#it really does feel like. some drivers just want you dead for getting on the bus. speaking from experiences of many | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

maxlarens · 5 months ago

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OP: well, that isn't fucking relevant

pairing(s): oscar piastri x mercedes driver!reader

summary: someone tries to threaten your job, oscar has some choice words for him. (OR: the trials and tribulations of being a woman in a male dominated sport)

word count: 2.7k+

an: i kinda hate the white knight trope but i still wrote this lol, it scratches an itch and i think driver!reader did a sufficient amount of defending of herself beforehand. anyway, this is a one shot that's kind of connected to my smau series just a girl. enjoy!!!!! [also standard disclaimer: this does not reflect the opinions of any real life people/companies/organisations/etc. it is fiction. thank you]

You’re no stranger to sexism in Formula racing— you knew going into this that you’d have to deal with thinly veiled remarks about your gender and purposefully obtuse questions from reporters who think they know more than you about the sport you’ve dedicated your life to. You had to deal with it when you were karting, you had to deal with it during your stint in F2, and you have to deal with it now.

The fact of the matter is that some people do not think you belong here, and therefore are entirely unable to integrate the reality that you are very much here to stay, into their worldview. You’re lucky to have somehow earned Lewis’ loyalty, which had brought the Mercedes contract and the support of Toto simultaneously. Mercedes-AMG aren’t making leaps and bounds into the world of feminism, but you’re grateful for the seat regardless. You’re here and not going anywhere if you can help it.

You try your best to stay off the bad parts of social media, so as not to be subjected to the barrage of hate comments and death threats directed your way. You’re tough— but no one’s that tough. It’s fine for the most part. You focus on the racing, how the car feels, your performance and improving it weekend after weekend. You try at least. You’d love to leave your gender entirely out of the mix, you don’t think it’s relevant frankly. But unfortunately, the reporters do. (And so do some choice individuals working on the grid, who just can’t seem to keep their big fucking mouths shut about you.)

It’s disappointing, sure— but not surprising to sit down at a press conference and get a smattering of questions about your rumoured relationships and extracurricular activities when every other driver gets fifty questions practically thrown at them about their performance, or FIA regulations, or the track conditions. The part that bothers you the most is honestly just the lack of interest. It’s like they don’t think anything you have to say about the sport is valuable so they just don’t ask you the same questions they bother to ask the men. That probably is the actual case too.

So— y’know— you’re not that shocked when a reporter from some sports blog you’ve never heard of straight out asks if you “expect to be switched out with another female driver next year?”

The room goes dead fucking silent in a way that you do actually find satisfying. It’s good to know that most of the reporters in the room do know a tactless question when they hear one, or at least that you inspire enough fear in people that they’re waiting with bated breath to hear your response. Next to you, Oscar tenses, you can feel it where your thighs are touching. You can imagine his face right now without looking, that pinched micro-grimace he does. The barest hint of a crease in the bridge of his nose as he tries not to scowl. You want to put your hand on his knee and squeeze it in thanks.

You don’t. Instead, you frown and cock your head to the side, meeting the eyes of the reporter across the room.

Slowly, measuredly, you repeat, “I’m sorry, do I expect to be replaced with another female driver next year? Is that what you said?”

He nods, bringing the microphone closer to his mouth as if you really couldn’t hear him the first time, “Yes, yeah. That is what I asked.”

You hum, pursing your lips as if you’re sincerely considering his question. You can see a few people in the crowd who are cringing already, some of them have been on the receiving end of your tendency to play with your food before you eat it. Your ego feels pretty good about that.

“Why would Mercedes want to replace me?” you ask in your most polite voice, feigning real curiosity to this man who you doubt has done any research at all on you.

“Um,” he errs, some of his former unflappable confidence leeching out of his tone, “Well, to give more women a chance in Formula One—”

You start to speak over him, done with entertaining his ignorance. You bite, “—there are other teams for that, actually. I don’t think it’s presumptuous to say that I’ve earned my seat at Mercedes, or that I’ve proven that I belong here so far this season. In which, I have not qualified or placed below a P7. And I certainly don’t think it’s fair of you to ask if I am going to voluntarily give up my hard-earned seat to another person because you think I am here because of some women’s inclusion effort by Mercedes. And, okay, who knows, maybe I am. But I am not giving up this seat without a fight, nor do I imagine that Mercedes are in a rush to find someone to replace me right now. You’ll have to ask someone to confirm that though.”

You wind down after that, punctuating your point with a firm nod; some of the fight and the fury seeping out as you start to reckon with the potential consequences of your outburst. Mercedes’ PR rep will have something to say surely, you’re just hoping you haven’t crossed some kind of uncrossable line. Another part of you doesn’t quite care as you watch the reporter gape like a fish out of water, feeling rather satisfied that you’d put him in his place.

Eventually, the room recovers and moves on from you. Checo is getting asked his opinion on tyres while you share a furtive glance with Oscar. He smiles approvingly, mouth closed and the apples of his cheeks pushed up into his eyes. You feel the urge to touch his knee again but resist, instead smiling back as covertly as you possibly can. A warm feeling spreads in your chest and you almost forget about the reporter and his stupid question in favour of watching Oscar’s slow-burn smile.

Mercedes is fine with it, it turns out. Apparently, you’re doing the heavy lifting for them in the feminism department and all they have to do is have Toto or someone come out and say a few words in agreement. It suits them fine, they don’t need to take any hard stances and you get the blame if anything goes horribly wrong. That grates at you, of course it does. But you’ve got a seat, haven’t you? You’re not going to give it up because Mercedes are covering their asses like the multibillion-dollar company that they are.

It means you’ve avoided the all-hands-on-deck PR meeting you thought you’d be stuck in tonight, but it’s left you in too sour a mood for this party. It’s some function, fundraiser, something or other and they’ve invited all the teams, drivers and ‘important’ FIA staff. This means there’s an inordinate amount of people here and you’re really not into it.

But you’re still here. You’ve shoved yourself into a cute, strappy, black top, and a denim mini-skirt and you’ve even added some cute jewellery in a feeble attempt to match whatever over-the-top outfit Lewis has arrived in. It’s at least a step up from your usual team polo and leggings, or the Mercedes hoodie that you pull on over it. You’re comfortable. You’re fine.

You pull a hand out of the pocket of your oversized leather jacket as Oscar comes back over with your beer. You smile at the expression on his face as you take the neck in between your fingers. He’s scowling openly, the corners of his lips curled up in distaste.

“Busy?” you ask, then you hold up the beer in thanks, “Cheers, by the way.”

“Hmm, too crowded,” he affirms, “I lost Lando.”

You shrug, taking a swig of the refreshingly cold beer, “Actually? Or did he run off with someone?”

Oscar snorts, “Yeah, no. He got into a conversation with Max.”

You laugh, “Yeah, in that case, I reckon we’ll see Lando in a few hours.”

“Definitely.”

The two of you share an amused smile before you’re back to looking into the crowd because sometimes, it’s hard for you to look at him— like looking directly into the sun. You’re aware of him in your periphery, standing there and rocking back and forth on his heels, occasionally taking a sip of his drink. He looks away for a moment, and you turn to look at him. Taking in the endearing swoop of his hair, the scattering of freckles and moles on the side of his pale face, the long line of his neck disappearing into the collar of his shirt. You shift your eyes slightly to the right of him, to the patchwork of vents and scaffolding in the ceiling, feigning as if you’d only been casually looking his way.

“That reporter was a piece of work,” Oscar says once he’s drifted his attention back to you.

You roll your eyes on instinct, and groan, “Tell me about it, holy shit, Osc. What an asshole. I don’t know if he was just stupid or legit didn’t know a single thing about me.”

“Mm,” Oscar hums in agreement, “and I like how no one asked you a single question after that. Way to go guys, that’s exactly how you show your support.”

You roll your eyes, still smiling a little at the contented feeling you’ve got in your chest, “I know, right. Trust, they all got on their keyboards afterwards to wax lyrical about how deserving I am of my seat. It’d be fucken’ nice if they acted like it during press conferences.”

“Yeaah,” he sighs, half-laugh, half-exhale, “It’s unfair.”

“Fucken' right,” you gripe, tipping your head back and letting a slip of fizzy beer cascade down your throat— the alcohol, though meagre, leaves you feeling loose, a little reckless, “It sucks Osc. God, I just want to be respected. If I had a dick and balls I’d be fucking killing it, dude. This is my rookie season, I’ve been scoring points every race. Except for the DNF, which was not my fault. But, fuck me, they don’t give a shit.”

You squeeze your eyes shut to stave off the angry tears that are sitting behind your eyelids, threatening. When you open them Oscar is staring at you, frowning, his brown eyes huge and sparkling and sympathetic. They’re like a black hole you want to fall into. Your heart squeezes. He’s so— ugh. Quickly, your mind supplies about a hundred answers to that question: sweet, cute, nice, adorable. Something stutters in your chest and you feel your cheeks starting to grow hot. That slow-burn smile of Oscar’s starts on his face, and you watch dimples form on his cheeks.

The moment is quickly ruined by a particularly nasally Italian accent that you vaguely recognise, “You know,” it says, clearly talking to you, “You should make sure to watch your tone. You never know who could be listening.”

Mood thoroughly dampened, you turn to face the interruption. It turns out to be one of the numerous men on the grid who won’t shut up about you, sharing unsolicited opinions left and right. He has his arms crossed against his chest and a smug expression on his face, as if he’s just caught you doing something terrible— instead of simply complaining about the subpar treatment you’re afforded.

He’s not worth your time whatsoever but God you’re angry. Maybe it’s just been too much shit on top of shit today but you cannot deal reasonably with this man right now— and you are not afforded the luxury of not acting reasonably toward someone like this, no matter how much of a dickhead they are. You open your mouth. Close it. Open it again. Close it and bite down on your bottom lip so nothing accidentally slips out. You’re trying to fish a semi-civil sentence out of a sea of fuck you fuck you fuck you on repeat and it’s not working.

“Are you threatening her?” Oscar asks, a dangerous lilt to his tone, and somewhere in the pulse of anger, you think this is the happiest you’ve ever been to hear his voice, “Because, I am pretty sure your team principal would not be pleased to hear that you’re going around threatening one of Mercedes’ drivers.”

He scoffs, trying to play it off, but you think you register a little bit of worry somewhere in there— Oscar can be threatening when he wants to be and McLaren are not exactly nobodies in this sport right now, “Please, I am not threatening her. I am just telling her that she needs to watch her mouth.”

“Right,” Oscar nods, mouth pinching, “Sure. Well, it would be our word against yours and I’m fairly sure your team principal would believe two drivers over you right now. Especially with that history, you’ve got, dude.”

A little thrill goes up your spine as his face goes white as a sheet. Oscar’s talking about the nice little list of comments he’s made that you’ve reported to your team and an FIA representative— which you’ve taken to doing every time anyone starts up a pattern of saying things about you or to you. They’re to cover your ass honestly, so you can’t be accused of making things up if push comes to shove. You’re sure they’ve made their way back to him and his boss; you’re glad they’ve made an impact (but perhaps not enough to stop him outright).

He sniffs, a nervous edge to his words, “I am not threatening her.”

“Okay. Apologise.”

“Excuse me?”

Oscar raises an eyebrow, “If you’re not threatening her, apologise.”

You bite the inside of your lip and grip the neck of your near-empty beer bottle tighter. Alright, Oscar can be scary. Noted. Very much noted.

“I—” He quickly thinks better of protesting and looks at you, lips pursed in a thin angry line, “I apologise.”

He looks at Oscar, Oscar looks at you. You shrug and nod. Good enough. You don’t need him to grovel, you think he’s been sufficiently humiliated already. Although, before he scampers off into the crowd at Oscar’s approval, you manage a dry, “You think I need to watch my tone now?”

He scowls, but says, “No,” anyway.

Then he stalks off into the throng of people.

You relax more the further that he gets away from the two of you. The tension dissipates into something warm and charged with a different kind of electricity entirely. You ignore the unease that tries to take root in your stomach and instead focus on Oscar at your side.

“That was—” you scrub a hand over your face, starting your sentence again, “Hm.”

Oscar sigh-laughs again, “Yeah, what an asshole.”

“Thank you,” you say meaning it wholeheartedly, “No one’s done something like that for me before.”

Oscar looks down at you, frowning, he shakes his head, “It’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing,” you answer, feeling bold as you put a hand on his bicep in an attempt to express how grateful you feel for him, for what he’d done for you, “It’s really not, Osc.”

He’s quiet, staring at you with big brown sparkling eyes for a long long moment. A long moment in which you fantasise about reaching upward and pulling his face down to yours, feeling his lips against your own. They’d be soft, you think— his hair would be too. You don’t think about it and you resolutely ignore the tug low in your gut.

“You deserve it,” he says eventually, loud enough that you can hear it, but not anyone else, “You are killing it, by the way.”

You breathe a laugh, “Yeah, I’d better be.”

You squeeze gently at his bicep, feeling the sinewed muscle underneath his dress shirt. Then you let your hand drop, trailing absently down his arm as you do so. Your fingers brush his hand, and he catches yours before it's out of reach at your side. Purposefully, he threads your fingers with his, squeezing firmly and brushing his thumb tenderly over your knuckle. You feel a little lightheaded when he lets go.

You sigh, masking the out-of-breath quality of your voice, “I need another drink.”

“Yeah,” Oscar breathes, “Me too, I reckon.”

🏎️ title taken from this song :)

#oscar piastri #f1 #formula 1 #oscar piastri x reader #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #oscar piastri x driver!reader #oneshots:op81 #driver!reader #Spotify

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fanfictionismyaddiction · 2 months ago

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Celebrating Wins

Word count: 942

Pairing: Lando norris x girlfriend!reader

Summary: As a new couple landos girlfrined celebrates his polepostion with with a playful, intimate evening, marking the start of their relationship

Request are open

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The excitement from the day still lingered as we made our way back to the hotel. The buzz of the crowd, the thrill of Lando securing pole position in Q3—it was all still fresh in our minds. But now, it was just us, away from the cameras and the noise, and I had something fun and a bit silly planned for our own private celebration. I couldn’t help but feel a mix of excitement and nerves. We had only just gotten together, and this was my first chance to really show him how proud I was of him. I wanted to make the night special, something he’d remember—not just as a celebration of his pole position, but as a moment that marked the beginning of us.

As we stepped into our room, Lando immediately burst into laughter. I had covered the bed with orange and blue confetti—McLaren’s colors, of course. There were small, goofy trophies on the nightstand, the kind you’d find at a dollar store, with labels like “World’s Best Driver” and “Pole Position King” hastily scribbled on them in my handwriting. I’d even put out a cheesy plastic crown that said “Speed King” in glittery letters.

“Are you serious?” Lando asked, grinning from ear to ear as he picked up one of the trophies. “You really went all out, didn’t you?”

“Well, someone’s got to remind you how awesome you are,” I teased, reaching up to place the crown on his head. It was a bit too small, but he wore it proudly, striking a ridiculous pose.

“I feel like royalty,” he declared, holding out his hand for me to kiss, as if he were some kind of racing monarch.

Laughing, I took his hand and gave it an exaggerated, over-the-top kiss. “Your Majesty, the Speed King, shall we dine?”

He snorted, his eyes shining with amusement. “Lead the way, my loyal subject.”

We moved to the small table I’d set up near the window, where a simple dinner was waiting for us—nothing too heavy, just some of Lando’s favorite Italian dishes, including a massive bowl of pasta. I’d even ordered pizza, because who can resist pizza in Italy? And there, chilling in the ice bucket, was a bottle of his favorite champagne.

As we sat down, I grabbed a napkin and tucked it into his shirt collar like a bib. “Can’t have you getting pasta sauce on your royal robes,” I said, doing my best to keep a straight face.

Lando burst out laughing again. “You’re ridiculous! But I love it.”

We dug into the food, the atmosphere light and playful. Lando twirled his pasta dramatically, pretending to be a food critic as he took a bite. “Ah, yes, the perfect carbo-loading meal for a champion,” he said in a mock-serious tone.

“Only the best for you, your highness,” I replied, mimicking his tone.

As we finished eating, I brought out a small cake I’d hidden earlier. It was nothing fancy, just a simple cake with “Pole Position!” written in blue and orange icing, with a little toy car on top for good measure. I stuck a single sparkler in the middle and lit it, the tiny fireworks crackling and popping.

Lando’s face lit up with childlike glee as he watched the sparkler. “This is amazing. I didn’t think I could be this excited about cake.”

“Well, it’s not just any cake,” I said, grinning. “It’s the first of many celebrations this weekend, I hope.”

“Does this mean if I win tomorrow, I get another cake?” he asked, waggling his eyebrows.

“Oh, you bet,” I replied, slicing into the cake and handing him a piece. “And maybe I’ll even throw in a victory dance.”

He nearly choked on his cake from laughing so hard. “Please tell me you’re not serious about the dance.”

“I’m dead serious,” I said, trying to keep a straight face. “It’ll be legendary. You’ll win the race and I’ll be the talk of the paddock for my sweet moves.”

He shook his head, still laughing. “Now I’m even more motivated to win, just to see this ‘legendary’ dance.”

After we finished the cake, we collapsed onto the bed, both of us a little too full and a lot too happy. Lando was still wearing the plastic crown, and I couldn’t help but giggle every time I looked at him.

“You know,” he said, turning to me with a grin, “this has been the best celebration ever. No fancy dinners, no big parties—just us, being goofy.”

I leaned in, resting my head on his shoulder. “That’s because it’s real. And you deserve to enjoy every second of it, without any pressure.”

He wrapped an arm around me, pulling me close. “Thanks. I needed this. It’s easy to get caught up in everything, but tonight, I feel like I can just be me. With you.”

I reached up and took the crown off his head, placing it on mine. “Well, tomorrow, the Speed King is going to show everyone what he’s made of. And McLaren is going to be that much closer to winning it all.”

Lando grinned and leaned in to kiss me, his lips warm and soft against mine. “I couldn’t do it without you, you know. You make this all so much better.”

As the night wore on and we finally started to drift off to sleep, Lando whispered, “No matter what happens tomorrow, this is my favorite victory.”

I smiled, cuddling closer to him. “Mine too. But just so you know, I’m ready for another cake tomorrow.”

He chuckled softly. “You better start practicing that victory dance then.”

#fanfiction #reader insert #f1 #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #fanfic #fluff #lando norris x y/n #lando norris x reader #lando norris #lando norris x you #lando x reader #italien gp

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seonghwaddict · 9 months ago

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ateez’s favourite positions — masterlist

requested by anon. genre. hc, smut rating. mature. warnings. sexual content mdni, various sex positions, nicknames n stuff. wc. 768.

[ lilo’s notes . . . ] thank you for requesting~ i had to do research for this and like… why are there so many names for the same positions??? and some of these are such weird obscure names i genuinely stared at my screen so blankly cuz who came up with these- not only that but some of the positions i saw looked SO UNCOMFORTABLE??? anyways, moving on and if you aren’t familiar with these position… i suggest looking them up because i will NOTTTTT be providing any links 😁

hongjoong

face sitting. when he says sit on his face he means sit on it. he likes how his mouths drives you wild and how you have to stop yourself from just grinding on his face—he’d lift you for like two seconds to encourage you to do just that. and you see that couch in his studio? yeah i’m not gonna elaborate.

“baby, sit.”

seonghwa

missionary. when he’s not torturing you with his tongue, he likes to fuck you deep and slow. missionary may sound very plain, but occasionally he’ll throw in a blindfold or some restraints. almost if the time, though, he wants it to be just you and him. he likes this position so he can see your face clearly, watching the way you unravel with each frustratingly slow grind of his hips.

“hm, look at you… so pretty and all for me.”

yunho

backseat driver. he’s not very picky about positions, but he does like having you in his lap while he’s gaming. whether it’s him ending a game badly and needing relief right there or you wanting to tease and distract him, he will always revel in the subtle arch of your back and bounce of your tits, having to keep both you and himself quiet when he’s on a call and playing with his friends.

“keep it down, yeah? we don’t want everyone to hear you like this, now do we?”

yeosang

leap frog. he’s an ass guy idc what ANYONE says. if you’re telling me he won’t stare at the way your ass bounces against pelvis, you’re dead wrong. he likes to reach over and give your clit some attention too. yeosang also leans down to kiss your back sweetly while also fucking you like his life depends on it. guys i am DEEP in yeosang brain rot rn if i continue i fear i won’t be able to stop.

