#and I have :) at least one DM who's just 'oh I see; it's good when bad things happen! that's good dnd! :)'

[iamquiantrelle]

SO INTO YOU (part 2) ───── iamquaintrelle

# pairings: aurelien tchouameni x black reader (✨💕)

# tags: @sucredreamer @snowseasonmademe @jessnotwiththemess @rougereds @judectrl @mufasathatniggatho @irishmanwhore @lettersofgold @ayeshami @greyishbach @haartemis @goldenngt @solidbriii @sailurmewn @bbgkoo @mauvecherie-writes @leighjadeclimbedmtkilimanjaro

# summary: you’re a multiple grammy winning artist with a record breaking single based on an embarrassing crush on a footballer & when that single demands visuals who else do you ask to be your video vixen besides said footballer crush? but is he also willing to blow your back out too? ♡ masterlist

The next few days passed in a blur — Madrid, the match, the rush of it all. Of course, someone caught you at the match — there was no way that wasn’t happening. You were you, after all, a Grammy-winning artist sitting in VIP seats at the Bernabéu, very much in the camera’s line of sight. The picture had already made its rounds on social media: you, leaning forward with your elbows on your knees, watching the game with full concentration. Another showed you mid-cheer after Aurélien’s assist, your excitement unmistakable.

The comments on The Shade Room were a mess.

"Why is [Your Name] at the Bernabéu??" "She watching soccer now? 👀" "Ain’t no way she just ‘watching’ — look at that smile." "She’s a Madridista now? Elite taste." "I know she was there for Tchouaméni. Be serious."

You scrolled through the discourse with a grin, but the real entertainment was happening on Tumblr. Unlike the rest of the internet, your little tchouamenithoughts page was an anonymous safe haven, a place where you could be as shamelessly down bad as you wanted. And the girlies were going through it.

moot1: she’s cute. good for him i guess moot2: the way he’s been playing lately... yeah he’s in love moot3: it’s giving soft launch. moot4: imagine being the muse for that one song she wrote... bc I KNOW it’s about him.

You had to stifle a laugh reading that one. It was already too weird, and you knew — God forbid — if Aurélien ever found out about this little corner of the internet, you’d have to disappear into the abyss.

You then reblogged a gifset of Aurélien’s highlights from the match, tagged "captain of my heart" before clicking into the inbox.

Anonymous asked: "Bro tell me you saw [Your Name] at the match? She was going feral for our man Tchouaméni just like us. Respect."

You snorted and reblogged it with a simple: "As she should."

Your phone buzzed in your hand, pulling you away from the mess you’d been consuming like your own personal reality show.

Auré: Did you make it home safe?

You smiled, a warmth blooming in your chest.

You: I did. Tired though.

Auré: You should rest. You’ll need your energy for when I see you again.

You bit your lip, shaking your head at the audacity.

You: Oh? And when’s that?

Auré: Soon. I told you, I’m doing the chasing now.

Your stomach flipped. God help you.

You locked your phone and sighed, leaning back against your pillows, your laptop still open to the mess of your moots spiraling in real-time. Yeah, this Tumblr was going to have to go soon.

But for now? You had a little more time to kiki.

***************************************************

Aurélien meant it when he said he wanted to do the rest and chase you.

The next morning, a delivery arrived at your apartment in LA. A massive bouquet — white and blush pink roses, accented with baby’s breath. It smelled incredible, and the little card tucked inside made your stomach flip.

"Since I didn’t get to be the first one in your DMs, let me be the first to send you flowers. –AT"

You bit your lip, rereading the message at least three times before setting the card down. The man was serious.

And the thing was — he wasn’t doing too much. You’d been courted before, had men try to win you over with grand gestures that felt more about them than you. But this? This was just Aurélien being him. Smooth, intentional. Never overstepping, just reminding you that he was right there.

His texts came consistently, never letting a day pass without checking in. Some were sweet. Some were very much not sweet.

Auré: Did you sleep well?

You: Mhm. You?

Auré: Not really. Kept thinking about how you looked in my bed.

Whew.

Other times, he was just ridiculous.

Auré: Hypothetically, if someone wanted to know your coffee order…

You: Hypothetically, they should just ask.

Auré: I am asking. But I wanted to see if you'd be difficult first.

You: Vanilla oat milk latte, extra shot. Now tell me why you’re asking like you’re sending a gift card.

Auré: I might be.

You: Aurélien.

And sure enough, an hour later, an email from Starbucks: [Your Name], you’ve received a gift from Aurélien Tchouaméni.

You couldn’t even be mad.

Then came the FaceTimes. Usually at night, when he knew you were home. It started casual — just him, shirtless (because of course), leaning back against his headboard while you sat on your couch, notebook open, laptop playing beats softly in the background.

"What are you working on?" he asked one night, eyes flicking to your scribbled lyrics.

"Music."

"No shit," he teased, smirking. "But what kind?"

You tapped your pen against your notebook. "Just some ideas."

His brows lifted. "For me?"

You snorted. "No. Not everything is about you."

"Shame." He stretched, flexing way too much for someone who was supposedly relaxing. "But you’ll write another one about me eventually."

"You think?"

"I know."

You rolled your eyes but smiled anyway, focusing back on your lyrics. Until—

"You work too much," he murmured.

You glanced up. "And you run too much. What’s your point?"

His smirk deepened. "That I’m gonna fix that. When are you coming back to Madrid?"

You blinked. “Oh, you’re just assuming I’m coming?”

"Yeah." He looked so sure, so smug, you wanted to reach through the screen and wipe that smirk off his face.

"I have work."

"I have work too,” he countered easily. "But I make time for what I want."

That shut you up for a second. You clicked your tongue. "That’s a cute line."

He grinned. "It’s not a line, bébé. It’s a fact."

And then, as if that wasn’t enough, the next morning, another email delivery. This time? A plane ticket. First class, LAX to Madrid, one week from now.

No note. Just that.

And the man had the audacity to text: See you soon.

******************************************************

You told yourself you weren’t really considering it.

You weren’t impulsive like this. You had rules. Checklists. Boundaries.

But when Carmen barely batted an eye after you double-checked your schedule and when your best friend damn near screamed in your ear after you mentioned Madrid again?

"Are you insane? You just got back!"

You winced, pulling the phone away from your ear. "First of all, lower your voice—"

"No! Because this man has already had you in a chokehold, and now you’re just willingly running back?"

You sighed, switching the phone to your other ear. "It’s not like that.”

"What’s it like then?"

Silence.

Exactly.

Because what were you really gonna say? That you were working backwards? That the whole 'I have standards thing' was already a joke because you’d skipped about fifteen steps when you slept with him and now you were just here like some lovestruck fool?

Because you were.

"Yeah," your best friend scoffed when you stayed quiet. "That’s what I thought."

Still, none of that stopped you from breezing through TSA a few days later, sunglasses on, hoodie pulled low, boarding a first-class flight back to Madrid. Because somehow, in less than two weeks, you had gone from watching him on your screen to meeting him in person for your video shoot, and now you were sipping champagne, heading straight back to him.

You were supposed to be working — laptop open, beats playing, lyrics scattered across your notebook — but all you could do was stare at your phone, rereading his last message.

Auré: See you soon, bébé.

A slow exhale left your lips.

You weren’t even there yet, and he already had you spiraling.

The moment you exited arrivals, he was waiting.

Leaning up against his car, hands in his pockets, looking stupidly good in a fitted tee, Rhude shorts that made everything look right, snapback cap, and another Cuban link around his neck. His eyes locked on you like he’d been counting the seconds.

Your stomach flipped.

This man…

"You’re early," you said, trying to keep your voice even.

He smirked. "So are you."

Fair.

"C’mere."

You barely had time to react before his arms were around you, pulling you into him. His scent wrapped around you — warm, familiar, distracting — and suddenly, everything about this felt like a terrible idea.

If he was this good just holding you, how the hell were you supposed to handle anything else? Especially at the rate he was going?

"You miss me?" he murmured, lips at your ear.

You pulled back, schooling your face. "Did you?"

No hesitation. "Yeah."

Your heart betrayed you, but you kept your expression neutral.

"Hmm," you teased. "Was it the inside jokes? The deep conversations?"

He chuckled, dark and knowing. "The way you sound when I—"

"Aurélien."

His grin widened as he stepped back, opening the passenger door. "Get in, bébé."

And just like that, you were gone all over again.

The drive to his place was quiet.

Not the awkward kind — never that with him.

It was the kind of silence that buzzed, thick with anticipation. The kind where every glance, every shift in your seat, said more than words could. Aurélien drove one-handed, his other hand resting on your thigh like it belonged there, fingers tracing slow, lazy circles against your skin.

Like he was reminding you exactly why you were here.

The low hum of Afrobeats filled the car, blending with the occasional ping of a text on his phone. You ignored it, focusing instead on the way his fingers tightened slightly when you moved, the barely-there smirk on his lips.

"You good?" His voice was smooth, teasing.

You exhaled. "Fine."

A low chuckle. "Lying already?"

You shot him a look, but it was useless. He knew. He always knew.

By the time you reached his house, you were already on edge.

And then there was Ocho.

The massive Belgian Malinois greeted you at the door with an excited bark, nearly knocking you over in his eagerness.

"Damn, you remember me?" You laughed, scratching behind his ears as he licked at your wrist.

Aurélien chuckled behind you, setting your bag down near the stairs. "He doesn’t forget people he likes."

You glanced up, finding him watching you with something unreadable in his gaze.

The air between you shifted.

You swallowed, turning away to take in the space — the same high ceilings and floor-to-ceiling windows, the same sleek yet lived-in warmth from the last time you were here. But this time, there was something different.

This time, you knew what it felt like to be pressed against that couch, to have his mouth on your skin, to hear your own voice echoing against these walls.

And, of course, there were the flowers.

You huffed a laugh, finally spotting the massive bouquet of white lilies and soft pink roses in a crystal vase on the marble countertop.

"You really do this, huh?" you murmured, fingers ghosting over the petals of the bouquet before turning to face him.

Aurélien leaned against the counter, arms crossed, watching you with that slow, knowing smirk that made your stomach tighten. "Do what?"

"This whole…" You gestured vaguely at the flowers, the way he had you standing in his kitchen, feeling like you’d stepped into something inevitable. "Seduction thing."

"I told you," he said, pushing off the counter to come to you, voice low as his fingers found your waist. "I wanted the chase."

Your breath caught as his chain moved gently against his collarbone.

"And now that I have you here?" His lips hovered over yours, his hands already moving, already claiming. "I’m not letting up."

Your breath hitched as his hand splayed against your lower back, pulling you flush against him. You were already in too deep, already fighting a losing battle against the warmth curling in your stomach, against the way he smelled — clean, like cedarwood and something distinctly him.

"Aurélien—"

He kissed you before you could finish, tilting your chin up, his lips moved against yours like he had all the time in the world, like he was savoring you, mapping you out. The hand at your waist gripped tighter, and he made a sound in the back of his throat when your fingers found the nape of his neck, threading into the soft curls there.

You felt him smile against your mouth.

"What?" you breathed.

He pulled back just enough to search your face, his thumb brushing over your cheek. "You taste smug," he muttered.

You arched a brow. "And what does smug taste like?"

His lips twitched. "Like someone who knew she was coming back to me."

Your stomach flipped.

You weren’t going to entertain that — not right now, not when his voice was doing that and his hands were still tracing over your body like he was committing every inch of you to memory.

So you deflected. "Ocho knew too, apparently."

Aurélien huffed a quiet laugh. "Ocho is a good judge of character."

You snorted, shaking your head, but the moment you tried to step back, his grip on your waist tightened.

"You’re not going anywhere, bébé," he murmured.

You swallowed hard.

Because he wasn’t just talking about right now.

And he knew you knew it.

The moment stretched between you, heavy with promise. His thumb was still tracing patterns on your skin, each touch deliberate, like he was writing his intentions into your flesh. The kitchen's warm lighting caught the angles of his face just right, making his dark skin glow golden, and that fade you'd written countless posts about was perfect for running your fingers through.

"You're thinking too loud," he murmured, ducking his head to press his lips to your neck. His chain brushed cold against you, making you shiver.

"Hard not to," you managed, trying to keep your voice steady as his teeth grazed that spot below your ear. "When you're being all…" you gestured vaguely at him, at this whole situation.

He huffed a laugh against your skin. "All what?"

"You know what."

"Mm," his hands slid lower, grip tightening just enough to make your breath catch. "Tell me anyway."

The command in his voice - that same tone he used directing the midfield - had your knees weak. But two could play this game.

You pulled back just enough to meet his eyes, watching them darken as your fingers traced the chain around his neck. "All confident," you said softly.

His responding smile was dangerous. "Didn't you write a whole song about it?"

"That's not—"

"About how I control the game?" His lips brushed your ear, voice dropping lower. "About how I read the field?"

Your heart was absolutely betraying you, hammering against your ribs like it was trying to escape.

"You really memorized those lyrics, huh?" you tried to tease, but your voice came out breathier than intended.

He pulled back to look at you properly, and the intensity in his gaze had you forgetting how to breathe. The same focus you'd watched him apply to matches, to training, to everything he did - all of it was directed at you now.

"I memorized everything about you," he said simply, like he wasn't completely ruining your ability to think straight. "The way you bite your lip when you're nervous. How your eyes follow me during matches."

Ocho's tags jingled as he trotted past, heading for his bed in the corner, completely unbothered by the way his owner was systematically dismantling your composure.

"You're impossible," you muttered, even as your hands traveled up his arms, feeling the muscles shift under your touch.

"You like impossible," he countered, and before you could argue, his mouth was on yours again, more urgent this time. Less controlled. Like maybe you weren't the only one affected here.

Your back hit the counter, and his hands gripped your hips to lift you onto it. The marble was cold through your clothes but he was burning hot, all solid muscle and sure touches as he stepped between your legs.

"Tell me to stop," he murmured against your lips, but his hands were already sliding under your shirt, already knew your answer.

You tangled your fingers in his chain instead, using it to pull him closer. "No."

His answering laugh was all satisfaction, all victory. "Good girl."

*******************************************************

You woke up to Madrid sunlight filtering through his expensive blackout curtains that clearly weren't doing their job. His bed was still unfairly comfortable, sheets soft against your skin, and the gentle rise and fall of his chest under your cheek was threatening to lull you back to sleep.

Jetlag had hit you hard after... activities, leading to what was supposed to be a quick power nap but wasn’t. That kitchen counter definitely needed disinfecting though.

Multiple times.

Now the afternoon light was painting patterns on his dark skin, and you were finding it hard to care about time zones at all. When he woke up to slip away to the bathroom, you grabbed your phone, checking the damage.

Surprisingly, your Tumblr mutuals hadn't caught wind of your return to Madrid yet. But you knew better - it would only take one fan with a good camera angle to set everything off again. You heard the sink running, and then Aurélien padded back to bed, all sleep-warm skin and low-slung sweats. He lay beside you for a moment before that hand found your waist, tugging you closer.

"C'mere," he murmured, voice still rough with sleep. You went willingly, settling against his chest, ear pressed to his heartbeat. That same dopey ass smile from last time spread across your face as his fingers traced lazy patterns on your back. "How long are you staying?" he asked, playing with your hair.

You tilted your head up to look at him. "How long do you want me?"

His answering smirk was knowing as he bit his lip, considering. "A long time."

"Can't do that," you laughed softly. "But... two weeks?"

"Two weeks is good," he hummed, fingers still moving against your skin. "We can have fun, go on proper dates... maybe take a trip somewhere."

You propped yourself up on his chest. "Trips? Already planning baecations?"

"Mm," his hand slid lower on your back. "Gotta pull out all the stops. Could do Mallorca, Ibiza..." his smile turned dangerous. "Or maybe Paris?"

"Paris?" You tried to keep your voice steady, but the way his fingers were still tracing patterns on your skin was distracting. "That's a lot for someone who just wanted to be in my music video a few weeks ago."

His laugh rumbled through his chest. "Is it? When I've been catching you like those highlights at 3 AM?"

You pushed up to look at him properly. "Still can't believe that you noticed that. "

"Bébé," his hand came up to cup your face, thumb brushing your cheek, "You should know that I notice everything. Why did you think I said yes to the video?"

Your heart did that stupid flutter thing again. "Because I'm a three-time Grammy winner and it'd be good PR?"

The look he gave you was almost pitying. "You really think that's why? Still?"

Before you could answer, he moved - that athletic grace you'd watched on the field now used to flip you onto your back, hovering over you with that dangerous smile.

"I said yes," he murmured, chain dangling between you, "because I wanted to see if you were as beautiful up close as you were in those award show pictures I kept saving."

Your breath caught. "You what?"

"Mm." His lips found your neck. "Want to see my camera roll? All those screenshots of you performing? The ones where you're wearing that dress at the VMAs?"

"Aurélien—"

"The way you move on stage," he continued, voice dropping lower, "the way you command attention…"

You couldn't process this - him admitting to essentially doing the same thing you'd been doing, collecting pieces of each other from afar.

"So this," he said, pulling back to look at you with those eyes that saw too much, "is just the beginning. I told you - I'm the lion." His hand slid down your side, grip possessive. "And I chase what I want."

"And what do you want?" Your voice came out embarrassingly breathy.

That smile should be illegal. "Right now?" His lips brushed yours. "For you to stop thinking so much and let me show you exactly why I memorized every word of that song you wrote about me."

You barely had time to catch your breath before he was kissing you again, all intensity and purpose, and yeah - two weeks definitely wasn't going to be enough.

***************************************************

The Madrid morning light painted his bedroom in honey-gold streaks, warming the spaces he'd left cold when he left for training. His kiss goodbye still lingered on your forehead, along with his casual "take the other car if you want to go out" - like lending you a hundred-thousand euro vehicle was as simple as sharing coffee.

But after last night (and the night before that, and the increasingly blurred hours in between), you were content to exist in the aftermath of him. Every room held echoes - the way he'd pressed you against that wall, how his chain had caught the light as he'd lifted you onto that counter, the sound of his laugh when you'd almost knocked over that probably-expensive vase.

