#totally normal ski content

[m3dieval]

[Source]

[bronzebluemind]

It’s been 0 weeks since the World Cup finale, 17 weeks to go until sgp and 34 weeks to go until next season.

[rex-rambles]

➤ COPYCAT (SMAU + FIC)

pairing: lando norris x influencer!reader

summary: Lando tries to get your attention the only way he knows how: by copying your Instagram.

wc: 5k

warnings: none :) photos from pinterest

➤ MASTERLIST

Liked by lando, yourbestfriend and others

yourusername Ever considered going and touching some grass?

↳ yourbestfriend when I told you you could borrow my sandals I didn't think you'd CLIMB A TREE IN THEM

              ↳yourusername 😘😘😘

↳ y/nfan23 bringing a whole new meaning to tree hugger

↳ 4_the_win Lando Norris we see you lurking

_

Liked by oscarpiastri, quadrant, and others

lando was told to go touch grass

↳ quadrant could've tagged us?? 

         ↳ lando @/quadrant

↳ mclar_win the little car 🥺 i can't

↳ ln444 father nature

           ↳  brocedes 👀

_

Was Lando being a little on the nose? Maybe. 

But he had a hypothesis, and despite the fact he hadn't been in a science class in years, he wanted to test it. You were some travel influencer, your feed filled with the kind of content that made it seem effortless, from the smiles to the outfits to your friends. It was the kind of care free that Lando couldn't help but fall for, but there was no way he would message you.

What would he say? That he thought you were pretty? That he thought you were interesting? That he was an F1 driver and obviously should get the girl in the end? There was nothing he could think to say to get this to work, so rather than approaching you, he was going to get you to approach him. 

Flawless plan, obviously, and the first step was to follow you, and then make a post with similar interests. Your latest post was out in the wild with pottery to match, so Lando found some photos from the latest Quadrant shoot out in nature, and then, because he needed it to be authentic, he dragged his friends out to some play-with-clay place and made his own little clay car, like a normal, sane man.

"Can you not think so loud?" Oscar asks up at him from his position on the floor at the airport. "It's making my brain hurt." 

"Do you think I'd do pottery?" Oscar blinks up at him, though Lando ignores him to refresh his likes and comments, thinking maybe, that first lure would work. 

"Do I think you'd do pottery?" Oscar repeats in disbelief. "Like, as a hobby?" 

"Is it believable?" The only thing, however, is he needed no one else to notice he was posting strangely. Everything had to seem like a regular, Lando Norris post to not raise suspicion. He doubted your audiences overlapped, but one could never be sure.

Oscar groans, tossing a balled-up receipt at him. "Is that about your Instagram post?" He says and Lando flips him off. Oscar returns the gesture. "I mean, sure, it's believable. People will believe anything these days." 

"But am I pottery guy?" 

"I've had enough of this." With that, Oscar rises and says something about finding a snack, and Lando watches him go in disbelief.

"Oscar? Am I a pottery guy?" The Australian doesn't turn around, and Lando doesn't care about causing a scene. "Oscar!" 

_

Liked by lando, yourbestfriend, and others

yourusername out of the woods and into the mountains 😌 ↕️

↳ yourbestfriend quit being cute and come keep me warm 

         ↳ y/nfan23 me too??

↳ user510 the prettiest!! now go get real winter boots

_

Liked by maxfewtrell, 4_the_win, and others

lando 🏔 🏔 🏔

↳ ln444 didn't you already post this trip?? 

↳ maxfewtrell ❄️ 🎯

↳ 4_the_win @/yourusername you've got a copycat

         ↳ user510 literally their last two posts match

_

You used emojis. It was a stupid detail to focus on, but Lando could totally use emojis and make it seem normal. He'd used emojis before. And, it wasn't really creepy, because you had posted a ski trip: you already actually had that in common. Wasn't anything Lando needed to fake, just posting more of his last trip, but then he had spotted the emoji, and rather than stewing over the caption, he'd posted some of a mountain. 

And then that first comment rolled in. Sure, he was a copycat, but how could anyone notice that after two posts? Fans were fantastic and terrifying at the same time, somehow knowing all his personal information far before he was comfortable with it being out there. But, hopefully, you'd feel the same. Two similar posts are just a coincidence, really. He might be a copycat, but nothing out of the blue. 

Then, terrifyingly, you follow him back, and Lando's heart stops. 

-

So. You weren't exactly well-versed in the world of motorsports, so a Formula One driver following you had taken you by surprise. Plenty of famous people followed you, much to your confusion, but this just added to it. Lando was some big racer, his photos and content (not that you had found his Youtube channel and watched the last ten videos to catch yourself up with whatever it is he did) were so relaxed and yet hyper, luxuries mixed into everyday living. You had little in common, even as you scroll through all his photos. His latest is of some ski trip, similar to your own, even if you were terrible at skiing. With his athleticism, he probably fared much better than you did.

His next is some merch shoot, intermixed with a little clay car, and you can't help but smile at it, having made enough of your own little clay creations over the years to appreciate the attention to detail, right down to the little driver's helmet. 

So you followed back, even if there was nothing you had in common, really. He was a new kind of adventure, and if something came of it, great, and if you just remained on the sidelines of each other's accounts, then so be it. 

_

Liked by lando, ln444, and others

yourusername finally got some photos developed

↳ yourbestfriend those photos are so old???

       ↳ yourusername so are my texts you haven't answered??

↳ ln444 if Lando posts film pics...

        ↳ 4_the_win 👀 👀 👀

_

Liked by yourusername, yourbestfriend, and others

lando finally got some photos developed

↳ danielricciardo if the whole racing thing doesn't work out, want to be my photographer?

↳ 4_the_win THE FILM PHOTOS!!

        ↳ user510 @/yourusername

        ↳ ln444 they're lurking too!

        ↳ y/nfan23 not everything is connected 🙄

        ↳ ln444 the captions are the exact same

_

He liked taking photos! So what if they were film? So what if you had just posted film photos? So what if he used the same caption? So what if you liked the post and made Lando stare at his phone for about an hour, willing you to message him? That was normal behaviour. He was just a photographer, really, with a massive crush on someone who did not know he existed and probably thinks he's creepy for posting all the same photos as them. He needed to get a grip, but he didn't really have time for that. 

Actually, he had all the time in the world right now, but he wanted to pretend that he didn't. To film an advertisement for them, Hilton was giving him and his friends a free week in Bora Bora, which so far had been an incredibly serene experience, giving him ample time to stew over whether or not he was wasting his time, whether he should just ask you out, or whether he was being crazy.

Currently, he leans on the balcony, taking in the soft waves below him, wondering if meditating on them would take away the chaos in his brain. He was so lucky to have experiences like this, to have the job that he did, but he was only human. He could only avoid his thoughts for so long, be grateful for so much. He wanted to enjoy all that he was given, but he was finding it hard when his phone was burning a hole into his pocket. 

It buzzes, and he wrenches his phone out to stare at a text from Max. 

Max 🎮 🤢 

get outside, now

ur going to regret it if u don't

With a sigh, Lando makes his way through their shared villa, over the clothes tossed across their little lounge floor, and he steps out onto the walkway that connects all the villas over the water, and he almost walks directly into you, and in the seconds it takes to understand that you are stood in front of him, and not hidden behind a phone secret, he thinks he might shit himself. 

"This is Lando Norris!" The Hilton representative explains from your side, and the smile you send his way does something strange to his stomach. "He's also here to film an advertisement." 

"You're here to film?" The words leave Lando's mouth before he can even introduce himself, and you offer a surprised look. 

"Just some content, nothing major." Then, making his heart flutter more than he thought it could, "We follow each other on Instagram, right? You're a driver." 

"Yeah!" He responds enthusiastically, before thinking it might seem weird. "You post travel stuff, right?" You nod, shifting the bag on your shoulder. He should probably not be distracting you, considering you just got in, and are probably jet lagged or tired or your bag is heavy, but his brain can't quite figure out how to make you interested in him while also letting you go. "Makes sense for you to work with Hilton." 

Makes sense for you to work with Hilton? He could hit himself in the face with a brick, he really could. "A free place to stay never hurts! Plus they've got some great locations." You say with a laugh, and it sounds so rich in person, rather than through his phone's speakers.

"They've got a ski resort, in the States." You like skiing. He likes skiing. He's not a copycat. "It's next on my list to stay at." 

"Oh yeah, I saw you went skiing. Where were you?" Oh god no. 

You saw his post. That's exactly what he wanted to happen. But that also means you might've seen the comments about him copying you, and you might be bringing it up to show that you know. Or, you're just being nice and making conversation, or you're actually interested in him, and despite being fast on the track, Lando can't quite handle the speed at which his brain is working. "The, uh, Swiss Alps. Fantastic time. You...also ski." 

"I do," You answer somewhat awkwardly. Of course you ski! "Not always the best at it, but I try." 

"I'm not either, but I'm be more than happy to lend you some tips if you ever need." That's more charismatic, he thinks as he flashes a smile. He's salvaging what he can in a very short amount of time. 

"I might take you up on that." You begin to walk away before turning back and rendering his heart still. "I'll see you around?" 

"Yeah, I'll see you." 

-

Lando Norris being on your first big sponsored trip was not exactly the outcome you had expected, but you weren't complaining. You may or may not had try to find him every where you went, enjoying the view of him suntanning with friends, the way his curls ran wild with both the water and humidity. 

Maybe you were forming a crush on a man who you only really knew over Instagram, but none of your friends were here to judge you for it, so you allowed it. "You here with anyone?" One of Lando's friends ask, leaning beside you at the bar of the little restaurant on the resort. Lando either wasn't interested or was too awkward or shy to approach, choosing rather to bury his face in his hands. It wasn't the kind of question you wanted to answer a random man, and luckily, he seems to pick up on it. "Let me rephrase that. If you're not here with anyone, and are interested in the company, you're more than welcome to join us for dinner." 

"That would be..." Lovely, really, but it seems weird to accept a stranger's invitation out of the blue, but maybe this was Lando's way of getting you to come over, and maybe this was your way of stepping out of your comfort zone. "Great, thanks." 

Lando's friend leads you over to their table, where everyone shifts seats to leave the only open spot in the booth beside Lando, who even in the dimly lit restaurant light, you can tell is blushing profusely. "I'm sorry about him," He whispers as you sit. "Did he do anything?" 

"Just invited me to join you for dinner, which is too kind of you. I typically solo travel, so it can get a bit lonely." All eyes at the table land on you, taking in the words you had really meant for just Lando to hear.

"You've been meaning to do some solo travelling, haven't you Lando?" His friend beside him says, playfully jabbing him in the side. Lando shoves him back with an infectious smile, and you try to ignore the implications of such a comment. 

You were just some random person he followed. Wasn't anything out of the ordinary. They were just making conversation, being nice, but you can't help but dig deeper. "Oh?" 

"I'd just love to travel anywhere," Lando fills in, his blush now spread to the tips of his ears. "But I'd prefer it with company." 

"I get that. Friends make things better, to an extent." He shifts next to you, shoulder grazing yours, and you try not to immediately offer him company whenever he's travelling next. You were the one out of your depths here, so you focus on a fun anecdote rather than offering your time up to him. "Some trips end with us wanting to kill each other." 

"I know the feeling!" Lando's friend offers over the table with a shit-eating grin. "The amount of random shit this guy pulls us along to? What was it last time, pottery?" 

Pottery? Lando pulls a face and you remember the little clay car, and you slowly begin to pick up on whatever strange atmosphere his friends have created. Travel, pottery, your interests. Not his. "You do pottery?" 

"I wanted to try, yeah. Made a little car." Then, he awkwardly fiddles with a fork, before asking, "Do you...do pottery?" 

It's a bit too on the nose. You've showed off your pottery enough on your account that it'd be obvious, unless he wasn't interested, which was certainly an option. The other was that he didn't want you to know that he knew you liked pottery, which was a strange little mindfuck that didn't quite make sense. "I love it, it's just a great artistic outlet, though it's messy and expensive." You say slowly, taking in everyone's ravenous gazes. "I have a friend with a studio that I go visit." 

"I've only ever done the cheap places." Lando says, eyes glued to the fork in hand. 

"You should go visit their studio, Lando!" Another of his friends says, and Lando's head shoots up to offer an expression you don't catch. You are most certainly caught in the middle of something, and you're not sure if you like being stuck by Lando's side yet. "Make your own trophy." 

"I bet you have plenty of trophies already." You interject with, and Lando turns to look at you with a raised brow. "Don't you?" 

There's a pause as a waiter arrives with menus, and without much thought, Lando hands you one without any prices listed on it, before he continues. "Yeah, a good couple. I don't like to brag." It's a humble thing for a famous person to admit, though you know his social media presence says otherwise.

"Tell that to the photos you post." You say as you peer over at his menu to try and take in the prices. You were working on a travelling budget, as while the hotel might've been free, the food most certainly isn't.

"Hey!" Lando almost shouts as he smacks his menu over yours, offering a soft scowl as his friends laugh around him. You try to check one of the prices for the drinks, fingers grazing over his paper, and he folds it away. "Don't worry about paying," He says quietly, needing to lean in to be heard. "It'll make up for whatever these idiots say-" 

"Lando's a good photographer, even does film and shit." The words cut through Lando's sentence, but it doesn't stop you from being one to blush now. He was paying for your dinner, which you suppose is a nice enough gesture from a millionaire. Well, you think he must be a millionaire, at least, considering the expensive clothes and the cars.

"You also use film, right?" Lando asks, still not quite authentic in his tone. It's like the whole conversation had been rehearsed, and your brain trips over the thought that Lando is trying to find things in common with you, especially considering his last posts.

"Yeah." You answer, somewhat awkwardly. "It's also expensive, but I like having tangible photos to remember trips by. Digital is great, it's my whole career, but it doesn't beat the real thing." 

Lando smiles, nodding along as you talk, and you try to ignore the faces of everyone else around you as he continues. "I feel the same way." He says, fairly earnestly in answer as he drums his fingers against the wood. "Do you have a film preference?" 

"Do you know the Olympus cameras? Like Olympus OM-4?" 

"Uh, yeah. Totally." An obvious lie, now. You'd wish he'd say something real about himself, rather than just forcing everything on you. It was nice to be cared about, to be thought about, but at this rate? You were the star of a show you hadn't signed up for.

"Well, I just got one, and it's been great for travel, it's nice and light, but has its downsides. What do you use?" You've caught him in his lie there, and he blinks at you for a moment before realizing he can't make his way out of that one. 

