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foxilayde · 1 year

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Half of You (part 5) [Santiago x Fem!Reader]

Summary: the Baby Daddy Santi chronicles are back, baybee!

Warnings: a little angst, a little fluff.

Rating: 18+ ONLY. minors DNI.

Word Count: 5.2k

A/N: I KNOW IT'S BEEN FOREVER (see: "definition of "forever"", meaning: 107 days). thank you for being so patient. As always reblogs are rewarded with a virtual hug if you're into that sorta thing. And if you're not on the taglist and you distinctly remember asking me to add you to the taglist, pls lmk, I'm dreadful at keeping that stuff organized. Much love to you all.

Fish disembarks with a playful nudge of your woodpile with the toe of his boot. “Good luck with your project, hermosa.”

“You can come check it out on Thrusday, bring me a little housewarming plant for it, huh? Something pretty.”

He gives you a lazy salute and wink. You don’t watch as he pulls out of Santi’s driveway. You zone out, staring at the clean vertical lines of your freshly shorn lawn. You can hear Santi still wrenching and clanking around in the kitchen. You didn’t hear their whole conversation, just bits and pieces, the fucking window was open and it wasn’t like you were trying to give them privacy anyway. You feel a bout of nausea swell in your throat and you can’t tell if its guilt, or if it’s morning sickness, or if its from the ungodly heat or a bodily reaction to the fertility hormones, but you feel on the edge of vomiting. You rest a palm over your lower abdomen. It could be in there right now. Jay’s face pops into your head and you want to cry. You take a deep breath and rest your head against the slatted outer wall of your craftsman home. You don’t know how long you’ve been staring out at the lawn with the echos of Fish’s words humming against the insides of your skull when the clanking stops and Santi comes to join you on the porch.

“Filters all set up, I’m letting the water run. The booklet said it has to go for an hour until it’s good to drink.”

You don’t respond, so he continues,

“I put the five gal under it though, so it catches all the water… I googled it and it said that the filtration test water is safe for plants, so maybe you can use it on some—“

You cover your face with your hands to hide the tears that well up in your eyes.

“Hey!” Santi crouches down to your level quickly with his popping knees and puts a reassuring arm around your shoulder. “What’s wrong?” You shake your head, still hiding your eyes and you laugh incredulously.

“Nothing. Nothing’s wrong. Thank you, Santi.” You sniff a sob and laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation.

“Could’ve fooled me with the waterworks, I— what’s this pile of… stickers?”

You wipe your eyes to see that Santi’s brow is scrunched, investigating the clump of alphabet’d small stickers in between his fingers.

“It’s… I thought…” you hiccup. Dammit.

Santi laughs. “Don’t tell me, Vin. Did the little earthquake I caused make the stickers fall off?”

You sniff the snot back into your nose and you nod. “You know what? That’s exactly how it happened.”

“And then they all banded together in a pile to hide from the aftershocks?”

“Nailed it. Two for two. You’re on a roll.”

You take a deep breath, hiccuping despite your best composed efforts, and Santi fully lowers himself beside you, arm still around your shoulders. He squeezes you close to his side. He smells like sweat and basil, lemons and lawn clippings.

Santi follows your line of vision to the freshly manicured lawn. “Are you crying about the hedges? I know I did them a little bit short this time, but—“

“I heard Fish.”

Santi’s grip loosens almost imperceptibly and he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose with his free hand.

“He doesn’t know what he’s talking about, Vin. Love the guy to death but he’s been a martyr since recovery. ”

You nod in reluctant agreement.

“Hey….People are going to think what they’re going to think. It won’t stop with Frank.”

“Yeah I know it’s…”

The lawn is pretty. You hone in on a bee writhing on a violet blossom.

“It’s the hormones, I think.”

You know its a lie, even as it leaves your mouth. It doesn’t convince you and you sure as shit know it doesn’t convince Santiago.

“Hormones, huh? Sorry about that.”

You hiccup and laugh, “not your fault. No need to apologize.”

Santi stretches his legs out from under himself and sighs. “Well if the turkey basting did it’s job, I think it’s only fair I share partial blame, don’t you think?” His grip tightens on you once more and you laugh through a fresh bout of tears, you rest your head on his sweat dampened cotton shirt, wriggling your nose to alleviate the itch.

“I’m sorry.” You whisper as a fresh flood of tears escape.

“C’mon, Vin. You don’t have anything to be sorry about.” He kisses the top of your forehead casually and rubs your shoulder, letting you shift closer to him, wrapping your arms around his middle.

“But I do. I really really do.” You bury your face into his cotton clothed chest. “Even fucking now, I can help myself… I cosign you to all my bullshit. You’ve been picking up my broken pieces, letting me cry into your t-shirts since day one, since ground zero. It’s not fair to you.”

“This shirt is filthy anyway.”

You shake your head against his chest.

“This is the hormones talking. That ovulation injection is no joke.”

“Maybe you should go lie down.”

“I’m not tired.”

“Delusional and stubborn, huh?”

You smack his chest lightly.

“Go take a nap, Vin. Lie down. I’ll get you some water… some fresh reverse osmosis water… in an hour.”

It’s hard to move, to leave this spot on the sweltering porch, it’s not exactly comfortable on the floor, but your face is resting on the soft cotton of Santi’s t-shirt. He’s content to let you, just like he’s always been; content to let you call the shots, to dictate the direction, no matter what fucking storm you decide to steer the ship towards.

You eventually concede to a nap and Santi walks you upstairs. He takes off your shoes, and tucks you into your bed, clothes and all. He leaves for a while and in your in-between-states-of-consciousness, Santi sets a glass of water on your nightstand. He’s certainly thinking you’re fast asleep as he pulls your duvet snugly to your ears. You fall asleep totally after he softly closes your bedroom door and when you wake up two hours later, there’s a fully constructed plant shelf on your front porch.

The next few days pass like any other. Every morning you arise to bake something new, forgoing the oven on Tuesday’s sweltering morning temperatures to concoct some no-bake oatmeal cookies that cause Santiago to outright hoard the batch in his fridge, making you promise not to give them out. You’re too cranky and tired on a novel lack of caffeine to put up much of a fight.

You never mention the plant shelf to Santiago, but on Wednesday morning there’s a large pot of vibrant green basil on the shelf which you’re certain is his doing.

On Thursday morning you head to the fertility clinic to test to see if the initial ‘turkey basting’ was successful. They take your urine sample and you twiddle your thumbs, seated with your bare ass on the butcher paper in the empty exam room… they tell you it has.

You’re pregnant. Pregnant. Your heart rate picks up and you have to lie down, the paper crinkling under your back and behind your hair as you cup your mouth with your hands and begin to cry… again. Fucking hormones.

The usual surly nurse congratulates you and tells you to come back in eight weeks for the ultrasound. Ultrasound.

You don’t trust yourself to drive home straight away. You wonder around the neighboring shopping complex and people-watch families. Families on evening walks, families out to dinner, families smiling, families bickering… You hold your abdomen and laugh to yourself. And cry. Again.

By the time you get home, the sun has already gone down. Santi’s driveway holds additional cars, like most Thursday evenings. the boys are over to watch the game. You quietly exit your car, you sit in the dark on your porch swing and watch Santi, Will, Benny, Frank, and Tom through Santi’s dining room window. They clap shoulders, hold cans of beer and shout playfully at one another. The noises are an unintelligible hum that swells in your heart. After about 30 minutes, Fish drags Santi to the front window and points to the street. Santiago cups his hands against the blaring light of his living room to peer out into the darkness. He’s looking at your car.

In a matter of moments, Santiago is walking down his driveway and up yours. (he never jumps the hedges. Fastidious, that one.) you smile to yourself as he fixes he hair and squares his shoulders, preparing to ring your doorbell when he spots you in the dark on the swing.

“Vin!” He takes a step towards you and pauses.

“Hey” You don’t know if he can see your face in the shadows or not, but something keeps him from advancing, from joining you on the two-person swing.

“Why aren’t you over there? You didn’t even tell me where you were going today, but, that’s, that’s okay. Everyone’s been asking about you. Ben brought that dip you like and Fish swore up and down that he hasn’t told anyone, besides Rach, obviously. So it’s not as if you have to explain anything. If you don’t want to.”

Santi scratches the back of his neck and takes one more shuffling step closer to the swing. Hesitant. “Vin?”

“I have to tell you something.”

Even in the dim lighting you can see Santi’s demeanor sobering up. He crosses his arms and immediately responds, “Okay, yeah, I have to tell you something too.”

“I— huh?” You weren’t expecting any new information.

“You first.” You can’t see his face but you know him so well that you know by his tone of voice the exact face he’s making. That defensive clenched jaw thing that he does with the upwards chin tilt. You’d bet a million dollars that his chin is high in the air.

“Come sit.”

It takes a few beats before Santiago joins you on the porch swing, but he eventually does. The chains creak, his knees pop and he exhales expectantly.

You don’t want to keep him from the game, god only knows what important plays he might be missing, so you decide to come out with it.

“I went to the clinic today and—“

“You did?! Why didn’t you tell me? I could have—“

“I wanted to go alone, just in case, I—“

“What’d they—“

“I’m pregnant.”

You’re grateful for the darkness of the porch which keeps Santiago’s expression a mystery. Beyond the hedges, through the glow of Santiago’s living room window, a muffled cheer erupts. Shouting, clapping. Must’ve been an impressive score.

“How are you feeling?”

“Been crying like crazy. Not sad crying. Just lots of crying. Crying for no reason. At sunsets. At families holding hands. At life insurance commercials… At my best friends watching a football game one house away…”

Santi sits there in silence. You can’t even hear him breathing. You continue.

“Other than that, I’m good, I— it still feels unreal, you know? But I feel good about it. It was so quick, too. Wasn’t it? I don’t know why, but for some reason because of all the rigamarole the clinic put me through I thought this process was going to take months or years or something. But, first try, and bam. Which sounds about right when I think about it. It’s you, after all. Mister tactical soap. Of course your swimmers would get into formation and attack at dawn. No survivors.”

“Those ovaries didn’t stand a chance.”

“No they did not.”

“You don’t have to come over if you don’t want to— I can give you some space.”

“No. I want to. I want to see everyone. I know its only been a few weeks but I miss those idiots.”

“Lets do it then.” Santi rises and you hook your arm through his offered elbow. Once you step out into the illuminating glow of the street lamps you see the way his mouth is quirked up in an easy smile. His eyes are slightly glassy from the lagers and the texture of his stubble, the way it folds in at his barely visible smile line… without thinking you run the tip of your finger from the corner of his mouth, up to his ear.

“I like it when you smile, old man.”

The lines deepen around his mouth when his smile expands.

“Congratulations, by the way.”

“Thanks.”

- - - - - - - - -

The get together is a typical Thursday evening fare. The only difference being your abstinence from alcohol and general lack of interest in football has relegated you to maidly duties of replenishing drinks and snacks while the testosterone crew shouts at Santiago’s flatscreen.

The boys are invested the game, but you enjoy watching them watch the game. Benny is by far the most into it, which makes him the star player of the crew. He throws his poor worn ball cap to the ground when the play doesn’t go his way, stands up when he shouts. He claps and hollers when his preferred team scores and paces around during time outs. You might blame his passion on his proximal youth, but you don’t believe time will be capable of stripping him of his fervent fanaticism.

By the time you get there it’s past halftime and the “games a dead horse anyway” according to Will (Benny disagrees). You collect your hugs from each of the boys. The hug from Frankie is longer and tighter than usual.

After the game is over, the boys play some low-stakes poker and one by one each of the crew retreats to the living room to ‘rest their eyes’, the place is a mess, the boys are sloshed and and passed out on the various soft surfaces of Santiago’s living room. You help Santiago clear away the detritus of a night well spent and just before midnight Santiago offers to walk you back home.

