#it’s supposed to say im not gonna but the not is blurred out

[eviltext]

“we swear we’re not blowing you off, we just can’t go these days, i swear we really want to” . bitch this is the third time at this point. whatver. im gonna tell you i believe youbbut i stg if i ever reach out to u myself again im gonna kill myself

[rafeandonlyrafe]

talk to me

words: 800

warnings: addiction, breaking sobriety, drinking/doing drugs, established relationship

taglist: @drewstarkeysbae @thelomlisrafecameron @f4ll-for-you @dilvcv @winterrrnight @slut4drudy @drewsbabygirll @jjmaybankswifes-blog @rafescokenostril @jjsmarijuana @jjmaybankisbae @seeingstarks @angelofcigs @cece45450

you can tell from the moment you pick up the phone that something is wrong. rafe’s breathing is so loud that it’s being picked up, coming through your phone speaker.

“rafe, baby?” you ask, but all you here is his panting in response.

“rafe, talk to me. what’s wrong?”

“i’m sorry.” rafes voice is gruff, it sounds like he’s been screaming. 

“sorry? sorry for what rafe? tell me whats wrong.” you plead, feeling tears form in your eyes. you hate being away from rafe, you know that he hates it even more than you, especially now that he’s sober. he used to just get drunk or high the entire time until you were back, but you hated coming back to a strung out rafe, and you knew it wasn’t healthy.

“i’ve been drinking.” rafe says, and you hear the slight slur in his words.

“rafe-” you stand up, already beginning to pack. you don’t need to hear anything else. you know drinking isn’t the worst thing, but for rafe, the drinking will only ever lead to drugs, and he’s been clean for so long “i’m coming home baby. where are you?”

“our house.” he says, and you hear him fumbling with something in the background, and then a crash. it sounds like glass breaking.

“rafey baby, can you go lay down in bed, yeah?” you ask, grabbing your purse and suitcase. you’d text your girlfriends from the car on the way back home to rafe. you thought that he was good enough for you to go on a spa weekend away with the girls. you made sure it was one that was less than an hour away that way you could get home quickly.

“i’m gonna go sit outside.” “okay, i’m heading to the car right now.” you were supposed to head home in the morning anyways, so you have no issue leaving the night before, knowing your girlfriends won’t mind.

“talk to me.” you say as you get in your car, starting it up. “talk to me, rafey.” “i went to the store. i bought whiskey. i fucked up baby, i know that.” “it’s okay, honey.” you swing your car onto the highway, glad that theres no cars so you can speed, praying no cops are sitting hidden.

“and now i’m making you come home because i can’t fucking do it. god, i’m the worst boyfriend.” “not at all, rafey. you make me feel so loved. you take care of me. that’s what you’re meant to do as my boyfriend and that’s what i’m doing for you as your girlfriend. i’m taking care of you.” “i’m so tired.” rafe says. “i just want to do a bump.” “rafe, keep talking.” you say, tears blurring your vision. “i’m coming home to you right now, stay strong for me okay.”

you get rafe to continue talking as you drive home, going at least 20 miles over the speed limit the entire way. you haphazardly park when you get back home, running through the house to find rafe on the balcony. 

“i’m home.” you kneel down in front of him, heart breaking at how spaced out he looks. “i’m home, rafe.” rafe lets out a choked sob, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and pitching forward. you shush him gently as he cries, rubbing your hand up and down his back.

“lets go to bed, yeah?” you ask after a moment.

“i hate myself.” rafe mumbles, but accepts your help standing up. you guide him inside, not even worried about shutting the doors behind you, just focused on getting him upstairs and in bed.

“you have to break up with me.” rafe says, feet slowly shuffling down the hallway. “im going to ruin your life-” you ignore his words, blocking out whatever he was saying as you steer him into your bedroom.

“rafe, stop please.” you cut him off from continuing to speak. “i’m not going anywhere. we can talk in the morning when you have a clearer head, okay?”

rafe nods, leaning forward and pressing his lips to your forehead. “i’m so glad you’re home.” “me too.” you press your face into his chest before pulling away to tug the blankets down, watching as rafe flops down, his head immediately lolling to the side. you sit down on the bed, stroking over his hair as you watch for his breathing to change, only standing up when you are sure that he is asleep.

you gather everything on your bedside table that rafe will need in the morning, finishing it off with a tall glass of water. you’ve learned from his previous binges what he needs, you’re just relieved all he did this time was drink.

you finally get to climb into bed, sighing deeply as your head hits the pillow. you move closer to rafe until your body is pressed up against his.

rafe mumbles something you can’t make out and turns, resting his head against your chest. you smile and wrap your arms around him, holding him close, knowing this is what he needs at this moment.

“i love you.” rafe whispers.

“i love you too.” you press a kiss to the top of his head. “i love you and i’m gonna be here for you no matter what, don’t you forget that.”

[love-byers]

so as hard as it may be to believe, i was a mileven shipper right up until just before vol 2 of s4 came out. not hardcore twitter mileven, but a shipper nonetheless. i did love will and mike's relationship, maybe even more than mileven, but i never clocked it as romantic. i vividly remember thinking "aww, will and mike would be so cute together but they would never let that happen." and never thought about it again. even when i saw the rain fight and heard "it's not my fault you don't like girls" i was like "ohh wow so will is probably gay" and didn't even think he was in love with mike. i didn't believe that until the s4 trailer said "i think there is someone he likes" and of course, this was because of my own heteronormativity. i dismissed everything i saw and didn't even look for hints because the idea that the writers would allow a gay relationship between two main characters was not even a thought in my head. once i dropped that and started to trust that the writers actually cared and did want queer characters/storylines, everything made sense.

so i went into s4 thinking mileven were gonna be fine and that will was sad and hopelessly in love with mike. i mean fully believing it. so im mindlessly watching s4 e2 and thinking "aww poor will mike is so in love with el he can't pay attention to will" no questions asked.

then the fight happened. when mike blew up and said "you were! you were! you were rolling your eyes, you were moping, you were barely talking you basically sabotaged the whole day" i was like " how do you know that" but still, i dismissed it and barely thought about it.

then it happened. "we're friends! we're. friends." all the alarm bells went off. red flags flew up. my eyebrows furrowed. "ummm what mike? he didn't say you were more than friends. why is he viewing this romantically and why is he being so defensive???"

i was so deep into believing the writers would never let the gay romance happen, but that just couldn't get past me. there's no other way that line can be interpreted. that's a trope that means one thing and one thing only.

my next thought was "ok, this is gonna be like the rain fight. will is gonna be really hurt by this and go silent."

but nope, will claps back with "well we used to be best friends!" and i was stunned. utterly stunned. what is going on here? what is this dynamic? and why is mike more worried about this than finding el? why did he care enough to completely stop walking so he couple blow up at will for not talking?? but still, i was somehow able to let this go. because the writers just wouldn't do that. would they?

the mileven fight happens and i've never wanted to backhand a teenager more in my entire life. i'm reminded of stancy and their whole "i love you" thing

then THIS happened, and i was thinking more and more that mike doesn't love el romantically. look at his face when will says "whatever you didn't say you can say it to her then". will starts talking but the camera stays focused on mike and will remains blurred. we're supposed to be taking in mikes reaction. he says yes, but frowns and blinks rapidly. will was trying to reassure him, but mike has not been reassured. i don't know how to describe the emotion on his face. it's like you just had a chance to clear up your lie, but you still didn't, and now you're back to thinking about the moment your lie will blow up in your face. it's like his face is saying, "no, i can't just say it to her then because i don't want to."

the scene where they talk on top of the car is what started to make me think mike doesn't love el romantically. his reaction to will saying "it's scary, to say how you really feel. especially to people you care about the most. because..what if they don't like the truth?" he nodded. he felt seen. i remember thinking "ooooh. he doesn't love her and he knows she won't like that" everything made sense. if we apply mike's monologue logic to this, it makes no sense. whatever it is that mike is feeling, he thinks el won't like it. then he supposedly decides that the moment to tell her that is when she's dying?

mike is lying. he was holding back saying how he feels because he knows el won't like it. then when she's dying, he suddenly thinks his feelings are what she wants enough that it'll save her life? whatever he was feeling on top of the car and what he tells her in the monologue are not the same. you don't tell someone something they won't like when they're dying.

and 2 years ago i came to this conclusion without an ounce me believing byler could be canon.

[vinestaffery]

Scythe X cop or detective reader where Scythe kidnaps reader to join her cult or somthing

of course!! im a bit tired atm and my schedule bursted up again, so the other people that have requested, i will be taking a bit of a while to post them fully, but i promise i am working on them!! sadly this is gonna have to be a drabble, im so sorry </3

Characters: Scythe, GN! Reader Prompt: One-sided Romance I think???, Small Drabble Warnings: Usage of (pet) names; Mentions of murder; Slightly descriptive but vague of how Scythe killed civilians; Religious themes; Kidnapping; Drugging; Scythe being a literal serial killer; Indoctrination(?)

Days were never suppose to be this harsh. You were always looking for new angles for the strange disappearances of many civilians in Lost Temple, yet it seemed like every new case was to mock your work.

Someone was watching you, for all you know.

Days were becoming longer, more dissociative then regular. Someone was watching you, you could feel it. It was like being played with like prey, if anything, a piece of meat in the claws of a carnivore.

But, it didn't let you shoot you down off your pedestals. You still, somehow, no matter what found a way to link to your suspects. White, gold and teal clothing, and the way the victims were left.

Cut, bloodied and garnished. Ripped apart in one slick-move, a slice. Head, shaven off of it's horns before being squashed like a tomato with a heel.

You were connecting up the dots to your very last suspect; Scythe.

You met her a few times, once at a bar, another when you had nearly gotten into some beef with some stragglers late at night. She was somewhat always there to support you, but would be never seen again. You took note of this.

When the investigation was left up to you, the police huddling outside for their break; the sun blared down below the alleyway. The shadows were your spectators, witnesses to a brutal massacre of several.

It was her. It was her, how she always disappeared, how everything seemed to become more of a blur. She was always there.

All she had to do, was find her, or catch her in the act.

"I'll get you, one way or another," you whispered to yourself.

"Well, you've bet to get on wit' it, don'tcha?"

A voice seemed to silence all thoughts. You didn't turn to face the new opponent.

You readied your hand-gun that was strapped to your left thigh, hand hovered cautiously over it.

"You and ya littl' ol' brain, finally come to make senses haven't cha? Fufufu..." Scythe laughed, a claw raised and a large weapon rested on her shoulder.

Your heart was thumping, you had no clue what had happened to the people that were here before; blood leaked across the floorboards.

"You must watch yourself, Snake, or else," you threatened, vile in your throat and hatred in your words.

"Or else what, my fine sheep, you goin' to do something?" Her name-calling was getting on your nerves. "The sheep, the one who follows, threatenin' big ol' me? Why, what a show."

"You best watch your tone, or else I'll get those men to take you away-" "And do what? Shoot me with this?" She plucked a gun from her pocket, you could hear it fall and chatter on the cold, hard ground. It rung in your ears.

"Say, maybe if you are ta hear me out, I'll leave ya' be!" Scythe snarled in a smirk, eyeing at you as you gave a small turn. Your hand still readied by your waist.

"And what must that be?" You questioned.

It took her seconds before she was up close, hand over your prepared one as she pulled you into a hold. Your hands, crunched in her soft leather glove while the other one, outstretched and squished by her metal.

"Scream, and everyone in this town's blood will be on your hands, rabbit," You were petrified but held in your sounds, clogged in your throat. You could just throw up.

She took notice, and started dragging you away. In a sorts of type of kidnapping, it was uncomfortable. She caressed your cheek, holding you close as she kept viable eye on you.

Everything started to become fuzzy, did she slip a drug into you by chance? No, she couldn't have. That's not her sense of style. But, everything and everywhere became unrecognizable.

"That's it, we're nearly there, my sweet," Scythe was astonished at how you were still able to walk, to even keep yourself up with her as you seemed to become tired and unable to respond.

Her scorpion tail came back close to her once more.

"Fucking- scorpion.." You pointed out, the tip of her stinger dripped a certain chemical before you fell into the warm-heated sand.

Light's blared into your face as you suddenly awoke. Your back was in pain, brain spinning and pleading to be free from it's coffin.

