#i'm half joking yet also so serious

[betterwithbooksthanwithpeople]

gotta say that THE most relatable part of Bandstand is when Julia is really sad so she wears her Depression Cardigan™️

[falderaletcetera]

the casual background representation in elementary is one thing (very good thing) (I'm especially appreciating the fat ppl and ppl with visible disabilities as I catch up on season six) but the REAL joy here is the representation of weirdos. sex weirdos. platonic weirdos. sherlock's Entire Unrelenting Deal. one of his recurring consultants? a guy who prefers to be naked when he has to focus on maths. so many people are a bit of a freak in this and it's GREAT.

[egg2k16]

This may be the depression speaking + the earliest trauma I've ever gone thru (completely accidental as well), but I think it's kinda pointless to give me gifts. I have clothes that still fit me and are in excellent condition. I have shoes. I have a sizeable movie collection (that tbf I can always add to), and all the books I'd want. I don't paint anymore so it's useless giving me art supplies. And unfortunately even giving me money is hilariously pointless bcus I'm not even gonna spend it on anything, I'm just gonna put it into my savings account and keep living day by day as I do: doing nothing...interesting

[kailoweenie]

*⁠.⁠✧My good Looking Boy

Dae-ho/player 388 x GN! Reader

Author's note: no games/debt AU, established relationship, a bit of angst in terms of his insecurities yet mostly fluffy for the guy!!

I love him so much, Also I'm going to keep most of my fics as gender neutral as possible!!

It was just one of those lazy days in your shared apartment room. You were sat side by side on the comfy sofa, his arm lazily stretched on top of the plush cushion, all his focus on the TV screen.

He let out a soft chuckle, pointing out a funny joke that was said on the screen which you merely nodded in response. You paid no mind to what he was watching, more focused on the man himself than the screen.

The black locks of hair almost reached his shoulders, opting to tie a small part of his hair up and leave the rest as it is.

It was how he usually styled it. You've seen it times and times before, yet, it didn't stop you from admiring him every time he did so. How he'd run his hand through his hair, brushing them back behind his ear, taking out one of his spare hair ties- the ones you bought for him- before splitting the upper part of his hair and pulling it into a small pony tail.

It took him a few more minutes before he finally noticed your gaze on him. He tilted his head as he spoke "what's up?" A small giddy smile on his lips as he turned his focus towards you

"your hair." You responded "it's really nice." You quickly added on afterwards

He smile falters a bit, seemingly a bit surprised at your words, his hand slowly reaching up to the back of his head, his fingers threading his locks of hair.

"you...you think so?" He sounded almost insecure, not truly sure if you were serious or not. Considering its length and how his...dad always seemed to have berated him for it.

Despite moving out years ago, his father's words seemed to still stick to him even now.

"yeah. It looks nice, especially when you tie it up like this" you nudged your head towards the tiny pony tail. Hand slowly reaching out to idly twirl the hair around his nape, an adoring smile on your face that practically made his heart flutter in response.

He glanced away for a moment, composing himself before looking back, a giant grin on his face this time as he leaned in closer. Like he was about to tell you a secret

"you know....a lot of people...they get really jealous when they see my hair and I can't blame them. It's really nice isn't it?" He chuckled, flaunting off his hair in a joking manner.

Even as he waves off the compliment, the flush on his face betrays his words "oh stop it..." He rubs one of his flushed cheeks, trying to ease the embarrassment he was getting for being so flustered easily.

You chuckle alongside him, your focus never leaving his face as you spoke "I'm being serious Dae-ho, you're good looking.”

He soon regained composure, not yet ending the conversation. "ya know, I've seen more good looking people. For example" he raised a pointer finger up before poking you gently on the forehead, a playful smile on his lips "you."

You rolled your eyes at his antics, your own smile still present on your lips. "Then it seems we're both good looking then. It's just that you're my favorite good looking boy~" your words were playfully flirty, but the hint of genuineness was easily caught on by him.

He reached for your hand, resting it on top of yours. "I appreciate you so much..." He trailed off before his gaze flickered towards the TV. "but also, we totally just missed half of the movie" he pointed out with a small laugh. Though he wasn't upset by it at all.

He meant every word he said. Any moment talking to you...he appreciates every single second of it.

[pearlymel]

Sylus remembers clearly the day he found out you were both having twins. Twins, as in two babies as yours and his first children.

How you almost passed out when the doctor delivered the news, but he was quick to tell you that everything would be okay.

He's going to be the best husband for you, and for the twins..?

they sure were going to be a handful.

“Sylus!” Sylus' head snapped towards the kitchen, where your voice had come from, “come get your son before i cook him!”

He knew that you were joking. Probably.

the kitchen, one hand holding his little girl's hand guiding her along. "Now, now," he called out as he entered the kitchen, "No cooking the children, sweetie.”

You let out a sigh when you watch the boy run away while letting out giggles, his face and hands full of white flour.

Seeing this, Sylus let out an exasperated sigh as well, his gaze shifting from his running figure to the mess of flour on the floor. "Sorry about the mess he made," he muttered before looking over at you, a sheepish smile on his face. "Go to your brother,” he urges the girl next to him, she nods slowly before running off to him.

“I'll feed him to the ducks one day.” You say with determination, still focused on trying to make this dinner a success after the mess.

But Sylus chuckled at your threat, knowing all too well that you were only half-serious. He could see the twitching in your eyes, but he also knew that you loved both of your children dearly, even if they could be a handful sometimes.

”Though I suspect he would probably find a way to befriend them and make a mess with them.”

“.. why are you right?”

“because i know my children,” he says proudly, then makes slow steps from behind you to not alert you so suddenly, his arms snaking around your waste with his chin resting on your shoulder, “what are you making?”

You smile, “dinner.”

"Smartass," he teased, "I meant what kind of dinner are you making?” he whispers calmly, a soft conversation between you two, with his thumb rubbing ideally on you.

“hm, i could be dinner… but oh well.” you sigh dramatically and he laughs quietly.

You couldn't even continue because you hear a faint “ewwww.” Coming from the corner.

You both glance back at the two heads peeking out from the wall, and you roll your eyes.

"and here I was, having a moment with your mother," he said to them, his voice still low yet amused. "You two really have a knack for interrupting, don't you?”

Your little girl was the first to speak, “it was his idea.” She started quietly, her fingers fidgeting together, but her brother only gasped, “she's lying!”

"Oh, really now?" he’s skeptical, and he approaches both of them with his arms crossed, “Hmm, it's always the innocent ones who lie, isn't it?”

“but I'm not—”

“liar.” The little one huffs and looks away with annoyance, but the minute he could hear his sister im the verge of tears, he knew he messed up.

Sylus was quick to notice her distraught demeanor, his heart clenching slightly at the sight of her on the verge of tears.

"you," Sylus pointed out at the other twin, his voice firmer and authoritative, "did you cause the mess?”

…

Sylus let out a deep sigh, his stern expression softening slightly. He knew he was just being a mischievous little boy, but he also had to nip such behavior in the bud.

"You know better than to blame others for your pranks,” he said, his voice firm but gentle. "Apologize to your sister.”

The girl sniffled, the threat of tears subsiding as she accepted her brother's apology. She wiped away her stray tears with the back of her hand, a small smile forming on her face.

Sylus nodded approvingly, he patted both of them on their head gently. "There we go, now go back and play together.”

This whole time you were watching the scene with the biggest smile on your face, and Sylus was already prepared for your upcoming teasing words.

“and the father of the year goes to.. you.” ... except he didn't expect this rare sweet statement of yours. He's reminded of why he put a ring on it in the beginning.

"What can I say?" he replied, his voice filled with pride. "I have a talent for handling troublemakers." He placed both of his arms on the counter to your sides, boxing you in, "though, to be fair, they get their mischievous streaks from their mother," he added, and you gasp before turning around. burnt dinner it is.

[sagebrush-and-sadness]

BOOTHILL HEADCANONS

author's notes just some silly goofy headcanons for Boothill because he's a cutie patootie and I love him fem!reader, completely SFW ♡ and ⥩ are appreciated!

※ He always patiently waits for you to finish applying sunscreen or moisturizer to his face before he can finally go shooting bad guys to his heart's content. Most of the time he jokes around or teasingly dodges your hands; sometimes he mumbles that this is embarassing and he really doesn't care, sweetie, come on, but he will always give you a kiss as a token of gratitude. Because, trust me, he does care.

※ Loves snapping his teeth at you. It's a (weirdly charming) sign of affection, a habit Boothill took up pretty early in your relationship. You teasingly call it a cute aggression and he doesn't deny it. However, if he does that in public at someone else, you better get a hold of him and scatter away because the man is getting pissed.

※ Oh, he absolutely will blow raspberries on your neck whenever he has a chance to hug you from behind. And he's as sly as an old fox, lulling you into a false sense of security with gentle kisses and nuzzles — just to violently strike a poor, helpless you and dance away laughing joyfully.

