#The Stray Pursuit | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

readwritealldayallnight · 3 months ago

Text

Comatose Confessions

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Reader

wc: 4k words

warnings/tags: fluff

Part two to this

He’s barely moved a single inch in the last hour

Though he blinks every so often, his eyes never once stray from where he’s held his gaze so steadily this entire time, as focused as any trained sniper could ever hope to be

Sat on his bed, back against the wall and stiff as a statue, he watches as the faint light creeping in under the crack of his door shifts every so often, the shadows outside refusing to stand still

He knows it’s you

As perfectly silent as you are, he can still see the shadow of your boots pacing back and forth, back and forth, again and again, just outside his room

You know he’s inside

And he knows that’s why you refuse to leave, annoyingly stubborn in your pursuit, determined in your efforts to get the man inside to put an end to his charades

He knows you won’t leave until you get what you want

And what you want, is for Ghost to stop avoiding you

He’s been very carefully, very intentionally avoiding having to speak to you

He can’t bring himself to do it

He just can’t

Not since he’s woken up

Not since his head felt worse than it had in a very long time, mind swimming through a heavy fog in an attempt to fight his way back to consciousness, his entire being had felt shaken to its core and thrown off its axis, his blood running cold with the unmistakable chill of pure, unadulterated fear, not too far off to how he’d once felt waking up with the taste of dirt in his mouth, buried six feet under ground

Only to be jolted into a startlingly opposite reality when he suddenly was able to smell that achingly familiar, enrapturing fragrance he’d come to associate with a certain someone, could somehow feel miraculously soft, gentle fingertips smoothing along his neck into his goddamn hair, an affectionate touch he’d only felt fleetingly as a young boy, and when he’d opened his eyes, he was certain he’d somehow snuck his way past the gates and into heaven

Because above him had been you, and though the light glowing around you burned his tired eyes, you remained a vision so beautiful to behold he could never dream of shutting his eyes ever again, could not help but to instinctually reach out to grasp you, should you vanish before him and he lose the chance to ever hold you, at least once

His brain was still pounding, insistently throbbing as it shocked itself back awake, fighting to take control back as his lips suddenly said the only thing that both his mind and heart could agree upon at this moment, looking up at you:

“Love.”

It was nearly an entire day later, following a flurry of you being whisked out of his room, doctors and nurses fussing over him, his mind and body slowly beginning to feel more like his own again, when Soap came to visit him and all too happily recounted to his Lieutenant what he’d supposedly said upon waking up from his days long coma

After the doctors released him from the med bay or rather accepted that the Lieutenant was going to leave when he wanted to whether they liked it or not, they’d given strict instructions for at least a fortnights rest, wanting to allow his brain enough time to truly recover, concerned that though everything else was checking out fine, that short bout of confusion upon waking could not be looked over when it came to head injuries

Confusion

Is that what they all thought it had been?

He couldn’t exactly blame them, he felt he’d done a more than phenomenal job of hiding the true nature of his feelings for you from anyone and everyone, making it appear as though he was nothing more than indifferent to your existence, far from someone he’d be relieved to see waking up in a hospital bed

No, he’d been far from confused when he’d insisted to anyone who would listen, not caring that anyone’s ears but your own would hear his words spoken with the utmost sincerity, when he called you his girl, his love

No, if anything that was the most honest Ghost had been in a long time

At least since you’d worked your way into his life and apparently his heart along the way

But now, nearly two weeks passed since he’d woken up and admitted to you in his vulnerable state of mind his true feelings for you, after months of carefully avoiding ever letting you know how he felt, months of keeping his distance in hopes of diminishing the gravitation pull he felt whenever you were near, and he couldn’t bring himself to face you

He can’t decide whether it’s a small mercy or not that in the fog of waking up and all the chaos that ensued, that he can’t recall seeing your reaction to his words, can’t remember seeing the look on your face when he admitted the words he would have preferred to have been buried with than to profess out loud to you

A blessing, in that he doesn’t know whether your face twisted up into a look of horror or disgust at his revelation, and a curse, in that he’s had days upon days holed up in his room, imagining every other possible reaction you might have had

Since his release from the med bay, you’ve come knocking at his door, he knows you’ve been asking around base for him, have tried to run into him during those few fleeting moments he trudges to the mess hall and back

Why you’re so determined to confront him, he can’t be sure

To laugh at him? Rub it in his face?

He doesn’t think so, it’s not something he believes you’d so, but then again he’s never had his entire heart held in a pretty birds hands before, especially when he’d never intended to hand the bloodied, somehow still beating thing over in the first place

Maybe you feel sorry for him, hope to let him down easy, or even pretend as though you never heard him in the first place, he’s not sure which would hurt him most if he’s honest-

None of those excuses feel right however, with the way you’ve been seeking him out so persistently, opposite to the neutrality the two of you had less than half a month ago, and so always more at ease in the certainty of his own misery, rather than the misery of uncertainty, he remains hidden from you

Fuck, he hopes you haven’t been speaking to Johnny too much

When he notices your steady back and forth pacing suddenly come to a halt with the shadows indicating you’re stood directly in front of his door, the only movement Ghost allows is the slightest quirk of his scarred eyebrow, gaze intent on where he imagines your form stands just beyond the thick plank of wood separating you

He’s holding his breath, wondering what your next move will be in this childish game of cat and mouse he’s roped you into, when he hears the slightest shuffling from outside, a crinkling sound accompanied by shadows moving about under the door, followed by the sound of your boots echoing away from him and down the hall

It takes him nearly another ten minutes before he dares to move again, already beginning to berate himself for the way he’s behaving like a frightened child, when his eyes lock in on the anomaly on his floor

The sun was just beginning to set when he’d dared to venture out to the mess hall and back to his room quickly, hoping it was the best time to avoid most everyone including you before they ran out of decently edible grub, only just slipping into his room and shutting the door behind him when he’d glanced down the hall and locked eyes with you turning the corner

Now more than an hour passed, the sun long gone and his food cold and untouched, he notices something that wasn’t there before

Slowly, Ghost approaches his door, bending down to a crouch to examine what’s been slipped so carefully underneath the thin seam of his door

A single cigarette

He huffs a silent approving hum, bringing the death stick up to his mask covered nose to smell the bad habit he hasn’t touched in a few days

In all his efforts to avoid running into you, he’d quickly gone through the packs he kept in his room, only daring to smoke them out of his own ajar window like a goddamn teenager hiding the smoke from their parents

He’d smoked his last one a handful of days ago, and had yet to pick up a new pack, his years long addiction to nicotine apparently coming second to his need to continue avoiding you, no matter the cravings he felt

Now however, holding the smoke between his calloused fingers, he finds himself too relieved to begin the logical train of thought that should accompany such a gift from you being slid under his door