"Fuck-.. where?"

"Ah-ah ah! Don't want the doctors hard-work to be demolished shall we?" Scythe's voice rung through the room. It echoed in your ears.

"Where am I!" You screamed, but it seemed no use as she walked over. Her heels clicked to the solid, clear marble ground.

A hand reached over, two clawed fingers pinched at your chin and made her look up. God, she was tall, and quite beautiful, for a serial killer. "Wouldn't wanna wake up the others now, do we?" Her scorpion tail threatened as it reached in view.

Eyes widened, and a simple nod in command. She let go in a rough manner.

"Now, you best listen to me, or else you'll end up the same way those people ended up," Your ears wanted to close, but you made eye-contact with her.

She took it as an agreement.

"You've rose quite an interest in me, my sweet. I wouldn't think such people like ya' would be so heavily fascinated in my work of art," Work of art? What is she talking about? Those were never work of art. Those were polished crime-scenes of horror. Onslaughts.

"Now, I wouldn't want my favourite detective, my favourite sheep to be close to finding out about me now do I?" You shook your head.

"Good. Now, if you want to live and make it out of this room alive, you best follow my words," Alive?! "What do you mean 'make it out alive'? I have no deeds to share with you!" You spat.

"Oh, but you mustn't think of it that way. Think of it as a way of... saving you and mine's life. You see, I work for someone quite special deity," Special? Who could be anymore special then the SfOTH? The respected deities, gods if you will?

"There's no one as special as the SfOTH, those deities would crush someone as despicable as your boss."

That struck a nerve.

"You best keep that mouth shut, or else I will do more damage then what my boss would do to you and everyone in this god-for-saken town," Her weapon in hand, you squeaked. You stayed quiet once more.

"... Now, where was I? Ah, yes. I want you to join me, in order to protect you from the harms that might come your way for your... case," "Work with you?" "Yes."

You could nearly laugh! But you couldn't, you'd die.

"...Any benefits?"

"Oh, darling. Benefits were already arranged the first time we met," You snarled. Of course, she was planning this all along at the very start.

"Now, do we have a deal?"

Silence.

A long, period of silence.

"Well?"

You couldn't stop thinking about your family. Your friends, people you considered close.

"You best answer me, clock is ticking."

Your father, mother, what about your pets? What about, what about, what about?!

A slam of the chair, and a rising heat of pain strucking your face as you cried out.

"I've given you one chance at this, now you best answer me! Yes, or nay?" Scythe knelt down to face at you.

"One."

No Answer.

"Two."

No answer.

"THREE-"

"I ACCEPT! I will join your stupid- fucking team!"

...

"Good."

[billgetsmewet]

i will save your life…

request : HELLLOOOO so like- what if uh Bill x reader but like they do it while listening to deftones?? (Ex: Risk from the dimond eyes album or something) idk i feel like that would be a good short story idk 🫶🏻

warnings : p in v, smut, handjob, sub!bill, petnames (ex princess/slut etc.)

Bill has been on tour foreverrr.. he was supposed to come back today, you were telling all of your friends about it. It was a big thing, considering hes been all over europe in the past few weeks, not even stepping a foot in your hometown.

He calls you up out of nowhere saying the bus broke down, great. - you think to yourself as you sigh, making him hear on the other end of the phone. I wish i could be there with you already.. - he mumbles, but you can barely hear him.

The music in the background blurs his voice but so does the fact that he barely has any signal.

I cant hear you.. -you chuckle- are you listening to deftones in the bus?.. -you ask, making him focus on the music for a second.

Oh im not the one who put it on, it was Gustav - he chuckles aswell, before getting a bit startled by someone next to him.

The bus is fixed! - he yells out. Were gonna be there soon!

You feel your mouth rounding up into a cheeky smile as he says that, you both know what youre gonna do together when he gets home..

You get a ring at your doorbell, you get shivers down your spine as you rush downstairs to unlock the door for him.

You open the door and hug him, not even letting him enter before you do.

Is that.. deftones? - he laughs, hearing the CD player bursting deftones in your room at max volume. yeah.. i thought youd like it - you reply nervously. yeah! i dont mind it, if you know what i mean - he laughs, almost laughing off the fact that you tried to impress him.

You invite him upstairs into your room, as you always do, trying to “enjoy some time with him”. you sit down on your bed, just as he does, right next to you.

The music is blurring out any sound you might hear in your room or anywhere in your house, basically its hella fucking loud, eardrums hurting type of loud.

You look at Bill, trying to tell you something you just cant hear, with lust in his eyes, his lips glossy and his look begging for you.

You didnt even have to read his lips to know what he wanted, you felt it straight up.

You smile at him, before standing up to lower the music a bit so youd be able to hear his moans.

Next thing you know hes in his boxers and youre palming him, hes rock hard, whining for you to do something about it.. what a slut.

B-bmhh.. baby.. mhh! please! please! -he moans pathetically, begging you to fuck him.

Be patient now, wont you? you made me wait too.. you didnt visit me for weeks for some stupid tour, isnt that true, hm? -you argue.

He just keeps whining and moaning like a dog, his eyes tearing up. Baby it hurts.. p-please it hurts.. -he cries, yet you let him cry, you keep palming him and teasing him. You feel his precum leaking from his boxers, “god..” you thought to yourself, trying to hold yourself back, not letting him win.

Eventually he did win, no matter how hard you tried, you couldnt resist his puppy eyes. The music is still blasting in your ears as you hear a big moan from him, louder than the music, he has managed to rip the boxers… how? i dont know, you tell me.. It was a sign to jerk him off, or atleast you took it that way.

You started slowly pumping him from the bottom with one hand , while you tease his red, swollen tip with the other. His precum has already coated both of your palms. A-Ah!.. Ah!! please.. faster..mmh! -he moans, how cute. You do as he tells you and you start pumping him faster, now with both hands.

His mouth hangs agape, moaning and crying submissively.

Please.. please.. mommy.. please.. let me cum..-he whimpers. Do you think you deserve it, Billy? Have you been a good boy? -you ask in reply. Yes! mh..mhm! mhm.. please! yes!

He just wouldnt shut up, would he?…

A-hhmm..ah! mommy.. i cant take it anymore-mmh.. im gonna cum.. mmh.. - he moans, before comming all over your hands.

Now this wasnt acceptable, what a dirty little whore. Cant even listen to his own girlfriend.

Oh look at what youve done.. this dirty boy needs punishing, doesnt he? look at you.. - you say, degrading him. I-i.. i didnt mean to, im sorry.. i couldnt hold it back.. Nuh-uh! This dirty slut needs punishing after this.

You unbuckle your belt, letting your pants fall down, making a clinking sound as the belts hit the hardwood floor. You get ontop of him, grabbing his waist, sitting down on his lap, teasing him before you actually begin.

Oh look at you now.. already hard again.. -you say, seeing his boner become more and more intense. What a slut for mommy, arent you?

You take off your lingerie, making him stare at your bare pussy, this time, he was even harder.

You get ontop of him, bouncingyourself up and down, relaxing into the music and ignoring his requests and moans.

A-Ah! please slow down, it hurts.. mmh..-he was so sensitive, what a submissive boy.

Mhm?.. ah.. fuck.. Bill.. arent you a dirty little sensitive slut for mama, hm? -you groan, trying to hold back your whimpers and cries, he was big, you couldnt lie.

You started bouncing faster, not caring about his high but about your own, he was already a spoiled little boy anyways.

Mama.. mh.. i cant take it anymore im gonna cum again…-he cries, coincidentally right before you reach your climax, cumming all over his abdomen, making him not able to finish.

Fuck.. -you breathe heavily as you get off him. But.. But mommy… -he whines.

Bad boys dont get to finish, darling…

———————————————————————

Ps: i wrote this in school it took me like two hours and why tf is it so short… anyways the coffee thay im drinking rn is hitting diff ughhh, i think its mocha or something

[miloformula123fan]

okay like 2 months ago, I put out this moodboard, and @evans-dejong replied to it, and im gonna be honest that kind of inspired this whole fic

so

carlos sainz x male!royal!reader

Please keep requesting - y'all have awesome ideas we agree on a lot of stuff :) - my guidelines are here, and if you want some prompts, they are here.

also feel free to come in and start chatting to me in my asks, would love to get to know y'all better

and if you want to be added to my taglist lmk :)

carlos sainz x royal!reader

2022 Spanish Grand Prix

“AND George Russell has locked up at the final chicane and Carlos Sainz sails on through BRINGING HIM ONTO THE PODIUM OF HIS HOME RACE ON THE LAST LAP OF THE SPANISH GRAND PRIX. AND WHAT A RACE THAT WAS. Max Verstappen crossed the finish line first, followed by his teammate Sergio Perez, and rounding out the podium we have Carlos Sainz for ferrari.”

It had been a hard race, Carlos spinning in the first 8 laps. But he’d done a very good recovery drive, getting up to the podium.

Y/N couldn’t help but clap his hands as he saw a ferrari and a spanish driver on the podium from the back of the Ferrari garage. He saw himself on the screens, and flashed a winning smile. His mum looked at him with exasperated fondness as he hopped around waiting for the drivers to get on the podium, so she could hand the trophies over. He’d been looking forward to it all weekend, the previous highlight being handing off the pole position award to the other ferrari driver.

“And now to present the trophies to the drivers on the podium, we have Crown Prince Y/N, representing the Spanish Royal Family.”

Y/N could almost feel his hands shaking as he picked up the 3rd place trophy and prepared to hand it over. He ran himself through what he was supposed to do

‘Pick up the trophy, display it to the cameras, don’t drop it, first to the person closest, they’re 3rd place, hopefully you’ve picked up the correct trophy Y/N, then as you’re handing it over, shake their hand, congratulate the spaniard, pose for a photo handing over the trophy, and then walk back. Repeat for 2nd place, they’re the one furthest away, not a Spaniard, repeat for team, it’s the mechanic who looks hella awkward on the really small podium, and finally do it for 1st. Then get out of the way before they start spraying champagne.’

And it almost entirely went to plan. He had nearly kissed the Spanish driver on the podium, because damn he was hot. But otherwise it had gone to plan. 

Well, until, while trying to get out of the way and completing his task, he had gotten sprayed on the back of his new shirt. Damn.

He heard the cheers and yelling stop as everyone realised that he had been hit. Y/N snickered in his head at the thought that people were scared of him, worried that because he’d been hit by some champagne, that everyone would be executed. Instead he laughed it off, grabbed Carlos’ bottle and took a chug before wandering off the podium, laughing at the ruined shirt. His mother chastised him and fussed over him as he walked away laughing.

The Spanish ferrari driver was hot, sue him.

---

2022 Silverstone

“AND IN HIS 150TH RACE, CARLOS SAINZ WINS THE BRITISH GRAND PRIX. HIS FIRST VICTORY IN F1”

Y/N could hear the cheers, the announcement was a little blurred as he hugged Carlos O, Carlos’ cousin and manager, after waving the spanish flag through a gap in the fence, yelling and cheering over the noise of the engines. There wasn’t a lot of celebration in the garage, as Charles, who was contending for the championship, had had a horrible race, but who cared? Carlos had won, at least Red Bull hadn’t won, they were still contending for the championship.

“And what a day for Ferrari, but they won with the wrong car!” Ted shouted into his microphone as the celebrations kicked on.

“I’m sorry?”

“Uhh, sorry to everyone at home we now have Crown Prince Y/N from the Spanish Royal Family. Now Your Royal Highness, what did you say?”

“Well first, my title is Prince of Asturias. Not this ‘Your Royal Highness’ bullshit that you’re trying to lower my status to…”

“Sorry, language for the kids at home.”

“Oh, says you, Ted Kravitz. Hi Kids, my name is Crown Prince Y/N, or the Prince of Asturias, and I’m going to give you a… what’s the word…unbiased view of the grand prix today. Charles and Max were struggling today. Then there was a safety car, and Carlos was given a better strategy. Now, keep in mind kids, this was because Charles was not having a great day. Then Carlos was once again screwed over by Ferrari strategists, however for once in his life he stood up for himself, and made himself a good strategy and won himself the race. His first race win, after 150 race starts. There is no wrong driver to win with for Ferrari, and Carlos deserved that win as much as Charles did. Thanks Tommy.”

