#billy explode now

[billyposting]

very peculiar and strange billy kid zzz robotic-focused headcanons

nsfw at the bottom below the cut idk why mobile doesnt cut it but minors dni for that

is this robophilia? maybe. likely. possibly. now get a move on

i really like this stupid angle

☆ hardware ⇢ imagine:

billy��s optics glowing brighter every time he’s excited or whenever he sees something he really likes

billy’s voice box not actually being in his neck, so when closer to him his voice sounds more like it comes from his chest

billy making chirping or glitchy sounds instead of yes or no, or wordless mechanical trills just because he’s bored

billy’s engine (not w-engine, i mean his core motor engine thing) thrumming louder when he’s pumped up or exhilarated

billy dipping his hair in a bowl of lukewarm water and lying there for a while, since his hair is synthetic and needs to be cared for like a wig

billy’s cooling system being both liquid and fan, since he needs liquid to run through the denser parts of his body and the fans to back them up

billy’s cooling fans being located down his lower spine, since they’re an opening to his inner body, and is why his jacket was short (for wind to blow through)

billy giddily getting custom name decals on his audial cups (from the Calydonians), ecstatically admiring them in the mirror once completed

billy window shopping for decals that he won’t actually get, since the “headshot” one on his chest is enough for now

billy’s hands, being one of his more intricate body parts, constantly being flexed and shown off for how much he maintains and takes care of them

billy’s face shield being detachable once he unlocks his audial brackets from the inside, allowing him to remove the shield when he needs to clean out his optics

billy’s optics being the most complicated part of his external body, and hence the most delicate, causing him to allow nobody but himself to maintain them

billy’s body temperature sitting around 50°C when comfortable and relaxed, and increasing to 90 when his body revs up for activity

billy letting others connect to him for a charge or data, as long as they had compatible wires

billy readily taking hits during a fight, ignoring his system repeatedly warning against it, since he knows he can be repaired but his family can’t

☆ software ⇢ imagine:

billy downloading media files to watch or listen to in his head during downtime

billy purposely turning off his automatic data search, preferring to learn organically through talking to people and asking questions

billy using his logic core for decision making instead of his direct processor, since it’s “him”, not “the machine”

billy intentionally disabling his auto aim during a fight, since the headshots he gets naturally are a lot more satisfying

billy being able to “screenshot” any moment he can see, and giggling out a fake “chk-shk!” while doing so

billy repeating the audio files of nice things people have said to him whenever he feels down, or when he feels like he’s not like a person enough

very odd nsfw hcs below cut (mdni)

ok technically this is him masturbating but there are like. straight up no p/v mentions. oh my god its robophilia

i still think he has a crazy metal waist game and people should pull him by his belt chain more often

☆ nsfw ⇢ imagine:

billy’s charging port inner side being more sensitive than the rest of his body, causing him to hide away since he feels vulnerable while charging

billy awkwardly searching up how humans get intimate, wishing there was someone who would touch and feel him like how the humans he’s watching would

billy guiltily looking up sensitivity modifications after much frustration, only to be dismayed when he finds that his model may be too outdated to be compatible with any of the latest upgrades

billy desperately feeling himself and stimulating his charge port, plugging and unplugging his cord since it’s the closest way his body could process pleasure

billy annoyed that this external stimulation didn’t feel like enough, and that it interfered with his actual recharge time

billy opening his chassis, looking for the internal nodes that supposedly indicated the statuses of his various inner systems and were only for maintenance

billy carefully and gently rubbing one of these nodes to hopefully get a kick from it, surprisedly letting out a glitched gasp when the node sends a wave of electrical ecstasy directly to his processor

billy, after confirming that he wasn’t damaging himself, dislodges the panel around his crotch and starts massaging the lined node array, mimicking how he saw human women do it

billy immediately indulging in this newfound stimulation, probing and prodding gently at the nodes and letting out satisfied, modulated sighs

billy lowering his vocal volume to the minimum, after realising he could get too loud if he got carried away

billy getting a hang of how this “self servicing” was going, delighted he found that his body, despite supposedly a weapon for combat, had a roundabout way of feeling good

billy daringly letting the metallic part of his charge cable onto himself and pressing it against his nodes, instantly getting hit by an intense surge of voltaic pleasure

billy doing it again and again, grazing his nodes with the metal ending, dizzy from how the quick jolts flooded his sensors with an addictive, electric euphoria

billy’s fans whirring hopelessly as his body temperature skyrockets from how much intoxicating stimulation had to be processed

billy ignoring multiple system warnings of potential circuit fires, dizzily and desperately chasing after a rousing, thrilling high

billy finally reaching a climactic electrical shock, his body spasming from both a stimulation and charge overload, his back arching as his fans work overtime to try and keep him cool

billy surprised after seeing that his battery was now at fuel capacity??? ok new recharge strat

billy occasionally letting out frizzed, glitchy gasps of monica’s name, and immediately shutting his voice box down in embarrassment

huh

[darya-bell]

I knew you in another life

You had that same look in your eyes

I love you, don't act so surprised

[seahorsepencils]

Okay, hear me out.

What if the Doctor accidentally regenerated into the wrong Rose?

Maybe we were supposed to get our first Doctor played by a trans woman of color in the form of Rose Noble. But the TARDIS misunderstood and accidentally spit out Billie Piper's Rose. And by the time it realized the mistake, it was too late.

The next season's plot arc: teaching the TARDIS to unlearn racial and cisgender bias.

