#I started trying to figure out the time line

[rafecameronssl4t]

Two pink lines || dad!Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

Summary: Getting pregnant at nineteen by Rafe—who was still knee-deep in his issues and drugs—wasn’t exactly on your bingo card.

Warnings: s1rafe…..yeah….. mention of cocaine

Word count: 1,413

A/n: I acc enjoy writing s1!dad!rafe a lot… lmk if u want more!!

MASTERLIST (dad!rafe au masterlist)

The two pink lines showed up fast—too fast. You stared down at the test, perched on the edge of your marble bathroom counter, like it might suddenly disappear if you looked away. But it didn’t. The second line deepened, steady, undeniable. Solid pink. Positive.

Your hand shook as you placed the test back down, chest rising in shallow, quick breaths. You were nineteen. Nineteen. You lived in a gilded prison of beachfront houses and Sunday brunches and family names that meant something. You had a trust fund, an inheritance, a reputation to protect.

You were supposed to be the good one, the composed one, the one who didn’t end up barefoot and pregnant like one of the Pogues your mother whispered about behind cocktail glasses. And yet—here you were. Pregnant. Because of one stupid, reckless night.

A night where Rafe had gotten too bold, too desperate, too handsy in the backseat of his truck after a kook party. You’d both been tipsy. Things had gotten heated. You were both tipsy, the windows fogged up, your judgement clouded. There was no condom in the console. He’d promised it would be fine. “Just this once, babe. I swear I‘ll pull out.” You’d let him.

You were drunk on him, his kisses, the way his fingers tangled in your hair like he couldn’t get enough of you. And God, you wanted to believe him. You pressed your knuckles to your lips, trying to stop the bile from rising. This was real. This was happening.

You stumbled back onto the cool tiles of the floor, legs folded beneath you, trying to breathe through the panic clawing at your chest. You didn’t cry. Not yet. You couldn’t. Not until you talked to him. So, you called him. The phone rang twice before his lazy voice answered.

“Babyyy,” Rafe slurred, all soft and syrupy. You could hear the fan in his room spinning. “It’s—what time is it? Why you callin’ me at—” He yawned. “—the middle of the night?” It wasn’t the middle of the night. It was 9:43pm. But you didn’t bother correcting him.

“Rafe,” you said, your voice too shaky. “Are you—are you high right now?” A chuckle. “Only a little bit. Nothin’ serious.” You closed your eyes, pressing your fingers to your forehead. He’d promised he’d stop—at least slow down. But that was always after the fact. Always a “next time.”

“I need to tell you something,” you said. “Yeah? Can it wait, babe? I’m about to pass out, not gonna lie…” “No,” you snapped, and your voice cracked. “It can’t wait.” That made him go quiet. You could almost picture him blinking up at the ceiling, brows twitching slightly in confusion.

“…Okay. What’s goin’ on?” You swallowed. “I’m pregnant.” Another beat of silence. Then: “…Wait. What?” “I’m pregnant,” you repeated, each syllable like a stone in your throat. “I took two tests. I—I’m late. I’ve been nauseous. I’ve never been late. Rafe, I’m pregnant.”

There was a long, slow exhale from the other end of the line. Not panic. Not urgency. Just a half-baked sort of curiosity.“…Damn,” he muttered. “For real?” “Yes, for real,” you snapped. “Jesus, Rafe—this is serious.” He hummed softly, as if he were still trying to wrap his sleepy, high brain around it.

“Well, I mean… it’s not the end of the world, right? I mean, you and me—we’ll figure it out.” You blinked, stunned by the casualness in his tone. “What?” “I’m just saying, like, we’ve been together a minute. You know I love you. This ain’t gonna ruin anything. Don’t freak out, alright?”

You stood up, pacing now, your robe trailing behind you on the tile. “Rafe—we’re nineteen years old. You’re talking like we’re some married couple on the verge of starting a family. We don’t even know what the hell we’re doing tomorrow, let alone—raising a baby.”

“We’ll get help,” he said easily. “You’re parents are loaded. My dad’s loaded—he’ll chill once he knows it’s mine. I mean, you think Ward’s gonna not help with his grandkid?” You let out a sharp, humourless laugh. “Rafe, Ward can barely handle you. He’ll lose his goddamn mind. And my parents—fuck, my parents are going to kill me.”

He paused, and for a second you thought maybe something was finally clicking in his head. But then: “Look…you’re stressin’ for no reason. You don’t gotta do anything right now. Just…breathe. It’s you and me, alright? We’ll figure it out.” “No, Rafe,” you snapped, voice rising.

“You don’t have to do anything right now. You get to lay in your bed, high out of your mind, and pretend this is no big deal. But I have to carry this. I have to tell people. I have to be the one to face everyone’s disappointment and judgement and—and—”

You stopped, breath heaving. “I’m scared,” you whispered. “I’m really fucking scared.” And that’s when he finally sobered—at least a little. “…Shit,” he muttered. “I didn’t know you were feelin’ like that.” You sat back down on the edge of your tub, clutching the phone tighter. “Yeah. Well. I am.”

The line was quiet for a long moment. “I’m sorry, baby,” he said quietly. “I swear I didn’t mean to act like it wasn’t a big deal. I just—I’m not good with this stuff. You know that.” “I need you to be,” you whispered. “I need you to be good at this, Rafe. Because if I do this—if we do this—I can’t do it alone.”

“I won’t let you,” he said, more serious now. “I’ll get clean. I’ll get my shit together. I’ll—I’ll go to that place Rose keeps talkin’ about. I’ll do whatever you want. Just don’t shut me out.” Your heart ached at the promise. You wanted to believe him. You wanted to. “Okay,” you whispered. “Okay.”

“We’ll figure it out,” he repeated, softer now. “I swear to God, I’ll be better. For you. For the baby.” You stared down at the test again. Two pink lines. Clear as day. “…We’ll see,” you said.

[norristrii]

ALL OR NOTHING.

IN WHICH… how he would be as your teammate rival. (who secretly likes you)

featuring. Lando Norris, Max Verstappen, Oscar Piastri, Charles Leclerc, Carlos Sainz, Lewis Hamilton.

warnings. rivalry, rivals to lovers, idk ?

LANDO NORRIS

─── constant comparing: You joined the team and achieved more in one season than he has in years. It hurt. He hid it with jokes, but deep down, he was frustrated—and impressed.

─── passive aggressive: He’ll drop lines like, “Congrats. Must be nice to get it all handed to you,” even though he knew you earned it. It stings because he was jealous.

─── got weird when you beat him: If you place higher or make a smart move on track, he went quiet. Not cold—just… affected. Like losing to you meant more than losing points.

─── just teasing…or?: He teased you nonstop. Said you’re lucky, too confident, too shiny. But behind the banter? There was real emotion he didn’t know what to do with.

─── confessed at the worst time: One race, you both end up out after colliding. The team is upset. You argue. And then… “You came in and did in a year what I’ve been chasing for seven. I wanted to hate you. But somehow I just… didn’t.”

MAX VERSTAPPEN

─── thought you were overhyped: From day one, Max was skeptical. He saw the media buzz around your debut and thought you were just hype—flashy, fast-talking, and bound to fade by mid-season. “Let’s see if she survives one season," he said, watching your first out lap with arms folded, unimpressed—but watching all the same.

─── tried to ignore you: You beat him in qualifying early on. He said nothing. No handshake, no acknowledgment. But later, when you weren't looking, he lingered in the sim room and pulled up your lap telemetry. He told himself it was to “analyze the rookie.” In reality? He just needed to understand how the hell you were already that good.

─── refused to praise you publicly: When reporters asked about your growing success, he deflected. “Let her prove it over time.” But on team comms? You’d occasionally hear coded praise slip through: "Sector 2… clean. Not bad."

─── jealous when others hyped you up: When fans or journalists started calling you Max’s toughest challenger, his smile thinned. His body language shifted in press conferences, suddenly rigid. The next session? He drove like he was out to silence every headline

─── admitted it quietly: After a tense debrief, where you'd just barely out-qualified him again, the room emptied out. You expected a cold comment. Instead, he stayed silent, then finally said: “I hated that you made it look easy. Like I wasted years being careful.” You didn’t speak. He added—quieter this time: “Then I realized… I didn’t hate you at all.”

OSCAR PIASTRI

─── barely acknowledged your arrival: Oscar was always been reserved, but when you joined the team, he barely looked up. He figured you'd be fast, maybe clever—but still someone he'd out-race with calm calculation.

─── oddly fixated on your driving style: You noticed it during sim runs—he'd pause your data, replay your apex choices, then recreate them himself. He never said it out loud, but his way of understanding you started with your telemetry.

─── corrected you once, and hated it: During a strategy meeting, he publicly disagreed with your call. Later, he found you alone and said, "I wasn’t trying to prove you wrong. I just wanted to sound like I could keep up." the air between you shifted.

─── always races you clean, but just a little too close: You notice he never goes aggressive against you. Always leaves space. But his battles with you feel more intense than any other driver. Almost like he's chasing something more than a result.

─── flinched when you got hurt: After a minor crash, the team rushed to check you. Oscar stayed behind... until he thought no one’s watching. Then he headed to the medical room, peeked inside, and said: “Don’t do that again, you scared the shit out of me.”

CHARLES LECLERC

─── judged you harshly at first: Charles saw your rise as threatening. You were fast, fearless, and already drawing headlines. “She’s good,” he admitted once. “But she hasn’t been broken yet.” He believed true greatness came through loss—and waited to see how you'd handle pain.

─── felt exposed every time you beat him: When you started outrunning him, he wasn’t angry—he was rattled. You reminded him of everything he used to be before years of heartbreak dulled his spark. He avoided you after big wins. Quiet jealousy. Quiet awe.

─── raced you harder than anyone else: With others, he was clean. Precise. With you? Pushes to the limit. Wheel-to-wheel, late braking, side glances across the cockpit. He said it was competition. You knew it was something else.

─── shared brief moments that hit like thunder: After one qualifying session where you outpaced him, he passed you in the hallway and whispered: “That was beautiful.” You turned—but he was already gone.

─── found excuses to talk to you off track: Asked about setup tweaks he didn’t really need. Discussed race strategies as if your opinion mattered more than telemetry. Every conversation was him trying not to say the real thing: I trust you. I admire you. I think I’m falling.

CARLOS SAINZ

─── saw you as a challenge from day one: Carlos clocked your pace immediately and didn’t take it lightly. You weren’t just quick—you were clever, and that ticked every box on his threat radar. “She’s too confident,” he told his engineer with a smirk. Then you beat him in your second qualifying together. The smirk disappeared.

