#checking gatherer: pretty good apparently

[actual-sleeping-beauty]

The thing that's bothering me with people saying the Bad Kids didn't even try to reach out to the Rat Grinders and just started indiscriminately killing them is that THEY DID.

Like, sure Wanda Childa originally started as a bit so that Fig could gather Intel on Ruben. But the whole dream sequence and faking Wanda Childa's death outside Ruben's house was to persuade him to abandon the Rat Grinders. It's not Fig's (or Emily's!) fault that it didn't work. But she was desperately trying to get a read on that kid throughout the whoooooole season.

The Bad Kids have been doing insight checks on Kipperlilly the whole season and getting NOTHING. Even with pretty good insight checks they were just getting, "this is a very fake person." That coupled with the fact that Kipperlilly appears to have come up with the plan to dig up Eugenia's grave to get her automatic A before she got rage-starred, what exactly were they supposed to do with her?

And when it comes to Buddy Dawn, my goodness. Kristen has given that kid endless amounts of her patience and kindness when he has not earned it. He hasn't necessarily earned her ire, but he hasn't earned her kindness. And yet, the first thing she did when he got killed was try desperately to find a way to resurrect him, despite the fact that members of her own party would maybe need that higher spell slot later. The first thing Kristen did after getting to the gym? Insight check on Buddy Dawn to see whether he had actually bought into this. Kristen can't help that Ally, the player, rolled a Nat 1. It's not Kristen's fault. But up until the very last, Kristen was trying to save him, because she sees herself in him.

Sure, with Ivy, Oisin, and Mary Ann no one tried very hard to get a read on them. But also I feel like we didn't see them much. And the Bad Kids did try at that first party to figure them out, they just rolled poorly. As Brennan put it, the dice have been on the Bad Kids' side, not on the side of the story he had prepped to tell. And that's fine! The dice are the uncontrollable element of DND! But you can't get mad at the Bad Kids for not trying when they have, in fact, been trying all season to get a read on these kids and just totally whiffing every time.

Also, people are apparently getting mad at the cast too? Which, 1, this is not your game and these are not your friends, so leave them alone. And 2, Ally said this episode that they felt "blackout drunk" driving home, which I am assuming is from exhaustion given the filming schedule mentioned in (I think) episode 17. These people are exhausted and running on fumes. As actual human beings they are likely struggling with concentration etc. and they should all be given some slack.

[redflagshipwriter]

Hot Ghouls in Your Area

Chapter 1

“A cult?” Jason blew out a bubble and enjoyed the disgusted face that Bruce made.

“Yes.” His voice was tight. Jason could tell that he wanted to turn back to the Batcomputer. “They’re operating in Park Row-”

“Crime Alley.”

Batman sighed and accepted the correction. “I would like to propose a joint operation.” He sounded so tired and not very optimistic.

Jason eyed up his on-again-off-again Father figure and popped his gum, thinking it over. Bruce clearly expected him to say no, fuck off, and take the information himself.

He could. There was nothing wrong with that.

“Sure, old man.” He clapped Bruce on the shoulder and finished screwing together the tool he’d brought in for maintenance. He’d had to fabricate a new part and the Red Hood didn’t exactly have the equipment for that in his two room apartment. “Thursday night alright?”

“They’ve a planned meeting on Wednesday, actually,” Bruce said, frowning slightly at him but looking soft around the eyes with confused hope. “Would that be possible? They seem to gather mid-week.”

Jason let out a sigh. “I can make it work. Ta, old man.” He made sure to toss off an especially insouciant salute as he sauntered away. Sure, he was willing to put a little effort into maintaining their relationship, but he couldn’t be too compliant. If you gave Bruce an hour of your time, he wrote you down on the schedule for an hour every day until one of you fuckin’ died in a warehouse explosion. Something like that.

He wasn’t that trusting, though. Jason took the information that Bruce emailed him and did his own legwork. He wasn’t stubborn enough to bother redoing digital work that Bruce had done or gotten from Babs. That would be a waste of his time, and he valued his time. But he scoped out the cult’s meeting place.

Of all the undignified things, it was a rented room in the community center. Jason found himself sheepishly breaking into the office to check on the reservation and poking around the room itself.

There was nothing special about it. It was a shitty room with shitty paneled walls and cheap, well-trodden grey carpet. It boasted a few too many tables, arranged in a U shape, and a whiteboard pushed up against the wall that hadn’t been cleaned off well enough to erase what he was pretty sure was a reference to their lord and savior, destroyed of worlds.

So. That was a point for Bruce’s cult thing.

He hadn’t really doubted it, if he was honest, given that this had originated in a tip from Zatanna. She had told him as a courtesy that some creep had moved their base of recruiting and operations into Gotham.

Apparently, recruitment was going pretty well. The room could seat like, twenty? Jason counted chairs and left.

He came back on Wednesday at 8pm with the Batman and an attempt at a good attitude. He probably wasn’t going to need any of the weapons on his person. They were going to check in so that this guy knew they had an eye on him and that he would be suspect number one if there was any hint of people or cats being sacrificed.

Bruce fucked off to peer in the windows, like the giant caped creep he was. Jason took the front door, nodded congenially at the old man in the office, and knocked at the room the cultists had reserved.

He could hear Bruce internally curse through the comm. It was silent, of course, but the quality of the silence changed. “Knock knock,” he called, since a literal knock hadn’t done it. He opened the door without waiting. “Just checking in, heard you’re new to town and that you tried to feed Zatanna’s shitty little cousin to the god of Death?”

The room stared at him. A whiteboard marker squeaked to a stop. He idly followed the sound to the board. A …. Huh. that looked like some kind of mystical bullshit.

“You’ve been touched by death,” said the fraud himself, a man in his fifties with a wildly pretentious robe that was wrinkled from the paper bag he’d clearly used to carry it in. He outstretched the hand that didn’t have a blue whiteboard marker in it. “You would be a perfect sacrifice to our Lord.”

“So will it be,” said about half the people there, at the same time a young woman said, “No shit?” in an impressed tone.

Jason rolled his eyes through the helmet, unintimidated by the room of weirdos standing up. The kind of people who gathered at a community center on a Wednesday night were not going to summon the God of Death. Light glinted off the window where Batman was clearly weighing the possibility of breaking glass and swinging in. Jason silently waved him off with a headshake. They weren’t to the point of property damage yet. He took a couple of steps into the room with deliberate swagger. “What a lucky guess,” he drawled. “The Red Hood has had brushes with death? No one but a legitimate prophet could possibly make such a statement.”

“I’m not a prophet,” said the man, and turned back to his white board. “I’m a devote.” He rubbed out a line with the meat of his hand and then hurriedly wrote in ‘The Red Hood’ in a tilted cursive. “The sacrifice!” he shouted, throwing his arms wide and accidentally making a big blue line through his evil little sigil or whatever it was. The elderly lady to Jason’s right opened up her bag, thrust her hand in, and came up with a fistful of -

“Salt?” Jason asked, confused and unimpressed as the silly twit threw her handful of salt at him. “Thanks, I’m better seasoned now,” he snarked. He pulled out a gun easily. “Alright, let’s get serious. I-”

The whiteboard was glowing. The blue letters were glowing green.

“What the fuck?” Jason said. The windows exploded with broken glass as Batman decided now was the time to make his entrance. He barely got to see it before something hooked unpleasantly on his body and soul and twisted it sideways.

The world was green now. Holy shit. Jason spun a circle on uneven ground and gaped. “...Egg on my face,” he said. “I’ve been sacrificed. Consider me embarrassed.” A quick check showed that his comm was useless. It was giving off a steady little eeee of static that kinda sounded like screams. Whimsical. Jason turned it off.

He wasn’t panicking yet. The void wasn’t that freaky. It was weird, sure, but there weren’t any demons or enemies. He flicked the safety off his favorite gun just in case and frowned into the darkness.

It was like he was standing under a spotlight with no light source. There was ambient lighting in all directions, but the world faded into darkness only a few dozen feet away. He took some experimental steps to determine that, yeah, the field of visibility traveled with him.

Well. Time to get moving. Jason walked. There was nothing for the first - hour, he was gonna call it an hour. He got antsy and started jogging. The green stretched on, placid and infinite in a way that was really starting to piss him off. “Hey!” Jason barked into the void. “Anyone there?”

There was an answering electronic whirr. He stopped in his tracks. Jason looked in every direction, including up, and only saw the fucking thing when it was basically on top of him.

The vehicle was probably most equivalent to a spaceship, he decided, as what was probably a 3-man craft at most parked. The top clicked. It opened from the top and someone bounded out. “Hey!” came an annoyed male voice. “What’s the deal, bud?” The stranger landed in front of Jason with crossed arms and a pissy expression. His white hair floated above his head as if he was the little fucking mermaid in the ocean.

Jason scowled, the back of his mind cataloging the other guy’s outfit as pristine and undamaged and his musculature as athletic. “What’s it to you?” he asked, defensive. He didn’t know if it was safe to give information to this guy. “I might be a little lost,” Jason conceded.

“A little lost,” the guy repeated, and then- okay, he flew in a weird little flippy circle, scowling all the while as Jason gaped. “A little lost.” He scoffed. Then he let out a sigh that made his whole body look smaller. He uncrossed his arms and ran a hand through his hair. “This is a weird question,” he said, making it sound more defensive than apologetic. “Did you uh.” He scowled, like the words were distasteful. “Look,” he tried again. “Are you delulu, or did you get caught up as the sacrificial bride? I told Frank to knock that shit off.”

Sacrificial bride. Jason felt his brain go offline for a moment. Say what now.

“Helloooo,” the… was this rando a god of death? He was impatient. He flew way up into Jason’s personal space and snapped his fingers. “Someone just smashed metal trash bins together at my grave to get my attention, basically. No, it’s more like one of those spam pop ups that says there’s hot girls in your area?” He made a gesture at Jason. “Only it’s loud. It’s ringing in my ears, and I had to come track you down. Do you think this is funny?”

“...Sacrificial bride?” Jason finally managed to croak out.

Weirdly, this made the other guy relax immediately. “Just found out, huh,” he said, sounding much more sympathetic. “Yeah, okay, we need to sort out a spiritual divorce immediately. And then you can go home and there will be no more hot girls in my area and I can get back to my ess- my work.”

Jason took a few moments of grief and confusion to accept his apparent status. “We’re married?” he said weakly.

The white haired man looked a little sheepish. “Marriage is probably not quite accurate,” he said, and Jason felt a little bit of relief before the guy continued, “It’s more like you’re my concubine?” He sounded mortified by this. “I didn’t want this!”

“No, no,” Jason said, meaning both that he believed it and that he needed this conversation to change directions immediately. “I- who are you?” He gestured at his– what the fuck was the other side of a concubine relationship? King was the associated word that came up, but that…

“I’m nobody, really,” said the white haired man weakly. “But I may technically be King of ghosts or whatever. The Infinite Realms.” He scratched at his face. “So… yeah.”

They stood in utterly mortified silence for a long moment before he seemed to remember something. “You can call me Danny,” he offered.

“...Call me Jason,” he said.

“Thanks, Jason,” Danny said genially. “So, uh, this is a mess, right?” He started floating away backwards. “I’m going to hunt down my mentor and advisor and get some uh- advice, I guess. Do you wanna come with? Or should I come back and check in once I’ve heard from him?”

Jason weighed up his situation, the conventional wisdom about getting in vehicles with strange men, and wondered how useless his gun was going to be in this situation. Danny had never reacted to it being pointed at him, so his guess was ‘utterly unhelpful’. He put it away. “I’d like a ride, thanks,” he said dryly.

They made some stilted conversation on the ride. Danny was clearly trying to hold back and give him no identifying information. That was fascinating, because it implied that there was something Jason could do from the human world to track Danny down. It was also reassuring because there was no reason to withhold information if he’d planned to keep Jason prisoner, so, ya know, that was a good sign.

Anyway, Jason got a lot of information from Danny.

Danny was a terrible liar and he misspoke like, all the time. Jason was pretty sure he was in the ghost equivalent of school, like college or something. He talked like someone in Jason’s age group would, so he’d probably died very recently. Maybe he had been a college student when he’d died and he just hadn’t given up on that degree yet, honestly. Jason managed to drag the conversation around to education. He got nowhere with asking about literature but he hit the jackpot with science. Danny was still babbling about a telescope when he landed the …ship outside of a wonky clocktower.

Jason took off his safety belt and froze in his tracks when Danny absently stopped him with a cool hand. Jason looked down at that hand.

“You had better stay here,” Danny said. He shook his head slightly. “Clocky doesn’t like everyone.”

He melted into the chair as if he had never wanted to get up. “Alright,” Jason said.

Danny was out of the spaceship by the time that Jason realized something was very wrong with that interaction.

He hadn’t decided to sit down. He hadn’t wanted to sit back down. Did- did he actually think it was reasonable to stay behind, or would he have argued and gone in normally?

‘...I think Danny did something.’ Suspicion swirled in his gut. Jason tried to take the safety belt off and stand up. He couldn’t. It was like his muscles wouldn’t respond to it.

Well, that was pretty fuckin’ evil. His pulse picked up in his throat. It… It was some kind of compulsion? He had to do what Danny told him to do? That was really fucked up. He was starting to feel really unsafe now. He wished he’d hung back with Bruce. He wanted someone to bring him home. And weirdly, he felt betrayed. He hardly trusted Danny, didn’t know the fucker well enough to, but he hadn’t gotten that impression off the guy–

‘It wasn’t him,’ Jason realized. ‘It was the binding ritual. Danny said it wasn’t like a marriage, it’s not equal. That’s why I did what Danny wanted me to do.’

