#george’s little shoulder taps to oscar

[mxstellatayte]

Thoughts on if the drivers would use toys ( and what kind) on themselves and their partners?

ok i could only come up with a mtl for this one so here we goooooooo!

nsfw under the cut <3 minors please do not interact!

🧡lando norris

oh my god this man is SUCH A WHOREEE. he's actually the first person to bring it up in your relationship, and he doesn't so much bring it up as it brings itself up. the two of you and some other drivers and their partners are out after monaco, and something seems off about him, but you don't realize exactly what it is until you're grinding your ass on him on the dance floor and he is very, very hard. when you ask what's going on, he can barely say it without moaning because every move of your hips against his, making his own move in turn, nudges the plug he'd put in before leaving just barely against his prostate. safe to say that later that night, lando was a whining mess, gripping the sheets and head thrown back while you fold him in half with the strap he'd bought a few weeks prior in hopes of this exact situation happening buried in his ass. (got a little carried away there OOPSIES)

🩶george russell

george is actually a bit of a wild card on this list. his preference for toys leans a bit more towards the pain and restraint side of them, but he doesn't mind the occasional plug or vibrator. his own kinks make their appearance when you run up to him after a good race, kiss him, and press your hands to his chest so he can set his hands on your hips the way he likes to. what you aren't expecting, though, is for the outside of your left hand to brush something hard and plastic and for george to *whimper* into the kiss. that slut had worn nipple clamps during the race. his personal favorite combination of toys is having his hands cuffed to the headboard, completely unable to fight you off as you have your merry way with him. (as long as he gets a pat on the head and a shoulder rub with his favorite body lotion and cuddles afterwards ofc <3)

🧡oscar piastri

oscar is the flip of a coin. he's more than happy to quickly tie your wrists together with his tie if you're being a brat at an event or take his time lacing together a beautiful, intricate shibari harness to keep you in place while he uses your mouth to get himself off. when he takes the time for shibari, he'll take a lot of photos of you, maybe even a few videos to use later when he's halfway across the globe. as for toys on himself, he mainly only goes for a simple fleshlight (or lando). surprisingly, one thing he enjoys is laying back blindfolded and letting you have your way with him, as long as you aren't too mean.

🩶lewis hamilton

lewis has a very "if you're down, i'm down" attitude about most things when it comes to sex. as long as the two of you are comfortable and enjoying it, he's game on for a lot of stuff! his hard nos when it comes to toys on himself and his partner are anything that could potentially put one of you in danger or anything even vaguely involving animals. the first time you two really start exploring the world of sex toys of all sorts, he's constantly checking in with you, making sure you're feeling good, and if you tap out at any point, the aftercare is amazing bc he feels bad </3

🩵logan sargeant

oh this man LOVES fucking and getting fucked, and if there's toys involved, he's even happier. i can imagine him sending you a new toy when a big event happens that he can't be there for, and, to make up for it, he buys it for you so that you can fuck over the phone that night. he absolutely loves watching you fuck yourself with anything- your fingers, a toy, even using him to get yourself off is hot as hell to him. i also can't get the thought of him tied up in shibari with a ball gag in his mouth as you tease the fuck out of him, fucking his ass with a dildo that might be bordering on too big and jerking him off slowly at the same time (bonus points if it's in front of a mirror so he can see what a mess of himself he's making 🫣)

💙daniel ricciardo

the first time you bring up the idea of toys with danny, youre both high on the beach outside cancun over winter break, talking about all the random things two high adults talk about, and the topic of him eating you out feels. you passingly mention how much you love it when he moans while he's attached to your clit, and the idea of getting you a vibrator sparks in his mind. when you're in bed that night, the high long gone, he asks you just that, and you're so close to sleep that, when you wake up the next morning, you aren't sure if you remember what happened properly the previous night. you did, in fact, remember correctly, and when you get back to australia, there's a package laying on your bed. "happy late christmas baby xx -danny" inside is a baby pink suction vibrator that you cum with three times, saving a voice memo and texting it to him after you're done catching your breath.

💛charles leclerc

this goes without saying, but charles is more than happy to spend hours between your legs if he could. he's such a pleasure dom that sometimes you have to pull him away from your clit by his hair, and fuck if that sight alone doesn't prep you for another hour of his tongue ravishing you, you don't know what will. his cheeks, lips, chin, even the tip of his nose are shiny with a mix of your cum and his saliva, his pupils are wide and his mouth hangs open, breath heavy and fanning against you so perfectly. when you being up the idea of using toys, he's over the moon. when he finds out the toys you had in mind are ones you can wear to ferrari events under your dress, the remote hiding perfectly in the pocket of his pants? shit, he's on neptune.

🩵alex albon

what is it with the williams drivers being sub leaning? alex is similar to lewis in having the "if you're down, i'm down" attitude, and he's just as focused on his partner's pleasure as he is his own. he's the first to bring it up in the relationship, asking (very very shyly) if you'd maybe possibly under no pressure whatsoever be willing to try pegging him, and when his eyes light up when you agree, you have a feeling toys are going to start being a semi-regular addition to your sex life. on the occasion that neither of you have any (or you simply don't have the time or effort), alex is more than willing to have you ride him or fuck you himself, because i do think that, if teased enough, alex will top purely out of spite.

💙yuki tsunkda

yuki's idea of toys is much more unconventional. it could be your pillow when the two of you are fucking over the phone, the armrest of the couch in his driver's room, or your favorite dildo or vibrator. he's honestly kinda cool with most stuff, as long as it makes you feel good and is safe. as for himself, his favorite is a cock ring around him while you ride him, so that way you're both getting the best of it while he can still hold on to your tits :D he also tied your wrists together one time with a ribbon from the gift he got you for your two year anniversary and he still keeps the ribbon in his nightstand to remind him of you on nights when he's especially lonely.

❤️max verstappen

really, really prefers to fuck you himself in whatever way he can. whether he's fucking you into the mattress with his dick or sending you to heaven with his tongue and fingers or making you ride his thigh because you were being a little brat, he just loves the feeling of your skin on his. if you're being especially bratty, though, he will not hesitate to make you fuck yourself but of course you won't get to cum... why would he let you do that when you've been a brat? no, it's nearing overstimulation and tears running down your face begging for him to let you cum from the toy before he even considers giving you the release of fucking you himself.

🩷pierre gasly

pierre is a fluffy little fluff boy. just. the actual sweetest in bed. he prefers to be able to feel you himself rather than adding a toy to the mix, but if you're just really, really turned on while you're not around and feel like messing with him you'll send him a video of you fucking yourself with your favorite toy and it gets him so riled up he has to stop whatever he's doing and run to the motorhome so he can deal with his boner lol

💛carlos sainz

carlos is a very hands-on guy. he doesn't really go for dedicated toys per se, leaning more towards shoving your panties in your mouth or tying your wrists together with his tie. sometimes he doesn't even need that, though- sometimes his hand is more than enough to cover your mouth or hold your wrists together if there's no other option.

🤍nico hülkenberg

like carlos, he's very hands-on with you. the only real "toys" he uses with you are blindfolds and ribbons to hold your wrists in place. one time, he tried handcuffing you to the bed but seeing the marks on your wrists scared him so he threw them away after that :((

drivers i think just wouldn't be into toys very much, if at all:

valtteri bottas, fernando alonso, zhou guanyu

intentionally excluded: checo, lance, kmag, ocon

[hiddenreamers]

I was in your music video - f1 drivers x singer!reader

SUMMARY: They say that if a poet loves you, they will write you into immortality. But if you date a musician, they might write you into the Billboard 100. Which is exactly what happens to your driver boyfriend.

Featuring: Lewis Hamilton, Lando Norris, Oscar Piastri, Carlos Sainz Jr, Max Verstappen, Charles Leclerc, George Russell

Note: Yes, two songs are sung by male artists. Yes, I'm going to ignore that fact and you should, too.

Lewis Hamilton

He's been in the room maybe five times. The space always felt strangely sacred to him - this is where you write, compose and practice songs with your band; this is where the magic, so to speak, happens. Walls are absolutely covered with tour posters, polaroids and printed-out articles. There's a large mirror that seems to be a message board considering all the sticky notes and words written with a marker. The only somewhat de-cluttered space is surrounding the setup. It's an unspoken testament to being a musician in a band.

There's a certain tension inside the driver. You've never asked him to listen to a song before it's finished. Sure, he has listened through your albums before they were officially released but it was always just that - a recording, not a live version. So what's different this time? Why is it vital he hears this song early?

Walking through the room, Lewis has to carefully watch where he's going. He doesn't want to accidentally break something by stepping on a cable or kicking a box with unknown contents. Inside a garage, he knows what not to touch but a recording studio and instruments are pretty much an unknown world to him.

Lewis is standing around a tad awkwardly, hands in pockets, when the bassist pushes a big black box closer to the driver.

"Have a seat." The musician points to the chest.

Lewis frowns. "On the box?" he asks, unsure. "Is that okay?"

"It's the Lucky Chest, Hamilton," the bassist announces. The other band members snicker at the title. "You have to sit on it."

"What's lucky about it?" Lewis inquires. More than the seating choice, he's interested in the reason for laughter.

"The first time we played at a big festival," the guitarist begins, her story slightly interrupted by her tuning the guitar, "we were sitting on it and listening to Green Day's stage, wondering 'how the fuck are we supposed to play after them?'."

"We were doing like a punk-rock tribute thing," adds the drummer. He's adjusting his seat and judging by the constant up-and-down movement, he can't make up his mind. The process is finally over when he reaches to tap the high-hat and nods to himself, content.

"After we finished our set," you take over retelling the story, "Billy Joe Armstrong came up to us and said we did great."

"So now it's the Lucky Chest," concludes the bassist.

Perhaps it's another testament to being a musician in a band when multiple people together tell one story without cutting details or creating chaos. A true harmony, though a joke a little on the nose.

"Well, I'm honoured," Lewis says. An airy giggle escapes him as he's still thinking about how easily teamwork comes to you and your band.

"You should be." The guitarist points her finger at him in a joking but accusatory way. Then she looks over her shoulder. "Whenever you're ready, drummer boy."

Music fills the room and Lewis is instantly captivated by you. He noticed it the first time he saw you on stage, how something inside you changes the moment you hear the instruments playing. Intensity, fire - passion in its most primal form. But this time around, the look in your eyes is different. You're no longer looking at the audience but him specifically; instead of singing a song, you seem to be telling him something.

So he listens.

I'm a desert, you're an ocean It's your motion that I need Without you I am broken, left to thirst out in the heat

And how strange he suddenly feels: all of the sentiments he already knows but now that you've put them into words for the whole world to hear, he can't help but find some revelation in them. For a moment, there's only the two of you and your confession of desire. Every word resonates with him and Lewis feels like he could say all of those things about you, too.

The song is far from over but he has already decided - he will listen to it before every race.

Lando Norris

Nothing seemed different about that day.

Lando is streaming while you're still at the studio. In an hour or so, you will come back, he will end the stream and the two of you will sit down to eat something. You will talk about your day, he will say something silly and both of you will laugh. Just like you always did.

To his credit, Lando couldn't have known about the song because you never told him. Some part of you thought it would be a bit dramatic to announce that you've written a song about him but can't play it yet because it's not finished. It would spoil the fun, wouldn't it? Therefore, you decided to tell Lando only after he listened to the final product. Perhaps you also wanted to seem a lot more nonchalant about the whole thing, planning on giving him just an off-hand comment of "oh, by the way, this one's about you". Life, however, rarely turns out the way we plan and that's exactly what happened that night.

If it was just one or two people calling Lando "honeybee" on the stream, he probably wouldn't even notice. But even he will pay attention when the comments are going on hundreds if not thousands.

He can't help but grow flustered at the pet name born out of his visceral fear of insects.

"Who told you that?!" he yells in a comically angry tone, a poor attempt at hiding embarrassment.

The comments come flooding again, explaining the situation only in variations of your name and the title Espresso. And like a detective following a crime, Lando immediately searches the internet.

"I feel lied to," he speaks up. "She didn't tell me she has a new song coming out. Why am I the last one to know? When I literally live with her? This is so unfair, I'm obviously the biggest fan, I should know first!"

Lando plays the music video. From the first line of "he's thinking about me every night", his bashfulness only gets worse. What starts as an excited smile, grows into a flustered, giggly mess. Although his pride is on the line, he can't deny any of the claims you make in the song. Yes, he couldn't sleep one night thinking about you and texted you about that. Yes, he does call you often even though he hates making phone calls. And yes, Lando Norris is, in fact, wrapped around your finger. What a horse is everyone can see and similarly, everyone can see and define who Lando is when it comes to his girlfriend:

"Simp?" he reads one of the comments. "Look, maybe I am but at the end of the day I'm dating her and you're not so who's the real loser here?"

Lando can only laugh his heart out when the chat gets flooded with identical comments: You.

"Okay, I admit. I'm down bad for my girlfriend and I'm proud of that."

Tomorrow's headlines are bound to be interesting...

Oscar Piastri

Although Oscar has seen you in musicals countless times, this situation feels a lot weirder and more uncomfortable. When he comes to watch your show, he's in the audience and you're on the stage. Now you're sitting side by side on the couch in your shared apartment, about to see your first movie. You're both the audience and the creator, which leaves you unsure how to act.

Unfortunately, your discomfort only grows. Oscar seems to be enjoying the movie but joy is not granted to you on this day. With each minute, you know your big part is coming. Oh God, what is he going to think?

Then, you suddenly pause the film. Oscar looks at you confused.

"There's something you need to know before you watch this scene and listen to the song," you say before he can ask you about your strange actions.

Oscar's frown only deepens. "You're making it sound really serious."

"Because it is. The thing is... " you hang your voice, unsure how to put words together. How do you tell someone this without making things awkward? "This is more embarrassing than I thought it would be but the song you're about to hear, I wrote it thinking about you."

He's trying to smile but the shadow of embarrassment on his face doesn't go unnoticed. You can only hope it's good kind of nervous.

The movie is resumed. As your discomfort is barely tolerable, you're looking away from the TV, fidgeting ever-so-slightly. Once or twice, you glance at Oscar, trying to see his reaction. The problem is, he's sitting unbelievably still. True, Oscar Piastri tends to be on the calmer side but right now it feels off. As if lost deep in thought, he appears to be diligently contemplating the scene in the movie; picking apart the words that came to your mind while thinking about him.

When the song comes to an end, you pause the film once more. A tense silence falls between you and Oscar, both longing to say something and yet neither willing to.

"So?" you begin hesitantly. "What do you think?"

Oscar shifts awkwardly. "Erm... I don't really know what to say."

A nervous giggle escapes your lips. "It's really sappy, I know." You try to downplay the situation, fearing that his reaction is born out of something negative. Does he think you're clingy? Obsessive? Too dramatic to handle?

"It's not that," he quickly denies. "Well, okay, it is kind of sappy but it's good sappy?" Oscar's tone raises slightly, revealing that he's unsure whether it's the right choice of words.

"Good sappy?" you repeat.

It feels as though woe has weaved a nest inside your viscera. "Good sappy" sounds like a lovely, diplomatic euphemism used not to hurt someone's feelings.

"Yeah, it's just..." Oscar doesn't finish his sentence. He runs his hand through his hair, then rubs the back of his neck nervously. Finally, he looks at you but not in a way you're familiar with. There's something ethereal in his gaze, a glint of inexplicable emotion that would escape a less observant eye. "It's really beautiful," he says. "The fact that you feel this way about me?" You could swear there are tears in his eyes as he lets out a flustered giggle. "I can die happy now."

Carlos Sainz

As old tradition entails, the Thursdays before a race weekend are meant for golfing. And who is Carlos Sainz to not give in to the custom?

He's sitting in his car, impatiently ploughing through the traffic of the city centre. Why are people out and about at this time, anyway? Shouldn't they be at work? Wanting to get his mind off of the fact that he's going to be quite late to the game, Carlos turns on the radio. The man is mindlessly skipping through the stations until something catches his attention - the announcer introduces you as today's guest.

"Hello again, pretty girl," Carlos says to himself. A small smile enters his face.

"First of all, I'd like to thank you," the radio host begins. "Unfinished Business is just the album I've been waiting for this year. And not only me! Have you seen Billboard 100 lately?"

Your flustered giggle is just as adorable as always. "Yesterday evening, I think?"

The broadcaster sighs dramatically. "Then you have ancient news. I have the site pulled up now and check it every few minutes. Let me tell you, Unfinished Business has climbed twenty spots since morning."

"Oh, shoot."

"Indeed." The announcer laughs and Carlos does with him. It's such a familiar theme for the driver - you being more humble than you really should be, surprised by the success you entirely deserve.

"Now, to address the elephant in the room or rather on the music charts. Over and Over Again is like a love letter all of us have written but never sent. Tell me all about it!"

"I guess 'love letter' is a pretty good description," you explain. Curious, Carlos turns up the volume. "For some time, I was trying to put my thoughts together and tell someone how I felt but never could quite do it. I can write good songs but in real life, I'm pretty terrible at speaking my mind and talking about feelings. I just don't want people to misunderstand, you know?"

"What are you saying, hermosa?" Carlos asks aloud, although there's no one to answer him.

"At least you can write a song about it! We regular folk are stuck with memes and playlists."

"Thank God, I can!" You laugh and, as embarrassing as it may sound, Carlos feels a sudden warmth spreading through his chest. "I was struggling with saying what I wanted to say to him, so at some point, I just decided I could put those words and feelings into a song. He likes to listen to the radio when he's driving so he might even be listening right now."

Although nothing bad or negative is going on, Carlos feels himself growing tense, nervous. There's no doubt the "he" you keep mentioning is him but what exactly is it you've been trying to tell him? Is there something he's missing?

"Did you tell him you've written a song about him?" the radio host asks.

"It might have slipped my mind," you answer coyly.

The announcer only laughs. "Oh dear, what a way to find out! Without further ado, let's hear your love letter to the mysterious man. I really hope he's listening to us right now. Don't you dare change the station, you lucky guy."

To his own surprise, Carlos recognizes the melody - you've been humming it for weeks now. But as you begin singing, the words leave him in disbelief. Do you really... mean all of that?

Carlos is lost in the song, feeling as though the lyrics aren't just lyrics but your genuine confession; a true love letter, as you have said yourself. He's brought back to reality only when the car behind him honks and Carlos is a hair's breadth away from picking a fight with the other driver. Nothing requires more haste or attention than his girlfriend exclaiming to the whole world that he will always be the one for her and that she will love him over and over again.

Charles Leclerc

You don't hear Charles coming in - you're too lost in your own thing to remember there's an entire world outside of the song and the piano in front of you. On the other hand, Charles doesn't announce his arrival as he doesn't want to disturb you. To be perfectly honest, he's a little too curious to interrupt you. It happens very rarely that you practise outside of the studio and so Charles doesn't really get to hear your more casual singing, not an embellished performance for the audience.

As quietly as he can, he makes his way towards you. Charles casually leans against the doorframe, your back turned to him as you continue playing the piano. He barely bites back the smile that creeps onto his face whenever you effortlessly sing the high notes - they are difficult for professionals and yet you execute them so cleanly, they appear almost too easy.

The lyrics haunt him but in a truly delicious way. A particular note of sincerity in your voice makes the words stick to him like rain does to a reckless passerby. Sure, they will slip away, although not before drenching him; their vital piece will forever lie with him.

When the song comes to an end, Charles (without thinking twice) gives you a hefty applause. The surprise makes you almost fall off the chair.

"Shit, you scared me!" you yell at him. It takes a couple deep breaths and your boyfriend's apologies, to collect yourself. "How much did you hear?"

He shrugs, suddenly realizing that he wasn't supposed to hear even one note of the song. "Pretty much all of it."

Your expression must not be joyful as Charles resumes his apologies and poor attempts at excuses. Suddenly, you cut him off. "How'd you like it?"

For a moment, he only hums and mindlessly knocks at the doorframe, looking for the right words.

"I loved it," he confesses. A strange tension in his voice proves he's telling the truth. "It's a beautiful song."

"Good," you answer absentmindedly. Quietly, you nod to yourself before looking back at Charles, a mischievous glint in your eyes. "It would really suck if you hated a song about yourself, you know?"

His eyes grow wide and Charles seems to forget about blinking for a good minute. Judging by the changes in his expression, you can tell the exact thought process he's experiencing: realizing you've written a song about him, joy caused by that, remembering the lyrics and finally taking them personally.

The more observant fans might notice a new addition to his helmet: "Claire de Lune" written in elegant lettering.

George Russell

Common sense might tell you that a race car driver must have no fear. And that would be correct, although quite imprecise. They must have no fear on track, yes, but daily life is quite different from racing, isn't it? Or maybe George is discovering a range of emotions he has not known before.

