#i am not meant for that amount of consistently
Text
pancakes (pt. 7)
AKA - the story of how the naive australian rookie befriended the gym junkie F1 hospitality worker with the shoe collection - and inadvertently broke the grid's most treasured and unspoken rule: you don't go for y/n.
series masterlist here :)
the pancakes recipe here :)
A/N: here we are! apologies the schedule has been off (uni keeping me busy and am currently moving places) but we're back. hopefully. yay!
P7 - 2.5L water bottle
"Oh for fuck's sake."
The lyrics rapping over the Metro Boomin beat were cut off as you turned off your engine. You huffed spotting the asshole in green getting out of the Aston Martin in front of you.
Mother fucking Lance Stroll.
Stroll got on your every nerve from the fact that he, as a paid driver, was the epitome of what you hated about F1 and its cash is king nature of the sport. It didn't help that how he treated Hospitality workers was very telling of his personality (i.e a spoiled little bitch) but he also treated the rest of Aston Martin like that.
His engineers he bossed around. His PR team he bossed around. His fucking team principle he bossed around. You had never ever seen a driver be able to literally pick and choose what Media they wanted to do until Lance Stroll. Not even Räikkönen had gotten away with things that way Stroll did.
The worst part of it all, though, was that Lance's attitude of I can do whatever I want meant that he really thought he could get any girl he wanted.
Namely - you.
Your Supra wasn't exactly inconspicuous and Lance had been in F1 long enough to make the connection of the flash JDM cars parked in the lot tending to belong to you. And even though your windows were tinted a few shades darker than legal limit, Lance was getting out of the car right next to you. There was no chance he didn't see you or know that it was you.
If anything, he made his driver park next to your car on purpose.
"Lord give me strength." You muttered coming up to your door.
Lance Stroll had the fucking audacity to tap on your window.
You immediately got out of the car, pushing him back as you opened the door, causing him to stumble for the lack of space. "Oh, woah! Hey!" The Canadian accent pissed you off for no other reason than it reminded you of Drake. Someone else you fucking despised.
"Don't touch my car." You said.
"Oh, er. My bad. Nice looking ride."
"Thanks." You said curtly, internally cringing at how he said 'ride' like that. You went around and grabbed the vast array of things you always hauled with you. Said items for today consisted of your gym bag, your workbag, your lunch bag and your comically large 2.5L water bottle.
You always were carrying a lot.
"Need help?"
"No."
"I insist."
"Don't."
"Why you always gotta play hard to get?"
You said nothing, forcefully biting your tongue. You were out of practice with Lance Stroll's shit since Domenicali had finally relented and cut the amount of shifts you would be rostered on Aston Martin. Which had been a shame since the crew were quite good and you really, really loved Nando. Still, Lance Stroll was insufferable and you were out of practice dealing with his spoiled delusions.
Let alone his fucking father.
"I have to get to work." You said and locked your car. There was a call from some Aston Martin people for Lance but he ignored them, falling into step with you.
"I don't see you around Aston Martin anymore." He said, trying to make conversation.
You kept ignoring him, hoping he'd get the hint. Pulling out your phone, you started to compose a to text to Oscar. He would coming here with Lily and had said something about finally introducing the two of you. Based on the time, they should've been here already and could save you from Stroll.
to: piazzas 👼
where the fuck are u
lance stroll is trying to talk to me
send help
"I don't know." Was all you said, typing away with one hand as the other held a bag, hoodie, bottle and lanyard. You lifted the arm to tap in through the gate and then continued to ignore Lance - who continued to walk beside you and speak.
"This wouldn't be because you're working with McLaren." Lance said. This made you fingers pause as the blatant comment caught you off-guard. You sucked your teeth and took a deep breath. You adjusted your grip on your bags and continued to type another message.
to: piazzas 👼
srsly im gonna fucking rage at this point
"I don't know what you're on about." You said and felt relief seeing the Read time-stamp arrive below your sent message and three dots finally pop up as Oscar typed a response.
Lance made that irritating sound - his laugh. "You know my dad will pay you double what they're paying."
from: piazzas 👼
I'm at the McLaren motorhome. In a meeting with some PR.
Can you come?
You huffed and pocketed your phone. Your shift was at Ferrari today and so there was no logical reason for you to walk into McLaren. Then again, it was early and you were yet to get dressed. It should be okay. People rarely noticed you since you looked like some random trainer with the amount of stuff you always carried. Like right now.
Except, right now, Lance Stroll was not getting the hint and pissing off. Meaning you couldn't exactly freely walk into McLaren no questions asked.
Especially after that comment about you working for McLaren.
"What do you say?" The annoying idiot stood there, still waiting on you apparently.
"What?" You asked, shifting the items in your hand and pausing in your steps. You were in front of Ferrari right now and considered going in to dump your stuff before sneaking off to McLaren. That would at least get rid of Lance.
"Just say the number. How much. Dad wants you onboard and so do I. And all that legal stuff we can sort out." Lance said with a nonchalant shrug that pissed you off more than it should've. "My trainer isn't really working for me anyway."
You stared at him. Was he being serious right now? Your mouth fell open at the audacity and you glanced at his manager behind him who was looking up at the sky, clearly uncomfortable. But, of course, unable to say anything.
"Ah, Stroll! Mademoiselle is with us today!" You turned your head to the French accent of your other favourite Team Principle. Fred Vasseur arrived with one half of the Scuderia drivers beside him. Your eyes widened on the sight of Carlos there, sunglasses pushed up in the head of hair that had its own fan-accounts and was the star of many, many Tiktok thirst edits.
Fuck.
Last night, your uncle had thrown you for a loop. Carlos Sainz had somehow infiltrated your uncle's sphere with a video of him refusing to sign a Barcelona jersey. This, your uncle took as a good omen and a worth his approval.
"Approval for what?"
"None of these drivers were worth your time. Bit this one seems good." Your uncle's voice had sounded through the speaker function of your phone as you balanced a ball on your head. Hearing his voice always had you picking up a football - and Dia had never been in short supply of balls at home.
"Because Carlos didn't sign a Messi jersey?"
"His name is Carlos?" Your uncle asked and you had groaned, expecting him to make some ridiculous comment about the similar names being a good omen or something.
"Yeah. Carlos Sainz."
"Sainz? Is he's father a rally driver?"
"Yes." You had frowned, not expecting that. How did your uncle know that?
"Ah! I know him. Good family."
"What? How?"
"I want you to talk to him." Your uncle didn't relent. "Go have dinner together. He has a good face."
Your uncle's attempts to get you married to what he deemed was 'respectable man' and not, in his opinion, 'some limpy Frenchman' (you would often remind him Charles was from Monaco nor was it was like that between you two) or 'some tatted up Australian wanna be Italian' (Daniel barely identified as Italian).
However, all of your uncle's options had always been footballers which, you and Dia knew, was just a ploy to move you from car circuits to football pitches.
But last night, you found, Carlos Sainz apparently had your uncle's tick of approval and was adamant you two go out for dinner.
You took your uncle's comments to be why you suddenly found yourself feeling a little awkward seeing the driver in the flesh. That and the fact that they had led you through a #carlossainzedit deep dive unlike anything before. You lost count of how many times you'd heard the "all I see is sainz all I see is carlos sainz" version of the Rihanna lyric
"Maybe next race you can have her." The Spanish driver - who apparently had your uncle's approval - said. Carlos took a sip from the small coffee cup in hand. He was on his piccolo, you noted.
The driver came up to you and you felt yourself caught out and taken aback by him openly reaching for the strap of your gym bag and your bottle, prying them for your hands. The surprise had you letting go and once Carlos had a grip on them, he nodded at everyone in green. "See you guys on track." And put a hand on your back to guide you into the home. His clear dismissal towards Lance made you smile and it made your face warm up even more.
Your smile dropped.
What the fuck?
"Um. Thank you." You said, once you were out of earshot.
"He's an idiot." Carlos said, with a tired sigh. This made you laugh.
"You're telling me."
It was then that you realised your laugh was nervous. You cleared your throat. You were going to rip into your uncle. And then yourself for being so stupid. Because this was stupid. You barely ever noticed Carlos. What? You find out he really hates Barcelona and has really, really great hair and suddenly you're tongue-tied around him?
"Ha. Yeah. I get that. And I can hold that." You went to reach for the strap of your bag on his shoulder. Carlos moved away.
"Don't insult me." He said, tsking you with a grin on his face. "Let's go. Fred spoke all morning about your pizzas."
"Yes! I did." Fred said, reappearing with his assistant who was handing him a paper he was half reading as he spoke. "Guenther didn't let me have any last time."
You couldn't but smile, remembering Guenther's loud curses echoing throughout all of Haas when he found you plating some aside for Fred. You gave Fred a salute. "I'll get right to it. Let me just dump my things in the backroom."
"I'll take them there." Carlos said, evidently not relenting. You sighed and let him carry them for you as you both made your way to the backroom.
Unfortunately, this meant walking through the entire motorhome in which case many Ferrari staff did a double take seeing you walk with Carlos. Whilst it wasn't uncommon to see you around, nor for you to have any interactions with drivers - you literally made their food and coffee - but Carlos was holding your belongings and walking to the small backroom that were reserved for Hospitality and Cleaning staff.
"Thank you." You said, appreciating the chivalry. What you didn't appreciate, however, was how your body was reacting to Carlos.
This was your uncle's fault. (And teenage girls and their editing skills.)
Still... you didn't get why you were suddenly so... hyperaware around Carlos. Seeing driver content wasn't something new to you. Why did it affect you like this? Maybe addressing it would just help?
And so your mouth just came out with it.
"My uncle likes you."
"What?"
You quickly elaborated. "He saw a video of you refusing to sign a Barca jersey."
Your uncle had even sent you said video of Carlos, the driver windswept in his Ferrari, driving off when a fan passed him a pen and the jersey.
You had to admit he did look good in the video and the way he drove off like that had made your eyebrows shoot up, impressed.
"Your uncle... Don Ancelotti?"
"Yeah." You said with a laugh at the name. The Don. You were proud of your uncle and what he achieved, earning him such a nickname. Dia always said her brother's intimidating Don cigar smoking aura had been passed down to you - and not his own children/your cousins.
You weren't surprised Carlos knew about who your uncle was. It wasn't exactly a secret. And considering the world of Formula 1, that wasn't even the craziest connection for someone working in the Paddock. An Alpine techie was distant cousins with Mbappé, a Haas mechanic was close cousins with LeBron, and Valentino Rossi's babysister's best friend's brother was a PR manager for George Russell.
Also, apparently, you'd heard of a Haas employee who used to babysit Harry Styles. You thought the LeBron thing was cooler.
So, no. No one really paid much attention to you and your uncle. The most it had ever come up was the odd few comments of the Paddock's EPL fans coming to you lamenting Carlo Ancelotti moving from Everton to Real Madrid.
"Woah, that's pretty cool." Carlos said, his eyes widening. You knew he was an avid Real Madrid fan since last night's video had let you down something of an internet stalk.
Maybe that's why you were feeling nervous around him? You had just spent the night pouring over thirst edits over him.
"I definitely need to let my dad know." Carlos said, making you snap out of the Doja Cat/Weeknd audio edits mixed with clips of the very man before you that had saturated your brain.
"Apparently they know each other?" You said, trying to speak. Say anything. Just focus on being normal around him.
"Do they? He never said." He said. It was then that Carlos took his sunglasses off his head - causing some strands to fall across his forehead as he was looking down at you.
Fuck.
He used the other hand to run through said black locks.
Double fuck.
The man seriously could've made it as a hair model.
You looked down from his hair to meet his eyes and felt yourself flush even more knowing he'd caught you staring at his hair. You cleared your throat again - when had it gotten so dry? - and spoke. "You um, you could really make bank doing hair endorsements, you know?"
"Bank?" Carlos asked, not picking up the slang.
"Money." You explained the slang and then thought of the Spanish translation. "El dinero."
"Ah, so was it the Don who taught you Spanish?" Carlos asked, lips turning up to grin.
"Nah I don't really speak Spanish." You shook your head and explained. "I just know that word from some from lyrics and stuff."
"Stuff? From living in Los Angeles?" He asked, raising an eyebrow. You blinked, surprised he knew that tidbit about you. "I remember you telling Max about it back in Torro Rosso."
Carlos' observational skills evidently had you in surprise. Let alone that he would remember such a minor fact like this - and about you.
"I, uh. Yeah for a year and a bit. I worked in a garage." You explained, feeling more awkward and, well, something else that you refused to acknowledge as nervousness. You didn't get nervous. You had literally served countless celebrities and prided yourself on not getting starstruck or fucking nervous.
And yet, here was Carlos running a hand through his hair catching you off guard with how hyperaware you were of him.
"Ah." Carlos laughed and you stared at the way a thin gold chain glittered around his wrist. "Well, if you know any sponsors you'd recommend, let me know."
"Oh, yeah. Done." You said, going back to the previous conversation. "But I'm expecting a cut, then." You said, opening up a locker and beginning to stuff the bags into it. "Hoy por ti - "
" - mañana por mi." Carlos finished the phrase, amused. "It's different in Spanish, though, you know?"
"What is?"
"English you say scratch my back or something. In Spanish it's more about generosity. You take care of me so I will take care of you next."
"Oh." You said, taking in the mini Spanish lesson. Admittedly all your Spanish came from working with Tyler in the garage on Fairfax Ave and, of course, song lyrics. There had been a few funny conversations with Fernando - but nothing intimate such as I will take care of you.
You didn't really know what to say next. Your face was already flushed and you'd probably be able to cook something on your cheek from how hot it was.
You were going to kill your uncle.
"Also," Carlos casually continued, unfazed - or not noticing - your lull, "there's going to be a game tomorrow night. I'm not sure if you were planning to watch it."
Thankfully, his words momentarily distracted you from the embarrassment. Real Madrid wasn't playing this weekend. Atletico Madrid was. Maybe it was Carlos being from Madrid or following the Spanish league religiously but, either way, it wasn't a game you had intended to watch.
"Oh, I mean I like Griezmann." You said, referring to the famed Atletico player, "but I don't watch La Liga games unless Real Madrid is playing." Besides, if you showed any interest in any other team, The Don would have your head. Your uncle still didn't know you owned a jersey of another team. Even if it was only for Mo Salah.
"No, the Liverpool game." Carlos corrected. "They're playing Manchester United, are they not?"
This was surprising. There had been no indication in the past of Carlos ever caring about any other team besides Real Madrid - let alone being that interested a whole other league. If you ever were going to talk EPL with a driver, it was probably a passing conversation with Lewis. Maybe George if the Wolves were involved. And that was when the drivers themselves initiated the conversation.
Max, and his love for your team's biggest rival Barcelona, was who you used to talk to about football, who you used to stay up and watch games or play Fifa with.
And since that was no more, you sort of lost any passion for it.
So this was very much news to you.
Carlos Sainz. Talking to you about EPL.
More than that - asking you if you were going to watch an EPL game.
"Uh, yeah maybe." You finally spoke. During your drive to work, you had vaguely thought about changing your schedule so as to be able to watch the game. You had played around with the idea of doing a workout after your shift tomorrow so you could stay up after qualifying and watch the match.
The only issue was that this would you mean you wouldn't be able to work out before the race on Sunday - and you were definitely going to be stressed working a whole weekend at Ferrari.
But if you watched it you could stream it on one of the TVs in the driver's gym - that way Oscar could workout with you also.
Suffice to say, you hadn't yet made up your mind.
"Lando and I were going to watch it. He's a fan of Manchester United." Carlos said, looking at you expectantly. "Don't worry, I won't tell the Don."
It was that look which made your eyes widen slightly, the thought suddenly dawning on you: was Carlos asking to watch the game together?
Something erupted in your stomach.
However, your reflex to any driver interaction had immediately kicked in.
"Oh, nice. I'm not sure if I'm going to be able to watch it with the schedule. You guys enjoy, though."
Carlos opened his mouth but thankfully someone, a man dressed in the red uniform, appeared in the doorway calling for Carlos. The interruption was very much welcomed as the driver nodded and was resolved to leave you before your body gave you any more confusing signals.
You took a second, a steading second, before you slammed your locked shut and went out to look for Oscar.
-
“And there’s the young rookie, Oscar Piastri. Looking really good after his amazing win in Jeddah. 9th, outperforming everyone’s expectations!"
“Yes! He’s just arrived with his - is that his trainer?”
“She looks tough enough to be one. Wait is that — “
The commentators immediately realise and change the subject to something else to do with Fernando’s winning streak and Aston Martin’s upgrades. You sigh at the clip that had been playing on the TV in front of you. Zak had informed Oscar who had informed you about the conversations had between all the TPs about, well, you.
It was startling to say the least.
"I'm afraid people are starting to catch on." Oscar's PR Manager said with a stern look as she stared at both you and Oscar. Her name was Sophie and despite her young age putting her in the same ball-park as you and Oscar... it still felt like you both were students in trouble, being told off by your teacher.
Oscar had asked you about a Sophie Wright a few months ago. You briefly knew of the girl from her interning days, following other PR members around the McLaren motorhome over the years. She was a little on the shorter side, the chubbier side and, unfortunately, these two appearance traits meant she was excluded from the other PR girls who definitely already had a group chat going.
However, you also knew this meant she would be good at her job. Sophie could blend in the background quietly, unnoticed and do her job well. You also doubted she would easily jump around for a better opportunity and do Oscar dirty. Then there was the fact that when you served her a skinny latte one time, she made sure to read your name badge and thank you with a genuine smile.
And so you had given Oscar the thumbs up.
Never, in a million years, did you think you would be here though. Getting a debrief from her as Sophie tapped on her iPad. You risked a glance at Oscar who looked indifferent and nonplussed.
"Sorry Soph," he said, "but I'm not exactly aware what this means exactly."
There was some noise at the door and in walked Zak Brown himself. He was still talking to someone outside in the hall and said a 'yep, bye!' and then finally turned to address the room he was halfway in. "Ah, here we are. Just the people I need to see." His eyes fell on you and you shifted uncomfortably in your seat.
"No trouble at all. I know you're friends with Oscar and just wanting to help him out." Zak said, coming to sit down. "Ah, so you've seen the clips." He looked at the TV where Sophie's iPad was still screensharing the clip from yesterday.
Thursday's media days was always the least loved day for everyone - save for the bloodthirsty journalists. Drivers hated all the mundane questions and the paranoia of microphones and cameras everywhere. And you hated media day because it meant extra long barista shifts.
"Yes, Sophie showed me before but I thought Tezza should see it." Oscar explained, using your nickname. Your heart warmed at how considerate that was. You met his eyes and smiled softly at him. Your love for the kid grew daily.
"Good thinking!" Zak said, nodding agreeably to his driver. You fought to keep your face passive as you regarded the McLaren CEO.
Your opinion of Zak Brown was that he got further than he ever dreamt to get from starring on Wheel of Fortune. And whilst you did admire him for not being brought up in the snobbery and pretentiousness of the generational wealth that F1 tends to circulate through... you did note how he sucked up to the those snobs and their pretentious generational wealth.
Namely, how he did anything and everything for to make Lando Norris happy. In your opinion, it was a lil cringe at times.
"Well, the problem is that it's getting harder and harder for me to just make it out to the rest of the Paddock that you and Oscar are just friends spotting one another at the gym." Zak said. "Christian Horner is running rampant, scared you'll turn Oscar into the next Max Verstappen."
You snorted at this. Unfortunately this drew everyone's attention to you and you knew you would need to explain. "Max and Oscar are polar opposites."
Oscar could very easily become a World Champion without you. He was smart, dedicated and very talented. And whilst Max was all those things, he didn't need someone to train him up so much as tame him down after all that Jos did to him. You guys had just as much sessions on anger management as you had sessions on endurance training.
"Either way, it's coming to be viewed as a breach." Zak said. "And if you breach your contract then - "
"I know." You interrupted him. He didn't need to explain that to you.
"There's also the issue that people think you two are dating." Sophie spoke up from the front. She tapped on her iPad a few times and up came up a few screenshots of Twitter threads hypothesising about the two of you. "Your Twitter had a followed increase of 150% since Oscar followed you. Which didn't help."
"And whose fault was that?" You said, looking at Oscar with an unimpressed look. "You're lucky I deleted that shit so quickly."
"Yeah look, my bad. The timing was off." He said, accepting responsibility. You still remember all the notifications of the Twitter shit-storm Oscar set off. You literally had to delete your account because of it.
"Yes, Christian did bring that up." Zak said. "And it's a good thing Oscar's lovely Lauren is here--"
"Lily, sir." Sophie quickly corrected her boss. You wanted to groan. Oscar just looked down to hide his smile. Under the table, you kicked at his legs.
"Lily! Sorry." He gave a sheepish look to Oscar. "Yes, you and Lily this morning was a good idea."
"Unfortunately, Daniel did like a few of these Tweets." Sophie added, bringing up the screenshots of a Tweet about you and Oscar that was liked by none other than @danielricciardo.
You clenched your fist, your nails digging into your palm as you thought of how fucking petty that was. Daniel wasn't a fucking idiot. Aside from the fact that he knew your type - (admittedly, the tall/dark features combination always got you) Oscar was so young.
If anything, you thought of Oscar, genuinely, as a younger brother. As you had Max. Daniel knew that. So he knew exactly what he was doing by liking those kind of fucking Tweets. Tweets you wouldn't put past Red Bull to send out themselves.
Because, if anything, they would be praying it wouldn't be true about you and Oscar. Otherwise Christian Horner wouldn't have any leg to stand on. That was how you got around being connected to Charles, anyway. Family was the exception.
"I know your contract has you tied to only working for Red Bull and Ferrari's drivers but--"
"Red Bull and Charles Leclerc." You corrected in a tight voice, your eyes falling down to the table in front of you. "I was only granted exemption to work with Charles as he was considered family."
This caused him to frown as he pulled out his phone and began typing at it I thought you were allowed to work for Red Bull or Ferrari. No new teams."
"Yeah, no new teams outside of Red Bull and Torro Rosso. Charles was granted exemption from my Red Bull contract because he... he was considered family." You cleared your throat, not able to even look at Oscar. "I was signed for Torro Rosso. Never Ferrari."
"That's not what Toto said at the meeting." Zak said, shaking his head. "He made it seem that you could work for Ferrari." You said nothing. Toto had approached you once or twice but your none answers evidently were enough for him to realise and drop it. You didn't realise he dropped it because he had sought out the fine print.
"Wait so why aren't you Charles' trainer?" Zak asked, looking up from his phone. "He'd be insane to not have you!"
You froze. How were you supposed to answer that? For once, you had hoped the F1 rumour mill had properly run its course and Zak would know better than to ask that obvious question.
"Eh, Leclerc's loss." Oscar interjected with a casual shrug. "Let's be glad we don't need to worry about that."
The hidden meaning behind his smooth words were clear and you felt your love for the boy increase tenfold at his save.
"What - if I may," Sophie started, trying to be sensitive with her wording and her eyes darted between you and Oscar, "what were the grounds for family?"
You took a moment to think of how you might answer. You really didn't want to but if this might help the boy beside you, you would. "Charles -- I, we grew up together? I don't know. Everyone knew."
"You didn't date?" Sophie asked. Your face must've shown something very unpleasant because she was quick to amend. "I'm only saying because the grounds for family are always a grey area."
You pressed your lips together and went back to staring at the table. "There was nothing romantic between Charles and I." You said. The room fell silent for a moment as Zak tapped on his screen a few times and then he spoke up.
"You also trained Daniel. I remember he told me." Zak said and put the phone down and you wanted to roll you eyes. Of course Daniel would say that. "And I don't want to get into all the drama but you were dating him." Zak did have a point.
A key point that you had forgotten.
"I guess so." You began. "It was nothing official in print but yeah, Christian allowed me to work with Daniel since we were... well yeah." You trailed that off, awkwardly. "But yeah, it was fine even though I was contracted to Max under Torro Rosso then Red Bull."
"Hm." Zak said, bringing a hand to his chin as he leaned back, pensive, in his chair. "Well I can see how romantic grounds could be argued." He said it with a laugh, looking between you and Oscar.
You raised an eyebrow at the comment. You honestly weren't sure if this was just Zak Brown being Zak Brown - i.e saying dumb things to suck up since he was out of his element - or if he actually meant that. Either way, it pissed you off.
Because there was no fucking way you'd let that happen to Oscar.
"No it can't. Contracts aside, I'm not forcing someone I think of as my younger brother into a PR relationship with me." You said.
"It could work, though." Sophie said, taking a professional tone as you turned your glare to her. "This is what I was trying to say before. The Twitter comments about you and Oscar are not necessarily negative. If anything you've helped increased Oscar's public image and Red Bull wouldn't able to say anything about you two."
"Yeah, look guys. Tezza's pretty but not my type." Oscar finally chimed in, lighthearted. "Besides, I think we should focus more on the car and that way it's a fair advantage to both me and Lando."
You looked back at him and took a deep breath. He smiled at you, chill as always, and you took another breath. You wanted to give the boy a big hug.
"Look, Zak," you said, looking back at the TP, calming down a little more, "I'm sorry. I'm causing you all this shit."
"You got Oscar into the points." Zak waved off. "Don't worry about it. I just want to find a way that works for everyone." You sucked on your teeth. Whilst it was nice to know that Zak Brown was willing to take risks on you also wanted to know how this conversation would've gone if Oscar hadn't finished 9th in Jeddah last weekend.
Such was the way of F1.
