#one of them to drive instead because i feel like he's been driving for a while

[witherby]

Please help a starving Anon..... I need more Mother Hen Hal from you...The way you write him and the characters are so good and perfect(idc if anyone disagrees), i am dying../silly/nf

It can have anything you wish to add, maybe a sprinkle of hurt/comfort (let's not forget the queers(BatLantern) too/verysilly)/lh

Yeah, you can absolutely have more mother hen Hal!!! This one is a little early in the relationship, pre-Flittermouse, and Dick-centric.

The Littlest Wayne: Mother Hen (Dick)

"B! Thanks for coming to get —"

Dick stops and tilts his head as the window of the Lambo rolls down. It's not Bruce, here to pick him up from a celebration at Titan's Tower he was just a smidge too drunk to drive himself home from.

It's Hal.

"Hi, kid," he greets. "Bruce was asleep when you texted. I told him to chill out and I'd get you instead."

"Oh, hi," Dick says, a little off-kilter. His grin only wanes a little. "Yeah. Okay."

He walks around the car and climbs into the front passenger seat, brows furrowed. It's the first time they've been alone together since Bruce told the boys that they started seeing each other.

"Thanks."

"No problem. Have you eaten in a while? Might hit a drive-through before we get back. My treat as long as you don't tell Alfred."

Dick nods slowly, staring at Hal like he can't quite figure everything out. Hal just shoots him an easy smile, then focuses his attention on the road.

They're quiet for a while, the radio playing some top 10 hit softly through the speakers neither one of them recognizes. When Hal pulls up to order them some food (and how curious that he knows Dick's usual) then waves away Dick's effort to pay, the man can't help but say something.

"You don't... have to do that."

"It's like thirty bucks, champ. I've got it," Hal chuckles.

"I don't mean the food."

Hal looks at Dick curiously. It's probably the fact that he's still pretty sloshed, but he feels especially vulnerable in the car with him, and can't quite keep his thoughts to himself.

"You don't have to pretend to care about Bruce's kids just because you're dating Bruce." Even as he says it, he knows it was mean and dismissive. Dick chews on the inside of his cheek and can't figure out how to take that back, so he stops talking.

Hal doesn't respond. Dick can't make himself look at Hal's face, so he fiddles with the Nightwing charm dangling off his cellphone.

"Here's your meal, sir. Enjoy," says a fast food employee. Hal thanks her quickly, then pulls into a parking lot and kills the engine. Dick listens to him rustle through the bag and sort out what belongs to whom for a minute, then gently takes his portion from him when it's offered.

"Hey," says Hal. Dick pretends he's too preoccupied with opening the sauce packet for his chicken nuggets to look up. "Okay. I'd probably be a little skittish after dropping a bomb like that, too. So, just listen for a sec, okay?"

"Kay," he mumbles through a mouthful of fries, trying very hard not to feel like he's eight years old and sitting in Commissioner Gordon's office, waiting to find out if Bruce will assume guardianship and take him home, waiting to see if he'd be accepted or rejected.

"I think Bruce is it for me."

Hmm. Okay, not the words he expected to hear, but Dick is listening.

"You've probably heard that from his exes before. Something about Bruce is just...captivating. He's got his own gravitational pull, and I'm not interested in getting knocked outta orbit."

Hal pops a couple fries in his mouth. Dick sees his shoulders shrug in his periphery.

"I'm in love with him, is the point. Have been for a few years now, but I didn't think it was reciprocal until that battle in Coast City. But Bruce isn't just Bruce, is he?"

Hal reaches across the center console to gently squeeze Dick's knee.

"He's Bruce, and Dick, and Jason, and Tim, and Damian. He's got a whole gaggle of wonderful sons I'd love to get to know."

"We've worked together tons of times before," Dick says. He's barely picking at his food, too busy trying to figure out Hal's point.

"Sure. I've worked with Nightwing a lot. But that's not all you are. I don't really know anything about Dick Grayson, and I'd really like to."

Hal pulls his hand away and picks up his burger to take a bite.

"All this to say...I know you guys are mostly grown. You're used to having one parent and don't really need another one, and, damn, I don't know the first thing about any of that. But I'm in this for the long haul, and you can rely on me. I don't want any of you believing you're just an afterthought to me. Okay?"

Oh. Oh.

In lieu of an answer, and also because his throat feels too tight to speak, Dick just nods and goes back to eating. They finish their food in silence and Hal gets out to dispose of the trash, then turns the engine again to take him the rest of the way home. As he parks and they leave the garage, Dick throws his arms around Hal. He pretends the stinging in his eyes is some weird effect from the alcohol when Hal hugs him back just as tight.

"Goodnight, kid," he murmurs. "Go take a glass of water and some ibuprofen to bed with you for that hangover in the morning."

"Yes, mom," Dick snorts, teasing, but he detours to the kitchen with a shy little grin anyway.

[pleaseinsertwittyurl]

There are always 2 sides.

The discourse around Louis and Lestat being a victim and abuser and nothing more drives me insane.

Something i don't think enough people remember is that the very same reason the fight began in 1×05 (lestat grabbing claudia by the throat when she tries to "take louis away") we see Louis himself do to her in 1×07 when she tries to get Louis to burn Lestat.

They BOTH would harm her rather than live in a world without the other. They are both guilty of abusing her and each other.

There is an implication that a good deal of time passed between Louis and Lestat meeting and the church. Louis expresses that he shares himself with Lestat in a way he only had with Paul. I would assume that goes both ways, to a degree. We know Louis knows at least enough about Nicki to discourage Claudia poking that wound. He also clearly knows that the threat of leaving is his most powerful weapon against Lestat.

Mental abuse is abuse. And Louis abused Lestat mentally for years. Shaming him, ridiculing him, shutting him out, manipulating him into making Claudia (a traumatic moment for him, whether Louis understands the depths of it or not) by promising to give him what he's being denying him, promising to never put him through what he fears the most.

Louis admits to purposely making Lestat suffer. He admits he was warned that Claudia would suffer and he wanted her anyway because he needed to feel redeemed. He is not innocent. He is not a trapped, weak victim. He made choices to hurt both Lestat and Claudia time and time again.

Does this justify Lestat's actions in 1×05? Obviously not. But we now know Louis was not willing to stop the fight. He taunted Lestat the same way he taunted the Alderman. He was unleashing years of frustrations just as Lestat was. His priority was not to protect Claudia, it was to hurt Lestat, consequences be damned.

I hate the drop scene as much as the next person and Lestat has admitted he will never earn forgiveness for what he did. But if you view Louis as some squeaky clean victim who was manipulated, trapped, and abused by Lestat you are missing so much of what this show is conveying.

We will always tend to paint ourselves as the hero of our own story. It is hard to accept your faults or that you hurt people you love. It is much easier to shift that blame on to someone else, to frame them as the villian. But life is not usually that black and white. Claudia had harsh words for them both in her diary, even before they got to Europe, for a reason. They both made hurtful mistakes with her, both treated her like a pawn in their relationship instead of a person, both harmed her, took away her choice, never prioritized her.

That is the great tragedy. That she never had a choice and was not allowed to be her own person. And in the end, they both are responsible for her misery and her death. That's what makes the reunion scene so important. They have been grieving her and carrying that guilt alone, all the while longing for the comfort of the other for 70+ years. Louis has found clarity in his memories, he has accepted his role in their suffering, he has seen Lestat's perspective more fully. Lestat is broken, totally consumed with that guilt and grief. Both know that although they cannot change what they've done, they can forgive the other, even if they can't forgive themselves. They can love each other despite everything they've done to one another because they cannot stop loving each other. But now they can try to rebuild that love from the rubble.

[salty-autistic-writer]

I wish you would write a fic where Buck experiences Tommy going into Autistic shutdown.

Thanks for the prompt! <3

Tommy is silent on the drive home.

He’s turned away from Buck, staring out of the window, only answering in hums, shrugs or barely noticeable shakes of his head.

