#i hate this i hate them why do i always have to be the brave one reaching out and thinking abt ppls feelings and debasing myself for nothing | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

moonstruckme · 3 months

Note

hey mae! it’s been awhile since i’ve sent an ask but im always reading your work girl! i love how you write tbh. if you’re up to it do you think you could write something with poly marauders, where the reader has trouble eating and making themself eat due to poor appetite. my appetite really does come and go and ever since covid (maybe before) it’s like eating makes me feel revolted. sometimes i just don’t feel like eating bc of other things like depression, adhd, anxiety. i was just wondering if you could write something with the boys helping out the reader with finding out what sounds good, cooking, and eating if possible. sometimes having someone around to talk to and hang out with makes it so much easier to deal -🌶️

Hey Pepper, thank you sm! And thanks for being patient with me <3

cw: lack of appetite, mention of skipping meals

poly!marauders x gn!reader ♡ 1.1k words

The sun’s going down, the last dregs of its light spilling brilliant and golden over the book in your lap, and you can feel your boyfriends starting to get restless. Well, two of them.

“If we’re missing half the ingredients,” Sirius says, trailing James into the kitchen, “it’s not going to be any good.”

James only tsks. “Ye of little faith. That’s what improvisation is for.” He starts pulling things down from the cabinet.

“You’re not even going to glance at the recipe?”

“I don’t need to. I know the general vibe.”

“Help!” Sirius calls towards the living room. “He’s gone off the rails. Remus, come fix it.”

Remus turns around to look over the back of the sofa, his shoulder brushing yours as he does. He’s sitting right up against you despite the couch being empty, not that you mind. Remus is sort of like a cat that wants to be near you but not always to be pet. His touches are often like this, passive gestures like a hand on your head or his thigh pressed against yours. It works for you just fine; you can feel the affection bleeding into you from any point of contact.

“Don’t you think we should just eat out?” Sirius asks, tilting his head and doing that thing with his eyes that you all pretend doesn’t work on you.

Impressively, Remus keeps his face impassive. “I’m having leftover brussels sprouts,” he replies, “so it’s not really my concern. Anyway, James has a good history with not following recipes.”

“Exactly,” James says, grinning at Sirius, who scowls. But then he fixes his gaze on Remus. “So why are you having that, Rem? Have what I’m making.”

“Because they’re going to go bad, and I’m not hungry enough for a big meal.” The last part is said somewhat quieter, directed towards the living room as he turns back around and picks up his own book.

Out of the corner of your eye, you can see James frown, but he glances at Sirius and they seem to collectively decide not to push it. Remus’ appetite isn’t much better than yours. He has his better days, but it’s not uncommon for him not to feel up to what your other boyfriends would consider a whole meal or to eat only chocolate until Sirius hounds him into something more substantial.

James looks to you hopefully. “You’ll have some, won’t you sweetheart?”

You wince, hating to let him down, and from the look on James’ face he clocks the guilt in your expression before even you get a chance to say, “I don’t think I’m really up to it tonight, either.”

James deflates, but he’s clearly trying to put on a brave face. “That’s alright. I think I’ll just save it for another night, then.”

“I’m sorry,” you say, setting your book facedown on the armrest and turning around to face him more fully. “You could still make it and just put leftovers in the freezer. Maybe I’ll have some tomorrow.” You wince again as soon as you say it. No promises, though.

The smile James gives you is comforting if not totally satisfied. “It’s okay. I’ll just make it another time, it’s not a problem.”

You return his smile, close-lipped. Sirius is looking at you with narrowed eyes, arms crossed like he’s sizing you up.

“What are you going to eat?” he asks.

“Hm?”

“What are you going to have instead?” You hesitate, and he tilts his head knowingly, a piece of hair slipping from behind his ear to drape over his shoulder. “You need to have something, especially since you didn’t have lunch.”

From the kitchen, James looks at you. “You didn’t?”

“I just…don’t feel like it.” It’s a feeble argument even to your own ears, and the look Sirius gives you says that he thinks so, too.

“You can’t miss two meals,” he says obstinately. “Even Remus is having some brussels sprouts.”

You look to Remus to be offended at the even Remus comment, but he only shrugs. You’re on your own.

“What sounds good?” he asks you.

You try not to pout. “Nothing. Everything sounds gross.”

“C’mon, baby.” Sirius leans against the countertop. “It doesn’t have to be strictly dinner food, yeah? Just anything that sounds like you’d be willing to eat it.”

You think for a minute. Remus touches the back of his hand to your leg, knuckles soothing over the skin beside your knee.

“I guess…ice cream sounds okay,” you say hesitantly. “But I know that’s not exactly nutritious…”

“Would a milkshake be close enough?” James pipes up.

You shrug. “I guess.”

He grins. “I can do that for you, love. Just gimme a sec.”

James is a loud cook. You go back to your book while cabinet doors slam and the blender whirs and you hear a muffled “oh, shit” as something is undoubtedly dropped on the floor, but a minute later he’s bringing you a glass of something thick and chocolate-y looking. You smile at the added garnish of mint and a straw, reaching for it.

“Thanks, Jamie.”

He winks. “Anytime.”

Remus is the only one courteous enough not to obviously watch while you take a sip, and you feel your eyebrows raise as you look up at James.

“This is really good,” you say. He practically glows at the praise. “I didn’t even know we had chocolate ice cream.”

Sirius barks a laugh, and James’ smile widens.

“What?” you ask.

“We don’t,” he admits. “Will it ruin your appetite if I tell you it’s not actually ice cream?”

You shake your head, sucking at the straw. “I’m already drinking it, so.”

James beams. He really is looking very proud of himself. “It’s a protein shake. A pretty balanced meal, actually.”

“Nice!” You grin at him, taking another hearty slurp mostly because you know it’ll please him. “It’s perfect, thank you.”

“Gotta keep our sweetheart fed,” he says, bending down for a kiss. Sirius and Remus’ hums of approval nearly harmonize, and you and James share an elated look while they both do their best to pretend like it didn’t happen.

“Can I try?” Remus asks, and you tilt the cup towards him in invitation.

He wraps his lips around your straw, sipping hesitantly. He looks mildly impressed.

“Could you make me one of those too?”

From the look on James’ face, he’d be delighted to. “Course, love.” He plants a smacker on Remus’ cheek and nearly knocks Sirius over as he beelines for the kitchen.

“This is just excellent,” Sirius gripes, but you see the satisfaction in his expression. “Now that you two have blown up his ego, I’ll have to eat something he makes too.”

“Correct,” James says brightly. “And you should be so lucky.”

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steddieas-shegoes · 1 year

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A little thing based on this post because it wouldn’t leave my brain:

“I just don’t understand why you won’t try to read it.”

Steve had heard Dustin say this exact sentence hundreds of times at this point.

“I mean, do you know how to read?”

Mike was an asshole. Steve loved him because he was part of the group and he’d been through the same things, but he was such a dick.

“Yes, I know how to read. I just don’t.”

Dustin rolled his eyes.

“If you don’t wanna read nerd shit just say so.”

Steve threw his arms up in frustration.

Steve was a nerd at heart. As a child, he would beg the nanny to take him to the library and the science museum that had real dinosaur fossils. There was something about the peace of exiting his reality and finding a new one among fantasy and history that was indescribable, even to this day.

But as he grew into his looks, he grew out of that phase. At least around others.

And with no nanny around to take him places, he settled for just being the popular guy who hung out with his friends after practice and threw parties at his forever empty house on Saturdays.

But secretly, he still found himself enjoying books late into the night. Never school books, or his grades would’ve been good enough for college, but always incredible novels that took him to other worlds with the most impressively brave people.

And then he lived a nightmare. A few times over. With concussions at every turn.

Now, anytime he tried to read, his head started pounding, his vision got blurry, and ears would start ringing. He stopped trying altogether after Starcourt, but he’d never really let go his love of books.

He occasionally let Robin read to him, but she would get distracted by a plot or character and go on a tangent, leaving Steve confused about what the actual story was. He hated being confused.

“Stevie, you got a minute?”

Eddie had been watching from his spot at the end of the table, where he’d been cleaning up the mess of D&D. He usually made the kids do it, but he’d let them off the hook tonight when they beat the monster and escaped his trap.

Steve and Eddie were friends, definitely. Maybe not close ones, but friends.

Steve had a little crush, definitely. Or a big one. Maybe.

So when Eddie shows him attention, he somewhat shamefully receives it like he’s dying of thirst in a desert.

Robin is the only one who’s noticed so far, but if he keeps acting like a dog being called by his master anytime Eddie talks to him, someone else will comment on it.

“Yeah, what’s up?” Steve asked as he made his way to Eddie.

The kids took this time to talk amongst themselves about the game and what they think will happen next week, and Steve couldn’t have been more grateful.

“You don’t have to tell me, but.” Eddie was tapping his fingers nervously against his leg. “Do you not know how to read?”

“Uh. No I do. I mean I graduated high school. I know it’s hard to believe.”

“Not judging if you can’t, man. I mean, I took three senior years. I’m the last person who can judge.”

“Yeah, but you’re smart. You just didn’t like school,” Steve replied with a pat to his shoulder.

Eddie glanced down at the contact, eyebrow raising and then falling back to normal quickly.

“Just seems like you’d have read something by now to get them off your ass.”

And that’s a really good point. Maybe he should’ve just suffered through a migraine so they’d leave him alone about it.

But migraines left him out for days sometimes, and he couldn’t exactly afford that right now.

“I guess it’s just not worth the migraine.”

He hadn’t meant to actually say it. He didn’t want Eddie to feel bad or for him to try to make him feel better about it or ask questions or talk about the concussion thing.

Actually, did he even know about the concussion thing? Things?

“You get migraines when you try to read?” Then realization hit Eddie hard. “Steve. Do you like reading?”

Something about the way Eddie was looking at him, like he was sad for him but not pitying him, made Steve want to cry.

“I used to, yeah.”

“Everyone out! Your parents are gonna have to come get you! No questions, no explanations, go!” Eddie yelled to the room.

Everyone stared blankly at him before they started protesting, Dustin loudest of all.

“Steve’s my ride!”

“Not anymore. Hitch a ride with Lucas.”

“But Lucas’ mom always squeezes my cheeks and tells me she hopes I never lose my baby fat.”

“She speaks for all of us. Get the hell out of here!”

Steve was actually impressed. Maybe a little turned on? God, he was a disaster.

As everyone cleared out of the room, Eddie patted the seat next to him. When Steve sat down, Eddie scooted his chair so close to him, his knees were touching Steve’s.

“Alright, so you’re gonna tell me about what books you like and what books you want to read and we’re gonna get started.”

Steve blinked at him. “Huh?”

“You have a list I’m sure.”

“Yeah, but…”

“Okay, then we better get started.”

“I mean, I’ve tried. I appreciate it, but even focusing on one page makes my eyes burn and my head hurt.”

“Got that. I’m not asking you to read.”

Sometimes Steve was worried the concussions had actually knocked some screws loose. He wasn’t getting it.

“I’m gonna read to you, Stevie.”

“You don’t have to do that. I’m sure a lot of them will be movies and I can just watch them.”

“It’s not the same. You know it’s not.”

He was right. Steve didn’t have much patience for movies. And sometimes even those gave him migraines if there were a lot of bright lights and explosions.

“Yeah. But still. You don’t have to do that. You might not even like the books.”

“Ah, this isn’t a completely free service, my liege.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “I don’t have extra money to pay you, dude.”

“Not money. I get to pick a book to read to you when we finish the first book you pick.”

“Is it The Hobbit?”

“It is,” Eddie looked so smug.

“Well, that was my first choice,” Steve stared back, equally as smug.

“So, your house is empty.”

“Yep.”

“And I’m assuming you own this book.”

“I do.”

“And it’s getting late.”

Steve looked out the window at the pitch black skies.

“It’s late.”

“So I could stay and read you to sleep.”

“Won’t I miss some of the book?”

“I’ll stop when you’re asleep.”

Steve’s heart was practically begging him to say yes. Eddie reading to him in his bed? Possibly falling asleep together? Maybe even waking up together? It couldn’t be a better proposition. Well. It could.

“Will you stay even if I fall asleep?”

Eddie smirked. “If that’s what you want, sweetheart.”

It wasn’t the first time he’d called Steve that, but it was the first time it felt like he meant it in a non-teasing way.

“Okay.”

So they both changed into some of Steve’s comfy clothes, got into his bed, and Eddie started reading The Hobbit.