“It’s Ted…”

Y/N waited in Carlos’ driver room for him to arrive back from the media. Carlos meanwhile had been told by his cousin that Y/N was waiting for him, and tried to pass off his impatience as excitement over the win. He had barely seen Y/N since the win, being celebrated with his team, but he had spotted him on Carlos O and Carlos Sr. shoulders, cheering with the other Ferrari engineers, and butchering his own national anthem, which was always fun to watch. But he hadn’t seen him properly, been able to hold him and scream and kiss him.

And he couldn’t wait for that.

Finally, after what felt like forever, he reached the door of his driver room. He could sense Y/N behind that door, actually he could hear him, chatting to what he assumed were his younger sisters and parents.

He slowly opened the door, pushing it with his hips as his hands held his water bottle and his trophy.

He watched for a second, not wanting to disturb Y/N, especially if he was saying something royal that he wasn’t supposed to hear. 

Y/N was lying on his stomach on the massage bed, his feet hanging off the end as he had propped his phone up against the wall. His feet were kicked up in the air, swinging backwards and forwards, as his head, which he was holding up by his hands, was bopping side to side as he talked to his family.

“Yeah, so just waiting for him to finish his post race debriefs and media and then he’ll be here soon, and I’ll hang up then, I don't want to scare Leonor again. By the way, Leo, how’s Gavi going? Feel like the last I heard was from some media article about how he wanted to focus on football and didn’t want a girlfriend distracting him, but I'm sure you’ve managed to persuade him otherwise…”

While Y/N was teasing his younger sister, he was cut off by  his (quite unmanly) screams as Carlos grabbed him from behind and hugged him to his chest, swinging him back and forth.

Once he had reassured both his family and the bodyguards who had burst into the room with their guns drawn that he was fine and Carlos had just scared him, he hung up the facetime call and snuggled in with Carlos on the small massage table, and admired the trophy.

“It’s pretty…” his hand hovered over all the details “like you mi amor.”

“...huh, most people would describe me as handsome rather than pretty, mi vida”

“Not me, you’re my pretty boy.”

---

Silverstone 2023

“Hello! You must be Lando!” Y/N walked towards the Mclaren boy and gave him a hug.

“You're the crown prince of Spain.”

“Wow, he’s observant eh Chilli?”

“Mate, i mean this in the nicest way possible, how the fuck did you manage to bag the crown prince of spain?”

“I think the real question you should be asking is how I managed to bag the most attractive f1 driver?”

“Have you seen Fernando?”

“Good point. The most attractive Spanish f1… no no, that doesn’t work. Uhhhh, the second most attractive F1 driver.”

“what?”

"nothing darling, good luck for your race Lando and nice to meet you!"

---

Singapore 2023

“AND RUSSELL IS IN THE WALL. GEORGE RUSSELL IS IN THE WALL AND CARLOS SAINZ IS GOING TO TAKE VICTORY FOR THE SECOND TIME IN AMAZING CIRCUMSTANCES. SO FAR THE ONLY NON RED BULL DRIVER TO WIN A RACE THIS YEAR”

“OH MY FUCKING GOD!” Y/N couldn’t help screaming through the ferrari garage as the entire ferrari garage erupted as Carlos crossed the line first. His bodyguards were clearly trying to reach him, but he didn’t care as he gave a massive hug to every mechanic and an even bigger one to Fred as he kept screaming his head off.

“OH MY FUCKING GOD YES! VAMOS YES!”

He was gonna lose it. Carlos had won a race. And this one for so many more reasons felt better than the Silverstone win. No disputes about team orders or who was the better driver.

Carlos had done it all on merit.

Once again he was hoisted up on the Carlos’ shoulders to horribly butcher his own national anthem. He could see his bodyguards trying to push through the throng of mechanics, but the mechanics were pushing back equally as hard. Well if his bodyguards couldn’t get through a crowd of overexcited mechanics, then maybe that was a sign he needed new bodyguards. First one’s who could get through a crowd when necessary, but also ones who understood that he could do what he wanted. He saw the cameras, flicking between the 2 of them singing to each other horribly, but he didn’t care. So what if these photos and videos were all over the tabloids tomorrow. 

Tonight was their night.

And nothing could change that.

nothing.

---

Spain 2024

Y/N walked onto the podium again, remembering how 2 years ago he had walked onto this stage and met the love of his life at that time.

Except this time, he was standing with the spanish flag around his shoulders, on the P1 spot, instead of the P3 spot as he was 2 years ago. His smile was bigger, and the cheers were louder, especially with Fernando Alonso in P2.

As Y/N handed off the P3 trophy to a grumpy Max Verstappen, a P2 trophy to an elated Fernando Alonso, who gave him a massive hug and shake as they jumped up and down. Very different from 2 years ago. 

And after giving a constructors trophy to a confused team member, finally it was Carlos’ turn. Y/N smiled as he handed over the trophy, adoring the goofy grin on his face. He also hugged him, and Y/N only cringed slightly at the sweat that was now on his suit.

It’s okay. He was never expected to wear this suit again.

He barely got out of the spray zone before the champagne spraying had begun. At least as he thought.

He let out a very unroyal scream as he felt the cold champagne trickle down his back, turning around to the silence with Fernando having a cheeky grin on his face (this seems hella clunky). The rest of the paddock and the podium was frozen, as if worried that he was going to order Fernando’s execution. Instead, he held his hand out, as his mother passed him a bottle of champagne that he proceeded to spray straight in Fernando’s face.

And then as the champagne started to drain, Carlos leaned over and kissed Y/N square on the lips. First official show of affection, and as Carlos pulled away and flashed the cheeky grin at Y/N, he thought about how the royal PR people would be scrambling to confirm that yes, Carlos was courting the crown prince of Spain.

But he didn’t care

So he leaned in and kissed him again.

Y/N walked onto the podium again, remembering how 2 years ago he had walked onto this stage and met the love of his life at that time.

Except this time, he was standing with the spanish flag around his shoulders, on the P1 spot, instead of the P3 spot as he was 2 years ago. His smile was bigger, and the cheers were louder, especially with Fernando Alonso in P2.

As Y/N handed off the P3 trophy to a grumpy Max Verstappen, a P2 trophy to an elated Fernando Alonso, who gave him a massive hug and shake as they jumped up and down. Very different from 2 years ago. 

And after giving a constructors trophy to a confused team member, finally it was Carlos’ turn. Y/N smiled as he handed over the trophy, adoring the goofy grin on his face. He also hugged him, and Y/N only cringed slightly at the sweat that was now on his suit.

It’s okay. He was never expected to wear this suit again.

He barely got out of the spray zone before the champagne spraying had begun. At least as he thought.

He let out a very unroyal scream as he felt the cold champagne trickle down his back, turning around to the silence with Fernando having a cheeky grin on his face (this seems hella clunky). The rest of the paddock and the podium was frozen, as if worried that he was going to order Fernando’s execution. Instead, he held his hand out, as his mother passed him a bottle of champagne that he proceeded to spray straight in Fernando’s face.

And then as the champagne started to drain, Carlos leaned over and kissed Y/N square on the lips. First official show of affection, and as Carlos pulled away and flashed the cheeky grin at Y/N, he thought about how the royal PR people would be scrambling to confirm that yes, Carlos was courting the crown prince of Spain.

But he didn’t care

So he leaned in and kissed him again.

---

taglist: @leosxrealm, @tallrock35, @wolf-knights, @janeholt3, @badblondebisexualboy, @ghostking4m

[princessslutt]

Eeek topper request ☺️☺️☺️ topper teaching you how to drive his boat and the rocking of the waves feels a little too good 😛

{ @rafeyscurtainbangs } kel baby you ask and i deliver (also first topper request?! feeling a little too whimsical.) and sorry about ur account my love!

a/n: eh this is alright. im not sure if i like how i ended this but here it is!

-

it’s all a blur until topper is waking you up from your afternoon nap to drag you out of the house today because you had complained about being bored, but you wanted to do something fun, not something he wanted to do.

he peels the blankets from your body, throwing them across the room.

“topper, i was sleeping! m’really tired.”

he scoffs, leaning against the wall and crossing his arms over his chest.

“that’s too damn bad, you’re tagging along with me today because im not gonna deal with your little attitude when i leave you here all alone because you didn’t wanna come.”

“mhm, you know what happened last time.” you tease, but topper just rolls his eyes and pulls you up by your arm. “im serious kid, cmon.”

eventually you huff, rolling out of bed to walk to the beautiful pink bathroom that topper hates sharing with you.

you do your little makeup, put on your bathing suit and over it a swimsuit cover.

finally after topper says you took decades, you and him both walk to his boat. of course you’re already complaining because you despise walking anywhere.

“could’ve just let me sleep, i don’t know why you want me to come with you on your stupid little boat rides anyway.”

topper is already sick of your attitude, even questioning himself on why he brought you with him.

“just enjoy yourself baby, quit complaining.”

after a long while, the boat glides along the water. you can hear topper calling your name. you waddle over to him, arms crossed. “sit on my lap baby, gonna teach you how to drive the boat.” he exclaims.

so you do just that, lifting yourself up onto his lap and your back facing him.

he directs your hands to hold what you’re supposed to.

“i won’t be able to do it top, it’s hard!” he scoffs at your statement, hooking his head over your shoulder to look at you in the eyes.

“you can do it babygirl, you’ll be fine.”

eventually you get the idea. while you’re helping topper drive the boat, he is relaxing and you’re still on his lap.

you feel the rocking of the water beneath you, sucking in a gasp.

“t-top, i don’t wanna do it anymore!” little did you know, topper knew exactly why you didn’t want to drive the boat anymore. he could as well feel the rocking of the water.

“why princess? you’re doing so well.. basically a professional hm?”

“i-i just don’t wanna do it anymore, you can do it now!” topper just chuckles, lifting her up off his lap. “y’know, if your little pussy was experiencing some pleasure, you coulda just said that baby.”

your cheeks fill up with embarrassment, your hands flying to cover your face and you feel like crying.

“no need to get embarrassed doll. it’s normal, now go back to what you were doing. i’ll drive the boat sweet thing.”

[romanarose]

Puzzle Pieces Drabbles part 1

Ben Miller x Fem!Reader

Summary: You're dating Tom, a whirlwind romance that came at a low point in your life. Within months, you live with him and he's not as nice as he was in the begining. Tom does things that upset you, Benny finds a way to make it better.

Warnings: IDK what to call this but it's def shitty behavior throughout. Will progressively get worse during the series but let's start with this. Drinking. Messing up something that you spent time on. Emotional cheating and eventually some kissing cheating. Im not doing full series warnings because I don't know what everything will contain. We'll do it chapter by chapter.

A/N: This will be a short series of comfort drabbles where Tom does something shitty and Ben makes it better. No smut. I'm at a low point rn and just want softness.

*****************

Tom was supposed to text you before he brought people over.

It wasn't that you disliked his friends, they were all very kind and respectful of your home. If one was dropping by or it was a spur of the moment thing it was no big deal, but you didn't like having all of them over without warning. There was laundry on the couch and no snacks ready. You were sure they'd be drunk.

"Hey baby!" Tom greets loudly as he walks in, finding you in the kitchen putting some chips in a bowl. He squeezes your ass as he kisses you. You didn't like when he did that around others, he said he was just showing off his sexy girlfriend.

"Hi!" You kiss him back, so excited he's home early you don't mind the booze on his breath. You turn around and set the bowl at the kitchen island, smiling brightly at Frankie, Will, Santi, Ben and a few friends you only sort of knew. It was Ben your eyes lingered on the longest, he was your favorite, always so much fun when he came over.

Ben grinned at you. "I see you finished the puzzle!"

"I did!" Sliding to the kitchen table, giddy to show off your project, you grab the corners. The puzzle was huge, a giant baby Yoda puzzle you were proud of after all the hours spent on it. Ben was over a few days ago when you were working on it. "Look!" You'd seen it on tin tok, practicing pulling a puzzle off the table and keeping it intact. With pride, you hold it up for Tom and his friends to see, beaming. A few so's and ah's came from the guys.

Tom laughed. "oh, is that what you were doing instead of laundry?" And you catch Will glaring at him.

