#Sounds like a date to Billy

[fizzigigsimmer]

I am in a moody place, and as usual writing soothes me. I have no idea if there will be more of this, but have some broody post apocalyptic King!Steve.

The King Unbroken.

Jonathan was right. They must have crossed the border into what used to be California some time ago. Steve stared down at the old sign, half lodged in the dirt against a pile of twisted tree limbs. An old sign, more rust now than interstate green, nearly unreadable with vine cover. He could still just make out the faded off white letters that read: Little Valley. Five miles.

Sneering, Steve nudged aside the sign with the toe of his boot, revealing the dark opening of a small narrow room hallowed out in the stump of a once great tree - now dead, like so much else. He took one final sniff, spine tensing as he caught that faint whiff of salt that had followed him since they’d veered off route eighty. Maybe it was just sea air, carried in by the rain they had earlier that week. Or maybe it was something worse - like Hargrove.

He saw again, sharp blue eyes peering at him from behind the holes of a wooden mask - no doubt lifted from some museum - white paint highlighting the strange swirls and embellishments carved across the smooth surface of the wood, with brightly colored plumes of feathers jutting out from the top, more frightening than beautiful. It should have been cheesy - a jumped up kid with blood colored handprints staining his skin, trying to invoke fear by wearing the relics of some tribe long gone.

It wasn’t.

Hargrove’s reputation for brutality spoke for itself. And those eyes, that had been so focused in their hunger and unapologetic in Hargrove’s base desire to watch something weaker than himself squirm, had said the rest. Billy Hargrove had scared the piss out of Steve and that was saying something, given that between a choice of being handed over to a savage alpha in exchange for safe trade passages, or facing the flesh eating faceless monsters that roamed freely outside of the compound; Steve had chosen the monsters.

Fuck Billy Hargrove. Fuck his dad too. If the apocalypse had taught Steve anything, it was his value. He wasn’t good for much, but he could be a damn good shield for others. Funny it took the world ending for that to sink in. Because it didn’t matter anymore what his grades were or that he’d never been ‘the best’ at anything besides making others feel small while he stumbled down the path laid for him by his family status and his father’s money. None of it mattered because life was now a brutal game of survival, may the biggest asshole win, and even before the monsters gave him a reason everyone said that Steve Harrington was king asshole.

It wasn’t like Steve had gone through any great big revaluation or soul change. Turning over a new leaf had been literally as simple as turning over in his bunk the first night in the compound and accepting that none of the petty shit he used to care about mattered. Only, in the morning he’d still be alive while better people were dead, so either it was swallow the gun still resting on his nightstand or try and find a little good to do. That’s it. All he was living for. The chance to save a few better people and protect them for as long as he could. Maybe if humanity was lucky, one of those people might be the one to figure out how to deal with the monsters for good.

Everyone in the pack was in awe of the omega who carried a bat full of metal teeth and led raids against grey-dog hives, enemy packs and everything in between, like death couldn’t touch him and his heart was made of stone. There were plenty of people who would swear that Steve was heartless - even some of the ones he’d saved from the outside and brought into the pack himself - but he wasn’t. Not really. He kind of thought that if there ever was a moment that he felt safe enough to really think about everything he had been through since Day One, and everything he had done in between to survive, he’d probably lose it. It might break him, and then he truly would have been just a waste of space.

Which was precisely why he shoved it all down and never thought about it for too long. What was the point? Crying about the dead wasn’t going to bring them back. Neither would feeling guilty over the lives he’d taken. The kind of use the pack had for a soft sentimental omega, one who couldn’t or wouldn’t kill to survive was the stuff of nightmares. He’d seen it happen to most of the other omegas in his life. To his own mother. Only the strong survived here. Nothing was given for free. Anything of value on the other hand could always be taken, or traded.

Steve had proven that he could be more useful than just as a source of amusement and slick. That he could soldier with the best of them. He could get hit, kicked, knocked down, clawed full of holes, and drag himself back up every time. Since their first raid together his team had lost the fewest members and they still had the highest success rate of any party in the pack. Steve had carefully selected each member, because he’d always been good at surrounding himself with people stronger and smarter than himself, and convincing them somehow to care for him.

It was his one skill, besides hitting things. But by god he’d earned the right to say he’d proven he could make good use of what he had. He hadn’t survived watching those beasts tear apart his friends, seeing his mother passed around like a party favor for oil, just to end up sharing her fate. Traded off to a savage alpha to be bred and brutalized in an endless circle of hell until he died.

Fuck that!

Pushing the memory of the alpha aside, Steve knelt down onto his hands and knees and crawled inside, backward, tugging the heavy sign back into place after himself, and plummeting the den into darkness.

Breathing deep, the scent of dirt and rot filled his nose, and Steve Harrington breathed his first sigh of relief in days. It was stupid to think he would - no matter how much his dad complained about having to negotiate with a kid, it wasn’t Hargrove that needed them - but if there were any chance that Billy was following him, he wouldn’t be able to find Steve now.

Dead or not, the walls of the oak were thick. The natural scents of decay overpowered those of an unwashed human body. Even one of an omega flushed with heat and damp from exertion. Feeling around in the dark Steve’s fingers found the strap of the backpack with supplies that Robin had stashed there for him. It wasn’t much: a ratty old blanket (cheap in this warm climate). A water bottle (expensive anywhere). And a little plastic packet of Advil (worth more than gold these days).

But it’s more than most people have. Steve had always had more than what most people have. Even before the monsters came and civilization as he knew it crumbled around him. It wasn’t fair maybe, but life wasn’t fair. If it was, shitheads like him would have been the first to go in the apocalypse; the base of their power destroyed and unable to adapt to whatever new society emerged from the rubble. But that wasn’t what happened when the world as he knew it ended.

What happened was rich guys like his dad who survived long enough after the first appearance of the monsters, bought up resources while they fled to whatever approximation of safety money could buy them. They threw even more money at stocks and whatever else they hoped would make them richer once the danger was passed, and the smart ones stockpiled what they knew would become better than money in the event that the danger never did.

It hadn’t. Steve’s highschool, the stock market, and just about everything else from his old life was gone.

A few pockets of civilization still clung to life in a sea of monsters. Each colony ruled by whatever alphas had proven themselves better survivors than the rest, followed by those who hoped to be protected from a worse fate. Billy Hargrove was said to be one of the strongest alphas in the west.

He’d slaughtered the pack and taken over the territory that once had been their primary source of trade with the east. Steve’s father had offered him a king's ransom in goods for the promise to reopen trade. But Hargrove had only seemed to want one thing. The heartless omega he’d apparently heard so much about.

Curling up tighter in the small space, Steve brought the blanket over himself and shivered, despite the temperature he could feel climbing with each passing minute. His heat could not have come at a worse time but mercifully he’d made it to the den. With Jonathan and the others keeping a watch on the area he could be relatively confident that nothing would disturb him for a few days while he rode it out.

And when his heat was over, Steve had a new mission. Another chance to prove to his father that he had made a mistake, trading him to Hargrove.

Steve closed his eyes and slowed his breathing, trying to drift off to sleep to conserve his energy before the worst of the heat arrived. The faintest whisper of the sea tickled in the back of his nose, more memory than real. Haunting him. Steve gritted his teeth and silently renewed his vow.

He was going to bring his father back Billy’s head, along with the territory that came with it. And when he did no one would ever question again why he’d survived this long, unchained and unbroken.

[midnighteclipze]

Was messin around in Billie's chapter again (per usual) and was tryna get this screenie, and while I did, I discovered that the longer you wait and watch her approach, not only can you hear her footsteps, but you can HEAR HER BAT DRAGGING ACROSS THE FUCKING FLOOR?!?!?!

[fisheadz]

I wanted to expand more on my SWTD + ISM crossover. I’m just… so ill for it. I swear to the hallucinogenic pasta noodles that I’ll be getting back to requests and stuff soon, I’m just still working on my fic and my life and now this shit.

Spoilers for both Still Wakes The Deep and In Sound Mind, of course. Tread with caution, and a tolerance for the long rants of a man taken by the brain worms™️.

What if Caz ends up in the CU at some point? Desmond would have to go back in to keep him from going nuts. If he hasn’t already, that is.

A headcanon of mine is that, once a person has succumbed to their Shadow, they’re left as a sort of husk, a shell of themselves. They function, yeah, but they certainly aren’t themselves. They move around, they do miscellaneous tasks and they even work, but they don’t speak, at least not normally. Like, if they’re asked something common, like if they’re alright or something, they’ll answer with whatever they usually say to that question. If they’re asked anything more complex, they’ll just repeat a generic, common response, or not answer at all. Think, the Shadows talking to themselves and Desmond, but not really saying anything complex outside of their feelings and their goals (mostly just to kill Desmond).

Something like that happens to Caz, after he gets exposed to AR like Desmond or Lucas had (I’m thinking Lucas, because whatever strain of the stuff they dosed Desmond with just sent him into a funky coma) in some way. They get a call from Suze (with Billy flipping out in the background) and she says that Caz has suddenly stopped making sense, and he’s just been doing the dishes, or sweeping the floor, or whatever, for an unreasonable amount of time now, and they’re worried about him. So they go to their place to try and get through to Caz.

I think Lucas was in the CU during his own exposure to it way back when, in a sort of "pocket space" similar to the patients homes, or Desmond’s office, or even the In Between Tapes. But he wasn’t there for long, either due to the dosage of the chemical, the strain, or some other factor. Therefore, he has some experience with it, but not as much as Desmond. I imagine there would be a brief fight about it, because Desmond’s terrified of going back, but is their best bet to help Caz, and Lucas knows Desmond’s scared but would have no idea what he’s doing. But they can’t both go in. Rosemary is busy, and the others are off the table.

Eventually, Suze gets fed the fuck up with how long this is taking, and puts her foot down. Either they make up their minds and take her with, or she goes in alone. Billy is… not happy about this, but he’s also getting impatient. This is their partner on the line, and they aren’t keen on wasting time when he could be in danger in there.

And so, Desmond and Suze (against his and Lucas’ wishes, but they can’t exactly stop her once she’s made up her mind) go into the Collective, and right off the bat, Desmond can tell something’s off (more so than usual).

Either due to the Shapes presence in the form of Caz (and maybe Billy and Suze, depending on if they’re Infected by now) or something else, things are definitely different. The Building is wrecked (again, more so than usual), and the town outside, while not as flooded as when he left, is practically destroyed, in a way that the tainted water couldn’t achieve.

So now, Desmond is trying to convince Suze to leave, because now things are even more uncertain, and she’s getting pissed off because of, well, everything. Lucas is on the phone with Rosemary, feeding them as much information and tips as he can through the radio, and suddenly he informs them that something’s changed with Caz.

Now they have a time limit, so there’s no time to fight about Suze being there. There search for Caz’s door, and find it somewhere on the first floor with the other’s doors. (I imagine it’s be a dark blue or smt, or maybe the same funky pink color the Shape was had.) They go in, and it’s their old home. The bedroom is kept shut by a sort of veil or small sheet or smt made of oil. I’m sure you can see where this is going.

They get Caz’s tape (he’s nowhere in the Building, so it’s their only option) and play it. Once they do, and once they listen to his session bits with Desmond, they find themselves - oh oh, guess where! - on the rig.

Of course, it’s not as wrecked as it was when Caz last saw it, more like it was soon after the first explosion, after Caz woke up. And they can hear him, his howling echoing through the rig. They can’t see him yet, but he sounds big. They find some more of those oil veils, though they don’t have anything to remove them just yet.

There’s the obligatory call from Rainbow to mess with Desmond, because I said so, but there’s also other calls. It’s similar to the session fragments in Lucas’ tape, though instead of how they were presented there, in Caz’s tape they’re the phone calls he had while on the rig, although not all of them are like that. Some of them are more like internal or external dialogue, like when he first encountered each infected, or when he talked to other survivors, like his conversation with Finlay before Gibbos section. If this were from a gameplay standpoint, they’d only find these calls or voicemails or whatevers by picking up a phone with something different about it. Depending on where the phone is, it will play a specific line. From a fic standpoint, they just hear the phones ringing once they get close. At first they ignore them, because they think it’s Rainbow and they don’t have time for that right now, but after answering a call from him while they’re safe, they go back and listen to them to try and piece together enough to defeat Caz’s Shadow.

Speaking of his Shadow, I’d like to think that it sorta takes the form of @milestonekestrel ‘s (sorry bout the @) Infected Lizard Caz. Big ol’ lizard chasing Desmond and Suze through the rig as it slowly but surely falls apart beneath them. It wouldn’t be all fleshy squishy though, it will be leaking oil (though I can’t decide if it want it to be AR oil stuff or more like the tainted water stuff, or a combo of Shape stuff and AR stuff) and parts of it will be practically made of it. It would be a bit bigger than the Bull, so that it can move through the rig, and get blocked off in reasonable spots, and just generally be terrifying while chasing Desmond and Suze. It would talk a lot like the Infected did, with some Shadow-typical stuff thrown in. They can’t really hurt it without the item, though they can briefly stun it by shooting its stomach when it lunges.

And, because of course, one of the things you need is Caz’s screwdriver, like in Max’s tape. I’m weak, okay?

The item/weapon for Caz’s tape is, you guessed it! His lighter. It would be in his room (Desmond and Suze would’ve entered the tape in the helipad) and with it, they can burn Caz’s Shadow by lighting its oily spots on fire. While it’s distracted trying to extinguish the flames, they run to a safe area. Wash rinse repeat until they reach the derrick.

The boss fight happens there, of course, and I suck ass at action so no specifics, but they defeat his Shadow (the Infected? Maybe just call it the Shape to be lazy? What about the Flesh? That’s fun) and, after the heart-to-heart with it, it fades away, and they return to the Building and het back in contact with Lucas, who confirms that Caz is back to himself and really wants his wife back. So they return, and that’s that!