─── flirted with precision: Where others teased, Carlos was calculated. Compliments with bite: “Nice line through Turn 11… I almost used it myself.” The banter never felt casual—it felt like fencing with words, both of you pretending it wasn’t flirting.

─── tried to beat you and impress you at the same time: Late braking into turn battles, daring overtakes in FP1—it was all war, but you knew when he left just enough room, it wasn’t just good racecraft. It was respect. Maybe even care.

─── got possessive without realizing: When the team praised your setups more, he stayed quiet—but switched engineers mid-season. When another driver posted a photo with you, he liked it hours later, but unfollowed them quietly a week later. Carlos plays it smooth, but jealousy makes him messier than he admits.

─── nearly said it during a media storm: Rumors flew after one dramatic wheel-to-wheel battle. Pundits speculated teammate tension. In a quiet moment in the motorhome, Carlos looked at you, tired and maybe just a little unguarded. “I didn’t come here to fall for the person who’s beating me.” Then added— “But I guess you’re better at surprises than I thought.”

LEWIS HAMILTON

─── underestimated the emotional impact of you: Lewis welcomed you to the team with calm confidence. He’d seen rookies come and go. But when you started beating his lap times? His composure held… and cracked quietly beneath the surface.

─── watched, studied, remembered: You’d mention a setup preference once—he’d remember it weeks later. You joke mid-briefing? He quotes it under his breath during press. He says he’s focused on racing… but you live in his mental playlist now.

─── kept up appearances—but starts slipping: Always gracious in public. Smiles when you shine. But alone in the sim room, his fingers hesitate. You’re faster. His heart’s louder. His pride and feelings blur. “She is brilliant,” he tells his trainer. Then adds, quieter—“Too brilliant”

─── pushed harder when you challenged him: You beat him in Q3. His answer? A flawless overtake the next day, surgical and silent. Post-race, he hands you your helmet with a nod that feels… heavy. You ask, “Problem?” He shrugs. “Just learning what it feels like to lose to someone I care about.”

─── almost broke during a night flight: After a rough weekend, you're seated beside him on the team jet. Quiet. Tension simmering. He finally whispers: “You remind me of me before I was careful.” Pause. “Maybe that’s why I can’t stop wanting you to win. Even if it breaks me when you do.”

© norristrii 2025

babsie radio ! quick headcanons, I’m starting to work on roommate! lando 🫶🏻

[batrogers]

Often with a rapid influx of REALLY long comments, I try to give equally long comments back in reply. However, this *does* require effort so a sudden drop off or gap in replies may simply mean that the author needs a breather.

With regards to extensive analysis comments, it depends on what directions you go in. if your ideas really don't mesh with the authors (or you start speculating too much, either correctly -- possible spoilers if they answer!! -- or not) that can also make it a bit harder to reply. It doesn't make your comment "bad" but you can probably see where that would make figuring out how to answer *harder* and require a bit more time and effort to try to engage with it without spoilers or feeling rude if someone's very much gone in a direction the author didn't actually intend.

(We don't want to insult your engagement either! But sometimes analytical commenters are just wrong. How do you politely say "Neat idea! Not happening here, but glad you're having fun!"? Its hard!)

My guess would be that if the author had been replying for a while but you've been commenting frequently in rapid succession they just need a break and the replies will pick up again soon. If you really want/need replies to not worry, dialling back on analysis/speculation (eg. a few lines of it to a paragraph, vs multiple) and focusing on shorter comments would help -- but if you're okay with them taking their time, keep them long!

I reread the stream-of-consciousness comments I got *several* times before I had the energy to reply myself. Personally, I want to match the effort and energy that went into the comment out of respect to you, too! But yeah, it can take days to weeks to months for some authors to clear their inbox. The odds its something you did are quite low <3

I really really really don't know who to ask and I'm new to AO3😢😥😥 Is commenting too much awkward??? I'm socially inadept and interacting with people online gives me an overload of anxiety and recently I've found this fic and fell super deep in love with it and commented massive messages on each chapter. The author replied to me at the beginning but recently they just stopped (hi I understand it's not the author's job to reply and they're likely busy with their life too) but I can't help but be kind of worried that I somehow had put them off (because my comments sometimes involves analyzations and if I get into something too much I can be too excessive) I plead for advice is this normal???

while I can only speak for myself, I as a writer absolutely LOVE it when people give me long comments (the longer, the better lol) and, for me personally, there’s no such thing as too many comments.

love love love love these long comments, they help motivate me, especially when my readers give me deep analysis on the characters and/or their actions.

anyway, fellow writers, reblog if you love long positive comments

[steddieas-shegoes]

the necklace

for @corrodedcoffinfest prompt 'the cutting edge'

rated m | 983 words | cw: implied/referenced drug use, implied sexual content | tags: rock star eddie, famous corroded coffin, figure skater steve, flirting

also on ao3

⛸️⛸️⛸️⛸️⛸️⛸️⛸️⛸️⛸️⛸️⛸️⛸️

Figure skating competitions aren’t exactly their thing. They’re about as out of place as Wayne was when he went to Coachella to watch Corroded Coffin headline the big stage.

But world champion and two time gold medalist Steve Harrington is using their song for his little routine, so obviously they need to be there to support him. That’s what Chrissy said, at least.

“It’ll look good for you to be there,” she’d said when Eddie tried to argue that they would be wasting time and money. “And anything we can do to make you look good is important.”

And he couldn’t argue that because, well. He fucked up.

Got caught doing lines off the back of a toilet at a club with two women sucking him off. Rockstar stuff. Something he really never did and of course one of the few times, he got caught. There were pictures.

Chrissy has been in recovery mode for the entire band ever since.

They’ve been doing anti-drug campaigns for schools as if that’s even an effective way to keep the youths from getting high on whatever they can find. Eddie made an official statement on camera about practicing safe sex and apologizing for taking advantage of the women who most definitely were there willingly. The band issued a statement that Eddie was on a short leash and if another incident occurred, he’d be on his way to rehab.

Which is dumb because he doesn’t have a drug problem, or a sex addiction, or anything the tabloids say. The guys know that. Chrissy knows it. But they have to do whatever will keep them in a positive light so they can book arenas on their next tour.

Apparently, going to this skating competition will help.

It’s not boring, surprisingly. It’s just not how Eddie wants to spend his Friday.

He watched a few of Steve’s routines in preparation.

The guy is hot. Like, really hot. Somehow very muscular and light on his feet at the same time. Eddie can see why he’s so popular.

What shocks him most is that Steve usually dances to pop songs and 80s ballads for his competition routines and suddenly he decides to bring out one of their slower, but still dark songs. It doesn’t make sense.

Until it does.

When Steve takes the ice, the crowd stands, cheers so loud it makes Eddie’s chest vibrate. He doesn’t expect it, and it’s clear Gareth, Frankie, and Jeff don’t either. He’s in all black, only one small piece of color standing out.

A red guitar pick necklace.

Eddie’s head turns to Chrissy, who is conveniently ignoring him.

He turns back to watch as the music starts. He wrote this song with Jeff, fucking around in the back of his van when they were still just trying to book whatever bar would have them. It evolved into something else when they actually got to record it in a real studio, something more haunting and liminal when compared to the rest of their track list.

Steve glides across the ice, jumps and falls perfectly in sync to the crescendo of the guitar and drum solo. Eddie’s fascinated, can’t look away from the masterpiece happening in front of him. He almost can’t believe he gets to see someone make such beautiful art from their song.

When Steve stops, Eddie stands and yells, clapping louder than everyone around him.

“I need to see him,” he says to Chrissy when the announcers have given the scoring that places him in first. “Can you get me down there?”

She smirks and nods, like she’s planned this exact reaction. She couldn’t have.

Could she?

***

The medal ceremony is long, but watching Steve take gold is a memory Eddie will have forever.

Chrissy does manage to bring them all down to congratulate him after he does media. He looks worn out by the time he gets to them, still in his outfit and skates.

Still wearing Eddie’s necklace.

“How did you get that?” Eddie asks instead of saying hello or congratulations.

Steve smirks. “Pulled some strings.”

He starts to take it off, but Eddie stops him. The room goes silent.

“Looks pretty good next to that gold medal. You should keep it,” Eddie doesn’t know what he’s saying. That’s his lucky necklace. He hasn’t gone onstage without it in years. “Maybe it’ll bring you more gold.”

“Ah, well. I’m retiring. These knees aren’t gonna hold out much longer,” Steve half-jokes. “Plus, it’s time to let others shine.”

“But you’re so talented!”

“I’ll coach for a bit. Pass it on. That’s the beauty of the sport,” Steve explains.

He’s so pretty. Eddie wants to stare at him all night.

“Jesus, he’s embarrassing,” Gareth says behind him.

“What?” Eddie turns, glaring at him.

“You said it out loud, dumbass.”

Eddie turns bright red. “Oh.”

Steve steps closer, a solid two inches taller than him in his skates. He smiles down at Eddie.

“Let me get changed and have my coach find us a spot for dinner. Wouldn’t want you to have to stop staring.”

Eddie’s never been charmed like this before. He feels faint.

“Yeah! Okay. The guys can just head back to the hotel or whatever,” Eddie tries to sound nonchalant, fails.

“Oh my god,” Frankie groans. “Please don’t do something stupid.”

“I’ll keep an eye on him,” Steve promises, never taking his eyes off Eddie. “Wouldn’t want him to get distracted before I can get my mouth on him.”

Eddie’s eyes widen and Chrissy claps her hands once.

“Alright! Have fun! Be safe! Save it for a hotel room!”

She ushers the guys away quickly and Eddie’s grateful for it. They shouldn’t see him blundering this.

Steve leans in and kisses his cheek. “You’re gonna be fun. See you in ten.”

Eddie’s left standing there with pink cheeks and a determination to be fucked within an inch of his life later.

