#person i love is gone. at least one of them has to survive cause i genuinely don't see the point in living if they aren't here
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im new to the fandom, so I miss a lot of the discourse (helped ofc by the fact you're kinda the only dp blog I follow), so everytime you mention the s4 backlash I'm like....how in the world could people hate that season or rayllum in it? It doesn't compute for me!
The last ship I was particularly engaged with, has a lot of similarities with rayllum. They were best friends, life partners before they were ever /romantic/ life partners. And they went through a /lot/ of trauma, miscommunication, and being on opposite sides of the same fight, etc etc.
the difference to rayllum was that they never rlly gave each other the grace they need. They also never talked on screen, but unlike rayllum it wasn't because it was the best option for them, it's just that the writers didn't want to include it ever - to the point that when they finally did an episode addressing it, it landed...very flat? Because it was about six seasons in, addressing things as far back as the second season, that they'd apparently never spoken to each other about before (they were tragically engaged when this happened).
Rayllum GENERALLY but especially in s4 have a really special place in my heart, because they feel very realistically messy - but it doesn't feel like it's there so there's some drama to keep audiences hooked. It feels authentic, and is one of those rare cases where it strengthens their relationship. I definitely could buy that rayllum would survive anything that hit their relationship by the end of s3, but getting to actually SEE that and see how much they're willing to work through out of love and respect for each other? Fantastic.
(also like it's such good character development....i am with u in the s4 defense squad. is there a squad? If there is I'm in it)
First off welcome to the fandom and I hope you're having a good time!!
The fact that my blog is mostly discourse free cause while I tag accordingly (fandom nonsense and dragons gets salty for potential blacklisting purposes) I always worry I can dip too far into that on occasion (I do my best not to unless being called out by name, and even then mostly do my best to ignore stuff), but there's not too much discourse within TDP in general — at least not in the Rayllum corner, luckily.
I think that's why the S4 backlash really surprised and threw me for a loop, because my partner and I finished the season at like 7AM on release day and while different than expected, we loved it and thought it was great from the start. Then we went online and people in the fandom who I'd largely always agreed with were having a really hard time with the season and it was disheartening at least to not have many people to talk to about why 1) S4 is TDP's thematically strongest season thus far and that's still true, 2) it's Ezran's best season imo, and 3) it does a lot of things really really well in really interesting ways.
I always try to never come down Too Hard on the s4 backlash just because people are of course entitled to their feelings/opinions then as well as now (even if some people's tunes have definitely changed), but a lot of it did feel sometimes short sighted if not immature.
Like soo many people are still mad that Rayla and Callum broke up in an offscreen graphic novel, when S4 would still be S4 regardless of whether TTM existed and like... if Rayla worrying that she failed (again) and went off on her own (again) to protect Callum was a big logical leap, then that person honestly just wasn't paying attention; there's not much else to say there. I also think it's just a strange choice to assume that Nothing Major would change the second you find out about a timeskip; like, almost everything else is status quo, Rayla being gone is the One Major Change and people couldn't handle that being a Surprise?
Like you said, conflict between a couple is not inherently a bad thing; it can be good and interesting, and this was always a relationship hurdle I think a lot of Rayllums (myself included) expected Rayla and Callum to have to tackle. Not liking how extreme or 'dramatic' it was (ie. season long arc > just a few episodes, or Rayla leaving > just trying to leave) is fair enough, but given that it's rooted in so much of Rayla's character, I'd much rather take a long way around approach that's in depth. I'm also just Glad and Grateful that the show is tackling it and treating it like the issue it is rather than sweeping things under the rug.
The fact that Callum's version of anger wasn't the one people wanted is another issue, but again — his anger went the way I'd always thought it might if he just went through enough trauma, and even if he had yelled at her, I don't think the season would've necessarily gone any different than it did other than them crying more early on. Which I've written and wouldn't have minded, but I also don't dislike the alternative route canon took — of course they were never going to get all variations out there, but Callum is cold as hell and being a bit of a jerk while also being valid and tempering himself because he doesn't want to hurt her anymore than she wants to hurt him (and Callum has always been very very bad at being/staying mad with Rayla or Ezran anyway).
I saw a lot of pushback against Rayllum being 'platonic' (which was annoying as an aromantic person lemme tell you, as though platonic is lesser), being "broken up for no reason" (Rayla being hyper-independent was not a secret and always going to be what threatened to rip them apart; they are also still Visibly and Repeatedly In Love with each other how is that broken up), or that they didn't get to have a Big Feelings Time in S4.
With that in mind, there's a lot that also matters in a relationship beyond just Open Communication, tbh. There's going to be times in life where you're not able to or unwilling to talk about certain things (given that S4 is maybe a week, I think that's reasonable; especially when Rayllum still haven't talked to each other about it as of s5 and no one I saw have an issue in S4 about it has complained about it there) and like... how do you treat each other when you're still mad or confused and haven't talked everything out? Do you still take care of each other, are you still doing your best to be considerate of each other (even if you're also not going to be perfect)? That shit matters just as much if not more as people able to sit down and hash things out.
I think the truth is a lot of the things that pissed people off about S4 would've been true even if the opposite things had happened:
N'than is flat and under developed unlike Ellis → N'than is more developed → why is N'than taking away from screentime for other characters?
The Sunfire plotline feels disconnected from the rest of the story (nvm that Viren's arc from 1x06 onwards doesn't affect any main character again until 3x04) → the Sunfire plot line has more connections to the main cast crammed in → more complaints about pacing and things feeling overly stuffed, as scenes already change from one to the next quite clearly
Callum and Rayla have a big talk sometime between 4x03-4x07 → this doesn't give Callum enough time to be angry / makes him seem unreasonable because he's admitted he was mostly worried but is still not fully letting her in despite her spilling her guts to him (and in what world would Rayla give excuses, again, when she knows he's the one hurting and taking priority in her mind)
S4's humor was bad because there were fart jokes (in one episode) → the crowlord's joke is so much worse than the fart jokes imo and is on par with the walnut joke in 1x06. also 1-2 scenes with jokes that didn't work for you out of 9 whole ass episodes is like. you're just a wuss i'm sorry
The Sunfire plot line is boring → will never not feel like "I just can't connect or be interested in politics and religious disagreements when it's mostly about Black people for Some Reason (racism)" to me tbh
There was no way to please everyone especially after a three year hiatus (because people think, For Some Reason, that how much time it takes for a story to come out should change how that story is written and it really, really doesn't) but yeah. The internet showed their asses and I was Not Impressed lmao
TLDR; a lot of the S4 backlash was "I'm mad this isn't happening now and I'm stressed out/worried that it won't be" as opposed to "this is only a problem if it never happens at all, but I have faith that it will," and I will love S4 forever. The Callum-Viren parallels being ramped up, the theme of duality and moving "doing terrible things for love" to the forefront with multiple characters (Rayla, Terry, Viren, Claudia), seeing Ezran step into his role as king, Callum's arc being shown > told, the set up for the possession plot line, Janaya's engagement and relationship development + Amaya and Janai's independent arcs? Chef's kiss. S4 is my best friend and its Rayllum dynamic is on par with S3 for me, and I am very grateful the fandom's attitude towards s4 and s4 Rayllum is a lot warmer / more reasonable now
When Callum says "unconditionally" in 5x01 and all their stuff in S5 we know and believe it because we've seen them fight and work so hard to come back from some pretty terrible brinks in imperfect ways, and I'll always love s4 for that. The most aspec Rayllum season by far
#thanks for asking#anonymous#also feel free to come off anon and message me if you'd like! i promise i don't bite and that i am a loser (affectionate)#long post#s4 is my best friend#s4#arc 2#which is saying something bc s2 and s1 rayllum is also SO GOOD#like it never has to be anyone's favourite by any measure. but it is just NOT a bad season or handling of the characters#it's just not
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zombie apocalypse is the worst saddest just straight up worst not it thing to happen in sci fi movie. if that happened irl bye. BYE. either my loved ones make it through it WITH me or like it is done cause if i am the only one who is surviving?? because of whatever reason if im the only one surviving?? what is the point what is the fucking point
#i just watched one of my fav youtubers watch train to busan that movie is so hell#but fr like if everybody i love dies in the apocalypse#okay *live for your dreams* or wtv lets get logical for a moment.#for the world to recover from that and for life to start again it will take years and i dont think im making it through if every single per#person i love is gone. at least one of them has to survive cause i genuinely don't see the point in living if they aren't here#the ONLY scenario that makes sense to me is either everybody or at least one person i love and i survive OR#i sacrfice myself and someone i love survives#if neither of those things happens best believe i will sacrifice myself for people who still have their family & friends to take care of#like that couple w the pregnant lady in train to busan oh mygod i would have made sure that man lived he was such a gem of a human
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Bagi and Richas talk about Jaiden (28/02/2024)
"B: Richinhas, we have one problem only... How many months has it been since that explosion on purgatory?
B: When you went to get your dad Cellbit, your aunt Baghera, what was the situation there in purgatory?
R: Explosion? 0_0 OOOHHH THAT ONE, YES
B: There on egg island
B: For me it was a purgatory, you know how it is
R: So, they were all fucked, mom kkkkkkkkkk
B: It's because, for many months now Empanada has been wating for one of her moms to come back from there
B: And I thought that she would at least come back with Cellbit and Baghera
R: Made me think I should have gone there sooner
R: OHH
R: Who? 0_0
B: Come here Richinhas
B: Did you maybe (points at a sign with Jaiden's name) saw this person there, when you went... you know?
B: Richinhas
R: Mom 0_0 hmmm
B: Oh Richinhas... Oh noo I made you sad too, come here son (open arms for a hug) Come here, come here (hugs)
B: Didn't want to make you sad, I... I just brought up this subject because it has been a very long time that Empanada has been waiting for her and I don't know if she survived
R: kkkkkkkk Not exactly sad, mom
B: I don't know if she survived son!
B: How will I tell this story to Empanada, she has been waiting for months
R: It's just
R: How do I explain kkkkkk
R: Hmmm also you made remembered me that I need to do something mom
R: Anyway, aunt Jaiden, you met her right mom?
B: I did met her, Richinhas, I did
B: I liked her wings, even though I thought she was too friendly with Cucurucho
B: That's why I thought it was weird for her to not come back with Cucurucho or something if she had gotten stuck there
R: I think if it was ON PURGATORY kkkkkk
R: Considering the state dad Cellbit was in, you maybe didn't get to met THE aunt Jaiden
B: No, I met her before all this, I met her before all the tragedy
B: I met her at the time she was friendly with Cucurucho and led a kind of normal life, she lived at that village, the girl village where Jaiden, Tina and Mouse lived, I think
R: And even I, only saw aunt Jaiden once
R: And I say that... let's say there were 2 aunt Jaidens
R: The aunt Jaiden that lost Bobby and the aunt Jaiden that left grief behind just a little bit
R: That aunt Jaiden, I only saw her once
R: And... I will miss her, you know mom? kkkkkkk
R: You know when the things that made you remember what was important for you, they look like they go away little by little
R: And you just forget
R: It's very scary
B: Ah, son
B: I know it's scary
B: The time passage everyday is scary
B: Getting older is scary
B: To see time pass and watch some people not coming back is scary
R: But aunt Jaiden won't come back
B: None of them right?
R: One of them I think died some time ago
R: And then, those 2 were left
R: But those 2 too... I guess they went away then
R: I won't do that, neither will Pom, or dad Cellbit, or aunt Baghera, but if you need to tell Empanada, promise me that all the dreams she had of one day being loved like Bobby by aunt Jaiden, keep them alive, alright? >:D kkkkkk
B: Oh go Richarlyson, everytime you break your mom by making me cry
R: Cause I have an impression that would be... I mean, that wouldn't be true kkkkkk but love is kind of unconditional
R: Like a friend would say, and well, pa Roier kkkkkk
B: Yeah
B: I'm aware their love is unconditional
R: Em will probably get very lost
R: No mom, not that 0_0
B: Oh okay! I was thinking of other side
R: But, pa Roier loves Pepito too right?
B: Of course, of course, I get what you meant
B: It's a thing I had to explain a lot to Empanada that just because Jaiden had an egg before, she wouldn't be capable of loving her
B: Because each person lives on a different place of our heart
R: Maybe she will never understand mom kkkkkk
B: I know
R: Everyday I see Pepito and I feel Pepito also thinks that sometimes, you know? But that's what pa Roier is there for, to smile and to assure Pepito that Pepito is important too
R: Then on Em's and aunt Jaiden's case... It looks like it was all a evil thing from the federation
R: But she is already gone 0_0 has been for a long time
B: Wow son, so young and you already deal with so many complex feelings so well
B: Better than me
R: Nahh
R: I don't talk, but I'm here to tell you mom 0_0
R: Above everything, just keep Em happy, ok? >:D kkkkkkkkk
B: Of course
R: Your love counts for 7 loves kkkkk
B: Hey and you, occupy the other half of my heart alright? You too
B: I take care of her and I take care of you too
B: I know you have a lot of dads but you have your mom too"
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Just out of curiosity, would or has angel ever brought it up? The inevitability of them dying that is. I feel like its easy to guess that they’d try and set some sort of plan for the toys survival even when they’re long gone.
And idk i find that bitterly sweet. And maybe slightly morbid. That even after death they’d still worry over their little family. And to be honest I’d say it’s reasonable to think that Angel would be worried over that possibility too.
Gosh that’s a whole other form of love that gets me sad ToT the fact a person cares that much for you that they’re worried and want to do something at least to make their loved ones lives easier even when they’re gone.
Anyhow that’s gonna be one awkward talk. But probably one out of genuine fear and worry.
yeah, it's kinda sad to think about, but the toys know deep down that y/n isn't going to live forever. they really don't want to think about it.
but y/n does have a plan, or at least something like it. maybe they set up their will so that poppy, being the only one with a "human" name, is the inheritor of the house and land. or maybe y/n makes a deal to give protected nature reserve/historical buliding status to their property (cause the house is over 100 years old or something). idk, some way of ensuring the toys get to keep their home without being bothered.
i think y/n would leave a booklet of written instructions on how to operate certain house systems; how to fix the electricity, how to fix and operate the generator, how to fix plumbing, how to store food in the cellar, how to prepare food (a few cookbooks), and who to call for emergency food delivery. maybe y/n would become friends with the folks at the nearest grocery store and set up a plan for them to deliver food to the house, and to receive payment in an envelope while y/n isn't there.
they toys will have to learn to live without them, but their angel won't leave them without a little help.
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i'll dry the villain's tears pt.2
you get reincarnated into a role that became the breaking point of the villain's story and you, be it an unwillingness to cause them harm or a desire to survive, must work hard to make sure they grow into a better (or at least safer) person.
all entries are meant to be read as platonic. all are meant to be taken place in the TWST universe accurate to the game.
It was a very strange feeling, being immortal. Within the blink of your eyes, decades had past and you still didn't know why you were brought to this desert world and why you were granted a second chance at life. Your memory is broken and fading, yesterdays felt like years and years felt like yesterdays. Very few things mattered enough anymore for you to remember. All you can piece together is the distant, far off memory of waking up from what felt like a long nap and falling into the arms of a man clothed in rags.
He's dead now. Has been for a long time.
But now, you serve his family - his descendants. The shackles that once bound you were broken off centuries ago but... Something was telling you to stay, to wait. You were needed here. You didn't know how long you would have to wait but nothing could pull you from your course. Nothing.
It wasn't until the birth of Kalim Al-Asim that you remembered. Everything came rushing back, flooding your mind's eyes with visions of blot and tears as the palace erupted into cheers and praises, everyone around you eager to celebrate the good news. The birth of this child would surely be a blessing to everyone around him.
Except..
for Jamil Viper.
You had to find him.
For the first few months, you practically tore up the palace, ignoring the cries and complaints of the servants and guests in your pursuits, claiming you mad behind their hidden mouths and jeering tongues.
"Why are they searching so hard for a servant boy?"
"Our blessed and loved Kalim Al-Asim has been born! Why wouldn't they want to shower him in their blessings?"
"Surely this dijinn has gone mad with age!"
You ignored the servants and their trite giggling over meaningless chores. Your cause was greater then their own.
It wasn't until several months later that you found him. In the arms of his mother and father, you found the child that would curse the name of his brother in near everything but blood and nearly wept in pity. You clutched your fist, ignoring the whispers and the gawking of the palace servants and guards as you knelt down and pressed your lips to the child's palm, smiling as the innocent child giggled at you. It knew nothing of the future it would've been granted if they didn't have a friend like you.
"Don't worry, child, your life will be a happy one."
"Watch where you're swinging that thing! You nearly smacked the intern's head clean off!!"
Was that why you were seeing stars?
You stumbled for a second, nearly dragging a boom mic down with you as your legs tried to catch your near dead weight. The man carrying the wooden beam didn't even apologize as he carried on with what he was doing. In fact, nobody really seemed to care after they knew you weren't knocked out cold on the floor, knowing they just dodged a lengthy worker's comp.
