#I want to but like idk how people would take it

[sports-on-sundays]

Hello hello, I am back with another request! It's with Oscar again but friends to lovers. Hear me out, the most cliche thing ever. Oscar loves her, she loves him but both too dense to realise it. They are out and about and another dude corners her and tries to make out with her, Oscar saves the day (make him protective and violent pls, make him punch the guy (side note: I would pay money to see Oscar actually punch someone, don't ask me why idk🙈)). So then he comforts her, takes her home and she asks him to stay. I will leave the rest of the convo to you🤗. Let there be a first kiss and cuddle I beg I am the biggest sucker for those bcs Oscar seems like the best guy to have your firsts with.

Holy hell that's a long ass request haha. Thank you for reading all that🤣 have fun with it and feel free to change things up a little bit if you want to!

be / OP81

Summary: Oscar x female!best childhood friend!Australian!reader - You and Oscar are finally forced to realize your feelings for each other.

Warnings: panicking, someone forcing himself onto another person, blood, crying, i did change up the request a little bit 🤏, feeling sick

Requested: Yes! And don't worry about the long request, I really liked it, and thanks so much for requesting! Long requests are better sometimes anyway.

Author's Note: Guys I'm starting to think I seriously need my very own Oscar Piastri....

"It wasn't even that funny-"

"It wasn't even that funny!"

Both you and Oscar look up to who it was mockingly imitating Oscar's friendly teasing, and your eyes set themselves upon Lando Norris, smirking obnoxiously.

"What's your problem?" you demand, crossing your arms, most of the laughter from Oscar's joke that he made fives minutes ago (yes, you were still laughing your head off at it) gone.

"What do you mean? I'm just kidding. It's just funny how your boyfriend can make the most dumb joke, and send you both into a ten minute laughing fit-"

"Boyfriend?" you and Oscar seem to ask incredulously in sink.

The smile falls off of Lando's face this time, and is replaced by a look of surprise and confusion. "Waaaait... So you're trying to tell me you guys aren't dating?"

Oscar blinks a few times in confusion. "Y/n and I are just friends. We always have been."

"Yeah," you add quickly, nodding. "I don't know why everyone thinks differently."

Lando's eyebrows raise in amusement. "Maybe because you guys act like you're mad in love...? Like, all the time? Or maybe the fact that you come to every single one of our races? Or maybe it's the way you look at each other with heart eyes, like the other one is the only one in the room? I mean, I don't know. It could be the way you're always giggling and talking and yapping to each other... But, oh, what do I and everybody else know?"

"Good question," Oscar deadpans. "What do you know?"

Lando shrugs, rollings his eyes, and struts away. As soon as he's gone, Oscar turns back to you with a little shrug and says, "Sorry about that. I guess nobody gets that two people can love each other as friends without feeling romantic feelings..."

You nod, shrugging. It makes sense to you, simply because that's how it's always been with you and Oscar, forever. The two of you practically slept in the same crib (not literally!). You always just assumed he's like a brother or something, and it doesn't pay to consider anything else. So you haven't. Too risky, and besides- that's not worth it to waste your time thinking about. You like things just the way they are, no need to change them.

"-Y/n?"

"Hm?!" you look up, snapping out of your pondering.

Oscar smiles at you, his brown eyes soft, like they always are when he looks at you. You smile back, eyes equally as warm as he says, "Did you hear me?" in amusement.

You chuckle, "No, sorry."

He nods, giving your shoulder a little pat as he stands up. "I've got to go now get ready for the race. First of the season. Wish me luck!"

"Luck isn't needed," you say with a little grin. "You've got enough skill alone to win it."

He grins. "I guess. But luck never hurts, does it?"

"Not at all." You stand up with him and give him a quick half-hug, saying gentler, "Drive safe, and bring it home. I'll be cheering you on."

"Like always?"

"Like always."

"Hey, Y/n?"

You look up from your phone, shutting it off. You're sitting alone, long after the 2025 season opening race, the Australian Grand Prix, has ended. You haven't seen Oscar since the race ended, and have just been sitting around, not wanting to go home until you have a chance to talk with him. And there he is, standing there, back in his regular clothes: a black sweatshirt, sweatpants, and sneakers, looking thoroughly sleepy.

You immediately stand up, smiling, saying simply, "It was a great drive."

"Well, I-"

"Hush. You scored points after what happened, and that's enough, for goodness' sake."

He smiles softly, and though his eyes say a lot more, he just nods and says simply, "Yeah, yeah, you're right. As always."

You nod promptly and say teasingly, "I know!"

He just rolls his eyes and says, already in a better mood just by talking to you, "Mum wanted you over tonight for dinner."

You grin, "She did, did she?"

"You know she always does, whenever I'm around, want me to bring you over. She adores you."

"She's the sweetest," you chuckle. "Well, I wouldn't mind one of your mum's home cooked meals."

Oscar nods, grabbing his coat, and saying, "I agree; that would hit the spot right now. C'mon."

You two make it to the car and get in, before you start heading to Oscar's mother's home. The car ride is mostly silent, but neither of you really mind. It's a comfortable, good kind of silence.

Towards the end of it, though, you ask simply, "So, that's the end of the first race week of the season. How're you feeling?"

Oscar shrugs, thinking for a few moments, before saying, "Hmm... I guess I'd have to say tired, but very hopeful."

You smile. "Good. You just need your beauty rest, huh?"

He glances at you with a cute little smile. "Right."

Dinner is nice. Warm, and reminds you of home, and your childhood, and everything good. And it's perfect for a rainy day like today.

Once he's finished eating, though, Oscar stands up, stretching, from the table, and says, "Well, I should be off to bed..."

"Oh, Oscar, you will give poor Y/n a ride home won't you?" Oscar's mother asks.

He looks over at you with a little smile and nods, saying, "Oh, right, of course."

You walk to the door together, but before Oscar opens the front door to leave, you gently grab his arm and say simply, "Osc."

He looks up from unlocking the door, meeting your eyes. "Hm?" he asks gently.

"You don't need to drive me home. I could get a cab or take the bus or whatever. It's all good. You've had a crazy week, as it is, much crazier than mine-"

"I mean, I was thinking maybe it'd be fine if I didn't drive you home, too, but you don't have to get a cab. I'm sure if I asked, my mum would be fine with you just staying the night or something."

You blink in surprise, but smile at the suggestion. "Oh. Well, I'd hate to bud in-"

He smiles. "You're family, Y/n. Don't worry." He takes your hand, tugging you back towards the dining room, calling, "Mum! Would it be fine if Y/n just stayed the night? We've both had a long day!"

"Oh, of course, honey! Tell her she can make herself just all nice and comfy and at home! Y/n's such a sweetheart, anyways. She's always welcome!"

Oscar smiles, looking at you. "You heard that, right?"

You smile back up at him with a little laugh. "Yeah, I heard that."

He nods, saying, "C'mon, let's go to my room."

The two of you head there, both of you knowing the way to Oscar's childhood bedroom from all the years you used to spend in there together. When you walk in, seeing all the dressers in the same place they always were, and all Oscar's old decorations from his karting days, memories seem to flood back, just like that, and both you and Oscar feel it. You crawl onto his bed, just like you always used to do, flopping down against his pillows, making yourself at home.

Oscar smiles and crawls in next to you. Just like he always used to do, too. "Last time we were both here was..."

"...right after you joined McLaren, right?" you smile at the memory.

"I guess so." He smiles down at you.

"I remember distinctly, one time, you had been gone so, so long, and I asked your mum if I could surprise you when you got home..."

Oscar starts laughing, clearly remembering it to. "Ohhh yeah. I threw open the bedroom door and flopped on my bed, even though you were on it. By the time I saw you and yelped, it was too late."

"Yeah, and I wrapped my arms around you and started tickling you," you say giggling.

He rolls his eyes, grinning. "I remember. By the end of it, I was gasping and near tears. God, Y/n, you know I was tired."

"I know. But I made you laugh and smile, didn't I? And I made you feel better, didn't I?"

"I mean, I was just happy to see you," he says, his gaze comfortably resting on yours.

"I was happy to see you. Do you know how much I missed you those months?"

"You miss me if you don't see me for a week, Y/n, still."

"Why do you think I come to every race that I can?"

"Because I pay for you to?"

You roll your eyes at that, crossing your arms, "I mean, yeah, but that's not the sentiment I was going for!"

He laughs, giving your shoulder a little playful tap. "I know, I know."

You sigh deeply, the sweet silence settling between the two of your for a little while, before murmuring, "And I hope you remember after that tickle attack, when your face was red and you were nearly crying from laughing, I gave you the biggest hug of all time..."

Oscar's face warms at that as he leans a bit closer to you. "Yeah... Yeah, I remember. You wanna know why that moment was special to me?"

"Why?"

"Because that was the moment I realized that there are some people in my life that never truly will leave me. Even if I leave them. And you're one of the best of them. That was when I learned what family is."

You nod slowly, thinking about that for a few moments, before saying, "That's... so sweet. I like it."

Oscar smiles. "Me, too. I like it too. I'm so lucky to have a best friend like you."

"And I so lucky to have a best friend like you."

Oscar smiles at that, nodding, satisfied, before letting out a big yawn, reminding you if a sleepy cat, before folding his hands up into fists and rubbing his watery eyes.

And, as if it's contagious, you let your own yawn, a few moments later.

Oscar smiles, this time more sleepily at you, before slipping his arm over your shoulders and pulling you a little closer to himself. You flop your head to lean against his shoulder, and murmur, "Time for us both to get the much-needed rest our bodies are begging us for?"

"Mmm-hm. Yeah. Whatever you said," Oscar murmurs as he drifts off, the hint of a smile still lingering on his mostly relaxed face.

And you both drift off, surrounded by that perfect warmth and tranquility that feels just like home.

A little under a week later, you're sleeping against Oscar in a very similar position, feeling like you're just as at home in China than you are in Australia, simply because of the person you're resting against, when you're awakened by the painful claims, "I ship it, the mechanics ship it, the other teams' drivers ship it, the fans ship it. My God, even my mum ships it! Literally everyone can see you're mad in love except you and her!"

You stretch, your eyes fluttering open, and murmur before you're even sure it's Lando's unwanted yapping torturing your ears, "Landooo shut uppp..."

Oscar gives your shoulder a squeeze, groaning to Lando in his perfectly alert awake state (contrary to yours), "Look at that, Lando, you made her wake up!"

"Oh, yeah, 'cause you'd hate for her to stop sleeping against y-"

"Lando, stop, it's not like that."

"How come every time a girl and a guy are friends, everyone ships them? I think that's society's problem," you comment as you rub your tired eyes.

Lando snorts, saying, "It's not every time. You guys are just obvious. And oblivious. You just need to admit it to each other."

"There's nothing to admit to each other, Lando," Oscar comments as he watches you slowly lean off of him, slipping his arm off your shoulders.

"Yeah, we're, like, brother and sister."

"Well, I wouldn't say that-" Oscar begins quickly.

"I mean, yeah, like-"

"We're more like just really close friends," Oscar finishes confidently.

"Yes, that's true, I agree," you say quickly, looking up at him. "We're family, but not brother and sister."

"Ah, so you're family, but it's not like siblings. What else could you be other than mad in love but just too dense to realize it?" Lando asks.

You just glare, crossing your arms, and Oscar comments, "I don't know, but it's not like that."

"Maybe it's just not like that simply because you both refuse to admit what you really want."

"Lando, I don't need you of all people being my psychologist. Could you just leave it?" you comment, feeling Oscar's eyes watching you.

Lando sighs (overdramatically), shrugs, and says, "Suit yourself. I'm just saying, you guys have got to get together soon, or else you'll drive yourselves and everyone else insane. We can all tell you guys just need to kiss already." And with that, he once again struts away.

As soon as he's gone, you whine, leaning your head into Oscar's shoulder, "I hate Lando!"

"Don't say that. He's just kidding," Oscar says gently.

You sigh. "I know... it's just..."

"Hm?" Oscar prompts gently.

"I don't want people thinking something that's not true."

"Who cares what they think? We both know how we feel about each other, and that's all that matters." But do we? Oscar's brain echoes.

"Yeah, you're right," you murmur, nodding, comforted by his words, not even picking up the way he stares forward, eyebrows knitted together, deep in thought.

You've heard what you think you want to hear, and that's all that matters to you.

The moment you see Oscar after his podium, after he stood on the first step, winning such a solid race as that, you run into his arms, causing him to laugh as he hugs you back, saying, "Hey, Y/n."

"I'm so proud of you!" you say excitedly. "Amazing drive- amazing!"

"Thank you, Y/n. It means a lot. I'm so happy you were here to cheer me on."