“Hey. Are you alright?” Buck asks when he has to stop at a red light.

“Hmmm.”

Buck frowns. “Anything you want to talk about?”

Nothing.

Buck throws a concerned glance at Tommy, or rather, at the back of Tommy’s head.

Okay. This is new.

And Buck struggles with the urge to press. To insist. Because if anything bothers Tommy, if anything hurts or worries him, Buck wants to help. Wants to comfort and reassure. Wants to be a good boyfriend.

But every signal Tommy is giving indicates that he wants to be left alone. And Buck guesses he has to be patient then, even if it hurts. Even if he’s scared that it’s something he did wrong. The thought burns. Did he do or say anything wrong today? Did he hurt Tommy by accident? 

No. He has to stop spiralling. It’s been a long day of work ending with a long evening of socialising. They all went to a bar together for the first time. The whole 118. Spontaneously. Buck did notice Tommy’s surprise and hesitance when he was asked if he would come too, noticed that brief frowny moment of really? before he had his confident smile back in place and said “Of course”. 

It got late. Tommy is probably just exhausted and needs some time for himself. They have only moved in together recently, so they are also still getting used to sharing everything all the time.

When they’re home, Tommy mechanically, wordlessly, takes off his jacket and shoes and makes a beeline for the bedroom.

Buck stares after him, baffled, scratching the back of his head in restless uncertainty.

It’s getting increasingly difficult to not just burst and ask Tommy a thousand questions. Buck holds himself back. Takes a few deep breaths instead. Only after he goes to the bathroom and drinks some water, does he go to the bedroom to check on Tommy.

It’s dark in the room because the curtains are drawn. Tommy sits on the bed, still in his clothes, knees pulled up, arms wrapped around them, head resting on them. He’s not moving.

Maybe he has a migraine? Buck’s chest clenches in sympathy. He doesn’t really know what to do. But he feels like it’s a little cold in the room. So he takes one of their extra blankets and wraps it around Tommy’s stony shoulders. Then, he grabs his laptop and sits on the bed too with his back to Tommy’s, without touching him. They are sitting in silence like that, the room filling with the noise of even breathing and rhythmic keyboard clattering.

Buck doesn’t know how much time has passed when Tommy’s shoulder nudges him. “Hey,” Buck says, smiling Tommy turns around and puts his head on Buck’s shoulder. “You okay?” “Hm. What are you doing?” Tommy asks, his voice slightly dozy as if he just woke up from a nap.

“Not much. I started with a mystery story about a message in a bottle I found and somehow ended up reading about the frankly horrifying eating habits of Komodo dragons.”

“Wow,” Tommy says, shuddering when he sees the quite graphic picture Buck was looking at. “Poor little deer. Well. I guess it’s the circle of life. So, uh, you probably want to talk about it, huh?”

“Hm?”

“Me, going all silent on you,” Tommy clarifies.

Buck closes the laptop. “Oh. It’s fine. I was just worrying.”

Tommy nods, unsurprised. “It’s not you. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Okay. But … are you okay?” “Me?” Tommy says, now sounding a little surprised. “Oh. Yeah. Sure. It was just a little too much today. I didn’t want to be a buzzkill. And it’s not like I don’t like spending time with people, especially your family and friends. I just like to know. So I can prepare myself. Unplanned social events tend to make me a little … withdrawn after because they seem to drain all the energy I had left for the day. Always feels like my stupid mind is a battery that has to recharge after days like this, sorry.”

“I had a feeling,” Buck nods. “And you don’t need to apologize. Or to pretend. You can be honest with me. If you don’t feel like going out, you can tell me. We don’t have to. We can just have a nice relaxing evening at home together. I want both of us to be comfortable.”

Tommy is silent for a moment. “Thank you,” he finally says quietly.

“What for?”

“For being so accepting. For not pushing. For the blanket.”

Buck wants to chuckle, but then he feels a hint of sadness. Because sometimes he feels like Tommy is thanking him for totally normal things. If this is what Tommy sees as accepting, that means someone couldn’t even do this. Couldn’t even let Tommy have a moment for himself when he clearly needed it. Buck makes a mental note to ask. Because he feels like this is totally something they should have a long talk about. But not now.

“I hope it helped,” he says instead.

“It did,” Tommy says. “You have no idea.”

Buck smiles. “I'm glad. Are you hungry?" “Yeah.”

Buck puts a hand on his grumbling stomach. “Good. Because I could eat a whole deer right now, just like that Komodo dragon.” "Evan ..."

(AO3 Link)

[bewaryofpity]

jack loves dry humping and you can’t convince me otherwise.

i think he wouldn’t let you on it straight away, maybe he’s a bit embarrassed about it because every time you roll your hips against his during foreplay, he needs to concentrate so he doesn’t get hard too fast and risk coming too soon.

but you love it just as much. you love when he gets all whimpery, when he grips at your hips while you grind on him almost to slow you down, when you kiss down his chest and he blushes so hard, when his cock twitches at your barely there touches. and that twitch against your core drives you insane.

you’re sitting on jack’s bed after having spent the entire morning out on the lake with his friends and brothers, and you wanted to fit a nap in your schedule since you haven’t really had time alone for yourselves. and well, when you have been walking around in skimpy bikinis, only a shirt covering your body if he was lucky, it was only a matter of time before jack couldn’t take it anymore and needed to relieve himself.

it did start as an innocent nap, but having you wrapped in his arms, ass touching his crotch, his hand travels up your chest on his own, fingers subtly grazing your nipples, was his breaking point. and when he feels your buds getting hard he knows you’re hooked.

“jack”

“y/n”

“hands off” but of course he doesn’t, instead he chuckles before turning you to face his front. his hands palm at you back and consequently bringing you closer to him, your chests touching through the thin fabric of your shirt and he starts placing small, delicate kisses on your neck.

“you’re always so horny”

“can you blame me when you look like an angel in this red bikini?”

“i hate you. we don’t have time anyway”

“i just need five minutes, baby” he says, offering you a cheshire smirk as one of his hands moves down to your ass, groping it, and then hooking your leg over his hip. you roll your eyes at his actions, but you cave in anyway, and push at his chest until he’s lying on his back and you get to straddle his lap.

his hands find your hips instantly, holding you down firmly while he sits up to put his lips onto yours in a heated kiss. his tongue laps at your mouth like a starved man and he’s so turned on his hips jerk upwards involuntarily, trying to alleviate the ache in his pants. you moan in his mouth as you feel his cock poking at your entrance through your bikini.

you don’t even think about untying his shorts or moving your swimsuit to the side, grinding on him like this feels so much better right now. you’re slow with your movements, just trying to feel his dick print sliding through your covered folds. and the sound his mouth makes as he trails down your neck, leaving wet kisses behind makes you more wet than you already are. as he bites at the valley of your neck, a loud moan escapes your lips, halting your movements.

you wait a second before resuming your actions, but this time you push at jack’s chest and his back makes contact with his bed. you bite at the collar of your shirt to suppress your moans when you begin to move your hips again, this time with more pressure and eagerness to satisfy the warmth in your stomach.

he looks at you through hooded eyes in awe, his hair is sprawled out on the pillow, messy and a bit dry from the lake water of this morning’s swim. the smirk on his lips is soon replaced by his mouth opening in a silent moan as the tip of his cock bumps with your clit, and you bite tightly into the hem of your shirt to stop any sound coming out your way. jack reaches up to remove your shirt and replace it with his fingers, pushing firmly against your tongue, and you suck on them eagerly.

and when he looks down where his hips meet yours, he sees the wet patch on his swim trunks, a mix of your arousal that keeps pooling and dripping from your core, and his precum, and he’s brought to the edge.

“fuck, wait” he breathes, but you don’t stop because he’s helpless beneath you, fingers leaving your mouth to grab at your hips, trying to slow your movements, and it just feeds into your arousal.

