#whether that's the best thing for them or not...

[veganagenda]

here are 3 conveniently non-PETA resources for you to read up on to help you understand that wool, leather and honey are not the flawlessly sustainable miracle products you've been greenwashed into believing they are. you really need to stop believing everything an industry's marketing team tells you and spreading their propaganda for them, or nobody who knows any better is going to take anything you have to say on the matter seriously.

despite what you seem to believe, the world doesn't exist within a binary of "leather/pleather", "wool/polyester" and "honey/agave". this kind of black-and-white thinking prevents us from weighing our options and seeking to make purchases that can better align with our values, both environmental and ethical. there are further alternatives to all of the things you listed on the market, and none of these materials are strictly necessary for anything. you can literally just not buy them.

it also distracts us from the fact that the environmental problem extends much further than simply what materials we create, but also from recognizing that both the animal agriculture industry and the textiles industry literally don't care whether their harvesting methods are sustainable or their products are biodegradable, because they're both so ludicrously profitable and face such little accountability for the harm they cause to the environment that they couldn't give less of a fuck. that's the point of boycotting and protesting them to begin with.

Ayoo just to preempt the inevitable dumb takes we’re about to start seeing;

I am PRO-WOOL

I am PRO-LEATHER

I am PRO-BEES

Fuck the idea of replacing durable, sustainable animal products with cheap, flimsy plastic that doesn’t bio-degrade. Agave nectar and other artificial sweeteners are expensive, labor-intensive, and destroy the environment to be farmed.

Do not buy into pernicious marketing campaigns pushed by dickhead organizations trying to stay relevant, like PETA.

[moonstruckme]

First time request! I'd love a poly Jily fic based on the prompt "blood swirling down a shower drain." Maybe the reader just got back from a mission that went wrong and is kinda out of it, trying to wash everything off. James and Lily find them and refuse to let them deal with it alone, just soft, quiet comfort, lots of gentle touches, and reassuring words.🥹 Thanks!!

Thank you for requesting! This turned out so much angstier than I intended. I really don't know what happened but...I'm sorry? Or for the people who are always asking for angst I don't deliver, you're welcome I think? I don't know it just happened I wasn't on the decision-making panel

cw: blood (lots of blood), reader is a bit in shock, nonsexual nudity, death (of a minor canon character, not someone we really know and love), set in canon so there's death eaters/the order/etc., quite angsty (for me at least) but there is comfort I promise

poly!Jily x fem!reader ♡ 1.4k words

James and Lily are cuddling when you come home. Well, they’re sort of just holding each other and trying to pass it off as cuddling. Any one of you going out on an assignment for the Order always makes nervous wrecks of the two left behind, but Lily and James doing their best to distract themselves, a film on the television and each trying not to look like they’re glancing out the window every minute. 

The crack of apparition outside puts an abrupt end to the facade. 

They’re both up in an instant, but Lily puts a hand to James’ chest when he goes for the door. “Wait,” she says. She leaves a spot of blood on his shirt from where she’s picked the skin by her nail down to nothing. 

James’ heart revolts, but he listens. They both listen, until they hear the two-three-two knock that means it’s you. 

Lily manages to move faster than him. She has both the muggle and magical locking mechanisms undone in an instant, opening the door to you. 

To you, absolutely drenched in red. 

It’s in your hair; it stains your clothes; it cakes your face and your neck and your hands. There’s hardly an inch of you left clean. James can’t comprehend it. Was there…was there an explosion of some sort? Did you get splattered by something? He feels sick. 

“Is that blood?” Lily’s voice is admirably steady. 

You nod. “Yeah.” 

James really feels sick. 

“Are you hurt?” She reaches for you, bringing you inside. You move like your body weighs a thousand pounds. 

“No, I’m—it’s old. I’m fine. Remus fixed it.” 

“Good old Moony,” James croaks. It’s meant to be a joke, but truly, he’d love to fly to Remus and Sirius’ flat right now to give his friend the hug of his life. If only there weren’t things for James to take care of here first. 

“What happened, sweetheart?” Lily asks, running a gentle hand up your arm. Blood flakes under her touch. 

“They were waiting for us.” Your voice is low, like it’s the sort of truth that becomes worse once said aloud. Your eyes look bigger and brighter in the midst of all the mess. James wants desperately to hug you, and yet—shamefully—he’s afraid of touching you; like despite what you say, he might find you less whole than you were when you left a few hours ago. “It was just supposed to be Dolohov there, but there were a lot of them. They knew we were coming.” 

“They did this to you?” 

“It…I…” Your gaze moves from Lily, to James, back to Lily again. You look exhausted, haunted, but worried beneath that. A moment later, James understands why. “It was Severus.” 

Lily reacts as though you’ve hit her. Her expression looks like a heart cracked open, but she doesn’t let go of your arm. 

