#I got to play with people and it was so much fun and I ran into familiar players during matches

[justwhisperingfantasies]

Saving People -1-

Request from @deanwinchestersgirl8734

Idk if you can but can you do a dean and 911 crossover fic like dean comes to get the reader like he did Sam but finds the reader is a firefighter and friends with buck

Supernatural/911 crossover count me in!! I had so much fun writing this one. I hope this is what you were looking for 🤍

P.s - I did tag my Dean girls. I understand it's a crossover, so if you don't want to be tagged in this mini series just reach out 🤍

Your eyes shot open as you heard the thud from downstairs. Heart pounding, you strained to listen, every nerve on edge. The silence that followed was almost deafening, but you knew you hadn't imagined the sound. You slowly slipped out of bed, grabbing the silver knife from under your pillow.

You moved through the darkness ready to strike, approaching your roommate’s door you peeked through the crack.

You watched his chest for breathing, the rhythmic rise and fall confirming he was asleep. Reassured, you crept further.

 You descended the staircase, peering into the dimly lit kitchen, finding a figure in front of your fridge.

“Heya Sweetheart.” He said as he turned around.

“Dean?!” You let out a sigh of relief. You walked over to the bar, laying your knife down. “Dumbass! I could have killed you.”

He chuckled. “It’s gonna take a lot more then that little knife to kill me, but it’s nice that you’ve kept it.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Right now, making a sandwich. Are you out of mayo?” He turned back to the fridge. “Never mind found it.”

“Oh, sorry.” Your roommate stood at the bottom of the stairs in his boxers. “I didn’t mean to.”

“It’s fine, Buck, go back to bed.”

He nodded and went back up the stairs.

“Well, he’s cute.” Dean muttered as he continued with his sandwich.

You rolled your eyes. “He’s my roommate.”

“mmhhmm” he smirked, holding a beer out to you.

“No, I have to work in the morning.”

“Well look who sold out.” He teased.

“What do you want, Dean?”

“I need your help.”

“Oh my God. The amazing Dean Winchester needs my help?”  you said dramatically “I need to mark this date in my calendar”

“You done?”

You chuckled. “What’s up?”

“It’s my dad. I haven’t talked to him in a few days.”

“Sounds like classic John Winchester to me.”

“No, it’s different now. He always checks in.” you raised your eyebrows. “He’s changed “

John Winchester was capable of a lot of things, but you wouldn’t put change on that list.

“Please.” Dean pleaded, staring into your eyes, using those damn emeralds against you.

“Give me 5 minutes.” You huffed.

 You walked out the front door of your apartment building, oversized coffee mug filled, Dean had the trunk of the impala open, sorting through some papers.

“Look at you.” You said walking up to the car. Dean’s head turned towards you. “Just as pretty as the first time I seen you.” You ran your hand over the rear fender of the Impala.

Dean laughed. His smile faded as he looked at the emblem on your chest. “Did you shrink your roommate’s hoodie?” he used air quotes on roommate and pointed to the L.A.F.D printed in bold red letters.

You sighed. “Whatcha got Deanie?”

He glared at your smirked face.

He exhaled sharply “So Dad was checking out this thing just outside of Jericho. About a month ago, this guy vanished.” He held up the printed-out report.

“Are we sure he didn’t.”

“There’s another one a month before that, another one in December.” He flipped through the printed reports. “Another, another, anoth…”

“I get the point.”

“10 over the last 20 years. Their cars were found in the exact same spot. Just gone.” Dean collected all the papers and placed them into a folder. “Dad went to check it out about 3 weeks ago, I haven’t heard from him since he got there.” He put the folder in the trunk and picked up a tape recorder. “And I got this a couple days ago.”

You listened as he pushed the play button. It was John’s voice mixed with static and a screeching sound.

“Did you.”

He smiled at you. “of course I did.” He fast forwarded a little bit and hit play again.

“I can never go home.” You repeated. He nodded. “What the hell?”

Dean put everything back in the secret compartment and shut the lid.

“I’m not quite sure.” He sat down on the back of the Impala, Trunk still open. You held out the mug to him. He took a sip. “Come find out with me.”

You sighed.

“Oh, come on y/n. I can’t do this alone.”

You scoffed a laugh. “Yes, you can.”

“You’re right I totally could, but I don’t want to.” He handed your coffee back and stood up. “Picture it. Cruising in the Impala jamming out with your best friend and kicking ass.”

“I can’t just leave. I have a job, a life, a.”

“a roommate.” He cut you off.

You rolled your eyes again.

“Alright. I get it.” He huffed.

“I hope you find him, Dean.”

“Me too.”

“I’m sorry I interrupted last night.” Buck slid to your side and nudged your elbow with his.

“You didn’t.”

“What did Buck interrupt?” Chimney asked as he walked into the firehouse kitchen.

“Nothing.” You told him.

“Y/n had a boy over last night.”

There was a gasp behind you. “A boy?”  Hen asked making her way to the coffee pot.

“It’s nothing. Can we focus on something else please.”

Buck smiled. “of course.”

The three of them looked in different directions for a minute. Then Hen turned to Buck. “What did he look like?”

You huffed

“Good looking guy.”

“Were they?” Chimney waggled his eyebrows.

“No!” you sneered.

“Well, who knows what would have happened if I didn’t walk in.” Buck teased.

“I hate all of you.” You turned to walk away, almost walking right into Captain Nash. “Sorry Cap.”

“What are they up to now?” He asked you

“Torturing me.”

“About what?”

“Nothing.”

“y/n had a boy over last night.” Chimney spoke up.

“A boy?!” Cap’s mouth fell open.

You sighed and walked away.

Dean walked into the firehouse he followed her to this morning.

“Hey, you lookin’ for y/n?”

Dean looked up trying to find the source of the question “Yeah, have you seen her?”

Buck poked his head over the firetruck.

“Oh, you’re the roommate.” Dean acknowledged

Buck chuckled and got to his feet. “That’s me.” He said climbing down the ladder on the side.  He stuck his hand out to Dean once his feet were on the ground. “Evan Buckley, everyone calls me, Buck.”

“Dean Winchester.” He said, shaking Buck’s hand.

“Thee Dean Winchester?”

“Depends. Have you heard good or bad things?”

“Some good, some bad.”

Dean chuckled. “I guess I’ll take that.”

Buck grinned. “Hey Chim!”

“Yeah?” Chimney answered leaning on the railing of the upper level. Dean turned toward him.

“Is y/n up there?” Buck pointed at Dean behind his back mouthing, this is him.

“y/n!!” Chimney yelled. “I don’t think so. Try the gym.”

“You guys have a gym?” Dean asked as he followed Buck.

“Yea, it was actually your girl’s idea.”

Buck opened the door to the gym, “Hey Hen. Have you seen y/n. She has a visitor.”

Her eyebrows raised. “Nope sorry. Try the dorm.

“There she is.” Buck whispered as he led Dean into a room full of beds. She was laying with one arm resting on the forehead, one earbud in, Toes tapping to the music. “It was nice to meet you, Dean.”

“Same.”

You felt the bed dip below his weight as he sat down. You didn’t move or open your eyes.

“What are you doing here, Dean?”

“How’d you know it was me?” he asked.

“You smell like leather and coffee.”

He chuckled. “Whatcha listenin’ to?”

“Music.”

“Smartass.” He chuckled again. “So, a firefighter huh?”

“Yep.”

“Can’t imagine where you came up with that one.”

You opened your eyes to find a big grin on his face.

You shrugged “Some guy.”

He laughed.

“Ya know I could really use your help on this one.” Dean whispered.

“Dean…”

“Come on you can’t get a few days off?”

“What’s wrong?” Bobby stopped as he walked by.

“Dean Winchester, Captain Bobby Nash. Cap This is Dean.”

“Nice to meet Sir.” Dean shook his hand.

“Likewise. So, what’s going on?” Bobby asked.

“It’s my dad Sir.” Dean explained “He went on a hunting trip, and he hasn’t been home in a few days.”

“y/n can I see you in my office?” Babby asked and walked away.

“Damnit Dean. You’re not here 5 minutes and I’m in trouble.”

“Just like old times.” He grinned.

><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><

“I’m sorry, Cap.” You apologized as you walked into his office.

“Sit.” He pointed to the chair facing him. You did as you were told. “You told me the Winchester were the closest thing to family you had before you came here.”

“Yes Sir.”

“So why are you here?”

“I have a job to do Sir.”

“I’ll call in a floater, you go help your family.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, go.”

You turned around before you closed the door. “Thanks Cap.”

“Be careful.”

><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><

You walked back to the dorms, Dean was still sitting on your bed.

"Alright Winchester." You playfully kicked his boot. "One condition."

Dean's face lit up "Anything."

You smirked. "I drive.

@idk6505 @jackles010378 @mqdhvtter @nightxcreature @kamisobsessed

@perpetualabsurdity @barnes70stark @wonderland2022 @quietgirll75 @nancymcl

@hobby27 @madebyhappymeals @hunter-or-the-hunted @deanwinchestersgirl8734 @gardenofeden07

@deansimpalababy @roseblue373 @1313diana @lmg14 @aand13b

@phoenixqueen @spnaquakingdom

[apathyfairy]

last year i found a wii at goodwill for 25 dollars and it came with everything except a wiimote but it was in such good condition i was like hell yeah ill take it how hard can it be to find a wiimote. the answer is it's nearly impossible to find them at thrift stores now so i've spent like 8 months looking for ones in thrift stores but there wasn't a single one and then online but i just couldn't bring myself to spend 30 dollars on one single wiimote so i waited so. patiently. and then 2 weeks ago i finally found one at goodwill for 9 dollars but it was absolutely disgusting and the battery cover was missing and the compartment was all corroded so i put it back and regretted it the whole week but then this last weekend i went to savers and there was an absolutely perfect wiimote just sitting there with no corrosion and a jacket and the wrist strap and motion plus and the nunchuck was there too and i got it all for 10 dollars so the moral of the story is that sometimes things seem right for you in the moment but you have to recognize that they aren't and leave them behind so the things that are meant for you will in fact find you when the time is right. peace and love <3

[wardingshout]

going through a post Grand Fest recovery period... please take me back;;;;,,,,,,,,

[racke7]

Me vs FF14

I've been raising the levels on my DPS-jobs (trying to get them all to fifty), and so I've been using the leveling-queue.