“Would you? I wouldn’t want to get lost on my way in the dark, and this sure is a bad neighborhood. Just last week someone stole the Grossman kid’s skateboard off the front lawn. These streets are dangerous.”

“Pipe down, you’ll wake up Tom.”

You glance down at a particular patch of cozy carpet on the living room floor where Tom’s long body is splayed out, snoring like a logging factory. You roll your eyes and stage whisper to Santiago, “Yeah seems like a real Princess and The Pea situation. Better slip out quietly.” You exaggeratedly tiptoe out of the front door and put your finger up to your lips and whisper-yell at Santiago, “Close the door GENTLY!!”

Santiago shakes his head, shuts the door, and joins you on the driveway.

“Oh! Look at the moon!” Its a full one, slightly yellow and impossibly big this evening. “So pretty.”

You don’t know it but Santiago isn’t looking at the moon. He’s looking at you look at the moon. The way your eyes are all big and glittery. That awestruck smile you have. At something as simple and as constant as the fucking moon. ‘Look at the moon she says, how could I possibly look at the fucking moon when she’s so… So what, Yago? What is she?’

Santiago stuffs his hands in is pockets and looks up at the moon. It is pretty.

You grab him by the elbow. “Lets lay on the driveway and look at the sky for a little bit?”

“What? Right now?”

“No. Not right now. How horribly convenient would that be? Lets meet back here at oh three-hundred hours when we’re too sleepy to enjoy it.”

“Fine, wait here.”

Santiago turns to go back in the house.

“What’re you doing?”

“I’m not laying on the driveway without a blanket.”

“Good idea… oh, Santi, while you’re in there can you make me a cup of tea?”

Santi raises his eyebrows. “Herbal tea?”

“Yes. I’ve come around. Matured. One herbal tea please.”

“Coming right up.”

You lay out on the driveway in the warm summer evening, stretching out with your hands behind your head. You get lost in time for a bit, staring at the beautiful clear sky.

Santiago stares at you from the porch. Blanket and tea in hand and admires you quietly, bathed in moonlight. Content. Pregnant. Pregnant with his child. Not his. Yours. Dios.

Santiago spreads out the blanket next to you after handing you the steaming mug. You set it down and scoot over till you’re on the flannel fabric. He lays down next to you, mimicking your hands-behind-head position.

You don’t turn your head to look at him when he speaks. You continue to stare up at the full moon, the clear sky, terrified that he might not be looking up at all.

“You hoping for a boy, or a girl?”

“Hmmm, I don’t know… I guess I’ve always wanted a girl. But after taking care of these dopes for so long, I feel finely attuned to caring for dudes… I’ll be happy either way. How about you Santi, do you have a preference?”

“Do I have a preference? No… no.. I mean. I know you’ll be great no matter what.”

“Yeah, thats a given.” You laugh and nudge his elbow with your own, “but have you had your heart set on either?”

Santi shakes his head, staring at the sky, “I haven’t had my heart set on anything, Vin.”

“I think the gender is the least of my concerns anyway.”

“What’s the most of your concerns?”

“Raising it as a single parent… if I’m co-signing them to a doomed life…”

“You’re gunna do great Vin. Don’t be nervous. I’m here for you.”

“I know. I know you are. You don’t have to be.”

“I know I don’t HAVE to be but I want t—“

“Why though? Why do you feel endebted to me? Why did you do this, let me walk all over your life without a fight? Is it guilt? Guilt I can understand. I’m well acquainted with guilt. Is that what it is? Or is it pity?”

“Pity? For what?”

“For the Widow next door that you have to entertain, the sad girl you invite to your get togethers. The crazy plant lady who can’t hold a screwdriver.” Your hands drift to your stomach.

Santi huffs with incredulity and shakes his head. “It’s not pity. I want to help because… that’s just who I am. I don’t know Vin, I see you, you’re there, you need help, I help. It’s not that complicated.”

“Not that complicated? You’d call this ‘not that complicated’?” Hot tears betray you, you hardly even try to stop them. Not here, in the open blanket of night, Santiago tilting his head in concern towards you.

“Don’t cry. Please Vin. You’ve been crying to much lately, what’s wrong?”

“I miss him. I miss Jay every fucking day. I wake up and his photo is right fucking there. I think about putting it away… I did put it away for a while, but I even missed THAT… so I put it back. On the nightstand.”

“What would you say to him?”

“Huh?”

“If Jay was here…. Not alive, but a spirit or ghost or something… what would you say to him? If he materialized right now?”

You wipe your eyes. “I’d ask if he was happy. If he was safe… I’d probably ask him if heaven is real. If he’s in heaven. If he met Elvis…” You laugh.

“And what else?”

“And then I’d say… I… I needed you Jay. I needed you. I’d say that sometimes I’m still so angry that you’re not here that it makes me scream. I’m angry that we never went to that stupid ‘Party Time Taco’ restaurant we kept getting flyers for, just to see how bad it was. I’m angry that you didn’t have a fucking last will and testament, so it was on me to guess at everything you would have wanted. I’m angry that you left me alone. And I think sometimes I get so angry, because if I felt sad instead, I’d fall apart.”

You don’t know at what point in your sobbing rant that Santiago’s arm came over your shoulders, but you’re grateful for his steadying embrace as your tears slow down to faint hiccups.

“You wanna know what I’d think he’d say?”

“What?”

“That he’s proud of you. He’s proud of how strong you are. He’s proud of you for getting out of bed every morning. He knows how hard it must be. And that he couldn’t imagine anyone being a better mother… and how badass he thinks it is that you’re doing this on your own.”

“Thanks, Santi.”

“He also says you shouldn’t be watering the backyard for fifteen minutes in the evening. Do five in the morning and 10 at night”

“Oh he said all that did he?”

“Yep. don’t shoot the messenger.”

“What was the thing you had to tell me?”

“Hmm?”

“The thing. When you were on the porch you said you had something…”

“Yeah. I… I’m taking a job in South America.”

“Where at?”

“Can’t say.”

“You don’t know?”

“No. I know.”

“Ohhh… one of those.”

“Yep.”

“How long will you be gone?”

“Don’t know.”

“You don’t know at all?”

“Not really.”

“Not even a guess?”

“Vin. C’mon you know I can’t tell you.”

“A week? A month?… longer? Blink twice if it’s longer than a month.”

“I don’t know.”

Your hand drifts to your stomach.

Santi breathes out, “Are you upset?”

“No! Why would I be upset?” Your voice squeaks defensively.

“Because I won’t be around while you’re…”

“I said I’m fine! I’m doing this alone and I meant that!”

“Yeah I know. I’m just worried.”

“About?”

“Oh I don’t know Vin, If something happens to you and you can’t get in contact with me.”

“If I were you I’d be much more concerned with doing some sort of clandestine mission in a foreign country.”

Santi is silent.

“Will you call?” You ask softly.

“If I can.” He replies at the same quiet level.

“Send a postcard?”

Santi barks out a laugh, “Yeah I’ll send you a postcard. Greetings from redacted! With all incriminating details blacked out in sharpie.”

“You going alone?”

“No. The guys are going with me.”

“All of them?”

“The whole gang.”

“Must be a big job.”

“You could say that.”

“When do you leave?”

Santi takes a deep breath. “Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?! As in, like, today-tomorrow?”

“Yeah. I’m all packed. Tonight was a last hurrah stateside.”

“How long have you known about this job??”

“A while.”

"And when the fuck pray tell were you planning on telling me?"

“Fuck I don’t know Vin, I didn’t want to stress you out. I kept trying to find the right moment to tell you but, I don’t know, I didn’t want you to worry and you’ve started crying again and..”

“Hormones!”

“Right, hormones. I didn’t want to stress you out.”

“Well I’m considerably less stressed now, learning that you were so worried about this trip yourself that you decided it was better to keep me in the dark and wait till the last possible second to clue me in rather than just tell me. Did you tell the guys to keep it a secret from me too? A last hurrah party and not one of them mentioned the international travel plans the whole night?”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. It is. You don’t have to tell me everything, right? That’s… you’re not… it’s fine.” You pat his back “Sorry for freaking out. If you say you’re going to be fine then I should trust you, right? You know what you’re doing.”

Santi nods and is tight-lipped when he mutters, “Right.”

“You need me to water your plants or anything while you’re gone? Get your mail?”

“Already taken care of.”

You nod and click your tongue, “Well, it’s getting late.” You dump the contents of your herbal tea onto the lawn and hand Santi the mug. “Will I see you before you leave?”

“We leave in, Santi checks his watch. 5 and a half hours.” He says with tight apologetic eyes.

“Five and a half hours,” you mutter under your breath. “You need a ride to the airport?” You ask more loudly, already deciding that if he says ‘yeah that’d be great’ you’ll laugh in his stupid chiseled face.

“We have a shuttle coming… but thanks.” He looks so tired. But so what if he is, it’s his own fault if he isn’t well rested for his trip.

“Well then, you better get your beauty rest. Those boys are going to have raging headaches tomorrow.”

You get up and rock back and forth on your feet facing Santi. His knees are bent, one hand clasping his wrist, eyebrows downturned with concern.

“I’ll see you in… well… when you get back.”

“Vin—“

“Goodnight, Pope.”

He doesn’t rise to chase you. Doesn’t grab your wrist and force you to hug him goodbye. Doesn’t wipe away your tears with his thumbs. He remains sitting on the driveway when you get inside your home. And when you lay down in your bed, tears soaking your pillow, he’s still out there, staring at the fucking moon.

You have a nightmare. Not the usual horror of Jay collapsing in the middle of highway 1, the recurring playback panic of the last two years. No, in this nightmare you’re sitting on your porch in a rocking chair, holding a potted plant, one so big it crushes your thighs. Santi’s house, usually pristine and well kept, is condemned, paint chipped, windows smashed, lawn overgrown. You rock faster and faster out of control until the ceramic pot falls off your lap and crashes to the floor.

You wake with a gasp and leap out of bed. You nearly trip over the sheet still caught on your foot when you rush over to the window. It’s still dark outside. Santi isn’t out there any longer, neither is the blanket or your mug. You look at the clock. 4:30. You sigh in relief. They haven’t left yet.

You throw on a robe over your nightgown and go downstairs. You turn on the kettle before getting the ingredients out to make biscuits. Those idiots really shouldn’t have drank so much last night. You figure the least you can do is make them some breakfast sandwiches they can take with them. It’s not like you’ll be able to get back to sleep.

You’re wrapping up the last of the sandwiches (seven in total, one for Santi, Fish, and Redfly. Two for each of the voracious Miller brothers) when you see a blue shuttle van pull up in Santiago’s driveway. The sun has barely risen and the muffler steams as the driver beeps twice. You put the sandwiches in a paper bag and forget your slippers in a hurry, meeting the boys with their pack laden arms as they unload their bags into the van.

“Morning, Vin!” Fish greets you, causing Santiago to nearly snap his neck when he turns around in surprise. You hand the bag of breakfast goods to Fish.

“Mmm what’s this?” Frank pokes his nose into the bag and breathes deeply.

“Just a little something to soak up any remaining tequila.”

“Ugh, please don’t say tequila” Benny groans, shuffling off his pack into the trunk before he wraps you up in a hug. “Take care, Vin.”

“I will.”

In turn, each of the boys hugs you and thanks you. You tell them all to “be safe” and that the “welcome home party will be at casa de Vinita. With plenty of tequila.” Benny groans again. Santi watches you, arms folded leaning against the passenger door of the running shuttle. The boys load in and buckle up. Benny is already ripping into the parchment paper of his breakfast and will snatches the bag with a gravelly, “you’re an animal, Ben.”

