#it’s so weird and familiar at the same time

[aestherin]

KEEP MY HEART

goal 40: good luck

NOTE: another christmas gift hehe 💞 happy holidays everyone <3

PS. i love them (scarayn) your honor :((

You felt a little bad while wishing Kazuha his good lucks when you went with him to the stadium.

Half of the reason was because you felt traitorous wishing him good luck when later, he might find you on the opponent's bleachers. Half of it was because you knew your wishes of luck for you brother were half-hearted — because half of you hoped that your lover could win this time.

You let out a big sigh as you two walked towards his team, which caught Kazuha's attention.

"Why are you sighing like that? You're even more nervous than the one who'd actually play!" He joked, attempting to lighten up your mood.

"I'm not nervous!"

"You are."

"Am not!"

"Are."

You rolled your eyes, having long forgotten the conflict you were feeling just seconds prior. "I told you, I —"

"Captain! There you are!" Venti exclaimed as soon as you and your brother got close enough to them. "Oh, [Name], hi! Long time no see!"

You smiled and waved at them. The team reciprocated your gesture, but you noticed a particular dark green-haired man with golden eyes avoid your gaze.

"Xiao!" You called out. "Good luck!"

He stiffened. At the specific mention of his name, he had no choice but to turn to you. Venti tried to stifle a laugh, but his weird facial expression right now is a proof of his failure.

"You're so cruel," Xiao mumbled. Really, he was finally trying to move on from his suppressed feelings, and now you give him his own 'good luck'?

You are so cruel. And the worst part is that you don't even know.

"Huh?"

"Nothing." He managed to flash a small smile. "I said thank you."

"Oh, okay!"

You noticed Venti patting Xiao's back apologetically while still holding back a laugh before you turned away. You started observing your surroundings — Xiao swatting away Venti's hands, your brother occupied by his teammates...

Now was the perfect moment to sneak away.

Making sure you were not seen, you slowly distanced yourself from your own university's varsity team. You put on a white baseball cap, which goes perfectly with your boyfriend's jersey that you've kept perfectly hidden underneath your oversized red jacket.

'Ugh, the lengths I go to!' You complained. 'Why do they belong in different teams?'

If you had known your future boyfriend would be from University of Inazuma's football team, you would have done everything to convince your brother to accept the university's offer after he had passed their entrance examinations.

If he and Kuni were in the same team, would they be friends like your boyfriend is with Heizou and Aether?

Unfortunately, the halls in the stadium were not sufficient to accommodate your musings. Soon enough, you found yourself welcomed by navy blue cheering balloons and bleachers displaying waves of blue with occasional whites — a stark contrast to the abundance of maroon placards and shirts from where you originally came from.

Although being aware that you aren't as popular as your brother, you still feared the possibility of someone recognizing you. You made another effort to lower your cap more as you unzipped your jacket, letting your boyfriend's jersey be visible.

People kept giving you weird glances, perhaps due to your jacket being red despite being in the blue team's wing.

But you couldn't care less.

You wanted to also somehow show support for your brother, even in just small ways.

After faithfully referring to the ticket that Kuni had previously handed you, you soon found the section where you were supposed to be settled in.

A familiar long, braided purple hair demanded your attention right off the bat as you went through the VIP gate. Around her, several men clad in navy blue varsity jackets and a few already in their jerseys were huddled around.

You smiled, admiring how your boyfriend's brows were furrowed. Not in frustration, however. This time, it was in concentration.

As Coach Ei took her time giving her final reminders, you sneakily made your way into your seat, which you noticed was directly right behind a player's seat currently occupied by a very familiar sports bag.

You busied yourself with your phone, first texting your brother and then his friends one final 'good luck'. Your seemingly endless loop of scrolling through your feed then came to a stop as you heard some shuffling.

"Hey."

You looked up, only to see your boyfriend looming over with a grin, one knee kneeling on the seat right in front of you. His right arm resting on the seat's backrest, and the other on his thigh.

"Hey," you breathed.

"My jersey looks the best on you."

"I know," you jokingly replied.

"Don't we all know?" A certain maroon-head butted in. "He's been telling us that nonstop ever since he gave you one of his jerseys!"

"Hi [Name]! Nice to finally meet you," said the sunshine-haired boy. "I'm Aether, Scara's friend. Also a midfielder."

"Hi!"

Kuni's other friend grabbed your hands and shook them aggressively. "Hi [Name]! Nice to finally meet you! I'm Heizou, Scara's friend and a defender. Also the one your brother blocked because he thought I was your boyfriend!"

"What?" Kuni turned to look at you. "Your brother thinks that?"

You laughed. "He does."

A scowl was now plastered onto your lover's face. Heizou, also noticing this, shivered. Maybe he shouldn't have said that. Maybe, he should now start preparing for the repetitions his captain would make him do once they finish this game. Maybe, he should take what he said back and tell Scara that it was a lie, and that he was just joking.

"Uhm—"

"They're calling for the players now," Ei announced to the team. When her eyes spotted you, she gave a subtle smile and wave before getting back to work.

Heizou let out a sigh of relief as Aether laughed next to him, the two already heading out to the field.

You placed your attention back to your boyfriend who's still in front of you, still maintaining his position from earlier. His earlier grin was already replaced by a frown, though.

You lowered your cap again.

Scaramouche swore his heart dropped when you cupped his face using both of your hands, gently tugging him closer.

"Why is your face like that, hmm?"

"What? Handsome?" He feigned ignorance.

You smiled. "Well, yes. That's true. But you look annoyed."

"It's nothing."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"Okay."

You took a quick glance towards his teammates. Seeing as most of them have already left for the field, you knew you had to settle this fast.

"Kuni." You called.

"What?"

You replied with nothing.

Nothing aside from closing the distance between the two of you — eyes closed, skin touching, lips intertwined; deep breaths the only thing audible upon parting.

"You—"

You put your index finger against his lips.

"Good luck!" You grinned.

KEEP MY HEART — scara x reader smau

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[faithshouseofsmut]

Only you|| Lando Norris

Summary — you and Lando are best friends who have feelings for each other

Warnings smut p in v nipple play teasing

Word count 6934

Reposted form my old account which was deleted

You had been friends with Lando for as long as you could remember—back when the world was simpler, and the only thing that mattered was which video game you were going to play or which movie you’d queue up for a late-night marathon. You’d met at the race track a few years ago, and the connection had been instant—easy, comfortable like you’d known each other for years.

But lately, things have been changing. And neither of you was brave enough to address it.

"Hey, you alright?" Lando's voice broke through your thoughts as you fiddled with the edge of your drink, staring into the cup more than you should. He was leaning on the table, casual as ever, but the way his gaze lingered on you for just a fraction too long made your stomach flip.

You blinked, forcing a smile. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just tired."

He raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “You sure? You’ve been kinda off tonight.”

“I’m just... not used to these late nights,” you shrugged, a half-lie, but it was easier than admitting what was going on—your thoughts had become a jumbled mess of *Lando this* and *Lando that*, and you were pretty sure that it wasn’t just a passing phase anymore.

Lando tilted his head, clearly considering pushing further, but he just gave a small nod. “Well, if you need me to kick anyone’s ass for you, just say the word.”

You laughed, trying to shake off the tension. “You’re such a dork, Norris.”

He grinned, and for a moment, it felt like nothing had changed. Like you were still the same two idiots who spent hours arguing about nothing and everything at the same time. But then, for a split second, you saw the way his eyes softened, and for the briefest of moments, you couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe... maybe he wasn’t joking about being there for you.

Lando felt a pang in his chest at your words—it was so obvious you were deflecting, but he couldn’t press any further without giving himself away. The truth was, it was getting harder and harder to ignore the way his heart sped up whenever you were around, the way his skin tingled whenever your hand accidentally brushed against his.

But he couldn’t say anything. There was too much at stake—the friendship you’d built, the comfort and familiarity of it all. It was too good to lose over a silly, confusing crush.

He sipped his drink, trying to act casual, but he could feel the tension growing between you both—awkward, charged, like the air before a storm. He wanted to say something, anything, to break the tension, but every opening line he could think of sounded wrong in his head.

Instead, he just settled for watching the way your eyes darted around the room, never really focusing on anything for more than a second. You seemed... off, and the fact that you wouldn’t tell him why was eating him alive.

Finally, he couldn’t take it anymore. He leaned a little closer, his voice lowering to a whisper. “Seriously, you’re sure you’re alright? You can tell me if something’s going on, you know. I mean, we’re friends, right?”

He didn’t miss the way you tensed up at his question, and it sent a pang of anxiety through him. Had he said something wrong? Was he pushing too hard?

You forced another smile, trying to maintain the facade. “Yeah, of course, we’re friends. Just like always,” you said.

Lando’s frown deepened. That wasn’t the response he was expecting. He had a feeling there was more going on than you were letting on, and the thought was driving him crazy.

He chewed on his lower lip, weighing his words. “Then why do I get the feeling that you're not telling me something? You've been acting weird for a while now—you're not as yourself.”