"Yeah... thanks guys. Really feeling the teamwork," you grumbled, blinking past the tears. Where were you anyways?
Wait, that was strange. Why couldn't you remember anything? You remembered important details like what car you owned, where you lived, how to drive a car, but your past, your name, everything was gone like a balloon just popped between your ears.
"Ugh, maybe I do need to get myself that worker's compensation," You grumbled, rubbing your palm against your forehead, "Everything's coming out all topsy-turvy..."
Your thoughts were quickly interrupted by a loud smack against your back, nearly sending you reeling back into the boom mic's loving arms. "Hey, intern! The star needs something to wake him up, go get a drink from the cafe downstairs. You know what he likes, right?"
You spluttered as the burly man, obviously your boss, shoved a credit card into your hand and walked off back on set, not even giving you the chance to open your mouth to respond. You bit back a scowl, choosing instead to pocket the card and noiselessly stomp out of the recording studio, silently cursing your luck.
It continued all the to the cafe where you realized, hey, you really don't remember what ''the star'' liked in caffeinated beverages. The barista, equally as tired as you, watched in workplace related misery as you fumbled for ideas.
"Uh... hey," You tried reading their name tag, "Mim? What's the most popular drink you got here? I'll have one of those?"
"One java-chipped cappuccino coming right up~"
You pulled out one of the chairs at a table and sat yourself down while you waited and tried to piece together what exactly had happened to you. You were an intern, you could recall, barely scraping by in the big city with dreams of being film crew. You had graduated college with high grades, nothing to sniff at, but you had chosen to intern at this particular business for some reason. You pinched your brows but the more you thought about it, the more annoyed you got. The sound of your name being called was just the wake up call you needed.
The barista handed your drink before centering their gaze to your chest. You followed their gaze and found their eyes linked with the nametag laced around your neck as you ran the credit card to pay.
"Wow," they tapped their nail against the counter, "You're working with the Vil Schoenheit? That must be pretty crazy."
You let out a loud squawk in shock as memories came flooding back, accidentally sending the coffee half way across the counter and on to the floor, the foam and drink dripping all over the freshly wiped down tile. Your arm remained high in the air as you both looked at the mess you had made.
"I'll... um... can you hand me some napkins?"
#twisted wonderland x reader#twisted wonderland reader#isekai#vil shoenheit#jamil viper#reader insert#twisted wonderland
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little bit in love with you ~ landoscar
"Oscar is just stringing you along for his own entertainment,”Lando’s lips tighten into a straight line, the muscles in his cheeks rippling as he sucks them in to chew on the insides. “It’s not for entertainment. Oscar’s quiet, blushy and stupidly inexperienced. He-,” He wants to go on about all the distinctively ‘obvious’ signs that Oscar does genuinely like him in that way. He could go on and on about the younger boy’s huge brown eyes, the ones that show just about every bit of vulnerability possible. It’s not that Oscar doesn’t like him at all, he just didn’t seem to know how to express it.Yet, the way Max’ face twitches as he keeps going is enough to shut him up.
warnings- drinking | wc: 7,920
“You know Oscar likes Logan, right?” Max’s arm drapes across Lando’s back, his hand idly rubbing against the thin material of his sport shirt. It’s a Monday night and they both have flights to the next grand prix at around midday tomorrow. But right now, work and racing was the least of their concerns. It’s been a shit weekend for them both, which means retreating to one of their rooms, (usually Max’s since Checo usually clears out to spend time with Carola and the kids instead of at the hotel), and playing video games until their eyes burn with exhaust.
Lando does know that, the mere thought of it never fails to make his stomach twist up in discomfort, because he knows it is true, he just wishes it wasn’t. “Yeah, thanks Max,” He rolls his eyes, brushing the comment off like it doesn’t hurt him. Max’ a sensitive person, garnering a surprising talent for gauging emotions and how to be cautious to not hurt someone. Seemingly that has gone out of the window for the night.
Max gives him a weak shrug in reply, near ignorant. “ Lando , you know why I’m telling you that,”
He does, he just doesn’t want to hear it.
“Yeah, you could be less blunt about it though,” Lando’s shameful about how sensitive and ‘babyish’ he was, it being one of the more embarrassing parts of himself. He’ll always try to put on a ‘tough’ face to the media, pretending that he’s completely unaffected by absolutely anything. Yet, he never even tried to ‘be strong’ around Max- having cried too many times to the dutch man to even attempt to.
Another shrug, even less emotion or empathy in this one. “It’ll take a miracle for you to accept that the way you feel for Oscar is unreciprocated. I’m trying to get it through your thick skull before you get any more hurt then you already are,”
Ouch.
Usually Max is the nicer of the two, even possibly just the nicest guy in general. Get a few drops of alcohol into his system though and he’s painfully honest, mean when it comes to Lando and his infinity for his younger teammate.
The corners of Lando’s lips unstick after forming together by pressing them together so tight. “But-“
“No buts, I’m sick and tired of hearing about Oscar all the time. Oscar did this, Oscar did that , how about you think about me for once?” His eyes are beady as they bore holes into Lando’s skin, his glare searing.
“ You like Charles, I have to put up with hearing about him,” He tries to rebut it, yet the point is mute. The way Max spoke about his supposed rival was not at all comparable to how Lando speaks about his younger teammate. It’s occasional, more expressed through the way that Max seems to laugh impossibly hard around him. He has a permanent smile tattooed onto his mouth each time he hangs out with Charles. He rarely talks about it, cause he really doesn’t need to. He shows his love.
Max pulls a face at him, the arm that’s haphazardly on Lando tensing up. “That’s not a fair comparison and you know it, Norris,” Norris, not Lando. He’s upset. He’d never used Norris, even back in Lando’s initial first days in formula 1 together when they were ‘pitted against each other’ to be rivals.
Well, Max was set up against anyone to be fair.
Not when Drive to Survive set them up to be enemies. Not even when Max left him for ferrari. There simply never was any bad blood. “Why not?” His tongue feels heavy in his mouth. He doesn’t want to fight, he really can’t be bothered to do so. He’d rather just be able to lay around with his best friend, sipping at cheap beers while they bitch and moan about formula 1.
However, Lando has found himself to be more argumentative each year he’d remained in the rotting hell-hole team community of McLaren, so Max was likely expecting this.
He runs the hand that was previously on Lando’s shoulder through his blond mess of hair, not bothering to return it back to its original spot on Lando when he’s done. “I don’t know,” He sighs around his beer bottle, the lip of the glass against his bottom one. “It just is, Lando. Because Charles and I could never be together, he loves Alex- a woman. Oscar is just stringing you along for his own entertainment,”
Lando’s lips tighten into a straight line, the muscles in his cheeks rippling as he sucks them in to chew on the insides. “It’s not for entertainment. Oscar’s quiet, blushy and stupidly inexperienced. He-,” He wants to go on about all the distinctively ‘obvious’ signs that Oscar does genuinely like him in that way. He could go on and on about the younger boy’s huge brown eyes, the ones that show just about every bit of vulnerability possible. It’s not that Oscar doesn’t like him at all, he just didn’t seem to know how to express it.
Yet, the way Max’ face twitches as he keeps going is enough to shut him up.
“Yeah, got it man. Your love life is a whole of a lot more successful than mine.” Seriously bitter and not trying remotely to hide it. He grits his teeth regardless, giving up on any more snarky comments for now.
Max's hand returns to Lando. This time, the tips of his fingers glided under his shirt to run along the tan skin over his back. “Not really. Charles isn’t mine, Oscar isn’t yours,” His words are thick like syrup, his Dutch accent adding a warm tinge Lando’s British one couldn’t replicate.
Lando’s cheeks turn an ugly shade of red, the one that’s usually only just visible through his visor when his face is shoved awkwardly under thick foam padding. The way his face crumples is similar to how his helmet forces the fat of his face to squish up. At least when he’s got the helmet on he looks like his grinning irritatingly wide, no matter his mood. Right now, Max can see through Lando, he sees every single thought and emotion that's passing through his mind.
“Lando,” Max’s wiry fingers snake up to the short tufts of hair that decorate the width of the back of the Brit’s neck. Lando hates how it makes him feel, as if he can almost imagine Oscar doing it. He can almost feel Oscar’s hand on him, his breath on his skin. Their knees bumping, their thighs rubbing together.
“I’m happy for Logan,” His tongue rolls over the words awkwardly. He doesn’t mean them. “Even if he’s not actually gay- must be validating for your best friend to have a crush on you,” Logan deserves the podiums in f1, the good car, the wins, the fucking respect. Lando doesn’t care for those things anymore. He just deserves a teammate who wants him back.
Logan could take his damn seat at McLaren if it meant Oscar could finally be his. Maybe Lando could cope being seatless, maybe he could go to indycar. Oscar would be worth all of the sacrifices he would make.
“You’re not,” He scoffs, sinking back further into the squishy cushions of the couch. Lando wants it to swallow him up whole, to not be in this situation right now. More so, he wants to bury his face into either Oscar’s chest or his lap, yet somehow the first option of being consumed by a Lando-eating couch seems more likely.
“I’m not,” There’s no point in disagreeing. They both know how he actually feels about this. “It’s not fair. It should just be easy, Oscar’s.. He’s gay, right?” The side of his forehead rubs against Max’ shoulder, finding a comfortable place to just rest the day off. “He’s gay and I’m a boy, a boy who loves him. Why can’t it just make sense? Why aren’t we just together already? It should just be easy.”
The noise Max makes is somewhat sympathetic, a mewl almost. “When has love ever been easy?” The hum of the aircon blaring in the room turns Lando’s mind fuzzy, his thoughts dissolving into mush as his eyes blankly stare at the flickering lamp bulb.
He’d rather not think about that.
“Hey,” Lando’s elbow nudges into the soft flesh of Oscar’s stomach, his bare skin gliding against the jersey material of the Aussie’s outfit. It’s an ugly outfit, objectively. A maroon t-shirt, the same one he’d worn to that team dinner sometime at the end of the previous season, a Miami Heat red singlet on top of it.
Pants wise, he has on a pair of beige cargo shorts, short enough to ride up on his muscular thighs. The hair on his legs is so light, practically blonde. Lando’s jealous- of the legs definition, not the hair colour. He really likes Oscar’s thick thighs, despite how almost gross it felt to admit that to himself.
He’s perfectly fine with putting his romantic feelings towards his teammate into words, yet anything mentioning his physical and admittedly, sexual, feelings- yeah, definitely a challenge.
“Hey,” The tops of Oscar’s cheeks are dyed permanently red from the Miami heat, his hair looking lighter underneath the beaming sun. It almost looks a golden brown colour, instead of its usual mousy brown. He looks like he’s blushing, the way he did at any sight of Lando.
“Whatchu been up to these past few days?” He sounds beyond stupid saying it, whatchu. Couldn’t he have just been normal and seemed somewhat competent and stuck with What have you?. He’s so cautious about that- seeming dumb in front of Oscar.
If he could really say what he wanted, he'd be spilling out every single way to say I love you possible, so he just grits his teeth and settles for being cringey.
If Oscar is any bit cringed out by it, he doesn’t show it. “Ehh, nothing much I guess,” His eyes flicker over to the small band aid that covered the cut on the bridge of Lando’s nose. He looks as if he’s about to make a comment on it, ask how Lando was so stupid to fuck up his face just before possibly the biggest media grand prix. Instead, his eyes turn back to the path ahead of him. “Yeah, just been hanging out with Logan a bit. Amping up the celebrations for his home grand prix,”
Great. Fucking Logan has to be brought up.
“Oh yeah?” His faux interest sounds like a near mock. Jealousy seeps thick into his tone, hatred forging towards the American for simply existing. For simply being the one that Oscar loves. Luckily, and somehow miraculously, Oscar doesn’t pick up on the off-tone. Lando grinds his teeth, willing himself to shut up and not spew into anti Logan conversation.
“Yeah,” The younger boy smiles slightly, the wrinkles that appear at the corners of his eyes deepening. “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” An attempted mimic of Lando’s accent, more hitting a very posh George or Lewis one instead of Lando’s bristol accent. “He.. he’s not quite himself anymore, I guess,” The back of his hand rubs against his nose, trying to force away an itch that’s formed itself over a pimple.
He was going to make an idiotic comment directed towards Oscar about how abhorrent his attempt at an English accent was until he got all serious about Logan. Now, it seems insensitive and ignorant to not even pretend he cared about the blond man who’s taking away the love of his life without even realising.
Mustering up any bit of caring, pulling from the part of him that believes ‘ if I show I care about his best friend's misfortunes, maybe he’ll like me as he’ll see that I am so very kind and caring,’, he pitches his voice in a way that gives it some sense of interest. “Oh shit, how so?”
Yeah. Believable enough.
Oscar cards a hand through his mess of a middle part. “He’s not the same Logan I’ve known since I was 14. He- he’s clearly affected by not being able to score points, having a shit car, the sheer amount of hate he receives online,” A weird noise comes straight up from his throat, as if he’s attempted to hack away at something. “I’m really worried about him. He doesn’t really have anyone besides me- doesn’t think anyone likes him,”
Well shit, now he does feel bad for him.
“Alex likes him,” He adds annoyingly- why he didn’t say himself is just idiotic. Yeah, it would’ve been a lie, he still really doesn’t like Logan, but pointing that out to Oscar is possibly one of his shockingly dumbest moments.
Oscar’s eyebrows shoot up a bit, his usually half lidded eyes opening up into stupidly big doe eyes. He looks really fucking cute, and Lando curses him for looking so soft when the topic of conversation is on Logan. “You know Alex better than I do,” Lando isn’t quite sure where Oscar was going with that. “Does he actually like him, or is it just as teammates?”
Lando becomes aware that they’re awfully close to the media pen now, which means their conversation is going to be coming to a forced halt pretty much immediately. “Yeah, he actually likes him. Not just a forced proximity thing, you know?” He assures him, watching with a growing smile and sense of pride when Oscar seems to relax, the light in his eyes brightening.
“Yeah, yeah. Good,” He sighs, taking a black pen that’s shoved against him into his hand, scribbling his signature onto a teenage girl’s hat.
Lando does the same for a shirt that belongs to a boy who looks no older than nine. When he turns back to Oscar, his lips twist into a tantalising grin, “Yeah, yeah. Good,” He mocks him in return for Oscar doing so earlier.
“Awful accent Lando. You needa spend some more time with Danny Ric to work on it,” A huff paired with an eye roll. Successful, he found it funny.
“Or I could spend more time with you,” Hopeful, hopeful. Please come across well.
“You could, indeed,”
Double success.
“I fucking hate Miami,” Oscar isn’t usually so pessimistic, but after a three consecutive hardly mediocre free practices, followed by a mid-field qualifying, and only 2 points on sunday, he’s down in the dumps.
The two of them are sitting in the McLaren motorhome, Lando having just narrowly missed out on another podium in fourth. It’s another boring top three- Max, Lewis, Checo. Nothing to write home about, or even really celebrate. So they’re on the couch, Oscar’s legs kicking up onto the table and Lando’s just next to Oscar’s hips with his bent knees pointing up to the ceiling.
Both of them have their race suits dangling off their hips. The Aussie’s hair is drenched, having had a bottle of water poured over his head by Logan after he’d gotten P11. He was ecstatic, so close to points- or point, singular. He was off celebrating with his family, which Lando thought was simply idiotic. He hadn’t even scored a point, what was he celebrating for?
Lando looks up from where he was engrossed in scrolling through twitter and saving some videos he knew he’d likely find himself watching as he tried to ‘sleep’ tonight. “Yeah, same,” He purses his lips, switching his phone off and tossing it forward. He was aiming for it to land at the edge of his feet, in the space between where his toes ended and the right side of Oscar’s hip was, but his horrific aim makes an appearance as it lands right into the Aussie’s lap.
Oscar picks the phone up gingerly, acting as if it was infected. Lando’s horrified to see that when the screen was in his view, that he actually hadn’t managed to turn it off. That damn Quad Lock case he’d taken from Oscar made it near impossible to click the off button. “Shit, fuck, stop,” Lando tries desperately to yank the phone back as Oscar straightens his arm away, looking at what Lando’s had been searching.
His expression is difficult to read at first. It seems a mix of curiosity with disgust, likely as his teammate had been openly scrolling through porn right next to him. Then, his face shifts into something cloudy and indescribable- like a switch had been flicked in his brain. He finally has something above Lando. Lando who has tantalised him over the course of the past two seasons, teasing him about his lack of a sense of humour, mocking him publicly, making him seem like some stupid.. Fucking bottom.
“What’s this Lando?” He taunts, his free hand pushing Lando off him to give him a better, uninterrupted look at the phone. “Oh, you freak” His voice has never sounded so malicious. It’s delicious, seeing the vulnerable bits of Lando that have always been locked away.
