#SORRY this took a second... been busy

[sinelanguage]

ermmm 39 with usopp and zoro :0 ? perhaps some water7 with 45 if u so wish

Zoro doesn’t avoid things. 

Every problem he encounters he faces directly, even if it could send him to an early grave. It’s how problems should be tackled; promptly, efficiently, right in their face. Zoro will work at it until the problem breaks Zoro or Zoro breaks the problem. It’s always the latter in the end. He already told Luffy he’d never lose again, and he’s kept to his damn word. 

He’s not going to lose to anything, he’ll take on any fight he needs to. 

And he doesn’t avoid things. 

Hanging out in the Crow’s Nest isn’t avoiding anything. 

It’s the opposite of avoiding things, actually. He’s getting directly accustomed to the brand new ship that Franky made, with all its bells and whistles. It’s no Merry, nothing will ever be the Merry, but he has to admit the attention to detail impressives him. Franky built him the Crow’s Nest specifically, including his own weights and everything. It’s like the perfect ship for the crew, down to every last detail. 

It’s so detailed that it’s no surprise that the crew sticks to their own nooks and crannies of the ship instead of interacting with each other. It’s only natural. Everyone else is doing it; Chopper’s spent the last two days fawning over his new infirmary, the cook’s cooked up several feasts in his too-nice kitchen, and Robin’s spent considerably too long in the library reading who knows what.

Zoro cowering in the Crow’s Nest is normal. Franky made this place for him, just like he made the rest of the crew their own luxuries. He’d be stupid not to enjoy it. 

After his final set of one thousand with Franky’s brand new weights, Zoro sets them down and stares out at the horizon. The ocean’s calm, deceptively so, only a light breeze raising the Sunny’s sails. It’ll be another day or two before they find another adventure, and he hopes that the rest of the crew is enjoying the alcoves as much as Zoro is. 

He’s so caught up in looking for a threat on the horizon that he misses the creak of the door as it opens. 

“Hey, shithead,” says a familiar, grating voice. “Are you going to skip lunch for your workouts? That’s stupid, you know. If you don’t get protein, none of that even matters–”

“I don’t care,” Zoro interrupts. He doesn’t need the cook to lecture him. “I don’t need your shit food for my routine. I can handle this myself.”

“This is handling yourself, huh?”

Zoro sniffs, trying to ignore the enticing smell of freshly seared meat. “Uh-huh. Didn’t ask for delivery. I’m not going to give you a tip.”

“Like I’d want your shit tip,” Sanji answers, unceremoniously dropping a plate of what smells like the most enticing seared fish Zoro’s ever smelt in his entire life. “Anyway, I don’t care. I had extra fish, I figured I’d give it to the closest garbage disposal on board.”

The fish does smell good. “Fine,” Zoro says. “I’ll eat your shit food. Now fuck off.”

Sanji closes the door behind him, the lock clicking shut. “No,” he says. “I don’t feel like it. I want a smoke, and the view’s nice from up here. Now eat up before it gets cold.”

He doesn’t want to listen to the cook’s orders, but, well. The fish does smell good, and he’s not going to resist that smell forever. He needs the protein, or whatever. 

Shoving a handful of food into his mouth, he ignores the cook’s annoyed scoff at talks at him with his mouth open. “So, what? You doing delivery service now? Should’ve brought me onigiri instead of fish if you knew what you were doing.”

“I only gave this to you because I had extra,” Sanji says. “Usopp caught a shitload of fish, more than we could even store in the brand new aquarium.”

Oh, right. That makes sense; the Sunny’s equipped for everyone, including Usopp. 

Zoro frowns, chewing slowly. He didn’t want to think about Usopp.

“Really, it’s impressive how much fish he caught while you were up here napping,” Sanji continues. Zoro clearly wasn’t napping, but whatever. “Enough to fill up the aquarium and Luffy’s stomach. Impressive feat, really.”

It is, but he doesn’t want to comment on it. 

“I should tell him you snarfed up his damn fish, he’d love that,” the cook continues. He pauses, blowing out a puff of smoke that covers his face. “He thinks you’ve been avoiding him.”

And there it is. This is why the cook’s really here, to interrogate him. It’s not like he expected anything other than an ulterior motive from him, but he didn’t think it’d be about Usopp. 

“I’m not avoiding him,” Zoro says. “I just haven’t…”

He’s just purposefully not running into Usopp. 

It’s not that he’s scared of Usopp. Usopp’s not a threat, nor is he a loose cannon. Not anymore, that is. They both know where they stand; Zoro’s made his point, and Usopp’s passed his test. They’re all fine, in theory. It’s just… 

It’s just delicate. 

Delicate is something that Zoro doesn’t know how to handle without breaking. Luffy rightfully welcomed him back on the crew after he apologized, and he seemed to be completely dedicated to the crew with his own damn baggage sorted, but it doesn’t mean Usopp wants anything to do with him. 

Zoro trusts him on the crew, but there’s an underlying question Zoro doesn’t have the answer to. 

Does Usopp trust him?

The answer doesn’t really matter. He’s part of the crew, but that doesn’t mean Usopp has to like him specifically. 

“I’m not avoiding him,” Zoro says. “He hasn’t talked to me, either.”

Sanji scoffs. 

“If the idiot wanted to talk to me, he would,” Zoro continues. “But he doesn’t. So it’s fine. He’ll just catch you one thousand fish or whatever the hell it is he does.”

Sanji taps his fingers on his thigh, clearly not impressed. Zoro wants to wipe the expression off his face, but infuriatingly, Sanji doesn’t give him the damn chance. 

“Whatever it is he does, huh?”

Like Zoro knows what that’s supposed to imply. 

“Yeah, whatever it is that he does,” he says. 

There’s one more critical look, full of context Sanji understands but Zoro doesn’t. It’s infuriating, and it reminds him of Sanji’s own reaction to Luffy and Usopp’s fight back at Water 7. He picked up on shit that Zoro missed, but he wouldn’t explain himself, not even now. 

“Maybe you’d know whatever it is he does if you spent some time on the deck instead of hunkering down up here,” Sanji says. “I took you for a lot of things, but I never took you for a damn coward.”

Zoro stiffens, shoving another fish into his mouth. “I’m not a damn coward,” he says with food still in his mouth, just to annoy the cook. “What the hell is your problem, anyway? Come here to give me delivery, or did you come here to give me a lecture?”

“Neither,” Sanij corrects, dusting off his pants. “I came here to deal with my leftover problem.”

He picks up the last fish from the plate, and unceremoniously shoves it in Zoro’s mouth. 

“Mfm,” Zoro protests, trying to chew on an entire fish. 

“Uh-huh. Great, good to know you’ll talk to Usopp sometime this century,” Sanij says. He picks up his plate, shoves it under his arm, and turns around to the Crow’s Nest’s exit. “I expect you to figure it out by the next island, moron.”

“Mfmf,” Zoro says between bites of fish. 

Sanji scoffs. 

Zoro swallows his fish whole. “Nothing to figure out,” he says, but by the time the words are out, Sanji’s gone. 

With a frustrated groan, Zoro knocks his head into the glass of the Crow’s Nest. He’s not avoiding anything; Usopp’s avoiding him. Things are fine, they’ll continue to be fine, and all Zoro needs to worry about is getting stronger and training like always. It doesn’t matter if that crew particularly likes him. Not really. That’s totally tangential to his problem. 