Just as he was during D&D and real life, Eddie was animated, providing different voices for different characters and often giving long pauses to let Steve soak in what the words meant.

Steve didn’t even have to ask him to do that. He just did.

Steve fell asleep somewhere between halfway and the end of chapter two, but Eddie stayed.

And they woke up the next day with Steve’s head resting on Eddie’s chest, Eddie’s arms wrapped around him to keep him as close as possible.

They finished the The Hobbit in a week, and because Eddie was now committed to making sure Steve was well-read, they started moving through his list rapidly, falling for each other in new ways every time Eddie turned a page.

Part 2 (Angst) / Part 2 (Fluffy) / Part 2 (Explicit)

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #tumblr drabbles #ao3fic #headcanon #secret nerd Steve Harrington

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strangersteddierthings · 1 year

Text

Shovel Talk(s) Part One

Part One 🦇Part Two🦇Part Three🦇Part Four

Steve and Eddie aren't even together when Steve gets the Shovel Talk from Eddie's uncle, but it is what tips Steve into talking to Eddie about his feelings, so he's not upset by it.

They aren't dating, not because he doesn't want Eddie, because he absolutely does. It's just that he wants to be sure Eddie wants him back. There are times when he's sure, when Eddie gets into his space a bit too close, or more often, than he does with anyone else. Eddie calls him a thousand and one nicknames, ranging from sweet to irritating but just when Steve thinks that's a perk left just for him, Eddie hands someone else a new nickname (just the one, a voice in Steve's head that sounds suspiciously like Robin says).

Not that any of that is the point. Wayne wouldn't bother to give Steve a shovel talk at all unless he knew how Eddie felt. Wayne is a man of action, and he's never done anything unless it mattered. Meant something. Steve and Wayne have sat in plenty of (what Steve considers to be) awkward silences because Wayne doesn't talk to fill the void of silence.

The point is, Steve drops Eddie off at the house the government so graciously bought for the Munsons, walks Eddie to the door and giving Eddie a hug goodbye. He stays on the porch until Eddie shuts the door and then nearly jumps out of his skin when he hears Wayne call out his name.

"Harrington," Wayne says from the shadows of the wrap around porch.

So, Steve jumps and it's only then he notices that Wayne is sitting at the table and chairs set up on the porch. "Mr. Munson, sir, hi. Hello."

Wayne lets out a chuckle, but it doesn't really sound amused. "I have come to accept that you are nothing like your father, boy, but I do want to make it clear to you, that Eddie means more to me than anything else on this Earth."

"I know, sir."

"I know you do. And while I will forever be grateful that you helped return him to me alive, know that I will not hesitate to make you disappear if you hurt my boy in a way he can't bounce back from."

Steve's not afraid of Wayne, not really, but that doesn't stop him from feeling the need to flee. He doesn't, though, because he'd gotten enough shovel talks from concerned parents in high school, and he knows they can sense weakness. "I can't promise I'd never hurt him, sir, but I can promise it'll never be intentional."

He can't actually see Wayne's face in the darkness but he feels sized up all the same.

"I believe that, Steve," Wayne says, and it's the first time Steve's ever heard his name leave the man's mouth, "now go home."

Wayne's shovel talk was expected. Robin's is not.

"You took Eddie on a date date?" She whispers it as though they aren't alone in Steve's living room. They're laying on the floor in a line, heads next to each other so if they turn slightly to the side they can make eye contact. Steve's not sure why they always end up on the floor for Serious Talk Time.

"Yeah," Steve says, looking away from Robin's face to stare up to the ceiling, "I mean, sorta? We can't like... be open that it was a date, but we went to dinner and a movie and it was nice. Shared a popcorn and played footsie under the diner table."

"Whoa," Robin says. "I never thought you'd- didn't think you'd be brave enough to ask him."

"Me either."

"Steve," Robin sounds serious, so Steve turns to look at her. She studies his face for a moment before she's the one to look away, speaks to the ceiling, "be careful with Eddie, yeah?"

"What? Careful how?"

"I just think you could really fuck him up," Robin says. "You're his first boyfriend, right? That's going to set a precedent for relationships that might happen if you two don't work out. And I hate to say this, because I know you've changed, but like, I saw how a lot of those girls you dated in high school ended up when you broke up with them."

Steve's a little hurt, because Robin's his best friend. She should be giving this talk to Eddie, not him. But, also, he understands. He knows that Robin knew about Eddie's sexuality before he did, knows they bonded over being queer while Steve was still figuring himself out.

Steve also knows that Eddie's never been in a relationship before, Eddie'd told him at much when Steve asked him out. Steve doesn't like that Robin implied that he and Eddie will eventually break up, but no matter how much that thought makes Steve's heart ache, he won't know if it'll happen unless it does.

He just doesn't understand why she seems to think he'll be the one breaking Eddie's heart. It could go the other way.

"Did you OD over there?" Robin asks, trying to lighten the mood.

"No," Steve answers, "I'll be careful."

They've been on four more dates before Nancy knocks on his door. She doesn't accept his invitation to come inside. Just starts speaking on his doorstep.

"As Eddie's Capital P Soulmate," is how she starts that sentence, and it makes something hurt deep inside Steve as he tries not to think about Robin, "I am obligated to remind you that I do own several guns now. And I don't miss."

"Jesus Christ," Steve says, because even Wayne was more subtle, "I got it."

"Good. I do know you'd never hurt him on purpose," Nancy says but Steve doesn't feel reassured.

He thinks that, if she really didn't think he's going to end up hurting Eddie she wouldn't have said anything at all. "Right."

"Well, good talk Steve," and then she's walking down the driveway and climbing into her car.

He closes the door and goes to the kitchen to get himself a beer, mostly so he has something to do besides stew in his emotions. He wonders if Eddie has been given the shovel talk, too? Maybe Robin did the same thing Nancy just did. Showed up unprompted, threatened Eddie with some sort of bodily harm, and then just left.

Steve grabs the phone and dials Eddie's number.

"Hello?" Eddie's voice greets him, albeit questioningly.

"Eddie, it's Steve."

"Oh, hello sweetheart," Eddie says, "are you calling for business or pleasure?"

Steve laughs, "business."

"Boo!"

"Listen, uh, I had a question. I just wanted to know if anyone's said anything to you. About us. Or, y'know, specifically about us and our relationship?"

"Uh, not really? A few congratulations, I guess. Why? Did someone say something?" Eddie's voice is level, almost too level, so Steve knows he's trying to keep cool.

"Oh, no! No! I mean, aside from the scary shovel talk from- Wayne, everyone's been surprisingly cool about it. Very supportive," Steve says and even though it's true, everyone they've told has been cool about it, it feels a little bit like a lie.

Eddie laughs, "I can't believe my uncle gave you a shovel talk! You know, I keep expecting to get one from Robin but so far nothing. She must think you're safe in my capable hands."

Steve is safe in Eddie's hand, he thinks, but that doesn't stop the sting that goes through him. "Of course, she does. You've been a perfect boyfriend."

There's a pause before Eddie's voice comes through the phone, soft and quiet, "I'm glad you said so. I want to be. For you."

"You're not allowed to say those kinds of things when you aren't within kissing distance, babe," Steve says, because if he doesn't add humor to this conversation, he's going to tell Eddie he loves him instead, and even Steve knows that saying that a month into dating is too soon, especially over the phone where he can't see Eddie's reaction.

Eddie laughs and makes kissing sounds at him before the conversation shifts to chatting about the day and making plans for the weekend.

Steve is trying really hard to not be the person he was in high school but every time he gets to the point where he's being a better person, someone brings up how he used to be. Shoves it back into his face that no matter what Steve does he can't outrun his past.

One such time is shortly after Steve and Eddie accidentally come out as a couple to all of Hellfire. Steve was just dropping off the boys and had stepped inside to chat a bit. Once game time had arrived it had and Steve made to leave, they'd (he and Eddie) had been on autopilot. Eddie'd whined 'where's my goodbye kiss?' and Steve had stepped over, kissed him goodbye, and was out the door before it had actually computed.

Steve had burst back through the door, rushing back to Eddie, because no way in Hell was he going to leave his boyfriend to deal with whatever the consequences would be alone.

It had been absolute chaos at the table with people shouting over each other.

"Of all the people you could be with, you picked Steve!? You could do better!" Mike had whined, and Steve had thought for sure he was the only one who had heard Mike until he saw Will punch his arm and hiss his own 'don't be a dick' at Mike.

It took almost half an hour to calm everyone down. It was a relief to know that Eddie had come out to his bandmates/the older Hellfire members already. The kids took it in stride, in the end, and Eddie had shoo'd Steve away.

Jeff had excused himself, too, and Steve thought he was just going to use the bathroom but instead he followed Steve outside.

Ah. Steve knows what's coming.

"Harrington," Jeff says, "can't say I'm excited that you're the secret boyfriend Eddie's constantly sighing wistfully about. I'm sure Wayne's already threatened you," And Robin, and Nancy, and Mike doesn't think he's good enough, "but if you hurt Eddie-"

"I get it! There will be dire consequences if I hurt Eddie," Steve snaps, not down for hearing it anymore. He stomps to his car and peels away from the curb without bothering to look back.

If he's being honest, Steve didn't even know he had a breaking point with shovel talks until he gets his fifth one from Dustin.

It's not even a shovel talk. It's just a single sentence, said almost a month after Dustin learned about their relationship. He's dropping Dustin off after their DnD game. Normally Claudia picks him up, but she's busy tonight and asked Steve to do it.

"Alright, Henderson, safely delivered."

"Thanks, Steve," Dustin says, unbuckles his seatbelt, and opens the door, before turning back to Steve. He just looks at him for a moment.

"What?"

"I'm happy for you and Eddie. Just, don't hurt him, ok?"

He nods his head but can't say anything. Dustin grabs his backpack, shoots him a smile, and climbs out. Steve does wait until Dustin closes the front door behind him before putting the car back in gear.

He manages to get home, somehow, because Steve doesn't fully remember the drive. It's not that his mind was so focused on something else that made him fail to take in his surroundings, but rather that his mind wasn't even a part of his body anymore.

One moment he was pulling away from the Henderson residence, and the next, he was home, just standing in his kitchen in the dark. And now that his thoughts are back, or easier to process, he finds himself wondering why everyone thinks that he's going to be the one to hurt Eddie.

How many people has he hurt that this is his reputation? Is it inevitable that he will hurt Eddie? Is it truly just a matter of time until he breaks Eddies heart? Why is everyone so convinced that he will?

Briefly the thought occurs to him that maybe he should call up Eddie and break up with him right now, before Eddie has a chance to get in deep enough that Steve could break his heart, but just the thought of it breaks Steve's heart, so he's not going to do that. Doesn't want to do that. That would just be punishing Eddie for something he didn't do.

None of this is Eddie's fault, and Steve's an asshole for even thinking of breaking up with him because of it. Which feeds him back into the loop of thinking that maybe everyone is right about him. He is an asshole and will someday hurt Eddie, perhaps even on purpose.

He loves Eddie. He's in love with Eddie. But does loving him mean proving his friends wrong? Or does it mean leaving him before they're proven right?

He wants to ask everyone why they think he'll hurt Eddie.

He wants to ask everyone why they don't care if he's the one that gets hurt.

#steddie #my fic #we like making steve a sad emotional mess right guys?#steve-centric #we gotta make the boy Sad so that his boyfriend can fix him #is that healthy? not IRL but this is fanfic and if i want Love to solve all the problems then im allowed to do that #only itll be in part two #that might get written one day #is steve putting words into his friends' mouths #yeah duh the boy needs therapy but its the 80s so hes not getting any

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cherry-leclerc · 8 months

Text

ruined all my plans ☆ cl16

genre: wolff!reader, secret relationship, humor, enemies to lovers (?? depends how you see it ??), forbidden romance

word count: 6.4k

Toto creates a “hands off” rule over his daughter for all the drivers on the grid. Too late, as it appears Charles might’ve already weasled his way into your heart a long time ago.

Plot line of schematization that runs along George, Carmen, Lily and Alex to figure out who you’re busy hooking up with. All bets are on.

nsfw warning under the cut!

18+...pentrative sex (f and m), biting

inspired by this and this !

One could argue and say that you’re old enough to make your own decisions, and while everyone around you might see that as true, there’s only one person who would disagree.

“I’m being serious.” Your dad walks away without further comment. Chasing after him like a little girl, you find it almost impossible to keep up with him and his long strides. You pant.

“Why would any of this cause an issue?”