“He used this spell,” you tell her, seeming sorry to do it, “that opens cuts all over the other person’s body. Remus was able to figure a counter-curse before I bled out. I don’t think Severus was aiming for me…” 

Even looking at your face, James is unsure of whether you mean that. The odds that Snape would try to hurt you seem equally as likely to him as those that he wouldn’t. You may only be trying to protect Lily. She looks so devastated, James wants to wrap you both up and never let you go again. 

Something Lily and James have always had in common is how they love. They may not always show it in the same ways, but once they’ve chosen someone, that’s it; they’ll live and die for them. They give away their whole hearts. James has just been luckier in who he’s chosen to give his to. His first love—outside of his family, of course—was Sirius. Lily’s was Snape. 

But, as much as James loves Lily, if Snape showed up on your doorstep right now James thinks he would kill him. 

“I’m sorry,” Lily says to you, her eyes shining. 

“It’s okay.” You extricate yourself gently from her grasp. “I’m going to shower.” 

“Sweetheart…” James reaches for you, but you ghost past his hands, only mumbling again, “It’s okay.” 

Nothing’s okay. Lily’s looking after you like her heart’s been cracked open. From the sound of it, you actually were cracked open for a while. There’s a fracture between the three of you that James doesn’t know how to fix. But certainly he’s going to try. 

“Come on.” He takes Lily’s hand, encouraging her down the hall with him. When she comes, he wraps an arm around her shoulders to kiss her hair. “It’s alright. Come on, lovely.” 

The shower is already running when they open the bathroom door. James shuts it behind them before starting to strip, and Lily’s questioning look only lasts a moment before she’s doing the same. He sets his glasses on the counter. 

“Hi,” he says, pulling the shower curtain open enough to pop his head in. You look surprised, which is a surprise in itself; you must really be lost in your own head not to have heard them enter. “Room for two more in here?” 

There is, of course, room—as if James would ever let you get a place without a shower big enough for three—but still he’s relieved when you nod. He steps the rest of the way in, making room for Lily to squeeze in behind him. You seem to have scrubbed your face clean and now are letting the water do the work on the rest of you. Blood swirls down the shower drain. 

James steps closer, giving you long seconds to back away, to let your face reveal hesitation or denial, before he kisses you. Slowly. Warmly. You soften like butter in the sun, arms coming around him as his do you. 

“Didn’t get to do that properly when you got home,” James murmurs after your lips part. 

“Yeah,” you breathe. 

He fights to keep his lips from twitching at the now-familiar dazed quality to your tone. It is taking every ounce of his concentration to not think too hard about the two stunning women he’s sharing a shower with right now. 

Since Lily is no longer up to being the asker of questions, James gives it a whirl. “Do you want to tell us any more about what happened tonight?” 

Your eyes go weary and somber. He sees your throat bob as if around something painful. “We, um. We lost Edgar.” 

Lily makes a wounded sound. “Bones?” 

James has already drawn you into a hug. You nod against his chest, choking out a weak, “Yeah.” 

“Was it…”

“It was Lestrange,” you answer before Lily has to finish asking. Not Snape. She breathes out. 

“I’m so sorry,” she says, joining your hug. Water runs in rivulets down the three of you, transferring from one body to the other, off James’ nose and Lily’s hair and your chin, pooling in all the places you’re pressed together. James fights an ache in his own throat. You’d all known Edgar, but only you watched him die. This is a grief he and Lily can only share in parts of. 

There’s lots more kisses and murmuring before you get to the business of washing. James runs you over with a soapy cloth while Lily shampoos your hair, the both of them making sure no inch of you goes unseen to. Remus has done a good job; there are no scars where Snape’s curse tore you open. As the blood clears away, James can’t tell where it originated from at all. 

He tells you how happy they are to have you home. You smile at his exaggerated jokes about separation anxiety and squeeze his hand when he presses a thumb into the corner of it, chuffed with himself. Lily apologizes again for Snape, and you both promise her she’s not responsible for him until it seems almost like she believes it. James is kicked out of the shower in disgrace after mistaking your body wash for conditioner. He warms towels in the dryer while Lily works the tangles out of your hair with her fingers. 

When you go to bed, you’re still as exhausted as you were when you came home. You move like your body weighs a thousand pounds, and there’s a haunted look about your eyes, and you don’t seem up to saying much. But you curl up with James’ chest to your back and Lily’s leg draped across your own, and you’re loved, and that counts for something.

