#work together again pleaseeeeeee

[vvegart]

[jamminvroomvroom]

give me a reason.

LN x fem!reader

in which… ‘the one where’ lando needs to get his shit together, or lose the love of his life…

hi! it’s me! back again with angst, fluff and filth! i needed to get this the hell away from me bc i worked on it so long that it kinda stopped making sense so i fear this isn’t my best work oopsie! anyways, thanks for being the best bunch ever and pleaseeeeeee let me know what you think - likes, comments and reblogs are so appreciated and make me feel all warm and fuzzy inside soooo you know what to do…

songs to set the vibes: hoax by t swizzle, no i’m not in love by tate mcrae, come over by noah kahan

warnings: 18+!! minors BEGONE! smut, angst!! but also fluff sooo..! friends to something worse to lovers, lando needs to be shot ngl, lando is so messy, max is yet again a victim, r loves wine a lot, alcohol use, swearing, lando has a bitchy gf (we hate her!) for a bit, r is just a girl, p in v, general sex acts, unprotected sex (sigh)

8.2k words

you’re perched at the edge of the booth watching. pietra plies you with drinks, knowing full well that it’s the only way you’re gonna make it through the evening. max sits beside her, an arm wrapped loosely around her shoulder as he glares at his best friend at the bar.

“he’s such an idiot.” max sighs, polishing off the rest of his drink in one. he knows he’s about to have his ear talked off about lando’s latest fling.

“such an idiot.” p scowls. you just laugh, reach for another shot of vodka.

“what do you guys expect?” you sneer, faking a smile as the bitter liquid warms your belly.

“you guys are meant to be together.” max states. p nods quickly, but pauses.

“not sure if he even deserves you though, baby.” she coos, squeezing your arm softly. you thank her with watery, bleary eyes.

lando’s on his way back over now, the pretty blonde he’d been chatting up for the last ten minutes tucked under his arm. that shuts you all up, but the cold air blasting out of the dimly lit booth could give lando and his mystery woman fatal hypothermia.

“guys, this is casey.” lando grins toothily, ushering you to move around in the booth so they can sit with you. you end up sat between pietra and casey, smushed uncomfortably into the sticky pleather. lando makes the introductions.

“my best friend max, his girlfriend pietra, and,” he clears his throat when his eyes fall on you. “and, um, my other friend.”

my other friend.

you didn’t think he could reach a new low.

“wow.” you hiccup, wriggling closer to pietra.

“i thought she was your best friend.” pietra narrows her eyes at lando, keeps her voice light and teasing.

casey is beautifully oblivious, sky blue eyes remaining firm on the racing driver at her side. you want to throttle them both.

“course. yeah.” he laughs it off awkwardly, before placing all of his attention on his latest conquest. it sounds harsh, sure it does, but you know lando and you know how he operates.

“i’m going. thank you,” you say directly and loudly to max and p, who are shuffling from the seats so you can get out of this prison of couples that you’d been so cruelly trapped in. “for a nice evening.”

you don’t bother to say goodbye to lando.

-

you spend the next morning crying into a cup of coffee, wrapped in three different blankets. deeply, devastatingly hungover.

you spend the afternoon that follows on the phone with max.

“it’ll be over in days, hun, don’t even worry about it. he’s probably trying to get her out of his place right now and can’t even remember her name.” max reassures, and while history would suggest him to be right, something inside of you twists with dread. “i don’t know what he’s playing at.”

“you told me that he… you said he liked me, max.” you groan, hot with embarrassment.

“he did! he does! he thinks you aren’t interested so- “

“i don’t wanna hear it max. i went to abu dhabi, flew in just to surprise him, to finally fucking tell him, and… well you know what happened.”

you’d walked into his hotel room and found him balls deep inside someone else.

needless to say, you weren’t convinced that he was as hopelessly, pathetically in love with you as max claimed him to be; as hopelessly, pathetically in love with you as you were with him.

“i know, i know, but he was hurting. doesn’t excuse the, uh, emotional warfare, but he doesn’t know how you feel.”

“well, at this rate, max, he never will.”

-

you’re stupid for being excited for the group dinner you’ve planned. everyone’s coming, max and p, martin, some of the boys and some of your girls. and lando. you haven’t seen him for a week, not since caseygate, and if you’re being earnest, you don’t really want to. at least he’ll be alone, you think. he doesn’t bring his hookups to group plans.

you think, and god laughs.

he’s the last to arrive, the same blonde with the same striking blue eyes tucked under the same stupid arm. you sink your glass of wine before they even get to the table, leg bouncing frantically against the chair. you swear you see pietras lips recoil into a snarl.

“did you know he was bringing her?” she hisses quietly to max, looking at you cautiously.

“obviously not!” max defends, nostrils flaring.

“sorry we’re late.” you hear from the head of the table. “everyone, this is casey.”

-

half an hour later, after having the magical story of their blossoming relationship shoved down your throat, you escape to the bathroom.

you’re fixing your lipgloss when the door swings open. in casey walks, complete with a hair flick and a tacky, expensive handbag.

“oh, i didn’t even realise you were here tonight.” she speaks, sickeningly false. “i thought i’d notice such a good friend of lando’s.”

you suck in a breath.

“i wouldn’t get too used to little old me.” you shrug, meeting her condescending grin with a better, badder one. “or lando, quite frankly. he’ll get bored soon.”

you leave her in the dust, only letting yourself shake with rage when you know she can’t see you. you bypass the table completely, shoot p a quick text that says you’re going home, and wait for the maître d' to hand you your coat. you wait outside the restaurant for your uber, glance back to see if anyone had even noticed you’d gone. by anyone, you mean one person, and one person only.

lando’s looking around the table, something vacant in his eyes. it’s perhaps the first time you’ve properly looked at him all night. there’s something withered and haunted in his eyes, even from so far away you can see it. he seems to be searching for something, something that he can’t place. someone.

you see that same tired face in your dreams that night, joined by a pretentious, condescending smile, taunting you while you toss and turn.

-

casey becomes such a constant that you’re shocked that lando eventually comes to a party without her. it’s pietra’s birthday, and max is throwing her a party at their apartment.

you’re there early to help max set up when lando walks in, better rested than the last time you’d seen him. he’s wearing a loose white button up and light wash jeans that sit just right, curls a crown atop his head.

“no casey?” max asks subtlety as him and lando hug. you make no move to greet him.

“nah, she had other plans.” he scratches his nose as he says it, and you know it’s a lie. it’s been his tell as long as you’ve known him.

max stares awkwardly between you both, gesturing his head wildly towards you when he knows you’re not looking. lando shrugs, frantic silent conversation transpiring between them until you turn around.

“fuck, forgot candles. silly me! be back in ten.” max doesn’t give you a chance to breathe before he’s darting out the door, jacket slung over his arm. you glare as he disappears out the door.

“you gonna talk to me?” lando questions, hands shoved deep in his pockets. he tries to sound light, nonchalant but it just comes off standoffish, an awkward reminder of just how much distance there is between you now, and how much there has been since he made it his personal mission to sleep with every woman he laid eyes on. except you.

“depends.” you reply flatly.

“on?” you can hear his footsteps against the hardwood floor, inching closer and closer. your hands shake as you untangle the balloons, pouring them out of the packet onto the table. you feel the heat of him before you see him, closing in on you. it’s been so long since you’ve been this close to him that you can anticipate each movement before he even makes it, your senses ultra heightened.

your breath shakes.

“on?” he presses, aware of just how stubborn you can be. “what’s going on with you?”

“nothing, lando. tired, busy, the usual. nothing crazy.” you attempt to shrug him off, but apparently he’s not done with you.

“then why can’t you look at me? did i do something?” he chokes out a laugh, a revelation of how uncomfortable he is.

you brave the sight of him, turning slowly until you’re face to face. he looks beautiful, freshly shaved, curls tamed back but not enough to stop them from hanging over his forehead to frame his face. just the way you like them.

“see? nothing wrong.” you smile tightly, wondering if he can see the effort it takes to make your face move for him, if he can see the tension coursing through your veins like electricity. he seems to scan your face, taking his time, before he sighs, hums like he’s finally satisfied.

“so you’ve been busy?” lando asks, trying to revert to your status quo, but you can’t bare the agony of pretending. “hardly seen you since, uh, abu dhabi.”

“yep.” you quip, disappear into the kitchen just as you hear max’s keys in the front door.

-

a few hours later everyone’s had too much to drink, and the party is in full swing. lando’s persisted more than you thought he’d bother to, and you’ve managed to exchange sentences made up of more than three words apiece. you’ve left your circle to get a drink, about to slip into the kitchen, but hushed whispers stop you from entering.

your blood runs cold when you realise that one set of frantic whispers belong to lando, the other to max. you feel that you should leave, come back when it’s all clear but something tugs on your heartstrings and ties you to the threshold of the room. maybe it’s the possibility for closure, or worse, hope.

“mate you called me basically crying, telling me how in love with her you are, and when she gets there, you’re fucking someone else! what the fuck do you want from her, man?” max spits.

“how the fuck was i supposed to know she was gonna show up?” lando retorts, an edge of desperation in his voice.

“the real question is: why would you sleep with someone if you feel that way about her? why are you fucking around? why are you with casey?”

“because i was hurt, max! she’s been going on all these dates, talking about guys she’s seeing and, what, i’m supposed to put my life on hold waiting for her to love me back? i can’t do it anymore. i can’t.” lando’s voice cracks at the end and you lean into the wall, unable to feel your legs.

“you could have told her, you idiot.” max is having none of the pity party, it seems, finally ready to knock some sense into your mutual best friend.

“and ruin everything? she clearly didn’t want to be with me.” lando argues. max sighs.

“if you actually think that, then you’re a lost cause, mate.” you hear what you assume is. sympathetic slap on the back.

“i’m doing fine with casey, i’m finally getting somewhere. jesus, i haven’t even slept with her yet.” lando whines. your heart stops on the other side of the door.

“so, it’s serious then? you and casey?” max asks, skeptical.

“it could be.” lando admits.

you put yourself out of your misery, loudly opening the door to the kitchen. you act aloof, surprised to see them, but the crease in your forehead is all max needs to see. he knows you heard at least some of it. fifteen years of friendship with him means he can read you like a book. fifteen years of friendship with lando has done nothing but break your heart.

“sorry, guys, didn’t know you were in here.” you feign nonchalance. “just need a drink.” you slide past lando, watching the way his back ripples with tension at the slight brush of your body against his. you let out a deflated breath, wrapping your hand around a cold can of god knows what. all you know is you need a drink, and you need to get out of this fucking kitchen.

you find pietra on the makeshift dance floor, join her and your friends to spin and twirl and forget about the man who’s stood in the corner doing nothing but watch you.

-

a week passes. lando’s wine drunk. you’re laying across one of his sofas, sharing with him, and max and p sit on the other sofa. you’re all giggling about nothing in particular, latest gossip, old anecdotes, random shit that no one’s sober enough to not laugh at. it feels like balance is being slowly restored, like the good old days before it all went sour.

“still can’t believe you did a whole lap of the ski lodge naked.” you tease lando, smirking at him from your end of the sofa. you nudge his thigh with your foot, and he grabs your ankle, thumbing over the sensitive skin.

“a dare is a dare.” he replies, grinning back at you, his gaze lingering even when max interjects.

“again, mate, no one fucking dared you to do that.” max shouts, and you all descend into laughter again.

“i did not need to see some of the things i saw that night.” p grimaces playfully, and you can’t help but flush at the memory of lando’s bare ass disappearing into the snow.

“agreed.” you say, drawing lando’s eyes back onto you.

“you know you loved it.” he raises an eyebrow at you, and you stare bashfully into the wine glass in your hand. you feel his hand squeeze, nails ghosting above your ankle, making you shiver.

“got an early morning tomorrow, fuck.” max groans. “better get going.”

you hug him and p goodbye, graciously offering to help lando tidy up a little as the couple leaves the driver’s london apartment for their own.

you’re carrying empty glasses into the kitchen when you spot it, and it stops you dead in your tracks. the same handbag that casey had carried into that bathroom all those weeks ago. your skin tingles, a phantom touch making you burn.

“so you and, uh, casey are getting serious, huh?” you mumble, finally making it into the open plan kitchen.

lando stands on the opposite side of the marble counter, a tea towel slung over his shoulder, disgustingly domestic.

for her, though. never for you.

“not sure.” he responds flippantly.

“must be, can’t remember the last time you kept a girl around this long.” your attempt at a joke falls flat, even though he’s still tipsy, flushed with alcohol.

