#but then he gets too drunk and forgets it

[leaawrites]

Dial Drunk

Lando Norris x fem!reader

Summary: in which, Lando is young, drunk and in love.

Warnings: police, driving under influence, mentions of alcohol, mentions of a breakup, bad dialogue (this one is old)

Wordcount: 1.8k

Masterlist

He’d seen the blue and red colour in his rear view mirror long before he could even register that he was sat in his car, neither where he was driving. His head felt dull, filled with too many thoughts of things he swore to forget. Things he swore wouldn’t matter anymore because they shouldn’t. One of them being her.

She was in all of them actually, whether she played the main character or was just a side thought, but she was always there. In the back of his mind, where he still heard her voice talk to him in such a soft tone like no one would ever be able to do, she was still taking his hands and making him dance with her through his living room. Even against every complaint from his side, she wouldn’t let him sit down again. Instead they were swaying to the rock song that played next.

Now, he was looking at the officer standing next to his car, a disappointment look in both their eyes and a sense of the other in their mind. They were in the middle of nowhere. Lando on his way to her. The man on his way back to his work, probably to link out for tonight and go back home. A place where Lando should be too.

“What have we been up to tonight, sir?” He asked, looking down at the bruised knuckles that still held onto the steering wheel like he was afraid of letting go and having nothing to steady himself on.

Lando wasn’t too sure how to answer. He wasn’t too sure about what he was up to that night himself. A couple drinks in a club, which Max urged him to go to, in order to ‘free him from his bed and sulking’. After the shots, there were some girls. Interesting enough to dance with but he knew that they wouldn’t come home with him, he was sure they knew that too. They knew who he was. And then - a guy he wouldn’t call a stranger, neither a friend, simply some guy he knew - said something about her. About them.

His voice dripped with alcohol, his words intoxicated by the shots they took together. Lando shouldn’t have taken them the way he did, he knew that now, but it felt right in the moment. His fist in the other guy’s face, he just wanted him to stop talking. Unsure if he would’ve made him quiet forever, Max pulled him away quicker than Lando could think about his actions. Then he went away; out into the cold and into his car to tell her about the bad he’d done for her.

“Not a lot,” Lando answered, looking down guilty. Both of them knew that Lando wasn’t sober, they also knew that he wouldn’t get away from this unharmed.

“May you blow into this?”

He did, and when the officer raised his eyebrows at the result of the alcohol test, Lando knew he was fucked.

“Is there anyone you can call to pick you up?” The officer asked, dialling a number of his own on his phone already, not looking up at Lando once while talking to him. It was kind of rude, Lando believed, to ignore someone while you were talking to them. “Any emergency contacts?”

At no response, the man held out his hand for Lando to place his phone in it. Going to the emergency contacts himself, there was only one. Y/n. Simple. No heart behind her name anymore, no silly nickname, but her face was still beside it. Dialling the number it rang and rang. Lando could hear the endless sound from his place in the car, it dragged on for a while before, in the end, she hung up.

“Your only emergency contacts and they don’t even want to speak to you, not very helpful,” he commented, handing Lando his phone back. The screen lighting up at the interaction. Her face still smiling at him, he hadn’t had the heart to make her disappear completely from everywhere he knew her from. Some part of her was still with him and he couldn’t just throw it away.

“Can I drive you somewhere, sir?”

The outline of her building was in his sight sooner than he’d like it to be, the speech he’d rehearsed ever since they called it quits was now somewhere still in his car, left together with the jacket of his she loved to wear.

“You alright, kid?” The officer - Jeff - asked, knowing too well what he was going through. Anyone willing to look at him could see it in the once white, now red of his eye. It was visible in his pulled down lip corners and the void of nothing in his eyes. Feeling nothing was worse than feeling the pain, they concluded together in silence on their drive to the address Lando gave him.

‘I have a kid of my own, you know, son? He’s been in love with this boy for years now, too afraid of what would happen to him if he stated the truth, what the people would think of him. But, in the end, I told him, that love couldn’t be stopped, no matter what other people thought about it. Whether it was wrong or right in their eyes, it will always matter how it feels to you. If it’s hurting, change it. If it makes you happy, try everything to make it stay that way.’

“Thanks,” Lando muttered, a soft, still forced smile creeping on his lips now that he was there. The place he went to in his dreams as the dream she always believed he was. The dream boy she saw in him. Her dream boy.

“Good luck.”

The doorbell seemed too loud for the quiet night now, as he looked at it. The metal of it seeming too heavy for him to be able to push it down and make himself known. He couldn’t throw pebbles at her window, he wasn’t even too sure if he could even remember which window was hers.

But her name called out for him to say it once more, no matter the outcome. He just had to try it one more time.

Pushing the circle in the middle of the medal, next to her name, he could hear it echo in his mind. The sound too familiar now that he was stood here again. How many times had he been on the receiving end because he went to her apartment unannounced, without her there, and answering the door for postmen or neighbours? Too many too count, he concluded in the same moment as he heard her voice through the stereo.

“Hello?” Her voice sounded sleepy, like she’d only woken up from the sound.

All of a sudden, Lando felt flustered. Ashamed for thinking she’d just forgive him on the spot because he told her, that he loved her. It wasn’t as easy as that and that thought only crept up on him now: she had every right to deny him. But what then? What would he do? Where would he go? He couldn’t call Max, disturbing his night out because he wasn’t the man she wanted anymore. He had no one else here. His parents were too far away and everyone else he knew was either in Monaco or somewhere else in the world, just not London.

“Hello?” She voiced again, more rage filling her voice this time. “I swear if this is some stupid joke, just let it be-”

“It’s me.” Maybe he was the joke. Maybe he should just let it be.

The simple sound of his voice made her go quiet, but she didn’t hang up, she was still there, her breathing was heard when listened to closely enough.

“Can we talk?”

She let him in. The harsh buzz of the door taking him by surprise at first, before he quickly pushed it open and made his way into the hallway, up the stairs until he stood in front of her door. It was open, open for him to enter. Lando stayed still for a second longer than normally someone would, before he pushed it open to reveal the apartment behind the walls. It still looked the same, she had less pictures - theirs gone from their place - but other than that it was all the same as when he left.

Y/n was sat on the sofa, knees pulled up close to her chest and her eyes were fixated on the floor in front of her. The far left of the cushion still empty, waiting for him. Slowly, Lando made his way towards it, sitting down and taking off his head like it was disrespectful if he didn’t do it.

“You wanted to talk?” Her voice almost sounded sarcastic, like she couldn’t believe those words actually left his mouth. Him, the man who left without a second word beside: This is something I have to do alone; before walking out the door for what she believed to be forever now wanted to talk all of a sudden.

“I was dumb,” he started, the words coming out faster than he could process them. The alcohol taking off the nerves and adding the free mind he needed. “I wasn’t truthful and I was stupid and an complete wanker. I wanted you beside me, I also will and want and have. I want to love you and I know I screwed up but please, please give me another chance. Please, Y/n. Monaco, it’s so quiet without you. My whole life is too quiet now that you aren’t there. You and your laugh and talks about whatever it is that’s been on your mind lately. I miss it all.

“I miss you.”

She would lie if she said she didn’t feel the same, the city felt too big now that she had spent more time alone in it. But she would lie if she said that she was ready to forgive him.

“You hurt me. You really did.”

“I know.”

“You made me feel unwanted, like a burden almost.”

“You could never be a burden to me.”

“Didn’t sound like it back then.”

“I’m sorry.”

She sighed, rubbing her temple and the side of her face in order to make the headache go away that she knew was coming her way.

“You can’t just expect me to forgive you.”

“I don’t,” he assured her, edging closer to her side.

“Then why are you here?”

“Because I want to try and make you trust me again.”

“I never stopped trusting you.”

“You should’ve.”

“I know, but I didn’t.”

“Look, Lando.” She could see the feelings of hope and disappointment battling in his eyes, neither wanting to be wrong, because they both knew they were right, in certain ways. “I can’t just forgive you. You have to work that out yourself.”

“I will. I will do whatever it takes for you to trust me again, I promise. I just can’t keep on living without you.”

[ickytreats]

I spoil the Fauxcest community with treats🍫

Sister that loves to tease her older and baby brother. Always flaunting herself around, taking the prettiest pictures and sending it to them then suddenly sending a picture of her pretty cunnie. Or “accidentally” sending a video of her touching herself.

Baby Brother that is always squirming around her. Can’t help but get hard as he remembers the pictures and videos whenever he looks at her. Until one day big sister sits on his lap in the smallest dress. Grinding down on him as he shakes his head whimpering trying to stop her. She laughs as she marks him up, reminders of his big sis. He is crying as she ends up riding his cock, big sister's cunnie feels too good but he knows it’s so icky. Tries to push her off before he cums but fails. And the loudest cry/moan leaves him as he cums deep inside. He is a hazy mess and swears he has never cum that hard before.