Fetching his lighter out of his desk drawer, Ghost steps towards his window and cracks it ajar enough that he can lean his upper half out, prepared to enjoy his cig in peace

What he isn’t prepared for however, as he inches his balaclava up above his crooked nose and begins trying to spark the lighter to life, is for the flames to be reflected back at him through your very own eyes staring up at him, stood directly below his window

“Hi Ghost.” You whisper up to him with amusement, the faint quiver of your lip giving away the mischievous smirk threatening to push through the darkness of the late night hour

You’re quicker than he expects you to be, almost as though you anticipated what his next move would be, when you reach out to squeeze your hand between the window and the pane, just as Ghost hurries to shut it

“What the fuck do ye think you’re doin’?” The Lieutenant growls out, hoping to stall for time as he recomposes himself, internally shaking his head at himself for falling for your trick. Leaving him a damn cigarette like a taunt and waiting beneath his window for him to smoke it was purely childish on your part, but then again, he hasn’t exactly been the most level headed soldier on base recently either he supposes

“Apparently what I have to do to get you to acknowledge me.” You reply casually, refusing to budge your hand away from where it prevents the window from shutting you out. “How long are you planning on avoiding me? Hm?”

“You’re bloody mental if ye think tha’ I-” He cuts himself off with the sharp glance you throw his way, a look that easily reads ‘are you fucking kidding me’ even in the low light illuminated across your features. “Alrigh’, fine. You’ve got me. Your grand plan was to hide ou’ here, like some bloody lunatic, wait for me… and then what? You plannin’ on climbin’ in through the fuckin’ window next?”

Fighting for the upper hand in this situation, Ghost watches as you take a deep breath, eyes quickly scanning the length between the ground and the windowsill, where you’re struggling to keep your hold while stood on tip toes

“Well I was hoping you’d invite me in by now. But I’ll do what I have to.” You decide confidently, raising your chin up high as you hold his gaze, refusing to back down now that you’ve got him in front of you. You must see something in him that puts a slight dent in your resolve however, as he watches your eyes soften ever so slightly, and you begin to shift on your feet. “I just want to talk to you, Ghost. Can’t we at least just do that?”

He fights the urge to grind his teeth as he clenches his jaw, shifting his eyes away from you as he struggles to maintain his composure seeing you standing there bathed in moonlight, a look of genuine sincerity on your face as you plead with him to be reasonable

“Fucking fine. But you’re using the bloody door. Don’t need you causing a scene out ‘ere.” He relents, pulling his hand back from the window pane.

“You promise to let me in?” You ask, hesitating before you release your grip on the glass. He peers back down at you, taking his own steadying breath before he offers a curt but steady nod in your direction. “Good, because my next move was going to be to pull the fire alarm, and that would’ve just been so much more of a mess.”

With that little revelation, he watches your hand slip away from the glass as you tip toe along the edge of the barracks, finding your way back inside. He scoffs to himself as he shuts the windows firmly, shaking his head at your antics as he stares solemnly at the unlit cigarette still pinched between his fingers

What the fuck has he gotten himself into?

Your fist has barely finished its first knock on his door before he’s swinging it open, reaching a large hand out to grip you by the waist and pull you inside before he has the chance to change his mind about this whole thing. He peers his head quickly around the corridor to make sure no one caught sight of anything before shutting the door behind you both, sealing him in with the last person he thought he’d find himself with tonight

He releases his hold on you as quick as he can, taking a large step backwards to put space between you both, eyes raking in the sight of you pressed up against the back of his door, an image he’s pictured many times before in his head but never believed he’d truly ever lay his eyes upon

He watches your own gaze hesitantly sweep around the space quickly, taking in the sparseness of the room. What he wouldn’t do to be able to take a peek into your mind, especially right now

“How’s your head feel?” You ask quietly, eyes shifting back towards the masked man’s visage as he clenches and unclenches his fists at his side. The only answer you get from him is a grunt you’ve heard from him often enough to know translates to ‘fine’. “Soap was telling me that if the docs clear you this weekend you’ll be able to start easing back into work.”

Ghost simply watches as you watch him, slowly lifting one foot before another, cautiously making your way over to his small desk and easing yourself down into the chair, all the while keeping him in your sight, as though he were a wild animal you might spook with one wrong move

“I’m sure they’ll pass you, but between you and me,” you add, leaning back slightly in the chair as a shadow of a smile crinkles in the corner of your lips. “I’d help you forge the docs signature if we had to. I’ve had my fair share of Soap, I’m ready to pass custody back over to you.”

At this, Ghost can’t help the soft chuckle that slips out, watching as the hesitant smile on your face forms into a full fledge smirk at the sound of his approval. With the tension in the room slowly beginning to dissipate already, he dares to allow himself to take his own atop his bed, opposite to you. Still though, he can’t completely let go of the nerves running through him, knowing you’re likely moments away from confronting him.

“You wanted to talk, let’s talk.” His deep voice rings out in the small space, hoping to cut straight to the chase, get this over with

“Right,” he watches you fidget in your seat, eyes leaving his for a moment as you begin to fiddle with your jacket pockets. “Listen Ghost, I- I realize that I might have heard something you didn’t necessarily want me to know.”

‘Yeah, that’s putting it fucking lightly’ he thinks to himself, but allows you to go on with whatever speech you’ve obviously prepare, hoping you’ll at least be quick in your rejection of him, and that this can soon all be a thing of the past

“And I figured if we were going to talk, it would really only be fair to level the playing field, so to speak.” He watches with veiled curiosity as you fish something out of your jacket. In your hands you hold a small, but clearly well loved notebook

“How’s that?” He questions, nodding towards the item in your grasp

“I don’t think I have to swear you to secrecy here but, I used to write in journals a lot, when I was little. Don’t really keep up with it as much anymore, you know how busy we are.” You mention, pulling the strap down from across the front cover and opening the book, fingers sifting through the pages covered in handwritten words of ink and lead. “Every once in a while I’ll write something down, if it’s memorable. But mostly I jot down my uh, well my more embarrassing stories.”

“Why would ye do tha’?” Ghost questions, eyebrows furrowing as he tries not to decipher any of the words he sees on in your book, unsure where this is all going

“Honestly,” you say with a small, airy chuckle. The Lieutenant ignores the sudden feeling in his chest cavity as he comes to the conclusion he’s never seen you smile so often, at least not so up close and personal. “Reading them back makes me feel better. They make me laugh. Especially after a long day or hard missions. Nice to come back to and remind myself not everything in life has to be so… serious, I guess.”

You offer a casual shrug, still thumbing between pages as Ghost takes in your words.

“Anyways, I just thought that, maybe you’d want to hear something I would usually never tell anyone. Make us a little more even?”

He narrows his eyes at you slightly, understanding now what it is you’re trying to do.

