#but what’s the point he does look at mick like he’s the sun

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Hiiii I absolutely loved you Max fics I don’t know if you ever would want to do that but if your interested please do a mafia storyline with Max or Mick! ❤️

Little Lion Man || MV1 & CH16

Pairings: dark!Charles Leclerc x fem!reader, Max Verstappen x fem!reader Summary: you find yourself caught in a war between the mafia families that ruled Monaco. Warnings: 18+ only, nsfw, guns, murder, pregnancy, slight non con/reluctant vibes, forced marriage WC: 3.5k

For a nation so small it was hard to believe that Monaco could be home to not one but three mafia families. There was the Leclerc famile, Verstsppen familie and the Sainz familia. The Leclerc’s had always called Monaco home but the Dutch and Spanish families had made their arrival known in the 90’s, almost burning the city in the war that broke out.

Just over 30 years later, it looked like history was going to repeat itself as the prodigal sons took over the family businesses.

“You are my daughter, if I say you will marry Charles then you will marry him. End of argument.” You would hardly call it an argument when you weren’t even given an opportunity to say your piece but your father left no room for a rebuttal as he slammed the door closed behind him. There was a reason the Sainz’s called him the Peacemaker.

You were a bargaining chip, a pawn in your father’s arsenal to end the war between the Leclerc’s and the Sainz’s before it could spill out into the street and affect everyone’s bottom line. The last thing anyone wanted was to lose their men, their money and their product.

Two weeks later you were shoved into a wedding dress that could have been a film prop for any 80’s rom-com, puffy sleeves and all. It was hideous.

“You are quite beautiful,” Charles said as you reached the dais where the priest waited. “I suppose that will make this easier.”

By ‘this’ you assumed he meant the moment the reception was over and you found yourself stepping into his bedroom, your bedroom too now. Charles had been quiet for most of the evening, indulging in a handful of whiskeys over ice as he mulled over what his life had become, but he found his voice as he tugged his tie off. “On the bed.”

Your fingers tightened around your waist as you hugged yourself, trying to fight back the tears you thought you had finished shedding when you resigned yourself to your fate. “You don’t have to do this, we can come to an arrangement.”

Charles scoffed and continued to unbutton his dress shirt. “This is the arrangement.”

You swallowed as he shucked the shirt over a leather armrest and you saw the dark tattoos that curled over his biceps and down his forearms. A snake moved with his muscles and entwined around a gothic cross. Beneath it, thorny roses with blood drops splattered over the petals decorated the otherwise sun kissed skin.

“I don’t know what my father told you but I-”

“Your father said you would be an obedient wife,” he interrupted as he pointed a ringed finger to the bed. “I’m only as terrible as you make me.”

You took a step back as he stepped closer, his hand lifting to your face. It was reflex to flinch from his touch, knowing the violence his hands were capable of dealing to those who displeased him. You couldn’t help shivering as his cold wedding band touched your cheek and his other arm snaked around your waist, dragging the zip of your dress down your spine.

“What does that even mean?” you whispered. You took a breath and grew the courage to tip your head back and met his uniquely green eyes - the colour brighter than the soul behind them.

He pushed the puffed sleeves from your shoulders until the dress fell to the floor and inhaled at the sight of your body being bared to him. Biting his lip, he stepped back and ran a hand over his shadow of a beard. “Behave yourself, and I will too. Push me, and I’ll push you back harder.”

You felt the colour drain from your face at the threat and he chuckled as he closed the distance between you, forcing your lips apart with a demanding kiss. His palms ran down your spine and over the curve of your ass, pulling you flush against the hard expanse of his body.

“One other thing,” he murmured against your lips. “Disappoint me or my family and, well…it will be the last thing you do, chérie.”

You collapsed into Max’s arms the moment he opened the door, your fingers digging into the straps of muscle along his back as you clung to him like a lifeline. The penthouse apartment was quiet except for the tv playing in the master bedroom and your sobs filled the foyer before he could even close the door.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Max said, despite holding you just as tight. “He probably has Arthur or Lorenzo following you.”

You started to pull back but his arms caged you in his embrace so you settled for talking into his chest. “I know how to lose a tail. I was careful.”

He sighed and rested his cheek on your head, inhaling the floral scent of your shampoo he had missed. “I know, liefje. How long is he gone for?”

You screwed your eyes closed and wished he had never brought Charles up, but you knew Max wanted to know how long he could have with you. “He’s in Nice for a meeting. A few hours at least.”

The hatred for your husband had led you into the arms of Max, his rival and head of the Verstappen familie. The three families would meet each quarter for negotiations and settle disputes, or at least that was what it was meant for, but they just used it as a way to flaunt their wealth and success over each other.

It was after the wedding when you went to your first one that Max had caught your lifeless eyes as you sat beside Charles, decked out in a custom designer dress with diamonds strung around your neck, slowly choking you. He had been struck down by the vision before him and had never wanted something for himself so much in his life. He had been willing to go to war for you and he didn’t even know your name. He had learned it soon enough.

“Do you know who he’s meeting?” Max asked. Even when he wasn’t meaning to he was phishing for information, a reflex he couldn’t seem to stop with a mind as sharp as his.

“Please, mijn leeuw, not tonight,” you whined as you buried your face in his neck. (My lion)

“I’m sorry,” he said with a kiss to your forehead before he tipped your chin back to meet his ice-blue eyes. “What do you need from me, liefje?”

“I need to forget. Please, help me forget.”

Max closed his eyes as rage hardened his features and you knew he was rueing the day he let Charles live. The solution to your problem couldn’t be solved with a bullet and although Max knew that, it was still a bitter pill to swallow. He wanted nothing more than to bathe in Charles’ blood for what he had done to you, but the retaliation would be catastrophic. He had too many people relying on him, friends and family alike.

All Max could give you was a few short hours of his time to show you how he would treat you if the circumstances had been kinder. For a few short hours of stolen time he could erase the touch of Charles from your mind.

Max took your hand, his fingers easing your wedding ring off before placing it on the hall table with your handbag. You relished the freedom that came without the constricting band and flexed your fingers like it had been physically painful to wear the gold jewellery. In a way, it had.

Linking his fingers with yours, Max led the way through the apartment and into the bedroom you found comfort in. This should have been the place you called home, the solace you returned to at the day’s end. It was the one place you felt safe, even though just being here put your life in danger. If Charles ever found out you knew you would be dead, your body left somewhere it would never be found.

“Max…do you believe in God?” you asked in the quiet afterwards. Your arm was curled around his waist, fingers tracing the lion tattoo that covered his rib cage. You could feel the time ticking away with each heartbeat in his chest that you rested your head upon.

“No,” he said honestly, his accent thickening with his amusement. “Do you?”

You looked at the slight change in skin tone where your wedding band usually sat and slipped out of his embrace to find your clothes. “I have to,” you whispered as your throat began to tighten at the thought of returning to the cold mansion Charles owned. “There’s got to be something more than this hell. Maybe one day he will answer my prayers.”

Max could remember the feeling of taking over the family business, how he thought he was invincible - godlike even. Now he felt powerless to the situation. He didn’t like the feeling. He wanted to be the one to answer your prayer.

“One day…” he promised himself aloud, missing the way your spine stiffened at the words. There was no guarantee you would survive long enough for him to keep it.

You stared dumbly at the two pink lines and felt the walls of the bathroom constricting around you. You couldn’t imagine bringing a child into the world you were imprisoned in, it was unfair and deadly. What if the babe had dirty blond hair and ice blue eyes? A new fear sent a shudder down your body and you looked at your stomach, nothing to show - yet.

The door crashed off its hinges as Charles busted it in and you screamed at the surprise, cradling your abdomen on reflex.

“I called you ten fucking times!” Charles growled. His eyes narrowed as they scanned the room before settling on the pregnancy tests lined up. For the first time since you had wed him, Charles looked lost for words, and after a moment his hard stare softened. “We are having a baby?”

You couldn’t remember when he ever addressed anything as ‘we’, it was always you and him - separate, not together. You didn’t know how to react to the instant change in him but you nodded stiffly as he waited for an answer.

A smile grew on his face as he stepped forward and pulled your hands away from your stomach to place his own beneath your camisole. “My son, my heir,” he chuckled, the warmth of his palms almost blistering your skin.

“It might be a girl.” You flinch at the look he gave you and muttered an apology. Just because he was suddenly being gentle didn’t mean he would stay that way, especially if he ever found out the child wasn’t his. Nausea rolled through you and you pushed away to hurdle yourself at the toilet before you emptied your stomach.

It wasn’t morning sickness.

It was a sickness of the heart.

You knew if Max were to believe the child was his then he would have no choice but to go to war, it was a matter of pride and family. On the other hand, Charles would never let the child live if it wasn’t his and despite just learning of its existence, you were willing to do anything to protect it. You needed to tread carefully and that meant no more escaping your guards to see Max. It meant playing the good wife, at least for the next eight months.

You could feel his intense stare from across the table, willing you to meet his eyes. Too many times you felt them drifting up from your husband’s hand clasped on your lap only to snap them back down before you could give in. It would do no good to look at Max. You hadn’t seen him since the night before you took the pregnancy test and you had dreaded going to the quarterly meeting.

There was no hiding the bump in the tight dress Charles had chosen for you. There was no way that Max had missed it when you walked in on your husband’s arm. He had seen it and he had questions.

“I’m going to the ladies room,” you excused yourself after the meal, while the men talked business.

“Arthur will go with you,” Charles said with a nod to his younger brother sitting at his other side. “I don’t trust any of these assholes.”

His hand lingered on the small of your back as you stepped out and you glanced across to see Max’s eyes fixated on that touch. Though you did not welcome the hands of your husband, you no longer feared them the way you used to. Charles was far gentler now that you were, potentially, carrying his heir. It could also be Max’s.

A hand clasped over your mouth and silenced the scream that rose in your throat. “It’s me,” Max whispered, soothing your racing heart.

You looked around the powder room wondering how he had made it past Arthur and saw a narrow cleaner’s entrance left open a crack. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“You never came back, never answered my messages.” The hurt in Max’s voice made your chest ache and your hands dropped to the growing swell of your abdomen. He followed that movement, his chest filling with the deep breath he took and the pearl buttons on his shirt started to strain until he exhaled. “I didn’t believe the rumours.”

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?” he asked, the biting tone wanting detailed explanations like you were one of his men answering for your actions.

Your lips parted, ready to tell him exactly what you were sorry for, before they slammed shut. “I should go.”

He caught your arm as you moved past and he pulled you flush against his body to bury his face in your neck. “Tell me, please. I’ll make it happen, I’ll answer your prayers, I’ll go to war for you - for both of you. Just tell me, is it mine?”

The confession threatened to slip past your lips, the truth that you didn’t know, that he very likely could be. The confession threatened to eat you alive like it had done every time you saw one of Max’s men around Monaco. They always managed to get a message to you, but you never had a response to send.

“No,” you muttered as you pushed him away.

He rocked back on his heels but remained steady as he watched you retreat to the exit. “No, it isn’t mine or no, you won’t tell me?”

Your back hit the door and you blindly reached for the handle, sparing one last look at his shimmering eyes so you could remember them a little longer. “Whatever helps you to sleep at night.”

“Dammit, liefje, just tell me. I need to know.”

You broke away at the endearment that weakened your resolve and your shoulders curled in on themselves. “I can’t tell you, Max, because I don’t know. I. Don’t. Know.” Your voice cracked and the weight of those words fell tenfold on your shoulders as your hand slipped from the doorknob. “I don’t know who the father is, Max. I-I’m sorry.”

His strong arms grappled you into a tight embrace as you broke down in them, your knees giving out as you felt his lips on your forehead, smelt his cologne on his neck. “It’s okay, liefje, I'm going to fix this.”

You pulled back with eyes and blinked away the tears as you placed your hand on your belly. “How? What if it’s not yours?”

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of everything,” he promised as he tipped your chin back. “Mine or not, this baby is yours and that’s enough.”

A knock sounded at the door and you panicked as Arthur asked if everything was alright. Your reply was muffled as Max stole a kiss and quietly repeated his promise before disappearing back into the cleaner’s room. Wiping your eyes, you unlocked the door and met your brother-in-law’s narrowed eyes before they searched the room behind you. “You’ve been crying.”

“Pregnancy,” you said with a wave of your hand. “It’s called hormones, Tur. Happens all the time, just ask your brother.”

Max’s chair was still empty when you reached the table but he entered from the main door a few minutes later. The mask he often wore in front of those outside the familie was firmly in place as he unbuttoned his suit with one hand and dropped back into his seat, apologising for taking an important call.

“Your men can't handle one evening on their own?” Charles baited over the rim of his wine glass with an antagonising smile.

Max returned the grin with his own as he slipped his phone into his suit jacket. “You have no idea what my men are capable of.”

You could feel the ripples of those words across the table, the feel of a threat in the air. It not only set Charles on edge but Carlos too - the two sharing a look of concern before facing the Dutchman once more.

Max took a mouthful of his gin and tonic and bit into the lime wedge without reacting to the strong citrus taste. Taking his time, he picked up his napkin and cleaned the drops of juice from his fingers before laying it over his lap as everyone watched closely.

It looked as if he were nervously fiddling with his rings under the napkin and Carlos snickered, relaxing back into his chair until your lion spoke again. “But you will…”

The air stilled for a moment as the napkin drifted to the floor and warmth splattered your cheek. You couldn’t think fast enough to process what had happened or why the wetness on your cheek was red. It could have been minutes but it felt like hours before your brain connected the dots and you saw your husband's body slumped in his chair before you, his green eyes open but unseeing.

Across the table, Max had risen to his feet, the fidgeting revealing a silencer he had been screwing onto his gun. He was cold and precise as he took out Carlos next, his accuracy unmatched. Around the seats he went, faster than they could react as the doors were busted open and his second in command arrived. Danny was ready to die protecting Max’s back while you dropped to the floor and prayed for protection of your own.

“We have to get out of here,” Arthur growled as he caught your ankle and dragged you back where he was kneeling, his white chinos turning red as they absorbed his brother’s blood. “Stay low, protect my nephew.”

“Do you have a gun?” you asked with a shaking voice.

“Of course not,” he spat angrily. No one was meant to have weapons at these meetings and you were assuming Max had retrieved his from the reception area before returning.

“Then you’re fucked.” You kicked your Louboutin into his face and scrambled away as he howled in pain, reaching the edge of the table close to Max.

“Liefje, are you alright?”

“Arthur, under there,” you rushed as you pointed behind you, closing your eyes as he lifted the cloth and the muffled gunshot rang out.

“Not anymore.”

“Time to go,” Danny suggested, reloading his magazine and kicking a few bodies to check they were truly dead.

“Is that it?” You asked, hope filling your voice despite the devastation in the room surrounding you.

Daniel threw his head back and laughed but Max just shook his head and said, “This is just the beginning. We just declared war.”

“But they’re dead.”

“Someone will take over, and when they do - we will need to be ready.” Max reached out and wiped the blood from your cheek. “You’re free of him now, you both are.”

Your breath rattled out of you as you felt the weight lift from your shoulders and as the sirens grew in the distance you managed to smile, the first genuine smile in months. Your prayers had finally been answered. “Thank you, mijn leeuw.”

Five Months Later

Ice blue eyes met yours before a piercing cry erupted and Max’s laugh was one of pure joy. “Mijn zoon,” he cooed softly as he rested his cheek on your head and you watched the midwife gently bring your son to your waiting arms.

Tears blurred your vision at the warm comforting weight of his tiny body lying chest to chest with you. You had never felt anything more precious, never held anything more delicate. He was perfect.

“My little lion man,” you whispered, brushing a kiss over the tufts of dark hair he already had. “We love you so much.”

As if he knew what the words meant, his eyelashes fluttered and he peeked them open to bear twin green irises. He would be an heir. He could unite the families. Or, he could tear it all apart.

Only time would tell.

#max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen x reader #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc imagine #f #mafia au #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula one imagine #formula one fanfiction

[itsgodepi]

If I lose my mind | Ch. 7

Series summary: When life has given you more than enough lemons and you cannot figure out how to make a lemonade, the only way to make it work is to get rid of the whole basket. But was it neccesary to send you to a whole different dimension for that? A juicer would have done the job, really. Or, one day you go to sleep as a normal person and the next you wake up as a Formula One driver. You've never been a fan but isn't it like, one of the most exclusive sports? Pairing: CL16, LH44, CS55, DR3 x fem!reader Chapter: Previous | Next Word Count: 2.8k Also on AO3

You do win a few positions in the French Grand Prix, after hours of driving in circles under the scorching sun. Two to be exact, from a P15 to a P13. It is true that being thirtieth does not grant you any points and of course not a trophy, you will have to wait a bit more to acquire those milestones in your career, but it is not like anybody cares much about that either. The most important thing, as you have come to understand after talking to the team, is that you have yet again managed to beat your teammate. That detail is sometimes even more valuable for your career than a couple points —although the team would really appreciate a couple of them.  

It was an easy feat for that week’s race anyway. Mick ran straight into the gravel on lap 23, his car ramming with such force into the barriers that it no longer looks like a Formula One car when it is towed back to the garage. He was pushing the limit, that is for sure, trying his best to surpass another driver named Ocon while also controlling his pace for the long race still ahead... until he wasn’t.  

It is scary to witness, the way his car reaches its limits and goes crazy, the steering wheel spinning out of control while Mick can do nothing but pray that the crash won’t be fatal, that he won’t get hurt. It is even scarier to think that you are putting yourself in that position for the third week in a row now,  clueless about what is happening or if this is even the real world, but still allowing a group of unknown people to play dress up with you and strap you down into that car again and again. 

“Hey, where are you going? To the briefing?” Carlos flags you down in your walk through the main street of the paddock, his voice loud in the almost empty space. It is still too early for the photographers and guests to be roaming around, gift shops and restaurants completely deserted save for the workers preparing for the worst day of the weekend. It is nice to see, honestly. 

The scenery has undergone a big change, the huge terraces and open-air spaces of the French paddock long forgotten and replaced with cosier restaurants in preparation for the harsh weather forecast for Hungary’s Grand Prix. Your subconscious is clearly working overtime to fool you into believing this is reality. 

Carlos, Charles and another man are seated in one of the few tables set outside the Ferrari motorhome, relaxing with some coffee and snacks. “Yeah? Are you not?” you respond with furrowed eyebrows, your speed faltering since you see them making no effort to rush their meal and get to a driver’s meeting that started ten minutes ago. 

Instead, Carlos beckons you with a gesture of his hand, a cheeky grin pulling at his lips when he simply tells you to “Come over for a second”.  

A request that you confusedly fulfill with a last look at your watch.  

The driver stretches a hand out to you when you near the group, leaning back into his chair as he looks up at your approaching figure. By sheer instinct, you hold your arm towards the driver as well, placing your hand in his open one when you are close enough to do so. Carlos’ smile grows the littlest bit at that, his fingers closing around yours to get you to walk that much closer to his seat. 

An interaction that does not pass unnoticed by the rest of the table. 

“You don’t have this meeting or...?” you repeat your question, gaze flying to where the building you were running to hides, and then back to the crinkling eyes of the Ferrari driver. 

The pair lets the unknown man at the table fill you in “It’s delayed until nine, they sent an email a while ago”, his Spanish accent shining through his words. He must be Carlos’ guest, the absence of any Ferrari merch making him stand out in the middle of the red decoration and the two team drivers. No pass is hanging from his neck though, he might indeed be part of the team. “Didn’t Nick tell you?” 

Oh, and he knows Nick too? 

“Seriously? No, he didn’t...” you murmur, taking your phone out from your pocket with your free hand and looking through your unread messages, can’t believe you have literally run across the paddock for a meeting that won’t start for another half an hour at least “I was meeting him there.” 

Before you can start sulking, Carlos steals your attention with a squeeze of your hand “Well, then you have nothing to do, right?”, standing up from his chair to lend it to you before you can get an answer out. The Spanish driver uses his hold on your hand to direct you down onto the seat —much like he had done just a week ago, you are glad to at least know his name this time—, looking down at you with an accomplished expression when he succeeds “I’m going to go get you something. You didn’t have breakfast, did you?” 

Carlos only lets go of your hand and disappears inside the motorhome when you confirm his suspicions, you have not eaten anything yet, and honestly were not planning to. The nerves won’t let you keep anything down in days like these, your diet consisting of some water and what little fruit you can munch on to not faint in the middle of the road, but you don’t have the heart to tell him that.  

The situation is another déjà vu from some time ago, when a certain Ferrari driver approached you in your first ever visit to the Paddock with a delicious surprise and a similar question. This time though, he can do nothing but sit back and watch while his teammate fills the small table with treats for you. The other man at the table shaking his head at the Spanish’s antics, a smile hidden under his hand, you would not even be able to eat all of this if you had spent days in a hunger strike. 

Carlos pulls up an extra chair from a nearby table and encourages you to dive in, taking his probably cold coffee from in front of you to finish what was left in it.  

You put your phone down then, finally concluding with a sigh “I’ve got nothing from Nick... and now he isn’t answering”, and picking up one of the most manageable foods of your improvised breakfast in the meantime: a tiny bowl of fruit salad. 

Charles lets out a chuckle at that, swirling the contents of his paper cup “Like you would have seen it anyway, I’m still waiting for an answer about the plane tickets, just saying...” 

“Mate, I sent her a good luck text back in France, and did you get a response to it?” Carlos joins in on his friend's complaints, making a dramatic pause and answering his own question on the same beat “Yeah, me neither” 

Maybe you would have felt called out or exposed that these two were discussing your private conversations —or lack of thereof— out here in the open and in front of a stranger, but that’d be if you had any idea of what the hell they were talking about. What messages? Did you give them your number at some point and don’t remember it? Well, Nick and the media coordinator have been the only ones blowing up your phone since you received the device anyway. 

“I don’ know what you’re talking about” you mumble, shrugging your shoulders as they continue airing instances where you have ignored their texts and you follow on with your task, the fruit tastes really good actually.  

After a while, Carlos tap his foot on your crossed legs to gain back your attention, when he finally notices you have grown quiet during their tirade, and offers you a smile  

“C’mon don’t get mad, we’re just joking” Charles consoles you as well —unnecessarily so, since the only emotion you are experiencing is confusion— “It’s because we’re flying private a bit later, and I don’t want you getting home before I do”   

Home? What is he talking about? And why does he have to arrive first? Seriously, you are missing too much information 

“You should fly with us, I’m sure the rest won’t mind” Carlos chimes in, stealing a piece of the chocolate crêpe in your plate. A plate that you push to his side of the table right after, cutting him a couple more pieces so he can help you finish it up. 

Through a mouthful of the sweet dessert, you question the obvious “The rest?”. Completely disregarding all the other important questions crowding your mind, a skill you have developed after weeks of not understanding anything the people around you talk about. 

As your answer, you have the three men on the table spewing names on the go, confirming the presence of at least six other people on the plane. The unknown Spanish man seems to also be included in the passengers’ list.  

You don’t mind flying with them, honestly. You have somehow grown accustomed to taking a plane every other week, which means this won’t be much of a change. This way you’ll have at least someone to talk to on the journey to whichever country is next on the schedule, Nick always falls asleep a second after taking off.  