Big brother who’s had enough and barges into her room with a raging hard-on. Doesnt even bother closing the door. Yanking her clothes off, manhandling her into a position of his pleasing, growling into her ear how much of an icky slut she is for wanting her big bro. Marks her up, and is gonna make sure she doesn't forget she asked for this. Makes her notice maybe she had too much on her plate when he has to force his size into her. Has her streaming tears down her face with a cock drunk smile. Purposefully cums deep inside her making sure she feels every single last thrust. He's panting satisfied leaving her cunnie puffy, leaking, and her legs quivering.

[evenmorefatallyobsessed]

I make four Milf Models on the list (and a Fifth on in Shiranui) and then I go and find Six more 'Mature' Gems! Dammit...

Anyways let me introduce the Six new candidates.

1.) Cattleya (Queen's Blade)

Not gonna like, I know noithing besides that she has huge tits, glasses and is a blacksmith with hella muscle... That is more then enough! I would make her son and Jaune friends, and Cattleya is the only woman the Arc trust to forge their weapons and upkeep them. Her son Rana is one of the only people Jaune trust around his sisters.

2.) Kie Kamado (Demon Slayer)

So truth be told, I have not watched Demon Slayer... And this woman and her four dead kids are why! Like THE FUQ!? Jesus man this crap broke my heart, I... I just moved right along to happy anime cuz that shit makes me sad as fuck... So yeah they would live in Ansel, and she would be Juniper's best friend and one of the very few women he can understand the sheer difficulties of raising a small team of children. But worst, because she has to do it alone... Then Grimm attack, and while everyone else is trying to protect their own. Little Jaune rushes to help his best friend Tanjiro and his siblings! Auraless and with only his families sword in hand that he can barely wield the two boys actually manage to kill a Beowulf and proceed to get them to the safety of the Arc House.

3.) Shizu Shinazugawa (Demon Slayer)

DUDE WHAT THE FUCK!!! Seriously this woman somehow had a worst death then Kie! SHE ATE HER KIDS!!! WHAT IN THE FUCKING HELL!!! OH! AND LETS NOT FORGET THAT SHE WAS GETTEN BEATEN BY HER HUSBAND!!! God Dammit, at this point I'm starting to think it's a good thing pig boy was raised by boars. If his mom had been with him instead of abandoning him in thew woods (I assume) she'd probably be dead too! Much less lightening whiney bitch I swear don't give him a tragic backstory too! I do not want to like him... As for shizu, Imma play the Cardin card, and say the two older brothers are bullies in Ansel. Lashing out at others because of their abusive father and of course Jaune is a very ripe target, the envy of the pair because of his kind strong father. Jaune is mad, but after talking to his sisters he decides to invite the boys over to dinner, and try to be friends, after all like his mom says, friends are just strangers you haven't met yet. And besides... Their like him and Tanjiro, he heard they have a lot of siblings too. They should make a club together! It is as little Jaune is having these thoughts that he stumbles upon it... then father beating them, them and their poor mom! And much like with the Ursa Jaune rushes in. And gets beaten within a inch of his life, but doesn't stop, grabbing forks, spoons anything he can get his hands on... Telling them to run, to get his dad. Papa Arc does come forward and what he finds is his son, bloody, beaten barely able to stand, but standing he is, and protecting the poor lady with a broken leg from her evil husband... And then the man is gone, his head taken, the Arc Patriarch not hesitating for even a second.

4.) Ruka Rengoku (Demon Slayer)

'It is the obligation of those born strong to defend the weak. Don't ever forget that..'

That Fucking Line! That Fucking Line Right There Makes Her Hotter Then The Other Two! Oh and what do you know, another piece of shit husband!

Okay, so I get he only turned piece of shit cuz she died bu-NO! You Know what, Fuck that Your Son Died Cuz You Couldn't Step Up And Live Up To Your Wives Words! Fuck You!!! That Drunk Bastard Insulted her memory and made her have to suffer meeting her son FAR TOO EARLY!!!

There is no way this woman doesn't hate her husband from beyond the grave! So here what would happen, Shinjuro would snap earlier then like when his wife is first diagnosed with the disease. At first he tries to stay strong but then begins to drink, then gets pissed when told nothing can be done!

And then in his denial he tries to force them to leave to Atlas, to hopefully find a cure or way to treat her... But Ruka refuses, Ansel needs them, negativity has been on the rise and Grimm have shown up more often. So he begins to drink and rant, and rave and Ruka watches her husband betray both himself and her faith in him.

And then he leaves, taking her with him one night, in desperation kidnapping his own wife against her will, her body far too weak to resist to take her to Atlas forcibly if needed. He uses a favor Papa and Mama Arc owe him to watch his kids while he's gone (Lying and saying he convinced Ruka)

And it is as he was gone that Ansel was attacked, his sons forced to fight, children like them, Jaune, little Tanjiro and the Shinazugawa brothers barely managing to take his place, but not without injury.

When he returns, he isn't met with scorn, nor blame... Not from anyone, except his wife! Ruka will not forgive him, and would rather die alone then married to him... He leaves, bitter angry but knowing she was right. And it was as this was happening that her son brings Jaune to her, the boy noticing several cuts and bruises she'd received from her forceful travels... He reaches out, and uses the power he discovered while the held off the Grimm.

The power that let mere kids like them fight and barely make up the difference her Ex-Husbands absence... His Semblance, Aura Amplification, every doctor had told her her disease wasn't treatable because her body simply lacked the strength to fight it, her immune system was too too compromised and her body too fragile by that point to maintain.

But Jaune's power, it's strength was one of a nature to empower others, to share with them his strength, his vigor, his will and soul, and Jaune wouldn't stop sharing his strength until it was enough to save her!

It was the logic of a simply youth, if he could kill monsters as big as Grimm, he refused to let small ones so tiny and weak take one of his friends moms! The same woman who told him he could be a huntsman! No! That said it was his duty to be one! Well What Kinda Huntsman Couldn't Save a mother!

5.) Rinko Iori (Gundam... Apparently -///-)

I...I did not know she was from a anime... I firmly thought she was a hentai mom... But no, apparently she is from Gundam. Well, I think I've said enough and these pictures hopefully speak for themselves...

I'd say she is a Argus mom, and helped Saphron and Terra navigate raising their first kid.

6.) Mirelia Q Melromarc

She Is A Queen! (Literally!) but no... Like seriously she is best girl, she showed up and everything, oh everything just turned pure euphoria for me. And God Damn She hated her husband! I wish they went more in on how thoroughly pissed she was in the anime like they did in the light novel.

Seriously a fucked up daughter and husband... just... Fuck man, and seriously FUCK BITCH For What She did! (If you read the Web Novel you know what I'm talking about) And fuck Trash too! Y'know it was so he could have a redemption Arc.

Fuck that, as far as I'm concerned those two need death like I need air. Naofumi is her (Only) daughter's fiancée. Which means she's in need of a new consort, a noble, strong, kind one who has a sharp wit.

[artdcnaldson]

back……. mayhaps……

thinking about bsf!artrick (as usual)………. and fooling around w them. just for funzies!!! maybe it’s summer before stanford maybe it’s at stanford maybe it’s still at the academy!! u guys get drunk/high/whatevs and then get soooo handsy! u all pretend it didn’t happen the next day or like u don’t remember. sigh

-🩰

How life feels when 🩰 is back 🙂‍↕️🩷

thinking… getting high with patrick and art except in this scenario it’s Art who’s the inexperienced one… fumbling his way through a made up story about hooking up with Hannah from his AP bio class when you and Patrick keep needling him for details and digging in on inaccuracies until he admits he hasn’t gone further than a few sloppy makeout sessions.

And he’s embarrassed bc of course you and Patrick can’t help but gush over how cute that is (which he hates. And he loves. It’s very confusing). And he’s just crossed enough that he’s able to let all his feelings spill— how he wants to, but he’s afraid he’ll do stuff all wrong and it’ll be mortifying and how he thinks he’d die if he came too fast with a pretty girl.

So you and patrick offer to help. It’s not even much of an offer, as it is a slow gravitational pull tugging the three of you together. Blame the vodka, or the weed, or blame the inner workings of the universe. Clearly the three of you aren’t to blame.

Slow, sweet kisses that are more like attempts to map the inside of your mouths with your tongues. Guiding Art’s hands up your shirt while Patrick palms him through his sweats.

Art can’t go any further than that. He tells you both he feels so good he thinks he might die. Your mouth on his neck, his big hands on your tits (over your bra, because he can’t cross that line yet), patrick stroking him through layers and layers and still it all feels so intense.

He does cum fast. But you and Patrick aren’t Hannah from AP bio. You live for it— the stuttery ruts of his hips as he tries to grind against Patrick’s palm for friction, the pretty moans spilling from his lips, the half-lidded gaze as he pants and comes down.