“just a bit more, jack, please” and you’re so close, his cock is twitching underneath you, your entrance is throbbing around nothing, and you can’t help but roll your hips faster, your orgasm imminent.

with one last bump of your clit against his aching tip you come, a desperate whine falling for your lips. jack is not far behind, reaching his own peak after a few more of your strokes, and he bites at his bottom lip to suppress a groan, but it comes out anyway as his cum oozes on the surface of his trunks.

you keep your movements steady, a bit slower now that your legs are aching and trembling post bliss, trying to milk every last drop out of him, turning you on even more as you see his cum spreading all over your inner thighs.

“we should do this more often” he says out of breath.

“what, making you cum in your pants like a teenager?”

“oh shut up, you’re no better”

you laugh at his teasing and his blushed cheeks, your hands feeling up his chest before you lean down to press a fleeting kiss to his lips, his hand coming up to hold you there, unable to part from you just yet.

[the-owl-tree]

the way i never caught on to tawnypelt being overshadowed in tnp because she was the only one without a love interest is crazy omg. we see a lot of feathertail because of relationship with crowpaw and how that causes conflict and stormfur & brambleclaw r both fawning over squirrelpaw. even though the male characters also have romantic plotlines, the romance serves them more than the women. crowpaw's relationship with feathertail is to show a more sensitive side to him and provide angst for later arc, while stormfur's feelings for squirrelpaw gives him inner conflict on his loyalty and him letting go of her to embrace the tribe.

Yeah!! It's almost like...embarrassingly obvious upon reread that as soon as it was decided that Tawnypelt wasn't gonna be a love interest, that they were entirely uninterested in her and her story. Which drives me bonkers considering she has more appeal and intrigue for the story they wanted to tell instead of Brambleclaw.

Tawnypelt is a character who willingly left to be with her father, who felt unwelcome in ThunderClan, and who's only real relationship to ShadowClan was her father...who then died brutally, that relationship that once bound her now gone and left in a Clan that widely regards Tigerstar to have been pure evil. Tawnypelt has WAY more set up in Midnight to feel ostracized and shaken of where she belongs. Having her be explored in Midnight makes her rejecting Tigerstar later on have more weight, instead of her just being someone who's very wise in her relationships but we've never explored that. Why is she not the protagonist for Midnight? Brambleclaw's daddy issues only come up later, he's not even a particularly great leader for the patrol??? We don't even need to be locked into ThunderClan in particular, Leafpaw is our later POV!! We were gonna get ThunderClan POV anyways!!!!!

It's just such an obvious case of the writers being preoccupied with their female characters only in their proximity to romance, and being generally disinterested in their characters outside of that. It sucks!

[just-j916]

The Guilt of a Gunshot

This is inspired by this post from @ideasarestuckinmyhead! : read here!

This is also my first fanfic that has been sitting in my drafts for about a month now—so enjoy!

Word count: 1467

The silence after the shot was eerie; so eerie that it almost hurt. Sugarboo slowly lowering their arm that held the gun as the adrenaline had started to wear off.

They felt like they could scream, cry, do something, anything to prove that they felt something after shooting Derek. But… no. They couldn’t. Not after what they did. They knew what they were getting themselves into. They… asked for this. They did this for their boys. Even though they might not forgive them for what they had done.

Before they walked to the door, Sugarboo looked at Derek’s lifeless body, emotionless. No remorse. No mercy. Just blank.

Upon opening the door, to their confusion, there seemed to be nobody in the bar anymore. 


‘Did everyone leave?’ They thought. They figured the gunshot was loud but they didn’t anticipate that everyone would scramble. They then thought back to what Alphonse said. The gun would be enough to scare rats shitless.

They looked around and noticed two bodies on the ground of the bar. One of them being the “guard” that they’d seen when they first walked in with Derek and the other was… familiar. The confusion turned into fear as they realized that the other body was Seth’s.

“Holy shit! Seth! Oh god, you—you’re bleeding!”

They carefully and somehow successfully managed to pick up Seth’s body, considering he was taller and bigger than they were. They carefully placed his head on their shoulder as they tried to gently shake Seth awake. They knew that this was their fault that he was like this. He must’ve come looking for them. And that thought alone was enough to make Sugarboo’s heart drop.

“Seth… please wake up. I’m so sorry. I didn’t—I didn’t mean for this to happen to you I just—!”

“Sugar…”

That sentence alone was enough to cause them to pause. They looked down at Seth’s face and noticed that he was conscious.

“Seth! Thank goodness you’re alright! I’m so sorry about everything I just—!”

“Shh… Sugar… it’s alright. I’m alright. I’m just… so tired.”

“Seth, please stay awake… just until I can find Alphonse so he can drive you to a hospital. Where is he? If you’re here then shouldn’t he be close by?”

“No, he’s at the train yard. We… split up to look for you.”

They figured that their boys would look for them. But it didn’t hurt any less hearing it aloud.

“I guess I’ll have to get there by foot. I can’t risk your injury getting worse but I can’t just leave you here—fuck! What do I do?”

Just as they finished their statement as they dredged out the bar with Seth in their arms, they noticed a similar van pull up.

“Is that… Charlie’s van?”

Sugarboo looked at Seth confused until the passenger window rolled down revealing Jessie.

“Ma, how did you get that hunk-a-junk to start?”

The question asked was quickly interrupted by Jessie.

“There’s no time for questions, hun. Just get in the van so we can get you boys to a hospital. I already picked up Alphonse from the train yard and he’s… well… roughed up.”

This caused Sugarboo to freeze up. Both of their boys had gotten hurt because of them? They devised this plan to try to help them but instead they… made everything… worse.

Jessie seemed to notice the expression on Sugarboo’s face and she was quick to cut them from their thoughts.

“Sugar, Alphonse is going to be okay. I promise. We just need to get both of them checked out to make sure nothing else serious is wrong.”

This was three hours ago. Three long, excruciating hours. They sat in the waiting room, embarrassed, ashamed, and just… empty. They had solved their problem but at what cost? The boys getting hurt? Them being tainted? It hurt. It hurt so fucking much. But they didn’t have any right to feel like that. They had to be the strong one. The one who kept everything together. The one who fixed everything.

They had managed to help Alphonse and Seth to make amends. They had managed to create countless goodies for people across their nowhere town. They had managed to keep everything together even when they felt like a third-wheel when the three were in the same house. Their house. Why did being strong hurt so bad?

They were pulled out of their thoughts when they heard footsteps walking towards them. They looked up to find Jessie, who gave them a slightly solemn look.

“You alright, Sugar?”

They could barely move. Whether it was from shock or just pure exhaustion, nodding their head seemed like an almost impossible task. Keyword: almost.

“I… I’m fine.”

Jessie sighed before taking a seat right next to them before putting a hand on their shoulder.

“Sugar if you need to cry, then cry. I promise I’m not going to judge you for doing so.”

With that sentence, everything about their facade seemed to fall as quickly as the tears fell down. They quietly sobbed as Jessie wrapped her arms around them.

“They’re going to be so… pissed at me.”

“No, Sugar, I promise you those boys aren’t going to be angry at you. They love you so much. They are in that room right now, waiting for you. Hell, when I went in there the first thing that Alphonse asked me was if you were alright. They are going to be thrilled to see you.”

Were they though? Would they accept the fact that they shot Derek? Would they still accept them if they had blood on their hands now?

After a few minutes, they seemed to have settled down, so Jessie escorted them to the room the boys were staying in. They looked at the door, scared. They took a deep breath before knocking on the door. They heard a familiar voice, which seemed to be Alphonse’s, telling them to come in.

Once they opened up the door, they slowly slipped into the room, their eyes quickly darting to the ground. Too afraid to look either of them in the eyes.

“Boo! Hey! There you are!”

“Hey, Sugar…”

Both of the boys quickly could tell something was up as they both glanced at each other from their separate beds before turning back to Sugarboo.

“Boo, are you alright? You aren’t hurt are you? Come here.”

