#i know his eyes are usually blue or brown but i have a special interest in pitch black irises hi

[gem1ny]

Doll

hi do people still use tumblr

[sports-on-sundays]

I’m sorry Ik request are closed but o really need a part 2 of Lando and Oscar

one for two / LN4 & OP81 / Part 2

Summary: Lando x female!Australian!McLaren marketing unit worker!reader x childhood best friend!Oscar - The drama ensues. Two Formula 1 drivers who just so happen to race for McLaren also just so happen to have fallen for you. Picks up straight after where part 1 left off. Takes place from Monaco GP 2024 to Spanish GP 2024. Short time frame, but a lot happens.

Warnings: mention of vomiting, crying, "I'll kill you" joke, swearing, very slight innuendo, if I missed anything let me know

Requested?: Yes, by this anon, everyone who answered in the poll in a way, and by @gracielukey

Author's Note: Fret not, I will be writing a part 3!

“Wait, Y/n, one second-” you hear behind you as a hand wraps itself around your arm. You look back to see Oscar Piastri beaming at you with a smile worth a ton of gold on his face. He’s out of his race suit and now back in regular street clothes: a black t-shirt, blue jeans, and an expensive black watch on his wrist. “I still haven’t given you your birthday gift yet.”

Oh, yeah, that’s right.

Earlier, when both McLaren boys had snatched each of your hands, pulling you in separate directions, both thoroughly excited to show you whatever gift they’ve gotten for you for your birthday, which just so happens to be today, the Monaco Grand Prix, you had shook them both off and waved them on to go do their PR duties.

For once in your life, as someone who is in marketing in McLaren, you got to do a fraction of your actual job concerning the two drivers, and not play the part of both their dramatic love interest.

Yet here you are again, looking back at a handsome Australian boy with earnest brown eyes, waiting for you to come with him so you can see your present.

You sigh, smiling. “Alright, Oscar. Show me this present of mine.”

He leads you to his driver’s room, where he holds the door for you to follow him in, and gently shuts it.

You have a jolting memory of the last time you were led into a driver’s room and the door was shut behind you, and the driver was saying he had something for you. It had been Lando’s driver’s room in Miami, after he won the race, and, well, you’ll never forget what the gift he had for you had been.

Lando’s kiss.

Though it didn’t really change anything at all, it seemed to change absolutely everything.

And now, just standing here, watching Oscar rummage around in his piles and bags of contained mess, you can’t help yourself from blushing as the memory floods back to you.

Oscar snaps you out of your dreams, though, when he straightens, holding up a small box that fits in his palm and a white envelope, and says, “Here… Don’t know if it’s your type of thing, but…”

“Jewelry?” you raise your eyebrows, eyeing the box.

He nods. “I don’t see you wearing jewelry a whole ton, but I thought you might really like this, regardless.”

You smile. “Usually I save it for special occasions, but I like wearing jewelry. Now, let’s see this card here…” He hands it to you, and you open it up. Oscar watches you intently as you begin reading his not-too-messy, not-too-neat handwriting.

Dear Y/n,

I just want to take this opportunity to say how much I appreciate you. You, as a person. Everything about you, I love. Your teasing, your jokes, your playfulness. Your hard work and dedication. You’re so understanding and kind. I love how gentle you are, yet also tough. You’re the perfect balance, for me and for anyone. You have the softest, most beautiful, caring heart, but a tough skin, too, and you can hold your own. You’re so strong and capable, too. I admire you in so many ways.

I love being with you. Time spent with you is my favorite time. Whether we’re just laying or sitting somewhere together, basking in each other’s silence and simply company, or going out somewhere, exploring someplace, and experiencing something together. I love it. I adore it. I love being with you.

Sometimes, I think about when we were little kids. I think about how we’d sit together and whine about how hard it is to be an older sibling, or how this or that rule by our parents was stupid. I remember playing with you, exploring. Even then, Y/n, we were forming a bond, and I think it’s beautiful. I hope we stay like this forever. Together.

I just want to be with you.

I remember as I got older and I moved, I missed you so much. So, so much. We stayed in touch, but you don’t know how much was missing without you always by my side. It’s like in a way you complete me.

I’m so glad that fate and time and whatever else all worked together that today, right now, you can be with me, on your twenty-third birthday. Twenty-three years, Y/n, I’ve known you. You’ve been my best friend. Somehow, we always keep running into each other. Like as if time and space and the universe knows we’re meant to be with each other, for each other, and it won’t let us be separated for too long. Like me and you have a magnet.

I love it, Y/n, and I hope you do, too.

I also love how beautiful you are. Your stunning eyes when they look straight into mine. The way you look over your shoulder and wink teasingly. The way your eyebrows scrunch together when you’re working hard or trying to figure something out. The way you flip your hair, the way you walk, the way you talk, the way you laugh, and the way your touch feels; I love every single little ‘way’ about you. You are it, everything I want. I don’t know what you feel, but I know that for years, I knew it.

I knew I’m supposed to be with you.

If you don’t think so, that’s okay. But just know what I know. Because for years I was terrified to say it, but now, I know.

I know this, Y/n:

I love you. I always have, and I always will.

Yours truly, Oscar Jack Piastri 5/26/24

As you read the last words, you feel a lump forming in your throat as you softly gasp, “Oscar…”

“I’m sorry if it’s a bit over the top,” he says right away with a slightly nervous chuckle. “I don’t mean to seem sappy. I should have just left it at ‘happy birthday’...”

“No, no-”

“I just had a lot to say, I guess,” Oscar mutters, glancing down. “A lot to say, to make up for the years of staying silent.”

“Oh, Oscar, stop!” you laugh, your voice cracking as you suddenly throw your arms around him in a tight embrace. You feel your eyes begin to water as you squeeze them shut tightly and bury your head in his shoulder, murmuring, “This is the sweetest thing I’ve ever read, Osc… You’re going to make me cry…”

As you hug him, it’s like a weight is lifted off his shoulders. He wraps his arms around you back, his hand slowly, absently beginning to rub your back.

You sniff a bit, whispering close to his ear, “That’s just about the most beautiful thing I’ve read… Oscar, I- I, um… I-” love you, too, your brain screams, begging your lips to form the words. You love him, Y/n. You know you do. Just say the words. Just say them.

But you finish with, “I- Thank you so much, Oscar. Thank you.”

He nods, resting his cheek on your head for a few seconds, before murmuring, “Why don’t you open the gift now?”

You nod, slowly leaning away. You mop up your eyes with your hands before taking the box. You slowly open it and gasp when you see a sparkling green gemstone inside, attached to a golden chain. “Oscar…” you breathe. “It’s beautiful…” You slowly begin taking it out of the box.

“Emerald, for May, on a gold necklace chain.”

You stop taking it out of the box to freeze and look up in surprise, eyes wide. “Real emerald? Real gold?!”

“Yes,” Oscar chuckles. “Yes, Y/n. It’s a real emerald on a real gold chain.”

Your jaw drops as you blubber, “Oscar… Oh my God, Oscar… you didn’t have to…”

“I think you’ve forgotten I can afford it. And I would spend any amount of money, if it was for you. But do you like it?”

“What do you mean?!” you exclaim. “What sort of question is that? Of course I like it! I love it!”

At that, the young McLaren driver immediately beams. “Here- want me to put it on you?” You nod vigorously, so Oscar takes the necklace gently from your hands and reaches around your neck to clasp it on you. You feel his soft hands briefly brush the skin of your neck, sending a shiver down your spine, before he takes them away and leans back to view you. “It looks lovely on you. Compliments your features.”

“You really think so?”

He grins with a soft chuckle. “Y/n, I know so.”

Once you’re done sitting with Oscar for a bit after that, just being with him, you exit his driver’s room into the hallway with a tired but contented sigh. You tuck Oscar’s note and the box the necklace came in into your pants pocket, about to get going and continue on with your life, when, once again, you’re interrupted.

You suddenly feel two strong arms wrapping around you from behind as the scent of Lando’s cologne fills your nostrils. He leans close to your ear, rocking you a bit, before murmuring in a gentle, concerned voice, “Hey, Y/n… How are you?”

You smile softly, feeling his warmth against your back. “I’m alright,” you sigh, your head still slightly in the clouds about Oscar’s note and gift.

Lando unwraps his arms from around you and gently guides you by your shoulders to turn around and face him. “What were you doing, hm?” he suddenly asks softly.

“What do you mean?” you ask, eyebrows furrowing.

“In Oscar’s driver’s room. I saw you leave.” His tone is in no way accusatory. Just genuinely concerned.

“Nothing,” you frown, licking your lips. “Why do you care?”

He crosses his arms, the concern mostly falling off his face now as he says simply, reaching up to drag his thumb under your eye, “Because of this.” He holds up his thumb to show the chalky smeared mascara on it. “And because of the redness around your eyes. Are you okay?” The concern comes flooding back as he lifts his other hand to gently touch your cheek. “Did something happen? Did Oscar do something? Y/n, you know you can tell me. You know you can trust me.”

But you can’t help yourself but chuckle. In a way, it’s sweet how caring and worried Lando is acting, looking out for you like that. But also kind of funny that Lando thinks Oscar Piastri even has the capacity to do you any harm, at least not on purpose. So you say, “No, no, Lando! Don’t worry! I’m not upset! Those were happy tears!”

Lando doesn’t look much less concerned, though. “What made you so happy?” he asks carefully.

You sigh, figuring there’s no reason to not tell Lando, at least partially the truth. “Oscar just gave me a super sweet birthday gift is all.”

“Oh,” Lando nods slowly. “What was it?”

You smile and point at the necklace hanging around your neck, resting perfectly in the middle of your chest. “This…”

“Oh,” Lando says again, this time more impressed, looking down at it. “That… It looks beautiful on you.”

You smile wider. “Thanks.”

But then the British man swallows. “I know you’re probably tired and wanting to get back to your hotel room, but I have a gift for you, too.”

“Just make sure it’s not a kiss this time,” you softly tease. “I don’t think my heart can take it right now.”

“No, no, of course not. I actually bought you something for your birthday!” the Brit chuckles, his hand naturally falling to the small of your back as he leads you to his driver’s room. He keeps the door hanging open, though, and you’re sure that’s intentional, to give you more of a sense of reassurance. You appreciate it. “Alright!” he says, clapping his hands together. “Close your eyes and hold out your hands.” You shrug and obey, doing so. You feel him place some light, small item in your hand, before he says, “Alright! Open!”

You chuckle as you open your eyes, teasing, “What was the point of having me close my eyes?”

“So it was a surprise! Now look at what I got you, for God’s sake, Y/n!” he rolls his eyes jokingly.

You look down at the little card in your hand, shaped like a credit card. You bring it to your face and study it, until your eyes widen when you recognize what it is. “Lando, is this…?”

He grins broader as he sees the sparkle in your eyes. “Yeah, yeah. It is.”

“You didn’t have to!” you laugh. A gift card for a free weekend to a luxury spa. You’ve often told Lando how nice it’d be to have a spa day, just relaxing and letting the weight off your shoulders.

But you weren’t expecting it as a birthday gift! And you definitely weren't expecting some expensive luxurious place, and for a whole weekend!

“And,” he smiles, reaching in his pocket to pull out a second, identical card which he places in your hand, too, “A second one, because I figured it’d be no fun alone, so you could bring one of your girl friends or something.”

You throw your arms around Lando and peck his cheek, which is a lot more of an easy thing to do with Lando than it is with Oscar. Oscar, you’re more emotionally connected with. But physically and romantically, you’re a lot more connected to Lando. Lando giggles as you exclaim, “How’d you even think to do this?”

He shrugs. “You talk about it. And you work constantly, so damn hard, you deserve a break. You don’t get enough credit for all you do. Take a weekend to just relax and enjoy, hm?”

You smile and shut your eyes, nuzzling your face into his neck, loving the sentiment, loving the gift, and loving Lando’s attitude in recognizing how hard you do work.

It feels so good to simply be appreciated.

The day after the Monaco Grand Prix, that Monday, Oscar texts you, asking you if you'd like the meet up before you have to go back to the U.K.

You're leaving tomorrow, so it had to be a yes.

Now you sit next to Oscar in his car, in the parking lot, as you buckle your seat belt and Oscar absently drums his fingers on the steering wheel.

Finally you break the silence with, "So, what's the plan, Stan?"

"Um..." Oscar begins, and just by one quick glance, you can see the deep thought written across his face as he looks forward out the windshield.

And you're right. The Aussie's thoughts are raging, about only one thing. And that thing, of course, being you.

He bites his lip, feeling a pang of slight desperation, but mostly just indescision.

He thought the nice note he wrote you for your birthday would've... given more of a reaction. Or maybe the necklace would've pulled at your heartstrings a little more. Just... Just a hug felt wrong to Oscar.

Why doesn't she love me back?

I whisper of a thought in his mind responds, Maybe it's got to do with Lando. Maybe she just simply doesn't love you because she loves Lando more.

He swallows a lump in his throat, pushing that thought out of his mind with, No, Oscar. She said she's got nothing more with Lando than she's got with you. You need to trust her. You know you love her. Therefore, trust her.

Of course, naturally, Oscar has no idea that he really shouldn't trust you.

Prompted by his thoughts, Oscar suddenly asks you, ignoring your own question, "Did Lando get you anything for your birthday? Just asking, because, you know, he had said he had something...?"

"Oh, yeah!" you exclaim. Oscar can't help but recognize the way your face lights up at the mention of merely Lando's name. You continue, "He got me a free weekend to a spa for two people!"

"Oh. You're going to a spa with him?" Oscar says slightly absently.

You laugh. "No, he suggested probably one of my friends. Lando would've told me if he wanted to go."

"Ah, right. Of course."

"Oscar?" you suddenly say, concerned, leaning closer. You place your hand on top of Oscar's drumming fingers on the wheel, forcing the nervous movement to stop. "Is something wrong?"

"Hmmm..." he sighs. Oscar, you've just got to make a move. A real move. Lando is loud, impulsive, fun. He wouldn't second guess.

Maybe you should take a hint from Lando.

Maybe she just needs to see, feel, experience me.

That doesn't sound right.

That doesn't sound like me.

Oscar closes his eyes, leaning back, entwining his fingers around your hand.

I'm not Lando Norris. So is that it?

That's it. I'm just not Lando Norris.

But despite the proclamation in his head, he snaps himself out of it. "Just... thinking back on the race. Sorry."

"Are you sure you're okay, Osc?" you lean in, more concerned.

It's like Oscar can feel his heart being squeezed, warmed. And another, louder, sudden thought enters his mind:

You won't let her go, Oscar, and you know that. You'll fight for her. You'll change for her.

You'll never be Lando Norris, but maybe you've just got to quit overthinking and start acting.

"Alright!" he says, a quite sudden smile appearing on his face as he squeezes your hand. "Yeah, I'm sure." He smiles, bringing your hand to his mouth to gently kiss the back of it.

He doesn't really see the blush on your cheeks when he does that.

He lets go of your hand and says, "Alrighty, let's go. I've got somewhere to bring you."

When you get to the destination, you laugh. "Oscar, it's just a park! You made it seem like you had this big thing planned."

"Oh," he smiles a bit. "Well, sorry. Do you have something against parks?"

"No- I'm just saying-"

"Yes, sure, whatever." He suddenly snatches your hand as he says, "Let's just go for a nice walk."

It's not common for Oscar to just take your hand like that, so confidently. Lando? Sure, all the time. But not really Oscar...

But you kind of like it.

As you walk, you just chat, until you're sure you've walked the entirety of Monaco before Oscar finally gestures to a lone bench in a solitary area, and you sit down together, hands still latched.

But you let go of his, saying with a chuckle, "I just... You know, my hands are sweaty."

"Oh, sure, of course. Mine probably are, too," he responds, running a hand through his hair.

You watch him intently as he does this, and reply a few seconds too late, "Oh, no, no, they're not! I like your hands."

And you immediately blush at the fact you actually just told Oscar Piastri that.

But he looks over with that little crooked teasing smile of his and says, "Do you?"

You grin back and shrug. "Hell yeah."

"Hm. I'll keep that in mind, then."

That makes your mind immediately wander to what he could mean, and you feel bad for what you immediately think of.

Regardless, your face flushes.

And then Oscar makes the decision that he's wanted to make for months, and probably years. His twinkling eye meets yours as he says, "You like my hands? Well I like your lips."

Your breath catches and butterflies well up in your stomach as Oscar leans in closer. His hand gently cups your chin as he looks you straight in your eyes, his softening by the second.

In the exact moment that he should just lean in and kiss you, he hesitates and asks, "Is it okay if I-"

"Oscar! Yes!" you say without thinking.

Yeah, yeah. There you go again. Not thinking again, in the exact moments that you should think about it the most.

Oscar leans in, his head tilting to the side slightly as his soft lips meet yours. Your head spins as he strokes your cheek.

It's not too long and not too short. He pulls away, gazing warmly into your eyes.

There was something different about Oscar's kiss. Lando kissed you and kept kissing you, as if he couldn't get enough. Oscar stopped as soon as he knew it was the perfect time for both of you to pull away. Lando's kiss was hungry, Oscar's wasn't really. He enjoyed it, but...

You don't know.

Oscar's more romantic.

You feel simply by the way he looks at you...

You feel like a jewel. You feel beautiful.

Physically, Lando's kiss was probably better. But emotionally, Oscar's...?

You never knew Oscar could be this romantic. But, to be honest with yourself, Lando's kiss was hotter. Sexier.

God, you loved both.

You groan, falling into Oscar, throwing your arms around him.

Y/n! Y/n! You're comparing the kissing styles of the two guys you kissed without the other knowing!

They both think you're theirs!

"Are you okay?" Oscar immediately asks. "Listen, I'm sorry- Oh, God, listen-"

"No! Oscar, thank you..." you blurt shakily, leaning back to look at him.

"Uh... you're welcome..." He falters, before saying, "So... does this mean you want to be my girlfriend?"

Oh, God.

"Oh, uh, I don't think I'm ready for that- uh-" you begin nervously.

"Right," comes the brown eyed boy's curt response.

Oscar Piastri's vague clean scent fills your nostrils. Or perhaps it's the clean hotel sheets you lay in next to him. His soft touch massages your hand as you hum a song.

You know all the words, but you forgot the tune.

In another reality, he would kiss you and hold you and call you his. You would say without a fragment of a doubt that you are his girlfriend.

Like an arrow to your heart, his voice asks you once more: "Does this mean you want to be my girlfriend?"

You're leaning against his bare chest, listening to his heartbeat, British voice speaking but saying nothing, and you begin, "Oh, uh, I-"

You wake up with a start, gasping. The last thing you remember of your dream was laying with Lando, about to tell him you love him.

What the hell, Y/n?

“What’s up?” you ask as you answer your vibrating cellphone.

Lando Norris on the other end responds, “Nothing much. What’s up with you.”

“Dunno. Just packing up to get ready to be leaving Monaco. But why’d you call?”

“Hey, whoa, whoa,” Lando suddenly says. “Why’re you leaving Monaco so early? Come on, now!”

You sigh with a little smile, rolling your eyes as you throw another shirt in your suitcase. “Lando, this country is uber expensive. There’s no way I’m staying here any longer than I have to. The hotel price is ridiculous, and the rest of the team is leaving, anyway.”

Lando tsks before saying, “Come on, now. You won’t have to pay for a hotel room for extra days, you know. You can stay at my place, duh.”

Your eyebrows shoot up. “Oh, Lando. You really want me to stay in Monaco.”

“Of course I do. But you know I’d let you stay at my place anytime.”

“Mmmhm. I know…”

“So? What do you say?” Lando asks.

You hesitate, before saying, "Lan, I already told the team I'd be leaving on the plane with them..."

“For God’s sake, Y/n, then tell them you’re not, check out of that damn hotel room, and c’mere!”

“Come where?!” you ask in slight exasperation.

“Where do you think? My flat!”

“Alright, alright, I’ll do that, jeez. Text me your address. But God, why are you getting so worked up about this?”

There’s more silence before the Monaco resident says softer, “I just really want to see you, is all.”

You raise your eyebrows and say softer as you zip up your suitcase. “That’s it?”

“Yeah,” he snorts. “Not good enough for you, princess?” he teases.

“No,” you breathe, a slight smile forming on your face as warmth spreads across it. “No, that’s perfectly, one hundred percent, all the way, good enough for me.”

“Good.” You can hear the grin in Lando’s voice. “Then I’ll see you in a bit, you beauty.”

When you arrive at his flat and he opens the door, Lando wraps his arms around you, patting your back, before letting you go. “Hey, wanna come to the living room?”

“Sure,” you nod, taking in the rooms you go through as he leads you to the living space. You’ve never been in Lando’s flat before, but you have to say, it is thoroughly impressive. Soon, you’re in the living room, and the two of you plop down on the couch together. You sink into it and lean back, saying, “This is comfy.”

Lando just takes your hand and says, “Thanks.”

But you look up at him with a soft teasing smile. “So, are you going to tell me why on earth you suddenly got so clingy? You’re acting like we haven’t seen each other in three years! Just as a reminder, it was just two days ago.”

But Lando smirks, shrugging, and says teasingly, “Maybe I’m just a little obsessed…?”

“Obsessed?” you smile wider, leaning your head onto his shoulder. “Oh, don’t flatter me.”

“Aw, why not? You’re cute when you’re blushing…”

“Lando, stop,” you snort, then add, “We’re supposed to be friends. I don’t think friends say this kind of shit to each other.”

“I like the way you say, ‘we’re supposed to be,’” the race car driver begins.

“Lando! We are friends, and that’s all we’ll ever be!” you respond firmer, but deep down, you have your doubts. Your extreme doubts. Because being with Lando, it never feels like a friendship anymore, and you both know everyday you get closer and closer to finally just admitting you’re dating.

And the only reason why you haven’t yet is because of the certain someone in the way. Oscar Piastri, the sweet Australian boy from your childhood and teenage dreams.

Who kissed you like he meant it yesterday at around this time.

You feel your stomach lurch at the thought.

How can I so shamelessly act like this with Lando, when I know twenty-four hours ago I kissed Oscar back?

You jump when Lando says, almost as if he could hear your thoughts, “Is something wrong?"

You look up in slight surprise, eyes wide. “Uh- of course not. Why do you ask?"

But Lando's frown deepens. "Y/n, stop that. You know I know you're lying. I can see it on your face when something is bothering you."

You bite your lip. "Nothing is."

Lando heaves a big sigh before suddenly pulling you into his lap.

You flinch and lean away in extreme embarrassment, "Lando, what-"

"Just let me hug you, hm? You always say you're fine when you're not and I just want to help you. Let me at least hug you."