He slipped up that day when he woke up from the coma, accidentally made himself vulnerable in front of you and said something he wish he hadn’t, something he’s embarrassed about

And so here you are now, offering to be vulnerable in front of him instead, to grant him access to some of your embarrassing moments and thoughts, level the playing field as you had put it

Yeah, he’ll bite

Again, he offers you no more than a subtle nod in your direction to communicate his agreement, but the way your eyes lights up at this response, you’d think he would’ve just agreed to make you Captain for a day

“Thought maybe we’d start easy. How about the time I accidentally spit my gum out on my CO’s boots? Or when I peed myself during basic-”

Ghost isn’t sure how you’ve done it, whether you knew this was how your cunning plan would work out all along, or if you’ve just gotten incredibly lucky tonight, but as one embarrassing story on your part turns into two, and then three, and suddenly hours have gone by, the stoic Lieutenant finds himself smiling with you, laughing with you, fuck he even starts offering up his own carefully curated stories when you pull an almost full carton of cigs out of your other pocket and toss them to him, the two of you sharing remarks over a shared smoke, hunched over the same window he nearly slammed in your face earlier

“Oh man,” you choke out in small fit of giggles, your hand holding your sides as you pass the cigarette back to him. “We oughta put all your dad jokes down on paper one day, you know why? Because they’re tear-able.”

He rolls his eyes as he takes a deep inhale off the cig, pretending the corners of his mouth haven’t been lifted nearly all night.

“Tha’ was awful.” He mutters, sparing you a side glance before he adds, “A real pun-ishable offence you jus’ committed there.” He doesn’t bother hiding his smirk anymore when your giggles grow louder at that.

“Alright, alright. I suppose my pun-ishment then,” you say between breaths, casting him a glance to see if he approves of yet another one of your corny puns tonight. “Would be to read these last few pages.”

He watches as your fingers dance across the handful of pages making up the end of the journal, yet to be read aloud tonight, your movements appearing hesitant for the first time this entire interaction.

Part of him feels the urge to tell you whatever it is, it’s not necessary, that you don’t have to read anymore about yourself that you don’t want to

Another part however, is far too curious, far too intrigued to know more about you, having learned more tonight from your own lips than he has in all the months he’s known you

“Actually, maybe I’ll just have you read it this time.” You say, reaching the journal out towards him, allowing him that one final glimpse into your personal thoughts. With a calloused palm, he takes the book from your hand, careful not to linger too long on the soft touch of your digits against his rougher ones. Glancing down at the words written haphazardly across the lined paper, he reads:

‘First week with the 141 went by in a blur, don’t think I’ve ever sweat so much on a base before, those men sure know how to train’

‘Captain is nicer than any other CO I’ve had before, and the Sergeants are funny, very welcoming’

‘The Lieutenant is… different’

‘Not bad different (though he might not say the same for me), just different. Hoping to learn more about him soon’

‘One month on the team has flown by, almost can’t remember life before the 141’

‘The lads are great, but the Lieutenant still doesn’t seem keen on me being here. Which is a shame, his teammates speak so highly of him, and his work speaks for itself. Just wish he’d speak to me sometimes’

‘Almost half a year already, if you can believe it’

‘These men feel like family, all apart from the one who still won’t acknowledge me’

‘The lads say not to worry about it, that Ghost will come around eventually… I just hope they’re right. There’s something about him I can’t shake. I find myself thinking about him more than I should’

‘Mission went bad. Lieutenant got hurt and has yet to wake up from his coma’

‘For the lads sake, I hope he wakes up soon’

‘Ghost opened his eyes yesterday…’

‘I don’t know if he meant what he said, or if he even remembers it, but I know I’ll never be able to forget it’

‘This entire time I’ve just wanted him and I to be cordial, to work together, hell maybe even become friends… but ever since he’s said those words… I can’t shake the feeling … maybe friends isn’t quite the right word for us’

Ghost isn’t sure how many times his eyes scan that last entry over and over and over, willing his eyes to believe what he’s seeing right in front of him, not until your hand slowly slips over his own, still holding the journal open, does his gaze flicker up to meet your own vulnerable stare

“I’ll be honest I’m not sure how to- do this.” You say with a slightly awkward chuckle, the vulnerability of the situation clearly starting to get to you as your Lieutenant stares you down wordlessly. “But I wanted to be honest with you. Couldn’t have you wallowing away in here any longer without knowing - well I guess without knowing how I felt too. I don’t know you as well as I’d like to Ghost, we haven’t exactly given each other many chances to do so. But I’d really like to be your… friend.”

His eyes narrow in on the sweet but anxious smile you try to put on through your nerves, your earlier confidence diminishing now that you’ve truly laid your cards out and made yourself as vulnerable as you can before the man who still has yet to say anything.

Ghost takes a steadying breath, eyes never leaving yours as he tosses your journal onto his bed where it lands with a soft bounce.

Vulnerability like this, feelings like this… it’s a grey area Ghost usually tries to avoid at all costs, a field of land mines he’d rather not cross, knowing no one makes it out on the other side unscathed

But with everything you’ve done for him, everything you’ve revealed to him, in combination with the throbbing organ behind his ribs fighting to beat its way back to life since the moment he met you and decided he couldn’t fall for you, Ghost finally relents and says fuck it. You’ve shown more bravery tonight than he has in the last two weeks, avoiding you like you were the plague, and it’s about time he put on his big boy trousers and show some bravery of his own now

“Don’ know it the lads told ya, but I don’ really do friends.” He says, slowly lifting a single boot and cautiously stepping in your direction

“I- I’ve heard.” You mutter, trying not to show the defeat that threatens to come across your features at his words, fearing he’s about to let you down.

The large man takes another step, and another, until there’s suddenly less than an inch of space left between both your heaving chests, and you have to crane your neck upwards while his is tilted down to keep his eyes on yours. Your eyes widen as you watch one of Ghost’s large hands come up into view, sneaking towards the bottom of his balaclava, which has been rolled up with entire time as you both shared some smokes

His fingers pinch the fabric, pulling it up further above his mouth to rest on the crooked bridge of his nose, revealing more of his scarred lips to you just as they whisper:

“But you and I, my love, aren’t quite friends.”

With the way Ghost’s lips come crashing onto your own waiting mouth, you’re inclined to agree with him

Tag list:

@kat-herine00 @unclearblur @anastrashbin @sundaescreamcheese @milanriol @mismatchsposts @xye-weirdo @readingthingy @kitkatkristal1020

@purplegamer99 @idkwhatfor09 @alkalineapparition @lovelycurls @thecattyinthedark-blog @idkwhattodosooo @hao-ming-8 @wh0s-ra3 @cricricorner @tessakate @laduenadelswing @pinkpookiebear

#readwritealldayallnight #call of duty #call of duty fanfic #call of duty fic #simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #ghost x reader #cod fanfic #cod simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost fanfic #call of duty ghost #ghost cod #ghost x you #simon ghost riley x you #cod simon riley #simon fluff

1K notes · View notes

meganegatari · 10 months ago

Note

Bro I literally eat up ur writing every time😭can u do ellie using a vibe on u?

before you read.

