#and sometimes i regret that i fucking hate this process

[not-poignant]

Hi Pia x

How fast could you finish a fic, from start to to finish, if you didn't work on anything else and had so other commitments and just didn't start posting until it was done? It took me over two years to finish my long fic whilst I was writing and posting it chapter by chapter. Then I joined a creative writing course and we were challenged to start and complete a full story within a certain amount of time. I didn't post while I wrote this time round and I finished the entire thing within three months which is wild to think about. I've just started posting the fic I wrote now and don't have to worry about future updates. Do you think you could write a full fic or most of a fic before posting it or is it something that doesn't interest or work for you?

Hi hi anon

Do you think you could write a full fic or most of a fic before posting it or is it something that doesn't interest or work for you?

I mean yes, because this is literally the process of novel writing and I've published two. They're in my pinned post!

But I hated doing it this way.

I know I can write an entire work before doing anything with it because I've done it before. But I hate doing it that way and honestly anon, if I enjoyed doing it this way I would not be giving y'all free original serials, I would've taken all of that directly into novels and I'd have around 30-40 (if I included my fanfic in that, it'd be up to about 60-70) published by now and there's a high chance I'd be way more successful financially than I am now and actually like...able to afford all of my bills.

But working this way - writing ongoing serials - suits my ADHD, and I really enjoy doing it this specific way, so I do. The day I start enjoying writing full works more than ongoing serials I will disappear into novel writing because with a backlist of the kind I could generate with my wordcount, I'd be like...

I'd be living a very different life.

And I cannot tell you how much I've resented/hated that I don't enjoy writing full works before putting them up / publishing, because I know that's the biggest barrier in the way of more tangible success as an author for me (not just financially, but also among my peers who just value books more than web serials).

But yeah, did it, didn't enjoy it, and haven't done it again since. Now what's more likely is that I will spin novels out of already published serials.

How fast could you finish a fic, from start to to finish, if you didn't work on anything else and had so other commitments and just didn't start posting until it was done?

Honestly it takes me a lot longer if I'm not putting it up.

So I know from experience (From the Darkness We Rise) that I can write a full ongoing serial without focusing on anything else in about 3~ months. I mean if we look at my monthly wordcount average, I write around 35-50k per month, sometimes up to 90k if I'm excited enough about a project or have an unusual amount of energy.

Longer serials take longer because they're, well.........longer. x.x

But if I'm not putting it up at the same time, and it's a long original story, it will sometimes take me several years. Don't underestimate the brutality of needing to manufacture dopamine with ADHD. This job is ADHD compatible in a way that novel writing isn't for me.

(That being said, I still wrote Blackwood and The Gentle Wolf pretty fast because they're short, and I was writing serials alongside and the dopamine helped carry me through. But imho, it's still a longer process and it's a lot less enjoyable. And the publishing process takes me way longer and I enjoy that a lot less too).

(Just because I can do something doesn't mean I want to, or that it's sustainable).

(I was completing novels by the age of 12, tbh. Completing stuff isn't the issue and never has been for me (behold the field of my finished once-WIPs), but how I release that stuff determines how much I enjoy writing).

I've just started posting the fic I wrote now and don't have to worry about future updates.

I don't have to worry about future updates either!

That's the thing when you've completed every serial you've started (barring two, which were deliberate choices) in a 10 year period, to the tune of 5.5 million words, is that you just stop worrying about future updates.

This is something I really don't have to worry about with anything, because I know that I'll complete my stories. Having that kind of faith in my own writing is fun.

There's upsides to having a story finished before posting it online, but I will say there are some cons too:

You can't live in the moment in the same way as your readers. When you're all experiencing the excitement of an unplanned story together, that's a feeling that, imho, is not topped by any other publishing feeling to date. It's enthusiastic, absorbing and awesome.

You can't pivot based off reader feedback. I don't let most reader feedback influence plot, but every now and then I get a level of feedback that lets me know to focus more or less on something in a very organic way. Characters like Mikkel would only have appeared in one chapter if it weren't for readers. I cannot tell you how many times readers have helped me go 'oh this character needs to be in this story more.' From The Raven Prince to Kadek, reader enthusiasm took a bit-part player and drew them more into the story. Hell, even Dr Gary would not have gotten chapters to himself with Efnisien in Falling Falling Stars without that reader feedback. You just can't pivot at all unless you're willing to do rewrites, and that doesn't seem as much fun to me.

Writing one's self out of cul de sacs with the pressure of a deadline is actually a lot of fun for me.

You actually can still write a few chapters ahead (which I do for many stories these days) while still not having the story finished. I'm about 2-8 chapters ahead on almost all of my stories depending on the story itself. I may be close to 10 ahead on Underline the Black.

Others I'm forgetting about. But I know I wanted to say something about length, and also about deep characterisation. No one will prompt deeper characterisation exercises than readers who ask questions you will never think to ask as you write something in an ongoing way.

(All of this is obviously dependent on actually getting feedback if you post a serial chapter by chapter and write it on the go. I am very lucky to get this kind of feedback by the best readers. Serial writing isn't fun at all if no one is interacting).

I make the choices I make anon not because I can't write in other ways, but because I don't enjoy it, and because I genuinely feel like writing this way makes me a better writer. I like the stress and the pressure of the job, and I enjoy it.

I'm glad you've found something that works for you, and it does mean that like, if you write enough novels (if that's a direction you want to go in) you're likely to end up way more successful than I ever will! And that's a great place to be. *high fives*

[marksbear2]

COOPER ‘THE GHOUL’ HOWARD X MALE READER

Headcanons!!

I really recommend watching fallout, I’ve been so in love with it and especially my man Cooper.

Warnings!! ⚠️ Some headcanons will include smut!! It’ll be a mix of fluff and smut!!! And some will before the nuke. Includes Gn, FTM of Afab reader, and male reader. ⚠️

— He has a hate and love relationship with you whenever you mock his accent. It really throws him off during a argument. It makes him lose his thought process.

— When your not doing it in a middle of a argument he finds it cute and attractive. He starts chuckling and smiling like some teenage girl.

— He threatens you sometimes saying he’ll tie you up and leave you for dead or raiders or scavengers to find and kill. 

— He’s been protective of you even before doomsday. He hates anyone even standing to close to you, or when you help survivors.

— Often puts his cowboy hat on you and tells you the ‘Cowboy hat rule’ and you fall for it every time

— You and him making out while his bounty is on the floor tied up. You and him disappearing off somewhere leaving the bounty just to come back with clothes a mess and wrinkly with either you or him with a limp or wiping the corners of yours mouths.

— Him manhandling and being rough with his bounties to show off to you and to get you jealous.

— He often called you inside his dressing room to make out one last time before he went out and got on camera or two have a quick fuck trying to stay quiet so no one hears.

— He kisses you during an argument to shut you up. 

— He really has a small temper and accidentally says something either hurtful or goes off on. He apologizes by going on his knees and taking your hands apologizing with his accent.

— When having sex and he gets all overstimulated he whines and his thick southern accent becomes all cracky and whining becoming completely pathetic.

— He loves it when you become out of no where dominant. 

— He secretly gets off to you just holding his lasso or any type of rope. He himself doesn’t know why it turns him on so much at the sight.

— When he’s being the dominant one he would humiliate you with his harsh and cold words forcing you to accept them and sometimes when he wants you to repeat them for him. Telling you what you are.

— Him finding a cowboy hat not exactly like his but it’s something as you two walk around in the wasteland in cool cowboy survivor like outfits.

— Really good with his fingers. 

— You probably found him first after the nuke and such looking at the damages to the his body and skin. You comforted him for years telling him that he’s still the handsome dashing movie star Cooper you first met.

— He really hates when you two have to spilt ways, even if it was for months or the smallest a day or hour. He really is attached to you and wants to be at your side every second wanting to make sure your okay. He wants to the one to protect you.

— Since you two are living in the apocalypse he rarely sees you completely lean. So the first time he saw you without dust, or blood or dust he fell in love with you all over again. Touching your body carefully and worshipping you and also like some damn dog rubbing his hard on against you.

NOW VAULTER AND TRANS (FTM) AND AFAB READER.

— If you were a vaultie he often called you it and makes fun of your outfit. He treats you exactly what he thinks of the vaulters. 

— He was the first person in years, ever since you got in the vault to have sex with. It was like losing your virginity all over again just to now some bounty hunter.

— Duding a argument he always has this one like that “Your a vaultie, you wouldn’t understand.” He knows it pisses you off but he doesn’t care especially during an argument but at the end of it he always feel regret.

— He lasso’s and drag you you around since your a vaultie and doesn’t trust you enough to be in the Outland by yourself.  He treats you like some newborn baby.

— The first time you two met you two were always going back and forth over and over to the point you got him so angry he shoved you down and forced you on your knees and fucked you right there in the outside in the middle of the open it wasn’t like anyone would see. But you were fresh out of the vault and hadn’t had sex in forever you had orgasm and orgasm he felt like the king of the world.

— He helps you with dysphoria by finding the most masculine clothes he finds off the people he kills and gives it to you as some sort of gift. 

— Doesn’t hesitate for a second and shot someone the moment they misgender you went off their tongue shooting them right in the chest then head.

— He would wrap your chest with bandages.

— Whenever your feeling down he would and very willing to eat you out whenever he can. He would bury his face in it licking and sucking your clit while he fingers you like his life dependent on it. He wouldn’t even care about his own pleasure and only focused on you. He calls your clit your cock and loves to suck it. 

— He loves seeing his cock move in and out of your pussy, he loves rubbing it against it. Always promises just to do the tip but ends up slipping it all inside. He fucks you while rubbing your clit and loves getting you all wet and excited to make you put your clothes back in.

— He would stay up all night comforting you whenever you have second thoughts about being a man.

THE END

[hotgirlssupportlando]

one day x lando norris pt 3

this is a part of my series following one day of every summer from 2016 onwards in y/n’s and landos lives, exploring their friendship and love for one another. ofc not a smooth ride with some angst and fights along the way. a friends to lovers, growing up together kind of thing. read first part here pairing: lando norris x fem!reader summary of this part: y/n having a hard time adjusting to life at uni so she turns to her friend lando for comfort warnings: none? a little sad wc: 1,1k a/n: sorry it has been a while since posting, i've been finishing my masters thesis and processing lando's first win!!! yayyy :) BUT i'm going to upload more frequently now x

late summer of 2018

y/n was on the verge of tears, breathing heavily to calm herself as the outgoing facetime call echoed in her university dorm room. she was sat on the floor of the dark room with her back uncomfortably leaning against her bed.

”please, please, pleease lando pick up” she whispered desperately, praying that he wasn’t too busy preparing for another upcoming f2 weekend. seconds felt like minutes when the only person she wanted to talk to didn’t pick up his phone. y/n sighed and was about to end the call when the  deafening silence suddenly was cut with a loud and excited ”hellooo my smart girl!!”. in about two nanoseconds y/n could see that lando was at the gym training with jon, immediately regretting that she called.

”oh i’m sorry i can call you later” y/n said trying to sound as happy as she could in the state that she was in. but lando knew her from inside and out so her act wasn’t very convincing.

”hey y/n, what’s going on? are you okay?” lando said after processing the sight.

”yeah no it’s nothing.. i can call you when you’re done training” y/n said as she faked another smile. 

”y/n seriously you have a nice smile but you can’t convince anyone with that, i can see from miles away that something’s wrong. and however i’m done with training so i’m all yours” lando said with a concerned voice as he walked over to a private part of the gym. 

”thanks lan.. I, I just-” y/n whispered, looking away from the boy up to the ceiling to prevent any tears from developing. ”I just don’t fit in here lan.. it’s not at all what i thought it would be”

”oh darling.. i’m sorry to hear that”

”i just don’t know what to do, i haven’t even got any friends lando! how pathetic is that?? i’m surrounded with geeks and people with zero social skills who all have found friends but not me? ugh i just hate this place, i hate all these people..” 

the girl in his phone who had tried her best to keep it together bursted out into tears. ”you know how much i wanted this! i’ve always imagined that the university would be my thing, where i would find my place and blossom. but tell me how can i do that when all i manage to do is sit alone in classes, sit alone and eat and then go to my dorm to - surprise - sit alone on my bed being depressed.”

”i’m so sorry y/n..”

”…AND as the icing of the cake, not a single on of my friends are even close to fucking edinburgh - couldn’t somebody have prevented me from coming here? why didn’t i just stay in london where everybody else is? nooo, i just had to be special.” y/n sobbed as tears streamed down her face. 

”i ju-, just miss everyone so much lando. i miss my friends. i miss my family. i miss you. i miss you for not being five minutes from my home. i miss our drives and talks and laughs lando. it feels like i haven’t seen you in forever”

”i know y/n i miss you too, it has been too long since i saw you in any other place than my phone”

y/n wiped away her tears ”yeah.. i’m sorry i know you’re busy with everything in f2, i don’t mean to blame you for this.. i just miss your stupid hugs so damn much sometimes” she said as a small smile cracked upon her lips. 

”heey i didn’t know my hugs were that badly ranked” lando giggled receiving a laugh from y/n too. 

”and y/n?”

”hm?” ”why haven’t you told me that edinburgh is in a different timezone than london?” he asked.

”what? it isn’t? who tricked you into that?” y/n answered confused.

lando laughed, ”y/n look around you, it’s so pitch black in that room i can barely see you! the only thing my screen is picking up is your bleached teeth”

”lol lando it’s called depression” y/n laughed ”i’m always in depression-timezone, always hauntingly black surroundings, nothing for cheerful and life-enjoying boys like you” she joked.

”no, no, no let’s not go back to you being sad again, i just managed to make you happy again!!” lando proclaimed. 

