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lucyrose191 · 4 months

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BROKEN DECISIONS| T.WOLFF

Pairing; Divorced!Toto Wolff x fem!engineer!Schumacher!reader

Summary; The news of Toto Wolff divorcing from Susie has just hit the media and you, Michael Schumacher’s eldest daughter and George Russel’s race engineer, are beyond shocked, even more so as your relationship with your boss begins to evolve.

Warnings; angst, light smut, heartbreak, pregnancy trope.

F1 Master List , Part 2

The paddock was overwhelmed with media reporters and cameras, way more than usual for a race weekend, the Mercedes garage was surrounded by people as well as the entrance to the track, all waiting for one man, Toto Wolff.

You had been more than taken back by the joint statements released this morning which both effectively said the same thing.

mercedesamgf1: Team Principle Toto Wolff announces divorce from wife Susie Wolff, both will continue to co-parent son Jack Wolff and will continue to work together happily, they wish nothing but the best for each other in the future and wish for the privacy and support they need during this time.

SusieStoddart: Toto and I have mutually decided to part ways and divorce after 12 years of marriage, both of us will continue to co-parent our son, Jack and will continue working together in the future. I wish nothing but the best to him for the future, please respect our privacy during this time and I hope you guys will continue to support us both from this point on, even on our separate paths. Thank you.

It all seemed so sudden to you, nothing has seemed out of place whenever they were in the garage together but you suppose that’s how the saying you never know what’s going on behind closed doors goes.

You squeezed your way through the crowd, ignoring all of the questions fired your way and the cameras and microphones that were shoved in your face, it wasn’t your job to be making comments about a relationship that had nothing to do with you and it was entirely unprofessional.

Huffing out a breath as you finally crossed the threshold of the garage, you straightened out your clothes and bag before making your way over to your desk that you sat at whenever George was out on the track.

Bono was already in his chair and looked up when he heard you pull your hair out, taking note of your flustered state. "I take it you’ve seen the news."

"It’s everywhere! It’d be a miracle if I hadn’t seen it," you huffed. Looking around, you noticed how flustered everyone else seemed to be whilst trying to do their jobs, you didn’t blame them because right now no one knew what mood the boss was going to be in when he arrived, if he arrived.

"Is he even coming today? I certainly wouldn’t." You asked.

Bono shrugged, "you know what he’s like, that man would be here even if his leg was falling off, he’ll be here and god help him when he is."

"Yeah, true. Am I blind though or did anyone else not see this coming because they were both at the factory two weeks ago and everything seemed fine to me."

Bono turned away from his monitor and completely turned to you, huddling closer. "I didn’t suspect anything either but they’re really good as keeping work life and private life separated. Have you seen some of the rumours though?"

You snorted and nodded your head, "I’ve seen the ones about Toto having an affair which is ridiculous, that man does not have the time to be hiding an entire relationship."

Bono laughed at your choice of words but abruptly stopped as he stared behind you causing you to look at him in confusion before turning around, pausing at the sight of your boss walking in with a face of stone.

"Ahh shit," you muttered, hearing a small hum of agreement coming from Bono.

Then you saw him heading into your direction.

"Double shit," You heard Bono mumble causing you to bite your lip, trying to prevent yourself from smiling.

"Y/N. Bono. Good Morning," Toto nodded his head in greeting.

You smiled up at him, "Morning, boss, feeling positive about today?"

Bono sighed from behind you which caused you to internally wince at your own words, now realising that might not have been a good question to ask.

"Yeah," Toto looked between the pair of you suspiciously. "Are you?"

"Very," you tried to sound convincing, "I’m sure George is going to drive like it’s his last race and if not then I’ll boot him up the arse."

Toto looked at you amused, "I believe you."

After he walked away you turned to Bono with a pained look on your face meanwhile he was trying not to fall into laughter. "What the fuck is wrong with me?"

He laughed straight in your face as you sighed at yourself. "How an I supposed to talk to him normally when all I want to say to his face is ‘hey, heard about your divorce, that sucks and now everyone thinks you can’t keep a wife’."

"Yeah don’t say that," Bono grimaced at your words.

Everything was real now, it had been real for a while but now the news was out for everyone to gossip about.

Things hadn’t been right for a long time between him and Susie and whilst there hadn’t been any constant arguing or disloyalty between the two of them, there hadn’t been much else either.

You’d have thought working within the same industry would have built an understanding between them about their schedules and commitments and it had in the beginning but as formula one became more popular, their lives had only gotten busier to the point they hardly saw each other and even when they did it was only to ensure Jack was getting enough quality time with both of his parents, it was as though they had been coparenting with each other whilst they weren’t even split.

A year ago they had accepted the inevitable fate of their marriage and had been figuring out the logistics of their divorce but just like they had kept their struggles silenced, they had kept the news of their parting silent too.

But it had been over a year now and quite frankly the fake shows they were putting on were getting exhausting, they were both moving on and pretending to still be a happily married couple wasn’t doing well in helping them in the process.

Toto had found a particular thing that hadn’t allowed him to dwell in the sadness of his private life. Something, or someone, that didn’t even know how much they were helping him.

You.

Everyday you showed up to work with a smile on your face, eternally grateful for everything life had offered you. You had achieved your dreams of working within formula one, it might not have been on the track driving at record breaking speeds like your father but you had one of the most important roles in the team and you enjoyed it.

Even today as he walked through the doors trying to ignore all of the sad, pathetic looks people were giving him and the onslaught of invasive questions people were attacking him with and even if they weren’t verbally shooting words his way, he could see the unasked questions in everyone’s eyes, you greeted him like you did every other day and whilst he knew you were aware of the news, nothing in your face showed the slightest bit of curiosity towards the end of his marriage and he couldn’t express how refreshing that was and how much he needed it.

Slowly, he found himself looking forward to the days ahead where he could bump into you and witness the smile on your face as he tried to ignore the way your energy made his heart feel funny and when Mick signed as the team’s reserve driver he would use the fact that he was ‘mentoring’ your little brother as an excuse to see you, knowing that naturally he would be around you more.

You jumped up from your seat in excitement as you saw both Mercedes cars pass the checkered flag securing second and third place behind Max, obviously.

"George you fucking beautiful human bring!" You shouted through the radio before turning to look for Toto, hoping that these results would have put a smile on his face only to find that he was already looking at you intensely, not even acknowledging the pats he was getting on his back by team members.

He winked at you? And sent you what seemed to be a grateful smile before turning away to celebrate with those around him. You were thankful he did so and didn’t see the pink hue you could feel spreading through your cheeks.

A sudden weight on your back didn’t allow you to dwell on it. Mick had launched himself at you in his exhilaration causing you to quickly latch onto his legs so you both didn’t go tumbling, you laughed and spun the pair of you around before putting him down so you could all go outside and gather in the pits to watch the podium.

You always went out of your way to be a kind person but the moment your team was standing under the podium all manners went out of the way and you barged your way to the front of the barriers to watch, mumbling half-hearted apologies, you knew no one would take your behaviour the wrong way as you’ve known them for so long.

Looking up, you were happy to see the smiles on Lewis and George’s faces, tough seasons can really take a told on the mental health of the drivers and it can be easy to lose motivation, especially when you were part of a team that was so used to winning but they looked as happy as ever now and it made all of the hard work that everyone had put in worth it.

Two hands clamped down on your shoulders startling you, followed by the feeling of a firm chest being pressed up against your back. You looked up and saw Toto but he wasn’t looking at you, he kept his gaze up on the podium and the happiness on his face hadn’t subsided so you didn’t question it and turned back to the celebrations.

His behaviour was really confusing you and you wanted to talk to him about it but decided to push it away for another day.

His behaviour hasn’t been limited to that day alone.

The entire season has been filled with soft touches from him, from a small brush of his hand against your back as he walked past or light touches of your hips to guide you to the side when you were in his walk way.

Let’s not forget about the way he started to look at you. Toto’s stare was always intense but now you couldn’t ignore the soft shine his eyes held as he looked at you.

You hoped you weren’t reading too much into things otherwise that would be embarrassing but you couldn’t stop noticing the little things he would do and what was even worse was the way these things were effecting you.

These touches would leave your skin feeling tingly and your head fuzzy to the point your mind just turned blank and now whenever he was so much as in the same room as you, your mind became hyper-fixated on his presence to the point it felt like you were compelled to constantly glance in his direction.

You had worked for him for nearly eight years and not once had you even considered looking at him in any other way other than as your boss and a friend.

You acknowledged that he was handsome and had the charisma to match but you had never been attracted to him up until now, how was this year any different to the last seven?

Hands slamming down into your desk startled you from your thoughts, you looked up wide eyed at the grinning face of your younger brother causing you to grumble in annoyance and throw the pen that was sitting on your desk at him.

"What’s wrong with your face?" Mick easily dodged your attack and asked.

"What do you mean?" You asked.

"My big sister always has a smile on her face and for the last twenty minutes you’ve been sat there staring at nothing with a frown on your face."

"Nothing," you muttered, turning back to your laptop screen that had long since shut off.

"Right," Mick replied sarcastically, "Come on, tell me what’s wrong."

You pursed your lips as you debated telling him or not. "You promise not to tell anyone?"

Mick’s face lost its teasing look as he realised you were actually troubled. "Of course." He replied sincerely.

You hesitated for a moment longer before asking "have you noticed that Toto has been acting strange lately?"

Mick looked at you surprised for a moment before smirking and nodded, "you mean the fact that the entire season he’s been staring at you like you’re the finest piece of meat he’s ever seen?" He asked teasingly.

"I wouldn’t have worded it that way but yeah," you responded.

"Then yes, I’m surprised it took you this long to acknowledge it."

You shook your head, "I noticed it at the beginning of the season but I thought I was imagining it and now I can’t stop noticing the fact that he-"

"Fancies the hell out of you?" Mick finished, a shit eating grin on his face.

You groaned and placed your head against your desk. "This is wrong, he’s my boss!"

"Tell me about it, he’s mine too and he fancies my sister!"

"Stop saying he fancies me!" You told him resulting in him just laughing at you. "Seriously Mick, what am I supposed to do?"

Mick sighed and looked at you seriously, "Do you like him?"

"I dont know," you replied honestly, "before this season I wouldn’t have even looked at him as anything but my boss and a friend but now he keeps looking at me and taking any opportunity to touch me and it’s confusing me."

Mick pulled an uncomfortable face at your words but gave you some advice. "Then do nothing until you know for sure."

You nodded and he smiled before walking around your desk and wrapping you in a tight hug which was more like a headlock but it was a hug nonetheless.

"Smile! We’re in Abu Dhabi and we’re partying tonight," he fake cheered as he walked away causing you to laugh at his behaviour.

And that’s exactly what you did. It had been a tough season for Mercedes, the team hadn’t nearly performed as well as they were used to but through a lot of hard work the season had ended on a high note and and no one was going to dwell on this years difficulties tonight.

You were definitely allowing yourself some freedom tonight to drink away and forget about the confusing thoughts that had been swimming around in your head all season.

The club was dark except for the colourful flashing lights that were roaming the entirety of the room that the FIA had rented out for all of the f1 teams celebrating tonight. You were already feeling more relaxed from the three drinks you hadn’t wasted time on consuming and had dragged poor Bono, who had zero rhythm, to the dance floor.

The man looked traumatised as he simply stood there awkwardly with you holding onto his hands, swaying his arms to try and encourage him to dance and have a bit of fun.

You kept him there for an hour before eventually taking pity on him and letting him go, you walked over to the bar to get another drink, not seeing the person approaching you until he was right beside you.

"You look lovely."

You turned to your right in surprise, Toto was mimicking your stance, leaning his side against the bar as he looked into yours eyes. "Thank you," you replied, a little shocked at his words.

"I see you were having fun with Bono," he commented absentmindedly.

You laughed, "Me? Yes. I don’t think he was having as much fun as I was."

"He’s not much of a dancer," Toto smirked.

"Oh, I know. He can’t move to save his life but it doesn’t mean he shouldn’t try."

The bartender placed your drink in front of you and you took a sip after giving him a thanks. "Have you been having fun?" You asked.

Toto tapped his fingers against the bar top and signed. "As much as I can after the shit season we’ve had."

"We’ll be better next year," you replied confidently.

He simply nodded in response, dragging his gaze down your body and back up again.

The feeling of his eyes trailing you left a burning heat on your skin and an unfamiliar fluttering in your stomach.

"I like this dress," he told you, nodding at the tight fabric that clung to your figure.

"I got it yesterday," you knew he didn’t care but for some reason you felt inclined to share that information with him, fighting the urge to look away and hide a smile.

"You picked wisely," he immediately responded and this time you didn’t fight the smile, his smooth responses settling within you exactly how he wanted.

"I’m glad you like it," your voice was quiet in the midst of the loud music and voices but it didn’t prevent him from hearing you words.

The way he smirked down at you made you feel much smaller than you were, the idea of how his stature and strength would help with the power he held over you made you burn with need and the want to find out for yourself.

You huffed out a breath.

You needed another drink.

You threw your head back into the pillows and gasped as Toto thrusted into you, pulsating pleasure rushing through your body with every movement.

You didn’t know how you got to this point, the night was a haze of drinking, close dancing and longing looks but the one memory that stood out was the warmth of Toto’s hands against your hips, after that everything blurred up until this moment.

Your arm wrapped around the back of his neck, your hand burying itself into his hair as you tried to ground yourself but you were hopeless within the haze of his kisses against your throat and hands holding your thighs spread for him.

"Toto!"

His breath was heavy against your skin. "You feel so good, schatz." The guttural groan he released sent you feral, you tightened your grip on him and pulled him closer so your chests pressed against each other.

Your vision went white as Toto just grazed that sweet spot inside you with one particularly hard thrust before he angled his hips in a way that with each bruising snap of his hips he made, the tip of his cock would brush against you just right.

As you felt yourself approaching your release, your back arched and the air remained trapped in your lungs, your grip tightened on Toto’s hair causing him to groan into your neck while your other hand shot up behind you and grabbed onto the headboard.

Just as you were at the precipice of your release, Toto reached down and circled your clit with his fingers providing the last bit of stimulation needed for you to let go and dive into a river of overwhelming pleasure.

The sight of your face completely blissed out made Toto’s cock harden more inside of you, he continued to thrust and work you through your orgasm whilst chasing his own, chasing his release as he felt his body fill with an indescribable need to continue rutting into you.

The groan of relief he let out followed by a warmth in your core brought you back to reality, Toto allowed his body to collapse onto your own and simply lay there as he caught his breath and recovered from his own orgasm.

Your hand continued to run through his hair, grounding his mind to reality and encouraging him back from his high.

Moments later, Toto removed himself from you and curled up behind you, wrapped an arm across your stomach and pulled you into his chest.

Both still feeling the haze of the alcohol in your systems, no words needed to be spoken between the pair of you as you both succumbed to much needed sleep.

You woke up feeling as though your brain was swelling beyond the capacity of your skull and dehydrated to the point you felt like you could drink about forty litres of water.

Every part of your body ached as you moved beneath the covers, flashes of last night flickered through your mind causing you to groan at the reminder of your drink choices.

You were definitely regretting it now.

A particular memory caused you to pause and look beneath the sheets, grimacing as you realised you were naked.

Then you froze, Toto.

Your head shot to the side and instead of laying your eyes upon your boss’ 6ft5 frame you were greeted by an empty half of the bed with only crumpled white sheets.

Your heart dropped as you looked around the room, there was no indication that anyone else had been here but the ache between your legs made it very clear that last night did in fact happen.

He had left.

After an entire season of fighting with your feelings and the way he made you feel, you had given in to him only for him to leave.

You felt sick and dirty and disgusting and used.

You pulled yourself into the shower and tried to to push down the need to cry but you were filled with an overwhelming sense of betrayal and couldn’t stop the rogue fear that fell down your cheek.

Waiting to board the plane back to England, you looked down at your phone, you had a feeling Toto was already there by now and you had messaged him ages ago but no response.

Had you been crazy believing that he could have feelings for you?

You were so mad at yourself for being as affected as you were by his actions, it felt like someone had your heart in their fist and found amusement in squeezing it, filling you with the need to just let go and allow your emotions to flow freely.

You didn’t need to be back at the factory until after Christmas so you went straight home and unpacked your bag before repacking to go and spend your time off in Switzerland with your family, Toto still hadn’t responded and you were positive he was just ignoring you now and you didn’t try to get a response.

You’d deal with that after Christmas.

Normally you’d wait a week or two after the season ended to go back home but you really had no reason to stay, you’d changed your mind on attending the FIA awards which had confused Mick when you told him but he could tell something was wrong and chose not to pry.

You seriously didn’t think the year could get worse, you were so wrong.

The last three weeks in Switzerland had been hell to put it lightly, Christmas was just around the corner but it was hard to be excited when you had caught the sickness bug, the amount of time you spent in bed throwing up was disgusting at this point and the coddling of your family wasn’t helping.

You knew they loved you but you wish they’d just leave you alone to wallow in misery.

Toto was still a lingering thought in the back of your mind and it was only adding to how rubbish you felt but you hadn’t made any other attempt to get in touch, he hadn’t tried either so you knew where you stood with him and that was enough.

New years had passed and you were now back in England to go back to work, you had never dreaded going to work in all the years you’d worked for Mercedes so the unsettling feeling in your stomach was new.

But that could also just be nausea.