He waited, studying your reaction. There it was again—that flicker in your eye whenever he mentioned something to do with your behavior.

You swallowed hard, the guilt churning in your stomach. You wanted to tell him—you did. But the words lodged in your throat stuck somewhere between fear and uncertainty.

“It's...it's nothing, I promise,” you insisted, trying to keep your tone light.

But Lando wasn’t buying it. He knew you too well at this point—he could read the signs of a lie better than the track maps he studied religiously.

Sighing, Lando set his mug on the coffee table before gently taking yours out of your hand, setting it right next to yours, and holding your hands in his own.

Lando's touch was soft, his eyes fixed intently on yours. The heat from his hands soaked into your skin, sending a shiver down your spine.

“Please, just talk to me,” he said, his voice unusually serious. “I know something's not right—I can see it, okay? Do you think I haven't noticed that you've been acting weird around me? And you won't even tell me why.”

You could hear the worry in his voice, see it in the lines of his face. Dammit, you had made Lando Norris worry. Guilt clawed at your chest—you hated that you were the one to cause that look in his eyes.

You swallowed hard, your throat feeling tight. You wanted to pour out all your feelings right then—about how every touch lately made your skin blaze and how you stayed up at night listening to old voice notes he sent you.

But instead, you just sighed, your shoulders slumping in defeat. “It’s just...it’s complicated, okay?”

Lando tilted his head, a silent encouragement to continue. He was listening now, really listening, his gaze never leaving yours. “Did someone hurt you? Because if they did tell me I’ll take care of it.” Lando says slightly panicked he couldn’t stand the thought of you being hurt in some way the whole thought made his stomach upset.

Your heart clenched at his words—he was always so protective, so quick to defend you from any possible harm. The thought of him going to bat for you was both endearing and a little heart-breaking.

“No, no, it’s nothing like that, I promise,” you reassured him quickly. This wasn’t what you had been worried about, but somehow, your lie only made you feel worse.

“Then darlin tell me what’s bugging you” he pleaded. There was that nickname again. The one that made your heart skip a beat and your palms start to sweat. You bit your lip, hesitating, wondering if you were ready to bear your soul to him like this.

“It’s…it’s stupid, really,” you mumbled, avoiding his gaze. Lando leaned in closer, a crease forming on his forehead. “Hey, look at me,” he said, gently tilting your chin up to meet his eyes. “If it’s bothering you like this, it’s not stupid.”

Your breath caught in your throat at his touch, the soft pressure of his fingertips on your skin. Lando was closer now—so close that you could see the flecks of gold in his normally blue eyes. Somehow, despite everything, your feelings for him had only grown, intensified…and there was no burying it anymore.

“It's...it's you,” you blurted out before you could stop yourself, your heart racing. It was like once you started, the words just kept coming.

"Every time I'm around you, I just...I feel different. Like, I get all fluttery and nervous, and my brain turns to pudding. And I can't stop thinking about you, and...”

You paused, your words catching in your throat. You hadn't meant to dump it all out like that, but once you started, you couldn’t stop.

Lando's eyes widened as you spoke, disbelief and surprise warring on his face. He’d known something was up, but he hadn’t expected this—to hear that you were going through the same things he was.

For a moment, he just sat there, dumbfounded, his grip on your chin still loose but his touch still there. Then, softly, almost reverently, he breathed a single word. “Me?”

You almost laughed—it was so typical for Lando. Even when you were pouring your heart out, the idiot still found some way to be charming.

“Yes, you,” you said flatly, rolling your eyes in a vain attempt to hide your nerves. “Who the hell else would I be talking about?”

Lando chuckled, a soft rumble in his chest, and somehow, you could feel the tension slowly seeping out of the situation.

“I just…I can’t believe it,” he confessed. “I’ve been going crazy over the same thing for months now, I didn’t think you’d…

He trailed off, looking at you with a mix of disbelief and something bordering on awe. You stared at him, your mouth open in surprise. Had he just confessed what you thought he had?

“Wait, back up. You…” You pointed a shaky finger at him, your words coming out in a jumble, “You’ve had a crush on me for months?”

Lando looked sheepish, like a kid caught sneaking cookies. He rubbed the back of his neck, a sheepish little smile on his face. “Yeah,” he almost winced at the admission, like he expected you to start laughing any moment. “I know, it’s stupid, but I couldn’t help it. Every time we hung out or talked, or even just…it was like I’d just lose my mind.”

He huffed a dry laugh, looking down at his hands, “I never thought…I never thought you felt the same.”

Your heart felt like it could burst out of your chest at his words. Lando Norris, the flirty, carefree prince of Formula 1, had a crush on *you*, a normal, average girl. It didn’t seem real.

“God, we’re both idiots,” you breathed, the words slipping out before you could stop them. Lando looked up at you, eyebrows raised, a mixture of amusement and relief on his face. “Why’s that?” he asked, a hint of a smile on the edge of his lips.

You huffed, shaking your head. “Because neither of us had the balls to say anything until now.” Lando barked a laugh, leaning back against the couch. “That’s a fair point.”

He glanced sidelong at you, some of the easy confidence returning to his usual swagger. “Although I have to say, I’m still a little surprised you never noticed.”

You gave him an incredulous look. “How was I supposed to notice? You’re a big flirt. How was I supposed to know I wasn’t just another one on your list?”

“I could never let you be just another girl on my list,” Lando murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper, as he gazes deeply into your eyes. The weight of his words hangs in the air, and an electric tension envelops the space between you. You can feel your heart racing, each pulse resonating with the intensity of the moment. Lando’s expression is earnest, revealing a vulnerability that makes your breath catch in your throat. The world around you fades away, leaving only the two of you, locked in this intimate moment, where all your past encounters seem to dissolve, and only the possibility of something deeper remains.

Your heartbeat hammers in your chest, a cacophony of emotion swirling inside. Lando's confession is more than your racing mind can handle. You hadn't expected to hear those words from him.

You opened your mouth, trying to find the right response, an appropriate reaction to the raw honesty in his eyes. Yet, no words come out. All you can do is sit there, caught between wanting to believe his words and a lingering uncertainty. His eyes are unwavering, fixed on yours, waiting.

Lando looks at you, his gaze unwavering. He can see the storm of emotions playing over your face, the way your mind is racing to make sense of all this. But he isn’t deterred. For him, this isn’t just another flirty banter, another attempt to charm someone into a night of fun. This is real—the realest he’s ever felt about anything in his life.

He reaches out, his fingertips just barely brushing your cheek. The touch is light, and gentle, as if he’s afraid of scaring you away with too much pressure.

The soft touch of his fingertips against your skin sends a shiver down your spine, a stark contrast to the chaotic thoughts swirling in your mind. And yet, despite the confusion and surprise, you find yourself leaning into his touch, almost unconsciously.

“I mean it,” Lando says softly as if reading the unspoken doubt in your silence. His eyes are earnest and intense. “I don’t just… I don’t just ‘flirt’ with everyone. You’re… you’re different.”

Your heart clenches at his words, his quiet honesty. Part of you wants to believe him, to take a leap of faith and trust that this isn’t just empty words. But the other part, the part ruled by doubt and fear, keeps you rooted in place.

“How am I different?” you ask quietly, barely daring to meet his gaze. Lando takes a moment to think before answering, his fingers still tracing light circles on your cheek. His touch is soothing, and grounding—a small patch of calm in the whirlpool of emotions.

“You’re different because you’re *you*,” he finally replies, his voice firm, certain. “You’re not just another girl I flirt with. You’ve been my friend forever. You know me better than anyone. And yet, somehow, you still like me. For me, not just for the thrill of it all.”

The words hit you like a wrecking ball, knocking the air right out of your lungs. He was right. You had been more than willing to accept Lando for all his flaws, his quirks, his vices—everything that made him who he was. And somehow, miraculously, he was offering you the same in return.

“But what if it doesn’t work out?” you whisper, your voice wavering, betraying the lingering threads of doubt. Lando's expression softens, his touch becoming more gentle, more reassuring. “I can’t promise we’re going to be perfect, darling,” he admits quietly. “There’ll be rough spots, I know that. But I can promise I’ll be there for you, through all of it.”

He takes a breath, his gaze never leaving yours. “I can promise I’ll try, with everything I’ve got. To make you happy, to keep you safe, to be good for you.” You look up at Lando, your heart in your throat. Everything in you wants to believe in his words, in the sincerity behind his eyes. But the fear of the unknown, the uncertainty of what the future holds, still whispers doubts in your ear.

“I want to believe you, Lando. I do,” you confess, your voice barely audible. “But I’m scared. I’m scared of getting hurt, of losing what we already have.”

“I know,” Lando nods, his thumb gently stroking your cheek. “I get it. I’m scared too.”

He takes a moment, swallowing hard. “But I’m also tired. I’m tired of pretending. Tired of dancing around what both of us have been feeling for months now.”

His hand cups your face then, his touch becoming firmer, more certain. “I’m tired of not having you as more than a friend. And I think...I think you are, too.”