He has the self-awareness to feel a little bashful about it, to blame how crossed he is for cumming so fast. He changes the topic and you all move forward like Art didn’t just cum in his boxers, like you and Patrick aren’t turned on out of your mind (a problem which you’ll both find a way to take care of later).

And in the morning, when Art pretends to forget, you do too.

[pastlivesxpastlie]

There's not enough ii/iii/f!reader for me. I need more. 🥹 Can I get a ii/iii/f!reader fic where she asks to watch them together as a birthday present but they invite her to join when she does? Love the idea that ii/iii have a switch dynamic and reader gets to watch one dominate the other but then gets the other side for herself.

You’ll be getting a bill from a neurologist because this broke my brain🫶 @adenobabe @inv3ga imagine me mushing your boys together like Ken dolls.

Ahem…*mic feedback*

Switch!Brat!iii x Switch!ii x Soft!FemDom!Reader

Your birthday was this weekend and you were feeling restless. You made some lowkey plans but when your besties, ii and iii, (The Boyfriends™️ as you called them) asked what you wanted for your birthday, something snapped in your mind.

You: Ok. I know what I want 👉🏻👈🏻 remember that little offer you two had made?

In your mind you still heard III’s slurred words one night as you both eyed II across the pub: “If you think he looks good now, imagine him on top of me. Bet you’d like that…watching your two friends fuck, hm? Little freak.” At the time you laughed it off. III was such a kidder and knew not what he did when he was drunk, so what does it hurt to play along?

“Oh, can’t even imagine what you two get up to,” you purr, but the sarcasm saturates your words.

“What shit are you two talking now?” II appeared behind you silently, thus sandwiching you between him and III. The bassist loomed over both of you yet II’s piercing blue eyes was what kept both of you in place. Lifting your chin, II appraised your cheeks. “III, babes, what were you saying to her?”

“That she should watch sometime,” III responded, sounding stone-cold sober. Maybe he was lucid when he whispered those filthy things. II nodded and shrugged as if to say, ‘she should. Why shouldn’t she?’ The only thing you could do was burst into a nervous laugh which caused the boys to laugh, too; the proposition long forgotten. Or unspoken at least. But you didn’t forget. That was three months ago, allowing you 90 some odd days of the fantasy evolving in your head from something simple such as watching II go down on III to being made to touch yourself while one fucked the other. You could never decide who you liked getting fucked more in your fantasy. There was something obvious about III taking II but that didn’t make it less exciting. The thought of II fucking III made you giggle at first, thinking of iii’s legs all lanky around ii’s little waist, but soon it intrigued you…imagining II claiming III. You felt ashamed for thinking about it even though it wasn’t your original idea…the two of them literally offered themselves to you…you were allowed to enjoy the thought. And more than that…you were allowed to ask for it.

ii: are you sure that’s what you want?

iii: that doesn’t mean “no,” btw, dove.

iii: just means we want to know if we should book a room or not 😈

ii: stop double texting and give her second

iii:🖕

You: I’m sure. Saturday night.

ii: one more thing. If you’re up to it, we want you to join. No pressure, honestly. Even if you change your mind day of, yeah?

All week your mind was on its own little hellish rollercoaster. One minute was “yes! I WILL fuck my best friends!” The next was “no. I will watch respectfully.” And sometimes, but not too often, it was “I should call it off. I should be in horny jail.” But when Saturday night came and you instinctively pulled out your little red dress, you knew your mind was made up. And the boys knew it, too.

When you met up with them in the hotel bar, the energy crackled. There was a giddiness about the three of you, and you found yourself being more openly affectionate with them. It started out innocent enough. Pushing iii’s hair behind his ear mindlessly, resting your hand on ii’s arm when you asked him something—all innocent fun. Until of course they asked if you could tie a cherry stem with your tongue.

“Obviously I can. Watch and learn,” you teased. II leaned forward on the table letting his chin rest in his hand, watching intently, while iii crossed his arms.

“What are you even doing?” III laughed, asking what everyone was thinking. This was so much harder than you remembered. “Such a liar.”

“I dunno…it’s kind of hot. Persistent little thing,” II said not taking his eyes off you. You spit out the cherry stem, not even bent much less tied. A rosy blush covers your face as you giggle at yourself. “Look at her,” ii teases as he scoots near you, “she’s a mess. Aren’t you?” You lean into him as you laugh a little too loud. Suddenly iii looks serious.

“Doll. Before you get too faded…”

You instantly straighten up but shudder because II runs his fingertips across your shoulder blades. “What’s up?”

“Are you joining us tonight…or just spectating?”

This sobered you up instantly. You nearly forgot about the end goal here, watching them together or actually joining them. You took a deep breath and looked at them both for a second as you considered your options for the last time. Finally, you nodded slowly.

“Alright,” a wide smile broke across iii’s face, “shall we?”

Moments later, you were being pushed into the empty elevator with them. II made sure no one else was approaching as iii pressed you into the wall opposite the doors. His wide palm thumped beside your head on the wall, trapping you. You didn’t want to be completely passive tonight. You could just stand there and let him toy as he pleases, but it’s your birthday, and he’s a part of your gift. You lean up and gently tease his lips with your tongue. As he lets out an amused huff, he pulls your face forward in a rough kiss. II hums contentedly as he leans against the wall, just watching. III nibbles and pulls your bottom lip just a bit as he breaks the kiss. “That’s a good girl,” he laughs softly. Suddenly he flings you into ii, who captures your lips with a patient intensity. III’s kiss excited you, but ii’s seduced you. When the lift got to your floor, ii’s pulled away, wiping his mouth and looking you up and down.

“You’re trouble.”

You look back at III as he gently guides you to the room. “Is that a good thing for you two…trouble?”

III rolls his eyes and laughs dryly. “I’m always trouble with him, love,” he says as you enter the room. Seeing the soft lighting and comfy king sized bed helps you get in the mood but it also serves as a reality check. You are here! With your besties! And it becomes even more real when…oh shit.

“You’ve got such a mouth on you,” ii growls as he pulls iii to the bed. “Definition of trouble.” II climbs on top of iii to kiss and suck at his neck. III moans softly as ii marks him, but he reaches out his hand to you. He wants to lay beside him. That’s when you realize you’re staring. Gawping. You slip out of your shoes and slot beside iii with his arm wrapped around you. His hazy eyes wander to yours.

“Come here, good girl.” He whispers. III pulls you to him and your lips meet again. You don’t know what to do with your hands but you remind yourself that this is your gift. Make the most of it. Your hand drifts from iii’s chest to ii’s hair. The urge to stir the pot is too strong. You pull at ii’s hair and wrench him from the crook of his boyfriend’s neck. III breaths out a little “fuck” as you and II make out right above his face. II licks your bottom lip playfully and nudges your noses together.

“Let me take care of him and then I’m all yours, love.”

Loud and clear. III let’s go of you to sit up and take off his shirt; ii follows suit, still in iii’s lap. Their kisses are rough, needy, as if they don’t do this whenever they want. II grinds into iii’s lap and moans. “Fuck yeah…fuck…bite me,” ii murmurs as iii licks a long stripe up his neck. This is the hottest thing you’ve ever seen, and they’re not even naked yet. “Lay back and take your pants off, handsome,” ii whispers. You bite your lip as iii lays back to shuffle out his pants and boxers, his cock springing free. You’re desperate to touch it, to have it in your mouth, but ii beats you to it. He drags his fingertips up the underside of iii’s cock teasingly, relishing in the way he squirms beneath him. “What’s wrong? Squirming away from me?”

“Fuck just stroke it…”

“That’s an idea.”

“You want to…come on just…” iii swipes a hand down his face and grabs for ii’s hand, but it’s slapped aside.

“Hands behind your back. Now.”

III huffs and groans. “Yeah…yeah alright. Fine.” He lifts his core and folds his forearms under his back.

“Looks you have a good boy, ii,” you murmur, finally finding your confidence. II’s smirk makes you want to kiss it right off of him. Finally he starts jerking iii’s cock while staring through you. You’re under his spell, basically eye-fucking him. III is whimpering and moaning pathetically; the only attention he’s getting is ii jerking him off and he keeps looking at you…begging for anything with his blue puppy eyes.

“Babe…babe…take that pretty dres-“

“Don’t tell her what to do,” ii snaps, “it’s her birthday…have some respect.”

III chuckles breathlessly through his moans as ii slows his strokes. “Sorry. Sorry, pretty.” But there’s no love lost, you’re entertained by their dynamic. You roll closer and pepper little kisses on cheek.

“Didn’t take you for a sub, iii,” you whisper. He shrugs as ii takes a little break to fetch something from his overnight bag.

III moves his face to kiss you softly, his cock twitching when you run your hands down his stomach. “I can be…but so can he,” he whispers back, referencing ii. “Switchy, like me.”

Your jaw drops, and a shocked laugh fills the room. “II? Really, hun? You like being thrown around a little…told what to do?”