Sugarboo walked over towards Alphonse’s hospital bed before taking a seat in front of Alphonse. He scanned them for injuries and didn’t see anything visible. While the injuries weren’t visible to him, he could tell that they had been crying, so they were obviously upset. He cupped their cheek with his hand and slowly turned their head to look at him.

“Boo, I can tell you’ve been crying. What’s the matter? Derek didn’t hurt you, did he?”Alphonse managed to breathe out.

They shook their head before they started to weep. The tears fell down their face once again. What happened to keeping it together in front of them? They don’t know.

Alphonse quickly wrapped them in a tight hug with one of his hands on the back of their head, slowly brushing his hand through their hair, trying to comfort them.

“I’m so sorry… the both of you got hurt because of me. I wanted to help and I just—!”

“Boo… shhh… it’s okay…”

“No it’s not! I fucked up and you both should be upset with me right now…”

“Hey… Boo, look at me…”

Reluctantly, they turned their head upwards towards Alphonse.

“You have absolutely nothing to be sorry for. While what you did scared me a bit, I’m not mad at you…”

“Well, you should be…”

“Boo, what you did took guts. I wouldn’t ever be mad at you for doing what you did. Although, I would appreciate a heads up next time…” Alphonse admitted, smiling softly at Sugarboo.

Seth watched the two fondly as he sat up in his hospital bed. Seth laughed before following up with, “Yeah, I would prefer if there wasn’t a next time. Ever.”

Sugarboo turned away from Seth, chuckling at his words before looking back at Alphonse. They looked at the bruises and marks on him as the guilt began to wash over them once more.

“Boo, hey… I’m alright. It’s nothing that I haven’t dealt with before,” Alphonse admitted with a slight smile on his face.

Tears welled up in Sugarboo’s eyes as they tried so hard to hold it together. Seeing him like that hurt. They knew that this was their doing.

Almost immediately and instantaneously, both boys are by their side, comforting them. Even if they didn’t know if they deserved such kindness after what they did, they chose to bask in the warmth provided by their boys. Just for a little while longer.

[stars4noah]

HALLEY'S COMET- seven.

{WARNINGS}: swearing, wee bit of arguing, LOVE CONFESSION YAY

w.c- 1,379

a.n- SURPRISEEEE SHAWTAYYY!

{TAGLIST}: @lacy1986 @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard @chey-h @rumoured-whispers @oobleoob @dontwantthemoney @n0n3xsisting

i sat in my bunk for the rest of the night, trying to fall asleep but i couldn't. instead, i drew in my notebook and wrote down the occasional lyric that popped into my mind.

fuck. this was going to be good.

READER'S POV.

today was another day, which meant yet another unbearable show with noah. i decided to make the most of it, though. i wasn't going to let anything bring me down.

he'd been in a bitchy mood all day, but it really wasn't my place to investigate or stick my nose where it didn't belong. instead, i walked around the arena as i fiddled with my camera, adjusting the settings and making sure it was ready for the show tonight. like always, i wasn't paying a lick of attention to where i was going. despite that, i could feel noah's eyes on me. staring me down like a hawk.

before i knew it, he was approaching me with that scowl on his face.

"why are you so happy today? it's making me sick." he spat.

i raised an eyebrow, stopping in my tracks and looking up at him. "why are you so grumpy?"

"doesn't matter. do you have to be so happy all the time? it's getting on my nerves."

"yes, because unlike someone here, i actually enjoy life." i countered.

"i enjoy life, thank you very much." he said, looking down at me as he crossed his arms. "i just hate hearing you hum and seeing you wandering around like a lost puppy. you're gonna drive me into insanity."

"right." i said, looking back down at my camera.

"why can't you just be miserable like the rest of us?" noah mumbled as he moved closer to me. he was practically towering over me at this point, being at least a foot taller than me.

"not everybody is as miserable as you." i corrected. "and i prefer to focus on the good parts of life rather than the bad."

"what if there aren't any good parts?" he asked. he was being serious, he always saw the world in a negative view. he hated the way things were going, and i could tell.

i raised an eyebrow. "don't sound so miserable. there's not one good part in your life?" i asked.

he rolled his eyes. "it's called depression, sweetheart. ever heard of it?"

"course i have, idiot. what about your parents?"

noah rolled his eyes again. "you think they care? they're part of the reason i ended up like this."

"okay... what about your friends?"

he sighed, looking over at folio, nicholas, and jolly. "i mean— my bandmates are fine. they just don't know how to read a person."

he pointed to folio. "he's too damn happy." he pointed to nicholas. "he doesn't understand sarcasm half the time." he pointed to jolly. "and he's the sweetest guy that you'll ever meet. too damn sweet. "they don't know what I'm going through, or what I'm feeling."

"then tell them." i suggested. "nobody's gonna know what you're going through or if you need help if you keep it bottled up inside all the time."

noah scoffed. "seriously? telling my feelings will make me look weak. they wont understand, anyways. i'll just sound stupid and dramatic."

i furrowed my brows, crossing my arms. "that's not true. you're not stupid or dramatic for asking for help."

he sighed and looked at me again. "you don't know anything about me, okay? you don't know what i'm going through. what i've been through."

"oh, i wonder why? maybe because you refuse to talk about it. grow up, noah. i'm trying to help you, and you're blatantly pushing me away and refusing it." i scoffed.

he frowned deeply. "i am grown. and i didn't ask for your help anyways."

"yes, you're grown physically. mentally? no."

he scowled. "and who are you to tell me these things? you don't know what's going on in my head. don't act like you know me."

"i'm not. i'm trying to help you. let me help you for once." i said, my eyes softening. i knew he was hurting, i knew he was in pain. but i couldn't do anything about it if he didn't let me in.

"well i don't want your help." he snapped back. "i don't need you or your shitty advice. i'm fine on my own."

i shrugged, trying to pretend his words didn't hurt me. "okay." i said, walking off just like that. he didn't want my help? he wouldn't have it.

i could hear him call my name for me to come back, but i ignored him. i was tired and hungry and really not in the mood to deal with his bullshit.

before i knew it, he was coming up behind me, grabbing my wrist. i sighed, turning around. "what?"

he looked at the ground, biting his lip. "i didn't mean it.." he said.

i furrowed my brows. "which part?"

"um.. everything, actually."

i was beyond confused. what the hell was he talking about? he took a deep breath, and i could tell shit was about to go down.

NOAH'S POV.

i stood in front of her, looking at the ground. i knew that if i looked at her, her eyes would be all it took for me to spill everything i ever thought. which i ended up making the mistake of doing. my breath caught in my throat as i looked at her.

"Y/N, i... fuck how do i say this?" i mumbled, running a hand over my face.

"spit it out, noah. i don't have all day."

i took a deep breath, looking back at her. "the real reason i broke it off with bailey.. it because i'm in love with someone else. i knew that bailey couldn't give me what i wanted. she couldn't give me the life i wanted to live, the happiness i know i deserve." i said.

"and how does this come back to me?" she asked.

"you're that someone else." i said.

she froze, looking at me with wide eyes. fuck. i just messed it all up. all because i couldn't keep my mouth shut and i just had to tell her how i felt. good job noah, now you just ruined everything.

which is what i thought before i felt her lips on mine.

oh.

oh.

she feels the same.

i melted into the kiss, my eyes closing as i gently cradled her face. i knew i didn't deserve this. i didn't deserve her love or her patience or anything about her. how could i? i'd been nothing but a huge dick to her for years. how could she ever feel the same?

she pulled away and i looked down at her, breathing slightly heavy. "how..."

"because i know you, noah. i know you never meant to hurt anybody. you just didn't know any better. you didn't know how to confront these feelings. you were confused. and that's okay. it's okay." she said softly.

i could feel tears well in my eyes, and for the first time in a while, i didn't feel so alone. i felt loved. i felt happy. i knew that this was what i wanted for the rest of my life. to be with her. to be loved by her. maybe a marriage and a few kids to top it all off.

woah, too fast.

i took a deep breath, wrapping my arms around her in a tight hug. "thank you.." i whispered.

