#she doesn't care about the world or about people or about anything really outside of her normal periphery
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pineapple || james potter
pairing: james potter x reader
1,219 words, teacher and james go on their first date! what could go wrong?
a/n: can you tell i am horrible at titling my fics... somehow i just need it to relate to what happens. so uh. enjoy!
prev. chapter
You feel your heart going absolutely crazy. You know it's first-date jitters, but somehow it feels worse this time. It's nothing special, really. You try to tell yourself. Just another first date. Just like other first dates (that has turned to nothing...) And now this first date is the father of one of the children you teach. Yeah, nothing special.
After several attempts to make yourself busy by looking at your phone, you hear your name. It's James and he's walking up to you.
"First name basis already?" you ask smugly.
He chuckles, "What? Sorry, I guess I'll just call you-"
"Please don't, I hate being called that outside of work."
"Got it."
The two of you walk together and he leads you to a quaint coffee shop, James swears by the coffee made here. When the orders are made you find a seat and sit down.
"It's been a while since I've been on a date," he says, hands fidgeting with the receipt.
"Same here," you admit.
He stops playing with the receipt and furrows his brows. "Really? But I'm the parent."
"And I'm the one taking care of your kid for a whole day, 20 kids, actually."
"Huh... and you don't even meet people in the industry?"
You snort. "Unfortunately no, a lot of them are older and married with kids. There's no one to date there. Trust me, even the older teachers try to make me get on dating apps. If anything, you're doing them a favour."
He grins that grin that makes your heart do a little flip. Oh god, it's happening, huh?
"I'm happy to do that."
You continue your conversation, keeping it light with small talk. Then, a waiter comes by to give you your meal and you both thank him. James' phone dings, he checks the message and he replies to it while you patiently wait for him.
He looks back up at you and keeps his phone. "Sorry, my best friend is taking care of Harry today, he was just sending an update."
"That's alright. Is he doing okay?"
"Harry?" he asks, looking a little nervous. His arms are resting crossed on the table. "Uh- yeah. He's fine. Not so sure about Sirius. He just said he's letting Harry use his tattoos as a colouring book."
You laugh. "Yeah, I can see that. He does love to colour. Have you always wanted to be a father?"
James looks stunned, but laughs it off. "Not a normal question for the first date, is it?"
"Well since you already are one," you shrug.
James thinks for a while before answering. "Yeah... I've always wanted kids... Well I'm sure you've seen from the documents I sent to the school when Harry enrolled. I'm widowed..."
You nod, you do in fact know this, you had read through those documents for every child. Understanding their family structure and dynamics can be a big help in understanding the child and improving their development in school and at home.
"She uh- had complications at birth and didn't make it." He let out a sigh and shrugged. "So now it's just me and Harry. And I wouldn't trade him for the world.
"You really love him, don't you?"
"I do."
"You know you can talk about him, right?"
James looks down and purses his lips. "It's just that... other people I've dated weren't really... keen on the fact that I have a kid. You know, another person's child and all."
You tilt your head down to try and make eye contact with him. Somehow, your hand reaches out to his. "You know that doesn't matter to me, right? I already knew you had a son, hell, I even taught him for a whole year, and I still accepted your date."
His mouth forms a small frown, but his hand grabs yours anyway. "I just didn't want to seem weird."
"You're not. Promise," you give his hand a squeeze.
"Is it too early to want to kiss you?"
You both stare at each other for a second before you burst out laughing, making him laugh too.
James starts to tell you about Harry, and visibly gets more comfortable the more he does it. He tells stories from his first words to potty fails. He shows videos and pictures. From there, the both of you fall into an easy rhythm of branching from topic to topic in your conversation. You exchange bites of your food. Before you know it, you're laughing while your meal is long done and you're both on your second cup of coffee.
For some reason, you feel an itch in your throat.
Nonchalantly, you ask, "Did your pasta have pineapple?"
"Yes, why?"
"Firstly, who the hell puts pineapple in pasta? Secondly, I think I'm having an allergic reaction."
James sits up in a panic. "Oh god- I'm so sorry-"
You cough into your first. "It's fine, it usually doesn't react as bad as it used to but I like to stay away from pineapples anyway. I'm not gonna die. Can you get me some cold water, please?"
He immediately stands up and gets you a glass from the counter. You down the glass in seconds and you feel better.
"I'm so sorry that was embarrassing-"
"You're sorry? I gave you a bite!"
"I forgot to ask, it's my fault."
He gently places a hand on your shoulder. "I'm so sorry, let me make it up to you"
"James, trust me, it's fine-"
"I'll bring you on a second date."
You furrow your brows. "You just saw me cough my lungs out from an allergic reaction and you still want to bring me out?" you can't help but laugh at the ridiculousness.
"I mean... I still find you attractive after all that so if you find me attractive after I rambled about my own child to you though you have taught him for this past year I don't see why not."
At this point, you're pretty sure your cheeks hurt from all the smiling you've been doing the entire time.
Despite your protests, James insists on driving you home. When you reach the entrance to your apartment building, he tells you to wait before rushing out of the car to open the door to the passenger's side. You giggle and take the hand he holds out to you as you step out of his car.
He tugs the hand that is holding yours to make you face him. He's so close, you're desperately hoping your cheeks don't show how flushed you are.
"So... same time next week?" you suggest.
He nods. "No pineapples this time, guaranteed."
"And you're allowed to talk about Harry."
He beams at that, looking down and letting out a sigh before looking back at you. "Is it still too early to kiss you?"
"Yes, but for now I'll give you this," you press a kiss to his cheek. You slowly walk towards your building, your arms stretching until you gently let go when you're too far away. "I'll see you next week!"
And like that, you disappear into the building. James is left standing there, still in disbelief of the entire day.
He lets out a sigh, smiling, and gets into his car. He 's so excited to tell Sirius when he gets home.
a/n: if i'm being so honest i have zero idea how most allergies work so please don't get technical with me... also!!!! thank you so much for the love on part one eek i am on a roll i'm so happy to be writing this series.
taglist: @willows-lane @celosiastarr @nsr-15
#marauders x reader#marauders imagine#zee writes#james potter x reader#james potter imagine#james potter x you
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The King
Chapter 6
Violet is a bad girl at school, not giving a care about her grades that are falling and getting in trouble every week. She smokes, drinks and she's only sixteen. Her mother has had enough of her and doesn't know what to do with her. But when she's forced to go to her mother's employee dinner for the United States Army, she meets the mysterious and handsome General James Barnes.
She is infatuated with him and can't seem to stay away. The closer she gets to him, the more she craves him and soon she finds herself entering a world of darkness, pain and pleasure.
“So what exactly did he say?” Violet demanded of her mother as they drove back home that evening. She was buzzing, erratic, and excited, like a new golden Labrador puppy being taken to its first home. She couldn’t sit still in her seat, and the questions started immediately as they got in the car. Her mother laughed softly to herself, a broad smile on her face. She, too, was in complete shock. She hadn’t expected the general of the US Army to be waiting outside her office for her, and she admitted she was a little flustered to be talking to him.
But he was ever so kind and assured her she wasn’t in any trouble for anything. It was the first thing many people thought of when the general stood directly in front of them—that they had done something to warrant his attention and punishment. It was quite far from the reason he was wanting to speak to her. He pulled her aside and quietly discussed his concern for her daughter. Her mother had sighed heavily and admitted she was exhausted from having to discipline a girl who had no respect for her own mother. Everything had come out in a rant. The skipping lessons, the smoking, drinking, and disrespect. The failing of her grades had been the topic of discussion, and James has simply offered to help tutor Violet until she is at a good enough level to study and take her exams.
Her mother was in shock, stammering over her words as she didn’t want to make a fuss of them. He was the general of the US Army; he had more important things to be doing than tutoring her reckless daughter. He laughed at that, assuring her that he had plenty of time to fit it in and admitting he could do with a break from army discussions. Besides, because he was the highest-ranking member, he could do whatever he wanted.
And when her mother had faced Violet and told her point blank what was going to happen, Violet exploded inside, jumping and screaming at the top of her lungs while she stood, held a straight face, and nodded silently. James had given her a side-eye look, a smirk on his lips, and a wink to his eye, and Violet felt that tingle. That addicting tingle she craved now was more than a smoke.
Which is why she was currently interrogating her mother, wanting to know every detail about her tutor sessions with the man she had been pursing over the last couple of days. How long was she going to be with him? What would he tutor her on? Where would he tutor her? She needed to know everything.
“He said he was happy to help out with some tutoring to help your grades. He said you mentioned it to him, which, by the way, you didn't tell me you had already met,” she questioned Violet.
“Oh well, I met him yesterday; I just forgot to mention it. Now back to the tutoring. Where is he going to tutor me, and for how long and how many nights?“ her mother asked her before any more questions could flood out.
“He didn’t say much, but he’s going to call me and let me know. I think this will be really good for you, Violet. It’s so nice of the general to spend his time with you. We should get him something to say thank you,” her mother said, but Violet wasn’t listening. All she could think about was her and James and that smile of his and his cockiness and authority. Her body was tingling all over, and she felt like she was about to explode. Her mother's voice was just a buzz in the background as they drove back home, and just as her mother parked up, Violet stormed out and legged it to her room, ignoring her mother's call to her. She slammed her bedroom door and threw herself on her bed, squealing with delight and kicking her legs at the excitement brewing inside her.
Her dreams and fantasies were coming true. What had she done to deserve this goodness? Perhaps it was because she ignored the craving for a cigerette the other night that had earned her this reward. And if that was what earned her the pleasure of being with James, she’d very much quit right now.
That night, Violet climbed into bed much earlier than normal. She wanted a quiet bedroom and a clear mind so she could focus on her thoughts about James. Anyone watching or knowing this would assume she was some sort of pyscho, an obsessor who was stalking the general of the United States Army. However, she was just a girl, a girl finding and discovering what it’s like to like someone, to want someone as much as she wanted James, to feel that spark and tingle everywhere she was near him. Was it his authority that she craved or his tender nature? Perhaps it was both, and it most likely was both, but now she was desperate for him, like an addict to their drug.
Violet closed her eyes and slowly drifted off into a deep fantasy. James was standing there, tall, handsome, and well presented, with his medals hanging off his uniform, perfect polished shoes, and that rich cologne that was like an intoxicating sedative drug that could make her obey and comply with any wish of his. His long, slender fingers reached up to cup her face and stroke her cheek, beautiful, soft, and tender. She was under his spell, and there was nothing she could do but obey.
As he moved closer, she took a quick breath in and gasped, staring up at him as he towered over her, his dark eyes looming with a slight softness to them, and he began to lean down, his hand creeping under her chin to tilt her head up at his silent command. He was leaning closer, and this was it. She was finally going to be able to taste him. His lips puckered, and he was inches away.
But the blaring sound of her alarm woke her out of her fantasy, out of her heaven, and she woke to bright sunlight beaming on her face. She groaned, slamming her hand on her phone before hiding under the covers. That was her only chance; she never gets to sleep now with the bright sunlight shining in her room. Oh, how she wished she hadn’t put her alarm on last night. She was devastated. She wanted to feel those soft lips on hers. Why is it that when you get to the good part, it falls away, slips out of your hand, and never comes back? But then a thought crossed her mind, and she grinned.
Violet stood in front of the mirror, brushing her hair one last time before chucking the hairbrush to the side and checking herself over. She wanted to look amazing for James. Which is why she spent the last two hours getting ready, curling her hair into soft waves, and washing the grease and grime out of her roots. She had sat and done her makeup for at least an hour, perfecting every little part of it, and lastly, applying some kissable lips that she hoped would tempt him slightly.
But she was sixteen—nearly seventeen—and he was probably in his thirties. She hadn’t asked yet, but she could tell he was much older, which only added to the excitement of everything. With her hair and makeup done, she spritzed herself with perfume and ran down the stairs in no time, too excited to contain it. As she bounced into the living room, her mother looked at her with confusion. She hadn’t seen her daughter this happy since... well, she couldn’t remember. For the past three years, there have been mood swings, constant battles, arguments, and everything else that comes with raising a teenager.
Her mother wasn’t sure whether to believe it or not. After so many years of misery, she suddenly became ecstatic, but something just didn’t seem right. But she wasn’t complaining, and she wasn’t going to ask a question. She’d much rather have this Violet than the miserable, sassy Violet she had to deal with for the past three years.
“Come on, mom, we need to go or we will be late,” she urged, and her mother grabbed her jacket and keys, and they headed to the car. Violet was buzzing inside. Her mother had spoken to James this morning and informed her she could drop Violet off after work and he would take her home. He was taking the time out of work hours to tutor her so it wouldn't interfere with his duties, and Violet certainly wasn’t complaining about it.
When her mother told her she had to hold in the scream she wanted to answer with, When her mother had left, she threw herself into the bed and screamed in delight into the pillow, throwing her legs on her bed like an excited child. Just her and James together. He was talking, and she was listening, looking, and learning. She was going to listen to every word he had to say, every piece of advice, and every word of wisdom. He was her teacher and she was his student, and if passing her exams and getting good grades would please him, then she’d do her darnest to pass.
Violet was like an excited child on their birthday, unable to contain the grin and excitement in her as her mother drove her to the base. It seemed a little strange that the general of the US army was going to be tutoring her on their army base, but he was the general, and he could do anything he wanted. He had authority over everyone, and if he decided he wanted to blow the whole place up, he could do so. If he decided to fire the entire staff, then he could do so. As they pulled up to the base, it was becoming more real, and Violet felt her stomach tighten with nerves this time. It was dark except for the food lights lighting the entryway and path down to the secure car park where her mother dropped Violet off.
“I’ll be back to pick you up in an hour and a half, and please be good, Violet; the general is taking time out of his busy schedule for you,” her mother warned. Oh, mother, you have nothing to worry about.
"Yes, mom,” Violet replied with a sass to her tone before scurrying off to the office base. James was waiting for her at the doorway, hands shoved in his pockets as he looked out for her. Since everywhere needed clearance and an ID badge, she wouldn’t get anywhere without one, so James had to be on the lookout for her. As she saw him up ahead, she sucked in a breath and plastered on a smile as she reached him. The second she was close enough to him, she could smell the beautiful cologne he wore. He was dressed in his usual uniform of dark green with the fancy meddles, his hair all shiny and long, tucked behind his ears, and a few strands loose around his head.
"Hi!” she grinned, unable to hold back her excitement.
“Good evening, Violet,” he smiled back with his polite greeting. His formality was still so sexy, and Violet stepped up the steps to stand as close as she could to James. She had to crane her neck backwards to look up at him as he towered over her.
“I trust your mother explained everything to you,” he said as he guided her into the base. It was quiet, and Violet suspected it was just the two of them. As they walked down the hall, with Violet clutching her bag tightly, she nodded quickly, grinning up at James.
"Yes, she did. Thank you again for this. It’s very kind of you to take your time out of your busy schedule to tutor me, Mr. Barnes.” Ordinarily, Violet would have threw an insult to her teachers, even going so far as to call them by their first names in front of them whenever they pissed her off. But not James. She had specifically called him that for both respect and because it sounded so hot coming off her lips. She would never utter those words to her other teachers, and a faint smirk appeared on his lips.
“It’s my pleasure. When you said you weren't doing so well, I wanted to help in any way I could. You're a good girl, Violet, and you can get the grades you want. I think just a bit of extra help is what you need,” he said down to her, and she nodded.
"Yes, sir,” she said, not arguing with him. And the fact that he called her a good girl made that spicy tingle run all the way up her body, and she wanted to moan. She had never been called a good girl before, and she desperately wanted to be called it again.
James led her to a small conference room on one of the upper floors, flicking on the lights and pulling out a chair for her to sit in. Violet quickly set her books out on the table and sat early in one of the chairs as James sat in the chair beside her, all long legs and arms, sitting comfortably.