[puppetdeer-who]

I think she’s neat

[beartitled]

The bear creatüre has a bachelor degree now

Yea I graduated uni today 🐻‍❄️🎓🎉

Feels weird tbh 💥

My brain did not register this information yet

Diploma comic reveal when? 👀

[virgil-upinthestars]

post ep 5 - SPOILERS

okay okay okay i think billy yeeted them out of the road. we see jen clawing up from the dirt in trailer footage, i think billy just chucked em back to westview. i don't think he's quite there at murder yet, seeing his last conversation with agatha, which? slay king. as a witch and practicing pagan, love him. "no, not for me" you take that negative energy and turn it right on its fuckin head sweetheart. but also please for the love of the gods don't get carried away, don't commit murder, your father would probably have a stroke even if your mother would sit there yelling you're doing great sweetie!!

also i think the reason why rio wasn't there in the last scene was bc she was collecting alice's body. now i'm imagining her walking out, seeing billy standing there alone with lighting coming from his hands and a scarlet witch crown like

[abrubag]

Butchlander - She's Not Afraid

youtube

[dark-elf-writes]

What I’m saying is whatever assassin training Desmond got before leaving the farm could be put to great use pole dancing and as an added bonus imagine Bill’s face when he learned his son was both a bartender and a dancer at the club he worked at.

[stuckasmain]

I’m free!!!

The morning of September 24th is the longest of Pio’s life. He stays despite himself to set things right. The memory of Billy still fresh on his mind.

This fic absolutely would not have happened without @tychomagneticanomaly-1 , thank you 😭

I’m so tired, I’m glad I’m finally done and hope it’s enjoyable, comments encouraged etc etc

[undead-vamp]

OSGDGJFTŔGMFHFGHF

[bulletbilltime]

Whoever decided to use This Is What Remains by Some Are Lonely to soundtrack an extremely depressing ending to a LiS fic... know that you have caused untold emotional damage and I keep returning to that song and imagining extremely depressing scenarios with blorbos because of you. This is what you have done to me /lh

[shesquicksand]

Wild of me to want other artists to lead by MGK’s example of all people

[hoperese]

Image of Us LN4

On the brink of losing his career due to mounting scandals and a reckless reputation, Lando Norris found an unexpected solution—a marriage of convenience. Once seen as a playboy and party boy, his image transformed overnight when he married his best friend, not for love, but to salvage his public image and silence the media.

word count: 3467 (almost fried my brain)

pairing: lando norris x reader

content: best friends to fake marriage to real love (this one will be a rollercoaster)

warning: contains themes of emotional pressure, anxiety surrounding the future and identity, burnout, implied media harassment. It also explores feelings of inadequacy, fear of failure, and strained family expectations. Reader discretion is advised.

Image of Us Masterlist

episode title: EP 01. Mr and Mrs

song: About You by The 1975, Burnout by Sugarfree, Piano Man by Billy Joel

Who would've thought that two kids who were complete opposites would become best friends?

That’s what Lando always wondered whenever he was with his best friend, Y/N. She was the complete opposite of him—smart, quiet, and kind. There was something about her that made people think she was a walking ray of sunshine, or even Saint Thérèse herself, because of her calm and gentle nature.

“Do you like cars?” a young Lando asked one day during kindergarten. Y/N looked up curiously from the storybook she was reading. While most kids ran around during playtime, she preferred the quiet—easily overwhelmed by noise. But this boy, surprisingly, was calm when he spoke to her.

She nodded slowly in response. Lando grinned and said, “I want to drive one someday.”

She didn’t reply immediately, just stared at him silently.

He paused, a little worried. “Did I upset you?”

She shook her head. “I was waiting for you… to finish.”

Lando blinked. She was different—quiet, thoughtful, maybe even a little weird. But he liked it. And that day, he decided she would be his best friend.

To say Lando���s world was different was an understatement, Y/N often thought.

Back in their school days, Lando was often gone for karting competitions. Still, she would sometimes show up to support him, quietly cheering him on from the sidelines. And of course, she always helped him catch up on schoolwork—something his mother, Cisca, thought was especially sweet. It warmed her heart how the two remained so attached over the years.

It was a Saturday afternoon, and Y/N was at the Norris household once again. She let out a sigh as Lando groaned for the tenth time about a lecture he didn’t want to go through.

"Just follow the notes, Lando," she said patiently, pointing at the page.

“You’re tricking me,” he muttered under his breath, clearly frustrated.

From across the room, Adam and Cisca observed the two children with amused expressions.

“Wouldn’t it be funny if they were still together years from now?” Adam whispered to his wife.

Cisca smirked and glanced at him. “He’s just in denial about not fancying her.”

Sometimes, Cisca would tease Lando about it, and he would blush furiously, always insisting, “Y/N’s just my best friend!”

But was she?

Despite their different paths—Lando chasing his karting dreams and Y/N still figuring out her future—they never lost touch. No matter how busy life got, they always found their way back to each other.

One summer afternoon, they were lounging in the backyard of the Norris house, the sun casting soft shadows as a warm breeze passed through the trees. Y/N sat unusually quiet, her fingers absentmindedly picking at the grass.

Lando glanced at her, noticing the familiar faraway look in her eyes. He gently nudged her knee with his own, his voice low but knowing.

"Are you gonna share what's going on, or are you gonna let it build up until you explode?"

Y/N blinked, caught off guard, but not surprised—Lando always saw through her silences. She looked at him, hesitant, then finally said, “I don’t know what I want…”

She paused, her voice quieter now. “My parents keep asking—college, career, future… but I don’t know. And I hate that I don’t. It feels like everything’s moving so fast and I’m just… stuck. Like if I don’t figure it out soon, it’s going to crush me.”

Lando didn’t speak right away. He just sat there with her, letting her words settle. Because if there was one thing he understood—especially being thrown into the chaos of racing so young—it was the pressure of the future, and the fear of not being ready for it.

“Am I behind?” she mumbled, her voice barely audible.

Lando turned his head slightly, watching her as she stared down at her hands, fidgeting with the threads on the edge of her shorts.

“Everyone already knows what they want to do,” she continued, her voice shaky now. “And me? I mean… I’ve thought about it. I’ve dreamed about things. But sometimes, those dreams feel so big they scare me. What if I can’t do it? What if I’m just not enough?”

She swallowed hard.

