#i don't want to be that way !!!!!!!!! i want to be normal and talk to people i care about a normal amount

[alchemistc]

Post finale crack treated seriously. Ravi "Who's Tommy" Panikkar stirring shit up for his new friend.

red string

"You know you guys are like, weirdly interconnected, right?" Ravi asks, like Buck hasn't spent the last ten minutes admitting he doesn't know how to reach out to Tommy.

"How would you know?"

Ravi has the grace to look a little squirrelly for half a second. "Okay so I know a lot of people at the LAFD. Because of the Academy stint. And - well, a lot of them know I own rentals."

"Thanks for letting me do month to month, by the way."

"Yeah you sure did remind me that you saved my life a bunch of times before I agreed to that. I had to send in a special request with the company that runs that apartment building."

"Your life is way more important than a special request, Ravi."

Ravi looks like he has something else to say about that, but.

"You're veering off the point. I'm trying to tell you you two have like, a weird red string thing going on and it's kind of driving me crazy that you won't just figure it out and go live in his house month to month until you figure out your crap and like, elope like the crazy people you are."

Buck takes a second to let that sink in. "Have you been asking all your LAFD buddies about Tommy and me?" His narrowed eyes don't seem to have the same effect as Hen's. Ravi stares back at him like he's making a stupid face.

"In my defense, I did try to ask you but you spent weeks trying to find a way to pull his pigtails."

He's not touching that with a ten foot pole. Nice ammo for when he gets home, though. "So you, what, put together an itemized list of reasons we should be together?"

"Gross. No. I gossiped, like a normal person."

"Lists are important, Ravi."

"If you don't do something on your own I'll get his number from one of the guys at Harbor I know and tell him about all the baked goods you foisted on me for two solid months after he dumped you. And about all the pining I've had to put up with since -."

"Evan. Hey."

Buck is the sort of person who always wants to play it cool and never quite manages. The table jumps when he cracks his knee against it.

And there he is, in all his glory. Date night chic, four buttons undone, hair perfectly tousled, probably that aftershave that always made Buck want to live in the junction between his neck and shoulder.

"And that's my cue," Ravi says, and does a terrible approximation of a wink as he scoots out of the booth. "This is a setup. I set you both up. Tommy, this beer is yours, please sit. Don't make me do this a third time."

And then he's gone.

Tommy slides in, and it's familiar in a way that Buck doesn't enjoy.

Ravi reappears. "I already had his number, that was a decoy because I saw him walking in. Please, for the love of God, talk this time."

They stare at each other for a long, long time. Tommy has this way of looking at him that always makes Buck feel like he could run through a brick wall. Like Tommy would take care of him after even though it was a dumb thing to do. Like Tommy would thank him for the opportunity to take care of him.

"So Ravi has a theory," Tommy says, after they've taken their fill of staring in silence.

"I kept interrupting him but it kinda sounded like he's been spending way too much time dissecting our lives."

Tommy's smile lights up this dingy sports bar like nothing else. "Kinda reminds me of you, if I'm honest."

"He doesn't even like spreadsheets, Tommy."

"God, I love you."

It's a terrible place to start.

It's an excellent way to keep going.

[aggressiveviking]

I think we just want normal stories that don't put queerness at the center of the universe or talking about it being the main plotline of a story.

Completely ignoring how it can affect the world and the characters is just poor world building/writing.

I personally don't want to escape in a world where the issues around it are nonexistent, because then that story/world won't connect to me in any way. What I want is a queer character experiencing normal things, where they feel like an actual person and not a prop.

To me the current queer media feels like I'm being explained what a queer person is and that we exist. I already know I exist, I already know my struggles. I simply want stories that allow queer characters to be more than their sexuality and gender.

Romance, comedy, adventure — silly, stupid, cute, or with an overcomplicated plotline that has nothing to do with the fact that they are queer. They should still have their personal side story to the main plot because that's how u write rich stories and characters.

All that I'm asking for is a fun story.

I feel like a sentiment growing in popularity is that queer people want stories were queerness is incidental, because they're tired of stories about struggling against oppression and want something more escapist. But I've been reading some speculative fiction recently where the queerness of characters is completely unremarked upon, and finding it deeply unsatisfying. It feels less like like escapism to me and more like a gaping hole in the worldbuilding. It's not an issue that the societies depicted are queer-neutral or queer-positive, it's that there is like nothing addressing what those societies think about sexuality, gender, and family systems at all. There's a lot of interesting ways you can write about third genders and same-sex societies/relationships in speculative culture and ignoring all of it entirely to plaster over a surface level modern queer culture veneer is just tragic, in my opinion

[chaoticwriting]

My Dad

It is a normal Tuesday evening. Everyone is going about their day, shopping, eating, and even having fun. There is no major event that requires the heroes attention whatsoever.

Right?

Beast Boy: Dude, I was just about to finish the new season. Why can't you attack us tomorrow or next week? *Turns into an elephant and stomps on a parademon*

Cyborg: I would prefer if they don't attack us at all, thank you very much. *Shooting down a few parademons with laser beam*

Nightwing: Guys, focus. Batman just informed me, Darkseid is moving in. We need to evacuate the civilians here, fast. *Dropkicking a parademon*

Suddenly, a big explosion sounded on the opposite side of where they are. All of them look at it and realize that they are no longer connected with the Justice League.

Nightwing: BB, do you think you could check what's going on there?

Beast Boy: On it *Turns into an eagle and flies there to scout*

Beast Boy: Not good. JL is down. We might need to call in back up.

Nightwing: I don't think there is anyone left that we could call. Everyone is already here.

Raven: I could try calling my dad.

Starfire: Trigon? I don't think that's a good idea.

Raven: Not him. My other dad.

Beast Boy: Trigon has a husband? I don't expect that.

Raven: No. It's not like that. Ugghh. It's very hard to explain. Do you want me to call him or not?

Nightwing: Call him. If you think he could help.

Raven: *Takes out a green neon necklace and crush it* Dad, I need help. Darkseid is here.

A green portal appears in front of them. Out of it comes a tall 6 ft 8 guy that towers above all of them. His flaming hair and red eyes gives the impression of not so good people. But since Raven trusts him, they also trust him for now.

Dan: That punk? I thought I already warned him about coming to Earth. *Stares at a distance* Do you want me to save those poor bastards on the ground or just let them be?

Raven: Please save them.

Dan: Alright. But I expect a visit soon. Your aunts and uncle have been pestering me about you. *Patting her head*

Raven: Of course. Can I also bring someone with me? I want to introduce him to you.

Dan: Him? Is it a boyfriend? Which one of you think you are worthy of my daughter? Is it that metal guy? Or that one in blue spandex?

Raven: *Blushes* Dad, we could talk about it later. Darkseid, first. Please.

Dan: Alright, but I totally wouldn't approve of this boyfriend of yours. Make sure he comes prepared for the dinner.

Raven: Yes, yes. Now go.

Dan then flies straight towards Darkseid and tackles him straight into his mothership. Along the way, any parademons in a 1000 meter radius burst into flames as he pummels Darkseid to the ground.

Looking at the fast-paced battle, the Titans just stare as they wonder what should they do now that all the parademons are gone.

Beast Boy: *Just return from scouting* So uh, Raven. What did your dad mean when he said I should be prepared for dinner?

Raven: It's nothing to worry about. Just some fighting and eating. Mostly eating.

Beast Boy: Ouh.

Nightwing: So how is he related to you again? I can't see any resemblance.

Raven: He's my dad.

[pagesfromthevoid]

Future Fest | b. f.

Bob Floyd x teacher!reader

High school recruitment isn’t usually on the short list of things to do during the day, but it is today.

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: None

Author's Note: I don't even know what possessed me but here I am. Also, the feral things the students say in this are actual quotes from my actual students.

Masterlist | Talk to Me! | AO3

She really needs to learn how to say “no” when people ask her to do things at work.

It’s a bad habit –a combination of the incessant need to be liked by everyone and genuinely caring about what the students would want–that she just can’t seem to break. 

Today, it’s Future Fest. The very first event of the year where any student sixteen and older can ditch their regularly scheduled classes and come down to the gym to talk to different college representatives, explore career choices, and interact with military recruiters. About 75% of those students are there to actually get an idea about what they want to do after high school –that other 25% are there to get out of class.

Not that she blames them, of course. She probably would have done the same thing if this had been a thing when she was in school. 

The college and career counselor at the school had asked her to help out, since most of her students had signed up to go anyway (and unfortunately for those who didn’t, they got to go anyway because of her). It’s all hands on deck when it comes to these sorts of events, just to ensure that things go smoothly and none of the kids act like fools. Plus, she’s getting paid for “covering” a class three periods in a row –not a lot, but it’s certainly better than nothing. 

Her task is to just walk the aisles and keep an eye on things. Talk to some of the representatives, thank them for coming to the school, encourage kids to talk to them too. It’s easy enough, and she jokes with many of the representatives that she’s getting her steps in today.

“Miss!” One of her students practically screams, running up to her and grabbing her arm. A gaggle of sophomore girls are trailing behind, carrying pamphlets for the Navy. “Have you seen the military guys?”

She peers over the heads of the students, towards the back of the gym, where the recruiters are. She can sort of make out their faces, but she’s not truly all that interested.

“I haven’t made my way over there yet,” she offers, pulling her arm free from the girl. “Why?”

“They’re hot.”

“You know, normal teenagers don’t tell their teachers when they find people hot,” she points out, rolling her eyes.

She’s suddenly surrounded by teenage girls, and she wishes for a moment that the kids didn’t like her half as much as they did. Boundaries are important, and teenagers have no idea how they work. They tell her things she truly does not want or need to know –though it’s a double edged sword. For all the weird, practically feral comments they make, they tell her things that are important to know. How their lives at home are, if they need help, if they’re struggling. She reminds them that she loves them, but they need to remember they’re not friends.

“Yeah but we’re not normal and you’re our mom, so like…it’s fine.”

They call her the school mom, which is…better than being their friend, she supposes.

The girls are insisting she go and talk to the recruiters, or at least look at them, so she throws her hands up and heads over. But she tells the girls they have to talk to three college representatives if she does that –they agree quickly and hurry off, though they’re watching to make sure she actually goes over there.

Rolling her eyes, she holds her hands behind her back and strolls down the aisle until she sees the banner for the Navy –then below it, a sign advertising the United States Navy Strike Fighter Tactics Instructor Program. She thinks that’s a mouthful, though also knows the program is highly sought after by many of the students at the school. Being the closest high school to the naval air base will do that, though.

As she approaches, she can hear two of her students talking to the recruiters –one tall, blonde and holding a helmet that’s labelled “Hangman.” He’s confident, and he’s cute (she’ll give him that much), but she doesn’t particularly like how he’s talking to the boys in front of him. Beside him is another pilot, she assumes, since she’s wearing her flight suit and the helmet in front of her says “Phoenix.” She’s trying to cut in, but Hangman seems to be more interested in bragging than anything else. She catches the tail end of their conversation, something about their call signs and what they are. 