※ Your first kiss with Boothill was that of desperation — he just barely made it out alive from one of the IPC warehouses, his left leg limp and dragging lifelessly across the floor, a few bullet holes adorning his signature hat, thankfully not lost in the heat of a battle. He looked no better than a wild ragged coyotte, a pitiful thing, an unsightly creature smelling of rot and blood, but upon seeing him, safe and relatively sound, your heart swelled with tenderness and your eyes — with hot tears. You wanted to kiss him then and there, and he anticipated as much, grabbing your face in his hands, firm yet gentle, and all but smashing your lips together. Perhaps, it was a shatter of all your dreams about a romantic first kiss, but at that moment it was the most perfect one...

...Or was it? As tender and loving as Boothill was with you, his tongue still tasted like oil and gunpowder. He laughed it off the first time you made a face, but since then he's made a mental note to always carry a bag of candies and lollipops with him.

※ He's the type of guy to randomly get you fresh field flowers.

Also the type to dance with you while holding one in his teeth. There is a whole anecdote about him picking an unknown flower that turned out to be quite poisonous and suffering from tongue swelling half a day after that. Don't bring this story up, though, his male ego is still recovering.

※ Boothill's upbringing obliges him to treat women with courtesy and respect. He may look like a heartbreaker to some, but in truth, his mindset is that of a traditional man. This said, he loves referring to you as a 'woman'. His woman. He relishes the fact and there is so much pride, so much infatuation and genuine awe behind this word every time he all but purrs it out. It's a strangely specific nickname of his, and no matter how unusual it might have sounded to you at first, now your heart flatters every time you hear it drip from his lips. After all, you are his woman and he is your handsome cowboy.

He might however bark at you when you're pestering him. Something in the lines of 'I'm busy, woman, what are ya yapping 'bout?'. Naturally, he never uses it as a means to offend and will put a bullet through the head of anyone who dares belittle you like that. The unspoken rule of a cowboy says: never criticize another gentleman's hat, horse and wife. And Boothill is very serious about his rules, even if technically you are not his wife (yet).

※ He adores it when you dress up for him. No matter how often or seldom you do that, no matter what exactly you're wearing — a cute cocktail dress or a strict suit — he would whistle low and stride right to you with the air of a beau who just saw the girl he'd buy a drink for. His sultry pretentious flirting never fails to make you giggle.

※ Boothill will always find time for you. No matter how many light days separate you from each other, no matter how busy the schedule or how dangerous the enemies, he can never really get you out of his head. You are always there, his little beacon of light, and he knows that you're waiting for him with worry and hope. He hates telling you that you can't come with him this time; hates seeing your smile drop and your fingers fidget anxiously as you watch him step on an unknown land. He misses you dearly five minutes into the mission, so he calls you as often as he can, showing you all the pictures he took or all the things he got for you as souvenirs. When it comes to your messages or calls there is never really bad timing for Boothill — an inconvenient one, perhaps, but even the heat of the battle will not stop him from picking up. He might even consider against shooting the poor son of a bitch that let him talk to you peacefully out of courtesy, but we will see about that.

※ Ever since you came into his life, Boothill's spending habits have gotten somewhat healthier. The thing is — the guy is loaded, yet money never held any real interest for him. After all, he became a hunting dog not for the promise of fresh bones, it was more of a pleasant bonus rather than a necessity. Most of his credits were spent on oil for his spaceship and himself, some repairs here and there, bullets and, surprisingly, booze — now unable to fully experience the harmful effects of a few bottles of whiskey a day, Boothill drinks it in the same manner some people chew on their gum. However you and your loyal companionship awoke something within him, something he thought had died many miserable years ago. An urge to care. And it came so naturally to him, too. It was very easy, on a level of subconscious, for him to pick up the habit of buying you food — the one he knows you like, of the highest quality. Or making sure you have an outfit for any occasion in your life and enough space to store them all. Or that all your beauty and health treatments are paid for. Or... and the list goes on and on. Boothill is a man who will respect you for wanting to be independent, sure, but will not shame you for wanting to be provided for.

English is not my native language. So please, if you see any mistakes in grammar, punctuation or spelling, or simply think that something sounds weird, let me know! Ty!

[irisintheafterglow]

touya todoroki doesn't like talking. sure, he'll quip and joke and mock a dead horse until it's begging to be killed again, but discussing serious topics were as foreign to him as the next galaxy. not just about his family or his accident or his vendetta against endeavor, but he is the man of few words. physically, it tears his throat to speak for extended amounts of time, and emotionally, he's not the type to share his inner anguish at length.

so when he starts to murmur something in the darkest hours of the night, your head on his chest as he gently runs a fingertip in spirals on your bare back, you tense. and, since he never misses anything when it comes to you, he tenses too.

"something wrong?"

"no," you say too quickly, already aware of how you'd essentially blown up his train of thought. "nothing. keep going."

"you're lying," he mutters against your temple, his voice darker and sharper than whiskey. "thought we said no more lying."

"we also said you'd never end up back in my bed, yet here we are," you remark and there's a small puff of air when he huffs, amused. "it's nothing, really." your eyes fall shut and your body syncs to his breathing rhythm, on the verge of sleeping when he speaks so quietly, you could've missed what he said.

"i don't like when you say that." you blink slowly, fighting to stay awake.

"say what?"

"that something is nothing, like i'm supposed to ignore what you said."

"maybe it was something stupid that you don't need to worry about," you propose but he has none of it.

"then i'll be the judge of that." sighing, you prop yourself onto one elbow and look down at him, his lower half covered by your comforter and his upper body completely exposed. your thumb lightly brushes the seam of his burn scars, stalling in hopes that he'll forget what you were arguing about. he doesn't, of course. "so?"

"so what?"

"if you're gonna keep ogling me, you might as well say what you want to say," he smirks and you roll your eyes.

"ogling is such a strong word." your lips purse and you make to pull your hand away, but he's fast to grab your wrist and press your palm to his heart. it's a steady thump, thump, thump that you could recognize as his in any other world. "i'd say 'admiring' is a better word for it."

"you'd be the first to think so, sweetheart."

"you don't like when i ogle you?" you ask teasingly, your fingertips grazing his collarbone, over the spot that vaguely held the mark of your teeth.

"well, yeah," he confirms like it was written in neon graffiti on your bedroom walls. his eyes flick down to your hand as it caresses the mottled skin. "no one thinks this is pretty. 's just not the way the rest of the world works." his eyes flutter shut under the safety of your touch; something pangs in your chest and you suddenly have the urge to cry. "don't start with all that."

"how did you know--"

"you swallow and blink a lot when you're about to cry."

"but your eyes are--"

"i can imagine your eyelashes fluttering, dear, and you're too sensitive when it comes to me," he explains patiently, with only the slightest patronizing tone. cracking a single eye open, he pulls you back down to his body and presses his lips softly to your forehead. "don't cry for me. i'm not worth it."

"of course you're worth it," you insist and he scoffs. "maybe i'm not like the rest of the world, because i think you're beautiful." it's his turn to fall silent, unsure of how to respond to such blunt statements of adoration. "stop it."

"stop what?"

"stop...stopping," you shrug and he snorts.

"what are you on about?"

"stop not talking," you frown in spite of his smirk. "i want you to keep talking." his chest rises and falls beneath your ear, warm and nothing but yours. "please?"

"if you insist," he murmurs, "but only for you."

---

i miss my bf again man...it's iris misses touya hours every hour

[munson-blurbs]

How do you think Eddie would react to a fwb reader who uses sex as a distraction from their feelings?? Like, they’ve been having a bad week an their mental state isn’t great but heyyy there’s sex. Reader doesn’t really care about the pleasure part of sex just the distraction. Worried Eddie would feel a little used ngl :P

((Dancy dances away nervously))

I know you started this with "do you think" but my brain said WRITE A BLURB so here we are. Also shoutout @corroded-hellfire for helping me make it cute without being cliche.

Warnings: mentions of smut (18+ only, minors DNI), friends with benefits, angst/yearning, idiots in love, made it fluffy because I'm a sap

WC: 747

--

You hadn’t thought anything of it the night he’d called you “baby.” He was deep within you, melding his body with yours. Lost in the moment.

Or the night he’d mumbled, “your pussy was made for me” while slamming into you from behind. It was just dirty talk; nothing more and nothing less. 

Maybe you should have been tipped off when he’d growled, “mine,” his voice barely above a whisper as he pressed soft kisses below your earlobe. You’d figured the word, like the sex, was meaningless. 

But tonight’s comment stops you in your tracks. Your legs are wobbling beneath you, exhausted from riding him, as you step back into your pants. 

“Do you wanna, like, cuddle for a sec?”

A giggle escapes from your lips, swollen and kiss-bitten. He’s joking; he has to be. The two of you have a perfectly choreographed routine: you have a bad day, you call Eddie, you fuck, and then you leave. And his latest suggestion would definitely interfere with step four. 

When your eyes meet his, you realize that he’s serious. Hurt and confusion at your laughter crease his brows, and he tugs the sheet up a bit higher. 

“Sorry, I, um…” He shakes his head and rubs his face. “Never mind. You probably have to go anyway.”

