"undoing This Character's Death Would Take Away His Sacrifice And Character Arc" Girl I Don't Give A

Overprotective/Angry Oscar x Reader! (OP81)

🍂🤍🍂🤍🍂🤍🍂🤍🍂🤍🍂🤍🍂🤍🍂🤍🍂🤍🍂🤍🍂🤍🍂🤍🍂🤍🍂

Summary:

It wasn’t that he was jealous.

No, that wasn’t the right word for it.

You were his.

He knew that, you knew that- hell, the whole world seems to know that.

So why didn’t this fucking guys get the hint?

A/N: something about a man defending your honour, just makes me absolutely feral.- also think is kind short but I hope y’all enjoy! 🫶🤍

Masterlist

🍂🤍🍂🤍🍂🤍🍂🤍🍂🤍🍂🤍🍂🤍🍂🤍🍂🤍🍂🤍🍂🤍🍂🤍🍂🤍🍂

Oscar has been throwing daggers all evening. Sharp stares and ever sharper comments at the prick investor sat across from the two of you.

He hated these events, even claiming he wasn’t going. But when you sauntered your way out of the bathroom, adorned in his favourite black dress- your hair and makeup making you appear as a goddess in front of him- he was done for.

Now stuffed into an uncomfortably tight suit, being held hostage at the dinner table. Forced to suck it up and smile, nod politely and laugh at the dumb idiots jokes- well, that was the usual script.

Oscars mood has been soured the second you two had sat down. The snobby rich investor refused his outstretched hand to grasp onto your wrist, which had been laying casually on the table- barley clutching onto a half empty glass of wine.

You had tried to pull back in a shocked response. But instead of letting go, the man held you tighter. Causing the golden bangles adoring your wrist to bite into your skin. Your body went stiff at the unwanted touch of the man.

Oscar was on his feet quick, his hand slammed hard onto the table. silverware clanging together, your wine toppling over- staining the white tablecloth. His narrowed gaze burned holes in the man, his face gone red as his chest heaved. Now leading forwarding on the table, arms straining as he towered over the man. He spoke; low and deadly.

“Don’t fucking touch what’s not yours.”

A snarl-like growl bubbled in the back of his throat as he watched the man’s hand retreat slowly. Almost jumping the table the way the man’s fingers lingered on your skin.

Only becoming seated once more after forcing the man to apologise, twice.

Ignoring the mumbles and whispers of his colleagues and mangers as he lowered himself back into his assigned seat, one last sharp glare sent across the table as his hand found yours. A tight reassuring squeeze as you tried to hide your smile, a heated blush burning your neck at your- usually reserved- boyfriends actions.

Oscar didn’t miss the way you had retread yourself. The way your shoulders slumped as your hands fiddled in your lap, gaze drawn down. A small pout on your lips, the sparkle of the evening no longer shining in your eyes.

Since then, he hasn’t payed attention to a single thing that came out of the man’s mouth. His attention fixated instead on you,

His fingers tracing yours as he holds your hand in his lap, an occasional brush of your hair over your shoulder. Light kisses placed in your knuckles.

You didn’t mind, reveling in the grounding touch of your love.

“Don’t you agree, Mr Piastri?”

The question caught Oscar off guard, his head snapping back to meet the man’s eyes. His eyes narrowing slightly, jaw clenched as he spoke through gritted teeth.

“I’m sorry, could you repeat that?”

The man chuckled, his gaze flicking to you. Oscars hand squeezed yours tighter as you fidget under the hungry stare of a stranger.

“I said; you are a very lucky man Mr Piastri. With such a beautiful woman by your side.”

The man stopped, and for just a second, you thought that was it. But no- of course he had to keep going;

“The things I would do to her, given the chance.” His comment topped up with the wiggling of his eyes browns and a wink sent your way.

The whole table fell silent as their attention fell on Oscar, watching him close as he processed the sickening comment. The man’s laugh dimming to a worried chuckled as he looked to the table for backup, his hands raising in mock defence as he met Oscar's eyes.

“Hey man, it was just a joke. No need to bite my head off.”

Oscar laughed.

