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breadbrobin · 4 months

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the trees

clarisse la rue x reader — percy jackson and the olympians

[fem!daughter of apollo reader]

summary: you have a very specific skill set that helps your team with capture the flag, and clarisse thinks it’s fascinating. in fact, she thinks you’re as fascinating as you think she is.

warnings: swearing, arguments, fighting, PINING, heights i guess (reader is up a tree), possibly ooc clarisse but not too much i hope.

word count: 2.5k

(so the brainrot has (inevitably) spread to clarisse. there’s gonna be a part two to this as well, so lmk if y’all want it (tbh i’ll probably post it anyway but still). oh and also i love her and i am a clarisse apologist and lover until the day i die)

(sort-of-enemies to sort-of-lovers, but more like idiots to pining idiots (in a tree))

(part 2 here)

———————————————

archery wasn’t the only thing you were good at, but it was by far the best thing you were good at. a daughter of apollo: master of archery, mediocre of music and magical at making weird ass noises. bird calls, animal sounds, imitations—you name it, you could do it.

and those were useful tactics in capture the flag, for sure.

annabeth chase was a master strategist, and you had to give it to her: she remembered everyone’s strengths, weaknesses and alliances while you couldn’t even remember what you’d had for breakfast that day.

as always, you were tucked up in a tree, around halfway up. you weren’t too high, so that you could speak and people wouldn’t automatically know you were above them, but you weren’t too low so they couldn’t see you.

you kind of liked being in the trees now. after three years of capture the flag and around six months of freaking out every time you climbed above ten feet, you were finally used to it. it was almost calming; a way for you to relax after a stressful day and pretend that nothing around you existed.

until the red team came by, that is.

that’s what you were waiting for. the flag was around fifty feet to your right. your job was to be a lookout and a distraction.

it was your favourite part of the game, getting to trick people and shoot arrows at them when they came too close, allowing the blue team members around the bottom of your tree to pop out and disarm their opponents.

it wasn’t a trick you used every time—not even the ares cabin are that stupid—but when you did use it, you had the time of your life.

there was a snapping branch to your left. you straightened up from where you were leaning against the tree trunk behind you and peered through the leaves. you were perched on a thick bough, hidden by leaves and branches, but able to see enough through them that you could do your job.

you could hear voices, but you couldn’t see anyone.

you listened carefully. you knew that voice.

you realised with a start who it was.

clarisse la rue.

fucking clarisse, man. she drove you insane. and not for the reason she drove most of camp insane. no, unlike almost everyone else, you were attracted to her. in fact, you were, annoyingly, in love with her, you’d have to admit. it was infuriating.

you could hear her cutting through the forest. it was strange. she didn’t usually come for the flag. usually, she hunted in the woods and caught stragglers. she didn’t want the glory as much as she wanted the fight. to her, winning the battle seemed more important than winning the war.

regardless of why, you could hear her voice. she was talking to her siblings below you, creeping through the foliage.

the sun was warm on your face and you send up a brief prayer to your father.

from your lips slipped an almost perfect impression of your blue team guards. you’d used this trick last game, but clarisse hadn’t been there, so she wouldn’t know. “i can’t believe they put us on guard duty again.”

they all froze in their tracks, looking at each other, then ahead in the opposite direction from the flag.

you held in a snicker. “ugh, yeah, it’s the worst. i mean, why can’t we do anything fun? i wanna fight clarisse!”

you could see the smirk curling on her lips and you had to stop yourself from blushing.

you continued this cat and mouse game. the ares kids below you fanned out, aiming to surround you. it would have been a smart move, if there was actually a flag there and not just a tree.

slowly, they inched in, then leapt out.

“ahh!! you caught us! i’ve been impaled!”

they looked around in fear and confusion but clarisse looked straight up. she always did.

“hey, angel, nice voice,” she mocked. “wanna come on down?”

you shook your head. “no, thanks, i’m comfortable.”

she raised and eyebrow, seeing your arrow drawn and pointed directly at her. “that’s not necessary.”

“isn’t it?” your arrow flew and, though she hit it away, you teammates came pouring out of the foliage, having been waiting for your signal.

a fight ensued. it looked like it was going well for a short while, then the tides turned.

they weren’t as caught off guard as they usually were. hell, clarisse was even smiling!

with what looked like very little effort, the ares campers effectively destroyed your teammates. they were left disarmed and defeated, and you were stuck in a tree. typical.

as her siblings took their weapons, clarisse looked up at you. “you wanna come down now?”

you shook your head. “rather not. the view from up here is pretty good.”

she muttered something to herself, but you couldn’t hear her. then she spoke up. “what if we come up there?”

you drew your bow back immediately and an arrow pierced the dirt right in front of her foot.

she looked down at it, then back up at you, an amused smirk on her face. “right, silly me.”

that surprised you. she was usually cold and cruel in capture the flag, always taking no prisoners and leaving no survivors—in a technical sense. you’d seen people nursing their minor wounds after the games when your siblings forced you to help out in the infirmary (not that you’re much help in there, but regardless), and everyone heard the stories they’d tell of clarisse appearing out of the ferns and attacking ruthlessly. so why was she not being so ruthless today?

she was certainly cruel in her fight against your team members, but any other day, she would have thrown her spear at you or thrown one of your arrows back, or even climbed up anyway. instead, she just smirked up at you, content to wait.

“where’s the flag, bows?” she asked, using a nickname she’d only used a few times, one that referenced both the bows you used and the bows you sometimes put in your hair.

you shrugged. “dunno. they don’t tell me anything. i just get out here and told to be annoying.” your traitorous eyes flickered to the direction of the flag. you’d never been good at lying.

and curse her, clarisse noticed. she always noticed when it came to you, it seemed. whether it was catching you in a lie, catching you when you were admiring her or catching your every move when sparring, she always noticed.

she nodded at her siblings and they moved off. “i’ll wait here. try and flush our squirrel out.”

if they were confused or surprised, they didn’t show it.

once they were gone, clarisse plucked the arrow from the dirt and studied it. “this is new.”

“sam from hephaestus made them,” you said meekly. why would she stay behind? it didn’t make sense. you weren’t a threat, or even a good fight.

her face darkened. “oh. and where is your boyfriend now, then? hm?”

your cheeks flamed. “he’s not my boyfriend.” and it was true. he wasn’t. despite the fact that he liked you and made things for you all the time, your heart was decidedly with another. and she was right below you, tossing your prized arrow aside like an old tissue. “he’s on your team anyway. you should know where he is.”

she smirked again. “oh, yeah. i remember now. that’s right, i sent him to try and get our flag. he didn’t even make it five steps before he was attacked.”

her bitter laugh made your heart clench. was it pity for sam or your feelings for her, or both? you weren’t sure. either way, it was starting to get on your nerves.

it was silent for a long time. she looked up at you every few seconds, then at the tree, like she was gauging how hard she’d have to push you for you to die on impact. her eyes were sharp and her smile was sharper, and fuck you were attracted to her.

you cleared your throat and broke the silence, hearing fighting off in the near distance. you would go and help, but the only way for you to do so would be to tree-hop all the way to the flag, and while you could do it, it wasn’t the best idea. “why did you stay h—what are you doing?” you aimed an arrow at her.

“relax, angel, we both know you won’t actually shoot me.” she was climbing up the tree. fast. “and don’t worry, i’m not gonna push you out or attack you. i don’t like looking up at you.”

call you stupid or whipped or whatever, but you believed her. you lowered your bow but didn’t lessen the tension on your string. she’d almost reached your branch when you swivelled around to face her. you moved fast, your arrow returning to its holster and you body facing the trunk of the tree with your legs swung over each side of the wide bough. your dagger was swiftly removed from its holster and pressed under clarisse’s chin.

she laughed at you.

you faltered slightly. “what?”

“nothing,” she snickered. “i just saw it coming. now scoot back.”

you dropped your dagger and shifted backwards, glad the bough was strong.

she clambered onto your branch easily, sitting facing you with her back against the tree trunk, a smirk on her face.

you sighed bitterly. “you see everything coming.”

she shrugged. “pretty much. but so do you.”

“that’s the gift of divine premonition,” you grumbled. it could be useful sometimes, but all you really got was a sense, a feeling or, occasionally, a single frame of a moment. right now, though, your senses were so clogged with her vanilla-strawberry and leather scent, and with her, that you could hardly think, let alone experience a minor prophecy. not to mention the fact that if you did, you’d probably fall out of the tree.

she shrugged. “isn’t that useful?”

“yeah, when it actually works or doesn’t make me pass out.” you shrugged. “it’s temperamental.”

she hummed in thought, leaning back and crossing her arms. her knees were mere centimetres from yours.

“what are you doing up here, clarisse?” you asked.

she shrugged, but you could see a shift in her demeanour when she said your name. it was like the muscles in her shoulders relaxed for a moment, then tensed again. “didn’t want you to escape.”

“so you let your other prisoners escape?” you gestured to the ground, where your teammates were sitting around fifteen feet from the tree in a circle, plucking the grass.

clarisse raised her eyebrows at you in amusement. “oh, i think they’re fine. they’re too scared of me to do anything, anyway.”

you narrowed your eyes at her. “i don’t think you’re that scary.”

she rolled her eyes. “sure. but everyone else does. so you’re wrong.”

“it was my opinion. my opinion can’t be wrong if it’s my opinion.” that was another thing: you were never one to start an argument, but by god would you escalate it.

“your opinions wrong if i say it’s wrong,” she huffed, her jaw tight.

“not how opinions work, babe,” you said lightly, using your dagger point to carve away at the bark beneath you.

she smacked your hand to stop you. “you’re gonna dull it!”

“the point is already dull!” you protested, poking your finger to show her. it indented, but didn’t draw blood. “see?”

“so, what, you threatened me with a butter knife? i’m offended.”

“it’s the idea of it that cuts deeper anyway. the primal fear of being gutted by a dagger. in capture the flag at least.” you shrugged, carving a wonky flower in the bark. “it’s more about threats than action.”

clarisse rolled her eyes. “and what if a monster comes and attacks you, and all you’ve got is this blunt dagger?”

“you ever seen an archers muscles?” you turned slightly and flexed your shoulders. you could see her eyes follow the sharp lines of your shoulders and back. “i’ll use force. force is more effective than sharpness. you know that.”

“and yet, my weapons are all still sharp.” she snatched the dagger from you and pulled out a whetstone from a pocket in her cargo pants. she began sharpening your blade.

“hey, don’t—“

she smacked your hand with the flat of your own blade when you reached for it, and you withdrawn with a hiss, shaking your hand. she laughed. “i guess force is more important, huh, angel?”

your cheeks were hot. “don’t call me that.”

“why, you worried you might like it?” she looked up, teasing. her eyes narrowed at the look on your face and then she grinned. “you do like it.”

“no. shut up.”

she laughed again, but it was a little softer than usual. she looked back down at the dagger. “did sam make this for you?”

“yeah, w—clarisse!” you gasped as she dropped it off the bough. or, more accurately, threw it off the bough. “what was that for?”

she shrugged. “it’s not that good. i’ll get you a better one from the ares stash. don’t worry.”

you glared at her. “that was mine, though!”

“it was blunt and poorly made,” she protested. “it wasn’t good enough for you.”

the way she said it made you think there was a double meaning there.

“he’s not good enough for you,” she said, softer, proving you right.

your eyes were wide and your cheeks were flaming. “what?”

“you heard me.” her softness was staying, it seemed. if you weren’t mistaken, her hand was reaching for yours. “he’s not. you know he’s not. why do you like him?”

before you could respond, a horn blew in the distance and cheering erupted from around the forest. red team had won.

clarisse didn’t look happy. she leaned back—you hadn’t even realised she’d leaned forward—and glared at the bough between you both.

“congratulations,” you said softly. “you deserved the win.”

“yeah, we did.” her voice carried very little enthusiasm.

you studied her face for a minute, like you were committing every feature to memory. “clarisse…”

she didn’t respond. instead, she swung her leg over the bough and started climbing down. only when she got two branches down did you begin to follow her, hurrying in your attempt to catch up. you couldn’t. no matter how good you were at something, she was better.

she nodded at you as she walked off, your foot caught in a tight spot.

once you’d finally got down, your teammates were surrounding you. some asked you what had happened, some accused you of being a double agent for them, some asked if you were okay.

you answered them all absently as you all walked back towards the stream, but your heart wasn’t in it. what the hell was going on?

you’d reached the stream by the time you realised you’d left your dagger behind, and you were back at your cabin, trying to fall asleep, when you realised that it didn’t bother you at all.

(part 2)

#clarisse la rue #clarisse la rue x reader #clarisse la rue x y/n #clarisse la rue x you #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #clarisse pjo #clarisse x reader #dior goodjohn #pjo #pjo x reader #pjo tv show

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velocesainz · 17 days

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Hi, can you do an angsty fic inspired by “I gotta go my own way” from HSM2. If can either be Charles or Lando or Charlando and they fuck up or something and reader leaves them? Maybe hurt/no comfort? It’s okay if you don’t want to

A/n: this was a very interesting request and it took me quite a while to really get the plot line. Hope you enjoy!

One heart broke six hands bloody

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Summary: Charles and Lando are in a relationship with reader and they slowly stop paying attention to her and missing important events. The last straw is when they miss your birthday.

Warnings: sad, angstyy, hurt

Pairing: Charles x Lando x reader

Reader pov:

It had been nearly five months since they started acting distant to me.

I don’t know why.

We were so good all together

It was like we completed each other

But recently they’ve really started to distance themselves and ignore me.

Constantly say they have meetings and leave home when I know they don’t drive I’m in contact with their teammates

Were they both cheating on me?

I woke up in our shared bed with nobody by my side.

I went on about my day realising they both had left for some sort of meeting with their respective teams

They returned home late at night completely wasted

“Where were you two? I’ve been worried sick! I called you both so many times, why didn’t you guys pick up?” I questioned

“Oh shut up mom.” Was all Lando said before they both left to go to bed

The next day was one I would usually be excited for but maybe not this year

My birthday

I would usually celebrate it with my two boyfriends but they seem to not want to spend time with me at all

I walked into the kitchen to see them scrolling on Charles’s giggling and whispering to Lando about something. They would do that with me too but I guess not anymore.

“Hey guys, what’s for breakfast?” I asked them seeing they had made their breakfast already

“Oh..we didn’t make you any. We thought you would do it yourself” Charles said

I sighed and went upstairs to get ready, my appetite knocked out by his words

I got dressed and left the house watching them not care

I hung out around Monaco since I had no friends here, just Charles and Lando

It started raining and I was freezing on my way back to our apartment. As I walked in I found them on their game not bothering to focus on anything but that and each other

“Hey I’m back” I announced as best as I could in my feverish voice due to the intense shivering

“Yea yea whatever just make us dinner” Lando said

What is up with them?

“You can do that yourself. In fact you guys should have done it for me at least today of all days”

They looked at me and asked “What are you talking about?”

I give up on these two

“It was my birthday today and you guys didn’t even bother to wish me or spend time with me. You both have been so secretive and distant from and it feels like you have fallen out of love. I’m leaving. I’m not dealing with this shit any longer”

I walked up to my bedroom and started packing the essentials

Charles pov

How did we not realise we were hurting our dearest so much?

We were ignoring her as we were going to propose to her and knew Lando wouldn’t keep his mouth shut if he started talking

We were so stressed about getting the perfect rings that we completely neglected y/n

Me and Lando looked at each other and chased after her to the bedroom to see her packing her things

“Cheri please don’t leave us we apologise for our horrible behaviour” I begged

“We were working on something very important and in that stress we completely neglected we’re extremely sorry” Lando said

“I don’t care for your explanations. My state of mind has not been good thanks to you two and I refuse to worsen it. I’m leaving and that’s final” she said

All our hearts were breaking as she said this. We ruined a beautiful relationship because we cared about materialistic things over our actual love for each other.

Now there was nothing we could do anymore.

She packed her bags and left the apartment telling us not to follow her and we’d broken her heart enough I’m sure she wouldn’t want to listen to us anymore.

One heart broke and left six hands bloody.

A/n: I’m sorry I took super long to finish this request. Hope you enjoyed and make sure to leave feedback! Kissies ✨

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@grantaires-waistcoat

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actual-changeling · 5 months

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No Nightingales

or: the one time they are actually on the same page

Welcome back to Alex's unhinged meta corner—we once again find ourselves in the final fifteen because I am far from done with them.

I already dove deep into the potential meaning of that phrase, you can find the meta post here, but regardless of what it stands for, the important part of today's post is their mutual recognition of it.

During their entire argument, they are on two different levels of understanding, and while Crowley is somewhat aware of that, Aziraphale very much isn't. But then, right at the end, Crowley invokes the nightingales, and suddenly they find themselves on the same plane of communication.

Let's start from the beginning. Well, not the beginning beginning, but rather the beginning of the end of their conversation.

Aziraphale is visibly upset, there's a strong undercurrent of genuine anger within the hurt, and he reverts back to an almost petulant expression when he tells Crowley "there's nothing more to say".

The movement he is doing with his mouth—maybe biting his cheeks from the looks of it—is the same one as at the end of their very first argument of the season. In the back of the bookshop with Jimbriel being the centre of their discussion, he eventually tells Crowley "but if you won't, you won't". When he sits down and throws his little temper tantrum, it's the same expression of 'I am kicking you out, go leave'.

In episode 1, Crowley does indeed leave, although we all know he comes back later that evening, but not this time. He knows Aziraphale, he knows exactly why he is doing what he is doing, why he is saying what he is saying, and while it broke his heart, it also means he is out of patience and energy.

For six thousand years, he has been trying to get Aziraphale to understand—and he simply refused to do the work necessary for that, preferring to stay in his cognitive dissonance framework of the world.

They are as done as they can be in that moment, and yet Crowley stays and tries one more thing: No nightingales.

"Listen, do you hear that?" is not a question Aziraphale expected, which is quite obvious in his annoyed reaction.

(side note: If someone I love were to talk to me the way Aziraphale responds to Crowley here I'd slap them and walk out. The absolute disrespect in his tone is appalling and Crowley deserves a reward for putting up with it.)

"I don't hear anything," and he isn't getting it just yet, still angry and petulant, still upset.

But then that changes. "That's the point. No nightingales," and Crowley is looking at him like it means something, begging him to listen, to understand—and Aziraphale DOES.

Look at the change in his expression, all that angry annoyance is gone and replaced by a sad dawning of understanding. If you compare this expression with his earlier one, the shift is as obvious as a blinking neon sign on a dark road.

