#but a third and forth? this is getting absurd

[saltynsassy31]

Sees the half time report

....

Welp, pack it up guys, we in for another shiver win -_-

[mrsfancyferrari]

Want You

Summary: LN4 + "But I don't want them, I want you." 🥧🏈

Song: Sweater Weather by The Neighbourhood

Author’s note: Please like, reblog and share this! 🫶

Word count: 10.8k

You stand in the mirror, pacing back and forth as you fix your hair for the third time. Tonight is one of those nights where the universe feels electrically charged, a perfect blend of thrill and anxiety swirling in your gut.

Layla, your best friend, has just finished getting ready and is practically beaming with excitement beside you.

Her skin glows under the soft lights of your apartment, and her dress hugs her figure perfectly. You can’t help but feel slightly overshadowed by her beauty.

"Do I look okay?" you ask, biting your lip, your eyes darting from her to your reflection.

"Are you kidding? You look amazing!" Layla exclaims, twisting a lock of her hair, her eyes sparkling. "But you really need to get out there more. You’re gorgeous in your own right!”

You chuckle, brushing off her compliment with a wave of your hand. "Yeah, well, even if I am, who's going to notice when you're around? You’re the one who gets all the attention. "

"That's not true! But anyway, tonight we’re supposed to have fun, not talk about that,” she says, grabbing your shoulders and shaking you lightly. “Now, remember the plan?”

You nod, though your heart feels heavier with those words. “Right. We’re meeting Lando and the guys at the club. I just hope he doesn’t think I’m some awkward third wheel. He’s popular.”

Layla rolls her eyes playfully. “You say that every time. You two are friends. Besides, I think he likes you more than you think.”

“Whatever you say,” you respond, your mind racing back to the day Lando had randomly entered your life during a charity event you were volunteering for.

He was charming, funny, and incredibly humble for someone so famous. But the thought of anything romantic blossoming between you seemed absurd, especially when Layla was practically the embodiment of what everyone desired.

At the club, the bass vibrates through the floor, and colorful lights dance around the crowd like fireflies in the night. It’s an atmosphere alive with energy, but you feel your heartbeat quicken at the thought of seeing Lando.

You spot him near the bar, a bright smile on his face as he talks to some friends. Dressed casually, Lando is effortlessly cool, like a magnetic pull that draws everyone’s attention.

“There he is!” Layla exclaims, her excitement infectious. You watch her eyes grow wide like a child spotting a shooting star.

“Go! Go talk to him!” you nudge her, unable to keep the urge to play matchmaker at bay.

“No way! I’m not going without my wingwoman,” she whispers urgently, grabbing your wrist.

With a resigned sigh, you stride forward, Layla trailing closely behind. The moment Lando sees you, his face lights up, and he waves enthusiastically.

The way his presence commands attention is almost intoxicating.

“Hey! You made it!” he greets, pulling you in for a quick hug. You can smell his cologne, fresh and invigorating. Suddenly, your shyness mellows into warmth, though a tiny inner voice reminds you that you’re about to play cupid.

“Of course! Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” you reply, your demeanor suddenly a mix of confidence and nervous fluttering. “Lando, this is my best friend Layla. You should hang out with her more—she’s awesome!”

Layla’s cheeks flush, and a playful smirk spreads across her face, but you can’t help but feel anxiety gnawing at you.

“Nice to meet you, Layla,” Lando says, his bright green eyes sparkling with genuine curiosity. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Only good things, I hope!” Layla giggles, twirling a strand of hair around her fingers as if she wasn’t sure what to do with her hands.

“Yes, definitely,” he chuckles lightly, shooting you a glance that feels a bit mischievous. “I always wanted to meet the friend who keeps you so grounded.”

You fight to keep your composure, trying to bury the layer of jealousy creeping in. “Well, tonight’s all about celebrating. We should hit the dance floor!”

Hours pass with drinks flowing and laughter echoing. You dance, reveling in the rhythm while keeping a watchful, almost possessive gaze on Layla and Lando. They banter, and you notice how easily they connect, the chemistry undeniable.

A part of you feels satisfied, hoping for the sparks to ignite. Yet, another part steals glances at the way Lando laughs—could he truly like her?

“Hey,” you hear a familiar voice call, pulling you from your thoughts. Lando approaches, his brow slightly furrowed. “I was looking for you. Want to join us?”

You swallow, glancing at Layla, who is leaning against her car, her smile bright. “Um, sure. Just one moment.”

He watches you, a look of concern crossing his face. “Everything alright?”

You smiled, feeling a blush creep up your cheeks. “Yeah but you know, Layla really lights up the floor.”

“She does,” he nodded, taking a sip of his drink. “But I think you’re just as fun. It’s nice having both of you here.”

“Nice being here with you.” The words spilled from your mouth before you could bite them back.

Before you nerves could take over, you added, “You know, if you’re interested, Layla would love to get coffee or something. She’s crushing on you.”

A flicker of surprise crossed Lando’s face, followed by an understanding nod. “Yeah, I picked up on that. But honestly?” He paused, searching for your eyes. “I think I’d prefer hanging out with you instead."

Your breath hitched, and you felt a giddy thrill dance in your chest. “Really? You mean that?”

“Definitely,” he said, leaning forward with a grin. “You’re fun to talk to, and we have a great vibe. I really like spending time with you.”

“Wow, I… I wasn’t expecting that,” you stammered, a mixture of confusion and excitement swirling inside you. “I mean, Layla is great and all, but—”

“Look,” he interrupted gently, his eyes softening. “I don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings, but I’d love to get to know you better. Just you. No Layla.”

The morning sunlight peeked through the curtains, casting soft golden rays across the small living room where Lando and you sat. Your head ached, pounding in rhythm with your heartbeat, and the remnants of last night's festivities loomed over you like a heavy cloud.

Lando chuckled softly, shaking his head. “It wasn’t anything too wild, don’t worry. Just that you really like spending time with me… and that you might like me in a different way.”

Your face burned even hotter, a mix of embarrassment and panic flooding your senses. “Oh my god! Lando, I’m so sorry. I really didn’t mean to… I don’t remember any of that! It’s embarrassing.”

“Hey, don’t stress,” he said, a warm smile crossing his lips. “It’s not like you announced it to the whole party or anything. Just me, your trusted partner in crime. Besides, it's actually kind of sweet.”

His words were laced with a sincerity that calmed the storm brewing inside you, just a little. “You really think so?”

“Definitely,” Lando nodded, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “I mean, how often do you get to hear someone’s true thoughts when they’re tipsy? It made my night a lot better.”

“Are you serious? I was a mess!” You tossed a pillow at him, your heart still racing from the earlier confession. “I can't believe I let that slip.”

“You were not a mess, you were just… liberated,” Lando smirked, leaning back on the couch and folding his arms behind his head. “And honestly, I don’t think it’s a bad thing. In fact, it kind of makes me happy.”

“Ugh, Lando, you’re just saying that to make me feel better,” you replied, your voice wavering as you tried to muster a hint of displeasure.

“No, I’m not.” He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “I mean, how often do you get to hear someone’s true thoughts when they’re tipsy?”

“Are you serious? I was a mess!” You tossed a pillow at him, your heart still racing from the earlier confession. “I can't believe I let that slip.”

“No you weren't.” His face lit up with a smile that was infectious. “First things first, though—let’s get you over that hangover.”

You chuckled softly, grateful for the shift in energy. “Right.”

“Exactly,” Lando said, standing up and moving to the kitchen. “How do you feel about greasy food? Because I believe that’s the primary cure for hangovers.”

Your lips curved into a smile. “Always a solid choice. I could go for some toast or maybe even pancakes.”

“I can whip up something interesting,” he called back, a hint of mischief creeping into his voice. “But it might not be traditional breakfast food. I’ve been experimenting a little.”

“Oh boy, this should be good,” you said, following him into the kitchen, the earlier tension still lingering, but now more like a hopeful promise than a cloud of uncertainty.

Lando looked back over his shoulder with that charming grin that made your heart race. “Just trust me. You’ll love it.”

As he rummaged through the cabinets, you felt a flutter of excitement amid the remnants of your embarrassment. Maybe today wasn’t just about curing a hangover. Maybe it was the start of something new—something sweet and just a little bit wild.

The kitchen filled with the aroma of sizzling ingredients, laughter, and casual banter, the gravitational pull of your connection drawing you closer.

And for the first time that morning, as the sunlight spilled in and the soft music played, you felt truly, undeniably alive. . . .

The sun hung high in the sky, casting a golden hue over the McLaren paddock as the roar of engines filled the air. You had arrived earlier than expected, feeling a mix of excitement and apprehension.

Lando had invited you specifically to watch him race, and you had decided to bring Layla with you, thinking it might make the day more enjoyable.

But now, as you watched the interactions unfold around you, you began to regret that decision.

“Look at them,” Layla said, nudging your arm and pointing toward the racing cars as they zipped around the track. “Isn’t it incredible? I still can’t believe we’re here!”

“Yeah,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper as you tried to suppress the tension knotting up your stomach.

Lando was on the other side of the paddock, surrounded by his team, engrossed in the pre-race hustle. He looked effortlessly cool in his race suit, flashing that signature smile that made your heart skip, and exchanging laughter with his crew.

You could see the admiration in Layla’s eyes, the way her gaze followed him, almost too fondly.

“Do you think he’ll win today?” Layla asked, her voice bright with enthusiasm. “I mean, he’s been so on form lately. This might be his season!”

“Yeah, I hope so,” you managed, but your heart sank a little at the way she spoke about him, as if Lando was already hers, as if you didn’t even exist in the context of their perfect relationship.

As the anticipation built, Lando finished up with his team and made his way over to you both. With a warm grin, he wrapped you in a tight hug, his comforting scent of fresh cedar and sunlight enveloping you.

“Hey, you made it!” he exclaimed, pulling back to look into your eyes. He waved cheerfully at Layla, who returned the gesture with a beaming smile.

With a playful tap on my shoulder, he kept his attention locked on you. “I bought your favorite snacks in case you get hungry. Just ask anyone in hospitality and they'll give them to you.”

“Oh, Lando, you didn’t have to,” you said, touched by his thoughtfulness.

“I knew you didn’t eat much,” he replied, with a hint of teasing in his tone. “Gotta keep you energized, right? What would the fans say if they saw you fainting in the stands?”

You chuckled, the lightheartedness of his comment managing to ease some of the tension in your chest. “I appreciate it, really. Thanks, Lando.”

“Of course!” He flashed that dazzling smile again, and your heart skipped yet again, wishing it wouldn’t betray you so. “Are you excited for the race?”

“Absolutely,” You said with a grin. “I can’t wait to see you speed past everyone. You’re going to crush it!”

Lando’s cheeks flushed slightly at the compliment. “I’ll do my best. And if all goes to plan, maybe we can celebrate afterward?”

“Definitely!” you replied a little too quickly. “That would be amazing!”

As Lando left to get ready for the race and you walked to the garage, Layla nudged you playfully. “Haven't you seen the way he looks at you?” she said, a teasing smirk on her face.

“How do he… look at me?” you asked, a hint of confusion in your voice.

“Like he's helplessly falling in love,” Layla teased, her tone light but with a touch of sincerity.

Your cheeks heated. “Oh, come on. He’s just friendly. You know how he is.”

“Friendly? Girl, he’s practically glowing when he sees you! It’s more than friendly.”

You didn't reply but her words were replayed in your head for most of the day. . . .

The roar of the engines and the excitement of the crowd filled the air as you settled into your seat, your heart racing along with the cars on the track.

You had been eagerly watching Lando drive with impressive precision, your admiration mixed with nerves as he expertly navigated the twists and turns of the circuit.

But as the laps dwindled down, your stomach began to rumble louder than the cars. You leaned over to Layla, who was just as engrossed in the race aside from the occasional glance in your direction.

“I'm going to grab some snacks Lando got for me. Want anything?” you asked, trying to mask your growing hunger with a light-hearted tone.

“No, I’m good! Can’t believe you have personal snacks from the Lando,” Layla teased, a smirk playing at the corners of her mouth.

With a playful roll of your eyes, you made your way to the hospitality room, the bright lights and lavish decor a stark contrast to the rawness of the track.

You felt a rush of nostalgia thinking about all the times Lando had surprised you with silly little gestures, like snacking during breaks or rescuing you from long queues at events.

As you entered, the atmosphere abruptly shifted. A tall, undeniably handsome man leaned casually against the bar, a cocky smile on his face that could light up the room.

He had perfectly styled hair and a confidence that was palpable. You instinctively felt your pulse quicken, but not in the way you were used to with Lando.

“Hey there,” he drawled, his voice smooth like velvet as he turned to face you. “What’s a gorgeous girl like you doing all alone?”

You blinked, taken aback. It was the first time someone had openly flirted with you in public, and the realization made your cheeks flush.

“Um, just grabbing some snacks,” you stammered, glancing back toward the snack table. “Not much to see here.”

He moved closer, leaning forward on the bar, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Well, I’d hardly call you ‘not much to see.’ You definitely stand out from the crowd. What’s your name?”

“Uh, it’s…” you hesitated, almost forgetting your own name for a moment. “It’s Y/N. And you are…?”

“Ethan,” he replied, extending a hand with an air of confidence. You hesitated but eventually shook his hand. “So Y/N, do you come to the races often?”

“More often than you’d think,” you answered, forcing a smile.

Your mind kept drifting back to Lando, his curly hair bouncing with every turn, his infectious laugh, his enthusiastic spirit. You couldn't help but mentally compare every detail of Ethan to Lando, a habit you couldn’t shake off.

“What do you think of the race so far?” Ethan asked, diverting your thoughts back to the present.

“Oh, it’s exhilarating! Lando’s doing really well,” you replied, your voice faltering slightly as you mentioned his name. “He’s a great driver.”

Ethan raised an eyebrow. “Lando? The Lando?”

“Yeah, we’ve known each other for a bit. He’s… well, great,” you added sheepishly, not wanting to divulge too much about your friendship.

“Sounds like you’re a bit smitten,” Ethan teased, his eyes sparkling with playful banter.

You cut him a look, a blush creeping up your neck. “No! It’s not like that. We’re just friends!” The resolve in your voice felt weak against the wistfulness laced in your words.

Would Ethan ever understand the depth of what Lando meant to you?

The race continued, and Ethan shifted his attention from the track to you. “While I might not have curly hair or that… infectious laugh, I can still try to impress you,” he said with a smirk.

You couldn’t help but laugh softly. “I can’t deny you’re charming, Ethan. But the thing about Lando—”

“Is that he’s Lando,” Ethan interrupted, his voice low as though the name itself held some power. “I get it. You’ve got this history that I can’t compete with.”

He looked down, running a hand through his hair. The gesture seemed so reminiscent of Lando, yet distinctly different.

You couldn’t shake off how much every flick of Ethan’s hair and every smile he flashed felt in stark contrast to Lando’s bouncy curls and radiant grin. He smiled, sure, but it felt like a shadow of something brighter.

Just then, a staff member waved at Ethan from the other side of the grandstand, beckoning him over for photographs. “I’ll be right back!” he said, throwing you one last flirtatious grin before he slipped away.

You decided to take the chance to get back to your seat, curious as to why the cheers around the paddock were getting louder.

“Did you get your snacks?” Layla asked, her eyes still glued to the screen where the race was unfolding.

“Yeah,” you replied absentmindedly, still feeling the flutter of excitement from Ethan's attention. As you focused on the race, your thoughts danced back to him intermittently.

The atmosphere was electric; Lando was still in the lead for qualifying, much to the delight of the crowd, and your heart raced not just from the race—but from the momentary thrill of flirtation.

“Come on, come on, Lando!” Layla shouted, her enthusiasm infectious. You mirrored her excitement, your eyes following the sleek McLaren as it whizzed around the track.

When Lando crossed the finish line, securing pole position, the roar from the team was deafening. Everyone in McLaren was ecstatic, their cheers echoing the adrenaline that surged through the air.

"Yes, Lando," you said, smiling as the cameras captured the jubilant scene.

With Lando’s triumph, you watched as the team swarmed to congratulate him. You couldn't help but chuckle at his signature grin, the way he seemed to glow with the thrill of victory.

But as you looked closer, you realized that despite the chaos around him, Lando’s gaze was searching the crowd.

“Do you think he’ll spot us?” Layla asked, her eyes narrowing, trying to catch a glimpse through the throng of people.

“I doubt it. I mean, look at him! He’s the star of the show right now,” you replied, attempting to downplay the hope that fluttered in your stomach.

Still, your thoughts were interrupted as Layla suddenly grabbed your hand, pulling you through the crowd.

“C'mon! We need to get a closer look!” she shouted over the noise. Your heart raced for a different reason now, excitement growing as you maneuvered through the ocean of fans, team members, and media.

You just managed to catch a glimpse of Lando standing on his car, fist raised triumphantly in the air. “Look at him! He’s on top of the world!” you exclaimed, your voice barely audible over the cheers.

“I know! He’s incredible!” Layla responded, beaming at Lando’s joyous display.

Amidst the clamor and celebrations, you decided to yell out, “Lando, over here!” hoping he might hear you.

To your surprise, he turned in your direction, a radiant smile breaking across his face. He scanned the crowd, and for a heartbeat, your eyes locked. His smile grew broader, and you felt warmth flood your cheeks.

Then, without a thought for the crowd around you, you made your way over to him. You squeezed through a chaotic throng of jubilant fans, the buzz of celebration swirling around you, until you reached the area near the barriers.

There he was, laughing and exchanging high-fives with the team. You couldn't help but grin as you approached.

“Lando!” you shouted over the noise, arms open wide.

He spotted you immediately, and a look of pure joy washed over his face. With almost immediate instinct, he lunged toward you, wrapping his arms around you in a tight embrace.

The strength of his excitement was palpable, and you squeezed him back, your heart racing.

He chuckled as he lifted you slightly off the ground. “I did it! I can't believe it!” he cried, setting you back down gently. “Did you see that last lap?”

“Are you kidding? It was amazing! You were so fast!” you exclaimed, your voice rising above the cacophony.