You’re in no hurry to return home, fresh off of yet another argument with your roommate. That’s why you’d come over to Eddie’s trailer in the first place. And it isn’t as though you’d never thought about being in his strong, tattooed arms. The way he’d hold you flush against him, your cheek on his chest, the sound of his heartbeat in your ear. It’s something you’d once wanted—craved, even—but you couldn’t let vulnerability infiltrate you like that again. 

You spent high school watching him pine over the cheerleaders. He unwittingly broke your heart over and over with each woman he hooked up with at the Hideout, overlooking you despite your presence at every show. Being friends with benefits is risky enough, and post-sex snuggling will send you teetering over the edge back into the rocky terrain of unrequited love. 

And so you lean into humor as you shrug on your shirt. “I don’t think this friends-with-benefits arrangement includes cuddling.” Keeping your tone light and even, restraining every desire to crawl into bed with him. 

“Right, yeah.” He sighs and offers a sad half-smile. “It’s just…I was thinking—”

“That’s dangerous.”

He flips you off and continues. “I was thinking that maybe we could be more than that. Y’know, maybe we could have sex when you’re happy, too.” 

“I am happy when we have sex,” you counter.

Eddie shakes his head again. “I’m talking about before we do it.” He gnaws on his thumbnail. “It feels like you only want me when you have a bad day. A-And I’m glad I can be here for you and stuff, but sometimes I wonder if I’m a friend or just a good lay.”

You try to look at him when you speak, but he keeps his gaze trained on the ground. “Eddie,” you start, taking a seat next to him. His chest is slick with sweat, the soft hairs matted down. “Eddie, I had the biggest, dumbest crush on you when we were younger. And knowing I couldn’t have you tore me apart.” You let your hand rest on his. “I can’t risk having you and then losing you.”

“Losing me?” Eddie laughs softly and his free palm comes up to cup your cheek. “Look at me. Where am I going?”

“You could find someone new, someone better, someone who—”

He cuts you off with a searing kiss, remnants of your arousal still tinging his lips and tongue. “There’s no one better,” he murmurs. “You see me answering the door at two in the morning for anyone else? Think I’d miss out on precious sleep for them?” 

One arm hooks around you back and pulls you in until you assume the little spoon position. Nimble fingers undo the button of your jeans, slowly and patiently, a stark contrast to the way he’d practically torn the denim removing them earlier. 

“‘S that comfier?” He asks through a yawn.

“Mhm.” And it is. It’s the most relaxed you’ve been in a while, at least without him inside you. 

His curls tickle the back of your neck as he nuzzles into you. He staves off sleep long enough to speak one last time. 

“I’m glad you’re staying, baby.”

--

[pickingupmymercedes]

Ways they show they love each other pt. 2 - Lewis Hamilton

Other 5 snippets of fluff (part 1 here)

Also there's a bunch more just like these ones if you like them - Ways to say I love you p1 / p2 ; All these little things - p1 / p2 ; Small firsts

pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Reader!

wordcount: +4k

a/n: Hope you guys like the other 5❤️

As always, I'm open for feedback, come say hi!

______________________________________________________________

A shared laugh

The garage hummed with its usual controlled chaos—engineers calling out last-minute adjustments, mechanics moving with practiced precision, and the soft hiss of machinery setting the stage for another session of free practice.

It was the kind of environment where every second mattered. And yet, in the corner, just a little off to the side of it all, there was a pocket of something entirely different.

Y/n leaned against the side of a counter, arms folded across her chest, a teasing smile playing at her lips. She was watching him as he stood in front of her, half-dressed in his race suit, the top half still hanging loose around his waist.

His arms were bare as he put on his fireproofs, and his face seemed relaxed—a quiet playfulness reserved only for moments like this, where no one was looking too closely.

Except, of course, someone always was.

And now the video was on every Mercedes’s social account for everyone to watch too.

“You’re actually serious right now?” Y/n voice could be heard, tinged with disbelief as she raised an eyebrow at him.

Lewis grinned, his eyes gleaming mischievously. “I’m telling you, it’s true.”

“No way” she replied, shaking her head. “You can’t honestly believe that.”

“I’m not making it up!” He insisted, stepping closer, his hands animated as he tried to explain whatever ridiculous story he’d just finished telling her. “I’m not the only one who thinks that a burrito is technically a sandwich.”

Y/n burst out laughing, unable to contain herself any longer. “A burrito?” she managed between giggles, wiping at her eyes. “Lewis, I swear, this is the dumbest debate I’ve ever had with you.”

Lewis was laughing too now, the deep, contagious sound of it filling the space around them.

It was the kind of laugh that made anyone within earshot want to smile, even if they didn’t know what the joke was. And right now, the joke didn’t matter—it was the shared absurdity of the moment that had them both in stitches, doubling over in the midst of all the seriousness around them.

One of the engineers glanced up from his workstation, catching sight of the scene. He looked confused and amused by the way Lewis looked at Y/n, the way they bounced off each other’s energy so effortlessly.

They were in their own bubble, and it was hard not to notice how much lighter the air felt around them.

“Okay, okay,” Y/n said, holding up a hand as if to stop herself from laughing any further. “You win. Burritos are sandwiches now. You’ve officially lost your mind, but fine.”

Lewis chuckled, leaning against the car beside her, still catching his breath. “Took you long enough to come around” he teased, nudging her gently with his elbow.

She rolled her eyes, but there was no hiding the fondness in her expression.

Just then, the race engineer called out to Lewis, signaling that it was time to get back to business. The moment was over, but the laughter still lingered between them, a spark of something light and easy in the middle of an otherwise intense environment.

Lewis straightened up, pulling his race suit fully over his shoulders and zipping it up. The smile was still on his face, though, and Y/n noticed how it softened as he glanced her way again before putting on his helmet.

“Good luck out there, burrito boy,” she called after him, her tone teasing but warm.

He paused, helmet in hand, and shot her one last look over his shoulder. “Sandwich,” he corrected, his grin unmistakable.

A comforting touch

The morning air could be felt as Lewis stepped out of his hotel, greeted by the familiar sight of eager fans gathered just at the entrance.

Their energy was something for 8 in the morning, a mixture of excitement and admiration that seemed to surge towards him in waves.

Y/n stood a few steps behind, her presence almost unnoticed by those who didn’t know where to look.

As always, Lewis paused at the threshold, scanning the crowd. It was a ritual of sorts—a moment to gauge the atmosphere, to read the room, even if the room was the open air of a city street.

His expression was calm, composed, but Y/n could see the weight of the day ahead in the slight tension in his shoulders. She knew this routine, knew how the spotlight both invigorated and drained him.

Y/n caught his eye, offering a small, reassuring smile. It was a silent nudge, a gentle encouragement, and she tilted her head slightly towards the fans as if to say, Go on, they’re waiting for you.

Lewis hesitated for a fraction of a second, then nodded, stepping forward to engage with the crowd. His smile widening as he reached the fans, his demeanor the charismatic champion they all adored.

Y/n watched as he moved from person to person, signing caps, taking photos, exchanging a few words that would become cherished memories for those lucky enough to be there.

She could have stayed back, let him handle it alone—he was used to this.

But instead of going for the waiting, she found herself pulled towards the crowd, her own steps unhurried.

There was no grand gesture, no need to make her presence known. She simply started gathering the items people held out as if she was her assistant —caps, shirts, posters—creating a small pile for Lewis to sign as he worked his way down the line.

As she turned to pass the cap to Lewis, their hands brushed—just a fleeting touch, barely there, but enough to draw his attention.

He glanced at her, a question in his eyes, and she responded with a soft squeeze of his hand, a silent affirmation that she was there with him, sharing the moment, supporting him somehow.

To anyone watching, it was just a brief interaction, lost in the flurry of excitement. But to those who knew it was a glimpse into something that had been kept a secret for a while.

There was a rhythm to it, a dance of sorts, as they navigated the crowd together. She would hand him a cap or a poster, and he would sign it, occasionally looking her way with a subtle smile that only she could read.

It was in these moments, these quiet exchanges amid the chaos, that the depth of their connection became visible, not just to each other but to those around them.

One of the fans, a woman in her mid-thirties, watched them with a curious expression. She wasn’t there for Y/n—she was there for Lewis, like everyone else—but she couldn’t help noticing the way they interacted.

There was something so natural, so effortless, in the way they moved together. It was like watching a well-rehearsed play, each knowing their role without needing to speak their lines.

Lewis finished signing the last few items, Y/n handed back the cap to a young girl, who beamed as if she had just received a priceless treasure. Lewis watched the exchange, his eyes softening as he saw the way Y/n knelt to speak to a young girl, making sure she felt seen, valued.

When Y/n stood up again, Lewis was there, closer than before.

He placed a hand on the small of her back, a gesture so subtle it might have gone unnoticed if not for the way she instinctively leaned into it. They didn’t need to say anything; the touch was enough, a grounding force amidst the buzz of the crowd.

And for those who caught that, it was clear: this was love, not in the grand declarations or the flashy displays, but in the small, comforting touches that passed between them, the ones that said, I’m here, I’m with you, we’re in this together.