Your relationship is fresh but that isn't to say it's not serious. The weight of the connection the two of you share is a major part of the reason why George has been dead set on taking things slow. The other part is him knowing what media circus will play out once the news breaks. It's hard to blame him for wanting to keep at least some aspect of his life private, especially one that means so much to him.

As understanding as you are, George's apprehensiveness is tiring. You perfectly understand his reasoning and to some degree share the sentiment but at the same time, you are just somebody in love - you itch to scream it to the whole world. Or, at the very least, share a picture of the two of you. Both of you haven't been middle-schoolers for quite some time now, so why act like ones?

George, like the supportive boyfriend he is, loves to see you in your element. He watches the music videos, yet, but he much prefers the dance practice videos, where you're visibly enjoying each second of the choreography. Therefore, when you upload a new dance video for your song, he's probably the first person to play it.

It's a catchy tune that makes even the most boring people want to dance a little. With his head moving to the rhythm, George doesn't focus much on the lyrics until something in the second verse catches his attention:

So used to hiding We built our kingdom around The right timing

The lines, understandably, hit a little too close to home to be a pure coincidence. Now suspicious, George replays the video - this time, he's actually listening to the words instead of focusing on your dancing. Any hesitation that he's the true recipient of the song is gone with the first line of "Say you want me". The desperation in your voice is simply too candid to be just an act for the sake of the performance.

With the song loudly playing on a loop, George is scrolling through his phone's gallery in search of the best pictures of the two of you. He can't help but mouth the lyrics along with your singing, only to randomly giggle as the thought once again settles - it's about him.

Your phone can't stop vibrating. The notifications are coming nonstop. What on Earth happened? Upon opening Instagram, the mystery is solved. The internet seemed to be set on fire when George posted a series of pictures of the two of you with a caption that earned a giddy chuckle from you: "Setting us in motion".

Max Verstappen

Max and you both understand how much support can change. Sometimes just knowing that this other person is out there, watching and cheering, can change everything. As such, the two of you try to attend each other's events as much as you can. Unfortunately, the universe isn't always kind and you end up on the opposite ends of the world. The only support you can offer then is watching the live-streamed event - just like Max is doing right now.

He's sitting in his driver's room in Singapore, while you're at an award show in the USA. Quite the distance. There's something unbearably humbling about having to watch your performance like most of the world, when Max is, without a doubt, not most of the world.

In the back of his mind, Max is still thinking about the conversation he had with you earlier. Although he never misses your performances, you made it a point to tell him to watch this one. In your own words, he's supposed to look out for something fun, like a detail that will make this show different from the others. So as though he is a hawk, or more of a vulture, Max is hyperanalizing everything that's happening on the screen. He's not about to miss your little surprise.

The song begins and as much as he wants to enjoy watching you in your element, Max is a missile on a mission. Nothing specific seems to catch his eye but that t-shirt you're wearing...

Max knows it all too well. Theoretically, it's his t-shirt but considering you wear it more often than he does, it's practically yours. Now it's styled to fit the concept and image of your bandmates but the colour, the logo, the number, are all unmistakeable. Considering how much you're touching the article of clothing, compared to other dancers, he's convinced he's found what he was meant to look for.

Before he can wonder why you've chosen to wear his t-shirt for your performance, it's you who gives him the answer through the lyrics:

I feel like for the first time I am not faking Fingers on my buttons and now you're playing Master of anticipation, don't you keep it all to yourself

Max Verstappen doesn't get flustered but if he did, he'd be beyond flustered right now. The realization hits him like a derailed train - the song that everyone has been obsessed with through the summer and that has pretty obvious sexual lyrics is actually about him.

And if he did get flustered, the emotion would be rather short-lived, giving way to pride. After all, the core meaning of the song is that he's a generous lover, right? Clearly, he's been taking good care of his girlfriend.

Now, each sung line of "Just the touch of your love" makes Max all the more frustrated that the two of you are so far apart. He's earned his title of "Master of anticipation" and he intends to keep it.

[fastandcarlos]

When Another Driver Finds A Photo Of You As His Lock Screen : ̗̀➛ F1 Reaction

» Max Verstappen

He didn’t get the big deal about having you as his lock screen, but many of the other drivers were thrilled to see the photo. Max was particularly private about your relationship and shared very little with his fellow drivers, so just seeing you as his lock screen felt like something huge for them all. Max never let anyone look for too long, shielding his phone where he could, wanting to keep such a lovely photo of you for his eyes only. They tried their best to get a look, but Max was on the ball and always watching those who loved to tease him. 

» Lando Norris 

He was usually the one to make fun of everyone else, but when George found Lando’s phone background, it was him in the vulnerable spot for once. Lando was beyond embarrassed once a few of the drivers found out that he had you as his background and decided that they were going to give him a taste of his own medicine. Any little bit of gossip the boys got on you, they used against Lando, enjoying mocking him like they he did with them. For once, he had no argument either as the boys all made sure they got a good look at his lock screen. 

» Charles LeClerc 

He didn’t mind showing anyone his lock screen, once one of the drivers found it, Charles was showing it to everyone. He was excited to have you as his lock screen and to see you every time that he went on his phone and would brag about how lovely you looked whenever anyone saw the photo too. Carlos particularly got pretty fed up after a while with how often Charles tried to talk to him and show him the photo of you, but if there was one topic that Charles would never tire of talking about, then it was definitely you. 

» George Russell 

It didn’t take long for one driver to know, then another, and then another as knowledge about George’s lock screen spread around the paddock. Alex was the first to find it, the ultimate gossip, letting as many people know about what he had found as possible. George had a bit of a reputation at the best of times for being head over heels in love with you in the paddock, but the fact that you had a photo of you as his background, with a huge smile on your face too, just added fuel to the fire about all those lovesick rumours. 

» Oscar Piastri 

When Lando asked to borrow Oscar’s phone, Oscar didn’t really think much about it, that was until he heard a loud roar of laughter from across the room. “This is cute,” Lando grinned as he turned the phone around to show Oscar what he’d found, a photo of the two of you dressed in papaya. Oscar shrugged, pretending not to see what the big deal was, brushing it off as if it was nothing. Lando on the other hand couldn’t get enough of the fact that Oscar had you as his lock screen and planned on teasing him about it for quite some time too. 

» Carlos Sainz 

He was very careful about who was around him when he was on your phone as Carlos was incredibly shy about the fact that he had a photo of you as his background. It was a photo that was particularly significant to him from the last holiday you shared. During one meeting, Charles ended up catching the photo though, tapping Carlos on the shoulder as he looked questionably at the photo. Carlos immediately went coy as Charles let him know that he’d spotted it, knowing that when they were out of the meeting he would definitely probe Carlos further about it later. 

» Daniel Ricciardo 

Finding a photo of you as Daniel’s lock screen was an opportunity that some of the younger drivers were not going to miss out on in order to tease Daniel. Lando especially loved to make fun of Daniel whenever he saw the photo of you come up, knowing that you were a weakness for Daniel and jumping down his throat whenever he got a chance. He never quite knew what to say when he got teased by the boys, simply because he found himself incredibly flustered whenever anyone got a chance to see just how in love with you Daniel was. 

» Lewis Hamilton 

He had no shame in showing the other drivers the photo of you he had as the background on his phone. Lewis was beyond proud to tell everyone that you were his and usually would tell everyone about the background before anyone even asked, loving whenever he got the chance to share the story about it. “Look how beautiful she is,” Lewis would always tell people when they asked about it, placing his phone in front of them. He had a habit of shutting someone down before they even had the chance to try and tease him about the photo. 

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

[chilling-seavey]

Dreamland (ln4) - Epilouge

↳ A/N And finally, Lando's little fairytale will have its happily ever after...

↳ Pairings: Fanboy Lando Norris x Famous!Author!Fem!Reader (NO use of y/n), University Student Lando x Internet Friend George x Internet Friend Alex

↳ Word Count: 2.4k

↳ Warnings: NONE 

PART EIGHT

Two Years Later

The multi-story bookstore was nestled in the heart of Monte Carlo's most prominent shopping centre and the customers bustled about contently through the aisles and up the escalators like it was their second home. In the centre of the spacious atrium of the sizeable store, a few employees were finishing setting up a brand new display table with the filled cardboard boxes of new stock piled beside them. A few customers drifted by curiously to see what the most recent release was and the employees were happy to answer questions. On the other hand, a few well cultured customers lingered around the store just as a way to pass time until the display was ready. 

With an Exacto knife in hand, Oscar approached said table and slit open the tape that sealed one of the boxes, ordering the employees sternly but politely, “Time is running out. Let’s try and get as many of these on display as possible, as soon as possible, okay?” 

The underpaid employees nodded frantically and increased their speed to please him. He pulled out his phone and answered the incoming call with a huff and a half-stressed ‘hello’ that had Charles glancing at him as he rushed past.

Holding Max’s hand, Charles left Oscar to his own devices as they approached the display table themselves next and he reached for one of the books inside. It was heavy in his hand but he smiled at it proudly and tilted it side to side to watch how the hardcover sleeve shimmered in the artificial lighting of the store. 

He looked up at his boyfriend, “Well?”

“Beautiful work as always.” Max answered, leaning in to kiss his cheek. 

“My first time with one of my photographs on the cover of a book.” he said proudly. 

Max praised him without a second thought, “It’s what you deserve.” 

They shared a proper kiss and then Charles pulled the book to his chest, announcing, “I’m gonna keep this copy. I need to get it signed later tonight.” 

Max reached into the cardboard box for a copy of his own, agreeing to Charles’ idea himself, and they left the employees to their work. They crossed the book store’s atrium to the carpeted clearing of the main floor where a few bar tables were set up and covered with white tablecloths and little floral centerpieces. Along the windowed wall that looked out towards the street was a rectangular table of hors d'oeuvres and refreshments at which Alex and George were setting out cans of soda and arranging the plates and napkins just so. 

Sneaking up behind him, Max tapped George on the opposite shoulder so George turned his attention in the opposite direction, allowing Max to sneak his arm past him to grab a taste of one of the appetizers, undetected. Alex snorted in light amusement at Max’s slick move and Charles, with his hand in the crook of his boyfriend’s arm, guided him away with a smile. George looked back at Alex dumbly. 

“What was that?” he asked. 

Alex shrugged, “Ghost, maybe?”

George looked over his shoulder again. 

The sound of a camera shutter going off had the both of them turning the other way where Lily stood at the end of the table with Charles’ DSLR camera in hand. She snapped another photo and then sent them both a smile from behind the camera. 

“Smile!” she instructed. 

George put his arm around Alex’s shoulders and they broke into grins together to pose for another picture. 

“Beautiful.” Lily nodded once in approval, lowering the camera as she stepped around the table to join them, her eyes focused on the screen to skim through a few recent shots. 

“I know you are, but what am I?” Alex nudged her. 

She shot him a little unimpressed glare and nudged him back, answering quietly, “Incredibly breathtaking.” 

He dipped down to kiss her cheek with a cheesy grin that had her turning away from him bashfully, especially under George’s close presence and the way he stared at them with an amused smile. Alex just wrapped his arm around her back and pulled her close again despite her silent shy protests. 

“Does Charles know you took his camera?” Alex asked her.

“Not yet.” Lily chuckled. 

Changing the subject, George gestured to the neatly organized table of food as he asked her, “Do you like our spread?” 

“Yeah,” Lily nodded, raising the camera to take a haphazard picture of it, “It looks great.”

“Thanks.” Alex stretched dramatically, “Took a lot of work. Someone should write a book about it.”

George offered jokingly, “Hey, I have just the person in mind to do that for you!” 

Lily silence them with her hand up before pointing out the large display window directly in front of them that opened out to the bustling streets of Monte Carlo, “Look who’s back.” 

George and Alex broke into excited grins and the three of them drifted their eyes to the nearby double entry doors as they were opened and the last of their little group arrived into the air conditioned book store from the Monaco summer humidity.

Regardless of the twenty-something-degree weather outside, Lando still wore dress slacks with a button up tucked into them, the fabric neatly ironed and smooth but only getting wrinkled where the toddler sat on his hip. She wore a little dress and sparkly shoes that hugged her dangling stockinged feet on either side of his torso, although her entire body was almost completely taken over by the bouquet of pastel peonies she clutched in her little arms. 

“We made it!” Lando told her sweetly as he stepped over the threshold into the bookstore. 

She grinned at him, showing off her little gummy toothy smile that was half blocked by the cellophane wrap around the flowers in her arms. Just out the way of the door, he crouched down to set her on her feet and she whined softly and tried to climb back in his arms.

Lando’s gentle hand rested on her back as he spoke to her in the gentlest voice, crouched at her level, “Cuddles are for later, okay? We gotta go surprise Mommy with her pretty flowers now.”

With her fingers in her mouth, the toddler leaned into him casually as if to try and persuade him to pick her up again. He gently pulled her hand away from her mouth and then pointed across the bookstore to the other rectangular table donning a white table cloth that was set up nearby the display table. There, you stood as you arranged your few items among more of those cardboard boxes that seemed to fill the clearing space in the bookstore. She followed his finger. 

“See, look! There’s Mommy. Wanna go give her the flowers?”

The little girl smiled up at him again bashfully and reached her tiny hand for his larger one with a whispered, “Okay.”

Lando stood up from the ground and let her wrap her hand around his pinky to lead the way across the clearing. Although he was walking at a calm pace, she was tugging at his finger at an attempt at a run, her little brunette curls bouncing as she ran messily across the carpeted floor towards your table, half struggling to see past the bouquet. 

“Mama!” she called. 

Instantly, her voice had you looking up from your cue cards and your anxious expression settled into a tender grin and you stepped around the table to greet her. Lando could always feel his heart absolutely soar every time he saw you and your little girl together…he just held so much love in his heart for the both of you that it was almost unreal. Like he had always once dreamt of, your baby was the spitting image of you and he loved every second of it; now he had two beautiful things to stare at until the end of time. He thought himself to be so, so lucky.

“Flowers, Mama.” your daughter announced excitedly, offering out the bouquet to you and almost dropping it in the process while you crouched right down in front of her. 

“Oh, thank you, buttercup.” you kissed her chubby cheek when you took the flowers. “These are my favourites. How’d you know?”

Lando gave your daughter’s hand a little tug, “What else did we want to say to Mommy?”

She looked up at him and then back at you with an angelic smile, offering you a simple “congratulations” that was horribly butchered by her two-year-old vocabulary and pronunciation, but it was the cutest thing you had ever heard nonetheless. 

“Oh my!” you beamed with pride and pulled her close for more kisses to her cheek, “Thank you so much, my sweet girl.” 

She wrapped her arms around your neck and you gladly took that as incentive to lift her up onto your hip, much to her glee. With a toddler in one arm and a bouquet of your favourite flowers in your other, you met Lando halfway for a quick kiss and a quiet thank you to him too. 

“Did you get the Sharpies?” you asked. 

He held up the small white shopping bag to show you before placing it on your table, “Yep. Of course. Got the biggest package they had too because I am expecting hundreds of people flooding in here tonight and I don’t want you running out.”

“Thank you.” you sighed in relief through a smile that formed at his compliment. 

He kissed you once more before you were interrupted by Charles’ friendly call,

“Quick picture!” 

The three of you turned your attention to him as he walked over with his trusty camera in hand - stolen back from Lily - and Lando slid over to your side so you were all facing him. Lando wrapped his arm around your waist and set his other hand sweetly around your daughter who was perched on your hip and he gave her a little tickle. 

“Say ‘cheese’!” 

The toddler pulled the biggest smile and shouted “cheese!” across the echoey bookstore as loud as her little lungs could allow. You all laughed lightly - even Charles - as the picture was taken.

Max came over to join your little group, Alex approving the post with a statement of, “Instagram worthy, I think.”

“Definitely.” you agreed. 

“You haven’t even seen the picture.” Charles countered.

“If you took it, I already know it’s great.” you shrugged, earning an agreeable nod from Max. 

Your well-trained daughter agreed easily, “Yeah!”

Alex and George joined you too, easily drawn by the adorable little girl on your hip whom they swooned over together. And, knowing his job well, Oscar also came over and took your flowers from you to tuck them away safely before the event, exchanging them for your cue cards without needing to be asked. Lando glanced over your shoulder at the cards that you had been pining over for multiple weeks to make your speech perfect; pulling late nights in bed spent writing by the light of your bedside lamp or scribbling out lines in the passenger seat of his car on the way to toddler swim class. 

“All set for your big speech?” Charles asked. 

You scoffed, “Way to ease my nerves there, Charlie.”

Lando’s hand rubbed over your back, “You’ve done plenty of these. You make them look easy.” 

“Well this is my first one without being in that contract so it feels a little weird being so free with what I’m allowed to say.” you admitted. Your daughter rested her head down on your shoulder with her arms around your neck and you set your cheek on top of her little head, finding comfort in her. 

Max offered you a half cocky smile, “And now you have a much cooler manager.”

“Of course.” you agreed, just to make him feel better although you were wholeheartedly telling the truth. He had always acted like your confidant and your big brother in the industry anyway so having him as your informal manager after you got yourself out of your previous contract only made sense. 

“Your first book release as an independent artist.” Oscar gushed, “That’s an accomplishment.” 

“And it’s an autobiography at that.” you chuckled, “That’s so weird. Who am I?”

Lando replied without missing a beat, “A multi-talented author, that’s who.”

You shared another quick kiss that Charles managed to snap a picture of. 

Your little girl reached a tiny hand out for your cards but you moved them just out of her reach, distracting her with a kiss to her cheek instead. You then looked to Lando with a quiet request, “I wanna sign one for you first…before the event starts.”

He smiled warmly at you, “Okay. Now?”

You nodded. 

Your friends dispersed as there were still things left to finish setting up before the event and Lando took the toddler from you to give you hands free to fish a crisp copy of your book out of one of the cardboard boxes beside your signing table and you sat yourself down in front of it. Your Sharpie was uncapped and you flipped the hardcover book open to the first page, pausing to glance up at Lando standing on the opposite side of the table with your daughter in his arms. They both stared back at you with matching small smiles and the little girl dipped her head into Lando’s neck for a cuddle all while keeping her eyes on you. 

It reminded you of the day you met him not that long ago; just a shy boy from Bristol who’s only true passion in life were the worlds you created in your pages. Only three years earlier he had stood on the other side of a table from you in another Waterstones, similarly to how he was now, both of you clueless at the time of what lay in store for you. Now, there he was holding your daughter you had together and the life you were paving together, watching you prepare for your book release party for your autobiography that contained chapters upon chapters with his name in them. 

Sharing a loving smile with the fanboy from Bristol who managed to weasel his way into your heart in the most genuine way, you took a second to think of what you wanted to write to him. You might have been a published author but sometimes it was hard to figure out how to put your feelings towards him into words. 

Finally, you set the tip of the fresh black Sharpie to the page and began to write in your neat, experienced printing:

“To my Lando, my biggest fan and my most treasured inspiration, always, …”

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[noxexistant]

a compilation of my uksies notes thus far

(mostly organised and cleaned up, including notable covers)

16 april (ajh oscar)

oscar and morris are INCREDIBLY physical and practically always touching each other. lots of (pretty gentle) pushing and grabbing at each others hats and teasing each other, but they also rest with their arms around each other and sit very close together. they sort of cling to each others backs on a few occasions. clingy and comfortable with each other.

morris glances back guiltily after beating crutchie and leaving with the others while crutchie is taken to the refuge. he’s the only one who looks back.

oscar and morris essentially chainsmoke, and blow smoke in the newsies’ faces frequently to antagonise them. they throw their cigarettes on the ground when they’re done with them.

constantly fawning with wiesel - particularly oscar. they smile at him and oscar laughs when wiesel tells a joke. they back him up when he’s having conflict with the newsies, ready to follow orders. but oscar is tense around him and tries to keep morris away, usually puts himself closer to wiesel.

they’re truly not much bigger than the newsies, morris especially. he’s considerably shorter than davey, smaller than a lot of them. the fights seem much more evenly matched, and much more brutal, because of it. oscar and morris have baseball bats in the second fight, and swing them brutally.

one of them absolutely does not hesitate to throw les out of the way to get to jack to fight him.

physically affectionate with the scabs!!! they hug them. they jostle them to reassure them, almost like jack does with crutchie. they pull them close by an arm around the shoulder and kind of squeeze them before pushing them back out into the square. particularly tommy boy.

morris fidgets!!! a lot. taps his feet, bounces, pulls himself up by the slats above on the scaffolding/fire escape set to casually sit over the edge of the railing, with his legs dangling, and pulls himself up again to get back down. his hands are usually linked, he fidgets with his fingers by holding them and squeezing them.

oscar glances at morris when pulitzer threatens crutchie to jack, specifically when he refers to him as “the little crippled boy”.

when they’ve got jack against the wall before they drag him down to the basement, oscar hits him hard a few times, but then hands it over to morris who gives it to him. just absolutely beats on him, almost desperate, while oscar just kind of stands by watching.

they hugged so tight and george cried for most of the duration of bows.