[saccharinescorpion]

i love that Susie can't stop collecting psuedoparental figures... obviously her relationship with the Old Man is fantastic, but i keep thinking about her and Toriel. Toriel clearly was someone Susie desperately needed to meet when she did, and the way she acts around her in the present day really reflects how grateful she is for that. the way that Susie gets all stiff when she enters the Dreemurr house and starts speaking super politely is cute, but it's also a little sad... she really, really cares about Toriel's opinion of her and she really, really doesn't want to screw this up

that's why her relationship with Tenna is really sweet to me. Susie doesn't really care about his opinion of her so she behaves like she normally does and acts out, but Tenna just rolls with it so naturally. the way he just riffs off her antics and insults ("Get in line, kid!") is fun to watch, but it's also honestly heartwarming because you get the sense that adults in Susie's life usually just immediately shut her down or act like she's a ticking bomb. Tenna is like... not the ideal, responsible sort of adult figure that Susie needs, the kind of person Toriel is, but at the same time, he's a different sort of adult figure that i think she also needs? someone she doesn't feel like she has to put an act on around... like a cool , slightly loser-ish uncle

i could use this as a jumping off point to write about Tenna and Toriel as foils, but unfortunately, what i'm here to do instead is say this: i think there should have been another alternate Tenna ending where Susie brings the TV back inside and keeps trying to convince Toriel to keep it using increasingly bizarre arguements, and over time it becomes obvious that she's attempting to, somehow, play matchmaker for Toriel and her television

[sanctus-ingenium]

heeeeeeeeyyy i really appreciate your posts where you talk about the process of creating your work! can you tell how carefully you plan your work in advance, like line construction, palette, textures or composition? for you it's usually clearly divided steps or do you switch between them periodically? and is there a possibility to see new videos of your work process? thank you so much for everything you create, it's very valuable and inspiring!

boring answer but It Depends... sometimes i know every detail before i draw it right down to the exact effects and palette but sometimes i don't and i just invent it as i go. the starting spot is usually "what story am i telling here" and it doesn't have to be complicated or elaborate but i want to make a drawing which appears to have its own narrative and what that is can be up for interpretation or whatever but the important part is that it is conveying something beyond just 'here is a drawing i made'. that's why i don't post here too often, because this part is the hardest part

then i make my sketch and colour it with a speculative palette. in this one i thought about the barrier between air and water and the visuals of félix being forced down under the water - or raised out of it, depending on what orientation you viewed the image at. i use all my effects and textures in this stage just to try them out and see what's good, how the values work together, how readable the image is, etc. in the end i chose a different direction which recalls water without being overly literal and instead places more emphasis on the texture of the hands and the assault

A lot of the time i make a sketch in sai before moving it to procreate because i find it easier to wrap my head around it on a bigger screen. For this picture of pascal chained up i actually drew him normal style first (normal head-on perspective i mean) in this pose to get a handle on it and then i redrew it like the above in sai, and then i redrew it again in procreate. when i made this one, i mostly had the figure in mind and didn't know what to do about the rest of the drawing. so i just threw some effects at it and called it a day. most of my colour is done in procreate because it easier

some WIPs don't go anywhere either or they're just used as proof of concept (in this case his weird visual effects & visible joint seams)

no new videos atm my tablet is experiencing critical storage issues

[mikkies]

「 LAGING NAKATANAW SA MGA TALA'T NAKADUNGAW SA BINTANA. 」

Griefer x GN! Artist! Reader

warnings: none!

notes: so I made Griefer super soft, don't kill me😿

CLMBING UP GRIEFER’S stupid treehouse always felt like a side quest. 

First, a rusty ladder. Then, a plank bridge that probably violates all safety laws. And finally, the creaky stairs that lead to the entrance of his so called "home".

"Y0U'R3 L4T3!" Brad no—Griefer was lying upside-down on a bean bag surrounded by empty soda cans, a half-finished Witches' Brew in one hand and a pencil tucked behind his ear.

"I'm literally two minutes early."

"ST1LL L4T3," he replied, pointing an accusatory finger at you like he’d won some invisible argument.

You rolled your eyes and stepped over a pizza box pyramid, holding your sketchbook like it was sacred cargo. 

His room smelled like artificial watermelon and soda, but you were used to it by now.

"You said you wanted to doodle today. I brought pens."

Griefer launched himself upright with the energy of a caffeine-infused raccoon. “F1N4LLY. TH0UGHT YOU’D CH1CK3N 0UT.”

"You literally begged me last night."

He grinned with some of his red teeth showing.

“WH4T3V3R. L3T’S DR4W STUFF BLOW1NG UP.”

You gave him a look. “...That’s every time.”

“C4USE 1T’S C00L.” He was already spreading out the papers. His neon green jacket crinkled as he sat cross-legged, dragging you down to sit beside him. 

Your pens spilled across the floor like confetti.

"You wanna draw with me or talk trash all day?"

“I C4N MULT1T4SK,” he said, wiggling his eyebrows.

“S0M3T1M3S.”

You laughed and opened your sketchbook. 

Before you could even begin, he leaned over and scribbled a wonky stick figure on your page.

"Is that me?"

“YUP. TH1S 1S Y0U G3TT1NG PWN3D IN A 1V1 DU3L.”

"...I don't even play PvP."

“EX4CTLY.”

You shoved his shoulder playfully. “You’re impossible.”

“AND Y3T, Y0U’RE ST1LL H3R3.”

He wasn't wrong.

A few minutes passed in rare silence—just the scratching of pens and the occasional slurp from his soda can. 

Griefer’s drawings were mostly explosions, pixelated swords, and him standing on a pile of loot.

But somewhere in between, you noticed he was also trying to copy your style.

You didn’t mention it. You just smiled and kept drawing.

He peeked over at your side of the page. “WH0’S TH4T? M3?”

"...Yeah."

It was him—messy jacket, cocky grin, hat too big for his head. But you’d drawn him softer. 

Less loud. More like how he looked when he zoned out mid-sip of Witches’ Brew and didn’t realize you were watching.

He stared at it for a second.

“...D4MN. Y0U M4K3 M3 L00K—” His voice caught. 

“.. L4M3.”

You blinked. “You're lame.”

“SHUT UP. 1 4M N0T.” But he was smiling.

You chuckled and reached for another pen. “Well, I guess we’re a perfect pair then. Artist and lame guy.”

He bumped your knee with his. “C4LL M3 L4M3 4G41N 4ND 1’LL DR4W Y0U L4M3.”

"Too late. I already drew you crying over a spilt soda."

His jaw dropped in betrayal. “Y0U M0NST3R!”

“You said I was annoying yesterday.”

“Y0U 4RE S0 4NN0YING!!” But he didn’t move away.

He leaned over and started sketching beside you again—his lines messier than yours, but full of energy. 

You caught him glancing at your hand once, like maybe he wanted to hold it but didn’t know how to ask without sounding like a dork.

Eventually, he said, quieter,

“Y’KN0W… 1T’S… C00L. DO1NG TH1S. W1TH Y0U.”

You looked at him, smiling. “Drawing?”

“N4H. L1K3… H4V1NG S0M30NE HERE. L1KE, R34LLY HERE.”

"...Brad?"

His eye twitched. “...GOD. D0N’T C4LL M3 TH4T. Y0U SUCK.”

But he wasn’t mad.

And when he tossed a blanket over both of you later, claiming it was "T0 ST0P ANN0Y1NG H1M", you didn't argue.

You just kept doodling next to him, right where you both wanted to be.

[sourkiki]

CHANGE OF PACE

VOL. 15: your boyfriend wants you to take charge for today. it went even better than you expected.

wc: 1259 𑁛 explicit mature content established relationship sub! 이희승 x dom! fem! reader bondage usage of 'good boy' pussy eating ⪩⪨ foot job heel kink (i think) ❀ catalogue

note. trying a new post format... and this is once again, a repost from my previous account. live love laugh sub hee. this is for you @chuhees ><

You didn’t expect this to happen. This means having your beloved and sweet boyfriend willingly on his knees, hands tied behind his back with a red rope wrapped around his wrists. You didn’t want to tie it too tight—in fear of hurting him but if anything, Heeseung was persistent. It took him a solid five minutes for him to finally convince you to tighten the rope, not tight enough to leave marks behind but tight enough for it to hurt when he tried tugging at it. 

About ten minutes ago, you were seated on his lap, sharing lazy, languid kisses with one another. Sometimes, both of you are in the mood to wind down and savor the time you have together, not having any intentions of rushing it. You had hummed into Heeseung’s bruised lips when he nipped at your lips, igniting sparks of pleasure that ran down your spine. The both of you were practically breathing into one another’s mouth but you didn’t care. 

“Princess, I have an idea,” he murmured against your lips, hand already slid underneath your oversized shirt to trace random patterns on your spine, causing your hair to stand upright. 

“What is it?” You asked, having to be the one to break the kiss when Heeseung kept kissing you, eliciting a soft laugh from you when he whined; disappointed at the sudden distance. 

“..I want you to take control,” he said and you stared at him, stunned. 

“Are you sure? I don’t mind but I don't want to make you feel uncomfortable—” You started rambling, only for Heeseung to shush you by resting his finger on your lips. 

“I’m sure and I know you won’t hurt me,” he reassured you. Which brings you to your current situation. 

You have to admit, you felt powerful, like you have the upperhand. Looking down at your boyfriend who’s still on his knees, eyes fixated on you—waiting for you to do something, anything. You scanned him from head to toe, noting how the black collar wrapped around his neck, along with a long black leash made him look more like a pet than anything else. Pursing your lips in a straight line, you stood before him, your towering figure casting a shadow over his kneeled form. 

A coy, sly smile stretches across your face from ear to ear. “You like this, don’t you? You like feeling helpless, like a little deer.” You leaned down to whisper to him, lips purposely grazing against the sensitive skin of his ear, making him shakily exhaled. 

“P-Please,” he whined, instinctively flinching when you raised your left leg, only for you to rest the tip of your red Christian Louboutin on his already formed bulge, poking out from the constraints of his sweatpants. 

You gave a light tug on the leash held in your left hand when you saw him trying to move his hips upward—searching for any signs of friction, drawing a whimper from Heeseung at the sudden jolt. Clicking your tongue, you grabbed his face, two hands on both sides of his cheek and coos at the sight of his teary, pleading doe-like eyes.

“Look at you, I haven’t even done anything and you’re already like this. Maybe I should let you cum just from this,” you emphasized on the last word, lightly pressing your heel down on his clothed cock. 

Heeseung cried out when you dug your heel further into his bulge, twisting your feet in just the right angle, making stars explode behind his eyes. He wasn’t sure where to go—backward or forward. He doesn’t know if he wants to chase after the delirious feeling or move away. He should feel embarrassed with how he’s enjoying this but with how his muscles tightened and he could feel his orgasm coming, he threw the rest of his sanity out of the window. Instead, Heeseung ended up canting his hips upward, moaning at how heavenly your heel felt against his cock, through the fabric of his sweatpants. 

You laughed, mocking him as you used a little more force to tug on the leash, pulling him forward slightly. The slight movement allows Heeseung to practically hump your heel, acting like a dog in heat. 

“You gonna cum?” You asked at the sight of his movements growing sloppy. 

Your boyfriend frantically nodded his head, eyes already dazed and half-lidded. He parted his lips, about to say something, only for him to hiss when you abruptly grabbed a fistful of his hair, cranking his head backwards. You took the opportunity of him being surprised to spit into his parted mouth. Heeseung greedily swallowed, all the while maintaining eye contact with you. That was enough for him to cum in his pants, leaving a stain behind that acts as solid proof. 