You still hadn’t completely recovered from your sickness over the holidays, you were no longer bed bound but the urge to throw up and the loss of appetite was still there, the loss of weight was visible in the sickly paleness of your face so you had booked a doctors appointment for the upcoming Friday.

Your stomach churned as you walked through the doors of the Mercedes headquarters, as the daughter of Michael Schumacher you got a lot more attention in the building as you would’ve if you were just a race engineer so the nods from almost everyone as you walked in weren’t strange to you but the sympathetic looks were.

You hoped it was just because you looked as if you hadn’t seen sun for the past ten years.

Deciding to stop by hospitality on the way to your office for a bottle of water, you paused in the doorway at the sight of Toto and didn’t hesitate to turn right back around before your mind even processed his presence.

You got a few funny looks by the people in there but you truly didn’t care.

It stayed like that for the rest of the week, whenever you found yourself in the same room as your boss there was no time wasted before you left even if there were still things needed to be done in that room, you didn’t even try to be subtle about it either.

As soon as he entered the room you immediately took your leave, it was rude but you couldn’t find it within yourself to care and you doubted he cared either.

You had taken the day off work today to attend your doctor’s appointment so thankfully you didn’t need to waste your efforts avoiding him.

"Symptoms are nausea, sickness and weight loss," The doctor listed and you nodded in clarification.

She looked at you knowingly, "When did your last cycle finish?" She asked.

You pulled a face and leaned your head back in thought, it was probably before Vegas, but that was….. your face grew even paler than it already was.

"November," you whispered, your body filling with complete and utter horror.

The doctor’s face grew sympathetic at your reaction, "and you’ve had unprotected sexual intercourse since then?" She asked though your face gave her the answer.

You were at a loss for words so you resulted in nodding; the idea of you being pregnant only made you feel more sick.

"Okay," she replied softly, "We’ll have you take a test to confirm."

You didn’t even register the next ten minutes, lost in your own mind as an emptiness settled within you, your chest ached with pain at the idea that your whole life could be changed in just a few short minutes.

"Miss Schumacher, are you okay?" The doctor asked worriedly.

You snapped back to reality and nodded numbly.

"The test came back positive, Y/N, so I’ll refer you to a midwife and during this time you should think about what you want to do, okay?"

How you didn’t crash on the way home was a miracle because you definitely weren’t concentrating, you carried your body straight to the bathroom and looked in the mirror, you looked like hell.

Just the sight caused your eyes to well up and this time you didn’t fight the emotions, you welcomed the tears and allowed the pain to consume you, the pain of realising just how alone you were in this moment.

You slid down against the bathroom door and curled yourself into a ball, buried your face into your knees and sobbed until you no longer could.

The weight in your chest was still present as you walked into work the following Monday but you no longer had any tears to spare, you had made up your mind about what your future would consist of and today would mark the beginning of it.

Knocking on the door to Toto’s office, you waited for confirmation to enter and he clearly hadn’t anticipated you on the other side from the look of surprise on his face but you didn’t mention it and closed the door behind you.

"We need to talk," you wasted no time in pleasantries and sat down in the seat opposite him.

"Is there a problem with the car?" He asked, his formal tone cut through you like a knife but you refused to show the effect it had.

You wouldn’t have thought the pair of you were friends just two months ago.

"There’s nothing wrong with the car," you told him.

"What do we need to talk about then?" He asked.

He was royally pissing you off with the way he was pretending to be ignorant. "We need to talk about what happened between us-"

"This is unprofessional," he interrupted and you scoffed in disbelief.

"Unprofessional?" You laughed in his face. "Do you know what else in unprofessional? Sleeping with your employee."

His face dropped at the bluntness of your words, "look, you shouldn’t be bringing private matters into the workplace."

"How else am I supposed to bring them up? Over text message where I never get a response?" You looked at him incredulously. "This is important-"

"I don’t want to hear it, Y/N," he cut you off harshly. "What happened between us shouldn’t have happened, it was a moment of weakness and it will never happen again."

You looked at him stone faced before nodding, "fine." You got up from your seat and left without another word, not bothering closing his door.

You didn’t go to your office, instead you went to HR.

Walking past the different offices you went straight for the head of HR. "Chloe?" You knocked on the door quietly, opening it once you received a response.

She smiled at you in greeting, "Y/N, can I help you with something?"

You nodded softly and sat down on the sofa she had against the wall. "How many holidays do I have?"

She looked at you suspiciously, "All of them, you didn’t put one in for Friday so that went unpaid."

"Okay," you muttered under your breath, "I want to cash them all in, starting from tomorrow."

"What?" She looked at you shocked. "Are you sure? If there’s something going on we can figure out a better solution for you."

You smiled and shook your head, "Uhm no I’m sure, I want to use them all and then after that I’ll be taking early maternity leave."

Chloe’s eyes widened in shock. "Wow, okay, congratulations."

"Thanks, I want to spend my pregnancy in Switzerland so you won’t see me around."

You could see that she had questions but didn’t ask them and you appreciated it, "I understand, I’m happy for you Y/N, I’ll get it all sorted for you."

"Great," you stood up and headed towards the door.

"Y/N?" You turned around, Chloe looked at you sincerely, "Give me a call if you need someone to talk to, yeah?"

You probably wouldn’t but you nodded and left.

To say Toto was surprised when he found out they were down their usual race engineer for the season was an understatement.

It was completely unexpected and he wasn’t the only one who wasn’t happy about it, George was not at all in agreement to having a new voice in his ear.

It wasn’t even for a couple races either, it was for the entire season.

No one in the team had any information on what had happened except two people, Mick and Chloe.

No one could ask Mick because he had left to do the world endurance championship and when Toto had went to ask Chloe all he got was a shrug and words that sounded as though they’d been read from the companies handbook.

"It’s against an employee’s confidentiality rights to discuss the matters with you, even if you are the boss, all I can tell you is she’ll be back at work next year."

Meanwhile, in Switzerland you were slowly but surely feeling much better.

You were putting the situation between you and Toto behind you, you were recovering and as you did, your bump grew and the sight made you smile.

The horror and fear you felt when you found out about your pregnancy had dissipated weeks ago, leaving you filled with excitement and love for the journey you had ahead of you.

With your mother and sister around you, the loneliness you felt had evaporated as well.

You were doing good and felt amazing and that’s all that mattered right now.

#formula one #motorsport #formula one x reader #f1 fanfiction #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #toto wolff x y/n #toto wolff x oc #toto wolff fanfic #toto wolff x you #toto wolff #toto wolff x reader #toto wolff imagine #toto wolff fanfiction #angst

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lovingmattysposts · 5 months

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You don't know me

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pairing: y/n and chris sturniolo

summary: you and chris came from two different sides of the spectrum when it came to the social scale. You had the perfect life, the perfect boyfriend, the perfect parents, but when you start to peal back that layers things got messy. Your life was set and stone, your future was set and stone. That was until he comes and changes everything.

warnings: drinking, partying, smoking, mentions of a toxic relationship. mentions of drunk driving, mentions of alcohol poisoning, smoking

hello!!! and welcome to the first part of my new chris series. I think you guys are going to LOVE this one. I cannot wait to hear your guys thoughts on this, love you as always. also CHRIS HAS A LIP RING IN THE SERIES. you're welcome.

xoxo, autumn

This party sucked. Everyone smelled like beer. It was too loud. Everyone around me was wasted and I just wanted to go home. Every single person I've come in contact with tonight has managed to piss me off in one way or another. Including my boyfriend, Max. Every time he drinks it's like he thinks he can finally say or do anything he wanted to and it did nothing but anger me, but I never said anything. He drinks, that's okay. I guess. I don't. That's okay too, I think.

So mostly being the only sober one at every party he drags me too, isn't necessarily my idea of a good time. Yet I suck it up almost every weekend because I didn't want to upset Max. He does a lot for me I can do things for him. Even if it means that I have to sit in the corner of the room watching my friends get wasted. I mostly find myself watching the clock, hoping one of them decides to call it a night early, or at least get sick so we have an excuse to leave.

This particular night Max was really, really pushing my buttons. First it was about my outfit. He hated it, basically forced me to change. He told me, 'You're an Labraut, you're suppose to look classy Y/n', I remember him glaring at me in my room. Next it was about who was driving. He always insisted to drive every time we went out, promising me that he would let me drive his car home, spoiler alert, he never did. He always wanted to drive home. Insisting that he was fine to drive. Clutching the seatbelt and the door handle as he whipped his brand new BMW across the neighborhoods, begging, praying we got home safe.

We fought in my driveway, over which who was going to drive. Him or me. I told him he could even drive there, just please let me drive home. Somehow within the argument I gave in, letting him drive. He kissed my head and told me not to worry that he would let me drive home this time. I reluctantly smiled as we picked up each of our friends and drove them to the party.

Max used to push me on drinking, not anymore. He gave up early in our relationship. Along with most of the affection, unless he was drunk, then he was all over me. Especially when we went back to my house because my parents would let him stay the night. My parents loved Max. Sometimes I even questioned if they loved him more than they loved me. They told me all the time as I was growing up that they wished I was a boy. That I was suppose to be a boy. They stopped saying that when I turned 14 though. I guess they realized wishing that I was a boy everyday wouldn't magically make me wake up with a dick.

God they were assholes sometimes. They let me basically do anything I wanted, which I gets lonely after a while but you get used to it. I definitely was. Like I said, they were assholes. I think they started to semi-like me when I started dating Max. Which Max ate up. I was getting kind of tired of the way he was treating me. We fought almost the entire way to the party before I agreed to go to his hockey game next weekend that was three hours away, might I add. He couldn't understand why I wouldn't want to drive that far on a Saturday. He didn't understand that sitting home and reading sounded like a better plan to me.

The longer we argued, the more I wanted it to end. So I would ultimately give in after a while. I think Max started to catch on too, because he would never give in until I did. I've learned throughout my life that speaking up for yourself does nothing but cause trouble for yourself. Or at least that's what my mom always taught me. I'm starting to think that's true since I spent the entire rest of the car ride starting out the window, fighting tears.

Max kissed me before we walked into the party. Just a peck, as If to say, "I'm sorry for being such a dick". I smiled at him and we continued into the party.

That brings me here, absolutely annoyed and tired. Sydney walked over in my direction with her usual soft-pitying smile. She was my best friend, really sometimes the only person I could stand in my life. I smiled softly towards her direction.

"Hey babe" She said looking at me. I nodded at her. She sighed.

"If you want to go, I'm sure I could convince ash to let me take him home" She said looking down at me. I shook my head. I didn't want anyone else dealing with drunk Max. That wasn't a task I would put on my worst enemy really.

"It's okay I don't mind. I'm sure he'll want to leave soon" I said softly. She sighed and looked down at her drink.

"Let's try and find him, I'll ask" She said motioning me over to the main living room. I followed her through the crowd.

"It's really fine Sydney, It will just make Max mad if he knows I want to leave" I whispered to her as we approached Max and Cayden, Sydney's boyfriend. Max smiled down at me. His eyes lit up.

"Look! My beautiful girlfriend!" Max said wrapping his arms around the side of my waist and kissing my cheek. "You're so beautiful. Isn't she so beautiful?" Max asked looking over at Cayden who was talking to Sydney. I cringed as he squeezed me tightly against him. Yep, five minutes in and he's wasted. He looked over at Max and raised his eyebrows. His eyes trailed to me. He smiled at Max and shook him off before directing his attention back to his girlfriend.

I attempted to wiggle out of his grip but he squeezed me tighter against him. His lips found the side of my face as he kissed me. He started to nibble on my ear when I pushed his face away. We were in a room full of people. "Max come on" I groaned cringing away from him. "But you look so pretty, in that dress" He whispered. My face was turned away from him.

I was still pissed about our argument in the car. He was being a dick and I wasn't about to forget about that because he decided he's over it. Max kept his hands placed around my waist as he turned me to face him and pulled me against him. He smiled and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear.

"I hate when we fight" He pouted. I sighed and resisted myself from rolling my eyes. "Then don't cause fights" I said looking at him. His face fell flat. I could tell he wanted to push the subject, attempting to tell me that the fight was in fact not his fault, but mine, but I knew he wouldn't because I knew where this PDA was about to lead too. I looked up at him, smiling slightly. He just looked down at me, before lifting his hand off my waist and to my jaw propping it up before connecting his lips to mine.

I kissed him back briefly before parting as he attempted to push his tongue into my mouth. His eyebrows furrowed as I parted. I looked around. "We're in a room full of people" I mumbled looking around us. No one was really watching us but I still didn't like the idea. "Babe, no one is watching" He said moving his thumb across my jaw. I turned my head before locking eyes with someone across the room.

His hair was brown. His eyes were blue. He was wearing a t-shirt and somewhat bagging cargo pants. Completely and utter underdressed compared to everyone else in the party. I squinted my eyes at him. I recognized him. His name was Chris. He was standing next to a kid on Max's hockey team that I knew to be Nate. Neither ran with our crowd. I don't really know what they were doing here. He took the drink in his hand before taking a sip. What was he doing? Just standing there watching me, and he wasn't breaking the eye contact. I suddenly felt Max's hands that we on me a lot more than before and I felt my face go red.

Max grabbed my face and positioned it back to him. He bent down and kissed below my ear before whispering something to me. "Can we go somewhere more private?" He said into my ear. There it is. I sighed before grabbing his arms and pushing them off me and stepping back from him. "Max, you're drunk. You know I'm not doing anything when you're drunk" I said crossing my arms over my chest. Max groaned and looked up.

"Babe, I've had two drinks. Two! Cayden-Tell her how many have I had?" Max said holding his hand out to Cayden, who looked pretty invested in whatever Sydney was whispering into his ear right now. Cayden looked up to Max and leaned up wiping the smile off his face. "Huh what? Oh! Right, no it's it's third at most" Cayden shook him off. Max's faced turned angry. "Second" He mumbled through gritted teeth. "Yeah, Whatever man" Cayden waved him off before grabbing Sydney's arm and walking towards the stairs. I watched them as they walked off.

Max turned towards me. "Second, third, forth, I don't care. Not while you're drinking" I said looking at him. He groaned and shook his head. "Oh my God, y/n-" He said shaking his head.

"Max!" Someone yelled from the kitchen. He sighed and then looked over in the direction of the the noise. He looked back down at me. "Don't move okay? I'll be back and you better still be here" He said pointing his finger at me as if I were a child. I huffed before he walked off towards the kitchen. I watched as he greeted other people that had just got there.

I looked up towards the ceiling, trying to calm my anger towards him down. I looked over to the same spot that the boy was staring at me from, but he was gone. I glanced around the room. I didn't see him anywhere. I pursed my lips as I stood in the room alone. I suddenly wondered why I was doing what I was told. Staying put. Fuck that. I walked across the room searching for anyone I knew. I found no one. I looked up at the ceiling.

Why did I do this to myself? I was miserable every time I came. Yet I always allowed Max to guilt trip me into going. I looked toward the back door that led to the backyard. I sighed and walked outside. Maybe some fresh air would do me some good. I stepped out of the door before closing it shut. I sighed breathing in the fresh air. It felt good. Not stuffy like inside. The noise of the party was now muffled.

I crossed my arms over my chest feeling the cold air come over me. It felt nice. I needed some space from Max before I absolutely blew up on him. Today was not the day to push my buttons, I wish the could just take the hint sometimes.

I walked over to the edge of the porch that was attached to the nice house. It was a pretty night. It wasn't cloudy so you could see all of the stars in the night. It was my favorite kind of night. Looking up at the stars made my problems feel so minuscule, and I loved it. Taking the attention off my own life for a second and looking at something bigger than myself. I let out a shaky breath as I looked up.

"Hey"

I jumped turning around, meeting the same blue eyes from earlier. I let out a breath clutching my chest. He scared the shit out of me. He smiled down at me. I noticed a lip ring that hung on the side of his mouth. I wondered if that hurt. Why would you pierce your mouth?

"What the hell are you doing sneaking up on people like that?" I breathed looking up at him, my hand still on my chest. He just looked down at me before bringing the cigarette that was in his hands up to his mouth. I waved the smoke out of my face as he blew it out. He just looked down at me.

"Those's kill you. You know?" I said motioning to the cigarette. He looked down at the cigarette and then at me, before turning and putting it up to his mouth again. I watched him as his lips wrapped around it and when he inhaled the end of it lit up and the the smoke he exhaled through his lips. I swallowed. He blew out the rest of the smoke before responding. His eyes glanced down to meet mine.

"A lot of things kill you. Might as well choose the one's that feel good" He said glancing down at me. I wanted to laugh at his statement. "That's stupid" I said shaking my head and looking down. He raised his eyebrows before throwing the cigarette down at our feet. I moved over away from it. He chuckled. I looked up at him.

"Don't worry princess, it's won't get on your designer shoes" He said shaking his head. My eyebrows furrowed. My shoes were expensive, but I didn't overly care about them. It was the way I was brought up. I was taught to care. So I do. What's wrong with that? I swallowed and looked forward not likely the energy between us.

"So where's your boyfriend?" He asked after a few seconds of silence between us. I felt a blush creep up my neck remembering that he witnessed that. I didn't want to be that girl who hooks up with her boyfriend in front of a bunch of people. I licked my lips and looked at my hands.

"I don't know. Inside?" I guessed. I didn't want to talk to him about Max. I didn't really want to talk to him at all period. I just wanted some fresh air. Some peace and quiet. I looked up at him, he was staring forward. Didn't look like he was going anywhere anytime soon. He lifted his eyebrows and put his hands in his pockets. I crossed my hands over my chest.