Beside Phoenix, however, is someone who looks too sweet to be in the military. He’s talking to a junior, showing him something on a tablet that looks like blueprints. But he’s smiling ear to ear, seemingly enjoying whatever he’s talking about. His glasses are slipping down the bridge of his nose, but he’s too caught up talking to the student to notice. 

He, she thinks, is cute. And he’s nice to the students, which is important to her.

She steps around the student, standing to the side as she waits for them to finish up. From this angle, she catches the name on his tag –Floyd –and makes a mental note. However, it’s Hangman who finishes up first, and approaches with an award-winning (and cocky) smile.

“Well hello there,” he offers, extending his hand. “Lieutenant Jake Seresin, at your service.”

She takes his hand politely, shaking it, and introducing herself. “Nice to meet you, lieutenant. I was just stopping over to thank you guys for coming out. It means so much to the school.”

His colleague Phoenix, extends her hand next, smiling as well. “Lieutenant Natasha Trace. It’s not a problem –we love coming out and doing stuff like this.”

“So you’re all pilots?” She asks, motioning towards their helmets. 

“Me and Phoenix are –Bob over there is a Weapons System Officer,” Lieutenant Seresin explains, though he’s smirking some as Natasha –Phoenix –elbows Bob to get his attention. 

Bob looks up, as if suddenly realizing she’s not a student and she’s an adult, and he turns a bit pink in the ears as he sets down his tablet.

“I’m sorry about that, ma’am,” he offers, then extends his hand to her. “Lieutenant Robert Floyd, though most people just call me Bob.”

She takes his hand and offers a real smile –not that she wasn’t smiling properly to his colleagues, but Bob seems sweet and it's hard not to offer him a proper one. She reintroduces herself one more time.

“It’s a pleasure –like I was saying, I just wanted to thank you guys for coming out and doing this. Future Fest is our big thing and the kids really love it. Having you guys join us is a big deal.”

“Oh, I love doing stuff like this,” Bob offers, and the smile on his face just hasn’t gone away.

She’s a bit distracted, caught up in just how genuinely interested he seems to be in the whole thing. Most people aren’t terribly excited to spend their day talking to high schoolers –but Bob actually seems to mean it. And she appreciates that, because she’s someone who also enjoys working with the students (though it would be a shame if she didn’t, given she’s a teacher). It helps that he’s got the prettiest blue eyes she’s ever seen, and he’s got some sort of accent that she can’t place but it’s nice to hear. 

Was it weird to flirt at school? She vaguely remembers her mom saying they used to flirt with the firemen when they came to her school, so it can’t be terribly inappropriate. It’s not like she’s doing anything lewd –she’s just talking. And smiling. 

“So what does a Weapons System Officer do, Lieutenant Floyd?” She asks, both because she’s interested and because she wants to keep hearing him talk. 

“Here we go,” Hangman says, rolling his eyes but Phoenix elbows him as they turn their attention to a student who approaches.

Bob beams at the chance to explain, taking up the tablet again and holding it out to her. “So WSO’s –that’s what I do –are responsible for manning the weapon systems of the F/A-18F Super Hornet strike fighter from that jet's aft seat. That’s just the back,” he explains, pointing to where he must be stationed when he’s in the plane. “Depending on the mission, when designated as the mission commander, I’m the one responsible for all phases of the assigned mission, especially if there are multiple aircraft involved.”

“So you’re in charge?” She asks, leaning against the table and zooming in on the inside of the plane. Though truthfully, she has no idea what she’s looking at. It’s just a lot of buttons and numbers she doesn’t quite understand. She’s certain, however, if she asked, he would explain it step by step to her.

“Like I said, it depends on the mission,” he offers, pulling the tablet back in front of him to show her something else. 

She must be staring, because from a few feet away, she hears her name being called, a handful of giggles and then,

“Ooh, miss! Get it!”

She blushes. Bob blushes. Hangman and Phoenix are paying attention suddenly and laughing.

“Savannah Johnson, you absolute menace,” she scolds, standing up straight. She turns to Bob, smiling sheepishly. “I’m sorry about that, Lieutenant Floyd. You’ll have to excuse me; I need to go remind the kids that they can’t be unhinged in mixed company.”

“Only in mixed company?” He jokes, but the blush has spread from his cheeks down his neck.

“I keep a running list of all the things they say in class all year,” she offers with a laugh, and she’s very aware that she’s being watched now but can’t help it.

“I’d love to see it,” he says and she really can’t help it now as she picks up a business card with his name on it.

“This your cell phone or your work phone?” She asks, holding it up in front of him. 

Bob swallows hard and shakes his head, but takes the card from her and a pen from his shirt pocket. He scribbles his number on the back and hands it back to her, almost timidly.

“I’ll send you a few when I go to lunch; then you can decide if you want the whole list.”

“Sounds great, miss.”

She turns on her heel to walk away, feeling the heat rising to her cheeks, as her students practically scream at her. She shoos them away, telling them they need to act better if they’re in public. 

The bell rings for lunch, and she’s waiting for the students to exit the gym, when he approaches her this time. She turns and smiles when she sees Bob, standing just a few inches taller than her, with a shy grin on his face. 

“Sorry to bother you, miss. I was just…,” He hesitates but she just smiles, waiting. “I was just wondering if you would like to have lunch with me? Phoenix and Hangman went off campus, but I brought my lunch.”

She bites her lip and nods some. “That sounds nice, actually. I usually eat in my classroom, if you want to go up there with me.”

She’d have to tell her velcro kids they need to go elsewhere today, but they would understand. Or they’d sit outside the door –either way. Bob nods and they make easy conversation as she leads him through the hallways of the school. She explains little things that he asks about –murals, artwork on display, awards. Everything he asks is tinged with actual interest and it makes her heart pound. 

There’s four or five kids sitting outside her door when they get upstairs, and they all look up at her in confusion as she opens the door. Bob waves at them politely.

“Sorry guys –I have a guest today,” she explains, though she still motions them inside. “Grab a snack and off you go.”

They huff and puff but grab whatever they need from a drawer at the front of the room, then leave with a flurry of goodbyes and thank you’s. Bob watches them for a moment before taking a seat at a desk. She leaves the door open –if anything because she doesn’t need anyone assuming the worst (and the kids will). Then she grabs her lunch from the mini fridge in the corner, setting it on a desk in front of him and turning it around.

“I haven’t sat in one of these in a long time,” he chuckles, taking out his very neatly organized meal. It makes her thrown together lunch look kind of sad, honestly. “I can’t imagine sitting here every day again.”

“They hate them, but I’m hoping I get some grant money to get something better next year.”

“It’s a shame you have to get grants just to have decent things in the classroom.”

“Well, all that military spending does make a dent in the education fund,” she teases, and she’s grinning at him playfully as she does it.

“Ouch,” he puts his hand over his heart, wincing some at the jab. “I don’t know what to say outside of I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” she reassures him, taking out her phone and opening her notes app. “Okay, you ready to hear some of the feral things high schoolers say when they’re way too comfortable with you?”

“I don’t know,” he laughs, leaning back in the seat. “It can’t be that bad, right?”

She gives him a look of warning, then scrolls down…and down…and down…

“That is…a long list,” he comments, peering over the top of her phone. He almost sounds concerned.

“Oh, it is,” she promises, then stops to find her favorite so far. “‘Laws are temporary but friends are forever.’”

Bob chuckles through a bite of his sandwich. “That’s not so bad.”

She puts her finger up. “‘His parents are getting divorced. I hope neither of them want him.’”

“Oh my god.”

“‘I’m going to be a legal pot dealer after college.’”

“What does that even mean?”

“He wants to be a pharmacist,” she explains with a laugh. “I’m just happy he isn’t dropping out.”

“Okay, that’s fair,” he concedes, motioning for her to continue.

��‘I learned the other day that my dad looks up goth girl ASMR online.’”

She pauses and looks at Bob, who's trying not to choke on his sandwich. Setting her phone down, she leans back and opens up her bag of grapes with a laugh. For a few minutes, that’s it —they’re eating and laughing. When they stop laughing, she reads another and they laugh again. This goes on for most of the lunch period, up until her alarm goes off to warn her she has three minutes before the bell rings. 

“Oh shit,” she says, quickly packing up her things. “I have to actually teach now. I didn’t realize what time it was —,”

Bob quickly stands and packs his own stuff up, then flips the desk around with ease for her. She stares for a moment, watching how his arms flex as he lifts the desk without issue. Oh dear. 

“I don’t want to be too forward,” he says as students are trying to trickle in. He quickly shuts the door, looking down at her. “But I…I would really like to take you out on a date, if you’d let me.”

Kids are peering through the little window, knocking on the door. She waves them off a bit, looking up at him with a soft smile. 

“I would really like that.”

He nods, opening the door now. Kids are pushing through to get settled in, but he’s awkwardly standing in the doorway with a boyish grin and a blush. She pushes him gently out the door, but follows him out as she waits at the door for stragglers. 

“I’ll text you after school.”

“I look forward to it.”

She waves him off, smiling dreamily as she watches him walk off. He turns and walks backwards for a moment, waving at her before finally disappearing out the hallway doors. 

When she shuts the door and returns to her classroom, her students are staring at her with wide eyes. 

And then the chaos ensues.

—————

Part Two

[leashybebes]

fuck it friday

tagged by @bidisasterevankinard (😘)

full disclosure, i have no idea what this is, or if it'll become anything, but i wrote it on my lunch break, so let's call this a vague maybe wip, i guess. add it to the ever growing list of hiatus tasks

They've been doing this - being friends, getting dinner a couple times a week, talking, texting a carefully normal amount - for a couple months when Buck takes a deep breath and says,

"Hey. I'm sorry."

Tommy looks at him over the takeout containers, looking honestly, simply, confused.

"You're - why?"

"I don't…I feel like I maybe didn't appreciate you the way you deserve when we were dating. Like I didn't see you, you know?"

"You didn't," Tommy agrees and it stings more than Buck was expecting. "But that's not all on you. I didn't let you."

"Why is that? Was I - " Don't make it all about yourself, Buck tells himself, but he can't help finishing the thought. "Did you just…know I wouldn't be enough?"

"What? Evan. No. God, no. It's - it's me. I disappear into relationships. Lose myself in them. If anything I'm just grateful it was someone like you this time."

"What does that mean?"

"You're a good guy. People use this word as an insult, or to mean boring, but I don't mean it that way, okay? You're really nice."

"I - put a pin in that," Buck says, thinking about a specific time he was not nice to Tommy. "What does you disappear into relationships mean?"

"Oh. Um." Tommy does his little awkward fist tap. "I mean I just…want to be whatever they want me to be. I lose sight of what I want. What I need, I guess."

God, Buck wishes they could have had these conversations when they were together.

"Why?"