A supportive gesture

The stretch of road at kilometer 30 was lined with spectators, their cheers echoing off the buildings as runners powered past in the late stages of the marathon. Signs of encouragement waved in the breeze, cowbells chimed, and the occasional horn blared from the sidelines.

Among the crowd, faces blurred together, but one figure stood out—though he tried his best not to.

Lewis disguised in a plain black hoodie and sunglasses, stood at the edge of the barriers, holding a bottle of hydrolites and a couple of gels in his hands.

To most people, he was just another supporter, cheering on the runners like any other fan. But to the few who managed to catch a glimpse, a double-take revealed the truth.

The F1 superstar, one of the most recognizable faces in the world, was standing quietly, trying to blend into the crowd.

He wasn’t there for the attention though. This wasn’t about him. Today was about Y/n.

She had been training for months, putting in the hours and the sweat. And Lewis had been right there with her every step of the way, in the background, supporting her as she chased down a goal that had nothing to do with racing or Formula 1.

Today, she was the one in the spotlight.

As the runners passed by, his eyes scanned the crowd, searching for her familiar figure. She usually held a strong pace in the early stages, and he knew this was where the race got tough.

Kilometer 30 was her hardest wall, where fatigue set in, muscles burned, and the mental battle began.

He shifted his weight from foot to foot, his grip tightening on the bottle, his heart pounding in rhythm with the runners' footsteps.

He’d been tracking her progress the whole way, checking his phone for updates on her pacing and timing it perfectly so he’d be waiting when she rounded the corner.

And then she came into view. Her face set in that expression Lewis knew so well. The one that said she wasn’t giving up, no matter how tough it got.

Without a word, Lewis stepped forward, arm outstretched with the bottle and gels. Y/n’s eyes flickered up as she passed, and for a second, their gazes met. She didn’t say anything—she didn’t need to.

She just grabbed the bottle, took the gels, and in one smooth motion, continued her pace.

It was a split-second exchange, a tiny moment in the grand scheme of her marathon. But it was more than enough.

“I’ll be waiting at the finish line!” Lewis blurted out, his voice louder than intended as she disappeared into the sea of runners ahead.

Y/n turned around slightly, not breaking her stride, flashing him the briefest hint of a smile curl at the edge of her lips.

He couldn’t help but smile back, the fans behind him snapping pictures, likely posting online about how they had seen Lewis waiting at the side of her marathon.

The moment didn’t even last a minute. It wasn’t grand, it wasn’t flashy, but it was his way of showing up for her.

But what they didn’t see—what no one but Y/n could truly understand—was that this wasn’t the guy they knew. This wasn’t the F1 superstar, the champion, or the media personality.

This was just Lewis. Her boyfriend, the guy who would stand on the side of roads with a bottle of Hydrolite and gels. To make sure she gave her best.

The fans only caught glimpses of it—the way he waited patiently just for her. The way he smiled and encouraged her. The way he leaned in close to make sure she knew that he was here for her and her alone.

A few people around him had started to whisper, some with wide eyes realizing who he was, but he didn’t care. Not today. Today, he was just a guy standing at the 30-kilometer mark, cheering on his girl, making sure she had what she needed to keep going.

As he melted back into the crowd, pulling the hood of his sweatshirt up a little tighter, a couple of fans tried to approach, cameras raised in anticipation. But Lewis gave them a polite nod and quietly slipped away before they could ask for anything more.

He wasn’t here to be the F1 star today. He was here for her.

And he had to reach that final gate.

Because no matter what, he knew one thing for sure: he’d be waiting for her at the finish line, just like he promised.

A helping hand

The car door swung open to noise and flashes, cameras popping off in the crisp evening air. Fans lined the walkway outside the event, eager to catch a glimpse of Lewis Hamilton and Y/n as they arrived.

Y/n smoothed the fabric of her dress, taking a steadying breath as she prepared to step out of the car. She was a pro at these types of events, but it’d be the first they would attend a fashion week as a couple and the attention always came with its own blend of nerves and excitement.

She reached for her purse, but before her hand could graze the leather strap, Lewis had already scooped it up, holding it casually in his free hand as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

He did it without thought, without hesitation—like it was instinct.

Outside the car, he stood tall, dressed impeccably in a tailored suit, his confidence and poise effortless, as always.

He extended his hand to her, the gesture so simple yet filled with quiet care. Y/n placed her hands in his, feeling the warmth of his palms as he helped her step out, guiding her gently. His touch steady, reassuring—a message that said, I’m here. I’ve got you.

As they began to walk toward the entrance, cameras continued to capture every step, but it was Lewis’ small, subtle actions that seemed to draw the most attention.

Y/n could hear whispers from the crowd, murmurs of admiration at how Lewis wasn’t afraid to carry her things, how comfortable they seemed in each other’s presence.

A fan shouted something playful about how lucky Lewis was, and Y/n couldn’t help but laugh under her breath, stealing a glance at him as they walked.

“You know, you’re going to set unrealistic standards for these guys” she teased lightly, her voice low so only he could hear.

He glanced at her a playful grin tugging at the corner of his lips. “They can keep up.”

But it wasn’t just the purse. As they neared the door, Lewis held onto her hand a beat longer, squeezing gently before letting go, just enough to remind her that he was by her side, not just as a partner but as someone who always had her back.

The way his fingers lingered on hers, the way his touch communicated support without the need for grand gestures—it was the kind of thing only those paying attention would notice.

It wasn’t until later, when they were inside the venue, mingling with the crowd and the night was in full swing, that Y/n realized just how much attention that small gesture had garnered.

Her phone buzzed in her purse—now safely back in her possession—and she saw her social media lighting up.

Photos of them stepping out of the car, Lewis holding her purse and helping her out, had spread like wildfire.

It was funny, really, how such a small, everyday act could spark so much conversation. But that was the beauty of it.

It was the quiet moments of care, the ones that others caught glimpses of, that truly showed the depth of their love.

And maybe the world had taken notice only tonight, but for Y/n, it was just another reminder of the kind of love they shared—the kind that lived in the small, supportive gestures that made all the difference.

A shared secret

The video started with the usual buzz of the garage during race weekend—mechanics working on the cars, team members hurrying around, and the faint hum of engines in the background.

The camera panning over the scene, capturing the lively chaos as the reporter filming moved between the crowd, searching for any interesting snippets.

And then Lewis and Y/n were spotted.

Standing close, slightly out of the way, their heads leaned in towards each other.

From the angle, it was clear that whatever they’re talking about was private.

An undeniable tension in the air around them. Didn’t look like an argument but something that made the space between them feel intense.

The reporter’s camera zoomed in. Their faces a bit blurred, but the body language spoke volumes.

Y/n’s arms were crossed loosely in front of her, and Lewis had one hand resting on the back of his neck, his expression serious as he listened.

Their conversation was low, and while the reporter couldn’t hear what they’re saying, it was clear they were focused entirely on each other.

The camera caught Y/n leaning in a little closer, saying something under her breath that made Lewis nod in response. It was one of those moments that looked important, but it was impossible to know exactly what was being said.

There was a flicker of understanding that passed between them, the kind of shared look that only comes when two people are on the same wavelength.

For a while they didn’t even notice the camera. But then, like a switch flipping, Y/n’s eyes dart toward the camera.

She spotted it first, her body tensing just slightly before she looked back at Lewis, who followed her gaze.

Lewis glanced over his shoulder, locking eyes with the camera for a split second. He said something quickly to Y/n, and the shift was palpable.

Whatever secret they were sharing, whatever private moment they were having, it was clear they didn’t want anyone else intruding on it.

Without any other word, they turned, Y/n subtly tugging at the sleeve of Lewis’s race suit as they moved towards the inside of the garage.

The camera followed them for as long as they could zoom, capturing how closely they walked side by side, their hands intertwining as they turned a corner.

The air between them was thick, and it was clear whatever they were discussing wasn’t over yet—it was just being moved somewhere out of sight.

As they disappeared into the garage, the camera lingered for a moment, catching some of the engineers also looking at them leave.

And before the screen cut to black a whisper could be heard on the video  “What was that about?”

______________________________________________________________

TAGLIST - @saturnssunflower @xoscar03 @chocolatediplomatdreamerzonk @itsmrshamilton @vicurious28

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@priopp123 @strqirlhrts @hmmmmm-01 @bisexual-babygirl-mj @bebesobrielo

If you’d like to be added to my taglist you can leave a comment or send me a dm/ask.

[okaysonny]

okkkayy, what if jake got his gf pregnant before marriage what would his mom’s reaction be + other big deal members 😶😶?? (love your fics btww!!!)

ACCIDENTAL PREGNANCY 😧 ╏ jake kim

a/n: unserious. and thanks anon!

you always use protection. plus, the pill is 99% effective at preventing this. and yet...

"...i'm pregnant"

★ jake stands there with a stupid look on his face because he's stupid.

★ to be honest, he doesn't want to bring a child into the world when he's leading big deal. jake wants to retire before even thinking about it. he loves you, but this isn't something he planned for.