25 may (george jack, jack bromage morris, rory oscar)

jack “honks” crutchie’s nose when he’s trying to cheer him up in santa fe prologue

when davey is wandering around the audience trying and failing to sell papes, an audience member offered to take one, so he snatched his pile back and choked out, “no, actually! not you.” like he got too anxious and panicked.

katherine sincerely finds jack’s flirting funny and has to try and suppress her laughter as she’s asking him to go away in the theatre

jack and race are BROTHERS. they’re rough with each other, jack shoves race off a lot when race is trying to convince him of something or bargain, but they hug tight in once and for all.

george’s jack feels young and full of life. he’s bright and mischievous and playful, definitely the newsies’ leader which is a role he fills very intentionally. he’s funny on purpose, rarely takes anything seriously, but he’s not particularly immature - he doesn’t whine like jeremy and michael do. he seems deeply, deeply sad - more sad than angry most of the time.

he’s a good fighter and unafraid of fighting - when he says the “newsies, get ‘em!” line before the big fight, it’s a pretty grim order, said rather than shouted, not big and loud and dramatic. he and davey immediately make eye contact and davey tries to bargain him out of the fight, reaching out to put a hand on his chest, visibly anxious. jack brushes him off and brushes past him easily and immediately, like the fight is an inevitability and he just wants to get into it. he does not care about himself.

everyone is violently protective of splasher. he’s the one who gets hit by the cop, and it’s after that that all hell truly breaks loose in the fight. also, splasher is wailing in pain after the hit and has to be all but carried away.

george sings santa fe like he’s actively having a panic attack.

jack is amazing with les. he picks him up a lot - more than is scripted - and is very physical with him, very affectionate.

jack is utterly heartbroken as he betrays everyone at the rally. he speaks like he can’t even stomach the words, and takes spot’s hit like he knows he deserves it. he doesn’t try to fight back or defend himself to anyone, he’s just crushed and hopeless.

spot and race chest bump.

matthew and george both play trauma fantastically. george’s jack goes directly into flight response when he sees snyder - he just runs. crutchie goes into freeze response when he sees snyder and seemingly dissociates.

25 june (morgan oscar)

oscar tossed a wet rag from the blackboard at morris, who flipped him off in response.

oscar stole morris’ hat and morris left the stage holding it rather than putting it back on.

morris climbs over one of the fire escape barriers like a ballerina - graceful, leg extended - and sits dangling on it. he clearly is not afraid of heights or at least doesn’t have much sense of danger. oscar stands close by, right behind him.

when everyone is scattering after the world will know, crutchie calls out “c’mon, les!” and waits for him, and les rushes to him beaming before davey calls out for les from the other side of the stage and they have to go the other way to all the other newsies. crutchie is very confused by this before he suddenly remembers, and leaves the stage scoffing, “folks.”

jojo and romeo bicker over who gets the water in jacobi’s. romeo grabs it and drinks most of it while jojo is complaining, and then finally gives it over for jojo to drink the rest.

mike knocked over someone’s water cup off the table and was giggling. and also did not pick it up, instead making the owner of the water - tommy or race, i think - dive under the table to do so.

as morris and oscar were leaving after soaking jack in the basement, oscar reached out for morris - who shoved him away harshly in the chest and kept walking.

9 july (jack bromage oscar)

finch openly laughs meanly with the others at davey after he apologises for being late. he turns around and jerks a thumb at davey and asks the others, “why’s he talkin’ to me?”

morris is Fast. considerably faster than oscar while they’re chasing jack. boy just Goes, with single-minded focus, leaving oscar several paces behind.

when medda shouts at jack and katherine in the theatre, it doesn’t occur to katherine until she notices jack apologising that it might be her that’s in trouble. she then scrambles to apologise too, like she’s never really been in trouble before.

morris is absolutely manic during the fight. he fights with no self-preservation or technique, just pure violence directed at anyone who gets close to him. he’s in a lot of pain, holding his ribs and panting and clenching his teeth, but doesn’t stop.

oscar and jack hate each other. the tension between them is incredibly deep-rooted and vicious, jack cajoles and mocks him and grins at him but there’s a tension beneath the casual facade. oscar is practically shaking with anger when he’s looking at jack.

when the delanceys are leaving the basement after soaking jack, oscar wrapped an arm around morris’ waist and pulled him close, and morris wrapped an arm around oscar’s shoulders in turn.

19 july

one of the nuns pulls the cigar out of race’s mouth, so he blows his mouthful of smoke in her face and laughs as he takes his cigar back.

jack tries to physically stop race from going and starting on oscar by putting himself between them, but race shoves past him, clearly with a bone to pick.

morris consistently punches harder than he can actually take. he’s always in visible pain after hitting anyone, shaking his knuckles out and wincing/grimacing.

morris and oscar briefly join hands and squeeze when wiesel separates them, but don’t hesitate or argue following the order.

jack holds tommy’s cross necklace and holds it up for him to see when he’s trying to convince him to join the strike. tommy is crying.

jojo openly and boldly argues with both delanceys during sales, and continues to shout after them even when they’re walking away.

at the rally, after jack shoves les to the ground, davey puts a hand on jack’s chest and helplessly begs him “stop” like he can’t believe that jack just did that. jack looks like he can’t believe it either.

during the finale, morris sat himself on the edge of the paper cart and lay back against the piles of papers. he pretty much went to sleep.

22 july (jack bromage morris)

crutchie prays in the morning while the other boys are getting ready - it seems like he’s doing the rosary, sat on one of the boxes.

one of the nuns tries to hold jack’s face and comfort him, but jack is the only one of the newsies to draw away. he is visibly incredibly uncomfortable, laughing awkwardly as she promises he’ll be saved and jesus loves him.

jojo throws himself forwards and says “me! i’ll take ‘em!” after davey rejects the papes jack bought for him. mike wrenches him back, rolling his eyes, and jojo looks confused.

crutchie proudly and slightly disbelievingly says “yes, davey!” as he starts finding his confidence during seize the day.

oscar sat himself on the edge of the paper cart, reclined back and spread out, smoking. morris sat down beside him, also smoking, but was drawn tight and fidgeting, swinging his legs. he did not even nearly touch the floor. oscar is so much bigger than him.

race is smoking as katherine enters jacobi’s and she grimaces as she has to walk through the smoke, trying to quickly fan it away from herself.

elmer looks through the drinks as they’re leaving jacobi’s and is disappointed to find them empty.

crutchie is lay in one of the overlooking boxes, watching as jack gets chased by snyder. he pulls out his rosary and prays, visibly panicking, looking utterly petrified for jack.

oscar just curls up on his side after being beaten by jack in their blackboard fight. it takes him A While to finally drag himself up and all but crawl offstage.

jojo got into a full-on fistfight with oscar during sales, though oscar was mostly just shoving jojo away, clearly unbothered by jojo’s attempts to hurt him.

david and katherine are stood together watching during king of new york, and both call out to les as he runs off to join the chaos. katherine calls “les! please stop—“ as he tries to vault the tables, but then bursts into laughter as she’s trying to be stern. davey looks like he’s ready to keel over.

morris couldn’t settle on how to stand in pulitzer’s office, fidgeting, until he finally glanced back and settled on an imitation of how oscar stands.

[xiaoluclair]

2 & 3

2. neck kisses

3. forehead kisses // charlando // rating: T for language (G for everything else)

Barcelona is about to boil his skin off. He needs dive into a cold bath, burrow into an ice berg. Maybe staple a couple hundred glaciers to his back. Drown in a massive vat of deep freeze. He'd do anything for even a hint of relief.

"Why don't you take this off?" suggests Max.

Lando shrugs further into his hoodie. "Absolutely not."

So. Almost anything.

Max rolls his eyes. Gives Lando a nudge and it's fond, probably. Alex continues to tell them in great depth about one of his eighty three cats and one of its ninety four fuckups. "Absolutely massive testicle," he's saying, hands apart in front of himself in what Lando could probably safely assume to be said massive testicle. George nods along, invested.

Across the trailer, Carlos is in front of the mic. Perez stands slightly to the side in serious conversation with Lance and Bottas. There's a gap between the first two. Lando pats Max's thigh, starts to skim past Lewis while George is saying, "What I don't get is."

Lando's pretty sure there's a lot he shouldn't get with whatever Alex was saying. "'Scuse me," he says. Logan moves out of the way with an apology, a grin. He makes sure to tap Oscar's shoulder on his way past, looks back to see him glancing over one, then the other, then roll his eyes when they meet his.

"Sorry," he says, when he finally reaches the three. "Do you mind if I."

Bottas moves back a step. "Thanks," mutters Lando, drops to the floor. He observes, "You never told me you were into feet." Next to his thigh, Lance's green boots shuffle a little.

Charles barely casts him a look. "Must have slipped my mind." He takes a long sip from his bottle, doesn't shift when Lando's shoulder presses a little to his. Another pair of green shoes have joined the club. They're right by Charles's knee before it flattened out, limp and almost touching Alonso's toe.

"One of Alex's cats has a massive ball," Lando retells. "Or maybe it ate a massive ball — body ball, by the way. Like, y'know." Charles's head is against his, hair teases the top of Lando's vision. The hook of his shades is a lump against his skull. "I wasn't really listening. He'll probably tell you later - or George will."

"Fun," says Charles. It's more of a grunt really, caveman era. That'll be fun tonight. If there is a tonight. Lando's thinking of why their could be, wouldn't be, mental pros and cons list with the worn down chalk in his brain, when Charles moves away from him.

Okay, thinks Lando. Wouldn't be it is. Wonders if he should get up now, then and there. Has his palms to the floor when Charles stuffs half his head right into his throat, shades hanging from one hand. He wonders — hopes not — if Charles can feel his heart next to his ear. Perez shifts a little, knee knocking into Alonso's.

"I want you to know," says Lando, fingers nudge their way under Charles's polo to the hot skin beneath. There's a layer of sweat there — gross. He doesn't move. "I am not okay with this."

A blind scoff, over the folds of his hoodie and right into his skin. "You gave me this."

"On second thought," says Lando snippily, "I think I preferred when you were being a caveman." It triggers another noise that vibrates against him. Yeah, there we go. Lando tilts his head down, is inspecting a speck on the floor, Valtteri's boots. Head happens to rest on Charles's hair as gets an earful of it as well.

It's easier to stay that way too.

Eventually, Lance nudges Lando in the leg, leans down. "Interview," he says, intently stares at his knee, scratches it. No thanks, Lando almost says, but that's not a liberty he's afforded really, so. Charles moves against him, meaning Lando has to move his head too. Still, he isn't expecting the kiss on his neck.

"Go kick ass," Charles tells him after he's pulled away entirely, like he didn't just. Like he didn't. He winks before shoving his shades back over his nose like. Like he did just.

Lando gets another bump, this time to his shoulder and harder. "I hope you drown in snot," he tells Charles sincerely and, thumping still coming from way too high in his throat, leans forward and presses his mouth to the place burning between his eyes, slightly clammy. The dip of his chin bumps the bridge of the shades. "See you. Uh."

"Later," says Charles, and Lando can't see his eyes but.

"Later," he confirms. Charles leans back at that. He's smiling.

Lando, let through Lance's legs to stand up on the other side of him, rolls up the sleeves of his hoodie.

[mdotmaro]

Winging It.

Chapter 2

Author's Note: I am so ecstatic at the reviews you all have left. I appreciate every kind word and am only mildly afraid of constructive criticisms :). I am going to continue this story along with a vague idea of what happens next. Confession time: I see much of my own relationship with Casey and Derek. No, not step-siblings, just their connection. The club scene with the drunken dancing and then kissing… yeah, that actually happened to us. Extra fun fact is that I was his boss at the time :P ANYWAY! Onto the main event.

"So, the glory of the stage wasn't all that in the end?" Lizzy assumed as she carefully packed Casey's dishware into the appropriately labeled boxes. Marti was on bathroom duty, and Nora was working on linens while Casey was backing her clothes and shoes. Casey's announcement to leave New York and go back to school for business with a minor in dance was warmly welcomed. Nora admitted that she was selfishly glad that Casey would only be a few hours away by car instead of a plane ride away. Marti was more curious about what happened. The now ten-year-old went through Casey's bathroom with precision to see if there was any clue her step-sister was hiding.

"Did Jessie do something stupid?" Marti asked from her perch on the bathtub. Casey gave a short laugh.

"No, he didn't. Even if he did, it doesn't matter. We broke up months ago. He was just a summer romance." Casey said with a reassuring smile. Marti narrowed her eyes, not entirely convinced. Casey desperately wanted to change the subject, so she moved to Lizzie, who was tapping up the last kitchen box.

"So, speaking of summer romances. Have you heard from Oscar, Lizzie?" Casey asked abruptly; Lizzie slipped and cut off a much longer piece of tape than was needed. She glared at her older sister, who mouthed 'sorry' to the now blushing teen. Lizzie cleared her throat.

"Oscar lives in Parkhill, and we have a date over at the skatepark over there. He is going to teach me to skateboard." Lizzie said and quickly picked up the box and scurried off downstairs to the car. Marti came out of the bathroom with her box and a confused expression.

"But Lizzie already knows how to skateboard. She taught Edwin and me," Marti said, and Nora giggled and took Marti in a light hug.

"Yes, but Oscar doesn't know that," Nora said with a smile, and Marti shrugged, still not understanding but not invested enough to keep asking. Casey, Nora, and Marti went downstairs for the last time and finished packing the moving truck. Casey would fly back with the girls, and after a weekend at home, she would go to Queens to start the Summer semester.

Normally Casey loved falling asleep on long flights, but her heart was beating too fast for her to relax. Derek had left New York from his short trip to see Casey two weeks ago, and they were still 'Winging it,' so to speak. They talked nearly every night, more or less the usual banter and teasing, but there was something else there. It was impossible to tell how the family would react to the eldest step-siblings 'winging it,' so they had both agreed not to say anything until they were sure. Casey was relieved she could convince Nora and George that she could live by herself in a dorm instead of in an apartment with Derek. They were afraid of her being alone, but she quickly reminded them that she had lived alone in another country for six months and did just fine.

Besides, the idea of them living together so soon after they...they kissed. Casey absentmindedly touched her lips in the memory of those hot at heavy sessions at the club and in her room. She unconsciously clenched her thighs together. They didn't move past the over clothing caresses and kissing. Casey had tried having sex with Jessie, and by tried, she means tried to go for longer than a few seconds because it was just too painful. Jessie wouldn't pressure her to go any further than she was willing, but coincidentally after the third time they tried having sex with no success, Jessie came over to say things were not working out.

Casey had been relieved, but now what? Derek, Casey imagined, had a lucrative sex life in university, and now that they were... whatever they were. How could she tell him that sex was so painful for her?

"Casey. Your cuticles are bleeding." Lizzie said, snapping Casey out of her intense thoughts. She had been peeling the excess skin at her cuticle, and sure enough, little garnet bubbles of blood had appeared around her nails. Casey quickly wrapped her especially mutilated middle finger in a napkin and applied pressure.

"What's wrong?" Lizzie asked and then peered over to the aisle across from them where Marti and Nora seemed to be sound asleep. "It's just me. You can tell me, and then it could make up for totally throwing me under the bus earlier." Lizzie teased and poked at Casey's side. Casey gave her little sister a guilty smile.

"Sorry again about that," Casey sighed and contemplated telling Lizzie everything. Her little sister was extremely mature for her age, but she adored Derek like a blood brother, and Casey knew that this would be jarring even if Lizzie acted supportively. Casey decided on half-truths.

"I am nervous about having sex," Casey whispered, and Lizzie furrowed her brows.

"But you and Jessie never?" Lizzie asked, and Casey let out a heavy sigh.

"We tried, but it was just too painful," Casey admitted, and then Lizzie shook her head.

"From what I have researched, sex is not supposed to hurt. You are not really even supposed to bleed because of your 'broken hymen.' If it hurts that much, he is doing it wrong." Lizzie explained, and Casey couldn't help but smile at her sister. Of course, she researched sex. A quick flush of panic ran through Casey, and she looked at her baby, 14-year-old sister. Had she already had sex? Lizzie laughed at her expression.

"Relax, I haven't had sex yet. Not really interested yet, but I have plenty of condoms when I am ready, and I will make sure I have mom or George take me to get the pill. Casey stared at Lizzie, quite impressed.

"Have you told Nora and George about your well-calculated plan? And where did you get condoms?" Casey was trying to keep her volume down not to alert the other plane passengers. Lizzie shrugged.

"George kept having to leave the conversation to go outside and get some air, but mom was glad I am being responsible, and I got the condoms from Edwin," Lizzie explained. Casey had a brief moment to imagine sweet George trying to compose himself at the idea of his stepdaughter having sex. Casey was sure that he would need therapy after Marti hit puberty.

"And where did Edwin get condoms?" Casey asked incredulously and then realized at the same that Lizzie said

"Derek," they both said in unison. Maybe it was naive, but Casey, the thought of her little siblings being open to the idea of having sex made her queasy. Casey's finger stopped bleeding, and she tucked the bloody napkin into her now empty bag of pretzels.

"Don't worry, things will happen naturally, and now if you want to bail, you can use Derek as an excuse," Lizzie tried to reassure. Unfortunately, her timing was awful, and Casey choked on her water that she had been drinking. Lizzie smacked her back hard, and a few curious passengers turned to check on the commotion. Casey finally regained the ability to breathe and nervously laughed at Lizzie.

"And what would Derek do?" She asked, trying not to sound shrill. Lizzie smiled at her sister.

"Oh well, he can play the role of overly protective brother," Lizzie said but then tilted her head in thought. "I mean, he wouldn't do it for free" She laughed. Casey gave Lizzie a small smile and let out a deep breath, and continued to look out the window. Maybe she was getting ahead of herself. She and Derek hadn't even been on an official date yet. Sure they had gone to eat in the city and run around central park and even went to an amusement park but had those counted as dates? I mean, they held hands through the corn maze, but Derek insisted it was because he didn't feel like chasing after her when she inevitably got lost.

Casey smiled at the memories. Something else that made her chest flutter was waking up next to Derek. She missed being held while she fell asleep, but it's not like they could do that right away at university. There were rules. Weren't there?

Edwin had just passed his driver's license and was glad to volunteer to pick them up at the airport. He had seemed to have grown several centimeters in the six months Casey had been away and now was slightly taller than her.

"Edwin, look at you!" Casey said as she attacked him in a bear hug. Edwin grinned and twirled so she could see his new and improved preppy wardrobe too. His jeans seemed uncomfortably tight, and his polo was maybe a bit snug, but his face was losing its baby softness, and he had a ghost of a mustache on his upper lip.

"I know, your little brother Edwino is all grown up and looking cool," He said, and Casey couldn't help pinching his cheek.

"Aww, you are so cute." She said, and he shrugged off her pinching.

"Casey, cute isn't cool. I am a man now." Edwin protested. Marti laughed as she passed her brother.

"Really, you're a man now. Why didn't we get the memo." She snickered, and Lizzie laughed as she went into the backseat to join Marti. Nora squeezed Edwin's shoulder reassuringly.

"Aw, don't listen to them, Edwin. We know you are a man, and speaking of which, we can start talking about when you can pay for your car insurance," Nora said, and Edwin gulped. Casey road in the back with the girls and Nora road shotgun. They were all talking animatedly, talking about school, Simon, and generally anything in the neighborhood. Casey was excited to see Emily. They had coordinated to see each other the next evening. Casey was hoping to talk to Emily about her and Derek, just to be able to talk to someone for advice. Emily and Derek broke up a week after graduation; things just seemed a bit forced. After having a crush on someone for so long, it was hard not to be crushed by the heavy expectation of a perfect ending. Emily actually was discovering a newer side of her sexuality and actually had a steady girlfriend, Ruby.

The house came into view, and before she could get swept up in the nostalgia, her heart dropped to her toes at the sight of the prince in the driveway.

"Wait. Why is Derek here? He isn't supposed to pick me up until Sunday?" Casey asked in a loud and almost shrill voice. Nora sighed.