A manic cackle that shook the room. You turned to him with a horrified expression, watching as he practically doubled over on himself. The laugh grew lounger as Oscar’s anger reach its boiling point.

The action was so out of character for the man, it had almost everyone staring at him as if he had grown a second head. Zac’s face twisted in shock and horror as he switched between Oscar and the investor, mouth opening and closing- never finding the right words to say.

You stood, a hand placed on Oscar's shoulder as you turned from the table. A silent plea to just leave. Oscars hand coming to rest atop of yours, his eyes softening slightly as they met yours.

But he shook his head, palmed you the keys for his car as his head snapped back to the man. Like a lion hunting its prey.

Your wide eyes meet Landos in a desperate attempt to communicate with the amused Brit- who was leaning back on his chair, arms crossed. A wide smile on his face as he watched the show.

‘Fuck. Oscar might actually kill him.’

You could see the veins in Oscar's neck, his suit bulging under the strain of his tightened muscles. -God if he flexed anymore the fabric might just disintegrate-

His fist clenched as he rose to his feet, slow and deliberate. Never breaking eye contact with the man.

He moved with purpose, sauntering his way over to the man. Each footstep a rattling echo in the silent room. Stopping mere inches from the man, his throat bobbing nervously as his eyes met yours in a desperate plea.

-please miss, call off your hound-

Oscars demeanor was one you had never seen, his eyes blackened, his face now calm, deadly so. Eyes brewing with a storming rage, His voice like ice;

“If you so much as think about her again-“

A large hand land heavy in the man’s shoulder, causing the man to jump. Oscar smirked, satisfied with the man’s reaction

“I’ll kick your fucking teeth in.”

The line delivered with a smile as the man choked back a shocked breath. Coughing to cover his discomfort under the weighted hand of your steaming boyfriend.

“Is that clear?”

The man nods quick, a sigh of relief leaving him as Oscar’s hand retreats from his shoulder.

Oscar has taken two steps away from the man, stopping dead as the idiot wouldn’t shut his mouth

“Whatever man, what do you expect when she’s dressed like that.”

The sickening crack of the man’s nose ran true, as Oscar’s hand collided with the now fractured appendage. The man’s chair tipping back from the action, sending him flailing to the floor, suit slowly turning into a bloodied mess.

The man shouted as Oscar turned on his heel, making a b-line for you. His arm slinging around your shoulder in a protective stance, coming to rest heavily across your body.The man’s shouts falling on deaf ears as Oscar steers you towards the exit.

His final act; the simple extension of his middle finger to the man as the heavy doors closed behind you.

🍂🤍🍂🤍🍂🤍🍂🤍🍂🤍🍂🤍🍂🤍🍂🤍🍂🤍🍂🤍🍂🤍🍂🤍🍂🤍🍂

Tagged:

@fangirlmusicbiashoe

(If y’all want to be apart of a permanent tag list, let me know on my masterlist post and I’ll start adding everyone!)

.

Happy to be of service

💜🇦🇺

🫶🏼🫶🏼🥹

Y’all! this FUCKING RACE

I have so many feelings, but it’s late here in the land down-under and I need to sleep

01/06/25 (McLaren)

Hey i rally love your writing! I was wondering, if your requests are open, and of yes you could do something with benny watts from the Queens gambit. With the hat rule( you Wear the hat, you ride the cowboy). Like maybe they are friends and she steals his hat and He asks her if she knows the rule. And shes like yes i do. If you dont want to ist totaly ok. Once again i love you writing thank youu

Hey so like… I know it’s been uh, years since you requested this. But; here it is haha! I stared this blog than immediately ditched it because life got in the way. But I’m here to let out some of this creative steam that’s blocking up my brain.

Side note, this is totally not proof read.

Also- she gets a little spicy

How’s that saying go?

Benny Wats, how would you begin to describe the man? Intelligent, Skilled, Quick witted, and undeniability jaw dropping, stupidity pretty. At least, that’s how you described him. Right now. Cackling meanisily as the words flow from your mouth. Delivered in a slurred, almost unrecognisable pattern thanks to the liquid courage flowing through your veins. Two beers, four shots and three of the “speciality cocktails” deep. The ‘speciality’ in question is tequila. In burns hot in your veins warming your body, causing it to flush with a glowing pink rays. The bounce off your, directing straight at Benny.

