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7s3ven · 3 months

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NOBODY’S SON, NOBODY’S DAUGHTER. luke (pjo) pt 1

PART 1 > PART 2 > PART 3 > PART 4 (last pt)

( master list )

IN WHICH… Y/N L/N, after spending a decade at Camp Half-Blood, still remains unclaimed. Luckily, Luke is there to keep her company as her good friend. And to, perhaps, provide a bit more.

“I’m in the wind, you’re in the water. Nobody’s son, nobody’s daughter.”

( follows the show - kind of just a oneshot bc i’m bored )

Warnings : fighting, violence, a little too much of a description about injuries

—

Nobody had been this excited about a new kid since three years ago, when a H/C-haired girl showed up holding a Harpy’s head. The new arrival had slain a Minotaur, which Clarisse wasn’t too happy about. She was convinced he was a liar.

Y/N sat in the Hermes cabin, closely inspecting her empty juice box. She had waken up an hour ago yet her good friend, Luke, still woke up earlier. She always wondered where he went in the early morning. Perhaps to get some sword training in before the day started. He was, after all, the best swordsman in camp.

The rays of sun poured through the window, bathing the wooden floor in light. A few of the Hermes kids groaned, knowing Luke would burst through the doors any second and force them to get up. He always did when the sun rose.

As expected, Luke kicked the door open. “Good morning!” He exclaimed, as energetic as ever. “The new kid’s coming today so get up and start cleaning! I’m mainly talking to you guys.” Luke sent the group in the corner a stern look and added, “Y/N, you’re fine.” He pointed at her with his usual boyish grin.

Lately, Y/N had been sleeping in Luke’s bed while he slept on the floor. They took turns switching. Lying on the ground for more than a decade now wasn’t good for the back.

After all this time, Y/N was still unclaimed. It usually took a week or less. Y/N was a prime example of the Gods above ignoring their children.

“He’s the one who killed the Minotaur, right?” Y/N questioned as Luke collapsed onto his mattress, partly to annoy Y/N who was sitting on it. The H/C-haired girl scoffed and playfully rolled her eyes, yet she couldn’t contain the amused smile on her face.

“Yeah. He can join your little monster slaying group. Let’s hope he gets claimed because I can’t deal with a boy version of you.” Luke teasingly grinned while Y/N scoffed and slapped his shoulder.

“You love my company.” She uttered, rolling her eyes.

Luke’s friends snickered to themselves. “More like he loves you.” One whispered to another.

“What’s his name again?” Y/N asked, tilting her head to the side. “Was it… Tom?” Luke stared at her in disbelief before lightly snorting.

“You’re way off, Y/N. Stop thinking, you’ll hurt that tiny brain of your’s. Just do what you do best; sit still and look cute.” Luke ruffled her tidy hair, turning it into a bird’s nest again.

Y/N flung a pillow at him, and glowered at the Hermes boy. “I’m going to kick your ass in capture the flag.” She threatened, poking his shoulder. Clarisse, out of all people, was her best friend. So naturally, she teamed up with her.

“I wouldn’t be so sure, princess.” Luke lightly shoved her which caused Y/N to gasp in disbelief.

“Don’t push a lady, Luke!”

The other campers, already used to their antics, just chuckled. “Hey, love birds!” One of the unclaimed kids exclaimed. “Get a room!” With her smart she was, Y/N assumed she was Athena’s child.

Y/N and Luke liked to play a silly game where they guessed which camper belonged to which godly parent. It was fun. Luke was never wrong until the day he tried to guess Y/N’s.

A year ago, he guessed Aphrodite. His explanation? Because she was charming and she had a certain aura that followed her. And because she was pretty. That was the only time he was wrong because Y/N never ended up in a cabin.

“So, what do you think of the new kid? Which cabin?” Y/N asked as she and Luke walked outside. He shoved his hands into his pockets, laughing.

“Tough call. I haven’t even met him yet. Apollo, maybe?” Luke shrugged and frowned. “I’ll tell ya my guess when I see him.”

“I’m guessing… Poseidon.” Y/N uttered, earning a light snort from Luke.

“No way. Is that your confirmed guess? Being a child of Poseidon would mean being a forbidden child.”

The game had a few rules.

One. You can only take a single guess and once you confirm it, you can’t change it.

Two. You can’t ask the kid you’re talking about. Luke considers that cheating. You can only observe them.

Three. No asking Annabeth because she’s always right.

“I guess. It’s not like I ever win, right?” Y/N laughed, grinning at Luke. He stared at her for a moment before returning her bright smile.

“I know we don’t usually make bets, but if your guess turns out right, I’ll willingly give up in the next capture the flag game after he’s claimed.” Luke puffed out his chest, certain Y/N wouldn’t win.

“And if you win?” She asked, arching an eyebrow.

“You give me your strawberries.” Luke had an obsession with strawberries that everybody, even the gods above, knew about.

“You’re on, Luke.” Y/N held out her hand with her lips curved up into a teasing smirk.

“Good luck, princess. Looks like I’ll be taking all your strawberries.” Luke ran his tongue over his teeth, already being able to taste the sweet, red fruit in his mouth.

He walked off, playfully winking at Y/N. Clarisse, who saw the whole conversation go down, hurried over to Y/N. “Looks like you and lover boy have a bet going in.” She smirked, raising both her eyebrows. “You two are cute together.”

“Don’t mess with me, Clari. We’re just friends.” Y/N rolled her eyes at what her friend was suggesting. She had been friends with Luke for three years now and she had known him for even longer.

“Are you just friends… or you want to be more?” Clarisse leaned forward with that taunting glint in her beautiful eyes. Y/N groaned, shoving her away. Clarisse simply laughed. “Come on, princess.” She mocked.

“Oh, come on, Risse.” That was a horrid nickname given to Clarisse by an Apollo boy who seemed to be obsessed with her.

“Shut up!” Clarisse exclaimed, eyeing Y/N up and down in disgust as if she was the Apollo boy. “You know how I feel about him!”

“And you know how I feel about Luke.”

“Yeah… but do you?” Clarisse tilted her head to the side before her gaze flickered to something, or rather someone, behind Y/N. “The Minotaur kid is out.” She grumbled and sharply clicked her tongue.

“Great. I can see if my stupid guess was correct.” Y/N glanced over her shoulder, watching the boy walk beside Chiron. His hair was curled, much like Luke’s, and blond. Clarisse had wandered off in the midst of Y/N’s staring, but she didn’t mind.

Suddenly, the boy lifted his head. His eyes clashed with Y/N’s, and he almost jumped at how intensely she was staring at him. Y/N merely smiled before turning away.

“So, what do you think?” She asked Luke as they walked towards the Hermes cabin side by side, their shoulders brushing against each other.

“Hard to say for now.” Luke replied. Y/N looked at him and he stared back before the pair burst into quiet laughter. Just locking eyes could make two friends find anything hilarious.

“I assume you’ll take him under your wing? Good luck.” Y/N nudged him with her elbow, which seemed to be a normal gesture between them.

“Thanks, princess. See ya.”

Y/N turned around, almost crashing into a disoriented Percy Jackson. He seemed jumpy and panicked. Of course, how couldn’t he be? He had just unknowingly killed a monster and his mother had been taken.

“Hi. The first day is always rough. Don’t beat yourself up about it.” Y/N muttered to him before she passed by.

She didn’t stick around to hear Chiron announce him. She sighed, wandering aimlessly around the camp. She saw Clarisse talking to her siblings. Y/N had always wondered what it was like to have siblings you could relate to. What did it feel like to understand each other? To go through the same difficulties?

The Hermes cabin was comfortable and friendly enough but it wasn’t the same. She wanted to feel what a true family felt like, or at least was supposed to.

As Y/N had expected, Luke was the first to talk to Percy.

“I’m Luke.” He introduced himself to the boy after the rocky start to their conversation.

“Percy. Hey, uh, who was that girl before? The H/C-haired one?” He questioned, clearing his throat.

“Y/N. She’s nice most of the time the time but a pain in the ass during capture the flag.” Luke chuckled, shaking his head. “Nah. I’m just kidding. Don’t tell her I said that, though.”

“You guys seem close.” Percy uttered, remembering the way Luke looked at Y/N when they talked.

“Yeah. She’s my best friend. Unfortunately for me, her best friend is an aggressive Ares kid.” He grinned, fiddling with the hem of his shirt. “Feel free to lie down anywhere. Just don’t get too close to Y/N. If she’s having a monster dream, she kicks in her sleep.”

One of the campers across the cabin groaned. “I know how that feels. The bruise lasted for weeks!” The others burst into laughter while Percy hurriedly made a mental note.

Avoid the pretty girl when she sleeps.

Percy was lucky that Y/N, who lay on the floor a few feet away from him, wasn’t having one of her infamous nightmares. He couldn’t say the same for himself, though.

Percy sat up, panting and sweating. He looked around, realising where he was. Birds chirped in the distant and he could hear the faint sound of chatter through the wooden walls.

“You okay?” Luke asked.

“Super.” Percy sarcastically responded.

“We all have them here, you know.” Luke clicked his tongue and sighed. “Intense, reoccurring nightmares. That’s normal here. Take Y/N for example. When she first came here, no one wanted to get near her while she slept. Girl’s a bloody good kicker.”

Percy lightly chuckled while Luke smiled. “The daydreams and ADHA and dyslexia are normal too. Demigods just process reality differently than humans do. For the first time in your life, you’re just like everyone else.”

“So, are you also…” Percy trailed off, not wanting to sound rude to his first friend at camp.

Luke found his hesitation amusing. “Am I unclaimed? No. Hermes is my father.”

“And Y/N? Is her father also Hermes?”

Luke scrunched up his face like he had just eaten a sour lemon. “Oh, no. Heck no. Y/N’s unclaimed… still. She has been for a while.” The brunette pressed his lips into a thin line as he gazed at Y/N, who was laughing with Clarisse.

“Why hasn’t Aphrodite claimed her? I mean, she looks the part.”

“That’s what we’re all asking ourselves. We all thought she’d be Aphrodite’s kid.”

Boys and girls flocked towards Y/N like she was a muse. It was no secret that out of all the campers, Y/N stood out the most. There was something unique about her, how she always hung around the aggressive Ares kids like she wanted to be one of them.

She was a tough opponent but a little too soft for Ares’ liking.

Too gentle for Ares but too angry for Aphrodite. She was constantly stuck in the middle. It almost seemed like no god or goddess wanted her in their cabin because she had proved herself over and over again.

“How long has she been unclaimed?” Percy inquired. Kids before him had asked that very same question and every time, they were never ready for the answer.

“A decade.” Luke replied, “She’s been here for a decade. Last year, there was a stupid rumour going around that she was fully mortal but that doesn’t make sense. If she was, she wouldn’t be here in the first place.”

“Why so long?”

“Nobody knows.” Luke shrugged. He had wondered that too. And he could see how it was weighing down on Y/N. The unclaimed kid was what campers referred to her as. They used her as an example of what not to do.

“Will she ever get claimed?”

Luke hoped she would. For her sake. He knew how she felt about not having a related family of her own. For now, she was satisfied laughing over silly tales with the Hermes kids.

“So, where does she go during the day? She disappeared yesterday and today.” Percy tilted his head to the side, not being able to spot Y/N anymore. Luke paused. It was uncommon for him to not have an answer to everything.

“I… don’t know. I assume Clarisse and her go somewhere.”

“Probably swimming in the lake.” Grover said, overhearing the two’s conversation.

It was scorching during Summer at Camp Half-Blood. Most stayed in the shade while an occasional kid or two tended to the plants. So it would make sense that Y/N would go to a lake to cool off.

Luke left Percy in the company of Grover and made his way towards the Lake in the middle of the forest. As Grover guessed, he found Y/N and Clarisse and a few other Ares kids swimming in the water or sitting on the nearby rocks.

“Hey, Y/N, your lover boy is here!” One of them exclaimed. Y/N, from her spot in the middle of the lake, glared at him. She huffed before swimming over to Luke, easily heaving herself onto shore.

“Hey, Luke, ready to make your guess yet?” She asked, grinning up at him. “Or do you wanna swim?”

“My guess is definitely not Hephaestus.” Luke said as he sat down in front of Y/N. His gaze flickered to her new swimsuit. “New bathing suit?”

“Yeah. Miya got it for me.” Miya was a child of Aphrodite and favored Y/N quite a lot.

“Ah. No wonder it’s so…” Luke hesitated, “Revealing.” He tried to act like a gentleman but his cheeks flushed every time he even looked at Y/N.

“One more day until I kick your ass.” Y/N laughed as she sank back into the water, returning a moment later with her hair dripping wet and her face shining in the sunlight. She looked effortlessly angelic.

“Are you sure you’re ready to handle Y/N again, Luke? She almost beat you last time.” Clarisse snickered as she floated on her back.

Luke scoffed. “Keyword. Almost.” It was true that Y/N had almost beaten him in his own game of sword fighting but that was because she was becoming increasingly more distracting.

Gone was the shy and quiet kid who always trailed behind Clarisse. With every passing year, Y/N became more headstrong and, well, beautiful. That’s why it was so hard for Luke to keep his feelings to himself now. Even Clarisse could see through his facade.

“I’m ready to make my guess.” Luke finally announced, catching Y/N’s wavering attention. She arched an eyebrow, intrigued. “My guess… is Demeter. I met the kid and he seems gentle. A soft and kind soul.”

“Nice. I guess we’ll find out soon.” Y/N’s guess was nothing but a joke and she’d end up laughing if she was actually correct.

“Join me for a little swim?” Y/N asked, reaching out to tug on Luke’s shirt. He sighed while Y/N merely smiled. A moment later, he gave in. Luke lifted his shirt over his head while Y/N stared at him a little too shamelessly for her liking. Some of the Ares boys teasingly wolf-whistled which made Luke chuckle.

He jumped into the lake, practically tackling Y/N and taking her under with him. “Luke!” She yelled, hitting his shoulder when they resurfaced.

“Oh no. The married couple is fighting again.” Zyra, Clarisse’s half-sister, said. She and Clarisse shared a knowing grin.

“They’re so whipped.” Clarisse whispered, subtly swimming away to give the two more space.

It was the day Y/N had eagerly been waiting for. Perhaps her favourite day at Camp. Capture the flag day.

Clarisse handed Y/N a spear. “I got it fixed for you.” The brunette said. During the last game, Y/N’s spear had broken. She was forced to fight with half of it after that.

Y/N adjusted Clarisse’s armour, ensuring that it was tight enough before putting on her own helmet.

“You’re gonna love this.” She overhead Luke say to Percy as they passed by. “Camp-wide mock warfare. All glory to the victors. Annabeth’s the head counsellor. She’s led our team to three straight wins.”

Y/N looked away, giving Luke the perfect chance to gaze over at her. “Y/N and Clarisse lead the other team. Clarisse is rather… impulsive, though. Y/N’s come up with some good plans but Ares kids always go off the rails.”

“What’s the deal with you and Y/N anyway?” Percy suddenly switched the topic, much to Luke’s surprise. “I mean, you guys say you’re just friends but you’re always looking at each other. And talking. And you stare at her like she’s your world. Sometimes I wish I could look at someone like that.” Percy sighed while Luke was left speechless.

Luke cleared his throat and shook his head. “Let’s just… focus on the game.”

The conch shell blew. Y/N stood side Clarisse, twirling a strand of hair around her finger. “Heroes, it’s time.” Chiron announced. “The game begins. The first team to retrieve the opposing flag and return it across the river shall be the victor. As always, there will be no maiming and no killing. I trust these rules will be respected.”

He subtly glanced over at Clarisse and her cabin.

“Let the games begin.”

There was twenty minutes until the next conch shell, which meant game-on. Normally, Clarisse and Y/N would pair up and hunt through the woods for the first few hours. But Clarisse had a different idea this time.

“Good luck.” Y/N said to her friend, slinging her spear over her shoulder. Y/N split up with the rest of her team, taking with her small portion of campers.

“We follow Clarisse’s plan this time. We’re the last defense meaning that if the blue team manages to get through, we fight like our lives depend on it.” Y/N said as she gripped her spear tightly.

“What are going to do?” Someone else asked.

“I’m going to…. look around.”

Luke grunted as a sword piercing his upper arm. He easily disarmed his opponent and kicked them to the ground.

“We give up.” The red leader grumbled, wincing as their brushed their fingers over his cuts.

“I wanna move quick. Straight through the woods for their flag.” Luke uttered.

“Y/N and Clarisse hunt in those woods for the first few hours, you know that. They’ll cut us down.”

Luke grinned, shaking his head. “Annabeth has a plan for Clarisse. And Y/N, as always, is mine. Don’t worry about her.”

“Last time I didn’t worry about her, she almost chopped my head off. By accident!” Chris loudly exclaimed, shoving Luke. Unbeknownst to the pair, Y/N was watching from above in the trees, hidden by the thick leaves.

She skilfully hopped from branch to branch, sliding down in front of her teammates. “The blue team is coming. They got past the other defences. Get in position.” Y/N hid behind a thick tree branch, panting and listening carefully for the sound of Luke’s voice.

She heard a twig snap and peeked her head out slightly to see Luke, Chris, and the rest of their small team. Y/N looked up, signalling to her friends above that it was almost time.

The moment Luke, who was leading the pack, stepped right where Y/N wanted him, she revealed herself. “Now!” She shouted, raising her spear and striking Luke. He easily blocked her attack.

“Thought you could ambush us, princess? Nice try.” Luke chuckled, pushing Y/N back.

“I’d say that it worked just fine.” Y/N retorted, lunging at Luke again. She pinned him to a nearby tree, holding the blade of her spear to his throat.

Chris grabbed Y/N by her shirt, pulling her back. Luke swung his sword at her but Y/N simply ducked to avoid the blow.

She tried to run off to help her teammates but Luke blocked her path. “Where do you think you’re going?” He uttered, playfully furrowing his eyebrows.

Y/N scoffed, kicking his ankles. She pointed at spear at his chest, poking it ever so slightly. “Ready to give up, Luke?”

“In your dreams.” He rolled over, latching onto Y/N’s arm and pulling her down with him. Y/N yelped, quickly scrambling up before he could grab her again.