Scrubbing at his mouth, Zoro stares off at the horizon. He’s sure he can get another set in, and another after the sun sets. By that time, Usopp may be asleep already. 

He’s not avoiding anything. He’s not. He’s just being practical.  And if his sets last long into the night, until he’s sure Usopp’s asleep, well. That’s just a fucking coincidence, that’s all.

[ennard-is-near]

As promised, my thoughts on The Week Before!

(Spoiler free first, spoilers under the cut. Also long post warning)

It was objectively not a good book. Most fun I’ve ever had reading anything, though.

I’m going to start calling him “Ralph Scott” as his full name. At first I hated the name Ralph but it actually grew on me over time. I think Scott is a valid last name and he doesn’t have one in canon so it’s Scott now. I might just call him Phone Guy sometimes though.

If I had to pick one FNaF song to represent this book it would be Stay Calm, absolutely no question. Do with this what you will.

I really enjoy his relationship with the restaurant and animatronics. It’s pretty realistic imo, he always seemed like he was pretty fond of the brand and had loved it and worked there for a long time.

Coppelia is so y/n coded I don’t know how else to explain this. She feels like a self-insert or fan child. Like the way they describe her outfit reminded me of good ol’ Wattpad fic. This is not good or bad, simply a statement. I actually liked her.

Game continuity stuff:

At first it sort of struck me as odd that Ralph says this is his “first week on the night shift” because in FNaF 2 he mentions that he is going to take the shift after Jeremy. But then he mentions that the restaurant closed down after the Bite of ‘87 so it actually sort of makes sense. It took me a minute to figure that out, though.

As I mentioned before, they are mean to Jeremy? This is genuinely hilarious to me. Like at one point Phone Guy mentioned that staff kept saying “You can’t spell team without meat” right after the Bite and his takeaway is just “that’s not very nice but at least they paid attention at orientation.” The first time he brings it up he asks what Jeremy did to provoke the animatronic (my friend said “what was he wearing?” And I think that’s hilarious). He says that the press blew the whole thing way out of proportion but he says that following “he doesn’t talk anymore. Or do much else” so idk man. Ralph just seems more annoyed than anything, like he’s mad it got the restaurant closed down. He does sort of care a little bit, I guess. It depends on what sentence you’re reading.

(My friend also said that it’s sort of the thing you have to joke about, like if that happened at your work you’d have to be an idiot about it [especially bc it was probably over 5 years ago] and while I completely agree, I feel like he’s mean to Jeremy personally a couple times and that’s not very nice. He was just doing his job, man. This is so funny to me genuinely. I will never stop thinking about it)

There were a couple Bite of ‘83 mentions, which I was not expecting, but was very exciting to me. Ralph going up on stage and thinking about why people aren’t allowed up there…he called 1983 on the phone and it was just screaming and Bite of ‘83 audio (and it was different from the games?) which was wild.

I loved that he said they used to call the Bite of ‘83 “The Big Bite” until ‘87 happened. And he likens it to how they used to call WW1 “The Great War” until WW2. Incredible comparison.

Something that I don’t remember Ralph bringing up directly is the MCI. There’s obviously references to it, but I don’t recall him ever going “wow remember when those kids went missing?” Like he does with The Bites. Not a huge deal but definitely a small thing I noticed.

It’s me. It’s me. It’s me. It’s me. It’s me. The way they wrote the it’s me thing actually sent me to hell and back. Some interesting implications as to what that could mean if it’s happening to Ralph too. I think the way it was described the “it’s me” echo like, taking up his whole mind and actually hurting is so fascinating to me. It’s me. It’s me. It’s me.

He refers to himself as “Phone Guy” at one point, or at least says that that’s what other employees call him because he records the training tapes and welcome messages. I actually liked that, it was late at night when I read it but my sleep deprived brain thought it was a cool nod to the fandom.

He also records the messages for Michael (/the next employee) in the books, which is so fun. They used the word-for-word transcript from the games which I also thought was really cool. I’ve always been a fan of those opening phone calls, his FNaF 1 stuff makes you really get attached to the guy and then he fucking dies which is always deviating. Putting them in exactly like the games was a good call.

Also also his night four message recording was really well written actually. It might have been my favorite part of the whole book. Him talking to Coppelia in a non-canon death was really sweet too

They mentioned Susie being Chica and Jeremy being Bonnie by name. I like this. Ralph saying Susie just by vibes was fine, but I kinda want to know how Bronwen knew that Jeremy is Bonnie? Like I know she’s done a lot of research but how does she know which specific kid is which specific animatronic? That seems like a hard thing to figure out, even if you know everything about the case. Eh, whatever.

They kept just… listing the animatronics? Like the book will go “Look out for Freddy, Bonnie, Chica and Foxy.” Over and over again. Like yeah, I got it.

Phone Guy

They made him a boy failure. And a lame dad. Absolutely perfect. He says the same stupid fucking joke every time even though nobody’s around. He practices making stupid jokes and puns so he can tell them to his daughter later.

He loves his daughter so much, also. Like all he thinks about her all the time and he checks on her immediately when he gets home. He wants work at her school? He keeps telling her never ever to go to Freddy’s. In the non-canon death where he calls her and he says, “I love you. Don’t come looking for me.” Aughhggg.

A couple of his deaths were genuinely so funny. The one where he’s just mixing shit in the closet and the door gets jammed? That wasn’t even an animatronic that’s just basic workplace safety. The one where he’s being killed (by Chica I think?) and his blood is going all over the floor and he goes “I just cleaned that!” Hey man, there are more important things happening. The one where he puts the cupcake up to his face and it like…eats him? Why did he do that?

There are also a couple non-death endings that are great. The one where he just accidentally gets locked in a room is pretty good. He can get sued by Fazbear which is really funny. Coppelia can get eaten by The Cupcake which is iconic.

Foxy is his favorite. We find this out when he’s being killed by Foxy and he goes “But you were my favorite!” Foxy is also Michael’s favorite. Also nobody asked but he would have been mine if I was a kid at Freddy’s.

I like when he walks in to a room covered in blood and goes “It must have been an animal!” You and I both know it wasn’t, why did he say that? Also he throws about the blood.

Other characters

Coppelia is so good. She’s so middle-schooler and I mean that in a good way. She’s well written in a “that’s what twelve-year-olds are like” way. During the ending where he calls her and says he loves her and she goes “I know, Dad” like she’s rolling her eyes. Okay go off Coppelia. But also she clearly loves her dad she’s just a preteen. I don’t like that Phone Guy calls her Pel, though. That’s stupid.

I don’t like Bronwen. She’s underdeveloped and as she stands in the book just completely unnecessary. She’s a cool character in theory, a reporter who’s obsessed with the mystery at Freddy’s, but she probably couldn’t work in a book like this. I feel like her only purpose was to give Ralph a quest, phone and dead body to find. He probably could have gotten those things on his own, and it actually would have been better for his character I think. She feels like a self-insert character from someone who won a “get your own character featured in a book” contest. She’s not hugely important or prevalent in the plot, to the point where she could be cut and it would probably make the story better. But as her own character, in a book where she was a main or very prominent side character, she could be very interesting. She’s just not here.

WILLIAM AFTON?? Okay, well, maybe. Probably. He’s only in there a couple times, as “Dave” the maintenance guy who knows everything about the animatronics and is annoyed that you called him at 4am. Definitely William Afton, which is very cool and interesting that he’s still around and slaying at the time of FNaF 1. Idk if I’m going to include that in my personal brain timeline but whatever, still good info to have.