The “private” part is the most confusing one, you and Nick have been taking normal flights to every Grand Prix. Guess your subconscious has decided to step up its game. You’ll follow the script anyway; at the end of the day, you are just trying to find the end of this abnormally long dream. 

You agree to their proposal with a shrug of your shoulders, stuffing your face with the last bit of a second crêpe that you cannot believe you’ve finished. It feels nice to tone down that sinking feeling you have in your stomach on Sundays. 

Charles could not be happier with your decision, something he lets you know as soon as you get on the way to the drivers briefing. Carlos and the other man have taken the lead, walking in front of the two of you and chatting about an interview they will be recording later in the day. And they do it in Spanish, which feels so refreshing to hear after weeks of being surrounded by people talking every other language.  

While you are trying to discretely listen in on their conversation, Charles lightly nudges you with his shoulder in an attempt to get you out of your thoughts. He easily succeeds, has you looking up at him over the lid of your cup of hot chocolate —yes, you are still trying to finish Carlos’ impromptu breakfast— in the next beat. 

“I’m really looking forward for the break” his voice is low, the corners of his lips tilted up into a beautiful smile that he can’t seem to be able to get rid of. His green eyes are shinning with pure joy, focused only on you and the way you slowly match his grin. 

“Are you?” you do not know exactly what he means or why is he looking at you like that but feel compelled go along with it. 

The Ferrari driver peels his eyes from you to look at the path in front of him, his cheeks still full with that big smile as he crosses his arms over his chest and gives you another playful push “It’s going to be great, I promise” 

The briefing is exhausting, as always. The drivers have had a lot of issues during the Free Practices and Qualifying, which means it takes you half an hour more to break free from the meeting. The Ferrari teammates remain quiet by your side, they managed to lock themselves into the second and third place of the starting grid, so its preferable to keep a low profile and listen. Lewis is one of the most vocal ones, in his seventh place right behind Alonso, and this other Sebastian Vettel guy too —another surname that rings so many alarms in your head—, but his criticism of the traffic during his fast lap is much more justified. He got knocked down to P18. 

You are happy with your P13, the same position you ended up in on the French GP and two positions in front of Mick, so you have simply been trying not to fall asleep in the middle of it all. 

All the drivers are walking out of the room, chatting about their schedules and the final result of their complaints, when a certain McLaren driver comes up to awaken you from your slumber. Daniel suddenly drops his arm over your shoulders while you are sleepily trailing behind Nick, bringing you close to his body while he balances the two of you from one side to the other, a chuckle slipping past his lips at your startled expression. 

“Gonna let me invite you out for lunch?” Daniel offers, making you match his pace as Nick leads you both down the corridor.  

“Huh? Why?” comes as your instant response, understandably so when you have not exchanged more than a couple of words after he had that fight with Nick on the Austrian Grand Prix. His words about having to talk to you later are still bouncing off your ears.  

Daniel has not approached you for that important conversation ever since, has not mentioned that horrible day when you woke up in the garage with him not once, and now he wants to go have lunch with you? It doesn’t seem right. 

“What do you mean why?” the man frowns, having not expected any kind of push back from your part. Daniel decides to come to a stop before exiting the building, letting go of you so you can better talk face to face “Just because? I mean, it’s been so long since we last went out... Do you not want to? That’s okay too” 

Daniel’s voice makes something shift inside of you, a strange weight setting over your chest at hearing his dejected tone. It is a wave of unfamiliar thoughts and feelings that swarm your mind, inexplicable ones, that are quickly growing into a awful headache. 

It is not something you expected either, the way someone that seems so happy and over the top on his interviews, would deflate just because you are cautious about spending time with him. But you didn't imagine feeling sick to your stomach from watching him like that.

“No, I-” you start speaking, more out of sheer need to wipe that sad frown from his face than anything else, still not sure of what is making you feel so distressed “Yeah, of course I want to, it’s just that I literally ate half the Ferrari buffet, and I really can’t have anything before the race because I get sick and... you know?” you explain, almost stumbling over your words and probably speaking in the thickest accent he has ever heard with how fast you try to go over your excuses 

Daniel expression faintly lifts at your nervous reaction and he shakes his head “Don’t worry about it, we can go any other time! I was-… it’s just that things have been a bit strange since Austria, so I wanted to make sure everything’s alright. You can talk to me whenever you need, you know that, right?” 

And although you nod almost immediately in confirmation, trying to look confident and willing to do so, this is another conversation that will make the rounds on your mind for nights on end. For now, it is the first thing on your head from the second you step inside the car, to the moment you leave the paddock that same afternoon.

Although there are even more waiting to happen.

Nick has decided it is finally time to inform you about the start of the holidays —most probably that break Charles had mentioned—, no race no nothing for a month. No seeing Daniel for that meal you promised him either, or even a bye-bye to him or any of the drivers. And Nick not only has the audacity to dump all that new information on you after accompanying you to your hotel room, but he also leaves you completely alone after reminding you of your next schedule in England, which is actually 15 days away. Fifteen days where he won't be with you.

What does he mean goodbye? What are you supposed to do now? 

Next chapter

___

Author's note: Hi! It's been way too long since I last posted, hasn't it? Seriously, uni is killing me. Hope you all liked the chapter!! I've been rereading all your comments a million times to get some motivation, so thanks for the help hahahha. I'm already missing F1.

Thank you so much for reading!!

Taglist: @purplephantomwolf @raye2000 @yuiiimd @drezzerk33 @leclercdream @homie0sapien @minkyungseokie @carlossainzwho @rewmuslupin @kyuupidwrites @raevyng @lazybot @gills-lounge @hiraethrhapsody @jjkclub @darleneslane @therealcap

#f1 x reader #f1 fic #carlos sainz x reader #charles leclerc x reader #daniel ricciardo x reader #lewis hamilton x reader #formula one x reader #formula one x you #f1 x you #f1 imagine

[thisismeracing]

King of my heart | MS47 | part. 20

Pairing: Mick Schumacher x Hamilton!reader (she/her)

Warnings: curse words, mentions of food and alcohol, tooth-rotting fluff, angsty, mentions of anxiety and break up, not proofread, etc, etc. Minors DNI!

word count: 1.9k

part. 19 | series masterlist | part 21 | taglist

Summary: Mick Schumacher rode a lousy wave for quite some time, so when the sky gets cleaner and the sun brighter he just knows something terrible may be in store for him. Whereas y/n was just so magnetic, and the possibilities of life with her seemed better than anything his mind could ever create, that’s why, for the first time in forever, he threw caution carelessly through the window, hoping to get to the finish line before it catches up on him.

A/n: Thank you so so much for all the love and support! I see you, and I appreciate you! *mwah* I hope you guys like this chapter! Don't forget to reblog and let me know your thoughts <3

“Hey, Mase,” Yn smiled when she spotted the brown-haired Brit on the farthest table. Her stomach did a little somersault, and her heart got confused between beating faster or keeping the usual pace. 

Mason was right in front of her, wearing a white shirt and his biggest grin, the same he used to wear when they first became friends. Yn watched how he fiddled with his sunglasses and smiled wider. He, too, was a bit nervous about this conversation. “Thank you for agreeing to meet me,” she said before sitting down in front of him.

“We both deserve closure,” Mason stated, and Yn nodded.

She grabbed her phone, typing away a message to tell Mick she got there safely, and when she put down the device, she saw Mason eyeing the whole scene. 

“Does he make you happy?” he asked, no harm or hidden hatred behind his question and Yn knew it because his features seemed relaxed, a small tug on the corner of his lips gave away he wasn’t stressed or bothered. 

She nodded, “The happiest. Maybe that’s why I was so scared at first because I’ve never felt like this. And I know how dangerous unknown feelings can be.”

Mason bit his lips, “Was he the reason you wanted to see me? Did he suggest it?” 

“Yes and no,” she shook her head and chuckled. “He didn’t suggest it, Lewis did, actually. He has been since we broke up, you know he used to be wiser than us both, and he still is.” 

“I hope Lando doesn’t hear this, but I secretly root for Lewis. I will always do, even though we’re not really family anymore, nor friends.”

With the fond mention of her brother, Yn smiled, “Deep down he liked you, he was just afraid we were gonna hurt each other, and, he won’t admit it but he was jealous too. You were my first serious boyfriend after all.”

“My mom loved you too, even though she wouldn’t say it.”

Yn rolled her eyes playfully, before straightening her back, “We were so young, now look at you, playing for the big clubs, having fans around the world. I’m proud of you, Mase. And I’m sorry it took me forever to finally get to this point, I’m sorry for the things I said when we broke up, sorry for not being more patient with you.”

“I’m sorry too, Yn. I was kind of a dick to you in some situations, I can recognize it. We both should’ve had more patience, but I don’t condemn who we were, because, at the end of the day, you can’t expect experience from somebody who only started adult life. We were young and a bit reckless if you ask me,” their eyes met, and shared a laugh, both remembering the same situation. 

“Still, I should have messaged you before. We were young, but we know better now, it’s been a while since we know better, and I should have-”

Mason grabbed her wrist gently, and laid her hand on the table, “You know what didn’t change? You still act like everything is your responsibility and your fault. It’s not your job to fix the world, Yn. You could have messaged me before, yes, but so could I. But neither of us was ready, we didn’t have a reason to do so too. Now you’re in love, and you want to dive in without the weight of a past relationship, that’s reason enough, and it’s ok to do it for yourself, you deserve tranquility too.” 

Yn averted her eyes to her glass of water, just when the host got to their table, asking what they would order. Both smiled politely, asked for the vegan version of whatever was the main dish that night, and went back to talking. 

“I see your point,” she breathed.

“You gotta let people in. Yes, you need to think about others, but sometimes, some things can be avoided just by sharing the burden,” Mason stopped to take a sip of his water. “I think this is one of the reasons we didn’t work, we both wanted to take the weight and we didn’t communicate the way we should. We were so caught up in not hurting the other that we ended up hurting ourselves.”

“We hurt each other too,” Yn sighed.

“We did, and I was so angry I wouldn’t eat at your parents anymore, your dad was a great chef,” they laughed. 

“Shut up, I had a list of things I would buy for your niece, and by the time some of the stuff I bought got there we weren’t together anymore.” 

Mason threw his head back, covering his face with his hands to suppress the noise.

When silence settled by their table, Yn asked, “Do you forgive me?” 

“Did we forgive ourselves already?” 

She rolled her eyes again that night, the same playful banter as before, “My older version was a bit reckless, but I wouldn’t be here without her, so I found it in me to forgive her, yes. How about you? Have you forgiven yourself?” 

“Yeah, I’ve learned my lesson, nowadays I keep all the important dates on my calendar and they’re synced so if I lose my phone I won’t forget about a date,” he joshed making Yn laugh. They fought once because Mason forgot they had a date night scheduled, only for the fight to get bigger when Yn lost her phone and, without her calendar, forgot about one of his soccer matches. “I forgive you, Yn. Can you forgive me too?” 

“I think I forgave you a long time ago, Mase, I just wasn’t ready to admit it yet.” 

He smiled. 

They kept talking through dinner, from how their friends' group were nowadays, to racing and football. They had forgotten how funny talking to each other was. They still were compatible even after so many years, after growing and living and going through their fears, they still had that small seed that grew into a beautiful friendship years ago. 

When it was time to go, Mason wrapped his arms around Yn in a tight and long hug. 

“I wish you all the happiness in the world,” she whispered. 

“I wish you all the happiness in the world,” he repeated, adding, “You deserve it.” 

“We do.” 

“Thank you, Yn. Let your boyfriend know you guys can have free seats in any Mancity game you want,” he lightened the mood.

“Meh, I don’t think he’ll be that thrilled, Lew already got him into the Arsenal train,” Yn joked and Mason huffed, “but tell your girlfriend she’s invited to my next launch, and she can have a free pair of heels from this winter collection.”

“She’s not my girlfriend yet, I’m still thinking about the best way to pop the question,” Mason reminded, and Yn shrugged. 

“Yet. It’s just a matter of time. Also, this suggestion is only up if she’s not the jealous type, I don’t know, sometimes people are used to exes hating each other, when they see a pair different they can feel weird about it.” 

“You’re ranting,” he chuckled.

“I’m ranting, sorry.” 

“No, but she’s not jealous, I told her everything when the pictures came up, and she was fine. She still follows you by the way, liked all the posts about the winter collection, and talked my ears off when someone on Twitter said the shoes were ugly.” 

They laughed. 

“See you, Mase,” she bid farewell, planting a friendly kiss on his cheek.

“See you, Yn.”

When she got home that night Mick was sleeping on her couch, the TV on playing a random program about animals in Australia or whatever. The lights dimmed, and one of her scent candles was on, making the room glow and smell like peaches. She removed her heels, and coat, before lying on top of him, leaving a trail of kisses from his naked chest to his face. Mick moved slightly, brought her closer with one arm, and rubbed his eyes using his free hand.

“Hi, Schatzi,” his sleepy voice made Yn shiver slightly. 

She smiled, threading her fingers between his messy golden strands, “Hi, love. Were you waiting for me?” 

The Germa nodded, nuzzling his head on her neck, “I didn’t wanna go to be without you,” he confessed.

You could say they were going through their honeymoon phase, but they were very much aware that this would be a long phase. They would do things together and stay together as much as possible because they knew race weeks were crazy, their schedules wouldn’t always match, and both had a hectic life, so going to bed together, sharing breakfast in the morning, and doing small things with the other was something they agree on. Communication had been the key, and so both would confess their feelings and voice their needs, in order to avoid unnecessary fights. 

“Well, let’s go then, we have a long day tomorrow,” Yn pecked his lips before getting up and they made the small walk to the bedroom tangled in each other. 

“Did you finish packing?” Mick asked, eyes still closed, head buried on Yn’s neck.

She bit her lips, stopping by the bathroom door and turning her head. Their lips smashed together, and she scratched his neck lightly, earning a grunt from him. Mick’s grip on her waist tightened, and just when Yn thought she had him, he held her cheeks between his hands.

“Not gonna work,” he shook his head. “Did you finish packing?” he punctuated each word with a peck on her pouty lips and Yn whined. 

“I didn’t, I’m sorry. Can you help me in the morning?” she gave him the doe eyes and Mick sighed, suppressing a laugh, before finally nodding. “Do you happen to have some free space in yours, by the way?” 

This time she heard his laugh when he got inside the bathroom. She followed suit, watching him start to brush his teeth. She loved how domestic it felt to go through her night routine with Mick by her side. That wasn’t the first night they shared together, the first night he spent in her apartment, but each time she felt it again and again, and it was so peaceful. It felt warm and comfortable. It felt like love.

The next morning Mick helped Yn finish packing, they had breakfast at her parents’ house and then went on to their trip. They had planned to travel and enjoy the week’s break together in Mallorca, at the Schumacher’s holiday house. It wasn’t high season, but it also meant no beach for then, which wasn’t a problem, because they planned on staying at home and enjoying the privacy. Mick had some date nights ready in places he knew Yn would like, and she got a list of things they could do together in the house. 

For the first time, she wasn’t really stressed about all the pap pics of her and Mason, and all the speculation happening. Mick wasn’t, so why would she? 

They chose to focus on their trip and both agreed on starting to soft launch for some time, before finally going public. People already knew, or suspected, and it would be better if they got used to the fact that this was their life. Everyone would want a peek into it, and there was a portion of their life that would inevitably be in the open, so what they could do was give this portion themselves, instead of trying to keep it a secret and letting the media run their headlines. 

Their plan would have worked if only they hadn’t got carried away at a party and kissed. In front of everyone. The thing is, sometimes people need clarity, which means until they didn’t announce their relationship the speculations would go on, and that same night tons of headlines were already up. 

And the news was: Yn and Mason were back together. 

― ⋆🪩 VOICEMAIL: We’re so close to reaching the ending aaaaaaa I'm posting earlier to make it up because the last chapter was supposed to come two days ago and I kinda messed up. I hope you guys like it! <3 Don't forget to reblog and leave me a comment, asks are always open and you're free to use the anon button if you're shy *mwah*

taglist: @sachaa-ff @ferrariloverr @mickslover @mishaandthebrits @iloveyou3000morgan @crimeshowjunkie @fdl305 @saintslewis @carojasmin2204 @chaoticevilbakugo @wondergirl101ks @shhhchriss @smiithys @f1kota @lunnnix @leclercsluv @baby-is-crying @karmabyfernando @crashingwavesofeuphoria @callsign-scully @v1naco @dearxcherry @p8dris @heelariously @peachiicherries @elliegrey2803 @he6rtshaker @therealcap @mehrmonga @thatgibbsygirl @the-depressed-fellow @cixrosie @darleneslane @buckybarnessweetheart @minkyungseokie @nichmeddar @fastcarsandshit

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#millie writes #ms47 #mick schumacher #mick schumacher x reader #mick schumacher imagine #mick schumacher social media au #mick schumacher x black!reader #f1 angst #social media au f1 #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 instagram au #f1 fanfic #f1 #f1 fandom #komh #mick schumacher instagram au #f1 instagram edit #f1 x black!reader

[vamossainz55]

❛ keep it. it looks better on you. ❜ + mick schumacher because i need him in my life rn i’m missing him so bad

Brother's Best Friend

a what are we drabble where mick is reader's brother's best friend. just fluff and teasing tw: hints of s*x/hooking up, apart from that just light and fun

a/n: aaa spirits! ilu, hope you enjoy and i feed ur mick brainrot <3 (idk how it got to 1k oops)

want to request a drabble? check gudelines here

“Esteban, I hate you!” You groan as you push yourself out of the pool, shirt and pants soaked and sticking to your body. You get on your feet, floor warm from the sun. Your brother only laughs, splashing water from the pool as if you weren’t already dripping.You roll your eyes, muttering dickhead as you attempt to wring the water out of your shirt, but it does little to help your situation. You’re so busy trying to dry yourself that you don’t even notice Mick coming up behind you, arm brushing against yours as he heads to the grill. The touch sends goosebumps over your skin.

“I thought you didn’t want to swim,” he says teasingly, setting the crate of beer on the grass. His tongue swipes over his bottom lip, trying his best to hide his devious smile. His eyes travel from the pool back to you and he doesn’t even need to say it for you to know what he was thinking. 

“You,” you say, pointing at him accusingly. “Don’t you dare,” he’s already coming close though, ignoring your pleas as his arm wraps around your waist to lift you up. “Mick! Put me down,” 

To your demise he does put you down, well, more like throws you, sending you into the pool once more. You come out just on time for Mick to jump in himself, soon splashing you again. You can’t help but laugh this time when Mick peeks out of the water, only his eyes and blond matted hair showing. He’s giving you his puppy dog-eyed apology as he comes close, although you have a sneaking suspicion he has an ulterior motive. 

“Stop it, you are not sorry.” You say splashing him again just as his hands reach to your sides, poking you under the water. You laugh, squirming as you push him away. “Mick, I swear to god!” You say, he only stops when you successfully push him away. 

“Hey- you were wet already.” Mick says defensively with his hands up. “Why didn’t you want to swim anyways?” You splash him back, almost sending daggers with your eyes. 

“She has a date in two hours, and didn't want to wet her hair and wash it.” Esteban laughs, too busy with splashing you that he doesn’t notice the change in Mick’s demeanor. You do though. 

“Oh,” Mick says, his smile suddenly going into a straight line. You look at him almost curiously, surprised by his reaction but you don’t entertain it too much. 

“You two are too annoying sometimes,” You murmur out, swimming over to the side of the pool again. This time you’re not by yourself though, Mick is next to you, pushing himself out of the water first. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were going somewhere.” He says apologetically, offering his hand out. You smile, rolling your eyes playfully before you’re taking his hand to get out. Of course Mick would feel bad, you wring your hair out as you stand by the pool still. His eyes steal a look over you, the clothes clinging onto you leaving little to one’s imagination. 

“Esteban started it, so it’s okay. Can I borrow some clothes to go home though?” 

You follow Mick upstairs, apologizing for the trail of wet footsteps you were leaving behind. He rummages through his closet, looking for something for you to borrow. It’s not the first time you’re in his room, but it’s the first time you’re there sober. 

“So, who are you going out with?” Mick asks. You look at him, towel wrapped around you. 

“Riley, a friend from university.” You answer just as he hands you one of his shirts. You thank him, setting it on the bed. Without hesitation you’re pulling your shirt off your body, taking the opportunity of Mick being turned back to the closet. 

You don’t expect your shirt to get stuck though, the wet fabric clinging onto you as you try to get it past your head. You’re struggling for a few seconds before you forfeit.  

“Mick? Can you help?” You ask defeatedly and you hear Mick shuffle to turn towards you. It’s quiet for a split second and you furrow your brows. “Mick?” 

The German boy is quick to splutter apologies, hands going to help you slip your shirt off. By the time you get it over your head you're met with Mick’s face, only inches away from yours. It’s not too different from the look he had given you nights ago. 

“I- thanks,” You murmur as you drop the soaked shirt to the ground. Mick nods, fingers gently brushing over your bare back. 

“About your date,” You interrupt him before he can finish. 

“It’s not a date Mick, Esteban was joking.” You say softly with a smile pulling at your lips. “Why do you care though?” You ask, “Thought we were just having fun this summer?” You both know it isn’t true, but you’ve never really discussed it either. You’re slipping on the scuderia ferrari shirt he had handed you, slipping off your soaked shorts. Mick doesn’t answer though, only chuckles as he swipes his bottom lip with his thumb. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow night?” Mick asks. 

“Yeah, if I can sneak out.” You say just as you put on the joggers he had also handed over to you. “Remind me to bring your clothes.” You murmur once you’re at the door of his room. 

He shakes his head, stepping towards you. He checks down the hallway and once he’s sure your brother is nowhere to be seen he steals a kiss. You’re surprised, cheeks going red. 

“Keep it, it looks better on you.” 

You both head down and you pop your head out quickly to the backyard, telling your brother goodbye and that you’d be seeing him later that night. 

To your surprise, Mick calls you once you get home, letting you know about the earful Esteban had given him as soon as you left. You decide to forego the shirt just for a little while.

#mick schumacher imagine #mick schumacher x you #mick schumacher #ms47 #niks drabble party

[mybrainismelted]

A.U.gust 2023 - Day 25, Vampire

@gallavichthings

It turns out that despite his promises otherwise, letting your drunk of an uncle/father turn you into a vampire does not actually cure bipolar.  

Sure, it makes the stretches of good days longer, but that means it also makes the bad ones longer too.  And guess what?  Vampires can't absorb mood-regulating drugs by swallowing them.

At the time, it seemed like a good idea - after all, this would let us fulfill our promise to be together forever.  And the first 50 years were amazing.  We were together, we were happy, we were in love.  That's about when we realized that I wasn't actually cured.  And a manic vampire is not a pretty sight.  I'm ashamed now to admit the amount of chaos I caused.  He stayed by me though, tried to keep some of my worst impulses under control.  And it only lasted about 2 years that time.  