Sophie then tapped on her iPad and the TV showed a picture taken by Ky Millman. It was of Oscar hugging you after the win in Jeddah. Some comments were displayed and you found your lips turning up as you read them. They were, as Sophie said, sort of positive.
kymillman
liked by mclaren, saintescuderia and 15'483 others
kymillman SUPPORT FOR SUCCESS! Oscar surprised many with his amazing performance in Jeddah and goes to celebrate with a F1 Hospitality worker and friend @ynusername!
view all 76 comments
halaaaamadrid girl help his shoe game pls
ln44girlieee @mclaren we need content from this duo plssss u have them right there
logansversion as if mclaren is going to post a couple?
f1fanforever they're friends?
ln44girlieee idc the level of sarcasm between them would be SO GOOD
oscarpastries i love THIS! 😫😫😫
justanotherinchident omg charles finna be RIOTING!
team44roscoes wait why would charles be upset ?? i thought @ynusername was with dannyric?
maxiel4eva_16 yeh 😒 jumping on all them aussies
You rolled your eyes at the last comment. Maybe it was a good thing you were off Twitter and had barely used Instagram in how long.
"It'll be hard to argue to make up that Oscar is family since you haven't known him as long as you did with Charles," Sophie spoke up, bringing your attention back to her, "but we can maybe try to build it up from a PR point a view."
"That Oscar and I are family and not dating?" You asked. Sophie nodded. You looked at Oscar, wanting his confirmation.
"Yeah, sure thing Vin Diesel." He laughed.
"Hey, hey. Fuck you." The grin on your face was contagious and he broke out laughing also. You liked this new idea and turned back to look at Sophie a lot more positively. You were glad McLaren gave Oscar the girl.
"Okay, so what do we do to show the world I've adopted Oscar?" You asked.
"I think you'll find my dad's already half adopted you." Oscar corrected. "He wants to see your Supra."
"That's perfect!" Sophie said, excited. "Maybe Oscar can post a story of the interaction sometime this weekend? Make sure Lily is there. Maybe you can play the tired third wheel of them!" Sophie looked at you as ranted off her ideas. You nodded, feeling tired of it all already.
Whilst it was nice to know there was a plan in place to help you and Oscar continue to work together, you didn't like the way Sophie said for you 'play' a role. The one, sole consolation you had going for you these past few years was the lack of needing to play any PR role. Hearing Sophie speak was giving you flashbacks to times long gone.
"Happy with that gang?" Zak said, placing his palms on the table. "We'll work on building the PR and hopefully that will get Red Bull off our back as we also improve the car!" He stood up and left, not joining Sophie and Oscar as they said goodbye to the boss.
"Wait does this mean I need to actually start using Instagram?" You asked.
"Yes." Sophie said. Then she looked up from her iPad. "Don't you? You were tagged in it?"
"Like, I have an account but I stopped using it. I'm pretty sure I deleted the app." You said, pulling out your phone to see that yes, there was no pink app downloaded. You pressed the download button, knowing what was in store for you.
"Download it. You're already at 1.2k followers." She said, bringing up your profile on the TV screen.
"The fuck? I had like two or three hundred last time I checked."
"Yes and then you started training the F2 winner who follower you after the most controversial Formula 1 Tweet that ever was Tweeted." Sophie said, eyeing Oscar with a raised eyebrow.
"I already said sorry about that."
"Do you know how stressful you made my first day?" Sophie asked, humour on her face. "Nothing like jumping in the deep end."
The app had downloaded and you logged on to be met with a plethora of notifications that suddenly had you overwhelmed. As such, you immediately went out of the app and put your phone in your pocket. You would deal with that all later.
"I'm not using Twitter again." You said, thinking back to the Tweets Daniel had liked. "Fuck that."
"Yes, only uses Tumblr or Reddit over here." Oscar said, pointing to you.
"Tumblr?" Sophie looked at you, surprised.
"Yeah? What of it?" You asked, defensive.
"Nothing. Just surprised. I would ask to follow you but Tumblr is the safe haven of anonymity. I get it." She nodded. "Alright, perfect. I'll draft up a PR plan. In the mean time, do you mind if I review your profile and send you some tips?"
"By all means." You said, half wishing you could give her control of it like Oscar and be done with it. You just wanted to be able to work with Oscar without causing him any trouble and not having to worry about this PR bullshit.
"Perfect!" She said, beaming.
Your phone buzzed. It was a text reminder about you needing to go back to check on some dough you'd prepared. Back at Ferrari. You sighed and stood up.
"Alright, sounds good. I gotta get back to work. Take your supplements and electrolytes. The green one." The last bit was aimed at Oscar as you met his eyes and then turned to leave the room and walk, head down, out of the McLaren motorhome.
You took a deep breath as soon as you made it into the open air. With how things were going, it was likely that you would be having another gym session today. You arrived at Ferrari and saw the back of Carlos' head. You felt yourself gulp and turned to hide behind the coffee machine. Maybe you would watch Liverpool play.
The mention of your connection to soccer was also pointed out in the room you had just rushed out of. Sophie made a small sound and rounded on Oscar, shoving something in his face.
"Did you know that half of Real Madrid are following her? Jude Bellingham just commented on the post!"
She stared at Oscar, hoping he might provide an answer. The young driver just shrugged. "She did say something about her uncle coaching a team." Sophie stared at him, incredulous. "How was I to know? I don't watch soccer."
taglist:
@eugene-emt-roe @spookystitchery @vicurious28 @taytaylala12 @c-losur3 @hiireadstuff @samantha-chicago @fionaschicken @casperlikej @bookstore-of-dreams @itsjustkhaos @sam-is-lost @laneyspaulding19 @formula1mount @bokutos-babyowl @stampiej @alilcloudy @bingussthirdtoe @sisinever @lilymurphy03 @inlovewmarlenemckinnon @charllleclerc @richardniixon @sp1rl @nikfigueiredo
#saintescuderia#pancakes#carlos sainz#charles leclerc#formula 1#formula one#f1#f1 fic#max verstappen#oscar piastri#f1 imagine#f1 fanfic#f1 x reader#daniel ricciardo#lando norris#mclaren racing#scuderia ferrari#red bull racing#lewis hamilton#mercedes amg petronas#mercedes f1#carlos sainz x reader#charles leclerc x reader#cl16#cs55#carlos sainz jr#charlos#lh44#op81#ln4
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1,500 Follower Gift Part 2: Friendly Poses VOL. 2 & 3
As if I didn't have enough work that I've given myself- I decided that not only did I want to do a followup to my first set of friendly poses... i also wanted to convert some from both posepacks to be used for kids! The original Friendly Poses posepack is something I continuously use to this DAY, and so while I was surprised that this won out in the poll amongst my most popular- I'm glad. Because I know I'll be using the hell out of these too.
and thank you to @slothseasims for the glamour shots~ ily!
Also! I recc. downloading the first set of Friendly Poses as they are some good ones :D
Friendly Poses Vol. 2 comes with:
3 Poses of 2 Adults
2 Poses of 3 Adults
3 Poses of 4 Adults (1 standing, 1 for a Sofa, and 1 for a Picnic Table)
1 Pose of 5 Adults
1 Pose of 6 Adults (for a Picnic Table)
.
Friendly Poses Vol. 3 comes with:
5 Poses of 2 Kids
3 Poses of 3 Kids
1 Pose of 5 Kids (for a Picnic Table)
1 Pose of 6 Kids
To use both of these posepacks you will need the Teleport Any Sim mod and Andrew's Poseplayer.
For one of the poses in Vol. 2 you will need @hula-zombie 's Cell Phone Accessory (Although the pose can be used without- it's meant to be a selfie thing. lol)
TOU:
-Don’t steal and claim as your own,
-pls don’t put my shit behind paywalls.
.
sfs l pat.
.
Be sure to keep an eye out next weekend for the final part of the follower gifts!
#ts4cc#sims 4 cc#sims 4 poses#ts4 poses#madebycoffee#follower gift#the good news is#the next gift is done i just need to draft the post#lol#these i had to finish up this week wHOOPS#i will probs not do consecutive weeks of posepacks again lol#i am not meant for that amount of consistently#but i do have plans for a few more things for the rest of the year :3#no ww animations tho i dont think... i thought this would be the year...#ah well maybe next year#lmao i forgot i was sharing these today#enjoy!!!!
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(10/10!)
Lay down your bets for the Gambler of Fate—
[ID: two digital drawings of kingdom hearts character, Luxord. the backgrounds are light blue, and the colors are faded.
in the first image, he’s shown looking to the side with a slightly satisfied smile. He half-squats, with both arms raised to chest height in a wide stance, one hand extended and the other curled somewhat on itself as if throwing something underhand. Beside his head, there are five cards of Fair Game, blurred with movement. His organization 13 coat flares a little behind him.
the second image is a close-up of his face. /End ID]
#kh#kingdom hearts#kh fanart#kh luxord#luxord#i like luxord a normal amount#this one is made to match the demyx one!#it's now...... a series??#i've got lineart up to xemnas and rough sketches....... up to saix....... cause i have no self control BUT#LET'S HOPE i stay consistent#it's supposed to be dynamic pose practice but!!#idk if im doing a good job but i am having fun and that's what matters *thumbs up#este señor tho idk what it is but....... dueño de mis quincenas#the one posted earlier was supposed to follow this coloring but.......#my brain decided we needed it to be full body too so i blacked out and this came out of it#pretty happy with it ngl#also i accidentally posted this for a second a couple of days ago so if u saw it no u didn't#my doods#this was meant to go up at 13:10 but i fucked up adfjsjd anyway here he is again
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The four times you fell asleep on Ghost and the one time Ghost fell asleep on you - five.
simon 'ghost' riley x fem!reader
word count: 9k (as you will see, a lot of stuff happens)
synopsis: When the mission goes south and you end up in the hands of the enemy, Ghost finds himself alone and angry, reflecting on what your presence actually means to him.
warnings: violence, graphic descriptions of torture, occasional swearing, mentions of smoking, hurt/comfort, slight happy-ending, Ghost being angry and tortured by his inner demons, military inaccuracies
notes: So this is it - the finale of a series that was initially meant to be a one shot consisting of several random fluff-filled scenes. I am actually quite satisfied with how the story turned out, although I have to warn you that this chapter is longer than usual because it consists of several pure narrative parts (background descriptions and such).
If you need therapy after reading this, just dm me the bills and I'll work something out :)
reader's callsign is Bambi (she/her)
find it on ao3 part one part two part three part four part five
masterlist
five.
To say Ghost was angry would have been an understatement. He was fuming, his heavy breathing being the only sound that filled the now-silent room. Even after half an hour had passed, the burning feeling in his chest did not fade away, serving instead as a reminder of his helplessness. He was angry at Laswell for pairing you up with the younger sniper team. He was furious with Price for his decision to not go after you the moment your radio stopped working...
But in the end, he was livid with himself for not being there to protect you in the first place.
He couldn’t shake the guilt that ate him from inside like a parasite, and as the seconds turned into minutes which would be bound to turn into hours, he felt the weight of his inaction suffocating him like he was the one under torture. Clenching his jaw, he began to stomp around the living room of the safe house. The tension in the air was palpable, thick enough to cut with a knife and, as he felt the concerned looks of the others on him, Ghost couldn’t help but replay the events of the past 36 hours in his mind.
He felt he had failed you when it mattered most, but he was determined to set things straight and bring you back unharmed.
Or at least alive and breathing.
--- 28 hours earlier
The sky was painted in golden hues by the time you left the briefing room, the morning air being a cold, yet comforting sensation that welcomed you when you got out of the main base building. Your mind was reeling with a plethora of classified intelligence and even more questions, but at least your adrenaline levels were high enough to chase any remnants of sleep away.
It had been almost a day since you left your apartment, but you weren't in a rush to go back. You would have to pack for the next mission anyway, and the given approximation of "an undefined amount of time" was an additional reason to delay the task. Instead, you went to the only place where you knew you'd find Ghost at this hour: the unofficial smoking spot of the base, named after the lack of security cameras in the area.
And there he was, perched on a plastic chair that made him look comically big and threatened to barely hold his weight. His mask was raised to his nose, highlighting a prominent jawline, peppered with faint scars and a hint of blonde stubble. Involuntarily, your eyes focused on his plump lips and the way they were wrapped around the cigarette, its burning tip glowing orange with each drag he took. His eyes were focused on a random point on the ground, but you knew he had heard you coming- his body had unconsciously shifted towards you, his legs adopting an open stance, almost as if to greet you.
"Thought you said you'd quit", you teased him in a soft tone, dragging a chair and sitting next to him. You opened your mouth to add something but were taken aback when you saw his lips curl up in a gentle smile, accompanied by a weak laugh.
There was no humour in it, but that did not stop you from relishing in the rare sight of Ghost's grin, your eyes once again focusing on the faint scar that rested on his lower lip. You didn't know the story behind it, nobody but Price did, yet that didn't stop you, Soap and Gaz to come up with scenarios of your own, one less likely than another.
"You're staring!", he remarked in a gravelly tone, blowing out a huff of smoke.
You knew it was wrong, but you secretly enjoyed second-hand smoking when he was around. He was too stubborn to let you try one of his cigarettes, always arguing about the negative impact on your health, but it was not like he could forbid you from keeping him company. The traces of smoke in his scent were an integral part of him and sometimes you just couldn't get enough of it, your lungs always begging for more.
"I'm not!", you eventually countered, taking a deep breath in. "And you did not answer the question!"
"It wasn't a question!", he argued back with a serious expression, his lips now forming a straight line.
"You know what I mean!"
You also knew that the banter you two had going on was meant to keep him away from the edge that would send Simon away and bring back Ghost. You'd already seen glimpses of him back in the briefing room when Laswell brought you up to date on the details of the mission. Just as you were witnessing Simon now, smoking half a pack of cigarettes in a desperate attempt to keep the deadly persona of the 141 Lieutenant away for as long as possible.
"Can I try one?", you went on with the distraction, already knowing his answer.
"No." - his answer was definitive, his clipped tone leaving no room for negotiation.
Huffing in annoyance, you crossed your arms over your chest and furrowed your brow, slightly scrunching your nose. He did not seem to be fazed by your childish outburst and instead, inhaled deeply, cheeks hollowing as he drew in the smoke. The exhale came shortly after, grey tendrils of smoke escaping his parted lips before he decided to speak again:
"Wanna hear something funny?"
You were already aware of Ghost's penchant for what he called "dad jokes", but what actually were just really bad puns, although, with him, they often had the tendency to turn out darker than expected. That was why you had to carefully pick your answer because you did not want to have Ghost on the bad side before going into mission - either because you refused to listen to a pun, or because of your reaction to it.
"I'm really not sure…", you shook your head, struggling to avoid eye contact.
As expected, he went on regardless of your answer.
"What do you call cigarettes you find in a thrift shop?"
A faint smirk was profiling on his lips again as he was clearly waiting for your reaction before delivering the pun.
"Go on, tell me", you eventually nudged him, rolling your eyes in fake pretence.
"Second hand smokes."
You struggled to suppress the smile that was threatening to spread on your face, but eventually, you ended up looking to the ground and shaking your head in defeat. Another low chuckle was heard from Simon, yet when you looked back at him, the cigarette butt was already in the ashtray and his balaclava was back on. You let out a deep sigh, your lips forming a pout, but you accepted his extended hand, allowing him to lift you from the chair.
"Come on, I'll drive you home. Price said the plane leaves at 1300 hours which leaves us with… exactly 6 hours and 45 minutes to get our things in order."
"Can't wait for it!", you let out an ironic huff, a shiver going down your spine upon hearing a hushed laugh in reply.
You and Ghost were in a good place. You could only hope this would last.
---
"Sergeant L/N, these are Privates Reynolds and Jones! They will be accompanying you on this mission as a sniper, respectively a spotter!"
From the instant you set eyes on him, you knew Captain Price had chosen the tarmac to make the introduction with a firm reason in mind. Perhaps it was the thunderous roar of the engines or the massive air currents caused by the propellers of the military aircraft you were about to board, but you could tell the atmosphere was intimidating enough for the two young men that they could only hold your gaze for so long before nodding their heads in acknowledgement.
"This is Sergeant L/N and she is going to be your mentor and leader for the duration of this mission", Price went on, his tone mercilessly cold.
The previous night he'd been a friendly face, "the dad of the group", as you drunkenly mentioned him in the toast, but that day he was the Captain of one of the most lethal Task forces there had been. And with that position came no room for mistakes or second thoughts.
"You will listen to her, no matter the situation. She tells you to shoot, you shoot. She tells you to hide, you hide. Hell, she tells you to come out and surrender, you do just that if you want to come home in one piece and not in a body bag!"
And he had a tendency to be slightly dramatic sometimes. Yet it was well-intended: you could only remember the "pep-talk" he'd given you before your first mission, after having placed you in the care of one of the most deadly operators you've ever seen, also known to others as "the big boy with a skull face"; that mission had gone sideways minutes after it had begun and you ended up saving yourself and the Lieutenant twice just by being high on energizers and adrenaline.
You and Ghost did not talk about that.
"Good to meet you, boys!", you shook their hands with a firm grip before nodding them into the direction of the aircraft. "You should go and buckle up. I'll be joining you soon!"
"Yes ma'am!", they answered in unison, shooting each other a cryptic look before heading in the direction of the plane.
You and Price caught that, but before being able to talk about it, you were interrupted by the big boy with the skull face himself:
"Those are the boys Y/N's supposed to be babysitting?"
Ghost was not one to mince words, even on a good day. Perhaps, at one point in the past, he had simply decided that hiding behind a wall of well-chosen words was not worth it, or he simply preferred to make himself understood from the beginning. And when opposing something, as he was at that moment, he did not bother to hide it:
"You're lucky they're not in your care!", you decided to steer the conversation in another direction. "I don't know where Laswell found them, but I bet at least one's dad has stars on his shoulders!"
Neither you, nor Ghost liked Price's lingering silence, but you didn't show it. You trusted Kate well enough to know she would have ensured they posed no real threat to your safety and the mission's success before having them join you on the field.
What actually bothered you was that it all happened on such short notice. You barely had time to bounce back from the previous assignment before having to start a new, high-risk, high-stakes one. You were aware of your limits and confident enough that you could pull this one off - but having to look after another two people you met a couple of hours before going into the field? Sure, you knew your limits, but did they know theirs?
"Stop it! Get it out of your mind, now!"
Ghost's deep Manchester accent pulled you out of your head and back into the present moment. You shot him what was meant to be a reassuring look, unaware that you actually looked like a deer caught in the headlights. It took you a moment to realise Price had left, leaving you two alone on the tarmac.
"They do anything you don't like, they act fishy - you report directly to me!"
He took a step forward, the tac vests you'd fastened on your bodies almost making contact. You pursed your lips in an attempt to hide the tremor that coursed through you and raised your eyes to take a better look at the skull plate, firmly attached to his black balaclava by messy stitches.
Just like Price, he was quick to bounce back into being the Lieutenant of Task Force 141. You were used to seeing him in full combat gear considering the big count of missions you went together into, but you couldn't help but furrow your brow at the sight of an additional Ka-Bar knife strapped in a detachable holster on his belt. And at the two fragmentation grenades attached to the same belt. But after all, he and Soap would drop out of the plane before you hit the landing zone - he would need all the additional equipment and ammunition he could get.
"Are you ready to go into the hornet's nest?", you tried to tease him in an attempt to mask the audible gulp you had to take as the adrenaline started to kick in.
"You'll have reduced it to half before I even take out my knife!", he hummed as an answer, a soft warmth glowing in his chocolate eyes.
You opened your mouth to talk back, but you were interrupted by the loud beeping that signalled you to board the aircraft. You knew you had to go, you had a tight schedule to follow after all, but neither of you seemed to want to be the first to leave.
"I'll meet you at the safehouse?"
This time you couldn't look him in the eye, pining your gaze to the ground as your voice trembled, a soft vibration that got lost in the brutal cacophony of sounds. A surprised sound left your lips when his tac vest came back into your sight, two gloved fingers resting on your chin and lifting it until your eyes made contact with his.
"I'll be there."
You maintained eye contact as his hand fumbled for something on his vest. His glance was soft and tender, just as reassuring as his words and the gloved fingers that still lingered above your helmet strap.
"And I'll want that back."
You shot him a quizzical look before feeling an unfamiliar weight in the pocket of your tac vest. Your eyes shot down to the place, catching a glimpse of his skeleton glove before setting on the crumpled, half-smoked pack of cigarettes, and a small smile tugged at the corner of your lips.
"That's an order, Sergeant!", he barked out before heading towards the aircraft. You couldn't help but roll your eyes and follow him, left hand resting over the smokes.
"Roger that, sir!"
--- 2 hours earlier
"Watcher 1 to Bravo 4-7, how copy?"
Laswell's voice could be heard through the radio, partially interrupting your watch. With mechanic moves, you pressed the communication button and brought the microphone closer to your chapped lips:
"Watcher 1, this is Bravo 4-7, solid copy! Go on for traffic."
"Interrogative, have you got eyes on the target?"
Shifting a bit under the dessert camouflage net, you peered down the scope of the rifle to check the gates of the compound. Two men with hunting dogs seemed to be on foot patrol, automatic guns swaying at their hips.
"Affirmative. Do you want me to take them down?"
It had been more than 20 hours since you got into position, yet all you were ordered to do was to keep watch and stand for future orders. Since it was not the first mission of this kind, you had expected that yet you could see the Privates getting jumpy and distracted, the two of them idly chatting between their own shared camo net.
"Negative, we expect the smugglers to arrive shortly after they switch patrols- we plan to infiltrate so hold your fire!"
"Copy, Watcher 1! Bravo 4-7 out!"
Taking one last look at the current patrol, you switched the communications on the channel you used to communicate with the two Privates. During your first mission, Ghost wasn't exactly the most talkative partner and not being able to entirely understand his intentions almost got you killed. After you got to know him better, you knew that he had been testing you and that he was always ready to step in if things went more south than expected, but nonetheless, you decided to do things differently with the two soon-to-be operators:
"Bravo 4-7-1, this is Bravo 4-7, how copy?"
You turned your eyes to the left, a frown on your face as you saw the camo net slightly shift as the radio began to crackle.
"Bravo 4-7, this is Bravo 4-7-1. Uhm… solid copy?"
"This is Bravo 0-7. Why the hell are you talking to your supervisor on the main channel?"
You couldn't help but giggle at Ghost's rough voice and you rolled your eyes at his antics. He was surely having the time of his life after having found a way to pick on the two men.
"Sorry sir… uhm, we were answering to Bravo 4-7-1 and…"
"Bravo 4-7-1, this is Bravo 4-7, switch to channel 4 and we'll continue our private chat there."
The quiet air was filled with even more crackling static and occasional mutters coming from who was probably Reynolds. Still keeping your eyes locked on the gates of the complex, you let out a sigh as you pressed the communication button again before Ghost could intervene:
"Bravo 4-7-1, use the red dial that is next to the communication button. All Bravos, sorry for the disturbance - though we could all use a small break!"
"You've got it, Bambi! How are you holding up there?"
You smiled hearing Kyle's reassuring tone, briefly accompanied by what must have been Price's laugh. Ghost and Soap would infiltrate the building from one side, while the Captain and Gaz would break in from the other- and you would keep watch and annihilate any unexpected threat, coming from the outside.
"It's all good, Gaz, all good. Just sitting my ass here and waiting for the moment I get to save yours!"
"Have you seen this ass though? Definitely worth killing for!"
Naturally, Soap couldn't help but intervene, his cocky reply being laced with a hint of playful arrogance. You opened your mouth to give him a well-chosen answer, but Ghost beat you to it. He was in full-combat mode, his stern voice being more than enough to make you bounce back into the harsh reality of the mission.
"Keep talking, MacTavish, and there'll be no rear-end left of you by the time the job is done! Party's over, get your asses back into the game!"
"Roger!"
But you still laughed after you made sure your radio was off, shaking your head in disbelief. Even when pent up on combat stress and adrenaline, you knew Ghost's pun was intentional. Involuntarily, your hand brushed over the crumpled pack of smokes, fishing it out of the pocket and bringing it closer to your face. Closing your eyes, you inhaled slowly, a deep sigh leaving your mouth. Even after a bumpy plane ride and 20 hours spent on a stakeout, Simon's scent was lingering, a silent sign of his presence.
"Bravo 4-7, this is Bravo 4-7-1, how copy?", Private John's voice could be heard through the radio, a tense silence settling in after his words. You had an inkling that they still had second thoughts on whether they were on the right channel or not.
"Solid copy, Private." You eventually decided to end their inner torment and reply, a grin forming at the corner of your lips when you heard a collective sigh from the two.
"Ma'am, we're sorry about before…"
"Mistakes happen- let that be your biggest and last one", you were prompt to cut them short, remembering how Ghost had tried to instil discipline through clipped, yet complete orders. "Now, Reynolds, tell me what you two are looking at!"
"Yes, ma'am! We're looking at two solid iron gates which are openly guarded by two mobile patrols, each one consisting of an armed man and a hunting dog. They haven't rotated in the past 5 hours, I think, so they are probably expecting to be changed soon-"
"Which also means that they might have got bored and should not be as attentive to their surroundings as-"
"Wrong, Private Johns, you are dead. Lesson number one on the battlefield, never underestimate your enemy!", you barked through the headset in a manner that would make Ghost proud. "You always need to uphold the enemy to the highest standard, not rely on their mistakes to succeed. Mistakes are occasional, but underestimating them is what will get you killed!"
The prolonged silence on their part was not a good sign and, for a moment, you wondered whether you'd been too harsh on them. But they must have known what they were signing up for temporarily joining the Task Force, so you sighed in defeat and pressed the communication button once more:
"I want you to move to the next ridge and keep watch from there. I expect detailed reports every 15 minutes from now on. Any questions?"
"No ma'am. Bravo 4-7-1 out."
"Bravo 4-7 out."
---
You started to realise something was wrong when another hour passed and the patrols were not switched, but instead doubled, with no signs of smugglers in sight. So far the main channel had been quiet and you divided your attention between the Privates' reports and being on the lookout for any signs that you've been compromised.
Your left hand was unconsciously fiddling with the cigarette pack, while your right one was adjusting the scope to focus on the road leading to the complex. Your breath hitched upon seeing a Humvee heading towards the gates and you fumbled for the communication button of the radio, bringing the mic closer to your mouth.