"He was able to come down for the weekend. Isn't this great, Casey? The whole family gets to spend time together before you both go off to University. So, try to be civil, please." Nora pleased, and Casey sighed and nodded to her mother. George came out with a crying Simon. Casey had been right on her assumption that he had doubled in size. Poor George looked exhausted but smiled at his eldest step-daughter warmly nonetheless.

"Casey, it's great to see you," He said, and Casey hugged him and reached for Simon. The baby was pink-cheeked and bundled in a light green onesie. Casey started cooing at little Simon and rocking him lightly.

"Careful, he just projectile vomited on Derek," George warned after he kissed Nora. Casey chuckled.

"Knowing Derek, he probably deserved it," Casey said with the same cooing voice. She was surprised at how quickly the jeer came to her. Old habits, she guessed.

"Well, he is taking a shower now, so you'll have some time to get settled before you two go at each other's throats," George said and took her dance bag from her shoulder. Casey thanked him and went to sit on the couch.

"Oh hey, Casey, I hope you don't mind. We had to do a little room rearrangement with both you and Derek gone. We moved Edwin into Derek's room and Simon into his old room, and yours into a guest bedroom, so If you don't mind sharing the space with Derek's things. While you're here." Nora said and then clarified after seeing Casey's wide eyes. "Just his things; he will be taking the couch at night." Casey might have a nervous breakdown before the end of the weekend.

Simon started reaching out his tiny pale fists towards Nora, who happily collected her baby. Lizzie dragged Casey up to show her how she redecorated her room, and such was the process for the other two Venturi children. Casey retreated into her old room, now a guest bedroom, and exhaled against the door. She assessed the room. Gone were her ballet trophies and academic achievement awards. Now there was a pale yellow walled, neutral sandalwood furnished and fluffy white carpeted room. Derek's battered duffle bag was on the cream-covered bed. Casey swallowed thickly and thought back to her conversation on the plane with Lizzie. Derek had given condoms to Edwin. Did he pack any for this weekend? Was he expecting something to happen in their parents' home? She had only just begun to unzip the bag when a voice came up behind her.

"Snooping, Case?" Casey shuddered at Derek's warm breath on the back of her neck. Casey jumped and reflexively swung a pillow at Derek.

"Der-rek, you scared me." She shouted and then took an extra step back when she realized that he was shirtless and slightly damp from the shower. Derek had always been lean, but there was a new indent of muscles, especially at the v of his hips from piling more hours at the rink in university, and Casey forced her eyes to stay now lower than his collar bones.

"Yeah, but you were still snooping. What's up Casey, you seem a bit flushed?" He said with a level of sarcastic concern; he couldn't keep the mischief out of his dark eyes. Casey kept her chin held high.

"I just wanted to make sure you didn't bring anything inappropriate that the kids could find, like how you gave Edwin condoms. He is fifteen, Derek," She said hotly. Derek caught on to her real question.

"Well, he's at that age where it's better to be safe than sorry, and though he is not as in with the ladies as I was, it's part of being a big brother," He said and took another step towards her. Casey was already leaning against the nightstand. There was no. Further, she could retreat to. "But don't worry, I wasn't expecting anything this weekend," He reassured and then smirked. "And in our parents' home no less, for shame, Macdonald." He teased and cupped her chin once she let out a relieved exhale.

"Oh, shut up. I just wanted to make sure you didn't have any ill intentions." She said but leaned into his touch nonetheless. She quickly glanced at the door. Thankfully she had thought to lock it. Derek followed her gaze, and with the minor level of privacy, he leaned down and kissed her pouty lips. Casey sank into the kiss; his wet curls brushed her forehead and ran her cool fingers down the side of his face. Derek's hands roamed up and down her sides, occasionally dropping to squeeze her outer thighs. The feeling made Casey release a shuddering gasp. Derek moved both hands to her face and kissed her firmly before breaking away.

"Think you can hold off with just that for now, Case?" He asked, a bit breathless. Casey looked up into his eyes and saw the restraint he was using, so she offered a small smile and let the tips of her fingers whisper down his torso and then stop at his jeans' waistband. Derek bit back a grunt.

"Sure thing, Der," Casey said and turned to head downstairs. When she didn't hear his footsteps trailing her, she saw him with his back facing her and his hands resting on his hips. "You coming?" She asked

"Mhmm, Just give me a minute," He said, and Casey bit back her giggle. Derek let out a breath.

"Oh, don't worry, Princess. I'll pay you back."

Next day

"I'm sorry, run that by me again. You and Derek?" Emily asked for the third time. They were at Smelly Nelly's, and Casey was picking at her salad.

"Sorta. It's just something that happened all of a sudden when he came down to New York. Now I just keep getting all flustered around him and even the thought of him." Casey explained and then gave up on her salad altogether with a groan and holding her head in her hands. "Pathetic, huh."

"Well..." In a high-pitched voice, Emily caused Casey's head to look up and give her best friend a desperate look.

"Emily! I am in a delicate state right now." She complained, and Emily giggled at her friend's antics. Same old Casey.

"Casey, I am your best friend, and so it is my solemn sworn duty to inform you that this is not all of a sudden," Emily indicated with outstretched hands. "You two have had this intense chemistry that you both were too stubborn and thankfully young to understand. I had my suspicions, but I didn't want to jump the gun before you told me and inadvertently caused you to blow it out of proportion." Emily explained and then took a sip of her mint tea. Casey was in open-mouthed shock.

"I don't blow things out of proportion." Casey protested. Emily pursed her lips into a knowing smile. Casey waved it off.

"I mean, this is wrong, right? He is my stepbrother; we've known each other since we were fifteen," Casey whispered. Emily sighed.

"It's not conventional, that's for sure, but as you said, you were fifteen when you met. You didn't necessarily grow up together like Edwin, Lizzie, and Marti have. Have you guys talked about it?" Emily asked. Casey nodded.

"We have; since we don't really know where this will lead, we didn't want to get everyone at home involved, especially the kids," Casey explained, and Emily nodded in agreement and then reached out to hold Casey's hand.

"Casey MacDonald, you are stuck in your very own version of 'Clueless.'" She teased; Casey couldn't help but laugh at that. She conjured up her best Cher impression.

"As if! Derek wishes he were Pual Rudd."

The weekend hadn't been such agony to get through as Casey had predicted. Thankfully with so many people in the house, it was easy to slip a gaze or two, and hand grazes without being noticed. All things carried on well until Sunday breakfast.

"Okay, Derek, now that Casey is going to school with you, be sure to look after her," George said before shoveling down some eggs. Derek was across from Casey at the table and gave a nonchalant shrug.

"I'm pretty sure Casey can take care of herself." He said through a mouthful of bacon.

"For once, you're right, Derek," Casey said with as much bite she could muster. "I will be fine, George, and I didn't need Derek to save me in New York. I don't need him to save me in Queens." She said proudly and continued to eat her avocado toast.

"I didn't know you went to see Casey in New York, Derek," George said, and Casey almost choked. Derek gave Casey a leveled look that read, 'Way to go, Space Case.'

"I take it back; Casey needs all the help she can get. She called whining about everyone being so mean to her, so I took pity and flew in." Derek said a nudged Edwin. "The theater girls were hoooot," and the brothers shared a chuckle. Lizzie made a disgusted sound, and Casey tried to keep the burning blush from rising from her chest.

"I should have let them rip you apart." She snapped. Derek rolled his eyes.

"Please, unlike you. I can handle a few catty girls." He said, and Casey chucked an apple at his head, he easily ducked, but Marti wasn't so lucky.

"Oww, Casey!" She shouted.

"Oh, I am so sorry, Marti." She said, and her stepsister grumbled by something along the lines of 'quit flirting.' Only Derek was close enough to hear, and he froze.

"What was that, Smarti?" He said, and she looked up at her brother, and her dark blue eyes said that she knew far more than they were letting on. Derek frowned at her; when did Marti start rebelling against Derek? Mari batted her lashes at him and smiled.

"Oh nothing, Smirk. I am just going to miss you and Casey when you go away." She said and threw her arms around Derek's neck and whispered so low that only he could hear. "I know."

[dontasktheradiodemon]

Orientation Talk

Alastor realizes he and Telly @usedhearts have, in fact, never discussed with each other how they see their sexualities. Which seems like a rather important thing to know about the person you're dating.

From there they segue into talking about their experiences with antemortem queer communities and drag.

Alastor

The door slams open. “SEXUALITY!” Apparently this is how Alastor is saying “hello” today. “That’s the word of the decade, isn’t it! Everyone wants to know what everyone else’s sexuality is! There’s thirty new labels and all of them are color-coded!” A wave of his hands and a bunch of magical miniature pride flags flutter around like confetti and then disappear. “And for all that, I’ve made the ghastly error of just—taking for granted that I already know yours! So!” He looks around. He got through that monologue confident that Telly is, in fact, in the room, without actually checking.

THERE he is. “So!!” Alastor crosses the room to plop a hand on Telly’s shoulder. “You... what do you consider yourself? Anything in particular? You ARE inclined toward both ladies and gentlemen, aren’t you?”

Sir Pentious

At the slamming door and the sudden shout, Telly's hood flares and he lets out a mighty hiss!! Look at him, how scary!!!

Oh, it was just Alastor. Alastor asking about his.... sexuality? Well, alright, that was new.

"Yes, of course. I thought that would be plain to see? I think the modern term is 'bisexual'? Yes." His head tilted. "Why the sudden interest, darling?"

Alastor

“Well, I thought you were!” A shrug! “But your alternate thought you’re only inclined toward men, so...!” ANOTHER SHRUG. “I thought I ought to check.”

Sir Pentious

There was a slight, momentary BWUAGH at that revelation-- Penny had thought he was only into men? How? But he shook away the thought to focus back on the conversation.

"For a while I thought I might, honestly-- be just into men, that is. But well...." He smiled sheepishly and shrugged. "Ladies...."

Alastor

Alastor nodded slowly in comprehension.

Then shook his head slowly. No. The nod was a lie. He didn’t comprehend. “I’ll take your word for it.”

Sir Pentious

"I always liked ladies, but the only one I truly fancied before I died was Olivia. But well we....you know. And then I fell for George." A shrug. "So until I died, I didn't really think of it. And then after, it wasn't really important for a good, oh, decade or so."

Another shrug. "What about you?"

Alastor

He nodded again, taking mental notes. So that was attraction without the full-blown romantic feelings? Outside of Hollywood, attraction was such a mysterious, malleable thing—

—oh, but now Telly wanted to know about *Alastor’s* mysterious malleable thing. At least Alastor’s was a lot smaller. “Well, that depends! Would you extrapolate an orientation from a sample size of one?”

Sir Pentious

Telly tilts his head, thinking about it. "Not really? If there's only one, than that's an outlier and shouldn't be counted."

Alastor

"That's generally what I think about it! And going by that, my preferences are for none of the above, thanks, I'm just fine—which these days I'm told is called 'aromantic and asexual'—you need both those terms, apparently—which, sure, fine, they get the job done. But you *do* have to throw out that outlier."

Sir Pentious

Telly thought a moment. "Am....I the outlier? Or, rather, Sir Pentiouses?"

His head tilted, his claw tapping at his chin. "Hmmm..."

Alastor

"Yes, sir, you are." A crooked smile. "So, count the outlier, and I'm stone cold gay. All the people I've ever been attracted to have been men, all one of 'em. So, it depends on the qualifying criteria for all the different terms—and that's out of my hands. The terms belong to other people, not me."

Sir Pentious

"Well, the terms are there for you to slap on yourself and say 'this is me'. But if you don't wish to slap any on, then, who can _make_ you? No one!" Telly smirked, leaning closer to kiss the tip of his nose.

"It'sss none of anyone elssse'ss business anyway! You don't want anything with anyone but me, that's fine by me." He snickered.

Alastor

Alastor shakes his head. “No, no—the terms don’t exist for slapping on yourself, they exist for showing off to other people. That’s the *only* reason they exist. It’s like a soldier wearing a uniform—you don’t wear one because you like it, you wear one to ensure your side doesn’t shoot at you and that you get let into the mess hall for food. The terms tell other people which groups you belong to. It’s the business of the groups to decide which criteria qualify individuals for membership, and the business of the individuals to learn the criteria and whether or not they qualify. So that’s the question, see. Not ‘am I gay’ but ‘would the gays consider me gay.’” He slings an arm around Telly’s neck—not for any particular reason, he just feels like hanging off of Telly. “Personally, I don’t much care, but! You asked about me, and those are the closest labels I can get without knowing how the population at large handles outlier cases.” He shrugs.

Sir Pentious

"Perhaps more research is required. I'm _sure_ you're not the ONLY person to ever exist who's been like this when it came to romance and sex." He flicked his tongue against Alastor's cheek. Get licked.

"I find the term bisexual works for me. And I say that whatever you are, I like it. The terms change so much, who's to say if we will not have new ones in a few decades anyway!"

Alastor

“What, a man who fell for one man but nobody else? Oh, I’m sure there’s been more! There’s certainly enough pulp novels about them. Although they’re usually about repressed men having their gay awakening. I don’t think that applies to me—I considered that I might be inclined toward men long before I considered that I might be inclined toward no one.”

He gets licked. That shouldn’t make his heart flutter, *and yet.* Just ignore how goofy his smile looks for a couple seconds, he’s TRYING to focus here. “Oh, I’m sure we will! They’ve got to reshuffle all the categories every couple decades or so, haven’t they? In my time I would have gone by ‘confirmed bachelor.’ Told people exactly what to expect from you without telling them a thing about what you got up to. Category X was my favorite descriptor, though—it sounds like something out of a science fiction horror picture show.”

He leans more heavily on Telly while he gestures with his free hand, like he’s indicating the words on a movie poster: “‘The Mystery of Category X!’ ‘The X Category from Outer Space!’ ‘You can run, but you can’t hide, from... Category X!’” He laughs, then glances up at Telly. “I suppose you haven’t always gone by ‘bisexual’ either?”

Sir Pentious

"I like that one, too. Category X has pizzazz!" He let out a hissing laugh, squishing his cheek into Alastor's.

"Oh, certainly not, I don't think they had a term for it in my day! I started hearing it sometime in the 1900s, I'm not sure when exactly." Telly shrugged briefly.

"I never really encountered anyone else who was like me, at least not one that I wasn't ensconced with at the time! I never had that sort of 'community', I suppose."

Alastor

“Really? No one?” Had Telly died thinking he and George were the only men in the world who wanted to sleep with other men? No, that couldn’t be possible—he was an upper-class gent, surely he’d at least read Greek poetry and such? Homer? “Never crossed paths with Oscar Wilde’s crowd?”

Sir Pentious

A slight BWUAGH at the mention of Wilde and Telly blinked rapidly. "Wilde? No? He was an artist, I was an engineer. We hardly ran in the same circles. I was also a recluse and generally only socialized, when forced, with people that my mother approved of, and she certainly did NOT approve of him."

He snorted and shook his head. "Probably thought he would've queered me up even more, if we had crossed paths."

Alastor

“Hah! I suppose that makes sense. Inventors and and entertainers aren’t frequent bedfellows, are they?” A wink; yes, he realizes the irony. “I suppose I’m the lucky one—I fell in with the *theater crowd.* From 1922 on, the only straight people I knew were my mother and my coworkers, and I’m not sure about my coworkers!” He laughs. “No, that’s an exaggeration. Not by much.”

Sir Pentious

"Ah yes, _actors_ the bane of my parents' existence! How they loved to talk about how _actors_ 'corrupted the youth' and all that hogwash! Looking back, it's funny to think about." He laughed again, leaning against Alastor.

"But tell me more about it, I'm dreadfully curious."

Alastor

“And they were *right!* Why, I hung out with actors in my youth, and look where I am now!” He gestured around himself. At Telly’s room. “... I meant ‘in Hell,’ but our present surroundings don’t quite convey that, do they.” He laughed.

“What, the theater crowd? Or the queer crowd? Granted, there’s a lot of overlap...”

Sir Pentious

"And yes, I, who never did, am also here! Though perhaps that is more because of the whole murder and blowing up half of London thing." He laughed more.

"Oh both! Or either! I don't know much about either one, both sound fascinating."

Alastor

“Well, if you weren’t hanging out with *actors,* I guess all that murder is the only explanation left, isn’t it?”

Oh, if only they had the time to sit together while Alastor told Telly every single detail of both his theater career and the queer scenes he’d been involved in—and then the rest of his life—and then get Telly to share every detail of *his* life. But for now, he’d have to narrow it down.

“When I first got involved in New York City, the scene was a little bit of both—theater *and* queer! The crowd I fell in with was very performance-oriented. You know, drag balls, that sort of thing. They started drawing in tourists, even! Straight folks would pay money to come to the balls and be entertained by the men in dresses—that was how we were referred to then, ‘female impersonators’ they were called. If I ran into the souls I knew back then today, I think some would still consider themselves that, but others by now might consider themselves transsexual women who decided to make a show out of their transformations—but those weren’t different categories yet. All of us wore trousers at our day jobs and wore skirts at parties, and that made us the same as each other, even if our private reasons for putting on a skirt were different.”

He’d let go of Telly and started pacing around as he spoke, gesturing, playing snips of party music, briefly summoning up shades wearing the silhouettes of elaborate gowns, dancing with them for a measure or two. “It was such a big tourist draw that if you showed up with a skirt and an Adam’s apple, you could get into a ball at a discount! It was a *thrilling* party scene, but... well, it was a party scene.” The energy of the music and shadows started dying, like a wound-up music box slowing down. “It got exhausting. New York wore me out. Or I wore myself out in New York—one or the other.”

Sir Pentious

Telly watched the show-- and what a show it was! Alastor was always the entertainer, even now, with an audience of one. He settled onto his coils, eyes following Alastor's every gesture, smiling when he twirled with shades.

"Yes, it _does_ sound like that would get exhausting after a while! I could hardly stand the stuffy balls that I went to in my day, I can't even imagine what ones intended for FUN must've been like, especially doing it all the time." He set his chin on his hands, now resting on his tail.

"What about New Orleans? What was it like there? More parties?"

Alastor

“No! Well, *some*—it *was* the twenties—but it wasn’t like New York’s scene. All the masculine women and feminine men sort of clustered together in the *Vieux Carré*—now *there* was where the *artists* hung out—and you’d have your speakeasies and your rowdy nights, but it wasn’t a *spectacle.* New Orleans was very laid back, always had been.” And just talking about it, Alastor looked more laid back himself—less frantically energetic and more comfortable. Like he’d actually *come* home instead of just talking about it. He even stopped waltzing around and plopped down on Telly’s coils.

“They were very French about the whole thing, which primarily meant ‘mind your own business.’” He laughed, conjuring up a shadow pantomime of a couple of gossips whispering to each other. “Try to tell one neighbor about spotting another with his tongue down a man’s throat, and the neighbor’s more likely to be offended that you’re spreading this around than they are to be offended at what the other neighbor’s been up to.” One of the gossips silently scolded the other for bringing up the subject, and then the shadows dissolved. “It wasn’t wholehearted *love,* by any means—but you get a little extra privacy when nobody wants to know about everyone else’s affairs. That’s what New Orleans was like.”

Sir Pentious

Telly hummed, nodding along. "Yes, that sounds better to me too. I like the New Orleans way, but then again, I always did like the French!"

He laughed a little. "That's not very English of me, is it? I should hate the French! But here I am, with a French lover-- or at least, French adjacent. How scandalous!" Another, louder laugh, as he wrapped his arms around Alastor's waist.

Alastor

“A *French lover!* Me!” He laughed loudly. “Well, aren’t we a pair fit for a saucy short story! You could be the unworldly English student studying abroad in Paris, and I’d be the pretty French girl who keeps throwing you come-hither looks. You’d fall for my mysterious sexual allure and I’d fall for your... you know, none of those short stories ever explain what it is the French girls see in the English students. Probably because they tend to be written by British men.”

He tapped Telly’s chest, “Did they have those stories when you were alive? There’s this *one* author I read who only wrote two things: bone-chilling horror, and artists falling in love with nubile young French girls. I couldn’t *stand* when he wrote about French girls.”

Sir Pentious

Telly couldn't help laughing at that. "Oh, sounds like every young man I knew who went to spend a year abroad. They _all_ wanted a French mistress, or an Italian one, though those seemed to be harder to come by."

His head tilted as he thought. "It's not ringing a bell, but I'm sure if I saw his name I would recognize him. I've always been a fan of horror." He flicked out his tongue. "But back on topic! You joined in with the balls and such in New York, but what about in New Orleans?"

Alastor

Alastor dragged his head back from trying to remember the name of a war story by the same author and an entirely unrelated book about a *male* French lover—to be continued later, maybe—and back to the question at hand. New Orleans balls?