“get your face out of that pillow, pretty girl. let me hear you.”

san

spooning. i think that, yes, occasionally he’d like to be rough, but i will NEVER back down from my soft dom!san agenda. in this position, he’s able to hold you and keep you warm and make you feel good all over. the technicalities(?) of spooning you feels good for the two of you—your thighs pressed together making your walls hug him tighter. this is also a good position for him to gently fuck you to sleep at the end of the day. also: comforting kisses all over your shoulders and the back of your neck… he just wants to make you feel nice and comfortable and keep you safe in his arms :(

“just relax, baby… you know i’ll take care of you.”

mingi

tabletop. if no one’s around, he’ll risk taking you right on the kitchen counter. if that’s not possible, he’ll lick the bedroom door and sweep any items off his desk and take you there. there’s something about seeing you say somewhere and being the one standing between your legs and coaxing orgasm after orgasm out you that makes his insides feel all hot and tingly. this also give the two of you good access to kiss each other all over your torsos.

“i’ve got you, doll, just give me one more, i know you can do it.”

wooyoung

ballet dancer. specifically against a wall, or door, or window, or- you get the point. any vertical surface will do. one hand on your waist or breast or neck and the other hitching your thigh around his hips. sometimes he’ll be fucking you so well, your nails dig into the skin of his shoulders or chest—he really likes that.

“does that feel good, jagi? yeah? i’ll keep doing that then, but make sure i can hear those pretty sounds, hm?”

jongho

cowgirl. don’t be fooled, though you may be on top, he’s still in control. he lets you fuck yourself on his dick for a bit and when you close, he’ll flip you over so quickly you get whiplash. but that’s on days where he’s feeling like a menace. other than that, he does actually love the sight of you on top of him, claiming him as yours. he doesn’t have a preference for sitting or laying down, he’s perfectly happy as long he can see your fucked out and desperate face.

“there you go… you take me so well…”

　　[ networks ... ] @cromernet @wonderlandnet

　　[ perm taglist — open ... ] @ad0rechuu @sankatchu @mlink64 @yeosangsbb @seonghwasbbgirl @likexaxdaydream @dreamingofyeo

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unknownmystery22 · 5 months ago

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Little Do You Know -Lando Norris

Summary: Lando finds him jealous, little does he know he has no reason to be.

Warning: Jealousy, slight angst, drinking, slow burn

A/N: look out for a twist

REQUSTS ARE OPEN !!!

You were an upcoming journalist in F1. You were young and charismatic. Naturally people in the paddock were attracted to you and tried to make an move on you. You never really cared about any of them you had your eyes on a certain Papaya brit.

Speak of the devil "Hi Y/N, looking good" Lando said. "Thank you Lando, you don't look too bad yourself. Best of luck for today He simply grinned and said "Well seeing you just made me a whole lot luckier" you just looked down to hide your blush which you were pretty sure Lando had noticed. Oscar called Lando for team meeting "See you around, gorgeous" he said cheekily and went away.

This had been going on for a while you both flirted here and there but never really made a move. You were close friends with some of them like Max and Charles they were aware of your feelings towards Lando and would tease you relentlessly.

The race went well. Max won again wow, shocking. Charles was P2 and Lando ended up being P3.

After post race interviews, just as you were about to headout. Lando called you out "hey wait!" "Well hello Lan how can I help you ?"you asked turning around. "Well I just wanted to ask if you will be coming to the party later" He replied. "Ofcourse Lan I wouldn't miss it" you said. He just grinned and said "Just making sure my lucky charm is gonna be there". You just smiled and rolled you eyes and went away.

*skip to evening*

You were all dressed up maybe a little too much for a certain someone. You heard someone knock your door. You opened up to find THE Lewis Hamilton at you door. "Well Hello gorgeous, if you don't look ravishing. All dressed up for a certain papaya driver perhaps" He asks wiggling his eyebrows. You just slap him in the shoulder and say "Can we get going already". "Oh! Eager to meet your boyfriend ha" He asks teasingly " He is not my boyfriend" you said. "Not yet" he replied.

You entered the club with Lewis holding my hand to protect me from the paparazzi. As soon as you entered you could see people stare at you. It made you feel much more confident.

Lando spotted you from where he was talking to Max and Oscar. He looked at you and starstruck till he saw who was next to you. "Since when are they close ?" He asks to no one in particular. Max just chokes on his drink and says "Wait! Mate you really don't know?" Lando just grumbles and says "Not that it concerns me". Oscar just replies sarcastically "Sure".

You walk over to Lando smiling "Hi Lan". Lando just mumbles a Hi and brushed past you still figuring how he missed out you and Lewis being close. You found his behaviour strange and to be honest it hurt a little. "What's up with him ?" You asked to other two. Max just shrugged innocently whereas Oscar said "He is just being a idiot".

You were feeling down since the whole reason you came was for him. Lewis comes over to you as he noticed the whole ordeal "Hey, let him be don't let him ruin the night for you, sweetheart" he drags you to VIP section and gets you a few drinks. Though in the VIP section with your friends and colleagues you couldn't help think over to Lando. As you looked around you saw him standing with Charles and talking with a few girls. You felt so hurt at that moment. Lewis followed your line sight "Love, come on don't read too much into it" He said trying to comfort you he wrapped his arms around you.

Lando saw Lewis wrapping his arms around you and the man swears if looks could kill Lewis would be dead for sure. He couldn't care less about the girl next to him trying to talk to him. Charles suddenly asks "Okay, what's up with you ? You are here with me instead of being with your girl".

Lando grumbles "She is not my girl and she certainly has company" looking over to Lewis. Charles looks over to see Lewis and it finally hits Charles and he starts laughing so bad. Lando looks bewildered "What's so funny ?" Charles still laughing replies "Dude you are jealous of her stepbrother" Lando looks like deer caught in headlight "WHA- Since when OMG! I just messed up. She will be mad at me. I am so dumb for god-" Charles interrupts him mid sentence "you better go now" Lando straightens himself up and goes over to her.

"Umm Y/N.. can I talk to you for a second" Lando asked. You stood up from your place near Lewis and went with him outside to little quite place "So now you want to talk ?" you sass. Lando now embarrassed tells "You are probably going to hate me right now but as soon as I saw you with Lewis I assumed the worst, I was jealous that's why I was grumpy. I really like you Y/N and I thought I lost my chance so I pani-". You interrupted his rambling "Wait first of all you though I was with Lewis: with disgust on your face "Ew" "and second how did you NOT know that Lewis is my brother, well Stepbrother".

Lando just rubbed his neck "guess I am just dumb"

"Well, that's obvious. And for the record I like you too if that wasn't oblivious.

Lando grinned "So that means you are up for a date with me ?".

"I am pretty sure that is what I meant when I said I like you even if you are a dork" you reply.

Lando just comes closer and says "You wouldn't mind if I kissed you right now ?"

"I would mind if you didn't" you say

He just cups your face and kisses you deeply.

Little did he know the night would lead him to this.

#lando norris fanfic #lando norris x reader #charles leclerc x reader #lando norris smut #max verstappen x reader #lewis hamilton fanfiction #lewis hamilton x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #fluff

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fangirl-dot-com · 11 months ago

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Lewis Hamilton and George Russel - I'm with a Knight and Slenderman, No One Can Touch Me

It’s part 4 time! This was so fun to write and I laughed so hard at some parts. I feel like George is a really underrated driver. He’s funny and a good person (even though he looks like Woody from Toy Story). And the girlfriend effect has hit him hard. His hair is so beautiful and I need to know what he does with his bangs.

And then Sir Lewis – good Lord, he needs to go back to that one hairstyle from that one interview that made everyone fall for him

Specially dedicated to @treehouse-mouse <3

[TAG LIST IS CLOSED]

Like always, comments, questions, concerns, likes, and reblogs are always appreciated! Love you all <;3

“Shit,” you muttered as you looked around the now empty paddock. You knew that taking a nap after your media duties had been done was a bad idea. You had played nap roulette with yourself and were now paying the consequences. You shouldn’t have said “oh, I won’t set an alarm. Someone will come get me. I might nap for ten minutes or it might be 3 hours. Who knows!”

Well, now you knew. It was three hours.

You looked around for your backpack that you had come with. But as your eyes danced around the garage, it was nowhere to be found. You sighed as you at least remembered your phone. But alas, the world hated you for being a woman: your phone was dead.

“Ok, there’s no reason to panic. Let’s head to the parking lot and see if someone is still here,” you whispered to yourself. Walking carefully, you exited the dark paddock. The parking lot was no different.

Dark, cold, and empty.

“Great. Just great.” You decided to sit on a curb and wait. Maybe by now, Christian or Max would know that you are missing, and will come back to get you.

Or maybe they were mad at you. Yes, you were on the podium. As a rookie. At your first race.

But you made a mistake that costed the team a 1-2 finish. Maybe you didn’t deserve to be looked for.

Before your thoughts could spiral more, two bright headlights blinded you. You raised a hand to try to cover at least some of your face. The two front doors of the car swung open. Your heart started to race.

It was just you out here and they might be kidnappers.

“Please I have no money on me. Don’t beat me up or kidnap me. Trust, you do not want to sell me or anything like that,” you spoke out, trying to hinder their unknown wants for you. Your fear slowly melted away at a familiar grandpa laugh and bean-pole build of the two figures.

“Lewis! George!” You stood up quickly.

“What are you doing out here?” George peered down. Your neck was bent to even look up at him.

“Um. I might have been left behind because I was taking a nap. And my phone is also dead.” You sheepishly grinned at the two.

Lewis sighed before bringing out his phone. “I don’t have Christian’s number, but Toto does. Let me give him a call.”

Your head cocked. “Do you not have Max’s number?” George let out a laugh.

“Kid. Think of Abu Dhabi 2021.” Your eyes widened.

“Sorry.”

Lewis waved you off and walked a bit aways to hear Toto. George just kind of stared at you as you stared at him.

“Are you ok?”

“Of course I’m ok. I’m with a knight,” you pointed at Lewis, “and Slenderman. No one can touch me.” You crossed your arms before giggling. George just gawked at your boldness. You took this time to look at the nice Mercedes in front of you. “Is this the new model?”

George nodded. “Yeah, Lewis just got it. He won’t let me drive it though.” A pout formed on his lips.

“I get what you mean. Max won’t let me drive his Ferrari.”

“Why would you want to drive that junk?”

Your head tilted. “I don’t know. I like my Porsches better though.” It was George’s time to raise an eye brow. “I haven’t gotten them yet. But they’ll be ready soon. I had to ship one to London and the other to Monaco.”

“Ah.”

You looked at Lewis, who was still on the phone. You had an idea.

A very bad one, but an idea none-the-less.

“You wanna go somewhere?” You pointed at the still running car. Lewis should have taken the keys.

“Where would we go?” George was already grinning like the Cheshire cat.

“There’s a burger king a couple of miles away.”

George was already climbing into the driver’s side. “Let’s get going!”

Back with Lewis, he was still on the phone. For some reason, Toto would still not give him Christian’s number.

“Please Toto, I am with two children,” he pinched his brow, “and I’m tired and I’d like to get back to the hotel. So please send me Max’s or Christian’s number.” He wasn’t aware of his car that was now filled with said two children making their getaway. He hung up once he got Max’s number.

His phone rang for a few seconds before Max’s voice sounded over the background noise of a party.

“Who is this?”

“It’s Lewis. You left your kid here.” He heard Max curse on the other side.

“I thought Vito was getting her, but Vito is right at the bar. Can you send me your location so I can pick her up?”

Lewis waved a hand, even though Max couldn’t see it. “No worries, I can just drop her off. I’m with George and we’ll driver her over. I have my-” Lewis stopped.

“Lewis? Are you there?”

Lewis’ eyes scanned the now empty parking lot. He groaned. “They took my car!”

Max laughed for a bit before he realized that Lewis wasn’t playing. “Send my your location, I’m already out the door. We’ll find them.”

By the time Max got to Lewis, you and George were already having the time of your lives.

You pointed out the window. “Look Georgie. Traffic cones. Have you ever put one on your head?”

When George denied that he had, you gasped and told him to pull over. You and him climbed out of the low car and walked over to the traffic cones. By now, your phone was a bit charged, courtesy of the charger in the vehicle. And it was blowing up.

But you didn’t see it or care.

You picked up one of the cones and put it on your head. Your giggle resonated through it.

“Y/n, smile!” You heard George say. You smiled, even though it wouldn’t be seen under the orange hat.

George told you that he was going to set up the camera to take a picture of the two of you.

“Let’s put our heads together.” The two cones whacked against the other. George had to bend over so that they would be close.

You laughed as your hair was staticky due to the cone. George’s hair was the same, which made you laugh even harder. “Send that to me, I’m going to post in on the gram.”

The only notification you looked at was the one from George with the picture. Quicky uploading it, you knew you were about to create even more chaos.

The two of you decided to sit on the curb for a bit. Your thoughts from earlier quickly sprang into your head, due to the silence between you two.

“George?” you questioned, looking ahead. He was currently scrolling through his phone, but he made a noise to let you know that he was listening.

“What was it like having a teammate that you know you’ll never amount to? Not saying that you won’t amount to Lewis at some point, but,” you trailed off, not knowing how to continue.

The click of his phone let you know that George was now focused on the conversation.

“I get what you mean. It’s very overwhelming. You get put up with world champions, and people are already expecting you to beat records and perform as well as they do.” George sighed as he reflected on his first year with Mercedes. How the people would taunt that he wasn’t good enough to be Lewis’s teammate and that he should just be second fiddle to him. Suddenly, he noticed a hand had been placed on his shoulder. Tears also wetted his face.

When had he started crying?

You continued to rub his shoulder until his tears stopped.

You tried to console him. “Well, we can be second-fiddle buddies together?” you offered, hoping he would laugh. And he did.

The two of you decided to sit on the curb for a few more minutes. But at this point, you knew that Lewis along with Max were probably on their way to get you. You pulled yourself up, then held out a hand to George, who took it without second thought.

Before you knew it, the two of you were back in the car, just chilling.

“Look what Max and Lewis are saying.” You showed him the screen and laughed. It really was fun to mess with old men.

“Are we still going to burger king?”

You nodded your head. “If Lewis can be a knight, I need a crown to be the king.”

“Don’t you mean queen?” he asked as he started the car back up again.

“Nope.” You popped the P and that was a good enough answer. George pulled away from the side of the street and made his way to the Burger King. The two of you were thankful that it was mostly empty, except for the employees. The two of you ordered more than enough food for two people. You justified it as giving the workers more money.

Your companion went along with it.

“Order number 69,” the tired lady called out. George and you shared a look before the two of you collapsing on the ground, dying with laughter and probably exhaustion. You were still giggling as you took the food from the lady. You muttered a thank you before you and George took a table near the back.

“Did you get your slushie?” you questioned, holding your cup.

“I didn’t know they had slushies!”

You took George’s hand and let him over to the machine. The amount of slushies that you slurped down would never be recorded. As you drank one of your last ones, you suddenly remembered an important detail.

You looked over at the tired lady who took your order. “Do you have the crowns?”

Max was still constantly trying to reach you, with one hand on the steering wheel and his phone in the other.

“Come on kid. Pick up,” he pleaded and cursed when the call went to voicemail for the umpteenth time that night.

Lewis was texting all the drivers in the group chat, asking if they’d seen the two of you. They came up short.

“This is ridiculous,” Max seethed. “How could you have let them do this?”

Lewis shot him a glare. “How could you leave her at the paddock after dark?” he bit back.

“Like I said, Vito was supposed to take her back to the hotel. She’s not allowed in the clubs.”

“Then Christian should find some way for everyone to party. The kid got a podium her first race as a rookie, and she was left behind.”

Max banged his head on the steering wheel as they stopped at a red light. Lewis was correct. He wondered if you felt forgotten. Knowing you, you probably did. And it was mostly his fault. He’d talk to Christian about alternatives until you turned legal age.

“I’ll talk to Christian about that. What were you and George doing back at the paddock anyway?”

Lewis grimaced. “I forgot a file back at our garage. George seemed antsy and restless so I invited him. Never doing that again.”

Max smirked, “Kids. Am I right?”

“Look!” Lewis pointed at a familiar car in the parking lot of an empty Burger King. Max pulled in on two wheels. As they walked up, their eyes landed on two people, crowns on their heads, hands flailing.

Max pushed the door open and stopped towards the figures. His hands landed aggressively on the table. “Do you two know how much trouble you’re in.”

He heard laughing from behind him.

“Max. That’s not them,” Lewis whispered.

Max’s head jerked and saw the scared faces of two employees. He heard more laughing and whipped his head around, eyes finally falling on you and George, whose phone was out recording. You looked as if you were about to explode with laughter.

“I’m sorry about that.” He turned around and stomped towards your table. “Let’s try this again.”

His palms hit the correct table this time. “Do the two of you know how much trouble you are in?” He looked into your eyes before glancing at George.

You stared up at the seething Dutchman. You pulled out a french fry.

“Fry?”

“Lewis, I got you an impossible whopper.” George held out the wrapped food.

Max sighed, anger waning by the minute. There was no fighting with the two of you. The two adult-figures sat down and started to eat. Max munched on a fry as Lewis started to eat the burger.

You and George continued to talk about your so-called adventures.

“And then George ran a red light.”

Lewis choked as George winced. Lewis’s head jerked toward George, eyes squinting.

“You’re paying for that.” George only shrugged, he had enough money anyway.

Max just stared in silence, mulling over the exhausting night. You could sense that he was still cooling off, and you were scared of what he might say in the car.

The food was quickly finished and the four of you were headed out the door. It seemed as though yours and George’s energy levels were quickly tanking as the two of you barely said a goodbye. The hug and faux tears though were enough for Lewis and Max to roll their eyes.

You watched as George and Lewis left in the Mercedes. You gulped as you got into the passenger side of Max’s rental vehicle. You winced at the proximity.

You mind quickly went back to your dad. How he’d hit the side of your face if you did anything that was “out of line.” Or he’d pinch your thigh until it bruised. Those were the easiest to hide. When your face was a little too red and purple, your helmet stayed on for the entire race day.

Your eyes welled with tears at the thought of Max turning out to be like him. You didn’t think he would, but you were out of line tonight.

No fun. No sneaking out. No stealing (borrowing) cars.

You were sinking into yourself, and Max could sense that.

He turned to look at you. What he said next was shocking.

“I’m sorry kid.”

Your eyes bulged. “Why are you sorry? If anything, I should be on my knees begging for your forgiveness.”

Max just stared at you before slowly putting his hand near your head.

This was it. He was going to hit you and you’d have to live through everything again. You couldn’t tell Christian that his golden-child would do such a thing. And no one would ever believe you.

You jerked back as your eyes closed tight. Your body tensed, waiting for the repercussion to your actions. Your breaths got a little bit faster and shorter.

But it never came.

All that was, was a gentle placed hand on the top of your head.

Comforting. Loving. Cherishing.

Max wanted to cry as he saw how your body prepared for something horrible. Something nasty.

“Kleintje,” Max breathed out.

Your tears began to make their escape down the hills of your cheeks. You could only repeat and whisper I’m sorry, over and over again. Max couldn’t do anything but wait for you to calm down and maybe tell him what was racing through your head.

Your breathing evened out as you felt there was nothing coming. Soon you were embarrassed for thinking that Max, one of the only people to seem to care about you, would do such a thing. Yet, your mind always went back to your patterns.

People who should care, didn’t. Hands that were made for comforting, didn’t. Encouragements didn’t exist…for you.

Maybe you were the problem.

But, maybe you weren’t. You’d allow some comfort, just this once.

Max cooed as you leaned into his hand. He knew you were tired. A long day of racing and a long night of adventures would really do that to you.

He didn’t expect you to explain to so quickly. But you knew how to surprise someone.

“My dad and mom, weren’t the nicest. They wanted a boy, got me instead.” You harshly exhaled. “They put me in karting because if they had had a boy, they would have done the same. I was just a placeholder.”

Max listened, wanting to hear what you said.

“It started off small. A push here, a hit to the helmet there. I really didn’t think anything of it. Until I was about 7 and I crashed my kart on the last lap. I was going to win too, but I over compensated and hit the wall. All I remember after that race was my dad grabbing my wrist and yanking me to the car. I hit my head on the dash, I think. Or he was the one to push my head in.” You shrugged at the nasty memory, as if it didn’t matter.

Max on the other hand, was getting angrier. Yes, his dad did similar things, but he was a boy. He could stand up for himself. And he had his mom and sister.

You had no one.

“The next morning, I woke up and there was this giant bruise on my face and smaller ones littered my arms. I thought that was the end of it, except it continued. I was able to hide it pretty well. My race suit pretty much covered everything. I also didn’t have many friends, or, I just didn’t have friends. So there, wasn’t a need to worry. They stopped after I made it to the end of F4, because I was winning and there were more cameras. The moment I made it to F3 in 2019, they disowned me.”

He did the math. You would have been 16 at the time. Still a kid, but smaller. His heart broke for you.

“Kid, look at me.”

You turned your head and made eye contact. Your brows furrowed when you saw tears in his eyes.

He wasn’t supposed to cry. Why was he crying?