Whatever the exact meaning of 'no nightingales' is, it is unambiguous and a fundamental part of how they communicate about their relationship with each other. Aziraphale has his oh moment, he is forced to confront the entire argument they just had and what it lead them to, what it destroyed.

That is what Crowley tells him, what hits Aziraphale hard enough to completely push him off-balance, to make him sad and visibly hurt instead of angry and upset. Michael 'microexpressions' Sheen strikes again.

Focus on the look in his eyes, the small, almost imperceptible shift, the shame that appears, and the tears it brings. He averts his gaze at first and then raises it back to Crowley because he understands now, he finally realised what Crowley has been trying to tell him the entire time.

No nightingales. It means we're done, we're over. It means I cannot come with you, I have to leave and safe myself. It means I love you, I know you love me, but it isn't enough.

It means we could have been us—but not anymore. Crowley sees him understand, and THAT is why he calls him an idiot; it's not about him returning to heaven or any of the other shit he said. It is about Aziraphale not listening to Crowley, of being so caught up in his bullshit he did not understand the simple message he was being told.

"You idiot. We could have been us."

I love you I love you I love you but now we are ruined and I blame you. If you had listened we could have been happy together, but look at where we ended up instead.

Aziraphale is still staring at him, but once those words leave Crowley's mouth, the tears begin to rise. Lips pressed together to keep himself from crying, the little wobble disturbing them, the pure, distilled pain etching itself into his face.

Shame. Guilt. Anger. Blaming Crowley, blaming himself. Aziraphale is confused, forced to make decisions without getting the space to breathe, to think, and he fell back into the easiest option—be a good angel and do what heaven says.

A part of him KNOWS all of that. It knows what he just did, what he ruined, how much they ended up hurting each other. So the tears come, and when he can no longer keep himself from crying, he turns away.

Crowley understandably combusts at that because really? Really? You dare to turn away from me after all this? I ripped myself open in front of you, and when I FINALLY manage to make you understand you turn your back on me?

He is desperate and hurt, heartbroken beyond repair, and there are six millennia of hopeless love spilling over—so he kisses him.

Hear me, listen to me, understand, I love you I love you I love you, I am losing you, I don't want to lose you, we're done. I know this won't change anything. I know what you will tell me, but I need to try. I need to make sure you know how much I love you.

I need you to understand what you are leaving behind.

There is no secret conversation happening, there's no trick, otherwise this moment of realisation would not exist.

But it does. It is right there for everyone to see.

After everything, this was probably the most painful moment for me, because you see him get it. You see him process, you see him understand, you can practically taste the chaos unfolding in his mind.

Aziraphale understands, but it is too late, and so he finishes what he started and leaves anyway.

#alex talks good omens #good omens #ineffable husbands #crowley #aziraphale #good omens season 2 #go2 #aziracrow #crowley x aziraphale #ineffable divorce #the final fifteen #good omens meta #no nightingales

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lostinlewis · 3 months

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Rating: M

Words: 2178

You typed the six digits into the keypad of his door like it was just another Sunday visit, you knew it was significant that he had kept the code the same for the past few months, significant or slack, but you knew him better than to believe he would be slack about anything, least of all his security.

Lewis had practically invited you over, first the thirst trap he posted to Instagram, the one in which he made sure to show the Cream cushion you had bought him last year, the one in which told you he was back in London for the first time in months, and then with the caption that was quite clearly a response to you. He was ready, he was telling you he was ready.

The house was empty but for the soft music that played through every speaker in the house, something Lewis had insisted on installing the moment he bought the house, just so he could spend nights with you dancing from room to room as you drank wine and made plans for the future.

‘I thought you were over me?’ His voice came from the stairway as you passed it, his tone completely unreadable. ‘I thought you said that you never wanted to see me again?’

You turned to face him, he hadn’t bothered to get dressed post work-out, instead he was standing on the stairs with nothing but a White towel wrapped around his waist, the tie working overtime to keep it from falling to the floor. A part of you wished it would, you needed him disarmed, you needed him to not question your presence nor your reasoning, but you also knew the luck always laid with him.

‘We both said a lot of things.’

You tried so hard to project confidence in your voice but he could hear the way in which you trembled with fear. You had worked so hard to convince yourself that he was not the man for you, countless nights spent reading romance novels in which the male love interest displayed obvious and cliched signs of affection just to try and trick your brain into wanting that over a man who always struggled with his emotions. Yet here you were again, six months after you swore you would never speak to him again, you stood at the bottom of his stairs watching him descend towards you looking like some kind of god from the heavens.

‘You kept the code the same, that’s not like you?’

Lewis smiled as he met you at your level, both of you the same height had meant that as you gazed into each other's eyes it was virtually impossible to break away. It also meant that when he moved but a breath away from you, it forced you to feel the warmth of his lips almost against yours, teasing you with the possibility of feeling them once more, daring you to be strong enough to resist.

‘I told you as you walked out the door six months ago, I was never going to stop you from coming back to me and I meant it. If I changed the code you would have made it as far as the gate and turned away, wouldn’t you? I couldn’t risk losing the chance to see you because of one little code now, could I?’

He was so close to you now it felt like he was touching you, your skin yearned for the feel of his, your waist ached to be held, and yet he was polite, he was cautious with you, he resisted the urge to do anything but look into your eyes.

‘Why Lewis? Why now?’

His eyes traced down your nose until they fixated on your lips, forcing you to part them, your body reacting to his on instinct as if time was irrelevant and it was only yesterday that it belonged to him.

‘Because…’ Somehow he moved even closer to you, this time his hands found their place on your hips like they had nowhere else to rest. ‘I really needed to do this.’

The very moment his lips met yours you felt your whole body relax, it was then that you realised that for the past six months you had been tense, your muscles in knots constantly, every fibre of your being felt off without his touch.

He was so greedy with his lips, devouring your own as one hand lay on your waist, the other moving down your ass to hold it, pulling you so close to him now you could feel his excitement pressed against you.

Lewis took control so naturally that you never had to think of a thing when he was around, and that included during intimate moments like this. With one swift movement he had your legs wrapped around his waist as he carried you up the stairs to his bedroom like you were as light as a feather, placing you down on his bed to really get a look at you.

It didn’t matter to him that you were fully dressed. Of course he knew every inch of your body, he had studied it enough, but as he stood to the end of the bed just looking at you, it wasn’t your naked body he was admiring, it was the whole of you. That was the part of romance novels that he always had them beat, whilst he was never one for flowers on a random Tuesday, nor was he one to make public declarations of love, the look in his eyes as he stared at you was so filled with love that even Jane Austen would struggle to find the words to describe it.

‘Come here…’

Your plea a whisper, barely audible over the music that continued to play, but he knew what you wanted from the way your body arched towards him, begging him to join you on the bed.

He let the towel fall to the floor with no shame, every inch of the man you remembered, he climbed in between your still clothed legs and seemed to take delight in getting to undress you. As his fingers undid your clothing to reveal another piece of you, his lips warmed the newly bare skin, the perfect excuse to taste every part of you.

The very moment he had you stripped bare he could do nothing for a moment but look at you once again, Lewis saw all of you, the stretchmarks you hated, the scars from childhood too, yet what you viewed as a flaw, he viewed as perfection. He had told you so many times before how you were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, and as he knelt between your legs, his eyes unable to take in enough of you at one time by the way they darted from skin to skin, you could see it was the truth.

When desire became too overwhelming for him to fight any longer, he wrapped a hand around your ankle pulling it up to meet your lips. Lewis loved the taste of you, sure he would spend hours between your legs if he could, but he loved the taste of your skin, as he kissed from your foot, up your leg, you heard his breathing get deeper, the odd soft growl leave his lips. Nothing satisfied him more than having the taste of you on his tongue.

He wasn’t shy about eating pussy, nor did he ever start off slow. Being granted permission to live between your thighs for that period of time made him show you just how much he appreciated it. His lips wrapped around the hood of your clit as he kissed it first, before he sucked your clit into his mouth just to hear the gasp leave your lips, and feel your whole body rise off the bed.

‘Fuck…Lewis…oh my god.’

The words fell off your lips as if pleading for mercy would do anything but spur him on. Every moan made him tease your clit with his tongue harder, every time your hands gripped at the sheets he drove his tongue deeper inside of you. Lewis could make you feel things that even you couldn’t do to yourself, and no one else on earth could make you cum just as quickly as he did.

Your moans now were continuous, the waves of pleasure that ran through your body unstoppable. You could feel it building quickly, you knew he could too. Lewis ground into the mattress to satisfy himself just a little as he flicked at your clit with a pulsation that bettered any Rose vibrator.

Your breath held still in your chest as you peaked, feeling the explosion in every nerve ending in your body you shook violently on the bed as he held your waist down, ensuring that he could eat you through every wave and then into a state of sensitive ecstasy. It was only when he felt you jerk with every lick that he came up for air. His beard proudly carrying remnants of your pleasure, he licked his lips with a satisfied smile on his face.

If it wasn’t for how incredibly hard he was, his dick practically pulsating in desperation for your help, you would have thought he got himself off too but he hadn’t, he was saving that for you.

Your hands reached for his dick, you always needed them both to really hold him, before he grabbed your wrists and placed them above your head as he laid his full weight on top of you, nibbling at your throat.

‘I need to be inside of you.’

His words growled into your ear as he sucked on your earlobe, you could feel the tip of his dick threatening to enter you as he tried so hard to hold back. You knew that it meant he wouldn’t last long, he never could when you had been away from each other for so long, not that you cared a bit. It could have been three strokes and he was done and you still would have loved every single one.

‘Let me…’

In his weakened state you knew just what to do to make him feel good. Lewis fell to the bed as you climbed on top of him, hovering over his dick so close that you began to drip over it, his eyes rolling to the back of his head. He was painfully erect now, his desire for you almost torturous.

‘Please baby…’

He begged you for it with a look in his eyes that was so incredibly vulnerable you could do nothing but take pity on him. Sitting down on him slowly you felt him stretch you with every inch that he filled you with. Lewis hissed as he bottomed out inside of you, his fingers digging into your hips so brutally you knew he would leave a mark for days.

You could feel him pulsate with desperation inside of you as you kept still, it felt cruel almost to tease him, yet you never wanted this moment to end. Lewis had had enough now, his hands on your hips began rocking you, encouraging you, pleading with you to show mercy and fuck him just how he needed to be fucked in that moment; you obliged.

One of your hands on the compass that decorated his torso, the other held his to your breast, you began to ride him fast, your ass bouncing up and down on him so quickly the room filled with the sounds of skin slapping against skin.

Lewis had never been ashamed to be loud, he always made sure to let you know how good you were making him feel, and so his grunts, his groans, the deep moans he sang into the air only encouraged you more.

The burn in your thighs was so intense now yet not a single part of you could stop. His body began to jolt, his hands grabbed desperately at your hips to try and take back a semblance of control, but you wouldn’t give it to him, you wouldn’t let up. Your rhythm unmatched now as you rode him, you heard his breathing labour now as his orgasm teetered on the edge.

‘Give it to me, Lewis. I need it.’

Your sentence had barely rolled off your tongue before he did just that. His hips thrusting up to meet you as he groaned out his orgasm, reams of cum decorating your walls, so much so it was as if he wanted to make sure you would never be empty of him again.

You fell forward onto his chest, your head finding the crook of his next as if it belonged there, his dick softening inside of you but not wanting to leave your warmth. For the first time in six months it felt like you were exactly where you were meant to be, wrapped in the big arms of the only man you had ever loved.

‘I’m not letting you go this time. I’m ready…’

#lewis hamilton one shot #lewis hamilton fanfic #lewis hamilton fanfiction #lewis hamilton smut

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flowerandblood · 2 months

Text

ONE YEAR OF FLOWER&BLOOD

✨🎉🌙✨🎉🌙✨🎉🌙✨🎉🌙✨🎉🌙✨🎉🌙

Exactly one year ago I posted my first chapter of the My Best Friend series. Nowadays I think it's something awful and I don't even try to edit it because I'd have to write everything from scratch, but I've left it for people who feel attached to the story. I remember getting about six likes and one comment on the first day and that huuuuge interest made me eager to create chapter 2 and then all the others.

I remember the excitement with which I waited and then replied to comments, not believing that people were actually waiting for the next chapter. At the time I was literally not following anyone, which was good because I wasn't comparing myself to anyone.

Eventually I felt I was ready to try writing other series and a few were successful enough that I decided to stay here permanently and create because it made me happy. Up to that point, everyone had been very kind to me and I started following more and more blogs, wanting to feel part of the fandom, to make friends with everyone. Now I know that was the biggest mistake I made.

Seeing things that didn't interest me, fanfic's whose way of writing couldn't draw me in, I felt frustrated, while at the same time fearing that if I stopped following someone, that person would see it as an affront. At the same time, The Impossible Choice, my biggest project until The Fall from the Heavens (which I'm currently editing and re-editing, while inserting on AO3), began to be written.

Just when I thought I had reached the pinnacle of my abilities (which wasn't true), I also started to clash with anonymous hate messages, probably the worst of which were those vilifying me and my husband, and those regarding my one-shot with Micheal Gavey. I know now that taking it personally and getting involved was my big mistake, and the fandom was shaken by drama that got out of hand.

I was a few steps away from deleting my blog at the time, but my husband talked me out of the idea (thankfully, as my stories aren't saved anywhere else − I'm only now moving them to AO3).

That's when I first realised that some people here I don't even like, and they probably don't like me. I wondered, why are we following each other then? Why are we pretending to have any courtesy? It was only later that I realised that to be considered someone's friend, you have to reblog their work and preferably agree with them even when they write hurtful things.

Since I've depleted my circle of those I follow to about 20 people, since I've blocked dozens of people and tags, there's been blissful silence (with the exceptions of when I write about behaviour in the fandom that I find toxic and someone accuses me of causing drama, but I'm used to it now). I've also never written happier than I do now.

Ideas come to me on their own, I don't feel uptight about what other big people will think of me, whether they reblog it, approve of it or not. I don't give a shit and life is beautiful! Although I can be emotionally unstable, I'm only 70 people short of crossing the next milestone of 3,000 followers, and that's BIG for me. It amuses me that I keep getting messages that someone is going to block me or stop following me, and you guys keep coming. It's gratifying.

I'm going to keep writing for you guys, and I'm sure during season two you'll also see my posts describing my impressions after the episodes in which I hope to involve my husband. I'll also keep you updated here on how I'm doing with my book I'm creating in my private life.

Apreciation

@ewanmitchellcrumbs

Ange. I know that sometimes I'm fucked up, but I want you to know that you've made this place so much more bearable for me that I can't imagine it without you. What I appreciate most about you is that you can talk and discuss, that you always try to understand the other side, that you are empathetic, warm and kind. I feel that, like friends in everyday life, we can also tell each other about things we disagree about, and there are not many people like that here.

On top of that, you are very talented and your stories are always a pleasure to read, even when they are short, you are able to build the plot and atmosphere perfectly, something I have always admired. Thank you for every kind word and understanding.

I still remember your first message to me via ask, referring to the fact that I didn't want to write a pairing with a mermaid because someone else was writing about it at the same time. My heart melted then, it was so nice!

@targaryenrealnessdarling

Liz, Queen of Angst! Your calmness and composure puts me in awe. You're disgustingly talented when it comes to writing and you have a super-sweet personality. When you started following me I began to squirm with delight, and when you started reblogging my stuff? My goodness!!!

@persephonerinyes

You've been engaging and reblogging my stories for as long as I can remember. Always involved, your thoughts make me smile. Thank you for being with me for so long!

@zenka96

You've been here with me since the dawn of time. You know that I love you. Your support from the very beginning really makes me feel like I have a friend here.

@huramuna

I am so proud of you! I remember your asks when I wrote Glass Cuts Deepest, your illustrations for me and your uncertainty about whether you should start writing yourself. I'm so happy for you and that you are so successful! You deserved it.

@black-dread & @aegonx

You are my favourite gif makers. Your work always leaves me in awe, you are amazing! I know how much work you put into it and somehow you make even the worst lit scenes look wonderful!

@summerposie; @0eessirk8; @melsunshine; @immyowndefender; @bellaisasleep; @kckt88; @thedamewithabook; @happinessinthebeing; @queenofshinigamis; @travelingmypassion; @mefools; @fan-goddess; @toodlesxcuddles; @ammo23; @troublesomesnitch; @mariahossain; @out-of-life; @apothe-roses; @heavenhatesme; @whitearemydarkestnight; @liv-cole; @blackswxnn; @echos-muses; @watercolorskyy; @at-a-rax-ia; @tssf-imagines; @snh96; @hiatuswhore; @exitpursuedbyavulcan; @darylandbethfanforever9; @the-dendrophile-bookdragon; @opheliaas-stuff @zaldritzosrose

Your comments and reblogs make me want to keep writing. You make me laugh, you comfort me and you support me. I know I'm definitely forgetting someone, but I want you to know that I love everyone who comments on my stories and there is nothing better for me than responding to your reactions and questions! I have known some of you for so many months that I truly consider you my good friends!

lottie-blue-star; aveatquevale-; aemondtargaryenwifey marvelescvpe; alphard-hydraes-blog; herejusttostan; li0nn3stuff; alexandrawho; vilmakamunen; angelinap09; theloveablestargirl; rose-blue-19; xxxkat3xxx; flosaureum; mandiiblanche; librawh0re; jasminecosmic99; ivvypg; rojocarnation; killmanduh; tokkiiidoll; wolfdressedinlace; angelofvivianne; nina2697; starwarsgirlsimmer1; katsucker; ipostwhtifeel; aemondsdelight; ilswemoon; tigrigri; pasta-rask; roselibrary; lystargs; gemini-mama; nikstrange; tempo-rary-fix; coffeeobsessedtrencher; gwuinivyre; dreamerbythewayx; diiickbrainn; mothmankit

And everyone else I missed and whose icons I would recognize from afar. I know that you have been with me for many months, often in silence or communicating anonymously. Your silent support and presence is something wonderful for me, knowing that you have been with me for so long and read all my posts!

Thankyouthankyouthankyou!!!!