Tommy shrugs. "Spend your whole life wanting to disappear and eventually it sticks, I guess."

i feel like i have no idea who's working on stuff, who's taking a hiatus break, etc etc so call it an open tag and show me what you got, gang

[rotationalsymmetry]

Some thoughts on this: the problem with "where are you from originally" (for anyone who doesn't know this yet) is it can come across as "so, you seem to be not white, what are you anyways?" which is just a ruder (implications of "you don't belong here") way of asking someone's race/ethnicity, which is not a small talk question because it's not light and neutral. "Did you grow up around here" as far as i am aware does not have any of those associations.

In general how much people like small talk and other social interactions kinda like that has a great deal to do with social power. People tend to not like it when they're forced into it or might end up listening to someone else's obnoxious opinions while not getting to state their own (for instance, being trans and being in situations where it's socially acceptable to complain about they/them pronouns but not really socially acceptable to express too much frustration about, for instance, people endlessly complaining about they/them pronouns. Hypothetically.) And...in general the younger someone is, the more they're used to always being on the less powerful side of an interaction, and ditto for the more disabled someone is. What I mean is: I think sometimes the barrier to learning small talk that people need removed before they can feel OK about it is not feeling like it's OK to just not do it when you don't want to. Things tend to be a lot more appealing when they're voluntary.

So it can help to start with excuses for ending the conversation or not engaging. I'm not the best at this, but something like: "it was nice meeting you/catching up with you, I have to (do work thing/use the restroom)" or, I'm not thinking of the words right now, but that thing where you're at a social event with many people and you say you want to walk around talking with a bunch of other people. (It's normal at many kinds of social events to only spend a couple minutes talking with each person -- or only spend a couple minutes talking with each person until you find someone you want to spend a long time talking to.) In a work context when you obviously don't have work to do right then, that might be something like "sorry, I'm really tired today, I'm not really up for chitchat." (That's not a real apology "sorry", that's a smooth things over "sorry.")

Small talk is generally considered a nice thing to do and can help build relationships and also make routine interactions more pleasant, but it's not doing any of that when one person really doesn't want to do small talk, so it's ok to dodge out of it (or keep it to, like, one exchange) when you really don't want to do it.

I'm trying to figure out a good way to say "you really should actually learn the basics of small talk" with sounding like I'm biased against autistic people.

[hellfire--cult]

No but I need all the fuckboy eddie thots 😩

oh sarah, i have all the thots

+18 - like for example, when you and fuckboy!eddie met for the first time. (prev eddie thot) - smut incoming btw, p in v, oral, all that

.

It was a party you weren't sure who was hosting. A normal summer night away from they typical bars and same group of people you hung out with every weekend. You met a new person while grocery shopping, someone you think you've heard of before, but you moved to Hawkins just a year ago, so you couldn't be sure.

Steve Harrington seemed nice, handsome, big hazel eyes that showed desperate need of attention, of someone to hold him and reassure him that he is an amazing guy and all that. You tried to grab the same kind of beans, fingers brushing with yours like it would happen in a romantic comedy, only that you really wanted to fuck him the moment you connected eyes with his.

He asked for your name and if you had been in Hawkins for long because he had never seen 'Such a pretty face' before in this town. Cliche lines, but that made it way easier. So before paying, he asked for your number and then invited you to a party he was going to with some friends that weekend and you could bring anyone you wanted.

So there you were, but no Steve Harrington to be seen.

Nursing a drink by yourself in the corner of the living room, all the guys playing beer pong while some girls danced on the side. It looked like a high school party, and you were already in your 20's. Your patience was thinning because you were expecting to get laid tonight, and now your friend was nowhere near you.

Until you took your pack of cigarettes out of your pocket and started walking to the backyard that you spotted Steve making out with your friend in the kitchen. You groaned loudly, because you couldn't blame your friend. You explained Steve's looks to her, but there were many brown haired guys around, and you didn't spot Steve until this very moment, so you couldn't have introduced them.

You defeatedly walked to the backyard, already pissed that you were the one going home with a dry pussy. You put a cigarette up your lips only to not find your lighter anywhere, cursing through the stick, only to then have a flame lit up in front of you. Your eyes found sharp brown ones.

"Need a light?" His voice was hoarse, cheeky, a dimpled smile that could knock someone over. He had long hair, not exactly the type you always went for, but it looked good on him. He was definitely a metal head, just by looking at the get up and the accessories. All black, metal belt and chains hanging from his hips, leather jacket, a V-Cut shirt underneath and a red pick necklace adorning his collarbone.

And the glimpse of a tattoo coming out of the side of the collar, right on his left pec.

You slowly batted your eyelashes to him, leaning to light the cigarette with his help. You took a deep breath in as he lit his own cancer stick, taking a swig of it. You both exhaled the smoke at the same time before you talked.

"Thanks."

"Don't mention it, sweetheart." Oh, petnames. You were definitely into that. "So, what's with the angry look?"

Should you lie? What kind of story would you perform for the guy you just met in front of you?

"Well, my friend is definitely making out with the guy who invited me to this party, so." You pretended to be hurt, not angry. Pretended that your ego was crushed and you were basically a damsel in distress with a pouty lip. His grin widened, his eyebrows falling on the edges in a 'sad' frown.

"Aw, poor baby. That's not cool of your friend, or that guy."

"It's fine, it's whatever. I met him once but--" You gave a shrug as he bit his lip and you noticed the people around you looking every once in a while. They knew this guy. Interesting.

"Well, I would be delighted, if you'd like, to spend the night with you while you wait for your friend to be done." He offered, and oh, you would be the delighted one by the end of it. You gave him a sweet smile, a bat of your eyelashes and you nodded. "I'm Eddie, by the way."

You gave him your name and you learnt that he had lived in Hawkins for a long while. Then you commented on his clothes and you were right when you said he was a metalhead. He excused himself for a second to get you two a drink and waltzed back inside. You finished your cigarette and a girl approached you with a guy on her arm.

"Damn, don't get attached to a guy like that girl." And as she left, you could already guess what that meant. People had said the same shit about you. It wasn't your fault that people got clingy after fucking more than twice. It wasn't your fault so many guys had mommy issues. And that girl was obviously an Ex-Hook Up of his. No woman would give out a comment like that for nothing.

This was going to be way more entertaining than Steve Harrington.

When he came back, you continued your sweet act. That carefree girl that giggled at everything, and you wondered if this man would be the same as the others. Would he get clingy? No. He didn't look the type, and if his reputation was the same as yours, then you knew he was just there for fun.

So it didn't take long for him to get you in the back of his van in the middle of the woods, far from the residencies. His van smelled of weed, leather, and some cheap ass air freshener. But you didn't really care for it. Not when this man was finger fucking you into another galaxy.

"Sweet girl..." He moaned into your neck, his upper body naked for you to see. It had three tattoos, one of the left pec just like you've spotted, one on his ribcage on the right side, then another in the left. His arms were littered in them and you wondered if his legs were the same.

You were entirely naked, letting him scan your body, letting him pretend he was dominant of the situation as you got vulnerable for him. He was all dressed still as you spread your legs for him and he moaned at the sight of you. In the palm of your fucking hand.

You weren't prepared for his fingers to be this good, until he went down and started eating you out, talking into your pussy when you asked how was he doing that.

"I play the guitar... And I sing too." And he proved that by swirling his tongue on your clit. You could count with the fingers of a single hand the times a man went down willingly on you. And you had a big body count.

He made you see stars two times, and then it was your turn. You were desperate that night to see his cock, and he didn't disappoint. He was blessed, to say the least. His legs had some tattoos, and you made sure to kiss them and trace your tongue all over them as his hand ran through your hair.

When you put his cock in your mouth and moaned, his head went back with a groan and an amused chuckle as you started bobbing your head, making the sounds louder on purpose, spitting at the tip of his dick and dipping the tip of your tongue into the head of it.

"Damn, you aren't that innocent, huh?" Understatement of the year, pretty boy.

And then when he was finally inside, he fucked methodically but desperate at the same time. He knew when to roll his hips into you slowly and when to start slamming into you like a madman.

"Eddie-- Eddie--" He was forcing you to look at him as the van moved from side to side, shaking at his movements, his cock going in and out of your leaking cunt. His hand was gripping your chin tightly, his eyes boring into yours as he breathed heavily through his nose, in harsh huffs.

"Say my name again, say it again." And you did. You did until you both came. You were amazed about how easily he made you cum three times in a single night and fuck do you want to experience it again, but you had to test the waters.

So when he was driving back to the party so you could find your friend and leave, you bit your lip, looking at him.

"Well, this was nice Eddie. Thank you for spending the night with me." You moved to open the passenger's door until his hand came to rub onto your cheek to make you look at him.

"Give me your number and we can repeat it again, whenever you like. I loved having a sweet thing like you tonight for myself." You gave him a shy smile, and he was smirking at you, licking the inside of the bottom of his lip. "Come on..."

"Alright." He gave you a kiss on your pulse point once you handed him the little piece of paper with your number on it.

Sucker.

[rinsnumber1fan]

itoshi rin headcanons.

warning: nsfw + fluff + randomest things ever + EXTREMELY CANON.

☆ rin itoshi is FUCKING STUPID you assume. Because he doesn't think about anything other than soccer. If you talk about something that's going on in the world, he'll be like "Huh? Really? Cool." + if you tell him to do something like "could you pass me that bag?" He'd bring you a fucking plastic bag and hand it over to you. And no that's not the bag you asked for.

☆ rin itoshis love languages are probably Acts of service + Quality time. He thinks doing things for you = I love you which is why he says "I love you" way too rarely.

☆ he doesn't care where it is, what it is but he's always competing. Especially in a relationship. You buy him a mediocre cologne? He'll buy you expensive jewelery. You buy him a crappy show piece? He buys you the most expensive show piece he can find. He's always competitive.

☆ he hates MATH. And he sucks at it too. He never gave it too much consideration either because "only soccer is important." Doesn't even know basic algebra 💔💔

☆ he gets jealous like normal men but he doesn't show it too much. He thinks he's lost if he shows it. But he can't stop himself from placing a hand on your shoulder or around your waist when a man gets too close to you.

☆ acts like he doesn't care but he really cares the most. He loves you even though he barely says it.

☆ random: he zones out way too often.

NSFW ALERT:

☆ When I said he liked challenges I meant he liked winning them. So obviously, he loves being in control of your situation. He loves to have this power play thing where you are definitely the submissive one.

☆ he isn't very vocal, doesn't say much when he's in the moment with you because he's too mind blown by how you feel. So he'd murmur once or twice about "yeah? You're doing so well for me.. made for me, weren't you?" He'd say or "that's a good girl."

☆ absolutely LOVES getting you dumb or cock-drunk. He breaths in the expressions you make and the things you say. He wants to hold you harder, kiss you harder and push deeper.

☆ his kinks? Corruption kink + Power play. Where he's always in control. And if you're a virgin? Yeah he's gonna destroy you. He loves it when you're a little bit innocent like, "oh!! What do you use that for?" Even if it really is a bit innocent, he just loves having to explain things to you, to know that you don't know much and that he wants to show you when (if youre an innocent gyal) you asked him "uhh so do they take their clothes off when they do the... thing..?" And absolutely loves being in control. He loves to take in that control and destroy you. Slowly and slowly one by one with your mouth to your jaw to your throat and down to your legs, destroyed.