“Fucking stop it , Oscar,” He growls, his hands clawing at the scratchy fireproof fabric stretching across his teammates back. “It’s not funny,” His face feels impossibly hot. If Oscar was to ever see what was in his search history, he’d be praying infinitely that the Lando-eating couch would actually become a real thing.,
“Oooh,” Voice colder than ice. “Teammate sex,” Fuck, fuck, fuck. This isn’t real, it’s just a horrible nightmare that he would wake up from in a full body sweat. “You dirty dog,” Lando’s face crumples, he was going to cry- he was sure of that. “What kind of dubious activities do you get up to with Max? Or is it Daniel?”
Oscar’s taunts finally came to a halt when the scratches against his back stopped. The yelling stopped. Lando stopped. “Just give it back Oscar,” Lando’s voice wavers, his hand reaching out under the arm the phone was in.
He’s not laughing anymore, both of them just blankly looking at each other. Oscar’s mouth seems to take over from his mind, working on auto pilot in a sense. “Are you gay?” His teeth feel heavy, if that’s possible. The sensation could better be described as unfamiliar, like they’ve been crammed into his mouth. The question is hard to ask, and he’s not sure if it was a complete invasion of privacy for him to do so.
Lando’s fingers curl back up to make a weak fist, giving up on the attempt to snatch his phone back. “What do you think?” Harsh and jarring, an attack on Oscar’s lack of cognitive thinking skills and problem solving abilities. “You can see my search history. How to come out as gay is quite literally right under what you read out,” He can’t bring himself to repeat the phrase he’d searched up while watching water stream down Oscar’s face during Logan’s celebration. It’s shameful, and awful.
All of this is awful. He wishes he could’ve come out to Oscar in just about any other way.
Oscar’s chest heaves with great effort, a blank flicker burning behind his brown eyes. “But like- all the girls?” He murmurs, his eyebrows pinching together as his eyes dart around rapidly, the cogs in his mind churning quickly to process the information.
Lando sits back on his heels, his eyes unable to meet Oscar’s burning gaze. He seems surprised.. unaccepting. For a guy who’s in love with another guy, he seems unable to comprehend the concept of being gay. “I like both” He picks at the flaking skin around his nails. “I guess I’m more-”
“Bisexual?”
“Yeah, that.” He swallows dryly, wishing he still had his water bottle from earlier.
“Is it Carlos?” A pair of brown eyes mapping out the incredulous expression on Lando’s face, his brain hurting with all the news he’s taking in.
“Carlos?” How the hell Oscar has come to that conclusion is beyond him. “Why the hell would it be Carlos?” His fingers wrap around one of Oscar’s wrists, the tips of his fingers only just touching.
Oscar looks even more bewildered, a face of pure shock painting his features. He looks adorable, hazy eyes widened as far as possible, jaw slightly opened with his bunny teeth peeking into visibility. “Daniel!” He proclaims, his voice high and squeaky much like Lando’s had been in his first years in formula one. High and undeveloped from puberty.
“No- for god sakes, not fucking Ricciardo,” His hand meets Oscar’s shoulder, shoving him playfully. It’s not until he makes that move that he realises the compromising position they’ve somehow shifted into. Oscar’s on his back, long legs spread out across the pillow cushions. Hiis core muscles are being put to work as he holds himself into sitting at about a 45 degree angle to his legs. Lando in comparison is sitting straight up, one hand on Oscar’s tensed abdomen and the other on his own thigh, his knees bracketing around Oscar’s narrow waist.
His ass is planted straight onto Oscar’s thighs, and it’s not in the circumstance he hoped it would’ve happened under.
Oscar’s eyes are looking up at where Lando is looking down at him, their height levels reversed like this. The whites under his milky brown eyes are perfectly shown, making him look like a begging puppy. He is, in a sense, so desperate to know who Lando has a crush on. For a guy who gets the title of being one of the smartest drivers on the grid- he’s fucking oblivious to something that is quite literally being shoved under his nose.
So as confidence builds deep in Lando’s belly, the want to confess everything he’s ever felt towards his junior teammate miraculously grows further. The desire to pour out all of his love until he’s just a puddle of goop resting at Oscar’s feet, nothing without his lovesick thoughts and late night desperations. He’s putty in Oscar’s hands.
Yet, he can’t confess anything.
It’s difficult to tell why he’s simply unable to do it. Whether it’s his mouth that won’t be pried open by anything, his voicebox’s inability to make any noise that’s more than a strangled squeak, or because his throat feels so tight that an attempt of trying to do anything besides breathing would cause him to pass out from effort.
“Is it just a kink then?” Lando’s getting off him just as he’s finishing asking. He needs some fresh air, and some space- especially from a question like that.
“Ew, Oscar,” His nose wrinkles as his feet hit the floor, his knees locking to draw a halt to the shaking that gives caution that he may go tumbling to the floor at any moment. Just like how Oscar had been struggling so hard to process Lando coming out, Lando was struggling to believe he’d actually admitted it. “Don’t ask people that, it’s really weird,”
The Australian's lips purse, twisting around words that aren’t translating into audible sound. “Right.” He gets out finally, a huff. Not ignorant like Carlos’ or Max’s, but genuinely apologetic. “I’m sorry. That was crossing a boundary,”
Lando immediately feels bad. He feels like he’s pushed Oscar too far, been too mean today. It wasn’t just the events currently going on, but also earlier side comments to Carlos about Logan’s obnoxious celebrations over fuck all, and borderline calling Oscar’s outfit ugly during a media call after lunch time.
He feels really, really bad now.
The sensation of being about to throw up only intensifies as he thinks about how awful he actually is to Oscar. No wonder he likes Logan. Logan is fun and bubbly. Lando is a whiny pessimistic brat who rarely has anything positive to say about anyone. “I guess it is,” His heart rate spikes at the confession, because in what fucking universe was he telling his teammate that he got off on watching teammates have sex.
Lord, it all seems like a very distressing fever dream.
A lock of the younger boy's chocolatey swooped hair falls over his forehead and covers one of his eyebrows. “Huh? You guess what is?” He’s also getting up off the couch at this point, tugging at the hem of his fireproof to cover the patch of skin it has rode up to show.
Lando forces his eyes away from looking.
“It’s a kink,” His cheeks are painted far rosier than he’s ever even seen Oscar’s go. “I don’t know where it came from, came up on my twitter one day and I thought it was hot,” His thumbnail slides in between his front bottom teeth, awkwardly chewing on it to avoid talking any bit more than he needs to.
“Ah,” Oscar’s amused by the answer to some extent, “Well, I guess two fit and sweaty guys fucking about does seem about as good as gay porn can get.” He shrugs it off casually. Once again, how did Lando drag them both into this conversation?
They both look at eachother with thin lips holding back howls of laughter. “You’ve certainly got it Piastri. You are quite the porn expert,” He squeezes the soft meat over Oscar’s hip, watching a clear shivered jolt hit the other boy from the tease.
And that perfect Piastri blush.
(Oscar's Pov)
“Oscar!” Pounding on his door fills the room. He has to forcefully pull himself off his couch, tightening the strings of his sweatpants waistband so they don’t slip off his hips the second he opens the door.
His mouth is filled with the bitter post nap taste that he’s forcibly creating saliva to get rid of. He’d nearly immediately passed out on his hotel couch after he’d gotten home post the Lando-Porn-Coming out conversation. He still feels fried, even hours later. Maybe having a nap in the later afternoon was a poor decision because he now isn't going to be able to get to sleep tonight.
Sure, Lando coming out as gay wasn’t the absolute wildest thing he’d ever heard. He knew a fair few drivers on the grid were- himself included. It was more his search history, which he could’ve sworn he saw his own name in, and the whole.. Yeah, teammate kink thing.
“Hello?” His voice comes out as bleary and croaky, likely from breathing through his mouth instead of his nose. “Lando?” He has to clear his voice first, getting all the gross phlegm out. “Is there any reason you are at my door?” His hip makes contact with the doorframe as he rests against it, his eyebrows pulling together to study his teammate.
Lando’s wearing a pair of tight black jeans and a satin navy button up, his full chest visible from how many buttons are undone. Dampened curls spilling across his forehead and a tight backwards cap smushed over them. He looks ready to hit the town for a night out, vastly different then what he’d conveyed his plans for his evening back in the motor home. As far as Oscar was concerned, Lando was going to be spending the night under the covers with his phone and hand.
“Didn’t you hear the news?” Thanks, that’s rather vague. He pushes past Oscar to let himself into the room. He seems more normal compared to how he’d left the motorhome earlier, not all... weird, like curdled milk or moulded bread.
Oscar’s hungry, not for spoiled foods, but, yeah.
“Yeah, nah,” He shakes his head, instantaneously having Lando’s phone thrusted into his hand. He has to squint to see the glaring phone screen in comparison to the dimly lit living room. Eyes strained with effort, he skims over the article. By the end of it, he almost drops the phone.
Holy shit . ‘Due to track records…’ The article read , ‘Lewis Hamilton (2nd place), Sergio Perez (3rd place), Nico Hulkenberg (8th place), and Esteban Ocon (6th place) lap times have been deleted,' His eyes widen, a knot forming and twisting painfully in his stomach. “The new results are as follows; 1st. Max Verstappen- Red Bull (Remain), 2nd. Lando Norris- McLaren (4th originally),” Oscar looks up at his gleeful teammate who’s just secured yet another podium to his name.
‘3rd. Charles Leclerc- Ferrari (Previously 5th), 4th. Fernando Alonso- Aston Martin (Previously 7th), 5th. Oscar Piastri- McLaren (Previously 9th),” A far more satisfactory result of 10 points over 2. ‘ 6th. Carlos Sainz- Ferrari (Previously 10th)’ He fights the urge to roll his eyes. He genuinely couldn’t even attempt to like Carlos if he tried. And then he sees it- ‘ Logan Sargeant- Williams (Previously 11th)’
(Lando’s Pov)
“Oh shit! Oh shit!” Oscar begins to celebrate his best friend, pride bursting out the seams. Finally, a chance for Logan to show off the talent that he hasn’t been able to flaunt yet in f1. Lando cringes out from the celebration, not because he thinks Oscar is being weird as he jumps around the place- it’s actually quite endearing. It’s more that it’s all about Logan scoring a point, not because he received another podium.
He forces a smile, taking his phone back from Oscar as the younger boy begins to calm down. “God, does Logan know?” He’s cheesing out so hard, and Lando can’t help but wish that energy and pride was directed towards himself. “Fuck, watch this race help him secure a 2025 seat- what a rush,” He sighs, his hand on his chest to slow his breathing down.
Lando’s teeth grit, it’s a bad habit of his ass of recent. Gritting his teeth helps him to not make any stupid comments to the Australian that could ruin his attempts of ‘wooing’ him. Aussie grit, hahaha, maybe their ‘ship’ name could be Mark’s nickname.
Or maybe that’s really weird and Lando should keep gritting his teeth so he doesn’t tell Oscar that he just thought that.
He cocks his head to the side, his shoulders going up to meet them in a careless shrug. “Uh, don’t know. Maybe us four could go out to celebrate tonight,” He suggests, having both of the Williams drivers in mind. That way Alex could hopefully distract Logan so Lando could genuinely just talk to Oscar for a bit. Or just separate the two newbies so Oscar didn’t have to watch Oscar practically drool over the American all night.
“The four of us?” His voice is slightly hoarse from his celebration. “What, are you gonna invite Carlos?” It’s said in a hushed tone, as if it’s a scandal for Carlos to be mentioned. It takes a few seconds for it to click why that is.
It’s because Oscar is still convinced that Lando is in love with Carlos.
“Osc, for crying out loud. I do not have feelings for Carlos,” It gets a laugh out of Oscar, so he’s willing to put up with the CarLando allegations just to make Oscar smile.
“Good,” He grabs a jacket off the back of his couch, a McLaren one from their partnership with Reiss, and begins wriggling into it. “Cause I really dislike Carlos. He’s just.. you know how I feel about him,” A short breath passes his lips as he straightens the jacket out, before looking up at Lando expectantly. “So.. who’s the fourth person then?”
Lando gives Oscar an up and down, silently judging his outfit of a stained white shirt, grey joggers and a puffer over the top. He’d spent far too long getting ready once he’d heard the news from Jon, and he’d just had to pray Oscar was sleeping- a safe and true bet- so he could deliver the news straight to his teammate when he heard. “Uh, Albono,” Grit your teeth Lando, don’t say anything.
“Ah, the padel group,” Oscar cheers gleefully and shoves his hands into his pocket as a go ahead for Lando to begin walking towards the door.
“Oh Oscar,” He hums, shaking his head. “Please, let me pick out a better outfit for you,” Half expecting a reaction of partial offence, he’s surprised when Oscar’s willingly guiding him into his bedroom to where he has piles of clothes scattered across the floor.
“Sorry, please ignore the mess.” Ever so polite, yet so messy that it’s genuinely difficult to try and ignore it. He wants to make a comment of ‘ how can you live like this Piastri?’ But no, he needs to work on being nicer. Grit Lando, Grit.
“Yeah, all good,” It’s said within a drawn out sigh as he begins sifting through the few articles of clothing that Oscar has managed to hang up. “This is nice, where'd you get it from?” He holds up a hanger that’s holding a white button up, dark blue embroidery down the sides.
He looks over his shoulder to where Oscar is standing cross armed, his jacket long discarded and his arms looking huge with the way he’s almost flexing. “Uh, Logan gave it to me,” He murmurs, meeting Lando’s eyes with a look of acceptance to where it is. “Or.. actually, I think it was Robert,”
“Robert?”
“Shwartzman. He was my teammate at Prema,”
Ah, yes. He was often reminded of the fact that he and Oscar had such different previous few years. Oscar was in prema from 2020 until 2021, and Lando left in 2018. Oscar had all of his own F2 and F3 friends, while F1 was all Lando has known for years. “Right,” He bundles the shirt up, tossing it behind himself to where Oscar catches it and begins getting dressed right there. “Pants time,”
“I can’t wear joggers?”
“Of course you can’t wear joggers with a button up Osc,” In saying that, he reckons Oscar is probably the only person in the world who could actually pull that look off.
“Fine,” Lando extracts a pair of black jeans much like his own and gives them to Oscar, actually turning around to face him when he does. The shirt is definitely a good choice. Tight around Oscar’s narrow waist, big arms, and wide chest. He stares blankly at a spot on the wall as Oscar changes from his sweatpants to the jeans, struggling to pull them up at the very end. “How do I look?”
“Yeah, good, good,” There’s a definite waver in his voice, but it’s nothing compared to how fast his heart and mind are pounding at the very moment. “Really good, handsome,” He smirks, getting a violent blush out of Oscar. He looks fantastic, and Lando already knows he’s gonna have a hard time keeping his eyes off the Aussie for the night.
Two facts dawn on Lando within the first hour at the club. Firstly, he’s never seen his teammate drunk, or even relatively intoxicated. Secondly, Oscar is extra funny when he’s drunk- which he gets rather easily. Currently, he’s sitting on the shoulders of some singer that Alex had informed Lando was called Jackson Wang.
Connection between the two? None. Apparently he was the DJ, but clearly he’s preoccupied away from the table.
“Landooooo,” Oscar calls out, one hand in Jackson’s hair while his other one is wrapped around a plastic cup of pure vodka, condensation staining into his pants. The vodka is not the cheap kind, it’s probably far out of any range of alcohol Oscar’s ever had before for a guy who grew up in Melbourne with goon bags at parties. “Hey Lans,” He grins as Lando looks up at him, his green eyes covered by a pair of purple shutter shades that had been shoved onto his face.
“Hey Osc,” He smiles, feeling far too sober right now. It’s nice though, he’s enjoying seeing Oscar so peppy and high spirited. “Whatcha got in your glass,” Ew, not whatcha again. Oscar ducks his head, mumbling something into Jackson’s ear which gets him to bend his legs enough for Oscar to get back onto the ground. A quick embrace shared between the two before Jackson gets back to work actually being a DJ.
“Vodka, the expensive type.” He whistles, guzzling the last of his glass as he steps into Lando’s space, one of his feet between the brit’s. His breath is hot, his voice thick and sickly. “I feel really good Lando,” He whispers, nuzzling his neck into the crook of his elder teammate’s neck.
And as much as he wants to enjoy and savour the moment, he’s worried. “I’m glad Osc,” He slides his arm around the younger’s waist, helping to support him as his other hand brings his scotch to his lips. He’s not sure where he acquired the drink from, especially it not being his drink of choice, but he’s not going to complain about free alcohol. “Shouldn’t you be with Logan?”
He’s leaning on Lando, flipping their height difference around to be smaller than his older teammate. Oscar’s eyes gleam in the dark lighting of the club, the sclera of his eyes more visible then any bit of his pupils. “He’s with.. some girls I think,” He scratches the long strands of his hair that he’s been allowing to grow out. “So, yeah. He doesn’t have time for me,”
Lando feels awful for him. Because not only is Oscar being forced to watch the guy he likes be surrounded and shower people that aren’t himself with attention, it’s all just girls. Logan isn’t gay, and Oscar has to have that shoved down his throat. “I’m sorry about him, Osc. You don’t deserve that.”