[jaehaeryshater]

Robb and Theon in The Kiss of Judas

🎨 art by the talented @shripscapi

This beautiful and, in a way, breathtaking (at least in my opinion) artwork has been in my mind in concept for at least a year, and has been beautifully brought to life by Liesl. I have always felt that there was an almost biblical element to Robb Stark’s arc and his betrayal, by Roose Bolton, Walder Frey, and most pointedly, Theon Greyjoy (though the latter was done with less malice, but then again, that is not a prerequisite to betrayal). Robb Stark is a young king with good intentions, wanting the best for his people, but whether from greed, a want for revenge, or a wish for belonging, he was killed. His murder in of itself was at the hands of Roose Bolton and Walder Frey’s men, but being that those men were not particularly close to Robb nor was the king fond of them, the impact of their betrayal comes mostly from the shock and gore of it all, as well as the disregard for the revered tradition of guest right. Roose Bolton and Walder Frey have a direct hand in Robb Stark’s death, but Theon Greyjoy’s betrayal of his self-proclaimed “brother” has an indirect part in it too (it is to be noted, when I say betrayal, I do not mean to imply that Theon owes loyalty to the Starks, the family that took him from his home as a boy; I am not of the opinion he does, but Theon describes his own actions as betrayal, for personal loyalty to Robb). It is a matter of debate if Theon would have been able to return to Robb without being intercepted by his father if he had chosen to try and warn his friend that the Ironborn were preparing to launch an attack instead of allying with the North. What is not up for debate is that Theon’s capture of Winterfell weakened the North and its morale, bringing into question how they should move forward. On a more personal level, Theon’s claim of having murdered Robb’s younger brothers, Bran and Rickon, was devastating to the young king. The grief was what inadvertently led Robb to sleep with and ultimately marry Jeyne Westerling. While the Freys likely would have tried to betray Robb at some point, if Robb had followed their plan to marry a Frey girl, he would have probably lived for some time, at least to ensure a Frey/Stark heir. Theon does not have full responsibility for all these acts, but his betrayal certainly weakened Robb. Robb and Theon were close as Jesus and Judas were, despite the “kings” being warned or otherwise knowing better. Judas betraying Jesus is more impactful than if it had been another other apostle, just as, in my opinion, Theon betraying Robb is more impactful than Roose and Walder doing the same. On a more general note, while Robb did not die on a literal cross, I do not find it to be a coincidence that he died at a dinner. Robb’s story likely is purposefully inspired by biblical elements, along with being informed by various other historical figures, which I will elaborate on below.

With the iconography in my commission, my intention was for the piece to contain symbols that could pass as something you could find either in a Bible from times past or a Westerosi history book. Liesl’s art is beautiful and too polished, given modern methods, to pass for something found in a medieval manuscript, but it does look like it could be a descendent of such a thing. Medieval art is too archaic for my liking so I had purposefully set out with this compromise in mind, and Liesl’s art style was the closest to my vision. The weirwood is specific to Westeros and the in-world religion of Robb, but the halo is more biblical in nature. My intention was not to portray Robb as perfect or pure-intentioned, certainly not as selfless as the Christian depiction of Jesus. The iconography is meant to be more saintly in nature. Saint is not synonymous with perfect, anyone who knows an extensive amount about saints knows that there are saints canonized that weren’t particularly good people in their lifetime. My particular inspiration was Edward the Martyr, king of England (before William’s conquest). Edward died at the age of 16 under guest right. He was killed by a group of guards, his own people, on his stepmother’s estate. His death, too, was described as Christ-like. Here is a quote from a recount of his death:

“Those magnates had agreed among themselves a wicked plot: they were possessed of so damnable an intention and so murky and diabolical a blindness, that they did not fear to lay hands on God's anointed. Armed men surrounded him on all sides… The venerable king had with him very few soldiers, since he did not suspect anyone, trusting "in the Lord and in the might of His power” — it was just as the Jews once surrounded our Lord… They were seized by a single madness, an equal insanity ... The soldiers laid hold of him: one on his right-hand side drew him towards him, as if he wished to give him a kiss; another grabbed his left side firmly and gave him the death blow.”

Who does that sound like???

I love the idea of Robb as a figure similar to Edward the Martyr. He is a boy-king, and not particularly religious or impressive in feats (though Robb, having bested Tywin thus far in the story, is significantly ahead of Edward in terms of his military). Their death is tragic and they are exceptional, not for being great men, but for being innocent children thrust into a role and then martyred. Thus their stories turn to legends and they are seen as holy or saint-like in nature. Though Robb worshipped the Old Gods, due to his maternal family’s legacy and beliefs, it is not all that far fetched he could have a cult dedicated to him or be revered by the Faith of the Seven later on in Westerosi history.