“Oh, New Orleans didn’t have balls, not like New York. Not that I got invited to, anyway. There were *professional* ‘female impersonators’—they were on stages all across the country in the twenties—but that was show business. In the *Vieux Carré* bars, anyone dressed unusually was doing it for themselves rather than for an audience.”

Sir Pentious

"Did you ever join in there?" His head tilted, and he flicked his tongue at Alastor. A fully captivated snake, that's what he had on his hands right now.

Alastor

“In *New Orleans?* Goodness, no! Far too close to home! It was Prohibition! What if the Mabel men came knocking? If my mother had to see me locked up in a cell, I wanted to give her as few questions to ask me as possible!” He laughed. “Anyway, the New York scene burned me out for the next couple of decades. Once I left the North, I didn’t pick it up again until I’d been dead a while.”

Sir Pentious

"What, the 'female impersonation'? Or just generally being more openly a part of queer spaces?" Cue a head tilt, but this time in the OTHER direction. Such versatility.

Alastor

“Female impersonation—although I don’t like to call it that when I do it. I’m not trying to impersonate a female, I’m... well, whatever I’m doing.” A vague shrug. Thoughts. “I prefer ‘drag.’ It... implies less about one’s motivations, I suppose.”

Sir Pentious

When Alastor said that, something finally clicked in Telly's mind and he sat up suddenly, letting out a loud "Oh!"

"SO _THAT'S_ WHAT DRAG IS! I'D BEEN MEANING TO ASK YOU AT THE BALL BUT WE GOT, WELL, DISTRACTED!" He laughed.

Alastor

“Y... you didn’t know—?” Alastor blinked at him, then wheezed in laughter. “Telly, *mon roi,* YOU were in drag!”

Sir Pentious

Telly rolled his eyes (all of them) and crossed his arms, giving a huff. "YES, I KNOW THAT _NOW_. BUT AT THE TIME, I HADN'T HEARD THE TERM BEFORE! OR I HAD AND JUST NEVER CONNECTED IT TO THE WHOLE SUBCULTURE OR SOME SUCH THING!"

A couple more huffs. Huff huff. And then he settled. And he pouted.

Alastor

Oh no, not the pouting. Alastor tried *very hard* to stop laughing. “Well—“ a giggle escaped, “—you know now.”

Sir Pentious

He huffed again but then relaxed a little more, reaching to take Alastor's hand and play with his fingers.

"Well, you've seen ME in drag, when do I get to see _you_ in it, hm?"

Alastor

“Oh?” THAT got Alastor to stop laughing, although it didn’t do a thing to banish the mischievous sparkle in his eyes. “In ten minutes, if you want.”

Sir Pentious

Telly's tongue stuck out and he blinked, before grinning. "Really? Just ten minutes? Doesn't it usually take a long time to get into drag? I mean, it took me _hours_ to get fully ready, and that was before the paint!"

He chuckled.

Alastor

“It depends on how you do it. I’m a bit more minimalist in my approach.” He was going to take that as a request to see. He winked, slid off of Telly’s coils, and ducked into the false bathroom to change. He slipped of his shoes and used them to wedge the door a couple inches open so they could keep talking. “It’s why I can’t get into the whole drag *scene.* It gets so competitive! Even more than it was in the twenties! Some crowds are laid back about it, but other crowds treat you like you’re going to get scored 1 to 10 on how feminine you are and your objective should be to hit a 12—and then other crowds still actually *will* score you. And oh, it’s a fantastic show to *watch*—but that’s not why I do it. And not how I want to do it.”

Sir Pentious

"Hmm. Yes, I think I agree with you there. I wouldn't want to be scored on something like that." He made a face-- not that Alastor could see. Telly leaned against the bed, chin resting on his arms.

"I do think it would be fun to watch, though-- maybe we can see if there's ones to watch here in Hell sometime!"

Alastor

“Oh, sure, there are drag shows and balls all the time! Competitive and otherwise. Just let me know what kind you want to see, and if I don’t know where one’s happening within a month I’ll know somebody else who does.”

Sir Pentious

"Perhaps sometime in the future, both our schedules are fairly full currently!" He chuckled.

"I never thought of drag as a performance before, but after the masquerade, I can see why some would want to put on a show! It seems fun..."

Alastor

“Maybe in a few years you’ll be the one getting on stage!” Running water sound~ He’s got to wash out and restyle his hair. In the sink, apparently. “When did you start doing drag? Surely the masquerade wasn’t your first time?”

Sir Pentious

He hummed again, giving a soft sigh.

"I wanted to, in life, but of course, Mother and Father would never allow it. They'd punish me if they saw me trying to try on any of my sister's gowns. And my elder sisters would tattle on me, too. So I stopped trying.

"But then, once I got to Hell, I realized that not only was it easier now, but also more practical, considering I don't even wear pants anymore. And there was no one around to tell me no! I had a few dresses commissioned-- they're still in my closet. But I only ever wore them in private. It was still the late 1800s and early 1900s at the time, after all, and I had a reputation to keep.

"I got more and more as time went on, and started wearing them casually whenever I didn't need to wear my suit. But still, I only wore them out a couple times before the ball. And I'd never worn one as extravagant as that costume!"

Alastor

Oh, he’s got to ask to see those older dresses sometime. “You certainly wore it well!”

The running water stopped as he got to work combing out and styling his wet hair. “And... what does it *mean* to you, when you do it?”

Sir Pentious

Telly fell silent, thinking on the question. He puzzled over it for a good bit before he answered.

"I'm not sure, really. I just like wearing them! But they're just clothes. I'm as comfortable in them as I am in my suit, or even nothing at all. I _do_ enjoy the way they swish around me, though."

Alastor

Alastor wasn’t sure what he was expecting—or even if he’d been expecting anything at all—but somehow the fact that it was that simple disappointed him. What *had* he wanted to hear?

He could wonder about that later. He kept his disappointment out of his voice as he asked, “So it’s just another fashion option, nothing more nor less?”

Sir Pentious

"Yes, I suppose. They make me happy, though, and that's what's important! Though, honestly, so do my novelty snake themed tee shirts!"

He hissed out a laugh.

Alastor

“I *am* a fan of those shirts!” And not just because he’d started stealing them to serve as his undershirts. What was he wearing now? He pulled out his collar to check. Ah! The bananaconda. One of his personal favorites. “I especially like the ones with puns! Some of them are... *hiss-terical.*”

Sir Pentious

Another, louder, and hissier laugh!!! "Oh yes! I adore them! They're so comfortable and give me a good guffaw!!"

Alastor

Okay, he was on the finishing touches. He slipped his shoes away from the door and back on, and... “Ta-daaa!”

Not a whole lot changed. He redid his hair, added eyeshadow (he was already wearing lipstick), removed his coat and bow tie, unbuttoned his top a little, and switched his pants for a skirt and his socks for stockings. Most of his time in the bathroom had been spent on rinsing out his hair, combing it into a slightly more feminine bob, and gelling it in place. It was, as he’d promised, very minimalist drag.

Sir Pentious

Oh, but the changes, no matter how small, added up to a lot in Telly's eyes-- which were currently blown wide like a cat seeing a new toy. He got up and slithered over, cupping Alastor's face in his claws.

And he just leaned in and kissed him.

Alastor

Alastor returned the kiss, then leaned back and winked. “You know, I *thought* you might say something like that.” He had a very convincing Southern Belle voice he used when fully dolled up.

Sir Pentious

Oh. _Oh._ That voice. That voice!! It did things to him. He grinned lifting Alastor off the ground, arms wrapped tight around his waist.

"Madame!!! You are lovely and charming, and I am filled with adoration!!"

Alastor

“Well, aren’t you just the most *flattering* gentleman!” Alastor pulled out a fan (the ray gun fan) to “cool off.” “You’re going to put me in a swoon, talking like that!”

Sir Pentious

"Of course! What gentleman _wouldn't_ be caught up by such a darling belle!"

Telly leaned in, kissing all over Alastor's face and neck. He simply couldn't get ENOUGH.

Alastor

*Oh—* Alastor returned as many kisses as he could, peppering them across Telly’s face and hood. When he finally started laughing, it was in his usual voice. “Amazing the difference a little eyeshadow and re-parting your hair can make, isn’t it?”

Sir Pentious

He needed a moment to come back to himself, his grin face splitting.

"Oh, yes! It's quite amazing!" And he's going to nuzzle right into the neck and start purring. He lives here now.

Alastor

Alastor will waive the rent if Telly keeps paying in purrs. It’s like a free neck massage. He laughs. “Do you like it that much?”

Sir Pentious

"Well, I think if it wasn't you, then I don't know. But it IS you and so, yes, I like it very much." He pressed kisses to Alastor's neck, still purring there against him.

"The accent is very cute, too."

Alastor

Alastor slung both arms around Telly’s shoulders to keep himself steady under the barrage of kisses. “Oh, the accent was a hit in New York, let me tell you! I never was decorated enough to turn heads, but if I could get someone in a conversation, I’d have a whole crowd hanging off of me in five minutes! It’s even better now that I can **play with my voice.**” Radio Demon, bass boosted.

Sir Pentious

Telly laughed at the bass boosting, his hood flaring out-- this time with delight! That's a new one, but a good one.

"Yes, I bet you can do all SORTS of things with your voice now, can't you?"

Alastor

Most people were freaked out by the sudden bass boost. The fact that Telly laughed gets a wide smile that crinkles the corners of Alastor’s eyes. “Truth be told, I mainly use it to discourage fights or sing a little better. Not *that* much better, mind. I’ve always been pretty good.”

Sir Pentious

"I _do_ like it when you sing, you should sing more!" He leaned in to pepper more kisses onto Alastor. Mostly on his neck. Smooch, smooch, smooch, and then....his mouth opened and he scraped his fangs against his skin. Time to be a tease.

Alastor

“Oh, *should* I!” Dangerous words around the Radio Demon A musical backing track started up...

And sputtered, and started and stopped again, as he was distracted by the teeth scraping. “... Gladly, when you’re not giving me something else to do with my mouth.” He tries to catch Telly’s mouth so he can get those teeth on his lips.

((And after this they get raunchy, so part 2 tomorrow))

[captnbarnesrogers]

Fall: Welcome to Brooklyn

Pairing/Characters: College AU!Bucky Barnes x Reader, Steve Rogers, Winnifred Barnes, George Barnes, Rebecca Barnes (Bucky 616 Family) Warnings: Nothin, swearin Chapter Summary: Bucky takes you home to Brooklyn and introduces you to his family and close friend, Steve but someone can tell that this isn’t the real deal.  Word Count: 2k+ A/N: Chapter two woop woop

You tapped your foot impatiently on the concrete ground. How could one person be late to their own event. As you looked across the yard, you see Bucky giving a blonde-headed girl a rough kiss, hands tangled in her hair. You rolled your eyes. He ran towards you and waved her goodbye.

“You’re fifteen minutes late! We’re going to miss the flight.” You groaned.

“Sorry, I had, uh, business to take care of.”

“Christ! Just say you slept with someone and you woke up late, women aren’t ‘businesses’, Bucky.” He took your tone seriously and immediately apologised, “Okay, load your shit and let’s go.” He found it to be quite a turn on that you were so straightforward, something he wasn’t used to with the girls he’d been with.

After exiting the car, Bucky thanked the driver and wished him a nice day. Today was a good day, it wasn’t too hot or too cold, the humidity in Los Angeles kept it that way. When you boarded the plane, Bucky buckled his seatbelt and exhaled.

“Get ready for the loudest family you’ll ever meet.” You chuckled.

“The louder the better.”

“I hope you mean that because you’re in for a wild ride.” 

You bought a book on-board with you but before you knew it, you’d passed out. Bucky positioned your head on his shoulder and covered you in a blanket, not wanting you to get too cold from the plane’s air conditioning. He dog-eared the last page you landed on and placed it atop of the table in front of you. He let out a quiet chuckle at the way your mouth opened whilst you slept, swearing that drool was about to slip out. He watched a couple of movies before the pilot announced that the plane was about thirty minutes away from landing. Bucky gently shook you awake.

“Good morning sleepyhead.” You look up at him, catching his cheeky smile, “Have a good nap?”

“Yeah, since I had to wake up at 6 in the morning, only for you to show up fifteen minutes late.” You replied groggily.

“You wanna know the cherry on top of your sundae?” You raised your eyebrows in response, your head lifted from his shoulder, “It’s -2 degrees outside!” You groaned and squeezed your eyes shut before waking yourself up and sitting up, getting ready to get off the plane.

“See you in 10 minutes? Okay cool.” He could see how cold you were. Tapping your foot on the ground, your hands curling into fists, “They’re almost here, you good?”

“Yeah, j-just not used to the cold.”

“It’s not too bad today.” He stepped in closer and took both of your hands in his, covering the back of your hands and rubbing heat into them. You flinched lightly when he brought them up to his lips and started blowing hot air into them, “Relax, it’ll make your hands warm by the time they get here.”

“Okay, sorry.” He shook his head.

“Don’t apologise, you’re fine.”

“I’m just nervous, I guess.” You mumbled as he kept rubbing and blowing hot air into your hands.

“You’re really getting into girlfriend mode here.” He laughed.

“Really? Well, look at you.” You eyed him and his hands atop of yours.

“Touché, Y/N, touché.”

Seven minutes pass by and Bucky’s dad arrives in a black car, helping you both with your bags into the back.

“Freezing, isn’t it?” He ushered you both into the car, “Introductions later, let’s go.” Like an Oscar-worthy performance, you acted as if you’d been with Bucky for a long time, snuggling into him a little. It took Bucky aback a little, you being so affectionate after scolding him not even half an hour ago about waking up at 6 in the morning. You locked your arms into his and your head laid on his shoulder the whole ride back to his home. When you all arrived, Bucky had insisted that you go inside while he and his father unload the car but of course, you refused. You helped him with the bags and headed inside alongside him.

You greeted everyone once you entered their warm home, giving them hugs and a welcoming smile.

“Mom, Dad, Bec, this is Y/N Y/L/N, my girlfriend.” When those words came out of his mouth, it felt foreign. Probably because you’d never had a single person introduce you as one.

“Well, it’s so nice to meet you, Y/N, my name is Winnie and while our dear Bucky,” Winnie says with a disappointed tone, “hasn’t spoken about you, Steve has and you sound just wonderful.” Winnie took you by the hand and led you to the couch, sitting you down. His sister, Rebecca, followed whilst Bucky and his dad headed into the kitchen to grab a beer, “Tell us everything, how you met, what you do… Everything!” You could only give out a nervous chuckle.

“It’s a funny story actually.”

Wednesday, September 22nd, 2016 – UCLA Fall Semester Orientation

You hated being the new kid. Your anxiety was at an all time high and you were surrounded by people who were already making new friends. Although, knowing that these people were also new to the university calmed you down a little bit.

“If everyone could gather around and quiet down, tour is about to start, the quicker we start the quicker we can get you into your dorms.” The guide wore a blue and yellow shirt, UCLA written right across the middle, his hair was brown and long which he kept pushing back. To his right was a red headed girl and next to her was another guy with ashy blonde quaffed hair. They were laughing together whilst the brown headed guy tried to quiet everyone down.

“Hey! SHUT UP!” The red-headed yelled out and the crowed quietened down in an instant, “Thank you.”

“Thank you, Natasha.” He turned back to everybody, “Hey guys, I’m Bucky, this is Natasha, and Clint,” he pointed to the people beside him, “we’re your tour guides and once we’re done we’ll settle you into your dorm rooms.”

An hour later, a group which included yourself, were taken to your dorm rooms. The hallway was long but each of the first years had a room as you guys walked down. Your room was at the very end and you were bunking with another first year, her name is Maria. You exchanged greetings and she showed you around the room.

“I’m quickly just going to say thank you to the guide guy.” Maria nodded and gave you a smile. When you exited the room, you didn’t notice that Bucky was coming back to check on your room. Before you could react, your bodies bumped into each other, squishing the hot paper cup of coffee all over each other. You immediately reacted, “Oh my god, I am so sorry, oh fuck, oh my- I’m so so sorry!” You took off the jacket you were wearing and started dabbing his shirt, “This is all my fault, I-”

He couldn’t stop looking at you. He found it quite adorable how apologetic you were. Dabbing your own jacket up and down his shirt to dry him up. He took your wrist in his hand and you stopped in your tracks.

“You’re all good…” Waiting on you to answer with your name.

“Y/N.”

“Y/N.” He repeated, “Don’t worry about it, it’s an ugly shirt anyway.”

“Oh.” You smiled, “Okay.” Chuckling nervously.

“I’m Bucky.”

“I know, you, uh, said that at the, um, the garden.” You couldn’t stop looking at him. His eyes were beautiful and the way he spoke was like music to your ears, “I’m Y/N.”

“I know, you said that already.” You could slap yourself in the face. You did say that already.

“Looks like you do owe me a new cup of coffee though.”

“Okay, sure, um, where could we find that?” He laughed at you, not noticing that we was trying to flirt.

“I’m kidding, you know that, right?” You shook your head as you laughed at your own stupidity, “You know what though?”

“What?”

“I think we’re gonna be good friends, Y/N.”

You could tell by Winnie and Bec’s face that they were about to burst into laughter.

“You poured coffee all over my brother?” Bec laughing, clutching her stomach.

“Not poured, it was an accident and we were friends ever since.”

“And then I asked her out six months ago.” Bucky chimed in, taking a sip out of his bottle of beer, “Right, babe?” You nodded.

“You deserve more than a coffee spillage!” Rebecca laughed, pointing at her brother and his demise. Bucky threw a couch pillow at her and laughed along. Suddenly, there was a knock at the door.

“James, let your father get that and come sit down with your wonderful girlfriend.” He smiled at you and sat down next to you, legs touching and arm hung around your shoulder. Chattering came from the hallway and then extravagant cheers of happiness.

“Steve!” He got up from beside you and gave the blonde haired man a tight hug.

“Buck! Good to see ya, man!” He looked down at you sitting on the couch. You got up from your spot and Bucky stood beside you, “You must be Do-”

“Y/N, this is Y/N.” Bucky butted in.

“I thought her name was Dot.” Steve whispered almost to himself.

“Dot?” Winnie and Bec questioned. Bucky’s Dad took a swig from his beer and slipped into the kitchen. Bucky, you could tell, was stressing. Time to bust out the improv skills you’d recently learned from your improv class.

“My middle name is Dorothy, my uh, mom was obsessed with the Wizard of Oz when she was pregnant with me.” The silence in the room turned into ‘Ohhhh’s’ and Bucky thanked you with his eyes, “It was only right, you know?” Steve looked at you with suspicion in his eyes. He knew you were lying. He looked at Bucky and back at you. He knew that you were both lying. You weren’t the girl Bucky had previously described to him. Not even close to the features that Bucky had talked about.

“Well, I might take Y/N to the museum, show her around Brooklyn.” Bucky suggested.

“In this weather?” Steve questioned.

“Yeah, the museum’s warm.” You said goodbye to Bec, Winnie, and George, promising to see them later on in the evening and Steve tagged along with you both.

“Did you want to sit in the front, Steve?” You offered.

“Nah, you’re the girlfriend, right?” You cleared your throat with nervousness and nodded. Bucky looked at you and he knew that Steve knew. You sat in the front and closed the passenger side door, Bucky and Steve following.

“So you know then?” Bucky asked directing to Steve. Steve just nodded.

“You think after 23 years, you can lie to me?”

“She’s not Dot.” They both said at the same time, “Her name is Y/N though.”

“I know.”

“She’s a friend of mine from UCLA.” Bucky explained.

“A bit younger than you, no?” Bucky nodded, “And how do you think this is going to work out? Lying to your family like this?”

“I just wanted them off of my back, Steve.” Steve shook his head in disbelief, being the Dad friend you already knew he was and you guys drove out of the driveway, headed on the road to the Brooklyn Museum.

Bucky showed you all of his favourite art pieces, explaining what he liked about them and history of the people who painted them. He was like a miniature brochure of the museum’s art gallery. You guys walked around the exhibition and admired the pieces with history within them and Steve excused himself to the bathroom. Taking this as an opportunity to talk to Bucky.

“Steve doesn’t like me, does he?” You asked, fidgeting.

“He doesn’t not like you, he doesn’t like what I’m doing, he doesn’t like lying of any type.” He wrapped his arms around you, “Even little white lies.”

“Is there anything I can do?”

“He’ll come around, you’ll find that Steve is all about the good in the world and he’s always trying to make it a better place.” He placed a kiss on your cheek.

“You know no one’s around, right? So we don’t have to pretend.”

“I know, it felt right and that wasn’t pretend.” You couldn’t help but blush.

