#replies a billion years later

[kingdomofbellows]

There was a small child looking around, her long black hair and oddly simply clothes making her stand out, (especially since she didn't wear shoes) she explores, walking around while she holds a large steel gray book to her chest and a bright yellow daffodil in her hair.

It's clear they're lost and exploring wherever they can. (( @booksofthelibrary ))

Heels click against the polished marble floor, echoing in the hallway and signalling the arrival of the young queen. Hands clasped behind her and eyes lowered deep in throught, she'd pass the girl without a word before pausing and turning to squint at her.

How..who...She turns fully now to walk back to the girl before leaning slightly towards her with a kind smile.

"Hello little one." She says, reaching a hand out to her. "Where did you come from? Let's go find your mother shall we?"

[avernusfuries]

One minute, she'd been fleeing from the Blade of Frontiers, the next she'd crawled out of the pod she'd been stuffed in when she'd made her fateful escape from The Blood War. Everything after it was blurred, as though she were watching it all happen through thin scraps of cloth, and little more than moving shadows in front of her nose. There was something different, she had felt. Something squirming and wriggling and terrible enough that it brought a brief notion of panic to her. As any good soldier had, she'd compartmentalised it until there was a time where she could truly sift through her feelings on the matter and figure out her true thoughts on it. Would this be the end of Karlach Cliffgate? Gone, and most definitely forgotten?

Gods, she could hear Mizora gloating to Zariel, gleefully, about how her champion had gone AWOL. But not to worry, she had set her favourite pup on her trail.

Karlach had hurried through the nautiloid on the off-chance that he had followed her. There were only so many places that she could hide before he eventually found her and dragged her ass back, dead or alive. What a fucking mess. As she trotted into one of the main rooms, the pound of fists quickly got her attention. The trot turned into a sprint pretty fucking quickly. Common sense and conscience would rage a vicious war within her. On one hand, she thought as she cast a glance over her shoulder, there wasn't enough time. On the other, would she be able to live with herself if she left her at the mercy of the mindflayers.

I'm not ready to die!

Fuck.

"Alright, alright, just give me a moment."

The tiefling quickly inspected the pod itself. There was a mechanism to her right, but she had no fucking clue what any of those buttons did. What if she pushed the wrong one and forced... Whatever the fuck would've happened to her? Karlach did not want to take that chance. Wouldn't really. "Shit, okay. Shit." She moved to stand in front of it, fingers gripping at the seam where it opened and gave it a good, hard tug. Nothing. She tried again, putting all of her gargantuan weight into into it, and with a yell, the bastard thing came open with a hiss and its occupant spilled out of it. Not without the sharp enough shock that her knees felt like jelly, unsteadily, she straightened, and eyed her. "Ta-da!"

Gore. That's the only word she could use to describe her surroundings. The ship was half metal, half flesh. They were going to crash. This much she knew. She could feel the gravity from underneath their feet slowly pulling them nearer and nearer to the ground. A glimpse out of the corner of her eye catches devils flying parallel to the doomed vessel, preparing to board and launch an attack against the creatures that were the reason for her being there in the first place. Mindflayers. Could it be true? Had that been what she had seen earlier? She remembers feeling hot all over, then being gripped by fear as the monster for that's what it had been held her down despite her screams of protest and dropped the tadpole into her eye. She screamed her lungs hoarse as it clawed and dug and ate it's way beneath her skin, into the depths of her skull. It was all too real, too fantastic, like some great epic plucked from the shelves of her father's library back home in Bladur's Gate.

Someone ran past her pod and she heard herself scream again, like she had before, although this time there was no fear in her voice. Only rage.

" HELP ME ! " the sorcerer raged, banging her fists against the red fleshy-glass cocoon, white hot electricity dancing at the tips of her fingers, tears streaming down her face, "You have to help me! Before I blow us all to smithereens!" she could feel her wild magic start to course through her veins, like a tourniquet, squeezing tighter and tighter until she could no longer bear it any longer, "Please!" this time Morgan begged, allowing some of her hummanity to shine through, her genuine terror, "I'm not ready to die!" // @infernaliscor liked for a starter.

[crystalmarred]

[ META ] + memories

MEME ⇢ [ META ] + a word / phrase / person / etc  and I will write a head  canon around it. ⇢ @oathofpromises

Memories are a plague to A'atahni and a great deal of them are unhappy, despite the way he presents himself. It may be his memory of being thrown overboard by the closest thing he had to a mother figure or the myriad of things he bore witness to as a child that he likely shouldn't have or even the violent and bloody loss of the first man he ever truly loved and found happiness with or the catatonic silence of the little girl that became his daughter that witnessed it. No matter the case, A'atahni tries his utmost not to remember.

[mikkalia]

Since I just reblogged from you the "let writers write!" post and if I haven't said to you before I appreciate *all* your fic even if in the fandom we currently share, I'm predominantly a Cal/Merrin shipper. I love your gen, I love your friendship fic and yes, I love your Bode/Cal fic too!

I know that you've mentioned having a little bit of a crisis in faith in your writing abilities as of late but as someone who can't write my way out of a paperbag, I appreciate you! I'm so glad you're here!

😭😭😭😭😭 this is so sweet!! Thank you so much!!!

[almostharmon]

Yooo i haven’t seen you around in ages glad ur back!!

im glad to see so many familiar faces around ❤️

[marimelwrites]

@midnightsaboteur - continued from your reply to my open starter HERE!

When Maddox had approached the woman, he hadn't expected the response that he got. Perhaps, if he was more adept at reading people's emotions, he might have seen that something was slightly off but he wasn't and so he didn't. However, now that she had spoken, his eyes fell to the bottle of wine and noted that it looked empty before returning to her. Normally, Maddox would have excused himself from any sort of potential mess, and especially from handling a person who was dealing with some sort of upset, but at the same time she struck a chord deep down.

If anyone knew the feeling of rejection from someone, it would be him. Not that he would admit the details to anyone who wasn't his twin brother. "Well, if your date decided to leave you and nobody wanted a chance to entertain you tonight when you look like this, they're greater fools than I had anticipated." He held his arm out for her to take, "Let's get you out of here and back home before we get kicked out of here for overstaying our welcome."

As he led them towards the exit, holding the door for her to pass through first, like the gentleman he was deep, deep down and never showed, he asked, "So, should I even ask why your date decided to pull an asshole move? Or is that a topic we're wanting to avoid?"

[parkerslatte]

One Year

Thanos/Choi Su-bong x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3.7k

Warnings: usual squid game stuff. blood and gore. injury. mentions of suicide. mentions of addiction. drugs. soft thanos. slight canon divergence.

Summary: After an argument about money and debts, Y/N left Thanos. A year later she meets him again in the games yet he does his best to ignore her. During the game of Mingle, Y/N gets thrown out of her room and Thanos comes to her rescue.

Squid Game Masterlist

“Are you being serious?” Y/N asked, sitting down on the chair in disbelief. 

Su-bong paced in front of her exasperated. “It was meant to make us more money! You can’t blame me for trying.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “I told you when you first told me about it that it was a stupid idea. Not only did you ignore me, but you invested more than you said you were going to. And not just your own money, you took some of mine too!”

Su-bong rolled his eyes and Y/N chuckled. How he could be annoyed with her was beyond her. “I can’t believe this. I really can’t.”

“I can do something,” Su-bong said, a hint of desperation in his tone that he was clearly trying to hide. “I can start writing songs again. I can–”

“Don’t lie to me or yourself,” Y/N snapped. “You have been saying that for the past year.”

Su-bong scoffed. “You try to do something like that again when you are turned into a laughing stock!”

“And who’s fault was that?” Y/N said. “I was the one who advised you to not take those pills before the performance and you did it anyway. You have no one to blame but yourself.”

“Aren’t you meant to be my girlfriend? Isn’t it your job to support me?” Su-bong questioned. 

“I do support you, but I know when to draw the line,” Y/N replied. “I don’t support you basically gambling your entire life savings and mine all on what was clearly a scam from the start. I don’t support you going out every night getting high using pills you bought with my money. And as far as I know, you are supposed to support me too.”

“I do support you,” Su-bong defended, clearly offended. 

“Give me one example where you supported me over the past year,” Y/N said. Su-bong remained silent, giving Y/N the answer she needed. “The fact that you can’t even name one explains it all,” Y/N said. “You weren’t there for me when I was fired from my job. When my father was sick. When I broke my leg and could barely get around.”

“I can support you,” Su-bong said, grasping Y/N’s hands. “I can get us money. I can get it back–”

“No,” Y/N said and pulled her hands from his. Despite how she felt in the situation, she couldn’t help but miss the warmth of them. But she knew that what she was about to do was the right decision for her. “I can’t do this anymore. Not only did you continuously lie to me, but you stole money from me dragging me down with you.”

“Y/N, please,” Su-bong begged. “Don’t do this.”

Y/N pressed her lips into a thin line. There was a time when they had had this conversation before. Then she had stayed and Y/N was coming to realise that it was a stupid decision. Despite it all, she did still love him. But she couldn’t forgive him–not this time. “Are you begging me only because you have nowhere else to go or because you still love me?”

There was a brief moment of hesitation. It was at most a few seconds but those few seconds were arguably the most important. “Of course I love you!”

Slowly, Y/N nodded. “I see.”

“Y/N, please,” Su-bong begged. “I’ll get a job. Fuck, I’ll get two jobs. I can fix this.”

“You are over one billion won in debt!” Y/N exclaimed. “Do you really think a few shitty jobs are going to fix that anytime soon? At least my job pays a decent wage but it is still nowhere near to pay off my own debts which you forced me into. No, I’m done this time,” Y/N said, keeping a steady tone despite the way she wanted to cry out and forgive him instantly. “Please leave. I’ll have your things sent to you.”

“You can’t kick me out!” Su-bong exclaimed. 

“You don’t rent this apartment, I do,” Y/N said, avoiding his gaze. “Please leave Su-bong. You’re making this harder than it needs to be.”

He scoffed. “I can’t believe I ever loved you.”

Y/N’s gaze remained fixated on the table before her until his footsteps grew distant and the front door was opened and slammed shut, plummeting the apartment into silence. The moment she knew she was actually alone, Y/N allowed the tears to flow. She knew that this decision was for the best, after all their relationship over the past year had been far from a whirlwind romance. Y/N couldn’t remember the last time they had even slept in the same bed. 