☆ i think overstiumlation too. He enjoys seeing people grovel when he wins against them, so what if he likes seeing you beg for mercy and to come when he wins the little game of power play? He likes being in control of how much you orgasm and if you even get to - worry not, you will come in the end.

[thewitchblue]

"Jason, lovely?"

You called out. You had been looking for him for half an hour in the manor. He was a recent edition to the family, and he has been hidden himself away like a frightened animal. You were beginning to think he doesn't like you. He only showed up for patrol as Robin then hid away again. You didn't even know where he slept because he changed locations every night.

You really were defeated. You wanted to bond with him and show him the love he deserves, but he's nowhere. You wanted to cry, and you almost did, but Alfred pat your shoulder and told you to keep your head up. He would come to you, not the other way around.

You still sat down heavily with a frown. You didn't understand why he's avoiding you. Does he hate you? Does he resent you for taking him in? What did you do for him to hate you? You thought you had been welcoming when Bruce brought him home. Why is Jason so scared of you?

"I don't understand why he's avoiding me, Alfred. What did I do wrong?"

You knew Alfred didn't know either, but you needed to voice your sorrow. You were so saddened and defeated. All you wanted to do was bond with the little one, but he didn't seem to want to. He even cooks his own meals just to avoid the family.

Alfred walked up to you and softly said,

"You did nothing wrong, my dear. Master Jason will come to you in time, just as Master Bruce had to come to me after his parents' death."

You started to cry but waved off Alfred's comforting hand. You got up and walked away with a heavy heart and tear-filled eyes. You just want your baby to love you and accept you.

Little Jason watched from behind the corner, frozen in place. He thought he was doing the right thing by avoiding you both. He's only ever known adults who wanted to be left alone. He thought it was normal to stay out of the way to avoid dangerous situations with adults. He's learned noisy kids get tossed away, but does hiding do equal damage? Where is the median for you? How does he make you three happy? Jason didn't know what to do, but the more tears you shed, the worse he felt. He did this, but how does he fix it?

He hesitated before slowly approaching you. He truly did care about you. You are warm and loving despite knowing very little about him as a person. You took him in and loved him so easily. He didn't know what to do. Does he hug you? Does he talk to you? What won't get him thrown out? He doesn't want to anger you. He awkwardly shifted in place, uncertain and anxious.

You noticed him, but you were equally lost. Would he run away if you hugged him? You wanted to love him the way he deserves to be loved. You asked softly,

"Jason, sweet pea?"

Jason slowly nodded, as if he needed to confirm his identity or confirm he's real. You almost sobbed when you managed to coax him into a hug.

"Jason, my lovely, never hide from me."

You kissed the top of his head. You held him like he was going to disappear into thin air. He was overwhelmed by the love, but it was a good overwhelm. He felt warm and safe for the first time. Is this what a parent is supposed to be like?

You loved Jason so easily and openly. He was such a kind kid. You both grew incredibly close after that day.

The library was a safespace where Jason was free and comfortable to do anything, and you often spent time with him in the library as a result. Every time he needed an honest conversation with you, he asked,

"Can we speak in the library?"

That was that. You always obliged when he asked. Who can say no to tiny Jason? You couldn't resist his beautiful eyes and his hopeful expression.

He asked for the library talks even after his revival. He even shot Bruce in the abdomen for interrupting his library time (he claims by accident, but you knew better). He never apologised to Bruce or even to Alfred, who had to attend to the wound. In fact, he actually used the shooting as a distraction and left the manor. He talked to you after patrol and gave you some homemade cookies he made to make up for it. He didn't say anything, and neither did you, but he knew you weren't mad when you offered him a hug and ruffled his hair affectionately. He may be a giant now, but he's still your baby boy, and even Jason can admit you were babying.

He loves you, and he has shot many people that were in his way to your side. He was indiscriminate who he shot. Family and friends have long learned to avoid the library when Jason is suspected to be home. You say suspected because he can get in and out of the manor without ever being seen.

"Jason, lovely?"

You called out when you thought you noticed his shadow. He's built like your husband, so you can't be sure it's Jason from the glimpse you saw.

"It's me, ma."

He confirmed as he guided you to the library. His rough hand held yours gently as you both walked together. He's always loved holding your hand when he was nervous, and that seemed to persist into adulthood. You smiled warmly at him. You asked,

"To the library, lovely?"

He nodded and lightly squeezed your hand. His gaze never stopped scanning the area, as if his eyes were looking for any threats, aka snooping siblings. He needed to tell you something important or embarrassing and needed only you to hear about it.

When you do arrive at the library, he brings you to your usual spot next to all of the young adult books you bought for him through the years. You smiled and sat down at the familiar armchair while Jason stood awkwardly in front of you. He used to sit on your lap when he was younger and giggle when you showered him with kisses, but now he sits in the closest chair available or sometimes on the ground so you can run your fingers through his hair in a soothing motion.

"I'm seeing someone."

He managed to blurt out before quickly looking away from you. He was flustered and blushing, but he wasn't really ashamed. He was embarrassed. It was such a simple thing to say, but he couldn't help his flushed face.

"When do I get to meet this 'someone,' lovely?"

Jason nervously cracked his knuckles. He wants you to meet two-on-one, not the whole family. Your opinion matters the most out of everybody in the family.

"Does Saturday work?"

You took his hand in yours and lightly squeezed it with a warm smile. You said softly,

"Any time, lovely."

Jason breathed a slow sigh of relief. Hurdle one covered. He looked at your conjoined hands as he asked nervously,

"Can you keep this between us? We want to meet only you."

You smirked. With a mischievous gleam in your eyes, you said,

"It's library time. Nobody hears anything outside."

Jason smirked back at you. Oh, he loves you dearly. You offered him a hug, which he gladly accepted.

You held him like you always did, but the hug felt different now. It felt like a proud mother accepting the baby bird to fly and make a life for himself. Your arms promised love and security no matter what happens.

[justoneotherthing123]

We can discuss the minutiae of manipulation, but I feel like that's not going to be really productive because if you think that every act you do that influences others to do something you like is manipulation then we're just going to debate definitions and I don't care about that. So, alright, no nuance, no subtlety, just "manipulation is when you influence others."

Manipulation can be fine. In fact, manipulation is sometimes necessary.

Let's say you're working with Crochety Alex. Alex hates helping others. Alex thinks that there's Alex job and other people's jobs, and the two things shall never be mixed. The only way to make Alex help is to have a boss give Alex a direct order to help, at which point helping becomes Alex's job. This makes Alex a nightmare to work with.

Your job requires Alex to give you the McGuffin. What do you do, do you directly ask Alex to help you, just for Alex to ignore you, forcing you to repeat your questions again and again until it's been a month, you're late, your boss is angry, and you have to explain the problem and now Alex is furious too because Alex considers this "throwing Alex under the bus"? Or do you wait until the boss is in the room and, with a giant smile, go "oh, by the way Alex, for my project I need a McGuffin, which i believe is in your department. Would you be so kind to give it to me at your earliest convenience? Thank you so much," because you know that Alex will be more inclined to say yes and, most importantly, follow through, least the boss thinks that Alex is a bad worker?

If you have any sense you go with the second option, because that's the actually correct option in this case. You can avoid manipulation, or you can get the job done in time without ruining the day of a lot of people.

Now, change of scene. You're talking with a friend. You're thinking of ordering food. The friend proposes pizza. You propose burgers. The friend is totally okay with burgers, but they think that pizza is a better choice because of convenience. You don't want pizza. Instead of answering back with your own burger manifesto, or clearly saying, "I don't feel like having pizza," you keep trying to poke holes in your friend's reasoning for why pizza is the best choice. Your hope is that your friend will eventually relent and go with burgers. According to our definition, this is manipulation. But is it justified?

To answer your question, you have to see the context. Do you come from a culture that sees straight refusals as unacceptable? Does your friend normally refuse to accept a straight refusal on the basis of "I don't want to"? If the answer to either question is "yes," then you're justified. Do you think that a straight refusal will make your friend think less of you, even though they have never given you any indication that would happen? Do you want your friend to not just agree to get burgers, but actually agree with you that burgers are a better idea than pizza for no real reason other than because it's important to you that your friend sees you're correct? If the answer to either question is "yes," then the manipulation is not justified.

So, TL:DR - as a rule of thumb, If the person you're talking to should do something but doesn't feel like it, it's fine to manipulate them. If the person can't or shouldn't or sometimes even just wouldn't do something but you want them to because you feel like it, it's not fine to manipulate them.

there's a fine line between being wary of manipulation and becoming completely paranoid because you get very close to the realisation that pretty much all human interaction involves doing things we hope will lead to a result we like

[gotaksboyfie]

Hiiii ! I LOVE your work o(^o^)o

Can i request a go hyuntak fluff

real or fake?

gif creds: @billornot

pairing go hyuntak x gn reader

summary baku and his big mouth leads people to believe you and hyuntak are dating after a small misunderstanding. for some reason, hyuntak doesn't want to deny it?

word count 1.3k

warnings/tags fluff, no angst

it starts with baku walking in at the worst time possible.

you and hyuntak were in the library. you were helping him study for his upcoming quiz (he really needs it) when you noticed something.. moving in his hair?

"gotak, stay still for a second." you mutter. eyeing you suspiciously, hyuntak freezes in place.

you scoot closer to hyuntak and search his scalp, was it a bug or just a trick of light? you tug on hyuntak's collar to bring him closer and he lets out a small yelp of surprise.

"ow-! what was that for?" he scowls, scooting his chair closer. you're too busy focusing on finding what the fuck was in hyuntak's hair to notice baku entering the library, somehow missing the sound of this thunder stomps coming towards you.

"yah, yah, yah—! reader!" hyuntak pats your hand repeatedly to try and warn you to let go, but you're locked in on his scalp. you finally pluck it out, and it turns out it was just a small piece of loose fabric. huh.

you glance up to see baku staring at the both of you. flicking his eyes around, his jaw drops further and further down. he brings a staggered hand to point between you and hyuntack.

you stare at him with a mild look of confusion. it's not uncommon for baku to freak like this but literally what is there to—oh. you're still gripping hyuntak by the collar of his hoodie, and the two of you are still leaned towards each other.

to any normal passerby, it looks like you guys were about 0.5 milliseconds away from making out in the library. you quickly let go and shove hyuntak far away from you, creating a bit of distance and making hyuntak fall to the ground.

the damage is already done, though.

baku sputters, "you.. you and gogo!? i knew it, i fucking knew it! gogo you fucker, how long were you going to keep this a secret?"

hyuntak is still recovering from tumbling to the floor after you shoved him, clambering back to his seat. "what are you talking ab-"

"wow.. it's fine gogo, i'll go give you guys some. room," baku speeds out of the library, and you could've sworn he winked at you before leaving. you blink hard once, twice, and then sigh. putting your head in your hands, you start complaining to hyuntak.

