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steddiealltheway · 1 year ago

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By some twist in fate, Eddie and Nancy become friends.

It starts when Eddie sees her at The Hideout standing out very much in the sea of dark clothes wearing a lavender sweater and jeans. Eddie tells his band mates he’ll be right back when he rushes off to Nancy, noticing how people are starting to stare at her a bit.

“Nance?” Eddie asks, hands in the pockets of his black jeans trying not to make it obvious that he’s fidgety. He knows that she can defend herself, but it looks like some of the guys in the bar are going to test it, and he hopes his presence will make them back off a bit.

Nancy turns and her eyebrows furrow before she gives him a tight smile. “Eddie? What are you doing here?”

“Just finished up a gig. What are you doing here?” Eddie asks.

Nancy looks around and loudly says, “I was just here to see you play. I can’t believe I missed it.” She throws her arms around Eddie and whispers in his ear, “I’m looking into something.”

As she pulls away, Eddie smiles and puts his arm around her. “How about we talk outside?”

Nancy nods and walks toward the exit. Eddie turns and waves Gareth off as he stares at him with his jaw dropped.

As soon as they’re outside, Nancy lets out a deep breath and Eddie rushes off to his van, not trusting the few people outside staring. He opens the passenger door for Nancy and goes quickly to the driver side. When the door closes, Nancy immediately says, “I know this probably sounds crazy, but I think there’s a dog fighting ring below The Hideout.”

Eddie sits back and takes in the information. He shrugs. “Okay. I can believe that.”

Nancy rambles on, “And I know there’s not great evidence and it’s a shot in the dark but-” She stops and looks at Eddie. “You believe me?”

“Yeah. You’re one of the smartest people I know, and the Creel stuff checked out, so why wouldn’t I believe you?”

“I gave you no evidence,” Nancy says as if she’s trying to talk herself out of her own theory.

Eddie shrugs again. “Then, give it to me.”

And she does. Telling him about a dog she saw chained in the backyard of someone’s house with marks consistent with an attack. How the only time the owner brings the dog inside is when he leaves his garage to drive to The Hideout, although he usually parks in the driveway which means he probably doesn't want people to see him putting the dog in his car. How he parks at the back of the bar in a fenced-off section that only a few other cars can go in. How she’s seen dogs in the other cars and even barking in the back that fades almost as if the noise starts traveling down. But this is the first time she’s gone inside.

“Well, that all sounds pretty damning, but you’re going to have to stop your investigation style.”

Nancy crosses her arms. “What does that mean?”

“I mean, you stick out like a reporter, and your notebook was sticking out of your pocket in there. No one is going to talk to you, and if they think something is up, then you risk them relocating. So, I suggest we give you a metal makeover and you let me drive you here in my van because your shiny little car is just as suspicious.”

Nancy looks a bit pissed as she states, “I don’t need your help or protection.”

Eddie smiles. “I know you don’t, but I would be a great undercover buddy and excuse for your presence at The Hideout.”

Nancy narrows her eyes at him. “Why are you helping me?”

“One, you saved my life. Two, this sounds like an adventure,” Eddie says throwing his arms out with glee.

Nancy tries to suppress a smile before she sighs, “Fine, but if you blow the case…”

“I’m dead, and I never go on anymore adventures with you. Got it.” Eddie holds out his hand with a wide smile, and Nancy takes it, shaking it one time.

It feels like the start of a wonderful friendship.

-:-:-:-:-:-

“Wow,” Eddie says staring in awe at his work.

“I feel ridiculous, Eddie,” Nancy says, dark eyeliner smudged around her eyes, chains dangling over her tight black pants, and one of Eddie’s band t-shirts tucked into them.

“Well, you look absolutely metal,” Eddie says with a bright smile.

Nancy rolls her eyes but smiles.

Eddie thinks for a second before announcing, “We should stop by Family Video to show off your new look.”

Nancy scoffs.

“I always stop by on Wednesday! Please,” Eddie practically begs. He can’t wait to see the look on Steve’s face when he sees her. He wonders if Robin will be there too.

Nancy gets a little investigative twinkle in her eye. “You stop by every Wednesday, huh?”

Eddie eyes her. There’s no way she knows about his crush or the fact that he stops by every Monday, Wednesday, Friday, and sometimes Saturday and Sunday depending on if Steve's working the weekend shift. He tries to brush it off. “Yes, so I must stop by today. Right now actually, so you’re coming with, Wheeler. We can do this the easy way or the hard way.”

Nancy narrows her eyes at him.

“Alright, we’re doing this the easy way. Got it,” Eddie says, voice cracking a bit with fear that only Nancy can evoke. Luckily, she follows him to his van and gets in willingly.

A quick trip over and a surprisingly pleasant conversation later, and Eddie is dramatically entering Family Video. His heart skips a beat when he spots Steve at the counter looking at him, and he nearly forgets the reason for his dramatics. Then, Nancy clears her throat, still hiding behind him, and Eddie makes eye contact with Robin who is raising her eyebrows expectantly.

Luckily, the store is empty when he dramatically announces, “Lady and gentleman, I present to you-”

“Ruth,” Nancy whispers behind him.

Eddie moves to the side and dramatically presents, “Ruth!”

Robin looks like she’s about to die on the spot, and Steve well… he looks a bit shocked.

Eddie hooks his arm around Nancy and walks her up to the counter. “What do you think Steve?" His heart tugs a bit as he notices the way Steve doesn't look at Nancy but instead focuses in on Eddie's arm draped around her shoulders. His jaw flexes and his nostrils flare as he looks at Eddie and nods. "She looks great like a female version of you." He tries to smile at him, but it comes off forced and almost scary.

Eddie's arm guiltily slides off Nancy and a blush settles over his cheeks. He feels weirdly embarrassed as he passes Nancy off to Robin who stutters while complimenting her.

Eddie takes the break to look at Steve who stares at a stack of tapes, fiddling with them as if to make it perfectly stacked. "Didn't realize you two were so close."

"We're working undercover on a case," Eddie says with a big smile, feeling almost giddy with excitement.

Nancy laughs, overhearing him. "We're investigating something," she corrects, but adds on, "An adventure." Her eyes light up and her eyebrows raise, and Eddie feels an intense platonic love for the woman.

He glances back at Steve who continues staring at his tapes. "Sounds fun," he says flatly.

Eddie feels another shoot of pain in his heart, almost stricken by guilt. He and Steve have been talking and relatively close for the past few weeks, but suddenly he gets weird when he becomes friends with Nancy?

It strikes Eddie suddenly. He's jealous.

Of course Steve would be jealous of Eddie parading around with his ex-girlfriend! It makes so much sense. He probably thinks he's corrupting her or something.

When Robin asks Nancy more about her investigation, Eddie can't help but lean over the counter and mumble, "You know that there's nothing happening between me and Nancy, right? She doesn't like me like that at all. Trust me. Don't have to worry about her being taken or whatever especially by me," Eddie rambles out, laughing at the end to add to how ridiculous the thought even is.

Steve looks at him confused. "That's not- that isn't..." He shakes his head and goes back to his stack. "I don't have feelings for Nance."

Eddie almost scoffs at that because hello. All signs point to jealousy. "So, you're not jealous?"

"No of you," Steve mutters still fidgeting with the tapes.

Eddie nods. Maybe he's just having a bad day or something. "Great, glad we cleared that up. But uh- are you okay?"

Steve nods and gives him that same tight smile. "Yup."

Yeah, he's definitely not fine, but he's not gonna push it. He glances over at Nancy to ask if she's ready to go, but then he sees the way she's leaning over the counter toward Robin, chatting animatedly about her evidence while Robin listens with heart eyes, practically drooling as she asks Nancy more questions. And what's even more interesting is the way Nancy gets flustered as Robin asks questions she hadn't thought of before and a blush slowly appears on Nancy's cheeks.

Eddie watches in awe as the two form more theories with their ideas bouncing off of each other as they slowly lean closer and closer until Nancy's arms are pressing against Robin's. Eddie softly smiles. If Nancy can tease him about his crush, he's going to certainly tease her about hers.

"Watch it there. You might start drooling if you stare too hard," Steve mutters to Eddie, hurt evident in his tone.

"Why would I be drooling?"

Steve rolls his eyes and loudly announces, "I'm going on my break." The two girls jump apart as he storms off to the back and slams the door behind him. Christ. What has him in such a bad mood?

"Damn, what did you say to him?" Robin asks with her arms crossed.

Eddie raises his hands. "I have no idea."

Nancy raises her eyebrows. "Oh, I have an idea, but come on. I think that was our cue to leave." She turns back to Robin and very regretfully says goodbye before Eddie follows her outside.

"Really, I have no idea-"

"He's jealous, Eddie," Nancy states with a small smile.

Eddie fidgets and says, "Well, he told me he wasn't after I explained you don't have feelings for me."

Nancy laughs, and Eddie stares at her. "What am I missing?"

"He's not jealous of you! He's jealous of me. He likes you, Eddie, and don't tell me I'm wrong because I know what he's like when he likes someone."

Eddie stops to think about the way Steve had hardly paid attention to Nancy and gave all his attitude to Eddie. But that can't be true, and he knows he can't say that to Nancy, so instead he stirs the pot. "And you like Robin, and she likes you back!"

Nancy's jaw drops and she splutters, "She doesn't- I don't- She... That is not what we're discussing right now!"