“He so does. Honestly, one time…with IVy of all peop-“ but iii doesn’t get to finish. II puts his hand over iii’s mouth, muffling his mischievous snicker.

“Runs his mouth too much. Love, show me how you’d shut him up,” ii says with a cocked eyebrow.

You take your cue to slip off the bed and undress. They both watch you in reverence. If iii didn’t have his brat mouth covered, it would have been agape. “II,” you purr, “take your hand off my seat.” II moves his hand, and iii exclaims ‘oh fuck yes,’ as you straddle his face. Since his arms are still tucked behind him, you press your desperate pussy to his mouth. Your palms press into his tummy as he laps at your clit. You can’t help the slutty noises he’s pulling from you. II has slipped out of his clothes and positions himself between iii’s legs. He’s brought a small bottle of lube with him. “Are…are you gonna fuck him,” you ask…or at least try. It’s hard when you’ve got a tongue prying at your slit and two hard throbbing cocks before you.

II squirts the liquid in his palm and pumps iii with a renewed lust. “Hah…no, no. This cock is yours first.” Poor iii doesn’t last long with your pussy gushing against his lips and ii’s deft touches. Your eyes roll back as iii moans into your pussy. “Alright, love, hop off.” You roll off and watch as the two of team meet in a hot, passionate kiss. III undoubtedly stiff arms wrap around ii and hold him like he’s the most precious thing.

“Taste her on me, babe?” iii whispers against ii’s mouth. II nods with a dumb little smile and playfully licks at iii’s mustache. “Alright…hopping in the shower.”

“Aw…but…” you pout.

“I’ll be back, doll. Don’t worry.” III chuckles as he saunters into the bathroom, leaving you and ii on the bed. As if it has to be a secret, you both sit silently until you hear the shower run. II is immediately on you, groping your tummy and breasts as he kisses at your neck. Your eyes roll back as breathy pants leave your lips. Your chest heaves as his mouth greedily works down to your breasts.

“Be a good boy for me…hm?” Your finger gently tilts his chin up. “C’mere…” He’s a goner as your lips rub up against his. They’re so puffy from kissing iii. “You’ve been good haven’t you…waiting your turn…haven’t even touched yourself.”

“Heh, stop,” he saying looking away with the sweetest blush. “Where’d this Mommy act come from, hm?” He peppers your cheek with kisses as he whispers.

“It’s not an act,” you whisper as you adjust his cock to slide in. III got you beyond wet enough for ii, so only a gentle nudge was needed for him to go in fully. II’s head falls forward with a low groan. “Let me see you…” your hand now rests firmly under his jaw, wrapped around his neck. He grins like any subby good boy would when your fingers flex. “There he is…eyes on me…” His eyes are dreamy and hazy as they flutter shut or roll back as his cock twitches inside of you. You squirm a little just to get comfy and enjoy teasing him as your bodies writhe against one another.

“Please,” he whimpers. He’s getting impatient.

“You want to cum so soon?” You question mocking pout.

“I…fuck…I can cum again later. Just please….”

His sweet puppy eyes glisten as he bites his lip, practically whining. His adam’s apple bobs against your palm but he doesn’t break. “Show me how happy this makes you…” He shudders and slowly thrusts. His body wants to slump forward but your grip holds him steady. “You want to cum before he gets back in here? Hm?” II nods quickly and squeezes his eyes shut, the overall excitement from the night and your tight softness overstimulating him. “Heh yeah…just for me and my good boy…I’m going to let go of you now—“

“No please…please keep it there…feels so good…so good for you…” he begs. “Just a little harder…” When you squeeze a little harder, a fire lights in II. He fucks you fast and rough trying to play this little game where you have to finish before iii comes out. His lips form a little pout, dying for a kiss. You can’t resist that. Instead of letting him move, you lean up and capture his lips. He moans against your mouth as the first kiss makes him lose it. You move your hand to let him breathe as he cries out against your chest.

II is still nestled against your chest, and in your pussy, when iii comes out of the steamy bathroom…already rock hard again. “Alright, loves…who’s next?”

[pinkandpurple360]

I wouldn't blame anyone for finding Look My Way too Stolas-sympathetic and weepy but honestly I think on the whole it's way better than most of the songs he gets in the show

and that's because it actually has a narrative arc to it. Stolas reflects on his life, realizes he is the problem between him and Blitzo, actually shows some empathy for the armor Blitzo has developed as a result of being impoverished, then decides on an action: making amends for making Blitzo a means to an end. and it retains his original classist character by having the impish plaything line that the show whitewashed over

it still has the same problem anything Stolas related does in that it's hard to care about his repeated pleas for Blitzo to look his way, but it's a far more concise view of him as a character and crucially he actually shows some ability to self reflect in it and then take action based on his conclusions

ParanoidDJ released the original after ep6 but honestly it would fit perfectly in the show after ep7, where Stolas comes back in from the party. instead of getting drunk, maybe he stops and makes himself think about where things went wrong

instead the songs he has in the show are

Stolas Sings - immediately implies Blitzo lied to him, so no self reflection or introspection. It's set up he'll go to get a crystal but that isn't referenced in the lyrics, it's just a split second freeze frame when he chucks his book into view of the camera which is bad storytelling. It's all self focused self pity - he's the victim and that's that. no sign of care for what he's done to Blitzo or Via unlike Look My Way.

All 2 U - a breakup reflection where he does no self reflection or introspection. blames Blitzo for stuff he did (let him get too close/go on too long/fell too far). all self focused self pity - he's the victim and that's that

duet number - does say he maybe did something wrong, but it only counts if Blitzo didn't actually want him (then when Blitzo confirms that, he proceeds to...show no self reflection or introspection - just he's the victim and that's that, you get the idea)

the show numbers not only fail to move the plot forward, they don't move Stolas' character forward at all. Look My Way really sticks out as one of his numbers because it's basically the only one where he does explicitly say 'I'm in the wrong and need to fix things' where in the show it's always 'maybe I did something wrong, maybe, but you hurt me so you're more wrong and I'm putting off doing any self reflection on what my issues are until Tuesday - when I'll put it off again'.

he's far more proactive in LMW too - he doesn't sound like he'll just give up on making amends at the first failure. meanwhile Show Stolas has done only two proactive things when it comes to Blitzo onscreen: making the deal and breaking the deal. both things were done for his own benefit and he's now back to being passive and expecting Blitzo to be the one to come crawling back to court him even though Blitzo has every reason to think he moved on with the succubus dude to spite him in particular

This moment here

It wasn’t him feeling some guilt/remorse for how obnoxious and forceful he behaved, or sympathy for Blitzs unhappiness. He is thinking “Aww….he doesn’t love me, that makes me so sad. Poor me. I deserve love. I just want a lover.”

Well anon, the simple explanation LMW stolas is so different…..is, Vivienne/Sam Haft didn’t write that. They both do think stolas is the more innocent and more victimised party. That’s why before Full Moons confrontation, stolas has sung not one, not two but three sad ballads about his soft boy romantic feelings. And it’s why stolas’ personality was changed drastically between his nasty truth seekers self to his Ozzies bleeding heart self. To make you forget his 1-6 self ever happened and pity him.

While blitz was only allowed to smirk and make sex jokes in a verse of stolas’ third sad song. With the intent of making him look like the “real” pervert with a cold black heart. His verse in when I see him was intended by Sam to set up “that your first instinct is that it’s always (gasp) about sex (closes eyes solemnly)” line. Stolas is allowed to have an inner monologue, desires, worries, regrets and hopes. Blitz is only allowed say “fuck” “penis” and “im traumatised”** with an asterisk saying that makes him an asshole and not “baby” stolas’ fault. Spoken to you in apology tour dialogue delivered by the lovely: Vivienne Mayday aka Verosika Medrano.

Viv didn’t write look my way, and disagrees with the narrative.

She hates Octavia for not being more grateful to her father and thinks stolas deserves to be free from being her parent. So took his line about her out of the song. Twitter emboldened her to go through with this belief. So she took her line out of LMW.

She hates blitz for disliking upper classes, implies he’s “just like a supremacist” against princes for it. I think this also came from Twitter. You are NOT allowed to point out the racism of stolas or you’ll be branded a striker sympathiser.

She agrees with stolas fans that the real reason blitz doesn’t trust stolas’ gifts with no catch is nothing to do with stolas’ previous exploitative transactional actions….it is….because of his own mean imp father? Because Cash taught him love is transaction. A very convenient excuse Viv absorbed again, from Twitter and YouTube.

Cuz….it was cash. Not the sexual extorter who held his job over his head. That’s his soulmate cause owls only mate once via eye contact and die of broken hearts if they can’t have their mate forever. His 25 year long lust for someone he only knew as a child isn’t weird at all wdym. In fact all the bad stuff is Blitzs fault.