You grin up at him. "Me, too, Oscar. Me too."

He celebrated with his team after the race, you staying in your hotel, since Oscar promised you he'd like to bring you home with him to Monaco, and have a more low key celebration, without as many people. Besides, you'd like it that way better anyway. And this way, you can get some extra sleep and try to avoid some of the jet lag from the long flight to Monaco.

Now you stand in Oscar's bathroom back in Monaco, gazing at yourself in the mirror in your white crop top and silver skirt, knowing that when you step out of the bathroom, all you need is for Oscar to tell you it looks nice, and then all your worries will vanish.

And once you do, of course, he stands up from the living couch and says, "You look really pretty. Ready to go?"

You smile softly, sighing in relief, and nod. "Yes. I'm ready to go celebrate with the winner of the 2025 Chinese Grand Prix." You laugh a bit, and add as you head out to the car, "Oscar, you know I'm so incredibly proud of you."

He grins. "I know, I know." You know he loves your lavishing, even if he wouldn't admit it. He's never gotten enough of it; you're one of the people that appreciate him the most, you think, at least. You appreciate him a whole lot, anyways.

Soon you get to your destination, and the night starts off really fun, you and Oscar just sticking with each other, laughing, singing, drinking, and dancing. But after too long, the air becomes stale, the noise becomes too loud, and the drinks turn bitter. You're tired, and Oscar's off somewhere, swept away with his other friends. You sigh deeply, leaning against the wall, running a hand through your hair.

It's then that you feel a hand on your shoulder, and it makes you flinch. It's unfamiliar.

It's not Oscar's hand.

You look up to see a man around your age with tangled overgrown curly brown hair and dark, cold eyes. He's wearing a gold chain around his neck and a football jersey. It's then that he shows you his unflattering smirk and says in a thick French accent, "I'm Jordan."

You just kind of nod, showing a fake smile and crossing your arms, not really in the mood for any antics with any strange guys.

His eyebrows raise as he says, "Do you have a name, or am I going to have to give you one?"

Your lip immediately curls up as you look at him from the corner of your eye, still not tilting your face directly towards him. "You're not smooth. My name is Y/n."

"Pretty name for a pretty girl. A sassy girl, too, at that. I like that."

You bite your lip, rolling your eyes in utter annoyance at this guy 'Jordan.' "Good for you..." you murmur, trying to send him the message that you really don't want to talk with him.

Jordan just hums and steps closer to you. You glance up at him for the first time, really, feeling a bit sick from how close he is to you. You murmur awkwardly, "Could you please step away?"

"No, I don't think I will. I'm enjoying your reaction too much."

"Please, stop."

He roughly grabs your chin, forcing you to look him in the eyes. You swallow deeply.

"I really like your skirt..." he purrs, leaning in closer to you, completely ignoring your protests. His hand slips onto your thigh and grips it tightly.

"Stop... I don't care-"

"You don't, don't you? Well, what a shame... I reckon there's not much you can do about that..."

"St-"

He lips meet yours in a nasty, rough kiss. Your head pounds and spins as your knees begin to shake, panic of what's happening sinking in, your thoughts raging with anxious thoughts at the same time as your head being completely empty. You push at his chest, but he pushes his whole body up against yours, pinning you to the wall, further into a shadow.

You gasp, the panic sinking in deeper, and hardly register what happens next.

Oscar's familiar voice in all the chaos says in one of the angriest, coldest tones you've ever heard from his mouth, "Get your fucking nasty hands away from her."

Jordan tears his lips away from your mouth as Oscar grabs him, Jordan turning his head to look behind him, but before he has a chance to react, you watch as a fist comes flying across and hits him square across the face. He stumbles back and as blood begins gushing from his nose. For a moment, his eyes meet yours in shock, as if he expects you to help a dog like him, but it's then that you watch Oscar grab him by the collar and murmur in the darkest of tones to him, "I told you to get your nasty hands away from her, and you didn't. That's my girl, and no one dares to touch her like that. You better not think you can go on like this, and I hope this can be a reminder for you not to." And with that, Oscar throws another punch, hitting the guy in his eye. You slowly slip down the wall, still watching in shock as Oscar finishes him off by handing one more punch to him on his bloody jaw, before letting go of his collar, letting him fall to the floor, finishing with a yell, "The pain you're feeling right now is nothing compared to the pain you deserve!"

You watch as Jordan scampers up and, just like that, without even considering a fight, stumbles off, out of sight.

And then, everything hushed, Oscar turns, and his eyes meet yours. His hair is a little sweaty and messed up, falling over his forehead. For a moment, you see that remaining burning anger, but as soon as he takes you in, that vanishes, and is replace by the familiar warmth he seems to always look at you with.

And the moment your eyes lock, the tears start coming, and you break down.

Oscar is immediately by your side, pulling you into his arms, sitting on the floor next to you and holding you in his lap, gently stroking your hair. After a while, you hiccup, slowly leaning away, your body still shaking, and murmur, mopping up your eyes with your hands, "Os- Oscar... That was scary. I'm scared."

He gently takes your hand. "You don't have to be. I'm here. Are you ready to go home?"

You nod slowly, and Oscar helps you up, leading you out back to his car, his arm around your back protectively the entire time.

Once back in the car, as the events of what just happened replay through your head, you hiccup, more tears threatening to flow. Oscar gently takes your hand, murmuring in the dark of the parked car, "Tell me what I can do for you, and I'll do it. I hope you know I'll do anything for you to feel better."

You sigh shakily and just lean into him. He wraps his arms around you, holding you for a few minutes, before you lean away again and murmur, "Let's just get home..."

Oscar nods. "Good idea." He turns the car on and begins driving, and as soon as he does holds his hand that he's not using to drive out to you. You put your hand in his, letting the warmth from it fill you and comfort you.

As he drives, you suddenly say in the empty silence, "'That's my girl.' That's what you said."

Oscar just nods a little. "I know. I did mean to say that, you know."

You swallow, thinking for a few moments, before murmuring the simple question, "Why?"

"Because you've always been mine and I've always been yours, haven't I?"

You swallow. "I don't know what that means."

"Forget what it means. You're the most important girl- the most important person- to me. You're my girl, and I'm not going to let anyone be messing with you."

That feels right to you, and good to you, to hear that. And you're glad, in a way, that he's so confidently figured that out. It frees you to say back, "Well, yeah, then... I guess that makes you my boy, then..."

Oscar smiles very softly, giving your hand a little squeeze as you arrive at his home. Once you're both inside, before you have a chance to start worrying, Oscar says gently, putting a hand on your shoulder, "I want you to be comfortable. What do you need? I could get you something to eat, run a bath for you, get a change of clothes, all three, whatever else you need-"

"Oh, uh, don't worry about it-"

"Hush," Oscar suddenly interrupts, shaking his head. He moves to stand right in front of you, before gazing down into your eyes, and saying in all sincerity, "Look, I want you to be honest. I want to take care of you if that's what you need. I want you to be comfortable."

You swallow, nodding a bit, before murmuring, "A bath and a change of clothes might be nice... I'm not hungry, though."

Oscar nods, putting his hand on your back, leading you to his room. He opens his closet and says, "You can wear whatever you can find. I'm going to go run that bath for you; I'll call you when it's ready. I'll get a towel for you in the bathroom, too."

You nod, find one of his bigger McLaren T-shirts and a pair of black sweatpants, and head to the bathroom just as Oscar is calling for you.

Oscar smiles at you gently when you walk in and say simply, "Anything else you need?"

You shake your head 'no,' saying, "Thank you."

He nods. "Of course. I'll just be in the living room, you can come there when you're done. Call me if you need anything. And take your time, too."

You smile weakly, nodding. "Alright. Thanks, Osc."

He nods, leaving you to have your bath. You peel off your clothes and sink into the water, feeling its warmth surround you like an embrace. You let out a long sigh of relief as the water touches your sore, tense muscles, soothing them. After the night you've had, it feels good to just be. To just experience something genuinely good and calming, knowing Oscar is just in the next room.

Oscar. The way he stood up for you, was so protective of you, and beyond that, has been taking such good care of you... You know Oscar a good man... He was always a really sweet boy, and he's grown up to be a really very upright and sweet man. It was crazy- crazy- to see him go off on that stranger, and beat him up the way he did.

But somehow, it felt right. It was just proving he's good. That he cares so much about and for you, he won't let anyone hurt you without knowing the consequences of it from him.

How much does he really care about me?

The question almost feels good to ask, because you have a feeling the answer is one you like.

And then the way he so confidently called you his girl.

'That's my girl.'

Just looking back on it, for some reason, it makes your heart skip a beat. It's that chest-tightening nervous affectionate feeling you get often when Oscar does or says little things. Although this time, it's not little, and every new thing he does seems to make your stomach flutter a little more. It's a familiar feeling that you're sure you've gotten hundreds of times before with Oscar, but for some reason, you're only realising it now. Why, you have no idea, and what the strange feelings could mean, you have even less of an idea.

Soon, you finish your bath, and after drying yourself put on Oscar soft, comfortable clothes, no matter how over sized they are on you. Besides, you don't care in the slightest about that as soon as you inhale his familiar, comforting scent when you put them on. You go to the living room and see Oscar laying on the couch on his phone, now in a T-shirt and sweatpants, just relaxing. As soon as you walk in, though, he looks up.

"Osc...? Do you have a brush I could use for my hair?"

He nods, hopping up from the couch, and says, "Yeah, I do. Wait here, I'll be right back. Just get yourself comfy."

He leaves, and you shrug, taking his advice, and curl up on the couch, waiting for him to come back. He takes longer than you expect him to, but soon enough, he walks back in and sits next to you, saying, "Why don't you just relax, and I can brush it for you?"

"Seriously? You don't have to," you say immediately, secretly wanting badly for him to brush your hair for you. You love the feeling of other people playing with your hair- and if it's Oscar, even better.

He smiles at you. "I know, but I want to." And with that, to both of your delight apparently, begins gently brushing through your hair. When he's done, he slowly start running his fingers through it, starting from the bottom and going up to the top. You sigh, leaning back into him, and Oscar just simply loves it. After a while he says, softly amused, "You just seem to melt when my hands are in your hair."

You shrug, smiling a little, and say, "What can I say? It feels really good."

He chuckles that low comforting chuckle that feels just like home. "I can tell." After a few more minutes he says, "I found a hair tie I think you must've left here at one point. Do want me to braid your hair or something?"

You smile, glancing back at him, and say, "You can do that? I don't know if I can trust you."

He just smiles back at you. "You should. I'm good at it. Remember, I grew up with three sisters."

You shrug again before saying, "Well, alright..."

He chuckles softly again, before he gently begins braiding your hair, his fingers gently weaving through your locks, slowly, until he finally finishes and ties it on the end. Once he's finished, you turn around to face him.

He smiles at you.

You smile back, taking his hands in both of yours.

"You're beautiful," he suddenly says, looking right into your eyes. "I don't think I've told you that enough. Because I think it all the time, whenever I look at you."

For some reason, your friend saying that makes you blush. There are a few moments of silence, before you look down at your joined hands and murmur, "Crazy that the hands that beat up that guy are the same hands that just gently braided my hair."

Oscar shrugs, smiling a little. "They have different uses in different moments. And I don't regret what I did for a moment, not any of it. I would do the exact same thing if I had to do it all again. In fact, just thinking about it makes me really angry. But what matters most is that you're okay."

You sigh slowly, nodding, your head a bit dizzy at the thought of it all. "I'm just so thankful for you, throughout it all. You, like, saved the day..." you chuckle wryly.

He shrugs, nodding a bit. "I guess." A little laugh.

More silence.

You stare down once more at your joined hands. "But Oscar..." you begin hesitantly.

"Yes?" he prompts gently.

"...I'm sorry."

"Y/n... for what? You did nothing wrong-!" Oscar begins somewhat incredulously.

"It's just... You were celebrating your win..."

"Oh, Y/n..." Oscar begins, his tone softening. "Come on, now. Look up at me, will you?"

You sigh, doing so.

"It's not your fault, what happened," Oscar says. "It's that idiot's fault, and we both know that. What happened happened, and there was no preventing it. And if you're worried about me, don't be. I had a perfectly good time celebrating in China with my team. This was more that I wanted to do something with you, for you. But look at this right now. Here we are, sitting together, anyway. Isn't that what matters the most anyway; isn't that the point? So why don't we just make the most of this moment, right now, hm?"

You sigh again, nodding slowly, before saying, you heart almost feeling like it's being squeezed, "Okay."

"Hey," Oscar murmurs, his hand touching the bottom of your chin. "You're looking down again. Talk to me." He gently raises your chin.