Confusion spreads across his soft features, “Why?” His hands rub harshly at his eyes, pushing away his exhaustion to try and keep partying. “I’m happy for him? This is exactly what he needs- some validation that he’s wanted.” He pushes himself up to standing properly, his back hunched over due to the poor posture that he always has. “What don’t I deserve?”
Now Lando is confused. “Because you like Logan,”
“Obviously I like Logan- he’s my best mate,” Obviously, so snappy and completely unlike Oscar.
“No, you like Logan,”
Oscar’s eyes close into a squint of complete disbelief. “I what Logan?” Fucking hell, Drunk Oscar is annoying. “Who is going around telling you that?”
“Max,”
“Why on earth would Max know who I like?” His tone is harsh, the previous bubbliness he had from the alcohol wearing off to reveal a bitchy and irritated Oscar.
“Uh, Charles?” Lando’s voice on the other hand is squeaky and unsure. He does know one thing for sure, he needs another drink. And actually, he needs these shutter shades off, he’s probably pretty difficult to take seriously with glittery glasses on his face. “He- He told me because he found out that I like you,” It feels shameful to say it, like it’s a secret he promised to never repeat.
Lando hooks a finger into the bridge of the glasses, pulling them down just enough to catch the way Oscar’s face softens, a small smile on his lips. He looks flattered, not disgusted like how Lando had almost forced himself to believe he would react.
The moment is peaceful and perfect, until Oscar takes in the previous point about Charles being the leak, and his face twists up like he’s just eaten a lemon. “I’m gonna assume Charles heard from Carlos who ‘heard’ from Daniel, huh?” He winced, looking very displeased. Lando simply shrugged in response, not sure how he was supposed to react. “Daniel knows who I actually like and I reckon he slipped up to Carlos, who twisted it into Logan.”
What the fuck. Oscar doesn’t actually like Logan?
“Who is it then?” Lando’s body aches as jolts of nerves shoot up his spine. He’s asking, but he really doesn’t actually want to know the answer. He’s had to get used to the idea that it might be Logan, so despite his distaste for the American, he’s forced himself to understand that Logan and Oscar’s friendship has spanned over almost a decade, and there has been so much of the younger’s life that Logan was there for, that Lando wasn’t.
But now he’ll have to deal with Oscar liking another person who isn’t him, directly after he confessed his feelings for the Australian. Fuck his actual life, he knew it was too good to be true of a reaction.
“Lando Norris, you are very possibly the dumbest person I’ve ever met,” He sighs, pulling him over into a corner of the club. “You seriously don’t know?” He grins, his bunny teeth hooked over his bottom lip as he looks down at Lando. Lando stares blankly at where one of Oscar’s shirt buttons have come undone, unable to look him in the eye when he tells him who it is. “I thought I’d been pretty oblivious that it’s you,”
No fucking way. Fuck off Oscar, that’s not fucking funny mate. His lips are locked shut, his jaw hanging lax but his mouth sealed close. Speak Lando, say fucking anything. You’re not even intentionally holding back, your teeth aren’t touching for God's sakes!
“No you don’t” A barking laugh emits from the Australian who shakes Lando by the shoulders. “No, no you don’t like me Oscar,” It’s a dream that’s too good to be true. In no universes does Oscar Piastri ever like Lando Norris back- and especially not this one.
“Not sure you get to make that call,”
“You don’t,”
“Ah, but I do Lan,”
“I like that,”
“Lan, Lan, Lan,” He chants, his voice echoing in Lando’s head in a dreamlike, wistful tone. “Lan, I really like you. Not Logan, not Liam, not Guanyu. I like you,” His smile is huge, almost too big to seem sincere.
It’s too good to be true.
“If this is a joke, I’d rather you just stop now. You’re painfully unfunny with this,” He pulls away, turning to where he sees George’s lanky figure pumping a fist into the air while dancing. He has a drink in his hand, one that Lando desperately needs another of so he can forget about this.
Except, he can’t move. The sturdy grip of an arm around his waist keeps him in place, unmoving and trapped. “I’m offended you’d think I’d lie about that, Lan,” Oscar’s voice is shaking with nerves, his heart pounding against Lando’s back. “Because I really fucking like you, so stop calling me a liar.”
Looking over his shoulder, he sees all he’s ever wanted right in front of his eyes, this moment, this is better than he could predict a first win could be. He’s got it, he’s got Oscar. He just.. Fuck, he needs his mouth to work again. “I like you,”
“I’m fond of myself too, thank you Mr Norris,”
Lando fights off the intense urge to push Oscar away and roll his eyes. The moment is too good anyways, he doesn’t mind how annoying Oscar is. “Shut up and kiss me,”
It’s even better than every podium and every F2 win combined. Oscar’s mouth is warm and wet, inviting, his lips moulding against Lando’s to fit them into place. Oscar’s small hands reach up to grip onto the sweaty curls on the back of the Brit's head, forcing him closer to taste him better. Their noses nudge against each other, their tongues fighting for dominance just like on track.
“You- fuck- you’re such a good kisser,” Lando licks along Oscar’s bottom lip, panting for a break to enjoy and relish the moment. His head is spinning violently, and the kiss is to blame far more than the alcohol. “Just wanna,” He pants, grabbing Oscar’s face in between his hands and shoving his lips against the younger boy’s.
“Fuck Lan, that hurts,” He laughs, pushing him backward into another guy’s back, his own hand on his stomach. “You’re so aggressive,” The grin he has on is contagious, and Lando knows it’s the only smile he wants to see for the rest of his life.
Oscar is the only person he ever wants to make laugh again.
Lando shrugs, attaching his mouth back onto Oscar’s sweaty neck, and fuck, it’s the best decision he’s ever made. The Australian’s neck is so thick and biteable, which is never a thought Lando has ever had about someone’s body part, but it’s all he wants to do right now- litter the pale skin with purple and red hickeys. “Yes, please, that feels so good, Lan,” His mouth moves at a million miles to spew out praises for his teammate, urging him to keep going.
Lando doesn’t need to be encouraged, he’ll willingly do this til the end of time.
“Ha-h-hotel,” Oscar spits out, grabbing Lando’s wrist and tugging him out of the club closely after him. “Wanna- wanna kiss you without everyone around us,” On the way out, he squeezes Logan’s waist as they pass by him. The blond is dancing with his arms around Alex, surprisingly, not around any girl. And in actuality, there aren’t any girls around him.
Oh, that’s why Oscar was so excited when Lando said that Alex likes Logan. He was also likely lying about Logan being with a bunch of girls because based on how comfortable they both look, they've been dancing together the whole night. Lando didn’t even know that it was that way for either the American or the Thai man.
He'll definitely need to talk about this with Alex.
Logan’s head whips around as he sees Lando basically attached to Oscar and his blue eyes widen, a grin of excitement on his face. “You fucking did it, Osc!” Oscar nods wildly, raising his eyebrows in congratulations to Logan in return.
The two will likely discuss more of both of their situations at another time, but right now, Lando shamelessly wants Oscar all to himself.
Time seems to be passing by too quickly for Lando to even comprehend each moment, as before he knows it, he’s in a taxi and his mouth is back on Oscar’s neck, clearly successful in his plan to leave as many hickeys as possible.
Looks like they’re gonna hurt like hell in the morning.
“Osc, Osc, Osc,” He pants, his teeth feeling strangely numb as they graze over the same patch of skin for what feels like the thousandth time. “Does Logan like Alex?” He’s met with the sloppy kiss of Oscar battling to get to his tongue again.
He’ll take that as a yes.
“Uh huh. It was never Lo and I, it was me wanting you, and Lo liking Alex.” He grumbles, upset when Lando pulls away for a breather. Clearly, Oscar has a kissing stamina that Lando simply can’t keep up with. “Lannn,” He whines, his hand meeting Lando’s cheeks to direct his mouth back to his own.
“Osc, you are more of a whiny brat than Carlos,” Oscar’s smile drops and his eyebrow raises. Lando laughs harder, pecking Oscar’s lips but being met with a twist of his head away and refusal of kisses. “Don’t be like that, Piastri,” The words all slur together, so it’s probably the weakest delivery of a threat possible.
“Don’t compare me to Carlos,” He warns, his eyes squinted to make him look ‘scarier’.
With a huff, he finally caves. If he and Oscar are gonna be like this, he’s gonna have to sort out a way for his best friend and hopefully his boyfriend to get on well. “Fine. You are more of a whiny brat then I am whenever I don’t get a podium,”
“Wow. I’ll stop complaining so much. I must be really irritating right now,”
With an eye roll, he finally gets Oscar to properly kiss him back. “I love you just a little bit, Osc,”
“Love you more, Lan,”
I'm actually so surprised I started writing this about a week ago with the intention of Lando winning the miami race in the book but then he actually won and decided i would write a separate story about that 🙃. Anyways congratulations to Lando for his first win. carlos and oscar need to stop beefing but it is a good plot point so!
also, the original top 11 finishes in the book are as listed to make more sense; Max Verstappen, Lewis Hamilton, Sergio Perez, Lando Norris, Charles Leclerc, Esteban Ocon, Fernando Alonso, Nico Hulkenberg, Oscar Piastri, Carlos Sainz, Logan Sargeant.
#lando norris#oscar piastri#formula1#f1#formula one#mclaren#landoscar#twinkclaren#miami gp 2024#oscando#logan sargeant#carlos sainz#max verstappen#alex albon
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Mc ate Solomon´s food
Lucifer:
he was ready to dial for every type of emergency services they have in the Devildom before you can even think about dying
but to his surprise you didn´t even flinch
and Lucifer came to the only viable conclusion, Solomon managed to clone and keeps the real you locked up somewhere while the clone has to manipulate him to say yes to a pact
but you keep insisting your the real you so he slightly believes you
but he still wants to know how you survived that and honestly no explanation will make him belief you
especially if it´s that it just randomly happened
he´s still convinced that´s just one of Solomon´s weird plans and you aren´t the real you
Mammon:
he was ready to play real life Romeo and Juliet when he thought you died because you fainted
but good thing you woke up before he could go through with it
and he´s losing it when you tell him you´re immune apparently
because that means you were ready to just deal with whatever this abomination Solomon calls food will cause
I mean he´s happy you did survive but he would have just preferred it if you just did not eat it and gave him a heart attack
and warned him beforehand that Solomon dumped his food onto them
who knows what would have happened if somebody didn´t pay attention and accidentally ate it
Leviathan:
he thinks your a Zombie back from the dead to torment him for not stopping your Death aaand now you´re pissed of because he insulted you
which is a fair thing to say because the only thing that´s different is that you look a bit tired and that was Levi´s fault he demanded that you play games with him the entire day and night
but you also ate whatever Solomon made and left in the House of Lamentation so maybe it isn´t that far fetched to think you died and came back
at least Levi is sorry for calling you a Zombie but now he just wants to know if you achieved IRL god mode and just are unable to be killed
and no he will not accept that you´re just immune to whatever Solomon makes
Satan:
it was nice knowing you, but Satan has to hurry or he´ll miss the ally Cats
there is plenty of time to mourn when he has time but he has priorities that are very time limited
and imagine his surprise when he comes Home hours later and your sitting in his room and glaring at him
I mean it´s great you´re alive and everything but now he kinda wished you would have died because you look very angry because he was willing to let you die just so he can play with Cats
and the worst part is that you didn´t get a chance to play with the Cats because he ditched you as soon as he thought you were dead
but sucks to be him because you saw Lucifer and told him what happened, shows him to just leave you just so he can play with Cats and not take you with him
Asmodeus:
he sacrificed you to Solomon so he doesn´t have to die, I mean he loves and would die for you but not like this, never like this
he promises he will lay a Rose on your grave every week and will coordinate your funeral himself
maybe… depends on when it happens he has a bunch of parties planned so he might not remember or won´t be able to to plan your funeral
but it´s a good thing he won´t have to! because you survived, yay!
wait why are you saying you´re going to leave with Solomon? oh come on it´s not because he said he won´t plan your funeral!? he´s a very busy Demon so you can´t blame him!
okay he takes it back he would plan your funeral just don´t leave with the person who´s neglectful behavior nearly killed you, I mean he wanted to sacrifice you so he can live but his point still stands
Beelzebub:
before you die you have to tell him where your secret snack stash is, just because your gone doesn´t mean the snacks also have to die
I mean he´s you´re going to die but he really wants the forbidden snacks, the only food in the House he can never find
and now he feels like he did a horrible mistake asking that because as it turns out you managed to survive and you aren´t happy he just wants you snacks
you even gave him the worst punishment he could ever get, you said you´ll refuse to talk to him for the rest of the week
in his opinion it´s far to cruel just because he ignored that you could have died and thought your Human world snacks are more important
Belphegor:
he´s already planning your funeral when he sees Solomon forcing you to eat whatever he made
and imagine his surprise when you don´t drop dead or faint, I mean you look ready to run and empty your stomach as soon as you can but you´re not dead
but he doesn´t want to know how you can survive that because the only way that would work if you used forbidden magic or did something really stupid and he can imagine you doing anything, not to survive Solomon´s food alone but it would be in character for you
but he´s glad you didn´t die, would be hard to find a new pillow as good as you are
and he would miss you but the pillow part is the most important one
#obey me#obey me shall we date#obey me imagines#obey me headcanons#obey me lucifer#lucifer avatar of pride#obey me mammon#mammon avatar of greed#obey me leviathan#leviathan avatar of envy#obey me satan#satan avatar of wrath#asmodeus avatar of lust#obey me asmodeus#obey me beelzebub#beelzebub avatar of gluttony#belphegor avatar of sloth#obey me belphegor
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Been off from tumblr a bit but I just wanna share my general thoughts about TSAMS, especially today's episode...
‼️Quick warning for suicide and self harm mention‼️
I feel betrayed. I legit cried. Out of embarassment, betrayal, and pure but well-reserved anger.
I'm not going to be quiet about how to show handled Sun's problem. Not one fucking media type ever dares to normally bring up suicidal problems, the people who suffer from this, the amount of kids and adults who DIE from such thoughts. This isn't about the overly edgy teenagers who want to normalize cutting yourself is okey and cool. This is about the people who suffered for months and years with such conditions while the world made fun of them or ignored their calls for help. Ignored the signs.
USA doesn't have much of a public transport where the show is going on. But here we do. And a lot of trains are late every day. Late for hours because of "mechanical issues". 8 out of 10 times the mechanical issue is a local kid who jumped front of the train. A teenager fed up with life. An adult who lost their way. An ederly too impatient for death.
I have waited months. Months. To see how Sun deals with it. A character I fell in love with not in a romantic sense, a character who shared way too many of my own problems from hallucinations from abuse till betrayal. A character who was pushed and pulled their entire life around people who slapped you then said they love you. I wanted to see how he heals out from it.
The signs were there. Everywhere. Sun said it out loud once that he at least fantasized about death. EVEN OLD MOON KNEW ABOUT THIS! He literally told New Moon Sun would be capable of doing it.
So why... why through Miku, the character used as the "weird fandom girl" symbol do they bring up such a delicate topic? A topic that is not delicate because you have to tip toe around the people who live with self destructive thoughts day and night, but delicate because it matters to be properly heard out AND NO ONE LISTENS!
Not one fucking media listens. A lot of us out there rely on fandoms. Stories we can escape to because the world never listens. And call me a self-projector all you want dear creators or whoever writes the story, but you either just pulled the cheapest and most dumbest way to close off a story line with solving Sun's problems off-screen, or you just legit don't give a fuck about people who "self-projected".
Honestly, what if I did? What if in a sense, I saw myself in Sun? A Sunshine of a character ruined and changed by the things that happened to him. Am I not allowed to relate to him? Am I an annoying "fan-girl" for caring about how he heals because I myself have no idea how to do it either? Or am I like Miku for hoping someone calls out on his behaviour because that's something I've wanted my entire life and never got?
And here I am, still somehow hoping Sun is lying. That he is in denial. That there is more to what was shown... but honestly? How long should I wait and hope while the character I started to like is now becoming a bit too toxic?
And with all due respect, I'm taking this episode personally. The creators watch the fandom. Probably have their secret accounts to see what the people theorize. And if Sun is not lying, and suicide is an annoying topic and we are self-projecting too much onto Sun, with all due respect, dear creators... grow the fuck up and educate yourself.
I don't need the world to pity my ass for having self-harming habits, wishing to die and even attempted suicide before (I'm getting my ass to therapy in the meantime so do not worry about me), but all I want from content creators to fucking educate themselfes before bringing up such topics. TO CARE A BIT MAYBE?!
I have survived my worst times, but not everyone does (it's not about who is weaker or stronger, only utter guilt held me back, without that I'd be long gone), andI want for those who has no help feel like they're heard and seen. Cause literally that's all itt takes sometimes to maybe save someone's life.