She looked around at her surroundings, finally understanding what Luke’s plan was. It was to keep Y/N away from her team so that Luke’s could take them down. That left Y/N solely alone, standing between the flag and the blue team.

She panted, glaring at Luke. “Bring it on, Luke.” She muttered, holding up her spear. Luke was the first to make a move. He jumped at her, swinging his blade. Y/N dodged it and blocked another attack from Chris.

She quickly lowered her head, tackling another Hermes kid. Y/N rolled across the floor, swiftly standing up. “You won’t be getting near that flag on my watch.” She kicked Luke and whacked Chris. One of the Athena girls launched herself at Y/N, gripping onto her leg.

Y/N shook her off but the girl’s weight caused her to topple over. The bits of debris grazed at her skin. Chris swung his sword, slashing at Y/N. The blade cut her lower arm and blood welled up from the slit.

Quietly groaning, Y/N heaved herself up. She lightly swayed, unbalanced and a little weak. “Like I said,” She murmured, “You aren’t getting that flag.”

Y/N blocked every attack and blow aimed her way but she was getting slow. She could barely lift her weapon fast enough to stop Luke from successfully landing a hit.

Everything was becoming too overwhelming as she struggled to keep up. It was all a fast blur filled with weapons violently clashing against each other and shouting.

Up above, thunder crashed and lightning flickered through the darkening sky. Rain poured down, drenching the campers.

The thunder got louder and the lightning brighter as the seconds passed until nobody could ignore it. A harsh flash of lightning hit a tree nearby, setting it alight.

“Y/N, watch out!” Luke shouted, reaching out. Strings of electricity rippled around Y/N as a burning tree branch fell towards her. Luke sprinted towards her, dropping his sword in the process. He tackled Y/N, shielding her from harm’s way.

She groaned as she hit her head, black dots swirling around in her vision. She felt numb and her head lolled to the side as she heard shouts of victory followed by gasps of surprise.

“Y/N L/N has been claimed by Zeus, the king of Gods and the God of thunder and ruler of the sky.”

#percy jackson series #luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #percy jackson #percy jackson x reader #luke castellan x you #one shot #percy jackson fanfiction #demigods #romance #zeus #greek mythology #roman mythology #annabeth chase #grover underwood

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fairyhaos · 2 months

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seventeen and babysitting kids

ib the return of superman w svt bc i watched all the eps w jeonghao + junshua recently and it made me soft :((

masterlist

seungcheol:

better with kids than some of the others, but cautious. has the experience to take care of the child, but he's worried about coming off as too mean or harsh bc he's used to dealing with grown men with the mannerisms of children instead of actual children n he's too afraid of making the children cry if he's too strict w them. is very Parent when it comes to looking after the child, like, literally acts like their mom and makes them eat their vegetables and fusses over them when they spill something and makes sure they go to bed on time. the efficient person when it comes to looking after children

jeonghan:

he's so sweet. maybe a little too sweet bc as soon as the child is making the slightest whining noises he's dropping everything and doing aegyo or getting out all the toys or offering snacks bc god forbid a child starts crying in his care :((( good at being all gentle wheedler when he's exhausted out of his mind tho but he's just so weak that he doesn't do it often. lets them stay up half an hour past their bedtime. plays hide and seek with them a total of twelve times in a row. he's exhausted by the end of it, but the parents are smiling and the child is telling them how much they adore jeonghan and really that makes it all worth it for him

joshua:

the adorable uncle!! spends fifteen whole minutes explaining his name to the child, before giving up and telling them to call him jisoo. which leads to even more confusion bc he has two names???? what???? very excitable, but also clueless. he's an only child, what can he say? lets the kid get away with most things. when he inevitably exhausts himself two hours in by going way too hard while playing chase, he speaks in a cutesy tone and tries to convince the child to play some more sitting down activities. it always works, and honestly even tho he's terrible at puzzles it's better than going thru fitness training for five hrs straight

junhui:

eagerly participates in the child's made up games! pretends he's a superhero spy with them, pretends he's a magic prince(ess) with them, pretends they're pirates and encounter a ginormous sea monster with them. forgets to feed the child dinner because they're too busy playing, and so he lets them eat a whole hour after their bed time and because they're so late it takes ages to wash up and tuck the child into bed and eventually, the kid is only just going to sleep and it's three am and the parents are pulling up to the front of the house. but it's okay, because the child had fun and junhui had fun too

hoshi:

loves it the most when the children pretend they're animals. or if they have animal toys. managed to get into a fight with one of the kids once bc they wanted to be a tiger and soonyoung insisted that only he could be a tiger. almost made the child cry before eventually agreeing that they could both be tigers. gets hungry really quickly, so he ends up eating half of the child's dinner, then gives them loads of junk food to compensate for it. bad idea though, because now he has a child that's bouncing off the walls and it takes him hours to convince them to Not try and be spiderman and climb the walls and to Please get into bed because your parents are going to be home any minute and they are going to Obliterate me if you're still up

wonwoo:

he's chill. acts like a ghost that's simply observing the child's movements. only speaks when they start doing something they shouldn't or when it's time for dinner or when they should go up and get ready for bed. sometimes plays with the child if they ask him really nicely, but most of the time he's zoned out and staring at the wall, letting the child do whatever they want (so long as it's within the rules that he's been given)

jihoon:

awkward with children. doesn't know what to do. introduces himself and then holds out his hand for the child to shake. sits on the couch like he's ready to bolt any second. ends up putting the tv on for the child so that the silence in the room isn't too deafening. definitely warms up more as the night goes on, and ends up engaging in conversation with the child about how their life is at school. he forgets the names of all the children that the kid mentions though so he has no idea who has drama with who and how they're all connected but he nods and frowns and gasps in what he hopes are all the right places

minghao:

he loves children. so eager to play with them, encourages them to introduce all their toys to him and their histories and their relationships. shows them his cool hand tricks, has them gaping at him in awe for several minutes after. he's very shy, surprisingly, so desperately wanting to be all hyper and loud with the child but worried it will come off as too excitable. tries to teach the child better habits, too, talking to them about handling emotions and how emotional manipulation w tears will Not work on him, nice try. makes sure they eat their greens, and helps them brush their teeth as they get ready for bed. reads them a book and does one last finger trick before patting them on the head goodnight <;3

mingyu:

dramatic. big baby. literally acts like a child too. by the end of the evening, he's made a new friend and has pinky promised thrice that he'll come over some time for a proper play date with them. lets the child do whatever they want, with him and just in general. doesn't force the child to eat their greens bc honestly he finds those yuck too, and lets them go to bed later bc they gave him the most adorable puppy eyes and he's weak for that. reads them like five bedtime stories, acts out two of them, and would have definitely sung a song as well if he hadn't gotten a text saying the parents were coming home. rated 10/10 by all the children he's looked after

dokyeom:

the sweetest :(((( literally the most adorable with kids. treats them as if they're his younger siblings. is unintentionally doing aegyo the entire time he's with them bc he's just being influenced by so much cuteness all around him that he does it too. lets the child play with his hair, his clothes, his fingers. does the child's hair for them when they ask, and throws them into the air so many times that the child is almost sick all over him. plays hide and seek several times, two of which he was the one hiding from the child. almost forgets to put the child to bed, but then tucks them in really nicely and sings to them so sweetly. can't leave the room until the child falls asleep tho bc they insisted on grabbing onto his fingers and won't let go bc they're afraid he'll go away :((

seungkwan:

very fussy over children. dotes on them like he's a rich musty aunt, pinching their cheeks and calling them adorable every five seconds. participates in their made up games, but is hit with reality minimum three times every game bc even though he loves pretending he's a princess dressed in a pink and purple dress, it does feel weird when reality slaps you across the face. very good at Following the Schedule, and becomes almost sergeant-like while the child is brushing their teeth, standing over them and measuring the time to make sure they're doing it correctly. kisses the child on the forehead goodnight, giving their cheeks one last squeeze before tucking them in for the night

hansol:

kinda just there to have food. he's good with children tho, paying the right amount of attention to them and making all the exaggerated facial expressions that they adore. finds kids rlly adorable, but also just kinda sits there n munches on snacks half the time. asks the child how much english they know, quizzes them on the numbers from 1 to 100. all in all he's pretty good with children, feeding them on time and getting them to bed on time. ends up being so good that they fall asleep a long while before the parents come home, so he's just kinda sitting on the couch n staring at the wall for a while

chan:

literally acts like a child too (2). great with kids and matches their energy immaculately. isn't really into dressing up or chasing, but he's great at made up games and board games. once spent the entire evening playing snakes and ladders, bc it was a tense match okay and he was sure the child had to be cheating bc how were they always ahead of him?? makes sure they eat their food properly + very good at convincing them their veggies taste delicious. watches the child jump on their bed for a solid ten minutes, despite having been given express instructions to Not let the child jump on the bed, but really, how can he say no when theyre so adorable?

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storydays · 4 months

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Brozone Older Brothers' NSFW Headcannons

🧡John Dory:

Whew, boy, are you in for a treat!

So it'd been 20 years-ish, since he'd been in Pop Troll culture, so he is out of practice when it comes to intimacy.

100% an ass and thighs man: You bend over in front of him, no matter what you're doing, instant hard on.

He's more of a grower than a shower: 5.1 inch normal and 5.3 when hard (Correct my if this is wrong bc I know nothing about penis education lmao)

Play with his ears, or even his tail, and he is instant putty in your hands.

Turn-ons include: edging (giving or receiving), eating you out/blowing you, (loves receiving more than giving but will still pleasure you as well as you did him) tying you up (and he knows some different knots from his adventuring days) and many more that I can't think of lol.

Def gives me top vibes but once in a while you'll catch him off guard and top the hell out of him

When you do top him, he is such a whiny little bitch, and you hold him there for hours until the sunshine peeks through your curtains.

Leave hickeys on his neck and he'll happily wear them and preen when you press a soft kiss to them when you're jealous.

When it's jealousy sex, angry sex, or sex in general, the bed will be creaking, Rhonda will be shaking, and anyone who happen to walk by the armadillo-bus will know exactly what's going on and run away in horror at the noises they heard.

He is a caveman when you first meet but starts to clean himself up a bit.

Is a total mess when it comes to cum. He cums buckets in you (if given consent), on your face, stomach, anywhere really.

Bruce:

Ooh, this is gonna be fun

So Bruce has had his fair share of lovers, and knows his way around different genitalia and how to expose his partner's feel good spots.

Ugh, please please pull his tail

Just like the rest of him, he's pretty girthy down there, but is still long enough to hit those special spots.

His hair is beautifully tamed, which means he is tamed down there too, and even learned to make different shapes and designs out of pubic hair.

Def a a shower and grower: 3.5 when flaccid, but a whopping 5.5 when hard

He knows how to use his mouth, hands, and tail to make his partner scream

Def a power bottom; watches you through half lidded eyes as you take what you want from him, occasionally praising or degrading you, depending on his mood.

He's a attentive lover, and will cherish everything about your lovemaking, and make sure you're okay.

Turn ons include: hair (only time) and tail pulling, you making eye contact with him while making lewd gestures, being a brat and teasing him, morning 69, and loves when you surprise attack him; so many emotions flood through him, and he allows you to take some control, before he takes over and pushes you over the edge, with a smug smirk.

Sex is like a game to him: the end goals are making you feel like a million bucks and making you drunk on his love. Will tease you by cumming first, before he allows you to cum.

He is one smug son of a bitch when you can barely walk, or when someone makes a comment about the hickeys on your body (he leaves them everywhere), or about the scratches and bite marks on his back.

📚 Clay:

Okay, so he wants to be the best you've ever had, so this bookworm absolutely studied up on how best to pleasure you. STUDIED FOR DAYS, and even studied while they were attempting to pleasure you.

Annoyed, you snatched the book from him, and turned the tables on them.

He's pretty average, right in the middle both length and thickness so pretty enjoyable for both parties.

Prefers giving than receiving, adores when you use your hair to hold him in place

THEY ABSOLUTELY ADORES THICCCCC THIGHS; (Yall see how thick Viva's thighs are? #CLIVIA )

Would spend hours in between your legs if you let him

Quite noises escape him....unless you bring out the dark green strap on and/or cock ring...then it's the Theatre Du Chatelet in y'all bedroom!

(Their brothers' overheard y'all one time, and the next day they all avoided your smirk and Clay's bright purple blush when you make a smart comment.)

Everyone sees him as serious/fun, but when you two are intimate, it's just Daddy and Baby Girl, it's up to you to figure out which is which, (😉)

Always uses protection just to prevent any accidents.

With you, he can let go of labels and just be Clay and they love you for that.

Turn ons: that strap on/cock ring, dem thighs, being pulled closer when they go down on you, you taking control, just you in general, teasing him in public, making suggestive comments in his ear while his brothers' and friends are around and he can't do nothing but try to make the blush go away and ac natural, glaring darkly at you when no one was looking.

He is clean and trimmed down there.

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sugarcoated-lame · 1 year

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Little sneak peek of my new Jake fic, ‘Always A Bridesmaid’ bc why not! (:

Jake Seresin x female Bradshaw!reader

Summary: Bradley tells all the guys at his wedding that his little sister is off limits… But when has Jake ever listened to Rooster?

warnings: none in this sneak peek other than mentions of alcohol/drinking i think, but the full fic will contain smut! 18+ minors dni

...

After sharing a dance with your dear Uncle Mav and relinquishing him back into the awaiting arms of Penny, you spend the next half hour moping at the table on your own. Absent-mindedly swirling the straw around in your drink, chin resting in your other hand as you watch the festivities going on around you.

And that’s how Jake finds you.

You were adorable. With your sparkling eyes and your hair pinned up into some intricate up-do that Jake wanted to see undone, a few pieces flowing down and framing your face. The hint of cleavage Jake could see beneath the cowl neckline of that lavender dress that hugged your curves so well as you leaned forward against the table, a slight pout on your lips as you observed everyone having fun on the dancefloor.

Jake could tell that you weren’t having a good time and he knew exactly why.

Little did you know, that earlier that morning while Bradley and his groomsmen were getting ready in a suite separate from the girls, your brother had had a “talk” with all the guys.

Debriefing about last night’s rehearsal dinner, Hangman, Coyote, and Fanboy—all of the single groomsmen—had been discussing a few of Natasha’s bridesmaids that they thought were cute. Especially the maid of honor.

Rooster’s ears had been ringing when he heard them describe you to a T, and Jake could practically see smoke coming out of them as he turned toward his friends, always the overprotective big brother ready to shut them down.

“The maid of honor,” all of the groomsmen turned to look at the mustached groom as he began to speak.

“Is my little sister. And she’s off limits.” At his words and the stern, serious tone of Bradley’s voice, Jake and the others collectively shut up, matching caught-out and shocked expressions on each of their faces.

“I mean it, guys, I don’t wanna see any of you hitting on her. I love you all like my brothers, but I’m not afraid to kick someone’s ass if I see you trying it on with my sister.”

The guys all knew that Rooster wasn’t bluffing. With rushed apologies and confirmations that they’d leave you alone, the tension left the room as they all laughed it off and went about their business getting ready for the ceremony.

With Bradley’s warning in mind, the dagger squad had spent the rest of the day being nice—but not too nice—whenever they spoke to you, and tried to keep their interactions with you to a minimum, so as not to face your older brother’s wrath.

Jake was ready to follow the rules too, it was Bradshaw’s wedding after all. He could hold off on pissing off his best frenemy for one night. At least that was the case, until the reception.

When he saw you sitting all alone, all gorgeous and sulking, Jake knew right then that he had to go talk to you. He knew he was the only one stupid enough—or brave enough, if you ask him—to go against your brother’s wishes, and who was Jake if he wasn’t stirring the pot?

Was it so wrong for him to help a pretty lady have a good time? And you were beautiful, strikingly so, so Jake wouldn’t mind if he got a little something out of it too.

Jake isn’t scared of your brother. Besides, Rooster was far too busy dancing with Phoenix, the newlywed couple far too preoccupied with making heart-eyes at each other to notice him making his way over to you.

Your eyes widen with intrigue as the tall, blonde pilot—Jake, or Hangman as he’d been introduced to you—sidles over to where you’re seated.

God, was he handsome. You sit up a little straighter as he plonks himself down in the chair next to you, a devilish smirk on his lips as he turns toward you.

“What is a pretty little thing like you doing sitting here all on her lonesome?” He inquires, a slight Southern drawl to his voice. Texan, maybe?

“Um… drinking?” Your answer is short, but you’re a bit caught off guard and still annoyed by the fact that all of your attempts at socializing tonight with anyone outside of the few members of your family and Phoenix, had failed.

But now, here was Hangman, going out of his way to talk to you and looking you straight in your eyes. His green gaze intense and leaving you a bit flustered.

Jake glances down to where you’re still toying with the straw in your near-empty glass. With that playful smirk still present on his face, he goes to speak again.

“Well, darlin’, I cannot in good conscience let you drink alone. What are you drinking and how ‘bout I buy you another one?” His question makes you scoff.

“Tequila Sunrise, and it’s an open bar so… no, you can’t buy me a drink.” You roll your eyes at the almost too handsome pilot.

Oh. Pretty and feisty. Jake was going to have a hard time staying away from you.

“Well then, how about I acquire you another one, and because I’m such a nice guy, I’ll even join you?” Jake winked at you and stood, striding towards the bar before you could even answer his question.

…

Update: the full story is up now! You can read it here ! <3

Thank you for reading! x

I hope to get the whole thing posted soon, it’s been done for a minute now tbh I've just gotta edit it <3

taglist: @wkndwlff @chaoticassidy @sebsxphia <3

#jake seresin #hangman seresin #jake hangman seresin #top gun maverick #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x you #jake seresin x female reader #hangman x you #jake seresin smut #hangman seresin x reader #hangman seresin x you #hangman #my writing #wedding jake wedding jake wedding jake !