Concerning other symbolism, I will acknowledge that Robb’s youth is exaggerated here to drive home the point of him being little more than an innocent child. He has not grown his beard yet and he is dwarfed by his furs. His clothes are meant to intimidate, make him look regal and intimidating. But really, it makes him look like a kid. Theon is portrayed as an adult, five years Robb’s senior. He is not meant to be malicious and his love for Robb is not false. He still betrays him all the same, that’s the tragedy of it. Robb knows he is king, knows he should keep a distance from Theon, many have told him. But yet he is informal here, having removed his glove so Theon can hold him. Robb is not relaxed, but that is not due to a lack of affection or some sort of stiffness around Theon, but rather to create an effect of a dead boy walking, rigor-mortis. Theon’s clothes aren’t meant to have any symbolism about him. I looked at all sorts of biblical art and depictions of the Kiss of Judas to decide what colors I wanted Theon to wear. I saw a lot of reds and whites, but I didn’t like that for Theon. I saw gold as well, but we didn’t want to default to House colors as that is overdone. The result was giving Theon the most luxurious clothes possible. Black was an expensive color and velvet an expensive fabric. His garb is more expensive and showy than the King’s himself. That is because Theon is exceptionally vain and Robb is not. Theon has all sorts of jewelry and even has pearls on his boots. Who does that???? It’s so gaudy and impractical, I love it for Theon. The pearls will eventually fall off and he will have wasted a fortune, but Theon does not think about practicality like that. He is a guarded person decorating himself with bits and baubles to give himself some sort of purpose or comfort that is not there. He subconsciously wishes to trick people into thinking he is secure and has value, when he feels no sense of belonging anywhere. No wonder his father bullied him.

My endless thanks and gratitude to Liesl @shripscapi. I love your work and appreciate you. Everyone should follow her account and check out more of her art because it is beautiful. She is a joy to work with and very thorough and dedicated. She has been very flexible and patient with me in the months making this and my past commissions. I have had nothing but wonderful experiences with her, she is one of my favorite and most respected artists in this community. And thank you for anyone who has stuck here and read this, I obviously a passion for this sort of stuff. I love to ramble and this is my hyper-fixation so I’m very excited about this.

[frickingnerd]

dating young aizawa

pairing: shouta aizawa x gn!reader

tags: best friends!hizashi & oboro, flustered!aizawa, friends to lovers, awkward & cute teen romance, talk of marriage

aizawa had a crush on you ever since hizashi and oboro dragged you along for lunch on the rooftop for the first time! ever since then, the young man had secretly been crushing on you…

you quickly became part of the friend group as well! the four of you did everything together, whether it was studying, eating lunch or training! you were inseparable!

it didn't take long for hizashi and oboro to pick up on aizawa's crush on you! he always longingly stared at you and he was so soft and sweet with you, it was pretty obvious he had a thing for you!

but since aizawa would've never confessed to you out of his own free will, hizashi and oboro ended up telling you that their dear friend had a thing for you – and then left the two of you to deal with the mess they made!

both of you were pretty awkward around each other, blushing and all nervous, but ultimately, things ended well, as aizawa confirmed that he truly had feelings for you! and luckily for him, you did too!

the two of you were the cutest couple in class, even if you hated all the attention you got from others! you were both introverts, preferring some quiet alone time, but you constantly had your friends around, teasing the two of you!

hizashi and oboro often asked when the two of you will get married already, amused by how flustered and angry it made you two! you always yelled at them, only for your friends to laugh in amusement

neither of you wanted to rush things or think too much about the future! though several years later, you were still dating. only that now hizashi wasn't teasing you about marriage anymore, as he knew aizawa already had a ring ready and was just waiting for the right moment…

[asharkapologist]

I love love love unreliable narrators, whether they be unreliable in the sense that they’re just in the dark about things like with Katniss Everdeen, or suspicious and paranoid about everything around them, or actually completely insane with a loose at best grip on reality like Patrick Bateman or the guy from Tell-Tale Heart, I love unreliable narrators and being suspicious about the main character and questioning their perception of things

Unreliable narrators are one hell of an idea. You can just write whatever, and if a reader points out "hey the way this scene happened should not be physically possible if it's done the way this character described it", you can just be like "yeah I don't trust that fucker either."

[batsandbirdbrains]

To continue my Dick Grayson and Billy Batson bff agenda: what if it’s a young justice au where Bruce knows Dick was actually five instead of eight when he took Dick in. Or, Dick told him after maybe a month or two when he suddenly remembered he wasn’t actually eight. Bruce updates Dick’s documentation right away, but he keeps him home schooled for a few years because Dick is actually a little ahead of his age group.

But maybe Dick had already started going out as Robin before he told Bruce his actual age. He’d met the Justice League members already. Batman told everyone that Robin was eight. And now he doesn’t want to correct them when they continue to think that’s Robin’s age, because he doesn’t want Dick to feel bad, doesn’t want them to get upset with Dick for not correcting them all sooner. Because Dick really had forgotten, it had become so normal for him to change ages that he did sometimes forget what his actual age was. Bruce didn’t want Dick to feel like it was his fault, because he’s just a little boy, he didn’t have a choice.