As he pulled back, he looked down at you with his bright eyes sparkling in the fading light. “I couldn’t have done it without all your support. You were here every step of the way.”

“You’ve worked so hard, Lando. You deserve this,” you said, your gaze drifting for a moment as you felt the warmth of his presence envelop you.

But then, staring at him with the backdrop of the ecstatic crowd, your heart felt odd. Being so close to him, you suddenly found yourself stammering. “I—uh, I mean… you really did great.”

Lando tilted his head slightly, amusement dancing in his eyes. “You alright?” He took a small step closer, his arm still around your waist, making you acutely aware of the physical closeness between you, which felt both comfortable and electric.

“Uh, yeah, totally fine,” you replied quickly, but your voice was barely above a whisper. You caught a brief glimpse of Lando's gaze flitting to your lips, and it sent a jolt of connection rushing through you.

“I just… I mean…” You struggled to finish your thought, the reality of your best friend stepping into the limelight making you feel both thrilled and ridiculously nervous.

“Just what?” he teased gently, his smile unwavering but those eyes—oh, those eyes were searching, digging deeper.

“Just… I didn’t think you’d get pole position! I mean, I thought maybe, like, third or fourth?” You laughed nervously, but his gaze didn’t waver.

“Hey, you should always believe in me!” Lando said, but there was a soft intensity behind his words that made your heart race all the more. “If I can get here today, then you have to promise you’ll always believe in me, no matter what.”

You paused, looking earnestly into his bright eyes, biting your lip. “I promise. But you’ve gotta promise me too; no matter how famous you get or how many trophies you win, you won’t forget about me, okay?”

“Never,” he said softly, but the way he said it sent a shiver down your spine. He lowered his voice, his teasing demeanor fading slightly.

“You’ve been my constant through all of this, and I wouldn’t trade it for anything.”

Lando’s words lingered palpably in the air between you. You felt like the entire world had faded away, the crowd’s roars dimming into background noise. “I just… I could never replace what we have.”

“Exactly,” he said, moving a fraction closer, eliciting butterflies to flutter chaotic within your stomach. “Remember that time you thought I’d mess up in Monaco, and then I didn’t? I was convinced I could do it because you believed in me.”

You laughed, flushing at the memory. “Yeah, and you laughed at me for just being realistic.”

“Realistic is boring! You should know that by now. In racing, and in life, you gotta dream big,” he said, voice lightening as humor returned to the moment.

Just as you were about to respond, Zac approached. “Hey! Lando! Congrats, mate!”

He clapped Lando on the back, breaking the synergy you had created. “That was an incredible race! You crushed it!”

Lando’s hand left your waist as he turned to engage with Zac, his infectious excitement pulling him into the conversation. “Thanks, man! I can’t believe it! I was so nervous the entire time!”

You stepped back slightly, allowing the two of them to revel in the adrenaline of the moment. Lando beamed, his eyes sparkling as he spoke animatedly with Zac about the race strategy.

You watched as he made his way to get weighed and interviewed, your heart fluttering with a mix of pride and something else you weren’t quite ready to admit.

“Really, though, I don’t understand why you’re still on the fence about it,” Layla said, stepping beside you as you discreetly observed Lando.

Her voice was laced with curiosity as she nudged your shoulder. “He’s been so into you these past few weeks. Did you see how he looked at you when he saw you?”

You sighed, leaning back against the wall, your gaze still fixed on Lando. “Yeah, well, I saw that. But just because he looks at me a certain way doesn’t mean he likes me. He’s excited about the race, Layla. I’m just… there.”

“You’re not just ‘there.’ You’re practically glowing in his vicinity. It’s like he only sees you when he talks!” Layla insisted, her tone shifting to teasing. “You could light up an entire stadium with the way he smiles at you.”

“Okay, maybe he enjoys spending time with me,” you conceded, your cheeks warming at the thought. “But that doesn't exactly scream ‘I like you.’”

“Maybe not,” she replied, tilting her head as she watched Lando waving at fans and signing autographs, “but you’ve got to admit, there’s something more. I mean, look at him! The energy is off the charts!”

You rolled your eyes, trying to keep the conversation light. “You know how he is. He’s a charismatic guy. He’s like that with everyone.”

“Maybe. But wouldn’t it be amazing if he was like that with just you?” Layla’s voice softened, and she nudged you again. “Take the leap! Ask him how he feels—it doesn’t have to be a grand declaration.”

The sun was beginning to set over the racing circuit, casting hues of orange and pink across the sky as Lando settled himself into a high-backed chair in the paddock lounge.

It had been a day filled with adrenaline, the thrill of achieving pole position lighting up his thoughts.

The victory celebrations had been electrifying, but they were quickly overshadowed by a single purpose that surged through him like fuel to an engine—he wanted to see you again.

After the debrief, he had scanned the crowd, searching for you, his excitement building with each passing second. He had been talking about trying a new restaurant in town, and he couldn’t wait to explore it with you.

But the moment he stepped into the bustling lounge, he spotted you, and his heart sank just a little.

You were laughing.

Not just a polite chuckle, but a full-bodied laugh that lit up your face. You were engaged in conversation with Ethan Smith, the American actor who had been brought in as a special guest to support the race.

Lando could see the chemistry between you two—it was glaringly evident in the way Ethan leaned in slightly, his playful jokes coaxing out laughter and smiles that made your eyes sparkle.

“Hey, you look like you’re going to kill Ethan,” Layla, your best friend, teased as she sidled up to Lando, noticing the tense atmosphere that had suddenly enveloped him.

“Who?” Lando asked, tearing his gaze from you for just a moment.

“Ethan Smith? One of the most famous actors in the US? You don’t know him?” Layla's voice was filled with disbelief.

“Nope, and I don’t like him either,” Lando grumbled, eyes narrowing as he watched Ethan wink at you.

You giggled, and Lando felt a twinge of jealousy in his chest. He stood up properly, unable to resist the pull any longer.

As he stormed over, Layla rolled her eyes, giggling softly in amusement. “Good luck, hero.”

Lando approached, trying to keep his expression neutral even while he could feel a competitive spark igniting within him.

“Hey, sorry to interrupt,” he said, forcing a smile as he sidled up next to you, “but I thought we were going to check out that new place together.”

You turned to him, your smile blossoming even wider. “Lando! You were amazing out there today! I still can’t believe you got pole position!”

“Thanks! It was a good day, but I’ve got even better plans,” he added, shooting Ethan a pointed look. “I’m taking you out for dinner remember.”

Ethan raised an eyebrow, clearly unbothered and amused by Lando's sudden intrusion. “Oh, is that so? Looks like you’ve got some competition, Norris.”

Lando’s jaw twitched slightly. “I don’t see any competition, honestly. You’re just a—”

“Just a what?” Ethan interrupted with a smirk, leaning back casually. “Just a huge star who happens to be having a lovely conversation with someone he finds incredibly charming?”

You giggled again, a sound that made Lando’s irritation simmer down just a fraction. “You guys, come on. I’m just trying to enjoy the evening here.”

“Exactly,” said Ethan, flashing you a disarming smile. “And you deserve it! Besides, I was just giving her some advice on how to handle the media.”

“Media?” Lando questioned, crossing his arms. “I didn’t realize you were running a media workshop.”

Ethan shrugged, unbothered. “Hey, just sharing the wisdom I’ve gained. It can be tough, huh? Like staying out of the limelight while everyone’s watching you, waiting for you to slip up.” He shot a harmless smile, but Lando felt the jabs in his stomach.

You frowned, sensing the tension. “You guys, let’s not make this into a competition. Lando, you were the one who wanted to go out tonight.”

Lando looked at you, and then back at Ethan. “Right,” he said, softening his tone as he fixed his eyes solely on you. “I just wanted to celebrate with you a little, that’s all.”

Ethan grinned, raising his hands in surrender. “Alright, alright! Looks like you’ve claimed your prize, my friend. I was just enjoying the company. I’ll step back.”

Lando glanced at Ethan with a nod, appreciating the concession, but still feeling a little victorious as he turned back to you. “So, are you ready to go eat? That new place is supposed to be amazing.”

You looked back to Ethan, and then nodded, a sweet smile curling on your lips. “Yeah, I’m ready. Sorry for taking up your time, Ethan.”

Ethan waved it off with a playful wink. “No problem! Have fun out there, you two. Just remember, she was laughing with me first!”

As you and Lando began to walk away, he turned back to you with a raised eyebrow. “You know, just for the record, I think he was flirting with you.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Oh please, he’s just a friendly guy! Besides, I already have someone I’m interested in.”

“Good,” Lando muttered, feeling a rush of relief and warmth flooding his chest. “Just making sure.”

He smiled down at you, his heart feeling a little lighter now. ���Let’s go enjoy our dinner and make some headlines of our own, huh?”

“Sounds perfect,” you said, linking your arm through his as you both made your way out, leaving the tension behind you.

Lando couldn’t help but smile at the thought of spending the evening with you, feeling that maybe the only competition that truly mattered was the one he could embrace.

The evening air was cooler than expected, igniting a small thrill of anticipation as you stepped out of the car. You looked up at the restaurant’s glowing sign, your heart fluttering a little.

This place was newly opened, a fusion of modern and vintage charm, and you were eager to see if it lived up to its reputation.

As you adjusted your jacket, you glanced at Lando, who was standing beside you with an easy grin, his eyes sparkling like the city lights around you. Ever since he came into your life, each moment felt a little more vibrant, a little more alive.

“Have you seen the menu?” you asked, looking up at him, excitement bubbling in your voice.

He nodded, brushing a lock of hair from his forehead. “I did, and I can tell you right now, I’m going for that pumpkin risotto. It sounds incredible.”

You laughed. “Pumpkin risotto? It seems a bit heavy for someone who just came off a race, doesn’t it?”

“Hey, I need my carbs!” he retorted playfully, nudging your shoulder with his. “Especially after that race last week. I burned more calories than I could count, you know.”

“Fine, but I’m holding you to it. If you fall asleep in the middle of dinner, we might have a problem,” you teased back, stepping inside the restaurant.

The atmosphere enveloped you like a warm embrace—soft lighting, a hint of herbs wafting from the kitchen, and laughter echoing from nearby tables. You felt a buzz of excitement in your veins as you and Lando were led to a cozy corner table.

“So, what are you going to have?” he asked, picking up the menu and scanning it with genuine interest.

You shrugged, pretending to gauge the choices with utmost seriousness. “I think I’ll try the seafood linguine. It’s been ages since I’ve had good pasta.”

Lando’s expression softened, and he leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand. “You know, I love when you get excited about food. It’s one of those little things that makes you… well, you.”

A warm blush crept onto your cheeks. “I didn’t realize you were so observant, Mr. Norris.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “I notice the important things. Like how you scrunch your nose when you’re thinking, or how your eyes light up when you talk about your favorite books.”

“Okay, now you’re just getting mushy.” Your voice barely hid your embarrassment, but the fluttering in your chest was unmistakable.

You loved how easily he could make you smile.

Their server arrived, and you both ordered. As you waited, the conversation flowed easily, moving from playful banter about Lando’s racing experiences to sharing your dream travel destinations.

“I really want to visit Japan,” you said, your eyes dancing with the thought. “The culture, the food, the cherry blossoms… it seems magical.”

Lando leaned back, an amused smile plastered on his face. “You’re a romantic at heart, aren’t you?”

“Maybe,” you admitted, biting your lip. “What about you? Where would you go if you had the chance?”

He paused, his expression thoughtful. “Probably somewhere quiet. Racing is intense, so I think I’d like a peaceful beach. Just to sit, reflect, and maybe learn to surf.”

“Surfing, huh?” You quirked an eyebrow. “You? I can already picture you wiping out spectacularly.”

“Oh, I’d definitely faceplant! But I’d get back up,” he said, his laughter infectious. “Just like on the track. That’s what makes it all fun, right?”

Before you could respond, your food arrived, and the divine aroma filled the air. You both dove into the dishes eagerly, enjoying the burst of flavors that danced on your tongues.

“This is amazing!” you exclaimed, savoring a mouthful of your linguine. “You have to try this.”

Lando took a bite of your pasta and nodded approvingly. “Wow, that’s really good! But I’ll stick to my risotto for now.”

As dinner continued, the conversation turned more personal. Lando shared stories of his childhood, his dreams, and the pressures of being in the limelight, while you opened up about your own aspirations and the challenges you faced.

“Sometimes, it’s overwhelming,” he confessed, a hint of vulnerability lacing his words. “I mean, I love racing, but it can feel like everyone’s expectations are just weighing down on you.”

You reached across the table, placing your hand on his. “But you’re doing something incredible, Lando. You’re following your passion and inspiring people along the way. Just don’t lose sight of what matters.”

His gaze locked onto yours, lips curving into a smile that reached his eyes. “You always know what to say to make me feel better. I’m lucky to have you around.”

In that moment, you understood something deeper was blossoming between you—a connection that transcended the thrill of racing. It was a shared dream, a mutual understanding, and an undeniable chemistry that lit up the evening.

As the night wore on and the plates were cleared, you felt a mix of contentment and longing. The restaurant buzzed with laughter and conversations, but in your little corner, it was just you and Lando, caught in your own world.

“Next time, we should pick somewhere even more adventurous,” he suggested, a playful gleam in his eyes.

You leaned back, thinking of the possibilities. “That sounds perfect. Let’s make it a tradition.”

Lando grinned, and in that moment, you knew this was just the beginning of something beautiful. You just hope that your feelings won't get in the way. . . .

Layla’s coughs echoed through the empty hall as she wrapped herself tighter in a soft blanket on the couch, trying to drown out the sound of the outside world.

It felt bitterly unfair that her body had rebelled against her just when she’d been looking forward to watching the race with you.

“Hey, Layla,” you called from the kitchen, where you were prepping a few snacks. “I’m heading out now. Are you sure you don’t want to come?”

She turned her head slightly, her hair tousled and her cheeks flushed. “No, really, you should go. I’d just be a downer. Besides, I’d hate to get Lando sick. He’s got that race this weekend!”

“True, but…” you hesitated, feeling the weight of the unspoken words. “I mean, it would have been nice if we could all hang out together. I was kind of hoping you'd be there.”

Layla's smile was faint but brightened her pallid complexion. “I think you’re hoping for more than just ‘hanging out.’ You like him, don’t you?”

You sighed. “Maybe? I mean, after last night’s dinner… I just can’t tell if it was all in my head.”

A soft laugh escaped her lips, quickly followed by a cough. “You actually thought he was, what? Just being polite? You guys were practically flirting all night.”

“Flirting? Really?” You raised an eyebrow in disbelief. “I thought he was just being friendly. Charming, even. He’s always like that.”

“Yeah, but that look he gave you? Come on! It was like, 'how do I impress you?’ and 'you’re amazing’ wrapped in one.” She coughed again, and you felt guilt worming its way into your chest.

“Maybe he was just being a nice guy. Or he was bored...” you trailed off, unsure.

“Or maybe he’s into you, and you just don’t want to see it,” she countered, her voice softening. “You should go talk to him. Tonight could be your chance!”

You ran a hand through your hair, pondering Layla's words. What if? What if that spark you felt between you was mutual?

You took a deep breath as you nodded. “Okay. I’m going. Just to check in on him.”

“Good! Now go knock his socks off!” Layla replied, her enthusiasm cutting through her congestion. As you waved goodbye, a quiet mix of excitement and apprehension simmered in your stomach.

You arrived at the paddock, the unmistakable hum of excitement buzzing in the air. The energy of fans waving flags and donning their favorite team colors could be felt all around; it was palpable and infectious.

You took a moment to soak it all in, engaging with the fans milling about, sharing smiles and snapshots that captured the thrill of race day.

But amidst the joviality, you couldn't shake off the knot in your stomach. Lando had been acting differently lately, receiving an outpouring of negative comments and disproportionate criticism on social media.

It made your heart ache to see someone so talented being torn down and misunderstood, especially when he had always been so kind and considerate.

Today was supposed to be about racing, but you had a growing worry that Lando might not be able to shake off the weight that was pressing down on him.

Once you greeted the last group of fans, you made your way through the paddock with purpose. The noise faded slightly as you approached Lando's garage—his sanctuary, where he would armor up for the battles on the track.

The energy there was different; it was practically electric, the team buzzing around, making final adjustments to the car and going over the last-minute strategies.

Still, your focus was solely on Lando.

You searched for him in every nook and cranny, peeking into the bustling pit area and checking around the hospitality suites. But a feeling of dread began to take root when you couldn’t find him.

“Maybe he’s in his driver’s room,” you murmured to yourself, trying to push down the worry that lingered like a shadow.

At the door, you hesitated, your heart racing. You knocked once, then twice, listening for the sound of his voice.

When no response came, you slowly turned the handle and pushed the door open, half-expecting him to be absorbed in some last-minute race preparation. Instead, the scene that greeted you was far from it.

Lando was curled up on the small, worn sofa, hands wrapped around his knees. He jumped slightly at the sight of you, his eyes wide, a mix of surprise and vulnerability.

“Oh Y/N, I didn’t hear you come in,” he said, forcing on a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

You frowned at the sight of him, the dim light casting shadows across his face, revealing red-rimmed eyes. Your heart sank. “Lando… what’s wrong?”

You lowered yourself onto the sofa next to him, the familiar scent of his cologne wrapping around you like a comforting embrace, but it did little to ease your concern.

“Nothing, I’m fine,” he replied too quickly, the practiced lightness in his voice clashing with the heaviness in the room.

You could see the slight tremor in his hands, and your worry deepened. You reached out, tentatively placing a hand on his knee.

“You’re not fine,” you said softly, searching his face for the usual spark you loved. “I can see it. Talk to me?”

He looked away, glancing out the window at the racetrack where the cars were roaring around the circuit.

You followed his gaze but quickly turned back to him, determined to break through the wall he had put up. “Does it have to do with the race? Is it the pressure?”

Lando shook his head, something between sad and grateful passing over his features. “It’s not that. Just… a lot on my mind, you know?” His words were heavy, like anchors sinking in deep water.