(Ifrit is still fucking bullshit and shouldn't fucking be there)

Had a WHM get completely lost in a dungeon, and had to talk them through how to get to us.

Saw another DPS with some kind of "go tank and pull everything"-chat macro, which... is kind of none of their fucking business as a DPS? The ones deciding on how fast and hard we should go are the tank and healer who are the ones making sure we don't fucking wipe. The fucking disrespect.

A tank actually used their Limit-Break during the final boss-fight. Against a boss that does basically fuck-all damage. Had to take a moment after that dungeon to stare at a wall, because what the fuck.

On a not-actually related note to that last one, I've now mapped the "target-priority"-button to a hotkey, so I can tell people to not bother with targeting the adds when they don't need to.

I've also created a few chat-macros of my own for things like "sound alert telling the tank to set tank-stance" and "basic rules a tank should know" which are as follow:

"Pull until your healer asks you to stop"

"Never stop using your AOE"

"Don't move around unless you have to"

The reasons for the first is that the tank sets the tempo of the dungeon, and some tanks are scared of wiping. Wipes happen. Inattention, greed, random chance.

Your job is to go as fast as you can, and to try and not-die when everything catches up to you, and the one who gets veto on how you do that? Is the healer. So pull as much as you can, and if you wipe or your healer complains? Slow down.

(Everyone else can shut their fucking mouths about it.)

The second one is there because I kept seeing tanks who lost the fucking aggro, despite having tank-stance active. And this is usually because they either don't use their AOE-skill (probably not helped by the novice-tutorial shit telling tanks to "stop using" AOE once a target is "captured" which is bullshit and bad math), or they're not standing in a place where they actually hit the enemies.

But if it's the latter, then they can usually be caught by the tank by just having the targeted sucker run into the tank's AOE-range. Which only works as long as the tank keeps using the AOE.

(The math in this case is: there aren't really a single-target skill that does more than 300~ dmg. Even the shit AOE-skills do 100. So up against three targets? AOE is just more DPS. And you should be up against groups of like... six or more.)

The third and final bit was added specifically for that one tank who thought he was a fucking bard and was running back and forth like an idiot.

There are a few different reasons for it though.

First is that if the tank stands in one place? Everyone else can move so that they don't get hit by things like non-telegraphed cleave-attacks.

Second is that if the tank doesn't move? Then neither does the enemies, so it's a lot easier for the DPS to do their positionals correctly (ie, "hit from behind" etc).

Third is that if reinforcement shows up? The non-tanks can just move to stand behind the tank, forcing the new arrivals to go through the tank first (at which point the tank's AOE would pick them up).

So. Those are my three "tank 101"-macros.

Since I'm suddenly on the subject. Added tank-lesson for anyone wanting to try it is that ranged mobs? They have to attack through line-of-sight. So running behind a corner before you stop will force ranged-mobs into AOE-range.

However, it'll also break your healer's line-of-sight though, so they won't be able to heal you until they can catch up. Be warned.

(An easier option is often to just run past their base-range until they mass, and then run back to them.)

Speaking of fun buttons, I also found out that the "confirm"-button actually lets you select nearby objects. So if you bind it to a convenient button and double-press, you don't have to worry about people blocking your mouse-clicks.

[perilegs]

oh no do i need to get back into poe right this second and speedrun the games

[critterofthenight]

i had such a fun dream, i didn't wanna wake up :c

[inkskinned]

the thing about art is that it was always supposed to be about us, about the human-ness of us, the impossible and beautiful reality that we (for centuries) have stood still, transfixed by music. that we can close our eyes and cry about the same book passage; the events of which aren't real and never happened. theatre in shakespeare's time was as real as it is now; we all laugh at the same cue (pursued by bear), separated hundreds of years apart.

three years ago my housemates were jamming outdoors, just messing around with their instruments, mostly just making noise. our neighbors - shy, cautious, a little sheepish - sat down and started playing. i don't really know how it happened; i was somehow in charge of dancing, barefoot and laughing - but i looked up, and our yard was full of people. kids stacked on the shoulders of parents. old couples holding hands. someone had brought sidewalk chalk; our front walk became a riot of color. someone ran in with a flute and played the most astounding solo i've ever heard in my life, upright and wiggling, skipping as she did so. she only paused because the violin player was kicking his heels up and she was laughing too hard to continue.

two weeks ago my friend and i met in the basement of her apartment complex so she could work out a piece of choreography. we have a language barrier - i'm not as good at ASL as i'd like to be (i'm still learning!) so we communicate mostly through the notes app and this strange secret language of dancers - we have the same movement vocabulary. the two of us cracking jokes at each other, giggling. there were kids in the basement too, who had been playing soccer until we took up the far corner of the room. one by one they made their slow way over like feral cats - they laid down, belly-flat against the floor, just watching. my friend and i were not in tutus - we were in slouchy shirts and leggings and socks. nothing fancy. but when i asked the kids would you like to dance too? they were immediately on their feet and spinning. i love when people dance with abandon, the wild and leggy fervor of childhood. i think it is gorgeous.

their adults showed up eventually, and a few of them said hey, let's not bother the nice ladies. but they weren't bothering us, they were just having fun - so. a few of the adults started dancing awkwardly along, and then most of the adults. someone brought down a better sound system. someone opened a watermelon and started handing out slices. it was 8 PM on a tuesday and nothing about that day was particularly special; we might as well party.

one time i hosted a free "paint along party" and about 20 adults worked quietly while i taught them how to paint nessie. one time i taught community dance classes and so many people showed up we had to move the whole thing outside. we used chairs and coatracks to balance. one time i showed up to a random band playing in a random location, and the whole thing got packed so quickly we had to open every door and window in the place.

i don't think i can tell you how much people want to be making art and engaging with art. they want to, desperately. so many people would be stunning artists, but they are lied to and told from a very young age that art only matters if it is planned, purposeful, beautiful. that if you have an idea, you need to be able to express it perfectly. this is not true. you don't get only 1 chance to communicate. you can spend a lifetime trying to display exactly 1 thing you can never quite language. you can just express the "!!??!!!"-ing-ness of being alive; that is something none of us really have a full grasp on creating. and even when we can't make what we want - god, it feels fucking good to try. and even just enjoying other artists - art inherently rewards the act of participating.

i wasn't raised wealthy. whenever i make a post about art, someone inevitably says something along the lines of well some of us aren't that lucky. i am not lucky; i am dedicated. i have a chronic condition, my hands are constantly in pain. i am not neurotypical, nor was i raised safe. i worked 5-7 jobs while some of these memories happened. i chose art because it mattered to me more than anything on this fucking planet - i would work 80 hours a week just so i could afford to write in 3 of them.

and i am still telling you - if you are called to make art, you are called to the part of you that is human. you do not have to be good at it. you do not have to have enormous amounts of privilege. you can just... give yourself permission. you can just say i'm going to make something now and then - go out and make it. raquel it won't be good though that is okay, i don't make good things every time either. besides. who decides what good even is?

you weren't called to make something because you wanted it to be good, you were called to make something because it is a basic instinct. you were taught to judge its worth and over-value perfection. you are doing something impossible. a god's ability: from nothing springs creation.

a few months ago i found a piece of sidewalk chalk and started drawing. within an hour i had somehow collected a small classroom of young children. their adults often brought their own chalk. i looked up and about fifteen families had joined me from around the block. we drew scrangly unicorns and messed up flowers and one girl asked me to draw charizard. i am not good at drawing. i basically drew an orb with wings. you would have thought i drew her the mona lisa. she dragged her mother over and pointed and said look! look what she drew for me and, in the moment, i admit i flinched (sorry, i don't -). but the mother just grinned at me. he's beautiful. and then she sat down and started drawing.

someone took a picture of it. it was in the local newspaper. the summary underneath said joyful and spontaneous artwork from local artists springs up in public gallery. in the picture, a little girl covered in chalk dust has her head thrown back, delighted. laughing.

[erwinsvow]

you'd never really put this much effort in at other houses. while you're scrubbing the countertops to remove every last bit of evidence that someone—anyone—had made a mess there, you think about the other houses you used to babysit for.

used to, since there was no need to babysit anymore. mister cameron, who will always remain mister cameron—no matter how much he reminds you to call him rafe—actually pays you double what your other families did. he's a busy guy. you know this for a fact—single dad and some big business guy that people in town used to talk about all the time when you used to listen—so he'd have last minute emergencies and random business calls all the time.

his exact words had been something along the lines of "don't wanna share you with anyone else," but even thinking about that encounter makes your face burn with so much intensity that you think you're going to collapse. that's not what he meant, obviously, he was trying to tell you in nicer words that it was annoying when you replied to his texts explaining how another family had booked you already for that night. so when he upped your rate and said that he'd even pay to say no to others, just in case, you would have been really stupid to say no.

you don't hear much about him anymore, when you're out and about. you spend so much time at the cameron house that your own little apartment seems like nothing more than a bed and a place to get ready before leaving. you practically eat three meals a day with the baby, so even your grocery shopping is in that part of town—all organic, expensive places where you talk to the baby and try to get her opinion on which vegetable puree she'd like to try this week.

it's kind of like playing pretend. no, it's really like playing pretend. you used to dress in the normal, comfortable clothes that were sufficient for babysitting every other family—overalls and sneakers—but now you don't fit in unless you're in a pretty dress and nice sandals. you stay in one outfit from when you show up before mister cameron leaves to when you drive home at the end of the night.

that's the other thing—your car. you've made it work with the same one since you could first drive. it's a little rusty, a little dinged up, but safe as can be. it's nothing fancy but it got you around. but now you do other things for rafe that you never did for other families—grocery shopping and errands and the occasional doctor's appointment if rafe really, really can't make it. you don't mind at all—it's fun to play pretend and you love her like she's your own, but mister cameron tries to make it to every appointment himself, because he really cares about his daughter. it's admirable because you don't see it in every single household.

you hadn't thought there was anything wrong with your car until one day you couldn't get the air conditioning to work, and the back window got jammed and the baby looked so uncomfortable that you had to skip out on whatever you were supposed to do that day. when mister cameron came home that night you apologized so much that you started crying—because really, you never thought there was something wrong with your car and you didn't want to make the baby drive in the heat, just in case. you think he'll be mad, there's no groceries and his suit is still at the cleaner's, and the lotion that you use every night after bathtime has ran out and there'll be none for tomorrow—but he's not.

he's not mad at all. he seems... tired. he seems worried. the first thing he asks that night is if you and the baby are okay. when you nod, afraid that this is the calm before the storm, he sighs.