He slumped forward, about to face-plant into your stomach but you stopped him. Heeseung raised his head, gulping at how your eyes darkened a shade. He swore you resembled the Devil himself, with how you were smirking down at him. 

“Don’t think this is over, Heeseung. You haven’t made me cum yet. If you want to be a good boy, you should make me cum first,” you demanded, making his mouth water at the thought of being able to taste you. 

“Please, w-wanna make you cum,” he begged, and who were you to deny him of what he wants? 

With one hand still holding onto the leash, you used your free hand to pull your shorts and soaked panties down, grinning at how Heeseung couldn’t look away from the free show you were giving him. He looked at you, impatient and when he was granted permission, he moved forward on his knees. You slung your right leg over his shoulder, hand now loosely resting in his hair. 

Your head tipped backward when Heeseung buried his face in your leaking, pulsating cunt. His tongue darts out, alternating between kitten-licks and slow, fat stripes along your puffy folds, giving you whiplash. Tremors ran through your body at how the tip of his nose pressed against your clit, eliciting breathless moans from you. 

“F-Fuck, that’s it. Such a good boy, aren’t you?” You breathed out, looking down, audibly groaning at how Heeseung was looking at you with his face buried between your legs. He looked like he had entered Heaven, with how his eyes rolled to the back of his head as you leaked onto his greedy tongue. 

Lewd sounds of slurping and both of your moans echoed amongst the four walls of your room. Your legs buckled at a particular harsh suck to your bud, making you bent forward as you cried out in pure pleasure. You cum with a vice-like grip on Heeseung’s hair, tugging on it like it was your final lifeline. You nearly collapsed to the ground, if he didn’t steadied you with his hands gripping your thighs. 

Heeseung moved his face away, revealing him drenched with your slick. His lips glistened underneath the ceiling light and the tip of his nose shone. He licks his lips, moaning at the sweet, intoxicating taste of you on his tongue. 

“Fuck, you taste amazing as always,” he murmured. 

Rolling your eyes, you moved on shaking legs to untie the rope, letting it fall to the ground. You yelped when your world spun as you landed on your bed, with Heeseung hovering over you, the red rope now held in his hand. 

“It’s your turn now, darling. Don’t think I’m going easy on you,” he coos, and you knew you’re in for a long, long night…

tag list: @chuhees, @byshens, @hoonstqr, @doucious, @emisluvr, @riqomi, @onlyywwon, @jjung-v, @jun2ki, @rikisoup, @jaylaxies

[immaqulate]

i would've waited | c.s

— bf! chris sturniolo x gf fem! reader

— warnings: angst, infidelity (implied, dont do this), emotional confrontation, heartbreak, swearing, unresolved feelings

Chris always believed the distance was the problem. Until he learns it never really was.

requested by moot! | word count: 671

You never called it a breakup.

You used words like space and time and we’ll figure it out. Said the long distance would be too much—school, work, time zones. You told him, “It’s just better this way for now,” and Chris, who loved you more than logic or pride, didn’t argue. He just held you one last time in the terminal and said, “Okay.”

That was six months ago.

Six months of silence. Six months of wondering what the hell he did wrong. Of half-written texts, restless nights, and trying not to check your socials.

But then Matt sent him the screenshot.

“wait… isn’t this her?”

Instagram post.

You. Sitting on some guy’s lap. His hands on your thighs. Your smile realer than the one you ever gave in that last FaceTime.

And Chris couldn’t breathe. He stared at the photo like it was proof of a crime—because to him, it was.

You didn’t leave because of the distance, you left because someone else was already close.

-

Chris doesn’t text... Doesn’t call. He books a flight. He needed answers. He needs you to say it to his face.

You open the door in the same hoodie he left with you last winter.

His, still. Yours, now. That makes something in his stomach twist.

“Chris?” you ask, blinking like he’s a ghost.

“No,” he says, stepping inside, “you don’t get to look surprised.”

Your jaw tightens. “You can’t just show up—”

“Actually, I can,” he snaps. “I fucking did. Because I needed to know. Needed to see if it was true.”

Your face pales.

“You left me. You said it was too hard, too complicated.” His voice cracks, just slightly. “You said we needed time.”

“I meant it.”

“Did you?” he asks, stepping closer. “Because six months ago, I watched you cry in my arms about goodbyes. You kissed me like I was your forever. You swore there was no one else.”

“There wasn’t.”

“Oh, come on,” Chris says, bitter. “He didn’t just appear out of nowhere. You don’t end up on someone’s lap like that overnight.”

You don’t answer. And your silence is the loudest thing in the room.

Chris scoffs. He backs away like touching you might burn him now. “So what, huh? Did you line him up before or after you kissed me goodbye at the airport?”

You flinch.

“I just—” you start, voice cracking, “I didn’t mean for it to happen like this.”

“Then how the fuck did you mean for it to happen?”

“I didn’t think we’d make it,” you whisper. “The long distance, the missed calls, the time apart—I thought it would kill us slowly. And I—I didn’t want to resent you. I didn’t want you to hate me if I started to fade.”

“So you jumped into someone else’s arms before I even had the chance to prove you wrong?”

You blink rapidly. “I didn’t cheat.”

Chris laughs humorlessly. “You think that makes it better? That you waited until after to betray me?”

Your lip trembles, but you lift your chin anyway. “You don’t know what it was like. Being here. Feeling alone. Missing someone who was only ever half-present—”

“I would’ve waited,” he says quietly, voice breaking. “God, I would’ve waited forever if you asked.”

And for a second, your face shatters.

Like maybe that was the part you were too scared to believe. That you were loved that deeply.

“Chris,” you whisper, stepping toward him, “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“But you did.” His eyes are glassy. “You hurt me worse than anyone ever has. Because I never thought it would be you.”

He doesn’t yell. Doesn’t slam doors or curse your name.

Instead, he steps backward. And it’s so much worse.

Because Chris Sturniolo has always loved you softly. And now he’s walking away quietly.

That’s how you know it’s over.

“I hope he was worth it,” Chris says, turning around. “Because I would’ve crossed every mile for you.”

He walks out the door.

And this time, he doesn’t look back.

im actually devastated..

click here to be added to my taglist and here for masterlist <3

taglist 1 ✎ @chrisissobabygirl @sturnzwrld @strnilolover @sweetshuga @mattslilies @sirensdollesque @slxtarchive @heartsonlyforchris @sturns-mermaid @bluessturniolo @pasteldreams @endereies @solarsturniolo @drewswife @conspiracy-ash @courta13 @ivytthew @blushsturns @surprisecurlyfriess @mazzystarrysky @eclipsturns @riasturns @mattsgirl4ever @elisesturnz @ribbonlovergirl @chrisslut04 @pair-of-pantaloons @obxfansstuff @poppetbaby02 @bgfshai @kalel2005 @sturniszn @leahfaith @rafespuppyy

[s0ull3ss-p3rs0n]

Okay so period ended last friday and I just forgot to note it down cuz I didn't have enough food for my brain to function because food trust issues kicked in again.

So anyways:

-Fridge broke down, they got it fixed, the stuff in the freezer tastes questionable now which makes me struggle at having breakfast

-Somehow managed to get a period blood stain on my bedsheets, it has never happened before

-Ate the worst pudding of my life and got so traumatised I spent an all-nighter reading Fitzloved smut. Do not ask why the everloving fuck that was my choice of distraction but I might be addicted.

-Used my debit card for the first time to pay for groceries, so basically had almost started crying at the checkout trying to figure out how the hell anything works and the cashier struggled to figure out how to instruct me, some guy in the line offered to pay for me because he thought I didn't have money, which gave me slight hope for humanity, the cashier finally figured out that I needed to know which way around the card should be inserted into the card reading machine or whatever and I managed to put in the right code on first try despite my brain going absolutely haywire.

-Also then I proceeded to find two empty beer cans in the same building the store was in and went to exchange them for money and talked to the cashier about how people don't realise they can literally get some money back by just returning some cans into some machine thing. And now I have a third empty beer can in my kitchen because I found a third one in front of my apartment complex

I didn't feel period pains this time because they all got projected to Rox <3

[ven0moir]

hey how do u feel abt noah saying that people should not get their hopes up for season 5 of stranger things? he didn’t specifically say anything abt it being byler related but idk - a lot of fans think of byler when they think of will and so im worried he was trying to like subtlety tell byler shippers to not get their hopes up

hi anon!

IF he was referring to bylers in that sentence, then this is what I'd assume; I think he was speaking generally. the most beloved byler theories ( flickergate, loverslake, wallgate, heroesgate, ud kiss, etc ) do not fit with the tone of the show, so they're very beloved, but noah himself once said that the fans are very creative ... yet wrong about everything.

that's why I do not even attempt to make "theories" about how Byler's kiss will happen or entertain that idea, its just wasted creativity bc they don't WANT you to know. Prediction theories will likely be wrong unless the Duffers WANT you piecing things together ( like how they said that they left enough clues IN VOLUME 2 for someone to piece together why the UD is frozen the day Will went missing. They wouldn't have said that IMO if they didn't want to encourage fans to figure it out. Otherwise it's sort of wasting your fan's time for no good reason ..? )

IF byler's endgame, chances are some of their storyline ( and Will's arc ) won't be satisfying to some of them ( *cough cough* I think you might know exactly what I'm talking about ) bc from everything they've said so far they ARE departing from this 'hopeless, martyr Will who suffers in silence and waits for Mike' vision that the fandom expects for him when it comes to his feelings for Mike. ( I have a friend who believes the 'choice' is mike's and mike's alone and Will is important but in his love life, he gets 0 say like let's be so fr here for a second. One thing I think Milevens are right about, that Bylers refuse to accept is that Will let go of his idea of being with Mike romantically in that van, and any hope he had left after that faded when Mike gave that speech to El and essentially locked them in as endgame in HIS eyes lmao )

and I personally would rather not have byler endgame than them literally removing the power of CHOICE from the character named Will ( power of CHOICE/Free Will/Will power ) in the season that is his coming of age and that has centered his sexuality and feelings for Mike so much.

That sounds like a genuine snooze fest

like GIVE ME THE SUPERNATURAL AS A REFLECTION OF HOW THEY START OFF S5. GIVE ME FULL ON QUEER HORROR

BUT I'LL BE RIDING THAT WAVE BABY I JUST KNOW I WILL PERSONALLY LOVE IT AND BE CHEERING WILL AND THE DUFFERS ON FOR THAT

I'm pretty sure some of this expectation of 'martyr Will' comes from some confusion over S4 El's arc being projected onto him, ( and that's totally fine! honestly I'm still understanding stuff myself but damn some people around here need to rewatch the show and set aside their fanon version of Byler for a second ) but that's why the most common version of Byler endgame that Byler fans are expecting/hoping for ( and the GA doesn't buy, mind you ) is basically a rewritten version of S4 Mileven.