”whoops sorry” she smiled ”no but seriously thank you lando, i really needed this. someone to vent to. but now i really have to go, i’m getting late to my class, even though i’m pretty sure no one’s missing me”

”stop it y/n, you’re missed, if not by your lame classmates then by me and all your friends and family”

”thanks lando, that’s very sweet of you. bye now” y/n smiled, this time genuinely. 

”bye darling”

—

hours later that night y/n was, like every other night, sat on her bed watching friends for the millionth time. her newly made tea was way too hot to drink so she put the mug on her bedside table. as she was on her way to snuggle back under her sheets watching her series she heard a knock from her door. y/n froze. without moving too much and making any noise she looked at the clock on her wrist. 23:38. after watching way too many documentaries she automatically drew the conclusion that it with most certainty was a killer of some sort. with this in mind she quietly picked up the nearest item to defend herself with, a hot cup of tea. 

it knocked on the door again. but it wouldn’t be possible for anyone to enter the building without anybody noticing, right? y/n calmed down a little bit, taking her phone with her to be able to call for help if it was needed. slowly she walked to her door and opened it. the sight in front of her was beyond what she had imagined. it was lando. there he was standing in her corridor in the middle of the night with a bouquet of flowers in one hand and 12-pack of pepsi max in the other. the sight made her revisit the memory of them meeting two years ago when he, with the same smirk on his face and a similar bouquet of flowers in his hand, won a bet against her leading to their first kiss. y/n smiled when she noticed the pepsi in his other hand, as he since that day in 2016 always provided her with the drink as some sort of consolation prize for the lost bet.

”i heard you were in need of a stupid hug” lando smiled

—

taglist

@amberpanda99 @phantomxoxo @landossainz @chezmardybum @lan4cha16

[syrupfog]

Sanji who just wants a job as a sous chef but has yet to be hired, but has somehow managed to enter the world of being a private chef for extremely wealthy families. 

He hates them they remind him of childhood but he needs the cash. 

He starts working for Mihawk.

Mihawk who only eats odd, simple foods. Things that Sanji feels insulted to make. A LOT of toast with cream cheese and jam, honestly. 

Sanji’s bored out of his mind (he starts canning the fruit from Mihawk’s garden to pass the time)

Then one day, bursting through the front door come two people his own age, a woman with pink hair and a man with green, DEMANDING to know why Mihawk moved without TELLING THEM, HIS OWN CHILDREN

Sanji immediately pegs them for stuck up assholes. He’s grown to respect Mihawk, at least (he’s better than the Charlottes were). Spoiled rich adult kids who expect their lifestyles to be funded. Ugh. 

Mihawk blinks and says that he DID tell them.

There’s a lot more shouting as Sanji quietly pickles beets in the background. They come to some sort of truce around the idea that Zoro (the green haired one) lost his phone, and Perona (pink hair) blocked his number after Mihawk called at 2am about his yams.

They’re good yams, Sanji thinks. 

He also learns that they were on a “road trip of self discovery”. He’s not sure what that means. It sounds like rich kid speak for “spending spree”.

They integrate into the household though and, after being introduced to Sanji, Perona demands pink. Anything strawberry. 

Zoro says he’ll eat anything. Sanji doubts that. 

He tests it. 

He makes extravagant dishes. 

Zoro doesn’t seem to even notice, eating without complaint.

Honestly it’s good practice. He uses it as an excuse to get back into the hang of the fanciest things Zeff taught. 

But he still doesn’t like them. Rich assholes. Mihawk’s simple toasts get him a pass.

One thing about Zoro though is that he seems to spend all his time working out, so he comes looking for food at the ODDEST times. And SOMETIMES Sanji is ASLEEP. He’s got a room in the old servants’ quarters and Zoro will appear at any hour.

After the third time being awoken at 2am, Sanji snaps. 

“I’m preparing you a fucking shelf full of onigiri,” he says, pointing with a judgmental finger at Zoro’s chest. “That’s going to be your midnight snack from now on! Some of us need our beauty rest!”

Zoro blinks down at the finger. “Okay,” he says. “I mean. You clearly need it.” 

Sanji scoffs in outrage. He’s still half asleep. He aims a kick at Zoro’s head before he can process his one rule (“don’t hurt clients”). 

Zoro dodges. 

His face breaks out into a grin.

“Didn’t know you had it in you, Curls,” he says. 

Sanji stumbles. He regains his footing and stomps down the hall, face aflame. 

He makes thirty onigiri. 

Zoro eats seven. 

“There, that’ll last you three more nights,” Sanji says.

Zoro nods. “So what time do I wake you up to get you to fight me again?” 

Sanji splutters. “No!!” He shrieks. “It’s three in the morning! I know you’re a rich fuck with nothing to do but some of us have jobs! I’m on call 24/7 here!” 

…he regrets it as soon as he says it.

Expects to be fired on the spot. 

Zoro frowns. He crosses his arms. “Fine,” he says, tersely. “Go to bed.” 

Sanji… does. He avoids turning his back on Zoro as he leaves the room, a bad feeling churning in his gut.

When he makes breakfast the next morning, he’s expecting to be fired as soon as Mihawk arrives, but Mihawk mentions nothing. 

Neither do Perona or Zoro when they appear, hours later. 

Sanji feels like he’s walking on eggshells until Zoro appears in his kitchen in early afternoon.

“Hey,” says Zoro. “I talked to my dad.” 

Sanji hangs his head. “So I’m fired?” He asks, dread pooling in his stomach. 

“Fucking what? No, Jesus. I just said you should have a regular work shift. Only like, ten hours on call.” 

“So you docked my pay,” Sanji says flatly.

“Now you’re being an ass,” Zoro growls. “NO, you’re being paid the same, you’re just going to have time off when I can’t bug you. That cool?” 

Sanji frowns, suspicious. “What do you get out of it?” He asks. 

Crossing his arms, Zoro scoffs. “Not getting yelled at at 2am, mostly.”

“You could’ve just not woken me up,” Sanji says. 

“You make it real hard to be nice to you, Cook,” Zoro says, running a hand through his hair. “I know you don’t like me, but I was just trying to do something nice.” 

Sanji melts a little, but he’s not willing to give in entirely. “Well thanks,” he says. “For not firing me, too.” 

Zoro rolls his eyes. “We’ve all had shitty jobs where we want to yell at customers,” He says. 

“Now I KNOW you’re lying,” Sanji argues. “I know how rich you are. I know what Mihawk pays me.”

Zoro looks… funny at him. “Did he ever happen to mention that we’re adopted?” 

Sanji blinks. Thinks of Zeff. “Uh, no?” 

“Yeah,” Zoro says. “Fucking Daddy Warbucks situation. I was seventeen. Trust me, I know customer service. Had to work to eat.”

“Well that’s not fair,” Sanji says. “Now I feel like a fucking ass.” 

“You ARE a fucking ass,” Zoro says. “Want to fight when you’re off work? Officially your shift ends at 6 now.” 

“Dinner is for seven so that won’t work.” Sanji says. “Shut up I have a chef’s integrity.”

“You’re not turning down fighting me?” Zoro asks, sounding oddly hopeful. 

“You spend all day working out so it’ll be unfair,” Sanji says. “But sure, I’ll kick your ass. Winner chooses what filling goes in your onigiri.” 

“Spicy salmon,” Zoro says. 

“Pickled plums,” muses Sanji.

They do end up fighting after dinner, out in Mihawk’s fancy topiary garden (he maintains it himself). 

Bruised and panting, they end up making out behind the large rabbit-shaped tree. 

It becomes A Thing.

[spctrsgf]

cold wires

summary: you crashed in maldo kreis. and it’s cold.

word count: 752

warnings: language like once, i can't write blurbs

a/n: HELLOOOOOOO omg it feels so so nice to be back to writing after all this time !! thank u all for bearing with me as i went thru my slump :((( life has been a lot recently and im in over my head but ANYWAYS ofc i had to come back w shiny<333 will get on my requests asap too 🫡

“It's frigid on this damn planet.” 

Din lets out the smallest huff and your remark, so small that you wouldn't have heard it if it weren't for his modulator. He's to your left, working on another panel of the ship as you try to get the electricity up and running. 

It's been a good few hours since the Crest had crashed down into Maldo Kreis, and the ship had already gained a thin sheen of ice and touched freezing temperatures. Your companions were all dancing about, trying their best to help to no avail. 

“Less grumbling, more working.” His voice cuts through the crisp air like a sword, shaking you from your frozen thoughts and back to the problem at hand. The wires were all frosted as well, apparently, even though you had warmed them not long ago. You twist them in your fingertips again with a sigh, careful not to shock your fingers.

Bustling about, you and Din fall back into a serene sort of silence as both of you focus your attention on the work in front of you again. His presence makes it easier for you to do the said thing, getting the wires to where they needed to be in order to start up the engine again. 

“Good job.” Din nods his head at you in a sign of thanks and respect, noticing the lights flicker on. You beam, happy to have helped in some way. You both reenter the hull, content in your achievements and ready to start up the Crest again. The ice planet was– surprise surprise– not the most pleasant to spend one’s time. 

Aaaaaaaaaand your hands were still freezing.

You hated complaining, really. Din had been so generous as to take you under his protection, to let you tag along as he and the Child traveled to countless planets. He had opened up, even if only in the slightest, making you feel more at home in the tiny ship then anywhere else you had been previously. Because of this, you felt a little weird complaining much, as silly as that seems and as small as this issue was. 

But it was cold. And you couldn’t really feel your hands. Before you could think too much harder on it, the words roll off your tongue and tumble out of your mouth in a nearly pathetic grumble. “My hands are still fucking icebergs.” Your cheeks dust a shade pinker and your eyes drop down to your shoes as Din turns from his spot near his bed. 

It’s silent in the hunk of the ship. You don't dare to peek up at the beast of a man in front of you, regretting even saying the words that had just come out of your mouth. How could you even say that? After he had just spent the whole time next to you in the cold? How inconsiderate. The urge to apologize rushes up into your throat before you can process it, ejecting from your mouth in some wicked sort of word vomit. 

But, before you can even process that he’s moved at all, Din’s got your hands in his own, enveloped. The words of apology that were about to leave your mouth sputter and pop, dispersing into nothing more than a gasp of surprise. You forget he can move that fast sometimes. 

His hands are warm. Tucked beneath gloves, they must feel quite soft, you think. You wish you knew. Sighing, you let his hands warm your own. And it's comfortable, this moment. There was no awkwardness in the silence, in the proximity, in the way your breaths match to create a melody that adorns the warmth in your hands and your cheeks.

You muster enough courage to tilt your head up to meet the sharp line of his visor, since turned soft by the way his thumb rubs back and forth on the back of your hand, barely any movement at all. “Thank you.” You breathe out, earnest in the way the words dance out of your mouth. He only offers a small nod, surely adorned with one of his soft smiles you know hide underneath his beskar visor.

And that's when you hear the Kid’s giggle.

Your eyes widen, Din’s head ticks up. “We should probably go check that out,” You quip, turning away from your moment before a second thought can be formulated. “Make sure he’s okay.” Your companion nods, streaking ahead of you as you draw your gun.

Something tells you he won’t be.  

[goldsbitch]

That next Christmas flight

epilogue p.1 to That one Christmas flight

summary: Few months down the line, Y/N is getting onto the same Christmas flight as a completely changed girl.

warning: cheesy af, swear words I guess, cliche probably, typos most definitely

Another Christmas flight. Traditions linger long and strong no matter how much one tries to resist. It's been a year precisely since the last flight that had turned her life upside down and Y/N found herself standing at the same airport where she shared a first kiss with Lando. Except this time she was thrown off for a completely less glamorous reason, sitting all confused and looking at the cancelled note next to her flight number on the departure board. She was just one of the other anxious annoyed passangers, trying to figure out how to get to Japan on time. Her mom hated when people were late. And she was sure she'll find a way to blame it on her. Bad planning, she'd always say. Love comes in different flavors to anyone, Y/N sighed, looking forward to seeing her mom after so many months, which had brought a rollercoaster of unexpected emotions.

She has had the summer of her life, hard to imagine something topping this one. The ultimate love affair - exciting, sweet and eye opening. Made her question everything she thought about adult life. All those love song suddenly made sense. She understood why people do crazy things for love. There wasn't a cell in her body regretting getting her summer and early September got stolen by one guy. It would not have mattered if he was a server from a local café or a tattoo artist, he just happened to be one of the most famous racing drivers on the planet. She had followed him around his trips as long as her school schedule allowed, making new friends in the process and generally exploring a different way of life. Sometimes, she had to stop in order to take it all in, because his world shined just a little too bright. It took all of her free time to keep up. Once summer rolled to its very end, it started being harder for the pair. Coming back to the school environment was somewhat of a culture shock and suddenly her having her own life was making it harder to drop everything and meet him at yet another race track around the world. Their schedules seemed to be working against each other. Late night cuddles turned into late night / morning calls. Summer romance got a real hard test that October and was forced to mature real quick. And sadly, very few love affairs manage to survive this leap.

There are little things that people in love do for each other. One does not often realize that the other person had been doing these mundane gestures until they are out of sight. Lando would always put Y/N's airpods on the charger when they were together, because he knew that she would just never do that and then would complain about it endlessly. He was even looking forward to the annoyed text she'd send him two days after they parted, almost on the clock. Y/N never learned. Nor did she want to.

Y/N airpods were sitting in the pocket of her coat. Fully charged. Lando and Y/N had never spent more time together than this winter break. After few rough weeks, they got used to the changing tone of their relationship. She finally met his family and spent few very fun days at their house. Lando made fun of her afterwards, because she had been so nervous to fuck it up. He never doubted that she would do a good impression - he loved too much to think that.

Pair of hands hugged her from behind and the familiarity kicked in.

"Thought you got lost, honey," she greeted her boyfriend and potentially the love of her life (spoiler alert - yes, he really was).