He'd been attentive in a way that made your chest ache, all careful questions and watching eyes. The same precision you'd analyzed in countless match footage translated to how he touched you - deliberate, focused, like every response was data to be cataloged. His perfectionist tendencies apparently extended far beyond the pitch, and you had the marks to prove it.

Speaking of Tumblr... you scrolled through your dash one last time. The theories were still flying, the thirst posts still abundant, but it felt really wrong now. Here was Aurélien making actual time for you, being intentional about pursuing you, and you had a whole account dedicated to thirsting over him? The cognitive dissonance was too much.

You wrote a quick post about "digital wellness" and noted taking a break then deleted the app. You'd properly nuke the account later - right now, you had a house to explore.

Ocho followed you through the house, his tags jingling as he padded along faithfully. The home gym where he'd filmed all those workout videos that had sent your mutuals into chaos was impressive, but seeing that motivational quote wall in the flesh? You clutched your imaginary pearls. And the mural of what looked like the 1960s Real Madrid team in the hallway? Yeah, if this was heading where you thought it was heading, you were definitely calling an interior decorator.

The media room spoke more to his age - all premium gaming setups and theater-quality everything. But the real winner was the backyard. The pool area was something out of a luxury resort catalog, and the Madrid sun hit just right on the loungers.

You settled into one, Ocho flopping at your feet, and tried to process everything. Two boyfriends in your entire life, and now here was Aurélien Tchouaméni - six feet two inches of pure "god took his time" - sliding into position to be number three? The universe was really out here making dreams come true.

Your phone lit up:

Auré: Missing you already. Dinner tonight? Unless you're too tired…

Your cheeks heated, remembering exactly why you might be tired. The way he'd switched between languages when he was too far gone to think straight, how that chain had felt cold against your heated skin, the sound he'd made when—

Another message:

Auré: I can feel you thinking about last night from here 😏

The smile that spread across your face was embarrassing. Those Tumblr manifestations had worked almost too well - your mutual followers had no idea they were manifesting their own thirsting out of existence.

******************************************************

"Aurélien," you warned, trying to keep your hand steady as you applied eyeliner, "I swear to god—"

"Mm?" His voice was all fake innocence, but his hands on your hips were anything but, squeezing your ass appreciatively as he pressed against your back. "I'm not doing anything."

The bathroom counter was cool under your palms as you leaned forward, attempting to focus on your reflection instead of how his chain was brushing against your shoulder, how his fingers were tracing the curve of your—

"I'm trying to get ready," you protested, but it came out embarrassingly breathy. "We have dinner reservations."

"We do," he agreed, pressing a kiss to your neck that definitely threatened your carefully applied foundation. "In an hour."

"Which means I need to finish my face and—" you inhaled sharply as his hands slid lower, gripping more firmly. "Aurélien."

You caught his reflection in the mirror - that dangerous smile playing at his lips as he watched you try to maintain composure. The fresh fade and fitted shirt were doing criminal things for his already unfair looks.

"You look perfect already," he murmured, and the sincerity in his voice almost distracted you from how his thumbs were now tracing maddening circles.

"You're impossible," you managed, but you were already leaning back against him, makeup brush forgotten.

His laugh rumbled through his chest. "You like impossible."

"Get out," you laughed, pushing at his chest. "Let me finish getting ready in peace."

His pout was criminally effective, but he retreated to the bedroom. Through the mirror, you watched him settle on the edge of the bed, scrolling through TikTok with casual grace. The moment you spritzed your setting spray though, he stood up like it was Pavlov's bell.

Interesting.

You filed that reaction away for later research.

It was becoming clear that Aurélien had downloaded the Complete Boyfriend Experience somewhere between your time apart. His manners were even more impeccable, his timing perfect, his attention to detail almost suspicious.

He took your hand as you descended the stairs together - another discovery about the man your mutuals had analyzed endlessly. Physical touch was definitely high on his love language list, contrary to Maha's whole dissertation about him being an acts of service guy. (The smugness of proving a mutual wrong? Unmatched.)

The stilettos made you grateful for his steady presence, his hand warm and secure in yours. At the door, he turned to Ocho, voice dropping into that French that still did things to you both in and out of the bedroom.

"Sois sage, protège la maison," he murmured, scratching behind the dog's ears. The simple command shouldn't sound that good, but here you were swooning.

He led you to the car, opening the passenger door with that fluid grace that made everything look choreographed. But there, sitting in your seat, was a red gift bag.

"Aurélien…" you breathed, picking it up before sliding in.

That smile played on his lips as he made his way to the driver's side, starting the car with practiced ease. The dopey ass grin was back on your face before you could stop it as he pulled out of the driveway.

"Are you going to open it?" he asked, one hand on the wheel while the other found its usual spot on your thigh. The Cartier and Van Cleef & Arpels bracelets on his wrist caught the streetlights, and you couldn't help staring at how right his large hand looked there, fingers splayed possessively across your skin.

The gift bag sat in your lap, full of promise. Whatever was inside - expensive or not - didn't really matter. The fact that he'd thought to get you anything at all had your heart doing that stupid flutter thing again.

You pulled out the tissue paper slowly, dragging out the moment. Aurélien's thumb traced circles on your thigh as he navigated through Madrid's evening traffic, but you could feel his attention split between the road and your reaction.

Inside was a small velvet box that made your heart stop for a second before common sense kicked in. Too soon for that kind of box. Still, your fingers trembled slightly as you opened it.

"I saw you looking at it the other day," he said softly, as you lifted out the delicate Van Cleef & Arpels bracelet - a match to one of his. "Thought we could coordinate."

The way he said it so casually, like matching thousand euro jewelry was just something you did now. Like this wasn't him essentially marking his territory in the most expensive way possible.

"You're ridiculous," you managed, but you were already holding out your wrist for him to fasten it at the next red light.

His fingers lingered on your pulse point. "You like ridiculous."

"Maybe," you admitted, watching the bracelet catch the streetlights. It looked right next to his hand on your thigh, like it belonged there. Like you belonged there.

His answering smile was knowing. "Only maybe?"

You were saved from responding by his phone lighting up with a call from Jude. He answered through the car's Bluetooth, and you settled back to listen to him switch effortlessly between English and French, discussing tactics for their next match. The way authority wrapped around his words, how naturally he took command of the conversation - yeah, you were definitely going to need to write another song.

His hand never left your thigh during the entire call, thumb still tracing those maddening patterns that made focusing on anything else impossible. The bracelet glinted with each movement, a constant reminder of how quickly this was all moving.

Two weeks suddenly felt like both forever and not nearly enough time at all.

The restaurant was exactly the kind of place you'd expect Aurélien to know about — tucked away in a historic part of Madrid, all warm lighting and exposed brick walls. Private enough that phones stayed in pockets, exclusive enough that no one batted an eye when he led you to a corner table with his hand on your lower back.

"You're staring," he murmured as you settled into your seat, that knowing smirk playing at his lips.

"You clean up nice," you shrugged, trying for casual like you hadn't been watching him all evening. The black button-down was doing criminal things for his shoulders, and the way he'd rolled up the sleeves to show off those bracelets felt deliberately calculated to drive you crazy.

"Just nice?" His eyes glinted as he reached for his water glass, chain catching the light with the movement.

"Your ego doesn't need any more feeding."

His laugh was low, private. "No? After the way you were liking my training videos? Or maybe my posts?"

The waiter's arrival saved you from having to form a coherent response to that. Aurélien ordered for both of you in perfect Spanish - another language that had no business sounding that good rolling off his tongue. You were starting to think he could read a grocery list and make it sound sexy.

"So," he said once the waiter left, his fingers finding yours across the table, "about Paris..."

Your heart did that stupid flutter thing again. "What about it?"

"I was thinking," his thumb traced your new bracelet, "maybe we start there. Then Côte d'Azur, maybe Monaco..."

"That's a lot of planning for someone who just wanted to be in my music video a few weeks ago," you echoed your words from the other day, but this time they carried a different weight.

His eyes met yours, all intensity and promise. "I told you - I'm chasing. Properly."

The way he said it, like it was just that simple. Like planning European getaways and matching jewelry and looking at you like that was the most natural progression in the world.

"You're good," you said softly, watching his bracelets catch the light as he played with your fingers.

"At what?"

"This whole..." you gestured vaguely between you. "Boyfriend thing."

His smile turned dangerous. "Is that what this is?"

You tried to pull your hand back but he held firm, that grin widening. "I mean- I didn't mean to assume-"

"No?" He brought your hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. "After I've been marking my territory so obviously?"

Your breath caught. "The bracelet–"

"The bracelet," he agreed, then his eyes got that glint that usually meant trouble. "Maybe next time we'll talk about a key. Make it easier than me having to come home from training to let you in."

His phone lit up with another call - Camavinga this time - but he declined it, attention still focused entirely on you.

"You can take it," you offered, but he was already shaking his head.

"They can wait." His thumb traced your pulse point again, right below the new bracelet. "I'm busy chasing."

The waiter came back with a bottle wine and poured some in both of your glasses. You took a sip quickly, trying to calm your nerves.

"You know," he said after taking his own sip of wine, eyes never leaving yours, "I'm going to ask you properly. To be my girlfriend."

Your heart did a backflip. "Oh yeah?"

"Mm." That dangerous smile was back. "Not yet though. Want to do it right."

You couldn't help the laugh that bubbled up. "You're really out here making men look bad, you know that?"

"How so?"

"All this," you gestured between you, at the bracelet, at everything. "The chasing, the dating, the whole... intentional thing. In 2024? In this economy?"

His thumb was still tracing patterns on your wrist, just below where the Van Cleef caught the light. "You think I'd do any less? After watching you for months?"

He made it seem like putting in effort was the most natural thing in the world (and it was). Like taking time to court properly, to build something real, wasn't a dying art. Here you were, living through dating horror stories from friends about situationships and breadcrumbing and 50/50 and men who couldn't even send proper texts, and Aurélien Tchouaméni was out here planning European trips and buying matching jewelry and talking about asking you to be his girlfriend "properly."

"You're kind of unreal, you know that?"

That smile should really be illegal. "Good unreal?"

"Don't fish for compliments," you said, but you were grinning. "Your ego is big enough."

"My ego?" He leaned forward slightly, chain catching the light. "Says the one who wrote a whole song about me?"

Your cheeks heated. "That's different."

"Is it?" His voice dropped lower, more private. "Because I have some thoughts about those lyrics..."

The look in his eyes promised you'd be hearing those thoughts in detail later.

The meal passed in a haze of excellent food and better company, but dessert? That was when Aurélien decided to be truly unfair.

He moved your chair closer to his, the scraping noise against the floor making you wince - but he didn't seem to care, too focused on closing the distance between you. The chocolate something-or-other looked incredible, but the way he picked up the spoon, eyes locked on yours? That was what had your pulse jumping.

Every movement was deliberate as he gathered a perfect bite, holding it up with the kind of precision he usually reserved for perfectly weighted passes. His eyes never left yours as you leaned forward, and the intensity in his gaze as he watched you take the bite had heat crawling up your neck.

You dabbed at your mouth with your napkin, hyper-aware of how he tracked the movement.

"Is it good?" His voice had dropped to that register that did dangerous things to your composure.

"Very–" was all you managed before his mouth was on yours, tongue sweeping in to taste the chocolate himself. His hand came up to cradle your jaw, and maybe you should've been embarrassed about kissing like this in public, but with Aurélien? All bets were off.

Those full lips of his really were criminal, and the way his stupidly handsome face looked when he finally pulled back, pupils blown and that satisfied smirk playing at his mouth? Yeah, public decency was overrated.

"Let's go back to my place," he murmured against your lips, and something in his tone had your stomach doing somersaults.

The waiter appeared almost instantly at his gesture, and you watched Aurélien handle everything with that easy command he carried on the field — getting the dessert boxed, settling the bill, all while keeping one hand on the small of your back like he couldn't bear to break contact.

The night air hit cool against your heated skin as he guided you out, his touch steady and possessive. The valet had his car waiting in minutes, perks of being Madrid royalty, you supposed. He opened your door first, naturally, and the way his eyes tracked down your body as you slid in had you feeling like prey in the best way.

The moment he settled into the driver's seat, Brent Faiyaz's voice filled the car — something about one night, about pleasure, about giving in. The universe really was testing you tonight.

You pressed your thighs together, trying to ebb off your arousal, but then his hand found your leg again. Those fingers splayed possessively across your skin, squeezing just enough to let you know he noticed your movement. Every few seconds his eyes would flick over to you, dark with promise, and the way he bit his lip when you shifted under his touch had you counting the minutes until you reached his place.

"You good?" he asked, voice rough, and the smirk playing at his lips said he knew exactly what he was doing.

"Yeah."

The fact that he could still drive this well while systematically dismantling your self-control was honestly impressive.

The drive felt endless but somehow too quick at the same time. Aurélien's hand never left your thigh, and by the time he pulled into his driveway, the tension in the car was thick enough to cut.

He moved with that controlled grace of his as he came around to open your door, but there was something darker in his eyes now, something that had your pulse racing. His chain caught the security lights as he helped you out, and the way he pulled you close — enough to feel how his chest rose and fell a bit faster than normal — had you forgetting basic motor functions.

You barely registered Ocho's excited greeting at the door, too focused on how Aurélien's hand had slid from your back to your waist, how he was looking at you like he was planning exactly how to ruin your carefully applied makeup.

"Va te coucher, Ocho," he commanded softly to the dog, and honestly? French really should not sound that good. The way the words rolled off his tongue, all authority and promise...

The door clicked shut behind you.

His hands found your hips, turning you to face him. The "AT" pendant glinted in the dim light as he leaned down, stopping just shy of your lips.

"Now," he murmured, "where were we?"

Your breath caught, heart hammering as Aurélien’s fingers dug just a little deeper into your waist. His touch was steady, deliberate — like he was taking his time, savoring the way you melted into him.

"Right about here," you murmured, tilting your chin up, letting your lips brush his just slightly. Just enough to tease.

A muscle in his jaw ticked.

His grip tightened, yanking you that last inch forward until there was nothing between you but heat. His mouth found yours in a kiss that was all possession — slow, deep, unapologetically hungry.

Ocho let out a soft chuff before trotting off, uninterested in whatever was unfolding. You, however? You were done for.

How you made it up the stairs, you didn’t know. You were only aware of the way he guided you with ease, like he owned every move you made together. By the time you reached his bedroom, your back met the closed door the moment the door clicked shut behind you. His breath warm against your skin, his hands dragging up your sides, over the fabric of your dress.

"You knew how tonight was ending," he murmured, lips grazing your jaw, fingers already working the zipper down.

You swallowed hard, exhaling shakily as the dress slipped from your shoulders, pooling at your feet. "Maybe," you admitted, voice breathy.

He smirked, the expression dark and knowing.

Then he stepped back just enough to unbutton his shirt, revealing the broad stretch of his shoulders, the sharp cut of his abs — skin warm, golden, flawless. Your breath hitched at the sight, because God, you’d seen him like this before, but it never stopped stealing the air from your lungs.

You never got tired of seeing him naked.

He was too beautiful.

Aurélien knew it too, the way he watched you watching him, his smirk deepening as he worked the belt from his pants.

Your own breathing was uneven by the time you were both bare, and then he was leading you to the bed, his hands firm on your hips, guiding you onto the mattress with a touch that felt reverent despite the heat simmering beneath it.

He leaned back against the headboard, toned thighs spread slightly as he reached over to the bedside table, retrieving a condom with an ease that sent a shiver down your spine.

You swallowed as he tore it open, sliding it on with practiced efficiency.

Then he looked at you.

His gaze was heavy, filled with promise.

"Come here," he murmured.

You crawled over to him, straddling his lap as his hands found your waist, steadying you as you settled over him. His skin was warm beneath your touch, muscles tense under your fingertips as you traced up his chest.

Aurélien pulled you closer, lips capturing yours in a kiss that was deep and unhurried, his tongue teasing against yours as his hands roamed your back. You could feel him hard against you, the sensation making your breath hitch.

His mouth moved from your lips to your jaw, then lower, trailing heat down your neck until he reached your chest. He took his time, lips and tongue tracing over the swell of your breasts before wrapping around a nipple. The sensation sent a shudder through you, a soft moan slipping past your lips as he sucked, his other hand palming your other breast, thumb circling the hardened peak.

"Aurélien," you breathed, threading your fingers through his curls.

He hummed against your skin, the vibration sending another wave of heat pooling low in your stomach. He switched to the other nipple, flicking his tongue before sucking again, his hands gripping your hips as he ground you down against him.

You whimpered at the friction, the growing ache between your thighs making you restless.

He looked up at you then, dark eyes heavy with want, lips glistening as he murmured, "Ride me."

A shiver ran down your spine at his words, at the low rasp of his voice.

You reached between you, aligning him with your entrance before sinking down slowly, gasping at the stretch, at how perfectly he filled you. Aurélien groaned, hands tightening on your waist as you took him inch by inch.

"Fucking hell," he muttered, head tilting back slightly, his grip firm as he helped guide you down. "Always so tight, bébé."

You moaned at the praise, at the delicious burn of him inside you.

He gave you a moment, fingers kneading your hips before urging you to move. You rolled your hips experimentally, exhaling sharply at the friction, at the way he stretched you just right.

"That’s it," he murmured, watching you through hooded eyes. "Take me just like that."

You set a rhythm, lifting and sinking down onto him, each roll of your hips making you both unravel a little more. His hands roamed your body, one gripping your waist, the other sliding up to cup your breast, thumb flicking over your nipple as he thrust up to meet your movements.

The sound of skin meeting skin filled the room, mingling with breathy moans and curses in both English and French.

Aurélien’s eyes stayed on you, dark and hungry as he murmured, "Look at you… made for me, yeah?"

You whimpered, leaning forward to kiss him, the movement messy and desperate, all tongue. It reminded you of the first night you were together, when you had barely been able to keep your hands off each other, drowning in the sheer intensity of it all.

He groaned into your mouth, hands gripping your ass as he helped you move faster, deeper.

"Fuck, bébé," he rasped, voice wrecked. "You feel so good."

Your nails dug into his shoulders, chasing that high, loving how perfectly your bodies fit together — his deep brown skin against yours, slightly darker but complementing you like a missing puzzle piece.

