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nerdpoe · 7 months

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The Disappearance of Timothy Drake-Wayne, and how Watcher Mystery Files solved it in one episode.

Wrote it for a warm up, freaked out because I didn't know how to end it, copped out, wrote Omegaverse instead, finished another story, circled back to this one.

Anyways this was inspired by this post right here from @thebeeswantarson

it looks like this go reblog it

Alright here we go.

When the nosebleeds had started, Tim hadn’t really thought anything of it.

He’d waved away concerned friends and family, shoved tissues (and tampons, on one memorable occasion) up his nose, and gone about his day.

Then the migraines. Oh, the migraines.

After the increased migraines, increased stomach issues, and a few fainting spells that had even Bruce cornering him and demanding he see a doctor, Tim had acquiesced.

And the result after many CATscans and MRIs?

Nothing. No tumors, no signs of disease, normal bloodwork-nothing physical was wrong.

Nothing magical, either. He’d gone to some JLD members to ensure that.

After consulting with his small team of doctors, they finally managed to pinpoint what was driving his body to rebel against itself.

Stress.

Fucking stress.

Like some sort of swooning Victorian maiden, but with all the swooning and none of the cocaine.

So.

Tim had written email to his friends and family, sent them off, and proceeded to completely detach from the world around him in his most well-kept secret bunker.

Tim knew himself, and if he maintained contact with anyone then he’d inevitably go back to working on cases and undoing the de-stressing he was attempting.

He hadn’t been sure if it would work, or if the stress of not being able to connect to the others or work on cases would make things worse, but it had. Unorthodox, yes, but it worked! He’d relaxed and caught up on sleep!

But fully rested, and also more than a little bored, he knew it was time to get back into the swing of things.

Mournfully, Tim bid his state-of-the-art bunker goodbye and started going through the multiple airlocks to get outside.

The absolute second he stepped out, though, the air rippled and Kon was immediately there.

Kon looked…disheveled.

His hair was a wreck, he only had one sleeve of his jacket on, and…were those tear tracks?

Why was Kon crying?

Fuck, had the zombie apocalypse started while he’d been away?

Tim held out his hands in a calming motion, not breaking eye contact.

“It’ll be okay Kon; we can figure out what the cure is for the Zombie Plague.” Tim didn’t actually know if he could figure it out, but he didn’t want Kon to freak out anymore than he already was.

Tim’s hands were pushed aside in favor of being swept into an all-consuming hug, and-yup. Kon absolutely was crying into his shoulder.

Tim was officially concerned.

“Is Bart okay? Is Cassie okay? Kon, who’s hurt, what happened-“

“You, Rob. You’re okay. Shut up, I’m having a moment.”

Tim was even more confused, but that was alright; his brain started working without him.

Kon was crying, and emphasizing that Tim was okay. Kon had not realized that Tim was fine, ergo Kon had not received the email Tim had sent out.

Then Tim’s brain went Tim Big Brain.

Normally, a misconception like that would have been cleared up right away by someone else with correct information. But it hadn’t been cleared up at all, and Kon was never quiet about trying to save someone.

Thus, no one had known any different to what Kon had believed. No one had known to correct the misconception that he had found himself immersed in.

Therefore, the emails had not been sent out.

…

The…emails had not been sent out.

Oh fuck him the emails had not been sent out and he went on his merry way to an unlisted bunker with soundproofing for six fucking months.

“You were supposed to receive an email,” Tim muttered, horrified, as his arms wrapped around Kon as well.

Kon snorted wetly.

“Well I didn’t, and neither did anyone else.”

“Yeah, I kinda get that now. I’m in…so much trouble.”

Kon nodded into Tim’s shoulder, smearing snot and tears into his shirt. Tim didn’t even complain.

He was too busy realizing just how badly he was in for it.

~~~~~~

Bruce could feel the conversation he was trying to have begin to turn into another fight.

Dick was insisting that Ra’s Al Ghul had to be the one who had taken Tim, and had roped Damian in on it.

The problem was that there was no real concrete evidence that Ra’s had taken Tim, and Bruce refused to let them move in without intel on, at the very minimum, where Tim could have been taken.

Dick, naturally, was not happy with that answer.

Bruce, of course, refused to lose any more of his children. Especially if it was something he could have easily prevented.

“Father, if Grandfather has Drake it is only a matter of time before irreparable damage is done. We must move quickly.”

Bruce shook his head, standing more firmly in front of his oldest and youngest.

Dick looked ready to explode.

“Get out of the way, Bruce. I’m getting Tim.” Dick’s stance was tense, and his words moreso.

Bruce had no doubt this would devolve into a physical confrontation if he did not ed-escalate.

He opened his mouth to do just that when, with a shrill beeping sound, Oracle chimed in.

“Uh, guys? I think I just found Tim.”

Bruce felt something inside of himself relax, and didn’t bother to stop Dick and Damian as they charged past him to crowd the Batcomputer.

“Oracle, report; where is he?” Was he safe? Did he need help?

“About that…”

“Babs please!” Dick begged, knuckles white from where he gripped the console.

“He’s currently outrunning the paparazzi and a literal mob of Gothamites with phones.”

Bruce…had no idea how to respond to that.

Neither did Dick, apparently.

“They’re all livestreaming, so like; tracking him isn’t an issue,” Oracle supplied, like that made things make more sense.

The screen blinked, and four separate video feeds from random Gothamites showed Tim running from them at different angles.

“…Agent A, I believe it’d be best for you to pick him up.”

All eyes were on Tim; it would be weird if Batman swooped down to retrieve him.

~~~~~~

When Tim had Kon drop him off, he had been expecting maybe a second look or two when he stepped out of that alley.

What Kon may have neglected to mention, however, was that the disappearance of Timothy Drake-Wayne was all anyone had been talking about for four months. There were a lot of theories, but the most prevalent happened to be the most gruesome.

Popular theory one; Bruce Wayne murdered Timothy Drake-Wayne in cold blood after Timothy made a decision with Wayne Enterprises that infuriated the man.

Popular theory two; Timothy Drake-Wayne was being held for ransom, and Bruce Wayne was refusing to pay it. Effectively, it was the same as theory one but with more steps.

Popular theory three; Timothy Drake-Wayne had been captured by Gotham’s underbelly and sold into human trafficking.

And the fourth most popular theory; Timothy Drake-Wayne was abducted by aliens.

So when Tim stepped out of that alley, it wasn’t to an occasional second glance.

It was to excited whispers and impromptu livestreaming.

Naturally, Tim bolted.

He’d outrun one mob, only to run into another one. His face was all over the internet, he knew, and there was no way Barbara hadn’t caught on.

He hadn’t been paying attention to where he was going, really, and made the worst mistake he could have made at that particular point in time.

He ran in front of Wayne Enterprises.

There were two guys, presumably talking about his disappearance. One was average height, the other was tall, and both were clearly not from Gotham.

He heard tiny snatches of their conversation as he got closer, pinned the California accents, and shoved past them with a half shouted apology.

“Well would’ja lookit that, Ryan; looks like it just solved itself!”

“How?!”

Tim let them fall into the background and used his new bearings to beeline for Crime Alley.

After all, only idiots would follow someone into Crime Alley.

Unfortunately, after twenty minutes Tim was forced to admit that the general populace of Gotham probably wasn’t on the scale of normal he had been depending on.

They had indeed followed him all the way into Crime Alley.

So he tried to lose them even harder.

He shoved between muggers and their victims, blew through obvious drug deals, and jumped over the tables hosting poker games so intense that the players were fingering their weapons.

Still, the crowd followed him.

Tim took three quick turns, prepared to take a fourth, and was snatched out of the street and into an old building.

The hold was meant for restraint, and Tim couldn’t break out of it without making a lot of noise, which he really didn’t want to do.

Plus, he recognized the arms latched around him and keeping him in place.

“Thanks Hood,” Tim whisper-panted.

The arms got tighter.

“Kid, do you have any idea how many ops I blew searching for you?”

Oh.

Oh no.

“Was absolutely convinced trafficker filth had gotten their hands on my kid brother,” Hood continued quietly, the mechanical rasp making his words deceptively collected, “So I went ahead and destroyed some of my only leads on the off chance that I’d find him.”

Tim felt himself start to break out in a cold sweat.

“So…you need help picking up your old trails?”