TAGLIST:  

@panic-naran @galaxy-siren @madisonlupin @allonszassbutt @brilliantbellesoares @assemblemotherfuckers @emilysallysmith @darlingtholland

[hereticpriest]

Lockwood & Associates Chapter 1

Le Chiffre encounters a mysterious woman by the name of Delilah Lockwood at a hotel while he makes new connections.

Black Pigalle Follies Louboutin heels click across the marble floor, each step measured like a predator stalking its prey. A woman in a black chantilly lace and velvet Oscar de la Renta cocktail dress stops at the front desk, platinum blonde hair flowing down her back, and pushes up a pair of cat-eye sunglasses. Her eyes are cold, the same shade as an iceberg underwater.

“Ahh, Miss Lockwood. Welcome back.” The petite brunette behind the front desk smiled politely, sliding a keycard across the desk, and placing a small stack of packages and letters beside it, “Your mail, ma’am.”

Miss Lockwood takes the keycard, then puts the mail into her large Hermes bag and drops a couple of bills on the clean counter. The receptionist smiles again and takes the bills.

“Will that be all, Miss Lockwood?”

“My gym access is instated?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“The sauna as well, then?”

“Of course, Miss Lockwood.”

“Wonderful. Thank you, Maria. A bottle of George T. Stagg to my room. I will take dinner in the dining room, my usual table if you will. Steak frites and a molten lava cake for dessert, please, darling. The chef knows how I like it.”

“Of course, Miss Lockwood.”

The blonde turns on her heel and heads for the elevator, clocking an older gentleman watching her, but feigning obliviousness. When she arrives at her room, the bellboy has already brought her luggage up, along with the bottle of bourbon, crystal glasses and a silver briefcase with a number lock on it. She opens her suitcase and empties it into the dresser provided, then opens a compartment in the top and removes the contents. She verifies them, then returns them to their space, closing her suitcase and locking it again. She sets the briefcase on her night table, then opens her smaller suitcase and empties one half into the bathroom, and the other onto the end of the bed. A dress, heels, jewelry pouch and clutch.

Miss Lockwood finally opens the briefcase and removes a stunning dagger from one side, strapping a holster to her thigh and sliding the dagger into it. She closes and locks the briefcase, then takes her mail from her purse. The letters are invitations, and she drops both of them on her dresser without a care. One package contains a medical device that looks suspiciously like a gun, while the other contains several packs of sim cards and a burner phone. She puts the phone and cards into her purse, then presses the device to her arm and pulls the trigger. She doesn’t hiss at the injection, simply taps the injection site and discards the medical device back into the package it arrived in.

The woman leaves her suite barely fifteen minutes after arriving, her eyeliner retouched and a snake earcuff on her left ear. She enters the dining room, padding over to the table in the corner furthest from the door where her name is marked on a piece of cardstock.

Miss D. Lockwood

“Miss Lockwood, your meal. A gentleman at another table was inquiring about you and asked to buy you a drink, but I thought I’d verify with you first.” A waiter, middle-aged and dumpy, with a kind face and a polite smile approaches her table not long after she has sat down.

“Which gentleman?”

“Older fellow, but handsome. He’s at the table four up and two over, with a bald fellow and a brown-haired man. All in suits.” The waiter replies.

“Thank you. Would you be a dear and ask him to choose something for me? And he can bring it to me himself.”

“Of course, Miss Lockwood.”

“Thank you, Marc, was it?” The blonde confirms, holding out a bill which he takes gratefully.

“Yes, ma’am. Kind of you to remember.” Marc replies, and she smiles in return as he puts the bill in his apron and heads to the bar, then over to the table he’d been describing. She watches as the man puts a hand to his mouth for a moment, then speaks, and Marc nods and walks away. He places the drink in front of the man only a couple of minutes later, and the man thanks Marc before lifting the drink and turning around. Marc was right; he is handsome. His left eye is blue and scarred, but it adds to his character and she likes the contrast against his brown eye. He has sharp cheekbones and is well-groomed, his hair a lovely shade of peppering brown that she wants to run her fingers through.

“Miss Lockwood, a pleasure to meet you.” The man smiles like he may eat her, and she smiles back, enjoying the way his smile becomes more genuine when he recognizes a fellow predator, “Winter-spiced old fashioned.”

“Delilah, please. I believe I’ve heard of you. Le Chiffre? Interesting title.” Miss Lockwood holds out her hand for him and chuckles as he kisses her knuckles. She takes her drink and sips it, then smiles and indicates for him to sit with her, “Unless you need to go back to your… friends?”

He sits, and she wets her lips, then takes another sip of her drink. Her dinner arrives before she’s set the drink down, and she thanks Marc again for his service before returning her attention to Le Chiffre. She cuts the steak and lets out a happy sigh when she sees it is a perfect mid-rare. She takes a bite of one piece, then stabs another and offers it to her tablemate.

“Would you like a bite?”

“If you’re offering.” Le Chiffre replies with a cheeky smirk, taking the piece of steak and nodding as he chews and swallows, “Delicious. Thank you.”

Delilah takes a couple of frites on her fork and dips them in one of the three sauces provided, making an intrigued hum at the taste.

“Business or pleasure, Monsieur?”

“Can’t it be both?” He asks, and she smiles in return.

“I’m here for business, but I could use a little pleasure.” Delilah admits, eying his broad shoulders shamelessly.

“What sort of business?”

“Asset management and disposal.” Her smile is dangerous, and she sees the way he lights up. Clearly, she’s caught his interest. He’s lucky he’s not her target, because she would hate to disappoint him now. She’s about to slip her foot out of her heel and run it up his leg when he moves, sitting beside her. He offers her another piece of steak, smirking when she takes it obediently, his hand finding her thigh and gripping it tightly. He skims his hand up under her dress when she spreads her legs, and he isn’t very subtle about touching her through her underwear.

“My room is penthouse B. Don’t bring your friends.” She purrs in his ear, “Will I be seeing you at the game tonight?”

“Poker in the lounge? Of course.” His hand slips under her panties, fingers swiping through the wet heat of her cunt.

“Wonderful. May I distract you?”

“And how would you be distracting me?” Le Chiffre finds and circles her clit, but Delilah remains visually unaffected.

“You’ll see. Just say yes.”

“Yes.”

Delilah smirks, finishing her steak frites and her drink. She allows him to play a little longer before taking his hand away from her to lick one of his fingers clean. She guides the remaining two to his mouth, wetting her lips as he obeys and sucks them clean. She offers him her phone, and he obediently enters his number and texts her to get hers, jolting a bit with surprise when she lifts her napkin to wipe a tear of blood from his ruined eye.

“Would you like dessert? I’ve ordered lava cake.” Delilah offers, leaning happily into his grip when he runs his hand along her waist.

“I suppose a bite couldn’t hurt.”

“Oh, it certainly could.” The blonde offers her companion a wicked smile, and his answering grin shows he is impressed.

“Where have you been hiding?” Le Chiffre asks, and Delilah chuckles, offering Marc a warm smile when he brings her dessert and removes her dinner plate.

“Thank you, Marc.”

“You’re most welcome, Miss Lockwood.”

Delilah watches him go, then slices into her lava cake, beaming as the centre runs. Her dining partner takes a bit on a spoon and offers it to her, putting the spoon down while she swallows, and leaning in to kiss away the smear of chocolate on her lower lip. She allows it, hissing when he bites her lip rather hard, cupping his crotch just to sample the merchandise. She shares her lava cake with him, catching his associates watching them frequently, and offering them a wicked, dangerous smile that seemed to make them tense up. Good. They should be afraid of her.

“Monsieur Le Chiffre, I would advise you bring a clean bill of health or condoms to the lounge.” Miss Lockwood gestures for him to move when she’s finished her dessert, and he does, politely helping her up.

“Of course, Miss Lockwood.” He doesn’t seem surprised by her forwardness, and he tips her head back for a kiss before she leaves. Delilah breaks the kiss quickly, moving away before he can lean in for another, and heading back towards her room. She showers, pampering herself with body scrubs and an expensive lotion, drying her hair while her the lotion sank in. She styles her hair into waves of platinum, then changes into the dress laid out on her bed and steps into the heels. Her dress is form-fitting and short, a shimmery navy little thing with a sweetheart neckline and no sleeves. Her heels are lace Louboutins covered in crystals, and her jewelry is silver, with diamonds in the earrings and necklace. They’re delicate pieces, but intricate and beautiful, a web of silver across her chest and dangling from her ears. She puts her phone, burner, spare sims, and money clip in her purse, then descends to the lounge.

Le Chiffre is already at the table when she arrives, and she smirks when he looks at her. She circles the table, leaning against his back and putting her arms around his shoulders, placing kisses from his ear to his pulse. Delilah bites his ear, then slides into his lap and grinds her ass into his crotch. His hands grip her hips, and he lays a firm kiss on her shoulder, kissing up to her ear.

“If you sit, you’ve got to stay here until the end of the game. I don’t want to be accused of cheating, darling.” He whispers in her ear, and she smiles at him over her shoulder.

“Of course. I’ll stay right where I am.” Delilah grins, twisting in his lap just a little so she could kiss him, “You got what I asked for?”

He shimmies a bit to get his phone from his pocket, showing her clean records from his annual two weeks prior. She beams, nipping at his neck and kissing her way up to his ear.

“If you win, I’ll let you do whatever you want with me tonight. If you lose, I’m going to do whatever I want with you. Deal?” she purrs, which earns her a confident smirk.

“You’re betting against me and you’re not even playing?”

“I’m making a bet where everyone wins, regardless of who loses, darling. If I were making actual stakes, we’d be having a very different conversation.” Delilah smiled, looking around the room for a moment before spotting a man with a blonde crew cut and muscles for days. She grinned, kissing the point of Le Chiffre’s cheek and slipping from his lap, dancing out of the way of his attempts to grab her back to him.

“I’ll be back in just a second, darling. Business.” She purrs, and he relaxes, watching her while he waits for the table to with players. Delilah steps up to the bar, running her hand over his arm, and he walks with her to a side room after only a bit of chatting. She returns five minutes later without the man, and her hair a little messy. Not much, but enough that Le Chiffre caught it. When she returns to him, he pulls her into his lap and carefully fixes her hair under the guise of playing with her hair as he kisses her. Delilah responds happily, kissing him deeply, all tongue and teeth and quiet hums of approval. The dealer huffs and attempts to interrupt them, and Delilah turns an icy glare on him but shifts in Le Chiffre’s lap to give him space to play.

The game is interesting, especially since her paramour is a far better player than the others. He’s brilliant, and he knows it, so Delilah evens things out by occasionally nipping at his ear, grinding her ass down into his crotch, or whispering to him about all of the things she wants him to do to her. He pretends to ignore her, but she can always tell when he’s distracted because he shifts his legs beneath her. Despite her attempts to make it more difficult for him, he wins. Easily.

“Monsieur Le Chiffre, please come to my suite when you’re done collecting your winnings.” Delilah purrs, departing with a final kiss to his cheek. She makes a call, and the only thing she says is ‘It’s done, picture to follow’ before hanging up. She sends the picture, then removes the sim card and replaces it with a new one. As she passes a black-haired man in the hallway, she hands him a key without stopping, and then she rides the elevator up to her penthouse with a smug grin on her face. Popping the bottle of bourbon, she pours herself a glass and downs it, then pours another and sets it on her bedside table. Stretching out on her luxurious bed, Delilah Lockwood takes a sip of her bourbon and turns on the tv to watch something while she waits for her paramour.

[james-bucky-barnackle]

Two Night Stand (Part 10)

Synopsis: (AU) You found yourself at a club drinking away to forget about the stress of your shitty job as the assistant of the biggest Editor in New York, and end up hooking up with the man of your dreams only to wake up to a nightmare when you find out he’s the son of your boss.

PART 9 | 2NS Masterlist

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: idk something a lil wild

Word Count: 3,252

A/N: I want to be friends with other fanfic writers :( I’m giving Bucky the screen time he deserves on Part 11, I’m really sorry I love u 

I feel slightly relieved to have finished getting ready and am now sitting next to Winnie in the back of the car. With her being her usual looming self, I pull my phone out and finally find the courage to read the texts Bucky sent earlier. “At the park, wish you were here.” I scroll through another, “Can I drop by your place later?” and another, “I miss you.”

I’m trying to suppress a smile, knowing his mom is right beside me. The both of us are waiting for Vision who’s our main driver for tonight, and well, every night to be honest. I look at my wrist watch, Bucky’s probably five minutes away from the airport ready to pick up the twins. I realize I forgot to inform Wanda about the sudden switch when my phone vibrates. I peek at Winnie who’s occupied on her iPad and I answer the call, apologizing to her before I do.

“Where are you?! I’m already with Pietro!” Wanda doesn’t waste her time.

“Y/N!” I hear Pietro shout in the background.

“About that... I can’t make it, but-”

“You can’t make it? You forgot, didn’t you? I just told you this morning. Who’s going to drive us?” I turn my head closer to the door, maybe I should get out the car. Oh, Vision’s already out the door, I guess I’m going to continue whispering and hope Winnie doesn’t get annoyed.

“I didn’t forget! Okay, I might’ve. But I got it, someone’s already there to pick you guys up.”

“And who might that be? You know I don’t trust ubers.”

“He’s not an uber.”

“Who?!” Is she really asking me? How do I tell her it’s Bucky, without telling his name? I’m pretty sure I don’t need to turn the phone on speaker for Winnie to hear the whole conversation, seeing as how Wanda is too frustrated.

“You know! It’s-” Bucky.

“Who?”

“Wanda, you’re ridiculous. He drives a-” wait a second, Winnie probably knows what her son drives. “A car.”

“Brilliant description, I completely trust you to describe the suspect when you witness me getting murdered.” Winnie interrupts me, eyes still on her device.

“Who’s gonna pick us up Y/N?”

“You know Ja-ah- Bu--- JB…” Winnie whips her head at me, I suddenly panic. “Justin Beaver.” I continue, and face Winnie, putting my hand on the receiver, “it’s my friend’s bachelorette party, JB is the stripper’s name I hired for her.” Where the hell did that come from?

“Do I look like I care? Finish that phone call quick. It’s draining my brain cells.” Winnie responds.

“Right.” I say.

“Justin Beaver? Stripper? What the hell is going on? Y/N?” Wanda interjects.

“Wanda, you buffoon, you know who JB is. The JB from last night - and every night, you know, JB.” I’m really embarrassed about this, what is happening?

“Oh! That JB. I get it now. So, where is he?” Wanda suddenly calms down.

“I’ll text him, your number so he can call you when he gets there.”

“Okay. But I’m still mad at you for forgetting.”

“I’ll make it up to you when I get home.”

“You better.” I drop the call and text Bucky… JB, Wanda’s number telling him to call her when he gets there. Amazing, now my boss and our driver thinks I hang out with a stripper every night.

When we get to the venue, it’s spunky, music from the 2000’s playing in the background, I try to hide my amusement, I feel like I’m a youngin bopping to T-Pain. Winnie rolls her eyes and proceeds to walk as I follow her. The benefit was organized by the students of the Fashion Institute with the theme revolving around RnB, and I have no complaints. I’m surprised we even came, if Winnie knew this was how the whole thing was gonna be, I doubt she even would’ve RSVP’d. We proceed to her table and sit down, and I scan the crowd for anyone approaching, making sure I prep Winnie on their backgrounds before engaging in conversation.

Winnie’s smile is beautiful, she should win an Oscar for this acting alone. Our table of ten is slowly getting filled leaving two chairs, one on each our sides. I scan the people on the table as Winnie converses with them on matters I have no idea on, and it registers to me that the seat is for George Barnes. I excuse myself from the table and I walk to the organizer posted near the entrance.

“Hi, can I ask who responded no, on table one?” I say and the young man shuffles through the sheets on his clipboard.

“Table one, one -- Barnes, George. That all?” I nod slowly at his query.

“Thanks,” I reply turning my body to head back to my table. It’s not my job to make him come, but I feel a little bad for my boss and think that two weeks from now, I wouldn’t feel anything about it, nor know of any solution to fill that seat.

When I get back to the table, I see Steve sitting on the seat next to Winnie. He gives a small wave when he sees me, just as Winnie glances among the other people in the table. I give him a quick smile before taking my seat. Winnie’s in an ongoing conversation with one of the elders at the table, she can’t help but respond considering she’s a lot older than my boss is.

“Nice to hear both the Barnes men are back in New York.” her wrinkled lips painted a ghastly magenta. “How long has it been?”

“A year, Cecil.” Winifred quipped keeping it short. I pore over Cecil, stop asking my boss. I haven’t been working for Winnie that long. How did she manage living alone in that house for a year?

“Is George not coming tonight?” Her tone playful.

“He’s busy with work, how’s the divorce coming, Cecil?” My eyes grow wide at Winnie’s response, Cecil became suddenly mute. Steve swoops in and changes the conversation as the staff start serving food. He and Winnie get into a very deep conversation about his and her son’s latest project venture, and I continue chewing on my food. I wonder how Bucky’s doing? I hope Wanda and Pietro aren’t causing him too much trouble. I text him and ask him, I’ll probably need to call him later.

One of the performers start singing on stage and the lights are dimmed down, warm light focused only on each table as we eat our dinner. The singer’s voice is sultry and beautiful, it’s amazing how her voice sounds like a perfect record. People have started standing up and dancing, slowly swaying to the beat. A romantic jive of rhythm, I smile when Steve asks Winnie to dance. She’s reluctant at first, but eventually agrees. Among the people on the dancefloor are Tony and Pepper, nodding politely at Winnie’s direction when they see her.

I continue munching on my food, hiding in my little space when I feel a tap on my shoulder, it’s one of the staff, with a bouquet in hand. I look at Winnie, George might actually have changed his mind.

“Is this for Winifred Barnes?” I ask, picking up the flowers.

“No Ma’am, it’s for you.” Oh, so maybe it’s from Bucky? I don’t think this is a good idea, giving me flowers in a crowded room.

“From who?” I ask and the waiter moves a little to his left to reveal the sender. The tall meaty long-haired blond, I despise so much. He waves and smiles at me, and I raise both my eyebrows and mutter an “oh,” gently lifting it up and giving a fake smile as a sign of thanks, then I shake my head. I give it back to the waiter.

“Thanks, but tell him – no thanks.” I say as he confusingly accepts the bouquet back. Before he could walk back to Thor’s table, he’s already halfway near mine.

“She’ll take that,” he says when he’s within earshot. I roll my eyes and rest my elbow on the backrest of my chair.

“I won’t,” I smile at the waiter.

“She will,” Thor sputters, nodding.

“Nooo, I won’t.” the waiter sways himself left and right not knowing where to give it.

“But you love flowers.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” I say and he quirks an eyebrow. “But not these flowers,” I continue as I push the waiter lightly in his direction.

“Why not?” he pushes him back to me.

“Because these flowers are from you.” I push the waiter back.

“Take the damn flowers,” I hear an elderly woman in my table shout, it’s probably Cecil.

“I would, but I won’t. You can take them though.” I beam at Thor.

“Yeah, y-you really should, Ma’am. I’d like to be out of this situation.” The waiter interrupts.

“Good idea!” I grab the flowers and hand it to Cecil. She happily accepts and hugs it like a baby.

“Hey!” Thor loudly whispers, I give him a shrug and the waiter takes the opportunity to escape.

“Can I get the man too?”

“Why yes, Cecil. You can get him too.” I say turning back to see her blushing.

“Y/N, I need to talk to you.”

“What is it?” I respond, my back turned.

“Outside.”

“What a request.”

“Please?”

“For Pete’s sake, talk to him! Or I will.” Oh Cecil, I honestly have no problem with you talking to this man.

“Y/N, please.”

“Go. Away.” As I say this, I see Steve and Winnie coming back to our table, and I feel relieved. Now Thor can’t bother me.

“Thor Odinson!” Winnie greets him, what?!

“Winifred,” he smiles and they hug. Steve stands behind her, smiling at him. Okay, at least Steve doesn’t know him. What a leech.

“What are you doing at our table?” I hear Winnie say, and I huff – what reason could he possibly say?

“I’m here to talk to your lovely assistant, apparently I’m having a hard time hearing her response.” I whip my head at him, the audacity.

“I told him, you were on the dancefloor, that he should wait until you came back.” I say looking into his eyes.

“As much as I’d love to converse with you Winnie, I’m very curious to talk to Y/N,”  how confident has he gotten? How is he so sure Winnie would even let me-

“What are you waiting for, Y/L/N? Get up.” Winnie commands. What the hell just happened?

“Thank you, Winifred.”

“I don’t think she wants to though, pal.” Steve interjects. I silently thank him.