"I actually kind of did, I'm sure there must be a bathroom closer that all the way back that hallway," he said, kissing her cheek softly. She was taking him home to Japan to get him introduced to her mom, which made him the proudest guy at that airport. He was worthy of getting introduced and to him, that was the biggest compliment one could give. It had been quite a hectic Christmas break for Lando so far, if he were to be honest, he was happy to get few hours alone with Y/N. On the outside, he was this cool racer chill dude. But he was also a sappy romantic, absolutely insisting on having them celebrate their anniversary on the same flight. Y/N grounded him, kept him at bay in the best way possible. He felt like the best version of himself. Which was also what he told her when they almost broke up over the phone one confusing November night. Their relationship was cut with difficult conversations and the need to untangle things, but it was strangely something Lando loved about their relationship. No stones left untouched, caring so much about each other that any shift in energy was a signal to the other party. Y/N taught him to notice things. He pushed her into making her feelings known.

"My love, our flight is cancelled for today," she said softly, not really knowing what to do. Lando usually had his travel booked by the team, so he was surprisingly not very skilled in booking things anymore. But he longed for any possibility to be the hero that saved the day, so he got to the counter and got them on tomorrow's flight, with an overnight at a hotel.

Y/N let out a sigh once he told her that there is currently no other option. She just wanted to be at her mom's place and show Lando off, like a proper proud girlfriend she was.

"I'm sorry, honey," he said, caressing her cheek. "I'll make sure you have an absolutely amazing evening with me, ok? Honestly, getting to spend an extra night with you alone is the best thing I could wish for." She looked at him and there was not a single cell in her body that would doubt what he was telling her. Even after months, every time Lando looked at her, her heart skipped a beat. Every time he embraced her, she completely melted. His skin still felt like the softest thing on this planet. His eyes were the bluest of green that had her mesmerised whenever he shared a glance at her. "There is nothing better I could wish for Christmas either," she said, kissing him softly. "Let's get to the hotel, give your mom a quick call, order a champagne and cuddle without letting anyone else know we're still in England," he whispered like a little devil on her shoulder.

"Hm, maybe we can cuddle like really fast," she insunuated, setting Lando's imagination on fire.

"I have many ideas, honey."

"Good, write them down."

"This will hardly ever skip my mind," Lando laughed lightly and the pair took off, with him having his shoulder around her, both of them hiding their faces under a cap. They soft launched their relationship in the middle of the summer, but there was still a cloud of mystery around Y/N, as she had made sure to set her socials on private. No more of a little secret hidden in a hotel room. Still, privacy was an important thing to the pair, that's why there was a whole fake social media trip happening for Lando right now to redirect attention.

So there they were, toasting with the same champagne a year later, lives intertwined and with their own set of Christmas traditions forming. Two young people with souls still undamaged by the tragedies of life, two young people not realizing how light and magical part of their life they got to call today and tomorrow. Next time you're flying somewhere, don' be a chicken and talk to your hot neighbor on the plane. You never know.

____________________________________________

personal note: thank you so much for all the support you guys gave me for this one, it has grown into my favorite story so far - mainly because I got to put in my own memories and feelings from when I accidentally started dating a semi famous sports guy while having no idea who he was, lol. it was in no way lando level kind of famous, but still, it is a great memory, so thank you for reliving it with me.

there will be blurbs of these two coming in the future, but i wanted to tie the main story to an end. but I can't wait to write more, so i'll be more than happy if you come back for some snap shots of their little moments. thank you - smutty epilogue p2. is on the way

Tagged all those who like to suffer: @prudyhoo @anuksunamon @sagestack @esquerkaren @ushygushybaby @ilove-tswizzle @thehufflepuffavenger1  @superlegend216 @mehrmonga @lovely-blackinnon @mylifeihate1029 @lausdigitaldiary @tswizzleismother @goldenharrysworld @llando4norris @classiclitfreak  @ophcelia @leclerc13 @starmanv @k4r1402 @biitch-with-wifi @drunk-teens-doing-drugs @starmanv @formulaal @scenesofobx

[zentriii]

atsumu groans when light fills up his room. his head's submerged in the clouds and all he knows is that he's going to have to call out of practise today. fuck.

the sheets beside him are barely warm so he forces his eyes open and rubs the crust out with the back of his hand. what kiyoomi won't see can't hurt him. his phone reads 6:23. at least he's awake early enough that kiyoomi hasn't left yet.

the process of brushing his teeth and throwing a pair of clean, non-sweaty pants on feel like they take up five years. there's a fit of nausea trying to make itself known in his stomach but he wants to see kiyoomi off.

"how're you feeling?" kiyoomi asks, filling a plate up with eggs.

"like i wanna be run over by a car." atsumu finds that to be more of an honest statement than he thought it was. he can barely stand up but the unsteadiness of walking over is daunting.

"do you think you can eat some eggs?" there's a small gesture towards the plate in his hands but fuck – the thought alone of how greasy the butter is, the strong flavours of salt and pepper – he could puke.

"i dunno if i could keep 'em down t'be honest," he mumbles, shame churning in his gut. it's not the first time kiyoomi's seen him sick – but it's the first time since they started living together. there's nowhere to hide in their apartment.

"try?" and it's that classic Omi-Pout™ that has him folding. a little because it's cute. a little because he still feels like he's imposing sometimes. a little because he refuses to live with regrets – if all there is, is here and now, atsumu knows he'll be upset if kiyoomi becomes upset too.

there isn't much else for him to do but shrug helplessly and unstick his feet from the ground. walking isn't too bad after the first step – or with company.

the toaster pops off and kiyoomi quickly adds those to his plate before atsumu can even finish washing his hands – as if he'd refuse anything more once he sat down. kiyoomi's not wrong, but still! it's the principle of the matter – wait is atsumu internally trying to convince himself that kiyoomi should consider him a simp? that that's how he wants to be seen?

does he? he does not. (does he?)

atsumu is very confused on which side he's on right now and comes to the conclusion that his head hurts so he will not be thinking further on this matter. he sits down.

kiyoomi's long since scurried off to grab his gym bag and change out of his pjs but despite atsumu's 23 years of life – he misses him. his company's a quiet but solid one and the warmth that atsumu always feels from beside him leaves in exchange for a cold chill. the egg starts tasting more bland.

surprisingly enough – flavour-wise it isn't all that rich to begin with. kiyoomi's the type to overdo quite literally everything when it comes to food, and even though atsumu was expecting something more mellowed out in terms of taste, it's super easy on his stomach.

he wants to ask but kiyoomi beats him to it, walking out of their room and ready for the day. "i used less salt and pepper and cooked it on oil instead of butter. are you alright to finish it?"

atsumu's stomach turns into a mess for a whole new reason and there's tears pricking at his eyes that he ignores. "yeah," he croaks, voice far too fragile to say any more.

"i called coach already, i left some medicine on your nightstand and – rest well okay?" kiyoomi's brows furl and it rushes into atsumu all at once how far kiyoomi's going for him.

kiyoomi who hates being sick, hates the idea of even getting sick. kiyoomi who's been playing nurse since atsumu woke them both up in the middle of the night with a sudden fever, not once complaining about being in close contact with him.

"omi-kun–" atsumu's voice warbles. he's gonna regret this later but he's. he's not even sure what he wants to say but he feels steady enough on his feet thanks to the food kiyoomi carefully made.

"i'll be back soon yeah?" and it's the way kiyoomi doesn't make a step to the door that brings words flooding out of atsumu.

"i'll be waitin' at home for ya." there's a silent moment where he wonders if he chose wrong, if kiyoomi wasn't really ready to refer to his apartment as theirs. it's only been two months since he–

"yeah, love you." atsumu hates how he can't smother kiyoomi's stupid pretty little face in kisses so instead he engraves the curve of kiyoomi's pleased and wobbly smile into his mind.

atsumu knows his face is just as sappy. he can't quite find it in himself to care.

"love you too."

[allzelemonz]

Out: Slade Wilson & FTM Reader

Pronouns: he/him Physical Sex: AFAB Rating: T/Language Warnings: Mentor & protege, Reader is referred to as younger, Slade says trans rights, trans reader, ftm reader, transition process, fluff, Slade being nice for once, Ish is a hormone dealer but only for Slade’s kids and apprentices, themes around menstruation are not specific or graphic, background relationship: Ish/Joey Summary: You ran out of hormones, annoyingly causing your cycle to start up again, but you’re stuck on a mission with Slade. A/N: For those that don't know, '&' means platonic. But you can read it however you want, I was going for adoptive father-son vibes.

Your heart beats a little faster when you notice. Apparently letting yourself run out of hormones wasn’t as good of a call as you thought because now you have to deal with this. If you were at the compound it wouldn’t be a huge deal, Rose has shit you could steal, but out here on a job with Slade there’s not a lot of options. Toilet paper, sure, but that’s not ideal when you have a mission. For a while you just stare at the ground, hoping to will it away. But Slade’s knock on the bathroom door makes you jump.

“Hurry up, kid.”

You steele yourself, swallowing the bundle of nerves down and opening the door. Slade glares down at you, probably already regretting picking you from his pool of apprentices to bring along.

“The hell is wrong with you, kid?”

You clear your throat as your feet shift responsibility for your weight. “I, uh… I need something.”

“Well, out with it.”

You hesitate, trying to figure out how to explain. “I-I’m trans—“

“I know, brat.” He scoffs. “Are you gonna tell me what’s wrong?”

“Bleeding.” Is all you can make your mouth get out.

Slade huffs, walking over to his bag. You watch from the doorframe, half expecting a knife to come at you. Instead he throws the menstrual product your way like a ninja star. You catch it, looking up at him utterly confused.

“I don’t know why you brats think you can’t tell me things.” He grumbles. “You ran out of hormones, didn’t you?”

You nod, a bit too confused by his reaction to this whole thing to speak. You didn’t even think he knew about the situation.

Slade just sighs, pulling out his phone. “That’s not good for you, kid. I’ll call Ish and tell we have another one.”

You stare at him for a moment as he types on his phone. “Another one?”

Slade raises a brow. “You think you’re the only one of my boys like this?” He chuckles, holding his phone up to his ear. “Might be the fifth.”

You watch Slade as he wanders, talking to Ish with the same disdain he always does now. Not that Ish is a bad guy, he’s pretty nice, but that stuff with Joey rubs Slade the wrong way. Still, he has to mind to call him up whenever he needs scientific help.

“He was on them, yeah.” Slade says into the phone. “No, Ish, why would I know that?” He scoffs at whatever Ish says in response. “I’m not the one fucking my nephew… he might as well be your blood, Ish… do you think the fact that you changed more of his diapers than I did makes you look better in this?”

You know this argument will go on for a while, so you slip into the bathroom with your bag and situate yourself, cleaning off the blood and changing things. When you come back out, Slade is listening intently to Ish.

“Five hours until the mark, yeah… Istanbul? What the hell are you doing in… no, I didn’t… fine, yeah, as long as we make the hit, I don’t give a shit… see you then.”

He tosses the phone onto his bed by his bag and looks up at you. “Feeling better?”

You nod. “Why’d you have to talk to Ish?”

“He can get hormones… surgery too, if you ever want that” Slade grumbles. “Lucky I like you, kid. Hate Ish.”

Something about that makes you smile. Slade sucks, no one denies that. But sometimes he doesn’t, sometimes he cares enough to make the brutality of training worthwhile.

[suzukiblu]

Ko-fi thank-you sentences for 🦄 behind the cut; obligatory sugar baby Kon.

Good. Let me send you the address, Tim says, and does. Might as well take care of that now, he figures. Kon sends him back a bunch of candy and heart emojis. Tim suffers for a moment and tries to figure out if he can emotionally handle sending any back. 

He tries a lollipop, immediately regrets it and replaces it with a wrapped candy, then regrets that too and tries the neutrality of a normal heart, but that doesn't seem like he's trying hard enough, and he deletes that too and then stares blankly at his empty text box with no idea what to put in it. 

u really liked the glitter? Kon asks, which nearly puts Tim back on the floor to crawl under his bed and hide from his own phone. like its not 2 much?

Not even slightly, Tim says. It looks good on you. 

so like u'd like it if i did it again sometime? Kon asks after a noticeable pause. 

Never mind. Tim does in fact need to crawl in under his bed. 

He'll text back after he gets re-settled, he promises himself, then shoves aside his remaining dirty laundry, slides in sideways, and suffers into his carpet. 

Yes, he texts back blind, hoping autocorrect will save him from any particularly fucked-up typos. 

Kon's text alert sounds after another noticeable pause. Tim steels himself, then peeks at the screen. 

k, it says, and nothing else. Tim wonders . . . it wasn't necessarily flirty, the way Kon asked that. So does that mean . . . 

It really does look good on you, he tries very, very cautiously, hoping he's not, like–making it weird. But Kon showed up in eyeliner and nail polish for their first “official” date and just showed him a new eyeliner he specifically asked someone he knew for help with, and he seemed to like the crop top and the short-shorts, so . . . like, does that mean he's interested in dressing a bit less, well . . . like how Tim would've expected him to want to dress, let's say?

He's really never seen him in civvies before this, so . . . who knows, really? 

all of it? Kon asks after yet another noticeable pause. Tim buries his face in the carpet so he can process the reminder of the lip gloss's existence. Jesus. 

Definitely all of it, he agrees. 

Kon doesn't text back right away. Tim considers following up, and also considers just signing over his entire trust fund to him no strings attached and wandering off to become a hermit so he can, like, survive this experience. 

It probably wouldn't work. He'd end up spending all his time worrying about Kon ending up staying in a lab and thinking it's fine to be there instead of, like . . . meditating, or whatever it is hermits actually do. 

It really does seem like Kon just–doesn't think it matters if he's in a lab, and Tim can't tell if that's because he actually doesn't care, or if it's because he thinks no one else cares. Superman clearly doesn't. Cadmus definitely doesn't. 

And he'd told Robin about it like he hadn't expected him to care either. 