"So what are you struggling with most? We can tackle one subject at a time. Depending on my schedule, I said to your mother that I’m happy to spend every night tutoring you until you feel comfortable, as long as I don’t have anything important to do. Being the general means important meetings here and there, so I apologise if I have to cancel,” he explained.
"Oh, it’s no bother, sir; I’m so grateful as it is for you helping me. I’m free all the time, so whenever it's best for you,” she smiled. She’d do anything on his terms.
“Good, now why don’t we start with math?” He reached over with a long arm and pulled her math textbook to him to begin flicking through. James was the perfect teacher. Taking his time to explain things to Violet in ways that made so much more sense than any of her teachers could have explained. She listened and nodded at his every word and command, and when he ordered her to do some equations, she sat and did them, looking for his approval on her answers and grinning as she got them right. He had scooted ever so slightly closer to her, his arm brushing hers, and Violet had to physically hold back the moan inside.
This was going to be harder than she thought. With James being all sexy and dominating, how was she going to concentrate? The way his fingers flicked over pages so elegantly, the paper snapping against the other pages, and his thumb grazing the corner. She couldn’t stop staring at his hands, and she herself had scooted closer to him, just to smell him even more and to get another touch out of him.
“How is this, sir?” she asked as she showed him her work. This Sir business had been a drastic change over night, and now she felt she couldn’t go back. The word just rolled off her tongue, and James seemed to enjoy it every time, slightly smirking as she spoke it so softly.
“Good, I think you’re finally getting it. Math has always been a tricky one, but sometimes you just need a different way of figuring it out,” he smiled, and she nodded.
“Thank you; none of my teachers would have ever taught me this method, and if you weren’t tutoring me, I would never get it,” she admitted, and she wasn’t lying. It was true that if she had carried on learning from her teachers, she would never pass, although that may have something to do with skipping class.
“There was something else I wanted to talk to you about, Violet. Your mother told me you’ve been skipping class and heading home early from school. I don’t want to sound like your mother, but you shouldn’t be skipping class. If you didn't, then your grades might not be failing,” he said, raising a brow at her, and she sighed. Fuck, for some reasons, she just couldn’t lie or act defensively. If this were her mother speaking to her, she would have thrown a fit at her, screamed, and shouted. But not James; no way could she speak to him like that.
“I know you're right; it’s just that I hate school; I never have done it and probably never will. All my teachers are dicks, and I just hate being in that environment, which is why I skip,” she shrugged, throwing her pen on the table in a huff.
“Look, growing up, everyone has skipped a lesson or two, even me. But skipping every lesson only means something negative. Detention, suspension, and failing grades. If you want to pass your exams, then you need to be in every lesson,” he advised, and Violet sighed heavily.
"Well, I fucking hate school, so that probably won’t happen,” she shrugged, and James raised his head slightly, looking down on her with hooded eyes.
“Why do you hate school?” He asked, and she shrugged again.
“I don’t know, I just do,” she murmured. She hated talking about feelings, why she hated school, and why she was the way she was.
“Violet, you know we are only trying to help you. You have such a smart mind and are so talented that I would hate to see it thrown away because you got into something you shouldn’t have. It may not look like it now, but I care about you.” This caught her attention right away, and she shot her head up, staring straight at him. Those words hit her like a thousand bullets, her heart squeezing and her stomach flipping like on a roller coaster.
“You do?” She asked with surprise, and he nodded with a smile.
“Of course, if I didn't, I wouldn’t be here tutoring you... Now come on, I want you to finish this page.” He tapped her book with a single finger, and she nodded, but not before a grin appeared on her lips.
That hour and a half went by too quickly, and her mother was going to be here soon. Violet stood as she packed her bag away, and James helped tidy up. “Thank you again, sir, for today; I really appreciate it,” she smiled, and James sauntered over, standing tall above her.
“Give me your cigarettes,” he ordered with a tone that wasn’t one to question. Violet looked up at him and giggled, thinking he was joking.
“Good one,” she said, but he wasn’t playing.
“I wasn’t joking,” he said seriously, and Violet looked up with wide eyes, blinking in confusion.
"Wait, are you being serious?” She said, and he nodded, holding out his hand.
“Yes, give me your cigarettes. I’m your tutor now, which means you’re my responsibility, and it’s my responsibility to make sure you don’t get in trouble for anything. You're too young to be smoking, and it stops now.” His tone had completely changed, and Violet was taken back.
“You can’t tell me what to do just because you're my tutor. I paid for these cigarettes myself,” she argued back with Sass.
“I don’t care; hand them to me now,” he ordered one last time before Violet groaned heavily and dug deep in her bag to get them. She slapped them in his palm, to which he placed them in his back pocket.
“Good girl, I told you I wouldn’t have you smoking on this property.”.
“I wasn’t going to smoke them here, just at school or at home,” she shrugged, and he tutted her.
“Even worse”.
“You know I can just get more,” she told him, and he smirked.
“I know, but not for long. Come on, your mother will be here soon,” he said as he brushed past her, and Violet looked at him confused. Huh, what did he mean by that?
Hey I hope you like this chapter, let me know what you think in the comments
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#sebastian stan#sebastian stan fanfiction#bucky barnes#james buchanan barnes#james bucky barnes#sebastian stan smut#bucky barnes fanficiton#bucky barnes smut#bucky barnes dom
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i really really like when i get to see rachel. so thank you for that.
you are welcome. here is another rachel doodle i just did, as a thank-you back!
#my ocs#catvn#rachel nobody#mimi#rachel's story i imagined would always be about a self-centered person learning to care for things outside of herself#she doesn't care about the world or about people or about anything really outside of her normal periphery#she doesn't even care about mimi. she's not her problem. but what's the point of anything if she can't even help one little girl...?
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it's so fascinating to me how little there is to work with if you want to go with the (most likely) intended reading of yashiro as a cis man. if you ignore what other characters are saying, all the instances of "bitch" being thrown at him, men comparing him to a woman as an insult, and just focus on his own feelings regarding his gender and masculinity, there's… nothing really? the few times when he explicitly says that he's not a woman go hand in hand with "therefore it's okay to hurt and abuse me, to be rough with me, to want to leave me, etc etc". the way he talks about men usually reads as "men and me" with a level of separation there. all the "what type of women do you like? is this how it is with women? are you gentle with women? women women women?" there's no attachment to being a man, not that i can see at least, so reading saezuru through the lenses of sexuality and gender rather than just sexuality is this weird experience of "i know what you want me to think, but thank you for leaving so much room for the other interpretation"
#sorry for spilling a bit of my trans yashiro agenda i just feel like i'd explode otherwise#like. she really didn't put anything in there. there is no “people don't see me as a man and it bothers me” or anything like that#and yes i know yashiro generally just doesn't care but still#i'm fully aware that we are not getting a “oops! the bl manga has always been about a closeted trans woman actually”#it's just the fact that there's NOTHING outside of the “this is the intent that you'd normally assume” that's so funny to me#i'm hoping that she doesn't touch on gender much so i could live in my own little world that Somehow magically doesn't go against canon#but even if she does then oh well. still valid reading up to this point at the very least and you can fight me on that idc#forcibly shutting myself up now but augh. head in hands.#saezuru tag
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[ " 𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐊 𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐂𝐔𝐓𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐒𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆! " ] — 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬
𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠(𝐬): luffy, robin, law, sanji, kidd × gn!reader
𝐢𝐧𝐟𝐨/𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: not proofread 'n quick, lots of fluff! they are all babies. (i KNOW kidd's crew raid fashion stores and complain about them if they're lackin. if. if there's a fic like that pls share in the comments. i BEG you.) also some swearing with kidd!! dripping divider by @ benkeibear like always,, i live for these dividers damn.
𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐊𝐄𝐘 𝐃. 𝐋𝐔𝐅𝐅𝐘
"you too!!"
you swear his smile widens so much his face is stuck that way.
he is adorable. he smiles every day but hearing you say that? it's exactly what he wants!! he wants people to look at him smiling AND wants them smiling in the process (continuous cycle,,)
it's so easy to notice just how much he loves you saying that. round cheeks tinted pink, eyes shut, and set of teeth shared to the world. he is always so animated with everything he does, and this is no exception.
this little rubber man is immediately engulfing you in his arms!! you are not allowed to leave until he says so.
"i'm gonna make you smile too! forever! that way, we'll both look cute when we smile! shishishi!"
scratch protecting him at all costs. he's gonna protect you at all costs.
if you tell him again, grab his cheeks and shake him as if he were a pupper. if he had a tail it'd be wagging 'till he flies. will probably make all types of noises while you do it.
pat the boi.
𝐍𝐈𝐂𝐎 𝐑𝐎𝐁𝐈𝐍
her smile might be tender but she's giggling internally,, she's flattered!!
"is that so? i'm glad to hear that."
robin gained confidence growing up and she knew she was a gorgeous woman — but hearing it from your lips is still a surprise. sure, she gets compliments on the daily, especially by sanji, but... yours felt much more intimate. she's not blushing because she's flustered or anything, it's just because she loves you. and that comforting warmth in her chest propagated to her neck and face.
it's small moments such as this that remind her of saul's words. each day on the sunny is a reminder, but the little things reinforce those feelings. it was such a wonderful sentiment.
you had no idea what she was thinking about, but the way the corners of her lips eased, your heart jumped too.
she really did look cute while smiling.
"you look pretty, too. smile more often, dear."
she's so lucky to have you. and you're so lucky to have her.
𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐅𝐀𝐋𝐆𝐀𝐑 𝐃. 𝐖𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐋𝐀𝐖
dies
you think he looks... cute?
his eyes widen and he just. stops functioning for a moment. his heart feels lighter and funnier than normal, and his smile returns, a bit more timid than before.
"... really?"
"of course!"
he doesn't even believe it— he did notice from time to time how you suddenly just,, softened when he did it but he didn't think you'd like it that much. he doesn't smile a lot, sure there are definitely various moments where he feels at peace with the crew, but they come easier with you
when he showed you his coin collection, when you both took a stroll or when you simply cuddled. law might look scary to those outside — but inside, he is still the small boy whose curiosity shined above all. he is very fond of those he cares about, even if he has trouble expressing his emotions and thoughts to others. the confidence he wore doubled for you and his loyal crewmates, but he deserved rest every once in a while. years of trauma dulled him, however, when he felt something, it was strong; almost as if breaking out of a cage. he kept them deep inside, only to burst and even tremble when he was pampered. he didn't know how to react, and only with time would he grow used to it.
so,, please be patient and take care of him,, he looks after himself with everything else, but he's a lost puppy with love and physical affection. if it doesn't show on his face, his heart definitely speeds up at every small thing you tell him, casual or not.
"thank you."
you see him smile a bit more now. give him any type of compliment, affection, or anything,, and the "cold" surgeon of death will be nothing but putty in your hands.
"and... you too."
he really does love you.
𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐌𝐎𝐊𝐄 𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐉𝐈
dies 2.0
"o- oh... my love! you look adorable smiling, too!"
never-ending swarm of compliments. oh and he's hugging you as if his life depends on it.
he's not really used to the sweet words and might think he's undeserving of them. sure, it's a simple smile... but that's exactly why it gets him so much. something so mundane and common yet you see a unique beauty in his and his alone. others can warm your heart too, but he does it in a different way — in a special way.
if you tell him this in the middle of the night and you're both having a calm and peaceful moment he might cry. (if it's daytime and he's feeling a lil sensitive it's tears of joy mixed with laughter,, please hold him)
he's so happy. he'll smile as much as you want him too. if that gets you to do so too, it's a win-win for everyone!
it's usually clear when he feels affectionate,, he is most of the time. but now it DOUBLES. that comment made his day.
he's so giddy and adorable.
"you light my world up, mon rayon de soleil. if i can do so too with a simple smile... then i shall every day."
𝐄𝐔𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐒𝐒 𝐊𝐈𝐃𝐃
mf's smile never dropped so fast.
"the fuck do you mean CUTE??"
was about to throw a fit but then he just. stares at you. so genuine...
"why you lookin' at me like that?? stop. 'm not fuckin' cute."
staaaare...
"... zero point one percent cute. happy? now stop looking like a goddamn puppy."
but you end up smiling even more. and no matter what he thought, his heart still beat a little faster. you looked pretty cute, too.
yes. he's a bit mean sometimes but you know he means well. he's your little man. like, he made you a tiny metal butterfly once so that even if he was busy with designing and crafting you had something to remind you of him. (he sputtered profanities and became as red as his hair before storming off walking in a wall but he still peeked from a corner to see if you liked it. when he saw your pleased expression, he smirked like the lil shit he is.)
plus... deep inside, he appreciated it. you and killer always managed to calm him down.
he truly is grateful.
"urgh. c'mere. let's go get killer 'n the others to raid a store."
...
bonus after the raid: he does your makeup and uses a great lipstick he stole found to really make you pop with the looted new clothes he got for you. hyped you up and grinned like an idiot. he's doing your nails next. killer gave you a thumbs up before finding more products himself,, raiding stores sure is fun!
#one piece x reader#one piece x you#one piece imagine#one piece scenario#monkey d luffy x reader#luffy x reader#luffy x you#luffy x y/n#nico robin x reader#nico robin x you#nico robin x y/n#trafalgar law x y/n#trafalgar d law x reader#trafalgar law x reader#law x reader#vinsmoke sanji x reader#sanji x reader#eustass kid x reader#kid x reader#eustass x reader
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big fan of the headcanon that simon riley is hard to get.
if we're being realistic, he's probably gotten very good at ignoring any inclination he might have towards a person in the years since his families' murder. it's easier to function as a soldier, as ghost, when he doesn't have to carry the burden of concern for someone so vulnerable. whether it's worrying about their safety while he's on deployment and can't afford to, or otherwise repressing his darker tendencies in an effort not to break them; the extra effort just isn't worth it to him. he won't seek you out, he won't take care of you, he won't reassure and coddle and communicate.
and he's not blind, nor is he passionless. he can appreciate a pretty face when one happens to pass by, but that's pretty much the extent of it. he's gotten used to the scorch of the lonely flame that flickers inside of him. if anything, he thinks putting it out and tending to the burns left in its wake would be a more traumatic ordeal than just letting it consume him.
so for him to accept love, it'd have to sneak up on him.
it happens with johnny first. he's the natural candidate, of course. his stubborn subordinate, clever with a fixated loyalty and quick wit – who better than him to get under ghost's skin?
granted, he isn't as guarded around him as he would've been with a civilian. not as cold upon introduction because he doesn't need to be. soap's a soldier, and this is work, and he's confident enough in the sergeant's resilience that it doesn't hinder his routine. he doesn't have to make accommodations, bend backwards or wake up in a cold sweat concerned about the man's wellbeing; not at first, anyway. and such are the floodgates that allow him to embrace johnny's company.
jokes crackled over comms. sitting next to each other on the airlifter. claps on the back after a successful operation. trust in every decision he chooses to take, regardless of whether or not he agrees. he thinks about johnny's eyes, johnny's smile, johnny's fierce little pout and the scar on his chin – but everything in moderation. the perfectly healthy amount. passing appreciation of his best mate's features and nothing more. it's the only meaningful connection he's had in years, and so what if he tugs his cock to the thought of it? people have cum to less.
until the bastard gets himself shot in the liver on solo reconnaissance in cyprus, and almost dies on medevac.
because when ghost gets that call from price – soap's hurt. it's looking grim. – he's wracked with a terror so acute he thinks his heart has given up on him. it's about the worst way to find out that he considers johnny as more than a friend. this sheer desperation, longing, regret. he ponders over it in the plane, tries to scrub the dread from his being. tries to pick apart what went wrong, what makes the sergeant so special.
by the time he reaches the hospital, he's already accepted defeat. all it takes is one look at johnny in his hospital bed – features peaceful, bandages wrapped around his bare chest, mohawk and facial hair grown out – to understand that this isn't going away anytime soon. he'll just have to make his peace with it. readjust to accommodate the protective flare already sparking in his chest.
it's a hassle, but manageable. despite his injury, johnny's still a competent man. they already know how to function in bouts of high stress. they're good– great friends. all this is really is an opportunity for simon to finally dig his cock within an ass he's been eyeing for months – or at least, that's the rationale he uses to come to terms.
and then you arrive. and things get a whole lot more complicated.
johnny's bird, apparently – gaz whispers to him outside of the inpatient room, watching through the window as you fret over the comatose man's pillows – didn' know he had one. m'surprised. you'd think a loudmouth like him would let the world know. she's cute too. really, ghost, did you have any idea?
he can't find it in him to respond, opting instead to march back into the room. you're fussing too much, causing a scene, no doubt disturbing the air with the nervous energy radiating off you in waves.
