#i think he was still a piece of shit but not all bad. but still a cunt. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cute-sucker · 2 days

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note: thank you @.princessbrunette for creating boxer!rafe !!

˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.

you clutched the pregnancy test, clammy hands shaking as you felt more scared than ever. rafe was still in his match, and you- you were forbidden from coming to his matches. the last time you came his opponent had made a pass at you after rafe brutally beat him.

the guy plummeted to the ground before he could utter another word, and rafe decided that enough was enough. so he sat you down, in your little cameo shorts and baby white tee. your thick lashes battered as he tried to come out the truth. the two of you were in the completely vacant locker room.

"listen, kid, i don't think you should come to my matches anymore," he said gently, as you gripped his arm. you had a sweet expression on your face before you heard what he had said - quickly wilting as you frowned at him. before you could open your mouth he had already cupped your face as softly as he could.

his hands were rough and warm on your face, you could smell the brutality on them, yet you felt yourself at ease in his embrace. you could never admit it - but rafe had some control over you that you could never explain.

"i know you're going to say it's your calling," he quipped, leaning in closer. his hot breath fanned your neck, as his mouth nipped at your cheek, "but baby i don't think this place is good for you." you felt yourself unwind and opened your mouth to blubber something.

you finally gasped out, "but i wanna see you!"

he groaned, steady hand moving down to your waist. there was an amused expression on his face, but he stayed firm.

"rafe? please."

"no."

that was it. so you got another job, and later on, rafe told you to stay at tanyhill with him. you were overjoyed that you would get to see him more and that he was being so gracious. all the girls in the ring had told you he was a playboy and nothing more than that. and you would never tell rafe but it was nice not being a ring girl. sure it was a way to get money fast, but your thighs ached from the amount of times you shined and plucked them.

but it wasn't just that. it was also the dark humid lights that dawned upon you, and trotting while people eyed you like a piece of meat. and now, you felt free, and while rafe would never understand why you chose it - you were a waitress.

the owner, delany liked you, so she didn't give you a hard time about anything. it was a cafe where time seemed to slow and it was as if nothing could go wrong. you got up early in the morning, giving rafe a goodbye kiss while he was in bed as he groaned about you leaving so early. you took life at strides. things were great.

but here it was. a sign that maybe everything was going to go to shit. be fine. your heartbeat quickened and you could barely breath - that was when you knew it was going to be bad. you could barely imagine yourself pregnant.

how old were you? 25? yeah, that was too young and quite frankly did rafe even want a baby? sure he mentioned it sometimes, when you went to baby showers and cooed a baby clothes. but would he-? it was another mouth to feed and god you didn't know if you could support that. rafe, sure, but if he left you? and it was an actual human being to love.

finally, you found yourself rushing out of the bathroom. you had to tell him now, as your heart was on fire, and your hands were stinging. quickly you gathered your stuff and headed over to delany.

"i have to go."

˚❀༉‧₊˚.

the ring was the same as usual. the same musty smell, and that feeling of everything being possible. you weren't recognised - though you did see a couple of familiar faces in the crowd. but you weren't here to chit-chat.

urgency drummed through your veins as you found rafe. 12:35. it was almost time for his first match, and you couldn't dump on him like that. no, you really could there was this feeling. this feeling that ran through you like wildfire as you stumbled to him.

he looked good, better than good, but he looked alarmed as you twisted yourself around his body.

"hey, hey kid," he laughed at you furiously hugging his middle, "i love that you're here but i told you about visiting me, didn't i? we had this conversation-" he was stopped right there as you kissed him, cupping his face. he was out of breath, pupils dilated when it finally set in.

maybe he saw the way you sweet doe eyes were welling up with tears, or the way you swayed in his arms as if he let you go you could crumble, or the way you were trying to mouth words, but nothing was coming out of your mouth. he furiously swore under his breath, and pulled you along with him - you followed like a puppy.

the dim lights of the corner he had pulled you in soothed your state. no longer did your skin ich, but your head still pounded. rafe looked down at you with a worried expression, as he rubbed your back. you were still holding on to him, wide-eyed.

"hey?" he snapped his fingers, "can't be doing that here. not right now. what's wrong?" he asked harshly, and you shook your head, completely nonverbal. he raised a hand through his buzzed hair, concern evident in his eyes. whenever you got like this- which was never he had to remind himself to be gentle.

finally, he dropped himself, voice quiet. he didn't care if people saw him like this- all vulnerable. "sweets are you okay?" he probed again. finally with trembling hands, you reached out into your bag to get the pregnancy test- and broke into tears. the two double lines spread fear throughout his heart.

rafe had changed. that was a fact, he no longer was plagued by his fathers words as much as before. but could he be a father? suddenly he looked down at you, wispy lashes wet, and doe eyes pleading. suddenly, he felt something blossom in his heart. he imagined you running around in tannyhil, round with his kid. you would be wearing a pretty sun dress, as laughter rang through you.

finally, he closed his eyes, "it's gonna be okay."

you seemed to take that as a bad sign, gasping out muffled words, "no, rafe, i didn't know what was going to happen, please-" your hand reached out for his, hoping that things were going to be okay.

rafe was still looking at the test, as he closed and opened his mouth before shaking his hand, "we're gonna get married, all right? yeah, and i want you to stay here with me. 'cause i need you here." he said tapping your head. there was a watery smile on your face, as you jumped into his arms.

he held you tightly, and you sniffed. before letting go of him to look into his eyes. it was at that moment that you realised how much he loved you. when he's staring at you like you are his world, and his steel eyes are soft. when his eyes are welling up with tears.

"just really happy and shit," he chuckled, "i can't believe this," he murmured out before pressing his lips on yours. finally, he pulled apart from you, still gazing into your eyes.

"you should go," you found yourself whispering out "it's time for your match." yet your hand found a deathly hold on him.

you saw him smile, and give you a peck on the lips, "want you to watch, 'kay? i'm fighting this match for you," and then his hands travelled down to your stomach, "you and baby."

dazed you watched him step up into the ring and sighed. if this was love, you'd fight for it any day.

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absolutebl · 3 days

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This Week in BL - Lesbians WIN & I'm excited about a Thai BL again!

Organized, in each category, with ones I'm enjoying most at the top.

April 2024 Wk 4

Ongoing Series - Thai

My Stand-In (Thai Fri iQIYI) ep 1 of 12 eps - Adaptation of Chinese novel Professional Body Double by Shui Qiang Cheng. Stars Up (Lovely Writer) and Poom (Bake Me Please) directed by the same team as KP (not a recommendation IMHO - my biggest criticism of KP was the clashing directing styles). The MDL description made it sound complicated af but actually it's not so bad. In fact it's GOOD.

Stuntman Joe dies on the job and wakes up in the body of another Joe who has an entirely different life. But our Joe just gets his new body right back into his old existence, full of friends, enemies, and one troublesome ex. Poom is absolutely killing it in the lead. Mek is perfectly cast as the Actor du Jerk. I’m not sold on Up’s bratty brokenhearted rich kid... yet. The show though, I like it. I like a one (two) night stand starting things off and I like a lot of morally gray characters. Fun fun!

Deep Night (Thurs iQiyi) ep 8fin - The lesbian moms are the cutest thing in the world and my favorite thing this week. Bar none.

Summation:

It's about a host club and all the gay boys in it and some stuff that's not important because... PEOPLE OF EARTH WE HAVE A HONEST REP OF POLY IN A BL. Stand up and raise your hands in prayer to the Thai BL gods because sure as shit no one else was ever going to give this to us. For that alone this show gets 8/10 from me. Bonus Lesbian moms and great kisses.

Two Worlds (Thurs iQIYI) ep 7 of 10 - Say what you want about MaxNat all these years that they've been paired makes them great onscreen boyfriends. And you know me, I'm a total sucker for linguistic negotiation. Makes my heart go all mushy. That said, now that the leads are together, I’m really uninterested in all the drama around the ex-boyfriend/triangle. I'm glad this is only 10 eps.

1000 Years Old (Thurs iQIYI) ep 11 of 12 - They gave me the tiniest teaser for the kinky vampire BL that I have wanted my whole life. And now I'm just fucking annoyed with the rest of the show.

We Are (Weds iQIYI) ep 3-4 of 16 - Q & Toey are the only interesting thing going on. I actually didn’t like this pair in My School President, but I’m enjoying them here. The others are all fine but these two have my heart. I have questions like: did Phum ever get his shopping bags back? And why is Phum driving a different colored car half way through the ep?

Only Boo! (Sun YouTube) ep 3 of 12 - The quality is good (it’s GMMTV) but the acting is... not. Still I loved that Moo just made the confession for both of them. Very in character. Does this plot remind anyone else of Footloose? Just me? Side couple was cute but now a bit too stalker for me.

Ongoing Series - Not Thai

Unknown (Taiwan Tues YouTube & Viki) ep 10 of 12 - It’s fantastic. Such a great show. We are so lucky. This is basically Taiwan’s The Eights Sense. I didn’t know they had it in them, but I’m really glad that they did.

Living With Him AKA Kare no Iru Seikatsu (Japan Thurs Gaga) ep 3 of 10 - As JBL’s go this is way more my speed (than Alaska). It’s just so sweet and awkward but charming about it. The confession was so earnest.

Blue Boys (Korea YouTube) 2 of ? No MDL link - It’s very sexy this one. Not sure what Korea thinks it's doing, but I’m not mad about it.

Gray Shelter (Korea Thurs iQIYI) ep 5fin - summation: About a slacker nursing a crush on the (brief) older stepbrother who abandoned him. Upon finding him again he moves in with him, upends the mans lost suffering life. A dark gritty piece with confusing subs making it too chewy to really grok. It's trying to do too much for its length. The tension is real and the acting is good, it's just everything else stymied clean execution of the core concept. Frankly I spent this show expecting (and wanting them) to just fall into bed together - in a kind of desperate fight sex. It didn’t happen, and I’m disappointed by the non-ending we got. (Whether it’s going to have more in the series or not.) 7/10 I'm open to changing the rank if a part two fixes this one's flaws.

Boys Be Brave AKA Roommates (Korea Thurs Viki) ep 1-2 of 8 - Oh dear. Terrible hair. Jock nerd pairing. OCD baby cakes. Cohabitation trope. Killer side couple. Def unhinged.