"Here's what I think," Eddie says, ignoring Nancy's attempt at changing the topic, "I think that you should go to The Hideout with Robin because you two clearly work well together, and she's a better investigator than I am. Plus, you two have the experience after the whole library and asylum thing."

Nancy takes a second to consider it and asks, "But what about you? I know you wanted the adventure."

Eddie's stomach flips a bit at how caring Nancy Wheeler is. "I think I've had enough adventure in the Upside Down to last a lifetime. Plus, I have a weak stomach, and I might throw up if I saw a dog fighting ring."

Nancy smiles and huffs a laugh. She looks down at her feet a moment before looking at Eddie with a determined look that scares him. "If I go with Robin, you'll take her work vest and cover the rest of her shift. Plus, I get your van so we have a ride."

"Deal," Eddie says handing her his keys without thinking.

"Have fun with Steve," Nancy says with a big smile running back into Family Video.

Shit, he had forgotten about that part.

Eddie races inside, but it's too late, Nancy is already talking to Robin about the plan. She hands over her vest to Eddie and squeals, "Tell Steve I'm not sorry at all."

The bell on the door rings as they both race out. Eddie sighs and makes his way to the back, hoping that Steve won't entirely lose his shit at the news.

He knocks on the door and gets a, "Leave me alone, Robin," in response.

"It's Eddie. Robin left with Nancy," Eddie says loudly through the door.

It quickly opens with Steve looking a bit frantic and confused. "She what?"

"She left to investigate with Nancy. I'm covering the rest of the shift."

Steve stares at him for a few seconds and sighs running a hand over his face. "I didn't mean to make you lose your chances with Nance. That was a dick move, man. I can cover the rest of the shift on my own, and you can go with them."

Eddie crosses his arms. "I told you she doesn't have feelings for me."

"Yeah, but you have feelings for her clearly. You couldn't take your eyes off of her after that whole makeover of yours. Turned her into your perfect girl or whatever," Steve says angrily, and Eddie sees that same jealousy returning.

"Why are you getting so jealous?" Eddie asks outright, refusing to fully rely on Nancy's explanation.

Steve runs a hand through his hair and rests it on his hip. He looks at Eddie for a few seconds, eyes wandering all over his face before blurting out, "Because I like you! Okay! And I thought maybe you did too because of how often you come in and talk to me, but clearly, I was wrong." He brushes past Eddie and goes back to that damn stack of tapes, fidgeting with them again.

Eddie takes a deep breath and says, "Steve?"

Steve tenses up, and Eddie continues, "You realize that I don't have feelings for Nancy because I have this huge overwhelming crush on you that I never thought would go anywhere, right?"

Steve turns around quickly. "Huh?"

Eddie slowly walks up to him. "Nancy tried to tell me that you were jealous of her, and I thought it wasn't possible. That there was no way that you could like me like that. In fact, I'm pretty sure I'm dreaming right now."

"Me too," Steve says with his eyes wide.

Eddie stops in front of him and cautiously smiles. "So, what now?"

Steve smiles back. "You know, I once heard that if you want to wake up from a dream, you just grab someone in the dream and kiss them."

"Really?"

"No," Steve says stepping closer. "But I think it's worth a try."

"Me too," Eddie replies as he leans in and does what he's been dreaming of doing for weeks now. Steve's lips are soft and warm and Eddie feels like he could get lost in the way they move against his.

Sadly, Steve breaks the kiss and says, "Huh, not dreaming, which also means that I need to temporarily put the closed sign on the door."

Eddie's eyebrows furrow, still confused as to why the kiss ended early. "Why?"

Steve jumps over the counter and flips the sign. "So we can properly kiss in the back without the fear of people coming in. I'm still on my break, you know, and I know exactly how I want to spend every minute of it," Steve says all matter-of-fact as he makes his way back to Eddie and tugs him into the breakroom.

God bless, Nancy Wheeler.

(Oh, and Nancy's investigation pans out exactly as she expected. She busts the ring pretty fast, and in her article, she thanks ((her, now, girlfriend)) Robin and even Eddie for their help. And trust me, the fruity four go on plenty of adventures together. Plus, Eddie and Nancy are very willing to give their partners their platonic soulmate time, so they can also hang out.)

#steddie #platonic edancy #eddie munson #steve harrington #nancy wheeler #robin buckley #steddie ficlet #stranger things #this went in a different direction than expected #because i realized it was getting too long #but i was going to have a whole eddie and nancy as investigation buddies together plot #but i firmly believe that they still do that #just on cases Eddie can stomach

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b0r3dtod3ath · 20 days ago

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HELLOOOOOOO I saw your post about ur askbox being open so..........

may I kindly request piastri (or literally any other driver, i dont care tbh 😭) x F1 driver!S/O!reader and them getting into an inchident (I'm sorry) during a race 🥹

I'M IN NEED FOR ANGST SO IF YOU COULD I LOVE YOUUUU (platonically) 😘😘😘😘

♡ navigation / request info / f1 masterlist

♡ warnings: none

The pit lane was suffocatingly quiet when you walked back into the garage. Your gloves were clenched in one hand, your helmet in the other. The crash replaying in your mind: First turn. Oscar’s car speeding up on the inside, your instinctive defense on the outside. The contact. The spin. The gravel trap.

They always warned you that competing with someone you love would be tough. You hadn’t even looked at him after you climbed out of your car, too angry and embarrassed to meet his eyes. The garage was tense, a heavy silence hanging over the team as they avoided looking at either you or Oscar. You could feel his frustration radiating, his footsteps quick and heavy. The second the door to your driver’s room closed behind him, he snapped.

“What the hell was that?” he snapped, pulling off his helmet and tossing it onto the counter. His hair was a mess, his face flushed, and his voice sharp.

“What was what? You tried to dive into the corner like you had nothing to lose!” you replied.

“I didn’t dive,” he shot back, pointing at you. “I had the inside line, and you didn’t leave any space! What were you thinking? It was my corner. You should’ve backed off.”.

“Oh, so now I’m supposed to just roll over and let you through because it’s you?” you shot back, stepping closer. “That’s not how this works, Oscar!”

“It’s not about letting me through!” he said, his voice rising. “It’s about being smart enough to not take out both of us in the process! We’re supposed to be professionals, not-”.

You cut him off, your voice dangerously low. “Don’t you dare lecture me about professionalism when you were the one driving like a maniac”.

Meanwhile, the pit crew shifted uncomfortably, pretending to focus on their screens and tools as they heard everything. The walls were pretty thin.

Oscar’s jaw clenched, and for a moment, it looked like he was holding himself back from saying something he’d regret. “You can’t keep pulling stunts like that,” he started, his voice low but no less heated. “This isn’t karting anymore, okay? This is Formula 1. Every move counts, and you can’t just-”.

“I can’t?” you interrupted, your tone sharp. “Don’t talk to me like I don’t know how to race. I’ve been doing this just as long as you have!”.

“You didn’t race smart!” he snapped, stepping closer. “You defended a position you couldn’t hold, and it cost both of us the race. You think the team’s going to be happy about that? You think I’m happy about that?”.

“I didn’t defend poorly. You pushed too hard!” You met his glare head-on, refusing to back down. “You didn’t even give me a chance to react before you stuck your nose in where it didn’t belong”.

Oscar threw his hands up in frustration, pacing a few steps before turning back to you. “I gave you space! Barely, but I gave it! What more do you want from me?”.

“I want you to stop acting like I’m the only one who made a mistake!” you fired back. “This wasn’t just on me, Oscar. It was both of us. Both of us”.

For a long moment, the two of you just stared at each other, the weight of the argument settling heavily between you. Finally, Oscar exhaled, running a hand through his already messy hair. “I hate this,” he admitted, his voice quieter now. “I hate that it happened. I hate that we’re here, fighting like this” His voice trailed off, his gaze dropping to the ground.

Your expression softened. “It's alright, we’re going to fix this,” you said, your voice steadier now. “The team, the media, all of it. But I need to know that we’re okay first”.

He looked up at you, exhaustion visible in his eyes “I don’t wanna fight with you”. Without another word, he pulled you into a tight hug, the tension between you melting away as you buried your face in his shoulder. His hand rested on the back of your head, holding you close as he whispered an apology.

….

The press conference buzzed with tension as the inevitable question came. “What happened in the race, and has it affected your relationship?”

Oscar shot a quick glance your way and leaned towards the mic “It was just a racing incident, plain and simple. We were both pushing hard. That’s what happens when two competitive drivers are fighting for the same piece of track”.

The follow-up came quickly. “So, no blame on either side? From the garage footage, it seemed like there was some tension. Oscar added calmly, “We’ve talked it through. The focus is on moving forward for the team.”

A reporter pressed. “No lingering issues?”. “What happens on track stays on track,” you replied firmly. “It’s behind us”.

As the press moved on, Oscar leaned over once the mics were off. “See? Easy”. You smirked. “We’ll see in the debrief.” His quiet chuckle eased the tension at last.

November 20, 2024

#f1 x reader #formula 1 x reader #oscar piastri fanfic #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri angst

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theemporium · 1 year ago

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🐈‍⬛ i don’t have a specific request but I can’t get the phrase “don’t hex and drive” out of my head. maybe driver reader who’s witchy and starts cursing anyone who’s rude to her boys right before a race sksjsks

thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

“What a bunch of little c—”

“Amor, it’s fine.”

You snapped your head around, your eyes narrowing at your boyfriend sitting on the couch. “No, Carlos. No, it’s not.”