Your eyes flutter shut at his touch, your breath catching in your throat. You hate that he’s right, hate the way his words resonate deep within you. You had been longing for this for months—years if you were being honest with yourself.

You open your eyes again, meeting his gaze. The fear is still there, the doubts still niggling at the edge of your mind, but now...now they’re overpowered by something else. Hope.

“Lando?”

Lando lets out a quiet hum, keeping his gaze fixed on you. He looks as if he’s almost holding his breath, waiting for you to speak.

“Yeah?” he replies, his voice soft, almost tentative.

“Kiss me please?” you ask your voice barely above a whisper. Lando’s eyes widened a fraction, the shock on his face quickly giving way to a look of breathless awe. He looks at you like he can’t quite believe what you’ve just said.

But then, his lips pull into a smile—a bright, brilliant, beautiful smile that makes your heart skip a beat.

“I thought you’d never ask,” he breathes out, and then his hand moves from your cheek to cup the back of your neck, pulling you in towards him. The moment your lips meet his, it's like the world disappears. All the noise, the worries, the doubts, they all melt away, leaving nothing but the sensation of Lando's lips on yours.

His mouth is warm, gentle at first, and then with growing confidence as he deepens the kiss, pulling you closer to him. His touch is electrifying, sending shockwaves through your body as his hands pull you onto his lap.

You reach up to tangle your fingers in his hair, pulling him closer, and tasting the sweetness of his lips. You’ve been craving this for so long—years of yearning compressed into this single moment of release. His hands move under your shirt, skimming over the bare skin of your back, making you shiver against his touch.

The kiss seems to go on forever—a sweet, slow, burning kind of kiss that makes the outside world fade completely. There’s only Lando, only the heat of his body against yours, the pounding of your heart, the way his tongue teases yours, sending sparks straight to your veins.

Finally, you break apart, both of you gasping for air, your foreheads pressed together as you cling to each other. Lando’s eyes are dark, pupils dilated with something primal, something possessive. “God, you have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that,” he whispers, breathless, his hand still tracing patterns across your bare skin, sending shivers down your spine.

“I think I might have some idea,” you reply, your breathing still ragged. “You’ve made it pretty damn obvious, you know.”

You can see the hint of a cocky grin on Lando’s face as he ducks his head, burying his face into the crook of your neck, his hands gripping your hips tightly. “Can you blame me?” he mumbles against your skin, his lips trailing down to your collarbone. “You’re pretty damn irresistible.”

The feel of his teeth, the scrape of his stubble against your skin…it’s driving you insane. Every nerve in your body is on fire, every sense keyed into his touch, his breath, his voice. “I feel like I’ve been going crazy,” Lando murmurs as he nips at your earlobe. “Months of trying to keep my hands off you, trying to pretend I didn’t want you more than I’ve ever wanted anything. I thought I was going to lose my goddamn mind.”

“Imagine what it’s been like for me,” you reply, your voice hitching as he finds a particularly sensitive spot just below your ear. “Watching you smile and flirt with everyone but me. Listening to you talk about your dates…it was torture.”

Lando pulls back at that, his expression turning apologetic. “God, I’m sorry, darling. But you weren’t exactly making it easy for me either, you know. Looking all cute and pretty and…yeah,” he finishes lamely, his face reddening.

You can’t help but smirk at that. “Not my fault you can’t handle a little temptation,” you tease, poking his chest lightly. Lando huffs, his competitiveness flaring as he nips at your finger. “Oh, I can handle temptation just fine,” he retorts with a hint of a growl. “I’ve been handling it for months, thank you very much.”

He pulls you back onto his lap, his arms wrapping around you, possessive, and suddenly his mouth is on your neck again, his teeth scraping over your pulse point, making you gasp

“You were handling it, were you?” you tease between gasps, arching against him as his tongue trails down the column of your throat. “Doesn’t seem like you were handling it very well…”

His hands slide under your shirt, his touch roaming over your back, your waist, his thumbs dipping under the edge of your bra.

“Trust me, love,” Lando says in a low voice, his hands mapping out every inch of your skin, “You have no idea what kind of self-control I’ve had to exercise. There were times I wanted to pin you against a wall and just…”

His words trail off, but the way his hands grip your hips, the way he tugs you flush against him, make it pretty clear what he wanted to do. “What stopped you, then?” you ask, biting back a moan as his lips find your collarbone, his teeth grazing over the sensitive skin. “You seemed to have no problem going after every other girl you wanted…

Lando lets out a soft huff, his forehead resting against your shoulder, his breath warm on your skin. “Because it was never just a one-night thing, darling,” he mutters, almost too quiet to hear. “None of them…they weren’t you.”

His hand comes up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, and when he looks at you, there’s a vulnerability in his eyes that’s almost staggering.

Your heart clenches at his words, the raw honesty in his eyes robbing you of speech. You’d expected flirty charm and cocky banter, but this…this was something else altogether. Lando Norris, the heartthrob of Formula 1, the man who could have any girl he wanted, was admitting to you, just you, that he’d never wanted anyone the way he wanted you

“Lando I need you so bad,” you say hoping for something to happen between you. Lando’s breath hitches at your words, his grip on you tightening slightly as if he’s barely holding himself back. “Yeah?” he breathes out, his voice shaky, laced with desire. “How bad, darling?”

“Bad enough that I don’t think I can take it anymore,” you confess, your voice quivering. Everything in you is on fire, every nerve endings craving his touch, his lips, his body. You want him, desperately, urgently, and you can see in his eyes that he wants you just as badly.

Lando curses under his breath, his hands gripping your hips as he holds you against him. You feel the hardness of his arousal against you, and the knowledge nearly makes you dizzy. Lando leans forward, his lips finding your ear, his breath hot against your skin.

“You have no idea the things I want to do to you, darling,” he murmurs, his voice rough, gravelly with need. “Show me,” you breathe out, your voice hoarse, filled with aching need. “I want to see. I want to know.”

Lando lets out a low moan, his fingers digging into your hips as he turns you so you’re laying on your back on the couch, with him hovering over you, his weight pressing you into the cushion.

His lips are back on your neck, his teeth scraping against your skin as his hands slide under your shirt, pushing the fabric up and off, revealing your bare stomach. His mouth follows the path of his hands, leaving a trail of scorching kisses down to the edge of your bra.

Lando looks up at you, his eyes dark with desire, a silent question in his gaze. You nod, breathless, your body yearning for his touch. Lando hooks a finger under the elastic of your bra, the touch of his knuckles against your skin making you shudder. He tugs the bra off, tossing it onto the floor, and then leans forward to capture your lips in a searing kiss.

His hands roam over your bare chest, fingers dancing over your sensitive skin, igniting a thousand little fires everywhere he touches.

Lando moves his kisses from your lips down to your chest, his mouth trailing down to the valley between your breasts. You arch against him, your body craving more, needing more of his touch, more of him.

“God, you’re stunning,” he murmurs between kisses, his voice wavering, filled with awe. “I’ve wanted you like this for so long, darling…so damn long…”

“I’m right here,” you gasp out, arching your back as his lips close around one nipple, his tongue swirling around the sensitive bud. “It’s not just you who’s been going crazy, you know…I’ve wanted this too, god, so many times I thought I was going to go crazy…”

Lando chuckles against your skin, the vibration sending another wave of heat through you. “Good to know I haven’t been the only one going mad,” he murmurs, his mouth trailing down your stomach, his hands roaming over your sides. “I couldn’t focus in a race for weeks just thinking about you like this, darling, about how you’d look, how you’d feel…how you’d taste…”

He kisses the inside of your hip, his facial hair scraping against your skin, and then his thumbs are hooking under the waistband of your sweatpants, beginning to pull them down. You lift your hips to help him tug them off, your heart hammering against your ribs in anticipation.

Lando looks down at you, his eyes roaming over your body, taking in every inch of bare skin. He curses under his breath, his pupils dilated with desire. “God, look at you,” he mutters, running a trembling hand down your side. “You’re so perfect…so goddamn perfect…”

He moves between your legs, his hands gripping your hips, his touch firm but gentle. “All these months, I’d fantasize about this, about you, laid out like this just for me,” he mumbles, leaning down to press kisses along your inner thighs. “I never thought I’d get to see it for real…”

“I never thought I’d let you see,” you reply breathlessly, your hands tangling in his hair. “But I’m all yours now, Lando. All yours. Show me what you’ve been thinking about…”

Lando groans at your words, his thumb rubbing circles on your hip as he positions himself between your legs. His lips are back on your skin, kissing and sucking and nipping, slowly moving up your thigh until you can feel his breath against your aching core.

“You’re sure?” he asks in a gravelly voice, his eyes meeting yours.

You nod, words failing you. Desire is coursing through your veins like a drug, making you dizzy and needy and aching for more. “Please, Lando,” you manage to say, your voice barely above a whisper. “Please, I need you…don’t make me wait anymore….”

Lando lets out another low moan, his breath hot against your skin. “God, I love it when you beg,” he mutters, his voice rough with desire. “I’m gonna give you everything you need, darling…everything you want…

His mouth finally finds your core, and it’s almost enough to make you scream. His tongue is doing glorious things, and it’s all you can do to keep yourself from bucking against him, the pleasure almost too much to bear.