Toto comes to a sudden stop as you bump into his back. You let out a slight umph before putting on your brave face. His heels turn as he looks down at you. “Because I said so.” Leaning down he plants a kiss on your forehead before walking away. You scoff as you click your tongue.

Both your dad and yourself had decided it would be a fun idea if you tagged along for some races of the new F1 season since you haven’t for quite a while, but the moment he noticed the way the grid grew nervous, flirtatious, and some even with tongues hanging out, he regretted it.

You had been bickering back and forth when he broke the news to you that you would be flying back home as soon as possible. If teleportation existed I would’ve already sent your ass away, he stated earlier as you glared angrily.

“You know this isn’t a proper excuse to just send me away. I’ve behaved! Not once have I responded to any of the driver's advances.” He knows you’re right, but he ignores you anyway. Susie had always pointed out how his stubbornness always had her fuming and in this moment, in you, he noticed just how annoying it could get.

“I don’t care! If this is something I have to do in order for my daughter to stop being gawked at by every driver, so be it. Now, stop yapping and start packing.”

That was the last straw.

As he walks out of the Mercedes garage to make his way to his drivers he hears fast footsteps. Throwing yourself onto his large back you cling on as if he was a floatie.

“Let go!” He stumbles back and forth as you cover his eyes. Then your arms slide around his large shoulders, squeezing hard. “You're acting like a child!”

“Stop treating me like one then!” This was a bit much, you’ll admit it, but never out loud. You pinch his bicep and he yelps, running like a chicken without a head. You screech as you hold on tighter, head digging into his neck.

“This isn’t going to make me change my mi-” You bite his ear. He tries to push your legs that wrap around his torso, but you just won’t budge. He spins as he groans in pain. He knew you hated to be dizzy, so why not use it against you.

“Cute. Father-daughter quality time.” Lewis smiles as George takes his phone out to record. Toto looks at them with a bright red face.

“Fuck quality time! Get. Her. Off.”

Scurrying over, they each grab a leg. “Let go!” You yell as you turn to look at them, breathing hard.

“Exactly! Let go!” Toto continues to pry your hands off.

Everyone has gathered outside of their garages as they watch in amusement. Carlos bends over laughing.

“She looks like fun, no?”

Taking a sip of water, Charles shakes his head.

“That chicks crazy.”

You, Lewis, and George sit in the Mercedes meeting room silently waiting for Toto. Rocking in his chair impatiently, George grins. “Do you guys want to see the video I took?”

You glare harshly. “My dads not here yet, you wanna be next?” He shuts up as he slides his phone back into his pocket.

A minute passes by before your dad walks in with Avengers stickers covering his ear, hand, and neck. You all stifle a laugh. “You think this is funny?” You nod. His cold stare turns into the kind you’ve only seen the times he’s grounded you.

“You asked!”

He shakes his head in disapproval. “These are Jack’s, so I don’t even want to hear it.” Sliding a chair out in front of you three, he takes a seat. “We need to talk.”

You roll your eyes. “Really? I thought we were all gonna learn how to fly.” George lets out a laugh as Lewis nudges your thigh. Just listen, his gaze warns you.

Toto folds his arms against the tables as he lets out a breath. “I won’t send you home.” Not what you were expecting. Hopping over to him you kiss his cheek as he slightly flinches.

“Thank you, Daddy!”

George raises an eyebrow. “Seriously? If I would ever behave like this with my parents they would ship me to boarding school.” You bite the air.

“Sit down.” You rush back into your seat between the Mercedes drivers. Drumming his fingers against the table he begins. “But I have some rules. Call them…my conditions.” You groan.

“That’s not how this works-”

“No, it’s going to work because I said so!” He takes a moment to relax before continuing. “Look, I spoke to your mother and you were right. I was being unfair.” You clap your hands in delight. “That doesn’t mean what you did was right. But here’s all I ask from you, the same thing as always; don’t date any drivers on the grid.”

You nod profusely. “I promise!” There were some good looking men on the grid, but quite frankly you never found interest. You knew what you’d be getting yourself into if you ever did.

Lewis clears his throat. “This has been super nice and all, but why are we here?” He signals between him and his teammate.

“Right.” Standing up, Toto places both his hands on his waist. “I won’t ask for much.” Turning to look at them he says, “Just ask for you both to watch over her.”

“Like Jesus?”

“George, shut up!” You follow Toto. “Dad, I don’t need them to babysit me. What’s the whole point of not being treated like a baby?”

“That’s what you don’t seize to understand. You are my baby.” He cups your face tenderly. “Those are my circumstances if you want to stick around.” He lets go. “And either way, you said it yourself. You don’t pay much attention to them, so why would this be any different?”

“Fine. Deal.”

“Where are you headed?”

Miami was always a fun place to be at and you wanted to have some fun. Wasn’t this the point of it all?

“I’m just going for a walk around the paddock.”

Lewis stands up like a guard dog as he slides on his sunglasses. “You know what? I’m kind of in the mood for a walk too. Always a good time to show off my outfit.”

Rolling your eyes you reluctantly agree. He’s telling you about Roscoe’s recent “girlfriend” as you both pass the Red Bull garage. Paparazzi stand outside as they wait for any glimpse of Max, but as soon as they see Lewis they immediately rush over. Almost like a force of nature, Lewis coolly poses as he continues walking smoothly.

“Yeah, I can’t do this right now.” Taking advantage of the situation, you dart off.

“Whatever,” Lewis yells out as he continues, entertained by the cameras.

Rushing behind a nearby wall you gasp for air. “Are you okay?”

“Crap!” You fling your hand outwards as you smack someone's hard chest. You look at your fist as you recognize the dark blue fireproofs.

“Ow!” Max yelps as he pushes your arm down. You cringe.

“Sorry! I just thought- nevermind. Are you alright?” He nods.

“Yes. Were you looking for someone?” You notice that in an attempt to get away from the mob you had landed yourself inside the garage of Mercedes’ main rival. You shake your head.

“God, no. I’m sorry, I wasn’t paying attention.” You hum embarrassingly. “I should go now.”

“Hey, I mean you can hide out here with me for a while.”

The way he smiles shyly takes you back to the day he first asked you out. He was nice, but no. You can’t. Tugging out your phone from your back pocket you giggle nervously. “Oh! Would you look at that! It’s my dad calling. I should go before he starts to worry. Bye Max!” You zoom out.

“Yeah, bye…”

“Where were you?” Toto is sitting in the small room he had set up for you when you were on the road with him and the team.

“I went out for a walk.” That wasn’t completely a lie, but if he found out who you were with he would only start World War III. “Wanted to stretch out my legs.” You kick your legs out as you hop up a few times.

He holds out an envelope as you delicately reach out for it. Opening it up you see what’s inside. Pictures of you with Lewis, but as you continue flipping through you see yourself slipping away. It would almost be funny if it weren’t for Toto’s narrowed look. “Where did you run off to?”

“First of all, this is extremely creepy, zero privacy, but nowhere! I came straight back, you know I can’t handle large groups like those.”

Rising up he nods. “If you say so.”

You take a seat next to your dad as you both analyze the race. The Red Bulls are fast, as expected, but Mercedes wasn’t that far off. They might actually get podium if the strategy continued the same.

“C’mon. C’mon.” It was the final lap and George was fighting for third against Fernando. Anxiety filled up your stomach, you could only imagine what George was feeling. “Goddamn it!” You and Toto both curse out as you both slam the headset against the table.

“Every single time.”

You congratulate Lewis and George as they walk in after being weighted. “You guys did good.” You smile as they wipe off their sweat with a small towel.

“Ah, I need a drink. Wanna come out with Carmen and I to the club? A couple other drivers are tagging along.”

“Yes! Okay, just me a second to go back to the hotel and change.” As you run away, Toto strolls over. George gulps.

“Remember…” He warns him as the Brit carefully nods. Of course. You don’t need to worry.

You show up 2 hours late, but it's Miami. The later the better.

“That group right there! I swear I know them.” You had been trying to explain to the security guard that you weren’t some crazy fan and that you did in fact know the group of F1 drivers who had shown up to the VIP section.

“Right and I know Oprah Winfrey…” You furrow your brows. Are you calling me a liar? He shrugs. Just then, Charles walks by and you immediately jump forward, but the guard holds you back.

“Charles!” He turns to look at you as he tries to understand the situation. You’re being held back by the guard as you screech in his arms. He rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, no.” He walks away. Coward! Your body droops into his arms. The tall man drags you out. I swear I know himmmm.

“Yo, is that chick dead?” Your eyes pop open as you hear a familiar voice.

“Daniel! Ah. Thank God! Tell him you know me!” Daniel lets out a loud laugh as he claps his hands in amusement.

“Oh God, this is amazing.” He hurries over to you both. “Yes, I know her.” The bald man looks like he doesn’t quite believe you, but he lets you go either way. Walking side by side you pat the Australians shoulder.

“Thank you so much. You won’t believe how long it’s taken me to try and wheeze myself in.” He grins.

“No problem.” He lets you through first as Carmen rushes over.

“Oh good! I thought you weren’t going to show up.”

“Ran into a bit of trouble, but there’s no way I would’ve missed out on Georgie’s almost win celebration.” George scowls. Bitch, he mutters under his breath. Carmen smacks his head.

Excusing yourself you walk over to the bar as you order yourself a drink. You don’t have to turn to know someone is now standing next to you. You immediately noticed the stack of bracelets. “Hey, dick, what was that all about?’ Charles sighs.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You ignored me! You let them drag me away like a beast!”

He snickers. “You said it, not me.” Slamming your palm against the table you make his drink jump up a bit.

“You are a real piece of shit, y’know that?”

“And you aren’t?”

You toss your head back with a cold laugh before you glare back at him.

“I can’t believe I ever dated you.”

There was a time - where you’re embarrassed to admit now - that you actually fell for a driver's charm.

“Charles,” he introduces himself, as you kick your shoe against your leg nervously. For a while you tried to push away, but somehow, something always led you back to him.

Skipping your way down the paddock you make your way towards the taco stand. Rumors had made their way to you that Scuderia had authentic tacos in honor of the Mexican GP and you just had to go.

The line was long, but you didn’t seem to mind as you answered a few texts.

“Hungry?”

You blush when you notice Charles with his fireproofs. Glistening sweat makes his brown hair connect to his face. He looks so filt-

“Just a tiny bit.” He could’ve easily made his way to the staff to request your plate much faster, but then how else would he talk to you? For an entire hour, his towering height lingered over you as you both stood under the blazing sun. And he was just as perfect as you could have ever imagined. It wasn’t that long after that you both were sneaking in kisses behind Ferrari’ and Mercedes’ motorhome.

“Fuck.” He kisses you hard as his hands slip underneath your shirt. His cold touch makes you shiver as your body jumps up a bit. This causes you to rub yourself against him. He pulls away, eyes screwed shut.

“What’s wrong? Did I do something?”

He shakes his head as he stares down at you with an enamored smile tugging at his pink, swollen lips. “No, it's just that…” You look down at the tent poking through his jeans.

“I could fix that.” Your flirtatious tone is enough for him to fall back against your warm lips. He groans.

“N-no. Not here.” You had both been taking shelter behind the Mercedes garage in order to not be caught, but still, this was risky. You sigh as your arms drop to your sides.

“You’re right.” He gives you one last peck as he rushes off to his media duties. Walking through the sliding doors the first person you see is George signing a few hats. He looks up.

“My word, did someone punch your lips?” You rush over to a nearby mirror as you take in your appearance. Your lipstick was everywhere. Bring up your sleeve, you quickly try brushing away.

“Not a word of this to my dad.”

And no he never told Toto, but he knew he couldn’t hold onto this by himself.

“...It has to be someone on the grid. But who…” Carmen, George, Lily, and Alex had gone out on a double date when the Brit spilled the beans.

“What if it’s Max? Have you seen the way he looks at her!” Lily exclaims as she purses her lips. Alex shakes his head in disagreement.

“No. It definitely has to be Carlos. I mean look at him! That’s straight up her type.” Oh. I didn’t even think of that one, Lily pouts.

“You both got it wrong, it’s Lando. They get along so well, plus, they would look so cute together.” Carmen swoons at the image. George pretends to gag.

“Darling…friends… let me explain.” They all sit there eager for the next candidate. “It’s definitely Lewis.” The table dies.

“Mate! You’re insane. He’s old enough to be her dad!” Alex cripples over laughing as he leans his head against his girlfriend's shoulder. She pats his head.

“He’s right, George. It just doesn’t make any sense.”