"good. that's all i care about," and the way he says it—you believe him right away. maybe that's the night your little crush on mister cameron started forming. it'd always been there in the background, you'd be an idiot of massive proportions to deny it. but it felt different somehow, watching him roll up his sleeves and pulling out whatever ingredients there were left over to make dinner with, something that you normally tried to have done every night for him, while telling you to take a seat.

that night he asks about your car—how old is it, when'd you get it, how many miles. do you like the model? would you want bigger, smaller, a different color? it's just conversation—he probably likes cars with the way there's a really nice in the garage under a sheet and a nice but safer one that he takes to work everyday.

(while he's cooking pasta and cutting vegetables, you try to get up and help, but he meets your eyes and shakes his head. wordlessly, you obey and sit back down.)

that's the first night things felt different. you drove home a little giddy, later than normal, stomach full and heart a little too happy that you found it in yourself to finally have a real, nice conversation with mister cameron. you're as shy as they come but your interactions with him are limited—before work, a phone call at lunch (though recently, his first question hasn't been about the baby... it's been how are my girls?), and after work before you leave.

it feels good to know that you're doing something right, that you're good at this even on your bad days. you make a point to leave your place extra early that week, stopping at the pharmacy and picking up the lotion so it's one less thing to worry about. your window still won't roll down and you'll have to figure out how to get the groceries delivered, crossing your fingers that it doesn't cost that much more.

you show up a couple minutes early and go inside to sort out the stuff for the baby before she wakes, when you find mister cameron in the nursery.

"good morning," you say quietly, though it comes out a little above a whisper. she's still sleeping, even though you haven't glanced in the crib, you know her schedule like the back of your hand.

"hey, kid," he says, and your heart starts to thud a little faster. mister cameron's nicknames for you don't make an appearance everyday but for some reason, it has today. he hovers over the crib, watching the baby's chest rise and fall with each breath. you go over to join him, placing the lotion on the dresser. he notices the bottle and turns back to you. "you didn't have to do that."

"she needs it," you reply quietly. "it's the only one she likes. and i was up early anyways."

"thank you." it comes out with such sincerity that you're a little taken aback.

"of course, mister cameron. it's nothing," you smile up at him. he glances back at you, smiling and then turning to his daughter again. "i'm gonna go start on her breakfast."

you make your way to the door when he says your name.

"there's keys on the kitchen counter, and the car's in the garage. i'd like it if you started using that car instead."

and really—how are you supposed to respond to that? you stammer out an 'of course, mister cameron' and go downstairs, crossing your fingers that he made a mistake, or that he wants you to drive his car until you fix yours and he'll take the nice one tucked away in the garage.

but when you make it to the counter, and then head to the garage, your eyes nearly fall out of your head. a brand new pair of car keys, to match the brand new car in the garage. your arguments fall on deaf ears—this is way too much for anyone. yes, you're pretty much throwing money away by still paying rent and the cost of getting your car fixed could probably be enough to start paying for a better one, but this is too much. way too much. it's not normal. right?

but you have no one to ask. the baby's not old enough for playdates, and the girls who replaced you at your old houses are pretty much all high school seniors. on mister cameron's side of town, there's only nannies and au pairs, and they'd probably think you're crazy for turning down such a nice gesture.

and it is a nice gesture. mister cameron listens to every word you say, even when you're not paying attention to your own sentence. the car is exactly how you described—the color you wanted, the size you said would be nice one day incase there's ever a playdate or another baby or whatever the case may be. it's shiny and brand-new and completely undeserving of you. but he doesn't listen.

somewhere along the next month, you realize you could get really used to this. mister cameron does have a point—you're taking care of his daughter every day, so it only makes sense to make sure she's as safe as can be. you make a mental note that if you ever—for whatever idiotic reason—choose to leave this perfect job, you'll make sure he gets the car back.

there comes a point where the relationship... makes its way to the next level. at the end of every week, you have to settle the bills. co-pays at appointments, grocery receipts, the invoice from the gardener that didn't go through so you had given him your own cash so mister cameron wouldn't have to deal with it from work. it adds up, so once the baby is asleep on saturday night, the two of you eat dinner and go through everything.

but this time, he hands you a card instead. a shiny black credit card that spells out his name on the back.

"makes it a bit easier, right? just use this instead. we won't have to settle every week anymore."

"right," you agree, your smile fading quickly. you try to put on a front, a false expression so he doesn't notice your disappointment. saturday nights with mister cameron—him with his beer and you with a glass of wine—once the baby is asleep, sorting out bills and making conversation that almost felt like you belonged here, had unknowingly become your favorite part of the week. sometimes it would go until midnight, talking about things that were neither here nor there.

it's how you learned why he's a single dad, what he does for work, how he feels about his job and how much time it takes away from his daughter. it's why you started sending him photo and video updates everyday so he wouldn't feel like he's missing out on as much, it's why you make sure to craft the baby's bedtime routine around him coming home, so they have their time together.

"somethin' wrong?" he asks, after taking another sip of beer. you're snapped out of your thoughts, focusing instead of how rafe looks today. tie loosened, sleeves rolled up, fingers curled around the beer bottle.

you don't know how any woman on earth could have walked away from this.

"n-nothing. no. thank you, mister cameron, this is great. i'll make sure-"

"it's rafe from now on—remember, kid?"

"yes. sorry, i-"

you couldn't get out of there fast enough that night. it's almost a subtle reminder from the universe—you're not part of that family. you're the nanny who got too attached, who pretended that she fit in too much to a family that's not hers.

you still wear your nicer clothes, you still drive around his nice car. but you try to remind yourself every now and then that this isn't your real life.

the next day, it's like the universe has decided that it's mad at you for coming to this conclusion.

pouring rain the second you get into the car. your raincoat and umbrella and a sensible pair of shoes remain inside your apartment, and if you sit in idle any longer, you're going to be late to mister cameron's. he'll want to leave early since it's raining, so he's probably expecting you any minute.

the roads are a mess—it's monsooning for no reason and people forget how to drive. you honk no less than three times at idiots on the road before getting scared that someone will road-rage you. when you pull into the garage—because yes, mister cameron insists that you park inside and that he can park outside— you're frazzled and sweating and your day hasn't even started yet.

rafe's almost ready to leave, which is another damper on an already bad morning—if he has time, the two of you eat breakfast together. you tell him to drive safe and apologize for being late when he rushes past you, leaning in to kiss your cheek and telling you that he might he home late today, and to have a good day. you don't realize what's happened until he's gone, the door closing behind him.

you stand in the foyer with your mouth open until you hear the baby monitor. from that point on—it's one thing after another. the baby is fussy today, which is the most unusual part of the day. she's never like this, and you conclude that she must be getting sick or something. it's just as well, because there's no reason to go out or to take her out in this weather. she cries, and you try to help, even cave and put on some episodes of little bear to see if something would distract her. but the poor thing just doesn't feel good, and has no way to tell you how.

the hours fly by, and your head even hurts a little from the crying and the overthinking about the kiss from this morning. in all the rush, you eat about two bites of lunch before the baby needs something else.

and then at the end of the day, right around when rafe should be coming home, he doesn't.

you feed the baby and rock her to sleep. she fusses ten minutes later, and spits up all over you and your hair, and then knocks out. you even spend twenty minutes hovering over the monitor, making sure she's okay while drying your hair. rafe's still not home, so you get dinner ready and warmed for him, eating yours alone in the silence. and as if you could handle another thing, you spill sauce all over your dress while trying to put away the leftovers.

you were going to wait until you were back home, safe in your tiny apartment to cry and shower and scrub your skin raw from the day you've had, but it can't wait any longer. you take the monitor into the bathroom with you at full volume, and decide to shower in the bathroom closest to the baby's room just to be safe.

it's not until you're naked, wrapped in a soft towel and waiting for the water to get scalding hot, racking your brain for the location of the extra clothes you had once brought here that you realize the shower closest to the baby's room is the shower in rafe's bedroom.

you haven't been in here before—looking around at the expensive cologne on the counter and the dark blue towels and the hamper full of yesterday's dress shirt. it's not a good idea to be in here, but you need to shower and you can't wait another minute. for all you know, mister cameron could come home in another two hours. your dress is spinning in the washer—and your plan is set. throw it in the dryer, find something to wear for the next fifty minutes, and leave as soon as he's home even though you can hear the raindrops on the roof and the thunder outside.

the shower is what you have been needing all day. you wish you had your body wash and shampoo, but his aren't too bad. you inhale deeply, realizing you're submerging yourself in his scent. you could stay in there forever, but you don't—he's gonna be home any minute or the baby could start crying, and you need to go home.

but he smells so good. you've noticed it before, it just feels amplified now. the towel you wrap yourself in is his, meaning he's dried himself with it before. all the clothes smell like his cologne, and the house is a little cold and your clothes are still washing, and though it's probably the worst idea you've ever had, when you get out of the shower, you head to his dresser and pull out the first clean t-shirt you can find.

it's big on you, you knew it would be. it's soft and warm and smells undeniably like mister cameron. you're completely clueless, exhausted because the baby barely napped and you barely got any sleep yourself, and it's way past your own bedtime right now. he might not even come home, you think, with how the storm sounds. you check your phone but there's no messages, just a flood warning.

yesterday's socks and underwear are still spinning in the machine—how long does this thing take? what setting had you put it on?—and you begrudgingly leave rafe's warm bedroom with the baby monitor in one hand, and his navy blue towel in the other, drying your hair. you turn on the television, watching whatever's on while you pat your strands dry, bending over to wrap your hair into the towel so you can sit for a couple minutes, when you hear the door open.

you snap back up, looking at rafe's face stare back at you—he's drenched, hair wet and suit dripping, wiping his forehead with his hand when he looks you up and down. oh god, you don't even know what he just saw, you were bent over and-

"is that my shirt?"