☆: KILLING 3 BIRDS W ONE STONE HEHE. i feel these all go well, so why not. sorry for the insane wait, and the wildly lazy writing...me putting this off forever only to bang out a crappy blurb in like 2 mins...also can't stick to a single aesthetic WHATEVA.

◇: vibrator use, fingering, porn w/out plot (sawry), dom-ish ellie (but she's still kinda silly), overstimulation, squirting, aftercare at the end (all r! recieving).

"you can take it, doin' so good." she murmurs under her breath, her face contorted in concentration.

you squeal when ellie presses the vibrator hard against your poor, overworked clit, the sensations almost too much to bear. but no matter how overwhelming it may be, it's still so mind numbingly good. the device has been set on a mode midway for the past...however long, and you've completely lost count of how many times she's made you cum thus far. for all you knew, it could have been well into the double digits, and she didn't seem to be stopping any time soon.

ellie’s eyes were dark, low with blown out pupils. they remain trained on you, flickering between observing your facial expressions, your squirming body, covered in a shiny layer of sweat, and what's going on under her hands. "...ellie, hold on...wait." you gasp out, struggling to catch your breath.

she detaches the device from you, her tattooed hand traveling up your body, settling on the side of your face to cup your cheek, and wipe away a stray tear that had escaped from your eye. "need a break, babe?" she says, her gaze softening. that honey voice she puts on, featuring a light domineering timbre, it immediately makes you wet all over again and you whimper quietly, bucking your hips up in pursuit of more stimulation. she notices—of course she does, observant as a fox—and her lips stretch into a sneer, "yeah that's what i thought, still need more." she chuckles, before thrusting the tip of the toy back onto your swollen clit, biting her lip when she watches you arch backward, mantras of her name and pleas falling from your lips.

her free hand, which was previously resting on your knee, flies down the inside of your parted thighs, grazing the heated skin, and she teases your hole with two digits, eagerly observing the reactions. she quickly stuffs her middle two fingers inside with ease, slick and pearly cum leaking down her slender knuckles. curling upwards to massage your g-spot, the pleasure is causing explosions of colors to appear in your vision, your eyes are filling with tears once again.

"just gimme one more, okay?" ellie orders gently, clicking buttons to increase the intensity of the vibrator even more, and you nearly shriek. out of instinct your legs fight to close around her hands, but she's quick to push your knee to the side again, tutting. "nuh-uh, don't do that. just one more. say the safeword if you really want me to stop, alright?" you open one eye and nod meekly at her, and she resumes. within no time at all you feel the brink of orgasm swell in your lower abdomen once more, your legs trembling at every purr of the toy. and she can tell as well by the way you're whining and panting, all with a fucked out, lazy smile playing on your face.

silent moans trapped in your throat, you feel the blinding ecstasy overtake your body, blacking out your senses for a moment. she has lessened the setting to work you through it effectively, all while muttering sweet praises throughout.

"god, look at that." she whispers in awe once it's over, discarding the device on the floor and rubbing her hands across your legs to ease the tension in your thighs, making sure you're okay. she hovers over you to press a tender kiss to your forehead, then over your entire face, grinning when she hears you laugh.

her goofy tone returns, "fuckin' squirted all over me, baby. we'll clean up just gimme a sec." she cuddles up to you, nuzzling her face in the crook of your neck, sighing and softly stroking the top of your head. "next time we'll do a couple more, make a new personal best, whaddaya think?"

tags (idk why some didn’t work): @andersonfilms @ch6douin @aouiaa @sapphic-ovaries @astro-cat2 @paqerings @r3starttt @littlefallenangel111 @srooch @sinfulprayerss @lvlymicha @sunnsh1ine @anniee333 @flowrmoth @liddysflyer @fortune777 @claude999 @brunaedn @lanabaezzzz

2K notes · View notes

stilljuststardust · 29 days ago

Text

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Persistence, not perfection

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Conviction is not the absence of fear, doubt, and negative emotions. Conviction is standing in the face of that and saying you have it anyway, because nothing other than what you decide matters.

Stop thinking that you've failed to make an assumption just because your heart is still racing and your stomach still hurts. Your emotions and your body are not god. You can be terrified and shaking in your boots but still standing ten toes down in your assumption

Where I think many people go wrong is the pursuit of perfection. It's the trap of "good enough". When will I be enough? When is what I'm doing good enough to manifest my fucking desire already?? You decide what's good enough, and no one else.

This idea that you have to feel good to manifest, or that you don't have control over when it manifests, the constant song and dance of "doing it right". Law of attraction still has its dirty little fingers digging around inside our hearts

Right and wrong are up to you. There isn't a secret code that unlocks the door, there's no invisible gatekeeper to please, there is only yourself. Have you decided you have it? Have you decided your efforts are good enough or are you constantly punishing yourself.

It is so easy to get lost in what you "should do". Should I be convincing myself or just deciding? Is it ok if I use this affirmation? There is no should.

Do not let shame and guilt destroy you. You should never blame yourself for what is in your reality. You should however recognize you alone have the power to change it.

Stop trying to "fix" everything and ending up spiralling over minor feelings that you can't get to go away. You don't need it to go away. You can literally just decide to keep with the assumption even if you had a stray thought or a flood of emotion. You don't have to hammer down everything that isn't exactly perfectly perfect, because it's yours. Accept that it's yours anyway. Yes I feel like shit, it's still mine. Yes I have doubts, still fucking mine. No I don't understand the "how", it's still mine.

Stop being the observer, hovering over your own shoulder to chastise yourself over every little mistake. You do not need to be perfect to be persistent.

You don't need to "figure out" anything, you don't need to convince yourself or overthink. Manifestation is when you leave all that shit alone and say "no, fuck all of that, I have it".

Trying to micromanage yourself is the easiest loa mistake to make. You end up spiralling for thirty minutes because you had one bump in the road you're trying to force down instead of just saying "sucks, still have it though".

Who cares about belief, who cares about feeling, you are god. Its up to you. I don't care if you feel convinced when you say that you have it, and neither does your subconscious mind.

I'm an insomniac who doesn't drink enough water. If I just go by how I feel I'm gonna think the world is ending. So much of our emotions get falsely attributed to "oh it must not be working" when really, you haven't your body is literally just begging you to go outside or take care of yourself and you're over here like "the universe is against me". No you haven't failed, you're just grumpy and need a nap.

The constant return to "how do I fix it" "how do I manifest" IS living from the old assumption. Deciding that you have already manifested it, regardless of how you feel, is what you need to be doing instead.