So they keep up the misconception that Robin started out when he was eight. Bruce only takes him out on kiddie runs once he finds out - it’s just runs across rooftops so Dick has a chance to run and jump around. Get his energy out. Taunt some muggers while Batman does the actual heavy lifting.

Besides, having Robin and Dick Grayson have such different ages does wonders for their secret identities.

But then the young justice team forms, and Dick is ten years old. He’s in school now, a sixth grader at Gotham Academy Middle School. He started attending Gotham Academy the year prior and tested into fifth grade.

The team thinks he’s thirteen. No one knows Batman and Robin’s secret identities other than Superman and Wonder Woman.

But then Captain Marvel comes into the picture, and Batman clocks him immediately as a kid. He has a ten year old himself, he knows what they act like, even if they are a little mature for their age. Batman doesn’t say anything to anyone else, but he pulls Captain Marvel aside one day and asks him about it. Invites him to the Batcave to discuss it.

That’s when Bruce Wayne meets Billy Batson, followed closely by Dick Grayson then meeting Billy Batson. And they instantly click. They’re best friends immediately. Having someone else who has a secret ID about their age is something they bond over right away.

Whether Bruce ends up adopting Billy too or not, Billy is at the manor and the Batcave all the time after that. Dick and Billy play together, they do homework together, they have sleepovers together. Billy wants to be part of the young justice team, but Dick convinces him that he’s better off without the team anyway. He tells him how inexperienced the team is, how they don’t work all that well together.

Dick and Billy decide to go on their own missions as a mini team. Bruce gives them missions he thinks they’d do well on, and they actually work really well together since Billy has started training with them. They’re not going to work as well together as Dick and Bruce do, but that’s because Dick and Bruce have five years of practice working together. Billy is catching up quickly, though.

The team eventually finds out that Robin has been going on missions with Captain Marvel, but Robin shuts them all down when they start whining and complaining. He explains that he works well with Captain Marvel. That sometimes there are missions that require a smaller team.

When they start being mean about Captain Marvel? Robin is furious. He yells at all of them. Then he stomps away to go find Billy so they can go back to the Batcave together.

Then the dimension splitting thing happens with the adults and the kids being separated, and Dick and Billy work together like a well oiled machine. He’s the one who convinces Billy to transform to Captain Marvel, who comes up with most of the plan from the kids’ side of things.

Once things are all back to normal, Robin is standing next to Billy who has changed back into a kid from Captain Marvel, and they’re both a little exhausted. And Batman crushes both of them together as he hugs them, because he’d been so worried about them.

Idk I just them being buddies and Bruce being a doting dad

[formulafanfics13]

First Day, First Look - Toto Wolff 🔥

Masterlist || Part 2

okay so i got a bit carried away tith this one... 10K special ig🫣

The Mercedes-AMG Petronas Formula One Team factory didn't usually buzz at 8:57 a.m. But today wasn't usual.

Today, Kimi Antonelli, the prodigy, the boy genius, the teenage Formula 2 phenom turned official Mercedes F1 driver, was arriving for his very first day.

The corridors were sharper. Cleaner. Engineers passed by in pressed polos and fresh white sneakers. Someone actually wiped down Toto's coffee machine. Twice. Just in case.

Everyone knew it mattered. This was the beginning of something. A new chapter. And Toto Wolff, standing by the front reception, hands in his pockets, navy blazer impeccable, wasn't just here to welcome a driver.

He was here to welcome a legacy. But he wasn't expecting her.

The door slid open with a soft hiss. Security nodded them through. Kimi walked in first, tall for his age, hair neatly tucked behind his ears, a shy smile tugging at his mouth like he wasn't sure if he was meant to be this nervous. Behind him came his parents, warm, friendly, unassuming.

And then Toto saw her.

Kimi's older sister.

She walked like she belonged nowhere and everywhere all at once. Dark coat draped over her arm. Black slacks that didn't cling but flowed. Her hair was twisted up in a lazy knot with sunglasses perched on top, even though the sky was overcast. She carried a camera bag, no obvious brand, worn leather and quiet quality. And her eyes, her eyes, swept across the Mercedes lobby with something between disinterest and clinical fascination.

She wasn't impressed. She was observing.

And it hit Toto like a gut punch. 

Not just her beauty, though fuck, she was beautiful in that understated, I-don't-try kind of way that makes men lose their minds. But her presence. The way she stayed one pace behind her family. The way she nudged Kimi's arm when he hesitated by the sign-in tablet, whispering something that made him relax.

Toto had spent decades around the world's most powerful women. But this? This was different. She wasn't trying to be seen. She just was.

"Kimi!" he said, stepping forward with a wide smile, voice booming and warm. "Welcome to Brackley."

