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viennakarma · 10 months

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Everything I Wanted II.

LESTAPPEN X READER (PART 2)

Summary: Your journey to become a Motorsport legend wasn't easy, especially when your path clashed with your greatest rivals, Max Verstappen and Charles Leclerc.

Word count: 8.9k

Tags: Driver reader, mentions of crash, angst, abusive parent, daddy issues, trust issues, character death (not reader), cursing, strong rivalry, misogyny in motorsport, invasive media, aggressive fans, reader suffers with cyberbullying and hate, smut, female reader, +18, unprotected sex, voyeurism, exhibtionism, edging, filthy, porn with plot, queer! everyone, polyamory lestappen, bit of dirty talking, pet names, not beta read

Relationships: Lestappen x Reader

Mentor!Kimi Raikkonen x Reader

Sebastian Vettel, Fernando Alonso, Lewis Hamilton x Platonic!Reader

Notes: this is full of motorsport categories inaccuracies, just go with the vibes please. There are a few inaccuracies regarding other drivers' lives, but they are just to fit the story. This chapter is very angsty and none of it is an attack at the drivers nor their fans and personalities, please.

I know I KNOW, this got out of hand, AGAIN. I promise next part (and hopefully last) is more focused on the romance, and the happy ending reader deserves.

Find me on Twitter!

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

You spent Christmas with your mom, sharing a lot of presents and watching a bunch of stupid Christmas movies. New Year’s was now a tradition to spend with the Raikkonen Family, joined with the closest friends for a little get together. It was a good opportunity to reconnect with Kimi’s kids who missed you a lot during the season.

Charles never contacted you during winter break, which you were sure was the best after that mistake. You hated each other too much and the only thing that could come out of that was toxicity from the both of you. You refused to even acknowledge what had happened and its implications, that wouldn’t and couldn’t mean anything.

During the pre-season testing in Bahrain, you and Charles were back to whatever your relationship was before that one lapse in judgment months before.

Nobody noticed anything.

One day, Fernando pulled you aside for a little chat. You two sat side by side on big moving boxes, sipping on energy drinks.

“There’s something I have been wanting to talk to you about since last year,” he started, seemingly pensive, distant.

“Is everything ok?”

“Yeah, yeah. Remember after we first met when you asked me if I had advice for you regarding your career?” Fernando said, and you remembered.

Right after you had gotten close, you asked him for advice, you always did, especially about racing. But one day, you were chatting about his career, and you asked if had any lessons you should never forget. He had laughed joking about read all your contracts then asking if you were calling him old, but he said if he ever had any advice, he would tell you.

“Yes, have you got my answer yet?”

“Sí, Nena,” he paused, looking deep into your eyes, “enjoy.”

You frowned and he saw the confusion on your face.

“I see much of my younger self in you, you know? The same passion, this fiery desire to win, your goal for the championship, to conquer the world…” Fernando paused, looking up to the clear sky, the sunset coming around, “And I did. But I wish I had enjoyed it more. I should’ve gone to parties, I should’ve visited the countries we went to and tried the food, I should’ve made more friends, I should’ve had more lovers… I was so focused on winning, on getting my hands on that trophy of champion of the world, that I missed out on a lot.”

You felt your eyes tear up, and you wiped it before the tears came down. Putting your hand on his shoulder, you smiled at him.

“It’s such an honor race with you. And an even greater honor to have you as a friend, Nano” you whispered to him, you two laughed as his eyes watered too, and slapping his shoulder you laughed, “don’t make me cry, you old softie!”

You took his advice to your heart.

You went to the parties, you met new people, and that’s how after two entire seasons, you managed to befriend Lando, your teammate. You two had to open your hearts a little bit and meet in the middle. Which proved to be great, the whole team loved the change in your dynamic. You still weren’t besties, but you were close colleagues, and that was great. Everyone noticed the change and it reflected on how you started racing as a team instead of individually.

The car was even better than the year before, and the first race of the season you got a promising win.

That win, Lando’s pestering, and Fernando’s advice was how you ended up in a party after the Bahrain GP. Wearing a skimpy mini dress and 5 tequila shots deep, swaying your hips to the sound of Rihanna. You were dancing and singing with Lando and a few of his friends, loudly screaming the lyrics.

When it was way too hot for you, you grabbed a water bottle and beelined your way out of the crowded dance floor. You found a corner of the VIP section where the AC seemed to be working better, and as you stumbled inside the small space, you ran chest first into someone.

“Sorry,” you said, taking a step back and pressing your back against the cold wall.

“Enjoying your win?” Your head snapped up as you recognised Max’s voice. You had run into him.

Lando had mentioned inviting Max to the party, he had gotten a P2 in the race but you doubted he would go to a party he knew you would attend. You were obviously wrong.

“You know I am,” the victory was so good that nothing could ruin your mood.

“Well, then enjoy it. I’m coming for the win, again.” He warned you but his voice was devoid of anything, just sounded like he was casually telling you about the weather. But you knew that he was implying his championship the year before, rubbing it in your face.

“Don’t be so confident, Max,” you finished your water, smirking at him, “Enjoy the view of my rear!”

You flipped your hair, feeling his eyes on you the whole walk back to the dance floor.

And yet-

Somehow-

You ended up back at that small corner, dancing with your body pressed between Verstappen’s and the wall, his hand holding your jaw firmly, you rolled your hips against him, feeling the way his body responded to yours.

“We can’t-” he said to you, still, his eyes hadn’t left your lips, like he was so oh so tempted.

You rolled your eyes, annoyed. Sober you would never do that, but then, that was a problem for later. Checking to see if anyone was looking at you, you hooked a finger around his waistband and pulled him towards the bathroom.

As soon as the two of you were inside, you locked the door and Max pressed your back against the door, latching his lips to yours in a very desperate open mouthed kiss. You hugged his shoulders, opening your lips to him, his hands went down your sides and he grabbed your ass, pulling you into him. But that wasn’t enough, so he held your thighs and pulled up, carrying you. You locked your legs around his waist, and he stopped the kiss to walk, sitting you on the marble side of the sink, still between your legs, forcing his bulge against your panties, and eliciting a moan from you.

He took a half step back to hike your dress up, palming your cunt over your panties feeling the dampness of it, he tried to press his hand under your panties, but the lacy fabric didn’t leave much space, so he simply tore the bottom of them, exposing you to him. He just ran a finger over your slit, collecting your wetness for a brief moment before pushing a finger into you. Max watched your face with concentration, studying your body’s responses. Your hips shaking at the movement of his finger, and when the second one joined, you got louder. He curled his fingers up, his thumb pressing your clit, and you had to use both hands to hold onto him, your head lolling back against the mirror.

“Take it and shut the fuck up,” he grunted between clenched teeth.

He was pressing your insides so good, the slick sound of his fingers going in and out, his heavy breathing, the loud music outside and his laser focused fingers had you coming against his fingers in minutes. When he noticed you close, cunt spasming against his fingers, he pressed the other hand against your mouth, covering your moans when your toes curled and you orgasmed on his hand.

Max barely let you recover as he opened his jeans and stroked himself twice before pushing his cock into you in one swift move, making you gasp at the sudden intrusion.

“That’s what you wanted, right? Fucking teasing me all night,” He pushed particularly hard, hitting your g-spot, making you see stars, “you’re a fucking menace, y’know that? Fucking insufferable,” then his words became a mumbling of something dutch you couldn’t quite catch anymore with the way his hips snapped against yours, taking all your focus away and turning you into a mess of moaning.

Max fucked like he raced, focused and relentless, brutal. He hugged you with one arm around your waist to keep you in place and the other held you face, tilting your head so he could kiss you, or whatever that mess of saliva, tongues and teeth was. Your orgasm crashed through you unexpectedly, and you only hugged him tighter, pressing your face against his chest, biting into his skin through the fabric of his T-shirt to silence yourself, your teeth sinking into him was enough to send him also over the edge, coming with moans against your ear.

That night, you went home with shaking legs and an incoming headache, as Max left with the scraps of your panties in his pocket and your lipstick stain on his shirt, above his chest.

It was the seventh race of the year, Monaco, and you absolutely hated that specific track since your years of F2. During your two first years in F1 you had awful experiences, the rookie year you DNF and the year prior you had barely managed a P7. You were trying to keep your head up, be hopeful that you could at least try for top 5.

But since you couldn’t catch a fucking break, an old video of your teenage years resurfaced.

You were walking to your first round of interviews when Amanda, your PR manager, started walking by your side.

“There’s something. An old video of a karting competition resurfaced, where Max and Charles pretty much call you stupid,” Amanda was always direct, you could give it to her.

“Let me see the video” you asked, offering your hand for her phone.

“We don’t have time, but everyone will ask you about it. I need you to be the bigger person and act like it isn’t important, yes? They will try to taunt you and get a bad reaction from you, I need you to dismiss everything they throw at you. Agreed?”

You sighed. You knew the stuff from your teens were pretty bad, you rarely badmouthed Max or Charles, but they always felt threatened by you, so there were lots of instances they attacked you. Honestly, you just didn’t want to come out of this victimized. So as you entered the first round of interviews, you decided you were going to downplay anything they asked you.

“Y/N, have you seen the footage of you, Max and Charles from your teenage years that resurfaced recently?”

“No, uh, I haven’t.”

Someone pushed an iPad in your hands because of course, they wanted a live reaction from you. You pressed play, reading the subtitles someone put on the video. It was an amateur recording like a post race interview made by another teenage guy. First as Max walked out of the track, the guy asked what he thought of your win.

“It was luck, she’s not bright enough to think of a strategy,” Max said, walking away, clearly pissed having lost to you.

There was a cut and the camera was turned on again when Charles walked toward the guy asking the question. He repeated exactly the same question he had asked Max.

“Y/N, I don’t worry about her long term. She’s not going very far in this sport anyway,” Charles shrugged, seemingly unbothered.

As the video cut again, it showed your face, you remembered when that was. You were 14, and your dad had dropped you a few months earlier, so you were working your ass off balancing school, work and karting.

“Hey, Y/N. What do you think of your result today?”

“Uh, I tried a new strategy I learned earlier this week, thankfully it worked in my favor,” teen-You dried your forehead with your coat’s sleeve.

“What are your plans for this competition?”

“Well, I hope to be good enough to get into F4 next year, and work my way up into Formula 1,” you smiled softly and walked away after a quick bye.

The video ended and you still spent a few seconds staring at the black screen of the iPad. This interview didn’t come to your mind in more than a decade, but it was nice seeing how you made your 14-year-old dream come true.

“So, what do you say?” The reporter extended his mic to you.

“I guess I proved them wrong, right?” You giggled a little, “don’t take it to heart, really. We were all hormonal teenagers, I’m sure if someone digs, they will find a video of me saying the same stuff about them,” you shrugged, despite that being a lie, sounded dismissive enough.

“So it doesn’t upset you?” The reporter insisted, and you knew he wanted a scandal you weren’t willing to give.

“Of course not. I’ve always known my worth, and I’m P1 in the driver’s championship as of right now. So I don’t really care.”

The interviewers soon let the video go, when they realized you didn’t care about it. You weren’t sure if anyone would also approach Charles or Max with questions about the same video, but you couldn’t care less, you wanted to avoid drama for the time being so you could focus on the championship instead of this bullshit.

On the morning of qualifying, you were in your room, trying to meditate and clear your mind, when a knock interrupted you.

“Guys, I asked for twenty minutes so I could-” you stop yourself when you realize it isn’t anyone from your team, but it’s Max and Charles, “what are you doing here?”

“We came to apologize about the video,” Max started.

“Did your PR teams send you here?” You looked around, trying to catch a camera or even a phone recording.

“No uh, we realized we were very immature with you, and this video is just proof of how silly that was,” Charles sighed, seemingly embarrassed.

“You don’t need to apologize, I mean- the two of you really had it out for me, you called me dumb a lot,” you pointed to Max, then Charles, “and you called me ugly countless times. I don’t know why it would make any difference now.”

You were just so used to being defensive, to protect yourself from hatred you found it hard to believe them, to give them a chance to apologize because you couldn’t believe it to be genuine.

“Even if you don’t take it, or believe it, I would like to apologize for that behavior. I was just a stupid kid.” Max looked deep into your eyes, which could’ve made you uncomfortable if he didn’t seem so honest.

“I’m really sorry, Y/N. It was too idiotic to be like that to you, growing up. You were just a kid too.” Charles added.

You understood where that apology came from, it was stupid and embarrassing for all three of you this teenage rivalry when you all were barely mid racers back in the day. Sighing, you looked around, dropping your façade for a second, allowing yourself to display the same honesty they showed you.

It was hard and required some sort of deprogramming because you could only see them as rivals, like your dad had whispered in your brain so many times before, like their actions towards you had cemented dad’s words. They had said things that were on your mind for so long, that had made you defensive and deflective.

“Look, don’t worry about it. Whatever happened back then, it’s water under the bridge,” You shifted on your feet. As they started walking away, you added “this doesn’t mean we’re friends.”

They only nodded before leaving. Your routine went back to the same, and as the next scandal went on, people forgot about the silly video, but a very specific part of the fans started shipping you and both your rivals.

The rivalry never died down though.

Then, out of nowhere, Sebastian pulled you and Lewis aside to a conversation. Then he told you that he was going to retire by the end of the season. It was the first time the two of them saw you cry, and Sebastian hugged you tight, shushing your crying softly.

“I’m so sorry, I’m sorry,” he whispered, petting your head.

“No, don’t apologize,” you let him go, drying your face, “I have listened to you talking countless times about how you missed the kids. Don’t apologize for choosing to be a great dad. I know Hanna and the kiddos will be ecstatic.”

“You two are my closest friends here, that’s why I wanted to tell you first, before my announcement.”

“Thank you, Seb,” you said, eyes still watering, “I’m going to miss having you around.”

“Thank you for telling us beforehand,” Lewis said, also visibly emotional.

The season was writing itself to be just as close as the year prior, but now you were slightly better at keeping the lead most.

That is until Zandvoort. This GP was always a nightmare to you, because it was full of Max’s fans, and they absolutely hated you for being his rival. You had been booed when you were on the podium the year before, so now, you and Amanda decided it was best to keep your head down during the whole week. Not out of shame, but more of a matter of safety, you didn’t know how far the crowd could go in antagonizing you. When you were booed the other year, Max had said it was part of the sport and dismissed the conversation.

The morning of free practice, you went into the paddock very low-key and kept to yourself. You arrived with a little cup of coffee and got mentally ready for a hostile environment the whole weekend. That, until you spotted a small group of people dressed with your color and wearing your number, waving wildly to you.

In a spur of the moment decision, you went there, getting close to the barrier to sign a few caps and take a few selfies. In retrospect, you knew you shouldn’t have done that, especially with only two bodyguards accompanying you.

You were finishing chatting with your fans when you felt something heavy hit the side of your head and the impact made you stumble backwards, you were confused as you heard the screams and felt one of the bodyguards pull you back, as the other jumped the barrier and started running. You patted your temple and something wet and sticky was dripping down the side of your face. You stared at the small group of fans who were looking at you horrified. Staring at the hand, you saw the red staining your fingers, and as the bodyguard kept pulling you away to somewhere safer, the thing flowed even more and got into your left eye.

You wondered if it was blood as you touched your temple but felt nothing, not a gash nor small cut. You covered your left eye as it started to sting from what you supposed smelt like paint.

“Hey, hey, what happened? You’re bleeding!” Max jogged up to you.

“Not blood, just paint” you muttered, trying to use your coat to clean your face.

“Someone threw a paint ball at her,” the bodyguard said.

“Fuck, it’s burning!” You exclaimed, feeling tears in your left eye.

“Come here, the RB hospitality is close,” Max said, holding your wrist, he stopped shortly pointing to your bodyguard, “and you, sort this and find the person who did it.”

You let yourself be taken by Max into the RB territory, the burning so annoying that you rather take whatever solution he was thinking of. He held your waist and placed you sitting on a sink, and then you felt water streaming down your face.

“Stay still,” Max commanded, holding a hose over your head, pouring water down your face, “now blink slowly, let the water wash it,” his voice soft as you did what he told you to. Slowly but surely, it washed the paint away, relieving your left eye from the stinging. Max held the hose up and held your chin, tilting your head up so he could check your eye, still letting the water stream down your face.

You took a few minutes, breathing and regulating your heartbeat from that scare, trying to come back to normal and understand fully what was going on. From what you gathered, you were chatting with fans when someone else came and threw something with paint at you.

“How does it feel?”

“It’s better, already stopped burning,” you told him, feeling your heart miss a beat at the close proximity you found yourself to him. You were sitting on a sink, Max standing between your legs pretty much like you two had done months before for entirely different reasons.

“Open your eye, let me see,” he asked, and you tried to blink it open, “can you see?”