"Why were you watching me in there?" I suddenly asked. He chuckled. I hate when people did that. Laughed at things I said that weren't meant to be funny. It made me feel little. Max did it constantly. He sighed and looked down at me. "I just thought it was interesting" He mumbled. I scoffed. What was so interesting about me and Max?

"You thought what was interesting?" I asked meeting his gaze. He looked down at me, with a small smile on his lips. He shrugged. "That you weren't giving him what he wanted" He said looking back forwards. My eyebrows furrowed. How did he pick that up from the few seconds he looked at me? I suddenly felt very vulnerable in front of a boy I'd never talked to before. I felt like he knew me. Like he could read me.

"Feel like that doesn't happen a lot with your kind" He said. I turned towards him, starting to get angry of his demeanor. "My kind?" I asked. His face turned towards me and smiled as he realized that I didn't like that. It was like this was entertaining for him. To see me squirm.

"I'll have you know that Max and I's business is none of yours. And for you to sit here and attempt to belittle me, for what? Because you know I have money? I was just coming out for some air and some peace and quiet and you approached me. You didn't understand anything that you think you saw okay? Stop attempting to figure it out" I spat at him.

His face didn't change as I yelled. He just licked his lips and looked at me. His gaze held power. I felt it in my body the way he looked at me. So calm, yet overpowering. I just yelled at him and a smile still was on his face, vaguely.

"You done?" He asked raising his eyebrows. My eyebrows furrowed. I took a deep breath unfolding my arms. "Yeah" I breathed. I give in easily. I don't know why. It's just the way I'm wired. I think it comes from my parents. Or maybe from Max. I don't know. I just don't like fighting.

He nodded before reaching in his pocket and pulling out another cigarette and then grabbing a lighter and lighting the end. I just watched him as he did this as if we weren't in the middle of an argument. He breathed It in and blew out more smoke.

"How many of those do you smoke a day?" I asked furrowing my eyebrows at him. He finished his other one nearly 3 minutes ago. How could he already want another one? He dropped the hand the held his cigarette and he looked down at me. I swallowed.

"Why? Are you worried about my heath?" He smiled. I bit back a smile and looked down. I shrugged. "Maybe" I breathed. We both laughed and looked away. Silence fell between us.

"It was just nice seeing him not get what he wanted. Your boyfriend's kind of a dick" He said after a few seconds. I rolled my eyes. "So you are" I said back. He shrugged blowing out smoke. "True" He smiled. I smiled and shook my head. I should definitely not be smiling this much with another guy. I suddenly felt like I was doing something wrong. I felt like I should walk away, go back and find Max, but my feet weren't moving and my mouth wouldn't stop talking.

"Where's your friend?" I asked looking up at him. His eyebrows furrowed and then clarity hit his face. "You mean Nate?" He asked looking around. I nodded. He shrugged. "Lost him a few minutes ago when I went to smoke. He doesn't smoke" He said looking down at me. I smiled and nodded.

"Ah, sounds like Nate is the smarter one of you two" I said looking up at him. He raising one of his eyebrows and looked at me as he inhaled another round of smoke. "Is that what you think princess?" He asked quietly. Jesus Christ. I swallowed and looked away from him. Why can I hear his voice throughout my entire body? I hated it.

"Stop calling me that" I quickly said looking away from him. He didn't stop looking at me and I felt his gaze burn into the side of my head. I let out a shaky breath. He finally looked away humming. I suddenly hear the back door open.

"There you are! Geez, stop running away!"

We both turned around at the noise. I saw Sydney walking towards us and she grabbed my arm starting to pull me away from Chris. Her eyes shifted to Chris and looked him up and down before looking at me and giving me a confused look. I just stared at her with a blank expression feeling in my soul as if I had been caught doing something bad.

She didn't say anything as she continued to drag me away back towards the party. I turned and looked at Chris, who had an unreadable expression on his face as he watched me be physically dragged away. She pulled up back into the house and closed the door. She turned and faced me withe a furrowed expression.

"What were you doing?" She asked looking at me. My face turned red. "I just wanted some air" I said looking at her. She just looked at me for a second as if investigating my expression. She shrugged and then walked towards the steps. I quickly followed behind her. She started to walk up the steps and turned to face me.

"The boys are upstairs, I think they might want to leave soon" She said as we walked. I sighed of relief. Thank God. I felt like I've been here for ages. I nodded as we walked and finally made it up the steps. The room was very crowded, almost more crowded that downstairs. This house was absolutely huge, so there had be like 200 people here to make it feel this small.

I hated crowded places, even though I'm forced to go to huge events like this more often that the average person. I hated it, but it's what I had to do. With a last name like mine, you don't get by with skipping an event here or there. You have to attend every. single. one.

Sydney started to look around people looking for our boyfriends when I glanced around the room seeing two people getting to it on the other side of the room. I made a disgusted face and was going to by pass them when something caught my eye. I looked back at the two people.

Max was wearing that shirt.

I narrowed my eyes. The guy's back was to me but he had a girl pinned up against the wall, sucking on her face. Curly brown hair. The blue shirt. My fucking boyfriend. I gasped catching Sydney's attention. She turned towards me and looked where I was looking.

"Did you find them?" She asked scanning where I was looking when she suddenly made the same gasp as me. Anger rose in my system. Are you kidding me? I clenched the fists that were at my side and I felt anger rise up my neck. "Is that-" Sydney started to asked. She turned to look at me but my face was glued on the people. "Y/n-" She started to say but I turned and immediately bolted down the steps.

I don't think I've ever been so angry in my entire life. My face was pounding. I could hear it in my ears. I couldn't think. No thoughts were going through my head, but anger. The room got louder. It got blurrier. My fists were still clenched as I wanted to scream. I wanted to kill him. I made it down the steps. Sydney was quick to follow me.

"Y/n! Stop! Wait a second!" She yelled trying to follow me. How could he? I couldn't even think to be sad because of the amount of anger that was fogging my vision and my decision making. I didn't wait for her as I moved through the crowd of people. Did it suddenly get hot in here? I'm burning up. My jaw was clenched. I needed revenge. That was the only thing that my mind could think of. I didn't need planned revenge. I needed immediate fucking revenge.

I made it to the kitchen and placed my hands on the counter. Sydney followed me in. "Are you okay? What are you thinking? What do we do?" She asked a million questions at me. She was panicked I could tell. I just breathed heavily as I looked down at my feet. I looked back up and scanned the room, meeting the faces of others. Revenge. Revenge. Revenge.

"Y/n talk to me. What are you thinking?" She asked looking down at me. I turned to scan the room. My eyes met that backdoor. That boy. I picked my hands up off the counter, pushing myself up off of it. I hate him. I hate him. I could kill him. I set off towards the backdoor. Sydney quickly followed me. I opened the door violently and walked out.

Nate was now outside with Chris. Both of their eyes shot towards me as I walked outside. Chris raised his eyes at me. His gaze overtook me again as I walked towards him. "Party is inside Princess" He said looking at me, brushing me off. That comment would piss me off if I wasn't already clouded with anger towards someone else. Nate didn't say anything he just watched me as I walked up to Chris.

Chris looked down at me. Sydney stopped from a distance. I looked at his cigarette in his hand. I reached up, taking it out of his hands before bringing it up to my mouth. Chris just watched me.

Please lungs don't fail me, I swear I'll never do this again.

I inhaled slowly and softly letting the smoke run down my throat. I took the cigarette out of my mouth before blowing the smoke out of my mouth. By the grace of God, without coughing. He raised his eyebrows at me. I threw the cigarette down at my feet before stepping on it with my shoes. Not thinking in the moment of the repercussions of my $600 shoes.

I looked back up at him. He opened his mouth to say something but I reached up grabbing his front of his shirt with my hand and pulling him down to me. I connected our lips. I heard Sydney gasp. It took him a second to figure out what the hell was going on, as well as me. My lips froze for a second as well as his, but after half a second his lips overtook mine, kissing me back. My lips started moving again once they felt how good his lips felt.

I dropped my hand from his shirt and placed my hands on his face as we kissed. This was weird kissing someone other than Max. It felt different, it felt good. I felt his lip ring against my lips. The cold dark metal. It felt so good. That's why he has a lip ring.

I tugged on it softly with my teeth, making him breathe in slightly. I felt him swipe his tongue on my bottom lip and then into my mouth. I let him in as we kissed deeper. He tasted like cigarettes, alcohol, and bad decisions. It was an amazing combination. If two people weren't watching us make out right now, I would have allowed myself to moan, but I had already been publicly embarrassed enough for one night.

I felt his arm snake around my back pulling me against him. God this was good. This was so good. I smiled against him as we kissed. One of my hands went up into his hair.

"Y/n!" Kylie whispered sternly. I disconnected our lips, but we didn't move apart from each other. We both just stayed breathing heavily. Staring at each other, connected. He removed his arm from my back and I moved my hands from his hair, separating us. I looked over at Sydney who looked horrified at me.

"Alright then" Nate said looking at me.

I looked back, feeling myself start to turn red. "What was your name again?" I asked feeling myself go blank. My head was still spinning. He chuckled and looked at me smiling. "Chris" He breathed. I nodded before turning around and walking up Sydney. She stood frozen looking at me. I walked past her, grabbing her arm on my way, dragging her back inside. She stumbled behind me as we went inside.

"What-What was that?" She laughed looking at me. I let out a deep breath. I was no longer angry. Every angry though and emotion that was running through my veins left when my lips touched him. Like a breath of fresh air. I smiled at her. "Revenge" I smiled. She shook her head laughing.

My moment of clarity of happiness and calmness was shaken when I saw Max making his way over to me from across the room. Anger started to rise inside of my stomach again. I should just punch him. Not give him an excuse to explain himself. I felt myself get angrier the closer he got to me. His eyes met mine and he smiled. Smiled. How could he stand there and smile knowing what he just did? I'm going to kill him.

He finally made his way in front of me. "Hey, babe I was looking for you" He breathed, his dimples showing promptly through his smile. I clenched my fists and opened my mouth to scream at him. To humiliate him. To destroy him right here in front of everyone for what he just did to me, but I stopped. My eyes glanced down to his shirt.

A white shirt.

My face went pale. I looked up at him, unclenching my fist and guilt washing over my whole body my legs almost went numb. "Your-your shirt" I pointed at his shirt. His eyebrows furrowed and he looked down at his shirt. "What about it?" He laughed lightly at me. I looked over at Sydney who's expression was the same as mine. Horrified. I swallowed looking up at him.

"Wasn't it b-blue? You were w-wearing a blue shirt." I said looking at the shirt again, panicking. He looked down at his shirt and then back up at me. "Babe are you okay? Did you drink anything?" He chuckled placing his hand on my shoulder. Oh my God. Oh my God. I looked down and felt my heart beating out of my chest.

I just cheated on him.

I shook my head quickly and didn't look at him.

Suddenly one of Max's friends came stumbling up to us. His name was Mitch. He grabbed Max's shoulders attempting to stabilize himself. Max looked over at him laughing. "Dude where'd you put the other beers?" He slurred at him. I looked at him. Blue shirt. Curly brown hair. Fuck. I felt my heart drop. It was Mitch kissing that girl, not Max.

"The fridge dumbass" He laughed pushing him off towards the kitchen. Mitch smiled at him before looking over to me, waving. "Ms. Y/n" He nodded at me. Max pushed his chest. "Go. Stop gawking at my girlfriend" He said smiling shaking his head. Mitch laughed before turning and stumbling into the kitchen. I ran my hand through my hair, attempting to calm my heart rate that was quickening, fast.

"I'm ready to go if you are, I'll go grab your purse" He said bending down and kissing the top of my head. I didn't say anything as he moved past me and out of our view. I snapped my head towards Sydney. She walked forwards grabbing my arms and with wide eyes.

"S-Sydney I could have sworn-" I started shaking my head. She cut me off. "Shh. Shut up. Don't say anything. It didn't happen. Nothing happened, okay y/n? We went outside for air. That's it. It will be okay. You can't act like anything is wrong." She said shaking her head. I swallowed. My heart was pounding in my ears, I could barely even hear her. I felt tears brim to my eyes.

"Sydney, I just ch-" I started but she covered my mouth with her hand. She shook her head. "We will both forget this ever happened okay? Listen to me. Act like nothing is wrong. Like nothing is different" She said looking at me. I nodded as she removed her hand from my mouth. Max walked back over to us. I tried to compose myself. Push down my emotions to my stomach as he handed me my purse.

"Thank you" I smiled at him. He nodded and pulled me to him wrapping his arms around me. "Syd, Where's Cayden? Tell him were leaving" Max said motioning her towards the main room. She nodded and quickly walked away.

Max looked down at me. I smiled at him. Nothing is wrong. Nothing is eating me alive. I love you. We're dating. No one cheated. Everything is fine.

"I'm really drunk" He chuckled pressing his forehead against mine. I smiled at him, leaning up and connecting our lips. The lips that were just on another person's mouth. He pulled back and furrowed his eyebrows, moving his lips around. My face fell, my heart was beating out of my chest.

"Were you smoking?" He asked looking down at me. I swallowed and shook my head. "You taste like smoke" He said looking down at me, but not letting go of me. I shook my head. "You're just drunk Max" I said smiling through my pain. He shrugged before leaning down and connecting our lips again. I pulled away this time.

"You know that I love you right?" I whispered looking at him. His eyebrows furrowed and he nodded. I hope he doesn't think it's weird that I'm randomly telling him this. He sighed and pulled away. "You know just because we fight, it doesn't make me think that you don't love me" he said pulling me into him and wrapping me in a hug. The fight. Yes the fight. I'm saying this because of the fight.

"I love you too" He breathed. I sighed of relief. "I'm here!" Cayden announced himself as Sydney dragged him into the room. Max and I both laughed. Sydney looked more than annoyed. "I leave him alone for 5 minutes. How many shots does he take? Eight" She said shaking her head. I smiled and shook my head at the couple in front of us. Cayden leaned his head on Sydney's shoulder.

"I don't feel so good" Cayden said squeezing his eyes shut. Sydney's eyes snapped towards him and pushed him away slightly. "Do not puke on me I will literally break up with you" She said glaring at him, and we all knew she was serious. Cayden lunged forward, holding his stomach. Max and I stepped back. Sydney gasped and pushed him towards the backdoor. He tumbled over towards the door.

"Out! Out!" She yelled pushing him out of the door. Max followed quickly behind them and I was behind Max as we followed them out. I immediately regretted walking outside, completely forgetting Chris and Nate were still out there until I saw them.

Cayden ran towards the grass before emptying him stomach on the grass near Nate and Chris. My face went red as I looked at Chris. He looked towards Max and then at me. I immediately looked down, not making anymore eye contact. Guilt. Guilt. Guilt. Forming in a pit in my stomach.

"What the fuck?" Nate said turning his head and backing away from Cayden. Chris didn't move. His eyes glanced from me to Max. I swallowed. Please. Please. Please. Don't say anything. I secretly wished in my mind over and over.

Sydney walked over to Cayden rubbing his back. "You know I hate when you do this shit" She groaned at him, but I wasn't focused on the fact that Cayden might have alcohol poisoning. I was focused on Chris's eyes burning into mine. I stayed behind Max, hiding like a pathetic little girl who just got in trouble. Hiding from their parents.

Max noticed Chris staring at us, because I felt his body turn towards him. Please. Please. Please.

"What are you staring at freak?" Max spat. I'd like to think that Max wouldn't have been that harsh if he wasn't under the influence, but Chris was right. He was kind of a dick. It bothered me at first, it still bothers me now, but I stopped commenting on it knowing it only made him more angry and hostile. He says that he has to separate his status from others. That he has to show them their place. He didn't say that to me until after we started dating.

After we started to be known as Max and Y/n, Hastings and Labraut. Status and Status. After my parents fell in love with him and after I'd already been on his private jet with his entire family three times. If he had said it prior I would have never gone out with him. I was already in too deep. Our parents had already started picking out wedding venues. I couldn't say anything. I always bit my tongue for the sake of what seems to be the rest of my godforsaken life.

I squeezed my eyes shut, preparing for the worst outcome of this situation. I glanced up, Chris was looking at me. I didn't have the courage to shake my head, to beg him silently not to say anything, to mouth anything, to even look at him for more than three seconds. Chris looked towards Max, emotionless before turning towards Nate and motioning him towards the gate of the house.

Nate looked at me and shook his head before following Chris away. Sydney and Cayden weren't focused on the silent battle that almost ruined my relationship. Cayden was now down on his knees. "I feel like I'm dying" Cayden groaned. Sydney sat next to him. "We have to get him into the car" She said turning towards us.

I, still frozen, didn't move, didn't react. Max stepped forward and walked over to Cayden picking him up off the ground. Sydney took him from Max, wrapping Cayden's arm around her shoulders, carrying him. Max stepped back and looked at me.

He reached in his pocket before throwing me his keys. His keys. I caught them mid air and looked down at them before looking back up at him smiling. He smiled back at me. The one time he decides to be nice? Really? Tonight? Didn't even fight me on driving, and I just cheated on him. I swallowed looking down at the keys.

"You're gonna let me drive?" I mumbled looking at him. He smiled and walked over to me. "I promised you didn't I?" He said kissing the top of my head. Guilt. Guilt. Guilt. I nodded before looking at him. Max smiled before pulling me into him. Sydney stumbled over to us, while Cayden held on to her for dear life. "Walk please!" Sydney said from behind us. We both looked at her and then walked back through the door of the house.