#one year anniversary #celebration

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freshfraise · 1 year

Note

Mbappe x reader where he is really possessive and angry and jealous. You can come up with the scenario. Maybe something like what u did for Richi 🫶🏼✨

TERRITORIAL

pairing: mbappe x reader

summary: On the day of one of Kylian’s vital matches, speculations cloud the pitch. Both Y/N and Mbappe learn the crucial power of privacy, realising what people don’t know, they can’t ruin.

author’s note: angst!! possessive and jealous mbappe!! honestly i love writing for him!! plus i tried some new things <33. hope u enjoy and sorry for the long wait :) + i imagined blonde kylian whilst writing this

Kylian startles me, as he comes from behind me and wraps his toned arms around my waist. His chin resting on my shoulder, I let out a long exhalation of relief, feeling a wave of serenity among the bustling Parisian lights. I glanced up, staring deeply into the blinking lights that illuminated the city, and then looked back to Kylian, attaching my lips onto his. Today marked our six month anniversary, and Ky decided to bring us back home to celebrate. Paris always had a special fondness in my heart, as it is where I spent the first seven years of my life, where most of my family resided and where I met Kylian. Although our night had to be cut short due to Kylian’s match at Parc des Princes tomorrow, we both made sure to relish each other’s presence to the fullest.

It was rare we had each other to ourselves like this, due to our demanding and famed lifestyles. If I was free, Kylian had training and if he was free, I had a photoshoot. As if this wasn't enough of a hassle of its own, the added factor of secrecy makes things completely infeasible. Disguises, secret locations and body guards were just some of the thousands of precautions taken to ensure our privacy. So far, it worked, as Kylian was being linked to essentially every Woman in Paris except me. No one had the reason to relate the two of us, as to some, I lived in a completely different universe to Kylian Mbappe. And it was all worth it, as despite everything else about us being in the forefront of the public eye, we finally had something that was utterly and wholly ours. Just ours, and only ever ours.

“Je ne me lasserai jamais de ce vue.” (I will never get tired of this view.) I mention, entirely enthralled by the glimmering tower in front of me.

“Moi aussi.” (Me too.) Kylian responds quickly, and I whip my head back to find his stare unreservedly fixated on me instead of the tower. I smile softly, and drop my eyes to the floor attempting to conceal my bashful state. He can obviously see me try to hide my face, as he erupts into a fit of shameless laughter. This only makes me even more coy, as I physically cover myself with my hands to avoid eye contact. I rest my head on his chest, which reverbates as he continues to laugh at my timidity, as he begins to cradle it and kiss my head. His forwardness has always made me feel shy, which was one of things I liked about him.

“Let me take a picture of you.” He asks, staring directly into my dilated irises. I nod as he takes a couple with me doing funny pictures in front of the tower, some idyllic selfies of the two of us and some with my back turned, facing the view. I decided to choose one to upload to my story, appreciative of the views ahead of me.

Game day. I made my way towards the stadium, riddled with nerves. As I sit patiently, my phone lights up seeing Ky’s name appear. I furrow my eyebrows in confusion, since at a time so close to the game, he would never go on his phone, it was apart of his pre game ritual. I answer hesitantly.

“Y/N,” Mbappe says, and my worry quadruples in size.

“Yes?” I answer, and he lets out a sigh. “Ky, what’s up?”

“Have you checked your phone recently? Or seen your twitter?”

“No? Why? Do I need to?”

“Check your messages.”

Suddenly, I get a notification from Kylian, viewing the attachment he sent me. I gasp.

I go silent, and Kylian understands my thoughts, as he begins calling out my name. That was me and him, on the front cover, kissing, for everyone to see. How did we not know? How could we be so thoughtless?

I tune in to our conversation and listen to what Kylian has to say.

“Listen, there’s good news and bad news.”

“Je pense que la mauvaise nouvelle est très évidente, what’s the good news? (I think that the bad news is very obvious,)

“Your face is not seen in the article, that’s good, right?” He says, attempting to lighten the tone. I giggle at his ridiculous positivity.

“It says undetected not unknown, I already know they are just waiting for the perfect time to say my name.”

“Speaking of that, there’s one more piece of bad news. Check your twitter.”

I sigh, and my Twitter is on the verge of crashing down with the amount of notifications I have. I go to the trending page and view my name in capitals.

“Kylian…”

I tap on the hashtag and see tons of threads and tweets labelled:

A TIMELINE OF Y/N Y/L/N & KYLIAN MBAPPE’S RELATIONSHIP

THE FRENCH IT COUPLE: Y/N AND MBAPPE

Y/N & MBAPPE??? UNDER THE EIFFEL TOWER,, KISSING???

Y/N IS THE GIRL IN THE PHOTO AND HERE’S WHY…

“Oh God.” I blurt out, realising just how bad this situation is.

“Yeah… essayez de ne pas trop vous en soucier, d’accord?” (try not to worry about it too much, okay?) Kylian says with his voice soft and gentle, trying to console me. I realise his game is getting closer, and he needs to focus, not calling me.

“You too. I’ll still be rooting for you in the stands. I love you.” I affirm, not allowing any trivial tabloids, trending hashtags or headlines get into my head.

“Je t’aime plus. (I love you more.) See you later, Ma vie.” (My life.)

Eventually, I reached Parc des Princes. This was the first time I would be going to one of his matches, due to our privacy precautions and coincidentally it was also the first time I went out as ‘Mbappe’s girlfriend.’ Great. We planned out this for months, ensuring that I could still have a good view, whilst still being hidden from the public eye, and now that all went to waste. As soon as I stepped out of the Uber, I heard haunting shutters and clicks of cameras, something which still irked me after all the experience. Mbappe made sure to increase the security, even before this whole situation, so I wouldn’t be bothered by anyone. Three different guards surrounded me, and escorted me to the seats, which, initially I thought was excessive, however now, I’m more grateful than ever. After navigating endless hallways and shortcuts, I finally sat down in my seat. I scan the pitch to find him, and I immediately see him, more unfazed than ever. Seeing him like that makes me feel more confident in turn, so I straighten up my posture, cross my legs, fix my hair and breathe. The whistle blows, and I just pray this match goes well.

Within minutes of the whistle sounding, Kylian is smoothly assisted the ball from Hakimi, before a defender from the other team viciously slide tackles into Mbappe’s ankles. He drops brutally. The crowd roars in anger and the referee whistle is sounded. I jump up instinctually, genuinely stressing. To everyone’s surprise, Mbappe limps up and begins to confront the heated defender. They argue aggressively, foreheads pounding, vicious shouts and boyish shoves and grunts consuming the screen. Just as the teammates from the respective teams begin to diffuse the situation, seemingly reaching a state of stillness, the defender utters something, which was completely unintelligible on the screens, but was clear enough to make Kylian charge towards him again.

Kylian releases himself from his frenzied team mates grasp and dashes towards him. Still provoking him with his comments, Kylian shoves the player with his utmost force and in turn, he drops to the ground immediately, rolling around to finish off the performance. I could tell Ky was extremely, extremely irritated by him, and was on the brink of losing control. The melodramatic player stops rolling around and gets back up, muttering more comments towards him. Kylian finally reaches his edge, as he shoves the player with intense acceleration. The crowd jumped in shock, the game turning into utter chaos as both teams failed to diffuse the situation miserably. The referee swiftly puts a red card above his head, something that Kylian was practically waiting for. He knew what he did was stupid. Before he left, I could make out the words ‘Parlez encore d'elle’, ‘Redis son nom’ and ‘Voir ce qui se passe’.

I could tell he was still angry as he left the pitch, as he ignored consoles from his manager and teammates and headed straight out towards the tunnel leading them back to the changing rooms. Suddenly, I make the executive decision to go, picking up my feet and explaining to bumptious guards that I am perfectly capable of going to the bathroom by myself.

Reaching the hallways, I hear the thump and strikes of objects being hurled around the room laced with a string of unrefined french swears. I breathed out Kylian’s name, before following the sounds as it became increasingly louder. I perceive erratic breathing and I become alarmingly worried at his state. Placing my fingers upon the door, I push outwards revealing the catastrophic conditions of the changing room. I see him, sitting on the floor against a disfigured locker door. His head hung back, facing the ceiling and his eyes pinched shut, as if he was trying to erase something from his mind. I murmur his name from under my breath, and he looks up at me, prolonging unfeigned eye contact. I begin to make my way towards him, before Kylian jumps up and moves back from me. I frown, puzzled but nonetheless I remain immobile maintaining a gut wrenching distance.

“Ky, qu'est-ce qui ne va pas?”(What’s wrong?) I ask gently, tilting my head and giving him further inspection. I glance down to his knuckles, bruised and red. “Qu'est-ce qui s'est passé là-bas?” (What happened down there?) My voice slowly started to become less and less unfaltering as it grew with concern.

He shakes his head and compresses his lips together, his hands placed firmly on his hips. He starts pacing around the room, opening up and closing his mouth in an attempt to formulate a sentence. Seeing him this anxiety-ridden makes my heart pound with sympathy, so in a couple strides, I come towards Kylian and grab his attention. I cup his face, staring into his dilated irises. I see flicks of hesitation scan his face, before I begin to calm him down.

“I love you. You can trust me.” I reassure him, as his broad shoulders slowly become less uptight.

“I know I can. C'est moi, en qui je n'ai pas confiance..” (It's me, who I don't trust.) He mutters shamefully, expressing the extent of his anger.

“Well I do. I trust you completely.”

Kylian heaves, before his attentive glare left mine and watched the walls. “He- They know about you. He was talking about you on the pitch. The whole team.” I sigh, before softly dropping my hands from his face. He notices this, as he grabs my hands to hold them before they fall against my sides.

“What did they say?”

His head hangs low, and his gaze meets the floor. I look up at him searching for the eye contact I desire, but his eyes remain glued to the ground. “Ky-” I’m cut off as he looks back at me.

“First they said you were pretty. They kept saying your name, congratulating me for getting someone as sexy as you. Afterwards, they began to threaten me about how I need to get up from the ground so I won’t embarrass you. Then one of them started to talk about how they can treat you better. That they can fuck you better than me. When I pushed him down, his teammates started to say the same thing, saying your name, imitating you, moaning. It was disgusting and I’m sorry that you-”

I connect my lips onto his, overwhelmed. It felt like the only correct answer at the moment, as Kylian’s temper was rising by the minute. His resentment translated into ardent concupiscence, as his hands shifted against my body frantically. His hands in my hair, and my arms linked around his shoulders. I hoped my appreciation for him was communicated. A million thoughts condensed into one single moment.

I slowly detach my lips from him, as our foreheads touch. Trying to regain my breathing, I still see Ky’s eyes closed and his lips pressed together. Eventually, his eyes flutter open and I begin to laugh at his state. Face flushed, red lipstick staining his lips it was truly a heavenly sight. As our laughs reverberated against the changing room, he grabbed my waist and pressed it towards him in a snug embrace. After a few beats of silence, I place my chin on his chest to look up, “Is it bad to say I like it when you’re jealous?” He looks down and furrows his eyebrows. His dimple pops up as he talks, “I wasn’t jealous.” I laugh at his denial, because clearly his actions presented differently.

“So getting a four match ban isn’t a result of your jealousy?” I remark snarkily as Kylian pouts, slightly saddened by my words. I laugh quietly to myself, before I apologise profusely and kiss the tip of his nose.

He continues to plead his case saying “Je ne suis pas jaloux, je suis territorial. (I am not jealous, I am territorial.) Jealousy is when you want something that’s not yours, and I was just protecting what’s already mine.”

674 notes · View notes

russellius · 1 year

Text

THE TIMES: The Formula One driver and his father, Steve, on failed driving tests and sleeping in horseboxes

George

My earliest memories are of living in a mobile home while my parents built a house in a field in the middle of nowhere, near Wisbech in Cambridgeshire. I rode a pedal tractor around the site, hurtling through corners and reversing with a trailer.

At 25 I am the youngest of three. Cara is 37 and works as my personal assistant. Benjy is 36 and caught the karting bug when he was just 11. He was a brilliant driver, becoming a national and world karting champion. Unfortunately, even starting at such a young age, it was already too late for him to have a professional career. I took up karting when I was six and he helped me a lot. Benjy was like a mentor. He eventually gave up racing at university, so Dad’s focus was on me.

I didn’t see much of Dad during the week. He got up early and came home late running a business selling seeds and pulses. As a kid you miss having your father around, but it’s only now that I appreciate he was doing it so I could race at the weekend. Dad didn’t come from a lot and did well to create a successful business. We weren’t poor but we weren’t wealthy like the families of some F1 racing drivers now.

After long hours at work Dad drove us in a camper van to racetracks around the country. It was very much a family affair. Dad was the mechanic, Mum did the cooking and collected data on my driving. When I drove well, there were celebrations and the mood was great but because everyone was so emotionally and financially invested, when I suffered a poor weekend the mood was bad.

Dad has always been hard on the ones he loves. As a young kid, that was difficult to deal with. The pressure didn’t just filter down to me, it affected the whole family. I felt the weight of failure and expectation. If I made a silly mistake and spun off the track, I can now understand why Dad might have thought, “What the hell am I doing this for?” He had to work his arse off to support my racing, so if I didn’t put in enough effort, it must have been hard.

I now live in the world of F1, where tens of millions of pounds are spoken about like peanuts. Even in Formula Two or Three, every driver has to find huge amounts of money to get on the grid — it’s just crazy. When I was 16 and moving up through the ranks, I realised Dad didn’t have that sort of capital. I thought, “Oh shit, if I can’t find that sort of sponsorship or get picked by a team, my F1 dream is gone.”

Winning the F2 championship in 2018 was a big moment but I’ll never forget the day I signed for Williams F1 in September 2018. I was racing in F2 in Sochi, Russia, when Claire Williams, the deputy team principal at the time, called me in and offered a deal. Mum and Dad were the first people I told and they both cried. I told them to save their tears for when I won a race.

I joined Mercedes for the 2022 season, alongside Lewis Hamilton. It was a huge opportunity for me to learn and grow in F1, as well as show what I’m capable of. It was not an easy season for Mercedes but I feel very fortunate to be in this position, plus Lewis is such an incredible bloke on and off the track. He is so experienced, whereas I’m a 25-year-old who is just totally focused on trying to be the best F1 driver I can be. I’m pretty inspired by what he has achieved.

Dad is a strong character but he has become more emotional since his children have left home. He’s also friendlier now and doesn’t mind making a fool of himself from time to time. My only regret is that F1 doesn’t leave much free space to see each other but we do speak on the phone all the time.

Of course he still watches the pennies and will only fly economy — he won’t let me pay for their flights either. I know my parents can afford to fly business but it’s the principle for them. I want to make sure I reach a position with my racing where I can afford to give them the best in their retirement. They totally deserve it.

Steve

The F1 guys are OK on the racetrack but they are never as good as their dads on normal roads. George is always telling me to slow down as we approach a junction, though his mum thinks it’s fantastic when he takes her out and drives quickly.

There was just one occasion when George didn’t put the full effort in and it caused quite a commotion. He failed his first driving test at 17 because he thought that being a great driver on the track was good enough. He came home fuming that the examiner was wrong. We had to go back to the test centre in King’s Lynn so George could confront him. That didn’t go down well.

George was a cheeky little boy, a bit of a comedian. I worked a lot but it’s strange that I can only remember the racing side of his life, not watching him grow up at home. We enjoyed a nice life but had to work hard for it. I came from a family of farm workers with very little money and wanted to get away from agriculture and better myself but I ended up owning a wholesale seed business.

My wife, Alison, and I knew George was going to be a racing driver at the age of two. He was born on the track, coming to races to watch his brother and help out in the garage. He had a toy tractor that he rode around the pit lane and collected stickers from each race to stick on his “George Russell Racing” tractor.

As George progressed through the racing ranks it became more and more expensive. We invested in a motorhome to travel to races — before that I would sometimes sleep in a freezing horsebox. There were sacrifices. Alison and I didn’t go on our first holiday together until two years ago, on a trip to Lanzarote. By then we had been together for 38 years. People think that now George is in F1 we hang out with Lewis Hamilton and Toto Wolff, the Mercedes principal, every weekend in the sunshine, but it couldn’t be further from the truth. Now Alison and I rarely go to races because we don’t want to interfere.

It was hard letting George fly the nest because we had been a close family, always doing our racing together. He is methodical and organised but his feet are firmly on the ground. There are plenty of people in the family to put him straight if needed.

There’s no magic wand to become an F1 driver — it takes hard work and dedication. It was only when I stood on the track with George before his first grand prix that I looked up at the enormous crowd and thought, “Oh my God, we’ve actually got here.”