“’Help’ feels wrong. I’m owed it, Timmers.”

~~~~~~

‘Timothy Drake-Wayne Returns from the Dead!’

Tim thought that the newspapers were, quite possibly exaggerating just a little.

Just like his family was overreacting.

He was to wear at least four trackers at all times, he had to check in four times a day, he had to help Red Hood with picking back up the case load he’d all but set on fire in search of Tim, and he had to take Damian wherever their youngest wanted to go.

Apparently, the Little Demon had been so concerned that Ra’s Al Ghul had Tim that he’d started having nightmares.

And Tim wasn’t gonna lie, he felt beyond shitty for that. Well, that and everything else.

He’d also been forced to tell Bruce the location of every single one of his bunkers.

He’d sulk but…Tim also kind of felt like the worlds biggest asshole.

So.

He’d just…remember to actually hit send, not save, next time.

#batman #red robin #superboy #nightwing #red hood #watchers #ryan bergera #shane madej #brief cameo but it's there #fanfic #tim drake #kon-el #jason todd #dick grayson #bruce wayne #damian wayne

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lisafication · 11 months

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For those who might happen across this, I'm an administrator for the forum 'Sufficient Velocity', a large old-school forum oriented around Creative Writing. I originally posted this on there (and any reference to 'here' will mean the forum), but I felt I might as well throw it up here, as well, even if I don't actually have any followers.

This week, I've been reading fanfiction on Archive of Our Own (AO3), a site run by the Organisation for Transformative Works (OTW), a non-profit. This isn't particularly exceptional, in and of itself — like many others on the site, I read a lot of fanfiction, both on Sufficient Velocity (SV) and elsewhere — however what was bizarre to me was encountering a new prefix on certain works, that of 'End OTW Racism'. While I'm sure a number of people were already familiar with this, I was not, so I looked into it.

What I found... wasn't great. And I don't think anyone involved realises that.

To summarise the details, the #EndOTWRacism campaign, of which you may find their manifesto here, is a campaign oriented towards seeing hateful or discriminatory works removed from AO3 — and believe me, there is a lot of it. To whit, they want the OTW to moderate them. A laudable goal, on the face of it — certainly, we do something similar on Sufficient Velocity with Rule 2 and, to be clear, nothing I say here is a critique of Rule 2 (or, indeed, Rule 6) on SV.

But it's not that simple, not when you're the size of Archive of Our Own. So, let's talk about the vagaries and little-known pitfalls of content moderation, particularly as it applies to digital fiction and at scale. Let's dig into some of the details — as far as credentials go, I have, unfortunately, been in moderation and/or administration on SV for about six years and this is something we have to grapple with regularly, so I would like to say I can speak with some degree of expertise on the subject.

So, what are the problems with moderating bad works from a site? Let's start with discovery— that is to say, how you find rule-breaching works in the first place. There are more-or-less two different ways to approach manual content moderation of open submissions on a digital platform: review-based and report-based (you could also call them curation-based and flag-based), with various combinations of the two. Automated content moderation isn't something I'm going to cover here — I feel I can safely assume I'm preaching to the choir when I say it's a bad idea, and if I'm not, I'll just note that the least absurd outcome we had when simulating AI moderation (mostly for the sake of an academic exercise) on SV was banning all the staff.

In a review-based system, you check someone's work and approve it to the site upon verifying that it doesn't breach your content rules. Generally pretty simple, we used to do something like it on request. Unfortunately, if you do that, it can void your safe harbour protections in the US per Myeress vs. Buzzfeed Inc. This case, if you weren't aware, is why we stopped offering content review on SV. Suffice to say, it's not really a realistic option for anyone large enough for the courts to notice, and extremely clunky and unpleasant for the users, to boot.

Report-based systems, on the other hand, are something we use today — users find works they think are in breach and alert the moderation team to their presence with a report. On SV, this works pretty well — a user or users flag a work as potentially troublesome, moderation investigate it and either action it or reject the report. Unfortunately, AO3 is not SV. I'll get into the details of that dreadful beast known as scaling later, but thankfully we do have a much better comparison point — fanfiction.net (FFN).

FFN has had two great purges over the years, with a... mixed amount of content moderation applied in between: one in 2002 when the NC-17 rating was removed, and one in 2012. Both, ostensibly, were targeted at adult content. In practice, many fics that wouldn't raise an eye on Spacebattles today or Sufficient Velocity prior to 2018 were also removed; a number of reports suggest that something as simple as having a swearword in your title or summary was enough to get you hit, even if you were a 'T' rated work. Most disturbingly of all, there are a number of — impossible to substantiate — accounts of groups such as the infamous Critics United 'mass reporting' works to trigger a strike to get them removed. I would suggest reading further on places like Fanlore if you are unfamiliar and want to know more.

Despite its flaws however, report-based moderation is more-or-less the only option, and this segues neatly into the next piece of the puzzle that is content moderation, that is to say, the rubric. How do you decide what is, and what isn't against the rules of your site?

Anyone who's complained to the staff about how vague the rules are on SV may have had this explained to them, but as that is likely not many of you, I'll summarise: the more precise and clear-cut your chosen rubric is, the more it will inevitably need to resemble a legal document — and the less readable it is to the layman. We'll return to SV for an example here: many newer users will not be aware of this, but SV used to have a much more 'line by line, clearly delineated' set of rules and... people kind of hated it! An infraction would reference 'Community Compact III.15.5' rather than Rule 3, because it was more or less written in the same manner as the Terms of Service (sans the legal terms of art). While it was a more legible rubric from a certain perspective, from the perspective of communicating expectations to the users it was inferior to our current set of rules — even less of them read it, and we don't have great uptake right now.

And it still wasn't really an improvement over our current set-up when it comes to 'moderation consistency'. Even without getting into the nuts and bolts of "how do you define a racist work in a way that does not, at any point, say words to the effect of 'I know it when I see it'" — which is itself very, very difficult don't get me wrong I'm not dismissing this — you are stuck with finding an appropriate footing between a spectrum of 'the US penal code' and 'don't be a dick' as your rubric. Going for the penal code side doesn't help nearly as much as you might expect with moderation consistency, either — no matter what, you will never have a 100% correct call rate. You have the impossible task of writing a rubric that is easy for users to comprehend, extremely clear for moderation and capable of cleanly defining what is and what isn't racist without relying on moderator judgement, something which you cannot trust when operating at scale.

Speaking of scale, it's time to move on to the third prong — and the last covered in this ramble, which is more of a brief overview than anything truly in-depth — which is resources. Moderation is not a magic wand, you can't conjure it out of nowhere: you need to spend an enormous amount of time, effort and money on building, training and equipping a moderation staff, even a volunteer one, and it is far, far from an instant process. Our most recent tranche of moderators spent several months in training and it will likely be some months more before they're fully comfortable in the role — and that's with a relatively robust bureaucracy and a number of highly experienced mentors supporting them, something that is not going to be available to a new moderation branch with little to no experience. Beyond that, there's the matter of sheer numbers.

Combining both moderation and arbitration — because for volunteer staff, pure moderation is in actuality less efficient in my eyes, for a variety of reasons beyond the scope of this post, but we'll treat it as if they're both just 'moderators' — SV presently has 34 dedicated moderation volunteers. SV hosts ~785 million words of creative writing.

AO3 hosts ~32 billion.

These are some very rough and simplified figures, but if you completely ignore all the usual problems of scaling manpower in a business (or pseudo-business), such as (but not limited to) geometrically increasing bureaucratic complexity and administrative burden, along with all the particular issues of volunteer moderation... AO3 would still need well over one thousand volunteer moderators to be able to match SV's moderator-to-creative-wordcount ratio.

Paid moderation, of course, you can get away with less — my estimate is that you could fully moderate SV with, at best, ~8 full-time moderators, still ignoring administrative burden above the level of team leader. This leaves AO3 only needing a much more modest ~350 moderators. At the US minimum wage of ~$15k p.a. — which is, in my eyes, deeply unethical to pay moderators as full-time moderation is an intensely gruelling role with extremely high rates of PTSD and other stress-related conditions — that is approximately ~$5.25m p.a. costs on moderator wages. Their average annual budget is a bit over $500k.

So, that's obviously not on the table, and we return to volunteer staffing. Which... let's examine that scenario and the questions it leaves us with, as our conclusion.

Let's say, through some miracle, AO3 succeeds in finding those hundreds and hundreds and hundreds of volunteer moderators. We'll even say none of them are malicious actors or sufficiently incompetent as to be indistinguishable, and that they manage to replicate something on the level of or superior to our moderation tooling near-instantly at no cost. We still have several questions to be answered:

How are you maintaining consistency? Have you managed to define racism to the point that moderator judgment no longer enters the equation? And to be clear, you cannot allow moderator judgment to be a significant decision maker at this scale, or you will end with absurd results.

How are you handling staff mental health? Some reading on the matter, to save me a lengthy and unrelated explanation of some of the steps involved in ensuring mental health for commercial-scale content moderators.

How are you handling your failures? No moderation in the world has ever succeeded in a 100% accuracy rate, what are you doing about that?

Using report-based discovery, how are you preventing 'report brigading', such as the theories surrounding Critics United mentioned above? It is a natural human response to take into account the amount and severity of feedback. While SV moderators are well trained on the matter, the rare times something is receiving enough reports to potentially be classified as a 'brigade' on that scale will nearly always be escalated to administration, something completely infeasible at (you're learning to hate this word, I'm sure) scale.

How are you communicating expectations to your user base? If you're relying on a flag-based system, your users' understanding of the rules is a critical facet of your moderation system — how have you managed to make them legible to a layman while still managing to somehow 'truly' define racism?

How are you managing over one thousand moderators? Like even beyond all the concerns with consistency, how are you keeping track of that many moving parts as a volunteer organisation without dozens or even hundreds of professional managers? I've ignored the scaling administrative burden up until now, but it has to be addressed in reality.

What are you doing to sweep through your archives? SV is more-or-less on-top of 'old' works as far as rule-breaking goes, with the occasional forgotten tidbit popping up every 18 months or so — and that's what we're extrapolating from. These thousand-plus moderators are mostly going to be addressing current or near-current content, are you going to spin up that many again to comb through the 32 billion words already posted?

I could go on for a fair bit here, but this has already stretched out to over two thousand words.

I think the people behind this movement have their hearts in the right place and the sentiment is laudable, but in practice it is simply 'won't someone think of the children' in a funny hat. It cannot be done.

Even if you could somehow meet the bare minimum thresholds, you are simply not going to manage a ruleset of sufficient clarity so as to prevent a much-worse repeat of the 2012 FF.net massacre, you are not going to be able to manage a moderation staff of that size and you are not going to be able to ensure a coherent understanding among all your users (we haven't managed that after nearly ten years and a much smaller and more engaged userbase). There's a serious number of other issues I haven't covered here as well, as this really is just an attempt at giving some insight into the sheer number of moving parts behind content moderation: the movement wants off-site content to be policed which isn't so much its own barrel of fish as it is its own barrel of Cthulhu; AO3 is far from English-only and would in actuality need moderators for almost every language it supports — and most damning of all, if Section 230 is wiped out by the Supreme Court it is not unlikely that engaging in content moderation at all could simply see AO3 shut down.

As sucky as it seems, the current status quo really is the best situation possible. Sorry about that.

#archive of our own #endotwracism #end otw racism #content moderation #sufficient velocity #i hate how much i know about this topic

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kettlefire · 13 days

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It's not you, it's me. (DPxDC)

Long post, but short plot info or progression wise!

Danny loves his parents, don't get him wrong. They weren't perfect by any means, but they tried. As hard as it was for him to come to terms with, it's okay. Really.

It's okay that Jazz had been the one to raise him. It's okay that his parents talked about wanting to rip him apart during mealtime. It's okay they didn't notice the way ghostly things attached to Danny. It's okay that they never paid enough attention to put his secret together.

It's okay because they weren't bad parents. Not as bad as they could be. Yes, they could be a little reckless. Yes, they had their problems. But the good times were there.

Saturday morning fudge cooking with Jack. Late night self-defense class with Maddie. Tinkering in the lab with both of them. Even the normal embarrassing moments were good.

Because his parents are awesome. They are absolutely cool, and they did their best. As best as they could.

That's why it hurt so much to leave.

It hurt to leave Amity Park, but it hurt more to leave his family. He felt it deep in his core, the pain of having to separate from those he loves. Those he needed to protect.

But it was time. If Danny wanted to protect them, he needed to leave. So, he did. He almost didn't say goodbye. Almost didn't want to face it all.

His friends were easy to say goodbye to, but it still hurt just as much. Sam and Tucker, they understood why he had to go. Same with Jazz. There were talks about other ideas and plans so that Danny didn't need to leave. But he had to. There was no other option.

But Danny needed to tell his parents everything. Tell them about his accident, tell them that he was Phantom. He couldn't just say bye and leave with no explanation. So he bit the bullet and did it.

It went well. Better than good, it was amazing. And Danny wished he could stick around to see the changes in his parents' work because of it.

Danny has cried enough times this past week than he was sure he cried his whole life. He had his fill, he doubt he could cry again soon.

For everyone's safety, Danny Fenton left Amity Park. Phantom had vanished from the streets. Amity Park was safe. The Anti-Ecto laws, the GIW, all of it. They wouldn't target Amity Park anymore.

It was a lot of work to get the other ghosts on board. But after Clockwork confirmed everything, it all set into motions. The world was free of ghosts, but Danny wasn't sure how long the others could stay away.

He needed a plan, needed to get the government to understand ghosts. But there was nothing Danny could truly do. He was just a kid.

He is just a kid. Just a kid leaving in a small apartment right by a place nicknames crime alley. But Danny liked it. Gotham had enough noise and ambient ectoplasm to keep him safe. It would be hard for anyone to find him.

He was safe. Safe for once. But Danny knew it wouldn't last long.

The problem here? Danny was all alone. He didn't have his team to contact. Didn't have Sam or Jazz to tell him that a plan was downright stupid. Didn't have Tucker to back up the stupid plans that could actually work.

That's how he ended up in space.

Danny loves space, and he wished he was visiting in better circumstances. Thankfully, the vacuum of space had no impact on Danny's ghost form. It was harder than he expected to find what he was looking for.

God, Danny wished Tucker was here. The techno-nerd was a wiz with the computer. Amazing at hacking and tracking in a way Danny couldn't understand.

But Danny didn't have Tucker. He didn't have anyone right now. He couldn't have anyone right now.

Even so, Danny found it. Found the secret space base for the Justice League. It was a struggle, but he found it. And for once, his luck was on his side.

The whole team was there. Well, the main ones you see on the news and in the paper. All sitting around a giant table, a whole meeting was happening.