You watch him deflate before you, and you wonder if he puts this kind of stance on for everyone. Surely, you weren't special, you try to reason. He obviously would try to seem as interesting to as many people as possible. "Anything I can find," He states, a new, lower tone to his voice. "Lots of little disposable cameras." 

"I bet that's probably easiest with all the travelling and racing. What's that like? Being an F1 driver?" You finally let him take over the conversation, and rather than becoming lively or confident again, he shrugs.

"Nothing interesting, really." You offer him an unimpressed look, and he can't help but laugh. "Fine, it's fantastic, but I don't just want to brag about myself all night. I've just been doing racing so long I'd rather talk about other things." 

"How long?" You say, prying for more, and Lando's head tilts in confusion, like he couldn't understand why you'd want to know more. "How long have you been racing?" 

"Well, since I was a kid." He launches into some story about his childhood racing days, and something smooths out between the two of you. It's not longer chunky or strange, like forcing puzzle pieces where they don't belong. The table seems to relax, too, attention shifting from you to watching him ramble about go-karts and competitions. It's the real Lando, you think as you watch him ball up a napkin and throw it at the guy across from him, not whatever strange being he turns into when he tries to talk to you. 

You get lost in his words for awhile. You could sit here, like this, forever, just listening to him speak, and he seems to get lost in the conversation too, before catching you staring at him. He pauses, then, letting the table roar on with some old story that you don't get, and he smiles, something kind and soft and bright that makes you blush the moment you witness it. "I'm glad you joined us," He says quietly, ducking down to whisper in your ear. His face is tucked close to your neck to do so, like he was always meant to be this close to you. "And I apologize again for anything these idiots say."

"Well, thank you for having me." You whisper back, letting your head shift closer to his to say so. "I hope you know I'm going to use these stories as blackmail."

"Oh yeah?" He teases in response, letting his arms stretch above his head. Then, he lets one arm drop to rest on the booth above you, and you let yourself lean closer to his side, the move instinctual.

"For whenever I need a ride." His arm is warm pressed against your shoulders, and you remind yourself that you'd just met. You both might be interested in each other, considering the look he's giving you, but one dinner won't change anything.

"You don't need blackmail for that." He answers. "Just say the word and I'll be there."

The night passes in a blur like that, tucked close and just barely touching each other, enough distance that either of you could justify it was the drinks, or the cramped booth, nothing more. Still, it's nice to be by his side, and strangely, to not be the centre of attention. Though, every time you try to look at Lando, you find him looking at you.

-

On his final night there, Lando can't sleep. He's not sure if it's a mix of dread having to leave tomorrow, or the espresso martini he had that he didn't realize contained actual caffeine. Either way, it was about six in the morning, and he was wired. 

Careful not to wake those in the villa around him, he slipped onto the balcony as he rubbed at his face, trying to come to his senses. It had been a fantastic trip! He had seen you around a few times, talked a few times, but nothing like dinner, where you had looked like an angel sat next to him, radiating warmth as you listened to his stories and ignored his awkward start to rather embrace his slightly alcohol-fueled ranting.

You were just a stranger. You were just someone he could totally go up to and ask out, but you were this untouchable thing in his mind. He had spent so long copying you, he was struggling to think of other ways to approach you than to match what you did, which was so far kindness at a distance. 

Lando leaned against the balcony, taking in the barely rising sun on the horizon. It would be a beautiful sunrise, and as he turns to take in the rest of the villas, he finds you in the exact same position, staring out at the rising sun and wrapped in an oversized hoodie. He tries not to picture you in his merch, wrapped in the same orange of the sunrise, but it's hard not to. You'd look great in anything, he thinks, but you'd look better in his clothes. 

You turn and catch his stare, offering a smile despite the distance between you. Before he can stop himself, he gestures back toward the villa, hoping you understand the gesture of meeting on the boardwalk outside. You nod eagerly and disappear back into your villa, and Lando rushes back through his, slipping on someone's sandals before leaving. It's then, stepping out onto the wooden boardwalk and watching you walk towards him that he realizes he's still in the same clothes he tried to sleep in, which is just his swim shorts, and despite the fact you'd seen each other in bathing suits the entire week, he feels strangely exposed to the world. 

"Couldn't sleep?" You ask softly, and Lando nods with a yawn. 

"Got to be up early to fly out anyway." He swears your expression sours, maybe because you also are up early to catch a flight, but maybe, just maybe, because you don't want him to go. He should really stop these delusions, should've stopped trying to copy you, but he can't help it. "Want to make the most of one last morning?" 

"What do you have in mind?" You ask, and Lando has a good couple, but the one that would probably be the most appropriate would be to whisk you away to watch the sunrise and impress you with his boat, and the photos you could take of it. That, and he'd get some alone time, and his money worth out of the boat. 

He is well aware, however, that inviting a stranger, alone, out on a boat, isn't exactly at the top of everyone's list of things to do at 6 am. "We rented a boat for the week. Sunrise probably looks better out in the water than here, yeah?" 

"Yeah." He has to do a double take at your almost instant agreement, but then again, you were always up for an adventure. Plus, maybe he needs to give himself more credit as he leads you toward the dock: maybe he seems entirely trustworthy after only a few interactions. "You know how to drive this thing, right?" 

Well, so much for trustworthy. "I am a professional Formula One driver, I can drive a boat." He defends as he jogs up to give himself some more momentum before jumping aboard, more of a showcase of his athletic abilities than his need to mind the minuscule gap between the boat and the dock, and you laugh up at him as he extends a hand. Yours is soft in his, and he lets it linger for just a moment too long as you examine the boat. He'd lost his mind officially, he thinks as he forces space between you to unwrap the rope tethering the boat to the dock. He takes a bit too long to do it, staring back you, draped in the orange light of the sunrise. He might not have a boat in Monaco, but considering this view? 

He might just get a yacht because of you. So, yeah. Officially lost his mind. "When we crash and sink, I'm blaming you." 

"When? If we crash and sink. If." He finally gets the tether untied and settles himself behind the steering wheel, starting up the engine. It's different than a car, obviously, but that doesn't stop him from playing it up, using the palm of his hand to wind the steering wheel and navigate out, not too far from the coast. You scoff softly, jostling his shoulder as you move past to lean against the railing of the ship, and Lando doesn't waste much time driving before he cuts the engine. 

In the silence of the morning and the rising sun, he can't help but wonder if you can hear his heart pounding from here as he tries to think of something to say, something to do. If he was free too, he'd sneak up behind you and wrap his arms around you, hold you close, but that's a bit too delusional and his brain a bit too sleep-deprived to really think about it, so he decides instead to sit at your feet. "See? I'm perfectly capable." 

"I'd need to see your actual driving skills to believe that." Without much thought, he leans back to look up at you and his head knocks against your thigh, and your hand comes to play with his hair, and he thinks he might die, here and now. It's a view, he thinks, he'd be more than happy to die seeing.

"You should come to a race." He breaths out, almost desperate, trying to ignore the warmth of your thigh against his cheek. "There's plenty of fun travel destinations." 

"I'd have to find something red, then." It goes over his head for a moment as he blinks up at you, and with a sigh, you step away, leaving Lando desperate to trail after you. Instead, however, you sit down cross-legged next to him, and before he can think to do anything, you rest your head on his shoulder with a yawn. If he thought his head on you was incredible, this? This is a fantasy that forces Lando to consider if this is all a dream. "You know, for Ferrari."

"Ferrari!" He gasps as he looks down at you, and you offer a shit-eating grin up at him. "I will toss you out of this boat. We wear Papaya, and papaya only." 

"Papaya!" You echo incredulously with a laugh. "That's what you call yourself?" 

"That's what we call the colour. Not orange, papaya." You'd look good in any colour, Lando fathoms, but papaya? He'd pay good money to have you in his colour and with his number, and considering how to remain on his shoulder, he might not even have to pay for it.

"Okay, papaya." You tease before slipping out your phone, pushing back to get a picture of the sunrise, and then you turn the camera toward him. Without much thought, he stares out into the water in the hopes of you getting a more candid shot, and he's not sure what he'll do if he ends up on your Instagram. Probably rub it in everyone's faces, actually. "If I say something," You begin gently, and Lando turns to look back at you. "Will you promise not to get offended?" 

Not the kind of conversation he was anticipating, but he tries to play it off. "Not more than I already am. Ferrari, as if." 

"I like you more when you're not trying to be someone else." 

His brain short-circuits at the sentence, the words clunky in his mind as they register. You like him, first of all, but you like him more...when he's not trying to be someone else? "What?" 

"I see the posts, and the comments. You don't have to try and be like me to get me to like you." Well, shit. 

He tries to come up with some excuse, with some explanation, but all he can do is stare at you in the morning sun and think about how hard he'd tried to copy you, to do everything right, to get you here, and how miserably it's gone. You didn't interact with his posts, despite the fact you'd seen them. Dinner had been nothing if not fatal before you'd let him rant about racing, and now, he's out on a boat, and all this time, he didn't need any of it for you to like him.

"I wasn't..." He rubs a hand over his face before pushing back to sit next to you. "Listen, I just...you're cool." 

"You're cool too." Well, yeah, but his brain didn't always let him believe that. Confidence should come easy to a man in his position, but it doesn't always. The races, the fans, the eyes, it all bottles up in a way that Lando was petrified to message you, lest his mess up, lest you post it somewhere, lest it doesn't work out. 

He'd rather watch from afar and regret it than have to exist in a world where he fumbled, and everyone else saw. "But you're like, the unattainable kind of cool, so I thought if I should we had similar interests, made my posts like yours, then maybe you'd message me." 

"Wait, really?" There's a small, infectious smile curling on your lips, and Lando tries to hide his own as he looks at you.

"Tell me, honestly, if I had messaged you first, would it have worked?" You don't immediately answer, offering a little shrug, and he reaches over to pull your hood up and over your eyes. You swat away his hands as you pull the hood back, but it doesn't distract from the fact that it wouldn't have worked. The only way Lando was able to be sat here beside you was, of all reasons, Hilton's sponsorship. "Exactly." 

"It's sweet, in a weird way." You try and soothe, hand gently resting on his knee and offering a squeeze. "But I like you like this more." 

Flushing, he knows, from ear to ear, he slips his hand into yours and lets it rest in his lap. Finally, when he can't seem to handle the intimacy, he finds a joke to crack. "What, shirtless on a boat in Bora Bora?" 

"Yourself, you idiot." Your head leans back against his shoulder, talking in the sunrise, but Lando can't bring himself to look out at the view, not when the only thing worth watching is right beside him. "Don't let that go to your head." 

"I won't, promise." A soft silence settles between the two of you, and Lando knows he doesn't have a lot of time. Someone is going to wake up and realize he and the boat are gone, or someone's going to be missing their sandals, or something will go wrong with the flight, but he can't really bring himself to think of anything besides seeing you again. "So, about coming to a race? Wearing papaya, specifically?" 

"Fine, but only if I get a paddock pass." 

"Paddock-" Lando's quick to straighten up as he turns to look at you. You weren't one for Formula One, you didn't know any of that before you'd met. Unless, of course, he wasn't the only one snooping around on Instagram. "How do you know what a paddock pass is?" 

You shrug, offering a grin that Lando would have no problem kissing away, if it weren't for the fact that you'd just met. "Well, I needed to know some things about my copycat." 

"Oh, shut up!" He's never going to live that down. His friends already mocked him mercilessly for it, but now you too? "Our next race is Belgium. I'll get the paddock pass and Hilton can put you up." Then,  because he can't help himself, "Of course, if you come to dinner with me to celebrate." 

"Confident, are we?" You shoot back, and Lando mimics your shrug from earlier.

"Well, even if I lose, I've still got dinner with you, so I'd consider that a win." You groan, smacking your forehead into his shoulder, and Lando toussles your hair. "Well?" 

"Sounds like a deal." 

_

Liked by yourusername, yourbestfriend, and others

lando Bora Bora with the boys, thanks to @/hilton

↳ yourusername no photo credit?

        ↳ lando take a couple more with me and maybe

        ↳ 4_the_win WHAT

↳ ln444 😳 😳 😳 

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yourusername Thank you @/hilton for checking off my bucket list trip!!

↳ hilton come back anytime!

↳ lando who's the copycat now?

          ↳ yourusername still you

          ↳ oscarpiastri still you

          ↳ lando :(

↳ mclar_win the last slide being Lando!!!

          ↳ user510 we called this

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yourusername swipe to see my copycat in the act

↳ landonorris this is slander

        ↳ yourusername slander is when something is a lie, lan

        ↳ ln444 !!! 

↳  4_the_win you're welcome for setting you up

        ↳ user510 do we get paddock passes for it??

↳ yourbestfriend already being left out of the photo dump

        ↳ yourusername you know you're my number one

        ↳   landonorris hey!

        ↳   yourusername you're obviously my number four

a/n: my first f1 fic/smau!! let me know your thoughts :)

[telamonisms]

✦PEBBLING✦

You had no idea on how or why it had started, one day you're working your 9 to 5 job as a cashier at quite possibly the most normal store there is, the next the God of War and Wrath himself walks in like it's just another Tuesday and makes his way to the frozen chicken nuggets, you staring in shock and confusion the whole time, only being snapped out of it by the sound of several bags dropping in front of you, ready to be scanned as Telamon simply stared with his everpresent unnerving smile.

You, determined to follow good customer service practice, scan every bag before giving him the total with a smile of your own and spewing out the automated corporate line about thanking the customer and telling them to come back as the Deity made his way out.

You expected not to see him again, thinking that the literal descent of a God to your humble work place just to grab some chicken nuggies was a one time only thing. On your part, you were content that you probably had an entirely original experience, which made his visit next day all the more puzzling.

He did just the same as the day before, though this time as you scanned the nuggets, he kept his head curiously tilted to the side.

The day after he came back, it was all the same except with the added of little chirps and general bird noises that you thought sounded like he was curious.

Later that day, after your shift was over and you left, ready to walk your way home, Telamon drops down from a tree and begins to make casual conversation with you.

You were surprised and confused but ended up going along with him, unsure of what else to do.

Over the next few weeks you'd somehow managed to become friends with Telamon and a little bit longer after that he'd started bringing you things.

A fruit, a "cool" stick, some pleasantly smooth pebbles, someone's stolen sandwich, one time he brought you someone's pet dog, you then had to explain to him that you couldn't accept someone's pet and eventually he begrudgingly returned it.