That's really a thought Tim would've preferred to have occur to him while he wasn't actively talking to Kon, though at least they're not face-to-face right now. It's a little easier to not have to worry about his expression while having that sour lemon of a realization. 

Considering Kon's best endorsement of working for Cadmus when he'd been trying to sell it to him had been “could be worse”, though . . . 

Tim actually hates everything in the world, yeah. Aside from a few obvious exceptions of people who he has to either convince to turn supervillain with him or emotionally sidekick-support until such a time as he can turn supervillain, obviously. Just all of it. Whole world. The world just sucks. 

Well, there's a reason he's got supervillain plans, and that reason is definitely not that society is fine and good and morally okay as it is. 

The most moral thing to do in a situation like this is become a supervillain, as far as Tim's concerned.

[violetevermore24]

A Different Pride

So this fic took longer than expected. I tried my best to write Cero here and probably failed miserably at it /lh. This is mainly because it's the first time I wrote an egotistical prick like Cero.

I tried to draw the two for this because why not? Plus it's fun to draw Cero ngl, even if it was a bit challenging.

The sour grape, Cero and Reiba belongs to @eldritch-spouse. Please support the amazing artist/writer, she deserves it for making me interested and simp for her characters! 😄

CW: Mentions of Forced Marriage; Cero is his own warning; Toxic relationship; Mention of Egg-preg; Choking

Heavy footsteps of the Queen of Pride echoed the hallways with the team of imp servants scuttering about and dutifully fulfilling their roles. His towering body felt like an intimidating giant in comparison, one that radiates respect and coldness, fitting for his role as a ruler. The additional permanent aloofness only serves to support it. He didn’t even need to use his sharp violet eyes to know that his presence made the servants’ bodies tense up like statues despite working for him for several months, which was understandable given their King has the patience of a spoiled toddler and the Queen has the aura that screams ‘Test my patience and you will regret it’. 

Everyone in the mansion could tell that there was tension between the royal couple, but none dared to say a peep.

Lucian, a name he gave himself for centuries, has long blonde hair tied to the back - showing his smooth square face and forced to wear a face-cringing and stuffy suit in purple and black to match his husband. It was one he hated wearing from the amount of sweat he’d accumulated within the past few hours, and being in a hot environment like Hell doesn’t help. 

The purple scales on his hand and arms itched with the temptation to lull him into scratching it. It took all of his willpower to reign himself on an imaginary leash so he wouldn’t try ripping off his clothes just to feel a semblance of coolness brushing through his muscular body. If he did that, Cero would be popping more veins than Lucian growing more strands of grey hair, and while the image was enticing, another round of unnecessary tantrums made him mentally shove it into the depths of his mind.

Quiet frankly, the existence of Cero being the King of Pride was an indirect mockery to Lucian who he considers himself to embody the sin. So much so, that he wants the world to smite the pale demon on his behalf. 

The long and wide hallway of the mansion was dawned in hues of purple and black, in contrast to Lucian’s castle that’s in white and purple. The expensive and high-quality pieces of furniture and decorations in every corner and inch of the place would make any lower class cry in awe. 

The walls hung the many paintings of the King with his familiar yet disgusting arrogance and sharp facial features that reflected the Pride Ring it represented. The dreaded atmosphere lingered on those braved enough to walk into its unwelcoming embrace that threatened to suffocate you of all your worth.

Always striving for perfection, was what Lucian can describe as his asshole of a husband. He could hardly remember how many times he wanted to knock Cero’s ego down a peg over the course of their marriage. Hell, he sometimes thought of railing him to submissiveness every time he opened his mouth, no matter how much the idea made him grimace. The fucking demon is really edging him this far. It’s almost impressive.

He had no one but himself to blame for his predicament. His cold heart thumped when Cero showed him the contract, albeit a corrupted one, but a good one nonetheless. The way he holds himself. The way he explains the process of the contract, simultaneously expresses his pride for his skills and intelligence. It was the ideal courtship he imagined, minus the kidnapping, and he fell hard for it. Even if he didn’t, it wasn’t like he had any other choice. From what he learned, Icons of Hell are forces that shouldn’t be trifled with, and he could get severely injured in the process. Even if he did won, he had to crawl himself out of Hell and getting more injured from other demons. Whether they care about the death of the Icon of Pride or not is up in the air and Lucian won't take his chances.

Because of these raging fantasies that will lead to his ending, his footsteps quicken to speed walking pace towards the library, causing many of the passing servants to sweat drop from the intense aura he emits mixed with his resting bitch face. It’s a sanctuary for him and the one place he can indulge in his hobby while pretending he isn’t stuck in a prison that he can’t escape from. 

For once, he can fantasize a life where he was in a “better” relationship.

With someone who doesn’t say his handmade violet gemstone, an indirect ‘I love you. so. fucking. much’, that it wouldn’t look “perfect” for any artificial trinket. The gall to insinuate a dragon’s gem won’t look magnificent unless it’s turned into a fucking accessory is a personal insult to its creator. Oh if only that demon understood how much he left a crack in his Queen’s heart that day.

Just say my gem is garbage, you fuck. He huffed, brushing his blonde hair back.

Sure, the gem was not perfect, but Lucian had made countless attempts to form his scales into gems in secret for over a month, many of which were wasted because it wasn’t up to his standards, until it was exactly how he wanted to look. All those tiring days to form a singular scale into a suitable gemstone for his mate. Even, the head servant was willing to help keep his project hush-hush from Cero and give her different flavors of puddings for compensation. 

The result was an almost palm-sized, smooth purple gem with slight bumps, shaped like an oval. He vividly remembered how his chest puffed up with pride at his creation.

The failed creations still sat in his personal bedroom drawer to this day as a reminder of his endeavor and that hell forsaken reaction.

A part of his mind reminded him that it was a Pride Demon’s love language, to make everything about them and show little vulnerability, but that went one ear and out the other. 

The cold air seeps through the faint crack of the large door and embraces the newcomer as the door is pushed open and rumbles through the large and grand library, filled with thousands of books and organized into their categories. Cero had demanded that all of the servants ensure that not a single book was misplaced or damaged, lest they want to face the wrath of the Icon. An act that Lucian appreciates, almost made the edges of his lips tug up when no one was looking.

While he scans through the various shelves, one section catches his eyes and widens like saucers. There’s an entire six rows of novels with a hardcover and arranged in their perspective genres. The humanoid dragon didn’t recall ever seeing this new section and he doubted Cero was the kind to read these books, trying to search his already old memories to find answers, until one event came to mind, a complaint that he made to his husband about the lack of novels in the library and got told that his taste in books was god awful. Another petty grudge to hold against him.

The frown turned upside, forming into a genuine, rare, warm smile, forgetting his frustrations with his pompous husband. “You exceeded my expectations once again” He humored himself, as he took a random novel off the shelf and sat near the windowsill, turning to the first page. 

Lucian was already planning out his quality time with Cero in his mind, while simultaneously flipping through the pages and reading the sentences. Maybe he should start creating his second gem. A “perfect” one this time.

A serene ambiance settles into the library that day……

Why does it feel like he forgot something?

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Insecurity is an ugly feeling to have, especially for a proud demon. It will gnaw at them till they do something to prove that little whisper in their heads that whatever degradation it throws their way is completely wrong, a lie that should never be said in the first place. 

Unfortunately, Cero can’t entirely control how his feelings and mind operate. Ever since he successfully made Lucian his Queen with the contract, something he put all his blood, sweat, and tears into despite the haste, and feeling waves of euphoria from the smooth process and his obedient (he isn’t) inamorato following diligently to the lessons he planned out to be a fitting Queen of Pride.

When Lucian gifted him the gemstone he put equal blood, sweat, and tears into that Cero’s ego was stroked into a disgusting smarmy smile and chest puffed up to an obnoxious degree. Heck, he even kept the gemstone in a separate safe after admiring it like a love-struck teenager whose crush just gave him a love letter.

While he wished it was better quality, the fact his inamorato offered him physical proof of his race’s eternal love - after a lot of painful waiting on the demon’s side, was good enough. Shame, he missed the flash of hurt and anger that came when the pallid demon expressed how his lovely gem wouldn’t be fitting for any accessories. Apart from their soon-to-be new wedding rings.

He wanted to return that affection, but no matter what he does, no matter how much he shows off his talent, intelligence, and his monologue about how ‘he must be lucky to have him as his husband and King and saving him from that pig’s pen of a home’. Going as far as showing his much softer side to the stubborn dragon, yet he couldn’t make a dent in his Queen’s stubborn walls. It was as if he expected something from him but didn’t know what it is.

What is wrong with him? Is it part of the courtship? Why isn’t he giving his King his usual physical touch? The soft gazes? The genuine adoration? Why is he trying so damn hard to not show it!? Whirlwinds of countless questions without answers were eating the demon alive.

Cero’s sharp claw of his index finger taps away at his forearm, filling the halls with his frustrations that threaten to explode. 

Poor Reiba is standing near him like a deer in headlights, being careful with her pose and speech lest she wants to be ripped in half in this minefield. She was also confused why the Queen grew distant from Cero, but she figured it must’ve been a cultural difference or a miscommunication.

The door to the library was left slightly ajar, and only one person would do it. 

The cold air from the room made the pallid demon shudder, regretting ever implementing the cold stones into the library so his inamorato wouldn’t melt into a pathetic puddle while he was reading. “That idiot is still doing this?! How many times do I need to drill it into his pathetic excuse of a memory until he understands?!” 

Various images of how he will discipline his dumb Queen. Ranging from whipping to overstimulating till the dragon begged for him to stop with big fat tears. It caused his shaft to almost slip out of his slit at the mere thought of it. How embarrassing. 

The two demons brace themselves with cold resistance magic before entering the library. Cero strides elegantly towards the spot near the windowsill like it was second nature. 

“Is there something you need from me, Cero?” Lucian quips as he raises his head from the book. It’s always amusing to see Cero and Reiba shivering from the cold.

The pallid demon crossed his arms, glared daggers at the dragon, and a scowl plastered his white facade with patches of salmon. “You better have a good reason for leaving the door open again!” Ah here it is, his incessant whining. Classic.

Lucian internally scoffed at it, knowing full well that he did it on purpose to lure him here. Time to flatter him, much to the dragon’s dismay. “I’m so sorry, my beloved King. My carelessness has prevented me from being a worthy Queen to someone as handsome and amazing as you. Is it so wrong of me to wish to see your beautiful eyes and hear your voice that lulls me in like a siren?” He offers a small smile as an extra.

Gods above, he wants to gag and hurl from saying such cheesy lines. He couldn’t believe he stooped this low for self-preservation. 

The silence is all the answers he needs. He could see his chest puff up and a slight flush on his cheeks from his ego being preened. Even though Lucian could be bullshiting every word. 

Once Cero’s mood has been lifted, the dragon sees fit to clear up something. 

The Queen makes a hand gesture for Reiba to leave the two in private, knowing the aftermath could become worse if she stays and he cannot afford to have her get caught in the crossfire. 

The pale imp went still as statue, and glanced to her king for his input. Fortunately, Cero waves his hand to dismiss the head servant. It’s done out of curiosity and intrigue on the demon’s side, as Reiba leaves the library.

Once Lucian is sure that the two are alone, he’s the first to break the silence. “While you’re here, I want to clear a misunderstanding between us”

“A misunderstanding?” Cero raised an eyebrow. Attentively listening to what he has to say.

“I’m aware that dragons are rare species, let alone knowledge of us aside from mythologies humans created. The gem I gave you the other day. It’s why I want to explain that it’s used as a vessel to store energy for when the mother requires more stamina before labor to ensure a safe birth and usually the gem is eaten raw” He explains with his stoicness, letting it sink in.

A reminder that they can’t have a biological heir, at least to him. The demon’s face morphs into a look that says ‘So what?’ mixed with impatience and offense. “That’s it?” 

Lucian didn’t think Cero would be this oblivious to the message, but he’s not complaining. If anything, the dragon is internally elated for the grand reveal. One that will surely dig his own grave. “I wish to save this last information until I create a second gem for you, my beautiful King. But since you’re curious….” 

“Get to it already! I don’t have all day!” 

“The gem is also used as an artificial egg for same-sex couples. The process simply needs you to shove the gem into your anus and I-” 

Cero immediately grabbed Lucian’s neck in a blink of an eye before he could finish the sentence. The former’s sharp claws, which he diligently filed and maintained to perfection, are threatening to pierce through the skin. If it was possible, Cero’s face went redder than Kalymir’s entire body and radiating that same anger as he does but more mellow and dangerous. Despite this, Lucian’s aloofness never wavered, only making the demon’s blood pressure skyrocket to the moon. 

“Choose your next words carefully, pet” The venom is clear as crystal.

“My next words are exactly as I implied, my beloved King. I want to see you glow as the sun when you bear our heir” A rare soft gaze and smile stretch his face. A dragon will not back down without a fight. 

[allmoshnobrain]

𝐯𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐬

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

part 03 of ? | masterpost

word count: 3.9k

You were close, maybe too close, but he didn't really care, not with the beer making everything feel softer, fuzzier. He'd been seeing you all day, even when you weren't around. You were everywhere, and it just made him more fascinated by you. Fuck. Maybe he really was lonely.

✦ warnings and tags: jason newsted x reader, age gap (23/38), no use of y/n, slow burn, grumpy/sunshine dynamics maybe?, reader has a backstory and it's kinda tragic, a bit of angst, eventual smut in future parts, drinking

You and Jason didn’t talk much on the way home. After saying goodbye, he couldn’t help but think about how easily he had hugged you, holding you close to try and lift your sadness, even if just for a moment.

Jason had to admit you intrigued him; you were kind and friendly, and clearly loved by everyone around you, which in a way was the opposite of what he felt about himself, having quit Metallica feeling like he was no more than a spare tire that his bandmates couldn’t bring themselves to care about. 