Well. Well then. If Danny didn’t know that Jason had to follow his orders, Jason was most fucking certainly not going to spell it out for him. It was a grim calculation to make, but it seemed the safest. As it was, Danny seemed to want to get rid of him as fast as possible.

So that was it. He’d play along and get Danny to spit him back out into Gotham, a young hot divorcé free on the streets.

[on-a-lucky-tide]

Price prepares for his first date with Nik. 141 rib him.

CW: none.

Price stared into the mirror above his sink and wondered when the fuck all those lines on his face had arrived. Last time he’d looked, he could have sworn there were fewer, and there had been no grey either, but now he saw traces of his old man in the reflection and that made his stomach twist unpleasantly.

In all fairness, he didn’t really have much reason to look–really look–at his own face. Even when he was smearing camo around his eyes and down his cheeks, he was only looking for areas of shine that might draw an enemy’s eye. He never really considered why else someone might be lookin’.

Why Nik might be lookin’.

“Bloody hell,” he breathed as he began gathering up his shaving bowl and the badger-fur brush he only got out on special occasions; medal ceremonies, weddings, funerals and now, apparently, bloody dates. Why the fuck he had even agreed to it in the first place he had no idea, but Nik was surprisingly romantic given what Price knew about the rest of his life, and it was difficult to say no when he turned on those eyes. The word ‘no’ felt like booting a Labrador in the face.

Price stashed his shaving kit away and turned back to the mirror to check the rest. He had been pretty sure the shirt he had scrounged from the bottom of his paltry wardrobe hadn’t seen the light of day since the early noughties, and that had been confirmed when he’d pulled it around his shoulders and the buttons had gaped over his chest. Twenty years ago he’d been a lot leaner, but two decades of focused gym sessions, hard graft and being battered in the field had left him with a lot more heft. He’d pulled on a white t-shirt underneath and left it open, hoping he didn't look too much like someone's dad trying to look ten years younger.

Hair waxed into place, beard conditioned, aftershave and cologne–but not enough to register as chemical warfare–and he was as good as he was gonna get. He had never been asked on a date, only ever done the asking, and even then the sum total of his dating efforts as a young man had ended in disaster. Cold fish and chips on the riverfront and getting your leg over in the nearby park, only to fumble that too, wasn’t exactly peak romance, even at fifteen years old, and somehow he didn't think Nik had anything similar in mind.

Fifteen years old. That had been--

Oh, fuck. He was not equipped for this in the slightest.

Price’s phone beeped and a glance at the message confirmed Nik had arrived on base to pick him up. Bang on time too. Price took one final look in the mirror, grimaced, shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. Fuck it. It would have to do. Nik had seen him looking like the arse end of a donkey, so this… jitter in Price’s chest felt bloody stupid.

“Get a fuckin’ grip,” he murmured to himself as he snatched his wallet and keys from his bed and shut the door behind him. Unfortunately for Price, the rest of 141 were eagerly awaiting his appearance in the rec room and all looked up when he closed the door. He immediately regretted not exiting through the open window in his room.

“Well, well, cap, don’ ye brush up nice. G’ies a twirl,” Soap said, leaning forward with a wide grin that informed Price he was about to endure a good five to ten minutes of focused ribbing.

“Watch it, MacTavish,” Price replied, but without heat. He felt like a prize twat and this was Soap’s roundabout way of helping.

“Och, c’mon noow,” Soap spread his hands and turned to Garrick for support, “Gaz, back me up…”

Garrick looked up from his phone and tilted his head to the side, clearly evaluating just how much he wanted to chance Price putting him on the worst details for the next week. Apparently, he was feeling pretty fucking lucky that evening. “Pretty sure my dad owns that shirt, Tav. Very… uh, early noughties chic. What d’ya think, Ghost?”

Price could count on Simon to fight his corner against these two reprobates. Or so he thought. Simon leaned back, arms folded across his chest, and examined Price for a beat before choosing violence. “Pretty sure I saw it last about ten years ago,” Simon said, and then shook his head. “Happy to drop a pony on a new striker xt gen 2 so you can have the ranger green as well as the steel grey, but couldn’t cough up a few quid on a new shirt, sir.”

“You’re all bastards, and I you’ll be shovelling the shit next week once I get back to my desk,” Price growled.

A round of groans followed, and Soap rolled up to his feet. “C’mon, sir, we’re just jossin’. As my ol’ nan used tae say: a pritty face suits the dish-cloot.”

“Dish cloth chic,” Gaz said, grinning.

“Ah mean he looks bonnie, right? ‘Side, we need to cut the ol’ man some slack. When was th’ last time ye got tae let yer hair doon, sir?”

“Not long enough,” Price said, pinching the bridge of his nose and planning to beast the trooper delaying Nik at the checkpoint.

“I reckon the last time was when Usher was in the charts. What was the song? Ooh-whoop ooh-whoop, ooh-whoop ooh-whoop, shit, what was it called?”

Price decided that Garrick would be organising a mock dawn raid for the freshest batch of recruits. He would make sure the weather forecast was grim.

“Wait, wait, lemme get it up on Spotify. We c'n get cap in the mood tae drop tha’ thang. Reckon Nik’s an animal on the dancefloor, aye? Ha! Found it. ‘Yeah’ by Usher.”

Soap would be joining Garrick. Full weighted kit.

Price watched as the two sergeants bounced around enthusiastically to a song from 2004 that was, by Price’s estimations, only a year older than the shirt he was currently wearing. Fucking disaster. He looked at Simon, who was watching Johnny with that far away look he always did when he thought no one else would notice.

“You have started the party without me, I see,” said a familiar voice at the door. Price looked over and nearly choked on his own tongue. Nik looked fucking good. White button down open at the collar, black slacks, polished shoes, with his hair freshly cut. Simple, but classy. Price tugged at his sleeve and rubbed the back of his neck, hoping the heat he felt under his skin hadn't translated into a flush.

Nik appraised Price with those same soft eyes that had implored him from the cockpit of his damn helicopter for a date. Price cleared his throat. “You scrub up good, Nik.”

“I could say the same. But you are always the prettiest thing in any room to me, captain.”

Price’s face burned to the very tips of his ears.

“Ah, Nik! Watcha mate, how're you doin’?” Garrick bounded over and threw his arm around Nik’s shoulders for a half hug.

“Ye better have him home by ten!” Soap called from where he stayed slouched on the sofa.

“Of course, sergeant.”

“Nik, let's go, and you lot, get an early night. Pay back's a bitch.”

Nik smiled and stepped aside with what was definitely a bloody half bow to let Price out of the rec room first to a chorus of groans and entreaties for mercy from the two sergeants. Price and Nik emerged into the night air and had almost reached the car before Nik took Price's hand and drew him to a stop. “You are nervous.”

Price cleared his throat, sniffed, and did his best to come off as nonchalant. “Nah, I'm grand, just realised I’ve not got the clobber for this kind of thing, or the, uh… expertise. I'm worried you'll be disappointed.”

Nik looked at him blankly.

“Ah, sorry, my… clothes. It's been a long time since–”

Nik took his chin and lifted his eyes from where they had drifted to the ground. The kiss he placed on Price’s lips was tender, fleeting compared to their first shared under the downdraft of spinning helicopter blades, but it made Price's heart stutter just the same.

“You look good…” Nik released his chin to push both hands into Price’s hair, mussing it out of its careful arrangement. Next, he reached around the back of Price’s belt and tugged his t-shirt free. “Hm, now better.” Price swallowed hard, trying not to be too obvious about inhaling Nik’s scent as he pressed in close.

“Scruffy more like.” Price was still getting over the feeling of Nik’s fingers in his hair, brushing the skin on his back. Nerves had been replaced by the soft thrum of something warm in his chest.

“Nyet. English country boy with rough edges and blue eyes. You are honest, John Price. And a good man. It is what I have always loved most.” Nik opened the car door as Price gawped at him with wide eyes. When his senses had returned, Price realised Nik had rented a nondescript BMW for his stay, with leather interior and a fully digital media system. Plush. “After you.”

“Where’re we goin’?” Price asked as he slid into the passenger seat.

“Is surprise.”

“Bloody hell, and here I was thinkin' we’d go out for a movie and a pint.”

Nik grinned, tapping the beemer into ‘Drive’. “I will have the captain back before he turns into pumpkin, or the lieutenant mounts a rescue mission.”

Price chuckled as Nik pulled away into the night. Thankfully, Usher didn't feature in the evening‘s itinerary.

[kiryoutann]

disclaimer and cw: fem! reader. one-nightstand, unplanned pregnancy, vomitting.

CALL OF DUTY MASTERLIST.

journalist! reader, abandoning her draft of an article about SpecGru's (your favorite hockey team) recent win, is forced by her coworkers to "have some fun" AND got dragged to a party. seated around a table full of alcohol that your friends have ordered, loud music blares around you almost to the point of damaging your eardrums.

they say you deserve it - something about how they know you're burying yourself in work not only because you're a workaholic and a huge fan of SpecGru, but also to distract yourself from your recent breakup with your cheating ex.

"honey, you need to forget him, at least just for tonight! look around you, that guy over there has been eyeing you for a while. why don't i hold your drink so you can say hi to him?" one exclaimed, and the others cheered in agreement.

at first, you were reluctant, continuing to plant your back against the back of the couch as if glued to it. but, glass by glass, the alcohol lowers your inhibitions and ability to think rationally. you then slam the glass on the table and approach the brunette with confidence, your friends' cheers ringing out behind you.

so why is it that when you wake up in a strange room - with strange walls and an even stranger bed - the man next to you is a blonde?

you would've just shrug this off and slip out of the bed like any other woman after a one-night stand if he was someone else. but, you recognize that face everywhere - that stubbled jaw and inked left arm peeking out from under the covers. simon riley, SpecGru's top defender.

this must be a dream, you think. this must be some weird, absurd dream you harvested after spending too much time in front of your laptop browsing about him outside of his athletic abilities (whether he's actually single, dating rumors, or some secret Instagram account he has). cause, honestly? out of all the pretty guys in SpecGru, simon is the one who catches your eye.

you slap yourself lightly, intending to wake yourself up from this too-good-to-be-true dream. one slap. two slaps. and the third one is so hard that the said man shifts and grumbles in his sleep. before you can get out of bed, he opens his eyes and looks at you confused.

"uh.. hi," you try, wincing at your own nervousness. "i'm.. well, i'll be going now."

you don't give simon time to respond because the next thing you know, you're already gathering your clothes and heading out of the five-star hotel room.

and of course. of course simon has to give you a "souvenir". cause two months after, you're sitting on the toilet with a positive pregnancy test. you've had your suspicions, but now that you have proof to hold, the fear creeps into your spine.

the cost of living alone is enough to put a dent in your bank account, let alone having a baby? with the father somewhere far and you can only see him on television every time he plays at the hockey rink.

yet, turns out, SOMEHOW, simon isn't as far away as you thought.

two weeks in limbo considering what to do, your boss assigns you to cover this sport lunch event at a hotel. his briefing is short, but you don't think anything of it. probably because you already have a lot on your plate. besides, going means more bonuses for you to receive.

but boy, it's a disaster at first sight.

simon fucking riley is there, with a few of his teammates. his presence is hard to avoid as he stands like a fucking mammoth in the room. you're smaller than him, so you hope, pray to god and the gods in the sky that your size makes it hard for him to spot you (if he even remembers you).

misplaced optimism, apparently. because firstly, simon has the eyes of an eagle. and secondly, for some reason, he remembers you (or even remembers everyone he's ever slept with? you wonder what he's got stacked up in his hippocampus.)

fucking eggs. the second you smell it, you feel your breakfast kicking, wanting to breach your throat. you excuse yourself, walking briskly towards where the toilets are probably located. out of the corner of your eye, you see simon get up from his chair, but you couldn't care less when you're at risk of staining the expensive marble.

"ma'am?" a deep voice called out to you. simon. you felt the stomach acid reaching the tip of your throat now.

to make the day better, this stupid hallway is too long, and simon turns out to be quite determined in his pursuit. when he grabs your hand, you turn to him and-

you stained his armani suit with your vomit. his face was twisted in disgust mixed with shock, but his grip on you didn't loosen. drawing a conclusion, simon knew what this was all about.

well, at least you don't have to worry about the marble now.

SUPPORT ME THROUGH KO-FI! CHECK MY WRITING COMMISSION.

[midsummer-semantics]

if the world was ending

Okay, I told myself I wasn't going to write anything for @steddieangstyaugust but apparently I lied (I'm sorry)

Here's for day 1: Second Chance

CW: Slight agoraphobia

[not posted to AO3 but you can find other things there.]

When the earthquake hits, he’d like to say he thinks about his parents first. That he wonders where they are and if they're safe or if they’d hear about it from wherever they are in the world. If they’d call to check on him, even though they never did before.

He'd like to say he thinks about Robin, who's two states away studying for a graduate degree in International relations and communication, and likely doesn't feel the ground moving beneath her feet like he does.

Hell, he'd like to say he thinks about the kids, but most of them are scattered themselves, starting college programs (Will, Mike, Dustin) or sports training camps (Lucas) or exploring the West Coast (Max and El).