“s’that supposed to mean?” lando asks, boyish and defensive.

“nothing, just… you haven’t really seemed in a relationship-y place.” you remark, trying to appear casual as you place the glasses on the countertop.

“i wasn’t but i realised i needed to get my shit together. haven’t even-“ he starts, but cuts himself off abruptly.

“haven’t what?” you press, finding a cloth to wipe the marble clean.

“don’t wanna make things weird by telling you that kinda stuff.”

“lando, you called me when you lost your virginity and couldn’t find your way out of her apartment building. commando. you can tell me.” you deadpan.

as much as you could do without a play by play of his newfound relationship and changed ways, he’s your friend first, and he seems like he needs a shoulder. it would be careless, cruel, even, to deny him of that.

“well, we haven’t, uh, you know.” he looks at you intensely.

“oh. still?”

lando looks at you strangely, wondering what on earth you mean by that, but you swoop in with a get out of jail card that stops him from figuring out you’d eavesdropped.

“i mean, haven’t you guys been together for like a month?” you continue.

“yeah but i guess i figured i should take it slower, deviate from my, uh, usual way.” he admits, scratching his neck.

“oh, that’s… nice.”

“not according to casey.” he mutters, slinging the tea towel across the counter, frustrated.

“what’s that supposed to mean?” you enquire, avoiding eye contact.

“i don’t know, she’s just… she wants it and, fuck, i was trying to be a good fucking guy for once.” lando sighs, disheartened. his eyes are trained on you but you can’t meet his gaze, it would destroy you. “i spent so much time unhappy, wanting something i can’t have, so now i just… what would,” he inhales sharply, centring himself. “what would you want?”

“huh?” you squeak, daring to look at him. the room fades away in the intensity of his stare, his eyes boring into yours. the counter that separates you grounds you, stops you from dropping to your knees and begging him to love you.

“what would you want? how would you want that to be, your first time with someone?”

you stop breathing, curling your fingers around the cool marble.

“i… i don’t know.” you whisper.

“sorry, i knew this would be weird.” he rushes out.

“no, it’s not! well, yeah it is, but,” you inhale deeply. “if it were me, i guess i’d want you to… catch me off guard.” you murmur, leaning against the counter, the swirled marble cool against the bare sliver of skin that your ridden up t shirt exposes. “you know, with a really good kiss - soft at first, but the kind that… as it gets deeper, you know something so good is about to happen.”

lando stares at you, mouth hanging open as you speak softly, so earnestly, into the empty space between you. it seems like a million miles keeps you apart, and his eyes go wild, hungry, like he wants to crawl over the surface and pin you to it as he hangs on to your every word.

“i don’t really know,” you continue, trying to brush it all off, pretend that your entire body isn’t on fire, like you’re not itching for something that cannot be scratched. “but i suppose you’d pull me close, so i’m pressed up against you, and then it would get kind of sweaty, blurry… and then it’s just happening.”

lando seems to be bracing himself, holding position, a tension running through his body that wasn’t there before. he’s flushed, and if you squint, there’s a bead of sweat slowly dripping down his forehead, giving him away. your nails dig into your palms, a reboot to your system, and you shuffle backwards awkwardly, recoiling from the counter that keeps you from him.

“okay. uh, okay.” he whispers, nodding rapidly. “i’ll keep that it mind.”

“i’ll put the glasses away in the dining room.” you tell him hurriedly, grabbing the stems and hurtling out of the kitchen. when you reach his dining room, where the air seems to be much thinner, normal, you exhale shakily and book an uber.

“thought you would stay here.” lando strains when you tell him, watching you shrug your coat on.

“can’t tonight.” you reply, clipped.

“can we… can we get dinner this week maybe? just us?” lando pleads, doesn’t even try to hide the desperation in his voice.

“lando… i don’t think that’s a good idea.” you finally give up the ghost, looking him right in the eyes.

“why not?”

“you know why.”

he breathes your name, takes a step closer to you as you take a step back.

“no, i really don’t. why have you been so distant? i know what you saw in abu dhabi was weird but-“

“do you know why it was weird, lando? do you know how that made me feel?”

“no, because you haven’t said anything. tonight was the first night in months that you’ve seemed okay and now you’re being off again.”

“imagine finally thinking that the guy you’re in love with finally feels the same, only to walk in on him fucking some random person.” you bellow, tears slipping over your waterline. you breathe heavily, the admission taking tons off of your shoulders.

“what?” he gasps, jaw going slack.

“forget it.” you mumble, backing away towards the door. you can’t believe the relief you feel, exhausted from the pretending. you can’t even bring yourself to care about the repercussions.

“no, i- what the fuck did you just say?” lando’s eyebrows are drawn together tight, confused.

“you heard me.” your words are hushed, shy, laced with a tremble that makes his chest ache.

“i didn’t know.” is all he can say, staring at you with a desperation that makes you want to stay. you know better.

“it doesn’t matter now. you said yourself, you wanna be happy with her. so do it, go be happy with her.” you tell him, your lack of malice astounding.

“why can’t you fight for us?” he whispers, finally dares to go there.

“i did. abu dhabi. that was me fighting for you.” you scoff at his audacity. “why can’t you fight for us?”

“i didn’t know.” he repeats, voice going up an octave with annoyance. “imagine watching the girl you’ve been in love with for years go on dates, listen to her talk about the guys she’s seeing.” he hits back.

“maybe we’ve both made mistakes, lando, but i tried to put myself out there and got hurt. why would i do that to myself again?” you retort, crossing your arms over your chest protectively. your heart pounds in your chest, flustered at his admission, as much as you try and hide it from him. it hits different to hear him say it to your face; it didn’t cut as deep when you’d heard it lingering outside max’s kitchen.

“if i thought for a second that you felt how i felt - how i still feel - none of this would have happened, abu dhabi, casey, none of it.”

“but now you’re with her and, great, that’s fine, i’m just not sure how to be your friend right now.”

“no, no, we’re not throwing that away. even if we can’t be together,” you both visibly deflate at the word. “i know it’s so fucking selfish but i can’t lose you like that too.”

“give me a reason, lando. because right now? you’ve already lost me.”

when you get into the uber, you’re sobbing, and you’re sure the poor man that had the misfortune of picking you up understands when he turns the radio up - taylor swift is playing - and smiles at you sadly.

-

he’s spinning aimlessly in his gaming chair when max finds him.

“what the actual fuck is wrong with you?” is all max has to say, looming in the doorway to lando’s office.

“what happened to a simple ‘hello’?” lando grumbles.

“you’ll get a simple hello when you stop being a dick.” max replies, matter of fact.

lando laughs bitterly in response.

“just tell me one thing. one thing that makes no fucking sense to me. why are you still with casey?”

“i don’t know if i ever really was.” lando observes, eyes vacant and tired. “she was a distraction and i’m an asshole.”

“well, at least you know.” max mutters under his breath. lando can’t even muster a glare his best friends way.

“i ended it about an hour ago.” lando starts. “she told me that she was gonna go public, call me a cheater, say that i used her as a pawn. don’t even get me started on what she was gonna say about…” lando trails off, can’t even say your name. he feels like he doesn’t deserve to.

“fuck.” max sighs, finally walking into the room. he takes a seat on the small sofa. “what are you gonna do?”

“spoke to my team. they’ll deal with her. told me that they all deserve a pay rise and i don’t disagree.”

“and what about…” max echos his friend, trailing off. he leans forward with anticipation.

“i don’t know, man. i love her but i know i don’t deserve her, not after all this. she deserves to be happy and all i seem to do is make her miserable.”

“mate, she wasn’t miserable because you were just friends. she was miserable because you were ignoring her, choosing randoms over her. you know that, right?” max says, finally something resembling gentle in his tone.

“if i couldn’t even be a good friend, how the fuck am i gonna be a good boyfriend?”

“figure it out, you knob. all this feeling sorry for yourself isn’t working out. be honest with her for once, tell her how you feel. it’s not rocket science, lando. she loves you more than you deserve, so pull yourself together and fucking show her that she is everything to you.”

-

the next week is spent working far too hard and sleeping far too little.

you don’t hear from him, and he doesn’t hear from you, but it’s how it should be. if there’s no distance, you’d have a whole set of problems on your hands, forced on you by a can of worms that needed to stay sealed. it’s better this way, you relentlessly tell yourself.

max and p bring you dinner the night things change.

“you sure i can’t convince you to come work at quadrant?” max prods, taking in the ridiculous amount of papers and spreadsheets that have taken over your living room. “wouldn’t be as intense as this.”

“for so many reasons: no.” you shoot him a look, one that says leave it alone. he nods, gets the hint, and drops onto the scrap of sofa that isn’t covered in paperwork.

“you’ve been sleeping though, yes?” pietra asks, eyebrows raised with concern. she knows how you get.

you hum in acknowledgment, avoiding eye contact as you plate the food they’ve brought. p sighs.

“have you spoken to him?” max finally asks, and you know it’s taken everything in him to not ask, in the short five minutes he’s been in your flat.

“max!” pietra hisses, and he raises his hands in surrender.

“c’mon, you knew i’d have to ask, especially considering he’s been a little bitch all week.” max defends.

“i haven’t. told him i needed space.” you shrug.

“how’s that working out for you?” max gestures to the mess that engulfs the room, swallows it whole. again, you shrug.

“fine.” you stress, digging in to the chinese food. max scoffs and you snort with a mouthful of noodles when pietra glares at him.

“well, he’s miserable, and you’re behaving like someone who’s gonna end up on a true crime documentary, so sue me for asking.” he scolds sarcastically.

“okay, you want the tea?” you roll your eyes. “he told me they hadn’t had sex. i gave him advice - against the better judgment of literally anyone ever, by the way - tried to leave and he fucking ambushed me. wanted to have dinner with me, as if he hasn’t been pushing me away for months, and then had the fucking audacity, max, to ask me why i won’t fight for us, for him - oh! and he still has a girlfriend! so, you know what, you got me, i’m not doing so great but,” you choke out a laugh, opening the box of prawn toast. “too fucking bad.”

“i promise you, this will pass and casey will be gone and then-“

“and then me and lando can go back to pretending and avoiding and hurting each other. can’t wait.”

max shakes his head in defeat, knows he has to let lando fix this himself. he has no chance of winning this one with you.

“eat your noodles.” is all he has left. pietra disappears into your kitchen, and returns with a bottle of wine.

you eat together, put on netflix, slumped into the sofa as you try and relax. you’re halfway through your first drink when your phone buzzes. assuming it’s your overbearing boss, who apparently doesn’t sleep either, you pick it up and quickly wish you hadn’t.

lando: can you come over

like now

if you can

please. please please please please

we broke up.

“holy shit.”

you sit up suddenly, scan the room for your bag and a jacket. you don’t care that you’re in old sweats, you just feel the need to move, to get to him before common sense kicks in.

“you good?” max asks.

“uh, i need to go, like right now. stay and finish the wine if you want, but i just need to go to-“

“lando?” max and p ask simultaneously, and you burn with embarrassment.

“i can’t even try and lie to you right now. is this pathetic?” you question.

“no! go!” max shouts, exasperated, standing to usher you out of your own apartment.

-

twenty minutes later, you knock on his door.

when it opens, he’s disheveled in a way that makes you hug him immediately, his touch disturbingly foreign, and you feel him sink into your hold. he pulls you inside, kicks the door shut, and doesn’t let you go.

“sofa?” you murmur into his hoodie. you feel him nod, and you part, pad towards the lounge as you shrug off your jacket.

“hi.” he says tiredly, as soon as you’re both sat.

“hey.” you coo back. your eyebrows are drawn together as you take him in, concern woven through your features. “sorry about casey.” lando scoffs.

“don’t be, don’t even know what i was thinking.”

“well, neither do i,” you retort. “but i’m still sorry. did it happen just before you texted?” you ask.

“no, a week ago.”

“a week ago?” you gasp. “but that would mean…”

“yeah. right after you left here. asked her to come over and ended it. she told me she was gonna go to the media with a whole load of shit, so i’ve been sorting things out.”

“i’m so sorry.” you whisper.

lando laughs.

“you’re sorry? god, you’re way too fucking good for me.” he scoffs, bitter with self deprecation. “i can’t believe you even came, to be honest.”

“course i came. i might be angry at you, but you- you wanted me to, so…”

“i don’t even know where to start. i’m just so sorry about the last few months. i thought i was losing you and it drove me insane, but i should have never, ever taken my shit out on you.”