“I don’t want to waste all the hard work my parents put into giving me everything. I don’t want to be the reason it all meant nothing just because I… don’t know what I’m doing.”

There was a beat of silence. Not heavy—just thoughtful.

Then Lando, who had been quietly watching the clouds drift overhead, leaned back on his elbows and said softly, “You’re not behind, Y/N.”

She looked at him, unsure whether to believe it.

“Just because people act like they’ve got it all figured out doesn’t mean they actually do. Trust me, I’ve been around a lot of people who look confident but are just winging it,” he said with a crooked smile.

He glanced at her again, more seriously this time. “Dreams being big doesn’t mean they’re impossible. It just means they matter.”

She looked away, a small breath escaping her lips like a release of all that tension.

“And you…” he nudged her knee again, gentler this time, “you’ll figure it out. And I’ll be right here when you do.”

She didn’t want him to make a promise like that—not something so soft, so certain.

But in that moment, she held on to it.

Even if it wasn’t meant to last forever, it grounded her. A steady hand in the chaos of not knowing.

As time passed, their lives began to move faster. Lando's karting career evolved at lightning speed—sponsors, championships, weekends spent in different countries. By the time he reached Formula 3, then Formula 2, everything was sharper, louder, more demanding. His name started showing up in articles, in interviews, on social media.

And Y/N?

She was chasing her own dream—quietly, determinedly. School, applications, late-night studying. Her world was textbooks and essays and planning a future she wasn’t even sure she’d reach.

They still talked, but it wasn’t like before.

Sometimes messages were left on read. Sometimes phone calls ended with a soft “Sorry, I have to go.” And even when they did talk, there was a growing space between them—made of time zones, obligations, and silent moments where neither of them knew what to say.

She tried not to overthink it. He’s just busy. You’re just busy. That’s what happens when people grow up. It’s not personal.

But some nights, when her room was quiet and her phone screen dimmed from a message that never came, the ache was undeniable.

I don’t resent him, she told herself. I could never resent him.

She was proud. God, she was proud of him. Watching him on TV, seeing his name flash on leaderboards—he had everything he dreamed of.

But sometimes, deep down, she wondered…

Would he still promise to be there, if I asked him now? Or have we both silently let go of that moment in the backyard?

Because no matter how fast she ran toward her future, it always felt like she was chasing something—someone—who was slipping further and further away.

Y/N felt herself maturing over the years—slowly, but noticeably.

Life was busy now. College consumed most of her time, especially since she chose Business Administration, a course that demanded both discipline and caffeine. Late nights spent typing reports and running numbers became routine. Her world was no longer quiet moments in backyards or childhood promises—it was lectures, group projects, and the dull hum of her laptop fan.

That night was no different. She was curled up on her bed, glasses slipping down her nose, eyes heavy with exhaustion as she typed out the last paragraph of a marketing paper. Sleep was all she wanted—desperately, achingly needed.

Just as she hovered over the save button, her phone buzzed loudly beside her. She frowned, reaching for it without checking the caller ID.

“Hello?” she answered, voice soft and a little groggy.

“Y/N,” came the familiar voice, breathless and electric. “I got in.”

She blinked. “What?”

“I got in,” he repeated, slower this time. “McLaren. I’m in.”

Her eyes widened, suddenly more awake than she’d been all week. She sat up straighter. “Oh my—Lan! That’s amazing!”

He laughed on the other end, the sound bright and genuine. It filled her chest with warmth.

“Oh my God, this means—this means Formula 1, right? You’re actually going to F1! I mean, of course you are, but like… actually now.”

He let her ramble, chuckling softly as she sputtered excitement. “You’re going to race with the big names now. I can’t believe it—no, I can believe it. You’ve worked so hard. You deserve this so much.”

“Thanks, sunshine,” he murmured, voice soft.

She paused, smile lingering on her lips. He hadn’t called her that in years.

And suddenly, despite the distance and the years and the changes between them—she felt like that girl again, sitting in his backyard, legs tangled in the grass, listening to a boy with big dreams talk about driving.

Except this time, the dream was real.

That little promise he made all those years ago—“I’ll be right here when you figure it out”—turned out to be true, after all.

It was her graduation day.

Her parents were fussing over her, proudly adjusting the gown on their youngest as she groaned in mild frustration. The ceremony had gone on way too long, and all she really wanted was to go home, eat, and sleep for a week straight.

“I swear, if I hear another name being called, I’ll lose my mind,” she muttered under her breath, fidgeting with the sleeves of her robe.

But then—her name echoed across the hall.

“Y/N L/N, Cum Laude.”

She blinked. Wait… what?

The moment slowed. Her heart stopped.

She looked toward her parents just in time to catch the shift in their expressions—from happy… to shocked. Her mother’s hand covered her mouth while her father blinked, eyes wide with disbelief. They didn’t know. She hadn’t told them. She wanted it to be a surprise.

And it was.

As she rose and walked across the stage, nerves buzzing through her chest, the spotlight felt less intimidating than she expected. She shook hands with the school director, smiled politely for the photo, and took a breath.

Then her eyes scanned the crowd—and paused.

There. Just behind her parents.

Messy brown curls, a familiar grin, tall frame standing proud.

No way.

Her breath caught in her throat.

*It can’t be him… He’s supposed to be in another country. Racing. Training. Not—here.

When the ceremony finally ended, and the crowd began to break into applause and chatter, she walked out slowly, still dazed. Her friends swarmed her, her family approached with hugs—but none of it really landed.

Because there he was.

Standing in front of her with a sheepish smile, holding a small bouquet—crocheted flowers, in her favorite colors.

He knew she didn’t like real ones—said they die too easily.

“Surprise?” he said, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly.

She blinked, processing the moment.

And then, without warning, smacked his arm.

“Ow—hey!” he winced.

“You said—you said you wouldn’t come back home, you idiot!” she muttered, eyes glassy.

He laughed through the sting, rubbing his arm. “Yeah, I lied. You really think I’d miss this?”

