#sorry i only talked about four campaigns i need MORE | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dilemmaontwolegs · 10 months

Note

Would you write a dark and toxic romance fic?

For instance, Carlos Sainz has a girlfriend. F1 has an influencer program and invites a lingerie model to a race. Carlos is highly attracted to her, basically on his knees for her. She doesn't want to get involved and pushes him away. Carlos can't stop thinking about her and wants her more every time he sees her. He starts to try and seduce the model. She secretly enjoys his touch and pet names, dirty talks and etc., but stops him every time. Under some circumstance they finally fuck, Carlos is obsessed with making her feel pleasure. After that she's avoiding him but all Carlos wants is more of her. She even prohibits the driver from braking up with his gf. Carlos obey but in exchange wants the model to be his friend with benefits

**Not dark sorry**

Lady in Red (1) || CS55

Pairing: Carlos Sainz Jr x fem!reader Warnings: 18+ only, NSFW, smut, oral, cheating WC: 2.7k

One || Two || Three || Four

You tried to resist him, you really did. You could honestly put a hand on your heart and swear you turned down the advances he made but he was persistent.

“You’re riding with me, hermosa.” You jumped at the Spanish driver's voice in your ear, not realising he had managed to get so close to you without noticing.

“I’m meant to be in Charles' car,” you replied as your heart rate crept up, like his cleverly hidden hand on your ribs.

“Plans changed, now I get you all to myself.”

Each day you found it harder to fight the urge to give into him. The nights left you tossing in an empty bed as you imagined all the filthy things he had whispered in your ear each time he passed. This promotion with F1 and Ferrari in particular needed to end soon or, so help you, the temptation would be too much.

A clap of hands drew your attention away from Carlos and the professional photographer waved you forward to the red sports car waiting for you. You were accustomed to being the envy of the men around you, you were literally paid to lure them in with your body and the lingerie you paraded. This promotion was no different, only it seemed to be working a little too well on one man in particular - a man who was in a very public relationship.

“Gorgeous, honey!” Cristiano blew a kiss as he snapped away on his camera, capturing your poses on the hood of the car effortlessly.

It would have been a lie to say you hadn’t noticed Carlos shuffle his way through the lighting staff and makeup artists to get a better view. You noticed, and you played with fire.

Carlos tugged at the collar of his race suit as his body temperature spiked. He had never been so enthralled by a woman before and he couldn’t let you leave without taking a bite of the forbidden fruit. The way you sat on the hood of his car made his blood race and when you leaned back and spread your legs as you looked to the sky, he swore that he had found the altar to worship on his knees for.

Carlos bit his lip and vowed to take you like that before the campaign was over. He was going to have you, he didn’t care what he had to do to make it happen - there was no price he wouldn’t pay, and everyone had a price.

Cristiano spotted Carlos edging forward, his shadow interfering with the light and snapped his fingers at the man. “You, red man, go to her.”

Carlos didn’t need any encouragement as he strode confidently to his car and looked down at your reclined position with a dark smile. “How do you want me?”

Your lips parted with an answer before you realised he was speaking to Cristiano and snapped your mouth closed but Carlos’ smirk grew. “Do you have something to say, hermosa?”

“I thought this was a lingerie shoot.”

“I can strip down for you, I have no problem with that,” he said as he reached for his collar but you caught his hand to stop him.

“I think your girlfriend would have a problem with that.”

“Then don’t think about my girlfriend.”

“Red man, baby, you’re too stiff. Relax and take a seat,” Cristiano called out, curling a finger for you to stand up. Carlos took your place on the hood and an assistant darted across the track with his helmet. “Okay, honey, turn around and do your thing.”

You inwardly cursed as you faced Carlos and saw your reflection in the tint of his visor, the bright red lace you wore matching his suit perfectly.

“Do your thing, hermosa,” he dared from the helmet as he lifted his feet to the front bumper and spread his knees for you to step between.

You told yourself this was just a job, that the chemistry was purely for camera, as you placed your hands on his knees and arched your back before looking over your shoulder. The sound Cristiano made was pure excitement and he snapped a few shots with encouragement to do more.

“Fuck, you are beautiful,” Carlos groaned as your position thrust your breasts into his line of vision and he all but whimpered when you turned around.

You didn’t have to fake the pleasure on your face when you leaned back against Carlos and tipped your head back onto his shoulder, looking up under your lashes as you bit your lip. Without needing direction, his hands found your hips and pulled you flush against his body and your hand reached up, slipping beneath the back of his helmet to tug the strands of hair you caught.

“How wet are you, hermosa?” he whispered in your ear. “I bet you are absolutely dripping for me.”

You crossed your legs as naturally as you could in the stiletto heels and felt his chest bounce with a laugh. “Don’t be shy now. We are just getting started.”

His hands burned your skin as they slowly rose up your body and you didn’t dare breathe until they reached the cup of your bra and you pushed away from the car. You were at risk of doing something very stupid if you stayed there a moment longer. “What’s next?” you asked the director, silently begging it to be something solo so you could recover from being so close to Carlos.

But your wish was ignored.

“Some hot laps, you’re with Carlos.”

You looked longingly at Stacy who was making her way to Charles’ car but your view was interrupted by Carlos and the arm he threw over your shoulders, turning you to the passenger door. “Ready, cariña?”

“Carlos…” your words died out as he opened the door and gave you a look that dared you to moan his name again so you silently took your seat.

“Open your legs.”

“No!” you gasped before looking at your lap and seeing the seatbelt was nothing like ones you had worn in the past. This one had a buckle between your thighs. “Oh.”

“Don’t act like you didn’t think about it,” he chuckled as he reached for the metal clasp, a hiss of air escaping your clenched teeth when his knuckles brushed over your panties. “It is humid here, isn’t it? Very moist.”

“Oh my god,” you groaned.

“What? I am talking about the weather. Unless you know of something else that is moist?”

“Please stop saying that word.”

“How about wet? Do you like that? You can tell me what you like, I am a very good listener.”

“I would like you to please focus on driving.”

“Relax, I am good at multitasking.”

“Like having a girlfriend and still trying to get my attention?”

Carlos scoffed before closing the door and walking around to his side. “Cariña, I’m not ‘trying’ anything, I had you the moment you walked in my garage.”

“It’s not going to happen.”

The engine started with a purr and your heart skipped a beat as Carlos smirked to himself. “We’ll see about that.”

Your entire body was trembling by the time the car came to a screeching halt at the start of the track. Adrenaline flooded your body and after the thrilling speeds that Carlos had driven at the world seemed to spin too slow. You wanted that heady feeling again, it was addictive.

Carlos had barely paid attention to the track as the sounds that you made drained his brain of his blood and sent it straight to his dick. He took the turns faster so your shoulders brushed with his and he hit the chicanes harder to see your perfect tits bounce in the barely-there bra.

“Dinner, tonight,” Carlos stated as he turned the car off and reached over to the buckle and pushed it in. The plastic pressed to the juncture of your thighs and a moan escaped before you could suppress it and he grinned. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Carlos knocked at your hotel door right on time and you checked yourself over once more before opening it. After seeing how he had reacted to the red Ferrari & I.D Sarrieri lingerie crossover set at the photoshoot, you found an equally racy dress in the same shade of rouge.

“I thought we were going out?” you asked as you saw a tray balanced in his hand.

The look he gave you was truly devilish as he dragged his eyes down your body and back up to your face. “I prefer to eat in.”

He slipped past you and hooked his shoe on the door, kicking it closed. You stared at his back as he walked deeper into your hotel room before he turned and curled a finger, beckoning you to join him in the dining room.

“Shit,” you murmured to yourself as you took a step towards him without meaning to and thought, I’m in trouble.

Carlos placed the covered tray on the table and pulled out a chair before holding his hand out for you. Against your better judgement, you placed your hand in his and let him pull you closer. His arms curled around your back as your hands settled on his shoulders as he smiled triumphantly.

“I finally have you all to myself, hermosa.”

One hand slipped down your back but you couldn’t find the energy to fight his advances as his palm caressed the swell of your ass. You were just trying to figure out how to make your lungs breathe again when his lips stole what little air you had left.

You curled your body against him as his tongue lashed across you lips and they parted on instinct as you wanted more.

“This dress is killing me,” he groaned as his hand travelled further down until he reached the hem and dragged it up over your hips. Cool air kissed your skin that was completely bare beneath the dress. “Looks like you had plans of your own.”

Your head fell back with a moan as his lips sealed over the racing pulse in your neck. “I didn’t want lines showing on the dress,” you lied, because the fantasy of this moment had crossed your mind. You just hadn’t thought about the possibility of letting it go this far in real life.

You felt his teeth graze your skin as he smiled at the lie and his hands gripped your hips before he lifted you onto the table. “What are you…”

Your words faded out as he dropped into the chair and licked his lips at the sight before him. “Eating in.”

You screwed your eyes shut knowing you were going straight to hell with a Ferrari red A pinned to your dress. You screwed your eyes shut as he kissed your left calf and placed your heel on the arm of his chair before doing the same to the right.

“Cariño,” he murmured between the kisses and bites he trailed up your thighs before he lashed his tongue through your folds. “Hmm, you are so wet for me.”

You reached for his thick, dark hair and combed your fingers through it as you gave into the temptation. You tightened your fingers in the strands and pulled him back to where you needed him most. “Hasn’t anyone told you not to talk with a mouthful?”

“Where are my manners,” he chuckled, his breath scorching on your skin. “Let me make it up to you.”

Your head thumped back on the tabletop as he completely devoured you, moaning at the taste of you on his tongue. The chandelier above you was almost as bright as the stars that danced around your vision as the man made a buffet of you. You had never had someone put so much passion into eating your pussy and it showed as your first orgasm quickly built and wracked your body with undulating waves of pleasure that he eagerly lapped at.

“You taste so fucking good, hermosa,” he praised as he lazily traced his fingers along your dripping slit and he rose to his feet. Your mind was in a haze and you smiled dumbly as you looked up at Carlos to see his lips glossy with your come.

“You are a filthy man,” you purred as he swiped his thumb over his bottom lip before licking it clean.

“We’re just getting started,” he teased as he reached over to the tray and lifted the lid. “Strawberry?”

You parted your lips as he dipped the sweet fruit in the tub of chocolate sauce but instead of giving you a taste, he drizzled the chocolate over the swell of your breasts. You didn’t care if it ruined the dress because his lips were on your skin, his fingers pulling the material down to bare your breasts before his tongue swirled around them.

“Fuck, Carlos,” you cried as he sucked your nipple to hard peaks. Your body burned for more, your back arching as your hips rolled in search of friction to ease the ache to be filled. “Fuck me, please.”

He didn’t need to be told twice as he reached into his pocket for a condom before unzipping his trousers. You were impatient, squirming on the table as he tore into the foil and rolled the sheath down his hard length. You sat up at the edge of the table and surprised him as you wrapped your hand around his cock, guiding him to your entrance as he watched on hungrily.

“Take it, cariña, take it,” he grunted deeply as he inched himself into your tight cunt until your bodies were pressed to each other. Your legs wrapped around his hips, your nails dug into his back, your teeth buried in his neck and he cried out your name as he snapped his hips forward.

Guilt ate at you as you dressed the next morning. The evidence of what you did was buried under layers of makeup and you swore it couldn’t happen again. Carlos was in a relationship, that should have been enough to stop you.

But he was persistent.

“Stop, someone might see,” you growled as you put your hand on his chest to stop him getting any closer. He had cornered you in a private room of Ferrari’s hospitality while you reapplied concealer to your neck.

“No ones going to come in here,” he chuckled as he easily brushed your hand aside and pulled you against him. “Don’t you want me to make you feel good again?”

“No,” you lied, your body betraying you as your nipples hardened in the thin bralette you had been scheduled to model. “Go.”

“Your lips say one thing but your hips say another,” he teased. “One touch, cariña, one touch and if you’re not wet for me then I’ll go. One. Touch. Deal?”

“No…”

“Why not?” he asked knowingly.

“Because…”

“Yes?”

You looked away from his darkening eyes and clenched your thighs together. “Because I want you to but you have a girlfriend, Carlos. This is wrong.”

“Then I’ll break up with her,” he offered, like it was the most obvious solution in the world, and pulled his phone from his pocket.

“What! No,” you gasped, grabbing the device. “You can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t want to be the reason, and this was a mistake.”

His hands went back to drawing small circles over your hips and you felt yourself relaxing before you caught yourself and pushed him away. “I’m serious, Carlos, once this promo is finished we aren’t going to see each other again.”

“Then let’s enjoy it while it lasts.” His pout had you sighing in defeat. You had already crossed the line once, did the number of times really matter after that? “I’ll make you another deal, I won’t break up with Rebecca if you have dinner with me again.”

You knew exactly what he meant and exactly what was on the menu but you lied to yourself. “Just dinner,” you clarified as his smirk grew.

“Just dinner.”

Click here for part two.

#carlos sainz imagine #carlos sainz fanfic #carlos sainz smut #carlos sainz x reader #formula 1 fanfic #formula one smut #formula one imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 smut

1K notes · View notes

mariacallous · 20 days

Text

It’s the most startling thing I’ve seen in this year’s presidential campaign – the astoundingly large gap between how young men and young women plan to vote this November. Among women under age 30, an overwhelming 67% plan to vote for Kamala Harris, while just 29% say they’ll back Donald Trump. But among young men, a majority – 53% – plan to vote for Trump, while 40% say they’ll support Harris, according to a New York Times/Sienna College poll. That’s an astonishing 51-percentage-point gender gap.

It’s easy to understand why so many young women favor Harris – she has an inspiring life story, champions reproductive freedom and would break the biggest glass ceiling of all by becoming the first female president. But I’m mystified why so many young men back Trump.

Many of them seem to like Trump’s machismo. They like that he talks tough. They see him as an icon of traditional manhood. But all this raises an unavoidable question: should Trump be looked to as an icon of manhood considering that he boasted of grabbing women’s genitals, was found liable for sexual assault and had an affair with an adult film star soon after his wife gave birth? That shouldn’t be anyone’s model of manhood.

Many young men seem to admire Trump’s king-of-the-jungle vibe: he roars, he bellows, he boasts that no one can ever beat him (unless they cheat). But when you cut through Trump’s tough talk and look at the record, it becomes clear that Trump did very little for young men in his four years as president.

Whoops, I should note that if you’re a young man making more than $1m a year, Trump did do a lot for you, thanks to his colossal tax cuts for the richest 1%. But for the more than 99% of young men who don’t make $1m a year, sorry, Trump didn’t do diddly for you, other than cut your taxes a wee bit, a tiny fraction of the tax cuts that he gave to the richest Americans.

I recognize that many young men feel uncomfortable about the Democratic party, partly because some Democrats unfortunately treat men as a problem – and sometimes as the problem. If the Democrats were smart, they’d see that young men – like every other group in society – have problems that they need help with, problems like affording a home, finding a good-paying job, obtaining health insurance, affording college and having enough money to raise a family.

Regardless of how you feel about Harris, the truth is that her policies will do far more for young men than Trump’s policies will. It’s not even close. She is serious about lifting up young men and young women, and she has plans to do so.

Unlike Trump, Harris will help with soaring rents and home prices. She has pledged to build 3m new homes to help drive down housing prices. In another big step to make housing more affordable, she plans to give a $25,000 subsidy to first-time home buyers. Unlike Trump, Harris is also attacking the problem of high grocery prices – she has promised to crack down on price-gouging at the supermarket.

For many young men, health coverage and high health costs are a problem. On those matters, Trump will only make things worse. He has repeatedly promised to repeal Obamacare. That would be a disaster for millions of young men and women because they would no longer be able to be on their parents’ health plan until age 26. What’s more, repealing Obamacare will push up healthcare prices.

Many young people complain about their mountains of student debt. Trump won’t help on that; he has condemned the idea of forgiving student loans. In contrast, Harris wants to expand Biden’s debt cancellation program, which is hugely popular with young Americans. What’s more, Trump backed huge cuts in student aid – a move that would make it harder for young people to afford college. Harris is eager to make college more affordable by increasing student grants. Not only that, she is looking to what Tim Walz, her running mate, has done as Minnesota’s governor. He has made Minnesota’s state universities and community colleges free for students from middle-class and lower-income families.

If you’re a young man frustrated by how little your job pays, you should know that Trump – doing a big favor for his corporate allies – did nothing to raise the $7.25-an-hour federal minimum wage. Harris strongly supports raising the minimum wage.

Trump has made two big promises to make your life more affordable. Without giving details, he says he will cut auto insurance prices nationwide in his first 100 days in office. He also says he will cut energy and electricity prices in half during his first year in office. If you believe those far-fetched promises, then you’ll probably believe me when I say I have a bridge to sell you.

If you’re a young father or if you hope to have a family someday, you should know that Harris’s policies will do far more for you than Trump’s. Recognizing how expensive it is to raise a family, Harris has called for creating a children’s tax credit of $3,000 per child per year and $6,000 for a newborn.

To improve work-family balance, Harris has long pushed to enact paid family and medical leave so that people can take much-needed paid time off to spend with their newborns or care for sick parents or children. (Most Republicans oppose a paid leave law because their corporate donors oppose it.) Trump doesn’t have similar pro-family policies – his main policy proposals are huge tax cuts for corporations and the ultra-rich and large tariffs on imports that will dangerously push up inflation.

Although many young Americans don’t realize it, Biden and Harris have worked hard to create good-paying jobs for those who don’t go to college. Biden and Harris fought to enact three important pieces of legislation – an infrastructure bill, a green energy bill and a computer chips bill – that will create about 1m construction jobs, factory jobs and other jobs across the US, many of them unionized jobs with strong benefits.