The sudden explosion of static coming from the radio had you almost ripping off the headset from your ears, a cold shiver running down your spine the moment you realised it.
Your radio was not working.
"All Bravos, this is Bravo 4-7, how copy?"
You could feel your heartbeat increasing at an alarming rate when no answer came and you turned to look at the place where Privates Reynolds and Johns should have been, keeping watch on the complex. Your heart dropped further in your chest when you realised the ridge was empty and there had been more than 15 minutes since their last report- still that didn't justify why they'd left their position without telling you. Were Price's orders not clear enough? Sure, your radio may have broken somehow, but they should have come and checked in with you in person as they must have been trained.
You let out a string of curses under your breath, the realisation of the imminent danger you were currently in hitting you like a bullet train. You must have been compromised, the same way the scouts Laswell mentioned had been - and your radio was not working because someone must have been using a signal jammer in the area. And judging by the absence of the two Privates, the order to retreat had already been given.
You needed to get out of there.
With rapid, but calculated movements, you disassembled the sniper and began to pack it into a camo warbag. You were slowly rolling up the camouflage net when multiple gunshots were fired on the road you had been watching. Your eyes widened in disbelief when you saw what must have been the convoy supposed to transport the weapons Laswell talked about, coming under heavy fire. There had been someone else who had known about the transport, and who must have done everything they could to get their hands on it.
And taking into consideration what they had done to the Special Forces scouts, you could easily rule out the saying that stated that the enemy of your enemy was your friend. So when you heard men hollering in what seemed to be Russian in your vicinity, you ripped out your dog tags and all the badges that identified you as a British Special Forces operator and buried them into a shallow mound, carefully placing one of Ghost's cigarettes on top of it. As the shouts grew closed, you took in a deep breath and your left hand gripped around the hilt of the extra Ka-Bar knife you kept in your boot.
With a small sigh of resignation, you accepted the fact that you couldn't outrun them without the high risk of getting killed. While the ridge you were stationed on was a good point of observation, it provided no proper cover outside of the camouflage net you've already packed and it only left you with the choice you've been trained to make and despised the most.
Surrender yourself and hope somebody will come to save you.
-- present time
"Why didn't she listen to the orders to retrea-.."
One of the Privates whose nametag read Johns tried to speak up, but his words faltered as the deadly gazes of the remaining Task Force 141 operators were set on him. And at that moment they resembled a pack of hound dogs, eager to be released on a hunt.
"Listen here, boy", Soap began in an unusually calm tone, although his tensed-up form spoke otherwise. "You and your friend here- you better pack up and make sure you board Laswell's ride, as soon as she touches ground here." His words were cold and calculated, his voice getting harsher as he went on. "See, right now we are all focused on getting back our comrade- to put it plainly, we do not have the time to deal with you leaving her behind deep in enemy territory."
He paused for better effect.
"But Lord save you once we find her because nothing will hold us back and we. Will. Be. Coming. For. You."
"That's enough, MacTavish!", Laswell curtly said as she entered the safe house. She was dressed plainly, if not for the bulletproof vest she'd donned and the usual stack of manilla folders she was usually carrying around had been replaced by a laptop she placed in front of Price and opened. "I take full responsibility for what happened to Miss L/N. As for now, she is declared as MIA."
"What do you mean, happened? I don't care what you're going to say, but I am sure as hell going to get her out of wherever she is!", Ghost couldn't contain his growl, his fingers turning white from his hard grip on the chair.
If any of his teammates noticed the sudden shift in his demeanour when Laswell declared you as missing in action, they had the common sense to keep their thoughts to themselves. All of them were stressed, angry and tired, but there was one more feeling that was bubbling in Ghost's chest, something that he hadn't felt in a long time, not since he'd been buried alive in a dead man's casket.
Simon Riley was scared. He was scared he wouldn't be able to get you in time, that he would fail to protect you when you needed it the most. He couldn't control the frantic way his heart hammered in his chest when his brain fabricated scenarios in which you were alone, cold and petrified, and it took him a great deal of what was left of his self-control not to throw caution out the window and run to find you.
Ghost was scared for you, but what terrified him the most was the thought of having to live in a world without you.
On the outside, he seemed still as a statue, his trained blank look not betraying the internal conflict that was raging inside. He saw Laswell's lips move and the laptop screen that was placed in front of him, but the lights were too bright and the colours, too saturated. He was supposed to watch a video, a drone footage, as his military-trained mind registered, but the voices in his head became too loud to ignore and the temperature in the room was too high for his liking. His breaths quickened and he felt the mask sticking to his face, suffocating him, as if he was in the coffin again, in the dark, and alone with a rotting corpse. Only it was not the body of the person who'd betrayed him, but your sleeping silhouette, gently resting your head on his chest and sighing every once in a while.
The footage from the drone zoomed in on a familiar figure who was encircled by armed men from all directions. The scene of you being taken as a hostage played in front of Ghost's eyes, but his mind did not register it as his sole focus was on your slumbering figure, the warmth of your body against his playing a big role in persuading Simon that you were actually there, with him, safe and sound.
Yet you weren't, and when he tried to brush a strand of hair away from your face he was met with the rough and cold surface of a skull plate, his fingers instantly jerking away in repulsion. A wave of nausea had him shot up from his chair and stumble to the bathroom, shaky hands fumbling with the thick mask before he could empty the contents of his stomach into the toilet.
When he opened his eyes again, he felt as if he'd been dunked in a barrel of cold water. His mind was no longer muddled with what-ifs and second-guesses, but had a clear purpose in sight: one that would keep him going until the end of the earth just to see it done. His hands no longer trembled as he pulled the black balaclava on his face and headed back to the main room, paying no mind to Soap's concerned gaze.
His eyes were cold and determined as he laid his hands on the first assault rifle within reach, methodically assembling it and stuffing as many ammunition magazines as he could into the pockets of his tactical vest. His hands itched for a cigarette, but the urge only strengthened his resolve: he would find you, even if it meant it was the last thing he did.
---
You didn't even have the energy to flinch when the fist collided with your face, sending your head rolling backwards. The world was reduced to a blurry mess, blue stars dancing before your eyes. Out of instinct, you lolled your head to the side and spit on the ground, in an attempt to diminish the metallic tang of blood in your mouth. You could still feel the unpleasant stinging that overwhelmed the left half of your face where you'd been hit with the back of a gun but tried to ignore the blood that was trickling across your cheek, all too aware of the jagged line that started near the temple and stopped short of the jawline. The bastards knew how to do their job and they weren't ones to shy away from using you as a means to an end- the future facial scar they'd given you serving as solid proof for that.
"He asked you a question, filth!"
An angry conversation was taking place right in front of you, but you were too busy trying to alleviate the pain, to focus on your captors. Sometimes, familiar words would reach your ears: american, military, information; but it was clear that they were struggling to find a way to make you talk. The questions were always the same ones, similar to what you've been prepared for in interrogation training- who were you, who were you working for, what are the Americans planning? Why has everything had always something to do with the Americans?
And just as you'd been taught in interrogation training, your answers were short and clipped- revealing little to no information at that time. You were still in the phase where they saw you as an asset, a potential source of information, taking into consideration the fact that they didn't kill you on the spot, and it was up to you to dictate the rhythm of their game. Speak too fast and too soon, they will get everything they need and kill you. Say nothing for too much time, they will see you as a dead-end and kill you.
You were currently walking the tightrope, trying to keep the balance between the increasing pain you found yourself in and the amount and importance of the information you were giving them. All you had to do was to make sure you stayed alive long enough for your teammates to find you. You knew they would take care of the rest.
"We shall try a different question then, kotyonok…" You shot your captor a cold look full of spite, not sure what disgusted you more: the mocking nickname he gave you or the pressure his fingers applied on your face, so different from the calloused, yet gentle touch of Ghost. "You wouldn't tell us your name- at least give us your codename and we might get Boris here to clean up your cheek. I know you wouldn't like that cut to scar…"
Your hands were numb from the tight grip they used to tie you to the metal chair, but you could still feel them shake when a knife, your Ka-Bar knife, was pressed against your cheek. You bit your lip so hard it drew blood in an attempt to stifle the tears that were pooling in your eyes, and you couldn't help but whimper when the blade was lightly traced against your skin before being sheathed, a heartless laugh following the gesture soon after.
You closed your head and let your head hang low, the rhythmic drip of your blood being the only sound that filled the room for a while. You could only hope you would make it through the next hours and your teammates wouldn't have to be greeted by your still-warm body.
---
Ghost was quick to follow the sound of Gaz's voice, his steps leading him to what proved to be quite a strategic place to observe the complex. A brief look at his compass confirmed the coordinates registered along with the drone footage, and even if more than 4 hours had passed since you'd been captured, his eyes were frantically searching for any signs that might lead him to you.
"I found something! She must have been camped here, there are still traces in the ground from where she pinned the camo net!"
"There was something in the footage…", Gaz started to mutter to himself, starting to hit heaps of dirt at random. "She was crouched over the earth like.. she was trying to bury something, I think?"
Not bothering to reply, Ghost's eyes began to systematically scan the area. At first glance, it all seemed the same, the desert soil not providing much diversity in terms of landscape. But you had to leave a mark behind, something subtle, yet noticeable at the same time, something that you could find only if you knew what you were looking for…
"That's bloody good work, Gaz!"
Kyle stopped dead in his tracks, eyes widening at the sudden praise coming from his usually cold-demeanoured Lieutenant. For a couple of seconds, he was too distracted to notice that Ghost had kneeled on the ground, his gloved hands digging through a heap of dirt, a white cigarette carefully placed away from the mound. By the time Price and Soap joined them, he managed to unearth your dog tags and Special Forces badges and put them on display:
"She knew she would be taken in… and that revealing her identity at a later point would buy her time…"
"That's basic interrogation training, Sergeant!", Ghost barked at Soap in an unusually aggressive way that made the Scot frown in his direction.
He opened his mouth to talk back, yet no words came out when he noticed your dog tags wrapped around Ghost's hand and the obsessive way he seemed to fiddle with them. Subtly sharing a knowing look with Price, who just raised his eyebrows in a silent suggestion to let it slide, Soap turned around and started scanning the perimeter for any sign that might point to your current whereabouts. Your sudden disappearance had a big impact on all of them, yet it seemed that it affected Ghost the most, his recent mood swings being strong proof of it.
"Bloody bastards… they smoked my cigarettes…"
Simon stomped the cigarette butts under his boot, turning his head to Price, but the Captain was already meters away, fishing another cigarette butt from the ground. Nodding his head in Ghost's direction, he brought the radio closer to his mouth and pressed the communication button:
"Kate, I think we have a lead. Well, at least a path of …smoked stubs?"
Yet before Price could give the order to spread out and start looking for more tracks, Simon already went ahead of others, pulling the automatic gun from his shoulder. Under all the layers comprising of the tactical vest and the rest of the military-issued gear, his heart was thundering in his chest. Second thoughts were already forming inside his tired mind: they really got you, they stole your cigarettes, the pack he gave you for safekeeping and that was supposed to be your lucky charm- somehow, he had thought that having a physical piece of him would keep you out of harm's way.
He could only hope he found you in time before the damage you'd sustained would become irreversible.
---
"I don't think you understand how this is working, milaya…"
He was so close to you, that you could feel his rancid breath on your face, a faint familiar smell lodging in your nostrils. Your head was throbbing, and you decided you were hallucinating- Russians didn't smoke the British cigarette brand Ghost did. Your mind must have been playing tricks on you, subconsciously wishing for the masked Lieutenant to find you faster.
"So far we had a monologue…- but I still think you have potential."
Out of reflex, you flinched when someone gripped your shoulders, but the pain your mind was preparing for did not come. Instead, you were untied from the chair and violently shoved forward. Your hands were still tied behind your back and you ended up falling face first on the hard concrete, letting out a pathetic moan that raised a few laughs from your captors.
As you lay there, disoriented and struggling to regain composure, you felt a pair of arms hooking your shoulders, pulling you upright and dragging you out of the room. You were too exhausted to put up a fight, the pain dangerously dulling your senses, but that didn't stop you from thrashing around in your captor's grip and throwing curses at him. To your dismay, he didn't seem fazed by it, his grip never faltering as he hauled you through a deserted corridor, seemingly underground, judging by the lack of natural light. You maintained your aggressive facade, yet your eyes were carefully studying your surroundings, taking in every little detail that might prove crucial, should you be able to escape.
Before you realised it, you were thrown into a dark room, yet this time you were able to cushion the fall and land on your knees. Wincing at the brutal impact, you squinted in an attempt to make out your surroundings and any potential escape routes.
"See, little one, everyone has a breaking point.."
The harsh voice of your captor broke through the silence, followed, as if on cue, by the lights being turned on. The sudden brightness had you close your eyes in discomfort, your wrists starting to turn red and raw from your relentless efforts to free yourself from the tight ropes. You could feel blood trickling through the small abrasions where the rope had cut into your skin.
"It seems plain violence is not yours. Not even cresting your pretty little face… I will tell you a secret, you might not live long to keep it anyway, but that is the breaking point of many- ladies and men both."
As he went on with what you decided was a well-rehearsed discourse, he started walking in circles around the room, almost like a predator circling its prey. The intimidation technique was not foreign to you, yet you did your best to morph your face into a scared and hesitant expression, giving him what he wanted to see: a person who was on the verge of breaking, someone who should be kept alive for a little more.
"So I thought to myself- the doll does not work alone. Maybe we should bring one of her friends here and see who gives in first."
If you weren't busy maintaining the terrified mask, you might have laughed at his weak attempt to extract information about your teammates. He was trying so hard to be menacing, yet he didn't know that you had been trained by the Ghost himself, who had drilled all possible interrogation scenarios into your mind. You made a mental note to thank him if you ever got out of there.
"But then I remembered we had a special room we haven't been able to test yet."
His voice grew closer and closer. Keeping your eyes glued to the ground, you focused on the blood that was dripping from your face, staining the concrete floor crimson. When he exhaled in your direction, you could clearly feel the smoke of Ghost's cigarettes wafting towards you, your hands clenching in fists at the audacity he possessed. You opened your mouth for the first time, if only to give him a piece of your mind, yet you barely had time to register him roughly grabbing you by the collar of your shirt and violently dragging you to the middle of the room.
"And if this doesn't break you… do not worry, we will find something else!"
You could barely make sense of his words, his unveiled threat, before your head was forcefully shoved into what you made out to be a basin. Piercing-cold water enveloped you from all sides, and panic surged through every fiber of your being when you realised that there was a firm grip on the back of your head, preventing you from pulling out. Your throat burned with each passing second, and your vision gradually darkened as you struggled to stay conscious, your body going limp on the edge of the bathtub.
"After all, we have all the time in the world. No one will find us here… not when we are right under their noses."
---
It took them one hour under the scorching sun, but the members of Task Force 141 had managed to discover the Russians' hideout. Following the cigarette butts eventually led them to a camouflage net, one which Ghost almost ripped away when he recognized it as yours, and they ended up staring at the entrance of what was supposed to be an underground bunker. The few guards that were lingering around didn't know what hit them, a blood-splattered skull plate being the last thing they'd seen before collapsing to the ground.
As he carefully threaded through the dimly lit corridor, Ghost's demons had never been so loud. On the one hand, his feet were urging him to bolt, to sprint through every room and hallway and find you as quickly as he could, but on the other hand, he was still part of a team with whom he shared a common purpose. Ditching them would be highly dangerous and irresponsible and it would help no one in the end.
Yet all common sense jumped out of the window when the silence was shattered by a high-pitched scream followed by a loud string of curses, both in English and Russian. Simon barely waited for Price's curt order to go before he bolted in the direction of the commotion, swiftly incapacitating any man who was foolish enough to get in this way.
At that moment, he didn't even need the mask to become one with the Ghost- the primal need to protect you overtook his senses, the chaotic surroundings fading into the background as the singular purpose took hold of him. When the automatic gun ran out of ammunition he simply threw it away and lunged for the rifle strapped on his back. When he ran out of throwing knives, he openly jumped on anyone who got in his way. He did not hold back, being quick to send his opponents staggering backwards and crashing into walls or doors. His objective was clear - to create a diversion, a way to distract attention from you and put an end to the torment you must have been going through.
He didn't even bother to check if the door was unlocked before kicking it to the ground, unaware of the splinters that lodged themselves into his gear. When he registered the lower half of your limp body, beaten and bruised, he saw red. Dropping his rifle to the ground, he let out a feral growl as he launched himself at the man standing in the middle of the room, who was staring at him wide-eyed, fumbling with the safety of the gun he was holding. Blow after blow rained upon him, each strike being filled with a mix of madness and rage that Ghost had struggled to contain within himself throughout the day. The Russian, unable to defend himself from Ghost's fury, was crouched in a fetal position, whimpering and sobbing, just like you did hours ago, yet Simon's assault did not seem to falter. He was determined to make him feel at least a fraction of what you've been put through.
Until he realised that there was no other movement in the room, that you hadn't crept up to him and assured him you were fine like he secretly hoped you would. He was almost scared to look in the direction of your still-limp body, his blood running cold at the sight of you leaning against the edge of a water basin, your head still submerged in the water.
Simon had often fantasized about what kissing you for the first time would be like. It was a small comfort he liked to indulge in whenever he would try to go to bed and sleep wouldn't find him. Where would you be, how would your lips feel when pressed against his? Would it be gentle, or wild and passionate? What would you say to him afterwards? Would you regret or do it again in the following moments?
He definitely did not expect your first intimate contact to be on the cold, hard floor of the torture room, with your lifeless body hanging limp in his arms. He ripped his gloves away from his hands, searching for your pulse with trembling fingers and the relief he felt upon feeling an irregular, yet faint heartbeat, had him peel the mask from his face and discard it on the floor. Without wasting a second, he tilted your head back gently and sealed his chapped lips against yours, trying his best to breathe life into your still body. Your skin was cold against his fingers and he could almost feel his heart stop beating when he realised your condition was not improving.
Ghost was not a religious man, yet he started to recite the only prayer his mother ever taught him when he pressed his hands against your chest and started the compressions. Hot tears started rolling down his cheeks as he counted the compressions, lips trembling as he kept chanting your name again and again, urging you to open your eyes and wake up.
A choked sob left his mouth when you gasped and started coughing, your body twitching against your will. He was quick to roll you onto your side, gently patting your back in an attempt to help you expel the water lodged in your throat. His vision was still clouded from the tears, but that did not stop him from cradling your shaking figure in his arms, resting his head atop yours. He could feel your erratic breathing and your heartwrenching sobs, but all he could do was hug you tighter and try to reassure you, even though his voice was breaking:
'It's alright. They won't be hurting you again… I'll keep you safe!"
You didn't know how long you stayed in that position, but you were convinced you had been so deprived of oxygen that you started hallucinating. Somehow, you were absolutely convinced it was Ghost who was holding you tight in his arms, your cheek being squished against a tactical vest that could only be his, judging by its specific scent. Yet the sight of a head of dirty blonde hair made you scrunch your forehead in confusion. Why was he not wearing his mask? Your eyesight was still too blurred to make out the features of the person who was holding you, but you could trace the contours of his face in your sleep, even though you could count on your fingers the number of times you had seen them before.
Breathing heavily, you lifted a shaky hand towards his face, scared that if you moved too suddenly, the spell would break and you would be once again pulled out of the basin and asked the generic set of questions you've been asked for the past half an hour. But when your fingers made contact with Simon's cheek, softly threading through his stubble and tracing the deep scar that almost split his lip in two, you let out a breath of relief, a warm wave of comfort washing over you. Your tired mind took note of the foreign voices that were mixed with Simon's reassuring whispers: there was someone repeatedly asking whether you were okay, someone talking over the radio and someone asking for med-evac. Yet the sudden commotion only made you nuzzle your head against Ghost's chest, letting out a sigh of relief as you finally allowed your eyes to shut closed, the constant thought of finally being safe serving as a temporary balm to your wounds.
The base's hospital was no different in any of those regards, yet Simon had spent the last days inside its four walls, camped out on the armchair Price had arranged to be brought into your salon the moment you'd been transferred from the municipal hospital.
---
For someone who had spent a good part of his life in hospitals, Ghost hated them. He couldn't stand the pungent smell of chemicals or the hushed conversations that took place in the brightly lit corridors. The constant beeping of the monitoring devices would drive him insane and he detested the cheap food.
Ghost hated hospitals, but he hated being away from you even more.
So he had resorted to spending the last three days acting both as a makeshift nurse and a guard dog for any of the curious passers-by who would try and peek at the operator who had been captured by the enemy and survived torture. Soap, Gaz or Price would usually join him outside working hours, trying to make small talk or urging him to eat the take-out they bought him, but he would only leave your side for bathroom breaks and showers.
He spent the rest of the time next to your sleeping figure, lying still in the armchair and keeping his eyes glued to you. Every once in a while, he would zone out and find himself counting how many times your chest went up and down, totally unaware of the heart-rate monitor that was placed right next to him.
For the time being, Simon was grateful you'd been filled up with painkillers and still sleeping. He couldn't wait for you to wake up, but he wasn't mentally prepared for it: it wouldn't be like before when you fell asleep on him and woke up feeling slightly ashamed, but refreshed, a soft smile lighting up your face. This time, you would wake up to a body full of bruises and a new scar marking your face- and he had no idea what he could say to help you get through it.
Simon was not a man of words, so he decided to convey his feelings through actions and gestures. His moves were well-rehearsed as he emptied the glass of water he'd filled a couple of hours before and refilled it to the brim, placing it on a table next to your bed. His gloves had been long gone by the time he changed your blanket with a fresh and soft one that Soap had brought the last time he came in. After he ensured you were comfortably tucked in, Ghost busied himself with rearranging the flowers and the get-well-soon cards that had already been neatly arranged at the edge of your bed.
After there was nothing left for him to do, he eventually dragged the armchair close to your bedside, removing his mask with slow and weary movements. The dark circles that had formed under his eyes were a stark contrast against his pale complexion, and the stubble he'd neglected for the past few days threatened to turn into a full-grown beard. Yet that did not stop him from exposing his face in your presence, his tired mind arguing that perhaps the sight of him might pull you out of your head, at least temporarily.
A heavy sigh left his body as he laid his upper body on your bed, his head carefully resting on the top of your hand. Out of instinct, he nuzzled his cheek against the soft skin of your palm, relishing in the warmth of the contact, and draped one arm against your body, gently pulling you closer to him.
Minutes passed and his eyes gradually fluttered closed, his soft breaths slowly mingling with yours. He would never admit it out loud, but especially after the events of the last mission, the sole way he could fall asleep was in your proximity, only finding solace in the warm feeling of your touch. It may have taken him a while, but he eventually came to the realisation that it was in your arms that he felt safe, where the turmoil and chaos of the outside could temporarily be forgotten. And he was determined to keep it that way, no matter what it took.
---------------
more notes: do you guys would like a bonus part, say, an epilogue for this? I'm thinking of something like "the one where they finally get a bed" or something... let me know in the comments (or ask box if you'd like to remain anonymous)
taglist: @neoarchipelago, @thecorruptedlovely, @mitchlow, @fieldsofbats, @thaprilks, @stars-andfreckles, @that-napa-know-how, @preistinajamjar, @iamaliceinwonderland, @allaboutirem0, @lilpothoscuttings, @01trickster10, @yyiikes, @joanne-uwu, @dorck26, @wawuwe, @karagd13-blog, @rindulacre, @claibornc
#cod ghost#ghost x reader#simon ghost riley#simon riley x reader#ghost mw2#ghost x you#simon ghost x reader#call of duty imagine#ghost fluff#task force 141#simon ghost riley imagine#simon ghost riley x reader#simon riley x you#mw2 ghost
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I'm making this post purely to shout out some incredibly talented fanfic writers from the Hazbin Hotel fandom and my favorite works of theirs.
Did anyone ask me for this? No. Will I post it anyway? Absolutely. The writers in this fandom are too good.
The first fanfic writer I want to shout out is @prince-liest (ao3 link)
I absolutely love their get cared for idiot (Alastor) series (not the official name but they called it that in one of their asks jokingly so it's now the default in my head).
Knock, Knock! It's Your Worst Fucking Nightmare! (this fic gets it!!!! This is what I meant when I said Alastor is growing a heart and part of him is raging against it. He still has ulterior motives and a massive amount of pride and part of him feels like that growing fondness is getting in the way, but he can't stop it. I need to stop before this becomes a long ramble. I've written a couple thousand words on this idea, but this fic is just a better use of your time than any meta I could ever write and way more entertaining :D )
Happily Ever After, and Other Shit Nepotism Can't Buy
The Last Bus Stop in Hell, Now Boarding (Please look at the tags for content warning. Angel and Alastor body swap story.)
They're amazing at balancing on that razor's edge with Alastor where there's a heart in there (really deep) and he's unintentionally growing attached to the hazbin crew, but he doesn't lose his edge. He's still manipulative and an asshole and can easily be the scariest guy in any room. He's in hell for a reason. A+ characterization at all times.
They're so good at writing the complicated dynamics he has with the residents, especially Charlie, and I enjoy how they expand on Alastor's potential dynamic with Angel Dust.
Anything they write from Lucifer's POV is gold too! My favorites are:
Take Two and Leave a Voicemail!
The Care and Keeping of Homo Angelus
I am also 100% here for their Aro!Alastor agenda and I'm enjoying their fic I Love Her, I Love Her Not so far!
The second person I want to shout out is @grayintogreen (ao3 link)
Their series Red Roses and Dead Things consistently gut punches me.
Just like Princeliest, they are also fantastic at balancing on that razor's edge with Alastor. A+ characterization for everyone and I love how they write HuskerDust. It's so soft, especially in the aftermath fic for Learn that Even Death May Die called If My Love Is Tomorrow, I've Forgotten Yesterday (that fic hurt in the best way).
