#redoing it one final time I GUESS

[beetlejuce]

this one fucking gifset that’s been in and out of my drafts for months now because I keep feeling the need to redo the coloring every time my gifmaking process changes

[marerittaktig]

the two newest mid-season cures fused together, cure royale!

...but now the question remains: is she purple?

[kaidanalenkosprmanager]

THE BEST OF ATTICAN TRAVERSE: KROGAN TEAM

Featuring: Cmdr. Sophie Shepard, Lt. James Vega, EDI, and Urdnot Grunt With: Urdnot Wrex, Dr. Mordin Solus, Primarch Adrien Victus and The Rachni Queen I don't need luck- I have ammo. Mass Effect 3: Legendary Edition (2021)

[shieldofmen]

Mind the cracks

(They’ll heal eventually)

[ainecdote]

.

[wp100]

the way xal'atath hasn't ever touched alleria yet has floated right up into her face and whispered into her ear right behind her... wow

[inbabylontheywept]

the house i grew up in was a little bit of a fixer upper. for the first 19 years, my dad just sort of slowly fixed it, but pretty early on in college, he came into a large amount of cash and decided to just do the whole thing at once. so he rented a different house for like, 2 months that was just a block down from us, and then got a bunch of contractors to fix original house ASAP. it was kind of crazy, but it compressed many years of work into like, three months.

the sitting in a new house for three months was actually pretty fun. and i shouldnt really complain at all (staying at home while in college is a sweet deal)

but.

but. my parents are fairly hard of hearing, and their bedroom in the old house was in the furthest possible annex from everyone else. wheras in the rental it was just in the middle of the house. so without going into details, i was extremely aware that my parents were having sex like, eight times a day. my dad had just retired and i guess they were celebrating, which is great i guess, having parents that really like each other is way better than the alternative, but also, it did make me envy their deafness. i kept headphones on for so long that year i got literal ear calluses.

at the same time, the house my buddy from the shoe incident grew up in flooded. turbo flooded. they burst like, two pipes at once and the damage was so severe they had to redo all the flooring and all the drywall. his family actually had homeowners insurance, which is either incredible or suspicious for a family that used the drained pool in their backyard to store rusty scrap metal. so insurance was handling the work, but in the meantime, they were crammed into a very small hotel room space. we did the math on it then, it averaged about 80 square feet a person.

so one day i got home, and i was chilling, and then six rolled around, and apparently six o'clock was sex o'clock because my parents decided to flex their cardio. i grabbed my headphones and prayed that god would do for me what he did for beethoven, but that failed to work, and then seven rolled around and my parents were still at it, which again, very impressive, but was pushing me to swap out judas for mozart in those prayers. there's a definitive point where you stop praying to be deaf and instead pray that god could take you to a nice field and pop you like a gore-balloon.

i was about five minutes away from that point when my friend called me and basically said i have been stuck in a 500 square foot space with 6 people and i didn't have many marbles to start but what few i had are gone. please. if we are friends, if we were ever friends, take me out of here just for a moment.

and i was still pretty mad at him, but i had pity on the poor guy. also helped that i was desperate to leave the house. so i drove the chickenshitmobile to the hotel and i picked him up, and then we did our normal hangout activity, which was go to food city and buy produce. his normal house was, on a good day, nasty, and his backyard was, as i stated before, mostly used to store mosquito larvae and rusty metal, so what we'd always done before was just walk to the grocery store a half block away and leer at vegetables.

so we did that and it was like old times again. they had some radishes that were expired, so i could buy like, literally an entire grocery bag of them for about $5. so i did. i really like radishes. he got a coconut because he liked fruit and beating things with hammers.

which probably would've been great except we didn't have a hammer, so instead we spent about 30 minutes stomping itike it owed us money. when it finally cracked we cheered like we just got the winning touchball at the superdome and then he ate some of the flesh, and i ate some of the radishes, and we admired the black, starless sky of the city before i took him back to his hotel room.

and then we got pulled over.

i forgot to turn my lights on because the street all around the food city was ludicrously well lit. so it went from being pretty bright, to pretty bright and flashy, then i pulled into a parking lot and a cop came to ask us for IDs which is where everything went to shit:

i’d forgotten my license at home. 

the cop was was actually kind of chill about it - he said he could get by with just an address. except i did not know my address. i hadn't memorized the new one yet. so i told the cop, my house is getting remodeled, i don't know my address right now. and then he went to my friend, and my friend said the exact same thing. house getting remodeled, staying somewhere else, no address, sowwwwwwy.

now the cop genuinely didn't know what to do. he went back to his car, and i was stressed that i was about to get into HUGE trouble so i started eating the radishes and my buddy started eating more of his coconut, and we actually managed to eat like a quarter of both before the cop came back. we ate enough produce that he could smell something weird in the air, and he asked what the smell was, and i said radishes, and my buddy said coconut, and the cop said which, and then we produced a large bag of droopy radishes and an absolutely brutalized coconut, and the cop was just like

so my buddy tried explaining how he was sharing a 500 square foot apartment with 6 people and wanted a fruit he could fight with power tools, and i tried explaining how i'd actually tried buying my parents like, board games and puzzles and stuff but nothing worked - the only thing my parents seemed to like doing right now was each other, and we both went on long enough and pathetically enough that the cop eventually went:

ok. stop.