“That’s okay,” you said, shifting closer to him. “I’m here. You don’t have to go through it alone.”

He chuckled softly, though there was no humor behind it. “You’re always here, Y/N. That’s what I like about you. You make it easier.”

“Then let me help you,” you insisted gently, nudging him with your elbow while you tried to coax out a more genuine response.

“Can I get a hug?” you asked, knowing that physical closeness might be the best way to pull Lando out of the shell he’d crawled into.

He hesitated, eyes darting around the room like a deer caught in headlights. Then, hesitantly, he leaned into you, wrapping his arms around your shoulders.

The warmth of his body was comforting, but as he buried his face against the curve of your neck, you felt the tell-tale signs of him holding back. You hugged him tighter, hoping he could feel the strength of your support.

“Let it out,” you whispered, holding him as he exhaled deeply, searching for words that seemed stuck in his throat. “Please.”

You rubbed his back in soothing circles, the silent rhythm cocooning you both in a bubble of softness. You didn't care if you were basically sitting on his lap; all you cared about was Lando.

“It's just... a lot,” he murmured finally, his voice muffled against you. “The media, the fans—they're relentless. I don’t think I can do it today.”

“Shhh…” you soothed, leaning back slightly to bring his gaze toward you. His big, dark eyes looked lost, a storm brewing behind them. “You’re stronger than they think. You love racing, remember? You belong out there.”

He looked away, swallowing hard. You could see the emotions swirling within him, battling between fear and desire, doubt and determination. “But what if I mess up again? What if…”

“Lando,” you interrupted gently. “What if you do great? You can’t let fear write your story for you. You have to give yourself a chance.”

His fingers found your waist as he held you closer, the intensity in his grip conveying everything words could not. “I just don’t want to let anyone down,” he confessed finally, his breath warm against your ear.

“You won’t,” you assured him, your heart racing with the intimacy of the moment. “Not with me by your side. You have me, Lando; I believe in you.”

With every squeezed breath, the hug felt too tight, arms closing around you, squeezing you, pressing together, inch by inch. You could feel his hesitance melting into something else, something deeper, something that felt like your very own electricity.

Lando was the unpredictable force that set your heart aflame. Those arms wrapped tightly around you felt intoxicating, like a drug that sent your pulse racing when the rest of the world faded away.

His phone buzzed, jolting you both back to the reality of the upcoming race.

“It’s Oscar,” he muttered, annoyance tugging at his features. “I don’t want to go; I can’t face the pit or the cameras.”

You lifted your chin, meeting his gaze fully. “Well, I can’t do this for you, but I can be right there with you. You need to let them see how you feel. It’s okay to show vulnerability, Lando.”

He took a deep breath, and you could see the gears in his mind turning. “What if it’s not enough?” he muttered, but the fire in his voice was finally wavering.

“Enough for who?” you pressed. “You don’t have to perform for them. Just do your race, and I’ll be right there cheering for you.”

“Really?” He looked at you, the hope flickering in his gaze almost enough to make you lean in and kiss him.

“Absolutely. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” You grinned, feeling the air shift between you, filled with the promise of something more.

Suddenly, Oscar’s voice boomed from the other side of the door, urgent and loud. “Lando, it’s time for the race!”

Lando groaned, clearly annoyed at being forced back into reality. “I guess I can’t hide in here forever, huh?”

“Nope. Now come on, let’s get you out there and show them what you’re made of.” You smiled, standing abruptly and holding out your hand to him.

He hesitated for a heartbeat before taking it, and you felt that warm pull between you. The brief moment of intimacy melded into something more solid as he clasped your fingers. He rose to his feet, tilting his head slightly to find your gaze once again.

“Thanks,” he said softly, his voice clear and stronger now. “For everything. I don’t know what I would do without you.”

“Probably get a lot more nervous,” you teased lightly, nudging him playfully. “But seriously, let’s go. You’ve got a race to win.”

As Lando Norris crossed the finish line for the fourth time that season, the entire track erupted in a symphony of cheers and celebrations.

You could barely contain your excitement, adrenaline surging through you as you pulled off your headphones, the sounds of the race still echoing in your mind.

All that mattered was Lando—your brilliant, talented Lando.

You joined the staff, a vibrant mix of engineers, mechanics, and strategists, who were all equally charged up. The atmosphere was electric, the air thick with the scent of burnt rubber and victory champagne.

You barely noticed the chaos unfolding around you as everyone rallied around the pit area. The crew, those unwavering supporters who had helped you get closer to Lando before, ushered you closer, their enthusiasm infectious.

“Come on! Right this way!” one of the crew members shouted over the noise, grabbing your hand and leading you through the throng.

You felt your heart race as the crowd’s energy swirled around you, anticipation making you giddy.

“Lando! Lando! Over here!” you shouted, waving your arms above your head like a lunatic.

A couple of crew members pointed in your direction, assisting the chaotic dance of the crowd.

And then it happened. His eyes met yours—green and bright like emeralds sparkling in sunlight. Time seemed to slow as he brightened at the sight, a genuine smile breaking across his face.

Without hesitation, he tore away from the crowd, sprinting toward you. The world blurred around you, the cheers fading until nothing mattered but the two of you.

When he reached you, it was like everything else faded away. He enveloped you in the biggest hug, his head tucked tightly against your neck.

Warmth washed over you, and you couldn’t help but laugh with pure joy.

“You did it! I knew you could!” you shouted, the excitement lacing your words as your arms wrapped around his neck.

His grip tightened as he pulled back to look into your eyes, the sexual tension thick between you. Lando's gaze lingered on your lips momentarily, and something about the way he held his gaze left your heart racing.

“I couldn’t have done it without you cheering me on,” he confessed, his breath warm against your skin. “You’re my good luck charm.”

“I think it’s the other way around,” you teased playfully. “You’ve got the talent, but I like to think I add a bit of magic.”

Lando chuckled, a sound like music that echoed around you, making your heart flutter. “Well, keep that magic close then, okay?”

Before you could respond, he leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to your cheek, just a breath away from your lips. Your breath hitched as the world fell away again, your cheeks flushed with warmth and perhaps a bit more than embarrassment.

“I—I should let you go celebrate with everyone,” you said, almost feeling shy as you took a step back, the rest of the team rallying around him with congratulations.

“Hey,” he said softly, his gaze never wavering as he reached for your hand, holding it tightly. “You’re coming with me, right? We have to celebrate together after!”

You blinked, surprised. “Really? Don't you want to celebrate with only your team?”

“I want to celebrate with you too!” He smiled, an infectious grin that made your heart skip a beat. “We’ll carve out our own little celebration. Just us after.”

Your heart soared. You nodded eagerly. “Okay!”

After the podium celebrations ended, the crowd dispersed, and the atmosphere filled with the crackling excitement of victory turned to an afterglow.

Lando Norris, with his signature grin and a trophy held high, had basked in the limelight, soaking up the roaring applause of the fans.

But that was only a moment for him; now, he was dragged away to the media center, leaving you standing at the edge of the pit lane, heart fluttering with the kiss he had planted on your cheek moments before.

You leaned against the pit wall, watching as he disappeared behind a barrage of cameras and reporters.

The warmth of his fleeting affection lingered on your skin, and a smile crept across your face despite the noise around you.

“Thinking about him, I see,” a voice interrupted your thoughts. You jumped slightly, caught off guard as you turned to see Ethan approaching.

He wore a knowing smirk, one that made your stomach twist of embarrassment.

“Oh, hi Ethan, what are you talking about?” You feigned nonchalance, crossing your arms.

“Lando, I’m talking about Lando,” Ethan replied, rolling his eyes dramatically. “Look, it’s clear you’ve got this enormous crush on him, but let’s not kid ourselves. He doesn’t like you like that. He’s just being friendly.”

Your heartbeat quickened for a different reason now—a mix of frustration and hurt. “What do you mean he doesn’t like me? He just won a race, and he kissed me, it was sweet.” You tried to sound more confident than you felt.

“Sweet?” Ethan scoffed. “That was just a celebratory peck. You know how he is with his fans. He flirts with everyone. It doesn’t mean he has a thing for you.”

You rolled your eyes, pushing back against his doubt. “But it felt different. The way he looked at me before he left… Ethan, we’ve talked, we’ve laughed.”

Ethan raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. “Look, you’re a great person, and I get that you want to believe he’s into you. But do you really think he’s capable of liking someone with all of this fame and pressure around him? He’s got a busy life, and girlfriends are just more trouble in that world.”

The frustration bubbled in your chest. “You sound like my mom,” you shot back, unable to hide the sharpness in your tone. “You don’t even know him like I do.”

“Fair enough,” Ethan said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “But you’ve got to admit, you’re setting yourself up for a huge disappointment here. Just... don’t get your hopes too high. I wouldn’t want to see you hurt.”

His exasperation was genuine, but it only deepened your resolve. “And I wouldn’t want to live my life scared to try because of what ‘might’ happen.”

Ethan sighed. “Okay, I’m not trying to ruin your fantasy. I just want you to be realistic.”

“Realistic or pessimistic?” you countered.

He laughed softly, the tension in the air easing just a bit. “Alright, let’s call it realistic, then.”

“Lando doesn’t like you that way,” Ethan had said, concern etched on his features.

Those words replayed in your head like a broken record, setting a tight knot in your stomach every time you thought of the charming driver.

Just as you attempted to shake off the lingering doubt, a staff member materialized out of thin air, his voice breaking through your thoughts. “Lando wants to see you now.”

“Thanks!” you called out, excusing yourself from Ethan’s company. 

You felt a mix of anticipation and anxiety as you navigated through the hubbub of the garage, pushing aside doubts that had lingered since your morning conversation with Ethan.

Finally standing before Lando’s driver’s room, you raised your hand and knocked gently. “Come in,” his voice called out, warm and inviting.

You opened the door to find Lando leaning against the wall, a genuine smile lighting his face, so different from the frown of earlier that day. “Hi, champ!” you greeted him, a spark of joy igniting within you.

“Hey!” he exclaimed, standing upright as he approached you. “I’m really glad you’re here.” His eyes sparkled with a mischievous glint, and you could feel an electric tension crackling in the air between you.

You both settled into a rhythm of lighthearted conversation, laughing and reminiscing about the week’s events, but underneath every playful jab and shared joke, there was an unspoken acknowledgment of the chemistry that simmered between you.

Lando’s gaze felt heavy on you, filled with unexpressed words that lingered just beyond reach.

The air crackles with an unspoken tension as you stare into Lando's eyes, a mix of confusion and yearning coursing through every nerve in your body.

You can feel the warmth of his presence enveloping you, a fire igniting in the pit of your stomach as you try to decipher the myriad emotions swirling between you.

“So,” Lando began, his voice almost a whisper, eyes glistening with something serious, “there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you.”

His voice quivers with uncertainty, the weight of his unexpressed feelings hanging heavily in the atmosphere, and it sends a shiver down your spine.

Your mind raced back to Ethan’s words: “Lando doesn’t like you, Y/N. He’s just playing around.” You shook your head slightly. You wouldn’t let yourself believe that.

You couldn’t allow the confusion between friendship and something more to blur in your mind; it was too painful.

He said, his tone firm yet tender. “I like you, Y/N.”

“You don’t, you can’t,” you protest meekly, recalling the stinging words Ethan had casually tossed your way, words that left a lingering ache in your chest.

The notion that Lando might not harbor genuine feelings for you feels like a betrayal, an unwelcome specter haunting the edges of this beautiful moment.

“Y/N—” His voice was earnest, but you shook your head, biting your lip to keep the tears at bay.

“Please don’t joke about that. If you don’t like me—if you’re just messing around—then don’t joke about it.” Each word felt like a dagger, piercing through the bubble of hope forming in your chest.

“Why do you think I’m saying this?” he asked, his voice low and laced with emotion. “Why would I bother if I didn’t mean it? This isn’t just some casual fling for me. I care about you, and it’s driving me insane keeping it all bottled up!”

You took a step back, your back hitting the closed door. “Lando, please, you can’t say that!” Tears began to stream down your cheeks unbidden.

“Why not?” he challenged softly, moving closer again, his gaze intense. “Why can’t I? Are you really going to deny what’s been between us? You feel it too right?”

The truth in his words shattered your defenses. “Lando, I—” Your voice broke, and the words tumbled out, heavier than you imagined.

“I’ve never been someone’s first choice before. It’s hard to believe that you actually want me.”

“Then believe me,” he urged, his hand gently cupping your cheek, wiping away a tear with his thumb.

Lando’s arms wrapped around you, pulling you close as he whispered, “You deserve to hear it, and I mean every word.”

You melted into him, your head resting against his chest while he held you tightly—firmly yet gently, a safe haven amidst your unraveling emotions.

He didn’t flinch as the tears soaked his shirt.

“I’m scared,” you admitted, sniffling against his shoulder. “I don’t want to lose this.”

“You won’t lose me. Not ever,” he promised, pulling back slightly so he could look into your eyes. “Just give us a chance. I won’t hurt you.”

After a long while, you managed to calm down, your heart still racing but your breaths a little steadier. Lando pulled back just enough to look you in the eyes; the concern etched on his face warmed you.

“Can I kiss you?” Lando asked, his voice laced with just a hint of uncertainty, as if he feared this moment would evaporate into thin air.

Time seemed to stand still as you considered his question. You could feel the heat radiating between you, a magnetic pull that drew you closer.

This was the moment you had both been dancing around, the very reason for the tension that crackled in the air.

You felt a flutter in your stomach at the question, your body reacting before your mind could catch up. “Yes,” you finally breathed out, the single word filled with yearning.

His eyes sparkled, and he leaned in slowly, giving you time to pull away if you wanted. But you didn’t; if anything, your heart raced as he brushed his lips against yours, soft and hesitant at first.

His lips met yours in a soft, tender kiss that spoke volumes of the feelings you both had kept hidden for too long. The world around you faded away, leaving just the two of you wrapped in a warm embrace, filled with the promise of love and acceptance.

As the kiss deepened, you felt an overwhelming sense of relief and joy. It was as if everything you had fought against—the doubt, the fear—melted away, replaced with the certainty of Lando’s affection.

You knew, right then and there, that you had finally found someone who would stay, who truly wanted you for who you were.

When the kiss finally broke, you rested your forehead against his, your hearts still racing from the intensity of it all. “I’m sorry I pushed you away,” you murmured.

“Don’t be,” he replied softly. “I’m just glad I finally got to you.”

And in that moment, surrounded by a haze of newfound love and vulnerability, you both knew that this was only the beginning of something beautiful.

Something that you both deserved. . . . .

[aliwritex]

Hello I just stumbled across your page a few days ago and fell in love with your writing and when I saw that you take f1 requests I screamed

You don’t have to but if you are free to can you do something cute and smutty

About

Lando Norris and fem s/o overstimming each other and neither one wants to back down till lando is like having dry orgasms 🤭 thank you if you can

Remember to take your time and drink water

This is really short but truly all i could get out for this, hope you enjoy ;) f1 masterlist

You had been ridding your boyfriend for the past hour, he had already filled you with cum before you flipped your bodies over and started the abuse to his spent cock. Since then, you had lost count of your orgasms and Lando was about to reach his third of the night. You were completely insatiable but had agreed to stop if he couldn’t do anymore, instead, you were met with

“No, baby, please don’t stop, love you on me, please.” those were the last full words that came out of his mouth, everything after that were just mumbles.

Given the green light you kept your hips going, moving back and forth against him. At this point you had your back turned to him for a while, after he said he wanted to watch your ass, so you were holding on tightly to his thighs, nails digging into his skin as you rode him through one more orgasm. The clenching of your pussy bringing him to cum inside you again, filling you up to the brim before you made a mess by turning to face him.

Your legs were all sticky from both your wetness and his releases, translucent white ropes of it connecting your middle to his as you pushed him back inside you.

“Need more, baby. Shit. Gonna use you, is that okay?”

Lando just nodded at your question, too used up to actually care what you did to him. You started bouncing on him again, collecting all of the strength left in your body to lift your hips and bring them back down on him. He was fighting to keep his eyes open just to see how beautifully your tits bounced in front of them.

But after a couple of minutes of your bouncing and just seconds away from your high you caught his own. You saw the way his face changed, eyebrows knitted together, eyes shut tight and a silent moan caught in his throat instead of going past his open lips. His hands squeezed tightly on your hips and his back arched off the bed. You felt his cock twitch inside you but not fill you up with cum before he pushed you off himself.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fucking shit, oh my god” the string of curses left his lips sinfully as you watched his cock, still twitching in his own hand. “Shit! What the fuck was that?” he groaned as you reached for his softening dick, he hissed at the contact but let you touch him regardless.

“Are you okay, love?” he nodded “Think you just came dry” he looked at you like you had said the most absurd thing in the world.

“oh, fuck. The things you do to me” he sighed, pulling you to kiss him.

[redocity]

Can I get a request with Buck and a reader with a mischievous cat who somehow keeps breaking into Bucks place so he has to keep calling the number on its tag and you (his neighbor) has to keep coming round to take the cat back? And both of you are crushing on each other hard and one day you tie a note to your cats collar asking him on a date?

FURRY FRIEND INTRUDER — E.BUCKLEY

your cat has an affinity for crashing bucks apartment. he doesn’t mind, it means he gets to speak to you again.

evan buckley x gn!reader | 1.0k | fluff | masterlist.

a/n — this is the cutest thing ever, thanks for the request, lovely 🫶

Buck had gotten used to many things in his life—chaos, fires, rescues—but the one thing he hadn’t expected to get used to was the soft sound of paws padding across his floor at the crack of dawn. Again.

He blinked awake, groggy, and looked over at the foot of his bed where the intruder sat; Your cat, Winston. The black and white ball of trouble was staring at him with wide, unblinking eyes, tail flicking back and forth. This was the third time this week.

With a groan, Buck sat up and rubbed his face. “Winston, how do you keep getting in here?” he asked, but the cat only blinked lazily and jumped down, padding toward the kitchen as if he owned the place.

Buck sighed and grabbed his phone. He’d memorized your number by now, not that he’d ever admit it.