Trusting yourself is not this overwhelming influx of dopamine nor is it the complete lack of fear. Having trust is doing the damn method anyway.Having trust is saying, I may not believe it, I may not see it, but it's fucking working. Having trust is getting out of your own way and letting yourself do it without constant double checking.

Conclusion, literally say "nuh-uh!"

"Ok but I don't believe it-" nuh-uh still have it.

"But the 3D-" nuh uh, mine

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

723 notes · View notes

crescendo-if · 2 months ago

Text

DEMO - [TBA: July 2025] | RO INTROS | RO APPEARANCES

You're nothing if you weren't born to be a star.

You've spent your entire life unwanted and ignored, from curious eyes drifting right over you to the next person to talent agents and competition judges brushing you off without even sparing you a second thought. Blindsided when you were left behind by the one person who you thought believed in you, you're done standing in the shadows waiting for someone to take notice of you.

You're set out to prove them all dead wrong.

However... determination alone isn't enough to carry you through the music industry's ruthless pursuit to snuff out the dreams of young talents before they even catch a spark. You need a certain type of long-lasting grittiness to survive the low-paying gigs hosted in the seediest bars imaginable. Especially when three years after you moved to the Angel's City, those same bars are still your main source of income, despite having cultivated a decent online following.

But finally, the stars have aligned, and you have a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity from somewhere you never saw coming. Elysium's lead vocalist and Olympian Records' holy grail, a rockstar with the most massive—and arguably most obsessed—fanbase in the country has clocked you as the next big thing to grace the music scene. They’ve convinced Olympian you’ll be the next them in ten years, placing some high expectations on your shoulders.

Whether their endorsement is a magnificent stroke of luck or a curse that threatens to poison every choice you make from here on out, you'll rise to the occasion because there's no other option for someone like you.

Until you're a star, you'll never stop reaching for the sky.

Play as an up-and-coming singer, determined to fight their way to the top of the charts no matter the cost.

Customize your own predestined star's appearance, personality, and career image. Are you confident or anxiety-ridden? Open and friendly or aloof and defensive? Are you loved by the public or do they love to hate you? Is fame and the stage or your music more important to you?

Design your own music and lyrics, and choose from one of three mainstream genres (rock, pop, or both of them combined: pop-rock) to focus on. Write about whatever your little heart desires, as long as the label approves it.

Choose your biggest strength, the attribute that allows you to stand out above all the others; do you have the voice of an angel, perfect for any type of song? Or are your songwriting capabilities unmatchable by even those who boast the most prestigious awards?

Launch a passionate romance with one of nine available options and try not to let it ruin your budding career in the process. Straying too close to the fire means you're bound to get burned eventually.

Navigate what it means to be an artist under Olympian's label. Are you relishing in the attention and luxury, or is it all a little too uncomfortable? Is every rumor you hear the truth, or are they all coming down from the top? Will you compromise your artistic vision to garner their favor, or will you fight tooth and nail for the authenticity of your music?

Explore LA and Hollywood while experiencing all the fun (and not-so-fun) pastimes they have to offer and meeting some famous names with wildly different intentions.

Open for the biggest band in the country, joining them on their world tour and flying from place to place on their private jet. Paris, London, Rome, New York, Las Vegas, Tokyo, Orlando all of it awaits you.

And, most of all, watch as your name goes up in flashing lights and you transform into the star you were always meant to be.

★ The Rockstar: Tristan/Trisha Hydra, aka HADES/MEDUSA (m/f) ★

The witty, hypnotizing, and impulsive egomaniac lead vocalist of Elysium, the band with the world record for most-sold album ever. With their endorsement, Hydra seems to have made themselves your unofficial mentor, and you their protégé. Is that because they truly believe you're meant for the big leagues, or because they made a rash decision in the heat of the moment and now they're facing the consequences?

★ The Traitor: Jonah/Juliette Ziegler (m/f) ★

Your former best friend who abandoned you when they hit it big is nothing like you remember them to be. That mischievous and dazzlingly charming kid with dreams bigger than the whole sky vanished without a trace in your absence. All that remains is a frost so icy you'd almost think you were the one who wronged them.

★ The Ride or Die: Cia/Cian Avila (m/f) ★

You're not sure how you would've survived this long without your now-roommate and longtime friend, the blunt, snarky, and constantly irritated by something electric guitarist/tattoo apprentice Cia/Cian Aliva. When LA's being its usual brutal self, you can always count on them to be there when you get home, however much they may grumble about moving here in the first place.

★ The Manager: Ethan/Elena Sun (m/f) ★

Every famous superstar needs an equally talented manager. With a cleverness that could rival the King of Ithaca, an unwavering devotion to their client's success, and a creativity that makes you wonder why they don't write songs themselves, E is the epitome of a perfect manager on paper. But how much of it is genuine exactly?

★ The Pop Princess: Natalie "Marigold" (f) ★

The pop music sensation has another claim to fame than just her music; her widely scrutinized long-term relationship with T Hydra. Even the most astute of internet sleuths can say with certainty that nobody saw that relationship coming. Overnight, she—and her music—skyrocketed to the top of the trending searches. And now everyone in America knows her name because you can't mention Hydra without thinking of Marigold. She's scored the dream life everyone wants, that's what they all say.

★ The Rival: Damian/Devyn Thunder (m/f) ★

Cocky jackass. That's the best way to describe C Thunder. They're undeniably talented and their voice is one most people would kill for, but all of that's offset by their insufferable smirk and smug demeanor. You'd sooner jump off a bridge than spend a single minute alone with them, but Olympian seems to have other plans after signing them.

★ The Sweetheart: Stella/Eli Rose (m/f) ★

The other winner of Upstaged Season two and the only child of a beloved late actor, they're (one of) Hydra's notorious rival. You're not sure what rule of Upstaged says it's required to hate your competition to win, but Hydra's certainly fulfilled it. Rose… you get the feeling they couldn't care less about whatever grudge Hydra holds against them. How could they when they're being pulled in a hundred different directions daily without a break?

★ The Daredevil: Lucifer "Luci" Morningstar (m/f) ★

The Olympian-signed electric guitarist is the classic image of a daredevil; chaotic, reckless, and far too relaxed causing havoc. It's no surprise some of the gossip magazines have dubbed them as batshit crazy. An accurate rating, they'd remark. You get the feeling they're a little proud of the title, or maybe they've just chosen to embrace it.

★ The Bodyguard: Bellamy Ortega (m) ★

Cool, calm, and collected isn't enough to define Hydra's personal bodyguard—also coincidentally your new neighbor—as you get a distinct feeling that even getting stabbed wouldn't faze him. So, obviously, Hydra's constant game of putting their life and reputation in danger for the thrill doesn't either. Or maybe he’s just had a lot of practice pretending it doesn't.