You lock eyes with Santi, a strange anticipation tingling in your fingers. You both jump slightly when the shuttle driver beeps his horn. Santi glares at the driver who points at his watch.

“Pinche… give me a minute, Kay?”

You take two barefooted steps towards Santi and wrap your arms around his middle, resting your head on his chest. He holds you close, like he’s giving you a concentrated dose of hugs, giving you a full month’s worth of embraces in one sitting.

“I had a nightmare about you last night.” You whisper so only he can hear. He inhales deeply and rubs his hands carefully up and down your back. You can feel the gripping dance of his fingers through the material of the robe and it makes you shiver. You grip him closer. “Be safe. Please.” You whisper, hoping you’re the only one who registers how desperate your plea really sounds.

Santiago’s hands skim up to the sides of your face and he gently pulls your head away from his chest. You choke back the makings of a whine. You don’t want the hug to be over, not yet, you’re going to miss him. He rubs his warm thumbs against your cheeks and there’s no warning at all, no hesitation, no eyes flicking to your lips, no sweep of tongue to wet his own, when he kisses you on the mouth.

It’s slow. Achingly slow. Your gasp of surprise is muffled by the insistent pressure of his mouth. You can’t be sure, but, if he he had been hugging you in prepayment of all the embraces you’d miss in the coming weeks, then this kiss is surely back payment, with interest, for all the times he’s stopped himself from kissing you in the past. Recompense, remuneration; a distilled unspoken passion. There’s nothing ‘first-kiss' about it, not clumsy, not awkward, not unsure. It feels practiced, steady, anticipated. The tingling in your fingers makes total sense and you use those same fingers to glide through his silvery thick curls when you tilt your head and open your mouth to him.

He twists your form in his broad arms, angling your faces away from the van, causing one of your bare feet to leave the ground and lift slightly like a wilting ballerina in swan lake or something out of an old movie.

There’s a romantic reverence in the way his tongue moves with yours, his nose pressed against your cheek, hot steady breath blowing comfortingly against your face.

You both jolt again and break apart your lip lock when the shuttle driver lays on the horn.

Santi doesn’t so much as furrow his brow at the driver when he steadies you back on two legs.

Frankie brushes the driver’s shoulder, and with a mouthful of biscuit says, “Pero qué coño! give him a minute, wéon.”

You blink rapidly and stare at your feet. What the fuck?

“I’ll be back soon.” Santi promises, squeezing your hand assuredly before climbing in the passenger seat and closing the door.

Frankie gives you a wide eyed smile before sliding the back door closed and you can hear the muffled admonitions of the driver as he hastily pulls out of the driveway and speeds off down the residential street.

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@miraclesabound : @reallystressedhoneybee : @blackberries45 : @plz-and-spank-you : @bit-dodgy-innit : @rnlaing : @stevenngrant : @sharin4readers : @hebelongstothestars : @stardustbells : @alwritey-aphrodite : @libraryreservations : @eroticandawkward : @tripleheartx : @johnny-simpfinger : @fangirlfreakingoutandscreaming : @jake-g-lockley : @lunawants : @andromeda-dear : @writefightandflightclub : @oscarsbabe : @marshmallow–3 : @luminescentlily : @laters-gators: @astroboots : @lovely-cryptid : @nerdygirl0414 : @hot-mess-express1 : @spacecowboyhotch : @spector-marc : @runa-falls : @arson-tm : @slymeriah : @geeficrecs: @bit-dodgy-innit : @mintpurplemnm : @snowinseptember24: @missanthr0pist : @romanarose : @dalia-corven : @gratefulstranger : @onlyferorder66 : @kandierteveilchen : @xbellaxcarolinax : @missmarmaladeth : @welcometostayingawake : @wand-erer5 : @ohnosy : @kingtwhiddleston : @eonnyx : @d-sav : @daughterofthequeen

#Santiago Garcia #Santiago Garcia x you #Santiago Garcia x reader #Triple Frontier fan fiction #Oscar Isaac #reader insert

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fanfic-enthusiast · 1 year

Note

Could I please request headcanons of one of the other bishops catching Leshy in an act of intimacy with a follower? I can imagine there might be a bit of internal conflict, depending on that bishop's values, between different things they may think are right. I.e. "They're a bishop and his follower, so do I stop this? They both clearly want to do this, so do I give them privacy and pretend I never walked in on them?"

OOOoooo juicy!! This probably happened before they all got injured.

Warning NSFW Themes

Heket

She made the unfortunate mistake of not sending a letter ahead of her before visiting her little brother. Traveling instantly through the lands has its pros and cons.

Appearing through the floor inside his temple, she didn’t see him in the main room and figured he was in his chambers. Thankfully she heard what was going on inside before she opened the door.

I think she left just as quickly as she came, not uttering so much as a word as she absconded back to Anura.

Needless to say she is working very hard to burn that memory out of her head with mushrooms. And for the most part is successful.

As for the fact that it was a follower he was with, her general philosophy is, "They're here to serve us." She will probably caution Leshy in privet to, "not let that follower think themselves superior to you."

Other then that she would prefer never to talk or think on that unfortunate incident ever again.

Kallamar

He came to Darkwood to ask Leshy if he had messed with his sword collection. Things had been moved from where they were supposed to be in his weapons room.

Marching through the temple too caught up in his own thoughts to realize why exactly the temple was so empty and why the door to Leshy’s personal chambers were closed.

“I thought I told you to stay away from my collections! They're valuable and fragile and I-” He cuts himself off after making eye contact with Leshy and his follower. Quickly ducking out of the room and slamming the door behind him with a “OHMYGOODNESSGRACIOUS-” along with various retching sounds. Needless to say he will be knocking on Leshy’s door every time from now onwards.

Leshy finds him in the main room of his temple looking a little green in the gills and makes his older brother promise not to tell Shamura.

“Fine. Just stay away from my collections.”

Kallamar’s opinion on Leshy’s relationship is pretty much the same as Heket’s so long as it doesn't effect their status as bishops he doesn’t care who Leshy sleeps with.

Shamura

They needed Leshy’s insight on some odd animal behaviors in Silk Cradle, yes they could just consult the endless number of scrolls and tomes on their shelves but sometimes one on one talks were the easiest solution. Their little brother was always so in tune with the chaos of nature after all.

They hummed as they appeared through the floor of the main temple room only to find it empty. Odd but not a problem. The spider made their way to Leshy’s personal chambers but stopped once they heard what was going on through the door.

Once the momentary shock had passed they knocked on the door and the sound inside stopped. Moments later after some shuffling Leshy’s face poked out from around the opened door.

“Hello brother, I require your insight on a matter in my domain when you get a moment. I know you're busy in there-”

“Shamura I-” “I don’t need an explanation Leshy, but expect a review on safe sexual practices. And no you're not getting out of it.”

“Please no not again-”

“Oh and bring your partner you have in there as well. Only right for them to be fully educated on such matters as well.”

Leshy and his partner for the evening are essentially forced to listen to and extensive birds and bees lecture.

Doesn’t matter to Shamura if they're a follower or not, just that they take good care of Leshy and make him happy. Anything less and they don’t deem them fit to be in such a position.

Narinder

Finally a chance to prank Leshy back for all the times the worm has messed with him!

Narinder slides through the doors of Leshy’s temple with supplies in hand. Mostly bowls of only the most rancid “food” Narinder could get his hands on. With the plan to throw this at the worm when his back was turned.

Leshy was missing from the main room of the temple, which meant he was elsewhere inside. Perfect!

He crept slowly up to the door of his brother’s personal quarters and just barely heard Leshy talking inside, low enough where he couldn’t make out what was being said. He muffled his giggles as best he could to avoid detection.

Narinder threw open the door and quickly threw the overflowing bowl towards his brother before he could fully witness the scene in front of him.

He realized exactly what Leshy had been doing when his brother quickly shoved him out of the room, nude and absolutely livid.

Didn’t stop Narinder from cackling in the hallway for a solid half an hour as Leshy calmed down his startled follower partner.

After Leshy cleaned himself and his partner up, he hunted Narinder down to scream at him. Which only made the cat laugh harder.

“Can’t handle a little payback little brother?”

No remorse for his actions, especially for the follower. They're just tools for him and his siblings after all.

He isn’t laughing like that when Leshy and his partner shave him in retaliation but that’s a story for another time.

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cozzzynook · 6 months

Note

do you have anymore aus for bee?

(I may be a bit desperate/j)

I love to headcanon Bee as mute like so many of his adaptations.

Whether it be from war or he was born with a disabled vox I like either or.

Bee uses Cybertronian sign language or his em field to communicate. He’s able to make noises yes but nothing beyond a beep or buzz as far as definitive sounding words.

he used to wish he could talk as a sparkling and youngling but as he’s grown into a full mech he’s okay with himself and not being able to.

If the situation really calls for it he will use his radio as a warning to his comrades. But then he meets Raf, Jack & Miko & uses his radio for them.

Raf learns cybertronian sign for Bee and they communicate through that and Raf talking. Its something that makes Bee really happy seeing Raf use sign to communicate with him. It means a lot to him since Optimus is the only other mech to use sign when communicating with him.

He knows he can hear but its nice not being the only one using sign and his adopted sire and now human friend Raf using his main form of language truly has his door wings fluttering in happiness.

If Bee gains the attention of a certain mech on the decepticons side- could be Shockwave, could be Soundwave, could be both mechs honestly- they already know some Cybertronian sign and corner him when he’s alone immediately grabbing his attention when they begin speaking with sign.

Of course he thought it was a trap and got away using a ground bridge but after a couple more attempts Bee was worn down enough to demand they save trying to offline him on the battlefield and not when he’s enjoying his time alone for a quiet drive.

When they admit to wanting to converse with him and learn more about him outside the war he still thinks its a trap but the two slither into his spark after giving some private information about themselves.

Like how Shockwave is affected by shadowplay but he can still feel and Soundwave lets a glimpse of his purple eyes flash through his visor before setting the tint back in full swing. Followed by a smiley face and question mark beneath it.

Bumblebee was a little less on edge and more receptive to meeting them in secret during each Earth week.

Sometimes it’s Shockwave that comes first to meet him followed by Soundwave but more often than not it’s usually the two coming together. On rare occasions Bee can’t show up its because his joint stiffen due to the cold weather and his frame locks up in pain.

He usually has his daily joint soothers from Ratchet but at there are times its not enough and nothing can be done but lay and rest. The humans call it ‘arthritis,’ Bee doesn’t mind using that term it made him feel less isolated since he was the only one in his group born with what his people called a defective frame.

The first time it happened he sent a private comm a bit late saying he couldn’t make it and apologized promising to make it up.

The two bots were not happy with missing out on seeing him especially without a specific reason not confirming if his well-being was satisfactory or not. Bumblebee felt guilty not telling them but he didn’t want them knowing he wasn’t a regular functioning mech. Truthfully he wished his team didn’t know either. He didn’t like the looks they’d give him if he looked uncomfortable or showed any signs of pain.

Ratchet didn’t see him any different since he took his oath to treat any bot born completely functional or dysfunctional to spark with unbiased care. Bee spent a lot of time quietly resting in his berth or in the medical unit slab with a curtain drawn to give him and Ratchet privacy.

Bee wasn’t in the best condition to meet with them the next time either but he didn’t want to pull the same stunt twice so he met with them. It took all but a nano-klik for them to see something was wrong. He tried brushing it off but the two were more stubborn and persistent than him and so he signed that he was not only mute but dysfunctional.

He used the human term arthritis knowing they would have to search the human term in their systems but he wanted just a klik more of their time before they turned pede and left him behind like many others had done before coming to Earth.

What he got in turn was the two bots asking if he was in pain still. Shockwave didn’t wait for an answer as he turned and went through the ground bridge Soundwave opened and returned with a vial of what he knew to be pain blockers. Soundwave in the mean time gently forced him to sit as Shockwave knelt beside them and brought the vial to his intake.