But somehow she already had the urge to run out and tell him to come back and that they could work everything out together. Y/N’s hands gripped the arms of the chair, grounding herself. She couldn’t do that. Leaving him was for the best– even if she didn’t believe it just yet. 

***

The platform began to move, the number of players in the room was considerably less compared to the first round. She was standing on her own as she looked at the puddles of blood on the floor. There had yet to be someone Y/N had become allies with, the group she was with for the pentathlon were already a small alliance of four and she only joined them because they needed a fifth person. Everyone else already seemed to have their own group apart from her. 

It wasn’t that Y/N hadn’t tried. The moment she had seen her ex-boyfriend run up to that voting button and confidently chose to continue the game, she had tried her best to speak with him. Despite the fact that she was the one who broke up with him, it was nice and comforting to see a familiar face, even if that familiar face was high out of his mind every single time she tried to speak with him. 

Four different times Y/N had tried to speak to Su-bong and each time he wouldn’t give her the time of day. It irritated her more than she cared to admit though deep down she couldn’t blame him. After all she was the one who had kicked him out. 

She glanced at him from across the platform and noticed him already staring at her. Upon noticing this, he quickly looked away from her. If she made it through this round, she would make him speak to her whether he wanted to or not. 

“Two players,” the voice called out. 

There was no hesitation as Y/N grabbed the person closest to her and began to drag them to the yellow room right before her eyes. The round was carnage as people pushed and shoved and fought each other to get to a room in time. There were 126 players left, only 100 would be able to make it through the round. 

Just as the person she dragged opened the door, Y/N spared a glace in the direction Su-bong ran and found him and Player 124 dragging people out of the way of the door before running into it themselves. Y/N turned back to her room and slammed the door behind her just as Su-bong looked in her direction before he slammed his door closed. 

Once the door was closed, Y/N allowed herself to breathe and finally relax for a moment. She looked at the person she had dragged. “Are you okay? I didn’t hurt you when I dragged you, did I?”

Before the woman could even muster a response, the door was forcibly pushed open and a firm grip squeezed Y/N’s arm, pulling her out of the room as an older man forced his way inside. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” Y/N yelled, kicking and hitting the man as he tried to push her out of the room. 

“I’m not dying today!” the man hissed. 

Y/N pulled her arm from the man’s grasp and before he knew it, a fist was flying at her face, her vision blurring immediately. A force pushed Y/N outside of the room and she fell to the floor. 

“Fuck you!” Y/N yelled at the man inside. 

Y/N glanced around at the clock and panic instantly rose within her. There were ten seconds left on the countdown and all hope left her body. There was no possible way she was going to find a partner and a room in time. Y/N slowly stood to her feet, already accepting her fate.

There were a few people still on the platform either hurt from someone or accepting their fate. Others were still trying to force their way inside rooms and fight for them. Slowly, Y/N closed her eyes. At least in her final moments she wouldn’t have to see the carnage surrounding her. 

Before Y/N knew it, she was quite literally swept off her feet. Her eyes opened and immediately recognised the mop of purple hair and she let out a small noise of surprise. Without a moment of hesitation, Su-bong ran into a blue room and slammed the door behind him just as the door locked, breathing heavily. 

As the gunshots sounded out, his grip tightened on her as he slumped down to the floor, Y/N still in his arms. 

“Su-bong?” Y/N muttered, still in disbelief that he had saved her. She stood from his hold and shakily got to her feet. 

“Why were you just standing there?” Su-bong asked, raising his voice. “Do you want to die?”

“I was thrown out of the room,” Y/N said. “There wasn’t enough time to find someone else and find a room.”

Su-bong stood to his feet, his eyes wide. “Why wouldn’t you at least try?”

“Why would you care?” Y/N said. “Evidently from the way you have refused to even speak to me here, you wouldn’t care whether I lived or died.”

“Of course I care!” he exclaimed.

“Then why haven’t you spoken to me since we’ve been here?” Y/N questioned. “I have tried so many times to speak with you, thankful to see a familiar face, and you have shut me down every single time! Is it about the drugs you’ve been taking? I know that I don’t like it when you take them but honestly right now I don’t care. All I have wanted to do is speak with you.”

Su-bong scoffed. “Now you want to speak to me? What about the past year? You never wanted to speak to me when I reached out.”

“The circumstances were different and you know it,” Y/N snapped. 

“How?” He asked. “I’m just doing exactly what you’ve been doing to me.”

Y/N sighed, forcing herself not to roll her eyes. “For once, imagine being in my place. Imagine supporting your partner for a year after their career took a plummet, you start paying for everything. Food, clothes, sometimes even their drugs when they begged you.”

At that statement, Su-bong glanced down at the necklace hanging from his neck. 

“Then you find out that they had an amazing idea to invest in crypto that turned out to be a scam,” Y/N continued. “Not only did they stupidly invest their entire life savings, but then you find out that they have been taking small amounts of money from your account too. Now leaving themselves in debt as well as you. In between all of this, imagine them going out early in the morning and either returning high out of their mind where you need to stay up and take care of them all night or they don’t return at all and you spend the whole night worried about where they are and if they are even alive.”

Y/N took a step closer to Su-bong. “Imagine if our positions were switched. You wouldn’t want to speak to me again either. But you have no idea how hard it was for me, because despite it all– somehow I still loved you. You fucked me over and I still loved you.” A shaky breath left Y/N. “So, I’m sorry if I didn’t want to talk to you. I’m sorry if I ignored you for a year. I’m sorry I couldn’t do more to help you, but I needed to put myself first for once.”

The silence in the room was deafening. The gunshots had ceased and the guards were clearing up the bodies. The numbers who hadn’t made it sounded through the speaker but Y/N didn’t listen as she only stared at Su-bong who hadn’t met her eyes the whole time she spoke. 

Slowly she took another step towards him and brought her hand up and placed it under his chin and forced him to meet her eyes. “You always did have trouble making eye contact when we were having a serious conversation.” His pupils were blown wide from the pill Y/N had watched him take before the game. “Why did you save me?”

Su-bond blinked once, then twice as if he was confused by the question. “What?”

“I watched you run into a room with your friend, pulling people out of the way for it. You were safe. Why did you risk your life to save me?” Y/N asked. 

“You were watching me? Señorita, I’m touched,” Su-bong said, his tone flirtatious. Y/N knew this behaviour all too well, sometimes she used to fall for it. 

Y/N frowned. “Be serious for a minute. I don’t want you to be ‘Thanos’. I want you to be Su-bong. My Su-bong.”

Surprise seemed to fill his eyes and he seemed to unconsciously lean into her touch as his eyes flicked to the side. “I watched you run into a room, I thought you were safe so I entered a room. When I looked out and saw you were standing outside, I ran out without thinking.”

“Did you know that there was a room available?” Y/N questioned. 

If possible, the room became quieter. “Why did you do it?”

“I couldn’t leave you out there,” he admitted. “I couldn’t leave you to die.”

“But you could have died in the process?” Y/N questioned. “How stupid could you be?”

Su-bong’s eyes met Y/N’s once more. His pupils were still dilated but Y/N could see his true emotions shining through clear as day. Vulnerability. 

“Do you know where I was when that man in a suit offered me that card?” Su-bong said, his voice strangely quiet. “I was on a bridge ready to jump and take my life. So I don’t care if I die in these games. But if you died, I couldn’t handle that. When I ran out, I thought that we would either both live or we would both die.”

Su-bong’s hands slowly moved until they held onto Y/N’s waist. The feeling of it so familiar but so foreign. “I tried to convince myself that I didn’t care about you, that if you died, I wouldn’t feel anything. I tried to convince myself that I was angry at you for turning your back on me. But when I saw you standing outside that room prepared to die, I realised that none of that was true. I still love you, baby. Even though I’m pissed that you joined these games.”

“It’s not like I had any choice,” Y/N shrugged as she cupped his face gently, her eyes stinging. 

Su-bong glanced down guiltily. “I’m sorry.”

“I know,” Y/N said, her thumb brushing along his cheekbone. “Someone who wasn’t sorry wouldn’t risk their life to save their ex-girlfriend who kicked them out with nowhere to go”

A huff of a laugh left Su-bong as he dipped his head down resting his forehead against Y/N’s. “Looking back, I can’t blame you.”

Y/N’s eyes closed as she savoured the feeling of his closeness. If she imagined hard enough, she could pretend that they weren’t trapped in a series of deathly games. They would be in her apartment, her doing her own work while Su-bong worked on a new song, happily sitting side by side. Just how it was for four years before his career blew up and things spiralled from there. 

“Vote to leave,” Y/N whispered. “We can get out of here and we can work things out. I know that you said that you…don’t care if you die in these games, but I don’t want to watch that. If we vote to leave, we can pay off our debts together and work things out between us– properly this time.”

Suddenly a warm pressure captured Y/N’s lips. The feeling was one she had missed. Her body fell into his as she wrapped her arms around Su-bong’s neck as she deepened the kiss. His arms wrapped around her waist before he turned their bodies until her back was pressed against the wall. 

Y/N pulled away and allowed herself to look into Su-bong’s eyes for a brief moment before she leaned in once more. The kiss held a hint of desperation behind it, as if one of the guards would enter the room and gun them down that very second. Su-bong’s hands slid from her waist to her hips, giving them an experimental squeeze. 

A content sigh left Y/N as she threaded her fingers in his hair and Su-bong smiled into the kiss. He pulled away, breath mixing with hers. “Jump, señorita,” he muttered.

“I always hated you calling me that,” Y/N mumbled against his lips.

“You loved it,” Su-bong replied as he picked her up and her legs immediately wrapped around him as he deepened the kiss. 

It wasn’t until now when Y/N realised how much she had missed him and how perfectly they fit together. It had been a year since he had last touched her this way and it was as if no time had passed. 

“I missed this,” he muttered, lips attaching to her jaw before peppering soft kisses down the side of her neck. 

“Me too,” Y/N sighed, tilting her head back as she savoured the feeling of his lips on her skin. She could only wish that they were in her apartment, gradually making their way towards the bed. 

Instead Y/N was brought back to her harsh reality. 