You moaned his name, head tilting back as the pleasure built, and Aurélien took the opportunity to kiss your throat, teeth grazing your pulse.

His grip on your hips tightened before he lifted you effortlessly, his strength making your breath hitch. He shifted positions, pressing you into the mattress as he settled between your thighs, the heat of his body making you shiver in anticipation.

Aurélien’s hands slid down your legs, spreading them wider, and you hissed at the stretch. He paused, eyes flickering up to yours.

"I got you," he murmured, his lips brushing against your knee before he lifted one of your legs to rest over his shoulder. "Relax for me, bébé."

You exhaled, forcing yourself to melt into the mattress just as he rolled his hips forward, burying himself deep in one smooth thrust.

Your gasp was swallowed by his groan, the new angle sending pleasure spiking through your veins like electricity.

"Aurélien—"

He set a brutal pace, his hips snapping against yours with a force that had you clutching at the sheets, at his arms, at anything that could anchor you. The bedframe creaked beneath you, the headboard tapping lightly against the wall with each deep stroke.

"You take me so well," he gritted out, watching where your bodies met, mesmerized by the way you stretched around him. His free hand slid down to press against your lower stomach, applying just enough pressure to make you keen. "Feel that? How deep I am?"

You could only nod, your voice caught in your throat as pleasure wracked through you.

"That’s my girl," he praised, leaning forward just enough to kiss your ankle before snapping his hips even harder, making you cry out.

The sensations were overwhelming, your body trembling beneath him as that familiar ache coiled tight in your core. Your nails raked down his back, desperate for something to hold onto as you teetered on the edge.

Aurélien’s breathing was ragged, his hands gripping your thighs as he pounded into you mercilessly. "Come for me," he urged, voice rough and commanding. "Let me feel you."

His words pushed you over the edge, pleasure crashing over you in waves as your body clenched around him, your cry of release muffled by his mouth as he kissed you through it.

"Fuck," he groaned, his rhythm stuttering as he followed right after, burying himself deep one last time before stilling, his body shuddering above you.

For a long moment, the only sounds in the room were your heavy breaths, your bodies still tangled together as you both came down from the high.

Aurélien kissed you once, slow and languid, before pulling out carefully. He slid off the bed, disposing of the condom before returning, the mattress dipping under his weight as he pulled you into his chest.

You let him, curling against his warmth as his fingers traced lazy circles on your back.

And in that moment, as his lips pressed against your forehead and his arm tightened around your waist, you realized something.

Whatever this man wanted, whatever he needed —you were going to give it to him.

No questions asked.

……………tbd

[dullahandyke]

and like sidenote if i can make a post with a target audience of zero. i feel like fhsy was to d20 what aa3 was to ace attorney but aa3 pulled it off better for reasons i cannot explain

[blujayonthewing]

had an unexpectedly visceral response to a haha funnie video of sam reich telling brennan about how he thinks nat1s are better than nat20s because failure is so much more interesting, and brennan, obviously, being like 'OH you like failure? sam likes failure?? I wouldn't have guessed?? do you like it so much you'd rig a whole gameshow to make winning impossible???? HUH. WHO KNEW'

and like man I dunno, just, something about the specific intersection of having spent my entire life trying as hard as I know how and it still never being good enough and failing everything I touch no matter how important it is or how much I care about it, but also what it's like feeling like you're getting singled out and then punished for being good at something, how frustrating it is in dnd when the DM manufactures a failure out of what should have been a clear success because, well, you're just too good at perception but I thought it'd be more interesting if that ambush happened anyway haha, how it makes me feel like a whingeing spoiled child if I point out that doing a good job and being rewarded with success just fucking feels good, how at a certain point if you're too smart or too good at something people will start getting lowkey mad at you for it

and like maybe it'd be one thing if it was just 'oh yeah I love it when trying your best is frustrating and unfulfilling and never good enough' OR 'hey if you know too many bird facts too many times then everyone's gonna be gunning for you to get taken down a peg about it you smug clown bitch' but man it had to be both

[norrisainz33]

bubble || LN4

☆ summary: internet sleuths find out that lando norris has been flirting with and potentially dating a relatively unknown singer

☆ pairing: lando norris x singer!reader

☆ fc & warnings: zinadelphia & slightly suggestive. you are responsible for the content you consume

☆ requested: nope!

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

f1gossip has made a post

liked by user1, user2, user3, user4, user5, user6, yourbff and 18,345 others

f1gossip: it’s been brought to our attention by an anonymous user that our lando norris has been caught seemingly flirting in the comment sections (for at least the past 24 weeks based off the time stamps) with a small american artist, y/n y/l/n. he’s the only driver that follows her and has been consistently in her comment section hyping her up and calling her things like “gorgeous”, “talented” and “pretty.” what do you all make of this?

view all 653 comments

user1: oh my god lando????

user14: i’ve never once heard of this girl?

user2: how did we not know about this for the past 24 weeks guys wtf

user4: no like seriously…. seems like something we should have known already

user3: wait her music is really good tho 🥹

user7: her song mirrorball??? the girl has some vocals wow

user4: just looked her up and she’s beautiful… i see what he’s seeing

yourbff: screaming my head off at this

user1: and who are you??? do you know y/n??

f1gossip: check your dms yourbff

user5: she’s using him for fame!

user4: considering we all just found out about her…. imma go ahead and say no she’s not

user6: now how do i make this about me 🙂‍↔️

ynuser has added to their story

view all story the replies

user1: ooooo orange or papaya ???

yourbff: girl you fueling the flames with this post 😂💀

ynuser: HAHA i know… i got 24k new followers in the past 2 days since you sent me that post by f1gossip and figured id have some fun with it since there’s no hiding now

yourbff: who knew meeting that guy randomly in europe 6 months ago was going to turn out like this

ynuser: certainly not me girl. remember when i thought he was some weirdo who was just trying to hit on me in the bar??

yourbff: bc he had no rizz but max and p really swooped in and saved him and now look at you 🥹

ynuser: my perfect little no rizz baby boy 🥹 love of my life 🤭

landonorris: it’s papaya baby

ynuser: i couldn’t be too obvious now could i?

landonorris: nah go on then be obvious

ynuser: oh you want me to post you?

landonorris: yeah specifically that one pic you took of us in the mirror last night

ynuser: LANDO that is for OUR eyes only

landonorris: right yes

landonorris: i still think you should post me

ynuser: i don’t know if i want to burst our little bubble yet

landonorris: fair enough baby. you just tell me when! i’ve got paddock passes, pictures, plane tickets — everything lined up for when you’re ready

ynuser: 🥹😭 vegas? we go on our little vacation after im done my tour and you’re done in brazil and then pop the bubble?

landonorris: sounds great to me gorgeous but seriously no pressure

user2: my delusions are working over time

maxfewtrell: i’m trying so hard to defend your privacy and this is what you post

ynuser: what’s wrong with the color orange?

maxfewtrell: y/n

user3: ain’t ever seen you and lando in the same room but i somehow know yall doing it

user4: you’re so pretty and your outfits eat so hard wtf 😭

user9: praying this is a new song lyric idk who these new fans are talking about lando this lando that …. i need a new song

ynuser has made a post

liked by youbff, yourfriend2, yoursibling, landonorris, maxfewtrell, ynupdates, and 54,235 others

ynuser: baby’s first headlining tour was a success! thank you to everyone who came out and sang along with me every night. i love you all dearly 🤍 and for all the newbies here, welcome 🫶🏻

view all 324 comments

user1: oh she’s so cute

user2: starting a y/n fan club rn yall

yourbff: you are making those dreams come true bb girl

ynuser: trying to 🥹

yoursibling: cutie patootie i love you

ynuser: i love you more

user23: the peoples most beautiful princess 🤍

user9: who are all you new people here

user2: lando norris fans. who are you?

user9: a y/n y/l/n fan. who is lando norris?

user2: a formula 1 driver!

user9: race cars?? i did not expect that…

user8: taking note of lando and max in the likes

user4: also taking note of their lack of a comment…. lando has commented on every single one of her posts before the f1gossip post dropped

user16: i was there last night!!! best show ever!!! love you y/n

user19: i’m obsessed with those cherry earrings

landonorris has made a post

liked by maxfewtrell, quadrant, mclarenf1, oscarpiastri, ynuser, alex_albon23, and 823,104 others

landonorris: a much needed break. vegas here we come baby

view all 743 comments

user1: i don’t know where to look ,, at the wh*re in the first pic or the soft launch in the second my god 😮‍💨😍😭😔💀

user9: ok user2… i get it now. also i’ve seen those white shoes in y/n’s posts before it’s def her

user2: omg you’re an icon for this

ynuser: dmn y’all really can identify me by my shoes?

user9: YN WHAT ARE YOU SOING HERE IM SORRY

user2: y/nlando confirmed

maxfewtrell: interesting choice of photos mate

landonorris: thanks! picked them myself

maxfewtrell: yeah clearly

pietra.pilao: 🤍

landonorris: 🧡

user2: i’m speechless

user55: hey lando idk if u heard but there’s a lookalike contest happening in my room tonight. $59 cash prize

oscarpiastri: those aren’t max’s legs 👀

landonorris: you’d be correct

user12: this is monumental

user18: my favorite sinister, evil and orange little gremlin

user14: you’re gonna cook in vegas king

ynuser had posted to her story

view all story replies

yourbff: this dress is eating in a way i didn’t think it would. i’m sorry for doubting you

ynuser: never doubt me 😤

lilyzneimer: had so much fun meeting you at dinner this evening!!! looking forward to spending the weekend with you at mclaren 🫶🏻

ynuser: omg it was so fun getting dinner with you and oscar!! i’m so so so glad to have you as a buddy in the paddock. i was super nervous about it all

lilyzneimer: it can be very overwhelming at times but we’ve got you y/n!!

ynuser: that means so much to me 🥹

user9: mother is mothering … in vegas?????

user12: are you in vegas per chance?! for the formula 1 grand prix?! for lando norris?!

user2: i fr need style tips and grwm’s from you y/n. every time you post an outfit it moves me

landonorris: in my hotel room 😈

ynuser: you got it ☝🏻 now hurry up and get back here

landonorris: trust me im hurrying

user8: i need someone to get you on a magazine cover stat

f1gossip has made a post

liked by user1, user2, user3, user4, user5, user6, yourbff and 19,231 others

f1gossip: confirmed! y/n y/l/n, singer songwriter, is in las vegas with lando norris for the las vegas gp. this seems to be their first official weekend out together

view all 327 comments

user2: as someone who has been deeply invested since the beginning (3 weeks ago).. this is everything

user9: my girl 🥹

user10: i truly wonder how in the world they even met… they’re such an interesting pair

user18: mclaren admin please ask him this weekend

user13: that should be me 😭

user24: ok wait guys im at the gp and y/n was walking through the paddock with lily and we waved her down because we had made some lando merch and she was honestly so sweet and stopped and took photos with us and chatted for way longer than she needed to. i truly hope she never changes she’s an angel

user21: this is so wholesome

user23: i fear she’s on track to become the people’s paddock princess in record time

user18: i have no one to send this to who will get it

mclaren has made a post

liked by landonorris, ynuser, maxfewtrell, oscarpiastri, yourbff, and 432,444 others

mclaren: this weekends most requested interview just dropped! make sure to check out the full thing over on the mclaren app 🟠

view all 329 comments

user18: mclaren admin is a y/nlando girly confirmed

maxfewtrell: he’s leaving out the bit where i had to save him from completely bombing

landonorris: 😔 you’re not gonna let me live that down huh

ynuser: idk what would have happened if max didn’t come over and stop you from explaining why you hate fish so passionately

landonorris: babe please not on the public instagram

user2: lando norizz strikes again

landonorris: love when i get asked good questions like this!

user4: king said if one more person asks me abt wdc im gonna lose it. ask me abt y/n instead

user9: this is making it incredibly hard to gatekeep y/n

ynuser: that’s my man 🙂‍↔️

landonorris: damn right it is

user13: the mutual do you know who i am is lowkey so funny

landonorris has made a post

liked by mclaren, ynuser, yourbff, oscarpiastri, maxfewtrell, pierregasly, and 843,238

landonorris: thanks for being nice to me this time vegas!! oh and thanks for coming y/n 😈🏆

view all 854 comments

user12: i’m so proud of you lando

user9: wahooooo first race i watched and you won. i think me and y/n are good luck for you

mclaren: incredible drive lando! that’s our winner!!

ynuser: something about seeing you on that podium 😮‍💨

landonorris: oh you like that?

ynuser: yes 🤭

landonorris: alright podium finishes only from now on 😏

user19: oh you two are freaks i just know it

ln4: LFGGGGG

user13: congrats on the win and the hot gf 😭

carlossainz55: congrats lando!! and hi y/n!

ynuser: hi carlos 🤍

maxfewtrell: much better post mate

landonorris: why thank you. i worked hard on this one

user2: a win and a hard launch = double win for me

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

a/n: thanks for reading!! likes and reblogs appreciated 🫶🏻

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

disclaimer: pictures are not mine and everything i write is fiction

© norrisainz33 || please do not rewrite, translate, or copy any of my works posted here on to any other platform

[skythealmighty]

can you imagine if like. object show characters were active on tumblr . i mean fans on here but his account is dead so. i mean itd be fun

#rocket talk #roc save #Fan come Back we miss you

(0 notes)

💥 fans-fantastic-features Follow

OH MY GOD NEW TPOT EPIWODHWND IM GONNA GO INSANE ONE!!! TELL ME YOUR SECRETS ONE!!!!!!

1️⃣ theoneandonly Follow

:)

💥 fans-fantastic-features Follow

HELLO??

#oh my god HI . THIS IS LIKE IF A CELEBRITY CAME UP TO ME IN PUBLIC. #ARE THE OTHER ALGEBRALIENS ON TUMBLR??? #/WHAT/

(3 notes)

🧪 test-tubular Follow

My best friend is pacing around my lab. I think a new episode's come out on one of his shows...

#I love him (/p) but he's going to become an unskippable cutscene very quickly

(0 notes)

⛔ nowaynuhuh Follow

i love shrimpy but it feels like he rlly doesnt ... get what i mean you know 😔 at least hes trying to cheer me up? i just wish i had someone to really talk to when it comes to these weird things i keep seeing

💼 emotional-baggage Follow

hey, i completely understand how you feel! im going to be busy the next few days with a finale, but ive sent you a dm if you need someone to talk to ^-^

⛔ nowaynuhuh Follow

thanks, ill take you up on that later!

⛔ nowayhuhuh Follow

...suitcase?

#i dont think shes been online since that last post #i hope shes alright...

(5 notes)

💰 goforthegold Follow

Reblogging this every time I miss my co-hosts!

💰 goforthegold Follow

:(

💰 goforthegold Follow

:(

💰 goforthegold Follow

:(

💰 goforthegold Follow

:(

🎮 iamnotmrkrabs Follow

Are you Okay

💰 goforthegold Follow

Take a wild guess.

(512 notes)

🥈 5centwonder Follow

why do people keep messaging me about hotel things?? i barely even go in two's hotel!

🥈 5centwonder Follow

yowie, you all need a hug :(!!

#especially you baseball guy!!! #im giving everyone in the comments a nice warm soft cookie

(19 notes)

🆚️ wordswithfriends Follow

Reblog if you think Flower winning BFB was a good choice, you like cheesecake, you hate Steve Cobs, you think Platinum is annoying, you're a fan of Dr. Fizz, you watch Jasonville TV, you think Glowstick's elimination was deserved, or you're gay

#they'll never know which one #i'm gay

(3,724 notes)

🔌 electricalmusical Follow

WHY IS THERE INTERNET IN RJE AFTERLIFE HELLO

👑 kingofeverything Follow

OMG NO WAY

🎡 not-tally-hall Follow

GET OFF OF TUMBLR.

🔌 electricalmusical Follow

YOU HAVE??? A TUMBRL???????

🎡 not-tally-hall Follow

...no.

👑 kingofeverything Follow

reblog if u dont have a tumblr

🎡 not-tally-hall Follow

This is stupid.

(10,734 notes)

🍿 stevecobseviltwin Follow

imagine needing to be Consistent to be popular

🖍 magic-crayons Follow

You know it girl!!!

🍿 stevecobseviltwin Follow

AYYYEEEE

#idk who u are but we should hang out Now

(3 notes)

🟢 greenyguy Follow

🅱️alls

(42,853 notes)

🎒 liam-plecak Follow

Oh my god I finally got this thing to connect to the internet. Okay.

Hello, Tumblr, my name is Liam Plecak. I'm sorry for the tag spam, but this is an urgent enough matter that I think warrants it.

For the past year and a half, I've been trapped in another universe with little-to-no communication to anyone else. I've been reading a few posts here and there, and I think some of you might be able to help with freeing me and my friends (I think some of you have powers?). Below is an in-depth description of where I am, what happened, and who did this to me. Please, if you can help, send me an ask.

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oh my god? liam from hfjone is fucking real????

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[wcters]

𝗦𝗣𝗜𝗟𝗟𝗘𝗗 𝗖𝗢𝗙𝗙𝗘𝗘 𝗔𝗡𝗗 𝗡𝗘𝗪 𝗦𝗛𝗜𝗥𝗧𝗦

pairing: daniel ricciardo x fem!reader

word count: 1.9k+

summary: you run into daniel at a race, completely oblivious to who he is and what he does ━━ or ━━ a spilled coffee turns into a lot more than you thought it would

warnings: readers job is a crime scene investigator (it’s important, i promise), some awkward moments (i know nothing about flirting), some swearing, violence, sexual innuendos | may not be the best writing as it is my first time writing for f1 and i’m still new, first time trying instagram dm’s and things like that so let me know what you think!

The sound of the apartment door opening fills your senses as you wake your way into the apartment, pulling your shoes off and putting your keys in the bowl. You brush a hand through your hair as you breathe out a big sigh. When you get home, you finally let the days stress hit you, then you brush it off, and separate yourself from your work. It’s important not to bring home what you do. It would be damaging. As you make your way to the kitchen to refill your water-bottle, your phone rings from inside your pocket.