"Leave the station, Nina. Don't keep waiting for a lover that won't return."

She also resisted Henry's influence and tried to reach him despite everything he's done--much like how she reached Billy in S3. She's been coded as an angel, a Jesus figure, El literally means God, etc. SHE'S MY DAUGHTER I LOVE HER SM I'm scared for her ending the most omfg

I have the awful feeling she'll experience a metaphorical death ( like, staying in the UD and transforming it as the gatekeeper I SO HOPE IM WRONG PLEASE I HOPE THIS IS DUE TO MY LACK OF UNDERSTANDING STILL and not bc they will really do that to her hhh )

Will? imo Will's being set up to go batshit unhinged and reckless and careless and fucking up as he figures himself out and tbh so far, everything they've said falls in line nicely with what I was HOPING for.

thank GOODNESS

And whereas I do not believe for ONE second the Duffers are perfect ( thank god, perfection is so boring and artificial ) I AM choosing to trust they're choosing to be brave and genuinely love their show. The fact people on both sides will be pissed/triggered due to some of their writing choices I think will just be an unfortunate consequence. Sometimes we forget these guys are not rocket scientists and at the end of the day, they're DnD nerds who love their play. If you're not having fun analyzing, chances are you're not approaching it the right way since both DnD and the show are about community and connection. It's inherently what makes them both fun.

I already went through my "acceptance arc" where I internalized that I do not write this show and have 0 say in its outcome. I definitely recommend others do the same and be prepared for whatever happens bc we've put a lot of emotional investment into the show, and that's okay, we're in this together, but we gotta make sure we're prioritizing our mental well-being and I do worry about some Bylers in the tag that I do not think ... should be watching this show ... ( especially after the reactions I saw during that Bychance / Byler "Civil War" .... yikes )

but yeah let me know if any of this makes sense / share your thoughts!!! they'd be cool to know <3

[crowborn666-writes]

Date Gone Wrong... Or Right?

(Omg I finally finished this! Used google translate for the French, which is given at the end of the paragraphs. Please do not hunt me down with pitchforks if the translation is wrong 😭Google didn’t like defining between masculine or feminine terms and it was difficult to figure it out UGH)

Rook Hunt x F!Reader

Genre: Fluff, Comfort, Romantic

Summary: Your (unnamed) date has stood you up. Your date night is practically ruined! Or is it?

