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loveinhawkins · 11 months

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Steve gets the idea from Dustin and Robin, in a roundabout way: Robin insists on buying a camping stove from The War Zone, which Dustin pounces upon with glee as soon as he notices it.

“Oh, we’re cooking with gas now,” he says, which is the worst pun Steve has heard thus far.

Eddie snorts, almost but not quite hidden underneath the sound of the engine. Steve smiles.

“Y’know there’s a stove right here?” he asks in benign exasperation, gestures behind him to the little kitchen area of the RV.

“Steve,” Robin says, “that’s not as fun.”

“Yeah, come on, Steve! It’ll be like at Camp Know Where—”

“Know Nothing,” Steve mutters automatically.

“—we oft dined al fresco.”

“Oft,” Eddie parrots, and Steve can faintly feel the movement of him laughing, from where he’s pressed up against the back of the driver’s seat. “Al fresco. Henderson, what lab did they make you in?”

“Eddie, either shut up or back me up, I wanna get a culturally enriching experience outta this.”

“Oh, excuse me, didn’t realise this was a field trip.”

“You’re excused.”

“Okay,” Steve cuts in, “have fun playing at camping, Henderson, but don’t come crying to me if you, like, blow yourself up.”

Robin chuckles. “Such a happy camper.”

“Boo,” Steve says flatly.

He parks the RV a little bit away from a store just off the main road—heads in alone as it’ll draw less attention. Out loud, he says it’s so he can focus without hearing whining pleas to buy junk food, whether Dustin-approved or not, but he already knows he’ll cater to each and every one of the group’s demands.

Eddie, surprisingly, doesn’t put in a request, says he’s happy to just go along with whatever everyone else wants—a far cry from when Nancy had relayed, with more amusement than frustration, “He said he wants a six-pack.”

Steve figures that the whole being wanted for murder thing would kill anyone’s appetite, but it still makes his stomach sink, that the most substantial meal Eddie’s gotten a chance to eat has been lukewarm Spaghettios.

They set up ‘camp’ in a field, and Robin’s the first to rush outside, shortly followed by Dustin, both intent on using the stove she’s bought.

Steve leaves them all to it, kind of enjoys the temporary peace of just messing about in the RV on his own—it gives him enough time to find where some crockery is kept, anyway.

He’s heating up chicken noodle soup on the stove when Eddie comes back in and tells him, “They got it working, no explosions yet.”

“Oh, miracles can happen. Good timing, by the way.” Steve switches the burner off, pours the soup into a bowl and sets it down on the table—where he’s already laid out a spoon. “Yours is ready.”

At first he doesn’t think the silence is all that unusual. He’s not really looking either, focusing on rinsing out the pan he’d used. But when he does glance up, it’s to see Eddie just standing there, looking at the bowl of soup and blinking rapidly.

It’s almost like… almost like he’s—

“Woah, hey,” Steve says, “what’s wrong?”

“Nothing!” Eddie says, even though he’s still quite clearly tearing up. “Absolutely nothing. Jesus Christ.” He groans, presses a couple of fingers to the inner corner of his eyes. “This is fucking mortifying, just pretend you didn’t—ugh.”

In barely a blink, he shuts himself away in the bathroom.

Steve opens his mouth. Closes it. Tries again. “Hate soup that much, huh?”

A watery laugh from behind the door. “No.”

There’s a silence. Steve dries the pan and puts it away before calling, “It’s gonna get cold!”

It won’t for a while yet; he can still see tendrils of steam rising from the bowl.

There’s a long, drawn out sigh, and then Eddie opens the door, sidles in to take a seat at the table.

For a moment, Steve thinks he isn’t going to acknowledge it, which is fine. But as Eddie picks up the spoon he says, head down, “It’s just. That was, uh. Really—really nice.”

Steve’s concern abates a little; he can’t help giving a slight smirk. “Would it help if I was mean instead?”

Eddie laughs again, no tears in it this time. He shrugs with a grin. “Do whatever you want, man.”

He’s eating slowly, his spoon dragging through the soup. His eyes seem distant.

“It’s just… I miss—” His voice threatens to break, but doesn’t quite get there. “I miss… home.”

Before Steve can think of a reasonable reply, Eddie scoffs, rolling his eyes. He drops the spoon with a clatter. “God, that sounds so—”

“It doesn’t,” Steve interrupts.

“Yeah, sure.” Eddie picks up the spoon again, keeps scraping it against the bottom of the bowl.

“Dude, what did I tell you? You’ve gotta give yourself a break.”

Steve pauses, stuck on what to say next.

He can’t even relate, honestly. Home has long become something he couldn’t… Something he couldn’t really miss, exactly.

It’s ever-changing: the luxury of eating a late breakfast in History; the crunch of leaves underfoot as he walked the railroad tracks with Dustin; the chill of the freezer in Scoops Ahoy, Robin’s snorting laugh bouncing off the walls.

Now it’s his car radio playing as he gives rides on busy school mornings. A high school basketball game. A goddamn video store.

“I think you have this thing,” Steve says slowly.

“A promising start,” Eddie says, lips twitching.

He’s finished the soup. The sight spurs Steve on.

“I think you have this thing,” he repeats, more confidently, “where you think that, like, we’re seasoned monster-killers, and you’re—”

“Uh, speaking objectively, Harrington, that’s kinda what you are.”

“My point is,” Steve says, “that you don’t need to—shit, I don’t know, man. Just. You don’t need to apologise or whatever. You’re doing fine.”

Eddie blinks. He’s cupping the empty bowl with his hands, breathing a little deeper, like the residual warmth is calming.

And that Steve can relate to: in the days after Starcourt, when Robin pretty much dragged him to her house, empty thanks to her folks visiting extended family. They both pretended that they just wanted to stay up late because they could, because they were just teenagers enjoying the summer, and Robin had made shitty hot chocolate from a powder, heating up milk on the stove; when Steve complained that he could hardly enjoy it through a busted lip, she’d said, still jittery, “I just thought—it’s just nice to hold, y’know?”

She was right.

One of Eddie’s fingers starts tapping against the bowl, the underside of his ring making a series of restless clinks. Steve wants to still his hand, gently press it further into the warmth. Settle him.

Eddie stands up with the bowl.

“I can—”

“Nah, I’ve got it,” Eddie says, already at the sink. He turns on the faucet, smiles. “Thanks, by the way.”

It’s so simple, so domestic, and all of a sudden, Steve’s struck with a thought: oh, I want this.

“No problem. I’ll get you something better, after… um, everything.”

Eddie chuckles. “Oh, Jesus, I think I actually would kill for some fries.”

Steve clicks his fingers. “So we’ll make it happen.”

“We?”

“Yeah, I hate to break it to you, man, but as soon as they hear about free fries—” Steve jerks his head towards the chatter outside, “—they’re gonna demand to come with, they’re like piranhas.”

He expects Eddie to play up the joke, to groan and complain.

But while he does laugh, Eddie just sighs before saying in earnest, “That sounds fucking fantastic.”

And his eyes are warm and fond, like maybe he’s found another home in all of them, too.