[chrissv4mp]

𐙚 ᯓ stupid crush — ᡣ𐭩

she didn't understand why she felt like this, why she felt so... warm. especially when you were around. any time you even came within a 5 feet radius of her, she'd feel like she was going to explode. her cheeks would heat up, and she wouldn't know how to act, what to say—she didn't even know how to breathe when you were around her. which reminded her... you were lying right on her chest, and that only made the struggle to breathe worse. she hopes you didn't notice, but with the way your hand ran across her stomach so often, she was sure you might've caught on earlier than she expected. billie had been the one to invite you over after you got off your shift, and you happily accepted her invitation because she was never really the one to ask.

so, here you were, your bodies laying on her bed as a song from your shared playlist plays at a low volume from the speaker on her nightstand. the rain from outside hit her window, the quiet pitter-patter noises making the whole scene complete. it was something straight out of some classic friends-to-lovers film. her bedside lamp was on, lighting the room up just enough so that you could see her face and she could see yours. she was counting each of the little freckles on your face as you shut your eyes, relaxing into her. she ran a hand through your hair, her fingers scratching your scalp so softly, so carefully as she lulled you even further into a sleepy state of mind. she was praying you didn't hear the fast beating of her heart as she held you, not moving too much because she was scared that she'd do something wrong and you'd leave.

she grabbed her phone from her pocket, careful not to make too much noise as she unlocked her phone and went into her voice notes. she was sure you were asleep by now, your gentle breathing and quiet demeanor, a crystal clear sign. but, as she played the most recent one, titled 'stupid crush,' she regretted not making sure that you were actually asleep. her voice erupted from the speaker on her nightstand, and the first words that were heard were, "this is fucking stupid. i... love y/n. there was that—?" until billie finally came to her senses and paused it, the music resuming almost immediately. if her heart wasn't racing, it sure as hell was now. you stirred in your... sleep?—daze?—she didn't know, but now you were looking directly into her eyes with the... softest expression on your face. your eyes spoke for you, but billie was sure she was misreading the smile that began to creep onto your face. you were going to laugh. make fun of her—

"what's so 'fucking stupid' about that?" you giggle softly, voice slightly raspy and eyes glossed over with multiple emotions. all of which were for billie to decipher because she knew damn well she wasn't gonna get any answers from between your pretty pink lips until she finally admitted her feelings. but she didn't know what to say, and not even the music playing softly in the background calmed her anymore. she shut off her phone, tossing it to the empty side of the bed as she gulped quietly, "tell me, i'm quite interested." you sat up, sitting on her lap as you always did because you could never not be at least somewhat in her personal space. maybe that's part of what helped develop her crush on you. her stupid crush. on you. her best friend, of all people. she cleared her throat of the suffocating feeling as she sat up straighter, body tensing as she hopelessly murmured, "because you're my best friend. we're—y/n, we can't be—"

"who says we can't be together?" you scoff, a half-amused, half-annoyed look on your face. when she blinked, it was like you were a million miles closer to her, your lips inches apart, breath fanning over her face. she gulped again, eyes scurrying over to the empty side of the bed, biting on her lip nervously as she tried to think about what to say. it wasn't like she didn't want you to be her girlfriend, she was just... scared of messing it all up. when you cupped her cheek and turned her head back towards you, her eyes widened, "gimme one reason." you whisper, eyes darting down to her plump lips as you scoot closer to her body, shorts riding up your thighs. she doesn't respond, feeling frozen in the same song that just ended began to play again through the speaker, "billie," you murmur, lips only inches away from hers, almost brushing against each other as your hand travels down and wraps around the back of her neck, pulling her in closer. when your other hand comes up to her shoulder, she only then decides to speak, "because it'll be ten times harder to let you go."

"then you better hold me tight so that won't happen." you whisper before your lips crash softly against hers, pulling her closer by her neck. she doesn't pull away, your words slowly processing in her head as her own hands cautiously grab a hold of your waist, almost pulling you onto her lower abdomen in an attempt to get you closer. she wanted you two to be whole, even after all the doubt she spat out before. your words sunk deep into her heart, and now she didn't have a worry in the world. as long as you were with her, everything would be fine. she'd just have to hold you. close. tight. secure. as long as possible... and maybe even forever. she smirks against your mouth as she feels your tongue run across her lower lip, pulling away only a few inches as she opens her eyes, staring deeply into yours and never looking away, "so... i guess i should rename the voice note 'stupid girlfriend,' now?" she giggles as you roll your eyes, pushing her shoulder softly, "i think you're the stupid one."

𐙚 amiyaps : guys the landing of my flight scared the absolute SHIT out of me... cus tell me why we were dropping so fast bro 🙁

𐙚 tags : @mseilishmwah @sophloveswomen @mxqdii @livialifesblog @devynscomet @her-favorite @cannibalsclass @wiidfi0wer33 @loving1dsworld @tan1shere @fallingforfalll2 @cierraonline @dandelions4us @scarlittt @ifwdominicfike @slxtarchive @meliciousmel13 @zayluvss @hrtsdollie

[tender-rosiey]

hii, hope im not bothering uu!!

my brain is obsessed with ur daddy gojo ficsss!! 🤭🤭 just a thought though. what if gojo brought his kid to work since reader couldnt hire a babysitter and had work to do!! 😱😱 kid can be a baby or like, 7-10?? or something? (idrc i jus need to feed my head with more dad gojo fics 😔😔, kid can be a girl or boy!!) hopee u have a nice dayyy!! ❤❤

missing – gojo satoru x f!reader

a/n: I wrote the kid being around 5 or 6 max, I think?? hope you like this as well! <3

you are standing at the door, checking over everything with your husband, "satoru, you got the toys?"

like the proud and confident dad he is, he replies with ease, "yep."

"the snacks?"

“of course,” he grins, pulling up the bag of snacks and toys to show you.

but you’re still stressing, "what about—“

"wifey, relax!” he starts rubbing your shoulders soothingly; “I got everything she needs. you have nothing to worry about,” he presses a loud kiss to your cheek.

"last time you said that, you teleported with d/n to the maldives."

he laughs loudly, before pulling you into a big hug, "aww, babe; I said I am sorry,” he is swaying the both of you, “you know I wanted you to be with us."

"that's not the point!"

"oh wowie, look at the time!” he looks at his fake watch and starts gently pushing you towards the car, “you’re gonna be late sweetheart."

"oh god!" you gasp, quickly giving satoru his goodbye kiss, and running to your daughter to give her own goodbye peck on the cheek as well, “I will miss you; take care of dada, okay?”

“aren’t I the one who is supposed to do that taking care part?!”

“bye ‘toru; bye d/n! love you!”

“love you too!” they both reply in unison before looking each other in the eye. satoru grins at her, “do you want to see uncle nanami?”

“nanamin!” she squeals then runs to god knows where.

soon, they finally get to jujutsu tech.

it took longer than usual because the little missy ran off and decided to play hide and seek. in addition to that, since the madlives incident, you banned satoru from teleporting with d/n because it gets her really dizzy and she starts puking.

so like the common people, he takes a car and has to wait till they arrive there. he wants to grumble, but, at least, his princess is there to play with him and make conversations.

they are finally in class when nobara coos, crouching down in front of d/n, “oh, you’re so cute!”

the little girl grins, “thank you!”

“also, I love your dress!”

“oh; thank you!” d/n gasps and starts twirling around, “mommy picked it for me! It’s so pretty, right?” nobara nods eagerly at her and it makes d/n giggle.

d/n pauses for a moment, a pout on her face and eyes get teary, and looks at satoru, “mommy…”

satoru pats her head, “we will see her soon; don’t worry.”

“wow; I am surprised you’re acting like a proper dad,” megumi comments, waving at d/n who grins back at him.

swiftly, yuuji defends his teacher’s pride, “hey! sensei is a great dad!”

d/n starts swinging her arms around and running in place like she is preparing for something. soon. it is revealed what she is waiting for. the door opens and she launches herself at the new guest, “nanamin!”

nanami effortlessly catches her and secures his hold on her, “d/n, that was dangerous; what if you got hurt?”

she looks down with yet another pout, “I know…’am sorry. just missed you.”

nanami sighs before patting her head, “it’s alright,” a tiny smile creeps up, “are you having fun so far?”

she nods happily and starts rambling about how cool nobara is or how much fun yuuji is to be around. meanwhile, satoru is standing in a corner with his arms crossed and grumbling, “that’s my daughter, you know.”

“imagine losing your daughter’s affection to someone else,” megumi pops up from behind satoru.

he retorts with no hesitation, “imagine not having a father.”

satoru looks petrified at megumi who is so very offended. satoru starts mini-panicking, “wait—megumi, I was kidding!”

“divine dogs.”

satoru shrieks and d/n squeals, pointing at him, “minmin, daddy’s playing with ‘gumi’s dogs!”

nanami averts his attention to gojo playing (read: being attacked). he nods slowly at the suffering man, “he is having so much fun; isn’t he?”