I think that, like some of the other tapes, there would be echos of sorts of the other crew members, and while I’m on the fence about there being Inkblots, considering that Rainbow clearly had the ability to spawn them, though it’s unclear if he spawns all of them, and I’d like Rainbow to be a more neutral force here, I want there to be some sort of damage-causing force where the Infected were on the rig. Like how the echos in Lucas’ tape damage you sometimes, but on a bigger scale, requiring Desmond and Suze to sneak around the area to avoid getting hurt. Smt like that. Sorta like the mannequins in terms of lore and interactions but, evil, y’know?

Meanwhile, outside of the Collective Unconscious, Billy and Lucas are just chatting away. I have no idea how well they’d get along, but I think Billy would certainly appreciate the distraction. He’s used to weird shit by now, with where I put this in the crossover not-quite-story, but that doesn’t mean he knows much about what’s happening, so hearing about it from Lucas himself is comforting.

When Suze and Desmond finally get out of the CU, she, Caz, and Billy have a long heart-to-heart, and after a while of being ignored, Desmond and Lucas decide to check up on them later, and leave to have their own little post-angst comfort talk.

I have zero fricking idea how this turned into an almost-fic, but I’m not about to change it. I have so many ideas about Caz’s tape and his Shadow, and how many metaphors I can reasonably shove into it, but I do not wanna write it all out rn.

What his Rorschach test transcript said, and what song his vinyl is, is up for interpretation. I imagine that the last letter Suze sent him is near his lighter, and the one Suze reads at the end of SWTD is in the bedroom behind the oil veil. Ugh I have so many ideas bro :’^.

[mariofan-32]

Listen I know this is important to me and only to me but I need to know everyone's opinion on this.

(Reblog for bigger sample size ofc. /not forced)

[solarmorrigan]

So "Uptown Girl" released in 1983, and I feel like Steve would have sung it to Nancy sometimes, and she would humor him, because it was sweet, and he actually sounded pretty good when he wasn't doing it just to be goofy

Fast forward a few years, Eddie and Steve are dating, and they're sitting on the couch at Eddie's place one evening, comfortably high, Eddie noodling around on his acoustic and Steve just kinda vibing. And Eddie knows Steve likes Billy Joel, so he starts up with the tune of the first one he can think of: "Uptown Girl." And suddenly Steve's mouth is dropping open like he's just had some great realization

Eddie: What is it?

Steve, in a hushed voice: I'm the uptown girl

Eddie laughs so hard he falls off the couch

[cuteandhughesy]

Met You At The Right Time, This Is What It Feels Like | Quinn Hughes

summary: falling in love with quinn through your shared years at college (umich!quinn x reader)

[word count] 3.3k

warnings: NSFW! university relationship | kissing | mentions of drinking and partying | smut | loosing virginity | mentions of p in v intercourse | mature themes and dialogue | read at your own discretion

a/n: based off this request! this was so fucking fun and cute to write and now I want quinn as my boyfriend ! so hope you all feel the same

🎵 feels like by gracie abrams, constellations by jade lemac, birds of a feather by billie eilish, + live while we're young by one direction

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

ღ bf! quinn hughes who you first met at the rink. one of your good friends was dating another one of the wolverines and asked you to accompany her to his game.

quinn had spotted you during the warm-ups. your smile wide and amused as you watched all the athletes warm up in their own routines. you were joking with chloe—your friend—while her boyfriend tossed you both pucks over the glass. quinn almost passed out when you glanced his way—sending him a sweet, reserved grin. he forced himself to smile back, and when that made you blush and look away, quinn knew that he had to know you.

ღ bf! quinn hughes who asked his teammate about you as soon as the game finished—a victory for the wolverines, thankfully. he attempted to sound nonchalant and uninterested, but his teammate knew quinn too well. he wrapped quinn up in a firm, annoying side huge and gave him a nugie, all while saying 'does huggy bear have a crush on y/n?'

quinn thought the name suited you perfectly. thankfully quinn doesn’t need to ask again before his teammate is getting your number from chloe.

ღ bf! quinn hughes who texted you the following night. at first you were confused—a random number sending you a message with no identification other than a simple 'hey, is this y/n?' curious and intrigued, you responded immediately; 'this is she. who's this?'

quinn's response was immediate, 'shit, sorry. it's quinn hughes.'

and of course that made you giggle into your palm, feet kicking like you're an oversized excited child. because quinn fucking hughes was texting you. quinn hughes, the cutie who sits two rows back from you in kinesiology class. quinn hughes who was stupid good at hockey and was looking at you during warmups the day before.

you don't even care how he got your number (he told you regardless though, obviously), all you cared about was him wanting to text you in the first place.

ღ bf! quinn hughes who after a week and a million shared text messages later, you run into at a local coffee shop—where you merely miss spilling your entire iced chai down the front of his light coloured hockey hoodie.

he freezes and stutters at the sight of your flushed face, and his nerves only build when he sees that you're not nervous to talk to him. quinn quickly realizes he has some sort of infatuation with you, and before he can sike himself out he asks you on a date.

quinn asks in the middle of your scentence, but you don't even care. he's cute—he's dorky. 'would you wanna get dinner together sometime? like maybe thursday, if you're free?'

you are so free.

ღ bf! quinn hughes who picks you up at your dorm room before your first date. he lives off campus with his friends, and he borrowed his roommates car to come and get you. he brings you flowers—which you put in an empty orange juice bottle that you filled with water—and hugs you at the door. it’s kinda awkward and so perfectly quinn.

he lets his hand hover your lower back as you walk to the car, and of course he opens the door for you. quinn lets you play your music in the car, and he lets you talk his ear off—he can’t help but admire how comfortable you are around him. he thinks you’re like sunshine.

quinn takes you to a local italian restaurant, where you order chicken alfredo and he orders spaghetti bolognese. the conversation flows between you easily, and by the time desert rolls around, you’re sharing a lava cake—your respective spoons swiping at each others while playfully fighting for the same bites.

ღ bf! quinn hughes who after bringing you back to your dorm, grabs your wrist before you can walk in. your roommate isn’t home yet, and you can smell the peonies quinn brought that you left in the jug by the door.

you blink at him curiously, because you’ve already shared your pleasant goodbyes and made plans to see each other again. ‘you okay?’

quinn’s palm is sweaty where it wraps around you. he’s nervous, and he swallows roughly—eyes darting around your blushing face like he can’t get enough. ‘can I kiss you?’

your answer is pushing up to your toes and wrapping you arms around his neck. that’s when quinn leans down, kissing you timidly but also firmly. he’s never felt lips softer than yours, and you’ve never had a kiss turn your stomach inside out the way quinn’s did.

ღ bf! quinn hughes who asks you on a second date, and then a third, and then a fourth. each date is accompanied by a kiss, and another kiss—until all it feels like you’re doing is giggling and kissing like teenagers.

he’s a gentleman, and never makes advances that you aren’t comfortable with. quinn brings you to the beach for sunsets, kissing you under the glow of the setting sun. he takes you to the movies and to a local pottery class—sneaking kisses anytime your eyes meet.

he asks you to be his girlfriend on your fourth date while you’re both still in the car, hands twitching against his pants nervously. you’ve never smiled bigger, and you squeal in excitement, leaning over the centre console and kissing him.

ღ bf! quinn hughes who has never had a serious girlfriend before, only stupid month or so situationships and meaningless hookups. so now that he’s got you, an actual girlfriend, he’s enamoured by all the little ‘girlfriend’ things you do.

quinn goes feral when you wear his clothes. the sight of you waking up in his cozy bed, blinking tiredly while his shirt rides up your body, revealing your underwear…quinn just about dies.

you cook dinner for him, and you always tickle his back when he’s falling asleep. you want to watch all his favourite movies, and you want to learn about hockey—which leads to him teaching you how to skate, where you inevitably fall and bring him down with you.

you’re the perfect girlfriend. and even though quinn stresses he doesn’t need you to fold his laundry or pick up his shampoo when you notice he’s out, he appreciates it more than he could ever express.

ღ bf! quinn hughes who always is getting you flowers. whether it’s a pre-made bouquet from the grocery store, an arrangement he picked out at the florist, or a bunch of wild flowers from the park beside his house, quinn is giving you flowers.

when he’s at the grocery store he always picks up your favourite ben & jerry’s ice cream, as well as your favourite drink. quinn always makes sure you have water before he gets in bed himself, because you’ll be upset if you don’t, and he lets you tuck your feet under his legs because they’re always cold.

quinn is the sweetest boy you’ve ever known and he is constantly making sure you’re content before anything else.

ღ bf! quinn hughes who takes your virginity. you’ve only had one boyfriend and that was back in highschool—the farthest you’d gone with him was kissing and a little groping. when you tell quinn that you’re a virgin, he’s a little nervous—especially because he’s already hovering over you, painfully hard while your bare tits are starring at him. the only reason he’s nervous is because he wants you to be comfortable and sure. he wants it to be perfect for you.

but when you assure him in a breathy whisper, your small nimble fingers reaching out and squeezing his dick, quinn can’t hold himself back any longer. he fucks you soft and sweet, bucking into you at a pace that has your breath hitching. quinn checks on you through the whole thing, scattering kisses along your face and neck while you’re moaning in pleasure.

it’s perfect for you, and that makes it perfect for quinn.

ღ bf! quinn hughes who plays a little extra hard when you’re in the crowd. there’s something so special about having you watching him in the stands during his games, cheering him on and jumping up and down with excitement. quinn swears he can hear you over the crowd, and that always pushes him a little bit more.

ღ bf! quinn hughes who always makes sure to comfort you when you’re stressed—and vice versa.

you often get overwhelmed with your school work. you’re very smart and have a jam packed schedule, and a lot of the time if you want to spend time with quinn, you’re bringing your textbooks and laptop so you can get some work done. quinn hates the way you sigh shakily when you reach a difficult question. you’re tired and done with school, and most of the time it makes you emotional.

when you begin to cry quinn darts to you, wrapping you in a hug while you sob into his shoulder. he rubs your back soothingly, squeezing your arms and sides comfortingly. he whispers words of reassurance in your ear until you’ve calmed down, and when you inevitably get back to work, quinn helps you. even though he has no fucking clue what you’re working on, the effort makes you melt.

quinn is always the most stressed when he’s dealing with an injury or illness—because that puts a pause on hockey. you know how much hockey means to your boyfriend, and seeing him so broken about not being able to play just wrecks you. in times like that, it’s the little things you do that help quinn feel better.

making him food and making sure he’s stocked up on drinks and getting his electrolytes. massaging his shoulders and giving him head scratches. if he’s injured you make sure he’s got everything in reach so he doesn’t have to move, and if he’s sick you make sure you’re in reach, because all quinn ever wants is you.

ღ bf! quinn hughes who isn’t a huge party guy. he prefers staying in—watching movies and hockey highlights until he’s falling asleep, preferably with you tucked into his side.

you’ve always been more outgoing than quinn, and mingling is one of your favourite things to do. so every now and then when you go out, quinn joins you. he loves watching you in your element—dancing with your friends and talking to anyone who will listen. and when you’re wrapping yourself around quinn, blinking and pouting up at him all pretty asking him to dance with you, quinn never declines.

ღ bf! quinn hughes who has a few lovey dovey nicknames for you—lovey being one of them. there’s a few more common terms of endearment like babe, baby and beautiful that often slip from his lips like second nature. they’re the safest ones, the nicknames he’ll call you around his friends and yours like it’s no big deal. but then there’s the nicknames he reserves for when it’s just you both—honey, his girly, and your personal favourite: lovey.

your nicknames for quinn are simple—usually just babe or baby. but on the odd occasion when everything feels really soft and intimate, you’ll can him bubba.

ღ bf! quinn hughes who’s love language is words of affirmation. he didn’t realize it until after he met you that it was his love language, but anytime you praise him or reassure him, quinn’s stomach swoops and his heart flutters excitedly. he’s obsessed with the way you speak to him, and he’ll never get tired of it.

ღ bf! quinn hughes who knows your love language is physical touch. you love being close to quinn. if you’re not sitting next to him, you’re sitting on him—trying to get as close as possible at any means necessary. you love wrapping your hands around his arm, and throwing your leg over his hips when you’re in bed together.

quinn can be a bit awkward when it comes to physical contact, especially in public, and you understand and respect that. so when you’re out together and he kisses your cheek or wraps you in a hug, it makes it just that much sweeter.

ღ bf! quinn hughes who may not always go out to parties with you, but will always drop you off and pick you up if you need a ride. it could be a local bar or a random sticky frat house, quinn will be there if you need him.

he’s the most patient human in the world. guiding you to the car while you babble about nonsense—completely hammered. quinn pulls over if you feel sick, even if you has to pull over 15 times in a 5 minute ride. he helps you shower if you’re sticky, and he puts you in pyjamas before you get in bed—no matter who’s place you’re at. quinn makes you chug water and take advil, and he makes sure you’re sleeping on your side incase you get sick.

and he doesn’t even mind doing it either. as long as you’re safe and okay, quinn will do whatever he needs to.

ღ bf! quinn hughes who says I love you first. you’ve been dating for 6 months, and spring is blooming in michigan. it’s the first really warm day of march, and he’s taken you to the pier for a afternoon date.

you walk the pier and have shitty boardwalk food—laughing, kissing and talking about anything and everything. dates like this are always your favourite. just you, quinn and the comforting atmosphere.

you had been mid talking about the book you were reading, a book that was making you angry because you claimed the plot was ‘stupid’. you were telling quinn about the main character, hands moving animatedly as you talked when quinn just said it.

‘I love you so much, y/n’ he said quitley. but you heard it, and your previous ramble comes to a halt. you blinked once, and then again, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. and then tears begin forming in your eyes, and quinn smiles. ‘don’t cry lovey’ he said, pulling you into his chest.

but of course you continue to cry, holding onto quinn like your life depended on it. and when you look up at him and say it back, lashes all wet and nose running, quinn thinks you’ve never looked prettier.

