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vetteltea · 4 months

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Love Will Always Show | CL16 & CS55

Summary: The choice of a lifetime is yours to make, your husband and lover both longing for your heart. They face conflict, choices and most importantly, one another.

Word Count: 8.4K [& a bit more]

Warnings: angst, mentions of cheating and dishonesty, manipulation, hospital talk.

Note: The fact I was a newbie to F1Blr when this started and now...here we are. I want to thank each and EVERY person who has ever read this series. It's changed everything for me, it is truly my love letter to you all and I hope you enjoy the finale. You are all forever in my heart and I cannot thank you all enough.

PART 1: A House, A Home | PART 2: Where Do We Go? | PART 3: ‘You Think, You Know’ | PART 4: 'Love Will Always Show'

Love is a gentle hand cradling your back.

Time had suspended when your body had collapsed onto the rough floor outside of the Scuderia Ferrari hospitality. Immediately, several scarlet-clad personnel were running over, shouts echoing across the open space, somebody mumbling that they needed to get you somewhere safe and warm before your body temperature dropped dangerously.

There’s a question of who to call; your father wasn’t in the country, ever since your mother’s funeral, he’s become silent, your siblings having been lovingly sent to stay with a close aunt. He had been absent from the previous Ferrari meeting, his assistant having sent a message to say he would be absent for a little longer. Clearly, the death of your mother was taking a toll.

The next obvious choice of course, was your husband. However, with the win that he had been craving for oh-so-long, he was currently wrapped up in press, endless ‘congratulations’ messages from celebrities and presenters alike. Nobody would know where to find the monegasqué right now, let alone how to tell him of his wife’s status whilst surrounded by endless television cameras and sly reporters.

There’s no need for him, anyway. Leaving the media pen after vigorous questioning of his loyalty to the team and his current emotions on a premature end to the race, Carlos’ dark eyes quirk to the side, registering the crowd of bodies circling the hospitality area. They only widen when the realization dawns on his clouded mind that it’s you, your body is the one thing they are all crowding around.

His steps break into a run, no signal being given to his media manager nor his cousin. He speaks a few sharp, spanish words, creating a break in the circle, able to insert his toned body into the sea of red, immediately squatting, one hand coming out to elevate the back of your head. He knows how particular you could be with your hair, how you insisted on now sleeping on silk pillowcases to keep it healthy. Asphalt ground was not comfortable nor hygienic.

There’s talk; talk about whether to take you to the hospital, whether to wait for your husband to return and make the decision. Carlos feels his blood curdle at the use of marital status. His teammate, the man who had treated you no better than the way he had treated bonds of trust, was the one to make a choice of your health and wellbeing.

He simply cannot stand for that.

“We need to take her to the hospital.” He interrupts the commotion, the strong tone settling over the panicked employees. “Surely that is the best place for her if she is unconscious, no?” The whispers and mumbles which echo the surrounding members of the team signify agreement.

There’s a discussion of how to bring you in without drawing attention to the media. Surely, if a giant ambulance or even a medical car was to storm through the paddock, no doubt endless media outlets would be creating headlines before even bothering to speak to anybody present. The Spaniard is already making his own choice, using his arms to gently adjust your body.

He shouldn’t; he really shouldn’t be moving you, not when you haven’t been checked for broken bones or concussion. Yet, the idea of the most beautiful girl, Mariposa, lying on a hard floor with no form of comfort or safety sickens him to his stomach. Carlos is still gentle with the movements, letting your head lean into his stomach, one hand is supporting your back, tanned fingers digging gentle patterns into the curve of your skin. The other one traces once, twice, three times around your cheekbone, dark eyes transfixed on your features.

You must have hit your skin when falling to the ground; there’s a graze dancing across your cheekbone, specks of dirt resting in between each knock. The man cradling you is gentle, moving his shirt just enough up his body that he’s able to take the hemmed end, feather it across your cheek in an attempt to remove the offending chunks.

Someone nudges Carlos’s shoulder, more in an attempt to tell him somebody was just outside the Paddock; that they could drive you to the hospital right now. He…he can’t bring himself to leave you. A strong grasp lifts you from the ground, holding you close to his chest, murmuring that he would get you there, and he supposed somebody would have to find Charles.

The area grows quiet; Carlos’ pace draws away from the Paddock and to the back entry. He was thankful that the entirety of the drivers were still either trapped in the media or with their own teams, celebrating or commiserating. He had enough of that for one day; an entire six laps was barely worth speaking about.

You’re still unconscious, still limp in his arms. However, there’s a rise and fall of your chest, you’re still breathing. That’s all he could ask for at this present time. He silently promises himself there and then that when you wake up, he’s making his final move. Where Charles has been playing chequers, he is playing chess; he had proven that even whilst you were stuck with your estranged husband, he would love you regardless.

There’s a people carrier in the car park, he’s certain he’s seen various drivers use it before; a built-in stretcher lies in the back, it’s ideally a discreet ambulance. The media could be brutal with gossiping when any driver had to leave the track. It would look worse if Charles Leclerc’s wife was seen leaving the paddock with his teammate. The driver of the vehicle nods when seeing the two get closer, stepping to sit in the driver’s seat whilst Carlos adjusted his grasp.

He lays you down onto the stretcher; it’s secured, you’ll be safe for the drive. The man can’t help but feel a draw of protectiveness over you. What on earth had caused it to collapse? Had he done something? Blood boiled, if your husband had done anything to cause this, he could personally guarantee that Charles would not be finishing any races for the remainder of the season. He would make sure of that.

His attention is caught by the glimmer of silver on your left hand; your wedding band. When he reaches the car, tucks you into the seat carefully and makes sure the seatbelt is secure around your frame, his fingers glide over your hand, removing the band and putting it in his own pocket.

‘It’s for your own good,’ he tells himself. ‘If your fingers swell up, they may need to cut it off.’ He could tell himself this story a thousand times; it doesn't hide the fact that his true intention in this moment is simple; for once, he could be the devoted husband, taking his wife to be nursed back to health.

The Spainard leans down, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your forehead, murmuring that you were going to be okay, that he would stay with you the entire time. The driver shouts, telling him to take a seat so they could get there before the press figured out something was wrong. He kisses your skin once more, before closing the doors, sprinting to the backseat, throwing his body in carelessly.

Angst overtakes his senses, shouting at the driver to start the car, he doesn't care about being strapped in. This way, he’s able to lean over the backseat, one hand reaching out to clasp at your own. You need to know that somebody is there, that he is there for you. He’s always been there for you. The car pivots out of the parking space, beeling for the main road and to the hospital.

Love is a scream for your name.

“Charles, tu dois ralenir!” Joris is insisting he needs to slow down the car; turning the current Leclerc in hospital into a duo would not be a satisfying outcome.

Ever since he’s been told, all your husband can see is red mist. One Ferrari employee had sprinted up to him whilst he was in the midst of cameras, the grin on his face as he’s finally able to seek his wife out, wanting nothing more than to skip on the Scuderia celebrations and take you instead, your beaming smile radiating the energy he had been bathed in.

It’s funny how life can change in the matter of a few moments; one second, he’s on top of the world, the next, Charles is pushing through every media outlet, fan and celebrity, barging himself into his driver’s room. He doesn't have time to remove his fireproofs, to pick up any of his belongings apart from his car keys. He isn’t communicating, french profanities fall from his lips, shaking his head in rage that nobody could find him to tell him. Tell him that his wife had been taken to hospital.

Joris had been the one to sprint after him; he knew better than most, when Charles saw nothing but mist, there was no getting to him, not whilst he was determined to do something. The driver knew in his heart his best friend was not to blame; after all, he had no idea of your disappearance, he had been with Charles almost the entire time. And yet…he can’t bring himself to even speak to Joris. Not until the duo make it to his rented car, Charles is adamant he is driving.

He only starts speaking when his best friend tells him to slow down. The driver barely does, only drawing to a slower pace when he sees the traffic lights start to build in front of him. Even in a panic, he respects road rulings. Drawing to a stop, the man finally has a second to take a shaky, unbalanced breath, angry tears pooling at the bottom of his eyes.

“Why did nobody tell me my wife was at the hospital?” His voice is strained, he’s clearly holding back tears, whether they’re angry or fearful is a different question. “She’s my- she’s my wife!” He can’t stop repeating it, as if it’s a prayer. His wife. His wife.

“She’ll be okay.” Joris knows that’s quite possibly the worst thing he could say to his best friend, but it’s the only thing he can bring himself to say. “She will be. C’est juste par précaution.”

“Putain!” Charles’ words are sharp, immediately pressing on the acceleration as the light switches to green, overtaking three cars in a matter of moments. He’s a man of regret, he has been ever since he realized how much he adores you. In that moment, he can’t help but think of everything he could have done differently that afternoon. He could have come and found you right after the podium, could have given you his jacket and told you to stay in his driver’s room, he would come and get you after. He could- he could of-

He could of waited with you after the funeral. He could have come and picked you up from Milan when you went to spend time with Carlos. He could have deleted his mistress’ number, and told her he was married.

“Tourner à gauche.” Joris tells his best friend to turn left, the Hospital Car Park coming into view. Charles turns the car, immediately eyes are roaming for any space, anywhere he could put the car. A sharp whistle and point from his best friend shows him a space right by the Emergency Department, parking the vehicle in possibly the worst way he ever has done. Within three seconds, the engine is switched off, seatbelts are unbuckled, and he’s shouting to Joris to pay for the parking, he needs to get inside.

For a driver, his sense of direction is becoming worse. It takes him a solid minute to read a sign, before his legs break into a sprint, skidding into a bustling Emergency Room. There’s old men, leant over in pain, convinced they’re dying. A child snuffling, masses of paper towels on her head. A woman with a twisted ankle, her attention engrossed by the magazine in her grasp. It smells of hand sanitiser and bleach, the yellow walls are hurting his eyes.

A woman behind the desk taps the counter, drawing his attention. “Hey- Sir!” She snaps. You can’t blame her; it’s hour thirteen of her fifteen hour shift. “You can’t be in here unless you’re hurt-”

He shouts your name. It’s as if he completely forgets he’s in a building. Charles is embedded in a maze, even if a lady in front of him can pull up your immediate location, he needs to find you himself, and he needs to find you now.

It isn’t until Joris comes in, having heard his best friend scream your name, that he overtakes Charles so overcome that he’s now hiding his head in his hands, unable to say anything that wasn’t your name. His ears prick up when the second man starts speaking, giving the woman your first name, your last name- Leclerc- and when you had been bought in. There’s a light tapping of the keyboard, she tells Joris you are in the department round the corner, room ten-

Charles is gone before she can finish her sentence, catapulting down the hallway, dodging round endless people, frantically searching for doors with numbers, not names. He sees the number four. Six. Eight.

Number Ten rolls into view. Without a single word, his hand latches around the door handle, pushing so violently the door smacks onto the inside wall. His eyes immediately fly to the bed, you’re lying there, so unconscious, still so beautiful, some strips over the graze on your cheek. Still, arms to either side, one hand connected to an IV, clearly in an attempt to rehydrate you. His first question is the location of your wedding ring, where on earth was it? Has it been taken away? It’s a question he completely forgets about when his gaze travels further.

The other hand is being held by a Spanish man he knows all too much about.

Love is notes left on a coffee cup.

Both men stood, silently hovering over your body whilst the nurse came in to run a course of tests, check your blood pressure, the IV line, make sure you were being cared for in the best capacity. Each held a coffee cup, Charles’ still primarily full, he couldn’t stomach anything; he felt sick from seeing you lie here, not laughing, smiling, speaking. Carlos had downed the drink bought in by Joris in a matter of moments; to him, it was fuel. Something to keep him awake until you woke up.

Whilst Charles was the one to ask questions; ‘Do you know what caused this? Is she going to have any long-term issues? Does she need any assistance when she wakes up?’ Carlos has captured the marker which has rested alongside the clipboard of your notes, his tongue poked out in concentration. The marker grazes along the cup, leaving a note, drawing a tiny picture of a butterfly- Mariposa- and placing the cup on your table, a silent message for if you woke up and god forbid- he wasn’t there.

The nurse draws away from your body, diverting her next task to the two men.

“I need to continue the examination but…” She looks to the door. “I cannot have you both in here. You need to wait outside, the Doctor will come in for further tests-”

“Can one of us wait here?” Carlos is the first to interrupt, the look on the woman’s face tells him he’s made a mistake.

“Both.” She clarifies, pointing at himself, then at his teammate. “One and two. You need to wait outside. If she wakes up or there’s any…issues, we will let you know.”

It turns out, both men are hesitant to leave you; Charles moves first, crouching by your side, running a gentle hand over your hairline, pressing his lips carefully to your temple. He’s murmuring, french words of adoration and comfort, that he will be right there when you need him.

When one steps away, the other comes forward. Carlos doesn't say anything, instead tracing a gentle finger across your cheek. His touch tells you everything, it speaks volumes. He loves you, he’ll be outside, don’t be afraid to come running into his arms like you had done once before. The nurse begins to lose her patience, ushering both men out into the corridor, telling them to sit in the plastic chairs provided or go somewhere else; she really didn’t care.

The scene is reminiscent of two boys sitting outside of the principal’s office; Charles’ head hides in his hands, leaning forward, still dressed in his fireproofs. He’s tied the sleeves around his waist, the dark undershirt now drenched in sweat from the driving, both on track and to the hospital.

He feels movement next to him, Carlos’ hand dips into his pocket, pulling out something small, silvery. Her wedding ring. He supposes Carlos means it as a sign of goodwill, that he kept it safe. In the Monégasques mind, it’s the fuel to light the fire. Scoffing, he snatches the jewelry off of his teammate, placing the band onto his pinky finger, it’s the only one it would fit on, the only way he could keep it safe.

“Funny. You took it off her.” He’s growing mad, aggravated that Carlos wouldn’t just go away and leave him and his wife alone. Hadn’t he done enough already? “Why don’t you go back to Natasha?” The blonde ex-media woman for their team is referenced. Carlos opens his mouth, ready to snap back, it was a low blow for Charles to reference his history with the woman.

“I know what you did.” He huffs. There’s something…different. Different in the way he speaks to Carlos now compared to every other day. The polite, civil conversation is gone, the fact he couldn’t pass judgment because of his own actions has evaporated. “I know you invited her to Madrid just to make a move.” He remembers seeing the instagram stories, how your eyes were wide, full of life. He made you remember life is beautiful. “You kept her close. You wanted her and didn’t like that she was mine.”

“Yours?” He scoffs. “She’s not your property, Charles.”

“No. But she’s my wife. I’m the one she lies next to every night, I’m the one who will care for her in sickness and health, who’s shoulder was leant on through every bad time.” He pauses. “Who picked her up after you coaxed her into your bed.” He laughs. Actually, laughs. The memory replayed in his head, how sleepy you looked as he guided you back into the SUV, how your heart sank when seeing the blonde approach his front door. In that moment, you had convinced yourself you meant nothing to Carlos apart from lust.

Charles was a jealous man; he had taken pride in stripping off his teammates' clothing, wrapping you in his own, soft hoodie. You were his. Carlos wouldn’t care for you the way he did, he was a man too full of lust. He was convinced the Spainard didn’t make you laugh, didn’t make you smile, didn’t make you come-

“You corrupted her, Carlos.” He finishes. “I know what you did-”

“-And I know what you did.” Carlos snarls. He doesn't care about anything more; he knows all too well that his teammate could go crying to the Ferrari bosses, have him removed from the team in a blink of an eye, throwing some false information out which he would have to comply with. But he doesn't care. His affection has grown too strong for that.

“I know everything, Charles.” He’s monotone, he’s stating facts. “I know how she waited at home for you on her birthday, whilst you were in your mistress’ bed.” Carlos remembers asking you about your plans the previous week, how you had brushed them off. “I know how she made you dinner every night, how you refused to eat it.” Charles feels his stomach drop, the endless leftovers stacked neatly in the fridge, the meals he had never bothered to try. “I know on your wedding night, you came into the hotel room drunk, covered in bites and she slept on the sofa-”

“Enough!” Charles’ voice shouts, standing up from the plastic chair in the corridor. He doesn't have to hear this, he can’t bear to hear this. One mistake a day was something he was always able to brush off. Hearing each and every one of his infidelities laid out in front of him sent his mind into overdrive. “You have no right to comment on-”

“On what?” The Spainard is standing up now, chest out and arms folded. “On your marriage?” He laughs, he smirks. “Can you call it that? A marriage is a bond between two people who love one another-”

“I love her!” Charles cuts him off, stepping closer. “I love her.” He repeats himself. Carlos looks gobsmacked, shaking his head in denial.

“You have a really weird way of showing her you love her.” He continues to poke, to prod. “Sharing a bed with another woman is not how you show love-”

“I admitted to my mistakes!” He’s quick to defend himself, how the restraining order was placed and a lawsuit filed, how he promised if you wanted to know anything, see anything, he would let you. How he would spend the rest of his days always feeling dread and regret. “I fixed them-”

“Who says she still loves you?” Carlos has snapped.