No, Steve is alone in his big, empty house when it hits, and the only thing on his mind is that they were wrong. Indiana doesn't get earthquakes, so something else has to be afoot. Six years since they defeated Vecna, since everyone tried to move on with their lives while Steve stayed because that's what he does, he stays.

A touchstone Dustin had called him once. Something to do with foundation and a connecting center. Steve still thinks it might have just been him and the rest of the group trying to make him feel better about still being stuck in the same house, in the same town, doing nothing and going nowhere.

He's alone and he thinks 'This is it. What I've been waiting for.'

He has a 6-year-old emergency pack stored that should have more dust on it if it wasn't for the way he chronically checks it. His trusty bat and a duplicate he made just in case, plus the ax he used the last time, are all near enough to the door. He's not sure what the protocol is for earthquakes, having grown up in the Midwest, but he's pretty sure he's not supposed to be indoors, right?

It doesn't last very long, but it doesn't matter. A few seconds of the ground shaking and rolling beneath his feet are enough to jumpstart him into action.

He's gathering supplies, cursing himself for taking too long, when the phone in the kitchen rings.

He should ignore it, knows that whatever or whoever it is can wait until he's secured the area and alerted the cavalry that something is happening. It'll take days for people to get here and Steve thinks he might he able to hold off whatever's coming out of whatever rift has sprung up until then, but he doesn't have time to think about it too hard.

The phone rings off the hook as Steve takes too damn long to double-check that nothing is in the house before he even attempts to go outside, and Steve knows he can't just leave it. Not in case it's someone who's still in town who knows he's here: Mrs. Wheeler, Claudia, Jim or Joyce.

He nearly rips the cord out of the wall when he answers.

"Stevie?!" comes the frantic voice of the person he least expects to be on the other side.

"Eddie?"

"Steve, oh my god." He can hear Eddie panting. "Are you okay?"

It's the first time Steve's heard Eddie's voice in five years. Since Eddie made good on his promise to run like hell out of here, something he'd repeated to anyone who would listen until he finally did. Five years since Steve had realized he was halfway in love with him after saving the world and never got to say anything because he was a coward and Eddie was leaving anyway so what was the point?

He'd gotten one phone call when Eddie arrived in Denver and it's been radio silence since then. Truthfully, he couldn't blame the guy, but Steve had had... thoughts... feelings... probably brought on by end-of-the-world shit but nonetheless. And then Eddie just—

Vanished.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Are you?" he asks.

"We're good," Eddie replies, and only then does he hear the rough grumble of Eddie's uncle in the background, asking why Eddie's on the phone at nearly 3 in the morning.

"Earthquake, old man," Eddie shouts, still too close to the receiver for Steve's already damaged hearing.

Oh.

So, Eddie's in town. Cool. Steve had no idea. Doesn't know when Eddie got in or if he ever intended to tell Steve he was here at all. That's fine.

"Sorry, Stevie. Woke Wayne up. Shit— did I wake you up too?"

Steve swallows harshly, shaking his head even though Eddie can't see it. "No, I was already awake."

"Me too," Eddie replies. "Jet lag. Just got in a few hours ago. What a welcome home, huh?"

"Sure," Steve says, wondering what the point of this call is. "Look, I'm glad to hear from you, but I really need to—"

"Wait!" Steve shuts his mouth, his teeth clacking harshly. "It's fine. Everything is fine."

"Dude, there was an earthquake just now—"

"And it wasn't You-Know-What related," Eddie states, a bit of his franticness back in his voice. "They're leveling part of the plant for safety issues. Wanted to do it at night so no one would freak out." Steve cringes. Hawkins wasn't exactly magnanimous about the rebuilding efforts last time, but he doesn't go to city council meetings to hear about what the efforts might have been since then. "That's part of why I'm home. Wayne's got an extended leave until they sort out what else to do."

Steve sighs, dropping the emergency pack on the floor and leaning the ax he'd managed to grab against the wall. "Oh. Great. Wish they'd have told everyone else just in case."

"I know, sweetheart. But everything is okay."

Sweetheart.

Steve's actual heart skips a beat hearing that again.

"I'll be back, sweetheart. I promise."

"So... you're here then? In Hawkins?"

There's a beat of silence, some shuffling on the other end. "Well, yeah. I told you I'd come back."

"For your uncle."

"He's part of it."

Steve hesitates, hating himself for even considering getting his hopes up.

"And the other part?"

"My guy is here."

When the earthquake hit, he’d like to say he thought about his parents first.

No, he'd thought it was the end of the world. And above that, all he could think about was Eddie.

[delusional-mushroom]

Platonic Hazbin Hotel x Autism creature reader ii

Apparently you all like this? Sorry about the long wait, school’s been kicking my ass lately.

Anyway, here’s part 2, Bon appétit

Part i | Part ii

You fell.

It hurt. It hurt a lot.

All you remember was waking up to Speckle slithering on your face and- HOLY CRAP YOUR WING SHOULD NOT BEND LIKE THAT

After about 10 minutes of wallowing in your pain, you slowly got up.

Ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow

You took a moment to take in the situation. Your clothes, as well as the ground beneath you, we’re stained in gold. It was hard to miss the golden blood trailing behind you too.

There was also a crater in the ground where you fell.

You see the Hazbin hotel in the distance and with the obvious attitude of “What could go wrong?” You sauntered towards the looming building

Speckle took over sight duty on the way tho. The Bright sign posts and the occasional dumpster fires rubbing salt on the metaphorical wound of your approaching melt down.

When you finally got there, you uncovered your eyes and stood outside for a few minutes before finally gathering up the courage to knock on the door.

Luckily for you, it’s Charlie who opens the door.

You exchange awkward greetings, Charlie beating around the bush of asking you the casual question of you know, why the fuck you’re in hell?

After a few seconds of staring at each other, you nervously fiddle with your thumbs

“So Uhm, I uh, fell, I guess.”

After the initial shock, concern, and confusion, Charlie welcomed you with open arms

At first, the hotel residents didn’t know what to make of you

Vaggie was pretty neutral with you, you seemed alright enough in heaven and if you weren’t gonna make a fuss neither would she.

That is, until she found you making yourself a cup of cocoa at two in the morning.

“Had a nightmare,” you mumbled when she questioned you, hand stretched towards you as if she held her spear to you throat. Did she sleep with the thing? Who knows.

She dropped her arm and took in your disheveled appearance. That seemed to check out. It seemed tonight wasn’t good for you either. “What about you?” She heard you ask drowsily.

“Nightmare.” She said. It was cold and blunt as she turned on the kettle and carelessly threw a teabag inside of a mug. ‘Best girlfriend ever’ it read in black. A gift from charlie, she smiled at the thought.

“Wanna talk about it?” You tested. This situation was more awkward than you wanted to deal with. At least the noise of the kettle in the background filled up the silence.

Vaggie turned to you, the ghost of a smile lingering on her face. Maybe tonight wasn’t so bad.

And since then you and her talked about what was bothering you. Or not. Sometimes you just sit next to each other, a cup of cocoa in both of your hands and enjoy each other’s company.

Angel found you funny

Fat nuggets 🤝 you.

Whenever Angel has to go to the studio, he leaves Fat Nuggets with you.

Whether its for you to watch the pig, or the pig to watch you, well… thats up to you.

He probably won’t open up to you about Valentino

But if he does, the stupid bald moth asshole can expect a lot of passive aggressive [special interest] themed notes that come seemingly nowhere.

Sir Pentious didn’t know what to make of you at first.

To him, you were some random child that showed up one day and could go from staring into someones soul for minutes on end without blinking, to looking like you were on the brink of tears if you hands brushed against a nope texture.

Eventually though, you ask about his inventions.

Bro had a whole “your asking about my theories? I’ve waited years for someone to ask me about my theories!” Moment.

(If you get that reference I love you)

You become hyper-fixation buddies.

You and Nifty don’t get along too well…

“YOU LEAVE THE ROACHES ALONE!” You shriek, holding two bugs high above you hear as the short little menace tries to get to them, knife brandished.

“NEVER!” She laughed back a crazed look in her eye.

…that wasn’t fun. Rest in piece Sir Bob and dame Jane.

Whenever you zone out in front of Husk, he pours a glass of apple juice and gently places it in front of you, eyeing you every now and then, a concerned look in his eyes.

Alastor finds you amusing.

He tried making a deal with you on your first day.

Now Vaggie won’t let him within a 3 meter radius of you.

When you meet Lucifer, he takes one look at you, Speckle coiled around your neck and a bottle of apple juice in your hands and just immediately goes “🫠”

He’s your father now. There’s no getting out of it. Why would even you want to tho?

Hyper-fixation buddy #2

You both rant about your special interests to each other

Be prepared to be bombarded with rubber ducks.

Meanwhile, in heaven…

Everyone: wHeRe iS tHe cHiLd?

[melanieph321]

Just anything Josko

He seems so sweet and shy in public but I bet he’s super protective

Ofc ❤️

Joško Gvardiol x Reader - Tell Me I'm Yours

Enjoy!

You woke up alone, which was pretty sad. You told Joško to drop you off at your apartment after your date last night. However, he convinced you to stay with him. For the sex, you suspected.

You took a shower and got dress as the morning unfolded. After making yourself a nice little breakfast you really thought about going home. You had chores of your own that need to be done, and puttering around in some guy's apparment didn't exactly give you ahead start. However, Joško seemed so serious when he said, "I'll be back after training, please don't leave."

You really liked him, maybe even loved him. However, he had never made any indications that you were his girlfriend, nor had you been introduced to any of his friends. And now all of a sudden he felt the need to keep you locked up in his apartment.

"Fuck that." You thought. This life, this behavior, it could only mean two things. Either Joško had no experience on how to treat and keep a girl, or you were simply the side piece that he kept while running home to his real girlfriend every day.

"Fuck that."

You gathered your things and left the apparment.

A big mistake.

It was around eight o'clock in the evening when a loud knock rattled your door.

"Who is it?" You shouted.

No answer, just a repetition of the loud knocks.

"I have a knife!" You threatened. But what could a short girl with a knife do? Stab the intruder in the knee?

It took you alot of courage to open the door, a gasp escaping your mouth as you did. "Joško?"

He stood clenching his jaw, eyes dark and eyebrows furrowed. "You left." He groand.

"I...I did."

"I told you not to leave."

"I'm sorry Joško, but I was not gonna...."

"You promised not to leave."

You let out a shriek as Joško threw you over his shoulder, closing the door behind you.

"Joško, put me down." You laughed. You had no idea where the laughter came from as it was a very stressful situation.

Joško carried you through your apartment towards the living room, where he lay you down on the couch. The look on his face changed, his expression faltering. Leaving him might truly have hurt his feelings. He was still wearing his training attire, and you imagined the look on his face when he arrived back to his apartment only to find it empty and abandoned by you.

"What must I do to keep you?" Joško said, lowering himself to kiss your neck.

"Tell me I'm yours." You whimpered.

"You're mine, of course you're mine Y/N." He had begun rushing things now, skipping the foreplay, going straight to pulll down your pants and his.

"Tell me I'm the only one."

"You're the only one Y/N, why do you think I wanted to keep you with me?"

"Why?" You asked, your voice in your throat as Joško aligned himself with your entrance, easing into you in case you weren't completely ready for him. You were however. You were ready and eager to have him inside of you.

"Fuck Joško."

He laughed against your skin. "You like that?"

"Yes." You moaned.

"Me too, you feel so good baby, so tight."

He thrusted in and out of you while cradling your body, raising his head with every jerk, as if to check on you.

"You never answered my question." You said, as his urge for your body blew over, and the previously rough kisses turned into sweet pecks to your cheeks.

"What question?" Joško frowned.

"Why did you want to keep me at your apartment all day?"

He pushed off the cuchens to meet your eyes. His gaze is gentle, almost loving. At that moment, you realized that perhaps you were the only one.

"The first and last thing I see." He muttered.

"Come again?" Now was really not the time for riddles.

Joško smiled, a rare smile that perhaps was only meant for your eyes and your eyes only. "I want you to be the first person I see when I wake up in the morning and the last person I see before I go to bed in the evening. That's why I wanted to keep you in my apartment baby. Because I love you and need you."

Your hand ran through his hair, coming to a rest at the nape of his neck. You pulled him down to meet your lips, kissing him until you felt the rest of him come alive again. "I need you too." You whispered. "I need you now and forever."

[gentlebeardsbarngrill]

01/19/2024 Crew Recap

TLDR; HoistTheAds; LubeAsACrew; CastAndCrew Reactions; Petition/Fundraiser Updates; TheCozyPirate Update; Taika Pictures; The back of Rhys' Naked Legs

Edit: Rhys put his reaction up after I had put this together and I missed it, see it here or on his IG while the Story is still up.

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

There just isn't enough room on tumblr for the amount of crap that went down today, let me tell you.

Well, as many of you know, shit got real today with the #HoistTheAds campaign and #LubeAsACrew going live.

#HoistTheAds

Last night at 12 PM EST the 2 day , every 15 minute ad campaign that @renewasacrew set up with the money gathered from the ad fundraiser kicked off in timesquare. You can still view them here Expect our ad every hour at :00, :01, :02, :15, :38, :42, :50

Throughout the day you could see the plane messages:

The Trucks went by!

And probably the most exciting things were the reactions from the cast and crew over the billboard!

