the cigarette to his lips. “I’m gonna go in. We can hang out after all the kids go home, okay?”
“Yeah,” Steve breathes.
Eddie stubs out his cigarette on the railing, leans over Steve’s arms to flick it into the ashtray, and then he pauses, looking at Steve’s face.
Then he’s leaning in and pressing his lips to his temple softly, leaving a tentative kiss on him. When he pulls away, Steve is almost smiling, his face softer, and he tilts his head a little bit, turning his cheek up to Eddie, so Eddie leans in and kisses him again.
He’s wanted to do that for a long time.
“Okay?” Eddie says quietly, almost whispering. Steve nods.
“Okay.”
It takes ages for the kids to leave. (Though kids is generous; they’re all pushing nineteen.) Lucas drove himself, Erica, and Dustin, and Will drove himself and Mike, and when Eddie says he’s staying behind because he drank, Will very kindly offers to take him home.
Eddie denies the offer gently. He has a soft spot for the kid, who seems to see the way Eddie glances up at Steve as he’s cleaning up with the others, and doesn’t offer again. (He does also seem a bit relieved. Eddie would be lying if he said he didn’t see the way Will and Mike look at each other. The way Mike puts his arm across Will’s shoulders as they head to the car. The way Will smiles at him with sparkling eyes.)
Eddie helps Steve clean up after the kids leave, after Lucas calls back a soft thank you to Steve for letting them take over the dining room. He rinses soda and beer cans in the sink and Steve collects them before dumping them in the recycling bin across the kitchen in silence.
“Living room?” Eddie asks when they’re done, drying his hands.
“Uh, yeah. Sure.”
Steve take a deep breath, visibly anxious, and Eddie’s chest aches.
He watches Steve curls up on the sofa like he’s trying to hide himself from Eddie, who sits close but not too close.
“So.”
“So,” Steve repeats quietly, looking at the ground.
“Hey,” Eddie says softly, leaning closer, and Steve’s eyes cut up to him shyly. “You don’t… You don’t have to talk about it. Whatever it is, it’s okay.”
“No, I wanna tell you, I just…” Steve takes a breath, looking back at the floor. “I don’t know… how to say it.”
“‘S okay,” Eddie says.
Steve swallows thickly, tilting his head back and blinking hard.
“I told myself I was never gonna tell anyone,” he says, his voice wobbling, and Eddie frowns. “I was just gonna… leave it all tangled in my chest until I died.”
“Steve…” Eddie breathes. He swallows. “That doesn’t sound very healthy.”
Steve cracks a smile.
“Yeah. I know.”
Eddie gazes at him for a few more moments.
“Do you want me to— to hold your hand? While you tell me?”
“Yes, please,” Steve says, his voice breathless, and he finally unwraps himself, holding a hand out to Eddie, who takes it gently with both of his. He rubs the back of it gently, looking down and looking at the soft lines of his veins beneath his skin, at his knuckles, at the faint scar near his thumb. Without thinking, he lifts it to his lips and kisses his skin gently.
“Talk to me, Stevie.”
Steve takes a shaky breath, his hand tightening on Eddie’s.
“When you… When you said that thing about— When you called me a pretty girl,” Steve stutters brokenly, his voice trembling. Eddie squeezes his hand. Rubs his thumb over the back of it. “I— I really liked it.”
Oh.
Eddie tilts his head, moving closer.
“Steve, if it, like, turned you on, that’s—”
“It didn’t—“ Steve interrupts weakly, his cheeks pink. “It didn’t… just turn me on.”
“…Okay,” Eddie says softly. “Tell me.”
Steve take a sharp breath, squeezing his eyes shut, and his hand is shaking so badly Eddie clutches it to himself.
“Stevie, it’s okay.”
“You can’t tell anyone,” Steve says abruptly, looking at Eddie with wide, tear-filled eyes.
“Never.” One of his hands releases Steve’s, and he’s reaching up to Steve’s cheek, holding him gently. “Whatever this is, it’s just us, okay?”
“Promise?” Steve gasps, a tear falling form his eye, and Eddie wipes it away tenderly.
“I swear to you, Stevie,” he says softly. “It’s just us.”
“Okay.”
He closes his eyes, taking an unsteady breath.
“It’s okay,” Eddie whispers, kissing his hand again.
“Sometimes I…” Steve starts quietly. He’s kind of facing Eddie now, his legs drawn to his chest and leaning in Eddies direction. His other hand is picking at a fold of his sweatpants, still trembling. “Sometimes I don’t… feel like I’m…”
He trails off, his eyes trained on the ground, and he looks like he’s spacing out, his eyes glazing over slightly. Eddie squeezes his hand, letting go of his face to turn over his hand and hold it tightly, almost massaging his palm.
“Like you’re what?” he prompts when Steve doesn’t finish his sentence after a minute. Steve inhales.
“Entirely… a guy?”
Eddie blinks, still squeezing his hand.
“Okay,” he says. “Can you explain that for me?”
Steve squeezes his eyes shut, shrugging weakly.
“‘S just…” He opens his eyes, wiping away a tear and squeezing Eddie’s hand. “When I was little,” he says after clearing his throat, still avoiding Eddie’s eyes. “I didn’t really, like… realise there was a different between boys and girls. I just didn’t get it.”
Eddie listens intently, rubbing Steve’s hand to keep him steady, to keep him present.
“There was one year, that my—“ He cuts off to swallow, and he shifts before continuing, his voice soft. “My dad went away for a while. And my mom didn’t really give a shit about me, so she let me grow my hair out. And one day I was helping her at a store, and an employee told me that I… I was a good daughter for helping my mom.”
He pauses, and Eddie tilts his head. Steve pulls at his hand, tugging him closer and moving so he’s holding onto Eddie’s forearm. His other hand is picking at his lip, and Eddie reaches out and gently pulls it away before he can make himself bleed.
“I didn’t correct her,” Steve continues. “Because it didn’t— It didn’t feel wrong, it— it felt like it fit.”
Eddie nods, twisting his hand to hold Steve’s forearm, squeezing gently.
“But it doesn’t— It doesn’t fit more than when someone calls me dude or anything, like— They both make sense to me.”
“Okay,” Eddie says softly. Steve glances at him.
“But sometimes I— I feel more, like… Jesus, I don’t know. Girly?” His cheeks flush with colour, and he drops his head back. “I don’t know.”
“Okay,” Eddie says again, rubbing his arm soothingly.
“Sometimes I…” Steve squeezes his eyes shut, his lip quivering, and Eddie moves closer, his chest aching.
“Hey,” he whispers, squeezing his arm. “Steve, it’s okay.”
“It’s not okay, Eddie,” Steve says, and he’s actually crying now, tears falling down his cheeks, and Eddie hates this.
“It is,” he says gently, moving closer and wrapping an arm around Steve’s shoulders, pulling him close. Steve collapses against him, his shoulders shaking. “Stevie, I’m not judging you or anything, okay? Just talk to me, sweetheart.”
He wants to smack himself for the pet name, but Steve doesn’t seem to even notice it.
“Sometimes,” Steve starts again, his voice quiet. “Sometimes I feel like I am a girl.” He doesn’t lift his head, still leaning against Eddie, who rests his cheek on Steve’s head. “Just… In the wrong body.”