At 25:00 in Alaska AKA 25 Ji Akasaka de (Japan Thurs Gaga) ep 2 of 10 - I’m still genuinely not sure about this one. It’s just a little too awkward for me in the wrong way. I expect all Japanese BL to have a certain aura of awkwardness so I don’t know what it is about this one turnign me off. I do enjoy that we’re getting both stories, the one between the actors, and a little bit of the roles that they’re playing on screen but... yeah

Love is like a Cat (Korea Mon Viki) eps 7-8 of 12 - The leads finally had a moment but there is negative chemistry. Why am I watching this?

It's airing but...

Lady Boy Friends (Thai WeTV grey) 16 eps - reminds me a bit too much of Diary of Tootsies only high school. Not my thing. DNF unless it turns a corner and is truly amazing.

Memory in the Letter (Thai WeTV) - 6 eps, when it's done, tell me if I should bother?

In case you missed it

Kiseki Chapter 2 (Sun iQIYI) 6 eps - finished its run but I won't be finishing it. Stays dropped.

GMMTV announced the second half of their 2024 line up. I got excited and picked my favorites, details + trailers here. Basically my ranking is:

The Heart Killers

ThamePo

Revamp

Sweet Tooth

Perfect 10 Liners

The Ex-Morning

Ossan’s Love Thailand

Next Week Looks Like This:

What happened?

Knock-Knock Boys (Thai WeTV) - 4 college friends conspire to help their friend lose his virginity. Familiar faces like Seng (yes, Billy's previous pairing) and Best, news here. But will it actually air this month?

Upcoming BLs for 2024 are listed here. This list is not kept updated, so please leave a comment if you know something new or RP with additions.

THIS WEEK’S BEST MOMENT

I have adopted him. He is MINE. I love him, your honor. (The Stand In)

I love them SO MUCH. (Deep Night)

(Last week)

Streaming services are listed by how I (usually) watch, which is with a USA based IP, and often offset by a day because time zones are a pain.

The tag BLigade: @doorajar @solitaryandwandering @my-rose-tinted-glasses @babymbbatinygirl @babymbbatinygirl @isisanna-blog @mmastertheone @pickletrip @aliceisathome @urikawa-miyuki @tokillamonger @rocketturtle4 @blglplus @anythinggoesintheshire @everlightly @renafire

If ya wanna be tagged each week leave a comment and I will add you to the template. Easy peesy.

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little-sleepy-owl · 2 days

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𝐀𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫,

who is a virgin and wants him to be their first. gender neutral, not so much explicit, but still smutty, as usual. Alastor is his own warning. kinda.

this one took me a while for several reasons. mostly because life is a bitch, but also because it was a really hard piece to write. I'm asexual myself and this is heavily self-indulgent. I wanted to maintain this treat of his, but still explore the sexual aspect of the relationship and the way asexual people might participate in it. so... yeah. proceed with understanding of this.

oh? so, you're just like him.

the only one who is not surprised whatsoever. isn't it supposed to be that way?

though there are a lot of vulgar people around. he might even praise you for keeping your chastity for so long.

but… becoming your first?

“Truly, my dear? That's quite the favor to ask a gentleman!”

it's less about being repulsed by the idea of intimacy (it doesn't sound bad if it's with you) and more about not wanting to step into a completely uncharted territory.

that's a first for him too, after all.

give him time. he needs to research some things before he's ready to try.

a week or two later he suddenly appears out of the shadows in your room with loud static noises, scaring the shit out of you, and announces that he would be very pleased to take the offer!!

hooray..? (please come out from under the bed, darling.)

now, just like Husk, he is an old-fashioned man. for him, this could only happen after a nice date.

he prefers a simple stroll around the city arm in arm, and having some coffee with you.

you can sense that he's a tad nervous, but also deeply thrilled. his posture is a little stiff while walking, ears, usually unmoving, twitch slightly here and there. it's cute.

you also notice he's more physically intimate with you today than usual. sitting a bit closer to you and leaning in subtly, so you can feel his warmth. gently covering your hand with his own. reaching to fix your hair, touch feather-like and making your heart pound in your chest.

none of it is sexual in any way, but the difference in his demeanor doesn't let you forget your plans for the night even for a moment.

judging by the sly curve of his smile and very attentive gaze, this is one hundred percent intentional.

inclined to take you into his own room after the date. if you're not against the living forest in the background.

(I suggest you accept the offer. fireflies would be a very romantic addition to your night.)

he needs to talk things out first.

“Let's discuss some rules of our… little arrangement.”

the rules are quite simple, although you might find them odd.

he will not take all his clothes off. especially not the lower part. pants stay on no matter what.

his hands, his mouth? all for your pleasure, darling. no limitations here.

and maybe, if you behave yourself and ask nicely… his shadows, too, can participate.

he merrily refuses to elaborate on what “behaving” means for him exactly. it's simply more fun that way, isn't it?

jacket tossed inside, sleeves rolled up. honestly speaking, it already feels too revealing. you don't think you ever saw so much of his arms or his neck before.

he is in a white shirt today, clean and pure, like the snow on the mountaintop. pristine even.

you never saw this, either.

he follows your gaze and his smile turns a little unsettling. you shiver, suddenly feeling like you are the one who's exposed here, even though you haven't taken off anything yet.

“No blood to stain it today, my dear,” he coos, adjusting the shirt slightly. oh, so usually he wears red for–

you don't want to continue this thought right now.

he's very insistent on undressing you by himself.

he uncovers you like you're his birthday cake in a cute present box. slowly removing every ribbon, carefully taking off the wrapping, anticipating what's underneath.

his hands are cold, but his eyes are heated, even somewhat hungry. and so, so intent.

he drinks on your every shiver, on the way your lips parts ever so slightly to let out a small gasp, on the goosebumps that run on your skin, when he leans in to nibble on your pretty neck, right beside the quicked throbbing of your pulse.

he hums an old tune, seemingly lost in exploration of your body and the way you respond to his touch.

he's eager to learn and very observant. he changes the pace the moment he notices you feeling uncomfortable. he discovers what makes you respond well and uses the knowledge without any shame.

but he also does very much love you telling him what you want him to do with that cute trembling voice of yours.

that's what eventually earns you the shadows taking part in the whole fun. if this is something you desire.

if you weren't satisfied before, you most certainly are now.

expect him to restrain you. he likes to see you squirming under his touch, unable to set the pace. he does everything deliberately slow, so you would beg him to give you more and do it faster.

he's very controlling in general, and although he takes into account what you want, he will also act on his own whim.

it honestly seems that he likes teasing and tormenting you to see your reactions much more than the physical aspect of it all.

humor him, and he will reward you accordingly.

but don't let him get too lost in it. he has a tendency to forget that you're not merely a toy to play with.

set some boundaries and you'll be alright.

once you both decide it's enough, he's a thoughtful gentleman again, bringing a glass of water for you, and helping you clean yourself up.

will let you rest your head on his lap, gentle light of fireflies surrounding you.

he sings a shooting melody, letting you peacefully drift off to sleep.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x reader #romantic/sexual

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fraugwinska · 11 hours

Note

I'm dying to see you write Alastor opening up to Reader about his mom, maybe a little angst and lots of fluff? (- v -)''

WE NEED THAT MOMMAS BOY GETTING SOME COMFORT!

Finally Anon, I found the strengh to write this. Sorry it took so long - I hope it was worth the wait! Next story will be less sad, I promise! :'< But I think we can all find some love for our Mommas Boy today, right? (Prepare your handkerchiefs, fellas...)

❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️

Mother O'Mine

Not the kitchen. Not the lobby. Not the bar. Not the radio tower. Not his room.

You sighed and stilled for a moment, thinking of a place where he could've gone.

If Angel had just shut his damn mouth. Mother's day was a shit day for everyone in the hotel. You, who never knew a mother, raising yourself in the farce that had been the foster care system, rued the day. Charlie was still in denial about her mothers blatant absence and ignorance, Husk melancholic and tense at the memory of seeing his mother being exterminated shortly after reuniting with her in hell, and Vaggie bitterly wanted to ignore the holiday all together, feeling as though she would be betraying the mother she could no longer reach in heaven as a fallen angel.

Angel had been pissing them all off by breakfast, obnoxiously mocking their various reasons of why this day felt even heavier than others in hell. You knew it was his own way of coping with his mommy issues - something he didn't even talk about with Husk, as far as you knew, but he bordered on being not only menacing, but outright cruel.

Alastor had listened to his rambling stoically, flipping eggs while drinking his coffee with not much more than an annoyed twitch in his brow, but then the spider made the gruesome mistake to mention her.

Alastor's mom.

"What, 'ya think any of 'ya mothers could even look at 'ya without punchin' themselves? Come on, look me in the eyes and tell me Bambi's mommy wouldn't be fuckin' disappointed by what her little fawn has become... Can ya really see a sweet southern lady all happy, lovin', and coddling ol' murder-clown Alas..."

The green explosion came faster than you could blink. You were frozen in place, only staring in fear and worry when Angel landed unceremoniously into the table with the rest of the breakfast, the other residents as shocked and dazed as you were, while the radio static and greenish-black shadows seeped away from Alastor who then swiftly made his way out without a word, holding his staff while his tendrils bristled dangerously.

Alastor had vanished and the only thought coming to your mind - after giving a cursing, groaning Angel a righteous 'You fucking deserved that'-speech - was that you needed to find him before the princess did to make sure the demon had calmed enough not to finally lose it and maul her to pieces. Charlie meant well, but she didn't know. No one did know, except for you, and even you only knew so much.

It's not like it had been an elaborate talk. It just happened, after a nightmare that made him tear up in a mixture of rage and sorrow, a bad memory that had made his shadow basically drag you, half asleep still, from your bed to his in the middle of the night. Why you? You weren't so sure. Alastor usually preferred your company more than the others just because you were the most neutral, sane person in the hotel. Some would even say impassive. An introvert who didn't draw attention, silent and observing. But not once had his shadow ever acted up around you, and while it wasn't overly friendly with anyone, it seemed to watch mostly you with curious glances and interested hisses. When you had finally woken up enough to comprehend your situation, you were sprawled across Alastors stomach with his arms wound so tightly around you you struggled to breathe, strained mumbled words pressed through gritted teeth into your nightgown.

"Mother... I'm sorry... Oh mother..."

He had been sobbing into your shoulders and and shaking against your chest while he let go of a strange anger and grief he never seemed to get rid of while you had, confused but worried, whispered words of comfort in a hushed, soothing voice until you both dozed back to sleep. Morning broke, and when you opened your eyes again, he was sitting on the edge of his bed, not able to look you in the eyes. He had thanked you, gruffly and with an unsteady voice that made your heart ache, before offering his hand to teleport you back to your room. As far as you were concerned, the weirdest of it was that you felt him caress the palm of your hand with his thumb, barely audible as he mumbled that "that should have never have happened, and we shall never speak of it again." - he was usually a gentleman, and he never touched you this intimately before - but, to him, it was obviously a humiliating and horrible thing that you had witnessed him like that.