There were a LOT of reactions so bear with me, there will be a lot of pictures. Chaos Dad David Jenkins, Kristian Nairn, Samba Schutte, Madeleine Sami, Samba Schutte, Leslie Jones, Vico Ortiz, Linds Cantrell, Alex Sherman, Eroll Shand, David Fane and many more. Some sent messages, some just emojis.

One special one to point out was David Fane's adorable reactions:

Some good news too, apparently Chaos Dad was able to actually go to Time Square and see the billboard, but wasn't able to interact.

#LubeAsACrew

Then there was this crazy thing... LubeAsACrew, where the Social Media person for Astroglide did a simultaneous watch with everyone on twitter. Then live-tweeted the episodes. Some of the stuff that came from it.. was unhinged and so much fun. There was too much to get into so I'm just including some highlights, feel free to check out the thread here:

==== Articles ====

The billboards obviously got a lot of attention of the press because the amount of articles out today are nuts:

PinkNews: Our Flag Means Death fans buy huge Times Square advert to demand its return

Pride.com: Our Flag Means Death fans buy Times Square billboard to save the show

Them.Us: Our Flag Means Death Fans Bought a Billboard in Times Square to Demand Renewal

TV Insider: ‘Our Flag Means Death’ Fans Take Renewal Campaign to Times Square — David Jenkins Reacts

Gay Times: ‘Bracing for battle’: Our Flag Means Death fans rally together for season 3

Now This News: Its Flag Meant Death: The Uncertain Reality for Queer-Driven Shows in the Streaming Era

Popverse: Our Flag Means Death fans launch Times Square billboard (and more) in series renewal campaign

Marysue: ‘Our Flag Means Death’ Fans Have Really Made an Impression With This Effort To Save the Show

The Geekiary: Fans Fight To Save Our Flag Means Death From Doggie Heaven

==== Impacts / Stats ====

=Petition=

Up to 67K+! Holy crap yall! That's almost 7K today! Great job!

=Fundraisers=

Renew As a Crew for Rainbow Youth has almost met the $17K Goal everyone! Almost there!

OFFP Care for Gaza - up to almost $8300

===Twitter Trends/Stats===

Twitter trends got pretty high with all the hashtags. I tried to get pictures at peak times but Im sure there were move, so take these numbers with a grain of salt, they were probably more!

=== Hashtag Update ===

Looks like the hashtags today are the following, and as always emails, and instructions are here: #HoistTheAds #SaveOFMD #RenewAsACrew

= Stuff I Dont Have Categories For! =

Just some more industry info from our local @TheCozyPirate

And for whatever reason, Taika Archives came out with new Taika pictures today. So enjoy some black and white Taika.

Wow I actually reached my picture limit on this one, that's crazy.

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

Final note for the night-- I saw SO MANY OF YOU CALLING TODAY! And expressing your call anxiety and how you overcame it, and oh my gosh I just have to say you're all so friggn amazing! Stepping out of your comfort zone is scary as fuck and you did it anyway! Great job everyone! And if you haven't done so yet-- no worries, if you want to, you can, if you're not ready, that's okay too!

Other than that-- I've seen a lot of folks really taking a step back from the trolls and blocking/ignoring, great job all! Enjoy your celebration and happy times! Don't let the haters get to you. You are awesome and beautiful and we all continue to be so incredibly proud of this community! The Cast and Crew SAW you today as they have for days since all this started and they know we love them!

Now, I'll end with a picture of the backs of Rhys' legs (on the right) and a censored butt. Enjoy the muscles, I know I do.

[bimirmir]

Official Balam in mafia AU

I am SO INTRIGUED by the characterization of Balam in the official mafia AU. So far we've only seen him 3 times, they're clearly trying to hold him off for a bigger introduction. From what i gathered, he's a doctor from the black market, and I'm pretty sure he's partially responsible for disposing of bodies for the mafia.

Still, more than his occupation, I'm even more intrigued by the relationship he has with Kalego and Opera.

He's treating Opera for a mystery illness that they apparently have, and they really hate going for their check ups. I really hope they're still friends though 🥺

And when it comes to Kalego... Since when does Kalego call Shichiro "that damn (anything)"????

"That damn black market doctor"???? Kalego wdym!!!! That's your husband!!!! /j

Kalego seems to be poking fun/bantering with Shichiro, simultaneously throwing more work at him, meanwhile Balam seems to be straight up annoyed by that. They're such good friends in the original manga, I can't imagine them being anything less...

[lightseoul]

cw. gn!reader, flighty!reader, reader works in forensics, prohero!katsuki, aged up (around mid 20s)

a/n. this was fun to write lmao. this is definitely not self-indulgent :0 again, would surely appreciate reblogs and comments <3

You’re a runner.

And no, not in the dystopian, getting-out-of-a-manmade-maze sense.

You run from feelings.

And that happens to include the kind when someone gets a little bit too close for comfort.

But you also do run in the literal sense.

In fact, you just did.

Panting, you round the next corner of your office building’s hallway, what was once a sprint (at least, the type that was possible in a crowded skyscraper in Tokyō) now faltering into a light jog.

Huffing, you chance a peek behind your shoulder, a sigh wracking your body when you conclude that the man of the hour is finally out of sight.

“What’s up with you?”

The man’s red-headed best friend quirks an amused eyebrow at you when you halt at the sound, startled.

He slows down in his steps as he appraises the mess that you currently are; from the looks of it, he’s heading in the direction you’re desperately trying to run away from, and for a split second, you’re half your mind to drag him with you to the elevator and vanish before the man could spot the both of you.

Why the fuck are you acting like this?

“I—Was just wanting to—” At this point, you’re severely out of breath. And you’d chalk it up to the physical exertion you definitely aren’t used to, but you know it’s more than that.

The warmth of your cheeks seems to suggest that, too.

“Hold up.”

You look up at Kirishima, one hand still on your hip to help keep you upright despite the exhaustion.

He tilts his head. “Aren’t you supposed to be in a meeting with Bakubro?”

Even just the mention of his name triggers your fight-or-flight response.

It also happens to send a flood of longing right through you.

“Yeah,” you rasp, before checking over your shoulder again. Coast: still clear.

“What are you—” Kirishima starts, eyebrows pinched in confusion, before what looks like realization and amusement flash across his features.

“Did he—”

“Yeah,” you cut him off before he could say it.

Apparently, being confessed to out of the blue by the man you’ve been in love with for a year cuts your sentence-formation capabilities to not more than one worded ones at a time.

Just as you expected, worry dances its way across Kirishima’s face.

“Are you running away from him?”

You choke on your spit.

“Hey, easy, Y/N,” Kirishima says while awkwardly rubbing your back as you cough your lungs out.

You stand upright when you finally gather your bearings, ready to explain, or attempt to explain to Kirishima (but more to yourself) why you just fled the meeting room where you and Bakugou were discussing the forensics of his new case.

It’s not like you didn’t see it coming.

The feelings, not the outright confession.

Midoriya, Kirishima, and his other friends have made it pretty obvious with their background teasing that the emotionally constipated blonde has taken a particular interest in you.

(Background because the aforementioned blonde would indubitably kill them if he found out they were teasing you, let alone about him.)

You just couldn’t bring yourself to believe it and hell—start to hope—until a while ago, when the Bakugou Katsuki himself slammed his fist on the table, spitting out the three words you’ve been dreaming to hear from him since you first worked on that gory ass mission together.

Well, four. If you count the curse slotted among the ‘I like you’.

But as it turns out, the reality of it all—Bakugou’s vulnerability, mutual feelings, and possibly dating a Pro Hero—scared you.

And so you ran.

And you were about to confess all this to poor Kirishima when a booming voice echoes through the hallway, effectively triggering your (definitely) flight response once more.

At that, you bolt to the elevators, leaving behind a speechless Kirishima.

Luckily for you, Bakugou has always been good at chasing what he wants.

[bots-and-cons]

Hi so idk if this is the right place to request but I wanted to ask if you could do the cons reacting to the little 15-16 year old reader (gn pls) just absolutely wiping the floor with someone like four times their size and then just asking to go get McDonald’s or take a nap ✨

(I’m guessing this is the ask box and now I feel stupid lol but I just copy and pasted it so again tysm I love your writing!)

A/N: Yes, the askbox is the right place when you want to request something. I just did a couple of cons together, it’s a holoform (like a human avatar thingy) thing because I felt it was better that way. Also thank youuuu! This went a bit off the rails tbh, but I couldn’t be bothered to start over at almost 400 words, so I just kept going until I finished whatever the hell this ended up being

•Knockout, Breakdown, Soundwave and you had gone out on the town

•It was very, very rare for Soundwave to ever leave the Nemesis, but he wanted to observe some humans and you whined too much about him never going anywhere with you, so he promised just this once

•Knockout is probably the most adjusted to being in his holoform and acting like a human, Breakdown is also pretty well-adjusted

•Soundwave on the other gives off a very odd vibe, and there’s this uncanny valley thing going on with him, where people just get the creeps

•People visibly moved out of the way when you walked around town with these three, though it was mostly because of Soundwave and Breakdown’s constant angry expression

•So you would think no one would mess with you, but some of the bullies you’d been dealing with at school happened to come across you while you were separated from the three cons

•You’re a pretty chill person and you’re quite small for your age, but you have limits of how much shit you’re willing to take

•These bullies had been hounding your friend for months and you’d stepped in a couple of times to stop them, but it had never escalated to anything physical before

•So now that they saw you and assumed you were alone, these two idiots decided they would teach you a lesson

•When the commotion started, the three cons immediately started looking around, because they didn’t see you anywhere

•Knockout went to check out what was happening over where the people were gathering, and saw you standing over two other teenagers that were now laying on the floor

•You wiped the blood away from your upper lip and told Knockout you wanted to get something to eat

•He was like “Alright then” and just gave one last glance to the kids you had apparently beaten up

•Breakdown and Soundwave joined you while you were going to eat and Breakdown asked why you had blood on your knuckles

•You didn’t say anything, so Knockout told Breakdown you’d gotten into a fight

•”Well did you win?” Breakdown asked

•You weren’t really sure how they would react to you beating up some idiots, but you really should’ve guessed they would’ve been just fine with it

•You were like “Of course I won” with a grin

•Breakdown just smiled very widely and said “That’s the spirit” before ruffling your hair

•You went to get food and even Soundwave gave you a thumbs up

•Breakdown has kind of secretly been teaching you how to throw a proper punch, so he’s very proud of you, they all are, but especially him

•Knockout is more sneaky when fighting, because he’s not as strong, so he fights kinda dirty

•Soundwave is more the type to blackmail someone to get them to stop doing something, but he would definitely win in a fight too

•The four of you actually ended up talking about how to win a fight and how each of them does it

•Soundwave was a bit more cryptic about it, because he doesn’t really talk, he just said “blackmail” and left it at that

•It got a good laugh out of you but go Knockout and Breakdown wondering what kind of blackmail material Soundwave might have of them

[cressidagrey]

Indelible Scars - Chapter 4

Summary:

Azriel knew pain. So did Galena.

Also known as: Azriel’s mate is a healer and the first time they meet, he nearly dies on her.

Warnings:

Horrible self image, facial scarring, blindness, people behaving abhorrently...

(thanks to @cafekitsune for the super pretty dividers!)

Breakfast was cut short that morning with the arrival of The Morrigan.

Galena had never actually laid eyes on her. As soon as the knock sounded at the door, she made the trek upstairs, cane hitting the bannister of the staircase with every step she took. She would finish getting dressed and then go down into the stillroom and finish the batch of fertility potions she had been working on.

She had only listened half when her aunt and Zoreen had chattered on the evening before about one of the males working for the High Lord being laid up with a cold. 

For somebody that was apparently some kind of mythical warrior that guy apparently couldn’t deal with having the sniffles, but oh well. It was none of her business. 

Galena’s domain was the stillroom. 

In the back of the apothecary, mixing tinctures and draughts and potions. There, where she could work alone, hidden away, where nobody would see her. 

She liked it like that. 

It wasn’t that she couldn’t do the healing tasks her Aunt Madja carried out…or that she wasn’t good at it. Or that she didn’t enjoy it…it was nothing of that sort. 

She could do it, she was good at it and she did enjoy it. 

But what she didn’t enjoy were the looks she gathered, either pity or disgust or some sick sense of amusement, on the faces of the people surrounding her if they saw her face. 

If they saw the scars that covered most of her body. 

For some people, very rarely, Galena was a proper healer. For Cosima, who was a healer herself and had worked for her aunt for decades…when she had been pregnant, Galena had done all her check-ups…she had brought her son into the world…saved both Cosima’s and Orion’s life that day, when she had cut the baby out of his mother’s womb. Both had survived. She had been right after all. 

But most of the time…all the time nearly…the stillroom was hers, where she could be alone, and nobody would stare at her. Nobody would see her. She could be invisible. 

Her scars didn’t matter. Not here.  

Big windows led out into the garden and the glasshouse they kept there where Galena doted on the more temperamental herbs and flowers she needed, the ones that needed to be plucked on the full moon… or during a specific daytime. 

She loved it. 

Loved being alone. Without anybody else that would just…hurt her. 

She had despised school and the other younglings surrounding her, who were either terrified of her scars or made fun of the same…and so as soon as she had graduated… she had gone into the sanctuary of the stillroom. 

She knew that her aunt worried…worried that Galena, even with nearly 150 years, still lived in her attic…where she had her own little apartment. That Galena didn’t leave the house unless she had no other choice…That Galena had no friends to speak off, unless it were the people she worked with. 