"he isn' supposed to be elevated like tha'," simon scolds, inflating a bit when you straighten up, eyes blowing wide with distress.
"oh... i just thought- he gets all hot when he lays on his back like this. i wanted him to be comfortable."
he knows that he's being cruel. you've done absolutely nothing to deserve the harsh glare he shoots your way, nor should you be expected to handle it. your eyes are red-rimmed, puffy like you've been crying on the way over. no doubt unused to crises like this one. he should be a help, not another source of stress.
besides. johnny's your boyfriend, not his. he has no reason to be so territorial. he'd only just discovered his feelings eight hours ago.
but–
"are you a doctor?"
"n-no."
"then it's best you keep your opinion to yourself."
he just can't help himself.
over the next week, ghost treats you with nothing more than cold disregard. he side-eyes you when you cry, wakes you up with rough pokes to your shoulder once visiting hours close, and takes every chance to one-up you when it comes down to who knows johnny better. you've got a leg up in the domestic department, but simon knows that nothing can surpass the borderline psychic bond they've built, and he makes sure to emphasise it whenever he can. and fuck, does it annoy him that you take it with grace every time, nodding receptively as though his input is meant to be more than just a searing critique of your shortcomings.
his behaviour doesn't go unnoticed, either. gaz is infinitely perplexed to see that the usually controlled lieutenant is so quick to lose his temper around you, despite your earnest efforts to not be a nuisance, and all price offers are long, disapproving looks that have him itch uncomfortably in his seat.
on the other hand, you must believe that he's just like that – foul mouthed, disparaging, mean – because you don't take it to heart. you remain pleasant, gentle, if not a little bit emotional. never once do you raise your voice at him, or fight back when he extends a particularly hurtful comment. on the occasion that his attitude grows to be too much for you, all you do is slip on a pair of noise-cancelling headphones and spread out your textbooks to spend the evening studying on the other side of the room. not keen on making amends, or discovering the source of simon's malcontent, but not affected by it either. you're peaceful. conflict averse. a good girl.
then, you come back one day with a tupperware of cookies.
"i made them myself last night. couldn't sleep, so..." you shrug, holding it out towards him. he assesses them, assesses you, roving over your chapped lips and hollow under-eyes. when did you get to look so defeated?
"no." he looks away, back to the unconscious man in front of him. in his periphery, your shoulders deflate, and he doesn't know what compels him to add the quiet "thanks."
"you've been here every hour of every day. i don't think i've seen you eat. um–" you dodge his gaze when it shoots to you. you've never tried to hold a conversation before now, have always accepted his gruff responses as an indication to leave him alone. he wonders why you can't catch the hint now. "just- let me know if you change your mind. they're shortbread."
and that's the end of it. at least until an hour later:
you're sitting on your armchair, directly across the bed from him, staring blankly at johnny when you speak up. "lieutenant?"
ghost doesn't remember introducing himself to you. he doesn't respond, but clenches his jaw to let you know he's listening.
"he's been comatose for a while." you warble. meaningless chatter. he sees it for what it is: talking so you don't cry. seeking reassurance in someone who knows how these things go.
"hm."
"is this how it usually-"
"sometimes."
"oh."
"he'll be alright." simon adds. more for himself than for you, but your lip wobbles like it's exactly what you needed to hear.
a few moments later, you speak up again.
"he holds you in such high regard, y'know."
he didn't. his heart aches as he follows the rise and fall of johnny's chest, finds solace in it, calming himself before he rips the hair from his skull. he can't speak, can't muster a rude dismissal, or any hatred for you. not anymore. this hospital has sucked the soul from him, as it seems to have done with you.
"he'll be happy to know you've stuck to his side." you smile, stirring from your seat and slinging your bag over your shoulder. "i have to go, got an exam tomorrow. i'll leave the cookies here in case you crave one."
you're halfway out when simon replies. "good luck."
and he's on his third cookie when johnny finally wakes. by then, he's already made up his mind. it's revelation he comes to much faster than the first.
if he can't have just johnny, he'll take you both.
#i ran out of steam towards the end could you tell#ghostsoap#simon 'ghost' riley x reader#simon 'ghost' riley x reader x johnny 'soap' mactavish#johnny 'soap' mactavish x reader#ghostsoap x reader#simon 'ghost' riley x johnny 'soap' mactavish#call of duty
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୨♡ Ｗｉｎｔｅｒ Ｋｉｎｇ ＨＣＳ ♡୧
I am ashamed of tumblr for not making more fanfic of this funky fruit.
We got some general HCS and then some romantic ones under the cut! (I went a little overboard with the romantic ones, hehe!)
Gender-neutral
୨♡ Ｇｅｎｅｒａｌ ♡୧
-Man's self care routine is off the charts
-I'm serious, he has like- 80 different bubble bath concoctions.
-Smells like mint
-or some kind of cold scent.
-I feel like he loves dressing up fancy, so he has a closet full of sparkly suits
-maybe even some dresses if he's feeling special.
-Doesn't actually need to wear glasses, he just likes how they look.
-While he loves his winter wonder world, I feel like he'd enjoy rainy weather more than snow.
-He got rid of all his madness and sadness, yes, but I think he'd cry at something especially cute. Happy tears, y'know?
"Why are you crying, sir? Are you okay?"
"Oh, it's nothing. *sniff* Just those two rabbits that are cuddling."
-He is really bad at any percussion instrument
-like.. REALLY bad.
-His hands are too delicate for such a garish instrument as the drums!
-He loves playing duets on the piano, but rarely has anyone to play with.
-I mean, he could always concoct up an ice creature to play piano with him, but that's honestly quite dull.
-His favorite movie would probably be an old Christmas movie, like It's a Wonderful Life.
-He gets kidnapped by the Candy Queen so often, that occasionally he brings a book or something snuggly to help him wait for his ice scouts to rescue him.
-He once got so bored while kidnapped that he tried to read to some of the mutilated candy people
-That was the last time he saw his favorite book.
-Safe to say he doesn't bring his favorites anymore.
୨♡ Ｒｏｍａｎｔｉｃ ♡୧
-Will literally spoil his love interest rotten.
-You want that thing you saw earlier?
-Consider it yours
-You'd like for it to snow outside?
-A sprinkle or a blizzard?
-Literally anything, this man will go to the ends of the universe to get you what you'd like.
-Love languages are definitely gift giving and physical touch
-probably acts of service too.
-Loves dancing.
-Loves dancing.
-Whether it be a slow dance or ice-skating, he will take every opportunity to dance with you!
-He adores short people.
-Good, because he's tall as a giant.
-if you're shorter than him, he will no doubt use you as an armrest.
-He always makes remarks on how cute you are.
-Even if you're only two inches shorter than him.
-If you're taller...
-hoo boy.
-Expect him to be all over you.
-figuratively and literally.
-Will want you to carry him everywhere, sit in your lap, rest against you, whatever.
-Just let him touch you.
-He'll talk about how strong you are, how you'd be the perfect chair, etc. etc.
-He does the stupid "How's the weather up there?" jokes.
-Loves your body, no matter what it looks like.
-You're skinny?
-You're easy to carry around and dance with.
-You're chubby or fat?
-Literally will always be holding onto or resting on part of you. He loves squishy people.
-Somewhere in the middle?
-He could not care less. He loves you regardless of what you look like.
-And he makes sure to emphasize his point by complimenting you endlessly.
-He will never leave your side.
-Even if you need space, he doesn't.
-So why wouldn't you?
-Back to our regularly scheduled fluff-
-Candy Queen hates your guts.
-She thinks you're an obstacle, keeping her from the Winter King.
-No doubt tries to kill you.
-Multiple times. a day
-Her plans are always foiled, but if she gets too close to genuinely hurting you, Winter will be so upset.
"Oh, Dearest, please tell me you're okay!"
"You are?"
"Phew. I don't know what I'd do if you were hurt in any way."
-His petnames for you are probably
-Darling,
-Dearest,
-My love,
-There are a lot more, but those are the main ones.
-LOVES kissing you.
-Anytime, any way.
-He finds it adorable when his nose bumps your face.
-Favorite place to kiss would probably be the back of your hand.
-He is a gentleman after all.
-Overall, he just adores you.
-And he sincerely hopes you love him just as much as he does you.
Headcanon requests are open for Winter King! Don't be afraid to send an ask, and be shameless! I know I am! (No smut tho. Some spice is okay, however.)
Have some free WK art for coming this far!
reblog for a beginner writer?
#winter king x reader#gumy writes#x reader#adventure time#fionna and cake#winter king#the winter king#adventure time x reader#headcanons#my headcanons#fandom#he's so babygirl#fionna and cake x reader#winter king fanart#winter king x male reader#winter king x female reader#winter king x gn reader#brainrot
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there was a lot of mistakes made in the live action but the worst one without reservation was that the creators did not understand patriarchy and they did not understand women's liberation outside of an american context ( or any context if we're being honest )
it's easy to see on a surface level how that fucked up katara's whole character how she wasn't allowed to have her character defining moments how she wasn't allowed to be angry or even excited or impulsive but i think it doesn't really become clear how deeply wrong the show's conception of gender & patriarchy is (and the implications for the political landscape of the show) until you get into how they destroyed sokka's character too
sokka's whole Complex is born of patriarchy. i'm not trying to do men's rights advocacy here but in my experience when a people is under constant threat, constant assault, constant violence (much of which is gendered) and the traditional "protectors" or "providers" of that people are men, the masculine role becomes protecting women and children. i am not saying this is a good thing or a bad thing but it is true the narrative of violent resistance is overwhelmingly about men. to be a man in a time & place like this means fighting to protect your women, & to die for them is honorable. that is where sokka gets this idea that he has to be a warrior & he has to fight & if necessary die for katara & the rest of the tribe. it's about duty. everyone has a part to play, a role to fill
everyone including women! which is the other half of this. the duty of women is to keep up the home, to maintain a country worth fighting & dying for, to raise children so that the community can have a future. it becomes especially obvious in the context of the show when you see how the nwt lives & in specific how yue lives and dies.
many women participate in patriarchy. many colonized women participate in patriarchy. most of my family comes from or still lives in a country completely devastated by colonialism & its aftereffects & many women in my family believe wholeheartedly in the idea that everyone in the house has a role to play. it's not because these women are stupid or they hate themselves. but when you grow up believing that men & women are fundamentally different, and seeing that women are in specific danger because of their gender, it actually makes a lot of sense to expect the men in your family to protect you, and to raise your sons that way.
in practice that means that men aren't really expected to do anything around the house, especially when there's no actual danger. my aunt literally 2 days ago told me this lol like she doesn't make her sons do anything bc she wants to let their lives be easy before they have to go out into the world & take care of their wives & children.
what does women's liberation look like when an entire community is under threat? colonized women have been dealing with this question as long as colonialism has existed. the writers of this show don't even pretend to understand the question, much less to formulate a thoughtful response to it. they just say oh, well, katara, yue, & suki are all the exact same type of liberated girlboss for whom patriarchy is no significant obstacle.
which brings us back to sokka lol. sokka, at the beginning of the show, has completely subscribed to patriarchy, has integrated it into his sense of self. he has a lot of flaws, but he also has a lot of really good traits. his bravery, sense of honor, loyalty, work ethic, selflessness, all of this came from him striving to be a good man. he would die to protect katara, because she's his sister. he also has her wash his socks & mend his clothes, because she's his sister. even after he meets suki, humbles himself, & expands his view of the role a woman can play, he doesn't completely disengage from patriarchy. at the end of the day he believes in his soul that a good man's duty is to fight & if necessary die for his people, & that's exactly his plan. this is a very real psychic burden. pre-aang, it's also largely fictional & completely ridiculous. we're SUPPOSED to think it's ridiculous. he's spending his time training babies & working on his little watchtower. the swt hasn't been attacked since their mother was killed because it has been completely stripped of all value or danger it once held for the fire nation, & everybody knows this. there is very little "men's work" left, aside from hunting & fishing, which is so damaging to sokka's self image he resorts to toddler bootcamp to feel useful. the contradiction here is comical. it's also completely devastating. that's supposed to be the fucking POINTTTT like colonialism & patriarchy convinces this young boy he needs to be a soldier & die for his family. & you know what he does? He acts like a young boy about it. they didn't just leave this unexplored in the remake they completely changed the circumstances to 1. make sokka incompetent for some reason 2. make his "preparations" seem less ridiculous. Which ruins the whole character. Possibly the whole show.
all this makes the writing of katara & the other women infinitely more offensive to me. katara is a good character because she believes in revolution. she wants to liberate her people from imperialism, & she wants to liberate women from colonial gendered violence, traditional patriarchy in her own culture, & the complicated ways those things interact. it is LITERALLY the first thing you're supposed to learn about her. she's the PERFECT vehicle to address the question of women's liberation under colonialism. one of the things i was most looking forward to seeing in this show was how labor is distributed in a place where almost everything that needs to get done is "women's work" & how it affects katara & sokka's day to day relationship when their lives weren't at risk constantly. what actually are her responsibilities every day, & how do they compare to sokka's? how does her grandmother enforce these traditions with katara & sokka, & how is that informed by her own experiences in the nwt? what does patriarchy look like in a tribe made up of mostly women & children? it's so important to who katara is & what she believes! but why bother exploring any of that when u could instead make her a shein model who has nothing in common with the source material except her hairstyle lol.
yue is actually even worse to me bc yue is supposed to be sokka's counterpart. she's supposed to show you how destructive it is for women specifically to internalize this gendered duty so completely. it sucks for sokka, but he is a man & thus his prescribed role gives him some agency. yue's role affords her no agency whatsoever, & this is the POINT. to make her someone who's allowed to break things off with her fiance if she likes, who sneaks off to do what she wants when she's feeling stressed, whose will is respected as a monarch, like what is even the point of yue anymore? in the original the whole reason she was even allowed to spend time with sokka was because her father knew she was with a trustworthy boy. her story completely loses all significance when the dimension of patriarchy is removed from it. the crux of her whole story is that she is not just a princess but the literal & spiritual representation of the motherland. that's what women are supposed to represent during wartime, at the cost of their own sense of self. in order to fulfill her duty to her people she gives her life to them in every single way that matters.
it's just so unbelievably frustrating (and WRONG) that the only types of characters for these writers are "soulless misogynistic fuck" and "liberated american-style feminist." there's no nuance at all! they don't bother exploring how real love manifests in patriarchal communities, & how patriarchy defines the limits of that love. or how for so many of these people their idea of goodness, morality, & honor is gendered. or how imperialism affects not just individuals but entire cultures & their conceptions of gender. but why do any actual work when you could completely change sokka & katara's general demeanors, their entire personalities, & their roles in the tribe so you can dodge any & all nuance
Anyways. in conclusion. it was bad
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List of the truths shared in Nana Morri's Honesty trial (C3E79):
Imogen: I am genuinely scared to meet my mom again.
Laudna: Deep down inside, both Delilah and I want the shard...Fearne should have it, but I don't know anymore what's my opinion or desires or feelings, or hers.