A coulple of months into this new oh so confusing behavour, just before he had to leave to HQ for work, he pulled you asides and under the shade of a flowering tree, Telamon plucked a singular feather of one of his wings and, with a smile far too gentle to belong to the very God of War and Wrath, he placed the feather behind your ear, making sure it sat nicely and visible before resting his taloned hand on your cheek, softly cupping your face as he looked you in the eyes.

"He gifts you one of his feathers, isn't Telamon's kindness ever so boundless?"

You were rendered speechless by the softness of the moment and just as you managed to recover, he spread his wings and took to the skies, making his way to the very top floor of the Roblox HQ.

You think you now know what all of thouse random gifts were.

Maybe you should get a book on bird courting...

✦Short and sweet. Nobody asked for this one, but I do love to indulge myself. Hopefully you all find this read enjoyable as well.

[ilostdoor-itgone-ohno]

ranking hermits and friends based on how scary they are (to me)

explanations under the cut :)

Okay starting off: Not all hermits are here, not all friends are here. these are only my opinions, you may think otherwise and that's fine. Also Cleo is scarier than JoeHills but they still belong in the same category.

ZombieCleo: terrifying. Absolutely terrifying. I feel like if I even accidently upset them I would be punched with NO hesitation. It may not be Cleo that punches me but I will get punched regardless. But also total badass and I think they would be huggable if you hang out enough.

JoeHills: petrifying. From what I've seen (and I haven't seen much) this guy is certainly smart enough to raise an army of followers then find out all my information (he wouldn't send them anywhere but he'd let me know he's got 'em (please don't take my social security number)). Also really cool glasses :)

LDShadowLady: Scary but it's mostly Joel being scary around her lol but also she and Stampy got me into watching Minecraft youtubers <3

SMajor: I've watched enough life series and Minecraft escape rooms to know this dude is unhinged. He wouldn't even think about hurting me but he's so chill and friendly and I think he may be huggable

Grian: Behind those soulless eyes is deranged dude, behind the deranged dude is a softie that just wants his mending book.

GeminiTay: So scary, so huggable, cool af, amazing taste in games and fashion. GeminiSlay, total savage, determined to win in any game.

PearlescentMoon: Both scary and huggable, 5am Pearl could kill me straight off but normal Pearl? Absolute sweetheart, just a lil' silly goose, wouldn't even hurt a fly.

SmallishBeans: So British, his accent cracks me up every time. His reactions are so explosive and that's the part that scares me but very entertaining.

InTheLittleWood: This guy over here is so freaking funny, still scary but I'd die of laughter before he even got the door ajahar

Docm77: I'm going to be honest here, I haven't watched much Doc content but from Grian's perspective he's scary.

Mumbo Jumbo: The guy is a big softie, let's be real. Also his hermitcraft stuff that I've seen is so adorable.

GoodTimesWithScar: he's just so cute <3 definitely huggable but not a dad, he's just so silly <3

SolidarityGaming: he'll never be scary after watching that one stream after he goes skiing and its essentially just him falling down constantly in the background of Kristy looking amazing.

RenDog: he's just cool, not scary at all.

ImpulseSV: Dad #1

Skizzelman: Dad #2

Tango Tek: Dad #3

BDoubleO100: Dad #4

The Dads: 100% huggable. They could even be classed as a safe space. We love the dads <3

Ethoslab: Not a dad but still huggable.

[bloodykora]

Scrapped Knees

Hehe I just started writing and this came out. Hope yall enjoy, more stalker mc content.

MDNI this game is 18+ therefore so is my writing. TW: mentions of blood, and the normal yandere tropes TKATB List

'Hey so uh I may be a smidge late. I totally did not fall and scrape the fuck outta my knees. :)'

You hit send and wait, looking down to your legs that are now dripping with blood. The concrete making a perfect target. You glance back to the phone, those three familiar dots appearing as Sol quickly typed back.

'Oh wow, where? I'll just meet you there with some bandages. Don't hurt yourself further.' Your face pops into a huge grin while reading his text, you look around for a place to sit. Finding a curb where you could plant while you waited.

'I'm like.. a block and half down from the cafe. But I can meet you!' You text back, taking your bag off and setting your phone down. You pull your legs near your face, observing at the carnage when you hear your phone buzz again.

'No, stay. I'm coming.' You smile and shake your head a bit, giggling at how easy it was. Bait set and trap. Not very easy to fall just enough to only damage your knees, speaking of. Your gaze falls to them again, using your fingers to pry out the few rocks that had settled into the wound.

It wasn't long until the sound of steps echoed closer to you, relaxing your legs out instead of being scrunched up. You turn to look down the road, Sol speed walking with a plastic bag in one of his hands and his backpack slung over the other shoulder.

"Hehe hi, sorry about this." You sheepishly spoke as he approaches you, setting both of the bags he had down along with yours. He immediately kneels down to look at your legs, gently taking them into his hands. Heat of embarrassment building in your body as you watch his eyes.

"You need to be more careful." His tone darker then normal, flutters of butterflies in your chest as you hear his words. Need to be more careful, careful for him because he cares. He practically rips open the bag. Gauze and bandaids, cotton balls along with two bottles of water. Even some pain meds.

"Where did you get all that?" Turning your head to the side a bit in confusion as you eye all the supplies. He cracks a top of one of the bottles off, taking out a few cotton balls before pouring some water on them. Dabbing it to the scrapes.

"I ran to the little store down the road. They luckily had this stuff." Your smile grows wider at his words. "Sol thats so nice!" The words spill out before you can even think about them. A small blush now filling his cheeks as you reach out to hold his arm. Rubbing along his long sleeved shirt.

The stinging of the cuts barely being noticeable as he touches your skin. Sticking dried blood now being wiped up, the sound of the plastic bag crinkling when he throws a cotton ball out. It goes quiet as the sun begins to set, orange skies casting over the pair of you.

He begins to open the band aids, choosing which size would fit over your knees best. You admire him, taking in his hair, his face, his piercings, his black painted nails, the way his eyes fix into a stare as he begins to concentrate on something. He places two band aids on one knee, covering the now beginning to scab parts. He then begins to repeat with the other.

"When you're all done, are you gonna kiss my boo boos better?" You ask earnestly, his stare blanks for a second before a small smile appears on his face. "If you really want me to." His smile turns into a smirk at your face blanking, your ears burning. It quiets down again as he finishes patching you up, gentle with his touch.

"Do you want any pain killers?" He asks, finally looking back up to your face as you shyly shake your head no. He then keeps eye contact with you as he lofts your knee to his face, closing his eyes softly. Then pressing his lips to the bandage. Your hands fly up to your face, covering your face. Too embarrassed to even look at his face afterwards. A low chuckle hits your ears causing you to shake your head in reply.

"Uhh anyways!" You shout behind your hands, trying to change the topic. Peaking out as he tucks the extras into his bag. "Its gonna be dark soon now, how about I walk you home?" You remove your hands and agree, smiling as he puts his hand out for you to take to get up.

"Yeah! And we can finish up the assignment there too." He nods as you two start walking as the street lights begin to turn on around you.

[mywitchyblog]

The Coolest Thing About Reality Shifting: DR Memories

What Are DR Memories ? :

One of the coolest things about reality shifting is that you can get DR memories—these are memories from your desired reality (DR). What’s really cool about these memories is that they fill in the blanks, like adding extra content to the story. But what makes it even better is that these memories often answer questions that the original show or movie never explained. It’s almost like having secret insider knowledge that makes the story and characters make more sense and feel more real. These memories can add extra background information, character motivations, or small details that clear up plot holes. It makes the universe of that show or movie feel more complete and satisfying. That’s why I think DR memories are one of the most interesting parts of reality shifting—they add a lot of depth and detail that you wouldn't get otherwise.

Claircognizance and DR Memories :

In case you didn't know, a DR memory is a type of claircognizance. Claircognizance is a psychic ability where you get knowledge or insights without any logical explanation—it's like the information just pops into your head. It’s not like remembering something you already know or imagining something new; instead, it feels like this information just appears in your mind without any effort.

I can tell the difference between a DR memory and a daydream because with daydreams, I actually create them myself, almost like I’m walking through the daydream and deciding what happens next. Daydreams are like a creative process, where I have control over what happens. With DR memories, it's the opposite—the memory just comes to me, almost like downloading information from somewhere unknown. It’s passive, and I feel like I’m just receiving it instead of making it happen. DR memories usually come with a strong sense of certainty that they’re real, which is very different from daydreams, which feel more like imagination.

How I Recognize DR Memories :

That's how I can tell the difference between the two. I'm currently working on developing my psychic abilities, and from what I've learned, claircognizance is the best way to describe what happens when shifters get DR memories. Claircognizance is like getting information from a place you can't see, almost like an invisible source of knowledge.

One reason I value these memories so much is that they make things suddenly make sense, like putting together puzzle pieces that finally fit. They don’t feel random—they come with a clarity and sense of completeness that I can't ignore. I knew it was a DR memory because it came with a strong sense of certainty, a conviction that I wouldn't normally have if I was just imagining things. It’s that feeling of knowing that tells me it’s not something I made up, but something real and meaningful, which makes the experience even more special.

Example: Teen Wolf Filming Locations :

Here's an example that really stood out to me. It's related to Teen Wolf, specifically where they filmed the show. In the first two seasons, they filmed in Atlanta, Georgia, which gave it that small-town vibe and charm. The setting made it feel like a real close-knit community, with overcast skies, thick woods, and an older, worn-out small-town look. But from season three onward, they moved filming to California, which totally changed things.

The new location made the show look different since the Californian landscapes had more sun, wider streets, new architecture, and brighter natural scenery. This change impacted the show's overall tone and feel. The new brightness made everything look cleaner and less gritty, which affected the mood and atmosphere. What always bugged me was that the show never explained in the story why the high school changed so much between seasons two and three. It felt like a sudden, unexplained shift, and it always stood out to me as something inconsistent when I watched the series again.

The DR Memory That Explained It All :

Then I had this DR memory, and it all made sense. Basically, in my DR memory, there was a big renovation. The old high school from seasons one and two was in an older, run-down part of town with outdated facilities and a dull look. The town council realized that the school was no longer meeting the needs of the community, and it couldn't keep up with modern education standards. So, they decided to build a brand new high school—one that was bigger, more modern, and way more functional, with updated technology and better facilities, like advanced science labs, new computer rooms, and bigger athletic fields.

The construction project took about two to three years, and it involved a lot of community effort, planning, and even some fundraising by the local residents. The town was really proud to build something that would be a central part of the community and give students a much better learning environment. By the time summer break was over (like the one at the very beginning of season 3A), the new high school was ready, with modern classrooms, great sports facilities, an upgraded library with digital resources, and a cool, sleek design. It was a huge improvement compared to the old school. So, by the time season three starts, the high school is completely new and very different from the old one.

Better Than Devenford Prep :

What I found pretty funny in the DR memory was that some of the new facilities at our high school ended up being even better than the ones at Devenford Prep, which is supposed to be this elite school with the best resources. The upgrades were so impressive that even some of the prep school students came over to use our facilities, especially things like the athletic spaces and the new multimedia studio (which is, in a way, canon since I think there are scenes of Brett Talbot training at the BHHS lacrosse field). The swimming pool and gym were way nicer than anything Devenford had, which was surprising because private schools are usually thought to have better stuff than public ones.

Finally, I had an explanation for why the high school changed so much between seasons two and three, which the show never actually explained. It was really satisfying to fill in that missing piece because it made the story feel more realistic, like everything fit together and made sense, almost as if it had always been part of the original story.

@shiftingwithmars i think you have a teen wolf DR ? So maybe this lil storty time of mine will make some sense to you.

[jayschaconne]

LOVESICK | Kim Sunoo

summary: While on summer vacation you find yourself falling for Sunoo in just a matter of seconds.

warnings: (minors dni), heavy smut, unprotected sex, size kink (?) (idk about y’all but I LOVE Sunoo’s shoulders), swearing (excessive use of the word ‘cunt’), both reader and Sunoo are down bad (ALSO VERY FREAKY) (not proofread)

genre: fluff, smut, angst

a/n: I’ve finally written about all of enha on here omg. also this isn’t what I wanted it to be so try and enjoy it ig. sorry for making it long.

…

There were green leaves scattered across the street. The sun hitting your eyes, blocking your vision.

You carried a tote bag with books you’d just checked out from the library nearby. Coming to visit your parents’ home country wasn’t your most favourite thing to do, but getting to take in the fresh summer breeze and stroll across streets you’d grown accustomed to had soothed you in its own ways.

It was pretty out. You loved the fresh green grass and the trees that sheltered you from the harsh sunlight. The serene, ocean-blue skies that were peppered with clouds shaped like hearts and different animals, making you laugh to yourself.

All the while you’d been preoccupied, you’d forgot to take notice of things around you. This caused you to so suddenly bump into someone and land flat on the ground. You were sure you’d hurt your elbow.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” a soft, calming voice had called from above you. “Here, let me help you.”

The man crouched down to pick up the fallen contents out of your bag. You had no time to tend to the wound that formed on your skin. Because in a split second, all your attention was on the boy in front of you.

He seemed to be out of this world.

Your eyes locked on his, staring deeply. You couldn’t seem to look anywhere other than his face. His plump lips, the curve of his brows. His adorable nose. The way his bangs were reaching his eyes. The plain beige shirt he was adorned in paired with blue denim that sat proudly on his shoulders.

He seemed to be at a loss of words for the first few seconds. You both took each other in, a sigh coming from him, your eyes refusing to even blink, fearing he’d disappear if you had.

A smile had reached his lips and his honey-brown eyes. A shy chuckle escaped. “Forgive me for being this direct but,” he sighed, “you’re incredibly stunning.”

Sunoo was in total awe at how you were speechless when face-to-face with him. Your lips slightly parted, almost as if you hadn’t expected to see him, though it was normal given that he was a stranger.

What could it have been that made those beautiful eyes seem to have a million questions behind them at the sight of him?

And how on earth could someone be this gorgeous? He felt his heart smile when he first saw you; it started beating at a much slower, more steady pace. Making him feel like he’d been enveloped into a world where only the pretty girl carrying books, who he just bumped into existed. Your curls that flailed with the wind, the coconut scent in your hair, those long lashes that fluttered as you lifted your eyes to peer up at him. Doll-like, they gleamed in the sunlight.

You finally broke away from your train of thought.