and we stopped.

and he said do you know why i pulled you over?

and i said, because of my headlights, and my friend (who is hispanic) and the cop both looked at me like like i was the dumbest person in the entire world. and then the cop said no. that's why i'm allowed to pull you over. i checked your car because this neighborhood has a terrible sex trafficking problem, and i pull over every car i can to make sure no one is buying or selling sex. and you two are obviously doing neither. now i could give you, like, four tickets right now, but that would do nothing to make this area safer, so just turn your lights on, go home, drive safe, and try to be less stupid in the future.

and i said okay but i was thinking, you know, damn, this is just how i live man, i don't have a hidden third gear i can shift into. people can't just get smarter because it would be convenient. it's always convenient to be smart. i am literally trying my best.

but i didn't say anything because i was, slowly, learning how to filter what i said. instead i nodded and the cop left then i dropped my buddy off, and the last thing he said was said he owed me for responding to his SOS. I said he owed me for a lot of things, and he agreed that was true. then i drove home with my lights on, 5 under the speed limit, and arrived to a peaceful quiet home. I could’ve wept with relief but instead I went to bed.

the relief was short lived. i was woken up at 6 am by my parents. i swore, and then i prayed, and when i did not explode, i swore again. then i got up to make breakfast before my first class.

[natpetersoncore]

dentists count your fucking days

[pallases]

why am i abt to run this calibration a Third time

[charliemwrites]

Men At Work - Part 3

I know this has been a little slow to start, but things should progress a little more quickly from here. I wanted to establish some of the groundwork for this weird dynamic they all have but unfortunately, these men don't know the meaning of slow, even in my own head.

No Content Warnings

“How are the repairs going?” you ask.

It’s just Nikto today, returning your Tupperware from dinner the other night. He’s covered head to toe once again, all that’s visible are those glass blue eyes. One way mirrors - hiding everything beneath the surface.

They remind you of… something. 

Hmm. When you figure it out, they’re sure to make an appearance in your next novel.

“On track,” he answers in that sharp, staccato way you’re learning is just his way.

Unfortunately for him, that just makes you more curious. You know it’s a bit obnoxious - you’re not entitled to information, you know that. And most of the time you curb the inquiries tapping at the back of your teeth. But he’s in your house, snuggling your traumatized cat. If he’s got a problem answering casual questions, you’re certain he’ll have no problem letting you know.

“You’re redoing the whole thing?”

“Most of it. Foundation is good. The rest - дерьмо.”

You don’t know a lick of Russian, but you can guess.

“Good bones,” you hum in understanding. As if you know anything about construction. “That helps. When do you think it will be done?”

He shifts, sharp eyes flicking between your busy hands, the door, and Rasputin holding him lovingly hostage.

Little guy is currently perched on your shoulder, face buried against your collar in abject despair that his bestest friend hasn’t come to visit. Shithead is poaching (or attempting to, anyway) the sandwiches you’re assembling. So far, she’s only swishing her tail, biding her time. You’re keeping an eye on her.

“Two months. Three if any of us are called.”

You hum, reach for the tomatoes. It’s only because you’re looking at him that you notice the slightest twitch around his eyes. Beneath his mask, you’d bet he’s scrunching his nose.

“No?”

“I will eat.”

You leave the tomatoes off. Guy mews sadly, you tilt your head to press a kiss to his little ear.

“So, two or three months. Krueger said you’ll move in then.”

“Da.”

You top the sandwiches with a final slice of bread and turn to the oven. Spin back just in time to catch Shithead’s paw reaching for Krueger’s designated sandwich. Nikto eyes the plate of brownies in your free hand; you bite the corner of your mouth to keep from grinning.

“What about the yard?”

Nikto tilts his head. If he didn’t give the impression of a particularly large predator, you’d call it cute. As it is, even spiders and snakes endear themselves to you somehow.

“What about yard?”

“Any plans for it?” You sneak an extra brownie onto Nikto’s plate. Reward and apology for wrenching conversation out of him. “Grass? Trees? Flowers?”

He blinks. Just once. Some sort of intuition tells you that even that behavioral tic is a big social step for him.

“No.”

“Oh, uh… gravel then?”

“We mean no plans,” he corrects.

“Oh! Alright, I suppose that’s a long way off anyway. There’s still so much work to do on the inside.”

But it does get you thinking. What even goes into fixing a house? And how do they know all this stuff? The electric, the insulation, the… whatever else goes into a home. Is it just Weird Things they picked up from the military?

You stare contemplatively at the house’s exterior as you walk the plates across the street with Nikto. (Ras is riding on his shoulder and Guy refused to detach his claws from yours. You fear for the state of your home with Shithead left behind, but neither you nor Nikto had a spare hand to wrangle her with.)

Nikto practically kicks the door in, shouting for the others as he goes. Guy chooses that moment to start crying - uncanny sense for appearing pathetic as possible.

Konig must hear him halfway down the stairs, because the steady boot steps get faster after a moment.

“Oh, bubchen! Why are you sad? What has happened?” Konig coos, nearly running to your side.

Of course, now that he’s gotten what he wanted, Guy’s volume lowers. He makes a pleased little “mrow” and slinks off your shoulder and into Konig’s reaching hands. You’d call him a traitor but you’re a damn sucker for a big man with a cute animal. 