★ has a serious discussion about the risks, making sure you understand the weight of the situation. still, he knows it's your choice in the end. once it's clear you want to keep the baby, jake respects your decision. he's the type to step up no matter what.

★ watches parenting videos at night while rubbing his temples.

★ tells minseon first 😬 this is the part that scares him the most.

★ his mom: pissed as hell 🤣

★ the second jake tells her, she puts out her cigarette with tight lips. he's already sweating.

"jake kim" "...yes, mother?" "are you telling me you got a girl pregnant before putting a ring on her finger?" "t-the thing is..." "like father, like son"

★ she’d ask all the hard questions: how are you going to raise a baby in this life? do you think this is fair to the child? are you ready for this kind of responsibility?

★ anddd i have a feeling that if you're from a 'normal' family, she'd have more reservations. not that minseon is classist, but y'know...

★ jake explains that you always did it safely, so the pregnancy wasn't from recklessness. he's aware of the risks, but it's your decision to keep the baby. he wants to step up and support you.

★ ...that does get her eyes to soften.

"well...in any case, i know you'll do a better job than your own father"

★ i think in canon right now, jake and his mother have a strained relationship. as far as we know, he only visits minseon when he needs something! 😅 + she resents that he supposedly hates his father...yet became a gangster like him and left her on her own...just like gapryong.

★ but minseon also knows that jake didn't inherit his womanizing side. she knows that he'll be a great father, even if he doesn't think so.

★ she may be tough, but deep down, she’s happy about a grandchild...even subtly offers to mind the baby if jake is too busy and you need a break.

★ she ends up cooking for you. the baby needs to be healthy.

now...he needs to tell big deal...

★ sinu would be so happy for jake. he cares about him like a younger brother, so once the initial shock settles, he’d smile and congratulate him properly.

but then it would hit him.

jake, who never seemed to care about relationships in the first place, is having a kid before him.

"god...yeonhui is gonna have a field day with this. you better start saving man. kids are expensive"

★ would yeonhui scare him as a joke? absolutely.

"sinu, what if i accidentally got pregnant? would you step up like jake?" "h-hold on..."

★ you already know jerry would do the absolute most 😭

★ immediately places a loyalty hand on jake's shoulder.

"boss…you’re going to be a father?" his voice is trembling, like jake just told him he's DYING. "i will lay down my life for this child. it is my duty as number 2" "jerry...i didn't even ask you to- are you crying?"

★ jerry starts researching baby vitamins + recommending parenting books. already thinking about making the child wear a tiny big deal jacket.

★ jason and brad feel like the same characters to me. i'm sorry. i guess jason is portrayed as more blunt and serious?

"jake...don't take this the wrong way, but i don't think you know anything about babies" "you don't think i know that, jason?"

★ the girls knit a baby blanket together :') and make one of those "we're so excited to meet you" videos.

★ jake would not half ass being a dad. he’d try his hardest to balance big deal and fatherhood, even though it won’t be easy. but the baby will be loved. from the parents, the girls and big deal.

bonus!

lineman leans back in his chair, surveying the small pile of cash on the table. "alright, i’m locking in my bet — it’s a boy"

lua scoffs. "nah, you’re wrong. it’s definitely a girl. and she’s gonna have him wrapped around her finger before she can talk"

lineman shakes his head. "a girl? we’d have to protect her from all the freaks in this city. a boy would be easier"

"a boy would be just as much trouble!" she rolls her eyes. "but imagine boss jake with a daughter. he’d be like, the ultimate girl dad"

"tch, we’ll see about that. alright, bets are at 50/50. let's see if anyone else wants to-"

"...guys" an all too familiar voice booms behind them.

lineman and lua turn to look at jerry like children caught with the cookie jar.

"you’re betting on boss jake’s child? his future offspring?" he shakes his head in disappointment. "this is incredibly inappropriate"

lineman and lua exchange a guilty glance.

lua has the courage to speak. "i mean…yeah, but—"

"shame on you two" jerry crosses his arms. "both of them deserve respect, not this gambling on their unborn child’s gender"

lineman suddenly has an idea. "so jerry...you must think it's a girl, right?"

jerry nods. "obviously. can't you see it? imagine her holding jake's pinkie with her tiny little hands"

lua smirks, catching lineman's drift as he discreetly slides a notepad to her. "so hypothetically...you'd place a bet on girl?"

he closes his eyes, lost in thought. "exactly. she’d teach him patience, unconditional love—"

lua nods, cutting him off as she jots notes down. "mhm. yeah. and how much are you putting down?"

jerry strokes his chin. "i'd say...30,000 won, easy-"

he blinks. "wait..."

jerry's jaw drops, the betrayal evident on his face. "you tricked me"

lineman grins, holding his hands up. "of course not. you just wanna see boss jake become a girl dad. that’s passion"

jerry opens his mouth to argue — then closes it. he shamefully places cash on the table.

"this stays between us" he whispers, glancing from side to side.

lua nods in satisfaction. "of course"

jason walks by, looking at the money on the table. "you guys are still on this? fine, put me down for a boy. 75,000 won"

˚⊱🪷⊰˚

jake blinks in disbelief when the truth gets exposed. "...you guys are betting? on my child?"

lineman, lua, and jason whistle, staring at the wall in fascination.

jake looks at jerry, expecting some shame.

jerry looks down, fiddling with his fingers. "...i was tricked"

divider: @thecutestgrotto

[shuenkio]

LoserXLover | 희승 헨.하.이.픈. (⁠⇀⁠‸⁠↼⁠‶⁠)⁠ᕗ💨

Paring: Loser!seung X M!reader

Genre: Smut Synopsis: Being such a brat he is, you decided to punish your boyfriend in a very edgy way. Cw: pure smut, cum undone, edging, freaky af, cursing, dirty talk.

English is not my 1st | This is a work of fanfiction, do not throw unnecessary tantrums on this nsfw/sfw blog. ©Shuenkio

A$N: from an anon request! This is probably my last update this month since next month who knows I'd be busy but I won't accept any requests sooner. Btw 'but' using alot here, ignore it 🥲 I'm having a mental breakdowns trying to make it perfect I'm suck still at writing smau.

Finished schedule for today's promotion is a relief that everything went smoothly yet there's something that has bothered you lately which you have bottled up for sometimes now. Despite being a sub-leader in the big group full of older boys at a young age, it is half bad and half good. The good parts were already doing great the nice ones while the bad part is they're grown boys.

You'd question your own self that it is worth it? In a frustrated good way of course. Not only are all of them a ball of chaotic energy but they're also clingy, teasing, if they'll tease you, all you need was a punching bag sand to Express your annoying. However it gets used to it till it becomes a habit and sort of like everyday shit. And that's not the case for nowadays. Heeseung the oldest hyung is getting on your nerves lately.

One was he accidentally made a small mistake during the finish part today on stage yeah that's forgiven but still driving you nuts as a perfectionist you are. Two, at the dorm, Heeseung would leave his ramen bowl without washing, dishes soaked in the sink for days unless you point it out. It's one of the hell rides having the same floor and dorm with him.

Not to mention Ni-ki says nothing about this as if he is not in the same dorm. Three, the gamer boy is getting out of hand. The nagging, the yelling, the reminding is just an air that went from one ear to another gosh how difficult can he become more. He's not a damn teenager but a 23 year old guy. Did he do all of these on purpose or is it just so unbelievable that you thought this was some kind of joke? Only god knows.

By doing all of the voices won't make him flinch anymore you'd have to come with some other punishment to make him won't repeat all of the childish behavior anymore that could leave him a bit traumatized, for some time in a very good~ way. What if he might love the idea more? Only to find out. Burst in his personal room, leaning against the door way as you are staring at the lazy guy who is on the bed, scrolling on his phone as if he didn't have a busy schedule the next day. Closing the door behind, as you make you way closer before sitting on the edge of his bed.

"Heeseung hyung? We need to talk!" Murmur in a serious tone yet so calmly, request for talking. But in return he just hums in response, rooting to the core as if his body is stuck on the bed which makes you have to control yourself from being violence.

"please sit up, before I change my mind" is another demand yet this time he did as he was told. Sitting up, resting his head on the headboard.

"yes? M/n What do you want to talk about?"

"about your behavior, not to be disrespectful but this is not how I wanted you to act hyung!, you're 23 not a toddler" You claim, explain in as calm a way as possible. However, it seems like it won't work on him ever.

"I am the way I am m/n what are you... Talking about? I know I'm the oldest but I don't act like a child you say, don't just come up like that" Heeseung response, his tone is slightly offensive to your words but that makes him look even more stubborn. How can he even let those slip out. Anger boil almost explodes, trying to maintain your compose while explaining how many things about him that bother you a lot as a sub/co leader that left Heeseung dumbfounded.

But that won't last long when he just ignores the fact, carry on acting like a brat once you finish talking. This is getting out of hand, you force yourself to give him one last chance before a disaster would occur.