Kimi shook his hand with both of his own, a little too tightly. "Thank you, Toto" Then, without missing a beat, he turned toward his family. "This is my mama, my papa, and my sister."

His sister.

Toto turned, politely, and extended a hand. "It's lovely to meet you all."

Her hand slid into his last. Warm. Slim. Calloused at the fingertips. Photographer, he clocked. Possibly film. Not new to the world. And when she looked up and met his gaze, fuck.

Her eyes were darker than he expected. And she held his stare.

"Thanks for having us," she said, voice soft but controlled. No trace of nerves. A different accent than Kimi's, same base, but smoothed out by time abroad. She chose how she spoke.

Toto wanted to ask her a hundred things. And say nothing at all. Instead, he nodded once, slow. "We're very happy to have you here."

Kimi's parents beamed. Her smile didn't quite reach her eyes, not guarded, but measured. Like she knew the effect she had and wasn't sure whether or not to weaponise it.

But what struck Toto more than anything... was how close she was to Kimi.

It wasn't just protective big sister energy. It wasn't distant affection. It was bonded. Every time he glanced toward her, she was already watching him. When he walked a few steps ahead, she matched pace. When he laughed nervously at Toto's jokes, she tilted her head like she memorised the sound.

And he leaned on her without even realising it. Brushed against her arm. Checked her expression. Smiled when she nudged him in reassurance. They moved like they shared a nervous system. Four years apart. But soul twins. Siblings and best friends.

At one point, during a break in the factory tour, when one of the engineers offered to show Kimi the simulator rig in the next room, Kimi hesitated.

He turned to her. "You wanna come?"

She shook her head. "Nah, go ahead. You'll be fine."

"You sure?"

"Positive." She said it like she meant it. He left with a smile, finally looking relaxed for the first time that day.

Toto didn't miss a second of it. He cleared his throat lightly, and she looked back at him. "You two are very close," he said.

A shrug. "He's my favourite person in the world. Always has been."

"You don't get the impression he's nervous around you."

She smiled. "That's because he's not."

"Do you keep him grounded?"

"I try. But he's always been better than people give him credit for. Smarter. More self-aware." Her tone was soft but proud. "Everyone wants to talk about how young he is, but no one sees how old his soul is. He was born for this. He just doesn't like showing off."

Toto nodded slowly. "And you?"

"What about me?"

"Are you good at showing off?"

She tilted her head. "Wouldn't you like to know."

That landed like a match dropped in gasoline. Toto didn't flinch. Didn't smirk. He just watched her, and she watched him back.

She wasn't afraid. She wasn't flirty. She was simply present, and in full control of the electricity between them.

"I take it you're not based in Italy anymore," he said.

"I split time," she answered. "London. Florence. Sometimes Milan. I do freelance photography and film work. Architecture. Documentary-style mostly."

"Ever done motorsport?"

"God, no."

He laughed. "Good. Don't start. It'll ruin your soul."

She cracked a real smile then. Something deeper. "You sound like you speak from experience."

He met her eyes again. "I do."

They stood there for a moment. The factory noise behind them softened to a hum. Her fingers toyed absently with the strap of her camera bag. "I should find Kimi," she said finally.

Toto nodded. But as she turned, he said, "You can stay."

She looked over her shoulder.

"I'd like to speak more. If you'd let me."

She considered. "Maybe."

She didn't expect Toto Wolff to offer.

But when she paused near the glass corridor junction, half-intending to ask someone where Kimi had gone, Toto glanced at his watch and murmured, "He'll be with the simulator team. Come, I'll take you."

He didn't phrase it like a suggestion. Just turned and began to walk beside her, long legs in perfectly tailored trousers, navy cuff rolled to his wristwatch, voice soft but cutting through the silence like a knife through silk. She followed, shoulder to shoulder.

The factory corridors were sleek, clinical, the whole place felt like it had been sanitised and polished within an inch of its life. But next to Toto, she didn't feel small or out of place. He didn't slow down for her. He didn't lead either. Just walked like they were equals.

And close. Too close. She could smell him again, expensive, precise. There was something magnetic about how he moved. The way his body seemed to orbit closer to hers with every quiet step. It wasn't overt, but it was intentional.

She noticed. She also didn't pull away.

On the way, they passed the canteen, sleek windows, tall bar stools, brushed steel and light wood. A small group of people sat inside, eating quietly. Among them, her parents.

"Ah," Toto said, nodding once. "We should collect your mother and father as well. No point in repeating the full factory induction twice."

She smiled softly. "Good luck getting my mum to stop asking questions. She's in love with this place."

"Your dad hasn't said much."

"He won't. He's proud of Kimi, but he hates the press. Cameras. Anything loud. He's a good man, but quiet."

"I noticed," Toto murmured. "He watches everything."

"He does," she agreed. "And when he does speak, everyone listens."