Whatever, he thinks to himself. It might be him.

“I lost her! Shit, I lost her!” George panics to his girlfriend as she stares up in confusion. What do you mean you lost her! He cringes. “As in; she's gone! And I keep calling Lewis and he’s not picking up and- oh.”

Carmen’s eyes grow wide. “You don’t think…” George laughs wickedly.

“I told you so! Wait until I tell Alex. Alex!” She slaps her hand over his mouth.

“Are you crazy? You can’t just go around claiming this when it might not even be true!” He immediately deflates. You’re right, you’re right-

“Either way, Lando’s missing too.” She giggles as he stares with a deadpan expression.

“Shit!” Charles hisses in pain as he bangs his head against the wall. You let out a sweet laugh.

“Be careful. Also, be quiet!”

You were supposed to be meeting with Toto to go grab dinner with the team and Charles had a last minute defrief to get to, but there was something far more important.

You were both horny.

“Mhmm,” he mumbles as he slips you onto the counter that sits in the privacy of his motorhome. Scrunching your mini dress around your thighs he gets down on his knees as he drags your panties down with his teeth, a teasing look painting his eyes. You bite down on your erupting moan.

“As much as I love this, I need you to be fast.” He chuckles as he stands up to his full height, slipping his suit down as his cock springs out, looking painfully hard. You lick your lips. His strong hands grab your hips to scoot you closer towards him. You giggle as he pecks your lips one final time before slipping inside of you.

Normally, you moan as loud as you please, but you know you can’t right now. So, you bite the inside of your cheek as he begins thrusting in the most delicious way. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as you softly pant.

“That’s a good girl,” he murmurs. He knows how much you love to be vocal and seeing you trying not to be in order to not get caught has him downright impressed. His hips pick up the pace as you silently whine. His cock brushes against your g-spot and that has you feeling as if you’re going to burst. Slow down, Charles, you moan. He cocks his head to the side. “Sois une bonne fille et prends-le.”

Nodding frantically your hand squeezes against his forearm for support.

“Charles are you almost done changing?” Carlos taps his fingers against the door as he waits for his teammate. Trepidation fills you at the thought of Carlos walking in on you. You had both been keeping this a secret and this was definitely not the way you wanted someone to find out about your relationship.

“Charles, s-stop,” you whisper, but this only seems to make Charles snap his hips faster. You want to scream when you feel his cock all the way deep inside your stomach. He suppresses a loud groan.

“Just a minute! Go on without me.” You hear a low, Just don’t take too long. Footsteps grow further as the Spaniard struts away. You sigh but that’s quickly replaced when your boyfriend tosses your left leg over his tan shoulder.

“Oh my God.” Eyes are looking straight at Charles as he admires the way his cock disappears inside of you. The thought makes you blush. He softly kisses your ankle as you moan louder, you feel your tummy grow tighter. “Charles, oh God, I’m gonna cum-”

He covers your mouth, muffled cries vibrating against his hand as he feels you clench around him. The warmness that splatters around his cock makes him bite your ankle as he finishes inside of you. You squirm in pain.

Panting, he lets go of your leg and kisses your temple. “Sorry. Did I hurt you?” You shake your head.

“I’m okay.” Seeing your fucked out state has him glowing with pride that your his and that only he gets to see you like this. He gives you one last kiss as he pulls out of you. You choke at the slight sensitivity. Sorry, he mumbles as he cleans you up.

You both go your separate ways as it dawns on you that you feel so…complete. It’s a weird feeling to have, but as soon as you remind yourself that this is Charles - your Charles - you don’t feel so lost anymore. Grinning, you walk towards your dad.

“You took forever,” he scolds you before letting out a soft smile, kissing the top of your head. He takes a whiff. “Did you run here?”

“Um, why do you ask?”

He stares at you like a hawk before rubbing his eyes. “No reason. You’re just sweating a bit, that's all. Anyways, we should get going.”

That same day you quickly disappear to a nearby shop to buy a cheap perfume.

“Mmm. Flowers.” Lewis sniffs as he walks past you.

“Are you serious?” Lily and Alex grew suspicious when they saw Carmen and George huddling up together like two detectives, so eventually, they went to investigate themselves. “Have you tried calling her?”

“Goodness! How did I not think about that?” Lily and Carmen shoot a dry look at the Brit before he shrinks down onto his seat.

“Stop fighting and let’s just think,” Alex interrupts.

Lily’s eyes roam the club as she see’s Checo and Lance talking. Daniel is with Fernando, but wait-

Excited, she turns back to the group. “Max! It’s Max!” She jumps up and down as Alex stares at her in love.

“Sweet, sweet, Lilyicious, you’re wrong. C’mon we’ve talked about this.” She stomps her foot.

“Nu-uh. Look around with your big head.” She points around the club. “Max is missing. It makes sense.”

“Okay, well Carlos is missing too, how do you explain that?” The couple huff in defeat as they plop down next to George.

“Well this isn’t working. All our best bets are missing and so is she!” Carmen chugs down an entire glass of vodka as the three of them stare up at her scared. “We’re just going to have to look for her ourselves.”

Wanna come over to my room? Fifth floor, #254.

Butterflies fill you to the brim. On my way.

It’s a personal record, really, the way you dash to his room. Part of you thinks about waiting a couple of minutes before knocking, but you know can’t stay away for long. Closed fist almost reaches the wood as the door swings open. Charles stands there with a pair of workout shorts and white socks. Maroon bruises cover his chest from a few nights ago.

Walking towards him you brush your fingers against his chest. “I like where this is going,” you joke as he smiles, kicking the door shut.

The way he kisses you is different. The type of kiss where someone is really trying to memorize the person. It’s still amazing, but why does it feel any different from the rest? You dig your lips deeper as if this would help you figure it out. His hands move to play with your hair as he pulls away. His fingers feel nice. “Let’s sit.”

Once you settle onto his comfy bed you stare at him in awe. How is it that he ever paid you any attention? He could have anyone, but he chose you? That must count for something. “I was thinking maybe now's a good time to let everyone know we’re together.”

He clenches his jaw. “I don’t know…”

You tuck your legs under your butt as you lean a bit forward. “Okay, maybe you’re right. Let’s start off slow. Maybe just our friends?” Taking one look at him makes you feel like an anthill. “Or what do you think?”

Taking in a shallow breath he doesn’t look at you when he says, “I want to break up.” You stop breathing.

He doesn’t say I think we should break up or there’s something wrong. No, he just jumps straight to the point. No explanation.

But you need one.

“I’m sorry, what did you say?” This time he looks at you and his eyes don’t hold the same shine they normally do. The kind you love on him. Now they’re dark and empty. Did I do that?

“It’s just that…” He trails off when he notices you looking at him as if he’s really about to try to save your relationship. “...I need to focus on the Championship.”

You bite your lip as you try reaching out for his hands, but when he slightly pulls away before you even can, it makes you shrink. Settling your hand on your lap you let out a shaky breath before pretending to smile. “Of course. I get that. I can give you some space.”

He shakes his head, eyes looking down to his feet. “No. I just can’t be dating you right now.” When you were 7 and your dad accidentally stepped over your favorite tea cup you had claimed that was the worst pain you have ever felt.

Nothing would beat Charles’ words.

“Me? You can’t be dating me right now, okay.” You start putting your shoes back on and he stares at you with an open mouth.

Stay. I never meant any of this.

But it was too late.

Entering the elevator you’re sobbing, feeling like a nobody. What did you do wrong? Everything was going great. The doors slid open as the last person you wanted to see, apart from Charles, walked in.

“Honey, are you okay?” Toto frantically searches for any cuts or anything that might be causing you pain. Surface level, you want to cry out. You’re looking surface level, but you won’t find anything.

Tying your arms around his waist he immediately hugs you back, trying to understand.

“Daddy, I want to go home.”

“That’s it. I’m calling him.” The Brit pulls out his phone before his friend yanks it away.

“Do you want to lose your job?” Quickly, he shakes his head. Alex tsks. “But we’ve looked everywhere! God, I’m gonna get fired regardless…”

“Bathroooooom. I need to go to the bathroommm.” A body sways, bumping into Lily, sending her flying towards Carmen.

“Watch where you’re going dickhe- oh! Max!” The Dutch man squints his eyes. Do I know you?

“Don’t bother, he’s completely wasted,” Daniel says as he brushes past the group. But George is desperate. Shaking him by the shoulders, he questions Max.

“Have you seen her? Was she with you?”

Max lazily puts a finger over George’ lips. He sighs at the silence. “Much better…no. I haven’t.” They all groan. Letting go, Max zigzags away.

“So, it’s not Max.”

I was homesick. That’s all.

Your mom raises an eyebrow. “But you love traveling, this is new.” You shrug lamely.

“I just really missed you and Jack.” You both look over to your little brother where he silently sits there entertained with his coloring book.

“No you didn’t.” You laugh as Susie stands up to brush your hair. “Honey, what actually happened?”

A weak smile forms itself onto your lips. “Nothing I can’t handle.”

“Should we call the police?”

Lily exhales, rubbing her fingers against her lap nervously. “No. I still think we can find her.”

Alex nods. “Try calling Lewis again.” A disgusted look maps itself on George’ face.

“Gross. No, what if they’re hooking up?” They all groan.

That’s definitely not true at all, Carmen mumbles. “I still say it’s Lando.” Daniel is passing by with a feathered boa. “Danny!” she shrieks. His pearly whites make her smile. “Do you know where Lando is?” Daniel looks up at the ceiling before clicking his fingers.

“I last with him with baby Wolff!” Carmen jumps up in excitement.

“See George I told you! I told you so! Eat and-”

“...Oh no nevermind that wasn’t him. It was…oh. Who was it?” He covers his face with the boa as he thinks about it.

“Hand that over. I’m about to kill myself.” The group turns to face Lando. His face is flushed as he strips the boa from his teammate. Daniel lets out a sore cough as Lando pulls it off him, but the Australian had it wrapped around his neck. Sorry mate, he apologizes.

George rushes over to the younger Brit. “Where were you?”

“I’m okay,” Daniel croaks out as he takes a sip of Lily’s drink.

“I was trying to get a girl's number.” Carmen’s eyes shine. “Word of advice: always make sure they’re not married.” He walks away.

“Dammit. I was almost sure it was going to be him."

“Please, don’t hang up!”

His voice is raspy from the cold as you lie warm in your bed. You can already smell your favorite homemade pancakes your mom always makes for you when you’re feeling down.

“Tough, because as you can see, I just don’t want to talk to you.” You’re about to hang up before he shoots out a quick, Too late. I’m downstairs.

Now, you’re definitely awake. You quickly try to make yourself seem presentable before you rush downstairs. And he was there, sitting with Susie as they both ate your favorite pancakes.

You stand there with your matching PJ’s and one white tube sock. Charles smiles fondly as you blush.

“You forgot your other sock…” Jack tugs at your shirt to gain your attention as he holds his arm out.

“Thank you, baby.” You quickly slip it on.

Susie walks to Jack as she picks him up. “Let’s go, Jackie. This is what we call privacy.” As they both walk down the hallway you can still hear her say, Do you know what privacy is?

“Is she…”

You stare at him blankly. “She’s teaching him how to respect others.” A distant smile. “Holy shit! Wait! Maybe she can teach you.” He winces.

“Look, I just want to talk. Please…” You take a seat across from him as you snatch his plate away and begin to eat.

“I’m only listening because there’s a really delicious plate right in front of me, but you only have 5 minutes, then I want you to leave.” He nods desperately.

“So, um, that night…”

You can’t help the shaky breath that slips past your lips. You hate that he’s getting to you, because it's not what he deserves. You stubbornly would have bought yourself a diamond ring if you had known he would be here.

“...That night. I never meant anything that I said.” The way you want to laugh has him hurrying to get all his words out. “The media, all the stress, was getting crazy and I was a fool to let that get to me.”

“Are you just word vomiting?” He chuckles.

“This is me telling you that I messed up. I screwed up. I fucked up. Whatever you wanna call it, but you don’t know how much I regret that day. How cold I was being to you.”

“You didn’t even try. You never even let me help you,” you whisper as he shakes his head. I know amour, I know.

He grabs your hands. Soft and warm and his. “If you need me to beg, I’ll beg…But please. Give me one more chance.”

Looking deep into his eyes you slowly nod, almost as if you can’t believe this is really happening.

“One more chance.”

“If we’re being quite honest, I never thought it would just be you and me, George.” The two best friends share a high five.

“I can’t even believe it. One of us might actually have it in the bag!” Carmen and Lily scoff at their boyfriends.