If you’re one of the many young people at Starbucks, REI, Apple or elsewhere who support unionizing as a way to increase your pay and improve your working conditions, you should know that Harris is a strong supporter of unions and enthusiastically backs legislation to make it easier to unionize. But billionaire Trump dislikes labor unions. When he was president, he and his appointees did dozens of things, large and small, to weaken unions and create roadblocks for workers seeking to unionize.

There’s no denying that Trump’s tough talk makes many young men feel good. But tough talk is cheap. It won’t help anyone pay the rent, afford college or raise a family. Harris doesn’t talk as tough as Trump, but her record and her policies make undeniably clear that she will do far more for America’s young men and women than Trump will.

I don't agree with every point he makes here, and I also don't think a lot of young men are voting based on rational and objective things like whose policies will benefit them most. But I still thought this was an interesting read.

217 notes · View notes

wambsgansshoelaces · 8 months

Note

hii! i heart ur headcanons sm, so i was gonna ask if u could right some sibling headcanons (especially with roman) of growing up and getting a chronic illness so we end up unable to work like they do so logan treats us like were useless a lot of the time. sorry if that's too angsty or u don't want to, but if you do thanks you! i have a chronic illness and it would be cool to have comfort characters so comforting and stuff but thanks again! 🫶🏻 have a good day!

(can i become raccoon anon?) - 🦝

anon, I literally love you so much!! and of course you can be THE raccoon lol 🦝

I just want to let you know that if you ever, EVER need support, my ask box and pms are open to you always. I’m here for you, I will be your best friend, whatever it is you need 🫶🏽

thank you so much for requesting, and hopefully I can make this a series for you so that you have representation - if that’s something you want, just let me know xx I will literally write whatever you want me to <3 enjoy 🩷

chronic illness (sib!roys)

ᝰ you’re a difficult to thing to talk about for the roys

ᝰ shiv is the only one who’s ever really defended you to your father

ᝰ kendall and roman still supported you, but were just too afraid of logan to do anything

ᝰ early childhood, connor made sure you took all your meds exactly when you were supppsed to, every single day

ᝰ roman would make up games that you could play that didn’t require you to run or exert yourself to the point where you got hurt

ᝰ you and shiv would read the harry potter picture books together

ᝰ kendall, in secret, would do all of your homework if you weren’t feeling well

ᝰ which was a lot

ᝰ shiv would always convince your dad to let you sleep in or stay home from school certain days

ᝰ roman would physically fight kids who bullied you or were rude at school/on the playground

ᝰ in high school, kendall wrote a five page letter to the principal and got one repeat bully of yours expelled

ᝰ shiv campaigned hard to make school more accessible for you

ᝰ roman still fought people that looked at you funny

ᝰ he tells you one night after getting a bloody lip that he’ll never stop fighting for you

ᝰ it was tradition that if you were bed bound or in the hospital, shiv, roman, and kendall would bring a deck of cards to you so you could all play

ᝰ but as you got older, you all drifted apart

ᝰ first ken moving away for college, the other two following slowly after

ᝰ they kept in contact, sure, but now you’re in this massive house, all by yourself with no one to talk to

ᝰ you did college online

ᝰ and even then, you don’t ever think you’ll really be able to work

ᝰ you avoid your father as much as physically possible

ᝰ he’s always thought you weren’t worth anything

ᝰ you’ve learned not to let it get to you

ᝰ after kendall graduates and comes back to new york to work for waystar, he visits more

ᝰ connor’s been long gone, so now it’s him staying on top of your meds

ᝰ even though you can do it yourself, you let him

ᝰ you know he feels bad for you

ᝰ some dystopian pity

ᝰ you didn’t want to talk about it with him, ever, so you just let him do it

ᝰ things only change after roman graduates

ᝰ even though he’s arguably the most afraid of your father, he came back to new york and made you move in with him

ᝰ “you don’t even take care of yourself, ro,” you tell him one day

ᝰ “so? you’re more important to me. i’m not going to let you fucking be in danger because dad’s a jackass.”

ᝰ he makes sure his fridge and pantry are stocked with solely food you can eat

ᝰ your dad never asks after you

ᝰ but oh well

ᝰ you only ever talk to roman anymore

ᝰ it changes after a particularly bad scare with your health

ᝰ and it’s just like ten years ago, the four of you cramped together on one hospital bed, playing cards

ᝰ shiv and ken never lose touch with you again

ᝰ you walk ken down the aisle at his wedding

ᝰ and at every wedding you attend for your siblings, you’re their person of honor, standing, sitting, whatever you can, right behind them

#succession #succession hbo #wambsgansshoelaces #anon ask #requests open #chronic illness!reader #sibling!roys #reader has chronic illness #the roy siblings

19 notes · View notes

charmac · 5 months

Note

Ack, sorry for babbling in your inbox but god I just saw Rob's comments on Sunny now and it makes me feel ill, and really just sad, I like to give benefit of the doubt too but, jeez. Do you think it's like... when no one else ever takes you seriously, you start to believe them/not take yourself seriously or you just don't have the energy to argue anymore? So the presses, the Emmys, the media, a thousand random strangers say oh that show's still on air? that show should have ended years ago, and after so long only hearing that side of things he feels he has to agree, and it's not a bad joke, it's a fear that that's the truth, the need to jump ahead of someone else telling him it again by saying it first because he knows they're not going to get it, a defense before even being attacked because that's the response expected of him so it's the response he shills out even if he doesn't necessarily believe it deep down? God I hope he doesn't believe it. I didn't hear him say the actual words so I didn't get to gauge tone or anything, but ouch, especially considering old interviews with both him and the others where they talk about how much the show means, and considering even meta commentary in the show itself where they fought back against this sentiment already. (Shaking head disappointedly at him.) (Shaking head approvingly at you vagueing him on twitter)

Mm, yeah, that's an angle I didn't really consider honestly, and I definitely see that. Especially with the Emmys this year and them trying to like, say they're honouring Sunny as the longest running comedy while never even giving them so much of a nomination over the course of their 10+ years of campaigning... And then on top of that, every article written about their appearance at the Emmys called it a "reunion," as if they didn't talk about how they were coming off 16 Seasons... slap in the face on top of that all.

But yeah, I mean. Yeah, you do get told something so often, over and over, more as the years go on, and you do end up jumping ahead of it. But, to me, it still just hurts that there was no "but and," in play. (Maybe it was said but cut? Who knows.) It was just left on that note of "over for five or six years," which felt annoyingly specific to when he met RR.

On the meta commentary, YES, JFC, people on Twitter responding to my Tweet with Big Mo screencaps "did you not watch this episode, they've been saying it's over since Season 14." DID YOU NOT WATCH THE END? Like, lmfao? That is literally not the "gotcha" you think it is in any way at all! You're proving MY point.

Honestly I think it's just like, with TASP not returning and Rob so absent from most of the Four Walls stuff, Sunny being mentioned on his "more proclaimed" project was such an exciting initial prompt, (especially when we saw Glenn and Charlie go over for a match last season) so for it to just be a backhanded remark, or self-deprecating joke at best, was just in the moment extremely offputting and upsetting.. and made me want to turn off the TV and hence spiral a little and huff and puff..

Whatever, you know? Just gotta cut the tether and go back to being cool. A cool guy who hangs out with his cool show on his cool blog. I'm cool. (I know Glenn and Charlie stand by 16, hard, and I know they're excited for 17.)

#ask #rob mcelhenney #this was a good thought! ty #the emmys shit was fun but also whack #how was that like.. only a few months ago jfc

7 notes · View notes

dufrau · 1 year

Text

JUST FUCKING MUTE THEM AND KEEP THE REST IN THE GROUP CHAT. LITERALLY THAT IS ALL IM SAYING. JUST ACT LIKE ADULTS AND NOT LIKE SCHOOLYARD BULLIES. WHAT DO YOU GAIN BY BEING MEAN TO THIS PERSON.

There are four conversations going on here and people want to act like its just one.

Plagiarism. Report it! Eventually it will get taken down if it violated TOS.

You don't like what they're writing. Mute them! Im sorry but this is not a moral issue. People are allowed to write things that upset you and you are allowed to not read it! Nobody is being harmed by fanfiction that they have to go out of their way to read. This is not some mass market campaign this is one person writing stories on the internet, and acting like they are the same thing is absurd. And im sorry but ao3 is a site for amateur writers so calling somebody out for the quality of their writing on there is straight up just unkind and there's no excuse for it.

Tag flooding. Again, mute them! This is at worst an etiquette issue but I think it really comes down to point 2 which is that we only mind it because we don't like what they're writing. If an author you like posted 20 one shots in a day you'd probably be psyched about it.

Bullying. JUST DONT FUCKING DO IT. None of the things above justify this behavior. You can be bothered by them. You can vent to your friends about it privately. You don't have to like this person or their work or interact with it in any way. I'm sorry but it would feel like absolute shit to have an entire fandom of people (including people whose work you love! this person reads our shit! this person is a fan!) gang up on you, and I think you need to consider that this is an actual human being we are talking about here.

If you feel so strongly about preserving the integrity of the tag i suggest writing more of your own shit instead of complaining about what other people are writing. We cant control other peoples actions we can only control our own and some of us are acting like children around here lately and im tired of it.

#i dont want to hear your justifications tbh #you should be looking for reasons NOT to be shitty to people not the other way around #im tiiiiiired #maybe i need to switch to the golden girls fandom where people are closer to my own age

25 notes · View notes

madstars-festival · 11 months

Text

A world view of creativity at MAD STARS: Meta’s Fabio Seidl, & Google’s Artwell Nwaila

Fabio Seidl is director of global creative development at Meta. He has been based in the US for a decade but grew up and spent his early career in Brazil. Before joining mMeta four and a half years ago, Fabio had worked in major international agencies throughout his career – DDB Worldwide, VMLY&R, 360i and Leo Burnett in the US; Ogilvy, McCann and Africa in Brazil.

Artwell Nwaila is head of creative & ecosystem at Google Sub-Saharan Africa. Before joining Google, he worked as creative director at sport broadcast channel SuperSport in South Africa and was the founder and creative director of creative network, SA Creatives. He also worked in boutique agencies such as Offlimit Communications and Straight Twisted.

These two creatives from different backgrounds came together at MAD STARS as members of the executive jury that chose the Grand Prix winners. They share their views on Grand Prix-winning creativity, making great creative work and Asian creativity in a whole world perspective.

[Fabio Seidl]

“We discussed the Grand Prix of the Year for many hours,” Fabio recalls. “And we talked a lot about the message we wanted to leave to the industry. If it was ‘be experimental’ or ‘own your brand’s space’ or ‘show me something I’ve never seen or that I don’t know?’ The latter ended up being stronger. We wanted to make sure that the results showed that creativity, when it is unexpected, is even more powerful.”

[Artwell Nwaila]

“A big focus for me whenever I judge is whether the campaign answers a real brand need or it aims to be creative for the sake of being creative,” Artwell adds. “The magic in the Grand Prix winners is that they are incredibly clever and creative ideas that actually answer a brand need.”

Artwell also believes that to nurture the kind of creative thinking that wins awards and rewards its clients during campaigns, individuals in creative fields should venture beyond their specialised domains. “By this, I mean that creativity thrives when it is fuelled by a diverse range of experiences. This can only be accomplished by creatives actively acquiring new skills. The greater the variety of skills they acquire, the more expansive their worldview becomes, enriching their creative perspectives,” he says.

[Fabio Seidl]

“Collect experiences that are not obvious,” Fabio adds. “Travel, read, meet people, learn what other people don’t know. If you are a new creative but you’re learning from pragmatic formulas, you’re missing your most important asset - a new perspective.”

For any young creatives who think that advertising is an easy career, there is one word – sorry. It’s a tough industry and even tougher when times are hard socially and/or economically. The keys to success right now are also muddied by the rate of change in the world and therefore the industry that reflects it and feeds from it.

For Fabio, one key is mandatory, “Collaboration. And by that I don’t mean ‘everyone is a creative’ which can be inefficient. I mean, ‘bring to the table something only you could think or do’. The industry is tough now because there’s much more to learn every day. Much more information. The audience is fragmented and create their own stories and content. So, we need to partner with talent that can come up with what we would never think: creators, makers, technologists, artists, producers.”

[Artwell Nwaila]

Artwell adds a different kind of collaboration. “I believe that the industry should embrace collaboration with technology rather than viewing it as a competitor. Those who can discover ways to partner with technology are more likely to attain success. Secondly, while technology exerts significant influence across various aspects of our industry, it's crucial to remember that creativity remains paramount. It is we the creatives, not machines, who possess the ability to deliver on that front.”

[Artwell Nwaila]

Artwell also gave a talk called Leveraging Data to Amplify Creativity in Advertising in which he described the power of data for success in a tough industry. “The main highlights focussed on the importance of moving away from assumption based creative development and move towards data driven creativity,” he says. “Consumers are bombarded by more than 5000 marketing messages a day and therefore it’s important to use strategies that make campaigns stand out and deliver return on investment. A point I wanted to land in the talk is that creatives don’t need to be data scientists. Accessing data can be as simple as using Google trends.

“Creatives need to be more curators than ever,” he adds.

Both creatives were impressed by the Asian work they saw at MAD STARS, especially work that was embedded in its local culture.

[Fabio Seidl]

“MAD STARS’ highlight for me was to see the regional insights working to bring great ideas to life. It was wonderful to see the harmony between simplicity, ingenuity and craft that only Asia can build,” Fabio notes.

[Artwell Nwaila]

Artwell was also struck by the powerful way in which local insights were used. “Based on my observations at MAD STARS, it's evident that the Asian creative community is not just aligned with the global community but, in some instances, leading the way. What particularly impressed me was the emphasis on authentic localization, where creatives craft content tailored to specific regions and address their unique needs. This approach signifies the future of marketing, marking a departure from the era of one-size-fits-all campaigns.”

#festival #advertising #busan #marketing #creative #digital #madstars2023 #madstars #awards #award #jury #judging #creative solutions #google #meta

3 notes · View notes

other-peoples-coats · 2 years

Note

coats hello!! you said you played ttrpgs, but do you have any favorite systems or rulebooks?? also do you have any recommendations for how to start a campaign / one shot and bring everyone into the game? that's kind of. the most difficult thing for me personally to do so I'm looking for advice skdjskns

Hi nonny!

My fave systems/rulebooks are a bit of a grab bag; I started playing tabletops with the classic DnD (4e is what I learnt on; the group I played with played some of the beta rules of 5e for a bit and then swapped wholly over to 5e eventually, once it, y'know, was published.), and I also played a bit of pathfinder, which, like, y'know, not a huge jump there. So I've got, y'know, nostalgic affection for both of those.

(for not table top nerds - pathfinder is literally DnD edition 3.75 - it's built off the rules of 3.5, with the names scrubbed off for not-getting-sued-out-of-existance-by-WotC reasons)

That said, I've had a lot of fun with the Cortex system - the Leverage RPG runs on it, which is a fuck of a lot of fun to play with the right group, though you do need people who are at least somewhat genre savvy and willing to lean into it-- and the FATE system, which, special shout out to 'under the table', which is a prohibition-esque take on authurian legend that is just. so sexy as a world building idea. so much fun to fuck about and do organised crime in. Some of it's a bit janky but what is ttrpg play if not jettisoning that which does not vibe with you.

(I also taught a class using a stripped back version of the fate system, so, y'know, bonus points there; we picked FATE cause it is literally so easy to pick up for newbies and doesn't need Weird Dice)

Annnd then we get into the weeds of sort of obscure/only kind of ttrpgs as classically thought of. My favourite fucking thing in this space is a game called 'the quiet year'; it's half a card based rpg, half a map making game, about a community after the collapse of civilisation. You get 52 turns -- a year -- and at the end the winter kills you all. Which is a bit grim, but it's a lovely, thoughtful game to play.

Similarly, 'dialect' is just...such a fascinating game to play. (possibly, this surprises no one who's shown up here via my ao3; I do love weird language shit). You play as part of an isolated community, and...well, create a dialect for that community, based on events they (you) experience.

And then my final one in this space is a game called microscope, which is...well it's really only kind of a game at all. It's more of a worldbuilding tool, honestly, but it's fun, and it's a great way to come up with some weird ass shit you can then use for a homebrew world.

Ok, so, that's a grab bag of weird ass shit that probably says a lot about me; lets talk about starting games and getting people into them. I'm sort of assuming you mean, like, narratively, not like, the mechanics of finding a group to play with or like, how to organise a session.

(if yes, that's what you mean: sorry bud, on your own there, I haven't had a group to play with since pre-plauge, and most the people I'd play with these days are approximately 10-14hrs behind me in time, which makes scheduling.....hard.)

Anyway.

Starting off a oneshot or a campaign is...honestly it's pretty similar, in my experience; a oneshot does compress the time frame somewhat bc you don't wanna spend an hour being like 'worldbuilding lore drop time' and/or 'plot hook baiting' when you're only playing for like. four hours total, y'know?

If what you're looking for is an inciting incident; some sort of 'hey here's a MEATY PLOT HOOK GO FETCH' sign for your players: the classic is, ofc, 'you meet in a bar'; there's nothing wrong with that, it gives a nice bit of space for players to introduce themselves either explicitly - 'I'm Longfang, a hunter from clan blackthorn' sort of thing - or implicitly, in the 'lurking around in a corner ala strider' school of character intros. Also a fairly easy way to set the tone - is the bar Notably Sketchy, what else is going on in the bar, are the patrons gregarious or all suspicious, etc.

(obviously, you can theme as appropriate for your world; maybe it's a cafe, or a market, or the guild halls, or a freighter bay.)