Every time Winston showed up, Buck found himself torn between frustration and the absurd excitement of getting to see you again.

It wasn’t the worst thing in the world—having an excuse to call you—but he wondered if you’d think he was incompetent at keeping his windows shut.

He shot off a quick text.

Winston's here again, I think he’s plotting something, should I be worried?

It only took a minute for your reply to pop up.

Haha, he’s got a taste for adventure

I’ll come get him, you’re sure you’re not letting him in in your sleep?

Buck chuckled, shaking his head. There was something easy about texting you. He couldn’t help the way his heart sped up at the idea of seeing you, even if it was just because of your sneaky cat.

Ten minutes later, there was a soft knock at his door. Buck opened it, finding you standing there with an amused smile and a slight flush on your cheeks. You had that look again—the one that made Buck feel like he could melt right there on the spot.

“Sorry about Winston,” you said, stepping inside. “He only ever seems to do this with you. Maybe he likes your vibe?”

Buck laughed, crossing his arms as he leaned against the doorframe. “Well, if Winston’s got good taste, I can’t argue with that.”

You laughed softly, and Buck couldn’t help but grin wider. God, you were gorgeous.

He tried to play it cool, but the truth was, he was crushing on you, hard. It didn’t help that every time you came by to pick up your cat, you were always so sweet and flustered about it, and he couldn’t stop imagining what it’d be like to spend more time with you.

Outside of these bizarre cat-retrieval encounters, of course.

Buck’s heart did a funny little flip as Winston wandered over, rubbing against your leg as if he wasn’t causing all this trouble on purpose.

“Do you want some coffee before you take him back?” Buck asked, half-hoping you’d say yes.

You smiled, and for a second, he thought you might stay, but you gave a soft laugh. “Thanks, but I’ve gotta dash to work. Maybe next time?”

“Next time,” Buck repeated, feeling oddly hopeful. “I’ll hold you to that.”

You grinned and scooped up Winston, waving as you left, leaving Buck with an odd sense of longing that lingered long after you were gone.

—

It happened again the next day. And the day after that. It was almost like clockwork: Winston showing up in Buck’s apartment, and you coming to fetch him. The more it happened, the more Buck found himself looking forward to your visits, no matter how brief.

But today, something different happened.

Buck had just gotten back from a long shift when he heard the familiar sound of Winston’s paws padding across his kitchen counter, the familiar ball of fluff yawning in what almost felt like a joke on his own tiredness. He let out a small laugh, already reaching for his phone.

As Buck scratched Winston’s chin, he noticed a small piece of paper tied around his collar. Frowning, he untied it and unfolded the note.

So, since Winston keeps bringing us together, how about we make it official? Would you like to have dinner with me?

Buck stared at the note for a moment, his mind racing. Did this mean what he thought it meant? A wide grin spread across his face as he grabbed his phone, his fingers quickly typing out a message.

I think Winston’s trying to tell me something. I’d love to go to dinner with you, you free Friday night? 6?

He didn’t have to wait long for a reply.

Friday sounds perfect! I’ll keep Winston out of your hair until then

Buck smiles down at his phone screen. Then another message pops up.

Maybe :)

He laughed, looking down at the cat who was now purring contently under his hand. “Looks like you’re a little matchmaker, huh?” he said, scratching behind Winston’s ears.

Winston just purred louder, and Buck couldn’t help but feel a surge of excitement for Friday night. Maybe having a mischievous cat as a neighbor wasn’t so bad after all.

[midnight-mourning]

Snow Frights & Snowball Fights

❄️❄️Midnight's DCA December Day 3❄️❄️

ITS STILL THE THIRD SOMEWHERE

I just keep having too much fun with these prompts gahhh, hope you enjoy!

Prompt: DCA's first christmas outside the pizzaplex, at reader's house maybe? At least a snow fight scene would be fun (I have never been in a snow fight so it's fun to read lols)

Word Count: 1825

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

"Fire extinguisher! We need the fire extinguisher!"

You cough, hand waving through the thick smoke in your kitchen, "I just, need an oven mitt. It's okay—"

"Found it!" Sun runs in frantically, trips, and faceplants on the floor beside you, as you take the burnt cookies out of the oven. 

Your smoke detector blares loudly above you, fume hood fan roaring just as loudly in your ears as it—slightly—helps to remove the smoke from your kitchen.

Once everything calms down again, namely Sun, you're able to assess the damage. 

Besides a tray of blackened husks you could once call cookies, not much at all. Sun wasn't banged up from his fall, and surprisingly neither was the fire extinguisher. Though, the emotional toll it had taken on both of you was much higher. And that was only the reactions you knew of, you can only imagine how Moon's feeling right now. 

Every holiday event or activity you'd tried to attempt with the attendants had ended sourly. From gift-wrapping, to gift-shopping, ice-skating, tree decorating, and so on and so forth. All of it had ended in complete and utter disaster.

And now, you could add cookie baking to that ever-growing list. 

You pick up one of the burnt black slabs—the result of an incorrect timer—and sigh. You were starting to feel defeated. You'd wanted this holiday season to be special, because it was their first outside the Plex. The first time you could truly share in the experience together, and so far, it'd gone horribly. 

To their credit, they'd both been great sports about it. Never actively showing disappointment or being upset when things went awry. But really, you think they were just keeping up the facade for your sake. 

Like now, for example. 

"You know, I think with a little bit of icing these might be salvageable!" Sun puts a hand on your shoulder, take the cookie from your hand. 

At that moment, it crumble into black dust, he laughs awkwardly. 

You sigh again, then laugh at the absurdity of it all. "I appreciate it, Sun. But I think if I even attempted to eat one of these I'd die instantly."

You pick up the tray, and carry it over to the trash, dumping it unceremoniously. 

"I'm sorry the cookies burnt." He says, sheepishly. "I should have paid better attention to the time."

You wave him off, and walk back over to him. Your arms wrap around his waist as you shake your head. "Nah, it's my fault, I should've known you'd get sucked into 'Rudolph'."

"It's just so interesting! Why is his nose so bright?" He asks, bending down to your level. 

You laugh, kiss him once, then lay your head against his chest. "Your curiosity never ceases to impress me. In a good way. You've always got such a, hope, despite it all."

He holds you closer, chuckling, "You're the one who taught me that, silly."

"See, you always say that, but I've yet to have any proof of it."

Quiet for a moment. 

"Moon thinks it's because you lack self-confidence."

You gasp, pulling back to look the sun-themed bot in the eye, "Rude! He was too shy to even talk to me the first three weeks I started working in the Daycare!"

"He won't admit to it but it's because he thought you were too pretty to talk to." Sun snickers. 

There's a bit of binary then, and as they bicker back and forth your gaze travels over to the window. What you see surprises you greatly. 

"Oh! It's snowing. First one of the season."

At this the binary stops. Sun whips to look outside, so fast that you almost lose your balance and have to break the hug, "Woah! Easy there."

But he's distracted, muttering a brief apology before hurrying over to the window. Once there, he presses both hands and his faceplate to the glass, just staring. 

When he doesn't say anything, you speak up, "Um, you good bud?"

"I've never seen snow in person before." His voice is soft, utterly enthralled, "It's, it's so, calm."

You walk over to stand beside him, watching as well, "Yeah. It is."

You check the forecast and whistle, "Wow, they're calling for a foot. Good thing we went to the store when we did. Won't be leaving home anytime soon."

"What?" That snaps him out of his daze, a bit of panic evident in his tone. 

You shrug, "Well, the roads will be covered, and it'll take a bit before anyone clears ours for sure. No big deal, just means I don't have to worry about work for a day or so."

He relaxes, "Oh, good. That means more time you can spend with us instead!"

"Exactly,"—you grin—"Tell you what, we'll go out in a couple hours and build a snowman or something, that'll be fun." 

There's no way this can go wrong, you tell yourself. It's just frozen water. Nope, no way. This'll be perfect. 

And so, after a few hours past, you bundle up and head outside. 

Sun of course had no need to worry about the cold, but there was the concern of water in his system, so he was dressed in a coat and scarf as well. 

It's still snowing as you exit your house, but not to the point it was uncomfortable. Just a soft, gentle snowfall. 

"Alright! Let's get to work," You bend down and start collecting snow, finding that it packs easily. Perfect, this is going exactly as planned—

You realize Sun's not standing beside you. 

Looking up, you find he's still standing in the doorway, half in, half out. Probably driving up your electricity bill while he's at it. 

But, based on the apprehension present in his body, any annoyance you might have stays buried away. 

You stop forming your snowman, only a small ball in your hand, "Is everything alright?"

"Just fine!" He calls over to you, but shrinks back inside more when a snowflake hits his face. 

You frown, and he seems to notice. 

He chuckles quietly. "Though, I suppose it's a little intimidating, as silly as that sounds."

You smile then, but inside your heart is twisting at the adorableness of the eight foot tall robot being afraid of snow. 

There was two ways you could remedy this. One being a much gentler and smoother approach than the other. 

Your brain decided on the violent option. 

On instinct, you launch the snowball in your hand at him, meaning to playfully hit his jacket. But you'd underestimated your throwing capacity. 

To your horror, it flies rapidly at the bot, landing square in the middle of his faceplate. Your eyes widen, hand coming up to your mouth. 

Immediately you're apologizing, "Oh my gosh, Sun I'm so sorry I promise I didn't mean to—"

"What. Was that."

Confusion mixes with panic, "I—a snowball? You know, like a snowball fight? But really are you okay?"

His hand raises and in one swoop, clears off his face. Then, he bends down, scoops up a pile a snow, forming a ball in his hand. 

*Poof!*

You look down, and sure enough, the remains of his snowball are on your chest. You look back up again and see he's already making another. 

You start to smile, and when he glances back to you, eyes upturned crescents, you realize that he's not upset. 

"I suggest you start gathering an arsenal, Starshine. Because I will not be holding back."

Your smile bleeds into a grin, and you instantly get to work. Before you can finish forming your return projectile, he's hitting you with another, and another. 

As it would turn out, the Daycare Attendant would be a skilled fighter when it came to snow. You didn't stand a chance.

Sun was quicker, had better aim, and better agility than you in any shape or form. By the time you called it quits, after literal hours of going back and forth, you were covered head to toe. And cold. So very cold. 

But, it was worth it. Witnessing the pure, unbridled joy he displayed as he threw volley after volley at you. Laughter near diabolical as he dominated the field over you. That was worth any amount of chill to you. 

Besides, at the end, when you bitterly admitted defeat, you'd been rewarded for your efforts, handsomely you might add. 

When attempting another throw at Sun—who was quickly getting closer—you trip, falling back into the snow. At the same time, your hit him with your weak attempt at a snowball, but he's so concerned about you it dazes him, causing him to stumble and fall as well. 

He catches himself before landing on you, hands planted on either side of your head, eyes wide. 

"Hi,"—you breathe out—"Funny seeing you here."

"Quite the coincidence."

You stare at each other for a moment. 

"Alright, I give up." You put your hands up between the two of you. "You and your freakishly good aim win."

He laughs. "Your effort was valiant, Sunbeam, but unfortunately for you, it simply wasn't enough."

You huff, but it doesn't hide your smile. 

"However, for being a noble competitor, and succeeding gracefully, you deserve a reward."

Before you can question what he means, Sun's leant down and placed his smile to your lips. Pulling away a moment later.

You nod, more to yourself. "Well that might've actually been worth it—"

A snowball is dropped onto your chest, disintegrating with little fanfare. 

You blink, then narrow your eyes up at the Attendant. "That's a dirty trick. One I won't be falling for again."

But yet, sometime later, after time to reheat and a bit of dinner, you find yourself back outside in the dark with the former naptime attendant.

You're prepared for this round though and—whether he lets you or not—you defeat him in this battle. 

Fully of adrenaline from your victory, you pull him in a half-hug and tumble to the ground together, this time however, you're the one on top. 

"Does this mean I get a kiss now?" Moon asks with a chuckle. 

You smirk, head held high, "I suppose. It's only fair, after all."

You bend your neck down, kissing him once. As you pull back, you're shocked to feel a bit of snow land on your head and neck. 

You shake your head, snow flying and make a noise, reaching out for more of the stuff to pile on Moon's faceplate. His snickering only drives your desire to get revenge, the two of you looking like idiots as you fling snow at each other while lying on the ground. 

You end up with a runny nose the next day, and a scolding from Sun, but as you sip on hot chocolate and cuddle on the couch with the—still slightly—displeased animatronic, you'd argue that it was worth it. 

Definitely worth it.

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

And another done! Thank you to @deviouscrackers for the request. Finding out you've never gotten to have a snowball fight made this personal /j hope I was able to capture it for you :)

If you'd like to request, you have until 12/13 OR until all slots are filled, currently 11 of 31 are taken! See here for more details, thanks for reading!

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@scarletcowboy @beemyhuneybee @fishm0ther @deviouscrackers @elsajoyagent8

@luckyyyduckyyy @zenkaiankoku @jogimote @local-shrub @amarynthian-chronicles

@robinette-green @everlightreader @sinister-sincerely @starredeclipse @dangerva

@juukai @crystalmagpie447 @mothgutz236 @lizyxml

[ajesterwrites]

9. the fatalist

summary: you spontaneously visit the boarding mansion, but it's not stefan who awaits you.

pairings: damon salvatore x reader, stefan salvatore x reader

warnings: none

word count: 2.2K

YOU WEREN'T USED to running. For you, everything was all about poise. You could be doing something you absolutely hated, as long as you looked good doing it. But after you were sent to Coral City's Trauma Center, you changed. Before, you had values, morals, a specific set of rules that guided you through life and your relationships. Then suddenly...you didn't.

The adjustment was difficult, but you tackled a fresh mindset and embraced your new identity with style. So the concept of you knocking on the door of a boy you met only a few days prior was something that would turn almost anyone's head.

Even as you rang the ancient doorbell, you couldn't help but laugh. The mere idea of you awkwardly standing outside, waiting for someone to answer, was absurd. But now it was you. And only you, since after five minutes of waiting, the only thing that greeted you was silence.

For a moment, you thought you had the wrong address. But you'd seen the picture Caroline sent you, a photo undoubtedly obtained by her casual stalking, and a place like that was hard to miss. It didn't even look like a house. It was more like a mansion you'd find in a horror film or a murder-mystery.

Reluctantly, you slammed the door knocker four times. The door creaked opened. You gasped quietly. Peering through the narrow opening, you realized you had three options.

Either you could wait a little longer and risk looking desperate, go inside and risk looking invasive, or you could leave. Nobody would know that you were ever there, which could save you some dignity.

Opting for the third choice, you followed your nature, and turned to go. You hadn't even walked two feet when a black crow nearly crashed into you. You yelped and ducked instinctively, covering your head with your hands, and then whirled around to find yourself gazing into the mesmerizing crystal blue eyes of a handsome stranger.

"Oh my god," You blurted out, placing a hand over your thumping heart. The stranger towered over you, smirking mischievously, and tilted his head to the side as if to say What's this?

"You must be Y/N," The man replied coolly. There was something about his tone that made you feel...off. It was charming and alluring, like the bright tip of a flame waiting to burn you. "I'm Damon, Stefan's brother."

You frowned. Brother? "I didn't even know he had a brother."

"Well Stefan's not one to brag," Damon joked. You chuckled softly. He reached his arm out, motioning for you to come forth. "Please, come in. I'm sure Stefan will be along any second."

You followed him inside and shut the door behind you. "Do you always keep your door open like that? I mean aren't you afraid of anyone getting in?"

"Nope."

"Then you must be pretty confident in your self-defense abilities," You said, but Stefan's brother was so unresponsive you weren't sure if the words actually left your mouth. As you looked around the enormous home, you noticed there was no security system installed. And Damon looked like a man who could defend himself. "Wow. This is your living room?"

"Living room, parlor...Sotheby's auction," He quipped. He stopped beside you. Your eyes wandered the room in awe. Between the regal rugs, chairs, lamps, and paint job, it was easy to say Stefan and his family had exquisite style. They'd really embraced the whole vintage vibe in a beautiful way. "It's a little kitschy for my taste."

You nodded slowly, but even you couldn't hide your surprise as you marveled at the setting.

"I see why my brother's so smitten," Damon said, turning to face you. You looked at him. Stefan was smitten? Had he...talked about you to Damon? That was a good sign, at least. "It's about time. For a while there, I never thought he'd get over the last one. Nearly destroyed him."

You furrowed your eyebrows. You didn't expect someone with Stefan's face to stay single forever, but there was something about his tone that didn't seem right. He was trying to tell you something and it seemed like he was trying to let you know that without making it obvious.

"The last one?" You asked, painfully ignorant.

"Yeah. Katherine, his girlfriend?" Damon said, frowning insincerely when he saw that puzzled look on your face. "Oh, you two haven't had the awkward exes conversation yet."

You smiled politely. "Why linger in the past when there's a whole future ahead of you, right?"

"Interesting mindset," He replied, pretending to ponder your words. "It's too bad he's not looking for a relationship, he could really use someone like you in his life."

"We're just friends," You murmured, hoping to salvage some control over this conversation. Technically, you were being truthful. You were just friends—the reason you'd showed up was because you'd hoped you could be more, but you were beginning to regret it.

Damon nodded. "That's good. I would hate for you two to get involved when he's on the rebound. We all know how those relationships end."

You smiled. "Have you always been such a fatalist?"

Damon chuckled softly, keeping his eyes trained on you with a pleased smile stretched across his face. "Hello, Stefan."

You turned to see Stefan standing by the entrance. "Y/N." His eyes were fixed on you, but he looked like he wanted to burn a hole in someone's skull—and you had a feeling it wasn't yours. "I didn't know you were coming over."

"Yeah, uh, sorry," You said, stepping toward him. "This was kind of a spur of the moment thing and I really didn't think this through. It's stupid, I know, I just-"

"Oh, don't be silly," Damon intervened, coming to your side. "You're welcome any time. Isn't she, Stefan?"

Stefan didn't respond. Instead he just stood there, paralyzed, his thickening gaze boring into his inattentive brother. Or maybe Damon did notice the way Stefan was staring at him with such flaming eyes but simply didn't care.