Danny took one shuddering breath in before phasing into the Watchtower invisibly. He was honestly surprised when no alarms went off. No defenses were triggered. He made a mental note to give them some ghost detection equipment if things go well.

Except things didn't go well. At least not the way Danny had been hoping.

He silently made his way to the table, standing a bit of a distance from them. Just in case he needed to run. His eyes jumped between the different heroes.

Danny steeled his nerves, at least tried to. He stood directly across from Batman, in the perfect spot to be noticed instantly. Then he dropped his invisibility.

All eyes were on him in an instance. Danny never felt so terrified in his life. Not like this. His attempt at steeling his nerves failed immediately.

Maybe the anxiety and fear was clear on his face. Maybe it's because he is a child, despite glowing and being someplace he shouldn't be. But Danny vaguely heard a soft, gentle voice speak to him.

He couldn't make it out, not really. His ears were filled with the sounds of his rushing ectoplasm. A tremble settled in his hands, and Danny knew he needed to hurry up. He needed to speak before he lost all his cool.

"I... Sorry, I know I shouldn't be here... But, uh, my name's Phantom... And I... I..."

The words stumbled and spilled from Danny in a less than elegant and confident way. The shaking in his hands got worse the more he tried to speak. His voice shaky and waivering, even when he tried to sound strong.

And Danny couldn't pull his gaze away from Batman. The cape crusader stood unmoving, unphased, and completely silent. The other heroes had a mixed of expression, but Danny couldn't read Batman.

That unnerved the teen so much. In that moment, he regretted ever coming here. He regretted leaving Amity Park. He regretted telling his parents. He regretted ever stepping foot in that damn portal to begin with.

Then something snap inside of Danny. The dam that was holding everything in just suddenly broke. In a split second, his vision grew blurry with tears.

Even though he didn't need to breathe, his breathing started to pick up. Fast and short. He could feel the phantom feeling of a heart beating rapidly in his chest. Or maybe it was his core warning him of the sudden wave of emotions rocking through him.

"I... I... Help."

The single word, the single plea, spilled from Danny in a pathetic whimper. Before he suddenly dropped to his knees. He curled in on himself. Arms wrapped tightly around himself, head bowed and white hair curtaining his face. Tears fell fast down his cheeks, leaving droplets on the floor, as choked sobs left him.

In that moment, Danny didn't feel like a hero. Didn't feel like Phantom. Didn't feel like the ghostly hero that was in charge of fixing everything.

In that moment, Danny felt like a scared little kid. A kid who was given too much too fast, with no real guidance. A kid that had to grow up fast and had people depending on him. A kid who was exhausted and terrified. A kid that wanted nothing more than to run home. To be wrapped up in a Jack Fenton Bear Hug. To feel his mother's hand combing through his hair as she whispered gentle reassuring words to him.

In the end, Danny Fenton was still just a kid. And it seemed the Justice League could see that.

Danny couldn't focus on the words he heard spoken around him. He couldn't focus on the moments either. He couldn't focus on anything.

Until suddenly, arms were wrapped around him in a gentle and warm embrace. He felt something draped over his back. Danny blinked the blurriness in his vision just enough to make out who was in front of him.

Batman. The hero that scared Danny the most seconds ago.

Except this time, even through the cowl, Batman looked softer. The man looked human and understanding. It made Danny's mind flash to his parents once again. Which only made him cry harder.

A glowing kid was wrapped up in Batman's arms, the two kneeling on the ground. Batman's cape wrapped around the trembling, sobbing form. The kid clinging to Batman like a lifeline. The rest of the Justice League stood around the two.

Nobody quite knowing what the hell they were supposed to do. Or what was really going on.

All those heroes needed to know was simple enough. There was a kid who went through all this trouble to end up in the Watchtower. A kid that's so hurt and exhausted, pleading for help. And helping was the Justice League's specialty.

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vioshortforviolence · 10 months

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So a post I reblogged about no Dark Link in TotK being a missed opportunity got me thinking about how he could've been implemented:

You could find one of those journals in one of the Yiga outposts in the Depths talking about him. Here's how I think it could read:

Spotted the Hero in the Depths today. I attempted to approach while disguised as a member of the Zonai Survey Team.

Bad idea. I was attacked immediately and viciously without hesitation. I barely escaped with my life!

That... was not the Hero.

Was that the Hero's Shadow spoken of in the old legends? It is said the Shadow would mirror the Hero's appearance and fighting skills... I believe it after that encounter.

ATTENTION YIGA CLAN MEMBERS: If you spot this figure during your patrols, DO NOT APPROACH. This 'Shadow' will viciously attack anything and anyone that dares get near, even the Yiga Clan.

Beware the Hero's Shadow.

Glory to Master Kohga.

End

Dark Link would be patrolling the Depths, and upon spotting you, he will chase you down and attack, similar to the Gloom Hands. But unlike the Gloom Hands, you cannot escape by climbing to high ground and waiting for him to vanish. He will simply teleport up to you.

You can either deal enough damage to him, which will make him leave and reappear elsewhere in the Depths (like how the Yiga flee when defeated), or you can teleport far enough away so he loses track of you. Thankfully, he will not follow you to the Surface.

If he spots you while you're wearing the Dark Link outfit, he will be temporarily confused, giving you very limited time to run away or hide before he figures it out and starts attacking you. Similar to the Lynel Mask.

Also while you're wearing the Dark Link outfit, the Yiga will not ambush you, because they think you're the Hero's Shadow.

Dark Link's number of hearts will match that of the player's, just like in OoT. The stronger you get, the stronger he gets too.

He would also have the smartest enemy AI in the game, besides Ganondorf himself:

He dodges any thrown items or arrows shot at him, which means he cannot be cheesed with bombs. He will simply hop out of the blast radius before it lands. You must fight him in close melee combat.

He will mirror your strikes perfectly if you fight him with a one-handed sword and shield. However, he only wields a sword and shield, meaning you can attack him more easily with a different weapon, like... oh I don't know... a two-handed hammer? 😉

I'm not entirely sure what he'd drop upon defeat... Maybe his sword and shield?

Anyway, those are my thoughts. I'd love to hear other ideas :)

(EDIT: Added more stuff in a reblog!)

#bonus idea: dark link will be afraid to attack you if you're wearing the fierce deity set #but will still retaliate if you attack him first #totk spoilers #tagging that just in case #loz totk #the legend of zelda #tears of the kingdom #dark link #yiga clan #the depths #wow this is a long post #I really like dark link okay #I wish he would appear in more games P:#WAIT this could make for a really cool DLC opportunity! I would buy it in a heartbeat!! Please Nintendo!! (hah wishful thinking 😌)

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gyeomsweetgyeom · 2 months

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⋆⭒˚.⋆ your biggest fan ⋆⭒˚.⋆

idol!jaehyun x popstar!reader

summary: in which the world discovers your relationship with Jaehyun and surprisingly… they love it

(cw: f!reader, descriptions of sasaengs and receiving hate)

a/n: bonus ig posts at the end

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

You weren't exactly sure how you and Jaehyun became a couple, that was his area of expertise, not yours. All you remembered was meeting him in 2019 at the iHeartRadio Jingle Ball and from there a relationship blossomed at some point.

It was hard on the both of you, you were both so busy. He was busy pumping out music every year, always working. If he wasn't touring, he was recording, promoting, learning a new dance, or working on the next step. The life of a Kpop idol was vastly different from the fame you knew as a western artist. You had breaks between albums, a few singles here and there, but your tours lasted so much longer.

It was a reality you were used to though. You came into the limelight as a teenager, building a deeply dedicated fan base that grew in size and grew up with you. A fanbase that grew from your hometown to spanning various continents. Your success and fame had grown far beyond what you had ever imagined when you first signed on to create your first record. This life was everything you dreamed of and more, even if the reality was less... perfect than you thought it would be.

Having been in this industry for as long as you had been, a romantic relationship wasn't at the forefront of your list. There were a few here and there, kept under wraps, but they could never understand the demands of your job. When Jaehyun came in, he turned your world upside down. He was a breath of fresh air and inspired you more than anyone ever had.

It had been 3 years of dating now. You were head over heels in love and so was he. The time differences, the constant missed calls, and dates in the cover of darkness hadn't diminished any of the love you had for each other.

These past few weeks had been lucky, you were in your Asian leg of your tour and Jaehyun had been able to join you for the last week of your tour which was starting with a few nights in Seoul and ending in Japan. It was the night before your concert, definitely past midnight, but you and Jaehyun were hungry. You were both dressed "in disguise" with masks on, hats covering your heads, and baggier clothes.

It really was a mistake on both your ends to think that there would be no one watching. Sure, the traditional paparazzi wasn't really a thing here, but there were other people with cameras. People who were too dedicated and a... different kind of fan that you and Jaehyun were unfortunately familiar with. These people knew where you were staying and would take any opportunity to catch a picture. And that’s what happened.

You both entered a convenience store and you pulled off your hat to fix your hair which left your face more visible to the cameras taking pictures. A few minutes later Jaehyun lowered his mask to take a drink from his cup and from there your relationship was revealed and spiraled out of control.

Fans were making connections, some far reaching and others that were legitimate. In your short, 20 minute trip down the block both you and Jaehyun were trending. You didn’t even know it was all happening until the morning after when your assistant walked into your hotel room with her phone in her hand that was quickly pushed in front of your face.

You scrolled through hundreds of tweets, replies, quote tweets, various hashtags.

Your voice was tired and deep from sleep, “what is happening?”

“Fans caught you two in the convenience store last night and uploaded the picture. Jaehyun our team have been in touch with your management and we’ve agreed to each put out a statement confirming the relationship. I know this isn’t what either of you had planned, but you were lucky for a good few years,” your assistant explained with a soft smile.

Jaehyun turned to you with a nervous expression, “I’m sorry this happened. Just ignore all the negative comments and focus on the good, okay? I love you and this won’t change anything.”

“I’m sorry, but there’s no negatives. Well sure, haters are everywhere but 99% of the posts, comments, reactions, everything really- is positive. You’re both international stars with very dedicated fan bases that have some intersection. Seriously, look for yourself,” your assistant hands her phone to Jaehyun. “People want duets, joint tours, they want interviews together. Seriously, it’s crazy!”

You laugh I shock, looking over Jaehyun’s shoulder to read all the feedback and comments from your fans.

“We have to improve your Korean, baby. They want you to collaborate with NCT,” Jaehyun laughs.

“You told me my Korean was good!” You exclaim with a soft hit to his arm.

“It is! But we can practice more for a whole album full of duets,” he replies with a soft laugh.

“You’re getting ahead of yourself,” you laugh in reply.

That night at your concert, the arena full of fans erupts in cheers so loud you can hear it through your ear pieces when Jaehyun is shown on the screen. “My boyfriend is here tonight! And we can all thank him for my amazing Korean! Before we start the next song, which is about him, how do we all feel about an extra show here?”

The screams get even louder and you look at Jaehyun with a bright smile. He sends you a finger heart and you send a kiss right back in his direction. This was everything you’d dreamt of.

+ BONUS

yourusername

liked by _jeongjaehyun, zendaya, and others

yoursusername in case you somehow managed to miss the news, here’s the confirmation! my inspiration, my muse, my biggest fan, my love, nobody gets me like you do. I’m so lucky to live this life with someone who gets me better than anyone else. i love you foreverrrrrr

comments on this post have been limited

_jeongjaehyun

liked by yourusername, bumkeyk, and others

_jeongjaehyun Sometimes I still can’t believe it myself. I’ve learned so much from you and continue to learn something new everyday. I’m my best self around you. I love you baby, I’m your biggest fan

comments on this post have been limited

#kpop imagines #kpop au #kpop scenarios #kpop reactions #nct #nct imagines #nct fluff #nct x reader #nct drabbles #jaehyun imagines #jaehyun x reader #jaehyun fluff #jaehyun drabbles #jaehyun blurb #jaehyun scenarios

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t-lostinworlds · 5 months

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Competitively Stupid | Steve Harrington

》 PAIRING: steve harrington x female!reader

》 TROPE/GENRE: rivals-ish (since childhood) to lovers, some angst; fluff

》 SUMMARY: It was stupid, jumping off a cliff just to prove that you were better than Steve fucking Harrington. But you were competitive. You were not losing to him. But you know what was stupider? For it to take a near-death situation for you both to confess what you truly feel for each other.

》 WARNINGS: canon divergent (everyone is alive & well & happy thanks), pet names (sweetheart, baby), shitty parents (on both sides), competitiveness on all accounts, r is basically a counterpart of steve during high school (cheerleading captain, queen of hawkins high, swim team captain, etc.), peer pressure-ish, some stupid decisions & stupider actions, very irresponsible cliff jumping (which doesn't end well), drowning, CPR, injuries, an emotional moment™, love confessions, and a happy, sappy ending.

》 WORD COUNT: 5.3k+

A/N: hi! okay, well, it's been a while since i posted a steve fic so i'm kinda nervous ngl. also, not me making it a habit to include swimmer!steve in all my fics from here on out. this was meant to be short & sweet to dust off the cobwebs but lol. super random. i saw a video of someone cliff-jumping & boom, the idea was born. also, not me using the first aid training i learned in college.

📍 BLOG NAVIGATION ✩ STEVE H. MASTERLIST ✩ MAIN MASTERLIST ✩

⊱ ─────.⋅♚ *｡･ﾟ.★. *｡･ﾟ✫*.

This was stupid.

Absolutely idiotic.

You genuinely have no idea why you were even doing this in the first place.

"There's no way you can do it."

Right.

That's why.

The taunting voice of Steve fucking Harrington was the reason why you were standing on the edge of a cliff, looking down at a thirty-foot drop into the dark ocean.

This was supposed to be a relaxing trip with your new found family.

"You know you don't have to listen to him, right?" Robin sighed, so completely over the fact that her two best friends who never got along no matter what she tried, somehow came to an agreement to not listen to her right now.

Not that you could blame her.

You and Steve had been rivals ever since you were kids.

It was what you had always known.

What with narcissistic parents who used their children as pawns to one up each other, you had been conditioned to see him as an enemy from the second you step foot into their home.

Your family was invited into the Harrington residence for dinner as a way of welcoming you to the neighborhood. You recently just moved in, so you didn't know anyone else yet. When you heard that the next-door neighbor had a son who was your age, you had been really excited to gain a new friend.

All that changed when your dad sat you down an hour before, prepping you about how the Harringtons were a respected family in the town, and that you needed to show them you weren't any less than them, if not show them you were better. He drilled it in your brain to be on your best behavior, to be the best and the perfect daughter.

It only got worse when you finally sat down at that dinner table.

The comparisons were endless.

"See, my daughter here is a wonderful gymnast, quite amazing for someone her age."

"How wonderful. Steven here has swimming lessons every weekend. His coach said he might end up in the Olympic team once he's of age."

"Splendid. How about his academics? I'm sure he can take inspiration from my daughter's exemplary grades."

"He's the top of his class. Maybe if they study together, your daughter would be able to catch up in time."

It was harsh, pitting two seven-year-olds against each other—impressionable kids who only wanted to make their mom and dad proud.

But neither your parents nor his truly gave a shit. All they cared about was becoming the best family in the street, if not the whole town.

The sad thing was, those dinners became a regular thing, held alternately between your house and his.

It always looked like a preparation for battle whenever your mom would pull out the finest china in her collection along with the cookbook she only ever used for special occasions.

It was in the guise of cordiality when it was, in fact, an excuse to show off, to make a competition out of everything, a moment to compare who did what best. Those dinners were like monthly scoreboards, tallying up the respective families' recent achievements—and that included yours and Steve's.