Williams presence does raise a question that has always bugged me, how do people not recognize him? Like I get that maybe it’s like Clark Kent where you’re not looking for William Afton so you won’t recognize him, but I feel like this is a little different. Because Dave Miller isn’t some unassuming maintenance worker while William Afton is some huge famous, supervillain or something. Dave Miller is a guy who knows everything about the animatronics and William Afton is the guy who made the animatronics. And they look the same? He’s not even bothering with glasses or anything. And Phone Guy has to have seen William a few times because he’s implied to be higher up (at least a manager or something) at the company in 1987 so he has to have seen William a few times. And Ralph’s gone bowling with “Dave” before, so why was he never like “Huh I wonder if this is William Afton considering they look the same and have the same job and nobody has seen Afton in a long time.” He’s so Sweeney Todd core.

There’s a brief mention of a character named Mrs. Anderson who has a dead daughter, and to me that daughter is Susie. (Not Cassidy bc I have a different family for Cassidy that I can’t get into rn but trust me.) But that’s so sad actually, that she is basically Coppelia’s babysitter bc she misses her own daughter. I feel like something that FNaF could benefit from is more little character insights like this. Just getting a brief “Mrs. Anderson” and seeing how she’s handling her kid dying. This could not be Susie’s mom, and I’m just seeing connections where there aren’t any, but I think she probably is meant to be.

Okay I’m done

I really liked this book guys. It was worth sneaking a copy of into my house. I had so much fun with it, even if I just read it back-to-front like a normal book instead of “playing” it. (Idk why they kept pretending it was a video game, it’s clearly a book, but whatever.) there were a few very fun details that I really loved and it was a good addition to the canon of the series. I won’t incorporate everything into the lore I made up in my head, but I will definitely take some of it. I really enjoyed it, I really did.

[lorephobic]

(same anon) IVE NEVER SEEN THAT honestly if i was barrys gf i would just be like fine its jacob elordi LMFAO oh my god thats so cute 😭😭 i also saw a selfie barry took with jacob and jacob is like. crouching so hed be in frame... it made me sob.. uncle jacob... what if i died

no fr their friendship is so real & true 💛💛💛💛

just for u anon ive curated my favorite obscure jarry pics that i havent seen on tumblr yet <3

starting off w my absolute faves and putting the rest below the cut

ok the premiere ones arent that obscure but shhhh i hadnt seen these exact angles yet

[acdc-elektra]

"Okay, I have you, I have you-" -- @k1llerw4tt (From the prompt list, take it however you want!)

[They had stumbled foward, their legs seeming to have just given out]

I… I knew I still hadn’t entirely recovered from the crash… but this is just…

[the--highlanders]

His head bowed almost automatically, as if he was in mourning. Maybe he was. Mourning the smoking ruins of their friendship, everything they’d had, the best thing in his life. Would the Doctor even want to travel with him anymore, now he knew how Jamie felt? “I meant it,” he mumbled. “I – aye, I – I meant it. I thought I wasnae going tae have another chance.” When he dared to glance up, just for a moment, he found the Doctor staring at him, lower lip captured between his teeth like he was trying to feel the ghost of the kiss. Or to chase it away. Jamie had tried both, last night, lying in his bunk and staring up at the stippled metal ceiling. “Jamie, ah -” Even with his head bowed, Jamie could see the Doctor’s fingers moving, twisting over each other restlessly. “I’m not human. You do know that, don’t you?”

Believing they're about to die, Jamie kisses the Doctor. The next morning, they face the consequences.

[ssreeder]

HEYYYY

it’s been so long since i’ve said hello and IM SO SORRY I SUCK AT TALKING TO PEOPLE

but i thought it be cool to tell you that i’m finally rereading liab!! i’ve been wanting to do it for a while now since it’s been two years and it be nice to get a little refresher on everything lol

IM SURPRISED HOW MUCH I REMEBERED!! like i’m imagining it basically the same as i did two years ago cause ur so good at explaining settings and stuff

ALSO I FORGOT HOW MEAN YOU WERE TO THE BOYS!!! LIKE I KNEW WHAT HAPPENED BUT IVE BEEN SO USED TO THEM BEING SAFE WITH THE LATEST CHAPTERS

i’m almost to the forest lesbians so i’m happy :)) i missed them a lot

just wanted to say hi and thought it be cool to let u know <33

OMGGGG HIIII!!! (don’t worry I also suck at talking to people I’m the worssssstttttt)

YOURE DOING A REREAD?!?! how fun!! I’m so excited!! Im glad you’re remembering stuff because PHEW if I didn’t have a massive cheat sheet I’m sure I’d forget stuff haha!

I was SUPER cruel to the boys for a LONG time, but at least they get some fun now and things are finally looking up for them haha it only took idk…. A MILLION words haha

thanks for sending me this ask I always love when people say they’re re reading haha <3

[cowbutchranch]

6, 10, & 16! 🥰

6. Favorite band: UM. I don’t listen to very many bands actually. my first thought was The Band Camino, even though I hardly know their music but I do really like what I know, and I have seen them in concert.

10. Biggest turn ons: oh god uh. so many things? literally just someone who can be flirty and good at teasing. i’m a simple guy, a pretty girl gives me a attention, and it’s pretty easy from there 😌 also the standard things like confidence, someone who can approach me instead of expecting me to do it, but also someone who gets shy and flustered by me in return. tell me what kind of effect I have on you. it drives me absolutely wild when people say I make them feel things they normally don’t feel

16. Favorite movie: again- bad with favorites 😅 uhhh one of my fairly recent favorites was Anyone But You. (also Wicked)

Get in my business!

[sunnibits]

*Kicks door down*

Sunni I am currently hyperfixating on the Rogue Player from HoB and I am going INSANE.

Also can a ramble about them please? I kind of want to get permission for me to drop several random trivia about this one character in an EXTREMELY obscure game because my stars, I feel bad for Rogue Player.

Also I am currently writing a HoB fanfiction where it's literally the entire plot of the game but in novel form. Please help me /hj

Dear friend, you can ALWAYS infodump in my inbox. What else are neurodivergent friends for?? 😌

[akai-anna]

i've been meaning to say for some time now (and now that i had a hard time remembering the word "sober" in english thanks to consuming a certain amount of alcoholic beverages actually doing it) but for everyone who i expecting a reply from me:

i'm sorry it's taking so long, my life's got hijacked by responsibilities and general family matters, which leave me with like 1 free hour (or less) in a day, so.

thank you for your patience, please wait for me a little more *wide puppy eyes look*

[bookwyrminspiration]

context: the author of the acacia seeds by ursula le guin (first 2 pages)

note: i am aware that is not actually what the story is about or what's happening, it was a comment made in jest among other, more serious analysis :)

this ant's got penis envy <- a real sentence I just said out loud to other people

[julymusings]

simplicity

out there they're afraid even of the killer's shadow, and here i reside in his heartbeat like a home

or; the big bad red hood has a soft spot only for you [3.4k]

jason todd x fem!reader; tiny bit of angst but mostly fluff; aggressive unwanted advances, implied roofie attempt, violence & blood, slut-shaming; Jason “my girl can wear whatever she wants I can fight” Todd; in da clerb, we all fam ⎯ based on this !

series masterlist

A humid, crowded, upscale club isn’t the most ideal way to spend your Friday night, and Jason knows this. Frankly, it’s not his either, but as the owner of the humid, crowded, upscale club, he had to make some appearances at his own business.