Other great inciting incidents that are endlessly adaptable:

You all wake up In A Place (where you were not before) - classic mystery hook. A group of strangers are brought together by Mysterious Forces, and need to a)get out of where they are b)investigate what happened and why they are all here. Bonus points if you have a mole; one player who knows — or thinks they know — why they've been chosen(they're secretly part of a gang, they're secretly royalty, they recognize the markings as The Cult That Killed Their [insert relation here], etc.) Extremely fucking funny to make every player think they know, and set up the spiderman meme when all your players stumble over revealing whatever secret they have.

You all have A Job. Another classic hook - you've been hired to [take macguffin/person] to [place]; you've been hired to [steal thing] from [fancy bitch party]; you've been hired to clear [local basement/dungeon] of [rats/monsters]; etc. Nice easy set up, very basic 'this is Why You Strangers Are Together'. Does require you to have players who will like, take the hook, even if they take it and then immediately wander off to do something else halfway through. The person who hired your players may or may not be a person in specific - it may be A Guild Job, and your players all just got assigned together, or they're having their Normal Bitch Lives travelling coincidentally together and then oh no a monster attacks your trade caravan roll initiative!

Fucked Up Shit Happens, What The Hell. This is the one where you wave the plot hook at your players and are like 'damn that was crazy!' and then let them be like 'shit that was crazy, can I investigate that?'. Obvious ones here are: oh god a body where there should not be one, oh god no body where there should be one, someone rich is doing something sketchy (and your players saw some of it), weird magic/tech shit happened and yr players are the only witnesses. Worldbuilding for this is a lot of contrast - being like 'x is a Weird Thing' helps show, like, what isn't weird, if that makes sense? so like, in star wars, no one is surprised when jedi pull out their lazer swords, so the viewer knows this isn't 'holy fuck you have lazer swords???' situation; on the other hand, when the demogorgon comes clawing out of the wall in stranger things, all the characters shit bricks and the viewer is aware that like, This IS Fucked Up Shit Happening. (obviously, it's a bit more complex than that in context; what I'm getting at is showing NPC reactions to [plot events] helps tell your players about the world.)

Run before the Plot gets you. This is basically a variation on living normal bitch lives -> surprise roll initiative, where your players have Witnessed Something, and now need to Get Fucking Gone before [whoever] Makes Them Gone. Maybe they want to investigate, maybe they don't and the plot is coming for them anyway, but either way, Someone (or something) is trying to find them, and silence them. Sets up a very nice cat and mouse, if you're into that sort of thing - maybe your players saw local prince eating a person, and now they're trying to reveal that the monarchy are all fucking vampires without becoming vampire chow themselves, maybe they're just trying to avoid the government making them sign a bunch of magical NDAs. Very nice way to drop a bit of worldbuilding, because power structures tell you a lot about the world - are the cops corrupt, is this unusual, who's in charge and what's the social contract look like, if you fuck up and get caught are you looking at state sanctioned execution or imprisonment or a quiet knife in an alley, etc.

Nine plot pile up. This one probably has an official name; I always called it this in class, because, well, I think I'm funny. This is the one where your player('s characters) all have their Own Goals going on, and whoopsy, they all overlap! Either they overlap like they're the same goal, 'we might as well work together to Do X', or they overlap like 'I'm trying to steal the orb of magic from the same guy you're trying to kill and wow this is awkward, they need him alive to answer for His Crimes.' This one is a bit more work; you do have to talk a bunch with your players about what sort of character/plot they want to run for their specific character, and keep track of that as well as like, your overarching plot.

For an example: I once played a warlock who had a creature companion that got stronger as I fed it the corpses of defeated enemies, but those had to scale with us; my warlock pact required me to keep feeding it, which ended up with me having to choose between giving up my powers or slaughtering my party-mates after we'd levelled high enough. The main plot of the game was your standard war between kingdoms/gods sort of dnd plot; my character's plot was just… one of the background plots goin on. Another party member was secretly using the party to cover their hostile takeover of their family company; a third was basically a catch me if you can sort of conman who got in way the fuck too deep. The inciting incident for us was being hired by the local king to go Do War Shit (aka You Have A Job); my character had signed up bc war is great for corpses, hostile takeover had signed up bc their family company supplied War Stuff, and conman "signed" "up" and accidentally ended up assigned to do work instead of being left to fuck about with (and steal) supplies.

Also, just generally — fucking steal that shit. Steal like it's your job. Steal like you're in the british museum and all the security just flipped off. Got a movie you like? how's it start, what can you lift from that. Got a book you like? the first ten pages are yours now. If there's an scene or two in a show you like, think about why you like it, and then…copy it. 'My city now' your way through it; for all there's different considerations when it comes to writing the whole of a game, the opening is basically the same as any other story - hook the reader/viewer/player, make them want to find out what happens next. Starting in media res is a time honoured tradition for a reason; work out what your plot is, and then start your players about five minutes after it starts going off the rails, narratively speaking.

If you're looking for worldbuilding advice, though— or, rather, introducing people to your world — well, that's a lot shorter. Throw it at them! drop them right the fuck in. Let them pick it up as you go along - if you're starting in a city, describe the city. Is it cobblestone? are the skyscrapers so tall they vanish into the smog? are the crowds bustling, or are they harried, darting from place to place in fear. When all else fails, go off the five senses - what can your players see, what would they notice? what would they find unusual - their characters, that is. If you're playing in star wars, you wouldn't be like 'HOLY FUCK LAZER SWORDS EXIST???' but you might be like 'oh wow a jedi, I didn't think I'd ever see one in real life!', and 'oh there's a droid' is like, 'oh, a chair'. You might call out that it's a weird chair, maybe, but otherwise it';s like, 'you enter a room, there's wooden chairs around the outside'/'you enter a room, there's a couple of cleaning droinds doing their job'. lets your players know there's droids, but it's not like 'holy fuck robots?'.

Some of this worldbuilding is stuff you should cover in your session zero, if you're running a campaign - that's the one where you set up player characters, etc - and just…y'know, give your players an overview of your world. If you're running a oneshot, cover it when you pitch it to your players - 'I've come up with this cool as shit idea about a world where there's a group of monks with lazer swords in space, also theres robots', for instance, or 'ok, like, a teen coming of age movie set in the eighties, but also there's evil monsters'. Don't be afriad to use a reference point that your players know - emphasis there, no good being like 'imagine the ethical nightmare of animorphs but set in like, a round the twist sort of world', if your players haven't read animorphs and don't know what the fuck round the twist is.

Zero idea how to end this, so. uh hope that helps even a little bit, anon? if you've got more questions, or are like 'dude what theee actual fuck are you on about here', feel free to hit me up again. (also, anyone else reading this).

#dnd #ttrpg design #coats chats #coats originals #coats makes games #long post #also like. soz for any spelling issues here it's now midnight. and the dsylexia. also that.#good fucking god this is like close to 2k sorry anon.

12 notes · View notes

lenythepillow · 2 years

Text

This is for @undreaming-fanfiction steddie 2023 playlist

I chose this song for my ficlet because the songs talks about a couple running away from the place where they are, besides it indicates one member of this couple has a Baad relationship with the people that live with them. I found it very fitting for what I wrote:

There is a light that never goes out

Dustin hits the wall with the flat of his hand; his knees swinging from side to side, and he can't help the small sounds of anger that escape from his mouth; He turns his gaze to the trembling figure huddled in his chair, curses under his breath again, and dials the number for the Munson's new trailer one more time.

"Dammit," He whispers, "I swear I'm not going to get off the phone until he answers. I don't care if it takes all night."

The trailer park was dead silent; it was calming for Eddie. He enjoyed silence more than ever; this was a result of the upside-down incidents. Flashing lights or loud noises out of nowhere could make him think something terrible was going to happen. He jerks awake and looks around before getting up and answering it.

"Whoever you are, what the hell are you doing calling at this hour?".Eddie looks at the clock hanging on the wall "It's two in the morning, you fucking maniac."

“Eddie, it's me, Dustin. I'm sorry to wake you up at this time of night, but we have an emergency. I need to know how quickly you can come to my house.” Dustin exclaims, nervousness slipping from his voice.

“Does it have something to do with Vecna?” Silly question, the portal to the upside-down had been closed for a few months, yet Eddie lived in constant fear that it hadn't closed completely.

"No, but it's almost as serious as a situation related to the other side."

Eddie rolls his eyes, unconvinced that any situation resembles what they experienced in Hawkins's hell. "Henderson, if you think you can get information out of me about the next campaign by talking to me at dawn, let me tell you-"

Dustin grumbles impatiently, "It's about Steve; he is seriously injured and needs you to come to pick him up quickly."

Eddie falls silent on the other end of the line; Dustin takes a moment off the phone "Eddie? Are you still there?" before receiving an answer the call is cut off.

Dustin redials the number and waits, hoping the call didn't hang up before Eddie hears his pleas; he attempts to call the trailer at least four more times before sighing, cursing again, and giving up. He walks towards his sofa and tries to wrap his relatively short arms around Steve. "He's coming, I know he is; I'm sure he heard me; he'll be here any minute."

The only response Dustin gets is a slight nod, it's not enough but Dustin knows this is not the time to demand anything from Steve; he can't even look at him without feeling even more like crying over the state he's in. The body of the man next to him trembles and Dustin doesn't know if it's because of the winter cold that plagues Indiana or because of the terror that his big eyes show; warm tears run down his cheeks, reaching the point where they merge with the bloodstains that adorn the older man's clothes.

Claudia Henderson did a great job cleaning Steve's wounds when he first arrived; even so, the surprise had been monumental. She would never have imagined finding his son's best friend at the door of her house sporting a black eye, blood dripping down his forehead, tiny pieces of glass adorning his hair, and severe bruises along his arms. Mrs. Henderson led Steve to the bathroom to disinfect his wounds and give him something to soothe his black eye.

The situation was awkward not because of Steve's state, but because he refused to talk about whatever had happened to him. Without a doubt, if Claudia was concerned, Dustin was distraught. The thought of his friend's injuries being the result of a battle with a beast from the other side that had remained alive made his blood run cold; Steve made sure that it hadn't been anything similar, but when Dustin tried to get him to talk, he only asked Eddie to find out about it.

With no more than five minutes gone by, a knock on the door alerts Dustin; the boy gets up and desperately runs to open it, seeing Eddie's figure with a look of concern and breathing quite agitated, his hands trembling while staring at Dustin blankly.

"Where's Steve?" he asks; Dustin steps away from the door and leads Eddie into his living room, where the other man is hunched over, both arms resting on his knees, watching Eddie with those huge, tear-filled eyes. Eddie has no time to react when Steve has already thrown himself into his arms and hides his face in the curly-haired man's chest.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry…" he whispers; Eddie's arms wrap around his figure while Steve's crying intensifies; he can barely get a breath as he clings to Eddie as if the metalhead were going to break apart or vanish into thin air. Eddie directs a gloomy look at Dustin; the boy shakes his head, silently telling him that he is just as confused about Steve's situation.

"Don't worry Steve. We're here, okay? You're safe.” Eddie whispers in the taller man's ear, gently stroking his back. “Do you want to talk about what happened?” Steve shakes his head from side to side and moves closer to Eddie, as if that's possible, considering there is no more space between them.

“I just want to go home,” Steve says quietly before crying again.

"Okay big boy, I'll take you home, don't worry; you're safe now." Eddie pulls away from Steve and places his hand on Dustin's head, smiling sadly. “Thanks for calling me Henderson; have a good night.” Dustin nods, but his eyes fill with pain and concern.

"Eddie, promise me he is going to be fine; please don't let anything happen to him," Dustin begs, looking directly into Eddie's eyes, Eddie feels how little by little his heart cracks knowing how much Dustin would like to help the other man in the room. “He'll be fine, I swear.” with this Dustin nods once more, waving his hand in farewell.

Both men exit the Henderson residence, Eddie helping Steve into his van, watching him sadly; he hadn't been able to examine Steve's wounds closely. As much as he wanted to hear the brunette's voice and for him to explain what had happened to him, Eddie understood that it was best not to ask anything yet; Steve was still in a pretty strong state of shock.

Once behind the wheel, Eddie starts the van and drives to the best neighborhoods in Hawkins. He is not sure exactly where Steve lives, so he waits for directions; the path is not that far, and before they both notice, they are close to the house that used to belong to the Byers, and this causes Steve to speak for the first time during the entire journey.

"Eddie? What are we doing in Fayetteville?" Steve asks in an almost inaudible whisper

"I'm not sure where your house is; I've never been to your neighborhood, but I know it's not exactly the closest. What I remember is that Buckley mentioned that you lived around the Byers' house." Eddie stops suddenly, waiting for Steve to direct them.

“Please let's go,” Steve whimpers. “They're looking for me and the last thing I want is to see them again.” His hazelnut eyes meet Eddie's; Steve is terrified and his eyes show it, flicking from the road and back to Eddie.

"But you said you wanted me to take you home." Eddie turns his head slightly to the side, unable to understand Steve.

“That hell isn't my home, Eddie.” Steve pinches his nose lightly, attempting not to burst into tears again. "I want to stay with you. I swear it will only be tonight until I find a place to stay."

"You want to stay with me?" It shouldn't be a question, yet Eddie is still surprised that Steve considers the overgrown can in which he lives as a home.

"Please, I want to stay with Wayne and you." Steve draws his knees up to his chest, trying to hide his face. The metalhead only watches Steve, feeling how his already cracked heart fell apart at such an image. He couldn't understand what was so serious that it made the pair of stars that Steve had for eyes flood, but if one thing was certain, it was that he would no longer allow it.

"Hey, Stevie, it's okay; you can stay with us as long as you want. Wayne's not back yet, but" Eddie takes Steve's hand, which makes the brunette look for his figure even with half of his face hidden in his arms. “I'll be there; I'm not going to leave you alone, okay? I'm not going to walk away from you for a second."

Steve nods, letting go of Eddie's hand so he can have both hands on the wheel; the drive to the trailer park begins, taking almost an eternity even though it's not that far. Steve spends the entire time looking at the large mounds of snow through the window, Eddie keeping his eyes on the road, being much more careful than usual not to upset Steve. He's had enough for one night.

Once at the park, the doors of the Van open; Steve shoots himself toward the Munson's trailer and waits for Eddie to open the door and allow him inside. It doesn't take long; with both men inside, the curly man invites Steve to sit in front of the table.

Minutes tick by, and the silence stretches out, almost as if Eddie is alone in the middle of the room. Steve doesn't seem to have any intention of saying anything and even so Eddie can't help but feel curious and worried about the person next to him. Maybe he was making a mistake, but he had to say something if he wanted to help Steve.

"I've never seen you cry before."

Are you serious, Munson? He thought, Is that all you have? Do you see that he is having a breakdown and it only occurs to you to ask him that?

"I didn't want you to see me like this," Steve answers " I didn't want Henderson to see me like this either. It's just that everything happened so fast; before I knew it, his mother was already disinfecting my cuts."

Eddie sighs, pulling his chair closer to Steve's. "Do you want to talk about it?" the hazelnut eyes focus on Eddie and panic takes over him "It's okay if you don't want to tell me anything; if you don't feel good talking about it I understand," the metalhead lets out a nervous laugh "There's no reason why I should know about anyway."

Steve is silent for a couple of minutes which seems like forever, as a lump forms in Eddie's throat, wishing he hadn't said anything out of nervousness. With the two of them silent, the movement of the metalhead's ankle is more evident than before, going from side to side quickly.

“My parents came back without warning...” Steve sighs, squeezes his eyes shut, and continues “, As soon as they got there, they started questioning me. They were furious about the rumors that were made about me."

Eddie takes Steve's hand, rubbing his thumb against the surface of Steve's back. "I'm listening" was the only thing that escaped his lips, hoping it was a green light visible enough for the brunette to continue.

“My father said horrible things” a sob dragged down the taller man's throat before he could continue. “He said that I shouldn't have helped the people affected by the earthquakes... he said that it only brought me down to 'their level' and when I tried to defend myself-” more sobs tore from Steve, his eyes getting wet again.

"He took a vase and smashed it against my head," his voice trailed off before finishing the sentence, just as Eddie got up and hugged Steve tightly, knowing that the back of the chair prevented him from being as close as he wanted. "My mother didn't do anything to stop it, Eddie; she was insulting me too." Eddie kisses his boyfriend's head and neck, hugging him tighter.

“Steve,” no matter how hard he tries to avoid it, tears are also released from his eyes; but Eddie's tears are more from anger than sadness like Steve's. “I can't believe those monsters are your parents. Those savages shouldn't have dared even touch you."

“I was forbidden to go near Robin; I don't know how they found out about her preferences, but they told me I shouldn't be near her anymore.” the taller man's hands take Eddie's arm, trying to pull him closer to him. “And when I told them that I would not abandon her, everything got worse; The next thing I know, my father hit me with his belt… Like I was a kid.”

Eddie lifts Steve out of the chair, leading him to the sofa with slow steps as he gently holds his hands, making both of their bodies sit up, and pulls Steve up to his chest, stroking his hair as he tries not to shed any more tears. This is impossible for Eddie; to date, he can't understand how an angel like Steve is the son of two people as cruel as his parents.

"You're safe now honey; I'm not going to let them get close to you again" Eddie kisses Steve's shoulders as he pulls him closer to his chest, melting inside when Steve looks up and those huge eyes find him. Eddie can see how he relaxes, his shoulders slump and a somewhat weak smile begins to grace his lips; like a silent thank you.

“I will look for another place to stay tomorrow,”

“Oh no, princess, you shouldn't worry about that. Stay as long as you need,"

"Eddie, don't you get it? I can't go back to that house anymore. They're looking for me because I still need to be punished. I can't go back."

Eddie leans in lower to kiss Steve's forehead, smiling slightly as the man lying on his chest squirms and his long hair tickle. "That's perfect for me; you know Wayne adores you, and he'll be more than happy to adopt you."