“It’s a little blurry but I believe it will get better,” you explained, and he didn’t let go of your chin. Suddenly, he covered your right eye with the other hand, leaving you only with your left eye sight.

“How many fingers am I putting up?” He showed it to your left eye. The vision was a bit blurry but you still could make out the shapes very clearly.

“Four, Max. It’s just a little bit blurry, probably will get better in a few minutes” you sounded annoyed, you tried to move but he pressed a hand against your waist, keeping you in place.

“Now, what happened?” He asked finally. You ignored the proximity, and the hand still on your body.

“We’re in Zandvoort, that’s what happened,” you shrugged, really annoyed about it.

“What do you mean?” He was visibly confused. You scoffed because you knew it wasn’t something he didn’t know, since the year before he has dismissed the importance of how hostile people were to you.

“We’re massively surrounded by your fans, Max.”

“I don’t understand.”

“They hate me because you hate me, and they think because you hate me they’re justified in their hostility towards me,” You explained, with a sigh, you pushed away from Max, “this GP has been like this for me ever since Rookie year.”

“I don’t hate you,” he said, brows furrowed.

“You do. And they do too,” you pointed down at the paint that had also stained your shirt as proof.

“I don’t,” he insisted and you rolled your eyes, jumping off the sink, but he didn’t give you space, which made you stand chest to chest with him, “I promise.”

You stared at him, breathless. That wasn’t part of the game you played, being kind, sounding worried and making promises. None of that was part of this whole rivalry. Pushing his chest, you tried getting away but he caged you against the sink, body flush against yours.

“Do you believe me?” He asked and your eyes fell to his lips, and you allowed yourself to remember the desperate and chaotic kisses you had shared in a dimly lit bathroom, “I don’t support any of this behavior.”

You heard voices and steps approaching, which made you finally push him away, walking towards the door. Whatever little magic had been happening between those walls was undone the moment you remembered none of that would’ve happened if he had politely put a stop to it earlier.

“It’s part of the sport and I have to deal with it, right?” You returned the very same words he had said about you when you were booed by the crowd the year prior.

As you opened the door, you were faced with Sebastian. He stopped, taking you in and then pulling you in a hug.

“Are you ok? We just heard what happened!” He murmured, guiding you out of the bathroom. He held your shoulders and looked at your face, checking how your left eye was still a little red, “we should take you to see a doctor, come on.”

Lewis soon arrived at the entrance of the RBR station, he warned about the reporters crowding outside, waiting for a glimpse of you after the attack. The British man gave you a Mercedes coat so you put it over your head and avoid the cameras waiting outside. With the bodyguards and both Lewis and Sebastian leading you away, you ended up at the medical center, and after a quick examination, the doctor gave you eye drops to put throughout the day.

Your Principal suggested you sit the FP1 out, letting the reserve driver take your place while you recovered. By the middle of FP1, your eyesight was 100% and you went to get ready for FP2. The whole day you felt like everyone was being extra careful, tiptoeing around you. You hated feeling like you were being pitied, so when the inevitable round of interviews came, you knew what you had to do.

“We heard about your incident earlier today, how are you feeling about it?” Someone asked.

“I’m pretty upset, to be honest. Formula 1 is a sport loved around the whole world, and the paddock overall is supposed to be a safe place not only for the fans, but also the workers and drivers. What happened today is unacceptable and could’ve been much worse. I’m voicing my dissatisfaction and I intend to, through legal means, take this complaint to the FIA.”

Later that night, as you laid awake on your bed, scrolling through the repercussions of the day, you stopped when you saw a snippet of Max's interview.

“What happened today was dangerous and unacceptable, I don’t support this behavior and I stand with Y/N,” that was all he said, but Max usually was a man of few words, always knowing when it was enough.

You knew he should’ve voiced that much earlier in your career, specifically after the booing the year before, but still- He also could have opted to not say anything at all, and he didn’t.

Amanda also sent you the news that the fan who had attacked you was found and banned for life from Formula 1.

After calling Sebastian, you managed to get ahold of Max’s phone number and texted him a simple message.

Thank you. Twice. - Lioness

The text went to read almost immediately, and the three dots appeared from his side of the screen. You wait, and wait, and wait. And then the dots disappeared, and an answer never came.

After a solid P2 that weekend in Zandvoort, you went home for the summer break. You and your mom had planned to go to Monaco for a little while since you were planning on buying a place there. From there, you and your mom would go all around the French Riviera to enjoy the sea and spend a few days in a spa resort. Then, you would go back home and relax before going to Ibiza for a weekend to meet Lando and his friends to enjoy some partying.

Everything went according to plan, but one day when you came back home after the trip to the French Riviera, you found your mom passed out on the living room floor.

You called an ambulance, quickly taking her into the hospital. Everything was a blur, the tests and scans, your mom still unconscious on a hospital bed, and the results. The results that pulled the floor from under your feet.

Your brain couldn’t fully compute what was said. Cancer Stage 4. Surgery. Palliative care.

The world was muted around you as you sat on a chair in the waiting room, hands shaking when you tried to understand what was happening. You somehow ended up calling the one other person you trust.

“Y/N? What happened?”

“I don’t understand- she just- she just passed out and I thought- but- but they said- palliative care” you try to come up with words.

“Talk to me. Are you sick?” Kimi’s voice is so focused and a little soothing.

“It’s mom”

“Send your location, I’m going there,” that’s all he said.

Waiting for Kimi gave you some sense of purpose, because it’s Kimi. He could fix anything. He fixed your life when you were 14, he can do it again. He would get there and find a way to help. Your mind got so clouded when the word cancer was thrown in the conversation, that you probably missed the part about treatments and- and surgery and stuff.

In your mother’s room there was a comfortable couch where you tried to settle to sleep, but you only spent countless hours awake. You hoped to see the doctor again to try and get him to explain everything for a second time.

You wished you were smart and quick, but no, you just sat there holding onto the hope that Kimi had a way to fix this.

Kimi arrived early the next morning, knocking on the door before entering. You stood up, hugging him tight.

“What happened?”

“It’s pancreatic cancer, they said. We need to see more about surgery and- and treatments.”

You and Kimi found the doctor, who explained again, and in that moment you finally understood what he meant the first time around. She was in a late stage of pancreatic cancer, which was usually a very difficult illness to find before it is too late, due to the placement of the organ in the body and late symptoms. The only options were either to try a very risky surgery and chemo so she could extend her life for around 8 months to a year. Or she could go home to live her last few months the way she wanted.

You begged and cried and bribed and offered every single solution your brain could muster to try and save her. Kimi held you when you fell to the floor, sobbing.

When your mom woke up and you and Kimi told her the diagnosis, she cried too, sobbing in your arms as you tried to hold it together for her sake. It took a couple of days for her to choose to go home. The two of you spent the last days of summer break traveling around the world a bit more, visiting temples and statues, and seeing nature and everything good the world had to offer, going to places motorsport hadn’t taken you to.

Your mom went to every race week from there on, even when she felt especially weak, even when you had to hire a full time medical team for her.

Your focus on the season was solely on the moment between entering the car and leaving the car. You still managed to race like you’ve done before, calm and controlled, with the help of your engineers and team, you still could put the car where you wanted it, paving your way for a solid world championship that year. It was like your brain was seeing racing as the one thing in your life you had full control over, so sometimes you even felt like you and the car were one.

You didn’t tell anyone about her. Though every driver noticed how distant you were, even Charles and Max and the ones that weren’t very close to you noticed how you were only fulfilling your obligations and leaving, you weren’t even celebrating your wins, leaving the fastest you could after a race.

The Singapore GP was tough for you, having to leave your mom home alone with the medical staff and a couple of friends from her book club, since she wasn’t strong enough to travel anymore. Your attention was failing all throughout media day and free practices. Qualifying was shit compared to your performance the rest of the season.

In Q3 you did a reasonable sector 1 and 2 but you messed up sector 3 completely. It was a complete accident when you got in the way of a Ferrari when he was doing his fast lap, and you ended up messing his qualy too. Jace let you know it was none other than Charles Leclerc, who was setting the pace for a pole position. Out of 19 drivers, you had to ruin his lap. In the end, Max got pole, Charles qualified P3 and you qualified P5.

You went through the motions during the post qualifying press. You were about to leave after debriefing, when Charles Leclerc found you on the way to the parking lot. You pulled your coat tighter around yourself protectively as he walked up to you. You were hoping to escape his fury at least until after the race the next day. Before he could even get a word in, you started.

“Look, I know I messed up your pole. I know you won’t believe me, but it wasn’t intentional. I really thought there was no one doing fast laps on the track, I thought everyone was either still doing out laps or in the pits, so when you-”

“Calm down, breathe,” he interrupted you, “I’m not here to fight.”

“No?” You frowned, confused with the kindness in his eyes.

“We know you’re going through something, and I’m sure I’m the last person you want to hear this from, but you’re not alone. And you should really consider talking with someone on the grid. They’re all- we’re all worried about you.”

The words felt alien coming from his mouth, but the gentleness was so comforting you felt a lump in your throat.

“Why do you think I’m not ok?” You muttered trying to sound confident, but your voice failed, betraying you.

“You’re skinny and you look sleep deprived for a few weeks now,” Charles said directly.

“Damn, thanks.”

“I don’t mean it like that, you know it,” he paused, putting both hands on his pockets, “have you been eating?” Your lack of response made him press further, “have you eaten today?”

You pressed your lips together, not wanting to answer that.

“Let’s go, I’ll drive you to the hotel, we’ll stop on the way to grab some food,” Charles gestured to his car, a few meters away. You stood there, shocked as he started walking away, then he stopped looking over his shoulder, “come on, I don’t have all the time in the world.”

As you sat in his Ferrari, Charles put music on and you didn’t do much talking, but it was tranquil. He called the restaurant to order take out on the way, and 30 minutes later he dropped you off at the hotel with a bag full of food.

“Thank you, Charles.” You whispered before leaving the car.

You ate the food while on a video call with your mom.

You recovered well during the race, finishing P2, behind Max and ahead of Charles.

Your mom passed away a few days after the Japanese Grand Prix, the one you had won and dedicated it to her from the top step of the podium, even if she wasn’t there, just watching from home. You went home and stayed with her, holding her hands and hugging her as much as you could.

Some part of you knew she was somehow fighting, because she had promised you the year before she would be there when you became world champion. You could see she was hoping to make it to the end of the season, but you also knew she wouldn’t, and you rather she didn’t have to endure any more pain just for your sake.

“You don’t need to fight anymore, ma,” you whispered before she went to sleep, “you raised a strong woman, too. I will see you on the other side, ok? You can rest now, I love you.”

“I’m so proud of you, honey. I love you to the moon and back.”

You made it through her small funeral, following what she had written down before passing. An intimate funeral, full of flowers and a toast to her life. You cried the whole time, with Kimi and Minttu taking turns at comforting you as they could. Coming back to an empty home smelling of cleaning products made you almost lose your mind, and the sight of you in such despair was enough for Kimi to convince you to stay with them until you had to travel for the next race, in almost seven days.

The days passed in a crying blur, you let part of your team know about your mom’s passing. Only Amanda, Jace and your Principal. Jace tried to convince you to take a break and not go to the next race in Austin, but you quickly shut it off. Not only because racing was the one thing keeping you sane amidst the chaos, but because you were so close to the championship, and it was still close competition with Max and Charles, so you couldn’t afford to lose a race and the points that could come with it.

You had to honor your mom in some way.

That’s how you ended up on a plane to Austin with Kimi and Amanda. You knew Kimi had convinced you to let him go because he was sure you’d have a mental breakdown anytime along the weekend, but deep down you appreciated the company. Arriving there, Jace was the first to hug you and whisper his condolences, as well as your TP too.

You survived the entire weekend without breaking down crying in public, but that was your worst race in a few months, the first time out of a podium since Spa. You ended up P5, which luckily wasn’t too bad because Max finished P4 which you were grateful for as he was the one who was P2 in the driver’s championship close behind you.

After that week, you packed your stuff and moved to the new condo in Monaco you had bought during summer break. Despite loving your mom to pieces, you couldn’t manage to live alone in the house you bought for her a couple of years before, it was lonely and it hit you with overwhelming waves of sadness all the time. You distracted yourself a lot with buying furniture and decorations for the new place, and discovering Monte Carlo in a whole new way. The one comfort in all that, was knowing your mom wasn’t suffering anymore.

Then you went straight to Mexico for the next Grand Prix, this time, Kimi left you because he had to come home to Minttu and the kids. Amanda had been such a support for you, that you knew you had to give her something special for the holidays, out of gratitude.

Everything was going as expected until the press conference. You were there with Charles, Max, Sebastian and Lando. You suspected they were putting you always in the same group as Max and Charles because, as the season nearing the end, only three races left, they were your close competition.

While someone asked something of Charles, you were whispering with Sebastian, chatting about Mexican foods you wanted to try after the race. Then, something bizarre happened, and phones started to ping all around the room, between reporters, cameras and everyone else started checking their phones. It seemed like something out of a black mirror nightmare.

You reached for your phone but then remembered you left it to charge in your room.

“This question is for Y/N,” a reporter asked, reading something from his phone, “there’s a new article that just came out saying your mom passed away a couple of weeks ago, is that true?”

Your blood ran cold, and every sound felt like it was muted inside the room. Wide eyed, you searched for Amanda, who was somewhere on the opposite side of the room, and when you found her, she was pale. Then, there was a cacophony of voices and cameras and questions, that made you suddenly overwhelmed.

Swallowing, trying to reassess, you found Sebastian already standing, holding your shoulders. Looking around you noticed how the other three drivers had stood up, making some sort of shield around you, protecting you from the cameras and reporters swarming around.

“We can go, ok? Come on,” Sebastian was saying when Amanda caught up to you, leaning beside Sebastian.

“We can leave, right now,” she said, holding your hand.

Still a little confused, you nodded and let them both guide you back to your room.

“I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry for your loss,” Sebastian hugged you, running his hands on your back for comfort.

“How- how did they find out?” You ask Amanda.

“An article came out, I’m not sure. Someone was probably digging into your life, but don’t worry, I put the team on it already.”

“How do- how we diffuse this? How do we proceed? We need to address this, right?” You started blabbering, trying to wrap your head around everything.

“That was very disrespectful of them to ask like that!” Sebastian exclaimed, making you two jolt.

“We’ll do whatever you’re comfortable with. Do you want me to release a note asking for privacy?” Amanda suggested.

“Can I write something and then run it by you?” You asked, she only nodded.

After a moment, both Amanda and Seb left you alone as you typed a note on your phone. You rewrote and deleted a few times before settling on something heartfelt and respectful but also, calling out the invasion of privacy.

My mom passed away a few days ago after battling with cancer for the past few months.

She had requested of me to keep it a secret until after the season was over, so I could mourn her without the weight of racing over my shoulders.

But obviously someone went digging and disrespected not only one of her last wishes but also disrespected my grief and my right to privacy. I love my mom but I’ll not be answering any more questions about her illness or death, please respect me and respect her memory.

All the love, Y/N

Nobody asked anything over the weekend, but again, it felt like everyone was tiptoeing around you. As soon as you first saw Nano the next day, he held you tight for almost a minute whispering his condolences, and it made you almost cry again. Lewis also spared you a hug, saying if you ever needed anything, to contact him.

You survived that weekend, and decided to go straight to Brazil for the next GP instead of going back to Monaco. In São Paulo you mostly slept your worries and fears away. You had promised yourself to try and focus on the season only, to make your dream come true, to fulfill your mom’s promise in some way.

With Ferrari’s bad strategy in Mexico, they had ruined Charles’ chance at the championship. Now your only competition was Max and the Red Bull rocketship.

You rewatched the race a couple of times as you usually did, to try and catch any mistakes you or your team may have made, to fix it for the next one. But also to try and notice any weaknesses of your rivals, if it was something you could use in your own favor.

You noticed right away in the FP1 that your car wasn’t adhering to the track, you were losing balance and needed more force than usual to keep yourself in place. By FP2, you managed to control your car better, but that caused your tyres to wear off way more quickly.

Quali was one of the shittiest you’ve ever done in your career, taking you out in Q2 for the first time that year, placing you for a start at P12.

“Listen, we’ll do better tomorrow, ok?” Jace told you as soon as you entered the garage, seeing Max still out with a shot at pole position.

“Give me a few minutes to unwind, please,” you asked, dropping your helmet, balaclava and gloves at a nearby table.

You went straight to your room, searching for your phone. Immediately calling Kimi, you waited for him to pick up.

“I watched it,” he said first and foremost.

“If I do bad in the race tomorrow, and Max does well, then I’m gonna lose the championship, Kimi,” saying that out loud made you shiver in horror, “FUCK!” You screamed, kicking a chair.

“First of all, even if you did bad tomorrow, you’d still have a chance to fight for the championship in Abu Dhabi. You know that,” Kimi warned you as if he was scolding a little kid, “second of all, I never taught you this loser mindset. You’ll have to find a way to work around the problems in your car tomorrow.”