You sigh deeply and slowly let yourself lean into him. He strokes your hairline gently, and begins rambling. Lando Rambling, but in a gentle whisper.

You swallow back the huge lump in your throat, and despite your squeezed shut eyes and your raging mind, it's nice.

Until Lando is gently shaking you, and your eyes flutter open as you realize you had fallen into a calm, dreamless sleep against him. You feel his soft, nearly heavenly chuckle vibrating in your ear before you lean your head off his chest slowly. "Rise and shine, princess. You went right to sleep."

You yawn. "Shit, sorry about that..."

But Lando beams. "It's okay. It was cute. And do you feel a bit better now?"

You sigh and nod. "Yeah. I do, actually."

"Good," he grins, eyes twinkling, and leans in to give you a kiss on your cheek. "You probably just needed a nice big long nap."

You sigh.

If only it was as simple as that, Lando.

When I'm with Oscar, he seems like the obvious choice. But then I'm with Lando and he's so sweet and caring and loving and understanding and lighthearted and fun and handsome and perfect and-

And then he seems like the obvious choice.

Oh, Oscar. I couldn't stand to break your heart of gold, though.

And suddenly you freeze as Lando seems to read your mind for a second time, his voice saying softly near your ear, "Is it okay if I call Oscar?"

You snap your head back to meet Lando's eyes. "What reason have you got to call Oscar...?"

“So he can come over.”

You stare at him like he’s the craziest man alive. “Come again?”

“So he can come over and join us, Y/n. But you heard me the first time.”

“What’s your problem?” you asked quite bluntly.

“What’s yours?”

You stare at Lando, completely at a loss for words. Feeling slightly called out, to be honest. You breath deeply, before, with much effort, finally forming the sentence under Lando’s expectant gaze, “Lando, you know that Oscar thinks we’re dating. Even though we’re obviously not. If Oscar shows up… Lando, there’s too much drama you don’t know about. That wouldn’t-”

Lando raises his eyebrows, unimpressed, and says, “I know more than you think I do.”

You swallow, anxiously licking your lips. “Why do you want Osc over?”

“I’ve got some things to talk about with you. And him. With the two of you.”

Your face scrunches up as you ask hopefully, “About work?”

“Nope,” Lando says sternly as he opens his phone, scrolling his contacts, looking for Oscar’s.

You’re starting to get nervous. Real nervous. “Lando, please,” you begin, your voice laced with a certain amount of fear as you take the man’s hand. “Lando, what are you trying to do? Why? Lando, I… I’m not ready… Can you talk to me first?”

Lando looks up at you. “You clearly know what I’m doing, then, otherwise you wouldn’t be so panicked.”

“Of course I do…” you breathe. How the hell did it come to this?

Why did I think Lando was stupider than this? To not see the writing on the wall? To not see what’s clear as day?

Lando leans in closer, wrapping both his hands around yours. He stares you straight in your eyes. Everything about his actions is gentle, but his voice is painfully stern as he begins nearly whispering, “Y/n. I’m sick of this, and Oscar is, too. And you’ve had enough of this, too, whether you think you have or you haven't. I understand to a certain degree what’s been going on, but I don’t think Oscar has allowed himself to. We need to, the three of us, talk this over and figure this out. Pretending isn’t going to do you any good any longer, Y/n. And I think me and Oscar can both agree on the fact that we just want the best for you, yeah? So I know this is hard, but if you wait any longer, the situation will just get worse and worse. And now I’ve figured you out, so let’s just deal with this together, the three of us, and be honest. Okay?”

You hesitate as your eyes start to water.

You feel like you want to throw up.

I never wanted this to happen. I never wanted it to come to this. I just wanted it to work itself out on it’s own. I didn’t want Lando or Oscar to know. I wanted to figure it out alone.

“Lando,” you sniff, your voice cracking. Lando leans over to one of the end tables to grab a tissue, which he uses to wipe a tear rolling down your cheek. As you continue to cry, he hands the tissue to you and begins holding your hand as you use the other to rest your heavy head against it.

You sit there together for a while as you just cry, working through the emotions of the last months. Once you’re finally done, Lando says gently, “It might not get any easier, but please, Y/n. If you’re honest with me and Oscar, I hope you know that we’ll always be ready to help you and be there for you.”

“I know that…” you sniff. “It’s just… I don’t want to lose either of you, Lando. I can’t stand to imagine losing either of you.”

Lando nods slowly, and murmurs, “I can’t speak for Oscar, but just so you know, whatever happens, no matter what, you’ll always be my friend. And I’ll always be there for you. M’kay?”

You nod slowly, wiping your eyes one last time, those words providing just enough comfort for the time being.

“Alright,” Lando says, gently patting your hand. “Can I call Oscar? I’m sure I’ll be able to convince him to come over.”

“Yeah,” you smile weakly. “Unless he’s still sleeping.”

Lando nods and grins as he picks up his phone again to call Oscar Piastri.

When Lando goes to open the door, you follow close behind him, fiddling with your fingers anxiously. When he does open it, a surprised Oscar immediately sees you behind him and exclaims your name in shock. "Why are you here?"

"I invited her, too," Lando replies confidently, as if this is all completely normal, looking Oscar straight in his sweet brown eyes.

"Ah," Oscar nods slowly. "I can see that." He smiles awkwardly at you as Lando brings him in. He mostly just looks thoroughly confused, but doesn't take his eyes off you for a second.

Soon, you're all seated around Lando's dining room table, you and Oscar on one side, facing a lone Lando on the other side, feeling like you're about to be interrogated.

While Lando doesn't ask, 'Where were you at the time of the murder?' he does say, "I think we've all got some thing to be honest about. Oscar, I mentioned it on the phone to you, but I think all three of us have got some... stuff to discuss."

Neither you or Oscar say anything. You're too nervous to speak, and Oscar's too confused.

Lando sighs, seeing neither you or Oscar have nothing much to say, and says, "Alright, then." He slaps his palms down on the table. "Oscar, you and Y/n... You'd like to date her, yeah?"

Immediately Oscar's eyes widen, and his hand tightens around his cellphone in his hand as his pale cheeks redden. "I- What sort of-"

"Do you?"

"Yeah," Oscar admits carefully, but sort of bluntly.

"I'd like to date Y/n, too."

Oscar stares at Lando. His grip on his phone tightens slightly, but that's the only sign of a reaction his body shows as he says softer, "Well, of course."

Lando's gaze averts to you.

You sigh. The awkwardness in the air is making it stuffy and hard to breathe. The tension in the room is thick enough to cut.

"Y/n?" Lando prompts.

Your words get caught in your throat, and instead comes out a weak cough.

Apparently Oscar takes it as a sob, because immediately his hand is on your back, and he's leaning close, saying softly, "Y/n. Are you okay?"

As you bury your face in your hands and nod, you don't catch the dirty look Oscar throws Lando, and Lando's effort to ignore it. Once you've caught your breath, you barely get out, "I love you both."

Oscar's hand slips off your back as Lando reaches across the table to take your hand in his.

"I- you-" Oscar begins, before his eyes turn on Lando. "You knew about this, Lando? You knew?" You can feel the stress and, frankly, anger, radiating off of him as Oscar says, turning to you, "Y/n, I told you if you loved Lando, you could let me go. I would've taken it..." He runs a hand through his hair. "I would've. Y/n, I swear I would've. Why'd you have to play with my heartstrings? Why'd you do that, Y/n? Why'd you do that to m-"

"Oscar, stop!" Lando suddenly snaps, standing up. "Don't you see the state she's in? This is harder for her than it is for you!"

"Just stop fighting," you barely whisper.

Neither men hear you as Lando grabs Oscar's wrist and tells you sternly, "Y/n, you just stay here. I'm gonna go talk with Oscar alone, if that's fine."

But Lando doesn't wait for your input before he tugs Oscar out of the room and slams the door behind him. You suppose it wouldn't matter much anyway. It's not like you would have any idea what to say, anyway, if you'd have been given the chance.

You stare ahead in a strange mixture of regret and dread. Fear of past decisions and fear of future decisions, too.

After the door slams, unbeknownst to you, Lando immediately shoves Oscar against the wall and snaps, "What the hell, man?"

A long breath exits Oscar's lungs as he stares back into Lando's hazel eyes. "What?" he sighs.

"Don't you see she's in distress? Give the girl a break-"

"I need to give her a break? Lando, I kissed her. Do you think I would've fucking done that if I knew she was seeing you? We can both say it was all friendships all along, but we also both know this's bullshit." Oscar gulps before muttering, "She's a fucking cheater."

"No, she's not!" Lando suddenly defends. "You just don't understand."

"Yeah! Clearly I don't," Oscar says gruffly.

"So are you going to let me explain what I think went on?"

"Why don't we hear it straight from her? You could very well be biased."

"Do you think she wants to say it? Oscar," Lando sighs. "Won't you just listen to me?"

Lando watches as the Australian bites his lip, before saying, "Have you kissed?"

"Once."

"Same..." Oscar hesitates once more before asking, "So it's just the 'friend' thing? She's in love with both of us so she's been convincing herself she can stay both our friends forever."

"Well... right. And neither of us knew that was going on, and... Yeah, you know."

"How'd you find out?"

"It became too obvious. But Oscar, you've had your suspicions before the beginning."

Oscar sighs, staring down. "Right. So. She denied it because she loved us both."

"That's what I'm reckoning."

"What did she think she'd accomplish? Why did she think letting that happen would do any good? We both thought she was single. And technically, she was, but not really, because, we- you- I- you- you know..." Oscar trails off before dragging his hand across his face and leaving it over his eyes. "Oh, God."

"It's complicated," Lando nearly whispers.

"You... You can say that again..." Oscar breathes, his voice cracking as his other hand goes to his face, his pointer and middle finger pressing hard into his temple.

"Oscar?" Lando suddenly asks, his hand resting on the younger man's shoulder. "Are you okay?"

"Shit... I don't know..."

"Oscar, are you-"

"No- I mean, I am, but-"

Oscar is interrupted by Lando's arms suddenly wrapping around him in a hug and Lando murmuring, "Now both of you are crying?"

Oscar, despite himself, finds his face falling into Lando's shoulder as he begins, his voice just slightly hoarse, "I'm not crying, by the way. It's just... Lando, I've been in love with her for years; I swear, probably a decade by now. And I've known her literally my whole life. A part of me just always expected she'd always be there and I'd always just... that I'd always have enough time to wake up one morning and ask her out. I should have done it quite literally years ago. But I didn't and that's why we're here now, me feeling as if I have more of a right to her love, though really, I'm not worthy of her at all." Oscar lets out a shakily breath before adding, "I regret it so, so much, Lando."

Lando's arms around him tighten. "I'm so sorry."

"You don't have anything to apologize for."

"Osc, I just want her to be happy. But I know her dating me isn't the solution. Because she'd be devastated to date me but not you, and vise versa. She's head over heels for us both."

Oscar gulps. "Well, then what the hell do you suggest?" He leans away from Lando, wiping at his eyes with his thumb.

"Oh, Oscar," Lando sighs deeply. "I don't fucking know."

After that, the two stand in silent contemplation, worrying, pondering. Feeling. Emotion. Passion. Pain.

Before Lando finally says carefully, as if walking on eggshells, "...What if we both dated her...? Just kept doing what we've been doing, but the other one knows about it, so she doesn't have to feel guilty about it, but we both still... you know, get to date her?"

Oscar bites his lip. "Couldn't that get complicated?"

"Of course it could..." Lando trails off, before picking up more positively, "But sometimes the easier way isn't the right way, Oscar. We both know it'd make her happier to date us both. And we both know we'd both be happier if we could date her, yeah?"

Oscar's silent, considering, his eyes slightly glazed over, despite the battle that's going on inside his mind.

"Osc...? Osc, please, mate. I think it's the best shot we've got. It'd mean the world to me-"

"Yeah," Oscar suddenly interrupts with a nod, leaning off the hallway's wall. "Yeah, I get what you're saying. We can try that Lando," he says curtly, almost hollowly as he suddenly reaches for the door handle back to the dining room where you sit.

But right before his hand meets the knob, Lando snatches it away in his own, pulling Oscar to face him again.

Oscar can't help but feel awkward at how close his face is to the other Formula 1 driver's, and averts his eyes to the floor because of this.

But Lando responds simply, "Oscar, look at me. In my eyes."

Oscar sighs and looks up, meeting the strong eyes of Lando Norris. "What?" he barely whispers.

"Thank you so much, okay?" Lando murmurs, squeezing Oscar's hand.

To Oscar, everything seems wrong. Why is he standing with his teammate, his rival, this close, holding hands, with such intense eye contact? This should be just him and you. Lando shouldn't be a part of this.

How was he so stupid to let Lando ruin it all?

Oscar, just try to trust Lando? Maybe he's right? You can conform for now, but don't conform with malice. Only allow yourself to feel anger towards Lando after it all falls apart because of him.

"'Kay," Oscar mutters back.

"And, listen, Oscar. I hope you know you can trust me. I care about you, too. So much. I like you so much. So, please. Just be real with me. M'kay?"

"Of course... Can we go back and see Y/n now?" Oscar mumbles, feeling slightly uncomfortable at Lando's extreme sincerity.

Alright, maybe more than just slightly uncomfortable.

"Sure," Lando nods, and the two men come walking back in.

They sit down, and once they've finished explaining to you their idea, you ask, "So, you're saying we all date? The three of us, together?"

"Yeah," Lando responds with a smile at the same time as Oscar responding, "Well, sort of-"

Both your pairs of eyes turn to Oscar. He swallows and adds, "I mean, yeah. Of course. Just sounds weird to me, for three people to be dating, but it's just because I'm not used to it, you know? It's good. It's fine."

"Oscar, are you sure you're okay with that idea?" you venture.

But there's no way Oscar's going to say anything but a convincing, "Of course!" after the way he saw your eyes immediately light up in hope when Lando explained his idea of the three of you dating.

So you nod, taking that answer, but just ask one more tentative question, "So, you two... you're okay with... you.. you know..."

Before Oscar's brain can even completely comprehend what you're asking, Lando throws his arm around Oscar's shoulders and exclaims, "Of course, Y/n! Me and Osc get on great! Plus, he's not so bad himself-"

And in that moment, you witness Lando lean into kiss Oscar's cheek just as Oscar turns to look at Lando to speak and-

Lando ends up pecking Oscar on his lips.

Oscar's eyes practically pop out of his head, and Lando, to be honest, looks somewhat surprised himself. But you're sure Oscar's brains are about to begin running out his bright red ears as his whole face goes fire hydrant red. "Oh..." he just manages, his hand dragging over his lip.

Lando laughs slightly awkwardly, deciding to pretend he meant to do that. He gives the other driver a pat on his shoulder before saying, "You know, Y/n, you know how flustered Oscar can get with you? Imagine how bad it could be with me. You know, me being so hot and sexy and-"

You giggle nervously and interrupt, "Yeah, yeah, Lando. I get what you're saying."

As the visit at Lando's flat goes on that day, you and Lando loosen up a fair amount at the whole prospect of the three of you dating, but Oscar doesn't seem to budge. Oscar ends up leaving early, so before you go to bed that night, you stop to bring up your nervous concern to Lando: "Lando, I just don't know if Oscar wants to do this... I mean, he doesn't seem comfortable... I just... I think he really doesn't like the idea of dating another guy... I mean, maybe he's- you know, he's not- He doesn't have those feelings for men-"

"Oh, gosh, Y/n, don't worry about that," Lando reassures you and himself, quite honestly. "He'll come around. Oscar just needs time." He adds with a tease, "I mean, who can resist me?"

"You're suggesting you're so hot you can turn straight men gay?" you ask, completely unimpressed, crossing your arms.

"No, no! Trust me, Y/n, Oscar Piastri is not a straight man to even begin with."

"But-"

"Shh. You're probably just tired. Go on, you're eyes are shutting on themselves. Just lean on me."

"But Lando-"

He pecks your lips and murmurs close to your ear, "I've got you here, Y/n. Leave all your worries for tomorrow morning, and until then, I'll deal with the rest."

"Are you sure?"

"Never been more sure," Lando comments, yawning himself as you sigh, resigned, and snuggle into his chest.

You're practically out cold within minutes, which leaves Lando time to sit alone with his thoughts, stroking your hair, worrying and thinking.

What if she's right? What if this just isn't going to work with Oscar?

I thought maybe he'd be more open.

Oh, God. I don't want to hurt either of them, one bit. I love Y/n. I know I do, and I have for so long now.

And Oscar? I'm so fond of him.

Ah, here I go again. Fuck me and my distracted, wandering, boyish heart.

Just like with Carlos. Just like with Daniel.

I don't know I feel it until in one moment, one instance, they smile in a certain way or say a certain joke or do a certain thing in a certain way and-

And suddenly I'm mad in love with yet another person.

Oh, Lando Norris. If only you could date everyone in the world you ever loved.

Then I'd be dating a lot more than just two people. And on the first day of dating two people, it's already a mess.

And it's all my fault.

I guess I'll just have to be the one who fixes it all, then, too.

"Oh, uh, good morning!" you chuckle as you see both Lando's and Oscar's heads turn almost in unison when you enter the room in McLaren HQ. "When did you two arrive in the U.K.?"

"Yesterd-"

"This morning!" Lando beams, throwing his arms around you.

"Oh, alright," you chuckle again. "It's so nice to see both of you..." You smile awkwardly as Lando pulls away and Oscar pats your shoulder when a sudden thought comes into your head.

Is this something the three of us should keep a secret?

Strangely (and stupidly) enough, you forgot to discuss that.

"Hey, uh, it's great you're both here right now. I've got to talk to you about, uhm- some of the media plans we have for you regarding Canada... Let's talk in the hall; don't want to disturb people working in here."

Lando raises his eyebrows as Oscar takes on a perplexed look. Once you're out in the hall together, you lean close and are about to speak when Lando interrupts with a smirk, "So, anyway. What about those... 'media plans' 'regarding Canada'...?"

"Oh, shut it, you!" you grin, realizing how much in just a little over a week away you missed Lando.

Oscar suddenly gently takes your hand by your side and says, "Oh, come on, Lando. Y/n, what did you want to say to us."

And you suddenly realized how much you missed Oscar, too, in only a little over a week.

"Well," you start, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. "About this... relationship... Should we... you know, keep it a secret?"

"I... think so," Oscar says carefully, squeezing your hand. "Imagine the media's response. And the fans: the fans would be unbearable."

Lando crosses his arms and whines, "So you're saying I can't even show my affection for you two? Oscar, we're always on camera."

Did Lando just say you two? you can't help but suddenly wonder.

"Maybe you are, but there's ways of avoiding it," Oscar comments, not seeming to hear.

Hm. Maybe I heard wrong.

Because deep down inside, despite your secret desires, you know that Lando and Oscar just agreed to this for you, and have no specific liking for each other.

And that's the thing that's making you nervous that this whole thing has no chance of working out.

"Boys. I agree with Oscar," you sigh. "Lando, I work in marketing and public image type stuff. If anyone knows about this, it's me. And I agree with Osc. It'll do us no good to make this public. Let's just keep it on the down-low."

"Can we at least make a compromise?" Lando ventures.

"Go on," you sigh.

"We can at least still keep acting like we're mad in love with you," Lando laughs. "Because we've been doing that this whole time. Just no one has to know about the dating. I mean, it'll seem off if that suddenly stops."

You bite your lip but murmur, "Fair enough."

Lando grins and comments, "I gotta meeting now. See you two later," giving each your shoulders a pat.

Once Lando is gone, you turn to Oscar and murmur, letting go of his hand to touch his arm gently "Hey, Oscar. Are you alright?"

Your childhood best friend looks to you, a smile immediately forming on his face. But his eyes remain a bit hollow, a bit sad. "Of course I'm alright. Why do you ask?"

"I don't know... You haven't seemed yourself today, I guess is all."

Of course she says that, Oscar thinks. She's the one that knows me best, anyway.

"I don't? Well, I'm fine... I'm sorry if I don't seem it," Oscar responds, attempting to brighten his smile. "Anyways, I've got to be off, too, actually," he says, checking his expensive watch. He leans in to peck your lips as his hand brushes your waist, before waving and offering, "Catch you later, lovely!"

The combination of his affectionate gestures and him calling you 'lovely' kind of makes your head spin.

You lay next to Lando, absently stroking his cheek and chin, feeling his facial hair, as he holds you close, tracing sweet words with his gentle fingers into your back.

You sigh, completely contented in the practically perfect moment. You're in Spain, and it's Saturday night- the Spanish Grand Prix is tomorrow. You ended up taking the last Grand Prix weekend in Canada off, for your spa weekend. Either way, before the race tomorrow, Lando invited you for some snuggles in his hotel room, and there's no way you could say no to that.

So here you are.

But suddenly Lando whispers, "Do you think I should invite Oscar?"

Your heavy eyes seem to immediately open and sharpen at this suggestion. You take a moment to ponder his question, before asking one of your own instead of answering his: "Lando, do you like Oscar?"

"Y/n, of course I like Osc-"

"No, no, Lando. I mean... you know..." you begin carefully, "Do you like Oscar the way you like me?"

There's silence in the room as the air conditioner becomes deafeningly loud suddenly. You can hear a long, slow sigh escape from Lando's lips, into the air, before he slowly says, "Oh, Y/n. I've liked lots of people the way I've liked you in the past."

You smile a little. "I know. You're Lando Norris, for God's sake. Of course you have. But today, right now, in this moment, do you like Oscar the same way you like me?"

Lando presses his forehead into your shoulder before uttering quieter, "If I did, it wouldn't matter."

"Why not?" you prod.

"Because, Y/n, there's no way he likes me in the same way he likes you."

You sigh slowly, feeling a slight pang at hearing those words. You wrap your arms around Lando and pull him closer to you. "What do you like about Oscar...?" you whisper.

"Oh, fuck me, Y/n. Everything. His stupid sense of humour, the way he laughs at all my jokes, the way he looks at me with those brown eyes, the little birth marks all over him, how polite and calm and cool-headed and cooperative and agreeable and smart and sensible and friendly and genuinely good he is. His voice, too! His mentality. Don't fucking tell anyone this, or I will kill you, but I even like the way he's a little bit taller than me. I love his stupid hair and his big smile. His hands... I love them. I love everything about him. I love him, and it's like it all just hit me. I don't know, Y/n. I just don't know."

You lean in and peck his lips before whispering, "Oh, Lando Norris. I love him, too, for all the same reasons. And I love you, too."

"The thing is, Y/n," he barely whispers, "that he'll never, ever love me back."

That feels like a stab to your heart.

You can't imagine how it feels to Lando.

You cuddle him so close, and you hold each other so close, that you can feel his heart pounding in his chest. "Lando," you whisper. "I wish it could all just work out."