He sighed. “No, but I need you to calm down before you do something stupid.”

You almost wanted to scoff at him.

It was ridiculous. It was ridiculous that such a historical and iconic team could make Formula Two teams and lower leagues look like saints. It was ridiculous that you had to watch your boys suffer through mistakes and situations that weren’t their fault. It was ridiculous that just when you thought Ferrari couldn’t fuck up anymore, they always seemed to find a way.

And it was ridiculous the way your boys had been conditioned by their own team to deal with it.

And maybe you should have been glad that such a fierce competitor was no longer such, but you couldn’t care less about that when it was the loves of your life who were suffering. You didn’t care if it made your races easier. You didn’t care when it was chipping away at the men you love and making them shells of who they were at the start of the reason.

“They need to get a grip of themselves,” you said bluntly, your brows furrowed together as you glared at the prancing horse logo on the wall of Charles’ driver room.

“Yes, but Carlos is right,” Charles said as he reached his arm out to tug you closer, to pull you down on the couch that both boys were currently sitting on. He nuzzled you to sit between them, squished between both Ferrari drivers who just looked exhausted. “When you get angry, you don’t think clearly.”

“I’m thinking very clearly right now,” you retorted as you crossed your arms over your chest with a huff. “And what I’m thinking is that everyone on that pit wall can enjoy my foot up their—”

“And there she is,” Carlos murmured, though his tone was light-hearted as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders and tucked you into his side. “We don’t need you fighting our battles, amor.”

“I know,” you sighed deeply.

“We will sort this out with the team,” he added.

“Yeah, yeah,” you grumbled.

“So no magic, okay?”

You paused.

“Cherie,” Charles muttered as you continued to avoid both their stares. “No hexing and driving, remember?”

“But—”

“No magic. We can deal with the grid penalties on our own,” Charles told you in a softer voice. And you believed them. You knew what your boys were capable of, but your lack of faith resided with the team rather than them.

“How about a teeny hex?” You bargained as you looked between them. “Nothing big or serious, it will be harmless.”

Neither Charles nor Carlos looked convinced.

“Something like…if they fuck up either of your races today, they will have clown noses stuck to their faces for a week?” You suggested, watching the way Charles had to press his lips together to withhold his giggles.

“Mi amor,” Carlos scolded softly but you could see the smile on his face.

“Please?” You murmured, giving the boys your puppy dog eyes that you knew they wouldn’t be able to resist. “If you won’t let me spell the cars with good luck, at least let me do this.”

The boys shared a look with each other, a few beats of silence passing between you three before Carlos spoke.

“Fine—”

“Yes!” You grinned.

“But nothing more,” Carlos quickly added, shooting you a look. “And this is the only time.”

“Promise,” you said with a smile on your face that didn’t reassure Carlos in the slightest, but he knew there was no stopping you when it came to defending them.

“Thank you for caring,” he added in a softer voice.

“Always,” you said as you reached your hands out, taking each of their hands in your own as you intertwined your fingers. “I’ll always defend you both. After all, I like seeing you on the podium with me.”

“In second and third,” Charles commented with a snort.

You shrugged. “I like the view from up on the top spot, you can’t blame me.”

“If you wanted to look down at us, you just had to ask for us to get on our knees, mi amor,” Carlos commented, grinning a little himself when he watched a blush spread across your cheeks.

“What was that, Christian? You need me for data review? Okay!” You announced suddenly as you scrambled to get up from the couch, your body flushing at his words and the boys laughing as they tried to pull you back down.

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pucksandpower · 9 months ago

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I’m sorry but Formula 1 media drives me insane!

If Max didn’t DNF in Australia, he would be leading the World Championship. If Charles had functioning brakes in Bahrain, he would be leading the World Championship.

See how these hypotheticals work?

The narratives surrounded the Australian Grand Prix are slowly making me lose my mind. Did Carlos have a commendable drive? Yes. Was his win due to luck more than anything (simply because no one is getting ahead of Max if he doesn’t have mechanical issues)? Yes!

Carlos won because, for the first time in nearly two seasons, Max had a DNF. It’s really that simple.

The difference in how media treats Carlos versus Charles simply does not make any sense to me. A lucky P1 for Carlos and fans and pundits alike are saying that he is better than Charles and that Ferrari is keeping the wrong driver.

I can’t deal with it anymore!

How are these same people content to pretend that Charles didn’t have major brake issues in Bahrain that rendered his car all but undriveable? That him being able to finish P4 was a miracle in itself. How do seven straight front row starts get ignored or dismissed as unimportant because Charles didn’t manage to convert them to wins … when the Australian Grand Prix clearly showed the importance of starting the position?

The only difference, as luck would have it, the one race that Max has mechanical issues is also the one race that Charles had issues with the car in qualifying and had to start on the second row instead.

Sometimes I wish that Charles had a national media to defend him and have his back like all the other drivers do because the double standards that he constantly has to deal with are making me lose my mind.

It truly feels like some of these people don’t bother to actually watch races or take context into consideration and just go purely off of the standings.

Charles Leclerc deserves better.

#i needed to rant #charles leclerc #cl16 #f1 #formula 1 #formula one #scuderia ferrari #australian gp 2024 #aus gp 2024

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formulaa-1 · 2 years ago

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Begging for a fic of Max being really protective of his gf, especially to his dad. He knows that his dad can be awful, but he absolutely will not let him be awful to his SO. So when Jos makes a comment about reader always being super clingy with max and distracting him from F1, he gets super protective.

one shot🪩 M.V

fem!reader x max verstappen

max is super protective of his girlfriend,and always defends her ,especially from his dad so when jos makes a comment about y/n being clingy and distracting him from his work ,max gets protective <3

🫶🏼Thankyou so much for the request and I’m sorry it’s taken awhile to get round to🫶🏼

You and max have been dating for almost 3 years and you truly were one of the best couples in the paddock, you were both so supportive of each-other and could always cheer one another up! and most importantly, there was so much love and trust between you both. However the only problem you had was his father, Jos.

Jos would normally make sly comments behind max’s back about how you were always attached to max at the hip and were too ‘clingy’ with him, and usually you would just ignore it and try not to let it bother you, because you tried so hard to get along with him for max’s sake but it was hard when he continued to make comments and knock you down.

you’d never bothered to tell max about it because you knew how protective he can be and you didn’t want to cause any problems between him and his father so you just left it.

That was until max had found you crying in his drivers room after some harsh comments from jos telling you that max could do better and that you were just a distraction. You knew what he was saying wasn’t true, but you still couldn’t help but feel put down by it.

“y/n? what’s up baby? what happened” he spoke as he removed your hands from your tear stained face.

“max,I’m fine don’t worry” you sniffled and held his hand.

he quirked a brow and tried to remember if he had done anything to make you feel this way but before he could speak again the door opened.

you quickly tried to wipe your tears away before looking up at the figure who had walked in.

“your engineers want you ,max” Jos spoke.

“typical ,tell them to give me 10 minutes” he rolled his eyes and mumbled.

you kept your eyes glued to the ground as they conversed and picked at your nails waiting for him to leave. Max noticed your behaviour and grabbed your hands brushing his thumb against yours.

“Max! They need you now for goodness sake” he shouted “you can’t just expect them to wait for you just because your girlfriends upset yet again, because she’s not been given attention for 5 minutes!”

Max was furious to say the least. He suddenly realised why you were crying and he had never felt so angry before.

“get out!” he shouted back. “You do not get to make her feel like this ever again! and from now on your not to attend any of my races. i mean it.”

Jos stood in shock at his son and kicked the bin before storming out the room and slamming the door behind him. Max watched as he left and he probably should have felt a sense of guilt, but instead he felt proud of himself for finally standing up to him and not letting him control him anymore.

“maxie” you spoke gently.

max’s eyes softened and he sat down pulling you into his side.

“Y/n I’m so sorry you had to hear that, how long has he been saying things like that to you?”

you debated telling max all the other things he had said but you didn’t want to rile him up further so you just gave him a small smile and a little kiss before telling him it didn’t matter anymore.

“as long as I have you ,it doesn’t matter” you spoke softly.

“I love you”

“I love you too”

authors note- help this is so bad😭😭I’m so bad at one shots guys🤓 I hope this is okay for you tho<3 I hope your all taking care of yourselves , love you all🎀

#f1 instagram au #formula 1 #instagram au #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #fiction #max vertsappen #max verstappen #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen imagine #red bull gives you wings

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fanfictionismyaddiction · 4 months ago

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Sergio Checo Perez with wife reader. He was feeling down as his performance hasn't been improving and everyone seems to be criticizing him. Up to you. Thanks!! :))

A wife’s fierce protection

Word count: 792

Pairing: Sergio Perez x wife!reader

Summary: In the face of relentless criticism from the media and team principal Christian Horner, Sergio Pérez’s wife fiercely defends him, demanding better support and car improvements

________________________________________________________

Sergio "Checo" Pérez slumped in a chair as the team meeting stretched on. His recent performances had been the subject of intense scrutiny both within the team and in the media. Headlines were harsh: “Pérez Under Pressure,” “Checo’s Decline,” and “Red Bull’s Weak Link.” The constant criticism was wearing him down.

Christian Horner, Red Bull Racing’s team principal, continued to review Sergio’s performance metrics, his comments increasingly sharp. “The media is relentless,” Horner said, “but it’s not just them. Your times aren’t improving, and we need to address this seriously. It’s affecting our standings, and you’re not meeting expectations.”