"for what?" she asked.

"for loving me, despite how i treated you."

she pulled away with that smile i loved oh so much, cradling my face. "don't thank me. thank yourself for deciding to open up. you don't have to be scared, noah. i'm not her." she said softly, and that just made me tear up even more.

i knew she wasn't bailey. bailey couldn't even compare to the way Y/N made me feel. but the reassurance was the only thing i needed to be so sure about the way i felt.

i loved her. and i needed her. more than i needed air.

"now come on," she began. "we have a show to get ready for. then we can pick up right where we left off."

[wishesofeternity]

The thing about HotD is that it while it absolutely minimizes the agency and ambition of both Rhaenyra and Alicent, this is specifically used to glorify Rhaenyra and frame her as righteous while condemning Alicent and framing her lacking. That's the key difference in both their textual portrayals that has directly led to 90% of the fandom hailing Rhaenyra as the second coming of Christ while spewing the most hateful vitriol at Alicent just for existing. But y'all are not prepared for that conversation.

[anastacialy]

y'know, i keep making a habit of swinging my bat at hornets nests, but i have to say i'm getting so, so tired of people complaining about shows not making perfect sense when they aren't even close to done. we're four episodes into this season of doctor who. we're four episodes into this season of bridgerton. and yet in both fandoms i keep seeing people whine that such and such didn't make sense or it wasn't explained all the way and by god you guys i think maybe explanations might come later in the season. this is something most viewers will recognize as being called a 'plot.'

[thumbalinabarbie]

they are on a road trip :)

[freebooter4ever]

ignoring everybody in my phone, sorry not sorry ;_;

[webism]

sugar daddy!gojo who cuts a deal with you one evening: for each orgasm he can pull from you, he'll transfer $1000 into your account. who has you on your back, sweat soaked and fucked boneless as he brings you to your eighth climax of the night.

who, instead of dirty talk, or talking you through it, he coos about all the things you'll get to buy with what you earn. "can get your nails done so pretty, oh and that bag i know you've been looking at baby," because cocky is an understatement and you're too cumdrunk to tell him to shut up even if you wanted to.

sugar daddy!gojo who pays your rent on the condition that he has his own key cut for him to use as he pleases. sometimes you'll come home to a new set of lingerie laid out on your bed. sometimes you'll open the door to flowers on the kitchen counter, other times it's diamonds.

who sometimes surprises you when you're home, too. he sneaks in as you're showering and gives you the fright of your life as he hops in with you. it's okay, though, because he makes up for the scare by dropping to his knees and eating you out with such scalding passion you barely notice the heat of the water against your skin any longer.

sugar daddy!gojo who takes you shopping with the intention of showing you off. of course people turn their heads when a pretty thing like you walks by with his hand dangerously low on your back. bags hang off his free arm full of gifts for you, who he loves spoiling more than life itself.

who can and will fuck you in the dressing room if you show him an outfit that he particularly likes. no one will notice, bar from the slightly sore gait you walk with for the rest of the day. pushes you against the full length mirror and fills you with his cum, makes you spend the rest of the day shopping with him leaking out of you.

sugar daddy!gojo who buys you a car despite always being the one to drive you around. he likes being behind the wheel with one hand inching up your thigh just a little higher at each red light. you swear he brought you your car just to show off, just to make the purchase obsolete.

who fucks you in it regardless of the fact that it never sees the road. parked in your garage it sees more movement than it ever would otherwise. he hardly fits even in the backseat, but it's worth it when his legs are splayed and you're bouncing on his cock like you have no regard for the expensive leather lined seats. not that it really matters if you mess them—he can buy another car.

sugar daddy!gojo who likes giving you your allowance in cash, just so he can have you on your knees with your lips wrapped around his cock as he lazily counts out the thousands he'll gift you. every time you make him feel particularly good, he reaches over into his safe and pulls out a few more notes to add to the pile—laughs when you moan around his cock at the sight.

[seat-safety-switch]

When we were kids, we didn't have access to cool power tools. Every summer, when the soapbox derby race was coming, we'd break into my neighbour's garage while he was at work. Then, we'd use his drill press, lathe, table saw, all the fun tools. Over the course of a week, a race car was produced, which is more than the workshop ever made during the rest of the year.

Sure, we could have asked him if we could have borrowed his tools, but no doubt he would want to be there to supervise. And then he'd want to help. We'd never get done while we were busy indulging the suburb-tinged fantasies of someone who didn't take wood shop and chose instead to idly worship at the altar of Television Presents: The Fantasy of Bob Vila in adulthood.

One year, Old Man Garrett got a security system. Probably this was because Ted (fucking Ted) didn't clean up the sawdust that one time like we asked him to. The old man must have seen the footprint, and realized that he did not wear size-seven Nikes. Child thieves, casing his precious table saw! Now, our humble breaking-and-entering had become significantly more difficult than "reach a coat hanger under the door and pull the emergency release."

With the help of some of the high-school kids who were taking electronics class, we managed to defeat the security system. We did so using an ancient Japanese technique known as "distract Old Man Garrett while he's setting it, and then cut the wires to the panel." I think it loses something in translation, but you get the gist of it. That year's car was especially sweet.

In adulthood, I got drunk and bragged to some work buddies about our little scam. They responded in abject horror, because I was still occupying the weird hump in the middle of a normal distribution of "acceptable crimes." It was terrifying to them to see one of their own, one of the suburbanites, speak openly about largely-harmless property crimes. What if we had been hurt, they shrieked. Around the water cooler, I would become a pariah, unless I could make amends.

I did hunt down Old Man Garrett after that, still feeling the sting of rejection. He was still on the property, and he still had a beautiful collection of immaculate cabinet-making tools in the garage. I rang his doorbell and, when he answered, I told him the whole story. He laughed.

"I knew it was you dumb shits from the beginning," he bragged. "Fucking Ted -"

"Fucking Ted," I echoed, unconsciously.

"Fucking Ted left his library book on building race cars behind on the workbench that first year. You didn't let him drive, did you?"

I shook my head. "We ran the car into him if the hockey-stick brakes ever failed."

We had a good laugh about the whole thing that evening, and I returned to work with my soul cleansed. It's just a pity Ted didn't know how bad he actually was at crime, before he tried to knock over that liquor store and all.

[gallusrostromegalus]

The Van Has Officially Declared It Spooky Season

---

I've got my parent's van for the week and it seems determined to establish my status as The Local Cryptid by terrorizing an innocent 7-11 clerk.

...I might need to back up a bit.

My mother is an eminently sensible woman who knows herself well, and when The Plauge hit, she knew she'd need some sort of mentally and physically engaging craft project to keep herself from going insane and massacring the local zoning and water management boards (even if they have it coming). So she and Dad acquired a utility van and converted it into a camper van because while they love camping, they're past the age where their joints and immune systems will tolerate sleeping on the cold ground in a nylon tent.

They did a terrific job of it and my mom taught herself woodworking and carpentry and now the van has it's own cabinets, fold-away dining table, and removable queen-sized bed with memory foam mattress. My Dad was already a computer engineer, but he learned the dark magics of automotive software and electronics to install after-market backup cameras, a media player that would take a terabyte hard drive and a solar-powered battery and outlet so they could wake up and just turn on the kettle and griddle for breakfast without having to exit the van into a cold morning on an empty stomach.

Truly, the height of Camping Luxury.

My parents are both in their mid-seventies and my primary life goal is to be at least half as cool and hale as they are when I get old.

Anyway, they take it out at least a dozen times a year and it works fabulously, but, being as I am on good terms with my parents and also finishing the process of moving house, I've been borrowing it to move large and cumbersome objects that will not fit in the back of my equally lovely but minuscule Honda hatchback.

It's a Great Van. Very easy and comfortable to drive. Stunningly good MPG for it's size. The best cruise control I've ever had in a car.

