#but that’s what the comments want and it’s wild that they seem to think only 2 or 3 characters don’t deserve any sort of sympathy ever

[rebelsabers]

Your tags:

You’re using disability as a weapon against me in an attempt to silence me and avoid addressing the actual point of this conversation, and that’s something I won’t stand for. I don’t need anyone to define my position on disability or what it means to be a victim because I live it. What’s even worse is the narrative you’re trying to push about disabled people in the tags. You said disgusting things in the tags that should never have to be read by anyone, especially someone who has men in their life who are visibly disabled, and survivors of things similar to the character you’re claiming to defend. I shouldn’t have had to read disgusting comments in the tags that apply to people I know in real life. It’s sickeningly offensive. The assumptions you’re making about my experiences are not only misguided—they’re deeply disrespectful and actively bigoted. The idea that you think it’s okay to reduce the complexity of disabled people’s lives into a simple narrative that fits your argument is disturbing.

I’m tired of seeing these disgusting, baseless accusations thrown at me in the guise of trying to protect some idealized version of a character’s arc. You have no right to weaponize these kinds of assumptions to invalidate my perspective, and frankly, it’s inappropriate. You don’t get to ignore my lived experiences and create a narrative about me based on your own discomfort with accountability and desire to flee responsibility. The real issue here is that you’re deflecting from the actual point—the way Sam Wilson’s journey is being sidelined by this constant focus on Bucky—and instead, you’re using these attacks to distract from your own inability to engage with the conversation in a meaningful way.

Stop weaponizing disability, stop making wild, inaccurate assumptions about me, and let black characters/Sam Wilson have his moment without trying to erase him for the sake of your favoritism of a white character. This narrative doesn’t belong to you, and it’s time to stop pretending that it does.

It’s time to stop making up false narratives and take a hard look at why you’re so intent on making this all about a white character’s past instead of allowing a Black character to have his moment. This isn’t about ableism(and it never was. You brought that out of nowhere to deflect and derail the conversation)—it’s about allowing Sam to have his own space to be Captain America. Your continual attempts to push Bucky’s story into his space while making disgusting assumptions about my beliefs are doing nothing but harming the conversation.

Your disgusting deflection and fictional rhetoric about me aside, let’s get something else out of the way.

First off, don’t try to belittle me with “calm down” or “sounding paranoid”—that’s just a deflection and frankly, dismissive. I’m calling out a pattern I’ve been seeing, which is fans continually sidelining Sam in his own movie for the sake of focusing on Bucky. It’s not a joke when people repeatedly insist on making Sam's film about someone else. Sam deserves his moment without being overshadowed, especially by a character who’s already had multiple arcs. And for the record, Bucky having a 1-minute scene doesn't change the larger issue: this is Sam’s movie, and constantly bringing up Bucky detracts from Sam’s growth and journey.

This isn’t just about Bucky or Sam. This is about respect for Sam Wilson, a Black character finally getting his own movie and story after years of being in the background. It’s frustrating that every time Sam has the chance to stand in the spotlight, people seem to want to pull him back and make it about Bucky or Steve. This is a clear example of the systemic issue where Black characters are constantly sidelined in their own narratives in favor of white characters. Sam is finally becoming Captain America, and yet there’s this need from some fans to focus on Bucky’s backstory—again. Why? Because he’s a white character? It’s no accident that the same fans who are trying to make Sam’s film about Bucky are the ones who refuse to let a black character have his own arc. This isn’t about fandom preferences; it’s about the fact that black characters are too often given less room to develop on their own, while white characters are constantly shoved into their space.

Bucky’s story is important, absolutely—but let’s be real here: this movie is not his. We’ve already seen Bucky’s arc in The First Avenger, The Winter Soldier, Civil War, Infinity War, Endgame, and The Falcon and the Winter Soldier. He’s had plenty of screen time and emotional exploration. Sam has not. But instead of letting Sam have his time, you’re trying to pivot it back to Bucky. That’s the problem. There’s a deep-seated history of white characters being allowed to dominate narratives at the expense of characters of color, especially black characters. Sam having his own movie, his own arc, should be celebrated, not minimized by those who think it’s somehow acceptable to sideline him for someone else’s story.

You can claim this is all about “Bucky’s trauma” all you want, but what you’re really doing is excusing a harmful pattern where the emotional journey of Black characters is undervalued and overshadowed by the the fandom’s favoritism for white characters. What you're doing—trying to make it all about Bucky—reinforces the idea that it’s more important for Bucky to get more screentime than for Sam to have a moment to be his own character, especially in the context of being a black man taking on the mantle of Captain America. Sam’s trauma is deeply tied to the weight of being a Black man in America, and that’s something that can’t just be glossed over by making it about Bucky every time they share a scene or talking about how bucky should be there. You can’t just keep deflecting Sam’s journey and importance because it’s more comfortable for you to focus on a white character. It’s dismissive, it’s disrespectful, and it perpetuates the narrative that black stories are secondary.

I know i’m being overly repetitive for a normal person, but you really seem to be the kind that need it explained to you multiple times to get it. Especially since you keep trying to to deflect, derail, and make so many excuses for this behavior.

You can’t ignore the fact that Sam, as Captain America, isn’t just a superhero—he’s also a black man who has to overcome systemic oppression, and that needs to be explored. But instead of letting Sam shine, you’d rather focus on Bucky. It’s frustrating, because people of color often have to fight tooth and nail to get space in these narratives—and then, when they finally get it, it’s undermined by others who refuse to let them exist without constantly dragging them back into someone else’s story.

So, yes, this is a problem. It’s not about the fact that Bucky’s trauma matters (which wasn’t even part of the post and isn’t relevant)—it does—but the problem is that you and others are so focused on his past and his character, that you’re missing the point of Sam’s story. Sam Wilson, as Captain America, is carrying the weight of history. He’s carrying the weight of being a Black man in America, and that’s something that deserves to be explored without being overshadowed by Bucky, Steve, or anyone else. No matter how much you like that character. You can keep saying Sam has more screen time than Bucky in this one film just for once, but the issue here isn’t about how much time Bucky gets; it’s about how much space Sam is allowed to take up in his own movie. You’re contributing to a culture that consistently tries to diminish the importance of Black characters and their stories.

Sam deserves his own moment without constantly having to support a white character’s journey. So, no—this isn’t about ableism, and it isn’t about invalidating Bucky’s trauma or anything else you want to deflect the conversation with. It’s about the simple fact that Sam Wilson is finally getting his moment, and it’s being undermined by people like you who can’t seem to let go of the need to make it about someone else, someone who’s already had their time in the spotlight.

Someone white.

That’s what this is really about.

"Sam, you are not going to believe how exponentially badly my day is going."

"Probably not as badly as mine, Buck"

[clarisse0o]

The Mayor - Chapter 53

Lucy Bronze x Ona Batlle

Alternate Universe: Mayor and Architect

Words: 1100

Masterlist

———————————————————————

I opened my eyes.  

My room was bathed in soft, muted light filtering through the thin curtains. It must have been late in the morning.  

I turned over.  

She was there. Lucy. Lying on her side, facing away from me, she seemed to be in a deep sleep. I could hear her steady breathing. I only saw her tousled ebony hair and her shoulder, bare beneath my white sheets.

I smiled, my thoughts drifting back to the wild day I’d had yesterday.  

...The deep disappointment I had felt leaving that office. Lucy’s attitude, her tone, had hurt me terribly. With tears in my eyes, I’d sought comfort in Alexia’s arms—and a few glasses of champagne, which managed to lift my spirits. I was furious with her, cursing her, swearing it was over, that this story was going nowhere.  

...The profound surprise of seeing her there, at my door, past two in the morning. How fragile she suddenly seemed!  

At first, I wanted to slam the door in her face, to tell her it was too much, that I was exhausted from it all.  

But nothing was simple with Lucy. I knew it, I loved her. It was that need to see her, to speak to her, beyond all logic or reason.  

So, I let her in.  

...The sheer disbelief I felt seeing her faint. She must have barely eaten all day. And let’s not even talk about sleep!  

Could our situation have affected her as much?  

Lucy had shown her vulnerability—the woman who always wanted to appear strong and unshakable.  

She touched me in ways I couldn’t put into words.  

Were our problems resolved? No, obviously not.  

But yesterday, what seemed insurmountable—her stance, the consequences of our relationship—now felt trivial.  

I had missed her so much. Feeling her so close warmed and soothed me entirely.  

I was no longer afraid.  

I placed my hand on her shoulder, wanting to feel the softness of her skin against mine. I felt a small movement, like a shiver under my palm.  

Without seeing her face, I could sense that she was smiling.  

Suddenly, her voice:

"Are you trying to abuse your position, miss?"

It was my turn to smile at her comment.

"Hmmm... maybe! You see, I’m in a position of power—I’m on my own turf!"

She laughed, turning slowly to face me.  

Now, she was right in front of me, just inches away, her gaze locking with my blue eyes. Stunning.  

"You might start to think it’s you making me weak!"  

She had that playful, sparkling look in her eyes.

"Which is only the truth! I’m irresistible, what can I say!"

I loved this game between us, teasing and circling around each other, without any real control.  

"Not in that hideous colorful sweater you’re wearing! Don’t dream!"  

We burst into laughter together, growing closer, our hands intertwining, seeking, tangling together.  

She added:

"Although, I did notice you gave me your sexiest pajamas! You’re impossible!"

Indeed, the situation was hilarious—me in baggy sweatpants and an oversized, multicolored sweater, the ultimate outfit for a night of sulking. And her in her rather tight-fitting shorts and top.  

I straddled her, looking down at her teasingly.

"So... what are you waiting for to take off that ugly sweater?"

I never broke eye contact. Slowly, wordlessly, still holding my gaze, she peeled off that first layer that stood between our two bodies.  

Her hands caressed me gently, moving from my stomach up to my breasts.  

I was completely on fire—mind and body.  

Suddenly, she flipped us over, straddling me with a commanding look.  

I ran my hands along her thighs, inching up her shorts, sneaking my fingers under them. She bit her lip with a moan of pleasure.  

My hands found their way to her shirt.  

"You look sexy in this top, but I think I prefer you without it."  

I carefully slid it off her, taking my time. It was clear that we were both desperate for each other, yearning to rediscover sensations we had missed for months. But we also wanted to savor the moment.  

Her breasts stood proud in front of me—perfect, firm, pointed in my direction. I cupped them in my hands, caressing them, teasing her hardened nipples.  

The tension was unbearable, my heart racing uncontrollably.  

Her lips—I could only see her lips now.  

I needed to taste them again, to feel her tongue against mine.  

Quickly.  

I leaned in closer. She whispered in my ear, smiling:

"Weren’t we supposed to talk?"

The ultimate provocation.

"I want you so much..."

What followed was a whirlwind. Her lips met mine, and I was overcome by exquisite sensations.  

There was no need to take our time anymore.  

Our bodies craved each other with insatiable desire.  

Soon enough, my awful sweatpants and her shorts found their way to the floor.  

Our moans of pleasure, our cries, and our ragged breaths echoed between those four walls. We were like two souls parched with thirst for one another—a thirst for desire, for insatiable pleasure.

In a shared cry, our entwined bodies dripping with sweat, we climaxed together. Unable to let go of each other, we stayed locked in silence, trying to catch our breath and gather our thoughts. No words were necessary at that moment.

I drifted into a drowsy state, disturbed only by the sound of the shower running. Lucy had gotten up, and without her warmth, I felt a bit colder. A few minutes later, she returned, smiling brightly as she sat on the bed. Leaning toward me, she kissed me, caressing my cheek.

"I have to go, Ona!" she said.

I pouted. "On a Saturday morning?"

"I need to have a quick debriefing with my team about yesterday, and I'm having lunch with my sons at noon. Shall we meet this afternoon?"

"Fine. Are you coming here?"

"Yes, if that's okay with you. The twins will be at my place today, so it’ll be easier to talk here."

I smiled and flipped her onto the bed. "I love it when we 'talk'..." I teased, kissing her neck passionately.

She laughed, trying to free herself from my grip. "I'm late, Ona, hands off!" she exclaimed, kissing me one last time before leaving my apartment with a playful wink.

My heart felt light as I had breakfast that morning. My gaze wandered to the day's newspaper, which I had just fetched from my mailbox. On the front page was Lucy, standing confidently next to the minister, exuding strength, charisma, and determination. I smiled. I knew that was only one side of Lucy. She was so much more than that.

[bloom-into-blue]

ℂ𝕦𝕡𝕚𝕕 𝕀𝕤𝕟'𝕥 𝔹𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕕

Summary: a chance meeting, a lucky run in, whatever you wanna call it. There's a gorgeous lady before you and... Thinking is hard. Just feel? Easier said than done.

Contents: just Garofano meeting the reader in her tailor shop! Reader is referred to with feminine gendered terms.

Word count: 1.6k

Author's note: I wanted to put something out as i mentioned before, and honestly, Garofano is one of my favorite ladies... First sfw fic of the blog. Can you believe it? Wild. Anyway, it is currently minutes before Valentine's so this makes sense to my timezone.