The way they explore the aftermath of Learn that Even Death May Die is incredibly impactful. They capture the unique grief that comes from the reality that there are some things you won't get closure for so well that it's painful.
I can't say enough good things about their series. Genuinely go read it.
I found @lediz-watches (ao3 link) before the first season of Hazbin Hotel dropped (I've been a fan of the hellaverse for a few years now and have been enthralled with the Hazbin Hotel pilot since I first watched it in 2020) and I really enjoy their fics.
My favorite is Suffering Kindness. I love the Charlie and Alastor dynamic they explore in this story. I think I'm just a sucker for the Charlie and Alastor dynamic in general, but this fic hits all the right notes for me. (written pre-season 1 but man is it good. 100% recommend)
LeDiz also has a lot of one-shots/collections of one-shots that are very fun.
The Cure for Inexorable Boredom
Dollface (one-shots about Alastor theories. My favorite is the 3rd one. So fascinating!)
Choice Words (one of the few explorations of Alastor and Vaggie's dynamic that I've found in the fandom)
Don't Say It
I have to shout out @ckret2 (ao3 link) and their phenomenal fic You’ve Got a Face for Radio. This is such an amazing aroace!Alastor fic. (Embarrassingly it was this fic that made me realize I was most likely aroace myself. I’d had fleeting moments of suspecting it but it wasn’t until I saw my experiences laid out in a character explicitly written to be aroace that I put the puzzle pieces together. -_- some of these passages were too relatable.) I cannot express how much I love this fic.
I also like their fics Dumpster Baby and Bitter Grapes.
I have one last writer I want to mention because this is getting really long (whoops). The last one is tiredoflofteranditsshit and their Assume He Has a Heart series (because my favorite character and how I interpret them was not obvious enough already with the fics/authors I've recommended. I had to make it more obvious).
These fics are massive (17k and 26k words) and so much fun. Definitely worth the read. Yet another series that follows up season 1 and explores Alastor’s growing connections and how he lies to himself and pushes against it. Love this series and there’s a lot to sink your teeth into :D
#hazbin hotel#Hazbin hotel fics#alastor#hazbin hotel alastor#the radio demon#angel dust#husk#huskerdust#charlie morningstar#I love all of these fics#these writers are all so talented
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Sweet Sister (Aemond Targaryen x Velaryon!Reader x Jacaerys Velaryon)
AN: Oh gosh guys. I did it. Thank you to @zaldritzosrose for being my workshop partner (I also got the amazing dividers from her) and to my spiritual twin @foxyanon for reading a bit of it when I needed to make sure it was okay. Also this snowballed very hard very fast I am sorry.
Masterlist here!
Summary: It wasn't the fault of them that this was their lot in life. Aemond and YN could only make the best of a marriage they did not particularly want. Yet Jacaerys does not see it as an obstacle. The gods made her for him. She was meant to be his.
TW: Language, characters are over 18, AFAB reader, use of YN in 3rd person pov, use of she/her pronouns, SMUT SMUT SMUT, oral (fem!receiving), a smidge of dry humping, lactation kink, tiddie sucking, masturbation, cuck!Aemond, threesome, Dom!Jacaerys, switch!Aemond (mostly veering on subbing), sub!reader, pregnancy kink, breeding kink, Jace's monster cock, NO DANCE, canon typical Targcest, Jace grinding his cock on Aemond, Jace cumming on Aemond, cum eating, spit, political marriage, Jace kinda teaching Aemond to proper fuck his wife, I think that's all
Pairings: Aemond Targaryen x Velaryon Niece!Reader, Jacaerys Velaryon x younger sister!Reader
Word count: 6.2k
It wasn’t his fault.
It was a thought that lived consistently in her mind in the years since her marriage. Both of them offered to each other’s mother as a solution to the growing rift between them. A marriage made in desperate hopes to avoid an ever looming annihilation.
It was good, she supposed, that it was to a man she was so familiar with. Her Uncle Aemond, while never particularly warm, had always been kind enough. He usually spared her the vitriol he shot at her brothers. Even when making it clear he knew the truth, he was less violent in his hatred. Queen Alicent raised him to be better than that.
A spat between boys here and there was acceptable, expected even. Training together, he got plenty of chance to beat on them, to spill the vile whispers that invaded his ears. Nobody but Ser Harwin ever said anything, but Aemond figured it was only because he was too stupid to pretend as everyone else did.
YN was different. Between his mother and Ser Criston, he knew that every woman was meant to be seen with a certain amount of respect. Despite who her father was, or wasn’t, YN was a princess. She was not like her brothers, who antagonized him at every step. And so he would hold his tongue.
As children, they were polite to each other. If he and the Velaryon boys were arguing, he went quiet when she would walk into the room. He would hold the door for her and in the same motion let it slam on Jacaerys.
It was this politeness that allowed Alicent to see reason. She couldn’t marry her only daughter to one of Rhaenyra’s sons, yet the King made it clear that it was his will their lines would converge. She made a counter offer to Rhaenyra’s, Aemond wed to YN. The Princess of Dragonstone denied for many the same reasons The Queen denied hers. But the Driftmark Incident all but forced her hand if she wished for Lucerys to remain unharmed as a consequence.
He was a good husband to her when they married not long after her coming of age. He stood by her side at court, always keeping her close. Over the moons they spent at each other’s side, a natural affection was felt between them. It may not have been a fairytale romance, but he at least could be counted as her friend. And for a girl who was without her family for the first time in her life, a friend was exactly what she needed.
It wasn’t Aemond’s fault that they were still expected to provide children to their line. They held off as long they could. Yet as they approached two years of marriage, rumors of infertility started hanging over their head. He could not bare to leave his wife to such scrutiny. It was only then they started laying together as husband and wife.
The affection they felt gave a solid foundation for their relationship in the bedroom. It was an awkward beginning in which he would blush every time his hand grazed her breasts and a small squeak would leave her lips when she saw him naked. Aemond, though, was a man of proficiency. He always planned to be the best in everything, the need in him increasing tenfold upon learning that bringing his wife to orgasm increased her odds of becoming pregnant.
“You looked lovely tonight at dinner,” he commented as they came from dinner.
“Thank you, husband. Your words flatter me always,” she told him.
He opened the door to their suite, the warmth of the fire already having filled the living space. When the door closed behind them, she let out a noticeable breath of relief. She always preferred the peace of their suite.
He stepped closer and began to unlace her gown. She reached behind her as he did so and took a hold of one of his wrists.
“Are you nervous?” he whispered. She hadn’t been nervous with him in months, but he always asked.
“Grateful, I suppose. For a husband like you,” she told him. Her dress fell to the ground in a pool around her ankles. She had forgone her slip and so she now stood naked in front of him. “I must admit though, today I am eager. I feel as though soon I shall be pregnant.”
He gave a small smile even though she could not see him. “A darling mother you shall be. How many do you wish us to have?”
“No less than two,” she told him. “So I hope you do not mind continuing this for a few years yet to come.”
“Never, my sweet niece. After all, I do still enjoy myself as a man should when I bed you.”
Satisfied, she released his wrist entirely so that he move as he wish. A feather light kiss to her shoulder as he began to undo his pants. A hand roaming the front of her body from behind, grabbing and squeezing to elicit soft little hums of approval from her. With his pants off, he stepped closer to her.
“Settee or bed?” he whispered in her ear, his hard cock pressing firmly against her ass.
“Settee,” she whispered while a shudder moved through her. Within a heartbeat, he lead her to the sofa near them.
“I want to make sure my seed takes in your womb, little wife,” he whispered in her ear before he helped her into position.
His touch traveled from her hip to entangle itself in her hair. She turned her face to him to allow a single kiss before he pushed her head roughly onto the settee’s cushion. Any sound she made was muffled by the cushion, but it was how they preferred.
The blood rush provided by his delicate fingers created as many desires in her as it sated. Any looks of love he would give her would be fake, they didn’t love each other. Yet when his nails raked against her back as he prepared to grab her hips, she knew she was lucky in this.
His left hand rested along the curve of her hip, fingers digging into the soft flesh to hold her where he wanted her. His right hand moved between her thighs before finding their home in her folds.
The fabric where her mouth was pressed warmed against her skin as she let out small, repetitive moans. In the months since their first bedding, his fingers had become experts at a quick orgasm. He would flex his thumb to rest against her pearl with fluctuating pressures in time with the speed of his middle and ring fingers thrusting into her cunt.
Her thighs trembled as Aemond curled his fingers, coaxing her orgasm ever closer. A faint sound of her moaning made it to his ears as her walls tightened around the digits. She came hard, only getting a second’s reprieve before his hand moved away and it’s presence replaced by his long cock.
His hips repeatedly moving into her turned him into a desperate man. Watching himself disappear into her cunt while her ass melted against the muscles of his lower abdomen was a sight made of sin. She was soaked around him, her juices dripping off his cock.
Aemond was a restrained man until he was on the precipice of orgasm. It was when she felt his fingers return to her swollen pearl and his hips start to stutter that she cried out. She could feel him pawing at her back, his once anchoring grasp becoming a desperate touch. His movements were no longer careful and considered as he rubbed his thumb eagerly against her pearl and fucked into her with abandon. She could feel the tension begin to build within her as she whispered his name into the cushion again and again.
She came for a second time, squealing into the cushion as she attempted to move forward. The pleasurable band that had snapped inside her belly increased how much she felt tenfold. Every movement of his cock was like the sweetest torture. The head pushed against that spongy spot inside of her, making her whimper with every brush. Her walls gripped even tighter, like he was the missing piece of her.
He groaned out her name as he released his spend, ropes of white coating her walls. She was certain, as he pulled out of her while trying to steady his breath, that this was it. This would be their luck.
Within two moons she had confirmation she was pregnant. She wrote letters to her family immediately upon telling Aemond. Together, they would walk to Her Grace the Queen’s apartments and tell her she would once again become a grandmother. One would think they had divulged the secrets of the universe with the way the Queen became so overjoyed.
She was approaching her fifth month of pregnancy when her family returned to King’s Landing so that her mother could take the Throne. With the passing of King Viserys, many had anticipated war. But neither Rhaenyra or Alicent wanted to risk losing their grandchild. If war had broken out, both knew that the baby would be torn between the desires of both it’s parents. That was enough.
YN stood in wait for her family alone at the Dragon Pit. The peace was tense already, and they had yet to arrive. But one by one, the elder members of her family landed on their dragons in front of her.
A journey by ship would take too long when there was a throne to take. Her mother dismounted Syrax with grace befitting a queen. Her eyes though did not fix themselves to her mother, instead the new Prince of Dragonstone capturing her full attention.
“My sweet sister,” her older brother said once he dismounted Vermax.
Jacaerys looked at her like she was his favorite toy. Two years her elder and that had never changed. She was his little sister, the one he knew the gods crafted from the heavens specifically for him. It was everything he believed to be true. She was meant to be his Queen, to be his.
That is why he was never too worried about her betrothal to Aemond when it was announced. Jace knew he didn’t necessarily need to be her first husband. Men run away or die every day, leaving their families behind. Knowing his uncle meant knowing how perfect the one eyed man had to be. He anticipated Aemond running away the moment he proved to be subpar at being a husband.
And when he did inevitably run, when he did abandon his wife, all Jacaerys needed to do was be there. He had told YN her entire life how he adored her, how he would give her a crown and a throne and nobody would doubt his devotion to her. She would be his equal in every way once he was King. No marriage to some lesser standing man would change that.
“Jace,” she said with a smile on her face. She closed the distance between them and wrapped her arms around his neck.
He was sturdy, lean but firm. There was no sway in his body when she all but collided into him in her excitement, her small bump pressing against him. He held her just as close.
Even her pregnancy could not dissuade him from believing they were meant for each other. Jacaerys knew she would have children from this marriage, he had long prepared for that reality. But this child was as much of her as it was of Aemond, and he would love every part of his beloved sister.
“You are stunning, my queen. The babe is not too much trouble, I hope?” he asks when he pulls away. But only enough to look at her.
“Oh none at all. The little bug has only just began kicking,” she told him.
“I was more referring to your husband, but I am grateful your pregnancy has been easy thus far,” he told her with a smirk, creating a giggle she could not hold back.
His eyes look over her face more times than he can count. He had never seen a beauty such as hers. From the way her lips stretched as she smiled, to the little furrow in her brow as she watched him look at her, to the subtlety of her eyes shining with a joy he doubted she had for years. Everything about her captivated him.
As his eyes raked further down her body he was a man in love. Her breasts already were beginning to swell with milk, looking deliciously full and ripe for providing his pleasure. The bump was small, he knew she wasn’t too far along just yet, but seeing evidence of a child growing inside her was enough for him to feel like a man gone mad.
His cock began to swell under his trousers. He could not resist pulling her in for another hug just to be able to rut against her for a mere moment. It was subtle, discreet, one would be forgiven for thinking it was the embrace of a brother who missed his sister. She knew what he was doing. She could feel his bulge pressing through his skirts and against her heat.
“I have missed you dearly, my queen,” he whispered in her ear.
“I have missed you as well, my dear brother,” she whispered, hugging him tighter to her.
Pregnancy had a way of clouding her judgement. She desired more than just this juvenile attempt at some relief. And while it was true Aemond would tend to her when her hormones became too overwhelming, there was a difference. Aemond was her husband, the man she was legally bound to. He was the father of the babe cradled safely inside her. He was allowed.
Jace was her older brother. Adore him as she might, he had no true claim to her. They had risked enough the night before her wedding when he made her ride his thigh to orgasm. It was his way of ensuring she knew pleasure before he would get the chance to properly give it to her. But now, to even do this was a slap in the face to her husband and an affront to the gods.
He pulled away, completely this time, and smiled at her. “Your presence has been missed deeply, sweetling.”
And with no other words he stepped away and allowed a proper greeting between her and their mother.
With Rhaenyra’s coronation and subsequent restructuring of the Small Council, life remained hectic for months. Rhaenyra was smarter than her father as a ruler, she understood that the only thing that posed a threat to her rule was the ambitions of one man in particular. The best way to remove such a threat was to understand the ambition and give it only enough power to remain useful to her.
Her first act? Removing Otto Hightower as Hand. He was still on the Small Council as Master of Whisperers, as he was a man best kept close and an expert of intelligence. In his stead she placed Jacaerys until such a time he was married and would move to his seat of Dragonstone. It would give him opportunity to learn the workings of ruling the country that would once be his. As a way to create good faith between her and her brothers, she offered them positions as well. She would appoint Aemond as Master of Laws, as she doubted there were any who knew more of Westeros’ histories and laws as him. And for Aegon she created the position of Master of Celebrations, offering no further explanation before he accepted.
Being as her husband was preoccupied with his newfound duties, YN spent many nights alone. The babe, due in the next month by now, made her ache and weep. It was all she could do to avoid such pains. If it wasn’t her back or hips hurting, both from the weight of her stomach and the way her body prepared for labour, it was the way her breasts were already filling to the brim.
Her only comfort was found in her baths. The water ran so hot it would be uncomfortable for many. She had the blood of dragons coursing through her, she carried a dragon inside her. A little extra heat did nothing to dissuade her.
In fact, she was sitting on the bed, waiting for her maids to bring forth the water needed. Her hands massaged her aching breasts to attempt to provide any relief for her. As such, she was hardly covered by anything. Only a thin sheet laid draped over her lower half.
There was a knock on the door. She beckoned them inside, assuming it was her maids. Yet when she opened her eyes, there stood Jacaerys. Her eyes widened slightly, though she made no grand attempt to hide herself.
“My sweet, are you okay?” he asked her softly. His voice was filled with a love she had mostly forgotten.
“Pregnancy is hard on the body, at it turns out,” she joked as he came closer to her. It was then she pulled the sheet up further, now hiding her breasts.
“And your husband is not here to attend to you,” he commented. He sat in front of her on the bed and repositioned the sheet, exposing her breasts and pregnant belly to him.
“He does as he can. His duties have been weighing more as of late, though, so I am typically asleep by his finishing hour,” she told him.
“A dutiful wife. Never speaking ill of him,” he whispered.
“He has been good to me, Jace. He cares a great deal for my safety and happiness. Better to me than I believe many would have been,” she said in response. Her words were soft and genuine. She bore no ill will for Aemond, truly she did not. And she would not pretend she did.
“I am grateful you were granted such a kindness by the gods.”
His hands moved now from the sheet he stilled gripped to roam her stomach. The babe kicked at his touch as if to say hello. The two chuckled at the sensation.
“She has never kicked so eagerly before,” YN told him.
“She?” he asked with a quirked eyebrow.
“Call it instinct,” she shrugged, smiling at his hand on her stomach.
“She has a fiery resolve, just as her mother and her mother before,” Jacaerys told her happily before leaning forward and placing a kiss to her stomach. “Such a beautiful mother already, my queen.”
“You are too good at your flattery, brother,” she whispered.
“Is it flattery if it’s true? Is it flattery if just the sight of you, swollen with a babe and practically dripping milk, make my cock harden?” he asked, looking up at her with his chin rested on her stomach.
When her jaw slacked and her lips parted, he knew he had her attention in the way he needed. He moved up her body, pressing gentle kisses along her stomach and breasts as he did. Her uptick in breathing was bordering on panting as she watched him. His mess of curls tickled her skin just as his lips did.
“Can’t wait until it is my babe in your stomach. But I will love this one just the same,” he murmured against her skin.
“I am married, brother,” she whispered as she attempted to move his head away.
“You think the gods care for the law of man when they have crafted you for me?” he asked. His body did not budge at her insistent nudges.
“Jacaerys,” she whispered.
His hand flew up to grip her wrist. It did not hurt but it was a former grasp than Aemond ever had. In a moment her hand was being held to the mattress by his own, his head unmoving. His face was nestled comfortably in the crook of her neck where he inhaled deeply.
“You know you were made for me, little one, just as I have known it always. And you said yourself our uncle cares for your happiness, yet where is he? Why does he not tend to you as you prepare for him the greatest gift?” he murmured against her neck.
“He is busy,” she whispered, her eyes fluttering shut as he once again inhaled her.
“The gods themselves would have to bind me to the earth in order to keep me from putting my cock in you whenever you needed,” he told her before nipping at her skin.
His free hand found it’s way to her left breast. She whimpered a bit under his touch, the pain she felt earlier mixing with a pleasure from how much he desired her. She could feel his smirk against her neck as he began rutting his hips against her lap. His hardened cock pressed painfully into her thigh.
She should tell him to move. She knew he would respect her desires. But how could she focus on any desire she held save for him? She had always loved Jacaerys as he loved her.
Her first memory was of Jace promising her she would be his Queen. He doted on her from the moment she was born. He had always told her she was his, made for him by the gods to be his perfect match, even after her betrothal. And while she understood the role she was meant to play in keeping the peace, she believe it too.
“What is this?” Aemond’s voice said from the door.
YN was about to answer him, to insist that despite what it looked like she had only been waiting for her maids to draw her bath. She could only hope he would understand. Instead, Jace sat up. He smirked at his younger sister before turning to face Aemond, his hand never leaving hers.
“I am doing your job, since apparently you do not find my sweet sister important enough,” he said to the blonde man.
“Do not speak to me of my wife,” Aemond said darkly. “She understands the nature of my position.”
“You do not speak to me of my sister,” Jace commanded. “She is beauty in all she is, she is carrying your child, and yet you do not wait on her hand and foot? Instead leaving her to rot in this room while you pour over your books and scrolls.”
“I am a prince you do not get to speak to me this way,” Aemond said angrily, though not as loud.
“And I am Prince of Dragonstone, Heir to the Iron Throne!” Jace all but shouted. “I should have your cock removed since you do not use it as you should! Send you to the Wall for daring to deny my sister an existence of gluttonous pleasure!”
Aemond silenced himself and looked to his wife. His wife who, until this moment, he wasn’t aware could look at someone with such a burning desire. But she looked at Jacaerys the way he had once hoped they would looked at each other, when he thought there was hope they would love each other. He could see that for her, Jacaerys hung the moon and stars.
“Close the door and sit in that chair by the window,” Jace told Aemond.
Having no choice to comply, the older man did as asked. There was little doubt in his mind Jacaerys would send him to the Wall if for no other reason than to have YN to himself. And so, he shut the bedroom door and took a seat in the chair.
The bed was close enough he got a perfect side view of his wife. He could admit the sight of her displayed in such a manner stirred something inside him. He could feel his cock twitch at the sight of her full breasts, her rounded belly, but mostly? It was the way she wasn’t even concerned with him.
Her focus was solely on Jacaerys now. Her brother was back to pressing kisses against her body. It was the first time Aemond could see the faces she made with the slightest pleasure. How easily her face contorted the second Jacaerys took one of her nipples between his teeth was a sight he wished he could commit to memory.
“Some ground rules,” Jacaerys said after pulling away from her breast. He looked to Aemond. “Sit in that fucking chair until I tell you you’re allowed to move. Answer me when you’re spoken to. Stroke your dick or whatever, just do not leave that chair.”
“And if she asks for me?” Aemond asked him.
“She won’t,” was all Jacaerys offered him. But it was enough to make YN whimper beneath him. Aemond flushed as his cock twitched once again, hardening with every passing second.
Jacaerys turned to YN, smiling down at her. “And you, my beautiful, darling, sweet sister…all I want is your permission to love your body the way it is meant to be loved,” he said. His voice with her was soft and tender as opposed to how harsh and angry he was with Aemond.
“Jace,” she whispered. She began to turn to Aemond, but Jacaerys gripped her chin and kept her gaze on him.
“No, my queen, it is not about him. It is about you, and us. About you belonging to me, if you wish,” he whispered to her. His brown doe eyes made her melt before he sat up, finally releasing her hand to he could grab the bottom of his shirt.
All she could do is nod. She was speechless with the sight of him pulling off his shirt. His toned abdomen caused a gush of her arousal to pool between her legs.
She felt heat flood her cheeks when he removed the sheet from her lower half. Her face felt even hotter when he pushed her legs apart, eyes locking in on her cunt.
“Such a pretty pussy, baby,” he praised her, hands rubbing the inside of her thighs. “Doesn’t she have a pretty pussy, Uncle?”
For the first time, YN looked at him. Her wide eyes were heavy with lust. In all the nights they had spent together, he had never really allowed himself the chance to take in the beauty of her face. He wanted more. Needed more
“Yes,” was all he could manage to say. His eyes moved from her face to where Jace was touching her. In almost expert fashion, Jace removed his pants. His cock was longer than Aemond’s, thicker too. As husband and wife stared at the monstrous cock, they both couldn’t imagine how it would fit.
“Have you drank from these tits, Uncle?” Jace asked Aemond without turning his eyes from her pussy. He smirked at how wet his sister was, feeling more desire in him than he had ever felt before.
“Not yet,” Aemond choked out. His self restraint was out the window now. He pulled his cock from his trousers and gripped it in his hand.
“Seems fitting, I suppose. You were the first to fuck a babe into her, I shall be the first to drink from her,” Jacaerys smirked at the idea of claiming a part of her Aemond had not.
He laid his cock in between her slick folds, allowing it to rest against her clit while he leaned down and began suckling from her. His left hand held one tit while he suckled from the other. Her sweet milk flowed freely past his eager lips and onto his greedy tongue.
He moaned against her as he ground his hips against hers. Her slick aided his cock in sliding between her folds and creating a friction that caused her to whine out. She couldn’t hold the moans from her lips.
“Fuck,” Aemond whispered. His pupil was blown wide as he desperately stroked his cock. Pre-cum beaded on the head just to continuously be wiped away by a swipe of his cum.
With a loud pop, Jacaerys pulled off her tit. He kissed her hungrily. There was nothing he needed more than her. He couldn’t help himself. He pulled his hips back just far enough to readjust, pushing his cock into her. She groaned into the kiss, feeling the burn of stretching around him. His hips stilled when his cock was seated half way inside her.
He broke the kiss after several moments. He looked between her lips and her leaking tits. His cock throbbed at the sight.
“So beautiful,” he whispered. “So fuckable. So perfect on my cock.”
“Yours, Jacey, yours,” she muttered. She made a pointed effort to ignore her husband whimpering in his chair. The thought of him so hard at this sight made her pussy flutter around the cock inside her. “Want your fucking cock, Jacey. All of it.”
He kissed all over her face as he pushed further into her. She cried out his name repeatedly, moaning, begging for more in the same breath she cried it was too much. Jacaerys nearly busted inside her in that moment. Her full tits moving with just the slightest snap of his hips, her cock drunk expression written on her face, her pregnant stomach pushing against him.
With her beautiful sounds as encouragement, he began fucking into her with abandon. All that mattered to him was how perfect she felt around him. Her walls squeezed around his cock in a quiet desperation to keep him inside her. With every stroke, the tip pushed against the spongey part of her walls, causing her to cry out his name. She was more sensitive in her pregnancy, allowing for her orgasm to build quickly.
“Fuck, fuck,” she moaned out as the band inside her snapped and her orgasm washed over her entirely.
The gush of her release flooded over his cock. He wanted to hear her moans every day. It was all he could think about as his balls, heavy with his load, slapped against her ass. His grunts and groans of pleasure drowned her out until finally he cried out her name, spilling his seed deep inside her.
“Stop,” YN commanded Aemond after a few seconds.. He looked to her face desperately, obediently stopping his furious tugs of his cock just as he was on the verge of his own release.
“What do you wish, my queen?” Jace panted, pulling his still throbbing cock from her.
“Eat your spend from my cunt. Then when you pull away I wish Aemond to begin to fuck me, and you spit your seed into his mouth,” she told her brother, never looking away from Aemond. She watched as his cock twitched with anticipation. “I think that is what my husband wants, too.”
Jace smirked at her once more before looking to Aemond. “Come over here, then. Naked. My Queen wishes to enjoy you.”