“You two are ridiculous,” you laugh, setting the plates on the counter.

It’s already been replaced since last you saw it. Black granite, very sleek. You like it. (Which of them installed it? Nikto? You usually catch glimpses of him on the ground floor.)

“He is a baby, Biene,” Konig protests, “he must be treated like one.”

“He’s already five!” You reply, like you don’t have a papoose for when your hands are too full to snuggle him.

“Did I stutter? I do not think so. This is a baby.”

You have to turn away to hide your laughter, pretending that taking the foil off the lunches requires your full attention.

Krueger steps up behind you while you’re not looking. The heat of him is what alerts you, the only reason you don’t jump when his rough voice comes by your head.

“Where is the Shithead.”

“Hello to you too, Krueger. How is your day?”

He grunts and reaches past you, trying to snatch up a brownie. Without a thought, you slap at his hand - balk at the sharp whack sound it makes. He jerks his hand back in shock.

“You deny me my dearest friend and you attack me in my own home.”

You spin on your heel, mouth already open. False start as you realize he’s even closer than you expected. The height difference doesn’t seem like much until you’re eye level with his neck. You untangle your tongue and ignore the smirk growing at the corner of his scarred mouth.

“This is barely a house, never mind a home,” you scoff.

He snorts - that smirk turns to a full blown grin. A little crazed. Unfortunately, that makes it more attractive. (And the bastard probably knows it too.)

“You insult me too, now.”

“Sure, but I brought you food.”

He flicks his eyes to the plate behind you and arches a brow.

“Bring me the little Sheisskerl and I will forgive you.”

You tilt your head to the side. “Go get her yourself.”

What the hell did you just say? Inviting a man into your house unaccompanied?! You may not be a true crime writer, but you know better.

You still don’t take it back.

He locks eyes with you, gives the distinct impression that he knows exactly what you just thought and he’s amused by your obstinance.

“Fine.” He reaches past your hip. Smells like sweat and something that reminds you of heat. Solder? Certainly not anything you’re used to. “Behave, eh? Konig is easy to take advantage of.”

You snort and glance at Konig over his shoulder, who’s glaring now. (Somehow no less intimidating even with Guy nuzzling at his mask.)

As Krueger turns, he takes a big bite of brownie, humming appreciatively under his breath. You shake your head, then turn to Konig.

“If you want to steal one of his sandwiches, I’ll look the other way.”

Konig barks a short, sharp laugh of surprise. It startles you a bit, but not enough to wipe the grin from your face. You know he really means it when he sounds like that.

“How are the bathroom repairs going?” you ask.

“They are going well!” he answers. Then launches into an in-depth explanation of all the ongoing projects. Replacing walls, rewirings, outlet and light installations. What doesn’t go over your head is almost too fast to understand as his accent thickens with excitement. You nod along anyway, because you asked, and he’s stupidly endearing - big muscular man getting a bit squeaky while he rambles about pipes.

He barely even notices Guy’s little paw reaching until it’s shoved into his open mouth. He sputters as you burst into laughter, gently tucking Guy’s arm against his chest.

“Why would you do this?!” he asks, only to receive a slow blink in response.

“He’s saying you need to eat,” you giggle, nudging Konig’s plate.

“Oh, that’s right! Thank you for the lunch!”

Barely a couple bites in and you hear the door open again. Krueger stomps in with Shithead bundled in his arms, one hand under her bottom, the other around her tummy. She’s got her head tilted all the way back to chirp and chitter at him.

“Why are you carrying her like that?” you ask, choking back a giggle. 

“It is how she wishes to be carried.”

You blink at her - but sure as shit, she’s perfectly content being held like a child’s toy.

“Well good luck eating like that.”

“You won’t feed me?” he leers.

“I don’t want rabies if you bite me.”

His laughter is even harsher than Konig’s. You like it instantly.

All that’s left is to hear Nikto’s.

Agatha is outside when Nikto walks you back home.

(Krueger huffed that he had too much work to do for the day, but he would see you for dinner. While you were still blinking in shock at his self-invite, Konig transitioned Little Guy back into your arms. All the while grumbling at Krueger’s impatient German.)

She scowls as she notices your two-person parade. Nikto’s juggling Little Guy and Rasputin; you’ve got a firm grip on Shithead and the stack of dirty plates. You snort a bit just thinking of her paranoid comments about them being bad men. Sure, they might be in some ways, but it’s a hard sell when Ras is trying to lick at the edge of the mask around Nikto’s eyes.

“Afternoon, Agatha,” you call, just to be petty.

“When is your fiance coming by again?” she calls back. “Such a lovely young man.”

Your mirth dries up in an instant. “I broke up with my boyfriend four months ago. I thought I told you.”

You did. You know you did. Because she’s a nosy pain in the ass that was asking about your Easter plans with him (trying to invite you to church once again) when you told her that you left him. She’d even fussed about it at the time, saying that there’s hardly anything that can’t be healed with time and understanding.

(It was only your commitment to your own privacy that kept you from asking how much time it takes to smooth over someone cheating with your cousin.)

At your side, Nikto grunts. You glance sideways at him, wondering what he must think.

But his eyes are on Agatha. Even Rasputin has paused the grooming routine to narrow his one eye at her.

“Is this the one that looks in mailbox?” he asks, louder than you’ve ever heard.