You swallow, and suddenly, words that you hardly knew you even thought start coming from your mouth, and only now as you hear them in your voice do they even begin to make sense: "I guess it's just that... You're so caring and gentle with me, and protective. And we like each other so much and get along so well and we've known each other for years and... I guess sometimes I wonder about us... You know, our relationship, like, what even is it? I mean, I think we'd both readily admit we most definitely love each other, but I guess... well, I don't know..."

Oscar nods slowly, before whispering, as if it's some long kept secret, "You guess you just wonder in what way we love each other?"

You swallow, nodding. "Well, yes, exactly. Because... well, I don't know."

"Can I tell you how I feel about you?"

You study his face for a few moments- his handsome face- and nod.

"I feel about you the most deep feeling I've ever known, deeper than I ever thought I could experience. The love I have for you is beyond anything I could describe in a physical sense- it's beyond a romantic love or and family love or the strongest kind of named love I could think of. All I know is that when I look at you, I see fulfillment, and happiness. I see everything I've ever needed, plus everything I've ever wanted. I see a priceless jewel- the sort of thing that anyone would honor and protect with their life. I see beauty herself, on the inside and out. I see my best friend, my favorite person, the one I would spend any and every moment with, if I could. I see comfort, I see love. I look at you and know the great lengths I would go for you. I know it's all so cliche, but it is a love beyond words. It is. I just..." he trails off, before leaning in and whispering, "Are you crying?"

You sniff, looking away, your heart pounding. "No..."

He smiles gently, his hand leaving yours to reach up and wipe a tear away off your cheek with his thumb, "Don't cry."

"That's just so... sweet... and... everything I exactly feel, too, put into words..."

"Y/n..." he hums gently with a little chuckle. "I don't want you to cry, though."

"Don't worry," you say with a little hiccupy laugh. "They're good tears."

He smiles a bit, grabbing your hand again and giving it a squeeze. "Okay."

You swallow, before daring to ask, "What would the difference be, if you were my boyfriend instead of my best friend?"

Oscar eyes seem to light slightly at the question, and he says simply, "Nothing at all, except for one thing: we would be able to express that deep love for each other in different ways."

You nod slowly, swallowing.

Oscar leans in closer to you. "How does that sound to you?"

"I... I think it could be just what I need."

Oscar smiles softly. "I mean, I feel like... it would be nice to not just have to use my words to tell you how much I love you. You know, to be able to kiss you, or something, instead."

You find yourself smile a little at the words, nodding as pinkness gets to your cheeks. "Yeah... that doesn't sound so bad."

Oscar smiles, just gazing into your eyes. "Yeah?"

"It's just that... with tonight, with what happened..."

"Oh, I wasn't meaning we had to do anything tonight- just to think about. You know...?"

You nod slowly, before muttering, "But maybe... Just maybe tonight is the night to do it." You pause, before continuing, "You know, with all that happened, maybe if we just decided... tonight, let's just take a little step... it would help me to leave that. You know, it wasn't my fault... and I have someone who really does love me."

Oscar smiles. "And I really do."

You smile back, looking back up into his sweet brown eyes.

He slips his hand out of yours and gently brings it to your cheek, muttering, "Well, is it okay if I kiss you? Just a little kiss?"

You smile wider, feeling your stomach flutter at the sincere question. Nodding, you reply, "Yes, I reckon that is okay."

Oscar nods, his thumb stroking your cheek a bit as he leans in, his other hand gently touching your waist. His hand on your cheek shifts to cup the side of your neck, and he whispers, his warm breath on your ear, "You still okay?"

You nod.

And with that, he leans in, and, pulling you closer to himself, kisses you in the most perfect way. His adoration and love for you flows through the kiss, while still keeping it short and gentle. When he leans away, he whispers, "How was that?" with a little adorable smile.

You just sigh shakily and murmur, "I think you should do it again."

And he does without a second more of hesitation. His lips meet yours as he pulls your body closer to himself, lost in the kiss, lost in his emotions. When he pulls away again, he's pulled you onto his lap, but neither of you seem to care, both too swept up in each other's gazing eyes.

"I didn't realize for how long I needed to do that..." he whispers gently.

You smile a little. "I didn't realize how long I needed that from you."

He smiles back. "We'll call that both of our first kisses, okay?"

You nod. "Does this mean I'm your girlfriend now?"

"I like the sound of that."

You smile and throw your arms around him in an embrace. He pulls you closer to him, leaning back so that you can lay your head on him, and rubs your back, whispering, "I love you so much, Y/n. So, so much. To the moon and the stars and all the way back."

You smile up at him. "I don't know about the moon and the stars for me Oscar, but I'll tell you this: I love you enough to want to spend my life with you. I love you enough to want to grow old with you."

At those words, Oscar's arms tighten around you, and he chuckles, "See how sappy we suddenly get as soon as we decide to just give it up and kiss? My God."

You grin into his chest. "Yeahhh... But I don't mind it."

"Oh, trust me, I don't either." He shifts, moving you with him, making you both comfortable, so that you're laying together, cuddling.

"I really like this."

He hums. "Me too."

"You know we'll never hear the end of it from Lando if he finds out."

You feel the vibration of his laugh in his chest. "I guess we'll cross that bridge when we come to it. For now, let's just relax. I just want to be. Be with you."

"I think that sounds like exactly what I was made for. To be with you."

He smiles, and you shut your eyes, content to listen to his heartbeat and just be.

Just be with him.

[d1etpeps]

i love your aesthetic!!! if i can request something? protective vi x reader? maybe someone is bothering reader in public and vi stands up for her. no violence or anything, just her telling them to back off and taking care of reader. some reassurance maybe? idk i trust your creative process

Headcannon. #3. Protect Me. Roommate!Vi x Fem!Reader, Vi protects you against unwanted attention.

authors note: thank you anon! sorry for the wait, but i wanted this to be perfect (considering you trust my creative process don't). I took it in a bit of a different direction, so hopefully it's worth it.

warnings: descriptions of anxiety/anxiety attacks, gross men and their unwanted opinions, not proof read!

The Last Drop was buzzing with loud voices and sweaty bodies, an unusual scene, although it was a Saturday night. It wasn’t what you’d expected. Every other night, the booths were full, bartenders wiping down one side of a bench just to dirty it again with missed pours of different spirits, but the voices carried conversations, with deliberate laughs.

But tonight? An unusual crowd had found its way through the streets of Zaun, finding one of the most beloved bars, popular for its decorated hero and owner, and began soaking in the spotlight of their makeshift dance floor. 

The music reverberated against the walls, at the demands of the people who found themselves up and around the bar, disrupting those hidden away in booths, just trying to enjoy their time nursing a beer. 

You, like many others, were tucked in a corner booth, lips wrapping around the black straw of your gin and tonic, taking small sips to soothe the bubbling pit of nausea settling in your stomach. You felt the gentle back and forth of Vi’s thumb on your wrist, friendly enough to not cross the line, yet still planting a small seed of doubt, readily awaiting its period to bloom. 

The thoughts in your head had only become a muddy mess of absolutely nothing a few minutes ago when the rushing bodies of Zaun’s most lower-class citizens had come bumping into you, splashing their drinks here and there, enough for Vi to have that twitch in her brow, telling you how frustrated she really was.

She just wanted this to be a nice night for the two of you, to celebrate you after completing a particularly difficult assignment, (she had heard the words molecular biophysics and biochemistry within the same sentence and automatically assumed that the assignment had in fact, been a bitch to hand in). 

What Violet had failed to notice was the way you were beginning to tune out to everything that was being said. She couldn’t blame you, it was almost impossible to hear her own voice over the chanting, dancing and brawls of the newfound crowd. 

You could see her lips moving, powder blue eyes taking hold of your own, attempting to trap you, in which case but this would have imprisoned your mind, willing to listen to her voice until the end of time. Instead, your mind was static. The world was becoming too loud for comfort, the stickiness of countless bodies rubbing against your own, despite being shielded by a booth, with blood feeling like it was draining from your head, there was a crushing heat taking its place.

When your skin started losing colour, replacing the pink of your lips with a sickening colour, Vi knew you were checking out. 

“Hey, Doll? Are you okay?” It was a dumb question to ask; she knew the answer, even if you were to stare her dead in the face and lie, swear on your heart and soul that you were fine, because honestly, you were not prepared for this. 

You tried shaking your head in a desperate attempt not to trigger the swaying of nausea in your stomach, but it was futile. the sweat was beginning to build along your hairline, the warmth of the bar's air only increasing in temperature. 

Vi wasted no time in interlacing your fingers with her own, assisting you on getting up on your feet. With broad shoulders and long strides across the floor, she was shielding your body with your own, always looking back behind her to make sure you were still with her, even though she could feel the radiating heat off your hands. 

When the back door of the bar was pushed open, you could immediately feel the night robbing you of your heat. The pressure of nausea, the thickness in your throat, and the tears welling up were all subdued, frozen in time along with the frost of Zaun’s winter. 

“Are you with me?” Violet asked, her hand brushing the stray pieces of hair framing your face to the side. 

Again, you nodded, less fearful of triggering the nauseated bubbles in your stomach. “I just need to sit down, that’s all.”

You softly hit the brick wall of the alleyway, sliding down slowly against the chilled concrete. Your roommate got down carefully beside you, watching gently at how the cool air kissed back the colour in your face, replacing the sickening feel with a slight brisk presence. 

She observed how you pulled your knees up to your chest, hugging the perimeter of your legs in an attempt to try to keep some warmth as the night's bitterness fed into your body temperature. Violet couldn’t help putting her hand forward to rest on your kneecap, picking up where she left off with the back and forth swaying of her thumb. She knew it was bordering on being more than friends, yet some part of her wanted to see if one day, your facade would slip and that maybe you would react. 

“The crowd-” you started, only getting so far before you chest felt like it was caving in, shallow breaths returning to the surface for just a split moment, before Vi gave a comforting squeeze, looking at you like you were her world, hopes an dreams, but that was something to decipher for another day. “They were all affected.”

Her lips dropped into a frown. She hadn’t wanted to say it or bring it to your attention, watching the glow of fluorescent purple illuminate the Last Drop. It wasn’t something you talked about, preferring to live in a bubble where things were peaceful and safe, almost hiding behind Vi as she protected you from every dark shadow that lingered around the corner.

Violet knew this. She knew that your biggest fear was an apocalypse, and as stupid as it sounds, she never made fun of you for it. Especially not when the distribution of shimmer began. In some ways, the epidemic of the drug infiltrating Zaun was equivalent to the dead roaming the land. Losing themself at the first taste, becoming something more than they ever should have. 

“We don’t have to stay,” It’s soft, something you just catch. But just for a second, you wanted to stay within the two walls of the alleyway, not minding the smell of rubble, as long as you had the girl that you loved appreciated next to you. 

Violet almost jumped when she felt your head rest against her shoulder, taking that as a can we just stay here, in this moment, together? Or maybe dreaming, that’s what was whirlling around in that pretty head of yours. 

Letting you stay perched up against her, she let her eyes flutter shut, just listening to the way your breathing was becoming spaced out at a more regular pace. It had always calmed her in some strange way, just knowing that you were there, even if you were as sweet as sugar; you scared all her monsters away. 

However, her utter concentration on the slow puffs of air you breathed out had distracted her from the fact that a lone man had stumbled into the confinements of the two walls you considered as yours. 

The low whistle snapped you both from the illusion of your own world. 

“Nice legs, gorgeous.” his voice dripped with paralysing venom. 

Vi immediately got up. She towered with her shoulders pulled back, slowly flexing her bandaged hands. You were waiting to get back home to help her wrap her knuckles with fresh bandages to rid the bloodiness of the old ones. 

“Do we have a problem?” Her voice is scarily stable, merely she commenting on his words. 

And, of course, when your head had raised to look at the man who stood only a few feet away, you were cursed by his eyes, watching how each movement of his head was followed with a blur of purple. 

You were scared. Not only of the man, but of what Vi would do. What she could handle and what she thought she could handle were two very different things. 

“I was just complimenting her.” He smirked. “Just take the compliment, sweetheart.”

Her fists clenched again, watching the muscles of her arms strain against her shirt, tauting up into power you were only used to seeing while she was in the pit. 

“Violet.” 

“You want to say that again?” Her voice wavers, cracking under the pressure of her irritation. Yet, it’s nothing short of intimidating.

“C’mon, why don’t you share that fine piece of ass around.”

Your desire to stay cowering down in some form of defeat was gnawing at your gut, however, your heart was telling you to not let this eventuate into something that could injure Vi. She of course, was insanely strong, but she had only ever fought against those who avoided the substance, or even if she had picked a fight with one of them, Vi had the technology that one of Piltover’s finest had gifted her. This was entirely out of her league.

"Violet."