Nobody was surprised that the competitiveness stuck with you both.

And it only got worse during high school.

Whether that was something as mundane as winning the popularity contest when running different circles—even going as far as getting crowned the King and Queen of Hawkins High—down to academics and extracurriculars.

Captain of the basketball team. Captain of the cheerleading squad. Prom Queen. Prom King. MVP of the season. Brightest student of the year. Beer pong Queen. Kegstand King. Best summer camp counselor. Lifeguard of the month and it went on and on and on and on.

When he got co-captain for the men's swim team, you rubbed it in his face that you were the captain of the women's team. When you got second place at the science fair, he made sure to rub his first place medal right in your face. When you became president of the student council, you ordered him around to do extra work whenever the basketball team was required to help with community service.

It was a constant back and forth.

There was always a competition between you and Steve Harrington.

And sure, since you graduated, it became subdued. But it was still very much there. Vying on who was the coolest babysitter in your band of ragtags, even fighting to have the title of Robin Buckley's ultimate best friend.

This thing between you and Steve was deeply rooted. So there really wasn't much Robin could do apart from getting in between your frequent squabbles before you started actually killing each other.

In Robin's words, something drastic had to happen for you both to finally wake up and see that this rivalry between you both wasn't what it seemed to be on the surface.

You had no idea what she was even implying.

Now, on a little getaway on the nearest beach you could drive to, the competition started with a race on who could get there first. It wasn't even fair seeing that you weren't the one driving.

The group had split into two, some were in Eddie's van—along with everyone's belongings since he had ample space in the back—while the others were in Steve's Beemer. Since you and Steve couldn't be in the same room together without an argument ensuing, it was a unanimous decision to have you two separated. Nobody wanted to deal with that for hours on the road.

Not that you could blame them, either.

And sure, it was the kids who suggested the race, but with Steve's smug smirk and that arrogant wink he threw once you got into Eddie's passenger seat, you knew it was game on between you too.

Yet despite the metal head being a fast—albeit slightly reckless—driver, he somehow took his sweet goddamn time getting to your destination.

Only when your group arrived at the beach last, did he say something about Steve threatening him to be extra careful with driving because there's important cargo in his van—whatever the hell that meant.

You lost to Steve on that one, but you would argue it was rigged from the start.

The next was a supposed friendly bout on who could build the biggest sandcastle that didn't topple over after a few minutes.

It was boys versus girls with you and him being team leaders. The girls won, obviously and El never used her powers. It was fair and square since the other team mostly argued over everything they could think of and had no teamwork at all. You made sure to point that out to Steve as you watched their sandcastle crumble into ruins.

Another one was beach volleyball. Same leaders as before, but you get to pick the members of your teams this time. Steve made it his mission to pick the tallest of the bunch. Still, it wasn't the advantage he thought it was because it ended up being one point too close.

Your team would've won if Steve wasn't such a dramatic asshole.

It was truly an accident. When you spiked that ball, you were not aiming for his face. He simply thought it was a good idea to catch the ball with it. Besides, he was distracted, flirting with some random girl in a bikini who was passing by, right in the middle of the game.

How was it your fault that he wasn't paying attention?

He made sure to oversell his injury after that, curled up on the sand as the girl fussed over him. But you saw that smirk on his face. You would've hit him again—definitely not by accident this time—if you weren't busy arguing with Robin about the point deduction. She said it was only fair since you hit the ball when she hadn't blown her imaginary whistle yet.

You decided to let it go when Steve commented on you being a whiny sore loser.

Unfortunately, the competition was ending with who could make jumping off a cliff and into the ocean look the coolest—adults only, despite the groans of protest from the mischievous bunch.

Eddie offered to stay behind and watch the rascals. When teased, he simply said he didn't want to test Death today.

His comment didn't help your nerves.

Robin said she was only coming purely as a voice of reason. She'd been saying nonstop how it was a horribly stupid idea, that there really was no need to be doing this in the first place.

But Steve wasn't backing down, so you weren't going to either.

So once again, it was only you and him.

As it always had been.

He volunteered to go first, throwing in a comment about rushing back up the cliff's edge before you could take your turn because he wanted a front-row seat for when you'd chicken out.

It only made you want to do it more.

His dive was smooth, almost flawless, you admit. He even showed off with a little flip near the end. It didn't take long for him to swim back to the shore, either. His years of training as a swimmer were obviously paying off.

But you trained just as much if not more than he had.

The only difference was, adrenaline didn't fuel you as much as it did Steve. So instead of getting all powered up looking down at a cliff's edge like he was, you were terrified.

But who wouldn’t get scared looking down at harsh waves crashing against sharp and jagged rocks? There was no margin for error here because one wrong slip and you'd be dead.

Still, if Steve could do it, you could do it better.

You weren't about to lose to his stupid ass.

"I'm not listening to him," you argued back, taking in a shaky breath as you took a step.

"He's doing reverse psychology!" she squeaked. "So you doing it is still listening to him!"

"I'm fine, Robs, I can do it," you mumbled, a slight questioning lilt at the end of your sentence.

"Look, sweetheart, it's okay to admit defeat," Steve said, cocky voice with an even cockier smile as he crossed his toned arms against his bare chest. His hair was still damp, quick to climb back up so he could get his front-row seat as he promised.

But you weren't chickening out.

Never.

"I mean, it wouldn't be the first time you lost to me so, it shouldn't sting as much."

You ignored him.

Instead, you took another step, the tips of your toes now hanging over the edge.

You can do this. Wipe that smug smirk off his face. You got this.

"Listen, you don't have to do—"

"Shut it, Harrington," you growled.

With a deep breath, you closed your eyes, counting from three, two, one…

You jumped.

-:-:-:-:-:-:-

This was stupid.

Absolutely idiotic.

He shouldn't have pressured you like that.

The jump wasn't deadly, per se, but it also wasn't exactly deemed the safest, especially if you weren't an expert in any sort of way.

And he didn't want to say it out loud because if he did, he knew it would only push you to do it more just to prove him wrong.

But Steve could see how scared you were.

He was already dropping the act, voice laced with concern as he started telling you that he wasn't worth all of this, that he was stupid and that you were always going to be better than him.

But, obviously, you didn't listen.

You simply jumped.

You and your stupidly competitive ass.

"Damn it," he cursed under his breath, rushing to the edge of the cliff, tensely watching your falling figure disappear into the water with a splash.

"You two are complete idiots."

"Shut up," Steve gritted, never looking away from the water. Yet any annoyance was quickly overpowered by sheer worry as he scanned the deep blue for anything.

There was no sign of you.

"Like seriously! It's like I'm the only one with a brain cell here!"

"Come on, come on, come on," Steve mumbled, completely ignoring Robin when you still hadn't emerged to the surface. "Come on, Y/N, don't scare me like this."

"Uh, Steve?" Robin asked after a moment, carefully looking over the cliff before shooting him a worried glance. "You look anxious and you being anxious is making me nervous."

"She hasn't come up," he grumbled, glancing at his watch.

It was nearing a minute.

"Maybe you didn't see her?"

"I haven't taken my eyes off the water, Buckley," he gritted, too harsh and uncalled for since Robin didn't do anything wrong.

But he was panicking.

A minute and thirty seconds.

"Come on, sweetheart, you can do it. You're an amazing swimmer," he whispered encouragingly, hoping some sort of magic would let you hear him underwater all while saying it aloud for his own sanity.

Two minutes.

You could never hold your breath any longer than that.

Steve knew because he always won that competition.

And that was in a calm pool.

"Shit, shit, shit!" he cursed, gearing up to dive after you. "I don't think she's coming up!"

"Okay! Okay," Robin rushed, panicking. "Maybe she's already on the shore. We should go down now and see—"

Steve didn't listen.

He jumped right after you.

The biting cold was awakening.

Still, it was the absolute fear of losing you that was keeping him alert.

He ignored the sting of the salty ocean water in his eyes as he frantically searched for you, his heart beating hard and fast, struggling for oxygen all while fearing for your safety.

Steve didn't know which came first, relief or dread when finally found you, aimlessly floating and unconscious under the deep blue.

He swam to you as fast he could, securely hooking his arm under your shoulder and dragging you up to the surface.

Steve always knew that adrenaline can give you a random boost of strength when needed. He simply didn't expect that to be proven true when he was carrying your unresponsive body in his arms as he brought you to the shore.

He gently placed you on your back on the sand, cupping your face as he checked for any injuries.

You were so cold.

"Hey, hey, wake up," he begged, grabbing your shoulders to try and shake you awake.

Nothing.

"You didn't have to make the jump, you idiot. Why do you always want to prove me wrong," he scolded with no ounce of anger, only worry. He started tapping your cheek frantically. "Come on, wake up!"

Still no response.

"Dammit, Y/N, why'd you have to be so fucking stubborn," he scolded, his voice shaking in fear, his chest tightening as he pressed two fingers against your pulse point.

His own heart stopped when he couldn't feel yours.

And you weren't breathing.

Steve tried to keep himself calm. If he panicked now, he wouldn't be able to give you the aid that you direly need.

"Come on, Harrington. You know what to do. You trained for this," he mumbled to himself, getting into the proper position to give you CPR.

He gently cupped your forehead with his left hand, his other two fingers under your chin as he tilted your head up.

"You're going to be okay," he whispered, pinching your nose before slotting his lips against yours.

Breathing into your mouth, one, two, he watched your chest rise as it filled up with air, only for it to settle back down without coming back up again. He quickly kneeled straighter, locking his fingers together and placing the heel of his left hand in the middle of your chest, pushing down with enough pressure to try and get your heart to start again.

"One, two, three, four, come on, sweetheart, breathe for me," he mumbled, easily finding the right rhythm, his first aid training as a lifeguard coming back to him like it was second nature.

Still, he never wanted to use this skill in a real-life situation, much less use it on you.

It was the longest thirty counts in his life.

Check for a pulse. Check for breathing.

Still nothing.

"Goddammit, Y/N, come on!" he growled, blinking back the tears as he pressed his mouth against yours again.

Two rescue breaths.

Thirty chest compressions.

Steve repeated the cycle over and over. His eyes were stinging with unshed tears, his knees were burning as the rough sand dug deeper into his skin, and his arms were starting to get sore, tiredness slowly covering his aching muscles.

But he'd rather die first than give up on you now.

"Steve—"

"Call for help, Robin!" he ordered, not taking his eyes off you for even a second. When he didn't hear any movement, he yelled, "Don't just stand there! Go!"

He was going to apologize for being an asshole later. For now, he needed you to fucking breathe.

"Come on, come on, please," he begged, leaning back down to give you two more rescue breaths. "Breathe for me, baby, please."

Thirty chest compressions.

"Trying to prove me wrong when I've always been wrong, you idiot."

Five, six, seven—

"Sweetheart, come on," he choked back a sob. "Who's going to call me out when I'm being stupid, huh? You know Robin can't do it alone."

Twelve, thirteen, fourteen—

"And you're really going to leave me alone to watch our kids?"

Twenty, twenty-one, twenty-two—

"Y/N, baby, please, I can't live without you," he whimpered.

Twenty-seven, twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thir—

Steve felt his breath leave his lungs when you finally gasped for air.

He quickly turned you to your side, rubbing your back as you choked out all the ocean water that got into your system.

"There you go, you're okay," he whispered, whether to reassure you or himself, he didn't even know anymore. All he was focused on was making sure you were going to be okay.

"S-Stevie?" you coughed out the nickname that was only ever used by you.

It was the equivalent to his nickname for you—sweetheart.

Names that started out to annoy each other but the more often it was used as time passed, it only managed to grow into an endearment that held something warm underneath it. You both were quick to realize that the nicknames you had for each other weren't out of spite anymore.

Neither of you simply addressed it.

"Steady, sweetheart, I'm right here," he reassured, hurriedly getting into your line of sight to stop you from trying to turn around to face him. He gently cupped your cheek, offering you a soft smile when your gaze found him. "I'm not going anywhere."

You nodded as best as you could, your eyes clinging onto his brown ones only for them to screw shut when a shiver ran through your whole body.

"C-Cold," you stammered.

"I know, I know, come here," he said softly, guiding you to sit up before quickly settling behind you. He gently pulled you closer between his legs, his chest pressed against your back as he blanketed his body over yours, rubbing your arms to keep you as warm as possible.

You turned to face him slightly, burying your face into his neck only for you to wince at the slight movement. He quickly tried to steady you again, checking over you twice to look for any visible injury. But he couldn't find any.

"Tell me what hurts," he asked, pressing his lips against your cold forehead as he fully wrapped his arms around you.

"A-Ankle," you whimpered in pain, your grip on his waist tightening and God he hated that sound so much.

You must've rolled it when you jumped, and having landed on it when you reached the water, it definitely made it worse.

"It's okay, you're okay," he murmured, littering kisses against the side of your head to try and keep your mind off it. "Robin already called for help, they should be on their way, alright?"

You gave him a small nod, inching even closer to him, seeking as much warmth from him as possible. Your cold breath was tickling his skin but he didn’t care. Hell, you could be breathing fucking ice and he still wouldn’t give a shit.

As long as you were breathing.

"I need you to stay awake for me, okay?"

"I-I'll try," you whispered.

"First to fall asleep is the biggest loser," he mumbled, squeezing you slightly when he felt your eyes flutter close. "And you wouldn't want me to win this, babe, because I'll be a little shit about it."

"Not f-fair," you choked out a laugh.

"It's plenty fair," Steve chuckled tearfully, ignoring the sudden wetness on his cheeks. He hugged you tighter instead. "So stay awake or you'll lose to me. Again."

"Right there! They're right over there!"

Steve had never been so grateful to hear Robin's voice.

-:-:-:-:-:-:-

"So are you finally going to tell her?"

"Tell her what?" Steve questioned back, unable to take his eyes off of you, soundly sleeping in a hospital bed with your foot now wrapped in a cast.

The doctor had already checked everything and thankfully, there weren't any further injuries apart from your twisted ankle.

Now, all you needed was to rest and recover.

"That you've been in love with her this whole time."

Steve sighed, squeezing your hand before turning to look at his best friend.

"I'm not in love with her, Robs."

"Right," she scoffed, raising a knowing brow. "Because jumping off a cliff with zero hesitation so you could save her is totally normal behavior for someone you claim you hate."

"I never said I hated her," he argued, and it was true. He couldn't think of a single moment where he hated you.

"Yeah, well, you two definitely don't act like you like each other."

"Does she annoy and frustrate the shit out of me? Yes. But I never hated her," he admitted.

Steve didn't know what it was exactly, maybe it was his tiredness muddling his brain, maybe it was from everything that happened in the last couple of hours finally catching up to him, or maybe it was the overwhelming need to confess everything into the open before it was too late—and it almost had been. Either way, he found himself suddenly spewing out all the things that he always just kept to himself.

"She's also been the most constant person in my life, you know? Hell, we basically grew up together. I can't just not care about her," he continued, memories flooding his system before he could even stop it. "She's been so ingrained in my life, her and the cute dresses she wore at those stupid dinners our parents always dragged us to. Her and her stupid competitions whenever our babysitters would bring us to the park together. Her and that stupid dance she always did whenever she won at anything even if it was my expense—she always does this cute little wiggle whenever she won, and that never left her even as we got older," Steve chuckled at the thought.