“I’m crying because no one should ever have to go through something like that.” Oh, you must have said that out loud.

You shrugged once again, “I probably deserved it.”

“No, geitje, no one deserves that. Ever. You didn’t.” You could only nod along. Your eyes were getting tired by the minute. Max could tell so he started the car. He only had one more thing to say. (translation : kid)

“My dad did similar things. But I had people to help me. And I know your dad isn’t around, but Y/n,” he said your name, trying to emphasize that he was serious. “I am here for you. Christian is here for you. Mitch is here and so is Vito. We love you. I’m not a good teammate, and you can see that I’ve gone through more teammates than anyone else has in the amount of time I’ve been here. I’m the only constant. But I think that we will actually work out. Best duo right?”

For the first time since Burger King, where you and him were still parked, he saw your eyes light up.

You nodded, “Best duo.”

Max finally took that as a sign that you’d be ok for the night. He carefully back the car out and started on the road toward the hotel.

“Do you think Christian will let me come to the club next race.”

Max let out a sarcastic laugh. “Definitely not.”

Your giggles filled the small space. Max’s heart swelled at making you laugh.

You’d be all right. He’d make sure of it.

AN: oh my gosh that got REAL depressing – I apologize. But, Max needed to know a bit more about your lore if he’s going to be able to fend off any unwanted visitors (FORESHADOWING). Anyway, I will see you all at the next chapter! Muah! Much love <3 – author :D

Tag List : @awekbachira @lightdragonrayne @leilanixx @angsthology @topguncultleader @landosgirlxoxo @gods-menace @itsjustkhaos @thefandomswhre @alwaysboredsworld @vellicora @bintuabbas @sam-is-lost @empress-kimiko @assholeinatrenchcoat @kagatinkita @glitterquadricorn @zyonsay @tsukishimawhore @ashy-kit @agent-curt-mega @julesbabey @lydialawrence @stopeatread @claudia5912 @nichmeddar @blueberry64857959 @laura-naruto-fan1998 @leptitlu @alessioayla @badassturtle13 @kaaale @wcnorris @cool-ultra-nerd @hockeyboysarehot @agent-curt-mega @myxticmoon @cmleitora @sam-is-lost @misartymis @boiohboii @alexander-hamilhoe @jayda12 @indesicivelyconfuzzled @fangirl125reader @itscrzy @xcharlottemikaelsonx @fionaschicken @torchbearerkyle @ineedafictionalman @loaksmuntxa @classiclitfreak @sarcasm-ismy-onlydefense @luisie @jayda12 @comfortzonequeen @taylor-will-be-the-death-of-me @inejghafawifesblog

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reminiscingtonight · 1 year ago

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Cruel Summer

Lia Wälti x Reader

Word Count: 3.7k

A/N: Based on Cruel Summer by Taylor Swift

[WOSO Masterlist]

There’s a loud rev outside your apartment.

Despite it being the dead of the night, there’s an idiot lighting up the night, echoes of their engine blasting through the air.

If it was any other night, you would ignore it. If you hadn’t just finished one of the most important games of your life and flown hours back to your cozy little home in England, you would have ignored it. But you’re tired. The type of tired that seeps so deep into your bones that nothing but peace and quiet (and lots of sleep) could fix.

The engine’s been blasting for nearly five minutes now, seemingly no resolution in sight. With no other choice, you roll out of bed, whipping open your curtains and throwing up the window, ready to give the driver a piece of your mind.

What you see makes you roll your eyes instead, a tired smile making its way across your face.

“Lia, it’s twelve-thirty. What are you doing out here?”

Your best friend grins right back. “Jail break. Come on!”

You raise an eyebrow when Lia gestures for you to come downstairs and hop into her passenger seat. “It’s twelve-thirty,” you repeat. “Can’t you come jail break me at a more acceptable time? Like, let’s say, eleven tomorrow morning?”

“Boo,” she groans. “We haven’t seen each other in so long. You’re really going to make me wait another eleven hours to get my (Y/N) fix?”

Lip twitching in amusement, you shake your head.

Even though she’s parked on the street, still some distance away, you can see her pout crystal clear.

She doesn’t even have to say another word before you’re ducking back into your room.

It’s not like you can ever say no to Lia.

It only takes you five minutes to make yourself look presentable before you’re slipping out the front door and into Lia’s car.

Lia looks more than a little pleased at her success and it takes all your self-control to not smack (or kiss) the smirk off her face.

“Where to?”

She gives you a look.

The night ends like how it always does.

You pressed between Lia and a mattress, lips slotted together all hot and needy, every touch exchanged feeling more and more like heaven.

---

You’re used to it by now.

The late night phone calls followed by mindblowing, worldchanging--

Let’s just say Lia’s good. Like really good.

But what you’re also used to is mornings waking up to a sleepy smile shot your way. Face pressed to your neck, arms around your waist as Lia doesn’t want you to leave. Hands in yours as you stroll through Sunday morning farmer markets. Quiet afternoons curled up together on the couch, Lia reading her book of the week and you watching your tv show.

So yeah, the sex is good. But so is the domesticity you’ve created.

Lia made it clear from the beginning.

“I’m hot, you’re hot, let’s bang,” she had said with a smirk. Though a joke, you both knew she was being serious.

One night led to two, two into three, and soon she was calling you almost every night.

This was just sex. After her relationship with Caitlin ended all Lia wanted was some physical release, nothing more, nothing less.

“No feelings,” Lia tried to act stern, though with her hand down your pants and you being slightly distracted by her mesmerizing eyes, neither of you really paid those words much attention.

But you agreed.

You agreed to ‘meaningless, best lay of your life’ sex even though you’ve been in love with Lia for as long as you’ve known her. And with each night you spend together you find yourself falling more and more for her.

“Do you ever…” you trail off, eyes fixated to the ceiling above you.

Lia’s laying on her side, fingers lightly tracing your ribs as she tangles your legs together under the blankets. Nights like these come more often than not. You don’t remember the last time you spent the night apart. Having sex always seemed like an excuse for Lia to ask you to stay the night and you definitely weren’t going to complain.

Her eyes drift from where they’ve been ghosting over your skin, no shame present in her eyes for how much she was ogling you.

“Do I ever what?”

You swallow, trying to act nonchalant. “Ever think about what it would be like. If we… If we gave this a go.”

A furrow appears between Lia’s eyebrows, the Swiss frowning as she tries to understand what you’re saying. “‘Gave us a go�� as in… date?”

You shrug. “Would it really be that bad of an idea?”

It’s silent for a moment as Lia takes in your words. You can practically see the gears turning in her head, the brunette worrying her bottom lip between her teeth as she tries to work through her thoughts.

When Lia sits up a bit, shuffling so she is half hovering over you, the blanket pulled over her shoulder slips down, pooling down by her waist.

It takes everything in your power to keep your eyes glued firmly above her collarbone, trying not to drool over all her exposed skin.

It’s a bit embarrassing, the effect Lia has on you. You still turn into a blushing mess whenever she pulls you into bed with her. Your mouth still goes dry whenever she gives you a grin, whenever her perfect lips and perfect voice says your name.

“(Y/N), I care about you. And I know you care about me.”

You nod, but Lia has a look on her face. She’s not done with whatever’s on her mind.

Every nerve in your body is screaming for there not to be a “but”.

“And this,” the way her eyes trail down your body makes it no mystery what exactly Lia’s referring to, and you flush red at her attention, “this is definitely worth every second of every day.”

You want to come home to this every day. You want to tell Lia how much you love her every day. There is so much you want.

Lia leans forward and you’re not able to stop the way your eyes flutter shut, lips burning where hers touches yours. Kissing Lia will always be one of your favorite things. There’s nothing like it. She lets out a quiet, happy sigh when you break apart, leaving a hand splayed over your bare stomach when she lays back.

“This is heaven. Why break something that’s not broken?”

But what you want isn’t what she wants.

And that’s what makes this so much worse.

Lia’s eyes are on the ceiling now, fingers still tracing absentminded shapes on your skin. “I don’t want to screw anything up between us, alright? And things are just, they’re so good right now. I don’t want to add anything that could mess this up.”

It feels like your throat’s closing up, your heart squeezing and crumbling to pieces right in front of you.

She’s looking your way now, and you realize Lia’s waiting for you to say something. For you to reassure her she’s making the right move.

You don’t want it to be the right move.

Of course you’d fall for the most basic of all tropes. Falling in love with your best friend. Falling into bed with the best friend you’re in love with.

Falling in love with someone who so obviously doesn’t love you back.

You give her a curt nod, hoping Lia can’t notice the way you’ve slightly stiffened. It feels like glass when you clear your throat, every nerve in your body screaming at you to run. To protect what little you still have of your own heart.

But you were never good at self-preservation.

“No, no, I, uh, I totally get it.” It’s hard to ignore the sinking feeling in your stomach, the burning sensation prickling behind your eyes. But you do it. Because it’s Lia. Because she’s asking you not to change anything between the two of you.

“The summer’s supposed to be fun, not complicated.”

It hurts, the way you see her shoulders relax at your words.

Lia shoots you a soft smile, pressing a kiss to the fingers you have tangled together. It’s almost natural, the way she rolls back on top of you, elbows landing on either side of your head. Your heart feels like it’s going to beat out of your chest when she leans down, breath hitting your lips as she stays just out of reach. There’s a sparkle in her eyes as Lia bites down on her bottom lip. You’re unable to stop yourself from looking right at her mouth, the brunette knowing exactly just what to do to drive you crazy.

“Speaking of fun… I think the two of us have a lot more fun to be had.”

And when Lia kisses you again, so full of passion but so lacking of feeling, you let her.

After all, you’ll take whatever she’s willing to give you.

Even if it tears you apart.

---

One week.

That’s how long Lia’s been out of town for. She had a little girl’s trip with Ana, a trip she tried convincing you to come along on. But you knew how much Lia’s been missing her best friend so you let her go off alone.

Lia had kissed you goodbye at the airport, in your car of course, promising to call you when she got back.

And now she’s back.

You’ve been bouncing off the walls at the chance to see her again.

It should honestly scare you, the hold Lia has over you. She’s so addicting, something you crave every second of the day. And the week spent apart has only exacerbated your need to be near her.

It’s a little past midnight when you pull up to her house.

Sneaking through the garden, you make it to Lia’s door in record time.

Your hands are shaky but you play it off as nerves, rolling your shoulders back before rapping your knuckles against the door. The grin on your face hasn’t fallen since you made the decision to surprise Lia. It’s usually Lia making these secret trips out without informing you she was heading over. But oh how the tables have turned.

It isn’t until the third time you knock without any response that your smile slips off your face.

Frowning, you look down at your phone. The [I’ve made it back!] text you received from Lia a couple hours ago seems to mock you as you turn your attention back towards the door.

Of course you could always call Lia to see where she’s at, but the small part of you that still knows shame knows how desperate that would look.

You could practically imagine the smirk on Lia’s face as she teases you for not being able to go a week without seeing her.

You drop your head against the door with a dejected thump.

Maybe Lia was busy tonight. It’s not like the two of you don’t have any other friends who have stayed in England during the off season.

So much for your attempt to surprise her.

Standing up with sigh, you turn around, fully intending to head back home. And then the door swings open.

Lia’s breathing hard, shirt hastily buttoned up, wild sort of look in her eyes as she leans against her door frame, squinting into the dark night to look at you.

You have to blink to make sure you’re not seeing things.

Lips swollen, hair mused, it doesn’t take a genius to know what Lia’s been up to.

“Sorry, I um, I was busy.” Lia clears her throat, hands coming up to run through her messy hair. “I didn’t forget any plans of ours, did I?”

Shaking your head, you shove your hands into your pockets. There’s an urge to flee on the spot, but you muster enough courage to just shuffle in place, clearing your throat as you try to stop your heart from crumbling to pieces. “No, it’s… I just wanted to see if you wanted to go out. But uh, I can see that you have some company so I’m just gonna go.”

Lia swallows nervously, hand darting out before you can turn away. You fight the urge to flinch at the contact, watching as Lia begins fidgeting uncomfortably instead.

“I didn’t know you were coming.” She sounds small, and something about it makes you curious, but the bigger part of you just wants to flee home and drown your embarrassment in a big tub of ice cream.

You were thinking of Lia the entire time she was gone but it’s clear she wasn’t thinking about you. And that’s on you. Not her.

You clear your throat again, trying to plaster on a fake smile on your face. “Lia, it’s fine, it’s cool. It’s not like we have any rules in place so you’re free to do whatever you want with whoever you want.”

She frowns, but you’re quick to drop your eyes to the ground when you notice her trying to gauge where your emotions are at.

You know you have no right to be jealous. That she’s not yours to be possessive over. As much as you want her to be yours, she didn’t want you the same way and that’s just something you’d have to deal with on your own.

“Okay,” Lia breathes out slowly, hand gently releasing her grip on your arm. “I’ll, um… I’ll see you tomorrow then?”

You give her a small nod. “Of course.”

When Lia pulls you into bed with her the next day after dinner, you pretend not to notice the bruises littering her skin.

Bruises that aren’t your doing.

Bruises that serve as a reminder that Lia holds all the power to kill you slowly.

And you wouldn’t stop her from doing it.

---

Laughter and shouts ring through the air, the atmosphere happy and light as the Arsenal girls meet for a couple drinks the second day into the new season. There’s no denying how much you missed the lot of them, the rambunctious bunch having a special place in your heart.

You and Lotte have been lost in conversation for a bit now. The two of you have gotten really close since she returned to her childhood club a couple years ago. So you talk about everything and nothing, just catching up from your time apart over the summer.

“Have you been to that new restaurant that opened down the street?”

You nod. “Yeah! Lia and I stopped by there a couple weeks ago. They have some pretty good seafood.”

Lotte’s eyes light up and she goes off into a tangent about her favorite seafood places. You sit back with a fond smile, loving the enthusiasm of the young girl.

You’re nodding along to something she says when you feel it. You nearly jump out of your seat at what feels like a foot kicking yours. Hard.

Looking up, you make eye contact with Lia. There’s a slight frown on her lips as she pretends to listen to something Steph is telling her.

You tilt your head in question but she just huffs, turning back to her conversation with Steph.

Shrugging, you don’t think too much about the interaction.

Until it’s nearly thirty minutes later and you excuse yourself to go to the bathroom.

You don’t realize anything’s amiss until you step out of the stall. You almost leap back in fright when you see Lia leaning against the sink, arms crossed.

“Er, hi?” Your greeting comes out more like a question, your surprise at seeing her evident in your tone of voice.

Lia doesn’t say anything, simply watching as you wash your hands. Your eyes keep darting to hers, confused why she followed you in here.

You would be lying if you said you weren’t disappointed that your hookups have seemingly come to a stop now that pre-season has begun, but it’s not like you were really expecting anything more. The two of you have been fairly busy getting back into the swing of things.

But Lia following you to the bathroom reminds you of the nights you spent together that often began like this. An innocent gesture turned shameless and passionate.

So safe to say you’re not really sure what to make of her bathroom visit.

Out of all of the possibilities, you’re definitely not expecting the hostile tone that comes out of her mouth the second you’re done wiping your hands and turning around.

“What was that?” It’s whispered, but you still feel taken aback by how harsh Lia spits out her words.

“What was what?”

You wrack your mind, trying to think of anything you did wrong. The two of you haven’t interacted much tonight. Apart from the greetings when you arrived tonight and saw her already there, the two of you kept mostly to different groups. You’ve spent most of the night laughing with Beth and Lotte while she’s been chatting with Steph and Leah.

“Why did you tell Lotte that we went to the sushi bar together?”

Your eyebrows knit together in confusion at the reminder of your conversation that felt like so long ago. “Uh, because we did? I’m sorry, why do you sound so mad?”

“I’m not mad! I just don’t understand why you had to tell Lotte we went there together.”

“I… what?” you blink, the stiffness of Lia’s body only confusing you even more. “Are you upset that I told Lotte we had dinner together?”

Her mouth shuts with a click, nostrils flaring as you seem to be missing something that Lia’s so clearly fuming about.

“You didn’t want me telling any of our friends, because?” You wait, the silence dragging on, but Lia glares pointedly at a spot right past your ear, refusing to say a word.

You sigh. “Lia, what’s going on?”

Her jaw clenches. “We said it was just going to be a summer thing.”

You nod, confused. “Yeah, and?”

“It’s no longer the summer.”

It’s not the summer anymore, that you know. You and the rest of the girls have been kicking balls around for a couple days already, laughing and joking around as if you guys haven’t been apart for a couple months. As much as you enjoyed your summer with Lia, there’s no denying that you’ve definitely missed the girls a bit, even if being back with the team meant no more late nights sneaking around--

And just like that, everything clicks.

You try to keep your face unchanged despite the realization knocking all of the breath out of your lungs.

“So this is a secret.”

Lia doesn’t say anything but you don’t need her to. Her silence says a thousand words.

And each one cuts to the bone.

“You want me to pretend nothing happened between us? Like the summer meant nothing.” Sadness and anger mixes in your veins. You knew this was coming but it still doesn’t dull the way it hurts.

“The summer was fun. But that’s all it was,” she mutters, eyes still hard.

“The summer was fun,” you repeat, shaking your head in disbelief. “It was fun? That’s really all you have to say?”

“What else is there to say?” It’s snapped back, almost defensive.

You’re left blinking at Lia, heart sinking with every single word spoken. “You can’t be this dense.”

Lia’s lips pinch into a thin line, but the Swiss doesn’t say anything else.

Somehow the silence hurts more than what you know is about to come. “You can’t seriously say you didn’t know how much it meant to me.”

“I don’t--”

“Lia, please. You couldn’t not know.” It’s pathetic, the way you literally beg Lia to acknowledge the truth the two of you have been dancing around.

“We said no rules,” Lia swallows, hand clenching and unclenching by her sides. Her eyes are darting around now, as if she’s looking for some sort of escape.

It’s the way she keeps denying it that cracks your heart even more. It’s the pointed ignorance that makes this hurt much more than the inevitable rejection you know is headed your way.

“I love you, Lia.”

Those words feel both freeing and crushing, finally saying it out loud. You’ve always dreamed about this moment. The moment you finally tell Lia how much you care for her. How much you want to shout your love for her from the rooftops.

Never would you have thought it would come out like this. In backroom bathrooms, makeup ruined with tear stained cheeks as you do your best not to fall apart.

You should have expected the dream to just stay a dream. After all, they never work out the same in the real world.

“I love you and you act as if that’s the worst thing you’ve ever heard.”

Shoulder slumped over, you drop your face into your hands. Though no longer making eye contact, you can still feel the weight of Lia’s gaze on you.

Neither of you say anything else, but no other words are needed. You’ve said your part. Lia’s said hers.

So much for happily ever afters.

It feels crushing, the way Lia doesn’t move to stop you when you brush past her to reach the door. Every step you take feels like a stab to the heart, but you know there’s no going back anymore. There’s no more ignoring what you both know is the truth.

Maybe Lia loves you like you love her. Maybe she wants you just like you do her. But if she doesn’t want to make this a thing, there’s nothing you can do about that.

Hand on the doorknob, you pause, making sure to keep your back to Lia. You breathe in shakingly, pretending like you can’t feel your heart crumbling to nothing in your chest. “You don’t want our friends knowing anything, fine. I won’t say a word about the summer.”

If Lia says anything after that you don’t catch it. You’re letting the door shut behind you, already making your way back to the rest of your teammates.

And when Lia returns to the table minutes later, you’re already faking smiles, pretending like your summer in heaven wasn’t the cruelest thing that’s ever happened to you.

#lia walti x reader #lia walti imagine #woso x reader #woso imagine #Ace writes

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archangeldyke-all · 6 months ago

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Omg I loved the cellmate reader! But imagine if reader broke Sevika outta jail. Like she’s all cool about and when she walks up to Sevikas cell she’s got her hair up in her hat and sevika can’t see who she is until she tilts her head up grinning at her wife.

Sevika is so shocked to see her housewife breaking her outta jail like. The whole way back to Zain Sevika can’t keep her hands to herself, thanking her wife over and over and saying how much she’s gonna reward her for saving her *wink wink*

LOVE

men and minors dni

"this just feels wrong." you mutter as you check yourself out in the mirror. ran chuckles beside you, tugging their skirt farther down their waist.

"fuckin' tell me about it." they grumble.

they look ridiculous. their bangs are pinned back, their eyes have been washed clean of eyeliner-- they really do look like a cop. "the things i do for her." you grumble. ran giggles again.

"wasn't this in your vows? 'for better or worse, in sickness and health, i vow to love you and break you outta prison if you need?'" they tease. you giggle.