She absorbed all of this nonsense from Twitter takes, specifically the stolas stans, because she thinks putting fandom talking points into canon is a safe bet. The actual story is out the window, there isn’t one.

See how letting the stolas fandom twitter write your story for you makes for a biased fucked up victim blaming story that coddles a sexual abuser with “involuntarily celibate” arguments?

When she makes stolas reflect and take accountability, the reaction she wants you to have is “Poor baby stolas blames himself which shows what a good little boy he is! Even though nothing is ever his fault!” She just wanted to make money off of someone else’s work.

[beebee18]

Maybe?

Lee Know x Reader

Characters: Lee Know, Reader - Felix, Seungmin and Chan (brief)

Genre: Fluff, slight angst.

Warnings; Drunk stranger, grabbing.

Summary: This is the first time you and Minho have had a civil conversation with each other, unfortunately it occurred due to a pushy drunk stranger.

(Apologies, half of the end is just texts 😭)

Main Masterlist Skz Masterlist

"Hey, hello."

"Hello?"

"I'm (name), I saw you in the cafe, wanted to talk."

"Ah, I would but it's late, I have to go home."

"Let me walk you?"

"No thanks, I'm good."

"Come on, don't be such a bore, it's the weekend." He says coming closer making you step back.

"No. I really have to go, bye." You start walking away calling Felix to see if he could stay on call for some time but he did not answer. Maybe someone else? Apparently everyone's busy tonight.

"Hey come back, let's go somewhere. I'm handsome, you're average when are you gonna get a chance like this again huh?" He slurs a little alarming you.

Honestly you were too scared to feel insecure in that moment. When you don't reply and continue walking, a strong hand grabs your upper right arm and spins you around pinning you close to the tipsy stranger. His other hand goes around your back, feeling you up.

"I think you should let me go..."

"And I think you should come home with me..." Him closing his eyes and leaning closer at then end of his sentence gave you enough time to push him to the ground with full force and run.

Where to run?

The jype building is right there, the staff knows you, they would let you in.

Bursting into the skz dance practice room to see no one but Minho dancing blindfolded knocking some air out of you.

Do they all practice blindfolded? Or is it just a Minho thing?

He must've sensed your arrival as he peeked from underneath the black bandana around his eyes, locking eyes with you and removing the cloth completely. He's staring with a questioning look, as if he can sense your unease and fright.

"Do you know where Felix is? He's not answering his phone..." You say looking at him walking towards the table to switch off the music.

Then he walks to you, standing in the doorway and gently pulls you in by your wrist. "I'm not not a gentleman you know?" He says, leaving your wrist.

"Really? I wouldn't have guessed" You say rolling your eyes at him, him doing so back at you.

But he can sense your malencholy state, his face softens when he notices you fidget with your hands and look around the room.

"Felix and Chan are shooting some show today, babysitting or something, his phone's probably off." Says Minho, looking at your saddening features.

"Hey, are you okay?" He asks, he may not show it but he cares, how could he not? His instincts to comfort you shoot through him when he hears you choke back a sob, he can't help but pull you into a hug, gentle brushing your hair.

This has absolutely nothing to do with the fat ass crush he harbours.

Minho manuvours you both so you're sitting on the sofa in the corner. He strokes your back, trying to calming you down, after a few minutes, you do.

Moving back and looking at him not knowing what to say. This was uncharted territory. He looked concerned, understandably so.

Narrating what had happened earlier to him made you feel at ease. You were never one to coil within yourself, and when he looks at you with those eyes, you just want to melt and let him protect you forever.

"Do you want me to stab him?" He asks making you laugh and him smile.

"That would be one hell of a way to ruin your idol image." You say giggling.

"People would remember me." He says, giggling a little.

"Who says they won't remember you as you are now?"

"I don't know, I guess we're in an industry where if you lag behind one day you become a part of the past. Kinda scary..." Replies Minho, soft face staring at the mirror opposite him, deep in thought.

"I don't think people will forget you, especially stays. Of course when new fans join the industry and you become the 'old gen' then yes, it's likely that they won't know you. But the one's who know you and watch you, will never forget you." You say sort of rambling, with a sincere and soft gaze.

He seems surprised by your words, turning his head to look at you, meeting eyes. His expression a mix of slight shock and understanding. Creased brows, slightly wide eyes, a tiny part between his lips before a smile breaks past.

"It's okay, being remembered forever seems like a hassle anyway, I'd rather commit felonies."

"I'd love to join you, as long as we don't rip each other's throats out." Silence followed after you said that, Minho sitting up to face you, almost as if preparing to speak.

"Do you really think I don't like-" He got cut off when your phone rang.

You quickly apologised and answered seeing as it was important. Rushing to leave but waving goodbye to Minho with a soft smile which makes him feel warm and fuzzy inside, but he won't admit it.

Maybe he had a chance, maybe.

///

Texting- (Y/n and Felix)

Felix: Hey, you called? I was shooting.

Y/n: Yeah but I spoke to Minho

Felix: Minho? What happened?

Y/n: I came to the building for some reason and you weren't there but he was practicing and I spoke to him.

Y/n: I'm okay now.

Felix: Oh good, that's good.

Felix: How was he though? I know you guys aren't the greatest of friends.

Y/n: He was great actually, sweet and funny too. I had no idea he could be funny when he's nice.

Felix: Maybe you'll get along now.

Y/n: Hoping for it.

///

Texting- (Felix and Minho)

Felix: Heard you and y/n were alone today.

Felix: I'm not saying anything happened but she did say you were 'really sweet and funny.'

Felix: Just thought I'd let you know since, well you already know.

Minho: Do not tell her anything, I swear

Felix: As if I would ruin this when your freaky single ass finally gets the courage.

Minho: Do you want me to be mean? Huh?

Minho: You want to feel what Seungmin feels?

Felix: Chill, love you though.

Felix: Please don't ruin this, I like, love Y/n too much for any 'boy' tricks you might pull on her.

Minho: I won't and come practice.

.

[hannahssimblr]

“Don’t overthink it,” I say. “They can smell that, you know? They sniff out insecurity.”

“You make them sound like beasts.”

“No. No, they’re not. They’re not that scary.”

“Right. It’s just you keep going on about how un-scared and completely chilled you are, and you bringing it up like, fifty times is making me feel like you actually are a bit frightened of them,” Jen, cross-legged on my bedroom floor, pats glitter onto her eyelids. “They’re just bouncers. How bad can they be? Surely not worse than those bastards in Dublin.”

“They’re not violent, they’re just judgmental.”

She rolls her eyes. “Oh, no. They’ll judge me. What’ll I do? I’m immune to it. Unless it’s my mam there at the door, I won’t be phased.”

“I’m just trying to prepare you for the realty. You know? Like, if you don’t get in, you shouldn’t take it personally, because they’re so particular, and honestly, most people get turned away.”

“But not you?”

“Hm?”

“Not you? You’ve gotten in to Berghain already?”

“Oh, yeah, of course.”

I haven’t. Tonight will be my sixth attempt, and crossing the threshold has become my most pressing need since I moved. Each time, I pray the bouncers will see past whatever it is about me they find so unsuitable for their club, but each time I am disappointed. Maybe Jen will be my good luck charm, and will be so distracting at the door that nobody even sees me slip past. 

“Well,” she shrugs. “If they let you in, then they mustn’t be very picky at all.”

“Thanks.”

“I’m messing.”

“But not really.”

Jen laughs into the mirror. “No,” she says. “Not really.”

In the Berghain queue, I adopt a new method of staying perfectly silent and still. I am a statue in black denim, as techno beats throb from within the looming walls of the club. The party is continuing from the night before. I am nervous, but I try not to show it on my face, nor the movements of my body.��Jen offers me some of the cigarette she is sharing with Jonas, and I shake my head, for fear that this act, or any act at all, will draw too much attention. That it will set off the radar of the doormen, guarding the club with their mysterious rules. 

“Cold, isn’t it?” Jen comments, and I wish she wouldn’t. 

“Mm.” I reply. A group of men are turned away. 

“They must be too drunk.”

“Maybe.”

We stand mute for the next half an hour, Jonas bobbing his head to the music as the queue shortens ahead of us. He gets in every time no matter what he does. He is never nervous.

We reach the top, and my palms sweat despite the cold, fisted inside the pockets of my coat. Jen keeps a straight face, like I told her. She doesn’t speak. A doorman examines her, and Jonas, and me. 

“Welkommen,” he says, and waves us inside. 

I have been holding my breath. I let it out in a rush. Someone asks for my phone, puts a green sticker over the camera. I hardly dare to look around me. 

I am inside, awash with approval. 

“Very grungy,” Jen comments, nonchalant, as we climb a staircase to the main hall. The industrial fittings from the building’s electrical plant history, with soaring, concrete ceilings and pipe and disintegrating tile, plastered with stickers, German slogans I only partially understand. 