"I don't want to cause more problems, Eddie," Steve doesn't believe his own words; he knows that on the inside he couldn't be happier for the offer that Eddie made him, yet he felt that accepting would be a terrible abuse of the trust and hospitality that his boyfriend gave him.

"Can I tell you something?" Eddie asks, getting a little 'go-ahead from Steve'; he takes a deep breath and continues, "Those little gremlins we adopted are growing up, they all have a great future waiting for them; I'm sure it will be away from Hawkins. When I graduate I won't have much to keep me here, no hellfire members will stay in this hell of a town, besides the people here don't seem to want me around. I think they tolerate me even less than before."

"They don't know what kind of person you are Eddie. They would all love you if they took the time to notice how loving and kind you are." Steve puts his hands on Eddie's thighs to gain momentum, getting closer to his lips and kissing him with incredible softness, being so gentle as if Eddie would break with any sudden movement.

“If you say that out loud it would ruin my reputation. I'd rather it be a secret just between you and me” a sigh “My point is that there isn't much going on for anyone here in Hawkins, not with all the interdimensional tragedy that haunts it. So Wayne and I were thinking of getting out of here." Eddie feels Steve's body tense at his words. "I needed to tell you because we think you don't have much to stay in this place either, besides the kids."

Steve stands up and turns his body to face Eddie, who takes his hand and brings it up to his face to kiss each of Steve's fingers. “I wanted to propose that we leave together, touring through the country until we found a place with better opportunities for the three of us. Maybe a place where people don't think I kill people as a sacrifice for James Hetfield."

Steve's lips part but no sound comes out of his mouth; he looks like a confused fish "Where would we go?" is the only thing he asks before receiving a couple of spontaneous kisses.

“Wherever we want, Stevie, wherever we feel good, anywhere that makes you happy,” Eddie smiles, letting out a surprised sound as Steve pounces on his chest in a hug. Steve is always a little rough with his hugs, being so strong that most end up turning a little red from lack of air. Eddie wouldn't want it any other way.

"Please, I want to go with you; the place doesn't matter to me as long as I'm with you."

Having said this, Eddie separates from Steve, lifting his chin to look into his eyes ", Thanks for letting me take care of you." their lips collide.

________________________________________________________

June 16, 1990

It had been a long time since Eddie had seen the trailer in motion; for almost as long as he could remember, the metal structure had been standing still in a trailer park in Indiana; now, his house was in motion, on its way to Massachusetts. Midnight had just arrived, and the stars began to grace the sky. At the wheel of his home was Wayne; he was already used to working at night, so he had no problem driving at dawn as long as he had a chance to rest in the morning.

On the right side of his bed was the one that Eddie considered the most beautiful man in the entire world; he smiled at him in a way that filled his chest with heat and made his knees tremble. Three years ago, they had begun planning their escape; now, they were far from that place that had made them suffer so much. Eddie wouldn't trade that moment for the world.

Steve looks at Eddie, his smile growing huge. He wouldn't change that situation for anything either; he was with the hero who saved his life in so many ways; Eddie was like a rattlesnake full of energy and a thirst to do something big; Hawkins was too small for a man as jolly as Eddie. If there was one thing Steve was grateful for, it was that that flash of joy and energy had chosen him as a boyfriend. Without his little bell of happiness, Steve wouldn't be there.

Without saying a word Steve turns on the radio, tuning in to the station they love the most, listening carefully to the announcer's voice.

“, And to celebrate the fourth anniversary of its release, this is There Is a Light That Never Goes Out, by The Smiths...”

Steve approaches Eddie, wrapping his strong arms around the metalhead's torso. Begging silently with his eyes for one of those kisses that they both love.

According to Eddie, Steve's kisses are like summer; his lips are soft like his tanned skin and dotted with tiny moles that make him look like a beautiful insect, one Eddie could stare at for hours (Steve pretends to hate that comparison, they both know he loves him). Steve's kisses taste like summer, they're refreshing like any drink that quenches Eddie's thirst for his affection, and at the same time, they are warm like a fire to roast marshmallows.

According to Steve, Eddie's kisses are like autumn. His lips are always a little dry; for Steve, it feels like falling into a pile of dry leaves for fun; they are a perfect balance between the cold wind that gives him chills and that warmth of a bonfire to roast chestnuts, sweet like the caramels that people usually buy during those times for children. Steve is the happiest child on Halloween in that case since he always has the sweetest kisses, which constantly vary in shape and duration like the autumn leaves change in color and rustle.

The kisses go on for hours and hours, getting closer and closer, with light caresses and ever longer shocks of summer and fall. All while Morrissey's singing accompanies them. Eddie knows how much Steve loves The Smiths, but he couldn't understand why until that night.

“I think that will be my favorite song now,” he whispers.

"Yeah? Why?" asks the brunette

"Because I promised that no one would take away the light from your little eyes ever again."

Steve blushes, "You're so cheesy,"

"And you love that" Eddie receives one more kiss and a light "Yeah, I love it", Steve sighs with pleasure "I love you, Eddie."

"I love you more, Steve Munson,"

They both melt into a warm embrace, Morrissey's soft voice lulling them to sleep,

“And if a double-decker bus

Crashes into us

To die by your side

Is such a heavenly way to die

And if a ten-ton truck

Kills the both of us

To die by your side

Well, the pleasure, the privilege is mine

Oh, there is a light and it never goes out

There is a light and it never goes out

There is a light and it never goes out..."

#steddie2023musiclist #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #Spotify

5 notes · View notes

call-memissbrightside · 2 years

Text

Savior

Part One | Taglist: @shortstoriesbyher , @distinguishedlight, @eijiandkatspebble, @atsushiki

TW: Mentions of suicide attempt, depression, guilt, NSFW themes, please don't read if these topics are triggering for you.

“Pro-hero Dynamight has donated over a quarter million dollars towards mental health services in the city, with other heroes like Deku and Shoto matching those donations in a new campaign to shed light on how important —”

The news station droned in the background of Bakugou's office, neither Bakugou or Midoriya paying it any mind.

“How are you today?” Izuku Midoriya was worried.

He made it a point to check in with his friend multiple times a day after Katsuki crashed at his place when (Y/N) was admitted to the hospital and the doctor's kicked him out. Midoriya had never seen Bakugou so disheveled before, he stayed up all night and just let Katsuki cry out his fears. It'd been four weeks since (Y/N)'s suicide attempt, and Katsuki returned to work but not without causing some concern for Izuku.

"Fine." One worded answers were all Izuku was going to receive, but he continued to push. "Have you heard any new updates about (Y/N)?"

Dating for five years and living with one another for two of those years meant nothing to the hospital, Bakugou wasn't (Y/N)'s legal spouse and wouldn't release any details on her recovery. Her family would check in every once in a while, telling him only what he needed to know: she was healing and now in a treatment facility. Yet, Katsuki knew what they were thinking. How could he let her do this? Why didn't he call them when things got bad? What did he say to (Y/N) that drove her to the edge?

Regret was a constant with the hero, and he felt it weigh him down when he had a moment to himself. Irritation could be read on his face but Katsuki knew that Izuku was just trying to check in. The fucking nerd wouldn't have hurt (Y/N), he thinks. After the incident, Izuku forced Katsuki go to therapy, and the shrink talked about how he also was a victim and that guilt would be something he'd experience as he got through this.

"No." Bakugou's eyes glimpsed at the framed photo he had of (Y/N) on his desk, heart cracking more.

Clearing his throat, Katsuki tried not to cry but the tears were hot and blinding. Moving quickly, Izuku hugged his friend as Katsuki clunged to him tightly. Midoriya rubbed his back, biting back his own emotions.

"I'm sorry," Katsuki whispers, his red eyes seeking forgiveness in your photographed smile.

"You need to break up with him."

Your parents didn't like Bakugou before, but after your accident, they really didn't like him.

"I don't want to think about that right now." You couldn't look at your bandaged wrists, so instead you looked out the window to the courtyard of the hospital. The hospital was nice, the nurses and doctors were patient and understanding. You felt like you were in a white bubble of calmness, but your body and mind felt such a heavy fatigue after waking up in the hospital. It was the antidepressants they put you on, the doctors explained that it'd replace the bad thoughts with better ones. Yet, all you felt was exhaustion.

"But honey, he did this." Your mother couldn't say the word suicide out loud, she couldn't accept that you hurt yourself. So, instead Bakugou was the scapegoat, the reason as to why you were in the hospital.

You shook your head. "No, mom I did this. I put myself here and I'm sorry."

Your father tried to reason with you. "You can come home with us."

Again, you declined. "No, I think I'll stay here for a bit."

"In the hospital?" Your parents were worried, everyone was worried. Leaving meant facing what you did and dealing with the consequences and that made you anxious.

"No, I want to look at the birds for a bit longer," You mumble, eyeing a pair of doves playing in a birdbath.

You crack a smile. "They're a good omen, did you know that?" You ask no one in particular.

After a month in the hospital, Bakugou picked you up to take you home. Your parents weren't happy about the decision, but an agreement that Bakugou and you would go to couples therapy eased their concern.

You noticed immediately that he was dressed up, in a button down and nice jeans with a bouquet of flowers in his shaky hands.

"Thank you." Taking the flowers, you think it's sweet that he got you your favorite ones.

"Let me get your bag." Katsuki opened the door for you, something he normally didn't do.

You gave him a teasing smile. "What's gotten into you?"

Bakugou didn't take the joke, instead he looked hurt almost. "I missed you, missed doing things for you."

You were taken back by his vulnerability, your mood dropping because not even ten minutes out and already you were fucking everything up. "Oh, I'm sorry."

Helping you in the car, Katsuki cupped your face in his palms, giving you a gentle kiss on your lips.

"I want to show you that I deserve you," He whispered.

You were at a loss for words. The car ride was quiet, both souls feeling an unspoken sense of awkwardness.

You did this, you slouch in your seat at the thought.

Too soon, Bakugou parks in front of the house that you called home with him.

"Katsuki." Your voice cracks, and you clear your throat. He waits for you to continue, eyes staring at the front door while you take in how rigid his posture is. The flowers you were still carrying makes your nose tickle at how sickly sweet they smell.

"You don't need to be here, I don't want you to feel like you have to stay," You whisper lowly but the way his grip on the steering wheel tightens gives you reason that he heard you.

"I'm giving you an out," You continue. "I'll understand if my issues are too much for you to handle and you want to cut ties."

The idea of losing him makes tears gather, but you push on because since waking up in the hospital you've felt that now, he was truly being suffocated by you.

You jump from shock and slight pain, Bakugou's hand leaving just as quickly as he flicked your forehead.

"What are you going on about woman? I love you, and we'll get through this together." He's smiling, and you didn't realize how much you missed that until then.

You mirror his expression, and the little voice in your head whispers one last dark thought- I hope this is enough.

Things went back to a mockery of 'normal' for the two of you.

You were off work for another week, and were healing up your wounds even though you still refused to look at the stitches, and instead chose to wear long sleeve shirts. Bakugou took a few days off after your release, wanting to help you settle back in and take care of you.

You weren't used to all the attention.

Before, Bakugou and you coexist alongside one another, each doing their own thing and having moments through dinner or a TV show to check in with one another. Now, Katsuki was hesitant to leave you alone for too long, and would ask you constantly how you felt. You let him take you to the grocery store even if you were tired, or chatted with his friends in a public outing he forced you to attend with him, ignoring all the questioning looks as to why you were so quiet now.

Because you felt that you owed him.

One of the hardest truths to swallow after doing what you did was that you scared him. You let yourself drown, and left Bakugou to pick up the pieces. You didn't really want to die, you realized. It wasn't his fault, even if his words struck a cord and made the bad thoughts worse. You were the one to hurt yourself, and that was hard for you to wrap your head around. Not only that, but you hurt your best friend and you felt guilty.

"I don't want him to feel that he has to handle me like I'm on the verge of hurting myself again," You recount in couples therapy.

The therapist jots down your concern, before turning to hear Katsuki's response. He sits besides you on the couch, his knee brushing against your leg before he pulled away, sitting up and clearing his throat.

"I-I wasn't meaning to do that," Bakugou stuttered. You squeezed his hand reassuringly, letting the your joined hands rest in his lap.

Bakugou tries again. "I just know that I fucked up before, about not hearing her opinions and I want to make sure she knows that I'm here for her."

The therapist looks up from her notes, eyebrow arched. "What makes you think (Y/N) doesn't know that?"

You catch him glancing at your sleeve, hiding your bandage. Anger or maybe shame makes you blush and you want to pull away from him if only you knew it wouldn't hurt his feelings.

"So you think being mister nice guy will make me never want to kill myself again?" The bite in your voice makes him clench his jaw.

"Well isn't that why you did it in the first place, because of what I told you?" Bakugou challenged back.

The therapist calms down the situation, pulling you and Bakugou back.

"Bakugou, we expressed our apologizes for what occurred the night of (Y/N)'s attempt a few weeks ago. Why do you think you can't let that conversation go?"

"Because I hurt her. I blew up and I made her cry." Emotions made him choke, but he continued on. "I let my frusterations and anger get the best of me, and I didn't try to fix it before it was too late." The therapist nodded, "What do you mean by fixing it?"

Bakugou shrugged. You couldn't look away from him, shocked by the rawness of his feelings displayed before you. Of all the years dating, Katsuki was never the type to just word vomit like this.

"I didn't say sorry." Bakugou's hand was getting sweaty, you could feel the sweat forming against the skin of your palm.

"I have trouble admitting that, even if I am. I should've apologized," He sniffles, his free hand wiping harshly at his eyes to prevent him from crying.

"But Katsuki," The therapist gave him a reasurring smile. "You did apologize, remember? (Y/N) and you discussed what happened and the both of you said your apologizes for doing what you did to one another."

He shook his head, bottom lip quivering. "No doc, you don't understand. I-I almost lost her."

You rub his arm for comfort, squeezing his hand as Bakugou openly cried.

"I felt so bad about what I said to you (Y/N), and I was too much of a coward to be there for you when you needed me." Katsuki couldn't look at you as he confessed his deepest fear.

"I found you, bleeding on that floor and all I could do was beg for you to forgive me because I thought you were going to die and you'd leave me thinking those horrible things I said to you!" His chest heaves as he sobs, head down in shame.

"I didn't mean any of that, I love you (Y/N)." You begin to cry, throat tightening.

"Katsuki, I know that." You carefully wipe away his tears from his face, the young man leaning into your touch.

"What I did was horrible, and I did internalized a lot of what you told me," You try to explain, Bakugou grimacing at your words.

You pushed on. "I'm so sorry I put you through that, you didn't deserve that. You were there for me, you tried to get me help but I didn't want it."

Your mind goes back to that dark place, remembering how you felt and you desperately try to explain what that was like.

"You were there for me the best you could have been, but I realize now that it wasn't healthy just to rely on you." You trace his knuckles, noticing the new scars and cuts on them.

"You're a hero," You whisper, sniffling. "You save people for a living, you save the day and keep everyone safe. I never asked you how you felt, what you were going through. I put so much on you, and that's not fair."

The therapist interjects. "This is good, how open you are now with one another. My question is, how can you both move past this?"

Bakugou lets go of your hand to wrap an arm around your shoulders, pulling you against his body. Kissing your temple, Bakugou closed his eyes and basked in your warmth. You're here, you're alive and well and with him, he reassured himself.

"We just keep swimming," You joke.

The tension in his body breaks, Katsuki's deep laugh making you believe that you were getting better.

The weeks blur, and the relationship between Katsuki and you was slowly healing. He's more quiet, more touchy. Yet, it was you that needed to be the one to push things to become more physical.

You were on top, Katsuki carefully peeling off your shirt over your head to relieve you of your clothing as he was already naked.

Your bandages crinkle, and you feel shy all of the sudden. It'd take months until your self-inflicted wounds were fully healed and no longer needed to be covered.

"Hey." Bakugou's voice snaps you out of your head, and you take in how breathless he looks.

"You're beautiful, you know that?" He pushes a strand of hair behind your face, fingers lingering to trace to your jaw so carefully it tickles.

"I know," You answer, your hands trailing down his wide chest. Years of scars have gathered on his skin, and a question pops in your head.

"How do you see your scars?"

Bakugou holds onto your hips, slightly grinding against you. Clenching his jaw, he stays focused on the conversation.

"They're proof that I won against my enemies," He said.

You trace a particularly large scar that trails from his right shoulder to the middle of his chest.

"The doctor said my wounds will leave scars, ya'know," You mumble, your stomach feeling sick at the idea.

Carefully gathering your wrists in his hands, Bakugou looks up at you as he gently kisses them.

"You don't need to be ashamed (Y/N)," He reassures you. "These scars can be a reminder that you survived, that you won against your own enemies."

Emotions run high, soft moans and sloppy kisses overwhelm you as Bakugou makes love to you. Usually, sex with the hero was rough and fast, but now his hands trace down your body and mumbles how beautiful you were as you made him unravel.

You collapsed next to Katsuki after coming, breathing heavily as he pulled you to lay on his chest. Kissing the skin there, you nuzzled into his warmth. He continued leaving soft pecks on your forehead, sighing loudly. You were cocooned in a state of happiness so sweet you could cry, body tired from an intense orgasm and not because of depression for once. You wanted to stay in bed, naked with Katsuki forever. To bask in the small victories of choosing to live, of surviving.

"Let's get married."

You sit up, looking at his face to see if he was joking. Katsuki looked carefree, the skin of his cheeks and chest red. Your stomach dropped when you realized he was completely serious.

"Katsuki-," He cuts you off.

"Let's get married (Y/N)," Katsuki says is so sweetly, a soft smile on his swollen lips.

"We're still going through therapy, and we've never talked about marriage before," You try to reason.

Katsuki shook off your excuses, giddy all of the sudden.

"Who fucking cares, I want you to be my wife. Isn't that what you want?" He arches an eyebrow, daring you to say otherwise.