“I’m..sorry.” You said, unsure of what to feel towards this man or how he’d just called you beautiful.

“I mean thank you.” You added while a nervous laugh had escaped your lips. You could feel the heat rising up to your cheeks. “You’re gorgeous,” you said before being able to stop yourself.

Just then, you heard him laugh. It was the most beautiful sound of laughter you’d ever gotten to hear.

“Let me help you,” he said again, this time helping you back up on your feet. Your hands were in his, feeling the soft skin of his palms and the warmth radiating from them.

“Thank you.” You let out almost in a huff. You couldn’t understand this feeling. It was in the pit of your stomach, but also latched onto your heart. The sight of this strange, beautiful boy you’d just met made it slightly harder to breathe. It made your knees weak.

You both were very, very still for a moment. His hands had kept their hold on you, eyes locking deeper into yours. A sigh left him, and he let both your arms fall.

“Is it wrong to want to know your name?”

“Please tell me your name.”

You both had spoken at the same time. This caused you two to share a moment together, laughing at the coincidence.

“You first,” he softly said. His gaze on you was so warm and welcoming. It made you melt.

“Y/n,” you said, not being able to help how you brushed your hair behind your ear at how shy he made you feel.

“That’s pretty. But it doesn’t surprise me. Pretty things have pretty names.” Sunoo confessed.

He felt like an idiot that was just going and on and on about your looks. He so badly wanted to spend the rest of his day with you.

“You are?”

“Sunoo,” his eye smile was back.

Sunoo. You felt your heart flutter at his name being just as gorgeous.

The evening had rolled around quick, but ironically slow at the same time.

You two walked into the park nearby, feeling time slowly slip away, but still being enough to let you bask in each other’s presence.

You couldn’t believe how radiant a human being could be, to not have one flaw in them. Sunoo was absolutely perfect. He was the real definition of ‘too good to be true’.

He was open, easily understood. It made you wonder if it was just how direct he was that made him want to compliment you.

But his eyes spoke for themselves. You’d stop walking at certain points, which gave him more of a reason to keep his eyes on you.

His gaze was still, subtle, but there was so much more behind those eyes than even he could comprehend.

At a certain point, Sunoo had started to carry himself in a way where he wasn’t hiding his affection for you. Stories he heard, he wanted to hear more of. “Tell me more,” he’d nod. That smile tugging at the corner of his lips made your attachment grow.

Sunoo couldn’t grasp at where it rooted from, but there was this feeling of familiarity that was slowly growing between you two. Just within a few glances and words exchanged, Sunoo felt like he’d known you a lifetime.

“I’m staying here with my aunt for the time-being. I’ll be going back in a couple months,” he explained while you two sat on a bench far near the trees in the park.

And if it weren’t for the bitter taste forming in your mouth at the thought of keeping something from him, you wouldn’t have said it.

“I’ll be leaving in two weeks.”

A gap had suddenly opened up in that one corner of his heart that felt like it had been reserved just for you. It had to have been you it belonged to, he was certain. But it was slowly emptying itself now. Your words left a scar that he wasn’t sure could now be ceased.

At his silence, you grew nervous. “Sun-

Loose strands of hair had been in your eyes then, which he brushed away with a light touch of his fingers. “Let me get those for you,” he hushed in a whisper. You felt your eyes shut momentarily, your heart racing.

He didn’t acknowledge what you’d just told him.

He retracted his hand, looking at you with such tenderness. Such adoration.

“Sunoo.”

“Yes.”

There was so much you wanted to say but the words wouldn’t leave your mouth.

“Nothing.”

And there it was. He laughed again.

“Is it okay if I…” you spoke, unsure.

“Hm,” he patiently waited for you to say whatever it was you wanted to.

Your lips were parted, but again, no words came out. You could explain it so much better if you just touched him.

Your hands reached up to his hair, picking at the loose ends. You needed to feel him. Touch him. It was the only thing you knew with him.

You weren’t big on communicating your feelings. It wasn’t anything you were used to. And while Sunoo had given you more than reason to be open with him, he was so overwhelming. Speaking was the last thing your feelings would allow you to do.

Touching him felt much more familiar. His skin underneath your palms allowed you to say things your lips couldn’t.

He watched, following only your eyes as you placed your hand around his neck, leaving traces of fingertips he saw as you engraving your mark on him.

He sat incredibly still, but relaxed underneath you. Your hand was now cupping his face. He moved suddenly, lips brushing your fingers.

“Sunoo…”

“Don’t drive me crazy like that,” he whispered, almost pleading.

The sleeve of your cardigan had rolled up, and Sunoo noticed the scrape on your elbow, brows immediately knitting together in worry. He saw how the open wound started to bleed.

“Oh no,” he wept. “That must hurt.” He took your arm into his hands, eyes searching yours to ask permission if this was okay.

You didn’t say anything. Didn’t speak or budge. You just let him touch you, so used to it already. His fingertips grazed your skin, making the cut sting.

You hissed, causing him to retract his hand instantly.

“I’m so sorry,” he said worriedly.

“No, it’s not you. It just stings a little that’s all.”

“My aunt’s house is just a few blocks down. We should get you there quick before you lose too much blood.”

“I wouldn’t wanna cause any trouble, Sunoo.” You said, incapable of keeping his name out your mouth. Sunoo. It reminded you of sunshine. The way he’d suddenly walked into your life, raining his sun showers upon you with his bright and bubbly self. His name suit him perfectly.

“You expect me to listen after you say my name like that?” He was getting shy, but also very much see through in such little time. It was because you said it. You’d looked at him, and said his name in a way where it sounded like you’d said it a million times before.

“It’s just a small cut.”

It isn’t to me, he wanted to say.

“Do you have to go home right away?” He asked.

“No,” you lied.

“Then you’re coming with me.”

Sunoo managed to rummage through his pockets, finding a handkerchief. He tried his best to wrap it around somehow. But you ended up having to put pressure on it.

Despite all your protests against going to his aunt’s, deep down you were aching to be alone with him. It felt as if any moment you looked elsewhere, he’d slip away. And while your mind was boggled at the thought of that, your heart had understood. Without a second thought, you went with him. Not caring where he’d take you as long as he was still there.

The small blood stain on your cardigan made him take it from you, offering his own jacket. He carried your bag as well, looking over every two seconds to make sure you weren’t in too much pain.

Once you’d reached there, he paced around anxiously, looking through the drawers to try to find a first-aid kit.

You sat in his room, taking in the atmosphere of it. It was peaceful, clean, just the way you’d expected it to be.

He was so stressed over this stupid wound. It felt weird seeing this boy who had been a stranger just a few hours ago, rummaging through his drawers to find a bandaid for you.

You felt yourself unable to keep still anymore. You walked over to him, taking ahold of his arms.

Sunoo’s movements came to a halt, and he seemed more at ease.

“Why does this matter to you so much?”

He stood there, unable to speak. He blinked at you a few times, looking like he had an answer that just wasn’t reaching his lips.

“I…don’t know how to say it.”

“What could you possibly want to hide from me? You’re so obvious, Sunoo.”

His eyes had widened slightly, and he avoided looking at you in the face. “I’m not the only obvious one.”

“Sunoo, the bleeding has stopped.” You held up the handkerchief, revealing the dried stains of blood.

He looked down at your arm, examining it.

“Let me at least put a smaller bandaid on it.”

“Sunoo.” You started.

“Don’t keep saying my name like that.”

“Why?”

He pondered for a moment, wondering if it was the right thing to say.

“It makes me wanna kiss you.” He blurted out. There was defeat in his voice, like he’d admitted something he hadn’t meant to.

You felt relieved at that, feeling a little less crazy for how you were so deeply attracted to him already. “At least you admitted it.”

“You’d let me kiss you?”

“You’re too oblivious for your own good. I wouldn’t have come here if I didn’t want to spend every remaining second of my day with you.”

Sunoo let you go on, feeling slightly a bit more relaxed that he wasn’t crazy for having these feelings. That you were possibly implying that you liked him too.

“Would you let me kiss you?” He repeated his question.

“Yes,” you breathed out. “I’d want you to.”

He was silent. His gaze remained intact. He so badly wanted to kiss you. Brush your hair away from your eyes again.

“I’ve known how you made me feel from the moment you first spoke to me. And just over a small wound you’ve been so worked up. But I get it. If I’d seen you hurt I’d go just as crazy.”

You moved closer to him, hands reaching up to touch the face you’d touched several minutes before.

Sunoo’s eyes closed shut, and he eased into the way your fingers grazed his skin. The warmth of your fingertips had kissed his skin so gently, he felt like his knees might’ve given up.

He opened his eyes to look over at you again, this time his eyes burned, speaking words you hadn’t seen in them before.

“Are you in love?” He sounded uncertain. There was something so strong that was inviting him to you, like some magnetic pull. He wasn’t sure what was next.

“That’s such a stupid question. Of course, I’m in love. It’s you, Sunoo.”

Sunoo had without blinking, pulled you closer, a delicate hand on your jaw, his lips slowly closing the gap between you two.

He’d been chasing this relief from the very first moment his eyes fell upon you. Your curls, your lips, those eyes, all crossing his mind as his lips engulfed yours in a deep, slow kiss.

You felt him guide you so your back hit his bed, feeling his smile grow against your lips, both your teeth almost clashing. “I’m so in love with you,” he whispered, causing butterflies to erupt in your stomach.

This felt amazing. The way you’d felt so close to him, your heart having been so at home with his touch gliding over your skin, his kisses so impatient.

You felt unable to keep your hands off him. They traced up his arms, reaching his shoulders, making you almost gasp at how big they felt. You couldn’t help but drool at the sight.

“You like my shoulders baby?” He laughed, eyes sparkling as he towered over you.

Baby, the word rolled off his tongue like it was so used to being said to you.

You felt yourself shudder beneath him, hands remaining still, feeling him. “They’re just so…big.”

You loved the feeling of being so small compared to him. The need to feel him touch you grew more intense.

Sunoo smirked down at you. “You like touching them?”

You nodded, pulling him closer. He hovered above you, just inches away.

“Tell me how much.”

“I wanna sit…on them” you said shyly looking away, embarrassed to have admitted such a thing.

“Don’t be shy,” he laughed, taking your face into his hands. “I want you to,” he reassured you.

“Please, I need you.”

Sunoo reacted by pulling his shirt over his head, revealing his cream-coloured skin. He pulled you into his lap, kissing you again.

But this time, he nipped at your bottom lip, causing you to gasp in his mouth. His tongue collided with yours, slurping and sucking, savouring as much as he could of you.

You were incredibly intolerant of how slow this was going. You managed to slide off your tank top by its straps, all the while making out, letting Sunoo get a good look at your bare chest.

He whimpered at the sight. “Can I suck?” He whispered, so unsure of what he’d do wrong.

You nodded eagerly, feeling the warmth of his mouth around your sensitive nub in seconds.

Sunoo sucked on your tits like he’d been hungry for your skin, yearning to get a taste of it for a long while.

Both your heads had turned at the sound of the front door closing. You almost panicked until Sunoo grabbed his duvet cover and wrapped it around you.

He got up to lock his door.

“Sunoo, dear? Are you home?” A voice called from outside.

He looked back at you, seeing how you’d shrank inside the duvet cover, looking as beautiful as ever. He was still processing how you ended up sprawled out on his bed, waiting to get fucked by him.

He walked back to you, crawling over and placing his index finger on your lips. “Shh,” he hushed with a smile playing on his lips.

“Open for me,” he whispered as his fingers parted your lips. You obliged and felt two fingers slide inside your mouth.

“To keep you from being too loud,” he cooed at you.

He put his face in between your breasts, you taking ahold of his head, letting him lick up invisible patterns with his tongue.

“Sunoo,” you moaned around his fingers. “Please.”

“Please what, baby?”

“Let me ride you.”

He grasped at the long skirt you wore, watching it slide off your legs smoothly.

You tugged at Sunoo’s pants, unbuckling his belt yourself and sliding them down to his knees.

You pushed him flat on the bed, and crawled on top, letting his boner free from his briefs.

Sunoo grabbed a pillow to stifle the loud, deep moan that escaped his lips, causing you to get even more wet at the thought of getting to fuck him.

Your mouth watered at the sight of his precum gathering at the tip.

You straddled him, watching his eyes burn into you, his mouth hung agape. Your eyes stayed on his as you made slow, teasing strokes on him.

“Ahh, fuck,” a groan came from deep within his throat, loving the feeling of your hands on his dick.

His head rolled back into the sheets, eyes shut tight, such sweet moans being released from him.

His hands came in contact with your ass, squeezing and pulling on the soft skin; they felt huge as they worked on you. You were in love with how large every part of him was.

His dick was too tempting, too perfectly girthy for you to not put your mouth on it.

You lowered yourself down, spitting on his tip and stroking him again. You watched as Sunoo’s hand clasped on his mouth, with his back arching, stifling his moans that were getting too loud for you two not to get caught.

“Stop,” he breathed out. “Just fuck me already.”

You didn’t waste any more time, sitting on him and feeling him stretch you out in the most toe-curling ways.

He now rested on his elbows, lips connecting in a steamy kiss as your moans released into each other’s mouths at the contact.

You couldn’t help the way you impatiently bucked your hips on him, feeling him writhe underneath you.

“Fuck, baby. I could never imagine you feeling this good,” he exclaimed against your mouth. His hands kept your waist in place, guiding you through the rhythm he created.

Your skin stung with the way he smacked your ass with each thrust into your cunt. Sunoo felt heavenly buried deep inside you.

You motioned for him to lie down again, this time your heat way closer to his mouth, as you eased yourself onto his shoulder. You held the headboard for support, grinding on him gently.

You could feel how toned-up he was. Those hard muscles that you felt against your clit just making your cunt even more needy for him.

Sunoo’s lips attached to the skin of your thighs, one of his hands reaching up to your tits, wanting to feel whatever he could of you.

He loved the way you felt on him. The wet, squelching sounds your cunt made as you rode his shoulder made him want to taste you on his tongue.

Sunoo got ahold of your thighs, lifting up one of your legs to the side of his face, which gave him more access. He turned his head and lapped his tongue furiously against your clit.

You felt yourself start to lose balance as you shook with overstimulation.

“Sun,” you moaned into the back of your own hand. “I’m gonna cum.”

“Not yet,” he said. But it was more of a plead than a demand.

He flipped you over, burying your face in his pillows. Your ass was facing him, and you felt him enter your needy, dripping walls.