So yeah. I'm utterly disappointed in this episode. Not because I want the world to know that I'm suicidal and everyone should tip toe around me and "omg pls give me attention" ect ect ect...
Im disappointed because I had hopes for TSAMS to maybe, maybe be an example and bring this topic up normally for a change. But well... here goes my hope for an educational approach of suicide and self harm in a popular show.
#tsams#sun and moon show#the sun and moon show#sams#tsams sun#tsams moon#sams moon#sams sun#the sun and moon show sun#tw: suidice#tw: sucidal thoughts#tw: suicide#tw: self harm#tw: self destruction#I hate that tagging here is awfully bad too#So yeah.... bit of a venting?#Also guys I swear Im okey Im getting my ass that therapy and regulating my life as much as possible#even have a buddy system fir safety measures#And by now I have a lot to hold on#But I truly just wanted to see Sun say something about how was he truthfully coping#and if they really solved that off screen....#I might even quit the show for a while#Definetly gonna take a break for a week#Because this hurted a lot#But this is a call for war and I'm not gonna shut up about this
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Okay, I binged "My next life as a villainess" and I gotta defend my girl Catarina
Incoming spoilers for seasons one and two
So Crunchyroll has a comments system, at least on mobile. There were so many comments complaining about Catarina, saying she's so dense and so dumb, and some were like, her being the heroine ruins the show.
And I just want to say....people like her exist! That's literally me! Not even joking, most of her reactions to her romantic prospects are the same exact ones I would make!
Like, some of us aren't good at societal cues. If you want me to know you're in love with me, you have to verbally say, "I'm in love with you, romantically."
Some of us have short term memory. Geordo, as much as I don't trust him, he had the right idea, reminding Caterina a lot about his feelings, giving her romantic gifts, verbally telling her he loved her, not as a friend. I had a lot of respect for that.
Caterina feels very aro-ace coded, which is not to say she's always aro, but sometimes being aro means some days you're aromantic, some days you're not, and sometimes you like a good romance novel, but in real life you can't comprehend how it works.
And an aro ace who was kissed once (looking at you Keith) and then the person who kissed them never brings it up again, never talks about it, goes completely back to normal in terms of interraction, someone with a short memory/attention span, who only knows romance from a literature perspective, who obviously doesn't understand romance from a real life perspective, is gonna assume that it was a) a joke b) a mistake/accident c) the person who kissed them regrets it d) all of the above, or something else.
There's also the level of trauma and stuff that Catarina has gone through, so she may just not have the state of mind to be like, "ah, the guy who engaged himself to me out of guilt, when I was eight, isn't cancelling the engagement because he genuinely loves me." No! Your main focus is survival!
Anyways, people being mean to a heroine who I found myself intimately relating to in a way I haven't before was kind of a bummer, and I felt like someone should stand up for her. Also, I learned I need someone like Geordo, who when I slip into the aro space will remind me how he feels/how I feel. So that was kind of nice 😁
I also highly recommend it, it was super cute, and the characters all had that "chaos reigns" vibe that the twst boys have. Might end up writing for it, cause I'm having a hard time finding fics for it.
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Saw the vamp!touchstarved character braunrote and I offer my opinions:
Vampire Vere would be ruthless before he really falls in love with reader. He's greedy and wouldn't think twice about draining someone. But tbh I think when he gets close/serious with reader he'd still be greedy and messy and shit but he'd drink readers blood like it's fine wine. He gets his main fix from other victims but really savours reader. Expect it to be extremely bloody tho, he likes it to look like a crime scene xD
Leander for sure tries to kinda hide it. Not hardcore, bit he tries not to tell EVERYONE. He won't go our of his way but also you wouldn't know by just looking at him. I also think he'd be hesitant to drink from his SO and would make it way romantic, or at least he'd try
Mhin would go out of their way to hide that their a vampire. Would NEVER EVER dream of drinking from a person. They and up having to do it but they won't be happy. Also if their SO asked for them to drink their blood Mhin would refuse 100 times before agreeing. Feels very bad that they actually enjoyed it.... Might have gone a bit overboard too (vere did find out and tease them to hell and back fs)
I don't have much on Ais and Kuras rn cause... Brain empty
VAMPIRE TOUCHSTARVED BRAINROT, LET’S GOOOO! I love love LOVE all of your headcanons. Absolutely love them.
—
Vampire Vere would definitely not think twice about murder. MC would find him dabbing at his crimson lips with bloodstained, monogrammed handkerchiefs more often than not. And when he wants to feed from his beloved? It’s an entire show he puts on. They get a candlelit room, a nice hot meal, tons of fluffy pillows and blankets…the whole nine yards, before he leans so close, his breath runs across the nape of their neck. “You smell delightful,” he whispers, a firm kiss pressing to their skin. “I’m sure you don’t mind that I eat after all of this preparation I’ve done for you, hm?”
Leander DEFINITELY tries to hide it. There are rumors, of course, swirling around Eridia, but no one really knows what’s true and what’s not. Turns out, being a contracted killer really helps conceal his vampiric identity! He can easily do away with bodies and no one will ask questions. Why do criminals keep appearing with two holes in the same spot on their neck? Weird. Maybe someone should hire Leander to look into that and find the culprit…and of course, he’ll take MC along for the journey, which seems a bit more roundabout than it should be. If he needs to feed during the trip, then perhaps they’re a good source of sustenance. After all, does it matter if his beloved knows his secret? They won’t tell a soul unless they’re trying to get themselves mysteriously killed too…
Mhin would never drink from a person…unless they’re absolutely starving to death. Even then, I imagine it to be a moment of disgust with themself—retching and vomiting the first few times they feed, then admitting they need to drink blood for their survival and doing it as humanely as possible. They knock out their victims and only drink until the hunger has barely subsided. They choose spots beneath clothes where marks could be mistaken for bug bites. Mhin struggles to admit they like MC’s blood more than anyone else’s; they really wish they didn’t, but they can’t get enough of it, to the point that they find it difficult to sleep beside them at night without absentmindedly running their fangs along MC’s skin. They’re just so hungry around their partner. Maybe…just a little sip…
Ais is a voracious beast and doesn’t try to hide his vampiric nature even a little bit. Everyone knows he’s dangerous, and everyone avoids him like the plague. And naturally, Ais with Vere is…horrifying. There’s a lot of begging for him to give mercy and let them live, but he’s no fool. If he lets too many of his victims live, then surely people will find a way to gang up on him. While that’s an interesting proposition, he’s not sure he wants to fight a dozen weak-ass humans when he’d much rather fight someone of his own caliper; humans are just too pathetic. When he meets MC, he’s constantly teasing them with flashes of his long fangs. “Scared? Should be, little sparrow,” he says, scrubbing dried blood off of his knuckles. He even sneaks up to feed from them, thinking MC will just be another victim, but somehow becomes smitten with their taste instead. They should be savored. It’s much more satisfying tasting them on occasion than devouring them whole so quickly.
Kuras is meticulous. He’s very much prone to drawing blood through proper means and drinking it from simple testing tubes in shot-like doses. If a patient needs a transfusion or a blood test, he’ll simply take an extra vial or two as payment. Yes, he feels guilty at first, but he can’t allow himself to starve when he needs to help the people of Eridia as a consequence of his terrible past. When MC is discovered practically bled out and armless, he makes sure to put them back together and doesn’t take a sample, not even a little, but he strongly considers it. He even has to wipe drool from his lips because they simply smell so strongly of beautiful blood. When they get closer to him and realize his true nature, he offers little more than a calm smile. “Would you like to sustain me as well, or do you prefer our current partnership instead?”
#touchstarved game#touchstarved ais#touchstarved vere#touchstarved mhin#touchstarved leander#touchstarved kuras#kuras#vere#leander#mhin#ais#vampires#ghosty’s asks#ghostywrites#touchstarved headcanons
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BELLADONNA
Character/s: merman!Manjiro Sano
Warnings: f!reader, explicit sex, mature language, dark content, dub-con kissing, set in regency era, monsterfucking, amnesia, manipulation/brainwashing, mentions of multiple murders, death/murder, mystery, pregnancy, oviposition, mikey has a weird 🍆 + has sharp teeth and nails, infidelity (not towards reader), yandere mikey, hints of cannibalism (bc mikey is feral and darn possessive), and breeding. Minors do not interact.
Note: HAPPY BIRTHDAY MIKEY MY LOVE 🥺💕 also this is for bby vivi's @festive Things that go bump in the night collab
Synopsis: No matter how hard you try, the waters always lure you into their depths.
WC: 3.8k
Dark cumulonimbus clouds littered the whole sky that they almost formed a dome with their menacing size, promising heavy rain and strong winds in the area they deemed victims. The dreary day has somehow turned interesting with how the whole tiny village is buzzing with life due to preparations because the last time one hit the place was a year ago. It was a truly devastating time that caused deaths and many homes that had to be rebuilt. You were no exception to this—waking up by the shore with many cuts and strange marks on your flesh along with a hazy memory. Your family and friends said it was a miracle that you survived. Even your husband, who was still courting you at that time, was far too relieved to question how you ended up that way.
“I’m almost done, dear. You can eat first if you want to.”
Your gaze never left your husband’s figure shutting the windows and boarding them up to prevent the harsh winds and raindrops from entering. The ocean was as angry as the sky, waves rocky enough to drown an inexperienced person. Ships had to be docked while those who dared to go through a storm had already left by then. You were supposed to do your laundry by the stream that led to the ocean, however, it had to be postponed due to the nasty weather. The waters would be rising, enough to be seen as risky. Your whole form shuddered at the thought of swallowing those waters, nightmares of it continued to haunt you when you least expected it.
But there was always a person who saved you—a face you couldn’t make out because the nightmare always ended just as you were about to.
“Don’t worry, I’ll wait for you to finish.”
In such bad weather and the threat of flood, you normally would have gone to your friend’s house a few miles north to take shelter there. Yet, your husband was far more insistent today for you to remain here—indoors and never leave until the storm was gone no matter what happens. And unfortunately, even to this day, you couldn’t wrap your head around the fact that your friend died last year due to a mysterious illness that caused an uproar in the village after that storm. There was nowhere to go but to stay here. But for him to go this far by locking all the windows and doors, muttering under his breath the entire time. It was an odd sight, and frankly, you were worried by his actions.
Why on earth would he be placing barriers that prevented you from leaving easily when a flood may occur? Has he lost his mind?
Biting back your tongue from spilling your fears all over the floor, you tried to sit back and watch. Your hands on your lap were tightly gripping the white cloth of your dress in hopes that patience will not leave you as you waited for your husband to finish. Tonight’s dinner is already set and waiting for you both by the table. But, you lost your appetite when he finished and called for you to join him.
“Listen to me carefully, dear,” your husband spoke up suddenly in time as the thunder roared across the sky that almost frightened you. The flash of lightning was a bit disorienting. His usually gentle eyes were hard and left no room for any discussion. “You’re not to leave this house until the stream’s flow is back to its original state. You don't have to worry about food or anything you might need—I’ll get them. Just stay here until I deem it safe, alright?” His hand reached out to touch yours, squeezing it in a reassuring way. “I… I’ll protect you. You don’t have to feel confused or scared anymore. I promise you that.”
A good wife never talks back to her husband so you merely nodded. Afraid of what may occur if you tried to press on with your plaguing questions. You have heard of many tales of troublesome wives and crossing your husband was the last thing you wanted. But what he said, instead of silencing the doubts in your mind, merely caused them to be in a state of panic. Ever since marrying you, your beloved husband has been quite protective, to the point he was close to being overbearing. At first, you thought it was just because he cared for you. There were times it seemed sweet. However, whenever it started to rain heavily or there was a chance a storm would come, he always had an odd look on his face. You haven't even been to the beach nor got close to it ever since. What was even more infuriating was his silence or the half-hearted reasons that never made any sense.
What does he mean by protecting me? Surely what happened last time was merely an effect of my own negligence… Mother nature is a daunting force to battle with human hands. But what occurred then won't repeat again, especially with all the planning made to prevent it.
So what is he so scared of?
That night while lying in bed next to your unconscious husband, the mere companion you had was the candlelight flickering with every howl of the wind that tried to penetrate through the barriers, rattling the wooden planks. The sound of heavy raindrops pattering on the brick roof was neither relaxing nor annoying. You couldn’t sleep. Getting out of bed slowly, you glanced at your husband a few times to see if he would stir awake, to which he didn’t. Nights of trying to leave bed to either grab a cup of water or just sit in the sitting room that ended up only him grabbing your arm to stop you flashed before your eyes the second your toes touched the cold floor. Exhaustion from running around and barricading the house has chained him to a night of deep sleep.
“When is this damn storm going to go away?” you mumbled to yourself, hugging your torso as you walked up to the window where a gap is visible. Peeking through the space, you sighed at how the outdoors resembled a dark void you’ve seen countless times in your dreams. If it weren’t a stormy night, the endless void would seem straight out of a nightmare. “He can’t keep me cooped up here forever…”
A deep exhale escaped your lips as you sauntered to the kitchen to drink a cup of water. Perhaps you could blame it on the darkness of the house or the lack of sleep, but you were quite sure you heard the back door creak open. A chill ran down your spine, and the hairs on the back of your neck all stood. It was a miracle you didn’t drop your cup and alert your husband to a conscious state.
“What the…”
The door was definitely open, and the wooden planks and other things your husband used to block it lay on the side. Since when did it become like this? You don’t recall hearing anything other than the loud thunder that follows after lightning splits through the sky. Swallowing your fright, you were just about to close the door again when suddenly, the rain stopped. You blinked twice at the strange phenomenon, fear doubling at the unexplainable until you heard it—someone humming.
Anyone out in this weather would be crazy, especially at night. Whether it was carried off by the wind or the person was just close by, the tune being hummed was enchanting and yet, deceptively alluring. Curiosity fuelled your steps as you made your way out, promising to just take a peek if it was someone and not something. But every step you took led you further closer to the beach where the waves were serene. Even the moon was out, its faint light illuminating the murky waters. The whole scenery was as if it came out of a painting that almost appeared like there wasn't any downpour earlier. But what had you continuing down your path until the ocean licked the soles of your feet was that ethereal humming that you couldn't help but feel like you’d heard before yet unable to pinpoint where.
Saltwater caressed up to your breasts the moment you snapped out of the entrancing song. Mind bewildered on why you let yourself get enraptured until something grabbed your arm, causing you to almost let out a shriek when your gaze landed on two onyx opals that belonged to a blond man, staring at you in great interest. Unable to see his whole face for the other half was submerged in water. He was handsome and pretty at the same time—a beautiful mysterious being that you had the chance to encounter. His whole aura was captivating. And yet, something felt wrong.
Heart pounding, you were unsure of what to do. What would anyone do when some stranger is now swimming next to you in the middle of the night? Lips about to move and question him on why he was here and all which ended up on the back of your tongue at the feeling of something brushing against your legs—a fishtail belonging to the man. Crimson was the color of its scales, giving off an illusion of him bleeding in the water. A sign of danger. The alarm bells started ringing in your head, your body froze at what that meant.
Breath caught up in your throat, you couldn’t move a single muscle. Frankly, you didn’t know what else to do but trudge back to shore if the merman allowed you to leave. Horror stories of sailors drowning and women being lured into the waters by such creatures to feast on ran through your mind while standing there. The icy breeze that brushed past you snapped you out of your dread, legs starting to turn back. But the merman had other ideas, clinging to your arm in earnest. Your cry for help turned into a gasp when his wet hands reached up to grab your face, those irises resembling the endless void of the night. His sharp nails slightly dug into your cheeks, but not enough to harm your flesh.
“Pretty pearl, do you remember me?”
“W-what…” There was no way this creature was speaking! His mouth never budged but you definitely heard his voice in your head. Was this the power of a merman? And is he the one humming earlier that lured you here? Foolish, you were absolutely foolish to fall for such tricks. You should have stayed at home as your husband told you. Teeth chattering, you shook your head. “L-let me go… Please, I need to—”
“It’s me, Manjiro. You remember me right, my pretty pearl?”
“M-Manjiro?” you echoed his name which caused the merman to show his full face where a smile was stretching his lips. “I’m sorry, b-but I don’t recall knowing you—”
His lips were on yours instantaneously, keeping you locked there while you struggled to free yourself. Tears started to form in your eyes, scared to death at what may happen next. To drown and eat you would be quite easy for such a powerful being. Your hands continued to push him back, albeit pathetically before they fell limp to your side.