"Me, too, Y/n.

"Me too."

"Heyyy, Osc!" you grin, knocking on his open driver's room door. "You feeling good for the race?"

He smiles to see you in the door. "Yeah, I am. Come on in. Thanks for coming to see me, Y/n."

"Of course. It's a treat to see your handsome face."

He beams wider but rolls his eyes, "Oh, yeah?"

"Of course!" you giggle a bit.

"Well, do I get my pre-race hug, then?"

You grin and throw your arms around him, giving him a big kiss on his cheek, "You'll also be getting a post-race hug, too, when you win it!"

"Well, I guess that's always the goal, but we'll see about that." He leans back to look at you, gazing so warmly, so intensely for just a second, into your eyes, before looking away. He opens his mouth to say something, but then quickly closes it.

"What is it, Oscar?" you prod.

"I just wanted to say I love you."

You grin. "Don't ever hesitate to say that again. You don't need to, because I love you, too. And you and Lando better stay safe out there on the track today for me, okay?"

"Oh, alright, and the rest of the grid can all die; they don't matter," he teases.

"Oh, shut it, you!" you laugh, exiting his driver's room with a wave, "Go on and get ready for your race now!"

"Bye!" he laughs.

"Bye, bye, Osc!"

You lay on the bed in Lando's hotel room where you laid just last night, but this time, there's two people laying with you rather than just one.

Oscar is fast asleep on your right side, his right arm draped over your body and his head resting against your shoulder. Lando is on your left, still awake, gently rubbing your left hand absently as he runs his hand through his messy curls.

"Do you think Osc-"

"Ah-" Lando exclaims softly with a little flinch. "I thought you were sleeping already!" he laughs a bit.

You nod, waiting a few seconds before reasking your question, "Do you think Oscar is feeling better about the whole thing?"

"Oh, God, Y/n, I don't know. I think he's just kind of rolling with the punches," Lando sighs deeply. "He just wants you. He'll do anything to have you. Even sleep in the same bed as me."

"Oh... right..." you sigh, wrapping your arm around the sleeping Oscar, pulling him closer to you as you rest your head in the little nook between Lando's cheek and shoulder.

You shut your eyes, trying to force yourself to sleep, but your thoughts are raging, just like Lando's.

Why can't it all just be right? Why does it have to be so difficult? Is this the right thing? Should we give up on it?

Why can't the three of us just be right for each other?

This whole mess is all your fault, Y/n.

Your uncertain heart pounds in your ears, faster and faster, making you nearly go insane.

[chxrrysangel]

Conflict of Interest

Pairing | Plug!Choso x fem!reader

Words | schmedium

Summary | Choso never quite does his intended job when you meet. Special treatment is what they call it, not that he’d outright admit to it. One day, you request his services outside of your normal routine. And things get, well, complicated.

Tags | 🍃, hotboxing, car sex, dub con (both parties are under the influence), overstimulation, kinda dom! Choso, no protection, praise kink, no use of y/n, overstimulation, creampie

Notes | I’ve had this in my drafts for so fucking long that I was getting sick and tired of going back to it instead of just posting. Overthinking is an understatement. (I’ll probably end up editing it again later)

You called up Choso a week early, stressed out of your fucking mind. It seemed like any problem the universe could throw at you, it did. You watched with anxious fingers tapping against the steering wheel as his deep blue car rolled into the empty parking lot. An abandoned mall is easily the best place for your exchanges, you both liked it that way.

He had his hair down today, catching you off guard for a moment. It’s not the first time he’s done it, but the stark contrast to his usual hairstyle was always surprising.

“Miss me?”, he asked with a smile as he closed the distance. You scoff and chuckle.

“I miss what’s in your bag. You’re not that special Kamo.”

“Oh but I am. We both know it.” He didn’t mention the break in routine, knowing it was probably something personal. You didn’t share much with one another, choosing the “basically strangers” dynamic to be a smarter option. But that doesn’t mean you didn’t break the agreement every once in a while. Even as he stands before the hood of your Jeep Grand Cherokee, your eyes can’t help but glance down at his playful smile when he talks or the movement of his fingers while he rolls. Your breath caught in your throat as he brought the paper to his lips, tongue flattening against its edge. Brown eyes glinted with mischief as they made contact with yours, a hum of satisfaction leaving his lips at catching you in the act. God if the earth could just open up and swallow me, that’d be great.

“Wanna smoke with me today?” You snapped out of your daze of distractions at the question, disbelief washing over your features.

“Really?” The large man shrugged, in a why not kind of way. How could you say no?

~~

Choso could taste the berry in your gloss as his lips wrapped around the blunt, inhaling the strain and feeling his chest grow warmer. It hadn’t been long, but the windows of Choso’s car had already begun to fog, despite the cracked windows.

That’s how you two spent the next hour, sharing two blunts and chatting together as your high began to wash over.

“Fuck, that’s strong.”

“Isn’t it?,” you softly whisper, head lolling towards him.

The two of you talk about anything and everything, minds expanding to limits you hadn’t even realized existed. Somehow the conversation drifted to the more personal aspects of your lives, such as your romantic lives.

“You’ve got a boyfriend?,” Choso whispered across the dash. You shook your head, waiting for his next question.

“Girlfriend?”

“If I didn’t know any better Kamo, I’d think you wanna date me.”

“God you fucking wish. Just curious.” Sometimes, you did wish. Not that he could ever know that.

“What about you, smartass. Dating anyone?”

“Nah, don’t have time for that.”

The car developed into a comfortable silence, neither of you feeling eagering to speak. It was like this with Choso, always has been. He understood the need for shutting up sometimes, no unnecessary pressure to converse.

“I think I need a haircut.” His random outburst prompted a barking laugh, caught off guard by the irrelevancy.

“I’m serious. It’s getting too long.” You looked over at him,pouting. You liked his hair, in fact you loved it. When he hung his head, the layers encased his face like a halo. It was the perfect haircut, not that you could really say so. Any allusion to your thoughts could ruin everything. So you settle for something simple.

“I like your hair.”

“Yeah?, he questions with a head tilt. You murmured a hum of agreement, leaning over the console to put a hand towards his face.

“I think your bangs could use a little trim though,” you remarked with a ruffle of his hair. You began to pull away a few seconds too late, eyes settling on his features and feeling yourself get too caught up. Choso’s eyes caught yours, grabbing your wrist to keep you close.

“Willing to cut it for me?” His eyes flickered across your features, analyzing them with an intensity you’ve never seen in him before. It was unnerving.

You nodded, swallowing a large gulp of nerves.

You sat outstretched over the console, not making any attempt to sit back properly on your side. He broke the silence before you could consider a regrettable choice, going on about munchies and making you laugh. That comment is what led to your current argument on the best type of cake as you unwrapped a cupcake in your hands.

“It’s very easily vanilla,” he argued, “it’s the most versatile option.” You scoff mid-bite.

“Didn’t know you were so boring, Kamo.” He looked offended at your comment, putting a hand on his chest like it hurt.

“Oh yeah? What’s your favorite then?”

“Red velvet. Hence why all of them are on my side of the tray.”

“You think you’re so special, picking red velvet over all the other options,” he teased.

“I know I’m special,” you mocked. Something shifted in the air when you said that, Choso growing quiet with no comeback prepared. The tension was so thick, you could cut it with a knife.

“You uh…you got something,” he whispered distractedly while leaning in. His thumb wiped at the corner of your mouth, dark eyes staring into yours. You watched as time slowed, his thumb reaching up to his lips and sucking.

“Frosting.” The two of you just stared at one another, high out of your minds and scared to breathe. Instinctively, you glance at his blush lips, not even remotely afraid that he would notice. His tongue darted out between the folds, covering the surface in spit and you nearly moaned.

“Fuck me,” you whispered to yourself, almost in pain.

He leans farther over the center console, putting a hand on your neck. Nothing was said as you stared into his eyes, bouncing back and forth between his irises as he wrestled with his thoughts. You leaned in , the gap between your lips just barely a sliver. You could kiss him easily, that much was obvious. But fear made you hesitate, breath fanning across his cheeks in anticipation of the next move.

“Choso,” you whispered in a barely audible tone.

“Don't talk,” he said before making the brave choice.

His lips capture yours, hesitant but curious. It takes a moment to find rhythm but soon you’re moaning softly into his mouth and gripping onto his arm for dear life. Choso was a good kisser, the soft muscle of his tongue bullying its way past your lips as he explored your mouth. He broke the kiss, staring at you with need. His lips were glossy with spit, pupils massive with lust.

“Back seat. Now.” You didn’t need to be told twice.

You watched as he impatiently pushed the seats forward, as far as the mechanism would allow.. He climbed into the backseat, a boyish smile adorning his features that you’ve adored from your first meeting.

“Choso, need you.”

He manhandles your body, grabbing your thighs to guide you into his lap.

Choso pushed your hips down on his crotch, your clit grinding against his rough zipper with earnestness. His plush lips peppered kisses down your neck and collarbone, smiling into your skin at the thought of seeing all this tomorrow. The two of you had crossed the line of friendship and he was quite intent on never going back now he’s gotten a taste. You whimpered, as though on the verge of tears, desperate for relief from the throbbing of your cunt.

“Oh, that’s cute.”

“Shut up. Not funny,” you retorted.

“Whatever you say sweetheart.” He thrust upwards, the outline of his erection rubbing so perfectly against your clit. A pathetically desperate whimper slips out, and he chuckles.