“Let me remind you that she’s still missing, dork.” Lily smirks as George snaps out of it.

“You’re right, but we’re getting closer.”

Standing behind Lily, Alex wraps his arms around her shoulders. Despite everything going on around them, Lily still leans in. “Babe,” he starts. “You might actually have a winner in your han- fuck!” His girlfriend jumps up.

“What!”

“Hey, have you guys seen Charles?” Carlos stands there with a puzzled look as Alex curses him out. I bet my money on you! He slaps a 100 dollar bill to George as he does a small celebratory dance with Carmen.

Lily steps aside. “We haven’t, but I think I remember him being with Pierre and Kika. They were talking about - nevermind - that’s not what matters here!”

Carlos hums. “Okayyy then. Just let me know if you do. He’s my ride back.” He walks away.

“Well, well, well,” George clicks his tongue, tall frame leaning against the table. “And then there was one.”

“Are you both sure?”

Things had taken a sharp turn that it even had you questioning your sanity.

“We’re sure.” You gaze at the bright rock that sits on your finger as Charles rubs soft circles on your hand. You mom sighs, but deep down she’s proud of both of you. Overcoming past mistakes together is a huge deal when it comes to marriage. Jack giggles as you flash your ring up. Charles smiles and Susie can tell by his dazzling green eyes.

The Monegasque is in love.

“You can’t tell dad yet, though!” you yelp as your mom stares back with an open mouth.

Why not?, she says at the same time Charles asks, She can’t?

Shaking your head you kiss your fiance's cheek before facing your mom. “It’s just that he wouldn’t understand. At least not yet. Right?”

Charles nods slowly, not fully seeing where this was going. “Whatever you say, mon amour.” Susie winks in approval. Charles feels quite proud of that one.

“I’ll respect your choice,” she says loudly as Jack chirps up. He nods as he keeps quiet. “Right, I’ll respect it, but you have to find a way to let him know soon enough.” Getting up, you hug her tightly.

“Thank you! And yes I have a plan. Top tier. He won’t even see it coming.”

“Now it makes sense why they’re so close! All those late night drives, breakfasts in the morning. No wonder I wasn’t invited for a few of those!”

“Yeah. That’s why,” Alex shoots as he snickers. Carmen softly pats her boyfriend's shoulder as she lets out a playfully grimace. George flips him off.

“You’re just mad because I actually got something right for once!”

“You said it. For once.”

“Oh, you bi-”

“Huh? Huh! Speak louder you gira–”

“Guys!”

Cut short from their heated argument they all turn their attention.

Lewis stands there with a worried expression. His facial lines noticeable as he pinches his face in slight fear. “I’ve been looking everywhere, but I can’t find her. Oh, God, Toto’s gonna kill me…”

George has his fist wrapped around Alex’s collar as he stares with his mouth hung open. Alex laughs as he pushes George off.

“Aha! I knew it! There was just no way!” George groans as he tugs at his floppy hair.

Lewis looks lost. “I don’t have time for this, have you seen her?” They all shake their head as they explain their theory that involved the 7x World Champion. He shudders.

“Gross! She’s like a daughter to me!”

“Thank you!” Carmen, Lily, and Alex shout as George shrugs.

“Okay, so let’s backtrack: She couldn’t have been with Max because poor boy is too drunk to even remember his own name, she wasn’t with Lando since he’s too busy hiding from someone’s husband-”

George and Alex giggle.

“She definitely wasn’t with you,” Lily points to Lewis as if it were impossible for you and him to be in the same sentence. Way to rub it in, he pouts. She shrugs her shoulders as an apology. “And she wasn’t with Carlos because he’s too busy looking for…”

Their eyes grow wide.

“Jesus fucking Christ, where is the bathroom!” Max swings his arms, almost knocking down Yuki. Sorry Uki, he murmurs as he furrows his eyebrows.

“Yuki,” the Japanese driver corrected him.

“Whatever.” Max waves in dismissal. Alex drags the Dutch closer to them.

“There’s one right here.” Max almost starts to cry as he spots the bathroom that stood close by the group.

“Thank youuuu.” He rushes towards the restroom as he tugs harshly. He lets out a whine as he bangs his head against the wall in frustration. “I swear I am going to kick this door down…”

Alex runs over. “Don’t do that, mate. Again.” He kisses his bicep as winks over to his girlfriend. Watch this, he mouths.

But it won’t budge.

“Move over,” George says as he starts rolling up his sleeves. This one’s for you, Carmen. The brunette girl cringes as she covers her eyes. He groans as he pulls with all his strength. “One minute…”

Lewis lets out a sigh as he walks over and pushes his teammate to the side. Wrapping both hands around the handle he leans back and pulls. Both Lily and Carmen drool over his rippling muscles.

“At least try to hide it,” George muffles.

Suddenly the door swings open. Max cheers as he runs in.

“Gotta pee, fuck, get out!”

Two flying bodies are thrown out as they both crash onto a nearby couch.

“Dickhead!” you yell out as you rub your head. Charles groans in pain with you on top of him. The entire room grows silent. Well, as silent as it could get in a club.

“Young lady, when your father finds out!” Lewis exclaims, hands against his hips.

“You’re fucked,” George laughs. “Literally.”

There’s really no way of hiding it. Your short skirt is riding up a tad bit too high as you yank it down. Lipstick stains cover the Monegasque’s face.

“Not a word.”

“And how do you think you guys are going to keep it under wraps?” Susie questions as Charles looks at you with an intrigued face. Yeah. How are we?

Rolling your eyes you take a bite of the now cold pancakes. You gag.

“Easy. We can just pretend to hate each other for a while, make dad believe I’m following his long lasting rule of not crushing on any driver and after a while he’ll trust me and ta-da! We’re getting married, baby!”

You flash a proud smile as Charles high fives you.

Your mom raises a skeptical brow as she leans against her chair. Giggling, you put your hand over hers.

“How hard could it be?”

#charles leclerc #charles leclerc imagines #charles leclerc x reader #f1 #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #charles leclerc drabble #charles leclerc smut #wolff!reader

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cybernaght · 10 months

Text

The fandom echo chamber: fanon, microanalysis and conspiracy brain

As someone who has been in fandom spaces, on and off, for 20 years, I find some fascinating trends popping up in the last decade that I thought to be fandom-specific but clearly aren’t. So, I would like to do a little examination of where those things come from, how they are engaged with, and what it says about the way we consume media. This is a think piece, of sorts, with my brain being the main source. As such, we will spend some time down the memory lane of a fandom-focused millennial.

This is largely brought about by Good Omens. But it’s also not really about Good Omens at all.

Part one. Fanon.

The way we see characters in any story is always skewed by our very selves. This is a neutral statement, and it does not have a value judgement. It’s simply unavoidable. We recognise aspects of them, love aspects of them, and choose aspects of them to highlight based entirely on our own vision of the universe.

Recognition comes into this. There is a reason so many protagonists of romance novels have a “blank slate” problem. Even when they do not, we love characters who are like us or versions of us that we would like to be. And when we say “we”, I also mean, “me”.

(I remember very clearly this realisation hit me after a whole season of Doctor Who with writing which I hated utterly when I questioned why I still clung so incredibly hard to Clara Oswald as my favourite companion. Then I looked at myself in the mirror. Oh. Well. That would do it, wouldn’t it?)

Then, there is projection, and, again, this is a neutral statement. Projection exists, and it is completely normal and, dare I say it, valid way of engaging with — well, anything. Is the character queer? Trans? Neurodivergent? Are they in love? Do they like chocolate? Are they a cat person? Well, yes, if this is what the text says, but if the text does not say anything… You tell me. Please, do tell me. Because, in that moment of projection, they are yours.

And then, there is fandom osmosis, and that is the most fascinating one of them all, the one that is not very easy to note while you are inside the echo chamber. It’s the way we collectively, consciously or not, make decisions on who or what the characters are, what their relationships are, and what happens to them.

(Back when I was writing egregiously long Guardian recaps on this blog I actually asked if Shen Wei’s power being learning actually was stated anywhere in the canon of the show. Because I had no idea. I have read and reread dozen of fanfics where that is the case, and at some point through enough repetition, it became reality.)

We are all kind of making our own reality here, aren’t we?

Back when things were happening in a much less centralised manner - in closed livejournal groups, and forums of all shapes and sizes - I don’t remember there being quite as much universally agreed upon fanon. Frankly, I don’t remember much of universally agreed upon anything. But now, everything is in one place: we have this, and we have AO3, and it’s wonderful, it really is so much easier to navigate, but it’s also one gigantic reality-shifting echo chamber, with blogs, reblogs, trends, and rituals.

Accessibility plays its part, too. If you were, say, in Life on Mars (UK) fandom between seasons, and you wanted to post your speculation fic, you had to have had an account, and then find and gain access to one of the bigger groups (lifein1973 was my poison, but ymmv), and then, if you feel brave you may post it, but also, you may want to do so from your alt account if you wanted to keep yours separate, and then you would have to go through the whole process again. And I’m not saying that fan creations then were somehow inherently better for it than fan creations now (although Life on Mars Hiatus Era is perhaps a bad example - because some of the Speculation Fic there was breathtaking), but there is something to say about the ease of access that made the fandoms go through a big bang of sorts.

(I mean, come on, I can just come here and post this - and I am certain people will read it, and this blog is a pandemic cope baby about Chinese television for goodness sake.)

The canon transformations that happen in the fandom echo chamber truly are fascinating to witness as someone who is more or less a fandom butterfly. I get into something, float around for a bit, then get into something else and move on. I might come back eventually when the need arises, but I don’t sustain a hiatus mind-state. This means that when I float away and return, I find some very intriguing stuff.

Let’s actually look at Good Omens here. Season two aired, and I found it spectacular in its cosy and anguished way; deliberately and intelligently fanfic-y in its plot building; simple but subversive, and so very tender. (I will have to circle back to this eventually, because, truly, I love how deliberately it takes the tropes and shatters them - it’s glorious). And, to me - a person who read the book, watched the first season, hung around AO3 for a few weeks and moved on - absolutely on-point in terms of characterisation.

So imagine my surprise when the fandom disagreed so vehemently that there are actual multi-tiered theories on how characters were not in possession of their senses. Nothing there, in my mind, ever contradicted any of the stated text, as it stood. This remained a strange little mystery until I did what I always do when I flutter close to an ongoing fandom.

I loaded AO3 and sorted the existing fic by popularity. And there it was, all there: the actual earth-shattering mutual devotion of the angel and the demon; willingness to Fall; openness and long heart-aching confession speeches. There was all of the fanon surrounding Aziraphale and Crowley, which, to me, read as out of character, and to one for whom they became the reality over the last four years, read as truth.

Again, only neutral statements here. This is not a bad thing, and neither this is a good thing, this is just something that happens, after a while, especially when there are years for the fandom-born ideas to bounce around and stew. I can’t help but think that so much of what we see as real in spaces such as this one is a chimaera of the actual source and all the collective fan additions which had time and space to grow, change, develop, and inspire, reverberating over and over again, until the echoes fill the entirety of the space.

Eventually, this chimaera becomes a reality.

Part two. Microanalysis

Here are my two suppositions on the matter:

1. Some writers really love breadcrumb storytelling.

Russel T Davies, for instance, on his run of Doctor Who (and, if you are reading it much later - I do mean the original one), loved that technique for his seasonal arcs. What is a Bad Wolf? Who is Harold Saxon? Well, you can watch very very carefully, make a theory, and see it proven right or wrong by the end of the season.

Naturally, mystery box writers are all about breadcrumb storytelling: your Losts and your Westworlds are all about giving you snippets to get your brain firing, almost challenging you to figure things out just ahead of the reveal.

2. We, as humans, love breadcrumbs.

And why wouldn’t we? Breadcrumbs are delicious. They are, however, a seasoning, or a coating. They are not the meal.

Too much metaphor?

Let’s unpack it and start from the beginning.

Pattern recognition colours every aspect of our lives, and it colours the way we view art to a great extent. I think we truly underestimate how much it’s influenced by our lived experiences.

If you are, broadly speaking, living somewhere in Western/North-Western Europe in the 14th century, and you see a painting in which there is a very very large figure surrounded by some smaller figures and holding really tiny figures, you may know absolutely nothing about who those figures are, but you know that the big figure is the Important One, and the small ones are Less Important Ones, and the tiny ones are In Their Care. You know where your reverence would lie, looking at this picture. And, I imagine, as someone living in the 14th century, you may be inspired to a sense of awe looking at this composition, because in the world you live in, this is how art works.