“She does,” Winnie peeks at Steve then back at Thor. ”I should be thanking you, poor girl doesn’t have a life outside the office. Here she is thinking she’s too big for a supermodel.” Ouch? That stung. Steve’s face is etched with concern, but he gives me an apologetic smile. “Thor, I’d love to see you on the cover of The View, soon.”

“Wonderful, I look forward to it.” Thor nods then offers a hand to me, I ignore it and push my chair back, hitting him before standing up. I hear Thor wince and see Steve smirking, I wrinkle my nose at him.  

Thor walks me to a balcony, leaving the loudness of the benefit muffled behind us. There are only few people on the balcony with us, mostly smokers and having conversations of their own.

“I don’t see why you need me seeing as how Winnie’s already fond of you. You can stop sleeping your way to the top.” I say before he says anything, he looks appalled and I’m fairly satisfied.

“Y/N, it’s not that.”

“Then what is it? Make it quick, I don’t have time for leeches.”

“I want to apologize for what happened to us.”

“Is that all? Are we done?”

“You’re not hearing me out.”

“Yes, I am, Thor. You don’t just come and talk to me for no reason. There is always a reason, I know you’re not apologizing to me because of your morale.”

“Y/N, I really am sorry. I didn’t mean for those things to happen, we were so good together.”

“Were we?” I respond in a sing song voice. This is all a business deal, as far as I know.

“We were, we had fun times. I picked you up from work every day and then you’d drop by my castings and cheer me on like the greatest girlfriend you were, then we’d grab pizza at your favorite place. Everything was simple.” Times with him back then were simple, and they were comfortable. I thought I was secure, turns out he had bigger dreams and no care on how he gets it.

“Where are you getting at? Simple doesn’t suit your current image. Are you getting married to Jane? Is that it? Are you apologizing to all your exes before you tie the knot? Because if that’s what this is, then yes I forgive you, okay? Can I go now?” I didn’t expect to see him smile at what I said.

“I broke up with Jane.”

“Hold up, what?!”

“When I saw you at McDonald’s the other day, I just knew it wasn’t right.” I have a hard time taking him serious at the word McDonald’s. “I didn’t realize how much I missed you.”

“You are insane,”

“I am, I know that.”

“Come to the fashion ball with me.”

“I’m in a relationship, Thor.”

“With who? I don’t see you posting any photos online. Who could be better than me?” Is he really asking me this? I laugh, oh mister.

“You don’t even wanna know.” My lips turn up, he’s way better than you.

“Oh, I do.”

“You don’t.” Gosh I want to punch this guy; his ego is off the roof. That’s when I realize what this is. “You’re going to use me again. Come to the fashion ball with you? Why? Because Jane doesn’t work in the same industry? Leave me alone, Thor.” I start walking away and he grabs my arm, I pull back and his grip tightens.

“Why do you say that?”

“Because I’ve known you long enough to.”

“Please, Y/N.” He pleads.

“Thor, you’re hurting me.”

“I’m not using you. I really do miss you.”

“You just made yourself from douche to creepy real quick, Thor. Let. Me. Go.” It’s official, I’m going to break his wrist off. I don’t care how hard it’s gonna be with his size, I’m going to.

“Hey there cowboy, I think she doesn’t want to talk to you.” I hear someone behind me and when I look, I’m surprised to see her wink back at me. It’s Dolores. “Let her go.” Dolores’ height is towering over me, Thor only a few inches taller. He lets me go and before he can even say anything, she cuts him off. “Leave, before I scream and the photographers get their hands on their biggest paycheck yet.”

Thor closes his eyes for a brief moment, breathing heavy before leaving. I wrap my hand around the wrist he was holding, feeling a little pain.

“Who was that guy? Can’t really have everything huh? He’s cute but he’s got the attitude of a high school jock.” Dolores chuckles, drinking her glass of champagne.

“Yeah, thanks.”

“Hey, I know you.” My eyebrows perch up. “I saw you in Winnie’s office.” Oh, thank god, I thought it was something else.

“I’m her assistant.”

“Oh, I see. I’m Dolores, by the way.”

“Yes, I know you. I’m Y/N.”

“Cool name. Where you seated?”

“At table one,” I smile.

“Of course, Winnie always has the best seats.”

“Which reminds me, I need to get back. Thank you for saving me earlier.” I can’t believe this is the same woman who came with her aunt the other day.

“I’ll walk with you, can’t have that barbaric blond hollering around.”

“You don’t have to,” I laugh.

“Nah, it’s fine. I’m on my way back to my table too anyway.”

 Half an hour had passed and Winnie finally wants to head home. I’m sick and tired of this place, my run in with Thor earlier only ruined my night. Winnie didn’t seem to care, but that might be because I tried my best to look normal. I’m glad she didn’t ask me about Thor, or how he even knew me. I doubt she even cares, she was probably just bored. I called Vision and am now getting in the car with her. The whole ride is silent, as usual, but more so because I still can’t get my annoyance from earlier. I hate him. Who was he to think he could just come back and ask me anything again, after all he’s done. Vision drops Winnie first, and I instantly feel ten times more tired than I actually was when she gets out the vehicle. I drift off into sleep the moment we set for my place. Vision’s voice wakes me up from my slumber and I hastily pick up my things and exit. I thank him and he drives off into the night. I can’t wait to get some sleep. I’ve been up since 5AM this morning.

Slowly ascending the steps, my eyes are already failing me, I’m blinking myself awake. A few more steps and I’ll be in my bed, my sweet, sweet bed. When I finally reach the door, I shuffle through my bag, looking for my keys and not one second passes, I already quit and proceed to knocking. I yawn, and click my tongue. I finally hear the door knob turning and I rest on it, ready to fall in Wanda’s arms when she opens the door.

When it opens, I let myself fall and I’m immediately caught. Wow, Wanda feels a little bigger and stronger. I look up and I see a pair of blue eyes looking at me, expression clearly entertained. “Hey doll.”

“Oh my gosh,” I blink still enveloped in his arms. “Why are you here?”

“Not even a thank you?” My cheeks heat up, I feel guilty.

“I’m sorry. Thank you,” I whisper, lifting myself a little higher to kiss his cheek, and he chuckles. “Thank you for picking up the twins for me.”

“Sure thing, doll.” I hug him tighter and snuggle my head on his chest, my body completely limb. He’s really strong, I can’t stand up any longer. “Okay! Maybe we should get you to bed.”

“Where are they?”

“They’re out.”

“It’s already late. Why did they leave you here alone?”

“Baby, it’s only 9:30.” Mmm baby.

“What?”

“Yes,” he says kissing my forehead. “Come on, you need to sleep.” I loosen my grip on him and find balance for my feet on the ground so I can start walking to my room, when Bucky scoops me up and carries me. He laughs at my reaction, and I quickly recover, lacing my one arm around his neck as he starts walking. “Have you been drinking?”

“No, this is how I am when I’m tired.” I whisper closely to his ear, and trail kisses on his jaw. Bucky looks amused and shakes his head, pushing the door open with his feet. He gently places me on the bed and I reach for him. “Bucky.”

“What is it?” He says as he takes my shoes off. Holy crap, I really like this guy.

“Can you stay?” I slide my arm across the sheet like I’m making one wing off a snow angel.

“Oh, Doll.”

PART 11

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[pvrestwolff]

---- that's right, pleased to meet you, i still won't tell you my name. don't you believe in mystery? don't you want to play my game?

trident’s task 005; character questionnaire number two.

---- basic character questions

first name? ekaterina. surname? kashkanov-zamolochikova-markovy. ( usually just goes by markovy as a last name ) middle names? mikhailovna aliena. nicknames? erica, kat, kati, katya, nina and kitten. date of birth? eleventh of january, nineteen eighty-eight. age? thirty years old.

---- physical / appearance

height? 5′4″ weight? 135lbs, but has lost muscle and weight since being on the island. build? slim, slight and lean. hair color? honey brown. hair style? thin and soft but abundant, naturally curly, normally sits a little longer than shoulder length but has gone uncut since being on the island. eye color? blue with a hazel ring around the pupil. eye shape? almond/round. glasses or contact lenses? both. distinguishing facial features? eyes, lips, cheekbones, jawline. which facial feature is most prominent? eyes. which bodily feature is most prominent? biceps. other distinguishing features? hands, legs, waist, tattoos. skin? tan/olive. hands? slender palm, long fingers. make up? concealer and foundation with a nude lip and simple eyeliner for everyday use, concealer, foundation, highlighter and contour with a bright red or pink lip, complementary colours of eyeshadow and dramatic eyeliner for functions, parties, appearances or photoshoots. scars? straight, deep cuts all across her body at varying angles from sword-fighting practice that have faded to be near unnoticeable, a scar from a switchblade she copped while trying to protect charlie, scars across her knuckles from punching either a face or a bag too hard and splitting the skin, and small indents from chicken pox when she was a child. birthmarks? a mark on her forearm that is similarly shaped to a rabbit; she shares the mark with her mother. tattoos? a tiger on her left middle finger, a butterfly on the back of her neck, four birds on her left forearm, a sun and two stars behind her right ear, a tree on the right of her torso and hermes wings on the outsides of both her ankles, the word “cariad” in looping script, on the left the side of her ribs. physical handicaps? short sightedness and astigmatisms. type of clothes? neat blouses, skirts, heels, vests, a jacket, comfortable pants and the heaviest boots she can find. how do they wear their clothes? fitted if they are for show, for function if they are not. what are their feet like? her feet are well taken care of, has calloused balls and heels from dancing and running barefoot. usually wears comfortable and clean socks with whatever boots she can find that are wearable, even if they are a little too large. will wear heels for a party, however. race / ethnicity? caucasian ( russian, belarusian ) and ashkenazi jewish. mannerisms? miming out piano scales on surfaces while she is thinking, stretching her hands, tapping her thumb and middle finger together, tapping her foot to an imaginary beat, furrowing her brow while reading, tracing her fingertips over the lines of her visible tattoos. are they in good health? yes, for the time being. do they have any disabilities? borderline personality disorder.

---- personality

what words or phrases do they overuse? “i am fine.”, ”shut up.“, “idiot/pizdabol'.”, “fuck/kurva.”, “whore, slut, bitch/bliadz’.”, “fucking whore/kurva piardolanaja.”, “bastard/bajstruk.”, “no,”, “fuck you.”. there are many more and they are all offensive. do they have a catchphrase? “no.” or “fuck you.”. are they more optimistic or pessimistic? both. are they introverted or extroverted? both. do they ever put on airs? without a doubt. ekaterina is incredibly good at acting or pretending to be someone she is not, or feeling what she is not. what bad habits do they have? catastrophising, focusing on details, smoking tobacco and weed, drinking alcohol and coffee, swearing (though she doesn’t consider it a bad habit), needing to know everything, pursuing activities or people that she knows are bad for her. what makes them laugh out loud? children falling and completely eating shit, instant karma, dark and morbid humour, shakespeare’s comedies acted well. how do they display affection? ekaterina does not like PDA, usually. part of her enjoys the idea of a little PDA in order to make it known who belongs to her. in private, however, ekaterina is much more affectionate, and she can act extremely different. if they are new to it, she might touch someone on the chest or arm, perhaps even caress their jaw, but if she is well acquainted, she might straighten out their clothes, trace over their skin, neaten up their hair and brush locks out of their eyes, hold their hands, hug them and if they happen to be lying down, she might bury her face in their neck or hand while holding them. it very much depends on who it is she is showing affection for. mental handicaps? borderline personality disorder. minor depression. obsessive-compulsive tendencies, sociopathic tendencies. how do they want to be seen by others? ekaterina truly wants to be someone that people fear or respect, as she knows deep down that she is the kind of person who could do something earth-shattering if she set her mind to it. she wants to be seen as strong, unfailing, reliable, mysterious, perfect and perhaps even unattainable. how do they see themselves? the furthest thing from desirable, and as a truly evil creature. how are they seen by others? probably as an angry, mean yet just person who will fight anyone who sets her off. strongest character trait? determination. weakest character trait? intrapersonal emotional intelligence. how competitive are they? extremely. ekaterina is the type that wants to win everything, even if winning does not mean anything. do they make snap judgements or take time to consider? it depends on the situation. if she is bombarded, she won’t take the time to ponder, but if she is far more at ease, she tends to allow discovery before she judges. how do they react to praise? sometimes awkwardly, sometimes she will brush it off and other times, she will gladly accept it. how do they react to criticism? that depends on what someone is criticising her on. if it is her personality or who she is as a person, she will snap on them, but if it is about something that she does, she can accept it. as long as it’s constructive. what is their greatest fear? rejection, failure, losing her loved ones and being totally alone. what are their biggest secrets? she murdered a man when she was fourteen to save charlie’s life, she has killed other despicable people while in league with the belarusian mafia, she enjoys torturing people that have done abhorrent things, and takes special pleasure in drawing out their deaths so that they suffer until the last second. on a lighter note, she had a two long year secret relationship with grace ( that people still are not aware of ), she slept with luka ( several times ), and they have still not yet told his friend, the other prince who vied for her attention. she knows that the guilt weighs on them both but they have chosen to not speak of it. and finally, she is intensely attracted to roman tulach. ( @gunnerflanagan​, @classiciisms,​ @luka-rossi​, @roman-tulach​ ) what is their philosophy of life? talk less, smile more. don’t let them know what you’re against or what you’re for. when was the last time they cried? when she realised that charlie was both alive and well, and now a pirate. what haunts them? a few nights in her lifetime where she was coerced into sexual acts while she was not sober and had not properly consented. the mornings after those encounters ekaterina felt as if she could say nothing to anyone and so has kept it to herself, giving her a warped impression of her value, and the death of her cousin, lorne dùghlas. she had been rather close with him, given their similar ages and it broke her heart to learn about his murder. what are their political views? she is a liberal in some aspects, but has slowly been losing faith in the current ideology the world shares since she was thrust into meetings and talks that her mother insisted she learn about. when it comes to running a country with absolute monarchy, she does not agree, and believes that the people need a voice as well. what will they stand up for? justice above all else, no matter the cost. who do they quote? niccolò di bernardo dei machiavelli, william shakespeare, friedrich wilhelm nietzsche, socrates, rené descartes, george orwell, f. scott fitzgerald, joseph conrad, vincent van gogh, oscar wilde, albert einstein, mae west, dr seuss ( yes, look up his quotes ), marilyn monroe. are they indoorsy or outdoorsy? both. what is their sinful little habit? a drug-fuelled orgy or murder seems a little obvious, so perhaps it is her pining for and silent flirting with either ex-lovers, or taken/unattainable people that she quietly adores. what sense do they most rely on? instinct. how do they treat people better than them? as long as they treat her with respect, she will do the same. how do they treat people worse than them? as long as they treat her with respect, she will do the same. what quality do they most value in a friend? loyalty and patience. what do they consider an overrated virtue? purity or honesty. if they could change one thing about themselves, what would it be? ekaterina is the kind of person that would change everything about herself if she could, but she would never truly be happy, and continue to change each aspect on a whim, eventually losing all that used to make her, her. what is their obsession? absolute perfection, blades, lingerie, leather, literature. what are their pet peeves? when people chew with their mouth open; ignorance; stupidity, unreliability; self-centredness; being used for her status; people who expect respect when they have not earned nor given it; people who complain to complain; people who corrupt their morals for material gain; people who tell her to speak in english if she is speaking in one of her mother tongues; people who dog ear books to bookmark their page. what are their idiosyncrasies? when observing a fight, she will add in comments to fuel the anger between whoever is arguing in order to turn it into a brawl; smoothing out dog ears on pages in books; continually adjusting her glasses ( when she has them ); chewing on the end of the pencil or pen she uses to journal or document things; arranging objects on a surface so they are straight and line up with each other.

---- friends and family

is their family big or small? who does it consist of? her family is quite large, including three royal branches. the markovy family adds six members; her mother, her father, ekaterina, nikolai and her two middle siblings; the nikolaevna family adds another six; her aunt, her uncle, tatiana and her three younger siblings; the dùghlas family adds another seven; her aunt, her uncle, ainsley, her three older brothers and one older sister; also included would be her paternal grandparents, her grandmother on that side being her babushka, her maternal grandparents, all of that brings the total up to twenty four known relatives, alive or deceased. ( @nikolaimarkovy, @tatiana-nikolaevna, @hrhxainsley ) what is their perception of family? ekaterina would give anything for her family, and that is the utter truth. no matter the request, no matter the risk, she would do whatever they asked of her; family is extremely important to her. do they have siblings? older or younger? ekaterina is the eldest of four, with two sisters in the middle, and a brother, nikolai, the youngest. describe their best friend. over the years, the title of best friend has changed hands many times, though she can confidently say that her brother is one of her closest friends and  regardless of who else may hold when she was younger, it was her father ( whom she still calls her daddy in an innocent way despite the fact that she’s thirty ); then the second eldest ukrainian royal; it fell to charlie while she was in paris; after that, she floated about without many friends to speak of, none of them coming close to that connection. in fact, it is her cousins and siblings who were often her best friends in that period of time. however, after a personal bodyguard was hired for her and they began to bond, she considered him her best friend; of course, all of those were ex-best friends, in the kindest of meanings. when she met lola through mutual connections, she felt as if she had found someone who she could truly call a friend again, and as they bonded, she became more and more attached. the island has only strengthened their relationship, and she would consider lola to be her best friend now. though, it is starting to feel as if the fine line between friend and possible lover is becoming exceedingly blurred. ( @lola-gutierrez ) ideal best friend? ekaterina likes a best friend who can challenge her, but also show patience in the face of her mental and emotional struggles. she wants to be able to trust her best friend with confidence, and for them to be there for her as she would be for them. describe their other friends. it would be safe to say that her friends are people like nikolai, luka, charlie, tatiana, ainsley, nael, grace, ottavio. ( @princenaelxdlf, @ottavioxrossi ) describe their acquaintances. carlos, oliver, rhys, and roman ( though it is more attraction than an alliance/acquaintanceship ) ( @blueblxod, @first-mate-sebastian, @rhys-tclford ) do they have any pets? two dogs; daisy, a maltese shih-tzu and jay, a labrador kelpie. who are their natural allies? her family, grace, charlie, lola, people who believe in justice, and people who do not jeopardise the safety of others through impulsivity. who are their surprising allies? i mean, this one has to be roman tulach.

---- past and future

what was your character like as a baby? as a child? ekaterina rarely cried as a baby, only gazing up at her parents with her now well-known big, blue intense eyes. as child, however, she was very selfish and upset when she could not see her parents due to their royal commitments. she still holds resentment for that fact. did they grow up rich or poor? very, very rich. did they grow up nurtured or neglected? neglected. her parents were not there for her formative years, though her father seems to be only one of the two who regrets that. what is the most offensive thing they ever said? from what she can recall, it was: “call us fags once more and i will shove david’s star up your cunt.” it was said to a female orthodox preacher who harassed her and a girl she had taken out to dinner as they walked by holding hands, both for being gay and for being jewish. what is their greatest achievement? managing to maintain a semi-normal relationship for as long as she did with grace and reducing crimes in belarus through deals with members of organised criminal syndicates. what was their first kiss like? like fireworks. they’d been running through a cobblestreet alleyway to avoid her bodyguards when ekaterina tripped and scraped both of her knees, causing her to yelp in pain and scoot away from the line of sight down the path. in an attempt to distract her from the pain, charlie kissed her. she’d wanted him to kiss her for a long time and although it was clumsy and awkward, as most first kisses are, she wouldn’t have changed a thing about it. what is the worst thing they did to someone they loved? she turned luka on his best friend as both of them fought for her affections, eventually sleeping with luka and keeping it a secret from his friend to avoid adding fuel to the fire. truthfully, she wanted both of them, and still wishes she could have had a night with the other prince. she also distanced herself from grace after their break-up because of her own pride and stubbornness. what are their ambitions? true freedom, and to make an impact on the world and never be forgotten. what advice would they give their younger self? bad times will always come with the good, but do not let what happens to you define who you become. what smells remind them of their childhood? the smell of books, old and new, from her father’s library. what was their childhood ambition? to make an impact on the world and never be forgotten. what is their best childhood memory? when she was finally allowed to take up sword-fighting as a hobby. what is their worst childhood memory? the first time she was announced officially as heir to the throne and had to give a speech to the public. did they have an imaginary childhood friend? no. when was the last time they were crushed with disappointment? when she realised that charlie had become a pirate. what past act are they most ashamed of? she turned luka on his best friend as both of them fought for her affections, eventually sleeping with luka and keeping it a secret from his friend to avoid adding fuel to the fire; she also regrets reacting so harshly toward grace during and after their break-up. what past act are they most proud of? saving charlie’s life. has anyone ever saved their life? her personal bodyguard was stabbed before, when a girl rushed her at a club. she is still forever grateful for his actions. strongest childhood memory? lying awake and listening to her father read her stories/sing to her.