He had to admit when he suggested going to a bar to drink his sorrows away after a recent defeat. One that came so unexpectedly and hit him hard, cutting deep in his ego. He hadn’t expected for you to tags along. And he especially didn’t expect for you to get absolutely shit faced.

You sit across from him, grin wide on your flushed features, eyes twinkling with a fuzzy haze as the barley even on lights flicker in the dingy dive bar. It wasn’t the nicest place to be. But right now Beeny is looks at what he considered to be the most incredible view of his life.

Your shoulders are released against the worn leather of the booth, the (also barley even on) tank top sits crooked across your body. Your breasts essentially spilling out of your bra. The jacked you wore on the once fridged autum night now lays abondoned. Slung poorly across the back of your chair.

He had to call it. Benny was a gentleman after all, and he fears if you keep looking at him like that, sitting so prettily across from him- he shuffles slightly in his seat, suddenly growing uncomfortable in his once lazed position.

“Okay, pretty thing.” He practically coos at you as he stands. His skim frame hovering over you. You shrink at little at this, feeling the weight of his stare and the tickly of his words in your chest.

“Time to go.” He extends a hand out to you. Allowing you to slowly stand, head reeling slightly tipping back as if the weight of your own extremely had not been known to you.

He steadies you quickly. Arms reaching to your waste, allowing you to wobble slightly in place. Providing a barrier so you don’t eat shit, essentially. One you are stead he’s quick to move. Gathering up his coat and yours in his arm. Reaching for his hat, you are quick to act. The movement surprising the man. You snatch his hat from the table, clutching it close in your arm.

“I got ya hat.” You smile a wicked grin at him, wiggling the before mentioned item in your hand. Allowing it to dangle enticingly at Beeny. Your eyes shining, glinting with mischief.

“And if you want if back-“ you begin, taking slow cautious steps backwards, finding your footing. The man tilts his head at you, a stern look is his bright eyes, but a small smile rested upon his face. His shifts the jackets to one arm, silently preparing for some kind of antict.

“Your gonna have to catch me!” You yell the last part of your sentence as you bolt through the front door of the bar. Benny swears under his breath. Fumbling with his wallet he throws a stack of whatever amount on the table before running after you. A boyish laugh rumbling in his chest.

As he jogs up to his car, been stops in his tracks. You are leaned against the passenger side door, arms crossed with a shit eating smile etched across your face. His hat, lay triumphantly atop your head.

Benny can’t help the heat that consumes him. His mind going foggy and his head spinning as he sees you, in his hat. He didn’t know it was an image that could illicit such a reaction. But yet hear the man stands, battling with his emotions like some kid if teenager. He doesn’t know what consumes him.

He needs to be close to you.

Beeny practically stalked up to you, eyes narrow and pointed starting at you like a wild animal. You don’t know what to do, like a dear in headlights you stand frozen in place. He’s on you now. So close you can feel his breath on your lips. Hot bursts as he pants, practically drools over you.

One arm come up next to your head, softly resting on the cool metal of the car. The change in temperature is welcomed to Beeny. His other arm comes across you, not touching. He lays his palm on the metal of the door.

“Now darling.” It comes at low and raspy. Pulled from the back of his throat.

“You can’t just go around wearing a man’s hat like that-“ he lowers his voice into a husky whisper. He’s towering over you, making you almost feel small. Hands shaking as adrenaline kicks in. Your teeth pulling your lips into a light hold. Sucking harsh at the plump skin.

“There are rules about these things you know.” He says it like a secret, his thumb coming up to release you lip from the tortuous hold of your lips. Staring intently at the swelling skin.

You push back against the car slightly, head tilting to meet his gaze. Your eyes burn fierce into his. Causing another hit wave to push through his body, stomach tightening and his eyebrows shit up is surprise.

You blink once, then twice. Slow and calculated. Once you know his attention is fully on you, you swing both your arms around his neck. Pulling him flush with your body. Benny can’t help the groan that seeps through as you meet his gave once more.