"he thinks we're dating. he's going to tell everyone, gotak."

"just let them."

you freeze and look up slowly, an exasperated expression on your face.

"you really want to fake date to our friends? we're not in a fanfic."

hyuntak grins, "it'd be funny, no?"

your heart flutters at the idea of dating (albeit fake) hyuntak, and you can't find it in yourself to say no.

"what the hell, sure," you roll your eyes as you start to pack up your materials, missing the way hyuntak's face lights up at your words.

walking side by side, you and hyuntak make it outside to see baku, juntae, and sieun waiting for you two (more for hyuntak, but you tag along anyways). baku is talking almost animatedly, and juntae is following along nodding to his words. sieun is.. sieun—he's just there.

"look! there they are," baku shouts "how could we have missed it the whole time?"

juntae gasps with his eyes wide with surprise, "oh! i see it now!"

you scoff and walk towards juntae's side and baku immediately wraps his arms around hyuntak's shoulders. the five of you start walking towards your houses.

"how long has it been going on for?" juntae asks, "and how did it happen?"

baku pipes up from your left, "my sweet, sweet juntae, you don't ask a new and fresh couple that. give it time to marinate, let the relationship soak in a few weeks," he starts making odd motions with his hands, to which you grimace and turn away, making eye contact with sieun.

sieun's eyes stare into your soul, all-seeing and all-knowing.. you shudder and turn away, slightly scared of him. he reminds you of an owl, just constantly peering at you unblinking.

"s-sorry reader and hyuntak!" juntae stammers, embarrassed.

"don't let this dumbass baku get to your brain, it's fine." hyuntak reassures juntae. throughout the whole time, hyuntak was awfully silent. this was out of character for him and you wondered why.

spotting your street around the corner, you head home after saying your bye's to everyone. as you got home and freshened up, you began texting hyuntak.

you: wtf are we supposed to do now

hyuntak: i'm gonna be the best fake boyfriend ever, just watch

you: i don't think theres much of a competition in that field..

hyuntak: what the hell does that mean

you: how many people are fake dating each other dumbo

hyuntak: errr

hyuntak: still, lets make it believable! we got this

you: sure.. whatever you want ig

hyuntak: i don't like your tone

you: im Sooo sorry. yes i am so excited to make our fake dating thing very believable.....

hyuntak: yay :)

you: anyways goodnight, go get some beauty sleep. god knows you need it

hyuntak: shut up

hyuntak: goodnight, reader❤️

you stare at hyuntak's last message for far longer than you'd like to admit before going to sleep.

waking up groggily, you mentally prepare yourself for whatever hyuntak has planned. knowing him, you'll be dragged right into it.

opening the door to your classroom, you lock eyes with your friends swarming your desk immediately. you feel their gaze burning into you as you slowly approached your desk, only to see a strawberry milk carton with a note attached to it.

for you - gogo ♡

you blinked as you processed what the note read, and sat down before grabbing it and stuffing it into your pocket.

"we all saw it," donghyuck says blandly. "no point in hiding it now."

closing your eyes, you mentally cursed hyuntak as you thought of an excuse to make. you took in a deep breath—it was too early in the morning for this.

"earth to reader? you gonna explain yourself or..." beomgyu taps on your desk with his knuckles, making you open your eyes.

"well.. you see—" the sound of the door opening cut you off as your homeroom teacher stepped in, and you smiled as your friends scattered off to go back to their seats. saved by the bell, you laugh to yourself.

by the time lunch rolls around, you dart off to find hyuntak and avoid your friends' pestering. spotting him at the lunch tables, you push baku over slightly and start to whisper in his hyuntak's ear.

"we need to talk, follow me."

unfortunately nothing can be kept under wraps with baku around. he starts cackling like a madman, "poor gotakie is getting scolded right now!"

you shut him up with a glare, and pull hyuntak to a secluded part of the school.

"if we're gonna.. do this, shouldn't we like," you pause as you glance up, meeting hyuntak's gaze. you cough and look away, turning slightly pink as you continue. "shouldn't we lay some ground rules so we can keep up a fake backstory?"

hyuntak nods, "i was thinking we should just say we started dating a week ago, which is why we never told anyone."

that sounds believable, you think to yourself. "if anyone asks, you confessed to me while we were studying, okay?" it was hyuntak's idea, so he should be the one to 'confess' first.

agreeing on other ideas, the bell rings and you guys leave for class. you looked back at hyuntak once, but you missed how hyuntak had looked back twice.

you manage to evade most of the questions thrown your way throughout the rest of the day. curse baku and his loud mouth, practically all of eunjang knew at this point. your phone buzzed when school ended, and it was a text from hyuntak.

hyuntak: let's go on a fake date today :) wanna get some tteokbokki?

you: sure, see you at the school gates

fake this, fake that, wasn't this pushing it a little too hard? any more and you might start believing hyuntak actually likes you. (please, something in you hopes. maybe it wouldn't be so bad if he actually did)

fin

a/n my tumblr crashed halfway through writing this and i lost most of the story bc i forgot to hit save. i'm so sorry for the long wait 💔 remember to save your drafts guys (μ_μ) alsooo small cameos as your friends hehe :3

will definitelt do a part 2 when i have the time but i just wanted to get this out because its been rotting away in my drafts 😔

[iamthatonefangirl]

So I’m not completely sure how requests work but I NEED a fic where the reader like gets into an argument with the winter soldier about something small or big like how he never opens up to her (whatever you prefer) and then some HATE sex after (not really hate just frustrated yk)

disconnect - nsfw winter soldier

I received a few asks that inspired me to develop a story combining them. this is my interpretation of them.

pre-established relationship. if you're new here, there's a mention of a prior event.

disclaimer: fully consensual by both parties although not explicitly stated. dark/sad themes, similar to depictions of depression. read at your own discretion.

~~~

it's stupid, really.

the mud boot tracks all over the entryway when you get home. the huge disaster area the kitchen is.

is it really that difficult to not leave a mess everywhere?

you make your way to the bedroom and drop your bag somewhere on the floor, sitting on the edge of the bed to chuck off your shoes and jacket.

you sit there for a moment, head buried in your hands.

the weight of your situation gets to you more often than not. a lot of those thoughts in your head go unsaid for a number of reasons, particularly because he doesn't have the emotional capacity to care, in your opinion.

is this really the life you thought you'd end up living?

if you wanted to quit working, you could. he brings in more than plenty.

and you'd never have to worry about being sexually frustrated a day in your life.

is that really the sum total of your relationship?

you let out a sigh.

you feel stuck.

~~~

he comes into the bedroom ten minutes later, fresh out of the shower, covered in water from head to toe minus the towel wrapped around his waist.

he goes straight for the bed, lying down on the fresh sheets, soaking them.

"seriously?" you ask, looking up at him, exasperated at this point.

he tilts his head in your direction and gives you a blank stare as though he has no clue what you're talking about.

you take a deep breath and shove down your anger. he's been gone for a week, cut him some slack, you tell yourself.

"everything go okay?" you ask.

you don't want to know the gory details, and he wouldn't tell you, anyways. his face contorts, giving you a disgusted look as though you're crazy for even asking.

he proceeds to shove his hands behind his head, closing his eyes to get some rest.

another deep breath.

"are you hungry?" you offer. the mess in the kitchen tells you that he's not, but you're seriously trying here.

he lets out a low grunt, which you take to mean 'no.'

"can you stay awake for five minutes to fucking talk to me?" you say, anger rising in your chest as you struggle to keep your head straight.

"not talking to you about work," he grumbles, not even opening his eyes.

"clearly, you're not talking to me at all! fuck, I mean, when do you ever?" you yell, standing and walking over to the side of the bed next to where he's laying.

in your anger, you grab his arm and roughly yank it out from under his head, surprising him. his eyes shoot open and he glares up at you as though you've just personally offended him.

"you never fucking talk to me! I- I don't even know if you like me! it's like you just live in my apartment so you can fuck me whenever you want!" you yell at him. your emotions are getting the better of you, your insecurities and your anger twisting in your head. you're completely helpless to stop your mouth from speaking them into reality.

not a word in response. his face is completely devoid of any emotion.

"I don't even know why I expect anything different from you," you scoff. "you're a heartless motherfucker. you don't even care about me."

you feel so empty inside. all the sacrifices you've made, all the times you've cried over the fact that you can't just be normal, all because of what he does for a living, who he is.

all while having to stomach the nausea of simply knowing why you have to keep him a secret.

it's too much to deal with anymore.

he watches as you drag an empty duffel bag out of the closet and begin throwing various items of clothing inside it. it takes a few moments, but it finally clicks in his head: you're leaving. and he doesn't know when, or if, you'll be back.

he stands, grabbing your arm as carefully as he can, stopping you from continuing to pack. "no. stay," he tells you. he sounds so calm, his voice is void of its usual sternness.

he's only calm because he's panicking inside.

you take his calm demeanor to mean that he genuinely does not give a fuck.

"get off me. I'm leaving," you tell him, pulling your arm away from his grasp. that's all you can say, because that's all you know right now. you have no plans for where you're going or when you're coming back.

if you're coming back.

you shove a few more things in your bag as your eyes tear up.

what has your life come to?

~~~

the door slams behind you on your way out, shaking the whole apartment. eerie silence follows.

no sounds of pans clattering in the kitchen. no music blaring while you shower. no keyboard clicking while you work. no more of your laughing as you watch videos on your phone.

no more you.

all there is is dead silence.

he used to live in the silence. he took comfort in it; he'd be able to hear a threat coming from a mile away as long as he lived in the silence. it was his way of protection, his entire way of life.

it doesn't have that comforting effect anymore.

because now?

he's alone.

now, alone, in the silence he once reveled in, he roams the apartment in contemplation. he sees everything he didn't see before.

the mess he left everywhere, destroying the effort you put in every day to keep a tidy home.

but more importantly? he sees the disconnect. the stark contrast between your carefulness and his tendency to act as a bull in a china shop opens his eyes to reality.

he always saw you as a team.

but now?

he realizes that you're not.

you're normal. he isn't.

he never could be.

~~~

your best bet for now is to go to a friend's place, you think. you sob your eyes out as you sit in the driver's seat of your car, and you come up with a lie that's at least semi-believable.

you take a few deep breaths as you click her contact on speed-dial.