"what are you gonna do about me then? I'll like how I am right now, leave my room you're such a headache for me m/n, hyung need alone time" Scoff is all what left your sweet mouth, this is so irritated it's like telling a siblings to go bed time but they denying. What's more irritated? The fact he was your loser boyfriend makes it worse. Heeseung turned away and sat on his desk, opening his computer to play some games. Would you let that happen? Not this time. Stroking away your hair in boil pointed before locking the door tight, making your way to your boyfriend.

This might be the first time you've had to punish your brat lover. Seeing the sock scatter on the floor, you come up with an idea, if you can't punish him emotionally, how about physically? Smirking, like the idea so much. Before Heeseung could wear his headphones on, his gamer chair turned around by your grips. Slightly starlet the next thing he knows, both of his hands are tied up by his own socks. A very lovely sight to see such submissiveness. Yelping, confused running through his head to your new side, he can't help but to be afraid one bit, asked.

"m/n?? What are you doing? Untied me now, this is not funny.." speak in a shaky voice, as he sees your unusual attitude. Meanwhile deep down inside of him, he knows what's going to come for him. Somehow he liked it? Or he just pretends to drive you nuts so he could get this attention of yours?

"You're never gonna like it, and I won't stop until you reflect your own shitty behavior, hyung!" Waste no more time, your body lean close to him as your naughty finger sneaking on his crotch. Fiddle on his pants, around in a circling, teasing to make it rocket hard as you planning to make him so hard, so dry until he begged oh wait, why don't you make him edge? Those feelings are the worst haha.Heeseung squirmed under your touch, in a trembling breath. he was expecting this but This just feels so different, the idea of you would stroking him only to make his soft dick hurt from the tight fabric. And the fact he didn't stop you makes sense that he was waiting for this. Biting on his lower lip he stays quiet, silently enjoying your touch on his meat. He wanted to please you so badly, to make you touch him even more than this, not only to play but to make use of it.

Realized Heeseung is actually enjoying this, making you angry even more, he can't enjoy this, you need to make it hard for him to ever even feel good. In another one swift move, you unzip his pant, let it spring free out a twitching, huge hard throbbing dick that is leaking already. Such a good start,a clean cut tip free is so arousing to look at, and abuse it.

"p- please i... It kinda hurts you have to finish it m/n, y.. you're the one who started this" pleasing, his hand are tied up, it reasonable that he wanted you to finished it up as he leaking so much already ehh those transparent sticky stuff on his head.

"No, let me hear something else. Where is the brat gone hmm? I don't see any"

"but—m/n I'm not in the wrong, I'm just being myself everyday like how my routine, what do you expect from me?" He fired back, getting real pain in the ass . How brave he is to spit those out. Snort out loudly that click heeseung in the head that, he did it for himself just now, he'll be in big trouble.

"you're getting brave for real now hyung I think I might pee myself from it, but I think hmm oh well, you seriously push my buttons" Before hee can react, you hand wrapped on his shaft tightly, stroking him so fast that makes his head spinning to the weirdly speed pace. He moaned shamelessly, filled in the small space with his vocal like he was on the edge to see heaven. His stretchy hairy balls jiggle each movement you jerk him off , making a raw plopping sound mixed with pain and pleasure without liquid. Your bf's chest becomes more hitching and breathless, he wanted to scream so bad in high pitch but he couldn't, afraid the other who was in the same dorm might hear.

He knows and you know he can't do anything but to beg for your mercy. Instead It's the opposite of what you expected, you thought you'd hear him begging, whining, for mercy to stop but he was actually asking for more, and he really wanted to release it off, so impatiently. Knowing his weak spot, what are you waiting for? Masturbating his dick harder, in another brutal speed that left his eye nothing but a white eyes ball. His brain malfunctioned, feeling senseless at the moment. A few more strokes later, Heeseung started to feel jolted as his body signal he'd cum at anytime unpredicted soon.

"H- holy motherfucking shit m/n— I...I'm about to cum please... please I wanted to cum c...can I?" Hearing him beg for mercy and being so submissive for the first time make your body goosebumps, thrilling wash over as you actually found him adorable in this state or did they call that a... Kink? A new discovery kink? No way, you need to see more of this. You want more whimpers from him, making him beg, and submissive ugh so fucking turn on.

Enough with the thinking, his body soon shaking in a sign of soon to explode and your plan was to edge him off, what would he react to if you did it? Isn't it going to be fun??

"Ah...ohh... Fuck m/n I'm cumming I'm cumming I'm CUMIN— NO" he yelled it out, to be come undone but before he can cum you quickly pull your hand away for a good seconds which make him going nut on the spot, finally his body shattered undone in a half satisfied, splashing all his hot sperms on his own sweatpants. His body odor perfume all over the room, the scent of his cum, smells like cow milk, that's crazy. And Nor did he be mad or sad, his expression is clearly he's not satisfied with your action. However at least he did cum.

"why... Why did you do that? For what for??M/N?"

"This is your first punishment, you should remember this from now on. If you continue to act so stubborn again, I bet there's more evil punishment for my loser boyfriend and not just edging you— do you get it?hm?"

"y...yes my.. love I'll be a good boy.. and your good boyfriend I...I'm sorry I'll be better" he was scared ...

"that's what I love about you— very demure very lovely very good boy"

[ghost-proofbaby]

a simple life (e.m.)

summary: you try to clean your depression room while eddie's over, but he keeps distracting you.

warnings: none except mentions of a dirty room and panties. also... a lot of nicknames. womp womp. not edited.

pairing: eddie munson x gn!reader

wc: 1.4k+

a/n: just a little sweet something i wrote thinkin' about eddie while i took on the task of finally cleaning my depression room after a few months of putting it off. idk. this is boring. i'm sorry.

“Where did you even get this postcard?”

“Eddie.”

“Or what about this choker? Is that a bat? It’s a- oh my God, babe. Why don’t you ever wear this? This is hot.”

Originally, you had thought it was a good idea. Invite Eddie over, allow the body-doubling tactic to work its magic, and voila – you’d finally have the clean room you’d been talking about achieving for weeks now, within a few hours. 

“Baby,” you scold, trying to reach across the bed to snatch the necklace he’d found out of his hands. It proves to be difficult, a small pile of laundry you’d been folding hindering you. 

“Sweetheart,” he mimics right back, quick to hold the necklace out of your reach, as if you were anyone near from stealing it back from him. 

“I asked you to come over to help me, not distract me,” you sigh, crossing your arms and trying to look as pitiful as possible. When you’d first invited him over, you’d assured him that he needn’t lift a single finger. You didn’t want him here to help by aiding in throwing away any of the trash that had begun to litter your desk or taking any dirty plates to the kitchen. No, the intention had been him helping with his mere presence – quiet presence. He was supposed to be working on a new campaign for Hellfire, not being so damn nosey and going through the few items you’d tossed onto the bed from the floor, “I just recently bought that necklace, I haven’t had a chance to wear it.”

His eyes light up mischievously, a small grin tugging at his lips, “Why not wear it now, then? Perfect opportunity, yeah?” 

“I’m not fulfilling any slutty maid fantasies you have, Eddie.” 

“What if I say please?” 

You huff and decide to give up the fight about the necklace, returning back to the laundry before you. You were almost done. You were almost done after a full day of cleaning. If your adorably curious boyfriend would just stop picking at your belongings, you’d probably be able to finish within the hour. 

He stands from the small space on your bed he had made for himself, a nest of sorts that he had taken from simply curling up into for a ‘nap’ (which never happened’ to sitting up as he had just been as he clearly grew more bored with each passing moment. “Want some help with folding?” 

“You just want an excuse to get your grubby hands on my underwear,” you grumble, folding a shirt with slightly more vigor to emphasize your point.

You’re right, of course. The first article of clothing he grabs is a pair of lacy black panties. 

“Guilty,” he coos jokingly, but to your surprise, he actually folds the lingerie. Neatly, at that. With careful hands, he folds it even nicer than you would have in your haste, going as far as walking to your dresser and putting it away into the correct drawer. And then, he takes it a step further, and begins to put away the other clothing you’d already neatly wrapped up, suddenly depleting the mountain of laundry by half, “You know, I don’t mind helping you clean.”

“I already told you, you’re helping by bein-” you start to protest, hands grabbing at a random jean leg but not quite yanking it from the pile. 

He’s quick to interrupt you, taking that pair of jeans right from you, “I don’t want to just lay there while you do all the work, contrary to all the sources that say men enjoy that.”

His face isn’t quite as taunting as it had been moments before. Some of the joking has vanished, replaced by something more serious yet somehow softer. The jeans are slung over his arms, neatly halved twice before he sets them to the side and looks at you. 

Your shame is palpable, though. You’d just gotten over the embarrassment of having him over when your room would get this filthy. Disastrous in the worst of ways. Dirty clothes strewn everywhere, plates left for days on any surface you could find in your laziness, coke cans and random trash littering the floor. It was embarrassing. You know he had promised to love you through the good and the ugly, but this was far uglier than he could have ever imagined signing up for. 

It was bad enough to have him see it, let alone clean it. 