If you, on the other hand, watch a piece of recorded media and see the eyes of two characters meet as the violins swell, you know what you are being told at that moment. You don’t have to have a film degree to feel a sort of way when you see a green-tinged pallet used, when cross-cuts use juxtaposing images, or notice where your focus is pulled in any given shot. This stuff - this recognition of patterns - has been trained into us by the simple fact that we live in this time, on this planet, and we have been doing so long enough to have engaged recorded media for a period of time.

As humans, we notice things. Our brains flare up when they see something they recognise, and then we seek to find other similar details and form a bigger picture. This often happens unconsciously, but sometimes it does not. Sometimes we do it on purpose: finding breadcrumbs in stories is a little bit like solving a mystery. It allows us to stretch that brain muscle that puts two and two together. It makes us feel clever.

So yes, we love breadcrumbs, and, frankly, quite a lot of storytelling takes advantage of this. It’s very useful for foreshadowing, creating thematic coherence, or introducing narrative parallels and complexity. It’s useful for nudging the viewer into one or the other emotional direction, or to cue them into what will happen in the next moment, or what exactly is the one important detail they should pay attention to.

Because this is something media does intentionally, and something we pick up both consciously and not, it is very hard to know when to stop. We don't really ever know when all of the breadcrumbs have been collected. It becomes very easy to get carried away. There is a very specific kind of pleasure in digging into content frame by frame, soundbite by soundbite, chasing that pleasure of finding.

But it is almost never breadcrumbs all the way down. They are techniques to help us focus on the main event: the story. I truly believe those who make media want it to reach the widest possible audience, and that includes all of us who like to watch every single thing ever created with our Media Analysis Goggles on and those who are just here to enjoy the twists and turns of the story at the pace offered to them. And I think, sometimes in our chase to collect and understand every little clue we forget that media is not made to just cater for us.

One can call it missing a forest for the trees. But I would hate to mix my metaphors, so let’s call it missing a schnitzel for the breadcrumbs.

Part three. The Conspiracy Brain.

If you are there with me, in the midst of the excited frenzy, chasing after all those delicious breadcrumbs, then patterns can grow, merge together, and become all-encompassing theories. Let’s call them conspiracy theories, even though this is not what they truly are.

So, why do we believe in conspiracy theories?

One, Because We Have Been Lied To.

All conspiracies start with distrust.

If you are in fandom spaces - especially if you are in fandom spaces which revolve around a queer fictional couple - especially-especially if you have been in such spaces for a period of time, you have most certainly been lied to at one point or another.

We don’t even have to talk about Sherlock - and let’s not do that - but do you remember Merlin? Because I remember Merlin. Specifically, I remember the publicity surrounding the first season, with its weaponised usage of “bromance” and assertions that this whole thing is a love story of sorts, and then the daunting realisation that this was all a stunt, deliberately orchestrated to gather viewership.

And, because we were lied to in such a deliberate manner for such an extensive period of time, I genuinely believe that it forever altered our pattern recognition habits, because what was this if not encouragement to read into things? Now we are trained to read between the lines or see little cries for help where they might not be. Because we were told, over and over again, that we should.

(Yes, I think we are all existing in these spaces coloured by the trauma of queer-bating. I am, however, looking forward to a world where I can unlearn all of that.)

Two, Cognitive Dissonance.

The chain reaction works a bit like this: the world is wrong - it can’t possibly be wrong by coincidence - this must be on purpose - someone is responsible for it.

Being Lied To is a preamble, but cognitive dissonance is where it all originates. In so many cross-fandom theories I have noticed a four-step process:

A) this is not good

B) this author could not have made a mistake

C) this must be done on purpose

D) here is why

(Funny thing is, I have been on the receiving end of the small conspiracy spiral, and it is a very interesting experience. Not relevant to this conversation is the fact that a lot of my job revolves around storytelling. What is relevant is that my hobbies also revolve around storytelling. And one of them is DnD. Now, imagine my genuine shock when one of the players I am currently writing a campaign for noticed a small detail that did not make a logical sense within the complexity of the world, and latched on to it as something clearly indicating some kind of a secret subplot. Their thinking process also went a bit like this: this detail is not a good piece of writing — this DM knows how to tell stories well — this is obviously there on purpose. It was not there on purpose. I created a clumsy shorthand. I erred, in that pesky manner humans tend to. And, seeing this entire thought process recited to me directly in the moment, I felt somewhere between flattered and mortified.)

This whole line of thinking, I think, exists on a knife’s edge between veneration and brutal criticism, relentlessly dissecting everything “wrong”, with a reverent “but this is deliberate” attached to it like a vice, because it is preferable to a simple conclusion that the author let you down, in one way or another.

Three, Intentionality

I believe that there is no right or wrong way of engaging with stories, regardless of their medium, and assuming no one gets hurt in the process. While in a strictly academic way, there is a “correct” way of reading (and reading into) media, we here are largely not academics but consumers; consumption is subjective.

However, this all changes when intentionality is ascribed.

The one I find particularly fascinating is the intentionality of “making it bad on purpose” because, as open-minded as I intend to always be, this just does not happen.

It certainly does not happen in long-form media. Even in the bread-crumb mystery box-type long-form media.

When television programs underdeliver, they also underperform, and then they get cancelled.

If all the elements of Westworld Season 4 that did not sit together in a completely satisfactory way were written deliberately as some sort of deconstruction for the final season to explore, then it failed because that final season will now never come.

(There will likely never be a Secret Fourth Episode.)

And look, I am not here to refute your theories. Creativity is fun, and theorising is fantastic.

But, perhaps, when the line of thought ventures into the “bad on purpose” territory, it could be recognised for what it is: disappointment and optimism, attempting to coexist in a single space. And I relate to that, I do, and I am sorry that there is even a need for this line of thinking. It’s always so incredibly disappointing that a creator you believed to be devoid of flaws makes something that does not hit in the way you hoped it would. It’s pretty heartbreaking.

Unfortunately, people make mistakes. We are all fallible that way.

Four, Wildfire.

Then, when the crumbs are found, a theory is crafted, and intentionality is ascribed, all that needs to happen is for it to catch on. And hey, what better place for it than this massive hollow funnel that we exist in, where thoughts, ideas and interpretations reverberate so much they become inextricable from the source material in collective consciousness.

Conspiracy theories create alternate realities, very much like we all do here.

So where are we now?

I am not here to tell you what is right and what is wrong; what is true, and what is not. We are all entitled to engage with anything we wish, in whichever way we wish to do it. This is not it, at all.

All I am saying is… listen.

Do you hear that echo?

I do.

#fandom thoughts #fanon #good omens #good omens 2 #bbc sherlock #merlin bbc #think piece #it's been years and I still have no idea how to tag #conspiracy theories #fandom content #all fandoms

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marvellous1917 · 9 months

Text

Icarus Falling Far.

(Part 3)

Pairing: mob!bucky x tattoo artist!female!reader

Summary: it’s the day after giving the dangerous mobster his first tattoo, and he hasn’t contacted you yet. What a dick.

Warnings: cursing, crime, mentions of guns, stalking/harassment (brief), think that’s it.

Word count: 3.6k ish

A/N: i had no plan to make this story into a mini-series, so if this seems a little unplanned… it is. Anyway, hope you like it my loves 😘

(This is not beta’s so any mistakes are my own)

Part 2 ⬇️:

———————

Bold is readers thoughts

Italics is Bucky's thoughts

This starts in Bucky’s POV.

———————

His home office was always the place he went to feel at peace. Ironic really, considering the dealings done within the room. The walls had seen him order his men to assassinate his rivals, to eliminate anybody that got in their way. The desk had felt the tip of the pen write extortionate contracts, sent silently to some of the cities most powerful people, the non-explicit threat sent with photos of their family’s, to reminds them what they were risking if they refused to comply. The window that felt the full strength of his prosthetic too many times to count. The hole in the floor after one of his employees managed to literally shoot himself in the foot. {guess who}

But his peace was teetering on a cliffs edge. His hands were woven into his hair, pulling to try and alleviate the headache forming. Elbows resting on his desk as his eyes stayed staring at one specific groove in the wood.

A knock at the door broke his trance and he sighed. It was a rule in the Compound that if the boss was in his office and the door was closed, you do not interrupt or enter unless there was an emergency. Only one man was brave enough to completely disregard Bucky’s rule, which had led to some… interesting situations when Bucky had girls in there with him.

“Come in,” he called, knowing the longer he waited to respond, the louder and more incessant the knocking would become.

The door opened and there was Bucky’s very own personal dumbass: Steve Rogers. The man had been a part of Bucky’s life since as long as he could remember, if-fact some of his earliest memories were with Steve; young boys playing cops and robbers together, attempting to protect Steve when he picked a fight he had no business being in- which had led to Bucky getting his ass beat as well, and scheming together about how to make sure that Simon Justin never played baseball again after pulling his sisters hair on the playground.

“Fuck me Buck, I’m not sure if today could have been anymore fucked,” Steve stated as he collapsed on to the couch, flinging his legs over one arm and resting his head in the other.

Today was a stressful fucking day.

It was the day that Bucky was making all necessary moves. Why all the problems had to pop up now, he wasn’t sure. And the kicker to this awful day? He had no time to talk to you, the girl he could not get out of his head, no matter how hard he tried. You’d managed to flood his mind, memories of the kiss you shared playing over and over again.

“Did you close the door?” Bucky asked, not moving an inch.

“Yeah.”

“Good because I do not need anyone else talking to me right now,” Bucky said, his voice low and quiet, an air of danger ever-present in his tone.

“C’mon Buck, y’know you love them,” Steve responds with a dopey little smirk on his face, and he tilts his head to make eye contact with the man he calls his brother.

I hate that fuckin smile.

He softly hums his agreement and returns to inspecting the groove on his desk.

“We just gotta talk it out, figure out what the fuck is going on, then plan our next moves accordingly,” Steve says, swinging his legs back to the floor, hands clasped together, his arms leaning on his knees.

“Yeah thanks man, I didn’t think about figuring everything out, maybe I’ll give that a go now” Bucky retorts with weak sarcasm, mind too busy, replaying the events of the day.

“I can leave you alone to get lost in your head, or we can figure this shit out together. It’s your call jerk.” Steve says, tilting his head down to catch Bucky’s eye.

“Alright.”

“Stop pulling your hair jackass.” He adds.

I hate it when you do that.

Bucky drops his hands to the desk and says, “Ok let’s start this debrief with Walker.”

“Nat’s got his ass tied up in the basement for ya, he’s ready when you are.”

“Anybody looking for him?”

“One frustratingly loyal friend, but he has no idea that Johnny-boy is with us. The rest of his little fan club have no idea he’s even missing.”

“Ok, one problem down. Rumlow?” It’s the question he doesn’t want the answer to. He’d much rather spend his time thinking about you. His history with Brock Rumlow was bloody and painful, for both of them. There was only one person from his past that Bucky hadn’t dealt with, and here he was, coming back to ruin the name Bucky had made for himself.

Rumlow knew things about Bucky’s past that made him a a high security threat, but after he failed to blow himself up in an attempt to kill Bucky, he had disappeared. Bucky thought it was finally over, but the asshole popped back up about a year ago, with more power than before, making himself seemingly untouchable by Bucky’s hand.

“Currently moving like he has been, not causing too much trouble for us, though his crew are getting closer and closer to our dealings at the port.” Steve said, a slight look of digits on his face.

“Put extra hands down there for the next couple weeks, see if we can’t scare them off a little.”

“Yes boss. I’ll let them know after this.”

“The commissioner’s dealt with?” Buck asks, remembering the deviation the man had decided to make.

“Yep, send him that gift basket. He called Sam this morning and agreed to our terms.”

“Good. How’s Barton?” He asks, moving into what they class as ‘personal business’.

“Pissed, man. He wants blood for what happened, we all do.” Steve answers, the memory of seeing Clint covered in blood and bruised made his blood simmer.

“We sure it wasn’t Rumlows’ lot, or fuck even Walker?

“Walkers’ fanclub do not have the brain cells, the power, or the information to organise an attack like that, and Parker tracked Rumlow and his men, all are accounted for and have alibis. This is someone new.”

Oh for fuck’s sake. Isn’t two power hungry assholes enough.

“We haven’t found anything? No security cameras, no cell tower pings?” Bucky asks, leaning back in his chair, resting his head on the back.