Then of course the inevitable downswing.  Depression is a real bitch for a vampire.  Staying in your coffin (yes, it's cliche, but Mickey likes the symbolism of it) for a year is kinda gross.  But still, he stood by my side, forced me to drink some blood he brought home whenever he could, and stayed in our coffin with me every day.  Because he loved me.

But that was a long time ago.  My swings started happening more often, and lasting for longer.  When I was in between them, I could see the frustration and despair building in his eyes.  And this time.... this time by the time the downswing came, he was gone.

I'm not sure how many years I've been lying here now.... not able to move, not able to feed myself... I'm sure I am wasted to nothing, but I can't even get up and step into the sun to end my pain.  I think that maybe this time I will lie here forever.  Alone, unwanted, and unable to move.

                                   ***********************************

It's been so long since I've seen him.  I miss him every single day.  But those last few years of his mania, he didn't seem to notice if I was there or not.  It broke my heart, but I had to leave.  I had to figure out a way to keep living.   I don't know what his mental state is now.  Is he still manic?  Is he depressed and alone?  Maybe he is finally himself again and we can talk.  I dread what I will find, but still my feet carry me forward to the home we have shared for so many years.  Is he even still here?

"Ian?"  I call out, hoping desperately for an answer.  I move slowly through the rooms, noticing that everything is dusty and looks like it hasn't been disturbed for years.  My heart breaking, I head to the lowest level, knowing the chances are slim that I will find him there.

When I see our double-size coffin still in it's place, my heart flutters - alternating between hope and despair.  I moved forward, slowly lifting the lid, and fell to my knees when I saw the horrible sight within.

He is so thin.  Just skin and bones at this point.  Leathery and pale, his glorious red hair fragile and matted. He's not moving, doesn't seem to realize I'm here.  I'm not even sure if he's alive.

"Ian?"  I whisper, reaching out to stroke his hair.  At my touch, his eyes slowly fluttered open.  He looked at me like his eyes wouldn't focus, and then suddenly they snapped to my face, and a low "Mick?"  was mumbled. "I'm here my love.  You should know by now that I will always come back to you." I admitted.  "I'm sorry I was gone so long, I was trying to find you help." I reach in and slowly help him to sit, and pull a bottle of blood from my backpack where it's been kept warm.  "This will help, and when you are stronger I can tell you what I found."  Slowly I help him drink, seeing the slightest bit of colour return to his face.  He is still so weak, but I'm here now, and everything will be ok - I finally have the answer and know how to cure him.  We really can be together forever, and be happy.

#a.u.gust 2023 #fanfic #gallavich

[presidentbungus]

couldn’t post this yesterday . I have an excuse. anyway day 2: sniper finds a snake and demo feels fuck about it. 451 words shut up

“Tav. Tavvy. Psst."

Tavish's eye feels like it peels open--he hopes he's imagining the crusty little crack he hears. Stares straight up into the sun for a second, and feels like he's gonna throw up. Sniper's saying something he can't be arsed to parse. Where is he again?

"One-eye. Get off your lazy arse and c'mere."

"Hold on." Right; sits up a little onto his elbows and feels all his organs slosh around a little in his chest cavity, and looks down at a vomit-dusted deck chair haphazardly stuck in what could possibly be called sand, if you squinted. He's outside. The chair next to him's empty, 'cause the stupid bugger that was in it is somewhere across the desert calling increasingly embarrassing variations of his name. "What the bloody fucking hell is it, love?"

"Snake. Big one."

He hears somethin' that sounds like a wee baby's rattle, and he gets a very graphic vision of teeth in arms and crying and bleeding and having to suck the venom out of two very, very stupid little holes so he gets to his feet and walks over there. What he's not necessarily expecting to see is Sniper holding it right at the base of the neck, and its entire stupid body's just kind of wriggling around like a big long tapered sausage and he takes a few steps back, and he says: "Mick?"

"Ain't 'e cool? He's a bloke 'cause he's got the, uh, longer taper," and he points right to its stupid little tail and Tavish swears its teeth are just getting sharper by the second. "Engie told me that one."

"Mick picked up a snake because he's a bloody fucking moron and now he's dead is a terrible obituary. Put it down."

"He ain't gonna bite me--look, got him right by the base of the hea--"

Tavish is about to say 'don't fucking jinx it, you bloody-headed sewer rat', but it looks like the snake beats him to it, when it suddenly whips out into Mick's other arm, sinks its teeth right in, and whatever Mick says next is less of an expletive and more of a slightly amused 'woah there'. When the snake retracts there is a lot of blood oozing out of two stupid, stupid little holes, and Mick's grinning in some mixture of agony and mild bemusement, and he's still holding onto the snake, for god's fucking sakes.

"Now you got the bloody poison!" He wishes this is not a line he says as often as he does. "Look what you fuckin' did! Drop the snake!"

Sniper teeters for a second, and then looks up. "It’s venom, love. I think I'm gonna name 'im Ralph."

"I'm breaking up with you."

#tf2 demoman #tf2 sniper #tf2 #daily writing #bungus snippets

[safetycar-restart]

Ok so subby boyfriend driver comes back from a very exhausting gp weekend that you couldn’t attend. The race could have been very exhausting (maybe Singapore) and on top of that the team gave your boyfriend the biggest master class there is. So he is feeling very down and exhausted and just wants to fall in your arms and forget the weekend ever happened.

You decide to treat your boy to the nicest and softest extend possible. You put him in his/your comfiest clothes and snuggled him in loads of blankets and give him a nice back massage that turns into a full body massage. Your sub is so relaxed that he can’t tell his left from his right. After he is so close to sun space from massages alone you also give him a nice, slow and soft hand/blow job and praise him so much.

Also the team is scared for when you attend a gp weekend next… bc they know it’s their fault your boyfriend is exhausted and you will fight for his rights

-🐞

Ooo I love this idea. To me this screams Charles, Mick or Marcus? I'm gonna write Mick, but you can always ask me for one of the other two as well and I will happily write more :))

You weren't at the race, but you watched it and instantly you knew that Mick was going to be very upset when he got home.

Usually Mick likes to talk to you about his race? Even if you don't fully understand everything he's saying because he rattles off about all sorts of numbers and statistics, but you don't need to. You just need to listen. Mick loves having a safe space to decompress after a race.

If you can't be at the race weekend, then he'll still want to talk about the race with you when he gets back to you. Maybe he even makes a list of points on his phone to talk to you about? Personally, you have no idea how speaking to you even days later could help, but he seems to really look forward to it and you're always happy to listen to him.

But this time, he doesn't say a thing? You ask him if he wants to talk about his race when he gets back, because he always does. But this time he just shakes his head and heads to the shower.

You go after him of course, because something is obviously very wrong. You ask him if you can join him in the shower, and you honestly think that he's going to say no, but then he actually just whines and mumbles, "please."

You know what he needs then, and you quickly undress before joining him in the shower. You wash him slowly, making sure to let kiss all the skin you can. You can see how he's relaxing, slowly coming back to himself.

Originally you weren't going to give him a massage, you just wanted to get him into your arms as soon as possible. But then you saw how tense he was when you washed him, and you changed your mind.

You just wanted him to end up soft and safe in your arms, but you could tell he wasn't okay enough for that yet.

Maybe you let him lay naked for his massage? Just dry him in a towel and then lay him down on the bed. He lets out little whines and huffs as you massage him, body practically melting into the bed.

You tell him to turn over, thinking that you can massage his arms and maybe give him some kisses. But then you see the slightly glazed over expression in his eyes and you realise he's close to subspace. It's not what you expected, but clearly he was more stressed you realised.

Normally he tells you if he's close to subspace, if he thought that he might slip. So he clearly didnt realise how close he was.

But that's okay. He's your sub, your good boy. If he needs to drift into subspace to feel better, then you're more than happy to look after him.

He has a soft smile as he stares up at you, not worried at all about being so close to subspace. He knows you'll look after him.

It's so easy to just slip further down and end up between his thighs, taking his cock into your mouth for a slow blow job. Mick makes the sweetest sounds, crying out and whining. You pull off and tell him that he can cum any time he wants, that his only job is to feel good and let you play with him.

He can do that, he can absolutely do that.

He cries after he cums, tears running down his cheeks and whining until you quickly shuffle up the bed and let him hide in your arms.

He opens up then, tears still running down his cheeks. He speaks against your chest, telling you about his race and why he was so upset. You hold him tight, running your hands along his back to try and offer some comfort.

You only move again once he finishes talking. You can tell he's done because he takes a deep breath and settles in your arms, more relaxed than he's been the entire night.

You get him into some comfy clothes then, knowing that he loves feeling the soft fabric against his skin.

The next morning, he has a proper debrief with you, and thanks you taking such good care of him.

#sub!mick #nsfw. #ms #gn!reader #soft soft vibes #🐞

[ladyshandioftheendless]

~The Beginning of a New Life~

Y'all know I gotta write something for Spooky Day! It's now after midnight but I hope you all still enjoy it! It's a bit of an origin story of how Mick became a vampire, in case you're curious to know~ Have fun reading!

~Shandi

Robert Alan Deal was at the end of his rope. His relationship was falling apart. His condition was worsening. He was in constant pain. He started losing himself in alcohol and drugs. He hated every second of being alive.

He could only count on Alice.

Alice understood him.

Alice was his only friend.

On a night when Robert felt his lowest, Alice invited him to his club. Of course he accepted.

He always felt that the Hollywood Vampires club was his home away from home. Alice greeted him at the entrance and took him up to his private lounge. He fell back on the couch and exhaled. Alice poured him a glass of brandy and handed it to him. “Another rough night, I take it?”

“Isn’t it always?” He took the glass and downed the entire thing, holding up for more. “She went out somewhere..I dunno where. I dunno when she’ll even be back, and at this point I don’t even care. Went to the doctor a few days ago..they’re gonna have to operate cause my condition’s so bad. I might be stuck in a wheelchair for months. She’s pissed off cause she doesn’t wanna be stuck takin’ care of me. Like this shit is my fault. I dunno what’s gonna happen. I’m kinda scared and I don’t wanna deal with it. What choice do I have though..?”

“After hearing all that, I think ‘rough’ might be an understatement.” Alice took the glass and filled it up again. “I’m sorry you have to go through all of this. You don’t deserve it.”

“I hate to ask but..would you mind if I…stayed with you while I recover..?”

“I’ve never turned you down before, I’m not about to start now.”

“I..appreciate it..”

“It’s no trouble at all.” Alice handed Robert’s refilled glass back to him and sat down next to him. “When is this going to happen?”

“In a few days.”

“Then there’s still time.”

“Time for what?”

“Robert, you and I have been friends for a long time. Your friendship has meant a lot to me these past few years. I don’t..have many friends.”

Robert snorted. “Unpopular? You? I find that hard to believe.”

“Of course you do, and so does everyone else. No one knows the truth about me.”

“Which is?”

“The only time you’ve seen me is at night. Doesn’t that tell you anything?”

Robert shrugged. “It’s not that out of the ordinary, is it? I mean..you run a nightclub. Stands to reason you’d be around only during the night.”

“You’ve never come to see me during the day?”

“A few times in the past, yeah. But your people told me that you were never around during the day, so I stopped coming.”

“And that didn’t strike you as odd?”

“Figured you were off doing shows with those friends of yours. What’re their names again? Johnny and Joe?”

“We are together, yes but we don’t perform. We rest during the day. Always. The sun is..dangerous for us.”

“Alice…dude, you’re freaking me out. What you’re tellin’ me sounds like..”

“Sounds like what?”

“Sounds like you’re sayin’..you’re a vampire..”

“I’m glad you figured it out so soon. I thought I was going to have to draw pictures next.”

“H-how long..?”

“Get outta here! Vampires aren’t fuckin’ real! You’ve lost it!”

“If you need proof, I’ll give it to you.” Alice pulled Robert up from the couch and brought him to a mirror. Robert had a reflection. Alice didn’t. “There it is. I trust that you still believe your own eyes.”

“Centuries? I’ve lost count how many.”

“…..”

“Robert. Ever since you began coming here, I felt you belonged. I have watched you. I have seen your life. I have seen your pain. I have seen your despair.”

Robert didn’t reply. He could do nothing but stare down at the floor. His mind raced. Would knowing what Alice is change everything between them? “We’re…still friends aren’t we..?”

“We are, and I want to help you.”

“Help me how..?”

“By making you like me.”

“A-a vampire..? Me..?”

“Why not?”

“Alice..look at me. I can’t–”

“Robert. You’ll be dead. The dead feel no pain.”

Alice had a point. If he was ‘dead’ then he could disappear. His ‘girlfriend’ couldn’t keep hurting him. His condition would be gone. He wouldn’t need to be operated on. He didn’t have to be helpless in a wheelchair. He only had to say goodbye to the daylight. And feed on human blood to survive. Something he was certain Alice could teach him. In this case the pros far outweighed the cons. “I'm so tired of everything.. I..I want to stop hurting..”

“I know you do. I want that as well. Will you accept the gift I offer?”

“Yes.”

“That's what I hoped you’d say.”

Robert began to feel dizzy. He dropped his glass, spilling what was left in it on the carpet. “F-fuck..what’s happening..?”

“Forgive me..but I gave you a little something to try to ease the stress.”

“You drugged me?!”

“You’ll be alright. Its effects will not last long.” Alice took Robert’s arm and pulled him closer, pushing up the sleeve to reveal his wrist. “Your last moments will be hell. It was given to you to ease the pain. Trust me..”

Even through his blurry vision, Robert watched Alice’s fangs extend. He felt the dull pain of his wrist being bitten into. He felt his life slowly drain away. When Alice released him, he collapsed onto the couch. He could barely see. He could no longer feel. Alice’s voice was a muted whisper next to his ear. “Robert..you will soon be dead. I have nearly drained you completely. I ask again. Will you accept my gift? Or will you accept your death?”

“Please…save me..”

“Whatever you wish.”

Alice used a knife to cut a gash in his wrist and held it close to Robert’s mouth. “You need to drink. My blood will help you to survive.” Robert was hesitant at first, but it was Alice. He should know that his closest friend would never lead him astray. He took Alice’s wrist and held it close, letting the blood trickle down his throat. So strange. He couldn’t taste anything. Maybe that was a blessing. The blood pools and starts to burn, making him grip his stomach. “Is it..supposed to do this..?”

“Yes. The pain will be brief, I promise you.”

He believed, but that didn’t make it hurt any less. Now it felt like the blood was setting him on fire. Was this what it felt like to die? The burning was stealing the air in his lungs. As he struggled to breathe, Alice held his hand tightly. “Not much longer.” The last words he heard before his world went black.

“Awaken.”

When Robert opened his eyes, they glowed crimson, reflecting the dim light. He sat up, surprised that he didn’t feel any pain. In fact, he felt nothing. His skin was cold. His heart wasn’t beating. He was dead. “Has..it happened..?”

Alice smiled. “It has. You will never feel pain again.”

“But I’ll need blood.”

“We’ll take care of that. As your Sire, it's my job to look after you until you can be independent.”

“Sire?”

“The one who made you.”

“Oh..right. And what about–?”

“Robert Deal is dead. Your old life is gone. We will change everything. Your clothes. Your name.”

“I don’t suppose I can borrow some clothes from you.”

“That can be arranged~ We’ll have your hair color changed as well. I think you would do well with black hair~”

“Hah. Never thought about it, but it could be a nice change of pace.”

“Any ideas for a name?”

“I had another name when I played guitar on stage. Mick Mars.”

“Perfect~ That will be your name from now on~”

“Guess I’ll be stayin’ here after all.”

“Indeed, my friend~ Welcome to the Hollywood Vampires~”

~END~

#MICKCENTRIC #with a special guest~ #please enjoy! #Vampy Sixx~

[sofiiel]

There & Back Again | Ch. 22

Bad to Worse

↰ ᴘʀᴇᴠɪᴏᴜꜱ | ᴛᴀʙʟᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛꜱ | ɴᴇxᴛ ↱

The sun began to rise and the boys of Corroded Coffin were sound asleep in the van, each leaning against their posts at the windows. All but Eddie that is, pulled back into the 7eleven parking lot he leaned against the steering wheel glaring into the empty alleyway.

With heavy tired eyelids, Eddie tried his best to stay awake, guzzling down his fourth cup of the strongest coffee the convenience store had to offer. "It tastes like crap." Eddie thought, reaching for the now cold coffee and taking another long sip.

Leaning his forehead to the wheel, he sighed and let his body relax for a moment. "What's happened to you now." He thought.

"Did you sleep?" Scott asked, waking from the front seat. Eddie shook his head, gazing down at his shoes. "I think... I think we should go to the police." Eddie said, a hand around his stomach as it squirmed from the cold, bitter coffee. 

"You ok?" Scott asked. 

"Yeah, it's just...way too much coffee." Eddie groaned, rubbing his stomach. The twisting inside turned into a bubble, and Eddie quickly hopped out of the van, rushing towards the nearby trashcan. His body purged the bitter liquid out of his stomach.

Scott shook his head and watched his friend from the van, "how's he doing?" Jeff asked. "Not good." Scott murmured.

"Dude, he's puking." Jeff pointed out. "Yeah Sherlock," Scott sighed shaking his head, "too much Coffee, probably a bit of nerves too." he added.

Eddie wiped his mouth and stood up, his eyes falling on a black car across the street. As Eddie stared at it, he couldn't shake the bad hair-raising feeling. Taking one last look at the car, Eddie jogged to the Van.

Closing the door, Eddie murmured, "That car is giving me the creeps."

"You're just paranoid." Jeff reasoned.  "No, it feels like someone is in there watching." Scott agreed.

"That creepy thing still there?" Asked Gareth. "How long has it been parked there?" Eddie asked. "About three or four hours. I went to take a leak and some guy was snapping pictures of the area." Gareth said.

Eddie started the van, "let's move somewhere else, I don't like the looks of that car." he said.

Meanwhile, in the abandoned butcher building, Myrtle's eyes fluttered open, "wakey, wakey." Axel's voice chimed. "Kali said to let her sleep." Mick stated flatly. "But it's been hours, girls get weird when they get hungry." Axel muttered, rolling his eyes, "last thing we need is for her to wake up raging at us." He added, setting a hot styrofoam bowl of noodles where Myrtle had her head resting.

"What?" Myrtle questioned, rubbing her eyes. 

"Breakfast, sleeping beauty." Axel lulled. Myrtle looked down at the bowl and raised a brow. "Instant noodles." she murmured. Looking up at Axel and then to Mick. Mick hid her eyes with her hands, "You're a moron." she murmured.

"Look, beggars can't be choosers, we need another store run." Axel shrugged, passing Myrtle a baggie filled with a plastic fork and folded napkin, the word of thing you get at some fast food places.

Myrtle could feel the acidic burn of her empty stomach and took the packet willingly. "Thank you." She said, tearing it open and digging into the noodles. Her face scrunched together as the first bite.

"Yeah, it might be about a few months stale," Axel said.

Myrtle sighed but continued to eat.

The office door flew open and Myrtle instantly jumped. Kali arched a brow, "what are you afraid of everything?" She questioned. Myrtle sank into her chair, "not everything, you did stick a knife in my face." Myrtle said.

Kali gave a smooth smirk, "well, technically it was under your face." Axel hummed, taking a seat.

"Does it matter?" Myrtle asked. Kali walked up to Myrtle and in a swift movement snatched up her arm. "Ow hey!" Myrtle cried out as her wrist was flipped over. "Nothing..." Kali exhaled, her eyes searching Myrtle's skin.

Kali moved her face closer, "maybe it's faded." she thought, but there were no hints of a mark. Dropping Myrtle's arm, Kali glared at her. 

"What are you then?" she asked.

Myrtle sat baffled, "um...what?" she asked. "What are you, if you are not from the lab. Why do you feel like -" Kali stopped herself, took a breath in, and exhaled. "Nevermind." She sighed.

"So she's clear then?" Mick asked. "For now, I guess so. But I don't want to send her off just yet." Kali replied, looking Myrtle up and down thoughtfully, "You don't even know what you have in you." Kali murmured to Myrtle.

"In me?" Myrtle side glanced, "this whole group is nuts." she thought.

"So can we keep her?" Axel asked. Kali crossed her arms, "I don't know Axel. A pet is a big responsibility, are you gonna walk her, feed her, and water her?" Kali asked sarcastically.

"Don't forget you have to clean up her messes." Mick hummed.

Myrtle frowned and quietly ate her noodles. "I'm still here, you know," she grumbled between bites.

Kali's head snapped up and looked about, "where is Funshine?" she asked quickly. Mick pointed over her shoulder to the back entrance, "He went on another patrol, said he heard a car out back." Mick said.

"Alone?" Kali asked, to which Axel shrugged, "like he can't handle himself? Nobody comes out here." He said.

No sooner had the word left Axel's mouth can the screeching of tires outside the backdoor. The three of them glanced at each other in panic and rushed out.

Myrtle sat stock still as she looked around, "they just left me?" She asked herself, eying the front door. Hopping up and knocking back her chair and noodles, Myrtle made a mad dash for the front door, her feet carrying down the steps and up the alley.

Back in Hawkins, Amy sat in the basement of the Creel House looking through another box of files she'd come across in the office at the Lab. "These are all useless." She murmured. Only able to knick the files from the upper levels, Amy hadn't expected to find much.

With her motivation cut, Amy sat in the quiet, her eyes scanning over the basement. She had to admit she was bored now in the days she spent alone. Having left her uncle's Wing for the past three years to hunt for her sister, she'd been on her own.

Amy laughed to herself, "I guess she reminds me of you" she spoke quietly to her sister.

With a sigh, Amy got to her feet, "So let's make sure I find some new information for us." She said. "Right after some exploring." Amy murmured, making her way up the basement stairs and into the Creel House proper.

The door took the jiggling but eventually, it popped open, kicking up a wave of dust.

"Ugh..." Amy groaned, swatting the air in front of her clear.

"Whoa, this place had a lot of webs," Amy murmured, looking about. A beat-up convertible pulled up in front of the old mansion, hearing the engine, Amy ducked and sat against the hallway wall. "Relax, who'd be coming here anyway?" Amy thought to herself, "alright, so maybe realtors. Shit..." she whispered, listening intently.

Outside, Angel stood outside the long worn walkway to the old Mansion, A cold expression on his face as he watched the house. "So I'm here." he thought to the voice in the back of his head. "Why? Why the fuck did you want me back here?" He asked it, thoughts seething.

Oh, how he loathed this building, He'd wished for years that the city would decide to knock it down. No one seemed to understand the rot and taint it contained was far worse than anything that could naturally condemn a home.

He had left four years ago, and he'd hoped he'd never look at it again. Even going as far as dodging the block it was built on.

"Enter" the voice in his head growled, frustrated with Angel's attitude. Angel rolled his eyes, "I said I don't take orders. I'm beyond that now, corpse." His thoughts growled. Regardless, Angel started the walk to the door.

Reaching the door, Angel tried the knob, "locked again." He muttered, "do you want to or should I do all the work?" Angel asked the voice. Without a word from his inner annoyance, the door knob slowly turned. "Thank you for being useful. For once." Angel murmured. 