★ Rue Bèrd: (f) ★

A keyboardist signed with Olympian who freelances as your friend in her spare time.

★ Adrian Park: (genderfluid) ★

A producer employed by Olympian and Rue's long-term partner. They're also your friend when they want to be.

★ Karry Cenderat: (f) ★

Elysium's manager who conjures up a miracle every time she keeps another scandal from reaching the press's grubby hands.

★ Billy Matthews: (m) ★

The mysterious owner of the record label who drops by to see how things are going once in a blue moon.

★ Johnny Locks: (m) ★

A sold-out stadium rockstar whose second claim to fame is being dubbed the nicest guy in rock. Also famously Hydra's first, and only, mentor.

★ Samson Ryland: (nb) ★

The bass guitarist of your new band. They're welcoming enough, but you've been around enough musicians to know they're wary of you joining the group.

★ Anthony Lance: (m) ★

The drums, Anthony doesn't feel the need to pretend for niceties sake. He doesn't like you intruding in the band and he makes that very known.

Crescendo is rated 18+.

P.S. There are a multitude of spoilers below this.

All of the following are elements that will eventually be in the final game. There will be specific content warnings available at the start of every chapter. Please read at your own discretion; this story may be distressing for some readers.

Mentions and/or depictions of mild and moderate violence

Mentions and depictions of drug and alcohol use/abuse and addiction

Mentions of suicide, suicidal thoughts, and death

Mentions and depictions of mental health issues, including depression and anxiety

Explicit sexual content

Explicit language

General immoral behavior

And more

Extra tags; @interact-if

#twine wip #twine if #twine game #twine story #twine interactive fiction #if wip #if: wip #interactive fiction #if: intro #choicescript #hosted games #choose your own adventure #interactive story #interactive game #interactive novel #cog #cogdemos #crescendo: if #interact-if

589 notes · View notes

theinsideofablackhole · 1 month ago

Text

Dissecting the Watcher's story & characters

⚠️ BIG EDIT ⚠️ I want to share a much, MUCH more compelling reading of the DLC's primary ending, courtesy of @characteranalysisthethird. You can find it in this reblog, spoilers of course.

I've seen a number of people claiming that the Watcher DLC has no story and that the slugcat has no characterization, but I definitely think it's there.

(SPOILERS FOR THE WHOLE DLC!) There are no spoilers for the secondary ending until about halfway down, where there is a warning.

Adventurous...

Since this post gets a bit meandering, I will spell out the general framework of the story here:

The Watcher is a shy, lonely individual who desperately struggles to find companionship after their childhood was cut short. They will go to great lengths to achieve this connection.

Timid mouse

"And through the middle of it all, a lonely lost slugcat trying their best to outlast the ravages of a warped world."

Why are they called the Watcher? It's due to their nonconfrontational, withdrawn demeanor. This is immediately apparent in the intro dream:

When Watcher's parent steps up to fight the aggressive slugcat, Watcher's sibling joins in. But Watcher just hides away, afraid to confront the danger. It's unclear if their family survived the tussle, but they never reunite again. Watcher's shy demeanor has severed them from their family.

Time passes and Watcher grows a bit older, wandering around in what seems like a futile search for their family. Here, they meet Spinning Top, the child Echo.

A desire to bond

Within the DLC's story, youthfulness is tied to a fear of isolation & loneliness.

Spinning Top has been lost & drifting for a long time. When they ascended, they feared the loss of connection to their old life and their loved ones. So they remained on world, searching for a sign that their loved ones still miss them.

This desperate pursuit has led them to travel across reality for eons and eons. By the time Watcher meets them, Spinning Top is now combing through places that have no relation to their life. Spinning Top won't find any sign of grief or remembrance in Coral Caves or Rusted Wreck, so why are they drifting along these pointless locations?

Spinning Top's loneliness and persistence arose because, as a child, they lacked the experience of maturing and could not handle the radical acceptance required to ascend. They are scared to accept the truth: their childhood has come and gone. Their loved ones eventually moved on and also left the world behind. Spinning Top is the only one holding onto this long-defunct family.

Shadow reflecting radiance

Watcher and Spinning Top are very similar characters. Both are lonely children that have been severed from their parents and siblings, and wish to revive the childhood that was ripped away from them. They're desperate to rekindle some kind of connection.

Throughout the campaign, Watcher continually searches for Spinning Top because they're the only individual that Watcher has seen who could bring a greater connection than chomping, fleeing, or stabbing. They even give Watcher the gift of infant godhood!

These childlike characters both find companionship in each other. In fact, Watcher's companionship is what gives Spinning Top the strength to return to the location of their actual memory, and confront the truth of their loneliness.

"All my mothers and fathers and crechemates who went along without me… Do they note my absence? I've traveled from the furthest future to the very seed of our past, and I see no evidence. Only echoes and strays. Aloof. Alone. Afraid."

Spinning Top accepts that it is best to grow up and move on, and so they disappear, finally ascending for real. Watcher, however, does not seem to learn the same lesson from this journey.

I NO LONGER AGREE WITH THIS READING! Instead, I believe that the ending shows Watcher having accepted their isolation in the same way that Spinning Top did, which is why they're content... and alone. I discovered this reading courtesy of @characteranalysisthethird, and you can find a reblog of it here.

While they may seem happy playing with toys, it's still a symbol of juvenility. Despite everything that has happened to them, they still embody a desire to recapture their lost childhood.

And now, Watcher is alone once more. Soon, they will seek out a new companion.

Ripplespace as a symbol of isolation

Before I discuss the second ending, I want to talk about Watcher's abilities and the symbols they embody.

The ripple-world that Watcher is (accidentally?) transported to by Spinning Top is a continuation of the aching, drifting nature of these two characters. They are unable to stay in place for long, constantly seraching for a sign of connection.

Watcher's "gift" of invisibility is a clear extension of their characterization. They tackle threats by hiding away, slipping past unnoticed. As their Ripple level rises, the cloak begins pushing Watcher further out of their typical plane of reality, creating tears into a wholly different plane. And when they reach the (as of now) maximum Ripple level, Watcher is fully pulled out of the material plane and into Ripplespace. Here, they are truly alone except for the primitive, gnawing voidspawn.

Every gift seems to give way to a curse of isolation. Watcher has to detach themselves from reality itself to survive, and the gift-giver Spinning Top leaves them behind.

Endless hunger

SPOILERS FOR THE SECOND ENDING.

Here's a cool divider.

While the purple Throne Rot seen across the campaign may not play by the same rules as Five Pebbles' Rot, its behavior is equivalent. The Rot is the ultimate embodiment of primal struggle, a collective consciousness of brain meat that forever hungers to consume as much of the world as it can reach. It is not unintelligent, but it is very one-minded.

From The Throne itself, a giant flower blooms and gives birth to the Prince.