“what do you mean? losing me?”

“the dates, the guys. god, it was awful of me but it killed me.”

“that was only because i didn’t think i had a chance.”

“well, if it makes you feel any better, i didn’t think i had a chance either.” he laughs. “so what you said about abu dhabi… was that why you came? to tell me?”

“yeah, kinda. after some… encouragement from a mutual friend, i was gonna tell you that i wanted us to be more.”

lando shifts closer, your thighs pressing together. you can feel his body heat, so warm and inviting, drawing you closer.

“more.” lando repeats, tasting it on his tongue, the weight of everything he’s ever wanted since he was sixteen and fell in love for the first time.

“yeah, and then it seemed like you didn’t want that.”

“you must know by now that i also want more.” he murmurs, fingertips brushing your forearm. you keen into the barely there touch that traces over your skin.

“i’d say that’s been implied, yeah.” you joke, searching his eyes. they’re hooded, swirling with an intensity that you never thought you’d experience with another person. “um, i heard you and max. the night of pietra’s birthday.” you admit.

“fuck,” he sighs, shoulders sagging. “i’m so sorry, i swear, i never meant to put you through any of this. ‘m so, so sorry.”

“i know you are.” you whisper, loaded with a sincerity that only you could give him. “but you can never, ever treat me like this lando. i mean it.”

“i need you to know that i never meant to hurt you.” he swallows down a lump in his throat, voice wobbling just enough for you to notice.

“i do, lando.” you grab his hand, squeeze it tight.

“what do you want from me now? anything you want, i promise - i’m yours.”

“i want us to try, to see where this goes. i think we owe it to ourselves to see.”

“i never thought i’d ever get a chance with you.” lando laughs softly, the hand on your arm travelling to ghost over your cheek.

“why?”

“because i don’t think there’s anyone on this planet that’s good enough for you.” he confesses, leaning in until your foreheads touch.

“i don’t think that’s true, at least not where you’re concerned.” you breathe.

“how are you real?” it’s barely a whisper, barely audible, but it hits your ears like an alarm.

“don’t go all existential on me now.”

“then what should i do?”

“kiss me.”

“doesn’t that go against your whole ‘catch me off guard’ philosophy?” he murmurs, one hand reaching up to cup your jaw. your foreheads are still pressed together, eyes roaming each others.

“you’ll have plenty of time to surprise me.” you whisper.

you take a second to admire one another, the proximity mingling your warm breaths. when your lips finally brush, it’s slow, tentative, silent exploration. he tilts your head so that he can kiss you deeper, fingers sliding from your cheek into your hair. you emit a quiet moan, open up for him so he can taste you, and the feeling of him licking into your mouth sends your mind utterly blank.

he’s all consuming, totally intoxicating, a fresh blend of mint and something so blatantly lando that you feel like you’re floating. you find his neck, threading your fingers through the short strands at the nape of his neck. you hear something from deep in his chest, feel the vibrations of the low rumble as he presses you even closer to him.

when you inevitably break apart for air, he looks dazed, grinning like a fool as he smoothes his hand through the loose strands of your hair that fall around your face.

“i’m sorry that took so long.” lando hums, leaning in to peck your lips again. you can’t help but smile into it, in a daze of your own.

“me too.” you manage between smiling dopily up at him.

“you’re so beautiful.” he coos, still entranced. “you wanna stay here tonight?”

you hesitate for a second. he notices, interlacing your fingers with his.

“for the record, um, she never did. i couldn’t have her that close.” he mumbles, looking down at your hands guiltily.

“why?”

“didn’t feel right. she wasn’t,” he inhales shakily and meets your gaze again, piercing you with hazy blue hues. “she wasn’t you. i think that’s the real reason that i couldn’t… you know, with her.”

“i’ll stay.” you whisper, nodding softly. it’s all you can formulate as a response.

“i can make up the guest room.” he says wearily, posing it as more of a question than a statement, putting out the feelers. you scowl, eyes sparkling with a mischievous danger that leaves lando’s mouth bone dry.

“don’t bother.”

-

the grey linen of his bed sheets are soft against your skin as you sink into his mattress, watching intently as he pads around his room. you can smell him everywhere, a tangy, fresh musk that you want to bottle up and keep forever. lando glows in the dim, warm light of his bedroom and you feel a pang of regret that it’s taken this long to get here, muddled with a sense of relief that finally, you’ve made it.

“‘m gonna take a quick shower, okay? make yourself comfortable.” lando says, pauses for a second to take in the sight of you in his bed.

“okay.” you smile softly, eyes heavy with sleep as you relax further into the cushions. you hear the water running, white noise that allows your thoughts to run wild. the slide of the shower door grabs your attention and you think of him under the spray of water, bronze skin damp, hair slicked back.

when will it be your turn to see him like that, you wonder, musings of him pressed against you, bare and firm, flitting through your wandering mind. you realise, then, that you have him; he’s yours. why delay the inevitable?

slowly, you rise from the mattress, breathing shakily as your shirt comes off. your sweats follow, a trail of your clothes leading to the en-suite door. you can hear him humming to himself, the echo barrelling through your shaking body. you’re frantic with tension, a tinge of embarrassment, but then you consider his beautiful words, his confessions of love, and banish the feeling of shame that threatens to ruin you before you’ve even started. you unhook your bra, shimmy out of your panties, and grip the door handle. it turns slowly, steam spilling out of the room immediately, yet you shiver with anticipation.

“room for one more?” you call, and he jumps, turning suddenly.

you can’t make him out clearly, the fog painted across the shower door concealing his lean frame, and it draws you in closer, anticipation swirling in your belly.

he responds by sliding the door open, and you join him under the hot water. his eyes stay firmly on yours, body opening up to invite you in, hold you close as the spray hits you. the heat loosens your muscles, and you sink into him.

“fuck.” you hear him whisper, more to himself than to you.

“hi.” you breathe.

“am i dreaming?” lando blinks, a slow smile spreading across his face as he not so subtlety rakes his eyes over your frame.

“no,” you purr. “i’m real. this is real.”

his hands find your waist and you loop your arms around his neck, the kiss he pulls you into heated with a slow burning passion that makes you ache.

“you’re so pretty.” he pants into your mouth, firm and desperate - so sincere that it shakes you to your core.

“you’re perfect.” you choke out, mesmerised, alight in his thick hands.

“let me show you,” he starts, pauses briefly to kiss you. “wanna worship you.”

his words make you chase him for a kiss that doesn’t come. instead, he turns you to face away from him, your back to his front. you feel the cool spread of shower gel against your back, calloused hands working it into your skin gently. your hair, heavy with water, is pushed over your shoulder and you turn your head just enough to find his lips. your mouths move with intent as he works the soap down your back and over your waist. it tickles and you keen into him, enough that he holds you tighter, angles your hips away from his.

“careful, baby.” he warns lowly, his lips brushing over the shell of your ear.

“don’t wanna be careful.” you half moan, but he grips your hips even harder.

“not tonight, yeah? let me look after you. need you to know that i’m serious about this.” lando pants, his self restraint thin as it hits your ears. you smirk.

“you back on your ‘good guy’ bullshit?” you tease, throwing him a look over your shoulder. you catch sight of his lip caught between his teeth, wet curls matted against his forehead, and a wave of pure need washes over your body.

“for you? fuck yeah.” he manages, crouches down to lather soap down your legs. his hands roam your inner thighs, dangerously, painfully close to where you really need him to touch you, and you groan defeatedly.

“you’re horrible.” you sigh when he’s back to his full height, facing you once more. he flashes you a cheeky smile, fingertips smoothing over your arms.

“wanna get this right.” he shrugs.

“we could get it right - right here, right now.” you pout.

“patience.” lando cautions, rubbing over your sternum. he grazes over the underside of your breasts, daring to go even higher. you let out a broken sigh, shuddering at his incessant attention.

“asshole.”

“we already knew that about me, baby.” he winks. he maintains eye contact as he cups your breasts, massages them just enough to leave you wanting. his touch vanishes, then, and the elastic band of tension seems to snap. “rinse off, i’ll leave a towel for you.”

just like that, he’s gone.

-

you stretch like a cat across the mattress, the low sun sending the early light streaming through a devastating crack in the curtains. it leaves you disoriented - the sun never hits your own bedroom like that.

quickly, you remember you’re not in your own bed, partly because of the heavy arm that sprawls over your tired body, pinning you to the mattress. his breath hits your bare shoulder in heavy puffs that warm your skin, leaving your tingling as your curl further into the curve of his body. your movements nudge his head into the crook of your neck, his nose bumping the sensitive skin there and he stirs slightly, puckers his lips into a gentle kiss at the base of your throat.

you roll over, his arm weighing heavy against the curve of your waist the whole time. when you’re face to face, his eyes are still closed, unfairly long eyelashes dusting his cheekbones, but a smile is painted languidly across his lips. he looks so soft, boyish, perfectly unreal that you snuggle closer to him.

“go back to sleep.” he groans, hardly opening his mouth as if it’s too much work in his cosy state.

“not tired anymore.” you whisper into the slight space still left between you. your lips find his jaw, trailing across it until you find a sensitive spot just below his ear. he shivers, but he still doesn’t open his eyes. you smirk, tracing your tongue carefully over the definition of his jawline. you suck, bite down gently.

“really?” he murmurs, still smiling like a fool, only intensified by your movements. you hum in response.

“go back to sleep, baby.” you coo, sealing the hickey you’ve left with a delicate kiss, one that contradicts the harsh mark you’ve left.

“drives me insane hearing you call me that.” he sighs, almost pained. the newfound friction against your thigh explains why.

“does it, baby?” you murmur, right in his ear.

“roll over, honey. get comfortable for me.” is all he says in return. electricity shoots down your spine as you oblige, resuming your previous position.

“that’s it, c’mere.” lando rasps, sliding impossibly closer. you can feel the full length of his body pressed against yours, heat seeping from his bronze skin onto yours. your eyes flutter shut, a delicious buzz coursing through you as the anticipation grows.

you can feel where he’s hard, solid against the curve of your ass and you keen into him, arched into his front as much as you possibly can be. your thighs clench together, liquid heat pooling between them. your mouth hangs open as his hand grazes the outside of your thigh, smoothing over the thickness of them before he pulls them apart. his hand slots between them - a perfect fit - and he wastes no time grazing his knuckles over the damp cloth of your panties.

“lando.” you sigh, utterly content. it’s been a long time coming, but it already seems like it was worth the wait.

“you’re so wet for me already. you want me?” lando growls against the shell shell of your ear.

“touch me, baby.” you plead, pressing your ass harder against him. he hisses, thumbs hard at your clit in response.

you mewl, squeezing your thighs around his hand but he forces them apart, his arm tensing as he does. you grip it hard, nails digging into his forearm but he doesn’t relent. he rubs firm circles into the bundle of nerves over your panties, fingers dipping down to press into the wet patch quickly pooling in the lace.

“take them off.” you urge.

he quickly complies, fingertips grazing your hips as he slides the material off of your frame. as one hand settles back between your thighs, two deft fingers pinching your clit, his other snakes under the old mclaren t-shirt he’d leant you. he traces the pudges of your belly, scaling up, up, up, tickling across your ribs until he caresses the curve of your breast, his whole hand engulfing it. he plucks a nipple between his fingers at the same time he slides a digit between your folds, spreading your wetness around.

“feeling good for me, honey? do you know how sexy you are for me, making a mess, wearing my shirt?” lando muses, dangerously low. his voice is strained, a side affect of the hold your have on him, of how entranced he is by the way you writhe against him.

“so good.” you choke, rolling your hips to meet his hand. “need more.”

“more? is my girl greedy?” he taunts, circling your entrance with the tip of his finger.

“please?” you’re not above begging him. it does the trick.

you both moan at the way he stretches you around one finger, the single digit sliding deep. he grinds it into you, palm nudging against your clit with every move he makes. one finger becomes two and you gasp out his name, your hand finding his under the shirt, holding it to your chest. he squeezes your flesh, tweaking at your nipple until it’s hard between his fingers and your ass is grinding faster into his crotch. when he moves on to your other breast, you choke out a moan that tears through the both of you, the tension so thick in the room that it’s stifling.

“c’mon baby, i need you inside of me.” you beg, your voice a pathetic garbled whine, one that makes him falter and suck in a harsh breath.

“not sure you can take it, pretty girl. so tight just around my fingers.” lando challenges, slowing his fingers so that you can hear exactly what he’s doing to you. he curls them with every thrust, reaching a spot that temporarily leaves you blinded in the throes of his searing touch. “you’re gonna cum for me like this first, yeah? and then we’ll see if you can take me.”