"I do not take orders either." the voice said.

Angel lifted his head and prepared to meet whoever waited on the other side of the stained-glass door. 

Amy looked up at the guy before her, trying to mask her confusion. "It's just some guy." she thought to herself. Meanwhile, his gaze on her seemed void, "so this is why...." Angle thought. He could feel the unique weight in the air around the girl in the doorway.

"What do you want?" Amy asked, breaking the lingering silence, "who the hell are you?" she asked.

"I could ask you the same thing, this house hasn't been lived in for well over twenty years," Angel said dryly. He could feel his skin crawl, and something starved inside of him started to wake. Just looking at her, he could tell she found him worrying.

"Yeah, well not anymore, so beat it." Amy said quickly, trying to slam the door. Angel slipped his foot in the way, and didn't so much as flinch. Amy looked up at him in a panic as he offered an unsettling smile, she could tell it was forced as his eyes glinted like a knife.

"You don't have to be like that, I'm Angel.  You see, I'm supposed to be me-"

Amy gasped and swung open the door, "Your Angel?" She asked, looking him up and down. Angel squinted down at her, "You...know me?" he asked. Amy rolled her eyes and looked him over one more time. "You kissed my friend without asking, you little shit." Amy growled.

Tilting her head, she shook it as if puzzled, "She said you were pretty.... I don't see it." Amy murmured.

A new smile inched across Angel's face, "You know the little fairy?" Angel asked. His eyes flickered above Amy, glancing over her into the mansion. "Is this where she hangs out? Never would have thought that." He said.

"Not exactly no, not in here, up here...." Amy said with a shrug.

Angel peered at Amy, trying to mask the troubled grimace rising to the surface of his face, "so you're a friend of hers?" He asked, slowly stepping inside the house. Amy nodded,  "why are you looking at me like that?" Amy asked carefully, taking a step back from Angel at the ominous stare.

He looked her over before his gaze shifted, Amy followed his eyes as Angel shifted his gaze to a dusty forgotten vase on a small table in the hallway. Narrowing his eyes slightly as the vase shattered into a powdery substance.

Amy jumped, watching the dust settle around the small heap of vase. "Holy shit." She breathed, ready to defend herself as she mentally pictured the basement for a quick getaway. 

Angel's voice lent a tone like that of dry ice, "relax. Luckily for you - I can't touch you." He hummed with bored eyes. Amy's eyes narrowed in a glare, "and why's that, who and what are you?" she asked in a hiss.

"So I am assuming you're not from the pit." Angel murmured, looking away. "The pit?" Amy asked. Angel snatched up her arm and checked her wrist. "No, mark." he sighed. "So you're a real one, and not a synthetic." Angel whispered.

Amy snatched her arms free, "ugh, freak - stop it." she ordered, holding her ground.

Angel tilted his head and closed the distance between them, "I've seen your eyes before." he said. "I'm certain," Angel said.

Amy tore her eyes away from Angel at the sound of another car stopping outside. After hearing a door slam, Angel too turned to listen. The two glanced at each other and flocked to the window. It was hard to see through the slots of the poorly boarded windows, as the glass was dirty.

"Who's that?" Amy asked. 

Angel glared at the black car and the man headed up the walkway in a generic black suit. "Nothing good." Angel murmured, carefully backing away from the window. "We need to hide." Angel said.

"Why, we can take him, it's just one guy?" Amy scoffed. "You don't understand." Angel said calmly, snatching Amy's arm, he led her towards the basement. "Hey!" she shouted.

"Shut up, he'll hear," Angel whispered with bite.

In the cabin near the lake, Rick fidgeted while hastily packing a bag. "Goddammit, kid, you sure as hell know how to pick 'em don't you." He muttered under his breath. The curtains and blinds were drawn tight, hearing noises outside his home, Rick paused. His hand lingering over the firearm on his hip.

Rick quietly zipped up his bag and took it in hand, "it's better not to go investigate." He thought, rushing to the guest room. Rick removed the mattress and Box spring of the full-size bed, revealing a secret hatch underneath, bordered by the metal bed frame.

Stepping over the bed frame, Rick pulled a key out of his pocket and unlocked the door in the floor. After climbing in, he tugged at the mattress to cover it up and shut the door. It wouldn't buy him much time should someone bust in, but it would buy him enough.

With a flashlight, Rick navigated the dark narrow tunnel, fashioned something like a small culvert pipe. Rick reached down into his pocket and pulled out a crumpled piece of note paper. On it was scrawled the hardly legible morse code message.

"The Storm is turning over the Pitts. The Fallen is in the castle. A Lure has been cast." 

"Damn it," Rick said, heaving a sigh. "How'd these kids get tied up with each other...the odds." He grumbled.

As Myrtle made a run for it, she could hear a great commotion back at the odd gang's hideout, gunfire soon followed. Myrtle's legs came to a slow stop. Eyes shut tight, she sighed, "it was stupid to help out the first time, it's why you're in this mess..." She told herself.

But as the noise grew louder, she found she couldn't ignore it. "I'm gonna regret this." she whispered, turning around and heading back.

"Who the hell are these people?" Mick asked, hiding behind a row of dumpsters with a mildly wounded Funshine. Axel fired his pistol until the clip was empty. "I'm out." He said, ducking low with the others. "Kal?" He asked turning to Kali, "I've got a fire around the dumpers, it will buy us some time but..." Kali glanced at the solid wall behind them, they were pinned in.

"These aren't lab personnel," Kali whispered as she looked at her crew with concern. "I don't know who they are, but they are hard to manipulate," she confessed.

"Your illusions?" Mick asked, "it is taking a lot more work to fool their minds." Kali murmured.

Myrtle reached the back of the building, huffing and puffing quietly, before her, she saw three people in tactical gear standing before three dumpsters. They seemed baffled, looking up, though Myrtle couldn't see a thing.

Scattered around them, at least five other men in matching gear lay dead or wounded on the ground. Myrtle could feel her heart racing. Glancing down the driveway, a familiar black car and a large white van were parked.

Clenching her fists, Myrtle stepped forward, "Hey! What are you swat or something?" Myrtle asked.

Kali's ears perked at the sound of her voice, "Myrtle?" she mouthed to her friends. "Great, what's the kid going to do, she doesn't stand a chance." Mick whispered.

The three men turned to face Myrtle, their gear was intimidating and held no signs of who they worked for. But it was the fact that everything was covered, no skin could be seen beneath their clothing, even on their face. 

The men glanced at each other as if surprised, and one slowly lifted a square device, a red laser in a mesh pattern traced Myrtle from head to toe at a distance. It reminded her of the metal detector wands used at the plant. The device started to deep wildly and then the moment a tiny green light flashed on its side, the Men aimed their weapons.

Myrtle tossed her hands in the air, "whoa wait...." she called, backing away. "I just came to see what all the commotion was about," said Myrtle, taking a discrete glance toward the Dumpsters. She could spot Kali and her crew sneaking out from behind the large trash bins while the odd team had their backs turned.

The lights on the white van flashed on and Myrtle could see it coming towards her from the side view of her eyes. "Shit." she thought, she wouldn't be able to move fast enough. 

Rushing out, Kali grabbed Myrtle's hand, but realized it was a mistake, and both girls were pulled into the van as its door opened. 

"Kali!" Mick cried out, but she couldn't abandon Funshine he was using her to stand, "run!" Kali shouted as the door slammed shut, and the van took off backward out of the driveway.

"Hurry to the van." Axel said, ushering Mick and Funshine back towards the building, if they were fast enough they could reach their own van and make chase.

The boys of Corroded Coffin loitered outside a Burger King parking lot. Gareth, Jeff and Scott stood near the van watching Eddie from a distance while he paced about in circles. "Maybe we should just let him go to the police." Jeff murmured.

"No way, look at us. A bunch of guys out of town with one girl to see a metal concert? They'd eat Eddie alive, not only him, either. The rest of us too." Gareth reasoned.

"Well, we aren't going to find here just looking on our own at this rate." Jeff sighed.

Eddie stood with his hands on his hips as he gazed off absently into the city. Watching the cars as they passed, looking at the faces of pedestrians, hoping to spot Myrtle somewhere.

He bit his lip, the anger toward himself slowly growing.

Screeching tires came whirling around the corner. Eddie watched wide-eyed as two different white vans chases each other. The first had its windows tinted. A deep feeling of dread filled Eddie's core as he spotted the strange black car make chase as well.

Eddie ran for the boys, "get in, we're going after them." Eddie said.

"Why?" Scott asked, "just a feeling, come on!" Eddie barked. The boys, although confused, jumped in the van as they were told.

In the giant blur of chaos Myrtle could see the Green van from the window, pressing her hands to the window she shouted, "Eddie! Guys!" she knew it would be of no use, but she couldn't stop herself either as the tears welled into her eyes.

The hyperventilating began, and breathing hurt as her lungs clenched and her throat tightened. Myrtle's body trembled as the reality of what was going on started to sink in.

A number of different horrors entered her mind as she tried to think of what was to happen next.

One after another, tears started to fall and the sky above them darkened greatly.

Kali reached out and took Myrtle's arm, "did you see your friends?" she asked her. Myrtle couldn't answer. "Hey, it will be alright," Kali called, pulling Myrtle close to her, she cast a glare at the man in the backseat with them. He held a gun, while a woman pulled out a chunky metal collar.

"What is that?" Kali asked. Myrtle was quickly snatched away from her. She tried to struggle as the woman clamped the heavy neck brace around her neck. "No! no! get it off me!" Myrtle shrieked, and the thick gray clouds above rumbled. 

A crack broke the sky and rain fell in a hard curtain.

Kali looked out the window and then back to Myrtle, who was now hysterical.

The neck brace beeped rapidly and Myrtle released a cry of pain. Shocks dug deep into her spin, the quick intervals of pain made her dizzy and she lost feeling in her body. Kali watched in horror as Myrtle fell limp to the ground. Blood trickling out of her nostrils.

"Wh-what did you do to her!" Kali cried out, rushing to hover over Myrtle protectively. "Hey...hey!" Kali called shaking Myrtle lightly. Her eyes were open, but Myrtle gazed into nothing. "If you behave, no further harm will come to any of you, it's going to be a short ride." the woman said firmly.

Kali collected Myrtle in her arms and crawled to the back of the van, creating any distance she could between the two of them and the two oddly dressed people before them.

Out the window behind them, Two vans tailed after them.  Mick at the wheel, Axel leaned out of the passenger window with a nail gun. Closing one eye, he took aim at the tires of the kidnapper's van and fired.

"Holy shit! They're shooting at them!" Jeff shouted.

"Yeah, but that's not bullets," Scott said from his place between the front seats, squinting to see better. "It's a nail gun, he's going for the tires." Eddie explained, but what his eyes were more focused on as they followed was the sky.

A strange light show flickered in them, like lightning shooting across the sky rather than hitting the ground. While the rain stopped, the turmoil in the clouds remained. And in the back of Eddie's mind, he remembered the night it thundered in the distance as he held a weeping Myrtle in his arms.

A shiver ran down Eddie's spine.

"What are you thinking?" Scott asked him.

"These guys know where she is. think about it, they peeled out in the same area as Myrtle went missing." Eddie murmured. 

"That's insane, we should just go to the cops." said Gareth.

"And if I'm right, and she's in one of these vans, and we go back now - she could vanish off the face of the earth. Human traffickers or something." Eddie reasoned.

The boys glanced at each other nervously. "Even if that's true, what are we gonna do against people like that?" Jeff asked.

"Hell if I know." Eddie whispered.

↰ ᴘʀᴇᴠɪᴏᴜꜱ | ᴛᴀʙʟᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛꜱ | ɴᴇxᴛ ↱

A/n: just popping in to offer snacks and hugs to everyone who's still with us in this journey.

#eddie munson x original character #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x oc #This story is not Arachnophobia friendly #longfic #EpicLength #Eddie Munson/Original Female Character(s) #eddie munson x black!oc #eddie munson x fem!oc #eddie munson tolkien fanfic #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things 010

[acrosstobear]

ok @ ferrari i know Mick and Callum are there... together... now where are the pics of Callum looking at Mick like he’s the sun 🔪😤🔪😤🔪

#f1 #formula 1 #mick schumacher #callum ilott #ferrari #ferrari driver academy #haas #schulott #i would take my shipping glasses off to make this post but #but what’s the point he does look at mick like he’s the sun #THEY LOVE EACH OTHER AND I NEED PHOTOGRAPHIC EVIDENCE

[iliveiloveiwrite]

Love Me Now, Love Me Always // F.W.

Summary: Five times Fred has been in love with you, and the one time he tells you.

A/N: This is my entry for @kalimagik‘s magical winter writing challenge. My prompts were friends to lovers and my other is in bold in the text. I hope you like!!

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Fem!Reader

Warnings: pining, light angst

Word count: 3k

One:

It was in the height of summer when Fred Weasley came to the realisation that he was in love with you.

It was the height of summer; temperatures teetering on the edge of the twenties – no mean feat for a British summer. It had been dreadfully humid; to the point where Fred was pulling his shirt away from his torso in a futile effort to keep the sweat from soaking through the thin material.

Cold drinks and ice creams were on the menu the day that Fred realised he was in love with you. From fairytales and stories, Fred wondered whether he would feel this grand moment in which he knew he had found the one he wanted to love for the rest of his life. His own mother had regaled him stories when he was a young boy about witches and wizards like themselves who had found their one true love; of brave princes who fought magical beasts to save the princess and ask for her hand. He had heard them all from being a youngster.

However, for Fred, it had been a smile and a laugh.

You had spent the majority of the summer with Fred at the Burrow. Your family travelling abroad to see distant relatives in Europe, and you had chosen not to go with them; instead, asking Molly Weasley whether she would mind you staying with the Weasley family until school started in September. Molly had accepted; she would never leave one of her children’s friend out in the cold.

It had been weeks of laughter and mischief filled smiles. Fred felt certain that he had not felt this happy in a long time; the attention he so happily soaked from you bringing colour to his cheeks.

A smile and a laugh; that was all it took for Fred’s heart to skip a beat and his mind to come to terms with the knowledge that over the weeks you had been staying with his family, Fred had been falling deeply and irrevocably in love with you.

The realisation knocked him breathless as he continued to listen to your laughter; your reaction from a story told by Ron. The words faded to white noise as he focused his entire attention on you; your smile, your laugh, the way your eyes lit up under the summer evening sun. His eyes poured over every inch of you and he simply couldn’t help but question whether he had always been in love with you or whether this was a new development in your long friendship.

Tossing your hair over your shoulder, flashing a warm smile in Fred’s direction before returning your attention to Ron, Fred thinks that no, he’s always been in love with you.

Then and there, he’s more than certain that he always will.

Two:

“Are you trying to get yourself killed or expelled, is that it?” You demand, hands firmly on your hips as you glare at the redhead.

Fred has the decency to look somewhat ashamed of himself as he avoids your gaze, looking absolutely anywhere else in the room than at you and the disappointed look on your face.

“The prize money…” He trails off, making a dismissive gesture with his hand; wanting to explain it further but not able to find the right words.

Your eyes soften at his explanation, understanding dawning across your face. “Fred,” You whisper, “This isn’t the way to go about it.”

“Then what would you suggest?” He snaps, instantly hating the acid behind his words as he watches the hurt bloom in your eyes.

You throw out your hands in exasperation, “I don’t know! A bank loan or something. We can figure it out but entering into a competition that risks your life is not the way to go about it.”

Fred remains silent; feeling thoroughly put in his place. You cross your arms; trying not to let the hurt you feel so deep inside show across your face as you ask, “Why didn’t you tell me you were doing such a thing?”

He opens his mouth to reply, but quickly shuts it. He doesn’t know what to say; he doesn’t know how to tell you about his plans for the future, about how he sees you by his side through it all. He hasn’t the foggiest on how to explain his deepest desires, so he settles for silence for now.

You hold a hand to your stomach as your other reaches up to only juts contain the sob that bursts free. “I was so worried. If your name was pulled out of that cup, Fred Weasley, I don’t know what I would do.”

Something in Fred softens; his heart yearns to take you into his arms, to kiss you senseless as he reassures you he would never do something so utterly reckless again. But he doesn’t do that. Instead, he reaches out for you, a hand beckoning for you to join him on the hospital bed.

You scramble to him, settling next to him on the bed, automatically resting your head on his shoulder and grabbing his hand. He squeezes your hand; silently comforting you as he dares to press a kiss to the top of your head.

A friendship this old, there were very few boundaries. A friendship this old, he was bound to have feelings for you. The realisation from the past summer becoming all too clear as he takes in the tension coiling your body tightly, as the kiss he presses to the top of your head does very little to relax to the tightly bound muscles.

Truthfully, he adores you. He would never utter the words to anyone else but you for the fear of having the mick taken out of him, but he does. He adores you entirely, and to see you almost broken at the idea of him possibly entering such a competition – it stirred something in him. A desire to never put you through something like this again.

He presses two more kisses to the top of your head, still worried about the tension tightening your body. “Love,” Fred starts; voice low so other students can’t listen in, “I need you to know, I have absolutely no plans on leaving you without telling you.”

You sniffle, nuzzling your face into his shoulder. “Good,” You whisper, “Because you definitely do not have my permission to go anywhere, Weasley.”

Fred chuckles, tugging you closer, ignoring the rapid beating of his heart as you cuddle closer to him. He drops one more kiss to your head before murmuring, “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Three:

Eyes wide, you glance around the brightly coloured shop. For anyone else, the orange and purple design would be classed as gaudy, but for the Weasley twins, this was nothing short of an explosion of their personalities.

Fred follows you like a lost puppy; hands fidgeting at his sides as he clenches them into fists and then relaxes them once more. A nervous habit, you realise. He waits patiently for your thoughts as your eyes continue to dance around the shop. Repressing a grin, you turn your attention to Fred. His eyes are bright with questions already waiting, poised on his lips as he tries his best not to bombard you and beg for your opinion.

Spinning in your spot, you release a happy laugh, all the while exclaiming, “Fred, this is wonderful.”

“You think?” He asks, a note on insecurity in his tone.

You grin, nodding your head, “All of this, Fred, is wonderful. It’s going to be a hit, so many are going to love it.”

It almost overwhelms him then. His feelings for you. They rise from his gut; almost cutting off his air as the words he has wanted to say since that fateful summer threaten to choke him. He gathers you in his arms, spinning you in a circle, “Thank you, love.”

For Fred, opening the shop was his dream. However, watching you stand in the middle of the shop, a wide smile on your face as you take everything in, Fred is almost overcome with the intensity of his desire to take your friendship to the next level. Not yet, he tells himself, everything was still so new with the shop and something dark was brewing. Whatever it was, he didn’t want to put you in harm’s way.

Not yet, he tells himself, but soon.

Four:

Endless screaming; endless shouting; endless fighting. That was all it had been. For hours, the castle once thought of as a second home for many students had been the battleground for the opposing sides of war. Those siding with the Dark Lord making it their aim to destroy such a symbol of power and innate goodness; those against him doing their best to keep the castle standing whether it meant laying down their life in the process.

Fred’s mind had been one thing through the whole battle: you.

Even as the wall next to him began to crack; even as it shattered into a million pieces and he was blown out of the way by a spell from Percy, his only thought on his mind had been about you.

Desperately, Fred stalks the lines of injured and dead in the Great Hall. Frantically searching for a glimpse of your hair or a flash of your clothes; anything that would answer the one question circling his mind.

It’s the sound of your cry that has him whirling towards you; relief already being written across his handsome features as he spies you sprinting towards him. He spies blood on your face and on your clothes, but he doesn’t dare ask where it stems from, he doesn’t dare ruin the sweetness of this moment.

You come to a stop in front of him. No words dared uttered as eyes scan the other, worriedly checking for any sign of injury. “I can’t lose you,” You cry, “You have to promise me you won’t leave me.”

Fred hauls you into a hug; crushing your face to his chest as his arms wrap around you so tightly that it almost crushes the breath from your lungs. His hand runs down the length of your body, starting at your hair and ending at the small of your back, “Never. I never plan on leaving you.”

Both of you stand there; clinging onto each other for dear life, inhaling each other’s scent. He smells like brick dust, but underneath all the dirt and blood, you can still smell the citrus and cedarwood that you have come to associate with him.

Gently, Fred rocks you from side to side. To so many, Fred is known to have rough edges. To be loud and spontaneous, and to act before thinking. However, for you, he would be soft. He would be the comforting presence in your life; to be the one to whisper reassuring words and sweet nothings whenever you needed.

He wanted to be the one to love you for however long humanly possible. He just needed to work up the courage to confess.

Five:

The nightmares are the worst part of it all. The constant nightmares that make him question whether he’s awake or asleep.

You’ve taken to sleeping on the couch. It started a month after the end of the war; your flat too small for you to feel comfortable enough on a night. Fred would never tell you this, but he’s glad that the size of your flat drove you to his. Knowing you sleep mere feet away helps him return from the terror inflicted in the night.

He doesn’t like to think of how many times he has woken you in the night. His screams permeating the night air as his fear invades every room of the flat. He doesn’t like to think how often you calmed him down; your fingers carding through his hair until his heart slows to an acceptable pace.

It’s as you crawl into bed with him; a side of his bed already stained with the smell of your perfume, that Fred admits to himself, he is doing better. The healing process has started; the nightmares only being part of it.

Fred believes it’s down to you. You push him to work on himself; to fight through the terror that keeps him in its grip every night. To talk about what happened and his near death experience; you were the first he confessed everything to. He couldn’t face George; he couldn’t face explaining just what went through his head as he readied himself to meet the winged clutches of the reaper.

Fred knows it’s down to you, and he loves you more for it. In the early months after the war, he thought you would leave. He thought that after the first few nightmares, you would call it quits, distancing yourself from him in preservation of your own sanity. He didn’t like to admit to himself how often he kept himself awake with that very thought; how long would it be until you walked away and out of his life?

The time never came, however, and he loves you all the more.

One:

Fred tells you he loves on a sunny day in March. Over a year since the end of the war, and over a decade of friendship, Fred simply cannot remember a time when he didn’t keep you close to his heart.

The day had started off by following its usual routine; breakfast then opening the shop. From there, Fred would manage whatever customers would walk through the door, greeting each and every one with a smile and a pleasantry. He may be a famous prankster, but that didn’t mean his mother had raised him to be impolite.

You join him just before lunch; bell ringing above the joke shop door as you walked in. A smile already on your face at the mere sight of Fred working so devotedly. The smile that breaks across his face when he spies your presence has your heart racing and your palm sweating; you don’t think he even realises the effect he has on you.

“Fancy grabbing lunch with me?” You ask, hoping he says yes.

“When do I ever say no to you?” Fred jokes: mischief bright in his eyes as he grabs his coat, shouting to George that he would gone for a bit.

You never grab lunch. The weather being too nice to spend it inside a café. Outside the shop, you turn to the tall redhead to find him already watching you with a look you cannot decipher. Smiling, you ask, “Shall we just walk instead? The weather is too nice to eat inside.”

Fred chuckles, dramatically bowing at the waist before exclaiming, “After you, my lady.”