“Shit, I’m so fucked! How? How could I even-”

“Remember when I first met you? Your kart was with almost this same problem, yeah? Remember you got P2? You went ahead and fixed it. That’s what I need you to do tomorrow, don’t focus on what you can’t do, only focus on what you can do.”

“I’ll try my best.”

“No trying. Do it.”

After spending the entire night crafting plan A, B, C and Z with you strategists and engineers, you barely got any sleep, but you forced yourself to rest. In the morning, you went to the track early to meet with your team again, to run your strategies one more time, when you had an idea. You’d still follow the plans you had carefully crafted with the team, but you decided to make a Plan Star, as you had called. Interlagos didn’t have any safety car in the last two years, so it was dangerous to fully count on one. But your plan star consisted in the case of a safety car in this one specific window of laps, you’d go to the pits for hards, counting on everyone else being on old softs or mediums at that specific point in the race. But for it to work, you had to be the first of the front field to go in.

As the lights went out and you accelerated, you got already three positions up, landing in P9, and luckily, the points zone. Jace was worried in your ears, talking about the car and the tyres management. With controlled calm and Kimi’s voice in your head, you managed a few more positions in the first 14 laps, landing P7. You lost a bit of time there, since Nando was P6 and everyone knew how tough it always is to overtake him. But you eventually managed to get the position. Unfortunately, it was the moment you had to go to your first pitstop. Due to the problems in your car wearing off your tyres, you would have to go for a two-stop, which ended up costing you three positions again. But you were patient and you were rewarded when the other cars had to pit, which gave you back the four places you had lost.

The race you went on and you barely moved up or down from your P5, but you managed to concentrate.

Jace, on the other hand was sounding more and more worried about your second pit stop, about the difficulty in get closer to P4, about the P6 trying to enter DRS zone behind you, with your tyres wearing off, with the-

“Jace, I love you but please shut the fuck up, I know what to do,” you were praying for a miracle when suddenly, there was a yellow flag, and the safety car went out during the perfect window of laps, “fuck, Jace, this is plan star.”

“Copy,” he paused, his voice sounding secure, “Box, box.”

You changed into hards, no one else went to the pits, and the race restarted after three more laps. The safety car had closed the gap between you and the P4, which made you overtake him easily.

Jace was still keeping quiet to help your concentration, he only interrupted to warn you about overheating your tyres, and your velocity per lap compared to the next position. You started overtaking like a madwoman as much as your tyres allowed.

“That’s P1, Lioness,” Jace told you.

“Copy that.” You said with your voice shaken.

As you managed your P1, you went back to be aware of your surroundings, seeing a Red Bull right behind you, trying to overtake but you managed to hold position.

When you took the checkered flag, you sighed with relief, Kimi was right.

“Congratulations, Y/N! That’s a brilliant, brilliant win!” Jace’s voice was sounding shaken too.

“You’re crying, Jace?” You laughed softly.

“It’s an honor to tell you that you, Y/N Y/L/N, are a Formula 1 world champion!” Jace shouts, and behind him you can hear more people screaming.

“What? Jace you’re fucking with me!”

“No, Lioness, you’re the 2022 champion of the world!”

“But- but how? There’s one race left? And Max was right behind me!”

“No, Verstappen DNFed during that one yellow flag. Behind you was Perez.”

You made the calculations quickly in your head. Max was P2 in the championship, but this DNF meant no points, and even if he managed to win the last race in Abu Dhabi, he wouldn’t be able to equal you in points. So-

“OH MY GOD, oh my god!” You screamed your lungs out, feeling the tears streaming down into your balaclava, “Fuck yes! I’m Formula 1 World Champion! Thank you, thank you so much guys! Jace, holy shit, I’m the champion!”

“You’re the champion!” Jace confirmed.

You felt joy in a way you hadn’t felt in a long, long time, as you stopped your car on the number one spot. Still a little dizzy from the thrill, you left the car, going straight to your team, heavily waiting for you. They all hugged you, hitting your helmet, saying congratulations and everything. You took a moment to hug Jace and Amanda, who had been of great support throughout the year.

After getting weighted and being congratulated by the other two on the podium, Perez and Hamilton, the latter hugging you tight as he took you off the floor, you drank water as you waited for the post race interview with Nico Rosberg.

You were giddy, barely holding yourself together with how happy you were feeling, how you wanted to hold the trophy, how grateful you were and more importantly, how you felt a great weight being lifted off your shoulders.

“Y/N, congratulations on becoming a World Champion! I have to say, as a girl dad, it is great to see you become the first woman ever to win this title. How do you feel? What do you want to say?” Nico offered, with a kind smile.

“To be honest, I can barely contain myself. It’s such an honor to be here and be the world champion. I look at the past and see my younger self who never thought would make it to Formula 1. It’s such a dream come true, after this year’s hardships, I’m glad to achieve the greatest dream of them all!” You said, kinda quickly, rambling as you tried to put into words all the emotions mixed with the happiness, “I’m sorry, I know I’m taking up all your time, I just want to dedicated this win, and this championship to three people who saved my life: Kimi, thank you for being the salvation of my career when we first met; And my mom, who’s not here anymore, thank you for being the light in my darkest days. And lastly, I want to thank myself for working my ass off and never giving up.”

You muttered a thank you as Nico only laughed at your rambling. Before you moved to the cooldown, you grabbed the mic back again.

“May I add one last thing?” You asked for Nico, who only nodded, pointing to the camera again, “This is to my father: I made it, you asshole.”

You wanted to send the middle finger too, but you knew you couldn’t because of the FIA’s guidelines, and you were already risking a penalty for cursing on live TV. In the cooldown room, you sat beside Lewis, watching a few highlights of the race on the screen. It showed a couple of your overtakes.

“Damn, you overtook like crazy,” Lewis muttered, seemingly amazed.

“I pulled a Lewis Hamilton in Interlagos last year,” you joked, and he laughed.

That podium felt like the culmination of everything you had worked for your whole life, felt like recovering your love for the sport for what it was, for the fast cars and the adrenaline. Being on that podium in Brazil as a World Champion shifted something inside you forever. During your anthem, you laughed, and when you got the trophy, you cried, pointing the trophy to the sunny sky with a silent prayer to your mom. You barely noticed, but you felt the champagne raining on you, and opened your arms to shower in it. Putting the trophy down, you splashed the other bottle, laughing and wetting everyone that was close to you, Lewis, Checo, Jace, who had gone up representing the team.

When the celebration ended, you stayed behind a little more, watching the crowd from the podium, and they started chanting. It took you a few seconds to realize they were chanting your name.

You raised your trophy at them, and they cheered even louder. Then you pointed it to the sky again.

“Look, ma, I made it” you whispered to yourself, feeling the tears streaming down your face.

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borninwinter81 · 6 months

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Queer horror from my teens

I periodically wonder whether these books are still known and read by young goths and horror fans as they were all extremely important to me in my teenage years, so I thought I'd share them.

Though I'm cishet, during the mid 90s two of my favourite authors wrote primarily queer fiction: they were Anne Rice and another author from New Orleans who is now known as Billy Martin.

He came out as a trans man in 2011, however these books were published prior to that so unfortunately you have to search for them under his deadname. This is why I've used that name in the tags on this post. I don't believe the books were ever reprinted with his current name.

Though I loved Rice, I always felt a more immediate connection with Martin due to his vivid portrayal of subcultures like goth and punk, and how it felt to be a teenager who was part of them. I could see myself in many of his characters as I had the same interests, listened to the same music, and shared the same sense of social alienation. Remember in the 90s the Internet was still a reasonably new thing, and many of us didn't have a home Internet connection at all. There was certainly no social media, no YouTube, and no real way to meet and interact with like-minded teens unless you were lucky enough to have another "weird kid" at your school. If you were a weird kid, you likely had very few friends and were bullied.

That as much as anything else led me to seek solace in books written by an author who I felt understood me, and characters who became my friends.

Lost Souls is about vampires in a kind of Lost Boys/Near Dark way. Fans of the YouTuber OfHerbsAndAltars might be interested to know that this book is where the name of his channel comes from - it's a description of the taste of Chartreuse liqueur.

Drawing Blood is about ghosts, a "murder house", computer hacking, comic art and a very beautiful (if rather messed up) romance. This one is probably my favourite of the three.

Exquisite Corpse is about serial killers, set against the AIDS crisis of the 90s. If you like the Hannibal TV series you'll probably enjoy this one - imagine if Dennis Nilsen and Jeffrey Dahmer had somehow met.

Martin doesn't pull any punches when it comes to descriptions of blood and gore, violence, abusive parents or his portrayal of toxic romantic relationships (of which there are many in his books), but if you can deal with those things there is also a great deal of beauty, phenomenally good writing, and a somewhat unique perspective on the supernatural.

Maybe I'm biased, looking at these through the lens of my teenage self. Maybe they'd seem horribly dated to today's young audience. But I still wanted to make this post in case there's someone out there who will end up loving them as much as I did.

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randombush3 · 5 months

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a sense of coming home

ona batlle x reader

summary: part two of this! ona and you are (frustratingly) still just friends

words: 6.5k (i have NO idea why i waffle so much but lets pls allow it)

warnings: there's like five secs of smut at the end

notes: this has been the most self-indulgent fic i've written because this is how i met my gf and so i am glad to show you a nice happy ending

again, the quote is from 'this side of paradise' (said gf's fav book - i don't recommend however because the protagonist is a twat)

also i didn't proofread bc i am exhausted and i am hungover and i am very ready to go to sleep (#globetrotting is not for the weak) x

There is something difficult about forcing oneself back to their toxic roots. Ona discovers as such as she presses her body into a temple of meaningless sex, but she does so because she is a driven person. Ona is determined to get over you, once and for all, except she’d quite like to stay friends (hence why she agreed when asked). She also thinks it would expose her to fall out because her feelings shouldn’t have existed anyway, so she technically shouldn’t be heartbroken?

Anyway, Ona rampages through Manchester! They appreciate her accent – some even ask her to speak to them in Spanish when she is three fingers deep inside of them, to which she obliges with little fanfare – and it isn’t like the city lacks queer women. It is a super solid way to keep her busy, to tear her attention from hungrily checking your Instagram whenever possible.

It’s also what lands her with coronavirus. She’s embarrassed to admit just how many people she has come into contact with when the club doctors ask her questions over the phone.

You send her a lovely message after hearing she is yet another fallen soldier.

Ona is at home, isolating, and you are apparently trapped in Spain, unable to get into Italy. You haven’t quite made it to your parents’ house since your flight was supposed to depart from Madrid. “How come you’re not on the phone to one of your ‘connections’?” Ona asks suspiciously, wondering why this call has lasted longer than ten minutes. “Surely someone knows someone else and they can get you back home.”

“I’m hardly out of my depth in my own country,” you remind her with a twinging sigh, pained that she has suppressed all memories of your childhood. “It’s not like I don’t speak Spanish.”

“Didn’t you get rid of it in your head to make space for Italian and English? Oh, and French too, right? That’s where the fashion weeks are.”

You laugh at her pride for knowing something about your job, but it is not to ridicule her. “I am speaking to you, aren’t I?”

“In Catalan,” she points out. “Forget Spanish, but don’t forget Catalan.”

“I can’t. It’s the language everyone uses to tell me about how fucked you’ve been lately.” You take in a deep breath, uncomfortable with Ona’s silence but knowing your piece needs to be said. “Are you aware of what happened a few months ago? Why I missed the wedding?” One of your friends met her dream man and he whisked her off to Menorca for a small ceremony. Only the people she loved the most were invited, which included your childhood friend group. “We were in New York, a whole bunch of us. It was late but the show had been a big deal so we went out to celebrate, and… these ‘friends’, these people, they aren’t the same as you and me. Most of them are English, you know, and they come from very fancy schools where addiction is normal. Two of them ended up in the hospital that night – the bag hadn’t even made it round to me by the time they’d dropped. I know it seems far-fetched, but all I’m trying to say is that addiction has consequences. Bad consequences.”

“So you’re not on my side?” Ona isn’t taking this too seriously. A few people have joked about her questionable new hobby, but no one has made it seem so dire that they have needed to get you involved. You who, of course, Ona will listen to.

“I am always on your side.”

That is her main take-away from the conversation, Ona chooses, when it ends an hour later. She swoons, meaning the last twenty women have been a waste of time, but she also tortures herself into ignoring the potential problem. Being a sex addict would be embarrassing, so she won’t be.

Though your subtle shaming for her abundance of quick-fix flings is hypocritical, Ona would also hate for you to see her that way. You can avoid commitment all you like, but she is determined to be different to prove to you that she is a viable candidate, should you wish to stop stringing her along. It’s probably toxic; it probably means that you are both clinging onto a friendship that should either end or be labelled something else. It probably is the push and pull that has kept you interested, Ona thinks, because she knows that you like the chase.

However, as much as she’d like to be freed of whatever game she is caught up in, she can’t seem to let you go like that.

…

The next time Ona and you have a proper conversation about something other than how your love lives have been stunted or how people back home are not as successful as the two of you is when most of the restrictions have been lifted.

You waited out the pandemic in Vilassar de Mar, much to your annoyance, but now that you can travel again, the first person on your mind to visit is your childhood best friend. You’re not as close as you used to be, having drifted further during even more years apart, but it does not dull your love for her, nor hers for you.

Ona has changed her mind about Manchester and is forcing herself to like it. It works enough for a visit from you to be the last thing on her mind, and so she slows her response time down until the next arranged date to see each other in person is all set for the summer before the Euros in England.

You’re not quite home but you are in the country, and, with the pre-Euros camp in two days, Ona is spending the final few hours of calm left before the storm in the comforting presence of her mum and dad.

And… you, apparently.

“You weren’t supposed to be here yet,” is Ona’s greeting when she opens the front door.

Your smile is wide and genuine, and you are holding a gift bag in one hand. There is a nice bottle of wine in the other. “Not even an ‘hola’?” When no reply comes, you swallow the emotions that have arisen; the ones that are maybe, just a little bit to do with how soft Ona looks with her hair down. And the slope of her jaw. And the ghosts of defined biceps that bulge even when she isn’t flexing her arms. “I’m dropping by to see your parents. I thought you were in Barcelona with your footballer friends.”

“You visit my parents?” asks Ona curiously.

“Of course.”

With that, you side-step her and call out to her mother, announcing both your arrival and your desire to hand them their gifts. Dinner is just about to be served, and Ona is soon tasked with setting another place at the table for you as though the last ten years had never happened and your friendship hadn’t lost its innocence.

Maybe it would be better for Ona to not know what it feels like to kiss you, to touch you, to – dare she think it – love you. It would certainly make things less painful, and would have saved her from catching at least one illness and spending a good amount of money on Ubers to escape from random apartments. It would make it easier to listen to you talk about your life in Milan, where you seem to exist in a bubble of incredibly attractive people who are desperate to hold hands and form a raft.

“Modelling can be brutal,” you agree, nodding at Ona’s father as you follow on from his concerns about your career. He voices them regularly; whenever you see him. Ona realises you have spent a lot of time with her parents without her. “It gets quite competitive between the girls so I’ve been somewhat avoiding them. They’ve brought in someone new, scouted from Germany, I think, and I’m a little worried that I’ll have to switch agencies if they start prioritising her.” You glance at Ona, wanting to know if she is listening, hoping she is. You wish that she were as good at suppressing her feelings as you are. You wish she didn’t look at you like you hung the moon, because you know that you have to tell her you have hung it for someone else. “I’d move tomorrow, to be honest, but I’ve started seeing this guy and he’s convincing me to stay in Milan.”

“The minute he is your boyfriend, you bring him here,” commands Ona’s mother in a tone she hasn’t yet used on her actual daughter (said daughter has never mentioned anyone before). “Show us a picture of him! Is he a model like you?”

He is, and if Ona holds her fork tighter after she sees the photo you pull up, that is her business. You secretly take in her clenched jaw and furrowed eyebrows, and this might be the worst thing you have ever had to do. To see her so defeated, so hopeless, is upsetting, especially since you are harbouring the same feelings. However, you are able to admit when it is time to throw the towel in, and you can no longer live like this.

Ona is too perfect for you. She is driven, hard-working, and funny. She likes to nutmeg little children on the street, and she likes to buy them an ice-cream if they slip a goal past her, slotting the flat footballs into imaginary nets and celebrating as though they have just won the Champions League. She knows a lot, more than she thinks she does. She cares about people, but sometimes it manifests in anger, in frustration.

Any aspect of her is an aspect that you could love, and that is reason enough not to. Because how can you allow yourself to taint such perfection?

But, in this unspoken rejection, the compliment is obscured from the recipient’s view. All Ona sees when you gush about how he buys you flowers and takes you out to dinner, is a burning, bright question. It flashes red and yellow, both as a warning and cry for attention. How can she compete if you don’t even recognise her as a competitor?