“How’s that saying go again.” You query, rotating you palms up and moving to place them on top of his hat, sitting so pretty on your head. Pulling Beeny closer, forcing his to crouch slightly, tilting his back back to keep in sight.

“Save a horse. Ride a cowboy?”

You take the hat and place it harshly on top of Bennys head. Causing his to lose his footing and stumble back slightly.

A giggly erupting loudly from you as he places his hand onto top of his hat, on his head. And suddenly, it doesn’t feel right. His misses the way you glow, his hat sitting like a crown on top of your head. His misses that view already.

Broken Nails and Broken Promises

Eddie Munson x Reader

🥀🕷️🥀🕷️🥀🕷️🥀🕷️🥀🕷️🥀🕷️🥀🕷️🥀🕷️🥀🕷️🥀🕷️🥀🕷️🥀

Summary:

Where Eddie Munson comes banging down Jim Hoppers door, desperate to fix you relationship. One he truly and entirely destroyed in a single moment.

Warnings:

angst! (I tried), Slight mention of cheating! Very minor mentions of violence! Eddie pining over reader! Slight father son bond between Hop and Eddie! I think that’s it!

Word count: 1.7k

A/N: Y’all, it’s been a while! Now I know I’m late to the party however, Eddie Munson is one of my many fantasy husbands and I’ll be damned if you think I’m not going to change cannon just to bring him back. Hope y’all enjoy!

PART 2 HAS BEEN POSTED! “Shackled to you”

🥀🕷️🥀🕷️🥀🕷️🥀🕷️🥀🕷️🥀🕷️🥀🕷️🥀🕷️🥀🕷️🥀🕷️🥀🕷️🥀🕷️🥀🕷️🥀

🥀🕷️🥀🕷️🥀🕷️🥀🕷️🥀🕷️🥀🕷️🥀🕷️🥀🕷️🥀🕷️🥀🕷️🥀🕷️🥀🕷️🥀🕷️🥀

Eddie Munson is a royal pain in Jim Hoppers ass. An annoying, persistent, smart ass prick. Shoplifting, DUI, petty theft, assault. You name it, Hopper has caught Eddie doing it. But to be fair, Hopper had always been soft on the boy. Usually slapping him in cuffs before circling around the block and releasing Eddie with a few choice words and threats of actual, serious consequences next time. Hopper was always met with Eddies wicked grin and a mock salute as the boy stalked into the night.

But, that little prick did help save the world, and yeah he did try to be a hero and sacrifice himself, winding him up in the hospital for three months. Which is why, when Eddie comes crashing through Hops door, at 6am, on a goddamn Sunday, Hopper was ready to strangle the curly haired devil and drop his body in the lake. But he was stopped with an exaggerated raise of Eddie's pointer finger in his face. Eddies other hand lay perched dramatically on his hip as the boy heaved, years of smoking and minimal cardio was enough to wind the poor stoner. Who moments earlier had barreled out of his van, not even bothering to turn the damn engine off. The machine wining angrily in the distance at the decision.

“Okay I fucked up. Big.” Eddie manages to wease out, his hands emphasising his words with an exaggerated flap.

“And I need your help. And! Before you say anything, please just.” He stopped, eyes wild, scanning the room, looking anywhere but at Jim. Breath coming out heavy through his notisriles, lip pulled tight between his teeth. Still pacing the worn floor his fingers fly through his thick hair, curling into a fist at the back of his scalp. The familiar burn as his rings tug the unruly strands proves enough to ground him. His eyes flick up to meet Hoppers, desperate and wild.

He pushed out an exasperated breath as he started again;

“Please just, let me explain.”

—————————————————-

16 hours earlier:

You has been so excited, giddy even. Staring down at your freshly manicured nails. The ends rounded into a perfect point, coated in a deep, shiny crimson. Eddies favourite colour. A striking black “E” applied so delicately to your ring nail.

You had saved for months; pocket money, coins foraged from the depths of sofas, completing odd tasks for neighbours and friends.

Griminising at the memory of deep cleaning Steve Harrintons car, a tasks that most definitely wasn’t worth the twenty bucks.

All in an effort to surprise Eddie. Your Eddie.