Standing up on two shaky legs, you slip your hand into Vi’s. Intertwining your fingers with hers as best you could, as a silent depiction that whatever masculine energy he thought he was alluding, was not welcome.

The mans face scrunches up, watching as Vi’s eyebrows soften, firmly squeezing onto the hand in her own. 

Mercifully, whatever god above had protected you. You could see the glow of his eyes roll, highlighting the scowl on his face better than the shitty street lights that flickered as one of the undercities latest shimmer addicts disappeared into the loneliness of the night. 

Violet turned to you, a softness replacing the ferocity of her blue eyes. 

You couldn’t help but slip your hand against her cheek, cradling it as she hesitantly leaned into it, appreciating how the warmth of your palm contrasted with the ice of her skin. 

“I’m sorry.” She murmured.

“You have nothing to be sorry for, Vi.”

Violet closes her eyes, allowing her arms to wrap around you, hoping that her embrace was enough to tell you everything that was rushing through her mind.

Her lips press to your head, offering a promise within a whisper. "You are nothing like what they say. You're my perfect, doll."

copyright© 2025 d1etpeps

[ask-whitepearl-and-steven]

Where do you learn to do comics? What books did you read or watch?

That's the answer.

What did I read? Comics.

There wasn't a single video or book or blog that taught me what I needed to know. I have seen GREAT video tutorials and guides, sure. But it's my belief that you can consume COUNTLESS How-To guides ad infinitum (good ones! Useful ones!) and still not get a single useful thing out of them if you don't know how to learn from watching people do what you want to do.

Reading comics can be mindless and fun. You don't have to think a lot when reading comics.

But if you want to MAKE comics, you have to also read comics like you're listening to a lecture. You have to be willing to do the mental brainwork that it takes to understand comics on your own.

You have to read comics like the comic itself is a TEDTalk. You have to look at the pages and, instead of just going "haha, that's cool" ask yourself "Why do I like that panel so much? What makes it POP?"

I don't consider myself a huge comic connoisseur or anything. I haven't read as many comics as some people. I haven't read a great amount of varieties. I read Calvin and Hobbes, and I read manga, and I read Young Avengers, and XKCD and Stand Still Stay Silent, and a lot of Ryan Andrew's works.

And every time I read those comics, I thought 'why are there panels HERE, but no panels THERE?' and 'why is there no text here?' and 'why is this colored, but this isn't?' and I tried to come up with the answer to all of those questions.

I can't recommend guides. They're out there, many of them - great ones, incredible ones. But I can't recommend them.

What I CAN recommend is reading comics.

Comics that expand the panel and push boundaries of what a comic can be:

Comics that have an incredible narrative and a strong sense of theme:

Comics with horror themes that do creepiness and suspense really well through pacing and layout:

Also horror, but with fantastic architecture that teaches you about scale and backgrounds:

And there's, idk, TONS of others! I'm sure others can recommend in the comments. :)

[chuusmuts]

imagine submissive!pathetic!nerd!clingy!boobies obsessed!scaramouche

smut. afab reader, nipple play, fingering, (a little) dirty talk(?), creampie(??), top!reader, probably. not proofread.

idk how to title this so just imagine. also helo ig.

you had a childhood best friend, scaramouche, who was also your roommate and classmate. besides his good looking face, there's really nothing good about him. he's a nerd, the typical one that wears glasses and likes to read books. what's more, he's very submissive and clingy especially toward you. it was almost he had an obsession and was even more needy to you, laying his head on your chest, groping and kneading them.

for instance, you were supposed to be in class, yet here you were in the school's bathroom stall, sitting on his lap while he's seated on the closed toilet lid. he was clutching onto your breasts tightly, nuzzling into them as he whined and whimpered, refusing to let you go and mumbling about how soft you were. scaramouche pouted and clung tighter to your body, nuzzling into your breasts with a soft whine. "no.. i don't wanna go to stupid class... I just want to stay here with you forever..."

his fingers kneaded and squeezed at the soft mounds as he buried his face between them, inhaling your scent deeply. the nerdy boy seemed so lost in his own little world, completely ignorant of the importance of attending lessons. "mmmm your boobies are so warm and comfy... this is way better than any boring lecture..." scaramouche mumbled between nuzzles, his glasses slightly fogging up from the close contact as he made no move to let you go.

the bathroom was almost empty. it was the perfect place since no one but the two of you go to that bathroom. to other people, he appeared as an innocent boy trying to act all cute around you, but in reality, it's just his way of being possessive. he was so needy and greedy for your attention that he would ditch classes just to be with you, knowing that you'll let him get away with it.

scaramouche's fingers deftly worked open a few buttons of your uniform blouse, exposing your cleavage to his hungry gaze and touch as he whimpered. his pale cheeks were flushed and his breathing heavy as he pant softly against your skin. "but you promised me to go to class today.." taking off his glasses, you wiped off the fog with your sleeve and placed them back on his nose before stroking his hair, stirring up scaramouche to melt into your touch, and purring softly. he nuzzled into your hand like a needy kitten who crave more affection.

the way you pat him and stroke his hair so gently, the way you're being so nice to him even though he's being unreasonable.. they all turned him on so much as precum started leaking on the tip of his dick, dampening his grey pants. he whined loudly, his fingers still clutching at your cleavage as he pant. his face is flushed deep red, eyes glossy with lust behind his glasses.

"b-but I don't care... i just want to be with you..." he mumbled out between breaths, squirming in his seat. scaramouche's other hand moved down to palm at the growing bulge in his pants, letting out a soft moan. "mmmnh... you feel so good, y/n... i can't help myself around you..." his hips buck up slightly, grinding against your core through layer of clothes as his arousal continued to leak out, soaking through the fabric.

"nghh... y- your hands feels nice, don't ever stop..." he said, more to himself, the words came out in a breathy whisper, his voice low and husky with desire. his fingers pinched and tugged at your nipples through your uniform, sending jolts of pleasure through your sensitive body. in his fucked up mind, scaramouche thinks it's perfectly okay to miss classes as long as he gets to be alone with his you. you sighed defeatedly, half because of his behaviour, half because of you, yourself were starting to get aroused.

"scaramouche, scaramouche." you squeezed your eyes shut before calling him out who's still whimpering and moaning against your soft breasts. gently, you cupped his face and brought it up to look at you. there was a visible pout on his flushed face and his hair was all disheveled from all the nuzzling. "how about this? one round." you suggested. "one round, and we go to class together. and after class finished, we do another round?" you held out a pinky finger, trying to make a deal with him. you didn't want to miss another class and received a warning letter from the stupid professor.

scaramouche bit his lip and looked up at you with big puppy dog eyes. he squirmed in your lap, his arousal straining against his pants desperately. as much as he wanted to refuse you and ditch the class just to spend time with you, the deal sounded too good to be real. "o- one round... and then class... and then another after?" he repeated slowly as if trying to wrap his lust-addled mind around the offer. scaramouche's fingers twitched, his grip on your boobies grew tighter, causing you to whine in pain.

without thinking twice, he nodded eagerly, latching onto your outstretched pinky with his own. "okay, deal.." a wide, excited grin spread across his flushed face. "mmmnh... hurry y/n... i need you..." scaramouche whined impatiently, already wiggling his hips against you. his glasses are nearly fogged over again completely and his eyes were filled with desire. he looked utterly debauched already, and you've barely even started. you shifted off of his lap, and scaramouche's hands moved to fumble with the zipper of his pants, desperate to free his throbbing erection. more precum was leaking steadily now, leaving a noticeable big wet spot on the fabric.

meanwhile, you slid down your panties and pulled your skirt until it reached your thighs, enough to expose your glistening pussy. as his leaking erection sprung free from his pants, you unbuttoned your shirt completely and unclasped your bra before hanging them on the door handle. sitting on his lap, you let him bury himself deep inside your fluttering core while he let out a sharp gasp. his hands immediately flew to grip your hips, clinging to you desperately as he started thrusting upwards in earnest. "mmh come here.." you murmured, stroking his nape.

he began moving his hips upwards in unison with your downward thrusts, driving the entirety of his thick member up inside you, every thrust came along with a pathetic whimper as his thick shaft plunging deep into your welcoming cunny. the tight heat enveloping him triggered sparks along his spine. "mmh... that's a good boy.. i got you, darlin'" you praised him as you hugged his head to your breasts once again and scaramouche nearly lost it on the spot. the sight of your bare breasts and the way your tight pussy gripping him tightly was driving him wild, he almost cum on the spot. it was pitiful, he knew, but he didn't care. "haaahh... y-your boobies, your cunt... so damn perfect..." he buried himself between the pillowy mounds, motorboating and nuzzling into them with desperate enthusiasm.

"ahhhnn... nghh, y- y/n... so hot and wet... mmmnh!" the nerdy boy whimpered, panting heavily as sparks of pleasure shoot up his spine with each movement. he could barely think straight, lost in the incredible sensation of your fluttering walls gripping him tightly. your hips worked frantically, bucking down, enveloping his thick shaft over and over as lewd squelching noises fill the small bathroom stall, echoing obscenely off the tiled walls. his fingers dig into your soft skin resulting red marks to left behind.

your tight heat milked his cock mercilessly as scaramouche's movements grew erratic, you could feel his cock twitched inside you, his balls drawing up tight, ready to explode at any moment. your breasts quivered and bounced delightfully against his eager mouth, providing an erotic symphony of soft slapping sounds that drove him wild. bringing his head closer to your face, your hand slid up to wrap around his throat lightly, squeezing just enough to make his breathing difficult and he couldn't help but let out a deep groan. "come on, don't cum yet. you don't want this to end early, do you?" you breathed, trying to hold back your moams as a wicked smile formed on your face, licking your lips while you tightened your grip around him.

he loved how you're always gentle with him but switched 360° and became dominant when you're fucking him, it makes him hard it hurts, and every time, he would surrender himself to you completely. but the stimulation was just too intense, your slick pussy milking his throbbing shaft for all its worth. your grinding and the feel of your velvety walls squeezing his aching cock had scaramouche mewling. hand still around his throat, you pulled him in for a rough kiss as you shoved your tongue down his throat and scaramouche moaned desperately into the kiss, his tongue immediately and eagerly tangling with yours. the hand around his throat had him lightheaded, adding to the dizzying pleasure coursing through his veins.

he'd never been able to last long with you, your dominance and the sheer ecstasy of being inside you always pushed him to the brink embarrassingly fast. "haaahh... c-can't... nghh! too good...!" scaramouche babbled incoherently between kisses, his hips still moving erratically as his cock jerked inside your tight heat. his hands roamed all over your body, groping and kneading greedily at your soft curves, fingers pinching and tugging at your erected nipples, sending jolts of pleasure-pain straight to both of your core. the combined sensations had him seeing stars, his impending orgasm building rapidly at the base of his spine.

"p-please... m-mercy... ahhh... g- gonna... nnngghh..." scaramouche warned breathlessly, struggling to breathe and his face screwed up in concentration. you could feel his cock twitched inside you, clearly fighting to hold back his release. his fingers dug into your soft flesh, fondling and stroking as you sucked greedily at his lower lips while he sucked your top one. in mid of making out, you unfastened his uniform, letting it fall to the floor before brushing your thumbs against his nipples teasingly, causing him to mewl and moan into your mouth.

the sight of scaramouche's eyes listing focus, mouth hanging open, and drool leaking from the corner of his mouth as he lost himself in the sensations made your flustered, your heart fluttering as your heart beat faster. it made your fingers pinched his nipples and twisted them so deliciously, he shuddered and arched into your touch, a drawn-out moan spilling from his lips. something felt different— the kisses were frantic, desperate than before, your mind became vague. it's intense and intimate as both you and him were completely clouded with lust.

"ahhnghh... y- y/n..." he whimpered desperately as the last of his self-control slipping away, his cock throbbed and pulsed inside your tight heat, the stimulation rapidly pushing him past the point of no return. scaramouche's eyes fluttered open, glazed over with lust and adoration. he gazed up at you, his breath heavy, completely at your mercy. you crashed your mouths together once again, the kiss desperate and hungry.