Setting your bottle down, you answer it without checking who it is. “Hey!” Your friends voice chimes out. By the sound of it, she needs a favour. “Hey. What do you need?” You ask her, lightly laughing as she gets out a “what do you mean?” “I know your voice. Now spit it out before I reconsider.”

“You know how I was going with Kayla to the Miami Grand Prix?” You nod, forgetting she can’t see you. “Yeah ━━ what was that again?” “It’s a formula one race being held.” You hum in response. “Well, she came down with a cold, no one else is available, and these paddock passes were too expensive to not use. Will you go with me?” You can hear her smile over the phone. “I don’t know . . .” “Come on y/n, you never go out unless it’s grocery shopping, work, or when I drag you out. This will be good for you. Plus, it may get you into formula one so I have another person to talk about it to.” You chuckle at that.

“First of all ━━ you are dragging me out, and second of all you do talk to me about it.” She lets put a huff that you know means “you know what I mean”. You do never really go out. It’s not that you’re a hermit and don’t want to, you just don’t get a lot of opportunities to and when you do, you can’t help but remember places you’ve been to at work and what happened there. At least at these Grand Prix thing nothing bad has happened as you know. “Fine.” She squeals and says thank you a million times before telling you when it is and when she’ll pick you up.

That’s how you end up in the paddock at the Miami International Autrodrome, following your friend around as she explains different things to you and fangirls over people. You remember some names that she had told you during one of her rants, and you smile when you see the smile on her face. You’re glad that she’s having fun, that makes you happy and makes this more enjoyable. During your walk, you stop at a coffee bar and grab an iced coffee while she gets a redbull coffee ━━ whatever that means ━━ and explains how the redbull team has it at every race. “You’ve wanted to try that since forever right?” You ask her, trading coffees and taking a sip. “Yeah. It’s supposed to taste amazing and also gives me the boost of caffeine coffee is supposed because it doesn’t from how much I drink.”

As you sip and she chugs her drink, you stop in front of a bathroom and she instructs you to wait as she goes in. You wait a little ways away, tucked out of the way and scrolling through your phone. It seems the person coming your way was also doing that as he accidentally bumped into you. You drop your phone, coffee lid opening and spilling down your shirt. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry!”

The first thing you note is that this coffee is incredibly cold, and that the man who bumped into you has an Australian accent. You bring yourself back and out of the cold feeling, facing the man. He must work here because he has a RB racing shirt on and a lanyard. “It’s alright.” You politely smile and pick up your phone. It’s not. It’s cold as fuck and it’s wet. “I wasn’t watching where I was going and,” his voice trails off as you look around for an area to get something to clean you up.

There’s a pause before “I have an extra shirt in my room if you want.” The man offers. You’re a bit puzzled as to why he has his own room but you’re too concerned on the feeling of coffee in your shirt. “You sure you wont murder me?” You asked, arms crossed and eyebrow raised. “Yes, I’m sure.” You stare at him for a little longer before you nod and tell him to lead the way. “I’m Daniel,” he tells you. You introduce yourself as you wrap your arms around yourself, feeling self conscious at the way people are staring at you two.

“Straight to murder, eh?” He joked as you followed him. You shrugged, “it’s my first instinct. My job revolves around it.” He looked at you with a puzzled look, as if asking you to explain. “I’m a crime scene investigator,” you revealed as you got to a door and he led you in. You take in the surroundings as he opens a closet and digs around to find you a clean shirt. “My job is to determine ━━ well, more like make an educated guess ━━ on if the person was assaulted and how.” You thank him as he passes you a shirt he finds. He stands waiting for you to continue until he lets out an “oh!” and turns around, blush on his cheeks as he apologizes.

“How do you do that?” He seemed genuinely interested in your conversation, not just making small talk to cover the fact that a woman he’s just met is changing behind him. “The main thing I do is blood pattern analysis,” you start, voice slightly muffled as you skip your shirt off, “blood behaves to specific scientific principles as all liquids do, and so i use that information and what blood there is at a crime scene to do that.” You grab the RB shirt from between your legs and slip it on, telling him he can turn around.

“So we can analyze the size, shape, distribution, location and use the behaviour of blood, physics like the velocity and capillary action, math to determine things such as where did it come from, what caused the wounds, and how were they positioned to make a guess or determine what happened.” Daniel makes a slightly shocked face. “You can do all that from a blood splatter?” “Yeah, just like any other pattern,” you shrug while smiling, you feel proud, “I took a course on it. It’s really just looking at what’s around you. It takes a trained eye.”

“I think you’re one of the smartest people I have ever met.” He tells you, and you blush. “Thanks.” You mumble. You both stand there before you mumble about having to get back. “Oh right, of course. I’m sorry.” Daniel apologies as he reaches for the door and opens it, allowing you to go first. You walk side by side as you continue to talk about your work. When you get to the end of the garage, you say goodbye and you head to try and find your friend.

You eventually bump into her at the same coffee station. “Where were you?” she almost yells, “I was so worried!” “A guy spilled coffee on me and then offered to get me another shirt. I think he worked her. His name was Daniel.” Your friend finally notices the shirt you’re wearing and a look comes across her face. “Daniel Ricciardo?” “I don’t know. I didn’t get his last name.” You shrug, not realizing what the big deal is. Who’s this Daniel Ricciardo and why is he so important.

“What did he look like?” She pestered. “Tall, curly brunette, Australian,” she interrupts you with a gasp. You look at her confused. “That was Daniel Ricciardo, the F1 driver?” You look confused until you remember how she was talking about him a couple weeks ago. “Oh . . . Cool.” “I can’t believe you’re being so chill about this.” She shakes her head with a small smile. “I just don’t know that much about this, and don’t really care if he’s famous. He bumped into me and ruined my good shirt.” You tell her, lifting up the shirt. You laughs and let’s put a “true.”

You continue the day as you would’ve, her telling you more about Daniel Ricciardo, and pointing out his car during the race, as well as the other drivers. You’re starting to understand a little more. She gets a couple photos signed from other drivers and you both leave happy. You happy that you learned some new things and got a break from being inside your house and her happy that she got to do this. You knew it had been something she wanted to do forever.

When you go to bed that night after throwing your dirty shirt in the laundry with another load, you hang up the shirt that Daniel gave you and went to bed thinking about what happened that day, and that you also didn’t get a refund for your coffee.

yourusername

liked by yourfriend, kayla.k, and 238 others

yourusername had a fun weekend! thank you @yourfriend for the tickets and to the guy who spilled my coffee: you are forgiven because of the new shirt you got me, but i want a refund for my coffee 😌

view all 27 comments

yourfriend can’t believe you met daniel ricciardo and yet you want a refund for your coffee

↳ yourusername that was a good shirt :((

↳ kayla.k you met daniel ricciardo?!

kayla.k never been more mad at myself for being sick

user1 rip coffee

user2 so jealous

danielricciardo

liked by yourusername, landonorris, and 556,927 others

danielricciardo miami was great. not sure if he is alive but very happy for lando norris. and to the girl who’s coffee i spilled: i am very sorry but at least you got a t-shirt out of it 😄

view all 1,763 comments

landonorris i’m not sure if i’m alive either but thanks mate

↳ danielricciardo always

user3 that last photo 💀 you know he messed up something

user4 you spilled someone’s coffee? how’d that happen?

charles_leclerc from the videos i have, i’m not sure he’s alive either 😂

yourfriend @yourusername

↳ yourusername what?

↳ yourfriend he talked about you!

↳ yourusername i guess so 🤷‍♀️ i still want my refund

user5 he’s too cute

f1gossip

liked by user1, user2, and 62,947 others

f1gossip daniel ricciardo was seen out for dinner last night in miami with mystery girl a couple days after the miami grand prix. who do you think she is? 👀

view all 2,286 comments

user1 maybe that’s the girl who he was talking about in his instagram caption

↳ user2 i doubt it. it’s not like their meeting was a big thing, he just spilt her coffee

user3 i’m just wondering why we’re still getting all up their personal lives

user4 you can tell it’s daniel from how tall he is . . . or the girl is incredibly short

↳ user5 i think it’s just daniel’s giant frame

user6 don’t crush my dreams 😩😩😩

yourfriend @yourusername girl what

yourfriend @yourusername text me asap

You didn’t even have time to see your friends comment on instagram before she’s calling you. “Hello?” You asked, making your way to your apartment. “Was that you in that post?” “What post?” You heard a scoff of disbelief. “The one with daniel and a girl who likes strikingly similar to you on a date last night? You just told me you were busy. Not busy with daniel ricciardo!” She yelled the last bit and you had to pull your phone away from your ear.

“I didnt know I had to! It was just a date.” You explained as you opened your apartment door and took off your shoes. “It doesn’t matter if it’s just a date, and it doesn’t even matter that much about who it’s with, you haven’t been on a date in forever.” You could tell she was genuinely happy for you when she said that and you smiled and blushed. You shrugged even though she couldn’t see you. “You have to meet me at a coffee shop and spill.” “Alright. Twenty minutes?” You replied. “See you soon girlie.”

You were there within fifteen minutes and were greeted with your friend smiling at you. You hugged her as she got up to greet you and then you sat down, taking a sip of the coffee she ordered you. “Besides the fact that he’s a famous driver, i am really happy for you babe. It’s good to see you happy and taking some time for yourself.” She told you as she grabbed your hand across the table. You smiled at her as you thanked her. She gave you a look as if asking you to start talking. “He’s really nice.” You gushed.

Her smile got wider than you’ve ever seen. “That’s so good! What happened? Where did you go?” “He picked up from my apartment almost 10 minutes early,” “ooh he’s early, gentleman.” Your friend teased. “He held the door open to the car and the restaurant. We went to that place on the corner near the diner we always go to. It wasn’t too fancy, it was like he knew what I liked.” You continued to ramble, your friend becoming more and more excited. “Yeah, so, I think we might be doing it again.” You finished, your coffee almost done.

“Y/n. Oh my god. You have to text me after and let me know. I want to know if this works out. I really hope it does.” “I will text you immediately after, unless we end up watching a movie or something.” She winked at you when you said that.

yourusername posted to their story!

yourusername

liked by danielricciardo, yourfriend, and 23,294 others

yourusername all because of spilled coffee ☕️ p.s. i got my refund

view all 1,836 comments

yourfriend I KNEW IT

yourfriend i’m a mastermind 🤷‍♀️

user1 is that daniel ricciardo

user2 so cute!

danielricciardo ❤️❤️

↳ yourusername love you 🤍

user3 is this the coffee girl?

↳ user4 i think so, it has to be right?

user5 WE FOUND HER Y’ALL

kayla.k i’ve never been more jealous but also happy i couldn’t go to that race

danielriccarido

liked by yourusername, landonorris, and 538,465 others

danielricciardo never been more glad to spill someone’s coffee

view all 20,719 comments

landonorris WHAT

user1 she’s an icon already, i can tell

yourusername you really outed me in the last one 😧😔

↳ danielricciardo that’s my job!

maxverstappen1 why didn’t i about know this??

↳ danielricciardo i’m sorry babe 😭😭

user2 y/n is really just a third wheel

↳ yourusername i love my boyfriend and his boyfriend

↳ user3 ICON

georgerussell63 next you’re going to announce that you’re secretly american and from texas

↳ yourusername 🤫🤫🤫

↳ user4 you’re joking.

user5 i don’t know if i want to be him or her

[estrellami-1]

Keep Me (And I’ll Keep You)

Ao3 Link

Eddie hums contentedly as he sits on the couch, beer in hand. The couch is cotton, a soft brown that matches the rest of the living room. It’s one of those fancy sectionals that, up until knowing Steve, Eddie had only seen in catalogs. It’s a comfy couch, and he hums again as he settles in, wiggling his butt and shoulders, doing his best to let the couch envelop him.

Steve, to his left, snorts as he sits down. “Looks like you’re trying to become one with the couch.”

“Hey, it’s comfortable,” Eddie says, giving an aborted shrug and leaning his head back.

Steve chuckles, then sobers. “Y’know, sometimes I think when I move out, what’s the one thing I’m gonna miss the most? What’s the one thing I want to bring with me? And nine times out of ten, it’s this couch.”

“What’s the other one?”

“The microwave.” Eddie snickers. “Hey, you laugh, but those things are expensive!” Steve defends himself, also laughing. He’s got one knee up on the couch, turned to face Eddie, leaning sideways against the back of the couch.

A shout startles them both, and Eddie whips his head around to the dining room, where the Party is gathered. Will is DM today, after a long brainstorming session with Eddie. He’d brought the kids here and is available in case Will gets stuck, but Eddie silently thinks Will downplays his abilities. He’s a damn good DM, especially for his age, and Eddie was actively considering joining in.

Ultimately he decided to let the kids have this one. Erica, no doubt, would’ve joked (at least, he thinks it’s a joke) about Eddie cramping their style.

So here he is, relaxing on the couch with the man of the house, who’s relaxing now that he knows there’s no actual danger, only imagined.

Steve sighs, leaning forward to put his beer on the coffee table. “One of these days I’m gonna wake up and find a grey hair, and I’m gonna know it came from them.”

Eddie snorts. “Oh, man, you think that’s bad,” he jokes, and continues on to tell a story about something the kids had done involving Dustin’s second cat, a balloon, and a car tire. He leans forward to put his beer down, too, and when he leans back again Steve slides forward, head coming to rest on Eddie’s shoulder.

And here’s the deal, right? They don’t do that. They don’t casual touch like that. Eddie does, with most anybody, but Steve is in a class of his own, one that Eddie knows not to mess with for his own heart’s sake.

Said heart rabbits in his chest as he freezes, words drying up. He slowly looks over at Steve and sees closed eyes and open mouth. “Oh,” he whispers, cataloging the soft wisp of eyelashes resting on cheeks, the crinkle on his nose, scrunching up his moles, the lips slightly parted, driving damp puffs of breath to land on Eddie’s arm.

The next thing Eddie notices is Steve’s neck is at a weird angle. If he were to guess, he’d say Steve hadn’t been sleeping very well, and waking him is the last thing he wants to do. He tries to shimmy down the couch a little, to relax Steve’s neck some, but Steve’s upper body moves with his head, and now Eddie thinks the crick in his neck is more severe. “Fuck,” he mutters, shimmying down more, because surely it’ll work this time.

Something happens. He doesn’t know what, exactly, just knows that as he shimmies down Steve’s head slides down his shoulder, down his chest, to land on his stomach.

Steve murmurs something and shifts, turning his face into Eddie’s stomach as he stretches out, still asleep.

Butterflies awaken with a vengeance.

Shifting down his body means Eddie’s arm is free. He lifts it up nonsensically, as if not touching Steve of his own will is better than whatever the fuck is happening, but he can only hold his arm up for so long, so he eventually, gently rests it over Steve’s back and side. “What the fuck,” he mouths to himself.

It’s quiet and comfortable, though, the low murmur of voices in the other room doing nothing to keep Eddie awake, so it’s not long before he begins to drift off, too.

Sue him, he hasn’t been sleeping all that well, either.

He opens his eyes to Will walking into the room before seeing them and freezing. Eddie forces himself more awake, blinking rapidly until some of the fog lifts. He gestures Will closer with the hand not on Steve, and Will shakes his head, smiling. “We’re done,” he whispers. “I’ll call Jonathan.”

The words take a minute to make sense in Eddie’s brain. When they do, he shoots Will a thumbs up.

Will leaves, and Eddie succumbs to the siren call of sleep once more.

When he wakes up, he’s alone.

It’s morning, he can tell by the light in the room, natural now instead of artificial. His back is screaming at him, and his neck isn’t too happy either, so he takes his time sitting up and stretching, imagining the jokes Wayne would throw his way.

“Oh,” someone says, and Eddie looks over to see Steve, pink-cheeked, holding two mugs of coffee.

He seems to make a decision and crosses over to the couch, handing Eddie one of the mugs. It’s blue-and-white checkered, like Dorothy’s dress in The Wizard of Oz, and something about it makes Eddie smile even before Steve says, “Here. Enough sugar to give a bull a heart attack.”

Eddie takes a sip and hums gratefully. “Thanks, man.”

“I, uh. Think that’s my line.” Steve’s cheeks are even pinker now, and he’s studiously not looking at Eddie. “And sorry. For falling asleep on you.”

There’s about a million things Eddie wants to say that he bites his tongue on. Ends up with, “Actually, I slept really well last night.”

Steve’s cheeks are still pink, but he at least glances at Eddie when he says, “Yeah. Me too.”

In for a penny, in for a pound, Eddie thinks. “I haven’t been sleeping super well, actually. You know how it is.”

“Yeah,” Steve agrees. “I do.”

It’s silent for a second, long enough that Eddie begins to inanely suggest, “Maybe we could-”

At the same time, Steve starts, “What if we-”

They break off at the same time, blinking at each other before laughing. “You first,” Eddie says.

Steve’s cheeks burn again. “What if we did it again?”

Eddie grins. “I was gonna say maybe we could do it again,” he admits.

Steve giggles, and Eddie has to work to not stare at him with actual hearts in his eyes.

“Not every night,” Eddie hazards. God knows he wants to do it every night. God also knows it’s the fastest way to break his own heart.

“No, of course not. Just- when it gets bad?”

It’s bad every night, Eddie swallows, chokes on. “Yeah,” he says quietly.

“And- we’ll just call each other, I guess.” Steve runs a hand through his hair. “You- you’re welcome to call whenever. Day or night. Doesn’t matter.”

“Same for you.”

“What about Wayne?”

“Works nights. And I’m home during the day. If I’m not, I’m with you guys. No chance of waking him up.”

Steve snickers. “Unless you sleep through the phone ringing.”

Eddie snorts. “Fat chance. Every little sound wakes me up, now.”

Steve really looks at him. “Yeah,” he finally murmurs. “I know how that is.”

They finish their coffee, Eddie leaves, and Steve heads into work.

That night, four seconds before Eddie gets up to call Steve, the phone rings.

He bolts down the hall, grabs it so hard he hears the plastic casing creak. “Hello?”