“It’s a night out,” he had said. “Let’s make the most of it.”

If you’re being honest, it’s also not the worst way to spend your Friday night. Not when Jason dressed up so deliciously, in a fitted t-shirt, jeans, and his leather jacket. Not when he took you to a booth in the corner of the club and had them bring over your favorite drinks and snacks with the order to keep them coming. Not when you got to wear that cute little black dress that’s been hanging in your closet for months with your favorite strappy heels, the ones with ribbons that wrapped around your ankle and tied into a bow in the back. Not when Jason sat you on his lap and settled a large hand on your thigh, where it stayed the whole night.

All in all, you would say you’re making the most of it. 

You’re sipping on your drink, chatting about something or the other with your boyfriend. He’s half listening, half drawing circles on your thigh and pressing kisses to your shoulder when one of the employees finds you. She’s freaking out because one of the performers hasn’t shown up, and there’s no one else to go in her place.

Jason huffs. He lifts you off his lap and sets you down on the seat. “I’m sorry, baby, I just gotta take care of this. I’ll be right back.”

“It’s okay. I’ll be here.” You smile over the rim of your glass.

He looks around for a moment, then gestures to someone across the room. One of the bouncers make their way to you.

“Just keep an eye out,” he tells him. “I don’t trust these entitled country club fuckers.”

He gives a curt nod. Jason leans in close, smirking, and says, “Especially not when you look like that,” and gives you a quick kiss before disappearing into the crowd with the employee.

A couple minutes later, a crash snaps your attention towards the bar. A young, college-aged-looking man is berating a waitress while a mess of shot glasses litter the floor around them. The waitress looks about to cry.

“Jesus Christ,” the bouncer says to himself. Then to you, “Gimme a second.”

You move to the edge of the booth to watch as he goes over and tries to pacify the man, but that only seems to make him angrier. He shoves the bouncer, yelling about “shitty customer service.” 

You don’t get to see what happens next, though, because your field of vision is obscured by an enormous, very shiny, and very douchey silver belt buckle. You look up for its owner, and a greasy-looking, white-haired man looks down at you. 

“Hey there, sweetheart.” A fake gold tooth catches the flashing lights and it glints in your eye. Uninvited, he slides into the booth across from you. He places a drink on the table, sliding it towards you. “You look thirsty. Got this for you.”

“No, thanks. I’ve got one.” You hold your own glass up.

He rolls his eyes. “Pretty thing like you should be takin’ advantage of all the free drinks you could be gettin’.” His smile sends a chill down your spine.

“Again, I’m fine,” you say, a little harsher. “My boyfriend has brought me plenty of drinks already.”

He laughs. It’s a high-pitched, scratchy, wheezing sound. Like a kazoo. “I don’t see this boyfriend of yours anywhere. He should know better than to leave you alone. I’d treat you much better than him.” His eyes travel down your neck and stay there. You stand from the booth and take a big step back. It’s not entirely personal; no matter how much of a threat he may be, Jason is a worse one. And if he’s still in this neighborhood, never mind this building, you fear for this man’s safety much more than your own. But the man follows, bringing the cup with him. “Come on, honey, it’s a compliment. Show a little thanks. I don’t bite.”

You don’t have to be the world’s finest detective to know that is most definitely a lie. Or to know to avoid that cup at all costs.

You could just rebuff him, walk away. But you’re willing to bet he’d just move on to the next woman. One who’s probably a little less sober, and a little less aware of her surroundings. You feign a stumble and knock the drink out of his grip. It tips toward him, drenching him with its contents. He chokes out a shocked gasp.

“Oops,” you deadpan, not at all trying to hide your indifference.

“You bitch,” he snarls. He lunges forward, snatching your wrist. You try to pull it back, but his grip is iron and bruising. “I was doing you a favor. Do you see anyone else here looking at you?”

You’re suddenly grateful you didn’t put up much of a fight after Jason came home from patrolling one night insisting he show you some self-defense moves. Far be it from you to cause a scene, but this guy isn’t giving you much choice. You employ the cardinal rule of women’s self-defense: go for the crotch. You shift your weight to your non-dominant side and launch your dominant knee right into his groin. The sharp metal edge of his belt buckle slices the skin just above your knee, but it shocks him enough to release your wrist and double over. The same leg used in your attack plants itself on the ground, and you use the momentum to pistol your opposite fist forward. It collides with his nose in a bone-cracking cross. Your stacks of studded rings didn’t do him any favors, either. He cries out in pain. His hands fly up to cover his nose, and the cup falls from his grasp and shatters on the floor, garnering the attention of some surrounding patrons. Blood seeps between his fingers.

“You’re gonna fucking pay for that.” His tone drips with poison. He reaches into his coat pocket and brandishes a switchblade (because of course. You’re not surprised, though. It is Gotham). You look around in a panic, hoping to find Jason towering somewhere over the crowd. He’s not there. A few guys who work for him, though, have since taken notice of the commotion and are making their way towards you. You know they won’t make it in time. You weren’t scared a moment ago, but you definitely are now. Jason only briefly covered disarming techniques, and you didn’t have his practice to stay calm in situations like these. He steps closer, shoes crunching over the glass shards, and you step back. You’re backed into a corner, literally. Your back is pressed against the table. His eyes are glassy and void of color.

There is a resounding pop when the man’s knife-wielding hand is yanked to the side. Too fast for your brain to register, he thuds against the table next to you and the knife clatters to the ground. You look over and see Jason, one hand pressing his face into the table and the other twisting the man’s arm behind his back. 

When his men finally reach you, Jason is seething. They look almost as afraid as the man, whose whimpers are muffled by the pressure with which he’s flattened against the table.

“Who the fuck let this happen,” Jason glowers. Uncomfortable glances are shared between the men, all sharing the same sentiment; we fucked up big time.

Jason’s livid gaze flits back and forth among them. His veins flex against his forearms, rippling with effort. It looks like he’s putting all his strength into incapacitating the man, but you know better. He’s putting all his strength into restraint. The look on his face is cold and steely, with hardened, venom-green eyes and a clenched jaw. This isn’t Jason, the sweet boyfriend, or Jason the easy-going yet respected club proprietor. This is Jason the crime lord. Jason the anti-hero. This is the Red Hood. Who makes his own rules and kills anyone who breaks them. It’s a bit off-putting for you to see him like this; he’s never like this with you. He’s always just…Jason. Your Jason.

One of his men speaks up. “We’re sorry, Boss, we were keepin’ an eye like you asked, but there was trouble up at the bar.”

Jason scowls. “Trouble that required all of you?”

At their silence, he rolls his eyes. “Idiots,” he says under his breath. He jerks the man up to stand, the hand that was pressing him to the table now gripping the back of his shirt collar. “Someone take care of this.” He shoves the man in their direction. Hard. One of them catches him. “And for fuck’s sake, check him for anything else.” 

While they’re busy patting him down, Jason turns back to you. You get whiplash from how quick his demeanor changes. Though still tense, the rigidity of his expression is long gone, replaced with tender concern.

“Are you okay?” His wide eyes scan you up and down, searching for any signs of injury. You manage a nod, still a bit stunned by his apparent shape-shifting abilities. “I’m so sorry, honey, this is my fault. It’s my fault for leaving you alone.” He pulls you close for a hug and kisses the top of your head, murmuring further apologies into your hair.