#another ‘throwaway’ line from a previous ficlet wouldn’t let me go #pre steddie #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #steve and robin #steve and the party #eddie and the party #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steve and dustin #eddie and dustin

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meowzfordayz · 9 months

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shiny

Author’s Note: sooo this was supposed to be for a college au, secretly dating trope suggestion (as well as for an emergency request for fluff 😅)… but then The H*rny™️ hit 🥴, and uhh, it turned into its own lil thing. 😏

shiny

Shinazugawa Sanemi x Reader

Word Count: ~2,200

CW: 18+NSFW, cream!pie, explicit language, Fem!Reader

~faqs~

“Sanemi, don’t you think she’s a little out of your league?”

Obanai’s stern tone does little to soften the reality behind his question, Sanemi once more reminded of why he can only watch—can only yearn—from a safe distance of ten physical feet, five invisible rungs on the social ladder, and one gigantic she-doesn’t-even-know-I-exist problem.

“Nobody’s out of my league,” Sanemi mutters, glare darkening with his trademark scowl, “She’s just shiny, is all. I’m easily distracted.”

“And that’s why you ignore me whenever she happens to be at the same dining hall as us,” Obanai snorts.

“Fuck-” Sanemi’s fork scrapes across his plate.

Raising an eyebrow, Obanai continues, “And also why you terrified those women away from their table.”

“-off,” fork stabbing loudly at his dry chicken.

“That just happened to be across from where she was sitting.”

“I said-” tearing sloppily into the overcooked meat.

Mask stretching as Obanai grins, he makes his final push, “And forgot to eat your food after she made eye contact with you.”

Mouth full, words muffled, “-f’ck ‘ff!”

“If nobody’s out of your league, then why don’t you say,”—in a breathy, squeaky voice—“Hi, I’m Sanemi!”

Swallowing his bite in a single motion, “I don’t talk like that,” Sanemi glowers, “Besides, shiny things lose their sparkle the moment you touch them.”

“Whatever man,” Obanai scoffs, “Shiny things also tend to hate crude assholes.”

“I’ll crude your fucking asshole.”

Eyes rolling, Obanai switches gears, “So Mitsuri and I-”

Only to be promptly interrupted, fork waved aggressively in his direction, “Don’t fucking start on your goddamn perfect love life.”

“Perfect?” Obanai huffs, whining now, “Dude, you know how long it took for-”

“If this is supposed to be a roundabout pep talk or offering of love advice,” Sanemi stands, half finished plate in one hand, steel grip around his glass with the other as he tilts his head back to chug the remainder of his lemonade, “Just fucking don’t.”

Waiting in lines isn’t your strong suit, fingernails rapidly tapping your lukewarm plate, droplets of water glistening under the too familiar lighting of the dining hall. You’d already scratched off the faint remains of someone else’s lunch, not bothering to search for a new, cleaner plate — they all had some sort of residue. Lifting your gaze to survey the people ahead of you, you’re immediately hindered by the tall, broad stature of a white haired man, the tension in his back muscles emphasized by the tightness of his moss green shirt. Sighing quietly, you notice his neck twitch, the curve of his biceps discernible as his arms—presumably—cross in front of him.

“Hey,” you say, chatter, clang, and hiss of lunchtime swallowing your attempt to get his attention, “Hellooo.”

Somehow, his biceps flex harder, fabric of his shirt’s armholes stretching to accommodate his strength.

“Um, alright,” you mutter, refocusing on your plate, fingernails returning to their tapping, “Never mind, I guess-”

“If you want, you can cut me.”

You blink, vision flashing to the Beautiful purple eyed man turning around to face you.

“Are they real?” you gush, cheeks warming, eyes squeezing shut before you can process any shame.

“Pardon?” a teasing, incredulous lilt lingers in his voice, “I can see, if that’s what you’re-”

“No, like, are they contacts?”

If it wouldn’t hammer the final nail on your coffin of embarrassment, you’d slap yourself right then and there.

“Open your eyes,” he speaks softer now, “I’m not wearing contacts.”

Eyes opening sheepishly, you stick out your free hand, “Nice to meet you, I apologize, you probably get the eyes thing a lot,” they’re too pretty for you to not.

“I’m Sanemi,” he responds evenly, your hand untouched as his jaw clenches, “Are you going to cut me or not?”

“Or not,” you reply quickly, nose scrunching as you glance away, hand dropping limply, “I can wait.”

“Your incessant tapping suggests otherwise,” he—Sanemi—grunts, “If you’re not gonna cut me, then at least be less annoying to everyone else in line.”

You snort, “Are you usually this combative?” pointedly ignoring his jab.

“Usually, I don’t offer up my spot in line.”

“So does that mean I’m special,” you grin now, eyes glittering at the way his brow furrows, “Or just extra annoying?”

“Extra annoying,” he deadpans, “Definitely extra.”

With a friendly pout, you lapse into silence, shuffling forward an insignificant amount, inwardly cursing whoever poorly planned the university budget to short staff the dining halls.

“Y’know, you look familiar.”

Sanemi shrugs, back turned once more to you, shoulder blades rippling with the motion, “Makes sense.”

“What, am I not original enough for you?” you grumble, cheeks warming again as he whips around to glare at you.

“Why are you talking to me?”

“I don’t know!” you exclaim, “To be nice? To be annoying? Because I’m bored and hangry and this line seems to go on for forever?!”

Lips twitching, he slowly gestures in front of him, still glaring, “Cut me.”

“No!”

“You’re ridiculous.”

Before you can protest, he maneuvers himself behind you, impatience radiating from his body, lean muscles barely grazing your bare arms, goosebumps raising when he crosses his own, the view so much more defined from your new perspective. You’re too busy memorizing his physique to notice his reaction to your careful attention; too busy uttering his name under your breath, committing it to heart, to see the blush creep up his collarbones, his neck, his earlobes; too busy finally getting food to catch him opening, closing, then opening his mouth, a hushed And what’s your name? caught beneath hesitation and loneliness.

“Thanks Sanemi,” you say, waving cheerfully, “Maybe I’ll see you around?”

His response falters in his throat as he watches you leave, gaze swiveling to eventually—reluctantly—make eye contact with Obanai. Good effort! Obanai gives him a thumbs up, just as Sanemi groans lowly, flipping him off.

“Sanemi,” you whisper, fingertips walking warmly across his scars, smooth and sensitive to the touch, his breath catching at the light pressure, “Promise me you were sober.”

Body vibrating with quiet laughter, he catches your hand, lips gentle and wet as he kisses each of your fingertips, “I don’t drink,” eyes flitting over to your haphazardly tossed clothing, “And you?”

“I had one,” you murmur, lifting yourself to roll atop him, straddling his waist, thighs sweaty and soft, heat stirring in his groin at the familiar position, “Way before you arrived.”

“Waited for me, hm?” he chuckles smugly, gripping your hips, kneading into your skin, a strangled hiss tightening his lungs as his cum leaks from your slippery folds to his stomach, “Didn’t think I’d see you at a party like this.”

“And I didn’t think you threw parties,” you quip back, reveling in the filthy squelch of your languid grinding, his rigid abdominals flexing shiny and divine against the bump of your clit, “Till your roommate introduced himself, invited me over,” draping yourself over his chest, tits heavy and warm on his sternum, voice promising and heady in his ear, “I didn’t think I’d be getting fucked tonight.”