“Attention players, the game is now over.”

The door clicked and unlocked and Su-bong reluctantly detached his lips from Y/N’s neck.  They stared at one another breathlessly. Y/N’s legs were still wrapped around his hips and her fingers were tangled in his hair– only messing the strands up even more. 

Slowly, Su-bong set her back on her feet, hands slipping up her body to her waist. The footsteps of the other players broke the two from the daze they were in as Su-bong slowly stepped back, allowing Y/N space to step away from the wall. 

“We can get out of here together,” Y/N whispered as she slipped her hand in Su-bong’s. “Please vote to leave.”

The door was opened and a guard stood in the threshold, gun clutched in their hands unafraid to use it. Y/N and Su-bong slowly stepped out of the room and joined all of the other players as they exited the game. Neither of them spoke though their hands remained clutching one another tightly. 

“Thanos!” Player 124 said as he nudged Su-bong’s shoulder. “What was that for? If it weren’t for those pricks outside the room, I’d be dead.”

“You’re alive aren’t you?” Su-bong said the tone of his voice shifting to something more distant. A tone he never spoke to Y/N in. A tone that she knew was purely for other people.

Player 124 glanced at Y/N and his eyes trailed down to where her hand was linked with Su-bong’s before his eyes fixated on the red patch stuck to her jacket. A quiet huff of acknowledgement slipped past his lips. “I hope this bitch won’t make you change your mind about playing one more game.”

Su-bong’s head whipped around fast to face Player 124. “Don’t fucking call her that, man.”

Player 124 laughed. “Whatever you say. But remember. One more game.” He slipped back into the crowd of people– significantly smaller than when they had first entered. 

“You need to make better friends,” Y/N commented watching Player 124 leave with distaste. 

“And you need to make friends,” Su-bong defended as he pulled Y/N along with the rest of the crowd. “I’ve seen you sadly standing around on your own since we’ve been here.”

“Sorry for not wanting to get attached to anyone in a place where I could die,” Y/N replied. 

Su-bong huffed a laugh and squeezed her hand. “You have me now.”

“Only until the vote?” Y/N asked, her heart dropping slightly.

There was a brief moment of hesitation as he glanced down at the blue patch on his jacket. After a while he slowly nodded and Y/N let out a soft sigh of relief. 

“Only if you promise to not kick me out again,” Su-bong muttered as he threw his arm around Y/N’s shoulders, keeping her pressed to his side. 

“I promise,” Y/N replied as he pressed a kiss against the top of her head. “Only if you promise to work things out between us.” Y/N glanced at his necklace. “That includes your addiction. I know it will be hard, but I will be with you every step of the way.”

Su-bong looked at the cross necklace hanging from his neck and let out a long sigh. “Okay, señorita. You have a deal.”

“I told you not to call me that,” Y/N muttered.

“I know that you love it,” Su-bong said. “You always did. Especially when I–”

“Let’s leave that talk for when we are out of this hellhole,” Y/N said, lightly shoving him away from her. 

A quiet laugh left Su-bong as Y/N looked up at him, a small spark in his eye shone brightly. It was the first time she had seen it in years. Y/N’s lips twitched up as she savoured his touch, hope filling her heart for the first time she had woken up in this god-forsaken place. Y/N linked their fingers together once more as they walked through the colourful staircase for what would hopefully be the final time. 

[cllightning81]

Family Friend [PG10]

Summary : You and Pierre had been dating for a while but the last thing you expected was to see a picture of you kissing on social media. Except that's not how your brother's found out it was him.

Pairing : Pierre Gasly x Leclerc!Reader

Warnings: Google Translate French

When you woke up that morning, the last thing you expected to see was a billion text messages from only three people. Charles, Arthur, and Lorenzo. Reading through the texts, they were all variations of

You looked down with Pierre’s arm tightly wrapped around your waist. You opened the Twitter well now X app to see millions of pictures of yourself kissing a guy -Pierre- explaining all the texts from your brothers. Your face dropped as you shook Pierre awake 

‘When were you going to tell us?’

‘Who is that?’

‘What the hell Y/N’ 

“Amour? Qu’est-ce qui ne va pas?” (Love? What’s wrong?) He asked, voice deep and full of sleep

“We’ve been caught. There’s pictures of us kissing. My brother’s have already seen it” You panicked as he pulled you closer now more awake. 

“Chérie. Take a deep breath.” (Darling) You copied his breathing. Your head placed against his chest, his heartbeat against your ear resting right above his heart, relaxing you more. 

“I guess. I miss your blonde hair” You changed the subject as you always did when you panicked. 

“Now let’s see this picture?” He muttered, taking your phone and looking at it

“Okay. So it’s just a picture of you kissing someone. It’s also a very old picture Chérie” He rubbed your arm gently with his hand

“You’re changing the subject. This could be anyone in this picture, so let’s continue with our plans of a day on the boat. There’s gonna be other people there, so let’s get ready for that” You nodded, kissing his jaw. 

An hour later, you were following Pierre onto Charles’ boat after not answering any of your brother’s texts. Lando thankfully followed behind you so it didn’t look too suspicious. Not that he knew that you were using him to hide your panic. 

“Look who finally showed up” Charles rolled his eyes, and you dropped your head 

“It’s an old picture. I promise. I was like nineteen in those pictures. Like four years ago” you sighed, sitting down next to Pierre. It's more like you had been hiding your relationship for four years. It was perfect. You got to quarantine together and just pretend it was because Pierre’s house offer had fallen through. Well, it had, but he definitely could have got another. 

“Qu'est ce qui ne vas pas chez toi?” (What is wrong with you?) Arthur asked Charles, pushing him aside and wrapping his arms around you from behind. Being just a year younger than Arthur, you had always been close. He was more interested in who it was to annoy you about it than Charles, who wanted to kill whoever it was. Lorenzo just wanted to be nosey and know all the details. A little longer, you were talking about stories of your childhood with the Leclerc brothers. Pierre had left to go to the bathroom and then get the next round of drinks. 

“Y/N started a fight once, and it got a little too violent” Arthur laughed, and you shook your head 

“I did not start the fight. I joined in on the fight and got violently attacked” you replied, rolling his eyes 

“Violently attacked?” Lando asked, and you nodded

“Enzo pushed Cha. Who fell into me, and I went through the glass table. Maman was not happy. I broke her glass table but was even less amused when she realised I was bleeding” You looked at Arthur, who was sitting on the other side of you. 

“It’s a nice scar now. One for the history books” Arthur laughed 

“What scar?” Pierre asked, handing you a glass of wine as he took his seat back next to you, his hand instinctively going to your thigh, which was hidden by the table you were sitting at. 

“The one from going through the table when the boys were fighting”  

“The one on your right ribs?” He asked, and you nodded. He paused only now, just realising what had left his mouth. Shit. 

“Que viens-tu de dire?” (What did you just say?) Charles asked, standing up and rounding the side of the table

“I didn’t” He shrugged, and you rolled your eyes 

“It’s not exactly hidden, is it?” You asked with a shrug

“I’m sure Lando even knew it was there” you added, and Lando shook his head 

“Of course you didn’t” This really wasn’t how you wanted your relationship to come out. Your leg bouncing under the table. Arthur took your hand, giving it a squeeze, knowing exactly how this was about to go. Arthur had definitely pieced it together today, and he didn’t care. 

“C'est bon. Il s'en remettra” He whispered in your ear as Charles continued to go off on Pierre for getting with his little sister. You stood up, pushing Charles back 

“Shut up! Charles. You’re not my keeper. No wonder I spent the last twenty-three years hiding all of my relationships. Including this one. Pierre looks after me, Charles. More than you ever had during your travelling. It’s all I’m the best with you. Arthur’s never been good enough, I’ve never been good enough. So stop it, will you?” You shook your head walking inside the boat, Pierre, following behind you. His arms wrapped around your waist as your hands rested against the counter. Your head fell back onto his chest as you tried to hold back your tears. His head resting on your shoulder. 

“Amour. Je t'aime et je t'aimerais toujours” (Love. I love you and always will) He kissed your neck softly as his thumbs gently rubbed against your hips. 

[stardustedstories]

Ah, so it was the paladin of the Black Lion who had come to stand watch. Lotor's eyes track the other man as he leans in, a slow smile slipping onto his face, keeping the mask of the bored prisoner in place. He hasn't had much opportunity to interact with this particular human before, and his admittedly very curious.

Lotor gets to his feet, taking a step closer to the energy barrier, closing the distance between them.

"And here I thought humans counted sheep," he responds, still watching his captor, taking in any changes in posture or expression. He was a master at reading people, but it remained to be seen whether or not he could get anything from this….Shiro, he thought his name was.

"Well, this is a pleasant change, I must say," Lotor adds, deliberately relaxing his posture, making it seem like he was more at ease than he really is. "The last time I had a visitor all they wanted was information. I quite enjoy having someone drop by just because."

"Nope. This is good." It seemed relatively fitting Shiro be the one to check in on him. "I'm sure you've found ways to entertain yourself. I'm particularly fond of trying to count all the dots behind your eyes." He leaned in, albeit out of reach. "But I can leave if you'd like to go back to whatever you were doing."

[nevarrhoe]

mea culpa (m.m)

SUMMARY: "mea culpa" (exclamation - noun/legal term)

used as an acknowledgement of one's fault or error.

↪ in which matt murdock accidentally falls in love with the district attorney's daughter.

warnings: smut !! p in v, she/her pronouns used for reader

series master list

any minors caught interacting will be blocked and reported

a/n: don't mind me bringing this series back THREE YEARS later bc i fell back in love with matt murdock. felt right to re-publish just bc i have edited it a little bit too. enjoy!!

You fucking hated these parties. 

Sweaty lawyers, classy music, champagne that cost thousands of bucks but tasted like piss. And it was all for what? For every lawyer on the Upper East Side to have a dick measuring contest and decide who the best prosecutor was? Yeah, that sounded about right.