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bug-bites · 3 months

Text

west side apartment, paper plane

tw: brief non-graphic mentions of ghost going thru war stuff and ghost's backstory in the comics (changed a few details because this is fanfic. duh), slight angst (bc yk,, yearning) but sort of fluff if ghost had a dollar for every moment he spent yearning he would have enough money to retire and live a happy life away from the military, also we're pretending british chinese takeout is good, not proofread :P

pairing: simon "ghost" riley x gn!reader (like always can be read as platonic or romantic)

characters: simon "ghost" riley

a/n: i hate how fucking massive the song link is but yk what its fine. but i am back and in a laufey moment!

simon has lived an interesting life, maybe he wouldn’t use interesting. if he could describe it he would probably use words like terrifying, cruel, or for a lack of better terms, shitty. from the moment he was born it seemed like misery and tragedy followed him around like a stray dog, finding its way into every aspect of his existence. his childhood home was always something he wanted to escape, or rather his father was what he wanted to run away from. there were good moments after he kicked the old bastard out, but the ever present threat of tragedy proved that it wouldn’t last. life had been cruel, dealing him possibly the worst hand possible, the only constant being misfortune, that is until you came along.

a temporary living arrangement. thats all it was. rent was a little too much for one person to afford, so you both signed the lease on a crummy, small, mixed-use apartment right in the middle of manchester. it wasn’t much, takeout dinners from the restaurant below and late rent payments were the norm but even with the busted heating, life in that apartment had never felt so warm.

after long shifts at your respective jobs he would come home, plastic bags of takeout in his hands, a sign for you to set a few blankets on the ground before both of you eat ungodly amounts of shrimp fried rice and orange sesame chicken. he could spend hours listening to you speak, nothing made him feel so at home. maybe it was the fact that the food was good and also inexpensive, or maybe it was because he was too exhausted to do anything else, but he loved those long sleepless nights spent sitting on the floor, talking about everything and nothing. simon cant imagine another time in his life when he was genuinely so happy or another time he laughed so hard water came out his nose.

he especially loved opening fortune cookies with you at the end of every meal. sure, he never believed in those fortunes but the idea was always fun to entertain. the sound of the cookie cracking open to expose the slip of paper, revealing what the future had in store for him usually filled him with a childlike curiosity. or at least got a laugh out of him.

“hah, mine says ‘there will be a happy romance for you shortly’. these things really could not be farther from the truth. bet yours is more accurate” you say, popping half of the broken cookie into your mouth “your father loves you and is always with you. remember that.” he reads out loud with a chuckle “oh. that- hm. yeah i take that back”

but the one thing he loved more than opening those silly fortunes with you or the late night dinners was after you both cleaned up the empty takeout boxes, taking the menus and folding them into paper planes. it became a sort of tradition after you got bored and began to mess around with the glossy paper that listed mouthwatering dishes and house specials. he could never get it right, one wing was always too big or his folds were clumsily made and uneven, making them practically incapable of flight but yours were the complete opposite. each crease made was perfect, every intricate pleat skillfully crafted to allow the small paper aircraft to glide through the air with ease. as you tossed your planes off the balcony of your shared flat, the sight of the plane sailing through the air as the sun set always filled the both of you with a sense of nostalgia. and of course you both picked them up and tossed them out because we dont mess w/ littering over here

simon cant help but look back at those simpler times and miss them. he knows from the start it was intended to be temporary, but he’s been through so much chaos and trauma all he just wants a quiet life where he doesnt have to be ghost. he just wants a nice warm home to come back to. it doesnt have to be big, it doesnt have to be expensive, it just has to feel like home. it just has to feel like you. its been so long since the two of you parted ways but as he stares at the last paper airplane that he kept, he cant help but wonder if you feel that way too. as he lies awake in his bed at the military base he’s stationed in, he spends those nights craving that domesticity he had with you. he recalls every memory, every minute detail that made him love that cramped apartment and maybe how he loved you even more.

#simon ghost riley #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #cod x reader #x reader #ghost call of duty #call of duty #call of duty mw2 #cod mw2 #simon “ghost” riley #songfic #can you tell i like writing abt domestic ghost?#anyways laufey songs as cod characters will probably be a series bc i have so much planned tee hee #maybe ill make a poll for whos next :3 #probably just tha 141 but who knows!#bug blurb #Spotify

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charmixpower · 8 months

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what are your hc's when it comes to the specialists hobbies? (+Nabu)

i'm kinda sad we don't really know a lot about them.

YEAH!!! Or if we know their hobbies, WE NEVER GET TO SEE THEM ENJOY THEM??? Unless ur Helia. Pretty people privilege

Sky

Listen, I need you to look at Erendor and Samara and tell me if Sky has a life or any real time for hobbies. The answer is no he does not

Listen dragon equestrian is a thing that exists in the magic dimension and he loves it do not argue with me this man loves it. Riding a dragon and doing tricks, what more could you want out of a sport???

He also spends so much time teaching Lady tricks you'd think he was entering her into a competition. He's not, he is simply having fun

Sky really likes running, and walking. With or without Lady, he is content to run around with this thoughts. It's his favorite form of exercise

I think Sky would enjoy at least some of the royalty approved activities pushed on him, like riding horses and dragons obviously, but also dancing. (Though he would hate learning how to play an instrument or something that required sitting without movement)

I think he'd like the fake duel's and mock battles like fencing over real combat but that's just my version of Sky that lives in my head talking

I don't think Sky is really snobby about anything that isn't tea. Does he argue with other people about which tea tastes the best? Maybe. It's like part because he and Diaspro have opposite tastes in tea and they will argue about anything, part because tea was the only meal he wasn't being hovered over because it's supposed to be a bit more informal than a real meal, half because magix doesn't have all that good tea options

Brandon

He suffers from has no life syndrome too but worse actually bc he's had a government job at 17!!!

Does crafting and maintaining an Instagram presence count as a hobby? I mean I do this as a hobby so I'm gonna say it counts. Making thinking your hot into a hobby, I wish I were him

I have no clue if Brandon genuinely enjoys weightlifting or gymnastics or if he does it because it's literally required of him but I DO think he'd enjoy exercise in general. Like?? He's getting hotter, better able to handle situations, AND it makes him feel great. 10/10 he loves it

I think Brandon would enjoy calligraphy. I have like multiple friends who are on their handwriting bullshit and Brandon would absolutely be one of these people. He'd write exclusively in fancy capital letters while pretending to be Sky, but he also like genuinely knows calligraphy and enjoys it. No one knows cept Sky until Stella wants to write something formally and he writes it for her

Brandon is way too chill of a person, and while I think he's like naturally good at controlling his emotions I also think he does SOMETHING for mindfulness. Reads self help books, does meditation, something that helps him stay so fucking chill all the time

On that topic I also think Brandon likes psychology, like the "why do people act the way they do?" side. Just a little bit, he gets along with way too many insane people to not have at least a little idea

Timmy

He's the least interesting specialist to me in canon so he's where I'm on my bullshit. Listen man we don't need TWO computer wizs, we can have one computer genius and an engineering nerd. For the sake of everyone around Tecna not being the exact same as her AND for my enrichment

Timmy is obsessed with their air crafts. He can talk for HOURS about types of planes, the Owl assigned to their squad is literally his fucking baby and Riven is NOT allowed to pilot it EVER. He lost his mind just a little bit when he's got to pilot a Hawk with Helia, he was so excited. This is definitely his main hobby and why he's in the RF air force track instead of the engineering track, he WILL fly and nothing will stop him

If Legos exist in the magical dimension he's obsessed with them and makes the most insane builds and you know I'm right

Riven absolutely gets Timmy into lock picking. Lock picking is just a logic puzzle that also has a real life application and they spend so much time trying to pick difficult locks when they need a no think thing to do

And speed running, all the specialists have a tendency to just watch him play a video game stupid fast and it's group bonding

Shooting is a sport and one that Timmy enjoys immensely

Riven

Reading. No I'm so serious he's the character shown holding a book the most often. This man reads. Tbh he's probably reading about types of magical animals that specialists are called in to deal with, and their behaviors. That and like lists of forgeable plants

Riven also sews and makes his own clothes! Like it's a restoration thing but also Riven just likes fashion and has very specific ideas for clothes so he just makes them himself.

Riven is the most passionate about sword play and combat. Like it's genuinely fun for him, I think if everyone was set loose they'd drift away from being in the military except Riven. This is his passion. Survivalist stuff is also a huge passion of his. It's his concentration at RF I will never shut up about that hc. His dream job is dealing with magical animal threats in the wilderness, everyone thinks he's just a little insane

That and podcasts. Oh my god the podcasts Riven would have listened to in middle school, cringe worthy, they're EXACTLY what your thinking and it's terrible. Thankfully he listens to calming podcasts and like educational podcasts now, and the occasional true crime one

I'm not sure if lock picking is a hobby for him or if it's just something he HAD to learn, but he takes a lot of pride in it so I'm assuming it's a hobby. Riven likes logic puzzles and that's what lock picking is

Does Riven have an interest in photography or did he print off pictures from Musa's Instagram, the world may never know

Helia

We know the most about his hobbies. Painting, origami, and poetry. Helia is well and truly vibing, and by that I mean I bet you he spends hours agonizing about every detail <3

He probably also has a bullet journal, it's the vibes, do you understand where I'm coming from?

I think Helia would be super into general DIY in every area and at one point he gets Timmy into helping refurbish a chair he found, sometimes he just wants to work on something and that something is a chair he picked up off the curb

Helia definitely picked up how to use his string gloves for fun and to have a body active hobby and he loves it? I think Helia would really enjoy doing things that challenge him and he has the most esoteric weapon so it fits

I also think Helia's glove string weapon is as much of a weapon as it can be used for string art? I think he'd like string art

Helia can parkour and that's on wanting to get the PERFECT angle for his reference piece and know he's 40 ft in the air, Saladin slowly lost his mind when he adopted Helia after his parents died because the kid would not stop climbing on RF

Helia is also a chronic people watcher. At least 70% time when he's people watching he's also drawing them but sometimes he's too tired for that XD

Nabu

Learning about his hyper fixation magic. Listen this man will DEMOLISH a library in a week to learn about the intricacies of runic magic, he is vibrating in his shoes

Okay I know Timmy is the one who you'd assume would like this the most, but I think if you put a ttrpg in front of Nabu he'd fucking love it??? He would either spend 2 million hours world building as the DM or get way into role playing

I think Nabu spends a lot more time fucking around and having fun with his magic than most magic users. Like learning how to make small intricate beautiful things with his magic. I definitely think there would be an art form based around magic that Nabu would be super into that

Nabu absolutely is a history buff too. Like knows about ancient techniques for making things off the top of his head can list most major developments in each century when prompted history buff and I love him

He probably also has a rock collection, this man is autistic and we have rock collections. Sometimes the rocks are magically and that's always exciting

Nabu and Flora spending hours researching a random ass specific phenomenon and having the time of their lives

#winx club #rus chatters #winx headcanons #winx club headcanons #winx sky #winx brandon #winx timmy #winx riven #winx helia #winx nabu #winx specialists

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vettelsvee · 2 months

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INFINITY, a Sebastian Vettel fanfiction. 01. LOVING HIM WAS RED

INFINITY MASTERLIST HERE! previous part: 00. LOVING HIM WAS RED (click here and you'll read it!)

warnings: none of them really! just seb having a one night stand bc he just wants to forget diana, and britta just being so mad at him. important to add that diana will be a singer in the future, so many female singers won't exist in this fanfiction (ex.: taylor swift, little mix, xamila cabello, etc.).

taglist: @blackkcami @majx00 @solphin @xoscar03 @casperlikej if you wanna be added to INFINITY's taglist let me know! thank you so much to all of you who wanted to be tagged, and hope you like this chapter <3

2018 April 27th (Diana's birthday) Baku, Azerbaijan

Sebastian

I woke up as soon as I felt the sun's rays hitting me directly in the face, and at the moment I noticed a surprisingly warm presence, next to me, in bed.

I glanced at my phone and saw that it was already 7.30 in the morning. Not only did I realize that my alarm hadn't gone off and I had overslept by an hour and a half, but it also that it was Diana's birthday.

Like every other year, there was no response from her to the email I had scheduled to be sent at midnight.

After almost five years of knowing very little about her, and having seen her a couple of times in Heppenheim, from a considerable distance, I knew why I kept doing this deep down. I still loved her, that's all. I held onto hope for a meeting where we could catch up on each other's lives and, maybe, start just a friendship as if nothing had happened, as if she hadn't chosen to leave my life and acted as if she didn't know me.

I decided to turn around to see what was getting closer and closer to me, almost pulling me out of bed. It wasn't hard to come face to face with blue eyes that weren't the green ones I had dreamed of that night. Brown hair, not blonde, though still fair skin was what characterized the girl who apparently had slept with me that night.

Suddenly, memories from just a few hours ago started forming in my mind. A few too many beers I shouldn't have had at a local pub just because I wanted to escape the blurry memory of Di were responsible for me meeting this charming girl with an incredible smile.

My head couldn't piece together how we ended up here, but I suppose her insistence, my invitation to her to come with me to the hotel, and maybe the taxi ride I paid for were the final outcome of my desire to escape reality.

That had been my routine ever since I realized my ex-girlfriend wasn't coming back into my life. I didn't like being this Seb, the womanizer, and although I had tried to seek a stable partner, kindness, fun, and temporary refuge had been the best to try to forget about a Diana Wagner, who always found a way to sneak into my thoughts at the least expected moment.

I quickly got out of bed and, almost without thinking and without needing to undress, I got into the shower and did my best to let the warm water wash away everything I had allowed to happen the night before. I closed my eyes and let myself go as much as I could. I tried to organize my thoughts and tried to find the easiest way out of the problem I had fully immersed myself in, but I just couldn't find one that succeeded.

I got out of there faster than I would have liked. The moment I returned to the room, with the towel wrapped around my waist, leaving my entire torso exposed, I found myself facing the one I had been avoiding confronting at all costs.

The brunette was already stretching out in bed, lingering, and probably unwilling to leave.

"Would you mind leaving?" My rhetorical question made her just look at me in surprise, her eyes still sleepy.

"Why, Seb? Can't we spend the day together? I could come with you to the paddock and repeat what we did last night in your driver's room or whatever you call it," she suggested with a playful smile. "You know as much as I do that it would be fun."

I feel a knot forming in my stomach at her suggestion. It's not that I hadn't enjoyed her company or it was forbidden to do so, but the simple fact of knowing who was turning thirty today, and that proposal was something I used to do with her...

"I don't think it's a good idea..." Damn, I couldn't remember her name.

"Alessia."

"That's it, Alessia," I confirmed. "You know how these things are and what it could mean for us to be seen together. We could meet another day as... friends."

Neither my response nor hers were what we expected from each other. After hearing her name, I recalled the brief introduction she gave me: newly emerging music and a member of a highly successful Italian orchestra.

An Italian version of Di, and to my misfortune, and possibly the blonde's, successful.

"The way you moaned my name last night, and especially so many times, isn't exactly something friends do. You made me feel special last night, a lot."

"I'm sorry, Alessia, that wasn't what I meant," I clarified, my cheeks slightly flushing at her statement. "I hope you enjoyed last night, but it's time for you to get dressed and return to your hotel or wherever you're staying. I have to go to work," I added, trying not to succumb to her obvious charms.

After several more attempts to convince me, the girl finally resigned herself and reluctantly accepted my suggestion. I felt uncomfortable as she discarded the sheets and began to pick up her clothes, completely naked. Even worse, I felt as I watched her slow and deliberate movements, as if she were prolonging the inevitable farewell and trying to arouse me.

I bit my lip and avoided doing or saying anything when she asked for help with her dress zipper. I could have refused, but I didn't want to seem rude, especially considering that the time I had spent with her had made me feel just as I had with my ex-girlfriend.

Once we finished, the Italian approached me with determination. Before I could react, her lips sought mine with clear intent. I instinctively turned my face, causing the kiss to land on my cheek rather than my lips.

"Alessia..."

What could I say in a situation like this? Did she deserve the hurt I was going to cause her even when all we had was a night of unrestrained sex, like so many others I had had with other girls?

"I'm sorry," she murmured hurriedly, looking away. "I thought... well, we could have something more than just a one-night stand."

My heart sank at her words, and as I already anticipated, because it was what always happened in these cases, the feeling of guilt engulfed me.

I knew I had been unfair to her by allowing this to happen, by letting her believe there could be something more between us and that the problem was hers when the only one to blame for everything was me, who hadn't moved on from the love of my life after four years, almost five, of zero contact.

"Alessia, you're an amazing person," I began, trying to find the right words and not hurt her any further, "but right now, the only thing I want to focus on is my work and working on myself. It wouldn't be fair for you to be part of all of this and come out of it badly."

"I understand," she said softly, nodding with a sadness that, although I expected, surprised me. "Thank you for letting me spend this night with you, Sebastian."

I felt overwhelmed and, at the same time, with a great mix of relief and remorse as I watched her leave without even looking back.

When enough time had passed for me to be sure I wouldn't run into her, I went down to the hotel lobby still feeling heavy. I tried to shake off that feeling, but as soon as I saw Britta, standing at the entrance with her arms crossed and a stern look on her face fixed on me, I knew it was going to be difficult.

"Sebastian, again?" she asked, full of frustration.

"Yes, and I'm not going to apologize for something I don't regret," I replied with honesty, knowing there was no way to avoid the conversation that was coming.

"Are you going to keep up with this game much longer?" she reproached as she increased her pace. At the same time, she tried not to cause too much commotion or attract attention. "You've been unsettled for longer than I'd like to say."

"I'll settle down when I get tired of sleeping with girls I don't even know, I guess. Having sex is good for health, you know? Be thankful I don't usually give you much trouble after these nights."

Britta sighed, and I knew my response was testing her already dwindling patience.

"I know you haven't asked for my opinion, but I think what would make you stop from fucking random girls almost every Grand Prix weekend would be, at the very least, try to have some contact with Diana."

The blonde's name brought back a wave of emotions that I had tried to bury for years, hitting me suddenly.

"You know I can't do that. It's impossible. I've tried like a thousand times, but she just doesn't want to take part of whatever thing I'm trying to do."

"You should try once again, at least. I know there's nothing, and no one, that will change her mind," and it was true. Diana was the most stubborn person, for better or for worse, that I had ever known in my life, "but I also know that if you keep avoiding facing your feelings and trying to forgive yourself for what happened, you'll never find the peace that you not only desire but also deserve."

"I know, Britta. I know, but..."

"But what, Sebastian? It's just that..."

"Have you ever heard of the invisible string theory?"

She raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised by the change of topic and possibly because I didn't let her finish speaking. She slowed her pace, and for the first time in the short time we had been together that day, I felt calm and even understood.

"Yes, I've heard something about it," she said after a few seconds that felt like an eternity. "What does that have to do with getting over your ex-girlfriend?"

"Everything, actually," I declared. "Di and I 'dated,' if you could call it that, for ten days during the Christmas of '99. She was 11, and I was 12, and I was a bit stupid because I ended up breaking up with her when I fell in love with a new classmate who ended up dating my cousin."

"But..."

"Then Di and I became friends again," I continued, trying not to let her interrupt my impromptu speech, "and it took six years for her to tell me she loved me. I didn't want to acknowledge my feelings and decided that not speaking to her for four months was the best thing to do, not even to offer condolences after her grandmother's death... And look, in the end, I asked her out!"

My PR sighed, probably tired of hearing that story again and again, which I would never tire of telling because, sometimes, reality surpassed fiction.

"I'm going to tell you what I've always told you since Di left, and I don't care if you don't want to hear it: you're still holding to hope, thinking that everything will go back to how it was, even though you know it's not possible," she said without a hint of doubt. "Even if you were to meet her and have a deep conversation with her, your lives will have changed. At least yours has, and I'm sure hers has too."

"I mentioned the invisible string theory because I have the feeling that there's something else. I feel, besides there being one thing, unknown, that binds us for some reason, that third time's the charm," I confessed.

That seemed to have caught her off guard. Now, her stride had halted, and she started passing her accreditation to enter the paddock much more slowly than she used to.

Maybe it was just as she said, that I was holding on, too much, to hope and to the fact that everything will be the same as it was, but there had been many days now where I had been dreaming about Di like I hadn't done for months. It had never happened to me before, but the past few days had felt as if she had never really left my life, and had always been there, distant.

The last time I had this feeling ended with me seeing her from afar playing with a little girl she was probably taking care of to earn some extra money.

Obviously, I didn't dare approach because she seemed... happy.

"I'd like to keep talking about this, but I want you to stop thinking about Diana even for a few hours and focus on today," the change in tone from my public relations made it clear she was serious. "We have quite a few things to do."

"Well, enlighten me, ma'am."

"First, you have a meeting with the team to discuss possible strategies in Free Practice that could help for tomorrow's qualifying," the blonde began to explain, pulling out her agenda and reviewing the day's schedule. "Then it seems you have an interview for SkySports with Nico Rosberg, and maybe you'll have a meeting to take part of a collaboration with a brand, but I need to look into that with more detail."

"At what time am I supposed to be with the engineers?"

"Nine thirty-ish, but..."

I yawned, not bothering to cover my mouth as my PR continued talking. The heaviness in my eyelids was increasing, and I felt the exhaustion from the previous night starting to take its toll. I glanced at my phone and saw, to my dismay, that it was only eight-fifteen.

Was the day passing by so slowly for me?

"Understood," I replied, pretending I had been paying attention to everything Britta had said. "By the way, do you mind if I go to my driver's room to rest for a bit?"

"Sebastian..."

"I had a fantastic night," I admitted, causing her to cross her arms and once again look at me with a stern expression, "but I haven't slept at all, and if I want to perform well, I need to sleep at least a little."

"You have forty-five minutes," the blonde snapped. "Don't you dare be late, or we'll have problems. Set your alarm and make sure your phone is has the sound on in case someone calls you."

It's not going to be Di, that's for sure.

"I'll do it, don't worry."

I left Britta after exchanging a few more words with her and hurried as much as I could. With every step I took, I felt more tired. I knew I should have slept, at least, for about six hours, but I succumbed to last night's temptation just to, why not say it, have a good time, and, as it had become routine since 2014, try to succeed in the mission of forgetting Di on her birthday.

Another year, it had been impossible.

I didn't know if it was due to the lack of sleep or the lack of attention I was paying, but the voices were becoming increasingly distant to me. All I could hear as I walked down the pit lane was a growing murmur where the words viral and song seemed to be the protagonists, especially coming from the mouths of Max, Daniel, and I would swear, Charles.

"Have you heard this song?" I heard Verstappen say. I decided to stop when the first piano chords began to play. "It seems like a pandemic. It's everywhere."

"I don't know who the girl singing is, but she has such an incredible talent," Ricciardo continued. "Do we know who...?"

"You don't know if it's a girl!" Leclerc reproached, hitting the Australian on the arm. "What if it's a guy with a high voice?"

I laughed at the younger ones' antics, wondering if that's how my former teammates saw me like when I was their age.

Losing him was blue like I never knew Missing him was dark gray all alone Forgetting him was like trying to know somebody you never met Cause loving him was red

If my eyes were almost automatically closing, after hearing the chorus, or whatever it was called, it felt like I had taken an energy drink that woke me up. The moment that voice, raspy and sweet at the same time, penetrated my ear, my hair stood on end.

Its familiarity was incredible but no, it couldn't be her. It was impossible.

"Please, who is capable of playing the piano while singing? I couldn't do it. I'm such an idiot who has zero cordination"

"I have two questions," Daniel interjected, ignoring Charles' words. "The first is who the hell it might be, and the second is how the hell they've garnered so much attention out of nowhere."

It's Di, who else could it be.

I tried to control all kinds of thoughts that were running through my head. I knew my ex-girlfriend's voice perfectly, and the one coming from the Dutchman's phone was quite similar to hers.

"Maybe it's a marketing strategy, at least that's what Fernando thinks," Max always had the Spaniard on his mind. "What if it's a record label's marketing strategy? It might be a plan to generate interest in an artist or a song."

"I doubt it. If they wanted to do that, the YouTube account wouldn't have the name 151206010614."

Lewis appeared by my side out of nowhere. Quickly removing his headphones, he disconnected them from his phone as well, allowing the song to play at full volume.

"Seb, are you okay?" the Brit insisted.

"Yes, yes. I was just a bit distracted," I hurried to say.

He didn't seem very satisfied with my response, but I didn't care much. All I could think about at that moment was how much I wanted to get to the hospitality area already, and how much I felt like taking a power nap at this point.

"Are you also distracted thinking about this anonymous person?"

"I can't be distracted by something I know nothing more about than what I've heard from them," I replied, pointing to the three drivers who were still engrossed in the conversation on the topic.

"I've heard something, yeah," the dark-haired man replied. "I think I understand a bit more about music than they do. I'm almost sure it has nothing to do with a record label, and that someone just uploaded it without any expectations, and look."

I looked at him intrigued, understanding little to nothing of what he was saying.

"As I see you're confused, I'll explain a bit more," Hamilton continued, realizing I didn't seem to comprehend much. "It seems they've uploaded this song to YouTube," he hit play and started it again, now from the beginning, "called Red. It seems to be about a failed relationship, but no one knows who sings it or what the true story behind it is."

"Really, no one knows anything?" I insisted, finding the situation very strange.

Why did the voice seem familiar only to me? Was it because today was Di's birthday, and everything reminded me of her much more than usual?

"All we know is that the song is wonderful. I really don't know what's behind this, but if that girl, if it is her, is discovered and given a chance, she can achieve great things."

We decided to move a little further down the pit lane, exchanging some words with those we passed. Lewis kept talking about the song. I couldn't stop thinking and analyzing the melody, the lyrics, the voice, and above all, the username. I knew there was something hidden behind that number, and now the priority of getting some sleep before the first free practice session had taken a back seat.

I tried all possible combinations. Numbers from front to back, in pairs, trios, and even quartets, but nothing convinced me completely. While the melody of Red continued to resonate from the Mercedes driver's iPhone, my mind kept trying to extract information because something inside me, which was not even close to the feeling I had every 27th of April, knew it was Di.

I managed to find the supposed answer shortly after, recalling some of the dates so important to us. If I divided the username into three different sections, with two pairs of numbers each, the first one corresponded to June 15, 2006.

The day I asked Di to be my girlfriend.

If that were true, the second pair of numbers corresponded to the date of January 12, 2014. There was no doubt that I was no longer dating Diana at that time, but I knew her perfectly, and not to boast, but I was convinced that that date had to be extremely important to her if it was alongside our anniversary.

I wish I could know what it is.

"Are you listening to me?"

Remembering him comes in flashbacks and echoes Tell myself it's time now gotta let go But moving on from him is impossible When I still see it all in my head In burning red

I ignored to what my mate said after listening, for the first time paying attention, to that bridge.

Somehow, the song described my feelings perfectly, and I didn't know why I felt that way. I couldn't let go of Di, not when she had been, and still was, the love of my life.

I entered WhatsApp almost automatically and went to Di's profile. She didn't have a profile picture, but I knew perfectly well that it was her because her contact was still added with the same name. I quickly wrote to her that I knew it was her who was hiding behind the song and that, somehow, I knew it was about me.

I saw Britta approaching quickly towards us. She was also immersed in her phone, constantly moving her fingers over it. I didn't pay much attention to her because once I showed my desperation to Di, I passed it on to Hanna, trying to convince her to reveal that it was our best friend.

"Seb, we need to talk seriously," Roeske hurried to say, almost choked. Her gaze remained fixed on the device.

"Britta, I can't right now, I'm sending..."

"Sebastian Vettel, this is serious."

When she snatched the phone from my hands and made eye contact with her, I guessed that things didn't seem to be going very well. The moment she turned her gaze to Lewis and he walked away, patting me on the shoulder, I knew.

"What's wrong?" I asked, quite angry. "Why are you acting like a neurotic who seems to have lost a million euros in a ridiculous bet?"

"I don't want you to answer anything related to Red. For God's sake, don't answer to anything related about that damn song."

And again, another sign appearing to make me feel like I hadn't fallen into madness.

"Sebastian, trust me," Britta remained firm in her expression, crossing her arms. "I don't want you to get into trouble because the song was uploaded by..."

"Di."

I felt the answer in her eyes. I knew her and knew she wanted to answer me and, at the same time, didn't.

Britta knew that, but she also had the feeling that she seemed to want to hide something.

"It's her in the song, isn't it?" I insisted, but she didn't respond. "Britta, please, tell me."

I was desperate, and it was more than obvious. A sigh and a few seconds filled with uncertainty preceded her response:

"If you already know, is it necessary for you to ask me? You know the love of your life much more than I do, Sebastian Vettel. Of course, it's Diana," she revealed, taking a great weight off my shoulders and, above all, making me believe that I could have faith in the future.

next part: 02. HAPY BIRTHDAY, MAMA! (available on friday, 15th march!)

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whatsnewalycat · 2 years

Text

Just Dumb Enough to Try

Chapter 26: This Must be the Place

Word Count: 4.5k+

Pairing: Javier Peña x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+ only)

Tags / CW: swearing, pregnancy, fluff fluff fluff, love notes, smut, oral sex (f receiving), teasing, unprotected PIV sex, gave javi some gray sweatpants bc he deserves it and so do we

Chapter Summary: Our heroes spend the morning together.

Notes: Chapter title from "This Must be the Place" by Talking Heads. This is the last chapter!! Holy shit! I'm putting this out earlier than anticipated because I'm getting antsy about it and I really like it as is. Seriously I'm going to go cry now, because I'm feeling sad and proud and excited all at once. I'll *probably* write more with these two in the future, though. That sounds fun. If you liked it let me know, pleaaaase, I'm a whiney baby that loves reassurance!! OK THANK YOU SO MUCH!

[ Masterlist for Series ] [ Taglist ] [ Spotify Playlist ] [ AO3 ]

Peña Ranch, Laredo, TX November 29, 1998

Your eyes blink open to late morning light pouring onto the bed. As they attempt to adjust from the darkness of sleep, you clamp them shut, rolling over to throw your arm across Javier.

Except, he’s not there. Your arm flops onto something crinkly instead. One eye cracks open and finds a pile of papers folded in half where your boyfriend usually is. Their ragged edges are intact, proof that they were yanked out from the spine of a spiral notebook.

You pick up the bundle and blink both eyes open.

“READ ME” is scrawled on the top fold in Javi’s messy script. You take a deep morning yawn and wriggle upright, propping yourself up on a stack of pillows. The comforting scent of brewing coffee wafts into the bedroom. Javi is humming along to the radio in the kitchen. Pans clatter and cupboards slam by his hand as you unfold the stack of papers and start reading.

—

December 5, 1993

I can’t stop thinking about you. How are you even doing this to me?

Yesterday I went to your apartment building. Your bedroom lights were on and the blinds were closed. I sat outside for an hour, knowing you were there, unable to bring myself to do anything about it.

Even if I could have gathered the courage to knock on the door, what would I have said to you?

I like the feel of your hand in mine. I like your laugh. You’re beautiful. Do you want to go on a date with me?

Those words shouldn’t make a man like me nervous, but they do. So nervous that I left San Antonio without letting them leave my mouth.

—

December 1, 1994

It’s been a year since I kissed you.

I had to leave. I’m sorry. Duty calls.

Maybe we’ll meet again. Sometimes I hope we don’t. It’s for the best. You’ll find someone better.

—

June 4, 1998

I can’t tell you this. So I’m writing to you. I know you’re engaged, and you’re happy with Dan fucking Baker. Even though it makes no sense to me.

But I’ll be damned. Every time I look at you I remember exactly what you felt like. What you taste like. I crave your lips on mine again.

—

June 13, 1998

When I’m with you, we’re opposite poles in magnets resisting the inevitable. The pull is so strong, I ache. You feel it, too. I can tell.

Your lips, your touch, the perfect way I fit inside you. I can never unlearn these things. I’ve tried. They’re etched in my bones. It’s fundamental, as central to my being as breathing.

I long for you, love. It’s torture.

—

June 25, 1998

I am in love with you.

So, here I am, writing to you, imagining I had the guts to say it.

This is absolute fucking madness, cariño. But I woke up next to you and saw you there and I knew.

—

July 30, 1998

I don’t know where you are, but I saw you. I can feel you. I don’t know how I know, but I know. You’re scared. I’m scared, too. I’ve never been so terrified to lose someone.

When I lost my mom, I didn’t get to be scared. One moment she was on her way back from the grocery store, and the next she was gone. In an instant, the sun in our lives burnt out.

You would have loved her. Everyone did, she was just that kind of person. She had a wit about her. Lit up any room she walked into, but nobody fucked with her.

She loved deer because of their polarity and intuition. They’re gentle, fierce, cautious, adventurous. They shed and regrow their antlers. She said they’re symbolic of duality, listening to your gut feelings, renewal and growth. She would have loved you, too.

There are so many things I want to tell you. I should have listened to you. I didn’t let you come with me. You trusted me to protect you, and I didn’t. I’m so sorry.

I promise I will find you. I love you and miss you so much, cariño. Please hold on a little bit longer.

Tell baby Peña I say hello and that I love them, too.

—

August 1, 1998

I’m watching you as you sleep in our bed. You’re battered, bruised, stitched together… but you and the baby are ok. It’s a fucking miracle, cariño, I swear.

I introduced myself to your parents in the hospital waiting room last night. Your dad looked at my extended hand like there was shit smeared on it. They’re right to not want anything to do with me right now.

It’s a good thing their approval means approximately jack shit to you. Because I am never letting you go.

—

November 29, 1998

Today’s the day I give you the letters I never thought I would, so I can show you how much I love you. How much I’ve always loved you.

Come out to the kitchen, baby.

—

You sniffle and rub the tears out of your eyes and set the unfolded stack of love letters down on the black duvet, then scoot to the edge of the bed. The floor is cool on the soles of your feet, one then the other. Javi starts singing “I Just Want to Dance With You” by George Strait. Your heart swells with love. You grab your fuchsia robe from the back of the desk chair and tie it around your body as you emerge from the bedroom and follow his voice.

He’s leaning on the kitchen island over a newspaper crossword puzzle, one hand holding a pen as the other slides his wire framed glasses up the bridge of his nose, singing, “I caught you lookin' at me when I looked at you; Yes, I did, ain't that true? You won't get embarrassed by the things I do; I just wanna dance with you…”

You greet him with a giddy smile, padding across the floor towards him, “Good morning.”

A smile stretches across his handsome face when he peers up at you from the newspaper, “Good morning, beautiful.”

He sets the pen down and pushes off of the counter, meeting you with an outstretched hand. You take it, and he pulls you close, placing one hand on your waist. He guides you in a clumsy waltz to the tempo of the music.

You giggle at him as he presses his forehead to yours. The lyrics of the upbeat ballad drift from his mouth, hot on your cheek. When the song ends, he keeps his fingers interlaced with yours and leads you to the kitchen island, where you take a seat on a stool across from him.

He goes to the coffee pot and pours you a cup, then sets it down in front of you. Steam curls out of the white ceramic mug that reads CAVE WITHOUT A NAME. You wrap a hand around it, humming with glee, “Thank you, baby.”

“Did you sleep good?” he asks, a grin spread across his face as he leans his elbows onto the newspaper.

He is up to something.

“I did,” your face flushes as your fingertip runs along the circumference of the steaming mug, collecting condensation, “I, um- I read your notes.”

He brings his coffee mug to his lips and takes a sip, then sets it down and asks, “Did you like them?”

You nod and your mouth gapes open as you try in vain to formulate words that could possibly explain the love and devotion bubbling inside you. Every moment you spend with him makes you love him even more. A feat you didn’t even think was possible. Yet, here you are. He wakes you up with love notes, dances with you in the kitchen, smiles at you with those fucking dimples, and you’re falling in love all over again.

The euphoria that cycles through your veins when he’s touching you. The dread that clutches your heart when you imagine existing without his presence. The deep ache of adoration in your chest when you stare at him long enough to feel sentimental about it. All the ways he occupies your body and soul. Every ounce of you knows that this is it .

Everything you can think of falls flat. Your face feels hot and your heart flutters. Happy tears prick in your eyes as they meet his and your eyebrows draw together, “You really wrote all of those?”

He reaches across the countertop and closes your hand in his, nodding, “I did.”

“Oh, Javi-“ the lump in your throat chokes you up and you wipe away the tears spilling onto your cheeks, “I’m sorry for crying, I just-“ you sniffle and pout at him, “I love you so much. I don’t even know how to explain.”

“I love you too, cariño,” he rubs his thumb along the back of your hand affectionately. His smile hasn’t faltered, even as he tells you, “I think I’m going to get you to break your record today.”