ღ bf! quinn hughes who has to be almost sneaky when it comes to having sex with you. you live in a dorm room with a roommate, and he lives in a house with four other teammates. quinn doesn’t have his own car, and neither do you. having sex is like trying to curate a spy mission.

you have to plan times you’ll be alone, which is usually in your dorm room between 5 p.m and 6:30 p.m while you’re roommate is in a clinical lab. that’s always the best sex with quinn because he doesn’t have to hold back. he holds you against the mattress with his body, and there’s a pillow shoved under your hips while he slips in from behind. quinn pounds you into the mattress until it’s creaks, and he has to cover your mouth to muffle your moans. after all, it’s still a dorm room and you have neighbours.

but there are times when you’re both too impatient and horny. his roommates are scattered through his house, half downstairs and the other only a room over. quinn’s simple and innocent kisses soon turn more heated, and before either of you can think logically, you’re exposing only the essentials so quinn can slip into your heat while he holds your legs open.

your moans are muffled with his lips, and he shoves a pillow between the wall and headboard to not give away what you’re doing.

ღ bf! quinn hughes who gets really stressed once scouts starts checking him out for the upcoming draft. you notice in the way his shoulders are tighter, and he starts to get a little distant.

of course it hurts your feelings, but you understand the pressure he’s feeling. so like the sweet girlfriend quinn knows you to be, you reassure him. you’re not too pushy, and you’re not overwhelming. you kiss him gently and whisper your confidence in him when it’s just the two of you, facing each other in bed—nothing but the moonlight illuminating you.

it helps him more than you’ll ever know.

ღ bf! quinn hughes who is a silent jealous type. he knows you’re social, and he also knows that guys love that. when you’re at parties and mingling your little heart out, lots of guys will try and make advances on you.

you ooze confidence, and your smile is so fucking pretty that quinn almost understands these guys. but you’re his girlfriend, and the sight of these boys trying to touch you and flirt with you makes his blood boil.

of course you don’t entertain them, but that doesn’t stop the jealousy that stirs within your boyfriend. you can always tell when quinn is feeling jealous because his body gets tense and he pouts like a little boy. it doesn’t matter where you are—could be the beach and strangers are checking out your body, or a grocery store and a man compliments your smile, quinn always has the same jealous reaction. and that’s no reaction at all expect that frown.

when you see it you’re instantly moving, wrapping yourself around quinn and giving his pulse point a little kiss. and when you murmur that you love him, quinn always cracks.

ღ bf! quinn hughes who even when you’re fighting, never raises his voice at you. it doesn’t matter how frustrated he is, or how pointless your argument is, quinn would never yell. most of the time is just makes you angrier, because why can’t he just put you in your place—especially when you know you’re being annoying and stupid. but quinn always just tries to problem solve in a calm, soothing voice.

but don’t worry, he puts you in your place in other ways ;)

ღ bf! quinn hughes who asks you to stay with him for a few weeks in the summer at the lake house before the draft.

if quinn wasn’t in love with you already, seeing you with his family would’ve had him falling. you always cook breakfast with ellen in the morning, the two of you giggling and chatting like you’ve known each other for ears. you go golfing with quinn and his dad, and even though you suck at it, jim has nothing but praise and encouragement for you.

jack and luke tease you like you’re their sister. they push you into the pool and steal your fries when you’re not looking, which always makes you laugh. you blend in with his family so well, quinn can’t do anything but smile and admire it all as it unfolds.

you sit with quinn during bonfires and movie nights on the couch, sharing quick kisses when you both think nobody is watching—news flash, somebody is always watching, which usually ends with his mom cooing or his brothers teasing. you and quinn both wake up a little extra early, stifling moans as quinn pushes into your heat in the uninterrupted hours of the morning. you swim like kids, go grocery shopping with his brothers, dance in the moonlight as taylor swift songs, make out on the boat when everyone else stays back. it’s perfect. its simply just you and quinn.

ღ bf! quinn hughes who you sit beside at the nhl draft. he’s nervous, your hand clutched in his clammy one while his thumb runs over your knuckles absentmindedly. just before the draft starts, you squeeze his hand three times, a silent I love you. and quinn squeezes back.

his name gets called and you feel like crying. he hugs his parents first, and then quinn turns to you, a smile on his face while your eyes begin to go misty. he kisses you, in front of the cameras and the crowd because he knows you’re going to be together for the rest of your lives, and the nhl might as well get used to you now, because you’re not going anywhere.

[cherspastries]

PRETTY THINGS,

WITTY WORDS!

GET IN LINE!

Lando Norris x Reader

SUMMARY 𐙚 Lando’s been waiting for the right moment to make a move. When he finds out you’ve broken up with your toxic boyfriend, he seizes the perfect opportunity!

WARNINGS 𐙚 Mentions of a toxic relationship

A/N 𐙚 First SMAU ever… I had to break out my graphic design skills for this one 🫣

DIRECTORY | MASTERLIST | REQUESTS: OPEN

lando

🎵 MF DOOM • Coffin Nails

liked by abercrombie, mclaren, lnfour, and 523K others

lando Don’t miss out on this

view all comments

user1 He’s sooo fine

user2 who’s missing out on what?! 😩

abercrombie on the merch! Buy it now!! 😤

user3 We all dread the day someone claims a piece of him

user4 It’s gonna be me ♪

→ user5 no way

yourusername Nobody missing out on shit 💀

lando I’d roast you but my mom said not to burn trash

→ yourusername CORNBALL!

ー→ user6 can you guys stop flirting

ーー→ yourusername Alright fun’s ruined

user6 never bought a shirt so fast

lnfour 🔥 make sure to wear your sweatshirt when watching the race 👀

user7 A hit as always

𐙚

𐙚

𐙚

yourusername

🎵 Doja Cat • Ain’t Shit

liked by lando, friend1, friend2, mclaren, and 12.3K others

yourusername This is your sign to break up with your toxic boyfriend #freedom

view all comments

user1 YESS

user2 ATE

lando You have access to McLaren passes and yet you picked FERRARI? 😤

yourusername I look better in red

→ lando I thought we were friends

user3 Men ain’t shit

user4 GOODBYE BUM

user5 Thank God

scuderiaferrari Our new biggest fan

yourusername OFC 💋

charles_leclerc Lovely meeting you

yourusername omfg.

→ user6 GIRL you won

→ lando 🧐

𐙚

lando

🎵 Frank Ocean • Pink + White

liked by yourusername, lnfour, mclaren, and 521K others

lando Merch drop 🔥

view all comments

user1 HE LOOKS… 😳

yourusername ok mog

lando 🤫🧏‍♂️

lnfour 🔥🔥🔥🔥

user2 is it hot in here? ����

yourusername No it’s just me

→ user3 Why are you always in his comments? It’s giving obsessed…

ー→ yourusername God forbid a girl have friends

user4 Y/N in their breakup era… Lando in his single era…

user5 Let’s not

→ user6 bffr they have so much chemistry, you’re just jealous

𐙚

𐙚

𐙚

Regardless of his forewarning, Lando’s sudden arrival at your house had taken you by surprise. He arrived with such haste, you had to giggle at the idea of the racer speeding across the city to get to you. The knock came roughly twenty minutes after your exchanged messages, and you knew without a shadow of a doubt that Lando was impatiently standing on the other side of that door.

You steadied your nerves before pulling the gold-plated handle down to open the grand wooden door. Lando’s eyes lit up upon the sight of you, and he quickly pulled you into his grasp. His muscular arms encircled your waist, tugging you taut to his chest as he spun you around in an elegant circle. With a rather loud smacking sound, he stole a kiss away from you.

“I’ve waited so long to do that,” He spoke with a cheesy, boyish grin. His curls framed his face, and his smile lit up his features perfectly. He was the definition of handsome. You giggled as you combed through his soft locks.

“Now you’ll never have to wait again.” You sealed your promise with yet another peck.

𐙚

lando

🎵 Billie Eilish • BIRDS OF A FEATHER

liked by yourusername, friend1, lnfour, and 212K others

lando This is your sign to date your best friend

tagged yourusername

view all comments

user1 I KNEW IT

user2 FINALLY

lnfour Favorite girl🔥

yourusername omg 😆🫣

lando Hey… Step back now

user3 AHHH CUTIES

oscarpiastri Congrats mate

friend1 Just know I was there first

lando Blah blah blah

→ friend1 🤨😤😠😡🤬

mclaren Time to ditch the Ferrari!

scuderiaferrari Hey wait a minute

yourusername I looove you 🤩

lando Thank God 🧡 Idk how I pulled you

→ yourusername By being a charming loser

[akabaka-dev]

Check out Autumn's phenomenal performance as Billie!

You have about 30 more minutes until you become one with the Black Woods.. or not. That’s Rhok’zan’s job.

Shout out to Akabaka for allowing me the pleasure of voicing Billie in this amazing game. I can’t wait for you all to see for yourself! Get your goat on. 🐐

[landoughnut]

Nurse He's Out Again

♡ masterlist - request

♡ pairing - lando norris x fem!reader (fc - brooke shields :)

♡ summary - just lando thirsting on the main and giving being a pr nightmare, also him fighting for his life in the comments

♡ warnings - horny/simp lando, crack, some fluff, some cursing, one kms mention

♡ w/c & a/n - smau | wanted to do a social media one cause i love reading them so much so here we are! i really love this actually so i hope you enjoy xoxo

landonorris FIRST liked by yourusername

landonorris holy shit baby 😍🥵

landonorris please date me fhsusnygds 😻💍

yourusername already am my love 💗

username WOWWW

kendalljenner stunning bestfriend 💋

yourusername love you 😘

username lando having her notifs on is so cute 🥹

username im in love with you.

landonorris NO I AM. STAY AWAY 😡

username LANDO LMAOAO

vogue 🤍 liked by yourusername

maxverstappen1 🔥📸

yourusername thanks max ☺️

maxverstappen1 someone tell me how lando's dating her

landonorris HEY 😟

charles_leclerc real max

yourusername the real question is how did i get so lucky with him!!

landonorris SHHH BABY NEVER SAY THAT 😣

adele my darling you look beautiful 🩷

yourusername i love youuu mother adele 💗

landonorris IM DATING AN ANGEL WOW PLEASE MARRY ME

yourusername i love you so much 😭

landonorris CBGHNCHD I LOVE YOU MOST BABY 🥰😍☺️

oscarpiastri lando fell to his knees in a walmart parking lot

landonorris can you blame me?? 🛐🛐🛐

username no we cant lando

landonorris it was a rhetorical question 👺

carlossainz55 my favorite model 🙏 liked by yourusername

username can lando fight?? 🥵🤤

landonorris YES GET AWAY SHOO 🤺

georgerussell63 bro can notttt fight

landonorris fuck you george

landonorris I CAN RUN YOU OVER INSTEAD

mclaren lando norris we're having a meeting this afternoon

mclaren looking absolutely stunning 🧡

yourusername love you admin 💋

landonorris FIRST liked by yourusername

landonorris DAMNNN BABY COME HOME AND KISS ME

username oh no..

landonorris ON MY NO NO SQUARE

oscarpiastri the second hand embarrassment i have rn

alexandrasaintmleux what 😟 yourusername ill save you bae

landonorris get me pregnant. 🫃

mclaren no we need you in racing conditions

landonorris you need me? that sounds familiar 😏🛌

maxverstappen1 MY EYES 🤢

mclaren REPLYING TO MYYYY COMMENT???

oscarpiastri ON MYY PHONE??

yourusername osc look away 😨

ladygaga so pretty 🤩 liked by yourusername

username 😻😍

landonorris get these heart eyes OUTTA HERE

yourusername BABY STOP HARASSING PEOPLE IN MY COMMENTS

landonorris "baby" 😍 anything for u wifey 🛐

billieeilish so fineee bby

landonorris SCRAM BILLIE

yourusername ILYY BILLIEEE 🤍

username lando is fighting for his LIFE 😭

username lando trying not to simp challenge level impossible

landonorris GUESS WHO SHE WAS SMILING AT YALLLLLLLL

yourusername i love you 💗 im always smiling with you 💖

landonorris I LOVE YOU SO MUCH BABY FUCKING HELL

username you guys are the cutest to exist

carlossainz55 yeah until you hear them talk about each other 25/8

landonorris shut up carlos your just jealous

georgerussell63 you're*

landonorris 🖕🖕

harrystyles gorgeous

landonorris bye.

landonorris i cant compete with harry 😨

landonorris GUYS DONT LET HER SEE THIS

charles_leclerc too late i just heard a scream from the living room where she is with alex

yourusername HARRY OH MY GOSH HELLO I LOVE YOU JEHXBUYTNEGBYGYGXE

landonorris im going to kms. someone pick my casket now. he broke my girl.

mclaren our favorite girl 🧡

yourusername FIRST liked by landonorris

username im obsessed with them being first for each other 🥹

yourusername LANDO PLEASE I CANT 😭

landonorris THE WORLD NEEDS TO SEE YOURE WITH MEE

charles_leclerc NAHHHH LANDO

oscarpiastri MY EYESS

yourusername IM SORRY OSC BBY

landonorris dont call him bby 😡 im your bby

username "tell your baby that im your baby" 🥺

username HELPPP bros fed up with the comments

username LANDO HAS A MOMMY KINK CONFIRMED 😋

mclaren you're done buddy. no more mr nice guy. meeting at 5pm.

username ignoring the caption but its so cute that the only thing he posts besides racing related pictures is her 🥹 my heart liked by landonorris

username she's so beautiful wow liked by landonorris

username her smile is the prettiest thing ive ever seen liked by landonorris

maxverstappen1 lando... what about us 😣

yourusername BACK AWAY FROM MY MAN 🗣️🤺

username how the tables have turned...

landonorris YEAH YOU TELL HIM BABY ‼️ THATS MY WIFEY 🗣️

username their matching profile pictures are adorable 🥹 liked by landonorris

alexandrasaintmleux SHE WAS MINE FIRST 👹

yourusername im still yours love 💗

landonorris thats not what you said in bed last night

alexandrasaintmleux NAHH UNDER MY COMMENT??

georgerussell63 lando mate enough is enough 😀

landonorris literally leave no one wants you here

mclaren you've taken at least ten years off my life

username SOMEONE SEDATE HIM✊

username someone needs to get neutered 🫵🏻

carlossainz55 NO MORE PLEASE I CANT TAKE IT ☹️

landonorris pov my wifey after round five last night

username FIVE????

alex_albon NASTYY YALL FREAKYYY

mclaren why do I even try 😞

lewishamilton NURSE HES OUT AGAINNNNN 😦

[cami040405]

Just saw that one gif of the couple in a haunted house where the guy pushes the girl in front of the “killer” and runs away, so said killer gives the girl his knife and she chases after her man. Could you write a similar scenario. Whether the killer hands reader their weapon, reader asks for it or just takes it, I just think it’s kinda funny. Reader’s boyfriend shoves her in front of the killer and books it so reader ends up with the slasher’s weapon and goes after her boyfriend herself. I’d like Michael Myers and Jason Voorhees please but if you wanna add anyone I certainly won’t stop you.