“can’t- lando please just-“

he shushes you.

“you’re gonna let me give it to you, honey. you’re gonna take it all, because you’re a good girl, right?” his voice is so condescending, so commanding that it makes you throb around him, his fingers flexing harder and faster as he senses your lurking orgasm. “that’s it, honey, i can feel you. come on.” he urges.

your body spasms hard against his as it hits, any semblance of sleep shaken out of you as you fall apart. he holds you close, rides you through it - palm flat on your overstimulated clit while his fingers gently coax you over the edge. he’s hitting every spot, toying with every piece of you he can get his hands on. the hand alternating between your tits roams up to your neck squeezing briefly, just to tease, before he cups your jaw, turning your head enough so he can capture your lips in a feral kiss. it’s needy, full of greed as he swallows your cries of pleasure, keeps them all for himself.

when you go limp against him, the coils of tension finally loosening, he slips his fingers out slowly. you’re panting against his chest, descending back to reality, when you hear the telltale hum, a soft pop - he’s sucking his fingers clean.

“taste so fucking good.” he finally speaks, slick fingers pushing your shirt up your body and you manoeuvre it over your head. it’s tossed away, lost to the shadowy room.

“lando,” you hum. “i’m ready.”

it’s a plea that he can’t ignore, the duvet rustling around you. you feel him kick off his boxers and then he’s pressing his cock against the curve of your ass once more. its big, leaking already, and your mind goes completely and utterly blank.

“you feel so good against me.” he notes, dazed at the sensation of your bare flesh warm against his. “you sure?” he mumbles, pressing a firm kiss against the base of your neck, his hands working to reposition your legs so that he can slip into you.

“never been more sure in my life.” you promise, tingling with the anticipation.

he’s so close that you can feel the pulsing heat of him between your parted thighs. the head of him nudges over your clit and he drags himself up and down, coating his cock with your wetness. you’re frustrated - ready to flip the two of you over, fuck yourself full, but he beats you to it. the stretch of him makes you gasp, knuckles white as you grip the soft bedding. when his hips meet yours, he pauses, teeth sinking into your shoulder, utterly overwhelmed. you’re not doing much better, one hand snaking up behind you to find his curls, tugging softly on the messy strands. he likes it, groaning into the marks he’s leaving on your shoulder, lips trailing messily up your neck.

the sunlight streams harshly through the crack in the curtain, momentarily blinding you. it leaves you with only the feeling of him, a golden haze invading your other senses. he’s gripping your hip so hard that you’re certain that you’ll be able to map out each of his fingerprints after.

“can i move?” he rasps, punctuating his request with a delicate kiss just below your ear. you shiver, clenching around him tight, and he bucks into you inadvertently. it sends sparks shooting up and down your spine, an electric wave of pleasure that has your eyes fluttering shut.

“you better.” you implore.

“you’re fucking perfect around me.” he grunts, beginning to build a rhythm. it’s one that leaves you both breathless, brainless, unable to utter anything besides the relentless chants of each-others names, the needy wanton moans that neither of you can hide.

lando’s hands are everywhere, your hips, your ass, wrapped around your sternum to pull you back into him, plunging himself even deeper into you. you claw blindly at any part of him you can reach, braindead from the way he’s fucking you. you and him are like a tidal wave, surging closer and closer to shore after years of dormancy, of an aching, crushing build up. now, as it peaks, it could destroy you, wash you away and leaves you nothing. you know he won’t. you know by the way he’s holding you, by the soft whimpers he lets you hear, by the way he makes you feel more alive than you have in months.

“i’m so close.” your voice quivers, pleasure bleeding into the edges of your words.

“i’m gonna get you there, pretty girl. you’re so good for me.” he promises, one hand slipping between your thighs. he finds your clit, plays with it between his fingers. messy swirls combined with precise flicks make you shake “i can feel you, honey. can feel you holding back. let it all out for me.”

he sounds wrecked, like he’ll die if he can’t feel you let go around him. you feel the start of your orgasm crawling from the tips of your toes, up your legs, and into the fire pit of your belly.

“that’s it, give it to me.” lando whispers, his voice so far away, even though he’s right there, talking you through it with his lips pressing the shell of your ear.

“i love you, lando.”

with that, you shatter into a million pieces, convulsing around him, against him, trying to get impossibly closer to him as you simultaneously try and squirm away. he holds you close, barrelling into you with fast, deep rolls of his hips. each thrust taps into your special spot, stars clouding your vision, his name the only word on your lips, the only word that has ever existed.

“where do you want it?” he asks quickly, urgently anticipating his own end.

“inside of me.” you pant, delirious, but he’s not in the space to do any critical thinking - you love him! - so he takes your words at face value.

a guttural groan hits your ears like a sonic boom, his body tight and firm against your sweat slick back. he squeezes you tight as he fills you up, submitting totally to the heat of your core, to the intoxicating way you draw him in.

“i love you, too.” he mumbles into your shoulder, kisses the words into your flushed skin. “i always have.”

he flops onto his back, slipping out of you carefully first, a lazy smile on his face. his eyes are shut, angelic once more as if he hadn’t been whispering filth into your ear just a minute prior.

“we gotta do more of that.” lando laughs, blindly reaching out for you. you slip into his welcoming arms, draping yourself over his body.

“think i need a shower. maybe you can make up for leaving me in there last night.” you giggle, agreeing that, yes, you absolutely need to do more of that.

he hugs you closer, a kiss placed atop your forehead.

“you can have anything you want, honey.”

-

phew.

-

taglist.

@mcmuppet @japanesekel @vinvantae @ggaslyp1 @dr3lover @smiithys  @rachstash @infinitebells @fizzpopsnap101 @gaily19 @icecoldtires @mysticalnightenthusiast @thatchickwiththecamera @oyesmendes @disneydaydreameralways @canyouseethesainz @ferrarifwendvale @fcbformulaeri @tony-stank3 @maih23 @soleilgrec @carolineworld @anthonykatebridgerton @allywthsr @iamasimpingh0e @ophcelia @coffeehurricanes @jennx03 @blueflorals @sidcrosbyspuck @better-dead-than-smeg @buendiabebeta @pjofics @kovalcin @wintergilmore3 @for-writing-shit @youdontknowmeshh @im-an-overthinker @jule239 @darleneslane @jazzy722 @weasleyswizarding-wheezes @therealone4r @pleasecallmeunhinged @theonlyadrienne @formulaal @carlandoxlestappen @cmleitora @pianor481 @costkappen

[dreamauri]

you've done sub!oscar how about gentledom! oscar , pretty pleaseeeeeee

♪ — 𝗣𝗔𝗖𝗘 𝗬𝗢𝗨𝗥𝗦𝗘𝗟𝗙 oscar piastri x girlfriend! reader ( smut ) fic summary . . . soft dom oscar, no plot, just that (580 words)

( my master list | more of oscar piastri ) ( requests )

CONTENT WARNING — ( +18 MDNI, pnv, overstim, soft do oscar, sub reader, top/dom reader, riding )

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

It starts with his voice. Low and unhurried, like he knows time bends for him. For you. Like he’s not in a rush to get anywhere because he already has you exactly where he wants you — breath shallow, skin buzzing, hips twitching with want.

“Don’t move,” Oscar says, voice a velvet leash, and you freeze mid-shiver on the sheets.

There’s nothing hard in his tone, but the command sinks into your spine anyway, soft and final. You’re spread out on his bed, underwear long gone, one of his hands wrapped around your ankle, thumb brushing lazy circles into your skin like you’re some kind of masterpiece he’s in no rush to finish.

“Let me take my time with you.” You nod. You swallow. You try not to squirm. He notices — of course he does. That little twitch of your thighs? The stutter in your breath? Oscar sees it all.

“You’re so impatient.” His mouth is at your knee now, ghosting kisses higher, trailing fire. “Always so loud about what you want.”

His lips brush the inside of your thigh, and your hands fist in the sheets. You feel a low laugh in his throat, more than you hear it. He’s enjoying this. Enjoying you.

“Breathe, darling,” he murmurs, and it’s so condescendingly sweet you almost moan. “You’ll be good for me, won’t you?”

You nod again, faster this time, a whine caught in the back of your throat. But he’s not satisfied. “I said, say it.”

You meet his eyes — warm brown, dark with something unreadable. But not cruel. Never cruel. Just in control.

“I’ll be good,” you whisper, and his smirk softens into something fonder, more dangerous. His hands — one on your ankle, the other trailing up to your waist — squeeze just enough to make your breath catch.

“That’s my girl.”

You’re already a mess under his fingertips, and he hasn’t even really touched you yet. Just kissed, just held, just looked. And it’s the way he looks at you that kills you. Like you’re breakable. Like you’re holy. Like every breath you take is a prayer he’s going to answer with his mouth.

And he does. When he finally leans in — slow, torturous — and kisses between your thighs, he holds you steady like you might fly apart otherwise. And maybe you would. His tongue moves with precision, not too fast, not too slow, just enough to make you arch into his mouth and forget every coherent thought you’ve ever had.

But every time your hips buck too high, he pulls back. “I said pace yourself, baby.”

And it’s not cruel — it’s careful. It’s him taking you apart like a song he wants to memorize, over and over. He holds you down not to restrict, but to guide. To teach. That pleasure is better like this. That letting him lead will feel better than chasing it alone.

“You’re doing so well for me,” he breathes, hot against your skin. “So sweet. So perfect like this.”

And when he finally lets you come — lets you — it’s not just release. It’s surrender. It’s falling apart in his hands, knowing he’ll catch every broken piece and kiss it back together.

He kisses your stomach after. Your hip. Your knee. Works his way back up until he’s pressed over you again, skin to skin, lips brushing your jaw.

“See?” he whispers, a little smug, a little reverent. “Told you I’d take care of you.”

And you believe him. God, do you believe him.

voice notes . . . ( in honour of his birthday ladies and gentlemen, I made oscar a dom. it was so weird writing this because he's such a sub or vanilla kind of guy in my opinion )

[luxaofhesperides]

Please continue ghostlights multiverse constant au with Earth 0 having a happy ending together cuz halfa Danny is impossible to really kill anymore pleaseeeeeee 😭

(part one)

Danny is destined to die once he meets Duke. He knows this; he’s seen how their friendship leads to Danny’s death is so many different lives. There’s no doubt in his mind that the only way to ensure Danny lives a long life is to stay away from him.

Which is why the universe decides to make Danny pop up constantly. It’s clearly trying to get him killed, and Duke refuses to let that happen!

It starts innocently enough. They cross paths briefly at a bus stop, bumping into each other as Duke gets off the bus and Danny moves to go on it. He recognizes Danny immediately, feels a little spark go through him when their shoulders brush against each other. Something in him says I know you. I miss you.

He pulls back a step and offers a quick apology. Danny waves it off and looks at him as through searching for something. He opens his mouth to say something, but Duke can feel the threads of fate tighten around their throats and hurries away. 

He waits until he hears the bus pull away, then glances behind him to watch it go before he slows down to a normal walking pace and heads for the mall where he planned to meet his friends. 

Duke’s heart pounds in his chest. He can’t get Danny’s eyes out of his head; so painfully blue, so nostalgic, so doomed. 

This is for the best, he reminds himself. This is so Danny can live. That’s all that matters.

The moment’s passed, anyways. They’re still strangers, and they’ll stay that way. 

He takes another minute to collect himself, then plasters on a smile and heads into the mall to find his friends.

The next six times, Duke has to save Danny as the Signal, appearing just in time to stop a mugging, an armed store robbery, a car trying to run Danny over, and fighting off Man-Bat who, for some reason, took one look at Danny and went fuck this guy, actually.

Duke is stressed. He’s Stressed™ and if anyone tries to take out Danny again he’s just going to start screaming. 

For whatever reason, the universe is just out to get Danny now that they’ve run into each other once. Duke’s life is a cosmic joke, and he’s stuck in the center of it all waiting for the moment comedy turns into tragedy. 

It’s gotten to the point that Duke expects to find Danny in some sort of dangerous situation as soon as he starts patrol. He’s starting to dread going out, but he needs to; Gotham needs the Signal to keep the streets safe during the day, and Danny needs Duke to save his incredibly unlucky ass nearly every single day.

The first two hours go fine. He stops an armed robbery and a car jacking, chases away some creeps from the working girls, and gets a blueberry muffin from the bakery that’s been around forever, on account of the old woman running it thinking he’s a good lad who needs to eat more.