#george russell #f1 #*m #q #23 #(oh brother)#:)#ch

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shyvioletcat · 8 months

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ROWAELIN MONTH: DAY 10

~ Co-host/Guest Star with Chemistry ~

You might remember this fic from last year. Well, I had plans to make it a one off thing but then I couldn't help it and I got another idea. And I just want to say thank you to everyone who read the first part and loved it. It's so fun when you guys love something as much as I do. Without further delay, please enjoy Part 2 who we really and truly have to thank Rowaelin month and @rowaelinscourt for.

~~~~~

All Aelin could do was stare at her own reflection in the mirror of her dressing room vanity. She didn’t have long before she had to leave her sanctuary and face a crowd of strangers like her entire world hadn’t been rocked at its foundations. Acting was a talent she’d taken to at a very young age, the tales of her dramatics often told around the dinner table. Aelin would be fine, she’d put on one of her charismatic smiles and give her audience her all, and everything would be fine. But for now, it was only her stunned expression to keep her company.

That was how Rowan found her however long later, silent and still as her mind was whirring with thoughts of the future. Aelin had lost track of the minutes spent doing absolutely nothing, and as Rowan appeared in the mirror she startled, a hand flying to her chest as if to stop her heart from flying out of her chest.

“Holy gods, you scared me,” she breathed as Rowan removed his cap and kissed her on the cheek.

“I’m sorry, love,” Rowan murmured onto her skin as he kissed her again. When he noticed she still hadn’t moved, not in the slightest, to look at him or seek out another kiss his voice changed from teasing to concern. “Are you all right?”

Aelin finally found the compulsion to move, swivelling in her makeup chair to face Rowan. It was always infinitely more pleasant when he could come to the studio without the threat of being in front of the camera. Not as exciting for her, but she was still happy to see him. When he came to visit her here Rowan had to sneak in and from the sheer amount of times he’d done he’d developed quite the skill for it. The tricky part was not drawing attention, and with years of practice he had the art of blending in down to a fine art.

The key was appearing so much unlike his professional self that it would take more than a double take to place why he looked so familiar. So today with his scruffy hat hair, hoodie and stubble covered cheeks, he was a far cry from the suave and composed image he gave the camera.

Since Rowan’s last public performance here he’d been promoting his new album and gone on tour. Over the past eight months Aelin had hardly seen him except via a phone screen. The last time they had managed to see each other in person was when he had shows in Suria and snuck away when he should have been sleeping in to come see her. That was about six weeks ago.

“We have a situation,” Aelin had said, looking up at him and jerking her head towards the vanity. “And I think we have this room and that couch to blame.”

Rowan’s brows furrowed then looked to where she had directed. His eyes went wide and he did a few double takes before his gaze finally settled on her. There was an open question in his eyes and Aelin just nodded. Then he let out a shaky laugh as he realised fully what this all meant, a hand rubbing his stubbled chin.

“Well, I guess this changes things,” Rowan finally said.

“Indeed it does,” Aelin confirmed. “We need a plan, and I think I have one.”

THREE AND A HALF MONTHS LATER…

Aelin always got butterflies waiting behind the curtain for the final call of action. The crowd was still humming with chatter and she could hear the last camera checks over her in-ear monitor. This time the butterflies were worse, enough to make her nauseous. Today’s show would be one to be remembered and it had taken a good amount of deceit and scheming to get here.

“Alright, Aelin,” a voice said into her ear. “Curtains open in five, four, three…”

Aelin took in a deep breath, the last two counts sounding in her head. Two, One.

The applause started and then the curtains opened, Aelin taking the ten steps forward to get to her mark. She smiled and waved while she made eye contact with a few people seated in the audience. There were cheers and whistles, and when it went on a little too long Aelin held up her hands to start quieting them down as the prompt screen undoubtedly displayed QUIET PLEASE. Once the audience had settled Aelin began her welcoming monologue.

“Thank you so much,” she said, her smile stretching wide, and there were cheers again. “Now, now, as much as I would love to stand here and lap up every bit of your admiration, I don't get paid for that.” There was a healthy amount of laughter. “I get paid to put on a show and what a show do we have planned for today. They’re always special, what am I talking about? It reminds of something my father used to say, slightly inappropriate but I think—”

The strum of a guitar interrupted her and Aelin made sure she looked affronted even though she knew exactly what was going on. When the the chord turned into music she sent a confused look to the audience a millisecond before they broke out in raucous cheers. Aelin whirled around to see Rowan strutting out, centrestage from where she had been standing moments before with the smallest of smug smiles on his face. He was looking down at his guitar and Aelin put her hands on her hips to show her displeasure. Rowan had the gall to wink at her. If he wasn’t careful he’d give the whole gig away.

Even though it wasn’t his job, it was Fenrys who darted out from the wings and dropped a mic and stand in front of Rowan, and then he was gone again. It became a stand off, Rowan playing while he challenged her with a look that told her to get off his stage, even though it was her stage.

He had to win for the whole ploy to work, so Aelin gave an overexaggerated and exasperated sigh, her hands falling to her sides as half turned to the audience as she said, “I guess I know when I’m not needed.”

It was hard, but Aelin withheld her own smile as she gave Rowan the limelight. He hadn’t stopped playing, the chords effortlessly coming from the instrument and he never missed a beat. Aelin found a spot by the foot of the low steps near her interview platform, right beside Fenrys who had decided not to head out of sight. He nudged her with his elbow and winked. Aelin tried not to look too pleased with herself.

The tempo picked up and Rowan readied himself in front of the microphone. Aelin’s breath caught in her chest, it always did in the anticipation of the song beginning. It always happened when Rowan was about to sing. He closed his eyes, grounding himself to the melody and then his deep voice filled the studio.

I found a love, for me

Darling, just dive right in and follow my lead

Well, I found a girl, beautiful and sweet

“Sweet?” Fenrys muttered under his breath.

Aelin tried very hard not to snort and ruin Rowan’s performance. “Artistic licence. Now hush”

'Cause we were just kids when we fell in love

Not knowing what it was.

They might not have been kids but they were young and stupid enough to mistake their mutual animosity for other feelings that were way at the other end of the spectrum. When they had admitted to their true feelings it was like Aelin’s entire world had fallen into place. Rowan was everything she wanted and she had just been too willfully ignorant to see. Thank the gods they had come to their senses. Eventually.

I will not give you up this time

But darling, just kiss me slow

Your heart is all I own

And in your eyes, you're holding mine

Baby, I'm dancing in the dark

With you between my arms

Barefoot on the grass

Listening to our favourite song

When you said you looked a mess

I whispered underneath my breath

But you heard it

Darling, you look perfect tonight

Aelin remembered that night, Rowan had surprised her after she’d been deep cleaning her house all day. It was the first time that Rowan had seen her so dishevelled. Her cheeks had burned, he didn’t notice, just sweeping into her kitchen to make dinner. They had sat outside, eating on a blanket, and after Rowan had pulled her to her feet to dance under the night’s sky, the cooling grass beneath their feet.

The backing curtain rose, revealing a small band to accompany Rowan and his guitar playing. The music swelled to new heights and Aelin was reminded of just how much she loved this song.

Well, I found a woman, stronger than anyone I know

She shares my dreams, I hope that someday I'll share her home

I found a lover, to carry more than just my secrets

To carry love, to carry children of our own

Unconsciously Aelin’s hand drifted to her stomach. It was an unconscious gesture, but how could she not when he was singing about that.

We are still kids, but we're so in love

Fighting against all odds

I know we'll be alright this time

Darling, just hold my hand

Be my girl, I'll be your man

I see my future in your eyes

Baby, I'm dancing in the dark

With you between my arms

Barefoot on the grass

Listening to our favourite song

When I saw you in that dress, looking so beautiful

I don't deserve this

Darling, you look perfect tonight

When the instrumental bridge began Rowan stopped playing, letting the backing band have their moment. Confused, Aelin sent him a questioning look with a raised eyebrow. He just pulled his guitar over his head, walked over and handed it over to Fenrys. Before Aelin could even ask aloud about whatever was going on right now Rowan had taken her hand and spun her into a dance. Fenrys’ laugh was audible and she knew they must have looked quite the sight. It was hard not to melt into his embrace, which came to her so naturally in this moment. They were still on camera, and they had images to maintain. Her the larger than life social star, he the cold and callous musician, although with this break in character Rowan’s was very quickly unravelling. Aelin knew this song by heart, he’d played it for her enough, so she knew when he had danced too long for that standard interlude, but the band covered him.

He did dance her back over to her spot by the stage before it was too obvious that he was stalling and took his guitar back. Rowan was effortlessly able to join back in, his voice impassioned as he started the final rendition of the chorus.

Baby, I'm dancing in the dark

With you between my arms

Barefoot on the grass

Listening to our favourite song

I have faith in what I see

Now I know I have met an angel in person

And she looks perfect

I don't deserve this

By the gods he did. With everything that he had been through and what he had given to Aelin without question, he deserved every bit of happiness they had together. As her thoughts ran off the music slowed, Rowan closing out the song, strumming the last few chords himself and ending it on a truly acoustic note.

You look perfect tonight

The applause was deafening, and Aelin joined in. Like he always did, Rowan went a little shy when accepting the adoration being rained down on him. His cheeks went a delectable shade of pink and he nodded at the crowd who just kept clapping. Aelin gave Fenrys a jab in the arm to get him moving off camera and out of the way. Knowing the camera was now on her, Aelin put on her signature teasing smirk, clapping as Rowan approached. Gods damn him, but he held out his hand like the gentleman to help her up the miniscule steps. His back was to the camera, convenient as he scowled at the towering heels she’d chosen to wear today. He would say they were a safety concern, Aelin was adamant they made her outfit.

They sat in the arms chairs, sinking into the plush cushions. Their eyes were on each other while they waited for the commotion to die down enough for the interview to start. Rowan must have made quite the impression because it took the QUIET PLEASE flashing longer than usual for the audience to follow the instruction. When they finally did Aelin grinned.

“How dare you interrupt my monologue,” she said.

Rowan had assumed his cool and aloof demeanour, and he just shrugged. “That song was more heartfelt than any spiel you were about to give.”

Aelin gasped. “Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed.”

In fact, she’d woken him up with soft kisses that had led to more, and he’d left bed in the best mood possible.

“Now that song,” Aelin said, drawing out each word. “It’s a love song, and from those beautifully written, heartfelt words, it feels like it might have been written about someone special.”

“If you have a question, Aelin, just ask it,” Rowan challenged.

She lent forward, the thrill of the game exciting her. “I have many questions. First, what can you tell me about this,” Aelin waved her hand flippantly over her shoulder, where she knew a photo from Rowan’s Instagram was being shown. “I showed this post a few months ago and I can tell you there were more than a few broken hearts in this studio.”

A murmur of agreement rippled through the audience. Aelin shot a glance at the picture, admiring the large emerald set in a gold band. Rowan couldn’t have done better in picking the perfect engagement ring for her, Aelin had hated that she hadn’t been able to wear it and to show it off. The only public admittance of their relationship was this photo and because it only showed Aelin’s hand she had remained anonymous. There was just the widespread devastation that Rowan Whitethorn was officially off the market, the media sent into a tizzy because no one knew who his mystery woman was. It cost them both an exorbitant amount in NDAs but somehow they had managed to keep it all out of the public eye.

“My favourite comment is this one: WTF But you and Aelin! I shipped the two of you so hard. You’ve broken my heart,” Aelin read. “How could you break their heart like that, Rowan? Have you no compassion?”

“I don’t know how people can see the way we interact and imagine us together,” Rowan said.

“Shipping is the word you’re looking for,” Aelin explained. “You may be too old to be down with the lingo, unfortunately.”

Rowan scoffed, selling his arrogance. “I could say the same about you, I doubt kids today know what the word lingo means.”

“At least I’m not as old as you,” Aelin threw in a little bite to her words to make her anger believable. “I have that going for me amongst all my other admirable and desirable qualities.”

“If you say so.” She saw Rowan fighting his smile but he kept his composure in the end. “You just like anything that draws attention to you. Never mind how ridiculous and unfounded that attention might be.”

“I see falling in love hasn’t done any favours to you manners,” Aelin teased.

“Maybe it’s just you, Aelin. You seem to make it your mission to make me as nasty as I can be." Rowan sounded both impatient and offended, a practised tone for him.

“What can I say, I love to ruffle your feathers. And It’s not my fault they’re so easily ruffled,” Aelin countered. “But I should at least offer my congratulations. An engagement is one thing but I’m more interested in what comes after.”

A video played on the large screen behind the two of them, the song Rowan had just sung playing again in lower quality with just him and his guitar. Aelin watched the grainy video footage, seeing him dressed in dark pants with the buttons of is white shirt rolled to his elbows, the rest of his features were blurred by the terrible quality of the camera work. His stand out feature was his voice as he sang to an unknown figure. The heads of the guests obscured the view of who that was, the only thing that was seen of her was her hands dancing above her head for a few moments. Fenrys had done a wonderful job purposefully terrible camera work.

There were some murmurs from the audience as they put together the other pieces of information the video showed them. It was more than clear what this delightful snippet was from, but Aelin began the dance anyway.

“That looks like you’re at a wedding,” she said.

“My own, in fact,” Rowan confirmed. There were a few cheers at that, the news wasn’t new. It had been hard won but they had managed to fully control what information had gone out about the special event. “You should know, you were there.”

This time there were a few surprised gasps and muttering of what. The animosity between Aelin and Rowan was notorious, and although some tabloids tried to put a flirtatious spin on it it never seemed to stick. Their feuding held more entertainment and money.

“I wasn’t invited directly, I came as a plus one for a very important guest.” Aelin lent back in her chair, consciously keeping her hands on the arms of it. “It was a magical affair and a wonderful night. I must say though, I think you could have done better. You’re worth millions after all.”

Rowan’s eyebrows rose with indignant surprise. “Care to elaborate?”

“Well, the venue for starters,” Aelin said. “It felt like a prison inside, all those high walls and artificial lighting. Why were we punished for your success?”

“I’m a private man, as you well know. There’s certain things I can’t compromise on to maintain it.”

“And the colour scheme,” she made a disgusted sound. “So basic. Green and gold? Sounds like the colour scheme for a sports team.”

There was a chuckle from Rowan at that. “I didn’t know you paid attention to such things.”

“You’d be surprised at what I pay attention to,” Aelin said with a flirtatious wink. “That dress. Stunning. Couldn’t have chosen a more stunning piece of art.”

“At least you have one positive thing to say,” even though he sounded completely unimpressed. “She was stunning as ever, even though wedding planning did make her kind of a diva.”

Aelin lent a hand on her chin, a smile quirking up the side of her mouth even though she wanted to insist the contrary. “Pity about that, though I’d say your temperaments match. Or more likely she realised it was your sorry ass that she was marrying and didn’t want you to face the embarrassment of being left at the altar. I think you should thank her for that kindness.”

“Anything else that didn’t meet your expectations, your Highness?” Rowan made sure to add an edge of mocking to his voice, but Aelin could see the mirth dancing in his eyes.

Aelin tapped her chin, sending a conspiring look to the audience as they sat on the edge of their seats waiting for her next biting quip. “The wine, I would have chosen better.” That held some truth, because Aelin hadn't exactly participated in the trying before buying.

“You didn’t even drink any,” Rowan said, almost ruining everything by laughing. They would need to wrap this up quickly before he gave them away completely. This man couldn’t keep a secret to save his life.

“That,” she drew the word out as a warning, “was because I heard it was so terrible I didn’t even bother with it. Now let’s get back to your lovely little song.”

“If you’d like,” Rowan added callously.

In return Aelin sent him a wry smile. “I understand it was for your wife. A serenade for her on your wedding day.”

Rowan just nodded. There was a call of but who is she from the audience. Host and guest both pointedly ignored it.

“The lyrics are beautiful, and obviously come from the heart. She must be a very lucky woman to have your devotion.” Then Aelin turned towards the audience. “Who knew Rowan Whitethorn could be such a softy, even his vows had me in tears.”

There was no word of a lie there. As Rowan had declared his love to her, and promised to honour and care for them as long as he lived, Aelin couldn’t keep back the tears. Her father had to pass her his pocket square so she could dab the tears away without ruining her makeup.

“Over all, it was quite the party,” Aelin said.

Rowan snuck her a secret smile. “It was.”

“I’d say the party really started once the bride and groom left,” Aelin mused.

“Did it just?” Rowan said in that dry way of his.

“Mhmm,” she hummed, trying not to remember too vividly how they had gone back to their room and really celebrated lest she blush on camera. “Your presence has that kind of impact.”

Rowan had to look down to hide most of his smile as he shook his head at her antics. It really was time to wrap it up before he lost all restraint and just blurted everything out because Aelin teased too hard and he bit too quickly.

“Where is your shiny new wedding ring anyway? It just about blinded me at the reception,” Aelin said.

This was the predetermined phrase that would uncover them at last. For nearly two years Aelin and Rowan had managed to keep their relationship private and out of the public eye. They were about to undo all their hard work, but it was about time and most definitely worth it. Bringing their relationship to light would save them from all the speculation and rumours that continuously surrounded them. Not completely, there would always be gossip of cheating and the like, but it would be nice not to hide anymore.

Rowan shifted so that he could reach into his back pocket and then showed off his ring, holding it between his thumb and forefinger. “I took it off to play, didn’t want it getting in the way.”

Even though they had no idea what they were anticipating, the audience seemed to be holding their breath, waiting for something to happen. Rowan slipped his ring onto his finger then looked right at Aelin.

“I’ve got yours, too,” Rowan said, this time reaching into the pocket over his heart. There was tittering from the audience, Aelin struggled to keep her face neutral. “I found them on the bathroom counter, I thought you might want them.”

The was a singular, very high pitched WHAT from someone in the audience. Rowan held out his hand to her, palm up with the emerald on full display.

Biting her bottom lip to stop her grin was futile and Aelin only had eyes for Rowan as she said, “Thank you, but I’d left them there on purpose.”

Rowan was grinning too, his eyes darting down to her stomach. “Why?”

“Well, I couldn’t get them on,” Aelin said casually, risking a glance at her audience who looked like they were ready to explode. “My fingers were too swollen. Tends to happen when you’re pregnant.”

Absolutely pandemonium broke out. Aelin stood, watching as the audience collectively lost their mind and smoothed her hands over her dress, showing off the small bump she had hidden beneath. Everyone was on their feet, cheering and clapping, there were whistles and a few screams. She smiled, caressing her bump affectionately again. It had been difficult but they had managed to keep the pregnancy out of public knowledge. A few of the tabloids had run stories about her looking pregnant but when nothing came of it, they just gave up. Aelin had faced pregnancy allegations every other week for years, this time it wasn’t a lie. She was just too good at keeping secrets. A baby had been a surprise, to say the least, but not at all an unwelcome one. The wardrobe department had a hard time dressing her lately in an attempt to hide the pregnancy and to keep her comfortable. Even more NDAs were handed out over it.

And then Rowan stood too, off script. He swept an arm around her waist and she went willingly into his embrace. Rowan tucked her hair behind her ear and gave her a sweet smile, the kind that was just for her, his eye crinkling in the corner. When he kissed her Aelin let him, returning it fervently. It was probably too amorous for day time television but Aelin couldn’t find it in herself to care—not when Rowan whispered I love you and looked at her like that.

Once the chaos died down Rowan had been sent off and Aelin had to focus on her real job, Getting through the rest of the show had been a feat. As soon as Rowan had left the stage Aelin pretended like nothing had happened. The next segment had been promoting various popular books, followed by video chatting a school telling them her studio was providing them with iPads. All in all, it was a fantastic show, but now that it was over she was free to return to her dressing room.

Rowan was waiting for her, arm draped over the back of the couch and looking far too good. Aelin tried not to slam the door but her excitement got the better of her. Kicking off her heels she wasted no more time before climbing into Rowan’s lap, grabbing his face with both hands and kissing him. His hands went to her waist, his thumbs brushing over her sides.

When they finally broke apart Rowan said, “You could have let up a little.”

“I’m still mad about it being a shotgun wedding,” Aelin pulled back and narrowed her eyes at him. “I don’t know if it was the hormones or purely the lyrics but I had to blink back the tears.”

“How is that my fault? You’ve heard that song a hundred times.” Rowan was giving her a look that only insisted that part was not his fault.

Aelin ignored it completely. “And you almost gave it away so many times, like when you told the world I wasn’t drinking.”

Rowan's deep chuckle rumbled through his chest and he urged her closer. “We were heading in a wedding direction anyway. We just needed a little bit of a push. You can’t blame me for getting a little excited over telling everyone.”

His hand rested over her stomach, right over the tiny thing that had given them much more than a little push. Finding out that they were pregnant had accelerated all the plans they had for their future. They didn’t see the point in waiting to get engaged or prolonging the time between that and a wedding. They had chosen each other, and like their vows had said, they were in this together until whatever end. Still, the joke of the shotgun wedding was too funny to let go of, and there had also been the fact she hadn’t been able to wear her engagement ring outside the house. It was beautiful and deserved to be shown off.

The feeling of Rowan’s lips making their way up her neck drew her back to the present. “I worked it out.”

“Worked what out?” Rowan asked but wasn’t deterred by her shift in topic and kissed her jaw.

“That we most likely conceived on this very couch,” Aelin explained. “You were busy with your tour and I checked the dates and you were only in town for those few days.”

Rowan stopped kissing her to laugh. “Is this a lucky couch then?”

“Hmm, I dunno,” Aelin said, her hand slipping into his hair tugging it just the way he liked. “I certainly like to get lucky on it.”

Rowan groaned, leaning in so that scrape his teeth over the sensitive skin of her neck. “Did you lock the door?”

The words were whispered onto her skin and made Aelin shiver. All resolve lost, she melted against Rowan, sighing as his hands wandered over her body. Gods, she needed him, her blood still thrumming from all the excitement of the interview. And she could feel how much Rowan needed her, a teasing roll of her hips only intensifying the situation.

“There’s no need,” Aelin said and Rowan pulled back enough to see his face. “To quote our dear friend Fenrys, after all that foreplay no one would even risk disturbing us right now.”

Rowan’s grin was near feral. “No more wasted time then.”

They both moved, meeting in the middle for a kiss that set every fire within them blazing. The couch it seemed, would prove to be more than useful yet again. And like Aelin had said, lessons had been learned and no one interrupted them… this time.