To say life has been kind would be a generous statement.

When you wake up, the sky is barely turning into a pale shade of orange and blue hues, though you can barely even notice it when one of your pillows is inexplicably covering half your face. Your neck aches, sore from whatever shitty position you assumed during your sleep. The worst part is that you know you can't linger on this too much, not when there's your university assignments looming in the back of your mind, ever present and ever the pain in the ass.

…Then, as you take your phone to check exactly how long you have until your suffering begins, you realize it.

It's a day before Valentine's.

Your body is so used to the stress of university that it forgot you're currently still on vacation.

It's hard to avoid a small chuckle to yourself, when your worries shift from impossible professor standards to instead focusing on what you'll wear for the party your friends are planning for two weeks from now. Maybe life isn't so unkind, actually, even if the specific look you want is something you can only achieve by commissioning a tailor. The details aren't too worrisome, not when you've saved up enough for it.

Then, your memory jogs again, making your nerves freeze before you’re bolting out of your messy bed, hair equally tousled up.

You've already scheduled a meeting with a seamtress.

It's taking place in two hours.

—-

The first thing that hits you is the smell of carnations, potent as it envelops you the moment you step into the tailor shop.

Then there's the bell that rings above you, which prompts a woman older than you to glance up from her spot at the front desk, eyes kind and a sweet smile ready at a moment's notice. The first thing you can think of is how utterly gorgeous she is. “Welcome, dear,” she greets with ease brought by experience, most likely; even her voice is gorgeous, damn it. “What brings you to my shop?”

You honestly got lost in the sound of her voice, deep and rich, enough so that you forget English is a language you can – and should – speak right about now. “Uh… I came by the other day. ‘Nother lady, like… helped me book an appointment,” you manage to mumble as you take in the woman doing her best to attend to you. You remember the last time you dropped by, when a woman with straight, black hair told you the seamstress in charge wasn't available at the moment, but would be sometime soon, so booking an appointment would be a most excellent choice.

Now, standing in front of a goddess with curly, violet hair, it seems as though you can finally meet the seamstress you've heard so many positive comments about.

The lady before you chuckles as she covers her mouth with her hand, refined as a noble. Christ, how are you going to survive this. “You must be the girl Sumire talked about, then. Come on then; we wouldn't want to take your measurements when the glass outside doesn't shield you,” she prompts kindly, stepping closer and going as far as to set a gentle hand on your back as she guides you to a section of the shop that isn't visible from the outside.

“Y-yeah, thank you, miss…” you trail off, unsure of what to call her.

“Garofano, dear,” she fills the blank with a smooth wave of her hand and a charming smile. You have no idea if she's aware of the effect she's having on your heart or not, she doesn't let on even a little bit! The warmth on your cheeks is probably a dead giveaway to your current state though…

When you arrive at a more secluded area of Garofano’s shop, she doesn't waste a second before grabbing whatever she needs, though… you're not proud to admit the way your eyes take in her figure. For a brief moment, you think you catch her looking at you from the corner of her eye, but as quick as it happens the moment passes, leaving you flustered and trying to tear your gaze away.

Once Garofano finds the measuring tape she was looking for, she turns to you with a smile wide enough that the crow's feet around her eyes are noticeable. God, she's so beautiful– focus. She just spoke.

After waiting for a moment, she seems amused by your puzzled reaction if her velvety chuckle is anything to go by. “I said, take off your coat, dear. I can't measure you well enough if you're all covered up,” she teases softly. Oh god, Garofano's aware and she's fucking with you.

You comply with her instructions in a hurry, left now with just the tight-fitting clothes you were recommended for this appointment. It feels… like you're more vulnerable than before, even though you're still clothed. Perhaps it has something to do with the violet eyes taking in your figure.

Garofano reaches for your hand and guides you gently towards a small podium in the middle of the room, measuring tape in hand and glasses you hadn't seen before atop her head. “Please, tell me if anything I do makes you uncomfortable. I would loathe to make a lady as beautiful as you uneasy,” she murmurs against your ear before carefully unrolling the tape and beginning her work properly. Thank god she moved away, otherwise she would've felt how your ears are almost burning up with how flustered you are.

If nothing else, at least you're going to remember this throughout all of Valentine's day. Her hands feel so gentle… You chastise yourself internally; she's a professional and you're making this weird! You have to stop thinking about how hot the older lady is! When she kneels behind you with a quiet grunt, her hands are ever careful as the tape brushes against your covered leg… No, stop, you're thinking too much!

She probably noticed how tense you are. Garofano's voice is far gentler when she tries to break the ice. “So… I was told you wanted a suit that fit you as comfortably as could be, while also making sure it looked good on you. May I know the occasion, dear?”

At least you can answer that. “Uh… My friends and I are throwing a party? It's supposed to be casual, but some of us insisted on formal wear, and… Well, here you have me,” you explain before ending it with a sheepish chuckle. “Can't really find suits that fit me well enough, y'know?”

Garofano hums quietly, her hands around your waist making you let out the tiniest little breath. “I do know that particular struggle. At least I can help you in this case,” she replies, her hands gently moving to wrap the tape around your waistline. She's behind you, but you can feel the little pauses she takes to jot numbers down, and by god, you wish you could see the way her glasses look atop her nose. When she starts measuring you up again, you could swear she's taking longer than before for whatever reason…

You hope to god you're not making all the tension up.

—-

The measuring is over in about half an hour, and you're sure those thirty minutes of your lifespan evaporated alongside a few years thanks to the intensity of this gay panic.

“It should be ready in about a week, miss. Please, don't hesitate to come to me in case of any concerns you have,” Garofano said with a soft smile, taking off her glasses as she walks you to the front of the shop once more. You were right, the sight was as beautiful as you thought it would be while it lasted.

You realize… maybe you do have one concern.

“Look, you can tell me off if I'm weird about this, please make sure to turn me down if I'm, like, completely off-base here or if I'm being creepy or whatever, I would absolutely understand if you thought I was being too forward, like way too forward actually–”

“Sweetheart,” she cuts you off with a worried frown instead of that lovely smile. “Breathe, please. In… out.”You're out of breath when she calls you out, so with a quiet whine you nod and do as requested, feeling some semblance of composure arrive, so it brings a smile to your face when her lips quirk up in response. “Now, you're welcome to ask whatever it is that's on your mind.”

The reassurance isn't enough by a small margin, but whatever courage you manage to have is slightly emboldened by taking another deep breath. “Ma'am, you're stunning. I… Forgive me if I'm overstepping any lines, I just think– Um… If it's no bother, how would you feel about going out with me?”

You barely have time to process you wouldn't even be able to take her to the fancy sort of restaurant she deserves for a date, not with the shitty pay you get at your job.

It's… it's better to be upfront about that, so you steel your nerves before Garofano can answer, though you do find her surprised expression more than a little adorable, eyes wide and lips slightly parted. She's as gorgeous as she's cute– focus!

“I can't really take you to some five star restaurant… I know it's honestly a pretty bad offer, you should just forget I brought this up.”

Before your spirits can somehow deflate any more, Garofano takes a step forward and the sound of her heels shuts your train of thought down immediately. “Darling,” she begins with a gentle tone and a smile that is equally as sweet, “I don't think of myself as a woman who needs the highest luxuries. You're a beautiful prospect, I will gladly give you that.” The chuckle she gives in response to your flabbergasted expression is worth any sort of embarrassment you could've felt this entire morning. “Perhaps tomorrow could be a good time for our… date?”

The widest smile rises to your lips at the generous offer.

Maybe Valentine's day won't be so boring for a change.

[twistedminutia]

Hiiii I’m a big fan of your writing!! A million and one minutia is so fantastic and fun!! You do such a good job of writing all the characters- they really feel like full complex people who are having their own experiences and thoughts throughout the scenes! And I really love how you write Malleus! I feel like you do a great job of capturing his other-worldliness and how he could seem so intimidating/unapproachable, while still writing him as someone who has his own thoughts and feelings and just has a very different approach to the world than Gray!

You mentioned that people can submit ideas via your tumblr? I hope this is not overstepping (if it is then please just ignore this part!!!) I was wondering if you had any thoughts on amusement activities in Twisted Wonderland vs earth- like do they have roller coasters, do they have crazy magic-powered entertainment experiences, etc. And I’m also curious about how the twisted wonderland folks would feel about amusement parks we have- either ones like Disney that ‘capture the magic’ with their attractions, or our thrill rides, or the older, buck wild attractions of Coney Island and the like. Anyways, I love your work! I hope you keep having fun with it!!

Wow, thank you! That's a really amazing compliment. I always strive to make my characters feel like real people- especially because I think one of Twst's strong suits is making characters pretty complex and varied. I do try to write by thinking about what every character is thinking in a scene and how their personalities bounce off each other- which might be why I struggle balancing scenes with a lot of characters.

Malleus, to me is a character who is best written when he is written as a person who's pretty strange with no understanding that he is strange and a complete confidence that he is perfectly sensible and everyone else is just weird. He's stoic and reserved, and he's very intelligent, but lacks common sense and experience, so he tends to be just slightly out of step with everyone else. He's a good person at heart, but he struggles to stay in tune with most other people around him. I find him very endearing as a character because he both seems to struggle with loneliness and struggle with reaching out, which is something I have trouble with as well.

As for the second part of your ask... Hm. I don't know if I'd ever want to do a chapter on this, if only because I feel like a lot of the thoughts about amusement parks in Twisted Wonderland got answered by the Playful Land event. (Also because I can't think of a premise for Gray and her friends to be going to an amusement part during the school year... maybe a school trip, I guess?) Anyway, in Playful Land, it was confirmed that they do have roller coasters (and I think Ace confirmed he'd been on one before) and they have some magical attractions, like the undersea attraction Leona, Jack, and Kalim go to. There does seem to be some limits on how extensive the attractions tend to get, though- Leona comments on how impressive and lifelike the fish are.

Personally, I think larger and more extensive amusement parks would probably have at least a couple immersive magic experiences- either things like the undersea attraction, where you're able to step into a new, immersive location, or maybe something where magic powers a ride- maybe you can fly within a restricted area or something along those lines. Smaller amusement parks might not have the same thing, depending on how much effort it takes to make the attractions.

I think our NRC students would probably think our amusement parks are pretty cool- I'd imagine they have some of their own there as well. They might be safer in Twisted Wonderland, since magic might be incorporated into the ride as a precaution, so they might think the level of accidents we have on those rides is a bit scary! But I think the parks they'd like would depend on their personality. Ace, for example, probably really likes thrill rides. Trey might prefer something a little more sedate. I think Sebek would either really love roller coasters or really hate them. I think Riddle might like a carousel for some reason? I just think it would suit him. Silver too, though he might fall asleep. For some reason, I think Malleus would like ferris wheels? I think he'd find them interesting, and would like looking out over the world. Floyd probably LOVES thrill rides. Azul, on the other hand, would probably hate them (I don't think he'd like amusement parks that much... he doesn't seem like a ride guy to me, and he wouldn't like the food, and he'd probably immediately catch on to the fact that all the games are rigged. The most fun he'd have would be examining business practices and trying to set up the games at the Mostro Lounge.)

[a-man-in-the-crowd]

hihi i love everything about this post BUT i heard you mention the original william wilson being a cardsharper and came running to yap forgive me LMAO

i have like a huge card hyperfixation and when i read william wilson the main thing that rlly stuck with me is the card scene and since then i've been trying to think how that might relate to nevermore. after all, strategy games are a huge motif in this comic.

a theory i've seen going around is that will is supposed to be wilson, the dopplegänger, and montresor takes the place of the narrator. there's a lot to talk about there, but something i wanted to mention was that while will is never shown to play cards, monty is.

and, forgive me for perhaps reading a bit too much into this, but based on his 'ace in the hole' comment, it'd seem he's specifically referencing stud poker but like idk maybe he's just using whatever poker-related phrase to get his point across, it doesn't rlly matter i'm just yapping

in william wilson, wilson exposes william as a cheater at an underground casino (? idk some underground betting place). if the theory that will is wilson and monty is william then, well, i can only wonder how monty's been cheating. just a thought idk

back to the ace in the hole thing, i'm taking this to mean monty sees people as cards, things to use when need. if ada's his ace, what does that make will?

i think will is monty's wild card. wild cards are basically any card that by that game's rules can act as any other card (e.g: to make a straight/flush or five of a kind) yk. like will. who's always turning into who he needs to be to assist monty.

another way to look at it is that will is already playing cards without making it obvious.

basically every card game has the concept of keeping your cards to yourself, or at least not giving them all away. like in this scene that keeps me up at night!

whether from monty's instruction or by his own accord, will very deliberately chooses to reveal an ability that even he would think is useless. after all, who needs more of him? we know he has serious self-esteem issues, there's no way he thinks his duplication ability is useful. he can afford to reveal this ability, or card, because no one cares and if anything it'll make people deem him less of a threat. no need to pay attention to him!

he also has crazy good memory, too. he perfectly mimicks duke's appearance, save for the colour of his bowtie that no one would have noticed were it not for eulalie already being suspicious due to her rods (i don't doubt eula would have noticed anything amiss even without her rods, but it definitely helped that she had them), and the same for lenore. mind you, he's barely seen either of these people and of the two times he's met duke one of them was out of his uniform.

this trait of his probably wasn't written with cards in mind and rather for plot convenience (which is fine, of course) but if i REALLY wanted to fit this in to my card game nonsense, it's worth noting that memory is very important in a lot of card games. you gotta keep track of which cards have been played or given out, the number of cards in each player's hands, etc etc. all those little details. much like how will is very accurate in keeping track of the details people's appearances.

and one last thing. yk how the main colours in playing cards are black and red? i'm just saying!

anyways yes you get it!! the fact will uses ribbons as his weapon?? he entangles other people?? i'm thinking maybe it reflects how in life he always wanted people to be dragged into his shit and not the other way around, or how whatever stuff he got pulled into eventually hurt the people around him but like honestly no clue

Fellow William analyst, greetings! I hope you are well, I hope you don't mind a question/ask.