You mumble an apology, and begin to try and lay it down when Tom insists you hold it up again. For a moment, you're happy he wants to see your hard work.

Until he smacks it down.

You watch in shock as all the pieces tumble to the floor, clattering at the tiles. Heat burns at your face in embaressment, unable to look up to see who is laughing at you, because some people are.

When you hear Frankie shout 'What the fuck, Tom!', Tom retaliates that it's just a stupid puzzle from a stupid show.

You're ashamed at having been excited for something Tom thinks is stupid.

The argument escalates but you can't see, kneeling down to pick up the mess. Fuck, the floors needed to be washed too. Tears burned in your eyes and you willed yourself not to cry. You hear Frankie say he needs to step out, and out of the corner of your eye you see Will taking him outside, being the only one who could match his height and weight.

You're tears blur your vision, you don't even realize someone is helping you clean. Wiping them, to see Ben on the floor with you picking up the last few before standing and putting them in the box. Christ he was tall.

"Thank you." You whisper, sniffling.

"Don't thank me." His voice was deep, a thick southern drawl you liked. He sat at the table. "C'mon, honey, let's get started."

When you stand, you look at him in confusion. "Huh."

Ben smiles at you. "The puzzle. Ain't gonna let you do this without me a second time. I love baby Yoda."

Tentatively, you sit at the table with him and get to work on fixing your puzzle. Chunks were still intact, so it wasn't a complete wash.

By the time the guys came back in, you were smiling and laughing again, halfway through the puzzle once more.

**************

That's it, super simple.

I know I should be doing my DBF Joel fix today but I've had an awful time and just want soft rn

I'll do a separate tag list for this bc it's Garret, not Pedro or Oscar so lmk if you wanna be tagged.

or follow @romana-after-dark for updates

Tagging a few people I know read Benny fics

@my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction@itspdameronthings @miraclesabound @missdictatorme

[shed-the-god]

I’m Proud of you, you Silly Billy

YS and HS drabble

Wanna write some hurt/comfort, especially since im writing angst for sfa lol ✌🏾(•w•)

Enjoy 💜~

Drearily waking up in a monochromatic space, YS stayed laying down confused.

Where is he? Is he having a nightmare?

He sat up and as he lifted his hand to pinch himself, he saw his microphone off to the side, glowing bright red.

It was weird how vibrant it was. It worried Yourself so much he scrambled to grab the mic. Reaching out to it right as it fades away in front of him.

YS’ heart dropped into the pit of his stomach. Now, he desperately needs this to be a nightmare.

Quickly sitting up with blurring vision, he’s met with red. Backing up and wiping the tears, he’s sees…

“…Girlfriend?”

“In the flesh~. Or well, dream ectoplasm.” The demon ghost let out a soft grin after her silly entry. But it was mostly ignored for the awe visible on the man’s face. He was in full silence taking in his girlfriend’s form. She knelt gracefully on the ground of gray space. She was ethereal. Bright and beautiful. Taking up space to show off herself.

“Well~, if you’re gonna be slack-jawed, i’ll talk with no interruptions.” The angel snapped his mouth closed at the remark. “I don’t have much time to maintain this form in either real life or here, it takes alot of magic. I just want to say, take care of yourself. I’ve seen what you’ve been doing.

“Caring for others and ignoring your own needs. That’s not how that’s supposed to happen. If you’re going in this direction, at least be an example not an exception.” Herself stared Yourself down enough to have him look away in embarrassment.

He didn’t expect to be called out by his own dead girlfriend, what is this. It’s still surreal to physically see and hear the other not just see a flash of light to mimic and translate her reactions and responses to him. Now he’s being told off and reprimanded.

“I’m sorry for disappointing you… i just-”

“Disappoint me? No,” she breathed out exasperated, “I’m proud of you, you silly billy. I just want you to not destroy yourself trying to help and be kind to others.”

YS’ eyes watered again, but in happiness this time. He looked back down trying to hold back the tears. He felt so… full. He really loves and misses her, huh?

“What a silly notion to think. You’ve created a community, a family, to love and support one another. You-”

“I only did that so i could be to you later… I’m sorry i can’t be with you now…”

“Boyfriend. You’re alive, continue to be like for me. Please.” The angel could no longer hold back the tears, he could only let them fall hearing the demon’s words. “I’ll always be here, okay? It may only be in spirit technically, but I’ll always be here. Now, come here.”

Falling face first into the embrace, warmth was added to that fullness he felt. God he missed her. Her hugs. Her voice. Her everything. He doesn’t want to let go, but he can feel everything fade around him. Can feel HS getting lighter in his arms. He squeezed her tighter and he felt her grip tighten as well before he woke up to the mic glowing bright red on his bed before settling back to its dark color.

She must be tired now, so YS will let her sleep, cuddling up and laying to his mic, thinking.

[sunrisemill]

✮From the start✮ Pt.4

Chris and y/n have always been inseparable, they’ve always relied on each other but what happens when one of them falls?

(Warnings: mentions of mental health such as Anxiety and possibly depression. Please take care of yourself, I love you 🤍)

Pt.1 Pt.2 Pt.3 Finale

Y/ns’ POV

(Present)

I feel a wave of anxiety crash down on me as he stares at me from across the dining table. How in the hell am I supposed to do this? I feel the tension rise within seconds as I remain silent, I just wish I could see what he's thinking. The look he has on his face is unreadable and stern. God, I've fucked everything up. I continue to tell myself that until I hear him clear his throat. “Well…are you going to say something?” Right, with my emotions at an all-time high, I completely forgot how much time had passed. “I'm so sorry, Chris,” I whisper before taking in a deep shaky breath. “It was wrong to treat you like that and it's okay if you don't forgive me, I understand. But I couldn't go on until I gave you an apology.” I watch him carefully as he processes my words. Please forgive me, please Chris. He nods his head before leaning back in his chair. “I'm sorry too. But could you just tell me what's wrong? You continue to shut me out and that's not healthy Y/n, you can't just bottle everything up and expect it to be okay.” He sits up straight and leans forward again, propping his elbows on the table as he reaches his hand out to gently hold my hand in his. His touch sends shockwaves throughout my body. “Just talk to me. I'm here.”  My chest tightens as I stare down at our hands which are interlocked. I can feel his eyes bore into my head as the air grows thicker. I can’t tell him, he's gonna think I'm being dramatic or I'm just being silly. Oh my god, he's gonna think that something is wrong with me, or that I'm too much for him to handle and he's just going to leave me. “Y/n?” The concern in Chris’ voice when he notices how my breathing has picked up causes me to spiral into a deeper panic. I lift my head to look at him but my vision is blurred by tears. Chris’ face drops when he sees me in such a distressed state. “Y/n, please talk to me.” The slight squeeze he gives my hand pushes me over the edge. I can't do this. I need to leave. Right. Now. I tell myself as I quickly drop his hand and shoot up out of my chair, the speed of my action causes the chair to fall back, but I don't care. The only thing I care about is getting out of that damn house. The sound of Chris calling after me is cancelled out as the sound of my heartbeat in my ears drowns it out.

~~~~

Chris’ POV

I feel as though everything just blew up within a few minutes. I shouldn't have done that, I pushed her too far now. I can't believe I had her back and now im watching her run out of my house because of my idiotic actions. “Y/n!” I shout out to her but she doesn't stop…shit. I quickly stand up to chase after her but get stopped by a tug on my arm, my head snaps to look at whatever has tugged on my arm and im met with my mother. “You have to let her go, Chris. She's not worth it.” Nothing but rage fills my senses as I hear those words leave her mouth. She's not worth it…How dare she say that about Y/n, she doesn't know her like I do.  “you have no idea what you’re talking about.” She looks up at me with sympathy. “I've seen enough to know that she's no good. If you go after her now she’s gonna trip up again and drag you down with her, I used to know people like her, and They did nothing but destroy everything in their paths. Do not go.” I stand there in pure disbelief. “So what? Im just supposed to stand here like a fucking imbecile when she's obviously distressed?!” I spit out as I yank my arm away from her, looking down at her with disgust. “Im not doing that again. Im going after her, whether you like it or not.” I give her one last gare before turning around and walking out of the house in search of Y/n.

~~~~

Y/ns’ POV

The sound of crickets chirping in the long grass and wind rustling withered leaves has an eerie but soothing sound. I can't believe I ran out of there but I know that's what I needed to do. I stare at the reflection of the moon across the lake as I think back to when life was simple before reality struck me like a bolt of lightning. I think back to when I was just a little kid sitting on the same ground that I am now, I remember a small Chris running to me to show me a small daisy that he thought I'd like. He has always been like that, the kindest soul I have ever known. But I just had to ruin it, ruin us. Sometimes, I think he would be better off without me, im only just dragging him down. He insists that he wouldn't know where he would be without me but I know… He'd be happier and not have to deal with all the stress and sadness I've caused. It's like I destroy everything I've ever touched, why can't I just be normal? I let out a silent sob as my fingers tangled through the grass below me, If Chris was here he'd tell me that it would be okay, that I'd be okay. But how could he be so sure of that? He’d be horrified if he took even a peek into my brain. I still remember how he looked at me on that night. “I’ve never met a girl like you before, I feel like all my problems go away when I'm with you. I'm so glad I get to call you my best friend.” I shake my head at the memory. How could I be so stupid? He’d never like me, he's gonna end up with a happy bubbly girl and realize how horrible I am. I bring a shaky hand up to wipe away the tears on my cheeks when I hear a voice. “I thought I'd find you here.” I keep my head down as I feel Chris sit beside me.

“Hey…” He whispers as he wraps his arms around my shoulders and pulls me close to him “It’s gonna be okay, you're gonna be okay.” I let out a small chuckle. “I knew you’d say that.” I sniffle, leaning into his touch, it takes me a moment but I finally look up at him. He lets out a sad sigh and brings his hand up to my face, wiping away the tears that continue to roll down my cheeks. “Am I that predictable, huh?” He asks teasingly with a slight tilt to his head. I smile softly as I take my chance to fully take in everything about this moment. The way his hair brushes against my face as he looks down at me. The moonlight casting a pale light around us. I bask in the comfortable silence between us, wishing it could last forever. “I'm so sorry Y/n… I shouldn't have pushed you-” “It's okay, Chris.” I quickly cut him off. “It's just… I'm not good at talking about my feelings. Ever since I was younger I was told I was sensitive and I was overreacting. Everyone made me feel like I was crazy when I would open up, they’d say it was all in my head but would never comfort me or even try to help me. So I thought that if I could hide my feelings we’d be fine, but it didn't work.” My heart drops down to my stomach as I open up for the first time. “I'm just so tired of it all…” I sigh as my head hangs low. “I feel like everyone is moving on with their lives and I'm stuck frozen in time. Look at me right now… one thing goes wrong in my life and I come running back to the lake.” I shake my head as I look back out towards the water. Why does this have to be so difficult? “I try so hard at everything but nobody seems to notice or care, But when somebody actually notices I chase them away 'cause I get scared that I'd be a burden to them, I feel like such a coward.” I whisper the last part as I wait until the moment when Chris finally speaks up. It takes him a minute but he tightens his arms around me as he whispers. “I'm sorry… I know how hard that was for you and I just want you to know that I'm so proud of you. I take back every word I said to you, You are not a coward Y/n, you’re the strongest person I know.” He ends that sentence by placing a kiss on the side of my head. Oh my god, he just kissed me. I'm sure it was just a friendly kiss. “You think so?” I whisper back, hope glimmering in my eyes. “I know so. You’ve gone through so much, Y/n. I’ve never been more proud of somebody else before. Just know…you could never be a burden to me, Y/n. I love you so much and I care for you so deeply, you can come to me always. I could be anywhere, I could be at a concert and I'd still drop everything to come see you” He looks down at me with his infamous boyish grin.  I smile back at him as I finally feel my tears dry up. “You love me?” I whisper in disbelief, how is this possible? He loves me back. He nods his head as he replies with a voice so soft that it puts clouds to shame

“More than anything.”

(A/n: Omg I worked my ass off on this one. I hope that you enjoyed it 🤭 the next part is gonna be the last one (don’t take my word on it cause I’m indecisive) anyways, thank you for reading, I LOVE U 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩💋😽)

Tags: @guccifrog @junnniiieee07

[baalzebufo]

One Star, Brighter than the Rest

y'know what. im probably not gonna get around to writing more of this because im lazy but if it sits in my drafts forever nobody will see it so im posting this fic/drabble/thing. THIS IS for my demon gideon au.