No, he was being unfair. He had built quite the friendship with Kirk over the years, but Lars and James — especially James — were tough to deal with. He could still remember the fights, how they'd laugh and mock him, and the way James acted like he owed them everything — his time, his obedience, his loyalty. But it was never enough.

Would it ever be enough if he had stayed?

Maybe that’s why he didn’t regret quitting. He didn’t regret leaving everything behind to start fresh somewhere new, somewhere people didn’t know him. And after seeing the way you looked at him, curious but never judgmental, he couldn’t help but think he’d made the right call.

Because if no one knew who he was, no one could hate him for leaving.

The next time he saw you was Monday morning. He was brewing some coffee for breakfast when you walked past his house, your hair in a ponytail and your bike by your side. He smiled softly as you went by, letting out a small sigh when he realized the weekend was over. He knew he’d better start working on his new songs soon, or else he’d have nothing to show his producer the next time he went to LA.

Working on a solo project was the most fun Jason had in a long time. Being creative was such a big part of who he was, a part that had been ignored and dismissed during his years with his old band. He felt freer now that he could focus on the whirlwind of ideas he had in his own brain, now that he could get lost in his own music, with no other noise to take him away from it.

The morning flew by as he worked on his new songs. Writing them on his own was tough but rewarding. Jason knew he'd eventually need to recruit some musicians for his solo project, but he wanted a solid idea in place before teaming up with anyone. For now, he just wanted to enjoy the process alone, and that’s what he did — at least until his stomach started rumbling.

Lunchtime already, he sighed, glancing at his watch. At least I had a productive morning.

He got up, placed his bass guitar in its case, and grabbed his keys, deciding to head out for some lunch. He knew he wouldn’t have many options in such a small town, unlike back in LA where he could find anything he wanted, but that didn’t bother him. He thought about inviting you for lunch for a moment, then shook his head with a sigh. You barely knew each other, and besides, you weren’t home. Sometimes, Jason had to remind himself that people were usually busy during weekdays; you’d probably be working, too busy to hang out with some boring old guy like him.

Jason wasn’t really old, but he sure felt like it these days. Just a year before, he would have been living a life completely different from these calm, peaceful days in Oak Ridge. If he closed his eyes, he could still remember the energy, the electricity of playing to thousands of people, and the chaos of backstage life — the booze, the drugs, the girls, the fights. But mostly, he remembered how tired he used to feel.

He ended up going to Joe’s Diner again for lunch, raising an eyebrow in surprise at how packed the place was. It was a totally different scene from the empty diner he'd visited with you the day before; now, it was buzzing with laughter and conversation, and the sweet smell of food filled the air. He tried to ignore the curious looks he got as he walked in, but being a stranger in a place where everybody knew everybody still felt better somehow than being a public figure.

“Afternoon,” Maggie smiled as she walked by, pouring Jason some fresh coffee as he sat at the counter.

“Busy day?” Jason grinned.

“The usual,” Maggie said, handing him the menu. “You just caught us at lunchtime. Small town diners, you know?”

“I don’t, actually,” he chuckled, and she raised an eyebrow in surprise. “Before this, I lived in LA.”

“That’s quite the change of pace, huh?” Maggie remarked, before glancing over as someone called for her. “Sorry, I’ll be back to take your order in a minute.”

He was debating whether to go for the same burger with fries he had the day before or maybe try something new when the boy walked in.

He looked around your age, with dark hair, his brown eyes in dark circles and lips curled down in a worried expression. Jason didn’t really pay much attention to the way he scanned the place, seemingly searching for someone before striding over to Maggie, not until he heard him say your name, say he had to talk to you.

“She already told you she doesn’t want to see you, Ethan,” Maggie frowned, and Jason raised an eyebrow as the boy groaned in frustration. “You should give her some space. She didn’t even come in for lunch today.”

“I gotta talk to her, Maggie, but she won’t listen!” he said, trying to keep his voice down but failing. Jason could see the way some people tried to pretend they weren’t listening, even though it was obvious they were paying attention to the small commotion Ethan was causing. 

The old small town gossip, Jason scoffed, unable to ignore how he was also tuned into the drama. He frowned, pondering what role that boy would play in your life, slightly annoyed by his persistence with Maggie. You were such a sweet girl; Jason found it hard to believe you'd shut someone out without a good reason.

“I’m sure she’ll talk to you when she’s ready, but you gotta give her some space,” Maggie said firmly. “Now, you gonna order something? I’m swamped here, kid.”

Ethan glanced around, his face flushing when he saw how crowded the diner was. He shook his head and stormed out. Jason watched him go, trying to ignore the curiosity rising in his mind.

“Sorry about that,” Maggie sighed. “What can I get you?”

“Um, yeah, I’ll take the meatloaf, please,” Jason replied. Maggie nodded, refilling his coffee cup before heading to the kitchen.

After lunch, as Jason drove home, he found himself thinking about you once more. You seemed to be everywhere, even when you weren’t around. The more he thought about you, the more he saw the layers of your complexity, revealing someone he couldn’t help but feel drawn to.

He found himself wondering about your relationship with Ethan, what your history with him entailed, and what had upset you so much. He hadn’t seen you upset yet, not really, just a bit sad, and he wondered how much of that sadness you let others see. Would it be easier to open up to someone you didn’t know well? Would it help if he assured you he was willing to listen if you ever needed to talk?

He scoffed. What was he thinking? You two hardly knew each other, and you were so much younger than him, clearly more innocent and less experienced in life. He didn’t know what you liked, who you wanted to become, or what dreams you had. It wasn’t really his business, anyway.

But still, he wanted to know. He wanted to understand you.

He was distracted from his thoughts by one of those traffic boards at the crossroads, the kind that points out where all the important spots in town are. This one had a few names on it, with arrows showing which way to go: Church, School, Main Street, Recreation Club.

The Recreation Club. Jason remembered how you talked about it, like you really missed it, a hint of sadness in your voice that surprised him coming from someone so young. He hesitated for a moment, then decided to take the street that led to the place. Figured it wouldn’t hurt to explore somewhere new, right? Maybe it’d be a good spot to relax, meet some locals, or even find inspiration for his songs.

He drove for a while along a road flanked by trees, admiring the view as the houses became more and more sparse. This was something else he wasn’t used to, how much nature was all around in this town, surrounding everything. It was no wonder the place felt so secluded.

After some minutes, Jason finally pulled up to the entrance of the Recreation Club. Like everything else he'd seen in Oak Ridge so far, the place seemed like it had its heyday a few decades back, with faded paint on the walls and a few tiles missing from the entrance path. Still, it was clear they kept it well maintained — grass neatly mowed, a couple of flower bushes trimmed into squares by the main door.

He stepped into the reception area, a basic room with wooden benches and a counter. A young girl sat behind it, flipping through a magazine. She had dark hair with a single blue stripe and a round face. When Jason walked in, she glanced up, raising an eyebrow with curiosity.

"Afternoon," Jason greeted with a small smile.

"Hey," she replied, closing the magazine and setting it aside as she stood up. "Can I help you with anything?"

"I'm new in town," he explained. "Thought it might be nice to join the club, you know?"

"Oh, you're the new guy?" she asked, and Jason blinked in surprise.

"The new guy?" he echoed, slightly amused. The girl chuckled softly.

"The guy who's come to live in this isolated hell hole? You know, people talk. Besides, I'm friends with your neighbor."

She was definitely talking about you — who else could it be? Jason chuckled softly, pondering if you had mentioned him to your friends and what you might have said. The idea of you being as curious about him as he was about you made his lips curl up in an involuntary little smile.

“Well, yeah, I’m the new guy. Name’s Jason, nice to meet you,” he introduced himself.

“I’m Sophie. So, you’re liking the town so far?” she asked, leaning on the counter with genuine interest sparkling in her eyes. God, young folks here are just eager for anything new, aren’t they?, he thought. 

"Yeah, it's a pretty peaceful place," he replied with a smile. "So, do I need any specific paperwork to join the club?"

"Oh, nothing special. Just some ID and our membership form to fill out," Sophie explained.

"And if I wanted to cover someone else's membership fee, would that work?" Jason asked, an idea forming in his mind. He wasn't sure why the thought of paying for your subscription popped up, but honestly, that was the whole reason he’d come there, right? It's not like he was dying to join the club himself, and money wasn't an issue for him anyway. But he knew it could make a difference for you.

"Oh, I think that should be fine, as long as the fee is paid," Sophie replied, and Jason nodded.

"Can you give me an extra copy of the membership form? I'll just get my... friend's info filled out before I bring it back," Jason asked. 

"Sure thing. Just make sure your friend comes along for a photo and so we can make a copy of your IDs," Sophie replied, handing him two sheets of paper. 

"Thanks, kid. Catch you later," Jason smiled before heading out.

He got back to his car with a sigh, taking a quick look at the two paper sheets. As expected, there were two copies of the registration form, asking for basic info like name, age, and address. They detailed the membership fee, which, as he expected, wasn't a big deal — at least not to him. No need for references or recommendation letters from other members, unlike those exclusive elite LA clubs. Life really was simpler here.

Jason wasn’t naive; he knew having money didn’t mean he could help everyone, and he didn’t really want to intrude into your life, to put himself into the role of a savior. But you had been nothing but kind to him from the start. If he could make things a bit easier for you, he was more than willing to do it.

The rest of his day was spent unpacking. It was a good distraction, sorting through boxes and setting things in place. Yet, in the back of his mind, he couldn’t shake the anticipation of seeing you again. What would your reaction be when you saw the registration form? Would you appreciate the gesture? Or would you turn it down? Maybe you’d think he was just being weird. Honestly, he wouldn’t blame you if you did.

It was a side of him he hadn’t seen in ages, not since before his days as a rockstar. The more famous Metallica became, the harder it was for Jason to forge genuine connections with people who didn’t see him through the lens of his fame. Everyone knew him as the Metallica guy, and that carried certain expectations and privileges. His fame was like a backstage pass that got him whatever he wanted, but he missed the simplicity of getting to know people for who they truly were.

But you were different. You were the first person in a long time who had no idea who he was, who didn’t treat him like a celebrity at all. Maybe he was just feeling lonely — the thought made him roll his eyes, cheeks flushing slightly.

Night fell, and your place was still empty, porch light on just like you used to leave it when you weren’t around. Jason got bored of whatever was on TV real quick and figured he'd head out again. He'd spotted this bar on Main Street earlier; he wasn't really up for drinking on a Monday, but figured it beat sitting alone all night.

Main Street wasn’t all that far from home; he decided to walk this time instead of driving, and he made it there quicker than he thought. The moon was full up there, its shine kinda dimmed by the streetlights, and a few stores were still open. He spotted the bar, grinning a bit at the weathered sign, a classic Eagle drawing matching the bar’s name, Eagle’s Nest.

He stepped inside, the brisk night air being replaced by a welcome warmth. The place was small, but neat. A few tables were taken, with a football game blaring on the TV. It was still early, so the place was pretty empty. He scoped it out, thinking about grabbing a seat at the counter, and blinked in surprise when he spotted you, laughing softly as you talked to one of the regulars.

You looked beautiful in your pretty waitress getup, hair tied back loose with a tray of beers in hand. Everywhere I look, there she is, Jason mused, a small spark of delight fluttering in his chest. He stood there, just watching you for a moment, and couldn’t help but smile when your eyes met. You seemed a bit surprised to see him, but still flashed a smile, nodding toward the counter as you made your way over. Jason followed, taking a seat.

“Welcome to Eagle’s Nest, Mr. Newsted. You finally got tired of small-town life and decided to seek some excitement?" you teased, and Jason chuckled. You were adorable, bright eyes sparkling with kindness and a familiarity that made him feel like you were old friends.

"Who said I was bored?" he shot back. You laughed softly.

"Sophie mentioned you swung by the Rec Club this afternoon. Figured you'd be scouting for something to do," you remarked casually. He raised an eyebrow. Word sure traveled fast in this neck of the woods.

"So, has everyone been gossiping about the new guy or is it you just trying to crack the mystery?" he smirked, and you chuckled, cheeks tinted with a blush.

"It's a small town. People talk," you replied.

"Yeah, I've heard," he nodded.

"So, what can I get you?" you asked, a small smile playing on your lips.

"Just a beer, please," Jason said. You nodded, grabbing him a bottle.

"You working the night shift?" he inquired.

"Yeah, Mondays and Fridays here," you answered. "Plus my day gig at the flower shop."

"You're a hard worker, kid. Maybe you should take it easy," he remarked, and you chuckled.

"It's all good. Just got a couple more hours and then I'm heading home for a nice, long, hot shower," you sighed.

"Have you eaten anything yet?" he asked, a hint of concern in his voice seeing you still on your feet after starting so early.

"Yeah, had a salad and fries," you replied. Jason raised an eyebrow.

"That's not the healthiest meal."

"Salad's healthy!" you laughed, and Jason smiled. You glanced up as the bar door swung open and a group of older guys strolled in. "Sorry, I'll be right back," you said.

"Don't worry about me, go do your thing," he reassured you.

The next couple of hours flew by in a flash; the bar filled up nicely as time ticked on. Jason wasn’t surprised when a few folks sidled up for a chat — curiosity seemed to be a common trait around town, probably 'cause not much new ever happened. He sipped a couple more beers and some water, not keen on waking up with a headache the next day, all the while getting to know some locals: Frank Masters, an older guy from the police station, and Greg Smith, Sophie’s dad who’d swung by after work.

Folks were friendly, eager to chat and share their stories. But even as Jason mingled and made new acquaintances, his eyes kept drifting back to you. You were buzzing around like a busy bee, looking after tables, serving drinks and snacks, always with a smile.

As the night wound down, the crowd thinned out. People were heading home early to catch some shut-eye before another workday. You began clearing empty glasses and plates, taking them back to the kitchen while Jason bid farewell to the guys he'd been talking to.