Y/N, who had been quietly seething beside Sergio, couldn’t hold back any longer. The frustration she felt about the situation had been building for days, exacerbated by the negative media coverage and constant criticism of her husband.

“Christian, this is enough,” she said, standing abruptly. “You can’t keep talking about my husband like he’s the problem here.”

The room went silent. Max Verstappen, sitting across from them, was struggling to stifle a smirk, clearly finding the situation amusing. Y/N’s fierce expression quickly turned his smirk into a look of surprise.

“If you think tearing Sergio down is going to fix anything, you’re wrong,” Y/N continued, her voice unwavering. “You’re not just dealing with a driver here; you’re dealing with a person who’s been given a car that’s clearly not performing as it should. It’s not all on him. The car needs improvements, and the constant negativity isn’t helping anyone.”

Horner, taken aback, tried to maintain his composure. “Y/N, I understand you’re frustrated, but we have to address the issues with his performance. Constructive criticism is part of the process.”

“Constructive?” Y/N shot back. “This isn’t constructive. It’s demoralizing. If you want to see improvement, then start by addressing the issues with the car. If the car isn’t right, no driver will perform well. Sergio needs support, not more criticism.”

Sergio, who had been watching in stunned silence, reached out to gently touch her arm, speaking softly in Spanish. “Cariño, por favor, no hace falta. No quiero que esto se vuelva peor para ti.” ("Darling, please, it's not necessary. I don't want this to get worse for you.")

But Y/N shook her head, her eyes still locked on Horner. “No, Sergio. It’s already bad enough. I’m not going to let them treat you like this anymore. If they think they can keep criticizing you without consequence, they’re in for a rude awakening.”

Max, who had been listening intently, finally spoke up. “Actually, Y/N, I agree with you. The car hasn’t been up to standard, and it’s not just Sergio who’s been struggling with it. I’ve had my issues too. We should definitely be looking at improvements. The car needs more than just tweaks; it needs significant upgrades.”

Horner, clearly caught off guard, nodded. “I see your point. We’ll have to consider how we can improve the car and support both drivers better. But we still need to address the performance issues on an individual level.”

Y/N turned back to Horner, her gaze unyielding. “And that starts with respecting Sergio and understanding that he’s working with what he’s given. If you want him to perform better, give him a better car and a better environment. And if you can’t provide that, then stop blaming him.”

As the meeting ended, the room remained in stunned silence. Y/N took Sergio’s hand, and they walked out together, leaving a tense atmosphere behind them.

Later, in the quiet of their hotel room, Sergio pulled Y/N close, his eyes filled with gratitude and admiration. “Estás loca,” he said softly, a smile tugging at his lips. “Pero fue lo más sexy que he visto en mi vida. Cómo me defendiste… nadie ha hecho eso por mí.” (“You’re crazy, but that was the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen. The way you defended me… no one’s ever done that for me.”)

Y/N smiled up at him, her earlier anger now replaced with a warm glow. “I just couldn’t stand to see them treat you like that. You’re incredible, Sergio. And if they can’t see it, then to hell with them.”

Sergio chuckled, pulling her closer. “Te amo, ¿sabes? No sé qué haría sin ti.” (“I love you, you know? I don’t know what I’d do without you.”)

“And you’ll never have to find out,” she replied, her arms wrapped around him. “I’ll always be by your side, fighting for you. And if anyone tries to bring you down again, they’ll have to deal with me first.”

“You make me feel invincible,” Sergio murmured, his lips brushing against her forehead. “With you by my side, I know I can face anything.”

Y/N’s smile widened. “And that’s exactly how I want you to feel, always.”

#fanfiction #reader insert #fanfic #f1 #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #fluff #formula 1 #formula one #sergio perez #sergio checo pérez #sergio pérez #Sergio pérez x reader

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sourpatchys · 1 year ago

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My personal Headcannons for Daryl Dixon that I will defend with my life

Just a warning! there is some nsfw❤️‍🔥 content in this list (not a ton)

This is a list full of random Headcannons I have, some are xreader related, some are just fun little things I’d like to believe because they’re fun

He l o v e s head scratches and chin scratches, just like a dog, his mom used to do it to him as a kid, it’s just really comforting to him

He is 100% dyslexic, he’s super insecure about it, which is why he leaves reading and writing up to anyone else who’s willing to do it.

This dude is secretly a math wiz. It came super easy to him, but he does tend to keep it on the down low because it was never something he was allowed to be proud of as a child, and it’s not really a needed skill anymore

I personally do not believe Daryl did anything hard while running around with Merle, Shrooms and weed were his limit 99.99% of the time, unless he felt pressured, but even then it would take a lot of convincing

He’s very self conscious about how thick his accent can get, he grew up in a much more rural area than the rest of Rick and Co. (apart from Maggie of course) and he feels out of place with his speech patterns at times.

Daryl was definitely a highschool drop out, assuming his birthday is January 6th, he left as soon as he was old enough to do it without a parent’s consent (18)

I just know this man never got his license. Can you imagine him paying his way through classes and taking a drivers test? I can’t. He probably just got a state ID for booze and just drove around illegally (if he got an ID at all, I’m sure he knew quite a few places that didn’t card)

He runs hot, the cold is a lot easier for him to handle than the heat, which is why he tended to wear sleeveless shirts or half sleeves

He has never had a “crush” in his life. He’s thought people were hot before, of course he has, but romance was never really on his mind

He’s not a total virgin, but he’s not exactly skilled either. His body count is probably 3, and I guarantee you he was not sober before, during, or after.

He’s a thigh and breast man. Hands down.

I know deep in my soul that this man enjoys some face sitting.

He’s not an overly sexual guy, if you were asexual he’d be okay with never doing anything, so long as you were happy

If you’re nonbinary, he was definitely mean to you at the start, with the way he was raised it simply didn’t make any since to him, BUT once you get closer and he starts to trust you, he might (he will) start asking some questions to understand you better

He isn’t a pet name kinda guy. He’s completely on board with calling you sunshine or princess, but anything past that just isn’t for him, and he really isn’t a fan of you giving him one either, unless it’s just a joking matter like how Carol calls him “pookie” from time to time

He’s a morning person and he hates it. He always wakes up at the ass crack of dawn, and every time he wishes he hadn’t.

He is definitely an insomniac, likely derived from having night terrors as a kid

He’s definitely self conscious about his scars, but not enough to cause issues if anyone happened to see them, he isn’t ashamed of them, but he doesn’t want to explain where their from, and he genuinely hasn’t thought of a good enough lie to tell instead.

When rick saw them for the first time Daryl had him fully convinced he was in a fight with a bear for about a week (rick never asked for the real reason)

He has a heavy sweet tooth, and likes to keep hard candy with him at all times (if possible) and he has never, and will never, pass up chocolate in any form.

He genuinely has chicken scratch for handwriting, he does not plan on ever attempting to make it easier to read, he enjoys the struggle people face when he’s put in a position where he has to write anything down. (Plus it helps conceal his errors if they do figure it out)

He does genuinely want kids in his life. Even if they can’t be his biologically. Being “uncle Daryl” is the best feeling he’s ever experienced, and he really wants to experience that with you if you’d allow it/want it (he would never pressure you to have kids)

Headaches and migraines plague his existence and they always have

He had super long hair as a kid and one of his punishments was his dad shaving it all off, which is why he kept it short until after the outbreak.

He would let you paint his toenails, or match his middle finger with whatever polish you decided to wear

This dude HATES clowns. Seeing a walker in a clown get up would absolutely kill him on the inside

You got sick? Don’t worry about it, he will absolutely attempt to make you soup from scratch using bone marrow and whatever else he can find

Fishing is not his thing. He knows how to, but he much prefers just catching them by hand or with a spear.

The closer you two get, the more likely he is to try and convince you that Bigfoot is real

Daryl is a secret star wars fan

He does NOT like country music, Led Zeppelin, Rob zombie, Ozzy osbourne and Lamb of god are much more his thing

He wasn’t a technology kind of guy, so if you tried to explain any aspect of social media to him he’d be completely lost (he didn’t even have a cellphone)

He has a super dry sense of humor

If he had to choose between starving to death or eating plain Cheerios, he would choose death.

One of the reasons he isn’t big on showering is because he doesn’t have a strong immune system from his childhood neglect, and he doesn’t want to shock his body and get sick

He also just hates the way soap feels on his skin. It’s way too sticky

During sex, he’s not strictly dominant or submissive, he’s ready to adapt to whatever you want, even if that means being strictly vanilla

He’s afraid of Santa Clause

And the Easter bunny

He’s willing to try anything once, even if he doesn’t think he’ll like it

He knows a lot of information on plants and herbs, so depending on your mood, he’ll try to find a flower to brighten your day with a little scribbled note explaining its meaning (because you can actually read his atrocious writing)

He’s never once told you he loves you, and your relationship wasn’t a spoken fact. His actions tend to speak louder than words, and if you say you love him, he will occasionally reply with a “back at ya.” Or “me too”

He always has weird shit in his pockets, like cool rocks he found, dead flowers, and fallen leaves.

He genuinely does not understand a single thing that Eugene says, and he never has.

