#can't you see how much i show you that i love you???? | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

tsunodaradio · 18 hours ago

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everyone wants him (that was my crime) ⛐ 𝐋𝐍𝟒

THIS IS: FORMULA ONE 📀 if you're gonna be drunk, might as well be drunk in love.

♫ starring: lando norris x reader. ♫ social media au. ♫ includes: romance, fluff, angst -ish. profanity, hate towards lando/reader, suggestive jokes. @opastries81 requested slut! by taylor swift. <- (another warning: a lot of the lyrics will be scattered throughout this one! lol.) ♫ commentary box: maira, the amount of good requests you've thrown my way.. i am indebted. this one grabbed me by the neck and wouldn't let me go, sooo 🤷 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Liked by user1, user2, and others paddocktea 🕵️ Is lando seeing someone new?! Fans allegedly saw him with a girl on his back near Plague de Pont de Fer and this is the pic they snapped. Side by side with a pic of Lando from the same day. That black hoodie and white shirt... 👀

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user1 oh paddocktea this is a reach even for u user2 That fuckass first pic... is lando in the room with us rn??? user3 lando norizz 2025 sry user4 His Ass CANNOT Carry Anyone Like That 🤣🤣🤣 user5 Isn't Lando's dating history like 80% models anyway lmao. ⤷ user6 CLOCK HIMM. Pretty sure he's learned his lesson

Liked by carlossainz55, quadrant, and others lando 📷

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user1 The film photo aesthetic!! Okayyy king user2 can u pls revive lando.jpg pls pls pls 🥺 ⤷ user3 AND land0.mov WHILE YOU'RE AT IT. user4 Is this a tease for smth new??? Merch??? PHOTOBOOK??? user5 me zooming into the mirror selfies 😜 b/c i'm #insane user6 Whoever took that 2nd slide: Thank you so much for my new lockscreen!

Liked by yourbestfriend, notl4nd0, and others yourusername flamingo pink, sunrise boulevard

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yourbestfriend that last slide... GIRLLL is there something you're not telling me ⤷ yourusername :) notl4nd0 simply lovely x ❤️ Liked by creator

Liked by user1, user2, and others ln4updates lando in NYC today! 📷 by landodotcom & ln4wdc

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user1 he looks sooo good 🤤 user2 THE FRIENDSHIP BRACELET user3 why are ppl on tiktok saying he was on a date ⤷ user4 People on TikTok js be saying shit tbh. 🤷‍♂️ ⤷ user5 i think there would also be pics if he was w/some1 user6 Where can I cop that cap ? user7 congrats to whoever's bouncing on it!

Liked by yourbestfriend, user1, and others yourusername wrong place / right time

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yourbestfriend "it's pretty casual" ⤷ yourusername 🤫 user1 THE WAY THIS SHOWED UP ON MY EXPLORE PAGE AND I-- IS THAT LANDO FUCKING NORRIS ⤷ user2 I THINK SO TOO??? LIKEEE CHECK HIS NEWEST IG STORY

lando posted a story.

Liked by user1, user2, and others yourusername lovelorn and nobody knows

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user1 Hey are you dating Lando?? user2 okay non-oomf u slayed with olivia rodrigo 💜💜💜 ⤷ user3 Having a fellow livie date LN? This is how we take over the world!!!!!!!! user4 is that last pic NOT lando omg ⤷ user5 I thought so too!! I would know that bracelet from anywhere. ⤷ user6 do we have any official confirmation yet or user7 waht's lando's favorite olivia song pls respond it's for science ⤷ user8 bet it's all-american bitch. 🇺🇸 user9 Gliter hand?? Lando's too?? Need someone to be all detective up in this sh*t pls

Liked by maxfewtrell, danielricciardo, and others lando being this young is art smth smth

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user1 PEAK summer break content! hope you're having fun lando!! xoxo user2 If I can't have Lando, can I just have one of his friends? Lol. user3 can we pls talk about the concert venue with the olivia rodrigo confetti HELLo. ⤷ user4 oh so this is confirmation yourusername went with him ??? INSANE. ⤷ user5 This breadcrumb trail is crazy 😳 ⤷ user6 Try Not To Speculate About Driver's Private Lives: [FAILED] user7 king and queen of soft launching yourusername

Liked by lando, lando.jpg, and others yourusername taking my time in the tangerine

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user1 Oh! Alright! user2 AAAND there it is folks user3 Does she even know what a DRS is??? lilymhe Sooo loved meeting you x ⤷ yourusername thank you for being so nice ❤️ ⤷ user4 yourusername now a WAG #confirmed ⤷ user5 lily being like "hey me and my boyfriend saw you across the room and liked your vibe" ⤷ user6 lily >>> yourusername user7 okay but... lando liking this post with his main account, .jpg, .mov, quadrant, lnracingkart, AND lnfour? ⤷ user8 boy is down BAD. 😮‍💨 ⤷ user9 It's sooooo over. Everyone pack up. ⤷ user10 Went to the alex albon school of yearning iktr user11 so now that yourusername you've gone to a race, you're done with lando right?? kidding kidding user12 Do you have any more pics of/with him :( Please share with the class

Liked by mclaren, yourusername, and others f1 LANDO NORRIS WINS HIS FIRST GRAND PRIX 🏆

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user1 LANDO NORRIS OP user2 let's fucking GOOOOO 🐐 mclaren One of our own user3 No more LandoNoWins!!! user4 mans had a girl in the stands and was MOTIVATED ❤️ Liked by lando ⤷ user5 WHAT DO YOU MEAN LIKED BY LANDO ⤷ user6 We need yourusername at EVERY race now actually,, user7 Absolutely ELECTRIC, Lando!!! ⚡️⚡️⚡️

Liked by oscarpiastri, yourusername, and others lando they might as well be looking at us. thanks everyone. better words when i'm not buzzin 🧡

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user1 brb still crying user2 WHY DO I FEEL LIKE A PROUD MOM oscarpiastri love wins ⤷ user3 I Know What You Are. ⤷ user4 oscar seal of approval?! ⤷ user5 broo idk why but she gives off gold-digger vibes or smth user6 bet the trophy isn't the only thing lando will be kissing tonight ❤️ Liked by creator ⤷ user7 LANDO LIKED THIS. WHAT. ⤷ user8 I'm going to be sickkk. he's a SIMP 🤢 ⤷ user9 get a room wtf ⤷ user10 can we not make this win about his relationship??? he worked his ass off and you're all just making dumb jokes user11 No pic of/with yourusername tho.. Guess it's not that serious lol ⤷ user13 #real. bet she's gone by the next race ⤷ user12 he's litchrally liking comments left n right about her but go off ig

Liked by lando, maxfewtrell, and others yourusername love sick all over my bed

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user1 That hint of lando in the very end ahhh user2 flowers from lando??? Or user3 No offense but this soo does not look like Lando's type of girl ⤷ user4 he must b bored out of his mind out there kekekeke user5 girl. if i was dating lando norris i'd b hard launching him every two working days. pls give us more. ⤷ user6 GIVE IT TO ME RACHEL 🙏🙏🙏 ⤷ user7 No thnx I might throw up user8 The domestication of Lando Norris. We Loveee to see it

Liked by georgerussell63, yourusername, and others lando hand prints in wet cement

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user1 MY SHAYLA. user2 blocking out his gf's face in the bereal bec even HE knows she's ugly like that's insane work ⤷ user3 How could you say something so controversial... but so true... user4 the pottery class and bouquet snaps matching up <3 cuties! user5 You're gettin soft mate!!! Stop dating and focus on driving. user6 lando i promise i can treat you wayyy better give me 5 mins in a room and a hair tie user7 Oh they're still a thing? Lmaoooo. 🫣 ⤷ user8 i give it four more months ⤷ user9 That's generous. *Two months

Liked by notl4nd0, user1, and others formu1agossip lando in yourusername's recent Stories!

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user1 Can we study why she keeps soft launching him like this? Like bae we know who that is. You're not slick. user2 Alexa, play break up with ur girlfriend i'm bored 🎵 user3 i don't get the negativity in this comment section :(( he's allowed to have a life! user4 yourusername can you fight user5 she's such a slut sorry 🫠 ⤷ lando jesus fuck do you have nothing better to do with your life ? ⤷ user6 O H MYGOD ⤷ user7 SHOTS FIRED!!!!!!!!! ⤷ user8 mclaren this y'all's driver? ⤷ user9 serves you fucking right assholes ⤷ user10 Wowww. Lando is NOT happy.

Liked by lando, notl4nd0, and others yourusername in a world of boys, he's a gentleman

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user1 ANY TONGUE THAT RISES AGAINST lando AND yourusername SHALL FALL user2 His smile :( Ohhh he loves her so much user3 i'm a convert (that first photo where he looks at her.. ok this shit is real real) 💕 user4 still not convinced user5 The hard launch to end all hard launches!!!!! user6 may a love like this find me pls. preferably with yuki tsunoda user7 Betting pool on the breakup, anybody? lando looks like a loverboy ⤷ yourusername is a loverboy ⤷ user8 DECORUMMMM?!?1?!?! ⤷ user9 Can I be adopted pls pls pls ⤷ user10 my new fav wag !

Liked by mclaren, yourusername, and others lando worth it 4 once yourusername

yourusername pretty casual ⤷ lando not today, not ever

Comments on this post have been limited. ⛐

#lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris imagine #lando norris smau #lando norris fluff #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 smau #f1 fluff #formula one x reader #formula one imagine #formula one smau #formula one fluff #⛐ ln4 #⛐ kae prix #⛐ event: this is f1 #oh do NAWT ask me hm time it took me to do this...

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illbegottenfaith · 2 days ago

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the one where you scold theo for dozing off

a/n - was inspired by this post + a tiktok I saw where this girl was talking about how her boyfriend games till like 3 am with his friends but nods off at like 9 pm with her and all the comments were like girl he's so relaxed w you cuz of how much he loves you and it was all just soooo cute 😭😭 anyways enjoyyy :))

tropes/warnings - flufffff, eepy theo, established relationship, cuddling idk

word count - 830

taglist - @allie-sturns @hzdhrtss @friedfreyfries @bushnellswife @rose-of-the-grave @thaliashifts @pariahsparadise @babene-e @fratbrochrisgf @iamheretoread1234

"Teddy."

"Teddy?"

"Theodore."

One hard shove to his sternum later, Theo's eyes flew open.

"'M up - "

You gave him the stink eye as he coughed sporadically, choking on his saliva. You sniffed disapprovingly.

"Honestly, Teddy. I didn't bring you here to nap."

Theo glanced around incredulously. The two of you were sitting on a picnic blanket on the side of a grassy knoll on the other side of the Great Lake. After indulging in some chocolate-covered berries, a sleepy, hazy kind of quiet had descended on the hill in that late afternoon sun. In short, it was a perfectly comfortable setting for napping.

He winced, rubbing at his sternum. "Oh, c'mon. You feed me these - these fuckass strawberries - "

"Don't talk about my strawberries that way!"

" - then you lie me down and expect me to stay awake? It's warm out, cara. I sleep warm. You know I sleep warm."

Scoffing, you lie down next to him, muttering darkly under your breath. Still, you can't resist running your fingers through his hair, gently raking at his scalp. It's an addicting thing, watching the tense parts of his face relax, watching that crease between his eyebrows disappear. Some of your earlier anger dissipates.

“You are so easy,” you tease, fingers still carding through his hair.

“Only for you, amor,” he murmurs, voice low and knowing.

Your face burns. “Merlin, shut up.”

Chuckling, he stretched his arms over his head before letting them fall lazily back down, one draping across your back. He tugged you against him, his warmth seeping into you.

"How is it that you can stay up till 3 am with your friends, but ten minutes with me and you're out like a light?" you mused. You pull your fingers away from his scalp.

"Am I that boring, Theo? Do I put you to sleep?"

Theo huffed a quiet laugh, his fingers ghosting over your shoulder before settling there, warm and grounding. His other hand found the curve of your waist, pulling you just a fraction closer.

"Obviously," he murmured, voice still thick with drowsiness. "You drone on and on - "

A sharp pinch to his ribs cut him off, making him suck in a breath through his teeth. "Fuck - alright, alright." His grip tightened, holding you in place before you could enact further vengeance. "You don't put me to sleep."

Theo's half-lidded eyes fluttered shut again, his breathing evening out. His fingers resumed their slow tracing along your arm, dragging lazy patterns that sent shivers up your spine. As your own eyelids grew heavier, your eyes drifted over the lake’s glimmering surface.

"Actually," you murmured after a beat, pressing your cheek against his chest, "this is quite nice."

Theo made a show of pretending to shove you off.

"I see how it is," he grumbled as you laughed. "When you want to doze, it's perfectly fine, but Merlin forbid I"—he poorly stifled a yawn, blinking blearily—"get a little shut-eye."

You scoffed. "This is different. Even logistically speaking, how am I supposed to drag you back to the castle? You sleep through anything, Nott."

Theo grunted. "And you sleep through absolutely nothing."

You smiled lazily against his chest, knowing exactly what he meant. Many a night, he'd creep into your dorm, taking great pains to quietly shuck off his jacket and shoes, only for you to stir the second the mattress dipped. He’d scowl at you in the dim moonlight as you blinked at him sleepily, voice hushed but teasing as he slipped under the covers beside you. Every single time, he’d scold you for staying up, telling you in that firm, low voice of his to go to sleep, as if he hadn't been the one showing up at your bedside to begin with.

"Maybe you should try staying up with me for once," you said idly.

Theo snorted. "You'd make me watch those god-awful Muggle films."

"You love my god-awful Muggle films."

He hummed, neither confirming nor denying. You tilted your head to look at him, absentmindedly running your fingers through his hair again.

"I just wish you'd save some of that energy with the boys for me."

Theo sighed, long and slow.

"Can’t help it," he mumbled into your hair, fingers ghosting over your arm. "You’re so...warm. And soft. And you smell - " he dropped his head to the hollow of your neck as he inhaled, holding you close even as you squirmed in his ticklish hold, "- like that. Like...home. Like love."

You could sense him dropping off again in the way his words slurred and his voice quieted. He was probably too drowsy to even know what he was saying. For a moment, all was silent except for the rustling that came with the occasional gentle breeze. You felt the steady rise and fall of his chest, the warmth of him pressing into your side.

Maybe you should shove him awake again. But then again…

You nestled closer to him, your own eyes drooping shut.

Maybe not.

#this might be a little niche to say but i dont want to hear shit about how strawberries arent berries!!! its in the fucking name!!!!!!!#anyways hehe #theo nott #theo nott x reader #theodore nott #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott x y/n #theodore nott x you #theodore nott fluff

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no1blacksapphirefan · 19 hours ago

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CRK Self-Aware AU but it's just them being so confused why you constantly tap them in the their cookie profile.

(Can be seen as romantic or platonic, do as you will) ((Reader is unaware that they are aware))

Now I don't know if this is a common thing among CRK players but I love tapping the hell out of my favourite cookies lovingly <33 Imagine the cookies like feeling it and being so confused why, I don't think it'll hurt (At least I hope not) and watching you giggle as they like struggle to say their programmed lines as intended.

Me thinks Burning Spice would kinda like it/enjoy it. I cannot explain why. It's almost like a punch but of course not physically, like an affectionate one. If he ever finds a way out, he'll return the favour and poke you many times to your cheek.

Some cookies like Shadow Milk may take it personally first, he's trying to tell you things!! Who cares if you've heard them all already, what if he decides to say a new one to completely shock you? He eventually grows accustomed to it and learns it's your way to show how much you love him, so he'll let you get away with it for now.

Maybe Black Forest cookie quickly sees it as a loving gesture and gets all giddy knowing that she's one of your favourites out of the array of cookies you have. She's so happy. She may brag to others about it.

Black Sapphire I feel quickly understands it, it makes him more interested in you. His microphone is fixated at you constantly as you do this loving gesture. He finds it almost endearing, even though you believe that they're still some code, unaware of what you're doing and only following programming. The fact you still try to show affection like this is quite entertaining.

Pure Vanilla probably has knows what you're doing as soon as you do it, or finds out quickly as well. He's honoured to be this loved by you he can't help but chuckle as you leave to do other stuff. It's almost like a comfort to him, perhaps you did it when you finished his beast-yeast episode in means to comfort him, he appreciates it a lot.

================

These were just random thoughts based on what I do a lot haha. Feel free to leave your own thoughts in my inbox <33

-#1 Black Sapphire Fan/Listener Out!!

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bunni-v1 · 2 days ago

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HIHI! Before I make my request, I just wanna say that I absolutely ADORE the way you write the crk characters! The posts you have about Shadow Milk are scarily accurate. On another note, I really enjoyed the Burning Spice x reader hcs, and for my request, could you maybe do some Burning Spice NSFW hcs?🤧🙏 I haven't seen many people do requests for him, so I figured I'd step up and ask!

Burning Spice NSFW Headcannons

🍓Girl, I gotta clear out my askbox AGAIN. I clean it out and then y'all come back with a vengeance. Anyway, you were the first person to rq this, so congrats, you get the special answered ask! Yay! Anyway, Burning Spice is SUCH a challenge for me because we have virtually no content of the guy. This is 90% guesswork on my behalf, so please give me grace lol. Sorry if these are short and kinda bad, my motivation is low rn lol

Tw: NSFW; Rough Sex; Marking (like, bruising and biting); blood mention; predator/prey dynamic mentioned

Info: Burning Spice Cookie x Reader; NSFW

-Burning Spice Cookie is surprisingly lax about sex. It's not something that interests him too much, because once you've done it so many ways, you cannot do much more spicing it up.

-Pre-corruption he had sex semi-frequently with various different partners over a long period of time, but the closer he got to corruption the more... boring sex became. There wasn't much appeal other than dominating his partner, and even then, once he did that it was kind of nothing.

-He's experienced and he's very good at what he does, but he doesn't really care to initiate in most cases. Despite what most might think of him, he values the time he spends with you. Sex seems like it would be a waste of it, so he just doesn't bother with it.

-Unless, of course, you seem to be into the idea. Then his tune changes. Oh, his little warrior wants to try something different? Alright, sure, but he won't hold back on you. (He does, of course, because he can't have you crumbling on him.)