…

“--And then they proceeded to finish a film they were halfway through as if it were the most normal thing ever,” Ona rants the minute she hits the concrete of Las Rozas, walking into the facility with Aitana and the other girls who travelled with her from Barcelona. Only the midfielder has been gracious enough to listen to the entire monologue, but the others joke that that is because Ona’s emotional state has led her to spiral in her native language. It is forbidden for them to openly speak Catalan in the Spanish camp, according to Jorge Vilda, who loves to hurl a ‘we can send you back to where you came from in an instant’ their way if he so much as hears a ‘bon dia’. Naturally, Aitana doesn’t give a fuck about the rule, although Ona chooses to believe that she is listening because she cares.

“Are you done?” Aitana asks thoughtfully, sucking on her bottom lip as she tries to absorb her friend’s crisis and formulate a valid, sensible response. The two have known each other for a while now, and Aitana remembers a time when Ona was relentlessly teased by their older teammates for being in love with her best friend. It is clear to her that those feelings never ceased, though she has heard through the grapevine (Leila Ouahabi) that you are now a model and you live somewhere in Italy. You’re part Italian, is what Leila also claims, having professed your ethnicity to a small huddle of fellow gossipers one day in the gym at the Barça training facility.

“No! Nothing is ever done with her. It’s viscous and it continues in a horrid cycle that has me flapping around in circles like some idiot. I am one of her boys.” Ona groans dramatically, the sound perhaps a little too loud. A few of the girls in front of them turn around to see why a cat seems to have been strangled, but they quickly lose interest when they see it is just Ona and her disastrous situation. “Do you know how fucking humiliating it is to be one of her guys? I am a professional footballer! I play for Manchester United, one of the most historic clubs in the world, and I am about to represent my country in a major tournament. I am successful, Aita, and yet I am still not enough for her.”

“Maybe she only likes men.”

“A man has never made her scream like I have,” she bites back. Aitana blushes, but Ona is too far gone in her rage to hear her crudeness nor preserve her friend’s sanity. “She’s been like this since she decided she was gay! Isn’t that hilarious? ‘Ona, I think I’m gay’, she said. I know lesbian breakups can be hard, but there is no way my cousin fucked her up to this extent.”

“I can’t help you with this, Oni,” Aitana laments, sorry to have to confess this to her friend. “I think you need to talk to her about it. A proper conversation to fix long-term issues, not like the ones you obviously had when agreeing to stop having sex and things like that. Only she knows what she’s thinking.” It is definitely not the advice Ona wants to hear, but she cannot deny the midfielder’s wisdom. “But for now, we focus on winning.”

…

You are more than a little confused.

To start from the beginning, Ona’s cousin fucked you up. She broke your heart, and that first impression of dating girls was incredibly traumatising. With girls, you don’t just kiss and sleep with them, you get close – really close – and then when you break up, it is like you have lost both a girlfriend and a best friend.

Men are a lot simpler. Men like you and they aren’t shy about it. They can sometimes be just as cruel, but you have never felt invested enough to care too much.

Some nights, you don’t fall asleep, tossing and turning between your sexual identity, aware that you don’t need to label it but desperate to… discover yourself. If you don’t understand that part of you, how will someone else? How can you be loved? How do you even know who you want to love you?

For as much as Milan is great, it definitely doesn’t help you with your crisis. Girls in Milan like to do what they want. It is not uncommon for the models to kiss each other in clubs, in front of appreciative male gazes or not, and then reveal their engagement to their future husband the very next day. It’s easy to be drawn into such a bubble, but the minute you step out of it, you are hit with the real world.

It’s what makes the pandemic so distressing for you personally, because you are forced to live like normal people for some time. Your eyes are held open and the question is shoved down your throat, and it really doesn’t help that Ona’s cousin never moved out of Vilassar de Mar.

She sees you one day, saying hello from a suitable distance as you pick up milk as per your mother’s request. “I heard you’re modelling?” she asks with no agenda, no seductive glint in her eye. You notice the ring on her finger, and she feels the heaviness of your staring. “Oh, I got married a year ago. Did Ona not tell you?”

You realise that you and Ona try to avoid talking about anything other than the love interests you have. “No, she didn’t. Congratulations, though. She’s a lucky woman.”

“You don’t have to pretend you’re happy for me,” laughs the woman opposite you, amused and somewhat apologetic. “Look, I’m really sorry for how I acted when we were younger. I was definitely not the most mature person out there, and I know I hurt you.”

“I cried for months.”

“I’m sorry,” she repeats. You suck in a deep breath, trying to hold the memories of your pain at bay. “The first breakup is usually the worst but at least it gets better, as you probably know.”

She looks at you expectantly, awaiting your confirmation. It never comes.

“I haven’t dated another girl since,” you tell her, sounding rather detached from yourself.

Her eyebrows furrow and she is clearly frowning behind her facemask. “What about Ona? I thought you were together when you lived in Madrid. It takes more than a friendship to do what you did.”

You were originally going to go to university in England. It was your dream, and Ona wasn’t entirely aware of the situation because you hadn’t wanted to tell her you were leaving. Then she was sent out on a professional contract to Madrid, and it wasn’t like you were the only one leaving.

Ona’s cousin, years ago, had suggested that you go to Madrid if you wanted to get away from Vilassar de Mar. “You’ll be close enough to come home when you’d like, but not so close that you’ll feel as though nothing has changed,” she had said.

No one had known about your offers in England aside from your parents. And Ona’s cousin, who’d only found out because you had called her, drunk on celebratory champagne, because you had to tell someone.

“You gave up a dream for her because you didn’t want her to be alone.”

“I moved to Milan. In the end, she was alone.”

“You sound like you regret it,” she replies, nodding once at you to bid you farewell and then heading over to a woman who is standing with a puppy in her arms. You watch as she pulls down her mask and kisses her wife, her eyes shining with love and happiness, and your blood runs green with jealousy.

You hate Ona’s cousin for devastating you once more.

Do you regret it?

It’s unclear.

You try to make sense of it when you don’t hesitate to fly back to Italy the minute you can, going home to lick your wounds at Ona’s non-committal response to meeting you when you are in London the next month. It hurts that she is no longer at your beck-and-call, but you are somewhat happy for her. You know that lines have been crossed and that she has suffered for it. You know that you are probably the one at fault here.

This time in Milan, you don’t fight it as much. You kiss other girls and let them go home to their boyfriends; you submit to the thing you had convinced yourself you would never become.

As you drive yourself deeper and deeper into your stereotype, the thought of Ona gets pushed away and newer, more culturally-acceptable fantasies come to mind.

It takes a photoshoot for him to ask you out on a date.

It takes returning home and gaining the approval of Ona’s parents (who are far more open than your own) for you to agree to be official.

You don’t ask Ona what she thinks. She’s busy, you reason, because she is representing Spain at the Euros. She won’t care who you are dating and she certainly doesn’t need it rubbed in her face.

There are many reasons why you go out with him.

One is that you do like him; he’s nice, he’s funny, he treats you well. (He’s not Ona.) Another is that rent is going up and him sharing the load is helpful. (He’s not Ona.) There is also that he is very popular within the agency, and your chemistry on camera is enough to keep your jobs rolling in and casting directors satisfied.

He’s not Ona. You know that.

That's the whole point.

If he were Ona, you’d be deeply in love with him. If he were Ona, you would never leave the house, never leave his embrace, never leave the little bubble created when it is just the two of you and no one else. If he were Ona, you would be excited about the conversations he gently guides you into; marriage, children, where you are going to live one day. You’d miss him more when he isn’t here. You’d care.

But you just… don’t.

Another year passes, more Ona-less than the last, and then she is suddenly coming back home to Barcelona, a medal around her neck and word of a relationship floating above her head.

You could ask her about it if you wanted to because she is still one of your closest friends, but the truth is, you really, desperately don’t want to hear it. While Ona has been falling in love with someone else, you have been proving your stupid feelings to yourself.

The act (your current relationship) lowers enough for you to go home for Christmas. You leave Milan as though fleeing from a hurricane, and you refuse to control the damage until you have entered the new year. Your parents aren’t entirely sure they want you moping about the house, confused how someone so successful can revert to a moody teenager the minute they are back in safe territory, and they heavily encourage you to accept an invite that was extended out to you a few months ago.

Your friends are going skiing in Andorra, and they’d like for you to come with them.

“Ona won’t be there,” one of them regretfully informs you. “She said she doesn’t want to make things weird. She has a girlfriend – or, I don’t know, a talking stage. She wants you to have fun.”

“But Ona and I are friends,” you try to explain, feeling exposed by the look of pity she gives you; the same look someone receives when they find out their ex has gotten married or something similar. As a defensive mechanism, you hastily pull out your phone and dial her number. Everyone watches you, now uninterested in their food as you dine and plan your holiday.

Ona picks up on the third ring, escaping her dinner with Lucy and rushing into the cool, nighttime air of Barcelona.

“Hi?” she says – asks – with raised eyebrows, wondering if you’re in danger.

“You’re coming skiing with us, aren’t you?”

Your friends hide their laughs behind their hands, surprised by how firm your tone is. You do not need it for Ona, because she does anything you say regardless, but they enjoy seeing this side of you. This is someone who has had to fend for herself in a foreign country.

Removing the phone from her ear for a moment, Ona sighs, disappointed in herself.

“Yeah, of course. I’ve missed you, you know.”

…

Skiing is not something Ona is really allowed to do. As a footballer, her legs are what pay her wage. Career-destroying planks of metal are not the best way to spend the dying embers of the year. She knows that. She does, she swears, but she is so eager to go that Jonatan cannot crush her dreams. He tells her, “if you get injured your contract will be reviewed, Ona Batlle,” and she promises him that it won’t happen. Nothing bad is going to happen.

It will be the first time she has spent more than a day with her childhood friends, and she is unbelievably excited.

Lucy finds it adorable and makes it known, helping her pack for her trip, versed in what to bring because her sister skis or something like that (Ona can’t really focus on her almost-girlfriend's monologue). Lucy likes Ona a lot, and it makes her stomach flutter when she thinks about Ona and her friends talking about them. She’s sure her feelings are reciprocated, and she cannot wait for Ona to return to her in the new year, all smiles and lingering hangovers, and ask her to be her girlfriend. Officially.

Your friends convene in the centre of Vilassar de Mar with two cars between you. There are ten people coming.

Someone, most-likely trying to keep the peace, instructs Ona into one vehicle and you into the other. The drive isn’t too long, but you suppose that the tension is uncomfortable for those who aren’t accustomed to maintaining a friendship despite the weight of it.

It’s five days, and you are determined to have fun.

Ona is naturally good at this, although she claims it is her first time. You, living in Milan, are just as advanced.

By the third day, the both of you agree that going off together to do some of the harder runs will be harmless. Spending the day together won’t feel like a date or a romantic holiday. Watching Ona glide over the compacted snow won’t be attractive, watching her cocky smirk as she scales the bumps along the side of the piste won’t do anything.

It won’t. (It does.)

And it just has to be the third day that someone pulls out two bottles of tequila and a drinking game that is going to ensure every single one of you is off your face by midnight.

In rooms opposite one another, you and Ona call your respective partners and tell them about how great a time you are having, actively avoiding telling them about who you spent the day with as though it counts as cheating. It doesn’t, technically. Nothing has happened. But, still, it feels intimate and secret; forbidden.

Then, there is a shout that rings through the house. Everyone comes to the table; the party has begun.

Ona finds out that she is absolutely terrible at drinking games, and loses in every way possible.

You find out that she is still just as touchy when she is drunk.

Your friends try not to comment on it, all having agreed upon yet another passive role in such an irritating situation. Their non-interference almost ceases by the time Ona climbs onto your lap, head turning as she whispers something into your drunk ears, making you laugh privately. In fact, someone has to hold someone else back before they shout at the two of you to make out or break up.

But it’s not really necessary, their prompting, because it hits a certain hour and… nothing else matters anymore.

Ona has been touching you the whole night and you have finally reached your limit.

Boyfriend be damned, you lead her to your bedroom.

She asks you many times if you still want this, and you cannot think of anything to say other than ‘yes’.

You’re not as drunk as she is, and you both know that, but everything feels so perfect and right.

When you wake up the next morning, your anger is more at yourself than the sleeping woman beside you, but she is an outward target for such a boiling emotion and it just makes things easier.

“Ona.” You shake her awake, not caring for her hangover. “Ona, I can’t believe we’ve done this.” She rubs her eyes, dazed and confused for a moment but coming to her senses soon enough. “I have a boyfriend, Ona, and… I don’t like you like that.”

It’s not true.

It’s really, really, really not true, but the fact that you have said it is enough for Ona to leave your room with the intention of never seeing you again.

She gets the train back to Barcelona, turning up at Lucy’s flat in floods of tears, and barrels straight into those strong arms with the intention of never mentioning what she has done.

…

You break up with your boyfriend a month later. Or rather, he breaks up with you, tired of being messed around, tired of your hesitation to fully commit.

The break-up is not the most upsetting thing you’ve been through, but your ego is a little bruised.

You try to make it look like you are having a great time in Milan, even though the agency has once again discarded your file and overlooked you for shoots you used to book in an instant. You try to seem like things aren’t falling apart, but it’s of no use when your father calls you and tells you that your mother is ill.

It isn’t cancer but it’s similar, and you know that you need to come home.

You pack your bags and leave without a second thought, because maybe Madrid was far enough. Maybe there is a reason Ona signed for her home club again and most of your friends still live relatively close to their parents.

Maybe you are not meant to be separated from those you love, because running away is futile if you are always going to end up together again.

In Barcelona, a modelling agency eagerly draws up a contract with you. Although you are from there, your career being based in Milan previously creates an international allure about you (or so they say), and you are assured that work is going to rush towards you as though someone has just knocked down a dam.

Your job is secured, your mother begins treatment, but there is something you cannot shake off.

It hurts to think of Ona, to think of how you left things, but it helps, too. Seeing her face in your mind is comforting. You hear her voice as you drift off to sleep, and you let it soothe you in your dreams.

“Ona has a girlfriend,” her mother tells you when you next visit them. Her frown is unexpected because all she has ever wanted is for her children to be happy and loved. “It’s not right, it doesn’t feel right.” You begin to shrug your shoulders and crawl into your shell, but she interrupts your thought process; “I think you should go see her.”

“Why?”

The woman rolls her eyes. “Just do what I say.”

You nod because she is so scarily sure about it, and you… It’s hard to believe, but you call Ona.

She picks up.

“I was sorry to hear about your mum.”

“Don’t worry. She’s fine.”

“Are you back at home?”

“Yeah, I am.” You pause. “Well, not quite. I’m living in Barcelona.”

Something fizzes in the air; pops, crackles.

“Need me to show you around the city?”

And it’s Ona, so how could you say no?

…

Your visit goes very well.

She takes you out to dinner and shows you around her neighbourhood. She introduces you when she runs into people she knows, and she is insistent about dragging you to her football match on the weekend.

Everything is seemingly forgiven and Ona is intent on integrating you back into her life.

She wants you to feel at home, though she knows you should already, and she wants to lessen the stress of hospital appointments and death and, if not death, then a difficult recovery.

You are sitting in her apartment – now devoid of all signs of Lucy – on her comfortable sofa, watching something together after a day of walking around and sealing up the cracks that formed in Andorra.

Sitting leads into cuddling and then into wandering hands that eagerly roam underneath layers of fabric.

Ona’s breath hitches as you brush the hard lines of her abs, your hands particularly drawn to them and just how strong she has become. “You must have only felt them on men,” she offers as an explanation. “How many have you slept with in comparison to–?”

And your hands stop.

“Sorry,” Ona mumbles, seemingly upset at her outburst. “I’m just curious. I can’t work you out.” She can’t quite look you in the eye, mainly due to the logistics of your position, but she isn’t sure she wants to see the truth attached to her statement.

You question if that’s a good thing, the fact she needs to ask; the fact that she has no choice but to communicate. It was going to happen sooner or later. “A few,” is what you settle on. Ona leaves it at that, carefully pulling the hair tie from your plait, unravelling it with one hand as the other rests against your stomach in an embrace. You smile. “You’re not going to ask who?”

Her fingers stop for a moment. “No.” She speaks so quietly, her voice almost a whisper in your ear. “I don’t care about them.” You relax into her more, feeling her against your back, feeling the softness of the blanket against your feet as it hangs at the edge of the sofa.

“Who do you care about, then?”

“You.”

Carefully, both her hands hold your hips and she sits you up, smiling as she does. You tell her she’s showing off, she replies that you are always showing off. To that, you brush those hands from your sides and lean down to kiss her, more decidedly for once; more in control. It’s a surprising feeling for both of you, the forcefulness. Urgency. Not unfamiliar, but unexpected for this time on this day.