The first time he ever kisses you on his own (you 100% have to make the first move) it’s a very rough and embarrassed act where he just grabs you and plants one in ya before you can even think about what’s happening

He will change his favorite color to whatever yours is, because if you can see beauty in it, then it’s all he can see from then on out

#daryl dixon #the walking dead daryl #daryl dixion x reader #twd #daryl dixion imagine #daryl imagines #daryl x y/n #twd daryl

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violentdelightsandviolentends · 6 months ago

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give lando a chance.

god knows i’m not his number one defender or anything, but I do think a lot of the criticism he’s received - especially after spain - is unnecessary.

he seems to be the only one bringing the fight to max at the moment. yes, he absolutely did get a bad start last sunday, and him trying to squeeze max off track ruined both of their starts. but, he won’t do it again. we live and we learn, and he’s pretty good at learning from his on track mistakes for the most part.

I just think people have got to give him a minute. max has 4 more years of experience in f1 than lando, and is a 3x WDC - of course lando isn’t going to be beating him all the time all of a sudden.

lando has also never really been in the position to beat max before. the mclaren has never been a reliable enough car. yes, carlos won in one, and so did daniel, but they were kind of one offs. the mclaren isn’t usually fighting at the very front. for the first half of last season it was a midfield car at best. this is the first time that lando has had a car that can fight for the win every week, and that does take some getting used to. it took max some getting used to in the red bull all those years ago - that wasn’t always a reliable car. he had so many dnfs and issues in his early seasons.

and that’s not even taking mclaren and their strategy into account. they, as a team, haven’t been fighting at the front for a long time. red bull are used to it, but mclaren need to adjust, and quickly. their strategy has let lando down a few times recently, so it’s not solely on him as a driver.

he’s p2 in the championship for the first time in his career. he’s the only driver to have scored points at every round this season. people are acting like he isn’t worthy of any praise whatsoever. yeah, he’s still making mistakes, but there’s only really one man on that track that doesn’t make any mistakes at all. and he’s the world champion.

just give him a chance, I reckon. he’ll adjust. we’ve seen that he has already - he’s not satisfied with p2 anymore. he wants to be winning. which is a huge change from last year, when he quite happily settled for p2 because he felt like he didn’t have a chance against max.

this is already the best season of his career. yes, there absolutely are criticisms of him that are valid, but you can’t deny that he’s one hell of a driver at the moment. mistakes and all.

I didn’t mean for this to turn into an essay, but there we go. there’s my two cents. <3

#murph talks f1 #lando norris #lando norris 4 #ln4 #mclaren formula 1 #mclaren formula one #mclaren #formula 1 #formula one #f1

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nicolesainz · 2 years ago

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True soulmates (BC 21)

Ben Chilwell x reader

Warnings: mostly fluff, mentions of sex, angst, (Lance Stroll is mentioned as the ex boyfriend, sorry to all my Lance girlies)

Summary: what can a footballer give you more that your ex boyfriend couldn’t? what can one find in the arms of an childhood friend?

“Either you tell me the truth or you’ll never see me again!” Lance’s hand was on the door knob, waiting to be unlocked.

“What can’t you understand? Me and Ben are simply friends. I’ve known him my whole life!” I shout to his face, clearly being pointed as the liar once again.

“And that’s the problem! He’s too comfortable around you that thinks he can flirt with you even when I’m in the same room!” He is pulling his hair from frustration, trying not to scream.

“He isn’t flirting! Lance, come on. We’ve been together for two years. Ben is old enough to know what’s right or wrong”

“I tolerated him for two years and that’s enough. If I can’t reason neither of you, then there’s no point in us being together anymore” Lance’s words are bitter. They instantly hurt.

I don’t move. I only let my hot tears run down my cheeks, pooling my eyes and causing them to take a light shade of red.

“Even when we are away at races, he still somehow manages to capture your attention more than I do.”

His words may stab me like a knife but are true. Me and Ben were attached to the hip ever since I can remember. If I am not spending time with my family or Lance, it's definitely around Ben or along with his teammates. When I am with Lance on a race weekend, Ben and I tend to FaceTime a lot, because I skip a lot of his games with Chelsea.

That's when Christian's words echo once again in my brain

"You two are the definition of true soulmates. Completing each other."

"Do I lack in something? Is there something I can't give you that he can? Please tell me, Y/N!" the pleading Canadian's eyes were full in pain and lost all possible faith in me.

Lance has been nothing but an absolute sweetheart to me all those years. Introduced me from the very first moment to his friends, family, fellow f1 drivers. He has made me feel so many wonderful emotions, such as happiness, joy, pride, excitement.

And many more emotions but not one...that is love.

“I’m sorry Lance. I truly am.” I lower my head and let the tears drop on the floor. Why did this had to happen?

I can see his shadow approaching me and his fingers under my chin, raising my head so I can look him in the eyes. He isn’t mad. He looks disappointed and also sad. I feel awful for causing him pain.

“I didn’t want to make you feel like this! I swear if I could turn back time, I-“

“It’s okay. I am the one who’s sorry. I feel like you were wasting your time with me, when you should have been with someone else.”

“That’s not the case Lance! I love you. So very much.”

“Just not the way you love him”

It was the bitter truth. The comfort and security Ben made me feel was like no other. I always knew that my love for him was something special. I just had to bury it deep down and lock it up for the sake of our friendship.

“I know you love me Y/N. And I do too. I’ve spent two amazing years with you. You’ve been immense support to me. When everyone talked shit about me, you were the one to talk them down and defend me. That’s something I’ll forever cherish”

“And I will continue doing so. Whoever ends up in your arms, I hope she’s the one. No matter what, I will be a call away”

Lance wraps me into a final hug. I inhale deeply and close my eyes as I exhale. The pain was out of my body. If I could repay him in any way, I would do it in a heartbeat.

“If you ever feel like coming to a race again, hit me up. I’ll be more than happy to see you around. The guys too.”

“Of course. Keep an eye for me on the paddock. Good luck on everything. Goodbye Lance”

“Go tell him the truth. I’m sure there’s a happy ending awaiting”

————————————————————————

I look the time at my phone, 15:30. Since I was still in Silverstone, I had to travel all the way back to Cobham. He was still in training. I couldn’t show up at his house unannounced.

On the way back, silence is almost deafening so I decide to call the player I know is in practice but will surely pick up

“To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I’m coming over Chris. Don’t tell it to anyone and especially Ben”

“Uhhh, aren’t you supposed to be in Silverstone with Lance? What happened”

“I made a huge mistake. To which you helped me realize and Lance”

“Wait, did you guys brake up? And what did I do?”

“Nothing bad Puli. Don’t worry. Just helped me realize the truth”

“Oi, who’s on the phone? New girl captain?” I can hear Ben from the other side of the line, approaching Christian

“I’m hanging up. Don’t tell anyone!” And I immediately close the line. If Ben knew I was coming back he’d start calling me, asking questions I can’t possibly answer from the phone.

There are a million questions going back and forth in my mind right now.

What will Ben say?

Will he laugh at me?

Will he ever talk to me again?

Will we even be friends after this?

Will he hate me?

The list goes on as I finally reach the training center. Now it’s 17:00 and about time they finish practice.

I see Mason with Christian and Ben in the middle of their group. Christian is the first one to eye me, nudging Mason, who has a questioned look on his face.

Finally, Ben realizes his friends have gone quiet and raises his head and my heartbeat too.

“Y/N? Are you okay? What happened?” Ben rushes towards me, abandoning Mason and Christian.

“Aren’t you supposed to be two hours away in Silverstone?” Mason asks but before I could answer Christian drags him away

“We will talk later Ben. Text us when you get home” the American says as he walks away with his fellow British footballer, whispering something in his ear

I can’t feel my legs. My throat and mouth are all dried up. My stomach is tangled and my heart is racing faster than any car.

“You’re literally shaking. Did something happen between you and Lance? Did he hurt you?”

“No” is the only word I manage to utter. Great!

“No he didn’t hurt you or no nothing happened?”

“He didn’t hurt me” I can’t even look him in the eyes

“So something else happened?”

It’s now or never!

“We broke up. We had a fight. We ended things in good term and he told me to come here.”

“Why did you guys break up? And is he stupid? He kicked you out?”

“He didn’t kick me out. He suggested I came here and give you some explanations”

“Me? What did I do? Why do I need explanations?”

Oh god. This is horrifying.

“Ben, the reason we broke up is because i don’t love him”

“Oh”

“I love you”

And terror rushes all over my body.

He isn’t saying anything.

I am starting to get even more scared.

“Y/N..”

“I’m sorry Ben. You had to know. It’s totally okay if you don’t feel the same way. First and foremost I want us to remain friends. We’ve known each other so many years that I’d be a pity to ruin everything over a silly thing I said”

“I don’t find it silly at all” he finally says

Ben raises my head by placing two fingers under my chin. Once he takes a look at my teary red eyes and quivering lips, he brings his lips onto mine, placing a soft kiss on them. He deepens the kiss, wrapping his arms around my waist. Instead of feeling suffocated, I feel even more alive than before.

It’s a kiss I’ve been dreaming of having with him. No one else but Ben. Years of anticipation and now this happens. Like a dream came true.

“This will sound extremely selfish but I couldn’t wait for the day you’d finally land in my arms” he whispers in my ear as I have my face cupped by his hands

“I couldn’t let myself fall in love with anyone else. Not when you are here. It felt so wrong and unfair.”

“You can’t even imagine how many nights I’ve spent sleepless, wanting to say those three words to you, Y/N”

“You can now”

“I love you. I will love you for as long as it takes. And will continue to do so. I’m sorry for not saying how I feel sooner. I could have had you in my arms way sooner”

“Well, as Christian said, we are true soulmates, so one way or another, we always were together.”