And you didn't speak of it. No one knew, and you intended to keep it that way. It was a moment you shared and fragile trust was on the table. You would take it to your second grave, along with all those feelings that had come with it, to prevent it from breaking.

Back to the present, you sighed and massaged the bridge of your nose. You had checked all the obvious places that crossed your mind, so maybe, you should start to look at the not-so-obvious ones... Maybe some place you knew was connected to... His mom...

A sudden pang hit you as you got an idea of where he might be hiding.

"Is this seat taken?"

The roof of the hotel was usually restricted from access, due to the general instability and collapse-prone architecture it presented, but you and (after an admittedly awkward encounter on a hot day that had involved you in a two-pieced swimsuit sunbathing and a very flustered Alastor with a book in one and a severed hand on a plate in the other hand) the radio demon knew about a small nook between the roof's overhead window frames and the hotel's ventilation system, hidden by the growing shadow of the radio tower where no one else ever came looking. A hideout, a place to go when you wanted undisturbed solitude. You had quickly left the place, apologizing for intruding a space that Alastor had apparently already claimed for himself (explaining the existence of the lounge chair you've so rudely used), but soon enough he discreetly invited you back, second chair added, to sit in silence together every once in a while, as long as you swore secrecy. It became a place of comfort for both of you, a retreat when life in the hotel got too stressful.

Alastor's reaction to seeing you was a quickly stifled hum before going back to staring stubbornly at the horizon. He looked dejected, and if you would not have known him so well, you wouldn't have noticed the trembling twitch of his ears nor the way his claw tapped impatiently against his knee, his shadow balled in on itself while hovering at the edge of the small roof.

It looked like he was staring straight through the distant buildings of the pentagram to the faintly illuminated orb that was heaven next to hells own sun, while also refusing to acknowledge you or the world around him at all. His smile had slipped into an emotionless line of pursed lips.

"That depends" he mused quietly. "Are you here to make me return to that insolent arachnid and attempt a 'healing' conversation?"

"I think you know I know that I couldn't even if i wanted to." You tried a weak smile.

Alastor briefly met your eyes at that, giving away that, despite his aloof act, your comment got his attention and he considered it before turning back to the horizon, the tense posture relaxing somewhat. A brief silence passed until he hummed an affirmative noise. "Then you may sit, darling."

After sitting down, minutes passed without a word said. The distant roar of the bustling traffic carried the muffled sounds of hell with the usual maelstrom of catcalling, profanities and general noises of mayhem to you, while you fought to keep a certain twitch in your hands as you counted the beats of his heels clicking on the tiles.

"You must know... my mother was a rare light in a world of filth." he declared suddenly into the silence. "An honest, virtuous soul of beauty and strength." He said it slowly and, surprisingly, completely unamused, the clacking of his shoes ceasing at once. He stared at the city in contempt, hands clasped together and resting on his legs to hold back a tremble that you caught anyway.

"She, unlike me, had not a spec of corruption in her bones. Wherever she found the warmth and love she shared with me, I cannot fathom. But she did. I may have been mocked and shunned by the world, the bastard child of a black woman and a white man, but I always had her as my home to return to.” The knuckles on his hands turned white. “But the cruelty of life and the disgusting human that was my father, the unbearable excuse of a man, killed her before I was grown enough to help. Before I was old enough to kill that monster myself." He spat the words, claws digging deeper until a faint trickle of blood could be seen. "I remedied that circumstance, twice to be exact, although it couldn't make up for what was lost. Nothing I did to him could make up for it..." his smile widened bitterly as his face twitched, recalling a fond, yet regretful memory. "… and believe me, I tried. But it was cathartic nonetheless, and quite educational... for my further career."

You stayed quiet and studied his profile, patiently waiting for him to continue talking. It was painfully obvious how hard it was for him to speak about actual feelings, with his tense grin and his white knuckles dripping with crimson blood.

"I knew, of course, where I would end up after my demise, and that I would never be able to see her again. Because I was sure she'd end up in heaven, like the saint she was. Is." He cleared his throat, attempting to appear dismissive, but you saw it. The sadness, the longing, the resignation, and it shattered your heart.

"Alastor...", you knew he hated physical touch, but your hand reached out on its own, to stop his hands from ripping themselves apart. He stiffened at the contact, but said nothing.

"Don't tell me you took what Angel said to heart..."

"How could my mother love me after what I've become after her death?"

His tone was monotonous, but his hands trembled under your fingers. He refused to look at you, but you saw his eyes, glazed with wetness that threatened to turn into actual tears. How he could still smile was beyond you, you had your theories on that, but that wasn't important right now. What mattered was that he was hurting, and that fact broke your heart. You never knew motherly love, how could you really miss something you never really knew? But Alastor did, and it had been ripped from him in the must cruel way, the impact of it so hard it made him even question the very foundation it was built upon.

You moved your hand from his to cup his cheek and turn his face to yours. His expression was blank, and if it weren't for the tight grin and the eyes filled with an unspeakable anguish, it would have been an emotionless stare.

"Alastor, do you know the poem Mother O'Mine?"

"I'm afraid the memory of it fails me, darling."

"Then, I'll recite it for you."

"Why?"

You gave him a sad smile.

"Because I want to."

He eyed you with stunned curiosity as you reached into your pocket, glad for once for your mostly useless power. You've only told Husk about it, in one of your late nights where everyone else was asleep aside him and your insomnia got the better of you, drunk and as a bargaining chip for one last gin tonic.

The blank piece of paper was a bit crumpled, but it would do. You started to fold it while you spoke, your voice sounded soft and almost like a spell.

"If I were hanged on the highest hill, Mother o' mine, O mother o' mine! I know whose love would follow me still, Mother o' mine, O mother o' mine!"

Your fingers moved with a solemn purpose as you folded the paper this way and that, a skill you perfected out of boredom over the years, the edges turning into an elegant shape, the poem coming from your mouth like a song. Alastor watched your hands move in a trance, not sure what you were doing, but too focused on the faint glow of purple around them to ask.

"If I were drowned in the deepest sea, Mother o' mine, O mother o' mine! I know whose tears would come down to me, Mother o' mine, O mother o' mine!"

There in your hand, sat a little origami bird. It wasn't anything special, maybe a traditional crane would have been better, more elegant, but you were out of practice and for what you intended to do it would work either way. Carefully you reached out, silently demanding for one of Alastor's hands that were still digging into each other. He didn't protest, and slowly raised it to give his hand to you. The tips of his claws were covered in a thin, fresh layer of his own blood, and his skin was warm and slightly clammy. You put the little paper bird on his palm, a speck of his blood staining the bottom of the pristine white paper, and closed his fingers around it, holding it in both of yours.

"If I were damned of body and soul, I know whose prayers would make me whole, Mother o' mine, O mother o' mine."

His enclosed hand in your own was encased in purple light, with wide eyes he followed the soft tugs of your fingers and opened his hand. The little paper bird flapped it's wings on his flat palm, looking at him for a heartbeat before taking off and flew in a singular circle around his head before it headed into hells deep red sky, towards the bright heavenly sphere. You watched it until it vanished completely from view, hoping there was a possibility that maybe, with a bit of luck, it would find it's way to her.

"This, Alastor, is what a real mother is. She loves you, I'm sure of it. Always has and always will."

Tears fell silently on his lap, a strangled, coarse breath escaping him. Without warning, he pulled you from your chair into him, holding you pressed close to him. Just like in the night of his nightmare, his face was buried in your chest, arms wound tightly around you in a hurting embrace and shoulders trembling with suppressed grief. His grip was bordering on painful, but you wrapped your arms around his neck, burying one of your hands in his hair, stroking gently while you let him quietly cry into your shoulder, not caring that the wetness of his tears was soaking through the fabric of your shirt. You felt his heart beating rapidly, his pulse erratic and his breathing fast.

"I miss her. Oh, how I miss her."

You held him tighter.

"I know, Al... I know."

You didn't know how long you two stayed like this, him in your arms and crying silently while you tried your best to comfort him, but you didn't care. As far as you were concerned, you would stay here forever if it only meant to lift this weight for a little while from his shoulders.

It took him some time, but eventually his breathing evened out, and he calmed down, his hold becoming less desperate and more... affectionate. You didn't realize it at first, but he had moved, his head resting under your chin and his forehead leaning against the hollow of your throat, his antlers slightly poking the thin skin. It felt strangely intimate, and you wondered if he was aware of what he was doing, but the moment he moved to get up and leave, you knew the spell was broken. He didn't let go of you entirely, but instead helped you to stand up and held your hand, his gaze firmly planted to the ground, avoiding your eyes.

"Darling, I..."

"Don't worry, Alastor. Although I'm glad I was able to be here when it happened... we shall never speak of this again."

You could feel his hesitation, a strange nervousness radiating from him. His shadow hovered next to him, a hand reaching out towards your face. You smiled at it, and, just for a brief moment, allowed yourself to lean into it's warm, buzzing touch as it caressed your cheek, before you turned and made your way back inside without a glance back to the sudden sound of a longing hum.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #alastor #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel fanfiction #fraugwinskawrites #angel dust #charlie morningstar #quickfic #light angst #comfort #alastor is a mommas boy #alastor needs a hug #and a good cry #and some sleep

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caesium-55 · 3 days

Text

—everything is orange. [ iv ]

pairing: lando norris x kpop idol! reader

summary: a racecar driver who needed a fake girlfriend to dispel rumors and a kpop idol who needed publicity for her song. somewhere in between orange cars and orange sunsets, stands something they're afraid of naming.

note: omg im so sorry for not being online lately. i got a writing part time job now so... i may not be as active as before. hope yall are having a great day! not edited. not beta read.

masterlist.

Everything inside your studio is gray. The walls, the couch, the floor, the instruments. It's the kind of room that will make a sad beige mom over the moon.

But when you open the door and the sight of one Lando Norris greets you, looking devilishly handsome in his dark blue button up shirt and black pants and Nike sneakers with his curls concealed underneath his dark blue bucket hat, the studio suddenly doesn't feel as gray as it usually is.

“Lando?” Your brows rise towards your hairline. Truthfully, he’s one of the last people you expected to see inside HAN Ent’s building, much less outside your studio.

“Hi,” he smiles charmingly at the shock in your voice, showing all teeth and smile lines. “Do you mind if I come in?”