“Me neither,” Sanemi rasps, cockhead swollen and smearing precum against the plush of your ass, erect again, “Didn’t think you’d show up on my doorstep,” grasping your jaw to present your neck to his bared teeth, nipping greedily, “Looking so fucking gorgeous, like you were begging for someone to devour you,” tongue swiping flat and messy at the hollow of your throat, his hips bucking upward for friction, “Good thing I found you first, hm? Good thing I got to your pretty mouth, to your beautiful cunt, before some other fuck.”

“Sanemi,” you whimper, tugging your head down slightly, just slightly enough to see the dangerous, hazy glint in his purple stare, “W-wasn’t here to f-fuck anyone.”

“But you did, didn’t you?” he teases lightly, releasing your jaw with a final, tender kiss to your chin, “Had me wrapped around your finger the moment I saw you, laughing with your friends in the dining hall, that incredible smile of yours knotting my stomach,” swallowing thickly, dangerous edge fading as quickly as it surfaced, feather soft confession taking its place, “I must’ve become absolutely insufferable,” snorting amusedly, “If Obanai intervened.”

“I forgot to tell you my name,” you admit sheepishly, beginning your own parade of sloppy, heated kisses across the sheen of his collarbones, exertion from his first orgasm still evident, “Thought I missed my shot,” reaching behind you for his cock, deft thumb circling his tip, grinning at his unabashed moan, “Wondered how I could possibly recover from such an encounter with your mesmerizing hair and brilliant eyes,” winking playfully as you squeeze his cock, earning a halfhearted scowl, “Your gentlemanly gesture of saving me from my hanger.”

“Want to feel you again,” is your only warning, and then he’s bullying his cock between your folds, whining sharply as his tip nudges in, rhythm shallow and wanton, gradually stuffing himself further and further into your honeyed, dripping hole, “Fuck,” he grits out, your ass so perfect and weighted atop him, “You feel so fucking good.”

“Is this all you want?” you ask quietly, question nearly lost in the broadness of his chest, pussy clenching tight and overwhelmed around him.

“This?” he manages to scoff, his exasperated, adoring eyes meeting your unsteady, wide gaze, “‘Course not, I want to get to know you, your favorite color, how you look in the morning, what buttons I can push, when to say I’m sorry,” repetitive, gentle grunts underlying his reassurance as he continues thrusting torturously slow, “I’ve got a devastating crush on you, you idiot, so why the fuck would this be all I want?”

“Well you did just call me an idiot,” you giggle, back arching into his movements, his eyes glimmering at the display of your breasts.

He huffs, “Learn it or hate it, but s’my love language.”

“I’m thoroughly enjoying this love language,” you drawl, grabbing onto his shoulders, sweat trickling shiny and subtle as you readjust yourself, “I guess I could adapt to ~odd pet names too.”

As Sanemi’s pace hastens, second climax coaxed harsh and unrelenting from your body, he slips one hand from your hip to your sex, palm pressing strong and intense on your clit, the most stunning wail tearing feral and needy across his bedroom as you cum on his cock, thighs squeezing the air from his lungs, fingernails digging deeply into his shoulders, neck faintly mottled with the aftermath of his love biting.

Sunlight glows weakly through his blinds, the quiet pulse of your breaths preventing Sanemi from wiggling even an inch, too afraid of shattering the stillness of his dream. Your leg’s slotted comfortable and trusting between his own, fingers pressing soft dots into his chest, a sensation he wishes he could bottle for a rainy day. Thankful for his lack of drinking, and thus, lack of a hangover, his eyes blink closed, basking in the recollection of your unexpected passion, the shine of moonlight on your naked figure, the curve of your smile, hot and welcoming against his mouth.

“So how do I look in the morning?”

Your sleepily murmured question startles him, the uptick in your breathing having gone unnoticed, too deep in his reminiscence. Head tilting to better see you, he smirks fondly, gaze more serene without the exhaustion of the day settled in yet.

“Like you just woke up,” he says nonchalantly, nevertheless breaking into an endeared smile, muscular arm tugging you closer to him, so close you can see the flecks of muted silver in his irises.

“Hm, thank gosh it’s Saturday,” you yawn, limbs stretching in his embrace, toes finding purchase on his ankles, “I definitely did not set an alarm.”

“What dumbass would throw a party on a weekday?”

“Not you,” you retort sweetly, dramatically batting your eyelashes, “You’re not a dumbass.”

“Fuck you,” he mumbles.

“Already?” you wink lazily, “Don’t men have a refractory period or something?”

“I only came once last night,” he nearly pouts, hiding his expression in your sunwarmed hair.

“Right,” you chuckle, tender memories of being carefully wiped clean, and then snuggling into him, promptly passing out, floating contentedly through your vision, “You’re amazing.”

“Amazing enough to do this again?” his voice hardens, somehow moving further from you even as his body doesn’t move.

“Didn’t I already ask you that?” you reply gently.

“Yeah.”

Nose crinkling, you poke at his cheek, humming confidently, “I may not have had a devastating crush on you, but I obviously I like you, idiot.”

“Yeeeah,” he sighs.

“So we’re doing this again,” you remark plainly.

“Good,” he finally grins.

“Good,” you grin.

“Ugh,” he scowls, pretending to push you away, only to quickly pull you back into his embrace, pulse thrumming at the momentary distance.

“You weren’t saying that earlier,” you singsong, lightly tucking a longer strand of his hair behind his ear, cooing at its immediate redness, “You think Obanai heard us?”

“Fuck,” Sanemi grimaces, suddenly dreading his next conversation with his best friend.

“Poor guy,” you laugh, tone laced with mock sympathy, “Probably regrets inviting me.”

Shrugging, Sanemi pecks your forehead, voice gravelly as he mutters, “Nah, fuck him.”

#sanemi shinazugawa #shinazugawa sanemi #sanemi x reader #shinazugawa x reader #wind hashira #one shot #college au #demon slayer smut #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer

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negrowhat · 4 months

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what are your top ten fav bl's of all time?

Hey Anon! I had to take some time to think about this. It's hard for me to choose things like this! You're really putting me on the spot lol. Here we go tho...I might cheat a little.

To My Star. Both 1 and 2. I love Seo Joon's and Ji Woo's story. I love their relationship dynamic. I loved how protective they were of each other. Both Ji Woo and Seo Joon are complex characters with layers that you can really bite into and analyze many ways. I know a lot of people were not fans of s2 but that was one series where I truly ate up the angst. Ji Woo is a hard character to understand unless you really take the time to watch the series and focus on his behaviors. You'll never, ever catch me talking bad about TMS.

Gameboys the Series. Both the seasons and the movie. CaiReel have such a modern and relatable love story. I think it being a series about finding relationships in the middle of a global pandemic while we were ALL sharing the same plight really stood out. I felt like I made new friends while watching that series. Also for s1 to be shot completely on an iPhone and for most of the actors to not actually be filming their scenes at the same time, I was BLOWN away by the quality AND chemistry. That series made me SOB and that is also something I consider impressive. If it can make me cry then it's certified gold.