You practically screamed into the pillows at the feeling. Sunoo started to wildly buck his hips into you, loving the way you felt wrapped around him.

“Sunoo, please,” you couldn’t contain yourself anymore. You needed him to hear you scream for him.

“That’s right, love. You take me so well,” he panted with each hard thrust.

You felt the bed shake from its place as Sunoo fucked you senseless into the mattress.

You were sweaty, screaming until your lungs felt like giving up. You were filled to the brim with his dick, not being able to contain your high any longer.

“Sun-sunoo,” you croaked, only being able to focus on the way he sounded, every noise that filled the room as he was fucking you.

You were flipped over, facing him now. Sunoo was quick to enter you again, chasing this exhilarating feeling that you both were so close to experiencing together.

Your legs instinctively wrapped themselves around his torso. Tears escaped your eyes at how overwhelming experiencing this was with him. He knew exactly how to fuck you until you couldn’t form a coherent thought.

Sunoo’s lips had found yours, groans being released into your mouth again, as you still marvelled at how he was real.

You dug your nails into his back, not knowing anything but how you were so close to coming undone.

“Oh baby, I’m gonna cum,” he bit down on his hand, feeling his body go limp as both of you climaxed.

Sunoo’s lips had locked with yours in a deep kiss.

“Shit, fuck,” you cried out. “I love you,”

“I love you,” Sunoo wept as he rode out your high, nuzzling his face in your neck.

He released his load onto your stomach. He tried catching his breath, lying his head down on your chest.

Your hands came up to touch the back of his neck, his hair that was drenched in sweat. You played with his blond locks.

“Sunoo?”

“Yes, love,” he spoke tiredly.

“Nothing,” you said, laughing.

This made him laugh again. “I love you,” he whispered to you, curling further into your embrace.

…

The next few days went by fast. Sunoo had introduced you to his aunt, you’d introduced him to your parents, but that was mainly because you two had very loud, frequent sex.

It was his aunt who’d been the unfortunate one to have come home one night to the sound of bed creaking and moans and screams coming from Sunoo’s room.

You both didn’t care about including outsiders in your relationship. You had your own place, which was a 30-minute drive away, but some nights Sunoo was reluctant to leave his aunt since he was helping her run her business.

Even the customers were alarmed at a certain point when Sunoo had attended the door with a button down only thrown around his shoulders, post-make out hair and hickeys on his neck.

“How are you?” He breathed heavily.

A young couple who seemed to be around you guys’ age was at the door.

“Dude, we’re sorry…were you?” The guy asked.

“Yes, actually,” he smiled. “I’d appreciate it if you came back tomorrow.”

“But it’s only 8:30 pm?” The woman said.

“I know. Buh-bye now.”

Sunoo would risk anything to spend time with you. Whether that was helping you do your hair and makeup, taking you on library dates, taking you shopping. You name it.

You two had become inseparable, that it almost made you feel selfish at times. But time was ticking by. All you could do was spend all of it with one another before your flight would board in a week.

You sat playing a card game with Sunoo at the edge of your bed. You were losing horribly.

“Oh no, looks like you made a mistake there, love,” he teased.

You tried your best to smile, not being able to keep this sorrow inside any longer.

“Sun. I’m leaving in 5 days.”

The feeling in the pit of your stomach grew. You had never felt this helpless before. Sunoo, the boy who you’d fallen in love with so quickly, was about to be miles away from you in just a matter of days.

“Come here,” he motioned you over towards his lap.

His hands caught in your loose strands of hair. “You know, knowing how deeply I feel for you, I’m not afraid of the distance that’ll be put between us.”

“You’re not?” You pulled back to look at him.

“Nope, not one bit” he shook his head. “I fell in love with you the moment those eyes looked up at me,” his thumb brushed against your bottom lip.

“How can you not be scared? I’ll be so far away from you.”

“Because I know that this is very special. What we have is nothing ordinary. I fell for you first, everything else came after.”

“But I can’t leave you…”

“I know. I don’t want you to go either.”

You sat in his arms, trying to figure out how you’d deal with having to leave him behind.

The only thing that helped you two face the truth was spending as much time as you could with one another, most of which was spent with you spending the night at his.

You’d hoped it would put your feelings aside — that you’d start seeing it as nothing but a summer hookup — but it didn’t. You loved each other, and that was that. And connecting the way you did each time he made love to you, your feelings only deepened for one another.

He kissed your nose, your neck, your lips. “I love you,” he said. “You know that?”

“I love you too,” you held his jaw in a way you’d gotten used to, kissing his beautiful lips.

…

The day had come. You were extremely nauseous on the way to the airport. This was too much to take.

Your parents were originally supposed to drive you there, but you ended up going in separate cars; you were with Sunoo.

He made sure he booked a ride so he’d get to sit in the backseat with you, holding your hand, trying to soothe your nerves.

It was silent in the car. You could hear only the motor of the vehicle as it passed road after road, making you feel even more sick.

Every time his eyes looked over at you, a sudden ache formed in your heart. This couldn’t be happening. You weren’t actually leaving him, were you? It had to be a dream.

“Look at me,” he whispered. His eyes were laced with worry. His fingers played with yours, trying to distract you.

“You know those curtains in my room? The ones you hate?”

You nodded, trying to remember every single feature of his while your eyes trailed over his face.

“My aunt was planning to get new ones. I wanted to know which colour you liked.”

Sunoo seemed so oblivious to the pain you felt. But in reality, he just couldn’t let you go in a bad mood. He wanted to make your last few moments together were a good memory. Even though this day was incredibly burdening. He could feel the weight in his chest.

“Beige.” You remembered the colour of his shirt the day you’d met him.

“Beige.” He smiled.

You curled up into him, loving the feeling of his arms around you. The way he cradled you so gently, it made you want to keep him there forever.

“Thank you,” you said while tears formed in your eyes.

“For what?” He nuzzled his face against your cheek, giggling.

You would miss this.

“For being so full of love.”

Sunoo pulled away slightly, wiping the tears that were on your cheeks.

“I don’t think I was like this before,” his eyes lowered, a shy smile creeping on his lips. “So I should thank you.”

His fingers traced every detail on your face, a smile still formed on his lips as his eyes examined you.

“I don’t want to see you cry. There’s so much you have to do when you get back. You’ll see your friends again, start your new year in uni. It’s everything you’ve missed these past few months.”

What would you do when you missed him?

“Okay,” you agreed, not wanting to make it as hard for him. He still wiped your tears away, and now kissed your fingertips.

You’d reached the airport in just a few minutes. You were so close to throwing up. Your knees had started to give up on you, yet somehow you still got out the car, walking hand in hand with the one you loved. He carried your bag again, making you remember that day you’d first met.

“You’re not feeling so well, love, let me carry it.” He kissed the side of your face.

Even despite feeling how his hand was in yours, you looked over your shoulder anxiously each second, making sure he was still there.

“There are still a few minutes. I’m not leaving yet.” His hands rested on your waist, one of them coming up to brush your hair out of your eyes.

Your eyes shut once more, trying to relish as much as you could of his touch. You felt a tear slip out your eyes, and you looked away.

Sunoo was trying to avoid his own emotions from taking over, which is why he tried to get you to smile.

His hand came up to your jaw, making you look back at him. “Hey,” he whispered.

“Hi,” you smiled despite the tears that escaped your eyes.

Sunoo felt himself sink deeper in his own sorrow. There was so much he wasn’t saying to prevent from making this harder for you.

“You look so pretty when you smile. That’s all I ever want you to do. How will I be able to wipe your tears when I’m this far away?”

This caused you to break down in his arms. Light sobs left you as he held you close to him.

“I’m so sorry, love,” he felt his heart sink at the sight of you sobbing. “I’m so, so sorry.”

“Sunoo, I don’t wanna go,” you wept. “It hurts so much.”

“I know. I wish I could stop it.”

Your body went limp, you couldn’t form your words. This was suffocating you. You envied the people who had come here to take their loved ones home. It was so unfair.

Your parents had arrived shortly after. Sunoo kept you close, letting them know with a shake of his head that you still needed time. They gave him a nod, walking over to one of the benches.

He held onto you, not knowing how to fix any of this while you broke apart in his arms. All he could do was let you express your grief how you needed to, because it was something he — so badly — wanted to do as well. But Sunoo kept himself from doing so, preventing you from breaking even further.

After your eyes had felt too sore from crying, you heard him speaking to you.

“Baby, hey,” he spoke softly. You pulled away from his hold. “Your parents are here.” He pointed towards them.

As his hold had freed you from him, everything else that went on afterwards felt like a dream that seemed to never end.

You kissed his lips, repeatedly, trying to remember what he tasted like. Peck after slow peck, you could feel Sunoo start to quiver under your touch.

He was crying, and now you were saying sweet things to him to help him calm down.

“Your smile is so pretty,” you repeated his words. “It’s all I ever want you to do.” Your hands were cupping his face. Sobs ripped through him at that.

“I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you more, Sunoo.”

You gave him one last kiss, it was much longer this time, not enough to let go but still bidding goodbyes for the two of you.

Sunoo watched you walk inside, feeling like he’d been ripped into shreds. He was dreading going back home, knowing how memories of you already roamed around in his room.

“I love you,” he mouthed.

“I love you, Sunoo.” Were the last words you said while looking at him, before the two of you had disappeared in different crowds, completely out of sight.

[papiliotao]

꒰ 𝒂 𝒇𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒚𝒕𝒂𝒍𝒆 𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈 ✩࿐

pairing: lyney x gn!reader

content: fluff, modern au, high school au, friends to (almost) lovers, mutual pining, theatre kids, lyney and the reader rehearse a kissing scene

summary: playing the role of his lover in a drama production is easier said than done, especially when you’re just beginning to realize the nature of your feelings for him.

a/n: i had no inspiration for a while but then lyney came along. i’m so normal about him. anyway, i hope you enjoy reading!

When you were told that you had to kiss your best friend for a school play, you were in shock and disbelief — not because you were repulsed by the thought of playing the part of a couple, but because you realized that you didn’t mind the idea of his lips pressed against yours.

You’re not quite sure when the feelings crept up on you, dawning in your heart like hazes of peach and azure that dust the horizon at sunrise. It feels like it’s been an eternity since you started loving Lyney, but you’ve simply never noticed that your adoration was beyond platonic. 

But after experiencing your epiphany, you’ve been wondering if he shares your rose-tinted sentiments. Slowly but surely, you observe that the lines between friendship and romance have become blurred, fusing together in a myriad of watercolour hues.

Every once in a while, Lyney will hold your hand for no reason, the delicate softness of his skin comforting like morning sunlight. There are also instances where he’ll hug you for just a little too long, clinging onto you as if he never wants to let go. And of course, you’ll never be able to forget the sentimental nights spent gazing up at murals of sparkling constellations dotting pristine navy skies, where you'll cuddle with your best friend in an attempt to stay warm.

In these instances, a simple question lingers in the short silences, an untold inquiry that neither of you care to utter in fear of shattering the status quo.

What are we?

Now, as you sit across from Lyney atop the velvety cushions of his living room couch, ready to rehearse very kiss that sent you spiraling into a bout of infatuated hysteria in the first place, your heart can’t help but race. The melody it sings is one that speaks of perplexing feelings and a hope for fairytale endings, and it only amplifies as you look into pale violet eyes that sparkle as iridescent petals flutter about in their depths.

“I’m ready whenever you are,” Lyney whispers, smiling at you reassuringly. There’s something soothing about the expression on his face, embodying the serenity of a gentle zephyr in the midst of a cruel summer.

“How can you be so calm when we’re about to practice a kiss?” you ask, voicing your thoughts out loud. “What if we’re not good enough?”

Truthfully, you’re a nervous wreck. Your fingers tremble, and your mind feels blank. You’ve always known that Lyney was born to be on stage, but you didn’t think he’d be so nonchalant in a situation like this. His disposition is completely composed, not a single spark of anxiety shining through his tranquil demeanour.

On the other hand, you’re constantly pondering the what ifs.

What if you mess the scene up? What if it turns out looking awkward? What if it’s so horrendous that it makes the audience uncomfortable.

However, in total contrast to you, Lyney simply chuckles, his voice ringing out in a clear and soothing fantasia.

“Don’t worry,” he reassures you, keeping his gaze fixated on you. “I’m sure our chemistry will be absolutely perfect. After all, even Lynette has mistaken us for a couple.”

“She has?” you blurt out, both shocked and embarrassed that Lyney’s twin has had her misconceptions about your relationship. The two are practically telepathically linked, so the tall order of fooling Lynette would more or less be akin to deceiving the heavens above.

“She has,” Lyney confirms, a mischievous spark of violet electricity blazing through his irises, “and that’s why I’m certain we’ll be able to pull this off flawlessly.”

He gently laces his fingers around your hand, bringing it up to his chest.

“Besides, it’s not like I’m not nervous at all.” From beneath the soft fabric of Lyney’s clothes, you can feel a gentle thrumming, a beat that resounds at a tempo matching that of your very own heart. “You know, even the greatest of performers get stage fright sometimes.”

In a mystifying twist, you feel more comfortable now that Lyney has told you that you’re not alone in your anxiety. Your relief defies all logic, but perhaps it’s the knowledge that your feelings aren’t entirely unreasonable that soothes your nerves.

“I see,” you whisper. “Well I’m sure you’ll do great. We’ll get through this together.”

Lyney nods.

“I’m just glad it’s you,” he says, pausing for a moment as if deep in thought. “Actually, ‘glad’ would be an understatement. ‘Beyond overjoyed’ is more accurate.”

Your breath hitches, and for a second, the world seems to still, suspended in a momentary utopia. Yet despite your giddiness and the euphoric feelings that arise in your heart, you shrug Lyney’s words off, trying your best not to get your hopes up. If you expect too much, you might find yourself disappointed in the end.

“The feeling is mutual, but maybe we should get to rehearsing now. I think I’m ready,” you tell him, pulling your hand out of his grasp in a light motion, clinging onto the last of his warmth as his skin grazes yours. It’s reminiscent of fading sunlight, comforting you with the dazzling radiance of a dying crepuscule, lulling you into a daze as it parts in shades of twilight that waltz in a dance of fantastical wonders.

“Your wish is my command,” Lyney responds playfully.

However, after only a few seconds, his features shift into a more serious expression. Although the same smile is still adorning his lips, it’s softer now, more sincere.

Is this all part of an act, or is it real?