"And fuck, don't even get me started with how similar our parents are. She's the only one who will always get me when it comes to that," he continued. "And yeah, we compete a lot, but there was no hatred between us. Maybe at the start but all that went away when we learned that whatever our parents were feeding us was bullshit—that they were bullshit.

"And fine, did I sometimes get so annoyed whenever she got a new boyfriend? Yeah. But only because she always had this bad habit of dating fucking assholes. I don't know where she got those dickheads from but every time I see a glimpse of her crying by her window at night I swear to fucking God I would've killed every single one of those assholes if she asked," he gritted, slumping down in his seat with a sigh.

"She deserves to be treated right, you know? She's already experiencing so much shit at home, she doesn't need any more of that anywhere else. Sure, she irritates me to no end but that doesn't mean she's not a sweet girl who always cried whenever some random pet commercial came on the TV during the holidays. Does her competitiveness drive me up the wall? Absolutely. But that doesn't mean I don't feel so fucking proud of her whenever she wins another medal or achieves another milestone. And yeah, I wonder about how she's doing, if she's taking care of herself, if she's getting enough sleep between her work and classes. But that's only because I worry, you know?

"And maybe I do think about her a lot but that doesn't mean I'm in love with…"

Steve blinked.

Well fuck.

"Wow," Robin marveled. "You're stupider than I thought."

"He hit his head as a kid, cut him some slack."

Steve paled at the sound of your voice, swiftly turning red at the thought that you probably heard all the things he said.

He turned to face you, groaning in annoyance when he saw the smug smile on your lips. "You've been awake this whole time?"

"I'll leave you two love birds alone," Robin sang, quickly slipping out of the hospital room and closing the door behind her.

"How much of that did you hear?" Steve asked, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Enough to say you're stupid," you hummed.

He rolled his eyes, leaning back in his seat with crossed arms. "I'm not the one who jumped off the cliff and almost died just to prove a fucking point."

"Yeah, well, I guess we're both stupid then," you snorted.

He shrugged. "I guess we are."

"Jesus, you don't have to act so tense. I mean, you've already given me a mouth-to-mouth, we've practically made out already," you scoffed playfully. "I honestly thought I'd die first before swapping spit with you yet here we are."

It was your attempt at alleviating the tension, to throw in a funny quip. But with everything still so fresh in his mind, Steve simply couldn't take it well.

"Don't fucking joke about that will you?" he snapped, rubbing a frustrated hand over his face.

The silence that followed only made the tension worse.

"I'm sorry," you whispered.

Steve immediately felt bad.

"No, no, no. You didn't do anything wrong, don't apologize," he sighed, meeting your eyes with an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have snapped. It's just—"

He stopped himself, chewing on his bottom as he looked everywhere but at you when he felt the tears well up again.

"Will you come here?"

Steve took a calming breath and did as you asked, moving his chair closer but didn't attempt anything else than that.

"Stevie," you called when he still wouldn't look at you.

Harshly wiping his eyes with the back of his hand, he lifted his head. You smiled at him sweetly, wiggling your fingers to get him to come even closer.

"You scared me back there," he croaked, taking your hand with a squeeze.

"I didn't mean to," you softly said, remorseful and apologetic even though you didn't have to be.

"I know," he murmured, pressing your warm palm against his cheek as he shot you a glare. "Just don't do that again."

"Promise," you giggled, stroking his cheek with your thumb.

Steve leaned closer into your touch. "How are you feeling?"

"Better, thanks to you," you hummed, brows furrowing in thought. "When Marcus got that black eye, you said it was because he was playing dirty on one of your games." You tilted your head knowingly. "That wasn't true, wasn't it?"

Steve shrugged. "He hurt you."

"It was a small bruise on the arm, Steve," you reasoned.

"He shouldn't be giving you a fucking bruise in the first place," he growled, the memory bringing back the same anger he felt when he first saw that bruise. The soft tapping of your finger against his cheek calmed him down. "Sorry."

"Did you lose on purpose to get him expelled?"

"What? No!" he scoffed, offended, rolling his eyes when you giggled. "I tried so fucking hard to win that fight, you know, for you."

"You've always been protective of me," you hummed, taking his hand and interlacing your fingers together.

"Don't think I didn't know it was you who dyed that poor girl's hair green that one year in middle school summer camp," he retaliated.

It was a sharp and piercing scream that woke up the whole camp that morning. Everyone rushed out of bed to see what was going on only to find a girl who once was blonde was now sporting bright green hair in the middle of the crowd, crying her eyes out.

Steve would've thought it was only some silly prank if he didn't know who the girl was. But he did. Because the day before he tried to ask her to be his girlfriend, only for her to turn him down in the most embarrassing and humiliating way possible.

It wasn't difficult for him to find out who the culprit was since he immediately noticed how you kept hiding your hands in your pockets for the next few days after the incident.

The counselors quickly found out that the little menace—whoever she was—decided to use permanent dye on the poor girl's hair instead of something washable.

Your green palms colored you oh so guilty.

"She called you pathetic and gross in front of everyone!" you argued, pouting. "You looked like you were about to cry and I hated it."

Steve's heart warmed at that, a smile on his face despite rolling his eyes. "I wasn't about to cry."

"Yeah well," you shrugged, eyes trained on your intertwined fingers, your thumb playing with his. "I'm the only one who's supposed to be mean to you."

"Hmm," he agreed, bringing the back of your hand to his lips. "I guess we've always been there for each other, huh?"

"I guess so," you giggled, cupping his cheek and tugging him closer.

He stood up from his seat, following your lead until he was pressing his forehead against yours.

"Thank you for saving my life, Steve," you whispered, eyes turning glossy as so many emotions covered your irises, the weight of what almost happened catching up with you.

"You don't have to thank me for that," he said sincerely, brushing the tip of his nose against yours. "I'd do it over and over again in a heartbeat."

You nodded, sniffling, "Still, thank you."

Steve wasn't able to argue some more when you all but kissed him.

The first time Steve felt your mouth on his was a horrible experience considering he was trying to keep you alive.

Now, everything was the complete opposite.

A kiss that was careful but sweet, a hint of nervousness and excitement all the same, completely unhurried yet burning with passion as his lips molded against yours.

But still, it felt like that first gasp of air—a finally.

"I'm in love with you, too, by the way," you murmured as you pulled away, your warm breath tickling his lips.

"Thanks for clarifying," he chuckled, eyes laced with adoration, unable to stop his smile from growing wider, warmer. "I couldn't figure that out from the kiss."

"I mean, you are kinda stupid," you teased.

"We're on that same boat, sweetheart," he chuckled. "I'm sure Robin would remind us about that every single day now."

"Unfortunately," you groaned playfully. "God, she gets annoying when she's right."

"Tell me about it," he hummed, brushing his lips against yours, moving away when you chased it.

You whined.

Steve didn't hesitate to dive back in.

✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ♛ *.

↬ thank you for reading lovely! reblog & leave a comment if you enjoyed! feedback is always appreciated! ++ consider supporting me on ko-fi if you can <3

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#cs #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington angst #steve harrington x female reader #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fic #my writing

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russellsppttemplates · 4 months

Text

It's like we won't even be there (Lewis Hamilton)

Mercedes has three power couples

Note: english is not my first language. After a long time, I'm finally posting this request.

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

my masterlist

Tw: mentions gender inequality, misogynistic ideals

Tag list: @myloverjk-blog

"Everyone on social media has an inkling that you're bringing someone to the race. Is it your belle, Mr. Hamilton?", you teased your boyfriend as he got ready for bed.

You had arrived in Abu Dhabi a few hours earlier, caught a cab to the hotel where your boyfriend had been resting before media day.

"Is that so?", he wondered, "I haven't told anyone outside the team. And even them, I told them you would be joining as my guest, only a few people actually know about us", he assured.

"I don't mind it, we'll have to be public at some time. Three years dating outside of the public eye, plus another year of what the kids call soft launching, whatever happens this weekend, happens", you tranquilized him.

This had been an ongoing conversation for you for as long as you've dated. His lifestyle came with many implications, particularly not always being home and public eye. You also spent a lot of time focused on your job, building the company now associated to your name to the people in the finance business, so the latter question was the biggest one. While you were successful, it hardly impacted your life when it came to the public eye or social media. You had your accounts, sure, but they were private and they never got in the way of your job.

"I just don't want people to lash out on you", he replied, sitting next to you on the bed, his fingers tracing shapes in your hand, "I've seen how brutal they can be, I've felt how brutal they can be, and I don't want that for you. They'll gossip because that's how things work, but I don't want them breaking the respect line.", Lewis stated.

"Lew, I understand and appreciate your concern, but I'll be fine. I have you, our families, our friends, I'm going to be just fine. I don't know how they'll react, so I'll work with whatever happens", you smiled, snuggling into him as he caressed your face.

"Good morning, Y/N! How have you been? I haven't seen you in so long!", Carmen said as she hugged you once you arrived in the hospitality, Lewis kissing your cheek briefly before he headed for his meeting.

"Hello, gorgeous girl! I've been good, and you?", you greeted her with a kiss on each cheek after saying goodbye to Lewis.

"Same old, busy but managed to come and support G this weekend. You, however, seem to finally let it out", she smirked, walking with you to the coffee station and serving yourselves, sitting in the balcony as you overlooked the track.

"There's no point in keeping it a secret, I guess. We did it for a while, and this past year we both realised that we want to be able to go out and not be worried someone will see us and whatever consequences it could bring. We're adults who hope other adults will behave like such", you smiled.

"A hard thing to do sometimes, for them at least", you heard a female voice coming closer to you, "I don't believe we've met before, but Toto said you were hanging out here", the blonde woman said.

Suzie Wolff had been someone you looked up to since you were little, so this was a proper fangirl moment, "sit, sit! This is Y/N!", Carmen introduced after giving her a brief introduction.

"I keep missing you whenever you join us for the races!", she said, "the pandemic didn't help, and lately I've been so busy with the F1 Academy that I've hardly been to races myself", she reasoned, beginning the start of a conversation that was only interrupted for lunchtime.

"Press usually have a field day with powerful women related to this sport. You should be able to get away with it because you don't work for racing, but they love going on and on about how we got to where we are because of who we date", Suzie shook her head.

"Absolutely, because George is very interested in Family Offices and he got me my job", Carmen rolled her eyes, "you try and give that guy math stuff and you see how it turns out! Besides, not many people actually knew who he was, they're not very into motorsport, only a couple of them!", she teased.

"Agreed! The only way I was able to have my own company was because I name dropped Lewis, who I didn't know at the time. He doesn't know his numbers all that well. It's so easy for them to point fingers, but it's really just because they hate to see a powerful woman get the job done", you offered, seeing your partners arrive to the table along Laura.

"Social media is going crazy about you, Y/N!", Laura, one of the team's social media managers said while you had lunch, "there's people who spent the whole morning trying to find out who you were and they were faling to find your accounts. Apparently, they were looking in model agencies and such until someone pointed out you studied at the same university as them, and it's pointed them in the right direction I'd say?", she shrugged her shoulders, showing you her phone as she scrolled through media, "they're still trying to find out more, but they only have a few articles from your company and a picture of you when you graduated that is on the university's Wall of Fame!", she made you giggle, fondly looking at the wall of pictures you saw everyday on your way to lectures.

"Are you on the Wall of Fame and didn't tell us, Y/N?", Carmen exclaimed at the new information, "it's barely anything, I'm still there probably because someone forgot to remove the picture", you blushed, suddenly feeling like the table's attention was on you.

"Why would they take out the picture of the most beautiful woman with the most achievements?", Lewis charmed, holding your hand in his as he smiled.

"Are you guys ready for the race? If all goes well, we can get back to the points!", Suzie cheered as she handed you and Carmen your bottles of water.

"Lew has been beating himself up a lot lately, hopefully everything works in their favour", you held your hands together after setting the water bottle on the counter.

It was very touch and go, but the boys ended up with good results given the position they started in.

"Congrats, my love!", you said in Lewis' ear as he squeezed your torso over the barrier, delighting the sight of everyone who was watching and seeing the happy couple, "couldn't have done it without you, gorgeous girl", he yelled back, stealing a kiss before running to the mechanics.

"I'm just going to check where Suzie is and then we can go for dinner, guys", Toto stated, squeezing George's and Lewis' shoulders before checking is phone to see if his wife had seen the text he sent about said dinner.

"The F1 Academy paddock is closed, you can see it from here that nobody is there", George pointed out as his boss frowned.

"I would help you, but I have to go and look for Carmen, too", George scratched his cheek as they walked along the corridor, seeing Lewis open his driver's room door and slumping his shoulders slightly, "Y/N is not here either".

"Where have the Mercedes missus gone...?", Toto muttered.

It didn't take then long to hear the mix of your three giggles coming from the lounging area, the three of you sat in the smaller sofas around a coffee table, hot drinks in your hands as you discussed something avidly but in a relaxing way still.

"Are the three of you willing to have dinner with the three of us? We'll still let you speak between yourselves, okay? It's like we won't even be there!", Toto joked.

#lewis hamilton imagine #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton fanfic #lewis hamilton fluff #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic

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awritessomething · 5 months

Note

Don’t know if you take requests but I really want a fic with Pierre where y/n is a presenter for Sky Sports or something and they start having an affair. Maybe they sleep together after his podium when his gf isn’t in the paddock and then it starts to become and regular occurrence

𝐏𝐨𝐬𝐭-𝐑𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐰𝐬 | pierre gasly x fem!reader

requests

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 | Pierre’s girlfriend manages to not be in the paddock for his podium. Someone else steps in to do what she should’ve done.

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 | smut, cheating, swearing, protected sex, straight to the point, dom!pierre, sub!reader, doggystyle, slight degrading, missionary, oral m!receiving, hair pulling, no aftercare.

also yes I do take requests ty for leaving one 🫶

After a long and treacherous race in Zandvoort, Pierre managed to snag third place by 3 seconds. The Alpine team was going insane over his podium as it was the second Alpine podium of the season. He got out of the car as soon as he was free to do so and ran over to his team who were all there to congratulate him.

There wasnt much time between the moment he got out of his car and before the interview that he was about to have to do. There was a younger woman with Sky Sports who was there to work with him. Walking up to him with a smile on her face, she motioned for her cameraman to follow. Pierre turned to her and walked forwards to meet her halfway.

“Good afternoon, Pierre. It was a good race, right?” She asked with a smile. His eyes swept over her quickly, so quickly that it probably wasn’t even all that noticeable to anyone except for her.

“Yes, I mean third is always a good way to end so uh… I’m happy.” Pierre answered with a quick nod. Her eyes narrowed on him for a moment.

“That’s great. Can you tell us a bit about what you had to do?”

“Yeah.” Pierre licked his lips before telling her a bit about what had happened during the race and what he was thinking. She tilted her head slightly as she listened to him talking. Pierre stuttered for a second as he saw how she looked at him.

“Thank you. Congratulations by the way.” They finished up the interview. She glanced back at her cameraman to confirm that they weren’t filming anymore. He nodded and started to walk a bit away to give her some space.