Aemond had never moved so fast in his life. As Jace moved down his lover’s body, YN took her husband’s hand. It was a small moment of intimacy neither had allowed themselves before. Until tonight, a certain part of them remained duty. But now, there was no pretending.
Jacaerys lapped eagerly at her clit once he found his home between her thighs. She squirmed under his careful tongue, whimpering his name. Aemond felt desperate now, to make her replicate those sounds for him.
Jacaerys pulled away from her right before she came again. She was breathing heavy, eyes wide, as she looked down at him. Without breaking eye contact, he reached beside him and grabbed Aemond by his cock. Wordlessly, Aemond allowed himself to be lead, occasionally bucking his hips into Jacaerys’ hand. YN moaned at the sight.
With Aemond in position, his cock firmly pressed against her entrance, Jacaerys grabbed his uncle by the jaw and squeezed. Aemond instinctually opened his mouth. The brunette looked to his sister, who at this point was rubbing her own clit, before turning back to Aemond and spitting the mixture of his seed and YN’s release onto his waiting tongue. Just like a seasoned whore in Flea Bottom, Aemond swallowed eagerly.
“Tell her thank you for the gift she has bestowed in you,” Jacaerys whispered in Aemond’s ear. His hand moved to grasp his uncle’s cock, giving slow, lazy tugs. Between the heat of his wife’s pussy all but begging him to fuck her and the firmness of his nephew’s hold, it was almost painful to not begin to fuck her at a reckless pace.
“Th-thank you, for giving me a child,” Aemond stuttered out. Jacaerys began grinding against Aemond’s hip, his cock hardening with every passing moment.
“Apologize to her for not satisfying her enough,” the future king demanded. His eyes watched his sister’s fingers rubbing furiously against her clit, her body trembling. And then they traveled up her body. “Tell her what a goddess she is.”
“Such a goddess,” he whispered, looking down at her. “I am a fool for not worshipping every moment.”
“Mhmphh,” Jacaerys breathed out as he rutted against his uncle. “Slide your pretty cock into her and beg her to keep you. Beg our Queen to decide she wants to keep you when I marry her.”
As soon as Jacaerys’ hand fell away, Aemond buried himself to the hilt inside her pussy. But his hand was not unoccupied for long. He batted her hand away from her clit and replaced her fingers with his. He rubbed the sensitive nub in time with his thrusts against Aemond’s hip.
“Do not cast me aside,” Aemond begged her, his hips moving at breakneck speed as he pounded away at his wife’s pussy. “YN, my wife, please. Keep me by your side, fuck, fuck, and and I will worship you.”
“Slow yourself, match your thrusts to mine. Deeply,” Jacaerys whispered his ear. Aemond was quick to adjust his speed. He wanted to make both of them happy.
“Fuck,” YN whined out. Her thighs were trembling uncontrollably as once again she approached orgasm. “Want both of you. Want to be Queen. Want to be both yours,” she begged the two men. Her back arched as she screamed out, their names tumbling from her lips in a jumbled mess. Both men tried to maintain their movements as she rode out her eye.
Jacaerys came first, still sensitive from his first orgasm. His sticky spend painted Aemond’s pale hip before beginning to slide down the taut muscles and onto the mattress below. Aemond followed sooner after, his seed finding home deep inside his wife.
The three of them were breathing heavily. Jacaerys stepped back off the bed, finding a cloth so that he could wipe off Aemond’s hip. By the time the blonde prince had pulled out, his cock had softened. But neither man could avoid staring at her pussy as it leaked cum.
Aemond laid beside his wife, Jacaerys on the other. She giggled and pulled a sheet over their bodies.
“We shall wed in the Valyrian tradition, and our Uncle and I shall take turns fucking babe after babe into you,” Jacaerys whispered as he kissed her cheek.
“It is against the Faith, the law,” YN reminded her brother.
But Aemond saw the frown on her face and knew how much she wanted that future. And he wished for it too, wished for more nights in which the three of them could spend together. Something inside him shifted as he looked at the two of them. What was once a marriage to his dearest friend was now more. It was a chance at a happiness he would never have allowed himself.
“Lucky for us, we know the person responsible for the law,” he murmured as his hand rested on her stomach. “And I have it on good authority he wishes nothing more than to allow us this pleasure.”
She looked up at his face, her gaze soft. “Truly?” she whispered.
“Jacaerys is right. I have been a fool. A fool for not realizing the beauty that you are, the wonderful thing you are giving me,” he leaned forward and kissed her forehead. “And this was the happiest I have ever seen you.”
“It is the happiest you have ever been either, dear husband,” she pointed out. “I have never seen you so responsive.”
Jacaerys rested his own again against her stomach, his finger tips grazing Aemond’s. “I am glad to have seen it from the both of you.”
“Marry her. And we shall all be together as we were tonight,” Aemond murmured. Jacaerys chuckled. “What?”
“Oh next time, I’m fucking your ass while you fuck her,” he smirking. “Or maybe we should see if both our cocks could fit in her.”
“Oh, I think she’s definitely a good enough girl to let us try. Aren’t you, my wife?”
She nodded eagerly before leaning up to kiss him. He hummed against her lips for just a moment before she pulled away and kissed Jacaerys.
When she pulled away, both men moved as close as possible to her and held her.
“I love you, sweet sister.”
Taglist: @alexagirlie
#aemond targaryen#jacaerys velaryon#aemond targaryen x reader smut#jacaerys velaryon x reader smut#aemond x reader x jacaerys#house of the dragon#aemond targaryen smut#use of yn#reader insert
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Hey Lissie! Another Hamilton 5+1 for you because I love the format, hehe. Straight to the point, here it is:
5 times Y/N woke up without Lewis and one time they woke up together.
I can definitely see a potential for angst and a bit of misunderstanding or yearning?! Lewis can either be a f1 driver or have it as an AU with another job! The prompt needs a good reason of “why” for the absence and I am more than certain your mind will come up with a brilliant answer. I am thrilled and again, have fun!
𝐌𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐘𝐨𝐮
Lissie note… I love this prompt so much ugh!!! I changed it a slight bit to falling asleep rather than waking up (just for dramatic effect). Thank you for the prompt, love<3
Things to note
Reader is a paralegal
Lewis is frequently gone for races
They’ve been dating for 4~5 years and live together
There is a tiny age gap but it isn’t that bad
Pairing: Lewis Hamilton x gf!reader
Warnings: Slight angst???
Word Count: 5.3k+
Playlist recommendations: 𝐋𝐇𝟒𝟒, 𝐀𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭💔, 𝐅𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟💗
Taglist: @allwaysalleyway, @drugged-kitkat, @darleneslane, @littlesatanicassholebitch
His arms were warm. They were comforting to lie in and snuggle into. He trailed his fingers gently through your hair, as you slowly dozed off.
That was a dream.
The cruel reality of the real world, in the form of an obnoxious iPhone alarm, woke you up. It was already 6 AM, and your routine consisted of a hefty amount of self-care. This meant that you had about 10 minutes for a shower, 50 for hair care, and 30 for skin and makeup. Breakfast was out of the question. So much for self-care.
Before you left, you made sure to feed Roscoe and give him his well-deserved cuddles. Things had been hard ever since Coco passed, but Roscoe was still a happy spirit.
You went to the garage, noticing your boyfriend’s all too famous purple Mercedes. Your heart stung for a second, but you brushed it off. It was important to support his endeavours, instead of sulking about him.
You decided to go with your vintage beetle. Driving around in it was what kept you grounded. You’d gotten it for your 18th birthday from your parents. Not from your lover.
The fact that you didn’t quit your 9-5 paralegal job was also rationalizing, you didn’t stay home and leech off of your rich man. He was more than just a wallet. He was your partner. Besides, the media had already started to suspect that he wasn’t single anymore. Though he hadn’t been for years. The two of you had met coincidentally over a cup of tea with your boss. Lewis was his client and you were the first to oversee the situation before handing him off. That was about 6 years ago. For four, the two of you had been together. You had only given him your number regarding his case, but he’d taken the opportunity to ask you out.
Now, the two of you lived together in a mansion overseeing a large forest. It was quite far from your workplace, but you didn’t really mind. Having to wake up early was a small price to pay for the tranquillity of the surroundings. Although it would’ve been more tranquil, had you had more time with your lover.
Alas, there was nothing you could do about it.
1 | Shades Of Cool
You sat there on your dreary chair in your dreary office. The white walls hypnotized you into thinking time was going much slower than it actually was. You stared away at it for a while, before someone knocked on your door.
“Hey, can you please do these briefs? I need to clock out for a dentist’s appointment in a few minutes. I promise I’ll owe you.” You accepted the pile and started going at it. Work usually made you forget the empty feeling of not seeing him often. Sometimes you even thought of staying all night. However, for Roscoe’s sake, you never stayed past dinner time. He couldn’t be alone for too long. It wasn’t fair to the poor boy.
It took hours and hours to get through the pile. You clocked out well past midnight and stopped by a pub to pick up some food before driving home. You knew a huge “sorry” was in order for your dog. He hadn’t seen you for several hours, definitely missing you.
You had 12 missed calls from him. Even though he was on an entirely different continent, he somehow found the time to call you. 12 times no less. You decided to call him back after finishing your dinner and making yourself comfortable next to Roscoe on your sofa.
“Hello, love.” You heard from the other end of the line, as he turned his camera on. There he was. His exhausted, but beautiful face. His hair wasn’t tied up. It was relaxed and so was he.
“Hey, Lewis,” you said and turned on your camera, showing yourself next to his beloved dog,
“Roscoe’s here too.” He let out a huff, which stirred a chuckle out of your boyfriend.
“How’s work? How are you doing?” He asked, knowing that you dreaded most of your coworkers if not all. Additionally, he knew that every day was the same at the office. You handled briefs and got files in piles by your superiors. It sucked.
“It’s okay… same old same old. How’s Spain?” You were so used to staying in the UK, you’d forgotten what it was like to travel. As a paralegal, you didn’t have the luxury to do so that often.
“It’s great. Did you see the videos I sent you? This car is incredible, darling.” You hadn’t seen them for one very specific reason; your heart would clench. It would simply give out at the sight of your boyfriend. Missing him was always a big problem, but with races being back-to-back… it hurt that much more.
“I haven’t had the chance to yet, no, but I’ll check them out later.” The hesitation in your voice must’ve been apparent, as he decided to ask into it,
“Something wrong?” You didn’t want to worry him, so you told a little white lie. You were simply just tired. That was it. That was all. Knowing him, he’d worry too much to focus on driving, which was the exact opposite of what you wanted for him. Besides, it’d be selfish of you to make his work all about yourself. Gosh, you really couldn’t stand your obsessive thoughts.
“Well, I promised Valterri I’d meet him at the gym. Sleep well, darling.” You blew him a kiss goodbye before shutting off the feed and turning over. Roscoe huffed and curled up beside you. It was dead silent except for the few wind rustles you heard from the open window next to the TV. It didn’t feel tranquil. No, you were lamenting the thought of being alone for so long. You hated it. It wasn’t an issue during the day. You had chores and you had work to do, but in the evenings when everything always gets quieter— your mind gets louder.
Roscoe was sleeping soundly next to you. Your hand stroked him gently whilst you scrolled through your Instagram feed. Naturally, you ended up on Lewis’ page. He was highly selective of who he was following. You, however, were amongst the few that he did. A smile spread across your face like room-temperature butter would be spread on a piece of bread. You didn’t appear much on his feed, as you liked being private. Though the posts you did appear in, all had captions with romantic undertones. You really were in love with that man.
I can’t break through your world, ‘cause you live in shades of cool…
2 | Sad Girl
The sun had already come to greet you. It was an early Saturday morning, which would’ve been peaceful— had you not forgotten about the LSATs. You woke up on the sofa that you’d passed out on the night before. Dried drool decorated the corner of your lip. What time was it? You checked your phone, only to realize that your battery was low and the test was in an hour. The sudden sound of your phone ringing sent you scrambling to answer it.
“Hey, are you on your way? I studied all night… Hopefully, we can do this.” Your friend, who usually sat in the cubicle opposite you, whined. She wasn’t a strong test taker, based on the fact that it was her 5th time taking the LSATs. 7 and she’d be all done. No more chances. In comparison to her, you were going in for the first time. You’d studied, but you had no idea how the whole thing would turn out. The tests only got harder and harder every year.
“I am, I am. The traffic is just insane at the moment. I’ll see you there.” You hung up and swiftly ran around the house to get ready. Roscoe was reasonably confused at the rush you were in. You kissed his wrinkly forehead before shutting the door behind you.
For nostalgic reasons, you decided to take Lewis’ purple Mercedes. It was the only one of its kind, so it’d make sense if some people recognized it. You didn’t care. It felt like Lewis was still with you, even if he was in an entirely different country. Speak of the devil, your phone buzzed. One message from him… “Good luck with the LSATs, darling”. Your heart clenched. You missed him so.
Traffic turned out to be light and breezy. Luckily, you made it in time for the test. Being a paralegal had its benefits, but it was and would always be a step below the real deal. You weren’t a real lawyer until you took the LSATs. Then, there was the deal with the bar exam as well. That was another story.
“Did you do good? I croaked. I’m toast. I’ll have to take it again…” said your defeated friend and munched down on her lunch that she brought.
“I don’t know. Maybe? I don’t really care at this point…” Of course, you did, but your mind was too occupied by the absence of your lover to hold an actual conversation. He expected you to tune in on his races whenever you had time to do so, but the fact of the matter was— you never could. It made your heart ache with longing. A painful longing for him to come back home. Especially on weeks when the race weekends were happening back-to-back.
“I guess you don’t need to worry. You’ve got your boyfriend’s money to take care of you.” Although you barely listen to all of her blabbering about the test, that particular thing got through to you.
“Excuse me?”
“Yeah. You’re literally dating a celebrity. You’re set,” she chuckled.
“Do you actually think you’re being funny right now?” She likely didn’t mean any harm, but with your pent-up agony and rage, it was hard not to let loose on her.
“Calm down, I was only kidding…” You’d made a scene. You were uncomfortable, things were awkward, and the only place your mind wandered to was Lewis.
“You know what, I’m sorry. I’m just really tired after the test. How about we catch up soon? I need to head home.” Your heart was pounding rapidly in your chest as you put the keys in the ignition. It almost felt as if you were an irrational teenager again. His absence did a number on you. It wasn’t always like that though. Throughout the previous season, he would always do whatever he could to see you in person. Whether it was bringing you with him, or flying back home. As the following season started, the two of you realized how unethical and harmful the solutions were to the environment. Coupled with the fact that you were trying to become a lawyer, there was no way to see him. No way to be held by him. No way to fall asleep in his arms.
That night, you stared into the ceiling for what felt like hours. The spot next to you was empty. Completely untouched. The sound of the gentle wind rustling the trees outside helped your brain work its wild imagination. Vivid pictures of Lewis played over and over and you couldn’t help but feel as though the two of you weren’t meant to be. You had conflicting schedules and you couldn’t just take a weekend off every week to go with him to his races. He couldn’t stay for your sake either. He had a job to do. A job that millions of people depended on for their entertainment. Were you an obstacle? All these thoughts drove into your heart like a stake. You wept. It was inevitable. You’d tried to not do so because you knew he wouldn’t want that… but it was hard. Too hard. Your vision was blurry and the sounds of the nature surrounding you were dimming slowly. You were falling asleep.
You haven’t seen my man…
3 | Off To The Races
Sunday morning was brutal. You woke up with a pounding headache due to having cried yourself to sleep. The sun made your situation much worse, blinding you as you tried to get out of bed. Upon checking your phone, you saw a slew of unread messages from your beau. All of them were minutes apart, making it clear that he’d been trying to reach you throughout the evening.
21:30- Hey, you’re not answering your phone, so I just wanted to text you instead. How are you?
21:55- Are you there? You’re usually not asleep at this hour…
22:45- I suppose you may be busy or asleep. In that case, sleep well baby❤️
22:46- Call me whenever you wake up
“Fuck,” you sighed and went to the bathroom. The reflection in the mirror seemed unfamiliar. You didn’t look like yourself at all. No, that wasn’t you. The face looking back at you had swollen eyes and redness coating the corners. Its mascara had been running and dried, giving the face a crustier look. It felt as if you were some little kid who couldn’t stand to be alone for the day, whilst their mother went out to buy groceries. It was embarrassing.
After feeding yourself and Roscoe, cleaning yourself up, and doing chores around the house— you decided that you’d turn on the TV to watch your boyfriend. You were too late for lights out, as they were on their 10th already. It didn’t matter though, for Lewis was in the lead. He had mentioned how good his car was, but you didn’t imagine a 20-second gap. It was pure insanity.
Finishing on top, he ran to embrace the team with a smile. The cameraman followed his every move, and as he did so; Lewis came up to him and stared directly into the lens.
“I love you,” he said. Your heart keeled over and you felt your tear ducts get to work again. It was impossible to watch the rest of the celebration. You shut it off and went to calm yourself down. Breathing heavily in front of the bathroom mirror made you feel like a fool. Love made you weak, but it was a good kind of weak whenever your darling was around.
After a hearty nap, you woke up to your phone buzzing itself off your nightstand.
“Hello?” Your voice was jagged and rough from just having woken up.
“Are you okay? You’re not sick, are you?” His voice was breathy and exhausted. Physically, he was obviously worse off than you.
“Hey, no-yeah, I’m okay. I saw you out there today. You did so great, Lew.” His nickname was one that he adored. The way it rolled off your tongue made his heart flutter with joy.
“I’m glad you saw it. Did you… see the celebration?” He was obviously referring to the message he left for the camera. Your heart pumped faster and faster with adrenaline.
“I-uh… I did…”
“So?”
“I love you too. You know I do.” So much so that it hurt that he wasn’t next to you with his arm around your neck. You wanted to lean against his shoulder as he read you stories that his mother used to read to him. Fuck, it hurt.
“When are you coming back?”
“We still have a few things to do here. Thursday? I’ll be home for two weekends after that.” It was better than nothing, though hearing him say it felt like a long time.
“I understand… I just hope you maybe miss me as much as I miss you?” Yeah, you stooped to that level. Your desperation was starting to reveal itself. Layer by layer.
“Are you insane? Not a second goes by without my thoughts being consumed by you. All I’ve ever thought of this weekend has been you. Staying safe for you, training hard for you, winning… for you.” For a moment, he almost sounded frustrated. But it was just a mask for how deeply he felt for you. The two of you sat in the same boat, rocking through the crashing tides of longing together. Each move was careful to not let the other drown.
“Are you crying?” He asked, careful not to step on any thorns.
“No…” you replied with a slight sniffle, signalling that you obviously were.
“It’s okay, I’m right here. I’ll be back home before you know it.” You wanted to hug him. You needed it so badly.
I’m your little scarlet, starlet, singin’ in the garden. Kiss me on my open mouth…
4 | Video Games
It was Monday, which meant that you could be distracted by your otherwise unforgiving job. Being a paralegal, your duties often consisted of briefs upon briefs which took up most of your 8 hours. You were crammed into a small cubicle with little to no space for any of your personal possessions. You’d hung a few pictures of Lewis and yourself and that was about it.
You stared into the dull computer screen, feeling the existential dread looming over you for every number you typed in. Your eyes were basically goo and the bags dragging them down were more apparent than ever. It would’ve been a pitiful sight for your coworkers if you weren’t surrounded by walls.
“Hey you, wanna grab lunch together? Same place as always. It’s on me this time… since I owe you.” Even an invite to free food wasn’t enough to fully pull you out of your trance. You slowly forced your sluggish head to turn and meet your friend’s. The look of horror etched onto her face was enough to let you know you needed to get outside.
“Sure… I guess.” You dragged your feet along the floor as you followed her to the elevator and outside.
“Is it Lewis again or shitty briefs?” She put in her sunglasses and led the way, locking her arm with yours to not look like she was dragging you against your will.
“Honestly? Both. I don’t get why I keep missing him this much, and I don’t get why some briefs suck that bad.” Lewis was one thing and briefs were more of a frustration. Nothing to cry over, really. You generally enjoyed what you did, so there was rarely anything to complain about. The job was cushy and allowed a lot of free time after hours. Team building exercises were scarce, but not to the point where conflicts arose every day. It was fine.
“We’ll have our usuals,” she said to the waitress.
“Look, you can’t control every aspect of your life. It’s meant to be unpredictable. Briefs suck sometimes, you’re going to feel bad about your boyfriend being gone— c’est la vie.” You knew she pulled that straight out of a podcast. At least the general gist of it.
“Whatever. I guess you’re right, that’s life.” You were just about to jump into a different topic when you heard Lewis’ ringtone from your purse.
“Sorry, I have to take this. I’ll be right back.” You scurried off to the restroom to take the call.
“Lewis? Why are you calling?” A bit harsh with his lack of context.
“Am I not allowed to call my girlfriend who, by the way, is very missed?” Just hearing his voice brought back the life that all those briefs drained you of.
“Of course you are… I’m just out for lunch right now.” You felt like a schoolgirl sneaking off to the bathroom to call your beau.
“Sorry, I forgot you usually do that. I was just checking in to say hi before I go in for a meeting.” His voice was so happy-go-lucky, it made you wonder if he missed you as much as you did him.
“… when are you coming back?” You heard a sigh on the other end,
“They’re keeping me here until Wednesday. I’m really sorry, babe.” Of course. It was as if they didn’t want him to go home. Whilst you supported his job and did whatever you could do to show it— you wanted nothing more than for him to stop everything and be with you.
“It’s okay, we can wait. You should focus on your stuff, okay? Good luck with the meeting, Lew.” Luckily, he wasn’t able to see your face. It didn’t match your uppity voice.
“Thanks. See you soon.”
“Bye.”
You left the bathroom and went back to the table where your friend had begun eating. You followed suit and got back to the office after you finished.
After hours, you stopped by a deli to grab a sandwich to eat for dinner. Roscoe greeted you at the door with a huff and followed you to the dining room. The entire house felt empty without your other part to fill it with joy.
That night was another filled with tears and running mascara.
Pull up in your fast car. Whistling my name…
5 | Go Go Dancer
Your depressive slump had faded after the realization that you only had to survive one more night without him. You decided to call in sick and cash in on a few hours for yourself. It was going to be a personal day. You needed to pamper yourself.
Your eyes were still bloodshot from all the crying, but your soul was cleansed of any negativity. Your favorite playlist was on and you began your day of treating yourself like royalty. All of your skincare was out on your vanity and Roscoe sat in the bed behind you. A warm bath was the first thing you did. Whilst flicking on a rom-com, you sat and soaked in the lavender-infused water. Thereafter, you retreated back to your bedroom. Your hair was up in rollers and your bathrobe clung tightly to your damp body.
Today was a day with no briefs, no worries, no salty bosses or annoying clients. You had all the time in the world for yourself. You ordered brunch and whilst you were waiting for it to arrive, you finished your skincare and makeup. After finding something to wear, you picked up the food from the awestruck delivery guy. He complimented your garden and your house. If there was one thing you enjoyed, it was gardening with Lewis. The two of you had worked tirelessly to make the front yard look perfect.
You ate quickly, drying your hair and styling it afterwards. Roscoe was fed and you were already through most of the day.
You pulled out your nail kit from your stash of beauty products and laid out a protective layer on your bed. The playlist kept shuffling through some of your favourites. A gorgeous purple colour appeared before you under the tons of polishes you had. It was perfect and you knew Lewis would love it too. Not that you did it for him. You brushed layer after layer until you were satisfied with the result. It was glossy and simple. Just purple. Sophisticated, but not boring. The process was repeated on your toes as well.
After that, you decided it was time for some movies and popcorn. Lewis never really enjoyed things like popcorn, only ever allowing himself some dark chocolate with his espresso out on the veranda. So, you had to go out to get some. Since you lived quite remotely, you had to drive for a bit before the nearest store appeared. It was worth it though because you spent most of that night with comfortable blankets, popcorn, and bad rom-coms.
Roscoe was beside you all throughout the night, keeping you company with his huffs here and there. Pure tranquillity was what it was, and you couldn’t wait to do the same with Lewis the next evening.
The current movie had to be paused though, as you heard your phone ringing. It was your coworker.
“Hey? What’s up?” You asked, trying to sound hoarse.
“I just wanted to know if you were okay. Heard you were sick.” It sounded like she wasn’t fully sober and on public transport as well.
“Are you drunk?”
“No- yes- you tell me. We just went out for a drink after work today.” She was very clearly slurring her words beyond sensibility.
“We have work tomorrow, why would you ever do that?” Nobody had the guts to do something like that when your job consisted of aiding clients in stressful financial or legal situations.
“We don’t, actually. All of us were just fired on the spot today. He fired us all,” she chuckled and let out a hiccup.
“What?! What’s that supposed to mean?” Your heart sank. Your job… it was just gone.
“Yeah… I don’t know. I think he was in debt or something. Couldn’t keep it going so he decided to sink us all down with him.” You always pictured the CEO as someone with gravitas and money, but apparently, it was all a front.
“What do we do? Can’t we report it to HR somehow? Sue him for wrongful termination?” Admittedly, as calm and collected you usually kept yourself with work-related issues— you were panicking.
“There’s nothing we can do at this point. The entire company has gone to shit. Wouldn’t want to go back there if I was given a raise.” It sounded like she got off the bus, as you heard the doors open.
“You’re lucky you have Lewis. He can take care of you, right?” There was that dreaded guilt of leeching off of your boyfriend. It was a fear that kept gnawing at your ankles, eventually making it to your throat, knowing you had just lost your job.
“I… I don’t know what to say right now. I’ll call you later when I’ve thought about all of this. See you.” There was nothing more to say. It stung that you were in a position where Lewis had to take you under his wing. It felt wrong. It felt criminal.
You really couldn’t catch a break no matter how hard you tried. Something always prevented you from enjoying life as it came.