"close enough."

you're both dressed as enforcers-- the uniforms are authentic-- stolen from some dead cops.

four years after you first landed yourself in stillwater-- you're going back. this time, you aren't a prisioner, though. and, despite your current outfit, you haven't gotten a new job as a prison guard.

you're going back for sevika.

she took the charges for silco when he got caught up in piltover, and as a result, she's currently in maximum security.

it's been four months since you've seen your wife. and despite the fact that you keep your nose strictly out of silco and sevika's business-- these past four months you've been at the last drop every single night, studying stillwater blue prints and plotting with ran and silco and lock.

it all passes in a blur for you. you're so nervous, and so excited to see your girl, that you don't register much as you make your way to stillwater.

ran does most of the talking. there's not much talking to be done-- the uniforms and badges you're wearing get you in the gates surprisingly easily-- but you're too jittery to do much more than stutter. so ran does most the talking.

you keep your hand on the switchblade tucked into the waist of your enforcer skirt. sevika gifted it to you on your first real date, and she's been teaching you how to defend yourself with it ever since. you've never had to use it, mostly because everyone in the undercity knows you're sevika's, but you won't hesitate to use it now to get to her.

the familiar atmosphere of the prison is comforting, in a strange way. it's where you met sevika, where you got to know her, where you both fell for one another.

and now it's where you're going to reunite again.

the deeper underground you get, the fewer prisoners and the more guards there are. you're starting to get antsy. ran elbows you.

"relax." they grumble. you gulp.

"don't tell me to relax, it' been four fucking months since--"

"oh my god, i know." ran groans. you sigh.

"sorry. i miss her." you mumble. ran chuckles.

"not as much as she misses you." they say. you huff a bit.

despite the rough start to you and ran's friendship-- with you stabbing them the last time they were breaking sevika out of prison-- they've become a good friend of yours. especially since they're the one who's always helping you get sevika out of trouble.

they're also the one who agreed to let you come along tonight. it was meant to be ran and lock, with you as the getaway driver, but you begged to go in. you want to see her as soon as you fucking can.

and then: ran pulls you to a stop.

"prisoner." they mumble, a smile in their voice as they tap their metal fingers against the bars of a cell. your stomach bursts into butterflies when you see the signature flicker of sevika's lighter in the dark cell. you can see her smirk in the brief light, and you nearly burst into tears.

the ring of keys on ran's hip jingles as they pull them off and unlock sevika's cell. you don't hesitate to slam the door open and start sprinting into the cell.

it's the wrong move. sevika's expecting ran and lock, not ran and you: and in the dark, she assumes you're lunging at her to attack her. "wait!" ran calls after you, too late.

a crack rings out in the cell, followed by a groan: sevika socked you right in the nose. "ffffffuck, babe!" you whine, grabbing your nose.

sevika gasps in the dark. then, strong arms are hugging you and you're being pushed out into the hallway-- into the light.

"what the fuck are you doing here?!" sevika cries.

"i--" she doesn't let you answer, shoving her mouth against yours as she backs you up against the concrete wall oppisite her cell.

you moan into her mouth, your nose throbbing in pain, your cunt throbbing in arousal.

her hands trail down to your ass, then sneak up your skirt to start palming your cunt. you whimper, and she growls.

ran clears their throat.

you pull your mouth away from sevika with a gasp, but she doesn't seem to have heard ran-- her mouth ducking down to start sucking hickeys on your neck. she starts grinding the palm of her hand against your wet cunt, and you gasp-- pulling her hair hard. sevika mewls.

"janna, i shoulda brought a spray bottle." ran mumbles.

"s-sev, baby, we gotta go." you whisper, your voice shaking when she sinks her teeth into your neck. she licks the indents her teeth left behind, then stands to her full height, removes her hands from your skirt.

you cuff her wrists, then hook your arm around her elbow, guiding her down the hall as ran leads the two of you.

you've got five minutes before the real guards do their rounds and stillwater goes on lockdown when they realize sevika's missing.

ran's the only one who seems to care about this time crunch. sevika keeps shoving you against walls, grabbing your tits biting your lips, fighting against her handcuffs as she tries to grip your hips.

you let her, each and every time.

a guard stops the three of you. "fuck happened to you?" he asks you, looking you over.

your skirt's rumpled, your shirt's untucked and unbuttoned, and your enforcer hat's been knocked off and lost. all sevika's doing.

you cringe, suddenly nervous. ran just scoffs as the cut in to cover for you.

"the prisoner here got the jump on this rookie." ran explains. "broke the poor kid's nose." they gesture to your bleeding nose. you nod.

"fuckin' asshole." you mumble, trying to hold your smile back as you nudge sevika like you're angry.

she stumbles and giggles. it comes off as a defiant laugh in the face of authority to the guard. to you, you know she's fucking giddy.

he waves the three of you along.

the second you're in the van with sevika, she's on you.

lock starts the car and starts driving off, ran in the passenger seat laughing in glee at once again flawlessly slipping through stillwater's 'impenetrable' security system, and sevika throws herself at you in the back before you can even unlock her cuffs.

"sev!" you laugh. she's practically dry humping you, kissing any part of you she can reach. she hums.

"fuck-- you're the hottest enforcer i've ever seen." she mumbles. "i'm so fuckin' sorry about your nose, baby--" you cut her off by pressing your mouth against hers again.

"no fucking in the van." lock says.

you flip him off, before fumbling for the key to sevika's handcuffs.

the second one of her hands is free, she doesn't bother letting you free the other. she just lets the cuffs dangle off her mech wrist like a tacky bracelet, as she wraps her arms around you pulling you impossibly closer to her.

"i missed you so fucking much." you whimper, on the verge of tears.

sevika smells like shit. she probably hasn't showered in a week. in solitary, you don't even get a mattress-- just two blankets to lay on the ground. she's sore and grimy and she's been sitting in a dark room for weeks on end-- you planned for your first time together again to be after soaking her in a long, fragrant bath, given her at least an hour long massage, and gotten her in your freshly made bed.

it seems like that might have to be your second time.

sevika's between your legs-- both of which are hooked over her waist-- your skirt is around your waist and your hands are tugging her pants down as she grinds pathetic circles against your cunt.

"oh, fuck, i missed you too." she whines. "i love you so fuckin' much, i'm gonna put a fuckin baby in you, i missed your cunt so mu--"

"woah!" ran cries. "please! we're two minutes away from the last dro--"

"take me home." sevika growls.

ran scoffs-- "sevika, silco wants to see--"

"i'll see 'im tomorrow. or he can come over in a few hours. take me the fuck home." she demands. you giggle, using her distraction to uncuff her other wrist.

she smiles down at you when lock starts the van in the direction of your shared home.

the two of you stumble out in front of your home a minute later, lock screaming something about silco coming over in a bit behind the two of you.

neither of you notice.

you stumble into your home, attached at the lips. sevika's hands are flying up and down your body, groping your ass, thighs, hips, tits, all in quick succession. she growls as you guide her to the bedroom. "been thinkin' about you every fuckin' second since they locked me up." she mumbles. you whimper. "prison's no fun without you there."

you chuckle against her lips, stripping her of her prison uniform. you're gonna burn the clothes the second you're done with her.

you push her down-- she spreads out starfished and naked on the bed, groaning as she relaxes against the mattress.

"fuck." she moans.

you smile down at her, straddling her waist and stroking her cheek. she nuzzles against your palm.

"i missed you so much." you whisper. "i love you so much. you're the most precious thing in the world, baby."

sevika whimpers, and then, before you know what's happening, she's flipping you and pinning you beneath her.

she starts grinding against you again, but this time, both of you are naked. you groan as your cunts slide together and sevika whimpers, burying her face in your neck as she cries and fucks you.

you don't mention the tears soaking your neck. you just wrap yourself around your wife, pressing kisses anywhere you can reach as she fucks you.

"you're okay baby." you whisper, scratching against her scalp. "you're okay. 'm right here, 'm not goin' anywhere. i'll always come 'n find you sev, y' can't get rid of me that easy." you promise her.

she whimpers. "'m gonna cum."

you shiver at her words-- fuck you've missed her.

"fuck, fuck, please, sev, please, i've missed you, i've missed you, honey." you whisper. "i wanna make you feel good-- wanna make you cum-- you waited so fuckin' long all alone and--"

"but you're here now." she whispers. you moan, cumming at the reminder, and the sight of it pushes her over the edge. "baby fuck!" she cries, burying her face against your neck as she cums.

you're both shaking and crying, panting for air, soaked in sweat and cum, and laughing.

"shit." sevika sighs, nuzzling against you. you hum. "think i jerked off, like, a billion times imagining that." she mumbles. you burst into laughter. "nowhere near as good as the real fuckin' thing though." she sighs.

you kiss the goofy smile off her face. "wish i coulda snuck you some nudies or somethin'." you mumble. she snorts.

"nearly came in my pants when i realized it was you showin' off your legs in that slutty uniform."

"after you nearly shit in your pants when you realized it was me you just punched?" you ask. sevika giggles, gently kissing your swollen nose.

"simultaneously, actually. weirdest sensation of my life." she jokes. you burst into laughter.

"i love you!" you giggle. she smiles.

"i love you too."

"if you get off of me i'll draw you a bath." you offer.

"do i smell that bad?"

"yes."

she bites your shoulder and you squeak. "will you join me?"

"yes." you say.

you can feel her smile against your shoulder.

"i'm gonna marry you all over again." she mumbles.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @sapphicsgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner @shimtarofstupidity @love-sugarr @chuucanchuucan @222danielaa @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther @gr0ssz0mbi3 @ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @leomatsuzaki @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai @vikasub

#sevika #sevika imagine #sevika arcane #sevika x reader #sevika x you #soft sevika #sevika smut

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spoopdeedoop · 8 months ago

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hi i have some disorganized thoughts/hcs abt the found family human doctor au

(one of the thoughts being i should really give it a better name. another being YES this is only the nuwho doctors atm bc that's the only series i've watched so far apologies. if i ever get around to watching classic who i will add them trust)

BEHOLD my random, not at all in-depth headcanons

nine is the only one with a car out of all of them. they all keep bugging him to drive/pick them up from places -- he has mixed feelings about being the assigned taxi driver

both twelve and eleven are teachers -- college professor and preschool teacher respectively. twelve's students love them because he will say the most stupid, hilarious shit with a straight face without even knowing and eleven's students love him because he is the only teacher at the school that will dance with them during musical chairs (he doesn't even play the game. he just dances)

i want to make one of them an actual doctor but i don't think any of them could handle it unfortunately

they all share an an apartment flat on the same level -- nine, twelve and fifteen live in one room, ten, eleven and thirteen live in the one across from them. of course there are other people in the building too but they're all used to the strange loud hyperactivity of that particular flat. i think i'm using the right terminology here. yall know what im talking about

(i'm so tempted to make some companions be their neighbors)

nine and ten are the most insomniac of all of them, so they're used to bumping each other in the dead of night on their way to raid each other's respective fridges or something. very rarely thirteen will join them and they're like "WELL FANCY SEEING YOU HERE"

twelve does sleep, but like. he's nocturnal

eleven and ten hate each other in a sibling kind of way (see: day of the doctor). they are constantly sending each other death threats or tripping each other over. everyone is sick of it

sometimes when they're out shopping you'll hear ten yell "GET OUT OF THE FROZEN FOOD YOU NUMPTY WE ARE NOT BUYING FISH FINGERS" over the aisles and you'll hear eleven whine "WHY DO YOU HATE ME SO MUCH" back

(if you're lucky you'll be able to catch fifteen mumble "why did we put them in the same apartment. are we asking for an eviction notice")

eventually eleven will pick a random stray cat off the side of the road, take her home, and name her bowtie, which is a stupid name, so everyone just defaults to calling her kitty

kitty's favourite person is twelve, to eleven's absolute despair

(my original idea for this was to initially have ten hate the idea of living with a cat, since he's stated full on in the show that he doesn't like cats, but apparently there is some very obscure doctor who comic run in which he falls into a depressive spiral and adopts a cat whom he names rose-the-cat, so he might actually like cats idk?)

anyway ten hates her until he doesn't lmao. he vents to her when there's no one else home and she will Stare at him back and it is a very nice friendship

kitty and nine watch shitty romcom together

they have a joint groupchat together -- half of it is just thirteen and fifteen assigning everyone outfits they find on pinterest and the other half is eleven asking where everyone went (he keeps getting lost when they go out)

nine doesn't know how to download pictures off the internet and so resorts to manually editing memes together to send to the groupchat and everyone's like "girl that's so much more effort........."

(yes he doesn't know how to press save image to camera roll but he knows how to use a photo editor flawlessly. such is the logic of the idiocy of the doctors)

eleven and thirteen get along very well i think. they're the only two of the group to play video games and so they bond over that. they also have ridiculously similar clothing taste

sometimes they'll succeed in getting fifteen to play pokemon with them and then they'll proceed to not see him until the next day when he comes out of his room and goes "you didn't tell me plusle couldn't evolve i've been levelling it up all fucking night"

friday is assigned movie night (it's always big hero 6)

eleven is the only one to actively seek out physical affection, usually really abruptly like clinging to thirteen's back as she passes him in the hall or bapping ten with the palm of his hand until he sighs and gives him a hug. he does expect a platonic kiss on the forehead from anyone before he goes to bed and will complain if he doesn't get one

anyway thats it i'm sick in the head and really sad. if this keeps up i may be forced to actually write a fic

#doctor who #spoop speaks #if anyone has a name for this au i'm OPEN TO SUGGESTIONS #if anyone wants to write fic/draw art for this au YOU DONT EVEN HAVE TO ASK. IM ACTIVELY BEGGING. PLEASE #might delete this post if i get too self conscious it is. just. words. ew

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holllandtrash · 2 years ago

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the good guy | mick schumacher

pairing: mick schumacher x leclerc!reader part 3 (and final part) to disapproval read part 1 here and part 2 here

after getting an earful from you (and a certain british driver) it finally sinks in for charles how much he's been neglecting your happiness and he starts to see how much mick truly means to you

word count: 2.8k warnings: none except lil bit of asshole charles still

When Charles met up with Lando and Carlos for a late lunch, there was no way he could ignore their looks of disapproval. Lando even had sunglasses on and Charles could see the judgement through the dark lenses before he could sit down.

Charles could see the shift in dynamic as well. Lando and Carlos were friends, but they way they both sat on the same side of the table, leaving the other side empty for himself made this whole meal feel like an intervention. Maybe that was their plan, they wanted to talk some sense into the Ferrari driver.

“Do not say anything,” Charles groaned, slumping in the chair. Not like they would listen to his request anyway. He glanced over the menu but nothing seemed the least bit appetising. Last night's drinks were still sitting in his system and he was worried one bite from a fruit platter would cause everything to come up.

But the alcohol wasn’t the only reason why he felt sick.

Just seeing his sister’s face when the elevator doors opened told Charles that he royally fucked up.

“Was the Instagram story apology your idea or the PR teams?” Lando asked, reaching for his water. Carlos scoffed, but Lando continued on calling their friend out on his mistakes. “You realise that’s probably the worst way to apologise, right? You’re a laughing stock all over social media right now.”

“I didn’t know what else to do,” Charles admitted, waving his hand at the server when he came by to take his order. He couldn’t eat anything.

Carlos leaned forward. With the most serious, dead panned look on his face, he looked directly into the eye of his teammate, “Has it ever crossed your mind to give Mick a chance?”

Charles glared at the Spaniard, “Mick isn’t the problem. She shouldn’t be dating any driver, period.”

“What about me?” Lando teased, only to be met with a similar death glare that had Lando sinking back into his seat. Charles could be intimidating when he wanted to.

“Mate, Mick is a good guy,” Carlos defended the German driver as he had done so many times before. “Your problem with him comes from your own insecurities.”

Charles grimaced, “My insecurities? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Camille?” Carlos brought up his last girlfriend, but didn’t stop there. “Colette? Who am I missing?” He looked at Lando.

“Mélanie,” Lando added, another ex. “You’ve got a bit of a track record, Charles. It was your own mistakes that ended those relationships and now you think every driver on the grid is as bad as you are.”

Was he really being scolded by a 23-year old gamer who’s most meaningful relationship was the one he had with his golf clubs?

“Most of them are,” Charles retorted. He knew first hand what majority of the drivers got up to after a race weekend. Infidelity, the partying and the lies that followed. Some of the guys were in serious relationships, more serious than his ever were, but that still didn’t stop them from making bad decisions.

“Mick’s not one of them,” Lando told him and Carlos nodded in agreement. “He’s not going to hurt your sister and if he does then he has 20 of us to answer to.”

Charles laughed at the idea of Lando trying to be threatening. That man couldn’t hurt a fly.

When Carlos excused himself to answer a phone call, Charles was really hoping that they could drop the conversation. He aimlessly picked up the menu again, not like he was going to order anything, but he only managed to scan about half of it before Lando threw a crumpled up napkin at him.

“What?” Charles spoke through clenched teeth. “I fucked up, I know.”

Lando took his sunglasses off, resting them on the surface of the table. There were no dark bags under his eyes, he probably had a great sleep last night. Lando was one of the few that didn’t wake up in the mornings wondering what sort of damage control he’d have to do to make up for the night before.

“Y/N has been nothing but supportive of you and your career,” Lando told him, as if Charles wasn’t already of that. “She’s a damn good sister to you and you can’t be arsed to show her and Mick half the respect that they give you. She’s family, Charles, but try hard enough and you will push her away. Put your own stubbornness aside for once and see how much Mick means to her, how happy he makes her. You're one of my best mates, so I say this with kindness, but you're honestly acting like a dickhead. You're not a child. She's not a child. She's in a relationship with someone who clearly loves her. Don't get in the way of that and for Christ's sakes, give Mick a break already. He's a good guy, you're not."

This was not the first time Charles had any heard this, but this was the first time he had all of it all at once from one of his closest friends. And after the events of this morning, it was sinking in deeper than it ever had before.

Charles opened his mouth, to argue of course, he didn’t like to be put in his place or told when he was wrong, but maybe it was for the best when his phone started to ring. He held his finger up to Lando and leaned back in his chair, answering immediately when he saw your name on the screen.

He barely got a word out when you started swearing at him, both in French and English. Charles couldn’t keep up with how fast you were talking but he got the main idea. That Instagram story apology did shit all to help make anything better.

Charles hated being yelled at though, so the more you raised your voice at him and told him how much of an ass he was, the more defensive he got, even when he knew he was the one in the wrong.

“A fucking Instagram story apology?” Your voice was so loud that even Lando could pick up on your words.

“What else do you want me to do?” Charles yelled back and across the table, Lando laughed.

“Be a better brother,” Lando suggested and Charles just flipped him off.

You scoffed into the receiver, “I want you to not lie on social media and put a fucking effort into getting along with Mick! Give me one good reason why you don’t approve of me dating him,”

Carlos had come back at that exact second and raised his eyebrows towards Lando who simply mouthed your name. Carlos hummed and sat down, watching the rest of this disaster of a show play out in front of him like it was a blockbuster film.

Charles had about ten reasons in the forefront of his mind as to why you shouldn’t be dating Mick, but for the life of him, he couldn’t get them out.

“You can’t,” you pointed out.

Charles rolled his eyes, not like you could see it, “He’s older than you.” Both Lando and Carlos groaned at that piss poor excuse.

“By two years.”

“He doesn’t have a career.”

“Harsh, mate,” Lando blurted out. Charles gave him a look, telling him to stop putting his two cents into his conversation.

“Maybe he’s not currently driving but that doesn't mean he’s done for good.”

“He can’t support you,” Charles said.

“I can support myself.”

Eventually, Charles just came out with it, “You shouldn’t be dating a driver, Y/N, okay?”

And it was really his own fault for using that excuse. The second those words left his mouth, you hit him right where you knew it would hurt.

“Just because you were a shitty boyfriend to your ex-girlfriends doesn’t mean Mick is going to treat me poorly too.”

Charles had never told you what happened in his last relationships, but it didn’t take a genius to figure it out. People gossiped. Rumours spread around the paddock and Charles knew damn well that a handful of drivers weren’t good at keeping their mouths shut.

“What is she saying?” Lando asked, more invested in this conversation than he had a right to be. Charles leaned away from the two of them, but it didn’t give him any more privacy.

“Charles, I don’t know what happened in your relationships,” he could hear the hesitancy in your tone, “but whatever fear you have, whatever you did…Mick isn’t the same guy. He’s not you, he’s-”

“Better,” Charles finished your sentence. Mick was better than he was. Mick was a good guy. He would give you the world world if you asked for it.

You laughed into the phone, agreeing that Mick in fact was a better person than Charles would ever be. “I mean, yeah. And I get it, you want to protect me but this isn’t how you go about it. You’ve just been cruel and closed off and you haven’t even tried to see Mick for the guy he is. Do you even know how happy he makes me?”

And what could Charles say to that?