---- love

do they believe in love at first sight? no. are they in a relationship? technically yes. she is betrothed, though she does not consider it a relationship. how do they behave in a relationship? usually the same as she does out of one. there just happens to be more sex and more emotion to it. when did you character last have sex? god only knows. SHE NEEDS IT THOUGH. what sort of sex do they have? all kinds. she enjoys slow, gentle sex but also loves rough, animalistic sex, and enjoys incorporating BDSM into her encounters. has your character ever been in love? yes, with charlie and grace. have they ever had their heart broken? yes, by charlie and grace.

---- conflict

how do they respond to a threat? usually with defensive action. are they most likely to fight with their fists or their tongue? both. what is your character’s kryptonite? grace, someone who can match her mind games like roman, strawberries on pancakes, or someone she loves crying. if your character could only save one thing from their burning house, what would it be? it would depend on what’s inside. likely her dogs, or her family if they were still trapped. how do they perceive strangers? as strangers. she does not judge until she learns a few things about them. what do they love to hate? herself. what are their phobias? autophobia, atychiphobia, atelophobia. what is their choice of weapon? knives, swords, guns, fists, or anything she can find. what living person do they most despise? she has killed most of the people she truly despises. have they ever been bullied or teased? yes. where do they go when they’re angry? usually to her private space so that she can be alone, lest she be provoked into a physical altercation. who are their enemies and why? anyone who stands in the way of her goals, anyone who is despicable enough to commit crimes like rape, child abuse, human trafficking and nazis.

---- work, education and hobbies

what is their current job? crown princess, heir to the belarusian throne, grand duchess of vitebsk, killer for hire. what do they think about their current job? she does not particularly enjoy being royalty nor being the heir though she knows she has no say in it. she does, however, love the vigilante justice that comes with killing horrible people. what are some of their past jobs? none. what are their hobbies? exercising, fencing, martial arts, fighting, reading, playing piano, exploration, sketching, creating/using ciphers for her journals, assassinations and murder. educational background? has a masters degree in history of piracy with a minor in cryptography. intelligence level? 135 IQ, superior intelligence. do they have any specialist training? yes. fencing, martial arts, sword-fighting, gun-handling, cryptography, cartography, scuba diving, basic latin, history, history of piracy, etiquette, ballroom dancing. do they have a natural talent for something? strategy and leading. do they play a sport? are they any good? yes; fencing, sword-fighting, lacrosse and cross-country running. she trains intensely in order to excel in the sports she attempts. what is their socioeconomic status? upper, royal.

---- favourites

what is their favorite animal? a tiger, or a bird. which animal to they dislike the most? she doesn’t loathe any animal, but spiders are not exactly on her favourites list. what place would they most like to visit? the parts of the world that she has not yet seen. what is the most beautiful thing they’ve ever seen? the ocean. what is their favorite song? la vie en rosie by édith piaf or dream a little dream of me by the mamas and the papas. music, art, reading preferred? all. what is their favorite color? purple. what is their password? usually something unguessable, but she won’t tell you what it is. favorite food: strawberries and pancakes. what is their favorite work of art? the creation of adam by michelangelo simply for the scientific secrets within it or the birth of venus by sandro botticelli for the same reasons. who is their favorite artist? antoni gaudí i cornet, leonardo da vinci ( if only for his similar approach to coding his work ), vincent van gogh. what is their favorite day of the week? thursdays.

---- possessions

what is in their fridge: usually a lot of fruit and vegetables, yoghurts, basic ingredients for meals, white wine, prosecco and vodka-- but usually not anything filled with sugar. what is on their bedside table? a book or three, a glass of wine, phone charger, watch charger, remote, a jewellery box that holds her ‘engagement’ ring for her betrothal, the ring from her previous arrangement and her family’s signet ring. there was a frame photo of herself and grace there before, but it was put it in her forgotten box. what is in their car? not much, usually a bottle of water. what is in their bin? crumpled up codes, sketches, old receipts, what is in their purse or wallet? in her wallet: her id, her credit cards, business cards and numbers to call, photographs of her family, a small amount of money and international sim cards for when she travels outside the country. in her bag/purse: her phone, her wallet, a deck of cigarettes, a small flask of whiskey, a lighter, a pen, a taser, make up for touch ups, her passport. what is in their pockets? usually nothing. she keeps her possessions either strapped to her body or in her handbag. what is their most treasured possession? her forgotten box, as it is a place she can keep sentimental items, but lock them away so she is not constantly reminded of them.

---- spirituality

who or what is your character’s guardian angel? grace thomas, or the devil. do they believe in the afterlife? no. what are their religious views? she practices jewish and eastern orthodox holidays, but does not really believe in either religion. what do they think heaven is? she doesn’t believe it exists. what do they think hell is? life on earth. are they superstitious? no. what would they like to be reincarnated as? a feline of some sort. how would they like to die? drowned in moonlight, strangled by her own bra. what is your character’s spirit animal? a tiger. what is their zodiac sign? capricorn // rabbit yang fire or tiger yin fire.

---- values

what do they think is the worst thing that can be done to a person? sexual assault of all types, being sold into slavery, drugging a child, the judas chalice torture-- though she would take pleasure in any of the aforementioned perpetrators of such heinous crimes being placed upon a judas chalice. what is their view of ‘freedom’? for ekaterina, freedom is living her life as she pleases, with no one dictating what she does and being able to love who she wants to love. when did they last lie? all the time. everyday. all the time. what’s their view of lying? it is better than a horrific truth. when did they last make a promise? to grace, that her family would not be harmed in this revolution. did they keep or break their last promise? she hasn’t had the chance to do either yet.

---- daily life

what are their eating habits? ekaterina is a vegetarian, and tends to eat infrequently but it is always good food. do they have any allergies? no. describe their home. her part of the palace of snov is neat and tidy. nothing is out of place. she has a large bed, a very effective heater, a mounted television on which she streams movies and documentaries, a desk with her computer and other papers and books neatly stacked with stationary close by, a vanity where she lines up her make up and other products such as perfumes. her room also has a large window with a beautiful view of the rest of the grounds. are they minimalist or a clutter hoarder? a minimalist. anything she doesn’t need, she passes on to someone who can use it. what do they do first thing on a weekday morning? go for a run or go to the gym. what do they do on a sunday afternoon? participate in her sword-fighting sessions. what do they do on a friday night? if she is feeling up to it, she will make an appearance at a club, drink and take drugs and dance until it is six in the morning. what is the soft drink of choice? none. what is their alcoholic drink of choice? whiskey, vodka or rum.

---- miscellaneous

what is their character archetype? the rebel or the ruler. who is their hero? vincent van gogh. what or who would your character dress up as for halloween? either alice liddell, or daisy buchanan. are they comfortable with technology? yes. if they could save one person, who would it be? her father, nikolai, one of her sisters. or, the person who would benefit her the most. if they could call one person for help, who would it be? her father. what is their favorite proverb? “if you want something done right, you have to do it yourself.” what is their greatest extravagance? her rare buell motorcycle, or her engagement ring that she received from her first betrothal or any gift grace has ever give her. what is their greatest regret? never standing up to her mother regarding her role as heir. what is their perception of redemption? one who has made actions to prove they have changed. what would they do if they won the lottery? donate all of it to lgbt+ charities in the eastern european region. what is their favorite fairytale? the snow queen. what fairytale do they hate? sleeping beauty do they believe in happy endings? if one puts in the effort and makes it possible, then yes. what is their idea of perfect happiness? freedom and the opportunity to be with the people she loves. to marry grace would also provoke total happiness within her, but she isn’t sure how, if or when that could ever happen. what would they ask a fortune teller? nothing, she doesn’t believe in them. if your character could travel through time, where would they go? to the future, to see if roman’s plan achieved what he wanted. what sport do they excel at? fencing, lacrosse, cross-country running. what sport do they suck at? none, really. if they could have a superpower, what would they choose? she would not want one, but if there were no choice, pathokinesis.

[tune-collective]

The Top 10 EGOT Contenders: Who Will Be Next to Win All Four Major Awards?

The Top 10 EGOT Contenders: Who Will Be Next to Win All Four Major Awards?

Whether or not Lin-Manuel Miranda achieves EGOT (Emmy, Grammy, Oscar and Tony award) status at the Oscars Sunday night, it’s safe to say his odds of ultimately completing the trophy set are high. He’s established his ability to write catchy but poignant and thematic original songs and will likely be tapped over and over by the Hollywood powers that be. But his win or non-win does beg the question of… who’s next in the EGOT queue? There’s currently more than 40 living people one award away from EGOT. But the likelihood of eventually achieving all four is slim for most. (There’s a reason this is an exclusive club!). Looking ahead, here’s a roundup of the top 10 next contenders.

KATE WINSLET (EGO-)

Awards refresher: Winslet’s work has made it rain Oscar nominations (seven total), with two of those nods by age 22 and six by 33. Her role as Mildred Pierce in the eponymous miniseries earned the 2011 best actress Emmy, and her narrative contribution to Listen to the Storyteller: A Trio of Musical Tales from Around the World won the 2000 best spoken word album for child Grammy.

Likeliest “T” scenario: She acted onstage in her youth, but in a 2014 interview she said the reason she doesn’t do theater is because she isn’t prepared to miss her children’s bedtimes every night (totally fair). But children grow, and she’s young. Plus, Winslet’s the daughter of two stage actors, and her grandparents founded and managed a local theater — so it’s also hard to imagine she won’t circle back at some point. If she does, the New York theater community would go nuts for her, and Tony voters are historically anglophiles.

Bonus factoid: She keeps her Oscar in the bathroom. Why? So visitors can go ahead and hold it and do an acceptance speech in the mirror without feeling self-conscious. New friend goals.

MAGGE SMITH (E-OT)

Awards refresher: Dame Maggie’s aversion to the Emmy Awards became a recurring joke for last year’s host Jimmy Kimmel throughout the ceremony. She had the last laugh that night, though, with her fourth in-absentia Emmy win. She’s also got two Oscars and a Tony in her awards cache and/or lost and found.

Likeliest “G” scenario: Now that Downton Abbey is off-air, we could see her going on-air to lend her voice to record literally anything. Grammy voters would eat is up, and it’s a best spoken word album waiting to happen. However, it’s doubtful she cares enough about EGOTing for that to be a motivating factor…

Bonus factoid: At the Emmys, Kimmel pointed out that Dame Maggie showed up to accept her awards at the Oscars and the Tonys. She actually didn’t show up for her first Oscar win in 1970 for The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie. Her friend Alice Ghostley accepted on her behalf, sans an explanation. The woman’s busy.

HELEN MIRREN (E-OT)

Awards refresher: Playing Queen Elizabeth I got Dame Helen her first Emmy, and playing Queen Elizabeth II got her the royal Oscar and Tony treatment. If it ain’t broke…

Likeliest “G” scenario: Same as Dame Maggie: best spoken word album. Done.

Bonus factoid: On screen she’s played a queen six times: Caligula (1979), The Madness of King George (1994), The Snow Queen (1995), The Prince of Egypt (1998), Elizabeth I (2005) and The Queen (2006).

STEPHEN SONDHEIM (-GOT)

Awards refresher: The music man has seemingly collected 4,000 Grammys and Tonys between Into the Woods, Sweeney Todd, Company and more. He added a 1991 best original song Oscar for “Sooner or Later” in Dick Tracy. (Vocals courtesy of Madonna.)

Likeliest “E” scenario: Sondheim is 86 but still at it. He has nothing in the cooker along these lines yet, but any of these Emmy awards seem attainable for him pre-retirement (if he ever does retire): outstanding music composition for a series; outstanding original music and lyrics; or outstanding music direction.

Bonus factoid: His mentor was Oscar Hammerstein II (of that Rogers and Hammerstein).

AUDRA McDONALD (EG-T)

Awards refresher: McDonald is a certified Broadway Living Legend. She’s won six Tonys — the most by a performer, ever. She also scooped up two Grammys in 2009 for her operatic recording work on Rise and Fall of the City of Mahagonny. (She’s a classically trained Juilliard alumna.) Add a 2015 outstanding special class program Emmy with a Live from Lincoln Center episode, and she’s 3 for 4.

Likeliest “O” scenario: McDonald earned Emmy and Screen Actors Guild nominations for her captivating performance as Billie Holiday in last year’s TV movie Lady Day at Emerson’s Bar and Grill — a role she originated, and won a Tony for, on Broadway. She’s got loads of past TV appearances, but she’s ramping up her film presence (she’s part of the Beauty and the Beast squad), and the right future role, musical or not, could push her across the EGOT finishing line. Hollywood also loves top tier stage transplants when it comes to awards season…

Bonus factoid: She has won a Tony in all possible performance categories.  

MARTIN SCORSESE (EGO-)

Awards refresher: Everybody breathed a collective sigh of relief when Scorsese finally picked up an Oscar in 2007 for The Departed. He’s scored Emmys with Boardwalk Empire and a TV special on George Harrison, plus a Grammy for his work on a long-form Bob Dylan music video.

Likeliest “T” scenario: Scorsese’s one and only go at theater was directing Liza Minnelli, whom he allegedly had an affair with, in a vexed musical production called The Act in 1977. It was a box office bomb, and Scorsese went back to film. However, the director is also a prolific film, documentary, and TV producer. If he doesn’t want to direct another stage production, but still felt like dipping his toe back into the theater world, he could pull a Scott Rudin and produce. (The EGOT’ed film and theater producer has probably made four separate trips to Ikea to make shelf space for all his Tonys.) Scorsese is also a noted music lover, so there could still be some Broadway allure for him. He’s 74, but one look at his IMDB profile shows he’s only getting busier with age.

Bonus factoid: He’s worked with Robert De Niro on eight films.

CHER (EGO-)

Awards refresher: She’s Cher. But the award highlight reel includes a best dance recording 1999 Grammy for “Believe,” a 2003 outstanding variety special (music or comedy) Emmy for Cher: The Farewell Tour and, of course, a 1988 best actress Oscar for Moonstruck.

Likeliest “T” scenario: Cross all your fingers and toes, then knock on wood and throw salt over your shoulder because, yes, Cher: The Musical is gaining momentum… and the tentative behind-the-scenes team includes some Broadway heavyweights from shows like Hamilton, Avenue Q, Newsies and Jersey Boys. The level of her involvement right now is speculative, but should she participate it’s likely she would at the very least get a producer credit, opening her up to Tony potential. Beautiful: The Carole King Musical got Tony love, so there is precedence.

Bonus factoid: Cher initially turned down her role in Moonstruck and didn’t think she could accurately play a bookkeeper because in reality she’s such an over-the-top spender.

TREY PARKER AND MATT STONE (EG-T)

Awards refresher: The University of Colorado buds turned satirical comedy dream duo have won four Emmys, a Grammy, and two Tonys. Already famous (or infamous) as the unapologetic co-creators of the NSFW animated sitcom South Park, they were catapulted to next-level acclaim as part of the Book of Mormon dream team (along with current EGOTs Scott Rudin and Robert Lopez). Parker has actually already been nominated for an Oscar for his work on the song “Blame Canada” in the film South Park: Bigger, Longer, & Uncut. Robin Williams’ performance of the song at the 2000 Oscars was one for the books.

Likeliest “O” scenario: If the Book of Mormon movie ever gets liftoff, or if they do another original song. it seems like a real possibility. There’s actually a lot of possibilities here.

Bonus factoid: The pair dropped acid before attending the Oscar ceremony. They attended wearing versions of famous (or infamous) Gwyneth Paltrow and Jennifer Lopez gowns.

ALAN MENKEN (It’s Complicated)

Awards refresher: Disney music God (The Little Mermaid, Beauty and the Beast, Aladdin, Pocahontas…) has won eleven — ELEVEN! — Grammy Awards, eight — EIGHT! — Oscars and one — STILL COOL! — Tony. Technically speaking, he is an EGOT with an honorary 1990 Emmy for outstanding contribution to the success of the Academy’s anti-drug special for children. But the traditional rules are strict, and to be considered a true EGOT, all awards have to have been won in a competitive category.

Likeliest “E” scenario: Menken has showed a relatively new interest in TV work, earning his second Emmy nomination just last year for outstanding original music and lyrics (he was also a producer) on the musical comedy series Galavant. Menken alas lost, and Galavant was canceled, but if Menken keeps up that interest in TV work, rounding out a competitive EGOT membership status is completely attainable.

Bonus factoid: In the original 1991 Beauty and the Beast film there are 25 minutes of song, and only five minutes with no musical underscore at all.

ANNE HATHAWAY (E-O-)

Awards refresher: Hathaway famously took home the 2013 best supporting Oscar statue for her performance in Les Miserables. Less famously, she took home the Emmy for outstanding voice-over performance in 2010 for voicing “Princess Penelope” in an episode of The Simpsons.

Likeliest “G” and “T” scenario: Yes, she is two away from EGOT, but she has a very real chance to shore this up sooner rather than later. Hathaway is an undeniably versatile actress, and she’s only 34. Since 2012, the best spoken word album for children and best musical album for children merged into one award that covers both genres. A best children’s album (the current moniker) is right up Hathaway’s alley, for either musical or spoken word. Her singing chops are well established, but her non-singing voiceover abilities already got her that Emmy. She’s also the voice of Jewel the macaw in the popular animated Rio movie franchise. Plus, pre-Devil Wears Prada, it was roles in Ella Enchanted (in which she became a princess) and The Princess Diaries (in which she found out she was a princess) that made her famous. Those movies continue to be popular with young people, so combined with her Rio kid klout, she has a built in fan-base with Generations Z and Alpha, and the potential nostalgia factor for older generation voters. Regarding the Tonys, it’s not a question of if but when.

Bonus factoid: She has a thing for playing princesses. In 1998 she played one at the Paper Mill Playhouse (a very prestigious New Jersey theater) in Once Upon a Mattress.

Source: Billboard

http://tunecollective.com/2017/02/26/the-top-10-egot-contenders-who-will-be-next-to-win-all-four-major-awards/

[noxexistant]

had a deeply normal one at newsies in london tonight - 16/04, aka alex (oscar)’s last show, so here are some delancey notes from uksies in general + that show in particular:

oscar and morris are INCREDIBLY physical and practically always touching each other. lots of (pretty gentle) pushing and grabbing at each others hats and teasing each other, which they both seem to have equal fun with, but they also rest with their arms around each other and sit very close together. they sort of cling to each others backs on a few occasions. generally, kind of clingy and very comfortable with each other.

morris glances back guiltily after beating crutchie, while he’s leaving with oscar n wiesel while crutchie is taken to the refuge by snyder. he’s the only one who looks back.

oscar and morris essentially chainsmoke, and blow smoke in the newsies’ faces frequently to antagonise them. they also throw their cigarettes at the newsies on a couple occasions.

they seem to have a better relationship with wiesel than is generally portrayed? they smile at him and sit close to him on a few occasions. they back him up and kind of seem to admire him at a few moments, though just as frequently seem to have a “just business” sort of relationship.. generally, they seem a little more comfortable with him, but it could just as easily be read as sucking up to an abuser.

they’re truly not much bigger than the newsies, morris especially. he’s shorter than davey. the fights seem much more evenly matched, and much more brutal because of it. oscar and morris have baseball bats in the second fight, and swing them brutally. they also wrench the newsies around when they try to disarm them by grabbing the ends of the bats..

one of them (oscar?) absolutely does not hesitate to throw les out of the way to get to jack/davey to square up to them.

physically affectionate with the scabs!!! they hug them. they jostle them to reassure them, almost like jack does with crutchie. they pull them close by an arm around the shoulder and kind of squeeze them before pushing them back out into the square.

morris fidgets!!! a lot. taps his feet, bounces, pulls himself up by the slats above on the scaffolding/fire escape set to casually sit over the edge of the railing when he’s watching the newsies. sits with his legs dangling, and pulls himself up again to get back down rather than climbing (lot of arm strength)

oscar glances at morris when snyder/wiesel(?) says something about crutchie in pulitzer’s office after the delanceys beat him and turn him over to the refuge, specifically when they refer to him as “the crippled boy”.

when they’ve got jack against the wall before they drag him down to the basement, oacar hits him hard a few times, but then hands it over to morris and morris gives it to him. just absolutely beats on him, almost desperate, while oscar just kind of stands by.

overall, they seem much much closer than in other interpretations, and definitely very distinctly feel like brothers. they love each other. they look after each other. they care about each other.

also george was crying at the end of the show and hugged alex so tight when they bowed and i will never recover <3