Loud enough that she hears. And flushes redder than the poppies in your flowerboxes.

“That’s her husband, actually,” you answer. She sputters, and an incredibly immature bolt of satisfaction suffuses you.

He grunts again. Eyes her up and down. “Maybe we leave surprise for him next time, da?”

You press your lips together, but it does nothing to prevent you from grinning. He’s deadly serious, though, which somehow makes it even funnier to you.

“Maybe!” you reply in a tone that really means absolutely.

Nikto shuts the door on her face before Agath can get out a threat to call the police.

“You’ve got a petty streak,” you say, grinning at him.

He tilts his head. “You like.” He doesn’t even sound sure if it’s a question or a statement.

“Yeah,” you giggle, “I like it.”

He grunts and takes the plates from your hand. “We wash. You think about dinner and revenge. Da?”

You plop yourself onto a stool by the kitchen counter. “Da.”

First | Previous | Next

Masterlist

[featherandferns]

5. “Ah Yes. Betrayl, I’m Familiar With That”

22. “You’re My Best Friend” Angst Pleaseee

🫂❤️‍🩹

21. "You're my best friend"

I've actually already done prompt 5 (read wasps here) and prompt 21 ("You're my best friend" is 21 not 22), so I just did an angsty prompt 21 instead of redoing both- I hope that's okay! <3

Season 4 spoilers kind of? Just episode 1 vibes.

Promise - prompt 21

JJ Maybank was designed for you to fall in love with him. It ran deeper than his looks; penetrated through the flesh. His personality was interwoven with his beauty the way his veins lined his muscles and skin. All the idiosyncrasies that made him up in flaws and faults, like his recklessness and his impulsiveness, were nothing but charms in your eyes. He caused trouble wherever he went the way a hurricane accidentally leaves a wake in its path. You chased that trouble like a storm chaser: compass and map and get-away car at hand, just for him. 

By the wonder of fate, you ended up by his side. It was as though the universe placed you there - as if you and JJ were born from the same star dust, destined to find one another in the next life. From childhood, you were in the picture. Offering him a place to stay when his dad was in one of his blind, drunk rages. Giggling through pier jumping adventures and screaming through cheesy horror flicks. Later, older, he was there after your first “heartbreak” and you were there to hear about his cunning escapades with a random girl on the island, his virginity no longer a mark on his name. And with this age came realisations and ramifications. With this age came thoughts and feelings that were new and alien to you. The kind that warps one’s perception. The kind that frames someone in new ways under new titles. JJ Maybank went from being your snotty, scheming long-lasting friend, into your crush. The more time you spent in his orbit, the closer you were drawn. And so, as designed, you fell in love with him. 

He was hard to read and harder to decipher. A flirt, no doubt, though less so as the Pogue-centred adventures grew. His carelessness diminished somewhat when the stakes grew. When the sight of blood and dead bodies became shy of the norm, even compared to his youth in his father’s shadow. John B and Sarah went and with that, JJ came. Closer to you than ever. Needing you more than before. Restless nights and lonely days which you were more than happy to fill, needing him just as much. Nothing beyond cuddles and shared beds. A kiss that never strayed more than a cheek or forehead. Then, reunited with the formerly missing Pogues, came his lightness once more. But that distance didn’t come: he was still just as close. Almost attainable. Poguelandia and El Dorado felt like fever dreams in this light. The one constant was JJ, no matter what, and you the same for him. 

Now, settled, JJ’s old Maybank home rebuilt and remade, the bait-and-surf shop up and running, the gang tethered together through trauma and triumph: you finally felt like everything was falling into place, the same way you had fallen for JJ. 

“I might just sleep out here tonight,” JJ tells you. He’s lying by your side on the newly fixed up boat. The two of you are staring up at the sky, slowly starting to fill with stars, slowly losing the colour of daylight. 

“You’ll be dinner for the skeeters,” you say. 

He shrugs. “Circle of life, I guess.”

Laughing quietly, you turn your head. His hair is short again - dirty blonde, sunkissed highlights. The small jut of his chin and the slope of his nose. The high press of his cheekbones from his small, lingering smile. At the feel of your gaze, he turns his head too. An air of amusement brushes over him; has him almost laughing, quirking a brow. 

“What?”

“Nothing,” you hum. Your own smile falters and your stomach churns. The words are brewing deep within you like a slow, roasting broth. They’d been there for years now, waiting to slip out, and you felt like you can’t hold it down much longer. JJ’s own smile fades into a look of worry, mirroring your own anxiety. 

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you repeat, lying. “I just…I’m just happy.”

His lips twitch upward again. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. I’m happy you finally have a home, JJ,” you quietly say. 

Visibly moved by your sentiment, his hand reaches out for yours, lying limp on the cool plastic exterior of the boat. He squeezes your hand in his. Smiles at you. Holds your gaze. As if drawn in by some outside force, you lean over. Your eyes slip shut and your lips find his, and there, you plant a gentle, soft kiss. It’s no more than a peck. No more than a fleeting, almost phantom moment of weakness. Lingering, lips no more than a centimetre from his, you wait. Wait for some absolution that you hoped might come. 

JJ clears his throat. His hand slips from yours. Your heart cracks like the break of an ice surface as he sits up, sort of hurried. You sit up too. 