He wasn’t blind, he saw how much of an impact Mick made on your life. For whatever reason that he still couldn’t wrap his head around, Mick meant the world to you. Charles told himself that it wouldn’t last and that you would eventually move on, but that still had yet to happen. Maybe it never would.

“I love him,” you said quietly, voice broken like it was your final attempt at getting through to Charles.

And again, what could Charles say to that?

This wasn’t a conversation he could have on the phone.

He abruptly hung up and slid his phone into his pocket, ignoring the confused stares from the other two drivers. Charles pushed the chair away from the table and stood up, not bothering with an explanation as he hurried to rush back to the hotel.

Charles packed up what he could in a frenzy, texting his assistant and asking them to grab anything he might have missed. His priority wasn’t making sure he had everything with him, it was getting to Monaco where he knew you were. Where else would you have gone? With that race coming up, it only made sense that you would go home early.

So a few coffees and five hours later, Charles found himself outside of your apartment building. He typed your code into the keypad to gain access and then next thing he knew, he was in front of your door.

It took nearly a minute for him to actually knock. He had no idea if you would listen to him, or even let him in. He thought about turning around and just heading back to his own place. Sending a text to meet up later might have been smarter, he’d have more time to think about what the hell he was going to say.

But no, he was already there. He had to talk to you. He needed to make things right.

When you opened the door and saw Charles, you had no idea what to think. It didn’t help that he still didn’t say anything. He drove this whole way and yet he couldn’t form a single coherent sentence. You were still waiting for a sincere apology.

“Y/N did you want Mozza or did you want to try that new sushi place?” Mick walked out of your office, focused on his phone that he didn’t even see Charles until he looked up to find out why you weren’t answering.

Charles cleared his throat, “Hi.”

Mick nodded firmly, glancing your way to get your read on the situation. He could tell right away that you didn’t invite him over. He could also tell that you didn’t know what to do and Mick being Mick needed to steer this in the right direction.

“Well don’t just stand there, come in,” Mick offered, putting his hand on your back to usher you to the side so you weren’t blocking the doorway. His touch sort of snapped you out of your own thoughts and you nodded in agreement, watching as your brother entered your flat.

This was awkward for everyone. This strange tension lingered in the air. You were mad at Charles. Charles wasn’t a fan of Mick. Mick was stuck in the middle because he loved you but he didn’t want to overstep and do anything that would really set Charles off.

“I thought you weren’t coming back until tomorrow,” you said, crossing your arms over your chest. You leaned against the edge of your kitchen table and watched as Charles shifted uncomfortably until choosing to lean against the wall behind him. He was out of his element here, especially with Mick at your side.

“Change of plans,” he said, his eyes landing on the way Mick still hadn’t removed his hand from your back. The way you leaned into his side didn’t go unnoticed.

“I find it hard to believe you drove home early just to stop by and say hi,” the bitterness in your tone caused Charles to tense up. You didn’t want to fight, truly, but you were still annoyed with his actions.

Mick’s fingers brushed against the material of your top and you inhaled a deep breath.

“Charles, you’re family and I love you, but-”

“I’m sorry,” he blurted out, interrupting you halfway through your sentence. Your eyes widened, not out of shock but because you were waiting to see if more followed. “Really, I am. I’m sorry for how I’ve treated Mick since the two of you have started seeing each other.”

This apology wasn’t for you. You just shrugged your shoulders and nodded your head towards your boyfriend, “Don’t tell me that. Tell him.”

Mick straightened up and you could see it in Charles’ face that he really didn’t want to have to repeat himself.

“Mick I’m-” Charles paused, glancing at you but you were staying out of this. He needed to apologise to Mick first and then the two of you could work out your issues. Charles sighed, “Mick I’m sorry, mate. I know you’re a good guy and I know you’ll treat Y/N right. I just can’t help but have my guards up for her. I know what some of the guys on the grid have done and I’ve seen-” he hesitated when you raised an accusatory eyebrow. “It’s not easy for drivers to be in relationships and I just don’t want to see Y/N getting hurt.”

“I would never hurt her,” Mick assured him, sliding his hand further around your waist. His fingers rested on your side as he pulled you against him and gave you a gentle squeeze. "Charles, I love your sister. She's my entire world, she means everything to me."

“I know that now,” Charles said, but you were still having trouble believing his words.

“Do you?” You asked, quite bluntly “Because I’ve been saying this for months and suddenly, out of the blue, you’ve come to your senses? That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Honestly you can thank Lando,” he admitted. “He reminded me how supportive you’ve been of me my entire life. You’ve stuck by my side through everything. Every win, every loss- both off and on the track and I haven’t done the same.”

“Nope,” you agreed. “You haven’t.”

“I’m sorry,” Charles finally directed the apology to you. His green eyes were filled with sorrow and guilt and for the first time there seemed to be actual strength and meaning behind those two words. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. I haven’t been a good brother.”

“You’ve been the worst.”

“I know.”

“You never even tried to get to know Mick off the track.”

“I know.”

“You’re always so caught up in your own world.”

“I know.”

“You don’t even-”

“Y/N,” it was Mick’s turn to cut you off. He looked between you and Charles. Whatever you were going to say, Charles would just keep agreeing. This could go on for hours if you all let it, but Mick stepped in. “I think we should just all agree to move past this.”

You nodded, but when you looked at your brother, you were still hesitant. How did you know he wasn’t just saying what you wanted to hear?

“I need to see more of an effort from you,” you declared. “I’m not saying you two have to be the best of friends but for the love of God, Charles, don’t be an ass anymore.”

“That sounds fair,” Charles said as Mick dipped his head and chuckled.

You expected Mick to be the one to extend the first olive branch, but it was Charles who stepped forward and held out his hand. Mick, who had been waiting for this since you started dating, happily stepped away from you to shake your brother's hand, only to pull him into that sort-of half embrace that men were notorious for.

“I know it doesn’t need to be said- or maybe I should have said it a long time ago," Charles started off as they pulled away, keeping one hand on his arm, “But welcome to the family, Mick."

Things weren't perfect after that, not at first at least. It took a bit of time, but eventually, Charles truly did see Mick as part of the family.

yourusername

liked by landonorris, charles_leclerc and 78,439 others

tagged: charles_leclerc and mickschumacher

yourusername it only took a game of football for them to become best friends❤️😉

view all 5,322 comments

charles_leclerc we were literally rooting for different teams

yourusername at least you're watching the game together mickschumacher he's still bitter because his team lost

fiftyfive the duo we needed

landonorris why wasn't I invited i'm the one who talked some sense into charles in the first place

charles_leclerc mate its been months let it go landonorris never

charles_leclerc added to their story

mickschumacher

liked by yourusername, f1 and 528,914 others

tagged: charles_leclerc

mickschumacher quick dip

view all 27,288 comments

carlossainz55 did you push him in?

yourusername he did mickschumacher it was self defence charles_leclerc 🤨🤨🤨

f1 here for this bromance

liked by yourusername

yourusername added to their story

liked by mickschumacher, yourusername and 588,938 others

tagged: yourusername, charles_leclerc and mickschumacher

f1 we love seeing the drivers hang out during the summer break❤️😉

view all 63,110 comments

yourusername i was literally suffocating

charles_leclerc you're the one who wanted us to get along yourusername laying on top of me was not what i had in mind

paddockgf y/n is actually living the dream

mickschumacher

liked by mercedesamgf1, charles_leclerc and 873,116

tagged: yourusername

mickschumacher it's always been you and I against the world, but now it's official ❤️ I love you, I can't wait to spend the rest of my life with you

view all 78,225 comments

mercedesamgf1 so is he taking her last name or

charles_leclerc yes

danielricciardo WOOOO CONGRATS TO THE HAPPY COUPLE

landonorris mick are you sure you want charles as a brother?

yourusername do you want to be invited to the wedding? landonorris hey its because of ME that charles even gave you his blessing, you wouldn't even be dating if it weren't for me yourusername it's actually impressive how much of that sentence is inaccurate charles_leclerc i mean, he's not completely wrong

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, landonorris and 89,365 others

tagged: mickschumacher

yourusername forever with my best friend? obviously i said yes❤️💍

view all 8,283 comments

mickschumacher i love you❤️❤️

georgerussell63 congrats you two🥂🥂

charles_leclerc if i'm not his best man then the wedding is cancelled

liked by mickschumacher

requests are open • masterlist

a/n: i guess its time for a new mini series hehe

taglist: @spicyclover @leclerc16s @totally-random-person @majx00 @lighttsoutlewis @ellethewitchbitch @grimmducky @lucyhotchner @clintsupremacy @sussyzee @fock-smash @that-aesthetic-chic @alma23f1 @sbgal @h0e-xoxo @ivegotparticulartaste @sachaa-ff @emiiarmenn @konsti081 @pierre-gasllllllyyyyyy @melagemo0263 @myescapefromthislife @mehrmonga @pleasantducktimetravel @whatthefuckerr @kuskumu

#mick schumacher imagine #mick schumacher x you #mick schumacher one shot #mick schumacher instagram edit #mick schumacher #f1 social media au #f1 requests #f1 one shot #f1 instagram au #f1 #charles leclerc #instagram au #social media au #holllandtrash #lando literally saves the day i guess #lando norris #mick schumacher x reader

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she-who-fights-and-writes · 2 months ago

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Hi! Firstly, thank you for creating this blog and helping all of us out! Secondly, and sorry if this is such a silly question, but how do you write an engaging summary?

I find my own fic summaries are so… lackluster… and not even I’m interested in reading it — so how I can I expect others to be? Even if I like my story, when I write the summary in the start of my fic/in my masterlist, I’m like “Wow… this is not even remotely interesting! 😭”

So yeah, I was wondering if you had any tips/advice for that? 😭 Totally fine if not, I just figured I’d ask. Thanks and have a great day/night! 😘

HOW TO WRITE AN ENGAGING FIC SUMMARY THAT WILL DRAW IN AUDIENCES

Summaries are the bane of many writers’ existences, including my own. It’s already hard enough to get the words down on paper for the actual story, and now people want you to convince them to read it with something more than “I WORKED REALLY HARD ON IT PLEASE IT’S GOOD I PROMISE!!!!”

Squishing a ton of context into a small blurb seems impossible, but I promise it can be done!

Obviously everyone goes about things differently, and a lot of these tips may not work for everyone, but nevertheless, here are some tricks on how to write an engaging summary!

Here’s a simple template I like to use, which will be the focus of this post:

Hook (Draw the reader in!)

Context (What are the core elements of your story?)

Cliffhanger (Introduce a question/scenario that the reader will want to click to know more about!)

1. Start With a Hook

Just like with the first sentence of a story, the first sentence of your summary should immediately spark the reader’s interest.

A bold statement! A good (short) quote from your fic! A shocking discovery! A cool word definition/the definition of your title!

I always like to put the hook of the story on its own line/paragraph, just to emphasize it.

Examples of a hook (Note, these are rushed and off the top of my head. Just meant to give a general idea, not be literary masterpieces): - "It all started when Character A puked on their Uber driver." - "War was inevitable." - "Character A would be dead by sunrise. That’s what Character B vowed." - "By the time they got to the city, it was too late."

Your hook is probably the most important part of your summary; someone will know within milliseconds whether or not they will continue reading.

Once you’re past that initial hump, it’ll be easier to convince a potential reader to skim the rest of the summary. Giving something that jumps out at them will set your story apart from others and ensure it gets that click you deserve!

2. Give Some Context

For shorter one-shots, sometimes a single hook is enough! But if your fic is longer, with a bit more moving parts, you might want to choose a few highlights. Get the essence of your story on paper.

This can be super hard, so don’t feel discouraged if you feel like you’re not getting it. I’d suggest keeping your context to about 1-3 sentences depending on the length of your story, so make sure they count.

Buzzwords are a key factor in getting the main points across. Use ones that relate to your main plot to your advantage!

For example, if I were to make a short summary of Game of Thrones for someone who has never watched it before, I would definitely include some of these buzzwords: - Dragons - Conquest - Succession - Revenge - Slaughter - Betrayal

Using powerful words (i.e. slaughtered instead of killed) can help draw in your audience!

I can't dictate exactly how you should write your context, since every fic is different and shouldn't be brought under an umbrella of the same rules, so it might help to find inspiration from other people’s summaries.

3. Pose a Question the Reader Will Want the Answer To

The biggest point of a summary is the “so what?” factor. You have all of these tags, but how does the fic make use of them?

A summary shouldn’t be giving all of the answers, but it should still leave crumbs for the reader’s imagination! This doesn’t mean that you literally need to put a question in the summary, but rather pose an unresolved scenario/problem that the reader will want to click to know the solution to.

Here are some example sentence templates that pose an indirect question, often put at the end of a summary to spark interest (Note, these are rushed and off the top of my head. Just meant to give a general idea, not be literary masterpieces): - "Everything changes the moment Character A makes a choice they can't take back." (What is that choice? How does it affect the other characters?) - "As the truth comes to light, nothing will ever be the same." (What is the truth? How does it change things?) - "A dangerous game begins, and only one can emerge unscathed." (Who will be that person?) - “It’s the first time they meet, but it won’t be the last” (What will be these next instances? How do their worlds collide?)

4. Some General Advice

If you don't think the above format works well with your fic, here's just some general advice that can help you out!

DON'T MAKE IT TOO LONG

The biggest mistake I see writers making when posting their work is having a giant four-paragraph summary for their story that takes up half of the feed.

Unfortunately, in an age of fast swiping and instant gratification, a reader may skip over a super long summary simply because they don’t feel like reading all of it.

(The reason why long summaries work for books is because people are more patient when they intend on paying to read something; they’ll take more time considering investments than they would with a free read, since they want to make sure it's worth their money. It’s not fair, but that’s kind of how it goes.)

In my opinion, a fic summary should be no more than one short paragraph, two or three sentences max for a one-shot and maybe five sentences for a long fic.

This isn't exact. It really depends on the length and complexity of the sentence, because no matter the how many you use, if there are enough words to make folks comprehend it as a big block of text, then they’re going to be more likely to skip it.

People looking for long fics will be more patient (since they’re making an investment with their time, rather than money) but if you want to appeal to a wider audience that may be casually browsing and stumble across your fic, definitely consider a more brief route.

PROOFREADING MATTERS!

Because summaries are often an afterthought, many writers don’t put as much effort into it as they would the rest of their story.

I wouldn’t recommend this; people are basing their ENTIRE initial opinion of your fic on this small blurb.

If you rush it and make spelling or grammar errors, people will assume that the rest of your fic is also riddled with errors and scroll past!

Make sure to proofread!

Hope this helped, and happy writing!

#writing #writing tips #writing advice #writing help #writeblr #booklr #creative writing #fic #fanfiction #ao3 #fanfic #fic summary #summary #writing summaries

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cameronspecial · 9 months ago

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hiii!!🤍 idk if you are taking requests at the moment but yesterday i had this idea of fem!reader and rafe fic inspired on the song maniac by conan gray lmaoo

in my head this sounds like a good idea but idk lol

love uuuuu<333

Maniac

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: Swearing and Accusations of Being a Stalker

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 0.8K

Masterlist

Rafe sets eyes on the one person he doesn’t really want to see. The one person he loves, but who is too good for him. So he let her go. By the time he notices her in the crowd, he is on his sixth cup of whiskey and the alcohol is getting to his head. He shouldn’t do it, yet he does. He stumbles through the crowd to get close to her and his finger points at her in accusation. “I wish you were dead. Maybe then you’d stop popping up everywhere I go like a stalker,” he slurs, his finger wavering a little. She chuckles, “You wish I cared enough about you to stalk you. Except I know you need this so can go tell all your friends that I’m a stalker, a watcher or that I drive you mad. I really don’t care.” She flips her hair over her shoulder as she turns to go back to her friends. Their break-up was anything but friendly. Rafe had to resort to cruelty to get it to set into her mind that there was no salvation for them by talking through their problems. She was too good for him and he was just going to bring her down with him. That’s why he had to do it. As she goes to her friends, he catches a whiff of her perfume and he is dying to be able to properly take the scent in before she leaves again.

Later in the night, Y/N hears rustling in the backyard. She gets up from her bed to spot a familiar figure on the grass through her window. She groans; the irony of him calling her a stalker when he is the one at the back of her house late into the night. She goes downstairs and swings the backdoor open to get rid of him before her parents can wake up. She has to laugh at the sight of him stumbling through with a rose and a shovel in his hand. He holds both items up in his hands like he is balancing out the weight between the two. He comes to a decision and throws the shovel to the side. “Take me back,” he pleas. She chuckles, slamming the door in his face. “You are such a maniac.”

———

A few weeks later, her phone rings from her nightstand in the middle of the night. She presses the phone to her ear and rolls her eyes at who is on the other side. She puts some clothes on, heading to her car to make another mistake. She swears up a storm at the sight of the car smashed against the tree. She sets her car in park and runs over to the driver’s side to make sure he is okay. “You came,” he mumbles, looking at her with a dopey look. He reaches out to pet her hair. She jerks out of his touch. “What do you want me to do about this Rafe? You wrecked your car,” she states in frustration. His lips pout, “You always know how to fix my problems. Because you are perfect. That’s why I had to break up with you because you are too perfect.” His eyes start to pool with tears and she wipes the salty water away. “I’m going to call the police and they are going to take care of it,” she informs, pulling out her phone.

“No, please, don’t. I need you. I need you to stay.”

“It’s all I can do, Rafe. Look what we had was magic, but you turned it tragic. So I really don’t know what you want me to do.”

“I want you to say that you are going to take me back.”

She lets out a low laugh, “You are a maniac.” Y/N leaves his side, listening to him whine as she goes to call the police. She couldn’t take any more of his bullshit. It breaks her heart that all he ever wants to do is use her for help and pretend like he really wants her to stay. He doesn’t love her. He made that clear when they broke up.

———

The next time he calls is during the day. He had just snorted a shit ton of coke and he was feeling his regret at a tenfold. “Come on, Y/N. Pick up. Pick up, Beautiful,” he begs into the phone at the continual sound of the call dialling. One ring. Two rings. After the third ring, he is sent to voice mail.

She looks down at the phone, pressing the red button with a shake of her head. “He’s a maniac if he thinks I’m going to come back.”

Rafe throws the phone against the wall, screaming as this is sinking in. He lost her and he was never going to get her back. This thought is enough to turn him into a maniac.

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @thepatriarchykeychain @drewsmusee @starkowswife @maybankslover @forstarkey @loving-and-dreaming

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screamforyani · 1 year ago

Text

make you proud

pairing ↠ gf!ethan x (f) reader

genre .. warnings ↠ angst, smut, macher!reader, mc has a panic attack, violence/character death, logically mc would be around sam’s age but we’re gonna ignore logic for the sake of you being a fresh college student

summary ↠ after your boss is killed in a ghostface attack and your deepest, darkest secret gets out, your life is flipped upside-down. the whole world knows that you’re stu macher’s illegitimate daughter now and the worst part is that even your friends suspect you might be a killer.

wc ↠ 9.0k

for whatever reason, you were indescribably antsy today.

for all of three fleeting minutes, you convinced yourself that nothing was amiss and chalked it up to being excessively paranoid, which sounded like you. but you couldn’t shake the feeling that something just wasn’t right.

meandering down the pavement of blackmore’s perfectly trimmed courtyard, your worries were later rationalized when some random guy walking just shy of you with his friend randomly exclaimed for all the campus to hear, “yo, dude, look out - it’s that killer!”

you were baffled, but they didn’t give you much room for a reaction before a flock of students crowded you, several of them taking out their phones. one girl dangled her phone in your face and asked, “what’s it like being a psycho bitch?”

you barked, “what the fuck are you talking about?”

“uh, oh. better run before she fucks around and stabs one of us,” suggested her friend, just before the two of them laughed and darted away from you like you were dangerous.

“what the fuck?” you mumbled under your breath, more than a little perplexed.

the crowd around you was beginning to build up and that (much to your dismay), combined by the number of phones filming your every move, was making you incredibly anxious.

“thanks, i think we’ve got it from here,” announced a familiar voice from behind you, and before you knew it, someone was pulling you away from the crowd of people.

when you turned your head, you realized that it was no other than chad.

mindy was right beside him and immediately groaned, “god, we’ve been looking for you everywhere.”

“looking for me for what?” you asked, having not a clue as to what was happening, but you did have a really bad feeling about whatever it was. “what’s going on?”

mindy gave you a look. “haven’t you seen the news?”

you hissed, “does it look like i watch the news?”

“well, maybe now would be a great time to start,” mindy retorted, grabbing your other arm as she escorted you away with her brother as if you were a wanted criminal.

“i still don’t know what the fuck is going on.”