“I’m fine, I have daily meds I take that soothes most of the pain. Any more and I’ll recharge for a few mega cycles.”

The two still seemed like they wanted him to take the vial so he switched topics, “you aren’t freaked out by me being dysfunctional?”

“There is no shame in being formed differently. It is simply a fact that cannot be changed and should be cared for with the means of medicine and a helping servo. That is all there is to it,” Shockwave supplied while Soundwave nodded pointing to himself and Shockwave.

Bumblebee knew what he meant.

Soundwave and Shockwave were different even among the decepticons, he had no reason to believe they would treat him any different. If they could accept him being mute they would surely accept he was born dealing with his joints and frame having pains without a wound in sight.

“Thank you,” he wasn’t big on being touched much like Shockwave but he couldn’t help it. He hugged the scientist briefly, with enough time to reject just in case, before hugging Soundwave releasing him a nano-klik later.

“Thank you.”

🇸🇩🇵🇸🇨🇩

#tfp bumblebee #bumblebee headcanons #transformers bumblebee #tfp headcanons #tfp #tfp soundwave #tfp shockwave #shockbee #soundbee #shockwave transformers #soundwave transformers #soundwave #shockwave #wavewave #transformer prime #transformers #macadams #maccadam

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romantichomicide95 · 10 months

Note

Congrats on 900 bee ✨

For your event, i’d like to request prompt #4 for Eren with a side of angst (if possible, otherwise go for whichever you feel like). Thank you 💕

Kiss Prompt #4: Those kisses that leave them out of breathe mind reeling endlessly

Eren Yeager

"Eren!" is all he heard as his eyes opened. He looked around the room and saw all of his friends. His heart raced, anticipation and relief flooding through him. In that moment, his gaze swept across the faces until it found its destination…you. Sitting next to his bed, like he knew you would be.

Locked in a shared gaze, time seems to slow down. Beneath your facade of a smile he could see the echo of hurt and concern etched onto your face. There was a silent understanding that transcended words as you both gaze into each others eyes.

His eyes leave yours for a second as he looks at the people gathered around. He doesn’t need to say anything, they understand. One by one your friends leave the room, giving you privacy. But not without a reassuring glance or a gentle pat on his shoulder signifying their support.

As Armin, the final friend, bid his goodbye, he closed the door behind him leaving you both and enveloping the room in a comfortable silence. Erens gaze returned to yours, drawing you back in.

“Hey” he says, his gaze not faltering. “How long was I out for?”

“A few hours.” You whisper as your hand gently rests on his forehead, you know he doesn’t have a fever but the weight of the recent events and the attack from the female titan had taken its toll on him. Erens hand reaches up, his fingers intertwining with yours. “I’m fine” he declares as he softly kisses the back of your hand, his voice laced with determination.

“I was so worried.” You said as his thumb ran over your knuckles, a gesture of reassurance. “I thought…” your voice catches in your throat, the words almost too difficult to utter. Tears begin to pool in your eyes.

“I’m fine.” he repeats before you could continue. His free hand cups your cheek, wiping a tear that manages to escape. Cupping your hand over his you grew strength from his touch and the bond you both shared.

Caught in the intensity of the moment, it felt as if the room held its breath, witnessing the connection between Eren and you. And in that moment Erens lip met yours. “I’m okay I promise.” he whispers into the kiss.

The touch of Eren's lips against yours was electric, filling the air with an intense energy. It was a kiss that held the weight of your journey together, the battles fought, and the love that you found amidst the chaos. Time stood still as your lips danced together in passion, intensity growing by the second.

The world around you faded into insignificance as you lost yourselves in eachother. In that moment, it was just Eren and you. You and Eren. Your hands find themselves laced in Erens hair as you tug at the soft strands. He lets out a gentle moan against your lips as he holds you close.

Breaking the kiss, Eren's eyes locked with yours, his voice breathlessly whispering your name. “I love you.” He says and you feel the warmth of his forehead pressed against yours. Your heavy breathes mingled in the air together as your hearts beat in unison.

In your shared love you bring your hands up to his face, fingertips lightly tracing his features. In that moment everything melted away, and all you could see was Eren as you whisper back “I love you too.”

#eren yeager x reader #eren x reader fluff #eren x reader #eren yaeger #eren yeager #eren yeager x reader fluff #eren x yaeger fluff #eren aot #aot fluff #attack on titan #attack on titan eren #eren attack on titan #eren x y/n #snk eren #shinjeki no kyojin

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critter-in-skyrim · 5 months

Text

Drunken Confessions

“You’re a good guy, you know that?”

Erandur raised an eyebrow slightly, a fond smile making its way to his lips as he turned to look at his companion. The Dragonborn was known to enjoy a pint of mead or two every time the two of them found themselves in an inn. However, it was only at the Bee and Barb that the Dragonborn ever got plastered - like they were at the moment. Erandur simply nodded. “Yes, yes, of course.”

“No Erandur, I mean it!” they emphasized, leaning closer to Erandur. “You…you get all up in your own head, thinking you’re some bad guy, just ‘cause you got a past. But like…I got a past too. Nearly everyone I’ve met in Skyrim has got some sorta past. You can still be a good person, even if you’ve had a really messed up life.”

“Well, that’s nice of you to say,” Erandur said placatingly. He noticed a few of their fellow patrons paying attention to this conversation - he hoped that the Dragonborn didn’t continue to steer the conversation down this rather treacherous pathway.

“I really don’t think you understand how fucked up your life was before,” the Dragonborn said suddenly.

Keerava made a slight hissing sound at the Dragonborn’s language. Erandur gave an awkward chuckle, wrapping an arm around the Dragonborn’s.

“I think it’s time we head to bed, yes?”

“But I’m not tired,” they protested, though they allowed Erandur to pull them to their feet. “And we’re not done with this conversation yet.”

“Well, let’s at least continue it in privacy, please,” Erandur pleaded with the Dragonborn quietly.

They sighed, throwing their head back dramatically. “Fine.”

The Dragonborn was relatively steady on their feet as they made their way to their room upstairs, at least until they reached the top step. They tripped, slamming down on their hands and knees.

Erandur’s eyes widened. “Dragonborn? Are you alright?” he asked, when the Dragonborn didn’t move from their position. He placed a hand on their shoulder, only to feel it shaking. Erandur’s concern worsened, but only for a moment, as the Dragonborn’s laughter soon became audible.

“I’m such a goof!” they lamented through their laughter, allowing Erandur to help them to their feet. “A complete goof!”

“You’ve just had a little too much to drink,” Erandur patted their shoulder, as the two headed into their shared room. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Positive,” they said, before pausing. “See, this is what I’m talking about. You always doubt that you’re a good person, yet here you are, all concerned over me simply tripping over my own feet.”

Erandur closed the door behind the two of them. “My being kind to you does not exactly cancel out my servitude to Vaermina,” he said, lowering his voice.

The Dragonborn hummed, flopping on their bed. “And what, all the other good you’ve done also means nothing? Being a Priest of Mara? Helping Sylgia in Shor’s Stone? Saving the people of Dawnstar?” They narrowed their eyes, leaning forward. “Besides, it’s not even like you really wanted to be a servant to Vaermina, if I remember your stories correctly,” the Dragonborn pointed out. “Weren’t you quite literally a child when you were practically forced to join an abusive religious cult out of a means of survival?”

“Don’t try to assuage me of guilt,” Erandur said firmly. “I could have left at any time, but I didn’t. I stayed there through my childhood, through my teenage years, through my adulthood. It was only once things began to go truly bad that I made my escape.”

“If anything, that just shows how strong of a person you are,” the Dragonborn said. “You went through a lifetime of indoctrination, and were still able to break free. Do you realize how hard that is for some people to do? Yet you made the choice to turn away from Vaermina, to turn towards Mara. You did that.”

Erandur hesitated. “Dragonborn…”

The Dragonborn waved away Erandur’s attempted protest. “I’m as stubborn as an ox, Erandur. We could talk in circles about this all evening, but there’s nothing you could say that could make me see you as less than the great man you are.” They crossed their arms. Erandur gave them an exasperated look.

“I’m not trying to fight you on this,” Erandur said patiently. “I just…simply have a different perspective on my own life than you have.”

“Yeah, and that perspective sucks,” the Dragonborn frowned. “You think of yourself as some irredeemable monster.”

“That’s a little extreme…”

“How would you describe yourself, then, hm?” The Dragonborn raised their eyebrows.

Erandur sighed heavily, looking around the small room they shared. “Oh, I don’t know…” He looked at the Dragonborn, then looked away. “I suppose ‘irredeemable monster’ isn’t too far off.”

The Dragonborn was quiet for a moment. When Erandur chanced a glance at them, they looked deeply upset. “Erandur…”

Erandur swallowed hard, looking away from them again. Oh, how he hated himself for making his dear friend make such an expression. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you. I was just…being honest…” He was once again reminded why he always resorted to lying.

“I…appreciate your honesty, I do…” the Dragonborn said, and their voice sounded genuine. “I just…hate that you think such horrible things about yourself.”

The Dragonborn must have gotten up off their bed at some point, for they suddenly grabbed Erandur’s hand, squeezing it gently. Erandur hesitated, looking down at their clasped hands, before looking up at the Dragonborn. Their other hand cupped his cheek, before they leaned forward, kissing him.

Erandur froze, his heart racing faster than it ever had. Then, slowly, he allowed his eyes to flutter shut, as he kissed the Dragonborn back.

The kiss was short, sweet, the Dragonborn pulling back after a couple of moments. They continued to hold onto Erandur, though, gazing down at him with a deep tenderness in their eyes. “You mean the world to me, Erandur.”

“Oh?” was all Erandur could manage to respond.

“I…just thought you should know that…” The Dragonborn briefly butted their forehead up against Erandur’s, before pulling back completely. They once again went over to flop on their bed. “I think I’m gonna try and get some rest…”

“That’s…probably a good idea,” Erandur said softly. He went over to his own bed, settling into it, though he knew he would likely not be able to sleep for hours.

“Goodnight, Erandur,” the Dragonborn called out.

Erandur smiled softly, touching his lips. They still felt warm from the Dragonborn’s lips. “Goodnight, Dragonborn…”

#skyrim #the elder scrolls #skyrim fanfiction #tesblr #erandur #dragonborn #nonbinary character #nonbinary dragonborn

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petitelepus · 11 months

Note

tfa bumblebee and fem reader making up a dumb excuse or sneaking off the factory/base to go mes around and do some naughty things with each other

QUICK REMINDER TO EVERYONE, BUMBLEBEE IS A YOUNG ADULT, NOT A TEENAGER, PRE-TEEN, OR UNDERAGE.

You and Bumblebee were just about had enough of the old factory that worked as your base on Earth. Any time the two of you would try something bigger than kissing, something would come up and interrupt you two!

Last week you were kissing on your berth when Bulkhead marched in to ask your two's opinion on his painting so you stopped at there.

A couple of days ago, you were getting it on in the dark alley, but you had gotten a message from Optimus that a criminal called Angry Archer was moving towards your location and it was up to you two to catch the human.

And just yesterday, you were sure that you would both go all the way... Only Sari burst into the room and asked you guys to join her to play a new video game she had gotten. Needless to say that the mood was totally ruined.

But today was the day, mark your word! You were young and in love with the other minibot and you wanted to feel good with him... And that CLEARLY couldn't happen at the base where apparently no one honored one's privacy!

"Okay, remember the plan?" You whispered at Bumblebee and the mech nodded, "Yeah, I got it!"

"Good, let's go!"

The Autobots and Sari were resting at the common area when you and Bumblebee stomped into the room, frowns at your faces.