The wave of anxiety makes your heart flutter, and the tips of your fingers feel numb.

"Things are just getting back to normal, why do you want to push it?" You ask, the idea of making a huge life changing decision absolutely terrifying.

"This," He points to your wrists, "just proves that we can handle anything together. Why not just make it official?"

Bakugou was too blinded by his excitement that he didn't notice how your expression morphed into one of anguish.

"I didn't try to fucking die to get a proposal out of you." You said through gritted teeth.

Just like that, the bubble popped and reality set in.

Part three

#bakugou x reader #mha bakugou #bakugou katsuki #bakugou katuski x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugo x y/n #katsuki x reader #bnha bakugo katsuki #bakugou x you #bakugou angst

1K notes · View notes

horneewithpurpose · 2 years

Text

“This is going to be a hit or miss, but…” Part 2

Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!Babysitter!reader

Genre: fluff

Summary: Steve wants to find a way to woo his way into Dustin’s babysitters heart

Tag list: @chims-kookies @taken-by-the-wind @onceuponaoneshot

Masterlist

NO SPOILERS FOR SEASON FOUR.

Steve was whipped. That conversation was all it took to get his engine revving “Robin, Robin, tell me you saw her. She was gorgeous- and-and-and-and! She puts up with Dustin which means she’s probably good with kids, that’s a green flag, right? I need to ask Henderson what she likes and shit and maybe I can impress her, yeah?” He held his hands out in front of him, upturned as if showing her this plan with an expression asking if it was a good plan or great plan.

Robin groaned, listening to her coworker continue going on and on about some girl he had just met and how he was going to woo her. Robin was 99% certain she had seen you in the halls before, you were pretty attractive and you had moved to Hawkins right after Steve’s graduation so it made sense that he wouldn’t have seen you around. “Steve you’re insufferable. You literally just learned her name” the girl snickered, sitting on the counter in the back room “but I guess it’s an okay plan to learn what she li-“

“Great! I’m taking my break! Don’t fuck anything up while I’m gone” he rushed out the words as he grabbed his jacket from the back before quickly bolting out, heading to his car, not intending on coming back soon, causing the girl he left to yell obscenities at him as he left.

You in the meantime were already at Dustin’s house, listening to Blondie’s new album while dustin was ranting something about a campaign he was set to be joining next year, something about hellspawn? Hotfire?? Something like that. You hadn’t played D&D yourself but you had sat in on some of the boys’ games and it seemed like fun. A ring came to the doorbell. Well… more like a king series of quick rings which you found to be incredibly annoying so you quickly went to the door and opened it

Steve sighed “fucking finally, Henderson I-“ his eyes fell on you, the same girl that Dustin had introduced him too only a couple hours ago. His mouth went dry “oh- um…” he tried to lean against the doorframe casually only to accidentally hit the doorbell with his arm, startling himself a little “hey. Can I um… can I borrow him really quick?” He asked, his big brown eyes shifting from your own eyes to your lips, then to your eyes again before finally darting over to dustin.

“Sorry, no. He’s on house arrest but you’re welcome to come in and talk to him” you shrugged easily and the boy nodded as you stepped aside to let him in, which he gladly took the opportunity to, walking to dustin, grabbing him by the back of his shirt and quickly taking him to his room.

Steve sat on the bed “so, what’s your babysitter into?” Steve asked, quickly cutting to the chase.

Dustin choked on the coke he had been nursing on “-what???” The boy asked, staring wide eyes at his best friend

“You heard me, what is she into? Music, movies, games, come on man-“ he snapped his fingers in a small circle, telling the boy to hurry the fuck up before he made him hurry up.

“Oh my god!! You have a thing for Y/-“ Dustin’s mouth was covered

“Not so loud! Less teasing, more telling me what the fuck she likes!” Steve demanded, causing the kid to nod quickly and sporadically

“I-I don’t know man! I mean… music, right um… Blondie! She just bought their new album, we were listening to it before you interrupted us so rudel-“

“Dude.” Steve warned

“Right… Um… she said she wanted to try playing D&D, she said it seemed fun but she doesn’t have dice, she found one in one of my catalogues she liked!” He chirped

“Perfect! Attaboy, Henderson. Now I just need that catalogue. Where is it?”

Dustin deadpanned “uuhhhhh…”

“…..Henderson….”

“She kind of has it in her bag….”

How the hell was he supposed to get that catalogue?

#fiction #stranger things x reader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #dustin henderson #stranger things #robin buckley #scoops ahoy #x reader

352 notes · View notes

hologramcowboy · 2 years

Note

Why are people so insistent that because Jensen and Danneel are still married and she’s wormed her way into business with him that means they’re so in love? (This ended up being so long, I’m so sorry! I always send you the longest deep dives 😅).

Their relationship was never about love. They were two people partied together and cheated on their partners with each other. When their partners broke up with them, Danneel clung onto Jensen and he let her because he had nothing else going on. Very much a situationship. One person treats it like a real relationship (Danneel), the other as a regularly occurring, no strings attached hook up (Jensen). Then he suddenly was at the age where all of his friends were getting married and the studio was probably on his back about having a partner for his image because 1. Bachelorhood isn’t a good look once you hit a certain age and 2. The gay rumors. Conveniently, he was hooking up with a girl employed by the same network. Her career looked promising at the time, so Jensen gets a little nudge from higher ups to make it official. Danneel gets the press and status she needs to keep her career on the same upwards trajectory, Jensen keeps his wholesome guy from Texas image he had at the time, and they get to be the replacement network power couple after Sophia Bush and Chad Michael Murray didn’t work out. That’s why the timeline of their relationship is so sketchy, because it was all manufactured. One moment Jensen was recently single, the next he was claiming that he had been dating an “up and coming actress for a few years” (his actual words, I’ll try and find the interview) and why there are no pictures from their relationship prior to going public. Because there was no relationship.

I don’t think the relationship was meant to last beyond a couple of years of dating. The idea probably was they would stay together long enough to get Danneel her clout and cement Jensen’s reputation as a good man who doesn’t use women. But she’s a schemer, there’s no way she was letting him go. And this is where my point about everyone around Jensen getting married comes in. I think seeing everyone around him getting married made him feel as though he was getting old, and needed to get married too. Jared, who is four years younger than him, getting married really sealed the deal panic wise. Danneel preyed on that and got her ring. Then, she stirred up the gay rumors so that Jensen would feel even more pressure to get married. If he had broken off the engagement, tabloids would have taken that as proof that he was gay. It also served the purpose of making sure that people knew not only who she was, but who she was going to be- Mrs. Ackles. Then a short engagement to lessen the chances of Jensen getting cold feet. Jensen still got cold feet, and she was prepared for that so she made sure there would be people around to talk him off the ledge and down the aisle. The wedding pictures say it all, like most pictures of the two of them do. Her smug face, his parents pinched expressions and Jensen’s eyes looking super distant (nothing says true love like having to be high to get though your own wedding).

From the moment the marriage certificate was signed, the (failing to this day) long con of Mr. and Mrs. Ackles, Hollywood power couple, began. No honeymoon for the “stars”, but straight to Upfronts to parade around her new husband and promote herself and her new show. Friends with Benefits was supposed to launch her to stardom. She wanted to be the next Jennifer Aniston, and Jensen was going to be her Brad Pitt. This was also around the time that she was heavily campaigning to replace Megan Fox in Transformers. Friends With Benefits was a total failure, and NBC knew that was going to happen before it even aired. They moved it from being a mid-season replacement for the 2010-11 season to a summertime premiere, a death sentence for any TV show. They didn’t even air the season finale, it was first made available when the show was put on iTunes and Netflix in 2018. Her other two projects released that year were a small role in Mardi Gras: Spring Break (best described as a trashy/dirty movie made for teenage boys to watch when their mothers aren’t looking) and reprising her role as Kumar’s girlfriend in the final Harold & Kumar movie. After that she had small roles in two other cancelled after one season sitcoms (in 3/20 episodes of Retired at 35 and 2/13 episodes of How to Live with Your Parents for the Rest of Your Life). She would then pretend she was retiring from acting to become a mother, yet shortly after JJ was born filmed Baby Boot Camp, a Hallmark movie. Motherhood was a cover up for her failed career, and a way to keep Jensen in her clutches.

From 2010 to 2013 while Danneel tried to make it big, Jensen and Danneel are pretty public. He brings her as a plus one to events, there are paparazzi pics of them out and about fairly regularly, they live in LA with the rest of the stars. When they move to Austin in 2014 however, Danneel basically disappears. No more paid paparazzi, Jensen slowly starts bringing her to less events, and no career to give her visibility. Divorce rumors start to circulate (or rather recirculate. No one has believed in this relationship since the moment it went public). Then Danneel makes her Instagram public and verified. I specify public and verified because she was on Instagram for a while before her “first” post in August of 2015. She deleted a bunch of pictures, got verified and the era of being Jensen Ackles’s wife and mother of his children began. It’s not enough though. And from then on it’s a cycle of trying to gain attention. She’s constantly caught by fans trying to pass off Jensen content as current on Instagram. She tries several times to brand herself as an activist and get into liberal circles. She collabs with a jewelry line with little success. Her recent foray back into modeling. She gets zero attention outside of the fandom, and while she used to mock Gen for being a mommy blogger clearly wanted to be one as well, trying and failing a few times to make it as an influencer. Even with Jensen’s name she can’t make it- whether it’s internet fame or acting. The only time she’s active in the public eye is when she’s trying to prove her marriage. Divorce rumors- next thing you know she’s pregnant with twins. Divorce rumors again- Hilarie gets her a gig with a few other OTH stars in a hallmark Christmas movie. This backfired because no one recognized Danneel as Rachel after all the surgery. Divorce rumors again- guest spot on Supernatural and a family brewery that very conveniently doesn’t include Jensen’s side of the family. More divorce rumors- now they have a production company! She continues to accompany Jensen to less and less events until she’s absent from all of them. You may have noticed that once Gen didn’t need to pretend to be her friend to play up the image of “J2 are so close and their wives are too!” Danneel stopped being seen with her at events in Austin, in fact she stopped going to events entirely. Clearly Jensen wasn’t her only meal ticket.

And now we’re in the current marriage flop era. Post Supernatural has not been good to them. They’ve both admitted their marriage only works when they don’t really see each other and only talk on weekends and now that he’s not in Vancouver 9 months of the year they can’t hide behind that anymore. Cringey anniversary video trying to brand themselves as a humorous couple. No one does that unless they have something to prove. Danneel all but abandoning her social media after years of attention seeking, and after using lockdown to heavily promote the Ackles as a nuclear family unit. Never visited Jensen when travel restrictions were lifted while he was filming The Boys. Only family photos we’ve seen haven been taken outside of the home in public spaces (WB tour, NOLA boutique picture, Disney) and the only public proof of them cohabiting comes from them spending Christmas as a family in Colorado, and Jensen staying in the house they were renting in NOLA for a few days while the prequel pilot was being filmed. We know it was only for a few days because he was away filming for Big Sky at the time. She’s rarely seen with Jensen, and if they’re together they’re noticeably very drunk (FBBC Christmas party, Mardi Gras) or so visibly upset that even the most blind sheep fans notice (Upfronts). They can’t even pretend to be happy for the cameras anymore. What about any of this reads as a happy marriage to people? I have more to say, but this is already way too long so maybe another time lol.

Anon, I love you! 💖 You had the patience to explain everything in great detail. Thank you from the bottom of my heart for this beautiful post, I enjoyed reading each paragraph and I hope you will share the rest as well!

"What about any of this reads as a happy marriage to people?" Indeed. Normal people acknowledge something is off about these two, especially those who are outside of fandom but I guess stans would rather empower their cult worship than face the truth.

#anti danneel #anti elta #anti elta graul #anti danneel ackles

148 notes · View notes

hiatuswhore · 2 years

Text

𝕦𝕘𝕙, 𝕙𝕚𝕘𝕙 𝕤𝕔𝕙𝕠𝕠𝕝 — 𝕥𝕔

previous — masterlist — next

Word Count: 2.4K

A/N: I have been struggling with writers block so I’ve been posting some works I wrote a while back but never put up. Let me know what you think. Feedbacks a good motivator! In my head I picture Shelley Hennig as Ivy, Diana Silvers as Marina, Daniel Sherman as Declan, Lili Reinhart as Mackenzie, and Camila Mendes as Bianca.

SUMMARY: Ugh, high school. Best four years of nothing. Raging mood swings and sporadic acne. All on top of balancing mean girls, douche bag guys, and cocky jocks. Best four years? Yikes image peaking in high school.

I can list several things I cannot stand. I could start with my Mom’s overbearing need to talk about her high school glory days, or my Dad’s never-ending trophies in nearly everything. My list continues for things such as romantic comedies, jean leggings, and platinum blonde hair. Do not tell Ivy about that she is one break-up away from cutting her hair and dying it blonde. I love her to pieces but she is a wildcard with a knack for trouble and a high social media following. Trust me when I say do not look at her Tik Tok. Her high following and verification coming from her looks and problematic prank videos.

“Hello? (Y/n) are you listening?” Marina asked, sitting across from me at the lunch table she types away on her laptop rambling profusely. She delicately placed flowers through her hair with half of it pinned up. She wears a cute white camisole with a beige boho cardigan that reaches the hem of her jeans. Resembling a pretty hippy, it works on her. Apologizing, I ask her to repeat herself but she only rambles about Ivy being in detention. Oddly enough Marina is on the opposite end of the continuum from Ivy. Not only the cheer captain, but one can make it a game of trying to find what club she is not a part of. Even started her own anti-bullying campaign. “So you’re not listening?”

“I’m sorry Mina. I didn’t get much sleep last night because somebody was busy practicing his guitar at all hours of the night.” I groan looking over at the guy’s table. It was a mixture of faces in the masses. No set groups at their table, the mix of guys come from all sports teams and clubs. At the center of the table sits Timmy laughing at something. You know those people you grew up with when you were little but now they just annoy the shit out of you. Yeah, that’s Chalamet, as cliche, as it is the perfect-haired idiot, is my neighbor. We grew up next to each other, yes there is a picture of us bathing together as kids. It is the bane of my existence. Yes, we are still friends but more so a down low thing. Him being the soccer goalie made him this big deal and me being virtually no one makes our friendship odd at school.

“I ordered our homecoming tickets online,” Opening my mouth to protest she quickly shrugs me off. “You have to come, it'll be no fun without you.”

“You’ll both have dates. What am I going to do? Just linger awkwardly?” Biting into my cold fry it lacks salt making me want to spit it out. Marina closes her laptop and turns to her salad she brought from home.

“Ivy and I could find you a date,” Though I have every intention of saying no I miss my opportunity as Mackenzie and Bianca sit next to us. In their cheering uniforms, they wear it every day like it is a badge of honor. It screams pick-me but everyone does pick them so the behavior is enabled.

“Hey, Marina, where's Ivy?” Mackenzie asks, scooting to the side allowing her some space both she and Bianca fail to spare me a single glance. I can see on Marina’s face that she has no interest in talking to either of them but she plants a warm smile on her face. Despite her distaste for the two most clueless people on the planet that is what I love about Marina, she is kind to everyone.

“In detention for calling Coach Hoffman an asshole,” The laugh that leaves my lips contrast the two girls’ wide eyes.

“Anyways we came over with invites for you and Ivy. Party at my place tonight. My parents are out of town.” Bianca’s raven black hair is straightened to perfection. She shuffles through her Michael Kors purse before pulling out two envelopes. Marina looks at me as she thinks it over in her head.

“Ivy will kill us both if we turned this down so yeah we’ll all be there,” For the first time since they sat at the table their eyes drift to me. I smile sheepishly as they look me up and down. Mackenzie grits her teeth as she smiles at me.

“That’s the thing (Y/n) you need an actual invite to get in and I only have a certain amount. I’ll let you know if anything changes,” I am no idiot, I know she is lying, the faux smile and honey tone holds more poison than anything.

“Problem solved.” Handing me half of her invite I bite back a laugh as Marina rips it in half. Both Bianca and Mackenzie feign chuckles as they excuse themselves leaving the two of us to watch them purposely walk by the guys’ table. Marina shakes her as she turns back to her salad. “Those two are something else.”

“I’ll catch you later I have a photography club meeting,” I say and Marina only smiles before going onto her phone. Unlike Bianca and Mackenzie, I actually have to pass the guy’s table to walk over to the dish return. It is okay though because none of them even turn from their conversations except one pair of eyes. Timothee’s lips pull into a smirk before he shoots me a wink. Smiling sarcastically I flipped him off before continuing on.

Mrs. Klotz wastes no time diving into the agenda for the following weeks. Since I arrive a few minutes late it leaves me with the bottom of the barrel for what event to cover. Of course, there is only one event that no one wants to do, the homecoming dance. As the meetings adjourned I wait for everyone to leave the room, the meeting was brief, and yet so much was covered.

“Mrs. Klotz please don’t make me cover the homecoming dance. I don’t even want to go.” I say, closing the club binder she places it in her desk before resting her hands on the desk. She wears glasses that frame her face with her auburn hair, all the guys like to creep on her due to her being fresh out of college.

“I thought it’d be perfect for you (Y/n). I even saw you purchased a ticket,” Mrs. Klotz explains as her eyebrows pull together slightly she tilts her head to the side. I mirror her expression before I remember what Marina had said.

“No, that was Marina. I’m pretty sure what she is attempting is entrapment,” I say, sitting on the edge of the desk behind me I watch as Mrs. Klotz frowns.

“Well, first that is detention for Miss Monroe. The online ticketing policy states students cannot buy tickets for other students,” My stomach flips for a moment as I realize what I have done.