We maneuvered through the crowed house before walking out of the front door towards the line of cars that filled the street. I saw Max's BMW parked a little ways down the street. I couldn't help myself from looking down both ends of the street looking for any sign of Chris. I looked both ways, but nothing. He was nowhere to be seen. He disappeared. I sighed of relief. I didn't realized I had stopped walking before I heard Max calling my name. I snapped my gaze towards him. Feeling as if I had gotten caught.

"What?" I asked quickly. He smiled before shaking his head. "Babe, unlock the car" He said motioning towards the car and Cayden who was now doubled over against the car, groaning. Sydeny sighed as she rubbed his back. I quickly walked over to them before unlocking the car.

"Dude, you puke in my car and I'm taking yours" Max said looking at Cayden before opening the passenger seat sliding in. Sydney opened the back door before shoving Cayden in, then following him. I swallowed and took a deep breath and sliding into the drivers seat.

heyoooo hope you absoluely loved the first part, tell me what you thought

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@rac00ns-are-c00l4 @miastromboli @secret-sturniolo @sturnsclutter @sturniolodreamz @paper-crab @chrisolivia4l @mwah0mwah @recklesssturniolo @ejswift @kitaysworld @meg-sturniolo @nickmillersn1gf @fr3shl0ve @adrianaturnedpretty @oversturn @ghostgurlswrld @flowerxbunnie @ilytrinsworld @lustfulslxt @kiarastromboli @gemofthenight @blahbel668 @haunted-headset @sturnybabes @bethsturn @d3adlyclassrat @sturnybabes @mattsbitch @chrisluvbot @nickenthusiast @sturniolossmut @biimpanicking @iloveneilperry @chalametbich @dsmja @bernardsleftbootycheek @lovingsturniolo @aoxash @idrkk-123 @gingerbreadgodofhyperdeath @babagurlrichey

#matt sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo smut #nicolas sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo #sturniolo triplets

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lululandd · 1 year

Text

content;

pairing: simon ‘ghost’ riley x f!reader

word count: 1177

warning: fluff, reader is into plants

notes: inspired by an instagram reel that @/myscprin sent (this fic is also on ao3)

summary: it started out with a stupid potted plant.

Soap had drunkenly bought him one and would not stop whinging until he actually took it home. The man also had the audacity to ask him how the plant is doing, weeks after.

“Fine.” He lied. They were probably browning on his balcony, in a worse condition than he last saw them. It was funny; exciting even, to water the first couple days, having something easy to take care of, but then he saw signs of it not going to make it and subsequently avoided them entirely. Closed his blinds so he doesn’t have to see them die for good measure. The work call came immediately after, and he’s glad he doesn’t have to see it again for a couple months. He can just use work as an excuse next time Soap asks about the dead plant and be done with it.

But it wasn’t done with. Work took eight months, and gathering the courage to just step out to be greeted with a dirty balcony and a dead plant took two weeks extra. But it wasn’t dead. It was thriving. He might be remembering wrong—which is rare for him—but he could’ve sworn the pots were actual terracotta instead of stone painted to look like terracotta. Its leaves are supposed to be brown, or yellow, but they’re now different shades of red, some even resembling wine. Confused, he went back in and kept the blinds closed, joking to himself that maybe it just disliked seeing him, and was better off left alone.

Or so he thought.

The next day he came back to the balcony only to be greeted by a wet patch of floor, and droplets of water on the leaves. It didn’t rain at all yesterday, so either there's a leak that landed right where his plant sits, or someone watered his plants for him. His suspicions landed on the apartment above his neighbour’s, since they’re the only one with an abundance of plants on their balcony. Even though they shared fire escape stairs, and could easily come down to his portion of the balcony, he doubted they would walk down the stairs every single day just to water his plants. So he wanted to see how they did it. Perhaps just hose it from afar? Since they did horribly miss his pot today, from the evidence of excess water on the floor.

How mistaken he was.

It was a weekend, and as soon as he woke up and got his tea and digestives, he sat with his blinds barely open and waited. And waited. And waited. And waited. Until he saw your figure, half covered by the curtains, waltzing right to his plant and watered it as if it was your own. You were there for at most two minutes before walking back upstairs and out of his line of sight.

This has to stop.

Quietly, he took the plant off the balcony and into the apartment, setting it down on an unoccupied dining chair. The plant might seem normal on the balcony, but indoors it looked out of place. It was as if his whole apartment felt smaller and devoid of colour as he stared at it.

Ghost was cleaning a shelf the next day when he heard a loud gasp outside. His reflexes got the better of him and opened the door to see the girl on her tippy toes looking down as if searching for something, and then turned back to look at him. They both stared at eachother like a deer in headlights, although in their heads they’re the deer and the other is the headlights.

Ghost was a deer for not taking good care of his plant, hiding it, and opening his balcony door in record time, and the girl was also a deer because she got caught going to someone else’s balcony to water said plant.

“Sorry, I—“ They both started at the same time.

“Oh, no, I’m sor—“ They started again.

The girl raised her free hand, “I’ll go first. I got scared that your plant fell or something. Sorry if I startled you.” As she said her gaze fell onto the plant in question sitting (unhappily) on the chair.

He looked back at it, “Brought it in to brighten up the place.” He lied. He didn’t even like it. He didn’t like it being indoors, making his already measly living quarters feel even more barren. For some reason her face brightened.

“I have some plants that are easy to take care of, if you want more? I have some that doesn’t need sunlight that much so you can put it in th—“

“No.” What in bloody fuck was she thinking. Did she forget why she watered it in the first place? Is she daft? “Thanks. I go on work trips often.”

To his confusion her face brightened even more. “I can take care of them while you’re away, if you’d let me?”

Oh.

He had fallen right into her trap. Dead fucking centre. If he perceived her as an enemy he’d kill her there and then. But no part of his instincts or his sharpened mind saw her as one. It was his ego talking.

“Nah. You fancy him?” He pointed at the plant.

She shook her head, “I have no more space at mine.”

He went back and reached for it. “Tell you what. I’ll put this boy right back out here. And you can have half of my space for your shit. Sounds good?”

Unfortunately for Ghost, the girl’s wide grin and sparkly doe eyes got burned in his mind for good.

“You mean it?”

“Yeah.”

Work called him to Iceland not a week later and he spent the next few months barely seeing the sun. The country lacked sunlight, which was good for clandestine missions, but he could feel it took a toll on his mental health. Those artificial UV lights made his body feel better but his mind longed for the real deal. So that's why as soon as he got home he opened his curtains to its fullest to bask him and his apartment in some warmth. It took him about fifteen minutes to process what he was seeing. The girl really did take half his space. The space that made him rearrange his apartment layout completely so he could sit down on any chair and still have a view of said space. She had filled it to the best of her abilities while still making way for him to walk onto. Different plants with leaves of varying colours and sizes sat on colourful pots. He spent one morning just sitting there with his tea, trying to spot silly little frog statues half hidden underneath the growth.

It had been a while since he felt something other than dread when he got home, it was the first time in his shitty little apartment that he felt a smile creeping up his face, and it was the first time in what seemed to be forever that he felt.. content.

part 2

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #call of duty imagines #call of duty #scuffed writing #it sucks when i love angst but can only write fluff

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starsandhughes · 1 year

Text

Penalty Box— Matthew Tkachuk Edition

SERIES MASTERLIST

yourusername

liked by matthew_tkachuk, _quinnhughes, and 9,156 others

yourusername welcome to my postgame penalty box show: panthers playoff hockey edition! the stars lost so i’m in full support of the rat— i mean matty t show! (i call matthew “matty t”) (since i was a freahman) (for those wondering)

matty t played a matthew tkachuk edition of a hat trick tonight— two misconducts and a goal! (peep the seventh side where he’s holding his stick, obviously showing off the one he just used to score to his team!) AND he broke his mouth guard, so he had to get a new one for the third, shot a rat to the boards that was thrown on the ice when he scored, got shoved into the knights’s net, and a got into a lil scrum! what a legend <3 (this autocorrected to leg day, but i fixed it!)

for those not counting: tonight, matty t got his third and fourth misconduct of the entire off season, and his second and third misconduct of this series! he has FOURTEEN total penalties of all types this off season! (rat) king shit!

me and quinny can’t wait to come see you play saturday! play very good for us! (and get into a fight for me please and thank you) and don’t murder stone! brady needs him for the wedding! and don’t get murdered! brady also needs you for the wedding!

i love you, matty t! ur my fav rat and i miss you❤️

tagged matthew_tkachuk

view all 191 comments

trevorzegras i’m not sure rat is a compliment

yourusername to him it is

matthew_tkachuk to me it is

yourusername see!

trevorzegras 🙄

user19 how did i not put together that y/n knows the tkachuks via quinn😭

yourusername wrong! i found him all by myself i’ve loved him from his london knights days!

_quinnhughes @/yourusername quit lying he was on the london knights the same time i was at ntdp which is WHEN YOU MET HIM

yourusername @_quinnhughes could you stfu and let me have my moment

matthew_tkachuk i miss and love you, too, lil mouse! we’ll get dinner when you two are here!

yourusername pst can i sleep over?

matthew_tkachuk i thought that was obvious

_quinnhughes @/matthew_tkachuk she needs constant reassurance she’s not intruding

matthew_tkachuk @/yourusername of course you can sleep over, lil mouse!

yourusername YAY

colecaufield @/yourusername you used to just show up and announce that you were staying in my room and suddenly you need permission?

yourusername @/colecaufield was your entire family there? didn’t think so. i respect chantal too much

user22 DO SISSY AND MATTHEW CALL EACH OTHER RAT AND MOUSE THAT’S SO CUTE

taryntkachuk i miss you, girly! i can’t wait to see you this weekend!

yourusername i can’t wait to shoo the boys away for gossip time

matthew_tkachuk @/yourusername you’re supposed to spend time with me

yourusername @/matthew_tkachuk don’t worry, rat! i’ll beat you in chel and then have gossip time <3

jackhughes hey remember when you fell over the couch because you were sending heart eyes to matthew freshman year?

yourusername hey remember when you died?

jackhughes i haven’t died???

yourusername not yet

trevorzegras @/yourusername what did we talk about?

yourusername @/trevorzegras that i can’t murder jack until after the wedding because you need him as a groomsman

trevorzegras @/yourusername there’s my sweet girl

jackhughes @/trevorzegras i’m not sure that classifies as “sweet”

trevorzegras @/jackhughes that’s the best i can offer

user12 let’s play “who’s y/n’s least favorite hughes?”

yourusername it’s still quinn

user47 at this point i’m going to assume sissy is friends with half the league

yourusername about 1/16th of the league, actually! i did the math myself

used82 I WANNA TALK ABOUT THE FOURTH PIC

lhughes_06 hey remember when you used to tell z you’d leave him for matty whenever he pissed you off?

trevorzegras hey remember when you died?

yourusername @/trevorzegras hey! don’t talk to your future step son/bother-in-law like that!

lhughes_06 @/trevorzegras yeah don’t talk to me like that, future step dad/brother-in-law!

yourusername hey remember when you died?

lhughes_06 i should’ve expected that

_quinnhughes @/lhughes_06 you walked right into that one

matthew_tkachuk i didn’t know about this one but i’m honored

yourusername @/matthew_tkachuk the statement still stands

trevorzegras @/yourusername stop giving me war flashbacks

barkovsasha i’m confused. do you want him to get misconducts or not?

yourusername you’re clearly new here

matthew_tkachuck the answer is both

yourusername i’m an enigma

matthew_tkachuk @/yourusername you’re something

user8 so much new sissy lore

_quinnhughes hey remember when you said that you’re rooting for matthew unless it’s panthers vs stars in the final and in that case “he can slip on a rat thrown on the ice and choke”

yourusername idk what you’re talking about i always support my friends

jackhughes i have it on video (you root for all of our downfalls against the stars)

yourusername @/jackhughes it’s a sin to lie, jacky boy (and i’ll continue to do so)

matthew_tkachuk @/yourusername you’re so sweet to me

yourusername @/matthew_tkachuk i know! i didn’t even wish you’d die🥰

trevorzegras @/matthew_tkachuk that’s big for her

#penalty box series #penalty box series: bonus editions #matthew tkachuk #matthew tkachuk imagine #matthew tkachuk fic #trevor zegras #trevor zegras x reader #quinn hughes #jack hughes #luke hughes #hockey imagine #quinn hughes imagine #trevor zegras imagine

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bitchin-beskar · 1 year

Note

Sorry shamless asking for another one. Only if you wanna answer.

Either 141 boys or Paz ( or all ) not quite thot.

Their proposal style.

💍

Happy weekend!

do I wanna answer????

you bet ur ass i do goddamn

I'll do a little proposal style for college!athlete!roommate!paz if ya'll want, but I'll answer this ask specifically for our 141 boys (plus alejandro and rudy bc ofc)

Task Force 141 + Alejandro Vargas & Rodolfo Parra and Proposal Style

Captain John Price

I hc that Price has a love of old things. I think he loves antiques, history, collectibles, etc. I think his flat is filled with memorabilia shit from WWI and WWII, classic novels he finds at garage sales and thrift book shops that are well worn and well loved, things with history and a past, things that mean something.

So, I think when he's going to propose, he's got the ring picked out, something he found in a pawn shop or thrift store, something that's old and beautiful, full of meaning and history. Of course, if it needs repairing, or new setting, he'll do what he needs to, make sure that it's clean and polished and that it suits you. He just likes sharing these little bits of history that have fascinated him for his entire life with you, and to put one of those little bits of history on your finger and swearing to love you for eternity? He loves it.

For reference, I imagine the ring Price finds looks something like this:

For the actual proposal, he's not going to make a big, public spectacle. He's always a little more uncomfortable in crowded places, due to his years as active military, he's a paranoid bastard by nature, and besides, this is supposed to be a happy, special occasion and something he wants to be fully engaged in, not distracted trying to analyze potential threats to your safety.

You're probably at home, in the flat you share with him. He'll make dinner, nothing super fancy, but a comfort meal that both of you love. It's not overly fancy or romantic, but it's thoughtful and sweet and everything that you love about him. He'd wanted to wait until after you'd both eaten, and were maybe cuddled up on the couch in front of the fire, but as he's putting the leftovers away, and you're elbow deep in sudsy water, rinsing the dishes, he finds he physically cannot wait a second longer.

He drops to a knee, the quiet utterance of your name barely heard over the rushing sink water, but you throw a "Yes, John?" over your shoulder. When he doesn't say anything, you turn to look and realise what's happening.

Of course, the two of you have talked about it before, after you'd been settled in a relationship for a few years, talking about the future and what you both wanted, but you'd had no idea when he was planning to propose, so the act itself is shock. You don't even shut off the water, falling to your own knees in front of him, hands fisting in the front of his shirt as you whisper "yes" against his mouth before you kiss him.

He reluctantly pulls away from your kiss, only to slide the ring onto your finger, before he pulls the both of you to your feet. Shutting off the water is the extent of the cleaning that you finish, deciding as you stumble to the bedroom that the rest of the dishes can wait until after the two of you have had some time to celebrate.

Lieutenant Simon 'Ghost' Riley

I think that for the longest time, Ghost truly believed he'd never marry. At first, it was just a matter of not having met anyone he'd want to spend the rest of his life with, but over time and missions, scars and torments, blood and secrets, Ghost decided that he'd never find someone who'd be able to love all of him, that he was only good for the harsh things in life, never the soft.

So, it's a huge surprise when he meets you and realises months into knowing you that he's fallen, and he's fallen hard. He meets you in the most mundane of places, like a coffee shop, an interaction that should just be a one off, but one that repeats with enough regularity that the cold, stone muscle that functions as his heart begins to beat faster with excitement at the anticipation of seeing you.

You remember him, greet him with a soft smile whenever you see him, never seeming to be put off by the fact that he never removes his balaclava. You'll ask him how he's doing, but you don't seem to mind that his answers are usually a fraction of the syllables. He's used to his size intimidating others, but you never seem to mind that he's roughly the size of a tank.

I think it's like pulling teeth to get him to admit his feelings, but when he finally does, the two of you fall into a relationship like you were built for each other. It's easy, far easier than the rest of his life, and for the first time, he finds himself dreading longer missions, because he's actually got someone to come home to.

That being said, I think when he proposes, it's not something planned. Maybe something happens at home, where you are, the danger not being something he'd thought to worry about. Maybe there was a robbery, maybe someone attacked your workplace with a gun, and when Ghost sees it on the news, because Johnny's there saying "Dinnae ya say somethin' 'bout ya girl workin' there, Ghost?", he panics.

Price gets him on the first flight home, and Ghost is bursting into your flat with an urgency he's not felt outside the battlefield, even though it's the dead of night and you're fast asleep in your bed. He doesn't miss a beat, shedding the worst of his tac gear and crawling onto the bed, wrapping his arms and legs around you even as you stir awake, burying his face in your neck as his heartbeat finally begins to slow.

You seem to know why he's here, why he's like this, because you don't say anything, just simply wrap your own arms around him, tugging off his mask and running your fingers through his sweaty, tousled hair. Your other hand presses in between his shoulder blades, dwarfed by the massive size of his torso, but still a grounding touch.

It takes him a long time to speak, longer than usual, and when he finally does, it's to whisper against your skin that he wants to marry you, like a sinner at confessional, begging absolution from the Priest of God.