You pull back and cup his face in your hands. “It’s okay, Jay, I’m fine. I promise.” You lean in to kiss him and feel his shoulders relax.

“Jesus, man, sorry! Wouldn’t’a come on so strong if I knew she was your whore. How much did ‘ya pay for her, anyway?” His voice rings from behind. Jason tenses up again. When he pulls back from you, he’s gone. He’s like Jekyll-turned-Hyde when the combatant that lay dormant inside him reassumes his body.

He turns around, but his large frame shields you from seeing the scene unfold. You place a hand on his arm, a silent message of support, and you can feel him vibrating with anger. His hand comes to rest over yours and gives a reassuring squeeze.

“You know what?” You can’t be sure who he’s speaking to, but you can hear the eerie smile in his tone. “I’ll take care of this.” He faces you. “Can you give me a minute? Is that okay?” His voice is calm.

You know he would stay if you asked him to. And you never would, but you know he would go outside and kill that guy if you asked him to. And maybe you’re feeling a tad vindictive after the whole ordeal, so you just say, “Okay.”

He kisses your forehead, squeezing your hand once more. “I’ll come find you,” he says, stepping away, and you nod.

“Ross,” he commands. “Take her to the office. Get her whatever she wants.” Jason then speaks to all of his men. His tone drips with disdain. “Tomorrow we’ll talk about who’s getting fired for this.” You catch some of his men flinch.

He grabs the man by the collar once again and stalks towards the exit, dragging him along.

You’ve met Ross once or twice, though never exchanged more than a few words. He smiles at you. It’s amiable, if not slightly nervous. You know where the office is, but you’re still grateful for the guide. The mesh of moving bodies under dim lights makes all four corners of the room look the same. With the adrenaline wearing off, your hands ache and you become acutely aware of the stinging shock that shoots up your knee when you walk on it but, persevering, you follow him to the back. He holds the door that reads ‘RESTRICTED - DO NOT ENTER’ open for you, and you smile in thanks.

Various employees, servers and performers alike, mill about in the back hallways. You know some of them, having met in passing during other visits to the club, and offer polite greetings as you walk by. When you arrive at Jason’s office, Ross unlocks the door for you and you step inside.

It’s a nice office, noticeably homier than it was when you and Jason met. The first time he brought you back here it was just a desk, a chair, and a filing cabinet. You perched yourself on his desk while he sat in his chair and you teased him for not having a place for guests to sit, saying something about ‘men and their awful interior designing skills.’

“It’s not ‘bad skills,’ it’s cost-effective. ‘M runnin’ a business here, baby. If you need a place to sit that badly, you can sit right here.” He joked, patting his lap. And he said it with such conviction you believed him, but the next time you visited there was a brand new, plushy suede couch pushed against the wall.

You find a seat on said couch and try to get comfortable despite your protesting joints. From here you can spot a framed photo on Jason’s desk; the two of you smiling while bathing a shelter dog at the Wayne Animal Sanctuary. But while you smile at the camera, his gaze is trained on you.

 Ross stands in the doorway, stoic as a bodyguard should be. “Do you need anything?” He asks you.

“No, I’m okay. Thank you, though.”

“‘Course. I’ll be outside. Just yell if you need anything.” He moves to exit, but pauses. “Look,” he says, “We’re all really sorry about what happened. It was our fault. You have every right to hate us.” He chuckles self-deprecatingly. “God knows the boss does.”

You purse your lips, unsure how to respond. Technically Jason did instruct them not to leave you alone. But really, the only person at fault is that horrible man, and he was currently getting what he deserved.

“It’s okay, Ross,” you say, and you mean it. “I don’t blame you. And Jason’s not gonna fire any of you, okay? I won’t let him.”

He exhales. “Okay, you—yeah. Okay. Thanks.” He loiters awkwardly in the doorway for a moment. “Listen, Todd’s always been a great boss. But it’s no joke when it comes to you. Don’t know exactly what happened, but after meeting you, he’s just…different. Not sure if I believe it, but after the first time you were here, one of the bartenders swears they heard him whistling. Anyway, just mean to say…we’re glad he has you.”

His sincerity warms your heart. You thank him, and he assumes his post outside, closing the door. 

At last in decent lighting, you take the time to examine yourself. Your knee, knuckles, and wrist are splotchy with bruises. A small scrape rests just above your knee from you were scratched. There’s a splattering of blood on your knuckles and on the rings you’re wearing. You grimace, the reality of what just happened settling in. Someone pulled a knife on you. If Jason hadn’t been there…the thought leaves you cold.

There are voices on the other side of the door, then receding footsteps. After a few seconds, a knock.

“Baby? Can I come in?”

“Yes,” you call out. Jason enters, locking the door behind him. There are some smatterings of blood on his hands and face, and he’s holding a first aid kit. Your immediate instinct is that he’s the one who needs first aid.

“Are you okay?” You ask as he kneels on the floor in front of you. “Did he hurt you?”

Jason tilts his head like a confused puppy, eyebrow raised. Just like that, The Red Hood is gone. He’s Jason again. He speaks softly, with a hint of his usual boyish charm. “Should I be insulted by you asking me that?” He picks up your un-injured leg and places the foot on his thigh, beginning to unravel the ribbon wrapped around your ankle. He removes the shoe and places it to the side, then repeats with your other foot. But when he moves it, your knee twitches and you wince. He frowns but doesn’t say anything. He sees the way your eyes travel between all the spots of blood. “Don’t worry, sweetheart, none of it’s mine.”

You sigh in relief. “You didn’t…kill him, did you?”

He chuckles, lightly massaging your foot. “Nah…did you want me to? ‘Cause I can still—”

“No.”

He smirks at you, before leaning down to press a kiss to your bruised knee. It’s so gentle, so loving, it completely contradicts the bloodstains that adorn him. As his hands move up to your calf, your hand moves to his hair, fingers threading through the white streaks and pushing them back so you can get a better view of his eyes. They’re a silky teal, bordering on sea green. They remind you of lake trips in the summer, and ice skating during the holidays.

“How bad is he? Like, on a scale of ‘he can walk it off’ to ‘he needs to go to the hospital.’”

Jason pauses his movements, looking thoughtful for a moment.

“He…he’s walking himself to the hospital.”

There’s not much you can say to that. After all, you gave him to okay to go fuck that guy up.

From the first aid kit, he retrieves a box of Band-Aids. They’re the children’s ones, decorated with cartoons and various characters. A specific one catches your eye, and you pick it out of the carton.

“Robin? Really?”

Jason breathes out a small laugh. “One of my guys’ daughter loves him.” He unwraps the bandage and sticks it over the scratch. You admire the small red plaster. Jason traces a finger over the emblem in the center, a black and yellow ‘R’.

He moves from your leg to your hand, gingerly laying it in his palm. One by one he slides each of your rings off. They’re not particularly special, but you still like them and you try to protest when he tosses them in the trash. He’s quick to assuage you with promises to buy you new ones with, hopefully, less blood.

"Did you see how good I got him?" You suddenly feel shy asking such a question. Like a child seeking validation.

"I did see," Jason says. And there's not a hint of condescension in his tone. "I'm proud of you. You remembered what I taught you."

You beam under his pride.