The last time you kissed Ona, you had a boyfriend.

Your mouth goes to her neck as soon as she decides that she wants her hands back on your hips, pushing you down into her lap. It’s now a competition, you think. She’s quickly coming completely undone by your kissing and biting, but you are not ignoring the feeling as she makes you grind down, makes you need that friction. “Fuck,” you moan in her ear. She grips you tighter.

You start to pull off her shirt having had enough of the grey between you, asking if it’s okay, if she’s sure she isn’t too tired. Her reply is, “take it off, god,” and then the removal of your clothes that get thrown just shy of the wine glasses set out on her coffee table. Leggings aren’t the most practical for impromptu sex, but she’s quick and smooth and someone who has definitely done that before.

With your bare chest on display and almost nothing between Ona and you, she lifts you up for a moment with the intention of flipping the two of you, getting you on your back. You pause for a moment, trying to decide if she’s doing it because she wants to or because she thinks that’s the only way to do it, but her hands are moving now, up your sides, round the front of your chest and you relax. She laughs quietly, amused, because the tension dissipates, dissolving like sweet, sweet sugar in hot coffee as soon as your legs wrap around her back.

Ona asks before she does it, picking you up and laying you back down without needing to part her lips from your own. You watch her as she sits up, body in between your thighs. “You’re going to just stay there?” She shakes her head. “I can top,” you tease, a stark contrast from how it was the last time you did this. Ona doesn’t like being told she can’t do something. However indirectly.

“Yeah?” You nod, biting the smirk out of your lips. “I don’t care.”

You are in the process of rolling your eyes when her cocky mouth is put to good use. Your underwear was taken off at some point earlier — you hadn’t realised. Ona’s head moves between your legs, up and down, your hand that isn’t holding onto the sofa in her hair, the soft waves lacing between your fingers.

She’s good at it; thorough, practised. Her tongue circles your clit for a moment before dipping into your entrance. Something about the cockiness of her movements, her tongue, her hand rubbing between her own legs, makes everything more surreal, more blissful. She moans softly, lips kissing their way up your body, hands no longer focused on herself. Instead, they take the place of her mouth, two fingers inside you as quickly as it takes for her to ask if you are okay to carry on. Your reply (“yes”) is cut off quickly by her mouth on yours, tongue swiping at your bottom lip in another question of permission. You can taste yourself on her.

At her command, you sit up, letting her pull you back onto her lap as she sucks at your neck. “Don’t leave any marks,” you warn as her teeth pull a whimper from your supposed stoicness. “I don’t want the makeup artists asking questions.” It comes out too late, because you feel her teeth graze your collarbone quickly, not painful, no, but something that feels so, so good. “Ona.” She sighs in disappointment and adjusts where you are in her lap, so your legs are either side of her thigh.

You find yourself rocking slowly, letting her savour your breasts between her hands and her mouth. She whispers that she wants to see you come, that you don’t need to hold back – not with her, not ever – so you start grinding down, harder, faster. Her hands drop back to your hips, guiding your movements, forcing you to slow down when she feels everything building up. Each time, you let out a “fuck” and attempt to go against her grip to get that friction. “Not just yet,” she mutters, no longer touching you anywhere other than where her hands meet your hips and her thigh presses between your legs.

“Fuck off, Ona,” you breathe, frustrated. “When, then?”

She slows the pace even more. “Can you last a little longer?” You look at her face, brushing away the strands of hair that have fallen over her eyes, ghosting your fingers along her cheek, running your thumb along her lips. She smiles again, eyes creasing slightly.

As her hands drop to cup your face, you say, “you’re beautiful.”

Ona blushes.

You look down at her exposed cleavage, nipples pebbled against the sports bra that is unusually low-cut. It might border on intense staring as you begin to grind against her with the intention of actually getting off now. She laughs, saying her eyes are higher up than that, but going back to her trail of kisses along your jaw nevertheless.

For what seems like longer than a few seconds, the build up finally stops, the tower toppling over in a rush of pleasure. Ona’s hands move your hips as your head drops to rest on her shoulder. She talks you through it, telling you that you look so pretty, telling you that she’s so turned on.

And that’s when she whispers it.

It has taken years to get to this moment, many of them filled with unnecessary suffering.

It has taken years but it does not matter.

Ona tells you that she loves you and that is when you have finally come home.

#woso x reader #woso #randombush3 #barca femeni #woso imagines #ona batlle x reader #ona batlle #ona batlle smut

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hippolotamus · 5 months

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Who would I be if I didn't come barreling in with queer feelings??? Inspired by this post from my wife @bidisasterevankinard, this morning's therapy session and a few too many listens to Cleopatra by The Lumineers 😘

late for this, late for that | 7x06 coda | 757 words | G

“Not late. Right on time,” Evan sighs, content and sated, turning in his arms so they’re back-to-chest. It allows him to settle into his newly discovered love of being the little spoon. And Tommy’s new found love of indulging Evan.

“Good to know.” He presses a kiss into Evan’s mussed, disheveled curls, chuckling at the light snores his – boyfriend? Date? Guy he’s seeing? – is already making.

If he’s being honest, ‘right on time’ is the furthest thing from what he feels. Evan hasn’t said as much, but Tommy suspects he’s started to question things about himself. About his life in general, past interactions, romances, friendships, crushes. Eventually he’ll likely face one of the biggest, if not the biggest, questions. How could I not know?

As someone who went on a similar journey, he’ll do his best to guide Evan through. He wants to wave the proverbial magic wand to produce easy, matter-of-fact answers and soothe any wounds, but Evan will have to do that part on his own. Eventually it becomes a rewarding experience, making those discoveries, but he knows as well as anyone that it can be a bitch of a road to travel. An often dark pathway loaded with unexpected landmines. Full of monsters that go ‘boo’ at the very worst times, usually just when the dust of the last jumpscare has settled.

Not for the first time – and likely not for the last – the notion makes Tommy wish they could have met earlier. That he could somehow turn back the clock to meet himself earlier so he could be there for Evan. He’s already put himself through the wringer, in therapy and in his own mental torture chamber, about why he lied for so long about who he is. But, as his therapist reminds him over and over again, these things are never truly done. There are often new layers unveiled, triggered by different circumstances. Sometimes big and loud, sometimes ordinary and everyday. Tommy thinks Evan might be a bit of both.

Either way, here he is, wondering how his own life might have been different if he hadn’t denied himself for so long. If he could have been brave like Hen and said ‘this is who I am’. Because it’s not as if he didn’t know. Tommy knew exactly who he was, who he is. He’s known since the first time he kissed CJ, his high school football team’s defensive tackle, behind the bleachers after practice one late summer night. God knows he had been questioning for a hell of a lot longer.

However, he can’t time travel and change things. He can’t give past versions of himself options that didn’t exist. Well, technically they did, but it meant blowing up his entire life and being ostracized. While Hen didn’t have anything to lose, because she was already being isolated by that era of the 118, Tommy did.

He had what he thought were friends, though, really, most of them were alliances. People he accepted as friends for the high cost of burying his identity. Paid for with girlfriends and the occasional male sex worker when he really needed to let go. With living an empty, lonely, fraudulent existence, constantly saying no to the things and experiences he craved. Because saying yes - to ‘just one’ gay club, one pride event, one secret boyfriend willing to be called girlfriend for appearances - meant risking being found out. Meant taking a wrecking ball to the carefully curated macho persona he’d built for protection. Meant having all of his ‘meaningful’ supports and relationships ripped away. It was bad enough that his own parents couldn’t be there for him. He didn’t need the camaraderie of firefighting taken away, too.

Evan snorts and snuffles, pulling Tommy back to the present. He turns in his sleep, somehow burrowing closer as he throws an arm across Tommy’s waist. His mouth is slack and parted, breathing calm and even.

A wave of fondness washes over Tommy as he watches his… Evan sleep, blissfully unaware of all the things tumbling around in his brain. It’s an emotion he hasn’t felt in a while, not like this, but he’s grateful for how naturally it seems to want to return.

Maybe they couldn’t meet earlier or change their histories, save themselves or each other from pain. But they’re here now with their combined battle scars, ready for something, whatever that looks like. And isn’t that better than never? So, perhaps what Evan said was true. Maybe he’s not too late and they’re right on time.

part 2 (Eddie's POV) here

#911 spoilers #bucktommy #tevan #bucktommy fic #hippo writes #coda fic #911 7x06 #tommy kinard #evan buckley #the cleopatra series #christ i'm such a sucker for queer feels

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14carrotghoul · 2 months

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and you can tell everybody (unplugged)

Hi friends! Do not proceed if you don't want spoilers for my fic, and you can tell everybody! Album notes and extras are below the cut :)

ACD's early career is releasing covers and original songs with June on YouTube and later TikTok. Career takes off his first year of university and the rest of the band joins, agreeing to play for a few years to see what happens.

[unnamed] (2020) [very little info on this besides being very pointedly Mexican-American, but the genre is rock influenced by Mexican music, like Cafe Tacvba? Molotov? but more modern]

tex mex - Lyrical inspiration: "Somos Mas Americanos" by Los Tigres Del Norte

decisions (November 2023) [highly influenced by Omar Apollo, I promise the other albums are very different! I'm shoving him down your throats here and I know it lol]

1 new message - mellow r&b. Have suspected something is wrong, ignored it, and now the impact is hitting full force. Wrongly interpreted as Alex leaving a voicemail for an ex but it is a song written for his past self about missing his ADHD and bisexuality. Sound: "3AM" by Haim

reckless abandon - daddy issues song cowritten with Liam. Bilingual. Sound & lyrically: "Voice Inside My Head" by The Chicks

am I? - 'You raised me to disappoint you bc I could never live up to your expectations'/'It took me too long to find myself bc I've been trying to be who you imagined'. Sound: "Go Away" by Omar Apollo

new year new me - fuck expectations, I'm going to do what I want Sound: "Invincible" by Omar Apollo

very bad things - upbeat hookup song. breaking all his own rules and it feels good. "Mercury" by Steve Lacy

split household - child of divorce anthem. Sound: "Kamikaze" by Omar Apollo

seria una mentira - don't make me choose a side. I love you both and it tears me apart. Pointedly about parents. Sound: "Two of Us" by Omar Apollo

too much - Cumbia version of "Too Much" by Carly Rae Jepsen

never enough - never enough to convince people to stay. Sound: "Pram" by Omar Apollo. Also feel this song's outro is very fitting for this!

a light left on - Platonic June appreciation song about how safe Alex has always felt with her. Sound & lyrically: "Caminar Bonito" by Natalia Lafourcade

Good - First time he is told and BELIEVES he is good. "While U Can" by Omar Apollo

yrs - Dramatic love song. First time Alex uses rain motif. Sound: "Petrified" by Omar Apollo

seria una mentira pt. 2 - it would be a lie to choose something simple over choosing you. Sound: "Two of Us" by Omar Apollo but slowed down and more hopeful

spine/die climbing - vulnerable pillow talk. Sound: "Plane Trees" by Omar Apollo, Mustafa

miel - sacrilege bj song. Catches on with queer Latine audience and is memed similarly to Call me by your name by Lil Nas X. Grows the band's audience. Sound: "Te Mata" by Kali Uchis.

on purpose - I choose to be all the things that I am and am not picking a side. End album on a positive note. Sound:"Done With You" by Omar Apollo

vows (June 2024) [very American sound, dreamier, more optimistic]

no booty calls - voicemail w instrumental. Sound: "All Around Me Now" by Perfume Genius

apricot tarts - honeymoon period of a new relationship. Sound: "Someone to Spend Time With" by Los Retros

in dreams - extended version of Henry's in dreams email set to music. In this universe, they met and kissed on New Years at Pez's party and still did long distance and exchanged emails :) Sound: "In A River (Acoustic)" by Rostam

supersonic - secret, fun ode to karaoke night and letting loose on a night out. Sound: "Runaways" by The Killers

tapestry - thank god I'm bi anthem. Sound: "The Steps" by Haim

lipstick on her neck - sung by June. Essentially the lyrics of lipstick lover by janelle monae but in "ALLIIGATOR TEARS" by Beyonce Americana style.

then have me - tender I'm putting it all out there, all you have to do is take it. Sound: "Solar Pilgrim" by Twain

pride (and prejudice) - purposefully anthemic chorus. about being proud despite prejudice in a red state. Sound: "Delta Dawn" by Tanya Tucker

he is my choice - eloping in the rain. comedic/romantic song about how everything went wrong at a wedding. Sound: "Howling at Nothing" by Nathaniel Rateliff & the Night Sweats

roasting Alex - jam session - the band lovingly roasts Alex. Sound: "Ballad of Hank Williams" by Hank Williams Jr., Don Helms

Not Just Friends - Liam to Spencer. Song about how they're frequently mistaken for just best friends and how happy it makes him to correct that they're more than that. Song chosen so piano and drums play the beats together. Sound: "A Little Honey" by Nathaniel Rateliff & the Night Sweats

Be Cool - Spencer to Liam. Quirky/self-deprecating song about his butterflies about being with someone he's in awe of. Sound: "Heart's Content" by Brandi Carlile

a romantic - June to Nora. Confirms that Nora is aromantic to public. June saying she would never need more from Nora bc she gets to wake up next to her best friend every day. Sound: "Tu" by maye.

bluebonnet - This place (Texas) was never a home to me until you showed me how it was a part of you and now I see you everywhere. Sound & lyrically: "I Think of You" by Rodriguez.

red-blooded (August 2029)

cover: Navy suit w white shirt and American Flag pin on lapel, cropped so only torso is showing

Americana sound again - about 50/50 rock and Americana. Features from Dolly Parton, Orville Peck, and Brandon Flowers

blue blood (August 2029)

cover: red British army dress, cropped so only torso is showing

British glam rock sounds. Features from Elton John, Brian May, and samples David Bowie.

co-written with Henry

AND as for where they go from the end of the fic:

Alex becomes a civil rights lawyer in Austin.

Henry's writing career grows but he remains relatively private.

June becomes a music journalist. Eventually ventures into exposes on the industry's shady practices and successfully pivots into investigative journalism

Nora does her own thing.

Liam stays in music industry as a band manager under Zahra's tutelage.

Spencer majored in music production/mixing(?) and gets taken under Pez's wing. Has a smaller solo career and produces for a few indie bands before he settles down and works as a sound mixer in the film industry.

Bea continues to play guitar and flit between collaboration projects.

Zahra is the band's manager and Shaan is Henry's publicist/mentor and they meet while officially strategizing Alex's coming out.

#rwrb fic #my writing #a rambly behind the scenes of my doc notes

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alphajocklover · 4 months

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What about a G2S story about greasers? There's so few of those.

Imagine: A very lonely gay guy meets a rockabilly, greaser gang. They take him under their wing, which gay guy appreciates because of his loneliness. But slowly they start changing him, making him just like them.

In the end the lonely gay guy becomes a James Dean, Danny Zuco-wannabe with the gang becoming his new found family.

A lot of people think that Alphas and Betas are a relatively new thing. It makes sense to assume so in a way. Alphas as we know them are pretty new, but that’s only because Alpha culture has changed over time, just like ours. There were Alphas in the old west, in the ancient world, and even going back to the beginning of civilization as we know it. Recently I discovered an old book where someone had written down a number of stories about Alphas from the past. I guess I’m not the first person to document their behavior. One story in particular stuck with me though, so I’ve transcribed it here. Hope you enjoy.

Caleb Sparrow was a complete and utter nerd. An unhip clyde with a reputation for being a bit of a spaz. The kind of goof all the cool cats completely ignored. He was only really good at one thing: not standing out. A part of him hated that he was the way he was, that he was a loser with no friends. But a part of him was grateful. For a secretly queer man living in 1955, he was actually pretty lucky. No one bullied him (mainly because no one noticed him), his secret desires hadn’t been found out, and he had a good future ahead of him. He knew that eventually he’d land a steady job, find a swell gal who he could get along with well enough to marry, and live the traditional life his parents had always wanted of him. A part of him was grateful. But a part of him still hated it all. Hated how lonely he was, how he’d never find someone he’d really love, how his entire life was always going to be a lie. But he was resigned to it. Until… he met an Alpha named Biff.

Biff was everything Caleb wasn’t. He was the hippest greaser in town, with a handsome face, manly muscles, a souped up rag top and a gang of fellow greasers to hang with. Biff had it all. Sure all the squares all said he was bad news, but he didn’t care. He had it made in the shade. He had a different betty with him every night. That’s what made it so weird to everyone when Biff suddenly started being so friendly with Caleb. Caleb didn’t know what to make of it at first, and was pretty sure he was going to end up getting beat, but Biff was… well he was dreamy, so Caleb let himself believe that he really wanted to be his friend. He had no idea that Biff was just looking for a new Beta. Turning Caleb into the perfect Beta took less time than you’d expect. Caleb integrated into the gang with surprising ease, all of the other members treating him like they had been friends for life, and as he began to grow closer to the group and Biff, he began to change.