It would have been less insufferable if the barristers in question were younger, hotter and more prone to using antiperspirant. Sadly, they were none of those things. All well past their sell-by date. You could deal with an older man but these were just…old. Daddy issues were one thing but gran-daddy issues was where you drew the line. Much unlike the gorgeous blonde girls hooked on the arms of the eighty-plus law firm partners, flaunting the expensive rocks on their fingers and praying for the day that their husbands finally keeled over and left their estates to them. You’d always sworn not to become one of them. At least not until you were twenty-seven at most - and it wouldn’t have been hard, given that your father was the District Attorney and had every high-flying lawyer in his pocket. 

You didn’t need their money though, not when you had his. Obviously, most of it was family money - district attorneys didn’t exactly make money bags. Not much of an issue given that your family name ranked a little between the Vanderbilts and the Rockerfellers. 

So there you were, perched on the edge of some random firm’s annual mixer. You’d cracked out your mother’s vintage Chanel suit - a red-and-black checkered blazer and matching mini-skirt, finished with black platform heels and a spritz of Coco Chanel. There wasn’t a hair out of place - that was rule one of finishing school. 

“Darling, are you going to mingle at all?”

Eyes flickering up from your champagne, they locked with your father’s a few feet away. The scowl was natural. 

“What am I supposed to talk about?” you asked. “They’re all boring. And old.”

“Any man here would give you a job,” he replied. “It wouldn’t hurt for you to have one.”

“Oh father, please,” you snorted. “Your great-grandad didn’t spend years exploiting oil tycoons for billions of dollars for me to break my nails working.” 

You could have gotten any job or degree you wanted - money aside, you were smart as fuck. You’d graduated top of your class at Harvard at the mere age of 21. Two years later, however, your degree was just decoration, with you having discovered you much preferred just…existing. And spending money on clothes, bags, and whatever else you fancied that day. 

“Our ancestors worked hard-” 

“- I never said they didn’t work hard,” you cut him off. “You clearly put a lot of effort into sucking Wilson Fick’s dick.”

Shoving your glass of champagne into your father’s hand, you blew him a kiss and stalked off. 

It was that particular conversation that caught Matt Murdock’s attention. 

He stood a good few meters away from you, nursing his own glass of barely-touch bubbly and fiddling awkwardly with his tie. Foggy Nelson had dragged him there - c’mon Matty, it’s just a formality he’d said - and then duly fucked off to flirt with a stunning law clerk. What a jerk. 

Your comment had been flippant, but it was the first mention of Fisk’s name in a negative light that he’d heard all night. It was no wonder he wasn’t very popular there, given how his law firm had attacked the big guy. 

“You look bored…” you trailed off, eyes flickering down to the name tag on Matt’s lapel. “...Murdock.” 

That wasn’t why you’d come over to him. Okay, maybe it was a little but also because he was a) a stunningly attractive man in a room of viable Jabba the Hutt’s and b) his blazer was just a little too tight for his arms. He’d been meaning to get it taken out a little but man, life was just so busy at the moment. 

It took exactly five seconds for your entire being to fill his senses. Faint Coco Chanel and expensive body cream, all of which had clearly been used to mask the smell of tobacco. Expensive tobacco too. The taste of champagne lingered every so slightly on your breath, but not enough to show you’d had that much. He could read you just from that. You smelt like you - or your daddy, most likely - had money and it was clear you weren’t big on drinking. At this event, at least - because what socialite in modern day Manhattan didn’t have a drinking problem? 

It was weird how he could tell when people were staring - it was just a sense that their lingering eyes just happened to be in his direction. But even if he was in their line of sight, it was clear they weren’t looking at him. No bets that you were one of the best sights in the room. 

Matt was bored. You were bored. And that was where the entire problem began.  

The lawyer gave you a smile. “This isn’t really my scene.”

“Oh, please,” you beamed back at him. “It’s not mine either. You should be grateful you can’t see what’s going on right now - it’s like watching hundreds of Rich Uncle Pennybags drag around their discount Pamela Anderson sex dolls.”

Matt let out a derivative snort. Hell, you were funny too. 

“I very briefly remember what Pamela Anderson looks like,” he replied. “Even a discounted version of her is arguably still very beautiful, no?”

“Mmm,” you hummed. “I mean…I would.”

“I can only assume based on the way you’re speaking about these established lawyers that you’re not one of them?”

“Absolutely not,” you shot back. “I never got around to passing the bar.”

“So why are you here?”

“My old man’s the district attorney,” you replied. “And I can tell by the way your face just fell that you don’t like him.”

“I don’t not like him-”

“- it’s okay, Murdock,” you cut him off. “Rest assured, I probably hate him more than you.”

“So I’ll ask again,” he raised an eyebrow. “Why are you here?”

“Family obligations,” you rolled your eyes. “But what I wouldn’t give to stop playing happy families and leave this godforsaken hall to drink alcohol that doesn’t taste how my Great Aunt Betty smells.”

Matt normally wouldn’t have accepted your hint, but he was so done with the night already. Daredevil aside, he hadn’t been living a very exciting life the last few weeks. Maybe it was time he did something for himself. Something younger, funnier, and prettier than the woman he would normally find in New York on a Saturday night. 

“Are you even old enough to frequent establishments that sell alcohol?”

“Oh, you’re funny,” you huffed. “Old enough by just over two years, but I can assure you I’ve been drinking much longer than that.” 

Matt smiled. “Then I might know a place.”

–

All eyes were on you the second you stepped inside Josie’s Bar. Not for the same reason they’d been on you at the last event. 

Your outfit alone probably cost more than the yearly rent of this hole. It was a nice hole, though. Nicer than you’d expected. Even if the carpet was sticky on your heels and the air thick with tobacco. At least here you wouldn’t have to hide your own smoking habits. 

“What’s your poison?” Matt asked. He kept a hand on the small of your back, guiding you to the bar. Nice.  

You glanced at the bar, scanning the shelves for your choice of intoxication. 

“I’ll take a double dark rum and coke, please.” you replied - half to Matt, half to the woman behind the bar who you assumed to be Josie. 

“Diet coke?” she teased. 

“Not necessary- regular is fine,” you replied. “I assume you accept American Express platinum here? I’ll tip as well.”

Josie smiled. “Touche - and for you, Matthew?”

“I’ll take an IPA.”

You smiled, resting a hand on Matt’s shoulder. “I kind of liked just calling you Murdock.”

“I don’t mind if you want to keep doing that,” he replied. “That little play with the AmEx card was cute.”

“Oh yeah?” you quirked an eyebrow. “I’m not gonna let her talk down to me just because I’m not…working class like everyone else in this bar.”

“How long did it take you to come up with a nice word for poor?” he teased. “Didn’t they teach you grammar in private school?”

You ran a hand down his arm, acrylic nails leaving a trail of goosebumps. “You like running your mouth, don’t you, Murdock?”

“Sweetheart, you have no idea.”

Maybe this was unlike him. Actually, maybe it wasn’t unlike. In fact…it was more like him than the everyday Matt Murdock he liked to let in. It felt a little sacreligious that it was a pretty rich girl that brought it out of him - never mind that you were at least ten years younger - but hell, he’d take it. Life was short and he knew how fun the daughters of rich businessmen could be. Elektra Natchios was testament to that and was arguably much less of a good time that you were so far. 

You slid his drink towards him. “Better get drinking then, huh?”

–

You tried to outdrink Matt.

Matt tried to outdrink you. 

And that was the only explanation as to how you were still at Josie’s by final call. Neither of you were drunk - tipsy at a push - and somehow, you were both walking the line between giving the other your all and still playing hard to get. You’d learnt that Matt was a tease - no doubt a smooth talker in the courtroom - and he could easily keep up with your taunts and jabs. 

“I can’t believe we got kicked out!” 

You’d stumbled out the bar about two minutes before, arms linked with his to guide him down the street. Matt’s cane was tucked up neatly away now - he could have pretended to still use it, but the way you held onto him and led him down the street did far too much to his senses to deny himself of it. It was a mixture of expensive perfume and rum, and what felt like electricity every time your hand touched his wrist. 

“It’s called closing time,” Matt shot back. 

“In my world, that’s just a Green Day song,” you said. “You go a few blocks east of here and they’ll stay open as long as you keep paying.”

“We could go a few blocks east - or we could go one block south and go back to my place.”

You grinned. “Lead the way! Wait - oh my god. Was that really mean?”

He chuckled, grabbing your hand and leading you in the opposite direction.

Matt’s apartment was nice - high ceilings and big windows, though sparsely furnished and minimal at the same time. You followed him through to the kitchen, kicking off your heels and sliding into a bar stool beside him. He threw aside his glasses and cane, spinning around to face you.

“So, tell me,” you began. “How does a small-time lawyer like you afford a place like this?”

“I take men like your father to court,” Matt suavely replied - he reached across the counter and yanked over a bottle of scotch, popping off the lid. “Care for some?”

“Mm, Glen Mckenna,” you glanced at the label. “I’m not much of a scotch gal, Murdock. At least scotch that’s only thirty years old.”

“It’s older than you, sweetheart.”

“My age hasn’t been much of a problem the rest of the night,” you shot back. 

You unfolded your legs, ever so slightly pushing up your skirt as he did. You knew Matt couldn’t see, but some part of you knew even more that he was picking up on your signals. 

That suspicion became something of certainty when he practically threw aside everything on the kitchen counter, large hands grabbing your hips. Within a matter of seconds, as though something had snapped, he had you placed on top of the cool wood, fingers splayed into your sides and mouth just inches away from yours. 

“You’re really playing the age card, huh?” his voice was raspy; bare, green eyes dark with lust. “You know nothing.”

You gave him a grin. “So teach me.”

Matthew Murdock’s lips were on yours before you’d even finished your sentence. Not unlike his hands, they were thick and calloused, bringing a thousand senses over you at once. He was clearly an experienced kisser - and a giving one too. Worlds away from the immature frat boys you’d spent the last few years gallivanting about with. 

He was right -you did know nothing. 

But that was just it, right? Matt was older than you - ten years, fifteen at the most. You’d slept around here and there but hell, nothing had been like this. Two minutes into whatever the fuck you were about to do and Matt had you shaking, cocky demanour gone; hands tangled in his hair and cunt begging, craving for a man you’d never even had before. 

Matt’s teeth tugged on your lower lip and you knew then you’d completely lost your mind. The moan that escaped your mouth only lulled him on, hands squeezing your hips even harder and pulling you closer towards him. 

You felt it then, pressed against your lower stomach. He was hard as fuck. 

