#chapter 13

[manga-meow]

[saffusthings]

second chances

mob boss! lando norris x reader

part thirteen: passenger princess

word count: 1.6k

warnings: none

twelve | thirteen | fourteen

The next morning, Lando pulled up to the curb outside her apartment building in a car that, by his standards, was modest. A sleek, black Audi RS5 — not one of his usual hypercars, certainly nothing that screamed money the way some of his other rides did. But still, he caught the way her eyes widened just slightly when she stepped outside and spotted it.

Noted.

She hesitated for a second, adjusting the strap of her bag on her shoulder before walking toward the passenger side.

“This is… a nice car,” she said as she climbed in, running her fingers lightly over the smooth leather interior.

Lando smirked as he pulled away from the curb. “Yeah? You like it?”

“I mean, yeah. It’s pretty.”

He chuckled. “Pretty isn’t usually how people describe it.”

She shrugged, glancing out the window. “I, uh, really don’t really know cars. Obviously. I mean, I’m sure you can probably tell. This one looks cool though.” A pause. “Fast, I’m assuming?”

“Very.”

She made a thoughtful hum, then—almost absentmindedly—reached for the seatbelt and clicked it into place a second time, as if double-checking that it was secure.

Lando raised a brow but didn’t comment. Instead, he stole a quick glance at her as they hit a stoplight. She looked reserved, like she was still trying to figure him out. 

Which, fair enough. He was trying to figure her out too.

“So...” he started awkwardly, drumming his fingers lightly against the steering wheel. “How’d you sleep?”

She made a face, lips pursing in mild contemplation. “Not terrible.”

“That’s not a good answer.”

“It’s not a bad one either.”

Lando huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “Guess I’ll take it.”

For a few beats, there was only the sound of the city waking up around them—traffic, pedestrians, the occasional honk of a horn. Then, casually, she asked, “Do you do this often?”

“Do what?”

“Drive your friends to class.”

You idiot, she mentally facepalmed herself. What kind of a question even is that? 

Lando smirked, eyes flicking toward her. “No. You’re the first.”

That seemed to throw her off. “Oh.”

He could practically see her debating how to respond to that, and for some reason, it amused him. He let the silence stretch a little longer, let her stew in it before adding, “You should feel special.”

That made her huff a quiet laugh, shaking her head. “I’ll be sure to brag about it to my classmates.”

Lando smirked. Yeah, he liked this. The slow push and pull of it. The way she wasn’t quite sure where to place him yet.

He shouldn’t be enjoying it as much as he was.

They fell into another brief silence, the kind that wasn’t entirely uncomfortable but still carried something clearly unfamiliar. She was still adjusting to him. He was still adjusting to whatever this was.

“So… you don’t drive or somethin’?” he asked, cutting through the quiet.

She shook her head. “Nope.”

“Why’s that?”

“Never got around to learning, I guess.”

Lando raised a brow, sparing a glance at her before switching lanes seamlessly. “Never?”

She gave a small, sheepish shrug. “I mean, I get the concept of driving, obviously. I just… never had the time. Or the skill, for that matter. Not my thing, I’ve learned.”

Lando clicked his tongue, amused. “You’re missin’ out, you know.”

“I think I’m surviving just fine without it.”

“Surviving,” he echoed. “But not thriving.”

That made her laugh. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll keep that in mind.”

Lando smirked, but there was something else in his expression—something bordering on curiosity. He didn’t know why, but the thought of her not driving was oddly... something. It made her seem a little more untouched by the world he lived in.

And for some reason, he liked that.

Before he could dwell on it too much, they pulled up near the university. He idled by the curb, glancing over at her.

She hesitated for a second before reaching for the door handle. “Thanks for the ride, Liam.”

He nodded. “Anytime.”

She lingered just a beat longer, like there was something else she wanted to say, but instead, she just gave him a small smile before stepping out.

Lando watched as she disappeared into the crowd of students, exhaling slowly.

He shouldn’t be doing this. She shouldn’t have let him.

But maybe she breathed a little easier with him around.

The first few drives were awkward in the way that new things always are. She didn’t quite know what to do with herself, and neither did he.