“Did I say Marina sorry I get those two mixed up. It was Ivy who ordered the tickets,” Knowing Ivy would not care as she has been in detention more than she has ever been in class. None of this matters as Mrs. Klotz only apologizes before writing Ivy up and telling me there is no one else who can do it. “I assume you can give this detention slip to Miss Porter.”

In the hallway, I stop as my phone vibrates in my pocket. Ivy sent a text in the group chat telling us to meet her in the computer lab. Walking through the halls my arms fall at my side like dead limbs as I sulk through the corridors. It smells like sweat and pizza from the cafeteria and every couple of lockers is a candy wrapper or abandoned worksheet. Whoever the hell said high school was the best four years of your life, lied. In the computer lab, both Marina and Ivy are already there. Ivy is wearing a tube top with a denim jacket and legging. She is breaking the dress code as usual but it is getting to a point where the faculty do not even care what she wears. I am almost certain Ivy could show up in a bikini and no one would be fazed. Handing her the detention slip her eyebrows pull together.

“Wait what did I do this time?” She asks, explaining the situation she laughs at me before turning to Marina, “Since I am now the sacrificial lamb I would love to talk about that super cute sheer tank top you refuse to let me wear.”

“You get to wear it once then it goes back in my closet,” Marina says, rolling her eyes at the extortion. I look to Ivy asking why she summoned both of us to the computer lab but she only shrugs saying she got bored. There are still ten minutes to spare before the warning bell goes off. Marina hands Ivy the invite to the party and the two giggle amongst themselves about it but I only groan.

“Wait, this is a perfect time to figure out a date for (Y/n) for homecoming. How about Jack Ribas?” Marina says, looking through her Instagram followers as the short boy came to mind I can remember he was my chemistry partner.

“Tiny hands,” I cannot fight the grimace on my face as Ivy laughs before going on her Instagram. The real answer being his ex-girlfriend, she rarely speaks and I am sure she is the reason he has not dated in over a year.

“What about Mark Warshaw?” Ivy asked, earning a nudge from Marina as she is clearly not taking it seriously.

“He smells terrible. Come on,” I say, leaning back in my seat this only furthers how much I do not want to go to homecoming. Marina continues looking through her phone and I cannot say I do not appreciate her wanting to help.

“Terrance Avecedo?” As the name left her lips I could not help but stare at her with eyes I can only imagine appeared crazed.

“You mean my cousin? Dude,” I say as Marina apologizes profusely there is one guy I would not absolutely hate the idea of going with. Just my luck he and a few of his buddies walk by the computer lab. Declan Knight, once again it’s super cliche but he’s the football quarterback and captain. Timothee found it more than hilarious my crush on the 6’2 curly-haired beau.

“Hey, Ivy. Hey, Marina,” He says, popping his head into the computer lab and they both say hey Declan at the same time before he turns to me. “Hey, (Y/n).”

The feeling of panic rushes every inch of me as I force out a chuckle before breathlessly saying, “Hey.”

“Real smooth,” Fortunately Ivy says this as Declan is already continuing on wherever he is walking toward. Marina once again nudges Ivy as I put my head down groaning loudly.

“I am going to my locker. Please leave me to sulk about my day in peace.” I say and I hear Marina yell love you, saying it back I do not turn around. Everyone is in the hallways always playing it dangerously close to the late bell. At my locker, I can see Timothee walking toward my locker.

“Double-A.” He says, looking at me with his usual shit-eating grin, I frown as we rarely speak in school.

“Timmy. Shouldn’t you be ducking behind something to talk to me here?” He only chuckles. Girls would kill for him to walk up to the locker and chat yet I would pay him right now to walk away from me. Only wearing a simple long sleeve shirt, jeans, and converse he is still somehow a hot commodity at school.

“Funny. Also what the hell were you watching last night. It gave me soft porn vibes but very cinematic,” He asks and I shift on the balls of my feet as his grin widens. So I decided to watch that movie 365 on Netflix which was one of the cringest things I have ever seen.

“Spying on me much?” But once again I earn a laugh before he says that I should close my curtains more often. “Maybe don’t look in my window.”

“Noted. Where’s your girls at?” He asks scanning the hall for Marina and Ivy I close my locker. Crossing my arms I look at him asking who wants to know but the smirk on his lips reappears. “The only man in your life. No, your Dad does not count. So that leaves me, you are very welcome.”

“I can assure my love. You would not be in my life even if you were the only man on the planet.” I said, watching as he places his hand over his heart feigning pain. He wastes no time in quoting Marina’s anti-bullying campaign motto, Spread the Love. “Shut up jackass.”

“Timothee,” Mackenzie says and the high pitch of her voice makes me grimace as I look away. She pulls him into a kiss that lasts a couple of seconds longer than needed. The two are the most indecisive couple I have ever seen. I’ll break it down like this, today is Wednesday. Monday they were dating, Tuesday they were not, today is a big question mark and tomorrow is still a coin toss. This does not stop Timmy from being a total whore when they are broken up. I’m pretty sure Mackenzie still does not know Timothee hooked up with Bianca. I narrow my eyes as Mackenzie looks at me as she kisses Timothee. The urge to promise her I have no interest in the mop-headed idiot is strong but instead, I just stand there.

“Hey still here,” Placing my hands in my pocket I look down at the tiles as Mackenzie pulls back.

“Gosh, (Y/n) I am so sorry. Since when were you friends with my ex-boyfriend?” She asks, smiling kindly but it is clearly fake. I have no intention of outing our lifelong friendship but I have no time to even say anything before Timothee chimes in.

“We’re not just asking for some notes. What does it matter anyway?” Timothee asks, looking at Mackenzie who gives him a doe-eyed pout. Gagging as she pulls him into another kiss.

“I know you miss me.” She says before stalking off and I cannot help but now smirk at him.

“Healthy thing you got going there,” I say but he rolls his eyes before walking down the hall away from me. The rest of the day feels uneventful, the girls and I agree to meet at my house to get ready for the party. Which translates to them already ready and helping me insisting on staying home.

#timothée chalamet fanfiction #timothee x you #timothée imagine #timothee chalamet x reader #timothée chalamet au #timothée fanfic #timothée chalamet imagine #timothée chalamet #Shelly hennig imagine #Diana silvers imagine #Daniel sharman imagine #lili reinhart imagine #camila Mendes imagine

75 notes · View notes

koyaflwr · 2 years

Text

what if?

martin brenner x original female character, dr brenner x original female character

summary: what if dr brenner actually had a family in Hawkins? A family who is completely clueless to his work at the laboratory.

warnings: none

next part

*******

November 6, 1983

Holly wiped her hands on the apron around her waist, before looking up towards the clock, and sighed. They were late.

“Am I doing it okay mama?” A little voice beside her asked.

"They're perfect honey." Holly smiled at the seven year old girl. Since she had already finished making dinner, and no one had arrived home yet, they decided on making some cupcakes. "Your dad will love them."

She had expected her son to be late, he was playing that board game with his friends at the Wheeler’s, after all, and god knew they could spend days playing that thing if there wasn't anyone to stop them. But her husband was rarely late. In the twenty five years they had been married, Holly could count with her fingers the amount of times he hadn’t arrived home at time. He was structured like that, always rigorously sticking to his routine. He was supposed to leave work, pick Harper up from a friend’s house, and then come home.

Her husband, Dr. Martin Brenner, was a scientist working at Hawkins National Laboratory. He was the head of the place, as a matter of fact. Holly didn’t have a clue of what her husband did for work. Something to do with energy, she assumed. Something related to the electricity in Hawkins. Whatever it was, she could tell it wasn’t an easy job. Sometimes, he came back home happy. Most of the time, he came back home stressed.

She met Martin while she was still in med school, when she was only twenty years old. It didn’t take long for him to propose. It didn't take long at all for her to say yes. As soon as she met him, she fell head over heels for him. And so did he.

Before the kids, Holly used to work as a paediatric surgeon in Indianapolis, and she also had a PhD in child development and pedagogy. Martin had always been fascinated by her studies, and would eagerly read all of her papers. After Harper was born, she stopped working altogether, and didn’t take on any job until Poppy, her youngest, was four. She then started a simple job as a paediatrician in Hawkins Memorial Hospital. Her husband had insisted on it, that she needed something to keep her busy throughout the day. Maybe he just wanted her to have something to focus on. Something that would tire her away from asking so many questions about his work. She didn't get to perform surgery, as she had dreamed, but being a general practitioner wasn't that bad. It was good enough, she guessed.

They had just put the baking tray into the oven, when she heard a bike bell ring. Moments after, a twelve year old boy came running into the kitchen.

“Okay, I know what you’re going to say," he said, out of breath, "but how could I know the campaign would take ten hours?!”

“Ten hours?!” Holly asked, bewildered. “You’ve been playing that game for ten hours?”

“We didn’t realise it was so late!” The boy excused himself.

“Luke, I’ve told you, if you’re going to stay out for that long, you have to at least call to let me know.”

“I know mom, I’m sorry.” He said, apologetic. “On the bright side, next time you won’t have to wait because we will have the campaign right here.” He added, mischievously.

“Well, now go wash your hands and then come help me and your sister do the dishes, your dad and sister should be coming home soon.” Holly said, kissing the boy on his temple. "Hey," she added, while he was at the sink, "did you leave your bike on the porch, like we've talked about?"

"Uhh... yeah." He lied, looking away from her.

"Luke," she sighed, "how many more bikes will your father have to break before you learn? You know he can't see them from the car if you leave them tossed in the driveway!"

"I'll take it to the driveway..." he groaned, "tomorrow."

Holly couldn't help but to chuckle. She would start to get strict about it. The next day.

"So, this... battle of yours," Holly said to Luke, while they were loading the dishwasher, "are your friends coming tomorow, then? I'll have to buy those snacks Will likes so much."

"Campaign, mom." Luke corrected her, with a smile. "It's called a campaign, not a battle."

"Shall I prepare the playroom for you campaign then?" She asked, playfully.

"Yes, thank you."

"Harper says that game is for big nerds," Poppy chimed in, with a teasing grin on her face.

"Well honey, it wasn't very nice of Harper to say that, was it?" She whispered, smiling at the girl. "Plus, I think it's sweet of the five of you to stick together like this, Luke."

"It's cool, mom. Cool. Not sweet." The boy complained.

Just as he was saying that, she heard a car pull up on the driveway. Thankfully, she didn't heard any sounds of a bike being, once again, ran over.

“Mum!” A sixteen year old girl yelled, struting into the kitchen, “dad won’t let me go to a small gathering tomorrow that some friends are having.”

“Hello to you too sweetheart, how was your day?”

"Mom, I'm serious, everyone is going!" Harper complained, ignoring her. "It'll be super lame if I don't go!"

“You’re just not old enough to do those things, Harper." A strained voice answered behind her. Holly turned around to see her husband approaching her, to leave a small peck on her lips.

"Ugh, you guys don't ever let me do anything!" The teenager protested.

"You just want to go out with Steve." The little boy mocked her.

"Shut up, you loser!"

“Hello honey,” Holly greeted her husband, ignoring the hell that was breaking around them, “did you have a good day?”

Martin didn’t immediately respond to that, and just stared at her with a concerned look.

“It could’ve been better.” He said, with an uneasy tone on his voice. Something seemed off about him. Something had happened at the lab. Not that he would share any of that with her.

Holly would’ve asked him to elaborate, if it weren’t for their youngest daughter jumping into her father’s arms.

“Dad!” She squealed. “We made cupcakes for you.”

The man stared at the girl with a tired, yet sweet, smile, and exhaled.

“That sounds great, Poppy.”

It wasn't until later at night that Holly had the opportunity to continue with their conversation. After dinner, he had spent a whole hour alone in his office room, doors shut completely. She had heard his personal telephone ringing all the time.

“So, what happened today?” She asked, with a small voice, while she was finally settling in bed, next to him. Martin took a couple of seconds to answer.

“Just problems.” He muttered, not looking up from the book he was reading. She noticed he wasn't really reading, he was just scanning the pages to pretend he was doing so.

“What kind of problems?” She insisted.

She saw him stop moving his eyes, and finally got him to lift his gaze to look at her. She could tell he was annoyed.

“Nothing you should be concerned about, my dear.” He sighed, closing his book, and leaving it on the bedside table. Her husband threw a faded smile at her, before reaching to turn off the lamp.

Holly pursed her lips, in an attempt to make her husband realise that was not enough for her, but it was too dark for him to notice.

As much as she didn't believe any of it, she knew about the rumours people spread about the laboratory. About what they did. About experiments… But she never paid attention to them. Or rather, she decided to ignore all of them. Whether it was intentional or not, she had made the choice of living in blissful ignorance a handful of years ago. Martin was a good husband to her, and a great father to their children. That was enough for her.

So she simply laid back, rested her head on his chest, and closed her eyes, waiting for sleep to fall over her.

She was right about to fall asleep, when her husband's voice brought her back to conciousness.

“I saw Luke’s bike on the driveway.”

“Mmh…” she hummed, tiredly, “he must have left it there after coming back from Mike’s house. I always tell him to leave it on the porch, but he doesn’t-”

“No, it’s not about that...” he dismissed her, clearing his throat, “did he come home late tonight?”

“Just before you arrived.” She answered. “Why?”

Her husband didn’t reply right away, and she could tell he was carefully deliberating on the correct thing to answer her.The one that explained the most, without revealing much.

“From now on, tell him to not come so late at night.” He said, dryly. His voice had trembled in a very unlikely manner for him. Was it fear?

“Why?” She asked, perplexed. Luke knew he couldn’t come home that late, but Hawkins had always been a pretty uneventful place, so Holly wasn’t as strict with curfew.

“Well… let's just say one can never be too careful.” He added, and the harsh way in which he hugged her indicated Holly she wasn’t to ask anymore questions about it.

But she had learnt to be okay with it. She was used to half truths.

******

should this become a series? thank you so much for reading!

next part

#dr brenner #martin brenner #dr brenner x original female character #martin brenner x original female character #dr brenner x reader #martin brenner x reader #stranger things #doctor brenner #doctor brenner x original female character #doctor brenner x reader

99 notes · View notes

watchmegetobsessed · 3 years

Text

Crushing - Harry Styles

a/n: just a little something that was inspired by a tiktok and @pastequeharry !

pairing: Harry X Famous!Reader

word count: 2.2k

masterlist

“Welcome back, I hope has everyone returned from our little break because we are playing a fun little game with Y/N, who by the way won a Grammy award for best new artist this weekend, so congratulations on that!”

Ellen smiles at you widely as she claps along with the audience and you’re just smiling shyly, still not quite used to the sound of it.

“Thank you,” you nod looking around.

“Okay, we are going to play a round of who’d you rather. Are you familiar with the game?” she asks you.

“Yes, I’ve seen others play it before.”

“Great. For those who don’t know the game, two people will show up on the screen and Y/N will have to choose one. Whoever she chooses will come with us to the next round and at the end we’ll know who is her ultimate crush.”

“Ah man,” you huff, feeling a little nervous about who they are gonna show you and the audience laughs at your reaction as your fingers dig into the armrest of the armchair you’re sitting comfortably in.

“Are you ready?” Ellen questions with a smile that tells you just how much she is enjoying this.

“I don’t think I’ll ever be, but let’s get started,” you chuckle nervously.

“Okay, let’s see our first pair,” she starts and two pictures show up on the big screen and on the smaller one at the front of the stage so you don’t have to crane your neck. “So we have Zendaya and Tom Holland. Who are you choosing?”

“You really had to start with two of my biggest Marvel crushes?!” you whine and the audience starts laughing again as you chew on your bottom lip, trying to decide. “I love them both, but I’m gonna have to go with Zendaya, because in height, we would be better. I’m sorry Tom, I still love you!” you declare, looking around all cameras, hoping they all got your confession.

“Alright. So now we’ll keep Zendaya and move on to the next person, who is… Harry Styles. Zendaya or Harry Styles?”

The blood rushes out of your face as you see a picture of Harry, memories of the two of you meeting at the award show in the weekend flooding back to your mind. Harry has been a crush of yours since probably forever. You’ve been a fan of his since his One Direction days and your career started to take off sometime around the time he started his solo career, only difference is that it took you a little longer to earn yourself a name in the industry. But this weekend you finally met him for the first time, in real life, without you just watching him on the stage with four other men.

You spotted him at the area that led to the red carpet, he was about to step out when his eyes laid on you and though he was wearing a mask, you still knew he was smiling from the little wrinkles in the corners of his eyes. Your breath caught in your throat, stopping in your track as you were holding up your gown so you wouldn’t trip and fall with all the cameras around.

“Y/N! Hi!” he greeted you stepping closer, as if the two of you were old friends.

“Hi!” you managed to speak up, feeling completely starstruck.

“Love the gown! You look wonderful!” he complimented you and you could feel your cheeks heating up so fast.

“Oh, thank you, but I think you’re stealing the show with the boas,” you chuckled making him laugh as well.

“Thank you. Congrats on the nomination, I really hope you win by the way.”

“You do?”

“Of course. Listened to the album, it’s really good,” he nodded and your heart skipped a beat. Harry Styles listened to your album and he liked it? This must be Heaven, but when did you die?

“Thank you so much! I hope you win too, though your chances are better with your three nominations,” you joked making him laugh again.

“Yeah, just a little,” he nodded. “Here, let me help you.” He offered you his arm helping you step up the few steps that lead to the area where the red carpet photos were taken and you were thankful for the help, though you could already hear all the camera’s clicking in your way and you knew the photos would be all over the internet by the next day.

You only met one more time during the evening and you could only congratulate to each other on the wins before you both were snatched away, but you still play your conversation with him in your head before you go to bed in the evening.

“Um, Zendaya is everything but I’m gonna play this game honestly so I’ll choose Harry.”

The audience starts cheering and clapping at the decision as Ellen smirks at you, nodding along.