Charles hates to admit that he may be right. Is it really fair for him to expect your love after everything that has happened in the past year? It didn’t matter how many times he begged, he pleaded or promised. The man you had married had spent the better part of 365 days in the arms of another woman, a woman that as he stood here, clinging onto any hope of his marriage, meant absolutely nothing to him.

His slim fingers trail down, circling the cool band which rested on his left finger. He had decided there and then, he would keep it on, always. There would be no more reasoning, none. If Lewis could wear his earrings, Charles would wear his wedding ring. He looks back up, Carlos still boring into him with dark eyes, the anger he radiated almost entirely visible.

“Do you love her?” He presses. He needs to know; he doesn't bring himself to care that you had spent a night in his arms, not when he had done it to you a thousand times over. The idea makes him sick, but nothing compared to the idea that you are in love with somebody that isn’t him, not when he needs nothing but for you to come home, back to your home with him.

Charles swears he feels vomit rise into his mouth when Carlos nods. He’s not stupid, not really. He knows how he fell for you properly in the past few weeks, how for Carlos who has been in awe of your affection and attention, the center of every race weekend you had reluctantly attended. It may have been to support him, but you could still enjoy the fact that Carlos would be there, too.

Your husband isn’t sure what he wants to do anymore. If there wasn’t an examination happening, he would have run into your private room and locked the door. Instead, his glassy eyes gaze up, catching Carlos’ dark ones. It hits him at once; his teammate, somebody who he once considered a close- no, best friend, was the one who had taken his wife away from him. His brain can’t catch up with his body movements, the red mist clouds over once more.

Charles Leclerc punches Carlos Sainz in the nose.

He doesn't intend for it to be a strong punch; Formula One drivers are a lot stronger than they realize, and the contact not only causes the Spaniard to knock back, shouting out in pain, but a sharp sensation rockets through Charles’ clenched fist, wiggling his fingers as they relax. Carlos’ nose is immediately red, becoming scarlet by the moment, though no blood has fallen. Your husband’s immediate reaction is ‘Should have punched him harder.’

He doesn't have time to think about anything else, not before he has two strong hands on his chest, shoving him harshly. The sudden sensation causes him to lose balance, falling to the floor and landing on his back. A shock radiates through his body, Carlos looming over him, clearly ready for a second punch.

That thought is drawn away when the door to your room opens, both men immediately staring at the nurse, her hair worn and eyes tired. Before either man can throw a question at her, she speaks.

“She’s still not awake, we’re going to bring her around in an hour, but she’s going to have to stay overnight for observation. If one of you could get her some overnight things-”

“I can.” Charles immediately cuts off the nurse, pulling himself to sit up and stand from the floor. “I’m her husband. I will get them.” It’s a subtle jab to the man in front of him, Carlos still holding his nose, convinced it was about to start bleeding any moment. He would have gone and sought out attention for himself, if he hadn’t felt a sharp vibration in his back pocket, a phone call. In any other time, he would have ignored it. But he knows who it is, he knows how important it is.

Without a word, Carlos answers the call, rapidly speaking in Spanish as he walks down the hall.

Love is a pocket square at the bottom of a suitcase.

The contrast of Charles leaving the hospital was night and day to him arriving. He hadn’t spoken a word to Joris, apart from expressing that he needed to go back to the hotel to get your overnight items. Although it was barely a ten minute drive away, every minute felt like a century; he wanted nothing more than to go back to the hotel, sit by your side and hold your hand until you woke up.

He could have sent Joris back, given him the room key and told him to grab some things, but it didn’t seem right. The idea of his best friend going through your suitcase didn’t sit comfortably with him. Moreover, he didn’t know. Charles knew; he knew what pajamas you found the most comfortable, what outfit would be easiest for you to travel back in, how you wanted your panties and socks paired together and how your phone charger had to loop clockwise.

The ornate hotel room looks dull without you; your suitcase still rests in the bottom of the wardrobe; you had hung up evening wear, dresses for the inevitable after-parties. Folded in your suitcase remained your other clothing. Charles is quick to select his items; the tropical cotton pajamas. You had bought him a pair in the same fabric, telling him that they would be the comfiest thing to sleep in. Your stitched jumper and comfiest jeans. You had worn those jeans when you had tagged along to his photoshoot for the Ferrari livery, holding his water and the APM Monaco jewelry he couldn’t wear. Your outrageously expensive hairbrush. You had brushed his hair through after a particularly bad race, whispering promises that it would get better, that the car was going to evolve for him, the best driver on the grid.

Bile rises to Charles’ stomach and with no warning, he sprints to the bathroom, dropping to his knees by the toilet and throwing up the barely-there contents of his stomach. He had barely eaten, barely drank any water, but couldn’t help the sickness in his tummy.

He pulls away from the toilet basin, eyes watery, breath trying to catch up with the speed and cries.

Charles doesn't realize it’s happening at first, he hasn’t cried like this in so long; the kind of crying where you can’t fathom words, you don’t make a sound because you’re crying so deeply. The kind where your chest is exploding and your heart feels like it’s going to explode. The kind where all he wants is for his mother to cradle him like she did when he was five, run her hands through his hair and whisper him words of comfort.

This time, he doesn't want his mother, he wants you.

It’s selfish, it’s so incredibly selfish and it hurts to know that it’s taken him until now to realize what you mean to him. It would never happen, but his wound-up head can only close his eyes and visualize you running in, pulling his head into your chest and running your hands through his dark tufts, pressing cool lips to his forehead and promising him over and over that it was going to be okay. You were going to be okay.

He lets himself cry for five minutes; he times it because he wants to collect your things and make his way back, Joris was waiting in the car. When the five minutes are over, he pinches his nose, taking short, ugly gasps until his eyes remain bloodshot but not blurred. The sound of the toilet flushing echoes through the hotel room, making his way out of the bathroom and to the items he had hurriedly dropped atop of your suitcase.

Nimble fingers cradle each item, carefully rolling and tucking them into a pillowcase; he didn’t have a bag big enough to suffice each item and couldn’t bring himself to bring your entire suitcase along, it almost seemed as if once you had it, you could disappear from his life. At least this way, he could have one final farewell if you chose to leave. The items are almost secure, until his grip on the pillowcase folds, glassed eyes catching a glimmer of blue hidden at the bottom of the case. With no hesitation, he pulls on the fabric. His heart drops on the realization of the item.

It’s a pocket square. More specifically, it’s his pocket square from your wedding.

You don’t know when you had started packing it, but you supposed it was from your mother’s own doings. After her wedding to your father, she had always carried around her ‘something blue,’ as a gesture of good luck, of safety. After the first time you had found out about Charles’ mistress, you had discreetly tucked the fabric into your bag, carrying it around, a silent hope your husband would return to you.

It hadn’t worked in Jeddah. In Imola. In Spa. In Monaco. You had reluctantly taken it from your bag one evening, on the plane home from consoling your family, using your pen to doodle in the very corner ‘Mr and Mrs Leclerc,’ a silent fantasy of the loving marriage you had dreamed of.

That night was the first time you and Charles ever shared a bed.

The fabric lingers between his fingers, the blue contrasting against the silver of your ring, still resting on his pinky finger. Now changed into his own clothes, he slides the ring off, wrapping it gently in the pocket square and sliding it into his trouser pocket. As he does, he recognises your handwriting, the titles printed in the bottom of the fabric.

He can’t help the tears rolling down his cheeks once again.

Love is a desperate telephone call.

Carlos is still pacing around the outside courtyard of the hospital, having been on hold for a grand total of seventeen minutes. He is not a man of patience, he is not a man of quiet.

The phone buzzing in the corridor had been a welcome call, despite the situation. His lawyer, finally ringing him back after what felt like days of apprehension. He had dipped from the public eye to try and grab hold of some privacy, slipping in his wireless headphone so as not to hold the device to his ear for hours upon hours.

Almost thirty minutes ago, his lawyer had called him, confirming his thoughts of the previous days.

"You're not wrong." His lawyer has already clarified it once, twice, three times. "If there is evidence beyond a shadow of a doubt, then it is the correct term for a divorce.

Carlos feels his blood run cold. He loves her, he's as certain as that as he is of the fact that the sky is blue and his win in Silverstone. The man wants nothing more than to make her feel cherished, adored. Taking a bite out of his teammate was just a bonus feature.

That had been a few days ago, when the anger had surpassed him after Natasha’s return, how that made him look as bad, if not worse than Charles. He’d immediately sent her packing, blocked her on every form of media, gone as far as to insist if she ever came for a visit, he wouldn’t be present.

The second part, the evidence, had been laid out all too perfectly.

The line suddenly clicks, signaling his lawyer had returned. Carlos doesn't wait for a verbal queue, the audible sign of his return is more than enough.

“Do you have it?” He asks, barely any time to let the man on the other end of the phone respond. “You must have it, no? It should have been sent. I made sure it was sent.”

“I have it.” He clarifies. “I have them right here.” A rustle of paper is heard from the other end of the telephone, content of an envelope being spilled onto his desk. “Are you sure you want me to send these to be confirmed as evidence? That the women in the photographs will not retaliate?”

Carlos had not been entirely honest with you. Not about his knowledge of Charles’ situation. Ever since the confession all those months ago, the understanding that you knew of Charles’ affair, he had been playing a long, patient game. He had photographs, evidence of the mistress’ appearance at each paddock, her arms snaking around Charles’ body, kisses between the duo. How he could continue to do so, whilst you, the epitome of beauty, sat in his drivers’ room, playing the doting wife. At one point, he had considered going directly to the press, directly to Ferrari themselves to out their ‘Golden Boy.’

And then…he had seen you with him in the Paddock that one race, looking through the window of his driver’s room. How your fingers latched onto one another, how genuinely shattered you looked when she had shown up yet again, lingering outside of the hospitality area. The guilt snuck through him, how he had seen her arrive, and yet failed to mention to you, give you any warning of her presence.

Even if he had been the one to invite her. Even if he had been the one to press her about sending the photographs to Charles, not blackmail. Merely a reminder of his actions, how much he supposedly missed his mistress.

“She wouldn’t.” He’s quick to respond. “She wouldn’t care.” He’s not wrong, his mistress being in the limelight would only elevate her status, with the way his teammates’ brain worked, it would more than likely draw them back to one another.

“And Mrs. Leclerc?”

It’s the first time Carlos has hesitated. Even if he couldn’t admit it to himself, he knew that your relationship with Charles had grown, that ambient it was made paper-thin, the trust was slowly beginning to come back. He thinks about how your eyes blinked widely, in awe of your husband on the podium earlier that day, how it supposedly didn’t matter he had spent most of your marriage wrapped in her arms, you still looked at him like that. Did you look at him like that? Like the way he looked at you.

This action could draw out a multiverse of reactions but at the end of the day, he had settled with two. The first was that you understood, that you would see the evidence, and understand the case. Divorce Charles and marry him, even if it meant he would give up everything.

The second is that you would see the chaos he caused and you would never speak to him again.

“Mr. Sainz?” The voice at the end of the telephone draws him from his questioning, running a hand across his red, swollen nose. It wasn’t broken, but god it was hurting. Bruised, most likely. “I need an answer.”

He needed to speak to you.

“Can you just-” He huffs, running a hand through his dark hair, his fingers almost getting caught in the strands. Of course his hair was tangled, he’d been doing nothing but pulling on it ever since he arrived at the hospital. “Let me speak to her. Hold it for 24 hours. You can do that, yes?” It’s not even a question now, nor a request. It’s a demand. He can’t do this, he can’t openly destroy your marriage for his own sake without speaking to you, without knowing for a fact that you love him.

Your name is carved onto his soul, onto his skin. The first thing he thinks about in the morning, and the last thing he would think about at night. There is no life he wishes to live in if you’re not there. Even as his friend.

There’s suddenly a light tap against glass, snapping the man’s attention from his device. He mumbles something in Spanish, telling his lawyer he would call him back, dreading who was coming out into the private courtyard.

He visibly relaxes when he sees it’s just a man, sneaking out whilst tears pool on his lower lashline, giving Carlos a warming nod.

“You don’t mind if I join you, do I?” The Spainard shakes his head. “My wife- she’s just being induced and wanted some space. She’s…” He gestures, trying to explain to a complete stranger how a few minutes ago, his wife wanted to cry and shake her head, but wanted nothing to do with him. It was all his fault.

Carlos offers a warm hand on his back, patting him firmly. “Congratulations. Do you know what you're having?” He’s invested, anything to distract him from his previous phone call, the weight of a decision on his shoulders.

The stranger grins. “A girl.” He smiles harder. “I don’t mind, as long as they arrive happy and healthy. But god- a girl, just like her.” He thinks. Carlos thinks. In an alternative universe, he’s sat by your side, pressing kisses and praises to your skin, holding you tighter as your daughter enters the world, ready to meet her mother and father. She would be like you; your eyes, hair, smile. It would be another you to love, to adore.

“Your first?” Carlos presses his question. The man sighs, shaking his head, shoving his hands into his pockets as he looks into the polished corridor.

“No. She’s…” He pauses. “We got together after hiding how we felt for so long, how we wanted to be with one another.” He looks to Carlos, clearly ashamed and embarrassed of the situation. “I know how it sounds, but sometimes you can’t help it. I- I love her.”

A band snaps in Carlos’ stomach; love knows no bounds.

Love is waking up to think of your person.

The first thing you register when you come around is brightness. You’re not in the soft glow of the luxurious hotel room you and your husband had been given, nor the candle-lit bedroom of Carlos’ apartment. No, the light is bright, blinding. An off-white which made your eyes squint.

Your senses are heightened; the only scent which flares through your nostrils is hand sanitiser and overpowering lilies. Nose scrunched, you attempt to wiggle your body upwards, aware of the IV line pinned into your hand. Panic immediately settled through your tummy, until your eyes flickered to the bag, realizing it was just water, they just wanted to rehydrate you.

Hesitantly, you wiggle each part of your body. Arms, hands, fingers. You’re able to move, though you couldn’t…you couldn’t remember why you got here. Memories are hazy, you remember Charles’ podium, the way he kissed you so deeply, so lovingly. Carlos’ hand on your waist, pulling you back to stop you from the champagne trickling over your body. You were overwhelmed, overworked and…you guessed it just all became too much.

You just about manage to turn your body, the first thing you’re aware of is that your cushion smells familiar. Warm nodes, sandalwood and seasalt. It’s a smell you’ve grown all too accustomed to, burying your face into their chest whilst you took refuge in his arms, in a hotel room. Charles had been there, already. His celebrations had clearly been cut short, whether or not it was for show or because he cared.

The second thing is the coffee cup. Cardboard, the contents clearly already drained, but handwriting etched onto the side in a thick, black marker. The handwriting, the doodle of a tiny butterfly. Carlos had been there, too.

There’s a sharp pinch on your cheek, fingers reach up to your skin and feel the butterfly strips against you. Immediately, a thousand questions come back to your mind, none of them being answered through your own memory. Instead, the door opens, a nurse in clean, bright uniform walking in, closing the door behind her. She beams at the realization you’re awake, shoulders relaxing.

“You’re awake!” Her tone is incredibly warm, seemingly very happy you’ve decided to wake up on your own terms. She’s quick to move to your bedside, pressing the back of her hand to your forehead. “How are you feeling? Have you warmed up?” You’re not sure what she’s referencing, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. She takes the look on your face as unknowingness, able to fill in the gaps.

“You collapsed on the track.” She’s trying to get through everything she needs to tell you. “We did some tests, you’re incredibly dehydrated for a start, you need to try and get some rest.” She pauses. “It’s nothing to be concerned about, we have collapses from dehydration every so often, more than you would realize.” Her eyes flicker down, finding it hard on how to phrase the next part of the question. “You also seem…incredibly worried.” You’re not sure how she could tell that from simply examining you, but you nod in confirmation. “Your blood pressure, it’s incredibly low. That’s why you fainted.”

“Yes.” You pause. How on earth were you about to explain the past twelve months to a nurse, a complete stranger? “There’s been some…reasons. You know, for the stress.” Her eyes soften, but the questioning continues.

“Are you trying for a baby?” You shake your head. “Moving house?” A shake. “Have you…lost somebody recently.”

You freeze, memory flickering to your mother, how in the midst of fixing your marriage, discovering your affection towards another, she had disappeared from the world. This time, you nod your head, drawing your knees up to your body, shivering. The nurse is quick to wrap a blanket over your shoulders, closer to the answer.

“I lost my mother.” You breathe out, shaking your head. “I lost my mother, and she’s the only one I can go to.” Now you’ve started speaking, you can’t finish. “I want to make them happy. I want to make him happy.” There’s tears glassing over your eyes.

You want him. You want him right now.

She sympathizes, she understands. “Sometimes, all you need is for them to tell you it’s going to be okay, right?” She lets her words trail off, turning to the door of your room. “He’s outside. He’s been waiting to see you.”

Your blood freezes.

“Would you like me to get him?”