The record he speaks of is the number of times you’ve cried in a day. For the past week, tears have become a common reaction to overwhelming emotions. The pregnancy hormones are mingling with your recent life changes, on top of your predisposition to being a crybaby already, and have made you a sappy, teary-eyed disaster.

Yesterday, he found you outside watching Pickles wriggle around on his back. Your eyes were puffy and bloodshot, face wet from bawling. When he asked what was wrong, your answer was, “Nothing, he’s just so cute I feel like my heart is going to explode.”

Your record is 10 cries in one day. You’ve been awake for about a half an hour and have already cried twice. It’s an impressive start.

You sniffle again and wipe the stagnant tears away, then start laughing because you can’t even continue to take him seriously. He’s just fucking beaming at you.

“What the fuck are you laughing about?” he starts laughing, too, then makes his way around the counter to you.

His rough hands cup your cheeks and you shake your head as you grin up at him, “I just think you’re really great.”

“Yeah?” his smile widens, and you nod in response. He leans in and presses his lips to yours. The kiss is a sweet peck, and you link your arms behind his neck to draw him in again, lingering longer this time. He inhales sharply as your tongue meets his, flipping your stomach upside down. His touch trails back to the hinges of your jaw, and he brushes the sleep-mussed hair from your face as the kiss deepens.

A soft moan rumbles in your throat and you get to your feet, arching your back into him. His hands find your waist and pull you closer, and you can feel his cock hardening against you under the loose constraints of his lazy Sunday morning sweatpants. But he pulls back, speaking to you between needy, wet kisses, “Wait- mmm, gotta- gotta show you something-“

You pout and look up at him as you bring one hand down to his tented pants and rub your thumb in a circle against the tip of his length, “Can it wait?”

He throws his head back as a hiss sucks the air from his lungs, then brings his eyes back to yours and shakes his head, “Can’t wait.”

“Are you sure?” you bat your eyelashes and continue to tease him, feeling a bead of pre-cum wet the fabric between his cock and the pad of your thumb.

A huge smile spreads across his face as he shudders, then pulls you back in for a smoldering kiss. He shakes his head as he gasps against your mouth, “So impatient, cariño.”

“You want me to stop, baby?” you ask innocently, then roll your tongue against his and wrap your hand around his sweatpants-bound cock. He grabs your wrist gently and laces your fingers with his, then brings the back of your hand to his lips, where he plants a kiss.

“What I want-“ he lowers himself onto one knee and pulls a little black velvet box out of his pocket. Every cell in your body comes to a standstill. He releases your hand so he can open it, revealing a gold band with a solitary sparkling white gemstone, “Is for you to marry me.”

A surge of adrenaline floods your bloodstream, making you lightheaded, and you breathe, “Wh- what?”

Your heart pounds impossibly fast in your chest as he looks up at you with those puppy dog eyes and asks, “Will you marry me?”

Tears brim your eyes for the third time this morning, cheek-burning smile breaking out on your face when you answer him, “Fuck yes I will.”

“Yeah?” he laughs and his smile is all dimples and perfect teeth when he plucks your hand up and slides the ring onto your finger.

You laugh through your crying and nod. He gets to his feet and cups your cheeks again, thumbs wiping the tears away, and he kisses you with heat, guiding you backwards until you butt up against the dining room table.

You cease kissing and throw your head back as laughter bubbles from your throat, “I can’t believe you just let me keep fondling you when you were going to ask that!”

A smile stretches across his face as he chuckles and shrugs, “You’re very persuasive.”

Your eyebrow quirks, “Oh yeah?”

“But I couldn’t wait any longer,” his face softens into a loving gaze and your heart aches as it melts in your chest. He takes your left hand and holds it up so he can look at the ring he just adorned on your finger, and questions, “Do you know what today is?”

Your stomach flips and you nod, “I met you five years ago today.”

“That’s right,” the corners of his mouth upturn and he plants a kiss on your hand, “I fell in love with you five years ago today.”

Your eyes sting as tears flood them again, the deep well of adoration and love you have for this man just too much to bear, and you pout, “This really isn’t fair, you’re trying to make me cry now.”

His eyes fold into crescents as he laughs heartily, then presses his forehead against yours, “I love you.”

“I love you, too, Javier,” you raise your hands to his face, thumbs scraping against the stubble he hasn’t shaved off yet this morning. He kisses you slowly, a series of lazy, wet lingering pecks.

His hands trail down to your waist, then over and under your ass, palming the cheeks over your thin cotton robe.

His nose nuzzles against yours and he hums in contentment, “Where were we?”

“I think,” you drop your gaze to his tented pants and smirk as you bring your grasp around him, circling the dark gray wet spot with your thumb, “We were going to the bedroom.”

He groans at the touch, then shakes his head as he guides you onto the table and nudges your knees apart, “I want you right here.”

You let out a soft coo when he tugs on the sash of your robe until it’s undone and falls open, exposing your naked body. He cradles your head like it’s made of something delicate and priceless, then drags his tongue across yours, sending molten heat dripping down your spine. His lips press against your jawline and he hesitates.

You whisper, “Kiss my neck.”

“Are you sure?” his eyebrows press together and he pulls back to meet your eyes, searching for reassurance.

Recently, you both learned that touch to your neck is a trigger now. He has been cognizant not to touch you in the area since an incident, in which he innocuously put his hand to your throat during sex, led to your hyperventilating on the bedroom floor.

Throughout your recovery after those two days in hell with Dan as your keeper, Javi has been fucking wonderful.

When you wake up in the night, screaming and crying, thinking you’re still in that closet, he holds you, rocking back and forth, singing quietly as he strokes your hair and lulls you back to sleep. You do the same for him sometimes.

In the first few weeks, when you would be alone for an extended period of time while Javi and Chucho were out working, panic attacks found you. You would call Javi from their home phone and he’d have you tell him all the things you could see that start with a certain letter, then he would talk you through grounding exercises.

If it weren’t for the support you receive from him and your therapist, you would be a catastrophe. As opposed to what you are now, which is simply a mess.

You nod and tilt your chin up, exposing the column of your throat, “I want it. I trust you.”

“Will you tell me if it’s too much?” his touch falls to your ribcage and ghosts down your sides to your hips, pricking your skin with goosebumps.

“I promise,” you breathe, and it turns into a gasp when his tongue massages a circle into your pulse. Your whole body shudders when he seals his lips against you and sucks gently. He migrates down your neck, leaving a trail of saliva shiny on your skin, sending your heart racing and your center vibrating with lust.

“Oh, Javi, that’s so good baby,” you whimper to the ceiling, raking your fingers through his hair. His lips emit a low hum against you, moving to your collarbone where his teeth catch your skin. Your back arches into him, moaning in approval of the sharp sting. He soothes the bite with the gentle caress of his tongue.

Rough hands skate along the tender skin of your thighs. The contact floods you with a neediness, and you grab at his shirt, whimpering, “I want you, Javi.”

He brings his lips to your ear and purrs, “I’m not done with you yet.”

“Come on,” you pout and reach for his swollen member, but he redirects your hand, lacing his fingers with yours.

“You need to learn patience, babygirl,” he chastises, then flicks your earlobe with his tongue before grinding it between his teeth. A spring of pleasure flows down to your cunt. You moan in response, pelvis thrusting forward with a mind of its own. He whispers, “Does that sweet little pussy need attention?”

The words slither around inside you, making you squirm, and you nod breathlessly, “Y-yes.”

His free hand splays across your chest, “Well, that’s too fucking bad . Gonna take my time with you,” he warns as he pushes you back gently until you recline onto your elbows, “Gonna make you beg for it.”

His hot gaze meets yours as his velvet tongue flattens on one of your pebbled nipples. His head swivels back and forth, dragging his tongue across the sensitive bud at a torturously slow tempo. Another shudder runs down the middle of you.

“Fuck- “ you gasp, arching into the contact, head falling backwards for a moment before you return to meet his love-blown eyes.

He responds by taking the nipple between his front teeth and tugging ever-so-gently. You moan from deep in your throat at the ripples of ecstasy that shoots across your body. Your cunt clenches around nothing. He moves to the other tit and works away, lapping and nibbling down on your nipple until you’re writhing beneath him, a constant stream of whimpers falling from your mouth.

“Fuck me, please, Javi, please- “

“I will, cariño,” he promises, planting a hot, wet kiss on your sternum, then your belly, never breaking eye contact, “When I’m ready.”

His tongue draws slow, lazy circles down the soft skin of your abdomen. The sensation rolls across your body and liquifies. He has you shivering and gasping at each touch.

You huff, "Now?"

He chuckles at your frustration, then instructs, “Scoot towards me.”

You follow his order, wiggling forward until your glistening pussy is right on the edge of the table. His hands run down the backs of your thighs, and he spreads you open wide, on display for him.

His eyebrows press into a crease and his lips form an "o" and he drops to his knees at the sight, purring, “I haven’t even touched this pretty pussy yet and, fuck, you’re already so wet.”

“So fucking wet,” you whine, rolling your hips towards him, wordlessly begging him to touch you.

His hot gaze locks on yours, looking up from between your legs as his tongue drags up the middle of your sex. Just a tease. A taste. You ache with want.

“Fucking amazing, baby,” he breathes, and his gaze falls from yours as he gives his full, undivided attention to your cunt. His soft tongue starts rolling across your clit and you ascend to a different plane of existence. Those same molasses circles he drew all over your body, leaving a shiny trail of saliva to where he is now. Over and over and over again as he groans against you.

The throbbing of pleasure keeps accumulating, condensing, slowly and steadily pushing you to new heights. Your face gets flushed and sweaty as your heart pounds in your chest. You roll your hips against his tongue, trying to get more.

He rises to his feet and brings you closer, pressing his forehead to yours, cradling the back of your head with one hand as he pulls his sweatpants down with the other. His pants drop to the ground in a gray heap, releasing his thick, gorgeous cock. His lips capture yours with force, and he growls between messy kisses laced with your arousal, “See- how fucking- good you taste, cariño?”

"I love the way I taste in your mouth," you pant.

His thumb slides hard against your overly sensitive clit. The stimulation feels like an electric cattle prod to your pussy, sending your body bucking and shuddering. The pain is layered, though, and a deep want lays beneath.

"Please, baby," you whine, grabbing at his shirt and tugging at him, "I need you, please-"

You bite your lip in anticipation as the head of his cock nudges your entrance. His nose nuzzles against yours and he continues in a gravelly tone that ricochets down your spine, “Is that what you want, baby?”

Your lips form a pout and you nod, then gently thrust your hips against his, dipping him inside just enough to pull a rumble from his throat. The electric sharpness of his touch on your clit is overtaken by a wanton need for him to fucking destroy you.

“Yes,” you whisper, tilting your pelvis against him, “Fuck me, Javi.”

He slowly drives his hips forward at your admission, filling you, sending waves of pleasure surging from your cunt to the tips of your toes. A moan is ripped from your throat and you throw your head back. He starts to fuck you, pumping into you deep and merciless.

His lips find your neck again. He lays hot, wet kisses on the delicate skin. You run your fingers through his hair and gasp, “That’s fucking perfect, Javi, holy shit,” then tug at the front of his shirt, "Take it off."

He ceases movement, fully sheathed, and sits up, pulling the shirt off over his head. The shirt takes his new glasses with them and they clatter to the floor and he winces. You giggle at the clumsiness. The gentle jostling of your body around his cock trickles ecstasy into your center, and you gasp at the sensation.

A sheen of sweat glistens atop his skin and he's panting as he meets your eyes with a grin. He looks happy. And in love. You probably do, too, because that's how you feel. The way your heart swells almost fucking hurts.

You beckon him closer, and he follows, leaning in slowly to press his plush lips against yours. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, arching your back into him, digging your fingernails into his skin. He throbs inside you, making you gasp. His moan vibrates into your lips, and he starts pumping into you, faster, more frantic now.

The way you're huddled against each other, whimpering between kisses, reveling in the divine pleasure each movement, each touch, brings you both. As it always does, it feels like you were made for each other.

As if he can read your mind, he rasps, "I fucking love you."

"I love you, Javi. So- fuck- so fucking much," you pant, pulling his lips against yours again.

He moans in approval and brings his hands to your waist, trailing up your back to your shoulders. He gets a grip on you here and leverages you down on his cock as he thrusts forward, setting a brutal pace. Your whole body buzzes and tingles, and the kisses grow more desperate.

His hips snap into yours, bringing you up higher and higher as your muscles tighten and your body starts to quiver.

“Javi-“ a choked sob escapes you as you start to ascend towards bliss, “I’m fucking cumming- oh, fuck-“

"Fuck yes, cum for me, babygirl," he orders through gritted teeth, "Wanna feel you squeeze me-"

You come completely undone, overtaken with ripples of ecstasy from your center. Your legs clamp down around his hips as your body spasms, and you can hear Javi moan in response to the sensation, pumping into you with reckless abandon a few more times before he spills inside you.

Slowly, your muscles slacken and soften, but before you can release his shoulders from your grasp and lay back on the table, he whispers breathlessly, "Hold on tight."

"Wh-"

His hands move to your ass and you squeal when he picks you up. He carries you into the bedroom as you giggle into his neck, then you both tumble sideways onto the mattress.

"Oh, that's so much better," he groans and sprawls out.

You curl up into the crook of his arm, "You're the one that wanted to- nay, insisted that we- fuck on the table."

"Mmm," he hums and closes his eyes with a small smile playing on his lips, "Just wanted to eat your pussy for breakfast at the kitchen table."

This makes you laugh, loud and untethered, "Worth it?"

He chuckles and nods, eyes still closed, "Worth it."

There's a flutter inside your belly and you gasp, "Oh my god, Javi."

"What?" his body tenses and his brow furrows.

It flutters again and your eyes well with tears, "She's moving. I can feel her moving."

A dimpled smile stretches across his face and he sits up, placing a hand on your small, but still noticeable, baby bump.

"I don't know if you'll be able to feel her kick on the outside," you tell him softly, then chuckle, "She's only a papaya right now."

"That's ok," he mumbles, smiling down at your belly, "Little Miss Rosemary Peña will be able to kick my ass before I know it."

"Probably," you tease.

He grins at you and shakes his head, then lays back down, wrapping an arm around your shoulders to cuddle you closer. A comfortable, warm silence embraces the two of you, and your fingers trail along his chest, his belly, his face. Writing love notes on his skin. He plays with your hair and watches you with love sparkling in his dark eyes.

You're home.

[ The End ]

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ben-learns-smth · 6 months

Text

first months as a (substitute/supportive) teacher - some thoughts (an incomplete list)

autumn holidays start on friday, so I thought I'd write down some thoughts on my experience of the last 2-ish months. I definitely have some growing and learning to do, it shows that I'm only half-trained for this

surprisingly I enjoy working with the smallest (grade 1/2) the most. it's partially that (unless they need me for substitute lessons) I spend the most time in that class and have gotten to know the pupils quite well. I know the routines of the class and I got into a great rhythm with the main teacher

the pupils are opening up a lot more about their interests and their lives, striking up conversations with me when they see me in the yard during break. I'm glad that I don't seem like a stranger to them anymore!

substitute lessons without tasks prepared by the teacher are more draining than I expected them to be. I also lack skills for coming up with substitute lessons for my subjects (let alone other subjects) bc I have very little experience of what they're already supposed to know/be able to do. especially in english lessons it's hard to find an appropriate level

being the only visibly and out trans nonbinary teacher is exhausting. I'm looking forward to the day when I've given substitute lessons in every class so I can stop explaining myself. I don't mind explaining queer topics to children and it's important to have those conversations but I'm the only one having them bc I have to, bc my genderqueer appearance raises questions and if it doesn't introducing myself as mr./mx. does.

related to that I'm excited to work with another colleague on a diversity concept for the school that focuses on queerness. our main objective will be to raise awareness in teachers and students

I still struggle to find an appropriate mix between being strict and being fun. with some classes it works well, with others I need to be stricter than I'd like to be, with others I need to ease off a bit.

schools are incredibly gendered spaces and while I obviously knew that it still caught me off guard (and tbh I think it's having an influence on my habits which I Don't Like At All). everything is very clearly divided into boys and girls. I'm generally good with gender neutral language, but compared to my first weeks I jump to use gendered terms much quicker now (example: saying "the girl in the red jumper" instead of a neutral version when I don't know their names yet), including when I talk about myself which feels weird

good quality sleep is so important. being a teacher is super demanding, especially in some more chaotic classes and showing up with only a few hours of sleep is Not It

being able to remember names really well really fast is a super power and I'm grateful I can do that every time I meet a new class for a substitute lesson. the kids are impressed (teachers too), but most importantly it creates a different atmosphere in the classroom. (it's also easier to remind them of class rules when they need it)

so far, the past months have confirmed what I've been thinking for a while: teaching is something I could do, but I'm less sure if it's what I want to do in the long run. so even though I wasn't able to start deaf studies this winter I'm sticking to my plan: try out deaf studies for a year (starting next autumn) and work on the side, then decide if a) I keep going like that to do the full deaf studies b.a. b) I pause deaf studies to do my teacher training and then evaluate again or c) I do my teacher training and pick up uni classes for fun after

#I think there would be more thoughts if I weren't so tired #if you read all of that and are still reading this thank you and I love you and please have some water #mine #bente rambles #teachblr #studyblr #uniblr #knife gang

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luluwquidprocrow · 5 months

Text

sometimes a family is three orphans, their adopted daughter, one not-so-sad writer, and two triplets

frank, beatrice the second, the baudelaires, lemony, ernest, implied ernest/lemony

gen

3,598 words

In the grand tradition of all parents, the extended baudelaire family find themselves trying to pull a fast one.

for @asouefanworkevent's woevember day 4, the hotel denouement! some rambling headcanon nonsense half-fic about post-canon family that i had great fun doing. my favorite thing in the whole world is post-canon babybea interacting with her absurd enormous family. i love them all so much.

okay. so bear with me here

so i think most parents/guardians are at one point or another faced with Pulling The Ultimate Fast One on their children. this is related to Your Beloved Pet Died But We’re Telling You We Sent Them To Live On The Farm, but this version, in particular, is infinitely easier and harder. this one is The Switch. The Replacement. The Double. when the intrepid parent or guardian, under the cover of night, goes to the pet store to purchase The Exact Same Animal because the first animal had an untimely death. i will admit, this is the easiest with like, a goldfish, or something else small where you can usually get one that looks very similar.

now, for babybea, it’s a pumpkin.

so babybea (who is twelve at the time this story takes place), at the very end of september, carves a pumpkin, and she goes in with a VISION. she spends a couple hours on this pumpkin, carving an owl. It’s not, yknow, a realistic owl, but she adds a lot of tiny details, lots of lines for the feathers, and she carves a little mouse on the side too, and even gets the side of a tree in there, and the pumpkin carving kit the baudelaires purchased that year came with these little stick lights, to put in the owl eyes after carving, so it has orange eyes!! this is!!!! The neatest thing babybea has ever seen, and she is so thrilled with the results and very proud of this pumpkin. (for the record – violet carves a few pumpkins into a starry night with a moon, klaus carves monstera leaves, and. let’s be real. sunny bites a series of turnips into jack-o-lanterns.) (and then she stabs a couple white pumpkins into bigger jack-o-lanterns, for variety. all of them get different expressions!

sunny, arranging her carved vegetation on the baudelaire porch in order of emotion: perfect.) (no, i don’t know what order of emotion means. But sunny does.)