"You ready to call it a night?" he asked as you refilled his water glass. You flashed a smile.

"Almost, still gotta shut things down," you replied.

"Want me to hang around and wait for you?" he offered, the beers loosening his tongue a bit. You hesitated, biting your lip.

"You don't have to wait on me," you said finally. "I'll be here a while."

"I can stick around, if you want," he offered.

"Okay," you nodded, cheeks flushed as you headed back to the kitchen. Jason hung back while you and your coworkers closed shop, tidying tables, mopping floors, washing dishes, and turning off the TV. After a trip to the bathroom, you returned in fresh clothes, your hair down.

"You ready to roll?" Jason asked, and you nodded. He walked out as you said your goodbyes to your coworkers, then watched you retrieve your bike from the bar's little backyard.

The walk home was quiet; Jason didn't quite know what to say, noticing the slight flush in your cheeks whenever your eyes met his. He wanted to ask about your day, about what went down while he was away. But was it really his business? A weird sort of shyness crept over both of you, the easy vibe from the bar now a distant memory.

You both arrived at your place, and he walked you to the door, the quiet still hanging between you as you leaned your bike against the porch railing.

"Thanks for walking me home," you said softly.

"No problem," he replied, then paused before calling your name. You glanced at him, curious. 

"I swung by the Club today," he started.

"I know," you replied with a smile, and Jason chuckled.

"Yeah, well... I couldn't help noticing how much it means to you. So…” he hesitated. “I asked Sophie, and she said it's cool to pay for someone else’s fee. Would you maybe want to come with me tomorrow? I could get you signed up as a member.”

You blinked, clearly caught off guard, and Jason cursed himself for bringing it up now. Maybe it would've been better to mention it the next morning when he wasn't a bit fuzzy from a couple of beers, when his thoughts would be clearer. When he could explain he would be doing this just as a friendly gesture, with no hopes of having anything in return.

"This ain't a transaction," he clarified, and you raised an eyebrow. "I mean, you don't owe me anything for this, alright? Just think of it as a friend helping out."

"You'd really do that?" you asked quietly. "Mr. Newsted, I... You don't need to spend your money on me."

"Don't sweat about the money," he reassured, his hand gently brushing against your hair. He’d never say it like that, but it’s true he had way more cash than he knew what to do with. 

"Are we... friends then?" you asked, and he chuckled, caught off guard.

"What?"

"You said to think of it as a friend helping out," you replied with a small smile. "So..."

"Yeah, of course. That's what friends do, right? They look out for each other," he said, making you laugh softly. "Look, you don't have to say yes if you don't want to. But I saw how down you were yesterday after talking about your parents, and... I wanted to help."

"You don't have to."

"But I want to," he whispered, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "Will you think about it? I can take you there tomorrow morning before work, if you want. Is it okay?"

"Okay. I'll think about it," you said, your cheeks turning the cutest shade of pink when he gently took your chin in his hand. You were close, maybe too close, but he didn't really care, not with the beer making everything feel softer, fuzzier. He'd been seeing you all day, even when you weren't around. You were everywhere, and it just made him more fascinated by you.

Fuck. Maybe he really was lonely.

"Thanks," he whispered, letting his hand drop to his side. "Talk to you tomorrow, then?"

"Yeah.”

"Okay. Goodnight," he said, turning to leave.

"Mr. Newsted," you called out, and he stopped, looking back at you with curious eyes. You stood on the warmly lit porch, arms wrapped around yourself, a small smile playing on your lips. 

"What is it?" he asked, stepping closer to you.

"It's just... thanks," you said simply. "See you tomorrow, right?"

It felt like neither of you wanted to say goodbye, and he couldn't help but wonder how you'd react if he told you he actually didn't.

"Yeah. Goodnight, dear."

He couldn't help but notice the way you smiled when he called you that, the way you bit your lower lip softly. It made him want to say it again, just to see how you’d react.

"Goodnight, Jason," you said back, and he smiled softly before heading home.

✧ if you'd like to be tagged on the next parts, let me know and I'll add you to the tag list! ❤ ✧

[bambifornia]

more swindle headcanons because he won't leave my brain and i'm tired of him

crazy good at math. he's able to calculate the price/cost of something within seconds. the only reason he's not a mathematician/accountant or anything like that is because swindle wouldn't do well with those jobs. swindle likes moving on his pedes, not sitting behind a desk

extremely well-versed in politics. but not because he's very political or anything; swindle just likes knowing where and when the next intergalactic war is raging so he can profit off it. it helps to keep up with the news

workaholic. though this trait is less notable to see in him than say, someone like optimus (mostly because swindle takes great care not to let his exhaustion be shown. his image MUST be perserved, after all)

used to keep a diary in which he noted anything interesting he found on the planets he traded with. he was actually semi-organized with it, and even included some crude doodles of the organics he ran into. he stopped journaling once the war broke out, though, and hasn't journaled since due to fear of his diary being used as blackmail

answers questions like a politician. if u want a straight answer from swindle then good fucking luck LMAO. he doesn't like to go into detail about his past. it's all old news, anyway

he's a Beyonce fan. i feel it in my bones

puts effort into his image. granted his image got fucked over ever since he defected to the decepticons LMAO but the point is that swindle tries to make himself look better than he actually is.

surprisingly open-minded. he has to be. if he were to be openly xenophobic to the multitude of alien races he trades with, then his business would tank. besides, he's actually pretty curious about other worlds besides his own (ex; how he mentioned he spied on the human villains in the SUV episode, and thought their whole get-up was "exciting")

he hates hates HATES the cold. if he HAS to do business in a cold planet, he will bitch and complain about it the entire time except when he's in the negotiating room

when he was a young bot, swindle was pretty open book. that's not to say he didn't LIE back then, it just so happened that swindle was created with a super expressive faceplate, and you could always tell what swindle thought based on whatever look he was giving you. this got him into some...issues (dw he learned how to keep a poker face later on)

not the jealous type (how can he be jealous when he's the most wanted bachelor on cybertron?) but on the rare occasion that he IS, he gets real quiet. probably sulks to himself in a corner while sipping on some energon. if confronted, he'll brush it off but don't you doubt it for one second; he is PISSED

says he doesn't have any regrets or moral dilemmas about his job, but that's only half of the truth. swindle takes care not to give himself enough time to think about the past. it makes living easier that way. and swindle is a creature who seeks comfort, even if it inconveniences everybody else around him. don't try to call him out on this bad habit of his; he will huff and excuse himself by claiming you'd do the same thing too if you were in his shoes (or pedes?)

he does not like keeping living things in his subspace. he's made the mistake of storing a organic he thought was cute when he was younger, and it ended up with a trip to med-bay (surprisingly, organics don't like being in strange voids filled with nothing but weapons)

fantastic at detecting scams. he doesn't have a mod for it or anything, he just KNOWS

has a """"healthy"""" amount of paranoia. he claims he's just looking out for himself, given the kind of business he's in, but there's times where the paranoia really fucks with his health

really likes sprinkling those "infomercial phrases" into his daily speech. he thinks it makes him sound suave. thought he sometimes fucks up with the delivery and he just gives up mid-way lmao ("guard the prisoners...orrr loot the ship? it's a no process-...or? er? err..." - a direct quote from decepticon air)

he's mostly self-aware. the only thing he isn't honest about to himself is his own emotions

whenever he feels stupid stuff like "fear" or "stress" or (shudder) "remorse" he takes a look at his bank account. it helps him, in a weird way. because yes, he's an outlaw, and yes, he's technically gambling his and everyone else's life, and YES, there's days where he winds up battered and broken, barely an inch away from death, but...at least his efforts aren't for nought. they're adding up to something; with every corpse, swindle's wallet gets fatter. and with all that money in his servos, swindle might be able to buy himself the one thing cybertron can't offer him: peace

^ swindle thinks he deserves this. he delusionally believes he deserves peace and riches more than anybot

[lovelytsunoda]

christmas on the road // george russell

summary: all george wants for christmas is to get home to his wife and his son. unbeknownst to him, his wife has a little surprise in the from of two pink lines that's about to make his christmas that much sweeter.

pairing: george russell x wife! reader

warnings: pregnancy. other than that, just fluffy dad! george. his son's name is hudson charles russell :)

king's lynn, norfolk. december 24th, 11:55 PM.

the soft lights of the christmas tree were the only lights on in the room as y/n russell sat curled up on the large couch, watching the clock tick as she ran her fingers through her son's fine hair.

hudson russell had insisted on waiting up for his father, but traffic out of brackley had been terrible, and though george had left four hours earlier, he still wasn't back yet. it was a hell of a commute to make, but george was lucky enough that most of his work could be done remotely when required. hudson had fallen asleep two hours ago, his little head resting in his mother's lap.

he was looking more and more like george every single day.

she still remembered the day that she found out she was pregnant. she had been so scared to tell george. they were so young, and he was still has something to prove. his second season at williams, his first with a new teammate. the weight of the world was on his shoulders, and she hadn't wanted to add to that.

it had been a tough race. george had ignored everybody when he got back to the garage, including his girlfriend. she'd tried so hard to stop herself from crying as she watched his driver's room door click shut.

fuck the pregnancy hormones.

"georgie?" she'd asked softly, gently knocking on the door. "can i come in, love? i need to talk to you, and i want to know that you're okay."

the door creaked open slowly. george was sitting on the massage table with his head in his hands. "i can't do this any more, y/n. i can't hang around at the back of the pack, driving in circles all on my own. i'd rather admit defeat."

it hurt her to see him like this. she took a seat next to him, looking at the windowless white room that he'd somehow managed to make feel like his own for the weekend. "george, you can't give up just yet. it's been a rough few years, i know. but we need you."

"we?" there was confusion in his voice as he turned to look at her. "honey, what do you mean 'we'?"

"george, i'm pregnant."

time seemed to stop as george just stared at her. "you're what? but how? we were so safe."

"sometimes, things just happen, george. i don't know. but i do know that this baby wouldn't want their father to give up right now."

george turned around, taking her hands in his. she was starting to cry, and he hated that he knew he was about to make things worse, even though he didn't want to. "baby, i love you so much, and i need you to know that, because i need some time to myself to process this, and i don't want to say anything i might regret. but i need you to know, you and this baby, to know that you're so loved."

nine months later, hudson charles russell was born, and george had come straight from the racetrack to the hospital, leaving nyck de vries to run the qualifying session, sitting in an uncomfortable hospital chair, race suit around his waist as he held his son to his bare chest, trying his best not to cry.

they'd gotten married a year later. george had walked down the aisle holding hudson's hand, and charles had hudson on his shoulders for the entire ceremony.

and now, a small box covered in sparkling wrapping paper was waiting under the christmas tree. something that would change her life again, in the best way.

the door opened behind her, and she found herself waiting for george's traditional 'honey, i'm home' shout before she remembered that her husband probably assumed that both she and hudson were asleep.

"in the living room, hon!" she tried to shout it as quietly as she could, not wanting to wake the sleeping toddler in her lap.

george russell couldn't stop the smile on his face when he saw his wife on the couch, wrapped in her fluffy bathrobe, hair thrown up in a messy bun. and he smiled even wider when he saw his little boy curled up at his mother's side.

"hi, honey." george smiled, leaning in to kiss y/n. "why is hudson still up?"

"he just wanted to see his dad." she smiled, brushing a small strand of dirty blonde hair out of hudson's face. "do you want to tuck him in?"

y/n moved to stand up, hudson in her arms, when george stopped her. "i've got him, darling." george was quiet and careful, doing his best not to wake the small child in his arms. hudson stirred, wrapping his small, pudgy fingers around george's thumb.

it was still little moments like that that made the mercedes driver's heart swell. it was a feeling even better than his win in brazil the year prior. (lando had teased him relentlessly for mentioning hudson and y/n in his podium speech.)

y/n followed her husband upstairs, her heart filled with love as she watched george kiss his son on the top of the head. before she went up the first step, she ran back to the christmas tree.

the clock read 12:06.

it was officially christmas morning.

the grabbed the small box, slipping it into the pocket of her bathrobe before she turned back towards the staircase, tiptoeing over to hudson's room.

the little boy was lying in the middle of his racecar bed, a custom-built replica of his father's old williams f1 car. the soft blue sheets were pulled up over the two-year old's small body. george was laying next to hudson, comfortingly resting his hand on the toddler's back.

y/n watched from the doorway, wondering how she had gotten so lucky to have found george william russell. and how the two of them were about to get even luckier.

at the sight of his wife standing in the doorway, george sat up, pressing a quick kiss to his son's temple before he slowly got up from the bed, crossing the room and closing the door behind him.

"merry christmas, love." he smiled, pulling his wife in for a deep kiss on the lips.

"since it's already christmas morning, i have something for you." y/n beamed, passing her husband the box. "go on, open it, you muppet."

george laughed, still standing in front of hudson's bedroom door as he pulled at the wrapping paper. it was an old box from swarovski, and the driver gave it a confused glance before y/n whispered to open it.

he carefully opened the end of the box, his face scrunched up in even more confusion before the white plastic stick fell out of the open end, into his palm. he turned it over, his eyes opening widely as he saw the two pink lines.

"you're pregnant? we're having another one?" his shock gavev way to excitement, his grin splitting his features as he beamed at his wife. "i'm going to be a father again!"

"that's a much better reaction than last time." y/n laughed, wrapping her arms around the love of her life before she kissed him. "we're having another baby, darling."

"i love you so much." george whispered, on the verge of tears as he kissed the top of his wife's head. "merry christmas, y/n."

"i love you more, george william russell. merry christmas."