At first it was a slight change in style and lingo, trying to keep up with his new crew. Then he shot up several inches and began to pack on muscle, which the 19 year old brushed off as an overdue growth spurt. But over time the style changes became more and more drastic and his body grew at an even faster rate. Soon he wasn’t just the new kid, he was the second in command, right after Biff. That’s why everyone started calling him Deuce. Just like everyone else in the gang Deuce was muscular, cool, loved cars and was obsessed with Biff. Deuce eventually even came out to Biff and confessed his love, but Biff didn’t wanna deal with all the issues that came with having a queer beta, so he ‘suggested’ that Deuce was actually a pussy hound like him. Considering how many gals Deuce has played backseat bingo with I think Biff might have overdone it, but just like always he got what he wanted. Another manly, muscular, straight greaser for his gang.

**hey there guys! Never done anything with Greasers before, so it’s probably not as good as my usual stuff, but I had fun with it. Hope you all enjoy. Might revisit the idea of Alphas throughout history sometime**

#muscle growth tf #greaser tf #muscle tf #alpha with a capital a #gay to straight

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watchyourbuck · 1 year

Text

Oh god okay here we go

Why must I go into heavy detail you ask? Well, I am actually unable to shut up so here it is them 10 TOP “there’s no chance this is a straight friendship” MOMENTS

“You can have my back any day” aka the enemies to lovers speedrun. The immediate feeling we’re supposed to get from the screen is jealousy. Buck is jealous of the new recruit because he’s hot, a medic, a veteran, whatever. I’ll give it to you children, he WAS jealous. But then they go on call and they get into immediate danger bc 911 is a drama and then Eddie’s very keen on being Buck’s partner. Nothing queer til then right? WRONG. Eddie’s line is pretty normal but the way Buck reacts isn’t. I have had my fair share of “huh this person I didn’t like is actually cool” moments but nEVER have I once sucked in a breath, forgot how to blink, rushed in my words OR stared at said person like I’d like for them to be my lover. Three points to Gayfindor.

“Is your son REALLY the reason you don’t date?” This line and the dialogue that follows makes absolutely no sense from the non-queer glass. Alright he asks bc he wants to know why two girls practically launched themselves at him and he declined (such a kind offer lmao) but… why are you standing so close? Why do you bump shoulders with him as you walk? Most importantly, what the FUCK does Eddie’s smirk mean after “they’re not my type either… not anymore.” Idk about you guys but when I’m not on the market I’m actually not in it 😀 and I don’t go around looking at my best friend like I’d consider fucking her (I’m actually kinda yikes about that thought bc she’s like my sister). Bottom line is: if you’re willing to fuck your best friend, there’s attraction. That scenes oozes attraction and I’d be willing to white glove challenge a body language reader.

The Tsunami. YES okay, there are far many moments in between but I also need to make this a somewhat readable list so here we go. We’re gonna pretend for a hot second Buck wants to save his best friend’s son, and not the child that he considers his own bc I’m tired. Let’s skip to the far end of this (be GrAtEfuL I’m skipping the whole sacrifice that this episode entailed. Buck was willing to die, to never sit down again if it meant looking for Chris [& the utter fear he has to face Eddie]. It’s a lot). Now, I do not OWN a child (thank god) but if I did, I wouldn’t be particularly comfortable with a simple friend from work taking care of them. They could be my very best friend from work and I’d still feel a little icky -at least nervous- about it. Yet Eddie not only takes Christopher back A F T E R the tsunami (Chris could’ve died and Eddie is nothing short of apprehensive), but he says ‘there’s no one I trust with my son more than you’. Um. Not his wife. Not his family (CHRIS’ family), not Abuela, not Tia Pepa. Buck. Who he… just met? Surely it isn’t bc he’s uncle buck… I don’t believe even Maddie has said that to Buck, where he’s actually, yknow, UNCLE BUCK. Co-parenting is not something done between a parent and a friend, and I know this shit bc my mom raised me with a few of her friends and guys,,, she never said that to any of them. Also Chris is practically never seen with anyone else from the 188firefam alone.

The Kitchen Scene™️. I have gone on rants about this before but truth be told THIS is the scene that conveys the MOST canonically sexual tension between them. We can joke about it all y’all want but this scene is unhinged. I don’t think Oliver and Ryan were aware that they should’ve been friends in this scene. The way the conversation shifts from apologetic sad puppy eyes to “you’re throwing your punches at the wrong guy” to I CAN TAKE YOU (???) you can what? “Oh you think?” “Oh I know” HELLO? Pls don’t even get me started on how Buck approaches Eddie, the way he’s puffy-chested, his hand on his belt, eyeing him up and down, nearly biting his lip, cocky grin,,,,, explain to me in hetero. I’m waiting😐 guys c’mon exPLAIN IT TO ME IN HETERO. The way Eddie glances to the side bc where’s Chris? And h o w he sips his beer right after, smirking, tiLTING His head. I’m sorry this is not straight in any way. I’m sorry you’re gonna have to accept this.

Clipboard Buck. Alright u got me!!! This one’s a lil silly, but so is my life, so it’s fair game. Clipboard Buck is annoying as fuck, he’s so fucking annoying. The entire firefam picks up on this, no one wants to be around,,,, except Eddie. You could argue that it’s bc he likes him as a friend and he’s just indulging …. 👁️👄👁️ sure but he also hides from Interim Captain Han soooo anyway what’s fun about this is how willing Eddie is to comply with everything he says. He’s basically twirling his hair, kicking his feet, smiling & blushing and “check!” 🧍🏽‍♀️ buck is kinky (that is canon e.g the ring cutter) and he gets high on authority and Eddie does backflips to meet his kinks. Exhibit 5 complete.

The Lawsuit Arc acka the first divorce era😔✊🏼. This one makes me rage a little bit because I get really upset at Buck for acting recklessly. Like baby let yourself HEAL. Anyway,,,, onto what brings us here 🥷🏼. It’s canon that the entire team is mad at Buck, they don’t really wanna bump into him, can’t really speak to him,,, but Eddie? Eddie’s filled with wrath. I cannot stress enough the fact that he uses Chris as an excuse “do you even know how much he misses you? how could you! you’re not here”. The way he expresses himself, and we’re choosing to ignore the fact that he HIMSELF misses Buck,, that’s how you talk to someone who has a responsibility with the child, not the fun coworker that randomly shows up @ your house with pizza every once in a while. “I couldn’t even call you to bail me out of jail”. He’s so u p s e t that for the first time they know each other he can’t rely on Buck when he’s hurting and in danger. And pls for the love of Jesus Christ my lord & savior don’t tell me that it’s a 118 thing bc he calls Ronda Rousey to come pick him up 🎅🏻 that grocery store scene is.. interesting.

Eddie Underground. Alright we’re getting serious now guys,,, might as well put on your thinking caps on this one. We all know the story, this isn’t a latest ep recap soooo The wAY Buck’s the ONLY ONE who desperately calls Eddie’s name when he’s fallen underground, amidst the heavy rain and dirt. Listen to me: he starts digging with his hands. With his bare hands I tell you!!!! 😩 Bobby has to physically pull him back as he cries on his lap. Buck is a smart man, he wouldn’t do something that’s completely illogic, he knows he can’t dig him out but he’s so desperate. His voice breaks, he can’t breathe, he becomes impulsive, reckless, impatient. Do I need to remind y’all the reason he wasn’t the one getting strapped to go underground??? “You’re not going down there. So we can have two cut off ropes?” Everyone knows he’s willing to sacrifice his integrity for Eddie bc his life doesn’t make sense without him. “We’ll get him back for you”

The Shooting + “I’ve made u my son’s dad lol”. When Eddie gets shot the world freezes for Buck. He’s left standing there, staring as Eddie’s blood splatters on him. He has to be tackled down. Even then, he’s unable to move, to breathe. He just looks as he bleeds out, and theN he snaps back into reality, bracing himself to go under the truck (foregoing his own trauma - I’ve said this before) and preparing for the amount of strength it’s gonna take to pull him under it. He screams at him to hold on, and later when he manages to pull him inside the truck he tells him he needs him to hang on. He rips his uniform open, he cries and screams,,, then Eddie wakes up, and he asks BUCK if HES okay. Bc he saw blood :( also as @butraura pointed out, he can’t die if Buck’s dying bc what about Chris? He only lets himself drift off when he knows Buck’s okay. Then we got The Will Reveal™️ also so unhinged. “You knew I wouldn’t turn it down” right what is this guys??? That was a year ago. He added him to his will A yEaR aGo. Idk about y’all but I haven’t added my friends to my will😀 also Buck’s the one who tells Chris ??? (I’m being very brief on this subject). Also “Because, Evan” shut up🧎🏽‍♀️

& 10. The Lightning Strike + “She sees me”. I’m doing these together bc I haven’t watched this episodes yet but I’m an addict so I’ve spoiled myself to the brim. The way Eddie screams Buck’s name, the way he saves him, “do more” h e l l o ?? The absolute PAIN in Eddie’s eyes, “you died Buck” “3 minutes and 17 seconds”, “his humor hasn’t changed” & the fact that he listens to Buck on his super genius math theory. And then Buck goes and says “I feel like Natalia sees me” ok. I mean my feelings mean nothing but Eddie’s face ??? That’s a man that knows he’s waited too long.

I rest my case. I’m missing a lot of scenes (like a lot omg Abby comes back, Buck under the Truck, Buck vomiting blood, the Taylor Arc) & y’all can argue in the comments about them, or add shit or try to dismantle mine, honestly the floor is yours idc wHat u do, just know you won’t convince me otherwise 🤸🏽these two are in love & that’s pretty much that on THAT. PERIOD.

#I’m sorry for this long ass post #buddie #911 fox #evan buckley #eddie diaz #911 #911 tv show #buck x eddie #evan buck buckley #buck and eddie #911 abc #buddie drabble #buddie ship #evan buckley x eddie diaz #evan buck buckely #buck/eddie #911 buddie #buddie 911

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eternalbuckley · 1 year

Text

My heart chose you. - evan buckley

SUMMARY: Look at this wonderful request.

word count: 3,311

genre: fluff, comfort | gn!reader, queer!reader, bipoc!reader and plus-size!reader friendly

warnings: a tiny bit of angst, sexual comments about reader + explicit language, cat calling (once?), disgusting men, use of y/n a few times, buck is readers first boyfriend/kiss/etc., established relationship, slight description of how buck met readers parents for the first time, readers mum accuses buck of only using reader, mention of alcohol, use of pet names (babe, darling, [my] love), insecure buck, mention of thunderstorms, english is not my first language, hardly proofread — if i forgot something, please let me know!

a/n: Thank you for this awesome request! I had so much fun writing it and I hope everything fits perfectly. This is the first request I’ve ever done and I hope you all will like it as well!! Happy reading 🫶

disclaimer: please do not repost or try and take ownership of my work or post this anywhere without my consent. do not translate my work and post it anywhere — i give you no permission to do that. i only post my stories here, so if you find my work anywhere else please let me know! reblogs, likes and comments are appreciated and welcomed!

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The topic 'love' was never an easy one for you. You were sure you never even felt what real love felt like, you always ran away from it whenever you felt it would start to get too intimate with possible partners. You weren’t even sure if you ever loved anyone, maybe you had crushes before but not too deep. Sure, you had a few people you texted with before but it wasn’t just it. You never got to the point to go on a proper date with them. The reason why you ran away were your parents. It was always hard for you while you still lived with them. You had to listen to their constant arguments about every tiny bit they weren’t on the same page with their opinions. You spent a lot of time in your room and tried to ignore their voices. You were scared that you could end up the same way with your partner.

That was until you met the infamous Evan 'Buck' Buckley. He immediately stole your heart the first time you saw his smile directed towards you. Buck and you met through your mutual friend, Eddie. You knew Eddie through Shannon. You wouldn’t say you were really close but you were close enough that he invited you to one of the dinners at Athena's house with the whole 118 and her family. That‘s where you also met Buck within everyone else that is important to him.

Buck and you didn’t talk for the first few hours, only sending each other a few glances. Until he approached you with the smile you fell for. He made you laugh and he liked your laugh. The chemistry was there between you. You just wouldn’t have expected to fall for him. The more you got to know him in the following months, the more you fell for him without realizing it.

Once he asked you out on an official date, things worked out well for you. From opening up to him and trusting him with the things that matter to you the most up to having your first kiss with him. You didn’t want to run away anymore, you wanted to stay. To stay with Buck and he felt the same about you. He deeply cared for you even way before you officially started to be in a relationship or officially dated. Buck wanted to make you as happy and comfortable as you‘d ever feel. He fully understood your way of life and why you ran away from love. And he understood how it was to have struggles with your parents, that‘s why you both knew how to comfort each other even more.

You understood each other. Everyone who would see and watch you would immediately notice the love that was lingering between you. You knew each other so well and knew what the other one needed. It felt like you were in sync with each other. The whole 118 admired both of you and once you and Buck announced that you two were together, they supported you both. Secretly they already knew but wanted you to officially say it out loud.

Of course, this relationship came with a few insecurities. You were scared you‘d do things wrong since it was your first relationship and Buck not wanting to make you feel uncomfortable or overwhelmed. But neither of these happened. Buck was excited to be your every first. From your first proper date, first kiss, and everything else. You were strong together. Especially once you moved in with him.

Two years later, the big day was there. Buck wanted to propose to you. Trying to plan it perfectly. He asked Bobby and Athena to help to pick out the perfect ring for you, the price didn’t matter to him. And he knew it wouldn’t matter to you as well, as you‘d even take a sugar ring. You made a few jokes before about it, the first time you did Buck realized he definitely wanted to spend the rest of his life with you. He couldn’t imagine his future without you. You were the love of his life. And he was yours.

The moment he was kneeling in front of you with a box, you knew what would happen. You already knew your answer. You could never say no to Buck. Over the years you were together with Buck, your insecurities and fears of having a relationship like your parents had washed away. You even were ready to marry, as long as it was Buck that would stand at the altar with you.

The whole scenery was perfectly decorated, just like how you liked it. After all, Buck knew you and seeing how you admired everything, made him proud of himself. And happy as well. After he asked you, "Do you want to marry me, my love? And spend the rest of your life with someone like me?" You didn’t answer him and just fell down on your knees to kiss him. He immediately realized what it meant and the biggest smile appeared on his lips. Tears built up in both of your eyes and after he put on the ring on your finger you shared many more kisses and laughter.

"You‘re unbelievable, Buck." You whispered against his lips.

"I love you."

A few weeks later you announced your engagement to the rest of the 118, who of course supported you. After you found out that Bobby and Athena helped Buck to pick out the ring, it meant even more to you and made you more emotional. You knew how much they both meant to Buck and you were so happy that Buck has found his family. Maddie seemed to be the most excited one in the whole group. She always had the fear Buck would never find the perfect match for him until she met you and immediately knew how happy you made him. You got along with her very well and you were already planning to ask her to be your bridesmaid. You just didn’t know when to ask her but there will still be enough time to figure that out.

Telling your parents about the engagement was not the easiest part on the other hand. They were not very fond of Buck himself. Especially your mother. The first time they met him they were distant, your father not that much though. Your father just warned Buck about him leaving and hurting you. Or else it wouldn’t be pretty for Buck. That was everything your father said about it. Your mother on the other hand openly told Buck that she already knew that he would leave her soon anyways as soon as he slept with you. You defended him but it was useless against her. Everything she said had to be right, she would never say anything wrong. Even though her ‚prediction' never came true.

They tried to show their happiness but you knew it was hard for them. You didn’t even want to imagine them at your wedding, especially since they weren’t able to stay in the same room for five minutes without fighting. You weren’t sure if you wanted them to be at your wedding anyways.

————

"Babe, have you already checked the e-mails?" Buck shouted from the kitchen table.

He was currently on his laptop while you were getting ready for dinner at Eddie's house. You haven’t seen him and Chris for a few days now and Buck already told you how Eddie would tell him the whole time about how much Chris misses you.

"I haven’t. Is there anything in for me?" You fixed the clothes you were wearing and came down the stairs. You both shared your mail app on the laptop.

Buck looked up and admired you. You were breathtaking.

"Don‘t stare," you chuckled and slightly swatted his arm while passing him to get a glass of water.

"I can’t resist, darling. You‘re too beautiful you know that," he smiled and looked back at his laptop. "There‘s just this one here for you."

You got over to him and leaned against his side to look at the e-Mail. While you were reading it Buck started to play with your fingers. It was an invitation from one of your old classmates in college, people you didn’t really want to meet again in your life. It was not like you disliked them but you were at a whole different point in your life than you used to be in college.

"Just delete it," you told him while he still played with your fingers.

He looked up to you but your eyes were glued on the screen. "You sure?"