"Primus, you are so stupid, I can't even!" You said as you threw your arms in the air.

The rest of the team Prime turned to look at you and Bee and saw that you were fighting with each other.

"Me!?" Bumblebee gawked at you, "You're stupid here, uh, dummy!"

"Well, it takes one to know another!" You shot back at him and the yellow minibot groaned, "That's it, I'm leaving!"

"Not if I leave first!" You shouted and the two of you transformed on the spot and raced out of the factory. The Bots and Sari looked at each other and the little girl frowned.

"Why were they fighting and should someone go after them?" Sari asked as she looked around, but the Autobots just shook their helms.

"Youngsters these days..." Ratchet grumbled as he took a closer look at Bulkhead's arm. Sari was confused but Prowl patted her on the shoulder.

"Don't worry Sari. I'm sure they will make up in no time."

Sari frowned, but if Prowl said so then it must have been true.

Meanwhile, the two of you practically raced to the small warehouse by the edge of the city.

Once there and finally alone, the two of you didn't need to hide yourselves or the noises you made. In fact, you were so eager that you didn't make it inside the warehouse, no, the two of you lay on the soft grassy ground as you started.

You were kissing passionately, your glossas dancing with each other in your mouth and his, honestly, the two of you weren't that picky.

It was almost embarrassing by how quickly your frames heated up but you were both young, in love, and needy as Pit! The two of you wanted to make each other feel good without any more interruptions.

Bumblebee was lying on his back as you climbed on top of him and both of you let your hands wander over each other's frames.

Your servos found his horn and you playfully twisted the horn and Bumblebee moaned out loud as his frame shook.

"Oh?" How interesting! "Do you like it when I play with your horns?"

"I- I did moan, didn't I?" He asked back you smiled as your hands wandered further down and between his legs.

"Yikes!" Bumblebee almost jumped up as his interface panels shifted aside and his spike emerged from its hiding spot.

"Oh, you're so needy!" You giggled and Bumblebee blushed in embarrassment.

"So are you, don't lie!" He shouted as his hand pressed against your panels and you yelped out loud as your panels followed his example and slid aside.

Both of you were panting as you had your spikes out and honestly? You both turned a little bashful.

You never got this far so neither of you had thought how you would do this... But you had an idea.

"Bee, grab my spike...!" You panted and your lover nodded as he reached for your spike and you grabbed his.

Without any further instructions, the two of you pressed your spikes against each other and started to pump them eagerly.

"Bee..." You whimpered as you felt prefluids leaking from your spike and Bumblebee whined back, "F- Frag, it feels good...!"

"I think I'm-!" You choked on air, momentarily losing your focus as you tried your hardest not to overload yet.

"I- I can't-!" Bumblebee grunted back and you made a quick decision for both of you.

"Let go!" You ordered and Bee froze, "What?"

"Overload!" You corrected yourself as you twisted the base of his spike and Bumblebee's hips rose from the ground as his spike shot transfluids all over your stomach and some landed on him also.

"Gnh...!" The yellow Bot's hand picked up speed around your spike and you cried out, hips bucking as you reached your own overload, your fluids landing mostly on Bumblebee below you.

The two of you were panting and ventilating hard. You rolled over and laid next to Bee so the two of you were staring at the beautiful blue sky.

"That- I mean, that felt nice." You said and Bee nodded, "Yeah, no one else has ever touched my spike before."

"I'm happy I was your first." You said as you settled on your side and looked at Bee, "You were my first also."

"He, it felt pretty good." He chuckled and you laughed also, "You totally froze at the end!"

"I thought you wanted me to let go of your spike!" He laughed in poor defense and you grinned as you leaned forward and kissed his cheek.

"If you had left me hanging I would have eaten you alive, starting your spike!"

"Not my spike!" Bee laughed and you laughed together. When you finally stopped laughing and giggling, your lover looked at you a little uncertainly.

"So, after all this waiting..." Bee swallowed, "Was it worth it?"

"You were totally worth the wait," You said and kissed him on the lips and he returned your kiss.

You hadn't maybe gone all the way, but so far this was just what the two of you needed.

BONUS

After cleaning each other, Bee and you returned to the base with big smiles on your faces. The two of you were holding hands together, which confused Sari who saw you enter.

"Oh, are you guys friends again?" She asked and you and Bee blinked, "What?"

"You know? It sounded like you had a big argument when you left?"

"Oh." The two of you said before remembering that you were supposed to be angry at each other.

"I mean, OH! Yes, we came to an agreement." You smiled as you looked at your lover and he returned the look. "Yeah, I can't even remember what we fought about."

"Well, Prowl was right."

That caught your and Bumblebee's attention. "Wait, what?"

"Yeah, he said that the two of you would make up quickly. He had a good hunch."

You and Bee blushed, sensing that others, except Sari, might have known what was really going on.

Maybe the two of you weren't as sneaky as you thought you were, but who cared, it worked!

#transformers #reader #reader insert #transformers animated #tfa #prowl #bulkhead #optimus #optimus prime #bumblebee #ratchet #writing #my writing #ENJOY!#Anon #NAUGHTY

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boxwinebaddie · 7 months

Note

also you said rm kenny is tatted everywhere and idk why i thought of this but my new headcanon is that they have a squirrel on their thigh that’s reaching for their “nuts” LMAOOOO

icooooooonic! head-ken-non accepted <3

i swear theyve got really detailed sick skeleKen ones, like a gnarly neck tattoo, scary really intricate line work and artistry...and then like 'kiss here' on their neck, like hands around their ass, bees on their knees for 'bees knees' probably 'bite me' inside their lip slahdlkd

its like The Most Beautifully Executed Hauntingly Evocative Tattoo of All Time next to like....a hello kitty mech violently blowing up hitler

a c.d. right of passage is that if they like you enough, kenny lets you tattoo something on them and as a joke this girl that jimmy was seeing got reeeeeally wasted and tattooed her phone number on kenny bc she didnt know what to do...and they kept it hidden for that girls privacy

BUT THEN SHE CHEATED ON JIMMY AND THEY BLASTED IT ALL OVER THE MEGATRON AT ONE OF THEIR BIGGEST CONCERTS....she still gets calls to this day <3 choke <33333

( we love u jimmy!!!!! we got u king ilysm baby! chin up! )

other c.d. rites of passage include:

.....you have to have a Raeger Bomb™

its stan-da-tory

like its just a normal jaeger bomb except instead of red bull its a yerba mate because raven is a crunchy plant boy king

also cd sets up an obstacle course and u have to get through it as fast as you can using jimmys crutches

and if you can do it faster than jimmy or dont quit....you get a favor

but no one has beat jimmy ;)

smh if that man could use his legs he would fight god and win

live laugh crimson dawn <3

-uncle nina, mother of 3 ( 4 if u count marj )

#i love the boys and their little cd traditions #like they are so cute to me #the cd mansion parties are just like #kenny letting u tat them #raven pouring everyone bottomless raeger bombs #and jimmy shouting 'w-w-weeeeak!' when people wipe out doing the c.d. special olympics obstacle course #only iconic behavior in the cd house #marj is about to sindoctrinated so hard into the bro haus....praying for her i bet its disgusting in there

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liminal-storage · 8 months

Text

#15: Inkstained Pages (Portentous)

Prompt: Portentous

Characters: Auriga Marlowe and Cygni Marlowe, Shayl

Content Warnings: General horror themes, vague mentions of body snatching.

-------------

There were few treasures Auriga found herself able to hide from Shayl’s prying eyes. It seemed to her that the creature grew more intrusive and paranoid by the day, and the last bastion of privacy she held lay in her small, smoky apartment. There, at least, she could pretend that she’d made any sort of breakthrough in finding a means to end his curse.

Hope. What a deceptive thing.

At any given moment, hope was perpetually plucked from her fingers and plucked from the backs of her family like a parrot unable to stop picking at himself. Hope was a garden, pretty and bright and bursting with colors; lush greens, vibrant blues, lipstick reds and sunshine yellow. Hope’s garden teemed with bees and butterflies and sweet smells, nourished by gentle rains.

The swath of hope given to the Marlowe’s grew into ruins before she was even born. Overgrown with noxious weeds, choked out and ashen. The only flowers to be found were whatever blooms the weeds unfurled, tiny dots of color in a sea of black.

Hope was the name of some beautiful maiden who’d been promised to the family long ago, only to be swept away to greener pastures. Hope did not live here anymore.

There wasn’t a trace of it to be found in her great grandmother’s journal, either, much as she had wished there to be.

She’d found Cygni Marlowe’s journal only a few weeks prior, just before leaving the house after her shift taking care of the family’s affairs. It fell from the wardrobe where she’d temporarily kept her clothes, a thick layer of dust billowing up off of it. Its pages seemed thin and worn, the binding barely keeping them in place. Some of them had come loose only to be stuffed back between the covers, folded and crumpled. Auriga bent down to pick it up, intent on returning the book to its rightful place. One of those loose pages slipped free and she caught it, curious eyes drawn to the half-familiar scrawl upon it. She'd seen this writing before. Signatures on old documents, notes in old recipe books.

Midwinter,

Something is horribly wrong with father.

He was deathly ill not three days ago. Hardly even capable of speaking or eating, let alone being up to tend to the house. But this morning I saw him up at the crack of dawn heading outside to do Fury-knows what without even a scrap of clothing upon his back. I did not dare ask after him, or even look out the window to see where he’d gone, but I know that he only returned after dark. What could he possibly be doing outside in the snow for hours? And after we were certain he was on his deathbed! Mother didn’t seem concerned at all...

She stopped reading there, but her attention was firmly captured. Auriga swept the book up, tucked it into her bag alongside her underclothes for easy smuggling. It was only later that she’d be able to look at it, daring to hope that it held some secret perspective about the family’s patron which none had been able to glean prior to that moment.

It was only later, after scouring its contents, that she realized Shayl must’ve put it there for her to find on purpose.

Cygni’s diary held no hope. No trace of a clue. Only her own slow, cold realization that something terrible was wearing her father’s skin, as part of a bargain her mother had struck with the creature. Reading her great grandmother’s hopelessness, her acceptance of her own eventual fate... It was enough to coax Auriga into throwing the book across the room, landing dangerously close to the still burning hearth. The only thing of use she’d managed to glean from the pages was the fact that her great-great grandmother had wanted this, had sold her descendants to this entity for the sake of vanity. She’d give it back, if she could.

She’d give it all back.

#ffxivwrite2023 #ffxivwrite #ritz writes #Auriga Marlowe #{just a little family curse}

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plainviewwelcomesyou · 2 years

Note

OH RIGHT CINNAFUN so a robot pop star sprung up out of nowhere this morning and everyone is practically hypnotized into being superfans of her and we were wondering if you knew anything about that

RALPH DEVLIN: It almost slipped my mind - have you ever heard of a lady by the name of Cinnafun Swirl?

TRUDY TULSE: Cinna-who-wha-?

CEREBELLE RAGSDILL: Yeah. We didn’t know her either. Not before today, that is! Pst, Ralph -? Am I going good detectiving right now?

RALPH DEVLIN: You’re doing stellar detectiving, Cerebelle. Keep that flow going. So, Ms. Tulse, here’s the gist…

You give Trudy the rundown on, well, everything. On how Cinnafun seems to have some form of brain-scrambling tech on her hands, on how she magically appeared overnight, and how she looks like a robot.

Actually, hold that last thought, you think to yourself.

RALPH DEVLIN: Since it seems that this Cinnafun character is, evidently, NOT human, and steel tubes and androids are very much your forté, perhaps the first step would be determining where she came from. The manufacturer, anything, really.

RALPH DEVLIN: Unless… she’s somehow your doing? In that case, heh. Case closed.

CEREBELLE RAGSDILL: YEAH, LADY! SPILL THE BEANS!!