You nod before you’ve even realized, your body clearly knows better than your mind. The nurse stands up straight, pacing towards the door as you feel your heart begin to race harder, frantically. She steps out of the room, a minute mumble on the other side, clearly a warning to be incredibly careful. It’s barely a minute before the door swings back open, dark hair and frantic panting.

You glance up, your heart softens at those eyes.

The eyes that you, the reader, wanted to see as you glanced to the door.

GREEN EYES [CL16 Ending]

BROWN EYES [CS55 Ending]

This is everyone who asked to be tagged! @Mac-daddy-210 @aundercover@barnestatic@omgsuperstarg@chimchimjiminie16@caelum-the-part-time-nihilist @magicalcowboyarbiter @gaslasysblog@junetto @beatrizmel-472 @motorsp0rt@crowdthena@screemqueen@lewislvr@styles-sunflower@itspaddockprincess@adeptustemptations @amalialeclerc @meetmyblondemuffins@formulanando@lorarri@christianpulisic10@gaypoetsblog@thisbitxhs-blog@goldsainz@ru-kru@magical-spit@hrlzy@nooshytushie@gaslysainz@marvel-at-stucky@sugarvibez@adeptustemptations@roseseraj@leclercdream@pjofics@hecatesfavoritechild@poseforme@thisbitxhs-blog @adalynneva @meganlikes2purr @sabrinaselina55 @laneyspaulding19@heavenlyiecreature@pink-teddy-bear@nooshytushie@strawberries-and-racing@milasexutoire@ohthemisssery@florkt@obsessedwiththeideaofyou@ru-kru@myhomeworksnotdone@ineedafictionalman@bregarc@allywthsr@summerslike11@wildcupcake@willowpains@marlenamallowan@leclercloml@katzenwahnsinn@be-your-coffee-pot

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roosterforme · 9 months

Text

The Curveball Part 6 | Bob Floyd x OC

Summary: Bob fears that things with Molly are a lot more physical than emotional for her. But when Molly gets a visit from Casey, it helps her recognize just how strong her feelings for Bob really are.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, swearing, 18+

Length: 5400 words

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Female OC (this story accompanies Batting Practice!)

Check my masterlist for more! The Curveball masterlist

Thank you to @mak-32 and @teacupsandtopgun for the beautiful banners!

Bob checked the time while he made dinner and smiled. Molly would be over soon. She never gave his key back, and he never asked for it back. It had been on her keyring for a few weeks, and he loved it when she let herself in and called his name.

He heard the key in the door and froze, closing his eyes to let her voice wash over him. "Bobby?"

"In the kitchen, Mo," he answered. She looked perfect to him even though she came right from work. And Bob wanted her immediately. But the way she always initiated sex with him as soon as she saw him was starting to become a red flag. So he held back. Or he tried to. But her arms were around his waist, and her lips were on his neck, and she was whispering something dirty.

He was the one constantly whispering that he loved her. But she hadn't said it back. Not once. And now, in spite of himself, he was getting hard for her as she took his hands and guided them up the front of her scrubs top and inside her sports bra.

Immediately his brain told him something new and exciting was going on, and then Molly said, "I got something for you." He ran his thumbs across her nipples. The little bars he liked so much were gone, which sent him into a state of panic. But as she peeled off her top and her bra, Bob's heart started pounding. A strangled sound escaped him as he looked at Molly's nipples which were now sporting delicate gold rings with charms hanging from them. Glasses charms.

"Honey," he moaned, dipping his head down to taste her there before he could even comprehend what he was doing. And a moment later, when Bob was laying on his living room floor with his pants pulled down and Molly riding him, he thought perhaps he was part of the problem.

As he fingered the tiny glasses charms and enjoyed the look and feel of her bouncing on his cock, he realized that he couldn't keep his hands off her for more than five minutes. When he was with Molly, he wanted to be with her in every way. And he still didn't even know what this relationship was. But he knew he could make her cum. He was good at it. Loved doing it.

She collapsed on him, shaking and moaning his name, and he thought he'd gladly do anything to hear her say she loved him.

"What's for dinner?" she asked. "Something healthy?" she added, climbing off of him and letting his cum drip onto his abs. She knelt down to lick him clean, and then he got to his feet as well. Bob was just in awe of her.

"Pasta and salad," he replied, and she kissed his chin and looked up at him with the softest eyes. He wished he could better understand this balance they had which was far skewed in the physical direction. But when she looked at him like that, he felt like everything was okay.

The following day, Molly had to work a day shift. It was Saturday, and Bob was exhausted at the tee ball game. She kept him up half the night with her hands and mouth and pussy all over him. He had literally no idea how Molly was going to manage an eight hour shift when he could barely focus for a one hour game. Plus, he was going to pick Molly up after work and take her to the bar.

"You okay?" Bradley asked him with a smirk. "Damn, you look beat."

Bob sighed and fixed his baseball cap. Maybe he could talk to Bradley about his apprehensions. "Molly came over last night, and she barely let me sleep-"

Bradley grimaced. "Please. Say less."

Bob cradled his face in his palms. "I'm trying to be serious here, okay? I think she is way more into me physically than emotionally. And trust me, this is an issue I never dreamt I would have with a woman."

"Bob," Bradley said with a sigh. "As much as I do not want to know details of any sort... are the two of you doing anything together besides fucking? Like going out? Binge watching a series on TV? Cooking meals? Talking about shit?"

"Yes," he replied. "She's got me addicted to serial killer documentaries. I take her out for sushi at least once a week. But she's not allowed to cook anything in my kitchen after the smoke detector scare. And we went for a hike last weekend. The other night, we laid on her living room floor and talked for hours. But I'm telling you, everything begins and ends with sex. Her hands were down my pants in the grocery store parking lot a few nights ago."

Bradley snorted. "You're fine, Bob. You're actually living the dream and complaining about it. You have a girlfriend who wants you in some capacity or another around the clock. Just enjoy it."

But that was the other problem. Molly wasn't actually his girlfriend. Was she? Did she think she was? Would he sound like an idiot if he asked for confirmation? Bob wanted confirmation, but he had no idea how to ask. And now it was time to start practice.

Every time Bob glanced toward the bleachers and saw Molly's sister, he had to do a double take. But while she was cheering for Everett, she was also subtly waving to Bradley. Thank goodness they had made up.

After the Tiny Eagles won, Bob went home, took a shower, and then took an afternoon nap. He hadn't done this since he had the flu a few years ago. He woke up just in time to leave to pick Molly up from work and take her to the Hard Deck. He changed into jeans and a shirt and fixed his hair. If she didn't get a chance to change after her shift, he'd stop by her place and let her get ready there.

Now that Nat had met Molly, she kept asking Bob to bring her out to the bar, and finally tonight they were both off. But he was nervous to have her around all the guys. His friends would be bad enough, but the bar was a hangout for naval officers, and women were a hot commodity there.

When he pulled into the hospital parking lot, it was packed. Bob thought he saw her car two aisles over as he parked his truck and hopped out to go meet her. And there she was, walking toward her car with her backpack slung over one shoulder and her ID lanyard in her hand. She hadn't spotted him yet, so he just stopped to admire her. She'd changed into some high-waisted white shorts and a light blue crop top with one of Bob's dress shirts unbuttoned over it. The sleeves were rolled up to her elbows, and she was quite effortlessly the hottest woman Bob had ever encountered in his life.

But when she got to her car, Bob watched her expression turn annoyed. He wasn't sure how he missed it, but there was a guy on a motorcycle parking her in. When Molly got close to him, he hopped off, and Bob could hear Molly say, "Casey."

Bob's blood ran cold. She was meeting him here, in the parking lot where she was supposed to be meeting Bob. Molly had reassured him that she was done with Casey, and he had believed her. She promised Bob that he was the only guy she was seeing. He was three parking spots away now, but he couldn't seem to make himself close the distance to Molly. He could almost feel the rejection from here. Yet she didn't look quite happy that Casey was in her personal space.

He was trying to give her a bouquet of the wrong kind of flowers. She liked gas station flowers. Didn't this guy know anything? And now he had Molly caged in against her car. He was going to kiss her. Bob stumbled closer, and then Casey actually did kiss Molly's cheek right next to her mouth.

Bob needed to leave. He needed to go back home. Watching this unfold was going to shatter his heart.

"Fuck you, Casey," Molly said, shoving him away. He was big, and he didn't really budge, but Molly looked pissed off now. "You're only here because you want to get laid."

"Come on, sexy. I got you flowers. I'll take you for a ride to the beach. It'll be fun."

"Not interested," she replied, but he was still right there, practically touching her.

"Why haven't you been texting me back?" he asked, his voice getting a little more gruff.

She rolled her eyes and said, "I'm seeing someone else."

"So am I. Doesn't mean we can't fuck around. Nobody fucks like you. I missed these, too," he said, chuckling while he reached for Molly's shirt, swiping his thumb along the fabric near her nipples as she shoved him again.

Bob was running now, fists clenched as he shouted, "Hey!"

Molly and Casey both turned to face him as he rushed across the aisle, and while Casey looked irritated and mildly confused, Molly's face lit up in a beautiful smile.

"Bobby," she sighed, stepping right into his arms and pressing her cheek to his chest. He held her close, but he didn't take his eyes off Casey.

"This the guy you're seeing?" he asked with a laugh.

Molly didn't have a chance to respond before Bob said in a voice with an undercurrent of rage, "You don't touch her."

There must have been something in his tone, because Casey didn't respond. He just set the flowers down on the top of Molly's car as she pressed her lips to Bob's neck. Her fingers were in his hair as she whispered, "I missed you all day."

"Molly, are you okay?" Bob asked, and she pulled away from him and nodded.

"Yeah, I'm good." Then she raised her middle finger in the air and said," Fuck off, Casey," as the other man climbed on his motorcycle and rode away. "He's just mad because I don't want him anymore."

"He doesn't get to touch you, Honey," Bob whispered, tracing the perfect curve of her bottom lip with his thumb. "I love you." He'd said it several times before, but usually in the dark, and never while making eye contact with her. She kissed his thumb and then his lips, but she didn't respond the way he had hoped.

"Only you get to touch me," she murmured against his mouth, and Bob's heart was pounding for a different reason now as the sound of the motorcycle faded away. "Just you."

"Mo, Honey." His big hands were on the soft skin of her waist, tucked inside his shirt that she was wearing. She skipped a bra. Bob could see the shape of those pretty new rings through her crop top. And she was kissing him, giving him her soft moans as he held her.

"I thought we were going to the bar," she whispered, smiling in the dying sunlight as his hands slid down to her butt. "Wanna see my new friend, Nat."

Bob stroked her lip again. "You'll stay with me the whole time, yeah? Me or Nat. The whole time."

"I will," she promised, looking very pleased with herself. Looking like she had Bob exactly where she wanted him.

------------------------

The drive was pretty quiet as Bob gripped the steering wheel and drove exactly the speed limit.

"So...my sister told me the Tiny Eagles won today."

"Yeah," he grunted in response. Molly sat quietly, unsure how to respond to him when he was like this. He was never like this.

After a mile or so, he asked, "Did you tell Casey to meet you at your car?"

Molly laughed. "Are you serious right now? No!"

"Then why was he there, Mo?"

She turned to face him as he drove, street lights illuminating his face with a golden glow. "The hospital was probably the only place he could find me. I've been avoiding his calls and texts, and I'm at your place more often than I'm at mine."

"Why does he think it's okay to touch you like that?" he asked. His voice sounded calm, but Molly could tell he had to work at it.

"I guess.... because I'd never told him no before," she said softly. "Are you mad at me?"

"At you?" he asked with a bitter sounding laugh. "No. Not at you. Maybe at myself a little bit." He pulled into the bar parking lot and found a spot in the back corner where it was dark. Molly could only make out his profile and the silver glint of his glasses when she unbuckled her seatbelt and turned to face him.

"Don't be mad, Coach Bob. Casey is just upset that I moved on and that he has a tiny penis, and he can't do anything about either of those."

She crawled across the seat, and even though she could tell he didn't really want to, he welcomed her in his lap. She straddled his thighs and kissed him, and after a few seconds, he was kissing her back. He was a little rough, and Molly was whining softly as his lips found her collar bones and her neck.

She rubbed herself against him. He was rock hard in his jeans, and she was already panting and clenching around nothing. She needed him, just like she always did. Her hands went to his zipper, and he didn't fight it as she pulled him free from his jeans.

"Bobby," she gasped when his hands eased her shirt up, and he leaned down to kiss her nipples. She was still wearing the new glasses rings she bought in his honor, and he was pulling them into his mouth one at a time and sucking. She struggled out of her shorts, only glancing around briefly to make sure nobody was watching. It didn't really matter though as long as she could feel him inside her. So she yanked her panties to the side and hissed in pleasure as she sank down around his cock.

"Molly," he grunted, brow creased as he looked at her. He shook his head before he grabbed her by the back of the neck and smashed his lips against hers. When Bob thrust up into her, she screamed, the sound muffled by his mouth. His unfastened belt buckle was rubbing against her clit, and she was already shaking.

"Oh my god," she squealed, pulling his hair for leverage as she rode him rough until she was cumming, back arched in pleasure. Then he grabbed her by the hips and fucked her until he was groaning and whining. His mouth found her breasts again as he filled her up with his cum. Molly held onto him while she shook. She hoped he didn't mind a mess on the front of his jeans, because she wasn't exactly sure how they'd make it out of the truck looking tidy.

"God damn it, Molly!" Bob growled, panting and tipping his head back against the seat. He was looking at the ceiling, trying to catch his breath. But he sounded annoyed, and now Molly just wanted to go get her car and go home for the night, because she felt like she was doing everything wrong.

"What?" she asked softly. He came. It wasn't like the quickie wasn't good for him. Hell, he was still inside her.

But when he tipped his head to look at her again, he looked so sad. She felt tears sting her eyes as he asked, "Is it just physical for you, Honey? Is that all this is?"

"What are you talking about?" she gasped, yanking her shirt down to cover herself. She reached for his hand, and he let her lace her fingers with his.

Bob took a deep breath and said, "I'm talking about me and you." He couldn't even meet her eyes. He was looking at her cheek as he added, "You initiate sex all the time. I need to know. Is this just physical to you?" He was gesturing between their bodies with his free hand, and Molly's heart plummeted into her stomach.

"Bob," she gasped. "No." She kissed him, but he kept his mouth firm. "No," she whispered against his lips. "It's not just physical."

"Molly, you know I can't say no to you," he said, voice raspy. "You're just going to keep messing me up every single time, aren't you? I don't even know what we're doing here. I don't know what this is. You've got me so confused about what you want."

"You!" she practically shouted. "I want you!"

He closed his eyes. "You're all over me like this. But I don't like the way my heart feels."

Molly sobbed. This was a new low, even for her. The man she loved was actually still inside her, and he was about to tell her he didn't want to see her anymore. "But Bob... I love how I feel when I'm with you."

He looked miserable. "I know. I know you said I can make you orgasm, and you said I'm big."

"Not like that!" she gasped. He was cradling his forehead in his hand as she added, "I've never felt this happy around a man before. Not just because you're good in bed, Bobby. I've never needed someone physically all the time like this, because I've never been in love like this. I love you."

He opened his eyes and softly asked. "You do?"

She nodded and swiped at her tears. "Of course I do. It's just... I've never said that before. I've never been in love before. Showing you how I feel physically is the easiest way for me to try to make you understand that."

She was shaking with unshed tears as Bob pulled her against him and kissed her ear and the side of her neck. "I'm sorry," she gasped. "I've never been with someone who loved me."

"I do, Molly. I love you. I want you to be my girlfriend," he whispered, running his big hands up and down her back.

"I kind of thought I already was," she replied with a soft laugh. She kissed his cheek. "But yeah, I definitely am now."

"Perfect." Bob's voice finally sounded calm, and this time when she kissed his lips, he returned every single one.

"I've been thinking it for weeks, but I was scared to say it," she told him, her eyes fluttering closed. "Only two other people alive have ever heard those words from me, so if you think you're not important, Coach Cute Glasses, you're wrong." She opened her eyes, kissed the tip of his nose and said, "I love you."

------------------------

Only a minimal mess was made when Molly eventually eased herself off of Bob's lap after telling him she loved him about a hundred more times and assuring him it was not just physical. Now they were both fully dressed and walking across the parking lot toward the bar entrance hand in hand.

"Is it bad that I'm a little nervous to meet the rest of your friends?" she whispered, looking up at him.

"Don't be nervous. If anything, I'm the one who's nervous, Honey. They're all going to flirt with you relentlessly and try to get me flustered."

Molly laughed as he held the door open for her, and she walked inside the noisy bar where the jukebox was blaring. "I'll just tell them we had sex in the parking lot ten minutes ago. Then they will be the ones who are flutered."

"Please don't," he groaned. "And, Mo? Is it okay if I just do this...." He reached for the front of the dress shirt she had on and did the middle button. He knew he was blushing as he said, "I don't really want these guys looking at you there."

She smirked. "You don't want to make them jealous?"

Bob's lips parted in a soft smile before he kissed her forehead. "Just look at your face, Mo. Gorgeous. They'll be plenty jealous without knowing about your piercings."