I am curious about your thoughts on the lack of reaction we see of Will at the "one life" reveal at the dinner scene, if you haven't already shared your thoughts before! We know Annabel wasn't shocked, but what about Will?

It took me longer to answer than I thought, sorry

I'm not sure I can say anything new, but yes, it's pretty damn suspicious. The composition of the frame stylized as broken glass, makes it easy to draw Will with everyone, and a frame later we see him with other panicking students, so RnF didn't show his reaction quite intentionally.

But I also want to talk about his behavior further. In the next episode, Will doesn't behave the way you expect him to. Given his weak-willed personality, it seems like he should be scared and overwhelmed by the prospect of a survival game (like Morella for example) but he's confused at best, and moreover, confused by everyone else's reactions. He even tries to justify the deans, basically gaslighting the rest of the students.

Will is not afraid, but he does not understand why others are. I have only two possible explanations: either he knew, or he just doesn't care, just like Annabel. Or maybe both.

Maybe he has played these games before. Maybe he doesn't plan to fight for a second life (at least not in Nevermore, again just like Annabel). Maybe because he is somehow connected with the academic staff with all his doll aesthetic, there is no second life for him in general, he just works there. There are many options, but here I would prefer to focus on his parallels with Annabel - two characters whose reactions we don't see in this frame.

This is actually not the only scene where they are absent, contrary to common sense. In episode 6 we see the merit board for the first time. Most of the names on it are blurred, but some can be distinguished. Among them are Lenore, Annabel, Duke, Morella, Ada, Prospero and Will. All of them, except Annabel and Will, are present in the room at this moment.

I wouldn't have paid much attention to this scene if it weren't for Prospero. Why is he there? He doesn't speak a single line, and we haven't been introduced to him as a character yet. His presence here is useless. So maybe the idea really was for all the characters whose names were visible on the board to be in the scene(or at least have already been introduced, like Annabel).

So what about Will? My main problem with shapeshifter characters is that they can be anyone, anywhere, at any point in the story. Especially if they can also create their own copies. He could have already been introduced and we just didn't notice.

Now let's talk about the games these kids love to play so much. We know that Annabel is a talented chess player, and Montresor constantly uses card game slang. But did you know that it was William Wilson from Poe's original story who was a cardsharper? I just think it's such an interesting detail. Nevermore`s Will has never been seen like this, but considering how much of a board game aesthetic this webtoon has, I think it's important to note this.

And finally, there is a similarity that also makes them very different: both Annabel and Will have ribbons as an essential symbol, but it has a completely opposite meaning for each of them. For Annabel, the ribbons are a symbol of madness, fear, and perhaps her golden cage. It appears in her hallucinations after Lenore's fake death, as well as when Ada shows her her main fear.

Will, on the other hand? The ribbons are his weapon. He uses them to tangle other people. Curious, although his spectre is obviously a marionette, he doesn't have a control bar for strings, he controls the strings himself (not always successful but still).

No matter how weak-willed Will is, he's the only one in Annabel's group who isn't influenced by her. She blackmails Montresor, Prospero respects her as a leader and friend, Ada admires and envies her. But she doesn't have anything on Will. In the chess allegory, he will obviously be a pawn (and I`ll write a whole post about it, I swear), but not Annabel's pawn. I have an idea that sooner or later, Montresor will think of using Will to find dirt on Annabel in revenge. After all, given their spectre abilities, it's easier for them to find out lenabel's secret.

So, let's summarize what we found. Absolutely nothing. This post turned out to be longer than I had planned, because I was a little carried away, but I hope you found something interesting for yourself in this stream of thoughts.

Here, take funny little Will everyone. He deserves to be noticed.

[mistymoth]

Me: “I shouldn’t read comments anymore 😮‍💨”

*reads a few more chapters… scrolls to the comment section*

[match-your-steps]

just read a review of the lego movie from 2014 and it is genuinely a horrible piece of literature and through perusing the comments underneath the review, I have gained an intense dislike of the reviewer. it's not even that I liked the lego movie and he didn't it's just that a lot of the stuff he says is factually incorrect, really stupid-sounding, or he doesn't provide any real reason, and in the comments, he reacts to even the friendliest and politest constructive criticism as if it's a personal attack on him.

[yoru-exe]

PHAINON ࣪ ִֶָ ⋆ . call my name

as overly formal and unnecessary as it sounds, the amphoreus' hero has always been lord phainon to you. while it comes with great honour and respect, much like how it applies to your master; lady aglaea, it feels like there's a barrier between you and him, and he doesn't really like that, considering that he'd like to know you better, closer.

so naturally, he revels in making you drop the honourary title, and the best way to make you do so (based on his countless personal experiments of trial-and-error, which he very much enjoyed) is to catch you off guard. shock you enough to make you forget all about the formality, enough to make you see him not as just amphoreus' hero, but as phainon himself.

one of the times that happened was when you found a lost little girl in the wood. so you asked around the village nearby if she's familiar. you were starting to get some leads when you stumbled upon an elderly man who commented, "my, what lovely family you three look".

"no, we're not-".

"well, thank you so much, good sir. unfortunately, they're not family members. we're actually looking for this child's parents. although i'd like to note that i do look forward to starting a family with this woman".

"phainon!".

of course, that's just one method of making you fall into his plan. there's trill in guessing how you'll react. the blush that never fail to paint your face rosy red always manage to make him fall deeper for you. but nothing made him completely weak than you calling his name consciously out of your own choice.

not even mydei's hardest punch to his gut could do as much damage as you do in this situation.

he was looking at the moon one night all alone when you appeared beside him. "someone seems busy with his thought. would he be so generous to share?", a teasing tone laced your words, making him chuckled. you always seem to know how to calm his nerve when it's going wild.

"just.. thinking about the battle to come. do you think we'll make it this time?". from the hill you're standing on, the ruins around the perimeter glowed under the moonlight. the destruction they faced was unmistakable. from the way he sympathetically shifted his gaze upon them, you guessed that perhaps it's from his previous battle, one that you didn't embark together with, one that he failed.

without warning, you took his hand in yours, caressing circles on the scars on it, a gentle smile gracing your lips. "of course we will, because you have me by your side", you announced pridefully, so full of confidence that it felt contagious on him. "and you by mine, phainon".

you voice was so low, as if a whisper of a mother soothing her crying child, or a girl confessing to her lover of her affection. but he heard you loud and clear.

although, he felt like he needed you to repeat that again because his system was in a mess from you saying his name that he didn't get to savour it to its fullest.

"no, that only come once".

safe to say that he spent the rest of the night begging that you call his name like you just did. but where's the fun in a challenge if you just give him what he wants?

⊹₊ author's note ₊⊹

this is kinda silly, but someone implied that phainon isn't as innocent as what we originally thought he would be did something to my brain chemistry. and you know what? good for him. this man needs some fun before he d***

[cheer-nympho]

Steve was always being brushed off when he asked people to read things aloud for him,

In middle school his assigned partner for their ‘Frankenstein’ project gave him a scornful glare and ignored him when he had asked them to read the passages aloud.

In his sophomore year, he’d turned to ask Robin Buckley to read a old newspaper article about the ‘Wild West’ to him, because he couldn’t make it out through the fonts and weird words. She had fixed him with a cold look but before she could respond, Tammy was tapping his shoulder offering her help.

Then, while studying with Nancy and Barb at lunch, Steve had asked for help reading study cards. His own study cards. The paper was too bright and the squiggles too squiggly. Both of them had looked at him, them each other, clearly trying to decide if it was a joke.

Barb had scoffed under Nancys pointed look and gone back to her own notes. And while Nancy hadn’t read them out for him, she had handed him her own notes on some nice blue and yellow cards. It took him a while, but he could read them. Maybe she thought he hadn’t wrote any.

After that, he went a long time without asking anyone to read him things. Turns out that once you graduate, reading isn’t much of an issue. He’d gotten by just fine by looking at his Archie comics and ignoring the swirling lines of articles surrounding them.

He didn’t need to ask again until Scoops Ahoy. For a cheap, overly themed ice cream parlour there sure was a whole lot of memorising and reading to be done. He couldn’t see the charts properly, couldn’t really make out the dates on the tubs in the freezer. But every time he asked Robin for help, her frown would deepen and deepen until she just snapped. It hadn’t been that mean, really. Just an annoyed yell followed by accusations of being lazy, her not understanding how he managed to graduate, one last comment of him being a ‘bumbling idiot’.

After the Russians, she never said anything like that to him again. And she always did the inventory and lists for him.

It takes until summer, 1987, for anyone to read aloud to Steve. They were laying across Eddie’s new bed in comfortable silence.

Steve had his legs dangling off the edges as Eddie leant back against him, legs pointing up against the wall in a way he swore was actually comfortable. He had been reading a new book called “Spellfire” and he couldn’t seem to put it down.

“Eddie?”

“Hm?”

“What’s your book about?”

“This? Well I…Not sure it’s really your thing, man.”

“Maybe.” He goes back to reading. “I could see if it’s my thing?”

Eddie twists his head sideways to look up at Steve with a slightly confused face. “You wanna borrow it?”

“Was thinking you could read it.” He fiddled with the pocket of his jeans in a hopefully casual and not freaking out way. He didn’t look at Eddie as he waited, but after a few moments he responded.

“Sure. That’s fine, yeah. Want me to start over or go from here?”

“From there is good.”

And it was good, it was really really good. Steve hadn’t been able to read a book since middle school, hadn’t really tried again after that. But as he lay back and let Eddie’s voice wash over him he couldn’t help feeling that he’d been missing out.

Sure, it actually wasn’t really his thing, but the way Eddie read aloud painted such a clear picture that Steve enjoyed it anyway. The other would change his voice slightly for different characters and added emotions into his speaking. If it was a tense moment, he’d go slow and add gaps in just the right places. If it was fast paced he’d speed up and get more and more manic until the action cut off. He felt like he was reading along. Felt like he could see the pages in the book, but also the characters and the dungeon they were combining through.

So, for the first time Steve hadn’t been brushed off. He had probably found the only person he knew who could turn reading a book into a performance. One he would happily be seated for every night.

From then on, new books turned up at the trailer every week, Steve not far behind.

[carbonfiction]

Irrevocably mine

Worst!Wolverine x reader

summary: Sometimes you get to be too much for Logan; not emotionally, god no. Never like that.. Just the mere presence of you stirs something within him. somedays, it just gets too much, that visceral need to be enveloped by you. it makes him nothing short of desperate, worn eyes begging and pleading, unsatisfied and unhappy until he has you closer than close.

warnings: 18+ SMUT MDNI- Needy worst!Logan, f! Receiving oral, oral on couch?fingering, mentions of bodily fluids (cum and spit) cum eating?(Technically?? S' just suckin on fingers), not sure if this classes as free use?? teeny tiny bit of face slapping, swearing.. he's a little pussy drunk here i cant lie.. But uhh think thats it??

Masterlist words: little over 1.8k

Sometimes you get to be too much for Logan; not emotionally, god no. Never like that.. Just the mere presence of you stirs something within him. The mingled scent of your perfume and shampoo on the bedsheets, on his clothing, a sweet fragrance that seems to follow him around the house even in your absence.

Somedays he can quell the feelings down in his gut until its nothing more than a dull ache, like a muscle overstrained. other times it'll grow, festering in his bloodstream until his body thrums with need.

And Somedays.. Well. Somedays get too much, that visceral need to be enveloped by you. It boils over until he's nothing but desperate, worn eyes begging and pleading as he follows you around, unsatisfied and unhappy until he's inside you- has you closer than close.

Today had been one of those boiling over days. He'd felt it stir from the moment he'd awoken with you snuggled into him, head pushed so far into the crook of his neck it was a wonder you could breathe as you planted gentle kisses across his skin.

Logan pushed the feeling down as you showered together, trying his best to ignore your soapy nakedness and wandering hands, a casual intimacy, as you gently washed him and his hair the same way he always did for you.