An unidentifiable emotion now glints in Lyney's eyes in a display of diamond lights, illuminating seas of magnificent amethyst. Locks of platinum hair, composed of starlight essence, frame his face in a way that makes him look undeniably handsome. Once again, your heart, which had just barely stilled, begins to beat in a frenzy.

You want nothing more than to freeze time, stay in this ephemeral moment, relish in the sensation of his breath gently tickling your skin and engrave the ethereal sight before you into archives stored deep within your memories. But unfortunately, it’s impossible to pause the scene before you. Reality, unlike the countless movies and videos you’ve watched to study your part, stops for no one.

And before you know it, the divide between your lips and Lyney’s is diminishing, the blank space fading at a pace that feels both far too rapid yet far too prolonged at the same time.

Closer.

Closer.

And closer.

Until your lips meet in a clash of opalescent sparks, shedding light and embellishing the magical moment with an atmosphere worthy of any stage. The lilac butterflies that dance in the pit of your stomach prompt sensations of glee to arise within your heart.

His skin is soft and warm, and the feeling of his lips against yours is just so right. There’s no one else you’d rather kiss. There’s no one else you’ll ever long for. There’s no one in the world you’ll ever love more.

No matter how much you deny it, your relationship has crossed the line from platonic to romantic, gradually edging closer and closer to an unclear border before definitively falling over onto the other side. Your kiss with Lyney confirms everything. There’s far too much passion, far too much care and longing exchanged in a single act of affection.

Best friends don’t kiss each other like this.

At this point you’re certain the feeling is mutual. Now, all you have to do is wait until one of you inevitably confesses, and you’ll both be able to finally live happily ever after, basking in the splendor of true love.

thank you for reading <3 if you enjoyed this fic, i would really appreciate it if you could comment or reblog!

[seeminglydark]

So… I may or may not have binged your Punk and the Cheerleader tag, Mil-liminal (comic and podcast) and Seemingly Dark over the past week because I am just SO normal about new interests. Any recommendations while I wait for updates? Also, do you have an update schedule for any of your projects that I should keep track of?

oh, wow hi im crying! That's so nice to hear honestly ahhhh. Did you read Prom Night as well? That's on Ko-Fi here just in case you didn't see that one and there's also a very old, not drawn so good but cute mini comic on Tapas about Mick and Reggie called Call Me Mickey <3

Recs, lemme see...I'm bad at this one cuz I forget to consume media sometimes, ✨people in the comments, can you rec some comics and podcasts that might align to someone who likes my media's interests?✨

Webcomics I like! Ride or Die and Long Exposure, B-Side You, Rodney R Rodney, Stealing Stardust, Colour Theory, Plain Boy and Prince... i can't think of anymore at the moment but theres probs a lot more.

Podcasts i like! would you believe I havent listened to very many yet, but I'm enjoying The Night Post, KillJam XXX, and Desert Skies. I've been rec'd the Red Valley, Midnight Burger and a few others I'm interested in but haven't started yet.

So the bad news is I'm super chaotic and my 'scheduling' is uuuuhhh well pretty much at the whims of my brain space, writing and drawing 2 comics (3 right now if we count Creaky haha) and a podcast is... well idk how i ended up here, it's a lot, i too am totally normal about my interests.

The good news is I'm 'required' to upload an Episode of Seemingly Dark once a month and it's usually going to drop on the last Sunday of the month, and also it is available for early access for up to three episodes on either Tapas or my Patreon. The other good news is this is basically my full-time job atm so there will always be A LOT OF content coming, here on tumblr is where I upload art the most and first.

soo...

Seemingly Dark- Last Sunday of every month

Mil-Liminal podcast- in theory once a month but sometimes not, I try. This month probably not cuz I've lost my voice so unless we want Caro with a Cold it might not work lol.

Mil-Liminal comic- sometimes. unforch i never know when. In theory the first whole half of the story is done but when uploading the comic i decided to add a bunch of back story so it's going slower than expected.

so yeah. Thank you SO MUCH for being invested in my work honestly, can't even tell you what that means to me.

-RJ

[skijumpingf1]

Messy (D. Prevc x L. Kos)

I really got inspired by them lately and I couldn’t not write about them so here you go. This is probably one of the fastest and most fun things I have written lately (it took me less than 2 days). Anyway, this is set after Domen wins the world championship. Just to give you guys a heads up, there is sexual content in this. Not too heavy and the graphic part is restricted to foreplay but sex is mentioned.

Wordcount: 2090

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

Domen is buzzing still with energy when they get back to their hotel from the medal plaza. How could he not? He just became world champion. World champion in ski jumping and not even ski flying. Domen fears that the grin will stay on his face for the rest of his life. The medal hangs light around his neck when he enters Lovros and his room. They have been staying in this room for the whole championship, and it shows. There are more than two piles of dirty clothes on the floor and there is random stuff everywhere. Lovros reserve charger is hooked up to Domen’s outlet and spread across their bed. Domens' books lay on the floor next to the door. He doesn't even know why but they have been there since Monday and he knows where he can step and where not to avoid them. 

He spots Lovro already sitting in the chair at the desk. Of course you could barely call the desk a desk anymore, it is more like a pile of ski jumping equipment. The team was at the medal ceremony, he thinks. It was hard to spot anyone in the big crowd. But obviously they could leave way earlier than Domen. Not that Domen wanted to leave. He wanted to soak it all up. The fans, the journalist and Nika. That Nika got her gold medal on the same day, just minutes before him, makes this all even better. 

“Welcome back, Champ.”, Lovro speaks up when Domen closes the door behind him. First thing he does is slip out of his shoes before he looks at his teammate. “Oh, please don't call me Champ.” Lovro smirks at him. “Nope. You are champ from now on.” “You never called Timi that.”, he complains but can't help but smile even wider. He really is the world champion. Still feels surreal to even think about it. “Well, Timi was bragging too much about it. You will go over to business as usual tomorrow, maybe the after tomorrow. As your roommate it's my responsibility to remind you how awesome you are.” Domen throws his head back and starts to laugh. Because there is no way he will ever go back to business as usual. “You didn't really know me in 2016, and it shows.” “You always say it's a blessing.” Because it is. Domen was a total brat back then. He listened to no one, not Peter, not Cene and not his coach. The wins made him arrogant. For his personal development it was good that he stopped succeeding eventually. He got humbled.

Domen sits down on their bed. Unsure what to do now. There are a billion messages on his phone, he knows. Between the competition and the medal ceremony he checked and replied to the most important ones. He should answer all the other texts too, but it feels so unglamorous. Domen doesn't normally enjoy parties but today he has to celebrate. He just became world champion. When should he party when not now? “Can I see the medal?” Domen's thoughts get interrupted by his roommate who stands up from the chair. “You have the same medal from the team competition.”, Domen replies. Lovros and his medals should be somewhere on the desk too, right in between the mess they made. “No, it's different. This one is for the individual. It's more special.” With that the slightly younger one is standing right in front of Domen. Their knees are touching and Lovro looks down to him. Personal space has been non-existent for them since the first weekend they shared a room together. His hair is slightly wet, Domen notices. He must have showered when he got back to the hotel room. “It's not more special, Lovro.” Sure, winning the team gold felt different but not in a bad way. The wins are both special in their own way. Winning with his team felt incredible. The shared joy still radiates through him when he looks at his teammates. Today felt more satisfying. Reliving. Maybe it is the payback for all the other times where he did not perform. 

Lovro picks up the medal from Domen’s chest and Domen shutters when his teammates fingers brush lightly over his thin hoodie. With his thumb Lovro strokes over the golden snowflake. The medal is right in front of his eyes and Domen follows every movement from Lovro with his gaze. „How does it feel?” Lovros' voice is quiet. Very unlike the normal Lovro, who tends to be loud. Domen clears his throat. “Not going to lie, it feels pretty awesome.” Lovro takes his eyes from the medal and looks in Domens eyes. “I bet.”, he says with a smirk on his face. He places the medal back on Domen’s chest but not without giving it a light pat. And then he steps away from Domen. The heat from the younger one is gone instantly. Domen watches as he picks up his phone. He rolls his eyes. Typical Lovro. Always on his phone. “The others asked me if you would be down for a drink at the hotel bar?” “Why are they asking you?” Lovro can't help but laugh. “Because I am always on my phone, and you are never on your phone. So? Are you down for a drink?”, he wiggles his eyebrows. Domens sighs and stands up. “Of course.” He begins to take off the medal but gets interrupted by his teammate. “No. The medal suits you. Wear it.” With a frowned face he lowers the medal again. “Isn't it stupid?” “Not too me.” 

One drink turns into a few. In the end it was more like one glass of sparkling wine and two beers. Still not too much but they are ski jumpers. Both of them are a bit tipsy when they get back to their room shortly after midnight. “I hope you win more titles.”, Lovro says when he enters the bathroom to brush his teeth. “Shouldn't you be hoping that you win titles?” Domen takes his medal off and puts it carefully on his nightstand. One of the few places in the room where he wouldn't lose it. Maybe he should have given Nika the medal. She would never lose his gold medal and would take better care of it. Lovro comes out of the bath and leans against the doorframe, toothbrush in his hand. “It's the way you smile today. So bright. Completely real and absolutely not forced. I have never seen you smile like this before and it almost makes me sad because it suits you so well.” Domen opens his mouth and closes it again. With big eyes he looks after Lovro, who returns into the bathroom again. What the hell? What does he reply to that? 

He is still standing beside the bed when his roommate comes back and starts to change. As if he didn't just say that. Domen shakes his head. If he can ignore it, Domen can too. It is his turn in the bath then. Domen’s cheeks are red when he looks in the mirror. He doesn't know if it's from the alcohol or from Lovros words. With one hand he splashes a bit of cold water in his face, trying to get the redness to disappear. 

When he gets back to the bedroom, Lovro is sitting in the chair again. Legs loosely put on top of the desk. The team clothes are replaced with a white shirt and grey sweatpants. He is speaking to someone over his phone. Probably his mom, Domen thinks. She sometimes works night shifts so it's not too uncommon that they call each other that late. “Congrats from my mom.”, confirms Lovro his suspicion. “Say thank you to her.” From somewhere under his bed, he grabs his sleep shirt, which is basically his team wear just with a small hole on the side. He strips out of his hoodie and throws it somewhere behind him. When he hears his name through Lovros phone he turns around to face his teammate. Lovros eyes are on him. He lets his gaze wander slightly over his naked upper body. “Yes, he is unbelievable.”, he replies to his mom. Domen swallows hard. He returns the favor and checks his teammate out. His hair is messy, but it always is. Last year in Planica he got a chance to let his hand run through it. Back then it was more a publicity thing when he spotted the cameramen. Since then, he resisted the urge to fix Lovros' soft hair more than once. “I am sorry mom, but we have an early flight. It is bedtime for me.” Domen barely has time to register that the call has ended before Lovro is up on his feet. Like it is a reflex, Domen moves forward to the younger one. Lovro hesitates for a second before he wraps an arm around Domens naked waist and pulls him against his chest. Domen feels his body reaction instantly. The way his heart beats faster, how the part where Lovro and him are touching feels electric. He looks up to his teammate. Their eyes meet. “We shouldn't. It's too messy.”, he speaks up, but he knows he won't be able to resist the urge. “We blame it on the alcohol.”, is Lovros reply. His eyes wander to Lovros lips. Within seconds he can feel Lovros lips on his. He wraps his arms around his neck and pulls him closer. Inside Domen something explodes. The feeling of kissing Lovro is addicting. Lovro lets his hand wander over to Domens back and shoulders. A soft moan escapes him when Domen uses his tongue. God they should have done this sooner. They wasted almost a whole season where they could have done this. 

Lovro pushes Domen against the back of their bed. For a second, they part their lips. Domen breathes heavily and rests his forehead against Lovros. Their eyes meet. The light eyes of Lovro are wide and full of lust. Domen takes Lovros hand and pulls them onto the bed. He tugs on the hem of Lovro's shirt. “Same right for everyone.” His voice sounds raspy and out of breath. “Fair.” The other one is pulling his shirt over his head. The first time their upper bodies make contact; Domen can't help but moan. Lovro laughs and lets his hand glide over Domens abs. “Who knew you could sound like this.” As an answer he kisses him again. Lovros' back feels hard against his hands, but his skin is soft. Lovro is pressing gentle kisses to his jaw and Domen throws his head back. He lets his hand glide in Lovros' hair like he craved some many times. It still feels unbelievably soft between his fingers. His teammate slides his knee in between his legs to make more room for him. “We should definitely free you of these jeans.” “And you from your sweatpants.” With a fast movement Lovro opens his jeans. Thank God because they are getting tight. He lets Lovro take them off, who sits up a bit. “God, you are so perfect.” Domen brushes through his hair again and kisses him softly. “You are perfect.” He slips one of his hands into Lovros sweatpants. This time it is Lovro who can't resist moaning. “Do you have a condom?” If they would continue, he wouldn't care anymore. Better to settle this now when he at least can still think a bit. “Yes, I will be right back.” “You carry around condoms?”, Domen asks when Lovro stands up from the bed after he pressed a small kiss on Domen’s neck. “Yes, you never know what will happen. You don't?” “No?” Lovro laughs and steps back to the bed with a condom in his hand. He throws it on the bed before he pulls down his sweatpants and his boxers all in one go. 

Sex with Lovro is easy. They know each other, they can tell instantly if the other one likes or dislikes something. Sex with Lovro is also hilarious. Domen found out that Lovro is ticklish and can't help himself. The laugh from the younger one is music to Domens ears. Sex with Lovro is intense. More intense than it should be for a first time. It scares Domen a bit when they lay next to each other in the dark after they cleaned themselves up. Lovros body pressed into his side, hands intertwined on his stomach. It felt too good. Too intimate. 

[gravitywonagain]

Chairlift Confessional

(a Fresh Powder in the Pine Trees story)

.

The sky is grey and overcast, diffuse light dimming with the approaching dusk as they ride Phoenix Mountain Express up the backside of the peak. The night skiing lights will kick on soon to illuminate the slopes and extend the ski day. This is the third day this week that Wei Ying and Lan Zhan have gone to the backside to wind down after lessons have closed. It’s a new habit, a good habit, if you ask Wei Ying. Lan Zhan doesn’t seem to hate it, either. 

The lift rocks to a stop and Wei Ying leans back. It’s not abnormal for the lift to pause for someone struggling to get on or off the chair, but as the silence stretches, Wei Ying realizes this is some other problem entirely. Whether mechanical or human doesn’t really matter. They’re going to be sitting here for a while, it seems. 