 “yay!” she throws her arms in the air.

nobara snaps a picture of d/n, “she’s adorable!”

yuuji sobs beside her, “I know right?!”

that was at the beginning of the day, but, right now, satoru has to attend a meeting for some reason with the higher-ups, including yaga. though, it hardly counts as a proper one considering that satoru laid out d/n toys so she can play with him.

“daddy, you’re not supposed to give him the green shirt; he needs the blue one.”

satoru quickly obeys, “yes ma’am,” and he changes the doll into his fabulous blue outfit. d/n giggles and holds his face to kiss his cheek.

one of the higher-ups clears his throat, “refrain from such disrespectful behavior during the meeting, gojo.”

satoru smiles humorlessly at the elder, “last time I checked, my daughter’s happiness is a lot more important than the nonsense you spout every single time.”

d/n carefully makes her way down the table and pulls on satoru’s pants, “daddy, toilet, please.”

“this was a fun meeting!” he beams, collecting d/n’s toys in her bag, “I have more urgent matters to attend to so adieu!” he mock bows, before bending to pick his daughter up, “let’s go princess.”

the door closes after satoru and d/n leave, and everyone looks at yaga. he takes a deep breath, “listen, that's his daughter. asking him not to pamper her is like asking a cat to let go of her kittens. you will get bit.”

time passes and satoru is chilling with d/n in the common room. she is laying on his lap and curled around herself. she groggily looks up to him, “when are we going to see mommy?”

he starts stroking her hair, “soon; I promise,” he takes out a candid picture he took of you and hands it to her, “how about you take this until we go back home and see mommy?”

she nods slowly and hugs the photo close. satoru smiles softly and presses a kiss to her forehead. not much after, d/n falls asleep with your photo secure in her hold.

it makes satoru chuckle. it reminds him of how he can never sleep without you either.

that’s why when he goes on mission, he scrolls endlessly through your photos until sleep takes over him or he listens to any voice message you sent. it helps him with the dilemma of missing you, and he is glad it helps his daughter the same way.

taglist: @magenta-cat-drawingss @pompompurin1028 @scul-pted @requiem626k @nameless-shrimp @sonder-paradise @jessbeinme15s-notebook @todorokichills @ginneko @missrown @shrynkk @simplyxsinned @beautiful-is-boring @starlostlaiba @izukus-gf @irethepotato @thekaylahub @dazaisbloodybandages @aeanya @sweetcloudsimp @moon-catto @the-midnightskies@pianopuppygirl @gojosblackqueen @kryscent @kunikida-simp @whoami-72 @mx-0-child @fiona782 @kisakitwister @imjustasimpxd @psychopotatomeme @dreamcastgirl99 @watyousayin @doobiebochana @laylasbunbunny @hojicha-expresso @4sat0ruu @nineooooo @chuuyasboots @alekssashka7 @rieejjyubi02 @satoryaa @nothisispatrick300 @fallencrescentmoon @etheviese @ho34gojo @the-mom-friend-dot-com @the-weeping-author @stray-npc @libbyistired @anon1412 @anakalana @maehemthemisfit @satorustar @b4nka1

copyright © tender-rosiey

do not copy or plagiarize or you will be reported

[lgbtlunaverse]

This page from the adventurer's bible makes me want to cry

Like basically any neurodivergent dungeon meshi fan, I see a lot of myself in the Touden siblings. But I was blindsided by just how much I suddenly related to Falin in this little comic from the adventure bible's complete version.

It's about the Touden siblings' differing relationships with their parents, and why Laios still holds their treatment of Falin against them, while Falin herself doesn't.

We know that Falin was isolated and ostraziced by their village after she saved Laios from a ghost, displaying her uncanny affinity for magic. Her parents, instead of defending her, sent her away, which angered Laios so much he ran way himself before Falin even left for magic school, hoping to make a living so he and Falin could live together alone.

He tells Marcile this, but when she goes to Falin, she says she sees things differently. Her father sent her to magic school to protect her form the rest of the village without having to cause a conflict. He didn't explain that, and we actually see her burst into tears when he says it.

But, well... Laios was gone for a year before Falin went to magic school, and everyone else in the village avoided her. The understanding Falin has with her parents to me looks like one borne out of necessity, she literally didn't have anyone else to talk to.

And this is where we get to the page that made me want to cry

Like I said, I relate to the Toudens because I'm neurodivergent myself. that feeling of suddenly realizing you're disliked, but not knowing what you did wrong or what you should have done instead? Yeah... that's one I recognize.

When I was around 9 years old, the same age Falin is in this comic, a bunch of kids in my class decided to make a "game" where you lost if you touched me. It was basically the 'cheese-touch' from diary of a wimpy kid, except I always had it and couldn't pass it along. They'd pretend I was poisonous or disgusting and run away from me screaming or gagging. The point was to make fun of me. But my autistic little 9 year old ass thought "Oh I get it! It's tag but I'm always it!" So I... played along. Running at a boy and having him fall on the ground screaming in fake pain because you tapped him is, in isolation, pretty funny.

It wasn't until months into the "game" that I realized it was meant to be meanspirited. That the reason I was the one who was always 'it' wasn't an arbritrary rule but the whole point. Because I was weird and gross. I wasn't in on the joke, I was the punchline.

Falin may have come to understand her parents' intentions, but she didn't always. The adventure bible actually tells us that she at first didn't even notice that the rest of their village disliked her. She clearly knows now, but she had to be told. So when her mom tried to exorcise her, she just saw it as an activity she got to do with a mother she usually didn't get to spend much time with because of her poor health. It's only Laios who notices something is wrong.

(Sidenote, Laios being hyper-aware of people's poor attitudes towards Falin but completely blindsided when he's in the same spot, like with Toshiro, is also very relatable as an eldest sibling)

It probably also took Falin months, until after her brother had left and she had no one but her parents, to realize why her mother had been doing all those things.

And I know they're not the same. Even misguidedly, Falin's mom was trying to help her, not make fun of her like those boys in my class. (Though, as a queer person who also cares a lot about the queercoding in Falin's storyline, a parent trying to 'exorcise' their child of a fundamental part of them the parent thinks is evil or corruptive? yeah... that's not perfectly wholesome)

But do you know what I did, when I finally figured out the game was always meant to make fun of me?

To me, it looked like I had a choice.

See, those boys eventually figured out I didn't understand that they were being mean to me. I'd laugh every time I managed to catch one of them, I was visibly having fun. And while it no doubt only made me more of a weirdo in their eyes, they never informed me that I shouldn't be enjoying myself. That the point was for me to feel hurt.

So now that I did know, I had a choice. I could either get upset, and let the insult land as it was supposed to. That wouldn't stop them, because making fun of me was the original goal. Or I could ignore it and go on as usual. They had already accepted that I didn't get it, and they weren't gona stop me from having fun, so why should I?

And the thing is that I had... one friend, in that whole class. One person who actually liked talking to me and hanging out with me. I was lonely. And the 'game' provided me with another social interaction, mean-spirited as it was, that I desperately needed. And it was so delightfully simple. Navigating actual friendships as a kid with autism and adhd was so fucking complicated, and I'd never know when I might break an inivisble rule. But I knew the rules to the game perfectly!

Sometimes, if I was chasing one of them, the others would trap him and hold him down so I could tap him. In those moments it actually did kind of feel like I was playing with them, rather than against them. And it didn't change much, they didnt start actually liking me. But they were willing to roll with the fact that I wasn't upset, and I took advantage of that because I needed to.

So you can look at Falin seeing the best in her parents as her being naïve, but I look at this page and I see myself, at first unable to differentiate between playing and being made fun of. And then later, when I did see the difference, deciding not to get mad about it because that'd mean losing that social interaction, and I couldn't afford to.

Like I said, Falin probably first realized this in the year she spent with her brother gone, and everyone else avoiding her like the plague. If she refused to talk to her parents, like Laios did, she'd have no one left.

I see a lot of people relating to the fight between Laios and Toshiro. that frustration when you realize someone you thougth was your friend actually hates you, and they never said anything, never gave you a chance to fix it because you had no idea that you were even doing something wrong! And I can see that, too. But sometimes, when people don't fully hate you, it feels better to go along with the pretending. Because adressing it won't fix it. Because the problem isn't a specific behaviour, it's you. And if they're willing to tolerate you, despite the fact that it's you, then you'll take it. Because other people do hate you, so this is the best you'll get.

[lewisvinga]

chemtrails over the country club | max verstappen x fem! reader

summary; nobody’s son and nobody’s daughter finally find peace with each other after the toughness of their childhood.

warnings; mentions of abusive parents, drinking, yelling

note; i play this song 10x a day tbh

word count; 953

taglist; @namgification

‘born to die’ series masterlist

f1 masterlist !

It was no secret that Max Verstappen didn’t have a normal childhood.

On top of spending his childhood karting, his father was tough. He often never let young Max have fun or play football on Sundays, young Max had to spend all his time racing no matter the conditions.

He was a ticking time bomb. If he didn’t win a race, people made sure to steer clear of him. He had a short temper.

13 year old Max felt his heart stop for a second as he realized he finished 4th. Not even on the podium. He could already see the angry face of his father and his loud voice as he made its way out of the kart.

His fathers voice sounded like a snake hissing. It intimidated young Max. His father kept a tight grip on his shoulder that he was sure would bruise. He glances up at his father for him to say something, anything.

But all 13 year old Max received was a few words that broke his heart. “You’re not my son. You’re not a Verstappen with that 4th.”

It was no secret that Max earned the nickname ‘Mad Max’ as a result from his childhood. With the way his face turns red and the curses slips from his mouth, nobody wanted to be around when he’s angry.

So it was a shocker when people found out who he was dating. A walking ball of sunshine dressed in pink bows and white lace, y/n was the only one to tame ‘Mad Max’. With her, Max didn’t seem to have to worry about disappointing her. She was always proud of him and she made sure he knew.

However, Y/n wasn’t always the ball of sunshine. Just like Max, she grew up with a toxic parent but it was her mother.