"want... need... mmnnh... love you..." scaramouche mumbled between sloppy kisses, completely consumed by his intense feelings and the all-encompassing pleasure. he could feel his orgasm surging forward, his balls drawing up tight. with a final, choked cry, scaramouche surrendered himself to the blissful release. his cock erupted deep inside you, pumping stream after stream of hot, thick seed into your fluttering depths. the aftermath got him trembling and writhing under you as he came, his eyes rolling back in sheer ecstasy, almost seeing stars. the sensation of his molten essence flooding your insides pushed you closer to the edge as well, your walls clamping down rhythmically to milk him for every last drop as you moaned loudly.

all he could manage to do at the moment was breathed hardly against your neck, with lust and contentment. his sweaty skin pressed against yours and he peppered your neck gently, hoping that you wouldn't go just yet. but his wish went unfilled as you pulled away, your slick walls slipping off his softening member, a flood of your combined fluids gushing out, dripping down onto his thighs and the bathroom floor and he missed you already. "come on, time's up. get ready to go to class." you said, trying to catch your breath while in the process of wearing your bra. scaramouche whined in protest and immediately grabbed a hold of your arm, trying to pull you back, his voice filled with need. "w-wait... don't go... stay a little longer..." he looked up at you with big, pleading eyes, hoping to convince you to extend your intimate encounter.

you stared at him with the same look before bending down and stroking his head using your free hand. "another round after this class, remember?" a small smile spread across your face. "or do you not want that? you did a good job holding this time, i might give you an extra reward later, you know." grabbing his jaw, you pulled him for a quick kiss before continuing to wear your uniform. scaramouche cheeks flushed deeply at the mention of another potential reward, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. he nodded eagerly, the promise of more intimate time with you was more than enough motivation for him to be a good boy.

"y- yeah... i'll be a good boy... i want it, i want you..." he agreed shyly and reluctantly, nuzzling into your touch and desperately hoping that the lesson will pass quickly so he could have you all to himself again. scaramouche stood on shaky legs, putting his uniform around his slender, pale torso. he took a moment to adjust his glasses and smooth down his messy hair, trying to compose himself before heading to class with you, already craving your touch once more.

[aleskie]

hey idk if you heard the song jonny or the reprise version by faye webster yet but idk i just got this fic idea wherein oscar wasn't just ready for a relationship or its the other way around.. idk just hurt me 😭

I LOVE THIS SONG!!! It's on my crash out playlist HAHAHA This is a lil unedited btw I wrote it in one go and well....here it is!! I hope u like it :>>>

DID YOU EVER EVEN LOVE ME? | Oscar Piastri x Reader

WARNINGS: None. Just. idk it's sad i guess...

The room is tense—air so thick it clings to your skin, somehow warmer despite the usual cold London breeze. The white walls of the apartment stretch around you, casting long, inky shadows, leaving little room for light. The silence is deafening, louder than the hum of traffic below, pressing in on you from all sides.

It’s been your apartment for a month now. Your own space. Something most people would celebrate—throw a housewarming party, invite friends over, fill the rooms with laughter. But for you, it’s been a reminder. An empty echo of everything you’ve lost.

It makes you question everything. Your choices. Your worth. The very foundation of who you are.

You think that’s what love does to people. It breaks them. Leaves them raw. You try to pray sometimes, whispering into the dark, hoping some deity—any deity—might be listening.

Some nights, you ask for revenge, for some cosmic retribution to make him feel the weight of the pain he left you with. Other nights, you just beg to feel nothing at all, to be numb, to let the emptiness take over so the ache would finally stop.

Sometimes you ask for him back.

They say love is patient. Kind. It trusts, hopes, perseveres. And for a time, it was—it did. For a time, love was stolen kisses in hidden corners, hushed phone calls on nights you were apart, midnight screenings of obscure films, hands clasped tight in the bitter cold, just to keep each other warm.

A knock at the door breaks you from your thoughts. Sharp. Unmistakable.

It’s him.

You knew he'd come—you’d read the message over and over, the words burned into your mind. He was coming to get his things. You’d cried yourself to sleep last night, knowing this moment would come.

And now it has.

"You have a key," you tell him as you pull the door open, stepping aside to let him in.

"It's your space," he says simply. "I didn't want to impose."

This is our space, you want to tell him. This is our home. 

But the words lodge in your throat like splinters. Instead, you turn away, walking toward the kitchen counter where the last of his things sit packed away—boxes filled with the remnants of a life that, not too long ago, felt unshakable.

You hand one over, your fingers brushing his.

You hate it. The fire that still flickers beneath your skin when he touches you. The way your body betrays you, how your heart still trips over itself, clinging to some fragile, stupid hope. That this is a mistake. That he’ll realize it, take it all back, and come home.

But he doesn’t. He turns to leave, silent and sure, just like he did that night—the night he decided you weren’t worth staying for.

"Why?" The word slips out before you can stop it, the weight of it filling the room. "Why are you doing this to me?"

Your voice is barely above a whisper, but he hears you. Of course, he does.

He pauses, shoulders tense.

Tears blur your vision, hot and unwelcome, but you refuse to let them fall. You won’t give him that. You won’t let him see you break.

He turns slowly, meeting your gaze. "I don’t know what you want me to say."

"Anything." Your voice shakes. "Literally anything."

He exhales, a quiet, tired sound, rubbing the back of his neck the way he always does when he’s searching for the right words. Or when he knows there aren’t any.

"I didn’t want it to be like this.” His voice is low, careful, like he’s stepping over shattered glass. "This isn’t easy for me either. I…" He exhales, voice softening. "I never wanted to hurt you."

"But you did."

"I’m sorry,” he whispers.

"You walked away, Oscar," you say, the words trembling but firm. "You left, and you didn’t think I’d be hurt?"

"I didn’t walk away," he says after a beat. "I just—" He sighs, shaking his head. "You wanted things I couldn’t give you."

“I wanted things that you promised me!” The tears fall, and it feels like you’ve lost, like your very heart has betrayed you. “You said you wanted me—a family, a home. You said you loved me!”

“I do!" His voice is sharp, insistent.

"Then why?"

He falls silent, the weight of the question pressing between you. When he finally speaks, his voice is quieter. “I’ve worked my entire life for this. To get that seat. To win. I—” He looks at you then, and it’s the worst part—the way his gaze still holds that tenderness, that warmth, the one you’ve memorized like a scripture, a prayer. The one that makes you hope, even now. “It’s my dream.”

“You said I was your dream.”

“We were seventeen," he breathes. "What did we know then?”

“I knew I loved you.” The sob rips through you, raw and helpless. “Fuck, I still love you.”

His face twists, pained. “You think I don’t?” His voice is gentle. Soft. Guilty. “You think I don’t regret it?”

For a long moment, it’s just silence. The space between you stretching, breaking, unraveling like the seams of something that was never meant to last.

Finally, you whisper, the words barely holding together—fragile, afraid.

“Oscar…did you ever even love me?”

He doesn’t answer right away. And maybe that’s the answer. Maybe he did. Once. When love was simple and young, when life hadn’t wedged itself between you. When dreams were still dreams, untouched by sacrifice, and the future was some distant thing you had all the time in the world to figure out.

Maybe he’s right and he still does. Just not enough.

Not enough to stay.

He takes a breath, slow and measured, like he’s been holding it in for too long. Then he shifts the box under his arm, adjusting his grip like it’s heavier than it should be.

“Goodbye, Y/N.”

And just like that, he turns.

Walks to the door.

Opens it.

Leaves.

The sound of it clicking shut echoes through the room, louder than it should. Louder than it has any right to be.

You stand there, staring at the empty space where he stood just moments ago, waiting. For something—anything. For him to come back. To say he made a mistake. To tell you this isn’t the end. Or at the very least, to give you some kind of answer, some final piece to help you understand where it all went wrong.

But there’s nothing.

Only silence.

A silence he will never hear.

[strwberri-milk]

hiii

idk if you’ve done this yet

but can you do the Lnds boys taking care of a sick reader? I got the flu and it’s not fun 😭

ty ily -😼

Zayne/Sylus/Caleb? Amazing to have by your side when you're sick. You just give a general description of your symptoms and he's off to the store, buying you medicine and getting you some treats for when you're no longer sick. Yep - he doesn't indulge you when you're feeling well, focusing on making you foods that are both good for you and easy for you to digest.

He also condemns you to bedrest and tells you to focus on sleeping. Your well being is his priority and unfortunately that means you're stuck eating boring food, doing boring things, and sleep in your boring bed because he's too busy to stay with you. He tried - he definitely tried - but the only one who's successful at getting out of work is Zayne because he's an actual liability to his patients. Your lover is far too important at work for Sylus and Caleb to be able to stay at home but he will manage to swing it somehow, convincing people to just hold off on the in person stuff he has to do for now and just call him when they need things.

He is careful not to get sick as well, not wanting to get ill then be unable to take care of you. Even if he did manage to get sick he'd just end up ignoring himself and focus all his attention on you, making sure that you feel better before he even thinks about it.

Xavier sucks at cooking so trying to get homemade meals that focus on making you feel better would not work super well. They also don't taste great but thankfully, you really can't tell because of how sick you are. He can at least keep the home clean and take care of himself. He also knows enough to pick out the best medicine and stuff for you so you can get well soon.

His immune system is strong so he isn't too worried about getting sick after spending time with you. He won't really get sick as long as it's not like some wild super bug so he's able to spend a lot of time with you as you rest and relax without worrying. You're glad you don't need to think about that either, able to just spend time with him.

Rafayel whines at first when he thinks you've just got a tickle but when he realise you're actually sick he'll confine you to bed in an overly protective manner. He doesn't want you getting sicker and also just wants to make sure you're comfortable in your time of need. He'll cook for you and spoil you with attention, refusing to leave you alone despite the fact that he's very much so going to get sick from it.

The two of you end up in bed miserable together, but at least you're together. You just kinda relax and take things slow, ordering a bunch of takeout and trying to remember what medicine to take and when. Tons of joined naps - but they're gonna be kinda gross and sweaty if you've both got fevers and stuff.

[thevoicefromanotherworld]

"ALL YOU HAVE TO DO IS SAY IT, DOLL"

I WROTE ANOTHER FIC WITH BUCKY

This time with the enemies to lovers dinamic, cause I love it so much and I love it more if its with him lol (idk why, it is what it is)

I hope you like it!

WARNING: EXPLICIT SMUT UNDER THE CUT

It was the wedding of one of Tony's best friends, and for some strange reason, he'd invited the entire team to the ceremony.

You frowned when he pointed out the ENTIRE team, since that would mean you'd have to put up with the super soldier once again.

You and Bucky weren't getting along.

You argued nonstop; if he yelled, you yelled louder, and if he shot farther, you had to do it even more.

Your bad relationship reached such a point that Tony decided to separate you on missions, since you spent more time arguing than focusing on the mission, and that was something that simply couldn't happen.

You opened your closet, where you had several outfits you could wear for the occasion.

You were trying to choose one when there was a knock at the door. You opened it and it was Natasha, already dressed in a beautiful red dress and with elegant makeup.

"I just came to see how you were doing," he said, looking you up and down. "I can see you're not doing so well."

"It's not that, it's just that…" you snorted. "I don't want to go, Nat," you complained. "I don't understand why Tony's friend invited us all to his damn wedding."

Natasha stared at you for a few moments, until she saw the reason reflected in your eyes.

"I know you don't want to because of him," she said, "but we hardly ever get invited to these kinds of events, and even if Tony's millionaire friend doesn't know you, they'll both appreciate your presence," she encouraged you. "Tony is aware of how much these kinds of social events cost you, and even more so if we count on the "what if" factor," she said it in a way that made you smile. "Come on, make yourself pretty and show him that you don't mind his presence," she blurted out. "He can't be waiting all over you forever."

You thought about it for a few moments before nodding.

"You're right," you declared. "I'm going to get dressed."

"That's exactly what I wanted to hear!" The Widow smiled. "I'll wait for you out here."

"Nat," you whispered before she opened the door, "thank you."

"What are friends for?" she replied, returning the gesture.

You looked over your clothing options and decided on one of the outfits, which you quickly put on.

You put on your makeup naturally and, after grabbing a jacket just in case, left the room, where your friend was waiting for you, just as she had told you.

She looked you up and down for a moment and made the universal gesture of perfection with her hand, making you blush.

"Don't do that," you complained. "You know I'm really bad at accepting compliments."

"Well, you'll have to get used to it, because I'm sure you'll get a lot of them tonight," she winked at you as you walked to the garage to pick up one of Tony's cars.

"Don't tell me that, because I'm capable of going and changing into a tracksuit," you said, making him laugh. "Don't laugh, it's the truth!"

"I know," she murmured. "I'm laughing because I know you'd be capable."

She put the key in the ignition and started the car to drive to the ceremony. When you arrived and Nat left the keys with the valet at the entrance, you saw several people entering the venue, ready for the ceremony.

Your gaze traveled around the place, until it rested on Steve and Thor, who were talking animatedly with Tony and the man you assumed was the groom.

"We should go introduce ourselves," Natasha said, taking your arm.

Before you could refuse, she'd already dragged you there and introduced you with a wide smile.

"…and this is Y/N," she said. The man smiled at you kindly, nodding his head.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Y/N," he murmured, turning to the priest. "If you'll excuse me, I think I'm wanted."