#ben chilwell #ben chilwell x reader #ben chilwell x y/n #ben chilwell one shot #ben chilwell fanfic #ben chilwell fluff #chelsea

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angelicyouth · 1 year ago

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Lavender ; Chapter 3

⇢ pairing: stan marsh x broflovski!reader

⇢ genre: summer romance ; soulmates AU

⇢ synopsis: ❝You looked forward to attending the sleepy, beachside town's famous carnival every summer. But not because you got to see your cousins or your friends after a year of not seeing them—it was to see the boy behind the ring toss booth.❞

⇢ warning: sexual content

⇢ [series masterlist] ; [previous] ; [next]

// SEVENTEEN:

Slipping through the familiar neon-colored yellow of the ribbon barricading the boardwalk, your hands begin to fiddle with the jewelry adorning your fingers in anxiety. When you see the ring toss booth a few feet away, you can’t help but to get frozen in place from the fear that Stan won't remember you—again.

Lifting his head up at the sounds of your approaching footsteps, the taller teen sees your foreignly meek form as he squints his eyes to clearly make out your face from the distance. “... Y/N?”

As if you got hit by a freight train, all of the air in your chest and the suffocating anxiety suddenly gets rushed out of your body as your eyes begin to embarrassingly well at the corners. You can’t stop the wobbly grin that threatens to overtake your whole entire face because after all those years, he finally remembers you.

“Stan!” You yell in excitement as you rapidly close the remaining space left between the two of you with a delighted skip to your step, your arm swinging wildly in an exaggerated wave.

“God, shut the hell up. It’s too early for you to be so damn loud—like those fucking girls who have to gossip before homeroom starts even though they just saw eachother yesterday.” The bleached blonde moans before he notices the strange look in your eyes, an eyebrow quirking up in wordless question.

You belatedly notice that he’s waiting for you to explain before you fumble out a reply. “Oh, uh. I’m just confused because you’re two years older than me.”

His face contorts into thinly veiled disgust at your words. “What…? Fuck, are you 15?”

“Huh? What the fuck are you talking about? You told me that you were 17 two years ago so you shouldn’t be in high school anymore. You mentioned homeroom so I was confused. We’re not supposed to be the same age, dumbass.” Quickly defending your words, you cross your arms over your chest in accusation.

He scoffs, “Are you fucking with me? Because I don’t remember ever telling you that.”

“Not like that means much because you never remember shit anyways, but you did. Unless I was right and you actually are a dumbfuck who constantly fails high school and gets held back a grade.” Rolling your eyes, you place a hand on your cocked hip as you await his next response.

Sending you a heated glare, his hands reach into the pockets of his denim jeans before he grabs his wallet and pulls out his school ID. Holding onto the proffered piece of plastic, you internally wonder at how someone can look so good in a yearbook photo as your fingers brush over the obnoxious green decorating the borders of the scratched up card.

Stanley Marsh (Junior) is neatly printed in black ink at the left hand bottom, right underneath his picture.

You wonder if you remembered wrong as you hand the object back, taking note of the teen’s last name. Heaving your body on top of the hard counter, your feet leisurely begin to dangle back and forth as you then begin to think about how his driver license photo must look.

“That’s it?” He asks in exasperation but all he gets is an irritated glance before he quickly dismisses the previous interaction and continues, “Whatever. Come put some work in since it’s the reason you always come early—the carnival is about to open soon.”

“Yeah fucking right, I’m not hauling ass for you again.” Obnoxiously snorting your distaste, your hands pull out a lollipop from the depths of your skirt’s pocket before you stick the crystal sweetness into your mouth.

“Then why the hell are you here? To make my life even more miserable?” A larger hand appears in front of your face, your eyes rolling as you harshly slap a new lollipop onto the palm of his hand as hard as you can.

“I already told you last year. Or did you forget your hearing aids when I did, old man? I’m not into ring toss or whatever—I’m into you.” You smirk around your sucker, your palm getting placed onto the space between the two of you in order to lean your body closer to his.

“I know that, idiot.” He averts his eyes as he brings a hand up to softly push at your face, walking away to grab his employee lanyard that held his keys.

Quickly sitting up straight in surprise, your eyes widen just a bit. “Wh—You do?”

Sending you a smug look, the taller teen spares you a quick glance at your surprised reaction before rolling his eyes. “It’s pretty fucking obvious with the way you look at me, dumbass.”

You pause for a moment because you didn’t think you were that obvious (but then your mind brings up your bold actions throughout the years and yeah, nevermind). “... And how do I look?”

His eyes leisurely trail up your body and back down before his lips settle into a smirk around his lollipop, the teen leaning forward to bring his face closer to yours, “Like you want to help me set up this booth—free from charge.”

・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

After having your usual yet still-fun day at the carnival with the guys, you stop by Stan’s booth to help him clean up when people begin to leave and the once blinding lights begin to dim. Watching as he closes the stand, a sudden idea pops up into your head.

“Hey.”

Granting you a quick glance, the other teen hums to let you know that he was listening as he busies himself with closing the booth. Taking that as your cue to continue, you speak up again. “Do you want to sneak off to the beach?”

Leaning his back against the metal structure of the now properly closed stand, he crosses his arms over his chest as he sends you an amused look. “You mean the same beach that’s closed at this time of the night?"

Never stopped you before, you think to yourself.

“Sure, whatever.” He finally decides as you hide your excitement at the notion of finally hanging out with Stan at a different location than the carnival, a skip to your step as you begin to lead the way.

Sitting side by side on the warm sand, you both are silent as you appreciate the brightly twinkling stars shining overhead your bodies and the perfect breeze to the night. The smile that appeared when Stan accepted your invitation has stayed permanently etched onto your face, accompanying you to your journey to the beach and currently present as you take in your surroundings.

“Let’s swim.” The deep baritone of Stan’s voice interrupts your happy humming, causing your fingers to still to a stop as they comb through the soft sand.

“Swim?”

“Yeah, it’s where you get into the water and move your legs like—”

“Oh, fuck off! I know what it is, asshole!” Mustering up all of your strength to have him topple over, you shove at the bleached blonde’s arm but he barely budges from his seated position.

“Then why’d you ask?” He snickers in a teasingly condescending tone, getting up to dust the remnants of sand stuck on his hands before he steps closer to the water.

“Ah, I see. Here we are, on a spontaneous trip to the beach with no swimsuits prepared so what do we do? We strip down. Jeez, Marsh. If you wanted to see my banging body so badly then you only had to ask nicely.” You tease back, watching as the ocean gently laps at the teen’s feet as if coaxing him into their cool embrace.

“I’m offended you think so lowly of me to assume that I’d need to make up an excuse to see any girl’s body.” Stan cockily says, your words lost on your throat at his attractive confidence.

You’re quiet as you watch him slowly lift his shirt over his head, the taller teen granting you a handsome smile as he makes a show of the action before throwing the article of clothing at your face.

・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

“You look like a fucking idiot.” Stan says as he watches you float on your back like a starfish, the waves of the ocean softly rocking you back and forth in just your bra and panties.

“Says you—I’m only here to make you feel less self conscious of the fact that you’re down to your boxers in the middle of the ocean, loser. And you can say that I look like an idiot all you want but at least I’m not an actual dumbass like you!”

Lukewarm water splashes against your face in retribution for your words, the action prompting you to open your eyes in anger as the bleached blonde loudly laughs. “Fuck you! You’re the one who fucking invited me here! How do I know that you don’t have any ulterior motives to taint my precious chastity?”

“Chastity my fucking ass! You’re the one who made an innocent girl like me strip down for your own pleasure! And you’re the one who looks shady as hell making me swim with your soaked rat looking ass!” You yell, bringing a hand up to attack back before you both eventually call a truce to avoid one of you drowning.

(You definitely won that though because Stan begins to cough up salt water like a little bitch).

・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

“I love how the stars look, they never look like this out in the city. I wish there was some at home but it’s okay—it makes nights like these more special.” Your voice is soft as you reminisce out loud, your head angled upward to watch the moon come out and say hello.

You don’t hear a response so you shift your eyes back to your companion, only to find him already staring back at you. He doesn’t look away when you make eye contact, his unfaltering eyes almost black in the darkness of the night and making it hard to decipher his current expression.

“Hey.” Your voice is quiet between the space between the two of you, your eyes leisurely watching as droplets of salt water race down the smooth expanse of skin on Stan’s face before they gently curve around the edges of his slicked lips.

“Hm?” His voice is deep, a lazy drawl as your gaze slowly follows the stray strands of hair that escapes the rest of his slicked-back locks of bleached blonde.

“You know how I said that I’m into you..?” Your words are almost at a whisper now—as if scared to break this intimate bubble surrounding the two of you and the charged air quickly filling up that space.

As if scared to have the stars and moon as witnesses to your words.

He doesn’t say anything as his eyes follow the soft pink of your tongue as it quickly darts out to wet your lower lip. “Well I was wondering if you…”

You don’t finish your sentence, leaving it to trail off into the night before the taller teen decides to take it upon himself to finish what you were saying. “Felt the same way?”

It’s silent as you don’t confirm whether or not he was correct in his guess, your eyes finally taking reprieve of the attractive sight in front of you to shyly look off to the side. Your teeth worries themselves into your lips, wondering if you made a mistake in bringing this up when rejection would’ve made you awkwardly leave the ocean in just your bra and panties.