Imogen: I love Laudna deeply but I'm disgusted at the thought of Delilah looking at us all the time.
Orym: I'm super lonely all the time, especially at night. It doesn’t matter if I'm bunking with one of you guys.
FCG: Sometimes I pity some of you because you have beating hearts and opportunities and you don’t do enough with them...Chetney, you have so much love to give and it doesn't seem like you're interested in anything other than wood! There's people out there who you could love and experiences you could share with someone else, but all you care about is wood!
Orym: I've always kind of laughed it off but I guess I do kind of wonder if Chetney is my dad.
Ashton: I am the reason that the Jiana Hexum robbery went fucking wrong, and the reason why I got thrown out of a fucking window.
Fearne: I feel like we’re very ill-equipped for this job and we're going to fail at saving the world. (Laudna: Honestly that's probably true, I'm right there with you.)
Chetney: While wood may be the superior material to metal, I do fear that, with the dwindling interest in it, that children will find my toys - and thereby myself - obsolete every year I grow older.
FCG: I think it's something buried deep down in my circuitry, but every time I hurt or kill something - it feels really good. It makes me sort of relax a little bit and some of my stress goes away.
Imogen: I know we're supposed to save the gods, but I've tried talking to them my whole life and none of them would ever respond. I think I'm tainted. I dont know if I want to save gods that don't love me.
Laudna: You know we could rip-cord out of [saving the world] at any moment...right? And sometimes I fantasize about it all the time.
Fearne: I sometimes do stuff to you guys while you're sleeping - not weird stuff, I just like to look at you closely...and maybe like, twiddle your hair or braid it. Nothing bad!
Ashton: Whenever it starts to get quiet, I start worrying that one of us - most of us - are going to end up killing another one of us accidentally...I have panicked thinking about when one you kills another one of us.
Orym: I have all the faith in the world in you guys...and I have also spent time thinking of how to neutralize each of you.
FCG: I kinda worry that I put all my eggs in the Changebringer basket and she might betray us all. I had a really weird conversation with her and I think she's just out for herself and she might not really care about me - but what if she does? And I'm saying horrible things?
Imogen: Fearne, I was really disappointed in you for running away from your power. You should take the shard!
Orym: I really miss Dorian, and sometimes I think that's okay, and sometimes I think it isn't.
Ashton: I feel fucking worse that I just fucked up Fearne's life way more than mine and I should've died instead of that happening.
Chetney: I grew up in the Bramblewood outside of Westruun, and when I was a kid, I came back from learning how to make toys and found that my whole family had left. All they left behind were toys. They ran when Errevon the Rimelord was running across the plains, and so I'm kind of afraid of dragons. And I had five siblings - Alabaster, Pepper, Sugarplum, Hermey, and Chad - and I was so mad that they left I never looked for any of them, and now I'm pretty sure they're dead. So I think any family I have is just gonna look for a reason to leave me. That's why I don't get attached to anybody.
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I saw a few of those "bg3 characters driving a car" headcanons and decided to do one myself for fun.
Lae'zel: She learned how to drive on the opposite side of the road from everyone else and her instincts are all wrong for her current location, but back home she's an excellent driver with a spotless driving record. She actually follows the service schedule in the car manual. She gets incensed at people who don't maintain their vehicle properly or who disobey road rules. Her car is immaculately clean. She would love to speed a motorcycle down one of those desert highways with no speed limit, but she's never gotten the opportunity and knows it's too reckless besides. But she wants to.
Karlach: She's had a motorcycle for ages and is a skilled if aggressive driver. However, she only recently learned how to drive a car. She is very enthusiastic about it and always volunteers to drive even though she's not very good yet. She's one of those people that do driving "pranks" like swerving back and forth to make people shriek/laugh, or doing "3, 2, 1 BLASTOFF" and gunning it. Could easily be provoked into an impromptu street race. Drives way too far on empty or with the check engine light on.
Shadowheart: Drives stick so that no one else can drive her car. It's a beat up old station wagon with a busted tail light and looks like shit on the outside, but inside she turned it into a goth mobile with like black velvet seat covers and stuff. She named the car but she won't tell you what. She has an air freshener hanging from the rear view mirror that smells like night orchids. She's a perfectly good boring driver with nothing to note about it UNTIL one day a cop tries to pull her over for her busted tail light and she hits the gas and pulls out all these street racing moves that you had no idea she was capable of and shakes the cop. She'll let you pick the music but if she doesn't like it her silent disapproval is so withering that you voluntarily change it to something she does like.
Astarion: Never got a driver's license and isn't about to get one now. Passenger princess who likes to control the radio but his taste in music sucks. He makes funny mean comments about other drivers and pedestrians. He'll complain if you ask him to fill the gas tank but he'll do it; you're paying for it, though. Actually pretty fun to go on a road trip with because he doesn't care about stuff like "making good time" and he's up for stopping anywhere that looks like it might be entertaining.
Gale: Never got a driver's license because he was always too busy with his studies to care and his mom drove him around and/or did all his errands for him anyway. He's real good at maps though and likes to be helpful by being the navigator. He's the smartest man in the world but he's completely stymied by a gas pump; you're better off pumping the gas yourself and sending him into the gas station for snacks. He always manages to conjure a full meal out of convenience food, somehow, and he's really good at feeding you while you drive.
Wyll: He saved up and bought his own fixer-upper car after getting kicked out of the house as a teenager. Good driver in general. People always think he would make a good designated driver, but actually he likes drinking socially and will politely decline requests to be the DD unless there's no one else available. Sometimes when he's having a bad day he blasts music really loud and finds a deserted area to just fuckin tear ass down as fast as he can go (he'll only do this alone and doesn't tell anyone about it). Never lets you pay for gas even if you offer. Will pick up hitchhikers.
Halsin: Has been driving the same car since 1973. Drives that specific car really well. If you gave him a modern car he would have no idea what anything on the dashboard does. Honestly, he prefers to walk or bike anyway.
Jaheira: Has a fuck-off huge SUV full of empty cans and wrappers from her kids. Absolute maniac of a driver who tailgates and speeds with no regard for road signs or lane markings. She is going to GET where she is GOING and gods help you if you get in the way.
Minsc: Failed the driving test three times and just gets rides from Jaheira. This does not bother him in the slightest. He tells you that Boo can drive vehicles you've never even heard of.
Minthara: Has run someone over on purpose.
#bg3#bg3 headcanons#bg3 party#do i need to tag all these idiots#lae'zel#karlach#shadowheart#astarion#gale#gale dekarios#wyll#wyll ravengard#halsin#jaheira#minsc and boo#minthara#does this count as#bg3 meta#lol#raphael doesn't drive he has a chauffeur#the chauffeur is haarlep who was paid by mephistopheles to drive his dumb shit kid around and pretend like he's not getting paid
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Hard Carry CL16 - 01. It's 2018, Baby!
Pairings: Charles Leclerc x driver!reader
Summary: It's the big year of 2018 and y/n is looking forward to win her fourth championship title. A pretty boy with green eyes won't distract her damnit!
Word Count: 4.5k
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2012
When Formula One fans talked about paid driver, they said that the position can go either two ways.
The first one, is being proven unworthy for the seat. With the highly competitive nature that the sport serves, it will only took one race, one qualifying, only one bad day, to show the world that you don't have enough experience or talent to deserve a seat in Formula One. That the reason why you're one of the top drivers in the pinnacle of motorsport is because daddy's got money.
Unfortunately - to the fans, or even to the said paid driver themselves - this scenario is often the case.
It is such a bad branding for rookie to have. To be branded as a spoiled and talentless kid that doesn't know how to do anything without the help of their famously wealthy parents. For someone that ha just entered the sport, for someone that is still searching for fans and sponsors, this kind of branding can be the death of their career.
Yet, why is there so many paid driver when the risk is evident?
The second scenario, is the most unlikely one. Though, it is still possible.
There is a probability that a paid driver can enter the sport, and show the world that they're as talented as y/n l/n, just like what she did back in 2012 when she famously entered Formula One because her dad bought the Porsche Formula One team.
It was such a controversy back then, for such a young driver - a female driver, something that the sport had never seen in decades - to easily enter the pinnacle of motorsport with the large monetary support from her dad. Back then, when it was not revealed yet that her dad had bought the team, many had anticipated her debut. When the news came out, many had muttered things like-
"Maybe she's just that talented?"
"She did won a lot of trophies in the lower category."
"Who cares? It's a sign that Formula One is finally evolving!"
"Bet she got a lot of skills."
And well, y/n does have skills. People had actually anticipated her arrival at first, saying that it’s time for Formula One to change and she will be the one to start the change.
Though back in 2012, that was not the reason why she managed to get into Formula One. Her dad, a famous billionaire from France, had bought the Porsche Formula One team and gave one of the seat for his daughter.
Cue, the many controversy.
Now, when she looked back, y/n really have to admit that the online and offline attack that she had received back then was simply atrocious. News outlets and magazines would print photos of her without her knowing, calling her a spoiled princess who is throwing tantrum and making Formula One a joke to the eyes of everyone.
Sport critics would make a whole segment with previous or current Formula One stars to talked about her. Many calling her undeserving, talentless, and many many sexist slurs that she doesn't even want to remember anymore.
While, okay, being a paid driver, it’s obvious that controversy will always follow. Thought, back then, she had thought, if she was a man, would the controversy became this big?
Paid drivers, after all, is known secret to everyone who watches the sport. Formula One is an expensive sport to start with, so it's no wonder that many people from a privileged background would start using Formula One as a chance for them to have a career outside of their wealthy family.
And don't get her started with drivers who has connections with retired Formula one Drivers!
At least half of the grid is the son or a friend or a family friend of a retired driver. If you want to talk about the sport with the most nepotism, y/n thinks that Formula One is up there.
Though, her controversy got blown up this big just because she has one thing that separates her from the rest.
She's a girl.
A girl who has no space in the world of motorsport.
Someone who doesn’t have balls hanging between her legs and somehow, it made people think that she’s less than them.
Honestly? Fuck them.
She knows the world of Motorsport. She knows, if her dad didn’t bought the team, there is no way her dream to become a Formula One driver will come true. No matter how much they preach about equality, women in sport, or even feminism, there is no way any of these teams will even look at her.
How can she get into the sport when no one will give her a chance? When everyone in this goddamn sport will always think that the world of Motorsport is only for men and she has no place Ini it? It’s only fair for her to use her advantage so that she somehow can have an equal ground with everyone else here.
During the start of the 2012 season, y/n is already in a bad mood from the start.
She fucked her qualifying. So fucking badly. She honestly thinks it's because of the added pressure from the press as well as the pre-race jitters that she had, almost throwing up in the garage due to how fucking nervous she is. All of those added, and yes, the result is a really bad qualifying.
P10 honestly is a really bad position when you have a car like Porsche. After all, her other teammate, Antonio Bacque, managed to snag P3 during the qualifying.
It's an embarrassing result and she really hates it. It doesn't take a genius to figure out that y/n was going to be eaten by the media with that kind of result.
Her first interview ever since the announcement of her position was with some famous sport channel. Y/n knows them, considering the've been blasting a lot of her controversies and 'questionable' behaviors for their viewer to watch.
So she should've expected the question that they had prepared just for her.
"What do you think about your path towards Formula One?" asked the woman, blonde hair and seems to be older than her for a couple of years. "Do you think that you still deserve the seat without the help of your father?"
She had froze, eyes flicking towards he PR manager who also got her eyes widened. It seems, the interviewer had asked her a question that was not previously approved by her team. Illegal? She doesn't know. Nor she cares.
After all, she's really fucking exhausted at this point.
There are too many glances and cameras towards her way. Too many layered questions and fake empathy from those around her. Too many, judgmental look from those who doesn't even know her personally.
Y/n is tired.
"Yes," she said, staring straight back at the camera. "Yes I deserve it."
"How so?" pressed the reporter once again. Fully knowing that she's a paid driver. Fully knowing that she had just fucked her qualifying up. Fully knowing, that she haven't shown the world her skills.
Yet.
The female stared at the camera, she's aware that her next answer will be the headline of every major sports channels the next day. That this answer can be the one to make or break her career. A brand, that will stuck to her until her retirement.
Should she play the part of a spoiled child? Or should she play the part of a hothead driver with a too big ambition? She could play with the male fantasy and become a docile and demure little girl with too much naiveté in this cruel cruel world of motorsport. To become the doll for this sport to play with without care in this world.
But she's better than that.
She's y/n l/n and knows she's worth more than those fake personas and branding. She knows that she deserves her seat and she will be damned if she didn't prove it to the world.
"Like this,"
And, she gave them the middle finger.
In the end, all of those criticism changed during the Australian Grand Prix.
It's stuffy and unbearably hot inside the car. Her race suit didn't help much. If she's in any other situation, she would've complained to everyone that's willing to listen.
Though, at this moment, she found herself to not care.
Bright eyes stared at the car in front of her. She could see the familiar Mclaren in front of her, passing the checkered flag. She could see the Mclaren team cheering by the fence near him. Y/n could only see Mclaren in front of her.
Only one car out of 22.
"P2, y/n," breathed out her race engineer on the radio as she passed the checkered flag. There's a hint of disbelief and wonder on his tone. "Fucking P2."
She screams, no doubt flooding the team radio with her rather inhumane scream as she let go her steering wheel and hold the top of her helmet. It's a bit unbelievable, a bit hard to belief, and of course, so so fucking wonderful.
"YES!" screamed the woman. "YES YES YES! OH MY GOD!"
Y/n could hear the announcer announcing the result of the race, voice excited at what just happened. After all, today on the 18th of March 2012, a Formula One history was just made. This day would be written as one of the most memorable moments in the history of Formula One.
As she hopped out of her car, her team is already out there, ready to celebrate with her.
Some would have criticized that action as excessive, considering that she didn't won the race. Though, this race was the debut race for Porsche. This is the race where the team can show the world that they're not here to play. They're here to win.
It could be said, that both the team and y/n's goal are aligned.
The girl wants to show the world of motorsport her worth. Want to show everyone, that she deserved her seat in this sport. Want to show, in this men dominated sport, a girl like her too, can thrive.
Her team too, wants to show the world of motorsport their worth. To show everyone that Porsche Royale Formula One team is here to stay and to make history.
Maybe that's why they worked so well. Maybe, that's why both Porsche and y/n became unbelievably loyal to each other. That the team, had became her second home and y/n had become someone that the team can trust fully.
If she looked back towards that day, she can confidently say that it was one of the happiest day in her life. It was her first race in Formula One, it was the start of her historical journey in this sport, and of course, it was the day that she managed to shut every criticism that was directed at her way.
It was satisfying.
2018
Y/n's presence is almost mythical at the grid.
Which is a bit weird, considering she had been a constant presence in the grid for years at this point. Still, it still didn't diminish the almost divine status that she had achieved amongst the fans of motorsport.
After all, there are drivers that's like that. Drivers that can command a room with their simple presence or someone that had reached so many achievements throughout their career that it sounds almost unbelievable. Drivers, that you had ever only heard of and never seen. Drivers, that had inspired the next generations of motorsport enthusiast to follow this adrenaline filled career path.
Y/n is one of those drivers.
Today is the pre-season testing and y/n is ready to retire from the sport.
"I'm going to retire," said Y/n as she groaned, stretching her back inside of Porsche's hospitality. "Like for real."
Truthfully, the weather today is perfectly warm. Barcelona in February had never been glaringly hot. The sun is shining above them and yet the temperature didn't rise unbelievably high. It should be a good day to do your daily routine and well, for y/n, this should be the perfect weather to do the pre-season testing.
Though, the ache on her joints is saying otherwise.
A hand hit her shoulder playfully. "You're only 23" said her athletic trainer, Luca. "That's like the age where everyone started their career," he said as he slid a strange concoction of healthy smoothie in front of her. "Drink this."