"Bob," she whined. "Stop being so perfect, okay? Perfect boyfriends get blowjobs whenever they want them."

He was still blushing as he led her toward the pool table where the other aviators, minus Bradley, were all hanging out. "There they are!" Nat said, hopping off of her stool and heading toward them. And then Bob had to watch every single one of the guys look Molly up and down like she was a dessert platter while she gave Nat a little hug.

"Holy shit," Jake said, eyes soft as he laughed. "Bob, come on. Phoenix said you were bringing the girl you're dating."

"Yeah," Bob confirmed, rubbing his forehead with his hand.

"Bob," Jake gasped. "She's fucking hot."

"I know," he replied as Molly reached for his hand. "Guys, this is Molly. My girlfriend."

You could have heard a pin drop in the corner of the bar. Nat sighed and rolled her eyes before kicking Payback in the shin. He stumbled forward and offered Molly his hand. "Hi, I'm Payback. Or Reuben."

"Hi," Molly replied, shaking his hand. "I kind of wish I had a fun call sign. I'm just Molly."

"Oof," Jake whispered. "I can't think of a few call signs for her."

"Don't," Bob pleaded, shooting him a look.

"She's a smokeshow, Bob," Jake told him with pride in his voice. "I don't know how you did it, but excellent job."

"Thanks," he muttered, watching Fanboy and Coyote flirt and laugh with her. A moment later, Nat was leading Molly up to the bar to get drinks, and Bob dug his wallet out of his pocket. He tried to hand it to her, but she just kissed his cheek and whispered, "I love you," before pushing it back against his chest.

"How the hell did you manage to pull that one?" Coyote asked, watching Molly walk away in her tight shorts. "I've got to know."

"Seriously, Bob," Fanboy chimed in. "I mean, not to be rude, man, but damn."

Now his self esteem was taking a bit of a hit again, but when Molly came back, she pushed him down onto a stool and perched herself on his thigh. She handed him one of the beers she was holding and kissed him. "I love you," she crooned with a soft smile. "The more I say it, the better it feels."

She sipped her drink as he wrapped his arm around her waist. Then they played a little pool and threw some darts, and Molly was never far from his arms. The guys were all still looking at him like he was some sort of magician, but she didn't seem to notice. She loved him. She kept telling him she loved him.

She said it right in front of Nat, and Bob watched his friend blush, too. Because now Molly was a little tipsy, and she had her hand on his abs under his shirt. "Bobby, we should go home soon. I love you, and I wanna fuck you."

"Mo," he gasped, kissing the top of her head. "I love you, too. But everyone else can hear you, Honey."

"I don't care," she replied, licking his neck before she smiled at the guys. "You don't care if I tell Bob I love him and wanna fuck him, do you?"

They all looked at her, wide eyed and shaking their heads.

"See, Lieutenant Floyd? They don't care."

Bob lasted another five minutes before she was dragging him out to the parking lot, ready to go home.

--------------------------

Bob had Molly draped across him in bed on Sunday morning. The sky outside looked a little stormy, so they used that as an excuse to not move. "Let's just say put," he whispered, running his fingers along her arm. Goosebumps broke out in their wake, and she sighed.

"Not even worth moving when we're so comfortable," she told him, squeezing his side.

He was feeling so much better now about the way Molly responded to him physically. Now he knew that she loved him. They were in a relationship with a label. He thought he'd be able to enjoy the physical romance as much as he was enjoying the emotional romance now.

Then their quiet cuddling was interrupted by his phone going off four times in a row with new text messages. Bob kissed her forehead and murmured, "Just when I was ready to stay right here until it was time for you to go to work."

Molly giggled and rolled off of him to reach for his phone. "I have to pee anyway." She handed him his phone and his glasses, and Bob watched her sashay out of his room completely naked.

He groaned as he opened a bunch of messages from his sister Rebecca. "Oh no." He never responded to her about going to Piper's birthday party which was now just six days away. Really, he only wanted to go if Molly went with him, but asking her to meet his family was stressing him out.

"What's wrong?" she asked, already climbing back into bed with him. His eyes were trained on her nipples as she eased herself down against his chest. The way her piercings pressed against him somehow calmed him now. He was just so used to her being here.

"Do you want to go to Piper's birthday party with me?" he blurted out.

She ran her fingers through his hair with a smile. "When is it? I might have to change my work schedule."

"Saturday afternoon. Up in San Bernardino. And look, we haven't been dating very long, and my whole family is going to be there, so if you don't want to go, Honey, I totally understand."

"Oh," she gasped softly. "You want me to meet your family, Uncle Bob?"

He closed his eyes, unwilling to lie to her. "Desperately." He cracked one eye open to find her grinning at him before easing herself down his body.

"Perfect boyfriends get blowjobs," she reminded him before disappearing beneath the covers and wrapping her lips around him. She really must have thought he was perfect based on the way she got him off. And when she was done, she licked his tongue and told him she'd go to the birthday party.

But when Saturday came, Bob found out that Molly had to give up her daytime shift to accommodate the party. She tried to shrug it off when he picked her up. "I'm just a little worried about making my rent with a day short of pay, but it'll be fine," she told him, slipping into his truck with the gift she insisted on buying. "I have money in savings."

Bob was about to tell her he'd pay her rent, but she leaned across the seat and kissed every viable thought out of his brain. So he put his truck in gear while Molly was in charge of the music, and the ninety minute drive to his parents' house felt like nothing when he was with her.

When he pulled down their driveway, Molly was wiping her palms on her sundress. "I'm a little nervous," she admitted. "I've never met parents before." Once again, Bob couldn't understand how he was lucky enough to be Molly's first for so many things.

"They'll love you. My sister Rachel is ridiculous. You'll like her. And I'll be with you the entire time."

She nodded and crawled out his door behind him and into his arms. "If they don't like me, I'm blaming you."

The introductions were even more shocking than the night at the Hard Deck in that Bob's entire family was looking at Molly with mixed expressions. Rebecca was excited to see her again since they had already met. Even Piper gave Molly a quick hug. But Bob's parents and his middle sister were looking at him with his arm around Molly with barely concealed shock.

"I don't think they like me," Molly whispered, trying to dig her feet in.

"That's not it, Mo," he promised. "It's more like they can't believe I didn't make you up."

When Molly shook hands with his mom and then his dad and then Rachel, they all glanced at him. "Welcome!" his mom said. "The way Bob speaks about you, well... you seemed too good to be true, Molly!"

She shrugged with a little laugh. "Well, I'm just regular, old me."

"No, that's not true," Rachel replied with a smirk. "Bob must be ready to buy a ring or something, because the last time he brought a girl home, she dumped him the next day. And he vowed to never bring another one unless he was going to marry her."

Molly turned to look at Bob where he stood behind her. "Thanks, Rachel," he said with a fake smile and an unspoken promise that she would pay for that later. "Your mind is like a steel trap, isn't it?"

Rachel just shrugged and ate some potato chips. "Just keeping you honest. Anyway, Molly, it's really nice to meet you. I'll see you at your wedding."

Bob wanted to disappear. Betrayed by his own sister. He always did like Rebecca better. But then Molly surprised him by saying, "I'll let you know the color for the bridesmaids dresses."

Rachel smiled at her. And then his dad was taking her on a tour of their house. And then his mom was laughing as Molly told a funny story about a mishap in the emergency room. And then Molly was running around outside with the kids.

"Bob, where did you find her?" his mom asked, grabbing him by the forearm and shaking him.

"At tee ball," he replied softly, watching Molly laughing as Piper sat down on her lap.

"Please, bring her back again. For a longer visit. When I have more time to talk to her."

"I will, mom."

---------------------------

Molly was exhausted when she said her goodbyes to Bob's family. The kids had worn her out all afternoon. But when his mom pulled her in for a hug, she felt like crying. She couldn't remember the last time she got a mom hug from anyone other than her own sister. And it felt so good, she ended up hugging her back for probably way longer than was actually appropriate.

"Thanks," Molly whispered. "Thanks for having me."

When his mom pulled away and looked at her, she said, "Bob promised me he'd bring you back again soon. I know he must be very serious about you, so hopefully we won't have to wait too long for another visit."

Molly swallowed past the lump in her throat, and she didn't know what compelled her to say anything as she whispered, "I love your son," like some sort of a lunatic. It must have been all the mom hugs that made her feel weak.

But he mom replied by pulling her in for another hug before Bob took her by the hand and led her out to his truck. It was getting dark, and the ride back to San Diego would get them in late. But Molly already knew she was welcome to crash with Bob for the night. She knew he would want her to.

But she was still surprised when Bob started rambling as he merged onto the highway. "I know it's probably too soon. And maybe I shouldn't even say anything. But I just can't seem to stop thinking about it. About how we never spend the night apart. Even when you work overnight, you end up in my bed in the morning. Or I end up at your place, just waiting for you to get home so we can go to sleep together." He paused, and she reached for his hand. He glanced her way with a nervous smile before he blurted out, "Molly, do you want to move in with me?"

"Oh," she gasped, delighted by the idea of if. In love with the idea of handing him his glasses every morning and knowing he would make her breakfast. Being together to binge watch documentaries and eat sushi. "Yes."

--------------------------

Moving in together! So, Bob is a stud. Was he always a stud, or does Molly bring it out in him? Thanks to @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls and everyone who bugged me to make Molly and Bob a thing!

PART 7

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#bob floyd imagine #bob floyd fic #bob floyd #bob floyd fluff #robert floyd fic #robert bob floyd #bob floyd x oc #bob floyd fanfiction #robert floyd fluff #robert floyd fanfiction #robert floyd x oc #top gun imagine #top gun maverick imagine #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick fanfiction #roosterforme #the curveball #batting practice #bob floyd smut

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sevcasejay1chicago · 1 year

Text

Drugged- TeenSister!Casey/ BigBrother!Matt Casey

Authors note: I honestly can’t remember who requested this as I have been working on this for a while now. This is out of my comfort zone for writing, but I gave it my best shot. I hope you enjoy and this finds the person who asked for it!