The deep baritone of his voice leans towards suggestive, the corner of his lips lifting upwards into a provocative smirk. “Want to figure it out?”

The familiar lilt of Stan’s words fills the space, causing you to look back up as the moonlight perfectly hits the sharp angles that make up the visage of the handsome boy in front of you. You’re not sure if it’s because you only see him a few days every year but you don’t think you’ll ever get tired of the hypnotizing sight that makes up Stan Marsh—the way he finally looks at you and only you with that special attention.

You slowly nod as if in a trance, the teen lifting his larger hand out of the water to extend his arms towards your body with his palm facing up. “Then why don’t you come over here and find out?”

Holy fucking shit, you think to yourself as your hand mirrors his to gently interlock your fingers together.

Once joined, Stan pulls to bring your body closer to his, his unoccupied hand finding purchase at the back of your submerged thigh once you’re chest to chest. Guiding your limb, he brings your leg up to wrap around his waist to which you bring your other one up to completely lock around his form.

He lifts your interlocked fingers up so that it’s in the space beside his pierced ear, letting go of your hand so that you can wrap both your arms around his broad shoulders. Lightly skimming his fingers against the bare expanse of your underwater waist, he takes his time in bringing his own hands around your hips as you both keep your eyes heatedly locked on one another.

“Do you have your answer yet?” He murmurs, your faces so close to one another that you can feel his plump lips skim against your own after his mouth sounds out every word.

“Not yet.” You mumble back, your eyes half-lidded as your breaths begin to mingle with one another and his hands tighten ever so slightly over your soft skin.

Stan hums before your eyes slowly flutter shut when he finally closes the space between the two of you, the taste of your kiss sweet despite the lingering saltiness of the ocean water. All you can feel is the same connection that forces your body to follow the same path to the ring toss booth every year, as if your mouths were two magnets leading its owners to their rightful places in the universe.

It was like suddenly, oxygen wasn’t so high on the list of basic needs anymore because Stan Marsh suddenly pushed his way to the top. Breathing was only a technicality that forced your slicked lips to part every so often in gasped airs before they hurriedly pressed back against each other again.

“Let me make it up to you—for all the times that I forgot.” The deep baritone of his voice beautifully mixes in with his lust-induced huskiness, the vibration inflicted in his chest causing a cacophony of goosebumps to arise as the teen doesn’t give you any time to breath before his lips begin to lightly skim against the wet expanse of your neck.

His warm tongue follows the slight suction of his mouth before a high-pitched moan gets forced out of your throat, his teeth creating a path of greedy imprints against the vivid reds and deep purples possessively marking you as his. You sob when in contrast, his tongue begins to delicately lap at the areas of abuse as his arms slightly tighten their hold around your waist.

“Those are something to remember me by.” Stan presses his heated words against the dips of your collarbone, a mantra of praises being pressed against your skin as if they were prayers to his devoted worship towards your body that is his temple.

And of course, you think as you always do: I would never forget you.

・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

“You always watch me play. You do it this time.” Stan orders you, the both of you taking desperate reprieve from the harsh sun rays caressing the boardwalk as you both sit side by side on the counter and underneath the shade provided by the hanging prizes.

“Whatever.” You lazily mutter, rolling your eyes at the command as you reach out for the worn out rings without ever leaving your seated position.

This goes on for a while—you leisurely throwing the colorful objects as they hit the glass necks of the bottles with a satisfying sound. But it isn’t until you get to the color yellow when Stan shifts impossibly closer to your body, an expressionless look on his face when you spare him a glance before the ring meets all of the other perfectly stacked ones.

Green is next but before you can bring your arm back to gain momentum for a throw, Stan’s large hand finds purchase on the exposed skin of your inner thigh from underneath the soft material of your skirt. Your throat shifts to swallow when his thumb begins to massage soothing circles into your warm skin, your attention waning but nonetheless making the next throw.

Grabbing blue, the bleached blonde leans his face against the heated solace of your neck as his plump lips begin to lightly skim against the expanse of your skin. The arm closest to your body wraps around your waist to bring your body even closer to his, light kisses getting pressed against his previous marks from last night as his other hand tightens their possessive hold over your thigh.

Your voice is breathless, dangerously waning as you weakly admonish the teen. “Stan.”

“Play the game.” His voice is ruthlessly firm in authority, demanding you of your obedience and leaving no room for protests.

You flick your wrist and somehow the ring makes its mark—you’re not sure how as it dangerously wobbles before deciding to barely settle. Blindly reaching out for dark purple, you bite your lower lip to deter any noise from leaking out of your slightly parted lips after a harsh suck from Stan.

The taller teen gently grabs your unoccupied hand and places it on his own denim-clad thigh. “What’s wrong? You only need one hand to throw, right?”

Your chest quickly heaves up and down from arousal as your head slowly nods off in a daze to his redundant question, your eyes dangerously fluttering shut at the heavenly sensations inflicted by the bleached blonde. “Come on, baby—play. I’m not going to tell you again. If you win, you’ll get a prize and I know you’ll like it.”

Hands shaking, your grip is feeble before you miss, causing Stan to immediately let go of his tight hold over your body to stand up and collect all of the rings. “Wha—!”

“Hm? Doesn’t feel so great to have your concentration ruined, right?” The taller teen’s voice is nonchalant as he gathers the colorful objects into a neat pile, taking his time in arranging the objects and not sparing you a glance.

Ah, the incident from last year…

How fucking petty.

“Wait! Don’t I still get a prize though?” There’s an indignant pout on your face as you watch him settle down onto his stool away from your seated position, the chair tucked all the way at the back of the booth.

He takes his time as he hums, his face thoughtful at your words as he appraises your form before he extends a hand out towards you. “Well you only need seven to win. Come here.”

You don’t need to be told twice before you clumsily rush over to his spot, your body automatically bringing itself to straddle the taller teen and looping your arms around his shoulders. “Here? It’s a little messy.”

Warily eyeing the cobwebs and clutter of boxes hidden from the wandering eyes of patrons, a hand shoots out to grasp at your chin to guide your face towards his. “Who gives a shit? We’re going to get messy anyways.”

Stan builds the pace slow—tantalizingly slow with featherlight touches that are almost nonexistent against the exposed skin of your waist and the hardened nub of your nipples. It’s incredibly slow, agonizingly in its motions that he has you violently aching and whimpering in no time as he caresses every dip and curve of your body with a pressure that just isn’t enough.

“Stop playing with me!” You impatiently wail out loud, two long fingers getting roughly shoved into the wet cavern of your mouth at your words before Stan’s dark eyes peer out from behind your shoulder to look at the people of the boardwalk.

Finding that the coast was clear, he resumes his slicked ministrations of having his heated tongue languidly brush against the sensitive column of your neck as he growls in an all-knowing voice. “But you’re just so endearing when you’re desperate.”

“Please.” You beg around his fingers, his eyes hooded as he takes in what a wrecked sight you already are before he brings his other hand below your body to lightly ghost over your clothed core.

Feeling the steadily leaking arousal against the thin barrier, he roughly shoves the soft material aside as his ring-adorned fingers begin to gather your slick. Stan’s eyes darkly hold yours, an embarrassed blush prettily painting your heated cheeks at the attention before he uses the fingers inside of your mouth to force your face back towards his.

“Don’t.” He snarls in a commanding tone, your thighs tightly clenching together at the authority he holds over your obedient body as you force yourself to make eye contact with him. It’s husky and low when he laughs, “Good girl. Where do you think you’re going, beautiful?”

You whine at the two fingers he now has inside of you, his eyes greedily watching as they pump in and out of your core. “You’re already so fucking wet. Did I do this to you? Hm?”

Your head clumsily nods in ragged motions, your body bouncing on his palm in time to his finger’s thrusts as you can hear the cocky smirk to his words. Wailing out loud when he leaves you empty, Stan curses underneath his breath when strings of slick connect the two of you together.

“Look at how messy my pretty girl gets for me. Come on—ask for it, baby.” The taller teen commands when he brings his strained member free from the confines of his pants, his hands wrapping around his girth to pump himself to full attention.

“Please, Stan. Fill me up—I’ve been good.” You sob, your pitch high and whiny as he grants you an affectionate kiss against the perspiration beading at your hairline.

“Yeah, and you sound good too. Look good, taste good—fuck. How fucking lucky am I?” His voice is breathy as he rubs his leaking tip against your folds, your face buried against his sweat-sheened neck in an effort to hide your moans.

Before you can beg him once more, your head gets thrown back as he roughly fills you up. Your mouth is open in a wordless scream as you tightly clench around him, Stan watching the point where you’re both connected as you greedily take him in with every harsh thrust.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head as his hands firmly grip your waist, forcing your body down against his lap as he fills you up when you both simultaneously climax. You can feel him painting your slick walls, Stan orchestrating a pretty whimper out of your slightly parted lips before you tiredly collapse into his warm embrace.

The floodgates that Stan had opened so long ago—you were now drowning.

I love you, I love you, I love you.

・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

“Kyle!” You throw your whole body into the awaiting arms of your older cousin, the taller redhead a well-welcomed surprise to get home to after a night out at the carnival.

Giggling in delight as the curly-haired boy wraps his arms around your waist, the older of the two begins to spin you around. “How’ve you been, beautiful?”

“Terrible without you! You’re never here when I visit anymore!” You childishly whine, a pout on your face as you bring your hands up into fists as you teasingly hit his shoulder after every word.