“Did you like the race?” Pierre asked a bit more boldly now that the cameras were away.

“I did. You’re an impressive driver.” She whispered and swayed slightly.

“Thank you.” Pierre kept his voice quiet as well. They both had the same kind of idea as to what they might be doing.

“Of course. So, are you sticking around in Zandvoort for a while longer?”

“Ah, not too much longer. My girlfriend is waiting for me at home I believe.” Her brows raised, feigning surprise. She acted as if she didn’t know that Kika wasn’t there.

“She’s not here tonight?” She tried her best to sound shocked to try and fool Pierre into thinking that she didn’t arrive with these intentions.

“She is not.” He fell for what she was doing for just a moment but then he put it together.

“Too bad.” She tsked softly. “You know, if I was her, I wouldn’t miss a single race. I would want to be there for everything.” She said, shrugging. Pierre raised his brow and smirked.

“Would you be able to?” Pierre was a bit intrigued by this idea. She was a bit surprised that he was actually going along with what she was saying, but she surely wouldn’t be complaining.

“My job is to follow the races. I’m at almost all of them. It would be no problem.” She smiled up at him, a look in his eyes that he could recognize in pretty much any woman. He cleared his throat as someone called his name to go and do his other post-race duties.

“I’ve got to go.” Pierre turned to leave.

“Wait.” She called out. He turned to see her. She reached into her pocket and pulled out her card. “If you think of anything else that i might want to hear about… call me.” She handed it to him. He glanced down at it and then back at her.

“I will. See you.” Pierre held onto the card and then walked away. She watched him go before running off to go and do other interviews with other drivers.

Later that night, around nine at night or so, she was laying in her bed at her hotel. She was on her phone, just scrolling through her phone and occasionally texting a friend or two. There was a call that showed up on her screen from an unknown number. She picked up the phone and put it up to her ear.

“Hello?” She asked, a bit confused as to who would have her number.

“Room 321. Be there in five minutes.” Pierre spoke into the phone. She recognized his voice.

“Ill be there.” That was all she said and then hung up the phone. Everyone with Formula 1 was staying in one hotel. Every team, every media person, they were all in that hotel. Most of the drivers were out partying, but apparently Pierre wasn’t.

She got out of bed, slipped on her shoes and a jacket, and then walked out of her room. She put her hood over her head to hide her face and made her way to room 321. Five minutes later, she was there. Before she could even knock on the door, it was opening and she was being pulled inside.

“Anyone see you?” Pierre asked as he locked the door. She shook her head.

“No. No one.” She breathed out and looked up at Pierre with wide eyes.

“Good.” He muttered and then leaned forwards and kissed her. His stubble was rough against her face but she welcomed the sting. Her hands flew to his hair as he shoved her against the door, already reaching for the bottom of her shirt. “Jump.” He grumbled against her lips and tapped on her thighs. She did as he said and he caught her, holding her by her thighs. Her head fell back as he kissed her neck before tugging off her shirt and unclasping her bra.

“Pierre…” She moaned his name as he nibbled on the sensitive parts of her neck. Her back arched off of the door, chest pressing against his.

“Mhm..?” He hummed, not even pulling away from her for a moment as his lips moved to her breasts, taking one of her nipples into his mouth. She whined and her head fell to the side.

“Condom?”

“In my wallet. I’ll get it in a minute.” He sighed and then took her off of the door and carried her over to his bed. She laid on the bed and tugged off her pants and panties, watching as he took off his own shirt while getting the condom from his wallet.

“You were ready for this?” She teased him lightly. Pierre scoffed.

“You never know.” He smiled and went to take off his belt. She shook her head and moved forwards so she was sitting on the edge of the bed. Her hands went to his belt and she removed it for him, throwing it aside as she pushed down his pants. He stepped out of them, along with his boxers. His breath hitched as he watched her take the condom from his hands and then set it aside.

“Think you can wait for a minute?” She asked, looking up at him. Pierre shrugged. One of her hands went to his cock, stroking him a few times experimentally. His head fell back as he groaned.

He stood in front of her, hands resting on the back of her head as she took him into her mouth. Her eyes met his as she swirled her tongue around his tip before beginning to suck him off. His brows knit together as he closed his eyes. Pierre hadn’t had another woman touch him ever since he started dating his girlfriend. He forgot how good foreign touch could feel.

His hips thrusted towards her mouth and she closed her eyes as tears pricked at the corners of them. He held her head still as he began to fuck her mouth, head falling back as he did. She listened to the sounds that came from the tip of his cock hitting the back of her throat repeatedly. Her nose pressed against his abdomen as he pushed her head down as far as it could go.

With just a few more quick thrusts into her mouth, his cum spurted down her throat. She had her hands holding onto his thighs to stabilize herself as she swallowed around his cock, making him grunt from the odd sensation. Pierre pulled out of her mouth and looked down at her as she coughed.

“You swallow?” Pierre gripped her jaw and made her open her mouth. She opened her mouth and stuck out her tongue. “That’s what I thought.” He gave her cheek a gentle smack as she smiled up at him. He reached down and picked up the condom from beside where she was sitting and ripped the package open. She watched with interest in her eyes as he slid the rubber onto his cock.

He pushed her back onto the bed and then positioned himself over her. He knew he couldn’t really just ram into her, so he reached between their bodies and circled his fingers over her clit for a moment to just make sure she was ready. She gasped as she felt his tip press up against her entrance. Pierre looked into her eyes for a moment but then just decided to watch as he bullied his cock into her hole. A choked moan left her lips as she was almost about to run her hands down his back. He shook his head and pinned her wrists to the bed.

“There can’t be any proof that we did this.” He hissed. She nodded and any other thoughts left her mind as he started to slowly thrust into her. Each drag of his cock inside of her was perfect. Her walls were tight around him, molding to fit his cock perfectly. She could feel each vein, each little part of him.

Pierre pulled his hips back so he was almost pulling out of her completely, and then ramming back into her with more force until he was sure that she was ready. His hands gripped onto her hips as he leaned back. He pulled her hips flush against his. She shuddered.

His thrusts were rough and there was absolutely no sort of romanticism or friendliness in their actions. Just pure lust. Pierre had obviously done this before. The kisses that he had left on her neck had been rough, but not enough to leave any marks whatsoever. The grip he had on her hips was tight, but it was just borderline bruising. He knew how to do it just right. Her eyes rolled back into her head.

Pierre grunted with almost every thrust as he watched it knock the air from her. Her moans were muffled with one of his hands moving to cover her mouth. He wasn’t leaving any chances of them being caught and she wasn’t complaining. If anyone found out that they were having sex, both of their reputations would be destroyed. She would probably lose her job too.

They both knew the risks, but neither seemed to care as they fucked like animals in the hotel room. It must’ve been around 10 at night before the other drivers began to even start returning to the hotel. They were still going at it. His eyes met hers as he fucked himself into her still. She had lost count of how many times he had pushed her over the edge at this point. The only thing that she could see anymore was his muscles flexing in the dark room. The lights were off so that if anyone did manage to come inside, they wouldn’t be able to see what was happening.

Somehow, Pierre hadn’t managed to cum once. His stamina was evident from the long time they were able to go at it. Her cheeks were damp from the tears that had spilled from her eyes. As she was able to notice his thrusts getting a bit messier, she realized that he was nearing his climax as well.

“Fuck- I’m gonna cum.” He groaned out as his hips snapped into hers. Her legs were shaking uncontrollably around his waist. Her eyes met his again in the dark room. Pierre watched how her eyes seemed to widen slightly with each thrust, but then narrowed every time he was pulling back.

With a few more thrusts of his hips against hers, their skin met for the first time in a while. He came into the condom, she could feel the warmth inside of her. She fell over the edge for the final time that night. Pierre continued to buck forwards for a few seconds longer until they had both ridden out their orgasms.

Pierre pulled out of her and reached down, taking off the condom and tying it off before throwing it out. She watched as he did this and then walked across the room to put on a shirt and a pair of sweats. She sat up, catching her breath and running a hand through her hair. Standing up, she walked into the washroom to fix up her appearance. Pierre could be heard rummaging around in the room, opening the door to the balcony to let in some fresh air.

“See you at your next race, Pierre.” She said her goodbyes as she slipped on her clothes again. He nodded at her and then she left the room, heading back to her own.

That was how it all started.

After nearly every race for the rest of the season, they would end up in each others hotel rooms. If Kika wasn’t there, she was in his room. If she was there, he was in hers. It didn’t seem to matter anymore whether she was there or not, they were just always finding a way to be with each other.

After the final race in Abu Dhabi, Pierre found himself standing in front of her again. She had the microphone held up to him.

“Nice to see you again, Pierre. What did you think of the outcome of this last race?” She smiled at him as if their relationship was purely professional. They both hid what happened behind closed doors behind an innocent facade.

“Its not what I had hoped for, but it was a fine race. I’m excited for next season.” Pierre answered, leaning forwards slightly so he was a bit closer to the microphone.

“Of course. Are we expecting a great season from you, Mr. Gasly?” She asked, holding eye contact with him. He nodded.

“It will be a great season for all of us, yes.” He tried his best to sound humble. She laughed quietly at this.

“I’m looking forward to it.” She snickered. “I suppose I’ll see you next year. Congratulations.” The camera shut off and she turned to confirm it. The cameraman nodded as per usual and began to walk off. She raised a brow to silently confirm their plans for later on. He nodded. He walked away.

As expected, that night she found herself in his hotel room. She wasn’t too sure where Kika was, but that wasn’t her biggest worry. According to Pierre, she would be out for pretty much the whole night partying with the other WAGs.

Her face was pushed down into a pillow, muffling her screams as she gripped onto the sheets too. Pierre’s hands gripped onto her hips, pulling her to meet each thrust. He was not too happy with getting 13th on the final race of the season. She could feel that.

Pierre rammed into her from behind, gripping roughly onto her ass, watching how it moved as his hips snapped against it. One hand left her ass to move up her back and to her neck.

“Think you’re gonna be able to stay quiet?” He grunted into her ear as his hand moved into her hair, pulling it back. Her back arched and her eyes rolled back, lip trapped under her teeth. “I’m expecting an answer.” He growled.

“I- can stay quiet.” She choked out quietly. Her chest squeezed as she was fighting back her moans. Pierre nodded. His other hand also left her ass to clamp down over her mouth.

“Dont believe you.” He hummed against her neck. She was pulled back so she was pretty much sitting up straight as he fucked into her. His tip slammed up against her G-spot with nearly every thrust. Her clit throbbed and she sobbed into his hand.

If he was to let go of her hair, she was sure to collapse. That was just what he did. He released his grip on her hair and watched as she fell back onto her face, burying her face into the pillow again. His hand slipped underneath her to rub at her clit.

During their second or third time meeting up at night, Pierre had discovered that he took more pleasure in fucking her than with Kika. He wasn’t sure if it was from the roughness of which they had sex or whether it was the adrenaline that pumped through his veins from the thought of being caught, but something made it better.

His mind when he was fucking his girlfriend often just drifted back to her. He wondered how she might act.

His eyes were locked on the small of her back, watching how it twitched occasionally as he hit her g-spot. Her knuckles were white from how hard she was holding onto the sheets. He was worried for a moment that she may rip them. He didn’t know what he would do about that.

Pierre knew that he wouldn’t be able to last much longer this time. His stamina had seemed to go down over the last while. He could hardly contain himself with her.

As per usual, his thrusts got sloppier and he lost his rhythm. She could feel as he came into the condom once again. She moaned in satisfaction as it pushed her over the edge once more. After a moment of both of them riding out their highs, he pulled out of her again.

“Ill see you in a few months?” She asked as she got off of the bed, stumbling for a moment. Pierre touched her waist to help stabilize her. He didn’t need her getting hurt right then.

“I sure hope so.” Pierre muttered and then passed her the shirt that was now on the ground. She took it from him and slipped it on.

“Bye, Pierre.” She gave him a quick pat on the arm and then pulled on her pants before walking out of the door.

How was he supposed to go months without that?

#pierre gasly #pierre gasly smut #formula1 smut #formula 1 smut #f1 x reader #formula1 #pierre gasly x reader

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takavasen · 1 month

Text

Tumblr dashboard in Night Vale simulator

🧪homo-genius

Today's science fact:

Spiders have an open blood circulation system, which means they do not have veins and their blood is different from the blood of mammals. Unfortunately many healthcare professionals do not know this, which can lead to improper methods in...

🎙️voice_of_night_vale

Spiders are a valuable part of our community and deserve good healthcare.

But more importantly, I want everyone to know that Carlos the Scientist made this post, he is my husband and I love him very much! 💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜

🪬a-thousand-fingernails Follow

Cecil everyone knows you and Carlos are married and most of us are happy for you but you don't need to tell this in every post you make

🎙️voice_of_night_vale

Wait have I mentioned it before?

809 notes

⭐sheriffofallarts

Hah saw some loser (@ marble-eyes) bring the same girl (@ mountainbeliever343 I think, couldn't see her face clearly from the cameras) home for the third time this week lol

cmon just say you are girlfriends already dont be shy

💎marble-eyes Follow

Hey you can't just share private information like that!! And besides that is not true, I haven't brought anyone home for a long time, I don't have time for that anymore!!!

🟡secretly-in-your-home

No. I can confirm that what Sam said is true. I was there. I am always there. Also, I put the rest of your cereal to your washing machine. They have been in the cupboard for a while now, I thought they were getting quite dusty and needed cleaning.

31 notes

🏀basketballpalmer Follow

We had an another great season with @nvwheelchairbasketball team again! Thank you everyone, it's an honor to be the captain of the team! See you guys next season <3

👍wallabyyy Follow

Aaaaa congratulations! I miss you guyssss

43 notes

☀️prophet-of-smiling-god

I just had the most delightful date with the most gorgeous theologist in Desert Bluffs Too!!! We had a lovely dinner at my house (some eyeball salad, mushed tarantulas and fried human fingers), watched some movies and of course made sure to serve our great Smiling God by making each other as happy as possible!! Unfortunately Charles said that it would make him unhappy if I shared the details, but I can confidently say that I have never been more joyful!!

🦷smiling-mayor Follow

Kevin, you missed a service in the Temple of Joy because of this. Surely you would remember doing that for an old friend, wouldn't you? 😊

☀️prophet-of-smiling-god

Oh, Lauren, of course I wouldn't ignore anything like that on purpose, you know how much I love tolerating you!!

98 notes

🪽not-an-angel Follow

Does anyone happen to have 10 bucks?

You can send them here: absolutely-not-a-scam-link

🌟erikaaaaaaa Follow

Does anyone happen to have 10 bucks?

You can send them here: absolutely-not-a-scam-link

💵ex-vanston Follow

Does anyone happen to have 10 bucks?

You can send them here: absolutely-not-a-scam-link

💡erika-the-black-one Follow

Does anyone happen to have 10 bucks?

You can send them here: absolutely-not-a-scam-link

3 notes

😎violentfootstool-deactivated20230416

Hey guys, so I just spoke to the new scientist lady and found out I don't actually have three pairs of arms. The lower two were just robot limbs that I tried out when I was seven years old and forgot to take them off. So hows your day ://

🔬janet-lubelle

I am always happy to help with explaining your problems away.

🎀tinfoilforteeth

Hey bitch how is it going under the cow

754 notes

🎙️voice-of-night-vale

Alright, I'm going to say it. Steve Carlsberg does NOT know how to be a basketball coach. He knows nothing about any game structures, and he only allows one ball per game!! He talks too loud, except when you can't hear him. It will be ALL HIS FAULT if we end up losing this season!!!!!