Images of you and this merman flowed through your mind during the duration of the kiss, his tongue swiping and tasting your lower lip, begging to be let in. Memories of you prior to that storm hitting the village a year ago flooded your mind like honey, slowly unlocking more that led to you recognizing the merman to be the one who saved you when you fell off a crumbling cliff on your way back home to grab your things and evacuate. Those nightmares of drowning all made sense now for it has happened before and he—Manjiro—saved you the moment your body fell into the water, breathing oxygen back into your lungs. The very merman who caressed you in places you’ve never dared to touch in that tiny cave in curiosity. Those few moments spent on an undiscovered island a few miles from here were rare and interesting that it didn’t make sense how you’d easily forgotten about it. But such a meeting had to end when you both were confronted by another merman as he was returning you back to shore. Torn from each other so early that ended up you fleeing from such danger and almost drowning in the process as he fended off his own kind from touching a strand of your hair.
You couldn’t quite believe your savior and the merman you were enchanted with was out here, wanting to see you again after all these months. The one you fell in love with during that first meeting. And to meet here again, it was fate all along.
The tears of terror that collected on the rim of your eyes rolled down out of happiness instead. Arms wrapping themselves around the merman, holding onto him tightly. A smile on your face as you sobbed while he continued to kiss you. “Manjiro? Yes, it is you! Oh, how could I ever forget you?” Apologies poured out of your mouth like a gentle drizzle that had the merman humming out of glee. Finally, you two were reunited and Manjiro could never be happier. His hands lowered to hold you by your hips, intent to mark you again with his nails.
Unfortunately, just as he was celebrating having your memories return, Manjiro was instantly troubled at the fact you were now mated to someone other than him. Your husband wasn’t a stupid one and nothing could be more convenient for the merman to have him out of the picture. Months of waiting for you to go back to the beach and see you left Manjiro frustrated. There was no way you could easily forget him. So, who was taking up your attention that you wouldn’t try and see him again?
Of course, your bastard of a human lover.
Ill ideas that spelled death and evil tainted his thoughts every time he came to land, draining much of his magic to walk on two legs for minutes just to check up on you and see that bastard breathing in your proximity. He was quite sure that the bastard did something for you to forget him just like that. Dedication to see you was his only driving force so to see you next to a disgusting human made him want to tear his head off. This often led to him going back to the ocean with his blood boiling.
A merman would never be accepted into human society, that he knew. Those who did ended up dead trying. Manjiro refuses to die and be separated from you—his precious pearl in a vast ocean of nothing or anything meaningful to offer. However, he won’t easily back down again—he can’t turn back now just because your stupid human lover was wary of him. Manjiro swore he won’t make the same mistake again of getting caught by your husband, especially since said human has seen his true form upon escaping his suspicious glare.
To kill the vile human may be his ultimate goal, but to become close to being human shall solve his other problems.
Yes, he has to finish what he had started.
“Where are you going?” your husband’s inquiry was almost missed by you, excited to meet up with your non-human lover. If there were days you wished you didn’t marry so early, they merely multiplied now. Yet, you weren’t cruel to crush your husband’s heart. You did enjoy his company, through the ups and downs. He can’t compete with Manjiro’s enthralling aura, though. There was also the chance he might go and kill Manjiro if you did reveal your secret affair that has been going on for a month now since meeting the merman again. Just keeping the marks Manjiro has given you whenever you two meet was already a difficult thing to keep, what more about the true nature of your lover? Secrecy can sometimes be a far better choice than honesty. “It’s going to be late in a few hours.”
“I’m… just going to be quick, dear. I’ll be back quickly,” you reasoned, feet itching to leave the house. The look on your husband's face was doubtful but in the end, he dismissed you with a wave.
“Just be back before it gets dark, alright? Perhaps you didn't hear the news but there's been another murder in the area. Whoever the sick person is for killing people, I hope they get caught soon or we’ll have to move.”
Head too high up in the clouds to listen to the rest of his sentence, you left home with a giddy disposition. Manjiro was the only thing that revolved around your head and being able to kiss and touch him again. These past few days have been uneventful. If it weren't for your lover’s constant presence who also served as a sweet escape from mundane life, you would have died of boredom under the same roof as your husband.
“My pretty pearl, do you want me?”
Gasping against his shoulder, you fought back a moan. Futile and pointless it was for Manjiro intends to hear you sing beautifully as you bounced on his weirdly shaped cock. The rushing of the stream drowned out your whines and the lewd noise of your wet pussy folds meeting the base of his length that oddly hits and rubs the right places inside your cunt. Such a cock definitely does not belong to a human being. The first time taking it was a struggle for you swore you almost came that second the tip pushed past your cervix. Manjiro would always make it a habit to return you to your husband in an almost delirious state, one where all you could think of is his cock. From the very second you leave the stream with his thick cum trailing down your damp thighs to when you sleep at night, fantasizing of having the merman’s offspring.
Today was no different. Manjiro’s tail was slightly thrashing once you sped up, angling your hips and then resuming to bouncing on his throbbing cock that was leaking pre-cum—if you could call it that. Countless times has he stuffed you full of his thick warm fertile semen that came after he spurted two or three eggs into your womb. His whispers of you becoming a great mother never failed to heighten the experience of having sex with him in the great outdoors. A factor of this being an illicit affair could also be thrown into the mix and the idea of your husband being unaware has you scandalously creaming and squeezing Manjiro. The merman’s jaw slackened at how tight and hot your pussy is, revealing rows of sharp teeth that sunk into your nape, just wishing to mark you forever right then and there.
But Manjiro has to be patient. He has to be cunning and decisive. Your husband wasn’t the only person he has to eliminate to tip things in his favor. Killing your friend in this village last year was just the first step and consuming more human flesh was only the beginning of fulfilling his dream to stay by your side. If he had to kill more of his own kind to protect you, so be it. Manjiro isn’t scared to feed on human and merman flesh to obtain his goal. It wouldn’t be long. He has killed enough people to be able to turn his fish tail into human legs without the consequences of tiring easily or feeling like he was walking on a bed of sea urchins.
“Ah! M-Manji… N-need more. Want to feel you… burn. Want to hear you!” you sobbed with your warm gummy walls squeezing him dry. Manjiro knew if you came one more time, your husband would catch a whiff of your infidelity. But really, could this even be classified as one when it was he whom you truly love and not your sack shit of a husband? “M-more! Please! Wanna… have your babies.”
Ah, Manjiro truly loves you.
There was no one else on this earth that could please him so easily as you do. And that alone was enough for him to do everything in his power for you to stay by his side, even if you want to be free of his spell or grow tired of him. Manjiro will never let you go.
Gently pushing you to lay down on one of the smoother rocks, the merman crawled his way up to you. Not even prompted, you spread your legs to accommodate him. Your raw cunt was still oozing with his semen was perfectly in view. Manjiro grunted as he eased himself into your pussy once more, intent on breeding you and fertilizing those eggs. Because what was more laughable than for your husband to realize you were pregnant and carrying a merman’s brood? Delighted at the image of you round and practically ready to give birth, Manjiro leaned down to kiss you. His blood was singing songs in praise to you, eagerly rushing down to his erect and painful cock that was about to insert more eggs into you.
“M-Manjiro!” you practically screamed as your climax crashed down on you, back arching and nails drawing up half-moons and what resembled shooting stars across his back. Your legs quivered around his torso, satisfied as your merman chased after his own release once he safely inserted the eggs. You could barely see your husband glaring down at you through your hazed vision due to the rush of euphoria brought by Manjiro. Too far gone at the amount of ecstasy that you barely flinched at your husband yelling. His demands to know what was going on entered one ear and out the other.
Your husband was far too kind sometimes. During the duration of your peaceful marriage with him, he was better than those who hurt their partners. This was evident in how he was concerned about you, enough to follow you here. Yet, somehow, you didn’t feel any remorse in loving someone else behind his back nor felt dread when Manjiro got behind him, his legs smooth and muscled. Everything about the merman was as deadly as the sharp nails that sliced your husband’s throat, causing him to bleed and fall. The stream carried off his lifeline to the shores where it would attract more merfolk to the island, enticing them. But screw them for Manjiro would eliminate anything that gets in his way.
The death of your husband did not cause an uproar much to your surprise. Manjiro was already quite known in the village by the time you returned home, a widow but at the same time, a woman who was about to spend the rest of her life with the man she truly loved.
Correction, merman.
The day you got your first morning sickness was the very same day everyone in the village recognized Manjiro as your one and only husband. Your first husband—wait, did you even have another husband other than Manjiro? All you ever remembered is Manjiro. There was no way a human could love you as much as he could.
Manjiro, Manjiro, Manjiro—everything has gone smoothly according to his plan, all for his pretty human. Perhaps you were a deadlier obsession that the merman himself.
🎐taglist: @ranilingus @cryptred @wakaslut @marism @wakasa-wifey @zuuki @stffychn @keijisprettygirl @bunnyjiros @tobidabio @leavemealonebutinpink @eroscastle @kamisoria @httphaitani @chloee0x0 @sanzucide @tokyometronetwork @riszu
#pat.✍️fics#tokyo revengers smut#tr smut#tokrev smut#tokyo revengers x reader smut#tokyo revengers x you smut#mikey x y/n#mikey smut#sano manjiro x reader#manjiro smut#manjiro sano smut#sano manjiro smut#tw.breeding#tw.blood#tw.monsterfucking#tw.manipulation#tw.murder#tw.unprotected sex#tw.dubcon#tw.dark content#tw.cheating#tw.oviposition
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Honestly thinking about Fugo drives me up the goddamn wall sometimes like-- Like--
The gang were his family. He was with Buccellati the longest out of anyone, and he loved and admired him, and he helped bring the rest of the gang together, and he was such close friends with Mista and Narancia and they goofed off and did stupid teenage shit and choreographed little dances
And he'd grown so used to A. His boss being generally very sensible and caring for them all and B. His boss coming to him for advice
And then one day someone shows up and just... Takes over leadership basically entirely. Just. Has so much influence over the man who practically raised Fugo. And immediately starts directing him towards what is basically guaranteed death for at least some of them
When Fugo stays behind, digs his heels in and says "No, this is a bad idea, someone's going to get killed" don't you think he thinks, deep down, that Buccellati will listen to him? Will snap out of whatever rose-tinted glasses he's put on and take the advice of the person he's been relying on this whole time?
Because Fugo is smart, Fugo is rational, Fugo advises Buccellati and helps keep everyone safe, just as Buccellati helps Fugo not do anything impulsive out of anger. They know each-other and balance each-other and they TRUST each-other. And Fugo was looking for that trust. In that moment don't you think he expected that Buccellati would trust him?
And instead he gets left behind on the shore basically without a second thought. Just. "Okay. We won't force you. Bye." From his best friends. From the man that has been with him since he was a lost, scared little kid in need of a home. Even the boy he rescued from the goddamn streets leaves him behind, not for a noble cause, but for the sake of a girl they just met.
And Fugo was RIGHT, he was correct, they did die, his best friend died, his father figure died. Only One Of his actual friends survived.
There's no triumph in that though. No I-Told-You-So. It's just guilt because he could've saved them. If he hadn't assumed that they'd listen to him, and cared for his input. If he'd somehow known that he was that dispensable and could be left behind without a second thought. He could've gone with and literally just stood in the same room as Diavolo and killed him. Everyone else could stay outside.
Only one of them really had to die for everything to resolve, and that one was Fugo.
Why do you think he was so eager to go rushing to his death for the sake of what little remains of his family in Purple Haze Feedback.
#god im just#im so feral#hes just like me fr fr#i love him so goddamn much#jjba#jojos bizarre adventure#jjba patt 5#jjba fugo#fugo jjba#pannacotta fugo#fugo pannacotta#golden wind#vento aureo#jjba golden wind#jjba gold experience#jjba vento auero#purple haze feedback#jojo#jojo part 5#jojo part five
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What do you think the slashers would get up to in a more normal world where they just got therapy and DIDN'T kill anyone? Like I think Brahms would've become a composer tbh, I headcanon he writes his own music? And Tommy'd probably still just work in the slaughterhouse or, if the slaughterhouse still closed down, as a farmhand??
What if the Slashers never became Slashers?
Thomas Hewitt
If the slaughterhouse never shut down, Thomas would definitely still be working there. It's the only real job available for people in that town, for many it will be their first and last job.
However, if the slaughterhouse still closed down and Charlie didn't instantly jump to cannibalism, Thomas would be eager to get back to work.
I see him working physical labour. Thomas knows that his strengths are, well...he's strength.
I could see him working as a farmhand or in construction of some sort.
Plus, it would really work on his confidence. Having a job where his natural size and strength were something to be proud of, that helps him and makes him effective.
Hopefully he'll get some nicer co-workers...I just want him to be happy.
Michael Myers
Michael is in therapy his whole childhood. His family spot the early signs that cause concern and get him help.
He's still pretty quiet, not super social, but not mute or irresponsive.
I remember reading a post ages ago about Michael receiving effective therapy and receiving consistent support from his family and I wanted to link it here but I couldn't find it again, I feel like that said everything I want to say 😂
Anyway, maybe he still spends some time in Smith's Grove but gets released back into he parent's care.
He develops a really good relationship with Laurie. She grows up visiting him and becomes an encouraging factor in his therapy.
In this universe, I suppose Michael would be a 'functioning psychopath' if that's what you want to call it. He'd still have a personality disorder but he has developed coping mechanisms to help him in life.
It's difficult to say what he might go on to do career wise but I think for Michael it's more important and interesting to think about his interpersonal relationships.
Jason Voorhees
Camp counsellor Jason!
Now, I can see this going two ways.
Firstly, lets say Jason loved camp. He made at least one friend, got to a bunch of fun activities, summer camp was the best time of year for him even if it wasn't perfect.
In this case, Jason would go back to work there so he could give other shy and bullied kids the same experience.
Alternatively, everything went the same expect Jason didn't drown. He was still thrown into the lake, the kids still laughed, the counsellors still weren't around, but he somehow survived.
He would have still hated camp but that would be what motivates him to go and work there.
He wanted it to be better for other kids, to make sure that if another poor child got tossed into the lake, there would be a counsellor around to protect/save them. He would be there for them.
Brahms Heelshire
As much as I love the idea of Brahms becoming a composer, I have to admit that I have less faith in him.
Assuming that his parents still spoiled him beyond belief and let him get away with shit, just no fires or death or anything, Brahms would be a little shit his whole life.
He'd become a rich fuckboi.
He'll have gone to some private school.
He'd have every opportunity to become a composer, so it's absolutely possible, I just imagine he would go through a 'rebellious' phase.
He's smart and I'd imagine he'd get pretty good grades, it will just take him some time to calm down and actually get his mind set on a career.
He's going to be living off of his family's money for a while.
But maybe he ends up being a composer and becomes his best self...
Bo Sinclair
I can see a few options for Bo.
I think he would still be a bit of a wild card in his teenage and young adult years but in the end I think his brothers are still important to him and he would want to stay close.
He might help Vincent run Ambrose a little.
If he does have a genuine passion or talent when it comes to cars, he might become a legit mechanic. I imagine he likes the process of fixing up cars, it gives him something to focus on.
I could also see him owning his own bar, somewhere near Ambrose, he and Vincent sending business each other's way.
Vincent Sinclair
Vincent stays at the wax museum.
He continues his mother's legacy and brings a whole new life to the infamous House of Wax. He modernises the museum while still paying tribute to his mother.
And he does a good job, managing to bring a whole new life to Ambrose again. The tourist just keep coming to visit the House of Wax.
Maybe he even sticks to the Town of Wax idea and fills the abandoned town with wax figures but in a less murdery way.
That would serve to bring more tourists in.
I like the idea that he also sells some of his artwork, kind of like a side hustle.
His main focus is the House of Wax but he occasionally sells his other creations.
Lester Sinclair
Sure, Lester might just stick with his roadkill clean up gig but I think he is likely to remain close to his brothers either way.
I kind of like the idea of Bo being a mechanic and Lester working with him, likely his only employee but Bo can be a bit of a control freak.
Lester is a simple guy and finds joy in the smalls things.
Whatever job he has, he's likely happy with it.
He lives for time at home with Jonesy or dinners with his brothers.
And he's always more than happy to help Vincent out around Ambrose.
Bubba Sawyer
He would love to just work on his family's farm. Family is important to Bubba and I think he would love farm work.
He wouldn't mind working out in the sun, planting and tending to crops.
He doesn't mind the heavy lifting and manual labour.
However, he would love working with the animals.
He would work so well with them and they would love him.
Just imagine Bubba cuddling a little baby cow!!!
Billy Lenz
Hmmm Billy's is kinda difficult.
We don't get to know much about him but I headcanon that he's a big fan of movies and tv.
Maybe he had a part time job in a movie theatre as a teenager, just feeding his love for media.
Anyway, he goes through a shit ton of therapy. And it's effective in this case.
Maybe after leaving the institution he received his care in, he'd go back to school.
Hopefully he will find a passion for something there, starting to develop a more clear plan for his future.
Asa Emory (The Collector)
I mean, I think I've made my stance on this pretty clear.
Professor Emory.
He teaches entomology, of course.
The students either love him or hate him. He's very strict but if you perform well in his class, he'll take that into consideration.
In his time off, he's a pretty secluded person, preferring his own company.