~~~~~

Hope you like that one! I know I certainly did

#rowelin month #rowaelin month 2023 #dressing room drama

88 notes · View notes

lavender-romancer · 1 year

Text

Deceiver

Part Six

Tommy Shelby x Reader

CW: slow burn, arguing

You've been involved with the Peaky Blinders business for a few years now, undiscovered as a woman posing as a man. Now the Shelby boys have grown suspicious of you and want you found out.

an: set in season one

”*°•.˜”*°•. ˜”*°•. ˜”*°••°*”˜.•°*”˜.•°*”˜.•°*”˜

previous part

It had been two days since you'd been back to the shop, regardless of what happened with Tommy you weren't at all sure where you stood with him or if he even remembered. You were in some sort of semi-depression state, unwilling or unable to look after yourself and it frustrated you. Letting yourself get to this point after how hard you'd worked your whole life, allowing it to fall apart because of your own feelings? It felt unforgivable on your part.

"Eddie?" You heard with a knock on the door, it was Tommy.

"Evening, Tommy." You said as you opened the door and let him in.

"I want your help," Tommy said as he sat down in your front room.

"My help? That's it, that's what you've come for, right." You scoffed.

"Y/n, please. I-I can't right now I need your help because of how we trust each other." Tommy looked up at you as he sat and you stood above him with crossed arms.

"What is it?" You sighed and sat down.

"It's Grace," Tommy paused. "She's been asking Arthur questions about our business and how we store things."

"You mean how you got angry at me for pointing out she'd done something suspicious and now she is again?" You raised your voice.

"There's no point bringing it all up right now alright. I thought she might just be nosey or trying to fuck me but now I'm not sure." Tommy rubbed his face and you sighed.

"Oh yeah, because everyone wants you. Don't they Thomas? That's just a fact with all women." You looked away from him with a far out look in your eyes.

"That's not what I mean and you fucking know that, don't make this into something that it isn't." He shook his head and you grimaced.

"And why should I help you?" You asked.

"Because you're the only one I trust with this." Tommy looked up at you with pleading eyes.

"But that fucking…that woman is in love with you and it just frustrates me that you practically return it without even meaning it." You crossed your arms and sat down on the sofa with a huff after realising you sounded like a pathetic child.

"Oh really?" Tommy asked with a smirk.

"Can't believe you're loving this," you tried to hide your smile but Tommy saw it.

"Oh I'm loving the fact that you hate whenever I give another woman attention." Tommy was running his tongue along his bottom set of teeth with a grin and you rolled your eyes.

"What do you want me to do?" You finally asked with a sigh.

Tommy wanted you to meet Grace at closing time and take her to the local Catholic church to offer her another job, see how she acted in the church and if she was really a Catholic. You had to admit it was a perceptive plan but you didn't know if Grace would take to it.

You'd decided on a white penny collar shirt with an understated but expensive looking gray blazer and waistcoat with a pocket watch. It made you look more like a blinder with the large overcoat and cap, you became the mentality of a member of the peaky blinders. The outfit had just as much to do with how you acted as your fake identity did- it made you feel like you were playing a part. When you walked downstairs Tommy wolfwhistled and you rolled your eyes.

"Alright, so outside the Garrison right? I should get there when she's locked up if I leave now." You sat down adjacent to Tommy on the sofa and he looked you up and down.

"If I'm honest, you look even better as a man than I do." He stood up and sat next to you, placing his hand over yours, both rough with years of fighting.

"Now you're just flirting with me," you looked at him with a raised eyebrow and took off your cap.

"You look more like you now, I know you hate being a secret but you're the only one I can feel this way with. I think you feel the same." Tommy lifted his hand and stroked your cheek with the back.

"What you said…the other night about wanting me. Is that true?" You asked in a quiet voice and Tommy sighed before pulling his hand back.

"I don't know if it's a good decision to discuss this right now." He rubbed his forehead as if he was tired.

"Then what other time? We have to at some point, you told me you would kill for-"

"I know what I said but…I just don't think it's the time," Tommy quickly stood up and you put your head in your hands.

"So now you're leaving because you're scared of a conversation? Where's the fearless Tommy Shelby who would've done anything for me?" You stood up and looked into his eyes.

"He doesn't live in my rational mind. Just fucking meet Grace alright?" He walked past you and slammed the front door on his way out. You let out a big breath and gave yourself five minutes before also leaving, headed towards the Garrison.

It hadn't been a busy night for Grace, just a few regulars. Tuesdays seemed to be the loneliest days for her behind the bar and she wasn't sure why but either way it was the worst day for business. She'd found another shipment of cigarettes eaten by rats and smelling of rot but Arthur didn't seem too bothered. Working against the Shelby's had started to become harder for her, the feelings she had for Thomas were very confusing. It made her constantly regret her decision to be working against the family.

"Where you headed?" A voice scared Grace out of her thoughts as she locked the door and turned around, seeing you.

"Is that your business?" Grace asked as she went to walk past you but you stopped her, holding her arm.

"Tommy's asked me to offer you something, so if you want to know what, you should follow." You thrust your hands in your pocket and brought out your cigarettes and lighter before walking off. You smiled devilishly as you heard Grace following, you wanted to shoot her right there and then.

As you approached the church you almost wished you could hear the voice of God to guide you in some way. But it was just a building with benches and candles to you. You walked in and stood at the back near the pews as you walked down the middle you made notice of the fact that Grace didn't make the sign of the cross as she walked in. You both sat down together on the second row from the front and looked at the altar before you.

"We know you've been cottoning on to things happening within the business. What we also know is that you haven't been scared away yet and we need people like that." You started and Grace looked at you with distaste.

"So why are you here and not Tommy?" She asked with a scowl and you laughed.

"Why didn't you sign the cross as you came in? Like every good Catholic girl would." You returned as quick as anything and she sighed.

"You're just as perceptive, I see." She faced forward.

"Tommy wants you to have an additional job within the company, more of an occasional occupation. He needs someone to look good, and look official at meetings with him. Not someone who looks like a whore." You took off your cap and pushed back your hair.

"And why am I being trusted with this?" Grace asked, puzzled as to how she was organically infiltrating the business.

"That's not for you to worry about, Tommy needs you to go to the races with him, he can tell you more when the time comes," You leant over your knees and closed your eyes "Keep your nose fucking clean or he'll kill you. You should know that."

"Thank you," Grace said quietly "I appreciate the extra work."

"Happy to be of service, now are you going to tell me where you're really from or do I have to reveal that I know you didn't work in that pub in Belfast?" You asked turning your head to face her, she seemed contempt not even afraid.

"So I've been background checked then." Grace smiled.

"You're a liar Grace, not that we care. You don't belong here but you've given us an opportunity to use something that we can't buy…class." You sat back in your chair and looked at her, as she turned her head you realised you were quite close to her face.

"I like to try to fit in." Grace said quietly.

"For whatever reason, you're here. You know that a lot of what we do is illegal but you'd still want to take the job, that's an asset for people like us." You said softly as you looked at her eyes, they were a beautiful sky blue.

"Is that an offer?" She moved closer to you.

"I've been told it is." You muttered before she kissed you and pulled back almost simultaneously.

"I thought so. You kiss like a woman." Grace said near your ear and you chuckled.

"Will you do it?" You asked with a stony look in your eyes, a rage about to erupt.

"Yes," she answered and you stood up. As you walked away she called after you and you turned around,

"Tell Tommy I asked after him." She had a mischievous smile on her face and you nodded before turning on your heel, lighting a cigarette. You wanted to punch her in the face till she couldn't speak.

Why had she kissed you? Just to mess with your psyche or something? And the fucking woman comment- it was messing with your head. She couldn't know anything, you'd covered your tracks so well and you knew none of the Shelby's would give you up. It was a secret that the whole family knew would destroy you.

"How was it?" Tommy asked you the next day in the shop.

"Effective. She accepted. But..."

"What happened?" Tommy raised an eyebrow and you got close to his ear.

"She kissed me and then said I kiss like a woman," you whispered.

"Well that's a lot to unpack," Tommy sat down next to you.

"Yeah, exactly. What the fuck does that mean?" You rubbed your face and let your knees bounce anxiously "What if she knows?"

"There's no way she'd know. None of us would've told her, even when Arthur is drunk he calls you Eddie." Tommy looked over at the chalkboard for a moment.

"She wants to meet you tonight, she told me at the Garrison this morning. So have fun with that barrel of laughs," you rolled your eyes and Tommy scoffed.

"You really are jealous aren't you?" Tommy leant back in his chair.

"Can't believe you're still obsessing over that," you rolled your eyes again.

"And I can't believe your eyes haven't rolled into the back of your head by this point," Tommy pushed your leg with his shoe and you glared at him before smiling.

"You're just a flirt, Thomas." You whispered and he nodded slowly.

"Can you blame me?" He asked.

"All I know is that you love the attention." You stacked some books you'd already checked and stood up with them in your arms.

"You'd miss entertaining me," Tommy added as he tailed behind you.

Later, Tommy had gone to meet Grace and you'd stayed back to organise your desk so it wasn't such a catastrophic bomb site every morning you walked in. Thinking over the last few months you couldn't even begin to understand how you'd got to where you were now.

"You coming for a drink?" John asked as he walked through the shop coat in hand.

"Ooh, I think I can squeeze one in to my busy schedule." You stretched back in your chair and yawned.

"What a tough, tough life you lead," he said sarcastically and you stuck your tongue out.

"Come on then," you stood up and followed John to the Garrison.

Walking in and seeing Grace eyeing up Tommy over the bar made you want to jump over it and tear her hair out but you had to remind yourself that it was pathetic. This ridiculous idea of infighting between the two of you when Tommy had made it clear he wanted you made no sense. You knew the truth of all of it, she could only make assumptions. You followed John into the private room where Arthur and Polly were already sat with a bottle of whisky.

"The tireless workers finally join us!" Arthur announced and you smiled before sitting down opposite him and next to Polly.

"How have you been?" Polly asked with a smile and you nodded.

"Good, ready to have a pint and relax." You sighed.

"Someone's feeling stressed..." John laughed and Arthur joined.

"Can't think of any reason why," Arthur said sarcastically and you raised an eyebrow towards him.

"Oh come on, what is it? What's ap obvious?" You asked looking between both the brothers.

"Oh come on, Y/n," Polly added

"What!" You exclaimed.

"I saw that look on your face when you walked in, it's like you want everyone to know what's in your head." John lit a cigarette.

"Thought you were supposed to be good at keeping secrets?" Arthur smirked.

"Oh fuck off. So you all know?" You asked.

"You and Tommy aren't exactly secretive around us lot." John poured you a whisky and pushed it over.

"Well it doesn't change anything. He's still fucking around with her," you gestured to the door.

"Ooooh, someone's jealous!" Arthur let out a hearty laugh and you narrowed your eyes at him.

"I am not."

"You completely are! I'm a woman, pet. I know that look anywhere." Polly looked at you knowingly and you sat back into your seat with a huff.

"Can I see you tonight?" Grace asked Tommy in hushed tones in the back room of the Garrison.

"Not tonight, I've got plans. Next week I'll come and see you." Tommy looked through his eyelashes at her.

"You're certainly not open with your feelings are you, Tommy Shelby?" Grace smiled sweetly and Tommy couldn't help but return it.

"I can say it's not one of my strong points these days," he paused "But I want to see you again." He touched her arm and could only wish of being intimate with you this way.

"Ditto," Grace whispered before kissing him on the cheek and walking past him back into the bar.

”*°•.˜”*°•. ˜”*°•. ˜”*°••°*”˜.•°*”˜.•°*”˜.•°*”˜

next part

Taglist:

@kathrinemelissa @wolfieellsworld @archivallyfound09 @hopefulinlove @globetrotter28 @just-a-blackhole @sillyfreakfanparty @lovelyreader22 @leaked-adrenaline @ghxst-heart @bat-luna-cat @emily-roberts @thattransgayscout @pockeymcmockey @moonshooter @hiatuswhore @missmunscn @slutforcoffein @lovemisshoneybee-blog

Peaky Blinders Taglist:

@queenofkings1212 @severewobblerlightdragon @cl5369 @fairypitou @stressedandbandobessed7771 @shadow-of-wonder @hipsternoionlylikeunicorns @curled-hair-red-lips @lucystivinsky1315

#peaky blinders #tommy shelby #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby imagines #tommy shelby fluff #tommy shelby fanfic #peaky blinders fic #bbc peaky blinders #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders tommy shelby #peaky blinder headcanon #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinders fiction #peaky blinders fluff

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123pixieaod · 9 months

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Tried to write a fun little fic about why Daniel unfollowed on Instagram Zak, Michael, Fernando, and Nicki, the most random quartet possible, only to end up with this lol

Daniel finally answers a call at just gone 4.30am, Max's time. It's 5.30am, Daniel's time, which admittedly is only marginally better, but maybe the hospital he's in has some crazy Get-Up-And-Seize-The-Day sort of ethos. Although from what Christian has told him, Daniel might not be seizing anything, metaphorically or otherwise, for some time.

"Daniel," Max says as soon as he hears the line clicking through. "How are you? How do you feel? Is your wrist alright? Do the doctors and nurses take care of you, do they speak English, or did Red Bull send a Spanish translator and I hope I have not woken you up and-"

He cuts himself off. There's a sort of stunned silence on the other side of the line. Sometimes, Max thinks his need for Daniel is a bottomless pit, something that has hollowed him out and leaves an ache echoing through him.

"Max?" Daniel says, incredulous. High, drugged up, gone on pain medication. "How did you get into my phone?!"

Max squeezes his eyes shut. His mouth is twisted, making some shape. A smile, a frown? He doesn't know, nobody can see him in his old childhood bedroom.

He wants to be with Daniel. He wants to brush a hand through his curls and run his fingertips along the lines of his faded tattoos like how a child would first begin to trace letters and numbers.

I miss you, he wants to say

I want you

I need you

"I'm not in your phone," he says instead, tone light and soft. "I called you. I am in the Netherlands."

"Oh," Daniel says, as if the fact Max had not been magically transformed into his phone is mildly disappointing. "What are you doing there?"

"We had a race, remember?" Max says. He's stretched out on his old bed. His feet dangle just slightly off the edge, and each year, he's promised a new one, bigger and larger and finally a grown-up bed. But it never materialises and Max has stopped bringing it up now.

The room is unchanged. Around him, the faces of former racing legends watch him, tapped to his wall. Above, stars look down, stuck to his ceiling in haphazard patterns. The day his father got to play God and created universes and cosmos splayed above his head.

"Of course," Daniel huffs good naturedly. "You won, Maxy."

"I know," Max replies softly.

"It was your ninth consecutive win," Daniel continues, his tone strong and proud, as if it's Daniel who has achieved it. Maybe he's so high on meds he thinks it is, that him and Max are some sort of Jeckyl and Hyde being, two sides of the same life. Max doesn't know. A headache is building behind his eyes. He hasn't really slept since Friday, three days previous.

"You're now equalling Sebastian Vettle. If you win the next race, you'll beat the record." Daniel continues before pausing, as if realisation is only just dawning. "I don't think I'll be there."

"No," Max murmurs. "I don't think you will be either."

"My wrist is really fucked," Daniel goes back to his jubilant tone, like a child with the best show and tell in school. "I have a metal plate in it, isn't that neat?"

He laughs. Max closes his eyes, just listening to the sound. "Imagine if it goes off at every airport security, Maxy? How annoying with that be?" He laughs again, the prospect sounding delightful to him in that very moment.

Max hums softly, and then shifts on the bed, turning away from the stars his father hung up for him. Instead, he moves to his side, facing a giant poster of Micheal Schumacher celebrating one of his championships. At the bottom, Max, to great things! MS. He was six. It was one of the best Christmas presents his dad had ever gotten him.

"How do you feel?" He asks. Daniel is humming a tune under his breath, the theme song to some gameshome Max barely recognises. He stops at Max's question.

"Good," he says happily. "I have gained deep clarity."

That shocks a laugh out of Max, as only Daniel, even doped, drugged Daniel, can do. The longing feels physical, the hole never ending in his chest. He closes his eyes, blocking out the stars and racing legends whose shine has faded and whose records he's now beating.

In another life, he thinks, he would be there. He'd be the first face Daniel would see, the first hand he'd get to hold, the first for nearly everything, just like Daniel had been for Max.

But instead they're a time zone apart and Daniel is alone in a country where he can't even speak the language and Max is in his childhood bedroom, surrounded by his family who are fast sleep and utterly oblivious to the fact he's gay, let alone in a relationship with Daniel Ricciardo.

"Clarity," Max forces his mind back on track. "How so?"

"Oh you know," Daniel says with ease. "Cleared my mental space."

Max huffs another laugh. His chest aches, empty. He wonders does Daniel know how hollowed out he is without him.

"Go on."

"Well, I deleted a shit ton of apps. That wellness app you made me download last year? Sorry Maxy, but that went," Daniel makes a popping noise. "And the fertility tracking app Scotty downloaded at his bachelor's party."

"Presumably he just got his and your phones mixed up, right?"