 Galena didn’t go out shopping or to the Palaces if she could somehow get away with not doing it. She knew that if she did, people would stare. People would talk behind her back and she would need to ignore that and act like she didn’t care. 

But she did care.

Aunt Madja tried to get her out of the house. Madja told her to go buy vegetables at the market and every few weeks Galena did that, grinding her teeth and ignoring the whispers and the stares. Unless Zoreen took pity on her. 

Zoreen got her mail-order catalogues and picked up vegetables on her way to work if she could and did everything so that Galena didn’t need to leave. 

Madja thought the world just needed to get used to Galena. Zoreen thought that Galena didn’t owe anybody anything to talk about. 

She loved Zoreen like a sister just for that. 

 And so while Madja and Zoreen were off to see patients, Galena did her work in the stilroom…finishing her batch of Fertility Potions and then stocking up on Sleeping Potions…the usual. 

Most days were similar, unless she had the time and the mood to start and invent something new or make something better. Today, she played around with some Anti-nausea recipes wondering if she should fix the taste of peppermint. Maybe something tasteless would be better... 

She heard the jingle of the doorbell but she didn’t even react to that. Silas was manning the till. He would take care of whoever wanted to buy something from the apothecary…

She wondered how long Silas would survive in the shop because even after two months he was still staring at her wide-eyed, terrified, whenever he needed to actually talk to her. Galena hated it. But she didn’t say anything. She couldn’t give him the fault for it, not when she knew how the scars looked. 

Instead, she started to pour her nausea cure into little bottles, humming to herself. It was horrible off-key and she knew she sounded like she was mental, but if that meant that she got Silas to quit because he was terrified of her, then she was quite willing to do it. 

Besides, it was better than outright talking to herself as she was also sometimes prone to be doing. 

She held back a sigh as she heard the knock on her door. 

“Yes?” she called to answer, putting down her work.

It was Silas. She knew that, could see him out of the corner of her good eye.

Galena had long since moved the still room around so that she could see the door with the eye that could still see more than simple blurs of colours.

 “Galena? There is somebody there to see you? He said Zoreen sent him…with a note,” Silas blurted out and Galena nodded, not bothering to look at him. 

Interesting. 

“Just put it on the table, please,“ she requested as she screwed the lid back onto the big bottle of Nausea cure from where she was doling it out. 

“It’s the General,” Silas said. “He’s terrifying.”

Galena highly doubted that, but then,  she had clearly lost her ability to feel fear like a normal fae together with her eye and her face. 

“Could you read the note, please?” Silas said and she finally looked up, facing him with the full brunt of her face and watched how he flinched away. 

It hurt. It always did. Regardless of how often it happened to her. She said nothing, picking up her cane and crossing the room to take the piece of paper. 

Zoreen’s handwriting. 

Galena , both Madja and me don’t know what’s wrong with a patient. 

Madja thought it was just a cold but I think it’s much, much worse than that. And if you can’t figure out what is wrong with him, I don’t know how long he will survive. His fever is getting dangerously high, even with a draught and his lungs are deteriorating as I write this. 

I know you don’t want to leave the stillroom and I understand that…but you are his only chance. 

If you can’t figure it out… He dies. 

He’s the General’s brother and while said General looks terrifying, it’s obvious how much he means to him. So please…ignore the looks and the whispers, and come save a life, Galena.  

Huh. 

It did tickle her professional curiosity.

Something other than making burn cream and Anti-Nausea Draughts…Granted, she would need to ignore the glances and flinches and outright stares at her face and her body…but maybe she would learn something else…maybe he would survive, whoever he was…

Life was precious. Even Galena agreed with that. 

“Tell the General I am coming,” Galena said calmly, folding the note. 

“What?” Silas asked, his voice scaling higher. “You want to leave the stillroom? What are people going to say?” he asked, immediately regretting that question and Galena just stared at him. 

“What they always say,” Galena said drily. “I’ll need to pack a bag.”

Silas went outside and she grabbed the bag she kept packed, adding in this and that, her mind already running with options of what could be wrong with that mysterious patient that stumped bother her aunt and Zoreen. 

And then she grasped her cane and her bag and steeled herself for what she knew was going to happen once she walked into the apothecary.

The General of the Night Court’s Armies was tall and muscular and handsome as well, with a pair of truly enormous black wings, that marked him as lllyrian. 

“General,” she greeted him, her voice soft, meeting his eyes and not moving a muscle as she saw it play over his face. Shock. Surprise. Pity…There was no disgust this time. She gave him credit for that. She had seen that often enough to know exactly when people felt that for her. 

Like the scars that marred her face somehow made her worth less than them…somehow meant that she wasn’t High Fae just like them. 

At least he probably wasn’t going to think that…he wasn’t a High Fae either. 

She watched him swallow and then offer her a broad hand, not flinching away from her own scarred one. She would give him credit for that as well. He was clearly trying. 

“Are you Galena?” he asked her and she nodded. 

“I am. Galena Kosciarz,” she introduced herself. “Madja is my aunt.” Surprise registered over his face and then he nodded. 

“I need your help,” he told her, sounding for such a big male, surprisingly desperately. 

“Zoreen told me,” she assured him. “Where am I needed?” 

“The House of Wind.”

She blinked. “If you expect me to walk up ten thousand steps, I am going to have to turn you down. My leg won’t allow that,” Galena told him drily.

If she had a bad day, her walk to her rooms in the attic was already torture. There was no way she would be able to walk up to the House of Wind, even on a good day. 

“How do you feel about flying?” he asked her, lips pulling into a smirk and she just stared at him. “I’ll carry you.”

Her eyebrows rose at that. 

“Please,” he said, his voice growing desperate. “My brother is really sick and Zoreen thinks you are the only one who could possibly figure out what is wrong with him.”

She had never actually thought that she would get to fly. Nor had she ever thought that that was something that she wanted to do…but…well.

Of all the things she had experienced in her life, why not add flying to it? It couldn’t be that bad, right? Illyrians did it all the time. 

Granted they were born with wings, and she was not, but…

She sized him up and then figured that if he was desperate enough to seek her out, he was probably not going to let her fall and plummet to her death if he could help it. 

“Alright,” she agreed. “But I need my bags.”

His shoulders slumped with relief at that and he happily acquiesced…She did her best to ignore the feeling of his broad hands on her, because she couldn’t even remember the last time she had been touched by somebody other than her aunt or Zoreen…and pressed her eyes closed as he pushed into them sky with one mighty flap of his enormous wings. 

She kept them closed, not daring to open them because she would rather not vomit all over the General.  

“So, what’s wrong with your brother?” she asked him. The more information she could get the better it would be. The more likely it was that she could figure out what was wrong with him. 

“Didn’t Zoreen tell you?” he responded curiously and she shrugged. 

“I would like to hear it from you. You were the first that noticed that something went wrong?” she asked. 

“Yes,” his voice was…tinted with something aking to regret. “He collapsed during sparring. Cutched at his chest….since then he started coughing horribly. Also managed to hit his head on the edge of his desk while trying to get to the bathroom,” he told her and she grimaced, ignoring the way the corner of her mouth tended to spasm at that. 

“Was him collapsing the first time that you realised that something was wrong?” she asked him. “Anything else out of the usual with him during the last few weeks?”

“Nothing that I noticed,” he answered, honestly. “I should have…the one thing was that he got some bruises on his chest, but that was it.” 

“Does he have any ongoing medical problems? Any medication he takes?” Galena asked. 

“No.” 

“Any special abilities? Anything else I need to know?” she asked. 

“He’s a shadowsinger,” the General answered. 

Well, that was rare. 

But Galena highly doubted that his shadows were making him sick. 

“What’s his name?” she asked instead because her aunt always was on her to remember that she was dealing with actual people and not just illnesses. 

“Azriel,” The General answered, just as they plummeted to the ground. The landing wasn’t quite as bad as she imagined it would be. 

And he put her back down onto her feet like she was made out of spun glass. 

“Show me where my patient is,” she told him and he gave her a smile as he led her into the House of Wind. 

A few minutes later they entered a bedroom, where Zoreen and adja were quietly conversing, her aunt looking up as soon as she saw him. 

“Galena,” Madja greeted her and she gave her aunt a nod, before she looked to the enormous bed that dominated the room. 

And then it punched through her. 

No forewarning. 

No. 

No. 

No, no, no, no.

No. 

It punched through her with all the finesse of a boulder, a golden thread tying her to the male lying on that bed. 

Her mate. 

Hers. 

Hers. 

She just stared at him, her hands tightening around her cane, surprised that she didn’t outright faint or collapse to the floor. 

She had never even thought that this was going to happen to her…she had never even thought that…She never wanted a mate. 

Galena didn’t believe in the mating bond. Not really.

And Galena had never thought that she even needed to worry about this, because it wasn’t like she normally left her aunt’s house…wasn’t like she met any males her age that were available for something like that and…

There he was. 

The one the mother chose for her. The one that was supposed to be her other half. 

Andd now she et him. As her patient. So sick and near death that she was considered the last option. 

That was what finally made her move closer. 

She never thought she would have a mate. 

But there he was. 

And even sick and flushed with fever…He was beautiful. Classical handsome. So handsome that he would have no problem whatsoever to have any female he wanted. 

No need to choose somebody like her.

She would never want to saddle any male with herself. And especially not a male that looked like him. 

She swallowed.

“You gave him anything?” she asked, forcing her voice to sound normal, even when it rapeseed in her throat. Something inside her wanted her to reach out to touch him, wanted to see if his skin was as hot as it seemed to be…wanted to check the heartbeat thrumming under his skin…she wanted to do that…but she…

“Fever reducer and a cough draught,” her aunt answered. “Neither have seemed to work.”

Galena nodded.

She took one shaky breath, forcing herself to centre herself…and then cast the first of many diagnostic charms over her mate.

“This is going to take me a while,” she said, forcing herself to concentrate on her work. It always calmed her.  “You don’t need to stay, Aunt Madja,” she promised her.

“Are you sure?” her aunt asked, her voice calm, but Galena could hear the hesitation in her voice. 

“Yes,” she assured her aunt. “I’ll throw every diagnostic I know at him…we’ll know more this afternoon,” she promised her aunt. “I highly doubt I could be safer anywhere but here,” she said pointedly. Right there in their High Lord’s domain. “I’ll send a note if it takes longer.”

Her aunt agreed. “Remember that he’s a person,” she said pointedly and Galena hummed. 

“I will,” she promised.

She waited until her aunt and Zoreen both left the room, before she cast a second diagnostic, letting it run its course as she visually took him in. 

Her mate… Azriel. 

His complexion was paler than what was probably normal, the pallor grey, his breathing was harsher than it should be and he was glowing with fever, sweat pearling on his forehead. Her eyes roamed lower, taking in the muscular chest, covered with a criss cross of white, old scars, and black warrior markings, to his arms and hands that rested on the bedsheets…

His hands…

The scars that covered his hands matched her own. 

Burn scars. 

She wondered how he had gotten his. If it had been as horrible as it had been when her step-father had done what he had done to her…

If…

She wondered…

“Out of pure interest, what did you do that made your aunt remind you that he’s a person?” The General said suddenly and she looked up to find him leaning against the wall, a tall, brown-haired female next to him who was watching Galena with silver eyes. 

Well. 

“You heal a guy without pain relief once, and it’s considered torture,” she gave back drily. 

He stared at her. 

“Why would you do that?” he asked her and she looked back at Azriel. 

Why had she done it? 

Well...It had been over a hundred years ago, while she was still at school…and one of the males her age had taken it onto himself to bully an eleven-year-old girl for being a bastard. 

“He was a grown man bullying an eleven-year-old girl,” Galena said calmly “He deserved worse. I did him a favour. I could have left him to bleed. It was only a broken nose, anyway,” she said with a shrug. 

He stared at her for a moment and then he started laughing.

“You are a bloodthirsty little thing, aren’t you?” he asked her with a chortle and she just shrugged once more.

Sometimes. 

“Do you need anything?” he asked her, growing serious. 

“A chair would be nice,” she answered honestly. “Otherwise, a few hours of time…If it gets late, I’ll need something to eat with copious amounts of sugar…I tend to do use that to fuel my magic,” she explained. 

“We can get you that,” the female agreed, and Galena turned back to her mate. 

Her mate. Hers. 

Even when he would never want her…she didn’t want him to die.

So she would do her damnest to ensure that that wouldn’t happen. 

[vettelsdarling]

Omgg I felt in the mood for some 1D and was listening to “Change my mind” and all I can think about is Lando, so like a friends to lover, mutual pining slow burn and was wondering if you can write a fic based off that pls? Your writing is too good 😩❤️

𝐅𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬..?

Lissie note… I hadn’t heard the song until now, but it’s pretty good! I really enjoyed writing this, thank you for the great idea!!! Tysm for the kind words as well, you’re so sweet!<3

Things to note:

Reader is a college student graduating early (so basically her junior yr)

Lando and Reader are both clueless

Lando and Reader have been best friends since childhood

This doesn’t follow a specific timeline

Charlotte is amazing

Pairing: Lando Norris x Best friend!Fem!Reader

Warnings: Slight cursing

Word Count: 5.3k+

Playlist recommendations: 𝐅𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟💗, 𝐋𝐍𝟒

Taglist: @ophcelia, @allwaysallyway

The Abu Dhabi Grand Prix. The last race of the season, and one that you always attended despite your busy schedule. It was something you simply couldn't skip, even if you wanted to.