He stops before he gives you a sad smile, an almost guilty look in his eyes as he plants a gentle kiss against the skin of your forehead. “I’m sorry, N/N.”

Humming in satisfaction at the apparent regret of your cousin and his undivided attention, you happily grin up at him. “Well since you’ve finally decided to grace me with your presence—we have to hang out!”

Kyle endearingly laughs and it’s a sound you hadn’t noticed that you’ve grown to miss so much. “Sure, sure. Just let me put my stuff away and get changed—we can do whatever you want to do afterwards.”

You ignore when your cousin worriedly yells after you to be careful when you slide down the railings of the stairs, nothing able to deter your bright mood as you giggle.

・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

Your sweet tooth has made an appearance so you decide on baking cookies to eat with some ice cream, the both of you humming along to the faint music playing in the kitchen and dancing along together from time to time. You were currently telling him all about the adventures that you and your friends got up to during your visits when the topic naturally transitioned to the teen that wasn’t quite your friend but still resided in the sleepy beachside town nonetheless.

“Wait. Stan..? Stan who, N/N?”

You’re distracted as you mix the ingredients together in a bowl, your hands working hard to ensure that everything is seamlessly blended together. “Huh? Oh, uh. It’s Marsh, Ky. Stan Marsh.”

It’s quiet for a moment as your cousin stares at you in wordless shock before he roughly grabs the bowl away from your grip, the sudden action catching you by surprise. “Hey!”

There’s a pout on your face until your eyes land on the serious expression of the redhead standing next to you, his voice low yet very firm. “Y/N.”

You don’t say anything as the skin between your eyebrows begin to furrow together, your body turning to lean against the kitchen counter to grant him your undivided attention. Quickly scanning Kyle’s face, you notice the suddenly ghostly pallor to his skin as his emerald eyes dart off to the side in avoidance.

“Stan Marsh committed suicide four years ago—on the first night of the carnival. It was the day you went home when you were still 13.”

You can’t breathe.

Your chest furiously works hard to heave up and down as your hands begin to dangerously tremble in confusion because this just couldn’t be right.

A laugh sounds horribly wrong as it tumbles out of your mouth, devoid of any amusement and disbelieving. “... What? Shut up, Ky. I saw him like an hour ago at the stand. I’ve seen him every single summer since I was 13.”

He looks confused for a second before his empty eyes look just a tad brighter in a flicker of recognition. “The ring toss stand..? Nobody uses that booth anymore, N/N. And it doesn’t feel right to take it down either because it was the last place that Stan was at before he…”

No.

No, no, no.

You push your cousin out of the way as you stumble up towards the staircase, your hands desperately grabbing onto the railing to support your violently shaking body. Kyle quickly follows after you, panic causing his voice to raise up in pitch. “Where are you going?!”

The wooden door slams open against the wall, the exposed skin of your knees screaming at you as you harshly drop your weight onto the carpet underneath your feet. Your eyes are frantic in your search, rapidly skimming along the multicolored spines of the books in front of you.

Yanking one out, you curse at yourself as a few books follow and loudly fall to the floor. Your hands fumble to flip past the pages within the object as a thin film of tears begins to quickly develop over your eyes, blurring your vision before you bring a tight fist up to scrub away the salty wetness.

Your eyes follow the black printed words of Stan Marsh, underneath the same exact school picture that he had shown you yesterday on his ID. White dots begin to dance along the peripherals of your vision as your head becomes increasingly light, a sob getting caught in your throat before you throw the yearbook onto the floor.

Turning around, you spot your cousin worriedly watching you from underneath the doorframe of his bedroom.

“Show me.”

・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

Stan, Kyle, Eric Cartman, & Kenny were here! :D

Written in graffiti against the wooden panels of the abandoned stand is the small message of remembrance made by your cousin and his friends. You feel completely hollow as you look upon the boarded-up booth, dusty and covered in spiderwebs.

“So this is why you go on a roadtrip at this time of the year…” Your voice comes out into a whisper, Kyle tightening his grip around your intertwined fingers as you stand at the eerily quiet boardwalk.

“Why didn’t anyone tell me?” Rubbed raw from your vocal anguish, your throat burns as your voice cracks after your whispered words.

Wh—I didn’t know they still had that, Clyde had said the year after you came back.

The both of you have twin sets of tears streaming down your faces, soft sniffles being heard from your two shuddering bodies. “I didn’t even know you knew him, N/N.”

Bringing up your unoccupied hand to harshly rub at your already swollen eyes, you unabashedly wail out loud. “Knew him? I fucking love him, Ky. I never even got to tell him.”

At the sight of his broken younger cousin, Kyle tugs onto your joined hands to bring your vulnerable form against his erratically heaving chest. It’s quiet for a moment, the only sounds being made were from the crashing waves from down below and the warm summer air traveling past the boardwalk.

“You said you still see him, right?” You nod against his chest, your face moving against the steadily growing damp spot you’re making into the soft material of his shirt.

“Tomorrow’s the last day of the carnival. I’m not sure why he’s never shown up for me or any of my friends but maybe he’ll be there for you again.” Escaping the safe solace of the elder’s embrace, your eyes catch sight of the soft yet melancholy smile curving along your cousin’s face.

“Oh, Ky. I’m so sorry.” You never thought about how hurt your cousin would be at the fact that his best friend only appeared in front of a girl who never really knew his friend when he was still alive.

You didn’t understand why either.

He pulls you back against his body, your arms tightening around one another once more. “It’s okay, N/N. I’m happy that two of my favorite people got to meet.”

“Where the fuck have you been you fucking asshole!” You both jolt at the suddenly loud voice interrupting the period of comfortable silence, the both of you turning to see a blonde with an orange parka tied to his waist and a larger brunette.

“Woah! Who’s the hottie?” A vivid shade of red quickly adorns your cheeks at the sudden compliment, an obnoxious whistle accompanying the unknown stranger's words.

“Fuck off, Ken. This is my cousin—my baby cousin.” Kyle rolls his eyes, his arms turning your body around to shield you from the wandering eyes of his friend.

“That fucking crybaby?” The brunette just condescendingly snorts, his eyes scanning along your body—not in appreciation like his companion but in vivid disgust.

“She knows Stan. She’s been seeing him every year during the summer since she was 13 and she just saw him earlier today.” Your cousin suddenly blurts out, all of your eyes widening at the random bit of information.

“Ha-ha. Very fucking funny, Kyle. I’m not high yet so don’t play with me.” The blonde has a laid-back smile on his face, his arms stretching high towards the sky before he crosses them behind his head.

“It’s true! I didn’t even know he died until like half an hour ago.” This time it’s your turn to impulsively yell out a response, your body automatically coming into the defense of your beloved older cousin.

It’s quiet for a tense second as the two boys in front of you take the moment to study your face, their eyes thoughtful and calculating before the brunette opens his mouth. “What a fucking whack job! I guess it runs in the family, huh?”

Both you and Kyle furrow your brows in anger before the blonde harshly elbows the larger teen, his face serious for the first time since you’ve met him. “Prove it then—tell us something that some irrelevant rando wouldn’t know.”

You look towards your cousin before he gives you an encouraging nod, your hand shooting out to grab his own. You pause for a second because God, you could talk about Stan Marsh for hours.

“He…He got diagnosed with depression at a young age and has an ongoing problem with alcohol abuse, just like his dad. Stan starts his day with a shot and he hides his secret alcohol stash in the third drawer of his bedroom dresser, underneath all of his porn.” Your voice is quiet as you repeat the information because fuck.

Everything he has said or done were all giant red flags that your adolescent mind consistently overlooked. You can’t help but to think that you could’ve saved him if you looked harder, if you knew better.

If you were older like him.

“He bleaches his hair since he thinks it looks cool but mostly because he doesn’t want to look anything like his father. His strained relationship with his dad is also the reason why he got this job at the carnival—it was a big fuck you to him because he kept nagging at Stan to get a summer job. So, he figured that it’d spite him to get one that only required him to work three days a year.” The other three part their lips at your onslaught of words yet your mouth doesn’t stop as you shakily continue.

“He wears silver jewelry with three rings on his left hand and four on his right—he doesn’t realize he fiddles with them when he’s anxious. Sometimes, he suffers from insomnia so he’ll sneak past the locked fence at the beach to sit underneath the moon until the morning.” You don’t realize that your cheeks have become sticky with warm tears again, much similar to the faces of the other three as they carefully listen to your words.

“Stan talks to it sometimes and the lavender that surrounds the area of that one hidden spot at the beach is so fragrant that the smell of it helps lull him to sleep.” Bringing a hand up to clumsily scrub at your sore and already red eyes, your voice terribly cracks in the middle of your sentences but yet no one says a thing.

“… He was so tired.” You sob, “The universe never seemed to let him rest. But even then, his eyes were always so comfortingly soft around the edges whenever he found something funny. It was like all of the hues of every wonderful ocean and breathtaking sky found peace in his eyes, living in harmony for the sake of this beautiful boy.”

Escalating further, your cries turn into unabashed wails that fade off into the night sky if only for the moon and stars to witness. “You’d think that his hands would be rough from playing football or from playing the guitar but he was always so gentle—as if I was the most precious thing in the world and that he didn’t want anyone to take me away. I love him, Ky. Why did he leave us?”

And like the moon and stars shining up above, the boys could only watch as you broke in silence.

#south park #south park x reader #stan marsh x reader #stan marsh #south park fanfiction #lalawrites

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