Duke begins to hope that he’ll have a quiet patrol. He begins to hope that Danny is safe and not in mortal danger for once.

His hopes are immediately dashed when he spots Danny on a rooftop, standing way too close to the edge.

Heart in his throat, Duke crosses the space between them in an instant, slingshotting himself forward through shadows.

He intends to pull Danny back, to say something, to try and shake some common sense into him so he actually has a chance at living a long life. Duke doesn’t get to do any of that; as soon as he steps out of the shadows, Danny turns to face him with a tired smile.

“There you are,” he says. “I knew you’d find me.”

“What? I—listen, can you step back from the ledge for me?”

Danny steps back, keeping his eyes on Duke. He doesn’t seem to mind that the Signal is so hesitant in this moment, keeping his distance. 

“I wasn’t sure at first,” he says, as if he never stopped talking, “But I had a feeling. You’ve probably had it too, right? It’s why we keep being pushed together, and why my luck has been so awful ever since I came to Gotham.”

He knows, is the first thing Duke things. But how can that be? If Danny knows about all those other universes where they had each other, then he knows how it ends. If he knows, then he should be trying to keep his distance from both Duke and the Signal before he gets killed.

“It’s you under that mask, isn’t it? Duke.”

The way Danny says his name brings him back to all those other lives where they had each other from the start. He sounds so sure of himself, as if he’s always known Duke.

It’s only when Duke says, “How?” that Danny falters, fear briefly crossing his expression before it settles into something more neutral. His fingers begin to pull at the cuffs of his jacket sleeves, confidence melting away. 

“Do you… not know me?”

The quietness of his voice, the fragility of it, breaks Duke’s heart. He doesn’t stop to think before he answers, “I know you. Of course I know you, Danny.” Then he blinks, shakes his head, and says, “Wait. No. I know of you. We haven’t really met this life.”

“It’s the dreams, right? They make things so confusing.”

“You’ve been getting them too?”

“I may be the cause of them,” Danny says with a wince. “Due to some, uh… ghostly magic shenanigans. It wasn’t on purpose! But it is kinda my fault.”

Ghostly magic? Okay, sure, why not. Who is Duke to judge the bizarre things that exist in their world. He has superpowers and his biological father is an evil immortal. He has absolutely no leg to stand on when it cames to the weird and the unexpected. Might as well roll with it, since this is his life now.

Besides, there’s more important things to focus on, such as: “Okay, so, just to be on the same page, you’ve been getting the same dreams as me, yeah? The ones where you always die? Those dreams?”

And Danny, very casually, answers, “Yeah.”

“Dude,” Duke says, pained, “If you know that meeting me leads to your death, then why are you seeking me out?!”

“What?”

“Have you not seen how you die young in every single universe? Because I have! And it’s messing me up!”

Danny blinks at him, then looks guilty, hunching in on himself. “Oh, yeah. That. Uh, yeah, so…” he trails off and bites his lip, gaze kept downwards so he doesn’t have to meet Duke’s eyes. “I do die young always, yeah, but it’s totally not your fault! I just do that!”

“You just do that,” Duke repeats, pained. 

“Yeah. I just die young.”

“Is this somehow not a problem for you.”

To his immense displeasure, Danny has the nerve to shrug and say, “Eh, not really.”

“Danny.”

“It’s okay! Really!” Danny says, a little frantically, “And also it has nothing to do with you! None of my deaths have been your fault, it’s just a thing that happens to me!” And then, in a quiet, rushed mumble, “Also I already died in this universe so it’s fine.”

A strangled sound bursts out of Duke’s throat as he tries very hard not to start yelling. He puts his head in his hands and holds back a heavy sigh because the boy of his literal dreams is stressing him out so much he’s about to dissolve into ashes and ascend to a higher realm where he has no worries. 

Unfortunately, he’s not quite there yet, so Duke has to deal with living in the reality where Danny admits he already died because that’s just what he does: die young. 

Which is, apparently, not Duke’s fault at all. Cool. 

Cool cool cool. He’s definitely not going to have a breakdown about this.

A hand gently tugs on his wrist, making him lift his head to meet Danny’s worried gaze. “Hey, you alright? Do you wanna sit down for a minute?”

And you know what? Duke does want to sit down for a minute. He’s earned it. 

He nods, and Danny carefully guides him back to where the roof access door is, so they can sit with their backs against something and be away from the edge where curious eyes might spot them. It feels easy, practiced, as if they’ve done this a thousand times before instead of just now having their first conversation. Their lives have been linked and twisted together, though only for a short time before death takes Danny away. 

He knows Danny, despite how illogical it is, and that’s what makes him take off his helmet and exposure his face to the world. 

Danny knows him too, after all. 

There is no hiding from someone who is meant to be in his life.

Danny’s smiling softly when he turns to look at him. “Hey, Duke. It’s good to see you properly. Is it weird to say that I’ve missed you even though we’ve technically never met in this life?”

“Nah,” he replies, “I missed you too. Please stop scaring me like that.”

“I make no promises. Expect for this: dying won’t take me away from you in this life. I’ve got it handled.”

“I don’t… I don’t think that’s someone anyone can have handled.”

“I’ve got it handled,” Danny repeats firmly. 

Duke shakes his head with a small laugh. He got so caught up in the guilt of leading to Danny’s death, of being unable to save him, of losing  him in every universe, that he forgot how stubborn Danny is. 

It is a weight off his chest, though. To know that it wasn’t his fault. To know that the worst has already come to pass long before they met in this universe, so they don’t have to fear the future together. 

“So,” he says, “Tell me more about these magical ghostly shenanigans?”

“At least wait until the second date for personal questions,” Danny jokes.

“Okay. Wanna grab dinner tonight?”

It’s nice to see that Danny blushes easily in this universe too. “Isn’t that moving a little fast?”

“We’ve been dreaming about a bunch of other universes where we’re together. We know each other even though we don’t know each other. We’re well past moving fast, dude.”

“Yeah, that’s fair,” Danny nods. “Alright. Dinner tonight, then. Take me to the best place for breakfast foods in Gotham. I’ve been craving pancakes all week.”

“Sure, I can do that. Mind giving me your number so I can figure out where to pick you up from?”

Danny nods and begins patting his pockets in search of… something. Duke means to grab his phone and hand it to Danny to get his number, but he’s quickly distracted as Danny gives up on his pockets and shoves a hand directly into his own chest. 

Ghostly magic shenanigans. This is probably part of it?  Danny doesn’t look alarmed by this at all, so Duke rolls with it and shoves away his shock at the sight. 

“Aha!” Danny holds up a sharpie in triumph. He sure did pull that straight out of his ribcage. Duke is so chill with it. 

He lets Danny take hold of his arm, removing a wrist gauntlet so he can write on the skin. The cool ink of the sharpie makes him shiver, but otherwise, he stays still. Danny writes carefully, in smooth movements. It doesn’t take more than a few seconds, then he pulls the sharpie away and blows a surprisingly cold breath against Duke’s wrist to help the ink dry faster.

“There we go,” he says with a smile. “Let me know when you wanna have our date, okay? I’m free whenever, so don’t worry about accommodating me or anything.

“I’ll text you once I’m ready,” Duke agrees. He stands up, looking over the numbers written on his wrist. He memorizes them, then puts his wrist gauntlet back on. It’s about time for him to get back to being the Signal, as much as he hates to leave Danny here when they’ve finally been able to have a quiet moment to themselves. 

“I’ll see you later, then.” Danny hesitates, then leans forward and presses a quick, chaste kiss against Duke’s cheek. Duke blinks at him, stunned, his heart skipping a beat. 

He doesn’t get the chance to return the gesture; Danny flushes red, backs up a few steps with a shy grin, and says, “Okay, bye Duke! Stay safe out there!” And then he’s gone, blinking out of sight, and it’s only his meta powers that let him see a faint wispy outline where Danny was. 

It moves, floating up in the air, then flies away like smoke in the breeze. 

Ah, Duke thinks, Ghostly. He’s a ghost. I’ll worry about that later.

His fingers brush against the spot where Danny kissed him. Then he puts his helmet back on and focuses on swinging through the streets of Gotham, ready for anything. 

The sooner he gets done with patrol, the better, after all. He needs all his focus to do that so he can start getting ready for his date with Danny, the literal boy of his dreams. 

This time, this life, this universe, they’re gonna do it right. They’ll make up for all the time their other selves lost. They’ll cherish every minute together, one pancake date at a time.

And to think, it only took a couple dozen different lives to get here.

[deadqueerboys]

id like a wilbur soot x gn!reader where theyre in a car together wilbur is driving and reader in the passenger seat keeps on touching is crotch but hes like "we cant do this" because she just freshly turned 18 but she ends up convincing him like "i wont tell" and they end up fucking anyway....😭

i dont know if you write things like this if not just ignore it

pretty pleaseeeeeee with a cherry on top!🍒

Road - Wilbur x Reader

(small, nsfw)

As I told you guys, I've been dealing with my own stuff. I'm sorry for not writing so much.

How much time again? 1 hour? 2 hours? It doesn't matter. It's been a while since Y/n is at the car with Wilbur. Her headphones are uncharged, and her phone doesn't work. She has nothing to distract her, and it's actually stressful! She even thought about talking with her friend Will, but he just says 'focus on the road' or whatever, something that a dad would say. It got her even more pissed off. Suddenly, she has an idea..

"What? No! Y/n, no!" Wilbur slaps her hand, even knowing that his cock is already slightly horny for such a younger girl want him. But he couldn't.. she's just a fresh meat.. one that he kept thinking since they knew each other, even before she turned 18. He treats her like a dog, and she always follows within.

"Don't treat me like a child!" She rolls her eyes and looks at the road. Some minutes pass by, and she touches him again with a smirk on her face. At this time, Wilbur doesn't stop her. His dick is hard like a rock. He even thinks about putting her hand even closer to where he wants.

"I- alright, I won't treat you like a child, but that's-" He moans as she grabs his cock. "No, no.." Wilbur closes his eyes, taking a deep breath. "That's.. not.. fair." He humps his hips against her hands, some of the other drivers honking at him. For a bare moment, Wilbur takes his hands out of the steering wheel, grabbing Y/n's hair and putting her face close to his crotch. "You're literally a baby girl, i guess you never did it before, huh?" He chuckles.

[logan-bear-bear]

Guys I love British Grace family so much you guys (shout out to everyone who asked if I had an British accent for several years) like I am creating an entire storyline with them now. Like, (this is gonna get angsty and sad be prepared) imagine if the whole reason as to why they even came to America in the first place was so that Beryl would leave Jason at the Wolf House for Juno, it could mean as soon as they got off the plane they headed there to leave Jason. So it could be another reason as to why Thalia is scared of flying: the first time she got on a plane her brother disappeared shorty after. Like her as a 9-year-old girl associating flying with her loved ones disappearing. Also her leaving right after so now we have a small British girl running around and eventually finds Luke. Imagine their accents rubbing off on each other (I don’t know how accents work I’ve barely left my state and I’m not actually British despite popular opinion) because they were together for quite a few years. Then she was stuck as a tree and now im imagining her accent sticks with her when she becomes a hunter (bare with me here) so eventually years later when Jason and her reunite and in a lovely universe where Jason DOESNT die, him and Thalia are able to hang out more and reconnect… and eventually Jasons long gone British accent is returning (yet again bare with me dont know how accents work dont judge) so that is how British accent Jason Grace comes back PLEASEEEEEEE

[brins-rogers]

Hiii!!! <333

I was wondering if you can do Azalea's opinions (+ interactions) on Frankie, Charlie and Barbara (my oc's) if that's okay with you :3

Hey, I sure can!!! Literally SAUR excited for your ask!!! Opinions and interactions below the cut bc I very much enjoy writing

Adding pre makeover Azalea and post bc i feel it’s very important for character development

Frankie:

- thru the ROOF that Johnny and Lola broke up. Even more happy that out of all people it’s someone she genuinely likes taking her place.

- Frankie and Azalea would get along considerably well, I think! Both are more nerd-esqe girls in the shop but for different reasons (Azalea to work on cars and Frankie for Johnny)

- pre-glow up Azalea and Frankie definitely hang out a lot, especially since during this time Azalea is friendly with the nerds (even if being friends with Casey conflicts that sometimes).