You stammer, still not over your shock, “S-Sure.”

You step aside to grant him space and allow him to enter your magic shop. Lando’s eyes curiously roam around the studio and you close the door behind him, nudging the houseplant further to the wall using your foot to avoid getting tripped on it in the future.

“Take a seat. Please,” you invite, gesturing towards the couch. Lando takes the invitation and sits down. He looks too big on the couch, you note. He has long legs and an athletic build. Perhaps, it’s time to buy a bigger one.

“Nice place,” he compliments.

You want to snort out loud but refrain yourself from doing so.

Lando is saying things out of politeness.

Your studio is shit.

You know that.

It used to be a stock room that was converted into a studio when Yoon PD-nim offered you that deal, that's why the room is graciously small. They soundproofed the walls, painted everything gray, shoved in a few pieces of recording equipment and called it a day.

It's still quite nice of Lando to compliment the place though. You might hate this place but this is your wizard’s tower, your witch’s hut, your magic shop, and you feel pride swell in your chest when someone thinks your little corner is cool, even if you think he’s lying.

“Thanks,” you say sincerely. “How did you know I was…”

“I asked Jinnie,” he says simply.

“Ah,” your tone falls flat.

A moment's pause.

“So this is where you’ve been working?”

You nod. Suddenly, you feel conscious.

Your studio isn't really in the best state right now. When you work in a creative fever, you tend to make a mess. Being messy enhances your creativity. The sprawled papers with lyrics, the empty styro cups of coffee lying around, numerous pens and pencils (you don't even know why you feel the need to bring a lot of them) and rubber erasers, and your snacks. There's a mountain of crumpled paper in your trash can.

“Sorry, the place isn't really….” you trail off, making vague gestures with your hand. “I didn't know you were coming.”

“It's okay,” he chuckles. “I called, you know. And texted. You didn’t return any of it.”

“Oh, my phone’s charging,” you say, beginning to feel bad that you accidentally ignored him. “And my notifs are silent.”

“That explains it.”

“Shouldn't you be resting?” you asked. “You have a flight tomorrow.”

It's currently the 19th. Lando is set to leave for Japan on the 20th. His team wants him in Suzuka by September 20 and not later than that. They already had a field day when Lando announced that he's flying with you. At first, he wanted it to be just you and him. His team wouldn't let him because he can be a PR nightmare if given enough freedom so they let his manager, Kyla, tag along.

You’ve mistaken Kyla as a member of the PR team. Turns out she’s his manager.

“Is it a sin to want to spend a few hours with my girlfriend before I go?” he flutters his eyes innocently. You snorted.

“Fake but okay.”

“I’m being sincere here, girlfriend,” he pushes his lips into a pout. “Did you eat already?”

“No,” you answer.

“Should we grab something together?”

“Should we?” you humor his suggestion. It's been a few hours since you’ve eaten. You’ve skipped both breakfast and lunch.

“I think I can call a restaurant and make a reservation.”

“It's near midnight,” you point out, glancing down at the Rolex decorating his wrist. Isn't he aware of how late it is?

“So?”

“Restaurants are closed by now,” you state.

Lando shrugs.

“I can make the effort of finding those seafood pasta you like.”

Your brows furrow.

“What do you mean like? I never said I like those.”

“But I thought…” Lando blinks. “I’ve read it somewhere…”

“Huh?”

“You're from Jeju, right? You grew up eating seafood so you like seafood and you once said you have a palate for Italian food. I tried…liking the pasta with seafood. I hated it but I ate it anyway.”

Your jaw hangs open at the revelation.

This is single-handedly the sweetest thing someone has ever done to you.

You don't know whether to be touched about the sincerity or to cry because of his idiocy. You can definitely do both but you refuse to do both. You have an image to maintain.

“Didn't I tell you that the company manipulated my public information?” you ask incredulously. “Yes, I was from Jeju but I didn’t eat seafood much. I have a mild allergy—”

“In seafood?” you see his eyes widen into saucers. Oops, you shouldn't have said that. “Wait, you had an allergy attack, didn't you? On those lunch dates we had? Why didn't you tell me so early on?”

“I thought you liked it!” your voice raises slightly, panicked. You're caught. He isn't supposed to know about this.

“I didn't?! I loathe seafood but I ate a few bites because I thought you liked it!”

You blink at him. That is the sweetest while simultaneously the most stupid thing someone has ever done for you. You drag a hand across your face, a groan escaping your mouth and yet you’re smiling. You shake your head at him.

Points for Lando Norris for making you capable of feeling frustrated and another feeling you cannot name.

“We’re idiots.”

There is a stretch of silence before Lando speaks up.

“What do you want to eat? And please tell me the real one.”

You began listing the first three things that appeared inside your brain, “I like…. ramyeon, natto, and tteokbokki.”

You have a palate for convenience store food. Food that you can find in busy night markets. Food that is sold by street vendors. The kind of food that tastes like absolute shit if cold but tastes like home if microwaved into the right amount of temperature. If you venture in your imagination hard enough, you can taste your mother’s cooking after a few bites. But you don't tell Lando that.

“We can eat that.”

You raise a brow.

“The ramen, the chicken, and the tteokdokdok.”

“Tteokbokki,” you correct him gently.

“Tteoktokki,” he repeats.

“Tteok.”

“Bokki.”

“Tteokbokki.”

“Tteokdokki.”

You shake your head, “Tteok-Bo-Kki.”

“Tteok-Bo-Kki.”

You snap your fingers, nodding in approval, “Better.”

“I literally said the same thing.”

“You didn't.”

“Where will we eat this tteokbokki?” He says the tteokbokki slowly, careful with his pronunciation.

“There are night markets nearby,” you tell him. “It’s crowded though. I know a good convenience store that’s a good drive away. It’s usually empty. Do you go to convenience stores?”

You suddenly feel stupid for asking.

Do multi-millionaires like Lando Norris go to convenience stores? It’ll make much more sense if he books restaurants or employs a private chef to cook for him at home. Do they even have a palate for instant food? What do rich people snack on? You don't know. You're not rich. Even after becoming famous, you’re still not rich enough to live the life of luxury.

This just highlights the difference of the worlds you and Lando live in.

“I do. Just not frequently,” he shrugs. “We can go to the convenience store if you want. I don't mind.”

“No, it’s fine. We can eat anywhere you want. Jinnie might have a few hotel restaurants in mind.”

“But do you want to eat in hotel restaurants?”

His question makes you pause and Lando immediately takes your hesitation as a no.

“We can eat anything you want to eat. This is your place anyway. Show me around.”

You bite your lower lip as you contemplate. Should you or should you not? That is the question.

When your eyes drag themselves back to Lando’s face, you see that he’s already looking at you intently as he awaits your answer patiently. You want to shrink back at the intensity of his gaze.

“Well then, do you want to go on a convenience store date with me, boyfriend?”

Despite the hesitation he’s displayed earlier, Lando grins at your offer.

You take Lando to your favorite place in all of South Korea. Google Maps says it's a three hour drive away. You arrive there in two hours and a half.

Maybe it's a sign to change careers.

You used your Jeep Wrangler. Lando offered to drive but you shook your head and hopped on the driver’s seat, him taking the passenger seat.

You won't allow anyone to drive your car. It's a rule of yours.

The last time you allowed someone to drive your car, your Hyundai jumped over a sewage canal. Lando might be a professional race car driver and that alone spoke multitudes of his driving skills, but you're so traumatized with the incident with your Hyundai that you physically can't allow anyone, professional driver or not, to handle the steering wheel of any other cars you own.

Cars are expensive. You can't buy another car. You’ll bawl when you see the money departing your bank account.

You palm the steering-wheel with your right hand. Your left hand lays flat on the back of the passenger seat, behind Lando’s head. Your upper body is rotated towards the back, full focus activated as you reverse the car in expert ease. Lando is observing you, you can tell. You can feel his eyes burning holes in your side profile.

“You okay?” You ask Lando. The man has gone uncharacteristically silent when you’ve started reversing the car. You hear Lando let out a breath. Almost shakily. You cannot tell for sure.

“Yeah,” his voice breaks like a boy undergoing puberty and you have to thin your lips into a line to prevent yourself from laughing. “Nice parking skills.”

“Thanks,” you say nonchalantly. “You sure you're okay though?”

“Yeah, don’t worry,” you see his Adam's apple bobbing up and down as he rubs his throat. “I think the seatbelt’s a little too tight.”

Once the car’s perfectly parked, you kill the engine and exit the car. Lando follows suit.

“I don't know why you have to drive for almost three hours just to visit this place,” Lando gestures to the surroundings. “There's nothing here.”

“Exactly,” you say. “Come on, boyfriend.”

You pat his shoulder and lead the way. A bell chimes loudly as you push the door open. You step inside, the British racer only a few steps behind you. You tug down your mask.

“What's this place?” Lando questions.

“24-hour convenience store,” you answer. “But no staff.”

“No staff?” he asks. “So self service?”

“Ah yes, that’s the word. Self service,” You say. “Quite nice, right? We have complete privacy and good food. Two best things in the world.”

“Careful. Your introvert is showing.”

You snort, “First time coming to a place like this?”

“Yeah,” he shrugs. “No staff? Does nobody attempt to steal things?”

You shrug, “Probably not. Ramen is not worth going to jail for.”

“This shop will make a million dollar loss in an hour if it's in another country,” Lando says, his nose wrinkling. “Like in the UK or US or something.”

You beckon Lando to follow you through the aisles, “This way.”

“You even memorize the places of things,” he comments. “You come here often?”

You hum a yes. You stop in front of the freezer and open it, pulling out two plastic cups.

Lando’s forehead creases, “Just ice?”

“This is an ice cup,” you explain.

“Are we going to wait for the ice to melt before drinking it or….”

You stare at him incredulously before promptly bursting out in laughter.

“What's funny?” he asks, genuinely confused.

“Nothing, sorry,” you clear your throat. You don't know why you find that funny. Your humor is broken. “They sell pouches of juice or coffee and you pour it into the cup.”

Lando’s head tilts. He looks like a confused baby owl.

“Here, I’ll show you,” you walk up to a nearby shelf and grab a Kuromi pouch. It's peach-flavored. “This. You pour it here.”

You gesture to the ice cup. Lando’s mouth forms a circle in realization.

“Cool.”

“There are a lot of flavors,” you add, gesturing to the shelf. “Peach, apple, mango, strawberry, orange…”

You read out the flavors for Lando because you know he can't read Hangul. Lando wordlessly picks a grapefruit-flavored pouch. You nod.