“You’re not in the wrong body, Stevie,” Eddie says. “If you’re a girl, you have a girl’s body.”
Steve is quiet for a moment before he says, “Why are you acting like this is all fine?” He sits up, looking at Eddie with tears-filled eyes. “This isn’t fine, Eddie, I’m— I’m fucking weird.”
“Steve,” Eddie says firmly. He softens when a tear escapes Steve’s eye, and he reaches up to wipe it away, his thumb slipping under his glasses. “You’re not weird. And even if you were, Stevie, do you know who I am?” Steve finally cracks a smile, scoffing. “Why would I have a problem with weird?”
Steve shrugs weakly.
“Also you’re not the only one,” Eddie says softly, touching his hair. It’s soft. Steve looks at him almost sceptically, wiping his cheek. “I used to go to a lot of queer bars and clubs and stuff in Indy,” Eddie explains. “There were lots of people like you.”
“Really?” Steve breathes.
“Yeah,” Eddie says softly, smiling. “I’ll take you sometime.”
“…Okay.”
“So you said you feel like both?” Eddie says, shifting to lean against the back of the sofa, his fingers still playing with the ends of Steve’s hair.
“Yeah.” Steve sniffs, wiping his face again. “I don’t mind being called a guy, or when people use like… You know, dude and man and stuff. It feels right, but when that lady thought I was a girl, it… felt right too.”
“What can I do?” Eddie asks. “To make you feel good about it?”
Steve shrugs again, looking down.
“I don’t know. When we’re alone, I guess you could…”
He shrugs again, shaking his head.
“What if I called you things?” Eddie suggests gently. “I could tell you how pretty you are.”
Steve’s cheeks flush and he half-smiles, almost glaring at Eddie.
“Don’t joke,” he says quietly.
“I’m not,” Eddie says, offended, moving closer, his hand sliding to hold Steve’s neck. “You’re beautiful, Stevie.”
Steve’s eyes drift, shining behind his glasses, and he inhales.
“…I like it when you call me that.”
“Stevie?”
“Yeah. It feels… Prettier.”
Eddie beams, pressing his fingers into his hair and combing through it.
“What else can I call you?”
“I don’t know,” Steve says, shifting to face Eddie, still holding Eddie’s hand. “You pick.”
Eddie hums softly, glancing at Steve’s lips. (He briefly wonders if Steve would ever wear lipgloss.)
“Princess.”
Steve’s cheeks turn pink, and he suppresses a smile.
“Yeah?” Eddie asks gleefully, grinning, and Steve’s cheeks darken. He looks away.
“Feel like I shouldn’t like that.”
“Hey.” Eddie tugs his hand. “No rules.“ He tugs again, prompting Steve to look up at him before he speaks again, softer. “This is just us, Stevie.”
Steve looks back at him, and Eddie can practically see the moment it sets in. That he’s safe here. That he’s free.
“I like it.”
Eddie smiles.
“What about, like, when we go to a queer place?” Eddie asks, moving to lift a leg onto the sofa between them, leaning against the back of it again. “If I introduce you to people, how should I refer to you?”
“What do you mean?” Steve asks quietly, his brows furrowed.
“…He, she?”
Steve blinks, and Eddie sees something settle behind his eyes.
“I’ve never thought about that.”
Eddie waits while Steve thinks, playing with his hair.
“I think he,” he says quietly. “She feels… I don’t know. Maybe I’m just not used to it,” he says, looking into Eddie’s eyes. “I don’t know.”
“We can try it out,” Eddie tells him. “When we go. We can just… experiment. See what you like, what’s comfortable.”
“Okay,” Steve says, smiling, his eyes flicking across Eddie’s face. “You called me sweetheart earlier. I liked that.”
“Yeah?” Steve nods. “What else can I call you?”
Steve shrugs, shifting closer.
“What do you wanna call me?”
“A lot of things,” Eddie confesses, blushing.
“Like what?” Steve asks, smiling excitedly, shifting where he sits, almost bouncing on the sofa, and Eddie’s heart almost explodes.
“Honey,” Eddie says softly, his hand running down Steve’s neck. “Darling. Baby.”
Steve’s eyes darken and flick down Eddie’s face again, and he exhales.
“My love,” Eddie says quietly after a few moments of silence. Steve’s eyes widen. “Is that one okay?”
Steve’s lips part, and his eyes are trained on Eddie’s mouth, and he’s quiet for a few seconds, just staring before he says softly, “Only if you mean it.”
“I mean it,” Eddie breathes.
Steve takes a breath, and then his tongue is slipping across his lip.
“I wanna try something.”
“Okay.”
Steve takes another breath, exhaling slowly, and he releases Eddie’s hand, carefully reaching up to his face, and Eddie thinks he might be dying. Steve’s fingers are warm, pressing into Eddie’s skin and holding his chin gently.
Slowly, Steve leans in, and Eddie’s eyes fall shut, his free hand finding Steve’s leg.
After a few seconds, Steve’s lips find Eddie’s, and the world falls away from around them, and Eddie’s eyes squeeze shut, and he never wants this moment to end.
His lips part to kiss back, but Steve’s teeth just close on his lower lip, tugging Eddie closer with it, and Eddie smiles, his hand sliding to Steve’s hip and squeezing. Steve moves closer, and his other hand finds Eddie’s cheek as he sucks on his lip gently, shifting closer.
Eddie gasps when they part, his hand untangling from Steve’s hair and finding Steve’s cheek, but he bumps the frames of his glasses, and Steve laughs breathlessly.
“Can I take these off?” Eddie whispers.
“Yeah.”
Eddie reaches up and carefully takes them, tilting his head to make sure he doesn’t tug the backs of his ears, and Steve smiles fondly as he waits. Eddie turns away to fold them and place them on the coffee table before he looks back at Steve, whose eyes are shining as they struggle to focus.
“Can you kiss me please?” Steve whispers, and Eddie grins so brightly it almost hurts.
He takes Steve’s face between his hands, leaning in and kissing him tenderly, warmth flooding through his body when Steve buries his hands in Eddie’s hair. Eddie shivers when he tugs, and he shivers again when a soft sound escapes Steve.
Without pulling away, Steve sits up, kneeling next to Eddie before he’s swinging a leg over Eddie’s legs and settling in his lap. Eddie wraps his arms around Steve’s middle, holding him to himself tightly and furrowing his brows when Steve’s tongue slips across Eddie’s lip.
Steve tugs his hair again, pulling away just to gasp for air before he leans back in, kissing Eddie messily, almost careless in the way his lips slide across Eddie’s, in the way he licks into his mouth. He tastes like cigarettes and orange soda.
Eddie suppresses more shivers as he listens to the quiet, wet sounds of them kissing, to Steve’s soft breaths, as Steve’s fingertips trail down his throat lightly.
“Stevie,” Eddie gasps when they part to breathe, pressing his hands into the small of his back.
“Yeah, baby,” Steve says softly, breathing hard. Eddie squeezes his eyes shut, the pet name washing over him like sunlight.
“…Can you take this off?” he asks hesitantly, tugging at the back of Steve’s shirt and looking up at him. Steve just smiles and leans back, crossing his arms pulling his shirt up from the hem. He tosses it away when it’s off, giggling when he looks back down at Eddie, who’s staring up at him like he’s having a religious experience, like Steve is his saviour.