Lando had never been one for small talk, and she—well, she wasn’t exactly shy, but she was still guarded in that way people were when they weren’t sure what to make of someone yet.

So, at first, the car rides were quiet. Not uncomfortably so, but just enough to make the silence noticeable.

She’d fiddle with the strap of her bag or stare out the window, while he kept his eyes on the road, one hand resting lazily on the gear shift. He never pushed her to talk, and she never forced a conversation when there was nothing to say.

But then, gradually, things shifted.

It started small—little observations, little questions that didn’t seem to mean much on the surface. She learned that Lando wasn’t much of a morning person, but he hid it well. That he always had a coffee before heading anywhere, but he never really finished the whole cup.

One morning, she was fidgeting with the strap of her bag when she casually mentioned, “You drink a lot of coffee.”

Lando raised a brow, eyes still on the road. “You work at a coffee shop.”

“Yeah, but you don’t even get anything different. Always a spiced black coffee.”

He smirked. “And?”

She huffed. “And that’s… boring.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “It’s simple. Gets the job done.”

“You could at least try a latte. Maybe an espresso macchiato. Something.”

Lando gave her a sidelong glance. “Didn’t take you for a coffee snob.”

“I’m not! I just think it’s a waste to keep drinking the same thing over and over when there’s so much out there that you could try.”

“Right,” he drawled, but the next time he stopped by Brews & Books, he ordered a macchiato just to see the way she lit up in satisfaction. He pretended not to notice when she gave him a subtle, knowing smile.

One evening, after her shift, Y/N climbed into the car and sighed, tilting her head back against the seat.

“Long day?” Lando asked, pulling away from the curb.

She made a noise somewhere between a groan and a laugh. “You have no idea.”

“Try me.”

She huffed but didn’t hesitate to launch into a story about a particularly difficult customer, waving her hands for emphasis as she spoke. Lando listened, offering the occasional smirk or amused hum, but mostly, he just let her talk.

“Some guy came in today and asked if we had any books on taxidermy.”

Lando glanced at her, amused. “And?”

She huffed, slumping slightly in her seat. “And I don’t know why we do, but we actually had two.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “You sound distressed.”

“I am distressed. Who’s coming into a cozy book café and thinking, ‘You know what I need? A book about stuffing dead animals.’”

Lando smirked. “Hey, at least they’re reading.”

She shot him a look, and he found himself biting back a grin.

She rolled her eyes at him before exhaling dramatically. “Anyway. That was my day.” Turning her face to see him better, she added, “How was yours?”

Lando arched a brow. “You want to hear about my day?”

She shrugged. “I mean, you always listen to mine. Fair’s fair, no?”

He could’ve given her a lie—could’ve made something up about a business meeting or a gym session. 

Hmm, let me think: drug deals, a back alley brawl, and a private execution all in time for dinner with my gang of co-criminals.

Instead he settled on, “S’alright. Nothing special.”

She gave him a look. “Boo. That’s vague.”

“That’s the point. Obviously,” he deadpanned, the ghost of a smirk upturning the corner of his lips. Y/N rolled her eyes, but smiled anyway.

The rides kept happening. Sometimes he’d show up unannounced after her shift, sometimes he’d send a text a few minutes before her class let out. It wasn’t always planned, but it was consistent. And that was what mattered.

He learned that she liked the window down, just a crack, no matter how cold it was outside. That she was a little clumsy when she was tired—nothing dramatic, just small things like fumbling with her seatbelt or nearly dropping her phone when she got in the car.

One evening, after picking her up from a late shift, he noticed the way she rested her head against the seat, eyes slipping shut as soon as they hit the first stoplight.

“You can sleep, you know,” he said, keeping his voice casual. “I won’t let you wake up in a ditch.”

She smiled sleepily. “That’s reassuring.”

But the next time she was exhausted, she actually let herself drift off.

It was subtle, the way things softened between them.

She started greeting him with a tired but genuine smile in the mornings, a quiet, “Hey, Liam,” as she settled into the car.

He started recognizing when Y/N was in a mood—when she was stressed about school, or irritated about something that happened at the shop. He never asked directly, but he’d say things like Long day? or You wanna grab a coffee before I drop you off? and she’d answer without thinking, without that usual hesitation.