Toto opened the door, and the sound of her mother's voice reached them immediately, enthusiastic and animated, already deep in conversation with one of the factory chefs about the best kind of flour for Emilia-Romagna pasta. She laughed.

Her father looked up first and nodded respectfully. Her mother lit up like a firework.

"Oh! We were just saying how clean everything is! And the coffee! Toto, you must thank the chef for me, it's better than Milan."

Toto smiled, utterly composed. "He'll appreciate that. We're happy to have you both here."

She watched her father stand slowly, brush off his trousers, and fall into step behind her without a word. Her mother kissed her cheek quickly before launching into a quiet flurry of questions in Italian. She answered a few, distracted by the sound of footsteps ahead.

There he was. Kimi. Coming down the hallway from the simulator wing, still in his polo, cheeks slightly flushed, hair messed up from the headset. He spotted them instantly. And even from ten steps away, she could see the way his gaze flicked, from her, to Toto, to how fucking close Toto was standing next to her. Barely a hand's width between them. Her body relaxed. His jaw tight.

She smiled. Innocent. Almost.

"Kimi," Toto greeted, slowing his pace just slightly. "We're just on our way to my office for a quick debrief. Thought we'd collect you all together."

Kimi nodded, eyes still flicking back and forth. "Yeah. Sure."

The group fell into a rhythm, Toto and the parents ahead, chatting about heritage and factories and family pride. And her and Kimi? They trailed just behind. Quiet. Familiar. Side by side like always.

He didn't speak at first. Just glanced at her again. Then groaned softly under his breath.

She smirked.

"Please," he said, dragging the word out like it physically pained him. "Please don't start with my boss."

She bumped his shoulder lightly. "I haven't done anything."

"You're standing this close to him," Kimi muttered. "You're doing the look."

"What look?"

"You know what look."

She grinned. "Are you telling me I'm not allowed to have chemistry with the man who pays your salary?"

"Yes," Kimi deadpanned. "That is exactly what I'm telling you."

"Why? Scared he'll promote me instead?"

Kimi gave her a long, slow glare. Then cracked a smile, reluctantly. "You're insufferable."

"Yeah," she whispered, teasing. "But you love me."

He rolled his eyes, but the smile stayed. Because this was them. Always had been. Banter layered over bone-deep loyalty. He could be annoyed, but he never pushed her away. She looped her arm through his as they turned the final corridor, just before Toto held the door open to his office, and whispered, "You've got this, little brother."

Kimi nodded, heart pounding but steadier now. And behind them, Toto glanced over his shoulder just once, watching them both. Watching her. Still saying nothing.

But the look on his face? Dangerous. Interested. And absolutely not done with her yet.

Toto's office was no clutter. No noise. Just minimalist lines, a long dark oak table, black leather chairs, and floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked a portion of the Brackley test track. Everything inside was ordered and cool. Like him. Like he'd built the space to reflect his exact way of thinking: sharp, efficient, restrained. And yet, as the Antonelli family took their seats around the table, the energy was anything but restrained.

Kimi sat beside his father, shoulders still a little stiff. She perched next to her mother across the table, camera bag placed neatly at her feet. Toto sat at the head of the table, tablet in front of him, sleeves rolled slightly, collar sharp, watching them with a subtle attentiveness that hadn't waned since she walked through the door.

He was focused. But on more than just Kimi. "All right," Toto began, tapping his screen once. "A few simple things I like to go through with all our incoming drivers and their families."

He glanced up, smile polite but real.

"You are, of course, invited to attend any race you'd like. We'll arrange paddock passes, hospitality access, whatever makes you comfortable. There are designated family zones, media guidance, it's all handled internally. If there are ever any concerns, I'd rather you raise them directly with me."

Kimi's mother nodded, grateful. "That's very kind. We were unsure what to expect."

"We've had many young drivers come through this team," Toto said gently. "But Kimi is one of the few we've brought up from the very start. That makes you part of the family."

Kimi looked down, cheeks flushing a little. She smiled softly at him across the table. Her fingers twitched, like she wanted to reach out and squeeze his hand, but didn't want to embarrass him in front of The Boss.

Toto continued, tapping the screen again. "We'd love for all of you to attend the first race of the season," he said. "It sets the tone, for Kimi, and for the fans. Seeing a united front around a new driver helps build that connection."

She tilted her head, eyes still on the view out the window. "Will there be champagne?"

The room froze for half a second. Kimi snapped his head toward her. "Seriously?"

She shrugged, deadpan. "I'm just asking the important questions."

He groaned, then smacked her arm, not too hard, but enough that the sound snapped against the silence.

She turned to him, eyes narrowed. "Kimi!"

"Don't say shit like that in front of Toto!"

"I didn't say anything bad!"

"You said champagne like you were gonna shotgun it-"

"I didn't even say I wanted to drink it-"

"You implied it!"