Gideon, at the end of his rope, calls Bill to make a deal. But Bill has bigger plans. Much bigger plans.

---

‘I'm finally ready to make a deal.’

The walls of his solitary cell seemed to shift then, as the buzzing in his ears grew into a wild cacophony of laughter. Gideon stumbled backwards away from the chalk sigil on the wall, his vision blurring and swimming as the dream came into being. The crude drawing seemed to pulse, its single eye blinking. Then, a massive beam of light- Gideon shielded his eyes, and the moment his vision returned he was hovering there before him. Bill Cipher.

‘WELL, WELL, WELL! Look who came craaaawling back!’

---

The triangle squinted at him, throwing his hands up and watching the child flinch at his voice. Gideon felt his back pressed against the cold stone wall of his cell. He had no time to respond before Bill sprung forward.

‘Geez, you look haggard, shortstack! What's wrong, the warden giving you trouble again?’ His tone was mocking- his tone was always mocking. ‘One of your prison buddies finally got fed up and try to shank you? Oh, wait, my bad. That’s supposed to happen next week! Haha!’

Gideon swallowed hard. He couldn’t let Bill get to him. He had summoned HIM- he’s the one in control. He wasn't playing second fiddle to Bill, not now, not ever. He balled his hands up into fists and steeled his nerves, stepping forward with his nose in the air.

‘Listen to me, demon! I called you here because I- I want to make a deal!’ He glared up at Bill with an unearned confidence. ‘You messed up my plan last time, but I'm givin’ you one last shot to prove yourself to me! Y'all're gonna break me out of this joint!’

Bill's eye widened then, before he threw himself backwards into the air with laughter. Gideon seethed. His arms shook as he puffed himself up, standing on his toes. ‘Are you LISTENING to me? Do you want to make a deal or not!?’

He grit his teeth until Bill calmed down, wiping a tear from his eye.

‘Ohhh, kid! You're KILLING me here! You’re really killin’ me!’ He shook himself from side to side, tutting disappointedly. ‘I gotta say, your lack of imagination would be funny if it wasn't so sad, Gideon.’

‘My-’ All at once, rage flared up inside him. ‘WHAT?’ He roared, fully ready to throw one of his tiny fists into the ‘face’ of that smug isosceles jerk-

‘Don't you GET IT, KID?’ He hovered down to Gideons level, put one arm around his shoulders and tugged him in close. ‘You got a personal genie right here, and all you wish for is to get outta prison? Did you even READ my entry in that book you had? You’ve got NO idea what I’m capable of, and here you are, askin’ me for something you could do with one lousy prison riot.’

He patted Gideons shoulder softly. ‘Look, I get it! You’re probably just worn out from all that hard prison labor, aren’t ya? Your mushy little human brain isn’t working right! So I'll cut you some slack just this once. After all, we’re buddies, aren’t we? Haha, yeah we are.’

Gideon froze up, pushed himself out of Bills grasp. He squinted- then frowned. What was he getting at, here…?

‘What are you ramblin' about?’

Bill's laugh cut through him again. ‘You gotta think BIG, shortstack. Sure, I could help you outta this jail, or I could give you the power to do it yourself. I could make you just like ME!’ Bill threw wide his arms and little sparkles flew from his palms.

Gideon blinked, his jaw slightly agape. Bill took his stunned silence as an excuse to carry on his pitch.

‘I've been working on something special while you've been away, and I've got it all figured out! I could make you a bona-fide demon, kid! You could get my powers with all the perks. Think about it- getting into the nightmares of everyone who's ever crossed you, tormenting their every waking moment! Phenomenal cosmic power, right?'

'You're basically the perfect candidate, too. I mean, look at you-' He gestured vaguely at Gideon- for once in his life, speechless. 'You're almost crazy enough for it. I mean, hey, I saw that time you nearly gutted Pine Tree with those shears! In front of his sister, no less! That was DE-LUXE, kid. No hesitation. You've got the murderous ambition to really go far.'

'Honestly, you're probably the only person in this lousy town who could HANDLE this kind of power. So hey, just this one time, let me make YOU a deal you can't refuse! Haha!'

Bill blinked at him- ‘Wink!’ and held his hands out wide. If he had a face, Gideon could tell there would be the biggest toothy smile plastered on it. He swallowed.

Bill was dangerous. He knew this much. He knew you should never- ever- trust a demon at it's word. And yet...

‘You're insane.’ He muttered, shaking his head. ‘You can't do that, it- it just ain't possible.’

‘Gideon, REALITY IS AN ILLUSION. What's ‘possible’ is whatever I WANT to be possible!’ Bill drifted, floating upside down as he spoke. ‘I defy the laws of nature just by EXISTING, so who's to say I can't do anything I want? You're talking to a criminally insane triangle, kid! Start BELIEVING. Here, let me help you.’

Bill snapped his fingers, a teal flame shooting up from his hand and forming a portal of sorts- within it, figures started to form. Gideon saw…

He saw himself.

He saw himself laughing. He was wreathed in flame yet somehow still cast in shadow in the middle of a chalk pentagram, his five-pointed star burning bright. Gravity Falls around him lay in ruins. He stood in the burning husk of what was once the Mystery Shack. The Pines lay crumpled, crushed beneath burning timbers. The smell of ash and blood thick in the air.

And hovering before him, as if in a deep fairytale sleep, was Mabel.

Sweet, sweet Mabel.

He saw a vision of his victory. All the power he had ever wanted coursing through his veins. Everyone who had ever slighted him was dead by his hand. And his only love- she was all his, forever.

His vision reached out, took her hand so gently. He could almost feel her hand in his, her skin so… so soft. He hadn't felt it in so long. His hands shook, and he reached out.

And then, the vision erupted back into flames with the click of Bill's fingers.

Gideon stood, spellbound, holding a breath he didn't think he could let go. The teal flames still flickering in the back of his mind.

‘Yup, I knew you'd pick up what I was puttin’ down, kiddo.’ Bill flipped himself upright and straightened his little bow tie.

‘It’s about time you got everything you deserve, isn't it?’

All at once, Gideon seemed to snap out of his stupor. He blinked, shook his head. He took a step back again, swallowing down the lump in his throat. No- no… this had to be too good to be true. The devil was a tempter, he knew this much. But if there was a chance- the smallest chance- that this future could come to pass... He hardened his expression as best he could, trying to gain back his swiped upper hand.

‘But wait.. what would you get outta all of this? There's no way you'd be helpin’ me just outta the ‘goodness of your heart’… if you even have one of those.’

‘HAHA! You got me there!’ Bill swiped at him playfully. ‘But I'll have you know I have at least NINE hearts, and several other heart-adjacent organs! Wanna see?’ He wiggled his fingers before sticking one hand straight down into himself- a horrific CRACK sounded along with a spray of what looked like television static, a horrible thick black something trickling out to the floor down his arm- up to the elbow in his chest. It took all of Gideon's willpower not to scream.

‘Answer the question!’ He snapped. Bill huffed, let his hand flop out of his body- the relief when he didn't drag some sort of horrific organ out was palpable. He brushed himself down, the wound closing as easily as it had appeared.

‘Okay, sheesh! Keep your hair on.’ Bill rolled his eye, leaning forward. ‘Obviously, I wouldn’t do it for free. We can do a trade. I’ve got some stuff I need to finish up in the physical realm, see. So I’d just-’ He mimed jumping with his fingers. ‘- hop on into your body for a bit. Temporary possession.’

‘My body-!?’ Gideon clasped his hands over his heart, realizing his back was pushed against the wall again. Bill wanted to POSSESS him?

‘Yeah! Geez, you look like you’re going to pop an ulcer, kid. You wouldn’t be in it, obviously!’ He scoffed. ‘We take you out, put me in, you get all my powers an’ I get to use your chubby little hands to finish some personal business. I won’t even keep it that long. Think of it like a vacation! And when I’m done with it, you get my powers for keeps. There’s basically no downside!’

Bill floated down to the floor and folded his hands together. He shrugged. 'It's all up to you now, kid.'

Gideon got very quiet. He took in a deep breath, then hopped up to sit on the edge of the metal slab they called a ‘bed’ in here. He fiddled with the fringe of his blanket, chewing on the inside of his cheek in thought. Bill was surprisingly silent as he watched him struggle with this. Then, he hopped up next to him on the cot.

‘Listen to me, Gideon. You've always known you were different, right? I mean, hey. You were born a freak. I get it! I was born a freak in my world, too.' Gideon frowned, but Bill held one hand up to stop him from interrupting.

'I GET it. They only call us freaks 'cause they can't handle that we might be BETTER than them. It happened to me once- now it's happening to you too. They want you to roll over and conform, to bury your head in the sand and be ''normal''. Well, that ain't gonna happen!'

‘And it's because fate had something bigger in store for you. Why do you think you were born different? Why do you think you're so much smarter than everyone else here? Hell- why do you think YOU found that journal in the woods, and not one of the village idiots?'

'It wasn't dumb luck, Gideon. It was fate.' Bills voice grew... darker. More intense. It prickled at the fear response in Gideon's head, and yet... he found himself entranced, somewhat.

'I saw you had potential. I knew you were destined to do more than sell cars, grow old, and die. You could be so much more. So I kept my eye on you until I knew you were ready for it. Now's the time, Gideon. I see EVERYTHING.'

He looked up- Bill was hovering in front of him, now. His eye was glowing with a vision of the void. Within its depths, universes swirled. Galaxies shifted in their positions. And at its heart he could see one star, shining brighter than the rest.

‘And you can see, too. All you need to do is-

shake.

my.

hand.’

He extended his arm forwards, and it erupted in a familiar cold blue flame.

‘And I'll show you.’

…

Gideon swallowed hard. Nothing good would come of this. He was making a pact with a demon. One that had ended poorly, before- how badly would it end THIS time? What if Bill was lying? What if their plans were foiled before completion? What if, what if, what if, part of him repeated.

But the other part of him… the selfish, cold, cruel part of his heart burned brighter than ever. Ever since his amulet and his journal had been taken away and he had been thrown into this cell, he’d felt powerless. He had crawled his way up from being ostracised, weak, and alone to basking in fame and fortune. And then it had all been taken away.

No longer loved, and barely even feared. What did he have in here? A handful of schmucks who gave him their seconds in the mess hall? How long would it be then, until THEY tired of him, too? They’d cast him aside eventually. And then he would have nobody and nothing but a cold, dark cell and a life to regret.

He needed that power back. No- he needed more. He needed enough to wrestle the world back into his hands. To know that all he had to do was will it, and it would be crushed back into stardust.

His eyes were cold. He looked up.

‘It’s a deal.’

He took Bill's hand.

.

.

.