He uses a sanitizing wipe to remove the droplets of blood from your knuckles, kissing each one along the way. He reaches your wrist last. There’s a purple hand-shaped mark that wraps around it, and he stares at it. You can see his thoughts race at sixty miles an hour, and you know he’s beating himself up about it.

“Hey.” The hand in his hair moves to stroke his cheek. “It’s okay. It’s not your fault. I promise. I love you.”

He leans forward to press his forehead to your wrist. “I’m sorry,” he breathes. “I’m sorry.” He places gentle kisses on the purple skin. “I’m sorry. I love you.” He moves to the scratch above your knee, pressing more kisses, repeating the words like a prayer. Your hand is still enclosed in his hands, and his cool fingers soothe the throbbing swell. You pull his head up, holding his chin in your fingertips. His eyes close as he soaks in your warm touch.

You reach for another wipe and begin wiping the blood from his face. Some of it has dried, so you press the wipe a little harder, and blood rushes to his cheeks to give him an adorable flush. You repeat the process on his hands. Blood erased and wipes discarded, you pull him up to the couch to lie down with you. He stretches out, so large that his feet hang over the armrest. You snuggle up to his side and your head rests on his shoulder. He wraps his arms around you and kisses the top of your head. It’s surreal, how utterly soft he is, and just for you. How no one else gets to see him like this. He goes out at night as a fighter, a crusader, a deadly threat. And then he comes home to sleep in your arms. In your bed.

You place your hand against his chest, right over his heart to feel it thrum beneath your palm. It beats simple and steady, and just for you.

am i the only one who likes the whole jason owning the iceberg lounge storyline (aside from the whole penguin prisoner thing but i only write according to canon that i like and leave out the things i don't! whoops🤷‍♀️);

the feminine urge to write more fics that take place within the universe of this one...

divider is from here

[lemontongues]

one thing about me as a batman fan is that im not 100% convinced his penis works very good. im completely fine with fanfic where hes horny as hell and fucks like a machine and all that but in my heart of hearts im like. this man has erectile dysfunction.

like first of all theres the psychological aspect, in the sense that that man is stressed the hell out and traumatized and paranoid and juggling like 600% more in his head than the average person, which im told doesnt usually contribute to great boners. so there's that part. getting the man to put down his schedules and business concerns and the three different cases hes working on in the back of his head and the updates he wants to make to the batmobile and all that shit. that guy is Distracted during sex. he loses his boner at least once a session because he starts thinking about killer croc or something and yeah hes freaky but not really in that direction, sorry. this is a thing that happens to him and is a known phenomenon to his partners.

and then second of all physiologically im not convinced that he hasnt mangled his penis to some degree in the course of all the training and crimefighting and whatnot. like even taking extra pains to protect it as im sure he would, all of the times that man has been exploded and thrown through walls and glass and all of the jumping off of buildings and swinging around he does?? i simply dont believe his penis has emerged entirely unscathed. you absolutely cant tell me that in the early days he didnt at least twice take a running leap off of something, misjudge his landing, and absolutely destroy his balls when he slipped and took a wrought iron fence full force between the legs. this must have happened. i know it to be true that this man has scars on his dick that he didn't ask someone to put there on purpose and i do kinda think it could eventually affect his sexual function, even aside from the impact of all of his other various and perpetual injuries causing him pain.

so what im saying is that my headcanon is that batman's dick game is weak as hell at least 50% of the time. what that dick do? today, absolutely nothing. tomorrow, who knows. which tbh i find kinda hot in a roundabout way actually, so. love that for him. sorry about your penis, batman.

[yoyokslut]

Moody Rafe

pairing: boyfriend!rafe x reader.

warnings: angst with fluffy ending.

summary: rafe has been a little stressed and snaps at you making you cry.

a/n: english isn’t my first language so I apologize for any mistakes.

Rafe's been busy dealing with his business so he hasn’t payed that much of attention to you these past days, he’s also been stressed, anxious and cranky, somehow avoiding you because he doesn’t want to contagious you his mood.

You entered his office, trying to get his attention 'cause you’ve missed him so much and wanna see if you can convince him of taking a break of work this time.

“Hey, baby.” You said softly approaching him slow.

He looked up at you when he heard your voice and sighed. Of course he’s missed you too, but he really needed to take care of his business and didn’t want you to see him all moody.

“Baby… I’m not done yet with this.” He said in a plead voice tryna tell you, you shouldn’t be in his office right now.

“I know, I know. I didn’t want to distract you but it’s been a long week and I miss you, Rafe.”

You said unconsciously making a small pout.

His gaze softened noticing your pout. You’d always do it when you really wanted something.

He rubbed his neck looking at you knowing you weren’t gonna like that this time he couldn’t give in.

“I can’t right now. I really can’t. I have this.”

He said motioning to his laptop and you can visibly see the second he got all tensed by just mentioning it.

“But maybe just a min-“

You couldn’t even finished what you were saying when he interrupted you harshly.

“I said I can’t. Not everything will always go your way and you need to understand that.”

You started talking in a lower voice this time knowing he wasn’t in the mood.

“One minute won’t hurt-“

“Seriously. I’ve got shit to do. Can’t just fucking drop it to please your every whim.”

He said not looking at you but at the screen.

“Please, just need to cuddle for one moment, puppy-“

He groaned when you kept pushing and snapped at you.

“And now that stupid pet name. Stop fucking calling me that cheesy annoying shit and quit pushing it. I’m busy and don’t have time for this.”

He said in a sharp voice looking at the screen.

You stared at him frowning and with teary eyes, no matter how hard he was having it he had never talked to you like that… Until now. With a nod and a small okay in a broken voice you walked out his office making your way to the bedroom.

He recognized that tone in your voice and cursed himself for upsetting you. Took a couple of minutes to calm down before going to look for you.

He entered the room looking at you all curled up on bed. Your eyes slightly red and puffy from crying. His heart shrank at the sight of you like that because of him. He slowly walked towards the bed and said gently.

“Baby? I’m sorry I talked to you like that. You don’t deserve that. I’m just with so much going on right now, of course that’s no excuse. I was an ass for talking like that and if you don’t want to forgive me you have every right. Just wanted to say I’m so, so sorry.”

He mumbled kneeled in front of you on the edge of the bed.

You gazed at him with your bottom lip slightly out.

“Oh- and what I said about the pet name? Of course I like everything you call me, my precious girl.”

He cupped your cheek stroking it with his thumb.

“Sure, I don’t see the resemblance with a puppy but I like whatever you wanna call me, I promise.”

You chuckled softly before muttering.

“You’ve got puppy eyes, baby.”

He laughed nodding.

“Yes, love. Whatever my pretty girl says.”

He sat next to you stroking your hair.

“You gonna forgive me, hm?”

“You’ll have to earn it and make it up to me.”

You voiced quietly looking into his eyes giving him an amused smile.

“Anything, baby. Whatever you want. Just name it, sweet girl.”

[miange1]

THANOS

male reader, thanos being pushy, bathroom sex, i'm a heavy believer thanos loves rough sex, aphrodisiacs, reader pretends he feels nothing for thanos, reader is a Korean speaker yet race is not mentioned, italics means switching to english, homesickness, anal fingering, being forced to stay quiet, thanos has a big dick and you cant prove me wrong, im 100% sure he's experienced in every kind of sex possible, brian moser typa freak, reader isn't a virgin he just hasn't had say gex

"Ah! You're alive!" He smiled, coming to hug you tight in his arms. He took small note of how you looked at him, how happy he was even after many people had died, there was no reason to be happy.