Slashers' Reaction when they See the Reader being Offered as Bait by Her Own Boyfriend.

Summary: When your cowardly boyfriend shoves you into the path of infamous slashers to save himself, you don’t scream—you get even. Each killer watches you take their weapon and chase down your backstabbing boyfriend with rage, sarcasm and style. Turns out, the real horror isn’t the killer... it’s dating a man with no spine.

Includes: Michael Myers, Jason Voorhes, Bo Sinclair, Charles Lee Ray, Billy Loomis & Stu Macher

A/N: I found this request very interesting, I certainly wouldn't let it go if it were me. Thank you for sending the request, I loved writing it and imagining the scene.

Michael Myers

You should’ve known something was off the second your boyfriend suggested the two of you “go for a walk through Haddonfield” at night.

“It’s Halloween,” you said.

“Exactly,” he replied, smug. “Let’s live a little.”

So you ended up strolling near Lampkin Lane, where the houses were quiet, the wind was sharp, and something was watching you. You turn the corner near the old, abandoned Myers house—the one that’s still cordoned off with faded “No Trespassing” signs and urban legends as thick as fog. The porch creaks in the distance. Somewhere, a swing sways on rusted chains, though there’s no breeze.

Your boyfriend chuckles nervously beside you.

“This is kinda spooky, huh?”

“Yeah,” you mutter, eyeing the dark windows. “I told you this wasn’t a good idea.”

Suddenly, something shifts in the shadows. A figure steps into the orange glow of a flickering streetlamp at the end of the block.

Tall. Silent. White mask. Mechanic’s suit. Michael. Myers.

You freeze.

He’s far away—but not far enough.

Then your boyfriend, in a move so quick and selfish it would impress Olympic sprinters, screams like a banshee and SHOVES you toward the street—toward him.

“OH MY GOD! TAKE HER!” he shrieks. “TAKE HER, NOT ME!”

You stumble into the road, landing on your hands and knees.

“Are you KIDDING ME?!” you shout, spinning around to watch him full-on sprint in the opposite direction.

You can’t believe it. Your boyfriend just offered you to Michael freaking Myers like a sacrifice in sneakers.

You turn back.

Michael is still there. Watching. Still as a statue. His head tilts.

You meet his dark, unreadable eyes behind the mask.

“…I’m not with him anymore,” you mutter.

He slowly approaches. No words. Just the rhythmic sound of his boots crunching on leaves. He stops in front of you, towering and ominous, the chef’s knife in his gloved hand glinting under the moonlight.

You brace for the worst.

Then… Michael raises the knife—slowly—and flips it.

He holds it out to you. Handle first.

You blink. “Wait—are you… giving this to me?”

The silence is deafening.

You glance over your shoulder. You can still hear your ex-boyfriend screaming in the distance, fumbling with a chain-link fence and tripping like he’s in a bad horror movie.

You look back at Michael. His hand doesn’t waver.

“…Hell yes,” you mutter, and take the knife.

You get up. Your shoulders square. You’re no longer the girl who got shoved into danger.

You’re the danger.

“Thanks, Mikey,” you say, not expecting a response. But you swear—swear—his head tilts just a bit more. Like amusement. Then you take off, knife in hand, stalking your way through Haddonfield.

“HEY, JAMES!” you yell into the night. “I’M GONNA CARVE OUT THE WORD ‘COWARD’ ON YOUR BACK!”

From down the road, your ex screams. “WHY ARE YOU SIDING WITH THE KILLER?!”

You shout, “BECAUSE THE KILLER HAS MORE INTEGRITY THAN YOU!”

Michael watches from the shadows, the slightest movement betraying what might almost be a nod of approval.

For tonight, Haddonfield’s boogeyman takes a break.

You’ve got vengeance covered.

.

Jason Voorhees

You weren’t thrilled about this trip to Camp Crystal Lake in the first place. Your boyfriend had sold it as a “fun, spooky weekend getaway”—just you two, nature, and some “light ghost hunting” for his vlog.

You hadn’t signed up to get eaten alive by mosquitoes, much less the thought of possibly running into Jason freaking Voorhees. Still, you tried to enjoy it. The lake was beautiful in that eerie, mist-covered way. You even held his hand while walking the trails after sundown, lantern swinging in your grip, nerves humming with unease.

That’s when you heard it—a twig snapping, somewhere off the trail.

Your boyfriend froze, eyes wide. “D-did you hear that?”

You sighed, half-annoyed. “It’s probably a deer or—”

Crunch.

Another step. Heavy. Deliberate. Slow.

You both turned.

And there he was.

Jason Voorhees.

Towering. Silent. Mask glinting pale in the moonlight. A blood-stained machete gripped in his hand like an extension of his soul. You took a shocked step back. You weren’t even sure if you screamed. But your boyfriend?

He screamed louder than you’ve ever heard a grown man scream. Full panic mode. Then, without warning—

HE SHOVES YOU FORWARD.

“TAKE HER!” he shrieks, dead serious, and takes off running like a cartoon character on fast-forward.

You stumble, barely catching yourself before hitting the forest floor. Heart racing, hands trembling—you look up, expecting death.

Jason hasn’t moved.

He just stares at you. 

You look back in the direction your boyfriend fled, the underbrush still shaking from his cowardice.

Then you turn back to Jason. And it clicks.

“...Did he seriously throw me to you like I’m a Scooby-Doo extra?”

Jason doesn’t answer. Of course he doesn’t. But somehow, you know he gets it. The way his mask tilts slightly, just enough to read like confusion and maybe even a little pity—it’s almost comical.

You wipe some dirt off your pants. “You know what? Screw it. You’re not the scariest guy out here tonight.”

Jason just stands there. Then, slowly, he flips the machete in his hand and holds it out to you.

Handle first. No sound. No words. Just… an offer.

You stare at it.

Then, slowly, grin.

“Oh... Oh, you’re my new best friend.”

You take it. It’s heavy—really heavy—but you’re running on pure adrenaline and RAGE now.

“Thank you, Mr. Voorhees,” you say, sincerely. “I’ll bring it back with blood on it.”

You spin around and stalk into the woods, machete dragging across the dirt, screaming your boyfriend’s name into the trees:

“YOU THREW ME TO JASON VORHEES, YOU SPINELESS TOAD?! YOU’D BETTER HOPE HE KILLS YOU FIRST!”

Somewhere in the distance, you hear a terrified voice yell, “OH GOD SHE HAS A MACHETE—JASON, STOP HER!”

Jason doesn’t move. He watches you vanish into the trees, his massive shoulders rising and falling once with what might—might—have been the ghost of a laugh.

He doesn’t need to lift a finger tonight.

You’ve got it covered.

.

Bo Sinclair

Ambrose wasn’t even supposed to be on the way. You’d both taken the detour after your boyfriend swore up and down it would be a "fun, spooky, abandoned town Instagram thing." Classic him. Anything for the views, right?

But now?

You’re standing in the middle of Main Street—surrounded by wax figures, everything dead silent—and you’re glaring at your boyfriend, who’s just realized the garage isn’t as empty as it looks.

Bo Sinclair steps out of the shadows, wiping his hands with a rag, eyes landing on you both like a lion sighting fresh meat.

"Well, well," he says, slow Southern drawl curling around his smirk. "Y’all lost or just dumb?"

You don’t even get a chance to answer.

Your boyfriend screams—like, actual scream—and grabs you by the shoulders.

“TAKE HER!” he shouts, shoving you toward Bo with both hands. You stumble, trip, and land at Bo’s feet.

Then the bastard runs. Full sprint. Down the road. No looking back.

You lie there for a second, stunned, blinking up at the sky.

Bo just blinks down at you, his expression blank for a beat.

Then his lips twitch.

Then he bursts out laughing.

“Oh, goddamn," he wheezes, clutching his stomach. "You see that? He tossed you like a sack o' potatoes!”

“Yeah,” you mutter, standing up and brushing off your clothes. “Believe me, I felt it.”

Bo whistles, still grinning. “Girl, he didn’t just throw you under the bus, he started the engine and reversed over you twice.”

You’re still glaring after your fleeing boyfriend’s back. The rage is setting in. Humiliation burning behind your eyes.

“Unbelievable,” you mutter. “He really left me to die.”

Bo wipes his eyes, watching you with interest now. “So what’re you gonna do, sweetheart? Scream? Cry? Run after ‘im?”

You inhale sharply, glance over at the tool bench behind Bo… and then look at the wrench in his hand. Your eyes narrow. Bo watches you eye it. Then, with the ease of someone offering a gift, he flips it around and holds it out handle-first.

“Tell ya what," he says with a grin. "You wanna clock him one? I won’t stop ya. Hell, I’ll even give you a five-minute head start before I come collect what’s left.”

You take the wrench.

It's heavy. Cold. Satisfying.

You grin wickedly. “I’m not gonna kill him.”

Bo lifts a brow. “No?”

“Just gonna remind him that if he’s gonna throw me to the wolves, he better hope they’re hungrier than I am.”

Bo gives a low whistle, clearly impressed. “Damn, girl.”

You start marching in the direction your boyfriend ran, full murder in your stride.

As you pass a wax figure of a man mid-scream, you mutter, “Better start running faster, Jason. I’ve got a wrench and no sense of mercy right now.”

Bo watches you go, still smiling, his arms folded.

“Gotta admit,” he says under his breath, “I kinda wanna see how that turns out.”

.

Charles Lee Ray (Chucky)

“Babe, this is not funny anymore,” you hiss, clutching your coat tighter against the biting wind. “We were supposed to be in Little Italy. Where the hell are we?”

Your boyfriend glances over his shoulder, jumping at every shadow. “It’s fine, it’s fine,” he mutters. “Let’s just keep walking. There’s gotta be a main street nearby.”

A garbage can rattles.

You both freeze.

Then comes the sound of tiny footsteps… fast. Too fast.

And then you see it.

A doll. A little red-haired Good Guy doll. Just standing at the end of the alley.

“What the f—” you begin.

And then it moves. Fast, like a blur, and suddenly that high-pitched, gravelly voice cuts through the silence.

“Hi, I’m Chucky. Wanna die?”

The doll leaps toward you both.

Your boyfriend screams like a child at Chuck E. Cheese and, without a moment’s hesitation, grabs you by the arm and throws you in front of him like a ragdoll.

“TAKE HER!” he yells, already bolting down the alley like his soul’s on fire.

You land hard on your hip, scraping your palm against the concrete. “You son of a—!”

Chucky skids to a stop, blinking down at you as you sit there on the ground, stunned and seething.

“…Damn,” Chucky mutters, cocking his plastic head. “That guy really tossed you like yesterday’s trash. That’s cold.”

You slowly push yourself up, wiping blood off your palm. “You think?”

Chucky shrugs, then straightens up, switching the bloody knife in his tiny hand to a reverse grip. “Normally, this is the part where I stab you and laugh about it, but…”

He glances down the alley, where your boyfriend’s distant scream echoes into the night. “I think I just found someone I’d rather gut.”

You raise an eyebrow. “You don’t say.”

There’s a pause. Then you step forward.

“…Let me see that.”

Chucky eyes you. “You wanna borrow my knife?”

“I insist.”

He grins wide, teeth sharp behind the plastic sheen of his face. “You’ve got style, sweetheart.”

He hands it over, hilt first. You feel the weight of it—smaller than you expected, but razor sharp and warm. You give it a test twirl, then glance down the alley where your dear boyfriend disappeared.

You take a deep breath, grit your teeth, and start walking.

“YOU CHOSE ME TO DIE, YOU LITTLE COWARD?” you bellow into the dark. “YOU USED ME AS A HUMAN SHIELD FOR A DOLL?!”

You break into a sprint, blade gleaming.

Behind you, Chucky watches with absolute delight.

“Y’know,” he says to no one in particular, lighting a cigarette, “I think I’m in love.”

Then he casually strolls after you, whistling.

.

Billy Loomis (Ghostface)

The old Macher house had been abandoned since Stu's party. Of course it had—the murders, the blood, the urban legends whispered through Woodsboro’s halls made sure of that. But your boyfriend had dared you to break in with him anyway.

"It’s just an old house," he said. "Nothing’s gonna happen."

You should’ve known something was off the moment the door creaked open by itself.

You wandered the trashed kitchen, cobwebs stringing across cabinets like decaying tinsel. Somewhere down the hallway, something thumped. You froze. He grabbed your arm.

Then the phone rang.

Not a cell phone. A landline. On the counter. Plugged into nothing.

You blinked. Your boyfriend picked it up, smirking like a frat boy on Halloween.

“Hello?” A pause. Then a voice, low, amused, just slightly familiar.

“Do you like scary movies?”

His face went white. “Wh—What? Who is this?”

Your stomach dropped.

“Nope,” he said, slamming the receiver down. “Nope nope nope nope—”

But it was too late. From the hallway, Ghostface stepped out.

Not a replica. Not a costume.

The Ghostface.

He held the knife low, that signature gliding gait stalking slowly forward.

Your boyfriend’s survival instincts kicked in—and unfortunately for you, those instincts said sacrifice your girlfriend.

“TAKE HER!” he shrieked, physically shoving you forward into Ghostface’s path, then booking it full-speed out the back door, limbs flailing like a Scooby-Doo reject.

You hit the ground with a grunt. Time froze. The killer stared down at you. His knife gleamed. But then—he tilted his head, like you were more interesting than expected.

The mask came off.