-Your first time with him is... interesting. He is, in all meanings of the word, considerate of you and your well-being the whole time. But, he's also doing everything in his power to see what makes you tick. How far can he push you this time before you need to tap out, how many orgasms can he get, how hard can he get your legs shaking?

-He likes to push you. A big part of his style of sexual intercourse is dominating. In most cases, he likes to go as hard as he can as fast as he can, but he has an inhuman tolerance when it comes to you. So he takes his time figuring out how to dominate you.

-He likes things that puzzle him, he likes having his mind challenged, he likes to have something for his mind to do. With sex, this is especially important. He gets off on the thrill of figuring you out, he wants to see the way you react to everything.

-He's big on predator/prey dynamics, like, really big on them. He likes to set you loose and give you a fixed amount of time to throw him off your trail. Run, hide, set traps, and he'll come after you like a wild animal starved for weeks. You always think you've got him, but he waits until you're comfortable to strike, and he takes you wherever he finds you - so hiding in public isn't a smart idea... or it is... depends on what you're into.

-Speaking of, he is a big proponent of public sex. Like I said in his initial headcannons, he loves to show you off. You both have a lot of pride in being the other's partner, so why not show it off in every way possible?

-Usually, this manifests as him having you bounce on him on his throne while loyal followers come and praise him. They'll be showering him with flowery words and begging for his acknowledgment, but his eyes are only on you. He soaks in your nervous expression, loving the way you shy away from the other cookie's eyes.

-It also can be more ritualistic. What I mean is that, he very well enjoys having people watch, so why not make a festival out of it. The two of you will be on a huge platform, surrounded by rich silk sheets and the eyes of his most loyal followers. They cheer the two of you on, shouting praises and exclamations of joy as you reach your climax.

-Do not think that this means he's in any way okay with sharing. He is not, it's a one-way ticket to get crumbled. If any cookie is foolish enough to even propose the idea they don't live to tell the tale. Look, enjoy, but don't touch.

-A lot of sex with him actually starts as sparring. You are very weak compared to him, so he rarely goes out of his way to spar with you, but he does. When he does, it always ends with you bent over and babbling his name like a mantra.

-He can't help it, the way you fight him with such a cute determined little expression really makes the cogs in his head turn. Flushed face, chest heaving, oh you look heavenly. Wouldn't you look nicer with him splitting you on his dick? Yes, he seems to think so.

-He likes it when you fight back against him, make him work for his own high. It's just what he wants. Kick and bite and punch and scratch as much as you can, he wants to see the marks you leave on him. He wears them with pride, just like you should his.

-And he does mark you up, very well. Your body is littered with bites from him, and you have several new bruises where he restrains you. The most prominent ones are on your thighs, the perfect outline of his fingers practically burned into your dough.

-You always bleed when he bites, his teeth are sharp, and he never cleans it up. He likes seeing the crimson jam dribble down your body. It's a beautiful sight, the very essence of you leaking out for him to see. When he's feeling particularly romantic, he'll smear it across his lips like makeup, and kiss along your body leaving a trail of blood-soaked kisses in his wake.

-Something else to mention, he very much likes to see the two of you connected. He enjoys watching himself sink into you, and he does it in silence. To him, it's beautiful to see your bodies meld together. Even more so, he likes to see evidence of himself in you.

-So, he always cums inside and he never uses protection. He likes to see his cum leak out of your abused little hole, he'll scoop it out of you after the fact with a scary reverence in his eyes. It's hard to tell what he's thinking, but he cleans you up well, so it's best to let it be.

-He also likes to feel himself while he's inside you. He'll press on your stomach so he can enjoy the way he fits more directly. If you squirm, it just makes it all the better for him. The pleasure is only heightened by your wiggling, so keep it up.

-Okay, we have to acknowledge his size. It's impossible not to do so with how big he is in the game - he is significantly larger than every cookie we've seen so far.

-His dick is large, like very large. It's more... normal... than Shadow Milk Cookie's, but it's not regular by any means. It's big, nearly eight inches long, and about five inches thick. It's the same color as his dough all the way up to the tip, which is a deep reddish-brown color.

-The tip is flat and wide, and it's the same thickness along the entire shaft. The first push-in is always the hardest, but as soon as you adjust, it's easy to take the whole thing... well... what you can fit at least.

-Oh, one last thing, his dick is ribbed. Several bumps line the shaft in a nice pattern, and it rubs you inside like a dream. He knows the effect it has on you too, and he uses it to get you to melt against him like butter.

-He's rough, and he goes rather hard and fast, but he can slow it down sometimes. It's rare, and it isn't something he thinks to do in most cases, but occasionally... just sometimes, you'll get a sweeter side to him.

-That doesn't mean it isn't intense, though. It is intense, even more so than his other style of sex. But it's for different reasons this time.

-Instead of fucking he is making love to you, which seems to be out of character, but I promise you it's not. He loves to show you his devotion to you, and a great way of doing that is through sex.

-If you are, for any reason, feeling insecure he uses sex as a means of expressing just how much you mean to him. Words can only do so much, gifts and mortal possessions are meaningless in the grand scheme of things, but this? The physical connection between the two of you? It's something more, something deeper than anything else he could give you.

-He holds you close, usually facing him on his lap, and slowly ravishes you. There is to fighting or bruising or biting like this, just raw passion that he has for you. Not an inch of your skin is without his burning touch, the heat between the two of you fogging your mind until you can no longer think.

-The pace he sets is slow and deep, each thrust and movement a deliberate show of his admiration for you. It's only then that you'll hear him praise you, words of affirmation spilling from his lips like warm honey, encouraging you to keep going for him.

-What is the most intense, what gets you shaking, is the way he looks at you. His eyes are unblinking and affixed to your face with nothing but sheer devotion and love. He doesn't let you shy away either, you need to look at him, to see how much he adores you. Only once you are jelly against him will he be satisfied that he has done his part.

#x reader #crk #cookie run kingdom #crk x reader #cookie run kingdom x reader #burning spice cookie #burning spice cookie x reader #burning spice x reader

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deepspacenova · 1 day ago

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something that is both heartwarming and heartbreaking about Caleb is the way he consistently continues to fight his fate, despite every sign he encounters pointing toward its inevitability:

it's in the way he defies the Toring Chip, and the meaning of 7%

When Caleb falls apart on the bench with MC and the chip resets in Farspace Bloomfall, 100% of his mind is supposed to reset.... and yet only 93% of the chip is integrated and able to do so.

We know Caleb is aware of this too, when he tells MC to tell him about her problems “while I can still respond.” Because he knows he'll inevitably lose some information once it happens, like the 'patrol data' Enforcer mentions.

This means it’s happened before, Caleb's mind had been reset before. Which means, he knows if the chip’s integrity ever gets to 100% and resets, anything he feels toward MC will also reset. And so..

“…he’s purposefully ‘sealed’ his brain rather than damaging it.”

So Caleb gathered up every emotion, every memory, and every impression of MC in his mind, wrapped it all together into one small piece, and has since, against all odds, continuously used his Evol to put a barrier around it, to protect it. To keep the chip from finding it and wiping it. And what is that piece? That 7%?

7% is MC. 7% is his memories of MC. 7% is his love for MC.

it's in the way he's turned himself from "perfect weapon to destroy each other" to "perfect weapon to destroy others"

I could be wrong (please correct me), but I'm pretty sure it's murky right now whether Caleb (subject 002?) knew MC during any of her 'incarnations' in the lab and/or their purposes to be a killswitch for each other. But if he does know or remember any of it, the protection of that 7% from the Toring Chip becomes even more vital and strategic as all hell.

Because that would mean Caleb orchestrated a situation where he's become the lab subject, a decoy in MC's place as they try and correct the chip within him.

And that would mean that Caleb planned for them to "sacrifice a great deal to obtain him," — apparently, so much that they're unwilling/unable to simply dispose of him when he's resisting the very thing that would seal his fate as "the key", as MC's killswitch.

and it's in the literal beat of his heart

when you lay your hand over caleb's heart to hear his heartbeat, no matter how fast that beat starts out, if you hold your hand there long enough, his heartbeat inevitably tapers into a calm 50-60.

Despite all he's doing to preserve that 7%, he can't fight the nature of the other 93%. The nature of the chip and it's purpose to keep him in an emotional stasis.

His excitement to see you, his happiness to have you there, the fluttering of his heart? Those are abnormalities to the chip, those aren't in line with what that stasis is supposed to be. And so... no matter how quickly his heart beats for you initially, it inevitably gets suppressed.

We see how it affects other members of the Fleet too. How all of them have accepted the inevitability of the chip. Tuum Officer No. 6025 and Liam in particular shows us exactly what it looks like to give in.

And yet, every time you come back, Caleb's still excited, Caleb still fights it. He's fighting it with only 7% of his memory, he's fighting it with every quickened beat of his heart.

If the chip is a tether, if his fate is a tether, Caleb will never stop sawing at the strings, and i am not okay about it.

blame for any and all crash outs can be directed to @solifloris and @starmocha, who have managed to make my "down bad" for caleb turn into "sick to my stomach with eternal devotion"

#on a scale of normal to psychotic i am PADDED CELL levels of unhinged over caleb #ive been avoiding his heartbeat for DAYS because seeing that happen makes my chest ache #and that latest quote about the kite tethers has me in a pile on the floor #caleb x mc #lads caleb #lnds caleb #l&ds caleb #lads #lnds #lads theories #lads analysis #love and deepspace #love and deepspace caleb #nova yapping

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whocaresstillthelouvre · 2 days ago

Text

See The Road You're On

Elks Chapter 1

Pairing: Jackson Joel Miller x Female Reader Chapter Rating: T. (Nothing explicit for the first few chapters.) Chapter Summary: The man you've had a crush on since he showed up to Jackson just so happens to be your favorite student's caretaker... and he just saw you do a brutal face plant in front of his home. Chapter Warnings: FIX IT FIC ALERT, pov switching (joel is in bold), soft jackson joel, pining, yearning, outbreak and quarantine zone memories, ellie has a smart mouth, anxious reader, mentions of blood and an injury from falling, everyone lives happily ever after, joel and ellie don’t leave jackson (no hospital, no revenge, no bad things happen), early 2000’s indie rock, reader has a backstory Words: 6,565

A/N: Well folks, I did it... another Elks rewrite, as mentioned in this lengthy post. Today marks a year since I posted my first fic. There's a lot of cliche "wow, what a year it's been" feelings, but just know how grateful I am to you for reading my words. I wouldn't be here without @forspringcleaning, I'm forever grateful for her and our shared delulu🪿. Thank you to @mothandpidgeon, @schnarfer, @secretelephanttattoo, and @devineconjuring for being my writing and grammar hand holders. I can't imagine my life now without the five of you, so y'all are stuck with me. (Also, an extra shout out to Mothy for calling Joel a slut in my Google Docs.)

Elks Masterlist Masterlist Playlist Chapter Song: “Myth" by Beach House

The world ended the day after you bought your first homecoming dress. You had begged your mom for it—a beautiful deep forest green sequined gown with a sweetheart neckline that perfectly framed your prized gold daisy pendant. You twirled in the mirror of the dressing room, feeling like a princess, sparkling under the fluorescent lights of the department store. Life seemed perfect.

On the morning of September 26, 2003, your alarm blared you awake, pulling you from the dream of dancing under glittering chandeliers with a handsome prince. The only concern floating around your teenage brain was the grade you’d receive for your AP English essay.

You survived yet another monotonous day at high school. On your way home, your essay with a bold red A+ was safely stored in your messenger bag. With your guitar strapped to your back and headphones on, you listened to what would be the last lyrics before everything changed:

Hold your glass up, hold it in Never betray the way you’ve always known it is One day, I’ll be wondering how I got so old, just wondering how

Twenty years later, hardened by life in the Denver Quarantine Zone and gently softened by your now-comfortable life in Jackson, you’re still waiting for your first dance.

—-

Art and music have always been at the forefront of your life; you’ve never allowed anything to take away your creativity, continuing to create despite the pain of losing everyone you’ve loved to the plague roaming the earth. You create for yourself, using art as a way to soothe your thoughts and anxieties. You create for the Settlement of Jackson, to give back to the town that has given you a good life for the past five years. Most importantly, you create for your students at the school you’ve taught at since your arrival.

The fifteen years spent in the Denver QZ tried to steal your colors and mute your songs. Joy became more difficult to find as each year behind the imposing iron gates passed. The only sources of happiness were your small group of friends and your students in the desolate school you taught at. You never graduated high school; there was no pomp and circumstance, just a teaching job assigned to you because you were young and still remembered most of your high school education. That’s how your career was decided. It's funny how an apocalypse job search happens.

You tried to carve out as much of a life as you could under the overbearing and always watchful eyes of FEDRA soldiers, but it never felt whole. When the opportunity to leave Denver arrived, thanks to your kind neighbor’s sister, you grabbed the few items you could and ran away from the only state you’d ever called home.

Now, five years after your escape through the wasteland of the world to a better existence in Jackson, your life is filled with art, music, and purpose. Art supplied by the jars of paints you learned to make, and what the patrollers bring you back. Music from the CD player in your house and the guitar you strum. Purpose from the weekdays spent teaching your impressionable students, who have actual well-rounded futures, no longer doomed to become FEDRA fodder, along with the Saturdays spent working at the library you run out of your classroom.

It's a good and comfortable life here, even if the nights are lonely and the only company in your small cottage are your cats Ripley and Penny. Some extra lonely nights, when the moon sits high atop the mountains, you can’t silence the thoughts that there’s nobody in your life who creates beautiful things for you. Too many nights you find yourself thinking about the man that lives down the street from you.

Joel Miller.

He’s so intimidating. Handsome and caged off, like he’s your own little museum piece you keep to yourself now that museums are obsolete. You’ve never seen anybody more gorgeous, not even in the faded celebrity magazines you cut up to make collages. Soft, full lips always hidden under a frowning mustache that rests below a large hooked nose. His dark brown eyes often focused forward, always appearing in thought underneath furrowed brows. Dark, wavy hair that matches his eye color, with soft silver streaks painted throughout. His body is strong and broad, often hidden underneath a tan flannel-lined jacket. His hands are large, matching the rest of his features, with thick fingers that seem capable and dexterous; you can tell they’re efficient for any task you ask of them. His skin is golden, born that way and bronzed by years spent outdoors. He’s tall and big–so big. Somebody who has always been a protector. The precious pages of your notebook quickly deplete when you try to sketch and master the lines of his face. Maybe you could get the minute details if only you could stop being so afraid of the feelings he stirs inside you.

You’ve been enamored with him since he first showed up in Jackson. Your life, and all of those feelings you’ve tried to avoid for years, upended by his presence.

It was a normal day, like any other, when you walked into the Tipsy Bison to drop off some extra shoelaces and push pins for the community swap basket. Your eyes paused on the long communal table where your friends Maria and Tommy sat with two strangers.

A small teenage girl with a tight ponytail and a tattered sweatshirt was talking animatedly with her mouth full. You know kids well after all your years of teaching, and you could already spot her tenacity across the room. Sitting next to her, bent over a plate of food and clutching a fork in an untamed way, was a man with a mess of graying hair and a permanent scowl plastered on his handsome face, his eyes staring straight forward, void of kindness. You wondered when the last time somebody created something beautiful for him was.

You quickly flitted over to the corner where the communal basket sat and deposited your items, and as you turned around to head to the exit, you noticed the handsome stranger looking right at you. His eyes darted away right as yours widened at his attention before you made your hasty retreat out of the room.

That night you wrote a song about a once warm and inviting cabin sitting in the woods, now cold and desolate with tattered floor boards and a cracked window.

—-

The girl you saw at the Bison with the handsome stranger shows up in your class the following week. Ellie quickly becomes your favorite student thanks to her love of art and smart mouth. She’s always so eager to learn in the mornings before heading out with the other older kids for patrol and community training.

She doesn’t shut up about your handsome stranger. Joel. You’re able to parse together a few facts you hold close to your heart: he’s Tommy Miller’s older brother, Texas born-and-raised, grumpier than everyone else, and loves coffee. Everything she tells you makes you think about him more.

Sometimes you’ll see him walking down the road headed right towards you, but a quick tuck of your head or dash around the nearest corner helps alleviate the panic of being near him. One night you see him at the Tipsy Bison, drinking whiskey with Tommy in the corner. Your eyes staring unblinking before you realized how anyone could look over and see the way you’re ogling; you quickly created an excuse, telling your friends why you needed to head home, too overwhelmed by his presence just a couple of tables down. Seeing him stirs up so many foreign emotions inside you, but you like the rush. You like having your little crush, as long as you can keep your distance from him.

—-

“Jeez, what were they thinking when they named these bands? The Shins? The Strokes? The Yeah Yeah Yeahs? Did every band just pick a random word and put The in front of it?” Ellie questions as she peruses your CD collection while you grade papers. With training for the older students canceled due to the winter snow outside, Ellie had decided that you needed company in your classroom after school.

“Seems like it, doesn’t it?” you answer. “I’ll have to play them for you one day, those were some of my favorite bands when I was your age.”

“Really? Wicked! I’d love that!” She looks up from your CD book with an enthusiastic smile. You return her smile, happy for the bond the two of you share. “Joel loves music too. Wonder if he’d like any of these.” Your pen pauses and your heart races at the mention of his name. You feel foolish for the crush you have on your student’s “father.”

“I’m sure there’s something in there for everyone,” you say, stacking your papers and capping your pen. “I think we should get going before the sun sets, El. I’ll lock up.”

“Aw man, there’s nothing to do at home,” she sighs.

“Sorry, kid,” you shrug. “I’m helping at the Bison tonight.”

“Fiiiiiine,” she sighs as she grabs her backpack and jacket. “Bye, Teach!”

Watching her leave, the thought plants in your head that she’s only a couple years younger than you were when the outbreak happened. You vow to be there for her in any way you can.

—-

The world thaws as winter turns to spring, the sun stays up longer in the Wyoming sky each day. With clear roads and longer days, patrollers are able to venture farther from the gates, giving them a better chance to scavenge and bring their finds back. The wish list posted above the communal basket in the Tipsy Bison is filled with requests.