"Of course, my friend. We wouldn't want to keep you on your big day,"

Tony said, smiling at him until he left.

"I know he's a friend of mine, but sometimes I wish he'd just shut up, at least for five minutes."

"I can't say the same," Steve intervened. "You know Buck."

The mere mention of his name made all your hair stand on end, which the blond noticed.

"Sorry, Y/N, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

"Relax, it's okay," you smiled reassuringly. "Even if I don't like him, people are still going to say his name anyway." You laughed. "He almost sounds like Voldemort."

"Who?" he asked, and this time it was Tony who intervened.

"Another thing you missed that you need to put on your list," he said, and automatically, Steve pulled it out from inside his suit jacket. "The Harry Potter movies," Tony named, as Steve wrote it down.

"One more name," Rogers murmured. "I have to catch up as soon as possible."

"Little by little," you said. "You've missed a lot. Don't try to watch them all at once, otherwise you won't enjoy any of them."

Steve nodded in agreement with what you had said. It was then that his gaze rested on a spot behind your head, then looked back at you again.

"It's him, right?" – you asked in a whisper, and he nodded slowly with a grimace of disgust on his face – it's okay, pretend I'm not here.

When Bucky reached the group, he greeted everyone there except you, to whom he dedicated a look from top to bottom.

If your relationship were any different, you'd even say he was giving you a thorough once-over, but given your past history, you knew full well he was just picking holes in your outfit to make you look ridiculous in front of everyone.

"Y/N," he said, "You've decided to ditch your sweats for a day," he laughed, "It seems like a miracle."

"And there it is," you thought upon hearing his first sarcastic comment of the afternoon.

"Wow," he observed, "You've ditched your usual sweats for the wedding." He gave an amused smile. "How thoughtful of you."

"You, on the other hand, are still the same," you said disdainfully.

"While you're greasing your arm, you might as well do the same to your brain, see if it starts working properly."

The tension was palpable between you, and just as Steve and Nat were about to interrupt, the priest announced that the ceremony would soon begin.

You weren't much of a wedding fan, but you had to admit this one had been good.

The decor was elegantly arranged, and the guests weren't complete jerks, so you could say you enjoyed yourself.

Until you were shown into the dining room where the meal was to be held.

You wandered around the table looking for the sign with your name on it, and when you saw who your companion was sitting next to you, you thought it was a practical joke.

Later, you would find out that Tony had put you together on purpose, to see if you could finally resolve your differences and stop arguing as much as you normally did.

"Oh, great," he snorted when he saw you. "I'm supposed to sit here," he said resignedly, pausing to look at you for a brief moment. "You look good."

"Careful, Bucky," you warned. "If you keep saying that kind of thing, I'll even think you like me."

"I have no problem admitting that you look beautiful even if I don't like you," he said, making your eyes widen in surprise. He clicked his tongue as he shook his head from side to side.

"Just… accept the compliment, okay?" He huffed, annoyed. You nodded.

"Okay," you murmured with a nod.

He sat down next to you and began talking animatedly to the person on his left, while you took the opportunity to observe the impressive white and yellow decor.

The place was beautiful; it seemed as if I had suddenly arrived first.

That's when you realized he was looking at you.

You quickly moved your head towards him and blushed at the way his green eyes sparkled when they fell upon yours.

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Like, princess?" he whispered, your cheeks flushing red.

"Don't call me that," you blurted out. He nodded, an amused smile spreading across his lips.

He looked at you for a few moments in silence before speaking again.

"It's a shame we hate each other," he commented casually. "You have to admit we'd make a good couple." He tilted his head to observe your facial expression. "Don't look at me like that."

"How are you so sure of that?" you questioned. He nodded slowly.

"I just am," he replied simply, raising an eyebrow. "What's wrong, doll? You can't stand me, can you?"

You felt his metallic hand on your leg under the table, moving up to your knee.

"I can feel you trembling under my touch," he whispered. "That's hate, isn't it?" he inquired, but you were unable to respond, as all your attention was on his hand. "You hate doing this under the table in front of everyone, don't you?" he whispered, tracing the bone of your knee with his fingertips. "It's a shame you're wearing stockings," he murmured. "I would have liked to feel your skin."

"Are you doing this to distract me?" –you managed to ask when he slid his fingers down again-

“Of course I am,” he smiled, amused by your suffering. “If you want me to stop, just tell me, princess,” he whispered. “Tell me to stop, and you’ll discover how good I can make you feel right here, right now.” When you didn’t respond, he moved his fingers up to your groin, making you shiver with anticipation. “What if I touch you… here?” he questioned.

You straightened your back in an attempt to keep everyone from noticing what was happening down there.

“Now, baby, remind me how much you hate me while I massage this pussy over your stockings.” He growled, trapping it between his index finger and thumb, slowly making you lose your mind.

His long, masculine fingers stimulated you so hard you thought you might cum. Your lips parted in a shaky gasp. "More," you whispered, "please."

"No, princess," he shook his head. "These small, slow circles are all you're going to get," he decreed. "We don't want to draw attention to ourselves, right?" You nodded, a slight shiver coming over you, making him smile. "Was that a chill?" He murmured, focusing his gaze on you. "You can keep ranting all night about how much you hate me," he whispered.

"Your body is betraying you, baby," he blurted out, pointing out the obvious. "You want this desperately, and you want it with me."

You grabbed his wrist under the table, causing him to jerk his head up toward you.

"Do you want me to stop, doll?" he whispered. "All you have to do is say it," he whispered. "Do it, and we'll pretend this never happened," he said. "Admit it. You've been wanting to take all your hatred and frustration out on me for a while. Maybe you thought if we had sex, this would all be fine."

That comment was the trigger for you to quickly get up and leave the room.

The heels of your shoes clicked against the elegant floor as you listened to Bucky apologize for you and let the others know they'd be back in time for the food.

"Really? Are you running away from me?" he asked, as if he couldn't believe it. "Where are you going?"

You scanned the doors on either side of the hallway you were walking down. You opened one at random, and he walked in behind you, flashing a smug smile.

"Of course you had to find the only empty room in…"

He couldn't continue speaking as you crashed your lips against his desperately, even anxiously.

You needed him so much you couldn't think of anything else. You hated him, yes, but at the same time you needed him to fuck you until you forgot the reason you were doing it in the first place.

His eyes widened when you pulled away, before he placed his hands gently on your waist.

"Are you sure?" he asked.

Your gazes locked tightly, and when you nodded this time, he was the one who leaned in to kiss you.

His trimmed beard tickled your chin, but you didn't care, not when he was kissing you like this, like he was the last oxygen mask available during a zombie apocalypse.

You brought your hands to his chest and tugged at his tie, making him laugh against your lips.

He lifted you easily and sat you down on the table there. You wrapped your legs around him as he moved to kiss your neck.

You tilted your head to give him better access. Then he moved his hands to the straps of your dress.

"Can I pull this down, please?" he added, looking at you pleadingly.

You nodded, and his gaze fell on your collarbone, which he bent down to kiss, leaving a small bite on your shoulder that made you gasp.

You quickly got rid of his pants, and because you were so wet, he quickly slid inside you.

"You feel better than I imagined, baby," he growled, thrusting against you, reaching your depths with a single thrust. "Take it, doll," he panted. "Take it like the good girl I know you are," he whispered in your ear. "Are you going to be a good girl for me, princess?"

"Yes," you panted, digging your nails into his back. "Please, Buck…"

"Cum for me, doll," he growled, and that was all it took.

Later, as you were getting dressed, he gave you a sidelong glance accompanied by an amused smirk.

"This means you don't hate me so much anymore, right?"

You huffed and tossed him his pants so he could put them on so you could head back to the rest of the guests.

"Shut up, Barnes," you said, mimicking his gesture.

[softbyspoiled]

Okay so this post is going to be a little all over the place so bear with me. When I started this blog, it was with my feeder so I could start dipping my toes into the world of feederism & see how I liked it.

I was very open from the jump, and it wasn’t only the sexual intimacy my partner and I unlocked through it- but also using it as a means of catharsis. I’ve struggled with body dysmorphia, restrictive eating, and obsessive thoughts for a long, long time- and this has truly shifted how I view and appreciate my body.

It’s become a safe space to spill my guts just as much as I fill them up (lol.)

I’m alone right now, physically and emotionally it feels. I’ve run into a karmic loop, and it’s hard because I know the journey ahead is going to be tedious, sad, brutal, lonely at times… but the trade off of thisdiscomfort could be a catalyst for some major growth.

The thing is, is I’ve already gone through a lot of growing pains. And I mean LOT’s ya’ll- my record is 😮‍💨 embarrassing… and pretty jarring. But I look at how I seemingly landed on my feet time and time again… And all those times, counting my lucky stars, comparing myself to a cat with 9 lives.. how about instead of taking it as blessing of invincibility, what if I actually thanked the divine order with action, and redirection? And did it when I was down bad, with nothing to lose but everything to gain…?

Theres a part of myself that’s convinced that there’s a very bad person inside of me who needs to be kicked down, and murdered. Because I am an alcoholic there feels like there’s an intense duality of character. I feel like I need to shut her (the alcoholic) the fuck up. But the duality of “that” version of me isn’t so distinct. That is very much just me. And because I want to get rid of her so bad- she comes back at me full swing. She wants all the attention from me, and when no attention is paid she will do whatever it takes to get it back to her.

I said I would take my time and get to know her, and I never did. And now I’m forcing myself to sit with these parts of myself that I never had to before because I always reached for validation from everyone but myself. My friend said it to me simply today, and it boils down to this, a part of me just hates myself THAT much. And people always want to groan on about self love and its importance, but let me tell you… it’s important. You stunt yourself, and the lack of self love will come across as only lack of love and consideration for others because a part of you is always at war within.

And SO! Idk what my journey on here is going to look like. Quite honestly. My feeder and I are not together, and the stuffing, loving, intimate connection part of this kink has sort of left my life. And coming on here is something I guess I’ve held onto.

But I cherish the unconditional love I see on here. I love being able to speak freely, and somewhat anonymously I guess… and this kink is very much real for everyone here but I know at the end of the day we’re all also humans so maybe some of this other stuff I’m rambling about resonates. (Maybe not, and if not I’m sorry I wish I had some good content I could pump your way.)

This is me post run, and pre dinner. I’m having like a noodle, beef stir fry thing.😋 And I know in about 2/3 hours I’ll be scurrying into the kitchen for one of the donuts I brought home from work. (I HOPE! Because if I’m being honest, my appetite was actually good yesterday and the day before but is declining again as it pretty much has this whole month.)

Yikes IDK guys. I’m sad, but I’m not giving up. 🔐

[echolynn13]

Okay, I finally got to watch today's video, so here's the not-quite-live commentary/chaotic highlights post I promised about it :)

Not entirely video related, but I love that as usual, I see a bunch of people in the comments saying "Woah I never knew AJ stood for Alexander Jeremy" while I'm here like. I don't think I've ever heard any of them refer to Tom as Thomas before this intro. Do they normally introduce him that way and I just never noticed or-?

Eve is an icon, love the vibes going from "oh fuck" in response to "what is your name?" to her pulling a "your mum" on Sam. Got her confidence back real quick there

Not to mention the fact they actually used 'your mum' as the stimulus-

"My mum is lovely" *5 seconds later* "You ring the bell, I don't want to" Something is telling me her mom isn't that lovely

AJ saying the name Martha, trying to figure out who it would make sense for Martha to be, and then giving up by saying his character panicked. Love it

"She's a massive *bleep*" Censors aren't allowing me to hear Tom say 'bitch' and I won't stand for it

I saw a comment say it as a joke, but it really was funny how Sam kept saying change until Luke made them a straight couple (calling Tom's character 'Suzanne') lmao

Darren: "Listen, I'm gonna win her over, okay?" Suzanne, about to sob: "yeah-?"

The whole coming onto Suzanne's mom bit was gold "He's coming onto me" "Sorry I'm panicking" "Why am I coming onto my mom??" "You're panicking!"