Her lips trembled, and for a second, she didn’t say anything.

Then quietly, she smiled. “You remembered.”

He grinned. “Of course I did. You promised to figure things out… and I promised I’d be there when you did.”

The afterparty was in full swing, laughter echoing from inside the house while music played faintly in the background. But Y/N found herself out on the patio, away from the noise, sitting quietly with a plate of cake in her lap.

Still in her silk blue dress, her heels kicked off to the side, she took another bite and mumbled under her breath, “You’re insane.”

Lando, leaning on the railing beside her with a drink in hand, chuckled. “Yet here you are—enjoying the cake I brought.”

She shot him a glare before stabbing another piece dramatically and shoving it in her mouth. He laughed again, clearly not taking the offense seriously.

The silence that followed was a comfortable one, the kind that only existed between people who’d known each other forever.

“I’m thinking of finding a job soon,” she said suddenly, breaking the quiet. Her voice was calm, but there was a weight behind it. “I want to start making a life already.”

Lando glanced over at her. “Do your parents know?”

She hesitated, poking at the cake with her fork. “No… not yet.”

He didn’t press, just waited.

She looked up at him, her expression softer now. “My sister’s already working. I’m the last one at home. I just… I want to repay them, you know? For everything. For putting up with me not knowing what I wanted.”

Her gaze dropped again, back to the half-eaten slice in her hands.

“I want them to know it was worth it.”

Lando leaned a little closer, voice lower now. “Y/N… it already was.”

She didn’t answer right away—but her grip on the fork eased, and her shoulders relaxed just a little.

“Mom has… separation anxiety. Or at least, that’s what we think,” Y/N said quietly, the corners of her lips lifting in a faint smile. “She fusses over my sister constantly—calls during her hospital breaks just to check in. And now with me wanting to start working too…”

She paused, eyes drifting toward the stars above them, her voice softening.

“Dad acts like he’s fine. Always pretending to be unbothered. But he’s the soft one, really. I can tell. They both try so hard to seem okay with the idea of us growing up, moving out, building our own lives…” Her fingers curled around the edge of the plate. “But I know the thought of their daughters being far away makes them uneasy.”

“It’s hard,” she murmured. “Wanting to move forward and still worrying if it’ll make them feel left behind.”

Lando watched her in silence for a moment. The way her voice wavered just slightly, the guilt tucked behind her words—he knew that feeling. Maybe more than he ever admitted.

“I get it,” he said eventually, his voice low but steady. “Leaving’s never as simple as packing a bag and going. You always leave little pieces of yourself behind.”

She glanced at him, surprised.

He offered a half-smile. “When I started traveling for karting, I used to feel bad all the time. I’d call Mum after every race, even if I lost. I’d feel guilty for not being home more, for not being… normal, I guess. I thought chasing something meant I was selfish.”

There was a pause as he looked down at his hands.

“But then I realized… our parents don’t want us to stay small just so they can feel comfortable. They’re scared, yeah. But they’re proud too. They’re just not always good at showing both at once.”

Y/N didn’t reply, but the crease in her brow slowly softened. Lando nudged her shoulder gently.

“They’ll be okay,” he said. “You’re not leaving them behind—you’re just building what they worked so hard to give you in the first place.”

She let out a small breath, as if finally releasing something she’d been holding in for too long.

And for a moment, there was nothing between them but the stars, the soft hum of celebration behind them, and the quiet knowledge that maybe, just maybe, they were both learning how to grow without letting go completely.

Whoever told her that finding a job would be exciting clearly left out how draining it could be.

Y/N sat in a waiting room, hands clasped in her lap, her nerves humming quietly beneath the polished fabric of her slacks. The room was quiet except for the occasional shuffle of papers and the soft ding of the elevator down the hall.

Her phone buzzed.

She glanced down, expecting maybe a reminder or a promo email—but instead, her screen lit up with a message from Lando.

Lando: Good luck :D ik you can do it

A soft smile tugged at her lips. She tapped the heart reaction to the message, the simple words giving her just enough calm to take a breath.

Her name was called.

She stood up, exhaled slowly, and walked into the interview room—shoulders back, heart steady.

It was already dark when she returned to her apartment, the air outside humid with summer. She unlocked the door, expecting silence and leftover takeout.

Instead, the hallway lights were on—and there he was.

Lando, leaning in the doorway to her kitchen, holding a tiny cake with a flickering candle. A smug little smile played on his lips.

“Congrats?” he offered casually.

She blinked, caught off guard. “You’re going to jinx it.”

“Nope. Nuh-uh,” he said, walking toward her and shaking his head. “Don’t even think like that.”

He held out the cake. A small bento-style one, her favorite kind—minimal, thoughtful.

In neat lettering, it read: Congrats on surviving the first job hunt.

“Blow the candle, darling,” he said, grin widening.

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide the warmth that bloomed in her chest. “You’re celebrating for nothing.”

Lando tilted his head. “That’s where you’re wrong. Showing up, putting yourself out there, not giving up—that’s something.”

She looked at him for a moment longer, then leaned in and gently blew out the candle.

And just like that, the weight of the day didn’t feel quite so heavy anymore.

Suddenly, the blaring sound of her alarm cut through the silence.

Y/N jolted awake, her heart racing for a second before her mind caught up.

Just a dream. Or rather—a memory.

Fragments of it lingered: the warm glow of candlelight, the soft curve of Lando’s grin, the sweetness of cake and comfort and presence.

She blinked a few times, letting her eyes adjust to the dim morning light filtering through her curtains. The clock on her nightstand glowed: 6:20 AM.

Another day. Another early start.

With a quiet sigh, she swung her legs over the edge of the bed, stretching her arms above her head as her spine cracked softly in protest. She sat there for a moment, letting the cool air wake her fully, then moved to the bathroom.

The sound of water running filled the small space as she brushed her teeth and stepped into the shower, the warmth helping ground her in the present.