He sticks with his usual hobbies, just with bugs instead of people.
His home is covered in preserved specimens, it's a genuine hobby that hasn't been twisted horrifically.
Jesse Cromeans (Chromeskull)
Jesse likes power and he likes money.
So, with the less psychopathic, sadistic, murderous desires, he's going to be a CEO of some successful business.
It's difficult to picture Jesse in anything but that black suit of his.
However, in that one flashback we get in the second film, it seems that his father was a mortician.
So if certain fetishes hadn't formed, maybe he would take over his father's business, owning his own mortuary.
Otis Driftwood
I think in a world were Otis wasn't already obsessed with death and torture, meeting the Fireflies would have been great for him.
They're an eccentric bunch but they'd love him unconditionally.
Otis doesn't want to do anything big with his life, especially not with his career. He still wants to focus mostly on having fun, so he gets small job to make some money.
Probably working with Spaulding at the gas station or in some dive bar.
That being said, I don't see a world where Otis is a model citizen.
He might not be a murder in this universe but he has a history of violence, stupid bar fights and the like. He's also a bit of a petty thief.
If some drunk leaves his wallet on the bar...he can't not take it.
Baby Firefly
The last thing Baby wants to do it work. She just wants to focus as much time as she can on having fun.
Plus, she can't stay focused on one thing long enough to hold down a job with a real boss.
She knows how to get things for free, how to get other people to pay for things, how to get her family to give her what she needs.
It's in her name! She's the baby of the family, they'd do anything for her.
Her and Otis have mastered the art of petty theft.
The two of them can be quite the con artists when they put their mind to it.
However, I can see her doing the hair, makeup, and nails of local women in the area for some pocket money.
#thomas hewitt x reader#michael myers x reader#jason voorhees x reader#brahms heelshire x reader#bo sinclair x reader#vincent sinclair x reader#lester sinclair x reader#bubba sawyer x reader#billy lenz x reader#asa emory x reader#the collector x reader#jesse cromeans x reader#chromeskull x reader#otis driftwood x reader#baby firefly x reader#slashers x reader#slasher x reader#slasher#slashers#my writing
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Homecoming | Haldir x Reader
Pairing: Haldir/Reader
Read on AO3
Summary: Haldir returns with the rest of the survivors from Helm’s Deep and, deciding he has wasted enough precious time, confesses his feelings to you.
Prompt: (inspired by this post by @oneofmanyinterests - hopefully that’s okay!)
Tags: @achromaticerebus, @desert-fern, @firelightinferno, @weepingdreammarvel, @silverrose365
The woods of Lothlórien were quiet, almost as if the trees were in mourning. Indeed, things had been a little solemn since the soldiers set out for Helm’s Deep. The Lord and Lady had barely been seen the last couple of weeks and it was said that they were planning the Lady's departure from Middle Earth. You hadn’t given a lot of thought to sailing west, not of late at least. You couldn’t. All your thoughts had been fixed upon one very specific thing.
Or one very specific ellon.
Haldir had gone with the others to Helm’s Deep. He had gone to fight alongside the men there and, while you knew it was a noble and decent thing they had all done, your thoughts had been quite sorrowful since they left.
You and Haldir were such good friends and you couldn’t hide your worry. Your fear that he might not return. Truthfully, you were more than just good friends... at least on your part. You had harboured feelings towards him for a very long time now but you would not speak of it for fear of ruining the friendship you held so dear. Having him as a friend was better than not having him at all.
The sky was cloudy and you were high up in a tree this day, having sought solitude from the moment the sun had risen. At first you had sat in silence, thinking you would listen to the birds but the forest was so quiet that soon you could not bear it. So you had soon risen your voice in song as you were often wont to do.
It was this song that the weary Galadhrim returned to that day. It lifted their hearts a little even as their minds mourned that which they had lost. Their fellow soldiers. Friends. Not everybody had returned and the journey home from Helm's Deep had been a somber one.
Haldir, usually a leader, had drifted towards the back of the group. It was because of him, of course, that they were quite late in returning to Lórien. He had been terribly injured in that fight and, truthfully, he had thought he would die there. However, upon discovering he was alive, Aragorn and one of the elven healers who had survived, tended him and slowly but surely he had woken. The rest of the surviving elves had refused to return home without their Marchwarden.
The song they heard as they walked through the wood was beautiful and while it did bring them a little hope, for Haldir it made him feel like he had finally come home - and it was only now that he realised his home was a person, not a place.
Veering off from the other elves, he had walked beneath the trees until he found the one you were sitting in. You did not notice him at first and he stood there for a long few moments, simply listening.
When you finally realised you were no longer alone, you cast your curious gaze downwards and Haldir watched as the recognition caused a bright smile to break out over your beautiful face.
"Haldir!" You could have cried. He was here! He was home! He was alive!
"I hope you have not been sitting up there since I left." He teased lightly, the weight upon his shoulders lifting a little. He recalled you sitting in this very tree the morning they had all set off.
"And if I have?" You teased back with a smile, your worry melting away as it was replaced with utter relief to be looking upon his face once more.
You both fell silent for a few moments then, looking back at each other, the Marchwarden and the one he had loved for more years than he cared to count. It occurred to him then that he had wasted quite a lot of time. Never mind the fact that he had all the time in the world - or thought he had, before his very recent brush with death.
“Will you come down?” He asked.
“Why don’t you come up?” You retorted, smiling.
Haldir laughed and then nodded, moving to climb the tree, settling beside you in the sturdy branches.
Your smile had faded away as you watched him, noting the slight strain he had attempted to fully conceal from you. When he looked up next, you were frowning.
“What happened?” You asked softly.
Haldir shook his head, casting his gaze over the forest for a long moment, the memory of the battle fresh in his minds eye.
“Not all of us returned.” He murmured, neglecting to give you any information on his own injuries at this moment. He had healed enough, just the slightest twinge remained and that too, would soon be gone.
You looked back at him sadly, before you reached over and placed a hand upon his arm. “But you did.”
Haldir nodded, his smile returning, brightening his beautiful face. “Yes. I did.”
“Good.” You said, giving his hand a squeeze and lowering your gaze. “I do not know what I would have done...”
Haldir smiled at you gently, the tips of his ears pinkening slightly as his mind flickered to what he truly wished to say but somehow found it felt as if the words had frozen in his throat as he tried to get them out.
You noticed he seemed uncomfortable and tilted your head slightly. “Does something trouble you?”
Haldir smiled slightly at how well you could read him. It had been such for a very long time. The two of you had a kind of synchronicity that had come from your long years of friendship...
...but what if that’s all it was?
What if his feelings were not returned and he lost you? He was not sure he would be able to get past that. Still, he also felt that he could not continue to keep this inside, not now, so he lifted his gaze back to your face and took a deep breath.
“Yes.” He nodded. “Something troubles me greatly.”
You frowned immediately and reached out for his hand. You took it in your own and gave it a reassuring squeeze, wondering if it was something to do with what he had just left, what he had faced at Helm’s Deep, that was paining him. “What is it? Tell me, I can help.”
Haldir’s lips twitched at that and he nodded again. “Yes, I think that you may be the only one who could help.”
You gave him a questioning look at that, raising a confused eyebrow, but you didn’t say anything - allowing for him to continue.
The way Haldir said your name next made you shiver a little, though he didn’t really notice as he was now too caught up in getting the words out before he completely missed his chance.
“When I left Lórien for Helm’s Deep, I could not know whether or not we would come back. Many did not. They are gone and, truthfully, I was almost one of them.” He sighed, his thoughts moving once more to the elvish life that had been lost there.
You absently brushed your thumb over his knuckles, bringing him back to the present moment.
Haldir’s attention blinked back up at you and his heart was in his eyes.
“I realise now that I have wasted so much time. I have-” The briefest hesitation and then he tumbled over the cliff and it was too late to try and climb back up. “I have loved you for many centuries.”
Your breath caught in your throat as you stared back at him in shock. He... he loved you? He had loved you for... so long? How could you not have noticed? How could he not have said a word!
Though you reminded yourself that you felt the same and you had not said a word either.
Haldir mistook your stunned silence for something it wasn’t and ducked his head briefly, embarrassment flooding through him as he gently peeled his hand from your grasp. Inwardly, he chastised himself. He should have just kept his mouth closed! He had no doubt lost your much treasured friendship.
“I apologise.” He muttered, hiding his dismay behind his usual stoic exterior. “I should not have spoken on it. I did not mean.... I will leave you to--”
“Haldir.” You breathed his name in such a way that made him quickly look back up at you. You had tears in your eyes and, even heartbroken, he could not stand to see you cry - he lifted his hand and gently brushed away the tears as they fell. Though, the next words out of your mouth made him freeze in position, almost not fully comprehending.
“I have loved you the same.” You admitted, gazing back at him with nothing but adoration, watching the soft frown fall away from his expression, his mouth falling open in surprise.
Haldir felt as though his heart could burst right out of his chest with the amount of joy he felt at those six words. He threw all caution to the wind as he gathered you into his arms and just held you for a long moment, in complete disbelief that you could love him as he loved you!
Then, he pulled back, gently framed your face with his hands and leaned in to kiss you.
You were not sure you had the words to fully explain what you felt as he kissed you. Actually kissed you! Haldir! Kissing you! It was unfathomable.
However you were quick to participate, deepening the kiss and pouring all of your emotions into the act. You did not want him to be at all uncertain of your feelings.
Eventually, you both pulled back, a little breathless. Haldir chuckled, looking back at you with complete awe. He caressed your face gently and then let go, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you close to him.
There the two of you sat for a long while, just basking in the glow of your shared emotions. Your love. You sat with your head on his shoulder, his arm around you, and you had never felt better in your whole life.
Soon, you began to sing again.
As Haldir held you close, listening to your beautiful voice fill the air around him, he felt it once more.
He had finally come home.
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Van Helsing Retold - four
pairings: vamp hunter!reader x vamp!bucky
Summary: Under the cover of night, vampires and their hunters have been at war for centuries, never letting their bloodshed reach the light of day. That is until the wife of a powerful vampire leader, Steve Rogers is murdered and he demands revenge. Y/N Van Helsing is the target of his crusade and she comes face to face with his right hand man, Bucky Barnes.
Warnings: cursing, mentions of death
Word count: 2.9k
three | series masterlist
Tag list: @vonalyn @hidden-treasures21 @cakesandtom @nerdytif @teambarnes72
disclaimer:credits to original creator/poster of image/gif. found on Google/Pinterest.
“Is she always this stubborn?” Bucky asks without looking back to Sam who’s returned from dropping off the she in question.
“Sometimes but we did just tell her that her entire life has been a lie,” Sam pauses, “why didn’t you tell her about being her mate?”
Bucky takes in a deep shaky breath as he stares at his hands that are clasped between his knees.
“I don’t see how that would’ve gone well for either of us. I half expected her to pull out a stake when I released her from my persuasion.”
“But she needs to know,” Sam urges.
“Don’t you think I know that?” He snaps back with an edge in his voice, “Don’t you think I know that I could help her but she won’t let me? It kills me to know that all it would take is for her to drink some of my blood and she would be healthy again. She would be safe but she doesn’t want anything to do with me. I can feel that hatred radiating from her when she sees me.”
Sam purses his lips for a moment before coming to sit next to Bucky, “She’s scared Bucky. She doesn’t want to die and she definitely doesn’t want to be the one thing she’s been taught to kill. You might be right in that she hates what you are but not who you are. None of that matters though because she’s terrified and her only chance at survival is one that she’s too afraid to take.”
Bucky can feel the heartbreak that Y/N is trying to ignore as she turns restlessly in her bed down the hall. He yearns to go to her and comfort her, lay next to her and take away any pain that she has.
But she would sooner kill him than accept any affection from him.
“I’ve never seen her hesitate the way she does with you; it’s her training fighting against her instinct and she’s never had that before. They’ve always been the same thing but with you, she hesitates, she fights against everything she knows,” Sam continues, “I’m not saying barge into her room right now and express your undying love for her but be honest with her. Tell her about your bond and tell her that you don’t expect anything, you wanted her to know so that everything is on the table. Give her the chance to fight her training and choose you.”
Sleep and I need to have an open and honest conversation because this whole flopping like a fish for hours on end is not cutting it. It’s been at least 6 hours of this and I’m starting to think that sleep will never come.
I tell myself that it’s because of what they told me about my mom or the fact that I’m a vampire safehouse (I can only assume so) but that’s not it. Nothing that I would be willing to openly admit is the cause of my restlessness. The true cause is the empty cavern that sits inside my heart and the gnawing feeling of barrenness that accompanies it. There’s a tug and small flood of warmth that follows but in its wake are more crushing feelings of nothingness.
I curl into a ball and tuck myself as close to the wall as I can. The kid in me hopes that if I make myself small enough, I’ll disappear but I know that won’t happen. No amount of shrinking could make me or these…feelings go away. They will always be there and the only time they lessen, if only for a moment, is when I’m near him.
There’s a shuffle outside of my door and a pause before a small knock. The person doesn’t come in and I groan as I lift my head enough to tell them they can, in fact, come in. Still facing the wall, I don’t see who it is and honestly I can’t find it in myself to guess. Whoever it is, takes a hesitant seat at the foot of the bed, just far enough away to not touch me or invade my space. I’m grateful for it but say nothing. They shift, causing the bed to groan under their weight. I can’t feel their eyes on me but I can hear the anxiety in their breathing.
“Sam, please don’t,” I start but the person interrupts me.
“Not Sam,” Bucky’s voice is small and timid, like a child too afraid of being scolded to speak any louder.
I still but the cavern inside of my heart feels like it’s beginning to fill in and I relax as much as I can at the welcomed feeling.
“Why are you here?”
“There’s…there’s more I wanted to tell you.”
I don’t say anything, waiting for him to continue but he doesn’t. Turning over so I can at least face him and he’s waiting for me to give him approval to speak like he did when he knocked. He’s just barely sitting on the edge of the bed. Almost to the point of falling off as he leans his forearms on his Jean clad thighs. He’s put on a black sweatshirt which surprises me. Vamps don’t get cold but here before me is an example of how wrong I am about his kind.
“If it has to do with my mom, I’d rather not know.”
His downcast gaze and long lashes hide his eyes from me but they flicker over to me for a moment before casting back to the ground.
“It's not about that.”
“Then what is it?” I know my voice isn’t as gentle as it should be and I immediately regret not fixing my tone as he flinches ever so slightly.
The faint sound of metal clinging together draws my attention to his hands where one ring sits. The sound came from him rubbing that ring against a bracelet tucked under his sleeve. Most vamos do wear jewelry but it’s usually massive and flashy to show off their wealth. It’s unusual to see such a plain signet ring and even more plain silver cuff. I’m half tempted to ask about them but I don’t. I don’t want to know anymore about him. I don’t want to know anything about him that would humanize him and validate the warmth that the vacancy in my chest.
“The bond can heal you,” he starts as he lets out a deep sigh, “it’ll hurt but it’ll stop the infection and you'll be healthy again.”
I push my blanket off of me and sit with my back against the wall. My legs are folded under me and I allow my eyes to settle on his back.
“How do we find my mate then, if I even have one? I know you’re supposed to feel something drawing you towards them and werewolves can scent theirs but I’m not a vamp. I’m still human.”
Bucky doesn’t say a word or let out a breath for that matter.
“Bucky?”
Nothing.
“Bucky?”
Of course he chooses the silent treatment during the worst possible fucking moment. Of course he would be that big of an asshole to do something like this….
Oh.
Oh.
Oh my god.
Oh my fucking god.
“What do you mean you can’t find her?” John’s angry voice threatens to burst everyone’s ear drums. The crowd that’s gathered inside of the Guild shrinks back at the sound of his voice.
“What the fuck do you mean you can’t find her?”
The man who John is yelling at, tries to stand tall but it’s nearly impossible.
“She was resting and Sam Wilson was watching over her. During the guard change…”
“I ALREADY KNOW HOW YOU FUCKING LOST HER, WHAT I WANT TO KNOW IS HOW YOU CANT FIND HER!”
The man squeezes his eyes shut, “she went into the Masked Club and after that the trail went cold. There are no other leads for us to follow.”
“Fucking pathetic,” John spits at the shaking man. He spins, giving the man a false sense of relief, before he turns back and throws a stake at his heart. The man stumbles back from the impact and chokes as he falls to the ground.
“Let that piece of shit be a warning to all of you; find Y/N Van Helsing and Sam Wilson or you will end up with a stake in your chest.”
No.
This simply cannot be.
This simply cannot be possible.
The panic must be evident in my rapid breathing because Bucky barely tilts his head to look at me. His face softens and he turns his body to face me, his hands reaching out to comfort me but they fall to the bed. He searches my face for anything at all but all he would find is sheer confusion and panic.
“Talk to me,” he gently whispers to me.