You still underneath him, definitely not expecting that to be what he says, but it's like the dam has burst, and he can't seem to stop. He tells you about how scared he was when he'd heard, a fear he hasn't felt since he was young, unscarred and unknowing of the horrors of humanity. He'd known that you meant a lot to him, but the thought of losing you had shaken him more than he'd thought possible. He whispers that he can't give you much, he knows that, but he wants to give you his name, and a promise that he'll love you as best he can, for as long as he's got on this earth.

Your body is shaking under him, and he starts to pull back, worried he's crossed a line, but you're sobbing, silent and desperate, even as you tug him up and seal your lips against his. He sinks into your kiss, tears he's been holding back finally falling too. You whisper back that yes, yes dammit you want to marry him, and you don't care about him giving you anything other than his love.

In the morning, the two of you go to a jewelry store, and pick out matching bands, simple silver rings with no gemstones or embellishments. You get them engraved, on the inside where the metal rests against your skin, his name on yours and your name on his, to carry each other when you're apart.

Sergeant John 'Soap' MacTavish

For Soap, I think he buys the ring within the first month of dating. Some (most) might call him eager, maybe childish in his hope, but Soap is an excellent judge of character. He's never once been wrong, his gut instinct always telling him the measure of those he meets, and so when he starts dating you, he knows very quickly that you're the one he's gonna spend the rest of his life with.

People tend to assume he's a fuckboy, likely due to his flirtatious tendencies. He knows what others think of him, and for the most part, it doesn't bother him. However, it takes him far longer than he'd like to convince you that he's actually interested, because of how flirtatious he can be, you think he's just like that with everyone.

Honestly, Price has to pull you aside and tell you to put the poor boy outta his misery by either going out with him, or not. You're very stunned, because it's honestly been torture for you to be around him because you're very into him, but were convinced that he just saw you as a friend. Price just shakes his head and calls you both muppets.

When you're together, it's the happiest the both of you have ever been. Your sense of humour compliments each others, you always have so much fun together, it's honestly the time of your life. You miss him terribly when he's gone, but Soap has a habit of leaving little slips of paper with jokes and puns written on them around the apartment, a little surprise for you to find and to remind you that he's always thinking of you when he's gone.

Soap's proposal happens somewhat spontaneously. He's come home from a long op, and the two of you haven't left the bed in damn near twenty-four hours. He's lounging on the pillows, with you tucked under his arm, ear over his heart and left hand resting on his bare chest. His own hand covers yours, his thumb stroking over the skin of your fourth finger, a habit he's picked up lately.

Finally, he pipes up, voice thick with his Scottish accent, and asks what you'd think about marryin' him.

At first, you think he's joking, because as much as you love him, you'd never really thought he might be the marrying type. He carries the air of a free spirit, one who operates best not tied to anything or anyone. You joke a bit about how he needs a ring at least before he thinks about proposing, only for him to reach over and open the drawer on his nightstand, pulling out a small velvet box and popping it open before your wide and startled eyes.

"Whaddya think, bonnie?" He husks, voice clear and nonchalant even as his eyes betray his nerves. "Think you'd be willin' ta tie yourself ta me for the rest 'o our lives?"

You pluck the gold band from the crushed velvet, slipping it onto your finger even as tears fill your eyes. You stare at it on your hand for a long moment, before you look up to see Soap still watching you, hope blooming desperately in his gaze, even as he tries to reign it in.

"You damn foolish scot," you mutter, cupping his face and bringing him down to kiss him. "There'll never been anyone else."

Sergeant Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick

Ok so maybe this is a hot take but I chose to believe that Gaz is actually already married by the time of COD: MWII. No one knows. Not even Price. He marries his childhood best friend the minute they're both 18, and they've been together even longer.

ANYWAYS

Like I said, childhood best friends, so they were always together, all throughout school, hanging out in the afternoons, sleepovers on weekends, the whole shebang. Your parents and his called it early on that the two of you would end up together, but even they were a little surprised at the speed of which you got married. But, to none of their surprise, your marriage was one of the strongest they'd ever seen.

You knew each other's faults, your likes and dislikes, your pet peeves and your favorite things about each other, it only made sense for you to trip over the line between friendship and relationship sometime around when you were maybe 12 years old.

Even before then, when the two of you were maybe 7 or 8, you made a pact that you'd get married as soon as you could. As a promise, Gaz gets you a ring like this, from a cheap coin vending machine in the local grocery store:

It's a running joke in the family, that he decided when he first saw you that he was gonna marry you, although they don't really realize just how true that is.

On the night of graduation, after you've finished celebrating with your families, you and Gaz are holed up in your childhood bedroom. Your 18th birthday is in a week, Gaz's was a month ago. Your wearing the ring he'd given you damn near a decade ago on a chain around your neck, and his eyes fall to where it lays nestled between your breasts, even as he draws a small box from his pocket.

"Figured it was time to upgrade, eh, love?"

The rose gold band sparkles in the lamplight, and there's a huge grin on your face as you take the band from him. There's a large diamond in the center, but not too large as to be gaudy or flashy. Just enough to make a statement, a declaration.

"In a week," Gaz says, voice hush with anticipation. "Lets go to the courthouse, and I'll give you the matching one. What'cha say?"

"The same thing I said when we were eight, Kyle," you murmur, eyes unable to leave the pretty ring on your finger. "Yes."

Colonel Alejandro Vargas

Alejandro is really damn hesitant to propose, mostly because of how at risk any of his family is with his history of fighting the cartel. Anyone with a connection to him is another way to hurt him, and to ask you to go into hiding, cut off most all contact with any outside friends? He's afraid, he doesn't want you to begin to regret being with him, he's seen the toll being in hiding has taken of the marriages of some of his Vaqueros, and it would kill him to lose you.

It takes you a long time to convince him that even if you don't get married, you're not going anywhere. You love him, and damn anyone who tries to come between that, cartel or otherwise.

The final push for Alejandro to propose is similar to Ghost's. He's working when he gets the news that the cartel has attacked the area you live in, and that there are multiple reported civilian deaths, although names aren't confirmed. He's terrified, and Rudy has to physically push him out of the compound to go, to try and get to you.

When he gets there, no one has seen you, and Alejandro can feel his stomach churning, his heart is in his throat. He was such a damn fool, he waited too long, and now he's never going to get to marry you, to call you his wife, to know what it feels like to wear a symbol of your love and devotion every day until he dies.

He hears your voice calling his name, and the pure relief he feels makes him dizzy with it, his knees going weak. He hoarsely calls your name, and your body slams into his, your arms wrapping tightly around him as if you could hold him together by pure will alone.

The rush of police and other Vaqueros around him fade into the background as he sinks into your embrace, whispering prayers and thanks and words of love in Spanish in your ear, kissing the top of your head repeatedly from where you've tucked your face against the base of his neck.

The next day, the two of you go to a small local jewelers, and pick out matching rings. Your next stop is the courthouse, with Rudy as your witness.

Sergeant Major Rodolfo 'Rudy' Parra

Like Gaz, Rudy gets married young. He marries you shortly before he and Alejandro enlist in the army, because you'd pinned him with a glare one day and said if he died and you were going to mourn as his widow, you damn well were going to be his wife first.

Alejandro is thrilled when he hears, because he'd been telling Rudy to marry you for weeks, ever since he'd aired his concerns. (Rudy retaliates viciously when Alejandro is hesitating to propose to his wife).

He proposes to you with the ring his mamá had been given by his father, which she'd given to him when he told her he was going to propose to you. She'd given it to her son with tears in her eyes and very softly told him that if he got married without her there, no one would find his body.

You laughed yourself silly when Rudy told you what his mamá said, although that laughter cut off when you realised which ring he was giving you. You broke down in his mother's arms later, swearing to her that you'd treasure her ring and love Rudy the same way his father had lover her, and she simply cupped your cheek and told you that was all she'd ever ask.

It wasn't a necessarily memorable proposal, Rudy just coming home one day after visiting his mamá and bending the knee, but you'd prefer it to anything else, because it was so quintessentially Rodolfo.

Interestingly, because Rudy is married through his time in the military, he doesn't know at first that it'd be wiser to keep it a secret. When they find out Valería is El Sin Nombre, he's not quite sure what to think, because she definitely knew about you, and who you were to Rudy, but she never acted on it. It's probably just another facet of the twisted mind games she plays, but he's not sure. He tries not to think about it.

#cod #cod bois #proposals #captain john price x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #alejandro vargas x reader #rodolfo rudy parra x reader #captain john price #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #alejandro vargas #rodolfo rudy parra #task force 141 #141 #cod:mw2

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hollysoda · 17 days

Text

Okay so I know that totk turned one year old a couple of days ago but I was away for the weekend and didn’t get a chance to post something about it. Now I’m home again, I think I wanna just put some thoughts down

Firstly, I still love totk. It was a really fun game and had just as much fun playing through it complete blind as I did playing botw with only a loose knowledge of the game. In fact, I enjoyed it more than botw. Maybe it was because I knew more about Zelda than what I did back in September 2022 when I first played botw, or maybe it was because I could see the improvements they made when it came to dungeons and overall exploration. For at least six months totk was my favourite zelda game. Now, a year on, it isn’t.

I think on reflection totk is a very flawed game. While it is technically genius, story-wise it’s incredibly weak, possibly the weakest in the entire franchise. Here are a few points worth mentioning:

Why bother bringing back Ganondorf if he isn’t going to have any real motive? Is there a reason why he’s fighting with Rauru and seeking his own secret stone, or is he just doing it for funsies? Part of the reason why Wind Waker Ganondorf is so good is because he has a strong and clear motive. Without any motive, totk Ganondorf just feels like an enemy rather than a main antagonist

The main thing that drives forward a story is a theme to take away from it. Breath of the Wild’s theme was exploration and lost memories, Skyward Sword’s theme was loyalty and/or devotion, but it’s hard to tell what totk’s theme is. Sacrifice could be the outstanding one, seeing as both Zelda and Rauru make crucial sacrifices for the sake of Hyrule, but where else is it seen in the story? Totk just tries too many things, and having a clear theme would just help to solidify things

For a game that was supposed to solve the mystery of who the Zonai were it sure did a poor job at doing so. I absolutely adore the Zonai and in my opinion Rauru and Mineru’s designs as some of the coolest in the entire franchise but my god. Their lore is so underdeveloped it hurts. We know the bare minimum about their civilisation and culture. We still don’t know why they died off, why they built the labyrinths (and by extension who the Lord of dragons/owls/boars are), why they have secret stones in the first place, why is the Temple of Time in the sky when it was originally on the ground and most importantly why is draconification a forbidden act. If you’re gonna imply that the three dragons introduced in botw were once people then tell us!! Totk deserved a dlc that could explain all of this and not leave us in the unknown

Saying that the Sheikah technology just “disappeared” is an absolutely awful way of saying “uh yeah we never thought about that”. That’s some god awful world-building and planning on the developers behalf. Even if they just said that after the Calamity it lost its magic and then parts of it were repurposed for new technology, like the Skyview towers, it would be so much more believable. The Divine Beasts should have at least been in the game somewhere, perhaps in the depths. The lack of Sheikah tech makes the game feel so disjointed from botw, and makes totk feel as though it’s only a sequel because it has the same characters in it

The ending of the game just doesn’t sit right with me. Why bother having Mineru beg Zelda not to swallow her secret stone if in the end she would be able to turn back into a human. I understand the developers want a happy ending but at least let there be consequences. Let Zelda’s memory be a bit hazy or give her dragon features like many artists have done and let Link permanently be an amputee

Also the Ancient Hero angers me. I’ve got no problems with him not being a hylian because honestly it makes it wayy more interesting knowing that not every hero was hylian, but just explain why. If he’s some sort of Zonai, why doesn’t he look like Rauru and Mineru? Is he some sort of hybrid or a different breed of Zonai? And why does the tapestry depict him as a hylian if he’s not? Seems like an oversight more than anything

I think I should stop there because this post is getting long but uh TL;DR totk could have been a phenomenal game if they spent more time planning out the storyline and fleshing out lore. I get it, the game was originally botw dlc, but after so many delays we at least deserved a better story.

I do still love this game though Tears of the Dragon goes HARD

#tears of the kingdom #totk #legend of zelda #legend of zelda tears of the kingdom #totk spoilers #tears of the kingdom spoilers #sorry for the long post I have thoughts #hollysoda speaks

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steves-strapcollection · 11 months

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WIP Weekend Accountability Pt. 1 of 3

So, for WIP weekend, I posted a poll about which of my Big WIPs I should focus on for the weekend and this was the result of that poll

I decided I would write for all 3 obviously, and post snippets with word counts based on the number of votes they got. Here are the snippet word counts:

ANYWAY TO THE FIRST SNIPPET

romcom!AU

It wasn’t like Steve was pressed for time, seeing as he had nine days left of what was supposed to be a romantic vacation with his girlfriend of seven years turned fiancée. Nine days until he returned home to an empty apartment, one that he had never lived in alone before. Nine days until he was back in a bed that he had only ever shared with Nancy, nine days until he was sleeping in the vibrant, loudly-patterned sheets Nancy bought because she thought Steve would like them. He did, very much so, but now the thought of climbing into them single made him feel sick.

Taking the little, white satin box out of his pocket, Steve placed it on the bar and stared at it. How did he fuck it up so badly? It wasn’t like he was just deciding to spring a proposal on Nancy out of nowhere, and it wasn’t like this vacation was a surprise either. This had been months in the planning.

The ring itself took months of shopping to pick the perfect one; a simple silver band, with the stone inset so it wouldn’t catch on anything when Nancy was working, with engraved vines along the flat surface. They had talked about their future, and Steve had said he saw her as part of it and she agreed. They had been together for six years at that point, they lived together for five of those. Steve had moved to New York with her for her career and everything.

When the opportunity came up, he and Nancy discussed it and what it would mean for them as a couple. Steve loved the school where he taught history back in Indiana, loved the students and they loved him. Leaving them was gut-wrenching, but the way he figured it, he could teach history anywhere, that amazing students existed everywhere. The kind of opportunity that Nancy made happen for herself was once-in-a-lifetime.

Plus, being in New York meant he was closer to his parents which was a nice bonus, even if that opened Steve up for his dad prodding him to leave teaching entirely again.

Teaching in New York was completely different than what Steve was used to, though. The classes were bigger, the funding somehow less, and the students were jaded. Steve still did his best by them, and he definitely believed he was making a difference, even if it was just with a handful of the kids, but he could feel himself plummeting to a burn-out within a year and a half of moving.

The kicker about all of it? The vacation had started as Nancy’s idea.

Tagging the buddies I think'll wanna see this the most: @patchworkgargoyle @scarcrossdlvrs @indigohightide @steddieas-shegoes @steve-harringtits @mylilplanet @afewproblems @xenon-demon @inairbinad @matchingbatbites @starryeyedjanai @sidekick-hero @stobinesque @spicysix @thefreakandthehair

#gerry wip #romcom!au #wip weekend accountability

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tellthemeerkatsitsfine · 3 months

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Was my mother's birthday today. Spent the weekend making her a video as a gift, today went to her friend's house after work for a birthday celebration. Tomorrow after work have to go perform ten minutes of stand-up for the first time (have previously only done six). Have a document full of ideas for stuff to try beyond my six minutes, just need to sit down and map out a plan. Had several hours to do that tonight. But also have to go this weekend to the junior and senior national championships that are being hosted in my city this year, a few years ago that would have meant months of hard work on my part, I've now stepped back from the sport so much that I wasn't even part of the prep, I just need to show up. There's the competition, and then also my first ever teammate/training partner, whom I started training with in 2005, has recently retired from competition, which doesn't normally warrant a national event but it does for her because she had a massive career that included a gold medal at the Rio Olympics, so on Friday they're doing a ceremony before the finals at the championship to honour her, and then a social at the bar after that of course I'm looking forward to because she lives across the country now so I haven't seen her in ages but I love her and want to be there to celebrate her, but also that event will be full of coaches and athletes and refs that I used to see all the time and now barely see, due to my stepping back from the sport, about which I feel very conflicted and find very emotionally difficult, so I'll just go confront that all weekend, partly at a bar, while I'm still trying to avoid drinking though to be honest I've slipped a few times in the last few weeks.

And these are the few hours that I was supposed to spend mapping out my stand-up set plan, but every time I look at the page I become overwhelmed with 1) the idea that I've happened to come up with a few funny things but everything else I might think of would be embarrassingly terrible, and 2) I did stuff on the weekend and then more stuff today and then there will be stuff tomorrow and then stuff Friday and then stuff all weekend and it's too much stuff and I can't think about any of it.

Thought of how John Robins occasionally explains that "If I have to think about four things at once I'll curl up in a corner instead of thinking about any of them and then tomorrow there will be five things." Decided to throw on the radio show to distract myself. I'm into March 2018, when John Robins is the middle of his large tour during which he filmed Darkness of Robins. The first few months of 2018 on that radio show is just documenting John Robins having a breakdown; at first he said he'd do dry January then says no because touring is too stressful, comes in tired and a bit sick one week then full on tonsillitis and can hardly talk then keeps getting sick with other things and explaining that he's not sleeping then turns up to an episode an hour late because he forgot it was happening, reports that he's lost a stone from stress, then takes a couple weeks off and gets replaced by James Acaster, comes back the next week with fresh anecdotes about having a cry in a hotel room, entirely because there were too many things going on and had to do too many things in a row. I was looking forward to getting to the era of this show when I find out what happens when you win a Perrier Award, and now I know. You significantly expand your tour at the beginning of the following year due to increased demand, and then have a breakdown due to increased having to do things on multiple days in a row.