TRUDY TULSE: THERE WILL BE NO SPILLING OF BEANS, MIND YOU, AND SUCH LOOSE ACCUSATIONS ARE NOT NEEDED AT A TIME LIKE THIS!! THIS IS AS MUCH NEWS TO ME AS IT IS NEWS TO YOU. I CAN ASSURE YOU, I HAVE NO INVOLVEMENT IN THIS. WHAT WOULD I CREATE A BRAINWASHING ROBOT FOR-

A robotic voice comes from behind your shoulder, startling the bees’ wits out of you and your assistant. You both let out an impulsive ‘EEK!’ like a bunch of bats.

GIGI TULSE: GREETINGS : RALPH DEVLIN AND : CEREBELLE RAGSDILL: AND MOST OF ALL: HELLO: MOTHERBOARD

TRUDY TULSE: GIGI!~ MY GIRL!

Trudy beams with joy, and ushers her daughter in for a hug.

TRUDY TULSE: Tell me, sweetie. How many people did you datamine today?~

Gigi rolls her LED eyes up in a coy manner.

GIGI TULSE: 5:022 DEVICES HAVE BEEN EXAMINED TODAY : MOTHERBOARD : ALL OF THEM : GIVING : GLOWING TESTIMONIALS OF TULSETECH ENTERPRISES : POSSIBLY FORCED INTO SAYING SO: I APOLOGIZE FOR MY : SLIGHT LACK IN USUAL UPKEEP : I KNOW ITS NOT MY BEST SUM : BUT YOU KNOW HOW IT IS : WITH THE TITLE [Shlubby’s Adventures In Cloudland] DEVELOPED BY [MAXFUN]

TRUDY TULSE: THAT I CERTAINLY DO, MY GIRL! THAT I CERTAINLY DO! AND DON’T SELL YOURSELF SHORT - YOU’RE DOING A WONDERFUL JOB AS ALWAYS! DARE I SAY, YOU ARE THE BEST BREACH OF PRIVACY I EVER COULD’VE ASKED FOR!

The two share a laugh. You can’t deny this is weirding you out.

Cerebelle leans to your ear.

CEREBELLE RAGSDILL: So…are we ruling out the possibility of her making mind control androids yet or…? ‘Cuz…that seemed pretty ‘mind-control-robot-y’ to me…

(What do you say?)

#plainview

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ladydorian05 · 3 months

Text

A Home for Broken Hearts ~ Chapter 7

Co written with and headder by @made-ofmemories

Okay so this freaking chapter is finally done as of today.

So, this fics was just about complete before we even began to post it. BUT at some point I came up with the bright idea to add a chapter in between the kids' arrival and the chapter that followed, which is this one and fucking hell was it a struggle to finish it. BUT IT'S FINALLY DONE!!

Also, this chapter is one of the main reasons if not THE reason for the rating of the fic. (Which is M by the way)

Anyways, hope you enjoy it!

Masterpost

AO3

Chapter 7: A Tragically single young man and his Wise sister

“Do you remember your safe word?” A deep, husky voice whispers in his ear. So close that he briefly feels the lips of its owner brushing against the shell of his ear before they start leaving a trail of kisses down his neck. His room is engulfed by shadows, the only source of light coming from the lit candles around them.

“Yes,” he hears himself answering, his breath quickens and his heart rate spikes as those lips continue their path from his neck to his chest.

“Good boy,” He knows that voice. It’s familiar and belongs to a man he thinks, but he just can’t quite put his finger on the identity of its owner. His thoughts are cut short when the mysterious stranger sucks one of Steve’s nipples into his mouth, pulling a moan from him. The sensation is short lived and the stranger pulls away with a pop of his lips, “now we can play.”

The familiar stranger resumes his work, lathering his abdomen with slow kisses and greedy licks, while his hands roam his body freely. He stops and peels off from his body right before he reaches the place he wants him to touch the most.

“No, come on, please.” He can’t help but beg.

“Please what?” Sexy voice demands, pushing his luscious locks of wavy dark hair away from his face to reveal Eddie smirking down at him. He lets his eyes wander over Eddie's glistening body in all his beautiful tattooed glory illuminated by the warm glow of the candles, the silver bars in his nipples reflecting the dancing flames.

“Please, Eds,”

He tries to move his hands to touch him, to guide him back where he needs him, but he’s met with resistance. He pulls his eyes away from Eddie for just a moment to glance up and figure out why he can’t move. He isn’t sure if the whine he lets out is from the frustration of not being able to run his hands across Eddie’s skin or from the sight of the leather cuffs around his wrists securing him to the headboard.

“Ah, ah, ah. We talked about this before,” Eddie leans over him until there’s but an inch between their lips, “didn’t we, Stevie?” he tilts his head to the side staring deep into Steve’s eyes with a smile that promises nothing but trouble. And oh, he so wants to find out how that’s going to play out for him.

“P-please, m-master.” Steve murmurs.

“Well done, Big boy.” Eddie smiles, pleased by his words, and closes the gap between them, locking their lips in a slow passionate kiss as he shifts his weight to one of his arms and lets his free hand slither down Steve’s body. He’s so close, just a bit more and-

Steve jolts awake, drenched in sweat. On his couch. Not in his bed and no Eddie in sight.

Shit, did he just… Did he really just have a wet dream about Eddie and his- his gallery donation!? He drags a hand through his sleep tousled hair. There’s a lot to unpack there, but most of all, how is he ever going to look Eddie in the eyes again after this?

His imminent mental breakdown is interrupted by the sound of the toilet being flushed down, the noise brings him back to the present making him aware of three things. One, he’s not in the privacy of his room. Two, he has a raging hardon. Three, he doesn’t live on his own and Max and Dustin are visiting. He really doesn’t want to be caught like this. He knows that if it’s Dustin he’ll probably make a bee line back to bed, after all there’s not much light coming from outside which means it’s fairly early in the morning, same with Max, but if it’s Robin getting ready for work he really doesn’t want to put her through seeing him with a tent in his pants. They might be platonic soulmates, but there are some things that she does not need to see.

The bathroom door opening and closing kicks him into motion, he sits up and grabs the closest cushion to place over his groin, how he manages to swallow down a groan from the contact is beyond him.

“Oh, you’re awake,” Robin says, surprise evident in her voice as she emerges from the bathroom, “You guys stayed up really late last night.”

“Yeah, we-” His voice comes out strained and he clears his throat hoping to sound more natural, the last thing he needs is her asking questions, “-we found a channel that had Lord of the rings on, the movie was just starting so,”

“The first one?”

“Nope, The two towers.”

“Awesome, I love the body count competition between Legolas and Gimli.”

“Yeah,” He’s trying his hardest not to move, sitting almost painfully still as he silently wills his problem to go away and put him out of his misery, “good thing you went to bed early instead of staying up with us, or you wouldn’t have gotten up in time for work today.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me of my obligations. Anyways, I’m heading out, I’ll grab something to eat on my way to work so don’t make a fuss about me not having breakfast.” She says heading for the door. “See ya later, dingus.”

He practically runs to the bathroom the moment Robin is gone, double and triple checking the door is locked behind him.

He needs a cold shower, he should get a change of clothes from his room, but that’ll be too risky. He steps under the stream of water, the temperature dial turned all the way down. The water is icy cold as it runs down his back and he stares straight ahead at the tiles in front of him trying his best to think of the most unsexy thoughts he can possibly muster. It seemed like a good plan in theory, until his brain seems insistent on replaying the sound of Eddie’s husky voice calling him ‘good boy’, on reliving the feeling of his lips across Steve’s torso and- nope, this is not working.

A frustrated groan escapes his lips, he tips his head back and pushes his hair out of his face with both hands. Maybe he should just deal with the problem. But that means jerking off while inevitably thinking of Eddie. Bad idea. We don’t involve friends in sexual fantasies, it’s your number one rule.

He never has been very good at following his own rules. He trails a hand down his body, biting his bottom lip so hard he’s sure he’s going to leave marks as he tries his best not to make a noise when he finally grips himself. If he squeezes his eyes shut tight enough he can still see the vision of Eddie hovering above him in his dream. A violent shiver wracks his body and it isn’t because of the cold water.

He steps out of the bathroom feeling dirtier than he did before his shower. It’s official, he is never looking Eddie in the eye again.

Dustin is a heavy sleeper, something Steve was very thankful for when it allowed him to sneak into his room, towel wrapped firmly around his waist, to grab some clothes. He guesses he has maybe an hour at most before he and Max are awake so he heads back to the bathroom to get dressed then gets started on breakfast.

He's almost done plating the bacon and chocolate chip pancakes by the time Max wanders out of Robin's room.

"Good morning, sunshine!" He says in a sing-song voice as she pulls a chair to sit on the breakfast bar dividing the kitchen from the small dining room that’s also part of their living room, “Sleep well?”

“Morning, as well as I could, considering the fact that Robin likes to climb on people when she sleeps.”

“Yeah,” he says slowly, placing a plate with a stack of pancakes and some bacon strips “Just like a koala.”

“Long lost cousin.” she sighs, digging into her food. “Dustin awake yet?”

“He went straight into the bathroom saying something about not wanting to wait ages if you went in first.”

“What a baby.” She says munching on a strip of bacon just as Dustin comes out of the bathroom, hair still wet.

“Hey, your hair is longer and you’ve been using Steve’s products and hair routine, it’s time consuming Max.”

“Says the one that’s been using Steve’s conditioner.”

“Come on guys don’t fight, and Dustin you can’t rush hair care, you know that. Now sit down and eat your breakfast before it gets cold. ”

“Yes, mom.”

Dustin inhales his breakfast without the need for any further encouragement, Max isn’t too far behind him, excusing herself to go shower once she has cleared her plate and leaving Dustin to help Steve with the dishes.

“What’re we doing today?” Dustin asks, drying the glass Steve hands to him.

“I was thinking we could go to the mall. There’s this store there that sells all your favorite nerdy shit and one with everything you may need if you’re a badass skater.” He knows the proper terms for said ‘nerd shit’, it would be almost impossible not to after all the years he spent in the company of Dustin and the rest of the kids, who are no longer kids, but it’s so much more amusing seeing the annoyed look on Dustin's face at his crude terminology.

“Oh yeah? Did Eddie tell you about it?” He leans over wiggling his eyebrows at Steve.

“Shut up.” He flicks some of the sudsy water in Dustin’s direction who yelps and jumps back as if scalded.

Max joins them thirty minutes later, hair washed, dried and pulled into a slicked back ponytail, just as they finish putting away the last of the crockery.

“How do you feel about the mall today?” Steve asks, slinging the dish towel he was holding over his shoulder. “Might not be as fun as going to Hellfire, but they have ac there.”

“Sure,” she shrugs, “Sounds cool.”

Steve doesn’t hang out at malls regularly, not since senior year when he and Robin were working in one at least, but he takes them to the one he visits on the rare occasion he and Robin decide to hang out there for a day. The drive is short, it takes longer to get the two college students in the car after another argument over the passenger seat than to get to the mall.

Steve knows the two little exploiters will try to get him to pay for as many things as they can, not for the first time he’s glad he’s great at budgeting. They spend entirely too long trying to choose a movie to watch to end up only buying some popcorn and sodas without getting tickets to watch a movie.

They make their way to the store with all the skating equipment. Max exits said store with a brand new set of glow in the dark wheels while Steve’s wallet feels a little lighter.

Steve has to intervene in another argument when Dustin insists on going inside yet another video game store.

“Seriously, Dustin. This is the third one, they all have the same games!”

“But not the same prices, I need to compare!"

"As if you're actually going to buy anything."

"You don't know how much cash I saved up for this trip."

"I know it's not enough for you to splurge on a game."