[hecksupremechips]

I’m not deep enough in the yttd fandom to really know if this is a controversial take to have but. I think soushin is interesting. I don’t think this in a “omg wow they’re soooo in love and I want them to be together” way, not at all lol. But I think to act like it’s impossible to see a romantic/sexual aspect of their relationship is really fucking stupid. I try to refrain from acting like there’s a solid truth to their relationship cuz the game isn’t finished yet so there’s always the likelihood that we’ll get more information later, but the thing that always gets me is when ai shin mentions that hiyori claimed to be an older student at his school but he later learned that wasn’t true. It sounds so eerily like a grooming story and the way we see human shin retreating into himself In reaction to that hits really hard, like he’s embarrassed it ever happened

Then there’s stuff like the detail that hiyori would always take pictures of shin without consent and would hang them up, or the fact that hiyori kept a personal shin ai for himself that he had control over, or the way that maple is supposed to parallel shin. It all just sounds like they had a relationship that blurred the lines a lot in a way that was very uncomfortable for shin. Moments like the shin ai sobbing and Hiyori saying “no don’t be like that show me your cool side shin!” and shin reacting to that, it’s like hiyori is trying to praise shin while hurting him. Seems way too much like a common occurrence

I think also (but maybe im just projecting) that shin is pretty queer coded in a lot of ways (hot springs scene, soft-natured personality that he tries to smother, his relationship with hiyori paralleling a romantic one, etc) and I think this plays into his relationship with hiyori a lot. Because of gender roles and toxic masculinity bullshit, i really doubt shins soft personality was allowed to fly under the radar for most people, so he was isolated a lot. Hiyori probably made him feel special at first with the way he seemed to like this about shin, but it becomes pretty clear that hiyori loves to fawn over shin and treat him like a cute baby and really only loves shins personality cuz he sees it as easy to take advantage of. I think it’s really easy to imagine a scenario where shin is a closeted teenager who finally has someone he feels he can confide in and hiyori blurs the lines between romantic and platonic a lot and shin latches onto this because he wants to feel like he can be loved by another boy and thinks this is his only shot. It’s way too common and all the pieces just fit right into place, you know? And I’m aware of the line where shin says hiyori is like an older brother to him but imo I think these two things can actually perfectly coexist cuz again, theres blurring of lines going on cuz this is an abusive relationship and feelings are being toyed with constantly

Basically all this to say, I very much think it’s likely that there was a romantic and sexual aspect to this relationship going on. I wouldn’t say they were labeling themselves as boyfriends or anything, more like it was a vague mess that hiyori refused to elaborate on. I don’t ship these two cuz I think it’s pretty clear shin wants out of this relationship, but I think inherently being mad someone wants to explore the idea of them having this kinda relationship is really ignorant and is only gonna result in only shallow ass takes about abusive relationships being allowed

[agaypanic]

Benny x reader story where the reader has a nightmare of Benny dying but luckily he's there to comfort/reassure her that he's ok and fine

Pinky Promise (Benny Weir X Reader)

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Summary: Doing what you and the gang do, it’s inevitable that you have nightmares every once in a while. Benny doesn’t survive your latest terror, but thankfully, he’s there when you wake up.

A/N: im a few days late but thank you for 1k followers!!! it means so much to me! Ily all, even the blank/dead accounts and porn bots <333

***

You let Benny out of your sight for a second, and he was nowhere to be found. Typical, the boy liked to wander off when something exciting or suspicious caught his eye. But now was not the time to split up.

The two of you had been tracking what you believed to be a werewolf into the woods. You felt like you should’ve waited until the rest of your friends were available to help, but Benny convinced you to check it out. He seemed so excited; you didn’t wanna let him down.

You couldn’t shout for him. You didn’t wanna risk having some beast come after you. But you felt a pull in a certain direction, like you were supposed to go this way to find your boyfriend, so you quietly trekked through the trees. There were no signs of Benny, worrying you more.

“Come on, Benny. Where are you?” You muttered under your breath, quickening your pace. Everything was silent and dark. Deciding to take the risk of being noticed, you took out your flashlight to aid you in your search.

What you found was horrifying.

“Oh my god, Benny!” You ran towards the boy, who lay in the dirt, grasping at his torso. When you kneeled beside him, you noticed his labored breathing and hand that was covered in something wet. “Benny, what happened?” 

“Werewolf found me,” Benny said with a strained voice. “Got me good.”

That’s when you realized that the wetness on your boyfriend’s hand was red, and blood was seeping through the shirt that he was clutching. You started to shake, vision blurring, seeing just how bad the werewolf had gotten him.

“Benny…” It was the only thing you could say, repeating it as if it was a spell that could heal him. But instead, Benny’s breath became more shallow.

“I’m sorry, N/n.” He whispered. “I shouldn’t have wandered off.”

“No! No, no, no, don’t apologize. Benny, you’re gonna be okay.”

You both knew that wasn’t true.

Benny took a deep, seemingly painful breath, a look of fear taking over as his gaze fell to something behind you. He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out.

A growling sounded behind you, and your breath caught in your throat. Slowly, you looked over your shoulder. A pair of bright eyes surrounded by dark fur and snarling fangs stared you down.

“Y/n.” Benny wheezed, but you couldn’t tear your eyes away from the animal inching towards you. You were frozen in your spot on the ground. “Y/n.” Benny’s voice was louder, trying to grab your attention. 

The beast launched forward, mouth wide open and ready to fit around your head. You screamed, but it didn’t even flinch, still flying toward you.

“Y/n!”

You gasped in shock, bolting upright. Instead of being in the woods about to be ravaged by a werewolf with your dying boyfriend, you were sitting in your bed while your very much alive boyfriend fretted over you.

“Are you okay?” Benny asked, clearly worried. “You started thrashing around and muttering stuff and- Oh!” You threw yourself onto Benny, relief coursing through you. Benny kept you close to him as he adjusted himself to sit against your headboard, hands running up and down your back and through your hair in soothing motions. “What happened?” He asked, more gently now that you were calmer.

“You were dying.” You muttered into his shoulder. “You wandered off and got yourself slashed up by a werewolf.” Your grip on him tightened. Although the visuals of your dream were slowly fading, the feeling of fear and despair more than lingered.

“Well, I’m here now,” Benny responded, kissing your head. “I’m perfectly fine, Y/n. I promise.”

“But you might not be.” You didn’t wanna think about that possibility, but you couldn’t help it. “What if one day you do get mauled by a werewolf? Or you wander off somewhere and get hurt, and I can’t get to you in time? Or maybe-”

“That’s not gonna happen.” Benny firmly stated, coaxing you out of the crook of his neck.

“But you never know if-”

“I won’t let it happen.” Benny placed his hands on the sides of your head, ensuring you wouldn’t shy away from the eye contact he gave you. “I promise to be extra, extra careful whenever we go out on supernatural adventures. And I promise to never wander off into the face of danger alone.”

“Pinky promise?” You asked, a grin forming as you held your hand up. Benny interlocked his pinky with yours, mirroring your expression.

“Pinky promise.” He squeezed your pinky with his own before kissing you to seal the promise.

[rascal-xo]

Out Of Reach - Simon Riley x Female Reader

Summary: Simon has to do the hardest thing he’s ever had to; let you go.

Warnings: DEATH, angst. pure sadness im sorry 💀

Tags: @pukbadger @fiveshelmet @myguiltypleasures21 @madamemelaninn @emmaadlerrichtofen1 @swissy23 @thatchickwiththecamera @glitterypirateduck @glitteryeggalmondherring

A/N: This is a part 2 to Ticking Bomb requested by @glitteryeggalmondherring

Simon sits alone in his small room on the base, the weight of loss still heavy upon his shoulders. The room feels suffocating, as if it echoes the emptiness within his heart.

His eyes fixate on the box that rests on the table before him, a box that holds the remnants of your life, the belongings that remain.

With a hesitant hand, he reaches for the box, his fingertips grazing its surface. The captain’s act of giving him this precious collection of your belongings is both a solace and a painful reminder. As he lifts the lid, his heart skips a beat, knowing that these are the only things he has left of you.

His eyes are drawn to the gleam of metal within the box, catching the light in a bittersweet manner. Simon carefully retrieves the dog tags, delicately holding them in his palm.

The weight of the tags feels substantial, as if they carry not only your name but also the weight of your unwavering dedication and sacrifice.

He traces his thumb over the embossed letters, etching the memory of your name into his consciousness.

Ghost’s fingers grip tightly onto the dog tags, his knuckles turning white with the intensity of his emotions. As he sits alone, consumed by grief, a knock on his door brings him back to the present. He glances up to see Price standing there, his face etched with a mixture of sorrow and resolve.

“Simon,” Price’s voice is gentle, but it carries the weight of the world, “Y/N’s body has been brought back into base custody. There’s gonna be a small burial tonight. Just the group.”

A surge of anger courses through Ghost’s veins, threatening to overwhelm him. The very idea of a funeral, of saying goodbye to you, feels like another cruel twist of fate. His silence is a shield, a wall he puts up to protect himself from the raw intensity of his emotions.

His heart aches with an uncontainable pain, and his anger simmers beneath the surface, a smoldering fire threatening to consume him. The unfairness of it all is a bitter pill to swallow. He was supposed to protect you, to keep you safe, but the world had different plans.

Price’s understanding gaze lingers, but Ghost’s response remains muted. Words fail to encapsulate the depth of his anguish, the overwhelming sense of loss that washes over him.

How can he express the rage that burns within him, the feeling that everything he has ever known is pain and now the one thing he loved has been cruelly taken away?

He clenches his jaw, his grip on the dog tags tightening, as if holding onto them can somehow anchor him in this storm of emotions. The weight of his grief feels insurmountable, threatening to consume him whole.

As Price finally turns to leave, Ghost’s anger flickers like a flame in the darkness.

Ghost's ears catch the distant rumble of thunder, a sound that seems to reverberate through the walls of his room. He turns his gaze towards the window, his mind momentarily transported to a different time, a memory that offers a glimmer of solace amidst the storm of emotions.

As the rain begins to fall, memories of you and him on watch together under the night sky flood his thoughts. The way you joked about his balaclava practically water boarding him from how soaked you both were from standing out in the rain.

He took that time for granted and now all that was left was the regret of not making more out of it.

Simon stands at a distance from the burial site, his gaze fixed on the somber scene unfolding before him. The world seems to blur around him, as if he’s trapped in a haze of grief and disbelief. The weight of the moment settles heavily upon his shoulders, threatening to pull him under.

In the midst of the blur, Johnny’s voice cuts through the fog, calling out to him, trying to bring him back to the present. Simon’s eyes shift towards him, the glossiness in Johnny’s eyes reflecting the shared pain they both carry. The reality of the situation crashes down upon him, a finality that he struggles to accept.

“Lt? We’re gonna close it up… if you want to say any last things.” As Johnny speaks, his voice low and filled with a tender concern, Simon’s mind jolts back to the present. He realizes that this is his last chance to say goodbye, to give voice to the thoughts and emotions that swirl within him. But his body remains frozen, unable to respond, his grief stealing his words and rendering him immobile.

Simon’s heart pounds in his chest, a tumultuous storm of emotions raging within him. His longing to express his love, his sorrow, and his regrets clashes with the crippling weight of grief. His throat feels dry, his voice trapped within him, struggling to find its way out.

He locks eyes with Johnny, the unspoken connection between them conveying more than words ever could. In that moment, Johnny understands, the depth of their shared loss etched upon his face. There is no need for words—they both carry the weight of their grief, and sometimes silence speaks louder than any farewell.

As the gravesite is prepared to be closed, Simon’s heart clenches with a mix of pain and resignation. He knows that once that final mound of earth is in place, it will forever separate him from your physical presence. It will mark the end of an era, leaving only memories and the ache of an empty space in his soul.

There under the moon, Simon comes day after day to sit at your grave, still unable to say goodbye.

Unable to let you go.

———————

A/N: ahh I cannot to write anymore sad fics for a while after this one :((

[possibilistfanfiction]

legitimately fuckin obsessed with the avatrice football au my dude. that last snippet brought me pure JOY im tellin you what

[well here's some ava pov while i procrastinate ch3 plot lol, s/o to @unicyclehippo for the worst/best gay pun of all time, love u. honestly this is long enough to put on ao3 so ... i'll do that in a footy au series i suppose for context... justice for chanel lol]

///

waking up from your first surgery is a blur, mostly an inexplicable terror when you can’t feel your legs, when you can barely move your fingers. tears leak from your eyes and you can’t wipe them, can only let them roll down into your temples. but then there’s a hand in yours, and chanel’s comforting touch, her voice soft.

‘it’ll be okay, ava,’ she says.

it won’t be okay, you’re certain of it, because you’d been taken straight from the field to the hospital, and then right into surgery, your kit cut off so that they didn’t move your spine more than you already had. you love football; you love football, the feeling of being so at home in your body, the feeling of going fast and the delight of the burn in your muscles, of not being afraid of anything.

‘i’m really scared.’ you look at chanel, showered and gorgeous, in a team issued bomber that seems impossibly elegant, even now. 

‘yeah,’ she grants, swipes her thumb against your cheeks and into your hair, catching your tears. she grabs a tissue and wipes your nose, which, from anyone else, would be absolutely horrifying, but she does it with so little fanfare and you’re in pain and also not pain — the worse option — you can’t even really care. she’s your favorite teammate: kind and brave and funny. she’s your friend. ’you’re gonna get through this, though.’

‘i don’t — i don’t want to.’

you don’t even quite know what you mean, still out of it because of pain meds and anesthesia, but chanel sighs gently.