“Eddie.” Steve sounds… small. Relieved, like he wasn’t sure Eddie would answer. “Thought-” Eddie can hear the crease between his brows. “Dream, I guess.” He sniffs, clears his throat. “Sorry.”

“No, hey,” Eddie tells him, “that’s why we’re doing this, you don’t need to say sorry. D’you wanna stay on the phone for a few more minutes? Or can I go for, like, ten minutes?” Usually the drive to Steve’s house is more like fifteen, he knows, but like hell is he following the speed limits when they’re both feeling like this.

“No,” Steve murmurs. “I can- I can go, sorry, you should- you were asleep, I bet-”

“Nope,” Eddie tells him cheerfully. “I wasn’t asleep and I actually was about to call you. I’m gonna hang up so I can drive over, Steve. Are you at a place where you’ll be okay if I hang up?”

Steve hums. “Think so.”

“I’m not getting off until that’s a yes.”

Steve huffs out a breath. “No, it’s- ‘m fine, sorry, you can- if you wanna go-”

“Steve. You’re kinda proving that you’re not okay right now.”

“Oh.”

Eddie huffs out an approximation of a laugh. “Yeah. Think you can take some deep breaths for me?”

Steve takes a shaky breath. “Yeah.”

“Okay. I’ll do it with you, ready?” He coaches Steve through a breath, then through three more, until Steve’s able to inhale without it sticking. “Good. How’re you feeling?”

“Better,” Steve admits. “You don’t have to come over if you don’t want to.”

“Stevie, baby, I don’t have to do anything.”

He’s grinning, hamming it up for Steve, and can hear the smile in return, the little huff that means a laugh. “But you’re coming over? Because you want to?”

“Ding ding ding, that is correct!” Steve giggles. When it dies down, Eddie quietly says, “I’ll see you in ten, okay?”

“Fifteen,” Steve counters, “don’t speed.”

“Five,” Eddie says nonsensically.

Steve giggles as he says, “You’re already here?”

“I’m already in your bed, are you kiddin’ me? I got there half an hour ago.”

Steve laughs again. When he sobers, he says, “Fifteen. I’ll unlock the door in thirteen, not a minute sooner.”

“You drive a hard bargain,” Eddie says, “seven,” and hangs up to Steve’s laughter.

He’s smiling as he pulls shoes on and grabs his keys and wallet. He’s out the door in two minutes, locking it behind him and hopping into his van.

He makes it to Steve’s in twelve minutes, hoping the door’s unlocked so he can walk in.

Steve opens it before he can even get there. “What happened to fifteen?”

Eddie shrugs, smiles. “You know me.”

Steve rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling as he moves to let Eddie in. “Unfortunately I do.”

“Hey,” Eddie says, affronted, “what’s that mean,” and pulls Steve into a hug before he can say anything.

Steve stiffens for a second, not expecting the hug, but then relaxes into it so quickly Eddie’s almost sure he imagines the stiffness. “Thanks for coming,” he whispers.

“Thanks for calling,” Eddie whispers back, pulling away with a smile. “Bed? Or not yet?”

“Bed,” Steve agrees, leading him upstairs before stopping halfway. “Or- would you prefer the couch?”

“Why the hell would I prefer a couch over a bed,” Eddie demands, nudging Steve to keep him moving. His words are soft, though, as he says, “Wherever you want.”

“Bed,” Steve agrees, just as softly.

They climb in then stare at each other. “How do you wanna do this?” Steve asks him.

“However you want.”

Steve shakes his head. “I’ll take too much,” he whispers.

Eddie thinks, privately, Steve’s more fucked up than anyone knows. “Not if I’m willing to give you everything,” Eddie swears, heart in his throat and on the line. “C’mon. You called me. Help me learn how to help you.”

“You’ll tell me if it’s too much?”

“It won’t be,” Eddie swears, “but yeah. I’ll tell you.”

Steve looks at him for a long moment. Eddie does his best to keep his expression open and willing. He’s not sure how he’s doing, but it must be good enough for Steve, because he burrows in, tucking his face into Eddie’s chest, throwing an arm over Eddie’s waist and relaxing.

Eddie responds in kind, laying an arm over Steve’s, around his back, and pulling him in that little bit closer. “Sleep,” he whispers, even as he succumbs and his eyes close.

When he awakens in the morning, it’s still dark, but Steve’s getting up. He makes a questioning noise, reaching out for him.

Steve squeezes his hand before placing it down again. “Just going to the bathroom,” he whispers. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

He falls back asleep.

When he wakes up again, Steve’s back in bed, curled up against him, breath whiffling across Eddie’s chest.

Something in his chest cracks open as he lets himself study Steve. There’s a slight furrow in his brow, like even in sleep he’s still holding onto stress. Eddie wants to hold him by the ankles and shake him until all the bad thoughts come out and only the good remain. A sigh escapes his mouth at the thought, wisping over Steve’s face, and it’s apparently enough to wake him. Eddie watches as Steve’s face scrunches and his feet kick out in a stretch. He rolls over closer to Eddie, putting his face in Eddie’s chest, then freezes and pulls back, looking up at Eddie with a confused frown that quickly turns into a shy smile. “Morning,” he murmurs.

“Morning,” Eddie responds.

“Y’wake?” Steve asks nonsensically, but Eddie understands: is he really up, or is he going back to sleep.

Eddie shrugs in response. Steve nods, rolling back over into Eddie’s chest and sighing.

The thing in Eddie’s chest cracks more.

He wraps his arm around Steve again. He feels it, the moment Steve falls asleep, all tension leeching from his body.

He’s warm and solid, breathing evenly, and Eddie’s eyes don’t want to open, go longer and longer between blinks.

He falls asleep.

When he wakes up again—the third and final time—Steve’s out of bed, and the sheets are cool to the touch. “What,” he mutters, brows furrowed, palm on the sheets next to him. The area is slowly warming up, from his body heat, but they were definitely cold.

He sits up, stretches, scratches his head, and makes his way downstairs to look for Steve.

He can smell coffee and pancakes halfway down. The thing in his chest is wide open, hungry, hurting.

Hunting.

He thinks, stuck halfway down the stairs, he needs to stay away from Steve.

He has no idea how he’s going to do that.

He finishes his walk and finds himself in the kitchen doorway, leaning against the wall, watching Steve cook.

He flips a pancake, shimmies his hips when the pancake is perfectly brown, and slides it off onto a stack next to him. He pours more batter in and turns to get some coffee, freezing for a second when he sees Eddie. “Hey, you’re up! How’d you sleep?”

Eddie nods, watching Steve walk over to the coffee pot and grab two mugs. “Pancakes are almost done, coffee’s here, sugar’s here-” he points, “-and milk’s in the fridge. Help yourself.”

“Um,” Eddie says, and heads toward the coffee.

Steve grins. “Not a morning person? I can tone it down if you need me to.”

Eddie waves him off, doctors his coffee, and takes a long sip, humming at the taste and warmth. “You’re fine,” he finally says. “I just need, like, five minutes for my brain to go oh, we’re awake, I should work.” He adopts a funny voice for his brain, smirking when Steve laughs.

“Fair enough. Any plans for the day?”

Eddie hums as he thinks through his schedule. “Band practice with the guys tonight, and…” he doesn’t have any plans with Wayne, but he knows he needs to talk this through, so, “Wayne wants my help with… something. I dunno.”

Steve snorts. “Sounds exciting.”

“Oh, yeah, the height of excitement, I’m just gonna expire from anticipation.” He sends Steve a flat look, and Steve cackles as he flips another pancake.

“Well let me know if this super-exciting thing you’re doing needs another set of hands.”

“Will do,” Eddie says. “Thanks for breakfast, by the way.”

Steve shrugs. “I like cooking. Not much reason to when it’s just me, so I don’t usually do pancakes, but I do enjoy it.”

“Well,” Eddie says, leaning on the counter, “isn’t that reason enough?”

Steve stills for a moment, tilting his head. “Huh. I never thought of it that way.”

The thing in Eddie’s chest grumbles.

His stomach also grumbles, and Steve hears that, laughing as he retrieves a plate. “Here, take some, syrup is in the pantry and jelly is in the fridge.” He stacks a plate with four pancakes, thrusting it Eddie’s direction.

Eddie notices there’s only two on his plate, takes one from his pile and puts it on Steve’s. “Only if you eat too.”

Steve smiles at him, a small, real thing that makes the thing, the monster in his chest ache. “Okay.”

Eddie leaves soon after, quoting his thing with Wayne, makes sure Steve knows he can call if he needs someone.

Steve makes sure he knows the same.

The monster claws at his chest.

He covers the wince with a grin, waves on his way out, jumps into his van.

Turns the tape up until the drumbeat drowns out his thoughts.

He’s back to the trailer in fifteen. Wayne’s there, awake, facing the door when Eddie comes through. “Thought so,” he says, first thing. “You needta talk.”

Eddie collapses into a ball on the couch.

Wayne joins him, pulls him in, like he’s two instead of twenty, like a heart in danger of breaking is the same as a skinned knee. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Talk to me. That’s what you do.”

“I really like him, Wayne.”

“Yeah.”

“He’s- he’s so nice, but he-”

He sniffles. Only realizes then that he’s crying. “Wayne,” he asks, “am I a good person?”

“You are.”

“Why’s the worst shit always happen to good people?”

Wayne sighs. “I wish I knew.”

“He’s better than me. And he’s had so much shit thrown his way. And I just- I wanna help but I dunno how when I see him like this.”

“You wanna take care of him.”

“Yeah.” Another sniffle. “But he doesn’t want that.”

“Did he tell you that?”

“Didn’t need to. I can see it.”

Wayne hums. “Y’know when you first got here, you were scared of me? Not ‘cause I’m Al’s brother. Because of me. ‘Cause my face scared you. You thought I was always mad. Sometimes what you see isn’t how it is.”

“But how do I know?”

“You don’t. Not unless you talk to him.” He rubs a hand down Eddie’s spine. “How ‘bout that Birdie girl? She’s his best friend. She might be able to tell you more.”

“She won’t tell me anything.”

“My momma had a saying. Honesty begets honesty. Talk to her. Tell her the truth. She’ll tell you a truth right back.”

“…Today?”

“Better sooner ‘n later, but I guess it don’t gotta be today.”

Eddie sighs. “Today.” He picks at the knee of his sleep pants, worn with age. “How?”

“How do you talk to her?”

“Mhm.”

“Honesty, boy. ‘S about all y’got.”

Eddie sighs, leans into Wayne. Lets himself be held for a moment longer.

Wayne sighs, too. “Wanna watch that animal documentary?”

Eddie immediately perks up. “Really? You’ll watch it with me?”

Wayne smiles, nudges him off his lap. “Go put it in.”

Eddie grins as he races to do so, and the next two hours is lost to polar bears and orcas.

After it’s over, Wayne stands with a sigh and ruffles Eddie’s hair as he walks past. “Got work tonight. Y’mind bein’ quiet today?”

Eddie hums. “Imma go find Robin. Talk to her. Wish me luck.”

“Y’dont need it,” Wayne says, “but luck anyways.” He waves as he passes into his room.

Eddie grabs his car keys, looks down, and sets the keys back down before trudging to his room to change.

Soon enough he’s walking into Family Video. “Buckley!” He greets happily.

“Munson!” She parrots before her voice flattens. “The fuck you want.” Her eyes are sparkling, though, and the corners of her mouth are twitching up, so he pays no mind to her words. He drapes himself over the counter with a dramatic sigh. “You ‘lone?”

“Yeah.”

“Can we… talk?”

“This is starting to feel like a visit to the principal’s office.”

He pops his head up, eyes wide. “No, no, no! It’s not that at all! It’s me.” He lays his head back down with another sigh. “It’s… okay, so, let’s say, hypothetically, I… liked someone.”

“Steve, got it, go on.”

He puts an arm over his face. “And let’s say—still hypothetically—I did something, said something, that means we’re gonna be in close contact a lot more than before.”

“Okay. I’m following so far.”

He shrugs. “What do I do?”

“What’s the thing?”

“Y’know how he hosted Hellfire last time?”

“Sure.”

“Well I wasn’t playing, Will was DM and I was just there for guidance if he needed it, which he didn’t, kid’s a natural, but. Anyways. I was sitting with Steve in the living room, and we were talking, and I start telling him this story and… he falls asleep on my shoulder.” He groans. “And he looked so peaceful, I couldn’t disturb that, y’know?”

“Okay, I’m following so far.”

“Well turns out when there’s nothing to do but sit there, you end up falling asleep, too.” He clenches a hand in his hair. “We cuddled, Birdie. And then we told each other that we slept well, so I, like the absolute fool I am, said he can call me. If he wants. If he needs someone.”

“He called you last night.”

“He did. I dunno what to do, Robbie.”

“I’m not in the business of telling you what to do. But I can tell you if you told him, he wouldn’t react badly.”

“You’re sure?”

She lays her head down next to his, meeting his eyes. “I’d bet my life on it.”

“So… you think I should tell him?”

“I can’t tell you what to do, Eddie.”

He groans and shuts his eyes. “This sucks.”

“Feelings usually do,” she nods, standing up and ruffling his hair. “But if I were you, I’d talk to him.”

Eddie makes a face. “Today?”

Robin shrugs. “Is there a better time?”

Eddie thinks it through. “Tomorrow,” he decides. He looks up at Robin. “If I don’t tell him tomorrow, can you tell him the day after?”

Robin raises her brows. “You want me to?”

“Yeah. Like… like incentive. Because if I know it’s gonna happen anyways, it’s better if I do it, right?”

Robin smiles. “I’ll tell him the day after tomorrow if you don’t.”

“Thanks.” He squeezes her hand, straightens up. Smiles. “I’ve gotta run. You’re a good friend, Buckley.”

She smiles, rolls her eyes. “Get outta here, Munson.”

His grin grows wider. “You’re a good friend, Buckley, I don’t know what I do without you!”

“Die, probably,” she deadpans, also grinning. She makes a shooing motion. “You said you’ve gotta run, so go!”

He laughs and runs out, waving over his shoulder.

He makes it to practice just as Gareth does, and not much practice happens that day, but is it really his fault that Jeff’s mom made lemonade and cookies for them?

He gets home that night, tired but happy, and watches a little TV before going to bed.

It’s a scary movie, not one he’s seen before, with a girl with long, dark hair, obscuring her face. She seems to grin right at Eddie and walks toward the camera. He laughs, because it doesn’t even look real.

Except suddenly it is. Suddenly she’s climbing through the screen, doing things he’s never seen a contortionist do, and heading straight for him. He scrambles over the couch and runs for his room, the girl close behind. He closes and locks the door, searching for his walkie. When he finds it, he depresses the button and yells, “Code red! I repeat, code red! Can anyone hear me?”

Only static greets him when he lets go of the button. His hand begins to shake.

“Code red,” he says again, quieter this time. “Please help, someone, please- it’s a code red, I’m serious!”

She rattles his doorknob, long fingers sneaking under his door, reaching and growing until they can almost reach the lock.

“Hello?” Someone calls out from inside the trailer.

Steve.

“Oh, holy shit-” he can hear Steve scramble back. “Eddie? Are you okay?”

“Uh,” Eddie says, “I’m alive?”

The fingers stop growing. In the blink of an eye, they’re gone. The girl hisses, and Steve whispers out another curse.

Eddie tiptoes to his door amid the sound of fighting. When everything goes quiet, he opens his door.

He can’t see anything at first. He silently walks out of his room, looking around, freezing at the sight of Steve on the ground, eyes open, mouth agape, and the girl crouching over him.

She’s hissing at Eddie, but he can’t even care about that right now, because Steve is looking directly at him, and he knows what it looks like when someone’s dead, and he-

Steve-

Eddie swallows bile, drops to his knees. “Steve?”

He never got the chance to say anything.

Only had one day to enjoy holding him.

He could’ve had longer, if he’d said something before now, if he’d made a move-

Or if not, at least Steve wouldn’t be here, dead-

He swallows a sob. The girl turns to him, still hissing, and slowly advances.

He closes his eyes. Waits for the inevitable. Sends a silent apology to his uncle.

Except… nothing happens.

He blinks his eyes open carefully, confused when he’s in his dark room. He sits up, looking around, grateful the moon is bright enough to light up his room enough for him to see.

He creeps out of bed, carefully opens his door, and looks around.

His eyes catch on the place he’d seen Steve dead, and it’s a dream, he knows it was, but he still feels-

He dials. Tries to keep breathing as the phone rings. “‘Lo?”

“Steve?”

“Eddie.” A yawn. “You alright, man?”

“Uh,” Eddie says, looking for the right words, but apparently Steve speaks Eddie.

“Am I going over there or are you coming over here?”

“N-no, you- you don’t have to-”

“Eddie. I don’t have to do anything. I’m doing this because I want to. Are you gonna be okay for fifteen minutes?”

“Define okay,” Eddie says, still unsure what words mean. What he’s saying.

“Okay, that’s a no. Eddie, I need you to take a couple of deep breaths for me, okay? I’ll do it too. Ready? We’re gonna breathe in… in… in… now hold it, two, three, four, now out… slowly… out… and hold. Two, three, four. Twice more, okay?”

He guides Eddie through the exercise, pausing when they finish. “How’re you feeling now?”

“Better,” Eddie agrees, sighing. “I’m sorry, man, you really don’t have to come over.”

Steve scoffs. “Unlock the door, Eddie, I’ll be there in fifteen, alright?”

“M’kay,” Eddie murmurs.

“Okay. I’ll see you.”

“Yeah. See you.”

Steve ends the call, and Eddie blinks as he puts the phone back on the hook. He moves to unlock the door then sits on the couch. He doesn’t look at the TV, doesn’t look at the spot on the floor where Steve-

He flinches, a full-body shudder, when the door opens. “Eddie?” Steve asks, locking eyes with him. “Hey, man, everything okay?”

He’s alive. He’s breathing, he’s moving, he’s-

Eddie reaches out for him, face shuddering, and Steve’s quick to respond, crossing the room in three long steps and throwing himself onto the couch next to Eddie, pulling him into a hug, and Eddie can breathe again.

“Fuck,” he mutters into Steve’s neck.

“Bad one, huh?”