________

Tags: @magnummagnussen @daydreamingleclerc @flannel-cures @libraryofloveletters @sidcrosbyspuck @diorleclerc

[bumblesimagines]

Midnight Beach

Part 19

Request: Yes or No

Taglist: @nathan-no @hyubg @ash455   @gills-lounge

~~~

The sun hadn't risen yet, and the world around them had been reduced to a gentle blue that slowly lightened with each passing minute. Small goosebumps spread across his arms, skin cool from the early morning chill. He would've put on his shirt if a certain blonde hadn't taken it for herself sometime during the night. Sarah remained curled at his side with her head on his chest and arms loosely draped over his stomach, quiet snores escaping her.

His shirt looked bigger on her, with the hem reaching her bare thighs. The bikini top and shorts she'd been wearing the previous day rested beside them, covered in specks of sand and waiting to be put on again. He took in the silence around them, the feeling of peace and tranquility before the other Kooks began to rouse and he'd be forced to wake the girl. (Y/N) wondered what she'd say, and every thought surrounded regret. 

One of the nearby tents unzipped and he tilted his head, skin flushing with embarrassment and mild shame when he noticed Liv stepping out. She paused and stared at him through squinted tired eyes, and once she processed the sight of Sarah Cameron practically sprawled out over him, she shook her head in disappointment. He released a breath and carefully pushed himself up, his movements causing the blonde to stir and grunt quietly, head groggily lifting and brows knitting in disoriented confusion. 

"Get up, Sarah. We have to go home." (Y/N) told her gently, slipping from her grasp and standing up. He spotted Kelce's shirt half buried in the sand and picked it up from the ground, shaking it free of the sand and slipping it on. Not the best fit, but it'd have to do until he got home. He glanced toward the sun when it peeked over the horizon and sighed quietly, avoiding meeting Sarah's eyes as he walked around the bonfire in search of anything that any of them owned. 

"I think it's common sense not to fuck your ex, especially if they're in a relationship," Liv murmured as she stopped at his side, lifting her brows at him. His heart felt heavy at her words. He didn't particularly like John B and he knew for a fact the brunette hated his guts, but he'd never wish the pain of a partner cheating on anyone.

"I wasn't exactly planning on hooking up with her, Liv. It just... happened. I can't go back in time."

"You can't go back in time but you can definitely stop it from 'just happening' again in the future, (Y/N)! Listen, I'm sure Sarah is a great friend to you and the little shitbirds she hangs out with. I'm sure she'd do anything to help you if push comes to shove. But you can't deny that all she's done since meeting those shitbirds is cause you problems. Can't you see it? I mean, look at Kie! She was a good, hardworking girl on her way to being top of her class until she went back to them and now all her parents do is worry about her wellbeing because her life has gone downhill. I.. I don't want you to end up a high school dropout who's forced to live off his parents cause of a bad friend group and some shitty decisions. You're smarter than that." She gently cupped his forearm with her palm, the hardness in her voice giving way to a softer tone. Liv stared at him with all the concern and sweetness that she reserved just for him, just for her so-called 'brother from another mother', and gave his arm a squeeze. 

"Morning, ya'll," Topper's raspy, groggy voice called out from the nearby half-zipped tent. He clumsily unzipped the rest and staggered out, knuckles rubbing against his eyes and face scrunched up. Kelce's soundly sleeping form lied further within the tent, sprawled out and with a beer can resting idly next to his hand. Topper zipped the tent back up and stretched out his arms, grunting quietly and glancing around the messy beach until he caught sight of Sarah wiggling on her shorts. With eyes nearly bulging out of his head, he whipped around to look at (Y/N) with a slacked jaw. 

"Don't." (Y/N) hissed sharply and Topper's mouth clamped shut, stiffly nodding but the small grin he failed to wipe off his face told him the blonde would be bringing the topic up again. 

"So," Topper drawled and clasped his hands together, head turning in the direction of Sarah who pointedly refused to meet any of their eyes. "How 'bout we get ourselves some breakfast?"

The ride back to the mainland had been a deathly quiet one. With Liv nursing a growing headache, Topper frantically texting his angered mother, and the realization of what they'd done setting in for Sarah and (Y/N), none of the teens had much to say to each other. The boat eventually reached one of the many restaurants sitting at the edge of the water and Topper hopped out onto the wooden deck, making quick work of getting the boat secured. He seemed awfully upbeat and gleeful, unlike the sluggish Liv who followed him up the steps and into the restaurant. 

"God, I'm starving," Topper groaned, the heavenly smell of cooking bacon wafting through the air and making (Y/N)'s stomach rumble. Sitting down at one of the many unoccupied tables, Liv took one swift look over the menu before dropping her head down on the table, with enough force to make the silverware clatter. The typical theatrics of Liv.

"She's fine." (Y/N) murmured, running his eyes over the breakfast options on the menu, the hunger toiling in his stomach only growing. With all his attention focused on it, he hardly noticed the feeling of something brushing against his knee until it happened twice, thrice, and then one last time. He shifted in his seat and tilted his legs in the other direction. From the corner of his eye, he spotted Sarah glancing up at him, her eyes glimmering from the sunlight pouring in beside her and he raised the menu further to block her from view. 

"The eggs are so good here- Oh, and the french toast is fucking delicious." Topper spoke, as oblivious to the slowly forming tension as always, and continued rattling on and on about each of his favorite menu options until it began to sound like he favored all of them. (Y/N)'s lip twitched up in amusement and he exhaled softly, setting his menu down on the shiny wooden table and waiting for the waitress to pop by. 

"Shit." He heard Sarah hiss quietly and he tilted his head in her direction. Sarah's eyes peeked over the top of her menu and when they connected with his, she subtly nodded her head toward the front of the restaurant. His brows furrowed slightly at the panic in her eyes and he craned his neck to peer over his shoulder, easily spotting the familiar curly-haired brunette standing by the counter. Kiara flashed the girl at the cash register a polite smile as she braced herself against the counter and began surveying the room until her attention landed on the four of them.

Kiara's lips pulled into a small smile at first and her fingers lifted to wave before her brain processed the two kooks sitting beside them. Her fingers curled toward her palm and her brows lowered, head turning away from them to grab a box and to-go order. The deep frown on her face spoke volumes, and it'd been enough to get Sarah to rise from her chair. Her hand snatched the collar of (Y/N)'s shirt and gave it a tug, causing him to sigh heavily and follow her outside.

"Kie! Kei, please, wait," Sarah called out desperately and rushed down the steps to catch up with the fast-paced brunette. "We're just having breakfast. You should come join us."

"Breakfast?" Kiara repeated, stepping down into her father's boat and setting down the box. Her long braid whipped over her shoulder when she spun around to face them, brows lifting as her mouth formed a scoff. "Sarah, you're literally wearing (Y/N)'s shirt."

"Listen, I- I had nowhere to go last night, okay? John B and I- We got into a fight and I couldn't find anyone else to stay with. We hung out at Mase with Top and Liv. That's it. Nothing else happened, I promise." Sarah stuttered out an explanation and turned to him pleadingly, the pure desperation on her face doing little to tug on his heartstrings. 

"Nothing happened." (Y/N) echoed and Kiara's eyes narrowed. "Nothing happened, Kie. You don't have to worry about anything, I swear. I was actually wondering if I could bring Josie Bekkar to your parents' party. I'm sure she's already invited but I just want to double-check."

"Josie Bekkar? Wow, uhm, yeah. Go for it." The suspicion on Kiara's face dissipated in seconds and she quietly snorted under her breath, attempting to hide it by scratching the bridge of her nose. Sarah stared at him with furrowed brows and parted lips, her slightly widened eyes flickering between his. (Y/N) simply smiled and nodded toward the boat.

"You should go, Sarah. The Carreras were busy with family stuff, right? They'll probably appreciate some help setting things up. I'll drop your things off later." He casted Kiara one last glance before turning around and heading up back up the steps. Back to his real friends, his real family. 

                    ✽        ✽       ✽       ✽       ✽       ✽

"It's been so long since I've seen any of these people," Rachel muttered quietly as they strode further into the heart of the party. Mike and Anna's 15th anniversary, and they'd hosted a big party to celebrate their relationship and the return of their daughter. Rachel flashed her perfectly curated smile at anyone who glanced their way and heavily eyed the beverages offered for the adults. She swiped her hand over her son's arm and stepped away, approaching the Carreras with a wide, beautifully fake smile. His father, Joseph, rolled his eyes and (Y/N) began wishing he'd stayed home. 

"Thanks for bringing me." Josie, right. 

"It's no problem, Jo." He smiled and she giggled, flipping some hair over her shoulder and batting her eyelashes at him. Joseph grunted and muttered a quick excuse about getting food before slipping away toward the snack table. They couldn't even stay together as a family unit. (Y/N) exhaled through his nose and looked back at Josie with the same smile he'd inherited from his mother. "Thirsty?"

"Oh, yes. I'm parched." 

"I'll get us some drinks, then." He slipped his hand out of hers and made his way around chatting and dancing guests until he reached the table holding the punch bowl. He only had time to get one cup before Kiara appeared at his side, voice light and high-pitched as she laughed at something someone said, then turned to him with a grimace. She casually took the cup from his hand and drank from it, sighing heavily when she looked over the people present.

"I still can't believe you brought Josie Bekkar. I mean, I get it, she looks great. Just never thought you'd be into geeks like Pope." Kiara chuckled into the cup and tilted her head back to catch the last of the punch. (Y/N) resisted the urge to bring up her own relationship with Pope and instead shrugged, retrieving another cup and pouring punch into it. Sadly for him, slim fingers wrapped around the base of the cup and swiftly took it from him. 

"Seriously?" (Y/N) groaned and turned, breath nearly catching in his throat at the sight of Sarah. She smiled cheekily at him, lips glittering from the gloss she had applied, and sipped from the cup. Her typical straight hair had been curled at the ends, bringing out the fading blonde and the eye-catching brown roots settling in. She'd gone for a natural makeup look that suited her perfectly and wore the pretty yellow dress with white floral patterns he'd convinced her to buy ages ago. It stung, just slightly, to see her in it. 

"You look nice," Sarah said softly, twinkling eyes dropping down to the plain white button-up he wore. He hadn't gone for anything fancy, just a simple shirt, dress pants, and dress shoes. He'd mimicked his father in unbuttoning the first couple of buttons and rolled up the sleeves the minute he felt the heat of the evening. 

"You do too." He breathed and noticed Kiara's gaze flicker between them curiously. Sarah swiped her tongue over her lips and finished her cup, the previous pride on her face disappearing and replaced by a more serious look. She took in a deep breath and glanced over her shoulder for any nosy ears before stepping closer to them.

"Ward's on the island." She revealed quietly and Kiara's head shot up with widened eyes. (Y/N)'s posture stiffened. "He... He used Wheezie to send me a voice message. He gave me the key to a condo and a credit card."

"Ward's on this island? Like, the one we're on right now?" Kiara questioned, mouth agape and brows tucked in. First Rafe, who had luckily steered clear of the (L/N) house, and now Ward fucking Cameron. The dream of being home had soured into a nightmare. "Christ... I swear, the second I see him, I'm turning him in. I don't know how you deal with it, Sarah. I mean, every time I want to complain about my dad, I think about your guys' dad." 

"Glad to be of service." 

"So sweet of you to say, Kie."

"Anytime." Kiara grinned widely and bumped her hip against (Y/N)'s, pulling a small smile out of the teen. Sarah dug her teeth into her bottom lip as she gazed at (Y/N)'s face, watching his eyes meet hers and then flicker away while he finally poured himself two cups of punch. He glanced over his shoulder and she followed his line of sight, spotting Josie mingling with their neighbors and feeling a stabbing feeling in her gut. He turned back to them and opened his mouth to bid them farewell, but her hand shot out to grab his arm and stop him. 

"I need to talk to you." She said hurriedly, fingers lightly tightening around the fabric of his shirt. (Y/N) blinked at her, still clutching the two cups in his hands. The sound of mic feedback interrupted the music and drew their attention away from each other and onto the stage where Mike and Anna Carrera stood. Mike smiled awkwardly and chuckled into the mic. 

"Uhm, I just want to say a few words, and I'm not much into giving speeches, but I do want to say thank you for coming out and thank you for your support after a rough month. I want to say thank you to our daughter for being here. Hey... we love you. But most of all, thank you, Anna, for fifteen years, for making this restaurant a symbol of our life. I love you." Mike smiled widely at his wife, gazing at her with all the love in the world. Anna laughed and dipped her head bashfully before murmuring the words back to him. Mike slipped his arm around her and pulled her snugly into his side before addressing the crowd again. "Figure Eight, the Cut. Everyone's together here. As one island. So, thank you for putting up with us. Cheers." 

(Y/N) watched with unsurprising bitterness as Kiara strolled over to her parents with a smile. They embraced her eagerly and cradled her in their arms, looking at her as if she hung up the sun in the sky. Anna stroked her cheek affectionately and pulled her daughter in, tenderly kissing her forehead and giggling when Kiara squirmed in her arms and groaned. He hated the prickly feeling at the back of his eyes and forced himself to look away, raising one cup to his lips and wishing it'd been tainted with some alcohol. He slipped past Sarah and returned to Josie, quietly apologizing for the delay and taking a seat on the nearest empty chair. 

Pursing her lips, Josie rubbed her finger against the ridges of the cup. "I-I just have to ask, (Y/N). Are you and Sarah, like, over? I know you've been through a lot together and I know she's with that weird guy from the Cut but..." 

"We're not secretly together if that's what you're asking, Jo. You-" (Y/N) sharply inhaled and propped his arm up to rub his forehead. His eyes wandered around the party until he spotted Sarah speaking to John B. His jaw twitched, threatening to clench but he forced himself to relax. "I like hanging out with you, I do. But things are really complicated right now. I just... I need to figure some things out and I don't want to string you along." 

Could complicated even begin to describe the hurricane passing through this life? His parents, his new and past friends, the wild goose chases and the treasures, Sarah? Only a few months prior, he'd been a normal guy living a normal life. His only concerns were college and dealing with pompous assholes until the Pogues turned the tide, changed the course of his life, and set him directly on the path of a storm. Normalcy felt like a distant dream he wouldn't be able to attain. 