Then they all pile into violet’s car – pumpkin included!! – and drive almost an hour out of the city to the bildungsroman bed and breakfast. (frank and ernest decided, at this point in their lives, if they were going to commit to anything, it may as well be The Bit.) (it has a local reputation as a place with solid wifi, stellar bread, and great mattresses. The owners are considered minorly eccentric, mostly for the portrait they have in the lobby, of, just one of them.

some impassioned yelp review: okay so the stay was great big recommend PLEASE try the bread but i cannot figure out the story behind the portrait in the lobby????? it's just one one of the owners?????? but I don't understand why bc they're twins and it's just ONE of them?????? and he's wearing this frog-patterned tie in the painting and when you see them like in person. neither of them wear the tie. what's the deal here

the locals are sure it's not an ego thing, bc the owners don't seem to be self-centered or anything like that. In fact, if asked about the painting, both of them will say, “oh, that's a painting of my brother.”

an additional yelp comment: I think. there's THREE of them a third yelp comment: don't be silly, they're definitely twins.)

frank and ernest have a very elaborate series of outdoor autumn decorations, with lots of pumpkins and mini gourds and hay bales over the front steps and corn stalks on all the porch posts, and babybea wants to not only show her uncles her hard work, but also put the pumpkin on their steps where everyone can see it!!

(her uncles also include lemony, of course – I think he did live with the baudelaires for some time after reuniting babybea with them, but has recently moved into ernest's side of the private apartment at the back of the hotel. this was mildly distressing to babybea, who likes everyone she loves under the same roof, but she can't deny that lemony is very happy. and so is ernest. and now she can see all her uncles in the same place whenever she wants!! so the baudelaires tend to spend weekends at the bed and breakfast, because they also miss lemony. and they get to know frank and ernest better, which is very important to them, as people who are important to babybea, and to lemony, and, to the baudelaire's past.) (not to like, detract from the sentiment here, but i do need everyone to know that i imagine ernest spends like, 80% of his working hours just making out with lemony.) (okay maybe not 80%. ernest does legitimately get work done, it’s his hotel too. ………but like, a lot of time.)

AND SO. the baudelaires arrive at the bed and breakfast, and frank and ernest and lemony are very proud of their niece's pumpkin. they take a lot of pictures. (re: my previous post-canon thoughts, frank has actually acquired a phone now, and does text. it is a flip phone.) babybea places it, very gently, on the third front step, and is so pleased. sunny steals two mini gourds while looking ernest dead in the eye. ernest approves.

But october turns out to be unseasonably warm, and babybea’s pumpkin, while lovingly carved but now lacking the support an uncarved pumpkin has to keep itself A Pumpkin, does not take kindly to the weather, and babybea actually becomes very distressed at the smallest signs of rot beginning to form in her pumpkin, when it is only the second week of october. She doesn’t TELL anybody, because there’s not really much you can do about a pumpkin doing what a pumpkin does in warm weather, but she’s very upset. (almost uncharacteristically so. usually she’d say, oh, well that’s how it happens, and rather pleasantly move on, but lately, she’s been kind of. quieter than usual.) And frank, who spends a great deal of time at the front desk, closest to the pumpkins, becomes Concerned.

now, in general, babybea’s family is like, pretty good at being realistic with her. She is of course an optimist, but still Aware of a great deal of the ways of the world, given her family, her upbringing, lemony’s books, her own adventures, everything. You can’t really shield this twelve year old from the ways of the world, even if that way of the world is, a rotting vegetable. All things have their time, and it cannot be stopped. Including seasons, and in-season foods.

However. She put SO MUCH WORK into that pumpkin, and as the week goes by and the pumpkin starts to shrink in on itself, turning all of babybea’s work black from the inside out, those charming little glowstick eyes CAVING IN, and the baudelaire’s weekly weekend visit grows closer and closer, frank has been imagining her devastated reaction when she sees the pumpkin, and decides, He Must Pull The Fast One. he will re-carve the pumpkin, exactly as babybea carved it, replace the pumpkin, and no one will be the wiser. They get a little more time with the pumpkin, presumably at least until halloween, and his niece gets to see her beautiful handiwork as much as she likes. Maybe, you know, there is a little magic in the world after all, to make a pumpkin look so nice.

(also, i think frank has. A shaky relationship with babybea, from his end. She loves him, as much as she loves everyone else in her family, and babybea herself would NEVER rank her uncles in order of how well she knows or admires them, but i, lulu vandelay, putting this together, have no qualms in saying she knows lemony the best, bc she has spent the most time with him, between trying to find him and both of them trying to find the baudelaires and all of them having lived together, and she’s rather deeply attached to him – ernest is very personable, and funny, so he’s easy to get along with – and she and frank both like tiny detail work, so they have things in common, but frank always seems very awkward around her. And he is. It’s bc he’s very nervous around her. Frank doesn’t think he’s good with kids. And he is usually acutely aware that in an ideal world, he isn’t the one she’d be spending her time with, that dewey would be so much better at all of this than he is. A better parent, a better brother, a better everything. Because dewey always was, to frank. but, dewey would probably want frank to do as much as he could for her, and would believe him absolutely capable of doing it, without a doubt. So he wants to be a proper uncle to her and THIS is his opportunity, he thinks. He so desperately wants to do something kind and considerate and important for her, like family is supposed to do for each other.)

the thing about pumpkins, though, is that, for some reason, mid-october, THEY ALL DISAPPEAR. I’m serious, you ever try and find a good pumpkin even like a little over halfway through october? It can be hard.

frank: i need your assistance. ernest: i’ve killed my quota for the month. frank: i – ernest, please. ernest: alright, my apologies. What do you need? frank: a pumpkin. lemony, from the kitchen: jarrahdale or red warty? frank: no, i mean a carving pumpkin.

The three of them take a good, long look at babybea’s pumpkin. Uncle Instincts Have Activated. They, very solemnly, bury the pumpkin in the back garden (lemony is the one who takes one for the team and removes the glowstick eyes from the depths of sad, sad pumpkin). And then embark on a mission. Please imagine the three of them packed into a mint green 1960 chevy corvette. Sunglasses optional. Who’s driving? That is up to you, my friend. Oh, google informs me it is cascade green. Imagine accordingly. (yes, no corvette has ever been made with more than two seats, but isn’t that just funnier? They really are packed in there. Lemony sits in the middle.)

The hunt for the right pumpkin is long. Grueling! Kinda chilly! This is october!! Much comparison is made between potential pumpkins and the pictures they took of babybea’s pumpkin. Snacks are purchased. (lemony, who has recently been introduced to instagram, posts a picture of his pretzel. [ernest is out of focus in the corner, eating a chocolate ice cream cone.] [#pretzel.]

sunbad: what is that lemonysnicket: I have purchased a pretzel sunbad: without me sunbad: you’re dead to me.)

(it was actually not sunny who introduced lemony to instagram, although she was his first follower. It was klaus.) (klaus uses instagram mainly to never post anything ever, just to follow his favorite authors, so he wanted lemony to have an instagram, especially since he just moved out.) (klaus……..my heart………..) (oh, frank bought chex mix. he likes those gross rye bread pieces.)

(don’t get me started on lemony with an instagram……….I think this is a hilarious but also heartwarming thought – this man who has avoided being photographed for years and years and years and YEARS (yes that much repetition was in fact necessary) is at a point in his life here he is not only comfortable of taking pictures of his life, but he is capable of doing it, he’s allowed!! It’s still probably mostly food and it’s so good!!!!!!!! and think of the amount of pictures he keeps just in his phone gallery, too!!! violet’s inventions and klaus’ library displays and sunny’s baking and babybea’s school projects and ernest’s record collection and frank’s breakfast spreads, and nature shots with lemony’s thumb in the corner, AAAAAAAAAAAA) (uh, anyway, these men are on a mission. back to the mission.)

Eventually, they do find a comparable replacement pumpkin! Does it fit in the car? Lemony, by virtue of sitting in the middle, holds the pumpkin.

They return to the bed and breakfast. Between the three of them, many different knives, and all of their photos, frank and ernest and lemony painstakingly recreate babybea’s pumpkin, down to the last, smallest detail. Including the little mouse and the side of the tree and the feathers and everything. (frank does do most of the work, because ernest and lemony very much see that this is important to him, but he doesn’t mind them helping, because, yknow. This is about family, and babybea is their family too.) (frank feels like he owes lemony a lot. for trying to set the record straight about their past. or as straight as one could try and set it, with what all of them did. for their niece. for making ernest happy.) (ernest deserves to be happy, with everything they put each other through. ernest thinks the same for frank, too.)

(ugggggg if you told the three of them when they were so much younger that one day they’d stay up late recreating their niece’s perfect pumpkin masterpiece so she’s not upset about the passage of time………..)

(who’s in charge of the bed and breakfast while all of this is happening??

ernest: mallory, you’re in charge. mallory, a twenty-two year old with a major in hotel management who runs the front desk when ernest and frank can’t: sounds like a plan.

mallory has a deep respect for the denouements. meanwhile –

mallory: so you’re lemony snicket. lemony: i am, yes. mallory: you don’t look like your photo. lemony: that’s my legal representative. he has a stamp.)

meanwhile meanwhile – it is not necessarily about the pumpkin.

For babybea’s part, she already firmly believes that there is some sort of magic in the world. Even at twelve. Especially at twelve!! Look, she knows it wasn’t magic that reunited her with her family, that it was her and lemony’s hard work, but she wound up with SO much more family than she expected, when she first contacted lemony. And like, that is what there’s magic in. this whole group of people who care about her and love her and want to spend time with her. Babybea thinks she has the best family in the whole entire world. (AND SHE’S RIGHT!!!!!!!!!!!!)

But that is also babybea’s problem right now. She loves her family so much, and she loves having them, and it’s been a couple months but she is still not entirely comfortable with people she loves being so far away from her. Not now! Not when they’re all supposed to be in the same space, like they’re supposed to be!! And some kids at school have teased her, not so much about her puzzle-piece family but that she talks about her uncles so much. She’s just proud of her family and she loves them!! But middle schoolers are like, rude as fuck sometimes, okay. And they don’t even think they’re saying anything wrong, just offhand comments about how much she talks about them. They don’t even know anything about her parents, not really, but babybea starts to feel like, it’s the unspoken throughline in what they’re saying, why doesn’t she ever talk about them? Why only her uncles, her guardians? They’re her family, but –

she feels almost guilty, that she goes through periods where she doesn’t even think of her parents at all, and periods where she can’t stop thinking about what they would look like and what they would be like, and that makes her feel like she doesn’t value the family she DOES have. So it’s not necessarily about the pumpkin starting to rot, what’s making her upset. It’s that, the pumpkin is another thing in a line of things babybea is Thinking about, things that aren’t Going the way she thought they were supposed to go. Her uncle moving out, missing somebody who was supposed to be there, her pumpkin not staying like it’s supposed to, she’s SUPPOSED to love her family but is she loving them right? Is she loving the right people right? Can you miss people you didn’t even know? And babybea has it very set in her head, the things she knows and is supposed to do – this is something she hasn’t quite worked on, but she’ll get to it eventually, she is still twelve – and they keep not happening like that. And now. Something else she worked really, really, really hard on, that isn’t going right either.

So she spends the week a little gloomy about her pumpkin, and worrying the whole ride friday afternoon after school to the bildungsroman bed and breakfast. Violet and klaus and sunny are very aware of babybea’s mood, and try to cheer her up by asking her about what she’ll be for halloween, but babybea’s heart is not super into this conversation. (she has ideas about a big group costume where they’re all different local birds, but now she’s not even sure about that.)

And then! She sees her pumpkin!! Glowy eyes and all!!!!! And, mysteriously, those little spots of rot she’d noticed the week before are gone, and, in fact, it looks a little sharper than it had before? And she didn’t think she’d cut the lid quite like that, but! That’s her pumpkin, exactly where it’s supposed to be!!! And it makes her feel just a little better. That’s good. That’s right. But she still can’t, entirely shake off all her previous feelings, about family. But. right now. Her pumpkin still looks very special.

Later, babybea can’t sleep. So she sneaks out of bed and goes down to the lobby, and sits down on the floor in front of the front desk, and looks at the big painting on the wall, that ernest did of her father.

This, of course, is where frank finds her. (because frank has never been very good at sleeping consistently, even when there’s nothing to worry about now, and he likes to walk through the hotel to make sure it’s secure.)

(ernest would say something very clever, like, aha, with a raised eyebrow, but all frank says is – )

frank: hello, beatrice. beatrice: oh! beatrice: hello, uncle frank. frank: may i sit down? beatrice: yes, please.

They spend a little while looking at the portrait.

beatrice: um – beatrice: does it –

What she wants to ask is, does it look very much like my father, which she then realizes is such a STUPID question if her father was a TRIPLET and she has a mirror image of him right in front of her, who acts like she thinks a father is supposed to act, so, but, it’s not like that doesn’t mean dewey didn’t look like dewey. Just because dewey looked like frank doesn’t mean he only looked like frank. And beatrice forgets, sometimes, that he would’ve just looked just like her uncles. But still!

beatrice: i mean – the painting, is it –

But she thinks it’s such a terrible thing to ask!! But frank knows EXACTLY what she means.

(some time ago, when the hotel had just opened and ernest had just painted the portrait of dewey –

ernest: i wanted it to look like him. And, it’s not like i, don’t know what he looks like. Looked like. I mean – that could just be me or you up there, couldn’t it. It doesn’t look like it’s him. frank: no, it does. frank, knowing exactly what he means and feeling like, he needs to make ernest Not look so abjectly miserable: you don’t look nearly as happy. ernest, in tears, very amused and touched and still terribly upset: wow!

The point being, god of course it looks like dewey. It couldn’t be anybody but dewey, even if dewey looks like other people. Dewey looks like himself, he looks like his family, he looks like beatrice, around the eyes. And family means lots of things. It means your guardians raising you, and your uncles raising you, and your father’s portrait on the wall and never knowing him at all, and loving so many people and being loved back by them, whether or not it’s Supposed to be a specific way, and sometimes it means missing somebody, sometimes it means missing different people, sometimes it means being sad for something you’re not sure if you should or could miss, sometimes it means not missing anyone at all, sometimes it means your uncle going to live with his definitely boyfriend even if they won’t say the words out loud who’s also your uncle just on the other side of your family and that doesn’t mean anyone’s going anywhere. Sometimes it means your pumpkin rotting, because things change. uh, does this make sense.) (admittedly, i put a lot of things in this.)

frank: yes, it looks very much like him. frank: i think about him a lot. beatrice: ......would he like my pumpkin? frank, without hesitation: absolutely. beatrice: do you like it? frank: i do.

of course babybea already knew that, but it's nice to hear. it's just. nice. it's not, like, everything? just like before. but beatrice is loved by a lot of people, and she loves them, too, and. she feels loved, right here, like she's supposed to, and that's what's Supposed to happen.

beatrice hugs him, and it's not the first time she's hugged frank, but it means more? frank hugs her back.

beatrice: thanks for fixing my pumpkin. frank: i’m sure i don’t know what you mean, beatrice.

beatrice hugs him again, and then goes back upstairs. frank looks a little longer at the portrait, and then goes to bed himself, and doesn't get back up until his alarm goes off.

#asoue #a series of unfortunate events #woevember #tadaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa...................#you know what. for as much as i Did In Fact jam in here. bc my thoughts get away from me. i DO think i wrapped it up rather nicely.#the capitals are inconsistent bc i wrote this in googledocs and it just wants to capitalize EVERYTHING. AGAINST MY WILL #i am as stunned as you are that this is frank-centric. but sometimes the words happen.#if you were wondering. yes my parents did in fact Pull This Fast One on me. with. yes. fish.

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fruitybashir · 23 hours

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Did Bojan talk to Martin about the whole... everything? Like I am assuming that he did because it seems like they have quite regular contact when Martin isn't busy (I interpreted it as him having only pretty recently been so busy that he doesn't pick up but maybe he hasn't really talked to Bojan on the phone since he moved so since the beginning of the fic?) so does Martin know anything? Does he know about Bojan's situation with his parents? What does he know about Kris? Did Bojan have anyone to talk about any of this like Kris had Jan?

Basically my question is just what about Martin?