“What?” Steve whispers.
Eddie’s eyes are burning, and he reaches up to tug him down by the back of his neck, kissing him as tenderly as possible.
“You’re so beautiful, babygirl.”
Steve blushes, and his eyes widen, and he exhales.
“Oh, I like that,” he says softly.
“Yeah?”
Steve just nods breathlessly, and Eddie kisses him again. He pulls away to press soft kisses across his cheek and over his jaw before he’s sucking kisses into his neck, his hands sliding over his back.
Steve exhales, his head falling back as Eddie kisses over his throat, and his hands find Eddie’s shoulders, holding him gently.
Eddie nibbles at his skin softly, listening as Steve hums quietly, and he smiles against his skin, leaning small bites down his neck until he’s kissing the moles on his shoulders and collarbones, connecting them like constellations with his lips.
Steve pushes his fingers into Eddie’s hair when he starts to kiss his chest, and Eddie smiles again. Steve’s chest hair is tickling his face, and he’s heavy on Eddie’s lap, and he’s playing with Eddie’s hair, and Eddie thinks he might cry, blissfully surrounded by StevieStevieStevieStevieStevie.
He runs his hands over Steve’s back, over his waist and hips and chest, until his fingers brush over his nipples, and Steve lets out a sharp breath.
“Is that okay?” Eddie whispers, looking up at him. His cheeks are red, and his eyes are closed, he releases his lip from between his teeth to speak.
“Yes.”
Eddie does it again, traces circles around them and gazes up at Steve, who bites his lip again, sighing and letting his head fall back again.
Eddie smiles softly. He leans in and presses his lips to Steve’s chest, just over his heart, before he shifts, leaning to swipe his tongue over one side, and Steve’s hand clenches in his hair. He pushes his chest toward Eddie with a soft noise, and Eddie grins, licking over it again as he reaches up to the other side.
Steve sighs, looking down at Eddie and smiling lazily when their eyes meet. Eddie sucks lightly, watching Steve’s eyes flutter shut, and Steve’s fingers run through his hair before he just holds him, almost cradling the back of his head and sliding his other hand over Eddie’s forearm.
Eddie pulls away after a moment, taking a breath and switching sides, and Steve giggles quietly, pulling his hair back and watching him. They’re both hard. But neither of them are in any rush to do anything about it.
Eddie lifts his head after another moment, kissing up Steve’s chest, kissing the hallow of his throat, his Adam’s apple, the underside of his chin. Steve is smiling the whole time, his face relaxed and soft and almost blissful.
“Christ,” Eddie breathes, running his hands over Steve’s chest and stomach and waist, squeezing a the softness of his flesh, holding him tightly. Touching the scars that cover his sides, the scars that match Eddie’s own. “You’re fucking angelic, baby.”
Steve huffs out a soft laugh, pressing his hands to Eddie’s face before he holds his chin lightly, his thumb pressing to Eddie’s bottom lip. His eyes are dark, almost half shut, and he brushes his thumb over Eddie’s lip, smiling when Eddie presses a quick kiss to it.
“Thank you,” he says quietly.
“What for?” Eddie matches his volume, almost whispering. Steve shrugs weakly. Eddie presses his hand against the small of his back, running over the arch of it.
“Being so nice to me.”
Eddie blinks, tugging at his back so he falls against him a bit.
“You don’t have to thank me for that, princess,” he says softly, squeezing his waist. “Kindness comes with love.”
Steve just stares back at him, and after a moment, his eyes are glistening, and his lip is trembling, and Eddie’s chest aches. Because he knows Steve has never gotten the kindness he deserves, because when he was a kid, love meant slamming doors and snapping leather belts and cold glares when he cried.
Steve looks away when a tear escapes his eye, reaching to wipe it away, but Eddie stops him, catching his hand gently and pulling at him so he looks back at him. Steve blinks at him, more tears falling down his cheeks, and Eddie touches his face, holding his jaw and leaning up to kiss his tears away. They’re salty on his lips, but Steve is sweet. So, so sweet.
“Sweet girl,” Eddie breathes, kissing Steve’s lips gently, and Steve pulls him closer, kissing him harder, burying his hands in Eddie’s curls again. Eddie knows Steve can taste his tears. There’s probably something poignant about that, Steve licking his own tears off Eddie’s lips, but Eddie’s head is too full of clouds to really place what it is that’s so poetic.
“Love you,” Steve exhales, his lips brushing Eddie’s, and Eddie breathes the words in.
“I love you too, baby,” he whispers, his eyes squeezing shut. “Jesus, I love you too.”
Steve wraps his arms around Eddie’s neck, and Eddie’s face presses into his bare shoulder as he hugs him back, his fingers dancing over his spine, over the softness above the waistband of his sweatpants. Steve’s lips find Eddie’s ear, and Eddie beams, tilting his head to give him space.
Steve traces the tip of his tongue over the scar on Eddie’s neck, and suddenly the world is crashing down around him. Eddie gasps for breath, his hands pressing against Steve’s back, his nails dragging across his skin as Eddie pants, his eyes screwing shut.
“Fuck, Stevie.”
“Is that okay?” Steve whispers. His breath is warm.
“Yeah, it feels good,” Eddie says breathlessly.
“Okay.”
Steve relaxes, resting on Eddie and pressing his face into his neck. Eddie thinks he might be about to fall asleep, but then Steve is pressing slow, wet kisses to his neck, and he’s biting him and sucking on his skin, and it almost hurts, but Eddie would rather walk into traffic than stop him.
Eddie falls against the back of the sofa, pulling Steve with him, and he bites his lip, exhaling shakily.
“Love you,” Steve breathes, kissing his neck again. “Love you so much.”
Eddie groans softly, reaching a hand up to Steve’s hair and pulling so he can kiss him.
“Love you too, babygirl,” he murmurs. “So fucking much.”
Steve whimpers, and Eddie knows he’s crying because he can hear his soft breaths, can feel them on his neck and can feel his tears sliding down his skin.
“It’s okay, Stevie,” he whispers, hugging him tightly, rocking forward and guiding Steve’s legs to wrap around his waist until Steve is clinging to him. “I got you, baby.”
“God, Eddie.”
“‘S okay.”
“‘S okay,” Steve repeats quietly, under his breath, pulling and resting his forehead on Eddie’s. Eddie reaches up to wipe away his tears. “Can you— Can you sleep in my bed tonight?”
“Yes,” Eddie says. “Yes, of course, I would love to.”
“Okay,” Steve says with a weak smile, leaning down to kiss him lazily. Eddie can still taste the salt of his tears.
“You wanna go to bed, sweetheart?”
Steve mumbles something unintelligible, his arms tightening around Eddie, and he buries his face in his neck. Eddie smiles, sighing, rubbing his back gently before he shifts, moving to the edge of the sofa, reaching to get Steve’s glasses, and he grips Steve’s legs as he stands. Steve lets out a quiet Mm, and his legs tighten around him.
“I got you,” Eddie murmurs, looking over Steve’s shoulder and making his way to the stairs.
“You’re so hot,” Steve mumbles. Eddie laughs lightly.
It’s dark upstairs, and the floor creaks under their weight as Eddie carries him to his room, grateful for the dim light of the downstairs hallway that sends a soft glow over the walls.