Before he could drown in an ocean of self-loathing and crippling thoughts, Josie gently tilted his chin up and smiled sweetly. "We can be friends. And my first duty as your new friend is getting your mood up before Liv gets here and thinks I'm an uncool Debbie Downer." (Y/N) snorted and allowed himself to laugh, graciously taking her hand and rising up from his seat. 

(Y/N) let himself enjoy the day, dancing with Josie and the others with a genuine smile on his face. Liv practically collapsed into his arms the moment she arrived and whined about the heels she wore, yet outright refused to take them off in the name of having a great outfit. Just as promised, Josie and his friends lifted his moods significantly and everything clicked into place. No danger, no running, no worrying for his life. Everything felt okay... up until he noticed Sarah chugging an unattended glass of wine with obvious tear streaks on her face. Christ, couldn't John B go a day without hurting someone's feelings?

"I'll be back." He murmured to Liv and pulled away from her side, already hearing the scolding she'd give him after the party. Swiping some napkins from a table, he approached Sarah and took the glass from her. She hiccuped softly and clumsily rubbed at her wet cheeks but her eyes remained watery with tears. He gently took her cheek and delicately dabbed at her cheeks, sighing softly. 

"I'm sorry." She whispered and the hot tears slipped from her eyes. "I ruin everything. I-I fuck everything up. God, why do you even bother with me?"

"Because I care about you, Sarah. I know you're a good person at heart." He answered and dropped his hands to his sides. Her lips quivered and she sniffled again, stumbling toward him and wrapping her arms around his waist. Her head leaned against his shoulder and she buried her face in his neck, her body easing its trembles as she took in his warmth and comfort. (Y/N) draped his arm around her shoulders, content with comforting her until the crying ceased. 

Glass shattered from behind him and they pulled apart to look, spotting a furious John B heading straight for them. Sarah quickly detached herself from him with a soft gasp and moved forward, quiet pleading falling from her lips as she met him halfway. Her pleading fell on deaf ears, however, seeing as he pushed her aside and gave (Y/N) a hard shove. He stumbled back and caught himself on the table behind him, a heat of anger washing over him.

"Fuck you, man." John B seethed. "I never once believed that bullshit nice guy act. You prance around here acting so great when you slept with my fucking girlfriend, you piece of shit!" 

"Guess you don't like getting a taste of your own medicine, huh? But I guess I shouldn't have expected less from a guy who parties while his 'girlfriend's grieving the death of her father. Real charming of you, John." (Y/N) spat back, maintaining his tone evenly and smoothing out his crinkled shirt with the palm of his hand. John B's jaw clenched and his eyes flickered around when the people around them began murmuring lowly. 

"I was giving her space!" He barked defensively.

"Did your friend give you space when you thought your dad died, asshole? No, they didn't. They stuck by you 'cause they're good people. You're just the guy who got lucky a pretty girl even spoke to him in the first place. You could learn a thing or two from Pope or J." (Y/N) liked the way John B's ears burned hot red with embarrassment and the Pogue let out a humorless, sharp chuckle.

"Of course, Mr. Perfect is lecturing me. Mr. Perfect who always knows what to say or do. Always cheers everyone up. Always has everyone wrapped around his perfect little finger. I bet you were just so perfect your parents couldn't handle it. Maybe that's why they left you alone all these years." The air escaped (Y/N)'s lungs and his shoulders deflated, the venomous words slithering around his brain. Sarah slapped John B on the arm and glared at him fiercely while Kiara hissed his name angrily. The disapproving looks sent John B's way turned pitying the second they moved onto him. Pity, always pity. He took in a breath and released it in a dry laugh. 

"Then, I guess you must be perfect too considering your mom skipped town when you were a baby. I mean, shit, you've gone missing like twice now and she hasn't even bothered showing her face around here. And we certainly can't forget daddy dearest 'cause fuck, I can't imagine leaving my son to deal with all my shit and not even caring enough to reach out. I think we ought to give him a Father of the Year award for that one, don't you think?" His lips curled up into a grin and John B pushed Sarah aside one last time to lunge for him. A mop of bleached hair stepped into view, arms shoving John B back before he could get close to (Y/N). Topper pressed a hand against (Y/N)'s chest and extended the other out toward the fuming John B.

"Let's all calm down, alright? There's no need to ruin Mr. and Mrs. Carrera's day with-" Before Topper could finish speaking, John B swung his fist and connected it with Topper's jaw, hard enough for Topper to stumble and trip over his own feet. Sarah shrieked John B's name but he refused to listen, the pure rage in his eyes deadset on the fallen Kook. Topper cradled his jaw and lifted his head only for John B to swing at him again, and again, and again. 

Breaking out of his momentary shock, (Y/N) darted forward and grabbed the back of John B's collar. He tore him off the unconscious Topper and while John B attempted to regain his foot, (Y/N) clocked him hard enough to knock him onto the grass with a low groan. Mike rushed in and pushed (Y/N) back as Topper's mother cradled her son's head in her lap and screamed for an ambulance to be called. (Y/N) moved to step toward John B again but Anna stepped in his way and grasped his arms.

"Baby, baby, no, that's enough." She urged softly, in the same tone she used on Kiara when she and her father argued. (Y/N) took in a couple deep breaths to calm his racing heart but his eyes watched JJ rush over and help John B up onto his feet while Mike shouted at them to get out and followed them until they left. Sarah stared at him helplessly and teary-eyed, the start of an apology forming on her lips but he turned away from her. 

[toc-the-elder]

I've spent a lot of time being a bit confused by posts by trans people talking about being worried they're faking it and not really trans.

And yeah. I get you now.

I was doing some casual research to find out when the earliest date I could apply for a Gender Recognition Certificate is (depending on what level of evidence they ask for), and for some reason, I had the thought of "Oh god, you mean I can't change it back?"

I don't know where this thought came from. When I interrogate my own thought process, and ask at what point I would like to detransition, I don't have an answer for myself. There is no point where I think existing as I was would ever make me happier than living as the woman I can be. I suppose the finality of the certificate is what scares me a little, but isn't that the point? Isn't the whole point to try and close up all the legal loopholes someone might use to treat me as anything but female? And why should the finality of the thing scare me? My whole transition has been a series of finalities. I have already endured and bloomed under final, permanent changes to my body. I have already declared myself to the world. I know in my heart of hearts that I desperately want and need my surgery. It's been perhaps my deepest personal desire my entire life. I have been fucking diagnosed with the trans disease.

I shouldn't be shocked at the finality of any of this. And the fact that I am gave me a bit of a wobble. Like what if I'm not really trans? What if all these years have been just some silly mistake or not really me or self-delusion or just talking myself into something and what if I go through with all of this just to regret it?

Well, the alternative is going back to how I was, and I know I already regret that. I know I'm wrong when I suggest to myself that I'm not really trans. Because as much as I hate the way the NHS medicalises transness, they are treating me for gender dysphoria, and I grow more comfortable with what I see in the mirror every day. They boil transness down to gender dysphoria, and I certainly experience that, and embracing my womanhood makes me experience it a lot less. I know that non-trans people probably don't regularly and invariably picture having their intimate experiences with a different genre of genitalia.

Sometimes I have a moment of doubt, but by every metric I can think of, I am trans, and thus a woman.

[questionableratatouille00]

ʜɪɢʜᴡᴀʏ ᴛᴏ ʜᴇʟʟ ᴄʜ. 5

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Summary: In an effort to get the two of you to bond, Tony Stark sends you and the ex-assassin Bucky Barnes on a road trip together. The problem? You hate each other. The situation? Two weeks in a car together. The reward: three days of a resort vacation. And the problem? He's kinda cute.

Warnings (Entire Series): Enemies-to-lovers, cursing, sexual tension, angst, fluff, crying, fighting, violence, chaos, mentions/talk of trauma, discussions of mental health, and potentially more.

Warnings: Enemies-to-lovers, cursing, sexual tension, talks of nightmares, eating and food, mentions of Bucky not doing so well, mentions of Bucky's trauma in general, and Bucky is probably written wrong. (Trying my best lmao)

A/n: Hi! So sorry that this came out later than expected, life is kinda kicking my ass right now. This chapter’s shorter than usual, but I wanted to at least put something out. I hope you enjoy!

||Part 4|| Part 5 || Part 6 (Coming soon!)

[Series Masterlist]

---------------------------------------------

𝑴𝒆𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒚 𝑳𝒂𝒏𝒆

🄳🄰🅈 3

You slept in the next morning, and Bucky didn't have the heart to wake you. Well, he did, but he felt bad for last night. He knew you were right. God, he knew. He regretted it. It was a stupid argument to even get into in the first place.

The two of you had a habit of getting into stupid arguments. Over little things, like you sitting in the chair he always sat in at the dinner table, or him eating the snack you were waiting to eat. Sometimes it was over bigger things, like who fucked up the mission, or who's fault something was.

He couldn't even remember half of them. He just remembered that he'd had them with you, and that you pissed him off. A lot. But even just for three short minutes last night, he thought otherwise.

"Who gives a shit?" Your voice echoed through his brain, and it felt like every other thought he could hear you again. As he got ready for the day, he heard it over and over again.

When you woke up, he waited patiently for you to pack up your things and get ready. Once you did, he took down both of the room keys as you loaded the truck. He let you drive this time, thinking that it was only fair.

“Remember when you first came to the tower?" You asked, eyes never leaving the road.

Bucky did remember. He remembered it clearly. He remembered Steve's reassurance every five seconds, he remembered the fear. He remembered staying holed up in his standard Compound bedroom. Nothing unique or special, no extra decorations. Cold and unwelcoming. He'd slept on the floor. He deserved it, he knew. The bed made him feel like he was sinking, anyway. Beds always made him feel like that. Even now.

He gave a simple nod as you continued.

"How long had it been? Since..HYDRA?"

"Two years." He'd been getting better, during those years. Kind of. He learned to make decisions again. He figured out an easy way to live. He didn't have very many memories back then. Newer, more recent HYDRA stuff. But then the whole Zemo thing happened, and it had basically reset the entire process. And then the memories hit. He knew for a fact that he didn't have them all, and he wasn't exactly sure if he wanted them.

You nodded in the driver's seat.

The car drive felt long. There wasn't much talking, which meant Bucky was left alone with his thoughts.

He remembered what it felt like, after Zemo had triggered the Winter Soldier. His mind was so used to operating knowing that those times had passed that once he was back, when he was Bucky again, his brain seemed stuck in that mindset.

Steve hated it when he said it that way. "You were always Bucky. You've always been Bucky. You're not a machine, Buck," he'd say.

He'd isolated himself from the team, terrified both of them and for them. He couldn't prove to himself that he wasn't some kind of monster, he couldn't prove that he wasn't a danger to the team.

Steve had treated him like he was made of glass, always being cautious and quiet and polite. Steve had introduced him to the others, who either quietly avoided him or pretended like he didn't exist past a simple 'hello'. Bucky didn't mind.

But you weren't like that. You treated him like he was just another guy, arguing and bickering with him. Sometimes he'd leave annoyed, other times he was glad that you didn't treat him like a glass vase.

Bucky didn’t mind that either.

---------------

You said nothing as you checked into two motel rooms. You couldn't get conjoined ones, so Bucky was just across the hall. The drive had been quiet. It was different, but a somewhat good kind of different. You hadn't argued, or bickered. You listened to your favorite playlist, and Bucky sat quietly.

Sleep came easily that night. You wondered if it was the same for Bucky.

---------------

🄳🄰🅈 4

It was not the same for Bucky. He'd been up half of the night trying to fall asleep. He hated nights like these. He had them quite often. Sure, they were annoying as hell, but he'd take them over a nightmare any day.

It was day four of the trip. That meant thirteen days left, and then the two of you didn't have to share a truck ever again.

“Let’s play a game. Or something.” You suggested. You were driving again, because you’d made it to the left side of the truck first.

“Like what?” Bucky questioned.

“Ever played twenty questions?”

Bucky shook his head. He hadn’t.

“The way Kate and I play it is that you just take turns asking questions until twenty questions have been asked. You can’t lie and you have to answer it no matter what.” You explained. Bucky nodded. It seemed simple enough.

“Okay. I’ll go first.” You decided. “Hm..are you left handed or right handed?”

This was an easy question. “I’m right-handed.” Bucky answered.

“That’s one question. Now it’s your turn.”

Bucky couldn’t think of a question. There were so many things he could ask, but he wasn’t sure what qualified as a good question. He could ask your favorite color, but would that be too basic? He could ask where you would want to live if you weren’t an Avenger, but would that be too personal?

“C’mon, it’s easy. First thing off the top of your head.” You encouraged.

“How did you meet Kate?” He decided on an easier question, at least to start the game.

“When Clint brought her to the Compound. She made a Shrek joke, and then it just kinda happened.” You explained. Bucky had no idea what a ‘Shrek’ was, but he just went along with it.

“What’s your favorite color?”

Before the war, before HYDRA, Bucky would’ve said blue. Sergeant James B. Barnes would’ve said blue. Blue like the sky on a sunny day, blue like the ocean on a tropical island far away. Blue like Steve’s eyes, blue like his sister’s favorite and nicest dress.

He still is that Bucky. Just..different, now.

“Pink.” He answered simply.

“Pink?” The way you echoed it wasn’t mocking, nor disbelieving. Bucky didn’t really know what it meant.

“Pink.” He nodded. Pink like the sweatshirts in the men’s section in stores, pink like the sky when the sun’s setting. Pink like Natasha’s old ballet outfit from the time where he trained Widows in the Red Room. There was no pink in HYDRA. He was sure of that.

The game continued, but parts of Bucky’s mind lingered on the subject. He had a favorite color. He was free enough and in control to have a favorite of something. And his favorite color was pink.

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