“I know baby, I know.” Choso continues to mark you, his featherlight touch on your skin sending tingles up your spine.

~~~

Had he not pushed his seat back, your ass would be pressing uncomfortably into the leather right now. Choso’s hands engulfed your hips, guiding you on his cock with every thrust. Your skin buzzed with the effects of indica, hot with desire as he fucked your brains out.

“Shit, Cho. So fuckin—ngh—good.” You whined into his neck, trying to muffle your sounds.

A chuckle reverberated through his body, dark with knowing.

“Don’t hide those pretty moans from me, baby. Wanna hear you.”

You leaned back, coming face to face with Choso. He was so pretty like this, a light sheen of sweat making his bangs stick to his skin in a pleasured bliss. Your pussy squeezed around his shaft, making him whine with need.

“Fuck that’s good,” he cried. Watching you bounce was like nothing he’d ever had the pleasure of seeing.

Just then, an idea formed in his mind. Choso angled his hips more upward, hitting your g-spot and pulling a pleasured sob from your lips. He watched with satisfaction as your eyes crossed for a moment, going dumb before his eyes. The glossed out look said everything, too lost in the pleasure to be remotely coherent.

“Feel good, pretty girl?” You could barely whimper out an affirmation, feeling your impending orgasm. You mewled incoherently, a jumble of curses and praise. With a shaking hand, you rubbed your clit as your stomach began to tighten in need for release.

“Right there baby. Fuck don’t stop don’t stop.”

Choso pushed off his own orgasm, wanting to watch you make a mess on his dick first. He grinned, taking in your fucked out state with great pleasure. The little you had shared with each other revealed that your sexual experience with men had been rather disappointing. Your last ex had no clue how to please you, too concerned with his own orgasm to ever worry about yours. He was selfish in that way, as well as many others.

He grabbed your hair, pulling you down in a sloppy kiss. If it wasn’t for how well he fucked, this kiss alone was enough to make your head spin. Your body felt miles away, the combination of the thc and the best fuck of your life making your skin tingle.

Your limbs began to tense, signals of how close you were. Your vision was blurry, teeth searing into your bottom lip with focus.

Choso felt your walls grow tighter, filling his chest with pride. He maintained his pace, pushing harder with each thrust. Your nails dug deep into the hard skin of his shoulders, imprinting moon-shaped marks.

“Close aren’t you?”

“So fucking close baby”. You stumbled over your response, struggling to say every syllable.

With a few more thrusts, your toes curled as you came. The squelching sounds in the car increased tenfold, a sound Choso was eager to revel in. He fucked you through your orgasm, thrusting getting sloppier by the second. His balls tightened, body buzzing as he fucked his cum into you. Before you could say anything, he didn’t stop. His mouth formed into an O, tip extremely sensitive.

“I think I can get one more out of you.”

A statement that felt more like a demand.

You began to shake your head, feeling the creeping discomfort of overstimulation begin to course through your shaking body.

He whispered sweet praises as you squirmed. Your body wasn’t sure of whether to lean into his touch or pull away, confused but pulsing with need. Your cunt choked his shaft, tense as you pushed through the masochistic pain. But soon enough that pain turned into pleasure, attempting to meet his thrusts to chase your orgasm.

He grinned with knowing, cheeky like a cat who got the cream.

“Shut up,” you uttered between gasps. He winked, satisfied with his clear victory. Even during the most intimate moments, he couldn’t help but be his usual annoying self

“Gonna cum Cho.” You whispered into his neck.

“Fuck. Can feel it. Doing so well for me, baby.”

His praise made you squeeze harder around him. Now that he’s had a taste, he’s unsure of how he’ll be able to let you go. Every touch, every look, every smile led up to this moment.

Every muscle in your body tenses as you cum, ears ringing as Choso praises you. His thumb rubs your clit in firm circles, the pleasure making your walls spasm around his sensitive cock.

“That’s it baby, doing so fucking good.” Choso slurred his words, head sensitive as he continued to fuck you through your orgasm. The base of his spine tingled, pushing him back towards the edge again. He blabbered incoherently as you came down, mumbling about how good your pussy is.

His hips stilled as he shot white ropes into you, filling your cunt with his warm seed. Your tired quick breaths as you gasped for air quickly faded into light laughter as you watched each other come down. Choso smiled lazily, dazed and completely out of it. With a delicate hand, he pushed some of your hair out of your face before pulling you in for another kiss. This one was much softer, gentle and unrushed. Romantic even.

“We just made things really complicated, didn’t we?,” you question against his lips. He didn’t answer really, murmuring in disagreement as he deepened the kiss.

“Choso! I’m serious”.

“So am I.”

[floral-force]

hey babes!!! I loved that one of Simon and the meet cute, it had me melting 🥹♥️ I was wondering if I could perhaps request a Simon Riley x reader where the reader is part of the 141, but before working with them, she was apart of a special ops group that focused on stuff like infiltration/sabotage, and she’s almost like a black widow sort of character? seduces her targets and takes them out when they’re alone? she’s usually a ray of sunshine with the group, but Laswell presents the mission and everyone’s like “????” and the reader’s like “fine, I guess we’ll do this again” and she’s just COMPLETELY different once she infiltrates??? it gives the whole crew whiplash, but I’m particularly interested in how Simon would react!!! I hope this isn’t too much!!! thanks for always blessing us with your amazing work, and I hope you have an amazing day!!! ♥️

thank you for loving the meet-cute!! this request was fun to fill. I took some artistic liberties and this one really ran away from me...I hope you enjoy this!

(requests are open! search the tags #prompt requests or #prompts and send me an ask!)

Honeypot

Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!Reader (code name "Honey")

summary: You’re Task Force 141’s newest operator, and everyone knows you as bubbly and sweet, earning you the code name Honey. How will the team react—especially Ghost, your stoic but sultry lieutenant—when a mission requires your espionage expertise?

words: 2.9k

warnings/tags: my blog is 18+ only. innuendo, canon-typical violence (fist fighting, gun mentions), bamf reader, task force 141 being buffoons, protective and jealous simon “ghost” riley, competency and size kinks if you squint, reader has a code name and uses she/her but no other descriptors

read on ao3 | masterlist

“The coup in Luxembourg is out of our usual bounds,” Laswell said, “but a covert agent working under the deposed Grand Duke has requested our aid.”

“They’ve been an ally to us in the past,” Price added, looping his thumbs under his tac vest, “so I expect you lot to execute this mission with as much precision and urgency as you would any other.”

“Country’s smaller than Scotland, innit?” Soap asked. “How the hell are we s’pposed to be discreet?”

“That’s where you come in, Honey,” Laswell crossed her arms and gave you a pointed look. “You remember your mission in Morocco?”

You smirked. “Is the sky blue?”

She gave you a small chuckle. “We need your expertise.”

“Fine.” You gave a dramatic sigh. “I guess we’ll do this again.”

“”M sorry,” Gaz interrupted with a scoff. “Do what, exactly?”

You turned to look at where he sat across the table from you next to an equally confused Soap. Ghost was twisted in his chair to look at where you sat behind him. 

You raised an eyebrow, your eyes flicked between Price and Laswell. “They don’t know what I did in the States?” 

“No,” Price muttered with a hint of embarrassment. He cleared his throat and shrugged like a tired parent as he said, “I suppose it never came up.”

Gaz gave an exasperated sigh, his impatience getting the better of him. “Well, go on then!” He urged. 

“I was a contracted espionage agent for the Department of Defense, and—”

“The Yanks used contracted agents?”

You rolled your eyes at the interruption. “Yes, Soap. Now, as I was saying,” you continued, shooting the Scotsman a playful glare, “I was hired for infiltration ops. Ones that required a certain…je ne sais quoi, a more feminine touch you lads wouldn’t be capable of.” 

When they all stared at your smiling face with blank expressions for a few moments—even Ghost’s eyes were narrowed with confusion—you jerked your head forward and waved your hands. “Guys, I seduced the targets.”

The confused silence persisted, and you looked around, giggling at each of the guys’ reactions, looking at Ghost last. His gaze pierced you the most, his brown eyes never leaving yours. Your teasing giggles faded, and you severed the eye contact with a roll of your eyes. You looked at Laswell again and crossed your arms, bored of the topic. 

“Now that that’s settled, can we please finish this briefing?” you implored. “I have to make sure I have a dress that’s fitting for a date with a dictator.”

“You sure you’re gonna be alright?”

“For the hundredth time—” you swung a heeled foot on a worn curb with a huff and hiked up the fabric of your dress—“yes, LT, I’ll be fine.” You adjusted the holster on your thigh and smirked at Ghost’s silence. “See something you like?”

There was a pause, and you looked up to see Ghost quickly look away at the street. Guilty.

You knew he felt some sort of way about you; whether it was good or bad was still unclear. One thing was for damn sure: Ghost had his sights set on you. You’d felt his skeletal stare linger on you ever since the briefing a week ago, and he wasn’t as sneaky as he thought he was at stealing looks when you were at the range or sparring.  Anyone else might feel like his prey—trapped by hungry eyes and cornered by a hulking frame—but you were so used to being the predator that you didn’t let it get to you. It was a little…fun.

Sure, he gave you butterflies, but that was because you’d never dealt with seducing men like him—at least, that’s what you told yourself after thinking about him with your hand between your thighs.

For now, you’d innocently tease and poke and prod the masked man with Soap and Gaz’s support. For now, you’d holster your loaded M9 and leave your leg exposed in yellow lamplight as you made sure your clutch had everything you needed. For now, you’d pretend that you weren’t thinking about him trailing his hand up from your ankle to the holster and grabbing the meat of your thigh.  

“We’ll be able to hear everything through your earpiece. Soap and I will have eyes on you in the palace, but stay near windows,” Ghost said, interrupting your thoughts. “Gaz’ll be on the roof.”

You swung your leg back down, wobbling. Ghost clutched your forearm, and you gripped his, fingernails scratching the fabric of his sleeve and digging into it for stability. His large hand snaked up to hold your bicep right above your bent elbow, your ears heating up when you met his eyes and saw something akin to lust in them.

His grip lingered even after you were steady on your feet again, only letting go when you gave him a flustered smile. You busied yourself with smoothing out the full skirt of your dress and adjusting the discreet monitor in your right ear. 

“All you have to do is get ‘im to the roof. The lads ‘n I will take it from there, as planned.” He paused, taking a deep breath. “If anythin’ goes wrong, jus’ get yourself out alive, Honey.”

“Got it.” You adjusted your necklace, and sheepishly asked, “Is it centered?”

You could smell sweat and sandalwood when Ghost stepped closer, his broad armored chest just inches away from your body. His large, gloved fingers graced over your skin and hands, delicately centering the elegant piece with tactical precision. 

Brown eyes looked you up and down. “Looks good, Honey.” 

Ghost stepped back and his hands fell, one curling around his radio and the other limp on the rifle slung across his body. You burned underneath your dress.

After testing the comms and getting location reports, you gave Ghost a thumbs up and started walking to the palace down the street, rolling your shoulders back and taking a few deep breaths. You could feel his brown eyes burning a hole through you the entire time, so you made sure to sway your hips a bit more than you usually did while seductively strutting somewhere.

It hadn’t taken her long to reach the third floor and approach the tall paned window with the target, just as she’d been instructed to do in their final briefing. Watching Honey expertly navigate the gala and get the target attached to her side faster than the speed of light stirred something within Ghost. Whether it was admiration for her skill or arousal was unclear. Either way, he’d be lying if he said she didn’t look ravishing in her dress. He tilted his head and greedily peered through the scope one last time before tearing his eyes away and adjusting his position on the grassy hill.

Honey was as lethal as she was sweet, and if her saccharine smile didn’t instantly ensnare her target, her sugary tongue would. Instead of doling out compliments, she accepted them and kicked innuendos back; instead of making cringy puns and flashing finger guns, she bit her lip and tugged the target’s suit jacket. It was entirely different from who she was around the team on base, and Soap had made sure to emphasize that all bloody night. Even Gaz had chimed in a few times, both men trying to get him to comment. Ghost silently refused, skin flushing under his mask.

Now that she was closing in on the target, things had become even more heated. He looked at her through the scope again and listened. Ghost heard her laugh, the sound bubblier than the champagne in the flute she raised to her pretty lips. She took a sip right as Soap said the punchline of a joke, her shoulders rising and falling sporadically with a daintily covered cough. 

“Watch it, you twat, you made her choke,” Ghost snapped.

“Sorry, lass, sorry!” Soap crackled over the comms. There was a rustle. “In my final position. Eyes on Honey and the target, LT.”

“Gaz?”

“In my final position, LT, eyes on the extraction point,” Gaz replied, his voice set and sure.

“Captain Price will leave on your command to meet you and Sergeant MacTavish at the rendezvous point, Lieutenant,” Laswell buzzed in his ear. “Gaz, you go with Honey and the target.”

“Affirmative,” Gaz and Ghost responded.

“Affirmative. And, Laswell, you can call me Soap.”

“Negative, Sergeant.”

“Aye. Copy that, loud and clear.”

“Shut up, Soap.” Ghost grumbled.

They heard Honey giggle in response to another one of the usurper’s idiotic compliments, and Ghost saw her flirtatiously tap his arm with her knuckles. 

“Y’know, if she heard one of us say tha’ in the pub, we’d never hear th’end of it.”

Gaz hummed in agreement with Soap, and he couldn’t help but shake his head and smirk. Honey laughed again and clearly echoed another awful line the target gave her. Ghost could tell the grin splitting her pretty lips wasn’t genuine—her nose didn’t crinkle like it did when he deadpanned the punchline to a stupid joke or when Soap had called Price “Pa” a few weeks ago.

There was snickering over the comms. Ghost boldly asked, “Honey, take a drink if you meant for us t’hear that shite attempt at flirting.”

Soap cackled when the rim of the champagne flute touched her lips and her throat bobbed with a long sip.

“Well?” Gaz asked expectantly.

“Was a yes, Gaz,” Soap responded.

Ghost saw her eyes flutter closed as she pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek, and he grumbled; hopefully nobody had heard him. He was itching to move, his finger hovering over the trigger and his jaw clenching each time the target touched her.

“Right, Honey,” Ghost said, focusing the team again and settling himself down. “Once you’re on the roof, I’ll call Price—Gaz, move on my word or Honey’s, or when Price arrives. Soap, get to the rendezvous when I call Price. I’ll watch Honey and the target. Understood?”

Gaz and Soap gave him their affirmatives. Honey nodded, looking out the window and winking.

She looked back at the target and seductively bit her lip. “Do you think we could go somewhere a bit more…private?” Her query was laced with something sticky.

The target gave her his piss-poor attempt at a sultry smile, resting a hand against her neck and disturbing the necklace Ghost had adjusted earlier. 

He’d be lying if it didn’t make him want to shoot the git dead where he stood.

There was a quiet yes, and Honey said, “I’ve always wanted to be kissed under the stars.” She forced a coquettish giggle. “Well, kiss, and…more, if you catch my drift.”

The target leaned in and pressed a kiss on her right cheek, the act on full display to Ghost.

“That can be arranged, my sweet,” the target murmured, his voice tainting their comms and making Ghost roll his eyes. 

When the target abruptly gripped her waist and pushed her against the window, Ghost heard the faint sound of glass breaking and heard Honey force a playful comment about dropping her flute. Now, Honey’s back was to him, one of her hands flat against the window, her fingers splayed out. His clear shot was ruined. Ghost swore and Soap did as well.

“Target moved too far to my right. Can’t get a clear shot. LT?”

“Negative,” Ghost answered. “Honey, make a fist if you need back-up.”

Normally, he would’ve already had someone storming in to help if he wasn’t already, but Price had made it clear that this mission required tact. Ghost was on edge, but he had to trust Honey, even if the sight unfolding in the scope of his rifle made his skin crawl.

Honey clenched her fist.

“Affirmative. Gaz, Soap, hold your positions. Comms are quiet unless absolutely necessary.”

“Affirmative, LT,” the men immediately replied.

“Extraction is ready on your word. Get out of there—alive,” Laswell stressed over comms. 

“Affirmative,” Ghost sighed, his trigger finger ready and aching to move.

“Not here,” Honey mumbled. Her fist remained clenched, the other hand still clutching her tiny bag. 

She squealed in surprise when one of his hands dropped to grab her ass and squeeze. Ghost sharply inhaled, and he heard Soap clear his throat, holding back from asking for a visual on Honey.

“Not here, Johann,” Honey snapped, the sweetness quickly melting off her voice. “I want you, but I want you to touch me on the roof.”

The target’s other hand grabbed the other hidden cheek, fabric bunching up in his grip. “Want you here, you lovely little thing. Roof can come later.”

Honey gave him the tinkling laugh she shared with the team after showing them a video of a puppy or some other baby animal. Sometimes, Ghost smiled under his balaclava when it was thrown his way—but he’d never tell a soul.

This time, the sunny bells were a warning, and if the target didn’t do as she said, Ghost had a feeling he’d regret more than the coup. 

“If you say so.” Her voice was uncharacteristically dark, its hidden sharp edges revealed.

“Gaz, Soap, be ready for my word,” Ghost said as Honey pushed forward, her heel pressing her dress’s hem against the window.

Just as they both responded, a howl pierced the comms, making Ghost wince. The target was doubled over, and Honey was kicking off her heels, sending them flying towards the windows across the hall. She took a lunging step forward over the broken glass and adjusted her body before throwing a punch to the target’s left cheek. He staggered up and took an angry, sloppy swing at her, but she dodged it and kicked her heel into his knee to destabilize him so she could gut-punch him. The target dropped to the floor. Ghost’s mouth went dry, and his cock twitched as she grabbed a fistful of the target’s hair.

“We’re going to the goddamn roof,” Honey gritted out. 

When the target gave her a sly smile, she took a step back and let go before punching him again. The corner of Ghost’s mouth twitched with a smile when he saw the target staring at her with fear. She’d literally punched the smile off his ugly mug.

“On your fucking feet,” she growled, and he obliged. 

Though he stood, he fought her the whole way to the stair entrance, and each time, his resistance was met with another blow to the gut. Ghost hummed in approval. This honeybee had a wicked stinger and wasn’t afraid to use it.

When she disappeared from Ghost’s sight—still swearing and commanding the target up the stairs—he made the call to Price, then barked over comms, “Soap, rendezvous. Gaz, be ready to assist if Honey calls for it—and, Honey, Gaz is ready to help restrain the target.”

“Negative, LT,” he heard her pant. 

He saw her push the target through the door and onto the roof’s hidden balcony. Gaz was crouching down where he hid, his feet ready to run and his gun in his hands.

Ghost heard her sharply exhale and barely tracked her hand fly up to the target’s bicep. Then, he saw the target slump down to his knees and fall face-first to the ground. 

“Is the target alive?” Ghost hissed, impressed but angry. “If you killed him—”

“Affirmative, LT,” she interjected, catching her breath and pulling an orange bag out of her clutch and depositing something in it. “Just a sedative. He’s gonna take a nice nap during the flight home.”

She hummed a random tune—her favorite song, Ghost noticed—as she put the bag back in her clutch. Honey waved at Gaz when he came out of hiding and walked over to her. Ghost saw her nudge the target with a bare foot and proudly put her hands on her hips.

“Bloody hell, Honey!” Gaz exclaimed, shaking his head. “Did Price know?”

“Affirmative,” Price boomed through the comms. 

The helicopter came into view and Ghost stood up with a huff, slinging his rifle back across his body. He could see them helping Honey up onto the hovering ramp, her dress blowing in the wind. He chuckled before turning running into the forest behind him towards the rendezvous point.

“Headed your way, Lieutenant.”

“Affirmative, Captain,” Ghost replied as he came to a halt next to Soap in the clearing. 

“LT!” Soap exclaimed, yanking his earpiece out, mouth agape. “Th’fuck I’d miss?”

“Ask Gaz,” he said simply, earning a groan from Soap.

The chopper thrummed overhead as it descended. They ran towards the ramp as it lowered, Honey’s triumphant face illuminated by the hold’s red light. Ghost climbed in and sat beside her with a grunt. 

Once they were airborne and starting their flight back to base, Gaz described the scene Soap had only heard. Ghost noticed her diamond necklace was askew from her skirmish and hesitantly centered it. She gave him a soft smile and turned her head so her chin grazed over his covered knuckles. The gentle hum she gave him coated him in sticky-sweet syrup. “Honey” certainly was a perfect codename for her, he reckoned, contrasting her innocent sweetness and cutesy smiles with her impressive—and, at times, lethal—infiltration skills. 

Yeah, Ghost was stuck in her treacly trap—and he didn’t plan on escaping.

masterlist

taglist (join here): @tizylish @dheet @sinfulsalutations

[jamdoughnutmagician]

The Boy Is Mine (Claudia's Edition)

this is my entry for @carolmunson 's writing exercise where we all use the same prompts to write a date night fic with Eddie in the trailer.

Very hastily written over last night and this morning, so apologies for any mistakes!

Word Count:1,204

Eddie Munson Masterlist // Masterlist

Wayne had slid Eddie an all-too knowing wink as he made his way out of the trailer door. He had told Eddie that he was taking a small vacation, a fishing trip out of state with some of his old work buddies. Bringing Eddie into a quick hug before leaving Wayne nods towards his nephew.

“You’re the man of the house for the next few days, son, try not to burn down the place whilst i’m gone.”

Eddie nods, his wild curls bouncing as he does.

“Understood.” Eddie smiles. “Now, go! You have fun with your fishing buddies, I can take care of things from here, trust me.”

“Alright alright! I’m going!” Wayne grumbles as he loads his fishing gear into the back of the car before driving away.

“Alright and for zee beautiful lady, my famous spaghetti and meatballs.” Eddie says in his best fancy french accent as he rounds the small dining table, placing a generous plating of pasta in front of you.

Your back sinks against the soft throw pillow plumped against the harsh back of the wooden dining chair. 

Eddie had insisted on cooking for you for a special date night, calling you up to come over because he said he had a special surprise planned for you, and to wear something fancy.

So you pulled on your nicest dress from your wardrobe, the dainty blue floral one that you knew Eddie liked seeing you in, if his big brown eyes were any give away, the way they roamed over the expanse of exposed skin every time you wore it. 

Excitedly knocking your knuckles against the rickety trailer door you heard the enthusiastic shout from your boyfriend from inside.

“I’ll be there in a minute!” comes his voice, sounding as if he was working very hard behind closed doors.

Suddenly the door swings open and there stands your boyfriend, his messy hair tied back into a loose bun at the nape of his neck, a few stray curls falling down to frame his face. His slender frame is covered in a tight black shirt and his usual dark ripped jeans, but it’s not that that catches your attention, no, it’s the white ‘kiss the cook’ apron decorated with various splotchy stains that has you cocking your head in interest. A small spiral notebook hangs off his apron where it's tied around his waist, looking every part waiter-and-chef all rolled into one.

“Come in, Welcome to Chez Munson” he smiles broadly, his white teeth pulling against the curve of his bottom lip.

“Welcome madame, let me show you to your seat.” he says as he guides you into the small dining area he’s set up in the kitchen, complete with a single rose dropped into an empty coke bottle.

“Eddie..”

“I know, I know, it's just we never really get time to ourselves anymore, we've both been so busy lately, and I just wanted to treat my favourite girl.”

“Eddie, it's perfect!” You beam, leaning up to kiss his cheek, feeling his flushed cheeks smile against your lips.

Just as he's about to sit down in the seat opposite you, he bounces back to his feet.

“I almost forgot!” He babbles as he reaches into the fridge to retrieve a bottle of wine. “Harrington helped me pick it out, but I think he just chose this because there was a picture of an lion on the label” he chuckles.

Then for a brief moment you hear him clinking around in the kitchen cabinets in search of some wine glasses.

“Okay..” he huffs “so, like, I ran out of nice cups, is this okay?” He asks as he places down two mugs on the table. His favourite Garfield mug for him, and a red race-car mug for you, from that time when Wayne took Eddie to the Indy 500 a few years back.

He cracks open the bottle and pours a few drops in each mug, before sitting down opposite you.

“Cheers!” He grins, lifting his mug up.

You clink your mug against his and return his cheer. 

You watch as he reaches for the small tub of grated parmesan on the table before sprinkling it on top of his pasta.

“And you like that, huh?” you wrinkle your nose in disgust at his choice of topping.

“What can I say, Sweetheart, I've got a refined palette.” He laughs before twirling up a forkful of noodles.

You dig into your dinner and it's surprisingly delicious. Truly a testament to how hard he'd worked to put together the whole meal for you.

“Y’know, this is the most romantic thing anyone has ever done for me.” you tell him earnestly.

“Well I just wanted to make you smile, know you’ve been busy working those late night shifts at the diner, and I’m not always the best boyfriend-”

“Aw, no, Honey. Don’t be like that. That’s not true at all.” you stop him before he can discredit himself, and talk himself down, as he often found himself doing.

He looks up at you from underneath his dark eyelashes.

“Eddie, you are the best boyfriend, the only boyfriend, I’ve ever had.” It’s true, you had met Eddie when you were a new student who had just moved into Hawkins and were trying to navigate your way through a new school half-way through the academic year. He was the one who befriended you and that friendship had gone from strength to strength until neither of you could ignore the feelings you both felt for one another anymore. 

“But the fact that you have been my only boyfriend, doesn’t mean that you haven’t been the absolute best boyfriend in my eyes. You make me laugh, you’re sweet and kind, you make me feel safe, and most importantly you make me feel so loved.”

He reaches his hand across the table, taking your hand in his and kissing his lips softly against the back of your hand.

“I think the same of you too, Sweetheart. You’re it for me. You’re my forever girl. Want you in my life always, I mean it.”

“And now for dessert.” he says as he places down a slice of vanilla sponge cake, complete with gooey vanilla frosting and a cherry on top. “Although I can’t claim this one as my own, compliments go to the bakers at Walmart for this one.”

As you both enjoy your desserts in comfortable silence, you can’t help but let your foot trail up his leg underneath the table, teasingly playing with him whilst you smile innocently at him from across the table.

“If you don’t stop that, we’re going to have a problem here, Sweetheart.” his voice drops to a husky low rumble, his pink lips curving into a smile.

“Maybe, I want something else for dessert too..” you tease him. 

“Let me clear away these plates, you go ahead and wait in the bedroom. I’ve been dying to rip that dress off you since you stepped through the door.” he smirks, his dark eyes raking over you.

Excitedly you jump up from your seat, and make your way over to him, kissing him on his cheek before whispering in his ear.

“Don’t keep me waiting, Teddy.”

@mrsjellymunson @penguinsandpotterheads @ali-r3n @seatnights @xxbimbobunnyxx @impmunson @paybacksawitch @heydreamchild

[sweetbillwriting]

In The Dead of Night

EIGHT

Characters: AU Eric played by Bill Skarsgård from The Crow (2024)

Setting: This story is set in A WHOLE OTHER WORLD than the movie. Shelley isn't a part of this story. Eric will be different from the movie, especially because I haven't seen the movie.

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, heavy themes.

Notes: This chapter can be triggering!

I wanted to stand close to Eric and let all the feelings out against his shoulder, but Odin, that stupid dog, destroyed it. Suddenly he had woken up from his bed and realized there was a big bird sitting in the open window, on his favorite person's knee, and he barked loudly. Crow jumped, and with an irritated caw, he flew away and left just the scratch marks on Eric's knee behind.

Eric quickly let go of me to give Odin a look.

“Go to bed.”

He didn't sound irritated or shouted like Robin usually did; he sounded more cold and authoritarian. Odin dropped his ears, and with a low head, he walked to his bed. I had never seen him act like that and I stared in astonishment. Eric really was something else.

“I'm sorry, honey… I just needed to,” he excused himself, like it was his dog who had barked. He stood up and hugged me close so I could lay against his safe chest. I looked up at him after a minute and dried my cheeks again.

“Can't you tell me more about you? You know almost my whole family tree.”

It was true. Eric had a big interest in knowing all kinds of things about me but succeeded in making it all about me instead of letting me know anything about him. He looked away for a few seconds but then looked down at me and nodded.

“Yeah… Yeah.” He continued to nod but swallowed hard. I could see it was hard for him to visit old memories, but it would be good for him to talk about it all, to see it for what it is, and not go around with anxiety the whole time.

×××

In his wardrobe, among trashed t-shirts and classic sneakers, he took out an old Converse shoe box. It looked like it had stayed with him for a while, and when I saw the shoe size text on the side of the box, I understood it must be really old or someone else's. It must have been a while since he wore size 7.

Eric sat down next to me in bed; he was in just black boxers, and I was dressed in the purple t-shirt he wore the day before. Both of us looked at the box like it was something mythical, and after he had dragged his hands over it a couple of times, he opened it. It was mostly photos in it, some birthday cards but also a toy car, an action figure I didn't know the name of, and a little Asian figurine—a man with a sword.

“So… This is my childhood.” He said it silly, like it was a joke, but I understood he did that just to cover up the other feelings. I dragged my hand over his forearm and laid my hands over his that lay in a fist with the other one in his lap, where he sat in a lotus position.

“Can I look?” I asked carefully.

“Yeah, it's nothing, nothing special,” he said with a shoulder shrug and looked away. I knew he just said that because he was awkward; both he and I knew his childhood had not been like mine.

“That's the very first picture of me. That I know of,” he said with a small smile and pointed at the picture in my hand. It was a big eyed little boy in a sweatshirt set. It looked really 90s in a washed-out green color. He stood in the middle of a living room, next to a brown leather couch and also a baby walker in light blue.

“It's… It's at my foster parents’ house. I couldn't walk yet when I came to them, so… So… So they started to teach me that.”

I crawled closer to him and looked at him with big eyes. I wanted him to feel safe with me, and when he looked at me with glassy eyes, I knew he felt that. I kissed his cheek and lips, and he breathed deeply before continuing to talk.

“I hadn't learned to say anything either, so they taught me that too. No one really knows why I was so late with everything because my biological mom, Linda, never said anything about it. I just know what Lotti and Eric, my foster parents, have told me. I was healthy and so on, or I weighed too little, but nothing that serious ehm…”

“But why did you have foster parents?” I asked carefully. It felt weird that I already knew so much but was forced to pretend. If I didn't… I didn't even want to think about what would happen if he found out that I already knew some of his history.

“Linda, my biological mother, did a few months in prison for dealing drugs, so I moved to Lotti and Eric and then continued to visit them until I was nine, and I moved there and visited Linda instead. I don't really know why it happened then,” he shrugged his shoulders. “It was a fucking hell living with her for all those years, but no one cared. More than Lotti and Eric then or… Mom and Dad, like I started to call them…”

“You can call them that; if you see them as your parents, you should call them that.”

Eric shook his head and started to look through the photos by himself until he found a picture of him with them, but also Robin. They stood outside of the house together with the parents behind the kids. It looked really arranged, and both the boys had white button-ups and black pants. It looked like they were maybe six and eight years old.

“I don't have the right to call them that anymore. This is from Eric's brother Albert's wedding, or before we went there. It was a neighbor who took the picture.” It was obvious he spoke quickly so he didn't need to talk about why he didn't call them his parents anymore, but I had my guess.

“That's Robin, their real son. Ehm…” He laughed a little and looked closer at Robin's big smile in the picture while he himself looked terrified, holding his father's hand close to his face. “He was… We had fun when we were kids. He really took care of me, but… I don't know, something changed, and I guess he wanted his parents for himself.” He said it with a shoulder shrug like it was a natural thing, even the most natural thing, like he maybe didn't have anything to do there.

“I was trash. Or was,” he laughed sarcastically and rubbed his eye. “I guess he started to get what I was. I was an addict's son. I was a prostitute's son… I came home to them smelling like filth and had bruises from my mom's Johns and ate so much I puked on their floor…” Eric looked down at the pictures he had spread out in front of him. It looked like normal family pictures, just that he was too thin when he was little, and when he got older, he had visible bruises on his limbs. I sat and looked at the pictures too, so when Eric suddenly sobbed, it came as a surprise. He bent his face into his hands and cried silently, but his shoulders bobbed. I dragged him close to me with my heart beating heavy in my chest. Fucking Robin. Fucking stupid Robin, who thought he was a victim. Who thought he got too little love?

I hushed Eric soothingly and dragged my hands through his hair until he had calmed down. He looked at me with red eyes and wiped his nose against the back of his hand.

“I get that he hated me because his parents were so nice to me… And, and I didn't deserve it because… I wasn't one of them. I'm still not one of them. I'm…” he looked at me and smiled a little. “I am white trash, a junkie, filth, and… just.. A load for everyone… Why are you even here?” He said the last sentence like it was a joke, with his tears streaming. I looked at the beautiful, kind, sensitive man in front of me and kissed his face over and over.

“Don't talk about yourself like that. You're magic. You're pure fucking magic. You are love,” I said and looked him deep in the eyes. “You're the best man I've ever met.”

×××