“Stop teasing,” you grumbled. 

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Matt hissed. 

Still, he obliged. You wrapped your legs around his waist as he pulled you off the counter, carrying you over to the sofa. He held you with only one arm, free hand tangled in your hair and holding your lips on his. 

You both fell onto the couch, clothes flying everywhere. It didn’t matter how expensive your stupid vintage Chanel was then- it looked much better on his floor than it had ever had done on you. Matt’s shirt and pants followed suit, landing before yours in a crumpled pile. 

“You in some kinda fight club or something?” you paused, tangling your hand in Matt’s hair and pulling him back. Your free one followed down his torso, fingers ghosting across the pink ridges on his abs. No complaints here. 

“Less talking, sweetheart,” he brushed aside your comment. “=

“Who put you in charge?”

“Me,” his words were muffled, barely audible as he attached his lips to your neck. “You gonna do as I say?”

“Or what?”

“It wasn’t a question.”

Matt’s lips were quickly replaced by a calloused hand on your throat. He gave it a light squeeze, a wicked smile spreading across his face when your wise demeanor was suddenly gone. He pressed another kiss to your neck, then another, following up to your ear. 

“If it gets too much, you say - okay?”

“Yeah, of course,” you replied. “I promise I can take it.”

Another kiss, this time on the lips. “Good girl.”

You let out a whimper, brain not entirely sure what to focus on as Matt’s hands went to work. He kept one on your throat, squeezing it just enough to earn a moan out of you, the other creeping up your thighs and gently slipping inside you. That caught you by surprise - how gentle he was, and yet completely the opposite at the same time. 

Matt pushed you down into the cushions, hand still gripping your throat. His fingers curled inside you - back and forth, back and forth. A steady beat that hit the right spot over and over and over. Ecstasy took over your body like a rush, senses consumed by nothing but him. 

“Matt,” you murmured. “What about you?”

“Don’t worry about me, darling,” his voice was still gruff, holding some type of contagious venom at you for distracting him. “I’m getting plenty from this.”

And he was. He was getting everything. The quickening pace of your heart, the smell of you, the tiny moans and whimpers that escaped your mouth every time he so much as moved. It was exultation for him as well - and almost completely sinful, the way it made him feel. Not that he gave a fuck about any religious figure in that moment. The man was willing to spend an eternity repenting his sins if it meant just one night with you. 

You came quicker than you ever had with anyone - better than you ever had with anyone. It rushed over your body like a fountain of cold water, ripping from your stomach and up to your already-dysfunctional brain like the sharp drop of a rollercoaster. Falling, falling, falling, until Matt’s hands grabbed you and grounded, softly caressing your face, holding your jaw as you cried out his name. 

“You want to stop?” he gently asked. 

“No,” you sharply sat up, scowling. “Didn’t I say that I would tell you-”

“- careful with your tone, sweetheart.”

Matt grabbed you by the hips again, pulling you down into the sofa. The next few moments were unbearable in the best way - a blur of teeth on your neck, chest, stomach and thighs, barely even registering what was going on until you felt his tongue swipe over your folds. A cry escaped your mouth, still overstimulated from your last orgasm. 

“If you want something,” Matt popped his head up, shit-eating grin across his stupidly gorgeous face, “you should just say.”

“Stop fucking teasing.”

He moved back up towards you, brushing his lips against yours. “You make it so easy.”

With that, Matt placed his hands on your ass and hoisted you into his lap. He gave it one final slap before grabbing his dick and maneuvering into inside you - you couldn’t help but let out a moan of relief, dropping your head into his shoulder and gently biting his skin. 

“Didn’t take you for a biter,” he chuckled. Running a hand up your back, he dusted across your shoulder, large fingers finding place on your jaw. “Move.”

And move you did. 

It was heaven the way he felt inside you - his fingers had been one thing but this was incomparable. You didn’t give a fuck about a stranger’s neighbours at the best of times, but you had absolutely no respect in that moment for anyone belove or below (in more than one sense). You were loud and Matt fucking loved it. He couldn’t see you - couldn’t see your glazed over eyes or freshly bruised and bitten skin - but hell, you filled his other senses enough to make up for that. 

You kind of knew the minute you met that he had a big dick. It was in the way he held himself: confident, but humble. Funny, but in an unassuming way. And it hit just the right spot, repeatedly edging the same spot that his fingers had tired out just moments before. 

It went on for a few more minutes; you were completely lost in one another, brains barely able to comprehend that you’d known each other less than twelve hours. 

You didn’t need to tell Matt that you were - he knew, and rather than slowing it down so that you could revel in the last few moments, he picked up the pace; hand tightening on your throat, other squeezing your ass in a way that was sure to leave a mark in the morning.

Your second orgasm was indescribable - you opened your mouth to let out a yell and yet, it was silent. Your acrylics clawed up and down Matt’s back, digging into him in an attempt to ground yourself. That only egged him on, the sting adding to his euphoria as he came undone inside you. 

Matt laid you back down on the couch, pressing kisses to your jaw as he did. You frowned when he began shuffling about - then he produced his shirt from the floor. He maneuvered your arms so that he could pull it over your head, before reaching for a blanket from the back of the couch and wrapping it around your middle. 

“You’re amazing,” he murmured. “I’m gonna go get you a cloth. Don’t move.”

“I’m never moving,” you softly chuckled. 

He smiled. “Good.”

[rose24207]

hello, hope you’re doing well! can i request a normal!lando with a average salary, job, house, lifestyle etc with like a billionaire ceo reader except lando doesn’t know how much wealth she has as she is living with him with his average lifestyle. but one day lando somehow finds out about her wealth/ceo status and feels inadequate for her?

More than enough

Summary: Lando, living a modest life, discovers that his girlfriend is a secret billionaire CEO and battles his feelings until she reassures him that he is her home and true happiness.

Genre: normal!Lando, CEO!reader, angst, fluff

TW: None!

A/N: love it! I want more of this!! English is not my first language. I hope you enjoy it though! Requests are open and welcome!

P2

Masterlist

Lando’s life wasn’t glamorous, but it was good. He worked hard as a mechanic at a local garage, coming home each day with grease-stained hands and a sense of satisfaction from solving the day’s problems. His house was modest—a small two-bedroom in a quiet neighborhood. It wasn’t much, but it was home.

And it had become so much brighter since you moved in.

You’d been dating for almost two years, and Lando still couldn’t quite believe his luck. You were kind, funny, and effortlessly elegant. There was a grace to you that seemed out of place in his world, but you never made him feel lesser for it. You fit seamlessly into his life, cooking with him in his tiny kitchen, laughing over cheap wine, and cheering him on when he worked on his side project—a beat-up old car he dreamed of restoring.

He never questioned how you managed to adapt so easily. Sure, you didn’t talk much about your job, but you’d mentioned working in management, which made sense given how busy you often were with meetings.

Lando never doubted you. Until now.

It started with a package. Lando had been working late, his boss asking him to cover for a coworker, so he’d missed the courier who’d dropped it off. The label caught his attention immediately. The sender was listed as an investment firm he’d only ever heard of in passing, the kind that managed accounts for people with money he couldn’t even fathom.

Curiosity tugged at him as he set it on the counter. He wouldn’t have thought much of it if not for the name on the package: yours.

When you arrived home that evening, he tried to shrug it off.

“Hey, babe,” he greeted, his usual easygoing smile in place. “Something came for you today.”

You paused, your eyes flicking to the package on the counter. For a split second, your expression shifted—something almost imperceptible. But then you smiled, walking over to kiss his cheek. “Thanks for grabbing it.”

“What is it?” he asked casually.

“Oh, just some work stuff,” you replied, your tone breezy. “Nothing exciting.”

But the way you picked it up and carried it to your office without another word left Lando uneasy.

The second crack in the facade came a week later. Lando had been searching for a new wrench set online, scrolling through deals, when an email notification popped up on your laptop.

The subject line read: Quarterly Earnings Report.

Lando’s hand hovered over the mouse, guilt gnawing at him even as curiosity won out. He clicked.

The email was dense, full of numbers that made his head spin, but one thing was clear: the company wasn’t just successful—it was yours. Your name was listed at the top of the report, credited as the CEO. The realization hit him like a punch to the gut.

Lando sat back in his chair, staring at the screen. You’d never mentioned anything like this. Management, sure—but running a company worth billions? Living in his tiny house, working around his middle-class lifestyle as if it were second nature? Why hadn’t you told him?

You found him in the garage later that evening, tinkering with his project car. He was unusually quiet, his responses to your questions short and clipped.

“Lando, is something wrong?” you asked, leaning against the workbench.

He hesitated, his back to you, before finally turning around. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

You frowned, confused. “Tell you what?”

“That you’re a CEO. That you—” He gestured vaguely, his words failing him. “That you’re loaded, apparently.”

Your heart sank. “You went through my stuff?”

“No,” he said quickly, shaking his head. “It was an email. I wasn’t snooping, I swear. But you never mentioned it. Not once.”

You sighed, stepping closer. “Lando, I wasn’t hiding it to keep secrets from you. I just… I didn’t want it to matter.”

“Well, it kind of does,” he said bitterly, running a hand through his hair. “You’re out there running a billion-dollar company, and I’m here fixing cars in a tiny garage. How is that supposed to work?”

“Why wouldn’t it work?”

He laughed humorlessly. “Because I can’t give you what you’re used to. I can’t even come close. You’re slumming it here with me when you could have… I don’t know, someone who fits your world.”

“Lando, stop,” you said firmly, reaching for his hands. “I’m here because I want to be. With you.”

“But why?” he asked, his voice cracking. “You could have anyone.”

“I don’t want anyone else,” you said, your tone softening. “Lando, the life I had before you—yes, it was luxurious, but it was also lonely. You don’t realize how rare it is to meet someone who sees you for who you are, not what you have.”

He looked down at your hands in his, his expression conflicted. “But I can’t give you anything you don’t already have.”

“That’s not true,” you said, lifting his chin so he’d meet your eyes. “You’ve given me a home. A real one. You’ve given me love and laughter and late-night drives in your beat-up car. I don’t care about money, Lando. I care about you.”

His shoulders slumped, the weight of his insecurities pressing down on him. “It just feels like I’m not enough.”