“Good choice. Oh wait, we forgot to get a basket. Can you?”

Lando nods and leaves. When he comes back, now with a yellow basket, the two of you continue to browse down the entire store. You explain each of the food. He said no to most of them. Lando is a picky eater, you learn.

The two of you fill the basket near to the brim. You pay for each item, even though Lando insisted that he do it, and you occupy the table that faces that floor-to-ceiling glass window, overlooking the darkness of the night outside.

“Here,” you hand him a plastic fork. Lando accepts it, his brows furrowed. “You were struggling with the chopsticks.”

A shy smile makes its way to his face, “Sorry.”

You wave your hand as if to say it's no problem and plop down on the chair beside him. Lando digs in with his Buldak Samyang carbonara while you stir your Yoppoki Tteokbokki with yours before taking your first bite. You immediately let out a moan of pleasure.

“Is it delicious?” he asked.

“Very.”

You eat until your cheeks fill, chewing slowly.

“Oh wait, you should post something.”

“Now?”

“You took pictures of me earlier, right?” you know he did. He tried to be slick about it but you’d know if someone is taking a picture of you. “Put it on your story.”

“And delete it?”

“No. The world already knows we're dating anyway. Well, fake dating.”

Lando pulls out his phone and shows you the pictures in his gallery. There are aare a total of four pictures. Three are blurry. The other one is blocked by his finger.

“That one is good.”

“What do you mean good? It's blurry.”

“Blurry is an aesthetic.”

Lando shakes his head but opens his Instagram and begins to edit the photo you’ve chosen, “Help me with the caption?”

“I’m not good with them.”

“Me neither.”

“Your first caption was pretty good.”

“You think so?” he sounds hopeful.

You shrug your shoulders.

“Just say something like ‘her’ then put a period.”

That's the limit of your creative powers for the day.

Lando nods and begins typing. He’s typing quite long for a word with three letters and a single punctuation mark. He shows you the caption.

Your brows furrow.

He laughs, “I’m funny.”

“You’re really not,” you shake your head. “Put it in your drafts.”

“So I’m not posting it now?”

“You post it after we leave the place,” you say. “So we’ll be gone by the time the fans see it and decide they’ll come here.”

“That's very smart.”

“That's not being smart. That’s just common sense,” you state flatly.

“You know, I always thought you'd be a cold person.”

You raise a brow, not entirely sure if you're understanding him correctly. Cold is an adjective. It's used to describe temperature. You're uncertain if it can be applied to use as an adjective to describe a person.

Lando must have sensed your confusion that he adds, “Ice queen.”

Oh.

Yeah.

Okay. You understand it now.

“You used to look so cold and cool,” Lando says. “Ice queen. But also an IDGAF attitude. Very intimidating.”

You have no idea what IDGAF means but you nod your head and act like you understand him anyway. You make a mental note to search it up on the internet later.

“But you’re not.”

“I’m not,” you echo.

“You’re actually pretty sweet,” he adds.

“I’m trying to be kind.”

“You don't have to try. You already are.”

“The companies make us act sometimes.”

“What?”

“Like, before debut,” you begin. “There are companies that assign certain images to their idols. They give them parts to play like directors do to actors in movies. Like, oh, you look like this kind of person so you have to act like this kind of person. They take a look at your visuals and decide what role you’ll have. They took one look at my face and told me that I have to be a strict and serious person who is scary and cold and unbothered. I didn't want to do it because I tend to smile really easily before and I just wanted to have a lot of friends, you know?”

You shrug your shoulders.

“When you’re intimidating, you tend to not have a lot of them. Despite that, I followed the role. Many praised me for it and others just….well, they didn't like it. The company was happy, though. They told me I was good at acting. But it's just…sad that the person I am on the screen is not real.”

“Yeah, that's honestly sad. I can't imagine doing that for my team. I’ll suck at it. Imagine me cold and serious,” Lando makes a serious face but he ends up doing a The Rock Smoulder. You have to stop yourself from laughing out loud by thinning your lips and twisting it.

“You're doing it, though. For the team. This whole fake dating thing,” you gesture to yourselves.

Lando mutters something under his breath while stroking his chin. You don't catch it.

“Hm?”

“Nothing. I think your eyes are pretty.”

He's changing the subject. He does it so swiftly, too.

“I know, I thank my mother every day for it,” you joke and Lando chuckles softly. “But don't be jealous, you have pretty eyes yourself.”

He turns into a lovely shade of pink. You can see it. You don't speak of it.

“It changes colors sometimes,” you continue, pointing at your eyes. “Like, it’s kind of gray in the dark. But if the sun shines on it, it has three colors.”

“You stare at my eyes a lot, do you?”

“Well, if a certain thing is pretty, you can't help but stare, you know?”

“Yeah, I guess that's why I stare at you a lot, too.”

You laugh, the sound airy, shaking your head. What a flirt. The cute kind.

“I’m quite the head turner, aren't I?”

“You are,” he agrees seriously.

“You’re not so bad yourself.”

He smirks, confident.

“Careful, you might fall for me, fake girlfriend,” he says cheekily. You have the desire to shatter his ego so you did.

“You're handsome but you're not my type.”

His smirk falters. You give a chortle.

“What's your type then?” he asks, leaning slightly forward. His eyes reflect anticipation.

You fall into a momentary thoughtful silence, “For starters, attractive men who can drive very fast cars. With a racing license this time. Not like me.”

Lando smiles at your light attempt at a joke. Good to know that he finds the dark humor surrounding your career-ending scandal funny.

“I am an attractive man,” he gestures to his face. “With a priceless face and I drive a very fast car. Formula one or sports cars. Oh and would you look at that? I have a racing license and a regular driving license.”

“You are an attractive man,” you agree. “But again, not my type.”

Lando dramatically puts his hand against his chest, right above where his heart lies and acts like you just shot him dead on the spot.

“Hmm, what else? Ah, plays golf,” you list another trait of your ideal man.

“I play golf,” he crosses his arms, leans back against the back of his seat, and lifts his hips a little as he adjusts his sitting position on the chair, manspreading a little. This is one of the subtle things men do that women cannot help but find attractive. You’re also a woman. Of course, you find that attractive.

You roll your eyes, feigning annoyance. Lando laughs at you.

“A few years older than me.”

When Lando opens his mouth, you cut him off, holding up a finger, “I’m older than you.”

By months only but still.

“In the standards of your fake birthday, I am older than you.”

You huff, shaking your head. He is right, to some degree. The world thinks he is older than you because HAN Entertainment decided to lie about your birthday.

“Looks good in red.”

“You know, orange is a mixture of red and yellow. Technically, it's still red. So I look good in red. One plus one equals two. I am connecting shit.”

He raises two index fingers in the air and connects them together to put further emphasis on the words he imparted in a sage-like manner.

“You're not connecting anything.”

“Hell yeah, I am. I am so smart, I should just be McLaren’s chief strategist. Maybe then I can finally get my first win.”

You cannot help but raise an amused brow.

“Fine, if you're so smart Mr. Strategist, what's plan A to your victory?”

His answer comes immediately, no hesitation and he utters it with so much confidence in his chest: “Sneak into Red Bull and steal their car.”

You abruptly burst out laughing, the sound filling up the entire convenience store. You cannot hold it in anymore. You have to slap a hand over your mouth to quiet yourself down.

You don't laugh pretty. You're very much aware of that. You sound like a dolphin when you do. But Lando is so funny that you forget to feel conscious of the weird sound that leaves your mouth for a whole five seconds before you remember to compose yourself and stop.

“You don't have to cover your mouth when you laugh, you know?” he says. “Or try to stop yourself from laughing. Just laugh if you want.”

You give him a look. Why is he turning serious all of a sudden?

“Wait, red?” Lando does a double take once you’ve composed yourself. “Don’t tell me your ideal type is….”

His forehead creases. You nod.

He says, “Carlos?!” the same time you say, “It’s Kim Mingyu.” How did he even come to that conclusion?

Oh wait. Red. Older than you. Drives fast cars. Racing license. Makes sense.

You blink at each other.

“Who the hell is Kim Mingyu?”

“You don't know Kim Mingyu?” you pull out your phone, open Google Photos, and search for the folder named: 민규❤️❤️❤️. The folder contains 7659 photos of Kim Mingyu.

“Fake boyfriend, let me introduce you to my boyfriend, Kim Mingyu,” you show your favorite Mingyu photo.

The one where he’s wearing a black fitted shirt, his cheek against the back of his hand, and the veins in his arms bulging. He’s serving major boyfriend vibes.

Lando rolls his eyes.

“He doesn’t look that good.”

“No, Lando, you are not seeing it,” you hold the phone closer to his face.

“I am seeing it and I am saying he’s not good looking.”

“Lies.”

“I'm not lying.”

“It's Kim Mingyu.”

“And?”

You pull a face, retracting your phone. “Come on, he’s quite good looking. And tall. Very tall.”

You once have to stand beside him in an ending ceremony in Inkigayo. You barely even come up to his chest.

“I’m tall.”

“You’re shorter than him.”

“You're killing me here.”

You chuckle. You pat his shoulder in faux sympathy.

“There, there. That's okay. You're my boyfriend anyway. Don't be jealous.”

“Damn right, I am.”

You snort.

“But you have to stan Seventeen though. After your race in Suzuka, we’ll try to binge GoSe.”

When you’re too full to finish the rest of your tteokbokki, you drag Lando outside the convenience store.

“Sand?” he questions.

“Sand,” you state.

“There's sand in my shoes,” Lando complains.

“Take it off and like,” you make the motion of flipping your shoes upside down to remove the sand inside. He does as you’ve told him but he seems to be not fully satisfied with it. There is still sand inside his shoe.

“This won't do,” he says. “I should have brought flip flops.”

“Let's go barefoot,” you kick off your shoes and neatly place them on the foot of a nearby coconut tree. You motion for Lando to do the same, but you’re met with hesitance.

“What if someone steals them?”

It's a valid concern to have, you suppose. You look around you. Darkness is all that can be perceived.

“Who’d steal them? Cheonyeogwisin?”

“I don't even know what that is.”

“Just leave the shoes here, Lando.”

The sand feels good underneath your feet. A bit ticklish. A little too familiar. You turn on the flashlight of your phone and jog up to the shore.

“Wait for me!” you hear Lando scream from behind you.

“Palli!” you yell back, voice almost drowning in the wind.

“I am palli-ing!”