It's just also. Quirky. Mischievous, even.

---

If this van has a fault its that it bears the unfortunate affliction that all lightly used white utility vans have in that the combination of an utter lack of branding features and the large dent/scrape I accidentally put on it while trying to escape a Denny's last Thanksgiving means that this vehicle is one addition of a Badly Spray-Painted "FREE CANDY" on the side away from being the sort of vehicle you see in an edgy horror movie.

It's got the same issue that Doberman Dogs have where they look like the sort of creature that likes to snack on toddler's faces whilst actually having personalities made of marshmallow fluff. This vehicle is unnecessarily menacing and I think nothing short of an airbrushed Epic Van Wizard will correct this. People see this van pull up and lean over and squint suspiciously at me when the driver's side door opens, and then look moderately confused when, instead of Charles Manson, a small, potato-shaped creature with neon purple hair and a statistically unlikely assortment of dogs emerges.

My own two dogs, Herschel the Hanukkah Goblin/Corgi and Charleston Chew The Taco Dumpster Dog, Do Not Like The Van. Even with the bed in it, they have a tendency to slide and roll around in the back, and both WILL chew through dog saftey belts or other attempts to secure them in there.

On the other hand, my house mate's dog, an exceptionally tall standard poodle whom we lovingly call "The Creature", loves the Van because SHE wears her doggy seat-belt with only mild complaining and gets to sit up in the passenger seat like A People.

Also like A People, The Creature likes to stand and walk around on her hind legs. It doesn't hurt her and it's entirely voluntary, but every so often I will feel a hand on my arm and instead of my husband or friend, it's a canine that's taller than I am on her hind legs who wants to stare at my face with soulful, concerned eyes. The Creature's favorite thing is that she is exactly the right height for me to hold her arm in Genteel Fashion and walk around the pet food or hardware store with her like I'm a count escorting a debutante around a royal ball.

---

As it stands, I am set to inherit this vehicle whenever my Honda gives up the ghost, and I fully intend to paint an Epic Van Wizard on it when that time comes.

The other peculiarity of The Van is that while Dad did manage to successfully install all his after-market electronics, not all the electronics get along. Sometimes, they fight for Dominance. The Terabyte Music Player and the Backup Camera have a particularly contentious relationship, and turning on the music has about a 25% chance of turning on the backup camera as well, and turning on the Backup Camera is equally likely to turn on the music.

Firthermore, The Van has a favorite song.

I am not kidding that Dad filled an entire terabyte hard drive with music and the software to sort it via the radio controls, but of all the Early Boomer Dad Rock (Kingston Trio over The Eagles) and Irish Folk and Symphonies and the entire discography of Weird Al Yankovic, The Van's favorite song- The one it picks to play as victory music every time it beats the Backup Camera at their weird electronic game of rock-paper-scissors -is The Liberty Bell March by John Phillip Sousa.

You all know this song already.

...but in case you've forgotten the tune:

Yeah.

The Van's favorite song is the goddamn Monty Python's Flying Circus Theme Music.

It does not play this song at a normal volume.

Every time I turn on the Backup Camera and it manages to turn the music player on as well, The Van insists on absolutely blasting this nonsense on at the maximum volume it's physically capable of producing, which I know is loud enough to be heard from the Denver International Airport's Pickup zone when they Van decided to start playing it from the economy lot about half a mile away.

Perhaps it's The Van's way of honoring the aesthetic sensibilities and sonic enthusiasm of Mr. Sousa.

...I can't help but wonder if the purpose of an Epic Van Wizard is to control this sort of faerie-like malarkey, and channel these chaotic energies into things like Spell of Don't Break Down In Nevada or Enchantment Of Always Have Good Parking.

---

So last Friday the 13th, I get a call from my friend and housemate, at said airport.

It's roughly 11PM at night, and I have already retired for the evening. I am in the exact minimum of clothing required to be a decent housemate and not scandalize the neighbors should I happen to walk by a window. My feet are up. There is a cat in my lap and fictional British people murdering each other in highly inventive fashion on the tv. -But my friend has returned from her friend's wedding,and either American or United Airlines has managed to lose her luggage, including, among other valuable possessions, the keys to her car. ...So she cannot just drive home as originally planned.

There are, as luck would have it, her spare set of keys not eight feet from me.

Being a good and decent person, I agree to bring the spare keys to her so she may get home before daybreak and not spend a semester's worth of tuition on an uber across the greater Denver traffic jam.

Being also that she Loves Activities, and it's her mom we're going to pick up, I elect to take along The Creature.

I am primarily focused on remembering how to get to the airport and not leaving my friend's spare keys on the counter, so I throw on a pair of flip-flops, step outside, remember that it's AUTUMN and my minimal evening attire is not sufficient thermal protection, step back in, grab the first coat in the closet I lay hands on, pull it on, check that I have her keys again and leave.

The trip to the airport is largely unremarkable, save that it becomes necessary for me to put on sunglasses to drive, despite it being nearly the witching hour and almost entirely darker than the inside of a cow.

It's necessary because this blissful darkness of night is violently punctured by a startling number of cars that seem to have installed miniaturized but no less powerful lighthouse bulbs in where their headlights ought to go so the oncoming traffic and sports cars that insist on tailgating me in the slow lane alike illuminate the road and my mirrors with the kind of radiance I'd normally associate with the arrival of a Seraphim.

I arrive at the distant highly discounted airport car lot where my housemate is waiting, deeply apologetic. It's nothing. I say. Once I see that your car starts up, I'm gonna go to that 7-11 across the way that I parked in front of, get a slurpee or something and I'll see you at home.

While she is retrieving her vehicle (an equally eccentric but much more stately Subaru that is old enough to be elected to congress) I rifle through the loose change in the glove box and discover that I have exactly $6.66 in small bills and coins. The Subaru, continuing it's long voyage into vehicular immortality, immediately starts up.

Upon her return, we all remember that my friend had all her camping gear in the backseat of the car and there is no room for The Creature to ride home with her parent, so I again assure her it's nothing, and will just take The Creature into the 7-11 with me. She is trained as a service animal and needs the practice after the plague.

I wave my friend off and turn to enter the 7-11.

I promptly trip over the jutting back bumper of The Van and fall, cartoonishly, face-first onto the sidewalk.

Fortunately, I have a lot of practice falling on my face, and have learned not to throw my hands out but instead cover my face, so my unexpected self-inflicted attempted curb-stomping lightly scrapes my hairline and nothing else -my sunglasses even stay in place- and I get up and resume my quest for a slurpee.

It's well known that the airport is a lawless place, and the 7-11 across from the discounted airport parking at the stroke of midnight is no exception.

I know it's the stroke of Midnight because there's one of those Audubon society bird-call clocks that makes bird noises, and my arrival is heralded by the twittering call of a Summer Tanager. I am almost charmed enough by the unusual choice of chronological device to excuse the exorbitant Airport-adjacent mark-up of Slurpee prices. I stand at the machine for some time, trying to decide on a size for the price and guess what the fuck "Blue Lighting Blast" is supposed to taste like.

The Creature is being Very Polite but is somewhat agitated, I assume because she *just* saw her mother for the first time in three days and then she LEFT with no explanation, so The Creature is on her hind legs, staring woefully into my eyes, asking to be escorted around the 7-11. Even though that's not what she's not supposed to be doing, there's nobody else in here, so I let her hang off my arm and discuss various Slurpee Flavor options with her.

We eventually decide on an experiment in which I try a Small Blue Lightning Blast, and discover it tastes a bit like licking a nintendo cartridge but in a pleasantly satisfying way.

I go up to pay and realize something is amiss.

The Cashier is a young man staring at me with wide eyes, one had over the register and the other wrapped up in his rosary.

I look down at myself.

In my haste to reunite my friend with her spare keys and service animal, I had left the house in the following accoutrements:

Flip Flops. Not matching. It's below freezing outside. That last part is not particularly odd footwear for the weather in for Colorado, but it's an important detail for the rest of the ensemble.