You sighed. "I don’t know if I want that, Buck."

Buck pulled you into his lap and you leaned your head against his shoulder. "It’s okay. You don’t have to if you don’t want to, you know that?" He tried to reassure you. You just nodded your head and didn’t say more.

At the same very evening, you told him you‘d decided to go to this party with your old classmates. He asked you if he should come with you but you told him he didn’t have to. Buck wasn’t feeling good about that, he was worried. He saw how unsure you were about going to this party earlier that day. He didn’t say anything more but he knew he would go with you anyways. He didn’t want to let you go there alone.

Two days later he was standing in the hallway, waiting for you. He hasn’t told you yet that he was going with you but you already assumed it would lead to it. And you didn’t mind, instead, you were happy that he didn’t listen to you this time. He smiled at you when you came down the stairs, looking beautiful like always.

"What are you doing?" You asked him after you took his hand, which he had extended to you.

He smiled at you. "I‘m going with you to that college party."

You smiled back at him and kissed his cheek. "I love you so much."

He held your hand the entire time while you walked down to his jeep. The car drive was quiet but nothing you or Buck had to be worried about. Once you got into the location you were greeted by two of your old roommates that were already a bit tipsy from the alcohol. They offered you and Buck a glass but you both declined. You were not in the exact mood to drink and Buck had to drive.

Both girls were already swooning over Buck and asked you many questions about him. Who he was, how you met and if you‘re together. Once they discovered the ring you were wearing, they hugged you happily. And maybe they let out a few screams. You laughed at their reactions. Buck in the meanwhile was watching you from a few feet away. It already has been two hours since you two were there and he was happy to see you feeling more comfortable than you used to be in the beginning.

A guy came up to him, smelling like alcohol but only because someone else threw a glass on him on accident. "How di’ you do it mate?"

"What do you mean?" Buck was confused.

The guy nodded in your direction, in that exact moment you were talking to the two girls from earlier. "Them. How did you get them out of their zone? D‘you have superpowers or somethin‘." He laughed but Buck didn’t know what he meant.

The guy noticed the confused look on Buck's face and sighed. "The whole time in college I tried to gain the attention of Y/N but nothing. Nothing ever happened. I mean… Look at them. They‘re fuckin‘ hot as ever and all the things you‘re able to do with them. Things no one ever had the chance to do in college, man. Even the others had no chance. The guys call you the superhero, bro. You‘re a legend for having them in your bed."

Buck slowly nodded his head and looked back at you. He now questioned why you chose him if you apparently could have anyone. Sure, he knew your whole story but how did he get to be the lucky one and get to experience the love you had within you? But on the other hand, the words of this disgusting guy next to him made him stiffen his body and Buck got angry about how this guy talked about you.

"Kind of disappointing that I‘m not the lucky one and chose you instead though. They‘re probably so good in bed, huh? Wish I could have the chance to experience tha-" The guy mentioned and immediately held up his hands after Buck quickly looked at him, not pleased, "Hey come on, man! I was just joking." He didn’t even finish his first sentence.

Buck knew it wasn’t just some sort of joke but he didn’t want to cause any drama and let this guy go back to his friends. Now it was Buck who didn’t feel very comfortable, knowing he probably has the attention of all the guys that were standing a few meters away from him.

A few moments later you approached him with a big smile but that quickly vanished once you noticed his stiffness and stern look on his face.

"Babe, is something wrong?" You carefully caressed his cheek and looked at him. You were worried.

"Don’t worry about me, enjoy your time, love."

You shook your head. "I wanted to go home anyways but what happened? Did someone say something to you?"

His eyes wandered to some of the guys that were standing at the bar and you knew who they were and sighed. You took his hand and were ready to leave.

"Ignore them. They’re assholes. In college, they wanted to get in bed with everyone including me. But I never gave them any attention and they despised that," you mentioned.

"Hey Y/N!" One of the guys called over and waved at you. Which caused you to roll your eyes.

Even after all these years, they were still behaving like children. They never grow up and you don’t want to know how many people they tried to hook up with.

"One of them still wants you."

You quickly looked over to the guys that were still kind of looking over to you and Buck. "Let me guess.. A bit taller than you? Brown eyes and a buzz cut that looks weird on him?" You looked back to your boyfriend and disgust was written in your face.

Buck nodded his head. "Yeah. He told me about the fantasies he has about you." He looked angrily to him.

"That‘s Connor. The biggest jerk I‘ve ever met," you took his hand, "Let‘s get out of here. I can’t fucking stand them. They’re still as horrible as they used to be." You walked out with him.

You still held his hand while you were walking over the Bucks jeep. "Back in college they always tried to get me in bed, after a while they started to place bets on who would be the first one to win me over," you sighed, "Especially Connor."

Buck sighed and nodded his head and went in to hug you after you got to his jeep. You immediately hugged him back and kissed his cheek. Both of his arms were strongly around you, signaling he really needs this hug in that moment. After a few moments, he let go of you.

"Let‘s get away from here." You both said at the same time and ended up chuckling.

You both got into Bucks jeep and immediately drove home. Back home you both changed into your pajamas and got into your bed. You both didn’t talk about the encounter again but it didn’t leave Buck's mind at all. Even after you already fell asleep, he was still wide awake. Connor's words didn’t leave his thoughts. Buck was thinking about why you chose him. Out of all the people that live on earth, why him? How was he the luckiest person to have you?

It was already 3 am and Buck was still wide awake, staring at the ceiling. He didn’t even realize it started thundering. He only did when you cuddled into his arms - you always did that while thunderstorms because you felt the safest in his arms.

"Buck…?" You mumbled, still sleepy, "Why are you awake?" You yawned.

He kissed the side of your head while you snuggled into him even more. "I‘m fine don’t worry about me. Go back to sleep, babe." He whispered, hoping you‘d fall asleep again.

"Something is on your mind. I can tell," you noticed the sternness in his voice even when you were sleepy. That only awakened you more.

He sighed and put his arms around you. "I‘m just thinking about some unnecessary things."

"Nothing is unnecessary. Tell me what‘s on your mind. Is it still from the party?"

Buck shook his head, "Not really. I just.." He hesitated, "Wanted to ask you something."

You turned around to turn on the lamp on your nightstand, "What is it?" You looked at him, the light wasn’t very bright but you still were able to see his thoughtful face.

"Why me?"

You raised your eyebrows. "What do you mean, Buck?"

He looked into your eyes. "Why did you choose me? Out of all the people, why me? Am I that special?" Buck was feeling insecure.

You snuggled up to him again and kissed his arm. "Because it was my heart that chose you above everyone else." You intertwined your fingers.

"I love you, Buck. I fell in love with the person you are. The first time we met at Athena's place and the very moment you looked over to me with your wonderful smile I just knew I had to get to know you," You smiled at him which he returned, "I guess I just knew you would mean a lot to me and you absolutely do. I‘ve never felt so comfortable and seen like I do with you. Getting to know you and slowly building a friendship and not realizing that I was falling for you created the relationship we have today and will have in the future. I couldn’t be happier. You understood me, no one ever did that before and you were always there for me, Buck. My heart is completely filled with you and will always be yours. I don’t care about what anyone else ever said about you or will say, you‘ll always have my heart in your hands."

Buck had tears in his eyes and pulled you to him to kiss you deeply. You kissed him back and smiled against his lips. His hands were on your cheeks and he kissed you multiple times.

"You‘re perfect, did I ever tell you that?" He looked into your eyes again, his hands were still on your cheeks.

You pretended to think about it but smirked. "Hmm… Only a few times?"

He chuckled and kissed you again. You both got back into a comfortable position and snuggled against each other.

"I just noticed that I never thanked Eddie for basically dragging me to the dinner at Athena’s place." You whispered after a few minutes and chuckled, "We should do that. Without him, I probably would have never met the love of my life."

Buck chuckled and kissed the side of your head. "We definitely should thank him. Guess he‘s the best accidental matchmaker to exist."

You giggled and instead of sleeping Buck and you ended up talking a bit more until you happily fell asleep in each other’s arms.

He truly was your safe place and you were his. It were you and him against the world.

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copperbadge · 5 months

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Radio Free Monday

Good morning everyone, and welcome to Radio Free Monday!

Ways to Give:

feralfxckxr is raising funds for an in-clinic abortion procedure after the initial pill failed to work following an assault. They are offering tarot readings and have friends offering art commissions; you can read more, reblog, and find giving/commission information here.

Anon linked to a fundraiser findingfeather is running to help mythopoetry live safely in Ottawa long enough to get her citizenship finalized and her healthcare needs met after her health was neglected for years during an abusive marriage. You can read more, reblog, and find giving information here or give at the fundraiser here.

lexin linked to a fundraiser for Laura, whose lease is up for renewal; she wants to get out but needs to delay, as her physical health is not good and there's a lot of work that needs to be done for her to be able to move house, and some of that work will need to be something they pay others to do. You can read more and give to the fundraiser here.

Anon linked to a fundraiser for a friend, Angel, who is trying to purchase a recumbent bike; Angel has significant physical restrictions and needs exercise to improve health and stave off future health issues. You can read more and support the fundraiser here.

Stevie linked to a fundraiser for friends Caine and Mary, who are trying to restore their small-town farm; they bought the farm attempting to become more self-sufficient as a queer and disabled couple, but the house needs repairs and they've had a few setbacks, and government aid is slow in coming. You can read more and support the fundraiser here.

Recurring Needs:

loversdoom is a college student from the Philippines, studying away from her family, and her parents are unexpectedly unable to support her education; she is dealing with a number of expenses and is now looking at costly medical procedures as well. You can read more and reblog here or give to the fundraiser here.

onedollopofsourcream is raising funds to help with food, transportation, medication for their family, and other expenses after a string of financial issues; you can read more, reblog, and find giving information here.

rilee16 is raising funds to get out of an abusive home situation; with irregular work hours and a tax debt due on top of chronic illness issues, they also need funds to repair their phone, which is dying, and cover utility bills. You can read more, reblog, and find giving information here.

Anon linked to a fundraiser for their friend dyken, who along with their partner has been having trouble covering bills, food, and mental health treatment; their family is abusive and unwilling to help financially. They are accepting donations via paypal and commissions via ko-fi; you can read more, reblog, and find giving information here.

chingaderita's partner recently lost their job due to a house fire that also destroyed the house; they're raising funds to keep food on the table for a family of nine, to try and get a supply of water to keep clean, and for medications and bills until they can find new work. You can read more, reblog, and support the fundraiser here.

karla-hoshi (Hoshi on TikTok) has been raising funds for cancer treatment for her cat Naku, but unfortunately Naku passed last week. Between Naku's treatments and other unexpected financial issues, they are short funds for the last lab tests and for cremation to help make the loss easier; you can read more, reblog, and support the fundraiser here.

And this has been Radio Free Monday! Thank you for your time. You can post items for my attention at the Radio Free Monday submissions form. If you're new to fundraising, you may want to check out my guide to fundraising here.

#radio free monday #charity #philanthropy #fannish community

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findafight · 1 year

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Can interest you in a potentially controversial Stobin headcanon in what sounds like a trying time?

If so; Steve and Robin share girlfriend at some point.

Not in the “turns out that time we were both dating girls named Crystal? We were in fact dating one girl named Crystal. Who *somehow* never put it together that my Steve and the Steve she was two-timing me with were in fact the person!”

(This does in fact happen - I’m thinking when Robin’s in college and has met like, three different Crystals (one of whom has parents that lived in the same commune as Robin’s! Such a shame girls named Crystal have been *ruined forever*).

It’s a pretty surreal break up for Crystal; not only are her boyfriend and girlfriend turn out to be actually best friends (in her defence, Robin has taken to calling him “Stevie” at this point and the way she talks about him really conjures the image of a standard preppy bitch who’s been Robin’s best friend since kindergarten, and Steve (in retaliation) tends to use “Rob” and “Robbie”, leading Crystal to believe his Robin is male), and seem almost as angry about this as they are about the infidelity.

Crystal’s attempts at explaining herself and apologising result in Steve retorting that he’s not even mad that she’d want to date Robin - Robin’s fucking amazing! If Crystal had just told him that was what he wanted, he probably would have been okay with it - which Crystal takes as Steve being a bitch, but is something Robin will point later as her realising that this is something she might be okay with.)

Anyway, I figure this is something that would happen when they’re in their 20s and/or their 50s. They’re either approached by a woman who thinks they’re a couple (“does it make our marriage more or less of a sham if we’re sharing a mistress?”) or they approach someone they both have a crush on a la Troy & Abed asking out the librarian.

I don’t think either of them would identify as poly, per se - it’s very much “if it’s you, it’s okay”, and if the girlfriend breaks up with one of them, it’s assumed she’s breaking up with both of them.

I just kind of like the combination of Robin and Steve as Platonic Life Partners, trying to figure out polyamory and just how absolutely Buckwild (Robin’s Wrestler name!) it would be for their [potential] girlfriends and anyone on the outside of the situation. Jon and Eddie just sat there, listening to Steve ramble about the situation bc it’s Robin’s date night and just…bluescreening. Argyle smiling and nodding “happy for you, man. I mean, sucks you’re off the market, but glad you’ve found something that works”.

one yes always interested in controversial takes tbh. two. omg yes exactly you are so smart anon

The Crystal situation!! so true this is absolutely something that would happen to stobin (also true I know a few queer women called crystal). bad luck in love that's them!!

I think Steve is like. mostly monogamous...unless his gf/partner is also dating Robin. like it would make sense to him I think. He'd be like well. this way we don't have to worry you things being weird about my Very Normal Friendship With Robin That Some People Thing Is Weird!

I think I've mentioned before the funny scenario of stobin going "hey me and my platonic life partner saw you across the bar and liked your vibes" and I stand by that.

But also funny is that Steve or Robin's girlfriend being absorbed into their dynamic and realizing that she is..... sort of dating both of them? And her being the one to bring up dating the other and Robin and steve going well how would that change things? and everyone realizing that it would probably only change the amount of kisses gf gets and going well that sounds cool let's try it!

Maybe in their 20s it doesn't work out but they try again in their 50s and they go wow! this was a great idea we were just young and it just didn't work out.

that's so fun. I want them to have crazy dating stories. I want Jonathan and Eddie to sit there going what the hell are these two doing? because the complexities of stobin's dating lives have always confused them even before the poly V started, and argyle just vibing listening to the double date night shenanigans he's being told.