🌠lines-in-the-sky Follow

🎙️voice-of-night-vale

For everyone who finds this post now: I made this many years ago. Things have changed a lot. I'm very sorry, Steve. I couldn't hope for a better brother-in-law. You are my best friend, and I was the irrational one in this situation.

I have changed the way I look at people. I will not treat them the same way I used to treat Steve anymore.

1,642 notes

🎙️voice-of-night-vale

Alright, who let Susan Willman be in charge of anything? She is the absolute worst at making desicions, like, who asks an obelisk its NAME? She had an oppoturnity to ask almost anything, and that's what she chose?? She better stay away from our way for at least seven decades, and keep her "Huntokar"-nonsense with herself!!!

11 notes

#fake dashboard #wtnv #welcome to night vale #unreality #this took way too long

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cranberryjuice-posts · 2 months

Note

hiii want to say that i just met your blog and i obsessed with it!! i really love your writing. anddd i want to make a abby request, abby and reader are in college and abby is like super popular and when they start to date reader is called “abbys girl” all the time and get super flustered? i dont know if i express myself good, english is not my first language, sorry! hope u have a amazing day, xoxo <3

- Abby’s girl -

Pairings - modern au! Abby Anderson x Fem! Reader

An - this is kinda bad I’m sorry 😭😭 I wasn’t really sure what plot to write but I still appreciate the request.

Everybody was cheering. With only a minute left on the clock the Seattle wolves vrs the Jackson mustangs— one of the oldest lasting rivals on and off the court, were pushing one another around trying to keep Abby from making her shot.

The blonde dodged around trying to avoid the other team. Making it to the 3 point line she threw the ball. Going through the hoop the clock blared at the same time, the referees announced the wolves win making the home side scream with excitement.

Abby shouted happily, making eye contact with you she grinned. Making your way out of the stands was easier said then done.

Eventually getting to the locker room you walked towards Abby’s spot. One of her teammates walked past you taking a moment to say hi. “Shit It’s Abby’s girl, hey she’s just over there the girls are cheering for her”

You felt your face turn red, “oh thanks” with a smile you watched as she walked away before going towards the shouting. Being the girlfriend of the basketball team captain tended to help boost your own reputation. Most of them didn’t know your name only addressing you as ‘Abby’s girl’.

Was it your preferred way of being addressed… well no. But it wasn’t the end of the world, all it did really was embarrass you.

Setting your purse down by Abby’s duffel bag on the bench you watched as the girls other girls crowded around her, chanting Abby’s name while they all celebrated their big win which would now take them to state. You were and always will be Abby’s biggest supporter, no matter what you would never miss any of her games.

She instantly noticed your presence, breaking free abby quickly made her way to you. Grabbing you by the waist she pulled you into a messy kiss. It was full of adrenaline and not coordinated. Pulling back Abby kept her face close to yours. A few of the other girls on the team chuckled at the display making you blush. “Hey” abby flirted against your lips.

“Hi” You giggled “You did amazing out there.. I mean really I genuinely believe Your Gonna win this thing”

“And im Gonna do even better tonight” she continued her cocky streak, pressing your hips against hers.

You rolled your eyes finding her attempts at seduction funny. “Uh huh, I’m gonna wait for you outside ok” kissing her one more time you gasped as she grabbed your ass. You rolled your eyes as you pulled back, giving her a warning look as Abby remained on her high.

—

You sat down on a bench near by the exit. Pulling out your phone you started to scroll on Instagram, trying to decided what to make a post about. That and finding a new restaurant near by to take Abby to, just to celebrate her big win before she actually tried to get you pregnant.

“So your Abby’s girl huh?” A woman spoke. Looking up you were taken back by seeing Ellie Williams the Jackson mustangs team captain.

Confused you nodded “uh yeah..”

She just scoffed. “How the hell did she manage to pull you” standing up you grabbed your purse, Ellie knew you had been offended by what she said.

“First of all she didn’t pull anyone, how we got into a relationship was because she’s a good person and secondly” you looked her up and down “why are you even over here, your bus is on the other side of campus”

“Damn, I was just asking” she laughed crossing her arms “but seriously though Abby? Her being a good person, that’s total bullshit she’s anything but good, besides I can do anything she does”

“Except win a Game”

You could tell Ellie was starting to loose her patience. Why was she over by you, to hell if you knew. There was a tense silence between you both, before she could speak the back door opened.

Abby stood tall and strong as always only her former grin was replaced with a look of disgust. Getting up you walked over to her, kissing her cheek. “Williams”

“Anderson”

Both girls staring at each-other with a Look of hate, You had heard Time and time again the rivalry between the two schools and between their families. “Why are You over here, and better question why are you talking to my girl”

“Fuck dude nobody’s trying to fight Dina just forgot her bag inside I offered to come get it.” Ellie looked at one once again before gesturing her head to Abby. “Your Girl seems like a real catch, guess you got lucky”

“Guess i did” her response was harsh. At this point you were fed up with the conversation and dealing with Ellie. Grabbing Abby’s hand you pulled her away.

——

Sitting on Abby’s bed you laughed softly at watching her go on a rant. “And don’t get me started on Joel the sheer fucking audacity of that man! He punched my dad because he couldn’t help Ellie. I repeat he punched MY DAD— why are you laughing”

“Nothing Nothing its Just.. your really cute when you get mad” Abby flipped you off making you laugh once again. After a moment she sat down on the bed beside you, taking a calming breath she leaned over kissing you softly, slowly, sensually.. pulling back she gently squeezed your hand.

“What did I do to deserve you” she muttered.

“Not much but working out and getting buff and being blonde helped, you know the important shit” you gave her a charismatic smile

“Your not Funny”

“I’m hilarious”

#lesbian #wlw #abby anderson fluff #abby anderson tlou2 #abby headcanons #abby anderson x reader #abby the last of us #abby tlou #abby x reader #abby anderson #tlou fluff #tlou fanfiction #tlou2 #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us

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traveler-at-heart · 8 months

Text

Flirt

Based on this post

WandaNat x Fem!SuperSoldier R

Nothing too serious, just silly stuff

Can you hear me calling Out your name? You know that I'm falling And I don't know what to say

Wanda hums along as she chops vegetables, glancing over at the casserole to check the water. As she moves over to get a pan, she feels a presence behind her.

“Hi there” you say and she blushes. Coming back from a training sesion, you’re desperate for some water so you reach behind her, trapping Wanda between your body and the countertop. “I’m sorry, I’m all sweaty and invading your space”

“It’s ok” she says, turning back to look at you. Her heart flutters with your half smile, as you finally take a glass and fill it with water. She misses your warmth instantly.

“Smells incredible” you comment, looking to the stove.

“Here” she offers you a taste and you let her feed you. Wanda’s eyes never leave your mouth, especially when you moan at the taste. “I made extra, in case you want some”

“Absolutely. Let me shower first and I’ll do the dishes, yes?”

“Ok” she nods, her hand dropping. Wanda’s too distracted to notice it is dangerously close to the fire, so she lets out a small whine as she jumps away from the heat.

“Come here” you inspect the small burn, and put her hand under the sink so the water helps with the pain. “Better?”

“I can also use magic”

“Well, maybe I wanted to hold your hand” you tease, and bring it to your lips. “There. I won’t be long”

“Yeah, ok”

Wanda smiles as you leave the room. She’s definitely asking you out soon.

—

“I’m almost done” Natasha mutters, inspecting the mess of wires.

“I’m not complaining” you say. She’s sitting on your shoulders, propped up to get a better look at the security system that was glitching.

Your hands are on her thighs. She’s pretty sure you don’t realize it, but from time to time you run them up and down her legs or squeeze when she seems frustrated with Tony’s stupid system.

Truth be told, she may have done it quicker if she had a ladder. You could be… distracting.

“You’re so tight” you say out of nowhere and she almost falls from your shoulders.

“Pardon?”

“I meant tense” you look up to meet her eyes.

“Don’t give me those puppy eyes” she complains, upset that you were able to get a reaction out of her. You always can.

“Can a super soldier give puppy eyes? I thought we were big and scary”

“You definitely can”

“What else have you noticed about me?”

Natasha continues to work quietly, and you figure she’s either angry or simply not in the mood to entertain you. Silence lingers for a few more minutes until she speaks again.

“You always smell like cinnamon”

“Do I?”

“Yes, even after the most physically demanding mission. The boys stink, even Barnes and Rogers”

“Thanks, I guess”

“If you tell anyone I said this I will deny it and kick your ass. And I’m all done here so you can put me down”

“Alright” you change your positions as if she weights nothing, but manage to carry her bridal style. Natasha glares, but your laugh is enough to hold her back.

“Since you worked so hard to fix this, why don’t I make you lunch and give you a nice massage, princess?”

She blushes at the pet name.

“Lead the way”

—

It’s movie night at the Compound. For the first time in months, the entire team is together, no urgent missions or new recruits to train.

Wanda keeps looking to the door, hoping you’ll join her on the couch.

Natasha is trying to be casual about it, but she is also waiting for you.

But minutes go by without any sign of you. Wanda has no choice but to make room for Vision and Natasha hoards a whole bowl of popcorn, feeling defeated.

“Are we missing anyone?” Steve looks around the room.

“Y/N” Wanda says too fast for Natasha’s liking.

“I believe she is out with a woman” Vision replies.

“What?”

“Who?”

Wanda and Natasha speak at the same time. They look at Vision and then at each other. Wanda tilts her head and Natasha glares, daring her to do something.

“She said it was a special occassion. But I’m afraid I don’t know anything else. I sense you are both upset about it”

“I don’t care” Natasha turns to the screen, sinking in her seat.

Wanda lifts a finger and the movie starts, making it clear that she won’t answer any questions.

“What’s happening here?” Steve says and Bucky slaps his back.

“You really don’t wanna know”

—

You go back to the Compound a day later.

“Welcome back, Casanova” Sam says with a wicked grin.

“Huh?”

“Y/L/N” Steve shows up a second later. “There’s a mission. Wanda and Natasha are joining you for an extraction”

“I’ll go get changed”

“Try not to piss them off any more” he warns, but seems too flustured to explain himself.

His words echo in your head while you get changed and step into the Quinjet. The last time you spoke with Wanda was during dinner; you left after your lunch with Natasha.

Why would they be upset?

“Hi, there” you greet both of them, but are met with silence. “Uh… you want me to fly the Quinjet?”

“No” is all Natasha says.

“Did I do something…?” you begin to ask, looking between both women. With a sudden shake, the Quinjet takes off and you fall to the back, hitting your head against the wall.

Wanda doesn’t ask if you’re ok. You figure it’s better to stay quiet for the rest of the ride.

“So what’s the plan?” you ask as Natasha lands, but both women ignore you and walk in different directions.

Damn it, what the fuck is going on? And who are you supposed to follow?

“Move” Natasha barks and you go after her.

“Six guards ahead” she warns you a second too late. You knock them down while Natasha stares, but still shoots a couple of widow bites and two of them land on your back.

“What the fuck, Nat?” you complain.

“My aim is really bad today”

“Bullshit, your aim is better when you’re pissed off”

“Why would I be pissed off?” she challenges you as more guards arrive.

“I have no idea”

“You think you can flirt with me and then go away with another woman?” she kicks a couple of guys, mainly on the balls. They don’t stand a chance against her sudden anger.

“What?! You mean yesterday when I left for my mother’s birthday party?”

“Huh?” the redhead turns to you, and misses the man that is sprinting straight towards her. You push her aside and crash against him, going through a glass wall.

“Asshole” you complain, making sure he’s unconscious. As you begin to stand up, you notice a shrad of glass sticking out of your abdomen. “Fucking great”

“Wait, don’t take it out” Natasha kneels next to you, but you pull it, groaning in pain.

“It will heal in a minute” you ease her. “Now, the other thing. Yes, I was flirting, but I didn’t think you’d like me back. Or Wanda for that matter. You’re both way out of my league”

“I’m sorry”

“It’s fine, really” you check to see the bleeding stopped and then stand up. “Let’s get the intel”

“Wanda, where are you?” Natasha calls through comms.

“Engaged in battle” the Sokovian says. “Would be nice to have some back up”

“I’ll go” you offer and Natasha nods, heading to the computer room.

“Hey, Wands, I’m he…” you greet and as soon as she sees you, red envelopes you. Wanda uses you as a wrecking ball to knock down five guys. “Ok, that was not nice”

She tilts her head and you feel your blood run cold as her eyes go red. You’re launched across the room to knock down more agents.

“Do you plan to use me like a boomerang every time there’s another enemy on sight?”

“Maybe” she says, shrugging her shoulders.

“I got the intel, let’s go” Natasha shows up, helping you up.

“Oh, I see, she managed to convince you she’s not bad”

“It’s all a missunderstanding” Natasha defends you.

“Oh, yeah, I bet it is” Wanda steps forward and you have to stand between them before they start fighting each other.

“Can we finish this back at the Compound, please?”

But they won’t stop arguing and you’re seriously considering just carrying both of them back to the jet.

You’re ready to do just that when a man throws grenades at you.

“Get down” you warn, pushing them away. You’re thrown back with the blast, feeling how your left arm, leg and a couple of ribs shatter.

That’s gonna take a little longer to heal.

“Y/N” Wanda floats to you, while Natasha covers her back and shoots at the guards. Each woman helps you up, and you jump on one leg to the jet.

“I’m ok” you reassure them as they set you down. “The bones are healing. It’s just a bit… uncomfortable”

“I’m sorry… for the way I acted” Wanda looks between both of you. Natasha sets the jet on autopilot and walks to you, arching her eyebrows.

“I can’t really blame Wanda, Y/N. You were being a tease after all” she says with a playful smirk. “What I’d like to know is how you’ll make it up to us now”

“Well" you smile in spite of the pain. "I can think of a few ways”

—

Steve knocks on your door.

“Rogers” you open, barely showing your face.

“You ok? I heard you had a rough time during the mission”

“It’s fine. You know how it is. We’re fast healers”

“That’s not exactly what I meant. It seems like you upset Wanda and Natasha. Whatever it is you did, I hope you find a way to fix it”

“She did” Natasha opens the door wider, wearing one of your shirts. “Thank you for your concern, Steve”

“Get back to bed” Wanda calls and Steve blushes.

“Is there anything else?” Natasha says and he looks to the ceiling.

“Nope”

“Good. If you’ll excuse us” she shuts the door in his face and pushes you against the bedroom wall.

“Have I told you I’m really sorry?” you say, mildly scared and very turned on. Natasha pushes you to the floor until you’re on your knees. Wanda follows your every move with eager eyes.

“Yes. But one more time couldn’t hurt”

#wanda maximoff x reader #Natasha Romanoff x Reader #WandaNat x Reader

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rascal-xo · 1 year

Text

How They React to Gossip | 141 + Rudy + Alejandro |

Warnings: None

Tags: @whirly-birbs @fiveshelmet @madamemelancholysstuff

A/N: For those who requested something and didn’t get a response, i’ll be getting those works posted soon :)

————————————————————————————

~ Ghost ~

- Definitely knows about it before anyone else but won’t ever bring it up. (Bro always sees and hears everything about everyone)

- Will act like he doesn’t care, but still is listening to every word

- Will suddenly go “Fucking hell.” and then realize he actually said it out loud when everyone pauses and turns to look at him.

- Will 100% be smirking under his mask when somethings funny but won’t laugh out loud. (Resting Ghost Face and all, gotta keep up the rep)

- Will give the most dangerous fucking side eye when someone says something horrendously out of pocket

- Will definitely zone out if he gets bored

~ Price ~

- Is just passing by the break room when he overhears something out of the ordinary and has to do a double take to walk back towards the group and make sure he heard it correctly

- Will either be the moral compass of the gossip session or will go full out with his own insults

- Stands there with his arms crossed and eyes squinted slightly listening to the words coming from his team.

- Will say something like “We’re soldiers, not desperate housewives.” But will later laugh to himself thinking about the wild accusations and drama.

- Definitely gossips with Laswell on the downlow

~ Gaz ~

- Enjoys every second of pure steaming gossip, especially if it’s coming from his Soap

- Will subtly pry for more information but when Soap teases him about it he’ll be like “Alright you can piss off, I don’t even wanna know now.”

- Won’t even hide the fact he wants to laugh, will be close to doubling over in hysterics if it gets to be that crazy

- *High pitched british shock*

~ SOAP ~