Assorted scrapes, bruises, cuts and welts on my arms and legs that come with doing outdoor work and living in a house with three dogs and a fully-clawed cat that all want to be in my lap all the time. It's cold out, so vasoconstriction has pulled the blood away from my skin, a trait that served my ancestors well during the last Ice Age, but leaves me with pale skin to contrast the various wounds and I look like a corpse that fell out of the back of a pickup truck.

The black Bootyshorts with "CRYPTID" painted in bright red gothic font across my ass, that @theshitpostcalligrapher gave me for my wedding present.

A peculiar but extremely comfortable garment that straddles the line between "Lacy Camisole" and "Industrial-Strength Sports Bra" like the Ever Given straddling the Suez Canal. It is also Bright Red. with black accents.

The Jacket I had grabbed out of the closet, which is in fact, a black Velour Dinner Jacket.

The Tokyo-Ghoul inspired reusable anti-covid mask a friend made me with the set of Coyote Teeth.

My sunglasses, which are shaped like a Halloween Bat. The lenses are the wings and the body is the nose bridge. It is ALSO bright red.

A Very Large and remarkably Humanoid Poodle that I have been audibly affectionately calling "Dear Creature" who is hanging off my arm like she's my Prom Date.

The Very Large and remarkably Humanoid Poodle is ALSO dressed up in a black Dog Sweater that has white bones printed on it to look like its an X-ray jacket showing off her skeleton.

I look like I am taking my Very Fancy Werewolf Girlfriend to a particularly casual Dinner Party for Vampires, but the thing that's really selling it and probably alarming the kid the most is the fun accessory I acquired in the parking lot not five minutes earlier:

The "Small Scrape At my Hairline" is actually a painless but PROFUSELY bleeding head wound that I had somehow entirely failed to notice covering my face, neck, decolletage and magnificent cleavage with blood like a Tarantino Film Extra.

This does explain why The Creature has been delicately trying to use her bodyweight to push me down onto the floor for the last ten minutes. So I don't injure myself while we wait for the paramedics she hoped this kid called to arrive, you see.

The Creature has such a High and Naive Opinion of humanity.

I decide this social situation is already fucked, and the only way out is through, and with haste, before I start dripping on the floor.

"Hi there!" I say cheerfully, to indicate this is a visually alarming but not terribly serious situation. "Just a Small Slurpee!"

The Cashier has entered the relevant code into the register before I finish the sentence. His gaze flicks off me just long enough to look at the total, and he grips his Rosary harder.

$6.66

"Oh cool! I have exact change!" I say, taking the money out of my as-yet-unsanguined pocket without looking and slap it down on the counter. "You have a good night and be safe out there!" I wave, leaving.

I get in The Van, mortified, buckle The Creature up, and as I make to leave, I have to put it in reverse, which automatically turns on the backup Camera.

It also turns on the music player.

I make eye contact with the cashier as the dulcet tones of John Phillip Sousa boom from the van hard enough to make the windshield and the windows of the 7-11 rattle for the nine-and-a-half seconds I have to wait to be able to turn the volume back down. Not knowing what else to to, I give him a thumbs up, and leave.

Anyway, now I know what my Future Van Wizard has got to be dressed like, and what their familiar is.

---

If you enjoyed this story, please consider donating to my Ko-Fi or Pre-ordering my Family Lore Funny Stories book on Patreon

[euthymiya]

content includes: female reader, drunk reader + mentions of alcohol, modern + non curse au sukuna, established relationship, unnamed friends, reader makes one (1) dick sucking joke, reader dips fries into shakes because she’s elite like that, he carries reader

It’s half past midnight when he comes to pick you up. Your face sours as soon as you see him, taking an instinctive step back.

“Nuh uh,” you say, wagging a finger back and forth in his face as he scowls. “It’s girl’s night. No men allowed—we’ve been over this!”

“As if I wanna join your stupid girl’s night,” he scoffs. Sukuna is tired. (Of you). It’s too late at night to be worrying about what ditch you’re going to end yourself up in after lord knows how many drinks, so regrettably, he takes matters into his own hands.

It’s a good thing he does, too, he thinks with a flare of his nostril as he eyes the drunk, mess of a woman that’s supposed to be your ride home. Designated driver my ass, he all but grumbles under his breath.

���Hey—” he looks over to the side with an irritated flick of his eyes as a hand smacks his shoulder. Your friend (in not better condition than you) levels him with a snarky look before she hisses, “You heard her! It’s girl’s night. Go away.”

Sukuna ignores her—because, well, that’s what he always does anyway. She talks far too much to be considered a normal amount, and he doesn’t like the shrill sound of her voice. Instead, he turns to you, gives you a firm, scolding look before he grunts, “We are going home. Now.”

You seem to catch onto the stern tone of his voice because within seconds, you’re slumping against him as you whine, “Fine,” with a pout. “Mean.”

“Yeah?” He snorts, “You know what’s meaner? Nasty men who find girls passed out in the middle of the streets. Now let’s go. We’re going home—all of you.”

A chorus of whines and petty insults makes him want to grab a drink himself—being inebriated seems like the only way your friends are tolerable, but as annoying as they are, he refuses to leave them here wasted.

So he does the noble thing, and sacrifices his ear drums as they play whatever stupid pop song is trending on the radio at full volume down the streets, heads sticking out of the windows and screaming the lyrics out to innocent passerby’s.

Sukuna is just a guy. Not the best, most chivalrous or charitable guy, maybe—but just a guy, all the same. He’s not done anything wrong to deserve this torture. He’s been nothing but a kind (usually) boyfriend that loves you unconditionally (most of the time), supports you wholeheartedly (when it suits him), listens to your problems (if he’s in the mood), and makes you feel special (as long as it doesn’t inconvenience him).

Still, he’s stuck basically being an uber driver—for free, no less—to your ungrateful, bratty, obnoxious friends that aren’t pretty enough to enjoy your company in the first place. They don’t even thank him when they get out as he drops them off one by one to their homes, opting to say goodbye to you as if you’re the one who pays for the gas in his car.

Finally, the last of your friends (who he likes to consider nuisances) leaves, freeing him of anymore radio pop songs and unnaturally loud giggles.

He grumbles as you ask, “Can we get milkshakes?”

“No.”

“Please?” You whine, “I want strawberry.”

“That’s great,” he says sarcastically, “The answer’s still no.”

“Please, please, please, Kuna? I’ll suck your dick on the drive there—”

“Jesus, what’s the matter with you?” He hisses, fighting back flushed cheeks as he glares at you once the car rolls to a stop at a red light.

Usually, he’s the one making such lewd comments and getting under your skin—but lacking in sobriety is seriously forcing the two of you to switch roles. He’s starting to wonder if maybe he should be nicer to you—you deal with a lot. (Not that he’s mean. He considers himself a pretty generous boyfriend).

“I’ll even pay,” you offer.

“You didn’t bring a wallet, so it looks like I’ll have to pay,” he says blandly.

You grin, giving him an innocent smile as you excitedly ask, “So that’s a yes?”

“Are you going to be quiet if I say yes?” He clicks his teeth in thinly-veiled irritation.

You grin, nodding enthusiastically.

Well, he thinks bitterly, so much for no more pit stops.

It’s not long until he’s pulling into the drive-thru of the nearest fast food joint, rolling his window down to order your stupid, late night request.

“We’ll take one strawberry milkshake, please,” he says gruffly.

“Anything else?” Comes the tired reply of whoever is taking his order.

“No—”

“And large fries, please!” You lean over him to shout out the window and make sure the poor worker hears you. Sukuna glares, (gently) pushing you back into your seat as he hisses, “Put your seatbelt on! And you asked for a milkshake, not a damn meal.”

“Fries aren’t a meal,” you huff, “And they’re good dipped in the shake. You can’t have one without the other.”

“No—”

“I’ll scream that I’m being kidnapped,” you warn, “I want my fries.”