He continued his restraint as he'd spent the majority of his day with Wade and his incessant jabbering mouth. But Logan could still feel the ache inside grow, his clothes sitting uncomfortable on his skin, even with half a mind on helping his begrudged friend "fix up a shelf"

*in other words, it was one of Wade's horrible excuse to get logan in his house holding power tools. Making lewd; only-things-wade-would-come-up-with level comments until logan would threaten to shove his claws so far down Wade's throat that he'd be classified as a kebab*

But what really pushed Logan over the edge was when he'd gotten home to the sight of you laid out on the couch reading a book while only wearing one of his flannel shirts with some panties. A usual outfit for you around the house really, but it never stopped driving him wild. The way the of the fabric framed your skin in the soft setting sunlight stirred away at him until his clothes really became uncomfortably constricting.

He needed you, needed to be beside you, above and below you. To finally let your scent consume him whole. He wanted to beg, to plead for you to use him for your pleasure. It was like witchcraft the way you rendered him so pent up by merely existing in his life, like an angel of pure sin had fallen from the sky right into his arms.

His steps were swift as he came to a stop in front of the sofa, jacket thrown haphazardly somewhere in the hall. Your eyes break from the book in your hands as yours meet his, your legs now the only barrier to taking a seat. Within seconds, Logans hands gently lift the soft expanses of your lower legs, a smile appearing on both your faces as he sits.

At first he makes no moves, tells you to keep reading while his hands just simply trace and massage patterns into your limbs, enjoying a comfortable silence. You don't seem to notice how his eyes roam hungry against your dressed form or the chubby bulge that sits heavy in his jeans.

His rough hands slowly walk higher until they find their way under the fabric of your- his- shirt, your thighs soft; doughy and warm in his large palms. And yet his moves don't alarm you, don't break your trance to the page your so taken by in that damn book.

He thinks you don't feel the way his broad body shifts you with him, subtly lowering himself to the carpet until he's practically between your legs. He thinks you don't see the look in his eyes, shining with hunger and need.

Truthfully you see it all, practically felt the growing heat of the fire inside him from the moment he walked in, but you know what he needs from you so you continue to read, letting him believe you don't know.

You make no move when his head dips down, scuffed cheeks moving up from your ankles as he plants gentle kisses. Your stillness burns the flames inside higher, craving acknowledgement, wanting to devour you, but he knows no matter how engrossed in something you are you'd stop him if you didn't want it to happen.

Logan takes his time until he's just above your knees, then, he shifts again, now fully kneeling on the carpet. Your legs placed over broad shoulders. his hands roaming, pushing up the fabric until it rests just above your pubic bone.

His thumb finds your clit over delicate cotton and lace, a teasing pressure that makes you suppress a shudder. Its calculated, barely there and absolutely not enough but it still manages to spark pleasure.

And pleasure given by Logan was like ecstasy.

But, to your surprise, itstays like that for a while; him doing nothing more than planting little nips and kisses to your thighs and lavishing his tongue along the steadily drenching gusset of fabric. Spit aiding the wetness until they press translucent against your slit.

There's a heat in your own gut that builds from his movements, one that has you relenting the little strength you had to ignore him. the exchange so far wordless. But the moment the book hits the couch and your fingers finally entangle in his hair, finding his signature tufts and tugging gently, things shift. The brown strands are soft between your fingers as he lets out a quiet groan, finally speaking up in an intoxicating rumble "gonna let me taste you properly princess? Please.. I need it, been waiting all day to taste you"

For a moment you consider denying him, tease him a little longer, but the embers that burn in his gaze stop you in your tracks. A softly murmured 'yeah' fills the air and as quick as it leaves your lips his own dip, finding the dampening fabric of your underwear and inhaling.

One heavy adamantium arm lies dormant over you, palm splayed on your lower stomach, doing little more than pressing down your hips whenever you even attempt to wriggle for more. The other switches between pawing against your covered tits and holding one of your hands tight.

You squirm under him, sticky and wet as you allow him to choose his pace. Letting him take what he needs so desperately from you, allowing him his time to conduct his main goal; to taste your cum soaked cunt on his tongue like a spoonful of the finest honey.

"Got the sweetest little pussy.. could die happy down here" his eyes make contact with yours as he speaks making you whine. Something in the way they darken when talking about your cunt sending a shooting jolt of pleasure through your veins.

Logan slips his hand from yours until it sits right on the side of your inner thigh. Fingers coming up the middle of the soggy material before he hooks them, pulling them aside and baring you fully unrestricted to him.

"There she is.." he mumbles, lips immediately finding your puffy clit and sucking softly. His tongue flicking against the pulsing bud and paired with the constant suction of his mouth it draws the littlest mewls from your lips; quiet gasps of obscenity.

He spits then, lust blown eyes locked to your puffy cunt, his thumb a steady pressure on your bud as he rubs the saliva in tight circles. A groan as he observes how your empty hole clenches around air, slick arousal mixed with spit drooling down to your ass. "Lookacha fuckin' drooling all over me already.. What a needy princess"

You don't get the chance to respond- to tease him for his own need- what with how his mouth latches back over your pussy. A jumble of sounds filling the room, half sloppy and wet from the way logan laps at you, the other mewls, moans and whimpers as the feeling of your orgasm builds in your gut.

"F-feels so good.... Don't stop, please don't"

If anyone knows how to eat pussy, its Logan. His ability to eat pussy- to eat your pussy- is beyond any man you'd ever been with. You suppose its all in the years, experience built in his time, but its not like you have the capacity to really ponder its origins right now; not with the gusto he's sucking and savoring you with.

"L-Lo.. Fuck- s-so close" you breathe, whiney moans bubbling from your chest as your back arches on the cushion. They grow in volume with each flick and lap of his tongue. Broad strokes to precise flits, all uniquely drawing you closer, winding up the tension higher.

But what really shatters you is Logans fingers. Long and thick, enough to offer a pleasurable stretch, as his index slips just below his working mouth- sliding inside with zero resistance. He crooks it back and forth once, twice, three times before the middle slips inside as well.

You moan louder, hips thrusting down; fucking yourself on his digits as you chase the ecstasy tingling through your fingertips. The grip on his hair tight, making logan grunt and grumble as you guide his face along your dripping pussy.

"C'mon princess. Do it, cum f'me. Need it" he murmurs and the way it wetly vibrates across your clit shatters the tension in your gut, making you cum with a broken gasp. Logans mouth and fingers never stopping their delicious rhythm until tears well in your eyes, fingers desperately tugging at his hair. Your thighs beginning to close around his ears before he pulls away, a deep satisfied grin spread across his face. His beard visibly wet, cum and spit soaked.

"Fuck lo.." you giggle breathless, tugging him up from the floor practically by his hair. "Always make me feel s'good baby" the words are breathy, pressed against his lips in a wet kiss, the taste of you on his tongue.

"I like making you feel good.. Do so well for me everytime" he smirks and you feel it pressed to your lips; a blush spreading from the combination of your taste and his praise.

You kiss him lewdly, sloppy and passionate as you carefully grab his hand from your pussy and tug it up, large fingers still slick and coated in a thin creamy layer of your release. You pull back then, with a soft sinful giggle, making full eye contact with him as you open your mouth, placing those fingers on your tongue, lips closing around them like they would his cock.

The sight makes logan groan, his eyes darkened so much they are almost black. His chubbed cock leaking desperately in his now far to tight jeans. You smile, His free hand lifting to tap roughly on your cheek as they hollow around the digits teasingly. "My pretty girl and her flithy mouth.. Think we should get you something else to suck on hm?"

Save me needy logan.. Save me.. Writers block is easing up a lil so i figured I'd write something I'd enjoy as a reader?? Lemme know whatcha think! <333

[mostly-imagines]

I Missed My Funeral

jason todd x reader

aka you learn what happened to jason

warnings: detailed discussion of how jason died, this is not so happy but i can promise you my jason angst will always have comfort

You wonder if your nightmares are accurate.

Your brain is probably just conjuring up every worst case scenario it can fathom, but maybe there’s truth to one of them. You hope not.

It’s something you haven’t been able to keep out of your mind these past few weeks, and everything seems to remind you of it. When you see his guns, when you’re using a knife to cut up dinner, when you see a car crash on the news, or even when you walk past a fucking pharmacy. The thoughts are everywhere, all the time.

Even as you lay in bed, head on his chest, your mind keeps on drifting where you wish it wouldn’t.

You know he died. He never said it out loud, but you’d seen his autopsy scar plenty of times. You’d always refrained from asking questions, he seemed nervous enough the first handful of times he was around you with his shirt off. Enough time has passed that he’s comfortable being shirtless around you, even okay when you touch his chest. The decrease in boundaries has granted you more solace in one another, but it’s also caused your mind to go wild with possibilities. 

Even now, as you lie against his bare chest, you can’t keep your cat-killing thoughts away.

“You’re being quiet,” He comments, not accusatory, just factual. 

You snap out of reverie, “Sorry, I—”

His hand soothes up and down your arm without pause, “Don’t be sorry. What’s going on?”

“I just…” you look down, thinking over your words. “What…what happened to you?” You ask quietly.

He goes still. 

You immediately regret bringing it up, sitting up from his chest to meet his eyes, “I’m sorry, I don’t need to—”

He shakes his head. The slightest response from him shuts you right up. “No, it’s…it’s okay. Probably should’ve said something by now.”

He nudges your head back down to his chest and you oblige, trying to relax your body against him again. It’s a difficult thing to talk yourself into when his isn’t any more relaxed.

“I…you know I used to be Robin?” His voice is low, hesitant.

You nod.

“Well…I made a mistake—a few mistakes. I wasn’t as careful as I should’ve been and I walked into a trap.”

You’re sure he’s placing more blame on himself than he should, though you don’t know enough to fight him on it yet. You wrap your hand around his forearm that drapes across your chest, a silent affirmation that you’re here with nothing but support and reassurance.

His breath stutters, “The, uh…the Joker set me up and…well, he killed me.”

You don’t want to ask how. You don’t want to know how. But you feel like you have to and it’s selfish and you know that but you can’t leave just it at that. 

It’s a barely audible whisper. You’re not even sure Jason could fully hear the word, but he understands the intent anyway.

His next exhale is shaky, “Yeah, um, that’s the rough part.”

Your head twitches. “That’s the rough part?” You breathe out, scared to hear what’s next.

You can’t see from this angle, but Jason’s eyes are welling over, trying desperately not to let tears fall. It takes him a moment to prepare himself to verbalize the next part. 

“He…he be—” he stops himself. “…He hit me with a crowbar. A lot.”

Oh.

You can physically feel your chest sink.

That’s worse than all the horrifying scenarios you’d built up in your head. That’s…he was beaten to death. For trying to help people. 

You don’t want to leave him in the silence for too long, so you ask the only thing you can think to. 

“How old were you?” 

He drops his head to press his mouth against your head, like he’s trying to ground himself. “Fifteen,” He murmurs into your hair.

Oh.  

You flip over so you’re chest to chest with him and hold him tight. “I’m sorry.”

He wasn’t expecting you to say that. The very very few times he’s had anything even remotely relating to this conversation, the revelation is always met by silence. Or worse.

But you’re sorry. No one’s ever said that to him before. About anything, but especially this. What does sorry even mean in this context? You didn’t do anything, are you sorry for asking? Do you…do you feel bad for him?

He swallows hard, “You’re sorry?”

“Yeah,” You say, furrowing your brow. “You’re a good person, Jay. You’re a really good person and…you didn’t deserve any of the shit that happened to you. Especially that. I hate that you’ve been through so much and I’m sorry.”

He refuses to blink but the tears are threatening to win anyways with nowhere else to go. 

He shakes his head weakly, “It was my own fault.” 

“Jason,” you say seriously. “It was not your fault. You were trying to help someone, weren’t you?”

It takes him a moment to respond to that. “I—yeah. Yes. My mom. My birth mom.” He takes a breath, “He, uh, he was blackmailing her and I tried to help her—I tried. But she gave me up to try and save herself…it didn’t matter in the end.”

While you didn’t know about the history with his birth mom, you’d been sure he’d died helping someone. That’s just who he is—whether he knows it or not.

“There was a bomb and it…” He lets that bit trail off. “I don’t remember the explosion. I think I passed out before it happened.”

He doesn’t remember the explosion. But…

He does remember the other part.

You have to drop your head into his neck so that he doesn’t see the way your eyes well up. 

“Please know you’re a good person. Please,” you plead. “You’re the best person I know.”

“But…” his breath comes out shaky, “No one…no one did anything.” 

The tears fall now, and in spite of the fact that he hasn’t let himself cry in front of anyone since he was ten, he doesn’t feel the usual burning impulse to hide. Not from you.

His voice breaks as he says, “He killed me and he didn’t…”

You sit up straight again and hold his face in your hands, looking him in the eye. “That’s not your fault. Whatever Bruce did or didn’t do, it has nothing to do with you. It’s all about him.”

You gently wipe his tears with your thumb as the weight of his head drops forward, leaving your touch the only thing holding him up.

You know he has…problems with Bruce. You know his death is a sore subject among them for more reasons than the obvious. You also know the Joker still lives and breathes today and there’s some sort of rule or agreement that Jason isn’t allowed out on patrol when he’s loose. 