Being the oldest of 3, it meant it was up to her to take care of her siblings meanwhile her mother disappeared on Fridays just to come back black out drunk on Sunday nights. Having her childhood stripped from her made her into the bubbly person she was. Yet, her mother was still strict with her during her studies. Anything else but an A+ meant failure.

Y/n felt herself shake from fear as she walked down the sidewalk after stepping off the bus. In her backpack was a history exam with the letter B written in red. Her younger brother and sister ran in front of her with wide smiles while retelling their day in school.

Y/n’s eyes widened as she saw her mother standing at the front door. She knew that she had to give her the exam. Her siblings ran inside to their rooms to play with their toys while she stayed by the front door. With shaking hands, she pulls out the exam for her mother.

She could already smell the alcohol from her mother's mouth as she let out a deep sigh. “You’re not my daughter. My daughter wouldn’t cause me such disappointment.”

Their bond of having a tough childhood was what brought them together. They often spent nights sharing stories and relating to each other's experiences. With Max, she was able to let loose and enjoy herself.

There were moments when their past still affected them, much like during a snow day.

Y/n and Max were wearing big coats, tough boots, warm gloves, and everything else needed for a snow day. They sat on the steps of the front porch of the local country club they were a part of, watching the kids of other members laugh and play, something neither got to do.

“Max, let’s go take a walk around.” She suggested since it was the closest to being able to play in the snow in her mind.

The Dutch happily agreed and started ranting her about something as they made their way down the driveway. Y/n kept focusing on him and the crunch of the snow beneath her black boots. A small smile crept up her lips as she noticed her boyfriend was still distracted. She pauses for a second and he continues to walk and rant.

“And then, I said-“ Max pauses, noticing the lack of Y/n presence. “Liefje?” He questions and turns around to face her. Suddenly, his cheek was met with something cold.

Y/n lets out a gasp. “That was supposed to hit your back!” She exclaims with wide eyes and a frown. “I’m sorry! I meant to hit your back then you-“ She was so distracted with rambling, that she didn’t notice him pack some snow into a ball.

Mid-ramble, she felt the ball hit her scarf-covered neck. Her previous frown quickly turned into a smile. Immediately both of them started to create snowballs and throw them at each other.

She suddenly sees him charging towards her. She lets out a squeal as she runs away. She ran around the snowy fields, not caring if the other adults were staring at them due to their childish behavior.

Suddenly, Max jumps in front of her and causes both of them to fall to the ground. She pushes him off of herself and he rolls to the side. They were both lying on their backs, taking deep breaths between laughter.

“Max, look,” Y/n says, pointing at a white line in the sky that was led by a small dot. It was a chemtrail, signifying that there was a plane. “Surprised people are traveling now.”

“Yeah, that’s ’cause it’s now snowing anymore.” He explains, keeping his eye on the white line.

They fell into a comfortable silence as they lay in the pillowy white snow. They were once nobody’s son and nobody’s daughter. But now, Max and Y/n found the comfort they wanted in their lives as they lay in the snow, watching the chemtrails over the country club.

[galactic-rhea]

you know, maybe I'm wrong, but my interpretation of Anakin/Vader and Redeemed Anakin is that he pretty much is aware he's terrible. He pretty much thinks of himself as a monster even before becoming Vader, he considers himself one as soon as he had to leave Shmi to survive as a slave alone while he got to become The Chosen One and travel the stars (his basic understanding of love is self-sacrifice), he knows the tusken massacre was bad, he knows murdering disarmed Dooku was bad; he knew turning against the jedi and helping Palpatine was bad; he's extremelly self aware of his violence and hates himself for it.

I think it's easy to think of him as nonchalant or as sort of a shameless dick about it all because his General At War Persona was to be jokey and pretend he's having fun. He's very confident on his ability for Murder (tm), he (tragically) became one of the Best general jedis in the order by becoming good at murder, he's useful when he's being murderous at the right people; so he has no doubts on his abilities on this regard; that doesn't mean he isn't aware of how fucked up and cruel it is, but he keeps doing it, and it's all he knows; he was born in violence, raised in violence, taught to yield a extremelly dangerous weapon, groomed into violence, rewarded for violence, cheered for violence, with Ahsoka then he had to teach violence, and then violence just became something that ran in his blood, it came to him easily, too easily because he was never given the means to deal with such a extreme hyperviolent paradigm. So yep, he knows he's good at murder and little self-preservation.

And he probably despised himself for it, he saw himself as less than a being with human rights, he saw himself as a weapon and he hated not being seen as a person, and at some point he became apathic about it, the fight left him as soon as he had no future with a family. As Vader his hate and anger is just cold fury, is mostly apathy and a void of emotions, there's just pain and self-disgust and regret and old anger, there's not even trying to be something else anymore, it's all he's ever been good at and all he's being asked to do.

So redeemed Anakin (which canonically just means Ghost Anakin lmao) acting oblivious or playing the dumb or victim card it's just something I can't even imagine him to do; like Anakin is aware of being violent and messed up and Bad, but he is completely unable to concieve the idea of having been a victim because besides violence, Anakin's other big trait is that he never ever processes trauma and he horrifically has a history of blaming himself instead of the people who owned him.

This guy, when he was at his best as a Jedi, was pathologically prone to suicidal missions even when it wasn't a necessity, he thinks he's an asset, a means for his superiors to impose their stance and chose to own it, instead of blaming his superiors he just hates himself because he can't stop pathetically reliving when he left his mom behind, when he carried her corpse, when he retaliated against even innocents including kids, when he hurt Padmé, all the times he failed, and the he lived in his personal, fitly created just for him, inferno and had no plans to escape it until one certain sunshine farmer showed up, and all because he thinks he deserves the torture and the abuse and being owned because he's just good at murder and nothing else.

So yeah, no one probably hates him more than himself. Someone could tell Ghost Anakin he's a monster, the worst thing that ever happened in the galaxy and he would say "Yes." And no attempts at arguing or whatsoever, his dignity couldn't be lower if he tried, he would half-heartly agree if someone like Luke said the emperor did him wrong by, y'know, torture him? But then he would also say something like "Well, yes, but cruelty is the way of the Sith, what else could be expected", he's just terribly messed up and couldn't stop himself from defending, at least a little, his literal groomer and abuser and master, and he certainly won't expect forgiveness, like,,,,at all. He can, and will, make excuses for people directly hurting him, but he also would retaliate in terrible ways against anyone, guilty or not, if it meant doing it for someone he cared about.

So Anakin is just...used to being used, and falls easily into being used because it's what he knows best, freedom feels useless and uncertain after he lost padmé.

It's an increíble vicious circle: He worked himself hard to be useful because being useful it's what makes people like him and a means of survival, he then hates himself for being just useful and loosing his personhood, and because he hates himself and thinks he doesn't deserve any sort of...human rights, he keeps on being a mere weapon, an object, but what a good and expensive weapon at least, repeat.

So nope, this guy would be completely unable to even dare to play the victim or excuse himself, even less act as if he doesn't understand he did wrong.

[five-rivers]

Danny spontaneously develops a new power but it happens in human form so he like,, calls down lightning or a comet or whatever on some hapless ghost or whatever and he’s just like ‘huh I didn’t know I could do that haha neat’ and continues on with his day meanwhile the people who just witnessed Danny Fenton’s apparent superpowers are Sweating

Some ghosts got on Danny's nerves more than others. In the same vein, some humans got on Danny's nerves more than others. When those two groups intersected, Danny got a little... tetchy.

At the moment, he was more than a little tetchy.

The Box Ghost and Youngblood had decided to team up, although that was probably overstating the situation. It looked like Youngblood had prodded Box Ghost into attacking Amity Park at the same time as him. The problem was, no one was afraid of the Box Ghost. Not really. The Box Ghost was basically harmless. Mr. Lancer could drive him off with a rolled up newspaper.

On the other hand, Youngblood was a threat. Youngblood was a threat, and only about half of Danny's classmates could see him. Certainly, none of the staff could. So, half of the students were convinced that the mayhem was all Box Ghost, and the other half thought that if the teachers and everyone else weren't afraid of Youngblood, he wasn't something they should be afraid of, either.

So! They were all there! Staring! Standing! Keeping Danny from going somewhere to transform! Because they were in the middle of the football field! For some sort of activity Danny hadn't payed attention to! Because Youngblood was the single most distracting things in the entire universe!

And unless Danny could do something about it, someone was going to get hurt. Youngblood had no limits on his pranks, and pranks without limits were indistinguishable from assassination attempts. Or something like that.

Although, at the moment, the only prank he was playing was 'got your nose.' Repeatedly. With only Danny.

... Maybe Danny was overstating the danger level here. And his inability to get away to transform.

Still, Danny didn't want to be known as the only guy who still ran from the Box Ghost. Everyone thought he was a wimp and a coward already. That would just cement his reputation. Forever. At least with the half of the class that fancied itself all grown up.

And maybe the fact the he still cared about his reputation explained why he could still see Youngblood. Whatever.

"Hey, hey, hey," said Youngblood, dipping back into Danny's view as Mr. Lancer attempted to herd the Box Ghost off the field. "Guess what, guess what, guess what--"

"I AM THE BOX GHOST! FEAR ME AND OBEY! I WILL NOT VACATE THE PREMISES UNTIL I RECEIVE MY TRIBUTE OF BOXES, SQUARE AND--"

"Guess what I'm gonna do, I'm gonna sing the song that never ends. It gOES ON AND ON--"

Danny took a deep breath. It was meant to be a calming breath. It was not.

"SHUT. UP!"

A tongue of light forked down from the admittedly cloudy sky, licking towards both the Box Ghost and Youngblood. It burned green when it hit them, leaving bright, ectoplasmic imprints on the back of Danny's eyes.

"You're no fun!" said Youngblood, much quieter than before. "I'm going home!"

"The Box Ghost will retreat... FOR NOW!"