The wind is soft through the trees, blowing powder off in small flurries. It’s cold enough that both Wei Ying and Lan Zhan have their faces covered, Lan Zhan with his actual brandname BUFF in midnight-blue merino wool, and Wei Ying with his 69-cent red bandana. 

The quiet is peaceful and, normally, Wei Ying might be content to just sit here with Lan Zhan and enjoy the company. He likes not having to fill the silence. Likes just being in the same space and not feeling like too little or too much. But there’s… something that’s been brewing between them and Wei Ying can’t think of a better opportunity to have this conversation. 

Still, it’s not easy to break the moment. Wei Ying kicks snow off his board as it dangles from his left foot before propping it back up on the toes of his right boot, preventing too much torque on his knee. There’s plenty of room for it on the four-seat chair with just the two of them. But it’s really just a procrastination. One that Lan Zhan seems to pick up on as he quirks his head to the side in question. 

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying starts, “we’re friends, right?”

“Mn.”

“Yeah? Good, good.” He leans forward on the restraint bar and ignores whatever look Lan Zhan gives him about it. “It’s more than that, though,” he says, “right? I’m not alone in this?”

“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan says, somewhat muffled by the buff but sounding uncomfortable, or maybe just tired. But it’s not a no. It’s definitely not a no. 

“Okay, so I’m not totally off base,” says Wei Ying with a smile Lan Zhan won’t be able to see, but he’ll be able to hear. “Are we gonna do something about it, then?”

Lan Zhan sighs and shakes his head, “Like what?”

Wei Ying thinks he can hear something like a smile in Lan Zhan’s voice, too. It spurs him on. 

"Oh, come on,” he says, teasing, “You've wanted to fuck me since you saw me with my sleeves rolled up, teching a pair of skis."

"No," says Lan Zhan with an abject dismissal that takes Wei Ying by surprise.

"No?"

"No,” he confirms, and then, “I've wanted to fuck you since you told me I had a ski pole stuck up my ass and inquired as to whether the basket was still attached."

Wei Ying feels his eyes go comically wide, "Lan Zhan!" He isn’t sure if he’s reacting more to the profanity or the confession. Both are delightful. 

“Mn.” 

It’s a smug confirmation and Wei Ying is living for it. 

“But I was such an ass!”

“There are,” Lan Zhan pauses, considering his words, twisting his poles with his fingers, “solutions to that problem.”

Wei Ying really hopes he means that the way he thinks he means that. 

“And yet, here we are,” he says, gesturing vaguely to the mountain and present time, “almost two months later and…?”

Lan Zhan’s voice turns serious, "You're my subordinate, Wei Ying."

"I am not. I mean, I could be if that's how you like to play."

"You are. You're my employee."

"We haven't been boss-and-employee for months now."

"We have." He’s calm, serene as always, but the words are heavy, emphatic. 

Wei Ying can’t accept it. He turns to face Lan Zhan as fully as he can, lifting his knee onto the chair. "You follow all of your employees under the rope?" he asks, voice goading.

"I --"

"You let all of your employees bully you into a three hour park session?"

"Wei Ying." 

"Every Thursday."

Lan Zhan shakes his head again. "That's not the point," he says quietly.

"What's not the point?"

"Don't you want to run Juniors' Club?"

That is not where Wei Ying thought this was going. "You think I'm trying to get a promotion by fucking you?"

"I don--"

"Or by you fucking me,” he amends, turning it into a joke. “Really, either way, I'm easy."

"Wei Ying." 

The chastisement in Lan Zhan’s voice is sharper this time, so Wei Ying stops. Changes tactics. Narrows his eyes, not that Lan Zhan can see them. 

"Is this a rules thing?"

"It is an HR violation," says Lan Zhan, like he’s finally back on solid ground. 

Wei Ying scoffs, "Your brother is the owner. I don't think you'll get fired over it."

"I won't."

The implication is obvious, but Wei Ying actually hadn’t considered that possibility. It stops him short. "Oh." 

"Which would be ridiculous,” says Lan Zhan, suddenly more aggravated than Wei Ying has ever seen him, “because it would be my impropriety, my abuse of power, not yours."

"I mean, if abuse of power is what you're into…" Wei Ying tries, weakly. 

"Wei Ying."

"Oh my god,” Wei Ying laughs then, at them, at the whole situation, “lighten up!"

He’s not sure how he can tell with the goggles and buff in the way, but he’s almost positive Lan Zhan is glaring at him.

"Fine,” he shrugs his shoulders, “I'll quit."

"No!"

Wei Ying didn’t expect a response quite that strong. He isn’t really sure what to do with it. "What?” he says, deflecting, “I'm sure I can find something else."

"You love this job,” says Lan Zhan, voice heavy with emotion in a way Wei Ying can’t really parse. “I will not allow you to quit. I'll… I'll refuse your resignation."

That, at least, makes Wei Ying smile. "I'm a carnival worker, Lan Zhan, I don't think you can refuse my resignation."

"You would not do that to Wen Yuan and Lan Jingyi, would you?"

Wei Ying pauses, sucks his teeth. The argument is valid. Unfair, but valid. It’s a trump card he didn’t know Lan Zhan had, but he’s right. He huffs out a sigh, fogging his goggles slightly. 

"Fine! Okay, okay.”

He scrubs his hand, uselessly, over his goggles in frustration. He wants to see Lan Zhan’s face. Needs to see his eyes where he keeps all of his more subtle emotions. Wei Ying can read him so easily through his eyes. This conversation is too much for how covered they are, but then, maybe that’s better. 

“Okay, so, what?” he asks, exasperated, “We wait until the season's over?"

"Are you not planning on coming back next year?"

"Well, sure, but if we start something in the off season, it's not an abuse of power, now is it?"

Lan Zhan considers this argument. Mulls it over in silence. He nods, seeming to find it acceptable.

"So we wait," Lan Zhan says carefully.

"Yeah! It's January, already. So like, three more months?"

"Three months."

"How hard can three months be, right?" Even as he says it, he knows he’s full of shit. 

When the chair kicks back into motion, Wei Ying looks off to the side. The lights are on now and the closer trees have purple and gold Mardi Gras beads dangling from their branches. He breathes loudly in their silence and thinks. Three months is no time at all. Three months is forever. 

He glances over to Lan Zhan, face still guarded by goggles and dark blue gaiter. He wants to reach over to him, to take his hand, to steal his poles. Something. Anything. He keeps his hands tight on the bar, taps more snow off his board. 

It’s doable, he tells himself. They can manage this. They can still be friends, he can keep dragging Lan Zhan out of his comfort zone and pushing him into spending more time with the instructors. Good distractions for both of them. There’s just a new boundary. Wei Ying can respect that boundary. There are, after all, lines even he won’t cross. 

This, their after-work sessions and easy friendship, this can be enough. 

He reaches over and steals one of Lan Zhan’s poles.

“For the flats,” he says, smile bright in his voice. 

“You’re not even strapped in yet,” says Lan Zhan, stealing it back. 

Wei Ying is pretty sure he hears a smile there, too. 

It’s enough. 

[sgiandubh]

If they followed the books they'd be more frisky 🤡

But obviously some of it can't be translated into tv......

Dear Frisky Anon,

You should have discussed it with a real Gabaldon Expert like @gotham-ruaidh, not with Phoney here, who still fumbles around The Fiery Cross. So, I think you will have to ask me once I am done with Bees, which I bet will be just in time for the second half of Season 7 to kick in. I am told J&C do not have any problems in that department until the very end of it, and well, what can I say, it's Herself's prerogative to portray as she sees fit a legendary, all-encompassing love story as the one she magically created out of thin air (all writing is magic, trust me).

Never mind. Your question made me think, just as I was preparing the lazy dinner for 1 (Baby the Retriever is gone until Tuesday evening), about a couple of things, dealing with adapting content to the screen and also about how our minds deal with the difference between a book and the movie/series based on that book.

Adapting Gabaldon is a very difficult task. Take for example The Fiery Cross' never-ending Gathering. My God, all those words to describe just 24 hours! I have just finished with that unfortunate thief and I am so dizzy with it, I can't even remember if they had breakfast yet. The only solution they had was to go off canon and invent something at The Ridge, because it would have taken forever and hey, it's all about a healthy costs/benefits ratio, too. And mark me: Herself is no Marcel Proust, able to make us dream for hours about his description of Vermeer's View of Delft, somewhere In Search of Lost Time. FYI, I had to wait, as millions before me, until I fucked my meniscus skiing (or attempting to snow plough, to be honest) to discover Proust, but never looked back. Also FYI, Luchino Visconti tried to make a film out of Proust's voluminous saga, but failed. Nina Companeez managed (2011) a very, very poor TV series: unwatchable, and I tried. It is unfeasible - so, overall, I think the series scriptwriters' team did a very good job slaloming between botanical babble, Appalachian folklore, the White Sow and yes, J&C getting frisky.

But the thing I wanted to tell you (so long for distributive attention, I've just burnt my baguette and chicken and will have to start it over again) is just how different the experience of reading something and watching the same thing being translated on screen is. I am obviously no neuroscientist, but I am an avid and normally a quick reader. When you read something, you are at once completely spellbound and totally free: you are taken with the characters' interaction, but you are the master of your course imagining them. You placate your own vision of the world on what you read and, at the same time, you are being overtly manipulated by the storyteller: how this can be is, for sure, a mystery. When you watch an adaptation of what you once read, half of the work is being already done for you: you don't have to imagine these people interacting, they are walking and talking in front of you and then, you focus on other things. It's all about the energy they manage (or not) to convey: acting is, in a fair measure, akin to channeling that energy.

As far as I can tell, the scriptwriters opted for a more subdued approach to Jamie, Claire, sex and old age. But can you say with absolute certainty we aren't collectively projecting our own fantasies on what is certainly Herself's very euphemistic, almost conservative way of writing sex scenes? Anais Nin, she ain't. Embraces and moments of - ahem - togetherness abound and we are left to our own devices to imagine things.

Thus, the horrendous and, to be honest, childish battle between the Book Purists' Crowd and the rest of this fandom. It apparently was dealt with pretty quickly, but it did manage to leave a nasty, long lasting legacy: the Book Boyfriend had to go on and remain a screen fantasy. That is wrong. That selfishness almost floundered the book adaptation project and I bet whatever you want me to bet it took deep feelings not to also compromise something else, money can't buy.

A long answer for a simple question. Make of it whatever you wish, Anon: I wrote it with pleasure, though. :)

[chthonicwaternymph]

You're Such an Angel

Kishibe × Reader

C/W: Considerable age gap (reader in early 20s, Kishibe in mid-late 40s)

word count: 692 words Read Corpus & Epilogue here >> Lilies trilogy master-list

~You're like an angel, I can't come close to you~

He would see you almost every day in the convenience store outside of the Public Safety HQ. If he went to buy cigarettes for the night, at around 8:35, you’d be there, buying a sandwich. By the way you dressed, he could tell you were in Uni. Always a little bit shuffled, hair in a messy bun, lush eyes dark with exhaustion. But what would rouse his interest, borderline instinctual, was your serene, languid demeanor. Something inexplicably attractive in the way you moved, almost liquid-like. The way your feet grazed the slippery floors, indecisive gaze into the sandwich shelves. Always taking your sweet time, existing in your totality, something he hadn’t come across in a long time. 

He knew better then to keep his distance, only stealing glances from the corner of his eyes. Nothing sexual, rather curious. A slight, harmless voyeuristic pleasure; the object: your form. He never really wanted anything out of this, he had plenty of other women for that. In fact, he consciously avoided speaking to you whenever your eyes met his, and you would flash a pressed, polite smile. After all, you were far too normal and, let’s be honest here, young for him. Yes, there was something intrinsically inviting about you, undeniably unadulterated too. And it was nothing he should ever even touch at this point in his life, especially at that point in your life. So he was content with just observing your little gestures, never wondering about anything beyond that. He could never really tell if he started going there regularly looking for you or if you just ended up there at the same time as him, only on weekdays, of course.

But fate, a tormentor, would never allow him an existence of such saintliness. Dirty dogs and damned devils, his way of life could never escape him. And it had no place for a belle like you. Yet, that day, when you walked in, soaked to the bone and shivering like a fawn, he felt his resolve teetering. The dark skies outside poured down equal dark. With your hair down and your dress dripping, for the first time you looked somewhat distraught, vulnerable even. Enough for his will to finally give in. He hated the idea of you like this out there, susceptible to whatever godforsaken thing nature can conjure. So, he took out that whiskey flask and took a swig before walking over to you. When your eyes met his, your lips were in a frown, a near pout.

“Do you want a ride home?” he was a man known to get straight to the point.

Your brows were furrowed up, marginally ironical, a skittish blend between hesitance and confusion at his sudden approach. His eyes never left yours, never wandering down. “No sign of the rain stopping anytime soon,” he was intense, coarse, his presence, with intent. You paused for a while, eyeing him, and after decades, he found himself praying…that you would say no.

“Sure, lemme grab a sandwich first,” and you smiled, impish. Tch.

That whole ride to your place, neither of you really said anything. There was a strange calmness to your being, a bizarre familiarity that deeply unsettled Kishibe. It was as if he already knew you, for years, and it was just another ordinary occurrence. You were running your palms up and down your arms for warmth. Soft, skin in goosebumps, your nape and the strands of hair sticking to it like riverbeds. With you sitting in the passenger side, there was no denying it now. Your scent tantalizing, wet allure. 

He knew exactly at that point, he would end up in your bed.

When you got out of the car, he was staring straight ahead. Drizzle dancing in neon-lit roadside pools. “You should not get into cars with strangers, ya know”, he said, exhaling faint smoke. 

“Are you warning me about yourself?”, a soft chuckle. He looked out to see your playful, sly grin. A subtle shift in your figure, a frivolous indication.

What he didn’t know then, what he could never have seen coming, is where you would end up in his head. 

~Wedding doves and leather gloves and all the things you're made up of  What a wondrous thing to be in love~

[our-blood-is-our-ink]

Careful Creatures

Ship(s): Hela x Agatha, Agatha x Wanda, Wanda x Hela, Hela x Agatha x Wanda

Summary: Three powerful beings broken down back to the start somehow find themselves brought together as they relearn themselves and each other

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: angst, descriptions of being burnt, mild gore, sexual assault/non-con/rape, abuse of alcohol/alcoholism/addiction, amnesia, domestic violence, implied use of roofing drugs

Disclaimer: 18+ ONLY MINORS DNI

A/N: Please READ THE WARNINGS before proceeding. If this were on AO3 it would be rate E for explicit material later on in the series, and M for mature material for the heavy content this story deals in

|| next

Chapter One

She falls in a blaze.