"You know, I should break out the family photo albums or some home movies," Damon went on. You struggled to keep your eyes on him when you could practically feel Stefan's impenetrable, long look. "But I have to warn you. He wasn't always such a looker."

"Thank you for stopping by, Y/N," Stefan spoke up monotonously, darting his eyes to you occasionally but maintaining Damon as his primary target. "Nice to see you."

If poison had a voice, that would be it. You couldn't pinpoint exactly what was going on, but the only thing you did know was that this wasn't your problem and you weren't going to make it yours. The tension between the two was incredibly palpable, suffocating even. You'd never felt anything like it. You never knew that family members could hate each other so much.

"Um, yeah, okay," You said awkwardly, taking Stefan's lingering gaze as your cue to leave. "It was nice meeting you, Damon."

"Great meeting you too, Y/N," He replied. Without tearing his gaze from yours, he lifted your hand and pressed his lips against your knuckles.

Caught off guard by his gesture, you stood there in a daze and smiled forcefully before turning to the other brother. You opened your mouth to say something to Stefan, but quickly shut it and gave him a small nod of acknowledgement before scurrying out.

And this is why I don't run.

◇◇◇

By the time you got to your house, you were exhausted. On your way there, your bike tires blew out so you'd been forced to walk halfway, and it'd been lifetimes since you walked such a great distance. All you wanted to do was take a relaxing shower and sleep. But you learned a long time ago that life wasn't there to cater to your desires. You didn't know exactly what its purpose was, all you knew was that when you arrived inside, Bonnie and Caroline's laughter floated through the house.

You followed their voices to the kitchen and stopped. "What are you guys doing here?"

Bonnie looked away from the pot she'd been stirring on the stove and smiled. "Oh, hey, Y/N! Jenna and I are just making jerk chicken from Grams' recipe book and Caroline is baking some cookies for tomorrow night."

"Yeah but enough of that," Caroline said, setting the bowl of batter down so she could prop her elbows on the counter and listen intently. "How'd your talk with Stefan go?"

"Well...I went to his place... and according to his brother-"

Caroline and Bonnie turned to each other and traded confused looks. You didn't speak silence, but still know exactly what they were—or weren't—saying. 

Did we know he had a brother? Caroline asked and you couldn't help but stifle a laugh. She figured Caroline of all people would know the answer to that. Bonnie shook her head; Nope.

"Yes, you heard that right," You confirmed. "He has a brother. And before they got into that weird tense family moment, he told me that Stefan is looking for a rebound, not a relationship. Maybe this is a sign."

Caroline scoffed. "You can't be serious. A sign? Please. That is complete bullshit and you know it."

You blinked. Caroline wasn't one to curse very often.

"You barely even tried!" Caroline continued. "We've been friends for almost a decade, and I know that when you want something, you take it. That's why we have such a great dynamic!"

"She's right, you know," Jenna chimed in, stopping to chew a chocolate chip cookie. "It can't hurt to try again."

You stared at her with uncertainty. It could definitely hurt. It could hurt you. Besides...Holly didn't want you to start new relationships. There was too much that could go wrong. Too many questions that could be posed. "I don't know, it was a long shot anyway. I mean, you saw how things turned out with Matt."

"Yeah, we did," Caroline agreed. "And I wanted to gouge my eyes out with a pitchfork but-"

"Graphic."

"But I've seen you with Stefan, and it's..."

You watched her expectantly, waiting for her to finish the sentence. "It's what?"

"...different."

"What she means is watching you two interact doesn't make innocent bystanders, such as us, want to scrub our eyes out with bleach," Jenna offered, and Caroline nodded perkily in agreement.

You blinked at the pair. "Wow. Is that really how you guys felt when Matt and I were dating?"

"Well, I mean-" Bonnie started to say, but Caroline cut her off.

"Yes," The blonde practically exhaled, as if she'd been waiting to get that off her chest for years. But Caroline had never been one to bite her tongue—you wondered what the sudden confession was about. Especially since she seemed to be interested in Stefan herself. Why help you out when she could easily eliminate the competition?

"Moving on..." Bonnie continued, giving Caroline a warning look before turning to you with a warm smile. "You're finally happy. Really happy. Don't let your fear ruin that."

"What fear? It's not like I'm scared," You scoffed, grabbing a knife to chop vegetables. But after a brief moment under Bonnie's watchful eyes, you sheepishly looked up, biting your lip. "And if, hypothetically speaking, I am, what exactly do I have to be afraid of?"

Bonnie smiled sadly. "This is the happiest you've been since your parents died. And no offense, but you tend to be a little..."

"Pessimistic?" Caroline offered. "Cynical? Apathetic?"

"Yes..." Bonnie responded, a little irritated as she looked over at Caroline, who was too busy tasting her batch to notice. "But believe it not, the world isn't going to catch on fire because your life is good. And even if it does, I'll see it coming."

You laughed. It seemed this psychic thing was going to be a running gag and inside jokes in their lives. You didn't mind. It was nice having things almost return to normal.

"And," Bonnie went on. "Caroline heard from Bobbi, who heard from Kelly, who heard from Cristina, who heard from Margaret that Stefan is going to be at the festival. Maybe you two can patch things up when you get there?"

Caroline smirked. "And if you're really lucky, maybe you two can-"

"I think I wanna focus on a little soul-searching first," You interrupted, fighting back a smile. Your transformation was astounding, to say the least. Four months ago, you probably would've found a way into his pants, but you'd come to appreciate the internal beauty of those around you.

"Trust me." Caroline lowered her voice. "You'll have time to do plenty of searching."

"Caroline!" You and Bonnie exclaimed before bursting into giggles. Caroline smiled proudly while Jenna struggled to fight back a grin.

"This is why I'm the fun one," Caroline commented, pleased with herself.

"Whatever," You scoffed and threw a dish towel at her. Caroline squealed and tried to dodge, but it landed on her face. You and Bonnie erupted in a fit of giggles, and Caroline, though irritated, couldn't help but join in.

[goomyloid]

PLEASE explain your thoughts on kriselle in full detail

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THIS 100% UNPROMPTED ASK! I SHALL EXPLAIN

i hate toby fox. why did he do this to us. he really put it better than anyone else. not really romantic not really platonic but…. something else… some secret more sinister more heartfelt more absurd third thing

i wonder at what point should i clarify that i dont even really seek out kriselle in a romantic context… DONT GET ME WRONG i have zero issues with the ship whatsoever and all of the krisellers out there are living their best (most painful) lives and i SEE THE APPEAL. BUT when i rotate them in my brain i dont need them to kiss or anything like that i just need them to sit down and sadly hold hands and stay like that forever and ever. in case you couldnt gauge that from my art so far

tldr i dont think i ship them in the traditional sense at least …. the things that i usually fixate on for any romantic ship are not there with these two. there are no romantic feelings there In my mind. and all at the same time i start screaming and throwing up and killing myself (all positive) whenever i see them even in the same image together. hngh

ive tried explaining this to people before and they usually suggest something along the lines of a QPR and even that doesnt feel right to me. truly the best way i can put it is… that red string of fate man… which i almost hesitate on saying too because i dont actually know if noelle is Quite an important enough character to the story to warrant a connection like that. WHICH IS A CRAZY THING TO SAY. I KNOW. DO NOT EVEN THINK ABOUT GETTING ME WRONG i think dess and her connections to gaster and her usage as a stepping stone into the weird route are all VERY important… but in my brain its just not kris/knight/asriel/every other mysterious main focus of the story Important. i didnt mean to get into deltarune theorizing here i hope nobody’s blood is boiling rn

so yeah in the end. toby fox once again put it best. they are friends, but they are also something else.

back to the actual pairing though… sometimes i think im going overboard and overestimating how close kris and noelle were as children because noelle will go and say things like “i wonder if we were ever really friends at all.” which is kind of a fair statement considering the circumstances. sure they played together and all and tagged along with their siblings to do stuff together but when dess went missing… it all kind of stopped. kris is just a kid, they dont know what to do or even how to process it, much like noelle. asriel is probably dealing with his own feelings, he just lost his friend and likely old enough to understand the weight of what happened. while noelle and kris cant say much to each other at all.

im always back and forth on speaking headcanons for kris but the one that i always seem to come back to is selective mutism… to me kris had a lot of trouble communicating well as a child and could only grow comfortable around certain people, asriel and noelle being clear examples because they’re both so patient with them. maybe because of this noelle felt like they could understand each other without really needing words, and just physical interaction was enough to achieve some form of closeness… or maybe that was all just on her end, she thinks when kris goes to play the piano. but if that’s the case, why does it feel like a concert just for her…?

jesus dont even get me start on them as teenagers either. noelle has lost her sister, and now kris has lost their brother… but not in the same way. they look at each other and wonder if they’re the same now. or, maybe thats too cruel. maybe its not the same thing at all. asriel’s coming back soon, after all. it will all be over soon, kris won’t have to feel this way for much longer, right? so then, why does kris look so miserable, sitting in the corner over there? all noelle feels like she can do is sit next to them quietly. to be there, and to somehow, vaguely, messily help each other. the misfit kids that dont really know how to talk to each other and yet understand each other regardless

thats why the dark world feels like such a dream to her. these crazy city lights, fantastical creatures, susie’s there, and she actually might have the means to defend herself and stand her ground, whether it be verbally or… otherwise

and most of all, much like with kris offering an adventurous haven to susie in ch1, the same is extended to noelle. by kris’s side, no less. it feels like theyre doing things together again, and its fun, and nostalgic… she wants to bring dess. and i think its okay to assume kris wants to bring asriel, too. recreating the make-believe world they lost so long ago… is it really possible?

no… how can it really be possible, when this isnt kris? something is wrong. its almost perfect, except kris… it’s them, but it’s not. she sees their face, their expressions, their laughs, their worries. and yet the voice that comes from them… isnt them. and it scares her! even if nothing particularly bad happened as a result. and if something bad DID happen, well…

she just wants what they had before back. is it really so impossible? can they reconcile after all these years? does kris want to? is kris capable of doing so? maybe they just need to hug again. will it feel like a real hug? the person she thought she understood is acting in ways she doesnt understand. they’re telling her to do weird things. they cycle through actions as if they just want to know what happens. and they cant even play piano anymore.

[resident-gay-bitch]

May 9; Weed

Ship; Sirius x Barty (bitchkiller)

@marauders-rarepair-fics

Sirius honestly couldn’t believe he was doing this. Going to Crouch for his much needed relaxation time. Honestly, Crouch and relaxation is the biggest oxymoron Sirius had ever heard.

But, well, desperate times desperate measures, and all that crap.

Crouch couldn’t believe it either, when Sirius came knocking out by the greenhouse, asking for some weed. It’s just that the Gryffindor guy got caught last month, slacking, smoking too much of his own supply or something. So Sirius hasn’t gotten high in over a month, and he just needs a break.

Especially from all that blasted studying Moony and Worms are doing, constantly it’s just scratch scratch scratch of quills on parchment, and flipping of pages, and humming. Oh, Sirius can’t stand the humming.

So yeah, he’s here now, getting high with Crouch because he remembered Regulus saying he delt. Because he didn’t want to get high alone, and James is on his date with Lily, and Mary’s on her date with Marlene, and Peter and Remus are studying (which Sirius would also like to dub a date since they spend all their fucking time together). And Crouch, whilst probably a psychopath, is actually funny sometimes.

Not funny in the way any of Sirius’ friends are funny. No, funny because he does dumb shit and says stupid things and Sirius can laugh at him. He honestly thought getting high with Barty would be amusing. Like a freak show or something.

But now he’s here, one and a half joints in, passing it back and forth with the bloke, and he’s actually enjoying himself. Somehow.

They’re judging people, sitting up on the stone wall and swinging their legs about, mocking anyone that walks past. They’re laughing together, not at each other, and surprisingly getting along.

At one point Reggie walked past and was instantly weirded out by them getting along, and so they both heckled the shit out of him and then spent five minutes laughing about it.

And Barty actually has some interesting things to say, and he’s much smarter than Sirius had assumed. When he popped the question as to why Barty wasn’t studying, he simply said he didn’t care, and that he didn’t study for his last exams and got full marks for all of them.

And a lot of the jokes he makes are actually quite intelligent.

And he’s not a total arsehole either. Maybe. Well, he’s definitely an arsehole, as they’re sitting here together making fun of people, but not a total dick.

He’s not being a dick to Sirius and that’s the main thing.

And he’s not bad looking. Okay, maybe that’s also a lie, he’s quite weird looking. But Sirius tends to like that. He’s captivated by his absurd lankyness, and his crooked smile, and knobbly fingers, and his scruffy eyebrows, and his hooked nose that he seemingly has had broken at least once.

And for some reason Sirius is wondering what he might look like with his clothes off.

It’s night now, and the castles dark, and everyone’s gone to dinner. Sirius is hungry, and he can hear Barty’s stomach rumbling too. They haven’t had anything to eat (besides that half packet of crisps Barty stole from a third year) since they started smoking, and are really starting to feel it.

But suddenly they’re alone, and the air is warm, and their inhibitions are lowered, and Barty’s looking at him.

He’s looking at him.

“Would you punch me if I kissed you right now?” Barty asked, catching him off guard.

“Do you want me to punch you, if you kiss me?” Sirius asked back.

Barty smirked, “Depends how mean your punch is. Promise to make me bleed?”

“I don’t want a busted knuckle.” He shrugged, leaning back against the piller.

“So you won’t punch me then?”

“I guess not.” Sirius sighed, “Are you gonna punch me for it?”

“I could.” Barty grinned, crawling over to him, “Maybe we could get into a bit of a fight.”

“You’d probably like that, wouldn’t you?”

“Yeah, probably.” Barty grinned, licking up the side of his face.

Sirius smirked, grabbing his chin with rough finger tips, “Good effort, but it would take much more to disturb me, Crouch.”

“You’re more fun than I thought.” Barty smirked, “I expected you to be a party pooper like your brother. But you’re a little insane, aren’t you?”

“Darling, I don’t think you get to decide who’s insane or not.” Sirius teased.

“Piss off, fucker. Takes one to know one.” Barty waggled his eye brows, “And don’t call me darling unless you plan on wining and dining-“

“Oh, shut up.” Sirius groaned, pulling him in to kiss.

And yeah, maybe Barty isn’t so bad after all. Besides, his weed is pretty good, so Sirius is just going to come back for more, isn’t he?

[capquinn]

Baby’s first Christmas/Hanukkah would be so cute 🥹 The soft lights would be so calming to them as Quinn is trying to get them to fall back asleep in the middle of the night. Dressing the baby in the cutest onesies too. They would take it so seriously getting an absurd amount of presents even though the baby won’t remember anything.

this is so sweet to think about!!! so i took the christmas lights idea and ran with it, hope u enjoy <3

The house was still, the kind of quiet that only comes in the dead of night, when everyone else is asleep, and the world outside seems to pause for a moment. The faint hum of the heater, the soft rustle of the trees outside, and the occasional creak of the house settling were the only sounds that broke the silence. That was until midnight rolled around, and by now you and Quinn had spent hours trying to soothe Bug, tag-teaming as she woke for the third...fourth...fifth time, her cries cutting through the stillness of the night. The clock on the wall ticked quietly, a reminder of how late it had gotten, and how much you both longed for sleep. But tonight, it seemed like nothing was quite working. Bug was restless, her little whimpers carrying through the house, and you both had reached the point where you needed a change of scenery. The walls of her nursery suddenly suffocating. So, Quinn had taken her from your arms, deciding that a quiet walk through the living room, with its soft Christmas lights, might be just the thing to settle her down.

In the living room, the soft glow of the Christmas tree is the only light, its warm white lights casting gentle shadows that dance across the walls. The house is quiet, wrapped in a peaceful hush, as if the world outside has come to a standstill.

Quinn moves slowly, carefully, like he’s trying not to disturb the calm that’s settled over everything, trying to hold on to this last sliver of peace just for Bug, hoping that somehow it'll be enough to lull her back to sleep but the way he sways back and forth with each step speaks to how tired he is, how much he just wants to settle into sleep too.

Bug’s tiny eyes flicker restlessly, darting around the room as though she’s searching for something — anything — to anchor her in the vastness of the night. The silence presses heavy, the kind that seems to stretch too far, too wide, for someone so small.

She squirms in Quinn’s arms, her little body shifting, twisting, trying to find that elusive perfect spot. Her hand reaches out instinctively, brushing against his shirt before clutching the fabric tight, her fingers curling into it like it’s a lifeline. There’s a quiet desperation to the gesture, a need for reassurance in the familiar, the solid, and Quinn, ever steady, lets her hold on, his hand tracing slow, soothing circles on her back, his movements unhurried, patient. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat thrums against her cheek and bit by bit, her restless energy begins to ebb, the tension unraveling as though the air itself is coaxing her toward calm.

“It’s alright,” he whispers, his voice low and steady as he cradles her closer. “Dad’s right here. I’ve got you.”

Her small head presses against his chest, nestling deeper into the warmth and strength she finds there. A tiny sigh escapes her lips, her breath feather-light against his skin, and he feels her little body start to relax. Slowly, she melts into him, her movements ceasing, her weight resting fully in his arms. It’s instinctive, like her tiny frame knows exactly where it belongs, perfectly matched to the rise and fall of his breathing, and Quinn holds her like he never wants to let go.

As he moves, his steps slow and deliberate, the twinkling lights of the Christmas tree catch her gaze. Her eyes, wide and brimming with curiosity, track the soft glow, the flickering patterns reflecting in her dark pupils. The lights blink in and out, almost like a slow breath, like the room itself is breathing along with them, settling into the night. Her little hand loosens its grip on his shirt, the tension slipping away entirely as the lights captivate her, drawing her into their quiet magic.

Quinn watches her, his own heart softening at the sight of her tiny wonder. Her lips part ever so slightly, the beginnings of a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth, small and sleepy. Her eyes blink slower now, and for a moment, her lashes flutter, like the briefest struggle between wanting to stay awake and the pull of something softer.