Danny rubbed his eyes and sighed at the blessed silence.

Wait. Silence. That wasn't right. This place should be full of kids talking, at least. He looked up. Everyone was staring at him.

"Oh, huh, I didn’t know I could do that. Haha. Neat. Can we, uh. Get on with things?"

Very slowly, Mr. Lancer walked back into position and started his lecture again.

[thefunkfactory]

The Orders

Wyatt and his boyfriend Tate were watching the 2020 election results on TV as they cuddled together on the couch. They both believed that the election would be a landslide for the Democrats but after they had dozed off they had heard a loud announcement from the news anchor waking them both up, “It’s official! Donald Trump will continue serving this country as President of the United States of America!”. A sense of dread came over the two, “How could this have happened?” Wyatt sorrowfully asked, Tate just sat there in silence and held Wyatt closer.

Over the next few months life stayed practically the same even though Trump was acting like a dictator, all news channels were banned minus FoxNews and other right wing stations, Trump forcibly created the 28th Amendment which repealed the 22nd Amendment making it so that term limits vanished, and he had somehow managed to make it so that one of his children would take the Presidency if he ever stepped down or died. One day as the boyfriends were making dinner together the TV, which was playing the news for some background noise, ran a segment that sent chills down their backs. “Trump just declared that homosexuality is now criminalized in the United States of America. All homosexuals must go to their nearest police station and turn themselves in, immediately”. Hearing this they knew that they had to flee the country as soon as they could. Running to the bedroom Wyatt began packing up a suitcase for both him and Tate. While his boyfriend was rushing to pack in the bedroom Tate heard a knock at the door, he looked through the peephole and saw police officers standing on the other side of the door. “wyatt! what do we do? there are police at our front door!” Tate whispered to Wyatt after he ran to the bedroom. “ummm uhhhh I dont know!” Wyatt said fearfully as he heard a louder and more aggressive knock at their door. The two boys decided to hide in their own apartment and wait until the police hopefully leave.

The knocking continued until eventually they heard an officer yell at the other police officers “Alright thats it!” Thinking this meant the coast was clear Tate got out from under the bed even though Wyatt begged him not to. “Babe it’s fine they are leaving, didn’t you hear them?” Tate said to calm down his worried boyfriend. Tate walked out of the bedroom and into the living room when suddenly the front door was kicked in, “OH SHIT” Tate yelled out. Tate tried to flee but he heard a voice from the front door yell “THERE’S ONE! GET HIM!”. Before Tate could take more than two steps, 3 police officers ran in and took him down to the ground. Two held down his arms flat on the ground and one officer who was especially buff held down Tates legs. Tate heard someone slowly stepping into the apartment. He watched as this big, masculine police officer, obviously the leader of this mission, stepped over Tate’s restrained body. “What do you wan-?” Tate was cut off as the officer began to monologue, “Know what I hate? I’ll tell you what I hate, I hate people who bring down this beautiful country we have. It’s a shame that you were able to be such a stain on this great nation for so long, but now that Trump has given the orders, you and your…friendsss” the officer made a disgusted face as he said that last part “Well you all won't be a problem anymore”. “FUCK YOU!” Tate proclaimed with fire in his eyes. “Hahah awwww it’s cute when they have this much fire in ‘em it makes it so much more fun to see it drainnnnnn out” The 3 other police officers all laughed in sync, the same monotone laugh. The officer standing over Tate looked annoyed “We’re still working out their old personalities, these ones were fixed early this morning as soon as we got the order. Whoever made them “better” didn’t do the procedure right so we had to wipe their minds and start fresh.” The officer rolled his eyes. Tate was puzzled and asked “What do you mean “fixed”?”. “Huhuhuh oh buddy you really don’t know do ya? Police and Military across the nation have been given these” The officer held up a baggie with a bunch of red pills that looked like M&M’s and shook it, “to get rid of the gayness plaguing this nation. Some of my officers gave them to your “friends” this morning but they came out…wrong” As he said that he placed his right palm down on one the officer’s head who was holding down Tate’s arm. “This dumbass and the idiot behind me used to be a gross married couple. Good thing my men got to them before they could indoctrinate some kid or something” Said the officer standing above Tate. “No…no what did you do to them?!” Tate cried, “Oh don’t worry my dumb little gay boy, you’ll see”

Wyatt, with his hands clasped around his mouth, watched as the officer above Tate pulled a little red pill out of the baggie he held up earlier. He squatted down and pulled apart Tate’s clenched mouth and forced him to swallow the red pill. Wyatt watched as his boyfriend began to seize on the floor as the 3 other officers continued to hold him down. Wyatt was forced to watch as his boyfriend’s hair became shorter, thinner, and lighter, his fluffy brown hair had just dissolved into the dirty blonde mop now on his head. Wyatt watched as his boyfriend’s face gained some softer features, a rounded nose, a soft round jaw, but his brow bone became more prominent and his lips grew thinner. His boyfriend stopped shaking and calmed down but was now making animalistic grunts every few seconds. It was obvious he was trying to resist whatever was going on in his head. The officer looked down at Tate and saw that no progress had been made past his head, “Tsk I hate having to do this, you should just give into the right side”. The officer untied his boot and took it off, he gave it a whiff and recoiled his head “Oooof huhuh you’re in for it now!” the officer swatted over Tate and placed the boot right over his nose and mouth. Wyatt heard his boyfriend’s animalistic grunts get louder as the boot approached but as soon as it covered his face the grunts died down, becoming sparser than they were before the boot was lowered. This is when the real changes happened, Tate’s arms began to bulk up and his already hairless armpits stayed that way but still being able to proudly pump out pungent B.O., his chest grew two soft pillows as his pecs exploded with muscle. Tate’s stomach stayed lean while gaining some muscle and his thighs began to get girthier and girthier. Tate began to grunt loudly as he tried to push off the mindless officers holding him down, the officer who had been in charge of all of this removed the shoe and mockingly said “Awww you were doing soooo good.” He grabbed another red pill and forced it down Tate’s throat.

Tate quieted down quickly as his body continued transforming. Tate felt his ass twitch and tingle when suddenly it ballooned up like a life raft and was now a nice soft cushion. His legs grew a nice layer of hair that spread to his newly minted ass cheeks. Lastly Tate’s feet began to expand, “Ooooo this is the best part!” the officer in charge proclaimed. Tate’s feet grew bigger and meatier, a soft wafting stink began to float off of them which quickly evolved into a rotten smell of pungent cheese. Wyatt watched as his sweet sensitive boyfriend was left a sweaty and smelly mess on the ground. The officer said to himself, “Time to clear out his block, gotta make sure we get all that homo stuff out”. The officer bent down and placed his hand into his own armpit and then proceeded to place his hand right under Tate’s car, “Yea…smell that manly stink. Thats what you smell like now. You are a stinky, straight jock; nothing more, nothing less.” Tate began to grunt even more animalistic now but it wasn’t him trying to escape…Tate was moaning… Tate was thrusting the air and flip flopping between moaning and grunting as the officer continued his speech about Tate’s new form. Tate kept going and going until a wet spot appeared in the sweatpants Tate was wearing.

He was gone, sweet, innocent Tate, the guy who would always go along with the love of his life, Wyatt, the guy who accepted everyone, the guy who was a proud gay guy, all of that was now just a damp stain in his sweatpants, right in the crotch region. The officers turned the TV station to an obscure channel no-one would flop to on their own, it was just a looping video of a hypnotic spiral. It taught important truths about how evil gay people are and how much better it is to be straight as an arrow, and now Tate’s mushy, brain-drained mind was being forced to watch it. The officers stayed in the apartment for an hour as Tate was indoctrinated into the Republican party, the entire time Wyatt kept hidden under the bed. Once the officers left, Wyatt emerged and saw Tate still staring at the spiral and drooling, the officers had left him to sit through the spiral even longer than he needed to. As drool dribbled down his chin, Wyatt couldn’t help but feel awful for the smelly himbo that used to be his boyfriend. He grabbed a tissue and went up to the brainless giant to wipe away the drool when suddenly Tate looked at his and said “What do you think YOU are doing GAY BOY?!” his breath reeked something awful and Wyatt tried to back away. “Nah come here bro!” Tate lifted his armpit and grabbed Wyatts head and forced him deep into his noxious B.O. factory…

To Be Continued…

[idkwhatimdoinghere1655]

Don't Bite Your Lip - Lando Norris

<word count - 2524>

Another night, and another stream. This was how you had met Lando, but he had slowed it down once F1 was back up and running. Of course, he didn't really have much time to play games with George, Charles, and Alex anymore.

Today, you had been recommended a game by a few followers as well as a few friends. 'Don't Scream'. The game premise was just the same as the title, you had to get to the end of the game without screaming. If you made any noises that the program deemed too loud, you would have to restart.

"OK chat, I haven't looked at the game, I haven't watched any clips, I didn't want to take away any of the scare factor from it," you explained, watching the rapid replies of the chat come through as they filtered into the stream.

From the other room, Lando was watching on. He always enjoyed your streams, even if he got to see the real thing practically every day. Something about seeing you play games and chat with people was oddly comforting to him.

As much as he wished he could join you and play games together, he had team emails he needed to sort through, and he wouldn't get any of that done if he was watching you. He left the stream on his phone off to the side, just so he could hear the soothing tones of your voice while he worked.

"So, here we go," you said after calibrating your mic so that you could still talk to the chat in quiet whispers, but screaming would kill your character. "I've got to last 18 minutes, without screaming," you whispered, navigating around the map for a little bit.

Lando smirked to himself as he heard, his mind instantly taking you back to the last time you had visited his parents. He just couldn't keep his hands to himself, practically pinning you down on the bed in his old room the second the door was closed.

You had told him to stop, since you didn't want anyone (especially not his family) to hear any activities of that sort. As usual, Lando made promises that he did not intend to keep. Said he'd go steady, said he'd be gentle, but he got carried away.