#findaanswers #steve harrington #robin buckley #platonic stobin #stobin #qpr stobin #omg but older stobin reconnecting with vickie............rekindling that flame with Robin and Vickie being like okay steve is cute too and #these two are a package deal.... hmmmm

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ace-and-the-rpg-horrors · 3 months

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my Iori, Mio, Arata and Souma headcanons as i'm very normal about the idea of all of them being friends!!

the four of them often hang out in Weekend Garage, usually after STANDOUT and/or Gurney Flap have finished a show, where they have dinner and hot drinks, chat with Ken and play cards. Mio and Souma are particularly good at cards. Arata cheats in half the games by distracting Mio to glance at her cards which makes Iori kick him under the table

Iori and Arata being twins is everything to me. Iori is the older one by a few minutes and she is So Smug about it. she will never stop holding it over him. she calls him her "baby brother" which irritates him quite a bit. she also gets to be slightly taller than him. as a treat </3

Iori keeps her surname private from STANDOUT's fans because she doesn't want people to know she's related to Arata LMAO. some of the Vivid Street residents who are fans of her band often ask her about her resemblance to him but she always gaslights them for fun i mean denies it

the siblings steal each other's microphones all the time. and clothes. and jewellery. and hair products. and eyeliner. and desserts. it is an absolute nightmare for their parents to keep track of whose laundry, shopping and food is whose

Iori, Arata and Souma went to Kamikou, and their year group was the first one to attend the school, since it was constructed so recently. Mio went to Miyajou. Iori was definitely heaps of girls' queer awakenings when she was in highschool. extremely popular due to her style, charming personality and music

Iori was always good with Maths and the various sciences, but did poorly in subjects such as Literature and languages, because she struggled with spelling. Arata was the opposite as he couldn't deal with numbers for the life of him, but had a skill for writing. for this reason, they often swapped their homework- Iori did all of Arata's that involved calculations, and he did her essays. they only found out as adults that Iori's dyslexic and Arata has dyscalculia. currently, Iori's bandmates always help her out with proofreading lyrics

Mio's canon hobby is collecting teddy bears, so i imagine her to be very into the cute aesthetic, very much a Sanrio and Sumikko Gurashi girlie. however, she absolutely adores creepy-cute aesthetics too, so her overall favourite teddy bear brand is Gloomy Bear. Mio likes horror in general. she loves gory movies, she adores creepy RPG games, especially if there's themes of dolls and such

because she's so fond of her teddies, she's learnt how to sew so she can make them clothes and bows. Mio can also bake extremely well and brings homemade snacks when all of them hang out- especially when Souma was in the hospital. saving him from hospital food <3

Mio likes to decorate her bass with cute stickers but tries to be subtle about it because she's conscious about "clashing" with the vibe of the rest of the band. Iori is not having any of that and spoils Mio with every single sticker sheet she ever comes across. eventually, there's barely any visible wood peeking out from beneath the stickers

Souma immediately went "extrovert adopting introvert" mode when he met Mio. the two of them are best friends, and Souma is one of the only people that Mio feels very able to be open and talkative around, because he has such a welcoming and friendly air about him. she introduced him to loads of her favourite media in hopes that he'd have more fun in the hospital, so now there's several manga, anime and games they both love and chat about

Mio and Arata, though, had a rockier start when they first met, because Arata being Arata (ahem, the king of awful first impressions), was blunt and a little rude, which intimidated Mio quite a bit due to her generally anxious personality. however, he then made a bit more of an effort to befriend her as she and Souma are close, discovering that they have some things in common (such as fashion sense. they both own absurd amounts of plaid) and over time, he became pretty fond of her and often jokes that he'd replace Iori with Mio as his sister if he could

Iori loves Souma because he's not nearly as much of an "absolute bitch" as Arata. Iori and Souma like to team up to tease him sometimes, which always has him sulking about the "traitors"

Iori and Arata are relentless about making fun of each other about their relationships with Mio and Souma respectively. Arasouma got together first, and Souma was very encouraging to Mio about confessing her feelings for her bandmate. however, when the twins were alone at home, Arata would be So Fucking Annoying about Mio to Iori. Iomio got together when Mio accidentally walked in on an embarrassed Iori yelling at a smug Arata that she couldn't possibly risk creating tension in her band by expressing her want for a relationship with Mio

Iori and Mio prefer to call their relationship a QPR, as Iori is an aroallo lesbian. Mio is lesbian (and also a demigirl). Arata and Souma's relationship is romantic, Arata being bi ace and Souma being MLM/achillean

Mio and Arata decided to go to uni and end up at the same one. Mio does Art and Design, Arata does Music. Iori did not feel like doing anything more than the compulsory high school and used money for uni to buy a (dodgy and old) pick-up truck instead, which is the friend group's way of getting about. Souma also did not want to continue doing anything academic as his focus upon getting out of hospital is to finally go out, have fun and try to build up his strength for singing again

#this ended up way longer than intended. oops.#ace's random thoughts :)#project sekai #pjsk #pjsekai #proseka #prsk #iori pjsk #mio pjsk #arata tono #souma miyata #iori project sekai #mio project sekai #tono arata #miyata souma

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drdemonprince · 1 year

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That ask about small talk and fear reminded me: a few days ago my partner and I were at our local café. I went to use the restroom and found the toilet seemingly backed up, so went and told a worker since I didn't want to try using it and then make it worse. A random guy who'd been there for a while came over and said "Want me to take a look at it?" We all thought it was Weird and Creepy but he genuinely just wanted to help, and managed to fix it! It was great! He was just a kind stranger wanting to help. And as we left later it hit me how sad it is that fear was our initial reaction. I wish I would've thanked the guy instead of being awkwardly frozen. But it also gave me a little hope and a reminder that most people are just like me, just a person trying to enjoy the life we have and be nice to others.

Yes, I really do believe that if we are invested in mad pride and disabled liberation at all, we gotta take that initial knee-jerk reaction of "this person is weird" or "this behavior is breaking unspoken social scripts" and throw it into the fucking garbage.

No one is a bad person for feeling wary in that way, it is a socially conditioned response -- but it is very dangerous. It's the same kind of thing that leads to people covering their homes in security cameras and calling the cops on children knocking on their neighbor's doors in search of their missing cat. You probably would never do anything of that nature, of course! But it's all part of the same social ideology. And that ideology keeps you isolated and less likely to seek help -- it doesn't keep any of us safe.

Personally I LOVE talking to fucking WEIRD PEOPLE. I spent an hour this summer at a picnic table talking to a tweaked out guy covered in facial tattoos and scales about my aura and the psychic journey he was on and shit. It turns out that he was a trans woman in the 1980s but he didn't have the language for it! He was drawn to me because he could tell I was gender-weird too, and because he said I had a very open looking soul. I could scoff at that or I could be afraid of him, but why??? He was fucking cool! he had a ton of fascinating life experiences and is friends with a lot of the other people I see on the streets in my neighborhood. Turned out we were both Aries' and we talked about that a ton too.

I also met a guy in a dusty old cowboy hat in the park by Loyola beach who told me he is the official 'patriarch of the park' and gets to decide who he allows to pick up litter there. He pointed to a very clean-cut white woman stabbing at trash with a stick and a needle and told me that he had given her personal clearance to clean up "his" park. She might seem like a fussy white suburban type lady, he conveyed, but she was interested in making the space better for everyone and wasn't doing any Kareny shit, so she was welcome.

Last weekend I was going to a free concert in Ping Tom Park and edgy 19 year old punk kids danced next to 70 year old Chinese retirees and middle-aged yuppie parents and their toddlers and homeless people and 50 something Mexican old head techno fans and it was the loveliest fucking thing in the world. A guy up the street from the park was selling dozens of old back packs and coats and electronics on his front lawn and I dug through them and chatted before getting there.

Living in a city and spending a lot of time outside, I meet people like that a lot, and my life is immeasurably enriched by it. It makes me sick and sad that so many human beings never get to talk to strangers like this, recoil from homeless people or people on drugs, and fear any stranger's intrusion into their life. I think even a lot of left leaning, queer people harbor these reactions and chalk them up to things like "being afraid of men" or "being afraid of straight people" and we even promote that kind of thinking within our communities at times. I find it very damaging. Some of the most wholesome experiences in my life have been random nice/warm things cishet men on the street have done for me.

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loonybun · 4 months

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ok screw it oc introduction be upon ye

hi guys this is Rosé!!! I do have an in depth thing regarding his relationship with Adonis (another character of mine) and his whole transformation on my other blog so if you’d like to read that in more detail it’s right here.

CONTAINS: Cults/religion/sacrilege (evangelical nature), religious trauma and guilt, shunning, old timey homophobia and religion-based intersexphobia, historic stuff and some fun facts about the 1920’s, verbal abuse, manipulation, coercion, power dynamic (god and mortal), a really shitty partner and a shitter relationship, body horror, chronic illness, attempted suicide (multiple times multiple methods including overdose), rot and decay of the body, and love potions but for all the wrong reasons.

Rosé, formerly known as Roe Labat, was born in 1898 and raised in an evangelical cult. Ironically enough this has actually nothing to do with the wings and whatnot. That’ll come later. Being both intersex and albino, he was never truly accepted by the people around him. Some were kinder than others, sure, but it was all out of pity. In their eyes, he was already damned to an eternity in hell for the simple sin of existing.

He was a very docile and quiet child, rarely ever stepping out of line regardless of circumstances. He lived inside of the church, as his parents didn’t want responsibility of him. From an early age Roe understood that he was not something worthy of love, as even God had forsaken him. He was cared for out of obligation rather than actual genuine love, having religion almost constantly drilled into him.

When he was 18 (1916), he ran away from the cult’s village. He figured that he’d never make anything out of himself within it, and never be able to prove himself. Roe was also sick of being a burden. He had never been able to make friends due to the constant ostracism, and even though the people he was around changed to be a lot more open-minded, this remained a constant throughout his life. He started living in New Orleans and often frequented various parades and bars. Also he learned that he was queer and that messed him up for a bit. Despite being forsaken, he still tried his best to be a good follower given his circumstances, but the more he learned about the world around him, the looser his faith became.

Roe took an eventual interest in the “pansy performers” (drag queens in the 1920’s), though felt a lot of guilt and shame regarding considering the concept as a career. The more he thought about it though, he realized he didn’t have much else to lose.

He was a natural performer, able to say and do just the right things in just the right ways to provoke a positive reaction from the audience. Considering the more niche community at the time, he never really drew in big crowds, but what he had was enough for him to live off of in a nice 3 room apartment. He was able to afford relatively nice clothes for his performances when they weren’t provided, and quickly became skilled at makeup and wig styling. He also began dying his hair (yes hair dye was a thing in the 1920’s) and using mascara and heavier makeup in order to conceal his albinism, just because it drew some unwanted attention here and there. While he rarely encountered any trouble with the law, he had a few close calls given what he was doing was pretty illegal at the time. homophobia am i right…

Around when he was 24-25, he met “Don”, who claimed to be a cab driver, yet was almost always dressed to the nines in stylish and at times anachronistic clothing. They hit it off very quickly, relating over the strange feeling of being isolated from their peers. They started going out together soon after. It was Roe’s first real relationship, especially with another man, so to say he was a bit nervous would be putting it lightly. Regardless, Don was always very kind to him and patient with him. He was a bit suspicious of Don though since he was always very dodgy about his home life and really any personal details, however he just assumed they came from similar situations. Roe did theorize where his money was coming from and thought him to either be a bootlegger or a member of the mafia, though he never brought it up because in full honesty he didn’t care too much. He was already head over heels and a little illegal activity wouldn’t stop that.

The last thing he was expecting was Don— or rather, Adonis, to claim he was actually a god. And really really wasn’t supposed to be talking with Roe but just couldn’t help himself. Roe was shocked to say the least, and a little incredulous, but Adonis was very quickly able to prove he was telling the truth. Roe, despite having his entire worldview and years of his life shattered by this one man, decided to try and make things work between them. And it did, for a while. The gaps in Adonis’s visits made more sense now, since he couldn’t be away for too long without the other gods getting suspicious. And it was nice to not have secrets. Roe was able to open up to him about his childhood as well, and Adonis provided sympathy for him.

But good things can’t last forever. As time passed, their relationship grew progressively worse. Adonis got upset over increasingly small things, and while Roe understood his perspective and tried to accommodate him, it didn’t mean he was exactly pleased about it. Adonis began to grow concerned over the prospect of something happening to Roe. After all, he was mortal. Frail. Weak.

His solution to this? Well, get rid of the mortality. Roe wasn’t exactly on board with the idea, considering he quite enjoyed being able to perform and live in the city, and accepting Adonis’s offer would make that nearly impossible. Adonis was persistent though, bringing up the idea at any time despite how many times Roe tried to gently shoot it down. Roe eventually grew tired of this cycle and hesitantly accepted. Adonis claimed that this would make things easier— They could see each other more often, they wouldn’t have to hide, the chances of his whole relationship with a mortal being found out by the one person who could end his existence from breaking the rules moved close to 0, no real drawbacks! for him.

this is where the stuff in the post i mentioned earlier comes in. if you’ve already read it, yeah it gets bad. if you haven’t, here’s the brief explanation.

given the fact that mortal bodies aren’t exactly capable of handling literal godly essence, Roe’s body began to decay and break down. At first, it mimicked some sort of disease. His skin became dry and flaky, and his body felt oddly hot and uncomfortable. Painful sensations overtook his body and became almost constant. By the time things started melting and his organs began to fail, he already knew it was too late to reverse any of this. Any hope of continuing his career or life normally vanished completely. Adonis, however, was very happy about this new development! It had worked! yippee! so so much fun. Of course, he obviously remained as sympathetic towards Roe as possible, regardless of any underlying excitement.

Roe became agitated and frustrated because of the amount of pain he was in and how much he had lost. He wasn’t able to leave the house anymore. He began to snap and lash out at Adonis, picking a fight or making a snide remark whenever possible. Adonis hadn’t exactly seen this coming, but he still kept trying to de-escalate things, often in the form of telling Roe that he was acting unreasonable or hysterical (smart move!). Despite all of this, they stayed in their relationship. Roe was too terrified to be alone, knowing that whatever was happening to him would completely destroy any semblance of respect people had for him, and Don because he wanted to see it through.

Their fights got worse until Adonis finally snapped back, calling Roe an “ungrateful cunt” for not appreciating the love and support he’d oh so generously provided. He made it clear to Roe that nobody would recognize him as human anymore. Nobody would love or care about him. He’d be a freak to anyone other than him, so he’d better stop complaining or he’d lose him too.

This got through to Roe, and he stopped shouting. In fact, even if he wanted to, he couldn’t. It hurt too much to speak, to move, to breathe. Every step was agony. His body had contorted beyond recognition. Was it even worth it to continue like this? Would this be what the rest of his existence was like? Did he really want to live if it meant being in constant, unbearable agony?

Even if the answer was no, he hardly had much of a choice. He tried more humane methods at first. Overdose, drowning in the bathtub, smashing his head against the wall— Nothing worked. He was still alive. He was still alive. Why was he still alive? Was he alive? Was this what it meant to live?

He got more desperate. Stabbing at his stomach, burning his flesh, only it would only leave little splotchy marks that quickly faded. Or so he thought.

The area around the wound he’d made on his stomach began to rot, eating away at any organs or skin or muscle in its path. Eventually, his entire torso from the bottom of his spine to the top of his pelvis was gone save for his spine and a few bits of spare viscera.

When Adonis returned, he wasn’t happy to see what Roe had tried to do. He became incredibly upset with him for trying to leave the relationship in the only way he possibly could. Still, as long as Roe promised to stop, he’d forgive him. Roe obliged.

The fact that Roe wouldn’t talk to him became a source of frustration for Adonis. It felt intentional, spiteful. And it hurt. Every single question was met with a dulled response, as if he barely heard him. As if he hardly cared. It became a bit like spending time with a rock when he stopped responding all together. No matter what Adonis tried, he couldn’t seem to get Roe to react. It was at that point he realized that both physically and mentally, the person he’d fallen for was gone. Far, far deep down, he knew it was his fault. But still, there was hardly any point in staying. Roe would probably rot there forever, and what good would it do to watch over that?

And so he left. Roe realized that it was permanent maybe only a week or so later. Initially, he blamed himself. If he had put in a little more effort, he could have tried to respond, but the pain was too much to bear… The pain— The pain that had begun to fade now. Maybe a month after Adonis left, Roe began to regain his mobility, his strength, and while he was still in pain, it was no longer unbearable. It seemed more like a dull nagging now. The fog that the loneliness and agony had inflicted upon him began to lift as well, and all of that guilt quickly shifted and simmered into pure hatred.

Hatred that the new immortal would begin to inflict upon the world and the ones surrounding it. That would continue to build for years with only the set goal of revenge against the man that had wronged him. And while it cooled over time into a tepid resentment, it never truly faded. He was able to continue with life, though hardly on the same plane, confining himself to a dimension that only certain desperate souls could access. Souls desperate to save their relationships, souls desperate to have their so-called beloveds fall for them, wretched, vile souls. And he’d help them regardless. After all, what’s a worse offense to a love god than bastardizing the craft? Who cares if a few… Hundred lives get ruined? It’s fun to watch. It’s not his turn to suffer anymore. And he won’t be made a victim again.

ANYWAYS more extra info i DONT think i put on the other post but dont rlly wanna check:

Adonis is the god of Lust, Beauty, and Vanity

Roe took on his stage name Rosé after his transformation to distance himself from his past

Rosé has been collecting magic. For what purpose? Let’s not worry about that.

Rosé has the abilities to siphon magic and the life force from people. He doesn’t do this often unless something catches his eye that he wants to harness. It does mean he’s incredibly powerful though.

Rosé’s main abilities he gained directly from Adonis’s essence or whatever include being able to alter the emotions of others (he can force people to think certain ways and even do certain things), pocket dimension stuff, and object conjuring.

Rosé has a lot of side hobbies but his favorite is cooking. He really likes savory dishes, but he also likes sweet things.

Rosé is able to travel between different dimensions and such, and only exists as a “god” in (this) one.

Rosé has built up a reputation among a lot of magical creatures. None of them are quite sure what he is or how he seems to defy certain laws of existence but most see him as a relatively trustworthy supplier for love potions.

Every so often Rosé gets bored and chooses to single people out to mess with. Maybe he should stop doing that.

Rosé is VERY prone to breakdowns, and while he’s mostly able to stay professional, if someone’s around him for a prolonged period of time and something causes him to spiral he regresses into an incredibly different and much more desperate person.

Rosé (name aside) considers himself a liquor connoisseur (RED FLA) and does collect rare alcohols. he does have a tendency to drink heavily but considering his body can’t really process food or drinks it sort of just magically disappears. he is a talkative and very mopey drunk though. like will start full on venting about his life story.

He’s friends with Aisling!!! Friends is a very strong word!!!! Maybe the wrong word!!! But they they hang out sometimes and Aisling seems to enjoy his company a lot even if he can’t really understand why he keeps coming back if not out of fear or trying to use him so he keeps his distance. Aisling is honestly just worried about him and has sort of been able to slowly break down that Rosé maybe isn’t as absolutely terrifying as he first thought and is indeed just very. very lonely and maybe even a bit pathetic

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