“Fucking fine,” he throws his hands up, exasperatedly caving to your request because, yeah, having some drunk, half-conscious woman in his front seat screaming bloody murder about being abducted at two a.m. is not a good look to a stranger that doesn’t know any better. “One strawberry milkshake and large fucking fries and that’s it,” he growls to the other person through the drive-thru speaker.

It’s not the poor employee’s fault, and he knows it, but he’s too tired and sleep-deprived to care about his snarky attitude.

“It’ll be ready at the window,” the man speaks tiredly, completely unphased.

“Yay!” You squeal.

It’s a pretty bothersome task to have to stop the car five minutes after receiving the food just to open the lid of your cup for you so that you can dip your fries into your milkshake easier, but he figures it’s better than a tiring drive home. Or worse, a spill all over his car seats at your own attempt.

He glances over at you wearily as he finally (hopefully) starts to drive home, watching as you dip your french fries into your frozen drink and happily eat away. He crinkles his eyes at the combination.

He’ll never understand people’s unnatural obsession with pairing anything remotely salty and sweet together.

“My friends think you’re weird,” you hum, taking a handful of fries to your mouth as you say between chewing, “They say you’re intense. Like, scary intense. But I told them, that’s just his face.”

Finally, a small smile cracks on his face, breaking through the grumpy, tired exterior. He snorts, shaking his head. “Drunk you has way too much to say.”

“Drunk me is honest,” you retort, clutching your fries to your chest as you huff, “Now I’m not sharing my fries anymore.”

“You weren’t going to anyway,” he rolls his eyes.

Finally, his car pulls into a familiar parking spot, just outside of your shared home as he parks and turns to you. You giggle at him before humming, “How’d you know?”

“Because you never do,” he rolls his eyes.

“That’s because this relationship is 50/50! You buy the food, and I eat it.”

“Yeah?” He snorts, shaking his head—still, there’s something endearing about the way you clutch your fries close to your chest, as if guarding them with your life. He leans over, snatching one easily anyway, smirking in amusement when you gasp and pout at the gesture.

“Hey! That’s mine!”

“Yeah, whatever,” he grunts, fighting back a fond grin before he asks, “Let’s go. We’re going in.”

With that, he comes around to your side of the car, pulling you out and hoisting you up to carry you bridal style as he marches over to the front door. Sighing happily, you admire his face as he walks.

“Thanks,” you murmur.

He raises a brow, mildly shocked. “For?”

“For bringing me home. Same time next week?”

He chuckles, pressing a soft, affectionate kiss to your forehead. “Absolutely not. No more girl’s nights with those shit shows.”

[paddockletters]

redeemed | lando norris

summary: After a messy breakup, Lando’s fans blame his best friend for ruining his relationship. request: yes! sorry took me too long :(( tbh, this had been sitting in drafts for a while because i wasn’t entirely convinced about it (still not 100%, to be fair), but i thought, “Well, maybe they’ll like it,” so here it issss

landonorris

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landonorris: Another race weekend!

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user1: I want to be Y/N so baaaad🤧 lando’sgf: love you so muchhhh!!!❤️ user2: Y/N made it again in Lando’s post, love them! user3: I’d love a friendship like Lando and Y/N’s 😭😭😭

yourusername: Great weekend, miss you alredy muppet 🤧❤️

landonorris: It was! When are you coming to visit again?

user4: Lando replied to Y/N but not his gf…💀💀 user5: THE fit, THE smile, THE overtakes 😭 user6: She really needs to back off from Lando and Alice user7: Photo 3 >>> everything else 🫠

lando’sgf posted a story.

yourusername

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yourusername: About last month 💗

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carlossainz55: Feeling special for being in your post 🤧

yourusername: You should, cos it won’t happen again 💀

user8: Lando’s smile in the 3rd photo? how do I sign up for your life? 😭 user9: She can’t post without Lando or some driver in it 🤮

user10: True that, she’s all about the fame

user11: living my dream life AND looking flawless while doing it?❤️😭 user12: always getting in the way of Lando and Alice, proper messing with them 🙄

user13: what are you on about? Lando and Y/N have been friends for yearsss 🤡

user14: well, why didn’t anyone know about her till now? she just wants Lando for the fame, no doubt

landonorris posted a story

lando’s gf posted a story.

lando’s gf

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lando’s gf: ❤️❤️

landonorris

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landonorris: Free time when I’m not driving a F1 car around the world

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user15: Lando— HAHAHA

user16: where’s Alice???

user17: y'all are obsessed with his gf, mind your own business ffs

user18: Bet Y/N’s asking Lando not to take Alice 🙄

user19: giiiirl, touch some grass! Alice has been back in her country

user20: Y/N’s always with Lando, so he’s footing the bill for everything

user21: Everything, mate—GP trips, holidays, and I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s got him paying her rent too 🤮

user22: I wouldn’t want to be Alice, seeing Y/N everywhere around Lando 💀

landonorris just posted a story.

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yourusername

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yourusername: [No caption]

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user23: an unexpected crossover user24: Oh, so the gold-digger’s moved on to someone else now? user25: Hope you’re proud of yourself for ruining Lando and Alice’s relationship, biTCH user26: Hope you die

carlossainz55: should I feel proud because you went to a Real Madrid match or bad for "L" because you went out with someone from that team???

carlossainz55: nah, estoy orgulloso

user27: stay away from Lando, you slut

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lando’sex-girlfriend

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lando’sex-girlfriend: A little miracle is on the way, and we couldn’t be more excited. 👼

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user28: Nearly had a heart attack, thought Lando was going to be a dad 😭😭😭 user29: No way, she was the one who cheated 💀 user30: 💀

landonorris

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landonorris:  I lost the best thing in my life because of all of you.

Because of your words, your hate, your accusations. You turned her into the villain when all she ever was, was my best friend.

You all tore us apart, pushed me to let go of the one person who truly mattered, all because you couldn’t mind your own business.

And now, seven months later, I see the truth—she was never the problem. I was. I should’ve fought for her. But instead, I let you win.

I’ll never forgive myself for that. I lost her because of you.

—Lando

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user31: lando, you did what you thought was best at the time. We’re all human, and nobody should have been attacking her like that

user32: we judged her without knowing the full story 🤧

user33: can’t believe we believed the lies

user 34: I feel so bad now

danielricciardo: Lando, I’ve got your back. It’s crazy how people act like they know your life when they don’t 🤛

user35: It’s hard to see things clearly when the pressure is on you. Glad you’re speaking out now, nobody deserves that kind of hate, especially someone as good

user36: It’s obvious she meant a lot to you but the media and fans never understood that

user37: We were too quick to judge her

maxverstappen1: People love to talk without knowing the full story. Stay strong, mate, always here if you need to talk 🤜🤜

time skip

landonorris

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landonorris: I don’t think there’s anyone who deserves this more than her. From being the absolute boss she is in everything she touches to owning this year’s CEO of the Year award (seriously, she’s amazing), I couldn’t be prouder I of course I’m the best wag

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user38: YOUR WIFE?!?!? 😱 i can’t even process it. Lando, what’s happening?!

user39: wait, I thought you were single?? How did we miss this??

user40: no… I THOUGHT THE WERE FRIENDSS????

user41: wait a damn minute—Lando’s married??!! And she’s holding CEO of the year??? I need answers 😭

user42: OH MY GODDD She’s literally living the dream!! And Lando, we all knew you were the best, but now you’ve just confirmed it

user43: HE’S MARRIED?!? And she’s CEO OF THE YEAR?!?! You guys are literally goals

user44: i’m happy for you but also I’m crying in my room so… mixed emotions 🫠🧡

user45: Y/N is literally TOO perfect and it’s offensive to the rest of us 😭😭😭

user46: No hate, but also… I’m fighting for my life over here while Y/N is living my dream 😭

user47: @/yourusername you wake up every day and think, ‘how can I flex on everyone today?’ Because wow 💀