The memory faded with the steam, but the feeling it left behind remained—a strange mix of nostalgia, motivation, and something else she couldn’t quite name.

Because even if it had been just a dream, it reminded her that somewhere along the way… she’d survived. She’d grown. And maybe, deep down, she was still being cheered on—even if just in memory.

Thankfully, work was light that day, and Y/N managed to head home earlier than usual. She welcomed the quiet—finally slipping out of her work shoes, tossing her bag on the couch, and curling up with a warm drink and the silence she’d been craving all week.

But peace, apparently, had a short lifespan.

The doorbell rang.

She frowned, reluctantly dragging herself up and glancing at the door cam on her phone.

Lando.

Brows furrowed, she unlocked the door—only for him to rush inside the moment it opened.

“Marry me.”

She blinked, completely thrown off.

“…Excuse me?”

He stood there, a little breathless, clearly having rushed. His curls were slightly damp from sweat or stress—possibly both—and his eyes were wide, desperate, a little unhinged.

“My career’s a mess,” he said quickly. “Gossip’s everywhere. The press won’t shut up. They're dragging everything I’ve ever done into the light again, twisting things I didn’t even mean. I just—” He paused, trying to breathe. “I need you to be my wife. Temporarily. Fake, obviously. Like… play house.”

Y/N stared at him. Then snorted. Loudly.

He glared. “I’m serious.”

“Are you hearing yourself right now?” she said, crossing her arms. “You think people are going to believe that?”

He hesitated.

He wanted to tell her everything—the tabloid headlines, the viral posts, the fans speculating that they already were a couple. The photos over the years: late-night airport sightings, soft looks across paddocks, her showing up to races. The way the media ran with it like wildfire, spinning their friendship into a quiet, secret romance.

But he didn’t say any of that.

Instead, he stepped closer, dropping his voice.

“They will. Because most of them already do.”

Y/N stared at him again, heart thudding a little harder now, for an entirely different reason.

“…Just please,” he added, softer now. “I need this.”

taglist: @n3versatisfied, @alana4610, @boocmarks, @areej003

[on-the-clear-blue]

What if Danny didn't die? He does open the portal but for the first time in their lives the Fentons followed OSHA regulations.

He doesn't have the powers, but he was right there when the portal opened, he saw the tear in reality and it...it did things.

It wasn't something that a humans mind was supposed to see, while the Infinite Realms are the in-between dimensions, and what is in-between the in-between?

Elder gods, slumbering calamities, fallen angels hid from their gods ever present eye, righteous spirits who reached nirvana, monsters beyond imagination...

The crack before the Realms snapped to his dimension was only open for a mere moment, a single millisecond but to the young boy it was eternity, and he could only watches as all those beings turned their attentions to him, they saw him, observed him as much as he did them.

He had fallen, screaming as he clutched his eyes, his eyes and ears were bleeding, his brain pounded so hard it felt as if it was going to knock out his eyeballs, Sam and Tucker, spared from it all as they had turned their heads when the lightning flashed and rent the portal open could only rush to the boy, trying to help him but all he could do was scream. Because what was beyond had saw him, and gave him a gift.

---

Far away, in a tall tower, a man with a gleaming gold helmet shuddered as the ankh of light in front of him shattered.

He fell to the floor, the minor magic he used failing as the more complex spell fizzled and broke, leaving him painfully wheezing on the ground, clutching at his chest.

"N-no...T-this can not be...T-The order...it...it failed...it can not fail!" Dragging himself across the Tower of Orders floor, Dr. Fate forced himself over to a lone summoning circle, falling onto it with an exhausted groan, the Gaurdian of Order muttered a soft word, and the circle flared, and in an instant he was gone, leaving the Tower shaking it it's wake.

---

On the couch of the House of Magic, John Constantine was feeling as if the world had fucked him so hard in the ass he would never be able to walk straight ever again.

And with the pounding in his skull from a truly deadly hangover wasn't helping either.

Nor was the half dead Dr. Fate puking up his guts in his living room.

"Argh" which translated to "What the bloody fuck are you doing in my house you daft shiny headed prick" but John didn't really have the strength to say that.

"Blugh" was what the ever regal Dr. Fate responded with, which obviously meant "The border between realities have been broken, the Beyond Dark knows of our existence and has seen our world, they have come to either eat upon our existence and reality or defend agaisnt the others that seek to only fill their own unexistance."

John of course, carefully and gracefully pissed himself.

---

In Faccuet City, a young Billy Batson screamed as his head exploded with noise, the gods and heros alike were all suddenly the strongest they had ever been, their powers flooded and overwhelmed his mortal form, and to save his life, the Champion of Magic forced itself into being.

Even in the Champions form the sudden influx of godly might was almost too much, steam charged with lightning billowed off him in great plooms, sparks zapped from his finger tips to the ground, and the air stunk of ozone all around him.

The gods were ranting, each talking over each other, debating in so many dead languages Billy's mind could keep up the translations.

It wasn't until Solomons voice boomed over the others that the voices fell quiet. "ENOUGH! NOW IS NOT THE TIME OF IN FIGHTING, THE BEYOND IS AT OUR DOOR..."

Taking a breath even if he didn't need it, the ancient king looked all the years he had lived and then some, "Young William...oh dear precious boy...our dear son. A great advent has begun, a door which should never been opened has been thrown wide...the beasts you face, the abominations of teeth and tentacles are just the mites that have slipped under the door...waht is to come will make all that you have faced look like mice...we will not have enough time to prepare you with what is to come..."

Solomons voice broke at the end, and he hung his head in the mental image in Billy's head "Seek out others, join forces with any. All those in touch with the arcane shall know of what just happened...as Champion you will be the spear head, the general of them all...you will lead them agaisnt the Beyond."

---

It took a week for Danny to come back to himself again, at least a little bit, he still had a haunted look in his eyes, and was far to quiet. He barely spoke at all, but when he did it was in ramblings of things not understood by any of them.