… and that night you didn’t sleep at all. You stayed up all night contemplating what to do, whether to sue, whether to leave Lewis and tell him to live a good life?! You were going insane. Embarrassment consumed every fibre of your being. The thought that you would depend on him for your survival…
I'm the girl next door, let me come in. I know I go-go dance but I do it for kicks. I never have to work ‘cause my daddy is rich…
+1 | Once Upon a Dream
You’d fallen asleep in the late afternoon after working on a lawsuit against your former boss. It didn’t matter if you’d get it thrown out of court. You just wanted to fight as much as you could. Your great lawyer friend agreed to help you out, representing both himself and you in the case.
Lewis tried to call you several times with no answer. He wasn’t one to worry about you, since he trusted you and knew you wouldn’t do anything stupid. He disregarded it and tried to enjoy his flight home. He was exhausted and just wanted to come home to his little family.
You usually called him before he’d take off, assuring him that you’d be waiting for him at the airport. However, this time was different. You didn’t call and you didn’t answer. His options were limited, forcing him to take public transport. He didn’t want to call a taxi, as they’d be able to note his address and could potentially put you in danger.
People took pictures and some asked him for signs. He didn’t mind it, though he was falling in and out of sleep. When he got off his stop, he decided to walk the rest of the way. The weather was fair and didn’t look like it would change for a while.
On his way, he stopped by a florist to buy you a bouquet of your favourite flowers. He knew you loved having them on the dining table to show any guests.
He wasn’t far away and could see the garden of your house from afar. Meanwhile, you were still buried under your blankets with the lawsuit on your laptop on the coffee table in front of you.
The sound of the front door clicking and closing could be heard, but you were too far gone in your sleep to notice. He called out your name with no response. You weren’t in the bedroom. You weren’t in the kitchen. No, there you were. Your face was buried in the arm on the sofa and the TV was still playing a movie he remembered watching with you some time ago. He saw your laptop, reading some of the contents that were visible on the screen. It didn’t quite make too much sense, but he didn’t want to pry in case it was private.
“Hey… I’m home.” He shook you gently and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. Being something of a light sleeper, it woke you up almost instantly.
“Lewis?” Your eyes fluttered open, as you had to adjust to the light. You saw the face of your lover and embraced him in an instant,
“Oh, I missed you!”
“I missed you too, darling.” He stroked the back of your head as it rested on his shoulder.
“I’m so sorry I didn’t come get you, I was caught up with work and I fell asleep.” It wasn’t a lie per se. It worked… sort of.
“It’s fine. It’s completely fine. You seem distressed, are you alright?” There was nothing you could hide from him. One way or another he’d find out anyway.
“I lost my job. We were all fired.” He was almost as shocked as you were the night before,
“Are you serious? Why?”
“My best guess? The company was sinking.” You sighed and picked up your laptop. The document already contained 3 sections and 15 pages. You were, however, far from done.
“My friend and I are trying to sue. I’m not sure if it’ll hold up in court though.” Your face looked droopy and sad, something Lewis hated.
“You know what? It’s going to be okay. I know it seems rough, and it is. But look on the bright side. We can find you a better job. Better pay, better equity. Plus, for the time being— you could come along to my races. We wouldn’t need to be separated all the time.” He was right. Your job was cushy, but it had its faults regarding exactly the issues he pointed out. The feeling of missing him constantly didn’t bode well with you either. It was a win-win, really. You weren’t actually depending on him, because it didn’t hurt to ask for help every now and then. Especially when the two of you were so in love.
“Yeah… that’d be nice, actually. I do need to file this lawsuit though. I need it.” Lewis nodded in agreement and smiled,
“Of course, love. You do what you need to do. I’ll be here to help.” You closed the laptop and smiled back at him,
“I think we should cook some dinner. What do you have in mind?”
“Anything. It tastes amazing as long as you make it anyway.” The flattery never stopped. As cheesy as it was— you loved the sentiment.
“Right. I’ll see if we have some rotten eggs and spoiled milk in the fridge,” you joked and he chuckled,
“I love you, darling.”
“I love you too, Lew.”
That night, you fell asleep with his arms wrapped around you and your head on his chest. You could hear how his heartbeat synced with yours. This was complete tranquillity, and you couldn’t believe that this would be your reality for a long time now.
I know what you’ll do. You’ll love me at once. The way you did once upon a dream…
𝗥𝗲𝗾𝘂𝗲𝘀𝘁𝘀 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝗼𝗽𝗲𝗻…
𝘾𝙝𝙚𝙘𝙠 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙧𝙪𝙡𝙚𝙨 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙧𝙚𝙜𝙪𝙡𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨 𝙗𝙚𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙦𝙪𝙚𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙥𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙚!
𝙃𝙚𝙧𝙚’𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙢𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩
𝙃𝙚𝙧𝙚’𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙩𝙖𝙜𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩! (𝙄𝙛 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙬𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙩𝙤 𝙜𝙚𝙩 𝙤𝙣, 𝙥𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙚 𝙬𝙧𝙞𝙩𝙚 𝙞𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙨, 𝙙𝙢𝙨, 𝙤𝙧 𝙖𝙨𝙠𝙨: 𝙒𝙝𝙞𝙘𝙝 𝙙𝙧𝙞𝙫𝙚𝙧(𝙨) 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙬𝙝𝙞𝙘𝙝 𝙩𝙮𝙥𝙚(𝙨) 𝙤𝙛 𝙛𝙞𝙘𝙨 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙬𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙩𝙤 𝙗𝙚 𝙩𝙖𝙜𝙜𝙚𝙙 𝙞𝙣.) (Please note that just liking the taglist will not put you on it!)
#fanfiction#fanfic#f1#formula 1#formula one#x reader#f1 fanfic#f1 fanfiction#reader insert#fluff#light angst#angst#sir lewis hamilton#lewis hamilton x you#lewis hamilton x reader#lewis hamilton#5 + 1 fic#f1 x you
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would you have any small writing tips to share with others who are attempting to write their own stories?
Sure.
Disclaimer: This is not a full on tutorial on how to write. These are just tiny, tiny little grains of wisdom of things I realized here and there. Do not eat this advice like a full course meal. It isn't one. It's just a dusting of some spices, and I am salt bae-ing them over you, but they are not calorically relevant without a story.
1. Help your readers read your story.
AKA: If you want your readers to build a house, you better take them to a Home Depot and teach them how to use a screwdriver first.
You want your readers to read your story easily? You gotta make your story easy to read. That means learning how to make sentences easier to understand. That means breaking up walls of text into smaller bites. That means - yes - spelling words consistently and using accessible (not Correct, necessarily, but ACCESSIBLE) grammar!
You want your readers to understand your world? You gotta give your readers tools to understand it with. That means explaining new concepts! That means describing stuff a lot! That means using visual language if you don't have actual visuals!
Your readers will not read your mind to know what you MEANT to say. You have to say what you mean. You have to mean what you write. Learn to write clearly. Learn to help your readers.
2. Something that takes you a month to make will take your audience ten minutes to read.
You want to spend an hour drawing one comic panel? Great. You wanna spend an hour writing a single paragraph? Fantastic. You wanna use up a week perfecting a script? Amazing!
Your readers will still glance at that panel for a second before moving on. Your readers will still eat that paragraph in a bite. Your readers will skim that script. If you're lucky.
You cannot control how much your work is appreciated. But you CAN control how much of your time you sacrifice to make it.
Balance the scales.
3. You are not talented.
Neither am I. Nor are any of us.
Listen to me. Listen.
Talent is a beautiful, useful word. But it often lies to us. It suggests that we are born better than others.
This is not often accurate. What talent hides within itself is not pre-ordained inherent skill. It is not something you are birthed being. It is not a statistical difference of physicality.
Talent starts with passion.
Maybe you have passion for stories - so you beg your grandfather to read to you before you can recognize words, and you write a lot in every school assignment, and you pay attention to EVERY story you watch in school plays, and you observe all the characters you see in movies, and you CARE. So. Much. And this moves you to try to write, and then to try again, and then to try harder.
Talent does not exist, because no amount of 'you were made for running' can make you run. No amount of 'you were the son of great authors' can make you write.
But inherent curiosity can push you forward. Inherent curiosity can make you watch, and observe, even before you understand you are observing. Inherent curiosity for your personal interests makes you a fan of writing, of drawing, of world-building. It makes you research how to be a great author before you even know what research is. It auto-tunes you to what you know is good about these things, and it gives you the necessary tools to know what will work and what won't.
So when you think you are talented, understand that this is not something that was done to you in the womb. It was something you raised, and watered like a seed, before you even knew what you were growing.
Don't rely on talent. Understand that you got this far because you CARE about this thing. And don't forget to care. Because that's what has carried you this far, and it is the only thing that can carry you even farther.
also, cringe is dead.
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Flirty Stranger | Wednesday Addams
Warnings: swearing, Tyler
Wednesday x Galpin!fem
"That'll be 3.99 please, sir." You smiled polity at the taller man infront of you, he sniffled a smile; slamming a five dollar bill into your hand. You gritted your teeth, Lucas was always an ass.
You pressed down on the till, it slamming open; the coins and loss change jiggling when it did. You received his change, handing it to him with a smile.
"Have a nice day." It was a rule at the coffee store: be polite, smile and just be an averagely good person.
Lucas smiled back, placing the money onto the edge of the tip jar.
"Do you want my chaple change, Galpin?" Your nose flared, fingers wrapping around the counter of the table. This was a repeating game with the boy; he had some sick pleasure from you begging for his money. Today though, you honesly couldn't care if he got you fired. You'd burnt the tip of your finger in boiling water, an absolute fiend demanded that you got their order wrong, four times. Your older brother, Tyler, had stormed into the store late for his shift which somehow led to your dad shouting at you for not waking your brother up in time. Fair to say your day was horrible, and all you wanted to was dive head first into a book.
"I don't want, nor do I need your spare money, Lucas." His smiled dropped, eyes casting into a dark gaze.
"I think you miss spoke? Did you mean, Yes sir?" You could have sworn by the amount of times you'd gritted your teeth you wouldn't have any by the end of the shift.
"No. I did not miss speak."
He coughed, the coins teasing the tip jar.
"You know that job is a privilege, not a right." Another person entered the coffee shop, walking into the line that only consisted of Lucas.
"Are you being rude again?" The women asked, pressing her cold finger into Lucas' back. Lucas shrugged the finger off, face drifting into fear at the sight of the girl infront of him.
"No. No Wednesday, we- she was only.." he stuttered out, his fingers finally releasing the money into the jaw. He collected his coffee, sprinting out of the store without a second look.
"Evening. May I have a coffee?" You stared at the girl, her eyes cold and hooded when they looked at you. She was dressed in Nevermore uniform, which meant she had some sort of power.
"Obviously, this is a cafe?" You retorted, eyes tired. Your shoulders were sagged, aching from your bad posture, your eyes were dry and begging for a finger to run into the wisk lids.
"Black. No sugar, no cream."
You hummed, pouring the rich beads of bean's into the crusher. Within moments the coffee was done, steaming in the air. You cupped the lid, pressing it down onto the cup. You slid it onto the counter, telling the girl infont of you the price. She handed you the money, precisely.
"Here." She slipped a hundred dollor bill into the cup, nodding solemnly. You groaned, rolling your eyes. Your fingers dipped into the cup, pressing the bill into her chest.
"I'm not a charity case." She frowned deeper, hand holding the bill.
"I did not imply such a thing. I am measly complamenting your abilities of making an admirable coffee. Is that a crime?" The girl infront of you asked, speaking in such a formality you almost cringed.
"Look, it's nice and all but I'd rather you go on with your day. Makes my life easier." The girl carried on to frown, placing the bill once again into the jaw. The same action played out; you pulled the bill out, she placed it back in.
"Why are you so stubborn?"
"Why are you so stuborn?" You mocked, rolling your eyes.
"This surely isn't allowed as a worker, your being deliciously rude." The girl commented, standing slightly less tall; almost like you had drained the energy out of her.
Your eyes drooped, sighing out in frustration.
"I'm a barista, I'm literally serving coffee to pay my phone bill. I don't owe you anything, I'm not a slave, I shouldn't have to beg you to give me a tip- I don't want a tip. You've payed your bill, so leave."
Wednesday shifted on her feet, her tongue rolling over her teeth.
"Fine." You sighed out, thankful that she finally gave you the space. Then, her fingers wrapped around your belt loop; tugging you forward. She slid the note into your pant pocket, turning around before you could object.
You stared at the open space she once took up. Another customer taking up the empty space within momemts.
"Hi, Ma'am, how may I help you?"
---
Days went by, Lucas didn't harass you. Atleast not at work, at school was a different topic. You eventually learnt the ravens name; Wednesday Addams.
The door bell rang, in walking someone dressed all in black. Instead of coming straight to the till they went to table three. The smaller girl slid into open row, placing her hands on the table and locking them together.
You sigh, Wednesday sitting tall on the chair. You picked up your note book, walking towards the argumentative girl.
"What can I get you today?" You asked, smile plastered on your face. Your pen etched into the paper below it, awaiting the girls answer.
"Mm. My usual." She tucked herself further into the seat, glaring up at you.
You groaned, placing the book down on the table, resting your hand on it.
"Do you really think I can remember that?" Wednesday looked at you, fantom smile dancing on her lips.
"I bet you've remembered every detail of my face." She stated proudly, daring you with a smirk.
"Is that so?" You leaned down, your body tumbling over hers. She nodded, her finger tracking up your arm.
"I've remembered yours."
You hum into the air, smiling like you just won the lottery. You pulled back, your frame casting a shadow over Wednesday's small one.
"What's your name again?"
The question knocked the air out of Wednesday, sucking all of her confidence out.
"Uh. Wednesday Addams."
Your tongue rolled over your top teeth, then sucked your bottom lip into your mouth. Humming to fill the deafening silence.
"Wednesday? That's new. Do you still want that black coffee?" Wednesday clenched her jaw, moving her wandering hand away from you.
"Maybe your number would suffice." She muttered, her eyes still undressing you. You nodded, writing something down on your notepad.
You slid it over, not missing the way her eyes sparked and she almost groaned when the piece of paper was in her hands.
Nice try :) I'm not that easy <3
"That coffee will do, I guess." She groaned, staring at the paper in defeat. Her posture deflated, falling into a soulless sight.
"Fantastic"
Your shift dragged like always, your day seemingly never ending. The Raven haired girl that sent a nerve down your spine stayed, all day.
"Miss Addams, this cafe is closing." You mumbled out from under the counter, your hands cleaning up the beans you spilled earlier that day. Wednesday shuffled towards you, feet stopping when they came face to face with yours.
"May I walk you home?" She asked, standing taller with the suggestion. You was on your knees infront of her, staring through messy hair.
"Why?" You stood back up, placing the beans into the trash, wiping your hands free of the dust that built up on your open palm.
"Its dark, we never know what monster that lurkers outside the door." She said it in such a way that made you guess for what creep would be waiting for you. You nibbled on your bottom lip, staring at the girl who was similar height.
"I think that if any creep tried to have me they'd have to put up a fight. Plus, your the stranger." You noted, walking through the store with a cloth in your hand; wiping down the tables.
Wednesday followed closely after, following you like a lap dog.
"I don't have to be. If only you'd tell me your number. I've been told that I am a gracious date planner." She nodded, proud of her words; rethinking her previous conversations with someone.
"You've been on a date?" You laughed, mocking the implication. She shuffled on her feet, her fringe slightly frazzled at the tiresome day.
"Well no. But- but I assume I would be, I'm a bit of a perfectionist." You stared blankly at her, knowing she was eventually going to tire you down.
"No."
She blinked, her fist clenching around her skirt hem.
"And why not?" She all but whined, sounding like a toddler who wasn't allowed ice-cream, she may have well stomped her feet and screamed.
"Because I don't have time." You mumbled, pushing your lose hair out of your face. You brushed past her, not missing the way her fingers touched yours in a hope to grab your attention; when it didn't work she groaned.
"You can't possibly be that busy? Granted, you have school, maybe an after school activity? Then homework, coming here for- well awhile, then your free to spend your day." Wednesday thought, labeling your whole day.
You hummed, leaning over the counter. It was just like the first time you met, her standing infront of the counter, staring at you through dark eyes.
"I wake up at six, get dressed, plan my outfit and leave for school, I end school at three. I have rugby practise after school for two hours, then I have to come here. I leave her at eight, sometimes nine. After work I have to clean my whole house, cook for my dad and older brother, by then it's about eleven. Sometimes I can fit in my homework, other times i just do it in my breaks. After eleven, I have my shower, then I sleep and repeat my day." Wednesday placed her hand onto the counter, her face riddled with thought.
"Well. Give me your homework, so your break will be free and I can take you on a date, sound adequate?" You laughed, smiling at the girl who was dead serious.
"Why are you laughing? I did not state a joke." Wednesday muttered, pressing herself more into the counter. Your faces were inches away from each other, a daring smile still on yours.
"Uh huh. Your cute, Wednesday." Your finger brushed her fringe, making sure it was in the right place. You hummed seeing the same face that you saw a week previously.
"I'm not a cheat thought, nice try." You leaned forward, kissing her cheek before pulling away. She was left stuck, lost in the mist of your fruitfully perfume and flawless actions of physical touch.
"Care to leave now? I really need to get home before my dad does." You slipped out of the apron, pushing all of your lose hair out of your face; dragging the back of your wrist across your forehead, wiping away the steamed sweat.
"I'll be back." You didnt doubt her in anyway, automatically assuming Wednesday hadn't been told no often in her life. She stormed out of the store. Finally after a while you was left to breath, sighing into the dead silent cafe. The bell rang, Tyler barging through the door.
"Was that Wednesday Addams?"
#jenna ortega#jennaortega#lgbt#tara carpenter#wlw#wednesday addams x fem#wednesday addams x female reader#wednesday addmas x fem#wednesday addams#vada cavell#Lorraine day#jenna ortega x reader#jenna ortega x you#jenna ortega x fem#jenna ortega x fem!reader
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How would the first meeting between the Autobots and the humans have gone? With their more alien and most likely more imposing forms (due to their Cybertronian vehicle modes) I assume the government agents / military personnel sent to investigate were rightfully afraid. (Personally I think seeing 15-30 foot robots with optics that pierce through the presumably kicked up dust would be a little scary) Perhaps they would’ve spoken in a mix of Cybertronian and English? Would they have simply stared and watched, like in your Grim Dark Archives AU? I dunno it’s just something I thought would be interesting, but I already sent you a few requests, so feel free to delete this one. (To clarify this is a request for a longer writing post)
I have thought about this probably more than I should have. Writing The Grim Dark Archives gave me ideas for this ask, hence my IMPOSSIBLY slow response. Annnnnnyway, here you go!
━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙ ━━━━━━━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙
The Autobots had plenty of time to prepare for their inevitable interactions with humanity during their journey. At the time the team consisted of Ratchet, Optimus, Bulkhead, and Bumblebee. As such, they were too few in number to go for any real intimidation tactic, not that they would have gone that route anyway. There was no choice but for them to learn to communicate.
But of course, due to the HIGHLY varying methods of human communication across Earth, it was decided that each of the team would specialize in different methods of communication to ensure that at least someone could talk. Ratchet went the technological way and learned how to communicate in human morse code, the various computer coding languages, and digital texting. He hated every single moment of having to figure it all out, but at least he wasn't Bulkhead. Poor Bulkhead was tasked with learning the more physical methods of communication just in case things went south. He spent hours upon hours watching traditional dances and physical activities from around the world meant to express certain intentions. Let it be said that he is not a good dancer.
Bumblebee of course went down the route of non verbal communication for obvious reasons. He learned all the various sign languages available, practiced miming, learned various whistles, and familiarized himself with music in order to create ambiance as needed. Some species worked differently after all. Optimus for his part actually learned the spoken languages of Earth. Being a former archivist made the process far easier than it otherwise would have been, but he still spent a ridiculous amount of time practicing to get it right. With all of this having been done, when the team finally arrived on Earth, they felt they were ready.
They were incredibly wrong in their assumption.
They spent a handful of weeks undercover, but a few too many security cameras ended up getting them caught. Soon enough they were confronted with quite a few armed vehicles surrounding them and what had to be around a hundred soldiers with weapons raised. The team had learned what surrender looked like and so raised their servos up to show they passivity. That action seemed to give the gathered soldiers pause, and not too long later, a speaker was sent before them.
"I am Agent Fowler from the Department of Defense. What are you and what are you doing here?"
"We are Autobots. We come from the stars."
"You are aliens?"
"Affirmative. We arrived in a spaceship."
"A spaceship?"
"Affirmative. We came to find our bullies."
"Your... *wheeze* bullies?"
"Is that the incorrect term? We seek our... brothers?"
"Right, you came here to find someone. What do you plan on doing here while you hunt them down? Are you planning on blowing anything up?"
"Negative. Combustion of native structures and lifeforms is not on our wishlist."
"Wishlist?"
"Affirmative? Is that not how the term is used? I apologize."
"No no its fine. Let's talk this out."
Optimus did his very best to get the point across, but due to the many similar words in the English language, his ability to use words in context was rather limited. It also did not help that he spoke as though every single word was coming from a script, which unknown to Agent Fowler, he absolutely was reading from his translation program. He was disturbing and hilarious to speak to and Agent Fowler had to step aside and laugh more than once before going back over to the bots to continue talking in a secure facility. But this was noticed rather quickly, and so eventually the team swapped tactics. Optimus stood quietly and stared to try and figure out how to adjust his speech patterns while the rest of the team worked in tandem to communicate differently.
Fowler was not pleased when he had to fetch a technician to try and translate what Ratchet was typing up, which largely amounted to very very complex code going into the extreme details of their situation. Ratchet almost flipped a table when the technician gave up two lines of code in. The medic was not at all happy to have to think about learning the native language. At least with code he could fudge it a bit. But if the squishies couldn't even read the most "basic" of code strings, he was doomed. Bulkhead didn't fare much better in his attempts to dance in various American styles to show how the Autobots were trying to be friendly. His moonwalk was the only thing he was able to do right and all it did was leave the entire collection of human personnel laughing themselves half to death. Humiliated, Bulkhead made way for Bumblebee who managed to convey more vital information through sign language. He got across about as much as Optimus did, but finally there was some sort of answer for the humans present.
Then of course, there was the mess that way asking for names.
"The military will decide what we are going to do with you, but for now you all can stay here. Do you have any names to do with your files?"
"Affirmative. Our names are not pronounceable in your language, but they can be translated."
"Well lay it on me."
"This is Bumbling Bee. Or perhaps Honey Bee? Striped insect? I am afraid I do not have a proper translation."
"Bumblebee it is. What's next? Cargo lift?"
"Negative. This is Dividing Wall."
"Dividing... wall."
"I believe that is the most direct translation. A close synonym would be Bulkhead."
"Right... who is the red one then?"
"My companion is named after a tool on our homeworld. I do not believe you have the exact same tool here. The closest object I could find was the tool you call a ratchet."
"So his name is Ratchet?"
"It is close enough. Is "he" the correct referral for us on your world?"
"You look more masculine, so unless you want to be a she-"
"No, your masculine referral is sufficient."
"What is your name then big guy?"
"I am... Best First? I believe that is the most direct translation of my designation."
"Best First? You must have quite the ego."
"I did not choose my designation, it was given upon my rise to my station. However as my designation seems to be offensive, I will attempt an another translation."
"Wait-"
"Optimus Prime is sufficient. That is the designation by which I believe I can be referred to."
"Alright then. This is going to be a headache."
The Autobots were kept in a facility until the military questioned them more and understood their intentions. But there were more than a few miscommunications and both Ratchet and Bulkhead lamented the many hours spent learning what they now knew to be a useless form of communication.
#transformers#maccadam#transformers prime#team prime#optimus prime#ratchet#bumblebee#bulkhead#agent fowler#cybertronian culture#this was just a goofy thing#and I will never not find it funny that Optimus has a name that literally means best first#dude had no choice but to look arrogant
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4. lovesick
Let's Get Lost Chapter 4 | Frankie Morales x female reader
Summary: You and Frankie aren’t together anymore but you’re in a good place. However, spending a week together for your mutual friends’ wedding on a luxury resort might challenge that slightly and realising you’re still in love with your ex is a sure-fire recipe for disaster … Tropes: it was always you, getting back with the ex, beach!Frankie (you know *that* photoshoot) miscommunication, only one bed, good parent Frankie
Chapter Warnings: 18+ MDNI, references to past drug addiction, references to alcohol, historic argument referenced, one passing reference to body insecurity, reader is unnamed with no physical desctipton but wears a necklace, Frankie and reader are parents, yearning?
Word Count: 3350
Notes: Thank you for the lovely feedback so far - it's meant so much to me and I hope you enjoy this update. I am so excited to share this chapter with you! The chapter title is from Laurel's song lovesick.
Previous | Series | Next
The nearby town is awake and full of life this morning. Dappled light warms your skin as you walk through the main street with the rest of your group. You can smell the salt air of the sea in the distance, interspersed with enticing smells of food as you walk past a bustling restaurant.
You could stay here forever.
Clara’s ahead of you, glued to Santiago and giggling happily as she animatedly tells him about everything she wants to do today. It sounds hectic, involving the beach, the summer club, and a truly incredible amount of ice-cream.
Next to you, Frankie has a soft smile on his face as you catch him looking at your daughter. He seems more relaxed at last. There’s a lightness to him again, his smile reaches his eyes and there’s warmth in his face again. You missed that.
You missed him. You miss him.
Living a life agonising over what could have been is wrong. You made the right decision to leave Frankie at the time. You know that.
You and Clara deserved better than the life that he was promising you both at that moment. Clara was, she is, the priority and quite simply, you didn’t want your child to grow up around active addiction. That’s not a bad thing. Frankie feels the same, he’s told you.
Frankie’s changed now though. Your Frankie’s back and that’s a complication you didn’t expect.