You snort, stepping past him to continue up Diagon Alley, heading towards The Leaky Cauldron. Fred asks few questions about the destination you had in mind; just that the hustle and bustle of muggle London becomes apparent as you turn right outside The Leaky Cauldron.

Fred grabs your hand part way through the walk; an almost absent minded action that has your heart fluttering in your chest. Briefly, you wonder if this is it, if Fred is finally going confess that he reciprocates the feelings you’ve long held for the redhead.

As you both continue to walk, each step if more tension-filled than the last. The electricity between you crackling almost audibly.

He pauses suddenly, his feet no longer moving forward as he’s overcome with the depth of his feelings for you. He tugs you to a stop; wanting to smile at the puzzled expression on your face. “Fred? What’s wrong?” You ask; nothing but concern lacing your voice.

“I need to tell you something,” He rushes out, “It can’t wait any longer.”

The crease between your eyebrows deepens; it takes everything within him not to reach out a finger and smooth it down. “You can tell me anything, Fred,” You state firmly; fingers squeezing his tightly before letting them drop.

“I’m in love with you.”

“What?”

“I’m in love with you. I want to love you today, tomorrow, and every day from now on, if you’ll let me,”Fred gasps; the emotions choking off his voice as the sentence ends in a whisper of a plea.

The tears fall down your face freely. “You do?” You sob, voice breaking from the emotions building inside of you.

“I do,” He states. His voice more confident as the feelings he has had for you since he was sixteen years old take root within his heart. The very muscle growing in size to accompany the scale of his feelings for you.

“I love you too,” You confess, your teeth worrying your lower lip as you wring your hands together.

Something within Fred snaps, and before you’re fully aware of it, he has you in his arms. He pulls you tight to him; the length of your body pressed entirely up against his as he buries his face in your neck, practically shuddering with relief.

It takes a moment for Fred to regain composure, to pull his head from the safety of the crook of your neck. He smiles down at you; a wide grin that only heightens your happiness. You reach out tentatively; gently running your thumb across his cheekbone and down the length of his face. He captures your hand in his, pressing a kiss to each fingertip, all the whole his gaze never leaves yours.

He searches your eyes for a silent answer to a silent question. Nodding, you stand on your tiptoes, desperate to reach his height. Timidly, you brush your lips against his. A barely there kiss that has Fred’s veins igniting to flame.

He drops your hand. Instead, he curls his fingers around your waist, tugging you even closer to him as the pressure against your mouth increases. Fred’s mouth insistent on yours as his desperation to memorise every inch of you reaches fever pitch.

You wind your arms around his neck, gasping against his mouth as his hands begin to travel, splaying against your lower back. Fred takes the opportunity to deepen the kiss; he tastes of the tea he drank with his lunch. You cling onto him tighter, wanting nothing more than to take this further until the need for air becomes too much and you reluctantly pull away.

Breaking the kiss, you murmur into the small space between you, “Love me now, Fred. Love me always.”

********

General (HP) taglist: @chaotic-fae-queen @theweasleysredhair @harrypotter289 @kalimagik @heloisedaphnebrightmore @nebulablakemurphy @figlia--della--luna @idont-knowrn @big-galaxy-chaos @black-lake-confessions @annasofiaearlobe @imboredandneedalife @levylovegood @mytreec @haphazardhufflepuff @teheharrypotter @chaoticgirl04 @accio-rogers @starlightweasley @dreaming-about-fanfictions @lestersglitterglue @msmimimerton @obx-beach @izzytheninja @slytherinprincess03 @bbeauttyybbx @breadqueen95​ @acciotwinz​ @slytherinsunrise​ @kylosleftbuttcheek​ @remmyswritings​ @xfirstfemale-marauderx​ @they-write-once-in-a-blue-moon​ @ria-rests-here​ @superbturtlemakerathlete​ @inglourious-imagines​ @ithilwen-lionheart​ @now-its-time-for-a-breakdown​ @ilovejjmaybank​

Fred Weasley taglist: @whiz-bangs78​ @susceptible-but-siriusexual​ @seppys-return-to-madness​ @hexmione​ @ickle-ronniekins​ @oh-for-merlins-sake​

#fred weasley x reader #fred x reader #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley imagines #fred weasley #maggieswinterwritingchallenge

[pynkhues]

Please recommend some of your fav Rio fics!

Of course, anon! Since you asked for Rio fics, I'm going to guess you meant Rio POV fics? If not, I'm sorry, haha, because that's what I've collated, but I hope you give these a shot regardless! They're all fics I think are pretty great. ;-)

Below a cut, because this got long.

But when he does reappear at the store—she still doesn't hear him coming, she needs to work on that—she's wearing a fuckin' dress, and he's glad she hasn't seen him yet because he can't stop himself from grinning.

Maybe it ain't for him, but given the fact that he doesn't think he's seen her legs since he came back—aside from that one night at the bar when she was definitely feeling herself—it seems like this is an intentional break in the pattern. Either way, he fuckin' loves the idea that she's been dressing up all week, not sure if he's coming but wanting to be ready if he does.

Now Use Both Hands by ms_scarlet / @mego42 6k words. Explicit. Beth x Rio. S3 canon divergence.

Ooooof, this fic causes me physical pain, but I love it a whole lot. Meg really captures Beth and Rio at their most acidic, their most sharp edged, while also managing to balance that with the feelings they desperately don’t want to have. It’s a bit magic, and the fact that she follows this up with another fave, Listening Through the Air Shaft is *chef’s kiss*.

- - - -

When he wakes, he's in a hospital bed, mouth dry as bone and he can taste blood, stale and metallic, on his tongue. The pain in his chest has been dulled by the drugs, but it still lingers, a persistent ache that spikes with every breath.

By all rights, he's a dead man walking.

Ten hours, they had him in surgery. From the look of his chart, he'd flatlined twice, and he can feel the consequences of that, see it in the bruises on his chest, the exhaustion lining the faces of his family. He'd woken to a little hand in his, Pop's cheeks damp with tears, and shit, it'd been close. Too close.

Bury a Friend by @ejunkiet >1k words. Mature. Beth x Rio S3 canon divergence.

Pivoting from 3.01, this fic is a wonderful, quiet character study that looks at Rio in the aftermath of the shooting before he explodes back into Beth’s life. It pulses with emotion and with the promise of catharsis, and it’s just a really special little fic. The Rio voice is terrific too.

- - - -

He finally gets what he needs one day when Elizabeth’s wearing this tight black sweater with a keyhole that shows off just enough to make Rio’s jaw rock. It’s so out of the ordinary, so unlike her ugly li’l sweaters or her surburban mama button-ups, he does a double take, head whippin’ around so fast that she catches it immediately. Then she catches where his gaze lands, where it keeps landin’ through their whole stilted, irritated conversation, and he sees her chest pinken til he can count her freckles. He sucks his lower lip into his mouth, and her lips fall open just the smallest bit, and then she looks up at him.

Eyes locked on each other, Rio takes a step closer. Elizabeth doesn’t back away.

I Will Collect You and Capture You by @foxmagpie 17k words. Explicit. Beth x Rio S3 canon divergence.

I feel like I've recced this fic 1,200 times at this point, haha, but it really is one of my favourite fics in the fandom. It has this sort of grip on you as a reader that almost embodies Beth's grip on Rio in the story, and the way it builds and builds and releases only to build and build again is really delicious, affecting writing.

- - - -

“Com’n her and her lady friends were shakin’”

“Shakin’ about the lemon on the fuckin’ granite, sure.”

They chuckled as the car rolled on, the suburbs slipping away with the sun.

“Think they’ll pay up?”

There was a groan as Rio shifted in his seat, flexing his fingers along the dash.

“Neighborhood like this? Everybody knows someone who knows someone with a trust fund.”

Mick’s lighter flickered, followed by long, rasping inhale. “And a boat.”

Smoke swirled lazily through the open window up into the purple sky.

“And a boat.” Echoed Rio.

Drivin' through the Suburbs by gangfriend / @00gangfriend00 5k words. Teen+. Mick + Rio friendship, Beth x Rio. Canon compliant.

It takes a lot to make me laugh out loud in a fic, but this one does multiple times. It's just insanely fun, and captures Rio and Mick at their most boyish in a way I find utterly charming. It's really, really delightful.

- - - -

She’s got her crimes wrapped up and categorized in folders with labels and post-its. Wrapped up in gift paper with a big blue bow on it. And she’ll probably ask Turner do you want freshly baked cookies or some shit when they go raiding her kitchen.

Rio should really get it under control. Her, get her under control.

She opens the door and slumps onto the front seat, her eyes set angrily on him. Nineteen voicemails and she’s still got things to say: he sees it in the twitch of her hand, the restless, frustrated pattern. Any minute now she’s going to settle on new words to voice her complaints like he’s here to listen. Like he’s got the time— like he cares. Like he’d better.

It’s a Work Thing by isoldewas >1k words. Mature. Beth x Rio. 2.12 canon divergent.

I'm a bit of a sucker for a good canon divergent fic, and this one pivots the car break up in 2.12 in a smutty way that just works unfairly well. It's such a great little fic that really settles well into Rio's headspace during the messiness of s2, and I love it.

- - - -

They settle in their respective places and Rio takes the opportunity to give Elizabeth the same once over that asshole did. Her ass really does look great in those pants and she could fill out any shirt. Her eyes linger over him too, tracing his skin, the bar tattoos peeking out from under his t-shirt that she’s seen a million times but she devours at every opportunity. Then her eyes meet his and she gives him that small, crooked lil’ smile.

He’s not one for religion, but every so often he takes his mom to Spanish mass. All the viejitos and pious Catholic types think he’s a banger but his ma’s still excited to show him off. He sits with her in the pew and when the priest asks for the congregation to give thanks to God, he says a prayer for the riches that have come to him, the health and brilliance of his son, the vitality of the other little ones in his life now, and Elizabeth. And when he thinks of her in those moments, he sees her in his mind’s eye with this exact look on her face.

A Bit of a Stretch by @septiembrre 5k words. Teen+. Beth x Rio. Established relationship.

Beth and Rio do a yoga class together! There’s such a lived-in feel to this fic that it feels impossible not to fall a bit in love with it – their relationship is explored in a way that feels true to who the characters are, while sanding down the edges to create something that feels sweet in the way they usually aren’t in canon. It's a great fic, but more than that, it really just works in a way that's a lot more complicated than it looks, and it’s all the more charming for it.

- - - -

He’s happy to keep kissing her like this. To savour it. Realises she’s undone the last few buttons of his shirt at some point as she shoves it down his shoulders. Doesn’t have a second to think about his ugly scars pressed to her skin. Can just feel her little hot palms snaking up his back and grippin’ him tight. Refusing to let any light between them as they kiss for what feels like hours.

He realises these are the lips he’s been tasting. Searching for in other women when his night’s got too unbearably quiet, hunting for an echo of the thing he really wanted. Comin’ up short every damn time. Sweet and soft and lethal. Unique to her.

It’s longing in a way he’s never felt. This is the taste of it.

As Good as This by @riosnecktattoo 5k words. Explicit. Beth x Rio. 4.05 canon divergence.

Okay, I know I just said how much I loved canon divergence fics, but it bears repeating – I love canon divergence fics, haha. This is such a great alternate take on how the wire scene in 4.05 goes down, and it simmers with tension from the opening line. The way it escalates as Rio navigates this newest betrayal works really well too, and it results in a pretty sexy and surprisingly emotional sequence. Magic!

- - - -

“Do we have a deal?” She asks.

When he turns to look at her she’s smiling, and that’s when he realizes he’s absolutely fucked. He’d just fucked himself out of almost a quarter of a million dollars. He lets his eyes drop down her body, licks his lips and nods.

“I choose the place,” he says and turns on his side to face her. “You owe me half - with interest,” he says and slides a hand into her hair. She’s damp, the sweat slowly cooling.

“That’s not what - “ she opens her mouth to protest and he takes that opportunity to slide his mouth across hers and lick into her mouth.

Long Nights by zetuslapetus / @querenaxx 2k words. Explicit. Beth x Rio. S3 canon divergence.

Rio and Beth bone while negotiating a deal! What's not to love, haha. This has such a fun checks and balances feel to it which just makes me want to peel my skin off, it's so good. It's exactly the way I like my Beth and Rio - hot and snarky and constantly trying to get a leg over the other, literally and figuratively. It's the best.

- - - -

He should go out and find someone to fuck. Maybe text one of his hookups. See if Jen’s working. He has options.

He knows what he should do.

But it turns out fucking other people is a worse hell than the one they create when they’re together.

And now that he’s yielded to this wicked ecstasy, he knows he’ll do anything to keep sitting in the fire with her.

To Sit in Hell with You by @daydreamstew 2k words. Beth x Rio. Explicit. s4 canon divergence.

Canon-divergent from 4.06 – Beth and Rio keep hooking up after the time at his grandma’s place. It’s fun and sexy while also keeping the complicated push-pull and lack of communication at the heart of them. Deeelightful.

- - - -

“Does it make it easier?” Maddie asks him once they’re spent, maybe emboldened because he has already brought her into their bed. Which may be unfair, because Lee had been in their bed from the beginning.

“What?” He seems lost in his thoughts, his arm behind his head. In a few minutes he’ll get up and get ready to get back to the factory. Like always, she’ll be looking for her keys so she won’t be late for work.

“Getting it out of your system before you see her.”

Rio glances at her. “I don’t always see you when I see her.”

It’s so rare for him to explicitly mention this woman, however tenuously, and Maddie waits for more. Rio’s gotten like this about a few women in his life but it doesn’t happen often.

Sure am Using You by aniara 2k words. Explicit. Rio x OC, Rio x Beth.

It's not for everyone, but I absolutely love fics that feature characters with other people in ways that tell you something about the characters' feelings about somebody else. In this fic, Rio's fucking one of his childhood friends, but it's all about Beth really, and the way both Rio and the OC negotiate that is really compelling writing, and feels so in character for Rio. I really love it.

- - - -

Rio dreams of her that night, again. It’s irritatingly pedestrian – Elizabeth’s kissing him deep and then, ah, suddenly his gun’s in her hand and she shoots him, with a double encore. It’s always variations on the same futile theme. When he wakes it’s not that he’s freaked, unaware of reality or his whereabouts. But he’s been soaked in anger for so long. He can’t think straight, not on her. It’s honestly terrifying. Cos stubbornly keeping his head on right is – that’s him. Maybe her entire raison d’etre is destroying every single one of his attributes though.

He ain’t sure if his subconscious is desperately screaming that he’s made the wrong move, letting her live. Or if it’s the total opposite. Could be fucking neither. It’s not – it’s not getting any easier. And that main reason for not biting the bullet, that he’d be mad as hell for being mad as hell at himself over killing her, it's not smelling any less idiotic.

Climbing up the Walls by s_t_c_s / @sothischickshe 8k words. Explicit. Beth x Rio. S3 canon divergence.

Another canon divergence from 2.13 and an interpretation of how s3 could've gone, and another one I really love. There's a throughline of chaotic frustration to this fic that rings true to Rio's character for me, and the way that that reverberates through his moments not just with Beth, but alone and with other women, feels really textured and interesting and real. It's pretty great.

#this was fun to put together #so many good fiicccss #truly a blessed fandom #beth x rio #beth boland #rio #nbc good girls #gg fic #fic recs #welcome to my ama

[puppetsoftomorrow]

avalance wedding vows

@puppetavasharpe challenged me to write the avalance wedding vows, so i wrote everything but the vows! (nah jokes there are some vows in here i just got Very carried away lmao). i'll clean up and post to ao3 when i find the time. enjoy!!

They both agreed they’d spent too much time apart in the weeks before their wedding to spend the night before it apart, and Sara was grateful, the nervous hammering of her heart calmed by Ava’s hand in hers, as they lay in the semi-darkness, neither ready to sleep quite yet.

“We're getting married tomorrow.” Ava said softly into the darkness.

“Yeah.” Sara said, the sound floating in the air. “Do we have to do it front of everyone? Can't we elope? Because we have a time machine, we don’t need to be married by an Elvis impersonator in Vegas, I can take us to get married by the real Elvis -”

“You're nervous.” Ava said - it wasn't a question, more of a slightly surprised statement, and Sara made an indignant noise.

“No, Sara Lance does not get nervous -”

Ava squeezed her hand, and Sara stopped the act.

“Fucking terrified. You?”

“Yeah, kind of.” Ava said softly. “But - the idea that you’ll be there - that helps. Is that weird?”

“No.” Sara said, as she moved further into her fiancée's side. “No, I think that helps me too.”

“Have you got everything ready? Are your vows written?” Ava asked, and it was Sara’s turn to squeeze her hand, trying to calm the part of Ava that needed their wedding day to run like a train station under communist rule.

“Yeah, all written.” She said, trying to keep her voice nonchalant. She had some pointers on a piece of paper in the pocket of her dress, and her plan of seeing where the day took her for the rest of it would almost certainly work. “What about you?”

“All done.” Ava said, her tone almost strangled, and Sara turned, propping herself up on one elbow to look down at her.

“Why do you look so guilty?” Sara asked, slightly confused, and her face broke into a grin when Ava started to flush pink.

“I wrote them - um – maybe about a year ago.”

“What? But I hadn't proposed -”

“I know.” Ava said, a hand coming up to cover her cheek. “It wasn’t - um - after anything in particular, you’d just come back from Star City and it sort of hit me, then, that this is what I wanted. For the rest of my life. So, I wrote them.”

“But you waited all this time -”

“Because I wanted you to propose to me.” Ava said, her voice soft, and she turned away, clearly embarrassed, but Sara’s hand caught her, to bring their eyes back together. “I just - I wanted to be proposed to. I know that’s sappy. And I wanted you to know, on your own, that you were completely ready.”

“I’m ready.” Sara said softly, as she ran her thumb along Ava's cheekbone. “That's adorable. You’re so cute.”

“Shut up.” Ava muttered, still bright red, and Sara laughed.

“Aw, Aves, is that any way to treat your future wife?”

“Go to sleep.” Ava said, grinning now, and she gently pushed Sara back down. Sara took full advantage of the new position and moved close, pressing her face against Ava’s shoulder and snaking her arms around her waist.

“I'm excited to hear them. I can't wait to marry you.”

“I can't wait either.” Ava said, voice a near whisper. “And - if it gets too much tomorrow- we can go find Elvis and he can marry us.”

“Thank you.” Sara said as she yawned, finally ready to sleep. “Night, baby. Love you.”

“Goodnight, my love.” Sara heard, softly spoken, as she drifted off to sleep.

///

Best laid plans - and Ava's plans were always the best - seemed a truism in that moment. Guests had been arriving in a constant stream, Mick making trips in the jump ship to pick everyone up, grumbling that he wasn't a taxi service, and Sara had only just finished getting ready - slipping into her white jumpsuit and curling her hair, as Nate sat on the bed and gushed about how beautiful love was, Behrad fast asleep next to him.

Constantine's mansion looked wonderful, Astra having spent a week learning the spells to cover the place in streamers and balloons, only they kept appearing and disappearing randomly, which caused Sara to yelp as a party of balloons suddenly appeared next to her.

She’d lost her shoes. These shoes were nothing special, but Sara was determined to find them, because they were her tallest pair, and she wasn't having Ava craning her neck to kiss her in every one of their wedding photos. People might think she was short or something.

Sara rounded into the ballroom, and saw something she was definitely not meant to see.

“Ava?” She said, and Ava turned, squeaked, and squeezed her eyes shut.

“Sara! What are you doing! Nate said he’d keep you in the bedroom until -”

“I’m just - what are you doing?”

“It's bad luck to see each other.” Ava said, eyes still tight shut, and Sara laughed, a slightly shaky sound.

“Well, baby, I’ve seen you now.” She looked her up and down, slightly in awe. Ava's dress was simple, ivory satin with a bardot neckline, her hair curled over one shoulder, elegant and beautiful. There was a quiver in Sara’s voice when she spoke again. “You're so beautiful. How did I ever get this lucky?”

“Stop it, you shouldn’t even be seeing me.” Ava said, her voice also thick with emotion, and Sara took three steps forward across the ballroom, taking Ava’s hands in her own.

“You can look, baby.” Sara said softly, and Ava’s eyes opened, widening when she took in what Sara was wearing. When their eyes connected again, there were tears on her lashes.

“You look so pretty. Are those trousers?”

Sara laughed and nodded, trying to keep her own tears at bay. “Yeah, um, the last wedding I went to was kind of invaded by Nazi superheroes, so I thought this would work for fighting.”

“You’re so practical. I'm not going to ask about the Nazis.” Ava sniffed, and Sara reached out to hold her hands.

“I can’t wait to marry you.” Sara said softly.

“You'll be there, won’t you? At the end, waiting for me?” Ava asked, almost shyly, and Sara nodded. All the Legends, even Spooner, had offered to walk her down the aisle when it had come out that Ava had no family to do it for her, but Ava had decided to walk alone.

Her only caveat - that Sara go first, so she could see who she was walking towards.

“Yeah, baby. I’ll be there.” Sara said, and turned slightly at Behrad’s shout of “I’ve found them!”

“That's my cue.” Sara said, trying to shake the tears from her eyes, and Ava scrunched her brow.

“Found what?”

“I'll tell you afterwards baby. I'll see you later.”

“I wouldn't miss it.” Ava said softly, and Sara beamed at her, before turning to run back the other way, before anyone saw that they’d seen each other.

///

Sara stood in the eaves, looking out to the flower filled garden, guests seated and talking, enjoying the sun and the chance to see old friends.

If her nerves weren’t bad before -

“You ready, kid?”

The gruff voice of her dad came from just behind her, and Sara nodded, trying to hide her sweating palms.

“Yeah, I’m ready. I just -” She started, then her voice dropped slightly. “I wish Laurel was here. I’d never imagined that I'd be doing this without her.”

“She’d be so proud of you.” Quentin said softly, and Sara nodded, a wet laugh escaping her lips when she realized they were both crying.

Before Sara could reply, the familiar tune played on the violin swept over the garden, and the guests fell in a hush, and Sara accepted the handkerchief her dad offered to wipe her eyes.

Quentin held out his arm, and Sara looped hers through his, stepping out into the light.

///

It all seemed like a blur. Ava walked down the aisle, a vision in white, a nervous smile on her face, and Sara considered just booking it down the few feet of grass that separated them to hold her hand, but she stayed firm, and Ava reached her, handing her bouquet off to Mona, and Sara reached out then, threading their fingers together. Nate’s words about love and their relationship almost melted away as she stared into Ava’s eyes, and she would have missed the vows if it weren’t for Ava gently squeezing her hand.

“Sara - I -” Ava started, stopped, took a shaky breath, and Sara beamed at her, willing her on, and Ava swallowed. “I wrote this after you came to Purgatory to get me. I’d never imagined, up until that point, that anyone could ever love me enough to do something like that, bring me back from the precipice, but you did.” Ava paused, and smiled gently at her. “You’ve changed my life irrevocably, and always for the better. You’ve made me a better person, a more thoughtful person, you’ve helped me to find who I am – you've also helped me to lose both my job and my house, but we won’t dwell on that -”

Ava seemed almost surprised when the guests laughed, and Sara squeezed her hand.