“You are more than enough,” you said firmly. “And I’ll keep telling you that until you believe it.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the only sound the faint hum of the streetlights outside. Then Lando pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly.

“I love you,” he whispered.

“I love you too,” you replied, your voice steady. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

As he held you, Lando felt the tension slowly leave his body. He didn’t have all the answers yet, but one thing was clear: you weren’t with him for what he could give you. You were with him for who he was.

And that was a kind of wealth he’d never take for granted.

Thank you for reading!

Taglist: @ipushhimback, @ladyoflynx, @lewishamiltonismybf, @cmleitora, @hxxi3, @cherryblossom-92, @same1995, @amatswimming

[screamforyani]

sextape

warnings: smut, fluff, non-gf!au, oral (f receiving), no actual recording in spite of what the title implies

wc. 1.2k

you were officially going to die.

finals were coming up any day now and you’d spent the past couple of days drowning in homework and studying. there was currently no sunlight entering your room, merely the golden-yellowish hue of your lamp as you hurched over your desk, and you no longer felt human. you felt like a zombie. or something that subsisted solely on caffeine and energy drinks.

you jolted when ethan entering your room, but let out a relieved breath when you realized it was just him. he winced. “sorry, i didn’t mean to scare you. did i scare you? i probably scared you.”

you giggled, waving him off. “it’s fine, babe.”

“okay, cool,” ethan said, smiling sheepishly. then, he noticed the music playing from your speakers. “oh, hey. i like this song.”

you glanced over at your speakers, having completely tuned out the sound of the music, until you seemed to finally notice the deftones song playing in the background. “oh, yeah,” you hummed. “it helps me concentrate.”

“songs about sex help you concentrate?” ethan asked, a playful grin on his lips. he almost sounded teasing. 

you rolled your eyes. “it doesn’t matter what the songs about if i’m gonna tune it out anyways.”

“oh,” ethan hummed, seeming to understand. he closed your door behind himself, approaching your desk where you were sitting. “can i help you concentrate?”

“ethan, please,” you grumbled, already seeing where this was going. “all you’re gonna do is distract me.”

ethan kissed your cheek. “would that be all so bad?”

“yes,” you insisted, though when ethan wrapped his arms around your shoulders from behind your chair, you were more than a little tempted to forget the computer and heap of textbooks in front of you. god, he was such a distraction. a great one, actually, at a really awful time. “because you should be studying, too. we have to take the same exam in a week.”

“but you’ve been studying every day for two weeks straight. you need to take a break before you drive yourself crazy. all that thinking isn’t good for your pretty little head,” ethan groaned. his words simultaneously made you chortle and roll your eyes. “and besides, this song really reminds me of you.”

you mocked, “songs about sex remind you of me?”

“maybe,” ethan mumbled.

you spun around in your chair to face your boyfriend, officially distracted (with only him to blame), solely to see his dumb handsome face. you teased, “you’re really cute, you know?”

ethan immediately burst into a grin at the compliment. “you’re cuter.”

“i look like death.”

“maybe i like death.”

you were expecting him to deny it, to insist you were his cute, beautiful girlfriend like he often did, so that response caught you completely off-guard and you snorted. “you’re so weird.”

“you love me,” ethan said, beaming from ear to ear. 

you huffed, “who said that?”

“you.”

“no, i didn’t,” you denied, in spite of knowing it was far from the truth. in your head, memories of late nights spent on the phone with your boyfriend lingered on repeat. the hours ticking close to dawn and the daylight sneaking up on you as you both finally tried to get off the phone and go to bed, though not before issuing another i love you battle. which usually ended in one of you hanging up a billion years later after saying ‘i love you’ in order to get the last word.

“say it,” ethan urged, poking your arm. “say you love me. please?”

with those pretty brown eyes of his, it was impossible to say no. and it was equally impossible to lie to someone who had stolen your heart with those same pair of devilishly beautiful eyes. “i love you so much, ethan.”

“i know,” ethan replied with a giggle. 

and then he kissed you.

you didn’t know how it escalated. one second, you were kissing each other breathless in that chair, and the very next, you were essentially naked on your bed with ethan’s head between your thighs.

“fuck, ethan,” you moaned, tangling your fingers through his dark brown locks of hair. 

ethan loved the feeling of your hands tugging at his hair. he also loved hearing you calling out his name in pleasure, and the taste of you, and how you writhed from sensitivity.

the ocean takes me into watch you shaking

he had already made you cum once by now, but that was ethan. he never wanted to stop making you feel good, never wanted to stop pleasing you. he could eat you out for hours, just because he loved the look of bliss on your face and the euphoria in your shrill, high-pitched cries of his name.

“it’s… it’s too much,” you said, squeezing your eyes closed. your thighs tried to close, too, but ethan’s big hands held them firmly apart. 

“just one more time, baby. please?” he asked, looking at you with those big, brown eyes. “for me?”

fuck, he was irresistible. all you could do was nod your head, whimpering when he smiled and dipped back between your legs.

take me one more time

take me one more wave

take me for one last ride

you were so close to finishing. your second orgasm was right there in arm’s reach, dangled right in front of you, and your body was so sensitive that it couldn’t decide if it was running from its fate or if it wanted more.

moments later, you were cumming, crying out ethan’s name quite loudly (thank god your roommate wasn’t home and wouldn’t be for a while) and you trembled with orgasm, grabbing onto his hair as your vision clouded white for a while. ethan continued to suck at your clit through your high, and it drove you positively insane, all the stress fleeing from your body in numbers.

“holy fucking shit,” you panted when you came down from your high. 

holy fucking shit was right. ethan pulled back from you, lips covered in your arousal. you watched him lick it from the corners of his mouth and the sight drove you absolutely feral. 

“did i do okay?” ethan asked, glancing over at you with doe eyes.

you didn’t answer him, not verbally, just leaping up and swallowing his lips in another kiss. it was heated and passionate, and full of loving, and god was it lustful. it wasn’t long before you were throwing his shirt from above his head and he was holding your thigh as he thrusted inside you. 

the intrusion made both of you moan each other’s name, the pleasure building the deeper he went inside of you, filling you to the hilt. the heat throttled you both, making it harder to breathe, but you didn’t need to breathe as long as you had ethan - as long as you could feel his body on yours.

both of you were skin-on-skin, ethan leaning into you and pressing kisses to your neck and collarbone whilst you threaded your fingers through his hair and tugged just the way you knew he loved it. the room filled with the sound of your soft moans and your hips meeting together in perfect harmony.

the sound of the waves collide

the sound of the waves collide

the sound of the waves collide

tonight

[wingsoar]

"Shucks.   I   thought   as   much"   she   replied,   tone   playful.   "It   must   be   nice   getting   to   travel   around   with   someone   so   cute!   Two   if   you   count   Miss   March."

A   giggle   parted   rose-tinted   lips   and   then   her   head   canted   curiously.   "How   long   have   you   been   aboard   the   express?"

Since Robin had decided to visit, the atmosphere aboard the Express had become charged from the indelible presence of one of the celebrated celebrities in the cosmos. An ally he remembered from the Dreamscape in the flesh, someone he didn't mind seeing.

"I... might not. You can ask, but don't be surprised if they say no, Miss Robin," Dan Heng dissuaded politely as he came alongside the super star, keeping a polite proximity from her.

[kuromochimi]

“please babysit our baby for me” w/ jjk husbands

Nanami Kento, Suguru Geto

Content warnings: none, fluff!!, not proof read btw

Nanami Kento

Nanami was nothing short of being the perfect husband and the perfect father. The man literally lacked absolutely nothing at all. Having him as your partner was a billion times better than winning any lottery. He also loved your daughter very much. Loved braiding her hair and picking out cute little outfits for her and unexpectedly, you were the bad cop in this family because nanami could never help but spoil your precious princess that you sometimes have to scold him for buying too much toys or feeding your daughter sweets right before bed. Your schedules also worked perfectly together so that your daughter always had a parent with her most of the time and today just so happened to be nanami’s free day. A few moments before leaving, you gave nanami a kiss and a hug as you said

“Babe, can you babysit our princess today? Sorry to drop the responsibility on you but I’m going to be busy til tomorrow”

you said apologetically, with a small teasing giggle that you were able to suppress enough for nanami to not notice. Well, he wouldn’t have noticed it anyway because the man was baffled. Almost appalled even. “Sorry love, say that again?” Nanami said, clearly confused. “I said… can you babysit her for now?” Your sweet sweet husband’s mind was a mess. Did he do something wrong? Say something wrong? Acted out of line? “I- babysit? Love, love why would I have to babysit OUR daughter?” It was getting harder to not react to your husband’s response. “Oh did you not want to? I can take her to my mom’s place.” Nanami stood up to gently hug you “no no, that’s not what I meant, I’m just- baby why would I have to babysit a child that’s MINE as much as she’s yours? It’s the least I could do. You carried her for 9 months, went through birthing her and provided her with everything. Caring for her is the least I can do. Bare minimum. My responsibility as much as it’s yours”

It was meant to be a joke but you soften at that because nanami just never fails to sweeten your world and you couldn’t be more grateful.

Suguru Geto

Though it had to happen at a very young age for both you and suguru, adopting mimiko and nanako was something you would never regret. Honestly, you were a tad hesitant to agree when suguru first suggested the idea. In fact, he lowkey gave you an out by adopting the girls by only him at first since you two weren’t married yet. You were still in highschool at the time after all. But a couple years down the line, you eventually got married and legally adopted the girls as well. Having an addition to the family happened later on and now you were a family of five with a precious little baby girl as the newest addition. Having had mimiko and nanako, caring for your new baby girl wasn’t as difficult anymore. However, nowadays, your schedule and as well as your husband’s schedule made it so that it was hard to have days off together. It still is kind of in your favor as you can both take turns caring for your baby.