“Actually, I sent Scott there this morning to check out if there was anything left there and he found something.” Steve responds, some apprehension creeping into his voice.

That got Bucky’s attention. His head snapped back up and locked eyes with Steve who now stood in-front of his desk, pacing back and forth slightly.

“Care to share with the class Rogers?” His voice was hard now, his extreme dislike of not knowing all the information shining through.

Steve exhales sharply, biting his tongue to not retort and piss Bucky off more.

“He found a package tucked behind a dumpster addressed to ‘Bucky Barnes’ that had a memory stick-“

“Like a USB?” Bucky interrupted.

“- Yeah a USB-“ he gets cut off again.

“Then just say USB, calling it a ‘memory stick’ makes you sound 100 years old.”

“-oh dear god, you gonna let me finish?” Steve responds.

Bucky waved his hand at him, a sign for him to continue.

“Scott found a package addressed to you with a USB inside, we gave it to Stark ‘cos Parker was busy tracking down Rumlows crew, and he checked it out and told us it was completely normal, no virus or anything bad in it.”

“Was there anything on it?” Bucky asks, his brow furrowed.

“It..uh..has two pictures on it.” Steve said lowly.

“…of?”

“It’s probably better if I just show you.” Steve said, his tone of voice made Bucky a little nervous.

Steve took out his phone, tapped a couple of time before turning it around to give to Bucky. As soon as the latter had ahold of the phone, Steve took a full step back, which caused Bucky to raise his eyebrows in question.

“Just look.” He says in response to Bucky’s unasked question.

He looked down at the screen and almost immediately removed his left hand as to not break the phone.

Fuck. Shit.

The first picture was of the night he met you. It was taken through the window for you apartment, and clearly showed both you and Bucky, stood side by side, looking through your flash book.

“What the fuck is this?” He pushes out through gritted teeth.

“I assuming that’s the tattoo artist you told me about, the one you got a thing for?” Steve says.

The one I’m obsessed with.

When Bucky gives him a sharp nod, Steve just drops his head, suddenly fascinated with his shoes.

“Shit.” He says under his breath.

“What?” Bucky’s voice was louder now.

“Look at the next picture.” Steve says while avoiding eye contact.

Bucky looks down, his finger swiping to the next picture before he can think about it.

No. No no fuck. Not her.

The next photo was taken from inside the apartment. Inside your bedroom. It’s of you. Asleep. Completely unaware of the danger stood at the foot of your bed.

Bucky couldn’t look away, he was frozen staring at the picture. Your shorts and oversized tee had both ridden up slightly, showing how truly vulnerable you are. The clock on your table showed the time as 3:54 and showed the date.

“…this was taken this morning.”

“..yeah.”

fuck.

———————

Fuck Bucky Barnes.

The bastard hadn’t contacted you since the shop.

Bitch ass told me to keep my phone on so I wouldn’t miss his message, kept me glued to my phone like a weirdo waiting for him to call… and he didn’t. Dick.

Despite the annoyance at the very very attractive mobster, you couldn’t help wonder how he was, what he was doing, if he was thinking about you too.

You’re overthinking about Bucky was interrupted by a knock at your door.

“One sec!” You shout to whoever’s there, getting up and walking to the door. The second you undo the lock, the door is being pushed into your face with a chorus of greetings.

“Come in I guess,” you say to the three who just walked in.

“Well thanks darlin, you got food?” Billy responds, already making his way to the fridge.

“Don’t fucking eat my pizza Bill, I swear I’ll kill you,” you answer, giving both Frank and Curtis a hug, letting the door close behind them.

He laughs off your threat as the others take a seat on your couch.

“Not that I don’t love you guys, but why the fuck are you here?” You ask, moving back to the arm chair in the corner and taking a seat, your phone pinging in the back ground.

“What, we can’t pop in on you whenever we want?” Frank says, leaning back in the arm of the couch, moving to put his feet in the coffee table.

“Frankie if you put your feet on my table, I’m gonna beat you with a spoon.” You call at him.

He freezes and slowly lowers his feet back to the floor.

“We just wanted to come see how you were…Frank told us about Barnes.” Curtis says, cutting into the conversation and completely dampening the mood.

God-fucking-dammit Frank.

Oh fuck do I tell them that he’s not an issue and I actually quite like him.

“Yeah are you ok sweetheart?” Billy asks and he collapses on the couch in the middle of the other boys.

“I’m fine guys, I swear, like I told Frank he’s actually not bad,” you answer, shifting uncomfortable lay in your seat due to the indecision of how much to tell them, “He was nice, polite and kind of…charming, I guess-”

“Is that why you kissed him?” Frank interrupts.

Shit, how does he know?

“-what?”

“You kissed him. Or rather he kissed you but you seemed to enjoy it.” Billy says with an annoying smirk on his face.

“How do you know that?” You ask, shock still written all over your face.

“..the security cameras, kid. You forget about those?”

Ahh fuck.

“Ahh fuck,” you say out loud.

“What the hell are you doing making out with a mobster, Y/N?” Curtis responds, looking at you with those eyes of his that show he’s not judging, just trying to understand.

“I..uh..I wasn’t-really-thinking.” You put you hands on your head, even though Curtis wasn’t judging you, the other two definitely were.

“Obviously you weren’t, he’s a goddam mobster Y/N-” Billy starts, anger in his voice, but you cut him off.

“I know that Bill, ok, I do,” you say, shifting to place your feet on the floor, “but he’s not the animal you think he is, he’s kind and considerate and he makes me feel…” happy. you cut off before the last word, wanting to keep that realisation to yourself for a little longer.

“Plus you bastards can’t be judging me for meeting the guy twice, only yourselves and the devil knows what fucked shit you three have been up to.” You almost shout.

“The fuck does that mean?” Frank answers.

“C’mon Frank I’m not stupid, you three have some shady shit in your pasts. I mean you were goddam military for fucks sake, and don’t think I don’t see the fake payments on the books at the shop-“

“Stop Y/N.” Billy cuts you off. “Stop it now.” He leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees, eyes never leaving yours.

You were about to respond to his demand, when a knock sounded at the door.

“Told you to keep you phone on.” A dark voice calls through the door.

Oh shit. No no no not now please not now.

“Who the fuck is that?” Frank asks, suddenly sitting up straight, eyes pinned on the door. Both Billy and Curtis stand, facing the door as if waiting for it to bust off it’s hinges.

“Please all of you, shut the fuck up and don’t do anything dumb,” you answer, moving towards the door.

“Is that him?” Curtis asks.

“Didn’t I just say shut the fuck up,” you retort a little snappier, opening the door slightly.

He cut his hair, it’s looks good on him.

Bucky lowers his arm from his thwarted attempt at a second knock and says, “Is your phone broken or are you ignoring me?” The smirk on his face made your heart beat a little faster.

“Neither, I just missed your text because I have some friends over right now,” you say.

“Is that why you’re not opening the door properly? I can barley see you,” he says with a grin.

“…kinda? Ok wait..” you exit your apartment, pulling the door closed fully behind you, “long story short, they know about the k.. uh about what happened at the shop, and they know who you are and they are not happy about it.”

His eyes darken and his smirk grows wider at the almost mention of the kiss. He shifts until he’s leaning his shoulder on the wall by your door.

“Oh yeah? Doesn’t really matter what they think though, does it doll? Both you and I know how much you enjoyed it.” He says, mouth forming a cheeky grin.

Oh my god.

“Me? You’re the one who started it Bucky, seemed you enjoyed it more,” you respond, having no idea where the confidence came from.

He hums at your statement and says “Well I can admit that I did enjoy our kiss sweetheart, but I may need a little reminder of how it went, it’s been a long day you see.”

“Bucky-” you’re cut of by him stepping closer until your chests are barley touching, the new position making you tilt your head back to see him better.

“What darlin? You ok with this?” He asks slowly, tilting his head to the side slightly, looking into your eyes for any sign of discomfort.

Why does he have to be so sweet.

You nod in answer to his question and he smiles. Not the terrifying grin or the cheeky smirk, but a genuine smile - one that makes him even more beautiful. Bucky raises his right arm, dragging his thumb over your lips and cupping your cheek while you stare up at him, his other hand sneaks around your back, pulling you flush to him.

“You have no idea what to do to me, do ya?” He mumbles, probably not intending for you to respond as he’s closing the gap between you. The kiss is harsh and a little messy, shocking you slightly with his apparent desperation, hands holding you tightly. He takes advantage of your shock, tracing your lips with his tongue and pushing past to deepen the kiss.

His hand drops from you face to your waist, gripping so tightly, you’re sure he’ll have left a bruise. That thought got you’re heart pumping faster, the idea that an imprint of his hands, his fingers would be left on your skin. It felt right. Bucky pushes you until your back hits the wall, hips fitting against yours almost perfectly, one leg sneaking between yours as you let a light whimper escape.

You break the kiss to get some air, leaning your forehead against his, both of you catching your breath.

“Bucky, I mis-”, you didn’t get to finish the sentence before your door opens and you’re suddenly faced with three pissed off ex-marines.

-(Bucky’s P.O.V)

Bucky immediately steps back, releasing you, and straightens his posture. He looks at the men, quietly analysing them. He can tell that they either are or were military, and definitely care immensely about you, probably to the point of beating the crap out of anyone that hurt you.

The one in the middle is a frightening creature , he thinks, but the wedding band means he has something to loose, he should be less quick to anger, in theory.

The one on the right with the short buzz cut and the tense muscles reminds him of Clint, he’s ready to fight at the drop of a hat, and by the look on his face, I’m gonna be his next target.

The man on the left intrigued Bucky the most. His face is blank, showing nothing. He’s favouring one of his legs, and the other shows a bulky piece of metal at the bottom. Wonder if that’s an old military injury.

“Guys, what are you doing?” You ask, apprehension in your voice. Bucky wonders if you’re scared for them or for him.

“Oh we are gonna head out, let you have some time to really think about what we talked about.” The man in the middle says, putting emphasis on the word really.

“Frank please-”

“No it’s ok sweetheart,” Bucky bristles at the pet name the Clint wannabe says, “we’ll see you later.”

“Billy-”

“Shit, I left my phone on your table, could you get it for me?” The other says to you, cutting off your words, smiling at you to calm the stressed look on your face.

“Of course Cutis, one sec,” you respond, Turing to Bucky at the end of your sentence with a look at says please don’t make this worse.

You pass by the men and let the door fall closed behind you.

The silence is tense as the men all stare at each-other.

“So…how’s your man doing? Y’know the one that got jumped,” Billy says, smirking at Bucky.

“How do you know that?” Bucky asks as his muscles tense.

“…Y/N told us, obviously,” Billy says.

The pause was intentional, she didn’t tell them that.

“He’s fine, thanks.” Bucky responds shortly, all to aware of the lie he was just told.

The door opens just before Billy can respond, all four men going silent again.

“Here it is Curtis, guess I’ll see you guys later then,” you say, before hugging each man.

The three shoulder past Bucky as if he was just a man on the street, no care in the world that he could have them killed for that disrespect. But he lets this one slide, for her, as they’re her friends.

“Did you tell them about Clint?” He knows it was a lie but he needs to make sure his cynical brain isn’t marking it up.

“No? Why?” You answer, unaware of the turmoil occurring in Bucky’s head.

Then how the fuck do they know.

“Give me one minute doll, I forgot something at the car,” he says, “go on inside I’ll be back soon.”

“Uh.. okay.” You answer, walking back into the apartment.

He watches the door and as soon as it closes he is moving back down the stairs, hoping to catch and ask the men how they knew about Clint. Bucky normally has an reasonable explanation for everything, but this time he was stumped. He catches them outside the front door to the building, the three of them stood leaning against their car, watching the door, waiting for him to come out.

“How do you know?” He repeats his question from before, voice lower and more dangerous now.

“Y’know…that bastard has a solid right hook.” Billy says. The sentence sends red hot anger through Bucky’s blood.

It was them. But that means…

“Did you get our package?” The big one in the middle asks, Frank, she called him.

Fuck. The anger that has been burning in his veins since the second he saw those photos of you pours out of him and he immediately pulls a gun on Frank.

“Hey now that’s not smart, is it?” Curtis asks in a placating tone.

“Don’t forget about our girl up there. What’s she gonna think if you shoot me for no reason?” Frank says, unflinching staring down the barrel of Bucky’s gun.

Fuck. Fuck. These bastard are the ones threatening everything, they jumped Clint and are using you to get to him. They’re your friends and you? You have absolutely no idea.

————

Yo this took so long to do!! Hope you like my lil twisty turn at the end there 😈.