His parents assumed it had been a ghost that left in this state, their hatred for the ectoplasmic beings growing more and more as their son, their boy grew worse.

Jazz, unlike her parents listened to what Danny described, studied what she could and figured out what she couldn't, at each dead en she pushed, with Tuckers help she gained access to computer systems that held secrets of the occult, and with Sam's freely given credit card? Oh she dived deep into spell, trying desperately to find any kind of cure for Danny's predicament.

As time went on the boy only got worse, he had begun seeing the beings in the Beyond, some whispered wisdom, of long lost ways to calm the millions of mutterings in his gray matter and the pounding of his heart, while others screamed, in jubilation and rage, as it is only in being seen did they become real, and becoming real meant they had a foot hold in existence.

The wise figures, while helping had also steered him to their own goals, some told him to hate the jabbering hordes, others said that the only way to truly to be rid of them was to be nothing as well, to go far past being a person, into being one with the Byond.

Some of the mutterings lead to more questions, they spoke of Gods long forgotten and recent, of their betrayals and what they did to fall, others claimed that they were not fallen, that they were there to protect him from those that were.

The more and more he listened the more and more he saw of them, until Danny began to not understand what was real and what wasnt.

So he didn't even flinch when a group of imposing figures were in his room when he came up to his bed, hoping that the voices of Parathax the Unbeliever would be quiet enough for him to sleep.

Oh he did scream quite a bit when the sad trench coat man with a multi fractured sould reached out and touched him.

[ilovejb]

| Bag Duty |

Pairings : G!P Billie Eilish x female!reader

Summary : Billie tags along on a shopping trip and ends up with a reward that doesn’t come until you’re alone.

Warnings : g!p Billie Eilish, public teasing, car head, oral ( Billie r! ) dirty talk, begging

Authors note : both my lips are wet after making this. a tear rolled down my leg

“You’re gonna make me carry that, too?”

Billie’s voice drips with dramatic disbelief as you hand her another shopping bag. She’s already got two on one arm, one in the other hand, and a visible pout blooming on her lips.

You raise your brows. “You offered.”

“That was before I knew we were doing the entire mall,” she mutters, shifting the bags. “I feel like your human coat rack.”

You grin. “You look cute like that.”

“I look used,” she deadpans.

You’re not even trying to hide your amusement. Billie’s dressed in the usual: oversized hoodie (green), black sweats, chain barely visible under her collar, and her signature “you’re lucky I’m here” attitude.

You’re in Sephora now—final stop, supposedly. The lighting is bright, Billie’s already been sprayed with three perfumes, and you’ve just asked her to hold out her arm so you can test another lipstick shade.

She sighs, extending her wrist with all the enthusiasm of someone donating a kidney.

You hum thoughtfully, swatching coral pink on her pale skin. “Hmm. Not the one.”

“I could’ve told you that without sacrificing more skin,” she grumbles.

You lean in close, like you’re gonna whisper something cute. Instead, you murmur, low and soft against her ear:

“If you stop whining and be patient for, like, twenty more minutes… I’ll suck your dick until your legs stop working.”

She freezes.

The shift is immediate. Her whole body goes still, lips parted, eyes flicking to yours like she misheard—except she knows she didn’t. Her tongue runs over her bottom lip slowly, and that smug smirk starts to curl in place.

“Oh yeah?” she says, voice lower now. More dangerous.

You pretend to swatch another color like you didn’t just nuke her brain. “Mmhmm.”

Her fingers tighten around the shopping bags. She licks her lips again—pure instinct this time—and leans in behind you while you examine a new shelf of lip oils.

“You’d really suck me off for being good?” she murmurs, voice thick with heat.

You nod once, still casual. “If you make it to the car without complaining, I’ll get on my knees the second we’re alone.”

A pause. Then—

“Well, in that case…”

Suddenly she’s a model girlfriend. Holding your bags without a word. Opening doors. Asking if you want a bottle of water. She even compliments a random lipstick shade, completely out of nowhere.

You raise an eyebrow. “Since when do you care about lip color?”

She smirks. “Since you promised to gag on my cock.”

Your knees almost buckle.

She notices. Oh, she notices.

The car ride home is painfully quiet. Billie’s tapping her fingers against the wheel, shifting in her seat, glancing over at you every two seconds like she’s trying not to explode. Her joggers are sitting a little lower than before. You swear her thigh is flexing on purpose.

By the time you pull into the driveway, Billie throws the car in park and exhales like she’s been holding her breath since Sephora.

“I was good,” she says, eyes on fire. “I earned it.”

You swallow hard. “You did.”

She turns to you slowly, leaning back in her seat, her legs spread just slightly—enough to make your brain melt.

“Good,” she growls. “Now get in the backseat and show me.”

She barely waits for the door to shut behind you before she’s pushing the seat back, spreading her legs wide, and tugging her sweats down just far enough to free herself.

You glance up from the floor, heart pounding as your eyes land on her cock — hard, flushed, thick, already twitching. Your mouth waters.

“You said you’d show me,” Billie murmurs, cocky as ever but breath already hitching. “So do it.”

You smirk and crawl forward slowly, hands sliding along her thighs.

The second your tongue touches her tip, she groans — sharp and loud, head thunking back against the headrest.

“Oh fuuuck…”

You flatten your tongue and lick a long stripe up her shaft, slow and deliberate. Her hips buck, hands flying to your head immediately.

“Jesus—baby—fuck, that mouth…”

You take her in deeper, wrapping your lips around her and starting to bob, slow and steady. Billie lets out a strangled noise — somewhere between a growl and a moan — and her fingers tighten in your hair.

“I knew you’d be good, but I didn’t know you’d be like this,” she pants. “Holy shit, holy—fuck—slow down, I’m gonna—fuck.”

You don’t slow down.

You hum around her instead, eyes flicking up to see her completely unraveling — flushed, mouth open, jaw slack, hair falling into her face. She’s gasping your name now. Loud. Desperate.