"hey, so you'll never believe my luck," you begin, trying to hide your sniffling from the microphone. "my building is infested with rats. I don't know how long it'll be until they've dealt with it. at least a week, probably. do you think I could spend a few nights at your place?"

your voice is choppy as you speak, and it's clear you've been crying, but she doesn't question it. she gives you the 'okay' to come over, and you hang up quickly before the tears start again.

that's how you end up sleeping on her couch that night, sobbing silently into your hoodie as you try to determine what the hell you're supposed to do now.

for so long, you've put up with his bullshit, kept his secret, kept your mouth shut, all for one reason: you love him.

but he's not capable of loving anyone.

~~~

for a while, the feeling of isolation doesn't bother him. all he feels is indifference.

yet as he finally cleans up after himself, the ache in his chest begins. he almost wonders if he's having a heart attack; he's never felt this before.

yes, he has.

he freezes in place, the memory coming to him. he injured you, once, purely by accident. that's when he's felt this helplessness, this emptiness, this deep-seated pain in his chest.

guilt?

he's not sure.

he kneels on the cold hard tile of the entryway, not bothering to put on longer pants or a towel to protect his knees as he wipes up the mud he tracked inside. he doesn't deserve that comfort.

he lays in bed alone that night, mind empty. sleep never finds him.

the following morning, before the sun has risen, he makes a decision.

he opens his bank account and navigates to the most recent transfer, forwarding it back to the sender with one message: deal's off. busy.

~~~

the next morning, you wake up, still feeling terribly nauseous. you look in the bathroom mirror to find your eyes are puffy and bloodshot from crying.

you never should've gotten involved with a cold-hearted killer.

every bone in your body is saying to leave. get out of New York, quit your job, leave him and this whole life behind.

instead, you make a cup of coffee and force some yogurt down your throat before going to work.

you're up early, and don't care to deal with the traffic driving further into the city, so you might as well take the train.

~~~

he has absolutely no clue where you are.

he knows none of the addresses of your friends where you might have gone, not even a single one of their names.

if you didn't have to work, he wouldn't even be sure that you were still in the state.

work.

he doesn't even know the address of your workplace. he has a vague sense of the name of the company, how hard can it be to find?

so that's where he starts.

he camps out down a side street near your office, giving him a narrow field of vision to the entrance while staying hidden. it's the end of the workday, you should be coming out soon.

normally, scouting out a target is easy. he takes a short amount of time to watch them, determine their routines, and find the best course of action to take them out in the most efficient way possible.

there's always a plan, an end goal there. here?

he has no plan. there is no end goal.

for now, he needs to know where you're staying. so he watches and waits for you to come out of the one place where he can count on being able to find you.

he's not prepared for the pang of some unfamiliar emotion that he feels when he sees you come out of the building. you look exhausted; clearly, you didn't sleep last night, same as him.

you still look perfect.

he assumes you're heading to the parking lot, and he realizes he didn't think this far ahead. he doesn't have a fucking car, how is he supposed to follow you to find out where you're going?

he would never make this kind of bullshit mistake on a job.

he's scanning the area, trying to find the most inconspicuous car he can find that he thinks he might be able to hotwire-

you walk right past the parking lot.

he begins to trail you from across the street, mind working through all the possible answers as to where you're going. for now, his focus is keeping his eyes on you at all times.

he refuses to acknowledge the way his chest hurts even more as he follows you down the street and into the train station.

he hates when you take the train, hence why you always drive. to him, the train isn't safe. there's too many variables, too many things could go wrong. today, though, it works to his advantage.

all he can do for now is get on the train car behind you and wait to see where you get off at.

~~~

you're so tired, it's probably for the best you didn't drive today, lest you wanted to accidentally total your car by falling asleep at the wheel.

you want nothing more than to go home to him.

you don't. you get off the train and walk into the first bar you see.

it's after the workday, just past 6pm on a Tuesday, so it's packed, full of both blue- and white-collar workers in need of a drink.

you sit at the bar with the rest of the men as you all contemplate your life choices. you drink way too much, consuming more alcohol than is safe for you to have in your system while walking back.

oh well.

as you walk in the darkness, your head feels heavy, your body warm from the alcohol. you're being reckless, you know you are.

you don't have it in you to care. you feel like your entire life is being ripped apart at the seams, and it's all your fault. you're aware of the reality; you shouldn't ask for more than he can give. that's not fair to him.

no. this isn't fair to you.

~~~

he hates every fucking second of this. you're acting stupid, putting yourself in danger, getting drunk in public while operating under the assumption that you're all alone on these dark streets.

is this how you feel every day? do you feel alone even when he's there?

is he nothing more than a nuisance to you, a reminder of all your fears and all your lost dreams rolled into one?

at least he knows he's there to protect you.

to him, you were his savior.

but to you, he's nothing more than a ball and chain around your ankle.

his chest grows even tighter.

once you get inside the place you're apparently staying at, he relaxes somewhat. you're inside, you're safe.

that means nothing to him. to him, you're only safe within the confines of your own home. you're only safe when you're with him.

does he make you feel unsafe?

he finds another dark alley to hole up in. he's not going anywhere, not going home, not sleeping until you've got this figured out.

~~~

days go by. he learns your friend's schedule, learns the area, learns that you're drinking every day after work.

he knows he doesn't have the right to approach you. he'd lose you for good if he did, he thinks.

except on the fourth day of you being gone, after all these sleepless nights of him sitting on the cold, hard ground, you don't go into work. he watches your friend leave, but not you.

something's wrong.

in the back of his head, he hears your voice from your fight, if he could even call it a fight, saying,

"I don't even know if you like me!"

"you don't even care about me."

the words float around his mind, amplifying the tightness in his chest by 100 times.

that's it. he's done waiting, done watching you like you're a target, done pretending like you're both not miserable. he's done pretending he doesn't care.

~~~

you don't go into work on Friday.

you've spent all week ignoring your problems, ignoring the nausea in your stomach, drinking so much alcohol that you're lucky you don't pass out in the street, alone.

it's time to make a decision.

you don't get up from the couch until mid-morning, getting up to take a shower before heading to the kitchen to make a cup of coffee.

as you finish preparing your drink, staring down into the mug, you think you hear something in the distance. but the noise is so faint, you attribute it to your lack of sleep and food. you're fine, there's nothing there.

you hear it again, louder this time, and you turn towards where you hear the noise coming from-

from behind you, a hand slips over your mouth, and an arm wraps itself around your waist. you're about to panic when you hear the figure speak,

"it's me."

you let yourself relax against him. he scared the absolute shit out of you, making you fear for your fucking life, but you don't care. he's here.

but then your anger returns with a vengeance.

you put all your weight into throwing yourself forward, out of his grasp, and he lets go.

"how dare you!" is the first thing you say, and then you turn to face him.

woah.

if you thought you looked like shit from lack of sleep, it was nothing compared to how he looked.

you pause your yelling at him for a moment to take in the fact that he looks so tired he might be ready to collapse, that he looks like he hasn't showered or eaten in days.

you push past your worry and begin again, your anger boiling over as you continue yelling.

"how do you know I'm here? have you been fucking following me?"

he forces himself to speak.

"yes."

you scoff. of course he has.

"I'm not a child! I'm a fully grown adult, James!" you yell.

"then why the hell have you been acting like you're a goddamn child?" he yells back.

you've never heard him raise his voice like this before.

"you could have gotten yourself killed. you're lucky I was there. you did everything wrong, against how I taught you to keep yourself safe!"

your entire body is vibrating with the range of emotions you feel right now. you're so pissed off at him, but you've finally gotten him to speak to you. you hate that he's been watching you like his prey all week, but it means that maybe, in his eyes, you're worth losing sleep over.

you both stand there for a minute as you delay responding. your hair is soaking through your pajama shirt, which you realize as you stand there, is one of his t-shirts. your coffee is spilled everywhere from when he startled you, the mug flipped on its side on the counter.

you try to gather your thoughts to respond. you end up coming back to the one thing that you haven't been able to forget about all week, the one thing that breaks your heart more than any of it.

"you didn't even fight for me," you say quietly. you do everything in your power to take deep breaths, blinking your eyes quickly to stop the tears in their wake. "you didn't even fight for me to stay. you just let me go."

you give him the benefit of the doubt when he doesn't respond immediately. you know he needs to gather his thoughts.

you wipe your eyes a few times, listening to the silence, just praying that you mean enough to him that he'll respond.

"I'll never make that mistake again."

you've missed him so much, even in your rage and despair, that those words are all the reassurance you need to hear from him. he steps closer to you, slowly, waiting for your permission to approach.

you take in his appearance once more. he clearly hasn't eaten or slept in days, and he looks dirty. you connect the dots in your head: he hasn't even gone home, hasn't left your side once all week.

the idea of him following you all week pissed you off only minutes before. but now?

your tears spill from your eyes as you wrap your arms around his neck, embracing him as though he's your entire world.

he's never felt as relieved as he does when you cling to him. the aching in his chest finally begins to dissipate for the first time in a week.

you may be in some random apartment, but he's finally home.

he wraps his arms around your waist and picks you up. you get the hint and wrap your legs around his hips, holding onto him as he walks you over to the couch you've spent the last few days crying on.

he lays you down and begins to peel his shirt from your body, revealing every inch of your beautiful skin to him.

he knows has to show you how sorry he is, the only way he knows how.

he adjusts your positioning so you're sitting face forward on the couch, legs dangling over the edge, and he spreads your thighs as he gets to his knees in front of you.

it about takes your breath away.

this man, who is so possessive over you, so afraid of showing even a sliver of weakness or vulnerability, so against the idea of giving up any form of power, is on his knees for you in apology.

you know this isn't easy for him. this is the biggest display of trust you think you've ever seen from him, and your fears about not meaning anything to him begin to disappear.

you're the most important thing in his life. he wishes he had the words to tell you that.

he wraps his hands around the back of your knees, bringing you closer to him, and he pushes his tongue between your legs so softly.

his mouth is wet, and warm, and he hasn't eaten in days, but he'd rather you be the only thing he tastes for the rest of his life, anyways.

a few more involuntary tears spill from your eyes as he laves his tongue over you. you feel so sensitive, the combination of lacking his touch for so long and the emotion behind his actions is making you so much more conscious of his every movement.

he buries his tongue in you over and over again like it's his only mission in life.

he feels the entire lower half of his face, having gone unshaved for the last week, is soaked, covered in you. he hopes he leaves you with a mild rug burn between your thighs so you feel him for days afterwards.

you're so perceptive to his every move, you feel it distinctly when he begins to trace shapes over your clit.

A, E, S is all you make out.

James.

he's writing his name on your skin with his tongue.

you let out a whimper when you realize it, and your gentle hold on the back of his head tightens, pulling his face closer against your cunt.

"James," you whisper as he begins to work you faster, "please."

that's all it takes for him to push you over the edge. your thighs close on either side of his head, and he can mostly hear the way you whine his name as you come for him.

you barely have a second to relax your muscles before he's crowding you on the couch, repositioning you so you're laying underneath him.

his mouth begins to attack your neck, your rules against him putting hickeys on your neck be damned. and you gladly let him, you don't care right now.

he takes no time at all to shove the fabric of his pants out of the way, wrapping your legs around his hips once more, pushing himself down into you.

"fuck," you whisper at the stretch.

he continues his assault on your neck, marking you up and down all the way to your breasts, anywhere he can reach.

he bites back a groan every time you moan so perfectly, filling his ears, repeating his name every few thrusts.

but there's still something in the back of his head he needs you to know.

he doesn't stop, doesn't quit fucking you so beautifully as he brings his mouth to your ear.

"of course I like you," he admits so quietly, and his tone makes it sound like it's the most obvious thing in the world. you're brought back to the other night when you expressed your deepest vulnerabilities to him, and now, he's making up for what he should have told you then. "and of course I care about you."

you clutch him against you as tight as humanly possible until you're both letting yourselves go, feeling the comforting warmth as he releases inside you.

his body gives out, collapsing on top of you, exhausted from the physical and emotional toll of the week.

you finally feel tired too, more so than you have all week. it's as though your body is finally poised to truly rest now that he's with you again.

you can't sleep yet.

"take me home, James," you whisper, and he doesn't hesitate.