There’s clear trust issues there, on both sides, but you’ve always had trouble figuring out what exactly Bruce had done to leave Jason so closed off. It pushed him away from his family and caused potentially irreparable scarring to his ability to trust other people. It actually makes a lot of sense that this is what caused the rift between them—you’d been thinking maybe Bruce was the reason Jason died or he couldn’t stop it, but this…this is a different kind of damaging. Fuck, no wonder Jason feels like he doesn’t belong in his family. 

You take a heavy breath, “You’re important. You’re important to me and whatever moral roadblocks Bruce couldn’t get over doesn’t change that—it has nothing to do with how good you are.” 

You’re definitely crying now but at this point it doesn’t matter. It’s more important for him to hear this than for you to pretend like this isn’t as horrible as it is.

He doesn’t look up at you but you can see his own tears dripping off his face. You don’t see him cry very much at all, and definitely not like this.

You sniffle, “Do you wanna switch?”

He nods against your palms and lets you out of his hold to sit up as he shifts lower on the bed and wraps his arms around your torso. You weave one of your hands in his hair and stroke softly. The other rubs soothing patterns on his back, feeling the heaviness of his breath under it.

You kiss the top of his head, “I love you. So much.”

He holds you tighter, murmuring “I love you,” into your chest.

It’s quiet for several minutes after as you both process the words said.

You’re the first to pipe up again, “How did…”

He exhales, “Ah…it’s a little complicated…”

He wants to talk about it another time. That’s fine by you.

Another silent minute passes before, “Bruce isn’t…he’s not a bad…we had a lot of problems after I came back. Both of us. Took a while to get over ‘em.” There’s a beat before, “Still getting over ‘em.” 

You nod, continuing tracing onto his back. His voice is clearer again, stronger.

“Is that why you don’t like being at the batcave?” you ask.

“No,” he murmurs. “It’s ‘cause he keeps the suit on display.”

You look down at him, frowning. “What suit?”

“The robin suit.”

You pause.

“That robin suit?”

He nods.

…what

for clarification bc i think i thought this was canon oh well

🔮🕯️the reblog witch bids you do her bidding 🕯️🔮

[pyrodolls]

hi i was wondering if you would do headcannons of the yan!fanboy if reader actually noticed him coming to all their shows and events

OBSESSED (SUPERFAN! YANDERE BOY X POPSTAR! READER)

WARNINGS: stalking, average yandere tendencies, nsfw, perverted yandere, gender neutral reader, mentions of naked reader but no genitalia addressed, dom reader, reader is compliant with the yandere and teases him a ton, lowercase intended. btw i do not condone yanderes irl.

A/N: i hope y'all know i read every single one of your asks, comments, and reblogs. i appreciate them all and they do brighten my day. i'm just saying this so y'all know that the stuff you send to other writers (not just me) matters a lot!! when you interact it gives them inspiration!!! and motivation!! me personally sometimes i see ONE kind reblog and i immediately get my ass up and start writing something just because of that one person. don't get me wrong, i still love all my lurkers that silently like a ton of my stuff, y'all are important too. anyways i'll shut up now onto the hcs. (btw this ended up being a fic instead of hcs i apologize. i went crazy over this i'm sorry anon LMAO)

"hey, you look pretty familiar. have you been to a few shows before?" you asked kindly, facing the short man in the front row of the audience.

bayani froze as the stadium's screens pointed to him. he opened his mouth in an attempt to say something, but nothing came out. his face went red and his throat went dry. did you actually notice him, or was he just dreaming?

after a few seconds of waiting for an answer, you shrugged. "sorry, maybe i mistook you for someone else. anyways..."

the yandere boy still didn't move, with his mouth agape, as you continued on with your show. the people around bayani didn't seem to care, assuming that he was just a starstruck fan. but it was more than that. much more than that.

out of the millions of fans that attend your shows and events, you recognized him among them. you noticed him. and he didn't know how to handle it. what was he supposed to say? what would you even talk about? sure, he's seen all of your interviews and heard your music and dissected your lyrics for hours every single day, but would you ever want to interact with him as much as he wanted to interact with you? he was just a lowlife. he had an average job, average amount of money, he lived in a shitty apartment, and he had no friends or major accomplishments. all of his free time outside of work was spent on you. spent on following your every move and investigating everything you've put your hands on. if you ever spoke to him, you'd probably think he was some sort of pathetic stalker.

that thought drove him mad. he couldn't even focus on the rest of your concert. he didn't hear the blaring music and screams from the crowd. he wasn't paying attention to your performance, either.

he could only stand there and imagine the punishments you'd inflict on him if you found out about his obsession. would you call your security to take him away? he'd hope not. if he's going to be kicked and pushed around, perhaps even handcuffed, he'd rather you do the job rather than some random guard. but maybe he'd accept the punishment, only because you were the one who deemed it necessary. he takes your word like gospel, so he'll take whatever punishment you want, even though he would prefer your hands on him while you do it.

his imagination ran wild as your concert finished and you walked off the stage with your dancers. the crowd of fans in the stadium dispersed around him, moving along with their day. but bayani couldn't just move on with his day knowing that you know he exists now. how is he supposed to simply move on from that? he spent a long time making sure you never noticed him. even though he attended every single one of your concerts and events, he did not want to be noticed. he knew he wouldn't be able to handle it. but it finally happened. he finally got a taste of what it's like to be seen by the love of his life. he couldn't just leave it at that. he had to do something about it.

being under your gaze, even if it was only a few seconds, made him feel like he went to heaven. it made all of the hundreds of dollars he spent on you worth it. all of the hours he spent listening to your music and watching videos of you was worth it. it was like he awoke from a slumber. a long, miserable slumber. he had to find a way to thank you. say something to you. he messed up when he simply froze after you saw him. who knows when he'll get another chance like that?

it took a few hours for the stadium to be empty, and the security started to shoo bayani away. but when he went outside, the parking lot was still full. your concert ended hours ago, but there was still loads of cars trying to leave. it would be frustrating, but bayani had to find a way out quickly.

he climbed on the back of a nearby truck and rested his legs there, waiting patiently for the vehicle to move out of the traffic. even though he knew the truck wouldn't go anywhere near your mansion, he knew how to get to your house on foot. he only needed to rest on the truck until the traffic was gone.

after a few hours on the road, he jumped out of the vehicle, and started to walk to your mansion on foot. he didn't need to look up the location online, because he already knew where it was. he visited your home many times in the past, he just never attempted to go inside before.

his veins were on fire and he started to sweat the closer he got. he was starting to have second thoughts about his idea. but there was no time to go back, because he already showed up to your house before he could change his plans.

to get inside, he had to climb up a tree, jump off of it, and land in your backyard. he used that trick often in the past, since it was not his first time going to your house. he often snuck on your property to watch or take pictures of you while you slept.

he tried opening your bedroom window, but it was locked. he had to try a different one.

he went over to a window beside your bedroom, and thankfully, it was unlocked. but the moment he opened the window, he heard the sound of water running and your familiar voice humming a song. were you in the shower?

bayani climbed inside as quietly as possible, and closed the window behind him. his suspicions were correct. he was in your bathroom, and you were taking a shower. your curtains covered up your figure, so he couldn't see you.

bayani looked to the side of the room and saw a pile of your dirty clothes on the floor. he ran up to it and immediately took a large whiff at the pile. it smelled divine to him. he couldn't get enough of it. he quickly spotted your used underwear in the pile and snatched it without thinking, then he stuffed it in his pocket. you wouldn't notice, right?

before he could take the rest of your clothes, the water suddenly stopped. bayani ran to hide, in a spot where you couldn't see him but he could see you. you opened the shower curtains and stepped out with a towel in your hands. you were completely naked, and still drenched in water. bayani felt like he died and went to heaven again that day. he couldn't believe what he was seeing. you were completely naked, right in front of his eyes. ignoring the puddle in his pants, he nervously fumbled around his pockets, trying to find his phone. there was no way he could pass up an opportunity like this. without hesitation, he snapped a photo of you.

but he didn't notice that the flash was on.

he froze, and you looked towards him. neither of you said a word, and bayani saw his future flash before his eyes. you would probably scream for security and he would get taken away to prison, never to see your face again. his life would be over.

"you're the guy i've been seeing everywhere, huh?" you whispered.

"...are you going to, uh... send me away?" bayani gulped.

you thought about it for a moment. this guy clearly cared a lot about you, because you saw him literally everywhere you went. no matter what country you visited, he was always there. even if you didn't tell a single soul where you were going, he was somehow always there. you even saw him on your property a few times, so you knew how crazy he was. but you still let him do it. and you never reported him, either. you knew exactly what he wanted. you could always hear him moaning outside your window, knowing he would have one hand down his pants and a camera on the other.

he was cute, so why not have some fun with him?

"come here." you commanded. he followed your order without thinking, immediately falling down to his knees in front of you.

you grabbed his chin, and made him look up at you. he felt hot tears well up in his eyes as you stared him down. he didn't say a word, but you knew exactly what he was thinking.

you pressed your knee against the wet stain on his pants, and he let out a pathetic whimper. he was getting off on it.

he didn't know what to do. his dreams were finally coming true. he got noticed by you, got into your house, saw you naked, and you finally touched him. he was overwhelmed, and started crying. he didn't mean to look so weak in front of you for a first impression, but he couldn't help it. besides, he'd make a fool out of himself any day for you.

"you're so pathetic.. you've been stalking me for so long, and now you break into my house to see me naked. i could call the police and have you arrested..." you whispered, as you started putting more pressure on his crotch, moving your knee up and down on it, and inching your face closer to his.

he sobbed, “please, don't! i promise, it'll never happen again. i'll stop, i'll do whatever you want, i'll-"

you cut him off by connecting your lips to his, setting his heart on fire. you pulled away after a few seconds, leaving him speechless. there's no way you just kissed him. he had to be dreaming.

and then you moved your knee away from his crotch right before he could cum, making him let out a whimper and crumble to the ground.

"thanks for letting me have some fun with you. we can do this again soon.. if you be a good boy and return my underwear." you winked, walking away and leaving bayani a hard, pathetic, leaking mess on your bathroom floor.

[jaylalolz]

,,BEST PART’’ nicholas chavez

a/n : since none of yall wanted to make a fic about this lovely man.. imma do it myself

warnings : none

summary : in an interview, actress Madelyn Kennedy reveals her celebrity crush on actor Nicholas Chavez, sparking excitement among her fans. It quickly gets attention on social media, with fans buzzing about the potential chemistry between the two.

Madelyn Kennedy adjusted her microphone and smiled brightly at the camera. The vibrant buzzed with energy as the host, Jake Harrington, settled into his chair across from her. The air was thick with anticipation, not just for Madelyn's upcoming projects, but for what might unfold during the interview.

“Welcome back to Hollywood Spotlight! Today, we have the incredibly talented Madelyn Kennedy with us,” Jake announced, his enthusiasm infectious. “Madelyn, it’s great to have you here!”

“Thanks for having me, Jake! I’m so excited to be here,” Madelyn replied, her heart racing slightly. She loved these moments, sharing her passion with fans who tuned in from all over the world.

“So, let’s dive right in! Fans are eagerly awaiting Outer Banks Season 4, which is set to premiere on October 10th. What can you tell us about it?” Jake leaned forward, his eyes sparkling with curiosity.

Madelyn took a breath, her excitement bubbling over. “I can’t wait for everyone to see it! This season is going to be the biggest yet. We’ve really upped the stakes with the storylines. There’s more adventure, more twists, and a deeper exploration of our characters. I think fans are going to be on the edge of their seats!”

“Sounds thrilling! Any hints you can drop about what to expect?” Jake pressed, a grin spreading across his face.

“Well, without giving too much away,” she said, playfully biting her lip, “let’s just say the Pogues face some serious challenges that test their friendships and loyalty. It’s a wild ride!”

“Now that sounds like something to look forward to! But let’s switch gears a bit. On a more personal note, do you have any celebrity crushes?” Jake’s tone turned lighter, inviting her to share something more intimate.

Madelyn paused for a moment, a playful smirk creeping onto her face. “Actually, I do!” she said, leaning in slightly as if sharing a secret. “I have a crush on Nicholas Chavez. He’s just incredible!”

The studio erupted with a mix of gasps and excited chatter, and Madelyn’s cheeks flushed slightly. She could feel the buzz of energy in the air as Jake’s eyebrows shot up in surprise.“Nicholas Chavez! That’s a popular choice! What is it about him that draws you in?” Jake asked, clearly enjoying the moment.

Madelyn laughed, her confidence returning. “I mean, he’s such a talented actor. I loved his work on General Hospital and recently Monsters, and he just has this amazing energy. Plus, he seems like a genuinely nice person. What’s not to like?”

liked by madelynkennedy and 356,789 others

nicholasalexanderchavez muah

view all comments !

madelynkennedy just fainted

⤷ nicholasalexanderchavez need any help?

user the crossover we didn’t knew we needed

user wait bc they would be such a hot couple…

user madelyn forgetting that she’s on her main instead of spam LMAOO

user oh i’m living for this

user i ship

user white boy of the month

user no bc that one scene in monsters when he only had a towel on… DROP IT😫

user need him in a romcom w mads

user nicholas just pulled the baddest bitch

[rex-rambles]

➤ COPYCAT (SMAU + FIC)

pairing: lando norris x influencer!reader

summary: Lando tries to get your attention the only way he knows how: by copying your Instagram.

wc: 5k

warnings: none :) photos from pinterest

➤ MASTERLIST

Liked by lando, yourbestfriend and others

yourusername Ever considered going and touching some grass?