Lando Norris, your long-term best friend, had been there for you through thick and thin. You’d just started your junior year in college, and it was nothing but constant pressure. Lando would call you late at night to help you with anything you needed. Therefore, you came to any races that you had time for. Abu Dhabi, however, was non-negotiable. You had to be there. Especially seeing as it meant you’d finally have more time to spend with the Brit. Whenever a season would come to a close, he’d spend his time with you.

Your parents were great friends with his, so it was only natural for the two of you to have grown up together. You came to many of his karting sessions to cheer him on, whilst he attended your spelling bees and other academic competitions. It was a give-and-take relationship that you couldn’t wish differently for the world. He was truly the only friend you could lean on.

He’d driven you to college. He’d helped you unpack. All the whilst you’d frequently check up on him and stream all of his races. Somehow, the two of you made that friendship work. It was something like giving and taking. You were one of the reasons why he chose to pursue his passion. In the beginning, he felt discouraged due to the amount of pressure, but with your words of encouragement, he pulled through.

Sitting on your bed in your shared hotel room, you admired a pair of earrings that Lando had gotten for you. Apparently, he wanted to have you attend a special gathering before Friday would dawn the free practice rounds. You’d done a week’s worth of work in advance to appease your professors by your absence, so taking some days off never proved a hassle.

“Hey, can you tell me how long I have left?!” The Brit yelled from the shower. He wasn’t the type to rush, and was often “fashionably late”. Excuses of various kinds were his forté, and you could only go along with whatever ruse he brewed up every time. You didn’t mind though. He was a nice change of pace from the back-to-back seminars and classes you had to sit through.

“About 20 minutes until we have to leave!” He didn’t reply, but you knew he’d gotten the message.

You continued to eye the jewelry in your palms. It was an intricate design with different gemstones in one piece. It was quite beautiful. Something you wouldn’t see at any regular jeweler. Lando was generous, if anything. You always tried to refuse his gifts, but would eventually wake up to a present by your bedside table. There was really no stopping him. If he wanted to spoil you rotten, he was going to do it without fail. You would surely end up a soaked sponge from everything you were taking in. He didn’t ask anything in return, besides your company and support. Something as simple as that sufficed. You couldn’t understand his train of thought, but that’s what made him unique.

That’s what first made you fall for him. Slowly but surely. There was no way to tell him though. He was far too occupied to be dating, and you were swamped with work. It wasn’t in the stars for the two of you. Lando never even showed an ounce of romantic interest anyway, so all you could do was hope your feelings would die down. Simple and easy… right?

The paparazzi knew that your friendship with the McLaren driver was old news and not worth spreading rumours about, so when you arrived at the gala, there was no big fuss about it. You’d attended several events as his plus one. Additionally, you were well acquainted with the rest of the grid, by now the whole world knew that you were simply a close friend. Not a wag.

The gala was grand. From gorgeous chandeliers and fancy ceiling decor to fine dining, you couldn’t see an end to the luxury. Frat parties were a far cry from this lifestyle. Although you’d been to several gala dinners with your best friend, they only seemed to climb the sophistication ladder every year.

Since Lando had to talk to certain people at the event, you decided to mingle. What better way to move on from Lando, than to get with someone else? The least you could do was try. College boys were nothing compared to the men you saw lingering behind pillars and swirling wine.

“Oh hey, you!” Someone yelled from behind you.

“Lewis! It’s so nice to see you. We haven’t seen each other in a while.” The champion was a nice try, but you couldn’t. He was a close friend and it felt wrong. Almost as if you’d be dating your brother.

“You here with Norris?” You nodded at his question, quickly grabbing a flute of champagne as a waiter passed by.

“How’s college? I hear you’re graduating early?”

“I am! Yeah, I just took on a lot of work. I’d rather get out in the field sooner than later, you know?” You’d finish your junior year as your senior. That had been your plan from the beginning. You worked yourself to the bone, taking up extra assignments to get more credit.

“I get you, I probably would’ve done the same. You’re really admirable.” After you shot him a quick smile, the two of you were interrupted by Charles and Charlotte. It was obvious that the Monegasque had been dragged along by his girlfriend. Your favourite girl.

“Charlotte! Oh, it’s been too long!” The two of you immediately embraced each other, careful to not spill any champagne. She was stunning, wearing a gorgeous Prada maxi gown with a high slit. It was to die for, but so was your Alexander McQueen deconstructed trench dress. Anyone within a 50-kilometer radius would notice how it complimented your curves and the colour of your skin.

“It really has. It’s such a shame that I only ever get to see you at small events and at Abu Dhabi. You should come to more races. I know Lando misses you,” she teased the last part, but it still tugged at your heart. The slightest possibility that it was true… You wanted to believe it. So badly it hurt.

“He’ll have to exercise patience,” you chuckled and downed the last bit of champagne you had left. Charles and Lewis were somehow deep in conversation, so Charlotte decided to sneak you away.

The two of you were sat at a table near the back where the atmosphere was significantly heavier. It wasn’t as light as up front, but the dimmed lights made it cozy enough to sit and chat.

“So, tell me about you and Lando,” she said as if there was something between you and the McLaren driver. She knew very well that there wasn’t anything going on, but she had that feeling. You were hiding something.

“I mean… It's the same as always. We’ve been texting back and forth whilst I was busy with my classes and stuff. Nothing out of the ordinary?” It was the truth, but it definitely wasn’t what she wanted to hear. She proceeded to make that very clear to you,

“You know that’s not what I mean…”

“I don’t know what you mean, Cha.”

“Of course you do. I’ve seen the way you look at Lando. It’s very obvious.” She heavily emphasized ‘very’ and dragged out the ‘e’ in it. Charlotte was the type of person who you just couldn’t hide anything from. The girl was a literal detective.

“Is it really?” She could only nod pitifully at your question.

Sure, you’d started seeing Lando in a different light as of late. The way he walked, the way he talked, the way he looked at you as if he was in love with you whenever you spoke. You knew most of your notes were delusional. You were stuck on an island. That island being: Delusion Island.

“I hate myself.” You sighed and let your head fall onto the clothes table. Charlotte stroked the back of your head gently to console you.

“Does he know?” She posed a question she already knew the answer to, and when you didn’t respond— she confirmed it.

“I can’t tell you exactly what to do, but Lando is going to find out eventually.” You didn’t even want to think about that possibility. Burying your feelings and crushing them into oblivion was your only option and it seemed like the most viable one.

“The future version of me will have to deal with that. I can’t handle it right now.” You found little strength to pick yourself up and get another flute of champagne.

The rest of the night was spent drinking and blabbering. Charlotte was able to talk for hours on end, and so were you. It was one of the reasons the two of you were close. She was your favorite of all the drivers’ girlfriends. She and Kika both. Though you weren’t as close to Pierre as you were to most of the grid. Especially Lando.

When Lando found you again, you were absolutely shit-faced. You were slurring nonsensical words that melted together into a concoction of a drunken mess. Charlotte was just as far gone. Charles was able to carry her home though. Lando had to make a split-second decision. Was he really going to carry you?

It wasn’t a case of wanting to. He definitely did. The Brit was practically obsessed with you. For most of his life, he’d been orbiting you. Ever since the two of you were in your teens, he’d been utterly and irrevocably in love with you. You, however, were busy studying and he was busy with his growing career in racing. He was worried you’d never notice, but he also didn’t want you to. There was something holding him back. The looming doom of uncertainty. You were this gorgeous and intelligent woman, with eyes that looked as if they’d been painted by one of the greats during the era of romanticism.

Seeing you there on the table, totally blacked out and out of touch with reality, he wanted to be your knight in shining armor. For one night, he wanted to be the man of your dreams. There was one problem though. The paparazzi. He’d successfully fended them off about dating rumours between the two of you. But if he were to walk out with you slung over his back, he was feeding that bone to the hungry hounds of the media. Not exactly the best idea. It boiled down to you or his reputation. Which did he care about the most? Which would he prioritize?

“Fuck it.” He picked your drunken body up and slung it over his back, securing your arms around his neck. You weren’t heavy, but you were making it difficult for him with all of your kicking and wiggling.

“Leave me alone. I need to find Lando. Put me down,” You kept repeating words in a similar fashion until he finally brought you to his car. As he fastened your seatbelt, he saw the look on your wiped-out face. Even with runny mascara and bloodshot eyes, you were ethereal. Truly something else.

“Lando?” Hearing his name leave your lips nearly made his heart do a double take, much like his eyes.

“Yes, love?”

“I really have to use the bathroom.” How to ruin a perfect moment 101. But he could only laugh. It was cute.

“I’ll get you home in time, don’t worry darling.” He got in next to you and started the engine. The hotel wasn’t far, luckily, so you didn’t have to wait much to get your guts spilled into the toilet bowl. Lando held your hair in a makeshift ponytail, as he gently patted your back. Turning your insides out cleared your mind a little bit, and in turn, utter embarrassment filled every crook and nanny of your body. You felt it all the way to the tips of your fingers clutching the toilet seat.

“Ugh, you shouldn’t see me like this, Lan.” You sighed and fell back into his arms. He didn’t mind this. He let you rest there, whilst you slowly started drifting off. The alcohol levels were still rising and you weren’t coming down anytime soon. You were tired. Your eyes threatened to close.

“I don’t care. I really don’t. You mean the world to me. Something like this doesn’t matter to me.” He clutched you like he did his stuffed animals when he was a little boy. There was a newfound comfort in doing this. Something that he knew was limited. Something he knew he’d never get to experience again.

“I’m only telling you this because I know you won’t remember it,” Lando began, as he didn’t want to miss the opportunity,

“I love it when you give me attention. I love it when you cheer me on. Nobody’s opinion matters, but yours. I really only care about yours. I know you don’t feel the same way, but you’re all I think about, You’ve all I’ve ever thought about since we were teenagers. It’s stupid, I know. That’s why I’m saying it now.” Despite the lack of response, his chest felt lighter. Much lighter.

You woke up in your bed with a pounding head and an unreal nausea. Shit. You were going to miss Lando’s practice sessions. You were still in your expensive designer dress, but your makeup had been washed off. On the bedside table, you saw a piece of paper. “Don’t worry about today. Just relax and I’ll be back later. See you. -Lando”. Was there really no end to his thoughtfulness?

“Fuck me, my head…” You groaned and haphazardly made your way to the bathroom. With no ibuprofen let alone Panadol, a splash of water to the face was the only cure. That or a cold shower.

You decided on the latter. After stripping out of your dress, you stepped into the shower and turned it on. The initial sensation of the icy water made your body feel almost electrical, but it soon subsided.

It was hard to recollect any memories from the night before. All that was left in your brain was flashes of Charlotte and more than just a few flutes of champagne. No matter how desperate you were for more information, you simply couldn’t retrieve it. Just trying to think back made your head pound even harder than it already was.

As you stepped out and dressed in one of Lando’s hoodies with some shorts, you fell back into bed. Your body felt too heavy to sit up straight, and you were still subconsciously trying to remember more details.

“I’m never drinking again…” you sighed and eyed the off-white ceiling. Your train of thought trailed towards the McLaren driver. The way he always looked out for you and took care of you if you needed it. You’d never been in any relationships, but you knew that Lando was the perfect guy. He was exactly what you were looking for. It was nothing but a chimera. You could only wish to feel the warmth of his chest against your head.

Speak of the devil, you heard the door open and saw Lando trying to get in without making much noise. He could’ve sworn his heart tumbled around inside his chest when he saw you in his hoodie. The way your shorts were barely visible due to his size being bigger than yours… it did wonders to his imagination.

“You’re awake,” he groaned as he put his things on the ground beside the door.

“That I am.” You smiled and watched as he let his tired body fall back onto his bed, cracking his neck and sighing in relief.

“Need a massage?”

“That’d be great, actually.” After he dragged his tired body to your bed, the two of you shifted in the bed, so that his head was in your criss-crossed laps. You proceeded to work the kinks in his shoulders, pressing your thumb against his skin in circles. The satisfaction on his face was enough to make the rest of your weekend.

“Why study when you can be a masseuse?”

“I’m not that good, Lan.” You moved onto his neck, which you found out was the place he needed to be kneaded the most. He flinched and seethed through his teeth, obviously feeling the exhaustion from the g force on-track.

“Sorry, it hurts. You’ll have to endure it until the pain subsides. It’ll feel good soon. I promise.” As you continued to work his neck, the Brit couldn’t help but take a peek at your face. Your eyes met his and it felt somewhat domestic. It was then, he realized just how domestic the situation was. You were both in bed, with him in your lap and you giving him a massage. That little hope he had left turned into determination. Even if you most likely weren’t into him, he’d want to fight. He wasn’t patient enough to wait around, and with your college situation almost coming to an end— it was the perfect time to make a move.

You felt your face heat up at the eye contact. Never did you even think that he’d be so bold. Yet, you couldn’t pull away from his gaze. You were completely lost in him. A tinge of lament filled your chest, knowing that you’d be selfish to do something in the moment. He was busy racing and probably saw you as a sister anyway. A kiss was completely off the table.

“There you go. Does it feel better?” You let go of him for his own sake. He got up and stretched, noticing how much lighter he felt.

“You’re amazing, thanks for that.” Just seeing his smile had to be enough for you.

You sat beside Charlotte as the two of you watched the qualifying session in full swing. She wore a vintage summer dress, whilst you’d gone for a sophisticated but simple jumpsuit look.