- you can’t tell me they wouldn’t be in each others rooms, complaining about their boy problems (mostly Azalea to Frankie who just smiles and nods too sweetly and tries to give her advice) but Azalea “omg no I can’t tell him I like him r u crazy Frankie” Collins can NEVER take the advice

- “why don’t you ever just tell Johnny you like him?” “His girlfriend is very attractive and I’m … not his type” “GIRL PLEASEEEEEEE”

- post-glow up Azalea ofc still adores Frankie, but due to her falling out with the nerds she’s worried there’s a bit of discourse now, especially since Beatrice now has a lot of resentment for her.

- ofc Azalea still wants to be friends, but doesn’t push that on Frankie considering how all of her friends now hate her (aside from the greasers) and basically looks at her from a distance like Frankie is her husband who went off to war “my shaylaaaaa” azalea whispers from afar

Charlie:

- first of all, loser-core girlies. Clock it.

- probably did NOT like each other at first. “You looked like a bitch” “yeah so did you” type beat

- they do say that’s how the best friendships are formed, after all

- Charlie most definitely is on her ass and calls her out for being a “pick me girl” once she has her little glow up and all the sudden thinks she’s hot

- “so let’s not forget where we came from, sweetie” Charlie snaps her fingers in front of her face when she’s zoning out and not paying attention to her classes

- probably actually genuinely do have a falling out their senior year because Azalea just can’t get it together and Charlie is not gonna watch her self sabotage herself. Also Azalea gets mean!! And she’s not rocking with that!!

- it’s so sad to watch them go from friends to strangers again, but when the person you know turns into someone you can’t be with … sometimes it’s best

Barbara: (prep)

- Azalea simply does NOT fw the preps under any circumstances. Originally, this applied for Barbara too. SWORE she was only using Thad bc c’mon … it’s THAD.

- definitely hesitant at first when she’s coming around and hanging out with them. Side eyes, tight lipped smiles, the whole shebang

- once she sees she’s not actually an evil, soulless person, she’s like oh!

- admires her pretty greatly, if Thad can’t tutor her she will definitely help with science/math, but English and History she’s on her own 💔

- I wouldn’t say friends, but probably acquaintances

- after her little makeover … yeah she’s not hanging out with the nerds and Barbara is hating how she’s treating them like she doesn’t know them

- Azalea is suddenly too good to talk to the people who took her in? Oh, not rocking with that at all

- Barbara stops talking to her too, probably. Two-faced coins aren’t the only thing she dislikes

Also would love just to chat and bully brainrot and HC OC’s!!

@gojosattoru

[live-laugh-lenney]

Can i have a headcanon or reaction for arthur tv with a veterinarian s/o pleaseeeeeee

this is so cute... like, i swear... him falling in love with a veterinarian when he has such a huge love for animals.. god, it's almost like fate.

-> it's almost like a chance meet that happens once...

-> and again... and again...

-> and then again until they decide to do something about.

-> there's no fancy party or dating app involved. no mutual friends who knew each other. his friend didn't set him up with her and her friend didn't even know of him.

-> it happens during her hour-long lunch break; a little bakery down the road from her place of work where they sell 'the best baguettes and do the best coffees in town' so she says. she still has her work uniform on, still has her name-tag hanging from her shirt, purse in her hand and her office keys/car keys dangling off her finger.

-> he just so happens to be standing behind her in the queue when she orders her baguette and her favourite coffee. having just finished on a football video shoot with chris down the road, the cupcakes and the croissants and the muffins caught his eye on his walk by, and he felt the need to make a pitstop on his way home to fill his stomach.

-> he notices her order before he notices her.

-> 'that sounds delightful'

-> 'it's delicious, you should try it'

-> 'you think?'

-> 'yeah, not that i was staring at you but you seemed to be a little bit overwhelmed with all the options up there so... try it and thank me later'

-> so he does and he thinks he has definitely found a new drink to fixate upon for the next week... but by the time he tries to tell her his opinion, she's disappeared and he has no idea where she went... his heart sinking in his chest.

-> neither of them thought they would bump into each other the next day... at the same time... except this time, she's behind him and he's ordering before her.

-> 'i told you that you'd like it'

-> 'you have an incredible palate to discover this. it's amazing'

-> he waits this time; he waits for her. he listens to her as she finishes off her order to the person behind the bar (who seemingly knew what she wanted before she spoke and he got the impression that she must have frequented this bakery for them to know her name and her order), almost standing with her as she orders her lunch of a baguette and a coffee at the counter.

-> 'i would stay but-'

-> 'oh, i wasn't waiting for you. i was just-"

-> 'it's okay. i would have asked you if you wanted to sit together but i have work to get back for.'

-> 'what do you do?'

-> 'i'm a vet at the centre down the road. this is a godsend for being so close and doing so many good lunch options. you should try their ham and rocket and cheese baguette. the rocket is a total game changer.'

-> she's walking towards the door and down the street before he realises and comes back to his senses; he's completely enamoured by her.

-> he's already in the bakery by the time she walks in the next day; and he's eating the baguette she told him to try. with the coffee beside his plate. and this time, he threw a curveball and got himself a little muffin that he wanted to recommend to her...

-> 'i feel like i should get a discount for getting new customers to start coming her more often'

-> he's blushing as he looks down at his plate, recognising the voice almost instantly, swallowing back his food and smiling warmly in her direction.

-> 'we must stop meeting here like this...'

-> he assumed she was waiting for his name and he spoke his name shyly. a grin on her lips. recalling his name before she introduced herself with her own name. and this time, she sat with him with her own order... in a bag and a takeaway cup... but he'd take that.

-> 'i have ten minutes before i need to be back. thought you could do with the company, arthur.'

-> and his name just rolls off of her tongue so perfectly. he loves the sound. loves how her tongue wraps around his name. loves how her mouth enunciates his name. loves how she spoke his name. his stomach filled with butterflies.

-> it becomes such a common thing.

-> sometimes she's there before him, sometimes he's there before her and yet, they still wait for the other and share one little fact or piece of information about one other as they get to know one another a little more than before.

-> she's interested in his job and how he gets to film all his fun times with his friends and get paid for it... and he's interested in her job and how she gets to be around animals all day and care for them in the best way possible.

-> she would have been lying if she said she didn't go home and google his name and find him on social media and follow him on his instagram and his twitter, finding him on youtube to watch a few of his videos whilst she ate her dinner or whilst she got ready for bed, stalking as much of his online presence to see what he was really like as a person.

-> 'this might seem forward and i love these lunchtime dates but-'

-> 'you think these are dates? i thought they were just coincidental meetings'

-> 'maybe we could try a proper date?'

-> 'like, drinks and dinner or?'

-> 'anything you want to do'

-> the last thing he expects her to say is bowling and the arcade that comes alongside it. claiming she wanted to do something fun and a little different and not anything boring like sitting down and getting to know one another. not having to be serious. being able to talk and laugh and be as silly as they wanted to do.

-> they exchange numbers. he drops her off home. she invites him in with the invitation of pizza from the local takeaway. she wasn't looking for love but... love definitely found her.

-> and from then on, their lunchtime dates move to her office and he'll always offer to grab them their lunch before meeting her at her work. sitting in the reception, talking to the receptionist (who happened to be her work bestie and wanted all the details), petting the dogs as they left with their owners, giving head scratches to the cats who were in their crates and waiting to be seen. he can always hear her through the close door; always so kind, so sweet, so soft and gentle with every animal she sees and so informative to those who bring their pets in.

-> she never takes her work home with her... but he'll always ask. he loves animals and if there was anything she ever wanted to speak about, especially if she had a bad day or had to deal with something that was really sad and upsetting to her, then he wanted her to be able to talk to him and use him as a shoulder to cry on so she didn't have to deal with it by herself.

-> 'you don't have to ask me.'

-> 'i know but i want to. you ask me about my day, i ask you about yours'

-> both of them are so interested in each other and it's something that starts off slowly.

-> something that they slowly work through; his schedule was always different from day to day whereas her's was always regular and the same everyday. a classic 9 to 5 job with the odd day off for her to use at her leisure.

-> they take their time.

-> they enjoy each other before they become something official. they like to be by themselves. without everyone else knowing about them. sharing the sweetest kisses, cuddling, sneaking around from their friends and family because they just weren't wanting to share each other just yet.

-> and when they've become boyfriend and girlfriend, after a few months have flown by of knowing one another, they slowly introduce the other to their family and then their friends... which arthur was always going to be nervous about. having friends of such a high social media influence, he didn't want her feeling out of place or like she was different to them or that she didn't belong...

-> and his friends never do make her feel that way.

-> fitting in perfectly with everyone... they love her and she loves them and they love having her around in their group nights. they love how she teases arthur like they do yet they can tease her and she knows they're being silly and she doesn't take anything to heart. it's like she's known them for years... especially george (who she ends up being the best of friends with)... and arthur finds it so endearing how they've just welcomed her and how he felt welcomed within her own little group.

-> a coincidence meeting... but the best thing to have ever happened.

[alicethepiper]

i should probably label this as a series or something or number them idk how to do that right now tho i'll bother with it later

MY MODS STOPPED WORKING AND I SPENT LIKE TWO TO THREE HOURS GETTING THEM TO WORK I AM SO SMART MWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA (i am so glad they work) (i love dressing everyone up) (it's like playing with barbies) (except i can't make leon and the merchant kiss like i could with barbies) (dammit)

YAY THE MOD WORKS

This was my reveal that the mod worked and i think it's funny, like, look at that poor dude's face. get ada-wonged, nerd.

title title title

crouch (i'm so good at labeling these images)

THE GRAPPLING HOOK IS SO FUCKING FUN DUDE

i love this outfit because it makes me feel like i'm in the last of us or something

(every day i crave tlou part ii remake) (simply to play the bonus content) (i crave it) (but alas) (i dont have a goddamn ps5) (its a sad time)

look at her looking so cool and shit ahhhhhhhhhh (i didnt care too much for ada before but this dlc is actually making me like her a lot ahhhh)

she is so COOL can i be cool toooo pleaseeeeeee

merchant time (he is gay) also the music for the typewriter goes so hard?? the music while shopping from the merchant is cool too but the save theme is actually SO GOOD. re4make normal save theme is like whatever, but it's got NOTHING on the original re4 save theme. this is like a cool blend of both and i love that.

okay i took this shot because i was like "omg yay ada and leon are in the frame together yippee! my boy!!" but now that i look at it, it looks like i was just taking a boobie shot i swear that's not what this is

hehe she's so cool girlboss slay

and here's shots of the boy again hehe hehe hehe

playing through the dlc and i'm being like "omg i know where leon is right now!! he's just over there!! ahh!!" this shit has me giggling and kicking my feet i can't with this afjdhafjweifbejibfwjuifbi

mods i used:

Valerie's Outfits - RE Resistance - Ada Wong - Glitch (Glitch5970)

Leon Long Sleeves - pakjuaan

Leon's Alternate Hairstyle - notryzer

(i also used a mod that let's you use ada mods in separate ways) (and i have a mod that keeps her hair fluffy in the main game but that doesn't really apply here, but it might be why her hair is normal and not in the braids that the mod came with) (idk) (just a guess) (i need to find out why my punsiher isnt pink >:((((( )

i literally love you glitch, so many of the mods i have come from you you are so cool for these ahhhh

[harryfeatgaga]

thinking about exrry

your just laying in bed watching your show and your phone starts ringing and it’s harry and you’re confused because you haven’t talked too much since the break up (might i mention the break up wasn’t because of cheating or anything it just didn’t work out, right person wrong time type of situation)

you answer the phone and you’re like ‘hello?????’ and he’s like ‘hey love’ and you hear loud music and you can tell that he’s drunk and he starts blabbering about how he wants you there with him and how he misses you and you’re like ‘harry where are you?’ and he tells you what club/bar he’s at and you’re like ‘do you want me to come get you’ and he’s like ‘really??’ ans you’re like ‘ofc h’

anyways you drive to get him and he’s waiting outside when you get there and he gets in the car and starts blabbing again so you’re like ‘harry we can talk about it in the morning ’ and he’s like ‘ok😔😔’

anyways you stop to get him something to eat and then take him back to yours and when your in the elevator and walking to the apartment your just holding onto his hand he’s all happy about it

once you get inside you help him change into a shirt that he had left you and boxers and you make sure he eats and drinks some water

then you get him all comfy and bed and lay beside him and he’s all like ‘can we have a cuddle’ ans you say yes obv and he just snuggles into the crook of your neck and in the morning you guys talk about you’re break up and the possibility of getting back together because you miss each other sm