Lemme know what u think 😘

Tagged :

@sleepyghostygirl @starlightaurorab @where-the-river-bends @imagines-of-the-fandom @bigenargy @uraverageatiny @squeezyvalkyrie @mylifeispainandiloveit @mrvlxgrl @bopbeepboopbopbeep @yvessaintmuerte @thecubanator2 @flubblubbb @teambarnes72 @ria132love @pingpongfingfong @rivthejellyfish @mybakubaby @blue-chup @goatsmcgee @facinated-lemon @daddylorianisastateofmind @buckybarnesb-tch @yeahimcrying @shifting2places @1-800-bxrnes @fandomsfallnomore @bushtail @ghostofwinter @missdarlingsb @amiets2 @leabunny @justmarlen3 @bofadeezs @jehduxi @grey107th @king-of-spades-aroace @sebismyhubby @princezzjasmine @sebastianswhore @cluckityduck @shuriri4life @calwitch @goodkittyspost @iateall-yourcookies @miss-i-ship-it @mrs-bucky-barnes-73 @anawhitethorn @radiator-hands @tripletstephaniescp

#bucky imagine #bucky barnes x reader #mob!bucky #mob!bucky fic #mob!bucky x reader #mob!bucky x tattoo artist!reader #ace chats #tattoo artist!reader #mob!bucky barnes x reader

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where-dreams-dwell · 4 months

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*spoilers for One Day*

For people saying ‘it’s tragic, Dex and Em only got 3 years together’ no. They got 15 years together.

Glossing over the span of their life together to sum it up as ‘only 3 years together’ misses all the love and time they had together that wasn’t solely romantic.

Why is their relationship only ‘important’ or ‘counts’ when it’s a romantic one? Maybe there was always romantic love buried in there or growing steadily but there was a whole lot of platonic love there too.

For 15 years they were the most important person in the world to one another, they described each other as their ‘best friend’ and the person they reached out to at every high and low moment. And for the last 3 of those years they were also a couple.

There are loads of examples of Dex reaching out to Em when he’s at his lowest: the last birthday with his mum, then he’s reeling from his divorce, when he’s scared people will hate him on TV. And you *could* read that as pathetic and Em being his emotional crutch, with Dex latching into her. But you could *also* see that as when you’re struggling and low, you just want your best friend. Because they *get* you. And part of being a best friend is being there in those low moments.

And Em has done the same with Dex, just in different ways. That first year out of uni Em had no idea what she was doing; in a job she couldn’t wait to leave, a relationship that didn’t make her happy, not sure where she was going in life or what she was doing. Em writes to Dex often, and doesn’t need him to reply to her, just to read her letters and be *her* emotional crutch and person to vent to.

Even at that breakup-dinner, Em has things she ‘needs to talk about’ and she’s reached out to Dex to do it. We don’t see her discussing it with Tilly, we see her trying to talk about it with Dex. She’s at arguably her lowest moment (hates her job, hates her partner, hates her home) and she wants her best friend to listen to her. Just like he did when she was 24 and thinking about giving up and leaving London, and Dex convinced her to stay and keep going.

So they are emotional crutches *to one another*. That’s also part of being someone’s best friend.

And for all the low moments Dex also wanted to share his best moments with her too: when he’s excited about the TV pilot he calls Em to say ‘the only person I want to share this with is you’, and begs Em to find a way to be there. Yes this is also him dismissing and ignoring her achievements, yes this is self absorbed and rude and at the height of his egomania, but in that moment of triumph he only wants his best friend there with him.

When they see one another again at Tilly’s wedding Em is brave and self assured when she reveals she’s ‘thought of you every day, missed you every day’, and that even though they are friends again now the fact that Dex will have a wife and child ‘feels a bit like loosing you all over again. Because people with families have different priorities…’ That’s how close they were before.

The sentiment that ‘we grew up together’ is really true, for the both of them. They were very different people throughout their lives, and if they had tried to be a romantic couple earlier there is no guarantee that version of them would have lasted the course.

Would Emma have stayed with a peak-of-his-tv-fame Dex, partying and living life ‘to the full’? Or would they have explosively ended and decided they were too different for one another for it to ever work?

Would Dex have even tried for a career in TV or a full year of travelling if he’d become a couple with Emma after Uni? Or would he have done something else but grown resentful of what-could-have-been?

If they had sorted out their issues and apologised after their fight and Em had left Ian, would Em have found the strength to turn rock bottom into a spring board and finally write her book? Would she have even hit that bottom at all? Or would the hook have remained a pipe dream while she continued as a teacher, happy with Dex but professionally unfulfilled?

We will never know what could have been, and that doesn’t necessarily make those alternatives the ‘better’ option that they ‘missed out on’.

Maybe they would only ever have had 3 years together as a couple and getting it in their mid 30’s the way they did was their most mature and peaceful version.

So yes at times their relationship feels like it’s moving toward the inevitable conclusion of a romantic partnership. But the time before they get there wasn’t wasted or unimportant or unnecessary. And they were always together.

#one day netflix #one day #emma morley #dexter mayhew #friendship #platonic love #romantic love #star crossed lovers #I just get frustrated when people boil ‘they always loved one another’ down to ‘oh so it was romantic from the start and never changed’#like bitch the power of friendship??#the bonds of brother/sisterhood and all that jazz #to say nothing of platonic soulmates #or love that changes and grows #spoilers

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youraverageaemondsimp · 10 months

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If I can't have you, no one can. // Yandere!Aemond Targaryen x Fem!Reader [ONE SHOT]

Summary: Aemond cannot bear to watch you be married to someone else.

WARNINGS: nsfw content, mdni: dark themes, obsession, possession, major character death, angst(?), yandere!aemond, smut (p in v, fingering), violence, murder, creepy behavior. + not proofread.

WC: 1,450

Aemond has always been obsessed with you as far as he can remember, he remembers the moment he fell in love with you.

He was a young boy, recently recovering from the incident at driftmark, wearing bandages around his face to recover, he didn't get out of his room much, too insecure to show his face after the incident.

The rare times he was out was to converse with his sister Helaena, and in those exchanges was when he met you, you were a lady of a small house, assigned to Helaena as a lady in waiting, or a playmate. She had introduced you to him and he was reluctant and had his guard up at first, but eventually he warmed up to you, and soon became friends with you too.

You saw him without his bandages once, it was an accident, Aemond panicked and screamed at you to get out, being extremely insecure at the wound, and you immediately obeyed, not wanting to anger him further.

You found him crying in a corner for an odd reason, and he looked up at you, before wiping his tears away and looking ahead. You sat down next to him to which he was surprised by.

“Why are you crying?” you asked him, and he sniffed, “You can drop the acting, I know you think I'm hideous, a monster.” he spits bitterly.

You gasp at that before quickly reply, “I do not, your wound is a proof of your bravery, I do not know how you got it, neither do I intend to pry on it if you are not comfortable, but it is a reminder that you are brave. That you overcame a dire situation.” you say and he sniffs once again, he hated being seen so vulnerable but never in his life did he feel so accepted and loved.

And then went on to tell you how he got it and by the end of the story you were seething, “Those vile bastards, how could they do that?” you seethed, Aemond was surprised at that before he chuckled, “I wasn't planning on hitting them with the rock, they are my nephews after all.” he explained his side and you nodded, defending him and taking his side.

It was the moment he fell in love with you, watching you talk about he didn't deserve that, you didn't pity him, you shared his anger and wrath, and from that moment onwards, he wanted to have you.

As you both grew older, Aemond's love got more twisted and dark, his love becoming obsessive and suffocating, he refused to let any man gaze at you longer than needed, always staying by your side and only leaving when he had to. He would lay on your lap as you read to him before pressing kisses on his forehead, you eventually fell in love with him too.

You were unaware of his doings, he killed multiple people who he saw as a threat, a threat to your relationship, he wanted to rip everyone who touched you to shreds, he wanted you to be only his, forever and ever.

And so begun your secret relationship, he would pull you to an isolate area to shower you in kisses and lovebites, he made your father get a position in the small council so you could stay in the keep, he would sneak to your room at night from the secret pathways.

He remembers vividly when he took your maidenhead, promising to marry you as he spilled his seed deep inside of you. He was the happiest man alive in that moment, he thought about you swelling with his child, and how much of a great mother you would be.

His plans came to an abrupt stop when he heard that you would be marrying a Cregan Stark, in hopes of bringing more allies to back up Aegon's claim when they usurp the throne, and also that Cregan had taken interest in you so much that he was willing to break an oath, which is never done by any Starks.

He saw red in those moments, felt pure rage, how could they propose that? The realm be damned for hells. He would rather rain fire on the realm than watch you get married off to someone else.

But alas, he was bound by duty and had to watch you be married to him, the wedding took place in the keep like your father had insisted, as the North would be too cold for them to visit.

The consummation of your marriage was to be done in your chambers. You had left early because you didn't want this either. Cregan was talking to important lords and it seemed that it would take a while before he retired.

So you laid on your bed thinking of what to do when you heard the door of the passageway open and your head snapped to the side finding Aemond, he immediately wasted no time pouncing on you.

“Fuck, fuck I can't let him have you.” He breathes against your neck, trailing kisses down to your breasts, he pulled up the chemise revealing your intimate area and breasts before he latched his mouth onto one and suckled like a hungry babe.

His hand trailed towards your intimate area, finding it wet already, “Is this for me or for him?” he asks, and your breath hitches in your throat when you feel him press the fingers down on your clit, “Y-you.” you say and he smirks before his rubs small circles against your clit.

His fingers trail down further and prod at your entrance before he slides in a finger, you gasp when you feel his fingers hit the rough patch almost immediately, it seems as if he knew it by memory. He thrust his fingers in and out, watching you squirm and moan his name, he wanted to be inside of you so badly, so he pulled his fingers out and licked them clean.

He undid his breeches before pushing your legs apart and burying himself in your cunt, you moaned in pleasure as you felt him spilt you open, you wrapped your legs around his hips and encouraged him to move, his hands pinned yours to the side before he started moving and rutting his hips against yours

You moaned and chanted his name like a prayer, he hands left your hands to grope your breasts as he kissed your lips, he pulled away to look at your dazed expression as he felt you clenching around him knowing that you are close, he watched as you closed your eyes before moaning his name out loud and coming undone beneath him, he groaned at the pretty sight.

His thrusts became more sloppier before he pushed to the hilt and came inside you with a loud gasp.

You both were breathing heavily, you pulled your chemise down and turned to him, he plopped down beside you, doing up his breeches and you rested your head on his chest, the moment was so perfect, but the truth weighed on him like a curse, and so he got up and paced the room, angrily, wanting to do something, but knowing he won't be able to do anything without destroying the alliance.

He can't let Cregan have you either.

You sat up and looked at him and then the atmosphere of the room shifted into a sinister one, Aemond going mad to his obsession with each second, he slowly stalked towards you before he stood in front of you, caressing your face and leaning down to kiss you.

“You're mine, you belong to me, I can't let him have you, no no, you're mine.” he grunted angrily and just then something evil popped up in his head.

His hand slowly reached for his dagger, you watched him, confused.

“If I can't have you…… ” he trailed off before kissing you.

“No one can.” he whispered against your lips as he plunged the dagger straight into your chest, digging it in your heart and stabbed you, you gasped in pain before the light in your eyes faded, falling unconscious.

He pulled his dagger out and watched as you fell backwards onto the bed, the life leaving your body, the blood soaking your chemise and now the white blood sheets, he snapped out of his dark thoughts and felt the weight of the situation.

He panicked when he realised what he had done, he immediately left the room when he heard the door open, hiding in the passageway, having guilt weigh on him, but he also felt satisfied in a sick way that no one could ever have you now, just like he can't.

Cregan screamed for the guards and for some odd reason, this entire situation somehow was blamed on the blacks, accusing them of sending assassins to kill you, this only made Cregan support the greens more.

Aemond had achieved what he wanted, but he couldn't bear to live along with the fact that you were gone, feeling lonely, he went mad and so, he followed you.

That day, Alicent screamed when she found Aemond's dead body, a letter written to apologise to everyone for leaving them behind, but he couldn't bear to live without you.

And so you and Aemond went down as a tragic story of unrequited love.

Where everyone tells the stories of how Aemond was smitten with you since a young age, but he watched you get married off to someone else and also die in the same night, it was told how he mourned and grieved for you, succumbing to madness before finally following suit.

The story was more sinister than that.

However they wouldn't know.

Nobody would know the truth.

———

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