↳ yourbestfriend when I told you you could borrow my sandals I didn't think you'd CLIMB A TREE IN THEM

              ↳yourusername 😘😘😘

↳ y/nfan23 bringing a whole new meaning to tree hugger

↳ 4_the_win Lando Norris we see you lurking

_

Liked by oscarpiastri, quadrant, and others

lando was told to go touch grass

↳ quadrant could've tagged us?? 

         ↳ lando @/quadrant

↳ mclar_win the little car 🥺 i can't

↳ ln444 father nature

           ↳  brocedes 👀

_

Was Lando being a little on the nose? Maybe. 

But he had a hypothesis, and despite the fact he hadn't been in a science class in years, he wanted to test it. You were some travel influencer, your feed filled with the kind of content that made it seem effortless, from the smiles to the outfits to your friends. It was the kind of care free that Lando couldn't help but fall for, but there was no way he would message you.

What would he say? That he thought you were pretty? That he thought you were interesting? That he was an F1 driver and obviously should get the girl in the end? There was nothing he could think to say to get this to work, so rather than approaching you, he was going to get you to approach him. 

Flawless plan, obviously, and the first step was to follow you, and then make a post with similar interests. Your latest post was out in the wild with pottery to match, so Lando found some photos from the latest Quadrant shoot out in nature, and then, because he needed it to be authentic, he dragged his friends out to some play-with-clay place and made his own little clay car, like a normal, sane man.

"Can you not think so loud?" Oscar asks up at him from his position on the floor at the airport. "It's making my brain hurt." 

"Do you think I'd do pottery?" Oscar blinks up at him, though Lando ignores him to refresh his likes and comments, thinking maybe, that first lure would work. 

"Do I think you'd do pottery?" Oscar repeats in disbelief. "Like, as a hobby?" 

"Is it believable?" The only thing, however, is he needed no one else to notice he was posting strangely. Everything had to seem like a regular, Lando Norris post to not raise suspicion. He doubted your audiences overlapped, but one could never be sure.

Oscar groans, tossing a balled-up receipt at him. "Is that about your Instagram post?" He says and Lando flips him off. Oscar returns the gesture. "I mean, sure, it's believable. People will believe anything these days." 

"But am I pottery guy?" 

"I've had enough of this." With that, Oscar rises and says something about finding a snack, and Lando watches him go in disbelief.

"Oscar? Am I a pottery guy?" The Australian doesn't turn around, and Lando doesn't care about causing a scene. "Oscar!" 

_

Liked by lando, yourbestfriend, and others

yourusername out of the woods and into the mountains 😌 ↕️

↳ yourbestfriend quit being cute and come keep me warm 

         ↳ y/nfan23 me too??

↳ user510 the prettiest!! now go get real winter boots

_

Liked by maxfewtrell, 4_the_win, and others

lando 🏔 🏔 🏔

↳ ln444 didn't you already post this trip?? 

↳ maxfewtrell ❄️ 🎯

↳ 4_the_win @/yourusername you've got a copycat

         ↳ user510 literally their last two posts match

_

You used emojis. It was a stupid detail to focus on, but Lando could totally use emojis and make it seem normal. He'd used emojis before. And, it wasn't really creepy, because you had posted a ski trip: you already actually had that in common. Wasn't anything Lando needed to fake, just posting more of his last trip, but then he had spotted the emoji, and rather than stewing over the caption, he'd posted some of a mountain. 

And then that first comment rolled in. Sure, he was a copycat, but how could anyone notice that after two posts? Fans were fantastic and terrifying at the same time, somehow knowing all his personal information far before he was comfortable with it being out there. But, hopefully, you'd feel the same. Two similar posts are just a coincidence, really. He might be a copycat, but nothing out of the blue. 

Then, terrifyingly, you follow him back, and Lando's heart stops. 

-

So. You weren't exactly well-versed in the world of motorsports, so a Formula One driver following you had taken you by surprise. Plenty of famous people followed you, much to your confusion, but this just added to it. Lando was some big racer, his photos and content (not that you had found his Youtube channel and watched the last ten videos to catch yourself up with whatever it is he did) were so relaxed and yet hyper, luxuries mixed into everyday living. You had little in common, even as you scroll through all his photos. His latest is of some ski trip, similar to your own, even if you were terrible at skiing. With his athleticism, he probably fared much better than you did.

His next is some merch shoot, intermixed with a little clay car, and you can't help but smile at it, having made enough of your own little clay creations over the years to appreciate the attention to detail, right down to the little driver's helmet. 

So you followed back, even if there was nothing you had in common, really. He was a new kind of adventure, and if something came of it, great, and if you just remained on the sidelines of each other's accounts, then so be it. 

_

Liked by lando, ln444, and others

yourusername finally got some photos developed

↳ yourbestfriend those photos are so old???

       ↳ yourusername so are my texts you haven't answered??

↳ ln444 if Lando posts film pics...

        ↳ 4_the_win 👀 👀 👀

_

Liked by yourusername, yourbestfriend, and others

lando finally got some photos developed

↳ danielricciardo if the whole racing thing doesn't work out, want to be my photographer?

↳ 4_the_win THE FILM PHOTOS!!

        ↳ user510 @/yourusername

        ↳ ln444 they're lurking too!

        ↳ y/nfan23 not everything is connected 🙄

        ↳ ln444 the captions are the exact same

_

He liked taking photos! So what if they were film? So what if you had just posted film photos? So what if he used the same caption? So what if you liked the post and made Lando stare at his phone for about an hour, willing you to message him? That was normal behaviour. He was just a photographer, really, with a massive crush on someone who did not know he existed and probably thinks he's creepy for posting all the same photos as them. He needed to get a grip, but he didn't really have time for that. 

Actually, he had all the time in the world right now, but he wanted to pretend that he didn't. To film an advertisement for them, Hilton was giving him and his friends a free week in Bora Bora, which so far had been an incredibly serene experience, giving him ample time to stew over whether or not he was wasting his time, whether he should just ask you out, or whether he was being crazy.

Currently, he leans on the balcony, taking in the soft waves below him, wondering if meditating on them would take away the chaos in his brain. He was so lucky to have experiences like this, to have the job that he did, but he was only human. He could only avoid his thoughts for so long, be grateful for so much. He wanted to enjoy all that he was given, but he was finding it hard when his phone was burning a hole into his pocket. 

It buzzes, and he wrenches his phone out to stare at a text from Max. 

Max 🎮 🤢 

get outside, now

ur going to regret it if u don't

With a sigh, Lando makes his way through their shared villa, over the clothes tossed across their little lounge floor, and he steps out onto the walkway that connects all the villas over the water, and he almost walks directly into you, and in the seconds it takes to understand that you are stood in front of him, and not hidden behind a phone secret, he thinks he might shit himself. 

"This is Lando Norris!" The Hilton representative explains from your side, and the smile you send his way does something strange to his stomach. "He's also here to film an advertisement." 

"You're here to film?" The words leave Lando's mouth before he can even introduce himself, and you offer a surprised look. 

"Just some content, nothing major." Then, making his heart flutter more than he thought it could, "We follow each other on Instagram, right? You're a driver." 

"Yeah!" He responds enthusiastically, before thinking it might seem weird. "You post travel stuff, right?" You nod, shifting the bag on your shoulder. He should probably not be distracting you, considering you just got in, and are probably jet lagged or tired or your bag is heavy, but his brain can't quite figure out how to make you interested in him while also letting you go. "Makes sense for you to work with Hilton." 

Makes sense for you to work with Hilton? He could hit himself in the face with a brick, he really could. "A free place to stay never hurts! Plus they've got some great locations." You say with a laugh, and it sounds so rich in person, rather than through his phone's speakers.

"They've got a ski resort, in the States." You like skiing. He likes skiing. He's not a copycat. "It's next on my list to stay at." 

"Oh yeah, I saw you went skiing. Where were you?" Oh god no. 

You saw his post. That's exactly what he wanted to happen. But that also means you might've seen the comments about him copying you, and you might be bringing it up to show that you know. Or, you're just being nice and making conversation, or you're actually interested in him, and despite being fast on the track, Lando can't quite handle the speed at which his brain is working. "The, uh, Swiss Alps. Fantastic time. You...also ski." 

"I do," You answer somewhat awkwardly. Of course you ski! "Not always the best at it, but I try." 

"I'm not either, but I'm be more than happy to lend you some tips if you ever need." That's more charismatic, he thinks as he flashes a smile. He's salvaging what he can in a very short amount of time. 

"I might take you up on that." You begin to walk away before turning back and rendering his heart still. "I'll see you around?" 

"Yeah, I'll see you." 

-

Lando Norris being on your first big sponsored trip was not exactly the outcome you had expected, but you weren't complaining. You may or may not had try to find him every where you went, enjoying the view of him suntanning with friends, the way his curls ran wild with both the water and humidity. 

Maybe you were forming a crush on a man who you only really knew over Instagram, but none of your friends were here to judge you for it, so you allowed it. "You here with anyone?" One of Lando's friends ask, leaning beside you at the bar of the little restaurant on the resort. Lando either wasn't interested or was too awkward or shy to approach, choosing rather to bury his face in his hands. It wasn't the kind of question you wanted to answer a random man, and luckily, he seems to pick up on it. "Let me rephrase that. If you're not here with anyone, and are interested in the company, you're more than welcome to join us for dinner." 

"That would be..." Lovely, really, but it seems weird to accept a stranger's invitation out of the blue, but maybe this was Lando's way of getting you to come over, and maybe this was your way of stepping out of your comfort zone. "Great, thanks." 

Lando's friend leads you over to their table, where everyone shifts seats to leave the only open spot in the booth beside Lando, who even in the dimly lit restaurant light, you can tell is blushing profusely. "I'm sorry about him," He whispers as you sit. "Did he do anything?" 

"Just invited me to join you for dinner, which is too kind of you. I typically solo travel, so it can get a bit lonely." All eyes at the table land on you, taking in the words you had really meant for just Lando to hear.

"You've been meaning to do some solo travelling, haven't you Lando?" His friend beside him says, playfully jabbing him in the side. Lando shoves him back with an infectious smile, and you try to ignore the implications of such a comment. 

You were just some random person he followed. Wasn't anything out of the ordinary. They were just making conversation, being nice, but you can't help but dig deeper. "Oh?" 

"I'd just love to travel anywhere," Lando fills in, his blush now spread to the tips of his ears. "But I'd prefer it with company." 

"I get that. Friends make things better, to an extent." He shifts next to you, shoulder grazing yours, and you try not to immediately offer him company whenever he's travelling next. You were the one out of your depths here, so you focus on a fun anecdote rather than offering your time up to him. "Some trips end with us wanting to kill each other." 

"I know the feeling!" Lando's friend offers over the table with a shit-eating grin. "The amount of random shit this guy pulls us along to? What was it last time, pottery?" 

Pottery? Lando pulls a face and you remember the little clay car, and you slowly begin to pick up on whatever strange atmosphere his friends have created. Travel, pottery, your interests. Not his. "You do pottery?" 

"I wanted to try, yeah. Made a little car." Then, he awkwardly fiddles with a fork, before asking, "Do you...do pottery?" 

It's a bit too on the nose. You've showed off your pottery enough on your account that it'd be obvious, unless he wasn't interested, which was certainly an option. The other was that he didn't want you to know that he knew you liked pottery, which was a strange little mindfuck that didn't quite make sense. "I love it, it's just a great artistic outlet, though it's messy and expensive." You say slowly, taking in everyone's ravenous gazes. "I have a friend with a studio that I go visit." 

"I've only ever done the cheap places." Lando says, eyes glued to the fork in hand. 

"You should go visit their studio, Lando!" Another of his friends says, and Lando's head shoots up to offer an expression you don't catch. You are most certainly caught in the middle of something, and you're not sure if you like being stuck by Lando's side yet. "Make your own trophy." 

"I bet you have plenty of trophies already." You interject with, and Lando turns to look at you with a raised brow. "Don't you?" 

There's a pause as a waiter arrives with menus, and without much thought, Lando hands you one without any prices listed on it, before he continues. "Yeah, a good couple. I don't like to brag." It's a humble thing for a famous person to admit, though you know his social media presence says otherwise.

"Tell that to the photos you post." You say as you peer over at his menu to try and take in the prices. You were working on a travelling budget, as while the hotel might've been free, the food most certainly isn't.