She exhales a long, contented sigh, her breath warm against his chest as her eyelids finally give in and with them, her small body grows heavier too, her limbs fully relaxed as sleep claims her.

Quinn holds her close, his steps slowing to a standstill as the moment washes over him. It’s more relief than anything else, the quiet joy of seeing her finally still, her tiny body relaxed and her breaths soft and steady under the glow of the Christmas tree lights. For now, he feels a weight lift — grateful for this small reprieve, happy that he can finally retreat back to bed and steal a few hours of rest himself… until the next time she needs him.

[melodyofthevoid]

How about 17 with Delta and Maria?

When Delta heard a crash and a shout come from below deck, the usual line of suspects ran through her mind.

A stowaway (again) caught and causing an issue

A prank gone wrong (an unfortunate side effect of Sylvia and Ryker sharing any proximity)

A third and unknown danger not yet accounted for.

With the increased bounties on the heads of the crew on board, she leaned towards the latter option.

She ran below, stumbling towards the sound and coming across... Mariza. Tangled in the shredded and sopping remains of her hammock as her arm tried and failed to bring itself back together, cut off at the elbow as nothing but water.

The human flinched as she turned towards Delta, mouth drawn in a grimace.

"Hey."

"So... any reason you attacked your poor bed there?"

"It had it coming. Seems to attract nothing but problems."

Nightmares then.

Well obviously nightmares, but any line of questions directed would... probably not end in Mariza spilling her guts.

"Anything I can do? I could set up a night light? Get some of that water that glows like your hair or something. Maybe that would," Delta trailed off, "help?"

Stupid. Why the fuck did she say that??? She gave an exaggerated shrug, hoping it read as a joke. Which it was. Partially.

Mariza blinked at her with mismatched eyes, the blinding blue-green light that nearly lit up the room before dimming as she erupted in laughter, shoulders shaking as she filled the room. It cut like a sword, wielded in defiance more often than not. Now though, it only cut the silence.

"HAH! Haha- oh by the stars- could you- could you imagine? All powerful Samira, shooed away by a little light? The moon themselves-"

Her laughter turned into howls, tears flowing down her cheeks as she fell to the floor. Delta, helpless to resist, joined in her mirth.

"Do you- do you think Larus is scared of those straw-men they put in fields? Does he run into glass?"

"No no- he runs after the scraps of bread, and do you think Dahlia ever craves sugar cubes? Does she just- grow it herself?"

They traded ever more absurd scenarios back and forth, until neither could breath through their laughter. Mariza recovered first, still giggling as she gulped for air.

"I wish- I wish it was that easy to get Samira to leave me alone. They're can't get enough."

"At the expense of a poor innocent hammock. Truly a shame. Listen- actually- You can sleep in mine- if you don't mind. I can take the rest of the watch tonight and sleep in the morning. Just don't shred it too."

"I don't plan on it. I'm not even tired anymore."

Delta gave her a grin, "Alright then. We'll spare the hammock one more night. We'll figure something out until we hit another port."

There was room to share...

Maybe she'd ask in the morning.

[jerseyshoresy]

You’re On Thin Ice, Buddy

FLUFF

Shoresy teaches you to ice skate!

Shoresy x gn reader

Warnings: cussing

“What the fuck do you mean, you’ve never been ice skating?” Shoresy was looking at you with such incredulity that you had to look away in embarrassment. He continued his tirade while skating back and forth in front of you as you watched from the bench.

“You’re Canadian, for fuck’s sake! Never been on the ice. Your parents should be arrested. That’s fucking shameful.”

You were expecting a strong response from your longtime friend (and crush), but this was just absurd.

“So what I’ve never been on the ice? It’s not that unheard of. You’re acting like I told you I have a secret third arm or never heard Celine Dion,” you argued to yourself, realizing Shoresy was gone. Sighing, you took in your surroundings. You always wanted to skate, especially in a rink like this, but you were too afraid. You had gotten teased in the past about your lack of experience skating, yet it never bothered you until Shoresy gave you shit for it today. You knew teasing was all in good fun for him but you just couldn’t shake the heartache from his accusatory tone. You got up to leave the rink and catch up with Shoresy later when all of a sudden he came skating over to you.

“Y/n! Look at what I found!” He held up a pair of battered skates. “Size (insert here), ready to go.”

You would’ve been beyond flattered that he somehow remembered your shoe size if you weren’t too busy focusing on not throwing up all over yourself from nervousness.

“Shoresy, I’m not sure this is a good idea. I’m really not that balanced and—“

“Y/n,” he replied, a hand grasping your shoulder, “you can do this. There’s no better feeling than being on the ice. I want you to experience that too.”

You felt yourself melting in his eager gaze. Before you knew it, you were all laced up and gingerly standing on the blades. Shoresy slowly coaxed you out from the bench and onto the actual rink where you began to slowly but surely make your way around the edge.

“See? You got it so far. You’re doing good.” His words of affirmation and hand on yours made your face warm up with a blush. You made a few more circles around the rink and you were finally starting to get the hang of it.

“Okay. I’m gonna try it by myself now,” you said, reluctantly letting go of Shoresy’s hand. You never realized how empty your own hand felt until you missed the touch of the man you came to love. Taking in a deep breath for encouragement, you pushed off with your skates. You savored the feeling of the slight breeze on your face as you skated around the rink. After a few slow laps you made your way back to Shoresy. You decided since your lessons had gone well so far, you could speed up a fair amount. Everything was going well until the last few seconds. One moment you were upright and laughing, and the next you were tumbling down, on your way to meet the ice with your face. You didn’t even have time to react before you felt a strong grip hoist you up as your knee smacked against the ice.

“Holy fuck, y/n, are you alright?” Shoresy anxiously eyed you up and down, taking in any injuries you might have acquired. You felt tears well in your eyes but you were determined to keep them at bay.

“I’m okay. Can we go sit down for a second, please? I think I really hurt my knee.”

Shoresy nodded and helped you skate over to the bench. As you sat down, he took note of your inability to do anything without little groans of pain. Wordlessly, he scooped you up and brought you to the locker room. After setting you down on the bench carefully, he unlaced your skates and brought you an ice pack. As he sat on the bench next to you, he picked up your leg and placed it on his lap.

“I’m gonna feel around your knee to see where it’s bruised. Let me know if it hurts too much, okay?”

You nodded, your heart pounding with anxiety due to your injury and the closeness of Shoresy. You felt your breath hitch as his fingers began sliding over your knee. All your worries were immediately put to rest—you couldn’t believe he was handling you with such care. Your heart was fluttering in your chest from his ghostly soft touches. You never wanted this moment to end, but you were pulled from your enchantment when he broke the comfortable silence.

“Good news is, nothing serious. Fuck’s sake though, y/n, you scared me, and I don’t say that often. I thought you were gonna take a tumble and hit your head. I don’t know what I would do if you got hurt.” You weren’t sure exactly what he meant by that so you decided to take a leap of faith.

“Shoresy,” you half whispered, “thank you for today. All of it. And I mean it.” You glanced at his lips, then slowly started to lean in. He quickly took the hint and met your lips with his own. You felt like there were fireworks going off in your stomach as he deepened the kiss, gripping your waist and the back of your neck. After what felt like the shortest yet longest moment of your life, you two finally pulled away for air, lips still slightly parted.

“Yeah, so…,” Shoresy said, a bit flustered, but you just smiled.

“Now that my knee’s all busted, I need someone to drive me home. And I may need someone who’s already proven themselves as a very capable man to nurse me back to health.” This time it was Shoresy’s turn to smile (that missing tooth make you fall even harder for him, it’s just so charming!).

“Do I get to wear a sexy nurse outfit?”

“You can wear whatever you want as long as I get a break from ice skating for at least a year.”

“Deal.”

[drconstellation]

The Great War of Tadfield Manor

Future Echoes of the Past #1

One of the books on the shelf that Jimbriel is organizing is Catch-22, by Joseph Heller. I have to admit it’s been a while since I read it, (er, several decades, if I’m truthful about it) but my enduring memory is it seemed like the author wrote it in a linear fashion, then took all the chapters and threw them up in the air and put them back together at random, because it bounces back and forth in time in a confusing kind of way. There is a method to this madness, however, and the structure is deliberate. It’s also dealing with bureaucratic absurdity, but that’s not what I’m trying to explore in this particular meta. It’s the bouncing back and forth in time bit.

Now we have two series of GO to feast on, we seem to be slowly piecing together the expanded history of the GO universe in an inferred kind of way. It’s rarely given to us directly in a chunk, it’s mostly by a comment here and there and then we try to join the dots.

So we’ve learnt that there was a great deal of time that existed for Heaven before time on Earth got started, in 4004 BC, maybe an ineffably long period of time, maybe millions of years, maybe not. Sometime prior to 4004 BC, however, there was a rebellion in Heaven between at least two factions of the angels. This event is sometimes called the Great War - which is what Aziraphale is referring to in S2E6 when he is removing his halo for demon-detonating purposes; he’s not referring to what us humans would call World War 1 in the early 20th century. The result of the Great War led to the formation of Hell. The angel known as Lucifer was the leader of the losing side, and he was known as Satan afterwords. A third of the heavenly host of angels were sent with him down to Hell, and this event is called the Fall. They became fallen angels, or demons. At some point, there is supposed to be a second War, one that will decide who is the winner once and for all time. Well, that’s supposed to be the Plan - God’s Ineffable Great Plan, right? And we all know how the first attempt for that to get started ended up, don’t we?

As we start to look more closely into parallel stories and scenes between the two series, some curious pairs of parallels are starting to emerge. And even more interesting is that some of these pairs indicate that they will get a third presentation  - I’m not just talking about the 1941 Blitz scene here, there are others! And I’m going to try and talk about one of them here, that I think has largely slipped under the radar up until just recently.

There was a meta by @newfangledfancy here about the two parallel scenes in S1 and S2 involving miraculous escapes from being shot with a loaded gun, and we should expect a third one in S3. It’s worth pausing and heading over to read it at this point, but if you don’t, I’ll try to fill you in - and I will revisit in the future, as while it contained the seeds of inspiration for this meta, it also reveals something interesting about Crowley's backstory that's worth discussing on its own. You probably know what and where the S2 “miraculous escape” is referring to: the Bullet Catch scene during the 1941 Blitz minisode in S2E4. But where is the one in S1? It’s at Tadfield Manor, in S1E2, after Crowley has turned all the paintball guns into real guns, and Norman, on the yellow team, cracks it, does a big rant about his life and charges into the firing line of the opposing red team, only to be shot straight in the heart.

Let’s rewind this a little bit, because I want to talk about when Crowley and Aziraphale first arrive at Tadfield Manor. All seems calm and quiet. They stroll in side by side – and are each shot by a paintball. Yep, this has been watched over and over, comments made about the colours of the paint, how they represent their various “sides”, and the sexual innuendo in way Crowley miracles it away after Aziraphale makes heart-eyes at him. But you’ve all missed once very important clue about what was about to go down in the next few minutes that was right in front of you all along.

Maybe I should pause this meta just here and refer back to my big colour meta I posted recently. I specifically went to all that work so I could come here and discuss the following event at Tadfield Manor.

Firstly, the paintball colours. There are three: blue, yellow and red.  

There is a discrepancy between the colour that book!Crowley and screen!Crowley gets hit by. In the book its yellow, but in the tv series its red. Just at this point I’m going to emphasize that yellow is not the same as gold; gold is one of the colours of Heaven, but yellow is usually associated with fear.

Secondly, Aziraphale is hit with blue paint. That’s consistent with both book and tv. Then Crowley blows the blue taint of Heaven away, because Aziraphale needs help to escape its abusive clutches, its not something he can do on his own. Ah, a cute demonstrative metaphor there, another layer to that little scene.

BUT YOU DON’T SEE A BLUE COLOURED TEAM IN THE FOLLOWING BATTLE! Where is the blue team, that supposedly represents Heaven in the following battle? Did they just vanish when Crowley snapped his demon-miracle into place? I dunno, but we just see a yellow and a red coded team for the rest of the battle. But if blue is always Heaven-coded, yellow is fear, and red, while often demon-associated should be seen more as an indication of passion…what it really going on? Who is at war with who? It can’t be Heaven against Hell, because Heaven is not present, per se, as you know it, and neither is Hell, which is usually green. Oh no, it’s not that black and white…because we are watching a battle where Hell doesn’t yet exist, there is only Heaven at this point. One side, one faction, in fear, the other fighting with passion, and the division that actually creates the ‘blue’ side is yet to occur…

We’re watching a re-enactment of the Great War.

Let’s take another step back, to here: S1E2, around 15.46 minutes in. Newton Pulsifer is about to start a new job (wait, what? What the Hell is Newt doing mixed up in this? To honest, I'm not quite sure...*looks at a certain at note she made IN ALLCAPS again*...oh ffs- that is the worst joke, its got to be one of Terry's...now I can't stop cackling...oh, god now I've spotted another awful, awful joke...poor Newt, I love you more every second...)

*ahem* Back to the impending battle. Because it's here in the office of UNITED WORLDWIDE HOLDINGS (HOLDINGS) - an office *wink wink* of management and bureaucracy, that we establish the tension. As Newt slides into his seat, Nigel the manager arrives to ask who is exited about the upcoming "training initiative." Turns out, not really anyone has much enthusiasm for it.

Janice is going to complain to HR. Nigel points out there is no "I" in team, and Norman, who apparently organized the whole thing, proceeds to pick the three 'eyes' out of the "team building exercise."

This is going well, isn't it? [Newt departs. His role here is done.]

Lets skip to Tadfield Manor and the "training initiative" is underway. The Red team, lead by Nigel the Manager, seem to have the upper hand. The Yellow team see to be pleased at a chance to let off some steam with anyone who has annoyed them, the bitches.

Then God drops in to make an interesting observation.

Firms these days expected more than that. They wanted to establish leadership potential, group cooperation, and initiative, which allowed their employees to fire paintballs at any colleagues who irritated them.

Oh. Right. Lets deliberately cause a little chaos so we can see who's got leadership potential, who works together, and who actually has some brains? Go God! Lets start a little War and we'll pick the new Archangels out of the winners? Nice one. Plus, we get rid of all the troublemakers in the process, and we'll just be left with those who like to follow management's orders...

Then Crowley ups the ante. As the young woman who was the only keen employee to come, and is on the Red team, no less, runs past and asks "Who's winning?" he snaps his fingers and to change all the paintball guns to real guns.

Cr: You're all going to lose. Az: What - what the Hell did you just do? Cr: Oh, they wanted real guns, so I gave them what they wanted.

You're all going to lose.

Aziraphale does his best to protest at the demon's bit of wicked mischief.

Az: But there are people out there shooting at each other! Cr: Well -  Lends weight to their moral argument. Everyone has free will, including the right to murder. Just think of it as a microcosm of the universe.

A microcosm of the universe?

Who's universe, Crowley? Yours? The humans? It's a big universe out there...

Things don't seem to be going to well for some, and Norman, on the Yellow team, has finally reached his breaking point. He makes a declaration. I'm only going to quote the last bit of his little speech, as I want to deal with the first bit in another meta. As he takes off his tie, and wraps it around his head, he says:

"They want war, we're going to give 'em war! OK guys, let's go get the bastards!"

Hmmm. Do the visuals remind you of anything?...

He turns around to charge out - and is promptly shot in the heart. While it's Nigel the manager he is facing when it happens, it's actually the young woman from the Red Team who ran past Crowley and Aziraphale inside the Manor, who asked who was winning, that fired the shot. The implications of this? I'm going to save that for another meta.

The sequence moves on to the infamous wall-slam encounter, which I don't think we need to go over here, so lets skip to where Crowley and Aziraphale have finished questioning the past-Sister Mary Loquacious and have decided they've found all they are going to find here its time to leave. The police have arrived and have broken up the fight. The fun and games are over. As they walk, floating unnoticed and serene, through the chaos, Aziraphale starts to ponder.

Az: You'd think he'd show up, wouldn't you? You'd think we could detect him in some way. Cr: He wont show up, not to us. Protective camouflage. He wont even know that his powers will keep him hidden from prying occult forces. Az: Occult forces? Cr: You and me. Az: I'm not occult. Angels aren't occult, we're ethereal.

Crowley refers to the two of them as one kind of entity, but Aziraphale insists there is a difference - they aren't the same. Not any more.

The War is over, and the division between Heaven and Hell has been created.

[Edit: I've since finished a meta on the Bentley and it's connection to crossing the thresholds between worlds. I mention this scene in it, as it is actually a beautiful example of two different times and places existing at once, overlaid on one another, as indicated by the smoke - that's a sign we are in a subliminal space. Its why Aziraphale and Crowley seem to just glide through untouched and noticed, as they aren't really there, in a way.]

Will we see another echo of the Great War in S3? Possibly.

It's the 3-card Monte. Its the three cowrie shells and a lone caraway seed. It's the Professor's Nightmare, where you don't know how long a piece of string rope is.

It's a f*cking Mobius strip that has no beginning and no end, infinitely going around and around.

It's God's game. Only She knows where it stops.

Further reading in this series:

#2: The Newton/Crowley Mirror-Parallel in S1

#3: "Not Even At Gunpoint!"

[blacknedsoul-blog]

Random Thought of the Day (III)

One interesting thing about Victorian courtship is that, in addition to all the conservative stuff (which has left us with wonderful little gems like the use of the most pompous symbolism to say spicy things through letters or postcards), it was a social activity.

Several of the season's events took place in public places, and those that didn't were designed for groups of people anyway. After the engagement (which lasted between 6 months and 2 fucking years), this did not change much. In short, the desirable thing for this period of time is that the first moment a couple would really have alone, without any interference and completely private, would be… their wedding night (the thing that Annabel and Lenore theoretically didn't have).

This all sounds really weird if you're not into the European Victorian courtship thing. And since it went into serious decline after World War I, after 1930, the whole thing would not only be a culture shock, it would also be an archaic tradition that would be hard to understand.