It is the wall of sound that takes me by surprise. The immense noise of it that invades my body and vibrates through me, my heart thumping in time with the beat. 

“Christ,” I say, though nobody hears me. My voice is inside my own ears and nowhere else. Around us, bodies drift upon the dancefloor, arms up, weaving together as though moving underwater. I’m in another realm, like diving beneath the surface, time liquid, direction lost. Hundreds of bodies move in leather and latex, with chains and spikes, studs, laces, and masks. These people could be scary, but it isn’t like that. It’s mesmerising. Disorienting. There is a moment where I leave my body, and forget where I am, and I’m drifting above them. 

Jen yanks me down, her mouth against my ear. “Do you know where your friends are?” 

“Somewhere,” I bellow, and shrug, staring out over the sea of dancers under the lights and the smoke. Impossible to tell one person from another. One thousand shades of black. “In there. We can go in.”

“Yeah, okay,” She grabs my hand, then Jonas’, and pulls us toward the churning centre. 

I do not understand this brutal music, but I pretend to. It thuds on, repetitive. It rattles my bones and I close my eyes and smell the cigarette smoke and sweat. I move with the wave. 

“Jude, baby!” hands are on me, and there is Elias, glitter on his face, and his pupils black. Next to him, Dalia, the same, her curls sticking to her forehead, jaw gurning. 

“We found you so easy,” she says, close to my ear. “You stick out.”

“Oh. Because I don't belong in here.”

“Nah. Because you’re tall as fuck. This your friend?” She’s reaching for Jen with fingers wiggling, her signature warm smile made edgy by the manic look of her eyes.

Jen meets them, Elias and Dalia, and I can’t hear what they’re screaming into each other’s faces, but they’re smiling, because she’s likeable. As I watch them, my eyes settle upon a dusting of white powder in the fibres of Dalia’s top, and I feel hungry. We’ve been doing this a lot these last few months, not at Berghain, obviously, because of my unsuitability, but in other clubs, other parties. It’s fun, the way it is here, the culture around the drugs. It doesn’t feel dirty the way it did when I was in school, like I didn’t know what I was taking. The things I put into my mouth or up my nose could have been scooped off the floor of a Portaloo, for all I knew. This is different. I like it more. But it’s fine, it’s like cigarettes. I don’t really smoke. I don’t really do drugs, either.

Within five minutes, Elias, Jonas and I are doing lines in the toilets, and then we’re dancing with the girls for some undeterminable amount of time. The music pounds on, we smoke cigarettes, the liquid crowd swirls.  

“You’re on it,” Jen says, peering into my eyes as we sit in a lounge above the techno room, and I feel guilty, because it’s her, and I used to try and be sober when we were together. 

“Nope.”

“Where did you get it?”

“Nowhere.”

She digs around in my pockets, and I knock her hands away from me. “Get out of there. I don’t want you stealing my chewing gum wrappers and bits of lint.”

“Oh, come on.” She shoves her hand into the back pocket of my jeans. 

“Stop grabbing my arse, you filthy little freak.”

“What are you doing, Jenny?” Elias cries. “What do you want, darling?”

“Nothing,” I say, giggling now, and I firmly plant her hands back in her lap.

“I think Jude has drugs. I wanted to see them.”

“Oh, he doesn’t. But I do.” Elias produces a baggie of pills and tips one into his hand. “Here, I’m not leaving anyone out of the fun.”

I panic and snatch it before she can. I tip it into my mouth and swallow. Jen gapes at me as I grimace. “That was for me!” She cries.

“Was it? Too bad. It’s mine now.”

Elias rolls his eyes. “Oh, Jude, don’t be so selfish. Don’t worry, Jen.” He offers her another pill, and again, I snatch it, and I swallow it before she can. Now she stares at me, her brows drawn, confused and annoyed. “Hey! Stop robbing them,” she says. “Those were for me.”

I grin. “Well, too slow.”

“You’re cracked.”

Her nostrils flare, and there is a twinge of anxiety in my stomach, as I know my body will make me pay for this later, but the impulse to protect Jen is much stronger than my self-preservation instincts. It’s not that I was foolish enough to assume drugs would not be present, abundant even, at Berghain, but I didn’t think Jen would try to take them. After all that stuff from before, the images still burned into my brain, of fourteen, crying in Michelle’s bathroom as her dad held Jen over the tub, the plastic tube, and her sobs.

Again, Elias reaches for the bag, and this time I push his hand away, “No, Elias,” I say, “Leave it. She can’t have any.”

“Oh, stop. She wants them!” He winks at her and smiles that big, white veneer smile of his, but he doesn’t understand. I tighten my grip on his fist. “No,” I repeat. “She doesn’t need them.”

“I can do what I like,” she says, and like me, she’s trying to keep the tone jovial, but her voice is rising, tightening. 

I lower my face to hers, and mutter to her through gritted teeth so nobody else can hear, “No, you can’t.”

She coughs out some outraged imitation of a laugh. “I’m a grown woman,” she says, which is absurd. She is eighteen. It’s an argument for argument’s sake, which is so frustratingly Jen that I could scream.

Instead, I soften my voice and attempt to be reasonable, “C’mon, Jen. I know you know where I’m coming from.”

“Well, you’re creating a fuss in front of everyone.”

She’s right. My friends sit around us staring at anything but the situation gradually escalating in front of them. “What’s the alternative? Do I try to explain my way of thinking to you, or do I do an entire bag just to prove a point?”

She huffs, her face reddening. “How come you can do them, then? Huh? You’re there with your big black eyes and cocaine on your upper lip, and you’re going to tell me what I can’t do?”

I touch my face, and my fingers come away with a light dusting. Later, I will be ashamed of the two seconds I spent looking at the residue, visualising rubbing it into my gums while she’s sitting there looking at me. “It’s different,” I insist.

“Why’s it different? We hung out in the same places, tried the same things, you don’t–”

“Well, I can stop anytime I like,” I hiss, “And you can’t.”

She makes a little outraged sound. “You can’t say that to me!”

“Well, it’s true, because–”

“Hey! How about we all dance?” Dalia says, rising to her feet and hauling me out of the seat. “Let’s go downstairs.”

“Yes!” says Jonas. “I think that’s a good idea.”

Our discussion ends there, and down we go to the techno floor, diving back into the sea of dancers. I come up there, washed by a wave of euphoria as the beat hammers on, and I think I get it. I think I get the thing about techno. 

Jen dances with Elias, their skin sweat sheened, and I take her hand to pull her closer to me. “I’m sorry, Jenny,” I say. “I shouldn’t have said that to you. Upstairs, like.”

“It’s okay. I don’t care.”

“It wasn’t nice.”

“Well, you were probably right.”

“It’s not right to talk to you like that, especially in front of people. I–”

“Forget it!” she says, and grins with that snaggletooth smile she’s had since ten. She dances around me, and we hold one another’s hands, and it strikes me that nothing really matters with me and Jen. No matter how much time has passed or how much we change, nothing can ever touch us. And now, in Berlin, sweat in our hair and our hearts matching the DJs rhythm, we’re swimming together, riding a wave, four hundred miles from the sea. 

Beginning // Prev // Next

[crimsonspectre]

Belong

summary: You're Lewis teammate and biggest fan

Tags: LW x gn!OC

You can find this in AO3 too

Five months have passed since you’ve become Lewis’s teammate.

They say you should never meet your idol, but in your case, it’s been smooth sailing. Sure, maybe you’ve had some discussions over trivial legal - mostly - moves in racing, and how to forget the time you proclaimed yourself, in a drunken post maiden victory state, his biggest fan, with big sparkly eyes and one too many details, except for one. But so far, meeting your idol has been like meeting an old friend, someone you can picture from memory.

Time brought along Max’s birthday, and the break before the last three races gave the perfect excuse for an over the top party. You were under the impression that Lewis wouldn’t show up, as he was always somewhere else, thus your outfit choice proved incredibly treacherous when the first thing you saw after entering Max’s penthouse was your teammate’s profile. Perfect profile, by the way.

A moment to recolect, you tell yourself. He won’t notice, this doesn’t have to be a big deal. Shit, not even a deal at all. And it better not be, because he’s coming your way.

“You’re late, rookie”

“You should stop calling me rookie already, it’s been months”

“You’re always a rookie in my books” he answers, laughing. You sit next to him.

“I thought you were traveling” you sip your drink, trying to focus on the task at hand.

“You don’t fancy seeing me here?”

You push your weight agains him for a second before answering “Don’t be dumb. I do prefer you in the track were I can beat your ass, but this is nice for a chance”

“Ha! aren’t you cocky. You’re spending way too much time with me.”

------------------------------------

As the moon and drinks went on, your worries started to melt onto the air. There was no time to worry about anything in a place like this, with this incredible ambiance, as you were gossiping in a corner with Max. Two weeks apart came with lots of updates on the finest paddock news.