You spent the whole time with his hand clapped over your mouth as you used every ounce of self restraint you had not to bite into the flesh of his palm. Lando thought it was one of the best nights you had together, but he wasn't a moaning, quivering mess, so you disagreed.

Shaking his head to snap out of his far from innocent thoughts, he glanced over at your stream to see that you had gotten 2 minutes into the game, the lights still on as you explored the site of the plane crash.

You wandered into the cockpit of the plane, trying to click on the tape recorder in the center console. Lando found the slight way that your nose scrunched up and your eyebrows came together in confusion as one of the most adorable things he had ever seen.

"Well that isn't worki-" you said, being cut off as you turned around and some form of monster ran at you. You let out a small squeak of surprise, and your character fell over and died. "Right, so that's how the game works. Got it." you said, slightly annoyed.

The jumpscare was cheap, it was basic, but damn was it effective. Both you and Lando could see the chat laughing at you and making fun of you for getting scared at such a minor thing. Someone sent through a super chat, with a small message of 'Y/N, Charles in a banana costume is scarier than that'.

"Charles in the banana costume was funny, not scary. That was scary. But now I know for next time," you laughed, entering back into the game. You manoeuvred back through the map, back through the plane, holding your breath as you turned around and endured the jumpscare again.

"I did it that time, I did it. I think I just need to try and not talk, because then I'm not making any noise to start with. That would make for some very boring content though," you whispered, continuing your way through the game.

The daylight turned to night, and you took your hands off the keyboard. "This is where shit gets scary," you said, subconsciously biting your lip so that you wouldn't let out any noise. Lando spotted the action out of the corner of his eye, his attention instantly averted from his emails to the stream.

"Emails can wait," he mumbled to himself, swapping off the tab of his emails and logging into Twitch so that he could watch the stream on his laptop instead of his phone. You looked tense, ready for something to happen at the drop of a hat.

"Is something supposed to be happening? Nothings happening," you quietly ranted, still walking through the forest. "I can hear weird noises but there's nothing going on," you continued, the only sounds being some faint sirens in the background.

"Chat stop saying my game is broken? Is it actually broken?" you asked, and Lando could hear the slight tone of panic in your voice. "I'll keep going, I can see a building."

"I really don't wanna go in the scary building. But fuck it," you said with a burst of confidence, sinking your teeth back into the soft flesh of your lower lip. You pushed your way through the shop, taking in your surroundings as you waited for something to happen. 

"Hanging bodies, how cheerful," you mumbled, scared to speak in case something popped up and you were mid sentence. Some form of skeletal monster jumped up from the bottom of your screen, and you leant back and bit even harder into your bottom lip.

"That nearly got me, but we've gotta power through," you whispered, and Lando could see the reddish-purple marks that your teeth were leaving behind in your skin. A pang of concern rippled through him, not wanting you to hurt yourself too badly. 

Yes, he loved it when you bit your lip in that way, but not in the way you were currently doing so. He could see the way your jaw tensed when you bit down harder when you thought something was coming, or you heard a noise in the background. 

'Baby don't bite your lip so hard, you'll start bleeding.' Lando messaged you, and it popped up on the corner of your desktop. 

"OK, sorry," you said, and chat was confused. "Lando just texted me, don't worry about it," you explained, and they were all asking you to bring Lando in. "Guys he's busy, maybe he'll make an appearance later." you told them, and Lando giggled to himself in the other room. 

He was supposed to be busy, but he was currently occupied with making sure you didn't make yourself bleed. 

You took yourself out of the shop and back out into the forest. Every small rustle made you flinch, but you were focusing more on not chewing on your lip than the actual jumpscares in the game. "Who is she and why is she stood there?" you questioned, looking at the lady in white with black hair that was stood in the forest.

As you took a step closer, she disappeared along with a blood-curdling scream. You had to hold a hand over your mouth and push your chair back from the desk to make sure the mic didn't pick up any noises you made or the sounds of your very heavy breathing. 

Lando found it extremely amusing, though he could tell you were biting your lip to stop yourself from making any noise, even under your hand. His suspicions were confirmed when you pulled your hand away and the faint teeth marks on the skin were darker and slightly more pronounced. 

'Bite that lip one more time and I'll be right in there to make sure you don't hurt yourself, got it?' he texted, the urge to burst into your office proving to be very strong indeed. He saw as your eyes drifted to the corner of your screen, and he knew you had read his message. 

"How the fuck have I still got 7 minutes left?" you complained, chat finding your reactions funny as hell. The next few minutes were fine, and you were nearly on your way to beating the game. You had gotten through 4 minutes of some pretty bearable jumpscares, and your chat was telling you that now the game just throws them at you without many breaks. 

There was more rustling, then footsteps, then silence. You didn't even care about Lando being annoyed at you for biting your lip, you cared more about not losing the goddamn game. You carried on walking, until you heard the footsteps coming at you in quick succession, not allowing you to compose yourself before the jumpscare happened. 

You saw a woman running at you from the shadows, and everything happened way to fast. "Oh fuck!" you yelled as your character died. Lando heard your shout from his place in the other room, yet he was more bothered at the sight of you biting your lip again. 

As you released it from between your teeth, his eyes narrowed and a hint of frustration crawled through his veins as he saw the dark indents they had left behind. He knew it was scary, but he didn't like you doing that to yourself. 

"God I was so close to the end as well. Fuck, that's annoying," you bloviated, leaning back in your chair as the main menu to the game popped back up on scream. "Give me a sec, and then we can go again chat, whew," you said, taking a deep breath.

"I'm going to go and get a glass of water, don't be getting up to any shenanigans while I'm gone." you told them, staying for a few seconds with the replies of 'we'll be good'. You hopped out of your chair, making your way down to the kitchen.

Lando made sure you were gone before slipping into your office, sitting down in the space you had vacated. Chat lost their minds as he appeared, the comments playfully berating him for pretending to be busy when he really wasn't.

"I was busy, but now I am not, so I'm here," he explained to them,. "She hates horror games, so I don't know how you talked her into playing this, but well done to your guys. It has been thoroughly entertaining."

'Lando I thought you were working, but you're watching the stream?' one comment said. 

"Yes, I was working and watching, I can multitask very well, thank you." he chuckled, hearing your feet coming back upstairs. "I was never here, OK? Don't grass on me." he instructed, but he knew chat would undoubtedly grass on him for his impromptu appearance. 

Lando hurried out of the room and back into the room next door, hoping you hadn't spotted him. Sitting back down in your chair, you saw all the comments screaming about Lando. "Lando isn't here, I don't know what you're on about."

The barrage of comments telling on Lando and talking about Lando continued to flow in, and you were getting more confused by the second. "Guys I do not know what you mean, Lando wasn't here. He's still working." you told them, and Lando was trying to keep his laughter quiet in the other room as he watched on. 

"Lando?" you called out, his ears pricking up at the sound of your voice. 

"Yeah?"

"Can you come in here for a sec?" you asked, and he moved from his position and came into your office. "Right, have you been in here at all today?"

"No, I haven't. Why do you ask?" he cheekily grinned, looking over at chat and seeing the replies. 

'This man is trying to gaslight his way out of it smh' was a response that caught his eye. 

"I am not gaslighting, I wasn't here," he kept up his act of innocence. "Do I get to sit down or do I just have to hover awkwardly here?"

"Pull up a chair, my old one is in the closet," you told him, watching as he moved over to your cupboard and opened it, wheeling it out to be by your side. 

"Well shuffle up, you can't hog all the frame," he lightheartedly jibed, pushing you over. "Come on, we're playing again. No biting your lip this time, that looks like it hurts," he repeated, leaning in to look at the fading marks on your lip. 

"Yeah yeah, whatever," you rolled your eyes, starting up the game again and going through the motions. The scares got you less, but Lando was watching you like a hawk. As you returned to the shop, your lip somehow found its way between your teeth again. 

"Baby. Lip." Lando scolded in a whisper, and chat were dying at his commands. You listened and managed to not tug at your lip for the next 15 minutes, but, once you had reached the end, new scares that you hadn't seen before were popping up one after the other after the other. 

All you had was one minute left. One more minute and you could be done with the stupid game and go back to your chilled out, cozy streams of games that didn't make your heart rate spike through the roof. One more minute until-

"Don't bite your lip like that!" Lando chided a little too loudly, causing the game to react and kill you just before you had reached the end.

"Lando for fucks sake I was nearly there!" you exclaimed, looking at him with eyes of thunder. "My lip would've been fine for just 30 more seconds."

"Don't blame me, you could've just done what I asked, but no." Lando returned, crossing his arms and sitting back in his chair.

The comments were all along the lines of 'Oh shit, mum and dad are fighting again.'

Before Lando could get another word in, you told chat that you were going to call it a night, the both of you saying your goodbyes and shutting down the stream. Lando went to get ready for bed while you shut off your computer and your equipment, before turning off the LEDs in the room and leaving.

The second you walked through the bedroom door, Lando tugged on your wrist and pushed you down on the bed. You had no time to respond to his actions as he crawled over you, holding himself on top of you with a hand at either side of your head.

"You bite that goddamn lip one more time, I'm going to be pissed, got it?" he lowly said, his tone firm with a slight hint of mischief. 

"Mhm," you hummed, nodding. If you were going to listen to him at any time, now was sure as hell that time. Lando could be one ruthless bastard, but you were always one to answer to his demands. It ended better for you that way, anyway. Much, much, better.

A/N - Seriously you lot, thank you so so so much on the love you've been giving my stuff recently. I really hope that I don't get shadowbanned again, and I hope you enjoy this little ol' Lando thing I whipped up last night. Also... lmk in my comments or inbox (if the fucking thing starts working because Tumblr really needs to get on that) if y'all want me to get back into writing smut... because I've been considering it recently. I have 2 or 3 things started that I just never finished because I hate the way I write it, but it's gone down pretty well before, so I'll let you guys be the judge. Sorry for rambling, have a wonderful day/night, love y'all! 💖💖

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