This is the saga I jump back into as my distraction, listen to him explain how touring is still wildly stressing him out, and I thought, this sounds familiar except that I've been paralyzed by the stress of a ten-minute open mic set in a way that feels relatable when he discusses the stress of like a 68-date tour. Then I thought, to be fair, John Robins is not doing quite a stressful job all day involving constant human interaction. It's the constant human interaction. I need to not have that. I also need to have a better idea for stuff to say in a pub tomorrow. And preferably a brain that can think about four things at a time without short circuiting.

Also I have scratches all over my hands because a kid had a meltdown at work. He stood up, screamed, cried, hit himself, fucked up my hands, and then I played him some Lynn Miles and he very slowly calmed down. I tried to change the song but he used his very small verbal repertoire to say "play that again" so I just kept it on repeat. If you ever see someone have a meltdown, try this song:

youtube

Some scratches on my hand are not actually a big deal, I don't mind that. It's the look in his eyes when he does it. He doesn't want to hurt me. It's so clear that he's just truly desperate to make it stop and thinks tearing something apart might help and is willing to try anything. I'd let him do it as much as he wanted if 1) I thought it would actually help, and 2) it weren't very dangerous to teach a kid - a kid who will one day grow up to be a black man who has a disability that causes him to make strange noises and barely be able to communicate and not understand the rules and sometimes get uncontrollably upset in public, that it's okay to grab people and dig your nails in when you get upset. Our goal with his therapy is mainly to make sure he doesn't grow up to do the wrong thing to the wrong person in public and get badly hurt. I get very scared when I think what might happen if he's still responding to stress by grabbing people once he's too big to be cute.

See, you can't make jokes about that. Not in ten minutes, anyway. Maybe a highly emotional Edinburgh hour. But I can't make jokes about that, and everything funny that does happen at my job is protected by medical confidentiality anyway. It's not fair, other comedians have jobs with amusingly stupid clients and things like that. What am I supposed to talk about? I mean I've got a Word document but I'm looking at it and I don't think I've ever had a good idea in my entire life. And I still can't think about more than one thing at a time.

...New Taskmaster date's exciting though. Pretty hyped about that. Taskmaster! March 28! They've all gone big on costumes! Let's fucking go!

I am actually fine, by the way. I made some posts earlier in 2024 about how I was in mental health crisis, which was true then, I just want to clarify that I'm not in that now. I'm just overwhelmed because I've been asked to do more than like two things at a time and I possibly should start leaving some of my anxiety meds at my mother's house so I don't just skip the nights when I stay here. I'll feel a lot better after my set tomorrow. I had a stressful fucking week last week too, for reasons that have nothing to do with any of this, so that doesn't help. This is really making me remember why I hated university so much, though. I don't do well with homework.

#Youtube

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cthulhu-calling · 1 year

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Wedding Bells II

Wanda Maximoff x female!Reader

Summary : Your best friend is getting married. You’re beyond elated. And he asked you to be his best man. But there’s a catch. The maid of honour is the woman you were with for two years. The woman you were going to get down on one knee and ask to spend the rest of your life together. The woman who cheated on you, smashing your heart into millions of tiny pieces. Can you truly make it down the aisle with her on your arm?

Warnings : fluff, angst, cheating

Author’s Note : This story has elements of cheating, maybe a graphic description further down the road. The reader is female and has no particular race or body type so feel free to imagine yourself (though I write with woc in mind).

I spent a long time staring at pictures of Kathryn Hahn's face to figure out her eye colour (not that I truly mind) so y'all better appreciate my dedication.

Word Count : 1265

series masterlist

Preparations for the wedding are in full swing, but you have surprisingly little to do. You never realised that most of the work is taken over by the bride’s side. You’re thankful for it, you suppose. You’re kept in the loop, sure, but you never actively contribute. You’re glad, you couldn’t imagine having to interact with Wanda regularly. That one voicemail was enough to drive you up the fucking wall. You never did end up replying to it. You thought about it a lot though. Even found yourself going back and listening to it but the initial anger was replaced by something else. Something you didn’t want to dwell too long on or God forbid you act on those feelings. It was best to keep your distance until it was absolutely necessary or unavoidable for you to interact with her.

Bucky and Natasha’s engagement party was this weekend. You were as ready as you’d ever be. You’d gotten a brand new outfit, an emerald green jumpsuit with a halter neck and mostly open back. The colour looked beautiful on you and you had just the right heels to pair with it. You were going to get your hair done professionally the day before too, putting it up high so that you could really show off your outfit. You were leaving no stone unturned. There was only one problem : a date. You needed one ASAP. You could ask your friend from work, Carol, to come along. You knew how much Wanda despised her but Carol tends to get a bit handsy when she has a couple of drinks in her, as the entire office witnessed at the Christmas party last year. So, she was not an option. You need to find yourself a date, fast. Peggy had offered to introduce you to her cousin, Sharon, and you’d jumped on the idea. She was a total smokeshow, that woman. You’d met her before, at Peggy and Steve’s wedding but back then you had no idea she was into women. You were going out to meet her at your favourite bar downtown for a drink. Casual, laid back. Peggy had already told her you were looking for a date and she seemed fine with it so that was half your work already done for you.

That evening, you meet Sharon for a drink and you must admit, she’s just as gorgeous as you remember. She stands up to greet you, pulling you close for a hug and you can smell the sweet perfume on her. The shorts she’s wearing hug her figure amazingly and her top is low cut enough to give a teasing hint of cleavage. She’s pure seduction with legs that seem to go on for miles and perfectly styled blonde waves.

The date seemed to be going well but honestly, you found something off about her. You tried to push the feeling down, thinking it’s because you’re still kind of stuck on Wanda but no, it kept bubbling up to the surface. And for good reason too. Alarm bells started going off in your brain the moment she asked what your financial situation was like. You wanted to tell her it was none of her business, or make some dumb joke about how that was a more third date kind of line of questioning but instead you told her just what she was itching to hear. God, you wish you had a spine.

“It’s okay, I get by,” you shrug and the look of pure joy that takes over her face is blinding.

“How would you feel if I told you that I have a business opportunity for you that’s going to make you a lot of money?” she asks gleefully.

You should’ve ended the date then and there but your lack of a goddamn spine came through and you sat and listened to her whole spiel, telling her you were interested in selling nutritional supplements as a side hustle to make extra money and that you’d get back to her soon. She left pretty satisfied after that and it was safe to say that you hate yourself.

You were getting sick of this. Another failed first date. You plop yourself down on the bar stool and the bartender, and your friend, Agatha, greets you with a quirk of her perfectly plucked eyebrow.

“What was wrong with this one?” She asks, setting a tall glass of seven and seven in front of you, on the house, she says.

“Is it too much to ask to not get roped into an MLM recruitment on the first date? I mean, save that shit for the tenth date, at least,” you say as you take a rather large sip from your glass.

“It happens to,” she trails off before sighing, “Actually, it does not happen to all of us,” she finishes with a snort.

“I’m cursed,” you groan, sipping from the straw.

“You’re not cursed, you’re just special,” she says sympathetically, patting your hand before going to the other end of the bar to attend to another customer.

“So, who was she?” Agatha asks.

“Sharon. She’s my friend Peggy’s cousin. I didn’t even know she was into women,” you shrug.

“Hmm, maybe she was just trying to get a new member for her cult. What do they sell anyway?”

“Nutritional supplements or like gummies or something, I wasn’t listening,” you grumbel, biting the straw.

“Well, you need to wade through a sea of cheaters and recruiters to finally find the one. And you’re young, you have time,” she says. Agatha was older than you, by ten years at least. You were turning thirty this year and she seemed closer to forty, though you’d never ask her.

“Not really. I need a date for my friends Bucky and Nat’s wedding. My ex is gonna be there too,” you say, blowing bubbles into your drink.

“The one who cheated on you?” she asks, wiping down the counter.

“Yeah, and last I heard, she’s still with that old guy she cheated on me with,” you sigh, holding your head in your hands in despair. A warm hand encircles your wrist, making you look up. Agatha’s looking at you with a mischievous smile and you realise that you never noticed before just how pretty her eyes were. They were a pale grey and if you weren’t so close to her, one might even mistake them for blue.

“So, you need a date for this wedding to make your ex realise what she’s missing, right?” She’s outright smirking now, a twinkle to her eyes in mirth.

“Yeah, what are you suggesting?” you frown, confusion lacing your tone.

“I think I might have an idea of exactly who can help you,” she says and you must say, you’re intrigued. You’ve never heard her speak like this, so giddy, almost evil. She was easy going and while you weren’t extremely close to her, you knew her well enough to know she wouldn’t cause you any harm, not intentionally.

“Really? And who might that be? If you’re about to suggest a shrink, I have a rather colourful array of words to offer,” you squint your eyes at her, wondering where she’s going with this.

“Darling, no one short of the good Lord up above can help you but for this situation, I know who can,” she says as she lets go of your wrist, knowing that she has your full attention.

‘Well? Spit it out already,” you demand impatiently.

With a dramatic flourish of her hands, she says in a sultry tone “Me, darling, who else?”

#wanda maximoff x reader #angst #cheating #fluff #agatha harkness #sharon carter

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geminimoonbeamx · 2 years

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Reality Bites: Dazed & Confused (2/6)

A/N: I lived bitch. Whatever I got, was so bogus. I seriously thought I was going to perish. Anyway, thanks for being doll babies and wishing me well and waiting for this chapter. Love you guys! Also, if you want to read the companion to this story, stop by @allaboardthereadingrailroad page and catch up with Bean and Billy!

Warnings: Strong language. Smut, Oral- both male and female receiving, general teenage girl dread. Body shaming(fuck you Billy) Minors do not interact.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Plus Sized Reader

Summary: You’ve never gotten head. Steve’s dead set on changing that fact.

Chapter Two: He’s a Magic Man

Present Day

Oh no,

It’s your first thought, as soon as your eyes open. The early morning sunshine pouring in through the window, you'd forgotten to pull the blinds, and it illuminates the room with bright unforgiving light.

The sins from the previous night are lit up, undeniable in your bed.

Your bed, which is usually your happy place, your impenetrable fortress- has been penetrated.

Or maybe that was just you?

The culprit lies next to you, tangled in your strawberry print sheets. Snoring like he needs a C-Pap, you’ve never seen Steve look so disheveled. His hair is everywhere, fanned out against the pillow he rests on. Bowie, your fourteen-pound cat, is perched on his chest purring away.

It all feels very twilight zone, so domestic you can't wrap your head around it.

Ugh.

This is why you said no sleepovers.

Earlier

The mid-summer, Indianan heat is going to kill you, you’d spent eighteen rotations around the sun with that exact same thought.

Stifling and humid, the weathers unbearable.

Being outside would usually be a hard no, anything without air conditioning out of the question. But you promised to hang out with Heather.

Unfortunately.

It’s not like you don’t love your friend, because you do. It’s just that…Heathers always been high maintenance.

And she's been on your ass, upset about you missing the pool party a couple of weekends ago “It was so much fun, Y/N! I can't believe you missed it!”

That Saturday, you’d had a lot of fun of your own.

The night with Steve was still heavy on your mind. You’d deny it but it was. Always. A never-ending loop.

As an offering to your decade long friendship, you’d agreed to go get manicures. You’d have to grab her because in usual Heather fashion, she’d totaled another car.

Someone needed to take her license away, Hopper I’m looking at you.

Instead, she’d keep replacing vehicles. Number four’s lease already being drawn.

You might want to not throw stones, glass houses and all that. You’d just gotten the dent in your hood repaired.

“What did you hit? A cow?” The mechanic had drawled as he looked over the Jeep, frowning, confused at the damage. The dent is deep, your front grills are partially fucked, and the right headlight on its last leg.

“A dog” its unsure, you can hear it.

“You’re telling me a dog did this? No way- whatever did this had to be at least eighty-ninety pounds. At least”

What are you supposed to say? It was an alien, or maybe an unknown species that crawled out of the forest. A xenomorph?

All of it sounded insane, you sounded insane.

It was a fucking dog.

You crank the volume, Heart blaring from your speakers, loud enough to drown out your thoughts.

You're humming along to Magic Man as you pull into the lot of Hawkins Community Pool.

It’s the only place that seems to still be in business since the Mall opened, the entire rest town some haunted set of an Old Western.

Ew. Death. You're melting. You're nosferatu.

You're dramatic, Bean would tell you.

Does tell you often.

She's at work, your days off not aligning this week and its a bummer. You wonder if she's close to throttling anyone. Probably. Either that or her heads buried in another book about aliens or alternate universes or whatever. You hope it’s the former honestly.

She should be thinking about not killing coustimers. Or even better, she should be thinking about how to seduce Billy.

Listen, it's far from ideal.

Out of the entire town(and the surrounding ones that conjugate at the mall) she had to pick him.

You get it, in that he's hot. Obviously. You have eyes.

But he’s a fucking slime ball, a sleazy trailer park asshole from California, and as you walk through the front gates of the pool- your point is proven

There he is, Billy Hargrove. Sat atop the tall lifeguard. Being a douche.

He doesn't have to open his mouth, it's all in his narrow icy eyes. He always looks like he’s glaring.

You’d usually chalk that up to the intense sunshine, but nah. That's just him.

From beneath your big, round, tortoise shell sunglasses you watch the scene before you. The pool is chaos; artificially crystal blue and chalk full of squirming bodies. It’s loud full of screams of joy and splashes. Fun. A literal germ filled cesspool, but fun.

You follow a squealing water winged toddler make a beeline towards the lounge chairs with your eyes

It’s a rainbow of Tankinies. Of high cut one pieces and tacky visors, all colors and patterns converged into one big eyesore.

Ah, the moms.

You can recognize a few of them; Mrs. Marsh and her literal herd of kids. Miss Loudermilk, who yeah, she deserves that last name. And Mrs. Wheeler, mother to none other than Mike and Nancy.

Ew.

Double ew for the way she's staring at Billy, the way they all are. When he blows his whistle it looks like they're all going to blow their tops.

“Isn't it like, so gross” Heather comes from behind you, changed out of her bright red Guard uniform and into a green striped halter top. “They literally sit there all day just to watch him”

“It's more than gross, it's like uber pedophillic” You know your face is twisted in disgust because…didn't these women have children Billy's age?

“Right? And so desperate. Hags.” The tall brunette sticks her tongue out “But hiiiii” She hugs you tight around your neck, smelling of chlorine and banana boat “I’ve missed you! You're never around anymore!”

“I know, work” you blame the grind. It’s easier and half true.

“You sure you’re not just ditching us for your new boyfriend?”

“Shut up, Heather. He’s not my boyfriend, he’s not going to be my boyfriend. It was a one time thing. I already told you this like twenty times” and you had, over the phone a week ago. She’d squealed and asked for all the deetz.

Was he hung like Lisa said he was? Did he do that Cool tongue thing Tammi swore changed her life?

“Okay sure, we’ll see about that. You and Steve always did have that love you hate you thing going on-“

“Because he was an asshole. And no we didn’t have anything going on! We still don’t”

“I just wish you would have made your move when he was still like even semi socially relevant. King Steve is dead and buried now. I can’t believe he took a job where he has to dress up like a sailor, it’s so embarrassing. Like, where’s his sense of self respect?” Heather ignores your protests,

“King Steve was a stupid as shit nickname anyway. Tommy H just made it up because he didn’t know what to do with all the dick sucking homoerotic feelings he had about him”

“Speaking of dick sucking-“

“I didn’t, I literally told you everything that happened” you hiss at her.

“Yeah, I remember. Steve was fucking your brains out when you were supposed to be here partying with me” she glares at you, readjusting her duffle on her shoulder “It was so insane. Billy ditched us though, probably for that little twat Denise, you know. The one on the tennis team”

If gossiping was a sport, you would’ve won Olympic gold years ago. You love talking about other people; their messy dramas and exciting stories. It’s one of your favorite pastime.

You can totally believe that Billy’s still fucking High School girls. Yeah, totally.

What you can't believe is transpiring, right in front of your eyes. You keep sneaking glances at it as Heather jabbers away about the party, and Billy and how the Tennis Team is literally full of whores.

Not like that's new news at all.

No, what is new is unfolding, right across the pool. Right in front of everyone, so blatant you almost think it has to be a joke.

Billy…and Mrs. Wheeler?

Holy shit, you can't wait to tell Bean, how has no one noticed this yet?

You just hit the jackpot. Cha-Ching.

“It’s too hot to be alive out here, Heath, let’s go? Manicures remember. Look at my nail beds” You pout, holding up your hands because yes you need your nails done like yesterday.

But mostly because you'd gotten what you’d come for, there was no need to sit in the sweltering sun anymore.

“What, leaving without saying hello?”

Look, this is the thing.

You’d learnt to save face a long time ago- small town life was all about politicking. Who knows who. Who’s fucking who. And finally, and most importantly, who hangs out with who.

You have no idea how it happened and had protested it vehemently, but somehow; Billy Hargrove had infiltrated your social circle.

Which means you have to play nice, even though you think he’s a gutter rat. Or at least you had to- back in school.

“We have an appointment, and you seem distracted, with work” You plaster on a saccharine smile “I would’ve hated to break you out of the zone. So, hi and bye, Billy”

“Right? What if someone drowned?” Heather is all too eager to spark up a conversation and hell, didn't she get enough of him on her shift?