When Max laughs, moving a little, you caught those eyes. The ones immediatelty shifting to other serious matters. Maybe he was watching? Maybe you’re just very drunk.

Excusing yourself to get some air, you go to the backydard. Strange, no one’s here, with such beauty around to appreciate. So much to be overtaken by the memory of his eyes that seems as permanent as…

“Hey” you startle as a voice calls from behind.

“God, Lewis, you’re gonna kill me one of these days.”

You move a little as his body ask for space to sit, while laughing it off.

“Are you having a good time?”

“Yeah, sure. It’s nice to have a break like this”

He nods, “For sure it’s nice if you’re the birthday boy special person”

You look genuinely confused, and laugh equally as awkward.

“Oh no, I think you’re getting the wrong idea”

He shifts his tone, and his head tilts a litte. “Am I?”

“Uh… yeah, I mean, Max is my friend” you can feel your face growing hotter by the second. What even is this change of air?

He stands, and as subtle as he arrived, he put his hand on your nape. Just his fingerprints, soft as a feather. You can’t help but shiver.

“That’s fine” he breaks the silence, moving his hand in a pattern.

And it hits you. He saw it, didn’t he? You try to say something, buy the subtle touch apparently put you under a spell, compelled only to look at him.

He keeps tracing your tattoo, the one you promised to get if he won his seventh title, back when you were just his fan, and he was just your idol. A nice, delicate 44.

“That’s fine” he repeats, applying the smallest of pressure on the side of your neck “as long as you remember who you belong to.”

[wakacreations]

Infernal Drunks:

Tav just wanted a peaceful night out. What happens when (Zevlor, Rolan, Raphael, Haarlep) go to a tavern? Turns out they can't hold their liquor. This was so much fun to write.

Zevlor:

“Zevlor! Get down from there!” You turned around to see the Hellrider stood proud atop the bar counter. The bards strummed away at their strings. The patrons drunkenly joined in drumming on the tables. “When the sirens are calling! They'll ask for your wedding band! They say oh no dear you can never settle down! You have made a sailor's swear! We live by the honors of our sailor’s code!” The Commander belted out to their fellow patrons.

"We live our lives ruthless and free! Beware the bitch queen, Umberlee!” The patrons hollered back. You elbow your way through the tight crowd as Zevlor continues to sing. “We are no mere ruffians or just another gutted chum. Well what do we do, sailors?” He gestured to his audience. “We do fuck all till the crack of dawn!” The sailors roared. He waved a hand at you when saw your head poke through the wall of happy drunkards. “We are the proud sailors! We call the seas home! We raise our tankards high till the taverns run dry in the Sea of the Sword Coast!” They cheered, guzzling down their tankards. The Hellrider followed suit. “Another song, Horns!” The bards yelled out. Zevlor gave a boyish smile as he held his hand out to you. “Care to sing with me for the next musical number?”

Rolan:

“You know there is a saying that one should never receive a kiss from a tiefling.” You feel the brush of his spade against your ankle. The last song of the evening was winding down. “Is that so,” you teased, raising a brow. “You’ll find a love like no other.” Rolan took a finished sip of his glass, setting it down. “Is that an offer, Rolan?” Your breath hitches as he moves his face in close to get a better look at you. The tiefling wizard’s cheeks were rosy as his eyes met yours. “Would that make you happy,” he grinned. “I.. Are you drunk, Rolan?” He pulled his face back, cocking his head processing your words. He took your hand into his own. “Only on you,” he purred, grazing his lips against the back of your palm. “Your hand is too cold,” turning your hand over to cup his flushed cheek. “There much better, all warm,” Rolan hummed. You glanced around making sure no one peered at your booth. “I think it's about time to take you home.” If anything it is better to see him at home and forget this evening than to see him lock himself away in the tower for a tenday or more at his own sheer embarrassment. You moved to withdraw your hand feeling your face burn. His hand didn't budge. “Why? I don’t want to,” he huffed, moving his tail to wrap around your ankle. “I don’t want to wake up,” he grumbled. “Wake up from what? Do you feel tired then we better leave then.” He shook his head in an aggressive no. “When I open my eyes after I fall asleep you’ll be gone,” Rolan whined, squeezed your hand. “I'll see you again in the morning, Rolan. Who would I be if I didn't check up on you?” He shook his head again. “Like how the moon says goodbye to the sun.. When they rise from the horizon.. This moment will be no more. Only to return when I shut my eyes…” The wizard swallowed, concentrating on finding the words. “But never to exist in the waking morning,” his eyes moved to the hand he held. He sighed and pressed a kiss to the inside of your palm. “I said to you after the death of my master, please what is mine is yours.” He looked at you once more, “Well my heart is my own and is yours should you ever wish to keep it. My love will always be here within your grasp.”

Raphael: 

“Mouse!? Where are you!?” You heard a deep timbre voice yell above the strings of the tavern. Turning around you see a disheveled man swaying towards you. “Are you alright, Raphael,” raising a brow. He leaned against the bar to steady himself. “Why are you here?” Given how rosy his cheeks have flushed, the stained undershirt and missing doublet, he did make his rounds. “You,” he growled. Tilting your head, “what for Raphael? I have already paid my debts to you,” taking a swig of your tankard. “What? Did you lose the crown already?” The devil sneered, brushing back a hair that had fallen out of place. “Only a fool would lose such a precious relic. No, there is something I need from you.” What could he possibly need? “I need you home.” You sputtered into your drink. “WHAT,” you coughed, hacking out the last bit of alcohol in your lungs. “It is how I said it, mouse." The flicker of Hellfire shown in his unfocused gaze. "I need you home," he rasped. Something bounded off the back of your head. “Who done that!?” You scanned the faces from the direction it flew. “Done, what? What are you accusing me of? I’ll have your-” “No, not you.” You waved off the cranky devil. From the crowd you spotted a familiar looking warlock sitting at a table. “Korrilla?” The devil’s warlock gestured down to the crumpled paper. Unraveling the note it read. He won’t leave unless you take him. Squinting your eyes at the text in hand and looking back at her. “No,” you shook your head. She mouthed back at you, “he’s your problem.” Turning your eyes onto Raphael who was busy groaning and clutching his head on the counter. “He’s your patron!” Looking back, the dwarven warlock had vanished. “Fuck!” Your face fell into your hands. “Tav, I am not feeling so well?” You felt a tugged at your sleeve. “Can we go home now?”

Haarlep

“Haarlep? Where are you going?” The drunken “tiefling” stumbles away from you. “To find more food, Mousey,” they yawned. “Haven't you eaten already? The bards would be singing about the tiefling who wouldn't leave the tavern without kissing all the patrons.” You walked in pace with them. “Please, that is a regular night for a bard. Only an appetizer for an incubus. There are plenty of tasty morsels to feast upon,” they tumbled forward. “Oh, look there, that one looks quite delectable,” they shimmed free from their wingless guise. “No, come here Haarlep!” They shook their wings. Stretching them to their full wingspan, Haarlep flaps their wings preparing to take off. “You want a hug!?” You extended your arms spread wide. “Haarlep, please!” If they flew, who knows where they would end up. “Mousey!” They waddled back towards you. “Yes, that’s it Haarlep! Who is my favorite little fiend?!” Somewhere you swear you heard a tut of disapproval. “Mousey… I am still,” they yawned over your ear. “Hungry,” dropping their head atop your shoulder. “Let's not go home just yet,” they mumbled. “I know, Haarlep. I know,” moving their arm to hang over your shoulder. When are they ever not? “Where are you taking me?” They groaned as you slowly dragged the incubus towards the Devil's Fee. “You'll eat when we're home, Haarlep. Could you at the very least attempt to walk,” you huffed looking up at the long uphill dirt path. Would it be too late to call for Korrilla? Or Yugir perhaps? “If I do Mousey will you sleepover? Who is to check on I if I were to fall desperately ill hmm?” Pressing the pad of their claw into your cheek, you rolled your eyes. “You know the little brat is helpless if I were to fall sick and no one wants to deal with his petty little tantrums,” they slurred. Would killing Haarlep make them teleport to the Boudoir or somewhere else? You shivered from a warm gust of air, a low growl filled your ear, “yes.” Am I hearing things now? “Those are dangerous thoughts to be having, little mouse,” Haarlep purred. You felt their tail wrap snugly around your waist. “So, very naughty of you,” nuzzling their cheek against yours. “Pretty please? I will be as good as my little impies?” The Devil’s Fee was in sight. “Your impies destroyed my pack last time I left it in the boudoir,” you sighed. “I promise, mouse,” they yawned. Just a couple of steps further. Making your way past the gate, “We made it, Haarlep. We’re almost home.” No noise came from the incubus. “Haarlep?” You turned to see their head hung low, drool pooling at the corner of their mouth. “Goodnight then,” you chuckled. Knocking aggressively on the door outcame Mammon’s warlock with a look of agitation. With a toss of a pouch from your hip, she ushered you in. The warmth of Hellfire blanketed you, both. “Just for tonight, Haarlep. I will stay. Who knows, if he’ll allow me to let you out again,” pressing a kiss to their temple. “I might as well,” you yawned, laying down beside them. You watched their slow steady breaths being lullied by its calming rhythm. They stirred in their sleep reaching out to you. “My Mousey,” pulling you to their chest. “Haarlep,” you breathed, suffocating in their tight embrace. “My sweet Mousey.”