On some random day, the idea just popped out of nowhere. You approached suguru while he was getting ready for work. “Suguru?” He looked your way while he was buttoning his shirt. “Do you mind babysitting our little princess tomorrow? I know it’s not your day but i have plans in the evening” if a question mark could have a face, it would be how suguru looked at the moment. “What do you mean babysit?” He asked, bewildered. “Oh but no worries, if you don’t feel like it, I can always ask the twins to take care of her” you replied nonchalantly. Suguru took note of the difference in the terminologies you used. With him it’s babysitting but for the twins it’s taking care of the baby? Why did you even have to ask in the first place, it’s not like you had a strict schedule for watching the baby anyway. He was rambling in his head. “Baby, my love” he calmly called out. “Hm?” He sighed before speaking. “Did something happen? Did I say something to upset you?” and then you burst out laughing. “Baby I think something is wrong for real” he gave you a worried look which pushed you to stop laughing. “Sorry love, I was just pranking you. Love you” you spoke in between little giggles before giving your husband a back hug. “Jesus baby you scared me” he sighed with a gentle laugh.

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Lois Beckett at The Guardian:

Attacks targeting American public schools over LGBTQ+ rights and education about race and racism cost those schools an estimated $3.2bn in the 2023-24 school year, according to a new report by education professors from four major American universities. The study is believed to be the first attempt to quantify the financial impact of rightwing political campaigns targeting school districts and school boards across the US. In the wake of the pandemic, these campaigns first attempted to restrict how American schools educate students about racism, and then increasingly shifted to spreading fear among parents about schools’ policies about transgender students and LGBTQ+ rights.

Researchers from UCLA, UT Austin, UC Riverside and American University surveyed 467 public school superintendents across 46 US states, asking them about the direct and indirect costs of dealing with these volatile campaigns. Those costs included everything from out-of-pocket payments to hire to lawyers or additional security, to the staff member hours devoted to responding to disinformation on social media, addressing parent concerns and replying to voluminous public records requests focused on the district’s teachings on racism, gender and sexuality. The campaigns that focused on public schools’ policies about transgender students often included lurid false claims about schools trying to change students’ gender or “indoctrinating” them into becoming gay. This disinformation sparked harassment and threats against individual teachers, school board members and administrators, with some of the fury coming from within local communities, and even more angry calls, emails and social media posts flooding in from conservative media viewers across the country.

In addition to the financial costs of responding to these targeted campaigns, the study revealed other dynamics, the researchers said. “The attack on public officials as pedophiles was one I heard again and again, from people across extremely different parts of the country: rural, urban, suburban. It speaks to the way that this really is a nationalized conflict campaign,” said John Rogers, an education professor at the University of California, Los Angeles, and the lead author of the study. The frequency with which both school board members and school superintendents were “being called out as sexual predators – it was really frightening”, Rogers said. Superintendents from across the country told the researchers how these culture battles had affected their schools, and cut into resources they would have preferred to spend on education.

[...] While disagreement, debate and dealing with angry parents are a normal part of local public school administration, the researchers noted, the political campaigns that schools have faced in recent years have been anything but normal. Many of them have been driven by “a small number of active individuals on social media or at school board meetings”, and fueled by misinformation. The school-focused campaigns, which started with claims that elementary and middle schools were harming white students by teaching critical race theory and later shifted to attacks on schools’ policies for transgender students, were nationally organized, with “common talking points” that could be traced back to conservative foundations and rightwing legal organizations, and were intensely amplified by rightwing media coverage, Rogers said.

Public schools across the US burned up nearly $3.2BN worth of money fending off right-wing culture war items such as book bans, anti-LGBTQ+ extremism, anti-student inclusion, and anti-racial equity policies.

See Also:

The Advocate: U.S. public schools lost $3.2 billion fighting conservative culture wars: report

[sunboki]

001. RECORD PLAYER LOVER — ANTHOLOGY

PAIRING. Christopher Bahng x fem. reader | WORD COUNT. 3.3k & 20 minute read | SERIES PLAYLIST. | WARNINGS. cursing | TROPE. enemies to lovers (somewhat), fishing town au, friends to lovers, coincidences, making-up (in a way)

( ✉️ ) — if you want an idea of where the small town boy! chan brainrot came from, seek this post back in july.. it only got worse from there(＞＜)

There’s a new guy working at the Record Shop you’d been to countless times as a kid. So when you show up and see a stranger working the register and not the sweet old man who’d give you lollipops, you’re not too pleased.

The last time a new face showed up in your town had to be before you were born, and as someone nearing twenty-one, that said a lot.

On the bright side, there wasn’t much judgment unless it came from choosing the wrong batch of strawberries in front of a grandmother, or perhaps that was simply your experience living here all your life.

Although, twenty-one years later, you didn’t expect for someone new to show up.

.

.

.

Familiar chimes clatter above your head while opening the door, bright blue label reading “Po’s Vinyl” decorating the windows and staining the tile floors an iridescent tone from the midday sunlight. It’s pretty, it’s ordinary.

Except something isn’t ordinary, because after a good few minutes or so of browsing, your normal stop by the register stops you in your tracks.

Clad in a black beanie with bouncy, tangled curls peeking from the fabric is a stranger. A stranger with toned arms and a pretty nose and kind features you stare at for too long.

But he’s not the grandpa, not Mr. Po who’s been dearly greeting you each and every day for more than twenty years.

Your stomach drops.

“Excuse me, excuse me,” You scramble to the counter, his warm pools for eyes flickering up with surprise. “Where’s the old man- Mr. Po- the one who works here?”

“Oh! Mr. Po? He retired a few days ago.”

Now your stomach decided to do backflips, and there’s a pit of nausea climbing up your throat.

Curse the boy in front of you for looking so happy-go-lucky. This moment is detrimental, why is he smiling? …And why is he cute?

Preparing to ask a billion questions, you pause, fixing the handsome man with an incredulous look before he catches onto your confusion.

”Sorry sorry, I’m Chris, ‘moved in last night. And you?”

Debating upon either running out the door right now to end up apologizing later, you crack a small smile you hope looks a tad bit more graceful than earlier.

Chris, huh.

“Y/n,” You reply, noting the soft dip of his dimples. “And uh.. you haven’t met Miss May yet, right?”

The question, coming off as more of a warning than anything, earns a sheepish shake of his head noticing your pitying expression.

Granted, the woman wasn’t that awful, she’s just.. Miss May. An unmarried, stubborn, seventy year old prune who will rightfully argue with anybody about anything and rightfully enjoy it. Not to mention her addiction to finding a suitable lover, and not just for herself.

Trust, once she lays eyes on this breathtaking hunk of husband in front of you she’ll never leave him alone. Might as well treasure your days until you’re stuck in the witch’s dungeon.

“Can I ask what you mean by that?“

Spaced out watching his lips move, you barely caught the question till he cleared his throat and every particle in your body resorted to self sabotage.

Way to make an introduction.

Opening your mouth to respond, you choke on your words, hastily run behind the counter and whisper-scream for him to duck at the sight of said woman passing by the window.

Speak of the devil.

At his attempt to peek out, your hand unconsciously forces his head down, slapping on your best “nothing to see here!” façade while the heel-wearing matchmaker saunters in.

“Why hello dear,” She casually drawls, thin brows raised.

The woman slowly grins, stepping forward to lean over the counter and peer down where Chris hides blinking up beside your calf.

“You can come out now.” She says with a chuckle, and he hesitantly raises up, face blooming pink.

Erupting with obvious delight, she claps her claws hands together, and you can feel the dread creeping in from a mile away.

“My my, I didn’t know you two knew each other- -“We don't!” Shouting in unison, you synonymously turn to each other, nothing but utter puzzlement etched across your faces. It’s like something out of a sitcom. Literally.

“He’s Chris,” Nervously, you refer to the man with an uncertain point of your finger, him doing the same.

You’re certain if this situation got any more awkward you may win a spot in the book of world records.

Miss May amusedly shook her head. “So you do- -“No!”

She might as well have been internally arranging a wedding by the way she stared through your souls, neither of you daring to move a muscle out of fear she might pop a ring out of her ass and declare you engaged if you breathed loud enough.

“Alright alright, I’ll leave you two to your business then.” Waving like some pretentious heiress, you make sure to mock the action once her back is turned—Chris stifling a bubbling laugh beside you when she finally leaves.

You have an itch this won’t be the last time she stops by. You’ll just pray it won’t be when you’re within a six foot radius of both this shop and the man next to you.

Sorry Chris, it’s every man to themselves with Miss May.

Brushing off your clothes, you step back slightly, not realizing how close you’d gotten to him before nearly bumping into the dark-haired man. And, in the least weird way possible (that's still weird), from your closeness, you discover he smells like the ocean. Not too salty, not too strong. Like the sea’s air clings to his clothing.

Considering he got here a day ago, he must’ve stopped by the harbor on his way here. Strange.

“I’m.. gonna go. See you sometime?” Heading toward the door, you spare a glance behind you, vision again magnetically pulled down to his lips—so plush and pretty, then back to those equally pretty eyes that crinkle when he smiles goodbye. A nervous habit.

Who knew a potential heartthrob would show up here out of all places.

Guess things were finally getting interesting.

Your trek home wasn’t too eventful, unless you counted locating Mr. Po, begging him to come back, and avoiding the severely bitter tea he kept offering—then yeah, not too eventful.

Jamming the key in your door and being sure to successfully waste at least three hours forcing the newest addition to town out of mind, you’d like to say by the time 6pm rolled around he was completely void of your thoughts, but the coffee stain on your shirt after imagining his face said differently.

Best part about not having a neighbor? Walking around without a top, bottoms, or anything on was always on the table. Sort of gross, but you get the picture.

Best part about not having a neighbor yet.

You should’ve put the pieces together sooner, because already halfway into pulling your shirt up off your head did you notice a pair of eyes meeting yours from the other, usually vacant house next door.

Chris’ eyes. Unmistakable and currently swimming with horror.

It wouldn’t surprise you if you looked the same right now.

Urgently yanking the fabric back over your body, you practically throw yourself down, met with nightmare-fueling reality and too much embarrassment to properly function nor rise from your squat on the floor.

Moved in last night, he’d said. But the one thing he forgot to mention was that he moved in right next door.

Fucking. Fantastic.

. ..

Over the next five days, you’ve come to the conclusion that Chris makes music. Or something involving headphones, his finger tapping a beat, and the occasional nod of his head to a rhythm—observations made from peeking out the window each evening.

It’s sort of mesmerizing watching him routinely click buttons. Like, in a sense, you learned the first clue about his life before telling him your name.