“I missed the practice rounds yesterday,” you groaned and facepalmed.

“Don’t worry, I did too. There was no way I was getting out of bed with that headache,” she chuckled and fiddled with her phone to take pictures as Charles approached the view. She managed to capture his car speeding by and cheered him on with a wide smile on her face.

“So, what are you going to do about Lando?” She tilted her head to the side and gave you her undivided attention.

“I don’t know. He doesn’t even like me, why should I even try? I mean can you even hear what I’m saying? ‘Like’? It’s as if I’m back in high school. It’s so childish.” You desperately wanted to forget about him, but it would break him if you started distancing yourself. You were the closest friend he ever had and you knew it.

“Childish? It’s normal. You’re into him and if he doesn’t see how great that is, he’s just not worth it.” She was the voice of reason you depended on to save your life.

“Cha, I don’t want to lose him.” You saw a livery with the number ‘4’ on it. Your chest felt tight as it sped past you.

“You won’t, okay? You won’t lose him. I mean, the two of you share a hotel room. Separate beds, but a hotel room nonetheless. Ever wondered why he doesn’t just get you your own room?” She had a pretty clear point, but in your land of delusion— it was useless. It was nonsense.

“I don’t know, Cha… he probably does it ‘cause it’s cheaper, you know?” You wanted to believe her, but a part of you couldn’t take the risk.

“The fact that he let you sleep in until he came back late yesterday… I mean, come on.”

“I guess? When he came back, I offered him a massage and we had this weird moment. I don’t know if that’s just me though.” Charlotte had to do a double take at what just came out of your mouth.

“You did what?!”

“Quiet, please. I don’t want all of the paddock to know!” She proceeded to spill out a slew of quiet apologies.

“You’re telling me he let you massage him after midnight? That’s not just you. That is a moment. Why would you even doubt this?” You shrugged and sighed. Were you just missing all the signs? Were you really that dense?

“Okay, look. How about you go ask Kelly to ask Max about him?” It wasn’t a bad idea per se. There was one problem though. You almost never talked to Kelly, only ever passing by her in the paddock with a smile and a wave.

“I don’t really know her though. How can I ask something like that of her?” You were nearing the end of your rope, wanting to give up and let the last slither of hope you had left get crushed.

“Any woman would help out another desperate one.” Desperate. Was that really what you were being branded as? Perhaps it was accurate. Kelly really was your last ticket out of Delusion Land.

“Fine. I’ll go ask her, but where is she?” Charlotte pointed down, signaling she was in the garage. If that wouldn’t be awkward, you didn’t know what it would be.

“Shit, fine. Wish me luck.”

“You don’t need it.”

Charlotte turned out to be right. Kelly was in the garage with a set of headphones on. Her focus on the screen in front of her showed her dedication to her lover. Something you’d want to do for Lando… if only that’d ever happen. You approached her with a strong heartbeat, and a slight shortness of breath, and tapped her shoulder. Noticing you, she took her headphones off and smiled,

“Hey there?” The higher octave by the end went a long way to show her confusion. In her eyes, you were just an acquaintance. Neither of you had ever made any small talk and whatnot. So when you pulled her aside, she was completely lost.

“What’s going on?” She asked and furrowed her eyebrows.

“I need your help… I’m kind of desperate.” Having those words leave your mouth was beyond embarrassing and you felt so childish.

“Oh? I do think I have some stuff in my purse if you’ll give me a moment—”

“No no! That’s not what I need at all!” Fuck. You were getting cold feet. Standing there in front of her like a fool was somehow worse than just confessing.

“So then… what do you need?”

“Max.” Your mind was too scrambled to even string a coherent sentence together. Kelly’s eyes flew open and her face grimaced.

“No! Um, I need you to ask Max something.” She squinted her eyes in suspicion but was willing to hear you out.

“Could you please ask him if he knows anything about Lando? Just anything at all? As in… if Lando has any feelings for me. Just casually, you know?” Kelly was obviously relieved enough to help you out, so she gave you a thumbs up and the two of you exchanged socials so that she could update you. Weird way to make friends, but whatever.

You decided not to go back up to Charlotte, but take a little trip to the Mercedes garage. The team had made a blunder which left their no. 1 driver out of Q2. You went in to chat him up and possibly console him. He was a great friend, and you needed to take your mind off Lando for a bit.

Lando finished qualifying in the front row behind Max, which left him feeling better than ever. When he saw that you weren’t in your usual spot though, a mix of emotions tumbled over him like that of a flood. You were in the Mercedes garage for some reason, talking to none other than Lewis. He saw the way you almost choked when laughing at his jokes. The way you looked at him. Listening and being attentive was a special talent of yours. Whoever you’d look at, it would always look as if you were deeply infatuated with them. All because you were one hell of a listener. It was one of the many things Lando adored about you.

“Mate, what are you staring at?” Max slung an arm around Lando’s neck and looked in the same direction to spot whatever the Brit was so invested in.

“Oh… I see. You’re jealous.” Lando snapped out of it and felt his head drop.

“Nah man, I just wanted to see how Lewis was doing.”

“That’s bullshit.” It was. Seeing you be so close with another man, let alone another driver— it was too much for him. He’d done subtle things to get you to notice his feelings. Always booking just one hotel room, Driving you to your college campus, calling you whenever you had time— even if it meant he’d have to miss out on a good night’s sleep.

“You should tell her.” Lando nearly lost it when you pulled the Mercedes in for a hug. Luckily though, it was short and you left shortly after. Conveniently enough, you noticed Lando with Max, which sent him into a state of panic.

“What do I do?”

“Just do whatever you think is right.” As you approached the two of them, Max waved and left the two of you to talk. Lando was frazzled and it was obvious.

“Hey, what’s up? Congrats on the position, Lan. I’m proud of you!” Your smile and your excitement regarding his near-win were enough to squeeze his heart dry for juice.

“Thanks, I’m glad you’re here to see it.” The two of you began walking towards the McLaren motorhome when you felt your phone buzz in your pocket. It was a text from Kelly. Unfortunately, Lando was right beside you and managed to see the notification.

“You hang out with Kelly?”

“Um well, yeah! We talk all the time. I thought you knew?” You deserved an Oscar for that quick save.

“Nice, we should go on a double date with Max and her soon.” You nearly cracked your neck, turning to face him.

“Excuse me?”

“Hey, calm down. It was a joke.” That was half the truth. In reality, he just wanted to see your reaction to the suggestion. Something told him Max didn’t have a point.

“Mhm.” You rolled your eyes at him and rested your hands on your hips.

“Actually, I have something important to tell you when we get back to the hotel.” Something didn’t feel right about him saying that. He rarely talked about serious things, but his tone was almost anxious. It was a side of him you’d never seen before.

When you finally got back to your shared room, you changed into something more comfortable whilst Lando took a shower. You went through your nightly routine; stripping your face of makeup, rubbing serum into your pores, and caring for the roots of your hair. Spoiling yourself was important to you. Almost as important as studying, really.

“Hey, can you pass me the comb?” You’d been too distracted to notice Lando finishing. You found the comb in the drawer of the vanity, turning to hand it to him. That’s when you saw him. Fresh nightwear and still dripping wet hair. It was the most attractive thing you’d ever witnessed in your entire life. Including meeting several heartthrob celebrities at races.

“You’re staring, you know?” Oh, you knew.

“So are you.” He was. His eyes searched for something behind yours. Any sign that you one day could be his.

“Touché.” He combed through his hair with a serum. Hair and skin care was something that you’d forced upon him. Safe to say you changed the rest of his life for the better.

He finished up and tugged himself under the fluffy white duvet. It was sort of contradictory sleeping with air conditioning, but still tugging yourself under heavy covers. He was cute. You weren’t nearly as tired as he was yet, so you decided to scroll through your socials before finally dozing off. The two of you had completely forgotten about what the curly-haired brunette had wanted to talk about. It didn’t matter though, as it was only a matter of time before it was going to be revealed.

You’d done your hair and makeup, spending nearly two hours total perfecting yourself. Lando waited by the door, calling your name several times. With the last puff of your setting powder, you quickly gathered your things and ran for the door. The Brit seemed stoked for the race, but that wasn’t the only thing his insides were churning for.

The two of you arrived at the paddock in style. You wore a Vivienne Westwood tennis skirt, paired with a knitted sweater from the same collection. Your purse was Prada, and your shoes were Yves Saint Laurent. Lando had showed up in Quadrant merchandise, whilst also rocking a pair of shorts, courtesy of McLaren.

The Brit brunette was going to aim for pole position in Abu Dhabi, and he was going to confess before the interviews. That was his plan. Though a sappy one, he knew you’d appreciate the sentiment nonetheless.

You had once again decided to observe the race with Charlotte. Being in the garage was far too hectic with all of the engineers watching the race in anticipation. Sure, you were rooting for Lando, but you were no fanatic like them. Nor were you extremely loud about it. However, you definitely understood their passion. If it was your job, you would’ve been just as hyped and on edge for every race.

“Do you think Lando is going to win?” Charlotte asked, leaning against the railing overlooking the pit lane.

“Maybe. I can’t say for sure. I mean, he did well in qualifying?” You were quite literally manifesting a pole position for him. If you had a sigil and a set of candles, you would’ve performed a ritual. It wasn’t so much of an obsession as it was pure dedication to your best friend. What it really was— was love. You were utterly and hopelessly in love with the man. From the way he’d laugh at your sub-par jokes, to the way he’d drive you to and from campus.

“I think he’s going to win.” Charlotte was usually cheering her boyfriend on, but this time was completely different. She was rooting for you.

“What makes you say that?”

“Love.”

Lando managed to squeeze in a photo finish, nearly missing out on pole. All of the McLaren team gave you space to embrace him. The hug felt tighter than usual. Almost as if he was saying “I made it”.

“Lando, this is amazing! I am so so so proud of you.” That brief moment felt like heaven on earth to him.

“Can I tell you something?” He leaned in, but not too close for comfort.

“Yeah?”

“I’m so tired of chasing and I want to stop it. You can deny my feelings, but I have completely fallen for you.” You hesitated as your heart felt like it had been caught in your throat. You felt a strike of heat reach your face, watching Lando wait eagerly for your response. Shame you were at a loss for words, but then again— perhaps a blessing?

You immediately pulled him in for a kiss, hearing all of the fans roar and the teams gasp. Lando melted into it, cupping your cheeks with his hands. You felt the soft material of his gloves against your skin. When you finally pulled away, you decided to give him a proper response,

“You have me, as long as I have you.”

𝗥𝗲𝗾𝘂𝗲𝘀𝘁𝘀 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝗰𝘂𝗿𝗿𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗹𝘆 𝗰𝗹𝗼𝘀𝗲𝗱...

𝗜 𝘄𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝗺𝗮𝗸𝗲 𝗮 𝗽𝗼𝗶𝗻𝘁 𝗶𝗻 𝗮𝗻𝗻𝗼𝘂𝗻𝗰𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘄𝗵𝗲𝗻 𝗿𝗲𝗾𝘂𝗲𝘀𝘁𝘀 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝗼𝗽𝗲𝗻 𝗮𝗴𝗮𝗶𝗻.

𝘾𝙝𝙚𝙘𝙠 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙧𝙪𝙡𝙚𝙨 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙧𝙚𝙜𝙪𝙡𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨 𝙗𝙚𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙦𝙪𝙚𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙥𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙚!

𝙃𝙚𝙧𝙚’𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙢𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

𝙃𝙚𝙧𝙚’𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙩𝙖𝙜𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩! (𝙄𝙛 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙬𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙩𝙤 𝙜𝙚𝙩 𝙤𝙣, 𝙥𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙚 𝙬𝙧𝙞𝙩𝙚 𝙞𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙨, 𝙙𝙢𝙨, 𝙤𝙧 𝙖𝙨𝙠𝙨: 𝙒𝙝𝙞𝙘𝙝 𝙙𝙧𝙞𝙫𝙚𝙧(𝙨) 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙬𝙝𝙞𝙘𝙝 𝙩𝙮𝙥𝙚(𝙨) 𝙤𝙛 𝙛𝙞𝙘𝙨 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙬𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙩𝙤 𝙗𝙚 𝙩𝙖𝙜𝙜𝙚𝙙 𝙞𝙣.)

[gabessquishytum]

Glad to have you open again! To celebrate, we love us some Professor Hob with student Dream, and we love us some mafia au, so why not combine the two?

Morpheus Endless is fully aware of what the family business is, and that at some point in the future he will likely be asked if he wants to find his own niche in it—and he probably will. For now though he doesn’t really care about all that so long as he’s able to use his family’s resources to get what he wants (he’s rather spoiled and rarely been told “no”).

The latest thing he wants is his college history professor Hob Gadling. He’s handsome, charming, and kind, and Morpheus spends most of his classes fantasizing about taking him out on dates to fancy restaurants and kissing him under the stars (or bringing him back home and laying him out on Morpheus’ expensive silk sheets, depending on whether he’s feeling more horny or romantic that day). He generously waits for his guards to stalk him gather information on him and perform a background check, but otherwise he doesn’t pine in silence very long before approaching Professor Gadling to ask him on a date.

Hob is by now accustomed to the occasional crush from his students, and has been propositioned by some a handful of times. Admittedly this is the first student to expressly ask him out (as opposed to just requesting an opportunity for “extra credit”), and he’s honestly a little flattered. But he decided early on that he wouldn’t be the kind of teacher who becomes involved with his students, so he does his best to turn Morpheus down as gently and kindly as he can.