"No Maxy, it was a prank because I -" Daniel breaks away, finally understanding, laughing as if Max has made the funniest joke possible.

"Okay so you cleared up some space on your phone," Max prompts him.

"Oh yes, and then deleted twitter and went to WhatsApp and left about a billion groups and then I went to Instagram, and went through who I followed, and unfollowed tons of people."

"Oh? Did I make the cut?"

Daniel tutts as if Max is being purposefully dense.

"Naturally Maxy. In fact, I sort of debated unfollowing everyone except you, but then figured you might've been pissed at me."

Max can't tell if Daniel is joking or not. He doesn't know which he wants it to be.

"So firstly I unfollowed a bunch of people I had met years ago at business deals and stuff, and then Craig and Rebecca from school because I never really liked them anyway and they definitely never liked me and then Zak because the vibes were Not It and then my high-school teacher who I definitely only ended up following on a dare and -"

"Zak," Max says, picking out the familiar name in the sea of chatter. "As in Zak Brown?"

Daniel hums. "Yeah, the vibes were Not It. And then I also unfollowed Fernando -"

"Alonso?" Max splutters out another laugh of disbelief. "What on earth did he do to you?"

"I don't like how he acts around you."

"Me?!" Max voice goes up an octave. "What? But he's always nice to me Daniel. I like him."

"I know Max, that's the point," Daniel says, and before Max can even begin to comprehend what he means, he's continuing. "And then also Richard, from McLaren because I swear he used to tell Zak everything I did and then Michael, and then Sam, this old hookup, and -"

"Michael," Max cuts in, sure he's mistaken, "as in ..."

"Yeah," Daniel says after a beat. "That Michael."

Max swallows. Michael has been a constant strain on their relationship, the fly in the otherwise smooth ointment. Max had told Daniel he wasn't good for him, he wasn't looking after him. That friendship and business rarely mixed, and that in this case, it had congealed into something of neither, a strange, interdependent relationship which drained them both.

Daniel had said Max hadn't understood it, hadn't gotten how much Michael helped him, how good it was to have a physico who was also his mate. Max replied by saying that as far as he was concerned, Michael was proving himself to be neither.

Jealousy. That was what Daniel had pinned to him, had washed all rationality away with. Max was jealous.

He remembers feeling like he had been slapped. Jealousy. Fucking jealousy.

He never mentioned Michael again.

"But," Max begins slowly, mind whirling. "You had lunch with him last week." Even though you never mentioned it, even though I had to find out through fans' blurry photos.

"Yeah," Daniel draws the syllable out. "But... the vibes were not immaculate."

"Right," Max says, hating how terse the single word sounds. And the vibes were fine when he encouraged you to do that fucked up intermittent fasting? When he recommended yoga and gym sessions instead of therapy?

"And then I unfollowed Nicky Latifi, because unfortunately, he's going to do a masters in London, and following him online will simply remind me of all the missed possibilities I had in the academic world," he goes on.

"Daniel," Max says, trying to force his mind to move on, Daniel has unfollowed Michael Daniel has unfollowed Michael. "You dropped out of school when you were seventeen. In the most loving of ways, I would hardly call you an up and coming scholar."

"Details, Maxy," he says, but then goes quiet, and so does Max. He opens his eyes. His room is painted in shadows, sunrise still distant. The trophies he won as a child are carefully displayed in neat rows, their plaques opaque with dust, now thick and heavy. He remembers winning them, young and already starving for more, remembers the weight of plastic, the way sugary pop soda dried sticky on his skin.

"I think you were right," Daniel says softly. Max nods, face pressed against his pillow.

"I mean about him. Michael."

"I know who you meant," Max murmurs.

"Okay good, because you're definitely not write about my academic prowess, I was one hundred percent on track to be this world's Stephen Hawkens."

Max laughs softly. "It's Hawking not Hawken."

"Once again Maxy, details."

There's another exhale of quiet between them, and outside Max hears the world beginning to rise. Birds waking, their whistles winding their way through the crack in his window.

"I miss you," he says softly, as if the words are barely permitted to be spoken aloud.

"I love you too Maxy," Daniel replies with ease. Then - "you should come. I think it would be nice. If you were here too."

"I think so too," Max says. The longing grows. The trophies are dusty on his shelf, forgotten. His feet hang off his childhood bed. Birds begin to sing.

"So will you?" Daniel persists. Max squeezes his eyes shut.

"I don't know. I do not think you would be saying this if you weren't off your head on pain meds," he tries to joke. His chest aches. Hollowed out, always wanting more than he's allowed.

"Of course I would," Daniel says confidently, even though he ends it with a yawn. "I anyways want you around."

Max keeps his eyes still tightly shut. He tucks his knees up, bringing them to his chest. When he was very young and his parents were still together, he'd do this. Curl up on the bed with his eyes squeezed closed. The door shut, their shouts muffled; as distant as the bird song is to him now.

"Maxy?"

His sister said the same. Maxy? Climbing on his bed, tugging at his arms. What are they talking about? Nothing, nothing, it doesn't matter.

"How's your wrist?" Max asks. He opens his eyes - the room has grown lighter, dawn finally creeping in.

"Good," Daniel says, already forgotten what he said. Like a butterfly, moving onto the next topic, nothing permanent. "Sore. I'm on some strong shit though." He laughs. It sounds so near.

Max imagines it. He could do it. Book the ticket to Spain. It wouldn't even be that bad. People know him and Daniel are mates, and mates visit each other in hospital. And that's if it even comes out, which it might not. Nobody has to know.

"I love you," he blurts out, cheeks warm. Daniel laughs again, soft and delighted.

"Good, because my right hand is currently out of action, so I might need help over the next few weeks with a few particular things."

Max laughs, cheeks warm. He's not being quiet any more. His family can probably hear him through the walls, just like he could hear his parents all those years ago.

He can imagine his sister asking him, echoing their childhood as she questions him on words she's grasped through walls. This time, though, he thinks he will tell her the truth.

"I've heard Spain is very beautiful at the end of August," he says.

Daniel hums, "I've heard something similar, Maxy."

Outside, birds sing. The dawn continues on, filling the emptiness of night.

#shhhh nobody mention the fact the time zones are back to front please #i only realised while editing and I'm too tired to try and fix it #big thanks to Isabel and Lily for talking all about Maxiel longing with me!#lotsa longing here #believe it or not this was meant to be a fun fluffy piece #but apparently I am incapable of not writing angst #parallels!#max unable to differentiate longing for a stable upbringing with longing for Daniel #and so the merging of childhood trauma is occurring with the loving of Daniel #indistinguishable and Max can't figure out which longing is good and which is bad #because as a child he wasn't allowed to want more from his parents #and not Daniel had so much more to give him #but Max had to accept the fact he's allowed to want it before he can have it #jealous dan lol #my fic #my writing

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nonsensical-pixels · 1 year

Text

THE LINDASIMS2 RESEARCH AND EXPERIMENTATION: PART SIX

Today, it's finally here, and with proper grammar and punctuation (hopefully!), as my 200th post. The proof that only @lindasims2 could've destroyed her own content.

As a bloody April Fool's joke.

And we've all been blind to it for years and years and years.

With the help of @fireflowersims, @bstu, my buddies Yolkema and Zeta_Reticuli on the Simscord, @honeymoonseason, and many other lovely folks who are also tired of Linda and her followers' BS, we finally got proof that only LINDA, ONLY LINDA, could've destroyed those files we got.

Keep reading, it's a long one, but I promise it's worth it.

THE REASON FOR THE POLYCOUNT

Firstly, I returned to my roots: the March 2021 set. I wanted to see what else I’d missed. Now, when I loaded up a specific pair of leggings Linda made, I finally understood why the polycount is so high.

If you zoom in closely, you can clearly see that each subset is duplicated multiple times. At first I thought that was normal, until I realised that it's all identical. And uh, that's not normal!

Now, what did Linda herself say? That she has experience in… clothing?

Yeah, I’m pretty sure you'd be able to do this, Linda. With your eyes closed.

THE JPG IMAGES

For awhile I wondered why this particular image was thrown in so randomly into not just this file, but almost every file in the March 2021 dump. But thanks to Linda’s providing that lovely VK link on her callout post against NoMoreSims2Patreon, I finally know the only person in this that had any ‘sentimentality’ regarding Mr Junior over here. (Yes, it’s not actually McQueen, which makes it all the more specific! I love it!)

This was posted just 1 day after that lovely March 2021 dump finally released, on 1st April. No coincidence, I bet, that this Junior is being sent by the lovely lindasims2 herself! Photo provided by @honeymoonseason and also shared to me by multiple others :]

Yeah, Linda, what do you have to say to this…? Your favourite fake Lightning McQueen has finally exposed who actually placed him in this file, and only because you were kind enough to link us to your VK group <3

THE DATES

So, after this pretty incriminating discovery, I decided to backtrack and take a look at what Linda claimed in her callout post to NoMoreSims2Patreon:

These files were apparently last edited on March 28, many days after Linda made a post announcing them. Which points to the leaker being the one to edit them, right?

Well…Linda, did you forget how you operate or something?

Linda uploaded these files on April 1st 2021, having ‘forgotten’ to upload them on March 31st. Credits go to @caramelsmiles12 and @honeymoonseason for the pics <3 Yeah, Linda, thanks for admitting your own guilt?

It’s impossible for any leaker to be able to edit files before they’re even released. To my understanding, Linda purposefully added those corrupt characters and NSFW defaults to her CC, as a sick April Fool’s prank on the people who download her leaked CC.

All of the files you see above, have had the hidden sim, PT 19 (also renamed some very bad slurs by Linda) slipped in. (Though #332 has been accidentally saved by me, lol). The top-only teen-elder male folder also contains the weird gigantoborkodoggo default. And they were all last edited a day before Linda even released the files to her subscribers.

THE EXPERIMENTS

@fireflowersims was kind enough to do some experiments with the corrupted files, to see what else we could find, as well as to dig deeper in them. I won’t state all of them here, but here are a few that stood out to me:

THE LOGIC

I can already hear Linda’s hardcore defendersand subscribers in my askbox (like @alicestrife and @sims2x10 <3) claiming that the pics have been edited, that somehow I have changed the story, etc. I have done nothing except look at the facts I have dug up or been shown. If you want proof, look at this post, it contains some stuff that may interest you and was found over a year ago. As well as the original files :]

I can already see that not being enough for some of you, so here’s the logic even if you don’t take the incriminating Junior (yeah, the fake Lightning McQueen) JPG, or the fact that the files were edited pre-release, into account.

Let’s look at the pros and cons to corrupting these files, for both Linda and her leakers.

PROS FOR LINDA: Gets to ‘expose’ the leaker that has been a thorn in her side all this time. Gets to prank the clueless people who download from her for April Fool’s. Gets more subscribers since people are desperate for ‘good’ content from her.

CONS FOR LINDA: Some people may accuse her, but of course, she always points them to her leakers. Because who else gets direct content from her? Only her hardcore patrons, who won’t turn against her.

PROS FOR LEAKERS: Uhh… maybe gets a kick out of seeing people get mad at Linda?

CONS FOR LEAKERS: People no longer trust them. They won’t download their content, which is how pirates survive in this community. Attitudes towards pirates have always been terrible in this community, especially from the paywallers themselves. Also, people will probably accuse them since they are the people who reupload CC.

Who do you think would have corrupted these files, even without the evidence shown above?

SUMMARY

Stolen meshes, illegally paywalled content, etc. was never enough for Lindasims2, clearly. No, she had one thorn in her side that she wanted to get rid of: NoMoreSims2Patreon, who continually shared her files FOR FREE to the public and meant she made much, much less money.

So, for one final April Fool’s joke of leaked content, she slipped in a very large, very corrupted surprise for anyone who downloaded from her leaker–and sat back and waited. A year later, @dystopianam stumbled across that hidden surprise and on spiraled this saga of discoveries by myself and many others.

However, Linda made a couple of mistakes. She assumed people would look at her response post and think, oh, surely it’s the leaker! Linda’s dates match up!

But thanks to Dale Earnhardt Jr. himself, a bunch of Simscorders and many others decided to research further. And found her lie. Thanks for having such love for a minor Cars 1 character, Linda!

I urge everyone to do their best to report Linda’s Tumblr account, Boosty, Patreon, etc. What she has done ON PURPOSE to destroy people’s games and frame others is NO JOKE. I am not sure if we can take legal action against this sort of ‘malware’ that she produced many years ago, but I know one thing.

A minimum of 2278 simmers have downloaded the reuploaded archive containing Linda’s special April Fool’s 2021 joke. 2278, not counting anyone who might’ve been shared these files through other links, downloaded them from friends, etc.

CHECK YOUR GAMES, guys! And for the love of all things holy, STOP SUPPORTING SIMS PAYWALLERS! ESPECIALLY THIEVES LIKE LINDA!

#lindasims2 #s2cc #sims 2 cc #ts2 cc #important info #the lindasims research and experimentation #how do u tag these sorts of posts #sims 2 research #sims 2 alert #lindasims #fuck you linda #you can say what you want about the results of my research #but the root issue is YOU #YOU paywalled the content. you deal with the people whose games are fucked because of YOUR money-hungryness

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marvelwitchergilmore · 11 months

Text

In Love

Summary: Clint Barton x Fe!Reader ~ Turns out, you’ve been keeping a massive secret from Clint despite being his friend and co-worker for the last six years.

Disclaimer: violence, swearing (I think), pining, life-or-death situations, kiss to keep cover, fluff, hand holding, angst, blood, torture, Clint does not have kids or a wife or has ever, 16+ themes (Criminal Minds kinda thing). MDNI - This is your warning - If you read on, you have agreed to read 16+ themes.

The moment you came home your first day in the field, you knew what was to come.

You never fell in love. Never even fell into ‘like’. But the moment you met him…it was game over. Your future self laughed at your younger self.

“I’m never gonna fall in love.” you would say. “I’m never gonna like a boy like that. I’m not going to want someone to come home to. I want my own space. I don’t want anyone by my side. I don’t need anyone but my dogs. They can keep me company when I’m old and grey.”

God, you wished you could be like that again. Despite knowing none of it would be true, you wished you still had those ideologies. That you would never fall in love. That you would never date or marry or want children and turn out to be a Sports Mom with a minivan filled with gear, orange slices and cases of water you got on sale from Costco.

But the moment you saw him…that ideology died. In fact, it burst into a ball of flames.

You had never had that feeling before. That kind of feeling that sent a tornado through your stomach, blood pumping around your body as if you’d just fought for your life in a cross country race and your heart doing somersaults against your lungs that knocked the air out of them.

But the moment you saw him…you had to scold yourself.

And you scolded yourself over and over and over and over again, for years.

Agent Clint Barton was first and foremost your teammate. You could only trust one another to the extent that the other did. Same with the rest of your team.

Without trust, there would be no foundation for anything.

And he trusted you. That much was clear.

Afterwards, you, Clint and the rest of your team became friends and before long, you were a unit. A family.

Each and every one of you knew the other like the back of your hands, except…Clint felt like he was missing something with you.

He knew you were keeping something from him. And sometimes it felt like the rest of the team were trying to keep your secret, too.

Though, you knew that the rest of the team didn’t know for certain about your feelings towards Clint. They knew you but when it came to your love life, you were the only one none of them could figure out. Your cards were kept firmly against your chest.

One evening, Willa (one of your teammates) spotted you in a small cafe getting a drink with a guy and when she saw you Monday morning, she instantly asked you about him. The whole team was there. Were you about to reveal that you have a secret boyfriend this whole time? Perhaps he was your husband and you had 4 kids and secretly owned a private school in Nebraska?

But, no.

“He was just a guy and we had a good time but I don’t think I’m gonna see him again.”

“Why not?” Clint asked you.

“Because the day after I saw him in the park with his girlfriend and their dog.”

“Ooh,”

“I’m sorry, honey.” Willa frowned.

“It’s okay.”

For the next couple of months, you went on more dates. Some were set up by Willa and Jerry (another teammate) and the rest by online sites. And, some were more successful than others but in the end, none of them gave you that feeling that you had when you first met Clint. That kind of feeling, the moment you dropped your bag and closed your front door had you nodding your head and accepting, “Yep, this is it.” as you realised, somehow, miraculously, you’d managed to have a loving crush on someone. But it wouldn’t matter, because he is your teammate.

And, after two years of trying to get rid of your feelings for him, or at least, trying to accept them and move on with your life, Clint sent your heart spirally and fell even harder when yourself, Willa, Jerry, Una and Clint were all sent on a mission together.

It was an extraction.

The host of the gala was a multi-millionaire and would be auctioning off his prized possessions in a secret auction. The gala was simply a front. After all, why would more than three dozen highly wealthy people all come to the same country for “a holiday”.

His prized possessions included a hard-drive that opened the buyer to a world of information surrounding offshore accounts that were used to help free-lance agents that still had ties to any and all government organisations.

Shield included.

Only, after the initial smooth sailing, things took a turn.

“It’s not here.”

From the other side of the bar, your eyes met with Clint’s and you spoke into your drink as you lifted it to your lips. “What do you mean it’s not there?”

“I mean it’s not here.” Jerry told you down comms. “The harddrive. It’s not in this room.”

“Then where could it- oh no.”

“Oh no? What oh no?” Clint asked.

Willa turned her back to the column. “It’s in his jacket.”

“What do you mean it’s in his jacket?”

“Ten O’clock.”

Low and behold, there the host stood, the silver USB stick in his hand, smiling as he waved it around three other potential buyers.

One of them went to touch it and the host pocketed it before he could, smiling before removing his jacket and handing it to his butler beside him who folded it up and began to walk away with it.

“Where’s he taking it?”

Willa lip-read what she could from the conversation.

“His bedroom.”

“His bedroom is heavily guarded.”

“You don’t say.”

“Guys, what are we going to do? We need that hard drive.” Jerry’s voice rang through.

“Someone needs to get his attention.” Willa replied.

“How?” you asked.

“I have an idea.”

Moments later, Clint was by your side.

“What are you-”

“Just trust me. You can punch me later.”

You placed your hand in Clint’s as he led you to the dance floor and suddenly you were very aware of your own skin. It was an odd feeling.

“Just do what I do. But backwards. And in heels.”

“Thanks, Fred. What exactly is your plan here?”

Clint’s eyes met yours. “He looks in your direction every 45 seconds. I’m going to give him an excuse to make his move.”

You yelped in shock as Clint pulled you flush against him, his hand flexing on your lower back.

“Just trust me?”

You caught the sincere look in his eyes and all you could do was nod.

It worked.