He holds Steve tighter. “Dreamed… code red. No one answered. You- you came.” He swallows. “I saw-” he shakes his head, buries his face into Steve’s neck. “I know what it looks like when someone dies,” he whispers.

Steve stiffens, then relaxes and pulls Eddie even closer. “I’m so sorry.”

“I keep- seeing, you-”

“Hey.” Steve grabs his neck, makes him look at his face. “I’m right here, okay? Im right here. I’m okay. You’re okay. We’re both here, and we’re both alive.” He grabs Eddie’s hand, puts it on his chest, over his heart. “Feel that? Feel my heartbeat?”

Eddie looks down at his hand. Feels the rising and falling of his chest from breathing. Feels the steady thump-thump of his heart. “Yeah,” he whispers.

“I’m right here,” Steve promises, also whispering.

Eddie lets out a shaky sigh and rests his forehead on Steve’s shoulder. “Yeah.”

Steve rubs his back for a few minutes, then pulls back a little to ask, “Wanna try and go back to bed?”

Eddie shakes his head.

“Okay. How about TV?”

“No.” His fingers clench, digging into Steve’s chest, and Steve’s hand comes up to cover his, to smooth it back out, to calm him down.

“That’s okay. How about we get something to drink?”

Eddie sighs, takes one deep breath, lets it out. “I’m a shit host,” he jokes. “You want somethin’?”

“I was thinking tea for you,” Steve replies, smile evident in his voice. “How about it? A nice cuppa?”

Eddie snorts and pulls away. “Alright then, mate,” he jokes, affecting a British accent, then back to his normal voice. “Long as you’ll join me.”

“Always,” Steve promises, and the monster growls.

Steve makes the tea. He won’t let Eddie help, but doesn’t oppose to him sitting on the counter and watching.

After they’re finished, Eddie dumps the mugs in the sink with a mental promise to get to them tomorrow. “Okay,” he says around a yawn, “your tea worked. I’m tired.”

Steve smiles. “Bed?”

“Bed,” Eddie agrees, pushing the monster in his chest down and taping its mouth shut. He only hesitates a little when he sees his bed, but climbs in anyways, holding the covers up for Steve.

They get settled, and before he knows it, Eddie’s drifting off.

He wakes up to sunlight on his face. He groans and rolls over, snorting and pushing back when he runs into Steve, who had already been awake. “Morning,” Steve offers.

Eddie plops his head back down and resolutely shuts his eyes.

“Or not,” Steve agrees, amused.

He’s about to speak, to wake up more, when Steve shifts and puts a hand in his hair.

He melts.

He thinks his brain might be melting out of his ears, all his thoughts leaking with it, because suddenly his head is blissfully blank.

He falls asleep again.

He wakes up as Steve settles back in bed next to him, glancing up with bleary eyes. He’s got a steaming mug in one hand, glancing down at Eddie with a smile. “Morning?”

Eddie hums out something that isn’t a word in any language. He blinks, long and slow, but he’s up. He tilts his head away from the pillow to speak. “Wha’s-” he squints at the mug. “Coffee?”

Steve smiles, grabs a second mug from the nightstand, hands it over. “Enough sugar to knock out the Duracell bunny,” he teases, and Eddie’s hard pressed not to blurt out a love confession right here and now.

Except… why not, he thinks. He promised Robin he would. And sure, it doesn’t have to be right this second, but… when else would he do it? He knows himself, he’d just chicken out.

He sits up, accepts the mug. Hums at the sweet taste. Gulps down half of it in the hopes of it waking him up faster.

Steve snorts. “You’re not gonna run out, Eds, there’s more in the pot and we can always make more.”

Eddie smiles sheepishly at Steve. “‘M tryin’a wake up faster.”

Steve rolls his eyes fondly. “You don’t have to be up just because I am, dude.”

Eddie shakes his head, leans against the wall. Can’t look at Steve when he says, “No, I, uh. Actually wanted to talk to you?”

He can see, in his periphery, Steve turning to look at him. “About what?”

He works his lip, takes another sip. “About…” he sighs. “About what we’re doing. About how I don’t think we should.” He ducks his head. “I- I know you don’t feel the same, and it’s fine, I swear, I can get over myself. But I can’t if we keep doing this. ‘Cause I’m, like… stupidly gone on you, man. And I can’t- I can’t keep doing this.” He shuts his eyes. “I could, I could make myself, I could try to tune it out, I could- I could break my own heart. Which is exactly why I can’t.” He doesn’t know when his voice lowered into a whisper, but it did, and the last word comes out scared and breathy.

Steve takes a shaky breath. “You… like me?”

Eddie breathes in. Breathes out. Nods.

Steve swallows audibly, turns to face him. “How?”

He’s whispering, too, and Eddie looks up at him. Looks into honey-brown eyes, full of muted hope. “How do I like you?” Steve nods, and Eddie blows out a breath. “I like you… in the way I always want to make you laugh. In the way I want to always be there for you when you’re sad, or scared, or need help. In the way I want to know every piece of you so well I know how you’re feeling before you do. I want to make you dinner, and pull you close on the couch when we’re watching a movie, and wake up every morning to your face. I want to take you to Enzo’s and play footsie under the table with you until we’re both laughing way too hard and the waitress is staring at us because she just wants us to order. I want to scream it from the rooftops, even though I know I can’t. I want to hold your hand and run my fingers through your hair.”

“You want to keep me,” Steve whispers.

Eddie nods slowly. “Yeah. I want to keep you. I want you to be mine the way I’ve been yours.”

“I am yours,” Steve murmurs. “I want you to keep me.” He watches Eddie for a second. “You want to kiss me?”

Edie looks up at him. Slowly nods.

“Then do it,” Steve whispers in a hiss, and Eddie does.

And he does thoroughly.

“Mine,” he whispers against Steve’s lips.

Steve pulls back, takes his mug, puts it on the nightstand with his own. Turns back to Eddie, grabs his hand, lays his head on Eddie’s chest. “Yours,” he whispers, smiling when Eddie puts his other hand in his hair.

They don’t fall asleep. It’s a close thing, but they don’t have time before Steve has to get up for work.

He hesitates in the doorway. “Tonight,” he murmurs, then falls silent.

Eddie smiles at him. “Come over?”

Steve brightens, nods. The monster in Eddie’s chest purrs, satisfied.

[kaiser-author-san-iii]

Star Light, Star Bright | Fatui Harbingers x (Fem)Creator!Reader

A/N: holy Tsarista, I did not think that it would be this popular. Thank you so much!! It's been a couple months since I got into Genshin, but I'm glad that the Harbinger trailer dropped cause otherwise, this probably wouldn't have existed lol. I apologize for the late update. I have been quite stumped in the plot and just taking a moment to come up with one. If I didn't tag everyone, I'm sorry! DM or reply to be added to the taglist! :3

Summary: Caring for children is hard, but it's especially hard when around the Fatui. Getting isekaied was the last thing on your mind after landing in the icy tundra of Snezhnaya all while your nephew is with you. What will happen when you encounter not only a Fatui Skirmisher but a Fatui Harbinger?

Tags/warnings: female reader, God!reader, Cult AU,

Not edited or beta read, we die like Signora.

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Chapter 2: The Creator's Welcome

Silence.

What could be said while the entire palace and the surrounding area waited with bated breath for their Grace to awaken?

They were fervent - they waited to leave and search for the "meaner" that has done harm to their Beloved but that would leave their Previous Grace with only the Heir for company and guard.

The Precious Heir - they have heard of them only from what was written centuries ago. He was beautiful - he was innocent and was crying for their Grace to wake up all while the Harbingers stood by with the Tsarista finally making her appearance, rushing towards the bed that their Grace rested in, bending the knee and holding their hand.

"Your Grace. Your Excellency. Oh, my Beloved Creator. What has that Meaner done to you?"

Nugget never left your side as he clutched onto your waist, but being careful with your arms as he was told by the blue-haired man with the mask. He was a doctor and clearly knew what he was talking about so the little one made sure to listen well. The Doctor man and the others gave them a room which is what his Auntie expected and though he was focused more on taking care of you, it was nice to wander around the room all while the Harbin Gingers (It was some word that he had trouble saying) always came to check on him and his auntie and even gave him coloring books and sweets and fruits. It was all so good and he made sure to save you some whenever you were going to wake up.

But he especially loved the Tsarista and Columbia (Colombina)

They were very nice. They held him when you were still asleep and he couldn't be there for the operation.

For what seemed like forever, when it was only a matter of four days, the bed shifted as Nugget was reading the latest book that the guy with the funny hat gave him. He wanted to read it to you when you woke up and his wish was soon coming true as he felt movement and looked over to see your [E/c] eyes. He gasped and immediately snuggled into the sheets and wrapped his small arms around your waist.

"Auntie! You're awake! You're awake!"

Soft wet globs of tears started to stain your shirt as you looked down at the child who held you tightly and didn't want to let go. It would have been endearing if it wasn't for the fact that you had almost died from possible blood poisoning from ignoring your wounds. Your Nephew remembered seeing a lot of gold and despite still learning, he knew for a fact blood was red.

Carefully holding him up and ruffling his hair, you kissed his forehead and wiped his tears away.

"I'm sorry I made you worry, Nugget. I promise, I'll be sure to look after myself but my main concern was you."

That response earned a pout but your nephew thought it was good enough for now. If you weren't healthy and in one piece, how are you supposed to find a husband or a wife?!

"Just don't go to sleep anymore or at least for a long time. You made everyone worry!"

"Everyone?"

At the mention, your Nephew saw the clear confusion on your face and smiled brightly, but with a glint of mischievousness as he swiftly, with his small feet could go, hopped out of bed but careful to stay clear from your arms, rushed to the door and yelled out.

"Auntie [Y/n] is awake!" he said with a bright smile that was quite contagious, but it was last minute that you saw a figure by the door, or make it two figures. They had hoods over their head but it was the masks that covered their identities - the sheer happiness was clear from their body movements and one of them rushed out to who knows where while your nephew ran back to your side and started to share all the books he's read while you were recovering.

He's always had trouble reading so it was a feat itself to see him now reading at his supposed grade level. He still had trouble with certain words but nothing to worry about.

While trying to process all that was happening around you, you heard multiple footsteps before the door flew open, and in walked in about a dozen people.

Your face heated up at seeing all the gorgeous faces quickly surround you, pulling your nephew close to your side, weary of what else could happen. But you could have sworn that there was a hint of sadness in their eyes from your pull away from them.

"Don't be scared. They helped us! They helped you! Especially the Doctor man." Your nephew grinned as he held your hand and decided to make you sit up and face the group properly and pointed at the Doctor. The Doctor that he mentioned was practically preening from the praise like a peacock showing off its feathers.

The grip on his hand lessened as you looked at all twelve people one by one. It didn't take a rocket scientist to distinguish the power that they all radiated. Though at the time, you didn't know of the power you held yourself.

The elegant lady with long white hair, icy blue eyes, and who seemed to scream 'Ice Queen', slowly walked up to your bedside with a gentle smile as her hand moved to slowly hold yours. Now, you wouldn't have minded if it was your nephew or family, but this was a stranger. A stranger with a very firm grip despite how delicate it was.

"Now. How shall we punish the meaner that's done this to you?"

Eh?

-x-

It was... a change to have people cater to your every whim despite half of them being just jokes like bringing you the finest gem. The honor of bestowing such a gem was by none other than the 9th Harbinger, Pantalone.

Your nephew was having a great time, especially when he got to get along with a majority of the Harbingers and the Fatui, who took the mission of entertaining Nugget very seriously.

Once your arms were good as new, you asked for the group of Fatui soldiers that you and your nephew first encountered. At first, they were adamant about having you and Nugget leave the palace but you needed to get back to your car and get the rest of your things.

But funnily enough, you don't remember a palace or an organization going by the Fatui in your life...

Not to mention, these people seemed to recognize you and your nephew despite you two not knowing any of them.

If you thought of it more, a headache occurred and the Tsarista was adamant in asking you to save your energy and that it didn't matter if you recognized them. That all that mattered was that you and the Heir were fine.

While bedridden, your Nephew had the privilege to waltz around like he owned the place and even got you some books to read in the meantime. You saw mentions of a Divine Creator, a God-like figure that was first in creating the world around you and beyond, the one that made the stars and skies. A Divine Creator from the Beyond gave life to a speck in the skies and named it Teyvat and thus, its first child was born.

During a certain period when the Creator was roaming freely, they announced that their sister was with child and so, the Creator named the unborn babe the Heir to Teyvat.

The book was quite the read and wanting to know more about why the people around you and Nugget called you the Divine Creator and the Heir, you took it around with you.

"Your Grace, you must bundle up. Snezhnayan winters are quite brutal. People freeze to death here, quite literally in fact." announced a Fatui sniper, the one that first saw you and Nugget as he came behind you and placed a coat, courtesy of Pantalone of course, on your shoulders and your nephew too.

Stepping out to the brutal snow, instead of the harsh snow that you were expecting, it was a light snowfall that shocked the group of Fatui that decided to travel with you.

[Nephew's Name] stepped out from behind you and cheered happily as he rushed out to the snow and started to play, making snowmen and snow angels with, of course, the Fatui looking out and being won over by the child's heart-felt giggles.

They were all trying to make sense of why the snowfall was reduced to just light snow instead of the blizzards they're used to until they recalled that their Divine Grace and the Heir were right here with them. Teyvat was the Divine Creator's first child and as the loyal child it was, it could always sense where they were. Though Snezhnaya was the domain of the Tsarista, the Cryo Archon, the Divine Creator's word was Law.

Ehe.

Everything came to a slow stop as the world first heard the giggle from the Creator and with each step that you had taken, noticeable patches of green started to appear and grow more and more. The chilled winds of winter called down as the grey skies parted to make way for the rays of the sun.

The Tsarista felt the pause of winter, looking out that the frozen lands of her region have warmed up to what it had been long ago before her ascension.

Her Grace has given warmth back to the frozen tundras of Snezhnaya to the point that the flora and fauna basked in the sunlight. "Nugget. Be careful. The snow is melting."

And like that, the snow stopped melting just enough for your nephew to enjoy making snow angels.

'Welcome to Teyvat, Divine Creator!'

TAGLIST:

@lizzhearthz, @yoshikuno , @anonclyde , @khalhaimdad, @ellenoir

@yunsblog030 , @lsleepysimpl, @potol0ver, @kitty-chan33

[dippindaz]

Aaah you did my request :D it was so good aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa so in character and wonderful and cute <333 i am mentally printing it out and hanging it on my fridge. Also Billy not knowing how to deal with people looking after him?? Please, my heart 😭😭😭

If you're still looking for requests, I'd love to see Billy, Eddie, and Steve (and maybe Robin if that's not too many 👉👈) teaching a reader one of their hobbies (d&d, basketball, etc.) Tbh i don't think Robin HAS any canonical hobbies so I'm excited to see what you hc she does in her free time

Oh my gosh the praise is too much!!! 🥹 Thank you so much and I’m so happy you liked it!! ^_^ I did all four characters :)

I love this idea as well!!!! I’m sorry this took so long to get out, I got stumped on some theseee

Eddie Munson — Teaching You D&D

• Eddie is beyond excited when you show interest in Dungeons & Dragons. He acts nonchalant at first, but the second you actually agree to play, he’s pulling out his DM’s guide and grinning like a madman.

• He insists on making your character with you, talking you through all the races and classes in the most dramatic fashion. “Do you want to be a noble warrior, sworn to protect the innocent? Or a cunning rogue who trusts no one but themselves?”

• When you get overwhelmed by all the stats and dice, he reassures you with a pat on the head. “Don’t worry, my little apprentice, you’ll get the hang of it soon.” (In the voice you’d imagine an old mentor having.)

• During your first session, he gives you just enough guidance to keep you engaged but lets you struggle a little for fun. “Roll for deception. No, you can’t just lie your way out without rolling—welcome to the cruel reality of dice, sweetheart.”

• If you roll a natural 20, he makes a HUGE deal out of it, narrating the most ridiculous and over-the-top outcome possible. “You don’t just convince the guard—you have them questioning their entire career choice.”

• If you roll a natural 1, expect him to cackle and make your failure as hilariously painful as possible. “Oh no, you trip on your own shoelace and insult the king’s mother. Good luck with that.”

• He definitely starts calling you his favorite party member, even if you’re terrible at the game.

Billy Hargrove — Teaching You Basketball

• At first, Billy thinks it’s hilarious that you even want to learn basketball. He teases you constantly. “Think you can keep up with me, sweetheart?”

• He’s surprisingly patient when teaching you the basics, though. He stands behind you, guiding your arms when you shoot, and smirks when you get flustered. “You’ll never get it if you’re too tense. Relax.”

• If you miss a shot, he doesn’t let you live it down. If you make one? He acts like it was pure luck. “Alright, rookie, don’t get cocky now.”

• The first time you manage to get past him and score during a one-on-one game, he pauses. Stares. Then smirks. “Okay, okay, I see you.”

• Absolutely shows off while playing against you—spinning the ball on his finger, dribbling between his legs, pulling no-look shots—just to be extra.

• If he ever catches you getting frustrated, he actually encourages you. “You think I got this good overnight? Hell no. Keep going.”

• When you’re sweaty and out of breath, he rests his hands on his hips and smirks. “Guess I gotta go easy on you next time, huh?”

• If you really impress him, he’ll jokingly challenge you to a real game. “Loser buys dinner. Better start saving up, babe.”

Robin Buckley — Teaching You French

• Robin insists that French is the coolest language and that knowing it makes you at least 20% more attractive. “Trust me, nothing sounds hotter than a perfectly pronounced ‘je ne sais quoi.’”

• The first thing she teaches you? Not useful phrases like greetings or directions. No, she starts with the good stuff—insults and sassy comebacks. “Okay, repeat after me: ‘Va te faire voir.’ It means ‘get lost,’ but it sounds way classier in French.”

• She definitely teaches you how to swear in French and then makes you promise not to use it in front of teachers or authority figures. (“Actually, never mind, totally use it in front of Keith at work.”)

• Whenever you butcher a word or mispronounce something, she laughs but immediately reassures you. “Hey, you’re doing better than me when I first started. I sounded like a drunk tourist for the first month.”