Tag list: @chloemari-e

~~~~~~

You stood there in the meeting spot for what felt like an hour, perhaps it was an hour. When it finally hits you that your date isn’t coming, your bottom lip quivers. You quickly nip at it to try and force it to stop, swallowing around the growing bubble in your throat. Your breaths threaten to shake out of you, and you try to blink the sting away from your eyes as you lift your chin a bit.

You didn’t need to cry right now, not in public, not over someone who couldn’t be bothered to get in touch with you.

You glance down at your phone, not a notification in sight, and frown as the minute ticks into the next. Your shoulders shake, almost breaking apart before you turn at a gentle touch on your arm.

You’re surprised to find Rook standing next to you, concern shining in his eyes. “Ma chèri, what is wrong? You’re too dressed up to be alone like this!”

You try to offer a smile, but it doesn’t reach your eyes one bit. “Exactly.”

Rook breathes out a soft sound of understanding, instantly opening his arms for you to fall into. You bury yourself against his chest for a moment, shaking as the tears start falling. His arms wrap around you, warm and secure.

“Ne vous inquiétez pas si personne ne, ma chèri.” His voice is quiet as he speaks, continuing to grumble in French, presumably in irritation over your flaky date. (*Don’t fret over that no one, my dear.)

Rook gently lifts your head, cooing softly at your tears as he reaches into his pocket for a handkerchief. You sniffle a bit, your eyes fluttering shut as he delicately dabs your tears away.

“Got all dressed up for nothing.” You murmur, blinking your eyes back open in surprise when Rook takes your hand.

“Non, non! There’s no sense in letting your efforts and beauty go to waste tonight!” He smiles brightly, making your chest fill with warmth, “Allow me to take over, ma chèri. I’ll make you forget all about that no one!”

He offers you his arm, and perhaps with a bit too much excitement, you happily loop your arm with his and let him pull you away from the street curb.

“What were your original plans, mon amour?” He asks, his fingers intertwining with yours.

“Well, we originally were going to have dinner at this fancy restaurant after a walk in the park nearby, but the reservation was under their name, so I doubt that’s an option.” You explain, tone saddened. Rook hums, thinking for a moment before his eyes light up.

“As romantic as a fancy dinner is, I have a better idea.”

With a grin so infectious you can’t help but mirror it, he pulls you along past the park. You both walk a few blocks before you start to ask him where he’s taking you, and then you turn the corner.

Somehow you missed it, but the street he leads you into is lit up like it wanted to turn night into a pink-skied day. Stalls lined the street, filled with warm food, sweets, and all sorts of items that would make excellent gifts for all sorts of occasions.

“Where are we?” You asked, mouth agape as your wide eyes scanned the street from one side to the next.

“I have no idea!” Rook chirped, and your head whirled around to face him and his big, stupid grin. “I saw it before I met up with you, ma lumière. Now let’s explore!”

Rook pulled you along to various stalls, purchasing and trying any foods you both found interesting. In no time at all, you were laughing and excitedly tugging Rook to the next brightly-lit thing that caught your attention.

As the night wore on, and Rook began guiding you back home, a part of you wondered if this date meant anything, or if he had merely done it to lift your spirits. Just as you got the courage to ask, you turn to find a necklace dangling in front of your nose. With a soft sound you took it from him, looking over the design. It was a silver-colored key with a violet gem in the bow of the key.

“I got that just before we left.” Rook murmurs, pulling your gaze up to his face, “It’s yours regardless, but I was hoping it could unlock your heart to me, mon amour.”

Rook’s eyes are soft, warm even as he presses a gentlemanly kiss to your knuckles. Words fail you completely as your heart gushes with relief, love, warmth, and a million other things. It’s enough to drive you forward, your hands clasped with his as you lean in to kiss him.

His surprise is only momentary, his lips soft and tasting faintly like the foods you both ate earlier, but the smile he puts into the kiss is wide. His hands slip from yours, taking the necklace and expertly latching it around your neck, and then his hands rest on your cheeks as you both part.

His voice is a whisper when he speaks, words only meant for the two of you. “Personne ne te fera plus de mal avec moi à tes côtés.” (*No one will hurt you again with me around.)

And while you have no idea what he just said, you can’t help but feel secure as he presses another kiss to your lips.

[raginggeeksworld]

13 and 2

Your husband is bullying me again. With bucky as husband and john getting bullied because why not. Also could u make reader call bucky, james or jamie. It is freaking cute.

Hope u have a nice day cutie

Sorry for the delay, I got caught up between switching summer jobs and moving and my laptop also died for a week, so um yeah, here ya go!

These are a few moments where John gets bullied/made fun of etc. Timeline is nonexistent, though the first scene is from TFATWS, while the rest is mainly set after *Thunderbolts

John Walker Hate Club

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x wife!reader

Domestic fluff, John Walker hate kinda

Word Count: 1.4k? (Idk lost count)

Notes: Got a bit too John centered at the end, but oh well :) Not liking this so much, but I hope the jokes weren't too cringe-y, enjoy!

The ride was silent. Y/N sat between Bucky and Sam on the back of the truck, not even trying to pretend she wasn't pissed off.

John Walker, the new Captain America, cocky piece of shit that he is, kept flirting -or rather tried to- with Y/N, much to her annoyment.

She should've felt at least a little flattered, but it was harder and harder to not be annoyed when the pick up lines slowly became more and more daring and... suggestive.

But that silence was short lived when John started talking, his partner chiming in here and there. Bucky and Y/N stayed silent of course, knowing if they spoke the conversation wouldn't be civil anymore. At least Sam was able to keep his cool, a skill they had yet to aquire.

"James?" Y/N asked so quietly only Bucky was able to hear her, thanks to the super-serum.

Bucky turned to her with a softer gaze and Y/N nodded towards his vibranium hand that was curling into a fist and loosening again and again.

"Is it acting up?" Bucky just nodded, squeezing his hand into a fist again.

"Just a little stiff. Phantom pain again," Bucky reassured her and she nodded.

Then John turned to Y/N, who just blinked back at him before turning her attention back to Bucky. "Seriously? You're not even gonna say anything?"

"With the way you talked our ears off an hour ago I would've thought you like to run your mouth," Lemar said with a light chuckle.

She didn't answer. And it could've been left at that, but then John opened his mouth.

"If you ask me, I know another way you could run your mouth, sweetheart," John winked back at her. Bucky's gaze turned into a murderous glare.

"Hm, I've got you speechless huh?" John smiled. Y/N locked eyes with him for a second before answering, her face unreadable.

"Every breath you take is a stunning endorsement for abortion." John's smile immediately fell.

"Woah, Y/N-" Sam started but Y/N wasn't done.

"Do you feel no shame for using the same amount of oxygen as an intelligent person?" Y/N asked with a deadpan look, staring back at him as if actually expecting an answer.

John sat there in silence while Sam quickly started up a conversation with Lemar. All of a sudden Bucky joined in too.

"And what was your name?" He asked Lemar and Y/N leaned back in her seat, satisfied, when John looked away from her, visibly awkward.

"Battlestar," Lemar answered with confidence. Y/N raised a brow at the name.

"Battlestar?" Bucky asked sarcastically, but Lemar just nodded proudly. There was silence for a few seconds before Bucky and Y/N yelled at the same time.

"Stop the car!"

---------------

The mission went surprisingly easy. There was no extreme weather, their mood was shockingly good, but that was probably due to the fact that the boys stayed back at the Watchtower.

Except John. That bummed the mood a little, but oh well.

The church they had to get inside seemed just as abandoned on the inside as on the outside, straight out of a horror movie. Although the still intact glass windows added a little beauty to it in the moonlight.

"Hey, Y/N!" Yelena called out, pointing to one of the figures on a cobweb covered painting. "He shall make a fine groom for thee!"

"Huh," Y/N looked around in thought, the mission now secondary to their teasing game.

"John! Thou'st mother is out for a stroll I see!" She said with a mocking posh accent, pointing to the image of a cow.

"Just shut up you two! We could've been done 10 minutes ago if you stopped being children," John said with a frustrated sigh, walking ahead of them.

"Oh heavens!" Y/N yelled in mock fear, making John turn around in alarm, hand on his gun. "Lay thine eyes on the field in which I grow my fucks! Thou shall see it is barren!" She pointed to the empty space at the altar.

"Ha-ha, very funny. I hope you enjoy being immature," John told them sternly, and Yelena mocked him silently.

"If I was immature I'd make dick jokes, but that's your specialty, and I'm not going to rob you of your only happiness in life," Y/N smiled back at him before joining Yelena at the back entrance.

------------------

>New message in THUNDERBOLTS<

Walker: for once i woke up early and already got done everything i planned for the day, wow, i feel immortal!

Y/N: 04-07-2030

Walker: what

Walker: Y/N what!

Bucky: 10 pm

Walker: what does this mean?!

Bob: what is happening?

Yelena: the newlyweds r planning to kill John

Bob: oh okay

John: DOING WHAT

--------------------

>New message in THUNDERBOLTS<

Walker: i think im bi

Yelena: Which one

Walker: which what

Yelena: bilingual, bisexual, bipolar?

Bucky: I know, a bitch

>Y/N liked the message<

>Ava liked the message<

>Yelena liked the message<

Walker: i sent that as a joke but now i feel offended

Bucky: Good, it means you still have a long recovery ahead

Y/N: And ur a bitch!

Walker: i liked the bucky who didnt know how to use a phone

Y/N: I like every version of my Jamie

Walker: Ew

Y/N: Just say you're jealous of our healthy marriage

Walker: i hate you all

Bucky: we hate you too

>Y/N, Yelena, Ava, Bob liked the message<

>John left the chat<

-----------------------

The common room was finally silent in what felt like an eternity. Alexei dozed off on the sofa, the TV now tuned on a reality show Yelena was showing Bob. Ava was probably in her room, as usual.

It was one of the rare moments where the place felt more like a home, rather than just a place where coworkers lived. That moment only applied to the common room. The kitchen was another case.

Bucky was in the kitchen, making dinner for himself and his wife, making up for the lost time in the past few weeks. It also didn't hurt that his sweetness usually resulted in him being brought to bed by his wife, not that he would ever complain about that.

But John was there.

In the kitchen. Sitting next to Y/N. Talking to her about another identity crisis. He just slided into the kitchen, right when she almost yanked Bucky down on herself.

John looked visibly troubled, a sight that was rare, but not uncommon. "And I've been trying. I realize I've made mistakes, but all of us here did. We've been a team for almost two years now, and you guys still bully me like a dickhead! I feel like nobody here likes me," he said leaning back in his chair.

"You intuition is top notch," Bucky spoke and Y/N had to take a sip of her drink to hide her smile.

"See? Your husband is bullying me again!" John turned to Y/N with an offended look.

"James haven't done anything wrong! Plus, you're a grown ass man, deal with it," Y/N rolled her eyes and instead focused on the muscles moving in her husband's back under his compression shirt. Or at least tried to, but John couldn't shut up.

"This is exactly what I'm talking about! I'm being targeted!" He complained.

"Exceptional observation skills! With an eye like that you could be the next american eagle," Y/N muttered into her drink and Bucky let out a quiet chuckle, disguising it with the clattering utensils.

"Remind me to never go to you with my problems ever again," John grumbled as he got up to leave the kitchen.

"We didn't ask you this time either," Bucky said, but John flipped him off as he exited the room.

And although all of them bullied John -Bucky worse than anyone else- the married couple was still the first people John could count on when his days got darker.

Not intentionally, but it was still Bucky who understood how much effort and hard work it took to put your past behind you, to accept the things you've done and still decide to change despite what the world told you.

It was still Y/N, caring and sarcastic Y/N, who made sure to make fun of him every chance she got, she was still the only person besides Bucky who could understand his pain, without trying to fix his problems for him.

Yes, John was jealous of their marriage, how easy it seemed, how healthy it was. But he also saw the hard days, the dark times where even he didn't want to tease their arguments, because he saw how much effort it took to maintain their marriage.

And maybe that was the turning point for him. That his wife didn't leave him because it was easy. She left because he made it easy for her, because he gave up the effort, because he let himself drown instead of asking for help, like Bucky and Y/N did with each other.

The bullying continued. Sometimes worse than ever before, mainly because Y/N decided to teach Bucky some new phrases and insults, which resulted in some very colorful yelling matches.

But despite the constant "hatred" shown towards John, being with this team of misfits still made him feel at home.

Especially Bucky and Y/N, who Bob and Yelena started to call 'Mom' and 'Dad' -as a joke of course.

[batfambrainrotbeloved]

Went to sleep, dreamt of the most gut wretching batfam angst I woke up in literal tears- now I must accept this idea has to die with me because writing it would leave me dehydrated and devestated jesus christ-

I need to yap to process wtf the horrors but read more at your own risk-

The idea started simple enough, universe shenanigans another batman appears in the watch tower (with convinently the entire batfam there, dont ask why, doesnt matter)

This Batman basically says "Hey theres a universe virus host from my dimension I thought I destroyed- its now here and we gotta kill it"

JL & Other bats are ofc wary as this Batman begans demanding all these precautions and despite OG Batman's insistance- refuses to disclose anything else. Any attempt of martian mind tricks or golden lassos is thwarted so they just have to go along with it

This part of the dream gets fuzzy but then it was a time skip to this like space universe storm- kinda like the ITSV reactor scene where everything is floaty and suspended but still movible.