The Prince is a piece of the Throne Rot that has partially separated itself from its collective consciousness. It is an individual connected to the Throne Rot, but it has its own mind. "STARVING, pressing, grinding, SQUEEZING against... us? But now... I? A... SELF. And… an OTHER."

The Prince is an imitation of an Iterator puppet. This part of his identity causes him to believe that he was born to solve the Big Problem, by assimilating the entire world into the Throne Rot. "The imperative that was in THEM [the Iterators] remains in me." "Imagine: a single substrate… Life! (...) Nothing lost. No one lost. From bug to god, all as one. A TRUE end to the pattern."

I personally don't believe this was the original goal of the Throne Rot, but rather the Prince instinctually assigning purpose to his new life as an individual. He rationalizes his intrinsic hunger to consume in the lens of a "higher" ideal.

You can see how the Prince reflects Watcher's desire for connection in a deeply twisted manner. They're both in an endless pursuit to connect—Watcher offers itself to others as a companion, while the Prince takes companions and forces them into himself.

Opposing will

The Prince loves Watcher. He considers them to be a great friend, as they are the primary individual responsible for spreading the Throne Rot and the only one to have witnessed their genesis. "You have done so much for me, I will not burden you with my troubles. Please, rest here as long as you wish. You are always safe here, my dear friend. You, who were there for me."

Watcher has finally found it—a new companion, who showers them with praise and affection. Out of an acute desire to retain this friend, they go on to spread the Throne Rot across all the threads that connect the ripple-world. Every viable world is corrupted.

Unfortunately—or perhaps fortunately—something goes terribly wrong for the Prince. "I can almost feel... a will... at odds with my own."

Karma is antithetical to corruption. When the Throne Rot sufficiently engulfs the "fringes" of the ripple-world (Outer Rim and the Rotted vanilla regions), these regions become unstable and you cannot create a warp to escape them. However, there are pockets in The Throne where a bed of Karma Flowers allows you to exit. It's unknown if the phenomenon is natural or intelligent, but Karma inherently opposes the Rot.

When Watcher returns after corrupting all the regions, Karma Flower begin sprouting from the ground of The Throne. The Prince attempts to keep them in, but he ultimately fails—he freezes up, and countless Karma Flowers sprout from the corruption. The Throne Rot might not be outright dead, but its power has clearly been drained. The Prince has failed.

Karma Flowers are all over the map now. The "unstable fringes" have also been stabilized by their presence. You can create a warp to leave Outer Rim and the Throne from anywhere, and the same goes for the Rotted vanilla regions.

Going by the tone of the select screen art, Watcher just seems to mourn their loss. Another new friend, unceremoniously ripped from them.

Moving forward

Watcher cannot seem to find connection. Their family left and possibly died. They helped Spinning Top mature, but Spinning Top left—given that they viewed corporeal and primal life as absurd, they were bound to do this.

Watcher may have attained infant godhood, but their powers encourage them to hide away and detach themselves from the world, concealing them in the desolate Ripplespace with nothing but occasionally violent voidspawn.

It's almost scary how this godlet is willing to go such great lengths to secure companionship, falling for the Prince and corrupting the entire accessible ripple-world to make their friend happy. This friendship ends fruitlessly, too.

Watcher will eventually have a full conclusion to their story. So where will they go from here?

Narratively, I don't think Watcher will get what they want. Their next (and final, I believe) venture for companionship will end in ruin once again... but possibly, Watcher will recognize that while other people come and go, the only constant who will always be there for them is Watcher themselves, and they will learn to overcome the trauma and yearning of their lost childhood.

^ (I think this theme is actually what the Spinning Top ending is already trying to say, andWatcher realizes this very principle thanks to Spinning Top.)

That's my slightly blunt prediction for the overarching theme of the Watcher.

Extra thoughts

Scav Prediction

I personally believe the next arc will involve Scavengers. In the old pre-release Watcher concept, Watcher journyed with an enlightened Scavenger. While James Primate has stated before that Downpour kinda stole the old concept's thunder (i.e. with Artificer), I get a strong indication that the next arc will still involve Scavengers because of the new Acolytes.

Acolytes are Scavengers who are BRIMMING with attributes that reflect a knowledge of Karma and Ripples.

Acolytes wear glowing golden masks and clothes

A faint Karma symbol between 6-10 surrounds them, suggesting that they are already enlightened (or their armor is imbued with some kind of karmic concentration)

When they are grabbed by a predator, they initiate a crazy karmic retaliation blast to free themselves (which I failed to get a GIF of)

The blindfolded Disciple Acolytes emit a sort of karmic echolocation ping that detects entities from a distance

The definition of an "acolyte" is "a person assisting the celebrant in a religious service or procession". The celebrant is someone performing a rite; often a priest. This implies the acolytes are carrying something out for a leader who is almost certainly not the Chieftain Scavenger in Downpour.

Overall, these guys know something, and I think we're going to find out why.

#rain world #rain world lore #rw lore #rain world spoilers #rain world the watcher #rw the watcher #rw watcher #the watcher spoilers #rw watcher spoilers #rain world watcher #rw the watcher spoilers

509 notes · View notes

whatdoyouwanttocallmefor · 2 months ago

Text

More Than Enough: How They Loved Her (Stray Kids) (COMPLETE)

Hello, I'm planning to do this small cute series about richboy! skz ft. cutenormal! reader. It's just a short story part for each member but I really want to make it in a different post bcz.. hehe..

Niweys, I'll probably start posting tomorrow and it won't take a long time before I finish all the members since it's not that long.

Enjoy!

The Persistence Prince- Bang Chan

The Cold Prince Who Stayed- Lee Know

The Sunshine Billionaire- Changbin

The Artist Who Painted You- Hyunjin

The Clumsy Heir- Han

The Golden Boy with Freckles- Felix

The Quiet CEO- Seungmin

The Sweetest Pursuit- Jeongin

________

Date start: 7 March 2025

Date end: 12 March 2025

Thank you so much for the support and please tell me if there's anything wrong with the story <3

419 notes · View notes

kashverse · 3 months ago

Note

I can imagine mamakuna lowkey being clean freak, so when she sees biscuit crumbles on the floor (which she just perfectly cleaned not a second ago) or dirty dishes she's practically fuming to the point where not even papakuna is brave enough to tell her to calm down 😭😭

kunafamily lore masterlist (if you wanna know who mr. pickles and baby are!)

being a single mom is no easy task. not that you’d know, considering you are not a single mom, but you might as well be when you walk into your house after a long day of being a corporate baddie only to be greeted by pure, unfiltered chaos.

pizza crumbs.

a mysteriously sticky countertop.

and the unmistakable scent of cat food that has been half-eaten and abandoned like some kind of offering to a higher power. it triggers something deep inside you. something primal. something terrifying.

the motherly rage of a clean freak.

baby the tabby, who up until now had been leisurely sprawled on the floor like a victorian child perishing of consumption, immediately senses the danger. his tail flicks. his ears twitch. then—before you can even take a step toward him—he picks up a stray cat food pellet with his paws and presents it to you like he’s making a sacrificial offering. "good," you say, narrowing your eyes. "and the rest?"

baby the tabby, in what can only be described as sheer desperation to survive, licks the floor.

mr. pickles, the true veteran of this household, already knows better. he’s been here before. he’s seen things. so he does what any wise, battle-worn soul would do—he tries to clean up as much as he can before you can notice. the problem? his old-man slobber is all over his face. you sigh. deeply. with the weight of a thousand disappointments.