Warning: implied/ suspicion of being roofied, mentions vomiting, cursing

Summary: After getting coffee, you show signs of being roofied. Your big brother, God father, and your firehouse family come to the rescue.

~~~~~~~~

On your way to the firehouse from school, you dropped by your favorite coffee shop. You’re a frequent customer, coming in once or twice a day, so you knew almost all the staff and most of the usual patrons. Now that you think about it, it’s very rare for you to see anyone that isn’t a regular. You intended to make the stop quickly, seeing as the snow was coming down heavier by the minute. Many of the roads were already thoroughly frozen over as the unexpected snow storm came into Chicago. You ran into the bathroom quickly, leaving your bag at the counter after ordering your drink.

Once you emerged, you thanked the cashier, taking your bag and coffee before heading out the door. By the time you reached the firehouse, a few blocks away, you had just began taking long swigs your coffee as it finally cooled enough not to scald your tongue. You separated from the group that you joined, waving at a few familiar faces that walked into the apartments across the street as you made your way into the firehouse. What you failed to realize was the stranger, who had to be at least in his mid-twenties, who had followed your little group to the intersection.

You greeted your god father and the rest of Squad, who was sitting at the table cleaning tools as they waited for a call. You hugged everyone, getting a kiss on your temple from Kelly, before retreating into the much warmer firehouse. Though Kelly had on a couple heaters in the bay, the chill still seemed to leak in.

As you made your way into the common room, you began to feel lightheaded. You smiled and greeted everyone, acting like nothing was wrong as you made your way into the kitchen. At this point, you had consumed most of your coffee, so you figured you were either dehydrated or overheated, so you made a beeline for a bottle of water. You pulled one out of the fridge and attempted to open it when Matt came in.

“Hey sis. Need some help there?” Matt asked, slightly teasing but also slightly concerned. You could always open things on your own and joked that you didn’t need a man’s help. When you nodded, Matt went to take the bottle, but you dropped it.

You bent down to pick it up, only to pop back up and black out, falling straight into Matt. You could hear the commotion that your little scene made, feel Matt lower you to the ground, and heard multiple voices calling your name. Upon opening your eyes, everything looked hazy.

Matt was cradling you in his arms, leaning into your line of sight. “Y/n. Hey. Talk to me. Can you hear me?” Matt kept asking, looking around at your family in search of Sylvie or Violet before coming back to meet your eyes.

You groaned, reaching up to rub your eyes as you tried to focus on anything at all. You heard running footsteps before Kelly and Sylvie came into your line of sight.

“What happened?” Brett questioned, immediately helping Kelly shed your coat and cut your shirt open before hooking you up to the portable monitor that Kelly had grabbed from her when they ran in.

“She just collapsed.” Matt said, holding you up slightly in his arms.

Kelly reached a hand up, brushing your hair back as he checked for a fever. “No fever. What’s wrong squirt?” Kelly asked, swiping your flyaways back and out of your eyes.

“Tired and dizzy. Don’t feel good.” You slurred, clutching your eyes shut as the slight movement Matt made had your head swimming.

“When did this start?” Sylvie asked, continuing to check you over.

“Just now.” You said, reaching for Kelly to find some sort of stability. “What is happening? Help me.” You whimpered, squeezing the hand Kelly took in his.

“Shhhh. Just relax.” Kelly soothed, running a hand over your forehead.

“What’s going on?” You heard the Chief ask, walking into the common room with some news only to be met with a whole other situation.

“She just collapsed. Something’s wrong.” Hermann answered, motioning to you still laid in Matt’s arms as Sylvie tended to you and Kelly helped attempt to sooth your shaking form.

“Well, I came to tell everyone that we have been grounded. Nobody leaves until we get the all clear.” Boden replied. “Can we treat her here Brett?” Boden asked, concerned for his youngest niece.

Brett nodded as she looked between Kelly and Matt who gave her a reassuring look. “We can monitor her here. She doesn’t seem to be in any danger. Her stats are a bit lower than I would like, but I think some fluids could help.” Brett replied, a look of pure concentration on her face.

Kelly quietly cursed as he processed the information. “Brett. I’ve seen this before. I think she’s been drugged.” Kelly said, taking the pin light she then offered to look into your eyes.

Your eyes immediately squeezed shut at the invasion of light. You turned your head and tried to hide it in Matt’s stomach. “Nooo. Please dad. No more. Make her stop.” You moaned, taking the hand Kelly had released and covering your face.

Everyone looked at each other at your words. Your dad has been dead for at least 8 years and you haven’t seen your mom since. Kelly handed the penlight back to Sylvie as Violet nudged her way into the little circle everyone had created around you.

“I’ve got the fluids and the oxygen just incase she has been roofied.” Violet announced, immediately working on getting a line as Matt tried to soothe you. You were moaning and writhing under all the hands that were around you. You were completely unaware of the situation now, only scared that your mom was coming to take you from your dad.

“Sweetheart. It’s alright. It’s Matt. I’m right here. Nothing is going to happen. I won’t let anything happen.” Matt soothed, wiping your face as tears spilled and mixed with the sweat that was starting to bead on your skin. ”Brett. She’s getting pretty clammy and pale.” Matt said, taking a cloth that Hermann had grabbed to wipe the sweat and tears away.

Brett nodded and looked over your face before making brief eye contact with Matt. “Y/n. Sweetie? Talk to me. How do you feel?” Brett asked, looking at the monitor before moving up toward your head to get in your line of sight.

“Not good. Tummy hurts. Hot and cold.” You slurred, reaching for Matt now that Sylvie wasn’t holding your arm.

Brett nodded and took her stethoscope out. “How’s your breathing? Your vitals are a bit lower than normal, but not dangerous. What do you feel?” Brett asked before she listened to your lungs. They were raspy and sounded strained.

“It’s hard.” You slurred, taking your hand from clutching Matt’s shirt to cover your tummy. “Matty. Don’t feel good.” You whimpered, looking up at your big brother.

Matt cooed and ran his hand through your hair once again. “I know baby. I know. You gonna be sick?” Matt asked, looking at the paramedics and your godfather who was knelt next to your shoulder.

You nodded as your eyes welled with tears. You hate throwing up more than anything in the world. Vomiting is the one thing you are terrified of. Your family scrambled to find anything to use as a receptacle as your face paled further. Matt, ever the big brother, immediately cupped his hands under your chin just incase, but Chief was quick to grab the trash can just next to the door as the two paramedics helped Matt and Kelly roll you onto your side and over the trash can at your first heave.

Some of the firefighters left the room as you got sick, not able to handle the situation. Cruz, Gallo, Hermann, Ritter, Stella and Mouch stayed around to be of any assistance. Kelly and Matt were cooing and murmuring words of comfort as Violet and Sylvie spoke between each other and the Chief held the trash can in place.

“It’s okay. Your gonna be okay. Just get it up.” Kelly encouraged, supporting your back and holding you steady.

“Okay baby. There we go. It’s alright sweetheart. Shhhhh.” Matt whispered, attempting to calm you as you sobbed between heaves. He held the side of your head to keep you stabilized and rubbed between your shoulder blades. “Breathe. You gotta breathe.” Matt reminded you as he heard you struggle to catch your breath.

“Her oxygen is dropping.” Brett muttered to herself and Violet. “Kidd. Go grab some Zofran from the rig. Maybe a couple rounds of epi just to be on the safe side.” Brett ordered, not even looking up at Stella.

“You got it.” Stella hollered, already running out into the apparatus floor.

“Brett?” The Chief said to get her attention. Once Sylvie looked up and made eye contact, he continued. “We still got this?” He asked.

Brett thought for a moment. “Here’s the deal. If her stats drop dramatically, we gotta roll one way or another. Ice storm or no ice storm. I am going to do everything in my power to control this. If I have to use the epi, we will need to get her to med.” Brett explained, giving it to them straight. “Right now, her heart rate is 64, oxygen is 90 and blood pressure is 112/73. If she drops below a heart rate of 50, oxygen of 85, or blood pressure of 90/60, I won’t be equipped to control this situation much longer.”

Everyone nodded, but stayed quiet as they thought and watched the monitor. Kidd wasted no time in gathering her supplies and slid next to Violet, handing her the medications and syringe. Violet was quick to administer the Zofran as Mouch held the bag of fluids up for her to access the line a bit easier.

“Guys. She’s fading.” Kelly warned, feeling you get heavy in his hands. Your tremors ramped up as you slumped back into Kelly’s hands and Matt’s lap.

“Cruz. Go get the squad ready to go. Ritter and Gallo, grab everyone you can to help Cruz get ready. Get snow chains on the squad and get the plow on the buggy. We gotta roll as soon as possible.” The Chief instructed, reaching around the small trash can to push flyaways back from your face and get a good look at you. “She’s out Matt.”

“Kelly, keep her on her side. We gotta keep her in a recovery position. She’s still vomiting a bit.” Brett noted, giving the order as she looked at your face. Your eyes were clenched shut and your face was pinched in pain. Small whimpers escaped as you wheezed and struggled to get good air.

“Shhh sweetheart. It’s okay. We got you. Matty has you.” Matt whispered, helping stabilize your head as Kelly and Brett turned you onto your left side. Matt has always protected you, but he couldn’t stop this.

“We got her man.” Kelly soothed, patting Matt on the shoulder. “And we have you princess. It’s gonna be okay.” Kelly murmured in your ear, rubbing your back.

“Hermann, go grab the backboard for me. We can put her on there to transfer her, but we gotta try to keep her in the recovery position.” Brett instructed, turning to look at your vitals. “We gotta get ready to move. She dropping fast. I’m going to try the epi to see if I can get her heart rate back up.” Brett announced to what was left of your family. “Keep fighting for us sweetie. We gotcha.” Brett muttered, taking the epi from Violet and administered it directly to your Iv.

As soon as Hermann got the back board and filled in the group on the progress being made on the apparatus floor, they began to transfer you. Your heart rate and blood pressure were coming up with the combination of epi and fluids, but your oxygen was staying around 88. The guys were putting on the final pieces of equipment when they got you loaded onto the truck.

“Here. Get this oxygen on her.” Violet instructed Kelly, handing him the mask.

Kelly gently placed the oxygen mask over your face and grabbed his phone while he heard the chief letting dispatch know the situation. Kelly quickly dialed the one person he knew would get you immediate help. “April. I have a situation.” Kelly said as soon as the nurse answered.

“What’s wrong?” April replied.

“Y/n’s been roofied. We are pulling out of the house now. We have her loaded onto the squad with Boden clearing a path. We pushed epi and Zofran and we have her on oxygen and fluids. She isn’t doing too hot. We are gonna need a room and some help when we get there.” Kelly said, placing his phone between his shoulder and ear so that he could help turn you back on your side.

“I’m on it. ETA?” April asked, immediately running around the desk to Maggie and writing ‘Y/n roofied. Trauma 2?’ On a piece of paper as she waited for Kelly’s reply.

“8 minutes. The snows bad.” Kelly replied, looking out the window as the sirens blared and the lights flashed, reflecting off of every surface and every snowflake.

“Got it. Bring her into Trauma 2. Maggie, Will, Nat and I will be waiting for you.” April instructed as she moved to grab supplies and get ready for you.

“Thanks April.” Kelly sighed before hanging up. Then he dialed the one detective he knew he could count on.

“Halstead.” Jay answered, not even bothering to look at his phone before he answered.

“Jay, it’s Kelly. I need your help man.” Kelly said, looking at you in his best friend’s arms.

“What’s up?” Jay replied, turning his full attention to the conversation at hand.

“I’m fairly certain that y/n has been roofied. We are on our way to med right now in the squad. I need you to find the asshole that did this to her. She had a coffee from y/f/cs (your favorite coffee shop), so I would start there.” Kelly informed the detective, rubbing a hand on the back of his neck.

“The cup still at the station?” Jay asked, standing and grabbing his badge and weapon from his desk as he made his way to tap Hailey’s desk and lead her to Voight’s office.

“Yeah. Be careful man. It’s nasty out here.” Kelly replied. “And thanks. Keep me posted.”

“Right back at you man. Give her our love. We will find this son of a bitch.” Jay reassured before hanging up the phone.

No matter what, you had a family that would never let you down. No snow storm could keep them from getting you help and finding whoever hurt you.

#one chicago #jay halstead #matt casey #one chicago x reader #kelly severide #fluff #matt casey x reader #jay halstead x reader #comfort #kelly severide x reader #emeto tw #emeto #matthew casey #detective jay halstead #one Chicago fire family

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cottoncandy-cult · 7 months

Text

Showering Together (ZFBFS)

(Y/n) sighed softly as her and Zack re-entered their home, they had decided to go for a walk in the woods that night since it was a full moon and the nearby field looked pretty under the light. At least it did until a heavy storm came rolling in, freezing rain pelting them as they had to do a 5 minute run just to get back. They were both soaked to the bone, though (Y/n) had it a little worse since she had wore shorts and a tank top. Her whole body trembled from the cold, both had their arms wrapped around themselves. "We need to get out of these clothes and take a hot shower..." (Y/n) spoke softly between soft panted breaths, taking shaken steps into the doorway and slipping out of her shoes. Her soaked socks plopped against the floor with each further step, Zack watched her warily as he noticed she was swaying a little when she walked. Though when she almost dropped Zack was forced to lunge forward to catch the girl, he had easily picked her up like a princess and held her close to his chest. "You should go first, I'll shower after." He spoke gruffly as he made his slow and aching way across the living room to the stairs, his shower had been acting up for a bit and he had been forced to use her shower since the public bathroom was just a toilet and sink.

"Zack I'm fine... Besides you're covered in bandages and soaked all the way through. You need it worse." She spoke up, feeling guilty as she could tell he was sore and freezing as well. Zack huffed and glared down at her, though it only made her smile a bit. He had grown to worry about her even though he showed it differently, his love was headstrong, and she adored it. "You literally almost fucking collapsed, you need in there more than I do." He made his way up the steps, both still shaking though the heat of the home did help a bit even though it made their skin burn some and their muscles ached as if they were unthawing. "Why don't we just take one together, my shower is big enough..." She blushed deeply though it wasn't noticeable as her cheeks had already been red from the cold, she and Zack had walked in on each other many times and though it was still a little embarrassing they had somewhat grown used to it. She had also helped him bandage his torso, so he was more comfortable showing his scars.

Zack's eyes widened as he gazed down her, she could tell he was blushing even though she couldn't see it. "It's not like we haven't seen each other, and besides we've been together for a little while now." Zack swallowed deeply as he looked away from her when they made it to the top of the stairs, he remained quiet for a few minutes before giving a sigh and speaking softly. "I mean I guess you're right... Plus it is cold as hell.." This made the (H/c) head smile as she leaned up and pressed a kiss to his cheek, nuzzling into the crook of his neck. It only took a few moments for them to reach her room, he shifted a bit to readjust her. She had been cradled in his left arm, her own arms wrapping around his neck as he opened her bedroom door. He found the light switch with ease and was relieved to see her bathroom door was already open, from there he was quick to gently kick the door shut and carry her to the bathroom. He flipped the light switch and immediately set her on the toilet, they were shaking a bit less by this point but the two still deeply wanted this shower.

"Give me a sec and I'll get the water going." Zack turned his back to her as he began to fiddle with the knobs of the tub, meanwhile (Y/n) decided to get up and prepare for the shower. By stripping down and brushing out her hair, that way it wouldn't be too tangled later. Being the mature woman she was, she wasn't too embarrassed to be seen like this, though that didn't mean she wasn't feeling a little shy. But that shyness was overshadowed by her desire to see his response, she knew he was still quite innocent when it came to the saucier side of relationships. She started with her tank top and bra, starting the wet pile of cloth as she set them gently on the floor to avoid splashing that way, she didn't have to clean up too much water. By the time the shower was ready she had completely stripped and now stood behind him completely bare, her legs crossed slightly as one arm folded across her torso to hold the forearm of the other. When Zack turned around his eyes widened, this being the first time he was in a situation where he was able to take in her bare form.

His heterochromic eyes raked over her form, slowly dragging up her legs to her beautiful thighs and hips. He found himself almost breathless at the sight before him as his gaze moved up her navel and torso before locking on her face, he bit his lip as he looked for something to say. "Go ahead and hop in, adjust it if you need to... I'll join you in a second." He mumbled softly, looking away from her once more as she approached him. She gave him a sweet smile as she moved past him, stopping for a moment to give him a loving kiss. He almost melted as he relaxed into the intimate action, something about this situation made their normal affection feel more intense and he almost wondered if she could feel it. (Y/n) stepped into the shower, a sigh of relief escaping her as the warm water pelted her cold and achy body from several sides. She moved to the shower bench and sat down, leaning forward to stretch her back a bit as the water worked out the knots in her muscles. She loved to take showers after a long day whether it was cold or stressful, it was a simple kind of joy and content.

The sound of the shower door closing drew her attention up, Zack approached her as he was now completely bare. The tall male avoided eye contact as he sat beside her on the bench, his hand gently moving to hold hers. She understood how new and different this all was to him, hell he was still getting used to everything and feeling his way through their regular relationship. This display of sweetness made her fawn over him, so she slid closer to him and snuggled up to his side. He adjusted his arm to wrap around her waist, he was looking away but wore a soft smile. A genuine one that only she had ever witnessed, the one that made her heart burst within her chest. "I love you Zack..." The words had slipped from her without a thought as her head rested on his shoulder, her eyes locked on his face. His own dual-colored orbs had widened before turning to her, finally making eye contact. At first his face was unreadable as he simply stared at her, but that smile soon returned. He said nothing as he leaned down and locked lips with her, turning slightly as he pulled her into his lap. He held her close as their bodies practically melted together, when their lips separated his forehead rested against hers. "I love you too..." His words were soft, but they hit her hard, she had wrapped her arms around his shoulders and buried her face in his neck. Zack simply smiled as one arm wrapped around her lower back, the other wrapping around her shoulders as he gently tangled his fingers in her hair. This shower felt intimate, symbolic of the new step they had taken together, and a new degree of trust formed between them. They sat in silence, holding each other as the warmth of the water had them both trapped in their own little world, a world of love and filled only with each other.

#candy cult vault #fluff #x reader #fem reader #x fem reader #angels of death #zack foster boyfriend scenario #zack foster x reader #zack foster #isaac foster boyfriend scenarios #isaac foster x reader #isaac foster

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running-with-the-feels · 2 months

Note

Raiden:(summoning himself into Kuai Liangs home) You and I have unfinished business involving your sad excuse of a brother and "daughter". They broke in and-

Kuai Liang: Took back Kung Laos stuff. I'm aware. He had nothing. Now question is, why are you here?