That is until he rises and you prepare to duck, fixated on his adam's apple bobbing when he swallows, pretty, still damp strands of dark hair crowning his forehead.

The last thing you need is for him to catch you ogling after having witnessed you half naked, something that would, quite literally, be the cherry on top of demolishing your ego.

Knowing him though (after only physically meeting once), he’d probably gladly forgive and forget, but you couldn't, and that was the problem. Couldn’t shake that incessant pit in your stomach telling you if it were anyone else you’d be able to move on.

Anyone other than him, other than Chris.

Something about him. There was something about him.

On the other hand, Chris couldn’t forget either. The image permanently tattooed in his brain for what felt to be eternity.

Not just your body (and also your body), but you, the incredibly attractive new acquaintance he’d met hours beforehand was, coincidentally enough, his neighbor.

And it didn’t take a genius to figure out you were avoiding him since, frankly, it was virtually impossible not to run into everyone in this town at least once a day.

He was a nice guy, so he gave you your space. Nevertheless, that didn’t keep him from picking some fun from time to time.

Like yesterday when he’d noticed you standing by your sink, repeatedly stealing not-so-sneaky glimpses.

Slyly deciding on honing the most nonchalant move in the book, he stretched. Rolling his head back, a tiny bit of his abdomen becoming visible when his arms raised up, and even sighing just to add to the ambiance.

Trying not to laugh had never been so difficult in his life.

Regardless, avoidance never lasted forever, and seeing you practically tiptoe around town was too obvious not to pay mind to.

So when the door to Po’s Vinyl creaked open during his evening shift, he craned to greet the customer, only to be met with bare space. Well, prior to noticing your hunched frame stalking through aisles, crouched down rather comically.

Biting his tongue, he watched you scour like a mad-woman, finally stilling in front of at a new arrival, the latest album restocked yesterday.

Turns out you were fated to run into each other again somehow. One way or another.

Maybe this was his chance to clear things up, or maybe that was the wrong move, maybe it would mess everything up and you’d move away and— Oh. You’re in front of him now, pale as a ghost and religiously averting eye contact.

“This,” You mutter, barely forming coherent sentences while sliding the album forward, hand wildly fishing through your bag in search of your wallet.

He stays quiet, periodically fixating on your expressions while scanning the barcode. Debating, contemplating.

“Hey can we—“

“Sorry! I really need to go to the vendors today, another time?” Scrambling, you snatch your purchase and rush off, ceasing to take note of the playful smirk painting his features.

He has an idea, an idea that may or may not work.

He’ll test his luck.

Spending the majority of his shift waiting for you to pass by again, he immediately locks onto your frame sprinting past an hour or so later.

Stepping from the store and calling out your name multiple times, it only makes you walk faster in response, leaving him to gradually catch up and move in front of you.

You try slipping past each side, finding yourself blocked every time. Your brows knit frustratedly.

“Y/n, can we talk, please?”

You sigh, stalling your movement to cross your arms and send him a taut gaze.

He can tell you hate this, hate standing here and especially hate his invitation, but the small, curt nod he got after a few seconds was enough.

Perhaps, that “maybe” would turn out true. The chance to clear things up.

He hoped.

. ..

“Look, I didn’t see anything.”

“Liar.” You grumble, jogging to keep pace without heading anywhere in particular.

If only you were a toddler and could throw a tantrum to get out of this due to simply being petty. Except you couldn’t. You were an adult, and you had to handle the situation like one.

What bullshit.

Flailing his arms helplessly, he tugged his jacket tighter against his body, the chilling air only dropping further as you neared the ocean.

“I’m not lying! Seriously!” Voice childish whilst avidly squirming around, the sound of gray rocks clattering beneath your shoes muffles your conversation.

He halts suddenly and you do the same, ceasing to acknowledge how far you’d aimlessly walked till the Lighthouse, located on the furthest side of town, looms above.

There’s a good minute of silence, interrupted by clearing his throat and simultaneously sending you a mischievous glance.

“Although,” He begins. “That red color was cute.”

You blink, watching as he gestures to his chest before swiftly dodging your swinging fist, looking mere seconds from exploding.

It’s sort of adorable.

Adorable in a dangerous, likely-to-kill-you way. But adorable.

Albeit expecting you to drown him, sucker punch him or suffocate him (quite possibly all three), you alternatively grab his hand, dragging him towards the Lighthouses’ entrance and up the winding rails.

Chris doesn’t interject nor pull away, face instead broken into a sweet smile while following you, observing you.

Arriving at the top that overlooked blue cascades, you sit down, not caring to explain with your knees pulled to your chest. He doesn’t mind.

It’s hard not to admire the endless abyss of water overwhelming every expanse in view, the moon’s glint scattering upon its surface. Wind whips your hair in wild directions, and it’s rather cold now above ground level.

Chris quietly hikes up the last few stairs behind you, easing off his jacket to drape around your shoulders—earning a hum of appreciation as he drops down on your right.

Silence.

“Hey, um, thanks.” He speaks, but his voice is softer this time, sadder this time, and if it weren’t for you two being mere inches apart you doubt you would’ve heard it.

“For what?”

“Nothing important. Just, thanks.” Peering at you with a tilt of his head, you decide not to pry, reflecting his subtle happiness.

Being completely honest, you don’t have the first clue of what Chris’ life was like before here. Somehow, it felt better staying that way. We all have secrets, and in a sense, this seemed to be his escape, his own secret.

Whatever his history entailed, you’re glad it led him to Seoul. Lead him to you.

“Awe,” You shove his shoulder lightly and the man pouts, cheeks dusted pink from the biting cold while his eyes stay trained on the sea, glimmering.

You sit there for a few minutes, listening, appreciating.

“Say, ‘wanna swim?”

The sky dark overhead, Chris gives you an incredulous look, wondering if you’re joking.

He’s quiet, eventually nodding and nearly toppling down the circular stairs after you, hastily pulling off your shoes to run through sand and scattered shells.

It’s stupid, so stupid swimming in freezing cold water at night.

Something the you who didn’t know Chris wouldn’t ever consider. But now he was here, currently taking off his shirt and— shit. He’s taking off his shirt. Holy shit.

Unfortunately, you weren’t given much time to be shocked (and mystified) before being picked up and literally thrown in, clothing and all very much intact.

Sputtering as you surfaced, you instinctively covered your top half, earning a giggle from the greek god of a man a few feet away, calf deep in the water.

“What’re you all shy for? ‘S not like I haven’t seen your—“ Now it’s his turn to be dunked, and you’re more than happy to force his curls into the water below, both drenched and shivering.

This is like a fever dream. Like you’ll wake up in your cozy bed to never have any of this happen in the first place. Never have had Chris happen in the first place.

Unable to contain the question, words basically pour out at an alarming pace the moment you open your mouth.

“Are you real?”

Because the moment feels too good to be true.

You both stop.

“Am I real? What, wanna find out?” He cockily points to his flexed arm, leaning your way while you shrink back, face contorted with disgust.

Best to have kept that one to yourself, but hell, you’d give in just this once.

Wading closer, you wrap your arms around his tummy in a sticky, uncomfortable hug. Chris doesn’t pull back though. Alternatively, he reaches up to pat the back of your head, surprised expression transforming into that of fondness.

You stay that way, wordlessly confessing so many things in a minute and a half as the stinging breeze seems to rattle your bones. Things you don’t have the courage to say aloud, things Chris understands all the same.

Walking home was a blur, filled with shapes and colors you barely recognized till the sound of a door opening knocked you back onto your feet.

Too cold to comprehend anything, you both race into separate rooms, coming to the realization this isn’t your home when searching for a towel to cover yourself.

Not your home, but his.

And you wonder if his setup is still situated directly in front of your window like normal. Wonder if, possibly, it was a coincidence you were now in the house you’d been staring daggers into for weeks, or if it all was a twist of fate.

How funny.

There’s quiet, childish interaction as he knocks on the door, sheepishly handing you a pair of his shorts and a t-shirt while his eyes stay glued to the floor.

Yet you can’t bring yourself to tease despite how bad the urge is, because he’s just him.

And you’re wearing his clothes. That too.

A hair dryer seated on his bathroom counter catching your eye, you pop your head out the door, yelling to Chris who’s busied himself somewhere in the living room.

“Hey Chris! Want me to dry your hair for you?” You shout, and he shuffles to make out what you said, practically lighting up witnessing you wearing his clothes.

The view is better than he could’ve ever imagined.

Laughter fills the air, all squeaky and high-pitched with you seated above him on the couch, occupying the floor while drying his wild curls that fly in every direction.

Clicking the off button, his head falls back to look at you, long eyelashes dusting and perfectly framing chocolate brown orbs. He’s practically glowing, and cupid has to be lingering nearby by how fast your heart thumps in your chest.

“…Can I spend the night?”

Whispering, you carefully place your hands on either side of his face, glancing back and forth erratically between his eyes and lips.

You don’t notice how close you are, a habit picked up from the start. He draws you in like a Siren, and you’re more than happy to senselessly follow his song.

His lips part, breathlessly uttering.

“Yes.”

And before you know it, you’re capturing his lips just as senselessly, kissing the man as if a near microscopic thread connected the both of you.

That is until Chris took charge, pulling your right-side up face against his upside down lips. Deeper, hungrier.

Crashing, like the moon-reflected waves you’d seen earlier. Messy and greedy, fervent. So many feelings, so many words without sound. You were good at doing that.

You’d like to admit it lasted for a few seconds, but from how you managed to somehow end up in his lap in the process, that definitely wasn’t the case.

“Here,” Chris says, handing you a warm mug of tea and settling beside you on the couch once you finally finished eating each other's faces, TV playing continuous episodes of Friends that numbly buzz your eardrums.

Neither of you spoke apart from exchanging drinks, atmosphere comfortable, exhaustion growing the longer you sat. Your eyelids began to droop before your head (unbeknownst to you) plopped onto his shoulder.

Initially Chris tensed, waking up from his own dazed daydream to marvel at the now sleeping beauty, you, cozied up against him.

He stared for a while, taking in what small interactions deprived him of. Those tiny details of you, the imperfect perfections. Beautiful.

Brushing a stray strand of hair from your face, he smiles—one that he can’t contain, one that hurts his cheeks from how big and bright it is.

“I’m so glad we met.”

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