“L-Lando,” you gasp out brokenly, your hands twisting in his hair, holding on for dear life.

Lando hums against you, the vibrations sending another wave of pleasure through you. His grip on your hips tightens as his tongue continues its wicked dance, bringing you closer and closer to the edge

“God, you taste even better than I imagined,” he mutters, his words muffled against your skin. “I want to hear you, darling…want to know I’m making you feel good….”

You can’t help but obey, his words and his touch driving you to the brink of madness. A steady stream of moans and gasps falls from your lips, and Lando groans in response like he’s enjoying your pleasure just as much as you are.

Just when you think you can’t take any more, Lando’s mouth moves away from your core, leaving you feeling bereft, aching with unfulfilled need.

“Why’d you stop?” you gasp out, looking down at him with hazy eyes. Lando grins at you, his lips glistening with your desire.

“Because I’m not done with you yet, darling,” he murmurs as he moves back up your body, his body settling on top of you, his weight pressing you into the couch. “You’re cruel, you know,” you murmur, a shiver running through you as you feel the hard length of his arousal pressing against you. “Leaving me like that…all needy and aching for you.

“You’ll just have to suffer a little while longer,” Lando replies, his voice dripping with feigned innocence, his lips curving into a smirk. He nips at your shoulder, then brushes his lips against your ear, his breath hot against your skin. “Just think about how good it’ll feel when I finally give you what you want, love…how good I’m going to make you feel…”

You whine in frustration, arching against him, your body desperate for release. Lando laughs against your skin, his hands roaming over your body, igniting a thousand little fires everywhere he touches.

“Look at you, all needy for me,” he murmurs, his voice gravelly with desire. “God, I love seeing you like this…all desperate and begging…I could get addicted to it, you know.”

You’re helpless against him, your body putty in his skillful hands. Every touch, every press of his lips is sending electricity through your veins, lighting up your nerves. You’re so close to the edge, clinging to it desperately as Lando continues to drive you wild.

“Please, Lando, please,” you plead, your voice breathless, desperate. “I need you…I need you so much…I need…I need…”

“What do you need, love?” Lando murmurs, his fingers tracing a path up your inner thigh, dancing ever closer to where you need him most. “You’ll have to use your words, darling…I want to hear you say it…”

You let out a strangled moan, your body quivering with tension. “I need…I need you to touch me,” you finally manage to gasp out, your voice thick with need. “Please, Lando…make me feel good…I can’t take anymore…I can’t…”

Lando lets out a low growl at your words, his hand finally moving to where you need him most. His fingers dip between your folds, finding the sensitive bundle of nerves and stroking it lightly, making you shudder in ecstasy.

“You’re so damn wet, love,” he mutters, his voice rough with desire. “So goddamn responsive for me ... .I've just been touching you for a few minutes and you’re already falling apart in my arms “Feels…feels so good,” you gasp out, your body arching against his touch. Your senses are completely overwhelmed, your whole world narrowed down to the feeling of Lando’s fingers, the sound of his voice, the feel of his weight on top of you. Everything else is distant, hazy, and insignificant compared to him.

“That’s it, darling,” Lando murmurs, his fingers moving more quickly, his touch firmer. “Let go…I’ve got you…I’m right here…I’m gonna take care of you.”

His other hand is cupping your face, his thumb brushing over your cheek, his eyes fixed on yours, dark, possessive, intense.

“I need to feel you,” you gasp out between moans, your body clenching tight around his fingers. “Please, Lando…I want you…I need you….”

Lando’s breath hitches at your words, his eyes darkening even further. “God, you have no idea what you do to me,” he mutters, his voice shaking. “You’re goddamn perfect, you know that? Perfect and mine. All mine…”

“More,” you murmur, your body pleading for release. “Please, Lando, more…I need more….”

Lando’s thumb is circling over your clit, his fingers moving deeper, faster, driving you to the brink of insanity. “Is this enough, darling?” he asks, his voice rough but his touch still gentle. “Or do you need even more? Tell me what you want, love…I’ll give you whatever you need.

“You.” The word comes out barely coherent, but you manage to force it out in a gasp. “I want you. I need you. All of you. I can’t take this anymore, Lando. I can’t…please…please…please….”

Lando’s eyes widen at your words, a guttural moan escaping his lips. “Christ, darlin’,” he mutters, his voice tight with control, “you keep talking like that, and that’ll be over before it even starts.”

“Then don’t make me wait anymore,” you beg, your body trembling with need. “Please, Lando, I don’t think I can take it…I need to feel you…I need you now…”

Lando’s fingers continue their torturous rhythm, his other hand holding your face, forcing you to meet his gaze. You can see the struggle for control in his eyes, the tension in his body, the barely contained desire. He’s just as desperate as you are, just as needy

“Are you sure, darlin?” he asks, his voice strained with self-control. “Once I give you what you want, I won’t be able to stop. I won’t be able to hold back anymore…I’ll take you right here and now, just like you want…are you sure you’re ready for that…?”

You’ve never been more certain of anything in your life. You nod, the word tumbling out of you, pleading, desperate. “Yes. Yes. God, Lando…yes, I’m ready. More than ready. I want you, all of you. Now. Please…”

A guttural moan escapes Lando’s lips at your words, the sound raw and primal. “God, you’re going to be the death of me, darlin,” he mutters, his hands moving to your hips, gripping them as he positions himself between your legs. “But…goddammit…I’m not going to fight it anymore…”

He leans down, his lips claiming yours in a fierce, possessive kiss, his body pressed fully against yours. You can feel his need, his desire, his desperation mirrored in every movement, in every slide of his tongue against yours. His hands shift to your thighs, spreading your legs wider, aligning your bodies perfectly

“God, you’re gorgeous,” he mutters between kisses, his voice rough, hoarse with lust. “So goddamn perfect…all laid out for me…all mine.

His hips press against yours, the heat, the hardness of his arousal making you gasp against his lips. “I need you, darlin,” he mutters, his hands skimming up your sides, his touch sending sparks of heat through you. “I need you so damn much it hurts…I can’t hold back anymore…I can’t…”

“Then don’t,” you whisper, your body arching against his, pleading for him. “Please, Lando…don’t hold back anymore…I’m all yours…please…”

Lando lets out another guttural moan, his control finally snapping. “God, darlin, the things you do to me…goddamn…”

He shifts his weight, positioning himself at your entrance, the tension in his body like a coiled spring. “You sure about this, love? You’re sure?”

“I’m sure,” you murmur, your body aching with need, your heart filled with a certainty you’ve never felt before. “I’ve never been surer of anything in my life, Lando. I want you, goddammit, I need you…I’m yours…please…please…please….”

Your words are like a match to a fuse, igniting the last shred of his control. Lando lets out a guttural moan, his hands gripping your hips, his body tense, trembling with the effort of restraining himself. He takes a shaky breath, his blue eyes meeting yours, dilated with desire.

“You’re mine, darlin,” he repeats, his voice a hoarse whisper. “All mine.”

And with that, he finally surrenders to his need, his control shattered. His body sheathes itself within you, filling you, stretching you, claiming you in a way that’s primal and possessive and perfect. A moan tears from your throat, your body arching against his, sparks of pleasure dancing through you, igniting every nerve.

Lando lets out a guttural groan, his body shuddering against yours. “God, you feel so good,” he gasps out, his hands gripping your hips tightly. “So damn perfect…you’re going to be the death of me, darlin

Your world narrows down to the sensation of him within you, his body moving against yours, the feel of his hands, his mouth, his body on and around you. Your whole world is Lando: his breath against your skin, the taste of his neck, the feel of his body moving against yours.

“God, yes,” you gasp out between moans, your body meeting his every thrust, your hands tracing over his back, feeling the shifting muscles beneath your palms. “Lando…Lando…God, you feel so good…so perfect…

"Oh, lord have mercy-" you gasped your eyes rolling at the back of your head.

"Oh, he had plenty when he made you. My. fucking. Friend." Lando says between thrusts.

Lando’s words are like fuel to the fire, igniting a heat within you that’s almost primal, almost feral. You cling to him, your body quivering, your nails digging into his skin. He lets out another guttural moan, his body trembling with the effort of holding back, his restraint paper-thin.

"I don’t think I’m going to last much longer, darlin," he gasps out, his voice rough, strained. "You feel too good…too perfect…”

"Just let go, Lando," you breathe out, your voice hoarse, a plea, a command, a plea. "I want you to. Come for me…show me how good I make you feel…"

Lando’s body shudders at your words, his control finally, blissfully breaking. “Goddammit, darlin, you have no idea what you do to me,” he mutters, his voice a hoarse growl. “You drive me wild, love…god damn…I can’t…I can’t…”

He leans his forehead against yours, his eyes locked on yours, his body trembling, taut, quivering with tension. “Are you close, darlin?” he gasps out, his voice tight, strangled.