“Every time I think I’ve figured you out, you do something that surprises me. I can’t imagine my life – my future - without you in it, and I want it, all of it, every crazy adventure and every not so crazy one, just – all of it, because, I know whatever it is, you’ll be there with me, and we’ll face it together.” Ava said, then took a breath. “I love you, Sara Lance. Always and forever.”

Sara stood, slightly open mouthed, and would have kissed her if that wasn’t the main event in a few minutes. “Your turn.” Ava said, soft and just for her, and Sara nodded, her heart suddenly beating a little faster. She dropped Ava’s hands, and pulled her notes out.

Another benefit of a jumpsuit – pockets.

“Well, I wrote these vows after you said we couldn’t elope and get married by Elvis -” Laughter rippled through the assembled crowd, and Sara felt her shoulders relax. “Ava - I don’t know what good I did in this life to deserve you. I’ve made mistakes, I’ve died, and I’ve lost my way so many times and I never thought I could find my way back, but with you – I know I can always find my way home.”

Ava smiled at her, tears on her cheeks, and Sara moved to hold her hand again.

“I love you. I don’t know what the future holds, but I know it’ll be okay, because you’ll be there with me. I’ll be here, for as long as you’ll have me.”

Ava nodded, beaming through her tears, and Nate pronounced them married, and Sara could finally kiss her, and the light came in, warm and true.

///

“If I’d known that Behrad was such a huge Celine Dion fan, I wouldn't have let him be the DJ.” Sara said, pressing herself closer to Ava to be heard over the music that was sounding through the ballroom. Ava laughed, the sound moving through her, and Sara held her wife a little tighter as they slow danced to Because You Loved Me. “You’d think a guy from 2042 would have better music taste.”

“This wouldn't be such a bad first dance.” Ava hummed, swaying gently. They'd tried to forgo as much formality as they could - speeches and a first dance included - but Sara had danced with her dad, and Ava had danced with him to in a move that made Sara cry for the tenth time that day.

“It’s sappy as hell.” Sara said, and Ava laughed again.

“You are sappy, you’ve cried so many times today.”

“Yeah, I’ve gotten soft.” Sara said, eyebrows knitting together, until Ava pressed a kiss there.

“That’s not a bad thing.” Ava hummed, and they stood there, swaying gently. “Your vows were soft.”

“Yeah, and now all my family and friends know I have feelings.” Sara said with a dramatic sigh. “You’ve really ruined my reputation.”

Ava shrugged, before moving backwards to spin Sara before catching her again. “I rather like that you have feelings.” Ava said softly, once Sara was safe in her arms again, and Sara melted into it just as the last beat of the song played across the room.

The moment was ruined when Behrad yelled, and Bootylicious started to play across the radio. Sara burst out laughing to see Zari had taken up position next to the speakers.

“Actually, I change my mind, this is our first dance.” Ava said, and Sara just laughed as the rest of the guests started to pour onto the dancefloor.

#phoebe lifeblogs #legends of tomorrow #avalance #okay for the tags #behrad is a celine dion fan #and z2 loves destiny's child #i dont make the rules

[thisismeracing]

King of my heart | MS47 | part. 22

― Pairing: Mick Schumacher x fem!hamilton!reader ― Word count: 2.2k ― Warnings: graphic description of unprotected sex (fingering, dirty talk, and p in v), mentions of alcohol, and jealousy.  ― Summary: Mick Schumacher rode a lousy wave for quite some time, so when the sky gets cleaner and the sun brighter he just knows something terrible may be in store for him. Whereas y/n was just so magnetic, and the possibilities of life with her seemed better than anything his mind could ever create, that’s why, for the first time in forever, he threw caution carelessly through the window, hoping to get to the finish line before it catches up on him.

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part. 21 | series masterlist | part 23

The first beads of sun slipped through the open blinds waking Yn from her deep slumber. With her head pounding slightly, and her body sore, she snuggled closer to the body she knew belonged to her boyfriend. Mick mumbled something in German, which she chose to ignore in favor of catching a few more minutes of sleep. 

They were tired. Last night was a blast for them, and though the couple had a bit too much to drink, both were well aware of exactly what happened when they were at the party and when they got home. 

Between unmade bed sheets, and naked limbs laced together, Yn and Mick caught a few more minutes of sleep, and those minutes would probably turn into hours if it hadn’t been for her phone ringing somewhere in the room. The unstoppable sound wakes Mick up too. He looked around, threw a pillow where he thought the sound was coming from, and turned his body, fitting his head on Yn’s neck. She grumbled, and hugged her lover, trying to ignore whoever it was, but the sound kept going until she got up, cursing technology and the caller’s generation. And as it just so happens, she had cursed her older brother, Lewis.

“Yes?” She sighed, walking back to bed and into Mick’s open arma. His body was warm, and she took the opportunity to leave a peck on his chest.

“Did you just wake up?!” 

“Well, yes? It’s early. I don’t know how you travel so much and still get confused with timezones…” 

Lewis rolls his eyes, she can’t see it, but she can tell just by his sassy answer, “Early to who exactly, Yn Y/l/n Hamilton?”

“Me, of course.”

“Check the clock,” he orders and she does, groaning when she realizes it's almost noon.

“Who is it?” Mick asks, finally starting to wake up. 

“It’s Lew,” she explains, clicking on the speaker button.

“Oh, Mick is there too?” 

“Yeah, we were sleeping,” Yn keeps her answer short.

“Where’s Gina?”

“I don’t know, Lew, you have her number, you could just call her directly? Also, did you call me to ask a bunch of random questions?” she complains, the sleeplessness in her voice showing, and her brother rolling his eyes again. He knows how stressed Yn could get when someone woke her up before her alarm, and something about waking up to the phone ringing just made her more stressed.

“I was just wondering if she knew you guys were making it public, or if I was the only clueless one.” Yn cursed, hiding her face on Mick’s neck, “Do you even remember it?” 

“Yes, I remember. I’m sorry, Lew,” she didn’t want to do things the way it happened, but sometimes you can’t get around planning everything. She didn’t plan on paparazzi to stress her out until she deactivated her social media accounts. Nor did she plan on falling in love with her brother’s friend and coworker. At this point, Yn was getting used to following the flow of life, sometimes it has its own wants, and you just gotta go with it. “We did drink, but we weren’t crazy drunk, we…uhm…how do I explain this?” she bites her lips and Mick chuckles.

“The simple way.”

“We got sick of pretending,” Mick finally speaks. His deep morning voice brought chills down Yn’s body.

“People were hitting on us, and we showed them why we reeeeally weren’t interested,” Yn adds, and Mick chuckles. 

“She got jealous.”

“I did not get jealous, Mickolas.”

“Stop calling me that,” he grumbles, landing a slap on her ass and making her yelp, then giggle.

“Anyways, I didn’t get jealous, Lew. I’m not a jealous person and you know that, right? Tell him how I’m hardly the jealous type.”

Her brother laughs from the other side of the line, “She cried when a friend of mine started calling herself my sister during my high school years.”

Mick moves his face to the ceiling and his laughs boom around the room.

“Shut up, I was just a kid, and she had a brother, why would she want mine?” Yn tries to reason, and the two men can only get amused with the whole situation. “And Lew, those people were CRAZY! We told one of them we were dating, Mick kissed me just to make a point, and this girl just suggested a threesome!!! Of course, I was pissed.”

Lewis makes a disgusted noise and Yn looks pointedly at Mick as if to prove her point: she wasn’t jealous, someone just crossed the line at the party and she had to grab the reins.

“You’re so hot when you’re all bossy, and jealous,” Mick moves his lips to her ears, his whisper is warm against her exposed skin and so are his lips when he kisses and nips her neck.

“Are you hard launching right now? Or dropping a note, I don’t know,” Lewis asks, unaware of how distracted his sister is.

“We haven’t talked about it yet, we just woke up,” Yn didn’t know how her brain was able to form coherent sentences and let them leave her mouth because the way Mick’s kisses were trailing up her collarbone was enough to make her lose all senses.

“Yup, we’re exhausted,” Mick detaches his lips from her skin to speak, “We really need to get some sleep, can we call you later, man?”

“Yeah, take care you two, love you guys,” Lewis’ answer is followed by an “I love you” from Yn and a quick “bye” from Mick before the German threw the phone behind his back.

“Mickolas, my phone!” Yn screeched and moaned between a laugh when his hands found her ass.

“I already told you to stop calling me that.” 

“It’s funny,” she bit her lips and chuckled remembering how some fans were calling him that as if it was his real name.

“I’ll show you funny,” his blue orbs pierced hers with such an intensity her smile faltered, and she had to bite back a moan. That was his power over her, one look, and Mick had Yn in dreamland, twisting in anticipation.

Still, she has it in her to be sassy. Anything but losing the joke, “Are you sure you’re about to show me funny? Because I have a feeling it’s a different thing.”

“Well, it can be funny, you know, but since you’re in a silly mood, I guess we can adopt a new approach,” his mouth trailed lower until they found one of her breasts. Yn curved her body, exposing more of her naked brown skin just for him. She looked so good. The previous night Yn had skipped the bonnet and the night ritual they usually had, both too tipsy to think about something but finish what they started at the bar and then go to sleep, so now her curls were everywhere framing her face like a crown. Mick had traveled everywhere, seen too much of the world, and known a lot of people, but Yn was his favorite sight. He loved the sunset, but he would give it up to see her going to sleep every night, the way her lashes would caress her smooth skin, her breath starting to even, and her body going soft on top of his. He had been in love with sunrises since he was a little boy, watching them with his family during vacation, climbing mountains to get a new version of it, but no questions asked, Mick would exchange it for waking up next to Yn, the way her eyes would slowly open like the sun climbing up to show all its light, how her body would stretch taking its needed space like one claim their land, and how her lips would stretch into his favorite smile shining over the whole room. She was his favorite person. 

He put his mouth on her with the same intensity one crawls to their knee at an altar. The same devotion one would previously kneel in front of their queen, head bowed, ears perked, body ready to obey. She was the queen of his heart, she had all its land, she dominated his mind, and all it would take was one word for Mick to make it happen. 

Yn threaded her fingers through his messy blond strands, moaning when he twisted one of her nipples inside his mouth, sucking and biting as if wanting to leave his mark there. It hurt so good.

“You’re so pretty,” he whispered, kissing down her belly, letting his teeth graze into her skin every second just to watch the way her body would jolt in pleasure under him, “So so pretty, Schatzi.” 

His pink plush lips were home to more praises, while they kissed down her body separating her thighs and stopping between them. His thick accent gave space to German sentences and Yn reached for him again, this time intertwining their fingers while he kept going, softly giving her words she didn’t really recognize, but knew to be love ones. 

Such a sweet talker.

“So sweet,” he mouthed against her pussy, making a jolt run through her body. “And mine, aren’t you all mine, Schatz?” 

Yn closed her eyes, panting something that neither one of them could understand, too at the moment to care. All of her senses focused on the tight hold his fingers had around hers, and how he feasted between her legs, like a starved man, a thirsty one. 

“I didn’t hear you, love,” he teases, stopping his ministrations to look at her. 

Yn huffs, then whines taking her hand from her nipple to his hair, but the blonde down her body doesn’t move an inch, big shoulders keeping her legs apart, face right in front of her needing core, but attention now set on her face.

“I’m yours,” it's a whisper, but he catches it by the stretch on his lips. The kind of smirk only she can take. “I’m all yours, Mick,” and those three words accompanied by his name like a prayer were all it took for the German to flatten his tongue against her core, feeling her pussy dampen even more. 

He used his fingers to spread her lips for him before inserting two. They slid in so easily that Mick couldn’t help but groan moving his lower half against the white sheets. He licked and frantically moved his fingers making Yn’s head lull from side to side, her lips conjuring what she could only say were prayers, his name clear as the sunlight that beamed their bodies through the windows. 

Still sore from the previous night’s ministrations, Yn felt the pulsing between her legs start to grow, her body screaming to reach the top of the rollercoaster, only for Mick to stop his fingers and detach his mouth from her clit. She protested, but his lips were quick to crash against hers in a languid kiss. Yn moaned, pulling him into her, and Mick took the opportunity to swiftly align their bodies, sliding inside her smoothly. With one of her hands on his hair, the other on his back, and legs laced around his narrow waist, they felt the jolts of pleasure buzzing through their bodies. 

He pounds lazily, building Yn’s orgasm all over again. His face hid against her neck while he kissed and nipped at her skin, putting his lips on her ears and dirty talking every once in a while. The last time he did so he let a moan there, and he wasn’t expecting her to be so affected, because the second Mick did Yn clenched around him, legs tightening around him, and teeth sinking into his shoulder, her orgasm washing like a high wave, before her body went limp under him. 

He gives her a few more thrusts, enough to ride her climax, and to cause his. A choked groan leaves his lips, as he presses their foreheads together, body dissolving into pleasure. Mick sighed, lying on his back and bringing Yn’s body on top of his. He pecked her lips and stopped a drop of sweat that rolled down her forehead. 

Yn only hummed in satisfaction enjoying the warm feeling of their sweaty bodies intertwined.

“What do you wanna do, babe?” Mick asks while his fingers lazily strum on her naked back.

“I think it’s time we make it public. I’m tired of all the speculation, and also it wasn’t the highlight of my night watching people flirt with you as if you were single,” she grumbled the last part and the blonde chuckled. 

“You were jealous,” it’s a statement, but his tone gives away he’s making fun of her. A tease.

“You’re the one who grabbed me and sat me on your lap.”

“You’re the one who kissed me.” 

“Well, sitting on someone’s lap proves a point, I figured you wanted to make it public,” she shrugs, dragging her nails softly from his hips to the middle of his abdomen. “Also, why would you put me in your lap out of the blue, huh?” 

Mick rolls his eyes and bites back a chuckle. She had a point. He kind of started it, but “Was I supposed to watch that douche shoot his shot?” 

“Ha! See?! You were jealous.” 

He seals their lips in a kiss, “doesn’t matter anymore, now we get to shut the flirts down without too much work.” His statement makes Yn giggle between the kiss, and he can’t help but smile. His sunshine. 

────── ⋆🪩 VOICEMAIL: Hi, lovelies! I hope you liked this chapter. I know it took me forever again, but the waiting is about to be over hehe, I wanted to add a huge shout-out to C (my Coffee emoji anon here on Tumblr) for proofreading this and for keeping my komh thoughts alive, I was honestly a bit unmotivated, thanks C! <3. Let me know your thoughts with a reblog or an ask *mwah*.  

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[1ddiscourseoftheday]

🗣Tues 15 Dec ‘20🙊

Anyone order their daily with EXTRA DISCOURSE today? Lucky you, I guess, I'd send it back to the kitchen if I had the option but this is more a 'you'll take what you get and like it' kind of establishment so here we are! EAT UP we got Liam and Lou Teasdale making everyone mad, Louis and Harry's teams forgetting they're supposed to be mortal enemies, and Zayn?? Getting papped?? Omg is Z3 really coming this time? I've been burned so many times before (flown too close to the sun) but what if....... So first Gigi and zaby stroller were papped, then Zayn was papped in his usual way-- 'if you can get a good picture of me in the seconds it takes me to walk from my front door to the car have at it, that's exactly all you get'-- and then a fan reported seeing Zigi and zaby at a pizza restaurant. Zayn's hair is bleached white blond and that's about all I can tell you except that Z NEVER gets papped (or spotted really) for nothing so I am excite!!

Liam's back! He did the postponed-from-last-Tues hour long live for Stand Up To Cancer (and raised $16k!) and he's got a show in two days so I'd say his extremely brief breather is probably done with, whether he got the time he needed to be happy about coming back or not. He seems in good shape for the live though, even if he does say “its been a really long day, you don't even know, REALLY long” and that what he wants most for Christmas is “to have a little bit of time to reflect.” But he says he is going to take some time out and go away and write music “for the first time in a very long time,” in the new year, nice! He mentions how he went up to Sweden for recording recently and says it ”went really well I'm really really excited” about the new music and, uhhh, “got something sent through from Mick Fleetwood while I was over in Sweden writing, some guitar stuff, which was amazing, and he was dressed like santa at the time!” I...what??? I'll just... leave that there?? About other bands, he says that he's become a big fan of the Wanted over time, that “someone Zayn-ed out,” of Little Mix but “Zayn left for pretty much the same reasons and I do feel for them,” and “are 5SOS still together? Did they pull an us I thought they pulled an us?” He said yes, it's so great about Louis' show, and “it was great, and do you know what, like listening through those lyrics, it’s really nice to hear the truth in his music because obviously I mean I know all of the full story about him, and [pause].. and uh... his relationship with his girlfriend and whatever else,” SKLDYSSKKJ.

This long live also had him responding to screen comments he would usually ignore (though thank GOD he only reads but doesn't answer 'what happened with Niall in Japan' please tell me the questioner wasn't trying to get him to comment on the 'violently masturbating' story), anyway so we got Liam on touching his hair if larry is real-- “of course that's not going to happen don't be silly,” and on whether he thinks 'larry is disrespectful' “sometimes I do... actually that's not true, all the time I do.” Well he's not wrong though I'd expand that to 'all the fans' but if I had to wade through a million “touch your nose if larry is real” comments every time I was promoting my own material, for ten years, I'd probably get tetchy too! He didn't say it was or wasn't real, as he himself pointed out he never WILL do that for REASONS; tbh I'm with Liam can people PLEASE stop being so embarrassing on main and let him live? ANYWAY, moving on, his Advent Alarm clock today is the sleep story edited down to be just Liam laughing for like 30 seconds, aka the exact edit that I suggested they should make a couple weeks ago, which I find frankly extremely alarming (ALARMing HA) are they... listening to me?? Well if Liam's management are looking for ideas BOY HAVE I GOT SOME FOR THEM hit me up fellas PLEASE.

Harry and Louis both announced further postponements of their UK and Europe tour shows, like really the same announcement and just fully back to back, I can only assume that after weeks of intensive hashing out to match up dates their teams have arrived at some kind of plan and were like cool let's announce! Louis has added some new shows, while Harry's new schedule is undisclosed as yet. Harry says “I really hope to play these shows and will have news for you in the new year on when they will take place.” Louis' new dates include previously omitted countries (Iceland! Austria!), and those tickets go on sale Friday. Harry did not respond to Rob Sheffield's awkward attempt to link Watermelon Sugar and WAP as being similar but he did like Megan Thee Stallion's post celebrating her successful year, and Vulture ranked Adore You in its top 5 videos of the year with a much better take on what Harry is all about, saying that it “highlights one of the singer’s best traits: his willingness to be delightfully weird.” Kid Harpoon said that he and Harry “wrote a song in Japan that may yet see the light of the day,” and Harry continues to roast him, disputing his songwriter of the year award-- “they found 8,000,000 opposing ballots in a bin behind his house! FRAUD!”

And last but most discourse-y-est of all, The Sun made waves today, pulling the most salacious parts of a Lou Teasdale interview with the Sex, Lies and DM Slides podcast from last week and bringing it to wider attention. In the interview she talked at length about systemic discrimination against women working in the music industry and her own work experiences, which naturally include (very briefly) touching on her highest profile job- the years she spent traveling with 1D. In this context she says “you kind of can’t sleep with them [the band]- it’s quite important to keeping your job... some people would come in and like you know assistants and stuff and I think they would really think... that it was love and obviously it’s not,” and “it’s just the quickest way to lose your job- because then they’ve got a new girlfriend and she’s there and they don’t want you in the room.” She did not sell her story to The Sun she mentioned this in passing as part of an interview about her work experiences; she herself says, “I didn’t do an interview [with] the sun. I’ve never done that. I did a podcast with friends about loads of things.”

There is nothing remotely unlikely in this story, either in the concept that members of the band slept with girls casually (we know that certain of them did and there isn't even anything wrong with that in a situation of consent, the denial of it is as bizarre as scribbling out the beer bottle in a 28 year old man's hand), or that low level members (“assistants and stuff”) of the 150 person+ crew appeared and disappeared on a regular basis. The band were, to my guess, probably simply not paying very much attention to the serious ramifications of this carelessness and the consequences rather than demanding that people be fired, but I do very much hope they've learned over the years to be responsible for the kind of power that they have over other peoples' lives (something I really doubt they understood the extent of yet as very young people being dragged from one place to another who felt powerless themselves).

#liam payne #harry styles #louis tomlinson #zayn #lou teasdale #listen: people talk about wanting the 1D tell all but I don't think you guys do want it at all tbh #you know the whole point of that is that it will destroy the 'perfect angels' front that was created around the boys? #loving and supporting someone even though you know they are imperfect and flawed is not something to be ashamed of though #so I say bring it on #Liam has SO MANY reasons to be cranky right now and coming back online to everyone clamoring for him to comment #on Louis' record breaking veeps stream... honestly think it through?? have some fucking tact #Liam also said Freddie and Bear facetime which is just such clear nonsense I have no comment he just wants to make people happy #I DON'T KNOW if the Mick Fleetwood thing is real like – he seems dead serious??? I think it's serious? #How fucking Liam is that right he is as ever the most unrealistic I'm bringing back that tag: #Liam is a Gary Sue #Zaayyyyn is Z3 coming??? listen may I suggest sir-- LIVEZTREAM??? PLEASE? #I know you won't tour and wouldn't want you to but just consider how PERFECT this would be?? PLEASE SIR #lost in the shuffle: Lou Teasdale also addressed the old quote about keeping the 1D boys from looking 'too feminine' #(assumed to be @harry) saying 'it’s taken totally out of context. A clip from male grooming interview talking about grooming men. #I have no problem with men wearing make up or looking feminine it’s my profession. I apologise it sounds like that here.' #I feel like the truth is somewhere in between but I very much doubt she- the MUA- had final say over their images #and might well have not been the only thing standing between harry and his nail art and eyebrow grooming #I don't like her but like- dislike her for better reasons! #There are plenty she's very annoying but talking about sexism in the workplace and telling her story isn't one of them #Liam said he was very drunk watching Louis' show #I have a lot of things I'd like to say to Liam's management but mostly not publicly and some of them very rude #but I will say that while I guess the acknowledgement that young girls are the real drivers of the music industry and should be courted is #cool the continued obsession with only marketing these guys to that demographic was always ridiculous #and gets worse every year and Liam's team is simply throwing away money and fans by not marketing him so hard (heh) to out gay men #long post

[wiypt-writes]

Murder, He Wrote

Part 2 Co-Written with @southerngracela​

Summary: After your ordeal at the hands of Ransom, you’re not sure that things can get any worse. Famous last words….

Warnings: Bad language words. MATURE (NSFW 18+) NON-CON situation, kidnap, violence. DO NOT READ IF ANY OF THOSE TRIGGER… READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!!!!

Pairing: DARK! Ransom Drysdale x Reader

A/N:  So this is Part 2 to our submission for @Jtargaryen18 ‘s Haunted House 2020  Challenge. Once again READ THE WARNINGS!!!! This is a DARK Series… don’t @ us if you can’t follow simple instructions and end up with butt-hurt. And if you’re under 18…get off my blog.