Utsukushii Kare. Both seasons and the movie. This is another series with complex main characters. Hira deals with his general uninterest in damn near everything EXCEPT Kiyoi and photography. And Kiyoi deals with his need for attention even if he generally doesn't like people because they always disappoint him. It's interesting to see how they handle their seemingly unbalanced relationship. Hira is willing to give Kiyoi all the love he requires and not get close (which is normally what Kiyoi wants) and Kiyoi learns that with Hira he wants a real true love and relationship and that's quite a task when the man you love doesn't value himself. It's just interesting seeing the growth between them.

Color Rush S1. I love the way they tackle the soulmates trope, and explore the darker side to the obsession that could happen once you find your perfect match ESPECIALLY when that match can help you see a full picture. Yeon Woo struggles with a myriad of thoughts and fears as he does his best not to get close to Yoo Han even though Yoo Han is serving up himself on a silver platter with tantalizing promises of helping him learn the colors he craves to see. Yeon Woo becomes obsessed, but little does he know that Yoo Han is also obsessed because Yeon Woo also helps Yoo Han see a clearer picture. But maybe that obsession is really just them falling in love and not knowing what to call it.

Moonlight Chicken. Messy and relatable to a person like me who is smack dab in the middle of the age groups involved. This series really showcases how messy romances can be. It shows how hard it can be to close the door to a chapter you thought would end happily. This series shows how hard it can be to move on when a normally open door shuts in your face suddenly and forever. It shows how a chapter that starts off terrible can lead you into the most thrilling moment of your life. It shows that the last chapter you finished might have you TERRIFIED to move on to the next one. Stuck. This was a series I found difficult to dislike any of the characters even if they were being terrible. Emotions were high and reactions were warranted. This was a series where I felt like people were allowed to feel the way they were feeling.

We Best Love. Yes, both seasons. Shu Yi and Shi De had such an up and down ship. Shi De went through such a roundabout way to get close to Shu Yi and I really enjoyed watching them become friends. I enjoyed watching Shu Yi come to realize he was in love. I wanted to beat Shi De up in s2 for ghosting Shu Yi and I was enjoying watching Shu Yi get his lick back, but really he was just looking for answers so he can decide if he was stupid for wanting to forgive Shi De the moment he saw him again. It's another fun and messy series.

Lovely Writer. I LOVE Gene ok. He really made me love the series because he was such a bomb ass character. I also found Nubsib's psycho/stalkerish tendencies quite entertaining because he was so polite about it. I love that the series took stabs at all the things wrong with the BL community while simultaneously having the main character be an actor in one of the most toxic fake BLs I've ever seen. Just meta on top of meta. Satire in the form of a trendy BL within a BL.

History 3: MODC. Salt run aside, I just really loved this series. Can't believe a series about the shy kid falling in love with his bully is a fave. That sentence alone would make it problematic af...not to mention the questionable age gap between the 2nd couple. But it was beautifully constructed. Hao Ting found the best version of himself in Xi Gu and Xi Gu found a brighter side to life with Hao Ting. And they were WAYYYYY into each other and Hao Ting did put in his work to be forgiven. I do my best not to overthink Zhi Gang's age difference from Sun Bo because it's such a norm in Taiwanese BL. It's kind of interesting to see their relationship play out. Zhi Gang definitely has his hangups with the age gap and Sun Bo just doesn't care.

Blueming. Such a laid back series. Si Won is just a sweetheart dealing with self-esteem issues trying to make his presence known in life so he can get the best out of his university experience. And Da Un is just that effortlessly cool guy Si Won strives to be like. He can't even fathom the idea of such a cool guy having a crush on him that he takes the flirting as arrogance lmao. I think it's sweet that Da Un helps uplift Si Won and I think it's sweet that Si On showed Da Un the attention he never got at home.

Ingredients the Series. Just a sweet lil slice of life miniseries. It fills me with joy to watch Tops and Win pine after each other as Win works on his music and Tops works on his cooking and they live together symbiotically. There's not too much to this series. It relies heavily on food and chemistry and that's perfectly perfect for me.

#to my star #to my star 2 #blueming #gameboys #gameboys the series #gameboys the movie #we best love #we best love: no 1 for you #we best love: fighting mr. 2nd #utsukushii kare #utsukushii kare: eternal #ingredients the series #lovely writer #lovely writer the series #history 3: modc #history 3: make our days count #moonlight chicken #color rush

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dark-side-blog3 · 2 months

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I feel like if you want to escape the house of lamentation, you have to be REAL careful what method you use.

If you make Leviathan or Asmodeus bored of you— not hate! Just bored, and make them realize they would get more of a reaction from someone else, spending time to show them some prime examples of partners while also showing that when you do try you just can’t compete, and they’re ultimately putting too much effort into a relationship that even if you agree to, you just aren’t going to give them enough… If you bore them, you’ll walk away scot free.

However, boring them won’t work with everyone. Some of them you have to make hate you. Lucifer for example would be able to find contentment in a less than glamorous life with you. So, you need to do your best to just be horrible for his image. Every intimate act is public and you gush over him, lowering your self worth and by extension: his. He can’t be associated with someone who embarrasses him so often when he tries to be nice, in his roundabout way. And you shouldn’t be telling everyone his business!

Mammon is a bit trickier, because he’s got such a tolerance for being bullied, and for cringe, so you can’t embarrass him. But you can nag him on his faults constantly, throw away parts of his hoard with the reasoning that it’s “unsanitary” and trying to “tidy up” his room. Always rat him out to debt collectors, demand he throw away the biohazard’s in his room, discreetly deep clean his car and throw out any trash you find. Don’t be cruel to him, it’ll only make him cling harder despite being unhappy. But make it known that if you are in his space, his things aren’t safe. And he’ll slowly pull away, years at a time. Try to remain friends, knowing full well you won’t be. He’ll find it too weird, given his previous obsession and possessive tendencies to you.

And again: you have to be really, really careful what method you choose. Because if you over or under do it, any of them may just become worse.

For example, it’s best to make Beel feel like you can protect yourself for the most part, and he only needs to step in occasionally. Don’t feed into his delusions, but don’t deny them outright. Let him feel like the best way to help you is to be distant. Because if Beelzebub feels disillusioned with you, you’re not going to have a more obsessed demon.

Beel, if throughly annoyed and no longer enamoured with you, will stop seeing you as this whimsical and cunning human, and will begin to just see you as human. You’re about as special as any other human, about as in need of protection. But that doesn’t change your species. Did those other humans have interests, hobbies, ideology, friends, family, a vision for their life? Maybe. But that never stopped him before.

You were kept alive, like one might keep a pet pig or chicken. And though you can put a ribbon on it, it is what it is in the end. And since you’ve outlived your purpose as anything else: Beelzebub is going to eat you.

#yandere obey me nightbringer #yandere obey me #yandere obey me shall we date #yandere lucifer morningstar #yandere lucifer #yandere mammon #yandere levi #yandere leviathan #yandere asmo #yandere asmodeus #yandere beel #yandere beelzebub #my writing!#reader death #death tw #cannibalism tw #yandere x reader #yandere obey me x reader

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raineandsky · 2 months

Text

Ouroboros

#78.2 (part 1) (part 2)

“Chicken noodle soup?”

The henchman brandishes a bowl at the hero like a weapon of healing. The hero begrudgingly takes it, and the henchman gives them his classic lopsided smile in victory.