Yet to him, there was. He was seeing you, and he was head over heels just for you. He would pull multiple things just to make sure you wouldn't be hurt in the slightest, whether it meant keeping you close to him, or having others die just to keep you by his side.

Scoffing, you shoved yourself off of him and squinted your eyes towards him. "Don't touch me. You're weird." His voice turned whiney as he did the exact opposite, throwing his body into your shoulders and hanging off of you. "Come on, this ain't primary school is it? I don't have any cooties." He shook you slightly noticing that you laughed, he swore he heard it but you shook your head and frowned— claiming you did nothing of that sort.

"He has no interest in you." Nam-gyu came up behind him, patting his arm. Thanos shook his head, "No, he does. He just doesn't know it yet." Nam-gyu gave him a weird look, looking back over at you and watching as your expression changed when you went to your own group of choice. "See that? He didn't smile at you." Thanos planted his palm on the brunettes face, ignoring him and shoving him off.

"Oh— dude!"

"Shut up." Thanos kept his eyes on you, but his words directed towards his friend. "I can tell when someone is playing hard to get, it's easy." Nam-gyu shrugged, "I can't tell."

"Well of course you can't." Nam-gyu made a noise of offense. What was that supposed to mean?

Night fell, and everyone just wanted to sleep. Needed a break, especially you. It was pathetic to you, your stomach hurt and you felt like crying every single second. You missed your mom, and you just wanted to go home. You wanted to eat at the dinner table with her again, you wanted to mess around again, and feel happy. But now you were here just because you thought this was a quick way to get money.

"Fucking scam.." you muttered, getting from your mattress to head off to the bathroom. It was quiet, the floors squeaky underneath the unbranded shoes you wore on your feet. This whole situation was unsettling.

You took a moment, splashing a bit of water on your face to clear your head.

Multiple thoughts that ran through your head had been interrupted by the door opening. "I'll be out in a minute.." thinking it was a guard, you wiped your face and got ready to leave.

"Leave? I just got here."

Oh, thanos could just hear your eyes roll before he even saw you. "Why the long face, hm?" His purple hair blurred passed you as he leaned on the sink, grabbing your hand to pull you closer to him. When you didn't pull away, he already knew he had you.

"It's none of your business." He looked up a bit, shrugging. "Good point. But I don't like that answer." God he was annoying.

A harsh breath pushed from your nostrils, taking a moment to think about what to say. You thought, and you thought, but then you thought too hard and your lip started to quiver slightly. Eyes getting watery, trying to get something out but it was silent and Thanos didn't expect this from you.

He himself stuttered a bit before he took into action, feeling your hand pull away slightly he tightened his grip and pulled you closer. The usual smug look was much more caring and considerate truly wanting to hear you out. "I'm sorry I just.." more broken sobs came out.

"I'm sick..sick, of this. I want to go home, Thanos I want to go home." From a few inches away, to hugging yourself into his chest he allowed himself to have his arms around you.

A slight smile tugged at the edge of his lips, it's not that he was going to fake comfort you because he really did feel sorry. It's just that this was his chance.

He stopped hugging you for a moment, opening his necklace, taking out an orange pill and offering it to you. "It's something that will make you feel better." He mumbled a small, "I promise." After seeing your suspicious face.

You grabbed it, observing it a bit. "Thanos. Is this a sex drug?" He eyes averted a bit, lips going into a thin line. Your face had pure disbelief, but you popped it anyways. Before he could even smile, your lips connected with his and you backed him into the stall of the pink doors.

The two of you were already hard, grinding on each other and practically swapping spit. His hands were kept on your hips, making sure you stuck to him like glue and didn't part from him.

"Oh fuck.." your voice, God he loved your voice and he needed to hear more of it. His lips came to your neck, open mouthed and sloppy and making sure marks were left for others to see that he finally had you.

Your fingers went to his hair, gripping them due to the pleasure he was bringing you. Damn he was good even if he was just dry humping you and sucking your neck. It made you think how many times he must have had sex before this as well, making you feel just a bit jealous.

You gripped tighter, pulling his head back so he could look you in your eyes. You shivered a bit feeling saliva drip down to your collar bone. Gross. "Fuck anyone after this, and I'll kill you myself." He giggled like an idiot, nodding his head. "Yes sir."

His tongue came to suck on his own fingers for a bit, while his other hand worked on pushing your pants and boxers down. "This gonna feel weird, just give it a minute." His joking tone dropped, giving you a bit of a feeling in your dick. He sounded like he wasn't high 24/7 though the two of you were high off of an aphrodisiac. It was just attractive.

His fingers prodded for a moment, before pushing in and you had instantly yelped. He pushed your head into his shoulder, shushing you. "It isn't that I care." He spoke softly into your ear, "But it would bother you if someone heard, hm?" His painted fingers moved inside of you, thrusting in and out and he knew exactly what he was doing and it had you crumbling right then and there, you were sure he was holding half your body weight up.

"Thanos, Thanos, fuck.." He himself had groaned, his own eyes rolling back hearing you moan out just for him. His fingers pulled out, making sure you kept still. "Don't move too much." Your eyebrow cocked a bit, what did he mean? He took out his own, tip red and sensitive as he messaged it up and down just a bit.

But you, your eyes were wide with surprise and almost regret. "No." He looked back up at you, "No?" But he needed a yes.. "No. No way is that gonna fit." Oh, that was it. He almost thought you were gonna leave him like this. "Oh, but please." He put your chin up, kissing at your neck again to keep you distracted.

"It's only gonna sting a little..tiny.." He pushed inside, too eager to wait it out and go inch by inch. You winced, hitting his shoulder as even more tears pricked at your eyes yet they were tears of pleasure.

"Shush, hey hey, stop moving." You whined and complained. What did he mean stop moving? This fucking hurt! But he only had so much time to prep you up.

"Slow, go slow—" "I am going slow." The feeling of his girth stretching you open was pain you never felt before, yet it felt so good at the same time. Groans turned into moans and whimpers, your harsh grip turning into soft squeezes on his clothes from each thrust he was giving you.

"Shit..so tight.." As much as he had wanted you to moan loud for him, you were getting a bit too loud yet you couldn't help it. He kept you preoccupied by kissing you, muffling your noises down just a little bit.

He was so damn close, could feel your pre on open skin and could feel himself pulsing inside of you, he was so close—

"Player 230, and 231."

[xo100]

Hi! Could I ask Lando with pregnant reader. Like maybe her getting dizzy bc of all the paparazzis and fans surrounding. Maybe angsty. Dunno if you'll like the idea, but I honestly love ur work soo much

Our little miracle - LN4

*:･ﾟ Summary/request: request by anon as you can read above this!

*:･ﾟ Word count: 1244

*:･ﾟ A/N: first of all I want to say sorry for not being so active lately! I’ve been busy with school and work, I didn’t had any time to write! Second I want to say thank you so much anon! I hope you like this story too! If not let me known!

masterlist / community / request

౨ৎ

The late morning sunlight filtered through the curtains, warming the bedroom and casting soft golden streaks on the walls. The gentle hum of the city outside was barely audible over the rhythmic sound of Lando’s breathing beside you. His arm was slung lazily over your waist, his warmth seeping into your skin like a comforting blanket.

You blinked sleepily, turning your head to look at him. His face was still soft with sleep, his hair a wild mess of curls that begged to be smoothed down. He looked so peaceful like this, so completely at ease, and it made your heart ache in the best way.