“What’s wrong?” you ask, knowing fully well what the answer is. 

JJ is reaching for his boots that he took off an hour or so ago. He meddles with the laces. Not looking at you, he mumbles, “why’d you have to do that?”

“What?”

“Everything was…God, why the fuck did you have to do that?” he repeats, frustrated, maybe even angry. 

Your eyes sting and your heart burns and it starts to feel as though you’re slipping away from yourself. “I don’t know. I just…I just figured–”

“--Well, you shouldn’t have,” JJ snaps, his head darting up. Your eyes meet his and there’s this panic there, deep and damning. You feel damned. 

“I’m sorry,” you say. Sorry for what? For kissing him? For thinking that he might feel the same? For hoping that he might? 

JJ shakes his head and looks back at his boots. His frantic movements stop, fingers mixed with his laces. “Why’d you have to do that, huh? Everything was finally how it should be and now…Now it’s all messed up.”

“Messed up? No, no, it doesn’t…We can just forget about it,” you hurriedly say. You grab at his forearm, wanting his attention, now for a whole new reason. “We can just pretend it never happened.”

“Why’d you do it?”

“I don’t know. I just thought that maybe, with everything that’s happened, maybe you might feel the same way,” you stammer. 

JJ’s eyes slip shut. It’s as though you gave him the diagnosis to a disease he always dreaded. “We can’t.”

You’re not sure what he’s alluding to with that. We can’t pretend it never happened? We can’t move forward? We can’t be friends? 

“You’re my best friend,” you whisper. “I don’t want to lose you.”

JJ gnaws at his lower lip. You sit and wait and hope and pray that you haven’t managed to tear apart years of friendship with one stupid moment of idiocy. Ironic how JJ lived his life in spur-of-the-moment choices but the second you make one, it might haunt you forever. Eventually, as if in slow motion, he looks at you. There’s a sadness in his eyes as though he knows what he says will pain you, and your heart takes pause as you wait. His lips move wordlessly at first and then, sighing, he finds the words. 

“I’m in love with Kiara.”

You feel like bleeding ink on a page. Like you have no mass or place of purchase. Like any meaning you ascribed to anything is now without, soulless and baseless; a work of fiction, like some Shakesperian tragedy. 

“Oh,” you breathe. 

He nods. “I…I’m sorry, I just…I don’t feel that way for you.”

“Okay,” you murmur. You think you might throw up. You shift in your spot as if preparing to. JJ reaches out a hand and it burns when he touches yours. 

“I don’t want to lose you though. I do love you, but the love I feel for her is different. I’m sorry, I don’t know why, I just–”

“--JJ, please,” you beg. You force yourself to look him in the eyes. He’s terrified of everything. Always has been, as long as you’ve known him. More than anything, terrified of love. And you know what that means, for him to care so deeply for someone. You know that he needs you. And you know that, despite everything, you need him. It hurts to be something but it’s worse to be nothing, after all. 

Somewhere deep inside of you, you find a smile. A forced, placid smile, like a lady-in-waiting might wear. Your other hand envelopes his and you will the tears away. 

“I’m your best friend,” you assure him. The words are sour like acid on your tongue. It feels like blasphemy. Nodding, as if trying to make yourself believe it too, you say, “we can forget the whole thing.”

A relieved smile comes to JJ’s face like a breath of air after free diving. He leans back, nods, happy, overjoyed, appeased. 

“Thank God. Cause I don’t know what I’d do without you. I really don’t,” he says, meaning every word. Maybe that’s what hurts the most. 

Nodding, agreeing, you say, “Kiara would be an idiot if she didn’t want you, too.”

Smiling to himself, his head dips, abashed, and you know then and there that he’d never be that way for you. He gets up and as his hand slips form your hold, it feels like you’re losing him forever. Once again, he’s reframed. Different again. No longer your crush, no longer your future, and no longer your best friend. He’s a mirage. He isn’t real. You no longer know what to call him or how to name your connection. Because as he walks away, bidding you goodnight, heading to the house where Kiara sleeps soundly, beautiful and brilliant, you begin to cry, knowing that you would never be able to forget it, and yet knowing that you had to. 

JJ Maybank was designed for you to fall in love with him, but he was never designed to love you back.

[lilghostiequinni]

Just One More

Main Masterlist Lando Masterlist

Pairing: Olympic Figure skater!female oc(Iclyn;Lyn) x Lando Norris

Warnings: Fluffy, Established relationship

Summary: She's a gold medalist for the British Figure Skating team. They had been friends before they dated; they started dating when they were 16; many would say they're stupid for never breaking up, not when he started racing full-time, not when she went to college and made the Olympic team. Not when he moved to Monaco, where she followed, always flying back and forth; on off seasons, she traveled with him, and he made it to every competition he could. Not many know the intensity of their relationship at all.

Requested: NO / yes

Icelyn had sat in front of Lando in the hotel room in Canada for his race this weekend. He was braiding her hair over and over again. Lando would start a braid then undo it only to redo it differently.

It was just a way to pass the time as they waited for something. Also, it gave Lando something to do with his hands that wasn't fiddling with something.

"Lando."

"Yeah, baby," Lando answered.

"Could I take you skating this winter? You make a video out of it," Lyn says as her eyes slip close a little from Lando running his fingers through her hair.