It’s been two weeks since the hero woke up in this cosy little room. Two weeks since they tried to stop the villain unleashing chaos on the city. Two weeks since they disappeared off the agency’s radar.

The henchman settles in the chair next to the bed as the hero gets comfortable, the bowl balanced carefully in their hands. It’s delightfully warm against their skin, the smell absolutely divine; they’re two seconds away from either falling asleep or devouring the entire thing.

“Any news about the agency?”

The henchman clicks his tongue. The hero’s been finding more and more roundabout ways to ask the same question, but the henchman knows what they mean by now.

“They have another hero out dealing with [Villain].” He averts his gaze to the window awkwardly. “They still haven’t acknowledged that you’re gone.”

The agency’s a self-absorbed little corporation. The hero knows that. Still—a search party would be nice. A memorial, even. Something to say that they noticed the hero disappeared.

“They’re probably busy filling the gap I left,” the hero says with forced disinterest, and dips into their soup to keep their mouth from saying too much.

They crave for someone to notice—a colleague, their higher-ups, anyone, anything to prove they cared even a little bit. They’ve already told the henchman that the agency looks out for them. It’ll be awkward if it turns out they lied about that.

The two of them sit in silence for a while, the henchman reading a book as the hero inhales the soup. It’s amazing, as always, and fills a gaping hole that they wish could be filled by more legitimate means.

The henchman looks up when the bowl rattles against the bedside table. His book gets flopped page-down on the table next to him in an instant. “Let’s get those bandages changed again,” he says simply, and the hero groans.

They don’t see the point. They feel fine, but the henchman won’t even let them look anymore. The last time they’d seen the gash it’d looked much better, but the henchman insists that they must’ve done something to tear it again. What, they’ve no clue—all they do all day is roll around in bed. How they’d tear a wound open enough to need another week of healing and close inspection is beyond them.

The henchman shuffles closer armed with a roll of bandages. The hero rolls their eyes and lifts their shirt in defeat.

The henchman’s touch is as soft as ever, of course, and the hero watches him for lack of anything better to look at.

His brow furrows in concentration, his hands steady, his tongue caught between his teeth. His hair is still wet from what the hero assumes is a shower. His usual black clothes—that the hero has come to guess are a uniform for the villain—are abandoned in favour of a baggy t-shirt and a pair of well-loved joggers.

They don’t flinch under his fingers anymore. He’s pleasantly warm against their skin, forever gentle despite the hero’s repeated “I’m fine!” When he’s done he leans back and graces the hero with the slightest of smiles.

“It’s still looking a little rough,” he says like he read the hero’s mind. “We’ll give it a couple more days to make sure it’s definitely good before you head out.”

“You say that every day,” the hero points out. They can’t keep their tone from being exasperated.

They love it here, sure—the cooking, the comfy bed, the being doted on—but they want to kick the agency’s ass for apparently forgetting about them.

“A couple more days,” the henchman repeats, and with a sigh he grabs the old bundle of (bloodless?) bandages and leaves the hero to themself.

A couple more days. The hero’s getting restless stuck in this tiny room. They need to sink their claws into the agency, show them what they’re missing.

They can always come back once they’re done.

#creative writing #writblr #writers on tumblr #writing #writing community #heroes and villains #hero x villain #shoutout to the anon who asked for this like 1000 years ago lmao #idk if you follow me so idk if youll see it but ta da!! enjoy!!

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dmercer91 · 11 months

Text

ebug's sister, dm91

taglist, @whenmypartysover

part one / part two / part three / part four / part five / part six / part seven / part eight / part nine / part ten / part eleven / part twelve /

blakefriarr_

liked by _quinnhughes, nicohischier and 7,665 others

blakefriarr_: 'you should wear sunscreen, daws' 'no i'll be fine'

'fine' being not wearing a shirt because it physically hurts him. the man is the human embodiment of @/njdevil00

view 736 comments..

dawson1417: ok it's not THAT bad

→ blakefriarr_: ok so let me hug you

→ dawson1417: uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

→ daswson1417: you have cooties

nicohischier: i cannot escape even in the offseason

nicohischier: where did you GET that, blakey

→ blakefriarr_: If nico hischier has a million menaces, then I am one of them. If nico hischier has ten menaces, then I am one of them. If nico hischier has only one menace then that is me. If nico hischier has no menaces, then that means I am no longer on earth. If the world is against being menacing to nico hischier, then I am against the world.

→ nicohischier: i hate you

→ blakefriarr_: you asked me to text you when we landed like an anxiety ridden mother letting her newly licensed child drive the kia sportage to subway

jackhughes: second picture was a jumpscare

→ blakefriarr_: are you sure it's not still just loading and you're looking at a black screen

adamfantilli: we haven't facetimed in sixteen hours im having withdrawals

→ blakefriarr_: @/trevorzegras

→ trevorzegras: you rang

→ blakefriarr_: when the ducks sign my rookie you better murder everyone who breathes around him

→ trevorzegras: the draft hasn't happened yet

→ blakefriarr_: WHEN THE DUCKS SIGN MY ROOKIE, ZEGRAS.

→ trevorzegras: i will do murder

→ blakefriarr_: horray

→ blakefriarr_: love you, rookie

→ adamfantilli: love you, coach

lhughes_06: getting sunburnt sounds like a skill issue

→ drayanewman: 🤨 ok larry the lobster

→ blakefriarr_: currently wondering how larry and nj devil managed to pull us

→ dawson1417: larry and nj are the only ones equipped to deal with the egregious attitudes

_quinnhughes: just so you're aware a pit stop at the lake house before you go to canada is mandatory

→ blakefriarr_: don't tell me what to do

→ _quinnhughes: so when's the flight

→ blakefriarr_: sunday.

edwards.73: do you prefer 50 or 30 spf

→ blakefriarr_: don't. you're on probation.

→ edwards.73: I WAS ONLY AN HOUR LATE

→ blakefriarr_: I THOUGHT YOU WERE DEAD

jj.friar31: living alone is not nearly as great as i thought it would be

→ blakefriarr_: you know we share a doordash account, right?

→ jj.friar31: i can't cook, b, what do you want from me

→ blakefriarr_: SIX CHICKEN SANDWIHCHES IN A DAY??

→ jj.friar31: i'm bulking

→ blakefriarr_: you are the largest red flag i've ever met i have failed as a sister

→ jj.friar31: my original comment was meant to be a roundabout way to say i missed you but i take it back suck a dick

→ blakefriarr_: i'm on vacation what do you think i've been spending my time doing? bible study?

→ jj.friar31: you should be stripped of your basic human rights

seasmuscasey26: sixty four

→ blakefriarr_: hmmmmm i think maybe eighty eight or twelve

→ seamuscasey26: eighty eight and six hundred three 😏

→ blakefriarr_: you get me shea

→ luca.fantilli: what... is this? even?

→ seamuscasey26: @/blakefriarr_ three eighty five 💀💀

→ blakefriarr_: stop 💀

ryangraves27: merc appears to be very happy

→ blakefriarr_: i tend to have that affect on him

→ ryangraves27: ok 👍

dougieham: wear protection

→ blakefriarr_: that's what i said

→ dougieham: hm. all the protection?