"Hey!" Lando almost shouts as he smacks his menu over yours, offering a soft scowl as his friends laugh around him. You try to check one of the prices for the drinks, fingers grazing over his paper, and he folds it away. "Don't worry about paying," He says quietly, needing to lean in to be heard. "It'll make up for whatever these idiots say-" 

"Lando's a good photographer, even does film and shit." The words cut through Lando's sentence, but it doesn't stop you from being one to blush now. He was paying for your dinner, which you suppose is a nice enough gesture from a millionaire. Well, you think he must be a millionaire, at least, considering the expensive clothes and the cars.

"You also use film, right?" Lando asks, still not quite authentic in his tone. It's like the whole conversation had been rehearsed, and your brain trips over the thought that Lando is trying to find things in common with you, especially considering his last posts.

"Yeah." You answer, somewhat awkwardly. "It's also expensive, but I like having tangible photos to remember trips by. Digital is great, it's my whole career, but it doesn't beat the real thing." 

Lando smiles, nodding along as you talk, and you try to ignore the faces of everyone else around you as he continues. "I feel the same way." He says, fairly earnestly in answer as he drums his fingers against the wood. "Do you have a film preference?" 

"Do you know the Olympus cameras? Like Olympus OM-4?" 

"Uh, yeah. Totally." An obvious lie, now. You'd wish he'd say something real about himself, rather than just forcing everything on you. It was nice to be cared about, to be thought about, but at this rate? You were the star of a show you hadn't signed up for.

"Well, I just got one, and it's been great for travel, it's nice and light, but has its downsides. What do you use?" You've caught him in his lie there, and he blinks at you for a moment before realizing he can't make his way out of that one. 

You watch him deflate before you, and you wonder if he puts this kind of stance on for everyone. Surely, you weren't special, you try to reason. He obviously would try to seem as interesting to as many people as possible. "Anything I can find," He states, a new, lower tone to his voice. "Lots of little disposable cameras." 

"I bet that's probably easiest with all the travelling and racing. What's that like? Being an F1 driver?" You finally let him take over the conversation, and rather than becoming lively or confident again, he shrugs.

"Nothing interesting, really." You offer him an unimpressed look, and he can't help but laugh. "Fine, it's fantastic, but I don't just want to brag about myself all night. I've just been doing racing so long I'd rather talk about other things." 

"How long?" You say, prying for more, and Lando's head tilts in confusion, like he couldn't understand why you'd want to know more. "How long have you been racing?" 

"Well, since I was a kid." He launches into some story about his childhood racing days, and something smooths out between the two of you. It's not longer chunky or strange, like forcing puzzle pieces where they don't belong. The table seems to relax, too, attention shifting from you to watching him ramble about go-karts and competitions. It's the real Lando, you think as you watch him ball up a napkin and throw it at the guy across from him, not whatever strange being he turns into when he tries to talk to you. 

You get lost in his words for awhile. You could sit here, like this, forever, just listening to him speak, and he seems to get lost in the conversation too, before catching you staring at him. He pauses, then, letting the table roar on with some old story that you don't get, and he smiles, something kind and soft and bright that makes you blush the moment you witness it. "I'm glad you joined us," He says quietly, ducking down to whisper in your ear. His face is tucked close to your neck to do so, like he was always meant to be this close to you. "And I apologize again for anything these idiots say."

"Well, thank you for having me." You whisper back, letting your head shift closer to his to say so. "I hope you know I'm going to use these stories as blackmail."

"Oh yeah?" He teases in response, letting his arms stretch above his head. Then, he lets one arm drop to rest on the booth above you, and you let yourself lean closer to his side, the move instinctual.

"For whenever I need a ride." His arm is warm pressed against your shoulders, and you remind yourself that you'd just met. You both might be interested in each other, considering the look he's giving you, but one dinner won't change anything.

"You don't need blackmail for that." He answers. "Just say the word and I'll be there."

The night passes in a blur like that, tucked close and just barely touching each other, enough distance that either of you could justify it was the drinks, or the cramped booth, nothing more. Still, it's nice to be by his side, and strangely, to not be the centre of attention. Though, every time you try to look at Lando, you find him looking at you.

-

On his final night there, Lando can't sleep. He's not sure if it's a mix of dread having to leave tomorrow, or the espresso martini he had that he didn't realize contained actual caffeine. Either way, it was about six in the morning, and he was wired. 

Careful not to wake those in the villa around him, he slipped onto the balcony as he rubbed at his face, trying to come to his senses. It had been a fantastic trip! He had seen you around a few times, talked a few times, but nothing like dinner, where you had looked like an angel sat next to him, radiating warmth as you listened to his stories and ignored his awkward start to rather embrace his slightly alcohol-fueled ranting.

You were just a stranger. You were just someone he could totally go up to and ask out, but you were this untouchable thing in his mind. He had spent so long copying you, he was struggling to think of other ways to approach you than to match what you did, which was so far kindness at a distance. 

Lando leaned against the balcony, taking in the barely rising sun on the horizon. It would be a beautiful sunrise, and as he turns to take in the rest of the villas, he finds you in the exact same position, staring out at the rising sun and wrapped in an oversized hoodie. He tries not to picture you in his merch, wrapped in the same orange of the sunrise, but it's hard not to. You'd look great in anything, he thinks, but you'd look better in his clothes. 

You turn and catch his stare, offering a smile despite the distance between you. Before he can stop himself, he gestures back toward the villa, hoping you understand the gesture of meeting on the boardwalk outside. You nod eagerly and disappear back into your villa, and Lando rushes back through his, slipping on someone's sandals before leaving. It's then, stepping out onto the wooden boardwalk and watching you walk towards him that he realizes he's still in the same clothes he tried to sleep in, which is just his swim shorts, and despite the fact you'd seen each other in bathing suits the entire week, he feels strangely exposed to the world. 

"Couldn't sleep?" You ask softly, and Lando nods with a yawn. 

"Got to be up early to fly out anyway." He swears your expression sours, maybe because you also are up early to catch a flight, but maybe, just maybe, because you don't want him to go. He should really stop these delusions, should've stopped trying to copy you, but he can't help it. "Want to make the most of one last morning?" 

"What do you have in mind?" You ask, and Lando has a good couple, but the one that would probably be the most appropriate would be to whisk you away to watch the sunrise and impress you with his boat, and the photos you could take of it. That, and he'd get some alone time, and his money worth out of the boat. 

He is well aware, however, that inviting a stranger, alone, out on a boat, isn't exactly at the top of everyone's list of things to do at 6 am. "We rented a boat for the week. Sunrise probably looks better out in the water than here, yeah?" 

"Yeah." He has to do a double take at your almost instant agreement, but then again, you were always up for an adventure. Plus, maybe he needs to give himself more credit as he leads you toward the dock: maybe he seems entirely trustworthy after only a few interactions. "You know how to drive this thing, right?" 

Well, so much for trustworthy. "I am a professional Formula One driver, I can drive a boat." He defends as he jogs up to give himself some more momentum before jumping aboard, more of a showcase of his athletic abilities than his need to mind the minuscule gap between the boat and the dock, and you laugh up at him as he extends a hand. Yours is soft in his, and he lets it linger for just a moment too long as you examine the boat. He'd lost his mind officially, he thinks as he forces space between you to unwrap the rope tethering the boat to the dock. He takes a bit too long to do it, staring back you, draped in the orange light of the sunrise. He might not have a boat in Monaco, but considering this view? 

He might just get a yacht because of you. So, yeah. Officially lost his mind. "When we crash and sink, I'm blaming you." 

"When? If we crash and sink. If." He finally gets the tether untied and settles himself behind the steering wheel, starting up the engine. It's different than a car, obviously, but that doesn't stop him from playing it up, using the palm of his hand to wind the steering wheel and navigate out, not too far from the coast. You scoff softly, jostling his shoulder as you move past to lean against the railing of the ship, and Lando doesn't waste much time driving before he cuts the engine. 

In the silence of the morning and the rising sun, he can't help but wonder if you can hear his heart pounding from here as he tries to think of something to say, something to do. If he was free too, he'd sneak up behind you and wrap his arms around you, hold you close, but that's a bit too delusional and his brain a bit too sleep-deprived to really think about it, so he decides instead to sit at your feet. "See? I'm perfectly capable." 

"I'd need to see your actual driving skills to believe that." Without much thought, he leans back to look up at you and his head knocks against your thigh, and your hand comes to play with his hair, and he thinks he might die, here and now. It's a view, he thinks, he'd be more than happy to die seeing.

"You should come to a race." He breaths out, almost desperate, trying to ignore the warmth of your thigh against his cheek. "There's plenty of fun travel destinations." 

"I'd have to find something red, then." It goes over his head for a moment as he blinks up at you, and with a sigh, you step away, leaving Lando desperate to trail after you. Instead, however, you sit down cross-legged next to him, and before he can think to do anything, you rest your head on his shoulder with a yawn. If he thought his head on you was incredible, this? This is a fantasy that forces Lando to consider if this is all a dream. "You know, for Ferrari."

"Ferrari!" He gasps as he looks down at you, and you offer a shit-eating grin up at him. "I will toss you out of this boat. We wear Papaya, and papaya only." 

"Papaya!" You echo incredulously with a laugh. "That's what you call yourself?" 

"That's what we call the colour. Not orange, papaya." You'd look good in any colour, Lando fathoms, but papaya? He'd pay good money to have you in his colour and with his number, and considering how to remain on his shoulder, he might not even have to pay for it.

"Okay, papaya." You tease before slipping out your phone, pushing back to get a picture of the sunrise, and then you turn the camera toward him. Without much thought, he stares out into the water in the hopes of you getting a more candid shot, and he's not sure what he'll do if he ends up on your Instagram. Probably rub it in everyone's faces, actually. "If I say something," You begin gently, and Lando turns to look back at you. "Will you promise not to get offended?" 

Not the kind of conversation he was anticipating, but he tries to play it off. "Not more than I already am. Ferrari, as if." 

"I like you more when you're not trying to be someone else." 

His brain short-circuits at the sentence, the words clunky in his mind as they register. You like him, first of all, but you like him more...when he's not trying to be someone else? "What?" 

"I see the posts, and the comments. You don't have to try and be like me to get me to like you." Well, shit. 

He tries to come up with some excuse, with some explanation, but all he can do is stare at you in the morning sun and think about how hard he'd tried to copy you, to do everything right, to get you here, and how miserably it's gone. You didn't interact with his posts, despite the fact you'd seen them. Dinner had been nothing if not fatal before you'd let him rant about racing, and now, he's out on a boat, and all this time, he didn't need any of it for you to like him.

"I wasn't..." He rubs a hand over his face before pushing back to sit next to you. "Listen, I just...you're cool." 

"You're cool too." Well, yeah, but his brain didn't always let him believe that. Confidence should come easy to a man in his position, but it doesn't always. The races, the fans, the eyes, it all bottles up in a way that Lando was petrified to message you, lest his mess up, lest you post it somewhere, lest it doesn't work out. 

He'd rather watch from afar and regret it than have to exist in a world where he fumbled, and everyone else saw. "But you're like, the unattainable kind of cool, so I thought if I should we had similar interests, made my posts like yours, then maybe you'd message me." 

"Wait, really?" There's a small, infectious smile curling on your lips, and Lando tries to hide his own as he looks at you.

"Tell me, honestly, if I had messaged you first, would it have worked?" You don't immediately answer, offering a little shrug, and he reaches over to pull your hood up and over your eyes. You swat away his hands as you pull the hood back, but it doesn't distract from the fact that it wouldn't have worked. The only way Lando was able to be sat here beside you was, of all reasons, Hilton's sponsorship. "Exactly." 

"It's sweet, in a weird way." You try and soothe, hand gently resting on his knee and offering a squeeze. "But I like you like this more." 

Flushing, he knows, from ear to ear, he slips his hand into yours and lets it rest in his lap. Finally, when he can't seem to handle the intimacy, he finds a joke to crack. "What, shirtless on a boat in Bora Bora?" 

"Yourself, you idiot." Your head leans back against his shoulder, talking in the sunrise, but Lando can't bring himself to look out at the view, not when the only thing worth watching is right beside him. "Don't let that go to your head." 

"I won't, promise." A soft silence settles between the two of you, and Lando knows he doesn't have a lot of time. Someone is going to wake up and realize he and the boat are gone, or someone's going to be missing their sandals, or something will go wrong with the flight, but he can't really bring himself to think of anything besides seeing you again. "So, about coming to a race? Wearing papaya, specifically?" 

"Fine, but only if I get a paddock pass." 

"Paddock-" Lando's quick to straighten up as he turns to look at you. You weren't one for Formula One, you didn't know any of that before you'd met. Unless, of course, he wasn't the only one snooping around on Instagram. "How do you know what a paddock pass is?" 

You shrug, offering a grin that Lando would have no problem kissing away, if it weren't for the fact that you'd just met. "Well, I needed to know some things about my copycat." 

"Oh, shut up!" He's never going to live that down. His friends already mocked him mercilessly for it, but now you too? "Our next race is Belgium. I'll get the paddock pass and Hilton can put you up." Then,  because he can't help himself, "Of course, if you come to dinner with me to celebrate." 

"Confident, are we?" You shoot back, and Lando mimics your shrug from earlier.

"Well, even if I lose, I've still got dinner with you, so I'd consider that a win." You groan, smacking your forehead into his shoulder, and Lando toussles your hair. "Well?" 