“Fuck—baby, don’t stop, please don’t fucking stop—”

You swirl your tongue under the head and she screams. Literally. Hands slam into the seat, her thighs tensing around your head.

“I can’t—I can’t—holy shit, I’m gonna come—”

You pull back just enough to tease, stroking her with your hand as you speak:

“Already? Thought you were experienced, Billie.”

Her head snaps forward, eyes wild. “Don’t test me.”

You smirk and sink back down, taking her even deeper now — throat relaxing, tongue working, your hands gripping her hips to keep her still.

She can’t stay still.

Her legs are shaking. Her voice is echoing off the car windows.

“*Fuck, fuck, fuck—don’t stop—oh my god, baby—I’ve never—fuck, I’ve never had anyone—”

She’s full-on whining now. Loud, choked sobs of pleasure with every stroke of your mouth.

“You’re too good at this,” she gasps, voice breaking. “*What the fuck—where did you even—shit, I’m gonna fucking—”

She tries to warn you, tries to push you back, but you hold her down and take it — moaning around her, stroking her through it as she completely falls apart.

She comes hard, loud, shaking, cursing your name like it’s a prayer and a threat.

And you don’t stop until she’s whimpering.

Her hand slips from your hair, landing on the window with a breathy, spent thud.

“Holy shit,” she whispers. “You just… killed me.”

You rest your cheek on her thigh, licking your lips. “Worth being patient?”

She lets out a weak laugh. “I’d carry ten more shopping bags for that.”

You grin, kiss her thigh, and help her pull her pants back up while she’s still recovering. She’s flushed, twitchy, her cock softening slowly against her belly, and her voice hoarse from how loud she got.

“You good?” you ask, genuinely.

She nods, breathing steadying now. “Yeah. Just need like… three business days to recover.”

You giggle and crawl up beside her, nuzzling into her hoodie.

She wraps an arm around you, presses a kiss to the top of your head, and says — voice scratchy but full of awe:

“Best fucking head of my life. No contest.”

[prythianpages]

'Cause It Was Always You | Azriel x Reader

summary: After eavesdropping on multiple conversations, Azriel finally gathers the courage to confess his feelings to you, thinking he's on the verge of losing you.

word count: 1,741

warnings: I guess angst at the beginning? But I promise it ends with fluff!

a/n: Billie Eilish's Birds of a Feather has been on repeat in my head and it prompted this cute little idea. Also shoutout to @nocasdatsgay for helping me with a codename for Az.

“I fear I’ll love Lapis until the day that I die…until the light leaves my eyes…until I’m in the grave, rotting awa–”

“y/n, you’re drunk,” Feyre had giggled.

“Drunk in love,” you sang in response with a giggle of your own.

And when one of Azriel’s shadows reported the silly little smile on your face, the silly little sparkle in your eyes, he shrunk back into the ones that had remained. His heart sank to his stomach, a cold, heavy weight settling there. 

Because you were in love. 

With someone that wasn’t him.

Azriel told himself that was the last time he’d eavesdrop. And perhaps, that wouldn’t have been a lie, if it wasn’t for the pesky little shadow that followed you around. It enjoyed dancing and flitting around you. Sometimes, it’d make its presence known by weaving through your hair or slithering up your arm. Most times, it’d trail behind you, like a little duckling.

Azriel tried to call the shadow back home but it was unwavering, choosing to linger in your presence instead. The same way he wished to linger by your side. And recently, the inky traitor had gotten into the habit of summoning more of his shadows to your side, weaving an invisible bond between you and him.

Every time a shadow returned to him, it brought whispers of your laughter, the sparkle in your eyes, and the softness in your voice when you spoke of Lapis. Each word you uttered about that male tore him apart, every confession cutting deeper than any blade ever could.

“If you don’t ask Lapis out, Jasper will do it for you and believe me when I say you do not want that to happen.”

“Okay, okay! I’ll ask him out. Tomorrow.”

That was a snippet of a conversation his shadows had reported to him earlier, cutting his morning training short. It lingered with him, haunting him throughout the day. And now, he found himself unable to sleep, constantly turning in his bed.

Azriel’s stomach twists into a tight knot, the storm raging outside echoing his inner turmoil. Tomorrow. He was running out of time.  Fear and perhaps, even pride, kept him from telling you how he truly felt about you. But now, he found himself fearing something even worse. Losing you before he even had a chance to say it…

He didn’t want to wake up one day and regret his silence, regret not telling you how he felt because of pride or fear. He needed to do this for himself, to break free from the shadows of his past. He had failed to confess his love twice before, and the thought of a third failure was unbearable. This time, he couldn’t let fear hold him back. The risk of losing you to someone else was a pain he couldn't endure.

With a deep breath, Azriel steeled himself. He needed to find you, to tell you the truth about his feelings. Before anything between you and Lapis could blossom. He couldn’t let another moment pass without you knowing how deeply he loved you.

Which is how he found himself at your doorstep, in the middle of the night, clothes sticking to him like a second skin as the rain pours relentlessly down on him. His shadows stir in excitement, whispering anxiously as they hear your approaching footsteps. His heart is pounding, so fast and hard that he fears it’s going to explode.

“Azriel?” 

Your voice is still marred by sleep as you blink up at him. That traitorous shadow hovers behind you, peering at him over your shoulder. He glares at it, and it quickly hides behind your hair. You don’t seem to notice it, either unfazed or truly oblivious to the shadow that had been following you around for so long.

“Did something happen?” You speak again, brows furrowing in concern. You step back into your apartment, a silent gesture for him to follow after you and come inside. 

“I–” Azriel begins but he can’t bring himself to finish his sentence. He can’t even bring himself to move as his eyes catch the movement of your arms wrapping around yourself to ward off the chill of the downpour. The nightgown you’re wearing is thin and short. A  glimpse of your exposed skin has a warmth rushing to his face and he’s blushing.