"You just want to see me embarrass myself," Lando says momentarily, stopping his movements and earning a whine from the woman in front of him.

"No, I just want to teach you, but I guess also that. You can handle g-force. Surely you can handle skates," Lyn says as she leans back, allowing Lando to wrap his arms around her shoulders, holding her against him.

"How about if you win another medal, I'll let you put me on skates," Lando says, kissing her temple after he does.

Lyn nods and cuddles closer to Lando, "Sleep."

Lando chuckles at her, "It's two in the afternoon."

"So?" She questions in return as she shifts to be able to get closer.

Lando chuckles and holds her closer still.

There was a period of grace between her ability to get another medal, and in that time, Lando won more races and won the championship in 2025, hoping for the same results in 2026.

But his fiancee, Lyn, is currently face tracking it to another gold medal win for her and the British team.

"And the gold medal goes to... Iclyn Lumi!"

Lyn almost collapses before she makes her way to the 1st place podium on the ice.

She stands on the podium and gets her medal. The two in 2nd and 3rd place congratulate her on the win.

While she's won before, it never feels completely different. It's the same joy, just not the same as the first time.

What's one more medal in her collection? What makes this win all the better is the chance to finally make her fiance get on the ice.

Lyn smiled so widely that she could not stop the tears from running down her face as she got off the ice.

Lyn had been looking forward for over a year to get her fiance on the ice.

When she does, she can't help but ask to turn it into a video and now she's not the only one laughing at her fiance trying to skate.

"Next medal, it can be anything but skating," Lando tells her, because what's just one more going to do?

A/N: Yeah, it's shorter, but it made sense

Tags: @poppyflower-22 @samantha-chicago @barcelonaloverf1life @tallrock35 @hellothere9597

If you want to be removed from a tag list, let me know so I don't keep tagging you. If you are striked through, I don't know if you want to be tagged, but just let me know if you want me to continue or stop

[nieamo]

Lipstick

Summary: You're backstage with your girlfriend Rhea getting ready for her comeback

"10 more minutes Rhea, then we need you on stage" a member of the RAW production staff tells her before walking away. You're leaning over her while she's sitting more or less patiently on her chair, waiting for you to be done with your final touches on her make-up. "Stop fidgeting, I‘m almost done" you say with a warning tone. "Sorry, I guess I‘m just pretty nervous about coming back and all. Kind of feels like I‘ve been away for years and I'm really excited to be back even if I don't fight today but I still worry tha-" you stop her rambling by laying a finger on her lips and then tilt her chin up to look into her eyes "Hey, stop worrying for a second and listen to me. You have absolutely no reason to be worried. You are Rhea fucking Ripley! No one can live up to you and everyone out there knows it. So wipe that worried frown of your face, get up and get ready to kick some ass! Well maybe do the ass-kicking part figuratively, today's supposed to be just about showing your face again."

Rhea smiles and looks up at you lovingly. "What would I do without you?" "Crash and die" you respond smirking down at her. "Oho someone's feeling confident today." she says and cocks an eyebrow in a challenging way. "Well someone's gotta get you all riled up for the show" you respond. "Then you better be sure you can handle the consequences. Because trust me, if I don‘t get to fight today, I‘m sure as hell not going to go easy on a brat like you." she threatens. You grin slightly before leaning down and whispering into her ear: "You think that's going to scare me off? Try me, Mami." As soon as those last words left your mouth Rhea jumps to her feet and steps impossibly closer, slightly towering over you. "Ah ah ah not yet though, I‘m still not done with your makeup. Your lipstick is still missing." She sighs and lets you finish your work although this time she keeps standing right there, only millimeters in front of you, seemingly counting the seconds until you're done. "Alright I‘m d-" but you can‘t even finish that sentence before she picks you up, presses you against the wall and starts kissing you. You immediately start kissing her back and tightly grip onto her neck and shoulders. But before things could go any further there's a knock on the door and the same assistant as before says "3 minutes. We really need you in position now Rhea!" before hurrying away again. You reluctantly pull back from her lips and she grins saying: "Don't think we're done here. I want you packed up and ready to go as soon as I get off that stage understood?" "Yes" you reply and quickly add ", Mami" when she gives you a warning glare. Satisfied with that response she lets you down and turns to leave after giving you a quick slap on the ass. But you stop her and turn her around again saying "Wait! I have to redo your lipstick."

hellooo this was my first short little imagine. i‘ve been desperately craving some rhea fics so i thought i'd just start writing some myself. feel free to let me know what you think and thanks for reading :)

[sciencebecameouraddiction]

If it's not too much I have a request, reader loves to give things they craft to the others in the hotel. They spent hours learning how to crochet from Rosie so they could give Alastor a plushie that matched his theme. A few day after giving Alastor the plushie they find it in the trash, after that they stopped giving Alastor stuff and stopped interacting with him in general. Btw love your writing, your doing a really good job.

ummmmm yes, i totally can do this! the angst, and the dedication of the reader just to have alastor possibly throw it away. maybe some miscommunication tropes??? amazing. and thank you so much!!!

crafting was something that you always enjoyed doing and it was a way that you liked to help out the hotel. so whenever something needed to be created, you were the go to person.