→ blakefriarr_: i eat protection

→ dougieham: i don't think that's what the flavoured ones are meant for

→ blakefriarr_: fr? cause i've been eating a strawberry condom at 10pm every night for months

→ dougieham: eat them for breakfast like a grownup at least

jesperbratt: yeah

→ blakefriarr_: yeah

markestapa: nobody needs to see all of the pda

→ blakefriarr_: wrong. you need to see it, i read so on facebook

→ markestapa: well shit i can't argue with facebook

→ blakefriarr_: wrong again. you can't argue with me. i've been wrong once and i always learn from my mistakes

view more comments..

#ebug’s sister series !#dawson mercer #dawson mercer x reader #hockey imagine #nhl imagine #new jersey devils

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justanaspiringsomeone · 7 months

Text

About Eridia

Or more specifically, the Senobium….

Does anyone else get the feeling either Eridia itself or at the least, the Senobium will implode/explode/etc. ?

Like think about it, who knows how long the Senobium has been around, gathering knowledge, experiments, collecting, etc.

At some point, that’ll all blow up in everyone’s face and MC is somehow the catalyst for it. And everyone will be running like a headless chicken doing damage control or fending for themself

Like Mhin could help you break in but there’d be something you take (as the hound) or something.

Be it Kuras in his weird deal with the Senobium and you helping (as the alchemist) or Ais in a roundabout way to protect his turf.

Hell, even Ocudeus just breaking through Eridia to consume the world would be a spectacle. (As the unnamed)

#ts theories #touchstarved theory #touchstarved mc #touchstarved ais #touchstarved Kuras #touchstarved #touchstarved game #touchstarved vn #touchstarved visual novel

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simplyavatrice · 1 year

Note

So... How did Camila and Lilith meet in Golden Hour?

They've known each other for a while - it's a small town

One night though, Camila was on her way out from Bea's when she saw a few chickens on the road and stopped to guide them back to Lilith's place because she knew that's who they belonged to

She gets them back and finds Lilith out already, looking for them. Lilith thanks her, asks her if she would like a few cookies Lilith made as a thank you

Camila accepts, she loves sweets and they go into Lilith's place and she tries the cookies - they're terrible, just...flat and hard and lifeless

So she shows Lilith how to make cookies that night at like 1am and they end up having a really great time and just as Camila is about to leave Lilith says she doesn't know how to make very good chicken piccata

It's her roundabout way of asking Camila to come back that weekend and have dinner with her, which thankfully Camila picks up on, and so they go

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whatsfourteenupto · 4 months

Text

Through a roundabout series of events involving at least two neighbors and three trips to a farm stand, Fourteen acquires six chickens. They have free range of the yard, but don’t worry, they’ve given them force fields. It’s a little odd, but no one really feels the need to question the nice skinny man at the end of the lane who always has a smile and fresh eggs

#what’s fourteen up to #fourteenth doctor #doctor who #listen fourteen is a pillar of their community everyone loves them #donna just likes that the doctor has a project #and that she never has to buy eggs again

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heaven-s-black-box · 4 months

Text

Like the Saying Goes...- Double Life Ensemble

Return to File

Recovery date: December 19th, 2023

Description: The participants are left to ponder double life as they return to their regular lives.

Notes: N/a

Word count: 677

Back to directory

Tilly death do us part.

Pearl grinned as she tied up another bin chicken in her store. She was convinced Ren was stealing them for eggs, though she didn’t know why. Maybe it was some friendly competition from Gem or Impulse, her neighbors in both business and housing, and she’d find them hanging around her base later

Tilly, he’d made a pun. At the time, she’d been too caught up in panic to catch it but she’d had plenty of time to rethink. Laying in bed at night, restocking, gathering materials, building, Scott’s goodbye wouldn’t leave her head.

Death did them no part.

History does not take kindly to lovers.

Jimmy sits in his explosives shop, hat tilted over his eyes and leaning back in the crates of tnt. It’s much hotter here, and brighter. The terracotta reflects the sun back into his eyes and the heat sticks to the ground, maybe a trip to a more temperate climate was in order.

He’s got a box in his lap, closed and locked. Grian had given him an incredulous look when he’d asked for a clipping of his red string, he’s sentimental like that. It’s tied around a poppy and a spyglass, tucked against the side of the box filled with trinkets and pictures.

They weren’t really lovers, he smiles, but they were close enough for the universe.

It takes two to tango.

Impulse swings his pickaxe down into the stone, breaking out more room for his base. It’s not quiet, he can hear the river outfront and his neighbors arguing. His mind drifted back to being poolside with Bdubs and planning how to break up the other couples.

They’d pulled them apart, planted seeds of doubt, and it would’ve worked if they hadn't underestimated the trust of the other duos. They’d tripped up Scar and gotten cocky, they’d been the ones who tripped over Cleo and Etho.

It takes two to tango, and theirs was the smoothest.

Red at night, sailor’s delight. Red in the morning, sailor’s warning.

Etho is watching the sun rise over the server when Joe makes the comment as everyone enters the tcg arena. Beef wonders if they should move inside incase it rains, Etho finds himself admiring the way the sun sets the world aflame.

He’d done that once, side by side with Joel. The world never stood a chance as they took vengeance for the relation-ship. It was almost ironic how they’d found their end in burning lava. As it starts to rain, he chuckles to himself.

They’d delighted in the red flames burning down the server, but there’d been no rain to save them.

Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer.

Cleo’s balance wavers as they build up their city, and they panic. They throw their weight backwards, falling against the wall and feeling the wind rush out of their rotten lungs. There’s a sharp pain as they collide with the stone, and suddenly they’re back on the diving board.

Martyn had caused them so much pain, and in turn they’d taken so much from him. He’d been their greatest weakness, and they’d let him roam free. They’d angered the witch because he left them.

They made the mistake of letting their enemy walk away, when they really should have kept him close.

History repeats itself.

Scar is paving out more of Scarland’s road when his tower Warden lets out a roar, making him jump. It rings out through his head, merging with that endless echo, and he has to take a second to re-compose himself. Grian comes up to him as he sits on the edge of the flower bed in the roundabout and takes a seat.

Jelly wanders across the road, and suddenly they’re back in the panda sanctuary. They’re bound together once more by Scar’s recklessness. Scar is following his every whim and fancy as Grian desperately tries to keep them alive. In the end, they always find their way back to each other.

They will always find each other, and it will always be their undoing.