“Lay on top of me,” Steve says quietly when Eddie goes to set him down. “Please.”
“Let me turn off the lights, honey.”
“Okay.”
He sets the glasses on the bedside table, flicking the lamp on before he crosses the room to the light switch. When he turns back around, Steve is looking, watching him blearily.
“Can you take off your shirt?” Steve asks softly, shyly. Eddie grins and tugs his shirt off, tossing it to the hamper in the corner of the room. He misses. He doesn’t care.
Steve sighs heavily when Eddie crawls over him, tugging his blankets over himself and relaxing on top of Steve. Steve’s arms wrap around Eddie’s neck again, tracing the bumps of his spine, pushing into his hair.
Eddie hums, closing his eyes, relishing the feeling of Steve’s skin on his, the feeling of Steve’s heartbeat against his chest.
“I’ve never felt like this before,” Steve whispers after a moment.
“How do you feel, baby?” Eddie whispers back. Steve runs his fingers through his hair, through snags and tangles. Gentle.
“I feel…” He takes a deep breath. His chest presses to Eddie’s. “God, I feel like myself, Eddie. I’ve never felt like myself before.”
Eddie smiles, and sits up, hovering over Steve and looking at his face. He’s never seen this expression on Steve before. Soft and relaxed and sated. Fucking beautiful.
He leans down and kisses him gently, sucking on his lip briefly before he pulls away to whisper to him.
“You never have to hide yourself from me. Okay?” Steve’s eyes flutter open, shining in the soft golden light of the lamp. “Anything that makes you feel like you, or that you want me to do to make you feel like you, I… It’s all okay.”
“Okay,” Steve breathes.
“I’m in love with you,” Eddie says, his voice shaking. “Every fucking part of you.”
Steve swallows, giving him a wobbly smile.
“…Okay.”
“Okay.”
Eddie lays back down again, turn his head to kiss under Steve’s ear.
“Good night, my love.”
Steve’s arms tighten around Eddie, and Eddie grins.
#ive been wanting to write genderqueer steve for ages but didn't know how and this prompt hit me like a fucking freight train#good god#ollie you are a blessing#anyway i have many thoughts on gender#Obviously#also im open to more requests/prompts for steddie hit my inbox up or message me pls <3#i have a ficlet im planning for gq steve that i may write tomorrow we shall see#steddie#steddie fic#steve harrington#genderqueer steve harrington#eddie munson#steve harrington fanfic#eddie munson fanfic#stranger things#stranger things fanfic
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if i wrote a jake peralta reader fic would yall think i was weird.... would yall think i was off putting..... pookies....
#and yeah it would be a reader fic cause that's probably all i'd know how to write#cause listen i dont usually write fanfic#but for andy samberg i would consume hot lava#let me know cause i will do it#jake peralta#brooklyn 99#brooklyn nine nine#jake peralta x reader#that tag just sent a shiver down my spine#stfu ollie
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From Depths Unknown ; Part 3
Part 1 ⚜ Part 2 ⚜ Ao3
Rolan x F!Tav (AFAB, she/her) *Tav is a Storm Sorcerer, but no actual reference to her appearance.
Rating: E
Tags & Warnings: [18+ MDNI] Language, Canon-typical violence (there is a lot discussion of blood and injuries in this chapter), Major Character Death, Sexual Content (mostly just horny thoughts), background Bloodweave.
Chapter Summary:
Not even Moonrise Tower nor the Shadowcursed land had been this hectic. They dodged rains of incredible fire from dragons, psionic blast from nautiloids and falling debris from buildings crashing around them. Fighting their way through an army of cultists, mindflayers and intellectual devourers, her team felt as united as ever. Everyone felt the finality of it.
Notes: I wanted some whump, okay? I promise they will fuck eventually.
“Rolan? Really? I thought he hated your guts.”
“You haven’t seen him pining from afar?” Shadowheart asked dramatically.
“Honestly, Tav, he’s a decent bloke,” Wyll said. “A bit rough around the edges —“
“A bit?!” Karlach protested.
“Alright, quite rough around the edges,” Wyll amended.
“And pompous,” Shadowheart added.
“Completely up his own ass,” Karlach agreed.
“Alright!” Tav said, “I’ve told you all, nothing happened.”
Her and Rolan had been camp gossip from the moment they had walked into their suite; Tav had a hangover and a strong need for coffee, while Rolan was stiff with embarrassment at the questioning looks from her companions. He couldn’t stay long, but they had food and tea and coffee, which was the least she could offer him. She remembered most of the night: the crying, yelling and him having to arrange a makeshift bed for her. As it was embarrassing as it was, she felt a little better getting it all off of her chest. The details were fuzzy, but she knew she had come on to him. While nothing untoward had happened, the camp only saw their leader come through the doors looking bedraggled with an equally out of sorts tiefling wizard. Tongues had been sent wagging immediately.
“But you do fancy him, don’t you?” Karlach asked.
She took a deep breath. “Can we focus on the task at hand?”
“Only after you admit you want to shag the grumpy wizard,” Shadowheart teased.
“Fine, fine!” Tav felt like tearing out her hair. “Yes, yes I like him. Okay. Can we move on now?”
“Sheesh,” Karlach breathed. “Take him to bed, mate. You need it.”
She didn’t need Karlach to tell her that. She pushed on, ignoring them. Wyll, however, caught up quickly to her.
“I won’t lie to you, my friend, he hasn’t made the best impression,” he told her. “But he’s truly a good man.”
“I know that.”
“So, are you going to come clean about what happened on the roof then?” He was grinning, boyish and mischievous.
“Not you too, Wyll, please you were my last hope.”
Her only saving grace was that they found their way to an unusual engineer named Redhammer and his submersible, which happened to be the same culprit that had killed one the the priestesses of Umberlee. While she had half agreed to kill or hand him over if she found him, he offered an opportunity to find the hostage Gondians in the Iron Throne. Tav decided to take some inspiration from Astarion, using him to get down to the Iron Throne before she ultimately left his fate up to Umberlee's order. She thought she should have felt guilty, but he had been so casual about killing the priestess and transporting hostages she found herself lacking any real remorse. After the tadpole was out of her head, she thought she may have to reassess her moral compass.
After saving the Gondians, Duke Ravengaurd himself and their old friend Omeluum she was happy to be alive and not blown to bits at the bottom of the Chionthar. The priestesses of Umberlee had even rewarded them with a beautiful robe in exchange for finding Redhammer. Gale was the only other person it would have been suited for and he was too embarrassed to wear it despite the entire camp teasing him about it. It was a bit risqué, but when Tav slipped it on she felt it cling to her body and the strange fabric was so damn comfortable she felt as if it were a second skin. She quite liked it.
They made their way to Sorcerer’s Sundries, knowing the next day would be their chance to finish up the infiltration of the Steelwatch Foundry. Tav was sure Gortash would not bring the Steelwatch down on them right away. The last thing he needed was his army of metal titans tearing apart the city to find them, civilians would inevitably get hurt and then they would get angry. Gortash needed a city scared but ready to cling to a tyrant that could keep them safe, not ready to revolt for stepping on their children. They had to move, but she wanted to let him sweat and take time to get ready for their final push.
The foundry, the hammer, the last Netherstone. Then the brain. There was finally a light at the end of the tunnel.