“we’ll tell you when we get to sam and tara’s,” chad said, feigning some semblance of calm.

the ride to sam and tara’s was nothing short of suffocating and nerve-racking. when their tall, gaunt apartment finally came into view and chad and mindy briskly escorted you upstairs, everyone stood to flat feet, hairs raised, looking at you with total dread and consternation. sam and tara were obviously there, alongside their roommate, quinn, mindy’s girlfriend, anika, and your friend, ethan, who also happened to be chad’s roommate.

tara was the first to speak before you could demand an explanation and exclaimed, “when were you going to tell us that you’re stu’s daughter?”

your heart dropped, but you tried to play dumb, glancing around and laughing nervously. “what?”

chad pointed to the television while mindy grabbed the remote control and turned it up for you to hear. there was a photo of your and sam’s shared boss on the screen, the headlines reporting that he had been found murdered at your job in the late, dead hours of last night.

the newscaster reported, “a pair of ghostface costumes were found at the scene, a character popularized by the stab movie franchise. also found at the scene were the driver’s license of sam carpenter, who you may remember from the tragic ghostface incident last year in woodsboro, and the birth certificate of…,” she said your name. “which reveals her father to be no other than stu macher.”

the rest of her words went in one ear and out the other as you were filled with immediate dread and panic. your heart started to feel taut in your chest as everything else around you became white noise and your grip on the reins of reality began to slacken.

“is she okay?”

“no, fuckward, does she look okay?”

“she’s having a panic attack,” ethan said worriedly, having - unlike the others - been here before. he swiftly came to your side and held you, looking into your eyes as he reassured gently, “hey, look at me. remember to breathe. everything will be okay.”

you nodded your head, but you felt as if you were going to die any second now. you tried to listen to ethan, soothed by his presence.

“okay, good. i’m going to take you to the couch now so that you can sit down,” ethan said slowly. “is that okay?”

“yes,” you whispered, chest heaving.

ethan slowly walked you to the couch and asked tara to get you a glass of water. he tried to offer you a pillow to hold but you denied it, reaching for his hand instead.

he gave you a saccharine smile and squeezed your hand, “i’m right here with you, okay? we’re at sam and tara’s apartment and it’s just the eight of us. nothing is going to happen to you, i promise. just remember to breathe.”

just as you nodded your head, tara came back with a glass of water that you accepted with a quiet thanks and sipped from. ethan let go of your shaky hand, which made you panic for a moment, but he patted your back and assured you that he wasn’t going anywhere, encouraging you to drink with both hands while the others asked how they could help.

after a solid five more minutes, you’d essentially calmed down from your attack, but you felt completely drained. not to mention terrified beyond belief. everyone gave you some reassuring words out of the kindness of their hearts, but it wasn’t enough.

anika gave you a compassionate smile. “do you have panic attacks often?”

“no, not really. sporadically. the last time was maybe eight months ago, and ethan was there, so he, uh, knows what to do now,” you explained softly, somewhat awkward. having panic attacks in front of groups of people was never exactly fun.

sam crouched down in front of you. “you’re stu macher’s daughter.”

“and you’re the daughter of billy loomis,” you replied blankly.

for a second, you and sam just stared at each other, eyes filled mutual understanding. cursed recognized cursed.

chad asked, “did you know?”

“of course, i knew,” you grumbled, crossing your arms. “i’ve always known. i was trying to make sure nobody else knew.”

“well, now the whole world knows, and someone is trying to pin our boss’ murder on us. people are saying that we’re working as a team to continue the legacy of our fathers,” sam told you, which made the ordeal in the courtyard make a whole lot more sense, but not any easier to cope with.

quinn’s brows furrowed. “but how did they get your driver’s license and her birth certificate?”

“probably because of somebody with close access to them,” mindy suggested, panning her view cynically over to quinn. “like you.”

quinn made a face. “okay, but she-” quinn gestured to you with her shoulder. “-lives alone. i steal that too?”

mindy shrugged. “i don’t know. maybe you have a partner. someone who’s always at her place, like, i don’t know, ethan.”

“i come over to help her study,” ethan explained, eyes widening at the accusation.

“right,” mindy drawled. “and where are you when she goes to the bathroom - or steps out the room?”

“mindy, i didn’t even know where my own birth certificate was before all of this,” you said, massaging your temple. “i’m sure i would know if he was rammaging the place if i stepped away for three minutes.”

sam interjected, running a hand through her raven-black hair, “you guys, this isn’t helping. i say go home, travel in groups, and we regroup later.”

sam’s word was more or less final, so the five of you obediently did as told. ethan told you that he’d see you tomorrow night for studying which made mindy roll her eyes and tug you along with her and anika. fortunately enough, you and anika lived in the same apartment complex, so mindy would walk with you two and spend the night with her girlfriend.

you made it back inside without any ghostface attacks. locking your door behind you, you heaved a breath and went to take a shower.

steaming, hot water beated down your body, covering your skin in little rivulets while the mist rose like shrouds above your head. all you could think about was how the secret you’d dedicated your whole life to protecting had finally slipped. what happens in the dark always comess to light, they said.

it was overwhelming. you had the blood of stu macher flowing through you, a man who took many lives before yours, and now you were being accused of continuing his wicked legacy. which meant that not only would nobody ever look at you the same again, but there was an actual killer out there that had gotten close enough to you to steal your birth certificate.

deep down inside, you knew that it was one of those seven.

the following night, ethan sent you a text informing you that he couldn’t make it and apologized, softening the message with a cute emoji.

you thought nothing of it and typed back, okay, all 296 of my highlighters will still be here whenever you’re ready. yes, i counted. i demand you return the other four you stole.

yes, ma’am, replied ethan a couple minutes later with a salute emoji that made you giggle.

seriously, though. be safe, you typed.

your phone buzzed in your hand just as you prepared to set it down. i will, but don’t worry about me. i’ll take care of both of us.

you hearted his text and told him goodnight, all while wearing the stupidest smile on your face.

which was erased the next morning when your tv was playing (given the circumstances, you took mindy’s advice and started watching the news) and something in you fractured when you saw something about a ghostface attack at sam and tara’s apartment. you swiped up your keys and scurried to your car, making a beeline for their apartment complex.

you slipped through yellow tape, spotting some of the gang and asking, “what the hell happened?”

“back. the fuck. up,” mindy snarled, looking at you like you were a deformed beast.

“what?” you whispered, confused. you glanced at chad and tara. “i just heard the news. i came right away. i wanted to make sure you guys were okay.”

“well, look at us. we’re fine. there, you can go,” mindy retorted with disdain.

just as you were about to speak, ethan came from behind the yellow tape, calling, “chad.”

that was when chad left his post at and paraded toward ethan with long, quick strides and slammed him into an emergency vehicle, shouting, “where the fuck were you?”

ethan’s eyes widened. “what - when?”

“don’t play dumb with me, man. you disappear and my sister almost gets killed!”

“he was with me!” you shouted, coming up to them and trying to pry chad off of ethan. “okay? we had to study, remember?”

chad’s grasp on ethan slackened as he glanced at you, but he didn’t let go. “and he was with you the whole night?”

“yes,” you lied through your teeth.

chad pressed, “then why didn’t you show up together? did he leave?”

“we did show up together. i told him to stay in the car,” you said, glaring at ethan to really sell your tale. “see what happens when you don’t follow instructions?”

ethan faltered, glancing towards the ground. “i’m sorry.”

chad released him, backing away. “fuck, man.”

ethan glanced into the alleyway, wincing. “oh my god - who?”

“anika,” chad exhaled, walking back towards the ambulance. “and quinn.”

something violent twisted in your chest.

you watched ethan go up to mindy and heard her say something about the both of you being at the top of her list, but it was all white noise to you. your heart was taut with guilt, given that you had lied for ethan in spite of having no clue of his whereabouts when you two were meant to be studying.

there was a reason you did it, though - logical or not. you just genuinely didn’t believe your best friend was a murderer. you’d known him for a year, six months before the core four came to manhattan. regardless of wherever he was, you doubted it was on a murder spree, and you covered for him solely because you didn’t want him to have to go through being interrogated.

merely minutes later, sam and tara came back with gale and kirby and all of you ended up in some place down an alley that apparently belonged to some kids in mindy’s film studies class.

“it’s a theater,” tara said when the lights flickered on after you all got through the intricate security.

“not just a theater,” gale said. “it’s a shrine.”

that was when you noticed the rest of the room and the screen lifted up, revealing nine different mannequins in ghostface costumes.

the eight of you ventured around the room, walking around in awe. everyone gravitated towards something different - kirby to charlie walker’s knife, gale to drawings of dewey, mindy and chad to randy meek’s shirt, and sam to billy loomis’ ghostface case.

likewise, you were beside a mannequin that sported your father’s infamous red robe.

“they’ve got the whole goddamn franchise,” mindy marveled.

“how’d they get this stuff?” asked tara. “i mean, isn’t this evidence?”

“well, cops like money, and evidence can get lost pretty easily,” gale explained. “present company excluded, of course.”

ethan asked, “uh, why am i here exactly? my alibi checks out.”

“so i can keep an eye on you, roomie,” chad said, shooting ethan a smile.

mindy made a V with her fingers and darted them between her eyes and ethan.

“the TV that killed stu macher,” kirby said to mindy, sitting beside her.

your eyes locked on the infamous television. you’d obviously heard of it - there were many stories about your father’s death - but seeing it up-close was an entirely different experience and you didn’t know how to feel.

“hey,” ethan said.

you jolted out of your reverie, glancing to your side to spot ethan standing beside you.

“sorry,” he whispered. “i wasn’t trying to scare you.”

“it’s fine,” you said, stepping away from your father’s robe. you were curious, but you didn’t want anyone getting the wrong vibe.

ethan whispered, “you didn’t have to lie for me earlier.”

“you really wanna talk about this now?”

“chad can watch me all he wants. they can’t hear us,” ethan said under his breath.

“listen,” you said softly, glancing at the glass case rather than making direct eye contact with him to avoid raising suspicion. “i only did what i did because you’re not a killer and i didn’t want you to go through an avoidable min-terogation.”

ethan’s lips twitched into a grin. “thank you.”

“we’re best friends,” you told him, in spite of the wrenching feeling of your heart at your own words. “you’d do the same thing for me, right?”

“i’d do anything for you. die for you.” kill for you, was what he really wanted to say, but he was playing it safe. “anything.”

it was ridiculous how much you wanted him and how much deeper you fell for him at those words.

but the lies didn’t stop there. and with more lies came more deluding yourself. ethan would make plans with you then sometimes drop them at the last minute, coincidentally all on the exact same nights your friends would get attacked. mindy, who’d you been getting closer with prior to the new ghostface killing spree, didn’t even want to talk to you anymore unless it was to accuse you of being a murderer.

which you couldn’t hold against her, but it made you sad. you were many things, but a killer wasn’t one of them. sam was practically the only one interested in having one-on-one conversations with you anymore.

“listen,” sam said, holding a cigarette. “i trust you. if nobody else understands you, i do.”

that meant something to you. “thanks.”

“but,” sam started, making you frown as your eyes locked on the buzzing city around you. there were cars speeding every which way, whipping by in a colorful blur. “i think you should keep your distance from ethan.”

your lips curled into a scowl. “you don’t trust him.”

sam said nothing, just letting out a sigh.

“he’s been with me,” you lied, giving her a stern look.

“i’m not saying that he hasn’t,” sam told you calmly, meeting your eyes. “i’m just saying it’s weird that every time the group has a near-death encounter with ghostface you two are coincidentally always together. that’s all.”

that was the same conclusion you’d reached a long time ago, but you didn’t want to believe that your best friend was a serial killer. much less that he would dare hurt your friends.

“i was in love before i met danny, you know. with richie,” sam spoke up after a lull of silence.

“yeah, the ghostface that was working with amber freeman, i know. you told me,” you reminded her, raising a brow. “why are you bringing that up?”

“because it’s no secret that you have feelings for ethan.”

your eyes flickered. “i’m not-”

“you are,” sam finished. “in love with him. but love is blind. if i didn’t have feelings for richie, i might’ve realized what was going on sooner, but i did. and i don’t want you to make that same mistake that almost cost me my sister.”

you sucked in a breath. hot tears pricked your eyes, threatening to cascade. you’d considered that you might have had feelings for ethan, but hearing it aloud really solidified things. you were out of your mind in love with your best friend who may or may not have been a killer, and that was why you covered his tracks without a second thought.

“please,” sam whispered, looking at you with desperation in your eyes. “if there’s anything you’re not telling us that could help, tell me. i understand.”

“ethan’s not a killer.”

“are you convincing me or yourself?”

“ethan’s not a killer,” you said with a little more vigor, but a lot less confidence. “i’ve known him since last year and i think i would know if my best friend had murderous tendencies.”

sam said your name, but with one glance at the clock you were already throwing on your coat and heading towards the front door. “i’ve got to go meet him,” you announced, turning on your heels for a second. “i’ll send you a pic or something to prove that he was there if that’s what you want.”

then you left.

ethan was already inside your apartment when you got there, which wasn’t alarming because you’d given him a spare key a couple of months prior to this fiasco. likewise, you knew where he hid the spare to his and chad’s apartment.

“hey,” ethan said when he saw you enter the living room, glancing up from his phone. “i didn’t start the movie.”

“i see that,” you said, taking out your phone from your pocket. “do me a favor and look cute while i take a quick picture of you.”

ethan covered his face when he saw you pointing your phone at him. “what? you can’t do that - i’m camera shy!”

“oh, please,” you droned. “basically everyone thinks that you’re fucking ghostface and i wanted to have a picture of you ready to go just in case someone gets attacked. again.”

“to prove that i’m not ghostface?”

you mocked, “now you’re getting it!”

ethan rolled his eyes. then, he sobered, staring at you emptily. “what if i am ghostface?”

“what?”

“i mean, what if mindy’s right - what if i’m… dangerous,” he said, rising to his feet. you were rooted in place when he crept towards you. “i’m always coincidentally missing during the attacks, and everyone thinks i’m with you, but we both know that that isn’t true.”

you could hear your heart thumping in your ears, getting louder with every step he took forward until he’d backed you into a wall, effectively caging you like an animal. “don’t you ever wonder where i am?”

you shook your head.

“you’re such a liar. a very pretty liar,” ethan whispered, lips curling into a wicked grin. warmth spread through your chest. ethan thinks i’m pretty. “speaking of which - why do you lie for me? i mean, i don’t even have to ask.”

“because you’re not a killer and i want to save everyone time,” you told him, though your voice had completely lost all thunder and confidence.

ethan groaned, throwing his head back. “okay, this excuse was cute the first couple of times, but i’m bored now. i need you to come up with something else.”

“it’s the truth,” you whispered.

“no, it’s not. and you wanna know what i think?” asked ethan, curling your hair around his finger. “i think it’s because you like me.”

your throat went dry and you shook your head.

“no?” ethan asked, cocking his head to the side. “well, i have to admit that i like you. i know we’re just best friends and all, but… would it be so bad if we were more?”

there was a record scratch in your head. ethan liked you?

something switched in you. all rational thinking was officially off the table. you were now consumed by months-worth of pining that was rotting you from the inside out like a spoiled apple, and something made you raise on the tips of your toes, meeting your lips to ethan’s.

ethan was surprised for a split second at your boldness, then chuckled, trapping you in his arms. it was a reckless kiss, full of mutual longing and hair-pulling, and groaning. you tangled your fingers through his long, curly tresses while his found purchase at your hips, holding you tight as ever.

“i want you,” you rasped when your mouths finally parted, as if you were coming up for air at the pits of an ocean, swimming in each other’s love. ��more than anything.”

“yeah?”

“yeah,” you repeated, staring into his beautifully brown eyes.

“fuck,” ethan said, locking lips with you again. almost like he couldn’t get enough.

frankly, you couldn’t, either.

that was how you ended up with your back to the couch, ethan’s fingertips on your bare thighs as he held them apart, head buried between your legs. all you could feel was pleasure and the lingering drumming of your heartbeat, numb to the grief and despair that’d mantled over your friends for the past few weeks.

there was something about the view of your legs thrown over ethan, caught over his broad, naked shoulders, while he was on his knees sucking the soul out of you. you remembered how he gathered your thighs in his big hands and pulled you towards the edge, draping your legs over him.

“fuck, ethan,” you whimpered, slipping your fingers through his hair. “you sure you’ve never done this before?”

ethan silently nodded, making a humming sound that shook you. his tongue was giving its undivided attention to your clit, a pair of his fingers stuffed inside your cunt. he wasn’t exactly sure what he was doing, but from the way your features tensed with pleasure, it had to be something right.

you were driving him mad with lust and you were hardly even doing anything. the way you cried out his name with that sweet tongue of yours when his thumb rubbed your clit should have been a crime, to say nothing of how utterly tight you were around his fingers, squeezing around him with the wettest of sounds.

shit, he got you this wet? ethan - much like everybody else - knew you had a thing for him with how you defended him with your life, though this was desire of the next level. in a way, it was more than lust. it was burning. from the head down, judgment clouded by mantles of smoke, so to speak.

which explained everything on your end. the lying, the deception. you knew in your heart that there was almost nothing that you wouldn’t do for him, because you loved him.

“oh my fucking god,” you cried, sensitive. “ethan, baby, i’m so close.”

ethan was painfully hard right now, rutting his hips against the side of the couch at your pretty sounds. “you’re close?” he repeated, in spite of the signs glaring him in the face. your legs trembled like you were quaking, a pulse between them.

you answered him in a moan, hands slipping out of his hair as you instead squeezed one of the couch pillows for dear life, afraid of hurting him.

“cum for me,” ethan said, lifting from your glistening pussy while substituting his mouth with his hands. “i wanna see you cum.”

looking at his eyes was all it took to shatter you. it was too quick for him to be finishing you, but he was. nice and hard.

it was like nothing you’d ever felt before, a kind of intensity you quickly understood only lived between each other. his name parted your open mouth in a scream-adjacent sound sure to do a number on the neighbors and your fingers found purchase in the pillow pressed to your bosom as your vision blurred white. ethan could feel you tightening around his long, thick fingers, and he so badly wished that it was his dick you were cumming on right now.

then, you went slack, not even realizing your back had arched off the sofa until it met the cushion again.

ethan, in awe at the sight of you orgasming, withdrew his fingers from your pussy with a squelch and said, “open.”

you opened your mouth without a second thought.

it took you by surprise when he shoved his fingers down your throat, but you sucked your own arousal off of them without a second thought - without having to be told. it was like you always just knew what he wanted. pleased, ethan hummed, “that’s it.”

you were back to earth for a second, slowly re-entering the real world as the lingering euphoric high of your orgasm gently faded. you took his fingers out of your mouth when you were done, smiling at the sight of him with your arousal giving his lips a wet glimmer. like you wanted to make him proud.

“you, woman,” ethan started, sucking in a breath. “are going to drive me crazy.”

you giggled, watching him come to a stand, though not without accidentally bumping your (thankfully empty) coffee table and sending it flat to its side. the two of you devolved into more giggles and ethan leaned over you to catch your lips in another kiss.

but as his lips started to travel lower, your giggles turned into soft sighs. you fumbled with his pants, somehow managing to take them off.

when his underwear came off too, you gaped at the sheer size of him. he was so big. matter of fact, that word didn’t do him justice.

ethan pushed your jaw up and teased, “you’ll catch flies.”

“oh, shut up,” you groaned lightheartedly. “jesus, you really walk around with that pussy-destroyer attached to you?”

ethan snorted at your choice of words. “can i destroy yours?”

you chortled, amused. “never say that again,” you whispered, grabbing the back of his head and drawing him into you.

ethan smiled into your lips. i’ll take that as a yes.

so that was exactly what he did.

you thought about what happened that night a dozen times, deciding it was simultaneously the best and worst mistake of your life. on the one hand, you’d had amazing, mind-blowing orgasms thanks to ethan and he reciprocated your feelings. you thought he did, at least. you couldn’t really tell if it was genuine or just some kind of unnecessary bait to get you to sleep with him, as if you wouldn’t have offered your body to him on a silver platter regardless.

whatever he wanted, his wish was your command. but on the other hand, that was your problem, guilt gnawing at you from the inside out. fear, too. you were a macher, you had the blood of a serial killer keeping you alive. you’d always felt guilty for that, but then you remembered ethan’s weird behavior prior to that first kiss.

a part of you wanted to believe he was joking around, just like you always believed him when he told you he was doing this or that while your friends fought for their lives. but contrary to what you told him, you did think about where he was all those times when he stood you up. you just tried to drown the thoughts out.

but you couldn’t drown them out now. what if he was the killer? no, that doesn’t make sense. ethan wouldn’t hurt anybody, would he?

it made sense, but you didn’t want to accept that all the signs pointed to him. sam was wrong. love wasn’t blind - not for you. you noticed all the little things, all the big ones, too, and never said a word to anyone.

that was why you felt guilty.

you are such a fucking dumbass, you chided yourself. you’d slept with a potential killer, which ironically made things make even more sense. if ethan did like you like he said he did, that would explain why you were the only ones who’d yet to get hurt at all, much less be in the same room during the attacks.

shouldn’t ghostface have at least called you? you were in the friend group too, and close to sam. matter of fact, you were a target. they’d tried to frame you for the crimes. you still remembered sitting in detective bailey’s office with sam and tara, baffled.

that was when your phone started to ring.

you jolted, startled. maybe it was ethan, who’d been trying to reach you for the past few days following the hookup, but you were too conflicted to speak to him right now. or maybe it was ghostface, but all your friends were pretty sure that was a synonym for ethan at this point.

when you looked at the caller id, much to your surprise, it was mindy. you pressed your phone to your ear and said, “hello?”