#researcher s's recovery #mcyt #life series #traffic series #pearlescentmoon #smajor1995 #scott smajor #solidaritygaming #jimmy solidarity #tangotek #ethoslab #smallishbeans #martyn inthelittlewood #zombiecleo #goodtimeswithscar #grian #oneshot #life series oneshot #rating unavailable

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gaslightgatekeepgirlbosscombat · 5 months

Text

Group C, Round 3, Poll 1:

Propaganda under the cut

Chelle

she has an information network of spies called "kittens" so she is always informed on all matters. since the dragon she's partnered with is a giant fluffy cat, it's entirely ambiguous whether or not they are literal cats or not. she's no stranger to manipulating both strangers and family alike to make a situation more favorable for her and to keep herself out of debt to others. also she runs a near exclusive weapon trade on guns. like she is one of the only people in the world who is able to make guns. also she does the OOOOOHOHOHOHO laugh when she starts firing her minigun

"- princess and 3rd eldest scion (out of 8 children) of her kingdom, she also oversees her own realm called chanzelia that was a bum fuck backwater but she singlehandedly turned it into one of the most prosperous and technologically advanced cities in the kingdom - has a bunch of ""kittens"" (spies) that serve as her network to know any and all information. her kittens never get caught - her personality -- she's very cunning and charismatic and secretly manipulates people/situations to her own advantage -- but never out of malice really. she cares about the others around her genuinely but does so in a very roundabout and clever way. - she's a lead innovator in reviving ancient technology (which was more technologically advanced than the present) like guns. she has her own gatling gun that is pink and awesome and she used it to bail the party out of jail and it was epic she was shooting pink lasers all over the place - owns and created a giant landship called the ""gran fiore"" that can also serve as a submarine and can survive magic conditions like Divine Dark Fog That No Mortal Should Be Able To Enter"

What COULDN'T I say about Chelle? She is a princess that rules country thats situated on top of a moving landship, which is entirely because she specializes in blackmailing others to get what she wants. She has a network of spies she calls her "kittens" - because her partner, Cait Sith, is a cat-dragon - that have dug up so much information on people that she uses against them that they're known world wide. Her introduction to the story consisted of her saying she would help her brother, the protagonist, in fighting a war, and then she turned around and claimed that it was all a lie, leading them deep onto old ruins to kill them with magical robots. THEN when he WON, she turned around AGAIN and said it was all a very elaborate ruse. She does this like two entirely separate times. She is the sole dealer of Fantasy Magic Guns on the entire continent. Her main weapon is a machine gun with neon pink bullets. She's even bisexual.

She’s literally the princess of a small kingdom where she has “kittens” aka servants spread all over to gather information like a girlboss like who needs privacy

Dahlia Hawthorne

she lived. faked her own kidnapping and killed multiple people in unrelated situations. was executed. got her spirit channelled. tried to kill even more people as revenge

Girlypop has done a shit ton of manipulation, committed at least four murders (even one from the grave!) A man’s eaten glass for her, another’s knowingly drank poison. She also puts on the “Weak little girl” act to get away with it all

she is literally THE gaslight gatekeep girlbosser ever. don't wanna spoil anything but like. she is the definition of the words,

At 14, Dahlia arranged a staged kidnapping (in order to attain a Very High ransom from her wealthy father) with a guy she'd seduced, her stepsister Valerie, and her twin sister Iris (who chickened out) that purposefully landed the guy in jail for her supposed murder. Five years later, the guy broke out of jail and Dahlia framed him for the murder of Valerie (which she committed) and when this truth was exposed in court, the guy killed himself rather than break the promise they'd made to believe in each other no matter what. A few months later, she poisoned one of the attorneys involved in that case (putting him into a years-long coma instead of killing him) and got away with it by planting the evidence on a guy she just met by convincing him she'd fallen in love with him at first sight. She then guilted Iris into pretending to be her while dating the guy for the next several months, which culminated in her attempting to murder him, only to then try to frame him for the murder of one of her exes instead (which she also committed). She didn't get away with this one because superior girlboss (her cousin Mia) exposed her plot and Dahlia was executed for it a few years later, but she continued to GGG from beyond the grave. While she was still alive, Dahlia and her also-incarcerated but not on death row mother planned to murder the head of their clan (Maya, the younger sister of Mia) so that Dahlia's younger half sister (Pearl) could take Maya's place as head of their clan; Dahlia was also doing this because in the interim, Mia had been murdered by someone else, and Dahlia decided the best way to get revenge on her after her death was to kill the person she loved most. The mother and daughter schemed to write to Pearl (who was only about 9 at the time) and convinced her to channel Dahlia after her execution without telling her why (their family has the ability to channel the spirits of the dead, and they cannot remember what their bodies do during the time they're possessed) so that Dahlia could use her little sister's body to kill the head of the family, who Pearl loved very much. They also guilted Iris into working with them on this. The attempt failed because she girlbossed too close to the sun (a combination of her still-living ex, Maya, the channeled Mia, and the now-awake guy she'd poisoned) but she still GGG-ed all her life and even into her death (she also managed to get Mia & Maya's mom killed in the process and the coma guy (who Mia was in love with) convicted for it, but Maya lived so ultimately a failure). Throughout all this, she gives off an air of innocence and kindness and naivete, wearing white, high femme clothes, convincing the men inside and outside of the legal courts that she couldn't possibly do anything because she's just a sweet little girl. I fucking hate her <3 the vibes are both rancid and terrifying

#round 3 #group c #chelle #chelle dragalia #princess chelle #chelle dragalia lost #dragalia #dragalia lost #Dahlia Hawthorne #Ace Attorney #Ace Attorney spoilers

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headspace-hotel · 1 year

Note

I think I'm addition to the lack of curiosity about nature you write about, there's something more insidious than just lack of interest. I think a lot about like, food politics and the sourcing of things we use in everyday life, and the fact that we've entered a state of society where we have to accept the fact that most goods we acquire come at some, environmental or human cost (the two are not the same but i think they're close!) The chicken you buy came from a factory farm where it spent all of its life in agony. The shirt you buy was made of fabrics produced with toxic runoff and sewn by people exploited for their labor. The potato you eat came from a monoculture farm which renders the soil barren due to use of pesticides and artificial fertilizers. And it's not like our individual choices can affect this directly - but it still fucking sucks!! And the system works because we don't think about it. Because most of us are removed from it. And it's easier to not have that curiosity: where did my cotton/rayon/wool/polyester come from? How was the soap i use made? Who grew my broccoli and how? Who suffers and who profits? And i know this was a roundabout way, but the curiosity that makes you uncomfortable with these hard facts starts right on the local level. It starts with looking at your lawn and asking what's in the fertilizer. It starts with trying to grow food and realizing how hard it can be. It starts with looking at the goldenrod that grows in the cracks of the highway median and asking "why are you there? What are you up to?" (This path can vary depending on your lifestyle but that's how it went for me) And no amount of "just switch to linen/buy reusable bags/get a farm share/make your own bread idk" hot tips is going to replace that essential need for asking and wondering and learning which starts by just looking at your immediate outside world and asking questions about it

Yes. I certainly agree.

In that post talking about curiosity, I am putting forward curiosity as a way to resist a systemic problem.

The alienation from nature was created by a capitalist system. This system didn't set out to alienate us from nature on purpose, but it set out to make us into consumers, and alienation from nature was the result. People who have access to the natural world are generally happier and more content (this has been studied extensively). They have access to beauty and mental stimulation, slowness, uncontrolled space without expectations, solace, peaceful chaos. Nature shows you an "Is" without "Should Be." Nature shows you to a pawpaw grove and says, here. Take and eat. It is a gift.

Our world says "Everything is owned by someone who has the right to it by virtue of having money, and this ownership of space, time, water, food, and even beauty is the most sacred rule of all. Since you own nothing, you must give yourself, pouring yourself out so you may deserve life in exchange."

But there is a deeper magic. Stand among the plants and trees and listen.

What have you done to earn or deserve this stillness? This softness, this quiet, this mercy? The nourishing food and warming fiber and sturdy shelter that is offered to you? The time here is not measured. There is no authority to command your behavior. Nothing is being asked of you. You will not be punished.