• She randomly quizzes you at the worst times—like mid-conversation or while you’re eating. “Quick! How do you say ‘the cat is on the table’?” If you get it right, she cheers dramatically.

• If you really struggle with pronunciation, she gets unreasonably close and exaggerates how to shape your lips, totally unaware of how flustered it makes you.

• She casually drops French phrases into everyday conversations and refuses to translate them. “If you were paying attention, you’d know what I just said, mon cher.”

• Eventually, she teaches you something actually romantic, like how to say “Tu es magnifique” (you are magnificent), but she says it so casually that you’re not sure if she’s flirting or just being Robin.

• If you start getting too good, she pouts. “Damn, you might actually be better than me soon. I take it back, I’m never teaching you again.” (She’s totally lying.)

Steve Harrington — Teaching You Baseball

• When you agree to let him teach you baseball, he acts like it’s some super serious training session. “Alright, rookie, let’s see what we’re working with.”

• If you miss your first swing, he shakes his head dramatically. “Yikes. We got a lot of work to do.”

• He absolutely uses it as an excuse to stand behind you, adjusting your grip on the bat. “Loosen up a little. Here, let me—” and suddenly, his arms are around yours, and yeah, he knows what he’s doing.

• He definitely teases you if you get flustered. “Oh? Distracted? Can’t imagine why.” (The smirk he gives you is criminal.)

• When you finally hit the ball, he cheers obnoxiously. “Look at that! My little slugger’s getting good!” He even does a little celebratory fist pump.

• If you hit a really bad shot, he laughs but tries to make you feel better. “Okay, okay, that one sucked, but hey—at least you didn’t hit yourself in the face.”

• Eventually, it turns into competition. He steps up to the plate and crushes a ball just to show off. Then he looks at you with the smuggest grin. “Think you can top that, babe?”

• When you do manage to hit a better shot, he stares for a second before pretending to be unimpressed. “Eh. Not bad. Lucky swing.”

• If you lose the competition, Steve is supportive and careful not to make you feel bad. He reassures you that you just need more practice and you’re doing better than he was when he started. If you win… well let’s say Steve is conflicted between his ego and celebrating you. At first he might pout and be in disbelief but then he’d also be saying: “My baby’s a natural! You did so good!”

[nalyra-dreaming]

I've seen the episode!!!

(Some comments and) SPOILERS!!!!

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Louis saying it was a betrayal and that he wants to be punished for it just when he finds happiness again via a hallucination of Lestat is so... ugh. Louis, honey, god. Also him imagining Lestat biting him - as a punishment, but he also wants it so badly, baring his neck, not trying to fight it, offering himself up there, he just wants the connection so badly. 😭 And god, Louis having Lestat call him out on his own denial. Damn. And Louis knowing he invited this Lestat as a distraction.

Also... that was definitely foreshadowing to how Louis will think the trial went.

And of course it would be a bat. Of course.™

Claudia driving them onwards, not giving one shit is just... incredible. Delainey is Claudia.

I was also right that she honed her senses and available gifts, more than Louis has his (which fits)

Daniel calling their plight the hunt for Moby Dick

Claudia is also... beautifully hopeful, and thereby almost desperately (intentionally) naive. She just wants to connect, so badly. To find more of their kind. And closes her eyes to what she sees. *deep sigh*

That "Adam and Even and God" comment was hilarious. Oh man, I cannot wait to see what the show will make of / with QotD and Memnoch etc.

Not only is Louis aware of forgotten memories now, he actively pursues them, and he has apparently read the missing pages before. And knows he has forgotten.

Claudia's diaries are unreliable, too (as predicted). Also, Louis correcting his own tale there, lol. Also: Armand‘s look and suggestion there.

Daniel and his little speech as to how he works… you go Daniel. “Here’s almost all the story“ lol

“Human affairs“

The revenants.... "the blood is bad here" *shivers* - I BET that's already setting up the "turning fails" arc with Amel, right there

God that old vampire connecting with Claudia, and then throwing herself into the fire in despair. God.

Morgan's arc was nicely condensed, the scene fittingly horrific

I live for Claudia speaking all the languages, but I noticed some of the subtitles were wrong

Whoever doubted DM happening... well. Sorry, but I AM seeing it. The looks, the smirks, the bitching.

Also "real Rashid" (lmao) - who, btw, does not wear a mask! What if the encounter with Eudoxia Marius had went differently and this is Rashid?

... someone wanting to buy a tryptich they haven't even put up for sale... *coughs* Marius? *coughs* (I mean, who else would know they have it? Or the Talamasca, maybe)

God that Dubai bedroom screams cage. And Armand controlling even the lights with his little iPad. Someone edit a blender into a screenshot of that scene.

The look Lestat gives Claudia at that last part of Louis' little speech. Devastating.

Also: the "I do I do I do I do I do"... Louis. Sweetie. I mean, I get it, but still.

Armand's comment that the boy from San Francisco is still in Daniel. Now if that is not foreshadowing.

A propos foreshadowing: Louis saying he will not choose the fire while Claudia walks the earth. *help*

"We cannot be the only good ones". Yeah... about that. -.-

Louis being so relieved that what Claudia wrote was not the truth

The. Score.

Louis pacifying Armand there with the little touches at the end. LOL (the whole setup makes me wonder if ARMAND has also forgotten some things btw). Also that little thank you kiss

The Groan. Once more seemingly when Armand is displeased, so it could be a metaphysical manifestation after all, especially since Louis seems to comment on it. (It could also be a red herring, we'll see.)

Daniel‘s “we‘ll get to you“ to Armand (lol)

Louis‘ guilty look to Lestat when he tries to pep talk Claudia 😭

EDIT: there were two very short flahback scenes with a comment to memory, which is setting up the big one later, no doubt about it, ugh

I legit teared up so often.

I have missed them all so much.

It's all I wanted, and more. Cannot wait to scream about it with everyone.

Also, last but not least: can I just say how glad I am our writers are playwrights.

[neo91502]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TOMM TIREDSMASHBROS!!!

note for tomm under the read more... lalala💥💥 @tiredsmashbros

ohhh tomm. tomm tiredmashbros, oh do you even know what has happened this, what, past half a year and counting? There has been so, so much improvement these past few months, whether that was to be art or even being able to grow the confidence to actually make a discord server and how well it is and how active it is to this day!!! It’s genuinely felt like it’s been so long, but truly only has been maybe about. since september so like 4 months maybe of the discord server? and so much has happened since then.

Onto the actual much deeper depths of paragraphs, you genuinely have changed my life in ways that I don’t think I could even achieve. Many days on vc’s, joking about the most random things, to the (about) most unexpected things, late night vc’s, the silly sleepover vc’s (technically late night... but shhhh), your paragraphs here, your just genuinely amazing self and personality. Even if you’re just another person in this world, I think you’re some of the best among everyone that I could’ve had the pleasure of getting to meet and know you.

I always loved the times when we vced and went “hey it’d be funny if we watched this video” then did that or, mainly, plan ahead and all. The pikmin iceberg (even if i fell asleep. whoops.), isaacwhy ltlvc, epic the musical, and so much more probably HSJDNSJ. I’ll always remember the first vc I was in with you, or at least the one that I think is the first since I think we both were muted then eventually unmuted JSIDJSSJ I still don’t remember who was all there... i think it’s really funny that like 1-2 months after that, we vced so much and literally couldn’t remember who was there in the first vc JSAKJSKDJD i think that vc was when we had that silly “IM NOT A TYPER” or something i think... I DONT HAVE THE ORIGINAL IMAGE SAVED RN JAHDJDSJ 💔💔💔 and i sounded in such despair because it was like 1 or 2 am for me and i had to be quiet... I always absolutely LOVE our vc’s together, even if i’m caught, i typically don’t actually feel that bad since it’s just like. augh. i have no idea how to explain it💔💔 but yeah 💥💥💥 —> EDIT HERE... LTIERALLY TALKING TO YOU IN DMS AND YOU LITERALY HAVE JT ON HAND. THE IM NOT A TYPER. BROOOOO IM GONNA GET YOU

The surprise you gave me for my birthday and the fact that you did an entire PARTY IN THE SERVER ???? dude i was genuinely so gobsmacked, even if i was late to it NSKDNSKAJA... there was so much going on, i’ll be so fr i literally can barely remember it other than you asking my favroite scene and saying flowerfield sunset and then some bit later you surprised me with the fanart of neo like GUH?????? oh my GOS AJAJSNSNbut even just the MERE IDEA of having a birthday party and the fact that you wanted to do one for me was so surprising and i’m so genuinely hyped for yours like GUH. I’m so HSJSNSJSJSKSKNDJD

as you already know, the drawing above took about 12 hours and 30 minutes to fully finish. honestly, to my first fanart of tsb to this one is just amazing and i wouldn’t be able to see such improvement if it weren’t for you, for your amazing lore of tsb (i will yap about this later...), stealing some of your silly techniques here and there, and so much more. i’m just. baffled at the thought of being here with your birthday today.

oh and your ART. oh my GOODNESS. Where do i even START. for one, i know for a FACT i have stolen silly little things out of your style because of how unique and silly it is and how i do this with all of my friends because i genuinely appreciate and love everything that everyone makes,,, i especially LOVE, oh my goodness do i LOVE how you do your coloring and shading. it’s so unique in a way that works so damn well with how you do your lines, whether it’s sketchy or not, the outlines, everything bro. the rendering gets me the most. you WITNESSED me STRUGGLE to recreate it because i really wanted to try out and do a piece more in your style of things!! i do want to say it had been actually so fun doijg that... i should do it again lalalala... BUT ANYWASY!!!!! i’ve always just. oh my god. LOVE and just BUSHSURHEJSNA i just love how do you comics bro,.... no matter if they’re the ones like your final or the ones like the memories tsb lore... and especially the SPEED YOU GET THESE DONE AT ???? BRO IM SO JEALOUS IN THE BEST WAY POSSINLE... i don’t think i’ll ever stop looking up to you bro...

and now the lore. oh my Lore. Lore lore lore lore . im gonna gET YOUUUUUUU. i’m so INVESTED in tsb’s lore... the creation of this whole universe with cartoony characteristics (it’s literally just. HOW DO I EXPLIJA IT ITS BASISLY LIKE JUST A CARTOON WHDJSNS AND I LOVE IT), pipedream, watchman, the mysterious feeling, the character development. bro EVERYHTING. i cant BELEIVE you hide so much shit in the tiniest things, make entire comics out of what look like such simple asks but no your ass is over here producing COMICS for this bro..... i’m so jealous oh my GOD...... there’s so much i can think of but it feels so little of what we actually know (confirmed) so far... also i see you editing the playlist... your ass is NOT SLICK!!!

comsider all of these paragraphs and everything i’ve said to you already in vc as revenge for all the genuine most kindest paragraphs i’ve read in my life in the reblogs of tsb fanart... guh.... also off topic from this, i realized this is the first time you’ll see me draw emmet oh my god....

i’m so sure i have more to say but my ass actually cant think of anything brooooo.... maybe i’ll send you paragraphs in dms when i think of it and actually remember it GUH.... OH OH WAIT WAIT ALL THE JOKES THAT WE’VE MADE. dude i’m always just being so silly in vc and i think it’s really silly and comedic when you’re over there making silly little doodles and i just go “you should draw tsmg4/smg4 with long hair/smg34” or other alike things.... i don’t think i’ll also ever live down the times when i fell asleep on vc and you were there for i think all of them except maybe 1 ? i have no clue... bro your voice genuinely so calming i’m gonna fall asleep again some day 😭😭

okay enough yapping about that i THINK...., when I first found you, it was literally from the lipbite part 1 comic 😭😭 and i was like “oh hey, i actually kind of really like this person’s art!!” so yk. i followed you!!! if i told my past self that i’d be sitting here right now, typing all of this out, they wouldnt believe me. I’m genuinely just so baffled at the mere thought of being here and being able to call you a friend. hell. i’d even say best friends / close friends bro... i cannot even fathom the thought of that in the past, yet, here i am, able to call you a friend that i talk to about regularly i’d say.

I want to say it again; Happy birthday Tomm, I hope you have one of the best birthdays in your life and thank you for everything.

-Neo 💙

also,,, here’s a silly meme

part 1 of 2 ... i mean. who said that!!!!

part 2 here

[sabine-smitten-obviously]

Good Omens - December reads part #3- fanfics recs 🤓🩷🎄

I ´ve decided to write a short summary each month about the books i read. I need this to let go of the stories, its a nice way of saying good-bye to them and to spread the love to the authors and to you. 🩷

I only read finished stories and rarely one-shots. You will find no WIPs in here, as i really like to dive deep into the plot and i keep losing track of WIPs. Also you will only find happy or at least hopeful endings here - i couldn´t handle anything else.

Also i try to find every author here on tumblr to link-to, but sadly some times i am out of luck. If you happen to know them, please tell them, write to me in the comments or DM me and i will update the post!

Ratings in ()

Multichapter Fanfics

Dark Literature (E) by @unproblematicme

Well this was a first for me. Human AU with our ineffable loves being exes. Ugh. Lucky for me, Aziraphale is hired by Gabriel to work for the same company on a regular basis. But all of this somehow fades into the background as a haunting starts on the 13th floor of the building. Massive ghoststory and halloween-vibes ensues! 🎃

I'd like to think i still know you (T) by @inherently_human

Human AU. Crowley and Aziraphale went to school together, before life took them on separate paths. Crowley actually detests the thought of the 30years reunion, but ... maybe he would meet Aziraphale again?

Biggest laugh: "Age has not done your eloquence any favors, I see." 😂

The ineffable bride (T) by @theravenmuse

Warlock asks Nanny Astoreth to read him a book he got from the gardener. The story is about a prince named Aziraphale, who fell in love with a farm boy that left to make good fortune, but never came back. Now he is supposed to marry Prince Gabriel.

Happiness, more or less (M) by @mllekurtz

Crowley moves into a flat above a bookshop, glad to have found a short lease. If it weren't for the strange noises in the night ... A ghost story, a love story.

Biggest laugh: "i'm not learning the riddle you have for a name." 😅 I love love love this one. It had me laugh, it had me on the edge and it made me cry. Please give this one a try! 🩷

Intermezzo (E) by @feraltuxedo

Crowley is a former Rockstar, whose career as opera-writer was crashed by Aziraphale Fell's official critique. 10 years later Crowley is offered to write a symphony and get a TV documentary on it, but there is a catch: Aziraphale is the one who will be presenting. Human AU, Enemies to lovers, very nice. Also the author has a way of leading up to and describing explicit scenes that had me wish for more. 😋

The accidental understudy (T) by @appleseeds

Human AU. Aziraphale is the stage manager, when he re-meets with famous actor and former school-collegue Crowley for a play of panto. Sweet fluff ensues as both have had their secret crushes for 30 years.

Love Thy Neighbor (E) by @snae-b

Aziraphale runs a successful bakery blog, but recently he is getting more and more delayed with his posts. The new neighbor is simply a nuisance with his construction noises throughout the day and his loud music in the night. One evening his temper gets the best of him and Aziraphale fists on the door. What will he see, when the door opens? You'll never guess. 😉

Oneshots

Naked in Malibu (E) by @cemeteryangel725

Human AU. Crowley is a famous actor, who is home early from his shoot without telling anyone. And naked. Aziraphale is the hired interior designer, who just so happens to be in Crowley´s home to redesign it. The rest is epic seduction and surprises beneath clothes.

Actually a re-read, as the author gifted us a with a sequel for christmas - see next! 🤓

Naked in New York (E) by @cemeteryangel725

Crowley and Aziraphale have been dating secretly for months now. They both have been falling in love and - of course, these are our beloved idiots! - they have NOT been talking about it. But there is this big red carpet-thingy coming up. Oh no, what is Crowley supposed to do? 😉

Hot Blood, Hot thoughts, Hot Deeds (E) by @supergeek21

Aziraphale sorts the books, when shortky before closing time a strange looking man, dressed all in Black and kind of outdated clothes comes in. He has quite some sharp teeth, too ... 🧛‍♂️🦇

The Serpent King (T) by @angela345

After the death of his father, King Gabriel rules the country. But a curse seems to have befallen the former prosperous kingdom. So knights are being sent out to the Serpent King of the neighbouring kingdom. Will they be able to break the spell? A fairytale.

Stocking Stuffers (E) by @cemeteryangel725

Yes, i know - this is the 3rd rec for @cemeteryangel725 in this blog alone. What can i say - she is a glorious (smut)writer. 😁 In this one we meet again with our beloved husbands from the human AU "Of fire and falcons", which you should definitely read, too. In this oneshot Crowley does a little christmas-strip for his Santaziraphale. ��️🎅

Bibbidi-Bobbidi-Boutique (T) by @dragonfire42

Aziraphale goes shopping with Jim to dress him up for the ball ... Sweet!

The Snake Prince (T) by @LTRisback

Aziraphale takes a walk and bumps into a snake - a talking snake. He offers to save him from the cold and takes him to his bookshop.

Sweet, short fairytale i found bc of another artist who made this beautiful Art to it @rocas-are-doing-well

Only Ever Meant For Someone Else (T) by @di-42

Human AU. Every year the night before christmas, Aziraphale drives his passengers for free as an act of charity. This year, when he has finally finished his shift, there is a commotion behind him. Realising the other driver has wrecked his bentley, he offers to take him to the hospital, where his - presumably - wife Anathema is in labour.

Beautiful little christmas story, seasoned with a bit of angst and a happy ending. 🎄

Biggest laugh: “Of course. I can see how this entire predicament is very clearly her fault.” 😅

I loved this story and it stayed with me for several days.

All the pretty girls (T) by @spectrallydistracted

Crowley has made a pact with Ana to date each week for a whole year - or as long as it takes to find a partner. Sadly all the pretty girls never click. Unlike the very male barista Aziraphale ... 😉

So thats 16 stories this time, next year i will start counting for the whole year, just for the fun of it. 🥳

Found something you like? Spread the love with kudos, sharing and loving 😅🩷

Have a wonderfull start to 2025! 🎆

[eternalsa2z]

DM In Your DMs

You were introduced by your friend Nally. After plenty of teasing and toying and asking if you were sure you were ready to meet this model. Not just excited. Like busting out of your seat and bra ready.