"But I started my career when I was 17," whined the woman as she sniffed the drink. It smells healthy. And weird. She really doesn't like it. "It's almost 6 years, I think it's an appropriate time for retirement, or maybe a promotion. Do you think I'll make a great team principal?"
The mere thought of this woman being Porsche's new team principal sends shiver down Luca's back. "Honestly, don't even joke about that because I seriously think Herman will get a heart attack."
Y/n laughed at that. Just imagining her team principal being shocked to the point of a heart attack just because she's going for a retirement is a bit funny to her.
It's the start of the 2018 season and she could feel excitement ringing through the air.
Somehow, the grid feels different than usual. People seems more excited, a bit wary, and yet, still excited. Y/n likes to think that it was because how exciting the 2017 season was, considering how intense the battle between her and Lewis for the driver championship title. Though, she knows that it was not the reason.
She glanced towards the cameras that littered around her.
In this season, somehow, there will be a documentary crew film documenting their 2018 season. Which is, weird. Formula One teams are notorious with their secrets and fear of corporate espionage after all. Now they're letting a filming crew to document all of the behind the scene of the season?
It's a new concept.
Herman had told her that almost all teams in the grid had allowed the filming crew to lingered around the garage. Well, except Mercedes and Ferrari - which shocked her a bit because she really think that this kind of thing is something that Lewis would do. But oh well.
Hopefully, this kind of coverage can boost the ratings of Formula One and make the sport more known to the general public. It will be great if there's a lot of new fans who will start to watch the sport from the documentary.
"Now that there's a film crew following us around," started y/n with a snicker, leaning back on her seat. "I think it will be more dramatic for me to announce my retirement right now, no?"
Luca sighed, "Y/n-"
"I hope you're not serious about that," said a dry voice behind her.
She doesn't even have to turn around to see who's standing behind her. "Herman!" she greeted, cheerful as always and as if she was not talking about possible retirement just a few seconds ago. "My favorite team principal, how are you?"
"Good," said the German, raising an eyebrow at her. "As long as your retirement plan stays like that. A plan."
The female nudged his shoulder playfully. "You know I love you too much for that."
"Really," muttered the team principal as if he doesn't believe what she's saying. "With how you behave lately, I really doubt that."
That, actually, made her laughed louder. "What do you mean? I've been a perfect worker!" she said, tone full of teasing. "I'll be a more star worker if our car this season is perfect like always." At this, she added a wink towards a team of mechanics that's sitting on the next table, eliciting a round of laugh from them.
"I'm counting on you then," said Herman as he took a seat in front of her. "I'm here to talk about other things."
She blinked. "What other things?"
The pre-season testing had barely started and he's already here to talk some serious stuff towards her? She's allergic to that.
"Someone wants to meet you," continued Herman as he took out his iPad, writing something on it. His thick rimmed glasses glinting. "It's a favor from a friend."
"Oh?" asked y/n. "Like, I don't know if you're aware, I'm a pretty popular girl," she started and Luca actually has the nerve to roll his eyes at her. "Lots of people want to meet me."
"It's a favor from Fred," continue the man, ignoring her comment. "It seems they found a star driver or something, someone that they really cherish. And apparently that rookie is a huge fan of yours"
Y/n blinked at that. Fred Vasseur is the team principal for Sauber Formula One team, one of the teams in the grid right no. They never really interacted much with Sauber, though she do knows that Herman and Fred are friends. Golf buddy or something. While the Sauber team itself is not one of the top team that will compete for the championship, it's famous for one thing.
Its relation to Ferrari.
While true, it's not like Sauber is Ferrari's b team like what Toro Rosso is to Red Bull, they still have a really close partnership with each other. Like really close. So close to the point that almost every part of Sauber came from Ferrari. For Fred Vasseur himself to ask a favor to Herman for their rookie driver can only mean one thing. This rookie driver is projected to drive for Ferrari.
A competitor then, she thought idly.
"Well, I'm honored," the woman finally said. "So where's the superstar?"
"They should be here soon-"
Just at that, someone opened the door towards Porsche's hospitality, calling Herman's name. "Herman!" greeted Fred as he entered the building with a perky energy. "And of course, y/n, always lovely to meet you."
"Freddie, Froyo, Fredman, it's been awhile," she greeted back, standing up to give the man a short hug.
Maybe it's because Sauber itself is not a champion winning team that it made them interact easier. After all, she can’t even imagine greeting Christian or Toto like this.
"Yes, yes," laughed the man, not looking the slightest bit uncomfortable at the random nicknames being used. "I told Herman already, but there's someone that want to meet you."
It was at this, that y/n realized that there's someone standing behind Fred.
A man, maybe around y/n age, a bit younger perhaps, could be seen standing a bit awkwardly. He's wearing the white and red Sauber shirt, paired with a ripped skinny jeans. From the get go, it's obvious that he seems uncomfortable at the sudden familiar setting of Porsche's hospitality. At the same time, his eyes looks excited and a bit jittery.
Y/n immediately knows that this is the future superstar. Sauber's apparent cherished rookie driver who is now being projected to be one of Ferrari's future driver.
For a career prospect, not bad. A Ferrari driver certainly is a good option. Though, y/n is sure if this Formula One driver gig doesn't work out, he can be a model or someone in the entertainment industry. Because honestly, the guy is really pretty to look at.
Warm green eyes, messy dark colored hair, and a nice face to look at. If he ever decided to become a model, he could probably be a successful one.
"Y/n," called out Fred, catching her attention. "This is Charles Leclerc, he's a big fan of yours."
He seems a bit embarrassed at that mention, what with how his cheeks started to redden and how he flail his hands around. Which is, cute.
"Really?" she said, smiling as a teasing grin entered her eyes. "Really honored, then."
Charles let out a huge smile at that, looking a bit relieved. "I should be the one saying that," he said and his English is thick with accent. French, she realized. "I've been following you since your debut."
She let out a low whistle. "2012? That's a long time," laughed y/n easily. "You were how old back then?"
"15," he replied.
"Ah, I'm only 2 years older than you then," she said, putting it at the back of her mind. "At long last, it's no fun to be the youngest on the grid for so long."
Herman coughed, eyes staring at her straight in the eyes, "There's Verstappen, he's also two years younger than you."
"But Max is way too serious!" she whined out, remembering Christian’s favorite driver. Ever. "It's no fun to tease him when he gets all broody, which is like 70% of the time."
"It's because you keep annoying him," said Herman dryly. "Anyway, Charles, correct? What do you think of F1 so far?"
Now, all of them are seated at the same table, making conversation with each other. Honestly, y/n is a bit invested at the topic. Moreso on Charles because with him entering his rookie season is like a wake up call for her.
Lately, more and more young driver debuted in F1. It started with Max and Carlos back in 2015. Younger and talented drivers with more vigor and a brand new vision for the sport. Back when she debuted, the grid was way older with more experienced driver filling up the spots. Now, it seems, the teams want to change the way they view the sport a bit.
Younger drivers started to arrive every year. Guys who had karted since they were four or guys who basically just skipped F2 straight into F1. Thinking back, it's a bit sad, because it made her realize that more of the older driver too, will retire soon. That the grid will change soon.
Hm, she thought. It's an added pressure for her.
Maybe it's because she debuted so young and had become a world champion when she was only in her second season, it made her think that she's way older than she actually is. This year is her seventh year in F1 and now she has three driver championships under her belt.
It's a bit jarring thought that she is now one of the most experienced driver in the grid.
Charles talked about his experience so far with so much enthusiasm and starry eyes that it made her want to protect him a bit. Which is normal, because to all of them, Formula One is a dream that they had ever since childhood. When they first entered the sport, it's only normal for them to look at everything with full of reverent and wonder.
The male seems to live and breathe just for racing. A feeling, that y/n can relate to.
"So you liking it so far?" she spoke up, catching everyone attention. "Does it fill up your expectations?"
"Yes," nodded Charles with a huge smile. "I'm really excited for the first race."
"Nice," grinned y/n.
Really, if anyone ever asked her what is one of the defining moment in her life, she would described this moment at one of them.
With Charles smiling in front of her inside the Porsche's hospitality, with the impending knowledge of a new generation of Formula One, and with the fear of destroying all of those Formula One hopeful dreams. It was at this moment that she decided something.
She really really wants this sport to be enjoyable for the young drivers. For them to have someone to talk to and not became a clueless little shit like she was all those years ago.
It was a decision that stayed on her mind as they continue their conversation. Herman seems interested in Charles, not that they can sign him for Porsche considering his love for Ferrari, but still, having an option is still a good one.
They stayed and chatted there until both Charles and Fred presence is needed back in the garage.
"Hey Charles," she said a few minutes later when both Fred and the younger male was about to leave Porsche's hospitality. The younger had asked her to sign three hats, saying that it's for him and his brothers who is also a big fan of hers.
Perking up, he motioned for Fred to walked ahead before he jogged back to where she's standing.
Pulling out of her phone, y/n let out a grin towards him, "Give me your number yeah? I think it will be fun to stay in contact."
Charles stared at her.
"Seriously?" he asked, blinking rapidly.
"Yeah."
Almost immediately, he scrambled to get his phone out of his pocket, to the point that he almost dropped it to the ground. It was such a comical sight that it made her laugh, which seems to only embarrassed him further. Maybe when they became a lot closer she can tease him more about this? Certainly a thought for the future.
They exchanged number and Charles thanked her many times, saying things that she's his idol and he really admire her. Y/n merely watched him, amused, at the blabbering, before he seems to realize that he had talked too much and excused himself in such a hurry.
Well, certainly, Formula One will be more interesting in the coming years, right?
Humming, y/n entered the Porsche hospitality once more, only to be called by Herman to discuss something.
"So," started the man, finger idly fiddling with the papers in front of them. "We need to talk about your teammate,"
"Ah," realized y/n. This is going to be a long and painful discussion.
Drive to Survive Season 1 episode 3
It's all about Porsche
Will Buxton appeared on screen, smiling. "The thing about Porsche is," started the man. "It's a team that most drivers doesn't want to be in."
A shot of y/n talking with Herman and the mechanics could be seen. Her face is serious as they discussed details about today's Grand Prix and the car. They seems dedicated in their work, a true showcase of the prowess of one of the top team in Formula One.
Which makes Will's earlier statement a bit bizarre.
"At least, if you're not y/n l/n," continue the man with a small laugh. "It certainly not because they have a bad car-"
Porsche's Formula One car could be seen zooming at top speed, a clear indicator on how fast the vehicle is going.
"-Nor is it because it's a bad team-"
Y/n's car could be seen entering the pit stop, something that the Porsche team handle flawlessly without a hitch.
"It's because of the strict hierarchy there," laughed Will, a wry smile appearing on his face. "A really really strict one."
Herman appeared after that, eyebrow raising at the question that the producer had asked off screen. "I think it's quite obvious who will be the no.1 driver," said the man bluntly. "It's an open secret in Formula One, no? About no.1 and no.2 driver?"
Christian Horner appeared in the dark interview room, wearing a dark cardigan and a light blue cardigan underneath it. The man laughed, almost throwing his head back at that. "No.1 and no.2 driver is common in Formula One, but no one impose it as strict as Porsche," said the man, eyes full of amusement. "The team is basically a y/n cheerleading squad."
Many clips appeared after that, of team orders to let the woman through or the team failures to handle a simple pit stop when it's not y/n on the car. Articles too appeared, of how often Porsche has to change one of their driver and to find someone that is perfectly fine to be the second best in their team.
It's a team that prioritize y/n. It's a team, that undoubtedly will choose y/n l/n as their number one driver and will never budge on that decision.
The thing is, if Porsche is not a championship winning team, this shouldn't be a problem. Many drivers are grateful to have a seat in Formula One even they ended up not in one of the top team.
But Porsche is a team that fights for championship. Their cars are fast. They're the team that fight for wins and podiums. They don't fight for points, they want wins and glory.
A complete domination. Just like their motto. And when a driver tasted that sweet sweet taste of victory, it's hard to stop.
"Formula One driver needs to think that they're the best," said Will. "It's a mindset that they need to have if they want to survive in this sport," he continued. "Can they really, give up wins for their teammate? when their direct rival is that teammate herself?"
Y/n has too much presence for her to be the number 2 driver.
She is the icon of the sport, someone that is way too talented and way too influential to be the second best driver. The team itself was basically assembled around the woman needs.
The mechanics is someone that she can easily discuss the car with, her race engineer remains unchanged ever since her debut because she's comfortable with him, heck, even Herman position is secured because y/n actually likes him as a team principal.
It's y/n l/n very own personal cheering squad and everyone knows it.
"Fighting y/n on track is already a hard fight to win," continue Will. "A really hard one."
A clip of her racing and passing so many drivers could be seen. Her skilled handling of the car, overtaking those in front of her, and being an all around driver that deserves the title of a world champion.
"Fighting y/n for a spot as Porsche's number one driver? Impossible."
"The drivers need to understand that we're fighting for championship," said Herman as the scene cuts back into him. "We need someone that can support us in that cause."
Christian appeared, laughing. "Well, there's a reason why they need to change their second driver five times since 2012," said the man, looking so fucking amused.
Porsche after all, is y/n's kingdom.
Taglist!
@mellowarcadefun @glai1023-blog @jjkclub @newlifeforus @jpg3 @sp1cycurry @eternalharry @be-your-coffee-pot @itsjustkhaos
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doll parts.
(coriolanus snow x bella baxter!reader)
summary: having been brought back to live recently, you seemed to have lost your memories and still had a lot to re-learn. with that being said, you were personally intrigued by whatever 'fucking' is. luckily, coriolanus knew exactly how to teach you.
based on this ask.
c.w: horror (based in frankenstein and poor things), smut, coriolanus snow, nymphomaniac behavior (on the part of reader), spitting, p in v, porn with plot, rough sex, slapping (m. recieving), overstimulation, angry sex, squirting, edging, creampie, unproctected sex, innocent reader, naïve behavior, dumbification. casca highbottom is mentioned but he's not the main focus, 'virginity' loss, there's gonna be a lot of 'of course's" here
with the shocks of the electricity running through your new brain, you had opened your eyes to the sight of casca highbottom, a scientist who wanted to prove the point that he could bring people back to life.
of course, playing god wasn't exactly allowed, but what does corruption doesn't do?
with a white curly lock in your lustrous hair being something new to your forgotten appearance, you stared at the man in front of you, whom claimed to be your father. and of course he wasn't. he wanted to prove a point; this point being that he could create the perfect woman and shape her into the submissive obedient element you were supposed to become.
you didn't like that idea, and on the first minute he looked somewhere other than you when he brought you to see the outside world, you ran away, wanting to learn whatever you had to learn without the chains that casca highbottom had you in.
it didn't took long for you to come across coriolanus snow, a renowed academy student who was always against highbottom's experiments in dead people and animals. and he was so gentle to you, probably because of your doe heterochromatic eyes (another result of highbottom's tests on your previously dead body), or probably because of your innocent smile and the way your experience with the dead of living beings was killing mosquitoes and butterflies, saying that "there is no meaning for me to let this thing live if it annoys me."
of course, he took that out of your head with the argument that "then, if i, someday end up annoying you, would you kill me?" and you seemed to thought for a long while (that was his concern and the moment he gulped down), shaking your head, but saying "if you gave me anything other than kisses and books and shelter, i would." and he laughed at the way you said that, your eyes almost jumping out of your skull, always so sickeningly wide. you were so naïve, he truly wanted to open your kull, unspool your brain and sifting through it, trying to catch and pin down whatever it was that passed through your head.
he would never do it, though. not when you looked so pretty when swallowing his spit on that same night, licking your lips after a kiss.
then, in the day before, sitting on the couch on his studies, you looked at the page of the book you were leavmfing through, you saw an image of a woman and a man's silhouette. taking advantage of the few things highbottom teached you, you read outloud:
"mis...sio...neh...ry" of course, you still had a lot of difficulty reading, but nothing that could cause harm, coriolanus still tried his best to teach you how to read. he was always so... kind. you wanted to eat him up. but pretty things sometimes are accessories that can't go into your stomach, and that's what coriolanus told you when you tried eating a ladybug, claiming she was too cute for you not to eat it. "coryo,"
"yes, doll?" he asked, reading the papers he had on his hands.