“It’s embarrassing,” you finally say quietly. His head tilts, so adorable it tugs at all your heart strings, and you take it as your queue to continue in a near whisper, “It’s gross - I’m gross.” 

“Sweetheart, have you even seen my room?” he scoffs. He’s quick to shove some of the clean clothes up into a pile just enough that he can take a seat at the corner of your bed, quickly reaching out to grab your hands and guide you between his spread legs, “Shit happens. Life gets stressful, work gets busy, sometimes we just don’t feel like cleaning up. Shit happens,” his thumb is sweeping soothingly over your knuckles, clearing the impending storm you hadn’t even been aware of. Maybe he hadn’t either – a naturally caring and comforting aura has always been his thing rather than yours, “Out of everyone in this world, I am the least qualified to judge you.” 

You don’t really understand it. How he can sit there, looking up at you so dreamily when the two of you are situated in the middle of your still unkempt room, your neck still chilled with a layer of sweat and your hair tumbling out of the bun you hadn’t properly secured. But he is. He’s looking at you not as if he doesn’t see the mess, both of the room and of yourself, but as if he does and simply doesn’t care. 

“Besides,” his lips are splitting with another grin, his hands squeezing your hands three times, “It’s kind of domestic. ‘M kind of into it.” 

“Me? Doing laundry?” you snort, blinking away any fears that had crept up. It’s hard to feel inadequate with his eyes on you, spilling so many sweet nothings like it’s just another casual Tuesday conversation and not the fuel to your beating heart, “Didn’t you just say you don’t want to just sit and-”

“Us,” he cuts you off in correction, “Us doing laundry.”

“You… like the thought of doing laundry with me?” you say slowly, carefully, unsure of the words as they fall from your lips. 

Doing laundry sounded like the least romantic thing the two of you could ever partake in. 

“I like the thought of doing laundry with you,” he repeats with a nod, “I like the thought of doing laundry with you, of doing dishes together after we just made the world's most mediocre dinner ever, of you complaining when I won’t get up so you can make the bed on the weekend,” he tugs you even closer. You have no choice but to let a knee fall to each side of his hips, straddling his lap as he wraps his arms around you and he leans forward to press a chaste kiss to one of your collar bones, “Call me cheesy. I like the thought of a simple life, but only if it’s with you.” 

Something warms inside of you. The thought of a life of simplicity, of lazy mornings and boring afternoons, all brightened up by the boy in front of you. A boy who creates magical worlds with his words on a weekly basis, a boy obsessed with fantasy novels and all things adventurous, who wants his greatest life adventure to just be a mundane lifetime with you. 

You can imagine it would be anything but mundane with Eddie, but the tranquility still exists and blankets the two of you. 

You lift a hand, carding it through his scalp, careful not to let your fingers snag on his messy curls, “Does this mean you’ll do your taxes with me next week?” 

With a quick snort, he buries his face into your chest, shaking his head furiously, “Don’t push it, sweetheart.” 

You know he will, though. He’ll help you fold the laundry, he’ll help you wash the dishes, and he’ll certainly sit through the dreadful hours of doing taxes if they’re spent with you. 

A few beats of silence. His arms have wrapped just right so that his warm palm presses into your lower back, the other hand tracing a mindless circle over your shirt a few inches higher. Your breathing matches his, fingers rubbing a matching pattern into his scalp that has him humming periodically.

The laundry will get done eventually, but it can wait. For now, you just want to hold your boy, and let him hold you. 

“It’s a date,” he finally gives in, voice muffled, making you smile widely, “I’ll light candles and everything, sweetheart.”

eddie's taglist: @capricornrisingsstuff @thisisktrying @hideoutside @vol2eddie @corrcdedcoffin @ches-86 @alovesongtheywrote @its-not-rain @feralchaospixie @cheesypuffkins87 @thebook-hobbit @babez-a-licious @eddies-acousticguitar @aysheashea @kellsck @cosmorant @billyhvrgrove-main @micheledawn1975 @eddiesxangel @siriuslysmoking @witchwolflea @tlclick73 @magicalchocolatecheesecake @mizzfizz @nanaminswhore @mikiepeach @ali-r3n @hawkebuckley @alwaysbeenfamous @darkyuffie-blog @vintagehellfire @lilmisssiren @elvendria @loveryanax @stylexrepp @princessstolas @fangirling-4-ever @eddiesguitarskills @babez-a-licious @josephquinnsfreckles

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Bowen McCurdy and Jordan Morris’s “Youth Group”

NEXT SATURDAY (July 20), I'm appearing in CHICAGO at Exile in Bookville.

Youth Group is Bowen McCurdy and Jordan Morris's new and delightful graphic novel from Firstsecond. It's a charming tale of 1990s ennui, cringe Sunday School – and demon hunting.

https://us.macmillan.com/books/9781250789235/youthgroup

Kay is a bitter, cynical teenager who's doing her best to help her mother cope with an ugly divorce that has seen her dad check out on his former family. Mom is going back to church, and she talks Kay into coming along with her to attend the church youth group.

This is set in the 1990s, and the word "cringe" hasn't yet entered our lexicon as an adjective, but boy is the youth group cringe. The pastor is a guitar-strumming bearded dad who demonstrates how down he is with the kids by singing top 40 songs rewritten with evangelical lyrics (think Weird Al meets the 700 Club). Kay gamely struggles through a session and even makes a friend or two, and agrees to keep attending in deference to her mother's pleas.

But this is no ordinary youth group. Kay's ultra-boring suburban hometown is actually infested with demons who routinely possess the townspeople, and that baseline of demonic activity has suddenly gone critical, with a new wave of possessions. Suddenly, the possessed are everywhere – even Kay's shitty dad ends up with a demon inside of him.

That's when Kay discovers that the youth group and its corny pastor are also demon hunters par excellence. Their rec-rooms sport secret cubbies filled with holy weapons, and the words of exorcism come as readily to them as any embarrassing rewritten devotional pop song. Kay's discovery of this secret world convinces her that youth group isn't so bad after all, and soon she is initiated into its mysteries, including the existence of rival demon-hunting kids from the local synagogue, Catholic church, and Wiccan coven.

As the nature of the new demonic incursion becomes clearer, it falls on Kay and her pals to overcome these sectarian divisions over the protests of their guitar-strumming, magic-wielding leader. That takes on a special urgency when Kay learns why the demons are interested in her, personally, and a handful of other kids in town who all share a secret trait.

I confess that as someone who lived through the 1990s as a young man, there is something disorienting about experiencing the decade of my young adulthood through the kind of retro lens I associate with the 1950s or 1960s. But while the experience is disorienting, it's not unpleasant. McCurdy's artwork and Morris's snappy dialog conjure up that bygone decade in a way that is simultaneously affectionate and critical, exposing the hollowness of its performative ennui and the brave face that performance represented even as the world was being swept up in corporate gigantism.

McCurdy and Morris are really onto something here, implicitly asking us why the 1990s gave us Buffy and Sabrina (and The Coven, etc etc) – what was it about that decade in which Reaganomics and globalism consolidated the gains of the 1980s, where the climate emergency took on its undeniable urgency, where media monopolies mastered the art of commodifying counterculture faster than it could mutate into new forms?

Morris's writing really shines here. If you enjoyed Bubble, his earlier outing based on the post-apocalyptic comedy podcast of the same name, you will love this one:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/08/21/podcasting-as-a-visual-medium/#huntr

Morris is also half of Jordan, Jesse Go!, the long-running podcast where he and Jesse Thorn do a weekly ha-ha-only-serious goofball schtick that never fails to smuggle in really clever and insightful ideas amidst the poop jokes.

https://maximumfun.org/podcasts/jordan-jesse-go/

John Hodgman calls nostalgia a "toxic impulse." Church Group deftly avoids nostalgia's trap, managing to be a period piece without falling prey to the Happy Days pathology of ignoring the many flaws and problems of its era. And of course, it's a hoot and a blast.

Support me this summer on the Clarion Write-A-Thon and help raise money for the Clarion Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers' Workshop!

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/06/16/blight/#the-dream-of-the-nineties

[mud-castle]

Was thinking about Maine Coon Firestar last night and just had the image of him playing with the kits when a queen, just trying to be friendly, asks how old he is. It was meant to be a joke, like "you're a little small for an apprentice, how old actually are you?" in a teasing way, but then he - not knowing the rules yet - very honestly and proudly says he's three and a half moons old. There's some confusion before the queen realises he's completely serious and this suddenly explains everything.

He gets asked by another queen and the elders. All of them come to the same horrifying conclusion that this apprentice is a baby oh fuck

So after some discussion, Bluestar suddenly has every queen, some former queens and every elder in front of her, complaining and trying to get her to realise she's training a toddler to kill. The most confusing day of her life honestly how did all these cats fit in her den

Bluestar, talking to Firepaw, realises he's absolutely lying through his panicked teeth when he says he's six and a half moons and definitely not three and a half. Well shit. What is she even supposed to do here? Un-apprentice him? Promote him to the name -kit? Just let him keep training but don't send him to battle?