“hey, ghostface,” greeted mindy. you heard chad and sam groan in the background, saying something about her needing to stop being so mean to you. “the gang are at chad’s job and you’re invited to the hangout.”

“you’re hanging out,” you started, trying to wrap your head around her words. “at chad’s job?”

“we’re hanging out,” chad said, having snatched the phone from mindy. you also figured that you were on speaker. “come on, it’ll be fun. it’s a wednesday night, nobody ever comes here on wednesday nights. plus, you can get discounted surfboards.”

you grumbled, “what the fuck am i going to do with a surfboard?”

“i don’t know. surf, maybe?” chad retorted.

“give me my phone back,” mindy snarled, taking her phone from her twin. “listen, sam said you should come and i don’t think her wrath is something you wanna deal with right now.”

“okay, i’m coming. i’m coming,” you said, swiping your keys on the counter and slipping on your shoes.

“see’ya.”

the call disconnected. “jesus,” you mumbled under your breath, heading out the front door.

chad worked part-time at a surf shop that happened to not be too much of a distance from your apartment. you walked inside, chad behind the bar flirting with tara, mindy and sam arguing over a surfboard design that mindy thought that was hideous and sam found cute, but your eyes locked on ethan.

you didn’t know why you thought that he wouldn’t be here.

you shifted your gaze. this was about to be the most awkward hangout of your life.

“look who’s here in the flesh,” chad announced, almost looking surprised to see you there.

mindy clasped her hands together and said, “yes, instead of cutting other people’s flesh.”

chad groaned, “god, mindy, could you stop with the accusations for five goddamn seconds?”

“it’s fine, chad,” you said, ignoring her. “so, remind me why we’re hanging out at a surf shop of all places again?”

“because what better place to hang out than at a shop with terrible surfboard designs,” replied mindy.

sam exclaimed, “the design was cute!”

“to you,” mindy and tara retorted in unison.

ethan had been watching you, and his fixed gaze was not lost on you, but you had no intention of reconciling with him right now. he shifted his attention and asked, “what if we get, like, attacked?”

mindy brushed him off. “you’re here, ghostface. why would we get attacked?”

“i mean, there is usually more than one,” you added, not sparing ethan a glance in spite of the fact that you could feel his weighty stare on your shoulder.

mindy pointed at you. “that’s why you’re here, too.”

is that what this was about - they were trying to see if you were ghostface?

“we were together,” you insisted, as if that were the problem.

mindy rolled her eyes, mocking, “‘i was with ethan’ this, ‘ethan was with me’ that. yeah, chopping up people’s bodies like bonnie and clyde!”

you glanced at sam who immediately raised her hands, as if to say she was innocent. you thought she trusted you.

that was when you saw a cloaked figure closing in on her and you screamed, “behind you!”

sam skirted out of the way just in time to slip shy of the ghostface’s knife, alarming the six of you. you all immediately started to run, screaming in terror.

chad darted from behind the cash register with tara’s hand in his, dashing over to the entrance, but the door was locked from the inside. he grumbled, “what the fuck?”

you glared, shouting, “are you sure he’s not the killer?”

“don’t ever fucking say that again,” tara exclaimed in lieu of mindy, and frankly you weren’t inclined to get on the bad side of multiple people, so you kept your mouth shut.

then, the unimaginable happened, and the ghostface started charging after you. you ran as fast as you could, almost tripping over your own feet, zipping past racks of clothes. the ghostface caught you at a surfboard stand. you slid to the left, but it followed you, and the pattern repeated when you slid to the right. you made an instinct-driven decision to snatch one of the (agreeably ugly) surfboards off the stand that mindy and sam had been debating over, smacking the masked figure with it.

then, you ran for your life.

chad pointed at the surfboards and exclaimed, “see, they come in handy!”

you couldn’t be annoyed right now of all moments. what the fuck am i going to do with a surfboard? it looked like you had your answer.

the ghostface gave up on pursuing you for the meantime, chasing sam upstairs. mindy went behind her, and before following suit, chad said to tara, “there’s an exit at the back of that room. go see if it’s open.”

tara nodded, running away at the speed of light.

ethan tugged your hand and pulled you behind a shelf of flip-flops, pulling you towards the ground. you crept down, glancing around the corner, watching ghostface slash sam in the arm with a wince while you were hidden.

“why the hell have you been avoiding me?” ethan asked, whispering yet yelling at the same time.

you narrowed your eyes at him in disbelief. “do you really wanna talk about this while there’s a maniac chasing us with a knife?”

“yes, i do really wanna talk about this while there’s a maniac chasing us with a knife,” ethan retorted, briefly spying from the end of the shelf. “did you have some kind of post-nut clarity?”

you exhaled a breath. something like that, yeah. “i just need time to think.”

“you just need time to think?”

you bobbed your head.

ethan was obviously not pleased, asking, “what is there to think about? i like you and you like me.”

“and all our friends that we’re fucking bonnie and clyde,” you retorted.

“is that so bad?” ethan asked, nudging your side. “you don’t wanna be my ride-or-die?”

you didn’t get the chance to respond before you saw mindy topple over the railing and you rushed over to shove a clothing rack out of her way. it was a less than graceful fall and it still hurt like a bitch, but a lot less than metal. she rolled off your back, murmuring a faint, “thank you.”

you gave her a weak thumbs up.

you flitted your gaze upstairs just quick enough to see chad push the ghostface down to the ground floor. you pushed mindy out of the course of the fallen, broken railing, rolling over, and watched the ghostface crash into a glass display.

that was when tara ran from the back room, exclaiming, “the door was locked, but i got it open. come on - let’s motherfucking go!”

the five of you ran behind her, you and tara running upstairs to help sam - she had been stabbed in the arm - and tugging her out without looking back.

apparently you and sam were the only ones who drove your way to chad’s job, so tara took her keys and the six of you split up into two groups of three, agreeing to meet at the hospital.

but it didn’t stop there.

after getting bandaged up, sam said that she wanted to end things now - there was no point in drawing it out and waiting for more bodies to drop. you gave the killer an advantage that way. it was fortunate enough that none of you were killed during the attack, though mindy was still recovering from when she was stabbed and that, on top of today’s injuries, landed her a stay at the hospital.

the doctors said that had you not broken her fall, it would have been more serious.

there was a consensus that you’d call kirby and detective bailey, who both told you to gather at the shrine. ethan stayed behind to have some injuries looked at, but the other four of you went straight to the theater.

wrong move.

it was you that got the call from detective bailey with the newfound information on agent kirby. you’d been trying to clear the theater with sam when your phone rang, startling the both of you. you put the phone on speaker so that he could speak with both you and sam, your heart racing when he informed you both that she was no longer with the fbi and you guys needed to get out of there expeditiously. which you tried to do, but the doors were locked.

it all happened so fast.

one second, you were looking for an escape, and the next, you’d come face-to-face with ghostface. you and sam burst through the door to the concession stand room, startling chad and tara, the latter who had a slash going down her back.

you helped chad deter the ghostface while sam grabbed tara, and the four of you ran for lives. it felt like you were running in circles (probably because you were), as if you were in some sort of labyrinth. all the doors were locked. when you circled back to the concession stand, chad got stabbed just as you were running out of the door.

“no, chad!” screamed tara.

your heart wreched at the sight of chad dropping to his knees, blood gathering in his mouth and tears pricking his eyes, but you said to tara, “tara, we’ve gotta go, there’s nothing we can do for him right now.”

“run,” was the last thing chad whispered before he fell to the floor.

you, sam, and tara begrudgingly ran into the theater, abandoning chad. kirby ran into view, obviously a little roughed up, and said, “i’m here!”

“stay back,” you warned.

tara hissed, “we know it’s you, kirby.”

kirby was baffled. “what? no - one of them knocked me out!”

“get away from the girls,” shouted detective bailey, practically materializing out of thin air.

“what? whatever he’s been telling you, he’s lying!” kirby shouted, eyes widening in horror when she saw one of the ghostface coming up behind detective bailey. “behind you!”

just as detective bailey was about to get stabbed, he shot kirby to the floor and the ghostface retracted the knife. all you, sam, and tara could do was watch as everything unfolded before your eyes - all of the secrets and lies. “great job,” bailey said, lowering his gun as the second ghostface came to stand beside him. “both of you.”

“you?” tara asked.

detective bailey drawled, “yeah, of course me. frankly, i expected more from you and your sister after what you did to us.”

tara furrowed her brows. “what do you mean us?”

the ghostface to his left started to remove their mask, and when ethan unmasked himself, you stood there empty. there was no emotion stirring inside you - no pain, no fear, no anger, no shock. it was like you’d been milked dry to numb you for this moment where you’d run out of places to hide from the truth. where you’d have to confront it head-on.

sam glanced at you, your dull, expressionless face compared to hers and tara’s. “did you know?”

tara shook her head, looking at you with betrayal. “were you in on it?”

you said nothing. you felt nothing.

“this was your grandmother’s, sam,” ethan said, holding up his mask. “i guess it really does run in the fucking family. speaking of family, my name’s not ethan landry!”

detective bailey chuckled while the three of you were left in the dark.

“is it, dad?” ethan asked, grinning.

both of them started to laugh borderline hysterically, as if something was funny.

tara repeated, “dad?”

sam took a deep breath. “wait, if it’s you two, that just leaves… mindy?”

the moment of silence before the other ghostface unmasked themself was the most dreadful of all, and you felt a weird combination of relief and shock when you saw quinn’s ginger hair as she sang to sam and tara, “hey, roomies. didn’t see that one coming, did you?”

tara exclaimed, “yeah, because you died!”

“kind of didn’t, though,” quinn said. “it was a good way to get off the suspect list. stab gale weathers, stab mindy on the train. that sort of thing.”

detective bailey nodded along, wrapping his arms around their shoulders. “yup, and i just made sure i was first on scene so i could switch her body out with a fresh one. a little fake blood, a prosthetic. you’d be amazed at what a grieving father can get away with.”

“i got your father’s mask,” quinn said to you, walking around with stu macher’s mask. “he was my favorite.”

you frowned.

detective bailey went on some rant that you didn’t entirely grasp because your head was spinning, though it wasn’t necessarily directed to you as much as it was the carpenter’s, which made you second-guess your involvement in this. why frame you for your own boss’ death if they didn’t want you dead, too?

“you’re a killer,” detective bailey said, pointing to sam. “just like your father!”

sam screamed, “no, i’m not!”

quinn screamed even louder, face tensing with anger, “yes, you are, motherfucker - you killed our brother!”

“you said your brother died in a car accident,” tara reminded.

“no, no, no, you sweet, dumb thing,” ethan said. “he died in woodsboro at the hands of your sister.”

sam glanced from ethan to quinn until her eyes finally landed on detective bailey again and the realization settled in within the three of you. she said after a moment, “you’re richie’s family.”

“yeah,” detective bailey said somberly. “now, it wasn’t until i saw those photos of what you did, i knew that you had to fucking die - you had to be punished! along with anyone else who stands in our way.”

you felt all the air whoosh out of your lungs when detective bailey finally seemed to perceive you, glancing towards you. he said your name. “you’re probably wondering what the hell this has to do with you. stu macher was richie’s favorite too, you know. and when i found out that his illegitimate daughter was friends with my son, well, i knew you could be useful.”

“what the fuck are you talking about?” you exclaimed.

bailey waved you off. “you proved yourself to be very useful indeed, without having to be asked. being ethan’s alibi every time without fail in spite of being the only one to know he’s never where he says he is? come on, you’re a smart girl. i’m sure you knew who he was long before this.”

you looked to your feet, cowering. you could feel sam and tara’s eyes on you and it made you queasy.

tara made a jab at detective bailey which led him to go on another tangent about not being the perfect father and the bond between a father and his first-born son, but your eyes were locked on ethan. you could feel his stare on you, too, his pair of eyes as weighty as the carpenter’s. you could see something in him falter the more bailey went on about richie, but something hadn’t been right with him since the reveal. he seemed so… out of it.

bailey shifted his attention back to you, having had enough of being distracted by the sisters, and said your name again. “i dragged you into this to make you a deal. you’ve already proved that you would make a great partner. and i want you to be on our team.”

tara shouted, “what?”

“nobody’s talking to you, bitch,” roared quinn.

“you have to pick a side. them,” detective bailey said, waving his knife towards sam and tara. “or us.”

the spotlight was on you. your heart was racing, thumping in your ears. it felt like it was going to jump out of your chest. you stood in the middle. to your left, you saw sam and tara, shaking their heads in an attempt to discourage you. but to your right, you saw ethan and his family, ethan giving you the blankest, stare.

it almost felt apologetic, but this was do-or-die now. you couldn’t let your affairs of the heart take your life.

the detective tried to win you over, starting, “this is what your father would have wanted. don’t you want to make your daddy proud?”

you’d been walking over to them, much to sam and tara’s dismay, but those words made you grind to a halt as everything became clear to you. and you fucking chuckled. “you don’t care about ethan.”

detective bailey’s brows furrowed. “what are you talking about?”

ethan shouted, “you watch your mouth!”

you shook your head, raising your hand at ethan from afar as you put the pieces together. “no, i bet it’s always richie this, richie that. ethan, did you want to do this from the jump?”

“of course, he did,” bailey lied, sneering at you. “this is for his brother!”

“god, do i know,” you groaned. your eyes locked on ethan. “i’m sure the idea sounded brilliant in your head. juke the roommate lottery, meet chad, kill all your friends and maybe, just maybe dad will love you the way that he loved richie. is it working? did you make daddy proud? are you proud of him, detective bailey?”

quinn screamed at the top of her lungs, “shut the fuck up!”

but you didn’t. you kept talking. you kept pushing. “i know who my father was. and i know who i am. maybe i was scared that because his blood is running through me right now, that i’d end up just like him. but i’m more than stu macher’s daughter.”

detective bailey looked unimpressed and ready to get this over with. “what exactly are you, then?”

“i’m the girl that’s going to walk out of here and live to tell the story,” you hissed, much to bailey’s amusement.

you shifted back to your would-be boyfriend.

“so, ethan. you choose. do you want to be the hero in my story,” you pointed to sam and tara. “or the villain?”

it wasn’t unnoticed how you looked detective bailey plain in the eye.

everybody’s eyes were on ethan. the silence was the most terrifying of it all, the prolonged agony of the unpredictable. you liked to think that you knew ethan, but this was the only way you could be sure.

the anticipation blindsided everyone in the room when ethan made the shocking decision to walk over to you and spoke, “i just want to be whatever you need.”

you stayed on-guard as he approached you, seeing as he was armed and it could have been a trick, but you were pleasantly surprised when he handed you his knife.

“well, i need a hero,” you told him.

“then i’ll be that.”

shit hit the fan and everybody immediately went to war.

ethan grabbed your hand, somehow managing to pull you away undetected as his family dealt with the brutal sting of betrayal by unleashing it onto the carpenter’s.

you whispered, “eth, i can’t stay here. they’re my friends. do you think my father would have just hid?”

ethan shot back, “i thought you didn’t want to be like your father?”

“well, maybe he had some admirable characteristics,” you hissed, beginning to run to protect your friends.

“wait,” ethan called out, grabbing your wrist. “you’re forgetting something.”

you gave him a confused look, but it all melted away when he smashed his lips against yours, kissing you with all the emotions a man could bear. you kissed him back just as passionately, almost as if it would be the last time.

“i love you,” ethan exhaled when he pulled away, because you two were running out of time. “i never would have hurt you, i need you to know that. that’s why i made plans with you and then i bailed. i wanted to make sure you weren’t there, so you’d be safe.”

“ethan,” you started.

ethan ignored you, emotionally continuing, “i didn’t want to do this. i just wanted to feel like i meant something to him. and i know sorry isn’t going to bring your friends back, but...”

you cried out, “e, behind you!”

ethan turned around just in time to see quinn trailing him with a knife. “you chose the wrong side, brother. a loose fucking whore over your family?”

“you watch your fucking mouth, quinn,” ethan growled, charging towards his sister.

you watched in terror, considering he was unarmed.

“go,” ethan shouted to you, looking back for a second. “baby, go!”

you begrudgingly did as told, running out of the room and locating sam and tara who were currently fighting detective bailey. you hid behind him, undetected, and lunged at him. he heard you approaching and turned at the last second, but his arm still got caught on your blade and you managed to slice him up a little.

“you’re going to regret that,” detective bailey seethed, coming towards you.

out of nowhere, quinn charged back into the room, slightly injured but a beast nonetheless - almost as if the pain didn’t bother her. but you didn’t see ethan, which filled your heart with worry.

you didn’t have time to ask questions, because when quinn saw the knife in your hand and the wound on her father, she immediately beared what was left of her teeth (you had seen sam and tara holding bricks) and came for you.

tara moved at the speed of light and toppled the tv over, the one that had killed your father all those years ago, and sent it crashing down with quinn’s body. you heard something break that obviously wasn’t the tv and saw her go limp.

sam mocked to bailey, “looks like you’re down another child.”

“you,” hissed detective bailey, charging at sam, until you heard a gunshot and he sank down to his knees, wounded.

you turned around and spotted ethan holding the trigger. he was limping towards you, blood dripping through the fabric of his costume, and he’d obviously been stabbed.

“ethan,” you called out, almost coming over to get him.

“i’m fine,” he said, holding up his hand to stop you in your tracks. “i’m okay.”

detective bailey glanced at his only remaining child, speaking faintly, “you’re making a fatal mistake, son.”

ethan shook his head, face tensing with rage. “it stops right here, dad. it stops with you. no more of this bullshit.”

sam glanced at you. “you want to do the honors?”

you bobbed your head. “hell, yeah,” you said, walking up to detective bailey’s body.

“you’re just like your father too,” he hissed. “you always will be!”

“maybe,” you whispered, crouching down. “but you’re forgetting one thing.”

bailey barked, “what?”

“i’d have to actually kill somebody to be just like him, and there’s no one better to start with than you,” you crooned, smiling like the devil. “for richie.”

“for richie,” sam repeated when you raises your knife.

you jabbed the knife right between his eyes, stabbing as deep as you possibly could as you watched the detective’s face pale, before all the life was drained from it altogether.

when he stilled, it was like a breath of fresh air. sam and tara went to sit at the steps while you came over to ethan, lowering him to the ground and applying pleasure to his wound. he hissed in pain, and you whispered, “sorry. i’m sorry. i know it hurts, but we have to stop the bleeding.”

“it’s okay,” ethan whispered, looking into your eyes. “if i die right now, at least you’ll be the last thing i see.”

“don’t fucking say that,” you whispered, tears burning your eyes. “you’re gonna be okay. we’ll get an ambulance here and they’ll help you, and you’re gonna need a really good fucking lawyer.”

ethan snickered, brushing your hair out of your face. “isn’t the macher family rich?”

you rolled your eyes, bringing your lips to his as you kissed him with all the love in the world.

he would pull through, you knew he would. everything was going to be okay.

#ethan landry #ethan landry smut #scream 6 #scream 6 imagines #ethan landry x reader #ethan landry x you

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space-helen · 1 year ago

Text

Like Her

Words: 1601

Pairing: Fox Mulder x Reader

A/N: This is the longest thing I've written in a while and I enjoyed it so much!!

Request: Could I request a Mulder x reader where the reader has fallen in love with him but she is sure he doesn’t like her because he is always thirsting after like, those porn models in his magazines and stuff. Little does she know that he loves her just as much. Essentially just heavy angst to fluff with kisses 🥺 - Anon

______________________

“No problem. Anytime.” the man said smoothly as he slid back into the driver's seat.

You adjusted yourself where you sat and watched the woman walk away. She was drop dead gorgeous, beautiful on another level, just like the women you see in magazines. Ripping your eyes away from her you tuned back into where you were, turning towards Mulder to ask him a question you realised he was looking right at you, as if waiting for a response.

“I’m sorry, repeat that?” you said slightly embarrassed.

“Do you want to grab something to eat or head right back?”

You looked at the time, you’d been on a rough journey with the man, all practically for nothing. You were hot, tired, slightly sad and frankly ready to crawl back into bed.