This Batman takes the tech gun thingy he had this universe build and aims it- only for POV shift a figure begin to form in the storm.

Batclan tries to interfere, wanting to understand wtf is going on- but is stopped by a voice suddenly cutting through the chaos

"Oh my boy..."

Its Bruce voice-

The Batman's gun clatters to the ground, they scream about this being a cruel trick, to themselves? To it? Unclear. They scramble for the gun but their hands are shaking too much

Bruce emerges but its- so bad. He looks like a half abstracted ADC character- half his face and body seeming to fracture and distort as if hes moments from falling apart at the seams.

Then faster than they can react- Bruce moves and is suddenly looming over The Batman. But instead of looking like a threat- he just looks sad.

The glitching hands wrap around The Batmans head and slowly lift off the cowl to reveal to everyone-

Its Dick.

Older, and bright blue eyes already spilling with tears "Its not you," repeting over and over.

But seems he realizes this IS his Bruce- at least enough of him- and they embrace. Dick begins rejoycing that he was wrong- that he wasnt too late- that they can fix this. But Bruce just looks sad again and explains he has time- but that its running out fast.

And the part that fucking killed me- and I curse my vivid dreams is Dick starts just SOBBING- and spilling every little thing.

He says he and Kori finally got married, and that shes pregnant. That Jason finally got his degree and wore a stupid pink bowtie because Lian picked it out for him.

Tim moved out of the stupid houseboat and was planning to take a summer backpacking with Cass-

Steph developed her own clothing line and was in the new york times last week-

The Thomas's were cured, that Duke went home but still visits just about every day-

And that Damian got a gallery in Chicago- that the main display is a painting of Bruce, before they lost him (the exact words- I was dying)

Bruce is crying now, Background Batfam as well- so am I to the point I started becoming more aware and the dream was slipping which was NOT HELPING

Because self aware lucid ass meant Bruce started crying harder saying he wished Dick hadnt taken the burden of the cowl- and Dick says some stupid shit about its not a burden its a path and one he cant stand walking without his dad-

"Dick?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you." And Bruce discorperates as the virusy storm cloud self implodes and leaves Dick kneeling on a chunk of rubble.

Oh no- but thats not the end- because Dick then keels over and SCREAM sobs for his dad- while the rest of Batfam and JL try to contain the mess and reenter the tower

Hes inconsolable- im half awake, and ending the cream de la resistance- Is OG Batman approches and for once (to my dismay) gains emotional competency

Goes "Im not your dad- but I am a dad, and if you'd let me, id like to hug you kiddo-"

Dick accepts, and practically collapses into his grip still wailing- and then finally, mercy kicks in, and I wake up

Now this was 1000x more emotionally devestating considering I had a VIVID animation style reel of this whole ass thing- and even now writing this I cannot do it justice because jesus christ I have no words to come close to this madness.

Anyways rant over- im going back to sleep- if I happen to dream anymore of this- might become an all nighter- to be determined

[sydwritess]

The Life of Racing Pt. 9

Lando Norris x fem!reader

Summary: through it all, the racing, the media, the meetings. What matters to Lando the most is you. His home life is just as important as track life. Some days, he doesn't balance it easily. But through it all, the both of you try. Going through some challenges, but always coming out together, hand in hand again.

Second Person POV

Notes: my first F1 series! Requests are open!

01 02 03 04 05 06 07 08 09 10 11 12 13

It was Friday, and the first day of the Silverstone race was here. Lando and Oscar were rushing around the media, trying to get to all of them before the race started.

Once again, you were off to the side, taking down notes from both of the drivers. Media flew by quickly, and you, Lando, and Oscar were walking back to the garage.

You slowly walk up to the garage, seeing Zak and Gerard talking together, but you turn the other way, heading towards the computers to watch the race.

"What do you think their talking about?" Oscar asks Lando. They were standing a bit away from you, but still in hearing range.

"I don't know. I know he pissed Y/n off yesterday." Lando said, crossing his arms. You just continue to log into the computer, doing your work.

"Really?"

"Oh yeah. Went on this whole spree about how one little thing on the car could possibly end my life out there. I don't know." Lando says defeated.

"Well, at least she cares."

"Yeah, I know."

They both slowly start to walk over to you, sitting down at the same station with you.

"You boys ready for the race?" Zak asks, standing between Lando and Oscar at the end of the table.

"Ready as ever." Lando beams.

"Yeah." Oscar smiles.

"You get into the system okay, kid?" Zak asks, looking past Lando at you.

"Yeah, I'm all set." You say, your eyes still on the screen.

Zak twitches his neck over to the side, signaling for the boys to leave. They rush off across the garage, and Zak walks over to sit next to you.

"Lando's going to be just fine. I talked to G this morning and ran some tests myself. He did fix everything you told him to." Zak said.

You left out a small laugh. "Yeah, I figured."

"But..." He says.

"I don't know. What if he loses? I mean, he's been so excited about his home race... what if losing sends him off the edge?"

"He'll be okay. Homes races are important, yes. But this isn't his first loss. He'll be back up in no time after this race." He says gently. You nod your head, and he puts a hand on your back before walking off.

Soon after, the announcements went off, signaling it was time to get ready for the race. Both McLaren boys got suited up.

"You'll do great, trust me." You say, hugging Lando.

"God I hope so." He breathes out.

"You will. Just don't get to worked up or be nervous. This isn't the final yet. And we don't need another episode of last time." You say softly.

"Thank you." He says, smiling. You break the hug. He gets into the car, the team helping him with his helmet, and then he drives off to the starting point.

You walk back to the computer stations, sitting down in your spot, waiting for the race to start.

Once all of the drivers got to their spots, the Red lights went off. Lando started in first.

He made his way around the track quickly, fighting for first place. He was in the lead for a while until Lewis started climbing his way up.

He passed Oscar and Charles and was now on lando's tail. But Lando kept steady. You were writing down notes lap by lap on the situation.

There were around fifteen laps left. Lewis was now in first place. Lando was right behind him but couldn't get the right momentum to slip past him.

They went through the laps quickly. Lewis is still in first. Lando climbed to first but quickly fell back into second again and finally crossed the finish line.

He made his lap quickly before pulling the car over.

Nobody went over to him. He got out of the car, furious, taking his helmet off and throwing it on the seat. His eyes went straight over to Gerard and Zak.

"I thought you fucking fixed the DRS?" Lando said angrily.

"I did. A whole new one." Gerard said. You watched the scene from the computer station, in full view of everything.

"Well, you gave me a shit one is what happened! Y/n fucking told you to fix it, but because you don't like her, you put it on me!" Landos voice rose.

"I gave you a new DRS, though, didn't I?" Gerard said. His voice was way too calm.

"Lando, why don't we take a minute. We'll get this situated." Zak said. He walked over to Lando and took him into the back of the garage.

You focused back on your screen. You didn't go check on him. You kind of knew not to. You sat back in your seat, looking over all of the notes he took.

"Look, it's not my fault he can't drive for shit." Gerard said, trying to be quiet. Your ears perked up at the talking behind you.

"I know. Like who gives a shit what his girl says. She's just another fucking reporter. That's all." Another engineer says.

"I know. It's also your not fault he's slow to. Like how is that on us." A third one piped in.

"He shouldn't even be here. He's not made for F1. Hell, he's not even made for racing. He's fucking stupid." Gerard says. That made your stomach turn.

You turn around in your chair to see the three guys laughing like they were at a comedy show. You walk up to them, giving them a sharp look.

"You think because Lando's not here, you can talk shit?" You ask.

"What are you going to do, princess?" Gerard says.

"What? Just because Lando's shit, you have to go stick up for him now?" Another engineer says.

"You're probably faking it with him. Aren't you?" Gerard says.

You didn't overthink it. You didn't second guess yourself.

You let your fist collide with his face hard.

"What the fuck!" Gerard screams, holding his bloody nose.

You kick him in the stomach, sending him down to the ground. People start circling around you and the outside of the garage, looking at the scene.

You jump on top of him, repeatedly punching him in the face.

"You need to call someone!" One of the engineers yelled to another.

"You can't sit there and talk shit like a bitch when even fucking fight back!" You yelled.

You took a few hits yourself, but they weren't strong.

Yelling and screaming filled your ears. You got lost in a trance until you feel someone's arms wrap around your waist. You look back to see Lewis dragging you off of Gerard.

"Let me go!" You yell.

"You need to stop, Y/n. You are never like this." Lewis says, holding your arms behind your back.

Just then, Lando, Zak, and Oscar barge into the garage. Their eyes widened, faces shocked.

Gerard sat there screaming, his face bloody. Many workers piled around him, grabbing multiple towels for him.

"What the hell?" Zak asked. "Why would you do this?"

"He needs to learn to not shit talk Lando anymore!" You screamed. Your breath was unsteady, the room went quiet.

"As soon as you fucking left he start shit talking. Saying he's a bad driver, and he doesn't deserve to fucking be here!" You yell.

"Someone needed to stop him and we all know it wasn't going to be you." You say, quietly, looking at Zak

"Shit. Fuck, okay you." Zak points at you. "In my office. And not alone either." He says, looking at Lewis.

"Let's go." Lewis says. You and him walk over to the door. But before you walked out, you turned around.

"Your fucking pathetic if you think your pulling this shit again." You say, pointing at Gerard. He looked at you scared.

"Let's go." Lewis said firmly. He lightly held your arm as you made your way to Zak's office.

He opened the door, and the two of you walked in, sitting quietly as you waited.

"What happened? Why'd you do this?" Lewis asked quietly, putting his hand gently on top of yours.

Your eyes started to water quickly. "He was shit talking Lando again."

"That's it?"

"Well what the fuck else do you want me to say? They called him stupid. They said I deserve someone better. They said he doesn't deserve to be at F1. They can't say shit like that." You say, your tears falling slowly.

"I know it's hard. I remember when I switched teams, that's all people did. But you can't resolve it like this." He said slowly.

"But he's been doing it forever! And- and Lando doesn't stick up for himself because he's nervous too. And then... then they say shit about that. About how I always have to speak up for him. They call him a child for it."

"But..."

"But he's fucking not!"

"Alright, alright." He says, trying to calm you down. Just then, the office door opens. You don't even bother looking back to see who it was.

Zak walked over to his side of the desk, handing you some ice for your hand. And then Lando sat down next to you.

"So..." Zak said, clasping his hands together on his desk. "What happened?"

"I'm not telling this story again." You scoff, rolling your eyes. Zak gave you a deep look.

"He's a shit talking bitch. That's what the fuck happened. He thinks he can go around talking shit about people and get away with it." You say.

Zak looks at you before slowly looking over at Lewis.

"I guess Gerard was talking bad about Lando... saying that he shouldn't be at F1." Lewis says, looking across you, to Lando.

"And some other stuff. And she just... lost it. I guess it's been happening for a while now." He says. Your heart beat faster just at the thought of everything.

Lando looks at you surprised.

"This... is going to be a long process for everything." Zak said.

"The fuck is that supposed to mean?" You ask.

"Well, now. Now we have to fill out paper work, medical paperwork for both of you. And, a bunch of other stuff." He said. You slouched down in your chair more.

"And... after your first hit. You didn't think to stop?" Zak asked, looking up at you from his stack of papers.

"You really think that I would be thinking during that?" You ask.

"You're lucky you're not getting fired." He snaps.

The room goes silent.

"You're not getting fired. But you'll be staying with someone. Mostly like me. No one is aloud to let you out of your sight, for let's say." He says, looking down at the papers. "Two weeks."

"And what if I have to use the bathroom? Cause I sure as hell know that I will quit this goddamn job if some grown ass man comes into the bathroom with me.

"Well, luckily at all of our circuits, none of the bathrooms have windows, so I'll stand outside the door." He says.

He gathers his paperwork and stands up, along with Lewis.

"We'll let you two have a moment." Zak says, slightly smiling before him and Lewis leave the room.

You and Lando sit in silence. He has one arm leaned against the armrest of the chair, looking at you. You just stare at the wall in front of you.

"You didn't have to do that for me." Lando says, his voice cutting sharply through the silence. You shrug your shoulders lightly.

"Why did you do it? Besides what you told me." He says.

"I don't know." You say, your voice barely above whisper. "I guess I just got mad." You admit.

"Clearly." He says, letting out a slight laugh. Your head snaps over to him, and he stops.

You look down at your hands, gently removing the ice to see your bruised knuckles.

"I'm sorry."

Lando gets out of his chair and crouches down by the side of yours.

"You have nothing to be sorry about. It was a mistake in your life. We all make them."

"Yeah."

He gently grabs your hand, letting you sit there for a moment. Lando let's go of your hand? Looking at you before walking away.

"Are you okay?" Oscar asks, genuinely concerned.

"Yeah, I'm fine." You nod.

Lando comes back shortly after with a damp rag, handing it to you.

"Thanks." You mumble. You turn on your heel to walk around the corner to the mirror they had on the wall.

"Where are you going?" Zak asked.

"I'm right here dude."

"I'm not your 'dude' I'm your boss Y/n." He says.

You roll your eyes slightly and start gently wiping the blood off around your face. You walk back around the corner to the group just as announcements go off, telling everybody it was almost time for FP2.

You, Lando, and Zak all walk to Lando's car as he gets ready for the race again.