Rolan was rarely in the shop these days. His mirror image had taken his position at the counter, helped along by the other specialists and Cal or Lia. Tav made her way upstairs; despite her pride she owed Rolan thanks for the night before and an apology for the teasing her friends had thrown his way in the wake of it. And she wondered if he’d like her new robes. It was silly, and pointless in the face of everything else that was going on but the desire was there, hiding behind her ‘noble’ reasons for disturbing him in the middle of the day. She made her way through the portal which led to the study Rolan was now using as his own office throughout the day. The blood, ash and bodies had all been cleared away — the decadent room was still in process of being redone to Rolan’s standards but it had come a long way since Lorroakan’s death.
“Rolan?” She called.
“A minute, please,” he replied from the balcony.
Tav rolled her eyes, muttering about wizards and their books. She strolled about the room. He seemed to be in the process of organizing tomes, one of the animated suits of armor was picking up a stack piled on the ground and taking it through another portal. She recalled him mentioning a library, and wanting to cultivate his own favorites for the study. It was his, now, after all.
“Please tell me you didn’t wear that into battle?”
When he had heard Tav’s voice carry through the study, he noted a lack of distinct irritation at being interrupted. Another sign that Tav was becoming worryingly exempt from his usual ‘prick-ish particularities’ as Cal had so kindly put it. He had just seen her that morning and as awkward as breakfast had been amongst her companions, he had to force himself to finish putting books on the shelf before heading down the stairs. He needed to retain some of his dignity, after all, despite his desire to eagerly stop everything he was doing at the sound of her voice. Tav waited for him below, and as usual, he took a mental note of any new injuries she may have acquired.
Robes with pieces of protective gear was what she normally wore. Soft leathers and sturdy cotton robes, with something to protect her vulnerable points. Even out of armor she usually only wore a simple tunic and cloth pants. His surprise to find her at the center of his study in an outfit that was all flesh and skin tight fabric made him stop in his tracks. The light blue ensemble clung to every curve, dipped low between her breasts (that damned pearl dangling at the center of her chest matched well with this new outfit, he noted), and was slit at the legs so all he saw was skin bared up to a concerning height on her thighs. Her worn leather boots stuck out, not quite fitting in with the sleek outfit, but that did nothing to preserve him from staring dumbly.
His momentary gawking was interrupted when he realized this scrap of fabric was meant to be armor. All the soft spots of her were exposed to cuts and bruises.
“Please tell me you didn’t wear that into battle?”
“You don’t like it?”
“That’s hardly the point I’m trying to make,” he said quickly.
“Then what is the point?”
“Don’t be stupid,” he said. “You can’t wear that in a fight. It’s…”
Ravishing. So easy to slide aside so I could have any part of you I wanted, he thought.
“Impractical.” He said aloud.
“And you decide what I wear now?”
“No,” he replied through grit teeth. “Of course not.”
“Well, I like it.” Tav shrugged him off, turning away and walking around to look at his progress in the study.
The dress was just as tight in the back, he noticed, his mind reeling and his pulse thrumming. “Where did you even get it?”
“It was a gift from the priestesses of Umberlee,” she said.
“And what, pray tell, did you do to earn it?”
“Freed some hostages in a prison at the bottom of the Chionthar and found the man who killed one of their order.” She listed casually. “Duke Ravenguard was down there, if you can believe it. And then Archduke Gortash, magnanimous man that he is, tried to blow us up,” her tone dripped with sarcasm, “it’s been quite a day.”
“Your usual heroics, then,” he grit out.
“Of course,” she grinned, and everything about the smile was a challenge, a tease, and he was certain he never wanted her so badly. “I know you love to hear about my gallantry. Not bad for a girl who started the day with a terrible hangover, I think.”
“Is there a point to your visit?” He asked tersely.
“Actually, yes,” she finally came up to him.
Close enough to touch. The fabric looked soft, and shimmery, probably pleasant enough to run his hands over but the exposed space between her breasts seemed particularly ripe for licking. His jaw clenched as he made the Herculean effort to look her in the eyes. The teasing look she had before was gone, something a little more bashful and sweet. It only made it harder to keep his hands to himself.
“I wanted to say thank you for last night.” She said, “I don’t remember all of it… but I know I was not at my best. Thanks for putting up with me, and sorry my friends are busybodies.”
Rolan didn’t know what to say. A whirlwind was inside him. Pure want and affection. Irritation at said want and affection. Irritation at himself for not being able to just say what he wanted to. This was all getting entirely out of hand.
“How is your arm?”
“My….arm?”
“You’re still scarred, from that ring you so foolishly put on when you had no idea what it did,” he snapped.
“Oh, that,” she deflated. “Fine. Just these marks,” she pushed back the sleeves of the robe to look at them. “Gale thinks it was some kind of connection to the elemental plane.” At his responding silence she shifted awkwardly. “Okay,” she drew out the word, “I’m going to go.”
“Goodbye.”
He stayed to watch her go, eyes glued to the way the robes clung to her bottom, the shift of the fabric and delicate metalwork over her exposed legs.
“You can’t wear that,” he blurted out. “Not in battle. You’ll be ripped to shreds.”
And so would the robe itself, which would be a terrible shame in and of itself, the more he thought about it.
“You said that already.”
“It bears repeating.”
She rolled her eyes. “Goodbye, Rolan.”
As she stepped through the portal and he was left alone he groaned, rubbing both hands over his face, as he muttered to himself, “you’re going to kill me you meddlesome, irritating, beautiful woman.”
While there had been little notice before the Netherbrain broke free and started unleashing terror on the city, Tav had at least warned her allies ahead of time that it could happen any day at any time. With Rolan’s permission, Counselor Florrick had spread the word that the tower was going to be one point of haven in the city. It had protections and wards, and plenty of space. When all hells broke loose, Cal and Lia were holding down the fort while he made his way to High Hall. Thankfully most of the fighting was happening in the upper city, but mind flayers were running rampant, the sky was red with fire, full of errant blasts from nautiloids and dragons.
He sent civilian healers as he found them to the tower, instructing them to take whoever they could with them. The high hall was crowded, Flaming Fists taking account of all the allies of Tav’s which had gathered. Many of them he recognized, some he had never seen before, but his heart swelled with pride at the gathering of people who were ready to support Tav and her friends.
When she came through the door with all her camp in tow, smattered in blood, as she always was, he thought she may cry at the showing. There wasn’t much time, but she took a moment to appraise them of her plan. Her entire party would take the main push to the brain, along with the illithid she had with her. There was no time to explain, she only assured them that this person — Orpheus, was on their side. She needed anyone she did not call to her side to focus on protecting the few points of refuge they had managed to secure in the city, and above all to keep as many civilians safe as possible. She was given means to summon her allies as needed.
As Tav made the quick effort to offer thanks to everyone individually, he felt the terror of it being the last time he saw her. This was not the Tav which he’d had drinks with at the Elfsong every night leading up to this battle, laughing with her friends, carefree for just a few hours. This was the woman who had lead four people to victory against a small army of Goblins, who stormed Moonrise towers and lifted the curse over Reithwin. Focused, determined and if she was scared it never once showed on her face. Only the storm dancing behind her eyes, calm before she exploded into action.