In response, a tearful Morpheus goes directly to his chief bodyguard, the Corinthian, and demands he fix the situation.

That is how Hob, after being threatened persuaded to reconsider, finds himself sitting across from Morpheus (who has a pretty good idea how Hob was persuaded, but doesn’t care so long as it means he’s here) at dinner at one of the finest restaurants in town. He had no idea that his student, a kid who looked like a stiff breeze could blow him away, was mobbed up. However he does have a bit of experience with this type of spoiled, and he’s pretty sure that if he just plays along a little and bides his time, Morpheus will discover some new shiny plaything to distract him and leave him alone again.

(Little does Hob know that it only takes a handful of dates for Morpheus to become even more besotted, and his fantasies are quickly evolving into turning Hob into his perfect little mafia wife…)

-🪽anon

Thank you so much friendo, this is a great prompt to get back in with!

I'm imagining how that conversation with the Corinthian went down for Hob. Did he show up at Hob’s office hours?

Cori: It's about Morpheus. He's infatuated with you and wants you to join him on a date.

Hob: ah, I know. But nothing appropriate happened, I promise I turned him down-

Cori: that is precisely the problem *reveals knife in jacket pocket*

...anyway, for the sake of his physical wellbeing, Hob shows up to dinner with Morpheus. In a way, the whole situation is quite funny for Hob (a grown, mature adult). This spoiled little brat thinks he can buy anything and anyone apparently, but one day he'll surely learn that money and power aren't everything. Hob is smiling into his wine glass, somewhat amused by the little mafia prince's attempts at seduction.

But Morpheus is unhinged, as well as spoiled, and his attention doesn't wander away from Hob. Weeks and months of dates pass by, with Hob refusing to do more than kiss his cheek after dinner. Morpheus is growing impatient. Hob is his boyfriend, they should be doing more than making small talk and barely touching! And so, Hob gets a second visit from the Corinthian.

And now Hob’s feeling kind of worried. Because Morpheus seems to be genuinely obsessed with him, and Cori has made it clear that Hob needs to start behaving like a doting lover, or there will be consequences. Involving the knife.

So, he is sucked in deeper to Morpheus’s life. There are more dates; these ones more intimate than before as they take place in Morpheus’s large private apartment. They're alone together at last, and then it's a little easier for Hob to pretend that it's all normal and okay. Kissing Morpheus feels good. Accepting gifts from him feels easy. Being touched by him... Well, at least nobody else will ever have to know. And Morpheus is quite a little sweetheart, really. Maybe because he has the Corinthian to do all the dirty work for him...

It'll be the Corinthian who finally "persuades" Hob to give up his job and be the "support" that Morpheus needs as he takes his place in the family business. Hob has a responsibility to keep Morpheus happy at home now. Isn't that more important? Because Hob does love Morpheus. He just wishes sometimes that they could have a normal life together.

And standing in the purple satin evening gown that Morpheus requested, draped all over in diamonds and rubies, smiling dutifully at the other members of the family, Hob can't help but wonder if Morpheus will keep him forever. Because at this point, Hob’s not sure what he'd do without him...

[khaire-traveler]

Hey. Do you maybe have some books you'd recommend? And how did you learn?

Hey, Nonny!

For books, most modern ones I am in the process of reading or I have in my "to read" list. Hellenic Polytheism: Household Worship by Labrys is one that I've mentioned a few times now. I'm still in the process of getting through it, but it's interesting so far! For another modern book, I've been told Greek Religion by Walter Burkert is good, but it's still on my "to read" list. I've also been told Hellenismos by Tony Mierzwicki is good for beginners, but apparently isn't the best if you're already pretty acquainted with Greek polytheism. It's something that is also on my "to read" list, though I'm not too interested in it after hearing it's not as good to read as an experienced practitioner. A modern book I'm really excited to start reading is Worshipping Olympus by Hester Butler! I haven't seen many people talk about it, but it's a book with various modern hymns to the Greek pantheon. I hope I can check it out soon!

Regarding ancient sources (which I love reading the most), here's what I've got. If you're interested in magic, I suggest reading the Greek Magical Papyri which has a ton of useful knowledge regarding ancient Greek magic. The ancient books I've enjoyed the most so far have been The Iliad (Homer), The Odyssey (Homer), Theogony (Hesiod), The Library of Greek Mythology (Apollodorus), and The Bacchae (Euripedes). I tend to enjoy reading ancient plays, too, although I suppose they don't technically count as books, I guess. Also, I haven't read it, but I've been told Works And Days (Hesiod) has some good devotional pieces included in it; I'm not entirely sure how accurate that is, however. Not books, but I also really enjoyed reading the Homeric and Orphic hymns to the gods! The Orphic hymns are my favorite due to their poetic phrasing.

As for how I got my education, it's mostly from four years of experience and research. I do quite a lot of research (lots done in the beginning of my practice but still doing so today) and have read many historically educational articles. I'm friends with quite a few classics and history majors as well which definitely helped lol. I mostly focused on the historical side of things (ancient resources) first and foremost when gathering information, as I find it to be more trustworthy. I've learned that the best way to avoid misinformation tends to be looking into the original sources yourself, to the best of your ability. Doing so has saved me a lot of time and headaches. I'd recommend anyone to do the same.

I'm not sure if this is what you were looking for or interested in, but I hope this helps! I know more about historical books and sources than modern ones, so I'd recommend asking @teawiththegods , who has read and discussed many modern books, if that's more your style. Hope you enjoy my recommendations anyway. c: Have a good day/night! 🧡

[gothgirlmahi]

Stocking Stuffer

Pairing: Violent Night (David Harbour) Santa Claus x Reader

Summary: Santa calls you into his office for a private meeting.

Warnings: breeding kink, size kink, unprotected sex, role play, use of “good girl”

Word Count: 1.7K

This was not good. This was not good at all. Never in your life had you been so behind on toy making! This year was insane!

Things weren’t like this a century ago. You could do dolls and toy cars and all sorts of board games with ease. But the kids today? It was Xbox and PlayStation and games you had never even heard of. iPhones and Fortnite and whatever else. It was never ending! It was like Santa wanted to work you all to death!

There was no possible way to keep up with it and he should have known that. You’d been meticulously checking the date and the time crunch was killing you. Every second closer to Christmas was another second you were running behind. You would finish in time, there was no doubt about that. Given that you were the leader for your team, you had a lot of pressure on you. Santa expected his elves to be hard working and pumping out those presents constantly. Normally you all could deliver, but this was obviously no normal year!

He had to understand that, right?

Apparently not. At least that’s what you suspected when you were called from your work station. One of the head elves came to collect you while you were working diligently at your desk. You couldn’t understand what could be so important to tell you during work hours. Then he dropped the bomb that Santa wanted to see you personally.

Look. You had seen Santa plenty of times when he was giving speeches and instructions, but never alone. What if he was mad at you? Oh god, what if he fired you? Could you all even get fired? Maybe you’d been watching too many human TV shows. Whatever was going on, it had your palms sweaty and your heart racing.

He led you to Santa’s office and left. Leaving you to stare down those big red and white doors you had never been inside without others to accompany you. You supposed it was now or never so you knocked.

“Who is it?” he responded after a moment’s silence. You said your name and he made a noise in affirmation before the door was pulled open.

You drew in a breath in awe as you looked up at him.

Of course you’d seen Santa plenty of times but hardly ever got this close to him. It was funny. None of the interpretations ever seemed to do him any justice. He wasn’t just some chubby old man with a white beard. He was, to your own admission, a very attractive man. With a grey beard and pretty hair that you sometimes dreamed of raking your fingers through. And he was so big. Tall, you mean. You of course didn’t know how big he was in any other areas.

Of course not.

“Just who I wanted to see. Come in.” He moved aside to let you in the door. You walked in and he closed the door behind you.

You’d been in his office before but never really had the time to look around. It was filled with little knickknacks and decorations, lots of red and white decor, and candy canes hanging from nearly every surface possible.

He gestured for you to sit in one of the chairs in front of his desk and you did, while he went and sat at his own chair behind the desk. The stern expression on his face did nothing to settle your unease.

“I hear your unit is behind this year. Do you care to explain?”

You were fully ready to grovel and beg. So you did.

“It’s been hard this year. You know, with gathering supplies and making the toys. I’ve never been late before! I’m certain we’ll have everything ready by Christmas Eve.”

He nodded, arms folded and a thoughtful look on his face.

“I hope you’re right. Everything must be ready on time. Wouldn’t it be tragic if we couldn’t deliver on our promises to the children? Imagine their sad faces.”

The thought of it made you want to cry. You’d never want to make a child sad! Your whole life revolved around creating things to make them happy!

“I’m sorry, Santa! We will have everything finished in time. We’ll do as much overtime as possible and get it done.”

He nodded before pressing his fingers to his temples, massaging them gently.

“This stress of this year has taken such a great toll on me. I’ve found myself in dire need of relief.”

Santa looked terribly stressed. You pushed forward in your chair, leaning over the desk.

“You shouldn’t feel so bad. None of this is your own fault. We’re all dealing with so many issues this year. Is there anything I can do to help you?”

“Well, there might be one thing. I was looking down in your section and you’re very productive. It’s just, that area isn’t great with stocking stuffers. We’ve had this problem with your section year after year and I think you need a demonstration.”

“A demonstration? On how to…make stocking stuffers?”

Santa shrugged folding his hands as he sat back in his chair.

“I was thinking more so a demonstration on getting stuffed.”

You blinked in confusion.

“I’m not sure I understand.”

Santa gave you a smile and a nod.

“Stand up and I’m sure I can show you.”

You stood up and carefully eyed the man in front of you as he rounded the desk, coming to stand right behind you. When you went to turn around, he held his hands firmly on your shoulders to keep you from moving. He pressed a strong hand to the middle of your back, slowly pushing you down until your upper half was flat on his desk.

When you felt him press his hips against yours, your eyes widened in surprise.

“I think I get it now,” you said, waiting in anxious anticipation for what he was going to do to you.

“You always were a smart one. Now just relax.”

He pushed your skirt up so it bunched around your waist then you heard him fiddling with the zipper of his pants. He easily ripped your panties off of you and threw them somewhere in his office.

You let out a gasp as the head of his cock pressed through your wet folds. He pushed into you slowly until his hips met your ass. Both of you groaned once he bottomed out. Santa took a firm grip in the meat of your thighs and slowly pulled out just to go back in with a vicious thrust that ripped a scream from you. He took up an absolute maniacal rhythm that had you moaning with each meeting of your skin.

“I needed this,” he murmured. His voice sounded strained.

You pressed your cheek into the desk, face staring at the wall but body fully immersed in what he was doing to you. One particular thrust had your back arching towards him and your nails digging into the wood below you.

“Oh, is that it? Is that your spot?”

Santa gently set one of your legs up on the desk and pounded you, making a wet slapping noise that echoed through the room. The change in position also enabled him to hit that spot again and again and again until your eyes were rolling my back.

“Santa, please! Fuck me! Oh my god, fuck me!”

He groaned, shuddering a bit when your cunt squeezed around him.

“Call me Nick.”

His cock felt amazing inside you. Thick and hitting every good spot imaginable. We’re you drooling? Oh, that would be so embarrassing. But you could barely form a thought past the thick meat slamming into your little pussy.

“This tiny cunt feels so fucking good strangling my cock. Fuck, with a cunt like this, you’ve gotta be on the naughty list.”

“No, no,” you begged, “I’ve been so good.”

“Shh. I know you’ve been good. You’re always so good for me. This cunt is mine. Only mine. You’re always so fucking good for me.”

“I’ll be so good,” you but your lip as you felt yourself getting close to tumbling off the edge, “always good for you.”

“Mmhmm. Good girls cum when asked. Are you gonna cum for me, gorgeous?”

“I—“ you couldn’t get your reply out before he was reaching under both of you to roughly rub at your clit. Your legs shook as you creamed around him. You were fairly certain you felt a little trickle of liquid come out of you while he kept pounding you, prolonging your orgasm and making you go absolutely stupid on his dick.

“I’m gonna give you your present a little early, honey. Shit, I can’t last much longer.”

“Please,” was the only thing you could manage to murmur.

“Santa’s gonna give you something special only you can have. But it’s gonna take nine months to get.”

You squeezed around him even tighter after hearing that, pulling a strangled groan from him as he filled you with his warm cream. The feeling of being filled by him had you coming again, writhing around and shaking while he kept your hips in place. He came so much it was dripping down your thighs and onto the floor.

When he finally pulled out, he stopped to press a kiss to your back. You were too exhausted to move.

“You were right,” he said, “I like the role play. It’s fun.”

“I told you. It’s nice to switch things up now and then,” you said, still with your cheek against the desk. He laughed and trailed his finger down your dripping sex, causing you to jolt a bit.

“As long as I get to fill you with baby batter, I’ll do whatever you want.”

“Fuck, Nick! I told you to stop calling it baby batter! It’s weird!”

“It is baby batter. Isn’t that’s the whole point?”

“Yeah, but I mean…” you trailed off, pushing yourself off the desk with some help from your husband. You felt your combined fluids steadily leaking out of you and crossed your legs uncomfortably.

“We are kind of behind on production, though,” he murmured, leaning down to get closer to eye level with you. You stood on your tippy toes to press a kiss to his lips.

“Back to work for both of us then,” you said, fixing your skirt. He nodded with a smile.

“Back to work, Mrs. Claus.”