You’re happy for him. He’s lost that haunted look in his eyes; the shadows are lighter on his face. It’s even good to see him in those ridiculous patterned holiday shirts, to notice his hair is just a little longer and the curls are peeking through again and look clean and healthy. He’s not been wearing his hat on holiday and there’s something about seeing his hair like this that makes you want to run your hands through it.
You cannot ruin Benny and Lia’s wedding though. You can suppress this.
You have to.
You’re so close to Frankie right now though.
It happens without thought. You’re not sure who initiates it , whether it’s you or Frankie, but somehow as your arms unconsciously move with the stride you take, your fingers have brushed his. Then they’re entwined. Gently, barely touching really, but linked all the same.
It feels electric.
It feels dangerous.
What are you playing at? Is this wrong? Is it cruel to Frankie? Or you? And what about your daughter? She needs consistency, she needs structure. Not the messed up will they, won’t they? you and her Frankie could develop into.
This feels natural though. It reminds of you of how things used to be. Hand in hand walking down the city streets after dinner, so incontrovertibly in love with him. Lia used to joke you were couple goals, until you weren’t.
The memories you’ve tried to avoid since your breakup, to suppress so that the heartbreak of losing him wasn’t so sharp, are flooding back. It’s too much, it’s too hard.
It’s too messy.
You need the wall back up. You need the pillow barrier to better fight these thoughts back, to fight these stupid tiny gestures.
It’s harmless though, right?
You’re holding hands, you’re hardly pressed against the wall in a sweaty mess. So it’s fine.
It’s fine.
Santi looks back and he meets your eyes. You watch him look down fleetingly and then back at you. No one else would notice it, you’re not even sure Frankie does. You do though. You see how his face changes, the disappointment, something unreadable there too. He shakes his head just slightly.
It’s enough for you to withdraw, to walk towards Clara, making a fuss of her instead.
This is meant to be a family holiday for her, it’s meant to be about Benny and Lia’s wedding.
You can’t do this.
As the steam from the shower dissipates, you notice your reflection looks just a little healthier; a little less weary. While your mind has been running away with you, you realise that the holiday itself might be helping.
You haven’t thought about checking your work emails in days, you haven’t thought about that project or any of it. You feel a little more like yourself again which probably makes sense because you’re at the halfway point now. It always feels like you just start to enjoy and relax in your breaks as the end looms closer.
You place your damp towel back on the radiator and tug at the waistband of your loose trousers one final time. You take a deep breath, applying the finishing touches to freshening up your appearance by liberally spritzing your perfume on your neck and wrists. The warmth of the cardamom scent immediately soothes you further.
You move to put your necklace back on. It’s one you wear every day, you’re not sure how it started but you feel naked without it now. You can’t seem to get the clasp on. The more you try, the more your fingers feel clunky and sweaty and panic rises in your stomach.
You need this necklace to be able to go to lunch, you irrationally tell yourself, adding more unwanted pressure, making your fingers even more slippery.
“Crap,” you exclaim as you almost drop the necklace down the sink.
“Everything okay?” You hear Frankie ask, his soft voice a balm on your panic.
“Uh, hey Frankie, can you help me for a second?”
“Sure, sure. Are you um, are you decent?”
“Yeah, yes, um …” It hadn’t occurred to you that it might have sounded like you weren’t and for a second you try and think about all the scenarios where it might have been something else.
Frankie opens the bathroom door and closes it behind him gently. “Everything okay? You look alright?”
“I can’t get my necklace and I almost dropped it down the sink and - my hands are all sweaty?”
“It’s no problem.”
You hand him the jewellery quickly and he smiles. “You wear this every day, don’t you? I think you were wearing it when we met.”
“I would have been.”
”It’s pretty.”
“Thanks.”
“Can you turn around?”
You oblige, shifting so that Frankie can easily place the necklace around your neck.
“There,” he says after a second.
“Thanks.”
You turn around so you’re facing him. He’s already ready for your late lunch and you can see he’s caught the sun just a little this morning. The guys had been zip-lining earlier after your breakfast in the town - Benny’s idea for a more inclusive, sober, stag event. All of you had already been diving earlier in the week - you love being in the water, it had been like coming home.
Right now, it feels like that moment when you first start a dive though. That momentary pause of doubt as you rely on the oxygen tank, as you sink down deeper into the water’s secrets. It’s exhilarating and terrifying.
You feel like that here with Frankie now.
You move closer to him, taking in the woody scent of his cologne, the slight hint of coconut sunscreen on his arms. He’s here, he’s real.
You’ve missed him.
Your lips are on his without thinking. It’s a move so familiar that it’s pure instinct. You loop your arms around his neck, bringing him ever closer to you so you can feel his torso pressing against you.
He responds, hands in your hair, moving you against the wall as he kisses you deeply.
The two of you don’t need words. You never did.
His hand skims your face, moves down your neck towards your waist as he traces the contours of your body, rests his hands on the edge of your shorts, breathes heavily onto your neck before returning to your lips.
You can feel how he wants you. You can feel the anticipation building in your stomach. You need him, you realises as you trace your fingers on the buttons of his shirt, unbuttoning it and feeling the heat of his skin, noticing the freckles coming out with all the sunshine here. You take in the broadness of his shoulders, the way his lips feel against yours and his hands and you need him to move away from your waistband, beyond your cotton underwear to a point of no return.
This kiss already obliterates that barrier though, right?
His hands finally start to move down -
“Mummy,” your daughter calls and you immediately pull away from Frankie.
He looks at you, breathing raggedly.
“I’ll uh - I’ll go and check on her.”
“Yeah, I just, I just need a minute,” Frankie says in a low voice, his cheeks flushed.
“Right, yes, of course.”
“Mummy? Daddy?”
“Just coming,” you say, rolling your eyes at Frankie’s smirk and the slight shake of his head there. You raise your eyebrows at him.
“Not quite,” you whisper teasingly.
“Well,” Frankie says, leaning in close again.
“MUMMY!”
“Dammit, I can tell you she’s definitely spent too much with Will. Fuck me,,” Frankie mutters. You’re not sure entirely what he means by referring to Will at that moment, but you’re too busy trying to quickly regain your composure, to get to your daughter. It’s something you can store to muse on later.
Reality calls.
The sound of the whirlpool covers the dull tones of discussion from others in the spa area. You take a sip of your tea, leaning back and shutting your eyes.
“So this is nice,” Lia says, the smile evident in the tone of her voice. “I feel like I’m finally relaxing a bit.”
“Good, you should.” How are you doing with all the prep and you - you’re marrying Benny!”
“I know, it’s … I don’t even know what to say. I love him. That’s it - I love him and I want this. I am so ready for this.” Lia smiles happily, tucking a strand of hair behind her ears. “It’s going to be great.”
“I’m so happy for you both, ‘m happy something so good came out of the last year or so.”
“Are you and Frankie - are you two okay still?” There’s caution in her voice. The anxious part of you wonders if perhaps it’s because she’s afraid you’ll ruin her wedding, cause a scene like you did at Will’s wedding. Guilt pools in your stomach because you shouldn’t make your friend feel like this.
You’re desperate to tell her.
I kissed him. It’s on the tip of your tongue, you can feel the words forming.
You want to tell her.
It was a damn good kiss after all.
Something stops you though.
“We’re good,” you say finally. “We’re friends again and we both want the best for Clara. That’s all that matters, right?”
“Yeah. I’m actually really proud of you both. This is pretty damn mature. I’m glad you’re not, I don’t know, just messing each other around. I know it was hard, I know the breakup and everything that happened - you’ve been really strong and I am proud of you.”
On any other day, her words would fill you with pride. Today though, guilt spreads through your body instead, searing heat of anxiety with it.
“So, ”
Your name is called as the massage therapist walks into the spa.
“Later,” you say to Lia apologetically before following the stranger out of the main spa, grateful for her interruption.
Massages are strange. They’re supposed to be relaxing but you find it hard to turn off your brain, the hints of anxiety about the parts of your body you’re less than comfortable with, whether or not you’re being judged and the underlying worry of what if you fall asleep? What if you snore?
This is a surprisingly relaxing experience though - your masseuse has checked her pressure, ensured you’re comfortable and you’re starting to relax a little, to lose a little of that tension you were holding. Soft piano music plays and you shut your eyes, trying to turn off your thoughts a little.
“So are you the bride? It’s a big wedding party, isn’t it?”
“No, my friend Lia is. I’m one of the bridesmaids.”
“That’s nice.”
“They met because of me though. Well, me and my ex.” You have no idea why you’re saying this but surely there’s a privacy code, right? You can’t tell Lia, or Sophia, or anyone. So why not a stranger?
“That’s nice.”
“It was … wasn’t the best scenario.”
“Oh.” The masseuse pays attention to a knot in your neck, releasing some of the waves of tension you’ve felt recently. Maybe that’s what makes you continue.
“We had an awful break up. At our friend’s wedding, who is in fact the brother of the groom. I mean awful too and public.”
“Oh boy.”
“Yep, talk about drama. And I think - no, no, I definitely did. I just kissed my ex today, like a proper in the movies, perfect cinematic kiss. That’s one thing, but I think I might still be in love with him. I’m going to ruin Lia’s wedding too, aren’t I?”
The masseuse pauses, you feel her lift her hands above your body.
“I’m going to give you a free face mask with this. I think - I think you need it.”
Eighteen Months Ago - Will’s Wedding, Florida
You’ve been pretending all evening. You have become so skilled at pretending, you think you could give Meryl Streep a run for her money.
It’s exhausting though.
You’re exhausted.
Next to you, Sophia is humming as she opens her lip gloss and tops up her makeup. She’s changed into a different dress for the evening; less dramatic and easier to dance in. She looks beautiful, there’s a warm smile on her face, her complexion is glowing and she looks serene.
Part of you hates her for that.
“You look great,” Sophia says as she catches you frowning at your own reflection. “I’m so glad you and Frankie are here. the way Will is with him and Santi, they’re as much his brothers as Benny. And after Tom -”
“Yeah.”
“It was nice that Molly came, right? I think Tom would have liked that.”
“Definitely,” you say, even though from how Frankie used to talk about the divorce with Tom and Molly you are not so sure Tom is looking down grinning right now.
Tom didn’t make it back though and Frankie barely did. You still don’t know much about what happened, Sophia doesn’t seem to either. The men don’t talk about it at all.
You’ve lost your Frankie though. He didn’t need to die to not come back. It just means that no one knows you’re in mourning. You keep hanging on, you keep hoping.
You’re sure there’s something you could do better to help get him back.
“How’s Clara doing?” Sophia asks.
“Great.” She hasn’t slept in weeks, maybe months. Sleep itself is a foreign concept now and no matter what you read, no matter what you try, your daughter just cannot sleep through a night.
“And you and Frankie? Are you guys next - should I, uh, aim the bouquet towards you?”
You laugh lightly, swallow the bitter taste in your throat and the words you can’t say. “Sure. Shall we head out?”
You’re pretty sure Frankie is using again.
Now
You pull yourself out of the memories, not wanting to go any further into that night.
You remember the aftermath all too well though. The DJ was playing Murder on the Dancefloor and the irony of it still makes you almost laugh. Your relationship died on that dance floor to a fitting song.
Flashes come back to you against your will as you try and focus on the spa, on the now.
“I don’t think we can do this anymore. I love you, Frankie. God, I love you, but we can’t.”
Frankie’s look of betrayal filtering through the residual high. The heaviness that here at Will’s wedding you’ve suddenly voiced the thoughts that have consumed you for weeks. Liquid courage and the image of Sophia’s face, so full of a hope you can’t imagine anymore, guided you to this moment.
“Here, really? You’re just giving up on me?”
“Tell me you’re sober, Frankie, swear it.”
“Don’t do this here.”
“We can’t do this anymore. We can’t. It’s not - I’m done, I can’t, Frankie, I can’t.” Your voice is panicked, rising.
Echoed shouts, the feel of stares, so many stares. Music going quiet.
Santi and Benny guiding you both away from everybody else.
Tears. Yours. His.
An ending.
It’s over.
You can’t come back from this.
You blink back tears. It was a bad break up and it would have been so much easier if you’d ever hated Frankie, if he’d ever hated you. Breaking up because you love someone but it’s not enough is a pain you hope your daughter never has to experience.
He’s different now though.
You’re different.
It would be different, wouldn’t it?
Clara’s curled up, fast asleep in her bed. Soft snores sound as you place your book on the bedside table.
“Hey,” Frankie says softly as he shuts the bathroom door carefully. “She looks exhausted.”
“It’s all that time in the playgroup and sun,” you reply affectionately.
“Do you think she’s having a good holiday?”
“Yeah, of course. I hope so.”
“Me too. It’s good to see her happy like this. I’m glad we did this. For her.”
“Same. She’s going to look adorable at their wedding, isn’t she?”
“Yeah. Can’t believe it’s only a couple of days away and then we’re -”
“I know.” In two days, Lia and Benny get married. You won’t wreck it, you won’t.
You look at the bed, the pillow barrier Frankie has automatically built. Neither of you have spoken about the kiss before lunch. When you returned from the spa and got ready for dinner, you had spoken about Clara and your books and anything but the kiss.
The pillows feel wrong though. You remember the start of the week, how it felt secure to have the pillows between, mature even. You are grown ups, friends and exes and the pillows protected that. However, the barrier is a merely a representation of the line you obliterated earlier. It can’t work anymore.
You’re not just co-parents.
You don’t know if Frankie feels the same though, if too much has happened now for the two of you to forge something new.
The pillows are a weight though. You look at Frankie and hesitantly move one of the pillows away from the barrier.
He smiles, almost imperceptibly and then he does the same from his side of the bed.
With the lights out, there are still so many words unsaid, so many conversations the two of you need to have.
You turn in the bed, feeling the warmth radiating from Frankie’s back. You hear him shift, the rush of air as he turns around and he’s facing you.
“Hi,” he whispers, reaching a hand to touch your face.
“Hi,” you reply.
Perhaps that’s the only word you need right now. The two of you are starting all over again.
Tag List
If you would like to be added to to the taglist please let me know. As a reminder this blog is 18+ - minors do not interact and I block blank/ageless blogs.
LGL tag-list: @morallyinept @la-vie-est-une-fleur29 @beboldbebravethings@spishsstuff @bitchesuntitled@redcake333@missladym1981 @kungfucapslock @dinoflower-reads @kirsteng42 @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @casssiopeia @beboldbebravethings @devotedlyshybarbarian @emilyfarias16 @sageispunk @amyispxnk @lola8888673 @maryfanson @lu62 @ilovepedro@katw474@softstarlite@titlee78@aquanatalie @girlofchaos
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#frankie morales x female reader#frankie morales x reader#triple frontier fanfiction#frankie morales#frankie morales fanfiction#frankie catfish morales#triple frontier#fic: let's get lost#frankie morales x you
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the thing About the ship of theseus take on characters being pushed so far from canon that they're essentially ocs is that it's not Wrong. it's not Incorrect that you will often see characters fleshed out in ways that are, at a certain point, no longer compliant with the original. And it's very true that it can be off putting to find as a fan of the source material (I've certainly felt that).
but the Thing that people don't get when they say Just Make An Oc is that this ocification of a character isn't meant for them.
because the joy is the journey that you take with the character, in Seeing something in them and following it. this character is unrecognizable To You, the person who created them went on that journey with reimagining them and can still see the threads that connect point A to point B.
creating a character from scratch inherently isn't the same as identifying with Something in a character and Finding It. bringing it to the surface and expanding on it. it Matters where they come from, because the joy is sparked in them being that character.
and like, I'm not saying that every out of character fic or fan art is the result of a personal journey that has to be respected or whatever. or that people can't misinterpret characters in a way that actively undermines the source material or other characters or just polite sensibilities.
but I Am saying that sometimes it matters less that a character is the same as they are within the context of their source material than they are believable and consistent and engaging within the context that they're being presented. sometimes bending a character until they're near unrecognizable but being able to See those connections and understand Why they are different can be the point.
the experience of finding a novel length fic that's So engaging in itself that you're fairly certain you could get the same amount of enjoyment out of it if you had never consumed the source material Is A Gift that I intend to never waste. "just make an oc" doesn't scratch the itch of having a special little guy and putting them in situations forever.
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☀Sun Sign Astrology☀
The Sun represents the ego, where the native wants to succeed in life, motivations, overall attitude & spirit. In which house the sun falls in represents where you put your energy/focus and where you shine like the sun!
☉-Symbol for the Sun in Astrology and Natal Charts
Side Note: I am NOT a professional. Please take this with a grain of salt. Take what resonates leave what doesn't. I hope you enjoy.
Aries Sun: Known for their head strong attitude, passion and Independence. This sun sign enjoy and strive to live an active lifestyle. They are authentic and do not struggle to go after what they want in life. Aries Suns know who they are and where they want to be in life. These natives have a fiery will power that guides them to push through anything (or anyone) that presents as a challenge. These people strive to be a leader in all aspects of their life including their family, romantic, platonic and workplace relationships. Sometimes Aries' can come off selfish and impatient this is because they are meant to live from a place of personal power. They are very assertive with their needs so don't ever worry about them being inauthentic with you. If they want to, they will! Known for their anger, which tends to be sudden and powerful, but dissipates quickly. Overall, an extremely brave sign, they may be impulsive, but an Aries knows better than any other sign that with great risk, comes a great reward! Aries is a cardinal, fire sign.
Sun in 1st: What you see is what you get with Sun in the first. When you walk into a room these people will be the first one you notice. It is important to these people to be a bold, creative and bright personality. They make a strong first impression on everyone they meet and are generally charming and warm. Leadership finds them easily in life, they do not go unnoticed by managers and coworkers. Sun in the first makes friends quickly as well because of their authenticity and popularity. They have a lot of opportunities to succeed in life because people notice their talents and skills immediately. Other individuals view these natives as independent, self aware, and confident. Generally speaking sun in the first house individuals posses a strong presence, put a large focus on themselves, their physicality and their own interests.
Taurus Sun: A stable personality that gravitates towards the creature comforts the world has to offer. Taurus Suns are known for the ability to connect with their five senses; They enjoy comfortable materials, quality food, beautiful music, pleasing aesthetics, and a stable environment surrounding them. These natives are not a fan of change in their lives, chances are they have a consistent group of people in their life, have lived in their home for awhile, and don't change jobs frequently. If it's safe they are loyal and in it for the long haul. Taurus' would rather invest a large amount of energy into something that would last than waste their money, energy, or time on something that won't last. Once they set their minds on something it could take an army to change their direction! They are Stubborn- with a capital S. Taurus Suns high standards and self worth so the chances are that they will value someone else's opinion over theirs is slim to none. However, Taurus' make great lovers and friends because of their reliability, loyalty, and sweet qualities. Taurus is a fixed, earth sign.
Sun in 2nd: This position of the sun can indicate a generous nature, the ability to create stability for yourself, and high self esteem. Sun in the 2nd can make money effortlessly and enjoys living a lavish lifestyle. Just because they enjoy the finer things does not guarantee materialism, however it can manifest that way. They can be financially blessed, especially later in life. Others take note of what they have, their material possessions, and stability. Sun in 2nd shines because of their secure, reliable and loyal nature. Anyone who knows them is aware of their generous and loving nature unless poorly aspected. If there is any malefic aspects to the Sun their can be a tendency towards greed and gluttony. These natives can also be known for their work ethic, cooking, or their voice/singing. They can also just have a high quality and wealthy attitude about them. Sun in second can also manifest as good and moral values.
Gemini Sun: Multifaceted and curious, these individuals know just a little bit about everything. They move through the world as if it's an all you can eat buffet of knowledge, people, places, and opportunities. Gemini's are they messengers of the zodiac, so they might be known for their gossiping habits and talkative qualities. They are brilliant and creative minds with a large variety of interests and hobbies. Gemini's can have a lot of acquaintances because of their playful sense of humor, quick wit and charming nature. Can be great multi taskers and often jump from one thing to the next. They are always mentally active and strive to know everything about everything. Gemini sun's can be deceiving and mischievous about their intentions or to avoid responsibility. Most are aware that they can lack depth and be superficial in their actions. With how many people they talk to it would be odd if they weren't inauthentic with a few of them, although they still are very versatile. They don't like being bored so they'll take a strong liking to you if you are just as funny, entertaining and mentally stimulating as they are. Gemini is a mutable, air sign.
Sun in 3rd: Indicative of a forever student, someone who spent a majority of their time socializing and learning as a kid. There might of been popularity amongst peers in early childhood education or a possibility of being the teacher's pet. Friends and siblings hold a high priority for Sun in the 3rd, as well as going to social events. There is a probability of having a number of hobbies, interests and talents, as well as being the most successful amongst your siblings. They can get noticed easily for their car, sense of humor, intelligence or have a high following on social media. Sun in the 3rd could talk a lot about themselves and their particular interests in communications with others. There is something very captivating about the way that they talk and communicate. These people are great story tellers so writing could be a useful talent or public speaking.
Cancer Sun: Empathetic, caring and sweet; the cancer sun thrives in any emotional interaction. Family has had a big influence on where and what they are doing in life today, even if they don't talk to their family much. Cancer's may have fluctuating mood swings, but they care a lot for the people they love. Family is very important to them, even if they don't talk to their biological family- one of their biggest goals is to initiate a group of people of which they belong to. They are very nostalgic and sentimental, so just know if you ever did something sweet for a cancer, they remember, trust me. Emotions can cloud their judgement at times and if they feel threatened they can lash out unexpectedly. Cancers' are known to have a strong and long memory because they reflect back to the past often. It is also so important for a Cancer to have a safe and comfortable home where they can express their sensitivity openly and freely. A lot of them end up being the matriarch of their families. Cancer is a cardinal, water sign.
Sun in the 4th: The golden child! Family is super important with Sun in the 4th. Everything they do is for their family and home. They might put a lot of time and effort into making their parents proud- even as a grown adult. If there's no family- creating one is of high importance. This placement is indicative of spending a lot of time in their own inner world, feeling comes naturally to these people. They have a genuine care for the wellbeing of others, especially their loved ones. Sun in the 4th is a wonderful host-entertaining their guests, cooking for them, make sure that they a comfortable and have everything they need in their home. They take great pride in their home and are very protective of their loved ones. These individuals will make great parents and will be everything to their children.
Leo Sun: A bright, warm, ray of sunshine to be around! Leo Sun's are known for their joyful and radiant presence. They are generally very creative and fun people to be around. If they are serious about you, and trust me they have options, they will be loyal until the end. Leo's love being in the spotlight and the spotlight love's to shine on them! The sun is at home here after all! The way Leo's express themselves confidently and authentically. Although this sign is naturally the center of attention, they may require a lot of reassurance and validation. They are actually quite sensitive to the criticism of others, especially the their loved ones. Leo's laughter is quite contagious and bountiful, everyone wants to be around a happy Leo sun. It can be hard to have a constructive argument with a Leo because of their pride in arguments; there are times where they genuinely can't get enough of themselves. They are hard workers, self disciplined, and motivated to do anything they want to do. They are brave and generally succeed in whatever areas of life they put their energy.
Sun in 5th: This is a very dramatic and exciting personality! With this Sun placement, the native lives to have fun and be in the limelight. Sun in the 5th makes a charming, flirtatious, and playful personality. They are in touch with their inner child and get along well with children because of it. Their own children will be the center of their universe. There might be a need for attention nd validation from others with Sun in the 5th, or egoism and arrogance if the sun is poorly aspected. Sun in the 5th can also have a lot of talents, be into theatre or any kind of performing arts. They can be very athletic, have great physicality and vitality, or just live everyday like it's their last. These people despise being exploited or humiliated, more so than most. Happiest whenever they are doing anything expressing their creative side, participating in their hobbies, and having fun. They are the life of the party, but may struggle to balance work and play. Overall, very charming, passionate, stylish and expressive placement.
Virgo Sun: These natives are analytical, detail oriented and organized. Virgo's are critical of themselves and others but it always comes from a place of wanting to make something better. They shine the brightest when they are using their intelligence to be of service to others. They are very observant and never miss if you got a new hair cut or spilt coffee on your shirt. They are grounded and realistic in going after their goals and dreams. Virgo suns are not the best about asking for help when they need it because they tend to nitpick themselves. Their humor is self deprecating and sarcastic- but generally they are a very funny sign. Virgos strive for perfection and are willing to strip away anything that does not meet their high standards. They can come off judgmental but they are just trying to help. They can take on a lot of responsibility and be very hard working. Virgo suns tend to be introverted although they communicate well and enjoy conversing with others. They can also enjoy a good intellectual debate, and are great listeners. Virgo is a mutable, earth sign.
Sun in 6th: Individuals with sun in 6th are healers and need work that gives them purpose. In their work environment, they can bring a lot of joy to others and make whatever job they do more bearable for others. They can have a strong interest in wellness activities such as yoga, eating healthy, meditation, etc.- these people are dedicated to their routines. A lot of these natives work in the medical field, service and hospitality. Sun in the 6th can take on a lot of responsibility at work, they are leaders in the work place. These individuals love pets and animals of all kind. They could struggle with anxiety or mental illness in some way. Their diet could be very important to them as some are known to struggle with IBS or other food sensitivities. This placement is generally concerned with their overall wellbeing- and through healing themselves is where they learn how to heal others. These people are also funny, witty and good humored individuals.
Libra Suns: Likeable and charismatic, Libra suns shine because of their social skills and diplomacy. They are very bubbly and fun to be around. Libras care about their appearance, are very sweet, and avoid the uglier aspects of life. May struggle with being indecisive and may take awhile to come to a conclusion of what they want. This is usually due to the fact that they are trying to be as fair and just as possible. Libras are avoidant of confrontation or conflict of any kind because they struggle with people pleasing. They really care about what other people think of them. At times they can live for other people instead of going after what they want. They thrive in partnerships and may struggle with codependency. Libra suns are generally the best friend type. They can get along with just about anyone because of their peaceful nature. They have a lot of compassion for others and find it easy to see the beauty in others. These natives are very beautiful inside and out. They are the happiest and shine the brightest in a relationship or surrounded by people they love. Libra is a cardinal, air sign.