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and by writing it does NOT mean I agree with or condone the acts contained within. This fiction is classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar reader and any other OCs that may or may not be mentioned. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Murder, He Wrote Masterlist // Main Masterlist.

Part 1

  With his pride wounded, Ransom drank himself to sleep that night, his mind plotting and scheming of more ways to make his point clear. She was his now and nothing was going to change that. He'd decided it might be time to let her in on his secrets and breakfast seemed as good a time as any and, as such, presented her with a plate of bacon and toast along with a cup of coffee to wash it down. He didn't cook, not well anyway, his preference being diner out or order in. He supposed if this was his new normal, he'd have to learn a new skill. He cringed just slightly at the thought of such domesticity. 

When you heard the locks turn, your belly dropped out. You were shocked to see him, afraid of what was coming your way. If the events from the previous night were any indication, you had to steel yourself to once again fight back. Your tired eyes took him in. A plate and mug in his hands, jeans over his long legs, boots on his feet. Broad shoulders covered by a white ribbed long sleeve thermal shirt, eyes cold and distant, arrogant smirk over his lips. A smirk of your own barely parted your lips as you took note of the now pink lines adorning his right cheek, courtesy of your nails biting at his skin in the attack. You turned away from him, your body instinctively curling in on itself, chain stopping you from balling up completely when he approached. Your mouth watered at the smell of the bacon and coffee. You were hungry but your body fought to ignore the pangs, offering him that satisfaction.

 "I'm not hungry," you managed, desperately irritated at how weak you sounded. 

"Starve then," he set the plate and mug on the nightstand at your bedside. He stood rooted there, arms crossed over his chest. 

"People are gonna be looking for me, you know," you point out, sitting up a little more, confidence growing by the second. 

“You don’t think I’ve already thought of that?” His hands moved from across his chest to his hips. 

As you looked at him, that maddening smug look present on his face it suddenly dawned on you that he might have been more calculating than you’d imagined. And then you understood. You figured out what the connection between him and the actor you’d been supposedly meeting was. None. None whatsoever, except that Lucas Lee had been easy, collateral damage. "You set him up," your brow rose and shock filled your voice. "Lucas Lee... You set him up. What the hell did you do?" 

"Sweetheart, the guy's a complete tool, he walked right into it and he'll walk right out. Just a couple of hours of questioning and he'll be let go," Ransom shrugged as if this were nothing. 

"You're disgusting," you seethe. This arrogant asshole used someone just to get to you and he was PROUD of it. You didn't know what you expected, but the notion of the reality was appalling.

"You don't know the half of it," he winked.

"You're never going to get away with this," you managed to threaten. The look in his eyes caught your breath as he leaned in close, hands on the mattress on either side of your hips. 

"I killed Fran, got away with that. I nearly killed Marta, same story," he said, popping a shoulder up. "The point is, Sweetheart, I'm that good, they'll never find you."

"My family, my friends…they'll go to the police. Mick, my boss, he'll want to know where I am after not showing up today. You can't possibly have thought of everything," you shook your head as you wondered just how long he'd been plotting this. You’d only met the asshole a few months ago, interviewed him for a couple of hours max and then released the article days later. How on earth had that transpired into this utter shirt-show? The thoughts were spiraling so fast in your mind, it was dizzying. 

"Your boss got an email this morning saying you no longer wanted to work for him, and as for your family and friends, well let’s just say I know where they are. I know your little sister's routine. I know the time your mom walks your dog, and that she does it alone.” Ransom continued and you felt the cold course through your body “You do as I say, and they're safe. If not, well, I can pick them off, one, by one, without even getting my hands dirty," he pulled back, standing over you. "So many criminal junkies in Boston, Sweetheart. Plenty who will take the fall for a little hit,” and with that he turned on his heel and walked to the door. 

The true reality of your situation set in and you felt sick to your stomach, despite your hunger. You felt clammy and overwhelmingly dizzy. He had you. If he'd gone this far, followed your family, set up a well-known actor, plotted this entire plan down to how to convince Mick you quit, in a scary short amount of time, just to get to you, you were fully trapped. 

"What happens if you lock me down here...and something happens to you?” Worry laced your words. 

He turned over his shoulder, "I don't give a fuck." And he slammed the door, the sound of the locks echoing in your room. 

In a gut reaction you grabbed the plate of food at threw it at the door where it shattered into pieces, the bacon and toast falling to the floor with it. You screamed as you threw it, for if you hadn't you'd have vomited where you led. 

**** Ransom heard the scream and the smash of the plate and paused half way up the stairs. He took a deep breath, contemplating going back down and teaching Y/N some damned manners before he decided to leave it. He’d given her enough to think about for the time being, and besides, he didn’t want to lower himself to delivering another slap to her face like he had done last night. In all honesty, he hadn’t been expecting the site of the bruise on her right cheek to unsettle him as much as it had done. Her pretty face shouldn’t be marked in anyway, and looking at it had simply reminded him how he’d lost control. Of all the things he’d done, he’d never hit a woman before, despite murder and attempted murder. It left a bad taste in his mouth all things considered and a nasty twist in his gut that felt almost like guilt. But it wasn’t guilt, that wasn’t something he did either…no, it was the fact that in all of his actions, even the diabolical ones, he’d remained calm and in control. Until last night. He’d been feral, wild even, and it wasn’t a feeling he relished. But she’d pushed him to it, provoked him. It was her fault, not his.

He shrugged on his coat and grabbed his keys, before he headed out, locking the door and climbing into his black Mercedes SUV. God he missed his beamer, but this was a lot less conspicuous, just as he needed at the moment. He slipped his sunglasses on to shield his eyes against the bright fall sun and set off towards the City.

His mother was already seated and waiting for him when he arrived at the Harbor. He walked over to her table, pulling off his sunglasses and sliding them into the pocket of his camel coat, removing his trademark silk scarf as he went. He handed them off to the help showing him to his seat, asking him to bring him a beer, and sat across from Linda, who was watching him carefully as she lounged back in her seat, properly dressed as ever in a crisp pair of black trousers and a white long sleeved silk blouse. With her legs crossed, she cut quite the imposing figure, but not to him.

Ransom greeted her with a stiff nod and she frowned and gestured to his face.

“What on earth have you done to your cheek?” she questioned, clearly noticing the scratch marks. Ransom hesitated for a second, “Things got a little rough last night, ” he shrugged but his smirk didn't quite reach his eyes. Linda let out a slight groan as she grimaced “Jesus Ransom, I don’t want to know about your sordid little bedroom antics,” she scalded. “Then don’t ask, Mother,” He drawled, not missing a beat.

“Oh believe me, I wish I hadn't.” Linda rolled her eyes.

Ransom looked down at the menu that was on the table in front of him, giving it a cursory glance already knowing what he was ordering, the same as he always did when he was here, before he took a deep breath and raised his eyes to his mother. She wasn’t one for small talk, and neither was he, so he decided to get straight to the point.

“Why are we here?” he demanded “I mean, aside from the obvious guilt driven task of having lunch with your son.” “If you're going to be a spoiled brat why did you even agree to meet me?” Linda shot back and Ransom smirked.

“What was it you always told me mom? No matter how rich you are, never turn down a free meal.”

“Snarky smart ass” Linda retorted and it was his turn to snort as her brow furrowed.

“Now, now Mother. Those frown lines are getting worse” he arched an eyebrow and she glared at him before she sighed.

“I wanted to see how you were, is that so hard to believe.” “In a word, yes.” He shrugged.

“Well, it’s true.” She reached for her glass of wine and took a sip. “I've not seen you since you moved house.”

Ransom rolled his eyes, Jesus he didn’t have time for this shit. He took a deep breath and looked at her as she eyed him expectantly, waiting for his answer “Just fine. I'm enjoying my new place.”

“So, you like it then?” Linda set her glass down and leaned back once more. “I must admit when it came on our books I thought it would suit you.”

“It's different than Kenoak, less modern, but it does the job” he said vaguely and saw her body language stiffen.

“If you don’t like it why did you buy it Ransom?” her tone was exasperated and he had to fight back the grin that was threatening to spread across his face at the fact he was riling her. It was always so damned easy.

“Well, my last place had kinda turned into a bit of a media circus.”

“Yeah, I expect that’s what happens when you're involved in a homicide” she snapped back.

“Say it a bit louder.” Ransom deadpanned “I don’t think they heard you over by the bar.”

“Believe me, that wasn’t intentional.” she held his gaze “Your Granddad’s death isn't something I find funny, Ransom. Not that it ever occurred to you."

Ransom sighed. He was starting to get annoyed under her scrutiny and really wasn’t in the mood for a deep dive into the events of the past year.

“Not of sound mind, Mother.” He said, his voice a little softer as he reminded her of the argument his brief had made which had ensured his acquittal from his crimes, hoping it would shut her up. “Remember?”

“I know son, I know.” Linda leaned over and gently lay her hand on his where it rested on the table. Ransom took a deep breath and shifted in his seat. Physical affection from her always made him uncomfortable as he wasn’t used to it, but for some reason it was heightened in that moment. He sat and pondered for a second on what he had just said. His brief had spun the line about him being under emotional duress due to his granddad cutting him out of his will and whilst there was an element of truth in it, he’d been of perfect mental capacity when he’d enacted his plan. But, if it helped his mother believe that her only son isn’t a monster then…whatever. He pulled his hand back from her and she sighed, clearly mistaking his discomfort for guilt.

 “You know, you used to be such an affectionate little boy, Ransom.” Linda looked at her hand as if his rebuttal had burned her before she shook her head and reached once more for her drink. “I often wonder where your dad and I went wrong.”

Ok, so this he could deal with. The reminder that he was a constant disappointment.

 “Hard to say.” He snarked “Somewhere between boarding school and Harvard maybe?”

She rolled her eyes “We did what we thought was best.” She set her now empty glass down. “Clearly in hindsight...”

Ransom was saved from her self-indulgent moment of soul searching by the waiter who set his beer down in front of him and asked if they were ready to order. Ransom gestured to his mother who asked for the house salad with a side of tempura prawns whilst he went for his usual, fillet steak with all the trimmings. It was obnoxiously expensive but what the hell, like he cared. Especially not when his Mother was paying...

He took a long pull from his beer as the waiter topped his mother’s glass up from the bottle that stood in the ice bucket next to their table before she thanked him and he disappeared.

“You’ve not asked me how your father is.” Linda looked at Ransom who narrowed his eyes. Why does she care about that? But, deciding it was as good a conversation change as any he shrugged.

“How's Richard?”

Linda rolled her eyes but for the first time since he arrived he noticed a little smirk flicker on her lips before she looked at him. “He’s still your dad Ransom" she reminded.

“Ok, how is my dearest dad? Still fucking the 30 year old au-pair?”

“Yes, apparently, he's taking her to the villa.”

Now that did make him frown. The Villa that they owned in Lake Gada was his mother’s pride and joy.

“Seriously? You're just gonna let him do that?” Ransom’s tone was surprised.

“I have no choice.” Linda took a deep breath “Our divorce isn't final and he's contesting me keeping the property. It's not as cut and dry as one would assume despite his infidelity, numerous infidelities even.”

“He signed a pre-nup, Mom.” Ransom reminded her and Linda nodded.

“I know, but the Villa wasn't part of it. It's the one thing he can hold over me and he's doing just that.” She took a sip of her drink and snorted “Dumb bastard has nothing so he figures why not try his luck here. Fact is, he gets nothing else.”

“Good.”  Ransom retorted, a little viciously and Linda eyed himself shrewdly.

“Careful Ransom, you almost sound like you care.” She smirked and he rolled his eyes, not gracing her with an answer. “Anyway, what are you doing with yourself these days?” she moved the conversation on “And I don't mean with women as we've already established when you sat down. Any hobbies or God forbid a job prospect I should know about?” “Aside from my love life, I’m actually writing mother, believe it or not.” He responded, amused at the visible look of shock that crossed her face.

“You're....writing?” her mouth dropped open before she hastily shut it.

“Don't sound too surprised, Linda,” Ransom let out a low chuckle as his mother rolled her eyes at his use of her name. “Granddad always said I had a flare for it. Just-” he paused for a moment before he shrugged “-well, I guess I never really used it much.”

Linda cocked her head to the side as she considered him for a moment before her face softened and once more Ransom felt uncomfortable at her change in demeanour. “He'd be proud of you. I suppose it's what he's always wanted for you, to find something for yourself.”

And there it was. The reminder that he was nothing but a trust fund prick, with no future and nothing of his own to live off. He took a deep breath, gritting his teeth slightly before he responded with a false air of nonchalance.

“I see that now.”

“Good. I'm pleased you do Son.” Linda nodded. “I'm not glad about how it all went down but...well, as dad used to say, things have a strange way of working out in the end.” It was a funny choice of words, Ransom thought, but before he had chance to dwell on it anymore their food arrived. The conversation slowed a little as they both ate, growing a little stilted in places as he told her vaguely what his writing project was about- a private detective- go figure. Linda moaned about more about his father, and then she dropped something casually into the conversation that really did surprise him, that they were planning a memorial for Harlan. 

"When?" he frowned, swallowing a mouthful of potato.

“The end of this month, possibly the first week in December. It'll be after Thanksgiving.” Linda waved her hand before she paused, hesitating a little as if she was deliberating whether or not to tell him this next bit. And when she did, he fully realised why. “It was Marta’s idea.” The mere mention of that name was enough to get his hackles up and he took a deep breath, the nerve in his jaw twitching. He looked at his mother as she watched him carefully before he looked away and took a drink of his beer. “Hmmm” was all he could muster.

“Hmmm? What's Hmm, Ransom?” Linda looked at him.

“I figured with Harlan gone she'd be out of our lives.” He shrugged, feeling his neck grow hot. That bitch was responsible for all of this in the first place, the reason he was done out of his inheritance. If she hadn’t got her claws into him none of his would have happened.

“Yes, well, as much as it sticks in my throat that she got everything maybe if we play ball she'll come round to actually giving us all what we're owed.” Linda shrugged “And that aside...it will be nice to remember him.”

The rest of the lunch passed with simple conversation, Ransom steering it well away from the subject of his family. When they’d finished his mother, as predicted, picked up the tab and together they headed outside to wait for the Valet to fetch their vehicles. His mother’s arrived first and she turned to him, the pair of them engaging in the awkward, stilted kissing of the cheeks before she promised him his quarterly check from his shares in her company should land next week. With a nod and a thanks he bid her good bye and a few moments later climbed into his own car and set off back home.

***** With a yell you sat bolt upright, taking a moment to get your bearings as you emerged from the troubled sleep you had fallen back into. Yes, you were still here, in Drysdale’s fucking basement. The tears stung your eyes as you lay back, taking some deep breaths as you attempted to ebb the panic which was setting in. Your situation was disgusting and dire, you were trapped and therefore, you knew you needed to ask for the things you needed, not wanted, just simply needed, or in time, Hugh could add you to his notch post of growing murder victims. The question was, exactly how far could you push him for anything? One wrong move, as you'd learned last night, and you'd be regretting ever uttering a syllable. But you refused to go quietly, you'd be further letting yourself down if you did. You didn't have it in you. However, just how dangerous he was or could be now was no longer lost on you, you had the physical reminder in the biting sting of your cheek, throbbing and tenderness you felt between your legs, and the slight bruising around your wrists where he had pinned them above your head. You hadn’t examined the rest of your body to see what damage he’d done, you didn’t want to.

You ached all over from being led or sat on this damned bed since you’d arrived. The chain attaching you to the bed post wasn’t long enough to allow you to stand up and stretch our your aching limbs so for now you had to settle for attempting to massage some feeling back into your calves, your eyes casting over the various tears and ladders in your thick tights which you’d pulled back up last night with trembling hands after he had violated you.

The door clicked open and your head jerked towards the door as you scrambled higher up the bed, pressing your back into the headboard. You watched as your captor strode in, a packet of Biscoff in his hand pausing as his foot crunched over the shattered remnants of the plate that you’d hurled at the door. He looked up at you, raising an eyebrow, as if he'd forgotten he'd heard you throw it this morning. 

“I don’t like cleaning up messes” He said simply as he stepped over it, shutting the door with his foot.

“Pity you killed the house keeper then” you glared at him as he shoved another cookie into his mouth.

“Who, Fran?” he asked with a scoff, his voice muffled by his food.

“How many other house keepers have you killed?” you shot back and he gave a snort.

“None.” Ransom shrugged nonchalantly “But for your information, Fran was a useless dimwit. She only cared about two things. Drugs and getting paid.”

You frowned, was that supposed to justify his actions in some way? He too only cared about getting paid and what money could do for him. “And you care about what exactly other than yourself?” you shot back. He looked at you, a smirk crossing his handsome face as she shoved yet another cookie into his mouth, chewing slowly.

At that point your stomach growled with hunger, just another way your body had betrayed since you since you had arrived and you tore your face from his, turning it to the side.

“Now are you hungry?” he asked as you realised that was probably the bastard’s plan all along. With a deep sigh you looked back at him.

“Can I have one?” you asked meekly.

Ransom studied you for a moment, tongue poking at his cheek, before he strode towards the bed and offered you the packet. You took one and stuffed it straight into your mouth.

“No thank you?”

“Piss off.” You shot back automatically, swallowing your cookie.

His good demeanour ebbed slightly as an irritated look flashed across his face. “Don’t push me, Sweetheart.” his voice was low as he sank onto the side of the bed, looking at you “I think your situation is precarious enough as it is, don’t you?”

You merely glared at him, you had no comeback. There was no comeback. He was right.

“Now if I make you something proper to eat are you gonna take it or throw it at the door again?” he raised his eyebrows “Because, frankly, you starving yourself is of no real concern to me except I kinda think you’re gonna need to keep your strength up.”

It didn’t take a genius to work out exactly what for. But you were so hungry, and the battle inside you raged on before your self-preservation mode won out and you hung your head slightly, looking at the comforter you were led on. “I’ll eat.”

“See, that wasn’t so hard was it?” Ransom smirked again.

“No.” you replied, your voice devoid of emotion. “Can I have some water too?”

“As long as you don’t throw the glass.”

“I’m thirsty.” You replied simply “I won’t.”

He nodded and stood up, offering you the packet of cookies “Have those for now.”

“Thank you.” You took them from him, your tone a little sarcastic, your eyes rolling as you spoke. He looked at you and for a moment you were worried he was about to do something about your response but he simply gave a huff of laughter and turned to leave.

“I’ll be back shortly.” He said, closing the door behind him. 

You could no longer bite back the sigh of delight as you took another of the buttery spiced cookies into your mouth. It was rich on your tongue but it was food and you were so hungry. What you wouldn't do for a cup of coffee to go with. You surveyed the room as you chewed the Biscoff thoughtfully. The earlier despair you’d felt upon waking just before he had re-appeared was slowly giving way to determination as you realised that for now practicality had to win you over. Not only did you need sustenance and water, which you knew was on the way, you also needed clothing and access to the bathroom, which you now realized you were desperate for.

So now what, you thought to yourself. The fact that he was willing to feed you despite the fact you’d launched your morning’s meal against the door meant he didn't want you dead. Mind you, if he did you wouldn’t have made it out of that fucking dilapidated house so, just what kind of a game was he playing at here? You weren't sure what his end game was if it didn't mean your certain death. You just didn't understand and felt the struggle of thoughts seep into your mind as you contemplated each step. He doesn't want you dead, but you're locked up, chained up and he's obliterated your body by force. And that was only the first round. So far he's voiced his hell bent plan on keeping you here and making you suffer. And he's done a right job at it after just the first night. He couldn't keep this up for the rest of your life, could he? No, you didn't think, but he's gone as far as to know your every day, your family's every day, detail for detail. It couldn't possibly be for ironically a ransom, no, he had plenty of money still and if you were certain, his mother was still finding ways to slip him allowances and he'd managed to get a small chunk under the table and off the record from your publishers on your behalf. So no, it wasn't for money. Did he expect a better and firm, more sincere apology? Well he sure as shit wasn't going to get one now. Stupid, spoiled fuck. You outwardly scoff at the thought. What does he want that you have? The endgame is unknown but you were in the long game now, that much was apparent. You just had to not walk into verbal traps and wait for him to reveal his hand. But you guessed just by the times you've previously had with Hugh Ransom Drysdale that his hand wouldn't be revealed until he held the right cards.

True to his word Ransom came back what couldn't have been more than 15 minutes later. He handed you a plate containing a simple turkey sandwich, a bag of chips and a plastic bottle of water. “Just in case you get any ideas about smashing it and doing me in…” he said, placing it down.

“Murder is your speciality, not mine” you snarked back biting into your sandwich as the hunger you felt won out over the need to pee that you’d felt before. It was actually pretty good. The bread was fresh, the meat succulent, both more than likely from a deli and not a bog standard store. You ate eagerly, Ransom settled in the arm chair in the corner of the room by the low coffee table, his eyes watching you. You ignored him, concentrating on your food.

“So…” you said as you stuffed the last of your sandwich into your mouth “Are you gonna keep me down here?”

“Yup” he said simply, popping the P.

You swallowed and grabbed the water, cracking the top open and draining half of it in one, your hand trembling slightly. Thankfully you avoided spilling any. You screwed the top on and placed it back on the night stand and watched with horror as he rose from his seat and crossed towards you, sitting on the side of the bed

“So, because I don’t want anything to fuck up what we got here, sweetheart, I have a simple question which you’re gonna answer.” Ransom said, looking at you “Are you on birth-control?”

Your mouth dropped open as you glared at him.

“What the fuck?” you stuttered

“It’s a simple question that requires a yes or no answer.” His expression hadn’t changed, not one bit. Cool, calm and collected, like this was something he would simply ask anyone. As you stared at his smug face, your puzzlement at the seemingly straight outta left field question gave way to anger. He was asking you this, like it was his damned right to know, like he was your fucking boyfriend by choice.

“You tell me, I mean you thought of everything or so you took great pleasure in telling me last night.” You spat. Quick as a flash his hand grabbed your face, his fingers gripping your chin painfully and you let out a little whimper.

“Answer the question.” He said simply

And then you realised, it wasn’t really that out of left field at all was it? It was clear following last night what his intention for you was and like he’d want the added complication of any little surprises turning up in around 9 months. You swallowed, your eyes looked down

“Yes” you whispered, and he released your face.

“Good.” Ransom nodded “Makes things a lot easier.” “I’m not a sex toy, Hugh.” You glared at him and he looked back at you, giving a snort.

“You’ll be whatever I want you to be.” “You’re an asshole.”

“So it’s been said.” He shrugged simply, like he didn’t give a shit. Which, as you realised, he probably didn’t. People like him never did care what they came across like, arrogant trust fund prick.