“Mmm, what if everyone lost their eye candy” It’s a taunt from you, to the trained ear “The horror”

“That's what I’m always saying, what did you do before I got here? Must've been a whole lot of cow tipping” Billy retorts, pulling a carton from the pockets of his trunks and plopping a cigarette between his lips. You really hate him

How can someone who looks like they haven't washed their hair in a month have the gull to come off so judgmental?

“Cow tipping?” Heather laughs “No I've never even heard of that”

“What about you, Y/N? You heard’ve of cow tipping? I think you’d like it” You don't like it, the way he looks you up and down. It makes you feel uncomfortable in your denim cut-offs and tied up white tee.

The freezing prickle of self-consciousness tingles down your spine, a stark contrast to the heat.

“No. Have you ever heard of a hairbrush?” You retort, because you’d be damned. Billy wasn't in the tax bracket to body shame you “I don't know if they have those in California, but they sure do here in Hawkins”

There's forced laughter, mostly from Heather who can sense just how tense this whole thing is. She's non-confrontational, always has been.

But you’re not.

“Why do I get the feeling you don't like me very much, Y/N? It’s never pleasant with you, why can't we just have a little fun? Be friends''

“I like you just fine, Billy-”

“Really? That why you like to squawk about me to everyone so much? Cause you like me?”

Deep breath, this is no biggie.

This is him, and why you’ve indeed never fuckin’ liked him.

He’s one of those sad little people that get off on getting under other people's skin. It’s his obvious motive and you aren't going to play into it.

But if he wants to verbally spar?

He’s got the right bitch.

“I don't know what you’re talking about?” Tone dripping with candy laced malice, you look up at him with big round eyes “Heather, do you know what he’s talking about? You should go get some shade, I think the suns getting to your head”

“No, not at-” She starts, doe eyes flicking between the two of you.

“You know, you're more boring than I thought you were. Everyone talks about how fun you are, but I just don't see it. I mean missing the pool party, fucking with losers. Where's the party girl? Cheerleader” He sneers down at you, eyes sharp, lips pulled up at the corners “Have a little fun, Y/N. I heard you’ve got the hookup”

This can go one of two ways. You can completely lose your shit. Throw a punch you know you won’t land, scream in his face. Make a scene…

Or, you can not call his bluff.

Bean, your best friend, is screwing him on the reg. You don't want to lose your image. There's too many people here, too much traffic.

“Sorry” you speak to him like he’s a child, he’s gum on your shoe “ You’re gonna have to find your own hook up, mines pretty paranoid. He doesn't like…” giving him a head to toe, you almost laugh. Who the fuck does he think he is? “New people”

New people. White trash. Same difference.

“Come on, Heather! Were going to be late!” With one last grin, peering over your sunglass slipped low on your nose so he can can get the full effect of your look. That look. The one that says you're not worth my time and you know it “You have a good rest of your day, Billy Bob”

Heather yanks you away, hissing “You’re so agro lately, Take like five chill pills, Y/N”

and you hear Billy's muttering behind you. Barely audible.

Fat Bitch,

And huh. Why does that sting so bad?

You ponder that, long after your nails gleam- red and lustrous. After you split from Heather.

And somehow, you ponder it all the way to the Mall.

You don't know why you're here, really. It’s your day off, so why are you pulling into an empty parking spot?

Starcourt didn't have that same glitzy appeal to you that it did to everyone else.

Not anymore.

Working behind the smoke and mirrors had killed that first initial excitement. You’d normally make that hour drive to Indianapolis when you needed your retail fix-

But you're not here to pour the money you’d earned within these walls back into them. Fuck that noise. You’re a woman on a mission, here for one thing and one thing only.

Bean.

You couldn't wait to tell her how much of a bitch Billy was. That literal mother-fucker. Oooh, just wait until she heard about all of this shit-

You make your way all the way up to Sam Goody’s, and yeah maybe you are a boring loser who goes into their workplace on their day off, only for Jimmy to tell you that Bean had cut out early. You’d missed her by an hour.

God damn it.

“We are short staffed now, if you wanted to pick up the rest of her shift”

Hah. As if.

The tip of your high ponytail nearly hits him right in the face, that’s how quick you’re booking out of there.

Boring, maybe? Certifiable, no. No way you're working on your day off.

You're trying not to be a total downer.

Yeah you're at the mall when you should be doing something Summer-y; like day drinking or sunbathing, but you're not really boring.

God, why are you even doubting yourself? Billys a Ken doll on steroids, a mutt that needs a leash. Who cares if he called you boring?

Fat bitch

Now that- that feels shit.

And not because it came from Billy, but because it had come from other people. So many other people. Your entire life.

You could be the most made-up version of yourself, glossed lips and shiny nails. Pressed hair. Okay grades. Popular. Cheerleader…you’ll still be the fat bitch. Its a fact you can’t unrun, that you can’t scrub off. Or cover up.

Fat.

Fuck up.

Stuck. Here in Hawkins forever.

You run your hand over your face, pushing your fluffy fringe off of your sweaty forehead, pin them back with your glasses. It all used to be so…easy.

It’s just a transitional period, baby. Youre not supposed to have anything figured out, your prefrontal cortex isn't fully developed yet, Elliot soothes as you have pre-mid life crisis’ during movie night.

You're going to go home, and get ready, even more then you already are and do something. Something fun. Something normal. It’s fucking Summer.

You're heading for the exit when you hear that tune.

The little flute melody mingling with the sugar sweet smell, an alluring mixture.

You peek, subtly into Scoops and yup. There he is.

Steve stands behind the ice cream counter, all charming smiles. A gaggle of girls around him, pointing at the glass, flirting so hard it's cringe worthy. Bleh.

You should leave. You hadn't spoken more than two sentences to Steve since that night. You avoided him, even when he came into the music Store- wanting advice on which Carly Simon album to buy his mom, a welcome home present.

One of the girls stands on her tip toes, her coin slot in clear view as she sticks out her tongue for him to put the little taste tester in her mouth.

You're propelling forward, cause, you know what? You could use some ice cream. You’ve been out in the heat all day after all.

And you know what else? You’ve always hated the little sluts on the Tennis Team.

You wait your turn in line, watch (glare) as the girls leave, whispering to each other because that was Steve Harrington.

Don't they know that he hasn't been socially relevant since like Junior year? Idiots.

He’s distracted, chatting with his co-worker. Him and Robin going back and forth. He doesn't notice you until you're at the counter, arms folded over your chest, tongue running along the inside of your teeth.

“Welcome to Scoops Ahoy, I’ll be your Cap- Oh, shit. Y/N” He gets caught in that cheesy slogan. Good.

“What you're not going to be my Captain to flavor town?” You inquire coyly, looking “I feel like i'm being jipped of the full experience”

It feels good to fluster Steve. He doesn't show it, but you can see it. It’s all too easy to get him hot under that navy blue sailor suit collar.

“I’ll be your captain, but I already know what you want. The usual? Pistash-Ahoy?” He does this cheesy little spin trick with his metal scooper and goes for the pastel green tub.

“Actually no. I’m feeling daring today. Can I get a single scoop Cherry Jubilee cone. Extra rainbow sprinkles”

“Huh, I didn’t strike you as a Cherries girl. Coming right up” He goes to work and you try to ignore how his forearms flex, he hadn't lost the muscle mass that came with all the sports.

“And I didn’t strike you as a cradle robber, but welp, you never really know a person” You accuse, and he shoots you a look as he shakes the rainbow sprinkles.

“What are you talking about- oh those girls? C’mon they were just having fun”

Your eyes roll, hard, as you dig through your bag, your wallet, pull out a five and trade it for the goods.

Except he doesn't make the trade “What, were you jealous?”

“No” you vehemently deny.

“I think I detect an edge of jealousy there, Y/N”

“I think you must have a brain tumor, Steve. Now give me my ice cream” You demand, hand out and grabby. The asshole chuckles as he gives you the cone.

“Nothing to be jealous about, you're not even into me. You’ve made that very clear these last couple weeks” He works the register as he speaks “Ignoring me? C’mon what are we? Fifth graders- and don't deny it. You know you were”

You shrug and take a lick of your ice cream, the sweet tart flavor exploding in your mouth “I’ve been busy”

“Sure”

“I have…but I’m not busy now”

You know how to play dirty. Aren’t afraid of a little grime.

You give him a look straight through your eyelashes as you twist your tongue around the frozen concoction.

Steve swallows hard, gaze tracking the movements of your mouth and you fight the smile that threatens to break across your face.

“What’d you have in mind?”

“You come over and…hang out”

“I’m off in an hour” His voice sounds tight and you wonder if his pants are too. If he’ll count down the minutes til he can blow this literal popsicle stand.

“Lucky for you, I’m not in a rush. I’ll wait for you in the court, Harrington. Thanks for the ice cream” You wipe the corner of your mouth with your ring finger before turning away.

And you know that hours going to really suck for him.

Hanging out with Steve turns into seeing just how bad you can make him squirm.

He’s on his back, legs hanging off the edge of your bed.

Yeah, your bed, you’d allowed him into your room which should be a big No-No but his parents are home(which what?) and Uncle Elliots shift ended early. You couldn't just strip down in the living room this time.

It’s okay, though.

You kind of like it, like the way he looks in your space. All that pale skin clashing against your sheets. Splayed out, one pink lemonade pillow pressed against his face.

He was being so loud, you’d had to take precautions.

You sit between his spread thighs, your knees digging into the hardwood of your bedroom floor. Which is far from comfortable, your calves had gone numb like five minutes ago, but worth it.

Worth it as he arches, the tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat. You gag but recover with a long bob of your head.

“Holy fuck” He drawls out the k as he throws the pillow, his face is flushed, his chest heaving. “How the fuck?” He’s out of it, a little slurry and yeah, you've still got it. Dick sucking is a skill. It’s a practiced expertise, and you know you're good at it. You’d been told.

You pull off, needing to take a breath. Not for lack of air, no. Because this shits heady. It’s making your head spin,the way he smells. His sounds. How his long fingers tangle in your hair, twist at the root, like they are right now.

“You okay?” He checks in and you look up, running your cheek along the length of him. His hips jerk hard.

“Are you?” You tease back, and you don't give him the time to respond.

You're good at this, well at least you hope you are. It’s easier then sex, more of a formula then a dance. Bob, gag, suck. The messier the better and when your fingers go for his balls he's a goner.

“Shit! Y/N-” He warns, he whines. You double down, not moving with his attempts to pull you away by the hair.

Fuck it, he must think, shoving your head down hard then, letting you have what you want.

Steve comes down your throat, you gag and swallow around it, breathing through your nostrils even though it’s pressed to his lower stomach, the hair there tickling your nose until you feel like you might sneeze.

Swallowing is unpleasant. Thats a given- the taste is earthy, too human and bitter for your liking, yet you let him run himself try and then give the cut tip a couple short sweet licks, teasing until he literally calls uncle.

“Come back up here, fuck”,

Hes panting, a sweaty mess. You appreciate how responsive he is.

The cuddles, well, you don't know how you feel about that. You lay next to him, head resting on his arm and he grabs you, basking in that afterglow, wanting you close.

You can’t help but watch him, his face. That small almost sedated smile.

Steve really is hot, always has been. His sloped nose and freckled cheekbones. Sharp jaw, pretty lips. You can’t help but stare at him, tracing all the dark dotted beauty marks.

“You like what you see?” He queries and you try to pull away, muttering a shut up.

He doesn't let you get far, not far at all before yanking you into a deep kiss.

You give a squeak of surprise because guys don't do that.

Your ex never did. He’d make you brush your teeth before he came anywhere near you after head- but Steve? Steve doesn't seem to care.

Weird.

The kiss is slow, but not lacking. Where frenzie supposed to be is just…want.

“Damn, now I have to wait for you to get it up again, huh?” You gasp, his lips against yours.

“Mmm, unfortunately. But I can help you out in the meantime, bud” his reassurance is paired with him turning you over, so you rest on your back, your legs spread all too eagerly to accommodate him when he crawls over you.

You’re expecting the kisses, the ones that trail down your neck, across your chest.

Steve Harrington is definitely a boob guy, so you've learned. You even forsee a little finger action, something to take care of you until he can get it up enough to fuck.

What you're not expecting is for him to keep going, his mouth sinking lower and lower, over your tummy which makes your eyes snap open.

Steve’s trying to shoulder his way between your thighs and in a moment of fear, you tighten them, closing the gap.

“What? What’s up?” He pants, obviously very into his task and confused on why it had been cut short.

“What are you doing?” You whisper urgently,

“Going down on you?” It’s not that he’s questioning you- it's more like he's questioning why you suddenly seem so off.

“You don't have to” You assure him, ready to pull him back up.

He doesn't have to…because no one ever has.

You’ve never- fuck. It’s just never happened. It always felt too exposing, not comfortable. You were unsure and most guys, all of the guys, had never pressed the issue.

“I really want to” He insists, tugging on the lime green lace of your underwear.

Oh. He really sounds like he does- want to. You don't know exactly what to do with that, your heart is both hammering and seizing in your chest.

“Um” you blow out a breath because this, this not in your ball park. “I dont really- the guys who i've been with haven't really done that. Much.” Because you refuse to tell Steve that this was your first time. Doing anything.

“Wow, you hook up with real losers, huh- ouch” He takes the slap to his head like a champ “I want to do this, but if you dont thats cool”

You're quiet as you think it over, perched on your elbows.

You're so glad the light is off. Happy for your belly and thighs to be partially hidden, blanketed in darkness. The moonlight peering in is just enough for you to see shadows and shapes.

And big, bright eager eyes.

“Okay” You decide.

“Yeah?” Steves teeth are white in the darkness, as he yanks down your panties “Good, because I really , really want to do this”

You think that pussy eating must be a honed skill, too.

You also think that Steve must've gotten a lot of practice over the years. He starts you off with fingers, a familiar feeling, one you can ease into. He's so good with them, how did he learn just how to hit that spot inside of you? You're panting, flat on your back, legs spread and wide hips wiggling for more when-

“Oh, fuck” you squeak as the flat of his tongue runs between your legs, over your slit, teasing your clit. It feels so new, scary still, but okay.

You're shuddery all over as Steve eats you out, gentle at first and then faster, more pointed. It seems to go on forever, and you know his jaws gotta be sore. It’s the strangest feeling. Messy. But so good, molten heat that spreads from your groin, to your belly, down your thighs.

Your thick thighs, that are wrapped almost vice like around his head. You’d wonder if he was breathing okay, if he didn't keep making those sounds. Encouraging ones, because he likes this. He wanted to do this.

When you feel that familiar tightening, again, fear springs from some unknown place. You don't know why, but you cry out, one hand still fisting his hair and the other grasping at his shoulders, his arms, anything.

“Steve” You beg, for what, you really don't know. It’s too much.

Oh, god, you're not going to like pee all over him, are you?

His fingertips dig into to the soft, pliant flesh of your thighs, where he holds you open. It’s reassuring, that slight hint of pain, of presence that has you literally spiraling- barley managing to reach for a pillow, before screeching into it as you seize.

Steve hugs your legs, holds you the whole way through.

Present Day

You hadnt meant to fall asleep, really. But after round two the both of you had given in. He’d offered to go, and you’d offered compromise in the form of a nap.

Somehow a nap had turned into a sleepover.

Oh no, he looks so peaceful. Pouting in his sleep, naked under your comforter, cuddling with Bowie. You should wake him up, make him get dressed and kick him out.

The clock on the bedside table reads 5:03 in glaring red.

Uncle Elliot didn't go into the Hospital until seven, but he was almost definitely awake downstairs.

It's the smartest move, you tell yourself as you roll over and get comfortable, your eyes still heavy and your bed so soft and warm.

You’ll just let him stay until Elliot leaves. Walk of shame avoided.

It’s cozy, all this body heat against the harsh central air. Your chilly freshly done toes, find Steve's leg under the covers.

You can't wake up Bowie anyway. Steve will just have to stay.

Just a couple more hours.

What could it hurt?

What did we think? Did we like? Let me know! Every ounce of feedback is highly appreciated Also- keep an eye out for a special filler drabble dropping later!

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x plus sized reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x plus size reader #steve harrington x you

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chickensarentcheap · 5 months

Note

:D I think I put too many, answer whatever you want lol

1, 3, 4 6, 7 9, 13, 14, 16, 17, 20, 21, 22

How do they celebrate their birthday?

Tyler always makes sure that Esme is spoiled! Mind you, not just on her birthday, but he tends to go even more overboard then lol. If it falls during the week, they wait until the weekend and start it off with the kids making her breakfast in bed and giving her a spa morning/afternoon. So a facial, massage and cupping, pedi and mani, sometimes something done with her hair. They will have friends over like Esme's sister and sister's girlfriend, Koen, Clover and Andy. So just a lot of relaxing and hanging around outdoors, dinner on the beach, cooked over an open fire. Her favourite cupcakes and a cake made by the kids. And he always takes her on a birthday trip, a week to one week away :)

3. What do they wear when they're just hanging out at home?

Esme is a lover of comfy things! Yoga pants or leggings if it's cooler outside, yoga shorts or denim shorts if it's hot as balls lol. A baggy t-shirt always. She adds a hoodie of Tyler's if it's chilly. And she ALWAYS wears a pair of her many Crocs outside lol.