Raiden: to settle this; you dare cross a God, and I shall make you regret that very decision-

Frost: (walked in to see what was happening)

Raiden: Starting with her!(he electrocuted her)

Sorry this is dumb you don't have to interact I'm just into it

This is amazing and I love it

Kuai Liang, Bi-Han, Hanzo and Kung Lao battle Raiden and manage to force him to flee and Kuai Liang immediately turns to where Frost is laying limp on the floor

Kuai Liang, trying not to panic: Frost? Frost, can you hear me?

Hanzo, turning to Kung Lao: Go get the healers, now

Kung Lao: I don't know where they-

Bi-Han: I'll go with you

Kuai Liang, getting louder as tears pool in his eyes: Frost, I need you to open your eyes for me, okay? Frost?!

Hanzo, kneeling beside him and desperately trying to keep his cool: She's going to be fine, Kuai Liang, I promise, the healers are already on their way

Kuai Liang, crying as he lifts her into his lap: Bǎo bèi?! Bǎo bèi, please, open your eyes!!

Hanzo, cradling Kuai Liang's face and trying to get him to focus: Look at me, look at me! She's going to be fine

Kuai Liang, more terrified than he's ever been in his life: She's not breathing, Hanzo, why isn't she breathing?

Hanzo, moving Kuai Liang's hand so he can feel the movement of Frost's chest: She is, it's just very faint but her heartbeat is still strong, okay? She's going to be fine

Kuai Liang, holding her tighter: My daughter, he tried to kill my daughter

Hanzo, holding back his own tears: And he failed, she's still alive

Healers run in, pulling Frost form Kuai Liang's grasp

Kuai Liang, panicking bc he thinks its another attack: BACK OFF! I WON'T LET YOU-!

Hanzo comes up behind him, pinning his arms to his sides as he holds Kuai Liang tight

Hanzo: It's okay, those are the healers, they're here to help

Kuai Liang: Let me go!

Hanzo: I can't, you have to let them do their work, you have to

Kuai Liang, tears still streaming down his face: Frost!

Hanzo: I know, love, I know how hard this is, but you have to let them help her

Kuai Liang collapses, the two kneeling on the floor once more as Kuai Liang keeps his eyes fixed on his daughter, Hanzo holding him tight and muttering reassurances

Bi-Han stares from the doorway, looking like he's seen a ghost as fury swamps him

Bi-Han: Raiden will pay for this, even if I have to bring his bloody body to Kuai Liang myself

Kung Lao: Might be easier to just take his head

Bi-Han: No. After this? The only people who get to kill that man are Kuai Liang and Frost, whatever it takes I will facilitate that

#hell hath no fury like a cryomancer who's loved one you almost killed #Raiden they are going to fuck you up #kuai liang #frost mk #kuai liang is frost's dad #bi han #kung lao #hanzo hasashi #mortal kombat 11 #kung lao kicked out au

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honeybeezgobzzzzz · 9 months

Text

𓃮 Even the Sun Influences the Tide: Chapter Twenty-Two

Even the Sun Influences the Tide: After the death of your foster brother, King T’Challa, you had spent much of your year of mourning in isolation. When your mother gathers you and your sister to end your mourning period, you encounter the newest threat to Wakanda: Namor. You don’t know what to think of Namor, but you do know one thing: he probably shouldn’t be making trips to see you at your beach hut.

Warnings: Non-Graphic Birth Scene, K’uk’ulkan is Smitten with His Daughter.

To Note: Namor/K’uk’ulkan x Fem!Reader, I Tried To Make The Yucatec Maya & Xhosa Translations/Traditions As Accurate As I Can Get.

Word Count: ~2.6k

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When you had discussed the birthing of your child, you had hesitated at the suggestion of an underwater birth. It wasn’t that you were against it, you just feared the unknown of your baby and questioned whether or not she would be able to breathe underwater, by gills or osmosis. You had spent many hours pacing back and forth while Namora tried to calm you down. Ultimately it was Tlalli who had sat you down and managed to reassure you. Which is how you ended up floating beneath the deep waves, K’uk’ulkan wrapped around your back and letting you squeeze his hands in a white knuckled grip.

You were trying not to break his fingers with your grip, but each time a contraction hit you your knuckles clenched in a strained grip while you tried not to scream. Why the fuck did women get pregnant when it hurt this much!? K’uk’ulkan pressed his face into your neck and whispered encouraging words in your ear, trying to soothe and lessen your pain.

“Focus on your breathing, In k'iino’,” He softly called, feeling your entire body quiver. You felt like snapping back at him that you didn’t know how to, when you breathed through your skin now, but your next contraction stole any words you might say. A strangled moan echoed through the water as Akna, a renowned Talokanil midwife, checked the progress of your labor.

“Tell me I’m close because I just want this baby out of me,” You rasped out. Akna checked and clicked her tongue, eyeing you.

“Would you like to start pushing, my queen.” You nearly felt like shouting at her.

“YES!” You howled, your fingers clenching K’uk’ulkan’s once more. You were half convinced that your body was going to split in half with the way pain was erupting along your flesh. To K’uk’ulkan, you screams of pain, the way you clenched his fingers, and the writhes of your body were something he never wished to see or hear again. Why did something so beautiful as bringing a child to life, have to cause you so much pain?

You couldn’t quite tell how long you had been pushing, trying to get this baby out of your body, but her first squeal was music to your ears. You would have collapsed back against K’uk’ulkan’s chest if you hadn’t been floating underwater, but he did cradle your limb body with his entire devotion. He nuzzled your neck, telling how proud he was while Akna swiftly handed you your daughter. The umbilical was still attached as she was pressed into your chest, but all you could stare at was her ankles.

“We are in so much trouble,” You whispered in horror, clutching your daughter to your chest and trembling in realization. K’uk’ulkan was immediately standing to attention at your words.

“What is it, In k'iino’, what is wrong?” He urgently pressed, his eyes glossing over both you and the newborn infant cradled within your arms. You carefully pulled up one of her legs to reveal a winged ankle.

“How am I supposed to keep track of her when she can fly!?” You whispered, your gaze turning to his in horror. “Ancestors, Ch'ah Toh Almehen, she could—“ K’uk’ulkan took your chin and pressed his thumb against your lower lip.

“Calm down, Y/N,” He reassured you, sliding his free arm to your waist. “You think you are alone in raising our child?” You blinked at him, worry still clear on your face. K’uk’ulkan smiled at you before pointing out one glaring fact that surely would reassure you. “See how our daughter breathes, my queen? She is one with the ocean and our people will gladly help watch over her. She has the sea to guide her.”

Looking down at your daughter, you did notice that she was breathing perfectly fine despite having no gills upon her neck and shoulders. Snuggled against your chest, your daughter gazed at you with eyes just like yours and skin and hair just like her fathers. She was sleepily blinking at you, the little wings on her feet feebly flapping. All that worry over nothing. You lifted a finger and traced her cheek, smiling when her little baby fist reached for yours. The moment tiny fingers wrapped around one of your own, dread filled you once more.

“Ch'ah Toh Almehen?” You asked, your head ever so slowly turning to face your husband. He was frowning once again.

“What is it?”

“I’m pretty sure she got your strength.” You replied meekly, trying not to wince at the strength of the fingers grasping your own. It was going to take all of Talokan to raise this little one, you were sure of it.

“Be at peace, Namora,” You spoke while your hands secured the fabric around your chest and back. “There is no place safer than Wakanda and our home, and should anything happen? We both know the little devil will just take off on her own.” You could have sworn Namora was reliving Yuritzi’s last incident in which she had managed to sneak out and fly off. It had taken at least an hour to track her down and return to your arms. That was only one of the many incidents that had happened since she had learned how to fly.

How ironic that your daughter learned how to fly before walking.

“Besides,” You continued. “You’ll be by my side the entire time and Abha will be with us as well.” Abha, an Orca that had taken to you, was obsessed with Yuritzi and at this point you were fairly certain that the deadly marine animal would kill to protect your daughter.

K’uk’ulkan was already in Wakanda at Birnin Zana with Attuma, meeting with Ramonda for a yearly alliance talk. You hadn’t been home since you left after the battle that nearly killed you, and it was time to visit your family. Certainly it was time that you introduced your daughter to Ramonda and Shuri. You had been on the fence on when to visit them.

For one, your daughter habitually broke out of her crib and cleverly evaded Zyanya and Tlalli who helped you raise her. K’uk’ulkan found her escapes to be endearing and funny, then you had pointed out that she might be able to slip out of the safety of her home. The look of horror on his face had made you laugh as he quickly called for Attuma to discuss making a tracking device for the little princess.

“Very well, my queen,” Namora answered bowing her head as Yuritzi kicked her feet against your stomach and you grunted.

“Yuritzi, In sáasil,” (my light) You sighed, wincing as your stomach ached. “Easy with the kicks, na' is not as indestructible as you.” (Mama) Yuritzi beamed at you, showing off her few teeth she had. No one could ever stay mad at her when she smiled, it was her secret weapon that had Talokan’s toughest warriors melting. Double checking that Yuritzi was strapped firmly to your chest and wouldn’t escape, you looked to Namora. “Shall we?”

“Yes.” You both moved to the water and began swimming to the mouth of the cavern. From there you met up with Abha, and began the trek across the ocean to Wakanda. You could tell you were getting close to the boarder of the country you once called home, hearing the subtle hum of the scanners that now graced the waterway entrance. K’uk’ulkan was a lesson well learned.

Approaching the barrier, Abha surfaced to reveal your and Namora’s forms to the border guards. The both stood to attention and you called out to them.

“Would you care to let us through?” You requested, keeping one hand on Yuritzi’s back in the event she got excited and wanted a look of her own. The guards immediately recognized who you were, of course, they would never forget their princess’s face… but they clearly weren’t expecting you. Regardless of their surprise, you were allowed through and surely your mother and the Dora Milaje would be notified. You’d never be able to surprise your mother. The question was… would she inform K’uk’ulkan?

Abha swam up to the fish market and parked herself near the other Orca’s currently playing with some children.

“They are having the time of their life.” You commented as you and Namora slipped from Abha’s side. Namora raised an eyebrow.

“The children?”

“The Orca’s,” You replied dryly with a soft giggle. While you and Namora were watching the children and Orca’s, who Abha was quick to join with a squeal and click, Ayo came striding over flanked by two other Dora.

“Greetings, Queen Y/N,” Aye spoke formally. “Queen Ramonda welcomes you back to Wakanda.”

“Hello Ayo, good to see you again,” You greeted warmly, rubbing Yuritzi’s back as she squirmed around to try and look at who you were speaking to. Ayo nodded her chin before her dark eyes dropped to the bundle of squirming limbs strapped to your chest.

“And who is this?” She questioned. You smiled and looked down at Yuritzi who was giving you a pleading face mixed with one of impatience. You stroked your fingers through her dark hair.

“This is my daughter, Yuritzi,” You explained, “and she is a little escape artist with a proclivity to fly away from her own mother.” As you spoke, Yuritzi beamed at you and squealed, several babbling sounds erupting from her mouth. “Would you mind directing us to where K’uk’ulkan and my mother are?”

“It would be our pleasure,” Ayo agreed before turning around and leading you to a new royal talon fighter. Namora was distrustful of the fighter, and you had to reassure her that it would not harm her, before she even entertained the idea of allowing you and Yuritzi on board. Even then, with you sitting calmly and playing with your daughter as the ship brought you to the citadel, Namora remained on high alert. By the time the royal talon fighter touched down outside the citadel, Yuritzi was passed out on your chest, positively exhausted from the brief moment of excitement from being away from home for the first time.

“Queen Ramonda is meeting with K’uk’ulkan and Attuma within the council chambers,” Ayo explained as you walked down familiar halls.

“And my sister?” You asked, your thoughts wandering to Shuri.

“The princess is in her lab.” The warrior explained, coming to a stop just outside the doors. “You should know, Queen Y/N, I do not think that Queen Ramonda nor K’uk’ulkan will be happy that you are here.”

You snorted as your lips twitched.

“Why does every seem to be forgetting the Queen part of Queen Y/N?” You asked with a tilt of your head. Ayo stared at you with her usual cool blank expression.

“They will be done momentarily.” You nodded at Ayo before moving towards the windows to look out the windows. Yuritzi stirred against your chest, her little fist pressing against your chest. You patted her back and hummed her back to sleep, you were still humming quietly when the doors behind you opened and you heard the familiar voice of your mother.

“…considering that my daughter still has not…” You glanced over your shoulder as Ramonda trailed off the moment she caught sight of you standing by the window. You smiled.

“Hello, mama,” You greeted warmly. While Ramonda stared at you as if she could not believe her eyes, K’uk’ulkan was striding towards you.

“Y/N! What are you doing here!? And without guards!? What of Yuritzi? The little one will escape! You know nothing holds her in! What if she—“ You turned in place mid sentence, revealing your daughter sleeping against your chest.

“My sea, if you would kindly lower your voice, or you shall wake her up.” You told K’uk’ulkan watching as his entire attention was diverted to the sleeping baby.

“In ujo’,” (My moon) He breathed, a hand automatically reaching up to caress Yuritzi’s midnight tuffs of hair. His eyes rose to meet yours and silent conversation passed between you. You sighed.

“I was feeling cooped up and figured that it was time for her to meet her other family.” You explained in English before nodding your head to Namora. “Namora was with us the entire time and besides, you think I’ll leave her with anyone else? The little escape artist will disappear in under five minutes.”

K’uk’ulkan sighed, knowing that you were technically correct, but wished that you had a full guard to escort you. Even with Talokan’s good relation with Wakanda, he was still highly protective of you and your daughter within the ocean. So he leaned his forehead against yours and nuzzled his nose with yours.

“Forgive me, my sun, I only imagine the worst when you are not surrounded by our people.” K’uk’ulkan murmured, his lips brushing against yours. At his soft and gentle words, Yuritzi stirred against your chest and drowsily opened her eyes. At first she blinked at you with her adorable grin, but then she seemed to realize who was standing in front of you, and let out a piercing shriek, her arms waving in your face. You took a baby fist to the jaw and winced. K’uk’ulkan was on her before you even had a chance to react. “Do not despair my moon, your papa is here.”

Rolling your eyes as K’uk’ulkan began unstrapping your squirming child from your chest, you glanced at Ramonda and saw that she had finally collected herself.

“Apologies for the shrieks, she get’s very excited every time she sees her father,” You explained as K’uk’ulkan hefted her up with his hands, a glowing smile on his face as Yuritzi squealed with laughter, her ankle wings fluttering with excitement.

“You have a child,” Ramonda softly spoke as if she couldn’t believe her eyes. K’uk’ulkan settled Yuritzi against his chest, holding onto her firmly so she didn’t make yet another break for it. He could withstand Yuritzi’s baby punches much better than your.

“Yes,” You answered, reaching up to brush a few of Yuritzi’s wayward curls from her face. “This is Yuritzi, and she is an absolute terror.”

“Yuritzi,” Ramonda repeated, looking at her granddaughter with a smile.

“Our Preciosa waal is as you count, eight months old and already able to sneak away from her mother.” (Precious daughter) You gave K’uk’ulkan a glare for how proud he seemed of that fact. His cheeky grin in response indicated he knew exactly why you were glaring at him. The absolute cheek!

“She get’s that from you, you know.” You griped, your eyes dropping to Yuritzi’s ankle wings. You then addressed your mother. “She figured out how to use her wings to get around before she even knew how to crawl. She’s an absolute menace to track down when she get’s out. I literally have to put a leash on her so she doesn’t get out.”

“Reminds me of a certain daughter of mine,” Ramonda countered, her eyebrow arched. K’uk’ulkan began chuckling while you huffed and then pressed a kiss against the side of your head, nuzzling your hair.

“Like mother like daughter, no?”

“Do you like having a place to sleep at night?” You countered, giving your husband a look. AKA: do you like sleeping next to me? Because if you do, I suggest you stop. K’uk’ulkan blinked at you, mirth still clear in his eyes.

“Very much so, In reina,” He replied cheekily.

“Then stop tempting fate, Ulwandle lwam,” (My sea) You told him firmly. “Now,” You turned back to Ramonda. “Ayo said that Shuri was in her lab? I believe I am due for a ‘I told you so’.”

“Indeed,” Ramonda confirmed. “We shall visit her, and while we walk, you must tell me all there is to know about my granddaughter.” As you waked towards Shuri’s lab, you told your mother everything there was to know about Yuritzi, including her superhuman abilities that tested your abilities to be her parent. Even after all this time, Ramonda had remained hesitant about K’uk’ulkan being your husband, let alone an ally of Wakanda. But hearing you talk about your daughter and watching the mutant man/god, it became painfully clear that while the moon does influence the tide, so can the sun… and you were K’uk’ulkan’s bright star.

Date Published: 7/30/23

Last Edit: 4/5/23

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#k'ul'kulkan #namor #namor x y/n #namor fanfiction #namor of talokan #namor x reader

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tippystreasurebox · 9 months

Text

For better or worse

[Ao3]

Summary:

One-shot cause I really needed to write something XD

Gordon can't catch a break, but at least he has someone ready to pull him out of the fire.

Grit dug into his cheek as he lay across the asphalt, the burn of it raking across his skin not nearly as painful as the searing heat on his back. Head pounding, Gordon tried to push himself up from the torturous road, the need to reorient himself overshadowing the ringing of his ears and blurring of watery vision.

"Pen-" came out choked from smoke hanging in the air. She'd been right in front of him, but now he couldn't find her and that sent new waves of terror through his chest.

Gordon made it to his knees when hands grabbed his shoulders from behind, fingers wrapping into the fabric of his ruined shirt to guide him to his feet. He didn't have a chance to turn before he was led farther from the fiery wreckage. The heat difference was almost immediate as he was moved to the safety of another vehicle and he collapsed onto his rear to sit against the cool metal.

"Gordon?" Penelope's voice sent bright amber eyes wide as Gordon found her crouching in front of him.

"Pen!" Instinctively, his hand reached out to cradle her face, the image of red trickling past her ear catching his breath. "You okay?"

"Just fine, darling," she smiled, leaning into his touch. "You took most of the blast, I'm afraid."

The blast had been their rental car, one Gordon had greatly enjoyed driving up until getting in after the gala and hearing an ominous click. With his head clearing, he leaned over, peering around their cover to see the vehicle in flames. Wincing, the aquanaut turned back to the woman who'd pulled him far enough away before the bomb had detonated. "That was pretty close, huh?"

"Too close." Penelope took his improving state as a sign to join him against the car, leaning into his side as he wrapped an arm around her. "I'm sorry. I should've checked."

"No reason to check, you're not on assignment, remember?" Gordon placed a kiss on top of her disheveled curls. "Honeymoons don't usually come with assassination attempt warnings."

The cry of sirens in the distance was a welcome comfort as they both recognized the danger of a potential assassin still lurking, waiting to ensure the job was done. If someone was out there, though, Gordon doubted they would try again with the authorities on the way. The sound of a ship stealthily landing on a cleared area of the parking lot solidified that idea. Kayo emerged moments later, a med kit bumping against the aquanaut's leg as she assessed the situation.

"That was quick," Gordon teased as a wad of gauze pressed into his cheek. "Ow."

"Happened to be in the area," Kayo offered with a telling smile. She was there extra security - secret extra security apparently, but he wasn't about to complain. "Wish I could've been here sooner."