You roll your pants up to your knees and soak your feet in the cold waves, shivering. You turn around just as Lando body slams you and the two of you fall into the ice-cold waves. Your jaw comes slack, eyes wide. The two of you are now drenched from head to toe.

Lando bashfully smiles, “Sorry.”

“Lando!” you splash him in his face.

Lively shrieks fill the silent night sky. The stars twinkle with mirth at the two of you, the line between fake and real blurring.

Lando flies out just four hours after you arrive in Seoul proper. You feel bad for bringing him somewhere far and not giving him enough hours to rest. Then, he tells you: "It's one of the best nights I've ever had."

He sounds so sincere that you have to stop yourself from blushing red.

In the schedule Jinnie gave you, you are only required to make an appearance in the race proper on the 24th. You have the 20th, 21st, and 22nd to work on your single before having to fly out on the 23rd. Regardless, you fly to Japan on the 21st with Jinnie in tow, two days earlier than your original schedule.

Jinnie doesn't question nor protest against your obvious disobedience on the appointed schedule. You're glad she didn't.

"Lando?" you question after seeing the man standing behind your hotel door. It's nearly twelve and you've just checked in the hotel with Jinnie. "What are you..."

"Just checking in," he smiles. "Do you mind if I come in?"

"Don't you have a race tomorrow?" Despite your question, you sidestep to let him inside your hotel room. "You should be resting."

"That's okay. I'm well rested. Are you going to watch the FP1 tomorrow?"

You shake your head, "I'm going to work on my song."

"Oh," his face falls. "Why'd you fly in early then?"

You shrug.

Honestly, you don't know either.

It's an act based purely on impulse. Not your finest moments.

"Maybe I can watch?" you say. "I'm not really sure."

You don't want to get mobbed again.

ORACLE has a rather large fanbase in Japan. You know there will be curious fans who'll await your appearance in the race. And while you're glad that your PR relationship with Lando is receiving the right type of attention from the public, you still hate having this much attention on you.

"You don't have to if you don't want to," Lando says.

"I'll go," you decide with finality. "I mean this is why we're doing this in the first place, right? Make people believe that we're real."

Lando's lips form a line.

"I suppose."

"Then, I'll be there."

The song making can wait.

Once again, Jinnie takes charge in deciding your clothing. You’ve long since given up on protesting or even suggesting your ideas. You have to get used to it again. Wearing whatever is given to you like a doll. After all, you are to return to the stage of KPop again.

Today’s WAG OOTD is a Miu Miu black dress, a black leather jacket, and Gianvito Rossi strappy sandals. Nothing too impressive. It's just the free practice sessions after all.

Jinnie hands you the McLaren ball cap and you grimace.

“How's the song coming up?”

“I’ve been trying to combine my demos and see how it sounds,” you reply. “But I have a concept in mind and I jotted down a few phrases for the lyrics.”

“I got an email from Yoon PD-nim today. He’s strongly suggesting you use a racing concept for your single.”

Strongly suggesting.

Translation: commanding.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

Fuck it.

He’s really going to use the scandal and hope it’ll make you rise from the ashes like a phoenix reborn. The problem is that you're far from a phoenix. You’re human. As disappointing that may be but that is the cold truth. You're uncertain how people will react if you use a racing concept. You cannot afford to risk this over something like this.

You have one chance. And if KNetz reacts badly on your song and your MV, you’re never going to have another chance to go back on stage, to go back home.

Yoon PD-nim is too thoughtless at times. You want to shake him.

Jinnie drives you to the paddock and drops you to the parking lot. You expect that you’ll have to find your way to the garage again alone. Your knees are trembling as you step out of the car.

To your surprise, a staff member of the McLaren team—you assume he works for the team because of the orange polo shirt—approaches you as you exit the car.

“[Name]?”

“Hi,” you offer a polite smile.

“I’m Rick, I’m one of Lando’s mechanics, pleasure to meet you,” he introduces.

“Pleasure is all mine, Sir,” you say, dipping your chin into a small bow.

“Come this way,” he beckons. You follow him.

“Did Lando ask you to pick me up?”

“Well, he insisted on picking you up but the race was about to start so we had to force him to stay put in the livery and he wouldn't stay put until we said we’ll pick you up. Said people might flock over you and you don't like it when it happens.”

Your heart warms.

“That's very thoughtful of him. And sweet.”

“That's Lando Norris for you,” he says. “He’s always treating all the people he’s working with kindly. He only has to be polite but he even exerts effort in helping and making our work easier.”

“That's true,” you agree. “I can attest to that, as his fake girlfriend. He only has to treat me well when there's a camera but he’s even going as far as offering friendship.”

The rest of the walk to McLaren was peaceful. Or at least as peaceful as you hope it can be.

#f1 x reader #formula 1 #formula one #f1 imagines #fluff #fanfic #lando norris x reader #lando norris #ln4 fic #ln4 #ln4 x reader #kpop idol! reader

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gh0stsp1d3r · 2 days

Text

ℳ𝒶𝓎𝒷𝒶𝓃𝓀𝓈 𝓈𝒾𝓈𝓉ℯ𝓇

Part 2, chapter 6- eviction notice

Series masterlist

Warnings- This one’s a lot more jj centered, but some rafe and reader moments (: two exes still pining for each other Is my favorite

Summary: you’re finally back home, the pogues missed you and Rafe can’t get over you

A knock on the door interrupted your nightly routine, you sighed, standing up and opening the door.

“Hi.” You said, a little shocked at Rafe’s appearance this late.

“Okay, so…” he pushed past you, sitting down on the bed, next to you. “we’re leaving tomorrow.”

“You mean… back to Kildare?” You asked him.

He nodded. “I- I already asked if you could use a phone, but, my dad doesn’t really trust you right now. But… I can…” he sighed. “I can see if I can try and email one of them or something.“

You nodded at him. He stood up, going to the door before you called his name.

“Rafe.”

“Yeah?” He turned to look at you.

“Thank you.”

A million thoughts ran through his mind as he walked back home. When he got there, he saw yellow tape on the door, along with an eviction notice. Going up with furrowed eyebrows, he held back tears.

“What?” He mumbled, confused. You told him that you were paying for it, that you were just staying at Ricky’s because you couldn’t bear to be at the house. Not because you lost it.

He looked on the back when he saw some marker bleed through, you had written on it.

“I’m sorry, JJ.” You scrawled out on it, he saw some tear stains on the paper as well. With a small sigh, tears threatening to spill, he entered through the window, grabbing the pills from the counter, sitting on the couch, and throwing them.

He ran his hands over his face, beginning to cry into them while taking a sip of the beer his dad had left.

He was outside, fixing his bike with Kiara came up behind.

“Eviction notice. For like, non payment or whatever. My sister didn’t even tell me.” He stood up, facing her now. He sighed, looking back at the house.

“Doesn’t matter. This place sucks anyway. Great to be back in the outer banks, right?”

“So get this. I uh, had an email waiting for me when I got home. John B actually found Big John. He’s alive..”

JJ paused, turning his head to Kiara now.

“Seriously?”

Kiara nodded. “Yeah. He’s at the Chateau.”

JJ smiled, standing up again. “Damn.”

“Yeah, he thinks we’re close to the same treasure Singh was talking about.”

JJ nodded, sniffling as he grabbed a towel.

“Hey, look. My parents didn’t even wanna let me out of the house. But I told them I had to come check on you.”

“Well, it’s not me you have to worry about.” He exhaled.

“JayJ, what’s up? Is it something Pope said? I know he’s not all obsessed about what happened between me and him. We’re both past that, but something’s bugging you. And it’s not just your sister.”

“It was just weird, what almost happened on the boat with us. It was just weird.” He said, inhaling.

“Yeah, Yeah, I mean it was… it was weird for me too, but… not bad weird.”

“No. Not bad weird.” He came closer to her, the both of them staring at each other.

“What are we doing?” He asked, heart picking up. “What are we doing? We shouldn’t be doing this, nah.” He repeated, moving his face away from hers, walking away. “We shouldn’t do that.”

“Yeah..”

“We shouldn’t!”

“If you say so.”

“I mean, it would like all blow up anyway. You know? Like…” he panted. “Look at you. You got your new threads on, look at me what do I got? This?” He pointed to the house. “This piece of shit?!” He picked up a rock, throwing it at the house.

“Getting kicked out of this place in like a week anyways. Shit, I don’t got parents right now, or my sister. Why would you care? Why would you care? I’m just some loser that- that-“ he stuttered.

“jj…”

“You don’t do care.”

“I do-“

“No, you don’t!”

“I do care!” She argued.

“No, you got parents that live in figure 8, you know? You know… you…”

“That’s not my fault.”

“That’s your future. You got that.” He walked away again, his hands on the back of his head.

“Look if you need us, we’re gonna help you. I’m… I’ll help.”

“It’s that right there! Okay? Like- it’s so easy for you to say that. You know why? Because you’re a kook. You’re a kook, Kiara!”

She nodded, looking down. “Yeah, I’m a kook. I was such a kook when I was living in a cave with you for a month. Soaking in the kook life.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about. God!” He threw on his hat, getting on his bike, and starting the engine.

“JayJ, don’t leave.”

He didn’t listen, just ran away. The only thing he knew how to do.

On the dock, he paced, staring out, even breaking it and throwing things down, kicking and throwing shit.

He paused, looking over you sleeping for a moment. You looked peaceful. He missed this. He would do anything if it meant he could have you so peaceful like that with him again.

It would take time, though. Even Rafe knew that.

“Rise and shine,” Rafe spoke, hitting your shoulder to wake you up.

You mumbled something incoherently, rubbing the sleep from your eyes and sitting up with a yawn.

When you opened your eyes, you had a small smile at the sight of the island. Finally.

His eyes were set on you, while you looked out at the island.

When you got to Tannyhill, you helped Rafe with the boat and went up the dock.

Rafe lead you to to the front, both of you standing in front of each other now.

“Thanks, again.” You told him, staring into his baby blue eyes.

“Yeah, yeah.” He waved it off.

“You know, Rafe, you could be a really good man when you try.” You told him when you began to walk away.

He rolled his eyes, a small smile gracing his features when you turned. “Whatever.”

But when you left, you spotted Sarah leaving as well.

“Sarah?” You questioned, making her turn to you.

She said your name, her tone confused and shocked.

“Holy shit, y/n?!” Kiara practically shouted when you came up on the boat with Sarah. You smiled at her, and she came up and embraced you.

“Hey, Kie.” You said with a laugh,

“I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean to push you off-“

“It’s fine. I know.” You shrugged.