You gasped.

“Billy?”

Billy Loomis smirked down at you, all smugness and shadowed cheekbones.

"Hi, sweetheart."

You scrambled to your feet. “Are you KIDDING ME?!”

He nodded toward the door your boyfriend had just sprinted through like the coward he was.

“He really just did that,” Billy mused. “Didn’t even hesitate. Just… ‘here, kill my girlfriend, I gotta run.’” He mimicked your boyfriend’s scream with a chuckle. “Classic.”

You glared, chest heaving. “I’m going to kill him.”

Billy raised a brow. “You sure you need me to do it?”

There was a pause. A tense, burning one.

Then you lifted your hand, palm open.

Billy blinked.

“…Can I borrow the knife?”

Billy looked down at the weapon in his hand. Then at you. Then back to the hallway.

“You know what?” he said, almost tenderly. “You’ve earned this.”

He flipped the knife and offered it to you, handle-first. Your fingers curled around it. It was still warm from his grip.

“Thanks,” you growled, eyes blazing. “I’ll bring it back with blood.”

“You better,” he replied, stepping back and watching like a proud director. “Make it messy.”

You threw open the back door and stormed into the night, yelling after your now-regretful boyfriend:

“YOU LEFT ME TO DIE, YOU CHEAP-SHOE-WEARING, NO-LOYALTY-HAVING DOLLAR STORE SCREAM QUEEN!”

Somewhere in the trees, your boyfriend screamed again.

Billy leaned against the doorframe, folding his arms as he watched the carnage unfold in the distance.

He gave a small, satisfied smile.

“Damn,” he murmured. “I think I’m in love.”

.

Stu Macher (Ghostface)

It was supposed to be a fun night.

The local horror maze downtown had been canceled last minute, so your boyfriend had the brilliant idea to “break into the old abandoned farmhouse on the edge of Woodsboro,” which in hindsight was like asking to die in the first ten minutes of a horror movie.

“C’mon, babe,” he’d said, “It’s totally safe. We’ll be in and out. No psycho killers, promise.”

You’d rolled your eyes but agreed—because hey, what could go wrong?

The house creaked like it wanted to collapse on you. Dust curled off the stairs. Every door groaned like a warning. You were maybe two steps inside when a TV flickered to life in the corner of the room, showing a grainy VHS of old horror movie clips—then cut suddenly to live footage of you two standing right there in the house.

“What the hell—” you whispered.

That's when you heard it. The low, distorted voice from behind:

“Wanna play a game?”

You turned just in time to see Ghostface—tall, lanky, and looming—emerge from the hallway with a gleaming knife in hand.

And your boyfriend?

Your loving, caring, chivalrous boyfriend?

He screamed at a pitch only dogs could hear, shoved you toward the killer like a sandbag, and ran.

Not a glance back. Not a “run!” Just: “YOU’RE ON YOUR OWN, BABE!”

You hit the floor hard, wind knocked out of you, staring after him.

Ghostface froze. There was a pause… and then a very familiar wheezy laugh behind the mask.

“Oh my god,” the killer wheezed, pulling the mask off with a flourish. “Did that dude just yeet you at me?!”

You blinked.

“Stu?!”

“Sup!” he said, waving with the knife still in hand. “Didn’t know it was you, swear. Thought I was doing the old ‘boo and stab’ tonight. But wow, your man just offered you up like a Happy Meal.”

You sat up, groaning. “He shoved me so hard I almost blacked out.”

Stu held his stomach, doubled over in laughter. “I can’t—I can’t breathe—he was like ‘TAKE HER, OH MIGHTY KNIFE DEMON, SHE’S THE SACRIFICE.’”

You rubbed your temple. “I should stab him.”

He froze, then lit up. “Wait. Wait. You should! Here—” he spun the knife in his hand and offered it, handle-first. “Go get him, tiger.”

You hesitated.

Stu leaned in, grinning. “You know you want to.”

“…You know what? Screw it.”

You snatched the knife, stood, and dusted yourself off.

“I’m gonna murder him. With my words. Maybe the knife. TBD.”

Stu made an exaggerated swoon motion. “Oh my god. You’re so hot right now.”

You stormed out the front door with purpose, knife in hand. “I SEE YOU HIDING BEHIND THE TRASHCAN, JEREMY! DON’T THINK I WON’T DUMP YOU WITH A KNIFE IN MY HAND!”

From behind, Stu followed casually with the Ghostface mask hanging off one hand and a big grin on his face.

“If you stab him, I’m definitely taking you to prom.”

.

[darkmatilda]

𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫 | 𝐬.𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: you’re starting to suspect that, to spencer, you’re nothing more than a form of comfort—a bandage for a lingering wound, a way to cope with the ghost of the girl who came before you.

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬/𝐭𝐰: spencer reid x female!reader, spencer is not over maeve but starts a new relationship, alex blake's first appearance in my fics, reader is kinda a people pleaser who takes the blame for everything and it hurts me so much that i just want to hug her and tell her she deserves the whole world...

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 3.5k

𝐚/𝐧: this fic was written for @mggslover celebrate her 1k followers event <333 it took me a while, but belated congratulations—you fully deserve it! love you, girl!

wildflower

billie eilish ♥︎

⇄ ◁◁ 𝚰𝚰 ▷▷ ↻

01:05 ━━━━●─────────────── 04:21

but i see her in the back of my mind. all the time.

"Snow?" You slowed your pace, lifting your head in surprise.

Above you stretched a starless night sky, with the moon faintly emerging from between the clouds. The falling flakes were small and sparse, drifting toward you in a lazy, graceful descent, only to vanish almost instantly upon landing on your clothes or the ground.

You glanced to the side at Spencer. Your…well, probably boyfriend. You had only started seeing each other recently, but ever since he appeared in your life, you knew there was something special about him—something you wanted to keep close. What began as casual meetups had gradually turned into hours of rhythmic conversations, your first honest confessions, and real dates. Wonderful dates.

You were walking to the restaurant on foot, and you liked the way your arms remained intertwined as you moved side by side, step for step. You had often seen older couples walking like this—it carried a certain elegance, and to you, it had always felt like something deeply tender and full of care.

Matching your pace to another’s, making sure they were right beside you, never falling behind by even an inch. Sharing your warmth, reminding them of your presence and your feelings, even when you were both lost in silence, unable to express it with words.

"I admit, it's unusual for this time of year," Spencer replied after a moment, raising his hand as a snowflake landed on his skin—only to melt instantly. It vanished.

It was only then that you realized you had interrupted him mid-sentence earlier. He had been talking about…With a hint of embarrassment, you realized you couldn’t remember. At some point, the conversation had taken an unexpected turn and drifted into territories you weren’t entirely familiar with. Not only did you lack a degree in that field, but it simply wasn’t something you had a particular passion or deep interest in.

From the moment you met him, you knew he was a man of knowledge, and it hadn’t taken long to realize that in his voice, everything sounded at least three times more interesting than it should have. Plus, he had a sexy voice.

So listening to what sometimes felt like full-blown monologues was nothing short of a pleasure. Even if, at times, you didn’t fully grasp the bigger picture. You wondered whether you should apologize and ask him to repeat what he had said, but by then, you had already reached the entrance of the restaurant—a small, cozy place within walking distance from your apartment.

Its windows, framed in black, were made of slightly amber-tinted glass, softening the light that spilled inside, making it warmer, easier on the eyes, and undeniably soothing.

“Spencer?”

A voice called out behind you just as you were about to step inside—before you even had the chance to open the door.

Both of you turned toward the pair standing nearby—a man and a woman with brown hair, the hem of a blue dress peeking out from beneath her coat. She was just tucking her car keys into her purse, though her sharp eyes didn’t leave your faces for even a second. Then, as if realizing herself, she blinked and quickly summoned a smile.

“Running into a coworker on my first day off in ages—what are the odds, right?” she said lightly.

You glanced at Spencer out of the corner of your eye, wondering if he saw this coincidence as a good thing. He always said the team was like family to him, but you were still holding onto his arm, and you could feel the subtle tension in his posture. His expression shifted into something unreadable—strange, almost.

But then, he quickly composed himself, introducing you to Alex, as it turned out, and then introducing Alex and her silent husband to you.

"Nice to meet you," she said as you shook her hand.

She seemed friendly, but either some previously unknown paranoia had just kicked in, or she was studying you a little too closely. Especially after Spencer hesitated slightly before using the word girlfriend to introduce you.

"Sorry," she murmured suddenly, shaking her head slightly. "I just had no idea Spencer was seeing someone. And I definitely didn’t expect to run into a familiar face at our favorite restaurant," she added, glancing at her husband, who confirmed her words with a small nod.

"Well, it’s slowly becoming our favorite too," you joked. She was just surprised to see you, nothing more. You tried not to show any reaction to the fact that Spencer had apparently never mentioned you before. You kept your smile in place, reminding yourself that it wasn’t a big deal. Because it wasn’t, right? He didn’t have to report his love life to everyone around him. "They have the best ravioli here. Have you tried it?"

"Hm, you know, I don’t think we have? But if you recommend it, maybe I should…"

The conversation continued for a little while—just casual, friendly small talk. Spencer barely participated, only forcing a polite smile when necessary or nodding with a slight delay. Out of the corner of your eye, you caught the way he briefly pressed a hand to his furrowed forehead for just a fleeting moment.

It started to worry you. You wished Alex a pleasant evening, and on your way to the table, your thoughts revolved around how to bring up the topic. You sat across from each other at a round table, the waiter took your orders, and only then did he manage to speak.

"Is everything okay, Spencer? You suddenly went quiet," you observed gently. "Or maybe that small talk outside just drained you. They tend to do that, true. Not like our conversation about CRISPR," you added with a smile, only now remembering what topic you'd interrupted him on earlier when it started snowing.

Spencer slowly returned your smile, shaking his head in an almost apologetic manner.

"Sorry. Alex really caught me off guard, that's all," he explained, focusing his gaze on you—but not on your face—before widening his smile even more. "You look beautiful."

The sweetness in his voice as he said it made the previous topic vanish into the depths of your attention.

"You told me that before we left," you teased. "I'm starting to suspect you’ve been lying to me this whole time about your eidetic memory. Could that be true, Dr. Reid?"

"Maybe," he admitted with a small shrug. "Or maybe some facts just deserve to be repeated. After all, we choose what we believe."

You let out a short laugh.

"You’d probably prefer if I blindly believed the second version. Fine, I’ll do it—but just know, I’m keeping a close eye on you, okay?" you warned, pointing a finger at him. He raised his hands as if washing them of all accusations.

You smiled again, but behind it still lingered the interrupted topic. You swallowed.

"Alex seems really nice. You’ve told me a little about them, so I thought you might have told them about me too."

You said it before you could stop yourself. You saw the expression that crossed his face—surprise that you had addressed the issue so directly, mixed with a deeply buried nervousness at having to explain.

"I..." he began, drawing in a breath. "You know, I just prefer to wait with things like this. They’re my friends, but I keep a lot to myself. That’s just…that’s just how I am. I didn’t think it would hurt you..."

"It didn’t," you cut in quickly. A wave of discomfort washed over you for even bringing it up. Spencer was right—that was just the way he was, and you didn’t want to criticize the way he navigated relationships. Besides, it really wasn’t a big deal. You didn’t want to ruin the evening over something like this. You really didn’t."Seriously, it’s not like that. I was just curious. They know about me, but I don’t expect you to tell everyone about us. They’re your friends, and you should tell them when you feel like it."

"Your opinion matters here too," he pointed out, a faint crease appearing on his forehead. "Did you…did you tell your friends you were seeing someone?"

You pursed your lips, pretending to think it over. The real answer was pretty much everyone. But you knew that if you said that outright, he’d feel awkward about it, so you held back.

"I might have mentioned something…but I was waiting for things to be clear between us first. Also, that was the first time you called me your girlfriend."

"Was that okay?"

"I hope so. I mean…was it okay for you?"

For a moment, you both fell silent before bursting into laughter at the sheer absurdity of the conversation. This was exactly what you needed—to wrap yourselves back up in the lightheartedness the evening called for. The occasion. The date. 

You let out a quiet breath of relief, inwardly pleased with how the evening was unfolding. Conversation flowed as easily as ever—teasing remarks, grins smudged with amusement, and chaotic little anecdotes filling the space between you. Then your meals arrived.

You both followed a natural path in your discussion, one that inevitably led back to the topic that had dissolved along with the snowflake on Spencer’s hand. Genetics. And the longer he spoke, the harder it became to pretend you actually understood what he was saying.

Because this wasn’t like summarizing the history of Henry VIII’s wives—an engaging tidbit that could be followed with interest, even without prior knowledge. No, this felt more like jumping back into a conversation that had been paused, except you were the wrong person to be continuing it.

You shifted in your seat, uneasy.

You had never found yourself in a situation like this before, and you weren’t sure how to handle it. There was also a strange, nagging feeling—like this wasn’t the first time it had happened. Had Spencer done this before, and you’d just never noticed because you hadn’t been listening closely enough?

You knew you should address it, but it took you so long to work up the nerve that, by the time you finally spoke, he had already been talking for several more minutes without your active participation. The fork in your hand suddenly felt heavier as you took a deep breath.

“Spencer,” you forced yourself to interrupt.

He stopped immediately. Then, as he took in the worried expression on your face, his lips parted slightly in surprise. You could tell he was already wondering whether he’d said something wrong.

You tried to keep your tone light. “Why…why are we talking about this, exactly? I mean, it’s not that it isn’t interesting, but I’ve never had anything to do with genetics. I can’t really keep up with this conversation.” He stayed silent as you let everything spill out, and you instantly felt like it was somehow your fault. The urge to apologize nearly overwhelmed you. “Sorry. You know…never mind. I must have just not been paying enough attention….”

Spencer froze in place, his gaze fixed on the table in front of him for a moment. There was a fleeting devastation in his expression. Emptiness didn’t just appear in his eyes—it spilled out, breaking through like lava erupting from a torn surface in disaster films.

But suddenly, he looked into your eyes, and in an instant, it was gone.

It had only managed to tighten your stomach.