“No need to be shy, we all have a crush on Harry probably,” she jokes making you laugh. “Okay, next up we have… Harry Styles and The Weeknd.”

“I’m gonna stick to Harry,” you answer probably a little too fast, but if you’re being honest, they can’t show you anyone at this point who would beat Harry.

“Harry stays, next we have Harry and… Florence Pugh.”

“You guys made sure to make it hard for me!” you chuckle staring at the screen. “But I’m still gonna stick to Harry, though I love them both.”

“Alright, for the next round we have Harry Styles and Niall Horan.”

“I’m upset, because as a One Direction fan, I should not be forced to choose between them,” you point at Ellen, giving her a hard look which the audience finds quite hilarious.

“I’m sure you had ranked them before, don’t be shy,” she smirks and you sigh rolling your eyes.

“Okay, no offence to anyone but Harry stays. Sorry Niall, I still love you though,” you add with a smile.

“Harry is in a winning streak, it seems. Okay, let’s see his next opponent. Harry against Chris Evans.”

“Harry,” you answer with a sigh, crossing your legs, knowing well you will not choose anyone over Harry.

“Fast answer, great. Harry Styles or Ariana Grande.”

“Love Ariana, she’s a queen, but Harry,” you answer with a smile, the audience enjoying your obsession over Harry Styles and at this point you are not even trying to hide it.

“Harry Styles or Henry Cavill?”

“Harry,” you answer right away.

Henry’s picture disappears and Harry’s moves to the middle as the game comes to its end.

“Seems like we have a winner here. Harry Styles beat everyone!” Ellen chuckles as you glance at the big screen, blushing a little, but you are hoping your makeup is covering it well.

“You said it yourself, everyone has a crush on him,” you shrug, trying to play it cool.

“Yes, but not everyone was helped out by him,” she smirks as a photo of the two of you appears on the screen from last weekend and you cover your face with your hands as the audience goes wild.

“He is a gentleman,” you sigh dreamily.

“He really is and I have to say that the two of you look great together.”

“Oh stop it,” you chuckle, playing it over a little, just to make it less obvious how giddy even the thought makes you.

“Well, now we know that he is your number one choice, hopefully he’ll take the next step,” Ellen chuckles before moving on and asking you a few more questions as part of your appearance on the show.

Weeks go by and you kind of forget about the whole interview. It blows up the next few days, but nothing really happens, people just get excited that you are crushing on Harry just like everyone else, but it dies down pretty quickly.

You barely recovered from your Grammy win and yet you are already marching towards another milestone in your career. None other than Gucci asked you to be part of their new campaign in an amazing photoshoot and you just couldn’t say no, not that you ever even thought about it. After some online meetings and sending emails back and forth the first fitting’s day has finally arrived and you are buzzing!

Heading down to the showroom to go over every outfit they want you to wear for the photos, you can’t wipe the excited grin off your face. Growing up you could only dream about owning anything Gucci, now you are going to be promoting them so it truly is a dream come true.

Arriving you are walked into the showroom that is now filled with racks of clothes and there’s a podium with three mirrors surrounding it for the fitting.

“Y/N! Hi! So nice to finally meet you after all the emails and calls!” Nancy, the creative director of the campaign greets you.

“Nice to meet you too!”

“We are in a little bit of delay, I’m very sorry about that, but we can start in about ten minutes, if that’s alright with you.”

“Oh, no worries. I’m free all day,” you assure her before she thanks your patience and runs off to finish off whatever she was doing before.

Wandering around you take a look at the beautiful clothes on the racks, blown by basically everything you see and you can’t wait to wear the outfits that were meant for you. In the back of the room, a part is closed off for a changing area and you hear the door opening as Nancy walks out first, talking to someone following her behind and when you see the person, you freeze.

Harry Styles walks out, wearing a just a shirt and jeans, looking very casual but still, unbelievably hot. The man could wear a potato sack and still look better than any other men.

“Thank you so much,” he smiles at Nancy before his eyes lay on you, a wide smirk tugging on his lips in realization. “So nice to see a familiar face!” he beams, walking closer before he pulls you in for a short hug that catches you by surprise, but also warms your chest.

“Hi, didn’t expect to see you here, though you are kind of one with the brand at this point,” you tease him making him laugh.

“I am, yeah. I heard that you would be featured in the campaign as well. Amazing choice,” he smirks, glancing over at Nancy who smiles proudly, clearly agreeing with him.

“Y/N, I’ll get the changing room ready for you and we can start in five, alright?” Nancy informs you.

“Yeah, thank you!” You nod in her way and she is already off to do the work, leaving you and Harry alone.

“So, I learned some interesting information the other day,” he hums with a serious face and he got you curious about what it could be.

“Yeah?”

“Mhm, you know, I was watching The Ellen Show and you were on, playing a little game.”

“Oh my God,” you breathe out, already feeling the heat crawling up your neck to your cheeks. Harry smirks down at you, clearly enjoying that he got you so nervous and embarrassed of what happened.

“I wish I knew about your little crush earlier!” he teases you, making your groan.

“And why is that? So you could pull my leg at the Grammy’s when I was already shitting my pants?”

Harry lets out a chuckle shaking his head as he hides his hands in his pockets, his eyes running up and down your figure before they meet with your gaze again.

“No. Because then I wouldn’t have talked myself down from asking for your number.”

You can’t help the stunned reaction that takes over your face at his blunt flirting, your lips part as your eyebrows shoot up while Harry just stares back at you with a sly smirk on his deliciously pink lips.

“Oh, is that so?”

“Yeah, but now that I know that you are crushing on me just like I’m crushing on you, I think it’s time to make the first step. So…” he pulls his phone out and hands it over to you and continues while you type your number in. “I’m not just asking for your number, but I happened to hear that you have nothing else planned for the day, is that true?”

“It is,” you nod, feeling out of breath as you hand him back his phone, your number saved in his contacts.

“Then how about grabbing lunch after your fitting? I happen to have nothing today as well, we should take advantage of it,” he suggests and you can’t push your stunned smile down.

“Sounds good,” you nod, biting into your bottom lip.

“Great. I’ll run some errands while you are here and I’ll be back in about an hour.”

“You could stay here if you want, I don’t mind it,” you tell him, feeling like he is only leaving because he doesn’t want to intrude.

“I would love to, but I really want to see the final outcome of the campaign and not spoil it for myself,” he smirks making you chuckle.

“Alright. Then see you in an hour.”

“Yeah,” he nods with a boyish smirk before turning around and walking out of the showroom.

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed it!

#harry #styles #harry styles #harry styles fluff #harry styles blurb #harry styles oneshot #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagine #harry styles au #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n

2K notes · View notes

laurensprentiss · 3 years

Text

Games We Play [Hotch x Reader]

Chapter 8:

A/N: I cannot believe this is what I am offering you guys after all this time, please forgive me. Bossy but calculating Hotch, childish banter, tension, Hotch is actually nice sometimes, allusions to their past and first ever meeting (keep your eyes open) and a big plot reveal at the end. Hotch actually does something nice for reader. Twice.

Warnings: Swearing, possessive, kinda bossy Hotch. Tension, mentions of alcohol. Pretty tame chapter in comparison to previous ones.

------

The night Hotch leaves to go back to New York, you call JJ and tear her a new one. You end up having to come clean about having never passed on the dinner invitation for Hotch in the first place and she makes a passing comment about how she’d never expected Hotch to fly out all the way to DC for one dinner.

She’s right. The only logical explanation? He’s mentally unstable.

The next morning in the car, JJ lectures him the entire way to the Hamptons where they’re meeting another prospective donor. “Do you know what people would say if they found out you were wasting jet fuel and using a private plane to make pleasure trips to DC?” She asks, scribbling notes.

“You’ve met her mother, I wouldn’t exactly call it a pleasure trip.”

“The point still stands. No more spur of the moment flights to DC to harass my best friend. Now focus up, read the file Garcia put together on the donor.”

Over the week and a half he’s been in New York, he’s been put in front of millionaires, even a few billionaires, old money tycoons and new money Silicon Valley types, in an attempt to drum up enough money for his coming campaign. He feels like a call girl, and JJ is his pimp, telling him to smile sweetly, and weave in a mention about hunting here, or golf there.

He needs to tread lightly if what he thinks is true. He’s still waiting on confirmation from Garcia but he can feel it. Your repeated mentions of bribery in the hearings four years ago have lit a fire under him about his integrity. If bribery charges come out now, his campaign is fucked before he’s even had a chance to begin.

Might as well put his all into his work while he can.

In the meantime, he sits in a home style Italian diner in The Hamptons, complete with red and white checkered tablecloths and a wood burning oven in the back. Donors usually prefer to do meetings in five star restaurants and swanky hotels, but JJ mentioned something about this donor being a down-to-earth old money guy who used his family fortune to branch out with his own publishing and media conglomerate.

JJ swats his arm and gets up, muttering. “Look alive, Hotch. He’s here.”

He follows her lead, standing too, for a short older man with olive skin, a full head of grey hair and a grey goatee. He wears a button down and a blazer, a pair of slacks and a large ring on his ring finger. JJ immediately goes to greet him, circling around their table to shake his hand but he swats her away, breaking into a smile and taking her into his arms instead.

“Jennifer! It’s good to see you again!” His voice is seasoned, a little raspy, like too many years of smoking cigars have taken their toll.

“It’s good to see you, too! How’s Joy?” She leads him to Hotch.

“Busy making me lose all my hair by chasing after serial killers.” He mutters.

JJ chuckles, gesturing between the two men. “David Rossi, this is Senator Aaron Hotchner. Aaron Hotchner, this is David Rossi.”

Hotch takes Rossi’s outstretched hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Rossi.”

“Ah please. Call me Dave.” He shakes his head, taking a seat. JJ and Hotch follow suit, albeit tentatively. “Now, I’ve heard a lot of good things about you from Jennifer. I understand you’re planning on running for office.”

“That’s right, Sir.” When the older man gives him a warning look, he corrects himself quickly, holding up his hands. “Sorry- Dave.”

The older man smiles, twisting the ring on his finger. “Look, I’ve never been one for small talk and fanciful meetings, and I think you’re a man who appreciates that so I’ll cut to the chase.” JJ shifts next to Hotch, sitting straighter. “My family and I have made a lot of money and I want to finally put it to good use. I’ve seen your work, I like you, and I think we align pretty well politically - although you’re a little more fiscally liberal than I care to be.”

“That’s great-“

The older man holds out his finger. “-However. There are a few things that give me pause. I am first and foremost a family man, and quite frankly, the image you’ve managed to cultivate for yourself is making me doubtful. I don’t know that I can put my full backing into a candidate who doesn’t prioritise the same things I do. I don’t want to put my life’s work and money into somebody America doesn’t trust.”

JJ and Hotch share a knowing look and she’s mindful that she doesn’t have time right now to tear him a new one or tell him I told you so. But she wants to. Desperately. So she does it with her eyes. Reminds him of the years she spent telling him to think and act proactively and not stick it inside anything with a pulse.

“America likes a married man - a family man. Someone easily digestible. And Aaron, that’s just not you right now.”

Shit. Motherfucking shit. His past, or rather, his body count has a way of catching up to him and in the interests of remaining as detached as possible after Haley’s death, he’s ruined his future.

“What if we could change your mind?” Hotch asks, his calculating precision connecting the dots.

“How’s that?” Dave asks.

“Well, the donor retreat is tomorrow night. I’m confident I can prove to you just how much our values align by then.” JJ watches Hotch wearily out of the corner of her eye, he’s far too secure making promises he can’t keep. How the hell does he suppose he’s going to pull this off?

Dave nods, considering it for a long while. The way he examines Hotch and JJ makes them squirm, he’s a little unpredictable and their dreams of the White House rest on convincing him that Hotch isn’t a massive slut.

“Fine. You have until tomorrow night.” Dave confirms, shaking their hands. “Prove me wrong.”

———

That night, Hotch returns to his hotel room with the beginnings of a plan in mind. He completes his nightly ritual as best as he can, and he finishes off the night by checking your camera feed on his laptop. He’s done it everyday since he had the cameras installed and every night, something new manages to annoy him.

The first night away, he learns that you’re essentially an insomniac, staying up until 3, sometimes 4am with cereal as your only real sustenance. The second and third nights, he comes to realise that you have a real issue with fire, diagnoses you as a pyromaniac because he watches you burn through an entire packet of matches just for entertainment.

It’s mildly unsettling.

On the fourth and fifth, he realises that you watch too much mind-numbing TV, and because he sprang for the audio-visual system, he can hear you quote Modern Family until 4 in the morning.

‘Hey, Claire. What’s up?’

‘My fever, you orange jackass.’

“Fuckin’ A,” he mutters, watching you tonight. You’re talking to yourself, muttering about something or other as you work. That goddamn sitcom still plays in the background and with your mood tonight, he’s dreading asking you what he needs to ask you - especially after the dinner he hijacked last night.

He doesn’t want to hear you bitch and whine and he’s certainly not in the mood to be talked back to. He dials your number and waits for you to answer, sits up straight when you look at your phone, roll your eyes and decline his call.

“The fuck?” He dials it again, watches you repeat your previous actions, only this time you flip your phone off. Desperate, he uses his burner and dials your number only for you to pick up this time and his blood boils.

“Hello?”

“What? I gotta use a private number to get you to pick up? I’m getting a little tired of you declining my calls.”

“Jesus. I don’t have time for this .” You roll your eyes. “Goodbye-”

“-Don’t you dare hang up on me.” He mutters.

Your eyes narrow. “Watch your tone. Or what?”

“I’m telling you. You don’t want to hang up on me.” His voice has a tone of finality to it, but you’re too wired to care about whatever he has going on. Mai ko

“Whatever. I gotta go.” He watches you turn your phone off and throw it onto the couch, flipping him off one more time for good measure.

He tries to keep the anger at bay and not overreact but you claw at his skin from the inside out. He calls Anderson who picks up on the fourth ring, his voice croaky.

“Sir?”

“Pull the car around and get the jet ready.”

“Sir, again? It’s midnight.”

“Do it. We’re flying to DC. Within the hour, Anderson.”

“Yes, Sir.” He sighs defeatedly.

———

At 2am, you’re three cups of coffee in, heading fast for a crash. You're a little shaky and your heartbeat’s quick, falling deeper into a spiral of existential dread about your future at work. The mountain of research for the case that Lucas pity-shared with you makes no fucking sense either. You hear a knock at the door and think it’s your TV at first, but the knock is louder and more persistent the second time.

This is a safe complex in a safe neighbourhood, so you make the mistake of not bothering to check the peephole. You only realise the gravity of your mistake when it’s too late, because when you open the door, you’re met with Hotch in a pair of grey sweatpants and a sweatshirt, a dark look swirling in his eyes.

You’ve done it before, you know it doesn’t work, but you do it anyway. You close the door in his face, that doesn’t really close properly anyway because he manages to keep it open with his foot. He steps inside and slams the door behind him, his breathing ragged with anger.

“Get out, Hotch. It’s 2am, what the fuck are you even doing here?”

He stalks forward slowly, making you back up. “I told you not to hang up on me.”

What the hell?

“You’re crazy. You flew from New York to DC again all because I hung up on you? Are you insane? That’s twice you’ve flown here and back in the last 24 hours!” Your backwards steps increase in pace as he steps forward until you have no more room left, your back bumping into the wall.

He crowds you, caging you in against the wall. “Not insane. Just determined. And now, because you refuse to do as you’re told, you’ve lost the opportunity to pack your own stuff.”

“Pack? Pack what, what are you talking about?”

“You’re coming to New York with me. Tonight. Now.”

“The hell I am.” You laugh humorlessly.

He seems to find that amusing because his lips curl into a twisted sort of smile. “Yes, you are, sweetheart. You can either come willingly, or I can take you myself, but you’re coming. And that’s all there is to it.”

You laugh dryly. “You can’t force me. I’m pretty sure that’s kidnapping.”

His eyes flash with intensity and he leans in, his chest brushing against yours, his nose barely touching yours. He smells of toothpaste and a woody cologne that makes your eyes flutter closed. “And I’m pretty sure I can - force you - that is. Last chance. Are you coming willingly or not?”

You squirm and try to push him off you, but he’s too strong. “Not.” You reply.

He inhales sharply. “Fine. Then I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what?” And suddenly your world turns upside down. Literally. He bends to wrap an arm under your ass, and lifts you up, throwing you over his shoulder. You pull and scratch at his sweatshirt, neck, hair, anything you can get your hands on. “Put me down! Put me fucking down, Hotch. I swear to God, I’ll kill you, put me down!”

He swats your ass, sending a zing up your spine as he carries you out of your apartment building and drops you unceremoniously into the back of a town car.

You pull harshly on the door handle a few times but it’s locked. “Let me out, Hotch. I’m not kidding.” The car quickly begins to move, making its way through the city streets but you’re still stuck on leaving. “Why are we moving? Let me out!” Your anger simmers under your skin as you slam against the car windows and you fight the urge to not sock him in the jaw.

“We’re moving because we’re going to New York. I have a donor I need to impress and you’re going to help me do that.”

You laugh humorlessly. “How am I going to do that? I have no ID, how the hell am I supposed to get on a plane?”

He scrunches his face. “You don’t need an ID on a private flight.”

You huff. “You’re not very good at asking for favours, are you? You usually have to do this thing called ‘ask’ and ‘not be a complete asshole’ and kidnapping is never on the docket.” He rolls his eyes, checking his phone. “How do you suppose I’m going to impress this donor of yours? In my pyjamas and fluffy socks? I don’t even have any shoes for goodness sake.”

“We’ll get you some new clothes tomorrow, it’s being taken care of. Here.” He takes his wallet out of his pocket and slides a piece of black plastic across the car seat. “You can use that.”

That’s hot.