"Don't beat anyone up again for me." He smirks, pulling you in for a hug. You wrap your arms around him tightly.

"I won't. I promise." You giggle. You both let go of each other, and he gets in his car.

He follows the guys' signals before going out of the garage, getting into the second grid start spot.

You and Zak walk over to the computer station and sit at a couple of spots, watching the screen.

"Are you going to take notes?" He asked, looking over at you. His arms crossed.

"Yeah." You say, slowly grabbing your notebook and pen.

"Lando has media after this. I wouldn't recommend going if-"

"I don't care. I just let them talk."

"Your call... not mine." He said.

The race starts soon after. Lewis was in first for a while, staying there. Charles and Lewis fought for first place on and off, while Lando fell behind to seventh.

"This motherfucker did something to my car." Lando said over the radio, as he fell back to eighth. Kimi eventually came into first place, and George in second.

"He didn't do anything to your car, Lando." Zak said. You look over at Zak, giving him a questioning look.

You turn on your stations mic to talk to him.

"Don't focus on Gerard, Lando. You're in eighth now, but you can still get up there." You say, not sure if you say more.

He doesn't say anything after, just silence. You look over at Zak who just shrugs his shoulders.

"Okay. Imagine this. Imagine that if you win, you can rub it Gerards face. Absolutely crush him. When you win, you can see that stupid ass look on his face." You say.

He instantly starts to speed up, your words pushing him further.

He passed by Oscar, climbing his way up the podium. He fell back on a turn but sped up past Charles and Lewis. You heard his car go by you quickly outside of the garage.

You look back at the screen. He makes his way past George and Kimi, claiming first place. Charles quickly made his way behind Lando but stayed behind him.

Lando stayed in first for the rest of the race.

"Nice words." Zak smirked.

"I take pride in them." You say.

Lando flew past the garage, crossing the finish line. The whole garage cheered at the driver.

He made his slow lap around the track and pulled the car over by the garage.

He jumped out of the car, immediately running to you and wrapping his arms around you.

"You did it. I told you, you wouldn't loose." You say.

"I did it for you." He smirks. The team cheered loudly behind you for him, but he stayed with you.

You two walked over to the station and sat down, he took his helmet off and plopped it down on the counter behind him.

"Where's Gerard?" He asks.

"In the medic room... I lied about that." You smile.

"Oh."

"It got you a win right?"

"Yeah, but... I wanted to see his dumbass face again." He says, laughing.

"Are you ready to go do media?" You ask, grabbing your book.

"You're coming?"

"Yeah. Why not?" You ask.

"Just... wondering."

"Listen. I don't give a shit what people say about me." You say. He smiles before getting up with you.

You, him, and Zak all walk over to the media tent. You stood off to the side by Lando, getting your pen ready.

"So Lando, those last couple of laps, you really seemed to push forward. What made you build that confidence to climb up the podium?" The guy asked.

"Well, you know... I had a really great person giving me some good advice." Lando said, smiling widely.

"That's great for you." The reporter says. He asks Lando a couple of more questions and then Lando moves on to the next reporter. You moved with him.

"Lando, we have a couple of... interesting questions." The women asked. Lando nodded, giving her the right of way.

"First of all, I just want to say what an amazing performance you gave out their today." She smiles.

"Thank you. It was a tough one, but we got through it." He says.

"Now, we've had a couple of general questions from the crowd." She starts, getting her cards ready.

"We've l heard about the big fight today between your girlfriend and an engineer. Can you describe that moment?" She asked, an innocent smile plastered on her face. To innocent.

"I- no comment, really." He says.

"What about her? Is she okay?" She asks, emphasizing the 'her' a little to much.

"Well, Y/n, in case you've forgotten her name, is do just fine. And if she wants to talk about the fight, then she will. But I feel it's wrong of me to speak on her behalf for her. She is her own person, so..." He says, trailing off. The reporter didn't say anything else, due to Lando leaving the tent.

"Fucking Christ." He mutters, taking his cap off and fixing his hair.

"Lando... go back in there." You say.

"No, I'm not going in there if all they want to do is talk about you." He says.

"No-"

"Not that you're not a great person to talk about. You- you are. I actually love talking about you, but all they want to do is get the drama. And that's... that's not you." He says, stumbling over his words.

You let out a slight laugh.

"I know what you meant." You say, stepping closer to him.

"Can we please just leave?" He asks.

"Sure." You laugh out. You both go back to the garage, getting all of your things before heading over to the hotel.

©sydwritess

Hey loves! Pt. 9 is here! Comment to be added to the tag list! Requests are open!

Tag list:

@mimisweetz @latay7

@lex2205

[dark-lord-of-awesomeness]

What if in the PPBB universe where Stan is resurrected by Ford. Stan can only start to become more ‘human’ and fix his own soul by eating the emotions of others, and in some cases their whole souls.

Stan is only acting with self preservation right now cause he has nothing else, so after the shock of being alive wears off the kinda Erdrich horror part of him wakes up and he kinda just leaves the Ford’s and goes hunting for very emotional souls. So now the Ford’s have to hunt down Stan across the country in Fiddleford’s old car, like the OG road-trip, except more high stakes because they have to stop Stan from sucking out souls like they’re smoothies from random people.

Maybe Bills also along for the ride as well(he wants the portal built and is gonna pester Ford about it till he stops goofing off) and he makes everything so much more complicated as he eggs on Stan to eat more people.

Wait, wait, wait what if Bill is the Winged Lion/demon and Stan mirrors Laios and eats his soul, aka Bills hat and last dimensional speck. Which gives Stan enough energy to fix the rest of his soul and give him emotions back.

Lets just make this a three way au lol, GF into PPBB into DM.

This got long, but here it is!

Hmm. If we're following along a loose Dungeon Meshi story line (which, let me tell you, ever since i got that first ask I've been rotating the idea of a Dungeon Meshi au except Ford's just doing his regular adventuring, comes across and kills a dragon, pulls the corpse out, revives it for 'knowledge' and gets hit with Stan. Can you imagine if that happened? If Marcille revived Falin and didn't even know she was dead? How Stan could have stayed dead and Ford would have no idea? Anyway), then Ford revives Stan, gets hit with dead brother feelings, drags him home to wash off all the monster blood and put some clothes on him. Stan's.. mostly fine? Sure he's heart is dead and the most he can muster up is a slight ease of tension at seeing Ford and not being dead, but otherwise? he's hungry, thats about it.

Then that night, Stan wakes up, starving and with the need to find food. The meal in his stomach isn't doing anything for him, he needs something more filling. His human form that he got shoved to feels cramped and empty, he's gotta fill it up if he wants to feel like himself again. Phases out of existence, goes off to find something to eat, the Fords surviving by the pure luck of being asleep and thus not emotional enough to catch Stan's uncaring eye.

Good thing Ford stuffed his brother with all kinds of magical alarms! He hunts Stan down when he wakes up, dragging Fiddleford with him, just to find Stan crouching in front of someone bawling their eyes out, chewing something and muttering something under his breath (Stan's still not a giant phase out monster, he needs to improvise). He's fading in and out of Fords eyes, it hurts to look at him, like his human form is covering up something far worse under reality. Stan sees him coming, keeps chewing, only to disappear when Ford tries to grab him.

now its road trip time! Quickly bundle up the person (now confused and telling Ford about all their worst thoughts being real?), get in a car, and chase Stan down, desperately making sure all Stan can do is snack on people and doesn't actually eat a person like Stan was eaten. Bill pops in after a few days, annoyed by this side tracking his portal schemes, tells Ford Stan's soul was so scattered and the entity so freshly dead, Fords spell used it to piece Stan's together. Stan's soul is trying to repair itself with what it has (eldritch soul eating powers), he won't be back to being Stan until he eats enough souls to replace the eldritch bits keeping it together.

So just let his bro eat one, maybe a few hundred people and he'll be back to normal! Easy!

Well Fords not going to to that? He'll just find a way to contain Stan, maybe figure out how to siphon off soul energy from general misery worldwide? He'll figure it out after he captures Stan.

Seeing as that didn't work, Bill tries something else! Which is to get Stan to eat as fast as possible so Ford can stop wasting time on this. Stan, not caring enough about anything still and barely there, shrugs and says sure weird triangle on a plane of existence i wasn't able to interact with before, trying my best here.

Except Ford. Keeps. Interrupting. Him. He can't eat like this, not because he cares about Ford seeing him, he just struggles to stay on the plane of existence people are when they touch him. Stan warping onto a different layer, not frustrated but so, so hungry.

Gets a genius idea. He'll just eat Ford, then Ford won't interrupt him anymore.

Bill does not like this idea, but cannot give Stan enough of a reason not to do it. Bill wants him to eat doesn't he? Fords stopping that from happening, if he eats Ford then no one will stop him. Easy.

Bill pops in to warn Ford of Stan's brand new plan, warns him to keep an eye out and stick with Fiddleford. Shenanigans happen, and Stan gets interrupted again. by the skinny guy. He's so hungry and starving and the snacking isn't helping. He needs a full meal, no mater how it happens.

Hmmm. Extra angst incoming. Stan can't maintain a physical presence on the world if someone touches him, but he needs to interact with his target to eat them (parallel Falin being unable to eat enough with her tiny mouth, Stan can't fit a person in there, this is the best he can do). Comes up with a new idea! He needs his prey to be aware for max misery, needs to interact with them, needs to not be interrupted.

He'll wait for Bill to visit Fords dream again, he'll slip into the mindscape, then eat Ford there. No one to interrupt, no one to stop him. Finally get rid of one Ford, then he can eat the other when he's done.

More shenanigans, Stan's lying low, not on the physical plane, Ford falls asleep, Bill visits (doesn't know Stan's plan, why tell the only other guy who might interrupt after all), and Stan pounces. He looks even more brain breaking here in Fords dream, barely having a human shape to maintain. Ford runs, Bill tries to interfere, Stan shows off why things like him are so dangerous, twists around and almost gets Ford.

Bill manages to interfere, then explodes at Stan, about how stupid he is, how Bill made it clear to eat anyone but Ford, how if Stan could have done this the whole time, he should have told him so that Bill could have gotten some other extra human for him to eat and this could have been over ages ago!

Right in front of Ford.

Fight happens, Bill admits to being a demon, about the real reason he wanted to make the portal, they fight, and Stan is still there, still hungry, still looking for those delicious terrible emotions. Anger, sadness, desperation, misery, denial. And Fords feeling those things sure, he just learned his Muse was trying to get his brother to eat people and use him to end the world.

But Bill is also feeling those things. Bill miserable and hides it with his boastful personality, is desperate to party and shove his feelings aside, desperate to leave his crumbling dimension, angry at Ford for not being on his side, not seeing things his way, in so much denial about it all. He's a ball of self hate and emotions thats been marinating since before Earth existed.

Now that Stan's here, in the layer of the midnscape, he can smell it, can taste it, can see it.

Bill's looking pretty good actually. Better than any poor lost soul Stan's tried to dine on in the last however long it took to get to this point (months probably), and, key point here, Bill can change sizes and be changed in the dream.

Stan can fit him in his mouth.

Cue Ford getting a front row seat to Stan snatching his former muse and ripping into him. Its a horror show of two eldritch entities going at it, Bill struggling to get away and Stan reaching into him, tearing out pieces of his blackened heart, and shoving them into his mouth, squishing Bill smaller and biting down on him, shifting his size in Fords mind so he won't spill a single drop of Bill's mangled soul.

Eating the last piece of an entire dimension.

And then Ford wakes up in a cold sweat, the last moments of his dream nothing but the feeling of watching two higher energy beings like he was watching a nature documentary. His brain turned off his eyes so he wouldn't go mad from the experience. No idea if Bill survived, but that doesn't matter.

What matters is that Stan's right next to him, arm thrown across Fords chest, mouth open and drooling, snoring away, head squished against Fords neck. Curled on top of him and still smacking his lips a little. Ford can still see fragments of Bill's soul in his teeth, and its as horrifying as it is fascinating. He looks just like he did that first night, if a little... off. Skin too perfect, teeth too sharp, something about him thats just not quite as human as he used to be, but more here then he's been since he ran off.

And yeah, Stan ate Fords muse, but it was that or let Stan eat probably thousands of people. How much human souls equals the power Bill had after all? How much power did Stan's soul need to fix itself, if it took more than one bite of Bill's own to do it. And Bill betrayed him after all, planned to use Fords own creation to destroy the world. Fitting that he should instead fix Fords brother, Fords world.

So Ford goes back to sleep, squeezing Stan and only slightly unnerved by the fact that he can sort of feel Stan squishing into him on another plane of existence somehow. No way to explain it other than 'physically we are touching but i'm pretty sure Stan's soul is cuddling mine inside my body'

Then Stan wakes up even more confused. Everything was one big blur to him. Pretty sure he went on a drug trip and it was cured by the power of a bowl of corn chips. Very happy to get all the Ford hugs and also weirded out by the knowledge he is now huggning Fords soul on a parallel plane of existence. No he has no idea how to explain it either other than 'Physically i'm right here, but i'm also doing this' and then Ford smacks him and tells him to stop doing that, even though they weren't touching.