"You're right," he admitted, nodding with guilt. "Sorry, I just..."

And then he trailed off, gazing at you with a kind of helplessness. Slowly, you set your fork down.

"Restroom. I'll be right back," you excused yourself gently, offering a soft smile as a quiet reassurance that everything was okay.

Bitterly, you called yourself an immature runaway in your mind. You didn’t understand why you couldn’t stop yourself from bringing up these topics, from manifesting your discomfort during moments like this. You knew how to ruin an evening—you did it almost habitually, as if it were your job.

You could have just let him talk. He was happy; you could have let him stay that way.

You always cared deeply about the people around you. But when it came to Spencer, it was different. In some special way. Because even though you hadn’t been together for long, you were beginning to fall for him, and his worries were slowly becoming your own. He didn’t talk much about it, but he had told you about his previous girlfriend. About grief, about feeling lost. You knew his job affected him, too.

Very, very rarely did he allow himself to have moments of weakness around you. At least, you hoped they were just moments. You prayed they were only fleeting, not something permanently etched into his face or clawing relentlessly at the inside of the mask he wore every day.

That was when his gaze would slip away in that same distant way. When he would sink into himself, only to snap back to order. He never spoke about it out loud. You wished he would, but maybe it was too soon between you to ask for that. You didn’t want to scare him off. You didn’t want to lose him.

You pressed your hands against the sink. They trembled.

You promised yourself that you would go back with a smile on your face and make this evening the best one you had shared in a long time.

That was when you felt someone watching you.

Alex stepped into the restroom, but she didn’t look like she intended to use it.

You forced a smile onto your lips, though it took effort. You turned to the sink and started washing your hands, pretending nothing weighed on you.

"Can we talk?" Alex asked. Her arms were crossed, and she spoke softly, delicately—like she didn’t want to scare you off. That tone reminded you of a teacher talking to a preschooler, and you disliked it immediately.

"Sure," you replied. Despite your best efforts, you sounded dry. "About what?"

She sighed. You didn’t look at her in the mirror. You didn’t meet her gaze.

"Do you know why I was so surprised to see you with Spencer?"

"Because he never mentioned me before?"

"Because it’s been so little time," she said, ignoring your response.

At last, you turned to face her, forgetting to dry your hands. Something inside you already sensed where this conversation was heading, and you didn’t like it.

Alex’s eyes widened.

"He…he didn’t tell you…?"

"About his ex-girlfriend?" you cut in. "That she died? He told me, of course, he told me. We’re together. I just don’t understand why you’re bringing this up now."

She tilted her head to the side with a solemn expression.

"Because I don’t think enough time has passed for him to be dating someone new."

Her words hit like a slap, and you immediately took a defensive stance.

"Good thing it’s not up to you to decide what Spencer should or shouldn’t do," you stated, no longer hiding your sharpness. "Grief is a personal matter."

"That’s true," she admitted patiently, inclining her head. "It’s a very personal matter. Everyone experiences it differently. But it’s only been two months since Maeve’s death. And forgive me for saying this—it might sound harsh. You seem like a wonderful person, and Spencer is my friend. I really don’t want to hurt either of you. But he hasn’t moved on. I can tell because I see him every day. You need to be aware of how this looks from the outside. Like he’s seeking comfort..."

"I won’t have that," you cut her off, your voice trembling.

Your head buzzed. You didn’t want to take her words to heart, didn’t want to believe her. She didn’t know what she was talking about—she knew nothing about your relationship with Spencer.

For the first time, you heard her name. Maeve.

He had never said it. He always just called her girlfriend.

He had also never told you when it happened. You had assumed it was much longer than two months ago. Especially since…

“How long have you been seeing each other?” Alex asked, undeterred by your tone.

The worst part was that she genuinely seemed concerned about you. At least, that’s what her expression suggested. You would have preferred pity over sympathy. You would have preferred if she was just trying to sabotage you. Then you could have ignored her.

You met Spencer a month ago.

You turned your back to her so she wouldn’t see the look on your face.

She saw it anyway. The mirror was right in front of you.She stepped forward, reaching out as if to place a hand on your shoulder, but you moved away. She nodded in understanding.

“I’m sorry you had to find out this way,” she said. “But I couldn’t forgive myself if I didn’t tell you. You have the right to know. I’d prefer…I’d prefer if you didn’t mention this conversation to Spencer.”

You just wanted her to leave.

But she stubbornly waited for a response.

Eventually, you nodded.

Once she was gone, you dropped your head over the sink.

You needed a long moment to untie the knot that had formed in your stomach as a result of that interaction. Her words kept coming back, and they hurt. They came back and hurt, over and over, knocking on the door and then running away like kids playing a game to annoy the neighbors. Your eyes burned with tears of disbelief, but you quickly pushed them away. You didn’t want Spencer to notice anything.

You started rationalizing it all.

Yes, you had only been together for a short time, but you had never questioned his intentions toward you. He had never lied to you, never deliberately hurt you. Besides, he was a smart man, and you couldn’t believe that someone like him would toy with another person’s feelings—his partner’s—just to make himself feel better. He wouldn’t use you as a temporary bandage for his pain. That wasn’t his style, and the argument about his recent grief didn’t convince you.

Yes, it was soon.

But as you had said yourself, it was personal matter. 

You almost felt foolish for letting Alex’s words—those of a woman you had only just met—affect you so deeply. You smoothed your hair, steadied your breathing, and smiled at your reflection. That was how you intended to return to the table—composed, ready to immerse yourself in conversation, to lift both your spirits, to let him talk about anything he wanted as a form of atonement for your doubts.

And that’s exactly what you did.

You listened to him from beneath lifted lashes, delighting in the happy spark in his eyes, even though the meaning of his words barely registered. The knot in your stomach had dissolved, and you could eat again, savor the meal, the evening, his presence. Nothing could change that.

So even when, caught up in conversation, he mentioned a phone call you didn’t remember ever having, you just let it slide.

*

You couldn’t remember the last time you had woken up next to each other.

You lived separately, and in the end, you both worked so much that the opportunity rarely presented itself. The rest of the evening had been absolutely wonderful, and when you opened your eyes, your first fleeting thought was that the morning would unfold in the same warm atmosphere.

But then you quickly realized it was far too early to be waking up.

The room was still cloaked in darkness, broken only by the faint outline of your tangled bodies and the soft glow of white sheets.

You hadn’t woken up together.

You had woken up alone—or rather, you had been woken up by his sudden movement, the sharp inhale of breath.

Still drowsy and dazed, you propped yourself up on your elbow, trying to get a better look at Spencer. His hair was tousled, his eyes squeezed shut far too tightly for someone in peaceful sleep. He mumbled something under his breath before jolting again, this time murmuring something almost pleadingly.

That’s when you realized—he was having a nightmare.

You felt a pang in your chest, a rush of compassion filling you. His face looked so defenseless against whatever haunted him—even in sleep. This was the first time you had witnessed something like this in your relationship, so you hesitated for a moment before deciding on your next move.

Gently, you wove your fingers through his hair, stroking it soothingly. Then, you pressed yourself closer to his side, wrapping your arms around him as much as you could, whispering quiet reassurances.

At first, he didn’t move. You thought the nightmare had passed, and you remained still, wondering if it had been your doing. Not that it mattered. What mattered was that he was okay now.

Still caught in sleep, Spencer turned toward you, burying his face against your neck. His breathing started to even out, the steady warmth of it tickling your skin. You couldn't help but smile softly.

He mumbled something you couldn’t quite understand.

Was he still dreaming?

“I love you.”

You finally made out the muffled words, and they caught you completely off guard. You had never said it to each other before—you thought it was too soon. You thought those words needed the right moment, something special. But as you lay there, wrapped up in the quiet of the night, you realized this was the perfect moment. Just the two of you, small in the arms of the darkness, so drowsy you were forced into honesty.

I love you too.

You were just about to say it when Spencer spoke again—just a little faster, just a little softer.

And what he said was like a quick, unexpected stab. You didn’t feel the pain yet, but you could already see yourself bleeding.

“I love you, Maeve.”

[wandasaura]

ALL BORN SUPERSTARS

summary — you don’t always have the luxury of choosing who you love in life, and your boys are leaning that through your prime example

warning(s)— established relationships, slight au themes, lesbians, dom-ish!wanda maximoff, discussions of homophobia, premature coming out, parenting moments, domestic fluff, typical third-grade boy behavior, kitchen sex, fingering, praise kink, sweet talk, pet names, nipple stimulation, orgasms, finger sucking, pride flags, school holiday cards, inner child healing moments, family dynamics, billy and tommy maximoff, men/minors dni

authors note— oh mom wanda, you have my entire heart. pride fic pride fic pride fic. enjoy !

“Billy! The bus is not going to wait for you again!” Your voice carries up the stairs of your two-story house that had once felt so lavish and grand beneath your fingertips, but with two growing boys slowly taking up more and more space that you don’t seem to have, the interior is beginning to feel suffocating even on the days where Wanda managed to keep the living room intact until after school.

Tommy swings his feet at the island, taking another bite of the waffle Wanda had lathered in with nutella as he listens to your call for his twin who hasn’t marched down the stairs yet despite you going in to wake them up an hour ago. You’d heard him get out of bed and pad across the hallway with his typical excitement and restless energy, you’d even heard the shower start without having to remind him that he’d opted out of one last night, but he’d never come back downstairs, and it never sounded like he padded back to his room either.

“What’s he doing up there?” Wanda asks Tommy, laughing softly beneath her breath as she watches you shake your head in exasperation, calling Billy’s name again with no answer.

Tommy shrugs his shoulders, ripping off another hunk of waffle with his teeth. Wanda had placed a fork and a knife right beside him, but he’d yet to pick either up, his fingers coated in this hazelnut spread and crumbs. “I dunno. He brought Mama’s nail polish in there with him.”

“Why did he need my nail polish?” Your eyebrows furrow, drawing inward as you catch your title falling off of Tommy’s lips, his mouth still full of waffles and making it challenging to piece together the broken English he mutters haphazardly.

“I dunno.” Tommy shrugs, rolling his eyes as he reaches for the glass of milk that you’d poured on request. It was always a gamble of whether they were going to want orange juice or milk, and if they both happened to want different things, it was the question of who wanted what. Very rarely could they do anything the same way to make yours and Wanda’s lives easier, and very rarely could they keep their individual interests separate from each other without eventually adopting the others preference. Tommy had once been your orange juice loving boy, always begging to make it himself with the ones he picks from Agatha’s tree, but in the last three weeks he’s consumed more milk than you can afford in this economy. Billy’s been your one on an orange juice kick, downing at least two glasses in the morning before he climbs on the bus. ”It’s pride today, right?” He perks up, suddenly remembering the date as his eyes glance at the calendar Wanda keeps on the back door.

You have a soccer game on Saturday and two baseball games on Sunday, and your following week is littered with practices for both sports and their yearly orthodontist appointment, but his eyes find something smaller, a little pink heart on the left hand side of the 28th both, a day the symbolizes the official start of yours and Wanda’s relationship ten years ago.

“Well, it’s pride for the whole month. It just starts today.” You mused, remembering the list of June’s activities that had been sent home with the boys last week. Rainbows had been splashed across the news letter, a bit on the nose, but it comforted you to know your boys were being raised in an inclusive environment when they weren’t just with you.

”Is Agatha going to have that big float at the parade again?” Tommy asks, recalling last years pride parade that ended with Agatha Vidal standing in the center of her own twelve-foot float. It was extravagant, out of budget, and entirely reflective of her own personal interests rather than the communities, but Tommy and Billy had both been talking about it nonstop since.

A burp bubbled up from his belly, and both you and Wanda sent him deadpanned stares, wondering how he’d adopted such boyish qualities being raised in a house with two lesbians. He laughed brightly, only shoveling another bite of waffle into his mouth instead of excusing himself like he knew you and Wanda wanted.

You didn’t have time to dwell on Tommy’s mannerisms because Billy came padding down the stairs finally, his hair wet and hanging over his eyes, his outfit no different than what he normally wears on a daily basis. You can’t figure out what had kept him up there for so long until you notice the splotches of multi-colored paint of his fingernails, each one a different shade taken directly from the rainbow.

“I’m bisexual.” He smiled proudly up at you, and Wanda froze behind the island, her eyes wide as she looked at him with shock making up her expression. Your open jaw slackened before you regain your composure, nodding slowly as you took in the serious gleam in Billy’s eyes.

“Do you know what that means?” You ask him simply, n leaning against the island as you smack Tommy’s thigh, warning him to get back to eating instead of staring at his brother like he’s an alien on earth.

“Yeah. It means I like boys and girls. Rio told me that.” He rolled his eyes like that was the obvious answer, and you licked your lips as it washed over you. Have kids, they said. It’ll be fun, they said. Nobody warned you about elementary schoolers coming out at seven in the morning before you had them though.

“I— Okay.” You nodded, because you knew for sure and well that his definition of ‘like’ meant that he’d be willing to play Fortnite with them if Wanda permitted the extra screen time. “And why did Rio tell you that?”

”Because he was listening to her conversation with Agatha yesterday!” Tommy blurted and Billy whined, throwing a death glare at his brother who shamelessly ratted him out. “Agatha was telling Rio that she’s bisexual because they were trying to pick shirts for the parade. Can we get shirts?”

“I…” You glanced back at Wanda, entirely speechless that you were having this conversation so early in the morning or at all. “Yes, we can have matching shirts this year. Billy, being bisexual means more than just wanting to be friends with boys and girls.”

“Oh.” Billy frowned, and Wanda laughed softly, shaking her head as she plated up another waffle spread with a layer of nutella, but Billy’s had peanut butter lathered on top too. “Okay.” He shrugged, and while it bothered you that he hadn’t even given you a chance to explain any further, you weren’t complaining about evading this conversation for another couple of years.

“Are you sure you want to go to school with your nails painted?” Wanda asked him softly when she lured him over to the table, setting a glass of orange juice down on the counter without asking if that’s even what he wanted. You’d run out of time for personal and preferences ten minutes ago.