I can’t though. I can’t get the words out. I can’t get my mouth or tongue to work. I can’t get my lungs to expand or my brain to function. All I can do is look at him with bewilderment.
“I…I’m sorry. I didn’t want you to find out this way but you need to know everything if I expect you to trust me.”
I stare at him.
I stare at the vampire who’d saved me at least twice.
I stare at the vampire who I'd only known for maybe a week but who has still taken up all of my mental space.
I stare at the man who I felt a strange sense of overwhelming comfort and safety when I’m around him.
I stare at the man who is offering to risk death to save me, someone who should’ve killed him that first night.
I stare at Bucky, the man who I know to be my mate, and I can’t find the strength to say anything to him.
“I’m not telling you this to manipulate you if that’s what you’re thinking.”
“How long have you known?” The words feel heavy in my mouth, like I haven’t spoken in years.
“Since the night you killed Peggy.”
I raise my eyebrows, “what did it feel like?”
“Like my entire world was falling apart and I couldn’t stop it but it didn’t matter because I’d finally found…you.”
my brows knit together at his sincerity and I have a million questions I want to ask, alas none of them come out.
It seems as though he can read my mind and answer the most pressing, “some humans will feel it too but not always. Sometimes it doesn’t happen until after they’re turned.”
“Would it affect the bond?” I mumble.
He sighs again, “I’m not sure.”
“And it could kill you? Breaking the bond?”
He nods, “but if that's what it takes to keep you safe and healthy, then i'll do it.”
I nod too, slowly and more to myself. Did I feel it that night? Did I feel the bond snap into place? I honestly can’t say that I did but I was also preoccupied with my head wound and Peggy having spit on me. It would make sense if it did and I just didn’t happen to feel it. Given everything I have been feeling, all signs point to that likelihood.
“It doesn’t have to be now or even soon. We can wait until you’re feeling stronger. It’ll take a toll on you too.”
My eyes make a slow ascent from the hand closest to my knee to his pale blue eyes. They're unyielding in the way they hold my attention but yet soft enough that I don’t shy away.
“It’ll kill you.”
“It could.”
“You’ll die,” I whisper as I search for any hesitation in his face.
“But if that's…”he starts and I stop him almost immediately.
“No there’s no ‘if that's what it takes’, Bucky. You can’t sacrifice yourself like this for someone you don’t even know.”
“I do know you.”
I scoff, “no you don’t. Besides would you let me do this for you? Would you let me risk dying to save you?”
He hesitates but shakes his head. He would never dream of letting me do the same for him.
“It’s different with me. I’ve lived my life and you haven’t.”
I lean forward and grip his hand without thinking, “You turned when you were 26, I hardly call that ‘living your life’. I can’t ask you to do this for me no matter what we are to each other.”
Bucky looks at our joined hands and then to me, “did you feel it?”
His eyes flutter shut when I gently squeeze his hand, “did you feel it that night?”
“I don’t… I don’t know.”
My blunt words shock him and he tries to pull his hand away but I clamp down on it.
“That’s not what… that’s not what I meant. I don’t remember feeling anything but a lot happened and now I feel something, I just don’t know what it is.”
He furrows his brows at me, well at the fact I wouldn’t let his hand go, but he keeps the conversation moving, “describe it.”
“Well,it feels like there’s an empty void inside of my chest that wasn’t there before. It’s like a door was unlocked somewhere down the line but I don’t know when and it aches all of the time. My chest, my whole body really, hurts constantly and nothing I do or take makes it go away. At first I thought it was because of my head but it gets better.”
I stop. I can’t say the next part. I can’t admit that. I can’t tell him that.
Bucky begins to rub his thumb over the tops of my knuckles in a soothing way and the words spill out.
“It doesn’t hurt as much when I’m near you. It still gnaws at me but it’s better. It feels better…I feel better.”
“What about the pull?” He asks softly.
I tug at his hand, urging him to come closer and he does. He climbs further into the bed and sits in front of me, his own legs folded under him like mine. Our hands are joined in between us as he keeps his head bent so he can focus on our hands.
“It’s there too. That and the emotions. I think I’ve felt some of your stronger emotions like at the club with Helmut.”
Nodding, Bucky takes a deep breath before flickering his eyes up to mine. His long lashes hide their full intensity from me but nonetheless, it’s there. He holds my half gaze for a moment and I feel a wave of warmth; adoration, comfort, safety…and something more ways over me. My infected hand, ever the cruel reminder of my situation, screams out in both joy and rage.
I think he can feel it too because he drops my other hand to hold just the sickly one. Once again he’s gentle in his motions as he rubs his thumb over the protruding veins and bones.
“Are you happy?” He asks without warning or context.
“Are you happy as a human?” He clarifies.
“Of course,” I say but it’s rather unconvincing. A week ago I would’ve said yes in a heartbeat because I was doing what I thought was my destiny. I am a Van Helsing, the last of the greatest line of Vampire Hunters. Slaying the creatures of the night is in my very DNA and I’m exceptionally good at it. I had been happy before I met him although bored but I was happy…I think.
Now I can’t say for certain. Now one of my hands is infected with venom and it’s slowly starting to unthaw the protections the doctors tried to use. The only way to cure me is to turn or essentially kill the one person the universe chose for me. Now the worst vampire on the American East Coast wants my head on a silver platter while his right hand man sits before me asking me if I’m happy. Now I don’t know what the fuck the word even means and I don’t know how to answer him in a way that’s believable.
“Tell me the truth; are you happy?”
I drop my head, I can't look at him anymore.
“No.”
“Would being free of the venom make you happy?”
“No.”
“Then what would?”
You.
While unspoken, the simple word fills both sides of the bond and wraps us in a cocoon of warmth.
You.
Him.
Me.
Us.
Bucky shakes his head like he’s shaking out the thought, “Your happiness will be found in your freedom.”
I hadn’t noticed that he’d grabbed my chin and was looking me in the eyes when he said that. I hadn’t felt the way of complacency that overcomes me as I nod along with his instructions.
You will remember that we are mates but you will feel no different about me.
You will remember that we are mates but you will go through with the curing of her hand.
You will remember that we are mates but you will not feel anything when I die as a result of the bond being severed.
Next thing I know I’m laying in my ball of blankets again and it’s been hours since I thought I saw Bucky. The cold of his touch still chills my skin but it’s nothing compared to the freezing of the connection between us.
Tears slid down my cheek but I can’t figure out why. I have no reason to cry. I have no reason to care that the connection feels like it’s dying. I have no reason to care about him.
He made sure of that.
#bucky barnes imagine#bucky barnes#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x y/n#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes fic#bucky barnes fanfic#marvel imagine#bucky barnes reader insert#marvel#van helsing retold bucky#van helsing retold bucky barnes#vampire!bucky x reader#vampire bucky barnes#vampire au#vampire
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Tewkesbury x Gn reader, them being both love sick idiots
masterlist
Tewkesbury is meant to be paying attention, but he’s not. Again. Enola’s been trying to brief him on all the latest scatterbrained clues she’s somehow twisting together into one intricate braid of a plan, but it all just sounds like fragments of nothing to him. When Tewkesbury has no idea what’s going on, he zones out. It’s not his fault.
In his defense, there is a lot happening in his life at the moment. If his position in the House of Lords didn’t bring him enough trouble already, because Parliament is an active traincar hurtling towards a new wreck every week, Enola’s gotten them both wound up in yet another murder case. At this point, he wouldn't be surprised if she’s causing these things just to give them a bit of entertainment. It seems likely at least half the time.
There’s something else on his mind, too, if Tewkesbury is in the habit of being honest. Someone, technically. There’s someone who’s come into his life, someone new, someone extraordinary, and the thoughts of where they were and what they were doing recently are far more pleasant thoughts than Enola’s discovery of two bodies with their throats slit.
Someone claps their hands right in front of his eyes and Tewkesbury flinches back, startled. He squints irritably at Enola, who glares right back at him. “What was that for?”
Enola’s scowl has been perfected over practice. “You’re not focusing. I’ve been talking about only the weather for the last three minutes and you never even noticed the abrupt change of subject.”
Tewkesbury frowns. “That would explain why I was suddenly thinking about storm clouds. It is supposed to rain later tonight, though. Excellent observation.”
Enola just huffs, vexed. “I had made several other excellent observations if you were in the habit of listening to me, which you’re not, obviously. So what’s up with you, then?”
He blinks at her in surprise. “What, sorry?”
Enola waves a hand at him in consternation. “You’re pretty clearly preoccupied with something else. What in the world could possibly be more important than another murder case? Has Parliament passed another bloody terrible law, then?”
Tewkesbury shakes his head. “No, not that. Well, yes, they’re always making awful compromises, but that wasn’t what I was thinking of.”
“Then what was it, then?” Enola asks. “Spit it out so we can get back to business. Otherwise you’re just going to go back to thinking about it again.”
“Wise thinking,” Tewkesbury admits. “Very well, then. I was thinking about someone I like.”
He can’t help but smile as he says it at the thought of this particular person. He waits for Enola to do something Enola-like such as swat him on the shoulder or complain to the heavens about why she was burdened with such an easily distracted partner in solving crime, but neither reaction occurs. Instead, she just shrugs and says she figured as much.
It’s funny, he can still remember a time in which Enola would vigorously tease him for so much as mentioning a conversation between himself and someone he was thinking of courting, but no more, it seems. She’s grown up. He has too. They’ve had no choice in the matter, not after what they’ve been through. Time comes for everyone, you either survive or find yourself buried alive in the past. Tewkesbury has been doing his best to continue outrunning the boy he had been, and it appears that Enola has been sprinting just as hard as him.
Regardless, he’s pleased by it. Tewkesbury recently bruised his shoulder and he doesn’t think he’d appreciate a swat aimed in its general direction any time soon.
“So?” Enola prods. “Who’s the mysterious person? I want details. Do I have competition in the solving of crimes? Because if so, you’ll have to let them know that they have to find someone else. I’m not interested in you for a courtship, of course, but I’ve already gone to the trouble of telling you all my clues, I don’t want to have to train anyone else in the matter.”
Tewkesbury snorts. “You’ll have no worries on that front. No, I’m not solving mysteries with this person, and yes, I am courting them. You’re safe on both counts.”
Enola’s brow furrows. “If you’re not solving crimes, why are you possibly interested in them?”
He just barely manages to turn his laugh into a polite cough. “Not all of us are quite so tempted in stabbings and lacerations, Enola. She’s a perfectly lovely person, we get along splendidly. They listen to me talk about plants and I love walking about the town with them.”
She narrows her gaze at him. “You haven’t mentioned a single name thus far. Who is this mysterious interest of yours?”
This time he does snort in disbelief. “You’ve got to be out of your mind if you think I’m telling you any identifying information. You’d stalk them or something.”
“It would only be for your own good,” Enola frowns, “Shame, though. I was sort of thinking about setting you up with one of my friends. They’re tough as nails and very clever in the whole investigation business, I would have thought you’d like them. Perhaps they were too good for you, though, since you won’t take any of this as seriously as you should.”
Tewkesbury rolls his eyes. “I’m sure. Okay, you’ve wrung me of information. Go on with your clues, I’m paying attention this time.”
“Are you sure?” She asks, suspicious.
“Of course I’m sure,” he tells her. He’s not. Mere moments after Enola turns back to her tracings of plaques and hastily scribbled down house addresses, Tewkesbury is thinking fondly of the time they’d walked through the gardens east of this place. There had been the most beautiful medicinal herbs, and absolutely no murders. Truly a wonderful experience.
It would have been a better use of Tewkesbury’s time to have focused, though, because as Enola is reviewing her information, she gasps with a sudden realization and then they have to take off through the streets in search of a key eyewitness they had previously overlooked. That eyewitness turned out to have been behind it all, and then Tewkesbury blinked and found himself being held at gunpoint. How joyous.
The guy’s damn near crazy, leading to Tewkesbury to wonder again why on earth he keeps finding himself mixed up in all of this. He and Enola are both trying to reason with the guy, goading him into dropping his guard at least just a little bit so Enola can get the jump on him, but every time their attacker’s hand dips a millimeter, he raises it just as quickly.
There’s no getting out of this, or so it seems, at least. Every minute, the guy seems more and more inclined to shoot them both and get rid of any evidence that he’d been involved in all this. Out of the corner of his eye, Tewkesbury catches a flash of motion, but it’s probably just wishful thinking. The two of them had set off in quite a rush for the eyewitness’ location in the hopes of hearing useful clues before the police or other investigators could catch up to them, which unfortunately means that no one will be coming to save them.
Or, perhaps that might not be the case after all. The flicker of movement comes again, this time not from Tewkesbury’s side but in front of him. A silhouette emerges from the gloom behind their attacker. Tewkesbury does his best to keep his gaze firmly trained on the guy waving a gun at him, which isn’t too difficult to do, just to make sure the murderer doesn’t catch onto their rescuer before any saving of lives can occur.
The blink of an eye; the shine of dim lighting on wood, and then their would-be killer is out like a light, limbs sprawling on the ground. The gun doesn’t go off, thankfully, and Tewkesbury kicks it under a nearby table and out of harm's way as soon as he can.
While he’s handling the weapon, he hears Enola’s voice rise with delight. “And here I thought we were the only ones in this case! Y/N, you’re the best.”
“Just like always, huh?” Their rescuer says, and then Tewkesbury’s whipping around, unable to hide the thrilled grin on his face.
“Y/N?” He asks, confused but wonderfully happy.
They’re grinning at him too, even more so when Tewkesbury rushes forward to wrap his arms around them, spinning them off of the ground in one excited loop. It’s not too proper of him, of course, but there is no one to see them here but Enola, and he really, really, likes seeing Y/N, especially when they’re saving him from death by bullet.
Enola is still definitely here, though, and she’s staring between Tewkesbury and Y/N as if she’s lost her mind. “I’m sorry, when did the two of you ever know each other? Least of all well enough to do all of that?”
Tewkesbury laughs. “I believe I forgot to do introductions. Enola, this is Y/N, the person I was speaking of earlier.”
Enola’s jaw drops. “You’re courting Y/N L/N? No. No, they would have told me. Y/N, why didn’t you tell me?”
Y/N just grins. “You’re the master detective, I assumed I wouldn’t have to tell you.”
Something is dawning on Tewkesbury, and he looks between Y/N and Enola with mounting levels of shock. “Wait, Enola, when you said you were sad to hear I was courting someone because you wanted to set me up with your friend, did you mean Y/N?”
“Yes,” Enola confirms, “I didn’t realize you were actually seeing them, though.”
He nods. “Do you take back what you said about them being too good for me, then?”
“No,” Enola says cheerfully.
Y/N grins. “I’m just glad to hear I’m highly thought of.”
Enola harrumphs. “Tewkesbury’s also highly thought of, apparently. Y/N can’t stop talking to me about this fantastic boy they’ve been seeing, how he’s just wonderful and courteous and brilliant and whatnot. They wouldn’t tell me a name either.”
Tewkesbury looks at Y/N with a grin, who’s conspicuously not meeting his eyes. “You said all those nice things about me to Enola? Really?”
“No need to bring it up again,” they whisper, but he couldn’t care less.
“I think we should bring it up more often, actually,” he tells them, “again and again. I’ll tell you all the wonderful things I told Enola about you. It’ll be a deal.”
Y/N is smiling at him again, blinding and beautiful, and it’s more than enough to convince Tewkesbury to ignore Enola in the back talking about how she’d rather get shot by the murderer than listen to the two of them keep up this nonsense any longer.
The comment does serve to remind Tewkesbury of their purpose here, though. There’s no reason to stick around any longer, and Enola heads out quickly to alert the police of the murderer trying to kill them. That leaves Tewkesbury and Y/N to leave the building by themselves.
Tewkesbury sticks his head out the door with a grimace. “It’s raining,” he tells them.
Y/N frowns. “Drat. I’d worry about my clothes, but I smudged them already trying to grab something heavy to beat that guy with.”
“And you did a marvelous job with the beating,” Tewkesbury promises them. “Completely worth the cost of the clothes.”
He steps out into the rain and extends a hand to them. Y/N accepts it with a smile, allowing him to pull them into a spin before coming to him again. They’ve danced with each other before at various functions and galas, but this time is more fun, more free.
The rain drums on the rooftops, providing them with all the melody they’ll ever need. Tewkesbury listens to the patter of their feet on the road, the laughter echoing between the two of them. He watches Y/N’s arms raise as they spin, how their hand fits perfectly in his every time. He looks, and he smiles, and he thinks that he would be absolutely content with this being forever. He never wants to leave this moment, and for now, at least, he never will. The rain beats on, and the two of them dance.
enola holmes tag list: @mayfieldss
#tewkesbury#tewkesbury imagines#tewkesbury x reader#tewkesbury oneshot#enola holmes#enola holmes imagines#enola holmes x reader#enola holmes oneshot#enola holmes tewkesbury#enola holmes tewkesbury imagines#enola holmes tewkesbury x reader#enola holmes tewkesbury oneshot
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