"what is missionary sex?" that caught him off guard.
so now, after explaining how it worked and why it existed, the platinum blonde man finished by saying it could bring pleasure to your body, but it was mainly used for reproduction purposes.
you didn't really care about that last part, the second you heard him talking about 'pleasure', you immediatly got up, almost abruptly walking to him, your bare feet stepping on whatever it had on the ground, the skirt of your dress, that he got used to seeing you without, the shows you were supposed to wear to an early party that you never put on, his jacket, some papers, and finally, you were in front of him.
"i wanna do it," you voiced, taking the papers out of his hand "i wanna do it with you." and "i wanna have missionary with you." you said, eyes wide open to stare at him, you almost never blinkedat all.
"it's sex, doll. missionary is just a position." he said, laughing. though the thought of you riding him made his dick throb.
"position?" you asked, cocking your head to the side. "then there's more?" he nodded to you.
"there are much more positions on the kamasutra than pages on the bible." he said, and you smiled happily, your teeth showing up as well as your voice echoed:
"show me." you said "sex me- fuck, is fucking, right? fuck me. in the positions of the kamasutra." you said.
and god, he was so happy to take you by the waist, kiss you and lead your leg to wrap around his waist.
it didn't took many minutes for you to be without your bloomers, your panties put aside for him to grind his cock on your cunt, teasing you, and you didn't knew, but you felt like you were soaked up in something sticky- your wetness. "t-that's not missionary," you moaned, bucking your hips back at his teasing moves.
"you're right," he answered, groaning as he kissed your frowning face. "that's the clasp position, doll." with his hands on your waist, and yours on his shoulders, he finally penetrated you, earning a long moan out of your mouth.
you weren't a virgin, though you didn't know that, you used to have a husband on your previous life before you died, but you were never satisfied and you have never been- not until he slowly thrusted inside your pussy, making you feel every inch of his dick inside you.
"fuck!" you cried, a cry without tears as you undid the buttons of his shirt.
"what is it?" he asked, a moan leaving his throat as you ripped the shirt and bite his neck, too impatient to unbutton all of the buttons that were prohibiting you from seeing his body.
"i wanna see you," you moaned, slowly bucking your hips back, mouth agape as you let a rude moan leave your head "i wanna see your body."
he chuckled at your words, his hands still holding your body to keep you still as he fucked you. however, it wasn't bad, but you wanted to see how it would feel if it was fast.
"f-faster, please. just wanna see- s-see how it feels." you pleaded, your eyesight blurry as you looked down, seeing how your bare pussy took him in so well, almost devouring him into you.
he promptly obeyed you, going faster and deeper, a moan leaving your throat as his skin slapped against yours. and to see you squirming under him felt like heaven- a sight that no one but him could capture.
even when your walls squeezed his cock and you came around him, your pussy gushing around him, your stamina was still higher than his, which led to you edging him, not letting him cum until you felt so tired that you'd be passed out by his side.
which didn't happen for a long time. for at least six rounds, you were still edging him, slapping him every time he was ready to cum. you didn't allow it.
and by now, you were riding him non-stop, your eyes shut closed as you yourself abused your cunt on his cock, who throbbed painfully and made him throw his head back when he finally cummed inside you, stuffing you rope after rope.
"hey!" you called out slapping his chest, as he still gripped his nails on your skin, marking small crescent moon phases on your skin. he looked at you with an angry frown. "i don't wanna stop just now! i want more!" you said, not caring about his growling state, you thought it looked cute on him.
"god, you're terrible." he grunted, changing positions. "just this one more time and it's over." you nodded, agreeing with him as he finally slapped your clit, making you mewl and squirm under him. "see? you're too sensible, if we keep going," he thrusted "you're gonna have a difficult time walking straight."
"i can always dance." you said, legs spread to let him pound into you. he chuckled, slapping your thigh.
"let's see." he kissed you with a slight open mouth, his tongue battling with yours as he thrusted into you, letting you be a pillow princess for once in the day as you scarred his back with your nails, his pace was quicker than before, probably quicker than yours, and it made you melt entirely, your breathing became heavy and rapid.
when he pinched your clit, you felt strangely dumber, moaning into the kiss that was soon broke apart.
he spit into your mouth, his eyes boring into yours. "swallow it." and you did, crying from the pleasure as he rubbed your clit. "good girl, doll." he smiled.
"d-don't stop, coryo, please. just a bit more and i'll cum- i-i promise i'll let you rest after!" you mewled, squirming as he pound into you.
"hm, i don't know, doll. when i said i wanted to cum you didn't really allowed me to. why should i allow you?" he asked, pecking your temple.
"please. please! i can't hold it in!" you said, your boobs bouncing into the corset you were still wearing. he got rid of it in the blink of an eye, and you didn't even noticed where it had gone, too focused on the pleasure in between your legs as you cried.
he smiled to the view of your body. of course there was a bunch of scars there and there that were already healed, specially the one that connected your neck, but it didn't really mattered to his dick, neither to him. he loved just how doe eyed you were, how dumbly you asked about things and how you didn't questioned him more than once about something, like now.
"i-i'm sorry, i-i just wanted more. i didn't thought about your pleasure- s-sorry, please, let me cum! pleease!!"
"hm. no" he said, grabbing your ass and kissing your temple oh so kindly as he fucked you raw. "let's see how long you will last since you were so hungry for it."
and you didn't last much, just likenhe thought. the more you concentreated on the feeling of his dick on your cunt and the way his balls slapped against your ass, the closer you were to cumming again, and you did just after he came inside you again, smiling dumbly at him as you squirt on his cock, too sensitive from your previous orgasms.
"i'm sorry, coryo" you said, still teary eyed as you hugged him, hand pawing at his chest.
"for?" he frowned, he had already pulled his trousers up, guarding his dick into the fabric.
"f...for edging you, 'm sorry." you said, sleepy and pouty. he chuckled.
"it's okay," he said, caressing your head "at least you said sorry."
and you slept the most comfortable sleep of your post-mortem life, even drooling a bit on his chest, but he loved you just too much to do something about your innocent, naïve nature other than love and cherish it.
#young coriolanus snow#coriolanus snow x reader#the hunger games the ballad of songbirds & snakes#young president snow#coriolanus snow fanfiction#tbosas smut#coriolanus snow imagine#coriolanus x reader#coriolanus x you#x reader#bella baxter#poor things fic#bella baxter reader#coriolanus smut#18+ mdni#mdni#smut#frankenstein#send asks#anon ask
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literally any driver: burying head in crook of neck, night kisses and shutting the other up with kisses
lacii my love <3<3 did this with lando, hope that's fine! merry christmas again, and i hope you enjoy this!! 😁
"lando, did i tell you about that time when i first met my friend clara?" the words are flowing out of your mouth like you're spitting bars. your boyfriend doesn't even get a chance to answer your question before you've started talking again. "oh my god, it's a great story. you'll love it. so, i was in a french class when my other friend, sarah-"
lando is smiling subconsciously as you ramble on about your adventures, just as you have ever since he picked you up from the club. his fingers help you slip out of your heels – not that you even seem to understand what's going on, way too focused on speaking – before one of his hands lands on your waist. he takes a deep breath to keep his composure and hold back the laughter threatening to burst from his chest at your continuous gibberish, before he guides you to his bedroom with soft touches. he chuckles quietly at the way you almost take the wrong turn and end up in his kitchen, too engaged in your storytelling to remember the layout of his apartment. he isn't surprised, though, because;
alcohol always makes you blabber.
in most situations, you're not the most talkative, preferring to choose your moments to speak with great care. but when you start to get tipsy, it is like you are the world's greatest extrovert. even after getting just a little alcohol in your system, you talk to anyone with ears, somehow assuming that they're really interested in whatever you're ranting about.
thankfully, if you have your friends around, they usually drag you away by your arm, apologizing to the poor stranger to whom you've over-explained the storyline of your favorite movie.
lando learned about this side effect of your drinking early on in your relationship. on your third date, after sharing a few drinks at a local bar, you wouldn't shut up for half an hour, not giving him a second to interject with anything. he'd been surprised, but mostly confused, until he got your text message the following morning: oh my god, i did it... didn't i?
he'd tried to pretend he didn't know what you meant, wanting to put it all behind you, but you'd persisted. i didn't shut up. i never do when i drink. i'm sorry :(
lando was always one to be quick to forgive and forget, not wanting you to feel too bad. everyone does some questionable things when drunk, and he'd seen tons of people act worse than you did. but after that date, there would be uncountably many more occasions of you not being able to hold back when booze was in the picture. award shows, drinking games at home with friends, podium celebrations. once, he even found you outside a club after a race, sitting on the curb with one of your hands petting a stray dog as your other helped you explain the meaning of life. safe to say, he is used to your habits by now.
so tonight, when he picked you up from your night out with a few of your friends, he wasn't surprised that your mouth didn't shut once during the trip back to his apartment. you were excitedly telling him about the people you'd met and the drinks you'd had, so eager to explain every detail to your boyfriend when you were getting into the car that you forgot about everything around you and he had to lean across the console to put on your seatbelt for you.
most of the time, he finds your habit endearing. but sometimes, like right now, it gets just a little tiresome.
"and then, when jamie came around, she was like, what are you doing?, and i was like, i'm just having some fun!"
you're both sitting on the edge of his bed by now, after lando's helped you change into something more comfortable for the night, your mouth still running like you're one of the gilmore girls. you don't even flinch when his hands reach for your cheeks and he stares intently in your eyes – but he can't do anything other than smile.
lando loves your voice. he loves it when you're whispering something in his ear when you're out with friends, when you're ranting to him about some stupid coworker, and maybe especially when you're moaning and whining his name.
but now, he reckons you've talked enough for today. your vocal cords must be sore, and his ears are about to fall off, so it's time to call it a night – and he only sees one way to shut you up.
mid-sentence, lando leans in, pressing his lips to yours. he swallows the yelp you let out in surprise, one of his hands gliding to the back of your neck to keep you close. it doesn't take long for you to relax into the kiss, your lips moving with his while your hands reach for the neckline of his hoodie.
it's so easy to get lost in kissing lando. when he parts the kiss, you find yourself wanting to seal your lips again, already missing the feeling. your mind is now completely blank; all you can think of is the kiss. the man beside you laughs at your hazy expression, utterly amused by how you're suddenly quiet for more than five seconds (something he's sure hasn't happened yet tonight).
when you slowly open your eyes, the very content look on lando's face makes something click in your mind. he sudden kiss, his big grin...
"was i rambling again?"
the silence that follows gives you your answer, and you throw your head back as you let out a little groan. "hey, don't worry about it."
"i really didn't mean to. you know how it is, it just happens, and i don't really feel it as it happens, you know? it's just, the alcohol, it's not my intention. i actually told sarah today that-"
and for the second time, lando pulls you into him, quieting you down with his own lips. this time, as you (for the most part) understand what he's doing, you can't help but giggle into the kiss. your boyfriend matches your smile, taking your bottom lip between his teeth as a joking warning. he lets it flop back against your teeth as he pulls away to look at you again, but you've already lunged forward, head resting against his shoulder.
"i'm sorry," you start, nuzzling your nose into the crook of his neck. "i really am."
his arms snake around your waist before he leans back against the bed, pulling you down with him and into his side. "don't be," he answers, one of his hands reaching up to the back of your head, stroking your hair. "it's cute. you're cute." you continue hiding in his skin and he makes himself more comfortable in bed, pulling the blanket over you both. "we'll talk more tomorrow, okay?"
he feels you shake your head. "i'm done talking. i've talked enough. you know those tiktok videos where you only have a certain amount of words you're allowed to say every year? that's me. i've run out of words, i used them all today."
"oh yeah, i can tell," lando chuckles, pressing his lips to the top of your head. "close your eyes, baby. tell me about those tiktok videos tomorrow."
"didn't you hear me? i said no more words. i won't talk tomorrow because-"
lando sighs. it's going to be a long night.
#lando norris#f1#formula one#formula 1#lando norris x reader#lando norris x you#lando norris x yn#lando norris x y/n#lando norris fluff#lando norris fanfic#f1 fluff#f1 x you#f1 x reader#f1 x y/n#f1 x yn#f1 fanfic#lando norris fic#mclaren#santa tell me!#jack's 1.5k celly!
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unsolved (i)
Summary: Bucky doesn't even believe in the paranormal. So who the hell thought it was a good idea to stick him in a series about everything haunted for the internet's amusement? With his loose-canon of a teammate who has no concept of subtlety or any shits left to give, to make things even worse. (Buzzfeed unsolved AU)
Warnings: swearing, frustrated bucky at his little shit supreme, Very Loud reader, images and memes that all have alt texts.
A/N: yes this is literally harmless in a different font. do not ask me if anything doesn't make sense. i cannot explain. i resurface every 3 years to present you with ideas born from menty b's. ANYWAY shout out to my beloved ryan and shane. pls enjoy <3
Bucky doesn’t appeal to the youths.
Apparently.
On God, he cannot fathom why.
He had definitely left the house in the last six months, maybe. Smiled in at least two pictures that existed on the internet. He even knew what Discord was. Sort of.
By all accounts, he should be treated as the modern day icon that he was.
“The youths?” he repeats, the word so foreign on his tongue it felt odd to even say it.
“Your numbers are the lowest of the whole team.” The latest tech-dude, with a tablet twelve models ahead of the one Bucky had in his room, tells him monotonously. “Wilson, Romanoff and Barton score the highest. Everyone else lies around the middle. You are dead-last.”
Bucky has the audacity to look offended.
“Anything to say?” Their PR head, Maya, asks him, amused.
He stares, formulating the wittiest one liner he could in three seconds.
“I don’ care,” he mumbles.
Maya sighs. “Look, the team took the decision together. As far as I’m aware, you are still a member. You need some PR if you guys want to stay in the public’s good books.”
“No one’s gonna listen to me.” Bucky wasn’t exactly the poster child for American values. He couldn’t even vote until three years ago, and that came only after the full wrath of a Steve Rogers descended on the email inbox of the DMV.
“That’s why it’s important to get them to like you,” Maya emphasizes. “Or the idea of you at least. A very sanitized, corporate friendly version.”
His eyebrow twitches unintentionally.
“And also you signed the contract.”
Well. Shit.
Truth be told– and he has openly and rather loudly stated this on numerous occasions even especially when no one asked– he doesn’t understand why they need a PR team. The world has calmed down significantly over the last few years. Bucky hadn’t really been out crime-fighting as much as he was people-watching. There hasn’t been an earth-shatteringly dystopian-level event in the longest time, and there seemed to be a group of spandex-clad teenagers who seemed to do a good job at taking care of them when they did threaten to occur. Go kids.
Even if they needed PR, he could arguably understand the appeal of Sam and Nat and why the people would want to see more of them. Bucky, on the other hand, looked like he crawled onto Earth most days of the week.
“What do I have to do?” he asks ultimately, knowing there was no way to get out of this. “Interviews?”
The intern shares a look with Maya. Bucky shares a look with the ceiling.
“The team agreed to do a series of videos, each focusing on a different niche,” she begins, “Crash courses on science, pointing out mistakes in spy movies. Once a week.”
Bucky nods along. He can pinpoint Bruce and Nat for those.
Maya stares at him.
Bucky stares back.
“So,” she says slowly, like he’s a moron, “you would–”
“No.”
The intern sighs heavily like they discussed that this was going to happen. Bucky was getting predictable. This annoys him even further, for some reason.