“Lets drive as much as we can before one of us feels like their stomach might decide to eat itself. Then we can switch drivers.”

“I really don’t mind driving all of the way.” he looked sincere as he spoke.

You shrugged “Then lets hope neither of us get hungry or I’ll be hopping right behind the wheel.”

The man fought a smirk appearing on his lips and started the engine “Whatever you say Y/L/N.”

Leaning back into the seat you listened as the man spoke about the case but couldn’t help but let the sadness ebb and grow. This man, the man beside you, was sunshine to you. He’d helped you through a lot and you genuinely didn’t know what you’d do without him, sure he has his quirks, everyone does, but he really made you feel different. He made you feel seen and special, made you want to spend every moment you could with him.

At the start you told yourself you wouldn’t put yourself through liking him. Well in some ways you’d kept that promise, you didn’t like him, you loved him.

You knew he liked you as a friend. Heck a man who didn’t like you at all wouldn’t do any of the things he’d done for you.

Sighing a tear ran down your cheek and you quickly wiped it away but this didn’t go unnoticed by the man. Leaning forward you opened the glove compartment to check if the tissues you’d put in there were still there but a magazine slipped out first.

Turning it over you were face to face with an image of an insanely beautiful woman. Quickly stuffing it back inside you almost slammed the glove compartment shut and sat back. Tears rolling down your cheeks almost uncontrollably. You weren’t hysterical though, they fell silently and naturally.

The man's heart dropped at the sight. He absolutely hated to see you this way but would always do anything he could to make you feel comforted. “Y/N.” he spoke softly as he continued to drive. Looking for a place to pull over.

Reaching a hand over he gently placed it on your shoulder as he kept the other on the wheel. “What’s the matter huh?”

Your heart felt heavy. A multitude of things had brought on the tears but having the man you were crying about try and make it better hurt a little more. “I’m ok.”

“You’re clearly not.” he pulled the car over and turned to you but you tried to face the other way.

“You’re never like this when you’re upset. What’s wrong? " His voice was calm.

A sob left your body and you could feel it trembling, it was silly, it really was but you couldn’t help it.

The man was out of the car in an instant. He quickly moved around the car and opened your door, crouching down in the space he looked up to you and comfortingly took your hand. “Y/N, please, speak to me.”

You could feel the warmth of his hand around yours, even though you were way too warm you really didn’t mind.

“I’m just overwhelmed.” you hoped that would suffice.

“Talk to me.”

“I’m hot, tired, and my heart just hurts ok?” you were done with it all. You could always find another, less fulfilling job elsewhere.

“We can fix two of those things right now. Take your jacket off, we can go and find some cool water and you can nap in the car.” he offered “Why does your heart hurt?”

You let out a huge sigh “I love someone who’ll never love me back. He’s way too interested in model girls, and sure, I really don’t blame him. I could never compare to them.” you weaseled your hand from his and used both of them to wipe your tears “I’m just being silly. Let's go.”

“No.” His voice was soft yet firm. “You’re better than any of those models and he’d be dumb to not see it.”

Your eyes burned and you felt a laugh bubble though “Try telling that to him huh?” you looked at him and his eyes met his “If only you knew.”

He brought his hand up to your face and pushed some hair behind your ear whilst he took one of your hands in his other. “Is it Clive?” he looked at the floor as he spoke, not really wanting the confirmation.

“It’s you.” your voice was practically a whisper.

His head snapped up, his eyes meeting yours again. Had he just made that up in his head? “What did you say?”

You tore your eyes from his “I’m sorry, forget about it. It’s nothing.”

“Did you say it was me?”

“Leave it.” you took your hand from his.

“I feel the same about you.”

You looked towards him “What?”

“I like you, well more than that, as well.”

“Don’t mess with me Mulder, you don’t need to just because I’m upset. I know you like me as a friend but-”

“I mean it.” His voice felt like it echoed for a second.

“But, I’m seriously not your type.”

“What is my type then?”

You reached forward and pulled the magazine out “This.”

“Y/N” he sighed and took the magazine from you. “At one point in my life yeah sure. Not anymore. Old Sam gave it to me as a joke, you know he knows me from about ten years ago, give or take, he bought me one back then and again now as a joke.”

He walked away from you to the trash can and put the magazine inside before closing your door and returning to the driver's seat “I’m sorry. I really am. I’ve had a crush on you for a long time now. Since I first laid my eyes on you. I just didn’t ever think you’d feel the same. If I’d known-”

You nodded and faced the man “I’m sorry for being a bit emotional today.”

“Sorry? We’d never have known how we felt if you hadn't been.”

You let out a slight laugh “Yeah, you could say that.”

“I really think we should at least try and grab some snacks and just do our best to do the journey in one.”

You mulled it over for a second “Sure. Then we can-”

“We’re not swapping. If I remember right, there's a gas station about ten minutes from here. We can grab snacks and then get back onto the road with me driving. You, however, will sleep.”

“I’m not-”

“You just said you were so don’t try and say you’re not tired.”

You smiled, your tears were drying up “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me again. I don’t deserve it for putting you through that.”

The ten minute drive went quickly, the two of you soon breaking out into conversation about the case and awful day that it’d been. Navigating the gas station quickly the two of you stood in line with your snacks. Even though you were practically in the middle of nowhere there was still a decently sized queue.

As the line got more condensed the man stood closer to you, practically pressed to your side yet behind you protectively.

Looking up towards the man your eyes met, the two of you sharing the moment before having to shuffle forward in the queue again.

What took you by slight surprise was the feeling of the man leaning forward and placing a kiss to your head in an affectionate way. The way a long term couple would do subtly in public to show affection without embarrassing those around them

You felt warmth rush to your face and a smile break out on your lips. The man wrapped his arms around you subtly and you embraced them back before having to breakaway to move to the cashier.

The two of you beamed as you paid for the groceries, you insisted that you paid since Mulder was going to drive the rest of the way.

Sliding back into the car the two of you settled nicely. Mulder spoke about some sightings he’d been tracking and trying to stay up to date with in the United Kingdom. He knew it was unlikely that he’d never be able to investigate it but he was invested in the case.

He noticed that you’d gradually shortened your responses and that they’d become incredibly infrequent until you pretty much weren’t responding to him at all.

Quickly taking a look at you whilst he drove he could see that you were fast asleep. Training his eyes back on the road he let a sad smile form on his lips.

He loved you more than anything and was hurt that he’d made you feel otherwise. He’d do absolutely anything to never see you that way again.

Tag List: (open) X Files: @discocactus-world

#fox mulder x reader #mulder x reader #the x files x reader #xfiles x reader #x files x reader #the xfiles x reader

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autisticlancemcclain · 1 year ago

Text

Keith wakes up with terror turning to ice in his veins and his brother’s name clawing its way out of his throat.

He takes a moment, chest heaving, to orient himself. The details of the dream quickly fade, dark caves and towering footsteps, leaving only an impression of fear and the memory of Shiro, falling, crying out for Keith to save him, and Keith being just too late. He peels the sweat-soaked sheets off himself in disgust, tossing them haphazardly on the ground in front of him. Grunting, he forces himself upright, placing his feet on the cold tile floor of his bedroom to force himself fully awake. Sunlight streams through his window, assaulting his bleary eyes, making him grumble as he walks over to the bathroom to brush his teeth and get ready for the day.

Not unusually, his nightmares have woken him hours before he really needs to be awake. He only has one afternoon class, today, and it's frustrating to have one of his few mornings off spoiled so early. As he spits frothy toothpaste into the sink, he tries to rework the whole situation in his mind. Waking up too early sucks, but with the extra time this morning, he’ll have time to wash his sheets. That’s a net neutral, at least.

It doesn’t take him too long to gather up a load of linens and clothes, tossing them into the machine, sipping a coffee as the old thing chugs on. He hangs them to dry once the cycle is over, tossing some overdue marking into his messenger bag and scarfing down a bagel before hopping onto his bike.

His bicycle, that is. He would never take his precious bike to class. The one and only time he had, it had been vandalised by angry students. Never again.

The ride to the school is uneventful, normal, boring. Even the asshole drivers who refuse to give him space on the road, coming within inches of crushing him, are par for the course. He wonders if he looks particularly dead-eyed, or if that’s just how he feels.

“Hey, Pidge,” he says to his lab assistant, nodding at her as he walks into their lab. She shouldn’t even be his lab assistant, really. She’s more brilliant than he’ll ever be, and it’s insulting that she has to answer to him. But she’s only twenty, and whip smart as she is, their field is ripe with rich old white guys who smile condescendingly at her and call her sweetheart. No one will give her a tenured position. So while not ideal, their situation is the best both of them can come up with: Pidge gets total freedom in his lab, any resource that she wants and he can get his hands on, and he’ll publish any finding she discovers with her name as a second on the paper. That way she’ll be credited with dozens of peer-reviewed papers before she even has her doctorate, and once she’s finally got a lab of her own and every intellectual around the globe is interviewing her, she can tell them all where to stuff it and get all the credit she deserves.

“Bad news, Kogane,” Pidge says, glancing up at him with a furrowed brow.

Keith grimaces. If Pidge is looking up from her computer screen, then he’s fucked.

“Is the building on fire?” he says hopefully. That’s a slightly less miserable conclusion than the one he knows is happening.

She huffs sadly, shaking her head. “Nah, check the douchebag waiting in your office.”

Sighing, Keith does. James Griffin, head of the geography department and the resident jackass who’s been trying to shut Keith down for years.

“Keith!” he cries, grinning at him like they’re friends.

Keith doesn’t even pretend to smile at him, staring at him blankly.

“Good to see you, pal,” James continues, either oblivious or uncaring. “Thought I’d drop by and personally deliver the news. I’m getting a new office!”

The absurdity of the sentence makes Keith blink, looking at James in confusion. “Pardon?”

James ignores him, pulling out a tape measure and holding it against the cabinets and counters, barely even making any real effort to measure anything. Keith finally starts to notice the smugness to his department head’s grin, and something like dread builds in his stomach.

“See, progressive volcanology just isn’t what it used to be. Ten years ago it was breakthrough science, today it’s an ancient relic of the past.” He snaps the tape measure closed, turning back to face Keith. He no longer makes any effort to hide his smirk, placing a falsely pitying hand on Keith’s shoulder. Keith shrugs it off immediately. “They’re shuttin’ ya down, bud. I’m taking the space. I’m sure you myriad of adoring students will be devastated, but budget cuts are budget cuts, and this is a decision the department has to make. For the good of the university, you understand.”

Keith knows that pleading is useless. In all likelihood, this decision was made months ago, and he’s only hearing about it now because it’s been finalised. No way would James be so confident otherwise.

But there’s nothing he can do to stop himself from trying.

“You can’t shut us down,” he pleads, throat unfathomably dry. “We’re – we’re on the verge of a breakthrough, James, I can feel it, shutting us down would be spitting in the face of progress –”

“How many of your sensors are even still active?” James interrupts. “One? Two?”

He sounds so smug that Keith can’t bear it. “Three!”

“Right,” James says, snorting. “Three whole sensors.” He turns away, patting one of the overhanging shelves of the wall, crowded from front to back with dozens and dozens of rock samples slowly collecting dust. “It’s not worth the money it takes to keep them going.”

“You can’t do this,” Keith begs, voice quiet and small. He hates himself for his weakness in front of James, of all people in the world, but his hands shake and his blood rushes in his ears and the only thought running through his mind is save the lab save the lab save the lab. “It’s all I have left. Of him.”

To James’ credit, that gives him pause. He’s an asshole, but he’s not a monster.

“It’s been ten years, man,” he says softly. “The lab isn’t going to bring him back.”

Keith says nothing. He stares at him, eyes hard, hatred and pain alike building up in them and spilling over.

Shiro’s sensors. Shiro’s work. Shiro, all over the lab, in every way, the only pieces Keith has of him that are still going, that are not stagnant, and James is taking them away. Whether or not it’s James’ fault directly is irrelevant – Keith hates him for any role he plays.

“I’m sorry, Keith,” James says, and he almost sounds sincere before disappearing out of the lab and down the hall.

Keith sits down heavily in his – in Shiro’s – rickety old office chair as he goes, elbows on the crowded desk, fingers clenched in his hair. Pidge puts a gentle and awkward hand on his shoulder.

It doesn’t matter.

— — —

His classes pass in a blur. None of his students even pretend to pay attention, but that’s not unusual. He can’t remember the last time someone came into his classroom and gave even one eighth of a shit. Hell, the last person in his class to care might have been Pidge.

By the end of the day, he’s exhausted. He dreads the bike ride home, knowing it will take more energy than he has, but he tries to convince himself that the fresh air might make him feel less like the world is collapsing in on itself.

He fails.

By the time he stumbles through the door, late afternoon light spilling over his messy coffee table, he feels like a used battery from 1996. He slides the scattered change he’d found on the road today into one of his near-filled collection bottles and collapses on the couch, face-first, groaning as loud as he can into a scratchy pillow. He blindly flails one arm around until it hits the beeping answering machine, letting it play its onslaught of messages, preparing to delete whatever spam calls have made it through while he was gone.

“Keith, hey. It’s Adam. Just calling to remind you that today’s the day! We just left, we’ll be there around quarter to six? Hopefully. See you soon.”

With a gasp, Keith yanks himself upright with so much force he nearly throws himself off the couch.

Adam.

Adam!

The next message plays automatically. “Hey, got your answering machine again. Getting a little worried. We’re halfway there, and we can’t wait to see you. Right, kiddo?”

A much younger voice mutters something unintelligible, but the tone makes their enthusiasm – or lack thereof – abundantly clear.

Keith sweeps a bunch of junk off his coffee table, frantically searching for his calendar. He finds it under a stack of half-finished books, praying to himself that what he’s hearing is wrong somehow, and today is not the day he thinks it is.

In bold red ben, in the tiny square of the 28th of June, is his niece’s name written in capital letters and underlined no less than five times.

“Hana,” he breathes, and looks in horror at his watch just as the answering machine beeps and plays the newest message.

“Alright, well, we’re ten minutes away, so I hope everything’s okay. Please be ready.”

“Fuck!” Keith shouts, jumping up off the couch and catapulting into action. He can’t believe he forgot! It’s so easy for all the days to blur together, for dates to lose meaning, when everything is so mundane. He’s been thinking that Hana’s visit is ‘months away’ for half a year now, completely forgetting that time is, in fact, linear.

Adam is going to kill him. And worst of all, he is going to be justified.

He starts scooping random shit off end tables and random surfaces, sticking it wherever there’s space. Adam is a neat freak, always has been, and if he looks through that front door and sees the mess he is about to leave his only daughter in for ten whole days he is going to take it out on Keith’s hide. Keith shoves a random stack of cereal bowls into a drawer, stuffs a cabinet full of old newspapers, kicks a pile of discarded sweaters into a corner and throws a blanket over them. His answering machine beeps again, and he whips his head to his clock, watching in horror as the big hand ticks to the 9 – it’s five forty-five on the dot.

“Hope you’re home, Keith, because we’re pulling up to your place.”

A silver car slows to a stop across the street.

“Fuck!”

Keith increases his half-assed cleaning tenfold. He dumps every dish he sees into the sink, hacks up a lung from trying to blow away the accumulated dust, glances in the fridge to see what expired food he needs to toss. Is Adam going to search through his fridge? Probably not.

But there’s a chance.

He sees his brother-in-law approach the front door as he’s holding a stack of greasy car parts and freezes, slowly backing away as the man turns and makes a face at the car. Keith hears the doorbell ring but ignores it, figuring he has about three more rings to panic-clean before Adam gets fed up and picks the lock. He rushes to his bedroom, grabbing the truly gigantic quilt Pidge’s brother had made him, and throws it over his couch, coffee table, and armchair in a half-assed attempt to make the room look less like Keith has not cleaned in several weeks.

It does not work.

The doorbell rings for a third time, followed by rapid knocking.

“Keith? You home?”

Keith takes a deep breath, forcing a smile on his face.

Fine. This is going to be fine.

“Hey, Adam!” he greets, opening the door. Adam glances behind him, taking in the mess, so Keith quickly closes the door as much as he can without squishing himself.

Unfortunately, Adam has always been quick. He raises a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. “You forgot, didn’t you.”

“Forget?” Keith laughs nervously. “Of course I didn’t – I didn’t forget! Been looking forward to this for weeks, counting down the days, just been prepping like you would not believe –”

Adam takes off his glasses, cleaning them slowly while making direct eye contact.

Keith sighs.

“Yeah, I forgot.”

“Come on, Keith,” Adam sighs, sliding his glasses back up his nose. “We planned this months ago. Ten days. That’s all I ask. She’s your niece.”

“Just because I forgot doesn’t mean I wasn’t looking forward to it!” Keith says defensively. “I haven’t seen her since she was what, nine?”

“Seven,” Adam corrects flatly.

Keith winces. “Right. Seven.” He follows his brother-in-law to his car, forcing himself not to drag his feet. He is excited. He is. He loves his niece, and besides, it’s only ten days. What can happen in ten days?

“Hana,” Adam says, knocking on the roof of the car. “Say hi to your uncle.”

“Hi to your uncle,” deadpans a young girl, pulling her beanie further down over her eyes and sinking into her seat. Adam sighs, heading to the trunk to dig out some bags, and Keith has to bite his cheek to keep from laughing. He probably shouldn’t laugh when teenagers are being little shits, but that was kind of funny.

“Hey, kid,” Keith says, in the same semi-awkward tone he used to talk to Pidge in until she started decking him every time he did. He inclines his head at the device in her hands. “Whatcha got there? One of those ePod thingies?”

The look she gives him is so dry and judgemental that Keith almost feels the need to both apologise and pull out a fiver to pay for the stupidity of his sentence, which is honestly an insanely powerful look for a thirteen year old to pull off.

Only Adam’s kid, honestly.

“It’s a PSP,” she says, like that’s the most obvious thing in the world and Keith is a dunce for not knowing. “And ePods aren’t a thing. The word you’re looking for is iPod.”

Lordie, this is going to be a tough ten days. Keith should have researched how to make teenagers like him.

Well. Maybe not. That would probably get him on a list somewhere.

“It’s good to see you, Hana,” Keith says, switching gears. He smiles slightly, and it's genuine, because he really is glad to see her. “You wanna head inside? Door’s open, I’ll meet you in a few.”

“Come see me first, baby,” Adam calls.

Hana huffs and walks over to see her dad. He hands her a duffel bag, which she shrugs over her shoulder, and then cups her face tightly, leaning down to kiss her head.

“Ten days, okay?” he murmurs. “Then I’ll meet you in the Ottawa airport.” He squeezes her in a hug, which she returns, if slightly reluctantly. “This move will be good for us.”

“Right,” Hana says, so bitter that Keith actually physically winces. “I am so pumped to leave behind everything I’ve ever known and go live in a new country. Thank you so much for doing this for me.”

Without so much as a backwards glance at her father, she pulls away and stomps inside to Keith’s place.

“Yikes,” Keith says, grimacing at his brother-in-law. Adam isn’t looking at him, gaze following his daughter with an expression Keith can only describe as pained. He doesn’t say anything for several moments, just staring at the house, eyes far-away and deeply sad. Keith’s chest starts to ache, right under his sternum, because he gets that look, too.

“I don’t know what to do,” Adam says softly. “I’m just — I’m just trying to do the right thing for her.” And it’s been months since they’ve talked anything but surface level pleasantries but they will always be the same, Keith thinks, and he reaches over and squeezes Adam’s hand because he will always be family. Adam squeezes back, smiling tightly.

“I’ll take care of her,” Keith promises. He swallows against the sandpaper roughness of his throat and tries to stand up straight, to make up for his crumpled shirt and messy hair. The attemlt makes Adam roll his eyes, which makes Keith grin. Adam can never stay mad at him for long.

“I know you will, brat.” He cups Keith’s cheeks identically to the way he did Hana’s, tipping over to kiss his forehead. Keith’s eyes close and his hands come up to grab Adam’s wrists. “I trust you. I just wish you would take better care of yourself.”

He pulls away and Keith lets him go, watching the easy way in which he composes himself, clearing his throat and straightening his jacket and pushing up his jacket, putting himself back together in front of Keith’s eyes. The process has fascinated him since he was little; the way Adam can always pull himself back to full height.

“Besides,” he adds, pulling his car keys out of his pocket and heading for the passenger side. “You have my daughter to look after, now. If she comes home to me in ten days complaining about doing the dishes because Uncle Keith just eats pasta out of the pot, I will fly back here just to smack you.”

Keith snorts. “Noted. Drive safe, Adam.”

He waves as he shuts the door and starts the car. Keith watches him go, then turns back towards his house, peering through the door, looking for a glimpse of the kid. He doesn’t see her, but he can hear the muted sounds of a video game from outside.

“I have no fucking clue what I’m doing,” he mutters to himself, and walks inside.

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