"I wish I had his muscles.." "Oh you'll catch up with me, don't worry" Tom you're so fucking funny-

The slight hesitation from Luke at the 'men' suggestion, followed by all of the other three being like "Fuck yeah, let's complain about men" is so good and lowkey reminds me of Tom's vs everyone else's reaction to the Evil-Make-A-Wish-Kid title

"Because you have one thing on your mind" "Yeahhh" "Podcasts" "🤨"

"Take 2 steps towards your progress" is the new "Today embarks on change"

Legendary Letters/Time Warp crossover we didn't know we needed

Words can't describe how much I expected and wanted the last line to be "Now you are our bitch" goddamnit-

Sam entering the scene, eating a large block of cheese while moaning, and waiting for another character to interrupt him, only for AJ to fuck it up immediately upon doing so, this is what we love to see

Something about Sam going "I love cheese :D" makes me very happy

"No one wants me to say" He's right, I absolutely do not want him to say what's so different, not while knowing SFTH's history with dairy products

I know everyone's been saying this, but yeah Sydney is definitely cosplaying as Sam in this video and I respect that

Luke's character quickly becoming problematic throughout Pillars is great. First he's unfaithful, then he's saying 'gay people' and 'the t-word', and by the end he apparently represents all of the world's problems smh

"I'll just sign this myself and do it in your writing" Heathers: father's will edition

Speaking of him, are we gonna acknowledge that he's trans-? "When I gave birth to you, do you know what I said to your mother?" Because none of the guys mentioned it, which is unlike them

"Daddy, I just want a fucking hug!" The first uncensored 'fuck' in the video!

Tom describing AJ's Tindr profile while AJ tells him to shut the fuck up-

"Sorry Mum!" a necessary apology from Sam, although at this point in his career I feel like it has a lot of ground to cover-

Thought for a second we were gonna get another one of Sam's iconic animal characters. But instead we got a surprise Henry VIII reference??

All in all, good shit as always, though the censorship did throw me off, idk what that's about-

[raileurta]

I need someone knowledge about IDW characters because I want to make a one shot about Miko for whatever reason getting transported in the middle of Megatron's trial in the apex armor and immediately trying to throw hands.

Ultra Magnus is in the middle of reading Megatron's war crimes or something then out of nowhere Miko comes crashing in and breaks the podium. Everyone is immediately on edge and ready to fight but once the dust clears they are all very confused.

Who or what is that!???

She gets up and sees Megatron and this weird place so she assumes he has something to do with it. So the situation plays out like:

Miko: Ugh, where a- YOU!!! 🫵

Megatron confused: Me??

Miko: What the frag is going on and who are all these people? Magnus?

Ultra Magnus: Identify yourself creature.

Miko: You don't remember me? Dude it's me!

Ultra Magnus: I do not know who you are.

Miko: What's going on?! Why does everyone look so different???

Miko to Megatron: WHAT DID YOU DO?!

Megatron: I didn't do anything?????

Miko: You might look different but you're the same old buckethead who tried taking over Earth!

Megatron: W-hat?? What's Earth?

Miko then punches Megatron in the face and tries to destroy him. She's torn off by multiple bots. Then idk I don't know what happens next. I don't know how these characters would react or what they do.

[batmanlovesnirvana]

THE SHRINK

THOMAS SHELBY X FEM!READER

synopsis : After constant pressure from Polly, Tommy finally gives in and goes to see a therapist … though he’s not happy about it.

A/N : idk what to think of this ☹️ english isn’t my first language so sorry for any mistakes

"GO SEE HER, THOMAS. YOU NEED HELP."

The hell he did.

Thomas Shelby didn’t need a fucking shrink.

He didn’t need some doctor picking apart his brain like it was a puzzle missing half its pieces. He had his own cure, neatly tucked beside his bed, waiting for him every night.

A pipe. A flame. A breath. Oblivion.

It was faster. Easier. It made him forget. And it sure as hell didn’t cost him a fortune just to hear some fool tell him what he already knew.

Opium simply didn’t ask questions. It didn’t tell him he was broken. It just worked.

But Polly had a way of getting what she wanted. And when she threatened to take her complaints straight to Campbell ( about the guns, about everything ) he realized she wasn’t bluffing.

So fine. One session. That’s it. No more.

Here he was. Not because he believed in this. Not because he wanted to be here.

But because he had no fucking choice.

And that’s how he ended up here.

The room smelled of roses, wood polish, and paper.

It was modest, no, functional. Homey, too.

Not luxurious, but not rundown either.

The kind of place meant to put a man at ease without making him comfortable. The walls were lined with books, the sort of titles Thomas Shelby had no patience for.

A neat desk sat in front of a window, its surface practically empty, save for a lamp and a single stack of papers. In the center of the room, two red-cushioned chairs faced each other, positioned like opponents in a quiet war.

Tommy had been in rooms like this before.

Police stations. Intelligence offices. Places where men sat behind desks and asked questions they already knew the answers to. He didn’t trust this one either.

Even if Polly had sent him.

The woman sitting across from him was young to be telling people what was wrong with them.

He had expected someone older, sterner, with glasses perched on their nose, asking him about his deceased mother and cursed life.

Instead, you were composed, patient. Watching.

"Mr. Shelby," you greeted him.

He didn’t return the courtesy, just leaned back in the chair, one ankle resting over his knee. His cigarette sat between his fingers, unlit. He rolled it, eyes flicking across the room.

No clocks ticking, no visible crosses — nothing that would give away a bias.

"You don’t have to be here if you don’t want to," you said evenly.

He scoffed through his nose. "I don’t want to be here."

"Then why are you?"

He glanced at you properly now, eyes sharp, calculating. He could tell she already knew the answer.

"You know Polly," he said.

"Ah," you nodded, "so she insisted?"

"More like threatened." He exhaled slowly, shifting in the chair. "She’s been on about me talking to someone since we got back from France."

A pause.

He could see you weighing the information, deciding how to approach him.

"You did fight in France."

"Everybody did," he said flatly.

You didn’t argue.

Instead, you shifted slightly in your chair, crossing your legs, taking a notebook and pen.

"Did Polly say why she thought you needed to talk to someone?"

He smirked at that, shaking his head. "I imagine you could guess."

"I could," you admitted, "but I’d rather hear it from you."

He studied her now, properly.

He had met a lot of people who wanted to get inside his head; inspectors, lieutenants, officers who didn’t give a fuck about the men they sent to the trenches. But this one was different. You weren't prying.

Not yet.

She was waiting.

When he didn’t answer, you took a different approach.

"Most men who come back from war experience changes in their behavior," you said casually. "Some struggle with sleep. Some feel like they can’t slow down, like they have to keep moving. Some — "

"I sleep just fine," Tommy cut in.

You raised an eyebrow. "Do you?"

He didn’t respond.

Silence stretched between them.

And you let it.

He realized you weren't one of those people who filled the air with noise just to make the other person uncomfortable. You were fine with waiting.

He licked his lips, tapped his unlit cigarette against his knee.

"'Olright then," he said finally. "What do you want me to say?"

"It’s not about what I want. It’s about what you need."

Another scoff. "I don’t need anything."

"I see." You tapped the pen lightly against the notebook, considering him. "Then let’s start simple. Since you’ve been back, what’s the most noticeable change in your life?"

He ran his tongue over his teeth, staring past her now, out the window.

The city had changed. Or maybe he had.

"Things are different," he admitted finally.

"How so?"

"Before we left, everything was... smaller. More predictable." He paused, tilting his head slightly. "Now it’s like everything is moving too fast and too slow at the same time."

"Too slow?" she echoed, intrigued.

"Nothing’s... loud enough." His fingers twitched slightly against the chair. "Not like it was over there."

You watched him closely. "You miss the noise?"

He turned to you then, fully, blue eyes sharp. "You think I do?"

"I don’t assume," you said simply. "But a lot of men who come back struggle with silence. It’s unnatural after years of war."

He gave a short, humorless chuckle. "Yeah, well... it’s not just the noise."

He didn’t elaborate.

You nodded slightly, letting his words settle. "And the fast part?"

His jaw tensed. "People talk more. Ask more questions. Things that used to be simple aren’t anymore. Some days I wake up and it feels like I have to figure out how to do it all over again."

"How to do what?"

He hesitated, rubbing a hand over his jaw. "Be normal, I suppose."

Your expression softened slightly, but you didn’t let sympathy cloud your approach. "And what does normal look like for you?"

Tommy exhaled slowly through his nose.

He should have expected that.

But he didn’t have an answer.

Normal was a house by the cut, Polly at the kitchen table sipping a cup of tea, Arthur throwing a punch to John in the yard, Ada rolling her eyes at both of them. Finn imitating them.

Normal was the factory, the pubs, the streets they grew up on.

Normal was before the war.

And that wasn’t coming back.

No, that was the past.

He shifted, looking at you with that guarded expression he always wore.

"Look," he said finally. "I get why Polly sent me here. But I’m not one of those men who needs fixing."

You studied him for a moment before responding. "I don’t think you’re broken."

That made him pause.

His fingers stopped rolling the cigarette.

You seemed confident, certain. No pity, no softness. Just ... truth.

For the first time in the whole session, he didn’t know what to say.

You leaned forward slightly, meeting his gaze. "But I do think you’re trying to outrun something. And that only works for so long."

Tommy clenched his jaw. "You got all that from one session?"

You gave a small smile. "No, Mr. Shelby. I got that from the way you keep looking at the door."

Silence.

Then, Tommy exhaled, shaking his head with a smirk. "Jesus."

He pushed himself up, straightening his coat. "I think that’s enough for today."

She didn’t try to stop him.

Just closed her notebook, standing as well.

"Will I see you next week?" she asked.

He didn’t answer immediately. Just gave her one last look before heading to the door.

Right before stepping out, he paused.

Then, without turning back, he muttered, "Polly’ll make me."

And then he was gone.

part 2 ??? this is awful

[prettyshittywriting]

"He hit me and it felt like a kiss"

Caitlyn Kiramman x fem reader (angst)

somewhat TOXIC RELATIONSHIP (idk)

like 2k words almost

You and Caitlyn had been together for years. You met at school, falling for her sharp wit and soft heart, and she fell just as hard for you.

For years, she had been the perfect girlfriend—always caring, always spoiling you, always making you feel like the luckiest person on earth.

You had even started talking about marriage. Life felt almost too good to be true.

Until Cassandra Kiramman died.

The end of your relationship wasn’t instant. It came in fragments, slow and agonizing.

It started with Caitlyn spending less time with you—caught up in funeral preparations, looking after her father, trying to fill the impossible void her mother left behind. She came home later than usual and left earlier each morning.

You tried to understand. She had just lost her mother. She was overwhelmed, exhausted, and grieving. You wanted to be there for her.

But no matter how much you reached for her, she kept slipping away.

The nights spent together became scarce. When she did come home, she crashed almost immediately, too tired to talk. The rare moments you got to voice your concerns were met with half-hearted promises—"I’ll take a break soon." she would say, only to be gone again the next morning.

Then she started meeting with Ambessa Medarda.

How you hated that woman.

You could see what she was doing—twisting Caitlyn’s grief into something cold, something dangerous. You tried to warn Caitlyn, tried to tell her that Ambessa was using her, manipulating her into being the perfect soldier.

But Caitlyn defended her. She defended all of it.

Then came the late-night training sessions. The sleepless nights. The plan to gas the Undercity.

One Week Ago

Caitlyn’s study was dimly lit. Blueprints and maps of the Undercity were all across her desk, marked with red ink. X’s and circles outlined her grim plan.

But your eyes were drawn to the vials.

Shimmering green liquid, neatly lined in a wooden case. The Green. A new variant of shimmer. A deadly toxin.

Your stomach twisted.

Caitlyn wanted to use this.

On them.

Your throat was dry as you finally found the strength to speak. "Caitlyn please tell me this isn’t what I think it is."

Across the room, Caitlyn turned to you, her blue eyes dark with exhaustion.

She looked so different from the woman you once knew—the woman you love.

Her posture was stiff, her shoulders squared, like she had already decided she would not be swayed.

"I’m going to do what Piltover should have done years ago." she said. "The Undercity is a breeding ground for filth, for criminals. We let it fester for too long, and now look at what it’s cost us."

You stepped closer, anger bubbling under your skin. "No." you snapped. "You’re not going to act like this is justice. This is revenge, Caitlyn. This is genocide."

Her jaw tensed. "Jinx killed my mother."

Her voice wavered—just slightly—just enough for you to hear the raw wound beneath her fury.

You knew what Jinx had taken from her. You knew how much Caitlyn had loved her mother.

But Caitlyn was looking at the entire Undercity like they all had blood on their hands. Like they all fired the shot that killed Cassandra Kiramman.

"I know she did." you said, voice softer now. "And it was horrible. But punishing an entire city for one person’s crime? Tell me you know that’s not right."

Caitlyn’s expression darkened. "Do I?"

A chill ran through you.

"Every day I spent in the Enforcers, I saw how we tried to fix that place. And every day, they spat in our faces. We gave them mercy, and they took it as weakness. We offered them a future, and they burned it to the ground."

You shook your head. "No. You didn’t ‘offer’ them anything, Cait. Piltover kept them down, kept them desperate. And when people are desperate, they do things they shouldn’t. But that doesn’t mean they deserve to die!"