“Only once a week, and it doesn’t have to be anything crazy–”
“I’m not doing videos,” he interjects. “I’ll tweet a few times. I’ll even go outside. But ’m not doin’ videos.”
A big step was to get the Avengers off Twitter after the regular shit-storm that occurs every time they’d quote-tweet another politician calling them shitheads. Getting them back on seems counterproductive.
“Fine,” Maya relents, looking at the intern. “We'll work something out.”
Bucky leans back in his chair, and meditating on ways he can weasel his way out of those too.
So they stick him in a couple of interviews.
Bucky, as the recluse extraordinaire that he was, does unsurprisingly terrible at them.
Variety does a piece on him that was supposed to take up 2 pages. They send back half a page worth of usable material and Bucky gets a lecture on how monosyllables don't count as answers.
He grunts in return. Maya’s itch to smack his shoulder with the rolled up draft increases.
They set him up for pap walks. Just him getting fast food for the team, or sitting in the park.
They don’t take into account that Bucky was trained professionally for years on how to hide, sneak in and out of places without a soul knowing he was ever there.
The paparazzi spend three hours waiting for him outside the pizza place, while he’s been home for two hours with two demolished pepperonis and an order of mozzarella sticks.
They give him access to his Twitter.
He tweets some dumb shit and gets shadow banned by that evening.
Maya is sick and tired, and the interns have shifted three times since the whole ordeal started. Bucky honestly feels a little bad. Maybe he should try to be like Scott, who not only wrote a book, finger-gunned at photographers, did an interview a week, but also agreed to a podcast and a video series about literally anything they suggested.
“Play nice,” Sam tells Bucky one evening.
It’s an off-hand comment, not even really looking at him while he says it.
Bucky doesn’t need to ask what he’s referring to, but he thinks that maybe he has gone too far.
He begrudgingly agrees.
Therefore, it begins.
They stick him in the background of a few videos. Just to interact, add his commentary on what was going on, suggestions.
Then the jokes really start.
“I just don’t got anything to add,” Bucky tries, in a failure of an attempt to justify his lack of contribution.
Maya only stares at him, but Bucky swears he can hear her curse quietly, even though her lips don’t move even a millimeter.
He is not put in another video.
And so he finds himself here.
In a meeting room that he’s convinced is barricaded from the outside so he can’t slither out the door again. Another intern with pink-tinted glasses that took up half their face.
Maya’s in the midst of explaining to him that sure, his numbers had gone up by a decimal, but that was because people had started editing him into the backgrounds of other pictures for other users to find in a perplexing take on Where’s Waldo.
“Videos seem to be working,” she ties it together. “But we need more than you just standing silently behind Captain Rogers.”
“But it’s working,” Bucky objects. “I don’t see why it has to change.”
Maya sends him a glare. Bucky decides then it’s good to shut up.
“Are you on the internet a significant amount?” the intern asks. The glasses on their face have changed colours to green. Bucky’s eyebrow furrows.
“No.”
For the next thirty minutes, he is subjected to a pop quiz about too many words ending with ‘core’, ‘coded’ and ‘eras’. He’s surprised that he knows what cottagecore is. He definitely doesn’t fucking know what a tomatogirl, nor does he want to.
“What do you like doing?” the intern enunciates, pulling up a spreadsheet of niches that had built a dedicated community around themselves over the years. “Makeup? Cleaning? Parkour?”
Bucky wonders if they’d really create a montage of him just micro cleaning the kitchen every week. It doesn’t sound half bad.
Beyond that, the only thing he can think of is woodworking, which Sam introduced him to. While he spends time creating little figures, he wouldn’t say it was–
“You really are dead silent,” the intern breaks his train of thought, tone almost that of wonder. “Guess the whole ‘ghost story for seventy years’ is more true than I thought.”
Bucky throws him a weary look, and works on unclenching the fist that tightened involuntarily.
“Was that necessary?” Maya’s voice comes coldly. “Take fifteen. Go find the other one we were supposed to meet.”
While sheepish and somewhat apologetic, the kid still looks relieved to be out of there. To be honest, Bucky isn’t really offended– he’s grown a thick skin over the years. But he also thought the guy was a little shit now.
Maya turns back to him, but Bucky finds that the table contains wonders far more interesting than the conversation at hand.
“Back to what we were talking about.” She ruffles through something on her laptop. “Puppets? History?”
He wordlessly shakes his head.
Been the former, seen too much of the latter.
Maya’s head tilts abruptly. “You like ghosts?”
He wonders if the prior conversation had anything to do with this insightful question.
Bucky shrugs. “Don’t exist.”
“Really,” Maya deadpans. “Aliens and multiversal baboons are fine, but no ghosts.”
“I’ve seen aliens and multiversal baboons. Never seen a ghost in my life,” Bucky argues right back.
“Other people have seen ghosts.”
“Good for other people.”
The door swings open right as Maya’s eyes narrow at him. Guess it wasn’t padlocked.
“Whatever it is you think I did, Maya, I didn’t. I think,” you announce in a volume too much for a closed room, stopping when you see Bucky sitting cross-armed and looking delightfully disgruntled. “Oh hey, Barnes. Fancy seeing you here.”
Bucky had met you. The newest addition to the team that had made a grand entrance a couple of weeks ago. He thinks you stay on the floor below him, but he has nothing backing this hypothesis other than the disco funk music that had started appearing at odd hours of the night.
“Please sit,” Maya cracks a smile at you that Bucky had yet to earn. “Sorry, I know our meeting is scheduled for later, but I figured we could kill two birds with one stone.”
You look between her and Bucky, who hasn’t moved an inch since you got here, much less even said hello.
“You must be really bad if Maya had to call me in,” you tell him outright. “I’m usually like, her last option.”
“Thanks,” Bucky replies dryly.
“Look, here’s my final pitch.” Maya sighs, before turning to you. “You’re new, and we need something to introduce you slowly to the public.”
“Oh, am I finally getting hard launched?” You grin, and Bucky doesn’t know what that means. “Just imagine me kicking my feet, giggling or whatever.”
“And he needs… an upgrade.” Maya’s thumb juts out towards Bucky who simply rolls his eyes.
“Right.” Your sight lands on him from across the table. “I’ve seen the memes.”
“What memes?” he grunts, because while the team had definitely seen them, it didn't occur to anyone they should show it to him. He loves them. Really. So much. Die for them.
You only look too happy to pull out your phone and start typing.
“Do you know what skinwalkers are?”
“No.”
“That’s what they say you look like, lurking in the back of all your friends’ videos,” you continue, swerving around your phone to show him.
Bucky doesn’t look impressed. He can’t say he blames them either, which makes him inexplicably maddens him.
“At least they’re calling you their boyfriend,” you add, entirely unhelpfully. “That’s gotta count.”
“Right.” Maya clears her throat. “The both of you–”
“Are getting paired together, I suppose,” you hum.
Bucky’s eyebrows pull together.
He barely knows you. Just a little bit on how you ended up here, that you enjoyed hanging out with the team, figuring out your place in the compound, and were seemingly doing a great job at it.
You were… loud. And open.
Bucky feels the compulsive need to compensate for that by doubling down on how silent he could get, as if the two of you couldn’t co-exist in the same space in equilibrium.
Maya pointedly raises a finger at you. “Do you believe in ghosts?”
“For the right price, I will believe in whatever you tell me to.”
Her face lights up brighter than Bucky's ever seen.
“Great.” Maya slams her laptop closed. “See you later.”
Bucky’s left staring as she exits, not even throwing the both of you another look.
“That was quick,” your voice cuts through the silence. “What was that all about?”
“Don’ ask me,” he grumbles, with a sinking feeling that he knew exactly what was about to follow.
“Ghost hunting?” Bucky echoes a week later, as expected.
“Yes,” Maya tells him simply. “Two of you. A series based on paranormal activity.”
“I don’t even believe in them,” he reiterates.
“That’s the point,” she emphasises. “Skeptic and believer. It makes for a good contrast.”
“Why us both?” He hopes it doesn’t come off as offensive. He just doesn’t see why he can’t do this with Sam. Even Clint, if a gun was really pressed to his head.
“I’m new, no one gives a shit about me,” you say brightly and full of promise. “Yet.”
“Exactly. It’ll be low key. Not an overwhelming number of viewers, no expectations. It’s perfect for launching one Avenger and re-launching another.”
“Sounds rad.” You grin, leaning back as your feet rest on the chair in front of you.
Maya looks relieved for a moment that at least one of you was on board. “No promises on anything. We shoot one video, and if it does well, we stick with it.”
“What if I don’t want to?” Bucky argues.
“Then you have until tomorrow morning to give us another feasible idea,” Maya dishes back.
Bucky retreats into his seat, arms crossed over his chest.
Truth be told, he considered himself to be the most boring person in the team and though he had made his peace with that, he was sure thar bringing that up now would entail Maya shooting him in the foot.
“Fine,” he agrees and the sighs around the room are loud.
He scoffs. So fucking dramatic and for what.
“Put her there, partner.” You stretch ungracefully over the large table, sticking out your hand.
Bucky eyes your hand. “Do you even believe in ghosts?”
“I do now, yeah.” You nod seriously. “Love ‘em. Can’t get enough of them.”
“One video,” Maya reminds him as a balm. “And if it doesn’t work, you’re off the hook forever.”
Off the hook? Forever? For Bucky?
Yay.
“One video,” he reiterates.
You roll your eyes before smiling when he leans forward to grab it. You yank it up and down clunkily. He blinks at you, letting go slowly.
“Thank fuck,” Maya groans, head dropping onto the table.
Your smile is wild. “Guess we’re doing this shit together.”
He doesn’t even have to look very deep in his soul. He already knows he’s going to suffer.
here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing!
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#bucky x reader#bucky barnes x reader#mcu fic#bucky fic#bucky barnes fic#bucky fluff#bucky barnes fluff#bucky angst#bucky barnes angst#unsolved fic#winter soldier x reader#Winter Soldier#bucky barnes#bucky
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safety net [p3] (pornstar!mike schmidt x reader)
part two: 🚿 | part four: 🏆
tags: lots of mentions of porn, smut (descriptions of sex being filmed, featuring unprotected sex, dirty talk, clit rubbing, squirting, some workplace intimacy lmao), angst?, exposition! reader gets a taste of mike's world and things begin to shift. proofread many times but if there are still errors, idk what to say lmao
“wow."
"i know right," you say plainly, eyes wide at your best friend, claire, as you take a large gulp of your hot latte. claire cuts her gaze to you, puffing her cheeks out in a sigh. you were always so in awe by her, the feeling proved once again when she'd actually agreed wholeheartedly to view your boyfriend's porn.
"i still don't believe that you're dating him," she sputters with outrage as she points to your computer on the dining room table, open to a still of mike with dick in hand, coming on some dark-haired girl's keen face. "and i don't believe it even more so because you decided to wait six months before telling me. i thought we were best friends!"
you can tell her outrage is whimsical by the way she faints into your arms, and you reach forward to catch her.
"yeah but, like, best friends from adolescence that don't see each other very often. last time i saw you was three months ago."
"okay, but by then you'd been dating him for three months, and that's almost half a year!"
"barely, claire."
you couldn't even believe that you were dating him. you hadn't known how you two went from meeting outside an underwhelming, overpriced restaurant to making out and cuddling intimately in mike's bed four out of seven days a week. it'd felt like no time had passed at all; you'd just been living without thinking. mike took every worry off your shoulders, freeing you of anxiety in so many ways that you couldn't believe someone that caring and accommodating was real.
he paid for your sessions after you'd mindlessly rambled about not being able to afford this therapist you really liked. he sent you the credentials to his grocery delivery membership, encouraging you to get anything you wanted or needed. you could finally consistently get things that were good, and healthy. he paid your rent, and respected the fact that you didn't want to move in with him and wanted autonomy to work and pay for your other personal expenses.
"i just want you to be happy. you tell me what you want, and we'll make it happen."
he had you and it didn't feel real. you felt like you couldn't tell anyone about it, terrified that everything would crumble if you spoke even a word about him being your partner, so sweet and good and rewarding. you didn't want to hide him, but you didn't want things to collapse. not this time.
you wouldn't be able to take it this time.
you explain all this to claire, ending with, "i'm sorry it took so long. i just really want this to last." you'd told her about everything, even about dating simon briefly and how he led you to mike.
claire nods, chewing on a wedge of pineapple speared by a fork. she's given up her fainting performance, once again munching on her breakfast and clicking the pad on your laptop. the video you two were watching resumes, and you watch her face for bit, eyes shifting around the screen in intrigue, before turning back to it as well.
"you deserve it, y/n. that simon guy sounded like a dickhead. an expired card, and the bathroom excuse? fucking lame." her voice doesn't chop through the amplified sound of both mike and the girl moaning, whiny and feral. they're absolutely gone, and you're really not thinking about simon anymore. fuck him.
now, you thought of mike.
granted, you hadn't been like the people in mike's videos, up to a certain point. you'd done the kissing and the heavy petting, but you hadn't had sex at all, in any form, and he didn't pressure you into feeling like it was some sort of requirement. he agreed with taking it slow, placing emphasis on the romantic before the sexual. you knew there would be no issues with the sexual; why rush into it when you could have the slow burn, all the tension you wanted up until you were ready?
mike hadn't fought it, and yeah, you thought, you did deserve it. you deserved to be treated like this.
"called me over for an art date, i guess you still painted," the girl mewls with a devilish smile, licking at mike's---sorry, chase cox's---come around her mouth.
"mhm, baby. masterpiece, if i do say so myself." mike is so pretty on the screen; sweaty and flustered, but so confident at the same time, polite too. even when he's in an act, he's so attentive; he moves hair away from eyes and wipes spit off chins and cradles waists while he adjusts his hips to hit various angles, turning almost everyone he filmed with into a "braindead fucktoy"---claire's filthy words, not yours (though you didn't mind the idea).
the video ends with a snippet of aftercare, the both of them wiping at each other's bodies with gentle motions. it's how they all end, and you think it's really nice, showing a crucial part of sex that most people forgo. you'd seen plenty of mike's videos by now, and knew that while some were vastly more kinky than others, they all followed the same formula of care, concern, and curtesy.
you could tell mike lived by that, too.
"well, i gotta scoot to work," claire murmurs, leaning down to grab for her bag. "but thank you for inviting me to breakfast so you could show and tell me that you've been dating a wildly handsome, generous, and charismatic sex worker. best videos i've seen by far, honestly. are you seeing him today?"
you nod sheepishly, and claire laughs into the sky, doctored with comical bitterness. "well, let the record show that i am both extremely jealous and extraordinarily happy for you." she gives you a toothy smile, poking at your shoulder with both index fingers. "seriously. you deserve it all."
you carry this thought with you as you ride in one of the company's chartered cars, traversing through the roads to their main studio, the biggest one in the city. there were only 4 throughout the metro area, but this one, a gigantic penthouse isolated at the top of a 275-foot tall apartment complex, had the most space and atmosphere of them all. you remember coming here to take your picture for the all-access card mike had given you. he was so happy to gift it to you a few months ago, finally getting through after bugging the execs to give him another card with unhindered access for months.