Rolan had to believe the next time he’d see her, she would be relaxed and teasing him about something over a glass of wine. As she approached him last, before heading out to save the city, he bolstered himself to be whatever she and the rest of the people of Baldur’s Gate needed.
“The tower is ready, you need only call.” He told her swiftly.
“Thank you.” She nodded. “Rolan, I — “ she bit her lip and clenched her eyes shut. “If I survive this —“
“You will,” he said certainly.
“If I do,” she repeated, eyes boring into his with earnesty he hardly knew how to deal with, “would you like to join me for a bottle of Arabellan Dry?”
“Are you asking me on a date? Right now?” As if to punctuate his point the ground shook, horrible screeching sounds and the roar of a dragon sounded out.
“Might be my last chance,” she breathed.
“It won’t be,” he insisted. If she was going to be bold enough to ask him out for a drink before running off to certain death — he had to rise to the challenge. He grabbed her hand, bringing it to his lips. “You’ll come back to me, gloriously and infuriatingly victorious.”
If he said it confidently enough it may just come true. It had worked for him before.
Tav nodded, squeezing his hand in hers. She hesitated, but there was little time for more to be said. She suddenly began to dig under the collar of her armored robes with her free hand. After fidgeting for a moment with something around her neck she held out the chain of the necklace which held her Pearl of Power.
“Can you hold onto it for me? I don’t want to lose it again.”
“You may need it,” he was unsure what else to say.
“Already used it today,” she said, “it’s just sentimental right now. And just — hold onto it. Please.”
Tav took his hand and placed the necklace into his palm, gently curling his fingers over it. It was such a small trinket, but the implications of her leaving it with him made it feel immeasurably valuable. He thought he would rather die than let it come to any harm. The dramatics of such a train of thought struck him so violently with the realization that he was undoubtedly in love. The terrible timing for such an epiphany was only emphasized by a loud boom on the roof and the shudder of dust and small bits of debris raining down on them.
Tav let go of his hand and with a determination in her eye he knew all too well, led her party out into the midst of terror with no other word.
There was no time to stop.
Not even Moonrise nor the Shadowcursed land had been this hectic. They dodged rains of incredible fire from dragons, psionic blast from nautiloids and falling debris from buildings crashing around them. Fighting their way through an army of cultists, mindflayers and intellectual devourers, her team felt as united as ever. Everyone felt the finality of it. She had seen Astarion and Gale share what they thought might possibly be their last kiss. Watching them felt like an intrusion, but the glance she had gotten of desperate softness in their eyes made her more determined than ever. Tav silently vowed that she would come out of this with everyone alive and ready to begin anew.
When they finally found the stalk of the Elderbrain it led higher and higher up over the city. She felt the adrenaline spurring her to start to climb, and she didn’t have to look behind her to know they followed. At the top it was an onslaught of psionic forces: the netherbrain, the illithids it commanded, and the tadpoles in their heads revolting at every move they made to fight against them. There were moments that blanked out, as she was stunned or her head hurt so badly she felt she couldn’t see. They were all moving on pure instinct to survive.
Karlach’s rage was an unstoppable force, Lae’zel cut down anyone in her path with brutal efficiency, and the only thing more intense than the amount of healing magic Shadowheart was expending was the force with which she brought down her mace. Jaheira and Halsin were in charge of summoning reinforcements as needed, controlling the battlefield with Druidic magic while Gale sent off spell after spell with devastating effect. Astarion and Wyll danced around the battlefield; Wyll’s combined magic and skill with the blade making him virtually untouchable while Astarion flitted in and out of visibility, daggers digging into flesh with deadly accuracy.
And she exploded with magic.
Her arm hurt, the flowing lines of whatever had touched her when she put on that ring in the tower glowed and raged as she gave everything she had. When she felt she had nothing left, it fed her new power, keeping a steady stream of lightning ready to strike. There was not a lot of time to think on this new development, only time to acknowledge that whatever it did to her, her magic was thriving on it. Her magic felt centered for the first time in her life. Controllable, not just something she was barely wrangling and flinging around blindly.
The last push to the crown was upon them. The way just needed to be cleared, she called to Halsin over the clamor of it all, tadpole transmitting to the others her plan. In truly rumbling cacophony explosions rained down, almost clearing their path. For a moment she took in the show of power from Ramazith’s Tower, but they had to bolt forward.
Lae’zel took the lead, attacking an illithid arcanist guarding the portal they needed to get into. Gale was quick behind her, magic missiles firing off in every direction and counterspell quickly cast afterwards. Karlach was keeping the way clear, as more illithid were summoned, hacking at tentacled heads until they rolled off. Tav took off for the portal, only to come face to face with her father.
No. It was her dream guardian. The Emperor’s trick.
When she had first seen the man in her dreams she had thought the same thing: he was just similar looking enough to her dear old dad to get her guard down but not so identical it would ring off alarm bells in her mind. Tav’s father was dead, after all, the Emperor had toed the line of familiarity on purpose. The single moment of hesitation was enough for the guardian to blast her with psionic energy, knocking her off of her feet. An intellect devourer took its chance and leapt onto her. Searing pain spread through her abdomen as claws dug in and tore. It was climbing up her body, ripping skin with every step. Her arm was pinned underneath one of its horrid legs, unable to cast, and she felt the thunderous pulse in her chest, the tingle of electricity in her veins — and then a dagger came down stopping the devourer in its tracks.
Astarion was above her, kicking the thing off of her. With a cry she felt the claws slip loose, blood pouring out of the wounds. The pain slipped away to the back of her mind as she flung forward, hands outstretched when a chain of lightning erupted at another dream guardian which tried to stop Gale. Astarion helped her to her feet, shoving a meager healing potion at her. It was not enough to close the wounds, but it gave her a rush of new vitality and they ran for the portal
This was it. This was the final task. All they had to do was survive long enough to take out the Netherbrain.
After setting off the blasts at Halsin’s command, Rolan had launched himself halfway down the stairs, nearly stumbling and stepping on his own tail. There were a handful of Flaming Fists, armed civilians, Cal, Lia and even Aradin guarding the perimeter of the tower; he had to go join them. The store was always chaotic with all the summons wandering around and magical effects but this was a different vein of mayhem. Anyone he could find with healing magic along the way was running around, people were screaming and crying on the floors and any clear surface available.
It sounded like Elturel.
Shaking his head of the thought, he pushed through the doors. People were still running, trying to get through the doors of the tower and whatever building still stood to get away from the carnage. The square was full of bodies and blood and rubble. He spotted Cal and Lia, both alive and fighting well. Cal’s swing was strong, Lia’s aim was impeccable — he was able to focus on casting. An illithid floated forward, chasing after a meal of one of the Flaming Fists' brains, Rolan quickly cast color spray, confusing the creature and shortly after one of Lia’s arrows sunk into its elongated head.
Cal got stunned, his head in his hands as he wobbled on his feet, two mindflayers floating towards him. Rolan nearly tripped over his robes to grab his brother by his shirt and pull him back, Cal fell and as soon as he was out of the line of attack Rolan felt the boom of thunder erupt from his hand. The illithids were sent backwards, landing on their back, prone.
“Cal,” he turned to offer a hand to his brother, “stay steady.”
“Yeah,” Cal grunted, shaking his head free of the psionic force which had stunned him. “I’m good, I’m alright.”