And Lando… Lando didn’t quite know what to make of it.

Because he didn’t do things like this. He didn’t let people take up space in his life if they weren’t necessary, and yet here she was.

And somehow, it didn’t feel like an inconvenience at all.

a/n: was this too boring?

[theghostoficarus]

Hehe read the new chapter and I LOVED IT! Made this when I finished reading it >:D

[kayray-amazing12345]

@morningstarwrites nifty fanart Of Saints and Sinners! Nifty if this chapter was just 🤌🏼💅

She's so cute. I almost cried at the end of chapter 16

This took me so long, it's ridiculous 😭

Of Saints and Sinners chapter 13 fanart

[lazyaraa]

I imagine MC being a literal bird and Ellis keep feeding her when Jude said this.

[thedenofravenpuff]

Celebrating new chapter in @kuuchaos's fic on AO3, by drawing Nexus from a scene in chapter 13.

Been wanting to draw Nexus proper for a while and finally had enough inspiration to get something down.

So here be the boi!

Enjoy!

The Roan RPG Project Leave a Tip on Ko-Fi

[erinwantstowrite]

gotta let y'all know

I went back and edited a portion of the end of chapter 13. I was having a hard time writing chapter 14 and realized that something in chapter 13 must be the cause, and sure enough, the very ending had a part that didn't sound, like, correct. To me, at least. It made sense at the time, but now?

So I reworded that part so it's more clear. I should have noticed it earlier but it slipped past me. It's not really that big a deal, but I still wanted to let y'all know.

If you don't want to go back to chapter 13 to try and find it (reasonable), here's the New and Improved version:

[every-sebastian-michaelis]

[thoughtsaboutshows]

LPP Chapter 13 Snippet!

It's probably time we hear from Xaden again...

“Hey I’ve decided what I want your wedding present to us to be.” Ridoc smacks the back of hi hand on my bicep. I slowly and annoying drag my attention from where Violet has her head thrown back in laughter to look at my cousin’s groom, knowing that if Violence saw me ignoring my future cousin-in-law she’d be upset. And I am done being the reason Violet is upset. “You mean other than paying for everyone’s bungalow and the boat ride that I didn’t even go on?” The entire sentence comes out as a tired sigh but Ridoc doesn’t seem to notice. In fact it only makes his smile widen, like riling me up is the best part of this whole conversation.

“You and Vi need to recreate the beach scene from Mama Mia.” He nods vigorously as I raise my brows because, yes while I’ve seen the movie, it takes place on a Grecian island. Nearly every scene is a fucking beach scene. “You know the one with Sophie and Sky? They sing Lay All Your Love-” “No.” I interrupt because one, I don’t fucking sing. And two…if I did it wouldn’t be to some musical just for Ridoc’s amusement. “Figured you might say that.” Ridoc says with a knowing sigh of his own, gazing at the rest of my friends adoringly. “Which is why I have Garrick as my backup.” “If you think Imogen is going to do that shit-” I can’t hold back my snot but its his turn to interrupt me. “Oh no, no, no, Xaden, I’m not asking Imogen. She’s scary.” He smiles conspiratorially as he rubs his palms together. “Garrick and Violet are going to do it.”

[pickleking8]

13 - Adoption Isn't All It's Cracked Up To Be - Chapter 13

Word Count: 1258

Ao3 Link

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Daniel Fenton was a very unlucky boy. That was an established fact. Quite frankly, Danny found himself inclined to agree with that fact, given the overall trend of his life. Or, at least, that’s likely what he would think, if he wasn’t preoccupied at the moment. 

The buzzing was quieter, now. After weeks of sitting, watching day turn into night and into day again through the gilded bars on his window, feeling the worms that were crawling behind his eyes, the rot, the decay that settled into his bones and made them brittle, the dust that settled like a fine layer of moss dotting his skin, turning his eyelashes gray with sediment. Blood bubbled and flowed, sluggish as ichor, tainted green instead of proper gold. 