OOF. coming in with the hard questions haha actually not too hard, just long so. under the cut

im gonna do my best to answer all the questions but im going in chronological order like how things happen in the holidate universe:

so from the start, martin has pretty much just left, started the fall semester in the uk or smthn idk i never went to university

and since then hes also been pretty busy. he does try his best to keep in contact with bojan, but it just often doesnt work out bc hes very ambitious with his studies and also meets new people hes being social with, so unfortunately keeping in contact with bojan and the rest falls behind a little bit at first, and then some more

of course thats not the end of their friendship or anything, but for bojan, whos been living with martin up until then and had him around at all times, thats already a pretty hard blow and that loss does contribute to his overall state of mind and struggles in this fic

martin was actually supposed to make an appearance around ch14/15 but i couldnt make the scene fit in like i wanted to so. that didnt happen :/

its not like they never talk though, just not as often as they would like. bojan does tell martin about kris, or at least he tells martin about sleeping with kris and spending lots of time with him and sleeping over, though he frames it as just them having fun etc, similar to how kris pretended in front of jan

theres also a lot of. martin having to give bojan a raincheck or cutting calls short and bojan just saying "oh yeah haha its fine, dont worry about it!" when it actually really stings and makes him feel more alone.

when bojan came out to his parents martin definitely dropped everything he had going on to be on a ten hour video call with bojan to make sure he was okay and also involved jan and jure in it, had them look after bojan etc, basically did everything he could while being half a continent away

bojan does ofc also talk to the others about things, after martin they are his best friends after all, but he never really talked to anyone about his feelings for kris bc he convinced himself that it wasnt a big deal and if he had talked to anyone about it, saying it out loud would have made it too real. as long as its just a fantasy in his head, hes safe from consequences. does that make sense? fears like that often dont, thats the thing.

and anxiety is rarely rational either. so in the week it all went down (him leaving, being distant, going home with the girl) he was just in a constant downward spiral. he knew martin would be able to help so in his mind martin was the only one that could help + he knew from the start that he was hurting kris. jan, nace and jure were also kris' friends so he was probably also scared to bring it up with them bc he was afraid they would "take kris' side" or smthn, idk, again: fear and anxiety clouds your rational thinking like you wouldnt believe

he also has his whole thing of not wanting to be a burden to anyone so when he tries calling martin over and over again and martin maybe texted back "sorry, i was busy, whats up?" bojan didnt want to make martin feel guilty for not picking up and probably just said "dont worry, nothing important" or smthn. and then when jan blew up on him and he broke down at practice and told the others what was going on etc etc etc it was most certainly jan who texted martin and told him like "its really fucking bad, can you please call him? even just a few minutes, but he needs you"

uhhhhhh i forgot where i was going with all of this. i hope its still at least somewhat coherent hskfnd if i forgot smthn just lmk

#inbox #apfel07 #lore #<- ok im making a lore tag

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lloydfrontera · 5 months

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I got many feelings

but also half way tempted at some point to make a fan comic adaption

bc if you, who loves tged is having iffy thoughts on it. Then its concerning

But I also understand where you are going with the adapter bc it feels like their too afraid to be earnest like the text or just doesn't understand where the line is before you fuck up the story

oh my god sameeee, i know it would be a lot of work but like. i want to do it so bad xD

and tbf, i think it's precisely because i love tged that i am so critical of the webcomic. i've read this novel several times, i know the characters, i know the arcs, the development, i have a strong attachment to it! so when i feel like the webcomic isn't portraying it correctly or making fun of it i get defensive.

if i didn't love tged i probably wouldn't care that much. i'd just quietly drop it and get on with my life.

as i guess many of the readers will probably do as the webcomic continues.

it's a bit of a vicious circle.

i think there's two major kind of readers of the webcomic: those who like the characters and plot and would like a deeper read on them and those who like the humor and 'funny' faces and are happy the way the webcomic is going.

the first kind of readers are more likely to get bored with the repetitive jokes and constant mockery of the protagonist, especially when it seems like the webcomic is bent on undercutting every posssible heartfelt moment with the same joke over and over again, because they won't see the point of keep reading it if they feel like it just won't deliver the depth and character and plot development they're looking for. they'll just quietly drop it and go on about their lives looking for a more earnest and heartfelt webtoon.

and then the second kind, the ones that do like how the webcomic is adapting the novel, are ecstatic because they like the humor, they like the jokes, they think it's the height of comedy. and so they'll keep reading. they'll keep leaving comments telling the artists adapting tged that they're doing such a good work, that they're having so much fun, that they really should keep going the same way as they are.

and so they will. and more and more readers of the first kind will keep dropping the webcomic until only the ones that do think the webcomic is a good adaptation remain. and then it'll be an echo chamber of 'this is sooo funny, the faces are hilarious and all the jokes are hysterical' feedback and the artists see no reason to change their approach to the text because. clearly that's what the audience likes. isn't it.

and of course there's the third minority: me <3. who likes to suffer and just has to see how they will destroy the next arc and my favorite moments <333

it feels like their too afraid to be earnest like the text or just doesn't understand where the line is before you fuck up the story

personally i think they're too concerned trying to make every chapter instantly 'entertaining' instead of worrying about setting up a satisfying narrative. they want the immediate reward and none of the emotional and narrative set up.

coming back to the analogy of setting up dominoes. they're the kind of person who likes to set up 10 dominoes and then push them down over and over again every couple minutes, instead of spending a couple hours setting up a beautiful design to push down at the perfect moment. which isn't a bad thing but it's still a bit disappointing :/

#hey i got an ask #theroofcat #tged #the greatest estate developer

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cloudycaffeinatedcryptid · 2 months

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What do you think the comfort activities would be for each counselor? Like if they had a really long or bad day and they just want to decompress at the end of it?

ooooh thank you so much for this <3 this is the perfect break between writing binges & i love this question!! prepare for a lot of headcanons, i had to think about this a lot

Abi - i think she draws, that's pretty canon, it calms her down. i also think she paints when she really wants to zone out & not think (she loves watercolor but she's been experimenting with acrylics lately) & she does a lot of landscape paintings. the only color that usually sits untouched is red. the smears on her fingers bring up bad memories. she also burns relaxing incense & listens to soothing instrumental tracks

Ryan - he listens to his podcast usually, but i think his sister plays piano (she's very good) & she often gets him to sit down so she can teach him scales or beginner songs & it relaxes him. otherwise i can see him settling down in the comfortable chair wedged in the corner of his room with his drawing tablet, lights dim, & just working on some art. occasionally his sis barges in to play her DS on his bed while he does & then they both just exist together in silence

Nick - they give us so little about Nick that i honestly could just say anything about this freak. but i think he gets stoned & watches terrible movies when he needs to decompress. he's seen Llamageddon eight times. i can also see him going for short walks or half-listening to nature documentaries while he cooks

Emma - when she needs to wind down, she love taking hot baths. she has a ton of bath bombs & oils & products, so she lights some scented candles, turns off the lights, puts on some relaxing tunes, & soaks. i also think she learned to sew so she could mend her own expensive clothes, but then she ended up enjoying it, so she sew/embroiders sometimes on the side to relax. she prolly does yoga too

Kaitlyn - she goes for runs, for sure. it's good exercise, builds her stamina, & helps keep her mind off... everything. she likes the early morning runs when it's just chilly enough to barely see her breath & she has a killer playlist for them. her guilty pleasure is rupaul's drag race & so every season you can catch her, fresh out of the shower, in her sweats, mug of coffee in hands & a bottle of wine on the table, pore strips on, enraptured & getting way too intense about the show

Dylan - this mans pops three edibles & opens the NASA website so he can watch space in real time. if he can manage it, he'll lay for hours on the floor with his cat purring on his chest. sometimes he'll watch cartoons or sci-fi shows to zone out, or he'll put on his headphones & try to forget the world. no i'm not projecting

Jacob - he strikes me as the kind of person who considers working out to be relaxing, so he spends a lot of his free time doing that. otherwise i see him being into cheesy rom-coms (altho he'd never admit it) so some nights he makes himself some popcorn, mixes in m&ms, & settles in to watch The Notebook for the tenth time

Laura - she's def one of those ppl who can't go too long without doing something so her "relaxing" time is usually cleaning, animal care - possibly a gamer. she likes staying busy. whenever she actually settles down to relax, it's usually with & bc of Max. they play checkers together & watch movies they can make fun of. they binge criminal minds together. she's not great in the kitchen but she helps Max bake sometimes & she's an expert on the grill. i think she would enjoy taking up gardening if they get their own property

Max - he loves his relaxation time. he bakes, he naps, he definitely would enjoy gardening, but he always relaxes easier when he's with Laura <3 he prolly plays idle video games like animal crossing, he was for sure heavy into pokemon, & he loves cartoons. the most relaxing time of the day for him is 3pm, when he can eat cereal on the couch & watch scooby-doo, & he doesn't need a blanket bc the blinds are open & the sun keeps him warm :)

#projection? don't know her #don't worry about my brain #i would love to hear other ppl's opinions on this #i had to soul vibe for this one #im Not Normal about these characters #pry them from my cold dead talons #the quarry #ask moth

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karmicpunishment · 9 months

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KARMIE BELOVED hear me out. ada minecraft server.

kyouka keeps taming animals (no one can bear to hit her. what if the dogs get mad at them. what if they have thorns armor. WHAT IF IT MAKES HER SAD.) and she is simply accompanied by a pack at all times

atsushi is still learning how to play and he builds these ugly-ass houses like we all did starting out but hes so proud of them (as he should be)

i was torn on dazai but i think it would be funny is hes so so bad at minecraft. he keeps walking off of inclines and dying bc he doesn't pay attention to his healthbar. he insists hes just playing on a higher level (hes actually rlly good at pvp and uses that for shenanigans but general play? he sucks so bad)

alternatively i think kunikida should be really good when he does play bc it would annoy dazai so much. i think he builds really nice houses and insists the game is just math but doesn't even play that often bc too much time gaming is unhealthy (it infuriates dazai that hes so competent despite barely playing)

i think ranpo plays exclusively for the chaos. he and dazai are a terrible combination (for everyone else) but also extremely funny. also i think he breaks minecraft in insane ways for fun when he gets bored and its a tossup whether the rest of the server suffers or benefits bc of it

tbh i think yosano should go feral in minecraft? like i think she should steal good gear from whoever has it and go kill to her heart's content. u cannot tell me she doesnt have insane amounts of repressed fury i think she should relieve that stress by going on adventures where she kills whatever she finds. yosano should 1v1 the warden powered by sheer spite i think

i think fukuzawa would not really understand minecraft?? but he gets on the server sometimes to spend time with the other members and has a minecraft cat that follows him everywhere (it took so many fish to tame. he worked so fucking hard for that ok)

OH MY GOD KENJI. I FORGOT HIM. THE BOY. i think hes so excited to play with everyone :) he can't build but he collects animals like kyouka and also provides the majority of the food for the other server members. hes like me fr just out here making massive farms of food and also collecting soo many farm animals in pens (he insists on not overcrowding the animal pens)

anyway i will end this by saying rip tanizaki hes the only remotely normal player on this fucking minecraft server

HI PAT!!! and yes yes yes to all of this

kyouka as an animal hoarder tamer is so cute and so real. kenji definitely does this too and yeah he'd totally make Massive farms. ranpo tells him he could make automated ones with redstone and he finds that amazing but also much rathers to just do it himself. they have huge buildings dedicated just to the animals they've collected and basically every name tag someone finds goes towards naming them all.

atsushi would 100% start out building the ugliest houses fr...all the dirt 4x4s and then the wooden box houses. he gradually gets better until hes a pretty decent builder. i feel like he'd also be the type to just get utterly lost in the game lol both in terms of directions (but he always writes down his coordinates) but also like he'd look up at the clock and realize he's spent 3 hours mining.

dazai being an utter disaster at the game is so funny to me. he's not allowed to go mining by himself because he will just die in a random cave and lose everything (also not allowed in the nether for similar reasons). he would be the type to purposefully hit a zombie pigmen just to make his fellow players lives worse lmao. the first thing someone gives him on the server is feather falling boots because he keeps walking off tall places (half the time on purpose the other half are complete accidents) it just makes him walk off things more but at least he's dying less because of it. he's an expert at setting up in game pranks though (usually on kunikida, the poor guy)

kunikida being great at minecraft is so near and dear to me now. i feel like he played the game a lot as a kid because lets be honest, its perfect for him but then kinda fell out of playing it as he got older. and then one of his students from when he was an assistant teacher reminded him of it and he got back into it. he definitely plays for like a couple a week to destress on his own private world where he has the most insane builds. he also is totally a resource gatherer/hoarder too, he's always giving the others supplies (though giving is a strong word, half of them just steal from him).

ranpo is also a disaster in minecraft i feel. he could build insane things but he doesn't have the patience for it honestly. same with redstone stuff, like he gets it but he doesn't usually take the time to do it. he's absolutely awful at pvp though and he gets lost ALL the time. he is the perfect person to go to when trying to find a special area or material, he always knows what someone needs. i also feel like he'd like potion making, idk why. he also really enjoys insane mod packs (though he makes other people install them for him)

yosano would totally be an insane pvp'er. she enjoys the other aspects of the game too but she gets the most enjoyment spending her nights beating mobs. she's not much of a builder but she does like to spend some time decorating the inside of ppl's bases. she's the kind of player to set off withers to defeat on her own for fun. she also plays bedwars lol and is a beast at it.

fukuzawa definitely has just a nice little house with like 5 cats in it. he logged on the first day of the server and then maybe like 3 times since but its okay. and absolutely no one is allowed to touch his house, under threat of ranpo's chaos lol. also no one really wants to destroy the presidents house, it just feels wrong.

tanizaki is just a fairly well-rounded player, like his builds aren't amazing but they're nice, he's decent at combat, he likes resource gathering etc. i feel like he and naomi have like several worlds of their own that they've kept up with for years at this point, with just like sprawling cities worth of builds. his favorite things to do in the game are probably just going on long journeys to find new biomes and fishing lol

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grippingbeskar · 2 years

Text

salt, ice and fire | frank castle

chapter twelve - ray of sunshine

[series masterlist] [previous chapter]

frank castle x fem!reader

word count: 5.1k

warnings: canon typical violence, mentions of death, injuries, stitches, description of wounds/cuts, mention of scars, violence, gore, death, blood it gets kinda gross but ITS PUNISHER TIME AGAIN BITCHES. also kinda sad frank and reader but look we’re gonna be okay.

a/n: guysssss what do we think. tell me. i feel like i struggle to write good action scenes bc the ones in the punisher are so cinematic and bad ass but i’m trying. also don’t ask me if any of the sewerage system information is right i have no idea and i wasn’t about to google it bc gross i’m sorry lets pretend. hope u enjoy beauties.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Hold it tighter”

“Like this?” Your hands grip at his direction, and you hear his hum of approval.

“Now go slow.”

“That’s no fun.” You smirk up at him, but Frank is too lost in concentration to fight back.

“Slow, or this’ll finish before it’s even started.” His hand wrapped around yours and adjusted your grip. “There you go. Just like that.”

“This feels wrong.” Eyebrows furrowed, you see him shake his head in your peripheral vision.

“You don’t think I would know if it was wrong?”

“Fine.”

“Alright. Now just...” He loses his words as you move through the motion he showed you again a few times, a low noise the only sound your doing something right.

“I think I got it.”

“Now hard and fast. Don’t think, just do it.”

Letting go of the hilt of the knife, it slams into the opposite wall. Finally, after three days, you get it. Bullseye.

“I hit it! Holy fuck!” You shout, running up to wall. You almost want to take a photo of it.

“Damn right you did.” Frank claps once, and nods, a smile crossing his face. He looks proud of you. You turn around to face the wall again, losing your nerve.

It had been four whole days since you had first arrived at this run down garage-turned-vigilante-base, and four whole days since Frank had kissed you. Or touched you, really, of any kind, bare the minimum of whatever training he dragged you through that day.

It was a good distraction, his never ending supply of drills and routines to run you through. Not all were physical, like the first day he gave you scenarios to break down. He kept telling you how half the shit he did was just as much a mental game as it was physical. If you could put your opponent off, even for a second, you could control everything they did. Subtle changes in pace, in tone, could be the difference between life and death.

That stuff you weren’t so good at, but with your enhanced strength and speed, the physical training was becoming a breeze. Knives had nearly become second nature, spending hours staring down that stupid wall with a target that seemed to mock you, finally figuring out the subtle moves and changes you had to make to slam the blade true. Sure, it was distracting because all you could think of was what happened last time Frank showed you how to throw, but eventually you managed to work it out, thanks to him.

Guns, you were almost comfortable with. Frank was clearly superior, but that was about the only thing you couldn’t match him in now. You could throw a punch, but he showed you how to make them count, how to place them, and especially when not to punch, when to hold, move, duck and cover. Waiting was not your thing, but every day made you better at it.

“Do it again.” Frank stands to the side, watching as you gather up the three remaining knives. “It’s muscle memory, don’t think about it.”

You turn around, not facing the wall right away, and when you spin back you throw all three in succession, as fast as you can.

All land with a successful thud - right where you wanted them to. One is dead centre, the other two slightly above and below, creating the perfect straight line.

“Atta girl.” Frank says from the wall, and everything gets about ten degrees hotter. “We go tonight.”

“Yeah?” He nods, walking over to the array of guns he’s had laid out for a few hours, cleaning while correcting your form.

“They won’t expect it. You feeling okay?” He looks down towards where you were shot, and you pull up your shirt to show him.

“Feels fine.”

“Need to take the stitches out.” He says and starts to walk towards the bathroom. You had thought about that for a while, and you should probably learn to take care of your own injuries, but any excuse to have Frank that close again is one you wouldn’t fuck up.

You go inside the small excuse for a bathroom, and he kneels down in front of you. His fingers dance lightly around the wound, assessing, before he gets the little scissors out and starts to cut the wires.

“Were you a medic?” He shakes his head, and his hand fans out on your stomach, holding you still.

“Basic training runs you through first aid. That and getting my ass shot made me a fast learner.” You try not to laugh, and he looks up at you, catching your smile. “Curtis was.”

“Bomb guy, right?”

“Yeah.”

“I figured you served together. He - he seemed nice.” Another cut of wire, this one made you wince a little, the wound still healing despite the time.

“Best guy I know.” You swallow, trying to get your nerve back.

“You can tell me to piss off, when I ask this.”

“Go on.” His fingers dig into you a little more as you unconsciously squirm away from the blades.

“I was reading another article. One on The Punisher, on the computer.”

“You’re googling me?”

“You told me to research.”

“I meant the maps, not me.”

“Anyways-“ Another wince, and his thumb runs soothing lines along your skin. “They said you - there was someone that you served with, that knew about what was going to happen to your family. It wasn’t him, was it?”

“No.” His movements all but stop as he considers going on. There’s something about him fixing you up that seems to force the two of you to talk about things like this, a kind of intimate trust that encourages you to share a little more of yourself, which is why you got the courage to ask.