But still not okay. There’s no point arguing with him any further because you’re not going to get anywhere with him, you know that.

“What do I need to do?” You ask reluctantly.

“Network, small talk. Big me up, make me seem like a good candidate. Maybe smile at me, do what a loving girlfriend would do.” He purposely says girlfriend so as to not bombard you with his plans for tomorrow. He knows you may just throw yourself out of a moving vehicle if he tells you his real plan.

The desire to make his life a little more difficult doesn’t pass you by, though. The need to tell him what you think of him far outweighs any semblance of maturity or the concept of rising above you may have. “Difficult to do when I don’t have a lower opinion of anybody than I do of you.”

“Trust me, the feeling is mutual. Lucky for me, I don’t care what you think. I thought we’d already established this.”

Asshole. But if there’s one thing you can get out of a reluctant favour, it’s leverage. And you need all the leverage you can get right now. You look at him out of the corner of your eye and speak evenly. “Fine. But if I’m doing this for you, you have to do something for me.”

“I don’t have to do anything.”

You smile sweetly. “And I don’t have to impress this donor. In fact, I could meet with him, tell him what I really think about you, and nuke your career like you did mine, your dreams of the White House and any future you hope to have.”

He licks his front teeth agitatedly and drops his phone in his lap. “Fine. What?”

“I want you to look over the preliminary bill. It’s-“

“-Done.”

“-Really?” You ask, taken aback. It’s not like him to agree to something so quickly, not least of all when it’s you that’s asking.

“Yes.” He sighs. “I don’t care much to hear you plead your case and whinge and whine for the next two hours. So yes, I’ll look your handiwork over. I’ll be sure to bring a pen though, no doubt I’ll have to gut it and rework it.”

“Fuck you, Hotch.”

“Oh yeah? You change your mind?” He drawls suggestively. “Dinner was nice last night. Good to finally put a face to the people responsible for such a high-maintenance, preppy princess.”

“And who’s responsible for making you a cold and entitled, miserable ass?”

“My childhood nanny, probably. She raised me.” He says, matter-of-factly. A small laugh escapes you but you wonder if that’s true. You wonder if he was raised by housekeepers and nannies and au pairs his entire life and suddenly you’re a little more grateful for your own parents.

Despite the overwhelming pressure and the constant nagging and the not-so-subtle criticism, you have no doubt that your parents love you and care for your well-being. At least they were conscientious enough not to dump you and your sister on outside help during your childhood. Which is not asking a lot of a parent, but from the circles you and Hotch hail from, it’s par for the course for strangers to raise your children, and you can place a safe bet that Hotch falls into that category.

You ponder on that until you arrive at the airfield. His assistant - who you learn is called Anderson - corrals staff and makes phone calls arranging for tomorrow’s retreat. Hotch steps out of the car and opens your door for you, waiting for you to exit but you cross your arms over your body and remain seated. He’s too distracted by his phone to notice at first, but when he does, he slides it into his pocket and grits his teeth angrily.

“What are you waiting for? Hustle.”

“The floor’s wet. And I’m cold.” You reply petulantly.

“That’s my problem, why?”

“Because you kidnapped me and didn’t even give me a chance to put any shoes on! Or a coat!” You kick his shin. “I’m not putting my bare feet on wet pavement, that’s disgusting.” Your face contorts and he honest to God could think it’s one of the funniest things he’s seen if he wasn’t raging.

“They’re not bare. You’re wearing socks.”

“Fuck off, Hotch.”

He checks his watch, it’s almost 3am. “Oh my fucking- you’re so annoying.” He grumbles under his breath along with a string of incoherent sentences. He pulls his sweatshirt over his head, leaving him in only a tight fitting T-shirt that hugs his shoulders. “Fine. Hold your arms out.”

You do as you’re told and he slips the sweatshirt on your body with a surprising amount of gentleness, caring enough to untuck your hair from inside the neckline. He then slides his arms around your waist, yours wrapping around his neck as he lifts you out of the car and into the cold night air.

You go limp against him on purpose, weighing yourself down, making it hard for him to carry you but he maneuvers you roughly, putting a large hand on the backs of each of your thighs so your legs wrap around his hips. And while your skin still prickles with annoyance and frustration, the position you’re in doesn’t feel so unnatural.

“Remember, I’m owed my monthly allowance on the 25th.” You remind him happily.

“I’m starting to think you’re more trouble than you’re worth.” He grumbles, squeezing your thigh.

“Yeah? What are you going to do? Off me?” You tease.

———

Finding yourself without any decent clothes this morning, you’re relegated to one of Hotch’s too-large shirts and a pair of not-so-great jeans you’d had Anderson go out and buy as soon as it was light out. Thankfully, you’re able to roll the sleeves of his shirt up and tuck one bottom side into your jeans, and you force yourself into thinking it looks somewhat classy-chic.

It does. Kind of.

Hotch had bumped into you in the hallway as you were leaving your room, taken off guard by your outfit, mumbling something under his breath and walking away irritated. Truthfully, the sight of you in his shirt had complicated things, conflicted him, because while frustration swells in his chest at the mere mention of you, he can’t seem to shake the hold you have on him.

And it extends further than just four years ago. You don’t seem to remember. But he hasn’t forgotten.

Meanwhile, in the hotel lobby, you fish around the back pocket of your jeans and flash JJ the black Amex Hotch had tossed to you yesterday.

You return to the hotel at around five, new clothes, shoes, purses and accessories in tow and begin getting ready for the dinner that begins at 8. You still don’t know much about the donor, only that he’s fairly traditional and could possibly be the big fish Hotch’s campaign needs. You feel a little deflated at prospect of being a man’s accessory tonight, to make him seem like a great candidate in front of a who’s who of rich Manhattanites.

You’d pursued a career so you could avoid having to do that. If you wanted to be a trophy wife, you could have stayed with Christopher and endured the passionless, banal life your mother would have chosen for you.

You sigh, giving yourself a once over in the mirror. JJ has knocked on your door three times already and if you don’t get a move on, you’re afraid Hotch might actually carry you down to the car. It's not like you’d put it past him.

It’s dark when you finally get outside and you find Hotch leaning against the towncar, distracted by his phone like he usually is, but the sight of him makes your steps falter for a brief moment.

You have to remind yourself to keep your brain in check, to not get sidetracked by his looks. He stands tonight in a grey, perfectly tailored suit, a light shirt and a light grey tie to match - he’s the epitome of old school class and you hate him for it. JJ throws you a teasing look before she gets in her own car, the kind she’d give you in law school whenever a crush walked by. Except this isn’t a crush. This is hate.

“Do you mind moving so I can get in? Or are you planning on making us late?” You nag.

“Like you’re not the one who’s been primping and priming since 5pm…” He trails off when he averts his gaze from his phone and looks at you, really looks at you. The asshole has a way of burning people with his eyes and it’s certainly making your cheeks heat up.

“Move.” You swat him with your purse like a bug, moving him away from the door. He opens it for you, and watches you get in from behind, blood rushing to his extremities at your exposed legs. He falls in line, getting in next to you and you’re off. You weave your way through city traffic, the night lights twinkling as you pass them by.

He clears his throat, pulling you from your thoughts. “Listen, I need you to wear this.” He holds a royal blue velvet box in his hands that looks suspiciously like it could have a ring inside.

Anxiety creeps up your neck against the prospect of being laid bare in your vulnerability at this moment. “We said three months, right?”

“Three months. Now. What difference does it make? It’s going to happen eventually, now do as you’re told.”

“Do as I’m told?” You repeat. “The difference is I’m not ready yet.” You say defensively. “My parents barely even managed to digest the fact that I was ‘dating’ you, I can’t show up to dinner next week, engaged!”

“Look, I’ll help you break the news to your parents, alright? We’ll tell them after the dinner, whatever you want, just wear this tonight.

“You’re out of your mind if you think you’re coming to dinner next week.”

“Boo hoo. Look, the donor we’re meeting - he’s expecting a fiancée or a wife - not a girlfriend.” You stare him down in a desperate attempt to get him to back off but he appears unguarded himself at this moment. “There’s no other way.”

“This better be fucking worth it.” You mutter. “Hand it over.” You outstretch your hand to take the box but he takes yours in his and turns it over. “What are you doing?” You ask, immediately snatching your hand back.

“Putting the ring on you.” He reaches for your hand again but you pull away. “What are you doing?”

You frown. “Just give it here, I’ll do it.“

“Quiet.” He ignores you like you’re a child, yanking you forward by your hand. His touch is rough at first, but it softens only slightly, his thumb absently rubbing the back of your hand. He slides the ring on your finger, rotating it so the emerald cut diamond sits properly in the centre.

You don’t know whether it’s the apparent vulnerability etched on his face or the city lights, but you swear he could almost pass as human in this brief moment. Then, he tosses your hand back into your lap when he’s done, and suddenly he’s back to himself again. He tucks the box back in his inside pocket and reaches for his phone again, taking a few calls while you ponder your immediate future.

You absentmindedly play with the ring on your finger. Fighting with Hotch had allowed you to repress the reality that you were really going to marry this guy, but the heavy rock on your finger pulls you back into the harsh truth. Even if he were to win the election, this alliance may ruin any chance you have at dating anybody after him. After all, Ex Wife of President-slash-Presidential Candidate Hotchner is a lot of baggage to carry.

There’s no chance of spotting stars in the middle of New York City but you note the twinkling lights of high rises make it appear as though the city smog has cleared momentarily.

You should be so lucky.

Next to you, Hotch dives into his work to distract himself from you. He’d spent the better part of today with a knot in his stomach at the prospect of giving you the ring, memories of Haley clawing their way to the surface. Memories that he clings to with equal vigour as well to prevent him from becoming too attached to any one person.

The last time he’d proposed to a woman, it had been different.

You eventually happen upon the private country club in the Hamptons, located on the scenic beachfront, right next to the glittering water. The wrought iron gates are opened by two security guards, leading you to a winding, lit driveway. Wait staff appear to be floating with trays in their hands, tight-lipped women in cocktail dresses hold their champagne flutes a little too tightly, and the men look stuffy.

JJ dismounts the car in front of you first with Anderson trailing behind her, then you and Hotch. You inhale deeply as the valet opens your door and you’re met by the brisk seaside air which puts goosebumps on your skin.

“Alright, guys. Are we ready? Best feet forward, this donor is the key to securing this run.” JJ reminds you over the faint classical music in the background. She looks pointedly at your left hand, her gaze lingering wildly on the emerald cut diamond that wasn’t there when you set off.

The gravel pathway to the entrance makes for a difficult walk and in your frustration, and admittedly, hard-headedness you slap Hotch’s arm away when he offers it to you.

“Remind me never to offer you my help out of the goodness of my heart again.” He scowls.

“Unlikely it’s from the goodness of your heart. That thing’s like coal.” If you’re to be his accessory tonight, you definitely don’t need his goddamn help, you’ll walk on your own. You’re made to regret your decision quickly when your Jimmy Choos get stuck in a piece of stubborn pathway and you fall into Hotch’s side, grabbing his strong forearm for balance.

When you’re sufficiently balanced, he snatches his arm away again, throwing you off kilter on purpose, snorting under his breath. Anderson joins in until JJ glares at them. “Give her your arm or lose it, Hotch. Now is not the time.” She hisses.

He rolls his eyes and you reluctantly wrap your forearm and hands around his strong bicep, using him for balance up the pathway. “Who taught you to walk, smartass? You’re like a freshly birthed calf.” He murmurs out of JJ’s earshot as you enter the main foyer.

You grab a glass of champagne, leaning into him. He still had a decent amount of height on you, despite your choice in shoes which means his cologne wafts into your nose when you turn your head. “It’s because I’m wearing heels, Senator. Heels… which could puncture your leg nicely if you don’t stop pissing me off.”

“Jesus, has anyone ever told you, you might have anger issues?” He rolls his eyes but swallows thickly at your use of his title.

He takes stock of the room, and drags you along with him, wherever he goes, pulling you this way and that until JJ and Hotch both go stiff as a board suddenly, their gazes fixated to their left.

You follow their line of sight and double take, your eyes bulging. “Uncle Dave?!” You break into a smile, letting go of Hotch who watches you, stunned. “Hi!”

He breaks out into a face splitting smile, holding out his hands. “Cara mia! Oh, come here, let me look at you!” Dave grabs both sides of your face, planting a kiss on either cheek and taking you into his arms like he did when you were a kid. “What are you doing here, your parents didn’t mention you were in New York.” His eyes fall to your left hand and he gasps, immediately grasping it in his hand, holding it out to catch the light. “And what is this?”

You laugh uncomfortably, looking between Dave and Hotch. You’re about to utter these words for the first time ever and you’d always assumed you’d be happier than you are right now.

“I’m… well. I guess I’m engaged!” You tell him. “Uncle Dave, this is Aaron, Aaron, this is my uncle Dave. Our families go way back.”

The two men’s eyes widen in recognition as Hotch steps forward to shake Dave’s hand. “Yeah. We met yesterday.” He pulls you in, placing his hand on your back, the warm, light pressure making you twitch. You’re still outing the pieces together when Hotch interrupts your thoughts. “Honey, Dave is the donor I was telling you about, I had no idea you guys even knew each other.” He says.

This is a done deal.

Dave nods slowly. “Huh, you really weren’t kidding when you said you could change my mind - this is definitely a step in the right direction.” He looks at JJ. “I can see now why you were so confident.”

“Small world.” You muse. “How’s Krystal?”

“Ah, you know what she’s like at these things, she’s probably outside watching the waves come in. Why don’t you go on and find her while we talk business?”

There it is again. The infantilization. The implication that you don’t know how business and politics work, and God will these high-powered men ever change? Ivy League education, community service, drive, ambition but you’re still the woman who has to make nice with the other women while the men talk shop. You smile though, like you’ve always been taught to do and JJ decides to join you when Hotch gives her a look of confidence.

The two men walk away while you grab a champagne flute and make the rounds, greeting guests with a kiss, accepting their congratulations on your ‘engagement’. By the end of the night, you’re exhausted and sitting outside beneath the massive pergola watching the waves roll in.

Hotch has since managed to persuade Dave that he’s the right candidate for him to back, and with the added bonus of you on board, he’s more than happy to oblige. He’s making his way outside to join you and JJ to tell you the happy news when he stops in his tracks, just shy of the doors to listen to you.

“It’s so frustrating, you know? Like I made one mistake, four years ago and everyone in that office treats me like I’m not to be trusted with anything ever again.”

“I’m sorry, hon.” JJ reassures you, rubbing your shoulders.

“I was sure I had it in the bag. I know I should let it go but I still can’t believe he paid Lahey off. And now look at me, I’m still stuck in the same place, it’s like fucking deja-vu, only now, I’m engaged to the man.” You laugh humorlessly, repeating the words slower this time as if to digest them properly. “I’m engaged… to the man that ruined everything I worked so hard to build… by bribing a chairwoman.”

There it is again. The bribery allegation that he knows nothing about but is becoming an increasingly bigger source of alarm.

He hears you sigh. “You know, I went to the office yesterday and Gideon sent me straight home, threw the paper in my face with that picture of me and Hotch on it - said office gossip was distracting people and I should go home.”

Suddenly your half-day makes a lot more sense to him.

The barest of guilt tugs at his insides, he couldn’t care less about you he reaffirms, but he’s still a believer in karma. Plus he figures he owes you one for tonight. That’s the only reason. Not the fact that it’s becoming clear to him that your hatred for him may be justified, but it isn’t entirely clear to him why he hates you.

Is it the way your first ever meeting ended? Even years before the judiciary hearings? The meeting that he remembers clearly but you evidently don’t?

Nah.

Stepping away, he pulls out his phone, and dials the direct line to DC Attorney General Racine who promised Hotch any favour he wanted after he’d pulled some strings to get him out of a bind a few years ago. He figures he could have probably used Racine as the prize cow of all favours, cashing it in when he was in really dire straits, but what the hell. Who doesn’t pull strings for someone they hate?

Right?

As soon as he’s done giving Racine specific directions - who reassures him that his problem will be taken care of by Monday - Garcia’s name flashes up on screen. He exhales in relief. “Gimme something good, Garcia.”

“Well, that’s just it, Sir. I have an answer for your question but I don’t think you’re going to like it.”

“What is it?” He sighs, rubbing his temple.

“You were right. Four instalments of $20,000 each were made to Chairwoman Lahey around four years ago - during the hearings. They were rerouted through multiple proxies and offshore accounts but I managed to track them down.”

His ears ring and he feels as though the ground has shifted from beneath his feet. You were right and he’s astute enough to put the pieces together himself but he asks anyway. “From?”

“Phillip Hotchner.” She replies.

He paid her off. The son of a bitch paid her off.

———

< Prev | Next >

Tags: @ravena-reddington @elroymarvelous @vashanatasha @anything-and-everything-20 @enilledam @lovelybucky1-fics @azenpal @rexit-mo @glamrxckqueen @dreamy-moments @dontcallmekittens @theradkid @cilliansgirl @ellyhotchner @helloitsmeamie203 @screechingshepherddeputygoth @hopelesslylosttheway @cunning-serpent @a-weird-athlete @paging-all-the-fandoms @moonbottle @laisy @folklorereputation @simpfo @sparklinghosewater @harrypotteranna23-blog @trinimalfoyyy @yallgotkik @dracofxckingluciusmalfoy @annistep @ijustwannaread2k19 @lifeisgood-eventually @hotchnerundercover @savagetacoqueen @flipperpenguins @namaisvu @punkygemini @shawnsblue @idcrrvh @0161worthyonthemap @usemelucifer @babyb3ar @angelfxllcm @istillthinkaboutyouatnight @cupcakelord2000 @romanogersendgame @averyhotchner @harrypotteranna23-blog @itsmytimetoodream

152 notes · View notes