They tried. Oh, they tried so hard to act as if they cared, to act as if they were concerned with the way he grew still and silent, the blankets beneath him sewn to his skin. They brought him food, and drink, and shook him and yelled at him and cried at him, calling him a falsehood all the while, all as if they had not spread the spores of the very rot that consumed him, as if they did not breathe tainted air from their putrid mouths that was too hot, too close, too warm and alive and encompassing, as if those embers didn’t fly, didn’t crawl their way under his skin and turn his insides soft and pliant, old with apathy. As if. 

All the while, as the decay found its way into every crack and crevice of his broken body, his mind sharpened, his anger grew, as did the pool of ectoplasm, that power, filling up his core bit by bit, by bit, by bit. Drops in an ocean. 

It had been weeks. His core was almost full, he was almost there. 

Tonight, I’ll be ready, he thinks, slowly, not sure whether it’s a fact, a truth said without hesitation, or something he’s trying desperately to convince himself of.  He smiled, finally, a crooked and tiny thing, and blinked, and dust trickled off his cheeks and eyelashes, to join the layers turning his lap grimy and gray. 

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Jasmine Fenton was not an angry person. At least, that’s what people said. No, she was kind, and smart, and “going great places” and “not like that brother of hers”. 

In reality, Jasmine Fenton was very angry. 

See, here’s the thing about anger, that many people don’t know, because many people (luckily, luckily, how lucky they are) haven’t had the need to be angry, the need to snarl and fight and rage, the need to protect themselves, their friends, their families, from anything and everything. 

Anger boils, that’s the thing. 

In fact, it frothes, and bubbles, and goes over the pot, spilling onto the countertop and sink, making flames splutter and fizzle and pop, and making them angry too. Anger fills you up and then spills out, from tear-laden eyes and biting words from a worried mouth. Through the fingertips, often, harsh patterns wearing their way into the countertop or doors slammed shut or nails digging into palms. 

Aconite’s palms are rough now, calloused, from weeks of lit fires and swung pipes and drawn guns, weeks of fingernails, glass-edged, cutting into already-broken flesh. 

Aconite, Jazz thinks, holds the anger that spills out of her. Aconite utilizes Jazz’s anger, methodises it, makes it much more useful. Makes it a weapon, a sword, steel tipped and fire forged, and a shield as well, solid and sturdy and holding everything else at bay. 

Aconite’s anger makes her eyes sharp and cold, makes the purple in her suit glow a sickly, deadly shade, makes her fires spread far and fast.

….Her ears still rung, from the screams, the fire, or the anger, she didn’t know which. 

Whatever. 

Danny’s still gone. GIW are still standing. The pot’s still boiling over.

Aconite is made of anger, and anger makes Aconite. 

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Danny stands, joints creaking as if predicting the biggest hurricane of the century, dust falling like a cape from his shoulders, different bits of decay seeping from his skin, his bones, and falling to the floor. His neck pops as he turns to look at the clock, small red numbers blinking back at him, declaring it to be just after three am. Witching hour, he’s strongest now, power surging up like high tide. 

He looks at the bars, eyes the barest hint of rust peeking through the gilding of paint. The iron would hurt to phase through.

He goes through the wall instead. It’s an odd sensation, it always is, as if he was weightless, deep in an ice-cold lake, the pressure of the water compressing him tightly from all sides. It should have been claustrophobic, but it wasn’t. Instead, it felt like an expanse, like open sky on top of a mountain, or ocean stretching for miles. Like he could go anywhere, despite how small the enormity of it made him feel.

Frankly, Danny was perfectly fine with going anywhere, as long as it wasn’t here. On the other side of the wall, now, he makes use of the bars, gripping them tightly as he prepares to fall. Ready, this time, not haplessly dangling, but with feet planted firmly against the wall, and a body tense: ready to twist and turn and deliver him safely to the ground. Concentrating, his form flickers, sputters, a candle on the verge of fading, before he winks away from sight all together.  

His feet squelch as he lands in the mud below, toes digging into the earth, and he feels tethered for the first time in weeks. For too long he was simply drifting, but now, as the soles of his feet feel twigs and dirt, and his fingertips touch over a veined and lumpy leaf, he cannot help but feel hope surge in his chest, in his core. 