Just as Clint was moving you around the dance floor, your mind going elsewhere, there came a tap onto Clint’s shoulder.

“May I cut in?”

“Of course.”

Clint pressed a kiss to your cheek, quickly whispering in your ear. “Flirt. You look beautiful, by the way.”

You smiled and nodded as he walked away, letting your hands slip from his and into the host’s. And, after flirting for the length of a song, feeling his hands go lower down your back, your own hands stopping him, he finally walked you up the stairs and towards his bedroom.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got eyes on you.” Clint spoke down comms.

You looked over your shoulder as you climbed the grand staircase with the host’s hand at your back, and you saw Clint to the left of the dance floor, watching you carefully.

Once you found yourself with the host, alone, in his bedroom and the guards told to clear away and take their break for an hour or so, you made quick work in knocking him out, finding the jacket and removing the hard drive.

Only, once you left and met Clint outside the bedroom door, a new to duty guard came around the corner.

“Just follow me.” Clint took your hand in his as he pocketed the hard drive into his jacket.

You only got half-way walking down the hall when the guard, who had peaked in on the host, came back out and shouted for you both to stop.

Of course, you didn’t.

You both ran instead.

Then an alarm was pulled and every guard the host paid seemed to be after you and Clint.

“What are you going to do?” Willa asked as Clint pressed something into her hand as he ran past her and out of the door.

“We’ll meet you back at the safe house.” Clint told Willa. “Just take the hard drive and get it to Jerry. Una, tell me you’ve got the van ready.”

“Ready. I’ll meet Willa and Jerry at the extraction point.”

“Good.”

And for the next ten minutes, you and Clint were running through the streets and back alleyways of the town, running in separate directions for a while before bumping into each other down a side-ally.

Footsteps were coming closer and the sound of bullets were flying through the air.

“They don’t know what they’re aiming at.”

“But they’ll find us soon.”

“If we run out now, they’ll shoot at us.”

“So what do we do?”

“I don’t know.” you looked at him, breathless, before looking back down the alley.

Then it hit Clint.

“I have an idea but I need you to trust me. Like, really trust me.”

“Jesus Christ, Barton. Just get on with it.” you finally called out as he tried to prevent the inevitability of his plan - despite you not knowing what it was.

The footsteps were drawing closer and for a moment they stopped, a light flashed down the alleyway and voice talked before the running continued.

But none of that registered in the moment because your brain was short-circuiting since Clint’s bright idea was to kiss you.

His hands came to your face and he could feel your hands on his arms, ready to push him off and probably punch him. But you didn’t. And, rather than the kiss being stiff and awkward…it was unlike any other.

One of his hands still remained by the side of your face when the light shone down the path but his other came down your body, sending goosebumps in their wake, before he pulled you against him and he stepped closer pressing you between him and the wall.

Your own hands travelled up to his neck and pulled him closer but once the footsteps died away, the kiss slowly came to an end leaving you both breathless against one another.

“I think it worked.”

Clint nodded, swallowing hard, as he looked at you.

How had he never noticed the reflection of the stars in your eyes before?

“I think it did. Are you gonna punch me now?”

Clint watched as you paused for a moment.

“Not right now. But if they come back, I might.”

“We better go?”

You nodded. “We better go.”

You had to push yourself along because you knew, if you didn’t, you’d kiss him again and he’d simply kissed you to avoid getting caught, right? There would be no dire consequences after that kiss.

But all Clint could do was scold himself as you both made your way back to the safe house. How had he never noticed the stars in your eyes before? Or how, in the morning, the rays of the sun shone back just as bright? He also scolded himself from allowing himself to emotionally indulge in the kiss he shared with you. You are his teammate. And he knew himself.

He couldn’t let his heart get involved, or else there would be dire consequences.

Initially, things felt…awkward. But, after four years, it was just an old memory, right? And, yeah, sure, the memory would be revisited from time to time whether independently or shared…kinda. Mostly, this was when the team would have drinks one night and would be talking about love lives and first kisses and worst kisses.

“Alright, alright, alright. I’ll give you that one.” Una said, swirling her bottle of beer. “But kissing to avoid something, that can't work, can it?”

“It can.”

Your mouth spoke the words before your brain could stop you.

“And how would you know?”

You caught Clint’s smirk as he looked down to his beer.

“I just do.”

“Oh, really?”

“Come on, tell us!” Willa cried.

You shook your head with a suppressed laugh. “I’ve said too much.”

“No, come on!”

“Maybe some other time.”

“No fair.”

“Okay,” you smiled. “You tell us about what happened with Derek and your ‘worldly knowledge’ and I’ll tell you my story.”

Willa narrowed her eyes at you, playfully. “You play a clever game.”

You just sat back and smiled.

But despite all of this, four years on, neither you or Clint had seemingly changed. But he still felt like you were hiding something from him.

Except, he’d find out soon enough. And not in a way either of you hoped he would.

This time, you’d been called in on your day off.

“What’s going on?”

Clint turned around from the monitor and was at first taken aback from your clothing. Usually, you wore black pants and a black t-shirt to work or a work shirt or, if the situation called for it, sand coloured cargo trousers and a breathable t-shirt. Though, that was usually when having to attend a military base outside of cooler weather.

Instead, you wore a cosy jumper and dungarees that had paint splatter all over them, including your white pumps and small freckles of pain on the baby hairs that had escaped their cover of the hair bandanna.

Clint also spotted the remnants of nail polish in your cuticles and light paint on the side of your hands.

“We’ve just got- have you been decorating?”

You looked over yourself. “Oh, yeah. Felt like a change. Anyway, what’s going on?”

“We’ve just got wind of a hostage situation. We can’t make verbal contact with the abductor but they did send this out.”

It was a note.

And it was through that note that led you and Clint making an extraction which was initially successful until you did a final sweep afterwards only to be knocked out when you spotted a door had been left ajar and the lights turned off.

Clint, after not hearing your reply, came in after you.

And that was how you both ended up waking up inside some beat down old home that had probably been designed in the 40s.

His voice was hazy, but you heard Clint call your name. You also tried your best to take in a breath but was only met with a damp stench and the feeling of your lungs crushing you into shock.

“Take it easy, he hit you pretty hard.”

After a few minutes, you finally gained some normality in your lungs but the sting was still there.

“What happened?”

“After he went all sleeper agent on you, I came in and found you unconscious. I was trying to wake you when he stuck something in my neck.”

“I see you got the peaceful option.”

“Funny.”

“Where the hell are we?” you asked, trying your best to look around.

“I don’t know. I haven’t heard any cars so I’m gonna take a guess and say we’re in the middle of nowhere.”

“Well, that narrows it down.”

“Did you see who took us?”

“No.”

“Would you like to?”

You and Clint snapped your heads to the open space in front of you both.

Out from the shadows appeared the guy who you had seen just before his gun came across your head and your body hit the ground.

The man walked from one side of the room, to the other, screwing in the light-bulbs beneath the lampshades causing both you and Clint to squint at the brightness. You’d both been submerged in darkness for quite some time.

“My name is Jack. I know, how original. It was actually my mother’s father’s name. Named after my grandfather, grand ol’ Jack. Lived till he was 92. Always said the best way to survive was to always tell the truth. That lies weighed on the soul. And to have a small shot of whiskey before going to bed. Said that was good for the heart since it quietened the mind.”

“Really touching story,” you cut him off. “But why are we here?”

“Don’t you get it?”

You and Clint looked at one another. Had you both missed a part of this conversation?

“I tried to save those people in the warehouse.” Jack told both of you as he straddled a chair. “People in this world need saving from themselves. People are dying younger than they ever did. And it’s because of all the lies. The lies they keep from their parents, and their children and themselves. It’s all crushing their soul. And I knew…” Jack smiled, wagging his finger. “I knew the moment I saw you down there that yours was being crushed the most.”

“Saw me?”

Jack stood from his chair. “I was in the corner office, on the top floor. It has an excellent view. Whoever has that office next will love it. The accents on the wall, ah magnificent.” Jack kissed his fingers before continuing. “But it gave me a good scope. I understand not everyone will…agree with my methods, per say.”

“No, because you took people hostage.” Clint pointed out.

“I was trying to save them! And I was finally getting through to them until those SWAT guys pulled out my team.”

“Again, because you had taken them hostage. And now you’ve taken us hostage.”

“This world needs saving!” Jack yelled. “It needs saving from the lies people tell and the secrets they all hide.”

“Alright!” you yelled out before calming your voice. “Alright. So…the world needs saving? Jack, do you really think you’re saving it…by killing people? The hold-up down on 9th? That was you, right? Those people you let go-”

“They let their souls free. They told the truth.”

“So, if we-” you looked at Clint before turning back to Jack. “If we tell you the truth, will you let us go?”

“Yes.”

For a moment, the feeling in the room got lighter. Maybe there was a way out after all.

“But you’ll only lie. No, you…your secrets are too big to just give up freely. You…you’re a take em’ to the grave kinda gal. So, no. I won’t let you go. Not until I know that it’s the truth.”

“How will you know?”

Clint regretted asking the question.

“Because she’ll be begging to tell me. You both will.”

Neither of you knew how much time had passed but the spots from the light were getting duller and bigger.

“No, no. You can not sleep yet. You haven’t freed your soul.”

“Why do we have to free our souls?” you asked, the taste of blood coming to your mouth. “What if I don’t want to be saved? You said it yourself. I’d rather take mine to the grave.”

“Oh, but you don’t. Not really.”

Jack had been circling you and Clint for a while, as if he were a hunter, teasing you - waiting for you to beg to be killed.

“No, I can see it in your eyes. The eyes never lie.”

Jack levelled himself though he wasn’t close enough to knock out. His hands gripped your thighs as he hummed, annoyance clear in his expression as he tried to figure out your secret.

“Perhaps you killed someone? No, that isn’t it. Maybe you ran away? Have a secret family? No, that’s not it either. The eyes never lie to me. What is it? What are you not telling me? What are you not telling yourself?”

Clint called your name and Jack saw the slightest change in you. So slight, in fact, even you didn’t feel it.

“It’s him. It had something to do with your team. No, teammate. It’s him and just him.”

Jack pushed against your thighs so he could stand up straight. Quickly, he made his way over to Clint and circled him.

“What is it? What is it about you, huh? What has her secret got to do with you? Let's see if we can find out.”

You heard the snap of a switchblade as it opened and the fight for Jack to steady Clint but before he could make the first cut or slice, you cried out.

“Stop! He doesn’t know! He- he doesn’t know. Please…just…just don’t hurt him. Please.”

Jack looked over to you and Clint’s name escaped your lips, both in pleading and question.

“Oh…oh, this runs so much deeper than just a secret.”

You lowered your head for a moment. The pounding in your heart was only made harder by your own silent cries telling you to not say anything else. But there was a chance you’d both die, so why not tell him? Right? Maybe it would save your lives? Or would it only give Jack more ammunition to use?

“Doesn’t it?”

“Please…don’t.”

Jack knelt in front of you and gently touched your cheek before moving his hand down and grasping under your jaw, forcing your head up.

“Tell me. Let me free your soul.”

Tears rolled down your cheeks, your heart crushing your lungs inside your chest.

“If you don’t tell me, I will only hurt him more. And you don’t want to hurt him. Tell me. Help me save both of you. Tell me. No, tell him.”

Jack moved your head, forcing you to look at Clint with tear stained cheeks.

“I’m sorry, Clint. I’m so sorry.”

Your name came from Clint’s voice, barely above a whisper.

“You can admit it,” Jack said your name. “You committed the most heinous act an agent such as yourself can do, didn’t you? You created a danger, not only for him, but yourself.”

Clint said your name again, trying to move his hands only to find them still shackled to his chair.

“You fell in love.”

You took in a breath, the beating feeling in your chest, turning into a stabbing feeling against your lungs. Your head remained down as you squoze your eyes shut, more tears escaping from your lids, down your lashes and onto your lap.

“Please…”

You didn’t even know if Jack could hear you, but you pleaded with him anyway.

“We need to hear you say it.”

You remained silent but then-

“Say it!”

Jack’s hand came to your face and pushed you to look at him.

“Say it! Say it!”

You continued to plead with him until he pushed you back further and you screamed out.

“I fell in love! I fell in love! Please! Stop! No! Please! I-I fell in love! I fell in love with him! Please! I-I fell in love with him. I’m in love with him!”

Jack stopped and waited a moment before pulling you back so all four legs of the chair were on the ground and he finally removed his hand from your face.

“And there it is.”

He was smiling. The look and sound of fear in your body had pushed him further but the defeated look on your face…that couldn’t be bought. That had to be created, by his hands.

Clint looked between Jack and you and he didn’t know what to be more worried about. What Jack could possibly do to you next, or the fact that even he knew you were telling the truth to Jack.

You were in love with him.

But he didn’t have long to sit and think about it because flashing lights suddenly came from behind the thick fabric that covered the broken windows, blocking out the light of the day and night.

“No! No!” Jack shouted. “I still need to save them!”

It all happened so quickly, Clint barely caught the fact that Willa had rushed inside, Una arresting Jack and detaining him. Willa rushed over to Clint as Jerry came over to you.

“How did you find us?” Clint asked Willa as Jerry came behind you and picked the locks of your handcuffs.

“Are you okay?”

Jerry knew it was a stupid question, even when you didn’t answer him.

“A dog walker called it in. Said they could hear someone yelling as if they were in pain. He also knew no one has lived in this house since 1982.”

As Willa picked Clint’s handcuffs, Jerry had managed to get you out of yours and without looking back, you darted for the door.

“Wait, wait,” Una called after you. “We need to wait for the medics.”

“Can you take me to the hospital?”

Una looked you over. She could see the clear look in your eyes. You didn’t want to stay here for another second.

“Don’t you want to wait for Clin-”

“Now?”

Una nodded, radioing into Willa who was standing behind Clint, letting Jerry finish unpicking the locks.

“Sure, I’ll call ahead.”

“Thank you, Willa.”

Hoping into the passenger seat, you shut the door as Una climbed into the driver’s seat and took off down the road and to the local hospital.

“What happened in there?” Una asked you as she flicked her eyes from the road to you and back again.

“I don’t wanna talk about it.”

Even with your hand shaking, you pushed your fingers across your face to try and wipe away the tears.

By the time you arrived at the hospital, you were taken to a separate room where Una stayed in the waiting room, filling out your forms. Your hands were too shaky to even hold a pen and you could just about remember your own name.

The doctor ran multiple tests and pushed the small cuts together with closure slips.

“You’re all good but I’d like you to remain here for a couple hours, just in case there’s any change.”

You nodded and quietly thanked the doctor as she left.

There were patches of dirt on your hands, as well as blood and old tears where they washed away the stains.

After an hour, Una came in only to leave a few minutes later since she was called back to base to interrogate Jack. And, as she left, you slowly lowered yourself down on the hospital bed and, despite the noise in your head, you fell asleep.

A few hours later, a nurse came in and woke up.

“You can go home now, honey. We’re gonna need this bed.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” you tried to get up quickly but the nurse only laid a hand on your shoulder.

“It’s okay, honey. Take your time. I read your chart, you took quite the hit. Your friend is waiting for you in the waiting room to take you home.”

You nodded, swinging your legs over the side.

“Here. Take these for the headache.”

“Thank you.”

“No worries, honey.”

By the time you had grabbed your jacket and started walking down the hallway, you stalled when you saw who the nurse was talking about.

If you had the energy, you probably would have run in the opposite direction. But you didn’t. You were tired and if the nurse hadn’t woken you, you probably would have slept for the next 24 hours.

“Una was gonna come but I fought her for it.” Clint tried to smile but he could see your’s was just forced.

“Look, what happened-”

“Clint, please…I– I don’t want to talk about it. I just want to go home.”

“Okay.”

The drive back was silent and awkward and by the time he pulled up, you looked at him for as long as you could stomach (which wasn’t long) before opening up the door and thanking him.

And, the moment you pushed your key inside your door, you thought you were safe. That everything was finished for the day and you could deal with it tomorrow.

But Clint got out of the car and called your name.

“Wait!”

He took the porch steps two at a time and when he finally reached you, you forced yourself to look at him.

“I need to say something.”

“You don’t have to say anything, Clint.”

“But I want to.”

“Please…I’d…I just want to forget what happened today. Please…I can’t do it again.”

“I know you’re scared and watching what he was doing to you…I was scared, too. I am. I am scared.”

“Clint,” you could see the look in his eyes and you shook your head. “No. Don’t. Don’t say anything you’re gonna regret.”

“The only thing I regret is not telling you earlier.” Clint told you. “Then maybe none of this would have happened.”

“Clint-”

“I-”

“Please.”

Your hand flew to his chest and he stopped talking. “Please. Whatever you’re about to say…please wait. Wait for the right time.”

Finally, you looked at him and his hands came to the top of your arms, stroking downwards before holding you close.

“Please…just wait.”

“Okay.”

That was all he said before kissing your head and saying it again.

“Okay. I’ll wait.”

By the time you woke up in the morning, your mind had stilled and before it could get loud again, you started painting again. All of your furniture was covered and two out of the 6 walls you had planned to paint had been cleaned, stripped, sanded, coated and painted.

And, just as you started on the third, a knock came to your door.

“I just want to help.” Clint told you. “And, let’s be honest, last time you tried decorating this place on your own, you nearly knocked yourself out with paint cleaner.”

You, for the first time in the last 48 hours, smiled.

“You can take the kitchen. There should be some new cupboards to keep you company.”

“You’re finally changing them?” Clint asked, entering the kitchen, his tool belt around his hips.

“I am. Picked them out last week.”

“Thank god.” he said. “I hated the last ones.”

“Same.”

The rest of the day ran smoothly enough, despite what the last couple of days had revealed. Clint informed you that you and him both had the next two weeks off before either of you could go back into the field. He also helped fix the kitchen cabinets to the wall as well as install your new oven. You could have done it on your own, but having someone else there made it easier. Clint also helped you move around the heavier furniture and, when fixing the wiring to the lightbulb, he held the ladder steady under you so you wouldn’t fall.

And for the following two days, neither of you mentioned anything about what happened with Jack. It was like nothing had ever happened in the first place.

Until Clint decided he couldn’t wait anymore.

It was easier, before the kiss, to shut off his feelings for you; that worry, that concern, that joy that exceeded more than just the smile of friendship. But after, they became much more clear. He saw the stars in your eyes and the light in your smile. He was more than just amazed at your talents of being an agent. Of course, those who joined Shield all had similar talents, but there was just something more about you. More to be figured out, more to learn, more to be desired and most of all, more to be loved.