You insisted that you were and the Instagram reveal didn't disappoint. She goes by the name 'Doll Mistress' and she is H - O - T HOT HOT HOT. She looked like a queen in her full glory, her gaze admiring her many worshipers as she gives them a brief glance at her perfection.

She def had a bit of a 'rich bitch' or 'ice queen' vibe, which normally doesn't match your sweet girly vibes. Even if her look still made you melt into a puddle. But that doesn't mean she can't rock a bit of a girl next door look. You know, if that girl was an heiress at the next mansion over in the gated community.

Still you couldn't help but be obsessed by this look. Her pony was clearly a fake extension and her faux fur boots were a bit much. But then again that fit her vibes, doesn't it? As if she was saying:

"I'm pretty. I'm plastic. I don't care who knows. Worship me"

Gawd what you wouldn't give to worship in front of Doll Mistress. You'd die if she slipped into your DMs. Or at least you died and went to heaven. Because one day, late in your timezone and early in hers, she sent you a message.

"Hello Kiki. I heard you were a pretty cute bimbo doll who's been having some stupid bullies say mean things. Why don't you let Doll Mistress take care of them...then we can go on a date"

You of course, through your bimbo babbling in sheer fangirling, manage to explain that while you love the support, you are a committed bimbo. Her next DM makes it clear that she's simply chuckling at your cuteness.

"Oh I know. I'm not looking for a relationship. Just a doll to play with"

True to her word, the homophobes and patriarchy pushers slowly disappear from your site. You also notice a corresponding uptick in extra girly, submissive bimbos talking up how pretty you are. It's great because you need the pep talk ahead of your first date...er, totally platonic meeting.

You spend forever picking out your outfit. You need to look perfect. Make a good impression for Mistress. You end up looking cute - but she shows up looking stunning, showing up to your date dressed in feminine finery. Making baby boy blue look as good as girly pink.

She has a beautiful floral adornment right around her throat. Perhaps it's a metaphor for her tight grasp on femininity. Or perhaps a future indication of how soon her ice queen grip will extend to a beautiful bimbo flower like yourself. You squeeze your legs together during the whole meal, imagining the second scenario.

She has you in her clutches from that day on. You're obsessed with her beautiful face and hair. Envious of her fashionable clothes. Above all else, in awe of her attitude and how she rocks her look to the fullest.

The next time you meet in person, your Doll Mistress casually drags a fur coat behind her, like the expensive treasured item is nothing to her.

God what you wouldn't give to be that coat…dragged around behind her…following in her footsteps. She's so incredible. You can't even say anything intelligent, just "OMG!" over and over again as she arrives. Her plush lips curl into a smile, a rare sighting worth more than her entire wardrobe.

"I'm glad you like my look, Kiki. You could be seeing a lot more of it. Come with me. Be my doll."

It's three months later. You and your wife have moved in with Doll Mistress. She spoils and pampers your wife, slowly turning her into a little plastic trophy, a mini-version of herself. You, on the other hand, are her pretty little doll. The one she brings everywhere, even stowing you away in a custom dollbox in her luggage when she travels on vacation. It's worth it to spend time with her and relax at the Bimbo Resort.

"Kiki? Mistress is out of her glass of BMBO. Won't you be a doll and scurry over to the cabana to get me a refill?"

"Yes Mistress! Of course Mistress! Anything you want!" you squeal excitedly, eager to be helpful.

"Good girl. If you return fast enough, I'll let you lotion up my back again" she purrs.

Quickly you bound away as fast as your high heels, wiggling butt, and jiggling bimbo titties will let you. Mistress has been so generous in turning you into her little bimbo pet. Serving her drinks is the least you can do for her!

Plus…the enticing thought of being allowed to touch her perfect plastic body…that's all the payment a doll like you needs. Just a bimbo doll serving her Doll Mistress.

[tutur-ddbr]

For your dirty feral mind.

One of my greatest talents, at least for what I have been told, is...

Sex Analyse

And I'm going to do the sex analysis/headcanon of Logan and Wade. For all minors around here: DON'T INTERACT AND LEAVE THE FUCK OUT OF MY YARD.

Our favorite old man: James "Logan" Howlett

I don't strangely see Logan having a huge interest in sex (at least this version in the movie) maybe it's my Ace ass that is talking but let go threw it, shall we.

Logan isn't into sex, not anymore, after what happened to the X-MEN the only thing he wants to put his mind into, is alcohol. For him, he don't deserve any kind of love, he don't deserve to be touched, to be praised, or to be satisfied in any given way. He don't want a parody of intimacy with a prostitute, or just a one-night stand. He don't deserve it.

In this man's mind, nothing will make him happy, nothing will bring light in this world anymore, nothing will raise his spirit why would he fall for that shit? Why would he get laid?

But after he saved the world? Think better about himself? and get back on his feet?

Logan would be shy, not shy like a virgin, shy like a hurt man. He would not give anyone his trust that easily to the first human being coming to him. No, he needs a special someone, he needs this one personnel. This one personnel who will say his name like a little prayer and make it feel like home.

If he finds out this special someone, he wouldn't be rough, wouldn't be mean, oh no. Logan will be lost, confused about how he ended up here, why the person chose them, and why they even wanted to let him a chance in the first place. But this intimacy, Logan need it. At first, it would be weird for him, he don't know what to do, how to put himself, top, bottom? He's so confused. He would need a hand to get it together, he would need time and patience to get out the beast in him.

But what would he do exactly? Logan would lay on his back, too scared to hurt the person in front of him. He would start with soft kisses, they are bad and he knows it, he is a bad kisser (the man hadn't kissed someone for ages.). Logan will not know where to put his hand, on the waist maybe, around the shoulder? Maybe on the chest. He wants to obey and he will! all the orders someone will give him, so he knows he wouldn't fuck up. Top or bottom he would try his best to stop being as selfish as his past self, he wants his partner to get all the pleasure they want. He isn't a loud one for this first time, he is too concentrated on not fucking up that he mostly hold his breath during each movement. He would beg for his partner to say his name, to say how good he is doing, to say how they love him. He needs to know, that he isn't broken. After the orgasm, he would hold onto his lover for a couple of minutes, smelling them, caressing their body, being sure they are there and real. Looking at him, making eye contact would make this man melt, forehead again forehead, whispering his name, saying how they love them, how good they are. Logan would need love and comfort, someone to hold him and tell him he is worth it. Someone to say his name, and make him stay when the night fades away.

(Would he be like that with Wade? Maybe if Deadpool don't tease him too much and takes a break from his persona to let the other man heal, yes)

We are doing a part 2 for Deadpool cause my brain used all his energy for Logan. (Why I ear boss music ?)

If you want to talk about Logan, PLEAS PLEAS PLEAS PLEAS slide into my DM or my request/ask thing I NEED TO TALK ABOUT THIS.

Also eh, I have a KO-FI liked in my BIO if you want to check out. Later people.

[deltaromeo3]

𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚛𝚎..? #2 ⋆ Charles Leclerc

pairing: charles leclerc x reader

summary: in which the reader does not recognise the famous Monegasque Formula 1 driver; the very same one that was about to change her perspective on the sport and also her life.

— you can read part 1 & 3 here! : #1 #3

A/N: thank you for all the love on part 1! here’s a part 2!! tbh I got carried away… let me know if i should do a part 3? 🤭

— Warning(s): poorly translated french.

"Will there be a next time?"

You were sitting on the balcony, enjoying the Monaco sun with a book in hand and a cup of ice cold sparkling water on the table.

“Ding!” Your phone rings but you ignored it.

“Ding! Ding! Ding!” Your phone goes off like crazy.

You huffed and place your book down, wondering who the hell would be spamming you at this time of day. It was literally 9 in the morning.

charles_leclerc started following you.

charles_leclerc liked your story.

charles_leclerc liked your post.

charles_leclerc liked your post.

Your eyes widened. You blinked a few times to make sure this was real. Why.. and how the hell did he find your Instagram account?

“Em!” You called out. No response.

“Emma! EMMA!”

“WHAT!” She finally responds and you see her head peek through her room door.

You walked over to her and said nothing, instead just showing her the notification. Her mouth went agape and you could see her jaw almost physically touch the floor.

“Wh-what are you waiting for? Follow him back!”

“What?! Why? I don’t even like F1!”

“Doesn’t matter! He’s hot. J-just do it!”

“Okay okay!”

You decided to follow him back and quickly exit the app, locking your phone.

Your phone dings once again.

charles_leclerc sent you a message.

Shit shit shit!

You gasped.

“Emma. He. Sent. Me. A. DM!”

Emma gasps in response. She quickly rushes over to your side. She couldn’t believe her eyes.

“Oh. My. God.”

Silence falls between the two of you as you both stood frozen in the living room trying to process the fact that the Charles Marc Hervé Perceval Leclerc just sent you a DM.

“Well reply him then! Good god.”

“Last time I was this nervous was when I kissed Andre.”

Emma whips her head towards you, “Wh- you kissed Andre?! When?! How come I don’t know about that?” She shakes her head, “Eh! That’s not the point. Ch-Charles! Reply him!”

You quickly type out a response.

You bite your fingernails out of nervousness waiting for his reply.

“Ding!” Goes your phone.

He sure is a fast replier.

You continued texting him. Long story short, he’s asking you out for brunch. You told Emma about your plans and she jumps with joy, clapping her hands in excitement.

“Ooh someone’s going on a date with Lord Percevallll,” She teases.

“It’s not a date Emma!”

“Mmhmm. Sure.” She smirks at you as she walks away.

You rolled your eyes in response.

You looked at the time, luckily you still had a few hours to prepare before meeting him. And like you always do, you went to the balcony to continue reading your book.

You tried your best to read, but you just couldn’t. You were nervous to say the least, about meeting a very famous Formula 1 driver. God, everyone here adores him. He is everyone’s favourite. Even the goddamn Prince loves him…

You decided to take and a nap, hoping it would help you to relax and not think about it too much. So, you did just that.

Your sleep got disturbed to the sound of Emma calling and shaking you vigorously.

“Wake up! Y/N! WAKE UP!”

“What!”

“Did you forget about brunch? Hurry up and get your ass ready!” She says as she tosses you your towel. You looked at your phone. 1:10pm.

“Merde! I’m late!” You quickly got off your bed and headed straight for the shower.

You got dressed in a simple tank top with high waisted jeans, sprayed on some perfume and accessorised with a necklace and a few rings. You put on your shoes and quickly left the house.

“Have fun! And don’t forget to use protection!” Emma shouts as she closes the door behind her.

You quietly laughed to yourself. It’s just brunch, nothing else.

As soon as you exit your building, you were greeted by a familiar figure. He was standing next to his car, leaning on it. The both of you exchanged smiles as soon as you made eye contact with one another.

Charles was wearing a black tee with light wash jeans.

“So sorry I’m late! I took a nap and ended up oversleeping I-“

He cuts you off. “Mon amour, it’s okay. You’re here now. More than happy to see you.”

Does he call every girl he meets mon amour?

You blush at the nickname. Why were you blushing? God help me please.

You sighed in relief, “Thank you for waiting.”

He smiles softly, “Brunch?”

“Brunch.” You smiled back at him.

He brought you to L’Intempo, which was situated in a hotel by the sea. Of course, he requested for the outdoor seating.

Whilst waiting for your food to be ready, you chit chatted with him. He told you all about his life, how he got into F1 and his career.

“I’ve talked so much about myself. Now you!”

“I just recently moved to Monaco. It’s always been the country of my dreams so I decided to study here! I’m studying Neurosciences in Paris, so it’s nearby!”

“Neuroscience? Like… you study brains?”

You chuckled, “Kinda.. but not really. Ah well, you get the idea. Brains.”

He laughs, “Brains.” The both of you laugh. “Why didn’t you just stay in Paris? Everyone wants to go to Paris.”

“Monaco is smaller. And everyone here is crazy rich so who knows, I might end up marrying a rich man. Won’t have to work so hard, y’know.” You joked.

He laughs again, “Really? Who told you that? Google?”

You nodded and he laughs again, “Yeah, who knows. You may be right.” He smiles.

Your food finally came. You took a pic before eating.

@yourusername posted on their story.

Charles offered you to taste some of his food and even fed you some, and you did the same.

The air was filled with your chatter and laughter and soon enough everything was just background noise.

It felt like you’ve been friends with Charles for so long; conversations flowed easily and there was no awkwardness between the two of you.

After brunch however, he decided to drive you around Monaco since you’ve never properly seen the city. He even drove on the F1 track; the chicanes and road markings were still fairly visible.

You sat quietly in the car, admiring the views of the city. It was one thing to explore Monaco with Emma, but with Charles? It was different; he grew up here so he knew spots tourists didn’t know.

Last but not least, he brought you to the Prince of Monaco’s automobile collection. You wondered why he was so eager to show you a collection that wasn’t his but as soon as you entered the building you understood why. There were many cars, but one car stood out in particular.

You shot him a look. “Ah so this is why you were so excited to bring me here?”

He smiles, “Yes! Look, it’s my car.” He gleams with excitement. “I had my first victory and pole position with this!” He explains. Although you had zero interest in Formula 1, hearing his excitement when he was explaining to you about his car was heartwarming. And so, you listened despite not knowing anything about F1.

You smiled as he was explaining, it was cute. You’ve never seen someone so proud of their achievements.

“That’s so cool! So you gave it to the Prince?”

He nods. “I know it’s in good hands so I’m okay with that.”

It was around 630ish when the “date” (can you call it that?) was over. He drops you off in front of your apartment building. When you wanted to exit the car, you realised Charles was rushing over to your side to open the door for you.

“When you’re with me you don’t open doors! I’ll do it.”He says and you laugh at his antics.

He even walked you to your door.

“I’m kinda sad this is over.” He says.

“Well… me too. I had fun.” You smiled.

He smiles back, “Moi aussi. me too. He pauses. “Y aura-t-il une prochaine fois? Will there be a next time?” He asks.

“Why? Voulez vous qu’il y ait une prochaine fois? Do you want there to be a next time? ”

“Oui. Yes." He shyly admits.

“D’accord. Okay. I’ll see you next time then, Lord Perceval.” You teased him with the nickname. “Text me when you’re homed?”

He chuckles. “D’accord.” He walks off and you take out your keys to unlock the front door, but suddenly you were stopped halfway.

“Here,” He passes you his phone, it was opened to his number pad. “I almost forgot.”

You laughed and keyed in your number. “Ok, I’ll go now.” He waves goodbye and leaves.

You entered your apartment to be greeted by Emma cooking dinner.

“Wow finally. Thought you’d never come home! So, how’s the date?”

“It’s not a date!” You exclaimed.

Emma laughs at your reaction, “Okay, how’s brunch that went on for 5 hours?” She corrects herself.

“Good, we-“ You were interrupted by your phone ringing. It was an unknown number. You answered it, only to be greeted by a familiar voice.

“Hello, it’s Charles. I’m on my way home.”

You chuckled, “Hello, Charles. Are you driving and calling me at the same time?”

“Ye- No! I’m… not.” He lies. “Okay, I am. I just wanted to hear your voice, that’s all.”

You blushed, “Charles… it’s dangerous! Just call me when you’re home okay?”

You hear him giggle, “Okay mon amour. I’ll call you in 10.”

“I’ll be waiting for you,” The line ends.

“I’ll be waiting for youuu,” Emma mocks you, and you cringed, covering your face, asking her to stop. She just replies with laughter. “Glad you had fun with Mr F1 driver. Your wag era is coming soon I can smell it!” She jokes.

“Oh god,” You laughed, walking away to the bathroom to take a shower.

[thatswhatsushesaid]

this person has me blocked, which is something i used to genuinely lament because occasionally i'd see bits of their very thoughtful commentary floating across my dash, and i'd find myself sighing sadly over what other gems of wisdom i was missing out on by not having access to their blog. i'd even lament about it via dms to some of my pals who did still have access to this person's blog. what interesting discussions must have been happening beyond that "???" "this is no one" "uh, who??" opaque door that tumblr always presented to me whenever i clicked on this person's username? would i ever know?

a friend this morning: want to see a bad take to get mad at

me: obviously yes

anyway as it turns out, it looks like i'm missing out on exactly nothing, actually, so that's a huge relief

more seriously, recalling the insightful commentary that i have seen this person reblog in the past when it has come across my dash, i am frankly in awe of this one, because it is so profoundly disconnected from reality and how people experience stories. like i'm not even sure where to start with peeling back all of the wrongness layers at work here because i haven't taken my adhd meds yet this morning, but the primordial stupidity at this take's core (coming from someone who is clearly smart, ftr, i am targeting the stupidity of the concept, not the person) has made me genuinely angry. it's not even just about applying this framework to mdzs, though of course it is principally about that because this book DOES actually place class front and centre at multiple points in the narrative. it's the idea that we just shouldn't be having conversations about classism, or sexism, or [x]-ism, in the romance genre, because don't we realize the point is the romance, actually?? these other things clearly don't matter and aren't worth talking about??? and this mindset is so utterly foreign to me because at no point have i ever felt compelled to stop myself from thinking thoughts about a book because "oh, but this is genre fiction, i need to turn my brain off to read and enjoy this, i forgot." or "this thought is not appropriate because genre fiction, i'd better stop thinking it before i ruin the story."

like. i am deeply, deeply sorry for this person, actually, that they are not picking up on precisely what mxtx is putting down in the text, especially considering mxtx has explicitly explored themes of class in at least two of her novels (i'll get back to you on including svsss once i've read it). but also, a critique of class in the jianghu, or how mxtx has written her female characters, is entirely as valid use of fandom time and energy as writing one more definitely original and not remotely repetitive thinkpiece on the power of wangx!an's morally good love to overcome all obstacles (not saying OP wrote any of these, just that there ARE a bunch of them out there).

like. why do you want to simplify the experience of reading and thinking and talking about these books? why do you want to push for more boring analysis of stories? why are you using your platform to encourage this? i'm so mad about it actually. people listen to you, and this is what you're encouraging them to do: think less.