“Okay, okay, Dustin you’ll have to pick. Either you go inside this one store or we can go to the DnD store Eddie recommended since I remember both of you wanted to check out that one store that sells comics before going back home.” That stops the argument before it can escalate, his words leaving Dusting with a decision to make.

“Alright, let’s go to the DnD store.”

“Great, nerd stuff.”

“You do know that some years ago comics weren’t considered cool and were, in fact, also seen as nerd stuff. Ergo, that also makes you a nerd, Max.”

“Henderson, don’t start shit again. Keep walking.” Steve says. He swears no matter how many years have passed, they still act like bickering kids at any chance they get.

The store is on the smaller side. The store’s employee greets them distractedly, as he organizes the shelves behind the front counter. Dustin’s attention is immediately grabbed by the figurine kits in display. Max and him seem to have the same idea when they make their way to a corner of the store. A vantage point where they can see Dustin no matter where he goes inside the store.

Steve notices the way her eyes keep on ‘sneaking’ glances at him. A sure indication that she has something to say but is still deciding where to begin.

After a couple of minutes, Max finally breaks the comfortable silence between them. “So, Eddie Munson.”

“Huh?” Out of all the topics she could’ve wanted to talk about, he didn’t think Eddie would be one of them.

“I’m not blind, Steve. I know exactly how you look like when you have a crush.” She crosses her arms in front of her.

“I don’t have a crush.” Is his immediate response.

“Yeah, like you didn’t have a crush on Billy before dating him? Or your crush on Robin when you first met her? And what about Leslie? And John? Oh! And remember-”

“Okay, okay, I get it.” He hip checks her to get her to stop bringing up his past relationships. “I’ll admit it, he’s cute.”

“Uh huh, and must be smart enough to play Basements and Lizards which also makes him a nerd. Plus long wavy hair and big brown eyes. He’s exactly your type. You’re in so much trouble, Steve.”

“He’s just a friend, Max.” Steve says, turning his attention back to Dustin he watches him inspect the dice sets. “Besides, I doubt I’m his type.”

“Please,” She rolls her eyes at him, “you’re everyone’s type.”

“I’m not. If I was then my love life wouldn’t be, what did you call it the other day? Oh, yeah! Terminally tragic.” He huffs a laugh.

“Just because you’re everyone’s type doesn’t mean you’ll attract the right kind of company.”

“No shit.”

“Okay, listen. I have eyes and these eyes can clearly see that you’re either falling for the coolest nerd we’ve ever met or you’re already so deep you don’t even realize it.” She gives him her patented no bullshit stare. He sighs.

“I know you’re going to say that I should go for it, but I can’t.”

“Why, because you think he doesn’t find you attractive? Steve, I don’t have enough fingers to count the amount of times I caught him staring at you.” She says. “I can tell he’s interested. So why not?”

“I can’t, Max. I, he’s the first friend around my age I’ve made since Robin, and before you mention him Jonathan is closer to a brother than a friend and you know it.” he points his index finger at her before mirroring her stance with his arms crossed in front of his chest. “I can’t fuck it up, because, let’s be real, I have an impressive track record of fucking most of my relationships up. The only steady shit I have going on is with Robin and you bunch of little assholes.”

“Give yourself a break, Steve. We all know that more times than not your relationships end in disaster because you have a tendency to fall for assholes that don’t deserve you. Don’t think I’ll ever forget how Billy treated you and how you stayed with him far longer than you should have.” Steve looks at her in surprise. He never thought about what his relationships looked like from the outside. Even more so his relationship with her stepbrother.

Everything had been fast and rough with Billy. Impulsive and all consuming. They were a secret to almost everyone in town. The previous head of the popular crowd of Hawkins high was fucking with the new one.

Steve likes to believe that if things had been a little bit different, if he had been a bit bolder in letting Billy know he had his back and encouraged him more to denounce his father for domestic violence, if he hadn’t been raised with such disgusting views on masculinity, if they had more time. Maybe, just maybe, Billy could have changed.

He firmly believes that Billy still had some good in him even when he actively chose to be an asshole to most people he came across that didn’t fit society's mold. That the way he acted and the way he presented himself in public was just his shield. He still believes that things could have been different.

He still remembers that night they were lying on his bed when he asked him to move into his empty house with Max and her mom, when he offered to go with him to see Hopper and finally get rid of Mr. Hargrove. He had hoped for his acceptance, for an ‘Okay’ and a night of planning, but instead of accepting they just ended up fighting, Billy storming out of his house after getting dressed never to be seen alive again.

Sometimes he regrets those words.

“You know, you are a better brother than Billy ever was,” Max’s voice brings him back from his thoughts, “and a good mom too.” She turns to look at him, eyebrows raised and her always present smirk whenever she teases him. He snorts at the last part.

For as much shit the kids have always given him over being a mother hen, the inside joke is different between Max and himself; afterall he did everything he could to be there for her and her mother during the fallout between Susan and Mr. Hargrove after the car accident that took Billy’s life.

“How is she?”

“She’s okay.” He watches her shrug her shoulders. “Still sober and doing her best everyday.” She smiles softly at him.

“I’m glad.”

“Steve, I just want you to be happy.” Her smile falls, replaced by a worried expression.

“Hey, I’ll be fine, bug.”

“Fine is not happy, Steve.” She says. Throwing back at him the same words he once said to her when she was still struggling with accepting his help.

“I know.” He sighs. “But it’s good enough for now.”

Max only hums in response.

“When did you grow up so much? you’re all wiser and shit.” He really can’t believe how all of his kids have grown up so much so fast.

“I’ve always been wise, it’s not my fault that you’re only now realizing it.”

“Ha! Yeah, right. Well, aren’t you going to browse the store too?” He nudges her with his shoulder.

“Why would I?” Steve knows he fell right into her trap the moment her smirk returns. “So you can get something for your lover boy? What was it you called him? Oh, right! Your Eds.” Max laughs.

“Shut up.” Predictably, she laughs harder.

And if he buys a fake silver ring shaped like a dragon, well he can handle Max’s jabs for the rest of her stay.

< Chapter 6 ~ Masterpost ~ Chapter 8 >

#steddiebigbang 2023 #steddie big bang 2023 #a home for broken hearts #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #teacher! steve harrington #bartender! eddie munson #robin buckley #dustin henderson #max mayfield #stranger things

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detroit-grand-prix · 2 years

Text

Wildest Dreams Chapter 11 - Better Than Revenge

Chapter summary: The GP3 season starts in earnest for Bee, and she's settling into her routine after moving to the UK full-time. There's new feelings to contend with, including racing at the track that almost ended her career before it started.

Content warning: N/A

Chapter word count: 3,685

Author’s notes: Both of the companies I mentioned, and are both based in Michigan. I'm trying to go for something as close to reality as possible, so I used some real companies. No, I didn't get paid to namedrop them.

I'm sure most people know the story of George Russell and his PowerPoint presentations, but here it is if you don't. It's very charming.

George's placements in this chapter are real, except for the Monza one. He actually did win that one, but I decided it was high time that Bee got on the top step of the podium. And the Monza GP3 sprint race was cancelled due to heavy rain that year.

Previous Chapter

Brackley, Northampton, England, United Kingdom Mid-December, 2016

After securing her placement for the 2017 season, Bee’s life changed very rapidly within a few weeks. Since she was going to be mostly based around Brackley, she ended up moving to the UK, out of her parents’ house. She moved in the second week of December, but would be returning to Stuttgart for the Christmas break.

She rented a small furnished flat in Northampton, and bought a car - the first car she’d owned - on a company leasing scheme that Mercedes offered its employees. Fortunately, the discount was generous, so she was able to splurge a little on it. She got a silver AMG A45 4matic hatchback and absolutely loved it. (She hated that it was a UK-spec one, though, because right-hand drive would never not be strange to her.)

The day before the holiday break, Toto summoned her to his office. She was a little nervous about that - she felt like she’d been called to the principal’s office and she wasn’t sure why. She went to the office and knocked on the glass door. Toto looked up from his laptop and gestured for her to come in.

The room reminded her a bit of a fish tank - almost every wall was transparent glass, no privacy at all. There was a large glass trophy case right in the middle of the floor that displayed an assortment of medals. The walls had bookshelves with some trophies, some helmets, and various books.

“We have a few contracts to review,” Toto said as Bee sat in the chair across from his desk. “You’ve gotten a few sponsorship offers, which is a very good thing. After our press release went out, it was circulated to the news in your home state, and there’s a few companies interested in sponsoring a rising hometown hero, it seems.”

“What? Like… who?” Bee was confused. She knew that someday soon she’d need to find sponsors, but couldn’t fathom the idea of sponsors wanting to find her, especially because Formula 1 didn’t have much notoriety in the United States, let alone the feeder series.

“We have one from a mortgage lender called Quicken Loans, one from a grocery store chain called… May… May-jer Major? I don’t know what this word is in English.”

“What?” Bee stood up to look across the desk at the document Toto was holding.

“Oh, Meijer. ‘Mye-yer’. It’s Dutch. There’s a lot of Dutch people in Michigan.”

“Ah - that’s a bit surprising. But, anyway, I’ve already taken a look at the contracts, and I just want to go through these with you step-by-step, discuss what changes we’d like for the terms and things.”

Neither one of the sponsorship deals were for earth-shattering amounts of money, but for a junior formula driver that only had a high school education, it certainly meant she’d be making a perfectly comfortable living. By the end of the meeting, Bee felt like her eyes were crossed and she barely understood a word Toto was saying. “Sorry but… this just seems like a lot.”

Toto chuckled. “It can be. But you’ll start to understand these things eventually. I am your manager, but ultimately, I’m just making suggestions here. If you don’t agree with me on something, please feel free to let me know and we can discuss it.”

“I think everything is fine with the changes you’ve suggested, I just… honestly wasn’t expecting to be getting personal sponsors already, especially before I even sought them out.” Bee sighed and rubbed her temples. “I know having to do these things is just a fact of life in this sport, believe me, but the idea of having obligations beyond just… racing. Like, being a spokesperson or something. The idea of it feels so strange to me.”

Toto nodded. “I understand. It’s normal to feel the pressure, but you don’t have to go all in on these things right now. It’s important for you to remember just to keep a solid perspective on the things you have to worry about now. These contracts are fairly basic, just logos on your car and your suit. The rest of it - having to do marketing, whatever else - it will come in time. And I’ll have your back when the time comes for bigger things like this.”

Bee felt a little better. It was hard to not let her thoughts get carried away, but Toto was right - getting worried about the details of the future right now wouldn’t help.

She headed back for Stuttgart the next day. It barely felt like she’d left, but she needed to hit the ground running after the holidays with simulator work and preparing for pre-season testing, so she didn’t have a lot of choice other than moving in a hurry.

She was happy to be home for Christmas, though. She’d been running from one thing to the next, all over the world, for the last three months of the year, and it finally felt like she could take a breath. She made the most of the downtime, too - she slept in, ate too much, went to the Weihnachtsmarkt with her parents, hung out with some of her German friends, bought gifts, and just enjoyed herself for two weeks.

After the new year, she had to travel to Le Mans, France, for things at the DAMS headquarters - getting fitted for her race seat, meeting the rest of the team, and some PR functions. After that, it was back to the UK.

As a mercy, her schedule mostly fell into a daily routine at the Mercedes factory without any travel until March, when she would head to Portugal for the first round of GP3 pre-season testing. It almost felt like she had a normal job, except the normal job was driving a fake car around a fake track. She and the other development drivers were officially testing the W08. When she wasn’t in the sim, she worked with her trainer, and sometimes shadowed the engineers and strategists. She loved it, even the stuff that didn’t involve racing. She was developing a fascination with race strategy - it was something she could see trying to do if racing didn’t work out in the long-term.