"You’re too naive." Caitlyn scoffed bitterly. "You think they’re innocent? The same people who build Jinx’s bombs? Who sell shimmer? Who kill Enforcers in the street—"

"Not all of them!" you cried, voice breaking. "There are children down there, Cait. Families. People who just want to survive. Are you seriously telling me they all deserve to die?"

For a moment, something flickered in her eyes. Doubt? Pain? You weren’t sure.

"She’s down there." Caitlyn said, voice tight. "Jinx is down there. And I will find her."

"Then find her." You stepped forward, gripping the edge of her desk. "Find her. Bring her to justice—hell, kill her if you have to. But don’t take innocent lives with her, Caitlyn. Please."

Silence.

Caitlyn’s breath hitched.

"I have to do this."

A lump formed in your throat. "If you do this," you whispered, "I don’t know if I can stand beside you anymore."

Caitlyn inhaled sharply.

And then, without looking at you—"Then go."

Your heart stopped.

Tears burned in your eyes as you turned and left.

And Caitlyn Kiramman was alone in the dark.

Now

She did it.

She gassed the Undercity.

And every night since, she had sent you messages.

Begging you to come home. To talk. To forgive her.

You hated to admit it, but you missed her. The warmth of her arms. The way she smelled. Even the way she would put her cold-ass legs on you in bed just to hear you complain.

So you finally went home.

You didn’t text ahead. It was your home too.

You stepped inside, heart pounding. She wasn’t in the living room, so you headed for the bedroom—

And froze.

There she was. In bed. With Vi.

They hadn’t noticed you yet.

"What the fuck are you doing?" you practically screamed.

Both of them jolted upright. Caitlyn’s face paled.

"Oh, sweetheart, we were just talking about business in the Undercity—"

"Talking about business with Vi in our bed?"

The way she froze told you everything.

Your heart shattered. Your breath came in ragged gasps. "Did you sleep with her?"

Caitlyn looked away.

"Oh my god." Your voice cracked. "You actually did it."

"I made a mistake—"

"A mistake?" You let out a bitter laugh. "You don’t get to call it that. This was a choice."

Caitlyn reached for you. "Please—"

You stepped back. "Don’t."

Her voice cracked. "I can’t lose you."

Tears blurred your vision. "You already did."

And with that, you walked out.

This time, she didn’t chase you.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

bro idek I feel like this started completely different and ended on a whole different note anyway enjoy ig

anyway I am feigning for any Caitlyn Kiramman content. god I love her so fucking much. she's so majestic. I wanna see her evil. I think it's cuz I expected her to be like the devil in s2 but honestly she was way 2 chill. like I was ready to defend her w my life but I barely had 2 cuz she was barely evil.

bro I've been like 2 happy recently so I needed angst to push me down a peg or 2

pls leave mfing requests or you will keep receiving this half assed bullshit cuz j got no mfing ideas!!😡

pls I need something 2 do I will literally write anyone atp! (not children or animals don't be weird)

[alllgator-blood]

I genuinely love the way you write each character. They're all so distinct, and you don't shy away from their vices. And the angst?? I'm absolutely living for it. Genuinely a masterclass for tugging at the heartstrings. It's so visceral that it's just leaving me at the edge of my seat. The Yule comics were absolutely gorgeous. The grief you pulled from your own personal experience has created a marvelous arc detailing just how hard each Bishop was struggling to cope in their own way.

Each stroke you make and letter you type is simply ethereal. Even a silly doodle from you is made with such earnest that it feels like you're just making masterpiece after masterpiece. Seeing you on my feed has me kicking and squealing with absolute delight!

I hope you're doing well, and I can't wait to see more from you! 😊💜✨

This means the world to me, thank you so much!!! The few times my family asks what I've been up to and I talk vaguely about my comics, I'm always met with "??? WHY WOULD YOU MAKE THAT??? WHO WANTS TO READ THAT" and while it sucks to hear or whatever, I prefer to internalize asks like these because THIS is why I draw. YOU GET ME! And anybody that follows this blog gets me as well which is more support than I've had in a long time. Maybe ever??

Sad comics for me have always been THE way I get my feelings out, I'm not so great with words to describe how I feel and it's also hard to capture that feeling with just one picture, therefore...ANGST COMICS! I get hit with that feeling of "this is like deeply personal maybe I should just save this for when I do OC art again" when I make stuff like the yule comic or the one I'm about to post, but idk the bishop family has a fuckin death grip on my heart. They SUCK but they still love each other enough to literally fight to the death on each other's behalf, even if two of them know they won't win. IT'S REALLY GOOD I love them and I feel very fulfilled when I write for them.

I think about those guys all the time and it feels like an honor having other cotl fans see my comics and feel emotions over them. I'd be making these even if nobody saw them, been doing comics for years that nobody has ever seen, but genuinely running this blog and seeing people's feedback has gotten me to wake up earlier than the afternoon just to post/read stuff. Even if sometimes I disappear because I'm terrible at being social, messages like these really do make the amount of time I put into my art 100% worth it. I appreciate you and I hope you're doing well too, thanks for taking the time to send me this!!

[naviwinters]

GR wdc has so much potential to heal this sport!!!

he is genuinely so incredibly talented and also such a unique character that people do not value enough for what he brings to the sport. when George wins, it’s never nonchalant, it’s never ‘well I guess that was a good weekend, boys’. he wants to be the best so so badly and that passion is soo beautiful to see. unlike the mclaren guys (idk what therapist lando has been seeing to make him so incredibly disassociated), he cannot hide how much he CARES and that’s what you need from your athletes - people who would do anything to succeed and who feel the thrill of that victory deep in their bones. and while people call him PR Russell, he genuinely calls out his team all the time in very straight up ways. unlike people like charles who are super avoidant when asked direct questions (side note: if he doesn’t win a wdc this year I’ll genuinely start thinking of him as a devotee who sacrificed his youth to the cult of ferrari) and often have to be pushed (like his many radio outbursts indicate) to say anything deeper than surface level. george takes Mercedes to task - he just does it without being insanely blunt so people criticise him for being a toto lover or whatever.

now onto why Mercedes and George winning is better than other teams:

unlike people like lando who were super beloved and then were hated as soon as they became serious championship contenders, George is already not liked by most people so the only way is up babyy. people are going to see the magic of the Russell Hustle so so soon. plus unlike mclaren, where the championship would definitely be a teammate battle, George would be competing against other teams (best kind of competition) and we’d get to see genuinely good racing against a range of competitors, not just a reiteration of ‘papaya rules’ and ‘but I’m faster!!’ every weekend.

ferrari is the absolute worst like honestly I find myself actively rooting against them just because they technically should be so much more put together and scary as a team but they’ve been such losers for so many years now. like what do you mean you get 60 million dollars from the FIA every year because you’re a heritage team and you still can’t hire competent people who will prevent BOTH your cars getting disqualified for COMPLETELY DIFFERENT REASONS might I add. Mercedes has been humbled over the last few years but they’re still soo much more reliable imo. and a lot of the narratives around the team or even toto being evil and just The Devil are so obviously recency bias.

and red bull is of course red bull :)

[spaceycat]

hi all! ik that ive been SUPER inactive recently but we move foward.

i actually want to cry so bad that i deleted this poor anon's request on accident cuz it was so good, ANON. IF YOU'RE OUT THERE. IM SO SORRY!!!!

here's the premise: avenger!reader finding out that bucky is a pornstar and asks if he wants to practice with her !!!

let's just say that bucky like didnt fall of the train and isn't as traumatised LOL

also just letting it be known that i dont really want to write smut right now idk why but its just me ig so its a bit dialled down im so sorry <3

⋆★⋆ i'll be a demonstration ⋆★⋆

♫ ᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ: s&m by rihanna (4:04)

Bucky wasn't expecting you to come to him with that proposition, not in a million years. He wasn't expecting the sweet, innocent, and very much a superhero-self to be interested in him and his work.

But the problem is his work isn't the most respectable thing in the world and Bucky still didn't know you exactly found out that he did sex work in the first place and how long you've been watching you before. However, when you came up to him at a party and said "Maybe you'd want to practice with me? I'd be down.." At first he didn't know what you meant, but as soon as it clicked in his mind - he realised that the what he thought was innocent girl that he had a harmless crush on and flirted with almost every time he saw her for a year was now asking to fuck him. On camera might he just add. And how could he say no to you?

When Bucky texted you the next day about it, you weren't really betting on the fact that he thought it was serious and just thought it was a joke. "wanna practice at mine?" and then it all aligned, you were just trying to flirt, but now - right now, Bucky was now asking you to come over to help him 'practice'.

"My face won't be in it, will it?" You said shrugging off your coat at Bucky's apartment door. "What you afraid of people finding out that the superhero that has saved the world multiple times fucks like an animal?" Your jaw dropped at that. "How?--" "Whenever I'm over at Avengers tower the walls aren't exactly soundproof." "You can't just say that." "I just did, and I would like a demonstration to be honest."

And now, you were underneath Bucky - still in your clothes as he set up and fumbled with the camera beside the bed. "Is it recording?" He'd let out a hum, continuing to fumble with it. "..Should-- be." You were just tired, and horny - to put it lightly. You thought it was kind of endearing how he fiddled with the camera trying to make sure everything was perfect.

You grabbed him by his shirt, pulling him into a searing kiss - he reciprocated almost immediately after faltering for a moment, he'd pull back. "Listen, doll-- I dont want to watch this back and realise that the camera was the wrong way just give me a minute." "Bucky." You'd pout, he'd sigh. It's kind of a once in a lifetime opportunity that this happens to he's just gotta take what he can get."It'll have to do then.." When your pout was replaced with a pout, he couldn't help himself - locking you in a kiss.

His mind almost short-circuited as you grabbed his hand, moving it to your waist - his hand instinctively tightened. He's had other girls before, sure, but none of them were you. As the kisses turned heated and more open mouthed, Bucky's hand moved underneath your shirt, his hand splayed out on your abdomen - pushing it up slowly.

He pulled back for a moment, taking note of how you chased him - wanting more. Bucky chuckled a bit at that, "Give me a minute, doll." He'd pull your shirt off with your assistance, chucking it aside. He let out a low appreciative whistle, looking you up and down. "Jesus, you're beautiful.." "Bucky-- wait, shit." "It's fine, doll. I can cut it out, say my name as much as you want." The suggestiveness of the comment made your face blush, not even noticing the fact that Bucky unclipping your bra tossing it aside aswell. "Pretty lil' thing.."

His shirt curled in your hands, "Off- please.." You wanted to see all of him. He let out a hum, pushing it off the bed - joining the rest of the clothes.

His hands slid down your chest, moving underneath your jeans to feel your slick folds, he let out a chuckle. "You really wanted this huh?"

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

Afterwards, Bucky helped you into the shower - going to check the recording that he expected to be a solid 2 hours long. As he grabbed it, he realised that he didn't even start recording. But he wasn't particularly against recording another one with you.

[tommykinardkink]

I have been in this fandom for maybe around 3 months now and I gotta say, I do not understand the anger each side (Buddie/Tevan) has for the other. Especially the buddie shippers cause I haven't seen anything really horrible from Tevan shippers but I'm sure there are outliers.

But the buddie shippers make it seem like it's some sort of moral failing to ship buck and Tommy. And I don't understand because this is a tv show. They could make buck grow wings tomorrow if they wanted to. But they get upset when what they view as subtext pointing to something, doesn't come to fruition.

And okay sure, you felt like you were misled. But how is that the fault of buck and Tommy shippers? We aren't writing the show 😭 it's just so mean over there lol.

I also see people saying buck/tommy shippers are "old women"( anyone over 30 is considered old in the Internet) lmao and idk how true that is but even if it is... So what? If it's true the the bucktommy shippers skew older, that's maybe the reason why it's so chill over here.

I'm almost 30 and have been in many fandoms for over a decade now. It's not that serious lol. I understand if it was real person shipping because that can get touchy and messy. But calling people delusional?? For wanting to see a fictional couple that were already together?

I wouldn't even call Buddie shippers delusional because like I said, the writers can do anything at the snap of a finger. It's a story 😭

I mostly tend to stick to my own little corner in fandom, but from what I've seen this fandom's been a pretty angry place for while. This just seems to be the lightning rod for the last year. If it wasn't this, it would be something else. We do seem to have a problem with taking anything in good faith.

I've not seen them talking about the age demographic of bucktommy shippers, but that would just be... incorrect? But I've not seen them talking about that. Mostly just going on about how we like to watch white dudes kiss.

As for the it's just a tv show point, that's true. But we invest so much of ourselves in the characters we love, and I can't blame people for that. So I don't think anyone's delusional, just really. Passionate. And desperately need to lighten the hell up.