4. What is their house like?

After all the renovations and additions, it's a modern farmhouse. Seven bedrooms, six bathrooms, a handful of out buildings, a small pool/house. A mix of elements really: wood, stone, siding on the outside, high ceilings with aged wood beams, granite counter tops. Something like this but with fieldstone mixed in:

6. What will always make them smile?

Definitely Tyler and his teasing, the way he'll ruffle her hair and sneak a kiss to her cheek or pat her bum when walking by her. And the kids' laughter and Addie's giggles and incessant chattering.

7. What will always make them cry?

Talking about the moments on the bridge in Dhaka or the baby she and Tyler lost in the third trimester. Between the twins and Declan.

9. Favourite book

She has so many she loves! Her fave of all time for sentimental reasons is Bridge to Terabithia.

13. Tattoos:

She has more than most people realize lol. She has a large peacock tattoo where the head is between the breasts and it goes down her stomach a bit and then onto her left cage and ending with a fanned out tail on her back. She has a little fox behind her left ear. A dragonfly on the side of her left ankle, a seahorse on the back of her right calf, and her and Tyler's initials and birthdates on the inner right bicep.

14. What was their first kiss like?

It was when she was fourteen and an older girl at school (just two years older) that was crushing on her, approached her in the hallway and just sort of pinned her against the lockers and kissed her. Totally consensual, mind you.

16. They find a genie and are granted three wishes. What would they wish for and why?

For all her children to happy and healthy for their entire lives. To take away the physical pain that Tyler struggles with every day, and the take away his mental health issues.

17. They're stranded on an island and can only bring four items and one companion. Who and what do they bring?

A good book to read, her journal and pen, a bottle of her favourite rose, a comfy blanket. And she'd choose Tyler over everyone and anyone :)

20. What kind of accent do they have?

I've never thought about it. Do people from Colorado have an accent? I suppose in the main series she may have picked up a slight Aussie accent.

21. What is their most prized possession?

Definitely that cheap leather bracelet Tyler bought her in the Dhaka. That thing has been through a lot and he's had to repair it several times and she refuses to part with it

22. Have they ever stolen anything?

Other than a few hearts along the way? ;). when she started her period as a pre-teen, she stole tampons and pads from a drug store because her mother was completely useless

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theseventhoffrostfall · 5 months

Note

I won't spoil Alan wake ii if you havent played it yet, but ngl while I dont think Kojima is bad at all, its really opening my eyes a bit. Sam Lake (real last name is finnish or a lovecraftian god) uses what he's inspired by way more integrated into his games. And the interplay of multiple forms of media including live action and music and, god help me for uttering this overused phrase, playing with the fourth wall, is something that makes Kojima look like simultaneously like an amateur and an elitist at the same time.

Let's say Kojima likes David Bowie. He'd have a character named David Bowie, Otacon would call in on the comms and say "Snake, that's david bowie. He's named after David Bowie the singer. He was a glam rock singer active from the late 1960s to 2016 most known for Ziggy Stardust" and the entire thing would be a thinly veiled excuse to hang out with David Bowie and put his likeness in the game and maybe release some haute couture sunglasses or something, while also namedropping extremely esoteric things Kojima can feel smart over knowing people will have to go to Wikipedia to understand the concepts he stayed up last weekend reading about. I cant really give an example for Alan Wake/Control like that entirely because everything is so worked in. Yeah its clearly Twin Peaks and X-Files and True Detective and a bit of that sparse Scandinavian Noir and some Lovecraft as well. But everything is blended together without coming to a screeching halt while you listen to the games creator tell you about the stuff he likes.

Not that I dislike MGS or anything, but in terms of "visionary" creators I think Sam Lake has just pulled ahead of Kojima in a really big way. He feels more like those TGWTG people who were only there as a stepping stone to their big hollywood career (which never panned out) and likewise Kojima treats his games more like the artsy movies he's always wanted to make instead of trying to be truly creative.

That's essentially the conclusion I've come to, yeah. Plus, Lake seems to embrace making games while Kojima seems to bitterly regret that he'd be laughed out of Hollywood.

Hell, MGS is supposed to be like an overblown, larger-than-life metaphor/representation of real, serious topics like nuclear proliferation and yadda yadda yadda. Except it gets muddled and stupid because the mechs that symbolize nuclear weapons are just dangerous for being nuclear launch platforms, because metaphors are hard. 30% of the earth's population was a child soldier who now wanders the land fighting for obscure philosophical reasons but shows little to none of the actual problems associated with former child soldiers, and 45% of all military personnel are clones or genetically engineered or turbocyborgs or something. Because this story that tries to touch on Very Serious Issues about soldiers and their place in the world was written in a country with pretty much 0 living combat veterans by a man who's never raised a fist in anger

#metal gear solid #alan wake

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bmodiwrites · 2 years

Note

So I have a little silly prompt 👉🏻👈🏻

Hopper catching Steve and Eddie smoking weed and making out at Lover’s Lake while he’s on patrol. Just think it would be so funny how embarrassed both Steve and Hopper would be and Eddie is smug but kinda nervous because weed and cops don’t mix

Yo, yes - I love this! Thanks for sending it in, I'm excited to see where this goes -

It starts like any other Saturday afternoon.

Steve made a deal with Robin a few weeks ago agreeing to take the Sunday shift in exchange for the whole day off on Saturday. They both get to spend a weekend day with their significant others and all is well, it's truly a great thing for everyone. Steve waits for the entire week to pass him by just to snag those 36 uninterrupted hours with Eddie when school lets out for the week and they're both free. The sight of Eddie driving his van towards the outskirts of Hawkins makes the five day wait absolutely worth it.

No matter what they ended up doing, their time always starts at Lover's Lake. Steve's not sure how that became their place but it is and there's nothing like the quiet privacy of the woods to jump start whatever they decide to do with each other. Eddie's easy with the weed he's supposed to be selling, providing them with a plethora of joints to work through while they make plans to go to a party or simply crack open beers and stay right where they are. Steve's found that it's fun to get stoned in the middle of the afternoon - time seems to slow down a little bit in the drug induced haze.

That particular day, Eddie opened up the back to flop down onto the blanket masterpiece Steve put together weeks ago. One too many nights on the hard seat backs made even his young back ache something fierce. It's been a marvelous addition - Steve thinks sex in the van is quickly becoming his favorite.

As Eddie settles in, Steve knows his boyfriend enough to recognize that they won't be moving from that spot for the rest of the night. Which is more than okay because the week's been hard and Steve's ready to unwind with Eddie in whatever way possible. He's hoping that tongues and naked skin will be involved - but they've got more than enough time for that.

Steve's content to pass the joint back and forth while they listen to Eddie's mixed tape when the day takes an odd turn. They're sharing the smoke in the guise of a shotgun that quickly turns into neither boy pulling away. It's so fucking intoxicating to lick into Eddie's mouth to find the lingering taste of smoke and beer that Steve's come to love very much. Never mind the fact that Eddie is a great kisser - his lips are plump and warm, enveloping Steve's so deliciously. Eddie's single minded focus when kissing is more than enough to distract Steve from everything around him - even the crackle of tires on the dry grass they're parked in.

As Steve is shifting his weight to straddle Eddie's lap, the all too familiar "whoop whoop" of a police siren stops him dead in his tracks. He looks at Eddie with wide eyes; the joint they were smoking is still lit in Eddie's grasp. Putting it out would be of no use - the entire van smelt like sweet stinky weed, not to mention Steve and Eddie themselves reeked of it. Steve tries to be quick and crawl out of Eddie's lap but there's no use - Sheriff Jim Hopper is standing menacingly in the space of the van's open doors, catching them in the act. A couple of them.

"Afternoon fellas," Jim says, looking awkwardly between Steve and Eddie. He's got gum in his mouth or something and the smacking is loud in the heavy silence. "Public indecency is a crime, you know." His disapproving look is one upped by the piece of Big Red in his mouth undermining each word. Steve's just high enough to have to hold a laugh back - the whole situation is surreal.

That's taken to the next level when Eddie shoots Hop a smirk and says "we close the doors" like they aren't in the worst situation possible. Steve's usually a fan of Eddie's humor but it's ill timed now. Except maybe it isn't because Hopper laughs sharply - the sound ricochets in the van, hurting Steve's ears.

Shaking his head, Steve tries to back track, to make up for Eddie's blunder. "Hop, we weren't looking for trouble." Steve's voice is scratchy from the hits he took before the sheriff decided to ruin their fun. He clears his throat, unsuccessfully being cool about it. It's obvious that Eddie is the only one enjoying the situation - his shit eating grin is infuriating (and devastatingly sexy).

"We got a noise complaint - when I heard the description of Munson's van, I thought I'd come investigate myself." Hopper looks regretful of that decision now that he's staring down boys he has dinner with at least once a week on top of each other. It's difficult for Steve to see the authoritarian when he's shared drunken nights with the town's protector.

Nonetheless, he appropriately hangs his head in shame, averting his eyes from Hop's gaze. If things weren't weird already, Steve climbing off of Eddie's thighs to turn the radio down kicks it up a notch. Eddie is casual about the way he stares at Steve's ass and Hop's throat clear is pointed. "Put that damn thing out," Hopper says, pointing at Eddie. "I outta take you boys in."

It's Eddie that's spluttering out "Hop no," in a pleading voice that's so deceptively sad that Steve wants to move the world to make it go away immediately. Luckily, Hopper is of a similar mind. At least, he's smart enough to know that Joyce will never let him hear the end of it if Steve and Eddie end up in jail.

"Find somewhere else to do this," he waves his hand between Steve and Eddie, wrinkling his nose, "at least for a while." Hopper pauses for a second, his demeanor changing. "And don't be late for dinner Monday - Joyce is finally letting me barbecue." His gaze on them is heavy for another moment before he shakes his head and walks back the same way he came.

Steve keeps his shit together just long enough to hear Hopper's door shut before laughter spills from him. It doesn't take Eddie long to join in, his face reddening as the hilarity of the situation settles in. They cackle like fiends for longer than either is willing to admit - despite taking on Vecna and monsters from beyond, it feels more satisfying to walk away scotch free now. Maybe it's the way Hopper just caved without a fight that's so funny. He's a big ball of goo when the hard shell is broken and they're lucky enough to be people who took part in hacking the damn thing to pieces.

As they pull themselves together and leave, Steve thinks about the grief Monday night's dinner is going to bring. It's exciting to know that Hopper's going to be on the receiving end of most of it. Their little family loves to poke the bear who's roar is loud as a distraction for its soft underbelly.

He suddenly can't wait to tell everyone the story.

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#steddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #eddie munson x steve harrington #steve x eddie #eddie x steve #steve/eddie #eddie/steve #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #bobbie writes #misc prompts #writing prompts

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alecsalamander · 4 months

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Lacey is nine years old when her best friend dies.

(Actually, Lacey is four years old when her best friend dies. She’s nine years old when she learns about it.)

(Actually, Lacey isn’t even born yet when her best friend dies. And then she’s four and five and six and seven and—)

Lacey is nine years old when she learns that her best friend has died.

She finds out on accident, of course, because theirs might be a family of no secrets now but she’s still just a kid and her dad still thinks he needs to protect her. It’s a school night, and she sneaks downstairs for a glass of milk because she’s accidentally brought her stuffed cat to life again – she didn’t think they would still be awake, or if they were, that they would be talking.

(Lacey is nine years old when her best friend dies, and when her dad and his best friend shatter into a jagged peace of sharing a home but no longer their lives, and they both still treat her exactly like they used to but they haven’t said a word to each other since… well, Since.)

“You’re probably not supposed to be drinking,” her dad says in his tired voice. His secrets voice. “This soon after a heart attack.”

Cat laughs. It’s not his weekend laugh, or his tea party laugh, or any other laugh she knows. It sounds mean. “It wouldn’t be the first time,” he drawls, and Lacey freezes on the stairs. She’s not supposed to be out of bed this late at night and she’s definitely not supposed to be listening, but the conversation is the first in so long and feels so terribly fragile that she knows if she interrupts them they might never have another one. “Besides,” he laughs again, mean and unfamiliar, “I was only a little bit dead.”

“Dead?”

She doesn’t mean to make a noise, but it comes out of her almost like her magics, like the powerful forces she also can’t control. Lacey might only be nine, but she knows what dead means – dead means gone, a body asleep with no chance of ever waking up. Dead means forever. Her parents were dead and that was why she had her dad now, she knows what dead means, and— “You were dead?”

Her dad looks soft and scared and a little bit horrified, and Cat looks healthy and whole and exactly like he did when he tucked her in a few hours ago. “Yeah,” he finally tells her, voice gentle like when he reads her chapters from the books that are still just a little too hard for her. “Yeah Elle, I was.”

She doesn’t understand. “When?”

He shrugs. “Yesterday, for just a few minutes. A couple of months before that. It’s—” She knows there’s alcohol in his glass because he hasn’t set it down on the table at all, holding it in his hand like he’s terrified of letting go, and she knows he does that because, like her dad, he thinks he needs to protect her. “It’s not as bad as it used to be.”

Dead means forever. Dead means like her parents, means like the shiny black stone they go to a few times a year, means like Bambi’s mom and Nemo’s mom and— “You’re lying.” She almost forgot what it sounded like, them lying to her.

His eyes are yellow and his skin is golden, and the hollow bruises under his eyes are purple and blue. Now that she knows what to look for, he doesn’t look entirely healthy. He also doesn’t look dead. “Not about this, Elle-Belle.”

She doesn’t know why she feels like crying. Grief and terror clog up her throat like the tears she knows are going to fall any second now, and she doesn’t even know why – Cat is alive and well and exactly where he should be, home with her, but somehow she feels like she’s also standing in a cold field at a shiny stone with a handful of flowers that say everything she doesn’t fully understand yet. She feels almost like she should miss him, or mourn him, and almost like it would make it easier for her to process this if he were actually gone, even just for a little while. “You died?” she asks again, because it’s one thing to know and another thing entirely to get it, and she doesn’t yet.

Maybe they do still need to protect her, even just a little, because it’s her dad who pulls her into a hug and not Cat. “He came back,” he tells her. “He always comes back.”

—

Lacey is twelve and Cat has died again. Or is dying, currently. She’s not entirely sure.

“Hey,” she gets home from school and goes up to her room, surprised to find him awake; he’d been maybe unconscious when she left, or maybe just resting, the lights off and the blinds drawn and she knew these were the ones he hated the most, the drawn out brain ones. “How’re you feeling?”

He laughs. It doesn’t sound mean but it doesn’t sound happy either; it sounds as rough and grey as his skin looks. “I feel like shit,” he tells her with a small quirk of his lips that would, on any other day, be one of his sly smiles that more often than not translated to ‘don’t tell your father about this.’ She gives a diluted smile in response, because she hasn’t been fascinated by bad words since she hit middle school and everyone started trying them out in the hallways between classes. “But better than I felt last night.”

He hadn’t been lucid enough last night to answer her questions. Those are the ones she hates the most too, the ones where he doesn’t know where he is or who they are for any length of time, the confusion or the hostility he lashes out with. She can never blame him, but she can also never tell him how much it scares her still, the rare moments where she looks at him and doesn’t see her best friend or her second father, but a stranger wearing his skin. Even worse is when he looks back at her and sees absolutely nothing at all – she’s grown more used to his bouts with illness or the times he brushes against death for any length of time, but she doesn’t think she can ever get used to the way that sometimes, very very rarely, whatever ailment takes hold this time is one that makes him forget that he loves her. She gets it now, why he just doesn’t bother coming home sometimes. “You die again or did you just need to sleep it off?”

Every time he dies, she gets ice cream.

“Sorry Brat,” he shifts to the edge of the mattress, Cecil protesting the move with an irritated yowl, to make room for her to stretch out beside him. They barely fit, now that she’s a gangly almost teen height, and she thinks that maybe this is the moment she can successfully argue her way into being allowed to redo her room like she’s been wanting. He doesn’t say if it’s for not dying, or for whatever he might have said to her last night – it doesn’t matter, because she forgives him for both.

She’ll forgive him for all of it, as long as he keeps coming back.

—

She’s sixteen and she knows her family is far from normal, but sometimes she forgets.

One of the seniors at her school dies in a drunk driving accident and it takes her an entire minute and a half to remember that he’s not going to come back, that he’s gone gone, and that somewhere out there is a body lying cold and broken in a dark room and a family that is grieving the hole that’s been ripped into their lives in a single instant. It’s not the loss that has her dry heaving, sobs that sound like she’s tearing her own heart out onto the bathroom floor – she hadn’t really known Aiden outside of having a few mutual friends of his mutual friends. It’s the fact that, for ninety odd seconds, she genuinely wondered why she should bother to care.

She’s sixteen and a boy has died and his family is broken from a loss they might never come back from, and it took her almost two minutes to realize that this was something serious. Objectively, she knows what death means. It’s just that, so many times, it’s meant something entirely different for her.

“I forgot,” she tells Cat when he finds her, drawn to her hiding spot on the bathroom tiles by some parental instinct that always knows when she needs protecting. She’s sixteen years old and she feels like a child, a much younger one, caught in a tide of inevitability that one day, any day really, her dad will be gone or her grandpa or her friends or— “That people can die.”

He doesn’t remind her that he can’t, and he doesn’t promise her that they won’t for quite some time – no more secrets.

Later, after he has held her close and let her cry, she feels very very young when she asks him. “They don’t come back, do they?”

—

She’s nineteen and she understands death, and she knows her dad always comes back.

And then, one day, he doesn’t.

#my writing #universe: witchhunters #lacey turner bishop #catalin shea #welcome to part one of cat’s deathday celebration #friendly reminder that he was only functionally immortal and not actually immortal

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