this evolved into any gifts that you gave your friends were crafts you made especially for them. they were trinkets or things they could use or even just little knick knacks that reminded you of them. that is why when it had slipped that alastor’s birthday was a week away, you knew you had to create something perfect. spending a day really thinking about it, you decided that a crochet plush of alastor’s prized radio would be perfect.

you set off to rosie’s wanting to see if that was a good idea and knowing the overlord knew how to crochet like no other. after rosie completely fawned over the idea, you set off learning the pattern and redoing it many times, not wanting your gift to look like it was the first one you had done. so you perfected and when his birthday came, while he was broadcasting, you snuck into his room and placed the plush next to the chair near the entrance of the forest and quickly left. making sure to leave a card with it too.

a few days passed and you didn’t hear anything from alastor about the plush, which you didn’t think was too odd, but you began to worry that you overstepped a boundary when you delivered it to his room. you were fretting, pacing your room at night when you finally decided you’d just go talk to him.

you walked to his door and saw it open. peaking in you saw alastor leaning back in his chair listening to what sounded like some 60’s music, which surprised you. what caught your eye though was the plush that was in the trash. sitting right on top was the radio plush. you gasped and ran off, not wanting to even confront alastor.

the days were long as you proceeded to avoid alastor like the plague. where he was, you made sure you weren’t. and this worked well, until one night you were feeling very upset about what happened. so, over a drink you told angel and husk.

“he did what?” angel asked, shocked.

“it was in the trash.” you shrugged. “guess it wasn’t that good.”

“no. i’m sure it was amazing! i love the plush you did of fat nuggets and the one for my keys too.” angel assured you.

“i’m not trying to play devils advocate here, but i’m the one who takes out the trash, and i haven’t seen anything like that come from alastor’s room.” husk added.

“yeah! maybe he didn’t throw it away!” angel looked enthused.

“who threw what away?” alastor’s voice appeared as he materialized behind you. you groaned and hid your face.

“smiles, they gave you a plush of a radio for your birthday. you threw it away!” angel said, staring alastor down.

“i did no such thing!” alastor looked appalled. “where did you get that idea?”

“they saw it in the trash.” angel said pointing to you. alastor looked at you and tapped your shoulder, you lifted your head, your eyes meeting his. he raised his eye brow as if asking if this was true and you nodded.

“you hadn’t said anything to me about it so i thought you were angry i left it in your room. so, i went to check and you had your door open and i saw it in the trash.” you explain, voice devoid of emotion. alastor’s eyes widen in understanding.

“come with me.” he says holding out his arm. you look at angel and husk who shrug, so you hop off your seat and grab on to alastor’s arm. “now hold on.”

he shadow traveled you to his room where you appeared in front of his desk. you shook of the initial dizziness and then looked at his desk, seeing the plush. your eyes wide as you turn to him.

“you didn’t throw it away?” you ask.

“no, it was admittedly the first birthday gift i had received in a long time.” he said. you squealed letting excitement take you over as you hugged him.

“oh my gosh! thank you! thank you! thank you!” you cried as he awkwardly pet your head and your eyes widened as you dropped him and stepped back.

“sorry. i got a little too excited.” he hummed and looked at you.

“where did you learn to crochet like that?” he asks and you excitedly start talking about how you learned from rosie, he slid around you and sat down, listening to your story and process with a fond smile on his face.

[nyuoqi]

            — SO I MARRIED MY ANTI-FAN     ౨ৎ     SES

OO5.    s-class buffet

✸ SYNOPSIS !  : congratulations! you have been invited to korea's #1 romance reality show 'We Got Married' where you will be living with your co-star like a married couple. but what will you do when you find out that your husband is actually your anti-fan?

(830 wc, not proofread)

"PLEASE DON'T GET NERVOUS, you'll sweat all over and I would have to redo your whole makeup look! " your makeup artist for today warns as she lightly daps a moist sponge on your face to blend your foundation in.

the clear plastic chair beneath you is making your bottom cramp painfully from how long you have been sitting on it— guessing that it has been an hour since you've started yet all your makeup artist has done yet so far is setting your foundation in.

"i know what you're thinking and yes, this much amount of time is required to create the most flawless base you will ever see. can't have you looking botched on your special day, can you? " she continues to dab a moist sponge on your face, blending in your contour this time.

you bet the makeup look your regular makeup artist tends to make for you looks way better than this and it surely does take a shorter time— heck, it's not even a real wedding!

yet why is it that you let a fake wedding make you sweat all over enough to make your palms all sweaty and sticky. you're not even someone who sweats that much normally!

all these complains however remain locked into your heart because you out of all people know better that if words ever get out, your manager will kill you then herself after.

you yawn, your mouth gaped apart freely. "don't move. " your makeup artist warn.

oh so now you can't even yawn because you lack sleep?

your lack of sleep may or may not be your fault. but to be fair, who can sleep soundly knowing that by tomorrow, they will be wed to a guy they've never properly met before? 

not you, at least.

with that being said, your eyes slowly drops as they struggle to keep themselves open after you stifled another yawn. you can see the makeup artist giving you the stank eye but you couldn't care less, especially not when your eyes drops again and struggle to pick itself back up.

next thing you know, your makeup has been done to perfection as the previous makeup artist behind you is now replaced by two hairstylist who are currently brushing through your hair to make them smooth.