[the-meme-monarch]

i was telling my sibling about the Would Hannibal Eat Them poll mini essays i was doing and it became “people gotta lay off mr suzuki man. him and yamada are friends. they were acting. why would suzuki even be responsible for yamada’s paycheck when they’re coworkers. suzuki isn’t his boss. and again it was An Act” which devolved into “people Really hate goro when julie was the primary abuser in their relationship” and like man i Hate to be number 1 goro defender but like. like you honor he Did do that. but so did she. and then “bro i fucking hate policeman”

[billcipher-rpblog]

You knew this would have to happen eventually. One day everything would come crashing down and you would have to be honest.

So be honest. Why did you destroy your home dimension?

... ALRIGHT, WHAT DO YOU WANT TO HEAR?! SOME SOB STORY ABOUT HOW I'M ACTUALLY ALL SAD AND DEPRESSED OR WHATEVER IT IS YOU FLESH SACKS LIKE TO CALL IT?

WELL, SUCK IT UP, LOSERS, BECAUSE MY STORY IS NOWHERE NEAR TRAGIC! EVERYONE LOVED ME AND THAT'S ALL THERE IS... TO...

... HUH...?

.. THIS DUMB CURSE WON'T LET ME FINISH THAT DANG SENTENCE FOR SOME REASON! WHAT IS WRONG?! IT'S TRUE! ... ISN'T IT?

[thegreatyin]

monster and pain for the scoundrel?

(original ask game here!)

Monster: Is your OC monstrous in any way? Is there something that makes them monstrous? Are they aware of their own monstrosity? Do they accept it or reject it?

I mean. I suppose there is the obvious elephant in the room.

Most of the Scoundrel's bat HRT symptoms are currently... superficial at best. They have fangs, and they've already grown horns, but it doesn't really mean anything- their internal organs, reasoning, instincts, etc are all pretty much entirely human. This is routinely a problem for them. They hate it so much. They don't know what'll happen when they truly become more bat than person-

Ahem. Coughs. Anyway.

By-and-large, the Scoundrel is embracing her monstrosity with open and almost too eager arms. She is going "YES... HAHA... YES!!!!" through a window while wearing a sickos T-shirt. She is jumping up and down like a happy rabbit. She is vibrating at a rate of approximately five gazillion trillion bazillion happy bats per hour. She is extremely aware of it and she could literally not be more overjoyed about it.

This is what she wished for, after all. This is what's going to fix her.

...and if it doesn't, well. There's always East.

(There's another aspect of her that can arguably be counted as monstrous, but- well. Let's talk about it next question.)

-

Pain: What's the worst pain your OC has ever felt? Do they have a high pain tolerance?

To put it as succinctly as possible; The Scoundrel has violant eyes.

She did not always have violant eyes. In fact, for most of her life, they were just a normal shade of brown.

And then he happened to play through a certain Exceptional Story, and realized he couldn't stand to forget even a single moment of what he saw.

Things... escalated. Quickly. For some time, she had all but vanished from the Neath- and when she returned, she had a new drive, a new persona, and eyes nobody could stand to forget.

She did this to herself. Eagerly. Happily. And it hurt like nothing else in the world. Turned her blood a few shades shy of the funny neathbow color too, just for good measure.

This wasn't the thing that necessarily created her high pain tolerance, but damn if it wasn't close. Nowadays, the Scoundrel can shrug off almost any amount of pain if he really puts his mind to it. Even if she's usually too much of a stuck-up jerk to act like her high constitution score means anything on a daily basis.

[aidansplaguewind]

You're Ugly Too (2015)

[thedawningofthehour]

Joe Biden resigned as a candiate and I found out from a tumblr meme :(

Your fic makes me so happy in these times

Like I didn't want Biden to run for reelection but I hate this. The time for him to drop out was six months ago. Or he could have fucking resigned a year ago and let Harris run as the incumbent-for real, I half expected Joe to get reelected and then resign the second day, fuck off into the sunset with his dogs and cat and send us tiktoks of him sipping pina coladas on the beach. The only reason I can think of for him to be doing this is that he's about to do a bunch of shit that would tank his chances for reelection, like packing the Supreme Court or declaring a national ice cream day. Actually, no, we already have a national ice cream day, and it's...today, actually. Biden literally ended his reelection bid on National Ice Cream Day. Huh.

Anyway. I would definitely prefer for the first female president to be elected in, but clearly America isn't ready for a female president. 2016 showed us that the most qualified woman still can't beat the most unqualified man. And before you start yelling that Clinton wasn't the most qualified woman-she was practically president already. Bill Clinton's presidency is viewed very favorably, the 90s were great in the US. Hillary has always been the brains of their duo, Bill was the face-look at Hillary during any of her speeches, she is not a natural public speaker and is very uncomfortable up there. But she weathers it, she practices, and she fucking knows her stuff. In an alternate universe we're finishing up Hillary's second term. We have a liberal majority in the Supreme Court and still have RvW. RBG retired and lived the last few years of her life like the queen she was. Four people died of covid. Trump put out a book and spent some time touring conservative news outlets to whine about how oppressed he is, but he's returned to 'washed-out loser everyone ridicules' status. And we don't have that because liberals would rather sit on their hands and wait for a unicorn to come along than vote for an imperfect candidate.

"Well she's corrupt-" THEY'RE ALL CORRUPT. ANY POLITICIAN WHO MAKES IT THAT FAR IN AMERICAN POLITICS COULD HAVE ONLY GOTTEN THERE BY BEING CORRUPT. THE ONLY EXCEPTIONS ARE BERNIE AND AOC AND AOC WILL ABSOLUTELY BE SHOT WHEN SHE INEVITABLY RUNS FOR PRESIDENT. EVERYONE LEFT OF THEM HAS BEEN MURDERED BY THE CIA.

Like, for fuck's sake, yes Hillary was out for herself. She would have still ended up being a solid president, because she's fucking smart and knows that would serve her.

The whole thing with covid, it handed Trump every advantage. National crises are election gold for the incumbent, provided they don't completely fuck it. The only reason Bush won in 2004 (which was the only time a Republican won the popular vote in the last 30-some years, I might add) was because he was in office when 9/11 happened. Three years later, despite Bush still fucking up quite a bit in his response, he still benefited from being the guy who 'brought our country together' and people voted for him as an emotional response. The same would have happened in 2020. And Trump literally had it set up for him. Like, there were already plans in place to handle a pandemic, he had experts swarming in ready to take the reins and deal with this for him. Literally all he had to do was wear a mask and say "listen to my man Fauci, he knows what he's talking about." He would have gotten credit for dealing with covid. He would have gotten reelected. Even the most selfish, corrupt version of Clinton that exists in people's minds would have done that, because it would have been in her best interest.

He couldn't fucking do that. He couldn't shut his goddamn mouth, he couldn't stand to have it not be about him for five minutes. He couldn't wear a mask like a fucking adult. So many people died because he was acting like a literal toddler. And in doing so he destroyed his bid for reelection.

And now we're back here again.

I comfort myself with the knowledge that he's never won the popular vote. That he's killed much of his own base with covid. That he's old, that he has to die at some point. That the Antichrist prophecy explicitly states that the Antichrist will only be in power for three and a half years, that he'll fail at every attempt to wrestle power back. (you guys should look up the parallels from Trump to the Antichrist prophecy if you haven't already, like I'm not religious but it's actually really freaky how accurate it is) But I just...I can't do this again. I was so hoping he'd just be dead by now.

For everyone in the US who will be old enough/eligible to vote in November: for fuck's sake, VOTE. Check your state's registration laws, double and triple-check that you're registered. Vote. Vote blue. It doesn't fucking matter who the candidate is, if Trump gets back in you will never have the opportunity to vote again. People will die. And I will be fucking off to Canada or Europe. I know they got their own problems, but Jesus Christ.

And wherever you live-and this is the only time I will ever fucking say this-I would consider buying a gun if you feel comfortable doing that. I hate guns, I think the 'home defense' argument is fucking stupid, but this isn't a normal situation. No matter what the outcome of this election is, Trump's cult is going to get violent. They're cowards and will go for people they think aren't a threat. I'm not even advocating for shooting anyone, just make it look like you and your neighborhood aren't worth it. This shit's going to get a lot worse before it gets better, and we're at the point I legitimately wonder if it's ever going to get better.

[ayyponine]

Same venue. Same-ish crowd. Opposing seasons. Contrasting vibes.