Residents ask for a broom, a TV input cable, a glue gun, crayons, and other utilitarian items to help make life easier. You think about writing down the one thing you wish for the most: a new CD player. Your prized possession finally spun its last song a couple of days ago, making your home fall silent without your constant companion of music. The irony isn’t lost on you; your just-as-ancient guitar now lies silent against the wall, the crack on the neck finally broken from overuse. You don’t write down your main wish, instead choosing to note that the school needs chalk and you need a new oven mitt.

That’s how life goes now, you’ve learned to live with much less before, and you’ll learn to do it again.

—-

When Joel Miller arrived in Jackson, he doubted he would ever feel at home. But now, as he approaches the white house with the mailbox labeled MILLER, he feels that feeling he hasn’t felt in almost two decades… a sense of peace.

Hell, he and Ellie have called Jackson home for six months now. He has a job, he’s met a couple people he can stand to be around, and he has a warm bed to sleep in every night. He has a home, even though he still feels like he’s a lost man.

His back aches when he bends over to remove his mud-caked boots by the door, a testament to the hard day’s work he put in helping Tommy haul bricks to repair one of the buildings on the main street. He welcomes the discomfort, it’s just like old times, the Miller brothers working together again.

He’s already thinking about the scalding hot shower he’ll take to soothe his muscles when he opens the front door.

His backpack almost slips out of his hand when he sees you in his living room, sitting cross-legged on the floor. He quietly closes the door, trying to stay as silent as he can. It’s you… Ellie’s teacher—the one she won’t shut up about. The pretty girl he saw at the Tipsy Bison all those months ago, the same pretty girl he sometimes watches when he thinks nobody is looking, the same pretty girl who he catches darting away each time he thinks their paths might just cross.

You're bent over a large sketchpad, pencil in hand, with Ellie beside you.

Both of you are so focused on whatever you're creating, the music coming from the stereo is loud enough that neither of you notice his entrance. He stands frozen in the doorway, taking in the sight of you in his home.

"The perspective is all wrong," Ellie groans. "I can't get it right."

"Here," you say, angling the paper. "Try looking at the paper like this, and imagine you're standing, looking at the tree."

“Ohhhh, shit,” Ellie happily exclaims.

“Language,” Joel reprimands, surprising himself. “And I thought I told you not to touch my stereo, kid.”

—-

The deep timbre of a Texas-accented voice shocks you. Your heart begins to thud against your chest, goosebumps spreading along your body; you’re frozen on the floor while you attempt to hide your internal panic.

Joel is home.

Of course he’s home. This is HIS home, and you’re in it breaking HIS rules by listening to your favorite mixed CD on HIS stereo system, which is much grander than your pitiful broken CD player. Why did you think letting YOUR STUDENT, who’s half your age, convince you this was a good idea?

He gives you a half smile when you turn to him, mouth slightly agape at the sight of him. Joel Miller is in Joel Miller’s house with you.

“I know, relax!” Ellie’s response drips with her unshakeable sarcasm as she turns the stereo off. “This is the teacher I told you about. Her stereo broke and I invited her over so she could play me some of her stuff,” Ellie reasons. The kid is never not convincing. “I’m being active in the community like you asked me to,”

You quickly stuff your CD case into your backpack and stand, trying to escape the anxiety of being in the cozy Miller household with the not-so-cozy-looking Mr. Miller.

“Mm,” Joel grunts out before turning to you and reaching his hand out. “I‘m Joel.” His big hand envelops yours when you softly grab it to say hello.

You nervously give him your name, trying to calm your panicked heart. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to overstep any boundaries. My stereo broke a couple days ago and she knew it upset me.” You nervously stammer feeling like a thirteen year old in trouble again as you begin to fiddle with the gold daisy chain around your neck.

“Don’t worry about it,” he insists, glancing at Ellie. “I can look past this if it means you’re getting out of that damn garage.”

“She has way better music taste than you. None of that twangy sad music you try to get me to listen to,” Ellie replies, rolling her eyes. You wonder if every conversation they have is Joel putting a rule down and Ellie defying it.

“I-I need to go, I promised Helen I’d help at the Tipsy Bison tonight.” You’re not due for another hour but you can’t fathom the idea of being around Joel Miller for any longer.

“Well, you’re welcome back whenever you want… right Joel?” Ellie looks at him, angling her eyebrow, knowing she’s going to get the answer she wants from him.

You can feel the heat rising to your cheeks, the rapid rise and fall of your chest. It’s almost too much… and then Joel looks at you with warmth in his eyes.

“Of course. S’pose any friend of Ellie’s is welcome here,” Joel hesitates with a smile, his deep brown eyes crinkle in the corners. He’s ridiculously handsome this close, it’s staggering.

“Thank you again Ellie, I’ll see you tomorrow, make sure you bring your notebook.”

Joel opens the door for you and steps aside, as you pass him, your shoulder brushes his chest. You pray he doesn’t hear the way your breath hitches.

You hope the distinct woodsy smell of Joel’s house on your jacket will linger for a while. You almost trip when you realize you’ve left your favorite mixed CD in Joel’s stereo.

—-

Joel knows you’ll never be able to tell how many times he’s listened to your CD, and yet every time he plays it a pang of guilt sits within him. Funny that this is what he feels guilty about after all of his years.

The truth is, he doesn’t recognize any of the songs, and about half of the CD doesn’t appeal that much to him, but damn, he would love to hear you explain why you chose each song.

He hasn’t even taken your CD out of the player, too afraid to hurt a relic of yours. He really likes track 8. There’s a haunting guitar, a slightly whiny voice telling him to “cheer up honey, I hope you can.” He can feel the lyrics in his soul, he likes the way the static sounds, the strumming of the guitar, the hopelessness in the singer’s voice.

He often plays it on repeat, imagining you listening and humming along with your sweet voice.

He wonders how old you were when everything happened, where you’re from, how you got here… why he’s so drawn to you.

The song begins again, he closes his eyes and thinks of you.

—-

Weeks pass. Spring arrives, the ground softens, trees adorned with bright green leaves sway in the gentle breeze rolling off the mountains, and the flowers bloom along the vast gardens of fruits and vegetables. Everyone’s days turn longer with more tasks to accomplish. A sense of hope and rejuvenation fills the air for everyone, no longer bunkered down and locked away by the snowy weather.

Your favorite mixed CD has fallen victim to your inability to be anywhere near Joel. Strangely, it brings a sense of nostalgia to you, kind of like when you'd forget a CD in your friend's car or in your locker over winter break. It's not like you have anything to play it on, your house still sits silent, your stereo and guitar still sit broken and unusable.

Though, during the early days of spring, you’re hardly ever home. You've been filling your time with extra work: assisting with spring planting in the community gardens, organizing the supply room at the schoolhouse, and taking more shifts at the Bison. Jackson is your home and you love making it better.

Today’s a warmer day than usual, the sun shines bright and hot in the clear, blue Wyoming sky; all you can think about is getting home and taking a long bath after helping out at the community garden.

Your quick footsteps pitter patter against the warm asphalt in front of Joel’s house. Your heart always starts to beat faster when it comes into view.

This sweltering afternoon you’ve certainly lucked out, he’s in his yard working on repairing a broken fence post. Your steps begin to slow as you see him set the hammer down, wipe the back of his hand across his sweaty brow, and stretch his back.

Panic sets in at the realization he could look right over and see you in the state you’re currently in. You’ve been up to your knees in soil since school ended, watering and deadheading plants while letting the dirt on your skin bake in the warm sun.

Your anxious steps pick up pace, failing to hop over the divot in the road you always remember to avoid. A trip and a fall ends with you landing hard on your stomach knocking the wind out of you. You can just make out the fall of heavy boot steps on the ground over the sound of your lungs gasping for air as you turn over.

“Whoa whoa whoa, you okay darlin’?” Joel asks. His broad body eclipses the bright sun when he bends over your body splayed out on the pavement. “S’alright, s’alright, breathe.”

You lose even more breath at the sight of him. The sheen of sweat against his skin makes it glow bright. This is the first time you’ve seen him without a jacket or flannel, you can’t help but stare at the constellation of freckles on his neck that you’ve never noticed. His biceps strain the fabric of his short sleeves when he reaches to put a comforting hand on your shoulder.

You can’t tell if you’re still panicking from your fall or the stress of Joel seeing you as pathetic as you think you look. He called you darling and you feel like a fool.

"I'm alright—I-I'm sorry... I'm alright," you manage to say between breaths. A whimper of as you attempt to stand but it hurts far too much.

“Hold on, hold on, there’s no need to rush, you took a mighty fall. Ya’ got a big cut on your knee, let me help you,” Joel says, his eyes scanning you, worry etching his furrowed brows.

“No, no, I’m okay really, I-I’m really okay.”

“S’alright now, I have some peroxide and bandages in my house. Ellie’d kill me if she knew I left you here hurt ‘n alone,” he implores reaching his hand out. "I want to help you, come here."

“I– okay,” you grab his hand, his strong fingers wrap around yours, oh god he’s so warm. “I-I don’t want to bother you.”

“Now, I’ll have none ‘a that, come on,” he helps you stand steadying you with an arm around your waist, the adrenaline of being this close to him makes a bit of the pain fade, though the humiliation remains.

He slowly leads you up his walkway, his hand firmly splayed against your hip. Your head rests against him, close enough to feel the dampness of his sweaty shirt on your cheek.

You’re back in Joel Miller’s house, the realization isn’t lost on you that you’ve felt like an idiot both times you've been here. What is your luck?

Joel gently helps you settle on his couch, placing a pillow behind your back for support. "You alright?” he asks, his voice drags heavily with concern.

You nod, keeping your eyes focused on your bare legs, marred by dirt and gravel mixed with blood.

“Just relax for a second, I’ll go grab everything." He retreats, his loud boot steps get fainter allowing you to take a deep breath, trying to regain your composure.

Your solitude now allows a chance to look closely at Joel’s living room. The last time you were in his house you were far too anxious to focus on anything. But now you can look around, and realize that despite his reputation for being gruff and irritable, his home is quite warm and inviting.

Wood carvings sit on shelves, a couple of tattered sports magazines lay on the coffee table, a chipped owl mug sits atop a book on the side table next to a chair. All of it presents quite domestic and comfortable for a single man and an adopted daughter in the apocalypse.

Your eyes roam along the beige walls and pause when you spot a familiar painting hung near the front window. An elk stands alone, amongst a field of flowers, large antlers reach into the light blue sky. You painted it just a few months ago, using your favorite water colors. You gave it to Tommy for Christmas, as a thank you for always making sure you have first dibs of paints that patrollers bring in. Why does Joel have it?

“Don’t have any large bandages but I got a gauze roll,” Joel startles you when he takes a seat atop the coffee table across from you.

“That’s my painting? I painted that… for Tommy,” your inner thoughts escape your mouth, surprising you.

He turns and follows your eyes to the small piece of paper pinned on his wall. “You painted that? S’good. Saw it on my brother’s wall and asked him if I could have it. He was kinda reluctant but I told him how it reminds me of the painting I used to have over my bed before… everything.” The last word comes out as a huff, like he still doesn't know what word to use for these last twenty years.

“I love elks, they remind me of where I’m from… I’ve always liked painting the wildlife I grew up around the most,” your eyes remain focused on your painting. “Herds of elk used to live near my Dad’s home in the mountains, I used to hear their calls during the mating season.”

“S’nice to remember those small moments, I guess your painting helps me,” he gently muses.

“I’m glad,” you whisper.

He clears his throat as he begins to prepare the supplies. "Let me clean up those knees," he lowly says.

You nod, grateful, but still embarrassed.

Joel delicately lifts your leg and places it on his lap, resting it against the soft strength of his thighs. Your heart feels like it’s going to burst out of your chest when you look down at this intimate moment with your dream man. Your breaths escape your mouth in rapid succession, your only hope is Joel blames your panic on the threat of the peroxide and not his close proximity.

“S’gonna sting,” he warns before pouring the clear liquid onto your knee. Your breath catches in your throat when it hits your sensitive skin and burns. You suppress a whimper and feel slightly dizzy at the sight of him bending forward and delicately blowing on your wound. His breath cools the heat of your burning skin but lights a fire inside of your body you haven’t felt in years. He glances up, his dark brown eyes stay focused on your face. “Doin’ alright?”

You nervously chew on your bottom lip and nod. “Y-yes, yeah,” you mumble, “I-I’m okay it just hurts a lot to move.” Heaven forbid you tell him the truth, that you’re acting this way because he’s the most gorgeous man you’ve ever seen, and now his hands are on you.

"I know, that gravel is a sucker," he gently reassures, picking up your other leg and placing it on top of his lap. “S’bouta sting again,” he warns.

You try to focus on the burn of the peroxide and not on Joel’s fingertips resting against the back of your knee. He blows on the peroxide as it bubbles again, your heart skips a beat when his deep brown eyes meet yours again. You get the sense that he knows exactly why you’re responding the way you are.

He lifts a faded gray wash cloth up and wipes both of your knees with the utmost tenderness. He picks up the fabric bandage, and lifts your knee higher to rest your foot against his broad chest.

“Place a finger here so I can wrap you,” Joel directs just as gently as his touch. “Tell me if it feels too tight.” His hand tightens around your knee while he slowly winds the gauze around your leg and bandages your wound. “How’s that?”

You bend your leg back and forth and place it on the floor. “Feels good, thanks.”

“Course,” he says, lifting your other leg higher to start. He smirks when you place your finger on top of the bandage without him asking, and begins to wrap the gauze around your other leg.

“I’d try to take it easy the next few days, give you a chance to heal,” Joel utters, tucking the bandage in and smoothing it down.

“I will. Thanks for all your help… you really didn’t have to,” your voice breaking with embarrassment.

“You don’t have to thank me, Ellie’d kill me if she found out I left you hurt in front of my home,” he cracks a smile at the mention of her name. “She talks about you a lot, I should be thanking you for giving her a reason to love goin’ to school.”

“She’s one of the best parts of my day,” your smile matches his when you think about her and her smart mouth, “I love having her around, she’s always so eager to learn… and give her opinion."

“She's always showing me some new art way she learned from you or talking about a band she wants to hear that you told her about. You mean a lot to her.”

“She’s a special kid.”

“She is,” he says, his deep brown eyes looking into yours. You’ve never noticed just how much his dark eyes glisten. Like the perfect color of black coffee.

The sweet shared moment turns more awkward as you both maintain eye contact and nod over your shared adoration of Ellie. It feels like he’s looking at you under a microscope.

“Well, I should get going,” you say cutting the tension before scooting forward on the couch.

Joel rises, reaching out his hand to help you. The warmth of his hand sends a shiver across your body as you stand, trying to hide the wince of pain when you put weight on your scraped knees.

"You sure you're alright to walk home?"

“Yeah, I think so,” you respond. “I’ve already taken up enough of your time. Thank you for everything.”

“S’no problem at all,” he says, placing a hand on your back as you walk towards the door. "I'd feel better walking you home… just to make sure."

“Oh, um—” you stammer, caught off guard by his offer. “I’ll be okay, I don’t live far at all. Plus, it’ll be good for me to get used to walking with the bandages on.”

“If you insist, at least take it slow.”

He helps you down the few steps, you spy his tools laying abandoned on the lawn. “I hope I didn’t keep you from finishing your fence,” you apologize.

“I’ll manage… take care of yourself,” his hand retreats from your back when he opens the gate for you.

“Thanks Joel, you too.”

You really shouldn’t have looked back at him to get one last glimpse, he’s beautiful, especially now lit by the slowly setting sun.

Walking away from him as confidently as you can, you feel his eyes follow you the whole way. You’ve never been so thankful to see your little cottage, escaping behind the protection of your front door before you grin and grab your paints and brushes. You sit at your kitchen table and paint a picture of an elk, this time with golden toned fur and deep brown eyes.

—-

His heart beats with an unfamiliar feeling as he watches you hobble down the road, too proud to glance back, obviously too embarrassed for your own good. If only you knew how often he thinks about you, how closely he listens to Ellie when she talks about you, how many times he’s replayed that old mixed CD of yours with your name and the pretty faded flowers drawn on it… maybe then you’d look back at him.

You fell in front of his home like an angel falling from the sky. He picked you up and bandaged your wounds.

Today, you gave him a purpose, he loves having a purpose. Some days he feels that purpose dwindling behind the protective gates of Jackson. Ellie’s comfortable here, she doesn’t need him as much, what with all of her friends and teenage responsibilities. She’s thriving here, and he’s left feeling adrift. He’d never admit it, not even to Tommy. At least there’s always patrol and the freedom that provides him.

Maybe he just needs more of a purpose, more of a reason here, maybe then he’d be satisfied.

He steps back into his home, glancing at the couch you were just sitting on, before retreating to his studio. He unwraps his tools and picks up the perfect block of wood. Running his fingers over the smooth surface, he envisions the intricate lines he’ll carve for the fur, he feels a whisper of intimidation at the thought of shaping the delicate antlers.

Woodworking has been a new discovery for him, he’s always been better at settling his thoughts when his hands are occupied. He thinks of the first time he saw you all those months ago when he makes his first deliberate cut.

—-

Saturday mornings are always busy, running your library never allows you the luxury to eat breakfast at the hall like everyone else does on the weekends. You’re always turning to the left rushing towards the schoolhouse while everyone takes a right heading to eggs, pancakes, and coffee. This particular Saturday you’re moving slower thanks to your injured knees and the large box of books that patrol brought you from their runs.

“Mornin’," Joel shouts, quickly striding towards you from the hall exit. “Lemme take those for you.”

“Oh, hi,” you say as you pause in your tracks. You’re a little flustered to see him, completely thrown off when he stops in front of you, reaching out and taking the box out of your hands. “You really don’t have to take–"

“None ‘a that,” he shushes, effortlessly lifting the box of books higher. "Where are we going with these?"

"Just over to the school house for the library," you nod your head towards the little brick building.

“How are the knees doing?” he asks, slowing his gait to match your slower pace.

“A lot better, thanks.”

“Glad to hear.”

You fish the key out of your pocket, unlock the door, and let Joel follow you down the hallway to your classroom. You flick the lights on, fluorescent bulbs buzz illuminating your second home.