No time, go, run, RUN, and his hope spurs his body into action, taking off across the lawn, perfectly trimmed grass ripped out and destroyed in his wake. He sees the wall, overgrown ivy tumbling down it, grabs the fuzzy tendrils and hauls himself over. 

Keep running. Just keep running. 

Feet pound against asphalt, bare, turning bloody as the sharp crags of Gotham’s streets take their toll. He checks his hand, and sees nothing but the grimy street below it. Invisible, still. Good.

Farther. You have to go farther. FARTHER. 

Heaving, laboured breathing, even though he doesn’t need it. Air filling his lungs too fast, too sharp, before being expelled even faster. Choking on the cold atmosphere. 

The facts, Danny, focus on the facts. That’s nitrogen, oxygen, and argon you’re suffocating on. 

He’s flickering again. Shit. Shit.

There! An alley. Inconspicuous, dark, filled with debris. He turns, quickly, hitting his shoulder on the wall and flashing into sight before pulling the wash of invisibility back over himself, ducking behind some overfilled, slimy dumpster. 

He sits against the wall, panting silently, listening. 

…Nothing. 

No shouts. No footsteps. No menacing calls. Not even a whisper carried on the light, chilly breeze. 

He did it. I did it. He’s out. I’m out!

Relief washes over him, cascading down, and he feels cleansed, the rot, debris, and decay slowly trickling away. 

Throws his head back. Sighs, just a small huff of air, before falling backwards into the space between the inner and outer wall of the brick building he had leaned against. 

He lies there, in the darkness, staring up into the void. 

Free.

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Taglist: @tkiesai, @simplestoryteller

Hey, everyone! I know it's been a while since I updated, and I honestly don't have an excuse, it just felt like nothing I wrote was good enough, so I kind of abandoned it. I wasn't planning on updating again, sort of ever. However, several lovely people left comments on the last chapter, expressing how much they would enjoy an update, and it prompted me to go back and look at my docs. It turns out I actually really like what I'd written for this chapter, so I decided to finish it out and post it! I can honestly say that I'm feeling much more invested in the story again, so perhaps this will lead to me actually finishing it. Though I think I've said that every time I update, so ya know. We'll see.

Anyway, I hope that you guys like this chapter! I was really inspired by the book 100 Years of Solitude for the tone of the first bit of the chapter, and it was fun to try out that sort of style. The last part of the chapter intentionally was made up of shorter, choppier sentences to try and evoke Danny's stream of thought as he's running and make it a bit more immersive/real, but idk how that came across. I also tried to include a lot of callbacks to the first couple of chapters, I thought it would be a cool full circle sort of thing. Overall, I had a lot of fun writing this, and I hope you guys enjoyed it! Thank you for reading!

[ksbbb]

Love is a Twisted Dance of Shadows

Is it dark if he wants to be in the shadows with Theo?

Is it really a form of darkness if he likes the way it feeds him, calls to his soul, and gives him a high that’s a thrilling experience of tantalizing pleasure.

“Such a good wolf.” Theo smiles, pleased by his pupils blown wide, in a quiet daze of bliss, the only thing left to think about is how badly he needs to get off.

Rated E

Chapter 13

Moodboard by @thiamsxbitch

[manga-meow]

[everyakipanel]

Chapter 13: Gun Devil

[paynomindtotheinsanity]

Zim: *forces Dib to drink his blood*

Dib: *feral vampire mode activates and he gets violent*

Zim: 😦

[small-wha]

[devoting-waters]

Salt Pearls - Chapter 13

"Let Poseidon keep his mortal!" Apollo said with a shaky voice. "He did something that none of us gods have done. Or perhaps, none of us could do. You keep our actions under your heel, making sure we follow every divine rule. Do you want to guess what we end up with? Nothing! I had to turn my beloved mortal Hyacinthus into a flower just to keep him close to my heart! Because I had killed him, and I couldn't bring him back." Apollo lifted the purple flowers that he always kept in his air, clutching at them as if it was the only thing keeping his head up.

Tears pricked his eyes, and it was obvious from how the light flickered across his golden eyes. He almost felt his body crumble into the seat again, holding the flower that was forever stained with the blood of his lover.