So I have this absurd image of the Misfits + Prospero and Ada having this long series of awkward situations as the White Raven starts to rebuild their relationship because they really don't understand why every time they interrupt what is supposed to be a date, they seem to insist on including them. You know, shit like "Oh, pet is playing the piano for me, she's really good at it, do you want to sit and listen, love?" or "We're sharing this bottle of wine that was in my suitcase by candlelight, do you want a glass?" While the responses go back and forth from "Uh…thanks, but no thanks" to agreeing to be a third wheel for a prudent amount of time before looking for an excuse to escape.

At least until someone gets tired and they have that whole discussion about how dates has changed in the last 50 years.

[kaigarax]

Purple Hopes

Diez Drake (X-Drake) x Reader

Quote: "Fall in love when you're happy." & "Fall in love when you're confused." & "Fall in love when you're sad."

Memories 15 Years

Diez Drake watches in both horror and confusion as you climb in through the classroom window. You curiously look to either side of the room before smiling brightly and easily making yourself at home when you seem to determine that the room is clear of whatever threat you seem to think might be lurking.

Now he wouldn’t have been as horrified to see someone (much less a girl in a skirt) climb through a window if not for the fact that the classroom happened to be on the third floor of the school.

How had you even managed to get out there in the first place!

Did you get out of another classroom and then climb into this one?

Did you hop down from the roof?

Why were you even climbing into classrooms anyways?! It wasn’t even like classes were in session right now! Save for a few extra tutoring classes - which obviously you weren’t attending right now.

Drake clears his throat, “excuse me, what exactly do you think you’re doing?”

You turn to him with a bright smile that causes his heart to skip a beat, “oh, hi there! You’re Drake, aren’t you? The Student Council President? I don’t think we’ve been acquainted.”

You look familiar but he can’t put a name to the face. At first he thinks that maybe you’re from another school as he can’t seem to recognize your face from any of the classes or clubs he attends. But something does tell him that he knows for sure that you do happen to go to school here. It must be the combination of the uniform and the familiarity you look at him with. Plus the added bonus that you knew how to open the finicky classroom window (from the outside no less!)

There’s no way that you don’t attend school here.

Maybe you’re an underclassmen?

“Yes, I’m the Student Council Pres-” he shakes his head incredulously as the absurdity of the situation suddenly reforms in his mind, “excuse me miss, but that absolutely does not answer my question! What in the world are you doing climbing through a classroom window, much less one on the third floor!”

“Oh,” you smile playfully as you take another step towards him, “you don’t have to call me Miss. We’re the same age.”

What!

Why was that the thing you were focusing on!

Ugh!

Girls could just be so annoying and confusing at times. Drake practically wanted to pull his hair out and scream out in frustration. Not that he would do that in front of you but the idea was quickly weighing on his conscience.

His face was flushed bright red, as it usually did when pretty girls like yourself got… a little to close.

He prays that you don’t notice.

“Anyways-” you take a seat on the desk beside the one he’s working at which does nothing but fluster him more as he pushes his chair back so fast that it almost causes him to fall over. “Woah, hey, are you okay?” You ask, leaning towards him.

Drake turns away from you, “get down.”

“From the desk?”

“Where else?” He asks, trying his best to sound annoyed.

“You gonna give me detention if I don’t, Prez?” You ask teasingly.

Drake rolls his eyes, hoping you don’t notice the flush of his face and ears, “are you always this annoying?”

“Mm,” you tilt your head to the side cutely, “I make a special expectation for folks like you.”

“Of course you do.”

You smile cheekily in response to Drake’s words as you turn to look at the desk beside you which contains the work that Drake had been so diligently working on before you decided to barge into the classroom.

You swing your legs back and forth as you hand off the side of the desk while humming something that is vaguely familiar to Drake. He thinks it’s something that’s been playing on the radio recently? Or maybe it was something that the school band was playing earlier today before classes had begun? Whatever. Where the song comes isn’t all too important anyways.

“What’re you working on right now, Prez?” You ask, picking up one of the sheets of paper beside you that Drake had been working on.

He snatches the sheet from your hand, “that’s none of your business.” He almost feels a little bad when he spots the momentary shock on your face from his sudden harsh actions.

You hold your hands up in mock surrender, “no need to get snippy, Prez. I was just curious. Won’t do it again. Promise.”

Drake sighs, “I’m sorry.”

“Hm?”

“I said sorry! Goodness woman!” Drake’s face flushes bright red and only seems to grow hotter as your soft laughter fills the room.

“No hard feelings,” you hum playfully, “I was looking at your stuff without permission anyways.”

“Ugh,” Drake groans, “it’s just that I got a little startled.”

“It happens to the best of us.”

“Please don’t tell anyone about that.”

“Your secret is safe with me, Prez. Cross my heart.” You drew an imaginary ‘X’ over your chest in an effort to further demonstrate your dedication to secrecy.

“Good. Because I don't want to have to give you detention.”

“Oh?” Your eyes fill with amusement, “you’d give me detention if I told people that I saw you lose your temper?”

“I-” he groans again, “goodness woman. You’ll be the death of me.”

“Woman?”

“That’s… that’s what you are isn’t it? I just assumed since you’re wearing the girl uniform and-”

“I am,” you lean in towards him again, your hands between your legs and on the edge of the desk to keep yourself from falling off, “you don’t know my name, do you?”

If possible, his face heats up even more, “no I-”

“Then what’s my name, Prez?”

Dhanivi, he immediately thinks. Oh no wait, that was the character from the book he was reading in literature studies. Um… maybe it was Jannet or was it something more fun sounding like Haruka? Anika maybe?

Oh, who was he kidding.

He had no idea what your name was and would only make a bigger fool of himself trying to guess it.

Finally, he shakes his head, admitting defeat, “no. I do not know your name.”

“I appreciate the honesty, Drake.” You tease, dragging out the syllables of his name.

He hastily gathers the sheets of paper that are laying beside you. If you had come earlier he wouldn’t have cared if you had seen what he was working on. It was mostly just paper work for the student council that had to deal with the year end field trip for the seniors. But when you had entered the classroom Drake had been in the middle of writing a journal entry.

His friends sometimes called it his diary but diaries were for young kids! He was basically an adult and was journaling out his stresses. Okay, maybe that was a little bit of what a diary was. But this most certainly wasn’t a diary.

It was… just something that contained a lot of his personal thoughts and frustrations. Sometimes he’d let his friends read it but he certainly wasn’t comfortable with some random stranger (much less a pretty girl like you) to just stumble upon them and start reading it. He had an image of himself to uphold as the Student Council President, afterall.

Drake clears his throat, “so are you going to tell me your name?”

“I might.”

Drake frowns, “well it would be the polite thing to do. To tell someone your name when they don’t know what it is.”

“It is the polite thing to do,” you nod.

“So…”

“So?”

“So are you going to tell me or not?” Drake asked.

“Where would be the fun in that?”

Ugh! This is why Drake wasn’t friends with girls. They were coy and annoying. Always liked to have the upper hand in an argument like this one. Never satisfied with letting someone else lead the conversation.

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re annoying?” Drake asked.

“Just you, I’m afraid, Prez.”

Drake rolls his eyes in response, “of course.”

“But that’s okay,” you lean back, placing your hands behind you as you look up at the ceiling. For some strange and bizarre reason, Drake finds that you look especially pretty like this. That your eyes have this certain kinda sparkle that he rarely sees in his peers - especially during this time of year. And you’re smiling in such an unabashed and warm kinda way that makes Drake also want to smile.

Well he would smile if he wasn’t stuck frozen staring at you.

Usually he does his best to only look at people respectfully. Even averts his gaze when girls (and guys) show more skin than necessary. Never makes comments about people’s appearances and does his best to steer his thoughts away from making lewd and provocative comments. But right now, no matter how hard he tries, he just can’t seem to tear his gaze away from you.

So instead, he allows himself to lean forward towards you in hopes of getting a better look at your features. See if he can find the thing that makes him strangely so drawn to you. Find the flame to the moth that he has seemingly become.

He notices that you have a silver bracelet around your wrist as you bring your left hand up to push back a stray strand of hair behind your ear. It’s a pretty bracelet that reminds him a little of a charm bracelet. It’s cute just like you.

“Really?” Drake raises a brow, “it’s okay that I called you annoying?”

You nod, humming gently to yourself again.

“And why is that okay?”

“It’s okay because I like you.”

He blushes brightly, “you do?”

“Sure, I mean you totally could have given me detention when you saw me come in through the window,” you explain, “or you could have pretended to know who I was earlier but you were candid about not knowing my name. Plus, you’re easy to talk to, even if you do think I’m annoying.”

“You are.”

You grin, “so are you.”

“Then why do you like me?”

“Perhaps I just like annoying people.” You jump down from the desk and dust your skirt off looking around the classroom just as you had done earlier before. You smile as your eyes land on the clock in the front of the classroom.

“What were you doing earlier?”

You turn back to look at him, “earlier?”

“When you climbed in through the window?”

“Oh, I’m playing a game of hide and seek with a few of the other students. We had started on the roof and made a rule of not using doors.” You smile playfully, “so obviously I thought to move just out of sight before hopping the fence and climbing down and into one of the classrooms.”

“Ah yes…” Drake nods along, finding your train of thought as amusing as it is stupid, “the obvious choice.”

You wink playfully, “exactly.”

Drake may never admit it aloud, but he thinks that maybe -just maybe- he might like annoying people too. Or at least he likes you, who he thinks is annoying.

“Well, since it’s been 10 minutes I guess I’ve gotta make my way back to the roof and declare myself the winner before everyone starts thinking I jumped off the roof.” You give Drake a little wave before exiting out the front door of the classroom.

“Hey wait! What’s your name?” Drake shouts, calling out after you.

You turn back and smile a smile that sends Drake’s heart into a tizzy of flutters, “don’t worry Prez, you’re smart~ You’ll figure it out eventually.”

“You still owe me that favour!”

“You can cash it in when you figure out my name, Prez.” You shout as you disappear down the school hallway.

It isn’t until two weeks after that Drake finally figures out your name.

He never ends up cashing in that favour.

Fall in love when you’re happy.

---

Someone You Loved Featuring: The Architect

“Late again, Obito.” Diez Drake teases as he spots the dark haired man.

Uchiha Obito makes his way to where Drake and the others (Tokito Muichiro and yourself) are sitting, out of breath. Drake notes that his short hair is windswept and messy as you bring your hand up to fluff it. You were the first one to approach him, placing your drink at the edge of the table. Obito’s cheeks are also slightly flushed red (though whether that’s from being outside or from you is still yet to be determined) as he apologies, “sorry. An old man dropped his wallet down a storm drain and… well I couldn’t just leave him there to suffer alone.”

You laugh “sounds just like you.”

Drake hums in agreement, “when (Y/n) first told me that you were always late to everything I didn’t believe her. But this is what, like the tenth time now? At this point I think you’re just allergic to being on time.”

“What!” Obito blushes brightly, “I’ve been… on time… a few times.”

Muichiro, the quieter one of the group, laughs as he moves the cup you’ve been drinking out of further back from the edge of the table, “when?”

Drake nods in agreement, chuckling teasingly at Obito’s reaction, “yeah, Obito. Can you name any specific occasion?”

“Um…” Obito scratches the back of his neck sheepishly, “the last time when we met?”

“You sure?” Muichiro asked, the ghost of a smile playing on the corners of lips as places his hand on your back to keep you from bumping into the table.

“Come on guys,” you say, wrapping your arms around Drake and Muichiro, “don’t tease Obito too much. I find it endearing.”

Obito pokes your cheek, “as if you don’t tease me every chance you get.”

“Hey! I’m defending you right now!” You pout cutely, “the least you can do is thank me.”

“Oh,” Obito grins playfully, “I should thank you now, should I?”

“You should!”

“And how would you like me to thank you, (Y/n)?” Obito asks, his eyes softening as he says your name.

“Come early next time we meet up.” Your eyes are bright as you make the request to Obito, almost sparkling.

Drake has always known that you were close to Obito but always finds himself surprised at the way you two treat one another. Despite the fact that the four of you had hung out on multiple occasions Drake still always finds himself surprised at how gently Obito can look at you or how your own eyes seem to brighten when he comes.

Honestly, he’s more than a little envious.

“Okay,” Obito finally says, his voice soft, “I will.”

“So,” Muichiro hums, his soft voice causing the three of you to lean in, “have either of you guys gone ice fishing?”

Drake smiles politely, “not yet.”

Now, truth be told, Drake knew next to nothing about fishing. He’d gone a few times when he was young with his foster parents but they had only gone once after Drake had tipped into the water and ended up soaked.

During their first meeting one of them (Drake can’t remember who) brought up fishing and it’s been a recurring conversation topic ever since. He just hoped that neither Muichiro or Obito would catch onto the fact that he’s been faking his knowledge and liking of the topic. Luckily, despite all the time that they’ve hung out, they’re yet to plan a fishing trip which has saved Drake from what would certainly end up being an awkward conversation or two.

Obito and Muichiro mostly carry the conversation about fishing and Drake is grateful. He hopes that they don’t notice his lack of involvement and enthusiasm in the conversation.

Your eyes meet with Drake’s and for a moment he thinks that the ruse is up. Luckily, you only smile playfully in response.

His treacherous heart flutters in response.

Sometimes, Drake thinks that you know him better than he knows himself.

“Congratulations on having your last showcase of the year, (Y/n).” Drake says when the conversation about fishing finally dies down.

You smile, “thank you!”

“It’s been such a busy year for you,” Obito says, “so are you thinking of taking a break? This is the most you’ve ever released in a short timespan, isn't it?”

“It is,” you nod, “the company has been pushing me to release more of the Muse albums because of their popularity.”

Muichiro pats your shoulder reassuringly, “don’t force yourself.”

You nudge him back playfully, “oh, you don’t have to worry about me. The only reason I released so many in a short timespan is because I had such amazing Muses work with.”

The three men turn away from you, their cheeks flushed red.

Drake wonders if you do this on purpose sometimes. If you truly don’t understand the effect you seemingly have on everyone else. He thinks that you must know. That you purposely present yourself in such a way because you like leaving impressions on people. That you like watching the blood rush to people’s faces when you say something that you know will make them blush with such a straight face.

“You know,” Obito smiles in a playful sorta way, “you take pictures all the time, (Y/n), but I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone take a picture of you.”

“True,” Muichiro nods slowly in response.

Drake hums in agreement, “all this time, you’ve been hiding behind the lens.”

You blush brightly, “oh really? I haven’t noticed.”

Drake raises a brow, smirking slightly, “you haven’t noticed, have you?”

“Yep,” your eyes start to wander the room, “haven’t noticed. Not. At. All.”

“Playing coy?” Muichiro teases, leaning over and pushing your cup towards you.

You place the polaroid camera that you’d been holding onto on the table and accept the cup, taking a long drink in an attempt to avoid the gazes of the three men. Drake finds your reaction cute, though admittedly he finds most of your reactions cute.

Obito takes the polaroid camera from the table quickly after you place it down and holds it over your head, chuckling softly as you try to grab it from him. While you’re busy trying to get the polaroid camera back from Obito, Muichiro takes the opportunity to steal your phone from your pocket. He easily flips the phone over as he opens the camera.

Drake laughs softly as you immediately turn to Muichiro, a pout on your lips, “come on guys! This isn’t funny. Give it back!”

“Let us take a picture of you first and then we’ll let you have it back.” Drake explained, smirking as you turned to look at him.

“I don’t like having my photo taken.”

Muichiro watches you, a thoughtful look in his eyes, “why not?”

You blush, “because I don’t think I look very good on the other side of the lens.”

“You do,” Obito says suddenly, his cheeks flushed the lightest shade of pink, “you’re pretty you know.”

Muichiro nods along.

“He’s right, (Y/n),” Drake hums softly as he reassuringly pats you on the back, “you’re pretty both behind and infront of the lens.” You turn to him, a retort on the tip of your tongue that is quickly swallowed as Drake takes your hand in his own and smiles, “so let us take just one photo of you, okay?”

Briefly, Drake wonders if you can feel the difference in heat between your bodies. Drake’s own is burning hot. It feels as though his body has become a furnace of heat that does nothing but make his embarrassment obvious to everyone else in this world except for perhaps you. Or if you do notice it you never make an attempt to say anything about it or point it out.

“Ugh!” You groan but Drake can see the smile behind your eyes, “fine. Just one photo.”

“One photo each?” Obito asks, a bashful smile playing on his lips.

“No.”

Drake chimes in, his own smile turning into a coy one, “but (Y/n)! Don’t you think that we at least deserve one photo each for all the long photoshoots we had to sit through for weeks on end?’

You pout, “it wasn’t weeks on end.”

“Felt like it.” Muichiro chimed in.

“Fine.” You sigh deeply as you take a step back away from the three of them and straighten out your clothes, “one photo each. And then not another peep - got it?”

The three of them share a look between one another before laughing.

Drake salutes playfully, “yes ma’am.”

You make your way to an empty space in front of the plain white wall of the bar. There’s a stain of some sort behind where you’ve chosen to stand but Drake doesn’t point it out. He imagines that you’d take the stain as an excuse to postpone the taking of the photo if not use it to escape the taking of a photo entirely. Besides, in Drake’s most humble opinion, it looks better with the stain there. It makes the moment feel more genuine.

More real.

More open.

More.

Obito’s the first to walk towards you before getting down on his knees (as you sometimes did when taking photos) as he attempts to snap a picture of you. You smile fondly as you watch Obito attempt to recreate some of your techniques before he finally seems satisfied. Obito looks through the lens of the camera for a moment before looking back up at you and then at the camera again before finally snapping his photo.

The polaroid camera buzzes as the photo quickly prints out.

Drake’s always liked the polaroid camera the most. Sure, sometimes the photos come out a little wonky but the fact that there’s only one chance to get the perfect shot and that there’s only one photo that comes out has always made the moment seem more genuine. Not some artificially crafted moment.

A single chance to get everything right. A single moment in time, from a single perspective, frozen forever behind the film of the polaroid photo.

Muichiro steps up next, choosing to come up closer to you. He’s slow and precise in his movements as he gently positions you into the perfect position (as you usually did) before he takes another step back. Muichiro brings a hand to his chin, humming briefly to himself before finally pulling your phone out.