“I went to go grab some clothes and a phone, and I found her, but…”

“Rafe is back.” You finished her sentence.”And the cross is coming back. To Wilmington tomorrow night. I heard him on the phone yesterday.”

“And I heard him not that long ago.”

“What?” She looked at Sarah and back at you.

“I was gonna tell Pope at the Chateau.”

“He can’t. He’s on lockdown.”

“Okay, um… then.. I’ll hit up Pope, and then maybe you go to the Chateau and tell John B. And JJ?”

Kiara swallowed at that.

“Wait, is he.. at the chateau?” You asked them.

Kiara shrugged. “I don’t know. He blew up on me earlier. He… uh.. was at the house.”

“Shit..” you murmured.

JJ pulled up to the Chateau, whistling for John B. You stood up, Kiara was inside, not wanting to intrude on you two.

“JJ.” You spoke quietly.

He turned around at the sound of your voice. He whispered your name, repeating it louder now as he came up to you.

He wrapped his arms around you, tears falling down his face.

“Holy shit. You’re- you’re-“

“Yeah.” You laughed, tears falling down your own face now.

“You didn’t tell me we got evicted. I would- I would have helped..” he told you, looking at your face now.

“I didn’t want you to. That’s why I didn’t tell you.” You shook your head feverishly. “I’m saving up for a better house, now.”

He smiled and shook his head again.

“I missed you so much, dude.” He said, pulling you in for another hug.

Kiara came out, waiting. He turned to Kiara now, clearing his throat and wiping his tears.

“Is uh… John B not here?” He asked with a sigh.

“Nope.”

Kiara cleared her throat, cutting through the awkward silence.

“What’s up?”

“Uh, Rafes what’s up.” Kiara spoke.

“He’s back on the island, JJ.” You continued her sentence. “He said he’s staying for a little, for business or some shit.”

“Spectacular.” He said sarcastically.

“It’s not just that. I overheard him saying the cross is coming into Wilmington tomorrow. Wards trying to sell it.” You said.

“Great. Does Pope know?”

“Yeah. Sarah went to tell him. He’s locked down.” Kiara told him. “And I guess John B and his dad went and got the Twinkie. They’re off to God knows where.” Kiara handed him the envelope.

“Yeah, of course. Just when we need them.” He threw his hands up, staring out into the water.

“Wait, hold on though.” He stopped, turning to you both now. “We know where the cross is gonna be. That means it’s still on the field. Okay, alright. So we can come in and swoop, we’re still in this. We gotta get everybody together, then we’ll come up with a plan. Get our asses to Wilmington.”

Kiara looked at you. You urged her as he walked away.

“Hey, hey, JJ, before we can formulate some crazy plan, can we talk?” Kiara spoke, catching up to him.

JJ took a deep breath, talking was never really his thing.

“Yeah. Yeah, we can talk.”

��Something almost happened. Between us on the boat.”

“Mmm-hmm..”

“And I know that’s got to freak you out. It caught me off guard too. And I know, your whole life, I know you freak when people get close, and I get it. I don’t blame you.”

He looked away, because he knew she was right.

“Just please don’t ever say that I don’t care about you. And you called me a kook…”

“Okay, well, hold on-“ he started.

“Which is lame.”

“I know. That was lame..”

“It was uncalled for. Yeah, it’s a low blow.”

“All right, Kie. Look, Kie,” he put his hands on her shoulders. “You’re right. I flipped. You know how I be. Just uh.. just… look. We should just… just call it a truce. Just.. etch a sketch it. Clean slate. Truce?”

“Truce.” She held her hand out.

“So, how we gonna jack this cross?” You came up to them suddenly, both of them jumping at you.

“Jesus! You just got back and you’re already trying to give me a heart attack?”

don’t like this chapter too much ugh

Tag list:

@cassie0sstuff @rafesgiirl @fals3-g0d @tiaamberxx @callsignwidow @saintnourah

#rafe cameron x reader #rafe outer banks #rafe cameron #rafe fluff #rafe x you #rafe fanfiction #obx series #jj obx #obx rafe cameron #rafe obx #obx x reader #obx fanfiction #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x female reader #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron series #rafe x reader #drew starkey x reader #dre

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whatthebodygraspsnot · 19 hours

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“I went to the gym, so I will be able to hold you up even longer” 🙌🏾🙌🏾🙌🏾

“I went to the gym, so I will be able to hold you up even longer” additional tags: (wrongly) assumed infidelity, miscommunication that gets resolved, this must be an au bc mickey would obv never interrupt his own sleep to leave the apartment

Mickey steps carefully into their apartment, taking great care to shut the door without being too loud. He closes it with barely a click. But nothing can prepare him for what happens next.

When Mickey turns, it’s like he’s stepped right into a 90s romantic drama, the single floor lamp clicking on to shine in a perfect spotlight, revealing where his husband is very much awake, and very much waiting for his return.

He’s sitting on the couch. Tucked up in his bathrobe and the most unimpressed frown.

“Fuck.”

“Who is he?”

Mickey glances from left to right. Behind himself. Looks at Ian again, his heart still pounding in his chest from the startle. “Who’s who?”

“Don’t gimme that.” And now Ian’s standing up, gathering his robe around himself as he prepares to fire off The Chin. “You disappear every night - yes, I noticed,” he states before Mickey can interrupt. “Bring a bag with you… Come home sweaty… I know you think you’re sneaky, but you’re fucking bad at hiding this, Mickey.”

It takes a second for everything to sink in. For the endorphins from the last couple hours to start pumping upward into his brain this time.

And… Damn.

Ian caught him.

To be perfectly honest, Mickey thought he was getting away with this shit - was being real cagey and everything too - even getting a shower in before sliding back into bed with him.

“Two hours. That enough to meet up with him and do what you gotta do?”

Meet up with who? Yeah right. “You think I can get somebody out at this hour?” Mickey asks, his confusion starting to put him on edge. “Been doing this shit all on my own. Well-... I mean ‘cept for the other handful of guys who show up sometimes…”

And the way Ian’s eyebrows rise is almost as startling as how he stops in his tracks, repeating the words back to him with dragged out intensity. “‘Handful of guys’...?”

It’s got Mickey slugging his bag off his shoulder, the dramatics of it all really killing his high. “Christ, Ian. What’re you bein’ so bitchy for-”

“What am I being bitchy for.” There he goes again, repeating shit. Like he can’t believe what he’s hearing. “Mickey are you fucking serious?”

“Yeah - what - I was doin’ this shit for you, anyway. Thought you’d at least be excited about it.”

Oh. Fuck. Ian does not like that. “Excited?” Off comes the robe, in a flurry of angry movements. He’s running hot, and not in a good way. “Why the fuck would I be excited about my husband cheating on me!”

And it’s-...

He’s-...

Wait a second.

“What?”

“You thought you could go out every night and meet up with a ‘handful of guys’ and I’d be jumping for joy?” He sure is using air quotes like he’s having a good time with it, but no no no-

“What the-...” Mickey shakes his head, trying to clear the air because holy fuck, “I ain’t fuckin’ cheating on you, Ian - the hell?”

“You just said-”

“Christ, you think I’m out bangin’ other dudes?”

“Wuh-...! You-...!”

Mickey rubs a hand over his mouth, everything suddenly making a whole lot of sense. The dramatics. The theater of it all. Ian was catching him coming home from the act, but ‘the act’ ended up being two very different things in their respective heads.

“Holy shit,” Mickey breathes out, going for his bag so he can put that thought immediately out of Ian’s head. “Look.”

He tugs the zipper open. Starts dumping out its contents on the floor right between them - his gym shoes - his old-ass iPod - a workout shirt - socks that stink so bad that they’re all he really needed to avoid all this. One whiff would’ve immediately made things clear.

But it’s enough now. Ian is slowly putting all the pieces together, the worry in his brow evening out and his chin returning to normal pointedness. Finally.

“You…” you says, hope returning. “You’ve been…going to the gym…?”

Mickey gestures to the pile of clothes in between them, his tone evening into something honest. “Yeah, man. Thought you wouldn’t notice once you knocked out…”

Ian eyes over everything one more time. Then slowly, his lips pull into a small pout, those eyes flicking away. “I notice every time you’re not in bed.” ‘Bitch.’ He wants to add it so bad. Mickey can practically see it trying to break through.

But he doesn’t. And there’s something so sheepish and honest and vulnerable about it, that Mickey can’t help but smile, peace returning as he stuffs his clothes and shoes back into his bag. “Fuck would I ever cheat on you for, ya dummy?”

A beat passes. Thoughts lingering. “I dunno… I just thought-...”

“Well stop.” It sure makes a lot of sense, though. Now that he sees it through that lens. Fuck, he’d probably think the same thing if their roles were switched. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to getchya all riled up…”

“S’okay…” Ian watches as Mickey gets himself sorted. Still has a lot of questions trying to get out - he can tell. And it starts with this one. “What do you mean you were doing this for me?”

It’s the correct one - right away. And Mickey’s glad he asked, actually. Because if he must know…

The floorboards creak beneath his shoes as he steps up into Ian’s space, his muscles warmed up and ready enough to finally show off his skills.

And when he does it - when he wrangles his giant-ass husband in and hauls him up until he's got those thick thighs straddling his waist, Ian’s startle and wide eyes say it all as Mickey slots him up against the wall - all two hundred pounds - keeping him held up in his arms.

“Been goin’ to the gym so I can lift ya,” he preens, impressed with his own strength.

Because he’s been working for this moment. For the look of sheer shock in Ian’s eyes from the rush of it - how it simmers into delight and pride and something much, much steamier the longer he holds him up.

And damn, that little breathy, impressed laugh that huffs out between them. “Fuck, Mick…”

Oh yeah. This is what all that 2am weightlifting has been for.

“You like that, huh?” Mickey grins, the atmosphere shifting familiar and fun - heavy in a good way. “This do it for ya?”

From his arms, Ian nods, his bottom lip caught between his teeth as he takes a second to eat Mickey up with his eyes, those big arms wrapping around the back of his neck.

He probably thought he was doing a decent job at hiding how hot he gets with this - when Mickey can make him feel small and moveable.

They’re both absolute dogshit at keeping secrets, it turns out.

[ send me a smutty one-liner ]

#gallavich #ray writes #smutty one-liners

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snakeoid · 4 months

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my take on pre spawn astarion bc its been scraping at the walls of my brain forever now. dont let his round eyes fool you, you are not getting probation

#bg3 #astarion #i was torn between dark brown hair and leaving it white. what if light x8 brown or something #and not skinny. or as skinny #i think he was still a piece of shit but not all bad. but still a cunt.#eye contact

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shima-draws · 5 months

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Slamming my head against the wall god fucking DAMMIT I'm so in love with Sanlu I am GOING to explode.