“Rolan! Incoming!”
Lia’s voice called out before she let an arrow loose. His eyes flicked to the sky, a nautiloid was overhead, a beam of some sort beginning to glow with energy.
“To me! Now!”
Aradin and anyone nearby enough to hear him huddled close, Rolan swiftly casting an orb of invulnerability. He had never cast it before, not successfully, but it was all he could think of to try. A slight red shimmer created a bubble around them, the nautiloid made its attack. A few people were decimated by the blow immediately outside of the orb, even a ravenous illithid in the middle of extracting a brain from a skull had not made it out of the way in time. The spell worked. Rubble flew into the air with the blast, and stopped bluntly at the barrier.
Thank the Gods. Rolan thought to himself, sweat beading down his temple.
Lia ducked in and out of the orb to shoot off arrows, clearing the path for some to make their way to the tower or within the confines of Rolan’s temporary protection. He managed to keep the orb up long enough for the blasts to cede after the nautiloid was distracted from attacking the ground by a Githyanki force of dragon riders.
“There’s more coming!” Aradin yelled. “We should fall back into the tower.”
“The wards can only take so much,” Rolan snapped back. “Get out there and kill something or get out of the way!”
He never understood Zevlor’s well-known ire for the mercenary more as he fled inside. As he had said, more illithids came out of the woodwork. The alien army had not found it necessary to send any armored mind flayers — relying on the freshly transformed tadpoled masses which had been lurking in the city. They had numbers, but most of them were stark naked, and sloppy in the unusual new bodies. Many of them fell quickly, which was his only comfort against the slowly dwindling numbers of his own allies. If they just kept it up, they could maintain the line of defense around the tower.
“Come on, Tav,” he heard Lia scream as another Flaming Fist fell to an illithid. “Just kill it already!”
There was no way for Tav to hear them, but he understood the panic. He felt each second that passed since he set off the blasts from the tower as if it were an hour. They could not keep this up forever, and part of him knew that as intense as it was on the ground, up there where the brain hovered in the air it was ten times worse.
“Tav needs us to hold strong,” he called to his sister. “We owe her that, at least.”
Lia was too far away for him to be sure but thought he saw her jaw set in the same way Cal’s did when he was concentrating. His brother felled an illithid in one blow, clean and easy at the neck.
“Can’t believe I’m saying this,” Cal said, “but Rolan is right!”
It truly was the end of the world.
When Tav hit the water, she blacked out for a moment. Her eyes opened and the gasp that wracked her body filled her mouth and lungs with water as she realized too late in her waking that she was in the Chionthar. She floundered to the surface, hacking and coughing. Once she had her breath, she started screaming for her companions.
“Here!” Gale yelled.
He was not too far off from her, hanging onto some floating debris, with an unmoving lump with white hair. She swam over, grabbing onto the debris.
“Is he alive?” She panicked.
“Breathing,” Astarion’s voice was weak, “stop screaming.”
“Where’s everyone else?” Tav felt herself succumbing to the confusion. “Karlach! Have you seen anyone? Wyll!”
“I’ve got Shadowheart and Wyll!” She heard Karlach call, a red spot in the distance, tethering two limp bodies as she kept them on their backs.
Lae’zel, Halsin, Minsc and Jaheira were still unaccounted for. Tav’s eyes scanned the water, dawn hadn’t broken yet, it was still dark and the depths below were impossible to see into. The only real light was provided by the city which was still very much on fire. Just as Tav was about to give into despair, a giant tentacle broke the water, then another, in its grips was an unconscious Lae’zel, and Minsc who was sputtering and cackling like a madman. Finally a third, and Halsin broke the surface.
“Minsc! Where’s Jaheira?”
“You look upon her!” He called back.
Wild shape was one hell of a thing. Tav called to the giant octopus whose eye peered into hers as it breached the surface, telling Jaheira to grab Karlach first as she was treading water and trying to keep two people afloat at the same time. Tav watched, only vaguely hearing Astarion and Gale speaking next to her. She needed to see them all safely put upon the dock, she needed to know she had done it. She hadn’t lost anyone.
“Stop trying to talk to me,” Astarion muttered. “I’m furious with you.”
“My love, I would have made sure you were transported out of harm's way,” Gale attempted to sooth him.
“And what about you?” Astarion snapped. “What was I supposed to do without you?”
She was not quite sure what they were talking about.
“We were losing, Astarion,” Gale pleaded. “The orb may have been—“
“The orb?” Tav heard her neck crack as she swung her head so fast to look at him. She felt dizzy.
“He very nearly blew himself up, again,” Astarion seethed. “I saw him reach for the dagger.”
“Gale!” Tav scolded. “I told you — not an option!”
“Tav, please, if all else failed —“
“But it didn’t!” She yelled.
“No,” he sighed. “No, it did not. So please, can we make it to land and put this to rest.”
Just as Tav was about to argue with him, she felt a tug at her midsection, and uncomfortable stinging of pain accompanying the grasp. Astarion and Gale were lifted out of the water by tentacles at the same time she was and they were being slowly carried to the dock. It was supposed to be over once they all made it on dry land. She had given in to the hope that she had finally led her party to their final battle without losing a single member. The victory was supposed to be sweet, and cathartic.
The moment they caught their breath on the dock, Karlach’s engine started to fail.
The main floor of the store was cleared of most furniture to make room for cots full of injured people. Amateur and professional healers alike were running around madly, calling for aid from whoever was still standing. To his credit, he had begun to organize as best he could. It was still chaos, but he was managing to take requests, send off whatever volunteer was nearest to assist, and have Cal take on grabbing potions and herbs from the stores as needed. Rolan was no healer, but he could wrap a wound before too much blood was lost as some poor soul waited for someone to be available. He could also bark orders, arrange for Fists to section off high risk patients from those who could survive without immediate attention.
There were two surgeons he had managed to recruit. Their space was at the very back near the necromancy supplies were, with a temporary shielding wall of stone. It didn’t drown the screams of agony as they operated but it prevented anyone from witnessing an amputation.
When the heroes of the hour burst through the door of the tower, even amongst the chaos, Rolan knew something was wrong. They looked like hell. Jaheira was bleeding from a deep wound on her head, Shadowheart was limping, and even Minsc who was always quick to get back on his feet looked like he had been thrown from a twenty story building and felt it. A good chunk of the party was missing. Wyll and Karlach were nowhere to be seen. In fact way too many of them were just gone. Astarion, Gale and Lae’zel didn’t follow, and neither did Tav. Halsin was the very last of them in, carrying someone.
“A bed! Now!” The Archdruid’s voice boomed over the chaos
A humming sound rang in his ears, the entire world pinpointed to the form of the woman in Halsin’s arms as he was directed to place her on a free bed by a Fist.
Rolan let his feet guide him to her side, a numb feeling keeping panic at bay. On the bed was a bloody mess of a woman, who in all appearances looked like Tav but… That surely wasn’t his Tav. That was an empty shell; the skin had no vibrancy, the only truly bright color was the blood leaking out of the deep wound in her stomach. Her eyes, open staring up at the ceiling, were empty.
Shadowheart placed her hands over Tav and the glow of her healing magic flashed and ebbed away. She tried again, but the magic stuttered out. Shadowheart let out a strangled scream in frustration, pounding glowing hands into Tav's chest and each rush of power was weaker and weaker.