We laid close together, making out so deeply it felt like I was on my way to crawl inside of him. If I could, I would have. He really was the best man I've ever met. He cared so much; he listened to everything I said and always wanted to do better. Many men didn't even know what that meant. I wanted him deep inside of me, as deep as he could, and I took off my clothes quite fast, and then I dragged his boxers down too. He let me hold the rail and let me sit down slowly on his hard cock. Even if I was really wet, it was a bit of a struggle, and I made a long, dragged-out sound with both pain and pleasure. He looked at me with big eyes, and they got heavy when I finally had taken so much I could of him.

“Your pretty pussy… Never thought I would get a pussy like yours…” he said and sat up which helped me take even more of him. I could feel him stab my cervix with the head of his cock, but he didn't say anything about my little pained sound; he was used to it.

“Bad boy…” I whispered and took his head between my hands while I started to rock my hips against him. “Bad bad boy…” I moaned loudly while he had started to lift me and lower me a little, assisting me to ride him. Eric nodded a little but looked at me with big tearfilled eyes. He begged for kisses silently, and I kissed him over and over, in the rhythm of my rolling hips.

“Do you love me? Say that you love me,” he said with his softest voice. At the same time, he pushed me backwards so he could hammer his hips much faster. I moaned loudly by his fast, hard movement.

“Say that you love me,” he said with a whinier voice. He laid his hand on my mound, pushed down a bit, and let his thumb find my clit to play with.

“Yeah, yeah, I love you, Eric, I love you so so much…” I moaned and leaned back completely, letting the orgasm take over. It was true that I loved him, and I had done that even before I met him, but that I couldn't say to him. “I love you,” I said again before feeling in my toes the orgasm creeping up on me and then exploding in my sex and running through the rest of my body.

×××

As usual, I snuck away from Eric after our lovemaking to refresh and also let his seed drip out from me in a better place than under me in bed. I hoped we could continue to cuddle and talk about him, but when I came out, he stood in the hallway in running gear, and Odin was on a leash around his waist.

“He needs to pee, so we’re going out for a bit; is that okay?” He asked while Odin whined in anticipation.

“Oh, yeah, of course,” I said and walked up to him, close to his body. Eric smiled a little and lifted my chin with two fingers. It was a little sign I could stand up on my toes and get a kiss. We kissed a few times before they left me.

I went back to bed, took the Converse box again, and looked around at the pictures. The most were such ordinary family pictures you could easily miss what the pictures also told you. Little Eric held his parents hands so hard his fingertips became white, Lotti's eyes at him with worry and love. His father Eric’s protectiveness. He carried him even when he was probably a bit too old for it, but he also was quite little and thin, so it wasn't that hard.

I looked at a few pictures of him in his teens. One was a picture of him and Robin, standing in the same place they did in the picture Lotti had on her wall, but in this picture Eric maybe was fourteen and still shorter than Robin. His hair was black and laid down to his shoulders. It looked like he had then cut it in layers with the kitchen scissors. He had smeared black eyeliner around his eyes and dressed in a black hoodie. Robin stood next to him in a light blue polo shirt and a perfect side bang, as the fashion was then. They could have been brothers, but it didn't look like there was much love between them. A wall of air was between them, and neither of them smiled. There was also one more thing that made it obvious their lives weren't like brothers; Robin glowed with health, but Eric had dark rings under his eyes and cracked lips, but also, if you looked closely, you could see a faint bruise on his neck. I knew he was doing martial arts, but something told me this wasn't from that. The look in his eyes said to me things happened in his life then.

There was also a picture of him a few years later. He had stretched out then and had a neon green buzz cut. Next to him stood Lotti, pulling him down in an embrace. Eric was actually laughing in the picture. I dragged my finger over his young, happy face but also the System of a Down t-shirt he wore.

It was obvious he loved his mom Lotti so much, so that he didn't have contact with her today I couldn't understand. He looked like a Mama's boy, and on top of that, he needed so much love because he had been mistreated by others so much.

Eric needed love. I decided to do something special for my man and made myself ready to do some grocery shopping. I would do something really warm and comforting to him. A rich stew that could boil for a long time and make a playful dessert. Just when I was ready to go, Eric and Odin came in through the door, panting heavily. He looked at me a bit surprised where I stood dressed, and with makeup on, he probably expected me to have crawled down in bed again.

“Hey, where are you going? It’s just nine o’clock?”

“I must fix it for dinner tonight,” I said with a little secret smile. Eric looked at me with a broad smile.

“Yeah?” He dried his face with the edge of his t-shirt so I could see his abs. He didn't do it on purpose, but I couldn't stop myself from staring.

“Mm,” I looked up at him, distracted by his body. He nodded a little.

“Do you want help? I just need to shower,” he said in that sweet way he always did. I didn't want to think it, but I did; I could understand why he was Lotti's favorite son.

“I can handle it.”

“Okay, but call otherwise.”

I nodded with a little smile. I walked up to him to touch his lips with mine again and let the scent of his sweat engulf me. I loved his smell, even his sweat, and felt the butterflies in my belly get intoxicated by it. He could drive me crazy without even trying.

×××

“Okay, I need your help!” I said on the phone, panting loudly. It had become far too heavy, with wine bottles and flour and other heavy items. With my bad shoulders, I hadn't succeeded in carrying it for so long.

“Of course, baby. Did you take the regular way?” He said it sweetly, and I could hear him getting ready in the background.

“Yeah, I'm by that Chinese restaurant.”

“Okay, I'm coming as fast as I can.”

Even if Eric could overthink what others thought about him, he could also do things that made people react. His impulses were not always the best, and this time it had made him go out without a shirt. I saw people looking at him when he came walking with long strides. He had a pair of washed-out black Adidas sweatpants and high-top Vans in the same color. His skin was still shiny from sweat, and his hair stood in all directions.

“Where is your shirt?” I said with a smirk while an older lady stared at his badly done tattoos.

“I was working out, and it was too hot to put one on… Didn't expect people would react to it…” He looked around a little anxiously but lowered his eyes to the shopping bags to be able to ignore people's judging eyes.

“Why did you shop so much?”

“I'm going to make a chocolate cake!” I said happily and made him look up at me with a smile.

“You know I don't eat such things,” he said teasingly.

“Mhm, I'm going to force you. You need some chocolate in your life.” He laughed and stood up, moving closer to me so I could press my body against his. I could feel he didn't have any underwear on but that I had registered already; it was hard to hide for him. He kissed me deeply, and just like he usually did, I also forgot the people around us and made out erotically in the middle of the street with him. I touched his sweaty body with deep desire and even thought about being mean by dragging my hand over his crotch.

“Della?” I heard Demi say next to us, and for a moment I thought I had just imagined it until she said my name again. Eric released my lips with a smack, and the both of us looked at my sister and her two daughters instead. Demi just looked at Eric up and down. His clammy skin, the awful tattoos, and his sweaty hair. His sweatpants sat way too low, and the bulge in them was exposed way too much. God. God. Oh god. Why now?

“Hey, hey. I'm, I'm Eric,” he said nervously and put out a hand towards Demi, a hand she didn't take, instead, she looked at me.

“I think we should continue to our brunch with some friends,” she said and looked at me with disappointment in her eyes. Her daughters stared at Eric like he was a part of the circus, and in his discomfort, he scratched the back of his head and at the same time exposed the dark hair in his armpit. Demi gave him a fast look and then a pointed gaze at me. In the corner of my eyes, I could see that Eric noticed her judging eyes, and he lowered his gaze, starting to move around the bags like he searched for the handles. I looked at Demi hurt, but she didn't seem to care.

“We should go now. Bye,” said she and steered her daughters forward.

“Bye…” I said lowly but cared more about my boyfriend at that moment. I didn't even want to think about the awful anxiety my sister must have given him.

We walked in silence home, Eric with a low gaze. I more or less just watched him. I could feel his anxiety scream and knew he now felt everyone else's judging looks too.

“Is it okay if I just take a smoke?” He said when we came in through the door. Odin stood close to him, and Eric caressed his ear lovingly.

“Yeah, of course.”

He took the first best jacket he could find, his long coat, and then jumped out from the window, out to the roof. I knew now he had the roof to a lower part of the building just outside of the window, and he walked out to the edge and sat down with his legs hanging down the ledge of the five-story house. I hated when he did that. It scared me looking at him sitting so close to his death. I wondered if he thought about suicide when he sat there or if he just fantasized about needles. I understood he had done stupid things in life to silence the demon from his past, but by doing that he had new demons. He wanted life to change, but every time he felt mistreated, he took that as a sign he would always be the same guy. I looked at him sitting on the edge, dressed in black, with Crow sitting not far from him. Once again, he looked like something from a dream, and I couldn't stop myself from thinking that maybe there was something strange with him. Odin whined next to me, obviously missing his daddy, and I patted him comfortingly. Eric's anxiety affected us all, and I knew I would do everything to make it go away.

×××

I didn't make a chocolate cake; it wasn't the right moment, but I made my stew, and he ate with appetite, but he was much more quiet. He was still as polite and thanked me for a lovely dinner, but other than that, he seemed to just have his own thoughts as company. I was so angry at Demi and sent her several angry messages about how awful she had treated him, but she didn't even answer. He lay on top of the bed with Odin next to him. His speaker played Emma Ruth Rundle, and between his lips was a joint. I stood and looked at him in silence. This was the worst part of being with him. He should have probably been with a girl more like him, not a middle class girl with a perfect balayage.

I crawled up next to him and laid my cheek on his naked chest. He had showered now and just had on sweatpants now too, another pair of black ones but with a red calligraphy text along one of the legs.

“I'm sorry about my sister… It's she who is awful. She judges everyone so hard.”

It wasn't really true; I had just noticed it when it came to addicts and criminals. Eric just nodded a little and took a deep toke. I looked at him and the joint between his tattooed fingers. I know it wasn't good that he treated his anxiety with another drug, but I didn't dare to tell him that; maybe he would do something even more stupid then. With weed, I know where I had him.

“I'm sorry…” I said again and snuggled into his neck. Eric smiled calmly and looked at me with heavy eyes.

“It's okay…” He patted my cheek softly but then leaned back against the pillow again and took one more drag. I didn't really trust his words and felt a worry spread in me. I couldn't go back to ignorant, narcissistic men after being with a guy like Eric. I looked at him and dragged my hand over his chest and down over his stomach. He was so perfect. I looked at his face when I dragged the palm of my hand over his crotch. I succeeded in making him breathe even deeper, and he smirked a little when he started to grow under my hand. With a bit of help from him, I pulled down the sweatpants, so he lay completely naked in front of me. I didn't care that he had weird tattoos, I just saw him. That wonderful soul and his amazing body. I crawled down between his legs and looked at his cock closely. It was so beautiful, and I saw it as a pleasure to take him in my mouth. He moaned deeply when I deep throated him at once, and I felt his hand push my head down a bit deeper. He was braver when he smoked, as I've noticed before, and soon he fucked my mouth deeply. He stopped when he heard me being in some sort of distress, but when I took him again, he continued. He grunted loudly, and when he came, he did it without warning. It wasn't on purpose, more that it came so suddenly he wasn't even prepared for it, but I drank his cum like it was the wine from the holy grail and licked my lips so nothing would go to waste. 

××× 

I thought the weed and the blowjob would be enough. I thought I could push away the childhood demons I had forced him to talk about, and I thought it would make my sister's judging eyes mean nothing, but I was wrong. I had fallen asleep on his chest after we had made out some after I had gone down on him. He had fallen asleep quite fast, but now I could hear that he was awake. He didn't lay in bed, and I looked towards the window to see if he had a nightly visit from Crow again, but instead I saw him sitting on the couch, and I felt a hard stab in my sternum. He sat with his belt tied around his arm, tightening it harder and harder around his upper arm. I could hear him moan between his sobs. I tried to see if he had a syringe, but he didn't; he just sat and tightened the belt like he had one. I cried silently and laid my hands over my mouth so he wouldn't hear my sobs, even if I believed he was too far gone in his anxiety to hear. He continued for a while, but it clearly wasn't enough, and I saw him remove the belt from his arm to his neck. When he started to tighten the belt and I understood what he was doing, I acted on impulse. 

“No, no, no, no, no!” I screamed through my tears, jumped up from bed, and harshly pulled off the belt that had started to block his breathing. Eric coughed through his anxious breathing, and I took his face in my hands. 

“Why are you doing this?? Why are you doing this??” I screamed but didn't get an answer; he just cried hysterically. I hugged him hard against my chest, and after a few minutes of lying there, he had started to breathe in the same rhythm as my heart. The heart he owned. I led him to bed and let him crawl close to me under the covers, and I breathed as calmly as I could to help him breathe the same way. It took some time before he fell asleep, but when he did, he slept hard and laid heavy against me. While he was sleeping, I lifted the cover to look at his arm, where a deep imprint of the belt could be seen; it would probably become bruised. Then I looked at his neck carefully and could see marks even there—marks I recognized from one of the pictures. This was nothing new for him. He had self-harmed for more than half of his life. I looked at his sleeping face. I would do anything to heal him, just like Lotti and Eric had, the question was if I could. 

××× 

We lay close together with our foreheads against each other and breathed in each other's air. We hadn't talked yet that day, but there wasn't much to say either. I wouldn't pressure him to talk; it wouldn't lead to anything good. The important thing was that he wanted to be with me and now seemed okay. I dragged my fingertips through his hair, feeling the different length through my fingers. 

“I love you,” he whispered and looked me deep in my eyes. His eyes were full of love, even if they looked exhausted. 

“I love you too. Maybe even, most in the entire world,” I said and dragged my nails down over his neck. Eric smiled a little blushy but then looked down. 

“I know you must go home today, but… Can't you stay here with me? One more night? I don't want to be alone…” He whispered in shame. 

I looked at the place on his upper arm where a bruise started to form, and I nodded without thinking more than that Eric needed me. 

“Of course. Of course, baby.” 

He looked at me with big, thankful eyes and then kissed my lips innocently. 

When he took Odin on his morning walk, I prepared myself to call Desiree and tell her Eric had become sick and I needed to care for him. It wasn't often a grown man needed to get care at home, so I prepared myself for questions. I also had mixed feelings about letting Eric go out with Odin. Just a few hours ago I had seen him strangle himself with a belt, and it didn't feel safe at all to leave him alone, but I couldn't decide that, and I knew Odin was good for him. 

I took a deep breath to talk to Desiree but didn't get the response I had thought. She gave me a fast “okay” because she wanted to get to another part of the conversation. 

“Demi said she had met you two out,” she said, nosily. “You should hear how she described him!” She said it with a laugh. I didn't say anything because I expected Desiree to be like Demi, but… 

"God, is she a hundred years old? Who doesn’t have tattoos these days? Even on the face! Shit, what an old hag she is!” She joked with a laugh, so I laughed too, with relief. 

“Can't you bring him here? We want to meet him! You haven't had a dude in ages!” I laughed a little unsure until I thought about what she had said. 

“‘We’?” 

“Yes! All of us at the salon. Demi said he has an interesting haircut too!” 

I didn't really hear what she said in the end because I just thought about Robin. My best friend. He didn't feel like my best friend anymore after hearing Eric talk about him. It was strange, but Eric had so quickly become the most important person in my life, and anyone who hurt him also hurt me. But I wanted Eric to meet the girls. Even if he wasn't what people expected, I was proud of him; people just needed to give him a chance. He was a dream; so sweet, caring, and trustworthy. Silly and playful. If they gave him an honest chance, like it sounded like they would, they would see he was the right guy for me. I got an idea that maybe wouldn't work at all, but it felt like I needed to try. I wanted to have a real relationship with Eric, and I wanted him to meet my friends and family. 

“Halloween maybe?” 

I knew Robin would go away then, to celebrate with other friends. 

“That's perfect! Meeting your spooky boyfriend on halloween!” Said she with a giggle. I laughed too, even if I was nervous as hell. It was just in two weeks, and I hoped Eric would be ready for that. 

×

[acapelladitty]

coup de foudre

Pairing: Riddler/Reader (& Scarecrow)

Summary: Drinking in the Iceberg Lounge, Edward and Jonathan set their sights on an unsuspecting woman and decide to engage in a 'friendly' competition to win her affections. (2.8k words)

“You’re annoying me.”

Blinking his surprise at the unexpected comment, Edward tilted his head back to the booth as he fixed Jonathan with a questioning stare.

“You say that so often that those words have lost meaning, Crane.”

Visibly irritated, Jonathan Crane knit his brow as he followed Edward’s earlier gaze, his sharp eyes sweeping across the Iceberg Lounge.

“I have asked you the same question twice now and twice you have ignored me. So now I want to see what has captured your interest so much that you would risk missing information.”

Jonathan’s eyes settled on the few patrons who sought refuge at the high stools of the bar.

A young couple, their hands disgustingly wrapped up in each other as they giggled at something asinine.

An older goon, his unflinching dedication to his ongoing alcoholism making him a familiar sight at the bar as he worked part-time security for Oswald in exchange for a discount on certain liquors.

A brunette woman, her shapely legs tilted to the side as she carefully adjusted the dark skirt which lay tight against her thighs-

“Ah.” Jonathan tutted. “Nygma, you pathetic beast.”

“What nonsense has captured your meagre brain now?”

“Is your attention so fleeting that you would ignore a known killer in favour of making eyes at some pretty little thing sitting at a bar herself?”

It was Edward’s turn to scowl, and he did so with open contempt, his coiffed hair jiggling in place as he turned sharply to look at the woman again.

“Some of us enjoy the company of others, Crane. We aren’t so closed off the concept of human pleasure and connection.”

“So you want to fuck her?” Pairing his vulgarity with a swig of his whisky, Jonathan took sadistic pleasure in the slight hint of surprise which crept into Edward’s features. “She’s pretty. Are you so pathetic that you’re afraid of rejection?”

“Rejection? No. But experience has taught me to take care when sniffing around the types of women who frequent this lounge. There have been,” Edward paused, “situations.”

His interest piqued; Jonathan tapped the table in impatience as he awaited a further explanation.

“Some expected payment after the act. One had a husband return home early and spoil the arrangement. One even pulled a gun on me and stole my wallet.”

Jonathan barely hid his derisive snort. “How is Selina getting on this holiday period?”

“Hilarious.” Edward tasted his gin with downturned lips. “We both know she doesn’t need a gun to take a wallet from a man.”

“Brown hair. Blue eyes. Attractive. Very unlike yourself.” Listing off the unknown woman’s qualities, Jonathan could see the appeal. Her short dark skirt was paired with a deep blue shirt – the material very satin-like as the breeze of passing patrons made it shift across her back. Sensing an opportunity for cruelty, Jonathan adjusted the wire-rimmed glasses which sat atop his nose and smoothed the wilder edges of his hair before quickly standing to his feet. “If you are too much of a coward to move then perhaps I should show the lady a good time.”

Striding towards the bar with purpose, Jonathan blatantly ignored the irritated call of his name from the now-incensed Edward as he slammed an open palm on the booth table.

x-x-x-x-x

With the music fading as the hired band set up for a new song, the cocktail within your hand felt comfortably chilled as you bring it to your lips and take a long sip. The Iceberg Lounge. Not a usual haunt which you found yourself in but the weeknight specials had proven too tempting to ignore – reputation of the establishment be damned.

Your shirt felt nice against your skin, providing a good barrier to the chill of the lounge and its ice theme. Three cocktails in with very little plan on stopping, the idea of enjoying the atmosphere and maybe scoring a quick takeaway on the path home was appealing enough to make a soft sigh slip free of your lips.

A presence to your side makes you turn in place, and you find the barstool next to your own filled by an incredibly tall man, his profile showcasing his sharp chin and large nose as he caught the eye of the barman.

“Whisky. Top shelf. Three fingers.” A set of instructions which were quickly followed as he soon found himself with a tumbler glass full of amber liquid being pressed into his thin hands.

Wearing a brown suit, the colour feeling a little dated as it were paired with a lighter brown shirt, the man seemed quite comfortable as he took the drink and quickly inhaled a sip, clearly allowing the liquor to sit in his mouth for a moment before swallowing.

“Good evening.”

Startled, your eyes widen as you realise that the man is speaking to you directly – his head having turned to showcase wire-rimmed glasses that did nothing to hide a crystal blue gaze which sparks a shiver low in your spine.

“Hi.”

“It’s nice in here, isn’t it.”

Blushing at the attention, you find yourself pressing your legs together as you turn your body to meet your new friend.

“Seems nice enough, Mr?”

“Call me Jonathan.” His expression is warm, inviting in a very particular way even as you get the feeling that this is a man who is used to getting what he wanted from those around him.

“Hi, Jonathan.” You incline your glass to him as you adjust the simple silver bracelet which hangs around your wrist. “What brings you here on a weeknight?”

“I’m a professor by trade and the last batch of essays that I received have pushed me to drink.” Jonathan answers in a deadpan tone.

Laughing at the answer, your eyes dip low before travelling up his frame as they admire just how tall he is.

“A professor! Wow! Of?”

“Psychology.”

“Oh, interesting!” Perking up at that information, you allow the alcohol in your system to do the speaking. “Can you tell me something about myself that you already know?”

His gaze once again rolls across your face and you giggle despite yourself.

“I can tell you’re a woman who isn’t afraid to drink by herself in a bar full of monsters and criminals.”

“Jon!” A second voice joined your conversation as another man approached from behind Jonathan’s back, his hand clapping on his thin shoulder for a moment as a wide grin split his lips. “I was hoping to catch you here! I got a message from your wife last night asking for me to remind you that her alimony is due and that the kids aren’t happy that you stiffed them this weekend for your court-ordered visits. Again.”

Dropping into the available stool to your right, the red-haired man continued to speak but this time in a much more hushed tone as he leaned across your space while keeping a sensible difference.

“She’s a hellcat that one! Pamela doesn’t mince her words! I won’t repeat what she said in the presence of such a lovely lady,” he paused to flash you a small smile, “but I think you’d better toddle off and give her a ring before she comes down here herself to drag your wallet from your spindly fingers.”

Turning back to Jonathan as an unease settles in your gut, your eyes widen in surprise once again as his previously warm expression is gone – utterly eviscerated by the hard lines and scowl which now decorate his features.

“Edward-”

“Come on, pal.” Edward, the new man, continued. “I would head off and sort out your mess before something awful happens.”

To your surprise, Jonathan stands and does exactly that, not bothering to spare you another glance as he stalks away from the bar and settles in a booth far off to the side where he almost disappears into the shadows.

“Nice guy,” Edward mutters, “but far too loose with his morals. A bit too fond of the drink and the ladies. A real shame.”

Feeling a little humiliated that you had been so easily taken in by such a womaniser, your elbows settle on the bar as you take another long drink from your glass, the gin cocktail warming your stomach from the inside out as you feel increasingly more tipsy.

“Any good?” Edward asks, pointing to your glass.

“Hmm? Oh. Yeah. It’s fine enough. A bit expensive mind.”

“I’m not surprised. I know the man who owns the place and he’s not one for allowing even a dime to slip through his fingers.”

“You know the Penguin?”

“I work as a consultant for certain engineering projects and Mr Cobblepot has used me in that role a few times.”

“What’s he like?” Curiosity itching at your tipsy mind, you turn to face Edward as you ask the question.

“Oh, he’s a very complicated man. It would be hard to describe him in a sentence.”

“Then use more than one.”

It’s a cheeky response and it gets a smile from him, his pearly white teeth appearing almost blindingly white in the dimness of the bar.

“Then let me buy you a drink and I will try, what’s your poison?”

“French 75.” Swirling the dregs of your cocktail around the glass, the cloudy liquid swirls away prettily.

“Barkeep, a lovely French 75 for the even lovelier lady.”

x-x-x-x-x

Giggling as your messy fingers struggled to flick on the light to the supply closet, the click of the switch matched the slam of the closing of the door as Edward kicked it shut behind him. Having stumbled down the corridor as Edward guided you loosely with his hands on your shoulders, you had managed to make it past the staff without being seen as you sought out a more private space.

“I don’t normally do this.” You pant, back pressing against the shelves of extra napkins and tablecloths. “I hope you don’t think the worst of me.”

His red hair almost glowing under the lightbulb which shoddily lit the small space, Edward quirked a brow at your insistence but said nothing as he took a step towards you. The deep green suit which wrapped around his frame seemed much darker in the dimness and butterflies fluttered around your stomach as he dipped his head to catch your lips in his own.

It was a filthy kiss; his tongue immediately demanding entrance into your mouth as his firm hands dug themselves into your hips, holding you in place as he pressed his body against your own. Allowing him to lead, you bring your hands to his chest, playfully undoing his dark tie and dropping it to the floor before ruching your skirt up slightly to allow his knee to plant itself between your legs.

“Did you think you would end up here?” Edward spoke finally, his showman voice having deepened to something approaching a growl. “Being fucked in a supply closet by a man your barely know?”

“Think?” You gasp out as his hands slip down from your hips to hike your skirt up fully, exposing your black cotton panties to his wandering fingers. “No. But i’m an optimist.”

“You have a smart mouth.” Edward muses, emerald eyes flashing as he swipes his thumb along your lower lip. “Maybe it would be better suited elsewhere.”

Following his lead as his fingers deftly unzip his slacks, he quickly frees his half-hard cock as you drop to your knees – carefully avoiding a nearby mop – and quickly take his cock in hand. You can see the faintest hint of his pubes peeking free of the zipper and an absurd bubble of laughter touches at your throat as you take in their reddish appearance.

A true redhead then.

His cock feels velvety and hot in your hand as you pump along the length for a moment. He was a decent length, nothing unmanageable, and a rumble of pleasure rolls through him as you take the tip of his cock into your mouth – teasing the end with your tongue. Moaning at the slight taste of pre-cum, you suck gently at his cockhead and admire the way in which he jerks his hips forward in an attempt to sink more of his length past your lips.

“Christ.” He grunts and you glance up to see his gaze fixed on your expression. You can see yourself in his eyes, on your knees before him as you willingly suck him off and a flash of arousal curls low in your gut and the dampness of your panties makes your thighs press together.

You work his cock over for a minute, alternating between using your hands and your mouth until he is rock hard and visibly leaking pre-cum.

“Are you going to fuck me now?” You ask, batting your eyelashes up at him as you watch a small bead of sweat trail across his forehead.

“I think you deserve a reward.” He concedes and a short squeal slips free of you as his strong hands grip at your shoulders and pull you up to face him once again. His gaze is clouded by lust and you both grunt as he whirls you in place and rubs himself against your back. “Such pretty girls are never usually this good. Will you be a good girl for me?”

Nodding as a blush crawls across your cheeks and down your neck, the slight praise makes your breath quicken and you spread your knees to allow him to slip your panties free of your ass.

His fingers immediately go to work and you muffle a cry in your forearm as a firm finger trails along your slit, gathering the dampness there before spreading it playfully across your upper thigh. Pleased with how wet you were, his cockhead is quick to follow the finger as it bumps messily against your slit – swiping across your cunt and causing a bolt of pleasure to roll through your groin as it brushes your clit.

“Fuck me, Edward.” You groan out, pressing back against him as you tighten your grip of the shelf. “Please?”

“Such a good girl.” Edward purrs, wrapping his free hand around your body as his fingers come to rest atop your clothed chest – his fingers squeezing at your tit gently as he rolled his hips against your ass. With a quick thrust, he buried himself with you and the sudden discomforting stretch paired with the pleasure of finally having your neglected cunt filled makes your breath catch in your throat.

He immediately sets a quick pace, thrusting himself in such a way that his cock brushed that delightful spot within your walls that sent sparks flying up your spine with every stroke. Pressed against your back, he never pulled himself free, instead preferring to keep at least his tip buried in your cunt as he rutted against you like an animal. It was intense and it was hot, and the little grunting breaths which met every roll of his hips filled the air just as quickly as the scent of sex and sweat.

“I haven’t been fucked like this in a long time.” You gasp out between thrusts, your scrambling fingers laying atop his as he continued to squeeze at your chest through your silk shirt. “I’m glad you frightened off that other guy if this is the reward I get for making a good choice.”

x-x-x-x-x

Sitting at his original booth with a blank expression, Jonathan had watched with vague amusement as Edward wheedled his way into the attractive brunette’s graces. It was impressive how easily Edward could compartmentalise his own narcissism to feign interest in another to fulfil his more primal needs.

Charm was a skill which could be as learned as trigonometry and his own experiences had taught him that it was much easier to catch flies with honey than vinegar.

Catching the attention of a passing waitress, Jonathan narrowed his features in clear disgust as he set about getting his revenge.

“Radio and tell Cobblepot that Jonathan Crane has just watched two of his patrons disappear into the ground level supply closet and that they did not seem intent on paying their tabs once finished. Tell him he owes me for this tip.”

Recognising the name with a fearful shudder, the waitress nodded as her hands flew to the small black radio which every waitress had fitted to their uniforms as she flitted off to relay the message.

Smirking to himself as he took a sip of his whisky sour, Jonathan angled his body within the booth to offer himself the best view of the corridor leading to the supply closet as he awaited the eventual fireworks which he had just lit the fuse of in an unbridled show of pettiness.

[shinjisdone]

I saw you're doing requests and I do not request often but- Take this if you want?

Yandere! Link (Twilight Princess) (Romantic as I think he's an adult in the game? Sorry if not, been awhile. Platonic works too) with Female! Reader Scenario? (One of my fav games, lol)

Do what you want with it... idk what prompts to ask for :/

If you don't want to do this please tell me! I read the rules and picked something simple :) Take your time! 🐈‍⬛

😳 THE yandere-galore panther taking requests from me? Usually its the other way around haha

Prompts are not a must if you really don't know what you want, though I gotta admit I had to ponder a bit since the request has no specifications. Things are pretty general therefore but I had to add a few things to get creative. This turned out longer since I like to develop Yandereness especially - it's always interesting to see from where the sprout stems from and how it'll grow. Otherwise it feels too forced and sudden to me. Have been following for quite a while, hope you like this!

TW: Yandere behaviour, obsession, long pining, idolization, one-sided feelings, obliviousness, stalking, aggression, blood and killing

Yandere! Twilight Princess! Link Scenario with Female!Reader (Romantic)

All your good deeds turned into sin, it seems.

Or at least some form of karma, but you didn't know enough about that to truly tell. It was just a gut feeling.

You are nothing but a wandering traveller. Knowledge of self-defense goes without saying, especially since the land of Hyrule turned so hostile over time. According to old legend a calamity is soon to approach, which only makes you yearn for serenity even more.

Ordon village sounds so tempting. Small and humble, the entire village feels nothing like the rest of the outside. The people certainly looked at you weird for deciding to stay here for a while - the most exciting thing to happen after all are raging goats!

Thus you were saved from one by a quick-witted, local fellow seemingly grappling with the animal before it calmed down and he offered you his hand. His light brown hair and deep blue eyes were welcoming and you took the offer.

"Thank you."

He said his name was Link.

»»————-　　————-««»»————-　　————-«

The children weren't as relaxed as the adults though. Even as their parents called out for them to help in the shop or with the goats, all four of them would stick close to you, each jumping to your side as they asked questions upon questions about 'the traveler lady!' The rest of Hyrule wasn't something they'd see or even hear from often. It was deemed as exciting to be able to go to the castle town to deliver some milk.

How is the town? Have you ever crossed that big bridge? Were you ever up at that Death Mountain? Can you catch bigger fish in that giant lake? Have you met the knights, soldiers and their princess?

All of these things were also asked by Link.