“mr. pickles.”

he looks at you. the room is silent. then, in his infinite wisdom, he licks his face again.

a valiant effort. ultimately, not enough.

at least babykuna, the true star of this household, is the picture of discipline. she has been trained well. she scrubs her hands, wipes her face, and nods at you with the solemnity of a warrior returning from battle. “i cleaned everything, mama,” she declares, voice laced with the confidence of someone who has witnessed firsthand what happens when the household does not meet your standards. you pat her head. “good girl.”

and then. there is your husband. your dear, beloved, overgrown menace of a husband. sukuna, in all his glory, is sitting at the kitchen counter with a half-empty beer and a pile of chicken wing carcasses. and he has, in his reckless pursuit of enjoyment, not cleaned a single thing.

"what," you say, voice dangerously calm, "is this."

sukuna, entirely too relaxed for someone on the verge of death, takes a sip of his beer. “looks like dinner.”

you stare. he stares back.

babykuna, sensing imminent doom, very quietly tiptoes away. baby the tabby follows. mr. pickles too.

sukuna, still confident—foolishly, stupidly confident—leans back in his chair and smirks. "what, you gonna make me sleep on the couch over a couple of chicken bones?"

silence. a long, long silence. then, realization finally dawns upon him.

"…babe," he tries again, but this time with actual concern.

you exhale. slow. steady. the breath of a woman who is moments away from committing a crime.

"you have five seconds," you say, voice eerily soft, "to clean this up before i make you file for unesco world heritage protection to save your spot in this bed tonight."

sukuna moves. fast.

babykuna peeks around the corner and whispers, "papa’s in trouble."

mr. pickles lets out a long, knowing sigh.

justice has been served.

877 notes · View notes

pucksandpower · 1 year ago

Text

April Fools?

Lando Norris x Hamilton!Reader

Summary: maybe telling your father the big news on April Fools’ Day was not the best idea

Lewis is lounging in his driver’s room, reviewing data from the last practice session, when there’s a tentative knock at the door.

“Come in,” he calls out, not looking up from his computer screen.

The door creaks open slowly and Lewis glances over to see you and your boyfriend shuffling awkwardly into the room, neither of you making eye contact with him.

“What’s this then?” Lewis says with an amused chuckle at your strange behavior. “You two look like you’re about to face a firing squad.”

You and Lando exchange a nervous glance but remain silent, shifting your weight uneasily.

Lewis sets down his laptop and leans back in his chair. “Well, out with it. Whatever it is, I’m sure it can’t be that bad.”

You open your mouth but no words come out. You look pleadingly at Lando who seems equally incapable of speech, his lips moving soundlessly.

“I haven’t got all day here,” Lewis raises an eyebrow. “One of you needs to start talking.”

You take a steadying breath and then the words come tumbling out in a rush.

“I’m pregnant!”

There’s a beat of silence as Lewis processes what you’ve said. Then he lets out a loud laugh, slapping his knee in amusement.

“Nice one! You two really had me going for a minute there. Very funny prank!”

Lando finally finds his voice, though it comes out as more of a terrified squeak. “She’s … she’s not joking. Y/N is pregnant. With my … with my baby.”

Lewis just keeps laughing so hard that tears threaten to spill down his cheeks. “Oh come off it, you can drop the act now. I’m not falling for silly April Fools’ pranks!”

“Is … is it April Fools’ Day?” You ask hesitantly, a crease forming between your brows. “I didn’t even realize what day it was ...”

Lewis’ laughter slowly trails off as the serious expressions on your and Lando’s faces register. His eyes narrow as he looks between the two of you.

“You’re … you’re actually pregnant?” He asks slowly, needing confirmation one last time. “With Lando’s …”

Lando gulps audibly and gives the smallest of nods. “Y-yes sir.”

A rushing sound fills Lewis’ ears as the reality slams into him. His little girl, his baby, is having a baby of her own. With a driver no less — one of his competitors!

The room starts spinning dangerously.

“You …” Lewis growls, rounding on Lando with a look that could incinerate him on the spot. “You got my daughter pregnant?”

“I … I …” Lando squeaks, taking an unconscious step back.

“Start running,” Lewis rumbles in a tone of deadly calm. “You’ve got three seconds.”

Lando’s eyes widen in terror and he immediately turns to bolt out the door.

“One …” Lewis counts, rising to his feet with jerky movements.

“I’m too young to die!” Lando wails, throwing the door open and fleeing at a sprint down the hallway.

“Two …” Lewis continues menacingly, stalking after him with murder in his eyes.

“Dad, wait!” You cry out in a panic, but it’s too late.

“Three!” Lewis roars, now fully giving chase after a petrified Lando.

He tears down the corridor and out into the paddock area, drawing confused stares from crew members and team personnel.

“I’m too young to be a grandpa!” Lewis bellows at the top of his lungs, rapidly closing the gap on the fleeing Lando.

You hurry after them, catching up just as Lando races past a very confused group of mechanics, Lewis in hot pursuit.

“Don’t let him hurt me!” Lando screams as he dodges around equipment boxes.

The commotion has drawn the attention of the entire paddock by now. Cameras are out and clicking furiously as the most famous driver on the grid chases his terrified competitor in circles.

Finally, Lando trips over a stray tire and goes sprawling to the ground. Lewis is on him in an instant, grabbing him by the shirt front and hauling him up until they are nose to nose.

“Please … please don’t kill me,” Lando whimpers pathetically.

Lewis glares at the younger man for a long moment before his expression softens just a fraction. “I’ll let you live. On one condition.”

Lando nods frantically in agreement before Lewis has even named the condition.

“The baby gets my name. You two are naming it after me. No arguments.”

For a brief second, relief flashes across Lando’s face. Then his eyes go wide again in fear. “Ah well … you see … the thing is ...”

“Spit it out!” Lewis growls.

“Y/N … she wants to name the baby Nico. After Nico Rosberg.”

A muscle twitches dangerously in Lewis’ jaw and he drops Lando back to the ground in a heap.

“Oh, for fu-”

“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!” Lando’s desperate shrieks once again fill the air, echoing across the paddock. “Lewis, please, have mercy!”

3K notes · View notes