"finally got the hard copy, just for you. got your name on it and everything," he'd smiled so wide, clipping it on one of his merch lanyards; white with black, serif text that read, "chase cox world domination". you'd fallen over in laughter, kissing at his cheeks while thanking him between giggles.
you hadn't been here many times over the last three months, but when you were, you were able to slip through every door and security checkpoint without hassle. people knew who you were and attended to you, telling you exactly where mike was in the studio or offering to get you any refreshments or sundries you were after. you'd always declined, extending extreme gratitude to everyone servicing you, but today, you ask for a bottle of fancy artesian water. you deserve it.
the few times you'd been here before were usually half-hours after mike had finished a scene, helping him pack up to head home for the day, but this time, you'd come early, wanting to catch a glimpse of him at work.
you take the elevator to the top, stepping out into the concrete foyer of the industrial workspace. the gray of the material was accented with bright art and other pops of color in furniture and decor that conveyed the new age principles and ideology of the production company. it made sense why the videos were so honored, with the people behind them being young and progressive and on the right side of history (and design).
there are eight rooms on the floor; three for shooting, three for aesthetics and dressing, one for an office, and one for storage. there were bathrooms in three of them and two down the main hallway that opened into the formal living room/break area and kitchen. you'd been told that mike was in the hunger room; this one set up for messier, more bodily fluid oriented videos, as opposed to the softer passion and kinkier desire shooting rooms.
the rooms are all hidden behind frosted, sliding glass doors with the titles printed onto placards affixed next to them. you find hunger after walking a little, and gently pull on the handle. the door slides open soundlessly, and you're closing it behind you as you step inside, your eyes locked on the scene in front of you.
mike and his partner are arranged on a leather couch in a living room set, his hips shoving into her in this perceptive way. he's reading her body language and reacting accordingly, and you can see why she's moaning so genuinely, feet dangling by the ankle over mike's shoulders. the couch is already drenched in liquid, wet and puddled under the girl's ass.
he grabs for the back of the couch to go deeper, leaning down to press kisses on her lips as the cameraman focuses in on where they're connected. the sound is so lewd, and it makes you press your thighs together as you watch alongside the small production crew.
"feel good? happy to have a friend like me? someone who knows you, knows your body? someone who makes you feel better and come harder than your stupid fucking boyfriend?" his partner mewls out a broken, exasperated, "y-yyesssss" between gritted teeth as her moans get higher and higher pitched. suddenly, she's reaching at mike's back to scratch at his skin, screaming out as mike leans off to the side of her, massaging his fingertips over her clit and cooing, "yeah, just let go. know he's never made you feel like this, wasting this perfect pussy..."
his partner squirts against the camera with a screech, loud and raw but pretty. the lens is covered in a heavy spray of bodily fluid as she arches her back and grinds her mound into mike's hand, chest rising and falling at a rapid rate. "that's fucking it," he encourages, speaking in her ear as he looks down at the mess in his peripherals and rides her through it. "just the way you deserve." you swear he locks eyes with you when he says it, and he only confirms it with the small smirk he throws your way, managing to fit it into the ending of the shot. his eyes twinkle through the aftercare segment, and he talks with his spent coworker, calling, "she just wants to sit for a second" to a PA with a chuckle.
"okay, ten minute break and then we're shooting the come shot."
her legs slowly straighten out as mike throws the towel he's handed around his waist and slides his feet into the slippers stored behind the couch. he grabs a water from an outstretched hand as he makes his way over to you, smelling like sweat and sex and glistening with this nearly angelic post-fuck glow. it's like he's coming down from the gates of porn heaven.
"hi, my love," he muses, pulling you into a tight hug before saying, "how much did you see?"
"like right before the squirting. it's very..." you're not sure what to say, really. maybe, just maybe, you need to change your underwear, but you don't want to be weird about it. you're sure he's heard weird, and beyond weird, but you want to maintain composure in front of his coworkers. you give him a tight smile, resting your hand on his pulsing bicep. "just makes me think things."
"maybe we should add 'thought-provoking' to the list of labels for the company," he jokes, taking a sip of water while winking at you. "you're a genius, baby."
you're giggling along with him, opening your mouth to continue the joke when two tanned arms reach from behind him to cross in an X over his chest. a head peeks from behind him, and she's immediately unmistakable to you.
it's his current scene partner, who is also the girl from the video you watched earlier today. the one eager for his come, whining for him to make a mess of her face while letting him beat his dick on her tongue. you think back to all of the videos you've seen her in where she's with mike. she always comes the hardest working with him, and vice versa. something about it makes you sick.
she's smiling at his cheek, eyes focused on his as he turns his glance towards her. her arms get tighter around him and you notice how she gets closer, pressing her front tighter against his back. "caught your breath?"
"you know i always do," she brags, licking at her canines as her stare moves to you, looking you up and down with snarky scrutiny. "casting department's starting to slack."
you shrink, feeling so small that you don't feel like you're interrupting something anymore. you might as well just not be there, and you're about to sink into pitiful posture when mike snarls, "hey, watch yourself. y/n, this is amelie, and li, this is y/n, my girlfriend. i told you about her." the sound of mike saying the nickname turns to bile in your throat, searing you on the way down and keeping you from speaking.
amelie gives you a blank expression now, standing beside mike with no qualms at being fully naked in front of a stranger. "y/n, y/n...not ringing any bells," she places her hands on her hips, tossing her dark, sex-tousled hair over her collarbones. "sorry."
you don't know why you're daunted by her; you're usually daunted by no one, and able to speak up for yourself when people are acting catty. this time, you can't help but be unnerved by her perfection, or how close she is to it. perfect skin, perfect hair, perfect body, perfect boobs...
"i'm kidding," amelie's smooth, beguiling voice rips you from your thoughts, and you're gasping for something to say when she continues, "he's shown me endless pictures, and knows that i think you're gorgeous." her tone picks up the tiniest bit as she quips, "my eyes are up here, by the way." she's throwing you off, frustrating you in so many ways and you're just stammering with mike looking between the two of you.
"i'm sorry---"
"it's really fine. millions of people have seen them, everyone's always thirsty for more of me and chase cox..." she drags the end of her sentence out as she runs the tips of her long, cherry red nails along the back of mike's neck, ending in a laugh.
"'mike schmidt' isn't a porn name, we already had this conversation."
"neither is chase cox, if we're being real," they launch into a chitchat, and you once again feel like you're intruding. there's no denying that they have insane chemistry, but it still rips at you; you're aware of them having an entire moment in front of you, complete with the body language and glances and suddenly, you don't care about their connection. mike was your boyfriend, and it didn't matter what she said or did. they'd made so many videos together, yet, every night he came home to you, and not her.
"yeah, well you're still moaning chase when you come,"
"because i can't dox you like that--"
you clear your throat noisily, gaining their attention with an eyeroll, and amelie observes you and your curled lip with recognition of your game. she didn't expect you to have bite, not with the way you look now. you're not the assertive, 'take-no-shit' girl from the pictures mike showed her. she thinks you're merely a hint of that, and that it completely evaporates when someone lights a fire under your ass, but maybe she's wrong for once. "watched a bunch of your stuff. it was really good, you're talented."
"thanks," her gratitude is dry and bitchy, and you're about to say more when a PA calls a two minute warning and she squints her eyes into slits at you. "hope you're ready to see a lot more of me." she uses mike's shoulder to pivot with a sly smirk, sauntering back to the now wiped down leather couch, ripples coursing through her ass with every step.
you look to mike with astonishment, wondering where he's been during this whole thing, and who that girl is, and if she's genuine bad news or simply one of those callous girls that guys love to chase.
mike had defended you, sure, but he'd gotten captured too. what if she's indoctrinating him some--
"she's nice," you blurt, stopping yourself from the overthinking you'd resorted to. you needed to be nice to yourself. you deserved this, deserved everything you had with mike. nothing was taking that away from you, and you could feel secure in that. mike would reassure you.
he does, saying, "isn't she?" with a snicker. "don't worry about her, okay? it's her personality, and she does everyone like that, so she's not just targeting you. ignore her, and if you don't like the small jokes either, i can tell her to knock it off. whatever you want. also, lunch after i wrap?"
you nod your head, about to say something again when the PA announces that it's time for shooting to start back up. mike gives you a fat kiss on the lips as he drops his towel into a director's chair next to you, and makes his way back over to amelie folded on the couch. her knees are by her chin at a filthy angle, and she's using a squeeze bottle with a tapered tip to squeeze shiny lube all over her clit and both holes.
mike watches, rubbing his hand all through it to spread it around. amelie bites at her lip as he does, staring up at him with eyes that are filled with unadulterated lust, and he uses the leftover lube on his dick, stroking the slippery surface as he gets harder and harder in his hand.
the director asks them if they're ready, and when they both answer yes, she says, "okay, we're gonna go insertion, sink in, wait five for the kiss, and go from there. alright...rolling...action."
amelie flicks her eyes to you in a leer, winking at you like mike did earlier as he plunges into her sopping wet walls. her head falls back against the couch while she outstares you, open-mouthed moans transitioning into "cockdrunk" laughs that you know are calculated.
you begin to chug your bottle of water, deliberately ogling her in return. you were down with playing a game for two, but not for long.
lord. the hell i've gone through to get this up /: lmao i need to go to bed. things are about to heat up, so prepare yourselves for what's next to come!
faire's seedlings ✿
@leahdhopkins4321-@pyr0-kai-@angstywhore-@sunazroo-@nyxthoughtss-@mirophobic-@fayethor-@marixsimps-@regretfulme-@ithinkitszeph-@707xn-@cattt777-@violetta-ximena-@amnesia33-@topnerd03-@fastnights-@laprvphette-@savage-aespa-@mfdxz-@0-tatiana-0-@dusstory-@delwrites-@mikeschmidtgf
#fnaf#fnaf movie#fnaf fic#mike schmidt x reader#mike schmidt smut#mike schmidt angst#mike schmidt fluff#faire's (pornstar) mike schmidt <3#josh hutcherson#faire is writing stuff#heat is coming#hehe (:#also to all the 'chase cox's out there#my b lmao
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Part 3
Eddie can barely react when Steve offers to pick him up at his house for their date night.
Eddie is a nervous wreck at this point as he's been with everything that's related to Steve (or related to not-Steve).
Ever since he first matched with him, Eddie felt like he was living in a parallel world because there was no way in hell someone like him would ever swipe right on someone like Eddie. And yet. It really happened.
Well, at first it didn't, but then Steve called and said all those nice things to Eddie and fuck if he wasn't easy when someone flattered him.
But Eddie was also a paranoid shit, so he kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. For Steve to laugh at him and tell him it was just a prank. For him to ghost him - which maybe would be even worse.
But Steve didn't and now he was waiting outside of his place in a fucking BMW? What the fuck was that?
Steve looks good because he always does. They had been exchanging pictures of themselves as they talked and even when Steve was all sweaty and gross from a workout he still looked good. Eddie compensated with good angles and dork faces that Steve said time and time again were adorable.
He insisted so much that he thought Eddie was cute that Eddie was almost believing him. He had also tried his hardest for their date, putting on some of his favorite clothes, a band t-shirt and ripped skinny jeans that made him look good. His hair was down because it felt like a good armor if he needed to hide from something.
Steve doesn't even give him time to anything before he's smiling and saying 'you look so handsome,' and placing his hand on Eddie's thigh and fuck, he forgot how to breathe.
"Thanks, you, uh, you look good, too," Eddie blabbers and Steve chuckles and it's adorable. He's adorable and Eddie is losing his shit.
"Ready for our date?" Steve smiles and turns the car on, his hand heavy on Eddie's leg still. There's a part of Eddie that's sure he's the farthest thing from ready, but this is happening, no question.
X
Somehow, Eddie tricks Steve into inviting him over after the movie is over. Steve said he wanted to take him to dinner, but he failed to mention dinner was actually eating popcorn and candy at a drive-in.
Eddie had no notes.
After the movie started, he managed to relax a bit. Steve seemed to feel it because he, too, relaxed and when they were done with their food, he offered his hand for Eddie to take. He felt giddy like a high-schooler and like Steve had, somehow, known Eddie never had the chance to do any of that in high school.
Despite his fancy car, Steve's apartment is more modest than Eddie expects it to be. He mentioned having a roommate who he's friends with, although he said he just met her over the internet and she hooked him up with the job.
"So, is she like your best friend or something?" Eddie asks as Steve opens the car door for him as if he's a prince out of a fairy tale.
"Oh, no. I mean, we're friends and we talk and I really like her company, but I don't think she likes me very much."
"Why not?"
Steve shrugs, but Eddie can tell it's a sore subject. Eddie gets it, though. For the little he knows Steve, he can already tell he cares a lot about people liking him or not. He also doesn't understand why someone wouldn't like Steve, but well, people are weird.
"Is she out?" Eddie asks as they get in the elevator and Steve nods.
"Yeah, she usually spends Friday nights at her girlfriend's place. That's why I normally get the Friday shift. I kind of hate being home alone and it's just a nice thing to do for her, I guess."
Eddie hums noncommittally. He's trying to piece Steve together, but it's hard because his looks and his posture sometimes say one thing and then he lets out this incredibly vulnerable information and it leaves Eddie confused.
They walk in together and the place is small, but cute. There's an old couch and Steve tells him to sit down, saying he's getting them some drinks. Eddie doesn't want to drink, he wants to just grab Steve by the face and kiss him dumb.
Steve doesn't take long and as he sits down, Eddie can't hold it anymore. He has no idea where all this bravado comes from, but he leans forward and pecks Steve on the mouth. Steve's eyes widen and Eddie is about to apologize when two hands cup his face and pull him forward.
And then they are kissing. Really kissing. With tongue and little huffs that come out of Steve's mouth and Eddie feels like he's died.
If he is, in fact, dead, then Eddie is going to make the best of it. He lets his hands move to Steve's waist and he pulls him in. He has no idea what he was trying to do, but Steve seems to be much more confident because he straddles Eddie's hips and then he's on top.
"Fuck," Eddie says. He's completely out of breath and Steve feels so good like this. He grips his waist harder and Steve thinks it's a go-ahead for him to roll his hips down and Eddie sees stars.
Steve kisses him like he's hungry for him, and it's a heady feeling. Eddie has kissed boys before, but no one that looked like Steve. No one that made his heart skip so many beats like he does.
No one that seemed to want Eddie as much as Steve does right now.
"Stevie," Eddie whispers. He's not even sure he managed to get the words out but Steve stops kissing his neck. His pupils are blown out and his mouth is red and swollen and Eddie did that.
"Yeah?" Steve is out of breath, too. His chest rises and falls in quick intervals.
"Can we slow down?" Eddie says when he catches his own breath. He's afraid of saying it because it makes him look pathetic, but he doesn't want to rush this.
They've been talking for a month before they even went out, but Eddie still feels too raw and insecure and-
"Of course, baby," Steve interrupts Eddie's train of thought and he has a soft smile, but he doesn't move away. He's not repelled by Eddie. He leans in and kisses him softly on the mouth.
The pet name wraps itself around Eddie's heart. He's desperate to believe all of this means more than just a casual hook up but he knows he can't. Not yet.
"Oh, wait! I saved a video I wanted to show you," Steve says as if they weren't eating each other a few short seconds ago. Eddie chuckles. He likes it. He likes how Steve can just roll with whatever Eddie throws his way.
"Yeah, let's see this video," Eddie smiles, takes a moment to just admire Steve, hair a complete mess thanks to him, face flushed a pretty shade of pink. He looks perfect and Eddie wants to keep him so bad.
"Wait, can you call my phone? I don't know where I put it."
Much to Eddie's disappointment, Steve gets out of his lap and pats his pockets, frowning. He starts moving around the house and Eddie fishes his phone, dialing Steve's number from his contact list.
He watches as Steve disappears back inside the kitchen and listens as his phone starts to ring right beside him, on the couch. Eddie can't see it, so he pushes his hand at the edges and pulls out Steve's phone.
They must've been making out pretty hard for the phone to go this deeper on the couch. Eddie chuckles and presses the red button at the same time Steve comes back into the living room.
"Found it! I left it at the kitchen counter when I grabbed us water," Steve says, waving a phone he has in his hands. Eddie frowns at him and holds out the phone he found.
"Me too."
It's Steve's turn to look confused. "What?"
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#steve harrington#Eddie Munson#Coffee Shop AU#AU#Alternate Universe#Stranger Things#Fanfic#Stranger Things fanfic#Steddie#Steddie Fanfic
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