He bashfully admitted to being a regular country pumpkin as you sat beside each other by the river, fishing. He managed to please the kids with a promise to play as they finally left you alone. Rubbing the back of his neck, he couldn't hide the excitement on his face nor the stammer in his voice as you told him of your stories.

"The most exciting thing I'll ever do in my life is probably deliver that milk. Can't lie, I am lookin' forward to it..." He chuckled sheepishly. Shaking your head, you offered a smile.

"You should go out of the village more often. You're old enough now, I'm sure you'll grow to like everything you'll see and meet."

You smiled at him. It cheered him up, admittedly. You looking at him like that felt special too, perhaps because you weren't from here and encouraged him to go, even if it meant leaving the village and his goat-herding duties behind for a while.

»»————-　　————-««»»————-　　————-«

If only he never left.

Though for whatever reason that thing called it a lucky coincidence, a deal.

He ran back towards the forest, rushing by the familiar lake where the children went missing. It happened too fast and even though they adored him, looked up to him, he could barely realize what was happening before the world went dark and darker and darker.

His heart pounded against his ribcage, the shadow tailing after him in high speed which only made his panic grow more. How could this have happened? Where is everyone and are they still well?

His pants turned and echoed in a yelp - then a growl. He couldn't control it, it sank into his brain as he saw the glimmer of a blade shooting up this close to his face.

Gritting his teeth, his blue eyes shot up big. Frozen in place he looked up as the weapon was slowly withdrawn.

"...You don't have to be scared."

Link did not notice he was shaking.

Quickly he realized it was you, the 'traveler lady', as you kneeled down and took a good look at him. The young man was confused on how you kept calm as your hands gingerly grazed his fur. Your hands went down to his chained paw and a frown graced your face. "You poor thing. No wonder you are so terrified."

Link was hesitant but could not deny your guess.

Eagerly you tried to remove the chain, even if it did not affect him. Adamently working on it you suceeded even if it costed you time and tools...your gentle hands soothed the irritated skin with your own oilments that you carried.

"It's best if you don't go into the village. The children went missing...and the parents are distraught. You better go home to your own family, little one."

You gave one last pet and smiled as you returned to Ordon Village.

»»————-　　————-««»»————-　　————-«

You thought this would be last time you saw the curious wolf. Yet here he is, having trouble as he carried a wooden shield and hauling it through the dark. As the villagers investigated the strange sounds coming from him, you were quick to distract them. Swiftly hiding him behind a house, you ducked him down.

You ask him what he is doing here, take away the shield - which he fights against almost pleadingly - and shush him from the worried parents.

"Everyone's drowning in worry." You pet him up and down, whispering, "...I really hoped I could stay here for a while, get away from all this chaos outside. But even such a sweet village like this one gets attacked...kidnapping kids...and the Link fella is gone, too..." You trail off but try to smile as the wolf whimpers. Inhaling deeply and forcing a grin you drown him in pats and cuddles. "But don't worry...! I promised them to get the children back! I don't know where they are or where to start...but I'll get them back. I swear, Wolfie!" You laughed as you petted him more, which only made the animal grin. He had long sat down and listenend to your words.

Link was unsure if you were even real when he first saw you that night. The twilight blinded him as that Midna thing mockingly told him of the possible fate of his friends. The people, the spirits - they all whimpered as his sight, smell, touch and hearing changed. All that he knew was different and he might never turn back into the real Link.

You, this new and mysterious woman, were the only thing that seemed real to him. The blade you shoved into his snout, the paw you healed and your hands that combed through his fur - all of this were the only things that felt warm and familiar in this twilight. He hoped you'd be fine. If only he could turn back to his real self and help you. He'd feel better if he had you as a companion and not that shadow imp.

»»————-　　————-««»»————-　　————-«

Lake Hylia is grand, Death Mountain steep, and the castle town empty. It's strange to think that he is right here, seeing all the things you saw and encouraged him to. Though the circumstances turned out to be much more meaningful than a simple country pumpkin such as him could have ever imagined.

Midna was right, Hyrule is so close to its doom. All he wanted was to get back to the children and maybe meet you again as you were looking for them too. Though still as a wolf you left for your quest. And now here he is at Kakariko Village. Here to save the kids but to also have to climb Death Mountain first. It's what he as a 'chosen hero' has to do.

Still, he ignored Midna's request as his blue eyes wandered the dry and sandy place. Link found the children quickly and as they pointed to the an opening door, his face lit up. A familiar woman stepped out and he could see you squint your eyes in confusion while he ran up to you. Holding firmly on your arms you were first startled before the young man explained himself.

"Link? Oh, Link! I didn't recognize you, you're so green now!" You pointed out and he couldn't help but laugh. He told you of what happened and what he had to do.

"Are you sure you must? You went missing too, I mean you must be as confused as the kids. You don't have to force yourself if you were hurt as well." There was your concern again, the same one on that night. Even as he assured you, you offered to help but both of you decided that you stay with the children...even if he would have loved to have your company and spend some time together. He was sure you would be of great help and support.

"Well, Death Mountain is hot and dangerous but if you made it so far, you'll be fine. Might as well finally get to see it." You chuckled sheepishly, trying to lift the mood.

»»————-　　————-««»»————-　　————-«

He thought he'd be free from his curse already, the spirit said so. Promised him so but here he is back on all four paws with Midna dying on his back. His pants grew rapid, panicking as the shadow imp almost fell off when he acted to quickly and too carelessly.

What to do? Where to go? Midna is dying...and he is just some animal again! Stuck in this lake, in this desert! The night grows darker and the people more hollow. With a pounding heart he tried to sneak out of the Kakariko's cave first -

"Wolfie...?"

If it weren't for you again.

You knelt down to him as he anxiously turned his snout to his back. Carefully you took Midna, for who you mistook for some kind of baby. As you nervously tried to make sense of the situation, the wolf jumped at you, his eyes wide and bright with his paws on your shoulders as he barked and barked and barked. Please, please, please, do something as you did in Ordon. You have to, you must.

Link is useless like this.

"...Hey," Gingerly you cupped his cheek and wondered how a wolf could be getting misty-eyed. You wiped the fresh tears away. "Wolfie, Wolfie..." Whispering you lean his head against yours and onto your shoulder. You shush him as Midna lays on your lap, caressing his back as he ceased to shake. "You poor thing." Again, you said that again. Adjusting the creature on your lap, you wrapped your arms around the animal and nuzzled his fur. Your lips met his cheek and lingered there as you whispered; "You'll be fine. Everything's gonna be fine again, I promise you."

Link felt like crying again. You were the only one.

»»————-　　————-««»»————-　　————-«

Again, you were the only thing that seemed real as his existance as a wild animal.

Midna was the only one to talk to and her personality and motivation left a lot to be desired. She proved her heart was noble but that wouldn't deter her from her jabs. Link could only show his unrest through growls and yips, which she only brushed off with a roll of her eye and taps to his back to hurry up instead.

Even as he ran through the swamps and forest, the dead castle town and plateus, he could often sniff you from afar. Often you found yourself meeting up with the mysterious wolf and it was delightful after he got better. It was even more delightful for Link.

Whatever happened to the 'baby' was left as an enigma to you.

With a groan Midna would retreat into his shadow, mumbling how much time they are wasting again on his little, favorite human, as the wolf appraoched you with a wagging tail. Small recaps of your own adventures and a round of pats were always included.

You could be focused on a task at hand, fight off against monsters or ride through the meadow but the moment you noticed him you'd turn around and your lovely face would lit up. 'Wolfie!' You'd yell out and Link has grown to love no word more than this one. It felt a bit demeaning at the beginning but that just meant you always liked him from the start, right?

Liked him even while he is stuck in this hideous form. He didn't know how long he'd be stuck in there and if he will ever get his human form back, no matter how much Midna promised him, but at least, at least you were here. This wonderful woman with a smile that could rival the sun.

"You be careul on your way now, okay, Wolfie?" You chuckle as he barked in response, turned in a circle and jumped up on you again. His snout searched for your lips.

»»————-　　————-««»»————-　　————-«

You inhaled deeply. This must be...the third time now, if you aren't mistaken.

Castle town seemed dimmer and more hollow the last time you were here and while it was a firm reminder of how much you wanted to leave in the first place, something more sinister has entered this place recently and you can't shake it off. The town square is brimming with a hopeless crowd but you reckon you always hear a cheerful voice calling out to you. Often you find yourself turning around and seeing the image of a hand waving as green ghosts around and between the merchants. The calls seem to drown between the mumbles and even the bar, the one place still full of superficial but pleasant talks felt suffocating. As if entering the wide space was walking into a pair of arms squeezing you from both sides.

The woman behind the counter often raised her brow when you entered until one day she finally spoke up. Apparently somebody's been looking for their good friend, a beautiful gal and you fit the regular's description perfectly. From head to toe. With a worried tone that you couldn't hide, you told the barkeeper that you travel alone.

»»————-　　————-««»»————-　　————-«

Castle town became too asphyxiating, your gut feeling telling you to escape in a hurry to Kakariko village, to familiar faces. You still owed the Ordon elders the promise of returning their children unharmed, after all.

And so you did, pushing Colin out of the way and losing sight of the world as a monstrous goblin took ahold of you with the last thing you heard being aggressive galloping and your name screamed out.

Eyes shot awake as you tumbled to the ground, rolling away from the Elden bridge, coughing. Your arms were too weak as you shakily tried to sit up - the rest of the world blurry and dipped in twilight as more screams echoed about. Squinting, you turned around to see something akin to a giant boar falling down right after Link pulled his sword out of its abdomen. With a squishing sound the blinding blade was torn out of it, creating a bigger hole in its flesh. The cry was cut short as it fell to the ground and a pool of blood quickly tainted the rest of its body.

You let out a gasp and at the slightest sound, Link's ear twitched and he swiftly turned around, his face immediately morphing from a glare to a grin. Swinging the blood off his weapon, he rushed over to you and putting his sword back. He unwittingly created a small trail of blood after him. His bloodied arms shot out for you, supporting you as he sat you up. The young man started talking and gushing while you stared up at him, helplessly leaning on him while still beside yourself.

"...Link...?" "You're safe now." He instantly countered with a smile that was meant to reassure you. You swore his eyes were cold as he gave the final blow but now they are the softest you've ever seen. "I saw what you did, you saved Colin. That was so...amazing of you but you gave me a heart attack." Finally, you were able to slowly go back to your senses. "What? You weren't there..."

"Didn't you hear me call you?" You blinked and again, asked him what he meant. 'At Castle town', he grinned and said he saw you. You didn't hear him though. And when he arrived at Kakariko also you did not hear him.

"W-What...?" You let out but were shushed as your head was put on his shoulder. Closing his eyes as he combed through your hair and pressed you further into his body. "You'll be fine. Everything's gonna be fine again, I promise you." He shushed you again as you attempted to speak up and just nuzzled you.

It felt good to repay a favor, be the one who saved you this time. It felt just as good, if not a bit different, to have you in his arms, with him being your hero.

Not the other way around. Though he does not mind that.

»»————-　　————-««»»————-　　————-«

Colin's face soured as you explained yourself.

How could he not? A child that you promised to bring home watching you leave for an 'extended period of time' leaving all of Eldin to go to Ranelle. Far, far away.

The little tent you built yourself in the corner of Lake Hylia should be safe and hidden enough. Close enough for fish and far away from monsters. Yet just as you were about to lay down, you heard unusual bickering and turned around, only to once again meet green.

Letting out a yelp, you dropped your weapon in shock only for Link to bring his finger to his lips and shush you. He pointed to himself again and again that he was indeed Link. "What are you doing here?" You manage to let out as you calmed down, "I have to be here." He answered quickly yet you doubted that. "Why are you here? You just left and," He licked his lips, "I was worried about you!" He took a step closer before you could reply.

"It's dangerous to be alone out here. Especially for you, yer..." He couldn't help the grin, "You...you're a beautiful gal and it's best if you aren't alone...say, since we both are here, why don't we stick together? You offered me your help once and I always would have loved to have you with me for a bit..."

"How did you find me?" You took a step back and eyed your weapon on the ground. Link only looked confused. "I...saw you here on the way to the lake. It's easy to spot you." He chuckled sheepishly but you only shook your head and crossed your arms. "...No, thank you. I came here to...relax a bit. The recent events were...frightening."

"I can imagine," Once again his blue eyes softened and he neared you again, putting a hand on your cheek. He missed the way you twitched. "None of this is your responsibilty...yet you choose to help anyway. You're kind...and sweet as honey. That's so amazing of you." Link almost seemed mesmerized as his eyes narrowed. "But you'll have me...I can look out for you, I can protect you-"

"I won't go." You take his hand off your cheek and distance yourself again, finally having the courage to glare at him - in turn, he only looked more confused. "But why? You love Wolfie but when it comes to me, you vanish. Are you shyer around a human than an animal?" He tried to laugh it off even as he saw your face morphing into shock. Quickly you ask him with a stammering voice how he knows that but he seems to ignore it. "I am no different...you saved me a dozens of times! And I," He hesitates but lets it all go as he takes ahold of your shoulders, "I...I think I fancy you and I have been waitin' for so long to at least spend time with you! The only other times we see each other is when you don't understand me, when I'm just some wild beast!"

"But even then you seem like the only one who understood me, the only real one between all these ghosts! So, as payback, at least let me protect you...let me help you. We could be doin' this together."

Link wastes no time to shove you into his chest, into an embrace. He nuzzles your head and his lips met your temple. "I'll defeat the darkness and then we can see the rest of the world together, okay?"

[narrans]

My Borrowed Son | 14 | Parker's Place

Chapter Fourteen | Parker’s Place

For the past three years, Parker had been a completely virtual student on a medical conditional pass signed off on by his pediatrician and his mom.

His first day of school was a terrifying one. Parker’s mom had set up a special classroom area with a camera for him to be seen as well as a computer for him to watch the lectures on. Perhaps it was because it was a private school versus a public school, but Parker felt like he was just like any other student.

Mr. William Tamplin was a great teacher and he always made sure everyone was seen and heard if they had questions. He was a curious man with black rimmed glasses that reminded Parker of the ones Clark Kent would wear. He had sandy blond-brown hair, like Parker, but he had pale blue eyes like glacier ice. He was a young teacher, but he knew the answer to everything, even though he usually taught English.

Parker’s other teachers were nice, but they weren’t the same as Mr. Tamplin.

On that first day, Mr. Tamplin had Parker introduce himself and talk a little about what he liked and what he wanted to learn. All of the other teachers had Parker do the same thing as the camera and screen that represented him was shown to the class.

Parker had never seen so many children his age before, and he was both excited and terrified. When he was in Mr. Tamplin’s class, however, he felt safe, especially when it came to questions about why Parker couldn’t come to class. That was another thing Parker liked about Mr. Tamplin. He, unlike the other teachers, didn’t request that Parker explain anything about his condition.

Parker and his mom went over the details in depth every day to make sure Parker didn’t say too much. For whatever reason, Parker’s mom seemed uneasy about Parker sharing the name of his condition and details about it. It was weird, but the small child figured that it was such a rare condition that not much was known about it and that he wouldn’t be able to answer the questions he would receive.

“So, Parker, if anyone asks…”

“I know, mom. I just say that I have a special medical condition that is still being explored. It’s not contagious, but it just makes me a little fragile, so I have to stay put at home until we find a better solution,” recited Parker.

It was the same thing he told everyone in his classes and to his teachers.

There were a few who asked further questions when he was in private group study sessions or if they had free chat time and one of the kids came up and decided to talk to Parker, but Parker’s responses were always the same, and so the topics were changed.

Through his fall and spring of his first year, Parker made several friends. There was Bailey, a black haired girl who loved to draw, and Billie, a kid who couldn’t hold still to save his life. The three of them were fast friends because of their love of the same cartoons and, with Amanda’s permission, the three of them had phone calls and video chats outside of school hours.

Neither of them seemed interested in Parker’s condition and, for them, it was cool having a virtual friend. Sometimes, they even called Parker “the spaceman,” pretending he was in some kind of protected facility that was doing research on Mars or whatever.

In the end, it didn’t matter. They had continued to be friends all through his classes, even as he excelled in nearly all of his subjects and jumped grades. Parker was good at making friends and learned quickly how to socialize without bringing up his special circumstances and condition.

Now, for the first time, he was getting an actual birthday party.

True, it was still virtual for all of his friends to log in, but it was going to be the greatest thing ever!

“Hey, mom? I know it’s a little early, but could I go ahead and log into Discord?” asked Parker as he tapped on the mouse. He was so close, tantalizingly so, to spending a great afternoon with his friends. The mouse danced across the screen over the camera image, highlighting it every time it traced over the icon.

Amanda approached and looked at the camera and its placement in Parker’s room. It looked like everything was set up to avoid showing too much about him and his room. The thought of someone seeing Parker for the size he was felt close – too close, but she wanted to give Parker this birthday.

He was thirteen after all.

She thought of the gifts she had prepared for him and hoped she was doing the right thing with it.

Years passed and now he was officially a teenager.

The time really had gone by so fast.

“Sure,” she replied after a moment. “I don’t see why not. If you have any problems with the program or camera, just let me know. And remember…”

“About my condition and what we talked about. I remember mom. Thanks!” Parker clicked on the camera icon so fast that it made Amanda’s head spin. She carefully tiptoed away and listened as Parker began calling out to his friends.

The moment his mom gave the go-ahead, Parker saw that Billie and Bailey were already online and ready for him. He eagerly entered the “Parker’s Party” channel he created and watched as his friends’ faces flickered onto the screen.

“Hey spaceman!” greeted Billie. He leaned forward so his nose was blown out of proportion. The grin he had on his face was absolutely priceless.

“Sup man! How’ve you been?” asked Parker as he leaned back in his chair and stared at the camera at his friends.

“Hey! What about me?” asked Bailey. She was dressed in a pretty pink dress and folded her arms in a full body pout.

“Hey there to you too Bailey,” Parker said with a wave. “You guys are the first online. Any word from Spencer or Selina?”

“No, not yet.” Billie’s connection garbled his response but cleared up shortly after. “But you know them. Twins dude. They’ll be online together or never.”

“I hear ya on that,” Parker replied. Just then, Spencer and Selina’s icons popped into the chat followed shortly by ten other friends Parker invited.

The chat and the cameras were filled with cheering and kids talking over one another, creating jumbled connections and amusing breaks in conversation. Games began of Among Us, Speed Racer, and a few other odd ones that Parker was able to access on his device.

After games and other discussions of the fun, nerdy things they were watching or reading, they took a break to sing happy birthday and open the cards they all made for Parker. Because of his condition, Parker requested that his friends make cards for him that they could send to him later.

They were all hilarious.

Parker was rolling on the ground laughing, as was everyone else, and they decided to have an impromptu competition for whose card was the best.

Selina won, naturally. Her sketching abilities were unparalleled, and her use of humor was worthy of the Sunday funnies. The image was Parker in a spacesuit hovering over planets with Mars in the background. It looked like he was outside of some big space station and the caption read, “Comet me, bro!” and underneath read, “I wanted to have a space-themed birthday party, but there was no one to planet. Happy Birthday Parker!” What really caught Parker’s eye was the little heart next to Selina’s name.

“Wow, Selina. That one is fantastic,” Parker complemented.

“Awww! Thanks Parker! Thanks guys!” said Selina with a wink. For whatever reason, Parker felt his heart flutter and his insides flip when he was Selina staring directly into the camera right at him. It was like she was right there looking into his eyes. “Only the best for my bestie.”

“What!” Billie roared. “He’s my bestie!”

“Uh, I talked to him first, so he’s my bestie,” retorted Bailey.

“Can’t you all be my besties?” asked Parker, recovering

Hours passed and, eventually, everyone was called away for dinner or some other activity. Parker waved his hand and wished his friends a great day, and all wished him a happy birthday.

Finally, it was just Bailey and Selina left.

“Well, Parker, I hope you had a great birthday,” said Bailey. “And don’t worry! I’ll be sending you my card A.S.A.P!”

“Yeah, same here,” chimed in Selina. The look the two of them gave one another made Parker’s hair stand on end. It was like there was some unspoken rivalry between the two of them that, for one reason or another, involved him. Parker wasn’t sure really what was going on, but he didn’t want to get in the middle of it.

There was that instinct in him to back away slowly and hide under something big and tall, but Parker held his ground and swallowed his apprehension, addressing his friends

“Well, I can’t wait to get them,” said Parker. He stared into the faces of his friends for a little while longer before Bailey’s mom could be heard in the background calling for her. She huffed dramatically and leaned forward.

“You’ll be getting mine first, so message me as soon as you get it, okay? Talk to you soon Parker! Bye!” said Bailey as she disconnected. Parker looked back at Selina, now realizing she was staring right at him. Her cheeks were a little rosy and the light hit her eyes in a way that made Parker’s insides flip.

He swallowed dryly, but Selina spoke first.

“I’ll be sending mine first, but I wanted to ask if it’s okay if I post it on my Tumblr account before I do. I wanted it to just be for you, but it would be good for my portfolio. I’m applying to the Visual Arts program and want to get some traction,” Selina requested. Parker nodded, but a curiosity tugged at his mind.

“Sure, I don’t have a problem with that, but what’s Tumblr?” asked Parker.

“What? I’m surprised you don’t have one for your writing and everything,” Selina replied. “It’s just a place online for you to submit your stories, poetry, art, and all of that stuff. You should totally make one! I’ll be your first follower!”

Parker hadn’t really thought about publishing his scribblings. Mr. Tamplin was always complementary of his work, encouraging him to do more, and his other writing teachers and tutors said he had a gift for the written word.

Maybe it was worth a shot.

At the very least, it would give him a chance to make more friends.

“Sure. I mean, I have to double check with my mom and everything, but I’ll send you the link if I get one. Sound good?”

“Great! Well, I’ll talk to you soon! Bye Parker!”

The connection was cut and, once again, Parker was left alone in his room, his camera being the only one facing him. He stared at the lens and at his own reflection in the shaped glass. He wasn’t sure why, but it made him feel the slightest bit lonely.

Despite having friends and being online with them for hours, it didn’t change the fact that he was still completely and utterly alone.

“Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday to you.”

Parker turned around to see his mom approaching with a cake with two tiny candles labeled “1” and “3” on top. It was his favorite, a strawberry cake, and he stepped out of his room to the bedside table to greet her.

“Thanks, mom,” smiled Parker as he gazed up at her. She balanced his cake, which was about as big as his torso, on the tips of her fingers as she smiled at him.

“You’re so welcome,” she said, her adoration clearly audible. “Now, you know the rule. Take a big breath and make a wish.”

She held up her phone camera and hit record. Parker took a few deep breaths, unsure of what to wish for, and stared at the melting wax as it dripped down the edge of the candle.

What did he want?

What was his desire?

He had friends and time at school. He had technology and knick knacks as well as all of the books he could possibly want.

The only thing he would really want was to actually go outside and play with his friends, but that wasn’t possible. It was too dangerous for him, as his mother explained on numerous occasions.

Parker knew the wax wasn’t dripping any slower so, without a wish ready and writing himself a rain check, he blew out the candles.

“Yay! Happy birthday, sweetie,” Amanda said as she set Parker’s cake over onto the small table she brought with her. “Now, do you want cake or presents first?” Parker knew the answer already and, leaving his momentary sadness behind, he decided to enjoy the day rather than be brought down.

“Presents please,” he said as he stepped onto his mom’s awaiting hand. His mom’s smile broadened.

“I hoped you would say that. I hope you don’t mind, but I’m going to start with the biggest one first. Otherwise, the others aren’t going to make sense,” said Amanda. She carefully stood and walked out of the bedroom and toward her office.

Parker leaned forward to look down over the edge of his mom’s hand at the vast distance below him. Something about the height was enticing and thrilling to him. It made his mom anxious anytime he was near the edge, but something inside him said that he could fall and be fine.

“Okay, I really hope you like it, but do not feel pressured into liking it,” said his mom. Parker felt confused as he looked away from the ground and toward the table by the side of the room. Immediately, his mind went blank as he looked at the thing on the table.

It was a miniature house.

It was made of pale blue panels and even had light brown shingles and white trim on the windows and doors. From what Parker could tell, there was nothing on the inside except for a few wrapped presents. It was three stories tall and had a little porch area with a gazebo.

He honestly wasn’t sure what to make of it until his mom asked, “Do… you like it?”

Parker, still unsure, gestured to the front door and his mom carefully set him down. The miniscule boy stepped up onto the porch, noticing how the steps were perfectly set for him. There was a wooden sign on the door that caught his attention immediately, adding to his swirling emotions.

“Parker’s Place”

He reached out and pushed the door open, noting the hinges were just like the ones on the big doors, just smaller.

When he entered the main area, he spotted a set of stairs on the left hand side as well as two entryways leading to two rooms. The rooms themselves were massive, to the point where Parker could run from one side to the other, spin around, and stretch without fear of hitting anything around him.

The outside world shifted as the house spun effortlessly around and the far wall opened up into two separate panels. His mom knelt down and watched him intently as he walked over to the right and into the kitchen. There was a box which had a bit of a hum to it and, when Parker opened it, the air was cold.

Parker, fascinated, turned on his heel and ran into the next room, seeing some old looking wallpaper and several large windows that led to the gazebo.

He needed to see more.

Adrenaline and curiosity fueled him as he sprinted up the stairs, each fitting him perfectly, as he found three new rooms with large windows all around. Still, there was another set of stairs. Parker glanced into the other rooms and found what looked like a miniature bathroom and what could be a bedroom before running upstairs to the top floors. Parker didn’t even mind that he ran past a stack of presents to continue his exploring.

There were two smaller rooms with a narrow entryway to get in, but it was still a massive space.

Now practically at eye-level with his mom, he turned around and looked into her eyes, his words finally manifesting.

“What… is this?”

“It’s a little house made for you,” she replied. Parker spun around in the space, mind still wrapping around the concept.

“For… people like me? But… how? Why?” Something felt odd about this place; like some kind of trap. Parker couldn’t explain the feeling, but something about this place didn’t quite feel right – like he didn’t quite belong there.

“Yes, something along those lines. Do you remember our conversation the other day about how you’re getting older and… things are going to be changing a bit?” asked his mom. Parker nodded vaguely while his mind processed how perfectly everything about this house fit him and why it didn’t feel right.

“Yes, I remember.”

“Well, you’re getting older now and I think it’s time that you had a larger space to call your own,” said Amanda. “It’ll let you gain a little independence and give you a little more freedom and privacy. You can decorate everything how you’d like, and we can set up the hot and cold water and lights together if you want.”

Parker stared around at the vast space.

Except for his room, he had always been surrounded by things that were immense compared to him. His tablet. The books his mom borrowed from the library. The camera he used for class.

Everything was big…

And now it wasn’t.

Parker finally pinpointed the feeling swirling inside him that overrode the sensation of this place feeling like a weird trap.

Normal.

He had always felt normal, but now the world around him felt like it fit him.

“Parker?” His mom’s voice pulled him back to the moment. “Do… you like it? Remember, you can say no. I just tho-”

“I love it.”

Amanda couldn’t be more relieved. She had been holding her breath the entire time Parker explored the dollhouse she purchased online for him. It was a miracle he didn’t find it sooner, but thankfully she had only had it for a few days. Dragging the package through to her office while Parker was in class was her saving grace.

Now, seeing the smile spreading across his face, it made it all worth it.

Yes, she felt an immense guilt for buying a dollhouse when Parker obviously was a person but keeping him in a shoebox on her bedside table felt wrong now that he was officially a teenager.

“You really like it?” asked Amanda, her voice choking up as she looked into those thoughtful brown orbs belonging to her son.

“Yeah, this place is sweet! I mean, it kinda has a weird smell and will need some stuff, but I’ve got so many cool places to go now! I can have a library and book area over on the gazebo in that side room. Bedroom is above that. Upstairs here is the recording, writing, reading area. I get a kitchen and my own bathroom too?” Parker felt himself geeking out.

“Well, I’m thrilled you like it,” said his mom, wiping her eyes with the heel of her palm. “Anyway, your other presents are related to this place, so I hope you like them.”

Parker could barely contain himself.

He sprinted down the stairs, reveling in how they were perfectly sized just for him, and tore open the presents. Some of them were games he had wanted to buy and the others were gift cards. One gift card was from a place called “Tay Models” that really intrigued him.

“It’s an independent company that makes furniture and accessories for people like you,” replied Amanda. A pang of guilt hit her, but she disguised it behind a smile. Tay Models came up during a search for dollhouse accessories and furniture, but nothing on the website indicated that it was meant for toys and dolls that were Parker’s size.

It was the best solution she could come up with without telling Parker more about the condition she had fabricated to keep him – both of them – safe.

“No way!” Parker was overjoyed and eagerly leapt down out of the house and onto the table to hug his mom’s fingers. “Thanks mom! When can we start working on the water and motors and lights?”

Amanda swallowed hard and nodded. “Today, if you want.”

Parker beamed at her and nodded.

“Yes, please. And… momma… could I sleep in here tonight? Move some of my things in here?” asked Parker. The question made a lump form in Amanda’s throat. This would be the first time Parker would be sleeping in another place instead of right beside her.

It made Amanda feel hollow but also reassured at the same time. She knew it was probably unhealthy to have her son sleeping in the same room within arm’s length of her for the majority of his life, but only now did she feel like she could leave him to his own devices.

Parker was a trustworthy boy, and now he was going to be able to practice his independence at a safe distance.

“Of course, sweetie,” she replied as she turned her hand and Parker leapt on, ready for the next phase of his life.

The rest of the evening was eventful to say the least. Both Amanda and Parker had accidentally soaked themselves while getting the water running in both the kitchen and the bathroom, which was the essential if Parker was going to stay in Parker’s Place.

The two of them had dinner and cake while reading the manual on how to set up the electricity of the house but elected by unanimous vote to work on it tomorrow in favor of watching a double feature before bed.

Parker drifted off to sleep at one point through the movie, leaving his mom to carry him to bed, but woke just long enough to give his mom a kiss goodnight and tuck himself in under his blankets. He stared at the ceiling that, for once, didn’t tower above him.

Things were different, both weird and good, and Parker was excited for the things he was going to get to do with his place.

He drifted into a dream filled sleep of far off adventures and worlds beyond comprehension. When he woke, he hurriedly scribbled down his thoughts and what he remembered about the dream, realizing that it would be an amazing plot for a story.

He suddenly felt like it was a shame to keep all of his ideas to himself. He stared at the countless notebooks that were scattered on the ground and, suddenly, it hit him.

Parker knew what he wanted for his birthday – to be able to publish his ideas.

So, as he stood and stretched, one of his objectives of the day became crystal clear.

He was going to start publishing, just like Selina said, and it was going to start today.