“Yeah. It’s pride.” Billy nodded simply, taking the waffle between his fingers and biting into it the same messy way that Tommy did, ignoring the silverware that Wanda inevitably wasted time setting out.

She’s still in her pajamas, still sporting only the thin pink shorts and white t-shirt she’d been wearing last night. Her nipples harden though the thin fabric, a detail so minuscule you don’t even think she recognizes it as she moves through the kitchen, zipping lunch boxes, folding homework, getting water bottles in order, all while balancing a conversation with your nine-year-old who doesn’t look at all interested.

“I know it's pride, honey, but Mama can’t pick you up from school early today. So, if somebody says something mean about your nail polish, you’re going to have to deal with it.” It sounds harsh, and it hurts your heart to hear it, but neither one of you are prepared to send Billy into a battlefield blind even if Westviews the most accepting town you’d resided in. There are still horrors out on the street that hate the very existence of your boys just because they have two Moms. You’re not ready to hand them over to that evil yet. To let them find out fully how hated you are just because you were lucky enough to find genuine love in Wanda’s company.

“Why would they say something mean?” Tommy butts in, his eyes furrowed together in confusion you wish you had longer to protect fully.

“Well, people are mean about all kinds of things sometimes. Some point think only girls can paint their nails, and some people think only boys can wear blue or play fortnite. Not everything is going to think it’s cool that Billy painted his nails.”

“I don’t care.” Billy shrugged, ripping off another mouthful of waffle that he immediately chased with a gulp of orange juice. At nine-years-old, neither of the boys have learned how to eat breakfast at a normal enough pace to avoid backwash in their drinks, and nine years into parenting later it still unsettles you just as much as it did in the first year of their lives.

“I’ll protect him if anyone says anything mean! Aunt Yelena taught me how to make a really good fist!” Tommy bubbles, recalling the last time Yelena and Natasha had made a trip out from Manhattan to come and see the boys on Halloween.

“You don’t punch anyone unless they punch you first.” Wanda warns, and you laugh at her acceptance of violence if it’s warranted. You didn’t have to wonder how she’d gotten to be so hard hearted at times, you knew the sob story of her life and the blood that stains her hands even if none of the deaths that haunt her were her fault, but it still amazes you how somebody so gentle and soft can be an absolute reckoning.

“Oh! The bus is here!” Billy gasps when he hears the ties screech outside, jumping off of the stool after he shoved the last bit of waffle into his mouth. He didn’t even glance down at his nails in a moment of hesitation before he grabbed his prepped backpack off the table and booked it around to counter to hug Wanda’s waist and then yours.

Tommy was next, following Billy out of the house with an enthusiastic, “Bye Mommy! Bye Mama!’

The second they were gone, the front door closed, the bus pulling away and out of sight once the doors were closed and both boys were sitting down in a seat, you inched toward Wanda, wrapping your arms around her waist and squeezing tight as you sank into her.

“I hope he has a good day.” You voice your worry into the pit of her neck, your words vibrating her skin that’s still flush and warm from the hours of uninterrupted sleep she’d gotten beneath your head and body weight.

“We can’t shield them forever, detka.” Wanda reminds you painfully, her eyes filled with delicate conflation that fills your heart with the same emotional pause. These are your babies, your precious boys. It pains you to know that just loving them paints a target on their backs. A million steps forward in society and still not enough to recognize you and Wanda as equals anywhere you stepped.

“They’re still so little.” You whisper, wondering where your babies had gone, even though they were still just little boys in this big world. They still slept in beds with race car sheets, they still requested bedtime stories and new light bulbs in their respective nightlights. They were still yours to protect, not feed to the wolves and the cold blooded haters in the world on a silver platter. “I can call off my meeting. Get some chores done around here, make sure he doesn’t need someone to pick him up.”

“You’re not rescheduling again. The first time was because Tommy had the flu, and then Billy had pink eye, and then they both had bronchitis. This meeting will never get finished if you keep pushing it off. And if he really needs us, I can move my session with Mrs. Hart to tomorrow. Okay?” Wanda asked, but when you didn’t answer, your thoughts stuck on Billy getting cornered by someone bigger than him, Wanda grabbed at your chin, guiding your attention back to her. “Okay?”

“Okay.” You whispered, getting lost in her endless green eyes. She smiled wickedly, her pink lips curving upwards into a cunning grin as she analyzed your features that were slowly turning dark with lust as she pulled your thoughts away from the kids and onto her and only her.

“You’ve been undressing me all morning.” She notes, letting you know that your ogling hadn’t been as discreet as you’d initially thought. Your eyes flickered down to her nipples at the reminder of their pebbled state, your fingers latching onto them tantalizingly as you pinched and pulled. Wanda gasped, her head thrown back as the sensations of pleasure took her by surprise. “I thought that’s what got you going.” She hummed, drawing a finalized conclusion now that your touch was clawing at her through the fabric of her t-shirt. ”Was last night not enough for you? You were asleep before I even came out of the bathroom.”

“Because somebody pulled four orgasms out of me before they even took the strap out.” You rebutted, defending yourself against her even though it was futile. Wanda grinned at the memory of last night, keeping you quiet with only her fingers and her mouth when they weren’t ravishing your core. The boys were down the hall, both soundly asleep, unaware of how you chose to ring in pride with your wife, and the horror of waking them up kept you quiet in the moments that nothing filled your mouth.

“Are you complaining?” She sings, trailing her fingers down your arms, curling them into the hem of your top. She lets the fabric lift just slightly, her fingertips ghosting over your skin as she presses you against the island countertop.

”Never.” You grinned, looping your arms around her neck and pulling her into a passionate kiss that conveys all of the emotions you’ll never be able to name. Wanda groans when your teeth sink into her bottom lip, pulling it away before you let it pop with a grin. ”I have twenty minutes before I need to get in the shower.” You breathe against her lips, and Wanda needs no further invitation to feel you against her fingers before you have to comply with the day's set schedule.

“I only need ten.” She mutters cockily, tapping your thigh with three fingers until you widen your stance, spinning around until your belly is facing the brunt of the pressure from the edge of the counter digging into soft skin. You don’t have to ask how Wanda wants you, after so many years of spontaneous sex anywhere but your bedroom, you just know how she likes your body positioned for specific encounters. “Fuck, you’re so wet already.” She gasps when her fingers probe the hem of your panties and sleep shorts, the loose material allowing her fingers access without much hassle or maneuvering. The restriction of the fabric against your clit is intoxicating, but it gets even better when she shifts her fingers and lets two digits rub circles around your clit.

“Well when you look at me like that wearing that…” You trail off, your voice high and light as her fingers spark pleasure, wetness dripping from your hole as you clench around nothing, begging for something more that she’s not ready to give you yet.

Wanda bubbles with laughter, because if you were thinking clearly, you’d remember that Billy had gifted her these pajamas for Mother’s day, and the image of his excited face would ruin the mood instantly. “Okay, detka.” She concedes, pressing a kiss into the back of your neck before she eases a finger into your tight walls and then another. She doesn’t push three, doesn’t even seem like she wants to go that hard right now, she just wants to connect with you in a way she’s legally allowed to, something she still can’t do in Sokovia. “You take me so well.”

You groan, dropping your forehead to rest on your forearms on the counter as she works your walls open, her knuckles curling until she’s pressing into that spot inside of you that makes you head spin and your pulse quicken. “Fuck, Wands. Right there.”

“Good girl.” Wanda praises, and that only further does your head in, a pathetic whimper crawling up your throat as your fingers claw at the countertops, trying to find something to brace yourself on as pleasure comes crashing over you before you can warn her. The sensitivity of last night wrecks you in tandem with her gentle thrusts to ease you through the aftermath of your climax, and you scramble to push her hand away when it becomes too much, your chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. ”Clean them.” She demands softly, spinning you around and feeding you her fingers with a pleased smile on her lips.

When she’s satisfied, pulling her digits away, she grins, glancing at the clock on the wall. “Three minutes to spare. Sit down and have a waffle.” She demands and you can only oblige with the request, never dreaming of going against her simple wishes when complying gets you exactly where you are now.

There wasn’t any need to panic about Billy, because when he’d stumbled home from school, half of the nail polish already chipping off and clinging to his sweatshirt, he beamed brightly and told you that Jack thought his nails were cool, and that he was going to ask his sister to paint his red the next time she pulled all her bottle of varnish out. Wanda had grinned and embraced him tightly, glad to see that her warning had been for nothing rather than a necessary preparation.

“Oh! And we made you these at recess. There’s bees on the playground so we stayed inside.” Billy bubbled, pulling out of Wanda’s embrace to dig through his backpack. Tommy grinned with him, following his lead as he unzipped the Mario bag he’d insisted on getting and pulled out a folded piece of green construction paper. Billy’s was blue, and he handed it to Wanda with a proud smile while Tommy handed you his.

‘Happy Pride’ was written in the worst chicken starch handwritten you’d seen, but it warms your heart to see his little writing all scratched out in crayon in front of a picture of four stick figures and a purple heart. Wanda’s red head was colored with marker, twirling strands of red lines forming her wonky circle head. The detail to the green of her eyes stuck with you, and you turned a smile on Tommy as you wrestled him into your embrace, tickling his ribs and kissing all over his face until he huffed and shoved you away.

“Thank you, buddy.” Wanda smiled at Billy, holding a hand out for your card without a word. She put them on the fridge with two Mickey shaped magnets, and Billy and Tommy high-fived with pride as they analyzed their work. “Go get changed. We have time for grilled cheese before practice.” Wanda instructed, already falling into the standard after school routine.

You smiled at her from across the kitchen when the boys ran upstairs, their backpacks forgotten about on the floor. “How did we get so lucky?”

“A few thousand hundred thousand dollars and a good sperm donor?” Wanda teases, but you know she’s just as speechless as you when it comes to your boys and their lightness in your lives. “I love you.” You hum, still dressed in your work clothes, itching to be let out of your slacks and leather shoes.

“I love you.” Wanda hums back, pecking your lips before she taps your hip and points upstairs. “You too. Upstairs. Go get changed.” She commands and you laugh, stealing one last kiss before you turn on your heels.

“Yes ma’am.” You utter with a silly salute, wondering how you’d ever been lucky enough to find her and built this life from scratch at all.

[wonderjanga]

Are you… Romancing me?

No one can tell if Cap is coming onto them or not. It’s just that the guy is so nice that it’s kinda hard to tell.

Marvel: “I got you this flower reminded me of you.” *hands him glowing flower in a clear box*

GL: “Thank you…? Why is it in a box?”

Marvel: “Ah… it’s practically fused with Mercury, the element, not the god, I don’t think you wanna open that.”

GL: “Oh… okay. Cool.” *just staring at the flower* “What would happen if I touched it?”

Marvel: *shrugs* “You might shrivel up like a prune and immediately die.”

GL: “I see… I see… Would you report me for killing Sinestro if I threw this at him?”

Marvel: “No? But make sure not to touch it when you throw it at him, okay?”

GL: “Okay.”

or

Marvel: “Mr. Batman sir!”

Batman: “Yes, Captain?”

Marvel: “I was wondering if you wanted to go to this Grey Ghost movie rerun thing with me.” *holds out the tickets*

Batman: *remembers the various times he’s yapped to Marvel about Grey Ghost and how Marvel is the only one who understands what the hell he’s talking about* “Sure. Out of uniform?”

Marvel: “Nah, I’m not comfortable with it. I don’t think you would be either.”

That was true. Bruce would rather not show up as Bruce.

Batman: “Then disguises?”

Marvel: “Yup.”

That’s how Matches Malone and a random Hawaiian-print-dressed tourist pulled up to this thing.

Later, at the Batcave…

Alfred: “It’s quite early, Master Bruce. Were you out?”

Batman: “I went to a Grey Ghost rerun with Captain Marvel.”

Alfred: “Finally opening up to the prospect of romance?” *teasing*

Batman: *knows he’s teasing, but has to pause because surely it there wasn’t romance, right*

Right?

There was no way, right? Yes, Marvel invited him, but Bruce didn’t pick up any romantic intentions. Though, do you invite another man to a movie rerun just cause? The Captain didn’t seem that much into it despite knowing what Bruce talks about whenever he goes on a tangent about the franchise…

Batman: “Surely not.”

Alfred: “…You sound unsure.”

Batman: “I said surely not.”

Bruce was left internally panicking about whether or not that was actually a date. Bruce was praying it wasn’t, because that was actually a really enjoyable evening for him and he didn’t want the Captain get the wrong idea. Meanwhile, Billy was fast asleep, and his little tiny apartment, curled up under a ratty blanket, minding his business.

Billy was just trying to be nice. That goes for Hal too.

[greenwitchfromthewoods]

New Year's Night. l Joel Miller

Summary: not everything could be perfect

Warnings: fluff, some worries and concerns, they still don't tell others about the pregnancy, Joel is protective

A/N: what would life be without a little drama or angst?

your feedback is very important to me and I thank you for all the reblogs, comments and likes. 🖤 sorry for all the mistakes

short stories from life. [masterlist]

As you entered the building, you quickly took off your gloves and hat; it was much warmer inside. You listened for a moment, then went deeper, searching for the source of the noise. Even though it was incredibly cold outside, the renovations were still going on. Another house had to be made habitable as soon as possible, and Jackson was steadily growing. Even without patrols, Joel had his hands full, but he was doing what he was really good at, so it gave him satisfaction. Although he never hid it - a well-stocked DIY store in the area would be nice too.

You peeked into one of the rooms and saw his broad shoulders as he crouched in the kitchen under the sink, struggling with some pipe.

“Fuck…” he hissed under his breath, “Fuck the valve, I should have fucked this whole thing up and…”

“Am I bothering you?”

Joel turned around abruptly at the sound of your voice, and after a moment of surprise, a smile spread across his face. “You came to the rescue?” he asked.

“With coffee, if that helps,” you replied, showing him the thermos of the hot beverage.

He stood up and reached for a cloth to wipe his hands. “It’s bloody cold, you should be home,” he said.

You opened your jacket, showing him the thick woolen sweater you wore underneath. “I’m wrapped up warm, and the cold isn’t scary to us.”