You two tended to have wild conversations in his trailer, legs tangled together in the sheets. Bodies entwined so perfectly it’s as though you were made just to fit with him. ‘Sculpted from the gods like clay, moulded in their image’, thats what Eddie always said. It was one night, minds fizzy with a smoke filled haze, thoughts coming and going, bouncing between each other with smiles and quiet laughter. When he grabbed your hands in his, fingers tracing so delicately over yours.

“You know what would make you, like, even more breathtaking that you already are?” The boy pondered, that wicked grin encompassing his features,

“Oh. And what would that be, pretty boy?” You queried back, the nickname causing heat to rush to Eddies cheeks. His deep eyes meeting yours as he slowly lifted your hand closer to his face. You knuckles grazing lightly over his lips as he spoke.

“I’ve always been, distracted.” He hesitated, his lip becoming trapped by his teeth; “By a girls nails, you know?”

He answered his own question before you could speak.

“The way the look.” His free hand snaking around your waist, pulling you closer, ever impossibly closer.

“The way they feel.” His breath hot in your ear sending a shock down your spine as you arched your back.

“wrapped around me, dragging down my back leaving your mark on me. Pushing into my neck.” He had to stop, eyes closing as he inhaled in your scent. Fingers curling into the soft flesh of your hip. Bodies so close, his everything encompassing yours. Twisting together into one.

“Just something that crosses my mind is all sweetheart.” He nuzzles into your neck, stumble tickling your soft skin. Mouth inching closer to your neck, the area tensing as your heartbeat crashes against your eardrums.

Yeah, that night. That was the night you made your decision and began hatching your plan.

You were going to get your nails done if it was the last thing you do. For Eddie.

Which is why when you found him, lent so casually against a pole, with Crissy fucking Cunninghma’s tounge down his throat. He left hand pressed firmly on his chest, a perfectly manicured French tip of her right grazing his cheek. One single finger nail dragging down his neck. The fucker leaning into her touch, chin lifting to grant her more access.

Well, you lost your shit. Stalking up to the pair, reaching our to practically rip the petite blondes body away from his. Shoving her away, your brain went into overdrive, letting emotion take hold. Fist flying in the air before you could even comprehend your actions, colliding hard with the left side of Crissy’s dumb, perfect face. Her body hit the ground with a hard thud, a small steam of blood flowing slowly from the girls bottom lip. You sieved in anger, letting the emotion corse through your veins.

He had tried to explain, even dropping to his knees as he pleaded, begged. Hands clasped firmly together as he tried to be heard. But you weren’t listening, angry words spitting from your mouth in a hot rage. Crissy had come to Eddie to purchase from his illicit business. The girl practically coiled herself around him, limbs encompassing his like a cobra. She had tried to convince Eddie to allower her to pay him in a other way. Before he would refuse her lips were on his, stained with strawberry lipgloss.

He didn’t want this. But he didn’t stop her. He couldn’t, feet glued in place as his brain stopped communicating with his body. And that’s how you found him. Your anger was justified, of course he knew that. But what he didn’t expect was for you to just leave, to turn on your heels and walk away, as he sits on his knees in the dust.

“Princess. Please.” He pleaded, to wrecked to even pick himself up. One arm stretching slowly in your direction. Rind glad fingers grasping at the empty pace between you.

You turn, and for a moment, the boy has hope. He looks up at you, tears falling from his darkened eyes, staining his red face with hot tears. His arm lands pathetically in his lap, waiting, hanging on your every word.

You throw something at him. The impact as patietic as he feels as the small object bounces off his chest. His eyes darting to the small, burgundy oval, tip filed to a perfect point. A crack runs through a prominent ‘E’ in dark black block font. The letter stars up at him accusingly.

“You.” You point another sharp nail in his direction, his eyes widening in surprise at the new extension. “You, Edward Muson. Are an asshole. And I never want to see your face again.”

As you walked away Eddie slammed his palm over his lips. Wiping angrily at the lingering remnants of pink sparkled lipgloss. The sweet sticky substance clinging to his skin, mocking him as the sparkles engrave themselves into the deep filberts of his jeans. His stomach twisting and throat burns as electric stomach bile rises. He spits violently, doubling over onto his hands and knees and he gags and cries. The content of his stomach landing in front of him in a wet, steaming heap. And Eddie swear he will never taste strawberries again.