‘you will. one day, you will.’

/

you don’t, not for a long time. after your fifth surgery you kind of tell yourself that you’ve definitely given up on football; they move you to a long-term rehab facility specifically for spine injuries, which is better than the hospital for sure, but it’s still hours and hours of physical and occupational therapy that leaves you feeling discouraged more often that not. once the inflammation starts to go down in your spine, you start to, at least, regain some function in your arms and hands, and after your sixth surgery, things are, you’ll admit, more hopeful. at the very least, you’ll be able to do things like use a manual chair and cook and type emails. 

you’re not great at texting yet; your occupational therapist is always telling you that if you worked on writing, and holding cutlery, and even more boring, pointless shit like pick up sticks, you’d have an easier time, but, whatever, you can type with the pointer finger of your right hand and it gets the job done. chanel visits as often as she can, most days in the late morning, which feels particularly generous in the off season when she could be being glamorous somewhere else, probably invited to paris fashion week or something. she brings makeup — expensive, beautiful makeup — and doesn’t seem to care when you clumsily fuck up lipstick or poke your eye with a mascara wand. you know she brings it so you actually do your occupational therapy exercises, but she also brings you changes of comfortable clothes and washes your hair gently every few days. she lies back in bed with you, long limbed and beautiful, and watches matches when you don’t feel too sad. 

a few days after your eighth surgery, your last, according to your neurosurgeon, you wear a giant back brace over your beatrice xin jersey, your favorite player to watch, and your physical therapy team gets you strapped into this harness that connects to the ceiling so you can try to walk on the treadmill and for sure won’t fall. it kind of feels like you’re doing a stunt or something, and chanel stands there and indulges you with a smile while you make all of your best ‘strapped into a harness’ jokes.

and then — you do walk. it’s slow going, the treadmill barely moving, and your legs feel sluggish and so weak and almost not like your own. it’s been two months since you took a step and it feels like a fucking miracle. chanel wipes a tear or two from her own eyes, even though you can only walk for five minutes and are sweating kind of profusely — it’s a fucking miracle, and she understands it too. 

/

‘what are you frowning at?’

she rolls her eyes and pockets her phone, easily pedaling with insane resistance on the peleton next to you while you struggle to get your legs to listen to your brain and pedal at all. ‘idiot bros on twitter. “trans women don’t belong in women’s sports” and all that bullshit.’

you stop trying to pedal because you’re already entirely unsuccessful today and now you’re not able to focus at all. ‘fuck them.’

she grins. ‘yeah.’

‘i’ll beat them up, just you watch.’

it makes her laugh, and you think she knows you really would physically get into a fight — on or off the field — if anyone ever said anything to her. 

‘plus, i can take you 1v1.’

‘in your dreams, silva.’

‘i’m going to, again. don’t even think i won’t.’

chanel pats your hand; you feel it all. ‘i’ve always known you could do it. i’ve never thought you wouldn’t, ava.’

you duck your head, unused to genuine praise after all this time stuck in the same boring, discouraging, painful rooms at the spine center, even though all of your doctors and nurses and therapists had been nice.

‘but,’ she says, ‘first you gotta pedal on this bike.’

‘it’s hard,’ you whine.

‘you’re just distracted.’

you look at the game you’d turned on, beatrice xin currently with two goals and two assists, and sigh. ‘i’m horny.’

it gets the biggest, best laugh out of chanel, and you feel a little something like pride bloom in your chest: you love making people you care about laugh. 

‘fine, fine,’ you grumble. you look down at your feet, your quads and calves so small and pale compared to six months ago; you try to breathe through the immediate fear and the tiny bit of shame that pops up. but you focus, feel your feet firmly on the pedals, think about how you know how to ride a bike; you know how to stand up straight and put on pants and kick a ball. the back brace you have on feels tight, feels restricting — but you focus on activating your quads, then your hamstrings, and you eventually get the pedals to move.

‘hell yeah,’ chanel says.

‘if you try to give me a high five right now i think i’ll get all scrambled if i try to move my hand.’

she laughs, reaches over and pats the top of your head instead. 

/

‘ava silva,’ chanel says, and you grin; you can’t help it. she holds her phone at a, thankfully, flattering angle as you walk along the beach — slowly, but steady: you trust you won’t fall, that you’re strong enough and getting stronger. ‘what does freedom feel like?’

chanel has like… three million followers, and she loves social media, something that your old club has always been thrilled about. they hadn’t renewed your contract, but you’d understood; they’re still paying for all of your medical care, so you don’t really feel upset, just a sense of loss you’re not quite ready to name. but chanel loves you, and she’s so, so happy for you — even if you never play again, you’re walking and even starting to run now; you’re in pain but it’s manageable. it’s okay.

‘it feels —‘ euphoric; devastating — ‘like a miracle.’

/

you flop down on chanel’s neatly made and extravagent bed; you’ve been staying in her guest room — which she had turned into her closet, so it’s still kind of packed with all of her beautiful clothes, although there is a very expensive bed for you — and training until, hopefully, you can get signed somewhere. she doesn’t even look up from her ipad when you sigh. ‘hello, ava.’

‘i have a favor to ask that i actually think you’ll be interested in.’

she pauses whatever she’s doing, then looks up. ‘i’m listening.’

‘well! okay, so. as you know, i’ve basically only worn hospital gowns and sweats for the last year and a half, and before that, i was, like, a child.’

chanel perks up, and you can practically see the wheels in her head turning already.

‘and now, wherever i get signed, you know, people are gonna care, and want interviews and all this stuff. so, in small part, i want to feel good about how i look for this next chapter of football.’

‘i love it,’ she says. ‘and what’s the large part?’

you flop back again, just for the dramatics. ‘i am… so horny. like, you don’t even understand.’

she laughs. ‘JC is nice though, right?’

‘yeah,’ you say, because he is. ‘but, like, girls.’

she pauses for a second, a happy smile on her face. ‘so, you want to look… more… bisexual?’

‘i mean, i do already? because i am? right?’

‘well, of course, ava.’ it’s gentle and reassuring but still a little amused.

‘but — yeah. like, i want to pick stuff i love, my clothes and my hair and whatever, gain back control, blah blah, everything my therapist is always going on about.’

‘your therapist is great, you love her.’

‘sure.’ she is; you do. ‘so anyway, i just — i guess i just want to feel like myself.’

‘now that,’ chanel says, ‘is a favor i love.’

/

‘you’re sure?’

‘it doesn’t matter if i’m sure,’ chanel says, sitting in the hairdresser’s chair next to yours. you have the salon to yourselves; she’d booked you a private appointment with her hairstylist immediately.

you turn to said stylist, dimitri, with their chic and very neat fade. ‘are you sure?’

‘like chanel said,’ they say. ‘it only matters what you want. we don’t have to do anything big.’

you look in the mirror; you hadn’t had the real opportunity to get a haircut in a long time, being in the hospital and rehab and then spending as much time as you could training after that. you haven’t, really, taken the time to deeply care for yourself, something your therapist has been bothering you about. you want, so badly, to live as big as you can. as much as you can. 

‘well, i’m sure, as long as you think it’ll, like, be good for my face shape or whatever.’

chanel and dimitri share a quick glance and then chanel rolls her eyes. ‘ava, you have to know that you’re beautiful, right?’

you pause for what you feel is an appropriate amount of time. ‘yes.’

‘but since you asked,’ dimitri says, ‘i do think this will be great for your face shape.’

‘alright,’ you say, feeling suddenly very excited and a little buoyed. ‘let’s fucking do it, then.’

chanel cheers and dimitri grins; they wash your hair gently, and you feel a little panicked until chanel starts talking about the threesome she had a few nights ago, which is delightful and grounding enough you stay, fairly easily, in the present of this beautiful, outrageously expensive salon, the control you get to have. not that you’re thrilled about your therapist being completely 100% correct, but… she was right. 

dimitri dries your hair and then combs it out patiently, divides it and then clips up the top part. ‘ready?’

‘definitely.’

chanel grins and it’s easy, so much easier than you knew it would be, to sit and watch yourself become. you’re filled with a sense of joy, this tiny seed that grows as dimitri cuts your hair to your chin precisely, and asks you about your plans for the day, and food you love, and chanel talks about her latest modeling contract — in addition to football, which amazes you in a way that makes you feel proud in the very center of your chest, this incredible person who showed up and helped take care of you. you feel your shoulders relax; you feel your feet firmly in the new sneakers converse had sent you, comfortable and cool; you even take time to feel your butt in the chair with the knowledge that you don’t need to do any pressure reliefs or weight shifts because, when dimitri is done, you’ll be able to stand up and walk and dance and run and even play football. and even if — even if — one day, you couldn’t, you have your friends and your teammates and your life.

‘you look hot, ava,’ chanel says, very genuinely, after dimitri finishes with a leave in, then shows you how to dry your hair and recommends a light oil. 

‘go ahead,’ they say, ‘run your hands through it, all that jazz.’

to touch; to feel. you think you might cry, all of a sudden, with your soft hair that you picked, that you wanted, and chanel takes in your wobbling bottom lip and then tuts and pulls you toward her. because of your height difference, your face is basically smooshed into her chest and, even though you do cry, you laugh too, wet and messy and alive.

‘this probably my favorite place in the world,’ you say.

chanel shoves you playfully and you grin up at her. 

‘thank you.’

she waves you off, as she always does when she’s a little overwhelmed too. ‘don’t thank me yet. now we have to go shopping.’

/

it’s not as bad as you’d feared; despite the fact that chanel only wears the most elegant designer clothes — her closet is full of gucci and bottega and, of course, chanel, and a whole shelf of louboutins — but she also loves you and knows you, deeply, and so when her driver pulls up to a row of a few very cool-looking thrift stores, you have to hug her again. she gives you helpful feedback on pieces and outfits and you feel, quite genuinely, happier than maybe you ever have. you buy crop tops and high waisted, loose jeans and a few sweaters you love; some silly earrings and a necklace and a cap that chanel laughs at, but fondly enough you know it works. you find a men’s button up with a bunch of flames on it and she rolls her eyes but you put it on anyway, knot it at your waist so it feels just above your shorts.

‘do i look bi?’

‘you look a little bit crazy, but i definitely wouldn’t think you’re straight.’

you’re practically shaking with excitement: ‘it’s… flaming. i’m flaming! get it!’

chanel groans. ‘ava,’ she says, but wraps an arm around your shoulders and throws it on the growing pile anyway.

/

you feel happier than maybe you ever have until the next morning, when you come back from a silly game of football on the beach with her and JC and a few of your other friends, your hair spilling out of the tiny bun you’d managed to get it into, which had made you laugh, and sit down to have some burrata — another one of your favorites that chanel indulges in getting for you from time to time, even did while you were in the hospital and she had to put it on little crackers and feed it to you herself — and then accept a call from your agent. you step inside to take it, close the door softly. 

after it’s done, you yank the door open this time, burst onto the patio. all of your nerves are alive; in your shorts, your legs look strong again, tan and muscular and capable.

‘good news?’

you’re almost too excited to explain that you’re getting signed by your favorite club, $6 million for the year, with, if all goes well, an option to extend your contract another season after. a bonus: they just hired dr. jillian salvius, one of the best sports specialists in the world. all of your care will be, of course, included.

chanel starts to cry, which makes you start to cry, and she hugs you to her tightly. 

‘i am so happy for you,’ she says. ‘and i’m really gonna miss you.’

‘i’m gonna miss you too,’ you tell her. 

she backs up and puts her hands on your shoulders, a smile sneaking up her face. ‘you know, i happen to remember your favorite player in the whole entire world playing at a certain club.’

you hadn’t really thought past football and then six million dollars, but — ‘fuck.’

chanel laughs, face beautiful and delicate and rich in the sun. ‘i can’t wait to show her pictures of you in her jersey.’

‘oh god, are there any on my instagram? i have to go check.’

she just keeps laughing, and it’s all brimming, so wonderful, right at your fingertips.

/

you sign a few days later, your hands steady.

/

‘well,’ chanel asks, lounging back in bed on zoom, ‘how was day one?’