~~~~~^*^*^*^*^~~~~~

Continue

Previous

Beginning

[carboardserpent]

Next gen headcanons? 🤔

Like, Jackson, Cruz, Tim, Danny, Chase, and Ryan?

Oh boy, that's a few characters. Alright, strap in then. Probably also gonna throw in Bubba because he's my favourite non-main next gen <3

(Humanised, as always)

(Quick disclaimer for this one, none of these are supposed to reflect on the irl racers that gave their names and voices to them - I'm treating these characters as though they're entirely fictional and not based on/inspired by real people. I make my HCs literally just based on Vibes (and RPs))

Jackson Storm:

6'1 and fit AF. Clearly spends a lot of time in the gym toning his body and muscles. He is male model levels of gorgeous. Physically flawless black man <3

Short black dreadlocks dyed blue at the ends.

Aromantic (female-leaning)bisexual.

Autistic.

Ray knew he was autistic before Jackson even knew himself, and is the reason he even got diagnosed in the first place.

One of his most common complaints is still about the reflections of the sun glinting in his eyes. The loud noise of the track still gets to him occasionally, but he has special earplugs to help him deal with it.

Can usually be seen drinking a can of IGNTR's flagship energy drink before a race. It helps him calm down and focus in. His sponsors love it, for obvious reasons.

Any time he's on camera, he acts calm and cool but internally he's freaking out. If they ask something he doesn't expect, he visibly tenses up and flounders for a second as he tries to figure out what to say, even if it was a simple question.

Doesn't do fan meets or signings unless he absolutely has to. Even then he tries everything he can to get out of them.

His physical attractiveness makes his already poor attitude even worse. Doesn't know how to talk to people, but gets all the praise and attention he could ever want online.

Yes, he posts photos of himself on various social media. He wasn't sure at first, but Ray convinced him to start shortly after his debut race, hoping that it would help reassure him and give him a bit of a confidence boost. Naturally, it went a little TOO well...

He's a gamer through and through. In any downtime he gets, he's still topping the leaderboards on just about every popular racing game you can play online. He also enjoys the occasional game of CoD and will verbally rip anyone to shreds if they try to come at him.

DUBSTEP. He loves it. If his skull isn't rattling from absolutely filthy, grimy bass, he's not interested.

So, of course, he has to have an incredible sound system that's probably worth more than the average person's car.

He doesn't watch anime. (Stop asking him if he does) Most of his entertainment comes from Twitch streams.

He streams himself playing Super Corsa 4 any chance he gets. Which isn't often with the packed NASCAR schedule, but he tries his best. His user is UrStormChasing

Still doesn't get along with Tim after their rivalry in training and isn't very good at pretending he does either. Their crew chiefs have to make deliberate efforts to stop them from running into each other before they get into their cars.

Cruz Ramirez:

5'5 with an athletic build. She is a Latina woman with visible abs and she deserves them gdi.

Side-parted brown hair a little shorter than jaw length, perpetually kinda wild looking.

Chaotic lesbian hours!

ADHD

Literally cannot sleep at night without a big, milky mug of coffee.

It's not normal to wake up and go for a run before even having breakfast?

She's teaching Lightning to use social media more regularly (for better or for worse). His homework is to send her a funny meme or video that he found that week.

The result of this can sometimes be catastrophic. She'll never be able to unhear him uncertainly attempting to use outdated slang.

Almost every race, there's someone complaining about how she doesn't weigh enough and it's unfair to the rest of them. So she forces them to watch as race officials put extra weights in her car.

Has cussed Danny out in Spanish across Pit Road and will do it again if he carries on-

Is probably the only person on Team Dinoco that is actually nice to Cal and doesn't try to tease him. They get along well.

Tim Treadless:

6'0 with a broad frame and light muscle tone.

Tanned skin and tousled brown hair.

Straight ally.

Just call him Mr. Charismatic, everyone loves him.

Everyone except Jackson, that is. Jackson is the only person who brings out his anger to the point of wanting to throw hands.

Has a wife and a baby, bc of course he does.

One of those guys some people hate for being irritatingly perfect. Usually people that don't actually know him.

Has type 1 diabetes and a bad nut allergy.

Was pulled out of a race at the last minute when he went into anaphylactic shock - the entire race was almost stopped when people started to whisper that it was foul play. The race went on, but the only reason for Treadless' absence was that he had to be pulled for "unforseen medical issues".

Some of the other racers still blame Jackson, who actually had nothing to do with it.

Danny Swervez:

5'10 and fairly slender. Not a lot of bulk to him.

Tanned skin (he's Latino) and short black hair.

Cishet male.

This man is FULL of himself. What an attitude.

Genuinely a good racer, but not many people like him.

He's not a good guy. He's given Cruz some trouble for being a woman, though after she embarrassed him by publicly cussing him out in Spanish, he's learned to keep his unpopular opinions on her to himself.

Isn't exactly what we would call "faithful".

But hey, at least he doesn't cheat on the track (smh)

Has just as little respect for the older racers as Jackson, but is less vocal about it.

Is very bitter about Jackson and Tim being more popular than him, yet still does nothing to change himself for the better.

Has at least attempted to physically fight with other drivers that messed with him on the track several times.

Chase Racelott:

5'9 with a build somewhere between Danny and Tim.

Pale skin and dirty-blonde hair.

Straight ally.

Generally a pretty likeable guy. Not as well-loved as Tim, but he has a good amount of pretty dedicated fans.

Makes jokes about being single/available.

Has pretty average performance on the track, not great, but not poor.

Fairly high energy, he gets along well with Cruz.

Probably one of the best with kids. Has a lot of younger fans because of how he interacts with them during meets and signings.

One of the few who will try not to leave until he's spoken to every fan who wanted to meet him, no matter how long it takes.

Often seen hanging around with Ryan - the two of them cause some pretty good natured trouble together, often involving pranks on the other racers.

Ryan "Inside" Laney:

5'11 with a broad build similar to Tim.

Mixed race (¾ Caucasian, ¼ African American), with short black hair.

Closeted bisexual.

Friendly, but not really a standout character as far as the fans are concerned.

Kind of cocky, but in a cool way.

Has a girlfriend who travels with him.

Agent of chaos when he spends too much time with Chase. Don't turn your back on him.

Bubba Wheelhouse

Absolutely massive 6'2 gentle giant

Another gorgeous black man (fight me), his skin tone isn't quite as dark as Jackson's

Closeted homosexual

Has a fake relationship with a lesbian woman who's actually just his best friend (the racing world is scary and the US South probably wouldn't love an openly gay driver)

Kids ADORE him. Him and Chase are the drivers with the most kid fans.

Throws a football around with fans over the catch fence during rain delays (this one is based on the real Bubba Wallace bc its wholesome af)

Gets asked all the weird gay questions by everyone in the friend group. (Ex. "Is it gay if...?" "What is X actually like?")

Legit just trying to mind his own business, he doesn't want any part of drama or rivalries.

Occasionally finds himself roped into girl talk if the guys have their S/Os around. They're very excited to include him. He's too polite to decline.

[ilikepjo24]

There's a post going around Tumblr about the color palette of your name (I saw @prodogg do it) and I tried it but my name has a very boring color palette so I did Atla characters instead.

Aang:

Okay! All of them are very bright colors that represent Aang's bright attitude and there's a dark shade at the top row which brings to mind the flaws of his character. Personally, I feel like that dark brown represents the guilt Aang feels for leaving. We also have some yellow and soft red, which are the colours of his outfit. There's some light grey that reminds me of his eyes and pretty light blue and beige, breezy light his element. We have some blue, some yellow, some green and some red. True Avatar core right there.

Katara:

Ohhh~ So many pretty blues! Blue eyes, blue clothes, blue nation, blue element and so on. Once again, I feel like the dark color in the third row represents the more bitter parts of Katara personality. Her small moments of jealousy, spite and harness. I also like how all the blues are different shades, some coming close to grey, others close to green and some being pure blue. The variety of shades really shows what I well rounded character she is.

Sokka:

Oh my... That's unexpected... There's only one shade of blue! But I can see some pretty browns and greys in there that are in his colour palette. I wonder why there are so many greens... Probably because he's one of the only characters that are grounded to earth 😂 maybe even a bit too much, seeing how he's always suspicious and doubtful. There are also some snow-like colours in here, which is fitting, seeing as he's from the Water Tribe 😎.

Suki:

That's a very interesting palette... The brown colours remind me of the Earth Kingdom, but there's a snowy white in there, probably because of how close Kyoshi Island is to the Southern Water Tribe. There's also a bit of green in there, even if it's greyish, and I couldn't help but notice those dark shades of red... Is it because she relocated in the Fire Nation after the war, and is currently working as Zuko's bodyguard? I also see a few really dark shades in those top corners, although I'm not surprised. Suki is a warrior through and through, and sometimes warriors have to do some ugly things to protect their homes.