Eddie tried to talk to you. If only he could explain. If only he could just see your face again, even if it’s for the last time. To touch your face, to kiss your soft lips. Ones that taste of Vanilla Coke and dark chocolate, a deep lingering of smoke cutting through all your sweetness. He called what feels like a hundred times. Even drove to your house, which he found dark and empty.

No, he needs to see you again. He needs to hear your voice. He needs to explain. To say he’s sorry.

—————————————

So that’s how Eddie ended up in Chief detective Jim Hoppers living room at 6am on a goddam Sunday morning. Pacing the floor in a chaotic and unhinged fashion, long arms flailing around him, har bouncing wild with his movements. He hadn’t slept, too caught up in his plan. His plan to get you back.

Eddie knew that if you didn’t want to interact with someone, they would never know you even existed. Which is why he also knew that words wouldn’t work in you. No, actions speak louder than words.

Jim sits in his armchair, head placed heavily in his hands. Eyes screaming at him for sleep, head pounding as Eddies words bounce around his skull. Reverberating off every bone.

As Eddies words stop, his story coming to an end. He looks at Hopper, arms pressed harsh against his sides as he waits on the older man’s reaction.

“And what exactly do you want me to do about this?” The man grunts, annoyance and fatigue evident in his tone.

For the first time in a long time, Eddies thoughts screeched to a halt. He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t know where you are. And most importantly he doesn’t know why he even came here. Jim hoppers house of all places, to beg the older man to help him.

The feeling claws at him, the scars etched deep in his skin burn. A reminder of the battles he fought in the past. Of the people he saved, the ones he brought back, and the ones he lost along the way.

Eddies wasn’t about to lose you to.

No way.

No. Fucking. Way.

About me:

Hi! Guess who decided to rejoin tumblr after 3 years, that’s right its me. Just a little bit about me; I am fandom obsessed and looking for a place to share my writing and interact with some lovely people!

I will write for pretty much anyone as long as I’m familiar enough with the person/character. I’m going to list my current toy hyper fixations just for you guys to get an idea! I’m all for smut and angst and fluff, all of it! (So long as the person you are requesting is not a minor of course)

Feel free to request to your little hearts explode! Or just come say hi :)

Formula One (Oscar Piastri is my boy, but I love and will write for most of them!)

Stranger things (Eddie Muson in my love) I WONT write about any of the CHILDREN because that’s makes me feel icky 🫶

Marvel (Loki and Matt Murdock have my SOUL)

Supernatural

ready for the spanish gp tomorrow!!

Oh hey Fellow Aussie!!

Just stumbled upon your blog. Your writing is so good and gives all the feels.

Hope you're enjoying FP3 💜💜

AHH OMG THANK YOU!

Both for the amazing comment and for REMINDING ME. I was so caught up writing this overprotective! Oscar I completely forgot, brb while I rewind

😭🥹🫶💕

Masterlist

🪻🤍🪻🤍🪻🤍🪻🤍🪻🤍🪻🤍🪻🤍🪻🤍🪻🤍🪻

A/N: let me know below if you would like to be added to a permanent tags list!

Formula One:

Oscar Piastri (OP81) :

Traitor (Part One)

Traitor (Part Two)

That Night {Smut!}

Qatar Heat

Overprotective/Angry Oscar

Unexpected pet name (Requested by anon!)

🪻🤍🪻🤍🪻🤍🪻🤍🪻🤍🪻🤍🪻🤍🪻🤍🪻🤍🪻🤍🪻🤍

Stranger Things

Eddie Munson:

Broken Nails and Broken Promises

Shackled to you (part two of Broken Nails and Broken Promises)

the only person who had a worse race than ferrari was oscar piastri – and when the leaderboard listed him as 'out', he reversed out of the grass and got back on track. he was not going to DNF at his home race without the stewards physically wrenching a front axle from his hands.

oscar piastri is a goddamn phoenix, and he will rise again and again and again. i love charles, and he is il predestinato - but oscar being a champion is not even predestined. it's literally inevitable.