"oh you're finally awake! wedding preparations must've been very tiring considering the fact that you were fast asleep when we got in place. " one of the hairstylist greets you with a huge smile, her hair is short and blonde whereas the other has a medium length brown hair. 

you laugh, making up a reply to not make it sound obvious that your sleepiness is caused none other than your thoughts antagonising your future husband in your head throughout the night, leaving you no time to take a good rest.

your hand reaches for your phone. the screen showing that it has been approximately 3 hours since you fell asleep.

i'm such a mess, you thought.

the huge white door in front of you remain unmoved as you fidget around with the end of your white dress. you are about to pick on your nails and hair when you catch your manager glaring at you from behind the curtains, automatically making you opt to holding your bouquet properly instead.

your whole body is on fire as your nerves can't seem to calm down. with the fast rate your heart is beating at, you might as well just drop dead as a result of it pumping more blood than it is able to handle.

however before you have the chance to pretend to drop dead in front of your manager and a 'bridesmaids' (you genuinely have no idea who they are), the door in front of you opens, revealing your figure towards the guests attending your wedding.

the venue of the wedding this time surely is different from the previous seasons. instead of a very fake themed wedding ceremony, the production team decided to make the wedding ceremony this time appear as realistic as possible.

which means that the guests are sitting on the side, below the altar on round tables. your all white theme matches your white dress which you rented from an actual wedding dress rental place. same thing goes for your white heels who will be walking on the altar covered with yet another white coloured carpet.

at the end of the altar, you can see the guy you've been dreading to meet since the day you heard that you will be getting fake married for six months.

despite your nerves practically telling you to play dead on the ground right here and there, you managed to calm yourself down as you begin walking and making your way to meet your soon-to-be husband for the upcoming six months.

"hi. " you smile when you finally reach him.

"hello. " EUNSEOK greets back with a warm smile hanging on his face. your heart melts, he's definitely the perfect groom.

or is he?

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[idkwhatever580]

Where did you learn that?! Pt.3

Pt.1 Pt.2 Masterlist

Pairings: Natasha romanoff x reader

Prompt: a few instances when y/n danced on the pole :)

Warnings: stripper pole, seggsual innuendos, mostly cuteness for this one :)))

A/N: these are just some pieces of the puzzle that I couldn’t create into a whole fic.

Y/n’s pov

1

I am feeling a little blue today so I go to my separate room that Tony made just for me.

It has everything my little pole dancer heart requires. And I can come and go as I please.

Sometimes I use it as a show room for Natasha but others I just practice.

And at times like these I go by myself and just go with the flow.

I change into a comfy yet perfect outfit for my pole session. And I warm up with a few stretches and then I go to the pole. I start some slow music and just do whatever my body wants.

After a while I think I want to send it to Natasha. Not to turn her on or anything. Just a pretty video. Since she’s on a mission and I can’t show her in person.

I start recording

Watch this vid :)))

Once it’s long enough in my mind I jump down and send the video to her with a soft smile.

I love sharing these moments with her even if she is far away.

Because it doesn’t even have to be in a sexual manner, the pole just makes me feel so happy and at home.

I can’t believe I ever stopped.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

2

I got a brand new type of pole today and I’ve been practicing on it while Natasha trains.

It’s a little harder than normal pole since it doesn’t attach to the bottom of the floor.

So I definitely have fallen a bit. But I keep going nevertheless. And I record every thing I do in case I get it.

After a lot of trial and error I finally figure it out with a few tricks and out something together.

Watch meee!!!

I hop down and make sure the pole doesn’t swing and smack me in the face before I run off.

Then I immediately send it to Natasha.

She’s always so supportive of me. She loves seeing me in the videos I send whether they be sexual or not. She just loves it.

And I love the attention she gives me when she sees them. (Pick me? Only for Natasha 🤷‍♀️)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

3

I have been in my dance room all day today.

I have a pretty good set routine. Usually I would train for 5 days a week with one of the days being an all day workout I guess?

But now that I’m back into pole, I have switched out two of those days. The full workout day is now a full pole day. And one of my other workouts is pole.

Sometimes Natasha comes in and she walks in on the perfect moment and I get excited and say

“Oh my gosh natty!”

I run up to her and she grabs me as I accidentally trip a bit.

Maybe being upside down and spinning so much today has gotten to me a little. She laughs and says

“Woah there baby! We wouldn’t want you to get hurt now would we?”

I shake my head and say

“Sorry I just got so excited about this new entry I learned!”

She smiles and says

“Do you wanna show me?”

I nod my head and pull out her chair.

It’s a soft one that is perfect for when she gets a little personal show.

She sits down and I play the music and start.

Watch this pookies

I do the fast paced intro and she ends with a smirk and says

“You know, if you pair that with this dance that you sent me the other day it’d be golden”

I smirk and nod my head. So I redo it but adding the next part in

Watch 😋

I smile after rewatching the recording and I say

“Damn. You could be an instructor. That was good!”

She smiles and says

“I’m not the one who did the damn thing!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

4

I wore a skinny red top to my pole workout today and I’m just realizing how good my back muscles look.

So I naturally set up my camera and did some tricks that really show off my muscles to get Natasha going.

Watch

She immediately threw her training stuff down and ran to my dance room. 😝

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: I want moreeee nowwww but I’m gonna post this and possibly make a pt. 4 if I can find anymore. I’m a horrible person I know guys 😭

@ihartnat @lvinhs