You had spent a lot of time on the computer the past few days, and since he had kissed you like a man starved, you had to admit your interest was a little bit piqued. There was no public information about what really happened to his family, and you had no hope figuring out how to use any of the systems on the monitors to find it yourself.

“Good. That’s good. He’s nice.” You were pretty sure it wasn’t Curtis, but the only other two names you could find that served with Frank was a photo of him, covered in mud with two guys next to him, their names labelled underneath.

Gunner Henderson.

Frank Castle.

Billy Russo.

“Is it gonna scar bad, or do I still have a chance to wear low rise jeans at some point?” You give him an out as he stands up, removing the last of the stitches.

“I think you’ll be just fine.” You go to leave the bathroom and give him some space, afraid your question went to close to prying, but his hand falls on your hip, holding you there. “What other names do you know?”

“What?”

“You said you did your research. Don’t get shy now, who else you got?” He was doing that thing again - the thing where you were almost positive he could read minds he was that good.

“A guy named Gunner. And Billy Russo.”

“Billy Russo was my best friend. Family. Spent more time with him than my god damn wife and kids. He was my brother.” You swallow, and wonder what happened to him. Surely it must have been Gunner, then. No one would sell out their brother.

“You don’t have to tell me.” You say softly, and he nods, like he knows, but he wants to tell you anyways.

“He hung around my kids. Knew ‘em, my wife fuckin’ loved him, too. She always had this massive heart, let him crash at our place, fed him. He’d help me out round the house. It was natural, you know? Having him around. On the last tour, he told me he was getting out, that he requested a transfer. Shit got dark over there, we weren’t just soldiers anymore.”

“Was this Kandahar?” You say from memory and he nods. Then he looks down at where his hand was resting on your hip.

“They called us the American Taliban, over there. We’d go in, dead of night, and make people disappear. The guys who ran us - Schoonover, Rawlins; they were selling drugs to fund the operation. Stuffing them into KIA’s and sending them home. Gunner, the other guy, he found out, tried to blow the whistle on the whole thing. He took a video of an interrogation we did, tortured this guy who was meant to be an American ally. He was innocent, we all knew it, but Gunner was the only one with the balls to do something about it. He sent it to Madani.”

“Jesus.”

“After that, everything went to shit. They thought I was gonna sell ‘em out for - money, to do the right thing or whatever I should of done. They wanted a distraction, bodies to bury their shit under. Billy knew.” His voice cracks at the end, and he still not looking up. “He knew what they were going to do, and he did nothin’. Let ‘em die like fuckin’ animals.”

Your hands go to his cheeks and pull him up to you. You don’t know if you should kiss him or hold him, so you just freeze there, his eyes burning a whole straight through you.

“Frank.”

“They were the best. My kids - Lisa was so smart. She was reading Moby Dick when she was ten.” He swallows hard again, and you feel his jaw clench under your hand. “And Frankie he - shit, he was just like me.”

“A ray of sunshine?” He laughs, and the smile that touches each of your thumbs on his face is one you would kill to see again.

“Maria was.” You could hear your own heart breaking at the way his voice got way too soft. “She was the best with ‘em. All that shit was my fault, and I-“

“Hey. Don’t do that.”

“How do you know what I was gonna say?” A little bit of life flows back into his face, and it makes your hands warm against his skin.

“Cause it’s exactly what I do.” He blows out a puff of air, and his hands fall from your hip. You let him go, letting him set this pace. “You wouldn’t have known.”

“It’s been years, and I still think of ‘em every day. What I could of done.”

“Me too.” He still hasn’t stepped away. “I should of moved faster. Told my Dad to take those stupid fucking letters he got seriously. Told my mum not to lock the door so I could of got out quicker - helped them, maybe, I don’t know.”

“You were a kid.”

“Doesn’t matter, though. I could of been 30 years old and it would still have happened. And I miss them every day. Still will, even when I’m as old as you are.” You shove him a little on the shoulder and he shakes his head, smiling small. “I shouldn’t have asked. I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologising.” You shrug, looking away. You feel his hand back on your hip, and the other one hooks a finger under your chin. Your breath hitches. Even though you’ve been sleeping in the same bed for the past four nights, it’s the closest you’ve been since he kissed you.“You uh- You should get your shit together. We might not come back here.”

With that, he takes a few steps back then walks out of the bathroom.

He’s right. Always is. You were going in tonight, and if your brother was being held in the same place as the doctors family, this would be it. Agent Madani would come in, make sure he’s safe, and you would probably never see Frank again.

Just a few weeks ago, you would of been happy to never see him again. That first time you met him, you wanted to rip his head off, literally. It’s what you were sent to do, what you were programmed to do. Now, though, you have had the chance to think for yourself - decide what you want. You thought when you got out all you would want to do is grab your brother and run as far away from this place as possible, but now the one thing you want to do is stay, and it’s the only thing you can’t do.

Agent Madani might be a good person, but she isn’t a miracle worker. You were still a murderer - wanted by the FBI for hundreds of crimes. There’s only so much one woman would do, and you have sacrificed too much to lose your brother for something as selfish as what you want. Who you want.

Sucking in a deep breath, you follow Franks instructions, packing what little you own into a bag and coming out into the main room.

“You know, I actually kind of liked it in here.” You say, coming up behind Frank as he sorts through what guns he’s packing into a black material bag.

“Yeah? Those alarms sound like home to you?” Neither of you had been able to turn them off, so like clockwork every six hours one of you had to shut them off. Sure, it was annoying as hell, especially at 2 in the morning, but it meant you got to wake up and still feel Frank sleeping behind you. He always woke up before you, so it was the only time you could enjoy it. “Take this.”

“Ah. Old friend.” The pistol Frank gave you in that hotel room now appears in your hand. You had lost track of it the night you got shot. He must of kept it when he stripped you down after saving your life. “Did this not get full of water?”

“Cleaned it up. It’ll be like a lucky charm.”

“Oh yeah, because getting shot in the kidney is a sign of good fortune.” He blows out a laugh, and swings the bag over his shoulder.

“You ready for this?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be.” You go to head towards the door, but he calls your name, snapping your attention back to him.

“If things go wrong in there, and you get your brother-“

“Hey, I thought you said you didn’t to ‘ifs, ands or butts’.”

“I don’t. But there’s a chance things can go wrong. If they do, you need to get him out, and get as far away as possible. No matter what happens.” His face was blank of any emotion, the hardened mask of a soldier.

“I’m not going to bail. I’m better than last time. You know that.”

“I know. Just - whatever happens, you get your family out. Promise me.”

“I’m not going to bail.” You want to tell him the truth, that you wouldn’t bail on him, but you just repeat the words, squaring your shoulders.

“You got a chance at this - to save him. You gotta take it, no matter what.” You feel every word, hitting you as hard as a punch.

“Do you remember what you said to me, that morning after I got shot?” You take a step towards him, pistol still in your hand. “You said you wouldn’t of left me. Then you asked if I would of done the same for you.”

“That’s not the same thing.”

“Yes it is. No matter what happens, we are both walking out of there tonight. Even if I have to drag your ass out myself.” He told you that you would have time. Time to do the things you have imagined doing to him for longer than you would like to admit. You planned on seeing it through, at least tonight. “Now move it, soldier.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He walks past you to the car, and you notice how hard his fist is balled at his side, but you don’t say anything. All you can do is hope to whatever divine power there is that you make it through this night, and that there would be just one more, so you can see that promise through.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Stay low.” Frank mouths, and with the minimal light in the tunnel, even your eyes struggle to catch it. You nod, and you both begin to creep forward, seeing the four men guarding the next turn.

You knew coming in the back, there would be men in the way, but at least here you have them cornered, and there’s no other way out. Crouching down, both you and Frank take a side each. He uses his silenced pistol, shooting two in the head swiftly, while you keep your gun your pocket and crack the two guards heads together, feeling the crush of bone underneath your hands.

“Come here.” You tuck yourself behind the stack of dead bodies. The tunnel was only just big enough for you both to lie side by side, and you can see the flashlights up ahead, signalling more people. “It’s gonna get real tight before it opens. This part is small-“

“I remember there’s a cut away, just up to the right. I can fit through the gap and drop in above them, right when it opens to the end.” The hours you spent studying those stupid maps seem to come in handy. All the tunnels lead to one main section, presumably where the waste would have been dumped out and filtered if the project had finished, and it seemed the only likely area a temporary base would be. Frank looks at you with an emotion you can’t place in the dark, and then looks up ahead again.

“Go. I’ll clean it out here. Don’t drop down till I get there.”

“Shout if you need me.” You both stand as quietly as possible, and just as your about to turn and slip out the cutaway, Franks hand wraps around your neck.

He pulls you close, and it’s so dark you can’t see anything but you can smell him. You can hear how hard his heart is beating, running on pure adrenaline. He presses his forehead to yours, and you half hope he might kiss you, no matter how stupid it might be to do that here. He takes in a long breath, prolonging the seconds you have.

“Go.” He says again and lets his hand drop. You spin and turn immediately, knowing if you stood there another second you wouldn’t have the strength to leave.

You find the cut away quickly, and shimmy your way down the small opening above the tunnel. You presumed this was meant for wiring or filter pipes, but either way it was only just big enough for you to shift through. Finally seeing the end, you squint your eyes, looking down and watching as Frank makes his way up the tunnel.

You have only seen him in action once, and even then you were too distracted trying to aim your gun that you couldn’t watch him. He was coming up on about fourteen armed men, all in pretty much a row with little to no cover. You start to worry, maybe he would need help, but he said hold out, so you listen, remembering what happened last time you ignored him.

A guttural scream and a crack of bone snap your head to the right. You hadn’t even seen Frank move over there, but he already downed two men by the time the others realised someone was coming for them. Using the dead body as cover, he fires off perfectly aimed shots, sending bullets into heads and necks, spots he knows will kill instantly.

He drops people like fucking flies. All those articles you read about him taking on rooms full of people with just his fists - you thought they’d been exaggerating, but this was a whole new level. He fired more shots, and when the gun clicked blank, he had timed it perfectly so he was close enough to the last men to fight them hand to hand.

He throws one punch and sends the guy straight into the concrete, and two more men come in at the same time. Holding each one by the neck, Frank yells, and headbutts one while taking the punch of the other in the stomach. It was strategic - he knew he couldn’t fight both at once, so he knocked out the bigger guy first and took the brunt of the smaller, knowing he could finish him off.

He does, spilling his brains out onto the floor using the man’s own gun. He was heaving breaths, and you could hear commotion down the end of the tunnel now that the gunfire had stopped. He looks up at the end of the cut away and nods, then starts running down the tunnel. You shimmy up and out, and when you drop down, Frank is standing right next to you.

He’s covered head to toe in bright red. It’s dripping onto the floor, and when he grabs your arm and pushes something into your hand, you can feel the blood is still warm.

“Take this.” You know it’s his knife, one of the ones you had been throwing for the past few days after you mastered the kitchen knives. “You want right or left?”

You look over the drop down to the main section of the sewer, men with guns running around frantic after seeing a few of the bodies drop down from the tunnel entrance.

“I don’t care, but when we find the Colonel, he’s mine.” Frank nods, and the two of you jump down at the same time. The first guy you meet doesn’t even get the chance to scream before you rip his throat out.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Franks firing off more rounds than he can count. He had expected this - a bus load of assholes running around scared shitless, but he hadn’t realised just how many people ‘New America’ had. Either way, the two of you were making a big ass dent in them, and Frank could only see about eight people left standing.

You were going strong, using a mix of your own training and the new stuff he taught you. It made you unbeatable. A force, and if Frank didn’t have so many people shooting at him, he wouldn’t of been able to take his eyes off you.

Another guy comes at him, and Frank drops the gun. By his count, the ammo in it is out anyway, and he still has steam left in him. Just as he goes to throw a punch, the man stops his attack, freezes in the air, then drops to the ground like a sack of potatoes.

Then he sees the knife, his knife, sticking out of the back of his head, and looks up to see a smug sort of look on your face.

“We clear?” Frank says, ripping the knife back out of the dead guys skull.

“Clear. The elevator shaft is up ahead, but there’s no actual lift. They have to be down there.” You swallow, chest rising and falling fast.

You lead the way, and Frank stays close behind, ready to dive in if anyone comes out. To get down, you’d have to go one at a time, climbing the service ladder, and he stops you just before the drop, descending first. It’s a long way down, longer than he realised, but you don’t seem surprised.

“Sacred of heights?” You whisper, reading his face way too easy.

“Just a long way out.” You nod, and begin to come down above him.

As you get about halfway, Frank hears it. It’s a woman, crying out in pain. And kids. Kids, screaming. They aren’t saying anything, just yelling out. Terrified. One of them could be your brother, but there’s definitely at least three people down there. A hard whack echos up the shaft, paired with more screaming. Your both moving twice as fast.

Frank hits the ground running, knowing you’ll be right behind him, and then he sees it.

A woman is strapped to a chair, her face bruised and bleeding. There’s two kids behind her, a little girl, no older than ten, and a boy, maybe around 12. For only a second he thinks that could be him - the boy you’ve been looking for your entire life, and then scans the room for anyone else.

A man in a military uniform towers over them, intimidating as he pulls up his fist to punch the woman again.

“Hey!” Franks voice is more animal than man, blood spitting out as he yells across the room. He’s moving fast, and with the momentum, doesn’t think before he just slams his body weight into the man, sending him straight onto the floor.

The Colonel.

You were next to him, and he looks up at you just for a second. He knows if that was your brother you wouldn’t be with him right now, you’d be over there. You look at the boy, and shake your head. It wasn’t him. He wasn’t here.

“Get them out, Frank.” You were towering over the Colonels crumpled body, jaw set tight. A flash of the metal coming out the tips of your fingers clues him in, and he knows this kill is yours.

Turning away, he can only hear the noise of what your doing. The sound of the Colonels scream was music to his ears, but he cut at the ropes tying the woman down.

“You okay to stand?”

“I’m fine - please, my babies. Please they need-“

“It’s okay. We’re gonna get you out of here.” He knew the look in her eyes. A parent who had suffered the worst of it, he could see it all over her body, to make sure her children didn’t face it. He got all three of them to the ladder, and heard another scream of pain from the Colonel. He couldn’t leave you down here, but it was a long way up.

“It’s okay. We can get out.” The little boy says to him, and Frank turns and bends down to his level. “I remember how to go out.”

“Yeah? Alright, buddy. You take this-“ He gives the burner phone he uses to call Madani to the boy, who’s eyes were wide with determination. “And call the number in there as soon as your up the top, okay?”

“Thank you.” The mother pulls him into a hug, not caring about how drenched in blood he is. “My husband-“

“The doctor?” She nods quickly. “He’s alright. He’s in. protective custody. The woman on the phone, she’ll take you to him.”

She looks down at his chest, recognising the bright white skull painted on it.

“We owe you our lives, Frank Castle.” Is what she says before disappearing up the ladder, following her children closely behind. There’s no one alive up the top anyways, so as soon as they dial that number, Madani will come for them.

He’s confident that they’re safe, so he turns back around, seeing your foot pressed against the Colonels neck, blood pooling in the side of his mouth. He pulls over the chair and sits down, content to watch the show.

“Where. Is. He.” You punctuate, and there’s none of that playful glint in your eye he knows so well. No, this was all business. You look how you did when he first met you - cold, wild. Mean. It’s a good look on you, when it’s aimed at someone other than him.

“I don’t. - I don’t kn-“ You slam your foot in his face, then crouch down as he spits out blood and teeth. “They don’t tell me!”

“Then your of no use to me.” Your hand grips his throat, and he can see the blood start to leak out from underneath your fingers.

“Wait! I can he- help you. I’m the only one who could draw the-em out.” He chokes out, and he watches you consider it. Then your hand loosens, and Frank stands up and walks over. The Colonel splutters, and tries to shuffle away from his approaching figure, but you kick him in the ribs and he falls flat.

“Don’t buy it.” Frank leans to whisper in your ear, locking eyes with the Colonel.

“How else do you suppose you can find America’s most notorious mobsters, huh? Whoring yourself out to the Punisher will only get you so f-“ Franks boot whacks him across the face, and he’s out cold.

“Frank.” You say, and hes still staring down at the man, who’s head is slumped to the side.

“He’s alive.” Frank growls, shoving at him with his boot.

“He might have a point.”

“Bullshit he has a point.”

“We could use him as bait. Draw them out and ambush them when they least expect it.”

“That’s if he isn’t still working with them. This wasn’t his entire operation - he’s still got men stationed somewhere.”

“I know. He could be - but either way, what else do we have on the Gnuccis? They’ve been ghosts since Washington.” He can see the frustration on your face. You had really thought your brother was going to be down here. “Maybe we…”

“No. This guys a maggot. We put him down now.”

“No one wants this douche bag dead more than me. Trust me. But, if we can get something out of him before we rip his arms off, maybe we should try. He’s the only lead I have, Frank, and as much as I want to, someone told me to fight with my head, and I’m trying to listen to him.” The Colonel starts to wake up, his head twisting to the other side. Frank sighs.

“Fuck. How do we get him out of here?”

“It’s probably easier if he’s unconscious, right?” Frank nods, and watches as your fist slams into his jaw, sending him straight back to sleep. “We should move. Agent Madani will be here any second. The doctors family - they were okay?”

“Looks like the mother took the worst of it. No idea what this piece of shit did to them down here.” He looks around, surveying the tiny area they had probably been kept in for weeks on end. It stinks like shit, and there was no bed, no place to be except for a tiny corner with a sheet on the ground. Looking back at the unconscious body, his mind starts to drift to all the ways he’s going to pull this guy apart.

“Pick him up. We need to move.” Before he can argue your on the ladder, and he’s swinging the dead weight over his shoulder, shuffling up the ladder.

There’s a part of him that’s relieved. Not because you didn’t get your brother - he thinks he wants that just as much as you do, now. He’s relieved because he thought that last night was it. That would be that last night he would spend with you, and he played it safe, sticking to his side of the bed, not doing shit about that energy he had no doubt you were brewing on too.

He was relieved that you would have the time he promised you, and that after he broke this assholes face for you, he would use that time to drive you just as insane as you have made him, in all the ways he knew how.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

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