You nod, your body clenching around him, your hands clinging to his shoulders, your breaths coming in short, ragged gasps. “I…I’m so close, Lando,” you manage to gasp out, your eyes meeting his, filled with a mixture of pleasure and desperation.

Lando’s eyes darken at your words, a possessive, primal spark igniting in his gaze. “That’s it, darlin,” he murmurs, his body moving faster, harder, deeper, his breath coming in ragged gasps against your skin. “Let go for me. Let go for me…I want to feel you…I want to feel you come undone in my arms…”

You’re helpless to resist his pleas, your body quivering, ready to burst. His voice, his touch, his body, it’s all too much, too intense. You’re teetering on the edge, so close to the precipice, hanging on by a mere thread.

“L-Lando…” you manage to moan out, your voice shaky, breathless. “I’m…I’m…I’m…”

Lando’s body trembles with the effort of holding back, his restraint hanging on by a thread. “That’s it, darlin,” he gasps out, his voice ragged, tight. “Let go. Let go, darling. I’ve got you…I’ve got you”

The tension finally snaps, your body seizing up, a wave of ecstasy crashing over you like a wall of fire. You cry out, your nails digging into Lando’s back, your body shuddering with the force of your release.

Lando lets out a guttural moan at the feeling, his body tensing, his hips stuttering, his control finally, blissfully broken. “Goddammit, darlin,” he mutters, his voice a hoarse gasp. “That’s it…that’s it…I’m right there with you, darlin,” he gasps out, his body shuddering against yours, his release crashing over him like a tsunami. “Goddamn…you’ve got me completely wrecked, love…I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to recover.”

You cling to him, both of you trembling in the aftermath, holding onto each other for dear life. The room is filled with the sounds of your panting breaths, the thump of your heartbeats, the rustle of the sheets beneath you.

Lando’s arms wrap around you, his body pressing against yours, holding you tightly to him. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, his breath hot against your skin. He’s still shaking, still quivering with the aftershocks of the pleasure you’ve just experienced together.

"Goddamn, darlin," he mutters, his voice low, rough. "You wreck me. Every time. You completely wreck me."

You let out a soft, contented sigh, your body relaxing into his embrace. “That was…that was intense,” you murmur, your fingers tracing lazy circles over his back. “I don’t think I can feel my legs.”

Lando lets out a soft, hoarse chuckle at your words, the sound vibrating against your skin. “That’s what I was aiming for, darlin,” he mutters, his lips brushing over your neck. “I wanted to make sure you wouldn’t be able to walk straight for a few days.”

“You succeeded,” you say, a smile curving your lips, your body still tingling, still humming with the aftermath. “I don’t think I’m ever going to be the same after that.”

Lando lets out a soft, possessive moan at your words, his arms tightening around you. “Good,” he mutters, his lips moving over your skin, “because I plan on doing that to you again and again, darlin. Over and over. Until you can’t even remember your own name.”

You let out a soft, contented sigh, a shiver of anticipation running through you. “Is that a promise?” you murmur, your voice soft, sultry.

Lando lets out a low rumble of affirmation, his lips finding the sensitive spot behind your ear. “It’s a promise, darlin,” he whispers, his breath hot against your skin. “I’m going to keep you in bed for days, love. Until you forget everything except my name.”

You shiver at the possessive, primal note in his voice, the promise in his words. “You’re going to wear me out,” you murmur, your body already stirring with renewed desire.

Lando lets out another low rumble, his hands beginning to wander over your body, reigniting the fire between you. “That’s the plan, darlin,” he mutters, his lips moving down your neck, “to wear you out and then wear you out some more. I can’t get enough of you, love. I never will.”

You let out a soft, wanton moan, your body arching against his, your heart swelling with a mixture of pleasure and desire. “You’re insatiable,” you murmur, your fingers tangling in his hair.

"Only with you, darling . Only you,”

[archives-of-a-hidden-writer]

Something Else

Thanos / Choi Su-bong X Nonchalant!Cold!reader

》Typing... |

》 [Entry No.003 - Something Else]|

》 Loading Archive Entry "Something Else" |

》 Location of Entry: Archivial's |

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》 Summary: Sometimes, being too calm at intense situations and gaining a bit of attention, even if it's from someone who is too high for this bloody game.|

》 Warnings: Spoilers for Season 2 of Squid game until at least episode 3-4, occur during and before the 1st game, reader's number is 457 & choosing 'o' later on, implications of drug use, flirting, murder, blood, swearing, Thanos flirting with ji-woo before going after you. |

》 Archive Entry Loaded ◇

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You thought everything was messed up, as you had somehow gotten yourselves into this so-called 'Squid Games'.

You wake up in an unknown place filled with people you barely recognize. Although some gave a sense of familiarity, you didn't delve deeper into this feeling. You don't know what was happening after all, all you remember was playing ddakji with some salesman who definitely did not give you a suspicious feeling and gave you a weird card after the game, and then all of a sudden, you're here in this children-themed place. Now, you are being told to sign a waiver before playing a 'game'.

As everyone lined up to sign the paper, the one in front of you, who's number is one lower than you, seemed to be slower than the rest, seemingly actually reading the written rules before signing it.

Shrugging the man's intentions off, I signed the paper with a quick glance at the rules. It might be useful to me in the future, keyword, might.

As I finished signing mine, I walked off the line to go somewhere in the room, or the called dormitory. As this occurred, a ruckus was happening on the sideline as a purple-haired man attempted to punch another guy but was stopped by his friend.

You somehow recognized those two from social media, one known for making his fans invest in a crypto coin and the other being a rapper.

I just silently tsked at them before moving along, not noticing the gaze that followed me from the purple-haired dude, but it was soon averted as took noticed another girl.

■■■■

"Everyone please line-up one at a time," the announcement echoed through the labyrinth of a room as people, now called players, each took their turn standing in front of the monitor and taking a pic.

As you waited for your turn, another scene occurred with none other than the rapper from before as many approached him and started mentioning how much of a fan they were of him. He then called all of them to group-up and take a picture together, followed by the man calling the braided girl that you now noticed as player 196, but she rejected him. The whole ordeal was soon stopped by a pink guard nearby.

■■■■

As you reached the end of the labyrinth of stairs of a room, you and the players reached the seemingly 1st game.

An announcer soon welcomed you all before saying to wait as the game starts, Red light, Green light, the game is said. Everyone scoffed and snickered as the said game was a kids' game, but one man wasn't having it as he ran to the front and started screaming of how they would kill you if moved.

As the man screamed, you just raised an eyebrow at the player's antics, what a weird guy, but it wouldn't hurt to d whatever this crazed man says. But it seems a few were still snickering and joking at the man.

Soon, the game started, the child-like doll then started to turn and chanted 'Red light, green light'. Everyone started to move until the doll stopped speaking and turned its head at us. The man earlier screamed to freeze, no one moved.

The same thing repeated until mostly everyone reached the halfway mark.

As everyone froze, the few silent seconds were disrupted by a girl's scream as she spun around and moved before being followed by a gunshot and a thudding of a body. It was soon followed by another scream and gunshots as everyone who panicked and moved was shot and killed with the man from earlier screaming for everyone to not panic and freeze.

The real chaos and hell began.

■■■■

A few moments after the wave of deaths, everyone stood close to each other, lining themselves into lines to hide from the doll's detectors.

The plan somewhat worked, with a few getting detected and shot as they either failed to hide or accidentally moved.

It was once again disrupted as the purple-haired man had killed at least 3 players as he pushed them while the doll's head was still towards everyone. You scoffed at the man for killing others, but did you even have anything to say as the two of you met gaze before you looked away from him, focusing on the game at hand.

As you focused on the game, Thanos, the purple-haired man, couldn't remove his eyes from you. Unlike the other players, you were somehow a bit calmer than them, more eased at this as if it doesn't phase you one bit. It didn't help that he was, at this moment, had already taken his little candy and is over his own head. You were really something.

■■■■

Soon enough, mostly everyone got through the line, and now everyone can finally have a breather as they survived.

Everyone was then brought back to the dormitory, pretty shaken up by the game given to them. Well, everyone but you and some few players, you were pretty shaken up as well, but not to the point you looked like you just went to an actual war field.

As you do your own thing on your bunk bed, Thanos had his gaze on you from the other side. 'Player 457... You're...' "Something else..." he muttered his thoughts as his pupils twitched, looking around before seemingly coming back to you. His looked over to him and asked if he was alright. He answered that he's alright in english, earning a confused look from his friend.

Despite barely meeting nor talking to you like what he did with player 196, he seemed to be just as smitten at you. But could he even manage to muster his hyped feelings before the games take his life?

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》 Archiver's Notes: A short something for someone, @sukratyaropia24 , as a fellow squid game watcher and heavy on Thanos aka T.O.P. Had to skip the majority of what happened during the first game. Apologies for that.

[kawoala]

DRIVEN BY ADRENALINE suna rintarou. chapter 004 ; jailbird.