~~~

(guys as I'm writing this I'm about to cry)

yeah so I think I spent about six hours on this total y'all

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[anonf1writer]

“but please shut up” — ln4

summary: from the SINGLE PARENT UNIVERSE and based on THIS request, I present to you 2k words about the moment Yn first said the three words to Lando, and then told him to shut up (or something like that). reader x lando norris (use of Yn, yes) word count: 2k

NOTE¹: as a fic writer AND reader, i'm aware of the whole AI talk that's been going around. and as i was writing this, i realized how the thing that pisses me off the most about this whole thing, is how the use of dashes (—) became synonym of the use of AI. because i LOVE using dashes. i think they look beautiful and they tell things in a different way. the pause it's different. the information after one dash or between two dashes feels different. so i overuse them naturally. bc i love them. but now any time i add one, i take it back. bc i dont want to be associated with the use of AI. and the more i do it, the more it pisses me off. bc i want to be able to use my dashes. my writing might suck. i might be the worst around here. but i WANT to use my dashes. so please don't take my dashes away from me okay? ok. thank you.

NOTE²: so yeah, that being said, i went back and added a few. and that's it. <3

──────────────────

Yn and Lando had been dating for no longer than six months when the words finally slipped out of her mouth. 

It was a Saturday morning. A sunny one, to be precise. One of those rare occasions that normally meant peeling Olivia away from the TV and getting her ready for a picnic at the park, or for riding a bike, or for doing just any activity that allowed them to soak the sun as much as possible. 

On that particular Saturday morning, though, the clear sky wasn’t the only rare thing happening in London.

For starters, Yn wasn’t at her place, but at Lando’s apartment. Something that had never happened before. Not in the morning, at least. Not as a result of spending the night there. 

Then, of course, because she wasn’t at her place, there was also the fact that Olivia wasn’t there, with her. Instead, her sister had taken Olivia to Bristol so she could spend a fun weekend with her cousins. And so Yn and Lando could have some time alone. 

So, yeah, of course—things were different that morning. 

And yes, maybe she could have sensed that something else would happen, something she didn’t see coming because it also normally never happened. 

But she didn’t.

All she did was wake up wrapped in Lando’s arms, kiss him good morning, and drag herself out of bed. On her way across the bedroom, she grabbed one of his hoodies and put it on. Warm, oversized, and smelling like him. Exactly how she liked it. 

Once she made it to the kitchen, the space opened into sunlight and sleek surfaces. Fancy. Clean. Organized. Looking not even one bit like the messy home she owned. With no crayons forgotten on the table, no mermaids and unicorns in the mugs and cups and plates, no colorful drawings stuck to the fridge. And yet just as comfortable and cozy in its own Lando Norris’ way. 

It made her smile, for some reason. A smile that she kept on her face while trying to decide what to make for breakfast, and that only grew bigger when Lando finally joined her in, wrapping his arms around her waist and resting his chin on her shoulder while she cracked four eggs into a small bowl. 

“Hmm, you look really nice in my kitchen,” he murmured, his morning voice sending chills down through her spine. “Wearing my clothes… Smelling like me…”

She tilted her head slightly at that, leaning into his curls as he kissed her neck and just settled there, keeping up with her movements. With the whisking of the eggs and the soft clink of the fork echoing in that quiet morning. 

Yn could tell Lando was happy with that setting, with spending the morning together after also having spent the night together. Something they couldn’t really do very often, considering she still wasn’t ready to add him into Olivia’s routine like that. Not without making sure—making fully, fully sure—that this wasn’t just a temporary thing for him. That he was staying in for good, and that he was actually willing to have a role not just in her life, but also in her daughter’s life. 

Which, to be honest, was becoming more and more easy to see as time went by. 

Like when he stepped away to grab the milk from the fridge and very casually asked, “Talked to Liv yet?”

“Not yet,” Yn said, then waited until he had splashed a bit of the milk into the small bowl to keep going. “Told my sister I’d give them a call after breakfast.” 

She sprinkled in a pinch of salt and went back to whisking, meanwhile Lando got himself busy by grabbing a pan and dropping a knob of butter into it. 

“I hope she’s having fun,” he said, distracted as he switched on the hob and placed the pan above the humming heat. “Y’know, I was thinking about what it’d be like to take her to the beach.” 

Yn paused. 

She paused and stared at the bowl in front of her. 

And Lando laughed. And the butter sizzled gently. And then the smell of it filled the space. Warm. Comforting. 

“Sandcastle chaos, for sure,” he added.

Still chuckling. 

Still nonchalant. 

As if mentioning he had been thinking about her daughter and about how it would be to spend time with her didn’t bring this funny feeling to her chest. As if it wasn’t a big deal. As if it was normal. 

Yn swallowed.

When it came to Lando, to be fair, it actually wasn’t weird. Because he did that a lot—dropping how much he cared in the most subtle, random ways. In the little things. 

But this morning, for some reason, it seemed to happen more than usual. 

He did it again, for instance, as they were sitting around the small table and having breakfast. As he was telling her about these new clothes he had bought online. Casually, randomly. Just by asking, “Purple’s her favourite, right?” 

To which Yn furrowed her brows and mumbled a simple, “huh?” 

“Liv’s.” He scraped the fork against his plate, gathering the scrambled eggs, and shrugged. “I saw these really cute tiny trainers that made me think of her.” He scooped up the food and shoved it inside his mouth. But he didn’t stop, he just chewed as he talked, muffling the words. “They were… Mmph… Puh’pul… Yeah… Puh’pul’s her fav’rite… Innit?”

 “I— Yeah. Purple’s her favourite color, yeah.”

He smiled, swallowed and nodded, all proud of himself. 

“I knew it.” He took a sip of coffee, then focused on the beans still left on his plate. “Didn’t get them though…” He shoved the fork back into his mouth. Words mumbled as he chewed again. “Didn’know’er size, so… Oh!” He swallowed and shuffled on his seat. “Shit.” He coughed, choking a little around the food that had gone down his throat. “Um… Just remembered… Did I tell you about this… About this new idea we had for the next collection? I didn’t, did I?” 

“I don’t think so, no.”

“Right. Yeah. So, listen to this…” 

And so he rambled about something else. 

And Yn listened. 

Trying to absorb as much as possible. Trying to understand. Trying to make sense. 

But then, as they were putting the dishes in the sink and talking about the next few weekends and how busy his schedule would be, he did it again. 

He brought her up again.

“I’ll try to come home as much as I can,” he said, “but y’know, if you ever want to come to a race one day, I’d love to have you there. Not just you, but Liv, too. Like, not now, of course, but later, when you’re ready. I’d like that.” 

And like a cherry on top, while Yn had her hands submerged in warm soapy water, he asked, “Hey, is it weird if I frame that little drawing Liv made the other day?”

Yn stopped.

And blinked at the plate she had in hands. 

“The one she said was for good luck?” Lando added, pacing in the kitchen. Not in a nervous way, but in that very particular excited version of him. Full of caffeine. Hair sticking up in three different directions. Hands moving along with his words. Babbling. 

Always babbling.

“Or maybe not frame it but put it on the fridge or… I don’t know… Something. Somewhere I can always see it… Y’know? Would that be weird?” 

She blinked again.

“Because I won’t if it’s weird… Don’t want to make it weird…”

Eyes still fixed on the dish in her hand, she mumbled, “Lando…” 

“I mean I don’t know what the protocol is here… I know you said you wanted to take things slow when it comes to her, and I totally get it… I mean you know way better than I do, so I trust your judgment… It’s just that she’s so great, y’know? And that drawing is so cute. It’s been back and forth with me for weeks now, but I wanted to check with you because I—”

“For the love of God!” She dropped the sponge and the plate and turned around, water dripping from her fingers as she glared at him. “Can you just—I mean… Lando I swear, I love you so much, but can you just please shut the fuck up for a moment?”

Lando stopped. 

No. Lando froze.

Mid-step. 

Not even looking at her.

Just.. Hand reaching into the cabinet. Eyes fixed ahead. Blinking to the clean tableware. 

And Yn didn’t even notice, so she just sighed. Loudly. Dropping her shoulders. Grabbing a tea towel to wipe her hands. And then trying again.

“Sorry. I don’t mean like, shut the fuck up, but just… Y’know, give me a minute to think? You’re like… Nonstop right now! Just going on and on and on about Livie and it’s just—”

“What did you say?”

Yn looked at him.

He was still facing away, still frozen on the spot.

“That you’re going on and on about—” 

“No. Not that.” He dropped his arms to his sides and turned towards her. “Before.”

Yn frowned, searching inside her head for whatever she could’ve said that made him look like that right now—pale, shocked, terrified. On the verge of freaking out.

“I don’t—”

“Love me,” Lando murmured. “You said you love me.”

“What?”

“You said,” —he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, as if gathering the strength to say the words— “Lando I love you so much but can you please shut the fuck up.”

“Oh.”

“You said you love me.”

“Shit, Lan…”

She stepped forward, and he stepped backward. 

“Nuh-uh.” He raised one finger and pointed it at her. “Nope. Stay there.”

Her lips tugged up.

“Babe… C’mon.”

“You love me.”

She tilted her head. “Mhm.”

Lando dropped his arm.

Then opened his mouth, then closed it again. 

And then he looked away, dropping his posture like he had just been punched in the stomach.

“Holy shit,” he said. “I didn’t—I wasn’t—wow. Wow. Ok. Okay. Yeah. That’s—That’s just… I mean, did you—You really meant that?”

Yn laughed. 

“Lando…” She dropped the tea towel on the counter and took a step forward, a tiny one. Just to make sure she could. “Baby. Just breathe, okay? You’re sweating.”

“I’m not—” He raised his arms, checking underneath. And then he shook his head. “Maybe, who knows. That’s not the point.”

“Then what’s the point?” she tried, softly this time. Stepping just a bit closer.

“That you love me.”

“Mhm.” Standing in front of him, she placed her hands on his chest and nodded. “So? You’ll get used to it.”

Lando snorted and looked at her, his own hands instantly finding her waist. Almost involuntarily. As if they belonged there. As if it was the only natural reaction when having her so close to him. 

“You knew this would freak me out, didn’t you?”

He pulled her closer, and when she nodded, she also smirked at him.