He couldn’t wait any longer.

Sure, he’d been called stubborn before but now he was impatient. He’d let time slip by for six years and in that time there had been moments where he wanted to call out from the top of buildings that his feelings for you were more than that of a friend, of a teammate. But he couldn’t.

There was always a mission or a job to be done or a date that got in the way. And now, there had been a raging lunatic that, if Willa and the rest of the team hadn’t landed when they did, could have killed you. He’d set your soul free, you’d been able to tell your secret. What was to stop him from not letting the rest of you go? What was stopping him from shooting you where you sat or using your life against his?

Nothing.

Because Clint couldn’t free himself. He couldn’t free himself from his chair or the shackles that kept him there. No matter how many times he called out your name or shouted for Jack to stop, he couldn’t free himself. He couldn’t get there. He couldn’t stop Jack from doing whatever he wanted to the women he fell in love with all those years ago.

But he could do something now.

So, as you stood beside him in the kitchen measuring out a plank of wood to fit on the wall above your stove, Clint looked at you and finally told you what he’d been wanting to tell you for years and what he was about to tell you two days ago before you begged him to wait, you not fully knowing whether he was going to reject you or tell you that he loved you.

“I’m in love with you.”

Whatever you had been saying about the plank of wood and how you needed to get some more sandpaper from Home Depot quickly came to a stop as you stumbled over your words and looked at him.

“What?”

“I’m in love with you.” Clint repeated.

“No, Clint. Don’t-”

“I’m not just saying it because of what happened.” Clint assured you. “I should have told you years ago but I kept making excuses. But, after what happened, I don’t want to be able to find an excuse. I nearly lost you because I didn’t tell you sooner. I’m not losing you again. I’m in love with you.”

You were stunned to say the least.

“I know, two days ago, you told me to wait. I was going to tell you when I got to the hospital but they told me you’d just fallen asleep. And then you told me to wait when I dropped you off and maybe I should, but I don’t want to. I don’t want to miss a chance to tell you again.”

Again, you were stunned into silence.

“I’m in love with you.”

“I’m dizzy.”

That was all you could say. All the information and realisation of every action made in the last six years all hit you at once.

Swiftly, Clint pulled out one of the bar stools and you sat down holding your head.

“You’re in love with me?”

“I’m in love with you.” Clint repeated.

“You’re in love…with me? Me? The woman sat in front of you? Me?”

“Yes. I am in love with you.”

“Have you inhaled paint cleaner?”

Clint chuckled and pulled out a chair himself, sitting with his knees locked into yours before he took your hands in his.

He stated your full name, “I am in love with you. And have been for the last six years.” Clint also stated your birthdate, star sign, address and badge number. “Does that clear it up?”

Your heart was beating in your chest so fast you thought it might actually explode.

“Clint, I…I need to know you’re not just saying this because of what happened.”

Clint gave a small nod. “I have an idea but I’m gonna need you to trust me. Like, really trust me.”

You nodded and a moment later, Clint’s hands had moved from yours to your face, cupping your cheeks before pulling you in for a kiss.

It was gentle and loving and unlike any other kiss you had experienced before. Other guys had taken what they wanted, forced the kind of kiss they wanted out of you. But not Clint.

Somehow, he conveyed every emotion he could into the kiss and you couldn’t help but feel your mind wander back to your first kiss, down the side alleyway. That felt real. You had to convince yourself it was fake but this, and that, was real.

It was all real.

For a moment, you felt Clint smile into the kiss as your hands gripped at the collar of his checked shirt to pull him closer. A smile which you returned.

“I’m in love with you.”

“I’m in love with you, too.”

Clint smiled and kissed you again, and again, and again.

Despite everything that had happened, and everything that you had previously thought, you had come to realise that maybe it wasn’t so bad to learn to love and accept love in return. And in the years that passed, despite the dangers the job put you both in, it was nice to come home and be greeted with a familiar face and a warm embrace and to have a family you could both call your own.

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hannahssimblr · 4 months

Text

Chapter One (Part 2)

Back at the house, Shane’s mother Caroline is pulling rocket out of the vegetable patch. She complains all the time about having planted it without realising how invasive it is and how it would choke and overcrowd her shallots. Beside her is a growing pile of herbs, some of which she will offer to me before I go home, and I’ll take it knowing that my parents don’t know how to cook with things like rocket.

“Well,” She says to me with the sun in her eyes. “How did you get on?”

“Horrible.” I say. “I thought I’d be sick.”

“Great to get back into the swing of things again.” She says. “Sure you’ll be flying up and down those fields again in no time.”

“I hope so.” Down the garden Claire is lying serenely in the sun next to a flourishing bed of summer flowers. When I go over to her she squints up at me and says “You’re a bit sweaty.”

“Yes I know.” I say, and I lie down beside her with my arms and legs spread eagle and close my eyes against the warmth of the sun.

“This is why I don’t do things like running.” She says. “I can’t stand the feeling of exertion.”

“I can’t imagine you sweating.”

“‘Cause I don’t do that.”

Shane is toeing a football around the grass nearby with Rosie snapping at his feet. I can’t fathom how he has the energy. “If I’d it my way you’d be out of bed at six, running up and down the park with me.” He tells her.

“I’d never do a thing like that in my life.”

“Evie will though, won’t you?”

I sigh. “I suppose.” We have a plan in place to get me fit again once we go back to college in a few weeks, and now that Shane is moving to Portobello it means he’ll only be a five minute cycle from our apartment. When it’s time for our run he can just come and get me. The thought is ominous, but not half as ominous as the thought of heading back to Dublin after the summer, even if I won’t be in the NCAD building much this year.

There isn’t much that stands out from second year. It passed me by in a haze, and all that I really did was work and study, eat and sleep. I chose to specialise in illustration, just like I said I would, and I enjoyed it, but it really just became my life, and once again I fell into the role of the quiet girl in the back of the classroom, never all that willing to participate in pub nights with the others. I went home and drew all evening instead, sometimes hanging out with Jaz and Serena when they were over, but apart from that it was quiet. I didn’t want any new people in my life.

Marnie specialised in graphic design, Dean in painting, and we never spoke except for the time that she said something to me in the canteen about liking my hair. I didn’t say anything back to her and then she never tried to talk to me again. They don’t talk to each other anymore either, but I don’t care about what happened. I saw Dean in the hallways once or twice, and out in the yard with some girl who I almost felt like warning about him, but then chose not to risk getting tangled up in his rotten web again. I hope that she will be smarter than I was. I decided to take an optional extra year and do an internship, but they did not, and so next May they will graduate without me and I’ll never have to see them again.

“Are you excited for your internship thingy?” Claire asks me, somehow following my train of thoughts to the same point, and I tell her that I am. “I’m scared too though.” I admit. “I feel like I wouldn’t know how to act in a real work place with professionals.”

“You’ll be grand. You worked in that café before.”

“Yeah but a café is very different from a screen printing studio, I think probably anybody can pour an americano and put a bun on a plate. The people at the studio are going to be actual paid artists who design things and sell them.”

“But you are an actual artist.”

“Not yet.” I shift up to lean back on my elbows and watch Caroline busy at the beds still, the soft buzz of the honeybees in her hives fill the air with a pleasant, comfortable sort of ambience. “When I get paid for something I’ve done, I think then I can say that I am.”

“Hm.” She says. “Well then you can say it after you’ve painted that window later on this week.”

“Oh yeah.” I say, remembering the promise I made to my former manager to do some typography on the front window of the café. It’s the kind of thing I haven’t done before, but the idea of it feels so exciting that I feel I’d probably do it for no money at all, but the fifty euro he’s offering sounds enticing too.

“Here, what’s the name of that printing place you’re going to work?” Shane wants to know, and I tell him. “Mezzotint.”

He nods. “I think I know one of the lads that works there.”

“Really?” This incredibly culchie man and the amount of alternative social circles he seems to have a finger in never ceases to surprise me. Since when is he randomly hanging out with screenprinters?

“Yeah.” He says, kicking the football into the back wall of the long garden with a thwack. “Simon something. He’s hung out with me and my friends a few times now. Nice lad.”

“Is he a single lad?” Claire asks for my benefit, and I lightly thump her on the arm. She’s only teasing. She knows I’m firmly settled into being entirely romantically unavailable again. Safe limbo, married to myself, never looking at any boys.

“Wouldn’t say so.” Shane says. “I think he’s going out with one of the girls.”

“Oh no.” I say sarcastically, and take my phone out of my bum bag to check the time. “Anyway, I think it’s time I head off.”

“Aw, stay.” Claire says, but I show her that it’s almost five and she understands immediately. Kelly works with her dad, the head chef at a local hotel, every weekday until five. She’ll be home in about ten minutes and I don’t want to be anywhere near this garden when she is.

“Don’t forget the rocket.” Caroline tells me, and I don’t. I grab a generous handful from her and let myself out over the stile ladder.

“Same time tomorrow.” Shane yells after me.

“Ugh!” I yell back, and take off over the fields that lead me back towards town.

Beginning // Prev // Next

#lucky girl part 3 #summer vibes #bring me back i am so cold

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niabang · 5 months

Text

The Summer it Came True

Previous chapter

Next chapter

Chapter 3

Pairing: Bangchan × black female reader named Kel

Word count: 2191

More under the cut!

⁷

Two days had passed since you bumped into him at the store.

Two days had passed since you saw his face again after what felt like forever.

Two days had passed since you realised my feelings for him were still very much there.

Two days had passed since you exchanged numbers.

Two days had passed, and he hadn't texted you.

We're you supposed to text first? Was he waiting for you to text him? You surely couldn't do that. You didn't want to seem thirsty. You had to take your mind off all this. You still didn't have designs ready for the collection. Some summer this was.

You were making myself a quick sandwich when you saw your phone light up from a message, and you just knew it was him, so you instantly dropped what you were doing and picked up your phone.

...

Chan

Hey

You

Chan

I stopped by the old neighbourhood today to visit friends, and your house still looks the exact same way it did before I left. The only difference is that no one was in it. I would have loved to see your parents again. Maybe I'll check back another time.

You

Chan... my parents died in a car crash six years ago. I stay at the beach house every summer now. That's why no one was at home.

Chan

Are you pulling my legs right now, Kel?

What do you mean?

No one told me anything, not even my mom

I'm so sorry that happened, Kel

I shouldn't have said that

I'm so sorry

You

No, don't worry, it's fine.

You didn't know

How could you have known?

Just forget about it. I'm okay.

Chan

So what's going on with you?

You

Well, for starters, after mom and dad died, they left everything to me. The houses, cars, and the entire company. I became the ceo of a multi-million dollar company at the age of 20. And I'm currently drowning in work. Other than that, nothing too interesting. You?

Chan

Oh, that's definitely not what I expected to hear. So, no parties or boyfriends or?

I already told you everything that was up with me when we bumped into each other at the store. That was pretty much it.

You

Oh, so what do you plan to do while you're here?

Chan

Well, I have two weeks here in Sydney and two weeks in Melbourne because of family, so I'm just trying to meet up with old friends, but things have changed a lot. No one actually still lives in the neighbourhood except you, Ryan, and Jade.

You

Yep, everyone did leave eventually. Some of them probably live in other countries now. I didn't keep in touch that much to know what happened to everyone.

Chan

Oh...

It'd be nice to catch up sometime

You

I'm sorry I have to go now

I'm getting a call from work

Bye chan

Why did Angie have to call you now? Why now? She called was probably calling to know how the designs were going and how were you going to tell her that you didn't have anything yet?

You looked back at your sandwich on the table and reread the chats from your conversation. Why did he ask about boyfriends? Why did he care? He said he wanted to meet up with you. Did he truly want to see you, or were you just his only hope because everyone else was gone?

Hours passed after your little conversation with chan. It was evening now, and your butt had fully merged with your office chair. You had made some progress with the designs, but you didn't really like them, so you decided to keep those and start new ones.

You got thirsty, so you went downstairs for a drink, and that was when you heard a knock on your door. Nobody except Angie, your secretary and CJ knew knew the address to the beach house, and from what you knew, CJ was in Paris for a show, and Angie was still at work. Who could it be? You didn't order anything either, so you weren't expecting anyone.

"Who is it?" You asked, looking through the peephole, but you didn't see anyone, and no one answered, so you threw caution out the window and opened the door.

You opened the door only to be met with no one. Was someone pulling a prank on you? You were just about to shut the door and go about your business when someone wedged their foot in between it, and this wasn't just a random person it was HIM. It was Chan. What was he doing here? Why did he have a box of chocolates in his hand?

"Hi." He said with a smile on his face. You had fully opened the door now, so you just stood looking looking at each other.

"Oh my God, chan, you scared me. What are you doing here? More importantly, how did you find your way here?"

"C'mon kel have some faith in me. Things did change but not that much. Of course, I still remember the beach house."

"Oh." You said, not knowing what else to say.

"Can I come in?" He asked. You totally forgot that you were just standing on opposite sides of your door staring at each other.

"Oh yeah, sure. I'm sorry." You moved out of the way so he could make his way in. As you turned back towards him from locking the door, you were met with Chan handing out the box of chocolates to you.

"Oh, thank you. But why?" You said while stretching out my hands to collect the box like you weren't about to explode.

"It's the least I could do after disappearing for years. It's nothing." He answered your question.

It wasn't nothing. In fact, it was everything. The man you had feelings for just gave me a box of chocolates. You were losing it.

You told him to have a seat on one of the couches, and you made your way to the kitchen to drop the box of chocolates on the island

"Do you want anything?" You asked from the kitchen.

"Just water is fine." He replied. You got a bottle of water out from the fridge and handed it to him.

"Thank you. I honestly came by to see you because everything you told me about you working reminded me of me. You shouldn't keep yourself cooped up in here. I spend so much time working that i barely have time for anyone. Not even myself. I don't want that to happen to you." Chan said when he had taken a sip of water

"Well, you're about six years late, but I'll give you an A for effort." He laughed a bit when you said that and then patted the empty spot next to him on the sofa to signal you to sit down. You honestly forgot that you were still standing. This whole situation was still a bit shocking to you.

"What I'm trying to say is it's summer. You should take a break. Let me take you out tonight. Just to clear your head."

Did you hear properly, or were you having auditory hallucinations? Did he just offer to take you out? All of a sudden? Was this like a date? Of course, it wasn't a date he just wanted to catch up because he hadn't been around, and you were the only one accessible to him.

You stood there not knowing what to say so he told you that if you didn't want to come you didn't have to but you reassured him that you did want to (like you would ever pass on the opportunity to go out with him) and he should give you a few minutes to get ready. He was dressed in black cargo pants, a white shirt, and a black hat, so you decided to mirror him a bit.

You put on black cargo shorts and a cropped white tank, then coupled it with a black shrug, white socks, black platform converses, and a black mini backpack to keep your things in.

You combed my curls out, put on some light makeup, and made my way downstairs.

"Okay, I'm ready. Where exactly are we going?" You asked.

"Is the old amusement park still open at this time? I haven't been there in years." He replied your question with a question.

"Yeah, it is." You said.

"Okay, so let's go there."

"Wow, so so you didn't even have anything planned. What if the park had closed down or something?" You said sarcastically.

"Then we would have driven around till we found something to do. Now stop talking and let's go."

"Let me just grab my keys." You told him.

"Give them to me. I'll drive." He said, stretching out his hand to collect the key

"No, it's my car. I'll drive and you be my passenger princess." That was funny if you said so yourself.

"No. I insist I drive since I'm the one who suggested the outing." It was clear that you were both stubborn, and this debate on who should drive was not going to end anytime soon.

"Should we just rock, paper, scissors for it?" You suggested. He agreed, and he ended up winning. He happily took the keys from your hand and started the car while you turned off lights in the house and locked up.

You joined him in the car through the passenger seat, and he reminded you to use your seat belt for safety. You wanted to tell him that you knew very well how cars worked, but decided it was best not to say anything.

You both ended up talking about his experience in Korea, and you were more than shocked to find out that he trained for seven years without any assurance that he would debut. He only debuted in 2018. He had been a trainee longer than he had been an idol.

"We're here." He said when you arrived at the gate.

You both got out of the car and made your way to the ticketing booth, and there you had another argument about who would put money on the ride and games card.

You ended up agreeing to split the bill half and half, and proceeded to go on the rides. You couldn't help but notice just how much of a baby he still was. The way he squealed and giggled when we got on particularly scary rides, was so precious to you. He even begged for you guys not to go into the haunted house and you almost cried laughing.

It made you think about everything he told you about being a trainee for seven years and how his childhood was basically taken away from him because he wanted to pursue his dreams.

He gave up his youth for his future.

After you had gotten on basically every ride in the park, you found some benches and sat on one together. There was an awkward silence for some minutes, and you were lost in his beautiful features, but you were snapped out of thought when he got up from the bench and told you that he'd be back.

You almost wanted to follow him, but for some reason, you decided to sit back and wait. Some minutes after, he came back with an entire tray of food.

"I didn't know what you wanted, so I just got the same thing for the both of us." He said sitting down.

You looked at what he had got, and it was hotdogs, fries, and milkshakes. You were about to combust. This man was so nice and caring. He was perfect.

By the time you were done eating, it was a little bit after 11, and you definitely couldn't go on rides after eating, so you decided to get going.

He wanted to return the games card to you before you parted ways, but you told him to keep it because he might want to come back sometime before he left, and surprisingly, he didn't argue. He just said thank you and kept it in his wallet.

The Uber that he had ordered to take him back to his hotel room had arrived, so he handed me my keys. we both said goodbye to each other and parted ways.

You didn't want him to leave yet, but what were you supposed to say? Chan, don't go. I have feelings for you?

By the time you got home, you had received a text from him.

...

Chan

Thank you for today

I haven't had this much fun in a while

You

What are you thanking me for?

I should be thanking you. You finally got me to have some fun, and plus, you suggested it

Chan

Hey, I was wondering...

It's kind of lonely in my hotel room, and I have no one to hang out with, but you.

If it's not too inconveniencing, could I come stay in the beach house with you for the remaining time I have in Sydney?

You

Typing...

WHAT. THE. ACTUAL. FUCK?

Hi guys! ❤️

If anyone here wants to be added to a permanent taglist for this series feel free to tell me. I would really appreciate it. I hope you guys are enjoying it so far!

-Nia

#stray kids #stray kids fluff #stray kids fanfic #bang chan #bangchan fluff #bangchan fanfic #soft hours #fluff #friends to lovers #mutual pining #black kpop fans #black kpop stans #kpop #kpop tumblr #kpop fanfic #kpop fluff #slow burn

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