The thought of Joel seeing your second home, filled with your’s and your student’s art makes you nervous. The walls are covered with colorful drawings and paintings, shelves lined with worn books, and various art supplies organized in labeled containers.

You sit in your chair to rest your already aching knees, you’d still be halfway to the schoolhouse if it wasn’t for Joel’s kind assistance.

“You can put the box on my desk,” you direct, rubbing your sore knee.

He places the box on your desk, before his eyes shift to the bright mural on the wall behind your desk. “Wow, I haven’t seen something like this in a long time. S’beautiful,” he murmurs in awe.

A grin lifts your tired face before you swivel in your chair to look at the mural. “Goodness, thank you. I just finished it a few weeks ago. I really wanted to make sure the kids had something fun and colorful to focus on while in class. It was hard for me to work in this plain, white room for so long. It took a long time to save up enough paint.”

He slowly walks over and places his hand on the cinder block wall. “Bluebells. The flower of Texas,” he faintly whispers.

His large fingers trace the lines of your painted indigo petals, it feels almost forbidden to see such soft tenderness from hands that are usually so tough and strong. He had touched you with the same gentleness when he bandaged your scraped knees. There was once softness surrounding all of Joel, the permanent grimace and rough reputation for him brought on by the harshness of existing in this world.

He turns to you, keeping his hand on your mural. “Where you from?” he asks, curiously gazing into your eyes.

“I was in the Denver QZ.”

“No, where were you from before everything?”

“Oh, sorry. Still Colorado, just more in the mountains,” you say, concentrating on the columbine flower painted next to the bluebell. “Florissant to be exact. It’s a little town famous for dinosaurs. I was very lucky to be where I was when everything happened—just far enough to escape.”

“Nice state, I went skiing there once as a teen, had plans to go again before… everything,” he turns to look back at the bluebells again.

“Big of a Texan to compliment Colorado,” you jest, as you stand up, picking up your library supplies from the desk. A smile tugs at your lips as you move around the desk.

He chuckles and shakes his head. “Good one.”

You start placting down your hand-painted placards on the tables, each card illustrated with a different genre.

He walks over and picks one of the cards up and admires it. “These are real nice,” Joel says picking up one labeled ‘Science Fiction’ with a painting of stars, and a rocket. “Can I help you?”

“If you want, just pick up a pile of books and put them on their respective tables. Children’s, Mystery, Romance, Non-Fiction, Sci-Fi, Miscellaneous.”

He dutifully picks up a stack of books. “You do this by yourself?”

“Usually. I’ll sometimes have help, but I think everyone here works so hard during the week that they like their slow Saturdays. I wouldn’t want to ask them to give up sleeping in.”

He holds up a thick paperback with yellowed pages and a burgundy cover. On the cover, a muscular, orange-toned man with flowing blonde hair cradles a wispy brunette damsel. “I take it with a title like ‘Burning Tenderness’ it goes in romance?” Joel winks. You’d never imagine you would ever see someone like him joke, let alone wink.

“Well, I’d fire you on the spot if you placed it in non-fiction.”

His bellowing laugh echoes across your classroom. You like hearing him laugh.

—-

The library is set up in record time, a half hour before opening, thanks to Joel’s help.

You take a seat on the edge of your desk to rest your knees. “I’ve never gotten done this early before. Between your help with my knees and today I feel like I owe you something. Is there any way I could repay you for your kindness?”

He sighs, glancing back at your mural. His brows furrow as his eyes move over the painted wall. “Those bluebells you painted,” he inhales a deep breath, “do you think you could paint some of those for me in my house?”

You’re stunned by his request, his words taking a moment to register. Paint for Joel Miller? In his home? “You… want me to paint for you?”

“If you’d be willing,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

“Oh my, I’d love to,” your face lights with a smile. “I can start it anytime.”

“D’you want to come over Monday after you’re done at the school? I already told Ellie I’d spend the day with her tomorrow.”

“That sounds great,” you reply, not believing your luck that Joel Miller is inviting you over to his house.

“Alright, Monday it is. Should probably get going ‘n start my day,” he says, raising a book in his hand. “Taking this as payment for my work today.”

“‘As I Lay Dying?’ Didn’t pin you as a Faulkner fan,” you muse, opening your logbook to note the title down.

“Liked the horse on the cover.”

“So Texas,” you chuckle, shaking your head. “It’s a good book. Enjoy it Joel.”

“See you Monday. Good luck today.”

“Yes, Monday,” you respond, trying not to smile too hard. “Thanks again for all your help.”

“Course,” he nods before walking out the door.

Today’s going to be a great day, it already started out better than you ever could have hoped.

—-

Back home after a busy day you sit in your favorite chair with your cats on your lap and sketch bluebells until you fall asleep with your pencil in hand.

Divider courtesy of @/saradika-graphics

perma tags: @forspringcleaning, @schnarfer, @mothandpidgeon

Tagging some mutuals and those who requested. (As always, let me know if you'd like to be put on or taken off.) @secretelephanttattoo, @sawymredfox, @moonlitbirdie, @arcanefox207, @almostfoxglove, @pascalssbabyy, @toomanytookas

@jolapeno, @goodwithcheese, @msjarvis, @itwasntimethatdidit40, @burntheedges, @magpiepills, @maggiemayhemnj

@ace-turned-confused, @lorettafudge, @jennaispunk, @lotusbxtch

@sunnytuliptime, @sizzlingcloudmentality, @cheekychaos28, @ashleyfilm

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flyervel · 21 hours ago

Text

Being the popular boy in your school, many girls even boys admire you. Impressed by your strength and capability in sports. Nearly everyday, you went to your locker with love cards pilling up. You'd often flex this to your friends.

But it still never impressed the boy from your physics class.

You'd often see him roll his eyes the moment he saw you, your abs? He isn't even looking at them, his eyes were just glued to his book. People in your school often try to pick a fight with him which leads to you beating those kids. You often find yourself gazing at his face, every detail of his expression. Your friends even teased you for liking a nerd like him. But who cared?

Who cares when you're in his house, he was supposed to study you for a pop quiz. But you two ended up on his desk, his hands gripping over his wooden table with books stacking to piles, his tight rim sucking to the tip of your cock while he moaned like a whore, trying to focus.

"Fuck M/N—" He turned his head, his eyes watery from you pounding his rim. "Stay focus—fuck—we have a quiz tomorrow—"

You shut him down with a firm slap on his cheeks, your hand printing over his ass. "We can study later," You said, your hands then clawed over his buttocks before slamming your whole cock to his inner walls hitting his prostate. You looked at his expression—cheeks flushed, eyes watery, and his mouth shaping like an "o".

You wished you could record everything, especially after you told him to get to his knees, his mouth taking your cock, while your cum drip from his asshole. You saw him sucking you with hearted eyes, gagging by your length.

"Good boy..." You muttered while patting his head. After he sucked you dry, you thought you'd continue your study. He turned around, showing his empty ass to you. "Mgh, I can't feel empty..." He whined, making your cock go hard again.

How's the quiz gonna do? Who knows.

—

Thank you very much to the Anon who requested this. I hope you and others enjoyed this.

#top male reader #male reader #x male reader #bottom character

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notsodelirious · 2 days ago

Note

everyone seems to think jason is this big bad dom who's kinky and teasing and all that shit

NO??? PLEASE??????

let me tell you, jason as big as he is, he's just as soft and WILL melt the moment your fingers graze him ANYWHERE

bro starts whimpering even at the mere THOUGHT you touching his dick, but would never bring it up cause he's scared you'll reject him and be disgusted

so he puts on his mask, kisses you, teases a bit, and then backs off as if nothing happened

but the moment you do initiate anything with him? he's gone, left, away

he can't help but pour all his love into you, it's almost emotional

he's so touch deprived and needy for any kind of positive attention and affirmation that he has to will himself to not cry when you look at him with so much love in your eyes, much less when you want to show him just how much you love him

AND GOD PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE KISS THAT MANS SCARS

HE MIGHT ACTUALLY START CRYING

he has always been so ashamed of them, so scared you'll run off the moment you see him, all of him (especially about the autopsy scar)

so the moment you stay instead? the moment you stare at him with adoration and litter him with kisses, saying how beautiful he looks? IM SORRY, HES GONE

him and the puddle on the floor? same thing

yearning is this mans first language and I stand by it

I've been seeing so much of dom Jay so please let my boy be soft😭

(tim, on the other hand, is exactly what people think jason is, mans a little snarky piece of shit everywhere and always, and i love him as he is)

(also sorry for the rant, got carried away a bit 😅)

absolutely no worries about the rant Anon, I love your way of thinking <3 sorry this took so long but I hope this answers your prompt

Look at me — Jason Todd

synopsis — you love Jason, even if he doesn’t believe you’ll love every part of him

notes — NSFW MDNI pretty please, also so long and so not edited, so apologies (edit — has been proofread, somewhat, but still not edited)

tags — established relationship, mentions of canon death, mild blood and injury, smut as mentioned above, 2.5k words, no use of y/n, gn!reader, Jason calls the reader “baby” and “babe”

The first time you see his scars, it’s completely unintentional. You run cold so you’re constantly turning the heat up in your apartment, far beyond what Jason thinks is reasonable. He complains, but you can’t help but note he’s a big guy, ‘obviously he’s not going to feel as cold as you do’.

His complaints continue, even after you’ve settled down to watch a movie, moaning about how ‘it’s so damn hot in here, it feels like a sauna’, and then proceeds to pull his hoodie off. You didn’t mean to stare as he tugs the offending piece of clothing over his head, but his shirt rids up just the slightest bit. Just enough to reveal a gnarled pink scar across his hip bone and a sharp, clean but raised scar right down his lower abdomen.

You’ve always assumed he has scars—he’s a vigilante; you’ve seen him come home limping more times than you’ve seen him get a full 8 hours of sleep.

Besides, it isn’t as if you’ve never seen any scars on him. He exists in t-shirt and the skin there is littered with scars of all shapes and sizes, from gunshot wounds to knives to mosquito bites. You’ve treated the occasional surface wound on his face or leg from time to time. You had seen his skin and he’s shown himself to you.

But that doesn’t stop you from staring.

This is different.

Only as the realisation that you’ve never seen him shirtless dawns on you, that you start to consider why that is.

You almost reach out to brush your fingers against the raised skin but he manages to dislodge himself from his jumper before then.

He tosses it onto the floor, kicks it out of the way just enough so neither of you will trip on it. He pauses briefly when he notices you, your stare. You tug his shirt down before he can even consider the movement himself, covering the sliver of skin that had been exposed to you.

You sit, in complete silence. You aren’t waiting for anything, you simply have nothing to say as you continue to watch the movie. A shaky hand reaches for yours and you can’t help the warmth in your heart when you feel his lips rest against the back of your hand.

The second time, you don’t even see anything at all. Another movie, a little less attention paid to it, as Jason kisses on you, your cheeks, neck, lips. You laugh softly as you let him, gently running your fingers through his hair, smiling at him as he comes up for air.

“What are you smiling like that for?”

“I just happen to have the prettiest boyfriend.”

You almost miss how his cheeks flush softly in the dark room and you laugh a little louder, pulling him down for a kiss as you straddle his lap. You let your hands roam, feeling his broad shoulders, arms and back as he dissolves beneath your touch, like sugar in warm water. You smile against his lips as he sinks into the sofa, soft panting a little too frantic for the slow-paced make-out session.

“Is somebody flustered?” you joke kindly as you tilt your head to lean against his cheek, hands on his hips and tugging on the hem of his shirt. “Don’t know what to do with yourself?”

“Please…”

You pull back just enough to see his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows, his eyes practically crossing all to look up at you, and watch your face.

“Please?” you repeat softly, as your fingertips brush against his lower stomach, feeling the muscles tense and twitch at the featherlight touch. “What are you asking for, baby?”

Your fingers creep higher, following the raised bumps and lines you can feel on his skin, under his shirt. He shivers, a soft moan slipping past his lips as you reach his pecs. You lay your palms flat against them, taking great joy in squeezing them gently and making Jason’s heart pound faster beneath your hand.

“Enjoying yourself?” you said, sly as you kiss his jaw, down his neck to press your lips to his pulsing jugular.

“I- please, I-“ You can’t help the breathy laugh as you move downwards, leaving tender, open mouth kisses along his throat, sucking his skin here and there, revelling in the soft moans and whimpers that slip from the back of his throat. Almost instinctually, his hips buck against yours—you hum, amused, before grinding back against him, feeling him tremble beneath your ministrations.

“I-“

Your hands continue to feel under his shirt, around his ribs, down his waist, down his sternum-

“Stop.”

You freeze, pull back and look at him.

“Jay?”

“I just-“ he swallows as he looks at himself, then at you, as if debating whether or not he should finish the thought and explain. Eventually, he just wordlessly shakes his head, pulling your hands out from beneath his shirt, “No.”

“Okay,” you kiss his cheek before sliding off his lap to settle beside him. You don’t understand what’s wrong, and as curious as you are, it’s not like you’re going to push him for an answer.

Jason is many things: loyal, kind, loving, a dickhead—but emotionally vulnerable and open is not part of that list. Pushing him to do or say anything leads to a quick dismissal at best. And an outburst at worst.

Jason would come to you in his own time.

That time happened to be a week later.

It’s a long night, he forgets himself. He climbs in through your window, tries to be as quiet as possible. But tonight, he forgets himself, shuts the window behind himself just a little too hard and the frame rattles softly. He doesn’t notice you stir or the soft mumble as you roll onto your side, too focused on trying to shed his leather jacket. Through bleary eyes, you can just about see him move about the room, hearing him curse silently.

The bathroom door closes before the lights flick on. Cupboards open and close, more cursing. You slip out of bed, recoiling a little at the cold floorboards beneath your feet, and pad towards the bathroom, knocking softly before pushing the door open.

“Jay?-“

“Shit-“

You freeze at the sight of each other. His bloody shirt is on the floor, staining a couple of your white tiles a vibrant red. Medical supplies are strewn across the counter, medical gauze packs ripped open and a suture needle halfway set up.

And Jason was…

A large gash spanned from his ribs to his hips—at least from what you could from beneath the bloodied towel he was holding his wound.

“Jesus, don’t you knock-“

“What happened?” you ask instead, rushing forward to help him staunch the bleeding. He groans as you apply pressure but doesn’t push you away, letting you come up close to him. You chance a peek beneath the make shift compress, trying to not pull a face as you convince yourself it’s not as bad as it looks.

“I’ll stitch you up,” you say softly as you look around the bathroom—the suture kit that he had already pulled out isn’t sterile anymore, you’ll have to take out a new one… “Go lie down, I’ll…” You trail off as you look up at him, meet his distant gaze as he stares down at you, almost unseeing. “Jay?”

He blinks and the afterimage of fear you saw flicker across his face is gone, face falling back into something more impassive.

“Lie down,” he mumbles, “Yeah… yeah, sure.”

He slips away from you, most likely a little dazed from the bloodloss. You’re itching to now how he got to that point, who could have gotten close enough to slice him like that but you shelve all those questions for later and begin to prep from wound care instead to go make sure your boyfriend doesn’t bleed.

You return to him minutes later, with an unopened first aids kit and clean hands and kneel beside him, from where he was sat on the edge of the bed.

“You don’t have to…”

“Horizontal, babe,” you say softly as you nudge him. He settles as you flip open the kit and start cleaning his wound, apologising quietly for every wince and sharp breath.

Stitching him up is simple enough—his pain tolerance terrifies you but you don’t utter a word, just make sure to get the job done as swiftly and painlessly as possible.

You cut the last stitch, roll off your gloves, dump the whole thing on the bedside table—unsanitary and dangerous but your hands are trembling a little too much and your nerves a little too frayed from worry to truly care.

“Okay,” you swallow as you press a piece of clean gauze against his fresh stitches, “Sit up, lemme bandage you up.” Jason complies as best he can, muscles flexing under his skin as he sits up for you and you shuffle closer to wrap clean bandages around his midriff. You try to solely pay attention to the task at hand but now that nobody is in danger of bleeding out, you can’t help but let your eyes wonder across his bare torso. They trace the scars that litter his chest, linger on the large Y, carved from beneath his collarbones, joining at his sternum before disappearing beneath my bandaging.

“Sorry,” he says in a small voice. You tuck the end of the wrap into itself before you look up at him. He doesn’t look back, expression almost sheepish as if he were embarrassed. “I’ll put a shirt on-“

“Don’t.” You climb up onto the bed, straddling his thighs as you cup his face, “You’re gorgeous.”

“Don’t say that…”

“Have I ever lied to you?”

“You told me you didn’t finish the ice cream last week.”

Your laugh rings clear in the still bedroom as you lean forward to kiss him.

“Well I’m not lying now,” you whisper against his lips. The kiss is slow, tender, as you both pour your souls into each other. “You scared me shitless.”

“Sorry-“

Your fingertips graze along the large scar on his chest.

“I’d ask you not to do it again but you probably will, won’t you?” He nods as he follows your hand, breathing deepening ever so slightly as you feel him. “Guess I’ll just have to enjoy you while I have you here.”

“Babe…”

“Shh,” you push him down carefully, avoiding his injury. “Just let me take care of you.”

His sighs are soft as he follows your lead, letting himself be pushed and pulled around. You kiss him, in a way only a devotee can worship their deity, lavishing him and devouring him.

“You’re so fucking pretty.”

You move down his body, from his jaw to his neck. Your tongue runs along the straight scar there—you wonder what happened. You always wonder. But some stories were better kept for quieter nights.

Your lips and tongue brush along his skin, tracing every jagged scar you come across.

“Babe…” he moans breathily as he squirms ever so slightly beneath you, resisting the urge to buck his hips against your body.

“Is there something you’d like, handsome?” You smile as you thumb his nipples, your glee only growing as he whimpers, arching his back into your touch. You pinch them, tug them, make him squirm and pant harder. “You’re so needy, aren’t you?”

“Baby, please-“

You leave hickeys on his chest, following the large scar down between his pecs.

“So desperate.”

“Babe-“

You bite his pec, not hard enough to draw blood but enough to make him keen and buck his hips against yours, making you groan in turn. He grinds his covered hard-on against your crotch, seeking any friction he can.

“You need it, don’t you?”