#One Piece #Sanlu #Sanji #Luffy #IDK WHAT IT IS!! IDK!!!!#Still love Zolu with all my heart but oh my GOD Sanlu. They are everything.#I might be reading too many fics bc it really feels like a fanon thing that Sanji's actually like #Really insecure and has low self-esteem #OR MAYBE THAT'S CANON IDK!!#But hnghhh Luffy being the one to be like. Hey I like you for you and not for your past #And I love everything about you and that's a FACT and not a lie and I want to keep you with me forever #AND I WILL NEVER REPLACE YOU WITH ANYBODY ELSE. YOU ARE MY COOK AND I DON'T EVER WANT ANOTHER #And Sanji craving affection and validation and praise SO bad that whenever Luffy gives it to him he wants to cry #BASHES MY HEAD INTO A TABLE AUUGHGHGHG SHUT UP!!!!!#MAYBE THAT'S FANON SANLU BUT YOU KNOW WHAT. I DON'T CARE IT'S SO GOOD #SLURPS THAT SHIT UP #Sanji especially feeling that he's not worthy enough for Luffy and thinking it'd be impossible to have him #So when Luffy actually does reciprocate he's in SHOCK bc how. How could Luffy pick HIM of all people #Cut to Sanji feeling like the LUCKIEST motherfucker on the planet bc he gets to have Luffy. SCORE.#Luffy blowing away all of his insecurities and anxieties and worry just by being himself and being so #STUPIDLY in love with him is just #HOLLERS AND SMACKS THE TABLE REPEATEDLY #ALSO IT DOESN'T HELP THAT OPLA MADE IT SO BLATANTLY OBVIOUS TOO #Luffy complimented his cooking one (1) time #And Sanji was like okay yup packing my bags for the Merry as we speak #When he smiles and looks a little flustered at Luffy's attention.#Oh my fucking god. Strangling myself.#THEY ARE EVERYTHING!!!#Shima speaks

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hamable · 7 months

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Need low stakes DLC Psychonauts 2 levels in, at this point, anyone’s mind. Fuck shit up and kick ass in the interns brains? Hell yeah. Otto? Sasha round 2? Milla round 2? ANY Aquato? I’d eat it up om nom nom. I’m begging. As a treat for me please.

#psychonauts 2 #psychonauts #double fine #and listen. fucking. it gets more and more obvious that Otto has Something going on with every playthrough #first play through I was thinking about literally anything else and I didn’t catch it #but going back and doing all the dialogue and keeping an eye on him?#Otto was sus as HELL #Like fully unresolved I think canonically he’s still up to some shit #he didnt mind wipe a family to stop a genocide a la putting tape over a cracking dam #but he’s still shady #and I think they kinda wrote him as a red herring #which is wild bc I did not give a fuck about Otto my first time through I was trying to connect so many other puzzle pieces #but yeah DLC content would be good but also… Psychonauts three???#it’s be too surface level for it to be just straight plot line Otto is the big bad tho so idk.#psychonauts 1+2 tells such a tight well thought out story that’s been cooking for two decades. I wouldn’t want a third game if it didn’t #lovingly expand the world and characters and story. but damn I got questions.#hence: low stakes dlc please and thank you have a good day 👍

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orcelito · 2 months

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I think I cried harder today over my dad's jackets than I did at his deathbed. That was a miserable time of course, a memory that will likely be seared into my brain until I die, but I cried... I think a normal amount, all things considered. More than I ever usually do of course, but I typically don't cry At All. All this free crying is certainly surreal.

The jackets, though. I was put in charge of doing his laundry, because we don't want to pack up dirty clothes. I was expecting it to be unpleasant bc my dad's dirty clothes - gross. But really, it was much more unpleasant in that... those were his. It felt wrong to touch them. Felt wrong to treat his jackets as gross. Because they were just his jackets. They weren't even in the hamper. And then I was remembering him wearing them, and then I was crying. Again. And again. Weeping over these damn jackets.

Then I found a shirt on his bed that still smelled like him. It smelled like a Hug From Dad. And that set me off crying even harder.

In total, I think I cried like 6 times within 40 minutes. It took me that long to finish sorting the damn clothes bc I just. Was a wreck. Like, what are you supposed to do when you're living life like normal, vaguely hopeful bc you're taking steps to secure your own happiness, and then 4 days later you're sorting your dad's laundry because he fucking died. Suddenly. Without a goodbye.

And you have to worry about his lack of a will (even under an ideal situation, only 2 heirs and no conflicts between us, probate's a fucking Bitch), and arranging the funeral, and prepping his obituary, and picking out pictures, and writing a speech bc you want to talk at his funeral, of Course you want to talk at his funeral, but even just thinking about anecdotes you could share has you crying yet again.

I've cried more times in the past 3 days than likely the entirety of last YEAR. And that's WITH my cat, and uncle, and family friend dying. Those all hurt, my uncle most of all, & I was real fucked up over it. But this? This was my Dad. Likely the person I'd have named 2nd closest to me in my life, second only to my sister. He wasn't perfect, but he did so much for me throughout my entire life. All he wanted was to raise us to be happy and independent. And he accomplished it, we're getting by without him, but we still wanted several more decades with him. He was only 57. We should've gotten several more decades with him.

But here we are now. Playing investigators to his life, digging into all his shit, trying to find documents and take inventory of all his things, and learning Many things about him in the process. In his lockbox of sensitive documents, like his SSN and birth certificate and all that stuff, we found an old letter. About a decade old now, written in my hand. Right at the very top, we found that he'd kept the letter I wrote to him telling him frankly about my struggles and the things I wanted him to do better. He kept it. He tried to take it to heart. He looked at it again, sometime more recently than all the rest of the documents. That was on top.

His love for us is evident everywhere. The pictures he has hanging up all over the place, majority of them with us in them. The old fathers day cards placed on display in his bedroom bookshelf. The gifts we gave him, even stupid little knick knacks, placed around his apartment with pride. I wish we'd taken more videos of him. I don't want to forget the sound of his voice. I don't want to forget his smell either, the smell of a Hug From Dad, but I still tossed that shirt into the wash even though it felt like saying yet another goodbye.

It's the suddenness that hurts the most, I think. We were planning on having him help me finally get my license this year. My final words to him, the last thing he would've seen from me, were messages asking up on whether he'd called his car insurance company to make sure there wouldn't be problems. I should've called him more. I don't know if I'm going to learn from this.

I cut my 2 weeks off early to have time to grieve and to work on things for the funeral and settling the estate. The last thing I'd wanna do right now is selling fucking bubble tea in a job I already decided to leave. So here I am without a job, though with potentially two life insurance policy payouts to come. Inheriting half his 401k. Inheriting couches, knickknacks, keepsakes, paintings, art pieces, maybe even his guitar and other furniture if we can figure out what to do about space (I don't have room for this furniture, I don't know if I even have room for the couches, but God do I want to keep so much of this furniture). It has me even considering keeping one of his guns, just one. A tiny little revolver, it sits so comfortably in my hand. I don't even want to use it for anything. I just want to have it, keep it stored in a drawer with its ammo kept separate. I don't like guns, but this is a part of him. He loved collecting guns. He was about as responsible with them as someone can be, keeping them locked in a lockbox and impressing upon his children the importance of gun safety (I've known the basic gun safety rules ever since I was a little kid. Of course, of course, of course.) It reminds me of him. It's horrifically easy to have a gun in Indiana. I apparently don't even need a permit to carry anymore. (I have no intention to ever carry this in public.)

It's all a cycle. Business, grief, thoughts about my future. Round and round, like the most nauseating carousel in existence. I don't know how I'm still so functional. My skills with compartmentalization have been my lifesaver.

And im just thinking about the story my dad's best friend shared today. About a friend of theirs who lost her father. She reached out after hearing about my dad to share his words with her: "it's okay to grieve, but don't make his death your life".

He explicitly referenced himself in this, saying if he were to die suddenly that he wouldn't want us to define ourselves by it. Grief is expected, but he wants us to be able to move on. He's always wanted us to establish ourselves and make ourselves happy. He wouldn't want to be a weight holding us back from that.

So every time I start to feel guilty for thinking about having nicer furniture or using his life insurance payout to fund the rest of my college, I remind myself of that. Thinking about the material isn't a bad thing. I'm only human. And in the end, he'd Want me to be thinking about it. He never intended to die, certainly not without warning like this, so he would've only encouraged me being pragmatic about it all.

He only ever wanted us to be happy. So I need to do what I can to live up to that.

I love him. I miss him already.

#speculation nation #negative/#this got really long on accident. but i think typing this out was really helpful for me.#getting the thoughts out. processing. the works.#nearly cried several times just from writing this.#...and honestly i might reference this again when i start seriously writing my eulogy.#things suck a Lot right now. and i really wish they were different.#feels like i picked a bad choice in a video game and am now seeing the Bad Ending or whatever #all i need to do is reload a previous save. it's all still there. perfectly preserved in my memories.#but... that's all gone. as suddenly and unfair as it is ive been thrust into a new chapter of my life so thoroughly.#it's not all bad though. he wasnt prepared for dying so it's been hell to prepare for him #we dont know if we'll even be able to get into his fucking iphone. stupid piece of shit.#but he had life insurance. he had a union job. and That comes with benefits #(something about a year's salary going to the family. aka half a year's salary to Me. and isnt That mind boggling.)#as much as it hurts im going to be realistic about it. im going to do what i need to finish my education.#and im going to use it as a springboard for finally becoming a 'proper adult'.#the kind who could own a nice kitchen fridge. one with an ice machine on the front of the door #and freezers in the drawers.#maybe then i could think about getting motorcyle lessons. not from my dad as i originally wanted #but i wanna keep the family biker spirit alive. i wanted it even before he died. and now i want it even more.#ive had so so many thoughts. it's only been 3 days. ive had to emotionally numb myself several times just to Get Through It.#everything is exacerbated. my mom wants to go to the funeral. we will have to fight her on this. my dad Hated her.#and i certainly dont fucking want her around either. not then. not when im talking about my dad.#(my dad. my Dad. i saw him die. i felt him cold. i do not regret it. it still hurts me.)#it's overwhelming. i loved him so fucking much. even with his flaws he was truly an amazing father.#i'll... shut up now. if you read this far. well. hug your loved ones a little tighter. you never know when youll lose them.

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