Toph:

No surprises here! I like how Toph has more dark shades than other characters, since she's more in touch with her "dark side" after participating in secret wrestling matches and pulling all those scams. Many shades of green and brown, like her element and her country. But there's also some very light greens in there, so light that they could pass as white or grey, which is unlike the usual Earth Kingdom greens. I wonder if it's because she uses her bending in a much different way that all the other earthbenders, which makes her special. Or it could be because that's the color of her eyes.

Zuko:

That palette is an interesting one for sure. There are so many dark colours in here! And as we all know, the Prince of the Fire Nation didn't have a very happy life, or a very bright attitude. There's a dark brown-red in here and a dark blackish green, along with some blues and greys and a brownish gold. I wonder if it's because of his travels to all the four nations during his search for the Avatar. And I'm loving the references to the Blue Spirit with all those blues in there. Zuko's second, secret persona is a big deal for his character, since all the times we've seen him wear that mask, we've also gotten hints for his future redemption and friendships.

Azula:

Ah, there we go. My favorite girl! Right of the top we have some dark shades, fitting for s true vigilante. There's some brown-ish gold abd black, which brings her hair and eyes to mind. A pretty shade of red, for a true Fire Nation Princess. The lack of blue surprises me, seeing as her fire and her lighting are both blue... I guess the website must believe that she is much more than her bending. And there's quite a lot of green I see... Probably because her peak as a strategist and warrior was conquering Ba Sing Se and bringing the Earth Kingdom to its knees, all while wearing the iconic green Kyoshi Warrior uniform and the even more iconic green Earth Queen outfit.

[urlocalnonbinarybastardwrites]

Hi!! I’d like a fandom ship/matchup pretty please! Someone from tcm (preferably from the first or second movie) or scream.

Appearance: 5’6, chubby and curvy girl. Shorter brown, fluffy, curly hair with teal tips. Blue/grey eyes, eyebrow piercing and nose stud. I’m somewhat strong and I dress somewhere along the lines of goth and grunge. I wear black eye makeup, mascara, and heavy eyeliner on the daily with the occasional black lipstick.

Personality: I love music, horror movies, coffee, and collecting little trinkets. I have quite a lot of foul language in my vocabulary. I tend to be both really sweet and a bitch depending on how the person I’m interacting with is acting towards me. I love/crave attention, with musical theater being a very common hobby. I’m usually very outgoing, trying to get others into my special interests, rambling about things, or cracking jokes, though sometimes I burn out and just utterly crash. I’m almost always willing to jump up and help anyone with anything they might need. I have really bad anxiety about certain things. I’m very clingy, and tend to prefer protective and stronger men, though I do appreciate time to myself. (I wanna be manhandled.)

Hobbies: Musical theater, choir, drumming, painting, drawing (mainly people), and watching movies or documentaries!!

I hope that’s enough info, have a great day/night and don’t forget to drink water 🖤

Thank you pookie 😊

Your Fandom Ship: Nubbins Sawyer!

Explanation: starting off looks he absolutely loves the way that you appear and your body and I also feel like if anyone tried to fat shame you or anything like that he would definitely torture them for hours. He would actually ask them if they think you’re attractive and if they said no, they would get tortured for hours. That makes it feel like he’s a little bit more in control and I feel like I don’t know that just makes him a little bit happier but he’s fully willing to let you have control of course but you know I just feel like it would be something cute for him because he feel like he can wrap himself around you at any point in time. He’s actually very tall canonly, I think 6’2. He loves your eyebrow piercing and thinks it’s really cool and you’re one of the coolest people he’s ever met. He definitely loves the way that you dress and he doesn’t have much of a sense of fashioned himself in one time he tried to copy your make up and it didn’t end well but anyway, I just think that he would love the way that you dress and he’s honestly in love with alternative people in general and just he sees you as his alt queen. he also loves collecting little trinkets, and if he ever found anything cool while he was searching for roadkill, he would definitely give it to you. You shouldn’t try to make him get coffee or coffee because he would absolutely not be able to do that. You would send him off be like hey can you make some coffee for me? You would hear a loud crash in the kitchen and then he would come back with like coffee beans in a cup of water. He would come to all your shows for a theater, and if anyone that wasn’t you got the lead you would have to like convince him not to try and kill them. Your personality of being outgoing would definitely clash with his bit and I think that would be great because you could get him to talk to more people and be a little bit less unhinged and he also appreciates how sweet and caring you are to him because it’s not something he’s ever really gone his life sometimes he doesn’t even feel like his own family cares. He’s also very clingy and despite being kind of tolerant lanky, he’s actually extremely strong from caring roadkill and doing a lot of farm work growing up so he could absolutely manhandle you if you wanted, but I personally feel like he’d be preferred to be like held, but he would wrap himself around you and he is like probably the clingyest out of the entire family. ANYWAY I ship

❤️❤️❤️

[coffeecat1983]

Hi, I have a drabble request. #11 with Mario and Peach?

I also wanna tell you that I love how in your SMB Movie fics you've breathed so much life into the Mario family, especially the uncles. Since the movie didn't give us that much info about them, now it's hard to think about these characters without being influenced by your characterization in some way😆

I am so sorry this took so long! I got really sick and had to take a break. This is not only for your prompt but a look into a bigger short story I'm working on that fits in with my other Mario Movie-verse pieces. I hope you enjoy!

     "I donno Lu, maybe this is a bad idea."    Luigi raised an eyebrow at his older brother as he helped adjust his bowtie.      "Hey, you already invited Peach, you can't back out now." Luigi pointed out. "I mean, c'mon, she's across the hall getting ready to go."    Mario groaned, tapping his foot. The dance shoe shone with the fresh polish Luigi had given it earlier. He and Luigi were in their old bedroom at the Brooklyn apartment, now converted to a guest bedroom.      "But a family date night?" he groaned again.     "We've done it before with other dates, and Peach knows about the details." Luigi said, turning his attention to adjusting his own tie. "She could have refused, ya know. So quit bein' so nervous."    Mario sat on the edge of one of the beds, letting out a laugh. "Heh, usually I'm sayin' that to you."

   Across the hall at Arthur and Marie's, in their room... Peach lifted the top off the dress box and gasped softly.      "I hope the fit is right." Marie said with a smile. She placed another box beside it. "There's this to go with it."    Carefully setting the first box aside Peach opened the other, her eyes wide at what it held      "How can I thank you for this? They're beautiful." Peach said softly.      "It's our way of welcoming you to the family." Marie replied. "We've been going to this club as a family for a long time, and when Mario said you liked reading about the 1920s' and 30s', we all agreed you should come with."    She opened the closet. "Now that doesn't mean we'll be in your hair all night, you two will get plenty of time alone, too." she said as she began looking through her own outfits. "I remember the first time Art took me to the club. We had a wonderful time that night.      "Does everyone wear special outfits there?" Peach asked. Marie hummed as she thought it over.      "Most do, especially on weekends. You'll see a few people in regular clothes."    There was a knock at the bedroom door and Arthur called out. "Ladies, it's almost showtime!"      "Give us a sec!" Marie called back.

   It was an interesting group that gathered outside the apartment building that night. Mario and Luigi were dressed in fine pressed white dress shirts with dark brown pants and black dress shoes. Dark brown suspenders and bow-ties of their signature colors completed the looks. Giovanni was waiting near the cars, dressed in a sleek black tux and pressed white shirt. Arthur was wearing an outfit similar to the bros only his had a silk, yellow pinstripe vest and black bow-tie, with a newsboy cap on his head. Tony was in black pants and dress shoes, his vest as black as his curled hair with thin tan stripes. A black fedora completed the look.    The men turned as the main door opened and the ladies of the group came out. Marianna was first, in a simple powder blue 1930s' dress with her hair wrapped in a white wrap. Darting up the steps, Giovanni took his wife's hand and walked down with her while Luigi slipped past to hold the door open.      "You ready for this, kid?" Arthur asked, nudging Mario.      "Y-Yeah, I think so." Mario blushed. "I- woah." Peach came out next. She was wearing a baby pink flapper dress with white fringe. Crystal beads were on the fringe, glittering in the light. A matching pink cloche hat with small white feathers finished the outfit with white dance shoes.      "Y-You look amazing." Mario breathed. Peach blushed and in the background Arthur and Tony were snickering, stopping with a sharp look from Giovanni.      "Thanks," she replied, more shy than he had ever seen her. "You look really handsome."    Marie was last out, dressed similar to Peach but in a lavender dress with silver trim and a silver headband. Offering his arm, Luigi led his aunt down the stairs.      "Everyone ready?" Giovanni asked. With agreement all around, the group separated into the two waiting cars and took off.

By "CC"

Thanks again for the request!

[yarnlass]

Dekarios clan <- Dauntrael clan?

This Secret of the Magister book has truthfully not much to relate back to Gale aside the obvious wizard lore, but I did find something that immediately linked to him in my mind.

One former Magister named Maxiladanarr Torstren (Magister from 1322 - 1328 DR, so longer than most at a span of 6 years) spent his time in office covertly creating several genetic lines of magic users. He did this by carefully manipulating certain individuals from magically-inclined families, and as of 1370 those families were prospering a great deal from their magical aptitudes. One such clan was the Dauntrael clan, who as of 1370 mostly live in Tethyr and the Moonshae isles, where they have miles of thriving farmland and a publishing house, called The Curious Eye.

This family is so Gale coded. I'm certain that the Dekarians intermarried with the Dauntraels at some point. Taken from Secrets of the Magisters:

Members of the Dauntrael family tend to be tall and slender, with flowing brown hair that under certain lighting conditions seems almost purple or blue. A few Dauntrael ladies in Tethyr use dyes to make their hair a soft blue in the seasons of summer revelry. Dauntrael always have large, liquid brown or blue eyes, tend to be more comely than average, and usually have mellifluous voices, suited for singing or oration. Only a little more than half of all Dauntrael have the ability to wield magic, but those who do have it tend to rise swiftly in power, and they exhibit great creativity and success in crafting or modifying spells. There are today about seventy Dauntrael mages, and over fifty of these are of higher than 10th level.

Gale didn't inherit blue or purple toned hair (oh but can you imagine? Perhaps Morena's hair is darker and purple-hued), but flowing brown hair, large, liquid brown eyes, comely, great voice? The spell crafting creativity and power? This is sounding so so Gale. There's more too -- as of 1370, the patriarch and matriarch of the family display distinctly Galeran tendencies:

Thurlad’s [the patriarch] love is gathering information about Toril. An orrery (mechanically animated model) of Realmspace occupies the domed upper room of his tower, and his head probably contains more lore about where rivers flow and mines can be found than all the tomes of Candlekeep. He cares not at all, however, for names and dates and the deeds of men, save when such strivings pertain directly to the advancement of magic.

His wife Deluma grows fruit in her gardens, helping them along with gentle light- and heat-altering spells, as a hobby (her husband has no hobbies), and devotes her work time to achieving an ever better understanding of the Weave. This has thus far enabled her to see if planned spells will work (and if so, how), and what effects intended modifications will have. She can already tweak her spells to attain the same sort of precise control over them that a Magister can (for example, doing maximum damage or minimal, just as she chooses), and she could probably, given the time and interest in doing so, craft the equivalent of a Cormanthan spell-web (a construct that links many cast but hung spells, to take later effect when certain conditions are fulfilled).

I need to know so much more about Deluma. By 1492 about 120 years later, there would have been a few generations between her and Gale, but I'm certain Gale would have been proudly compared to his great-great aunt Deluma...

The Dauntrael are skilled diplomats, very good at making neighbors and business colleagues like and value them. As a result, they are highly thought of, as good folk to have around who are both generous and capable. They try not to keep too high a profile, and for the most part people take them for granted, part of the rightful and proper furniture of the local landscape.

Members of this clan, however, see themselves as a family specially gifted by Mystra for some as yet unknown purpose, and they regard it as their duty to rise in local influence (while attracting a minimum of fame or attention) and in skill-at-Art, crafting scrolls, potions, and more permanent items whenever they have the time and means to do so. At the same time, they have a strong independent streak. Dauntrael should be free to marry whomever they please, dwell wherever they please, and do whatever they please.

I cannot believe this family is not related to Gale. The affability, the sense of importance and dedication to their skill, and their confidence to pursue the lives they want all while valuing their community and taking pride in what they do -- it's everything I see in Gale.

There's one story in particular that I imagine Gale taking in by the fireside in his childhood:

Most fireside family tales center on clever “save the day” uses of magic by Dauntrael in various crises, but the most important family legend concerns Shalima Dauntrael of Baldur’s Gate, who chose never to marry, but to have a child ere she grew too old to conceive. [Big Morena energy.] The darkly handsome partner she chose deceived her in many ways. “He” was in truth a marilith, and the child Shalima carried was a cambion. Discovering this well before the birth that would have slain her, the Dauntrael sorceress used every spell she had, or could steal, or could beg or bargain out of a dozen mages she confronted, to alter the nature of her child but not slay it. Her efforts resulted in her own survival, and a male human child, Hemtor, who had only a few tanar’ri characteristics. Perhaps luckily for both Faerûn and the Dauntrael, Hemtor (a wild one in temperament, who became a hiresword and died fighting pirates on the Sea of Fallen Stars) proved to be sterile. Shalima’s tale is told to all young Dauntrael when they despair, or rebel, or quail before something, as an example of the true Dauntrael spirit: This is a family that “never surrenders or gives in, but does what it must and can to win the day.”

This story relates for me back to Gale's ever present but still pragmatic optimism, his ability to roll his sleeves up and get on with what it takes to solve his own catastrophic death sentence as best he can, despite the odds and the face of his bleak fate should he fail. (Also, I can see how it might have affected his disinterest in having children.)

In short, expect to see a lot of blueish haired wet-eyed hunks and babes at your Waterdeep wedding.

[neuroticbookworm]

Step by Step Episode 8 Ramblings

Episode 7 Ramblings, here

Put is not even gonna let Pat say his piece? 2 minutes in and I'm already burning mad

"I haven't taken you for granted like before"

"I know, you've been really good to me" Oh Pat, you pathalogical people pleaser

I continue being impressed by this show showcasing how adults do and should handle relationships and everything that comes with it. This must be one of the most realistic breakup scenes in BLs. And it is done without compromising the emotions of the characters. Hats off, really

Jane is wearing two layers of pink. Our resident Tumblr color demon @respectthepetty has taught us that pink = love, so good to know that his feelings has remained unchanged or even intensified from last when we saw him

My god, Khun Jeng looks so fineeeeeeeee

And he's wearing a dark blue shirt underneath his neutral brown jacket. While Pat is in a dark blue cardigan. Interesting

Ohhhhhhh wow Jane is pissed and Jaab is too. The cat fight between these two is gonna be hilarious

Put, you insufferable snake, ya dumped. Stop misrepresenting facts

Jeng, how the fuck did you know? Are you really THAT perceptive?

Oh man, that is the worst takeaway you can ever have from a failed relationship

*jaw dropped* Oh Jeng is going for the jugular. Oh he's done playing games, he wants to fight

Oooooooooof. Put, you manipulative bastard

Oh it's still not over. Oh they're still going, holy shit, this is intense

Is that a threat, about coming out? Seriously, what the fuck

I CAN'T WAIT to read all the body language analyses y'all are gonna write on that scene. Woah, that really was something

Ae and Beam are here!

Well, Ae looks like a goddess, as usual. What else is new?

I love this scene and the commentary that comes with it. Keep your noses out of pregnant people's business, for fuck's sake! How hard is it to have some basic decency?

I love that Tae is calling out how quickly Jeng's mood changes from brooding to giddy and vice versa in this conversation.

We have a new stuffie. The shark is out and the tiger is in. YES I SEE IT AND I LOVE IT

Oh I'm sooo ready for this non-date date. I want the sweet, sweet fluff to drown me. Gimme all the blushing, all the eye contact, all the accidental brushing of fingers, GIVE IT TO ME

OH MY GOD, he planned the whole thing. He had people move chairs out of the way for aesthetics. This complete bitch (affectionate)

GUYS, THE FLIRTING, I know I said I can handle it, but this is too adorable ^^

Jeng just hung up on his brother in a flash, not even waiting for him to respond? Oh that's cold

Oh shit, Pat is drunk, again, Here come the truth bombs

Damn, Man Trisanu is nailing this. He is acting his ass off to show how restless Jeng feels before every almost-confession

This slowburn is gonna kill us all, honestly

Oh we are dancing, oh it's so gloriously awkward, oh make it stop

Jaab, my beloved, I've missed your melodrama. You look like a divorced sugar baby who won half the riches in the settlement, I love it

Jeng tells Pat he can be just a safe space for him, while Pat is sobbing on his shoulder about his ex. All while Jeng has been trying the whole day to confess his own feelings for Pat. Every atom of this man is a green flag, I swear

These drunk disaster gays, I love them so much

Pat, sweetie, no. Please, you must be joking. Don't tell me you didn't know, DON'T TELL ME YOU ARE THAT OBLIVIOUS!

Okay, now Pat has to rethink each and every one of their interactions to see if he has ever misled Jeng, or if Jeng has ever crossed his boundaries. And then recalibrate his feelings with this new information. Yeah, this could take a while.

I'm leaning more and more towards the possibility of a second season, or even a special episode, after the show ends. Because there is no way they can fit all the domesticity these characters deserve within the next couple of episodes.

Ahhhh I can't believe the slowburn is still not over. I love it and I hate it and I'm pretty sure this show has turned me into a sadomasochist.

[l-lend]

@clonexreaderbingo

a/n: second square down let's gooo! I don't know if tooka pastries are a thing, but if anyone finds me one I'd be grateful. Blue dividers by @saradika

@locitapurplepink, @rain-on-kamino, @writing-positivelyexisting, @burningfieldof-clover, @padawancat97, @ahsokastechie

The young woman stifled a yawn as she continued to work the mass of dough to her standards to be plopped into pans to bake. She continued working the dough sparing glances to the chrono on the wall as the sky outside began to lighten with the sunrise. Her pulse spiked when the chrono was checked again. She abandoned the lump of dough as she snatched up a pastry box. The bell chiming as the door opened and closed.

The brisk walk to the pier was nerve wracking. Her eyes scanning among each early riser. With her target nowhere in sight, she clambered down to the edge of the pier. The box place on top of one of the stakes to avoid the chance of the confections being trampled underfoot. She whipped around and began making her way back to the bakery. Her heart leaped into her throat as she caught a glimpse of him. He often towered over the villagers as he made his way to his morning fishing spot. A swear slipped from her lips. Every nerve in her body screaming to run.

Thankfully someone was looking out as a group of sailors called out a warning. Their net loaded down with their catch swung wildly with a crate knocked aside. Its contents never met the ground as a pair of strong hands kept it stable. A surge of heat washed over her face before she took the opportunity to flee.

A gentle shove pushed the crate back in place as the large clone pulled back. He offered a wave to the sailors when they yelled out their thanks. Once the deed was done, he returned to his leisurely stroll along the pier to cast his line for the morning. His usual fishing spot held an unfamiliar box. He would have ignored the plain parcel, however his interest was piqued at seeing his name written across the top.

The lid opened with a soft tug of a tab. Nestled inside were tiny confections molded into the shape of tookas. They appeared as if they were posed to be laying on their bellies. Slivers of color, later discovered to be fruit, tucked in between their paws while a fine white powder was dusted along their backs. He gingerly plucked up one of the treats before popping it into his mouth. A moment of awe washed over him as the mass of sugary goodness met his tongue. His fishing pole paid forgotten while he emptied the box.

A familiar face was leaned against the Marauder while a pair of legs peeked out from underneath.

“Catch anything good, big guy?”

The large clone shook his head.

“Nothin' today, but those little pastries were great.”

“Pastries?” The treasure hunter chuckled, “You pick up a secret admirer?”

He shrugged his massive shoulders, “Only had my name on the box, so thought it was from one of the villagers.”

Phee covered her knowing smile with her hand, “You might be on the right track.”

“It's obvious on how you can narrow it down, Wrecker.”

The clone underneath the ship began to shuffle out just enough to meet his brother's gaze.

“If it was left out for you, and seeing as how you got it, it could be inferred that they know of your habits while being on Pabu. Either they stayed up to deliver this parcel to you or they are usually up at sunrise when you go fishing.”

Wrecker frowned as he thought over Tech’s explanation before looking to Phee.

“So…they wanted me to have this, but didn’t want to stick around for me to thank them?”

“Looks like it, but did those pastries look Ike anything special?”

The large clone lit up, “Yeah! They were shaped like tookas. They were almost too cute to eat.”

Phee’s smile grew, “I think I know who you might be looking for.”

The clone next to her leveled a gaze from beneath his glasses, “and that would be..”

She huffed a laugh, “You’re smart, brown eyes. You don’t need my help figuring it out. Besides it might be best if he goes to see about it himself.”

The larger clone groaned, “Can I at least get a hint?”

“Why don’t you ask around to see if the bakers on the island sold any like your pastries.”

With that said, Wrecker set off back into town to hopefully track down his secret admirer.

Hours passed by as he asked a couple of the shops. The first one had no idea of the tooka shaped confections while the other suggested another shop by the water. It was well passed the afternoon by the time he had returned to the coast. A few of the villagers greeted him as they passed, and he did offer his usual greeting in return, but he was on a mission. Hopefully, the baker could help him.

The door chimed as he pushed open the door.

“Just a minute.” Called a voice from the back.

He waited patiently as he heard what could be trays clattering together before his gaze drifted down to see the woman emerge. Spots of flour speckled her apron with her hair swept out of her face. The bakery suddenly felt a bit warmer.

She approached setting down a tray laden with loaves of bread on her counter. Her fingers idly tracing the edges.

“Can I help you?”

“Uh..yeah, I was looking to see if you sold any pastries?”

She nodded abandoning her tray to usher him toward her display case.

“I’ve got a few I sell regularly. What exactly are you looking for?”

Wrecker eyed up each one of the desserts ranging from cakes to pies and even some smaller hand held treats, but he sighed.

“These are nice, but I was lookin’ for ones shaped like tookas.”

When he turned back to see her face, she had gained some color to her cheeks. Perhaps it was the heat from being near an oven all day.

“Tookas?”

“Yeah, I’ve been lookin’ all over for who made ‘em. And well, this is the last bakery I could find.”

She idly fussed with her hands, “Ah, well that’s a shame. I’m sure they taste pretty good with the fruit held in their paws.”

Something clicked.

“How did you know?”

Her eyes grew wide, “I…”

He regarded her expression for only a moment, “Did you make ‘em?”

A hand cradled the back of his neck, “Because if you did, they were really good.”

Her gaze was cast downward focused on her twiddling fingers, “Thank you. I’m glad you liked them.”

The tables turned as the clone looked down at her, “Can I…take you to dinner? To thank you for the sweets.”

The smile he received made his chest clench.

“I’d like that.”