His nodding is furtive and eager and your heart sores while your hand creeps downwards, following down his happy trail and dipping past his waistband.

“What do we say when we want something?”

“Please,” he whimpers as he looks up at you, adoration and desperation pooling in his deep green eyes. Tears brim along his waterline when you finally wrap your hand around his cock, warm and heavy against your palm. “Please. Please, please, baby, please-“

You tug him out of his underwear before you slowly start to pump, running your thumb along the head of his cock, teasing his leaking slit with the pad of your thumb.

“Such a polite boy,” you purr just as you sink lowered, kissing the scar on his hip before nuzzling your cheek against his cock. “Stay still for me, okay baby?”

You don’t give him any more warning before you’re sinking down on him, taking him into your mouth, wrapping your hand around what you can’t reach. You hollow your cheeks as you pull back up, bobbing your head on his dick as he moans and whimpers above you.

“Baby, baby, fuck-“

You hum in response, vibrations running through him making him shudder. His fingers tangle in your hair as suck his dick, gripping you like he’s unsure whether he wants you to stay or go.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, babe-“

You look up at him from beneath teary eyelashes, blinking up at him as if you aren’t choking on his dick. You pull away, making him whine in protest but you don’t cave, continuing to jerk him off.

“You wanna cum, handsome.”

“Yes! Yes, yes, please, I’m- please.”

You lick the precum pearling from his tip before you swallow him down again, grinning at the soft wail and tightening grip. You feel more than hear the moment he tumbles over edge, thick cum shooting down your throat. You swallow before you can choke, but tears gather in your eyes, leaving you sputtering and coughing slightly when you come up for air.

“Good?” you ask softly as you wipe your face. He mumbles unintelligibly as he nods, strong arms finding your shoulders to drag you closer.

He mumbles something about returning the favour later, but you just laugh quietly as you pull him against you, resting his head against your shoulder, so he can bury his face in the crook of your neck.

“Don’t worry about it,” you say as you run a hand through his hair. Only to pause as you bring a hand up to your mouth, pulling a hair out of your mouth.

Jason freezes before chuckling softly, wrapping his arms around your waist.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be. I don’t mind hair in my food,” you quip back cheekily, which only makes him blush.

“Jesus.”

You kiss the crown of his head as you snicker.

“Go to sleep, handsome.” You run your hands along his back, tracing idle patterns against his skin, on his collarbones and shoulders.

“They’re from my autopsy,” he mumbles softly as he tucks himself against you. “From when I died…”

You hum, but don’t speak.

Afraid that maybe you’ll uncover the dread blooming in your gut.

You’ll ask later, is what you tell yourself as you watch Jason yawn, and promptly slip in a heavy, restful slumber.

(holy shit was this a doozy to write; I usually never write 2k words in less than 48 hours but I hope your enjoyed <3)

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uranusruby · 3 days ago

Note

Heyy I loved your Lando story:)

Can you maybe write one where his girlfriend is not famous and a little bit shy. They have been together for some time but are very private. So maybe during the video from Angry Ginge training like Lando Norris for a day she is also there and they are being super cute and she also does the exercises.

Of course if you don’t want to write it that’s totally fine:)

ＶＩＤＥＯＦＩＬＭＩＮＧ

ＬＡＮＤＯＮＯＲＲＩＳ

ＦＥＭ！ＲＥＡＤＥＲ

WORD COUNT: 2088

RÉSUMÉ: LIVING A PRIVATE RELATIONSHIP WITH LANDO, YOU WEREN'T EXPOSING YOURSELF MUCH TO PEOPLE. BUT WHEN LANDO FILMED A VIDEO FOR YOUTUBE, YOU DECIDE TO ACCEPT HIS REQUEST OF BEING PART OF THE VIDEO...

WARNING: NONE

AUTHOR'S NOTE: HI! THANKS FOR YOUR REQUEST, I LOVED WRITING IT. I TRIED TO PUT A BIT OF CUTE IN IT WITHOUT DOING TOO MUCH. I HOPE YOU'LL LIKE IT, ENJOY!

USEFUL LINKS: HOW TO REQUEST STORIES MASTERLIST C.AI MASTERLIST C.AI ACCOUNT

You've been dating Lando for a moment, and things were going pretty smoothly. Of course, things could be hard when he was going to other countries for his career, but other than that your relationship was great.

Despite his fame, you weren't that known by people, particularly by his fans. Although you weren't secret about your relationship, you weren't exposing it either. You weren't holding back to post pictures of the two of you together, instead just making your account private so people would try to find information about you. As for Lando, he wasn't posting many pictures of you with him. It was really rare, and he would always ask if you were okay with it. He wouldn't mind showing you sometimes, but he also knew it was making you uneasy.

That night, as you were at Lando's place, you were chilling together in his bed. Just cuddling together while scrolling on your phones, sometimes showing each other the stuff you're seeing that could make you laugh, or just that you found interesting. It was something you enjoyed doing to relax. Sometimes, it was just him playing on his PC, with you close to him while doing your stuff. You weren't always talking, the presence of each other being enough.

Eventually, Lando put his phone aside, correctly wrapping his arms around you. Feeling his change of position, you knew something was about to happen. So you stopped looking at your phone to look up at him. Lando pecked your lips at first, but you could see on his face that he was thinking about something.

"Okay, just tell me what you want to tell me," you said, putting your phone aside as well.

"You know… about tomorrow…" he started, his eyes trying to gauge your reaction. "The video… you thought about it and if you wanted to join?" he then continued, his tone a bit hesitant.

He talked to you about the video he was about to film with his friends, and since it was taking place in his place he had to see if you were okay with being in the video. If you were saying no, he'd have to film the video carefully so you wouldn't appear. Of course, it'd be easier if you were accepting since you'd just be part of the video, but once again he knew you enjoyed the discretion of this relationship.

"I thought about it, yeah," you first answered, nodding your head. "And I think… I wouldn't mind joining. I guess it could be fun… it's just a silly video, it won't hurt me?" you then added, a smile on your lips.

Lando smiled back at you, just nodding his head. He actually was really happy about it. Including you in the things he loved doing was always making him happy and excited. It meant spending moments with you, but also sharing his passions.

"Great! I can't wait!" he only said despite the actual excitement he now felt for this video.

A few kisses on the lips, you were still able to tell he was smiling, and then he took back his phone just like you so you couldn't continue whatever you were doing, while he was warning his friends you'd join them.

˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ✩ ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁ ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ✩ ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁ ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ✩ ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁ ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ✩ ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁ ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖

Waking up early on a day off wasn't the greatest thing in the whole world. You were supposed to just chill in front of the TV and enjoy your day off. But you were reassuring yourself by thinking about how it would be fun to participate in this concept. Plus, it was making Lando very happy so it was automatically making you happy.

You knew it would also be hard though. You saw Lando training before, and a Formula 1 driver training wasn't the easiest thing ever. It was always impressive to think Lando, as well as the other drivers of course, was doing such things. And today, it was your time to actually live what he was going through to do his job.

Okay, maybe you stayed a bit in bed before really getting up and getting ready. And maybe Lando had to poke you to make you move and not fall back asleep right after you opened your eyes.

"Come on… you'll be late…" he whispered to your ear, pecking your cheek before leaving the room.

A little whine, a roll on the bed and a foot tangled in the bedcover later, you were finally up and all dressed up. Even if you were happy to join the video, a part of you was stressed out. You weren't really extroverted and comfortable on cameras, let alone when thinking about it'll be posted on YouTube and watched by millions of people.

"Hey… it's gonna be okay…" Lando reassured you, obviously noticing how you were looking stressed out. "Don't forget: if you change your mind, just tell me about it and we'll find a way to edit you out," he added, pecking your forehead.

And somehow, his words and his kiss was partly reassuring you and calming you down, although a part of you was still apprehensive about it.

Eventually, it was time! The filming started when AngryGinge and Fifakill arrived. And while Lando opened the door, you were just standing there, not really knowing what you were supposed to do. It wasn't even really the fact his friends were there, you've talked to them before and, even if you didn't know them really well, you could still have a little discussion with them. It was just you realising it was real and you'd have to be entertaining somehow.

The awkward position lasted for a moment, while the three others were already having their funny moment. A smile was still noticeable on your lips, genuinely amused by the situation but just not daring to laugh like you normally would.

But at least things eventually moved to start each moment of the day by starting with breakfast. Standing beside Lando, slightly hidden from the camera, you were quietly enjoying the breakfast. It wasn't the first time you were sharing meals with Lando, so you weren't surprised.

"Do you like it?" Lando asked you with a smile, wanting to help you talking but also curious to know about your thoughts.

"Mh, it's good," you answered, your voice a bit low but still loud enough to be heard by everybody.

Lando smiled just a bit more, happy to hear you talk. A part of him was also a bit amused to see you eating like you were some food critic. They continued with talking and joking around, while you were slowly starting to get at ease in front of the camera.

"What time do you go to bed?" was the question asked by Fifakill after discussing Lando's sleeping habits.

"Depends," Lando answered seriously, initially wanting to give some information. The seriousness wasn't kept by AngryGinge after it was asked on what it depends.

"Who's got around, you dirty bastard," he said, gaining some laughs.

They shot glances at you as the answer made you stop moving for a second with the spoon in your mouth. Though the joke was funny, it made you embarrassed as the words were targeted at you. Lando kept a smile as he looked at you, gently poking your side.

The filming continued, with Lando explaining the programs before the training actually started. It obviously was the interesting part, and the part that made everybody curious. You were aware of the difficulty, but actually taking part would be different.

Starting with pushups, things were not that hard. It was funny to watch the others do it, and you were smiling a bit more than before though you were still not talking by yourself.

Continuing with a one minute plank, the three of you aligned, things were getting a tiny bit harder. Well, it was mostly tiring. Lando was on the side, watching if you were all doing the exercise correctly and correcting you if needed. He sat next to you, gently putting his hand on your lower back to lower you butt.

"Oh!" was the only thing he said as smiled, his hand slipping under you to press on your shirt to hide the things hiding there. "Shirt's a bit too large," he said, making you smile and disturbing you a little but you quickly focused again.

When the minute was finally reached, you immediately laid down and turned around on your back, your hands on your stomach. Lando looked down at you, his eyes soft though amused. As fun as it was to see his friends doing the exercises, he just loved seeing you do them even more. Well, he actually loved anything you were doing, anyway.

With more training passing by, you let out a little noise of apprehension that made them look at you with a smile at a certain exercise. You've seen Lando do that neck training before, and it got you wondering how human beings can do such a thing without problems.

Just by watching AngryGinge and Fifakill, you knew you'd struggle. You were already aware of the difficulty, but it was even more clear while watching them do the exercise. It then was your turn. You sat down, holding onto the edge of the weight bench. Lando then gently put the harness linked to the elastic band on your head.

"It's… it's folding my ears," you pointed out while Lando was about to start.

Lando came back to you to adjust it carefully, while you were looking in front of you. He checked everything was correct before stepping back.

"Ready?" he asked you, starting to pull when you were ready.

You closed your eyes while trying not to make your head, but it obviously was hard even though Lando wasn't putting much force into the pulling. You couldn't hold back your smiling through the probably weird faces you were doing when hearing them laugh.

Lando slowly stopped to make you change positions to pull from a different spot, and once again it was hard not to move.

"Shit…" you mumbled as you almost fell back from the hard pulling, making Lando snicker a bit louder.

When it was done, Lando took off the harness and put it aside on the weight bench. You turned around to face him, his hand going onto your shoulder.

"Are you okay?" he asked you gently, checking if it wasn't too much as he knew it was hard.

"Yeah, I've almost lost my head I think…" you answered while nodding your head.

"He doesn't ask us…" AngryGinge said while turning around, just teasing the bitch of you.

Lando chuckled as his hand went to your head, his fingers just running through your hair once. He held back the whole time since the filming started and it was destroying him inside, so this time he didn't hold back; he just quickly pecked your forehead. He wasn't sure it would make it to the final edit of the video, but he just had to do it.

Things continued, and with every second passing by, you were getting a bit less shy. You still wouldn't jump around and crack jokes, though. But it was good enough for a first time.

Later, it was time for the simulator. It probably was the funniest part. You've tried it once and it has been fun. And now, you were back at it. Lando was leaning against the chair, encouraging you and praising you with every single thing you were doing.

"It's okay, you're doing great," he said as you went over the track limits, keeping his voice soft. "Look at you go!" he continued in a cheerful tone as you were doing a pretty great time.

When you were done, you looked up at him while he was already looking down at you. He then grabbed your hand to help you get off the chair, his other hand resting on your waist in a gentle way. You surprisingly did good in the simulator.

At the end of the day, while you were back in bed, you were cuddling together. He held you in his arms, kissing your lips a few times.

"I had fun today…" you admitted, a smile on your lips.

"I saw that. And you did really good, I'm proud of you," he answered, his lips going once again on yours.

It has been a fun day, you've laughed and, despite your shyness, you weren't too much in the back or hiding. You definitely didn't regret accepting Lando's request.

˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ✩ ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁ ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ✩ ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁ ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ✩ ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁ ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ✩ ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁ ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖

Thanks for reading my story, I hope you enjoyed it! If you see any mistakes, please tell me in the comments!

#lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris x y/n #fem!reader #formula 1 #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 fanfic #f1 #f1 x reader

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ultimatebottom69 · 2 days ago

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Tbh her revenge against Luka...Doesn't work the way she wanted...He grew up in the cage. He is not like her or Till or many of the kids.

Luka is a fucking bio-creature. No parents. The only love, true love, he ever had. Be it platonic or more is purely up to interpretation (it's not, it's romantic, you blind people-) so...Per fucking definition. Luka is not a caged bird. He is a born caged bird. A domesticated, bred to be a cage bird ( he wasn't even bred)

And now put it in context but Hyuna's revenge is shallow. I mean ok. You died. Cool. Hum...You do realize you are in the stage where the ALNST final was played 2 minutes ago...So at least 200 aliens are watching...You killed the robots but they will absolutely send more. And your resistance guys can't shoot for shit...One of them killed you. The chief.

And since I know ALNST. Luka has no more values ina narrative purpose no matter how I spin it. So he gonna croak because i highly doubt that Mizi will die ever.

So he will not live to suffer...Well more. I mean i doubt his congenital heart will survive seeing his only coping mechanism fucking die. Let's not even talk about his asthma. Who i remind everyone...Activate when stressed. Oh and bad blood circulation so any hope of him being able to live with the rebellion to any capacity is scarce.

Anyway sorry for yapping on your great post. I just needed to share how much this decision makes so much sense because it is very human reaction and is in perfect alignement to the little character we were showed....

I love how ALNST portrays the coexistence of hate and love in the main relationships, just like those "Hatred is easier than a vague word such as love" photocards. And grief these characters have to go through and how they handle it because this series focuses on how people live on after they experience loss, in their own ways each of these standees represent that grief and the intricacies of their complicated relationships. All of my ships are divorced

I hope the mixed feelings Mizi has for Sua are elaborated on more in the future. Mizi had been almost, if not entirely, dependent on Sua in their time together. Sua was there to fill the gap of loneliness Shine left Mizi with after she was sent to Anakt garden alone. Sua taught her a lot and helped her study. Sua protected Mizi from the world and kept them safe in their bubble. She was someone who Mizi looked up to like her god; her faith in Sua and the love she had for her was like a religion. Sua was always there for her, and Mizi was happy to blindly follow her. And she left Mizi exposed and vulnerable like an abandoned fawn when suddenly, all of that was gone, and Sua was dead.

It would be interesting if it's confirmed that Mizi resented Sua after. In round 5, Luka's relentless taunting caused her to lash out, but Mizi wasn't angry at Luka; that anger, that despair, was her pouring out her feelings toward Sua because of Sua's death. After being taunted with the familiar comfort of Sua's presence, with the fact, that some of the happiness in Sua's smile could have been fake while she was unaware.

The thing is, Mizi and Sua had been the closest to each other for so long, but Mizi had little to no insight into who Sua really was or what she was really thinking. Other than some brief instances where she would perceive Sua, she knew Sua was a little quiet, probably a little gloomy, but didn't second guess her at all, knowing Sua wasn't mean to her. And she trusted in the fact that Sua didn't have bad intentions. Mizi could've never guessed that this would be the result, could never catch onto that emotional distance Sua had intentionally kept between them. When Mizi comes to an understanding that Sua knew what would happen all along. that's where the hurt stems from. Sua's actions, leaving Mizi in the dark and not being truly open, are a part of her coping mechanism/way of protecting herself. Sua wanted to shield Mizi so desperately, to shield her own heart from the fear of living aimlessly and in constant anxiety, that she had been content to die like this, to leave Mizi in this kind of disarray, even when she knew to some degree and was sad that her death could possibly subject Mizi to this kind of suffering, to having come to terms with those complicated feelings and it did crush Mizi as it all went down.

Mizi had the resilience to get back up and keep moving forward without Sua. As much as Mizi adored her, as much as she is making amazing progress in liberating herself from that past, who knows if she's moved from that yet, if she's forgiven Sua yet, the hurt from having been lied to for all that time. The betrayal of that trust Mizi had naively placed onto Sua, as if Mizi never even knew her in the first place. In some artworks, Sua is so distant from Mizi, even though they're always the most intimate, there is a clear disconnect as if Sua is a figment of Mizi's imagination, stagnant in the only way Mizi knew her, and she never changes. And Mizi suffers from the fact that she can't embrace that memory of Sua the way she used to. The standee similarly portrays this; Sua is simply hovering over her and watching in an eerie, enigmatic way. Yet Sua's presence is a comfort Mizi can't let go of even when it hurts that it isn't the same as it used to be. Even when the innocence of their bond is tainted by the understanding Mizi has now, she can't reject her. Mizi is nothing if not completely devoted to Sua, even to the end.

my ivantilll... my curevantill

Ivan and Till's push-pull, hate-love dynamic has been apparent even in childhood, and this standee says a lot about that dynamic, especially regarding round 6 obv. From Till's perspective, Ivan confused him, provoked him a lot, and fought with him a lot, but Ivan was also someone he considered a friend. Someone in his life that he cared about because despite their fighting they also shared quiet moments, Ivan was there for Till when it mattered (for comfort, even), where Till would've otherwise been alone, Ivan was always with him, those were memories Till would cherish even if he didn't show how much he cared to Ivan directly.