What can you offer to justify resting and partaking of pleasure?

Explore this question until all is quiet, except your own quiet reverence and your own breathing.

Do you see the answer?

#nature #plantarchy #THE ANSWER IS YOU. YOU EXIST AND THEREFORE NEED NO JUSTIFICATION #THE ANSWER IS YOUR EXISTENCE

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misspaddockverse · 1 year

Text

Snippet of my WIP x ls18

Lance Stroll x Original Female Character

Tags: slow burn through mutual pinning, he was a punk she did ballet, bad guy x good girl, angst here and there, he fell first and she fell harder, gateway car vibes

Notes: this is just a bit of what I’m been working on, still a very rough draft. Hopefully it’ll be on ao3 soon. Hope you enjoy it!!!

Please forgive any typos, English is not my first language

Lance was a terrible driver.

This was ironic, because at over 300 km/hour, wether under rain or into dark nights, he was pretty reasonable at it, overtaking equally fast cars and getting better at it each year. But on the urban streets and, on top of that, Asian desertic urban streets… he was terrible.

The cars moved painfully low, there were too many traffic lights, and he had to stop and get back going several times, despite not understanding a single word from the street signs and having to blindly rely on that cheap-ass GPS whose voice he grew a deep hate towards in the last 20 minutes.

After many missed entries, many more mistaken roundabouts, and, accidentally, almost hitting two trees and a half, he saw the Sakhir Circuit at the end of the street and let out a relieved breath.

He made a mental note to never again choose hookups on out-of-city hotels before practice Friday instead of the practical, comfortable, and heavenly placed paddock motorhomes.

When he finally made it to the circuit, Lance grinned like an idiot, happy as if he had won a race for having made it there without running over any poor civilian. He had just one more deadly obstacle to overcome: parking.

He had to put his rented Aston Martin safely in one of the stalls, in the middle of other luxury vehicles belonging to drivers and other paddock staff members. Easy-peasy lemon squeezy. He decided to do it once and for all before chickening out (and because if he thought too much about it he’d end up calling Rob for help again), so he targeted a free spot and sped right into it.

And, of course, another car would come at the exact same time, to the exact same space, and almost, almost crash into him. Damn it. He hit the brakes out of pure reflex, the other car doing the same just a second later than him, preventing them both from ruining two expensive and beautiful machines.

— What the hell… – he muttered under his breath, blinking, recovering from the shock.

He had sense, so he turned the vehicle off, opened the door, and stood up outside, sliding his sunglasses to his forehead, ready to apologize and receive the jokes about him not being able to park, when he saw who was in the other car’s direction…

— You – the young woman said in an accusatory tone, standing by the opened door of her car with a disappointed look and a fiercely accusatory posture – I should’ve guessed.

Lance had no choice but to bark out a laugh. Unbelievable.

He remembered her: angelic, royalty-like face, definitely had a boob job, British accent, a pain-in-the-ass attitude, etc. Esteban’s girlfriend’s friend or something. Why the hell was she in the staff parking stall? And with a mad-ass bright red Ferrari?

— Good morning, princess – he gestured a lazy greeting with one hand, resting his other elbow over the door – This is starting to get weird. Are you following me?

She seemed genuinely confused, a pout on her pinkish lips.

— Why would I do that?

— I don’t know – he shrugged – Maybe you’re lonely.

A scoff, followed by a humorless smile.

— My boyfriend would disagree. – she shot him a glare as if it intended to shut him off which, honestly, only made him smile wider. That insecure, uh?

— My condolences to the poor guy.

She rolled his eyes, an exasperated face. Under the sun, her golden hair shone just like a barbie in a Hollywood movie. For a second, Lance wondered if she maybe worked in Formula 1 to be there that day. Her classic demeanor maybe fit better as a celebrity guest in the Monaco GP, but Bahrain?

— You almost hit me and you’re insulting me? – she inquired, horrified, British accent thick and annoyingly posh.

— Quite the other way around, princess – he corrected, defensive – You almost hit me.

— What? I was coming slowly and you came out of nowhere at full speed! I had the blinkers on and everything.

— Really? – he deadpanned – Out of us two, who’s most likely to not drive very well?

She gasped and shutted the reaction down a second later, making Lance swallow a laugh. She got on the edge so easily.

— You know what? I’m taking this spot. Go park somewhere else!

He might have dwelled on that if she didn’t look so certain and didn’t get back in the car so quickly, leaving Lance to watch with a bemused expression.

She turned the car back on, and he could see her concentrated expression through the translucid window. Just because she was blocking the way, he waited and watched. Lance propped both forearms on his car’s door and enjoyed the live entertainment, as she went reverse and front about five times before actually placing the car in a good position to enter the parking spot. Then she stopped, opened the window, and asked him:

— Can you move your truck aside a bit? It’s blocking the passage

Jesus. Who let her with a freaking Ferrari Portofino?

— What’s the magic word? — he taunted.

Her shoulders slouched down with frustration.

— For God’s sake! Having you watching me makes me nervous.

He drew a smug grin.

— It’s a GP weekend, everyone is here to watch other people drive.

She put on a scowl as they reached a midpoint, and she was almost trying to park without him moving when another figure approached the empty stall, exasperated and hurried. Lance recognized him as Charles Leclerc's brother, the older one.

— Mate, why are you taking so long? – he called her out, naturally and empathetically, as if having her taking so long to do that was a recurrent activity – We’re all waiting to go the lounge.

— Hm… — she trailed off, suddenly at loss of words, watching as he approached the space between the two of them, noticing Lance.

— Oh, hey mate! – he offered his hand as a greeting, polite – All good?

It took Lance one second too much to react.

— Yeah – Lance greeted him, a bit confused about how familiar and automatically he was addressing… her. He didn’t even know her name. – What’s up?

— All good. See you’ve met Kennedy.

Kennedy. The name replayed in his mind as he nodded.

— Uh. Yeah.

— My sister-in-law. — he offered happily

He had to shut his mouth to prevent his chin from dropping. Sister-in… well. Now it made sense. The Ferrari, the knowing Esteban, the being in the driver's parking stall. Okay. Okay, that made sense.

— You two are having a bit of trouble here, hm? – the older Leclerc looked at her, analyzing the situation

— Kind of – she, Kennedy, looked over to Lance with mischief in her eyes – He is as terrible as I am in this.

— Well, to be fair you and Charles are true birds of a feather when it comes to parking, am I right? But come on, Maman is waiting for you.

As if it was something regular, she got out of the car letting him, her brother-in-law, handle the situation. For a handful of seconds, she stood next to Lance. Waiting. He stayed in silence, his mind running over 300 km/h.

— Not that astute when I’m not alone, aren’t you? – she murmured, with her back turned to him, delicate, pale hands crossed behind her back.

Lance wasn’t sure what pastured him the most: the posh accent in the way she said ‘astute’, the very raw and new challenging tone she displayed out of a sudden, or the way she shook the skirt of her flowered dress carefree and went to follow eldest-Leclerc to the sidewalk so unbothered. Not even giving a chance for him to reply. Suddenly she was in a hurry, then?

— Have a good race! – it was the guy who looked back to say goodbye to him.

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