“Caught you staring,” he mumbled, his voice raspy as his lips curled into a sleepy grin.

“I wasn’t staring,” you lied, your cheeks heating up.

“Sure,” he teased, his eyes still closed. “You’ve been staring at me every morning for the past five years. It’s okay, I’m used to it.”

You rolled your eyes, but your smile gave you away. “Good morning, Lando.”

“Morning,” he said, finally opening his eyes. They were warm and bright, like pools of melted chocolate, and they crinkled at the corners as he smiled at you. “Guess what day it is?”

You blinked, still half-asleep. “Uh… Saturday?”

“Baby shopping day,” he announced, his grin widening.

You couldn’t help but laugh at his enthusiasm. “You’re more excited about this than I am.”

“Of course I am!” he said, propping himself up on one elbow. “We’re picking out stuff for our baby. This is a big deal.”

It was a big deal. After months of trying—months of hope and heartbreak—you were finally here. Fourteen weeks pregnant, your little miracle growing inside you. It still didn’t feel real sometimes, like you were dreaming and could wake up at any moment.

“I still can’t believe this is happening,” you said softly, your hand resting on your small but growing bump.

“It’s happening,” Lando said, covering your hand with his. His eyes softened as he looked at you, his thumb brushing gently over your knuckles. “And I can’t wait to spoil both of you today.”

---

The car ride into the city was filled with laughter and teasing. Lando, as usual, couldn’t resist cracking jokes, trying to lighten the nerves you hadn’t even realized you were feeling.

“Okay, but hear me out,” he said, glancing at you with a mischievous grin. “What if we name the baby after a car? Like… Ferrari Norris. Or McLaren Norris. That’s got a nice ring to it, right?”

You rolled your eyes, laughing. “Absolutely not. Our child is not going to be named after a car brand.”

“Fine,” he said, pretending to pout. “But if they grow up to be a racer, I’m taking full credit for the inspiration.”

The boutique Lando had chosen was tucked away in a quieter part of the city, its window displays filled with pastel-colored baby clothes and wooden toys. The moment you stepped inside, you were greeted by the soft scent of lavender and the faint sound of a lullaby playing over the speakers.

Lando’s eyes lit up as he took in the rows of tiny clothes and baby accessories. “This is it,” he said, grabbing your hand. “This is where we find all the cool stuff.”

You spent the next hour wandering the store, debating over cribs and strollers, laughing as Lando tried to convince you that the baby absolutely needed a mini Formula 1 onesie.

“Come on,” he said, holding it up with a grin. “How cute would they look in this?”

“They’d look adorable,” you admitted, “but they’ll probably outgrow it in a month.”

“Worth it,” he said, tossing it into the shopping basket.

You couldn’t help but smile at his enthusiasm. Seeing him like this—so excited, so ready to dive headfirst into parenthood—made your heart swell with love.

---

By the time you left the store, the sun had climbed higher in the sky, and the streets were bustling with activity. Lando carried the shopping bags in one hand, his other arm wrapped protectively around your shoulders.

You didn’t notice the paparazzi at first.

It started with a few flashes, the sudden brightness making you blink. Then came the voices—shouting questions and calling Lando’s name.

“Lando! Over here!” “How’s the season going?” “Is it true you’re expecting?”

The crowd seemed to grow out of nowhere, fans and photographers swarming around you. The noise was overwhelming, a cacophony of voices and camera clicks that made your head spin.

“Lando,” you said softly, gripping his arm.

He turned to you immediately, his eyes scanning your face. “Hey, are you okay?”

You tried to nod, but the dizziness was already setting in. The flashes, the shouting, the crush of bodies—it was too much.

“I don’t feel…” Your voice trailed off as your vision blurred.

Lando didn’t hesitate. Dropping the shopping bags, he wrapped his arm around your waist, holding you steady. “Alright, that’s enough!” he snapped, his voice sharp and commanding. “Back off! She’s pregnant. Give her some space!”

The crowd faltered, the realization rippling through them. But Lando didn’t wait for them to comply. He guided you away from the chaos, his body shielding yours as he led you down a quieter side street.

“Breathe, love,” he said softly, stopping to face you. His hands cupped your cheeks, his thumbs brushing away the tears that had started to fall. “In and out. I’ve got you.”

You nodded, focusing on his voice, his touch. The dizziness slowly faded, replaced by the steady rhythm of his heartbeat under your palm.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, guilt creeping in. “I ruined our day.”

“Don’t you dare apologize,” Lando said, his tone gentle but firm. “You and the baby come first. Always.”

You managed a weak smile. “Even over baby sneakers?”

“Even over baby sneakers,” he said, grinning. “But just barely.”

---

Back at home, the chaos of the day felt like a distant memory. Lando had insisted on ordering takeout, claiming that you deserved to be spoiled after the ordeal.

As you sat on the couch, surrounded by the shopping bags you’d managed to bring home, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of peace. Lando was in the kitchen, humming softly as he poured you a glass of water.

“Here you go,” he said, handing it to you before sitting down beside you. His hand immediately found its way to your stomach, resting there gently.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice soft.

“I’m okay,” you said, covering his hand with yours. “Thanks to you.”

He smiled, leaning in to press a kiss to your temple. “I can’t wait to meet them,” he said quietly, his voice filled with wonder.

“Me too,” you whispered, leaning into him.

For a while, the two of you sat in comfortable silence, the only sounds the faint hum of the city outside and the occasional rustle of the shopping bags.

“You know,” Lando said after a moment, “I meant what I said earlier. You and the baby come first. Always.”

You turned to look at him, your heart swelling with love. “I know,” you said. “And I love you for it.”

“I love you too,” he said, his eyes shining with emotion. “More than anything.”

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the room in a warm, golden glow, you realized that no matter what challenges lay ahead, you and Lando would face them together.

And that was all that mattered.

౨ৎ

*:･ﾟ Notes; thank you for reading, love’s! Hope you all enjoyed it! If there is something wrong or need to be edited, let me know!

*:･ﾟtags; @gridprincess-04 , @justaf1girl

[othystt]

17 18 30

17. favourite character you wrote this year?

probably connor mckinley. writing wddl has been a ride. connor is such a fun and interesting character (im delusional) to write and i cant wait to write more wddl. i got a lot of enjoyment writing through kevin and arnold's pov in kevin's guide. since that fic has been more lighthearted so far its been silly.

18. character that gave you the most trouble writing this year?

i would say trina from falsettos. not that she's hard to write, but trina is very complex in her feelings and how she portrays them throughout the story and writing her was a blast. there were a few lines i did with her in holding to the ground that i am very proud of. the other reason she was a bit tougher is that i was worrying all throughout me writing because the falsettos fandom is, one, a teeny bit scary sometimes and i dont want to mischaracterize someone and become hated, and two, there are already so many terrible falsettos fics i didnt want to contribute.

30. biggest surprise while writing this year?

oh this is a tricky one! i wrote something i never thought i would write, swore up and down i never would. i ALSO took another step out of what i usually write with kevin's guide, which is a crack/comedy vampire au and satire on shitty vampire stories like twilight (where all the vampires are hot, edgy teenagers) and my best friend is a vampire (where the protagonist gets turned into a vampire and has the time of his life sipping on juice boxes of pigs blood). the only other bigger surprise i can think of is the fact i didnt finish my first big fic this year. hyperfixations change.