NOOOOOOONOONONONOOOOO PLEASEEEEEEE 😔😔😔

[winderlylandchime]

I know i said sorry already but again sorry, he fucking went crazy. Anyway here’s 3x05 1/3 ‘He won’t be able to do it huh? I cant even pee in a public restroom, i would die.’ ‘SO THEY START THE SHOW WITH MIKE JERKING OFF AND IMMEDIATELY AFTERWARDS GIVE ME THE PIANO FUCKER?! I CANT WIN! How can Justin pretend that he’s into this? He takes whose breath away? What are these cringey lines? Who allowed this? *groans loudly and proceeds to almost slide off the couch*‘ ‘Oh are we getting political now? I don’t know how to feel about this. Why can’t we just be vibes and Brian? We’ve made it so far with just that and i’d say we are having an excellent time’ ‘can he please fuck the fuck off with this fucking violin already? I actually hate the sound of it now.’ ‘TED IS A REPUBLICAN?! That makes zero fucking sense’ *pauses tv* ‘i want him to win if that means he fucks off already. HA HE LOST! TO A WOMAN! I know that had to hurt. He really thinks he’s the best, doesn’t he? I’m surprised he’s not blaming Justin for fucking it up. IS HE GONNA GET AN AGENT AND THEN LEAVE? PLEASEEEEEEE’ ‘i actually really like the banter between Mike and Brian when Mike can act normal towards him. I would never be able to jerk off again if my mom would mention anything about- well good for you Mike, go whack off’ he once again groaned the second he saw Ethan. I think he maybe hates him more than me. ‘YES GO ON A TOUR! GO! FAR AWAY! (The agent says if ethan signs he doesnt wanna see justin again) PLEASE SIGN PLEASE SIGN! SIGN IT RIGHT NOW! HERE *he throws a pen towards the tv* JUST DO IT! I’ll even spell your name for you! Just sign it! Oh wait.. he wants him to be hetero to be famous..oh’ And now Stockwell is up..Pray for me. ‘Who’s he? Why does Brian care for mayors? I forgot whose who with the mayor thing that Debbie was yelling about’ ‘NOPE YOU CANNOT TAKE HIM TO THE DINER THAT IS BRIANS PLACE! Why does he walks so fucking weird? Hopefully it leaves you single, Justin! And back with Brian! OH COME ON ETHAN! I EVEN GAVE YOU A PEN!’ ‘Oh shit so he’s the cop? BRIAN! WHAT IS GOING ON?!‘ ‘Jen!! I missed you baby! Where have you been my girl? Why haven’t I gotten any scenes with her and Brian? Imagine her being all i miss you BriBri…my dudes, you haven’t even been together for a month? Why are you buying a house?’ ‘BRIAN! why would he work with a homophobic cop? THAT LOOK *points to Brian after Deb tells about Ethan* is a look of a person who also wanted Ethan to sign the deal! Glad I’m not alone’

Mikey not being able to get off in the sperm bank is always hilarious.

Eeee I cannot wait to hear how he reacts to “there’s nothing noble about being poor” because YES Brian wants him to sign the deal.

And I am so excited for the Stockwell arc through your Brother’s eyes.

[floofeeeeee]

Ughhhanabahha Ik :((( I’m re reading the books and it is make me realize how much better it is when you don’t hate a character LMAOA

and I was thinking of some scenes with them that were cute (and still are this post hasn’t changed my mind) but it definitely makes you think that fitz wasn’t the only One at fault in there relationship THEY BOTH WERE. And this is one’s of Sophie’s flaws as a character and probably why a lot of the readers dislike fitz. We only see him in her pov. She has as lot of people put it rose colored glasses when it comes to fitz.

Now for the early books I don’t think it was as much of a problem one she was 12 Ik a lot of 12 years old who are like that about there crushes trust me but later on especially when they get together it’s a problem. Not only for the fact that she doesn’t truly know fitz but it plays into the fact that she doesn’t think she worthy of fitz,

I also think it’s interesting when we see fitz breaking that filter that Sophie has its always such a vulnerable moment, and it’s always when he’s angry, when there in stressful situations he always has the clam nature to him he trying to help everyone in his own way by not showing what he feels in that moment so everyone else doesn’t freak out, but when it’s a moment when his emotions Finley spill out its anger.

And like someone said I forgot who, it scares her because she’s not use that side of him she only use to the Prince Charming she had in her mind.

I just want them to hug it out PLEASEEEEEEE BE FRIENDS AGAIN PLEASE 🙏 🙏

Like Ik it’s probably too late. But I want Sophie to realize she never truly got to know fitz I want her to dig deep in that feeling and finally realize. I want her to take off the glasses and look at fitz to who he is. And I want them to become friends again. Probably best not to be in a relationship I mean maybe it could work out later. But if they fully look at each other and talk to the person inside not out maybe they can be friends again (please Shannon PLEASE) I also think they could be (congets con- cisnmanw whatever the name is for that telepathy thing.) again. not in a romantic relationship, just as friends and it wouldn’t put as much pressure n Sophie or fitz to know who her parents are. Maybe probably not I just miss them 😭

Sophie Foster only ever saw Fitz Vacker as his character archetype.

That's why I never liked Sophitz.

[heliads]

29 and 33 with Newt from TMR pleaseeeeeee

newt my boy my beloved

masterlist

It is common knowledge that the Track-Hoes are all incredibly close. You have to be, at any rate, spend enough time slaving over the same pitiful plants and wilting tomatoes day in and day out and you’d bond with just about anyone. 

It makes sense, that’s all you’re saying. You’d trust any of them without hesitation, and that’s even without the stress of being trapped in a massive stone maze that connects you to all of the other Gladers. The Track-Hoes are your favorite people, and that’s that. 

There is one amongst your gardening numbers that you like more than all the others, however. He grew on you slowly, day by day until you realized you weren’t looking at him as a good friend but as something else, someone that you love more than anything. 

There are many reasons why you could have fallen for Newt. He’s kind, obviously, far more than any of the others. He makes you feel not just wanted but needed, a crucial part of any inner circle. Any good characteristic that could be named aloud is attributed to Newt on a daily basis. 

Then again, you never needed a reason to love Newt, you just do. He smiles at you and you’re smitten, laughs with you over your favorite inside jokes and you’re lovesick. There is simply nothing you can do about it, nothing but sit there, pine, and wish he felt even half as strongly about you.

That’s the problem, after all. The Track-Hoes are family, and that means Newt never seems to see you as anything other than a best friend, a sister, someone he can count on and never love in that way. Even if you spent the rest of your life in the Glade, Newt would never change his mind on that front. 

In the end, that’s that. You’ve had your time to mourn this news, to grieve over the fact that the boy you love will never love you back. It’s certainly kept you up at nights, as visions as what could have been played over and over in your head. Newt could have been everything you ever needed, and he never will be.

Not in that way, at least. What you have now is good, and it’s worthwhile to appreciate it. Doesn’t mean you don’t wish there was more, but at least you have his friendship. It’s not worth ruining the easy bond to tell Newt how you feel, especially because he’d just turn you down politely and that would be the end of everything.

That isn’t the only opinion on the matter, however. You thought you were being perfectly discreet with your feelings, keeping them only to yourself so no one could suspect, but it turns out the excellent camaraderie between the Track-Hoes means that some of them are a little better at guessing your thoughts than you’d like.

Basically, you don’t know how Zart found out that you like Newt, but there’s absolutely nothing you can do about it now. It feels like not a day goes by that the Keeper isn’t teasing you about your crush, begging you to tell Newt so both of you can be put out of your misery, and otherwise being a nuisance. Zart is convinced that Newt likes you back, which is so wrong you can hardly even bear to think about it.

He’s grinning at you now, blond irritation, because he keeps putting you and Newt together in garden plots in the hopes that one of you will cave due to proximity and just spill your guts. That’s what Zart told you, at least, when he imbibed a little too much of Gally’s special brew and felt his tongue was loose enough to let you into his grand schemes.

Despite Zart’s planning, it’s a lost cause. You and Newt have been working steadily all morning, transplanting tomatoes from a shadowy spot in the gardens to somewhere they should get a little more sun. Frypan’s been complaining that his sauces aren’t nearly as flavorful as they could be due to wilting supplies. You’re desperate for the cook’s good mood so his food doesn’t reflect his attitude, and so you’re indulging him on this point.

When the day’s work is over, you peel off your work gloves with a grimace. Being a Track-Hoe isn’t easy, anyone can see that, but you feel it especially once your hours are through. Your bones ache, your muscles are cramped, and every plague known to mankind is tormenting your spine and shoulders.

You stop by the showers on your way to dinner, reveling in the chance to actually get clean for once. You don’t know that all of the dirt will ever truly leave that groove between your fingers and fingernails, but you give it your best shot anyway. 

It’s a bit chilly when you step out of the water, what with dusk quickly rushing over the Glade, so you grab a nearby jacket and pull it over your shoulders as you walk. You’ve lost track of how many times the Track-Hoes have borrowed or stolen each other’s clothes during the months you’ve spent here, so this latest acquisition is nothing new.

Or, you thought it was nothing new until you head over to dinner. Frypan’s running a little late, so most of your friends are hanging around and talking until the food is ready. You walk over to some of the other Track-Hoes, ready to engage in a discussion of everyone’s favorite complaints on hot sun and tough roots and whatnot.

You’re greeted instead by the sight of one rather shell shocked Track-Hoe. Newt is standing on the outskirts of the group, talking to a Runner who’s just jogged over from the Doors. He turns absentmindedly to greet you when you approach, but his casual wave is interrupted by some wave of unnameable emotions that crests over him the second Newt’s eyes lock on you. He seems utterly shaken, unable to form a single concise syllable. Strange.

Before you’re able to read too much into the affair, Zart bounds over you, grinning ear to ear. 

“What did I tell you?” He says proudly, “you’ve got a chance, you shank.”

You stare at him in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

Zart swats you on the shoulder. “You know exactly what I’m talking about. Your crush is head over heels, I promise.”

You laugh bitterly. “Yeah, I bet, Zart. Do me a favor, try to wake up from your dreams every now and then.”

Zart, however, refuses to be swayed by this. “Hey, I’m right this time. You can say what you want about how you look or what you think other people feel about you, but Newt’s jaw literally dropped when he saw you, so clearly something is working.”

You snort. “That’s insane. He would never–”

Zart interrupts, jerking his chin back towards Newt. “You sure? Look for yourself if you don’t believe me.”

You follow his line of sight to where Newt still stands looking at you. Minho’s still talking to him, but you don’t think Newt is hearing a word of it.

“Maybe you’re right,” you whisper.

“Yeah, maybe I am,” Zart replies, “Go talk to him, will you? This is your chance.”

He pushes you in Newt’s direction before you can react, and then you’re walking towards the blond boy without a single plan or idea of what to do. Newt seems just as unprepared as you are, and the two of you end up staring at each other for a solid second or two before he manages to choke out a question in a faded voice:

“Is that my jacket?”

Newt is so totally screwed. He’s known this for a while, obviously, but he really had been thinking that he could have hidden it some time longer. Clearly things won’t be going his way ever again, at least judging by today.

Newt was meant to be hiding his crush. It’s not like it would ever work out, anyway; everyone knows that the Track-Hoes are a family, Y/N’s supposed to be his best friend, not someone he could ever love or hope to love. That didn’t stop him from trying. Some days it feels like it never will. He makes the rules, as second in command, he makes them so he can break them or at least wish he had the courage to try. Newt’s lost a lot of his courage in the days since– well, nobody talks about that anymore, and so he won’t either.

For now, it means that Newt fell in love when he wasn’t supposed to, and now he’s forced to play around in some sort of strange lockstep in which he pretends that he isn’t crushing so hard on his best friend that he could die, and everyone else doesn’t see a thing. 

Minho has been seeing many things, of course, the other boy won’t stop teasing Newt about it for a second, but no one else seems remotely aware of the concept of Newt loving anyone more than the typical familial love of the Track-Hoes. Maybe that’s good, or maybe it’s terrible to spend so much time amongst these friends and still have only one see straight through you.

Regardless, he’s well and truly in for it now. Newt was minding his own business tonight, trying to pretend that flinging himself into his daily tasks in the Glade could one day distract him from the inevitability of spending the rest of his life within these stone walls, loving someone who’d never have him, when he saw Y/N. 

Specifically, he saw Y/N wearing his jacket. It’s funny how such a small occurrence should have such a devastating effect on him. It’s just a few yards of fabric, some garment that showed up once in the Box, was claimed by him, and has subsequently grown to represent Newt’s entire being in the way that only a handful of failing stitches truly can.