As he was encouraged to lean forward so she could examine his back, Gordon found himself wishing the same. Penelope's fingers interlacing with his own drew his attention away from those thoughts and he returned a gentle squeeze. Being a little singed was okay as long as they made it through the ordeal alive.

"Hey, it's our honeymoon," Gordon grinned. "Things are supposed to get hot."

And the subtle laughter from the woman in his arms was worth the body aches.

#thunderbirds #thunderbirds are go #gordon tracy #lady penelope #penelope creighton ward #pen and ink #pen&ink #whump

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niceboyeds · 2 years

Text

just hold me (e.m.)

Eddie Munson x reader

summary: Eddie comforts you after your best friend moves out of town *fluffy fluff*

word count: 1.2k

a/n: one of my best friends lives over 4,000 miles away from me and she facetimed me today crying because she misses me. so now i’m sad and i miss her like crazy and i wrote this super fast before bed because i desperately need a hug.

nav

——————

“you’ll call me every week?”

“every Thursday at five o’clock.” your best friend promises, hugging you tightly as both of you try your hardest to push back tears.

“i can’t believe you’re leaving me.” you whisper, pulling away to hold her face in your hands. trying to show her you understand why she’s going. “but i’m so, so proud of you. i know you’re going to do great things.”

both of you collapse into each other’s arms for one final squeeze before she hops into her parent’s station wagon. she rolls down the window, holding out her hand for you to grab and you follow them down the driveway, only letting go when they turn into the road.

you can’t find the motivation to go back inside your house. instead you watch the car get smaller and smaller until you can’t see it anymore. then you’re just staring at nothing.

“come on baby. let’s go inside, yeah?” Eddie’s voice is soft and caring, knowing this is extremely difficult for you.

“okay” is all you can seem to say before trudging up the driveway and into your home. you immediately walk into your bedroom, crawling into your unmade bed and curling into a ball.

“do you need anything?”

“can you just hold me please?”

he does without a second thought. wrapping his arms around you, cradling your head with his hand as you weep into his chest. his other hand rubbing up and down your back gently.

he doesn’t once tell you that you’re being overdramatic. never saying “you’ll see her soon” or “you’ll talk to her next week”. he knows how hard this is for you, because he knows she’s your person.

he didn’t get it at first, confused with thinking he would be your person. but he quickly learned there is no way he could possibly replace her, and he never once took offense to it.

“it sucks, i know.” is all he can think of to say, not fully knowing how to make you happy in this situation.

“it sucks ass.” you sniffle, your breath shaky from crying.

“what can i do to cheer you up? i hate seeing you like this.”

“nothing. i’m just going to wallow in my sadness right here.”

“hm, i guess we can wallow for a bit.” he says, his arms still wrapped around you. “maybe a nap?” you nod as you cozy into him more, if that’s even possible.

the next couple of days are filled with nothing but sadness. no one prepares you for when your childhood best friend moves away from you. you feel like you’re missing a part of yourself, like there’s a hole in your heart.

this is worse than a breakup. a whole new kind of heartbreak. it might seem dramatic, it’s not like she’s dead. but the fear of not knowing when you’ll get to see her again, to hug her again, it’s so painful.

“are you still in the same position i left you in?” Eddie asks, walking through the door of your bedroom.

“maybe.”

“have you eaten?” he’s always so worried about you, making sure you are taking care of yourself. you consider lying, but he would see right through you.

“not since you made me yesterday.”

“okay, c’mon pumpkin.” he grabs your hand and slowly pulls you up, despite your groaning and attempt to hold yourself onto the mattress.

“maybe a shower will help? and a movie night?” he suggests, helping you stand from the bed and you let him win. you don’t have the energy to fight with him on it.

“okay. but if you’re making me get out of bed then i get to pick the movie.”

“naturally.” he kisses your forehead before you walk to the bathroom.

he was right, of course. the shower did help get you out of your funk. feeling clean and scrubbing the dried tears off your face made you feel better.

until you were brushing your hair, thinking about how every time you’d come out of the shower at a sleepover your best friend would always braid your hair. something you had never been able to master. she always did it best.

you walk out of the bathroom in a set of clean pajamas and make your way to Eddie. “aw sweetie, i thought it would help.” he frowns once he sees your tears.

“it did. i just want her to braid my hair.” you whisper, bringing your hands up to wipe your tears.

“i know, i’m so sorry.” he sighs, unsure how to further console you. all you do is curl up on the couch next to him, laying your head on his arm as you sniffle quietly.

“i ordered your favorite pizza…” you look up at him, trying your best to smile.

“thank you.” he’s trying so hard to make you feel better, to help you. you hate that you’re being like this. “can you just hold me?”

he moves his body slightly to hold you against him once again, rubbing your arm gently. slowly you start to feel better, thinking that soon enough you'll be back to normal.

Thursday at 4:59pm you wait by the phone, giddy with excitement to hear your best friend’s voice. 5 o’clock sharp you hear the ring and jump to grab it, feeling so relieved it’s her. the two of you have a lot to catch up on.

the conversation flies by, talking about her new job and weird roommate, and suddenly it’s been an hour. you both agree to talk again next week, saying another round of saddened goodbyes before hanging up the phone.

you’re proud of yourself for only crying a little bit, easily wiping away the few tears before your sweet boyfriend walks through the front door.

“hi!” he smiles, kicking off his shoes in the entryway.

“hi baby.” you smile back, trying your hardest not to be upset again.

“i know you probably just got off the phone, and i'm sure it was hard on you… but i have a surprise.”

“thank you, i really appreciate it.” you give him a kiss, truly grateful to have him to lean on. “i’m just gonna shower real quick.”

once again the shower distracts you, feeling refreshed and excited to spend the rest of the evening with your lovely boyfriend.

“okay what’s my surprise?” you tease, walking into the living room with your damp hair where he’s sitting on the couch.

“sit on the ground!” he sits up excitedly, patting the area of the couch between his calves to tell you he wants you to sit in front of him. you sit skeptically, surely he’s up to no good.

or so you thought, before he starts running his fingers through your hair and slicking it back. he starts following a pattern you know like the back of your hand.

he’s braiding your hair.

you let him finish in silence, smiling to yourself as he tightens the hair tie around the ends to keep it together. you immediately turn around to look at him.

“how did you—”

“i asked Max to teach me.”

you melt right there. this man has been nothing but supportive and loving for the past week and a half. doing everything in his power to make you smile.

“i don’t deserve you.” you whisper as you hug him, never wanting to let go. “i love you so much.”

as time goes by you’ve learned to come to terms of not seeing your best friend every day. and even though you still have rough days of missing her here and there, Eddie is right there to hold you and braid your hair.

#eddie x reader #stranger things #stranger things fluff #eddie stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things blurb #eddie munson #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fics #eddie munson x reader

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lemonlamblaura · 14 days

Text

My Husband is the God of Pestilence - chapter 7

Not too much to say about this chapter, bit I'm excited to get to the next one because we meet Lilybell's parents! Stay tuned!!! 🩷

"M-Mother... Father... I don't feel so good..."

People collapsing all around him.

He was walking. Where was he going?

There was darkness. He wandered into a web.

"You poor thing. Come with me, or you will die soon."

Suddenly warmth.

Kallamar jolted awake. After a few heavy breaths, he realized he was not in Silk Cradle, but in his own room in his own temple. He was wrapped in his silk sheets like a cocoon, suffocating him, and it took a few moments to untangle himself.

He hadn't dreamt of his beginning in years, but it never stopped being so intense. The crown had found him in his sleep, and sat beside him on his pillow until he woke up and put it on, not knowing what it was. He immediately became ill, not knowing how to control its powers. In his stupor, he left the small village he once called home and wandered into Silk Cradle, where Shamura found him and took him in.

The crown sat on his bedside table, staring up at him with its round blue eye, studying him. It didn't react at all as he picked it up and put it on. Shamura said one day it may speak to him. He always wondered what it would say. So far he heard nothing from it. It may as well be just an ordinary hat.

Kallamar made his bed neatly as he always did. Thankfully he didn't need to sleep much anymore. This was the first time he'd slept in over a year. He was surprised the bed didn't have more dust on it when he crawled into it the night before. It didn't see much use, and was more of a couch than anything.

Upon leaving his room, he noticed the light from the windows illuminating the hallway. It must be late. At least his followers had the decency to let him rest, but he felt some alarm rise up in him that no one had even checked up on him. Didn't anyone wonder where he was?

He made his way down the hall to Lilybell's room. Surely she must be up by now. He knocked on the door.

"Lilybell?" He asked. "Are you awake?"

Not hearing an answer, he continued on, figuring he would see her somewhere around the temple. A few followers met him on his walk, and he nodded politely as they greeted him. Eventually he made his way to the dining hall, where he was surprised to find a large number of people. They came up to him, clamoring about something, but he took a quick look among them and didn't see Lilybell, so he ignored them. He peeked into the kitchen and finally saw her, standing with Trenaty at one of the counters, cutting vegetables.

"What are you doing in here?" He asked curiously.

Lilybell heard his voice and turned to him, and her face instantly brightened. "Good morning, Lord Kallamar!"

"Why are you cooking? You don't work in here anymore and today is a holiday."

Trenaty raised her hand. "My lord, if I may speak? There was no food prepared for breakfast."

Kallamar stared at her blankly.

"My lord, when you declared today a holiday, you did not tell us your plans for cooking. No one has done anything since last night."

Finally it kicked in, and he slapped a hand to his face in embarrassment. He was so high on pride at how yesterday's sermon had gone, the holiday was announced in the spur of the moment and he never even considered how things would work today.

"It's okay, Lord Kallamar," Lilybell said, stepping forward with a soft smile. "Everybody makes mistakes. I made more than a hundred here already! Trenaty is helping me cook for everyone so we'll be okay! See? The rice is already boiling in the hearth!"

"We will handle everything, Lord Kallamar. You can attend to your own affairs."

Lilybell and Trenaty returned to their work and conversation as Kallamar watched them work. He really did feel quite stupid. The other followers were gathered around the door, watching them. They must have felt he was quite stupid too. What kind of God doesn't provide food for his own people? He needed to repair his image right away or else people would lose faith in him.

"Um," he mumbled, and the women looked up at him expectantly, "may I, uh... what would you-"

"Oh, Lord Kallamar! Do you want to help?" Lilybell asked excitedly.

All he could do was nod, not looking at them.

"Can you help us with the fish? We're almost done with the vegetables so we need to skin and clean them!"

He just nodded quickly again, greatful they seem to be judging him. The other followers watched in surprise from the doorway. Lord Kallamar was actually going to cook for them! Hopefully no one became gravely ill.

Over the next few days, Lilybell came to the realization that she wasn't doing very much as Kallamar's assistant.

She helped him write letters and accompanied him through the temple on his duties, but the most she was doing was talking to him and keeping him company. He'd had a small staircase installed on the side of his desk so she could climb up to it without him having to lift her up all the time. She even had a neat, soft blue cushion to sit on while she talked to him.

The second thing she realized was that the other followers had begun to treat her differently. It varied between people, but usually went in one of two directions: either they were keeping their distance from her as much as possible, or they were sucking up to her like there was no tomorrow. Some turned an ran at the sight of her. A few people had complimented her on her wool and her robes (despite the fact they all wore the same robes), and even tried to give her presents. But Kallamar always gave the best presents, of course. It seemed like he gave her something every other day. One present was a soft purple handkerchief with scalloped edges. Another was a silk head scarf for her to wear when they went out, to keep her wool clean from stray sand.

She also had the strong suspicion that he was drawing her. One time after a particularly restless night, she nodded off on her cushion, and when she came to he was hurriedly stuffing some papers away into a desk drawer and wouldn't tell her what they were about. So she decided to play a trick on him to find out once and for all. She pretended to fall asleep, and heard the rustling of papers and the scratching of a quill. After a few moments she peeked one eye open, and had her answer.

"AH-HA!" She yelled suddenly leaping forward, causing Kallamar to let out a shriek and grab the paper to his chest, crumpling it and staining it with ink. "You are drawing me!"

"I-I thought you were asleep!" Kallamar cried, wrenching the paper away from her as she tried to grab it. "Don't!"

"Oh, please, Lord Kallamar! Please let me see!" She made the biggest pout she could muster, looking up at him with big wet eyes. "Why can't you show me? I bet they're really good!" Her lip quivered pathetically, well practiced.

Kallamar waited, seeing if a few seconds would sway her into leaving it alone, but she didn't relent, so he sighed and laid the paper on his desk, using a hand to smooth out the wrinkles. She crawled onto the paper and saw herself on it, sleeping soundly.

She cooed in admiration. "It's me!"

"You suggested I get a hobby," Kallamar explained. "When I was younger I enjoyed drawing. My mother told me I was good at it."

"I love it," she looked up at him with her usual smile. "But you don't have to wait until I'm asleep. You can draw me anytime!"

Kallamar smiled back, "I'm glad you like it."

That night, a follower knocked on Lilybell's door and handed her a letter. She recognized the handwriting instantly, having known it all her life. She hesitated opening it. She had no ties to her village anymore. She certainly didn't want to hear anymore from her mother. What could she possibly have to say? Would she beg her to come home?

She tried to go to bed, the letter unopened on her dresser, but anticipation and dread kept her awake and she knew she couldn't put off the inevitable. She opened the letter, her heart hammering in her chest.

"What's wrong, dear? You've hardly said a word all morning."

Lilybell stopped writing Kallamar's letter to Silk Cradle and pursed her lips. She didn't know what to do. Would he even let her go?

"Lord Kallamar, last night I received a letter from my village," she put her quill down, not looking up at him. "My father is very sick. He may die soon."

"I see..." Kallamar's eyed drifted away from her. No wonder she had been so quiet. He remembered his own father, and his frail constitution. He had no idea what happened to him after he became a god.

"Lord Kallamar," Lilybell said quietly, leaving her cushion and crawling over to him, grasping one of his large hands, "I know I promised I would stay and help you, but my father was always so good to me. He always believed in me when my mother didn't. I want to see him to say goodbye, but I'm scared to see her again."

"Is she really so terrible?" He asked. "You make her seem like a monster."

Lilybell nodded, but there was a hopeless look in her eyes. "You don't know her like I do. She never gave me a chance to do anything I really wanted. She never gave me a chance to do anything. When the other kids were out exploring I had to stay behind because she always thought I would get in trouble or get hurt. She never trusted me to be an adult. That's why I snuck away to come to Anchordeep. The morning the group was leaving, I told my mother I was going, and I thought she would let me because I'm an adult now. But she still wouldn't let me go. So I ran away because I was so upset. I don't want to see her anymore."

Kallamar listened with sadness in his heart. No wonder she was so immature and excitable. She was never given the opportunity to grow up. Now that witch was keeping her away from the only person from her village that believed she could be better.

"I will go with you," Kallamar said, petting her hair gently. "You will say goodbye to your father. I won't let her mistreat you. And then you can come home. To your real home."

Lilybell's eyes glistened with tears as she leaned into his touch. She grabbed his hand and rubbed her face against it, tears spilling down her cheeks.

"Thank you."

#cult of the lamb #cotl kallamar #Kallamar #oc x canon #canon x oc

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sarcastic-sketches · 10 months

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hey what about that archon Star Wars where Obiwan goes undercover as a mercenary and fakes his death would Anakin still get tricked?

Ah yes, the Rako Hardeen arc. This is one of the story arcs that's going to happen very differently to canon because of the elements involved directly impacting Anakin being a Kitsune. I'll have to watch the arc again when I come to write it to make it more accurate (along with some medical research) but this is the way I imagine it playing out. TW for bodily harm, people getting shot.

So while Obi-Wan is all ready and set up for his mission to be shot by a bounty hunter that's been hired specifically for this task, everyone has kind of forgotten that the reason Anakin is the only Kitsune left in the GFFA is because they were hunted to the point of near extinction for their tails. By hunters.

They've all gotten a little complacent with the change by now. He's an accomplished General in a war, he dodges death all the time, they all forget that he is still vulnerable to attack from sources other than the Separatists. Even when on Coruscant.

Obi-Wan is putting himself directly in the way of a blaster bolt from a bounty hunter. A group of people who are rewarded for their oppotunistic nature. The plan kicks off, Obi-Wan gets shot and falls off the building, with Ahsoka reaching him first only to discover that he isn't breathing. Anakin is still at the top of the building, leaning over the edge to see Obi-Wan's body in his Padawan's arms.

Meanwhile, Rako is lining up another shot as his other, personal target has now walked into frame. He's thinking, 'you know what? Maybe I should take a pot shot for a tail while I'm here'. You miss all the shots you don't take after all and he brought a bullet just in case. Obi-Wan is known for always having Skywalker not far behind him after all.

What are the chances he can nail two Jedi in one day?

Only Anakin isn't wearing body armour or being targetted by a fake bolt. He's too busy zeroing in on his Master's body down on the floor to notice something else is wrong. In his distracted state, the next shot goes straight through his chest. A real solid bullet made of silver. The silver doesn't actually do anything, Rako might just be a bit superstitious and thought it might help weaken such a creature, but it's really just the physical trauma of the shot itself that brings Anakin down.

Ahsoka, still cradling Obi-Wan's body has to look up and find her own Master now slumped over the side of the building after a second shot has gone off. She reaches the top of the building just in time to see Rako advancing on an unconcious Anakin with a knife. She doesn't even hesitate to launch herself at this bounty hunter, who is now far too close to defend himself against a light saber. He makes a run for it and Ahsoka can't leave to chase after him, she needs to call support. She needs to...

Stop the bleeding and call for help.

"Jedi emergency. Calling for med evac!" Ahsoka hisses into her comm as she jabs a thumb into the hole punched through her Master's back, just under his left shoulder blade. That's a collapsed lung... "Copy that. Ship in the air, what's the situation?" the voice of a clone responds. No doubt one of the Coruscant Guard who are always monitoring the military comm frequencies for just such an occasion. "Two Jedi down. General Skywalker is critically injured, projectile through the back. General Kenobi is," she has to pause to swallow through the saliva filling her mouth, throat tight with her panic. A fluttering inhale quells the nerves in her chest before she raises her comm again. "General Kenobi is unresponsive. Blaster bolt to the chest. Please, I need immediate medical assistance."