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২ 𓂅 ࣪ ೨ ; 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 (1,033)

২ 𓂅 ࣪ ೨ ; 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 (bailing someone out of jail, runa being upset but only bc she loves her cousin, flirty! suna AGAIN, tiny bit of arguing, kind of also a filler :/)

There are many perks of having a roommate. For example, you’re no longer alone. Now, when you stay up late, there is someone keeping you company, making you laugh and swapping war stories with you.

Just as there are perks, there are bad things as well. For example, you can hear everything that goes on. Including when Runa gets a phone call in the middle of the night, despite her phone being silent.

“Hello?” Her voice groggy, sleep still coating her throat. She pauses, then clears her throat. “Rin? What are—“ she stops talking, or she’s cut off. You roll over in bed and face her. “Oh, okay, yeah. Yeah, I’ll be there in a minute. Okay, yeah, love you too.”

She glances at you and, even in the dark, she can see your eyes open. “Sorry,” she apologizes in a whisper. “Rin called me. He, um, got arrested. Again.”

You blink a couple times, your tiredness suddenly gone. You sit up at the same time she does. “Again?” You repeat. You watch her slip on her shoes, forgetting about even needing socks. “Are you going to bail him out?”

“Yeah,” she says, standing up and rushing to put a coat on. “I’m sorry I woke you up. I’ll be back in a bit.”

“Um, wait.” She stops, but you can see the urgency in her eyes. “Can I go with you? I don’t mean to be codependent, or whatever, but, um.”

She sighs, pressing the palm of her hand against her forehead, then nods. “Yeah,” she says, nodding. “Yeah, you can come. Just, uh, hurry up. Please.”

Suddenly, all the years of people calling you weird for sleeping in socks are thrown out the window. All you have to do is slip on some shoes. Thanks to the extremely cold AC in your building, you’re already in a hoodie and sweatpants.

The streets are practically empty as Runa drives down them. That’s to be expected, though, since it’s nearly three o’clock in the morning on a Tuesday. She opts out of playing music. Her knuckles are white as they grip the steering wheel. You wonder how many times she’s done this before. 

You’ve never been to a police station. Actually, that’s a lie. You went on a field trip in middle school— the first and last time you’d ever been inside one. You don’t know how bailing someone out works, either, but Runa looks familiar with the process, so you just follow her.

The police station is quiet— unexpectedly so. You spent years of your childhood watching police shows, so you expected it to be a little more rowdy than a homeless man and a sobbing teenage girl. It’s colder than you expected, too. Even though you’re wearing a hoodie, you still have to wrap your arms around yourself.

The woman at the front desk seems familiar with Runa. They talk in hushed voices for a minute or two, and then Runa gestures for you to follow her. You glance back at the desk woman, but she’s typing away at her computer once again, seemingly honed in on whatever.

You follow Runa to what you assume is the back of the station. There are jail cells lined up against the wall, but most of them are empty. You stop at the last one and a quiet gasp leaves your mouth at the sight.

It’s Rin, but he’s hunched over, elbows on his knees, head in his hands. His knuckles are visibly bruised and you think there might be blood staining his shirt. He looks up at the absence of further footsteps. His eyes are red.

“You’re an idiot,” Runa says, crossing her arms over her chest.

His eyes flicker from her to you and you wave. “Hi, Rin.”

“I mean—“ She scoffs. “This is, what, the third time in as many months? Get it together, Rin! Like, what were you thinking? You know how much this costs me?”

“Costs you?” Rin repeats, scoffing as he now stands up. “I pay you back every time, don’t even.”

She clamps her jaw shut, and you know it’s because she’s too angry to speak. She glances back and waves her hand. The next thing you know, Rin is standing next to you and Runa.

You’re quiet, because what else are you supposed to do? Runa and Rin keep glaring at each other and, for a brief moment, you think they’re communicating telepathically. Rin looks at you, a small smirk on his face, and you look away.

This was a bad idea.

When you finally leave, something occurs to you. Where are you supposed to sit now? The front seat or the back seat? Rin is her cousin, but she’s mad at him, so maybe she’ll make him sit in the back? Your feet seem to stutter and you trip a bit, catching yourself before you can hit the ground. Rin and Runa look back, brows furrowed, but you clear your throat and shrug.

And then Runa solves all your problems by getting in the passenger seat. Rin is driving, got it. You get in the backseat and sit behind Rin.

This is ridiculous. The car ride is quiet. You can practically see steam coming off of Runa. Rin is driving with one hand. Your head is swimming. You stare out the window and look at the houses as you pass them.

Rin drives to his house and, before he leaves, he walks over to your side of the car and leans down into the window. “You came with her.”

You shrug, wringing your fingers in your lap. “I’ve never been to a police station before.” It’s an excuse, you know he knows. “And I was bored.”

“You were sleeping,” he hums out. “I think,” he leans closer, now whispering, “you just wanted to see me.”

“What?” Your face heats up, eyes widening a bit. “That’s— I didn’t— Runa was just—“

He laughs and smacks the roof of the car. “I’ll see you guys later, yeah?” He looks at Runa and stops laughing. “I’m sorry, Runie. I’ll pay you back tomorrow.”

“Yeah, whatever.” She rolls her eyes. She puts the car in drive and drives off.

@sahrii , @cherrysurf , @heartmaddie , @jpegarchives , @massacremars

@vertejay , @tiramizuloz , @gumims , @mybelovedvi , @chaotic-neutral-ig

@usbrous , @iheartamora , @iluv-ace , @xavlyzn , @velvetreds

@mysticstrawberryballoon , @h0n3y-l3m0n05 , @aethersluvrr , @smiithys , @rriwyu

@twiishaa , @kissingkzuha

[bloodmoonmuses]

mediocre party crashers: the x-mas special! | mark lee

read part one here! genre: mark lee x reader, fluff

summary: Your message in a bottle has found his way back to you. You hope the tide wasn’t too bad. or You and Mark are reunited at a corporate holiday party.

Crashing parties has now become a hobby of yours. A real, habitual thing with methods and strategies and memories… From galas, to masquerade balls, frat parties and the occasional wedding, it’s safe to say you’re a pro. 

Your identity is something you’ve made malleable and mutable. Everchanging and morphing. Slowly shifting like a mood ring. You’re everyone and no one at the same time. You’re a paradox. And even in all the grandiose you’ve experienced, your absolute favorite type of party to crash was corporate holiday parties. They’re no-man’s land, really. The gaudy festiveness of them coupled with hollow smiles. The hum of a near broken radiator and a shitty karaoke machine. Lukewarm instant hot cocoa made with water instead of milk. 

The atmosphere is electric in the weirdest way- so palpable to be shrouded in such greyish mundanity. 

Tonight is no more different than many of your other outings. You and your partner in crime, Ningning, lock elbows as you wander around an office building. You had fought for an hour about what’s appropriate to wear to an office party (which resulted in you having to unpack Ningning’s understanding of an office siren. “-I wanna look hot!” she had said. To which you replied, “Time and place. We’re not amateurs anymore.”)

And so here you are, clad in an itchy sweater and pencil skirt, scouting out the scenery of some podunk town’s marketing firm. The manager has seemingly insisted on not updating any of the technology, filing cabinets lining the walls and chunky monitors on the cubicle desks. Tinsel has been strewn gingerly on a real fir tree, and plastic tablecloths cover foldable tables. Wrapping paper has been taped along the back of the cubicle walls to give the office a festive feeling. 

“Ugh,” says Ningning, as the two of you load up paper plates with homemade desserts. (Banana pudding for you. Caramel cake for Ningning.) “Fluorescent lighting.” Then, as if on cue, the bulb above her begins to flicker. Then she says, “Let’s mingle.”

You sidle up to a sharply dressed man, who you assume is the owner of the firm based on the wayward glances of the other attendees. He introduces himself as Doyoung and eyes you curiously. “Do I know you?”

“A friend of a friend… of a friend,” you say. “Here for moral support. How were the quarter four stats?” A classic diversion.

“Good enough for Christmas bonuses for the first time in three years. Finally bounced back from Covid.” Greyish mundanity, but the most beautiful variation of it. Will persevering through catastrophe. The human tendency to endure and endure together.

“Well, that’s good to hear,” you say. And you mean it.

“Cheers to the new year?” says Doyoung, extending a paper cup with snowflakes on it in your direction.

“Cheers indeed.” 

The night progresses with twinkling optimism. You like intertwining yourself in people’s life stories. Hearing about their kids, the new boutique that’s opening on the square, or how some of the upper management can be real assholes. Small talk and human connection. Contentedness wafting off warm bodies. 

“We were nearly snowed out,” says an older gentleman, who you’d think were cute if not for the hideous mustache adorning his face. He had just regaled you with the details of planning this highbrow shindig. “And who are you again?”

However, you’re too distracted to answer him, having now noticed a suspiciously young-looking guy assembling a cup of cocoa. As you walk up to the table, he shifts to the left, giving you access to the other side of it. Through your periphery, he seems familiar, but you can’t seem to place him.

“This might sound weird-”

“Do I know you? -” You begin speaking at the same time. When the two of you make eye contact, both of you are stricken with recognition. Mark Lee.