- Bro cant contain himself when it comes to juicy drama in the workplace

- He’s here for the tea, ALL the tea

- Is 10000% the one who started spreading the gossip in the first place.

- Will talk everyone’s ear off about who he saw with who the other day and what not

- Don’t get him started cause he won’t stop

- ends every gossip session lowkey leaving everyone stunned and wanting to hear more

~ Alejandro ~

- takes in any and all gossip in stride and fires off MANY witty remarks about it

- He enjoys poking fun at others jokingly. it’s apart of his charm (duh)

- Will be be doubling over in hysterical laughter, probably bringing Rudy or Soap down with him

- If the gossip is about Valeria, bro will NOT hold back. Shots upon shots will be fired do not get him started

~ Rudy ~

- Doesn’t add to the gossip, but enjoys every second of hearing his teammates losing their minds over juicy drama they’ve heard

- Will be laughing along with Alejandro but will say “Dios mío, It’s not funny, we shouldn’t be laughing!”

- Stands back with his eyes open wide in shock and red in the face from what he’s hearing

- The out of pocket things that come from Alejandro’s mouth about Valeria definitely keep this poor man up at night

** BONUS ** GRAVES

- is the gossip.

1K notes · View notes

suzukiblu · 6 months

Text

Day six of fic NaNoWriMo, obligatory sugar daddy Tim/sugar baby Kon.

"You're bluffing," the thief says flatly.

"And you're fucking stupid if you think this is the play that's getting you out of here," Kon snorts, tapping a foot against the floor. "C'mon, man, give it up. I've got plans tonight."

"Use the artifact!" the alleged "Mark" yells at the thief holding it.

"Right!" said thief says, then . . . pauses, and looks embarrassed. "How do I . . . do that?"

Kon looks incredibly unimpressed. Tim empathizes. Deeply.

"You guys need a minute there?" Kon asks, raising an eyebrow.

"Shut up!" Mark snaps at him. "Just use it, Lisa!"

"I thought you said no names–"

"Use it!"

"Uh, right!"

The thief chucks the little clay goat at Kon. Tim is genuinely embarrassed for this entire crew.

Kon catches the goat one-handed, which is kind of a stupid idea, but letting it smash on the floor admittedly wouldn't look great. People over property, obviously, but Kon also historically has issues with property damage and letting the bad guys smash up ancient artifacts is not the best plan in general anyway. Especially given how often said ancient artifacts have ghosts or curses or apocalypses locked inside them.

"Lisa!" the thieves all yell in horror.

"Was this the whole plan?" Kon asks, making a show of inspecting the goat. "Like, was this it? I can come back later, if you're still cooking on that."

Tim muffles a laugh with a snort. Kon definitely caught it, though, judging by his smug smirk.

"Shut up, wannabe!" the thief still holding a gun to Tim's head snarls, which reminds Tim he should be pretending to care about the gun currently being held to his head. Honestly, he would in Gotham, but the only way this moron is shooting anybody is by accident.

. . . admittedly, that is a concern, given the trigger discipline issue. Hm.

"Killing me would probably count as felony murder, just so you know," Tim mentions, glancing around the thieves. "Which you could all be charged with, not just whoever actually shot me. Plus I'm pretty sure stealing objects of cultural heritage from a museum is a federal crime."

He's completely sure of all that, actually, for obvious reasons, but he has to at least pretend to be a civilian here. Like, some effort needs to go into that illusion, if for no other reason than to avoid a Bat-lecture from Bruce or, worse, a Bat-"I'm not mad, just disappointed" from Dick.

Or, worst, Alfred might make disapproving shortbread instead of approving jammy dodgers for post-patrol tonight. That'd be really unfortunate. Tim could really use an approving jammy dodger tonight. He's already going to have to write up a very annoying incident report of this situation as it is, and also deal with the mortification of getting his neck saved by a Super. There is no dignity in that. At all.

He is definitely never telling the team his secret identity. At least not until he's absolutely positive Kon hasn't inherited any of Superman's eidetic memory, anyway. He's ninety-nine percent sure he hasn't, but that last percent is a definite concern right now.

"No one asked your opinion, brat!" Mark snaps, though a few of the other thieves now look extremely uneasy. Tim makes another mental note about their crew's obvious lack of prep time and general planning and continues to be embarrassed for them. Museum robberies in Gotham are themed events with careful research and preparation involved, and frankly usually involve more thoughtful effort than whatever gala they may or may not be crashing did. Smash and grab is for convenience stores and small-timers. And these guys are definitely small-timers, but this is equally definitely not a convenience store.

Metropolis is so weird. Why anyone even bothers doing petty crime in it at all is beyond Tim. Maybe they're just banking on Superman being more concerned with natural disasters and alien invasions and rescuing cats from trees, which is a valid strategy. Same theory as splitting up and making a cohesive group into multiple targets.

"He has the idol!" Lisa hisses, glaring at Kon like she's not the one who threw it at him to begin with. Tim gets a gun barrel jammed into his temple again. He has no idea why Trigger Discipline: What Not To Do thinks that's, like . . . a productive thing to do. At this rate he's going to get a bruise or something.

Well, he's not actually doing it hard enough to hurt, admittedly, though Tim does keep expecting it to. The guy looks like he's putting his back into it, but the impacts continue not to actually hurt, so Tim supposes he's just trying to put on a show here.

Well, at least he's putting in some effort, Tim supposes. That's something.

"I really do have plans tonight, you know," Kon reminds them, raising an eyebrow at the thieves again.

"I would appreciate you delaying those, actually," Tim mentions. "If you don't mind, I mean."

"Oh, yeah, don't sweat it, dude," Kon says, waving him off. "These people are annoying but I'm not gonna ditch out on you here, that's not your fault."

"Don't ignore us!" one of the unnamed thieves yells. "And give the idol back!"

"I have no idea why you would expect me to do that," Kon says.

"I'll shoot!" the thief holding Tim threatens, jamming the gun barrel into his head again.

"I mean, I'm pretty sure that dude was right about the felony murder thing, so maybe don't?" Kon says, inspecting the little clay goat again. "Hm. This thing is actually kinda cute."

"It is, isn't it," Tim agrees. "I thought it looked like a kid's toy."

"Oh yeah, I can see that," Kon says, squinting assessingly at it. "Like those chunky toddler ones?"

"Yeah, like those," Tim confirms with a nod. "Fisher-Price, Duplo, that kind of thing."

"I'll take your word on that one, man, my 'toddler' stage only lasted about half a day and I was sedated for it," Kon replies in amusement. Tim seethes internally and thinks very uncharitable thoughts about Cadmus.

"I said I'll shoot!" the thief holding him says furiously, tightening his arm across Tim's neck. It's still not actually enough to hurt, but again, Tim appreciates seeing a little more effort. "Give us the idol, you stupid brat!"

"I'm trying to help you out here," Kon says, looking exasperated. "You're just making shit worse for yourself the longer you keep this up. Put down the gun and let the guy go, you'll get a way lighter sentence."

"Fuck you!" the thief shouts. "The power of the idol will protect us!"

"The idol that I am currently holding, you mean?" Kon says, hefting it meaningfully. "The one that is in specifically my possession and not yours?"

Tim does understand that talking people down is the preferred approach and Kon can't actually super-speed this problem away, but Kon could at least pretend to be taking this seriously. From his perspective, there's a civilian hostage with a gun to their head and an angry criminal with their finger on the trigger, but he's acting like there isn't any danger in the situation at all.

Tim gets the posturing thing and the general "cooler than thou" attitude Kon likes to present, but it's definitely not making any of the thieves calm down. Like, not at all is it making any of the thieves calm down.

This incident report is going to be very annoying to write.

"It's not yours!" Lisa shrieks at him.

"You literally threw it at me," Kon says. "I only have it because you threw it at me. Also pretty sure it's not yours either, given all the screaming alarms and broken glass and the smashed-in wall I am currently standing in the wreckage of."

Tim starts wondering if maybe he should revisit his "tripping" plan. He doesn't really want to pull any Robin-esque moves in front of Kon, but also dying would really fuck up all that hard work he's put into being Bruce's emotional support sidekick. Also two dead Robins in a row could not possibly end well. Especially in such a stupid way. Especially in Metropolis.

"You don't even know what you're holding, you idiot!" Lisa fumes.

"A toddler toy, I thought we established," Kon says. "'Doopler' or something?"

"Duplo," Tim corrects, internally calculating tripping angles.

"That one, yeah," Kon amends. "Doppo."

Tim, resignedly, thinks his determined commitment to pointlessly fucking up is adorable. Also still hates Cadmus and has the irrational urge to buy him a teddy bear or something, although Kon would definitely just think he was fucking with him if he did.

Maybe he could just smuggle one into his room and disavow all knowledge of its existence. That's an option.

"Give us the idol now!" the thief holding Tim snarls, his face twisting in rage.

"Yeah, no," Kon says.

"You little–!" the thief starts to yell, and then his trigger finger slips. Tim knows this because the gun goes off right next to his ear.

And right against his temple.

Half the room screams and the thief yells and drops the gun, recoiling in horror. It goes off again as it hits the floor and a bullet shatters a historically-significant vase the way one should have shattered Tim's personally-significant skull.

What the fuck?

"Shit, sorry, that was probably kinda loud," Kon says apologetically, wincing a little but otherwise looking completely unphased by all of that. Tim blinks, very slowly, and attempts to restore his resting heart rate. It's not a particularly successful attempt.

"Yeah, kinda," he says.

"Sorry, sound waves are harder to block," Kon apologizes, pointing at his own ear with his free hand, and Tim remembers the other's total lack of concern for any threat to civilian life this whole time and realizes that was because, from Kon's perspective, there wasn't any actual threat.

Huh.

Well, that explains why neither the gun barrel nor the being choked thing actually hurt at any point, doesn't it.

"Oh," Tim says, looking down at the floor that they are, in fact, all still standing on. "Tactile telekinesis?"

"You've heard of it?" Kon says, looking pleased.

"Once or twice," Tim says, managing not to say it too dryly. Kon looks even more pleased. "I didn't know you could use it like that, though."

"Practice makes perfect," Kon replies smugly.

#timkon #tim drake #kon el #conner kent #dc robin #superboy #young justice #young just us #rinfic #long post #wip: obligatory sugar baby kon

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jvnluvr · 1 year

Text

blue lock boys when you surprise them ! pt 1. ♡

ft. sae & kaiser x f!reader

(neo-egoist arc spoilers!! be warned)

author’s note: my last blue lock post got a lot of love and it made me more motivated, so thank you everyone! might do a part too where the roles are swapped, or with more characters. lmk by asking if you have any other requests. enjoy more bllk content, my lovely readers. <3

itoshi sae:

sae is gone a lot. you knew from the moment you got into a relationship with him that this would be the reality of your relationship. you loved him though, so even if you missed him tremendously, he would always come back home into your arms. there wasn’t much more you could ask for.

sae had gone to brazil for three games. it was a week stay, but it felt so insufferably long. maybe 3-4 days in, you were sick of being home after work not having anyone to go to or not having anything to do. so what did you do? obviously book a ticket to brazil yourself! to avoid suspicion, you told sae that you might not respond to his texts because you were going out with your friends and end up staying over at their place. (all your friends were busy that week.) but he didn’t catch anything!

you fell asleep on the flight, waking up to your landing. your heart was racing as you walked off into the airport. you’ve never really done something this grand before. surprising your boyfriend right before his game? god, you never expected to even set foot in another country for a while. all you could do was quickly rush to get a taxi, (you learned basic portuguese for this) and off you were to the stadium where his last game was being hosted.

quickly playing the driving, you ran inside. even if shidou was annoying, you thanked him for not revealing your plan to sae and helping you enter the stadium freely. “your boyfriend is a lucky one, yeah?” you could only nod in nervousness. why were you scared to see him? what if he just told you to go back home, what if he didn’t want any distractions, what if-? “c’mon he’s about to get on field, go!” shidou pushed you near the place his team was getting ready.

“hey [name]! sae didn’t tell us you were gonna’ be here.” one of his teammates grinned at you. you saw sae slowly turn around when he heard your name, an annoyed look plastered on his faces, thinking his teammates were tricking him for a stupid laugh. that was until he actually saw you, that his eyes widened.

“uh,, surprise sae?” he kind of just stood there for a second, not even being able to process the fact that you were physically standing in front of him. you only were able to feel dejected for a mere second, assuming he wasn’t happy to see you, that was until you were suddenly enveloped into a warm hug. and for a second, it felt as if you were the only two in the blazing stadium. “stupid, why are you here?” he whispered in your ear, not letting you go. despite his chosen words, his voice was filled with nothing but softness.

“cause i missed you, sae. you’re always gone, and even if i was prepared, it hurts not being with you.” you replied back. god no, you weren’t going to cry right before he went on the field. “don’t cry princess, i’m right here.” you were trying so hard to hold it in, but you couldn’t help it, he was with you, after what felt like an eternity. “thank you for surprising me, you’re the best thing i could ask for.” he kissed your forehead, still whispering so his teammates couldn’t hear the sweet nothings he reserved for you.

michael kaiser:

the ace of bastard münchen loved you very dearly. kaiser loved selectively, but the moment he laid eyes on you, he was smitten. truly, he tried to make as much time as humanly possible to spend with you but when blue lock joined the top teams, his brain had been haywire because of isagi. all he could think of was how to improve, how to crush him.

so naturally; with his brain occupied and all, he gradually started spending more and more time away from home to practice. sure, he still texted you sometimes and all, but you felt more lonely before than ever, since you were so used to kaiser being there to smother you in his love and adoration.

so when today finally came, the day where they would go up against barcha fc, it was him to finally prove he was a better player than isagi. he left super early that morning. he didn’t expect you to even try and leave the house because you studied from home, and he was going to be gone practically the whole day. to be honest, you really did want to go and surprise him at the game, but you couldn’t afford to skip class today. so you had to come up with something else grand to surprise kaiser.

so you went out after class, an hour before he was supposed to come home. you bought heart-shaped balloons, confetti, a cake, and any other decorations that you could drape onto the walls in your shared house. just before you were about to go back, you got a *ping!* from your phone.

ml michael: baby we won!!!! i’ll be home in a bit <3

you: congrats ! i’m waiting <3

you knew after that you had to rush home and get ready. gratefully your house wasn’t too far from the store. so you quickly unloaded everything from your car and put everything up in the living room, near the entrance of your house. “i hope he likes it, and isn’t too tired to just ignore everything..” you let out a slight sigh before continuing to finish up putting up the decorations.

you heard a loud engine outside and you would have been surprised if it was anyone besides kaiser. you quickly ran to shut off the lights before hiding behind the couch that faced the wall. the sound of the keys jingling as the door opened made your heart race as you held your hand over your mouth, not wanting him to even hear your breathing. “my dearest love, i’m home- huh? why are the lights off?” you couldn’t help but internally giggle at his insanely slow reaction time.

“[name], are we playing hide and seek or something? you know i’ll find you.” at that, you unintentionally rolled your eyes at his confidence. there’s no way he would expect you to be behind this couch, not to mention he hasn’t even turned the lights on- “found you.” you yelped as kaiser picked you up from behind, sitting you on his lap on the side of the couch.

“now, does my pretty girl wanna tell me why she was hiding behind the couch?” he kissed your cheek, and he swore he could see them turn red in the darkness. your entire plan? ruined. this really wasn’t the way you wanted to surprise him. “just wanted to surprise you, y‘know? you didn’t even turn on the lights silly.” kaiser gave you a confused look but nonetheless got up to turn them on. “surprise! and of course good job on winning your game today.” you smiled at him, but he just stared at you with the biggest heart in his eyes.

“you’re the cutest thing ever.” he lifted you up again and you wrapped your legs around him. “there’s a cake too, we should eat it.” you mentioned, totally forgetting that you set it out on the table. “i love you, liebe.” he couldn’t stop kissing you after that surprise.

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