Green and gold and black, streaking through the heavens and flames, like some dying star in need of a desperate wish of its own.

Her skin burns and blisters and blackens, smoke filling her lungs, choking off the last vestiges of air they held.

In space, no one hears you scream.

In space, no one sees the last of a once beautiful and powerful empire crumple to nothing but debris and dust, exploding violently outwards as Ragnarok rages its final breath.

Her cheeks become adorn with the cleansing water of her own tears as she mourns, the prophecy she had been bound to at last releasing its shackles on her.

In space, no one sees her cry.

She tumbles through the darkness, with no force to counteract against her initial velocity, and she hurls through the celestial skies.

Eventually, even her godly body cannot handle the vast emptiness of space.

Her eyes slip shut, her breathing slows, and as she falls and falls and falls, she slumbers.

—»•«—

Agnes stumbles up the stairs, her feet tripping over one another as the world seems to spin.

“That you?” Her husband’s voice calls from their bedroom.

Agnes opens her mouth, the words yes, dear on the tip of her tongue, when she suddenly bolts for the bathroom.

As she's heaving her insides out, Ralph’s large hand painfully yanks her hair in a bunch away from her face.

“Get it all out now, I don't want you soiling the bed.” He snaps, impatient.

Agnes shivers as she retches. It was more than the ever-oppressing feeling that something wasn’t right that drove her to stay out drinking until the bars closed.

Eventually, she has nothing left in her stomach to vomit up, and she half collapses against the cool porcelain.

Her relief is short-lived, but she doesn't fight as Ralph manhandles her.

He is her husband. When she married him, she committed herself before the eyes of God that she would be a faithful wife.

Ralph doesn't like it when she's vocal, so she bites her tongue and lets herself get lost in the dizziness her mind is experiencing and doesn't make a noise of protest or pain as he shoves her to the floor and pulls down her pants.

This is her test to bear, for making her mistakes.

You don't deserve this.

—»•«—

Wanda awakens in a cave.

It's not the oddest place she's ever woken up, though how she's so sure of that, she can't really say.

It must be a gut feeling, she decides, as she tries to think.

She knows her name, that's good.

Her age–

She's… Twenty-six? Thirty-two? She can't recall.

That's… Not normal, right?

She places a hand on a rough wall, trying to steady herself as she walks on shaky legs.

Her name is Wanda… Wanda something. Something… Off? Romanoff? No, that's not right. Romanoff was…

Wanda grits her teeth.

She knows enough that her last name isn't Romanoff, but can't remember whose last name is.

That's extremely frustrating.

Wanda stumbles along the cave, trying to find the way out, and wishes Pietro were here.

Pietro. Her brother. Her twin brother. Her brother who–

A stream of bullets hits through her chest, and she collapses to her knees, screaming her pain.

Wanda violently shakes her head, clutching it.

“Get it together, Maximoff.” She reprimands herself, before realizing what she's said.

Maximoff.

Her name is Wanda Maximoff.

That's good. It means she isn't totally amnesic.

She goes over what she knows as she begins to feel a soft breeze against her face.

Her name is Wanda Maximoff. She had a twin brother, Pietro Maximoff, who died by being gunned down. She doesn't know exactly how old she is, but she's somewhere in her late twenties, early thirties. Her parents… She doesn't remember her parents. Possibly dead, almost certainly impossible to find or reach if they aren't. She knows– knew? Knew someone with the surname Romanoff. Someone who… She stole a jacket from? Why was she remembering this and not useful information, like how did she get here? And where is here? And are there people who will be looking for her?

Dread pools in her belly.

People looking for her feels like an ominous statement.

She misses… She misses someone. Someone special. A lover, perhaps? A spouse? A… Child? She’s old enough to have had at least one.

Wanda isn't sure.

Light begins to hurt her eyes.

She's made it to the exit of the cave!

She hobbles, running as best she can, eager, bursting out into open air and freedom and–

Oh.

Oh no.

—»•«—

She burns again, still streaking green and gold and black, but this time, through the atmosphere of a planet.

When she lands, she craters the forest floor and doesn't move.

—»•«—

“Day drinking, Agnes?” Dottie clicks her tongue from behind the brown-haired woman. “I keep telling you we have a decent AA here.”

Agnes does her best to laugh off the comment.

“Oh, you know dear, it's five o’clock somewhere!”

Dottie slides into the seat across from her.

“Look. Your neighbors, I don't know if you know them, the Johnsons, they well… Mrs. Johnson said that late one night when she was just finishing putting the baby back down after a late night bottle feed, that she saw your bedroom window was open–”

“I'm sure whatever she saw she mistaken, Dot.” Agnes smiles as charmingly as she can. “You know how those late nights are with a newborn!”

“She said that Ralph was choking you, Agnes.”

Agnes’s smile slides off her face.

“If my husband,” she stresses, “had been choking me, I would have bruises.”

Dottie’s eyes flick to Agnes’s neck, which is both bare of discoloration, and the tell-tale texture of makeup.

Agnes swings back some of the brunch mimosa in her hand, closing her eyes briefly to gain strength from it.

“Ralph is a wonderful husband. He would never hurt me.” Agnes lies through her teeth. “Is that all why you decided to pay me a social visit during some of my “me” time?”

Dottie shifts, clearly uncomfortable.

“Agnes…” She trails, trying to find the words. “If you ever did need help, Eastwood– I mean, Westview is here for you.”

Agnes turns her smile all the way up to its brightest wattage. “Will keep that in mind, toots! Thanks for stopping by brunch to talk with this ol’ gal!”

Dottie hesitates before she stands and leaves.

Agnes's wildly beating heart doesn't slow until her fifth post-Dottie mimosa has been downed.

The truth is, Ralph does have a habit of choking her… But the bruises always fade by the next afternoon, rapidly going through the stages of healing broken blood vessels startling fast.

Agnes can't recall ever having healed that way before.

No, healing meant fire and death, healing meant agony for days and weeks because she was only ever meant to hurt, not heal.

Agnes shakes her head as if trying to dislodge the sudden pressure she feels.

That's something she has noticed.

Thinking about her past causes her awful headaches and terrible migraines.

It's best to keep to the present.

Agnes smiles at the hostess as she leaves the venue, not worried about paying.

The people of Westview took care of one another.

She doesn't notice the woman with the dark hair and piercing blue eyes who stands up and leaves after her.

—»•«—

It's been two days since Wanda had started off down the rest of what looked like an intimidating mountain, headed towards what looks to be a promising sign of life in the vibrancy of green trees.

Hopefully, there will be water somewhere there.

Wanda knows she has only twenty-four more hours until her body gives out from lack of hydration.

Her heart skips a beat, and the hairs on the back of her neck rise.

Hydration.

Hydra.

Hydra was… Bad.

Hydra is bad.

The word gives her a bad feeling.

She keeps on, not even pausing as the tremors grow stronger from the mountain.

The ruins that lay in pieces everywhere, even so far down from the top where it once resided, make Wanda feel awful enough that she had nearly vomited the first time stepping out into the world and seeing it.

She avoids touching any part of it as best she is able.

She can hear rocks sliding somewhere to her left.

Distant.

Her shoulders drop an inch.

She isn't in direct danger. Not yet.

—»•«—

Ralph’s at the bar.

Ralph’s at the bar and he has all his friends there and she didn't know that the bartender used to date him and–

Agnes is vocal as rough hands grasp at her, groping and tugging and searching as their owners laugh.

“Here, dear.” Ralph’s voice is cold. Mocking. “I know how much you like your alcohol. Drink up.”

She doesn't have a choice, surrounded, as he passes her a cup.

Within moments of finishing it, she knows.

There's more laughter.

“So kind of that Maximoff bitch to leave you a wife.” Someone comments.

“To Ralph, and his whore!” Someone else shouts, to resounding cheers.

Agnes wants to scream for help, but the room is spinning and her limbs won't obey her instructions and her mouth feels too heavy to move and then–

—»•«—

No.

—»•«—

The ground slopes slightly, and grass turns to dirt as Wanda follows the stream she found.

Deeper and deeper it slopes, until she's been walking for at least half an hour, and then she sees a mess of blood and green.

—»•«—

The door bursts open, crashing loudly, just as her hands find their way around the nearest man’s throat, a knee jerked violently up between his legs.

The room freezes. She smirks, throws her head back, and cackles.

[xf-cases-solved]

Valentine’s Questionnaire

These questions are designed to help your secret admirer get to know you and some of your favorite things. When answering, try to keep in mind that there are many different types of gifts that your answers may help your secret admirer create! Remember these are also a starting point and you are encouraged to send anonymous love letters (asks) to your valentine over the next four weeks.

Tell your secret admirer about your relationship to The X-Files. This could be about how you got into the show in the first place, what it means to you, or anything else you’d like to share.

due to poor parenting decisions, i was allowed to watch x-files as a wee babe (five years old, circa 1998). as a result, i kind of absorbed the x-files into my personality via osmosis and it has become intrinsically linked to my soul ever since. so y'know, a totally normal relationship with a tv show 💀

Tell your secret admirer about your favorite things! Favorite characters, ships, scenes, seasons, arcs, etc.

msr 4eva, 5eva, ♾️eva. they invented love. i have always been a huge fan of simp mulder. like, literally always. as a kid i loved the episodes where scully was in peril, not bc i liked seeing her suffer, but bc i liked seeing MULDER suffer bc he becomes so unhinged when she's in danger. (as an adult with a gender studies minor, i recognize how that's not the most feminist pov to have, but sometimes an ardent feminist needs to watch a loser man lose his mind bc the woman he loves has been kidnapped for the eighty fourth time, ok??). i am also pretty firmly an original run fan (s1-7 and then what i consider to be canon after that sort of just depends on my whims). cancer arc and SSoS are always *chefs kiss*

Now what are your least favorite things?

bc of life circumstances that occurred around the same time as its release date, (and also just bc i think it's not a very good movie), i don't fuck with IWTB, unfortunately. (i'll watch gifs of them smooching tho, i'm okay with that much lol). i don't like mulder/other at all, ESPECIALLY diana. and as mentioned above, anything past s7 is kind of up in the air in terms of whether or not i accept it as canon or just disregard it entirely. i enjoyed the revival in that i enjoyed having new content and experiencing that joy of sitting down to watch x-files as it aired again, but i don't actually like the plot of it. the episode with rhys darby can stay, tho, that one slaps

Tell your secret admirer where you fall on the following scales:

Spice Scale

Salt only – no spice at all please! i.e., general audience rating.

Black pepper – a hint of spice. i.e., teen rating.

Chili pepper – there’s a bit of a kick! i.e., mature rating.

Habanero – definitely spicy, but most spice lovers can handle it. i.e., explicit rating.

Ghost pepper – only for the spiciest of spice lovers. i.e., VERY explicit/kink/POANG rating.

literally anything, with some exception with ghost pepper, in that i'm not rly into d/s unless it's rly mild, spanking, or any kind of bodily fluid play besides jizz

Angst Scale

Pale blue sky – no angst, all fluff!

Aquamarine – a little bit of angst, maybe some yearning, nothing too heartbreaking. e.g., the various scenes in Mulder’s hallway.

Cascade ocean wave – a moderate amount of angst, e.g. Pusher or Wetwired. Happy ending included.

Sapphire tears – pain slut. Angst with a happy or bittersweet ending. e.g. abduction arcs, cancer arc.

Catastrophic blues – literally why. Lots of angst with some devastation for dessert, e.g. cancer arc but Scully dies at the end, season 8 and Mulder dies.

i love angst, but prefer it served with a side of hurt/comfort and an at least somewhat happy/ambiguous ending

What’s on your X-Files playlist? e.g. a character playlist, MSR playlist, etc. Bonus points for love songs!

none of the songs i associate with x-files make sense bc it's mostly just vibes. "blue skies" by noah and the whale is one i associate with them, but that is partly bc it was a song i looped a lot when i wrote my multi-chap xfiles fic. i have a headcanon that scully's favorite song is "brandy" by looking glass. anything else kind of just varies. my playlists are weird

What are some of your favorite quotes and/or lyrics about love?

hmmmmm. "this world isn't big enough to keep me away from you" from the song "seabird" by the alessi brothers is a good one if taken in a "no matter what the world throws at us, we'll always find our way back to each other" type of way, not a stalkerish type of way, lmfao. i like the "i love you and i like you" thing from parks and rec, bc i think quality relationships should be built on friendship. if i wasn't doing this questionnaire on a time restraint i could probably come up with something better, but that's what i got off the dome

What are some of your favorite tropes? Are there any you avoid?

i enjoy oblivious idiots, mutual pining, i can always get behind a good ol' "there was only one bed." idk, most tropes are fair game if done well. except 5+1 fics, which i don't like for some reason. i think they just remind me of boring creative writing exercises in college lol

What is your favorite color or color scheme? These can be specific colors or general categories, e.g. jewel tones, cool colors.

fall colors, warm colors, american southwest colors, anything maroon or burgundy, and, in total contrast to the rest, lime green

What’s a fic that you would send as a valentine to someone else? Why would you choose that fic?

like a fic that already exists? oh i have no idea and i don't have time to find something, but i would probably pick something fairly low-stakes with a happy ending and lots of smooches in it, bc i think that encompasses the spirit of the holiday

Share the links to some gifsets/edits that you love and tell your secret admirer why (e.g. do you like the layout? The coloring? The quote that they used? Typography? Simplicity? Parallels?). These can be X-Files/MSR or other fandoms.

?????? idk bro! any gif of them looking longingly at each other, kissing, hugging, or mulder losing his mind bc he's scared and in love are amazing. they could be grainy and poorly colored and i'd still stare at them endlessly. also, if my secret valentine goes with a giftset as the gift, i want them to do it they way that's natural from them. i wanna see THEIR artwork, not someone else's, ya feel?

that goes for all other types of gift as well, btw! there's literally no way to disappoint me, so go with your heart!!

k i g2g, hope this was somewhat helpful. feel free to hmu with any questions and i will try v hard to answer in a timely manner, even if doing things in a prompt, responsible way goes totally against my nature

later,

-diz