Now, the illustrious garment is draped across Y/N’s shoulders. It seems like a promise, in a way, a tantalizing promise of what he could have had if the stars chose to align. This could have happened all the time, you know. Y/N could have been one with Newt in every conceivable way, one ending where the other begins right down to something as simple as a shared jacket.

He’s definitely thinking too much into it, because when Y/N goes from chatting with Zart to walking his way, the only thing Newt is able to say to them when they stand in front of him at last is one simple question:

“Is that my jacket?”

Instantly, he despises himself for bringing it up. It’s a silly question, and now Y/N’s glancing at the sleeves and pockets and realizing that yes, it is his, and yes, Y/N hadn’t done that intentionally. They start to pull the jacket off but Newt, fuelled by a sudden and irresistible panic, flings out a hand to stop them.

“Wait, wait. It’s fine. It– suits you, I think.” He manages.

Y/N smiles, keeps the jacket on. “You sure you don’t mind me stealing your clothes? It wasn’t intentional, I swear.”

Newt finds it in himself to laugh. “Yeah, I’m sure. We all trade clothes around here enough that it doesn’t matter, anyway.”

Y/N grins at that. “Tell me about it. I’ve been missing a hat for weeks. It could be halfway across the Glade by now. Still, if you want it back–”

Newt shakes his head. “It’s yours.”

Easy as that. Y/N smiles at him, and Newt’s struck by the delight of it all, in knowing that he’s made them happy.

Unconsciously, Y/N wraps the jacket a little closer around themselves. “Thanks, Newt. Really. You’ve always been so nice. I don’t know how you do it.”

“It’s not hard to be nice around you,” he smiles.

Y/N’s gaze flashes to him, and for the briefest moment, Newt allows himself a spark of hope that they might harbor feelings even half as strong as his. “I could say the same thing about you,” they breathe.

Something on the periphery of Newt’s vision catches his attention; Minho left his side when he saw Y/N coming and is now standing with Zart. The Runner gives Newt an encouraging thumbs up and Newt tries to fight the urge to throw something at him.

Then again, maybe the other boy isn’t entirely wrong. Newt straightens up and tries to prepare himself as best he can.

“I was thinking,” he begins, “I know we’ve been good friends and all, but don’t you ever wish there was something more? That we could be something more?”

Y/N’s eyes are shining, Newt doesn’t know that he’s ever seen a better sight. “I do,” they reply, and that’s all Newt needs to finish his thought.

“I like you,” he says simply, “I like you a lot. More than I should. More than I know how to handle. If there’s any chance that you might feel the same, I don’t think I’d ever be happier.”

Y/N beams at him. “I like you too, Newt. I haven’t told you all this time because I was scared of ruining the friendship, but I like you. Always will.”

Just like that, Newt’s day is made.

tmr tag list: @rogueanschel, @retvenkos, @ellobruv, @neewtmas, @thatfangirl42, @hiya-its-amber, @gods-fools-heroes, @hope92100, @23victoria

[sehnsuchts-trunken]

Dearest Mary,

may I please request something where Riven and reader [girlfriend/fiancée/wife] are themselves with neck kisses and annoy Sky [maybe reader's brother] and the others?

absolutely!!

drunk riven and drunk reader. and drunk sky and drunk bloom.

You held the bottle of liquor high in one hand as you sat down in Riven's lap, facing him, resting your forehead against his shoulder. Admittedly, you were drunk as hell. And the world was starting to spin. And the fact that Riven was sitting in this damned corner, just talking to Sky instead of being on the dancefloor, with you, his fiancé, was annoying the crap out of you.

"Riv", you muttered, lazily pressing a kiss to his shoulder. "Riv, you're a fucking bore."

"You're wasted", he said, putting an arm around your back to hold you in place (probably to not have you slip down and crash to the ground, not trusting you to hold yourself up anymore).

You moved, slowly working your way up to his jaw while you talked.

"Yeah, and you're not. That's my problem."

He groaned softly when you suddenly bit down on his skin, tilting his head just a little to give you more room. You grinned.

"Have never wanted to witness that, still don't want to witness that", Sky said, and despite yourself you turned around to glare at him. And perhaps take a swig from your bottle.

"Bogger off", you huffed, sticking your tongue out at him.

Drunk Sky was always an experience. Which you'd had. Too often. Really. The first time you'd drunk had also been the first time he'd drunk. And you'd regularly gone to parties together after that. For the entirety of your teenage years, from the very first Alfea get-together to the last post-graduate one.

He only rolled his eyes and hid his nose in Bloom's hair, who sat - asleep - in between his legs, her head resting against his chest.

You turned back around and crossed your arms behind Riven's neck, grinning at him, almost having forgotten about your short conversation with Sky again.

"So?", you asked, leaning forward to give him a quick peck on the lips. "Dance with me? Pleaseeeeeee?"

He laughed.

"Anything for you."

[azumasoroshi]

minidura chapter 11 react

ok i found chapter 11 translated by amnemonie on tumblr (thank you thank you thank you and if you want me to take this down i will!!) but there's no guarantee ill be able to find the rest lmAOo we'll see

HOT MAN!!! HOT MAN

i mean what no pathetic sopping wet man

cat face izaya i thought id never see you again

man after realizing there's a minidura tag i saw a post that was like "i wish minidura got animated like bsd wan" and like. YEAH. PLEASE

it would be the perfect revival of the durarara fandom pleaseeeeeee do it for meeeeeeee we could revive durarara like we revived trigun

and i need shizuo izaya and shinra cooking together being animated. please

anyway izaya looks like he really doesnt wanna be here in that last panel and i mildly spoiled myself on the comments/reblogs saying this one is really mean to izaya which you know i live for. [cracks knuckles] i hope he gets hit by a truck but like an emotional one because that's the only one he'd really react to

oh god he's more pathetic than i thought he'd be

they're really looking at him like "damn bitch you good" which is fair

bro summoned up all his courage to ask 😭rip bozo

??????????? THEY TOLD YOU HE'D BE WITH THEM

izaya simultaneously has the best social skills known to man and the WORST social skills known to man

ill never stop bringing this up but. now presenting orihara "i love humans because they're so unpredictable" izaya getting fucked by humans' predictability everybody

and here we see izaya walking awkwardly in his natural habitat, trying to eat cake with high schoolers /j

kadota casually calling out izaya on his bullshit bkgjdSGKHDSHds

he just wants to eat cakeeeee someone go with him

not me though i wouldnt be caught dead with that man

i swear walker's face gets longer every time i see him and it tickles me so much

aaaand cue shizuo on stage right

god bless erika for suggesting that he invite shizuo cuz id have done it myself

also "just today". are you implying that you want to see shizuo every other day. izaya.

WAIT

WAIT IS TODAY IZAYA'S BIRTHDAY

OH

oh my god thats actually sad okay

id say to ask namie but namie probably rejected him already without even letting him finish the question bkfdgjhgf

shinra keeping up the stupid anniversaries trend from that other chapter we love a consistent malewife

man shiki he wasnt even here for work 😭 at least he got some food although karasumi does not look that good if im being honest

at least compared to cake

shinraaaa you FORGOTTTT

may 4th is the date of my statistics exam but i swear ill celebrate it for you izaya. ill even mark it down on my calendar

oh 💀 namie is as delusional as i am. love that for her

he's even singing to himself ohhhhh poor baby...(i say this as if i'm not grinning wildly to myself in my room rn)

i swear i feel bad for him but he's so fun to bully

man i remember those fics where shizuo was the only one to remember izaya's birthday bgkjhfdgfd i guess those were founded from somewhere (even if his gifts were things like 'not chasing him today' or sending him black roses)

oh my god 😭 he's so desperate at this point i didnt think he'd actually be happy to see shizu-chan

even grabbing him by the arms bkgdssdkahdskjhgsdsd

this is gonna end badly though if the comments/reblogs i read have anything to say about it

😭yep the izaya bullying is real

SHIZUO NOOOOOOOOOOOO THATS BASICALLY THE WHOLE CAKE

izaya's conscious too 💀 MAN

part of me feels like this is narita's personal revenge against the shizaya fans in his fanbase askdbgskjhsdhgsd shizuo needs to be extra cruel to prove he's not gay

he's so happy to just get birthday textssssss this is so sad

[mountswhore]

Your baby girl mocking Mason and calling him Mase instead of Daddy and its just cute and funny pleaseeeeeee. Love ur blog 😘 xxxxxxxx

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐞 — mason mount

summary: after hearing you call Mason 'Mase' for so long, Callie had picked it up.

notes: requests are closed, but my asks are open! i decided to make this a tiny little blurb, so don't expect a lot lmao

“Cal, go get mummy,” Mason spoke to your four-year old daughter, jumping onto the bathroom counter. He’d taken Callie out today, to enjoy some time with her whilst he wasn’t working, taking her to see the ducks and get some ice cream. And he’d gotten home, ready to take her for a much needed bath. Until he’d spotten the large, eight-legged monster sitting by the plug hole. For him, he’d be able to sleep like a baby knowing a spider was missing it’s legs and was far away from your home, but you couldn’t. You’d always scoop it up and let it outside.

Callie had slid down the stairs, running to the kitchen, where you were making dinner for the three of you. You smiled at the sight of your daughter, who began pulling you with her upstairs. “Mase is scared.” You heard, but you weren’t entirely sure you’d heard correctly. There was no way Callie had called her father ‘Mase’. You shrugged it off and followed her upstairs, seeing Mason cradling himself on the counter as he watched the spider crawl around the tub.

“Get it out of my house.” Mason demanded, holding his hand out to Callie, pulling her away from the bathtub and keeping her close to him. You rolled your eyes at your childish husband, letting the spider crawl onto your hand and walking it downstairs. You had no fear of spiders, they were harmless little things. Mason was retching thinking about them, and yet could hold a python.

Bathtime was back on schedule, and you had continued making dinner, serving it up just as the pair had walked back downstairs. This time Callie was sitting on his shoulders, earning a laugh from you as you gazed up at her. “Mummy look, I’m taller than you. See?” You nodded and patted her seat at the table, tucking her in before sitting opposite Mason.

“How’s dinner, you two?” You questioned, noticing Mason was almost finished with his and Callie was almost inhaling it. These two were carbon copies of each other. You took their silence as a compliment and continued to eat your food, exhausted from your day of work. Mason was home for a week or two, meaning he had all the time in the world to spend with his daughter and you.

With dinner now finished and the dishwasher on, the three of you were on your way to bed after a busy day. Whilst Mason watched over Callie as she brushed her teeth, you’d gotten her room ready. Nightlight on, curtains closed, her favourite teddy beside her pillow. She climbed into bed, tucking herself in, and waited for her goodnight kiss. Mason kissed her cheek, scruffing her hair up, and watched as you smoothed her hair back down whilst you kissed her cheek.

“Night, Cal.” You hummed quietly, turning round to leave the room. Mason followed slowly, not wanting to take his eyes away from his angel. But he wanted her asleep as quickly as possible, so the pair of you could spend some time together.

“Night mummy,” she called back, both of you stopping at her bedroom door and turning around, “night Mase.” She finished, closing her eyes and squeezing her arms tightly around her teddy. There it was again, she’d confirmed your suspicions from earlier. She was calling Mason ‘Mase’. You both shared a look, Mason on the brink of laughter.

“Excuse me, little one,” Mason mentioned, approaching her and tickling her chest. The young girl curled up and laughed, the fake sleeping now finished. “It’s daddy to you, where have you gotten ‘Mase’ from?” He asked, sitting beside her in bed. She just stared up at her daddy, then looked at you. Without saying a word, Mason had figured it out. “Go to sleep, trouble.”

Mason left her room once again and was chuckling as he got himself into bed. You’d joined him, feeling his arms wrap around you like they always did. Even with the light out, you could see him still dying of laughter.

“What is so funny, Mase?” You wondered, propping yourself up with your elbows and giving him a strange look.

“She’s getting Mase from you, idiot,” Mason pointed out, you mentally facepalming. You didn’t call Mason anything else, even in public, it had always been Mase. It was very rare you called him by his proper name. You laid your head on your husband’s chest, feeling his hands drag up and down your exposed skin.

“Would you prefer me to call you daddy, so she addresses you properly?” You asked, already knowing what’s running through his mind.

“That wouldn’t be so bad.” He mumbled into your hair, hands dropping lower and lower down your back. You swatted him away, giggling to yourself at your childish husband.