I thought it would be kind of funny if they had to invent a whole ass new type of apprenticeship specifically for this situation. He's still an apprentice, but he will be 'mentored' by the queens in the nursery (cared for properly) and by the elders. It's his duty to help out around camp and learn what he can from the elders and queens, with Bluestar still being a involved, but less so. The elders give him tips and tricks for hunting and tell him every story they know, the queens mostly take care of him and he might get to go on herb gathering trips if he's lucky.

They just invent an early apprenticeship role for kits that mature a bit quickly or need something to keep themselves occupied specifically for him. I don't know if they'd ever use it again, maybe for four and a half moon old kits, but it's just funny to me they had to scramble to find a way to be reasonable adults in the situation whilst also not breaking his heart about not being old enough for an apprenticeship yet

Kid's gonna be so good at making comfy beds and knowing every piece of clan history possible by the time he's six moons mark his words. Boy got adopted by everyone and they had no say in the matter lmao

That would be really cute. A sort of pre-apprenticeship to keep older kits busy when they're old enough to be feeling agitated by being in the nursery all the time, but too young to be apprenticed.

Lol, the image of Firepaw smiling with a missing tooth and proudly saying that he's three and a half moons old. Same vibe as a little kid going "I'm this many years!" And holding up three fingers.

It would also be really funny if after all this Firepaw still managed to get in the exact same amount of trouble he would've as a normal apprentice. The whole clan is in a panic when he's missing from camp one day and he comes back with a banished medicine cat he found and fed (who taught him how to catch rabbits???)

The other clans probably think Thunderclan is irresponsible but no it's just this one child who has more trouble making ability than all the other apprentices combined.

[beautyconsumer]

(I see you've redone your blog again) but anyway JayGrant is sooooo the friends that make a marriage pact as kids. And Jason thinks it's a joke but Grant is SO serious. 20 years later Grant breaks into Jason's apartment and is like "so I've noticed you're not yet wed-" and Jason is like "I THOUGHT YOU WERE FUCKING DEAD WHAT THE FUCK!" And Grant is like "Irrelevant. I need you to update your hand measurements to get the ring resized."

I did! I want it to represent what's going on on this little corner of Tumblr of mine hehe thanks for noticing!

Also!!! ASASGDJFG "I need you to update your hand measurements to get the ring resized." Meaning he already has a ring and has been constantly measuring Jason's hand throughout their childhood/teenage years, lmaoo I imagine Jason sitting there while Grant measures his hand going "lol you still on that?" While Grant very much is.

Jason being pulled the uno reverse card for once and being in the other end of "I THOUGHT YOU WERE FUCKING DEAD WHAT THE FUCK!" is so freaking funny.

Jason is still reeling on the fact that Grant came back at all, cause he had given hope he would. Jason sees his own resurrection as a curse so seeing Grant reviving gives him a new perspective and of course Grant goes, "We're soulmates, actually."

And Jason kind of believes him. Wants to believe him too.

Jason is —other than surprised Grant came back at all— is like "You meant it???"

Because he's on board, HEAVILY so, because he gets to marry the first crush he ever had, the very hetero guy who would mess around for shits and giggles, and make him flustered and red faced every time he'd throw hypotheticals at him: "I would treat you better than anyone else", "If you married me we'd never spend our nights sleeping"

All of this is especially funny immediately after Grant's resurrection, because Grant is fully convinced he came back for that one reason (it's actually way deeper than that but his obsessive streak is not gonna wind down for a while.)

Grant goes over the top with everything, the ring, the weeding, the preparations, his rich kid upbringing along his entitlement and hedonistic nature (that only amplified when he came back from dead) makes him a nightmare for anyone who gets on his way of making the Wedding anything less than perfect. This also goes along with me headcanoning him as a perfectionist (having your parents criticizing your shit since ever will do that to ya) bridezilla Grant says who lmao

And if we're going with the family dynamics...

Adeline Kane clutches her chest and almost has a heart attack because she finds out her son is alive Through a freaking Weeding Invitation.

Joey as well and his brain is balancing from wanting to beat the shit out his brother for making them go through this to go hug him and demand to be his best man.

Respawn, Alex, Rose and Wintergreen are invited as well, if only to cement the fact that Slade is very much not invited. He still shows up, though.

Jade is the bridesmaid, or best woman, or however it is. Grant shows up one day and is like "Bitch I'm getting married, you're the bridesmaid," she sighs, looks at his choice of a husband, sighs even more heavily and then they go shopping for the wedding.

The batfam on the other hand, Bruce and Dick are the ones who are having the hardest time.

Bruce is happy at first that Jason is settling and getting married, but then—

"Married to who?!"

Dick is sweating bullets, "Jason, you're still young, you don't have to settle for this one just yet!"

"No, I gotta."

Babs walks him through acceptance. When he recovers he drops Jason hints (as in, big passive aggressive hints) of him being the best man.

Jason lets him in tension for a while, at least until he decides who's gonna be the best man because he's not the first one to not-ask.

Meanwhile Steph and Tim pipe in, "can we plan your bachelor party?"

Damian is happy he gets to spend time and meet his half brother's family, (Respawn) and Jason will be there too I guess.

Jason is very much shoving in their faces, "I'm getting married before any of you losers."

Talia and Harvey are invited as well much to Bruce's dismay.

Bruce gets surprisingly along and is very supportive with Grant while he's in one of his bridezilla episodes because yes, Grant is right: Jason’s wedding deserves the best of the best.

Grant gets very intense about it too, hence, mark Jason down as scared and horny.

Slade, on the other hand, gets whiplash because Addie was just like that on their wedding.

[reveryfics]

Hi! I hope you had a good new year.

Could you write something about Bucky x bottom male reader?

Mreader is injured on a mission to protect Bucky and Bucky realizes Mreader is more than a co-worker.

Totally cheesy☆*:.｡.o(≧▽≦)o.｡.:*☆

Aftermath

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Male reader

Summary: Bucky confesses his feelings after a recent mission that left you injured.

A/n: I have some drafts I'm working on, I also deeply apologize for the inconsistent posts. Can't express how happy I get when you guys request some of my favorite characters.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

The world exploded into a symphony of screams and crumbling concrete. Bucky, his metal arm a useless anchor against the force, was thrown like a ragdoll. Desperation clawed at his throat as he reached for his teammate, a figure silhouetted against the inferno. His fingers barely brushed against the leather strap of the other man's chest harness before he was flung into the abyss.

Their eyes met for a fleeting, agonizing moment. Terror, raw and primal, mirrored in the other man's gaze. Bucky cursed himself, the echo of his teammate's warnings ringing in his ears. If he hadn't barged in, hadn't ignored the warnings, this wouldn't have happened. The other man wouldn't be dangling precariously, his shoulder dislocated, ribs likely shattered, all because Bucky had been reckless.

Bucky strained against the wind, his metal arm digging into the crumbling support beam, trying to haul the other man to safety. But it was futile. The weight, the distance, the searing pain in his own battered body – it was too much.

"Let go, Bucky!" The words were a desperate plea, laced with fear. He knew the chances of survival were slim, the frigid water below a potential death sentence. "Let go!" he roared, the sound swallowed by the chaos.

Bucky hesitated, his gaze flickering between the terrified face below him and the churning depths. His fingers, trembling with exhaustion and fear, slowly loosened their grip. "Shit, shit!" he choked out, the word swallowed by the wind. He watched in horror as his teammate plummeted into the abyss, disappearing beneath the swirling debris.

The icy water enveloped him, a suffocating embrace. Pain, a searing, agonizing fire, erupted throughout his body. He thrashed, desperate to reach the surface, but his limbs felt heavy, leaden. The last image seared into his memory was the swirling water, the debris raining down around him, and then… nothing.

Days blurred into an agonizing haze. Bucky paced the sterile confines of the hospital room, a caged animal. Steve had tried to coax him away, to remind him that rest was crucial, that the doctors would call when his teammate woke up. But Bucky couldn't leave. The image of those terrified eyes, the echo of that desperate plea, haunted him relentlessly.

Then, a plastic cup sailed through the air, interrupting his tormented thoughts. He looked up to see his teammate, eyes half-lidded, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips.

"Thought super soldiers didn't cry," he teased, a hint of pain in his voice. "Miss me, big guy?"

Tears welled up in Bucky's eyes. He gently pulled himself onto the bed, careful not to jar his teammate's injuries. "You're joking right now?" he choked out, burying his face in the other man's chest.

A hand, surprisingly strong, slipped into his hair. "Can't always be serious, Bucky," he murmured.

They stayed like that for a long time, Bucky clinging to his teammate, apologizing profusely. "I'm so sorry," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "I was reckless, I didn't listen… I almost lost you." Bucky cried. “I love you.”

It took a moment for the words to sink in. Then, a slow smile spread across the other man's face. "I love you too, Bucky."

The words were simple, yet they held the weight of a lifetime. Bucky, finally able to breathe, held him tighter, the fear and guilt that had consumed him beginning to slowly recede. He had almost lost him, but he had him back.