The phone buzzes briefly indicating that a burst of photos was taken.

Drake watches in amusement as your expression shifts from one of entertainment to surprise and then eventually into one of annoyance as you jump towards Muichiro with an exclamation of his name.

Muichiro’s expression remains neutral but his eyes have a playful sort of gleam in them.

A gleam that Drakes notes that you clearly don’t miss.

“I thought you said that you were only going to take one photo!” You say as Muichiro hands the phone back to you.

The corners of Muichiro’s lips turn up in a smile, “pick the one you like the most. Delete the rest.”

Your cheeks flush red, “fine.”

Obito wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you close, “you know, I believe you promised one more photo, (Y/n).”

You sigh, reaching into your pocket and pull out a small mini digital camera and hand it over to Drake. He laughs in response. He should have realised that you, of all people, would carry around more than one camera at a time. You’ve always loved taking photos and could go on for days about the different kinds of photos you got from using different kinds of cameras.

The mini digital camera you hand to Drake is cute, small and compact. A sleek black shape and a silver lens that expands out as Drake turns it on. There’s four small buttons on the side and a silver button at the top.

Drake plays around with the different buttons for awhile trying to find the perfect setting to capture you. You settle yourself into position as Muichiro and Obito make their way back to the table they had been sitting at earlier. While Muichiro had chosen to take multiple photos of you while your expression changed and Obito had taken a full body one Drake thinks that he should do a headshot. Something a little simpler that captures you the way he sees you.

“Nervous?” You tease.

Drake laughs softly, his ears flushed red, “a little.”

“Don’t worry,” you say, “no one will know that it was you if it’s a bad picture.”

“I don’t want you to look bad in a picture.”

Your face blushes bright red in response to Drake’s words and your face morphs into one of those hesitant smiles. It’s one of those smiles that you try to suppress because the other person said something stupid but you can’t help but smile.

Drake smiles as he quickly snaps the photo. This is how he sees you. How he wants everyone else to see you. How the world deserves to see you.

Fall in love when you’re confused.

---

Purple Hopes

I hope that I can one day find someone that loves me back. But even more so,

I hope to find someone that I love so much that it doesn't matter if they don’t.

---

Light streams in through the curtains of the bedroom window as Diez Drake stirs in bed.

He’s a little sore from the way he’d been sleeping last night and one of his arms is numb and a little cold to the touch but he finds he doesn’t mind all too much.

His eyes flutter open and it takes him a few moments to adjust as he yawns.

The first thing that comes to Drake’s mind is that he’s not in his room. The mattress is more soft than it is firm and the pillow beneath his head is fluffy and new rather than the flat as plate one he’s been dedicated to for years. Then there’s the colour of the walls. Instead of the dark purple he’s accustomed to, his eyes meet with a pale grey; the light streaming in from the right side of the room instead of the left.

The second thing that Drake spots is you. Your hair spread around your face and your body comfortably curled up against his. He thinks that it’s likely the prettiest sight he’s ever had the privilege of waking up to. Finds it cute how you drool slightly from the corner of your mouth and hold your hands close to your chest.

He shifts ever so slightly closer to you, scared to wake you up but wanting to feel your warmth.

The blanket shared between the two of you is mostly draped over your form, wrapped around your one side and held tightly in the other. Drake chuckles slightly to himself at the sight.

Reaching over, he gently moves the hair out of your face, making sure his fingers graze over your skin gently.

You really are the prettiest girl he’s ever had the privilege of knowing. From the arch of your eyebrows to the shape of your eyes. The subtle twitch of your lips when you smile and the curve of your bridge and nose. Your baby hairs stick to your forehead and when Drake goes to move them he’s met with the fluttering of your eyes as you begin to wake up.

You stretch your arms out, not realizing how close you are to Drake and accidentally end up punching him slightly in the face.

“Oh my goodness,” you exclaim, sitting up, “are you okay?”

Drake brings a hand to his face and tries his best to give you a reassuring smile, “I’m okay. Don’t worry.”

“I’m so sorry!”

“It’s my bad.”

You turn to Drake and gently push his hair out of his face, “it’s not.”

Drake’s face flushes brightly in response. He has to turn away in embarrassment, unable to meet your concerned gaze. No matter how many times Drake feels your gentle touch he can never quite get used to it. Always surprised at how soft you are or how gently your fingers are as they brush over his skin, almost as if you’re afraid of breaking him.

You won’t, of course.

Drake is a large and well built man who could likely take you out with a single arm. People usually don’t hold back when it comes to shaking his hand or giving him a pat on the back. But you are always so gentle and soft.

He wonders if you’re like that with everyone. So delicate with your touches.

So brief and ever so fleeting.

Your touch sends tingles through his skin, almost like sparks of fire beneath his skin waiting to be ignited. He leans into the warmth of your hand while silently hoping you don’t point out the flush on his cheeks. He doesn’t think he’ll be able to handle much more if you decide to tease him. Especially so early in the morning.

He closes his eyes and inhales deeply.

“Did you sleep okay?” You ask.

“Mhm,” Drake hums softly, “did you?”

“There was this big lump of muscle that was clinging to me all night, but other than that my sleep was great.”

Drake blushes, “sorry.”

You chuckle as you press a kiss to his forehead, “don’t be. It’s endearing.”

If possible his blush deepens and he feels as though his face is on fire. He’d always known that you could be sweet but this level is too much for him to handle. It’s sweet and soft in a way you usually aren’t. Not that you aren’t a gentle person but this specific kind of behaviour from you feels almost foreign to him.

No doubt, it was this kind of behaviour that allowed you to capture the hearts of so many before him.

You roll closer to him and bury your face in his chest.

And no doubt, it’s this behaviour that’s going to be the death of him.

Drake grumbles, “(Y/n).”

“Hm?”

“Don’t do that.”

You yawn, “don’t do what?”

Drake pouts, “you know what.”

“You’re gonna have to use your words. I can’t stop something if I don’t know what it is that I should be stopping,” you chuckle, “I’m not a mind reader, you know.”

Drake groans in response, covering his face with his hands, “please.”

“Please what?”

He can’t bring himself to ask you to stop, enjoying your warmth too much. So instead he turns his head to the side and buries it in the pillow and groans into it for what feels like the tenth time this very morning.

You giggle in response as you absentmindedly begin to trace shapes along his chest.

Drake finds himself regretting not putting a shirt back on last night. He doubts he’ll be able to get out of bed today with you treating him like this. He’s always had a weak spot for pretty girls like you but you specifically seem to have a knack for getting him worked up like this. The last time he had been this close with someone else he was still a rather young and green boy. Back then he had thought that girl would have been the one. It was unfortunate that life had had different plans for him.

Briefly, Drake finds himself wondering how many other people have woken up with you like this. How many other people had spent their nights tangled up in your bed sheets. How many other people you held so close and touched so gently as you did to him now.

He thinks a few. There’s a certain practiced ease to your movements which makes the movements feel familiar as they come from you. But just even then it could also be because of your personality or because you’re comfortable with him. He certainly prefers the latter of the two options but admits that the former is more likely. Drake, admittedly, knows that you’ve certainly lived your life surrounded by brilliant people. People that are far more brilliant than him. So he wouldn’t be surprised.

Shouldn’t be surprised.

Shouldn’t be upset.

But he is. Gets that green eyed monster gnawing at his chest whenever he thinks of someone else seeing you this way.

Now, Drake has never really considered himself someone that… got around but he had had his fair share of people that he had taken to bed. Really, it only makes him feel worse about how he’s feeling right now. Burying his face in your hair and inhaling deeply helps to push that dread in his chest down.

“You okay?” You ask gently.

Drake wraps his arms around you and pulls you close, “mhm.”

“You sure?”

“I am.”

“That’s good,” you hum softly, pushing yourself up slightly only to be pulled back into Drake’s chest. “Drake!” You exclaim.

He chuckles, “what?”

“We have to get up.”

“Why?”

“Because we have plans that we need to get to.”

Drake sighs, “can’t we just skip them.”

“And what would you have us do?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” He asks, running his fingers through your hair and pushing it back behind your ears so that he can get a better look at your face, “we’ll just stay in bed for the rest of the day and let everything else fall to ruin. I mean, who has to work on the weekend?”

You poke his cheek, “as tempting as that sounds, I have to attend a meeting with my manager.”

“Lame.”

You move from his cheek to his side, “you’re lame.”

He laughs, grabbing your one hand while his other moves to your side as he tickles you back. You squirm in his grasp and let out airy laughs. Personally, Drake thinks you look best like this; with your head thrown back in laughter and your eyes sparkling in entertainment.

In an attempt to escape his tickles you push yourself to the side but underestimate how much space there had actually been on that side of the bed and end up falling off with a ‘thump’.

Because of Drake’s grip around your wrist, and his determination to not let you go, he too is accidentally thrown off balance coming tumbling off the bed after you. In an attempt to not crush you beneath his weight he holds his arms out to either side of you which causes a good amount of force to land on his arms. At least his torso is alright, cushioned by your own.

Drake’s cheeks are flushed bright red as he looks down at you.

“Are you okay?” You ask while slightly out of breath and still reeling back from the initial shock of the fall.

You’re pretty from this angle. Your cheeks flushed and your hair tousled in every direction. Drake has to shake his head and scold himself for thinking such things while in such a position.

“Y-yeah,” Drake manages, “I think I’m okay.”

His treacherous heart soares. Despite the pain that you’re definitely in, your initial thought was to make sure that he was okay first. He can’t remember the last time that someone other than his guardian had cared about him in such a way. His insides feel all mushy and he isn’t sure if it’s because of the fall messing up his insides or the way you’re looking up at him.

“Are you okay?” Drake asked.

You do your best to smile, “as okay as someone can be after falling off the bed.”

“Oh my! Do you need to go to the doctor? The hospital? Because I can definitely take you right now! You didn’t break anything did you? Did I land on you too roughly?” Drake fretts, “I promise I won’t let this happen again!”

You laugh softly and let your head fall to the ground.

Your laughter causes Drake to pout, “what? Is my concern that funny?”

“It’s cute,” you smile, “you’re cute.”

Drake smiles softly in response, pushing your hair back and out of your face. He leans down slightly.

It sucks that the moment is broken by the loud ringing of your phone. Pulling the two of you from the moment and seemingly back onto the cold floor of your bedroom. Drake is quick to get off of you and you’re quick to follow as you scramble to pick up your phone.

“Hello?”

Drake finds refuge back on the bed, taking a seat on the edge, watching as you scramble around the room to pick up loose clothes from last night. You toss the clothes you find on the floor into the laundry basket before making your way to your drawer to pick your outfit for the day all while nodding and humming in response to whatever the person on the other end of the phone is saying.

He finds himself smiling softly as he watches you get dressed for the day. He bets that all your mornings are a little like this. That you spend them in a haze of excitement and entertainment as you get ready for what you’re doing to do next.

Honestly, Drake’s a little jealous. Most of his own mornings are mundane and slow to start. Sure, there are the days where he wakes up late and has to rush to pick everything up but even those seem only half as entertaining as the one that he’s shared with you today. Though, that might have to do with the fact that he got to spend a good portion of the morning teasing you.

He hopes that he isn’t coming off as clingy.

Ugh.

And just when things were going well his thoughts decided to take a turn for the worst as they usually do.

His heart flutters in that annoying way as you make your way to the kitchen and start boiling a pot of hot water. You grab two cups from the countertop as you continue on with the conversation you’re having over the phone.

Drake’s had a broken heart before, but he feels as though this might be his worst yet. Especially if you keep doing little things like this that you think don’t hold any meaning. Try as he might (which truthfully isn’t that hard) he’s falling.

And he’s falling hard.

Fall in love when you’re sad.

[fallingblueroses]

Something completely unrelated to anything but it's been a bad couple of days and I needed something to laugh at.

Starts out with Kathy coming home after taking William from school and going shopping.

I have no idea of Geoff's preferences on milk.

***

Kathy was unbagging groceries in the kitchen when Geoff came up behind her. "Hey beautiful."

She smiled without turning around. "Hi. How's work going?"

"It's going." He put his hands on her shoulders and began to rub little circles on her neck with his thumbs. "How was shopping?"

She sighed and leaned forward a little. "They were all out of almond milk."

"Two percent will do."

She blinked. "Really? You hate two percent."

"I have other things to think about." He gently turned her around. "Like the pretty little woman in front of me." He kissed her forehead.

Oh, he's in a mood. "I have to finish putting the groceries away."

"Later." He lifted her up to sit on the counter and kissed her lips.

She sighed and kissed him back. "All right. But don't complain when the butter melts." She put her arms around his neck as they kissed back and forth. After a few kisses his hands gently held her waist and pulled her closer--

"Hey. HEY!" Kathy jumped at the new voice, and her mouth dropped to see a second Geoff walking in. He pointed at the first Geoff with each word. "No. Wrong. Error."

The Geoff holding Kathy scowled. "What do you mean, 'error'? She's my wife!"

"She's as much my wife as she is yours!And we have to eat food prepared on that counter and I don't want to have to sanitize everything again! Take it to the bedroom."

"I can't. Goff's taking a shower in the ensuite."

The second Geoff rolled his eyes. "Then use the living room couch."

"Jeff's on the couch."

A third Geoff's voice yelled from the living room. "And I'm trying to sleep!"

The second Geoff threw his arms out. "It's the middle of the morning!"

Kathy nearly passed out when she saw the third Geoff walk into the kitchen. "And we were up half the night because you wouldn't stop working, Jeoph. It's no wonder our host is starting to burn out."

Jeoph put his hands on his hips and glared at Jeff. "Someone has to. Or are you forgetting how Kathy gets the money to go shopping?"

Jeff opened his mouth, but then Goff walked in wearing nothing but a towel. "Ah, that was invigorating! Nothing like an ice cold shower after a five mile run." He ignored the others as he walked up and kissed Kathy on the cheek. "Hi Kath. Did you get the almond milk?"

"...They were out." Kathy wasn't sure whether to laugh or scream.

"Oh well." Goff walked to the refrigerator. "Banana and kale smoothie it is then." Daryl gagged at that.

Kathy hopped off the counter and walked a few paces away from the group. "...Where's Geoff? The original Geoff?"

"In the studio," the four men replied in unison.

"Right. Thanks." She quickly walked to Geoff's studio as the four kept arguing behind her. When she got there, Geoff was sitting on the floor with a dazed expression on his face. "...Geoff? Are you okay?"

He looked up at her and an almost childlike smile came over his face, but he didn't say anything. Kathy stared at him, unsure of what to do, for several seconds. The sound of the juicer and the four clones arguing came from the kitchen.

Her phone rang, and she saw it was Eli. "Hello?"

"Hi Kathy. Everything okay over there? The four of us were supposed to have a video call and Geoff hasn't joined. He's not answering his phone."

She began to laugh hysterically as the absurdity of the situation set in. "You want to talk to Geoff? Come on over and pick one!"

[some-stars]

i have my askbox closed rn bc of the scam spam so @petralemaitre sent me this meme directly:

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers! Spread the self-love 💞

i have 62 to choose from but honestly i already know what my favorite 2 things i've ever written are so this will be fairly quick.

A quite unlosable game (dark angel, alec/max, alec/various): this is it! this is the favorite! it's my most beloved show of all time and i had Things to Say and it took me ten years (off and on) but i did say them! very well! i started it in 2008 so my memories are vague but i wrote it pretty much in order--the first idea i had was the almost-pubescent X5s being lectured on how their hormones were going to be manipulated. it was a science fiction story for me, before anything else, because it's a science fiction show that didn't get a chance to explore SO much of the juiciest most interesting concepts it put forth. and it was also me thinking about how the show at first fumbled, then did SO right by the eye-rollable "max goes into heat" concept. like when it comes up in the second episode it's treated completely as a joke, but when it happens again at the end of the first season--when we've bought in to the basic premise and established trust--it's treated as the terrible, sad violation that it is. so i thought, well, how could i pursue that thread further? and. so. yeah. love this story forever, best thing i ever wrote, does exactly what i wanted it to do and does it almost perfectly.

The absolute absurdity of end-series items (house of leaves): my other favorite thing i've ever written! i don't think this is quite as perfectly executed, but it's pretty close, and certainly no one else has done it better so that makes it successful by default. house of leaves is one of my favorite books of all time and i have SO many thoughts about it and all the things that it DOES. some of which the culture at large has acknowledged and much of which i've never seen anyone else talk about, the latter specifically being how rich and welcoming it is to feminist interpretations. which i could never manage to write the essay about that i wanted to, but it's all just in this fic instead.

children's work (the witcher, geraskefer): gonna cheat and put the whole series. it's kind of hard for me to love this one because i can see ALL the seams, especially in the second and third stories where i was trying so many new things as a writer and flailing around so much. but taken as a whole it's the longest single work i've ever created, and the response to it utterly blew me away. people loved this series, so so so much, it's been four years and i kind of still can't process it. this is the story that i think about when i feel like i've never had any kind of effect on the world and nothing i've ever done mattered to anyone. because this series made a lot of people very happy, and that's nice. (also i LOVE when i can come into a fandom and write something that nobody's done before. it boosts my ego like crazy. not that the concept of the fic itself is original--i lifted a LOT of the emotional beats from an extremely good SPN fic i read way back in the day--but no one had done a serious take on it in witcher fandom yet.)

felt it in my fists (teen wolf, allison/lydia): i was Deep into this show for like half of one summer, but i hated (and continue to hate) sterek so there was not a lot on offer for me. but there was femslash! idk, i just really like this story and it's special to me for reasons i can't really identify.

put on the red light (deadpool & wolverine): i don't necessarily like this MORE than my other fics in the fandom but i do feel like it's different and therefore special. it's very rare for me to write explicit high-key emotional conflict and fighting, bc it tends to give me bad anxiety, but MAN i loved writing the big screaming fight in this one. they both fully believe they're breaking up because the other one betrayed them in the most painful way imaginable, and it's awful, and i love it.

im not gonna send the meme to anyone else but if you are reading this please consider yourself tagged!