His despair going into round 6 wasn't just because of Mizi's disappearance, he hadn't expected he and Ivan would be in a position where they'd have to compete, and faced with the decision of having to either compete to win against his last friend, after losing all will to live, or to forfeit his own life, once he couldn't keep going anymore and stopped singing, Till had the intent to give up. Only for Ivan to make the final decision for him and forfeit his own life in such a brutal way right in front of Till. Even though there is little said about his perspective at the time as of now, To me, it seems like Till wanted to make that choice, but Ivan effectively yanked Till out of his own head to be bombarded with the confusing mix of gentleness and violence as the full force of Ivan's complicated feelings were thrown at him, and then to face the reality that Ivan is dead and he is alone.

Till has been oppressed by the aliens all his life, and he's always fighting them for the right to his agency and freedom. Till's anger comes from Ivan's selfishness in that moment -(How could you do that and just leave me behind? kind of sentiment), the way Ivan took away Till's choice in the situation, the one time he ever willingly withheld Till's freedom was because of an impulsive action that Till can't begin to understand, everything happened too fast, Ivan had no idea what he was doing either and was erratic with it. With that, the questions and the feelings Ivan left him to figure out on his own afterwards were too much for Till to confront after having averted his attention from them for the longest time, that's why the weight of Ivan's feelings, the reality of it all outside of Till's head, metaphorically and quite literally weigh on Till to the point of breaking him.

Ivan's affections and lesser acknowledged feelings for Till clash and often contradict himself. His hold on Till in the standee is gentle and not at all, all at the same time. It's so fascinating to me how it can look like Ivan is trying to be comforting in a very (Ivan-typical) pushy or forceful/hostile manner because he wants to show he cares, however, he has never been the best at expressing himself, and Till is sensitive, but far more prone to avoidance or biting back in response to confronting the vulnerability of his own emotions. Because of this, they misunderstood each other's intentions a lot in the past, and Till doesn't know what went on in Ivan's head when he did what he did, but that confusion scares Till. The way they're positioned with Ivan gripping Till so he's forced to face him and Till being frightened by what he sees, too angry and too shocked to properly express himself, they're two forces pushing and pulling at each other (almost like they're fighting, in my opinion. It's also a show of their complicated dynamic because of their fundamental misunderstanding of each other) Even Ivan's lack of expression to Till's reaction to him is interesting to me. Sure enough, he supports Till while he's collapsing and pushing back, but staring down on him in an odd way (much like that frame from blink gone with his face, it's intimidating and observant), Ivan was unconvinced his actions would impact Till. And now, he doesn't register Till's feelings in the moment. He's under the impression that Till can just "move on" after that, as if forcing Till to live on in his stead would really not shake him, as if all that time they used to spend together realistically could've possibly meant nothing to Till. This standee is so symbolic and just as confusing as them, and Till's waist is mesmerizing (gets shot)

HyuLuka's standee shows their dynamic so well; HyunA is avoidant and not facing Luka. Instead, she faces forward and looks past Luka the same way she does with everything that holds her back. To keep moving forward, she tried suppressing her emotions, avoiding confronting her past. She wants to move on. However, she's standing still and has a hand on Luka's head to silently comfort him (not even gripping his head, just resting her hand there) because, despite all of those years, after being forced to live on in her grief and her suffering, HyunA has grown, but she hadn't truly "moved on" from her past with Hyunwoo or Luka, until she met Mizi. Even though HyunA didn't want to face her past and those repressed emotions before, when she started coming to terms, she couldn't help but reach out like it's instinct, like she did when they were kids. because she can't help but still love and care for him, her revenge, albeit intentionally cruel, is also an example of this.

This also shows another instance of Luka's dependence on her; Luka clings to HyunA like a child, much like he always does. He doesn't acknowledge that HyunA has changed or how his actions could've affected her in childhood. Because he's utterly devoted to her and desperate for the comfort of knowing they are "together" always. Through what little scraps he can get to remind himself of her existence, like with those posters, and so he never grows out of his childish indifference as long as he can continue depending on her

HyunA's revenge is one effective torture method for Luka, because it's reiterated time and time again that she knows who luka is, she knows about all of this and took that comfort away from him in the most brutal way, so Luka can't deny it, because the truth is right in front of him. It's a big question of whether Luka can ever symbolically leave that "bird cage" and learn to live on his own without continuing to use HyunA as his coping mechanism. Depending on what Luka does with those final words she left him with, he can come to an understanding and agree to move forward or continue obsessively clinging to the only comfort he's known for years, just like he is in this standee

I also find it interesting how HyunA's role is set up in depictions like this (and I find that Hyuluka frame from sweet dream to be similar in a way), with the clear leverage she has over Luka, who doesn't care about the danger because he loves her so much more than he cares about himself, (Just like the way he does register the gun pressed to his head in wiege, but still moves towards HyunA) but she never does "kill" him even though she has the knife over his head (or in more symbolic ways, give in to the hatred she wants to feel for him) and she doesn't abandon Luka. Even though she has the choice to do both, she doesn't because she loves him. She can't stand to look at him smile at her cruelty, so she just stares at him with that vacant look that appears sometimes, like in All-in when she's experiencing ptsd and she can't even move until Mizi starts shooting at the robot guards, so she just absently stays. It really speaks to HyunA's nature. She's endlessly compassionate. She doesn't want to stop loving as a human because she can't stop loving.

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on-the-clear-blue · 9 hours ago

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Danny, staring up at Tim, who currently Robin: okay...so this isn't what it looks like.

Tim, giving dead pan glare: so you arnt breaking into Drake Manor?

Danny, shoulders dropping: okay yeah it's totally what it looks like...but not because you think!

Tim, sighing slightly: so you arnt homeless and thought that since Timothy Drake was recently adopted by Bruce Wanye, and both of his parents are dead you can just move in and live here?

Danny, blinking owlishly: I mean, yeah? I mean, not homeless, and I didn't even know that dude got adopted, like good for him, hope that he is safe and shiz, sucks that he parents died and all but not here to squat dude.

Tim, raising a single eyebrow: then why pray tell are you here?

Danny, kicking at the ground a bit: so like...ugh, so I might be um like...a...fudge what's the word...ah! Psychopomp? Like I am a dude that helps like people's ghosts pass and like keeps em happy.

Tim, squinting behind his mask: the only person that died here is Jack Drake and I assure you, his soul would not be happy going to where he deserves to be.

Danny, holding up his hands: wow lot of misplaced aggression there boy wonder...no I ain't here for him, like him and his wife did like...so much tomb raiding they would make the Victorians jelly. I am here cus they stole some dudes shit and he wants it back...like yesterday.

Tim, tilting his head: so you are here to steal an artifact.

Danny, popping the P sound: Yup, something about some guys clay tablet, he liked keeping his hate mail for some reason, said this one was about how he shorted some dudes iron? Or was it copper... my Mesopotamian isn't the best.

Tim, eyes widening, because he knows *exactly* which tablet he is talking about: Oh...yeah no bro, you seem chill but I really can't let you have that so why don't you just like...walk away and I won't be forced to do something kay?

Danny, frowning: Sames dude, up until that .y guy cus like...I *really* wasn't asking...

Tim, sighing as he extends his bo staff: Try and just like, not hold a grude yeah? Don't need a new villain...

Danny, pulling out an ecto gun and turning it on: I don't know man...I feel like we have good banter.

(They fight, Tim is still training so he is a bit sloppy, and Danny isn't shooting to kill, so it's more of them playing cat and mouse throughout Drake Manor, it ends with Danny stealing the tablet but having to leave the ecto gun, which gets broken when he escapes)

Tim, panting as he watches Danny flee: Fuck...is this what B feels after fighting Catwoman?

---

Bruce, rubbing his temples as Tim explains why he was late for training: You tried to apprehend an unknown, with a weapon of an unknown source and power...in the home of your secret identity?

Tim, looking properly chastised: God...yes that happened...he wasn't that bad honestly...was pretty witty.

Bruce developing a twitch in his eye: No.

Tim: No? No what.

Bruce, glaring hard at his adopted son: No falling in love with a villain.

Tim, looking scandalized now: Oh? What is this? Hypocrisy thy name is Bruce Wayne!

Bruce's glare turns into a batglare: Ten laps around the cave and fifty bo staff katas...no villains!

---

Danny becomes Tim's rogue, but not really, most of their battles are more each other showing off their new gear/moves they learned.

Danny also is only using tech that his parents made and he upgraded since he really doesn't want to go ghost in front of *Robin*, who is totally not his crush, and the only reason why he won't is because batman would 100% be on his ass.

Danny, pulling a massive creep stick with a nail driven through it out of seemingly nowhere: The new and approved Creep Stick! This time with nail to add tetnus damage!

Tim, watching as 'The Inventor' escapes once more: I hate seeing him leave but by God do I love watching him go...Damn should have turned on the camera just so I can see it again.

Barbara chiming in: Keep the main line PG Robin.

Batman, through coms: Hn...we shall be having words when we get back to the cave

Tim, sipping a soup that The Occultist made: "So like...why were you even here?

---

When the Titans tower incident occurs, Tim could only watch in awe as the Inventor, not only comes in from the ceiling with a literal metal chair, and then continues to beat up the guy with a bad Robin cosplay.

Danny, panting as he holds up the chair again: Back I say! Back! My blorbo!

Jason, seething as he actually hisses at this random teen that appeared out of nowhere, scurrying away while cradling his broken arm: You shall rue the day! Jason Todd was here bitches!

Tim, staring up at Danny, face a bloody mess and an adoring look in his eyes: omg he stalks me, this is must what the other guys felt when I did it!

They don't really start dating, it's much more Danny breaking into Tim's house and just not leaving.

Tim, watching as his "arch enemy" is sprawled across his couch, bucket of ice cream in one hand, spoon in another, phone balanced between his ear and shoulder, pants and socks tossed haphazardly across the living room and just chilling in his boxers: Now wait a damn minute.

Danny, pausing while looking up from his ice cream (which is actually Tim's, since the boy is rich and buys the good shit), pointing his spoon accusatorily at Tim: Your fucking late Mister! Drag race started half an hour ago and we agreed to watch it together!

Tim, blushing under the Robin mask: Sorry case got good and- wait wait wait, when did we agree to watch drag race together?

Danny, rolling his eyes: when I made breakfast this morning? I even gave you extra strong coffee for your solem swearing that you would be here.

Tim, thinking back to earlier: I just...remember a bright white orb giving me a mug and a plate of food...

Danny, scoffing: this is why I need to drug you to get to sleep more often. Now take off your gear and get over here, they about to choose who shall sashay away!

Tim, nodding slowly: Hope it is that one queen from last episode, that lio sink didn't have any- wait! Ugh you keep distracting me! When did you fucking move in? I don't even know your name!

Danny with a spoon just an inch away from his mouth: Jazz? Yeah I uhh...I gotta call you back...(clicks hang up on his phone) Your joking right? For the shits and gigs?

Tim, shaking his head slowly: No shits, not a single gig my dude, 100% honest.

Danny, who had just arrived this morning since his parents are renovating because Fenton HQ is a glaring OSHA violation, but also who's middle names are "commit to the bit" and "Gaslight GateKeep Girl boss" : Babe we have been dating for like, *months*...d-do ou really not remember?

Tim, existential crisis made manifest: Oh no...I have been mind wiped.

Danny, astounded that worked: Baby I am so sorry...

They "date" for like a week before Danny starts feeling bad that he tricked Tim (who he finally got to see maskless, he had to stop his heart to not show any outward reaction to that, cus like hell he is cute) and wants to come clean but he honestly never had seen Tim more happy nor more healthy.

Danny, sitting across Bruce at the Manor: S-So um...like yeah we um...met at a science convention? My um...my parents were show casing stuff and like...we met there?

Bruce, eyes narrowing because that sounded like a lie: Hn.

Dick, happy that Tim finally felt comfortable to bring his "boyfriend" to dinner: B stop glaring! Your going to scare off Timmy's Bf! God you weren't this bad when I brought over Roy that one time.

Bruce doesn't stop glaring, and it's making Danny even more nervous: Um I uh...need to use the bathroom one sec...

Tim moves to guide him but Alfred waves him to sit down: You really must eat Master Timothy, I did make your favorite today. I shall guide Mister Fenton to the lavatory.

Alfred does indeed lead Danny from the dining room, but the second they are far enough the old butler suddenly has a shotgun in hand, skin suddenly a pale blue and objects around the parlor turning green and floating: While they do try and see the best in others, I do not Phantom, now I must ask you to kindly leave and never contact Master Timothy every again. I shall not let my charge fall for such as the likes of you.

Danny blinking at how he was addressed, a sudden ghostly blue mist escaping his mouth: Oh shit.

They have a ghost fight, all while comically popping in and out of the dining room, making excuses for whyvthe other is gone.

It ends when Tim, finally fed up with why his boyfriend is taking so long opens the door only to see him duking it out with Alfred, fully gone ghost and was loosing.

Such leads to confessions of lies, real feeling and why Alfred has been able to be a spry 60 even though he fought in WWI and it is very much the mid 2010s.

(Danny and Tim do end up together, this time with no lies about a mind wipe, and get Kon and Bart to join their polycule later on)

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aangelinakii · 1 day ago

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COOKING WITH THE JUSTICE LEAGUE.

characters written about in this piece : bruce wayne, clark kent, diana prince, barry allen, hal jordan

note : omgomg this idea is so frraking cute 😭😭 and sorry some are longer than others !!! <3

requested !

BRUCE WAYNE.

it's not that bruce can't bake, because he can, but the whole "baking" thing doesn't really fit the agenda he's going for 💀 so it would take a lot of convincing to get bruce to try make some meringues, or even cupcakes. but after living with alfred for the majority of his life, he's definitely learned how to cook.

i mean, he's still a guy with a butler, so it's not like he does everything or knows how to make everything. if you want to make something he's never made before, he'll definitely let you take the lead, and something inside him will be a little nervous about messing anything up, so even if you ask him to stir something he'll keep asking if he's doing everything right

but when it comes to dishes he does know how to make bruce will want you to sit back and watch, and periodically taste test his food to "make sure it's not poisonous." he loves cooking for you, but i can see him feeling a bit out of place when it becomes a duo task — he doesn't want to mess anything up, and part of him feels a bit like that young bruce again, in the early years after his parents' deaths, sitting on the counter whilst alfred cooks them dinner.

CLARK KENT.

clark absolutely looooveeeesss cooking, i'd say it's definitely a love language of his, making food for the people he loves. he's probably learnt it from ma kent, cooking for people. clark definitely has a long list of recipes stored up there, and probably has a separate tab on his phone for recipes he thought were interesting

differently to bruce, i think clark may have a talent for baking specifically, as opposed to cooking proper dinner meals. if you cook a meal together i could see you focusing on the dinner, and clark preparing dessert, which he can put in the oven whilst you're eating. and yes, even on a normal evening (usually a friday night or weekend) he insists on having a dessert. even if what you've made is some instant ramen or ten-minute rice dish, clark is up at the counter stewing some blueberries and apple slices for a crumble

DIANA PRINCE.

diana has so many handed-down recipes that she would love to share,, and on days where she hasn't got anything going on she loves spending the entire day making huge servings of greek dishes that you can keep in the fridge and eat every night for a month. she's not one to hog the counter or the oven, she wants to teach you everything she knows !!!

and she's super super open to learning your recipes, or being your little guinea pig if you want to experiment with recipes, like hello she's amazonian she could survive anything !! but if you're in the kitchen, she'll ask if there's anything she can do to help you out and even if you say no she'll find something to do, like fill up a glass of water so you don't get too dehydrated whilst making her some amazing food.

BARRY ALLEN.

love love loves sharing the kitchen with you, and he loves cooking for you just as much as you love cooking for him. i even made a whole fic about it (shameless promo) where you alternate dinner making duties round each other's apartment each week

he thinks you're amazing really,, even if you cook something that tastes a little bit.. you know.. barry will still gobble it down because you ?? thought of him ?? and wanted to make him food ?? probably has food as a love language, but in a different way to clark,, the way clark sees it, making food is how he expressed love, but barry feels like eating someone's food that way made for him is a way of showing love ? do you know what i mean ?

obviously he loves cooking for and with you, but yeah he really appreciates you cooking for him more

HAL JORDAN.

definitely takes charge in the kitchen, but will give you jobs here and there. it could be tasting, it could be mixing spices into a sauce, it could be stirring. i think he prefers the creative aspect to cooking, so if he's got a recipe in mind be prepared to get a little bossed around. he likes adding seasoning and making little sauces. sometimes if you're lounging around at home he'll spring out of nowhere with a snack for you to eat, "something he's working on" and it always tastes buss

might get a little nervy if you want to take charge, but that's just a him issue, and he'll calm down once you get the food sitting right in front of him and it tastes just as good as it smells (and also as long as the fire alarm hasn't gone off once !!!!)

#aangelinakii #dc #dc comics #dc imagines #dc reactions #dc headcanons #dc universe #justice league #justice league unlimited #bruce wayne #batman #bruce wayne x reader #clark kent #superman #clark kent x reader #justice league headcanons #diana prince #wonder woman #diana prince x reader

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thebluediner · 3 days ago

Text

ALL ON PURPOSE ( SHE LIKES IT )

warning: cheating

a faint unexpected knock on your door was heard and after a few thoughts on who it probably is and a couple of seconds you approached thinking it's your boyfriend.

it wasn't ,instead your eyes locked onto her blue pair standing there with a look of mischief. you heart dropped at first as you registered her presence and the smug grin on her face. billie being her didn't waste a second and immediately attacked your lips with her own pushing you into the house and somehow closing the door with her other hand.

both her hands softly landed on your cheeks with a cheeky giggle cupping them giving her an opportunity to devour you. you were caught of guard not realising what's happening blinded by her lips on yours and how good it felt. your senses hyperfocused on everything about her. the way her body pressed up on you, the way she'd purr into the kiss you could even smell her perfume.

it all distracted you from reality but then it hitted you he'd be here in a couple of minutes. you tried to push her away not really winning but when she whined you swear your knees got weak. billie had a way of making you question yourself on why you couldn't just break up with your boyfriend.

he wasnt really feeling you and after meeting billie you weren't showing much interest either. you were just two people coexisting in a relationship with no future plans. but still you couldn't let him see you and her like this so with an effort you managed to break the kiss.

billie broke away gasping for breath after loosing herself in the passionate kiss. "billie you can't be here" you tried to acti upon reason but she pulled your waist closer to her body pressing yours against hers before she went in for your neck planting open kisses not listening to what you have to say.

a moan slipped from you not being able to slip away from her hold before he could be able make his way up. "billie he'll be here in a second" you tried again. now she backed away but not fully though.her hands were still snaked around your waist keeping you close to her

" tell me to stop y/n" billie challenged you. her eyes fierce but flirty in a way locked in on yours. your grip on her clothes tightened knowing you couldn't do that and she knew it that's what she loved about this.