With a sigh you pinched the bridge of your nose and glanced around the room you were in, as if you really hadn't paid much attention to it's details before. Ironically, if you weren’t here under duress it would actually be quite nice. The bed was large and comfy, there was a reasonably big bathroom attached which from what you could make out contained a fairly nice sized bath tub and a separate walk in shower cubicle. There was what looked like a built in closet next to the bathroom door, a night stand which contained a reading lamp to your right and on the opposite wall to the bed in front of you there was a dresser and a small shelf fixed to the wall a little higher, which was empty. To the left of the room was a large, plush armchair behind which another lamp was fixed to the wall and a fancy oak coffee table which matched the rest of the furniture. Above the chair, was a porthole like window, hexagonal in shape, but high enough to not allow for escape but for the warmth of daylight to seep into the space. 

A fucking studio apartment, that half of Boston would probably kill to own…and you were trapped in it. Well, certainly until you could think of a way to un-trap yourself so to speak.

You looked back at him and decided to keep pressing your luck a little. There were things you needed, starting with the bathroom, and you were damned if you were going to let him degrade you even more than he already had by letting you piss yourself.

“There are things I’m going to need.” You spoke, taking care to keep your voice neutral, attempting to avoid outwardly displaying the desperation you were feeling “A pee and a shower for one” you gestured with your head to the small bathroom.

“Well if you’re gonna behave, I’ll undo this.” He reached down and jangled the chain that was attached to the shackle round your ankle.

“Clothes too…”

“The closet is full.” He said simply “But you have to behave, Sweetheart, or you go right back on the chain.

You grit your teeth. Sweetheart, you were no more his sweetheart than he was Harlan’s favorite grandchild. “Like I have a choice.”

“You do.” He said simply “Behave or not.”

You let out a frustrated growl “I told you I was gonna, now just undo the fucking dog collar on my ankle.”

“Ooh, so feisty.” Ransom mocked and you glared at him.

With a chuckle he stood up and pulled the key out of his pocket, undoing the shackle round your ankle and stood back slightly. You moved and shuffled to the edge of the bed where he watched as you rose to your legs. However, after the ordeal you’d been through the night before, plus your no doubt whacky blood sugar level, your head span a little and you staggered forward. Ransom caught you, both his hands hooking under your arms as he helped you steady yourself, his touch surprisingly gentle as his hands slid down to your ribs, thumbs brushing underneath your breasts and you looked at him, blinking. His action had caught you off guard and if the look on his face was anything to go by it had caught him off guard too. There was a moment where you stood still before you remembered exactly what was going on and with an angry scoff you raised both your hands, palms flat on his chest and shoved him as hard as you could.

It didn’t move him much, a half a step back or so, but it was enough to make a point. The unexpected softness on his face turned to anger and a split second later his right hand was round your throat.

“I'm warning you…” he snarled, his large fingers flexing causing his grip to tighten, around your throat. He gave a sharp squeeze, not enough to cut off your airway, instead serving as a threat, telling you he could if he wanted to. He released his grip as the tears stung your eyes and he moved aside to allow you to move to the bathroom. You went as quickly as you could and once you were there you made to shut the door.

Only there wasn’t one. “Why the fuck is there no door?” you turned and faced him.

“Because I won’t clean up a dead body.” He shrugged “So before you get any dumb ideas, anything that could make you think about a means to an end isn’t in this room either.”

You looked at him, frowning before you realised what he meant and you shook your head. “Oh trust me, I’m not about to kill myself over you.”

“Good.” He said simply, “You have 10 minutes” he said, leaning on the frame where the door should have been.

“You’re not watching me pee, Hugh!”

At that his face darkened “Call me Hugh one more time, I dare you, Sweetheart.” His voice was laced with venom as his eyes flashed dangerously, but despite all that you couldn’t help yourself. It was the only weapon you had in your arsenal to deploy.

“Hugh.” you spat, raising an eyebrow.

His jaw clenched and in two large strides he was on you, his hand grabbing your forearm as he yanked you across the bathroom, your feet skidding on the tiles as you struggled for traction on the floor. You yelled out at the pain of his grip but no sooner had it started it stopped as he flung you unceremoniously into the shower cubicle. Your knees and hip collided painfully with the tray and you gave a scream as a torrent of freezing cold water hit you, soaking your sweater dress. You gasped and spluttered, struggling to your feet, the cold making your chest contract and he looked at you, his face back to its stony calm expression.

“10 minutes” he repeated.

He turned to go and in a fit of rage you peeled the icy, sodden jersey dress off and flung it at him. It hit him square in the back before it slid to the floor, splattering on the tiles in a sopping mess. You saw him take a deep breath, his broad shoulders rippling under his thermal ribbed top as he stood up square and turned to face you as you stood, teeth chattering in the still cold spray in nothing but your bra and laddered thermal tights.

“You’re really testing my patience, Sweetheart.” He intoned darkly, before he cocked an eyebrow “9 and a half minutes.” He left the bathroom and headed into the main room, and you turned away instantly cranking up the heat on the shower. As it warmed you through, the water beating down on you, you reached for the shower gel which was on a small shelf in the corner of the cubicle. You scrubbed and scrubbed, not caring how much you used, attempting to rid yourself of the dirty feeling of him as you recalled his hands all over you, his cock violating you in the way it had. You didn’t stop the tears falling, your resolve breaking, as you turned your face into the spray, allowing it to hide your tears, before you washed your hair in the shampoo and conditioner.  Eventually, when you’d done everything you could, you turned off the water, took a deep breath and squeezed your hair out before stepping out of the shower. Your eyes instinctively went to the doorway and you were relieved. You couldn’t see Ransom, which meant he didn’t have an eye-line directly into the shower, awarding you some level of privacy at least.

You grabbed a towel which you wrapped around yourself, before you took another and used it to squeeze your hair before you pulled it back into a messy bun out of the way, and stepped out of the bathroom.

 “That was 11 minutes.” Ransom said simply as you emerged into the main area of the basement “I’ll let the 90 seconds slide.”

You glared at him as he sat in the armchair, his broad frame filling it, right leg crossed over his left, an I don't give a fuck look about his face, and you knew at that moment you had never hated anyone more in your life than you hated him right then. You turned towards the closet and began to route through, the tears filling your eyes again as you concentrated on finding something to wear. You pulled a few things out, checking the tags. Not only did the prices shock you (it was all high end, designer stuff- what else would the spoilt, trust fund prick buy) but it was all your size. Which unnerved you no end. Pushing that to the back of your mind, as after all in the situation you were in it was the least of your worries, eventually you settled on a simple pale blue cashmere sweater, and a pair of jeans.

“Underwear?” you turned and looked at him. He nodded to the drawers built into the bottom of the closet and you opened it, taking a breath. Of course it would all be lace, sexy. You picked the most modest pair of black, lace French-style briefs you could find and the matching bra, tossing the lot onto the bed. You looked at him, cocking your eyebrow and he mimicked the action, gesturing with his hand.

“Don’t mind me.” The dismay washed over you as you realised what he meant and you took a deep breath “You’re gonna sit there and watch?”

“Yup.” He replied simply, popping the p loudly.

You bowed your head, knowing there was no point turning your back on him, he’d just force you to turn round. As you stared to pat yourself dry though your towel, you blinked back the tears as for some reason this felt far more humiliating and degrading that what he’d done to you last night.

****

Ransom wasn’t sure he’d ever exercised self-control like this, he normally just bought (or took) what he wanted, and before he’d wanted nothing more than to trace the beads of water which moved down her neck and back, collecting in the towel as she rifled through the closet. She reached for the panties first, and attempted to shimmy them on under the towel and he gave a click of his tongue.

“Oh no doll.” He smirked, “lose it.”

She glared at him, and he simply held her gaze, not looking away and eventually he saw her shoulder sag as she reached up with a shaking hand and unhooked the edge of the towel which was tucked in on itself and let it fall to the floor. He gave a loud hum of approval as he took her in, her long-lithe legs up to her hips, the curve of her waist, pert breasts and delicate shoulders and collar bone. She swallowed on air and he watched her throat bob, and he instantly found himself thinking how good she’d look swallowing something else. He shifted slightly in his seat, the crotch of his jeans now feeling a little tight thanks to his semi-hard cock, and she reached for the lace briefs stepping into them. As she shimmied them up, her breasts jiggled a little and he gave an inward groan. For a second he thought about stopping her, taking her there and then but now wasn’t the time. They had things to discuss, certain rules she needed to understand.

Plus, the waiting and the anticipation would simply heighten the pleasure later when he finally did fuck her again.

He remained still as she pulled on the rest of the clothes before she turned to him, her cheeks adorably flushed.

“Hairbrush?” she asked.

Ransom nodded to the dresser opposite the bed and she moved over towards it, opening one of the drawers. She reached in and pulled the item out, dragging it through her hair before she braided it quickly and then turned to him expectantly.

“Sit.” He said, gesturing to the bed. She did as she was told, sinking down onto the edge of it, her hands clasped in her laps, fingers of her right hand pulling at the ones in her left nervously.

“Ok…” he leaned forward, his hands resting on his knees as he looked at her “Here’s how it’s gonna work.”

At his words Y/N looked at him, and then her hands released each other and she folded her arms, crossing her legs on the bed, chewing on her cheek with a sullen look on her face. The look of someone that really didn’t want to listen but had no option.

Such a petulant brat.

“You’re gonna do what I tell you, when I tell you.” Ransom spoke calmly and authoritatively “If I want you, I’m gonna have you.” At that she took a shaky breath but her eyes remained on his as he continued “You behave, you’ll get rewarded. If you don’t, you’ll be punished.”

“Punished?” she sputtered. “What could possibly be a worse punishment than this?” she waved her hand and Ransom allowed himself a chuckle.

Oh, Doll, you have no idea…

“Do you really want to know?” he asked, cocking an eyebrow up.

“No.” she said, hanging her head slightly.

“Smart move.” He nodded.

“Anything else?” she looked back at him, the defiance once more filling her features.

“Yes, don’t call me Hugh.”

At that she smirked and he felt a flash of annoyance “Sorry, am I amusing you?”

“Nope.” She shook her head quickly, the smirk fading as quick as it had appeared.

“Good.” He said, his palms slapping his thighs as he stood up.

“Is that it?”

“For now.” He nodded.

“Do I get to make any rules?”

Ransom hesitated, and looked at her. He had to hand it to her, she was gutsy but that was part of the reason she was hear after all. He shook his head, chuckling slightly “This isn’t a negotiation.”

“Can I ask you for things?”

“I just said, this isn’t a negotiation.” He started to get a little bit irked at her attitude now, “You behave, you get things.”

“So you’re gonna leave me down here with nothing? No TV, no books, no stereo?”

“Behave and I’ll think about it.” He replied simply and when she sighed he knew she understood that arguing and bargaining with him was futile.

Ransom Drysdale bargained with no one.

“You know…” he said, stepping towards the bed and she instantly took a deep breath, shying away a little. The fact he had so much power over her was exhilarating and he smiled, stopping a foot or so away from the edge of the bed, his large frame towering over her. “I should shackle you again, for your back chatting and slapping me in the back with your wet clothes but I’m fair. I’ll let that go. I hadn’t explained my rules.”

She blinked up at him and he nodded towards the bathroom. “Put your dirty stuff in the hamper. I’ll be back later.”

As he strode towards the door he could have sworn he heard her mumble something, something that sounded suspiciously like she’d called him a prick. He stopped, smirking, before he fixed a hard look on his face and turned round.

“What was that?”

“Nothing.” She said quickly

“Thought not.” He nodded, and with that he turned and left, locking the numerous bolts on the door behind him.

**** With a lack of anything else to do you cleaned up the water from the bathroom floor and tossed everything into the hamper like you’d been told to do and then, taking advantage of your new found “freedom” so to speak you set about exploring every single nook and cranny of your ‘cell’. You found the bathroom was fully stocked with all sorts of toiletries, sanitary products (fuck, you didn’t even want to think about what he was going to do to get his sordid little kicks when Aunt Flow came to visit in 3 weeks or so), there was a little make up as well in the drawer in the vanity unit that you’d spotted before and you pulled it out to examine it, once again finding it to be not your usual brand but high end all the same. Finding all this was only compounding your confusion as to what the hell his goal was in all this, but as you had realised before until he decided to show you those cards, you would simply be playing a guessing game.

In the drawers under your bed you found a few different sets of linen which was a relief as it meant you weren’t going to be at his mercy as to when you could change your bedding. Given what had happened the night before, you were half tempted to change them again but you hesitated and decided to wait until later, because you had a sinking feeling he was going to take you again, especially given his declaration earlier.

“If I want you, I’m gonna have you.”

If that was how your life was going to go for the foreseeable, you’d be going through a hell of a lot of bedding if you changed it every time he fucked you. Much more than was contained in the drawers anyway.

Pushing that horrible thought from your head, you took a deep breath, focussing on staying calm, staying collected, staying alive. She needed her wits, her strength, her continued ability of self preservation. And, given the fact that he's murdered before, you weren't entirely trusting his word of not wanting to kill you. You closed the drawers and then settled yourself down on the floor at the side of the bed nearest the arm chair and low coffee table indulging in a few yoga stretches and the like in an attempt to ease out your still aching muscles. You were sat on the floor, with your legs extended, reaching for your toes when he came back and with a little smirk on his face handed you a book.

“For the boredom.”

You blinked and then took it from him, shaking your head as you realised it was one of his granddads, most likely his idea of a joke. And what was more it was one you’d already read.

Nevertheless, not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, you thanked him and then stood up and dropped into the chair, opening the cover. How long had passed you had no idea, but you were a good few chapters on when the trust fund ass wipe re-emerged, and the smell of food wafted across the room. He set a tray down on the bed and jerked his head towards it, in a silent instruction for you to vacate the seat. With a roll of your eyes you tried to get comfortable on the bed to eat with said tray balanced on your knee and with an exasperated groan you looked at him.

“Is there any chance of getting some form of table and chair so I can eat off it and not where I’m expected to sleep?”

He looked at you for a second, before he shrugged “I’ll think about it, depending on how you behave.”

The chicken was dry, but you ate it anyway, remembering your earlier thoughts about staying strong. As you chewed you watched him where he sat in the chair in the corner of the room, looking at something on his phone. Having had time to think things over even more, you knew you needed to play this clever, get him on your side, let him believe that you could be trusted if you wanted to stand any chance of getting out of here. With a deep breath you supressed the desire you had to simply remain silent, sullen even and spoke.

“Are you not eating?” you asked him and he looked at you, surprise on his face.

“I had a big lunch.” He responded simply.

“Well I hope it was better than this.” You arranged your face into the best playful look you could muster “Because, no offence, it sucks.”

Ransom looked at you, before he snorted “Yeah, cooking isn’t my forte.”

“Maybe I could do it.” You offered “I’m not a bad chef.”

His eyes locked on yours and you concentrated on keeping the look on your face innocent as he studied you. Eventually he spoke again “Maybe. If you behave.”

Again, the focus on your behaviour. He clearly wanted you to be good, compliant maybe. Bolstered by the slight progress you were making into maybe understanding what you needed to do you continued. “So, did you go anywhere nice? For lunch I mean.”

“The Harbor.” He responded “Food was good, company was slightly irritating.”

“Company?” the surprise in your tone was genuine

“I met my mother.”

“Oh.” You replied, looking back down at the plate as you blinked back the tears, the thought of your own mother filling your head. She would be beside herself now. You took a deep breath, you might be able to be compliant but you were damned if you were going to show him any weakness, that’s what he wanted. Instead, you took another bite of your meal and looked up at him. “That must have been nice for you.”

“Is that sarcasm?” Ransom asked in an amused tone and you rolled your eyes.

“No, I was being serious. Mind you, you don’t strike me as being close to your family so…” you shrugged and shovelled a soggy piece of broccoli into your mouth.

“You’re smart, we're not.” He shrugged “But she wanted to know how I was getting on.”

“Bet that conversation was positively riveting.” You smirked “And that was sarcasm by the way.”

Ransom scoffed “It wasn’t bad to be honest, that was until she steered it around to Marta.”

“Marta?” you frowned, pondering what on earth could have brought their conversation around to that. “Why did you talk about her?”

“What is this Jeopardy?” he arched an eyebrow at you and you rolled your eyes. “Why not, I'll take Drysdale family politics for my share of the inheritance, Alec…”

“Watch your mouth, Sweetheart.” His tone was warning and his face stony. You swallowed and looked down at the plate.

“Sorry.” You said, keeping up your act. Silence fell again and you finished the last of your dinner and set the tray on the nightstand.

Ransom took a deep breath “Seeing as you’re so interested, Marta has approached my mother and the family about holding a memorial for Harlan.” You looked at him, and his eyebrows raised. “Ironic huh, the bitch who stole what was mine is planning a memorial for my grandad when she’s responsible for his death.”

At that you scoffed, he really was unbelievable and just like that your resolve to be nice started to ebb away at his utter narcissism “Are you for real? You’re responsible for Harlan’s death, and as for taking what was yours, you never had anything, none of you did! It was Harlan’s, you didn’t earn it.” Ransom glowered at you but you continued, shaking your head with a derisive laugh. “You know, the fact he would rather leave it to his nurse than his own family says more about you all than it does about her."

“What did you just say?” His voice was low, and there was an unmistakable flash of anger on his face.

“You heard me. Not that I expect any of that to bother you, Hugh, you do and take what you want anyway and fuck whoever gets hurt in the crossfire…” at that you gestured around the room, “prime example…”

There was a pause and in an instance you realised your mistake. You’d called him inadequate and worse, had broken one of those fucking rules, called him Hugh. His whole demeanour had changed, he was pissed. His jaw was set, his eyes dark, his entire body rigid.

Shit.

In a flash he was off the chair. You reacted equally as quick, jumping off the bed in an attempt to put some distance in between you. Why, you had no idea, it wasn’t like you were going to stop him, but maybe if you could buy some time you could talk him down as you backed toward the door. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…” but your apology was cut off as he rounded the bed, grabbing your hair painfully, yanking your braid down so your head was tilted back, looking at him. You let out a scream of pain and moved your hands to grab at his wrists “Oww, shit…you’re hurting me!”

“Like I care.” He snarled “Now, we can do this the easy way or the hard way.”

That predatory look was back on his face and you knew you were in for it again, and your apologetic front flew completely from your mind. Like hell you were doing this without a fight.

“Fuck you.” You spat back.

“Hard way it is.” He shrugged.

His hand tightening around your hair, he manhandled you into the middle of the bed easily. You yelled, bucked, lashed out but as with the previous night you were simply no match for him. He easily pinned you down with his knees clamped either side of your hips, holding you in place as he yanked your sweater over your head, pulling it down your arms so they were pinned behind you back. It was uncomfortable but did the job perfectly you realised to your horror, because you couldn’t move your arms at all.

Ransom then moved, his large hands grabbing at the button on your waistband and you continued to struggle, trying to buck your hips but once more to no avail. He had your jeans and panties down to your knees easily, before he flipped you over so your face was pushed into the pillow where it muffled your screams slightly. 

One hand reached up, sliding round the front of your neck and he squeezed. This time it was harder than he had done earlier that day, and the pressure increased and increased, slowly shutting off your airway. You gasped, tears stinging in your eye as you desperately tried to move but it was pointless. Then, suddenly he eased off, and you drew in a harsh gasp of air, coughing and spluttering, still conscious that his fingers remained around your throat.

“Stop fighting it.” He instructed, his other hand sliding over your entrance, making you pull away from his touch, but to no avail as the hand that was on your throat slid down your spine and twisted the sweater, tightening your make shift restraints, jerking your arms even further behind your back. Your upper arms and shoulders screamed in protest and you let out a little sob of pain as he moved both his hands to your hips, tugging them up slightly. One hand trailed over your ass before he plunged two fingers into you and you jerked forward at the intrusion. Ransom groaned before he leaned over, his lips brushing your ear. “I can feel you. Your body doesn’t lie, Sweetheart.”

You turned your head away, pressing your cheek into the pillow and Ransom uncurled himself from over you and you felt him shift behind you. The tell-tale clanking of a belt buckle, followed by a zip and the rustling of fabric told you exactly what was coming. Despite your resolve to give him nothing, a choked whimper escaped your mouth and you turned you face, pressing it further into the pillow in an attempt to stifle your sobs.

“Oh no…” he said, one hand curling into your braid, yanking hard and jerking your head back. You cried out, your body was contorted in such an unnatural shape, back arched, arms pinned behind your spine, head jerked back. “I wanna hear you.”

He shuffled a little, and you felt the top of his cock teasing your entrance and then without warning he powered forward, stuffing you full, letting out a rumble of a growl as he did so.

“So fucking tight…” he grit out as he withdrew, then plunged straight back in, jerking your body as he did so. He took a few more deep, slow thrusts before he picked up the pace and began to piston into you, relentlessly. You felt each thrust, the slap of his balls slamming towards your clit. It hurt, just as it had done last time. He had zero self-control, grunting and growling as he bottomed out with every motion. The hand that was gripping your hip went beyond bruising, his dull nails biting at your skin as the other wound tighter around your braid, the odd angle of your body gritting at your joints. You were fighting tears and sobs as your body continued to betray you, soaking your walls, allowing his cock to slide in and out effortlessly. The hand against your hip glided along your side as a deep thrust came and you could feel it grip your breast between the mattress. His thumb brushing against your nipple through your bra. The friction of his piston thrusts, his hand forcing your bralete against your nipples and the yank of your hair was driving your body into sensory overload and filled you with burning sensations that verged on painful. The tip of his cock scrapped at your insides, no doubt bruising you. Your tears burned and your throat begged with dry thirst.

“Can feel you, Sweetheart…” he groaned, as he bottomed out, rotating his hips slightly making you cry out involuntarily “You feel close…you sound close…such a needy little slut.”

“I’m not a slut…” you sob, the feeble protest sounding as pathetic as you felt.

"Fucking look like one to me..." he growled, his hips rotating again, the burn in your stomach was now getting to hard to ignore. “Please…” you begged, “Just….stop…”

He answered your plea by driving deeper into you, picking up his pace once more and you felt yourself beginning to tumble.

"Oh God," the words flew from your mouth as your body shook violently and you took on your overload of orgasm and sensory extremes. You sobbed as your body betrayed you again with this man. Your mind screaming for understanding, your insides begging for more.

“Fuck…Sweetheart…” Ransom let out a groan as he picked up the pace, before after a few more deep thrusts, the hand that was holding your hair let go. Your head fell forward as you felt the warm ribbons of his come streak up your back before he released his hold on your hip and you collapsed onto the bed, your heart and self-respect shattered.

Every inch of your body ached thanks to the way you’d been contorted and as you lay still, trying to regain some control of your limbs you felt his hands press either side of your head and gave a sob as he leaned lean over your body, his ears brushing your lips.

“I'll take you like that every fucking day if I have to until you give in. Because you will.”

At that the feel of his chest that had been pressing into your back was gone and you heard a rustle of clothing and then footsteps across the floor before the door opened and his deep baritone filled the room once more.

“I would shackle you but I don’t think we need that anymore. You’re not going anywhere.” His tone was almost playful, like he was toying with you, teasing you. “I suggest you take a bath, you’re gonna be sore. That is, once you manage to work your way out of that sweater.”

And with a click followed by the familiar sliding of bolts you were sealed in your prison and you finally gave in to your tears as the sheer helplessness of your situation crashed over you in waves.

****

Part 3

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