“No way. Preppie!” he exclaims, putting his cup down and scooping you into an embrace.

“Preppie? That’s what you remember me as?”

He pulls back from the hug and scans your features, almost as if to confirm his eyes aren’t deceiving him. “From that yacht party, like, a year ago. You never texted me back!”

“I didn’t text you back? You never texted me!” you counter.

“Here, I’ll show you.” Mark takes out his phone, scrolls for a bit, then shows you an unanswered text message from a year ago. 

July 25, 2023

Mark: Sooo…. How about that rodeo party? [unopened]

Upon closer inspection, however, you see your number is incorrect.

“It’s an 8 at the end, not a 9.” you respond, taking his phone and updating your contact without question.

“I thought you got creeped out or something,” Mark says, sighing in relief as enter the number. When you’re done, he asks, “How have you been? What are you doing here?”

“Fine. Good. Ning and I have basically hit up all the companies in the city this year, so we figured we’d try the ‘burbs. Gotta love a company Christmas Party.” He nods in agreement. “You look dapper,” you add. 

He’s wearing a slate gray suit and a holly-printed tie.

“A little overdressed. It’s my wedding suit,” says Mark. “You look…”

“Like a middle-aged salary worker?”

“I was gonna say cozy.”

“Right.”

Suddenly, Ningning walks up from behind, poking your ribs with her fingers. “ Hey, nerd, they’re gonna play Pin the Nose on the Reindeer! First place gets a $20 Target gift card!” Then, when she notices Mark, she says, “Oh! Hey, Bottle Boy.”

You glare at her. How does she even remember him?

Mark’s face twists in confusion as he asks, “What does that mean?”

“Nothing!” you shout. Mark shrugs and shuffles off to join the festivities. Before she can walk away, you yank Ningning by the elbow and whisper into her ear. “Ningning, you did read my journal!?”

“Perhaps I’ve been a part of one of his lifetimes- a message in a bottle finally surfacing on a beach’s shore. I believed in the existence of fate, but only for a night..” she says, mocking you as she recites lines from your diary like a monologue.

“You’re the worst,” you sigh, facepalming. You remind yourself to change the hiding spot for your journal…

“What happened with that whole situation, anyway? Hasn’t it been over a year?” asks Ningning.

“Gave him the wrong number, apparently.”

She scoffs, taking your elbow in hers once more. “You idiot.”

“I know.”

When you walk into the conference room where the game is being held, you notice Mark lingering in the doorway at the back of it. You make your way to him slowly, trying not to look too excited when you catch his eye and he promptly smiles.

“I’m dyingggg to see them play this game,” says Mark, watching as Doyoung gets a blindfold tied over his eyes.

Then, again, Ningning appears out of nowhere. “Don’t look up!” she exclaims to the both of you.

And, of course, the two of you do. Placed squarely above the door frame is a mistletoe, now glaringly obvious as you look at it with your neck craned. Mark stifles a cough and you feel the back of your neck heat up.

Mark looks at you nervously. “Uh, are you a mistletoe observer?”

“‘Mistletoe Observer’? Why are you asking like it’s a religious practice?” you ask.

Mark shrugs and says, “I dunno, man! Just trying to be respectful!”

“Respectful? It’s an arbitrary tradition. Are you a mistletoe observer?” you retort, half-joking. But Mark looks at you with such intensity, if only for half a second, that it knocks the air out of your lungs.

“I mean," he starts, already regretting his words and looking at his feet, “I’m not not a mistletoe observer…”

“You can’t keep saying ‘mistletoe observer’ and acting like it’s a thing.”

Mark pouts. “So we’re not about to kiss right now?”

You grab Mark’s stupid tie and pull him closer, giggling as the smirk is wiped off his face. 

Then you kiss him, melting into it like snow in the morning sun. Mark’s hands come up to grasp your face, deepening the fervor of the display of affection. You’re awestruck. Your message in a bottle has found his way back to you. 

You hope the tide wasn’t too bad.

When the kiss comes to an end and you open your eyes, you see and hear the rest of the partygoers cheering you on. Ningning has snapped a photo with her digital camera. Doyoung pipes up, still blindfolded and ready for the game.  “What’s happening? Are we playing the game or not?”

a/n: merry christmas and happy holidays! hope you enjoyed!

[lionwitch]

after my Tim Edits Reality post, I haven't been able to stop thinking about Frankie (the dog) and though he remembers just editing her into his life, what he edits is more like the space-time continuum, so his parents remember getting her for him. And I haven't been able to stop thinking of like

Little kid Tim, trying to get his parents to stay longer: mom, I'm so lonely...!

Janet: oh sweetheart, I know. But we have work, you know that.

Tim: but I'm all alone in this big house... It's so lonely and scary...

Janet: you're right, Tim. I'm sorry about that, sweetheart. I'll see what I can do.

Tim thinks his mom is going to try and stay. That same night she arrives with a Border Collie puppy.

Janet: look, Tim. So you won't be so lonely while your father and I are away. You can train her, and you can play together. Just make sure you take care of you both and clean after her, ok?

Tim, torn between sad his mom isn't staying and happy he now has a puppy: ok, mama. Thank you.

Now I love Frankie, and I love giving the batfam an animal companion. So far, through my fics, it's as follows:

Lettuce the Crow for Jason (not yet written, but will be appearing soon) in "Tim's a weirdo, but he's our weird— Jason, what do you mean you have a child!?" (my Dragon!Tim and dad!Jay fic)

Promise the Kitten for Dick in Shadows of New Beginnings (my dad!Dick fic)

And I will be adding Frankie to my Howling at the River fic (secretly married musician!Tim)

Plus of course Alfred and Titus play a big role for Damian in Of Beliefs and Devotion (part of my dragon Tim au, but focused on witch worshipping Damian/magic Damian)

When I write my magic user Janet au, you best believe she'll have a familiar too, maybe an owl or even a small magical creature

that's it, thank you, I was ranting. It's 6am and I didn't sleep to write Howling at the River

Happy to provide links if you want, after I've slept

[canisbrutus]

Hey I really like your headcanons !!! What’s your view on the main three’s relationship with each other?

why thank ya, color me flattered lol. let me see.. this will be Long

Gary & Jimmy 🐍🐕

tragic doomed toxic yaoi etc etc

ultimately they're two sides of the same coin, opposite eachother in a way. both are simultaneously victims and perpetrators, though they differ in motive and response

while jimmy might be too daft to realize, gary knows this and absolutely hates it.

like a fine mix of admiration jealousy and spite

jimmy meanwhile is just fed up his bullshit

but at the same time he doesnt *hate* him.

jimmy doesnt really hate anyone tbh hes just easily pissed off

after the betrayal jimmy is annoyed at best and personally hurt at worst. but he can shrug it off with ease. he doesnt hold grudges

which is yet another thing that drives gary nuts

before the betrayal though. jimmy made gary feel Weird. jimmy's too genuine. too upfront. too honest. Too Real.

he took their friendship seriously. very very few people willingly stood beside gary, minus petey who we'll get to later

and that made him ? scared. confused even. absolutely nobody could be equal with him. even if he liked their relationship

anyway. this vvv

Petey & Gary 🐇🐍

petey primarily hung around gary because he was familiar and it was better than being alone, yes.

but also, these two go back a fair ways. like elementary.

as such, petey knows more about gary than he would like him to.

gary has been through a Lot. he's also Lost a Lot.

petey is one of the few 'things' he has left that really means anything to him.

or. he was, anyway. before the betrayal

shortly after the fight in the pit he got in an argument with gary. cut him deep where it hurts. mentioned something he maybe shouldnt have.

got beaten bloody and thrown away. and gary devolved from there.

despite this petey doesnt really hold it against him either

there's some guilt to him. perhaps a bit of self loathing.

but he couldnt approach gary on his own. his nerves were too shot.

sure gary threw his friend jimmy to russell. and sure gary's been picking on him for years at this point. but to beat the shit out of him, his best friend, after he's stayed with him for just about a decade?

he couldnt trust him again

he hardly trusted him to begin with honestly, gary had been beating him down and making sure he knew whatever prior cuts he made at him didnt hurt in the slightest before.

thankfully jimmy isnt as sensitive as he is.

~~~~~

Jimmy & Petey 🐕🐇

poor kids. two peas in a pod thrown under the bus

petey may have been apprehensive of jimmy at first, due to his general attitude and knack for mayhem.

but as time passed jimmy showed his true colors and proved to be a Good person (if prone to manipulation)

it wasnt long before petey started to trust him more than gary. and after the betrayal, jimmy was all he really had.

(admittedly he did try to join the nerds but earnest called him a faggot and said no)

petey isnt meek. he isn't soft. his venom is often dwarfed by everyone else's, but he still holds a rage. even if he keeps it inside. part of him did want to get back at gary. but another part still felt concern for his old friend spiraling like mad. even moreso considering he pushed him the way he did, with that argument mentioned.

im saying this ^ bc he felt an obligation to advise jimmy on what to do, especially regarding gary. hoping he could get him calmed tf down so they could go back to normal, as friends, again.

but they werent particularly close. kinda like business partners. jimmy blowing him off half the time didnt help matters.

but again. petey didnt have anyone else.

just a poor guy caught in the middle of their homoerotic rivalry

~~~~~

i have so many lores for these stupid cunts.

anyway reminder that my inbox is open for requests in general. woof

[castdust]

please come home.