" tell me you don't want me baby mmh" she says all this while her lips make its way back to your neck making you gasp and groan trying to restrain your moans.

"tell me to leave princess and I will " fuck you couldn't do all those. but that's when you heard incoming steps . you knew it was him you've memorised them by now so the moment he reached the door billie was on the couch with the remote on her hand and you ? by the sink grabbing a cup of water to lessen your nerves.

"hey man what's up " billie greeted him like absolutely nothing was going on and right after her eyes scoped you out sending a wink your way. she enjoyed this in some sick twisted way but she looked hot doing it.

a/n: I don't support cheating y'all don't hate me for this

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zepskies · 14 hours ago

Text

Aw thank you so so much, Wayne! 🥹 Despite the whirlwind romance and the "romantic" time period, I tried to keep the situation and how it resolved feel realistic as possible. Thanks for sticking with me on this magical angsty ride. 😂💖💖

(Aw love the forehead kiss!)

And oh boy, my heart was beating fast in my chest when Michael stormed her hotel room, and Sam and Dean weren't there yet. I was glad his anger simmered down a little, but of course, seeing her with Dean then later turned the heat right up again 🙈

Oh God I don't blame you! 😬 There were a lot of directions that scene could've gone, but I liked being able to bring Sam and Dean in to back her up and protect her in different ways here. And yeeep Michael started to catch on there. 😅

The fact Dolores was Jo blew my mind! 🤯 Up until that point, I had made an OC for her in my head lmao

Originally she was going to be just an OC, but I thought it would be a fun twist, since Jo is blonde and blue-eyed just like Doris Day (the singer I based the character persona on)! 😝

But man, Dean storming in all heroic had my knees weak, girl 😍😍 Such a pissing contest, and I'm loving it lol

Ahh it's a terribly cliché case of White Knight syndrome here, but I can't help that it makes me weak too, more than anything! 😭😭💕

Oh yeah, Sam was just as important as Dean here for the reader tbh. Without him, Michael would've kept pushing his luck.

And for a moment, everyone was happy then, right? But damn if my heart didn't drop during this scene: You had me so worried!! I was afraid we'd end up in, I don't know, 1968? And they're both married with kids to other people... But I was real glad it was only a few months. Seriously, thank fucking God, you didn't rip my heart out. Phew... 😆

Aw man, I'm so sorry to do this to you! 😂😂 But omg while that would've been an incredibly angsty ending, you know me, I can't do that to you guys or myself! 🤣💗💗

I totally understand why Dean left, though. It wasn't the right time for them, and she needed to deal with her divorce first and Dean with his... demons lol, and that's why I loved this so much! Because it wasn't clean-cut, and Michael wasn't giving up so easily, and she still struggled with her feelings, and all of it made sense and kept it realistic. Truly loved that! 🥹🫶

Exactly, thank you for totally getting where I was going with this! They just weren't ready for reach other yet, no matter how much they wanted to be with each other. She needed to learn how to stand on her own two feet again (and be officially divorced), and Dean had things to take care of on his end while he waited for that divorce clock to run out lmao.

Michael also wasn't that quick to let go either -- but eventually she was able to cut him loose! While this story was based on a movie, I tried to make sure it didn't have "movie logic" if that makes sense. 😆💖

And I knew from the start when I read the chapter title that the "dried ink" would both refer to her divorce papers and a new marriage certificate 😂💕

Ahhh you caught me!! Double meaningssss!

That broke me... The reassurance he gives her? Gah 💀

Aww thank you for highlighting perhaps my favorite Dean line of the whole chapter! 🥹💗💗

I also died that she got married so quickly again for a second time! I'd understand her parents' concern lol. Luckily, she met Dean the second time around, or this is the kind of hopeless romanticism that becomes dangerous fast 😂

Right?? lmao My excuse for that was that life moved fast back then, and these two already knew they wanted to be together. 😂😂 But omg yeah, thank God she fell for a truly good man like Dean and not some other "Michael." 😅

This was such a smart idea of him, and I loved that he wanted her to be closer to her family! 😍 Surely also scoring brownie points with the in-laws lol

Yess bringing things full circle back to their conversation under the stars in Part 3! lol oh yeah, hopefully that goes a long way with them. 😂 And it shows how Dean considers her, vs. Michael who brought her to NY to service himself and his assimilation back into society.

Oooof, and that was such a perfect way to end it, too 😮‍💨 Like I said, I hope they truly live happily ever after with a bunch of kids running around the yard, Dean grilling, and her baking apple pie. They deserve it 🥹❤️ Such a fantastic journey, friend!!! ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Aww thank you so much, my friend!! I definitely have that HC, and I'm actually thinking of writing a little one-shot for these two (hopefully) soon. 🥰 I'm so happy thank you enjoyed the journey of this story! 💖💖💖

BETWEEN THE CITY & THE STARS - Part 5

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: In the fall of 1945, Dean is having a difficult time assimilating back into civilian life after the War. He’s visiting his brother Sam in New York City, where he’s beginning to build up his law firm. At two minutes to closing time, you interrupt their evening to solicit a solicitor. Your request? You need help in order to divorce your husband.

AN: Ready for an angsty-fun filled finale? 😘💖

Jacklesverse Bingo24 Prompt: Historical Epic

Song Inspo: “The Very Thought of You” by Tony Bennett

Word Count: 6.6K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only. Angst, tense situations, protective Dean, hurt/comfort, fluff, and spice.~

✨ Series Masterlist

🎵 YouTube Playlist || Spotify Playlist

Part 5: Dried Ink

Dean slammed the payphone back on the hook in frustration. He’d tried calling twice from the train station and couldn’t get you at home. It was getting late in the evening and he knew you were off work already. Where the hell did you go?

“She could’ve packed up and left him already,” Sam said. “I gave her the number of a decent hotel I know over in the Village.”

Dean reluctantly stepped aside for the next person waiting to use the phone. The sound of his train clicking by fast on the tracks echoed in the station. A gust of wind shoved at the brothers' backs, ruffling their long coats, as well as Sam's hair.

“You think she did it that quick?” Dean asked.

“One way to find out,” Sam said. “Come on. I’ve got my car waiting.”

It was so very strange to watch the bellman bring your suitcases inside your new room. You’d only ever stayed in a hotel once, for your honeymoon in Philadelphia. Michael took you to the Walnut Street Theater there, and among other things, to see the Liberty Bell. It had reminded both of you about the true cost of freedom.

You let that thought slip away from you with a shake of your head as you started unpacking, hesitantly at first. It almost didn’t feel real.

Fortunately, after sampling from a bottle of scotch you’d found under Michael’s side of the bed (and slipped into your suitcase), you began to settle into the idea. You took a break from hanging up your dresses in the closet to peer out the window to the narrow, busy streets below the fifth floor. Everything looked so small down there, so far away. In time, maybe the heaviness in your heart would feel that far away too.

Except the loud, insistent knock on the door broke you out of your thoughts. Straightening up with a frown, you set down your glass and went over to the door. It could be Housekeeping coming up to bring you the fresh towels you asked for. The ones that had been laid out in the bathroom smelled musty.

You opened the door to a tall frame taking up room in the doorway. It was Michael, standing there disheveled and steaming mad. He held your letter crumpled in his left hand.

“Michael, what—what’re you doing here?” you gasped and stepped back. He followed you inside the room and slammed it shut. He looked around at your open suitcases in disbelief, then finally at you.

“What’s this supposed to mean, huh?” he demanded to know. He shook the flimsy piece of paper at you. “I come home with flowers, two tickets to see a show, ready to take my wife out to dinner, only to find the apartment half empty. Not to mention a letter that…frankly, cut me to down to the core.”

His anger lessened then, turning into dismay; the kind that you never would have expected to see in his eyes. Not after how he’d been acting for the past few months. He came closer and grabbed hold of you by the shoulders. When you tensed and expelled a shaky breath, he blinked in surprise.

“Darling, are you…you scared of me or something?” he asked incredulously. “I know I’ve been working late, not coming home when I say I will sometimes, but have I ever raised a hand to you? Not even once, right?”

You drew enough courage to meet his eyes, so blue, for once so earnest. It made you sick. Because the man he was when he was sober was more like the one you married. Only, you felt the true version of him was more akin to a sleeping dragon, lying in wait to be provoked.

“Neither of us have to lie anymore and pretend this is a marriage. At least, not one worth saving,” you said. “I know, Michael. I know about Dolores…or should I say, Joanna.”

Michael paused. His head cocked as disbelief crossed his features. He stared down at you almost without blinking.

“Did you know her real name was Joanna Johnson?” you asked. “Ring any bells with Brady Johnson, the man you’ve been paying to keep her company?”

Michael frowned. “He’s her brother. He pays her bills—”

“No,” you shook your head. “Look in the folder sitting on the coffee table there.”

You gestured over to it with a nod of your head. Michael was drawn to the path of your gaze. When his morbid curiosity was too much, he finally let go of you to investigate the folder in question. You released a subtle sigh of relief. You began drifting over behind the couch and closer to the landline phone. It rested on a nearby accent table.

Meanwhile, Michael sorted through the contents of the folder and all the information Sam had gathered for you. He’d made copies of all the evidence for your personal records, including the photos he took of Michael and Dolores.

“Her maiden name is Joanna Beth Harvell,” you revealed. “Brady Johnson isn’t her brother, Michael. You’ve been paying to sleep with another man’s wife.”

No one short of Clark Gable could fake the jolt of shock that crossed Michael’s face. You saw the truth of it in his eyes when he glanced up at you.

“I don’t know why it should bother you, seeing as you don’t seem to care much about wedding vows,” you couldn’t help but snark. You were no longer all that sad though. Somehow, that pitiful look on his face made you feel sorry for him.

Michael seemed to have swallowed his tongue. For a while, he couldn’t dislodge it from the roof of his mouth to speak. But when he did, it wasn’t with anything good to say.

“How did you get all this?” he asked.

Your spine stiffened. “It doesn’t matter. It’s over, Michael. I can’t do this anymore. You should be getting the divorce papers served to you by the morning—”

Your words were cut off when he rounded the corner of the couch, grabbing you by the arms again. This time, his grip was much firmer and made you gasp.

“What the hell is going on? Have you been spying on me?!” he raised his voice to new heights, shaking you once by your shoulders. “How long have you been planning to leave me?”

The words became choked in your throat along with your fear—one that paralyzed you, and made you feel sick with yourself, small and weak.

The door bursting open again startled you both, but it was Michael who grunted when he was heaved off of you by his shirt and waistcoat.

You stumbled and braced yourself against the back of the couch, but your widened eyes fell on the one man you never thought you’d see again.

“Dean,” you breathed.

He spared you a look of concern through his anger, but Michael soon commanded his attention by trying to break his hold. Dean reeled back his arm and delivered a solid punch that knocked the other man into the wall. Michael leaned heavily against it to keep himself upright, and he had to blink a few spots out of his eyes, not only grimacing at the ache in his cheek. That one blow had rattled through his skull, disturbing old injuries. He glared over at Dean.

“Who the hell are you?” Michael shouted. His shock only increased when he noticed Sam Winchester shutting the hotel room door behind him. “What’re you doing here?”

“I’m her lawyer, Mr. Milligan, and you’re hereby served,” Sam said.

He strode forward with a packet of papers. Michael took a purposeful step towards him, but Dean shoved Michael back against the wall. It allowed Sam to place the packet in Michael’s disbelieving hand.

Dean went over to you then, giving you a meaningful once-over as you held yourself. He softened when he saw the tears in your eyes.

“You all right?” he said quietly, laying a hand on the small of your back. You still couldn’t quite speak, but you nodded at him gratefully, tucking a wily strand of hair behind your ear.

Michael took notice of it once he peeled his eyes from the divorce papers, and up at you and Dean. Michael’s lips pursed as his posture became even more tense and irate.

“I’m not signing this,” he said, tossing the folder onto the coffee table beside the evidence of his infidelity. He met your wary gaze. “Look, I’m not saying I’ve been a perfect husband, but you’re my wife. That still means something to me. We can…we can still work this out.”

Against your will, hot tears burned in your eyes, and your mouth trembled. The men watched you closely.

You shook your head.

“No. We can’t,” you said. “You’re not the man I thought I married.”

In those blue eyes, you thought you saw the shine of a breaking heart. But all too quickly, it turned into anger and denial. Michael meant to cross the narrow distance between you with a threat on his mind and tight coiling of his entire frame. Dean’s hand slid from your back as he stepped in between, fisting a hand in the other man’s dress shirt and pressing there hard.

“You take your hands off me before I tear you apart,” Michael hissed.

Dean’s face was full of cold fire, with a threat thinly veiled underneath. “Lay another hand on her, and I’ll break every bone you got left.”

“Dean,” you gasped, reaching out for him. His backward glance at you warned you to stay where you were.

Michael became even more incensed. Again, he was noticing the familiarity between you and this man invading his space, threatening him, and standing between him and his wife. Before he could open his mouth to protest, Sam finally spoke up again.

“If you don’t take that file and leave now, peacefully, then this isn’t the only one of your affairs that’s going to come to light,” Sam said.

Michael hesitated. He glanced over at Sam with an angry raise of his brow.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I think you know very well what it means,” Sam replied. He picked up the folder of evidence he gave you and slipped out a few documents that highlighted an audit of Milligan Meats.

“How does a family business stay so incredibly lucrative during one of the worst times for meat production since the Depression?” Sam wondered aloud. “Maybe it has something to do with those connections you made in Philadelphia, greasing hands like Vondich, from Pittsburg. Or accepting kickbacks from the Torelli family to stock their restaurants with higher quality beef. Who knew that your father had deep, shall we say intimate ties, to one of the biggest mafia families in New York City?”

Once Sam showed the numbers and records, written in Michael’s own painstaking hand, your husband’s face went ashen.

“How did you get this?” he said. Then, as it dawned on him, he looked over at you in betrayal. You hadn’t known about the Torellis, but Sam had been able to sort the last five years of audits for himself, thanks to your investigation of Michael’s office.

“I did my own digging, Mr. Milligan,” Sam said, earning back his attention. “Your wife’s only part in this was asking for my help in securing her divorce. As you can see, I’m very thorough. And these aren’t my only copies of this information. I’m fully prepared to take it to the authorities, today.”

His lie was to protect you, just as much as Dean physically putting himself between you and Michael was. You didn’t know if Michael entirely bought the lie, but eventually, his shoulders sagged in defeat.

He grabbed the papers from Sam’s hand, pivoted on his heel, and turned to leave. However, Michael stopped at the doorway to look back at you.

“This is really what you want?” he asked.

You nodded. “You know it is.”

With that confirmation, Michael took his heavy heart with him when he left.

Sam and Dean helped you repack your things. Neither of them trusted Michael to leave you alone now that he knew where you were. You didn’t want to make such a fuss, but they insisted on helping to put you up at a different hotel across town.

Sam took half of your belongings in his car, where he also had Dean’s one and only suitcase. Dean loaded the rest of your luggage in a taxicab and sat beside you, mostly staring out the window while he smoked. During the ride, you couldn’t help but glance at him every so often. You noted his profile, handsome as always, except now you couldn’t quite tell what he was thinking.

“Dean,” you said quietly. It earned you his attention, as his eyes roamed over you from your familiar beige jacket to your favorite burgundy lipstick.

“You okay?” he asked.

“I am,” you nodded, giving him a small smile. “Thank you.”

You tried to convey deeper things with your words, and you thought Dean read your meaning. He hesitated for a moment, but he took up your hand and pressed a kiss to your fingers.

“Sam’s gonna keep watching out for you, okay? You don’t have to worry about anything,” he said.

Your smile fell. “You’re still going back to Kansas?”

Dean held your gaze for a long moment, and let out a breath through his nose.

“Nothing’s changed, sweetheart. I’m still a man with a lot to make of himself, and you’re still a married woman, even without the ring,” he said, gesturing to your left hand held in his. “It’s not the right time for us…and I’m not asking you to wait for me to get my act together. It’s not fair to you.”

You were quiet for a while. The cab’s tires continued rolling over bits of gravel in the street, the honking horns and other pocketed sounds of the city falling into a background symphony. You glanced up at Dean, meeting his eyes once more.

“I don’t regret anything,” you told him, squeezing his hand. “I could never.”

The corner of his lips quirked upwards. “Me either, baby. Not for all the world.”

He held your hand until the taxi stopped in front of the hotel. Dean leaned over to open the door. He helped you out of the car, but there, he let you go.

You supposed you’d have to be strong enough to walk alone this time.

March 1946

Four months later, it was official.

Oh, Michael sure made it difficult. Sam did make a point to keep an eye on you though. He even hired a client and friend, Benny Lafitte, to accompany you to and from work every day. The burly man was an intimidating presence, but he was kind and respectful. He made you feel safer, especially in the evenings when he kept watch of your apartment for a while, sat out front in his car.

Michael was tenacious. He likely used his connections through town, however nefarious they might be, to find out where you were staying again. He continued to show up outside your hotel room.

Nonetheless, when he sat up against your door all night and realized that you wouldn’t budge, the anger finally drained out of Michael. The exhaustion and guilt set in, perhaps not for the first time.

Then, he drunkenly apologized through the closed door, not knowing you were leaning in on the other side of it. It wasn’t the kind of apology that meant anything, you thought, but the kind that meant to let him save face in your eyes, to persuade you into softening.