"I—" He tries again but when his eyes meet yours, his heart leaps into his throat, choking off his words. Oh gods, he can’t do this. He’s grateful for the rain as it masks the tears beginning to sting at his eyes. He thinks he’s going to be sick and–

“Are you okay?”

His shadows push him forward, wings shuddering in response. It’s now or never. He can do this. He takes a deep breath, swallowing the lump in his throat.

“I love you.” 

The words spill out in a rush, raw and unguarded. He watches you with bated breath, his shadows whispering every nuance in your expression—from the way your eyebrows raise and your mouth parts as a gasp escapes, to the way your eyes glisten with something he’s too scared to discern.

You’re rendered speechless, the silence that follows feeling like an eternity. Azriel’s wings slump, growing heavy. He clears his throat, averting his gaze. The need to retreat is overpowering what little courage he had gathered moments ago. 

“That’s all I had to say. I should, um–I’ll be leaving now,” he stammers, so unsure and so unlike himself.

“Az–” you start, reaching out to him, but he’s already stepping back into the rain. He doesn’t think he can face your rejection, much less witness the look on your face if you don’t feel the same.

“Goodnight.”

His shadows are like a wall of resistance, fighting against him as he turns to make his leave. He asks them—begs them, even– to swallow him whole. To winnow him away and save him from further mortification. But they refuse. Stay, they insist, tugging and weighing his wings down. 

It leaves him with no choice but to walk away. Every step feels heavier than the last, the rain soaking him to the bone. Listen, his shadows urge as they continue to tug relentlessly at his wings for him to turn back around and face you. 

But he can’t. Not when the Mother has seemed to have cursed him with loving those who could never love him back.

“Azriel!”

His mind screams at him to keep going, to keep walking away. However, the plea echoed in your voice has his chest tightening. His heart overrides his mind, shadows only encouraging him further. He turns around just in time to catch you as you leap into his arms.

Your legs wrap around his waist, arms encircling his neck in a desperate effort to keep him from leaving. His own arms respond immediately, securing you to him. 

“Don’t go.”

Your breath is warm against his neck as you tighten your embrace, and his wings curl around your smaller form in response, wanting to shield you from the relentless rain. He feels you shift in his arms, pulling away just enough to look into his eyes. One hand reaches out, tenderly brushing the dark fringe from his forehead. His breath catches, and you must sense his inner turmoil because you gently smooth away the furrow of his brow with your thumb.

“I love you,” you say, your hand caressing his cheek. Despite the cold, harsh downpour, your touch is warm and soft. A balm to his frayed nerves.

His heart swells with a mixture of disbelief and overwhelming joy. He had prepared himself for rejection, for the familiar sting of unrequited love. But here you were, confessing your love to him with the same vulnerability he had shown you.

“Really?” he whispers, voice thick with emotion, eyes searching yours for any sign of hesitation.

“Really.”

“I thought I was going to lose you,” he murmurs, his voice trembling with relief. “I thought I’d never have the chance to tell you.”

“Lose me? Azriel, you’ve always had me.”

“But you said you loved Lapis? You were going to ask him out–”

“So you were spying on me!”

Azriel’s eyes widen, cheeks flushing all over again and he’s glad it’s dark enough to conceal it. “No–I–not intentionally…my shadows, they…,” he trails off, realizing how ridiculous he must sound.

Yes, his shadow refused to come back to him. But he didn’t stop the others from reporting back to him so with a defeated sigh, he says, “I’m sorry.”

“Azriel,” you giggle and he’s frowning at you, not finding the humor in the situation. “You are Lapis.”

“What?”

“You’re Lapis. Cas is Jasper and Rhys is Amethyst.” You explain, lips curling into an amused smile at the sigh of relief that comes from Azriel. How had he not realized that all those names shared one thing in common? And more importantly, that they were color coded to his and Cassian’s siphons?

“I needed a codename for you so I can gush about my feelings for you without, you know,” you tilt your head toward that nosey, barely visible shadow that had been following you around. Sensing the attention, the shadow dips and hides again, curling around the back of your neck. 

“I fear it’s yours now,” Azriel replies, almost sheepishly.

“Good,” you smile at him. “I’ve grown rather fond of it. Just as I have over its master.”

His shadows take your words as a welcome invitation, swirling and dancing around you both. Azriel’s arms hook underneath your thighs, pulling you even closer to him. Your arms find their place around his neck again.

Then, you're closing the small distance between you and kissing him. Warmth spreads throughout him, reveling in the sweet sensation of your lips against his. The rain continues to pour, but neither of you care. 

When you finally pull away, he leans his forehead against yours, his eyes remaining closed as if in fear that this is all just a dream. You gently kiss his nose, your soft voice reminding him that this moment is real.

“I love you.”

Azriel’s eyes open, looking right into yours. “Until the day that I die,” he tells you, echoing your devotion.

There’s a knowing spark in your eyes as they search his own for answers. It has his lips lifting into a smile that mirrors yours, confirming that he had been eavesdropping on your drunken confession weeks ago.  Your smile widens. 

 “Until the light leaves my eyes.”

This was a better idea in my head but hey, at least I finished it. I also don't know the logistics of having a conversation in the rain but that's the beauty of fanfic, I guess?lol Anyway, I could not get these lyrics out of my head. They were so Azriel coded for me:

I'll love you 'til the day that I die 'Til the day that I die 'Til the light leaves my eyes 'Til the day that I die I want you to see, hm How you look to me, hm You wouldn't believe if I told ya You would keep the compliments I throw ya

the way I keep fixing these lyrics but I think tumblr is glitching or something uggghh, pls ignore the random mismatched sizing

Also just wanted to point out that if Az hasn’t confessed, reader would’ve done it the next day anyway 💀

general tag list: @scooobies, @kennedy-brooke, @sillysillygoose444, @lilah-asteria @the-sweet-psycho

@daycourtofficial, @milswrites, @stormhearty, @pit-and-the-pen, @mybestfriendmademe