Brackley, Northampton, England, United Kingdom January 2017

On her first day back in Brackley, she was standing in a hallway outside of the canteen, talking to someone from the PR department she’d gotten to know a little bit, when she felt two hands clasp her shoulders from behind. It made her jump a bit, and she turned around to see George Russell grinning down at her.

“Alright, Phoebe? Thought that was you when I saw the braids.” She was still wearing her hair in two braids most of the time. She liked the way it looked, and it was the easiest hairstyle to keep her hair somewhat tamed under her helmet.

“Oh my god! George! Hi!” She pulled him into hug.

“It’s good to see you, Phoebe. It’s been a while. Glad to see you back in the saddle after Austria last year. Sorry that Red Bull let you go.”

She stepped back and looked up at him. “Well, I think it worked out in the end. I’m here, aren’t I?”

George laughed. “Yes. And it’s funny that it has, because I think you and I are the only two people that have the dubious honor of turning down an initial offer from Toto Wolff, and now here we are.”

“Wait, what do you mean?”

“Do you remember when we were in F3? I was racing with Carlin, they’re a Volkswagen team, so I couldn’t be sponsored by Mercedes then. And then, I tested in DTM with BMW - they offered me good money, too, but Toto told me if I went that route, I’d never be considered for an F1 seat with Mercedes, so, here I am.”

Bee laughed. “I don’t think I ever heard that. I remember Carlin was a VW team, but I didn’t realize Mercedes made you an offer that long ago.”

“Oh, it’s kind of a funny story, actually. Powerpoint presentations were involved, but I’ll tell you later. I have to get ready for my sim session. We should catch up soon, though.”

In February, the team had an unofficial launch and shakedown for the 2017 iteration of the Formula 1 car at Silverstone. It was a rainy, cold, miserable day, but Bee couldn’t have been more excited to be at the track for it. She stuck by George most of the time, neither of them really sure where to stand without being in the way. They chatted as they huddled against the wind in their black team jackets. They would also be going to watch pre-season testing in Barcelona later that week. Bee watched in awe as Lewis and his new teammate Valtteri completed their laps. She felt tears pricking at the corner of her eyes, but it was hard to say if it was emotion from watching the car make its first laps, or just from the wind.

Barcelona was the real test for the car, with Mercedes putting down impressive times and lap counts. An electrical issue grounded Lewis on the last day, and Mercedes was edged out a bit by Ferrari, but the W08 still managed to impress.

Testing for her own team came around with the spring. There were three testing sessions - one in Portugal, one in Barcelona, and one in Valencia, Spain. George’s team, ART, was absolutely dominant, with him trading top times with his teammate Jack Aitken. Bee wasn’t doing too badly herself, consistently getting into top of the midfield.

Her moderate success, though, had a downside - she always noticed the stares she got as she was walking down the paddock, like she was some sort of novelty. Sometimes she even caught people whispering to each other as she walked by. She had gotten used to it in her European Formula 3 seasons, and she knew as the season went on, it wouldn’t happen as much. It still gave her the feeling that she might not belong here.

She had a Skype session with Natalie after the last round of testing. They talked about the way getting personal sponsorships made Bee feel like she had more responsibility and pressure to deal with, and what she felt like when she was at testing.

“It’s just disheartening.” Bee said to the image of Natalie on her laptop screen. “I’ve been doing this for years and every time I show up to a track in the beginning of the season, people still stare at me. And I can’t even imagine what they’re saying or what they’re thinking, other than wondering what I did to deserve my place. It’s not even like I’m the first woman to race or anything, I’m just the one doing it right now.”

“Well… have you considered that you might be getting the attention because they might be impressed, or even surprised? Are you sure the things they’re saying are negative? Has anyone said anything negative to you?”

Bee thought about it for a moment. “Not… recently, no.”

“I understand why you might assume that it’s something negative. It has been in the past, since you were a kid. But from what you’ve told me, you’ve been putting in good times at testing, so maybe they’re impressed.”

“I didn’t really think about that. It’s not like I would go up to someone and ask.”

“Well, try this. Next time you see someone staring at you, or pointing at you, or what have you, just imagine that they’re just blown away by your presence. Straighten up your back, square your shoulders, put on a little swagger, and walk around like God himself sent you. You don’t have to actually act like that, not that I think you would.” Natalie shook her head. “You might be surprised to find how much reframing your perception might help. Let me know if it does.”

She also got a new helmet ahead of the first race of the season. It had to be blue and white to match the DAMS livery, with the Mercedes star on the front and an AMG logo above the visor. However, it was the first helmet that Bee was able to have some input on the design. Her previous helmets were all Red Bull-branded and just given to her as they came.

She opted for a dark blue background with a design of light blue stars. She thought it suited her, being an American, and she had Susie’s old Williams helmet in mind when she was working with the designer. She couldn’t stop staring at it once she took it out of the box. Her first custom helmet. It felt like a big step, somehow.

The first race weekend arrived. Bee arrived with the Mercedes team on Wednesday as usual for the track walk, and practice was Friday. Qualifying was a 30-minute straight fight for lap time, which determined the grid order for Saturday’s race. Sunday was the second and final race, with the grid decided by the top eight being reversed, so getting eighth on Saturday meant you were on pole position for Sunday, and if you were on pole on Saturday, you had to fight your way back to the front. Bee qualified in P7, and got P8 on Saturday’s race, which meant that she was starting Sunday on pole.

She was incredibly nervous, more nervous than she ever remembered being before the start of a race before. She almost felt a little sick from it. Unlike most drivers, she hated being on pole position. She vastly preferred to do the chasing. As the mechanics got her car positioned on the grid, she thought she was going to chew a hole through the seam of her balaclava - it was a nervous habit she’d had since her karting days. As the grid cleared for the start, she tried to remember the advice Susie had given her before testing, to take some deep breaths to get herself outside of her head, to work on visualizing the line around the track. It helped. Her usual pre-race calm took over, and she was ready.

Despite only being on pole because of the reverse-grid format, she was able to defend spectacularly, only allowing two overtakes, putting her at P3. A podium on her first weekend outing in GP3. She felt so many things at once as she climbed out of her car in parc fermé - relief, elation, joy. When she was on her way back to the pit after the podium ceremony, she saw people’s eyes on her again, but this time, she took Natalie’s advice. She squared her shoulders, raised her chin, and walked down the paddock like she’d just won the World Driver’s Championship.

She sent a text to Susie with a picture of her helmet next to her third-place trophy. She hadn’t talked to her lately - her son, Jack, was born in early April. Bee didn’t want to bother her while she was recovering and trying to adjust to motherhood. “Couldn’t have done it without the advice you gave me at testing this year. I hope you and Jack are doing well.”

She responded when Bee and her parents were out for dinner. “I’ll be at Silverstone this year. I can’t wait to see you. I’m so proud of you.”

The next race on the calendar was at the Red Bull Ring. Bee wasn’t sure how she felt about it. On one hand, she suffered a fairly horrific accident there that almost indirectly ended her career. On the other hand, she’d landed on her feet and ended up with a team that she was much happier with. She was still racing, and she had vastly improved as a driver from putting so much time into the sim. It did bring something to mind, though.

“I have a question,” she said to George while they were eating lunch at the factory after returning from Barcelona. “Do you remember Evgeni Kozlov?”

“Hmmm… wait, that Russian kid that pushed you off at the Red Bull Ring?”

“Yeah. I haven’t seen his name in a while. Is he still in European F3? I haven’t seen him on the F2 roster or anything.”

George raised his eyebrows and finished chewing the bite of food he was eating. “Oh, you must not look at any motorsport news or anything.”

That was accurate. Bee had seen a few articles about her accident after-the-fact, and found it too upsetting to read, mostly because of the deluge of comments about a girl “causing” one of the bigger accidents in an F3 race to date, no matter what the stewards had ruled about the crash. “No, I don’t. After the crash I decided to stop reading racing news. It just wasn’t good for my sanity.”

“Ah, okay, that’s fair. Well, there was a little bit of drama with him. He got pissed at one race about qualifying and decided to overtake during the formation lap, so he got black-flagged for it and got disqualified. And then at another race, his dad got into a fight with his team principal over… something, I don’t know. So, Red Bull dropped him, more or less because he was a PR liability, and his dad took his money out of the Red Bull academy, and there’s not a team that will take him. I don’t even think he’s racing right now.”

“Wow. You’re kidding. Well… that makes me feel better.” Bee leaned back in her chair. She almost felt giddy about it.

“Were you worried he was going to crash into you again or something?”

“No. There was… well, never mind.” The truth wasn’t really a road she wanted to venture down with George right now. “I just could never stand him, and for good reason.” She left it at that.

Austria went well. No podiums for Bee, but George won the first race. Bee ended up in the high end of the midfield again. Her team principal told her he was pleased with her performance regardless. She thought she’d be nervous going back to Austria, but the knowledge that Evgeni was nowhere near a race track took the edge off, somehow.

Silverstone arrived on an overcast weekend, but even the dark clouds couldn’t dampen the mood in the Mercedes garage, with a 1-2 for Lewis and Valtteri, and Lewis getting his third career grand slam.

In the GP3 race, George won again, but Bee had a bit of a rough weekend. She had a mechanical retirement in the sprint race because of a brake failure, and only got P9 in the feature race. It was her first mechanical DNF, and even though there was little to be done about it, Bee still felt bad. Susie found her after she walked back to the pit lane during the sprint race, and gave her a hug.

“I’m sorry, I know it’s tough. It happens to everyone at some point, and you were still impressive in the feature race. You’ve come so far as a driver already.”

“I know. But even the feature race was my worst placement this season.”

“Well,” Susie said. “If you were doing that well at your worst, I cannot wait to see you at your best.”

Susie had her over to their house for dinner that night, and she got to meet Jack. Bee hadn’t ever been the kind of person that sought out interactions with children, but he was a really cute baby. And, as Bee found out, holding a baby was surprisingly good for chasing away the sadness of a less-than-stellar race weekend.

As the season proceeded, Bee got another podium or two, and was always inside the points. She was happy with that. Sure, she was racing to win, but the GP3 field was uncommonly deep and talented that season, and Bee was very proud of being the “best of the rest”.

Bee finally got a taste of victory at Monza. Bee qualified in sixth. Saturday’s feature race was canceled because of heavy rain on the track, meaning the feature race was moved to Sunday, and there would be no time for the sprint race.

During the feature race, she was particularly dialed-in. All she had on her mind was trying to make as many overtakes as possible, and she interrupted what would have been an all-ART podium with a stunning last-second overtake on George right before the line. Bee was a little surprised when her engineer said she’d managed to pull off the last bit of distance and pull off a P1. It was her first-ever victory since she’d started racing in single-seaters, and it was at the same track that she’d gotten her first podium in Formula Renault. She cried on the podium, at the top step. She didn’t even try to stop it.

She would later laugh at the picture of her and George - even with her standing on the top step, she was still shorter than him.

Bee and George walked back to the Mercedes garage after changing out of their racing gear and back into their Mercedes team kit to watch the F1 Grand Prix, and both of them were met with cheers from the entire crew. Toto pulled Bee into an enormous hug that lifted her off of her feet (not difficult considering the height difference between the two of them).

“I’m so proud of you, bienchen. That was truly amazing driving out there.” He said. “You’ve come so far.”

That night, she let herself indulge in every scrap of news on motorsports blogs she could find. One article mentioned that she was the first woman ever to achieve a victory in the GP3 series, which would be more impressive if the series hadn’t only launched in 2010, but she would take it. It was nice to know that she’d put a small mark on the history of racing.

Next Chapter

#f1 fanfic #f1 oc fanfic #formula 1 fanfic #original character #female oc #female f1 driver #susie wolff #toto wolff #george russell #my fanfic #series: wildest dreams

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