Sun in 7th: Well known and popular amongst peers, coworkers and family. They put a lot of energy into perfecting their partnerships. Sun in the 7th is a harmonious placement and care about other peoples opinions of them. They are very romantic and sweet individuals and they learn about themselves through other people and their relationships. Can struggle with codependency in their relationships, its super important for them to balance their personal time and time spent with their loved ones. They spend quite a bit of time thinking about others and how their actions will affect others. Sun in the 7th is a good position for a prosperous marriage and success after marriage. They take commitments of all kind very seriously. Can also attract a partner with strong will power, creativity, and passion. This position of the sun is not the best for going after their own wants and needs, although they are known for being a harmonious and pleasing personality to be around.
Scorpio Sun: Intense and mysterious, Scorpios are known for their alluring and deep nature. They don't reveal everything about themselves upon first meeting which makes them very intriguing to others. These people are very attractive and s*xual in nature. They have a striking physicality, strong and intense presence. They command respect and do not let others cross their boundaries. Out of any other sign, this sun sign fears betrayal the most, which makes them skeptical and secretive. This doesn't necessarily mean they are liars, but it takes awhile to develop trusting bond with them. Scorpios are the master of transformation- they aren't the same person they were yesterday. A healthy Scorpio sun is always trying to be a better version of themselves. They love deeply and passionately. If you betray them, they will never forget what you did to them, they hold grudges forever. They can forgive but for them it will never be same as it was. Do not lie to them, they are extremely intuitive and will find out. They suspect the unexpected. Scorpio is a fixed, water sign.
Sun in 8th: Driven to understand the depths of the nature of themselves and others, this placement is not satisfied with service level conversation. Topics of psychology, astrology, the occult, s*x, and other taboo subjects peak their interest. They are magnetic and powerful. Sun in the 8th shines in the unknown and is fascinated with mysterious topics. They have a powerful intuition and deep connection to the universe. People may want to give them things or money all the time. They can be assertive and controlling in conflicts with others, they know how to manipulate the situation in their favor, this is definitely part of their appeal. Striving for deep connections that help them to grow and evolve, Sun in 8th goes through many intense and powerful transformations throughout life. It is possible that they have had a number of traumatic and life altering experiences forcing them to change and adapt ubruptly.
Sagittarius Sun: The average Sagittarius is a carefree spirit always on the hunt to experience something knew. Where they go, what they do and what they learn about life becomes their philosophy. A Sagittarius suns ultimate goal in life is to explore the entire earth, talk to many different people and take on all the opportunities presented their way. They love to debate and experience different belief systems, many of them have a higher understanding of life itself. Truly a pleasure to be around, Sagittarians have a wonderful sense of humor and a larger than life demeanor. Generous, philosophical, and joyful are just few of the abundant qualities they have. Behind the scenes, Sagittarius can be very diligent and passionate workers. They love the chase, so accomplishing that next goal is quite exciting for them! These natives behave similarly in love, it can be hard for them to stay committed to one person for too long. There is a restless energy about them and a lot of Sagittarius’ suffer from FOMO. Although they can be pretty open minded, some are very dogmatic in their beliefs. Sagittarius are very optimistic and bright- they are great at cheering up their loved ones and are inspiring when they give speeches. They are extremely convincing in what they say, but they may not always follow through on their promises. Overall, this is an extremely lucky, honest and confident personality. It’s often hard not to like a Sagittarius Sun. Sagittarius is a mutable, fire sign.
Sun in 9th: Happiness comes from Travel, meeting people of a different culture, and learning something new! Sun in 9th individuals shine when they are teaching others about their personal philosophies or topics they are passionate about. They may be well educated and successful in pursuit of higher learning. These natives are often interested in writing and public speaking. Speaking their mind is extremely important to them. Their focus tends to be on the big picture and known for their optimistic, bold worldly views. A big focus for Sun in the 9th house is to chase adventure or the next big thing. They shine the brightest whenever they are being open minded to other peoples perspective and sharing their abstract views on life. Generally, the Sun loves to be in the 9th house because it represents spiritual growth and is also at one of the highest points in the chart. It’s important to them to always be learning, always trying something new or exploring different areas. It’s possible that they take awhile to settle down and life or end up moving abroad. These people life is all about the journey, their purpose is to travel and educate others about their experiences. Although their truth may be objective, it is still valid and worth giving a listen. Sun in 9th is a wise, lucky and optimistic placement to have. If you love these individuals, you must learn how to let them be free.
Capricorn Sun: Responsible, diligent, and powerful, Capricorn suns are a force to be reckoned with. They are often mature for their age and find happiness in working their way to the top and accomplishing their goals. Their attitude is sarcastic and serious- it is possible they come off a cold to others who are more on the emotional side. Often times, these people had to grow up very quickly and had a lot of pressure put on them from a young age. They achieve a lot throughout their lifetime and shine in those areas of life. But don’t get them wrong, they have a fun side, it’s just expressed more with people they are comfortable and close with. The Capricorn Sun motto is slow and steady win the race. You will not see these people half a*sing their projects- they give 100% effort 100% of the time. This is something that Capricorn Suns are and should be proud of. Although they are slow and methodical, they are far from lazy. They are protective of their loved ones and would much rather show their love by actions than tell you how much they love you. With this Sun sign, you want to look at their actions, not their words. Although they are private, they make great friends and are in it for the long haul. They take their relationship’s seriously. Their purpose is to persevere and succeed! Capricorns thrive and in structure and bring order to a chaotic world. Capricorn is a cardinal, earth sign.
Sun in 10th: These individuals are meant to succeed and get a lot of recognition in their professional life. Sun in the 10th individuals gain a lot of power through hard work. They are known for being in the public eye in someway and have a strong reputation. In the work place, they are the leaders, managers and CEO of the company. A lot of celebrities have this placement. Who ever and whatever you do, you are known for it. Beware of seeking outside validation too much. The father may have played a big role in these peoples lives or motivated them to be where they are now. Sun in the 10th want to surround themselves with people who are of high status so that they can embody that energy as well. They shine whenever they are able to show off success and take great pride in their accomplishments. Sun in the 10th will spend a lot of time climbing the career ladder. These people are goal oriented, ambitious and dedicated to their success. They are the happiest when they have a pursuit and have a lot going on them professionally. They care a lot about making money and being powerful. A lot of their priorities revolve around being independent and self sufficient. They are destined for success.
Aquarius Sun: Innovative and unique, no two Aquarius’ are the same! This Sun sign is a natural humanitarian and genuinely wants to make the world a better place. They have a reputation for having an awkward, quirky and out of this world personality. It’s harder for them to relate to others because they see the world much differently than main stream society. Aquarius may come off aloof and detached in social settings, although once others understand them- you will find that they are genius! They are very independent and like to do their own thing, although they can suffer from loneliness at times. A lot of Aquarius feel out of place if they don’t have a higher purpose that they are serving or community to fall back on. Often times they feel misunderstood for their uniqueness and out casted for their differences. There is no one else that can define an Aquarius Sun accurately besides themselves, even their Sun sign is hard to understand and explain to outsiders looking in. They shine whenever they embrace their unique interests and embrace their quirky ideas. The right people will support these aliens and see that they are not a dud- they are special! Aquarius Suns are intelligent, future oriented and will make great discoveries throughout this lifetime! Aquarius is a fixed, air sign.
Sun in 11th: These individuals love belonging to a group of friends or a certain community with similar interests to them. Sun in the 11th have a lot of ideas on how to better society at large and make the world a better place. They may be interested in technology, engineering or other tools that they can use to help humanity. They are progressive and innovative for their time. They highly value their friendships and gain a lot of confidence through their supportive relationships. Sun in 11th is a popularity placement as well, they may be well known from your social media or groups that they belong to. Equality and being non judgmental is important to these individuals. They also might be known for their independent views and detached way of moving about the world. Sun in the 11th are trend setters and very influential people in society. These individuals may have a rare, strong and interesting aesthetic that sets them apart from the rest. Sun in the 11th can stand out for the way that they speak, communicate or their genius intelligence. Others have a hard time understanding them, never knowing what they are going to do next, keeping people on their toes!
Pisces Sun: Compassionate, self sacrificing and magical, Pisces are known for their unconditional, soft, spiritual love. They are imaginative, day dreamers who enjoy art, poetry or anything that pulls them into a different reality. Their an extremely intuitive sign that may pick up on the mood of those around them. They may have a difficult time differentiating their own feeling from others. They genuinely enjoy helping others and they take great pride in the level of love they are able to give. Being empathetic is not an option for them, it is hard for them not to care about everyone and everything. They are very sensitive, which can be overwhelming for them at times. Escapism can be fun for them but if they are not careful they can become to detached from their reality. It is important that they temperament their romanticism for life and relationships so they don’t get taken advantage of. They want to see the good in others and they find it easy to, but if they aren’t careful they could be victim to falling in love with the idea of someone instead of the culprit themselves. Pisces are connected to the universal collective and benefit from a connection to a higher power. They shine when they have a servitude attitude, manipulation does not serve them well. It is important for them to give out of a place of want and not to get something in return. Pisces Suns are great lovers, sweet and spiritual souls.
Sun in 12th: Here, an individual with Sun in the 12th house will dedicate a lot of time to understanding the hidden mysteries of the universe. They understand the spiritual realm better than anybody else. This is a powerful but confusing position for the Sun. The Sun represents what is seen and clear and the 12th represents the unseen and is very mystical in nature. So here the native will have access to a lot of secrets of the universe. Their spirituality may be very important to them. It’s is important that they do not over indulge in dr*gs, alc*hol, or escapist tendencies, for this can be very harmful to the 12th houser and their loved ones. Life can be very dreamy and magical for these people use their power for good. However, they have bad intentions it will be illuminated very quickly and their manipulation will take them down the wrong path. This is how people with this placement do end up isolated, in mental hospitals and and prisons. Although, they can work in mental hospitals, prisons, and find a lot of success in these hidden areas of life. 12th house suns may need a lot of sleep and time to recharge alone to be their happiest. They are known for their low social battery and isolating tendencies. They shine and are their happiest whenever they are using their creative talents and taking great care of their inner world. Sun in 12th is very intuitive, compassionate, selfless individuals; they may be psychic and receive messages through dreams and meditation.
Thank you so much!
Let me know if you relate, disagree or want to add in the comments! I love to hear your feedback. If there is anything you want me to teach or share let me know :)
Have a wonderful rest of your and thanks so much for reading ❤️ I spent a lot time on this one so I really hope y’all like it hehehe
#astro community#astrology#sun signs#astrology signs#zodiac#sun through the houses#aries sun#taurus sun#gemini sun#cancer sun#leo sun#virgo sun#libra sun#scorpio sun#sagittarius sun#capricorn sun#aquarius sun#pisces sun
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I’m seeing too much of this across all channels and I need to write a little something on my humble blog with my humble amount of followers, because how else am I going to get this off my chest.
Some of you need to remember that this whole world we created is pure, fiction. It’s based off fiction and we are building off fiction, forking off in different directions with characters we love.
The canon vs fanon debate is ongoing and quite honestly, mind numbingly pointless and you all consistently contradict and overlap one another with whatever discourse you’re riding that week. You lot wanna argue a point by saying, “these are my hc’s and I can do what I like with them stop taking everything so seriously teeheehehehe” then uno reverse that the next minute by screaming, “that would never happen *insert name* is this or is that” but fuck canon right? Fuck JKR? Or is it more, fuck the parts of canon I don’t like and I’ll take the parts I do so I can shove them down the throats of creators who represent these characters in an opposing light. The amount of posts I’ve seen floating around these sites that are people preaching to their audiences about how dumb they are (unless it’s meant to be satire, I’m not a brainless sensitive lump with no humour bone) for liking certain things, or enjoying certain things, or preferring certain aspects in a character is astounding. Take pause before jumping on your high horse over a fictional character and shaming people for moulding them into what they enjoy. Is this not the beauty of fiction, imagination; the ability to twist and turn over different traits and appearances within our palms and make them into our own little dress up dolls?
Here’s my two cents as a WOLFSTAR artist, not a Marauders— if I want to make Sirius into a teacup and Remus into a sea slug and have him curl up to sleep every night in his bowl, then I’ll do that with fine china detail. If I want to make Sirius someone who refuses to wear nothing but a specific shade of tangerine and Velcro strapped trainers, I will. One day I might throw Moony into a boxing ring and have him be a middleweight champion, stained by the blood of his opponent whilst his wolf is chomping at the bit to come out just before the full moon threatens to take centre stage. If I want to make Sirius 6ft tall and Remus 5ft1, I will. Why not draw an AU of them as the rocks from Everything, Everywhere All At Once? Maybe, they can be something as simple as a boy and a boy who look the way you want them to look, fuck the way you want them to fuck and fall in love and fight, and scream, and cry, and make up a million different ways.
Let’s get more specific as the seal’s broken. Why not make Remus plus sized and give him a beard or a dad’s bod at age 23. Or maybe because he’s lighter haired he doesn’t have dark hair like that and only has a smattering of it across the ugliest of his scars. Consider this— moony with softer hips but fuller sturdy shoulders. Or long, slender limbs with a deceptively hidden strength owing to his wolf, stronger than James though he doesn’t look it. Onto Sirius, try to tell me I’m not going to put him in thigh highs and fem the shit out of him whilst he holds a bat in one hand covered in the blood of someone who tried to disrespect his Moons. Alert the press when someone erases every single one of his tattoos only to replace them with hyperpigmentation. What about giving him a beater’s build and a long thick trail of naval hair that he likes to call his ‘seeker’s delight’. What about a hairless Sirius who has a soft life and likes to make herself pretty for her 6ft 4 boyfriend every weekend when he gets on the train to visit.
How about, I stick with my personal holy take on the boys and present you with a harmless middle ground where Moony is whatever the fuck I want him to be physically, emotionally, or characteristically but always a wet fucking cloth for Sirius. A grape, under a thumb, you could say. And a Sirius, who is too whatever I want him to be physically, emotionally, or characteristically but will always be Moony’s biggest cheerleader.
Stay with me whilst I offer you the brain stretching, risky, taboo thought for you to ponder on: stop trying to please people. Stop absorbing all these takes that pressure you into thinking you’ve got to include every fucking thing that shaves you down and boxes you into their squeaky clean little creator! Indulge in what you like. Make it public, make it known and make it as loud as you want. Feels good on this side of freedom.
Lastly, quick (none of this has been quick) circle back to myself being a Wolfstar artist, not a Marauders one. I will not be shamed into drawing the women in this fandom, I will not try to even out my art with equal parts women and men, in fear of being called misogynistic. I came here for Wolfstar and I stay for them; I get 95% of my muse from them and enjoy drawing these idiots nearly every single day when I can. I’ve a busy life, a job, the luxury of a family that love me and a couple friends I’d like to keep too. If and when I draw, it’s going to be what I want to draw and want to indulge in, not to check off your boxes of inclusion. I am not going to defend my choice of indulgence to you. I am not going to refute women or wlw ships and in fact, eat up stories or art where they’re prominent. Will I have muse or will to do a piece on them? Probably not. If I do, I will and if it’s not done to a standard deemed appropriate enough by the council, well shit I hope I get an honourable mention in one of your hate threads on Twitter.
Grow up. I am the type of person who has a more or less rigid taste on these boys and what I, enjoy representing them like and you runts will run your throats hoarse before I turn an ear. I am not the type of person to see someone who doesn’t like what I prefer and start slamming my keyboard and slap them with a red card. I’ll move on but appreciate the take in silence. Some of you really, come across like you’re stomping your feet in a tantrum, some of you sound like you’ve never been told to shut the fuck up a day in your life and some of you, some of you, really think you’re a messiah.
Fuck your canons, fanons and righteous attitudes towards people who are quite literally, not real. You are not a deity of the Marauders, you are a fucking loser offline just like the rest of us.
#mad you think this place can be schooled into your desires#I’m going to read this over and find six thousand errors#this is why I hate being online#but that’s where the good stuffs at too#a paradox of pain#the emotional intelligence#the intellectual buoyancy in general around here#slim pickings#midday and a migraine is heading straight for me I can tell#what do I tag this#remus#sirius#wolfstar#the usual then#remus lupin#sirius black#marauders era#marauders#atyd#roman you’re rubbing off on me
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The Doctor is a tragic character in the best Greek tragedy tradition.
So y'all know how the most common driving factor for intelligence to develop in species is if they're social? (Octopi aren't very social but let's ignore that real quick, the Doctor's a vertebrate anyway so invertebrate intelligence can probably be dismissed as irrelevant) Because after a point, more intelligence isn't really needed to avoid danger or gather food. But more intelligence does make it possible to communicate more efficiently, form more complex social bonds, eventually develop culture. Cue why social species tend to be more intelligent than solitary ones of otherwise comparable lifestyle. And cue why humanity is the way it is.
Now look at Gallifreyans. (I am purposefully ignoring the Timeless Child thing bc I don't rlly believe it and besides, even assuming it's true, The Doctor is similar enough to Gallifreyans to have flawlessly believed himself/themselves/herself to be one for 13+ regenerations, so anything that can be concluded to be true from analysis of Gallifreyans has good basis to be presumed true about the Doctor, whatever the fuck semantics you wanna use) So, Gallifreyans. A species much more advanced than according to DW canon humanity will ever be. More intelligent than humanity. High levels of education and not on the basis of private tutoring. Lives in cities. Has complex language and technology capable of instantly translating pretty much any language of any other species to be understandable to them. (Hell the TARDIS consistently still translates shit to English for the companions while they're outside it.) Complex social structure. That's one fucking social species.
And it gets better. The TARDIS is meant to be operated by a team of six. And even if River was joking about six, it's still clear that it should at least be more than one. Compare the Doctor steering the TARDIS alone to when he was with Susan. I mean, even those two looked like they could use an extra hand. Have you ever seen a human private use vehicle designed with 2+ pilots in mind? Definitely a species more social than humanity.
And the telepathy thing? Hello? Insanely, mind-boggingly social species.
Now take a being this fundamentally social and do something to them so that they see no recourse other than to take one (1) same-species (as far as he was aware disclaimer ig) companion, steal a ship they have little to no clue how to pilot, leave everything and everyone they've ever known and run without ever stopping for breath, no matter how much they miss home, no matter if it hurts. (And I do believe something must have happened to make him run like that, since the beggining, way before the Time War) Have them be scorned, judged, punished, mistreated and rejected by their species, again and again, for ages. Have them love, again and again, only to always lose everyone they've cared about, through abandonment or death. Have them essentially be forced to exterminate their whole species and believe themselves to be the last of their kind, only to be proven wrong by the whole Master situation, which alright is better, but also in some ways is worse. Have them, once again, form deep bonds with companions and once again lose all of them in various varyingly tragic ways until they have no hope left that anyone can ever truly stay for any amount of time even close to satisfactory, that love can for them end in anything but loss and pain. And they can't even avoid love altogether in an effort to spare themselves the inevitable agony of losing loved ones, because they're incapable of not growing to care for those around them. And they can't be without company either, because their sanity goes straight to hell in a handbasket within like,, 5 minutes of being alone.
Let me remind you this is not a human we're talking about. It's a member of a species much more inherently social than humanity. My point?
The Doctor is literally more lonely than the human brain can comprehend.
#*shoves this at any and all unfortunate people*#doctor who#the doctor#classic who#nuwho#doctor who meta#or at least i think it is?#first doctor#war doctor#ninth doctor#tenth doctor#eleventh doctor#twelfth doctor#thoughts tm
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invisible string pt. 2⋆
hello everyone! i am so thankful for the amount of love on my last short story... thank you! one of my dearest friends requested a part two to this small story, so here it is.
enjoy!
warnings: fem!reader x tomblyth, pure fluff, use of Y/N.
Your jog home seemed effortless, due to the energy you had surrounding your newfound date with Tom. Sure, you’d just met him. Sure, he could be scary. But God, was he pretty. His blue eyes held nothing but kindness - something that seemed to be rare nowadays.
Now, jogging through your neighborhood, everything is alive. The streets are full, horns honking, and people buzzing. It was all setting the stage for a beautiful, happy day.
As you enter your townhome, you immediately take off your shoes, not even undoing the laces. You’re wriggling out of your leggings as soon as you hit the bathroom tile, throwing your airpods on the ground and not caring where they went. You simply couldn’t wait to get ready for coffee with Tom.
Although it might have been the quickest shower yet, you made sure to make yourself squeaky clean and as good-smelling as possible. You laughed at yourself exiting the shower, remembering how you acted on your very first date.
It had been awhile since your last date, no one really catching your eye. It was hard being alone, no doubt. You just had a way of holding out hope for someone who was right for you - someone who gave you butterflies by a mere glance. That someone could be Tom.
You couldn’t explain it, but bumping into him seemed intentional. It seemed like it was meant to happen, like it was all falling into place, a missing puzzle piece perhaps.
You quickly dried your hair and made yourself presentable, adding a small amount of makeup before grabbing your shoes. It had surprisingly been 45 minutes already, most of your time consisted of choosing an outfit. Coffee was nothing fancy, you kept telling yourself. You ended up in jeans, athletic shoes, and a tank top with a black leather jacket over it. Something classy, but cute.
As you reentered the streets, you were greeted with the sounds of the city once again. They gave you a reassuring comfort, showing you that they would be there for you always.
Uour walk to the park was full of many anxiety-ridden questions.
“What if i’m ditched? What if he never calls me after this? Am i going to regret this?”
Of course, none of these thoughts could be backed up by anything. Just you and your silly mind making up reasons to worry. You shook your head slightly, metaphorically expelling all the negative thoughts as you approached your meeting spot.
Unfortunately, you had beat tom there, initiating multiple related thoughts. You sat on a small cobble wall as you waited, pretending to mindlessly scroll while you anticipated his arrival.
5 minutes passed - still no Tom. You were drowning in thoughts now, feeling the pit in your chest slowly start to fully take you over. It was upsetting, but you had trained yourself to prepare for the worst.
Then, as if on cue, a thick british accent yells out your name.
“Hey! y/n!”
You smiled before looking up from your phone. You stood up and placed it in your pocket before walking towards tom.
“Was worried you weren’t gonna show,” you said. you laughed breathily, sticking your hands in your pockets.
“Well, I was worried you wouldn’t show either. Y’know, a strange man asking you for coffee isn’t quite common these days, haha.”
You look down at your shoes and crack a small joke, “Glad you’re self - aware.”
Tom laughs and clasps his hands together before asking if you’re ready to head to the coffee shop. You nod your head yes and you two embark on the short walk to the coffee spot.
The walk is filled with short jokes and quiet conversation, anything to try and fill the silence. It was a little awkward, but nothing some coffee couldn’t fix!
Tom opened the door for you as you entered the coffee shop, the aroma quickly taking over your senses.
“I love the smell of coffee,” you sigh. You look up and smile at tom, fully acknowledging the massive height difference between you two.
He practically begs for your coffee order, insisting that he pays. Once you give in, he tells you to pick a spot and he will return with the drinks shortly.
You choose a small two seat table close to the pickup spot for the drinks. You use this time to fully admire tom’s profile (because duh).
His chocolate hair is still laying across his forehead messily, and his hands are sitting in the front of his jacket pockets. He was unbelievably hot, yet he was mixed with something so innocently cute as well.
You quit staring as he approached with both coffees in hand, his gummy smile spreading to your face as well.
“I’ve never been here before, do you come here often?” You asked.
You took a sip of your coffee, feeling the hot liquid run down your throat. It was some of the best coffee you’d had.
“Yeah, this is actually one of my favorite places. I come here all the time when i get a chance to.”
He smiled and looked down at his coffee. Lord he was so perfectly crafted! You smiled and complimented the coffee before you two conversed on about random things.
Before you know it, two hours have gone by and all the awkwardness has disappeared. You had learned many things about Tom: he was an actor (wow, really?), he was very intelligent, he was from birmingham, and he owned a motorcycle. These were just a few of the things that stuck out to you, but there was truly so much to like about him.
He had slipped a few flirty jokes in whenever he could, but you tried your best you expect the worst once again. Your hopes had continuously bet let up before, you weren’t going to let a handsome Brit come in and ruin you.
As you exited the coffee shop, he stood across from you as you both said goodbye.
“It was really nice getting coffee with you, y/n. you’re really sweet,” he said. He smiles down at you and you make eye contact.
“Thank you, Tom. I really enjoyed it too! I appreciate the coffee as well, it was really good.”
Tom nodded, not saying anything.
Had you really made something out of this? Did you really think this boy could ever like you? What were you thi-
Your thoughts quickly stopped as he stepped closer to you and gently grabbed your face, pulling you in for a soft kiss. His lips were soft and they tasted like vanilla. His hands were cold on your face, but you didn’t mind.
The kiss didnt last long as he pulled away, eyes closed and smiling. You looked at him with wide-eyes as he took both your hands into his.
“I could tell you were lost in thought.”
You opened your mouth to say something, but no words came out. He laughed.
“I’ll meet you here again, yeah? Would tomorrow work for you? Breakfast?”
You couldn’t believe your ears. He was asking you on another date?
“Yeah - I - I mean that sounds perfect!”
He smiled and quickly gave you a kiss on your cheek before heading off. You prayed he didn’t see you jump around like a little girl.
Your walk home filled with phone calls to your friends, explaining the dreamy man you had just met up with. They all seemed happy for you.
You were happy too. About halfway through your walk home, you popped in your airpods to keep the mood going.
The first song that played was “Invisible String."
#coriolanus snow#coriolanus x you#billy the kid#tom blyth#corio snow#coryo snow#coryo x reader#tom blyth x reader#tom blyth x you#tbosas#fluff#cafe aesthetic#invisible string#actor#x reader
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Drawing OCs ☆