‘oh my god.’ your hair is still wet from the shower you took at the training grounds; you had raced back to your new apartment to make sure you were on time for your call. ‘i got there early, to play a little bit, get the nerves out, you know. and guess who was there and wanted to play 1v1?’

she grins. ‘no fucking way.’

‘i got schooled, obviously,’ you say, think of the way beatrice xin had moved with the ball, how surely she went into tackles, how precise she was. ‘i did score twice, though, and nutmegged her once. greatest football moment of my life, i’m pretty sure.’

‘what’s she like?’

you think chanel is probably humoring you, but you don’t care. ‘beatrice is… beautiful.’ it’s really the only word you have: her neat bun that stayed in place perfectly other than a few errant strands by the end of the session today; her clipped, lovely accent; the way her calves had looked while she was sprinting; the delicate lines of her face; her freckles and her eyes; how she had been serious and professional but kind; her strong back, muscles rippling under her skin in a way that made you shiver, in the locker room when she had untucked her quarterzip and pulled it over her head; how she seemed lonely, despite it all. ‘she’s really beautiful.’

/

it’s a while later when the sheer mortification dawns on you, but then beatrice, in her weird, hot, hilarious way, seems to dissipate the extreme embarrassment you’re going to be faced with by being embarrassing first.

‘hello, chanel.’ she reaches out her hand very seriously, in her favorite linen jumpsuit and a very expensive pair of off-white dunks and black, cat eye sunglasses that are honestly cooler than you expected, in front of her favorite nice brunch place. chanel shoots you a glance and then shakes bea’s hand firmly while you both try not to laugh. 

‘hey, it’s great to meet you.’

‘you, as well,’ bea says. ‘i — before we sit, i just wanted to extend my admiration, for the work you have done both on and off the field for trans equity in our sport.’

it’s so serious, and so genuine, chanel seems a little disarmed and a little affected. ‘thank you.’

bea nods once, seriously. ‘and, maybe more importantly, even, my deep gratitude, for caring for ava. she’s spoken so highly of you, and it means — i love her,’ bea decides on, after a pause. ‘i’m glad, immeasurably so, that she has people who love her too.’

chanel suspiciously sniffles. ‘can i give you a hug? is that weird?’

bea smiles, a real smile, your favorite, and opens her arms. you resist the urge, passionately, to make a joke about how the two hottest (sorry, lilith) women you know together is really gonna do it for you during your alone time later, which is honestly a fucking feat.

‘well,’ chanel says, ‘i made a presentation of every embarrassing thing ava has done that you should know about.’

‘oh no.’

bea loops her arm with chanel when she gallantly offers, and bea says, ‘oh yes.’ you trail behind them, feeling short and small and bursting with happiness. chanel orders basically the entire menu for you to try and she and bea laugh at your expense when chanel opens her phone and does, indeed, have an entire canva presentation of you being embarrassing, but you don’t really mind at all. the sun warms your shoulders and you drink champagne that costs way too much money, the bubbles bright on your tongue. chanel laughs and bea puts her hand on your thigh, just like that: you feel it all.

[summ6rbummer]

patrick hocksetter x female bully victim

ASKFJSKDJHSLA BLESS YOU FOR GIVING ME SOMETHING TO WRITE ILY (PSA) if you like any of my work, pls pls pls request something!! i love writing these!

okay i got this in the bag. im not gonna use a lot of descriptive terms for the girl in this because i didnt get a lot of input WHICH is not a problem but i dont wanna make this unfit for the requester (or anyone frls) anywayss basically the reader in this is has been targeted for quite a few years, starting in elementary with bowers and hocksetter, then in middle school with huggins and criss. i also wasnt sure if this was supposed to be a ship or romantic or not butt im making it a little bit. but not a lot. im gonna js start writing now i hope you enjoy!! also this might be a little long.

little one

patrick hocksetter x female! bully victim

(first person)

tw! stalking - lowkey sexual harassment - mentions of suicide-

first day of 5th grade, stepper elementary school derry Maine. my mom had picked an outfit for my first day, a pair of overalls and a little striped short sleeve with my boots and some ponytails. thinking back, that was an adorable outfit. yet the way i remember feeling when they ruined it was not.

i had that class with dumb and dumber themselves, patrick hocksetter and henry bowers. i didn't know much about them at the time, considering that 5th grade was the first year i had a class with either of them. id heard rumors about henry and some boys he was friends with being huge bullies and to steer clear of them, so when i walked into that classroom on the first day and saw them sitting in the back corner, warning signs flashed in my peripherals.

id always been an anxious kid, hell my parents bothered me about it every chance they could get. anyways, i was already having stomach quivers about starting school, and now i was in the same class as them. of course, as i was trying to lay low, the teacher decided to put me at the table in front of them. i could just feel the terrible intent radiating off of the boys behind me, through the icebreaker games, through math, reading, science, and even recess. recess was where i met my best friend, Emma. she was in the other fifth grade class, with the other two boys, reggie and victor? i think that was his name. she told me all about the things people say about the group.

especially patrick. they say he killed his younger brother with a pillow when he was five. im still shocked to this day about that. but i remember going back to class after that and feeling oddly cold sitting down in front of that boy. throughout the rest of class, i was slowly preparing myself to ask the teacher to move my seat. so when the dismissal bell rang, i waited for the rest of the students to leave, including patrick and henry, to go to the teacher and tug on her sleeve to ask her to move my seat.

the next day, she sat me across the room, next to a boy named jonathan. i was feeling much better about that class, until about halfway through lunch. i was sitting with Emma and Jonathan, chatting about our highscores in dig dug. out of nowhere, it got extremely quiet in the lunchroom. i stopped talking and carefully looked around, before realizing everyone was looking at our table. my blood ran cold as i realized Emma was staring at something directly behind me, dead eyes and mouth agape.

slowly i turned around, only to be met eye to eye by patrick hocksetter. he had a sca smile on holding a balloon filled with something and a thumbtack. before i could even ask what he wanted, he stabbed the balloon directly above my head, letting bright blue liquid splash over my hair, and down my face and clothes. he erupted into laughter, followed by the rest of the boys, followed by scattered giggles across the lunchroom. i coughed in shock, blinking, before the burning sensation set into my eyes. i started crying, and my throat was closing at the smell and my coughing. through my blue blurred eyes, i stumbled up, shoved through the four boys and the rest of the laughing lunchroom and ran out to the bathroom. before i could even make it there, a hand grabbed the back of my shirt.

henry had pulled me out of the bathroom doorway, and now i was surrounded by the boys.

'hopefully that'll teach your stupid fucking girl brain not to snitch to the teacher about us." i heard a voice sneer at me. i rubbed my eyes and watched through blurry vision as they turned and started walking back to the lunchroom. "but we aren't done with you SNITCH" i heard henry yell as i carefully stumbled into the bathroom.

and they decided they weren't done with me. not for the rest of the year, not for the year of 6th grade, or 7th grade, or 8th, or oven freshman year. and each year they got more and more creative. it evolved from shoving me on the playground, to snipping off pieces of my hair when i wasn't paying attention, then when i hit puberty, showing off my bled-through gym shorts, catcalling me in the hallways, and snapping my bra straps. leaving threatening notes in my locker, as well as dead flies, yknow, the usual.

eventually, i got used to the humiliation, but i was extremely surprised that it all came from me just asking to move my seat in fifth grade.

now its sophomore year, and its gotten worse yet better. im only really targeted by patrick and henry, the other two are really just in for the ride. belch, as they call him, is actually kinda nice to me. we have social studies together. i let him borrow a pencil one time and give him homework answers and in return, he kinda started being nice to me. patrick on the other hand was treating me exactly the same. stalking me through the hallways, following me home, leaving me threatening notes, boring his eyes into the back of my head in class, carving his initials into my windowsill....

but it seems like hes become more obsessed than hateful. one time i found a list of my backpack contents inside my pocket. and half the time i dont even know how he finds out some things. its kinda scary. whos fucking kidding its terrifying. and im so fucking tired of it.

he terrorizes me. i sprint home everyday so he cant catch up to me. sometimes they all take belchs car and i hear the engine rapidly approaching me. all these things build up over the days and weeks, and it makes me feel like im genuinely going insane. i have panic attacks on my way to school, i flinch at people trying to hug me, i just live under the freakishly tall shadow of patrick hocksetter. i wonder how he can be so messed up when we're only fifteen.

anyways, back to present day, biology class. which i coincidentally have with both bowers and patrick. lucky me. i sat two desks up and diagonal from both of them, each on either side. it was the second to last month of school, and we were finishing our human anatomy unit.

i was zoned out, listening to the droning, buzzing sound of our teacher's voice. at the feeling of a crumpled ball of paper hitting my shoe, i came back down to earth, glancing over my shoulder at patrick, who had a grin on his face. i slowly reached down and picked up the crumpled note, opening it and reading it.

'you n me behind the school, 3;30. if youre late, pray you're fast enough to get home before i do. which you wont be. thanks little one.'

i let out a shaky sigh when i finished reading the note. then crumpled it back up and shoved a half assed thumbs up under my arm at him so i didnt have to turn around and look at his face.

my hands got clammy as people started to pack up their backpacks, and i felt myself getting a headache as the bell rang and students filed out of the school. patrick and henry sauntered past me, and patrick let his fingers slideeee across the surface of my desk.. like a warning. jesus.

i took a deep breath, preparing myself for what i had in mind about putting a stop to this shit. i held my pen in my hand, in case i needed to use it as a shank.

as i rounded the corner to the back of the school, i saw patrick leaning against a tree, twirling a stick in his fingers. i cleared my throat and anxiously kept walking towards him. he watched me walk halfway towards him, then he pushed himself off the tree and walked to stand uncomfortably close to me.

'what do you want patrick.. '

he scoffed and started walking around me. 'what do i want? well theres a lot of things i want from you.. if youre offering-' he chuckled near my ear, and i could feel him twirling a piece of my hair in his fingers.

i think that was the moment he drove me crazy. i elbowed him in the ribs and spun around, backing away. i could tell i was gonna cry, either out of anger or fear, but there were tears pooling in my eyes.

'im fucking done. what do WANT from me?? I have done NOTHING to deserve this, and yet you still humiliate me, and terrorize me every day. is this really about fifth grade?? because i feel like thats been repaid for a good four years. what do you get from this? do you get off on making my life miserable like some weird perv?? GOD hocksetter im done! im fucking finished! ill have to kill myself before you'll let me live!' i cried, pacing and screaming at him.

i stopped to catch my breath. he looked shocked for a slight second, and then his face went back its natural smirk. he paced towards me, grabbing my face with his hand, squishing my face.

'you sweet little thing. it is repaid. its been repaid for a while. you just intrigue me so much.. i couldn't possibly stop humiliating you.. you're too infatuating.' he stared at every detail of my face, almost mapping it, before he shoved my face away from his hand. he went right back to circling me again.

'yknow.. it was never really about scaring you. i mean of course i enjoyed that part, you're absolutely hilarious to terrorize.'

i almost laughed in disbelief. ive been going through this all for his shits and giggles. what the fuck is wrong with him.

'it really started wayyyy before fifth grade. it was probably around third grade that i noticed you. i think it was when you were in the school concert... i realized how much you stuck out from all the other kids you were singing with.. and i just became infatuated. i think youre real. like me.'

what the fuck is he talking about?? real? of course im real.. what is going on?

he was walking towards me again, and i stumbled a few steps back until my back hit the hot brick wall and i felt suffocated when i realized.

im afraid of you.

'i dont want to be afraid of you anymore. please. patrick please stop doing this to me.' i pleaded, willing the tears back.

he leaned in closer, if possible, pressing me against the wall. i felt him inhale against my scalp, and for a minute, i felt the wind stop blowing and the birds stop chirping, and i could only feel my heartbeat in my ears and could only smell the sweat and bodyspray that came off of him.

then he backed up, pulled his hands off my shoulders, and stepped away. "go. im not done, but you're done being terrorized."

i shuddered. praying he wasn't lying. i slowly turned my back and started walking away, when i heard him call after me.

'hey. just so you know, youre mine. so youre safe for now. but youre still mine. some things are staying the same. go home.'

i turned around again and started walking home, going over what had just happened. on repeat again and again. what did he mean? im real? of course im real..

what the fuck just happened.

ok so i think that was good.. and im done now so thank you sunshine!

-junie