Us. Joel smiled, looking at the place where your child grew up safe and sound. The days passed, and everything became more and more real.

He took the thermos from you and poured himself some steaming coffee. The warm drink warmed his insides pleasantly.

"So, have you thought about it yet?" you asked, walking around the kitchen and looking into the empty cabinets. "Are you going to the party tonight?"

“I could have guessed you didn’t come here without a reason,” Joel mumbled, taking another sip to hide the smile that appeared on his lips.

The New Year’s party was a long-awaited event in town. You’d mentioned it a few days earlier and made it clear that you wanted to go. But Joel loved to tease you. “We have a lot of work to do,” he said as he left the house, and you rolled your eyes.

“I could always go with Jesse,” you threw it out casually.

“And isn’t he dating Dina?”

“They broke up a few days ago.” You leaned against the locker and looked at Joel. You knew his game perfectly and you loved playing it anyway. He shook his head in disbelief.

“Okay, we can go.” He immediately noticed how wide your eyes were in delight. “But I’m only doing this because I feel sorry for Jesse.”

“Asshole.” You hissed.

Joel spread his arms in a gesture of helplessness at your words, but the corners of his mouth turned up. Suddenly, the front door slammed shut and the quick steps of heavy boots headed your way. A moment later, a teenage boy with a shock of red hair appeared in the doorway. He must not have been expecting you, because he nodded quickly.

“Hi, Billy.” You greeted him.

“Good morning, Mrs. Miller.” He replied in a slightly frightened voice, you blinked in surprise, but he was already turning to Joel. “Mr. Miller, we have a problem with the sewage outside. Mr. Johnson wants you to come.”

“Sure, I’m coming. Bloody sewage.”

Billy was clearly pleased, he nodded in your direction and practically ran out of the house, slamming the door behind him.

"Mrs. Miller?" you repeated, surprised.

Joel waved his hand and closed the thermos. "He's young, and his mother raised him really well."

"Yeah, I can see that." you replied, pulling your gloves out of your jacket pocket. "Maybe I should go to that party with him?"

Joel looked at you, then burst out laughing. "Zip yourself up properly before you go outside."

The room was full of people, and the music mixed with the hum of conversation. Everyone was in a good mood. Good food, beer, and pleasant company. That was a great way to spend the last evening of the year.

“I don’t think we’ll be here long. Elijah’s been restless since morning. I think his teeth are coming out.” Ann corrected her son, who was squirming in her arms.

“Really?” you let the boy squeeze your finger. “I’m glad you came at all. Joel must have taken a lot of persuading.”

“You know damn well he does it to annoy you. It’s just his nature.” She laughed. “I’m surprised you’re even here. Didn’t he want to wrap you in a blanket and hide you safely in the house?”

“He tried! But I ran away.”

You both laughed. Ann had kept her word and hadn’t told anyone except Shane about your different condition, because it was obvious. Shane didn’t seem particularly surprised, but he was glad you hadn’t insisted on more patrols. “Joel would have buried me in the foundation of the house if I had agreed,” he said.

Your condition wasn't visible to others yet, and the thick layers of clothing certainly helped. The second trimester was slowly approaching, and you welcomed each day with relief.

Something small unexpectedly bumped into you. A group of children were running around the room to the sound of music and carelessly bumping into people.

"Hey! Watch out, kids!"

Joel's voice caught the attention of the children and they all froze for a moment before politely walking over to their friends.

"They're just kids," you scolded him, barely holding back your laughter.

"I know. Are you okay?"

You nodded. If Joel had always kept an eye on you, of course for your safety, now he doubled his attention. It was understandable and although you sometimes pointed out to him that he was overreacting and that if he was in such a state now, what would happen when you were already in the sixth or eighth month, but you were always grateful for his support.

It wasn't like you didn't worry anymore. Your jokes were only meant to mask the fact that every day you were grateful that your condition wasn't changing, that nothing bad had happened to you. And Joel knew it well.

“If the world was normal, I probably wouldn’t be so scared for you. Now I have more and more grey hairs every day,” he said one morning.

“This is our new normal. And I think we’re doing really well here,” you replied, stroking his cheek. “I know you want us to be safe. And we are.”

The music changed and soon you felt Joel place his hand on your back. “Will you dance with me?”

You couldn’t refuse and soon Joel was pulling you onto the dance floor, where a few people were already there. A strong arm wrapped around your waist and pulled you closer to his solid body. He was a really good dancer, you had to admit that.

“So, what are your plans for next year?” you asked.

Joel cleared his throat and smiled. “You. And the little one. And Ellie, I promised to teach her how to play guitar, but we’re still bad at it.”

“I like those plans.” You replied, brushing your lips against his jaw. “Those are good plans.”

You danced in silence for a moment, but it didn't escape your notice that Joel was clearly worried about something. Even though he was smiling and being there with you, his thoughts were elsewhere.

"What's going on?" you asked as the music stopped.

He bowed his head, but then spoke again. "The last patrol found traces of a camp. Quite a large one."

"Are they refugees?"

Joel shook his head. He looked around the room and slowly led you to a place with fewer people. He took a deep breath. “Jesse and Shane noticed a large group of people. They’re riders or something. They’re hanging around.”

You frowned and crossed your arms over your chest. Suddenly, the charm of the party was gone. “Do you think we’re being threatened?”

He looked at you, thinking for a moment. “I don’t know…” He finally said, “I wish I could say no, but I can’t. We’re increasing patrols, we need to be more careful.”

“Okay. If there’s anything I can do to help…”

Joel tilted his head and looked at you with a mixture of fondness and concern. “Stay out of this, honey.” He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear and smiled. “We could use your help, but you’ve got the most important cargo inside you right now. Okay?”

You nodded, allowing him to wrap his arm around you and kiss your temple.

☆☆☆☆

Thank you for your time.

taglist, i think: @picketniffler @orcasoul @bbyanarchist @o-sacra-virgo-laudes-tibi @somedayheaven @underneath-the-sky-again @callmebyyournick-name @hiroikegawa @mandaloriankait @mmmunson

[wroetolando]

𝚁𝚊𝚌𝚒𝚗𝚐-𝙸𝚗𝚜𝚙𝚒𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝙽𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚗𝚊𝚖𝚎𝚜 | 𝙻𝙽𝟺

𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴: lando norris x fem!reader

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: the one where lando gives you endless racing-inspired nicknames, from DRS to soft tyres, but checkered flag is the one that truly makes your heart race

𝗺𝘂𝘀𝗶𝗰: happier than ever - billie eilish

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: none!

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・

You should’ve known better than to date a Formula 1 driver and expect a normal relationship.

But normal had never really been Lando’s thing, and honestly, you wouldn’t want it any other way.

It started as a joke. The first time he called you Speedy, you were running late for a dinner reservation in Monaco. You had just finished getting ready when Lando, already leaning against the doorframe in his usual hoodie and joggers, tapped at his watch with exaggerated impatience.

“Oi, Speedy, hurry up! You walk like you’re on a cooldown lap.”

You rolled your eyes and shoved his shoulder on the way out, but he only laughed, slipping his fingers between yours as he pulled you down the steps.

That was months ago, and somehow, it had only gotten worse.

It didn’t matter where you were—at home, at a race weekend, FaceTiming while he was away for back-to-back Grands Prix—Lando had an endless supply of racing-inspired nicknames for you.

Some were sweet, some were ridiculous, and some made you question how his brain even worked.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・

DRS

“DRS, pass me the remote?”

You blinked at him from your spot on the couch, curled up in one of his oversized hoodies. Lando was sprawled beside you, legs stretched out, barely paying attention to the Netflix episode playing in the background.

“Did you just call me DRS?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

He smirked, reaching over to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “Mhm. You’re my DRS—always giving me that extra boost when I need it.”

“That’s awful.”

“But cute.”

“You’re lucky I love you,” you muttered, tossing the remote at him anyway.

The worst part? He actually started using it more. If he was tired before an early morning flight, he’d mumble a sleepy “Activate DRS and get me coffee, love?” If he was nervous before a race, he’d squeeze your hand and whisper, “Give me that DRS boost, babe.”

It was both infuriating and adorable.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・

Soft Tyres

The worst one, though, had to be Soft Tyres.

It had been a lazy Sunday morning, the kind where neither of you wanted to get out of bed. The sun was barely peeking through the curtains, casting a golden glow over the room. You had been arguing—halfheartedly—about who was going to get up and make tea, neither of you willing to leave the warmth of the blankets.

“Please,” you begged, nudging his leg. “You’re closer to the kitchen.”

“But you’re soft,” he mumbled into his pillow, his voice still thick with sleep. “Like soft tyres. Fast, but high maintenance.”

You gasped, smacking his arm. “Excuse me?”

“It’s true!” He grinned, finally opening one eye to look at you. “High maintenance, but worth every second.”

“You’re so lucky I don’t kick you out of this bed.”

“You won’t.” He shifted closer, arms wrapping around you as he buried his face into your neck. “You love me too much.”

And damn it, he was right.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・

Pole Position

Not all of his nicknames were ridiculous, though. Some were softer, spoken in moments when the world around you felt quiet.

Like Pole Position.

“You’ll always be my number one,” he had whispered one night, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your back. It had been a rare weekend off, just the two of you tangled in bed after a long day at the beach. The only sound was the ocean outside the open window and the steady rhythm of his breathing.

You had laughed at first, thinking he was joking. But when you looked up, he was watching you with that look—the one he only ever gave you, the one that made your chest feel too small for your heart.

“I mean it,” he murmured, brushing a kiss against your temple. “Always.”

You never made fun of that nickname.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・

Slipstream

Some of them were just Lando trying to be annoying.

Like Slipstream, which he only used when he was trying to weasel his way into getting what he wanted.

“Baby,” he would say, drawing out the word like it was some sort of negotiation tactic.

You wouldn’t even look up from your laptop. “No.”

“You don’t even know what I was going to say!”

You sighed, setting your work aside. “Fine. What?”

He grinned, moving to sit beside you, his arm draping lazily over your shoulders. “You should go make me a snack.”

You deadpanned. “Absolutely not.”

“C’mon, you’re my Slipstream,” he teased, nudging you with his shoulder. “Always pulling me closer. No resistance at all, love.”

You scoffed. “Lando, I swear to God—”

“—And you’re so fast at getting things! It’s like you’re on fresh mediums.”

“You’re on your own for food,” you huffed, standing up.

And just when you thought he’d finally given up—

“Wait,” he pouted. “Where are you going?”

“To take myself out of your DRS zone.”

That shut him up real quick.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・

Checkered Flag

The one that made your heart race the most came after his latest podium.

You were waiting for him in the McLaren hospitality suite, still buzzing with excitement when he walked in, sweaty, exhausted, but grinning like a kid on Christmas morning. Before you could say anything, he grabbed you, lifting you off the ground as he spun you in a circle.

“You, my love,” he said, voice breathless against your ear, “are my Checkered Flag.”

You pulled back just enough to meet his eyes, confused. “What do you mean?”

Lando smiled, softer this time. “Because no matter what, I’m always coming home to you.”

Your breath caught in your throat.

For a moment, all the noise faded—the celebrations outside, the distant roar of the crowd, the sound of champagne bottles popping open. None of it mattered.

It was just you and him.

And suddenly, every ridiculous nickname, every groan-worthy racing pun, every moment he had teased you about Slipstream or Soft Tyres—it was all worth it.

Because at the end of the day, Lando Norris loved you.

And that was the only title that really mattered.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・

masterlist

[cakypa120]

Danny didn't tell Dani that he was dating. Jazz told Dani who Danny was dating. Dani was upset with Danny for not telling her that he was dating Captain Marvel. So she came up with a little scam.

Dani: *flies into the meeting room* DAD! DAD!

Heroes: *watch in shock as the girl hugs Marvel, continuing to call for her dad*

Billy: *blue screen of death sound*

Dani: Daddy! Father won't let me go to Africa!! *starts crying loudly*

Marvel: *starts calming her down, although he doesn't understand what the hell she's saying* Hush, hush, I'll talk to him.

Dani: Really? *looks at Marvel with big puppy eyes*

Marvel: Really, really. *pats her on the head* I'll talk to him after the meeting. Come home, otherwise he'll worry.

(He's in a panic, he doesn't understand what he's saying, but the girl looks like his boyfriend. Danny said he had a clone. Billy will play as long as necessary)

Dani: But I want to stay with you. You come home so rarely because of work.

Marvel: Honey, you know it's not easy being a hero.

Dani (didn't expect Captain to play along): But you don't have time for me.

Marvel: I have all the time in the world for you.

Dani: *hugs Marvel* I love you daddy.

Marvel: I love you too, honey.

The League: *stands with their mouths wide open, staring at this picture*

Danny nearly has a heart attack when Dani and Billy tell him everything. Dani is grounded for a few days. Billy is terrified as his communicator is blowing up with emails and calls from his colleagues. Everyone wants to know more details. So Billy does what a normal person does. He goes on a two-week mission to another world, leaving Fawcett to protect Danny.

Flash: Who are you and where is Captain?

Danny: Marvel is in another world. He wrote to you.

Superman: You look a lot like that girl.

Danny: *sweats* Of course. That's how it should be.

GL: You're her father!!

Batman: What kind of creature are you? And how old are you?

Danny: I'm a ghost. I died when I was fourteen, but that was a long time ago! A long, long time ago! I just look like this.

Diana: How did you meet Marvel?

Danny: *keeps a straight face while screaming inside* You know, it just...happened? You know, like Penelope and Odysseus? Exactly the same! Yeah!

Batman: You're protecting the city instead of Marvel?

Danny: Yeah, and I'd be glad if you left. Magic City and all that crap. Fawcett still doesn't like me.

GL: The city is alive?

Danny: He's definitely more alive than me, so leave before he sets some magical parasites on you. Marvel won't be happy if he finds magical lice on you.

And eventually everyone comes to the conclusion that Marvel and Phantom are married.

Billy:*bursts into Danny's room* Why do they think we're married?!

Danny: How should I know?! They're your coworkers!!