“What are you doing? Heal her,” Rolan demanded. “Fix her!”
“I can’t —“ Shadowheart’s voice cracked.
“Shadowheart’s magic is spent,” Jaheira’s tone was sharp but even, the voice of a General. “And healing magic won’t work on her now. This is a magic shop — find a resurrection scroll.”
Resurrection implied she was dead. Logically, yes, he could see that. Tav was dead, nothing more than spent flesh and blood. But this was not supposed to happen, this was beyond everything he knew of her.
She always survives. She always does the impossible. She can't be dead.
“How did this happen?”
“Rolan,” Shadowheart pleaded his name, disregarding the question, “do you have a resurrection scroll?”
The buzzing in his ears stopped, the cacophony of the tower coming back to him. A solution that he could focus on. He took off in a sprint, jumping over the counter. His hands shook as he opened the safe where they kept the high value scrolls.
“Rolan, that Florrick lady is here, she brought some — what’s wrong?”
He didn’t hear Lia come up, and didn’t take the time to acknowledge her as he started reading through the stock. “We must have one.”
“Talk to me,” Lia said again getting his attention, “what’s happened?”
An idea jolted him, there were stores and stores of supplies in the study. “Upstairs, in the study, the scroll collection —“ he quickly said, “we need a resurrection scroll.”
“But —“
“Check the vaults, check the study — find me a resurrection scroll!”
Taking in his frantic tone, Lia ran off without further question. There was no possible way this was how Tav’s story ended. In a numb haze he remembered what little he knew about healing and divine magic; there was a time limit on a basic resurrection spell. At some point a soul was too far gone and True Resurrection would be the only other option. Plain resurrection scrolls were rare enough as it was, but a True Resurrection scroll was near impossible for most people to get ahold of.
Chain of lightning, hold person, cloud kill — his hands fumbled to work as fast as he read the scrolls. He had no real idea how much time was passing, but each second was too long. There were dozens of scrolls, and he looked at each one. Finding nothing of use he ran around the counter to start up the stairs.
He should have told her at High Hall. He should have just said it. He should have thought to find a scroll ahead of time for this very purpose. What a cosmic joke, for her to have made it this far, only to die at the finish line. She deserved better. He would make sure she got a better ending than this. He nearly ran into Lia jumping the last few steps of the staircase.
“I found one!”
She held up the scroll and he snatched it out of her hand, narrowly dodging a healer as he ran to the bed where Shadowheart was praying desperately.
“Found — the scroll —“ he stammered out, short of breath.
“Use it, quickly,” Jaheira said.
His fingers fumbled with the clasp that held it shut, as it unfurled he knew he needed to breathe through the panic in his chest. He could do an incantation, he could read the words off of a scroll as he had a hundred times before. There was not a God he prayed to usually, not one he thought to plead with specifically. Mystra, maybe. But given what he knew of her and her friends, Mystra might not be so inclined to help Tav.
His willpower would have to be enough; this was not how her story ended, he repeated to himself. She was too good, too resilient, too kind, too forgiving, too infuriatingly wonderful — too loved. Rolan was not going to let her disappear that easily, he vowed as he spoke the incantation.
The spell took hold, golden light shuddering Tav’s body, and then disappearing. For a terrifyingly long moment, he was unsure if it worked. But her eyes blinked, at first it looked like a twitch, but then they fluttered a few times and the light was back in them. Her limbs jolted like she had been electrocuted and then a truly shocking deep gasp for air had her sitting up on the cot.
“There you are, Cub,” Jaheira said, a steady hand on her shoulder which emitted the familiar green light of her Druidic magic. “Didn’t think we’d let you get out of cleaning up, did you?”
“Hurts,” she sucked breaths in desperately.
“Lay down,” Shadowheart said. “We’ll find a healer.”
“Where —?”
Rolan was frozen to the spot. She still looked so close to death. Her head swiveled over to him, eyes confusedly still searching for some sense of what was going on.
“You.” Was all she said.
“Yeah, me,” he breathed. “Lay down. You look awful.”
“Rude,” she wheezed but let herself ease onto her back. “I think you look… good…” exhaustion, pain or any combination of whatever her body was going through had her slipping out of consciousness.
“Tav,” Rolan panicked, kneeling next to her. “Damn you, stay awake,” he grabbed her face in his hands and she gave him a heavy lidded stare.
“Trying,” she said.
She was still in rough shape. Halsin and Jahiera dumped the last dregs of their limited healing magic into her, doing just enough to keep her from bleeding out on the bed once more. Shadowheart tipped her head back for a basic healing potion, and it dribbled down the side of her face but it brought some of the vibrancy of her skin.
“She won’t succumb to the wounds, but she needs healing quickly,” Halsin seemed to be talking to himself more than them, as he took off to find someone to help.
“You can rest now,” Shadowheart assured her softly. “Right, Rolan?”
He wasn’t so sure. But Shadowheart was a healer, she knew better than him. He swallowed hard, and nodded. “That’s right.”
“Good,” Tav mumbled, “tired.”
Shadowheart and Rolan watched as she slipped into unconsciousness. Her chest rose and fell, although shallowly. Shadowheart heaved a big breath, recomposing herself. She looked around the room, and then to Rolan.
“I need to rest, then I’ll be able to help,” she seemed to be telling herself rather than him. “I’ll stay here,” she said, “I’ll stay with her and rest.”
“What can I do?” Rolan asked desperately.
“You are the Master of Ramazith’s tower,” Jahiera cut in. “This is your city, you have a duty to its people now — unless you wish to follow Lorroakan’s example, get to work.” Jaheira looked down at Tav, “we will look after her, as she has looked after us.”
Rolan never felt more like an outsider, and he felt he should watch whatever healer Halsin found. If only to see for himself that she was truly going to be alright. Shadowheart was watching the rise and fall of her chest with intense focus, and it felt wrong that she was the only one of their original group by her side.
“Rolan, there’s a fire that they can’t put out over in Heapside,” Cal was there, Rolan hadn’t even heard him approach.
“There’s summoning scrolls, water elementals,” he said distractedly.
“Go,” Shadowheart looked at him. “We’ve got her.”
“And that is supposed to be a comfort?” He snapped. “She was dead just moments ago under your watch!”
“She didn’t tell us,” Shadowheart said back, a tone of shame in her raised voice. “Everything was happening so fast — she didn’t tell us she was hurt!”
“No one here is to blame,” Jaheira was annoyed, he could tell by the arch of her brow. “She would tell you the same.”
He felt another comment on the tip of his tongue, ready to rage and yell to do something with the gods awful feeling in his chest. He nearly lost her.
“Rolan,” Cal said, “we have to —“
“Fine! Fine.”
The city still needed saving, despite the threat being gone. Who knew how much help was needed across the city. Running to everyone's rescue was what she would tell him to do, but still he was afraid to leave her side. He touched her cheek: warm, alive, despite looking worse than she ever had after a fight.
“She’ll be alright?” He asked, wincing slightly at the desperate crack in his voice.
Shadowheart nodded, her hand coming to squeeze his, “I promise, I won’t let her slip away again.”
Rolan had no other choice but to trust her.
Thank you for reading!
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