“Of course I did. Been holding myself from saying it out loud for a while now.” 

He flinched at that, chin and head jerking back slightly. “Why would you ever do that?”

“Really?” She laughed and slid her hands up his chest, then up his shoulders and neck, until she was able to link her fingers through the short curls on the back of his head. “Did you see your reaction just now?”

Lando shrugged and stepped forward, slotting his feet with hers and crossing his arms around her waist. Getting rid of the little distance between them. “Just because I’m weird and freak out like this doesn’t mean that I… Y’know… That I don’t… I mean I just…”

She nodded and hunched herself forward, kissing his cheek before landing back on her feet. 

“I know. I know you do, babe. So whenever you’re ready. That’s okay.”

He sighed and leaned down, pressing his forehead against hers. 

“I’m gonna wait until you least expect it. Freak the hell out of you, too.”

Yn laughed and arched forward, barely lifting off her heels as she reached for a kiss.

Lando reacted quickly, closing his eyes and kissing her back.

And then, around his lips, she murmured, “Bring it on, babe. I dare you.” 

──────────────────

[lorddeathofmurdermountain]

I feel like I'm missing something... Isn't stuff like "takes pictures of her latter" an issue for these guys predominantly because of the stereotype of what kind of person you'd have to be to take pictures of your latte? Like bear with me, as a bi person, I'd never date a dude who regularly posts about cars not because I think this is bad in and of itself but because it presents a different issue - most car dudes are gonna ask you something about car specs and have this smug look of superiority when they realize you have no damn clue about what the shit they're saying, be you a man or woman. And I don't want that. I don't wanna risk encountering that. It'd be annoying.

Like, girls with cat ear headphones? They tend to love cutesy things, in that very specific way, and IN MY EXPERIENCE (could be very wrong) tend to have an infantilizing view of their own gender ("girl math", "I'm such a stupid girl", "girls can't know [Man Thing]" etc). In America, brightly colored hair has become (probably unfairly) associated with strong activism and niche views like being an anarchist or socialist.

What I'm saying is, sure, these CAN be dumb, but that's not necessarily always the case - it COULD be about preference or some other incompatibility that's being accounted for ahead of time. And I'd assume equivalents of your "egotistical manchild" and other mentioned criteria is, you know, kind of a given? At the end of the day the simpler reasons to not date someone are always more interesting and descriptive of your preferences bc no shit you're not gonna date some woman who always demands to check your phone or some guy who can't stop bragging about his generational wealth. Those are very normal and typical boundaries and thus not really worth the effort to list seriously, so it's more efficient to immediately move onto the small stuff.

At least, that's how I've always thought of it. Idk I don't have a lot of guys I hang out with and we never talk about dating.

The longer I exist as a loudly proudly gay man the more I think that cishet men aren't actually attracted to women.

[brawberryz]

⎯⎯ㅤ Digital Girl

Batfam Yan! × Scene! Reader

| Platonic |

Note / English is not my first language / M.list

A / N | I don't know much about scenecore so this is just a very superficial view, if there are any mistakes please correct me (|||´Д｀) !!

TW / Yandere behavior, obsession, violence, toxic relationships, manipulation

Headcanon | How would they react to a scenecore batsis?

Character | Dick Grayson | Jason Todd | Tim Drake | Damian Wayne | Bruce Wayne

⎯ Bruce Wayne ★

He'd be surprised the first time.

Don't take this the wrong way, it's just...well, he's pretty new to all of this.

He tries to be an understanding father, but I feel like he'd be the kind of father who'd say it's all a phase; he just hopes this phase of yours doesn't last too long.

He's not a strict father (well, maybe a little, or maybe too much), but he wants you to understand that it's best for you.

He wouldn't like you to wear too many bracelets or bangles on your arms because he's afraid your skin would get irritated or leave marks.

He'd never forgive himself if something happened to his baby.

If you tried to dye your hair, his hair would be a big no-no.

He'd only let you dye your hair if you begged him all week and told him to let him choose the color and let him dye your hair.

There wouldn't be any problems with your way of dressing, although it would depend on how colorful and extravagant your outfits are.

Most of your family tends to wear dull, muted colors. You could only occasionally see Dick in a brightly colored shirt, but most preferred duller or less flashy colors.

That way, you'd definitely draw a lot of attention with your outfits.

If you two ever go to a gala, he WON'T let you dress like that. Look, he doesn't judge you (even if he does).

But he thinks you should find another, less flashy "style." He loves you the way you are, but sometimes he wishes you were as obedient as other young people.

He's afraid that at some point you'll become rebellious and escape his complete control.

He should, no, he needs to control everything about your life.

Even your style of clothing. He just wants you to be a normal child.

He knows how cruel the world is to people as different as you.

He's just in some kind of midlife crisis, and your teenage "rebellion" isn't helping much.

He'll get over it eventually

⎯ Dick Grayson ♥︎

He'd be the one who best handled this.

I get the idea that Dick also went through some emo or alt phase, so he's pretty understanding about this.

Most of your accessories, like bracelets and makeup, were bought or made by Dick.

He likes to sneakily create bracelets with his initials on them so others know who you are.

Even though he pretended to be a cool brother, he's just as possessive as the others.

Just because he was "nice" to you doesn't mean he won't manipulate you.

He'd take any opportunity to be around you.

Oh! You want to dye your hair? Don't worry, your brother Dick conveniently has the color you wanted!

You can dye your hair like him and match with him! He's the kind of guy who's very obsessed with your tastes.

He wants to be the best brother to you, so don't be scared because he's too intense.

Also, I think he'd listen to hyperpop just for you. It's not his type of music, but he'd just listen to it to spend time with you.

He's not the best, but at least he tries, umm...

⎯ Jason Todd ♣︎

He doesn't really care.

He'd be like,

"Oh, you're scene? Cool."

One of the things he'd be least bothered by is your clothing style or appearance.

I mean, as long as you don't do anything stupid, he wouldn't mind.

Although I think he'd buy hair dye in all sorts of colors and literally turn your hair into a fucking rainbow, just to piss off Bruce because he knows you're not allowed to dye your hair without Bruce's permission.

He'd kill anyone who dares say anything negative about you or make fun of how you dress.

He wouldn't allow any bastard to talk bad about his sister.

He'd listen to hyperpop while reading or doing some activity like reading or kicking criminals' asses. I think it would be pretty funny.

He'd probably only listen to it because you asked him to, but I think eventually he'd start to like that style of music, but he'd never say it out loud

⎯ Tim Drake ◆

He'll pretend he doesn't care, but he really cares.

I could say he's one of the most obsessive people; he knows everything about you.

Maybe he knows you better than you know yourself; he has a folder full of your interests or possible interests in a private file on his computer.

He'll spend hours on the internet searching for information about it. If he wants to get close to you, he has to be smart.

He's like a predator.

He analyzes his prey and then attacks.

I think his approach would be subtle. It has to be smart and not too aggressive. He doesn't want to scare you into thinking he's some kind of creepy guy (if he is).

I think he would start slowly, with small comments about your appearance.

"Oh! You look pretty nice today!" or "That shirt really matches your outfit!"

Then, make comments about your interests, and he'd start getting closer and closer to you. He's not like the others.

If he wants to have you in his hands, he'll have to do it slowly and calmly. He's very good at hiding his true intentions.

I think he'd spend hours trying to find the best hair dye for you. He doesn't want your hair damaged because you decided to buy a poor-quality one.

Also, if you want to take a picture, don't worry! He'll be your personal photographer.

He takes the best photos on your blog. He's always taking pictures of you secretly. I'm pretty sure he knows all your good sides.

The only reason he's interested in all of this is because of you.

He'll do anything to be near you, even if it means changing all his interests to match yours.

⎯ Damian Wayne ♣︎

He thinks it's ridiculous.

He'd make pretty offensive comments saying you look like a clown or some kind of Joker Jr.

He'd be the worst when it comes to this; he doesn't know what's so interesting about dressing like a walking rainbow.

Be prepared for the mockery and passive-aggressive comments (though they're more aggressive than passive).

Even if he'd eventually accept it, halfway.

Sure, he'd still think it's completely ridiculous and pathetic, but he'd only accept it because it's you (and deep down, he thinks some of your outfits are pretty cool).

But he still WON'T ALLOW anyone to make fun of the way you dress.

you still remember the time he got suspended for a week from school for hitting on a kid who said your way of dressing was stupid

He's the only one allowed to make fun of your ridiculous way of dressing.

Also, I think he'd be drawn to your bracelets and shoes, if you're the kind of people who wears those long shoes, I think he'd really like them.

He'd indirectly ask you to give him one of your bracelets because he thinks they're pretty. Maybe he'd give you some accessories like colorful belts or a hair accessory.

He'd really pay attention to your makeup; depending on how colorful or extravagant your makeup is, he'd like it.

He secretly listens to the music you recommend. No kidding, some of it is actually quite good, so he even put it on his playlist.

He's more or less supportive of all this. He's grateful that his jokes about your appearance have lessened.

Although he'll most likely continue to make jokes about your appearance when he gets bored of being a good person.

Hi, I'm back.

Sorry for not updating for so long. My health has been getting worse for weeks, and I've only recently recovered.

This is a late request, so I hope the anonymous person who requested this enjoys it.

I don't know when I'll update again because it's exam time and school is really giving me a hard time. Lolololol

[pineapplecrushface]

fifty sentences friday! i had a buck brainstorm and couldn't stop thinking about it. roommates era wip, immediately after 8x18.

-

“I really thought you’d be happy me and Chris were back,” Eddie said. “You were so pissed off when I left. What’s with you?”

“Look,” Buck said. “I had to…grow up sometime, I guess. I put too much on you and Chris. When you left, I got a reality check. That’s all. I’m glad you’re back, so glad. But I can’t live with you, because you and Chris, I’m your friend. Best friend, maybe. But I’m not your family, and I was treating you that way. It wasn’t fair to you. That’s why I was so upset when you left, but I—I got it figured out now. I'm good."

Eddie’s hands immediately went to his hips, nostrils flaring. “You saying you’re not family?”

“N-no. We’re all family, Eddie, but we—” He gestured between the two of them. “We are not a family. We’re friends. We’re there for each other. But if you and Chris need to leave again, you wouldn’t take me with you. And that’s normal, for friends.”

“Great.” Eddie shoved his fingers through his hair and started to pace in a little circle away from Buck. “Great. You always—do this. You get upset about not being the most important, and you decide to take off first so everyone will talk you out of it.”

Buck sagged against the counter. “Eddie, I’m not being dramatic, and I don’t want you to talk me out of it. There’s not even enough room in your house for me.”

“Yes, there is,” Eddie snapped, glaring at him over his shoulder.

“Where?” Buck threw his hands up. “Do I get to sleep on your couch forever? Cook you breakfast every day as a—as a reward for getting to stay? Beg for treats?”

Eddie stilled. “You should leave.”

“I am,” Buck said.

“No, now," Eddie said. "You don't like being here? Get out then."