"Sounds like a deal." 

_

Liked by yourusername, yourbestfriend, and others

lando Bora Bora with the boys, thanks to @/hilton

↳ yourusername no photo credit?

        ↳ lando take a couple more with me and maybe

        ↳ 4_the_win WHAT

↳ ln444 😳 😳 😳 

_

Liked by lando, oscarpiastri, and others

yourusername Thank you @/hilton for checking off my bucket list trip!!

↳ hilton come back anytime!

↳ lando who's the copycat now?

          ↳ yourusername still you

          ↳ oscarpiastri still you

          ↳ lando :(

↳ mclar_win the last slide being Lando!!!

          ↳ user510 we called this

_

_

_

Liked by lando, yourbestfriend, and others

yourusername swipe to see my copycat in the act

↳ landonorris this is slander

        ↳ yourusername slander is when something is a lie, lan

        ↳ ln444 !!! 

↳  4_the_win you're welcome for setting you up

        ↳ user510 do we get paddock passes for it??

↳ yourbestfriend already being left out of the photo dump

        ↳ yourusername you know you're my number one

        ↳   landonorris hey!

        ↳   yourusername you're obviously my number four

a/n: my first f1 fic/smau!! let me know your thoughts :)

[callahanisms]

all you need is more radaway

save a horse. ride a cowboy. ;)

anyways i really loved the tv show and i love the game. and ghouls are just chef's kiss. or maybe that's because i love monsters. sad that i finished it so quickly. :(

perhaps i can put what i learned in my western class to good use lol

character: cooper howard aka. the ghoul

it's never easy surviving the wasteland. you don't know how you managed to survive for this long. perhaps because you seemed to have been blessed with incredible luck.

and building up endurance, of course.

you felt little to no side effects from the radiation of the food you were eating. which just meant you had a lot of radaway and rad-x stocked up.

to make ends meet, though, you had to start hunting. scavenging and scrapping by wasn't enough. you needed the extra caps.

thus your rivalry with another bounty hunter was born.

"well, well. aren't you far from home, sweetheart?"

you were used to comments about your outfit. a vault suit. yes, you came from one. you had been exiled after your father was revealed to be managing the experiment behind it. the child pays for the sins of the father always.

"you're not the first and you won't be the last." you pull the head off the body as clean as possible.

"now i don't know if you should do that."

"and why not?"

a bullet flies past you and burrows itself into the ground. you finally look up. a cowboy hat. the face of a ghoul. his gun pointing right at you.

but you weren't afraid.

"because he's my target." he pulls out a piece of paper. "and he's mine."

"seems unfair if i did all the work. and you just collect his head and the prize." you pull out the same piece of paper. yours is a little more worn out though. and covered in dried blood.

"that's the way of the wasteland sweetheart."

"if you believe so."

your hands were fast. two bullets lodged into his right left and when he looks up, you're gone.

of course, you learned from the best: western holotapes. you really liked them when you were growing up. claimed to want to be a lone hero.

in some ways, you were. the wasteland was just a new version of the wild west, wasn't it?

"spaghetti? like...the pasta?"

more like spaghetti western. he knew that, of course. but no one in the wasteland knew what a spaghetti western was. they were remnants of a past long gone and one only accessible by holotapes in the vaults.

"that's their name." the person says. "why? you have business with them?"

"perhaps." the ghoul was looking to return a favor.

"don't even try. they're far more formidable than you think."

"we'll see about that."

your rivalry was an exchange of bullets, more often than not. thankfully, you always stocked up on bloodbags and could make a stimpack from your heavy (but useful) travel chemistry kit. you were smart like that.

surprisingly, it became something to look forward. mostly because the ghoul preferred if he tried killing you, so he managed to get you out of a tough situation by killing the other people trying to kill you.

and you returned the favor. there was something satisfying about lodging a bullet into him again.

unfortunately, this left you two stuck on a job once. captured by raiders. you had been knocked out with a drug. and he had collapsed from...something.

"fuck." you mutter, pulling at the ropes binding you. your luck had run out for the day it seems, because your arms were tied to the ghoul's around this godforsaken pole. the metal was also uncomfortably rubbing up against your skin.

"you got a knife or anything sharp?" he looks over at you. it's rare to see him without his cowboy hat. his head was rather smooth.

you chuckle a little.

"something funny?" the ghoul asks.

"nothing. you're just...shaped like an egg."

"very funny."

"let me guess. your answer is no?"

"i don't have a knife up my sleeve, sadly. think they took it."

"shame." the ghoul shimmies something out of his own sleeve. he flicks the blade out and begins sawing at the rope. "watch your fingers."

you keep your fingers tucked in. eventually, the rope on your wrists comes undone and one arm soon after. the rest comes off and you rub your skin. "fuck these guys. always hated raiders."

"well, we both got sold out. we need to find that thing now. or else we'll be dead by sunrise." he tugs on the door of the jail cell and clicks his tongue.

"i don't have sharp objects. but i do have these." you pull out the bobby pin taped on the inside of your sleeve, alongside a mini screwdriver.

the lock wasn't very complicated, so you picked it with ease.

as you both are grabbing your equipment, you hear footsteps up above. light ones and heavier ones. and the sound of a muffled, altered, robotic voice.

the brotherhood of steel was worse than raiders, honestly.

"you go left, i go right. how does that sound?"

"i don't usually like taking orders from my rivals." he reloads his gun. "but for you? sure."

the event left the both of you soaked in the blood of your enemies. on the other hand, you guys left with plenty of loot and an idea of where your target was: dead. at the bottom of a lake.

it was a journey to get there, wherein you learned the details of each other's lives. you didn't think he was paying much attention to your sentences. after all, you came from a vault.

and yet, you saw a hint of sympathy in his eyes.

he seemed less keen on sharing details about his life, aside from his former name. cooper howard.

undeniably, as a fan of westerns, you recognized his names. from the holotapes.

"they had those?" cooper shakes his head, taking sips of water. "no way."

"yes way! it's where i learned to shoot."

"from watching my movies?"

"yes!"

"that is...a pleasant surprise." cooper leans back.

"that also makes you over 200 years old."

"that it does. something wrong with that?"

"no. the wasteland changes people." you maintain your attention to your suit, sewing a tear up. "just...you're looking for something, aren't you? everyone's always looking for something up here."

"are you looking for something?" his voice hardens and he sits up straight.

"i was. and then i found it. and i stopped." you tie the thread to seal the stitch and then tear the thread with your teeth. "i hope you find what you're looking for though."

"well, that's awfully kind of you, sweetheart."

"i have a name, you know."

"what is it?"

"(y/n)."

getting personal in the wasteland was something cooper wasn't adamant about. but the circumstances seems to call for it.

"guess we're even now."

the body of water was daunting. it was murky and dark. you pursed your lips and dumped your bag. "well. guess we have no choice."

cooper looks over at you then quickly turns around when he sees what you're doing: taking off your suit and going down to your underwear. "what are you doing?"

"i'm going to go get that head. that's how we get paid, right? easy three thousand caps. 15 hundred split evenly." you stretch.

"i think you might die."

"i'll be fine. i've done it before." Aquaperson perk.

"i can also swim, you know."

"i'll be fine cooper." you pop a rad-x pill just in case. "be back in a bit."

you dive like a swan, making minimal splash into the water. your form disappears beneath the darkness.

you're gone beneath the water for over an hour. cooper's heart was beating against his rib cage. you should be out by now. it should not be that hard. did something get you? things lurked beneath the murky waters always.

"fuck!"

he drops his equipment and begins stripping down, until he is just in his pants. he would need to dive after you. if you were dead, then so be it. it was fun while it lasted.

suddenly, you emerge. you take in the oxygen of the surface and hold the head up high. "got 'em." you swim over to the shore and walk out of the water.

there was something about how...wet you were that got him feeling hot and bothered.

"something happen down there?"

"couple of mirelurks. no big deal. which reminds me." you set the head on the ground and go back into the water. within minutes, you're pulling out the bodies of the mirelurks you had killed. "dinner."

while cutting the mirelurks open, you observe the way he walks around you. his muscles bulging a little as he cuts a mirelurk open and takes the meat. he was kind of...attractive?

"were you going to come after me?" he stops cutting hearing your question. "in the water, i mean."

"so what if i did?" cooper averts his eyes.

"that's sweet of you. i didn't know you had a soft spot for me."

"i don't."

"sure." you can tell he was lying through his teeth.

dinner was a nice, cozy meal. it was delicious. a nice surprise considering the nature of the wasteland.

cooper notices the way you're looking at him. and he looks at you the same way.

though how does this work exactly?

"do you want to..." you try to find a decent way to say this. fuck is a good term. but it felt a little vulgar in the moment.

cooper already knows what you're asking. "absolutely. if you can handle it." he smirks.

it's so cute when he smirks.

you glance over at your bag, looking at your stash of radaway. you had plenty. plus your stash of rad-x too.

"i absolutely can."

[hauntedrain]

For Years! | Max Verstappen x Reader |

Social media AU Summary: Max and reader get criticism over the status of their relationship.

✮▹ A/N: So sorry for not posting for so long. Life has been BUSY. but hopefully i can post more and write more! Love you guys <3

✰▹Warnings/Notices: Not edited. nothing really. reader mentioned to write music

Liked by Max Verstappen, Lando Norris, & 3,345,678 others

@Y/N: Lovely time lately.

view all 19,234 comments

user1: LMFAO MAX.

user2: Y/N you'll always been iconic

user3: sometimes I forget Max Verstappen is dating THE Y/N L/N.

↪ user4: SO TRUE. It completely passes my mind that they've been together before he even got to F1.

↪ user5: THEY'VE BEEN TOGETHER FOR 9 YEARS?

↪ user6: YEA ITS WILD.

↪ user7: wait but they haven't gotten married or anything?

↪ user8: Yea no. They also avoid the questions around it. Kind of weird to me.

↪ user9: But hasn't Y/N written songs about marriage and getting married? Why haven't they?

↪ user10: Maybe they just don't want to. Or max doesn't.

MaxVerstappen: Why did you choose that photo of me.

↪ Y/N: You want me to post the photo from yesterday?

↪ MaxVerstappen: NO.

↪ user11: LMFAO. PARENTS.

Liked by Y/N, Redbull, & 2,345,567 others

@MaxVerstappen: Great race and great win! Getting ready for next week. And thank you to @Y/N for making me but those glasses, best purchase.

View all 14,567 comments

Y/N: I told you they were a good investment

↪ MaxVerstappen: I don't know if you would call it an investment.

↪ Y/N: I'll post that picture.

↪MaxVerstappen: It was a great investment! better than a house!

↪ user12: better than a ring?

↪ user13: STOP. but no fr, wheres the ring Max?

user14: Okay nice win but when yall getting married?

user15: everyone needs to mind their business, maybe they're just not ready to get married and that okay.

↪ user16: But its been 9 YEARS. NINE YEARS. Its a red flag.

liked by 18,234 others

@F1GOSSIP: Max Verstappen and Y/N L/N have been criticized over the status of their relationship. The couple has been together for over 9 years however many fans have realized that there's been no movement in the relationship, family and marriage vise. Thought?

view all 5,567 comments

user17: I mean its their life but 9 years?

user18: Idk guys don't hate me but sometimes max doesn't seem interested in Y/N. Like all of the Monaco GP? seem happy around her.

↪ user19: Bro look at the pictures in the post. Does he seem unhappy in them? No he seems very happy.

↪ user20: Okay but lets be honest. Both only seem that happy in front of a camera.

User21: I mean for some of their relationship they were fairly young. Maybe they just wanna enjoy it little by little.

↪ user22: I think in 9 years you can enjoy a lot.

user23: I wouldn't marry her either. Max knows what's best which is why he hasn't done it.

Y/N has posted to their story!

liked by 6,678,567 others

@MaxVerstappen: happy 3 year anniversary @Y/N. love you much and cant wait for years to come. Also, people said I hated her? How could I?

view all 35,567,878 comments

Y/N: Guys my husband is kinda cool.

↪ MaxVerstappen: Kinda?

↪ Y/N: yea cuz im cooler than you.

↪ MaxVerstappen: Okay love.

user24: WTF 3 YEARS?

user25: max said hold my 3x WDC titles while I make everyone shut up about my relationship.

↪ Y/N: He just wins everything doesn't he?

↪ CharlesLeclerc: Yea its kinda annoying. you should distract him Y/N

↪ MaxVerstappen: Dont tell my wife to distract me, I'll lose.

↪ CharlesLeclerc: thats the point.

↪ LandoNorris: I just wanna win.

↪ user26: LMFAO WHAT IS HAPPENING

↪ Y/N: Im collecting them all

User27: And people said max didnt wanna marry her.

user28: Bro just keeps winning doesnt he. Y/N GIVE ME A CHANCE.

user29: if you look closely you can see me getting run over by an F1 car.

⭒❃.✮:▹A/N: I hope you guys like it! I need to post more but ive gotten so busy and haven't had the time. But I'll try to post more often. Love you guys! hope you enjoyed.