"We're on our way. ETA two minutes."

It is the longest two minutes of Ahsoka's life as she tears the fabric of her glove from her arms with her teeth to stuff against the bleeding around her thumb.

It is later commented upon that it's remarkable the shot didn't kill him. Kitsune are durable but perhaps some baser instinct caused Anakin to move the slightest inch so the bullet missed his heart. But it means he is left healing for the duration of Obi-Wan's mission. With blood loss and a perforated lung, a bacta bath would not be enough to get the General back on his feet. The news that Anakin got shot for real because of the deception has Obi-Wan feeling very unnerved and guilty. He had a mission to complete, and he committed to the task, but Anakin was never meant to become a target himself. The plan succeeds without issue and the bounty hunters captured at the end of the Festical of Light. All this subterfuge and fuss hardly seemed worth it in the end... it all felt very anticlimatic.

Anakin is still upset that he was lied to - especially in an attempt to take advantage of his emotional reactions - but since he was out of it for the whole thing, he never had to really experience Obi-Wan's death. Never had to go through the mourning of his Master or contemplate living in world without him in it. But he knows Ahsoka did, and he's more pissed off on her behalf than he is for himself once everything is over. Especially since he wasn't able to be there for her either.

Ahsoka, on the other hand, is still reeling from nervous relief that she didn't just lose her two Masters at the same time. Plus the fact that her on the spot first aid - and I like to think she'd previously bothered Kix for some pointers - actually saved Anakin's life. There isn't enough space in her brain to feel the sting of deception really. Perhaps it'll come later. Right now, she just wants her two Master's to get along and forget everything else that has happened.

#kitsune!anakin #anakin skywalker #ahsoka tano #obi wan kenobi #rako hardeen arc #kitsune #star wars #star wars au #sw #sw au #star wars writing #ask and ye shall receive

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stories-and-chaos · 1 month

Text

Tarnished pt 16

[Helluva Boss AU where Blitzø’s childhood theft from Stolas’ palace is discovered and major consequences ensue for everyone involved.]

[Part 16/?? Word count: 3503 Cw: mentions of drug abuse, noncon, prostitution, language]

—————

Inside the limo, Loona had been waiting anxiously for them. Everyone felt it was best for her to be nearby since she was the only person Dina knew. While Blitzø kept Slicker at bay, Loona pulled her sister into the rear cabin and placed herself between Dina and the door. The smaller Hound clung to one of the seats.

“This isn’t over, impy.” She shuddered at the tone in Slicker’s voice. That particular edge had always been followed by some sort of violence. Everyone working for the aspiring Overlord knew that and they did what they could to keep him happy. If not happy, then at least calm. It wasn’t terribly effective since he could switch into fury with little provocation, but it was better than doing nothing.

The male imp didn’t seem to care about the threat in Slicker’s voice. He just quipped about the gathering crowd of angry hellborn and slammed the door closed. That was their driver’s cue to speed away.

The sudden acceleration made Loona slip on the car floor while knocking the other three into the seats. “Hey! Take it easy!” she yelled at the driver through the open panel.

“Sorry, Loona!” The driver, a Hellhound a bit older than the girls, yelled back. “Prince Stolas’ orders; get out of this section of the Pentagram asap.”

She grumbled but climbed into the seat with Dina. “Are you okay? You didn’t get hurt did you?”

Dina looked blankly at her sister. The realization that. Slicker and everything associated with him was rapidly disappearing from her world made something in her crumble. Her face scrunched up as tears filled her eyes.

“Looooooonaaaaa! I thought I’d never see you aga-a-a-a-aiiiin!” she wailed, collapsing into her sister’s arms. The bigger Hound cradled her sibling as best she could in the moving vehicle. She stroked Dina’s hair, claws running through locks much shorter than she recalled.

As she made soothing noises, Blitzø and Stolas pointed looked away, giving the girls a bit of privacy. I am not going to get jealous over my daughters’ reunion. Nope, not gonna. Technically speaking, Loona was his kid and he’d just met Dina. But that wasn’t far from how things were when he adopted Loona.

Blitzø felt himself falling in love again. Now that the immediate crisis was lulling, he was feeling that same doting affection for Dina as he did with Loona and Octavia. Fuck it, if she wants me as a dad, then I’m her dad.

“Sooooo, Blitzø,” Stolas drew his attention, “where did you meet, how did you phrase it? ‘Hentai-for-hands?’’”

“The fuck?!” Loona and the driver yelled. Dina, having calmed down some, spluttered a laugh. “Oh hellfire, that’s perfect! Slicker, his hands are all…” she wiggled her fingers, “tentacley.” Loona made a disgusted face. “Yeah, it’s so gross.”

“And he’s got way more than there should be, for fingers.” Blitzø added. “Must’ve been, Christ, almost two decades ago? Before you married the feather duster. It was when I was going out after all those ‘dates’ you were trying; he and a couple others were trying to prove they were big tough demons. Little ol’ me,” he posed, fluttering his lashes with a hand dramatically on his chest, “proved them wrong.”

Dina rubbed her eyes as she recalled the Sinner’s many rants. “Hold up, are you the ‘bitchy imp twink’ that knocked out half his teeth?”

“Is that what he’s calling me? I shoulda punched them all out. But yuuuueeeep that’s me!” Blitzø grinned in satisfaction and leaned onto Stolas. “Unless that wannabe makes a habit of picking fights with imps.”

Dina blew out a deep breath. “He does, but most don’t fight back. You’re almost legendary with my imp coworkers.”

“Really? Interesting.” That might work in his favor with building his legion. Something to think about later.

For now, making sure Dina was safe was their priority. They had all discussed options for where she’d stay for the time being. As secure as the safe room Stolas had prepared for Blitzø was, it was still a windowless single room. The only exit led to the personal chambers of a member of demonic royalty. It was hard for Loona to stay there overnight and she knew Stolas and Via. Who knew how Dina would handle it.

On the other hand, the apartment in Imp City was already cramped and didn’t have any of the protection the palace had. The relative freedom was offset by a lack of security.

Stolas had started preparing a similar warded room near Octavia’s suite. Killing two bats with one stone, he was instructing his daughter in creating it. Whether the Hound girls decided to use it would be up to them. But with the dangers and animosity Blitzø and Stolas seemed to attract, the prince felt it was prudent to ensure Via could create a safe haven. Just in case.

But the wards weren’t ready yet. Via was working hard but it had taken Stolas months to come up with the protections. He hadn’t needed to cast them again in years. So it was something of a joint effort.

Once they were out of Pentagram City, their driver called back, “Where to sir?” Stolas then realized there was one person they hadn’t discussed things with: Dina. “To the estate for now, we may be changing our minds however.”

He focused on the young women. “Dina.” Her head snapped up and he could see the anxiety she was trying to suppress. “We haven’t actually been introduced yet. I am Stolas, Prince of Ars Goetia. Scarlet and Vex are two of my household staff. Your sister is my pupil and her adoptive father Blitzø is my partner.” They could get into details later. “We have some options for where you’ll be staying in the immediate future and I believe your input is very important on that subject. Loona, would you care to explain?”

He doubted Dina had much choice in anything that had happened in her life. Not unlike an imp he was fond of. If they wanted to help her, some structure and a voice in her future was important.

None of them were surprised that she looked terrified at the thought of Blitzø’s safe room. She wavered between the city apartment and an unsecure suite in the palace. The apartment, with its distance from unknown royalty and relative privacy won out. “Can…can I stay at the apartment? With Loona?”

“You got it.” Blitzø called to the driver, “Change of plans, we’re going to Imp City! You know my address?”

“Sorry man, I’ve never been to Imp City before. Directions?” The imp wasn’t great at giving driving directions, but Loona could get them there.

It was mid afternoon by the time they arrived. Stolas elected to return to the palace. “Keep me updated darling. Via and I will get that suite secure in the next few days. We may not need it, but better to be prepared.”

The sigil at Blitzø’s throat gleamed; he just sighed in annoyance and agreed to make sure Stolas was informed. He shepherded the girls into the apartment as the limo drove off.

He let Loona lead the way once they were inside. It wasn’t much different from when she first arrived. There was slightly less horse decor as Loona had added her own goth aesthetic to the place. Photos of everyone currently in their lives were hung in the entryway.

Dina sat on the run down couch in a daze. Her life had gone topsy turvy in less than 24 hours. Yesterday, she’d woken up about this time, fully expecting to be used by at least half a dozen demons before the sun was up.

She’d still been on edge from seeing Loona the week prior. Dina had been doing her best to just forget about everything, to act like nothing was different. The Hellhound had confided to a couple of her friends at the brothel; she’d been so jumpy the day she first saw her sister at the end of the street. One of the guys gave her access to his drug stash.

Dina hadn’t used much at all in the time she’d been under Slicker’s tentacles. Drugs were expensive and it was hard enough to pay off her existing debts. There were some days she just needed to not be though. To forget about it all and let the chemical high carry her to the morning.

She’d taken the hits her friends offered every night since Loona spotted her. She’d been ready to take another that night when the exhibitionist imps strolled in. They asked for her. To be their ‘audience.’ The female even insisted on her joining them in the lounge for food before going to one of the bedrooms. The imp who’d been in their room the first night encouraged her to go along with them.

“Easiest night I’ve had in ages and they’re super chill. Kinda chatty when they’re not fucking but nice about it. And the bonus they gave me, damn I almost came from that stack of bills.” When Dina asked why he wasn’t trying to get their attention he nudged her towards the pair. “You need an easy night. Things have been way too hard for you lately. So enjoy your paid time off.”

So she sat next to the two imps as they bantered and flirted. When they had their fill of sub par entertainment and drinks, she took them to one of the rooms. After their first visit, they knew to request jugs of water and a comfortable chair for her.

Neither imp really seemed to notice her once the door closed. Scarlet, the female, pounced on her partner and the pair tumbled on the bed. Dina watched, weirdly curious, as they stripped off bits of clothes and covered newly exposed skin in lips and tongues.

After about twenty minutes, the male, Vex, pulled back enough to ask, “Think it’s been long enough?”

Scarlet pulled his head back to hers, panting. “Five more minutes.” He chuckled and they continued. It ended up being closer to ten when they broke apart. “That should be enough time,” she said, trying to slow her breathing down. A tremor of fear ran down the Hounds spine as the imps looked at her. They seemed way too calm, considering how entwined they had been a moment ago.

“Dina.” Scarlet’s voice was soft and sad. “We’re not going to do anything to you, I swear. But we’re not here to have someone watch us.”

“We’re friends with Loona,” Vex dropped the bombshell of information. “We’re here to help you both.”

One fear was replaced by another, along with a deep feeling of shame. “Sh-she can’t come h-here! She’ll g-get hurt and if he finds out I’ve got f-family out there, he’ll-“ she started hyperventilating. The memory of the last time Slicker was mad at her started to replay in her head. Dina shook her head violently; she had more important things to think about. She needed these two to understand.

“Please, p-please, don’t let her come here. I’ll do whatever you want b-but k-keep my sister away,” she said desperately. She gripped her chair, gouging holes into the wood.

The imps exchanged a glance before pulling shirts back on. Scarlet went to sit in front of the door as Vex fastened a couple buttons. “We’re all making sure she doesn’t break in here. Easier said than done,” he said dryly, “but we’re managing.” Both of them were pointedly giving her space. Neither made a move to touch her.

“You talking to her might be the best bet. Not in person,” Vex clarified, “but a phone call?” He pulled out his smartphone. “We could even do a video call if yo-“

“No video! But…” talking to Loona, she could get her to stay away. Growing up, her littermate had always been the tough one, protecting Dina. But this place, Slicker, was more than one (or two) Hellhound could handle. “I want to talk to her.”

Vex placed the call, putting it on speaker. It barely started ringing when an unfamiliar voice picked up. “Vex? Lety? I’ve got you on speaker.”

“Blitzø, man, it’s good we got here early. Dina here has way too many thirsty fuckers coming round here.” The girl snorted; if only they knew. “Good thing we tipped so good last time, we got first pick.”

“The fact he basically got a paid night off helped too,” Scarlet added from her self-appointed station in front of the door. Dina had to admit the imps were right. No one had questioned their request for her, and her coworkers even encouraged her to go along with it.

A scrambled noise came over the phone speaker, before, “Dina’s there? She’s with you now?!” Last time she’d heard Loona, she’d been screeching for Slicker’s hired hellborn goons to let her sister go. Dina sobbed at the shaky hope in her sister’s voice.

Scarlet came next to her chair, still not touching the girl. “It’s going to be okay. You can do this.” Her voice was quiet but there was no denying the confidence in it. Confidence in…Dina? The imp woman had no reason to have that feeling for Dina from the Hound’s view. But it was there and it was encouraging.

Vex handed the phone to her and she managed “L-Loona?” He sister started to apologize and promise to rescue her, but that just made the panic rise in Dina again. “No! You can’t come here Loona. Slicker…you don’t know what he’s capable of!” She started to hyperventilate again.

Vex took the phone back for a moment as both imps helped her calm down. He brought her water as Scarlet talked to her soothingly. When she could continue, she took a deep breath and took the phone back. “I don’t want you to get hurt by him. I signed a deal when I got here. Once I pay off my debt I’ll be done with this place.” There was also the years of minimum employment she had to fulfill, but she’d managed it the past two. Hopefully, she sounded forceful enough that Loona and her friends would leave her be.

Dina had a glimmer of an idea to ask the imps to return every now and then. They’d been decent so far and if they were willing to give her tips like the one they’d left her friend, it would go a long way towards paying off her debts. But that shattered like a hurled wineglass when Loona started asking questions about her contract.

Dina still didn’t understand what all the fuss was. Contracts and deals were all the same right? Even if they started with superficial differences, it didn’t matter if the result was the same.

But the sighs of relief from everyone else seemed to imply differently. “We can work with a paper contract. I can’t say too much over the phone. I’ll…work something out. I won’t go on my own!” Dina tried to tell her no again when Loona pleaded, “Please? Let me try?”

She was so tired. Tired enough that she was sure ‘exhausted’ was a personality trait at this point. She didn’t want to fight with her sister if she could help it; she didn’t have the energy for it. Dina found herself agree, without any sense that whatever they tried would succeed. Maybe if they couldn’t rescue her right away, Loona and her friends would give up. And at least her sister would be safe.

Dina started to cry. “Okay. Just… please please please be careful. I love you Loona.”

Loona was crying too. “I love you too Dina. We can talk more later.” Vex took back his phone as Dina curled up in a ball on her chair. Maybe she should have taken that hit tonight. As it was the dam on her emotions fell away and she couldn’t stop herself from crying.

The pair of imps let her. Once she cried herself out, Scarlet was there with tissues and more water. No hint of judgment from either of them. Cleaned up a little, Vex insisted that she take a nap in the meantime. He’d call that Blitzø guy a few hours after midnight but there was plenty of time before then.

Dina slept until about two in the morning. At some point while she slept, one of the imps had gotten snacks. Dina recognized the food as appetizers from the lounge. She nibbled on fried mozzarella sticks as Vex offered to explain some of Loona’s current situation.

So when they placed another call, she at least knew the names of the others involved. There was also the implication that Scarlet and Vex’s employer was much stronger than Slicker. And that if they couldn’t get her out legally, they’d go the more forceful route.

Dina’s part was simple. Act as if everything was normal. If anyone asked about her crying, she’d say the conversation between the imp’s bouts of sex got heavy and they had paid for all her food that night in apology. She needed to be awake and ready to go in the afternoon.

She’d naturally been skeptical about everything. But it wouldn’t hurt to go along. So she was genuinely surprised when there was a knock on the door and the voice from the phone called her name. She flung the door open to see an unknown imp and…was that a Goetia?!

“I’m Blitzø, the ‘o’ is silent. Let’s get you to your sister.” Same voice as she’d heard last night. The imp moved fast and talked faster. Before she knew it the Goetia had his arm around her protectively and they were moving toward the door.

She could hear Slicker yelling and slamming things in his office. With a wicked grin, Blitzø hopped up onto the tiny lounge stage and announced that at least half of the contracts with Slicker were invalid because…of a technicality?! Anyone that had been a minor when they signed was free to go, including Dina.

In a blur, she was herded into the fanciest car she’d ever seen. Loona was inside and she immediately put herself between Dina and potential danger, just like she’d done all their lives.

Slicker’s threats, Blitzø’s nonchalance, the car racing away, and more crying on Dina’s part passed so quickly she wasn’t sure if she’d ever remember it all clearly. Now she was in an apartment, surrounded by so much horse decor. Was the imp making all this? How could anyone possibly find so much horse kitsch? As she was wondering that, her awareness faded and she flopped onto the couch, head hitting a horseshoe patterned pillow.

The sun was down by the time she woke up again. The unfamiliar surroundings made her yelp in panic, but Loona’s scent everywhere helped her calm down quickly. And Loona was there, coming around the couch.

“Hey. Blitzø is grabbing food for us. How are you feeling?”

Dina paused. How was she feeling? Lost, yes. Bewildered, definitely. Hurt, thankfully not. “I…I’m not sure? Everything happened so fast.”

Loona nodded and held out her hand. Dina gripped it. “Take all the time you need. I’m here for you.” Dina gave her a shaky smile. There was a hint of relief that she had her sister back in her life, if nothing else.

The apartment pushed open. “Dad’s back girls! With pizza! And cheesecake! Cheese, as a cake!” Blitzø sauntered in with a stack of pizza boxes. “We got extra cheese, pepper and sausage, and pepperoni.”

“Why is it always pizza with you Blitzø?” Loona asked, in a playfully grumpy tone. She squeezed Dina’s hand and pulled her over to the table.

“Pizza is fuckin’ amazing Loonie that’s why. And the general consensus is I’m a shitty cook.” He pulled out plates and cups. “Dina, what kind do you want?”

“One of each?” Everyone kept giving her choices now, it was mind boggling. She had to admit, Blitzø was right that the food was ‘fuckin’ amazing.’ She tried some of each kind, with the extra cheese being her favorite, though the combination of peppers and sausage was fun.

Before she could get up from the table, Blitzø placed a white cardboard cube in front of her. Dina didn’t know why but it meant something to Loona. “Dad…” she said quietly. Confused, Dina opened the box.

There was a cupcake inside. A fantastical confection, pink cake topped with a swirl of striped purple frosting, pastel and amethyst. Jewel shaped sprinkles and a decorative skewer displaying a princess cut diamond topped it off. “I got Loona one on her adoption day.” Dina’s eyes flicked between her sister and Blitzø. “I hope strawberry is okay. Anyway. Welcome to the family, if you want to be Dina.”

She nodded. “I love strawberries.” Loona gave her a hug as she sniffled. Dina felt like she didn’t have any more tears available right now, but maybe that was for the best. “Thanks Dad.”

—————

A/N: I suppose it’s fitting that Dina took over this section, considering how everyone is trying to get her agency back.

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