You didn’t soften, even though he tried everything to get you to reconsider. He tried gentle words and grandiose gestures, even so far as getting down on his knees outside the door and begging—something you’d never seen him do, not once. Part of you wanted to open the door just an inch if it allowed you to see that sight.

Your tears came, but not because your heart was easing up to him. Your heart was breaking again, knowing this was the end.

He tried reminding you of how difficult it would be for you afterwards, how it might affect your family, your job, everyone’s perception of you. More importantly to him, it would affect how people saw him, a man divorced after barely a year.

Somehow, you found the strength to speak to him slowly from inside the door.

“It’s already done, Michael. And so am I,” you said. “After I saw you and Dolores together with my own eyes, I…I was intimate with another man. I didn’t do it to hurt you, but I still did it.”

His silence was deafening. Not being able to see him actually made this easier though. You sighed.

“I’m sorry, but I just can’t go back to us,” you said, “because that would be a lie.”

You couldn’t see it, but his face tightened as angry tears filled his eyes. He felt the weight of his decisions like never before, along with a pulsing, phantom pain in his skull that alcohol could no longer dull. Dimly, he remembered the man he used to be, before. He remembered having a shred of honor to his name, even before he married you. And he did that because he’d loved you. He was sure that he had, somehow…

“I am sorry, darling,” he croaked. “You have to know…”

You nodded, taking a breath to try and steady yourself.

“I know,” you realized. As much as he was able to be, he was sorry.

He picked himself up from outside your door and walked away. He never returned after that.

In those four months, you resolved to move back to Sioux Falls. New York had become your home in the past year and a half you’d lived here, but it wasn’t who you were. You wanted a quieter life. A more peaceful life.

You initially agreed to move to the city with Michael because you had wanted to please him, and make his transition back to civilian life easier in his familiar surroundings. You thought the two of you were building a life together.

New York City was still a heartbeat of a world, but it was no longer in your heart.

Now, you were finishing up on packing your things at the hotel. You left for South Dakota tomorrow, and you already sent your last payment to Sam Winchester a few days ago, along with a handwritten letter thanking him for his help. You felt badly for not going to visit his office in person, but it would be too hard. You would be too tempted to ask about his brother.

Dean.

Just the thought of his name made your heart constrict. You weren’t sure if it was only with pain, though you hoped he was doing well. You tried to remember that you had known him for barely a week. Your mind and your heart shouldn't be so taken up with him.

And yet.

He had seen you at your lowest, belly-to-the-ground low. He had brushed away your tears and hadn’t tried to flatter you with pretty words. He’d made you feel better with simple, raw honesty.

He gave you a window into his past, even though a soldier like him wouldn’t easily pry himself open for anyone, short of his own brother, you suspected. So you’d come to realize, whenever the memory of him greeted you after that day in the park, that he’d given you something special. Perhaps the best night of your life.

Your fingers paused on the brass doorknob to what had been your bedroom for the past few months. It was a modest one, complete with a kitchen and a small two-seater sofa.

Hotels were expensive, but your parents had been kind enough to send you some money to help you. They’d been dismayed to learn of the reasons behind your divorce, of course. They both had been against it at first, but when they heard your voice over the phone, along with the full story, they finally agreed to support you in what way they could, especially by welcoming you back home.

You were looking forward to seeing them. It had only been a couple of months since they’d come to the city for Christmas, but you were ready to go home to some familiarity, and to your family’s support.

You shook your head to get yourself unstuck from all of that. You straightened the wrinkles out of your long skirt and adjusted the collar of your blouse. You had just come home from your last day of work not too long ago, so you supposed you would take a bath and get changed into something more comfortable before you finished packing. Your train left tomorrow, early in the morning.

You were about to head into the bathroom when you heard a knock at the door. Frowning, you wondered who it could be. If it was Michael again, you were not opening the door, and you’d call the police for good measure if he stuck around. You were done entertaining him in every sense of the word.

You went to the door and looked into the peephole. Your brows furrowed. You unlatched all three locks on the door and opened it to the room service maid.

“Hi, Bridget, how are you?” you greeted her.

“Oh, I’m doing well, ma’am. Sorry, I’m a bit behind today, but I’m here to clean the room.”

“Oh, well, now isn’t really a good time,” you said. You had duffel bags and suitcases open, with your clothes, a curling iron, and other things thrown about. Not to mention, you had a leftover sandwich sitting half-eaten on the dining table with a nearly empty bag of chips.

“I’m afraid I can’t come back later,” said Bridget. She tended to talk with her hands, made more interesting by the fact that she held a broom with one hand, and pulled her cleaning cart with the other. “It’ll be too late, and then you’ll be asleep!”

“Look, I’ll just clean tonight, and you can come back tomorrow after I leave. How does that sound?” you suggested.

“All right, if that’s how you want it,” Bridget said with a shrug. She threw her broom on the cart and started pushing it down the hall. She still called back to you over her shoulder, “Goodnight, ma’am! Safe travels for your trip home.”

You shook your head with a weary smile. “Thank you. Goodnight!”

You closed the door behind you and reset all the locks in place. Releasing a heavy sigh, you supposed you should get back to packing. You turned to do just that, when there came another knock on the door. This time it was a heavier sound.

“For God’s sake. What is it now?” you groused.

You went back to look into the peephole. This time, your mouth fell open in a gasp. You undid all the locks again with shaking hands, and you opened the door. There stood Dean Winchester.

He looked nice. Dapper really, wearing a dark blue suit and tie over a crisp white shirt and blue waistcoat underneath. His hair was combed and gelled and parted to the right, and he smelled faintly of a woodsy cologne.

He also looked just as stricken to see you. His eyes were as green as you remembered, and they took in your form from head to toe. They returned to your face, softening slightly, and he smiled.

“Hey, sweetheart.”

God, his voice. It threatened to make you weak.

You shook your head and managed to smile back at him. “What’re you doing here?”

He chuckled. “Well, that’s some welcome.”

“You know what I mean.” You reached out for him, and he took your hand, raising the back of it to his lips in a kiss. All the while, his eyes never left you. Your face flushed hotly, your heartbeat leaping in and out of rhythm.

“I’m here to see you,” he said, matter of factly. As if it were the simplest thing in the world.

Your mouth ran dry. It was difficult to form words, but somehow you managed it.

“Would…would you like to come in then?” you offered.

“I’d like nothing more,” he replied.

The depths in his words made a tingle run down your spine, though you tried to hide your reaction to it. You let him in and shut the door behind you both.

“So you’re headed home, huh?” he asked. He was sitting next to you on the couch with a soda you procured for him, and a cigarette in hand, yet to be lit.

“Did Sam tell you?” you asked.

Dean nodded, smiling ruefully. “I hear congratulations are in order.”

You ducked your head, a bit embarrassed. He tossed his unlit cigarette on the coffee table and tucked a finger under your chin. He raised your head until you met his eyes.

“There she is,” he said softly.

You sucked in a breath laden with emotion. Tears welled up in your eyes.

“Why are you here, Dean?”

“I think you know,” he said, his thumb brushing your cheek.

“I think you need to say it,” you replied, daring him with the directness of your gaze. His hand fell away from your chin, just to cup your cheek as he moved closer. You grabbed onto his arm in reflex.

“I told you, I had to see you,” he admitted.

“Why? Why now?” you asked. “After what you said last time… For goodness’ sake, Dean. Why wait until I’m about to leave?”

“Because,” Dean said. He took a subtle breath, making himself relax. “Because I had to sort myself out, and I had to wait until the ink dried on those damn divorce papers. Because if I’d come any sooner, I wouldn’t be able to stop myself.”

Hope dared to rise high in your throat. Your eyes flit over his face, and finally met his.

“From what?” you whispered.

Dean tilted his head to consider it. He bit into his lip, and then, he made a choice.

He kissed you with abandon. He kept kissing you, stealing your breath, finding new angles to devour you with. He robbed you of any coherent thought in your head the moment his tongue breached your lips to curl against yours. It was all you could do to keep up with him, but you grabbed onto his jacket and made indents in the fabric with your nails. His hands moved down your body to squeeze your waist, pulling you flush against him. You moaned into his mouth.

“Dean,” you said, half on a gasp, half on a whimper.

He managed to slow down for a moment. His hand came up to pet your hair.

“No matter what the hell I do, I’m selfish. I just…I can’t let you go,” he said, with furrowed brows.

You shook your head in dismay. “You didn’t need to, you know. I wouldn’t have let you take me home that night if I didn’t think you were a good man…and I certainly wouldn’t have invited you in.”

Your lips tugged at a smile, making Dean smirk as well. That memory had stayed with him too, usually on long nights alone in his house. He tried to remember the sweet smell of your perfume, the feeling of your soft skin, the sound of your pretty moans in his ear. Even now, the thought stirred the well of arousal inside him.

But also, there were other things he missed, like the sight of your smile, your sweeter voice, somehow gentle and strong all at once. He shook his head, thumbing at your cheek.

“The truth is, I haven’t been able to get you out of my head since the day I met you,” he said. “I’m pretty sure that means I love you.”

Your eyes blinked wide at him in shock. His face was steady and even, but his amusement was starting to peek through the longer he looked at you.

“Pretty sure?” you asked breathlessly.

“Well, I’m willing to be more definitive on the subject if you are,” he teased.

You fought a smile, but you couldn’t quite help it. Still, doubt began to creep in from behind.

“I want to believe you,” you said quietly. “But part of me is afraid that these are all just pretty words. If I let another man—”

“I’m not another man,” Dean said. His tone was firm, but also imploring, willing you to hear him. He gave your waist a gentle squeeze. “I’m me and you’re you. It’s not about Michael, or anyone else right now but us. And you’ve gotta know…sweetheart, you’ve gotta know that I’m not him.”

You tried steadying yourself with a breath. Your watery gaze cut away from Dean, but he wouldn’t let you hide. He gently brought you back, once again guiding your chin. He swept the lone tear from your cheek.

“Please, just tell me the honest truth. Tell me how you feel about us, and I promise, I won’t take it for granted,” he said. He knew he was practically begging, sounding almost needy and weak, but he couldn’t walk away from you again. Not until he knew for sure what you could want from him…what you could want with him.

The seconds of waiting for your answer were more agonizing than the long hours he spent traveling back to New York.

Until finally, you spared him. You shook your head and raised a hand to caress his cheek, your thumb brushing over his plush lower lip.

“After you left, I thought about you every morning when I woke up. And I prayed for you every night before I went to sleep,” you said. “I’m pretty sure that means I love you too.”

Dean smiled. It was a soft, boyish smile that seemed too young for his face. You loved him all the more for it.

He leaned in…but he hesitated, stopping just shy of your lips.

“Look, I still don’t know if I can be the man you need,” he said. He looked into your eyes. “But I can promise to try, every day, and for the rest of our lives.”

Hot tears once again stung in your eyes, threatening to blur your vision.

“That’s all I could ask for, Dean,” you replied. “I’ll try for you too.”

He smiled slightly, holding you a little closer by your waist.

“Good, because my shoulder still hurts sometimes. Gonna need you to work another miracle or two.”

You laughed and nodded, your hand sliding back up his arm to rub the old injury in his shoulder.

“My specialty,” you teased.

His smile dimmed then, becoming a touch serious, and even rueful.

“And, uh…I don’t sleep so well at times, either,” he said.

You sobered as well. “Me too,” you said. Your lips hinted at a smile again. “But we can keep each other company.”

Dean read the thread of suggestion in your eyes, despite the hint of shyness. His smile began to perk up again.

“I can also be kind of stubborn,” he admitted.

Amused, you tilted your head and ran a gentle hand over his chest. Was he giving you every reason you might say no to him?

“Well, I’m sure I can find a way to soften you up,” you said.

Chuckling, Dean took your hand and pressed a kiss into your palm. “Oh, I got no doubts about that, sweetheart.”

He rested your hand back on his chest and thought for a moment more. You just waited for him, patiently stroking his hand with your thumb. You had time to wait.

“You know, I occasionally like to cook too,” he said, with something of an embarrassed chuckle.

Your smile brightened with interest. “Really? Well,” you said, slipping your hand out of his and winding your arms around his neck. “We can take turns feeding each other then.”

Dean really liked the way your mind worked. His hands splayed along your lower back and brought you more flush against his chest. Your face was mere inches from his, tilted up to him in waiting.

Again, he stopped short of kissing you.

“Ah, there’s probably a lot more you should know, but this one’s kind of a big one,” Dean said. That serious tone crept back up in his voice. “I’ve got a plan to make money. It’s not a sure-fire thing, but it’s an honest one. And even if it doesn’t work, I’ll just try something else. I’ll do whatever it takes to take care of you. You don’t gotta worry about anything, okay?”

You smiled at his earnestness. What surprised you most of all was that you believed him. Every word. Because you could see it in the deep green of his eyes. If you trusted him, he wouldn’t let you down. Or at least, he would try his hardest. Try really was all you could ask for.

“Then I’ll take care of you too,” you nodded, stroking his cheek.

Dean’s smile rang true as well.

He finally kissed you again, trapping you thereafter against the sofa.

You sighed and nuzzled your head in a more comfortable position on Dean’s shoulder. The train bound for South Dakota was travelling full speed ahead, four days after your initially booked ticket. The carriage bumped and jostled you both at times, but you felt nothing but peace.

Dean turned his attention towards you, and he pressed a kiss to your forehead. His fingers entwined with yours in his lap.

“Comfortable?” he asked, both genuine and a little teasing.

“Mhmm,” you nodded. Your eyes closed as you let out a breath. He smiled into your hair.

“So what’s it like in Sioux Falls?” he asked quietly, as to not disturb you too much. He just wanted to keep hearing your voice. He’d missed it. He’d missed you.

“Quieter than the city,” you replied, after a moment to think about it. “Slower, but in some ways nicer. I think you’ll like it more than New York, anyway, and I think my parents will like you too…if they don’t think too much less of me.”

“Why would they think less of you?” Dean asked.

You picked your head up and looked up at him a bit bashfully. You raised up your joined hands, where his mother’s wedding bands now rested on your ring finger.

“For marrying another man they’ve never met, scarcely two minutes after the ink dried, so to speak,” you said, using his words.

Dean chuckled, and he wrapped you up more snugly against him and rubbed your back. If you wanted to get technical, the new marriage license was the most recent “ink” to be penned. Sam had been your witness, of course, and he’d hugged you both afterwards. For Dean, Sam’s hug was tight and bracing.

“I’m happy for you, Dean. I’m always here for you. Anything you need.”

“That’s my line, little brother.”

Dean hadn’t known that the two of you needed to take a blood test just to get hitched, let alone that the license wouldn’t be valid for 72 hours. Though it did give you and Dean the opportunity to put your hotel room to good use for those three days. Call it a honeymoon before the honeymoon.

(In fairness, you’d tried to hold out for decency’s sake, but your resolve dissipated even quicker than Dean’s.)

“Don’t worry, I’ll charm ‘em,” he said with a grin.

You snorted. “Good luck with my father. Be prepared for his grilling. Where do you plan to live? What’re you doing for work?”

“Well, the first one we can talk about. The second one, I’ve already got an idea,” said Dean. “I wanted to wait until I saw you again to decide…but I plan to sell the house in Lawrence.”

Your eyes widened in surprise. “Really? Why?”

You had already been mentally preparing yourself for a move to Kansas after visiting your parents. You never considered that Dean would want to sell his family home.

“For the money. I’m thinking that after all this, you want to stick closer to home, be near your family,” he said. “I’ve got nothing tying me down over there besides the house, so I figure we can use the money to buy one here. With whatever’s left, I could try to start an auto repair shop. Nothing big to start. Just a space big enough for the work. I’m not picky about it. Your uncle could send me the stragglers from his tows, if he’s agreeable to it.”

“After he gets to know you, I don’t see why not. Dean, that’s a great idea and…thank you,” you replied. Your heart was touched that he would sell his family home, just so you could be near your family. You squeezed his hand and blinked past the tears beginning to burn in your eyes.

“Really, you don’t know what it means to me that you’d consider me like that.”

Dean noticed you getting worked up. He stroked the back of your hand with his thumb, though part of him felt a bit bashful.

“It’s not all that special,” he said. You didn’t budge, however.

“Yes, it is,” you said. You leaned up, wordlessly requesting a kiss. Dean obliged you. He kissed you long and slow and tender.

He broke away after a while, just to look over your shoulder. He smiled. Then he leaned forward, careful to keep you secure in his arms as he locked the door.

“What’re you up to?” you asked in amusement, despite the fire churning inside you.

“It’s a long way to the Midwest, sweetheart. I’m taking advantage of it,” he said. “What do you say?”

A knowing smile began to tug at your lips. “Hmm, depends on what you want to do.”

Dean shifted you onto his lap. Smirking at your small sound of surprise, he made a show of undoing every button that laced down the front of your dress with slow precision. Your breathing shallowed as you watched his nimble hand go one by one.

“I plan to take my time,” he said. “I plan to make us both glad this train is loud enough to drown out just about anything.”

He laid a kiss just above your neckline. The more buttons he loosened, the more bare skin he had to trail his affections, like on the tops of your breasts, and another kiss in between them. Uttering a soft sigh, you held him to you by his hair and threaded your fingers through the brown strands. His other hand squeezed your bottom, earning a stifled giggle from you.

“I plan to map out every part of you, all over again,” he said, “until I can see it all with my eyes closed. Until we’re both sweaty and satisfied.”

He raised his head just to mark a biting, claiming kiss on your throat, making your breath hitch.

“That okay with you, baby?” he asked again.

You felt his growing smile against your skin. You tightened a hand in his hair in retaliation. It was a scandalous proposal, not to mention risky. You two could be booted off the train, for heaven’s sake…

Your breaths were shallow as he slipped a hand under the collar of your blouse, even under the bra to palm at your breast.

“You better not stop, Sergeant,” you whispered.

When he chuckled, you felt it deep in your chest.

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied, shortly before he claimed your lips again.

The train rode on.

AN: I promised a happy ending, didn't I? 😉✨ What did you think of the "end" of Michael, as well as how she and Dean worked things out? I absolutely loved working on this series and this AU world. Maybe I'll do another '40s AU in the future! 💖

But until then, I have lots of fun things coming up! You'll hear about the next story soon. 😘

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