✩ pairing : yoonchae jeung x best-friend!reader

✩about : going back home was just a perfect gift and surprise for yoonchae

✩ genre : fluff

✩ a/n : platonic relationship !! | 1108 words

♫ playing : please come home for christmas by grentperez.

You adjust the angle of your phone, propping it against the books on your dorm desk so it doesn’t fall. Your laptop glows beside you, the half-finished paper glaring back like a judgmental friend. The cursor blinks at you, urging you to focus, but it’s impossible to concentrate when Yoonchae’s voice bubbles through the screen.

“…And then I went to this cute little café in Beacon Hill,” she says, her excitement contagious even through the pixels. “They had this cranberry-orange scone that could put all of those boxed pastries at your cafeteria to shame.”

You chuckle, spinning a pen idly between your fingers. “That’s not a high bar, Chae. You could give me stale bread, and it’d taste better than anything they serve here.”

Yoonchae leans closer to her screen, her hair bouncing as she moves. Behind her, the familiar coziness of her room glows softly. Golden fairy lights strung across her wall twinkle, a fuzzy blanket drapes lazily over her bed, and in the corner, the faint glimmer of a Christmas tree reminds you of home.

You swallow against the knot forming in your throat.

“You sound like you’re in terrible need of good food and fresh air,” Yoonchae teases, resting her chin on her hand. “Seriously, when’s the last time you saw a tree?”

“Does the fake one in the common room count?”

Yoonchae groans, throwing her head back dramatically. “That’s tragic. You’ve been in that stuffy dorm too long. You need sunlight, human connection—Christmas!”

You laugh, but there’s an ache beneath it. Every conversation about home makes it harder to keep the secret you’ve been holding so tightly.

“College life,” you say lightly, twirling your pen. “They give us three weeks off, and half of that’s eaten up by finals and travel time. It’s not exactly a winter wonderland here.”

“But you could come home,” Yoonchae presses, her voice softening. “It’s been a whole year, you know? You missed last Christmas because of that awful schedule. I know it’s not easy, but… it’s not the same without you here.”

Her words hit you hard, sharp like cold air, yet warming in their honesty. Yoonchae has never been one to dance around feelings, and her blunt sincerity always finds a way to your heart.

You stare at your laptop, pretending to focus on the blinking cursor, but your mind spins—not with guilt, but with the excitement of what Yoonchae doesn’t know.

“I wish I could,” you say, feigning a sigh. “But it’s just not realistic. Plane tickets are insane right now, and with everything going on here, I don’t think I could pull it off.”

“Ugh, I hate that,” Yoonchae says, her voice quieter now. “I mean, I get it, but I just… I really miss you. And not just for the Christmas traditions or whatever. I miss you.”

Your chest tightens, and a small smile pulls at your lips. Yoonchae’s always been this way—blunt, caring, and loyal in a way that makes distance feel unbearable.

“I miss you too,” you admit softly.

The silence that follows isn’t awkward. It’s warm, filled with things neither of you needs to say aloud.

Eventually, Yoonchae breaks it, her tone brightening. “Anyway, enough about my feelings. What’s going on with you? Besides drowning in schoolwork, obviously.”

You grin, grateful for the shift. “Not much. Unless you count discovering that my professor has an alarming obsession with cheese analogies.”

“Cheese?” Yoonchae arches a brow.

“Yeah. Like, ‘Writing a thesis is like aging a fine cheddar.’ I don’t know if it’s supposed to be motivational or just… weird.”

She bursts out laughing, the sound so pure and joyful it makes you laugh, too.

“Oh my god, only you would end up with a professor like that,” Yoonchae wheezes.

“Lucky me,” you say dryly.

The conversation drifts from there, like it always does. She tells you about Boston, about running into an old high school friend, and about how her little brother has already eaten half the Christmas cookies their mom baked.

The whole time, you keep your secret close, waiting for the moment it’ll reveal itself—not now, but soon.

When the call finally ends, you lean back in your chair, staring at the dark phone screen. Your cheeks hurt from smiling, but your heart feels fuller than it has in weeks.

You glance at the plane ticket sitting on your desk, the edges curled slightly from being folded and unfolded so many times. In less than twelve hours, you’ll be on your way home.

The next evening, you stand on Yoonchae’s front porch, your duffel bag slung over one shoulder. The air is crisp, sharp against your cheeks, and your breath clouds faintly in the glow of the porch light.

Inside, you can hear muffled voices, the hum of holiday music, and the faint clatter of dishes. It’s exactly as you remember—slightly chaotic, but warm and welcoming in a way no dorm room could ever replicate.

You hesitate for a second, nerves and anticipation swirling in your chest. Then you raise your hand and knock.

It takes only a moment before the door swings open. Yoonchae stands there in fuzzy socks and an oversized sweater, her hair slightly messy and her expression confused at first.

“Hi,” you say, your grin sheepish.

For a beat, Yoonchae just stares at you, her eyes wide, her mouth opening and closing without sound.

“Y/N?” she finally manages, her voice higher than usual.

“The one and only,” you say, stepping forward. “Surprise.”

A half-laugh, half-gasp escapes her before she launches herself at you, arms wrapping tight around your shoulders. Your bag nearly slips from your hand, but you don’t care—you hug her back just as tightly.

“You’re here!” Yoonchae exclaims, pulling back enough to look at you. “You’re actually here! How? When? Why didn’t you tell me?”

You laugh, the sound muffled against her shoulder. “I wanted to surprise you. Figured it was about time I came home for Christmas.”

She shakes her head, her eyes bright with unshed tears. “You’re ridiculous. But this is the best surprise ever.”

“Good,” you say, your smile widening. “Because I’ve got a whole week to make up for last year.”

She grins, grabbing your hand and pulling you inside. “Come on. Mom’s going to lose her mind when she sees you. And you’re not escaping cookie decorating. We’re doing that tonight.”

You let yourself be tugged into the warmth of the house, the scents of cinnamon and pine wrapping around you like a hug. Your heart feels light, your worries left behind.

It’s good to be home. For the first time in a long time, everything feels right.

[mydaystan]

so mh hi guess who’s back (day6) (day6 is back)

[oaksapling]

Ransom Greyson,

6'8 dhampir tattoo artist with daddy issues. recently lost his mother and decided to move to new york san myshuno from new orleans willow creek to find his deadbeat vampire father. goes back and forth on whether or not this was a good decision but well. he's pretty much broke now, so it is what it is.

[icewindandboringhorror]

I occasionally wish to reach out to old friends/acquaintances I haven't spoken to since high school/some other even earlier time in my life, but I have SOOO little social energy even for required tasks (like making dr phone calls or etc), I never have any leftover for extra ones, and it would be very odd to message someone I haven't spoken to in like 5 years out of the blue but then take 4 entire months to respond back lol.. My natural curiosity with nostalgia/collecting details of the past/etc. (literally if I were born a little earlier I would definitely do scrapbooking or something lol) is very strong, but, alas, not strong enough to beat out the Social Issues Demons apparently

[luck-of-the-drawings]

THE BOYS ARE BACK IN TOWN (TO GET SPLATTERED) OOH MYSTERY! PANIC! DRAMA! EMOTIONS!! LOTS N LOTS OF MEAT, SCARES, AND DICK-OUT FUN! BLOOD IN THE BAYOU HAS GOT IT ALL BABY!!!

blood in the bayou would make SUUUCh a great campy horror movie, its real in my heart, so real.....

[sysig]

That’s not- y’know what, that’s probably an easier explanation actually (Patreon)

[jrueships]

BTW this is not to anyone, it's just a general i wanna just say Thang, calling people BUT MEN ESPECIALLY 'mother' or like 'my wife' my girlfriend u know u know. im not sayin the spicier examples.

does NOT , listen, N O T A L W A Y S mean

THEY ARE A BOTTOM!!!!!!!!! (The kind of bottom I'm talking about is the simplified, singular watered down version usually straight (eerily) young people love to throw away as an 'insult'. Which just emphasizes what im intending here.)

that perpetuates an already problematic perpetuated mindset THAT CAN NOT JUST BE 'AUTOMATICALLY EXCLUDED' just because IT ISN'T BEING USED IN THE CONTEXT IT ORIGINATED FROM. Serge ibaka is mother. DeMar is mother. But they also be bangin out bratty ass mfs on a daily basis like the shit is clockwork. Both can be done. that is all i wanted to get out there. ty. gootbye

[chiropteracupola]

PAUL BETTANY? BLOND PAUL BETTANY?? BLOND FUCKBOY PAUL BETTANY???

[xcziel]

feeling nostalgic and watching utube reactors discover classic songs and then feeling both old and incredulous