She went to flick his arm back, and he yelped as she connected first, a sharp jab to his shoulder that made their mother sigh deeply from across the table.

"Basta," she muttered. "Stop behaving like bambini."

Kimi rolled his eyes. "She started it."

"She's twenty-two."

"She's still sucking-"

"Kimi!" she gasped, half-laughing, half-scolding. "Watch your mouth!"

"I was gonna say sucking up the champagne," he grumbled, folding his arms. "Jesus."

Toto made a small sound. Quiet. Controlled. A smirk. Barely-there. Covered instantly with a hand against his jaw as he leaned back in the chair, fingers tapping his lower lip, trying desperately not to smile like the image of her drinking champagne from a race bottle hadn't already rooted itself somewhere dark behind his ribs.

She noticed. Of course she did. And as Kimi leaned across to poke her again, she grinned, wide, unapologetic, the kind of grin that said I could ruin everything in this room if I wanted to.

"Anyway," she said sweetly, turning back to Toto like she hadn't just caused a public sibling meltdown. "If there's champagne and a view, I'm in."

Kimi groaned again.

Toto cleared his throat. "We'll ensure there's both."

Their father just shook his head. Their mother muttered something in Italian under her breath about drama.

But Toto? He watched her laugh and lean back in her seat, her legs crossed, her eyes dancing, and for the first time in weeks, he felt dangerously close to smiling like a man who'd just been dared.

*

It was quieter than usual in the upstairs lounge.

Mid-morning, coffee mugs half-full. A playlist murmured low from someone's phone docked nearby, soul music, older, vibey. The kind of tracks Lewis liked to play when he wanted the room to feel calm. Safe.

George was reclined in the corner sofa, legs stretched out, one hand lazily spinning a protein bar across the table. Lewis leaned back against the armrest, black hoodie sleeves pushed up, relaxed but focused. Kimi sat opposite them, knees bouncing, chewing the edge of a straw like he was trying to bite through the nerves building in his jaw.

He hadn't spoken for ten minutes. Which, in and of itself, wasn't strange. Kimi didn't talk much around them unless he had something worth saying. But the silence today had a different weight. A hum in the air. Like he was sitting on a bomb with the pin in one hand and no plan in the other.

Lewis clocked it first. "You good, man?" he asked, brows raised.

Kimi looked up. Blinked. "Yeah."

George tilted his head, studying him. "Sure?"

Kimi sighed. Then, very slowly, put his water bottle down and said, "Can I ask you something?"

Lewis and George both straightened just a little. "Course," Lewis said. "Everything okay?"

Kimi hesitated. Looked at the floor. Then looked back at them and said, in a flat, dead-serious voice:

"I think my sister's going to end up sleeping with Toto."

Silence. Dead fucking silence. The kind that cracked open in slow motion.

Lewis blinked. Once. Then again. George actually choked on his protein bar, coughing and grabbing his water bottle like he'd just swallowed a full marble. Kimi didn't move. Just sat there, perfectly still, like he'd been waiting to say it and now that it was out, he couldn't unsay it.

Lewis stared at him, jaw tight, lips parted in something between confusion and cautious dread. "I'm sorry- what?"

Kimi didn't flinch. "I think she's gonna sleep with him."

George wheezed. Lewis leaned forward, elbows on knees. "Kimi."

"I'm not joking," Kimi said flatly.

"No, I can see that," Lewis replied slowly. "That's the terrifying part."

George finally cleared his throat, face red. "Okay, wait. Start again. From the top."

Kimi sighed and leaned back, arms crossed. "She's been texting him."

Lewis and George exchanged a look so loaded it could've powered a race simulator. "Texting?" George asked.

Kimi nodded. "Yeah."

"How do you know?"

"Because I saw it. The contact name is just 'TW.' No emojis. That's so suspicious."

"Wait, you looked?" George asked, half-grinning.

"I didn't look, she left her phone open in the kitchen while making coffee and I saw a whole string of messages from him. He texts her at midnight."

Lewis winced. "That's not... ideal."

"She smiled at the phone," Kimi added, almost bitterly. "Like a nice smile."

George blinked. "What's a nice smile?"

"You know what I mean. The kind you make when a man who's too old for you says something smooth."

Lewis cleared his throat. "How long's this been going on?"

"Since the first day my family came."

George rubbed his hands over his face. "Fuck me."

Kimi groaned. "I told her not to start."

Lewis leaned back again, quiet for a moment. Then, "Look... have you asked her?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because she'll lie. Or worse, she'll smirk."

George nodded slowly. "Smirking is worse."

"She smirks when she's about to do something unhinged."

Lewis exhaled through his nose. "And Toto?"

"I don't know," Kimi snapped. "That's the worst part. He's so, controlled. But he was standing this close to her in the hallway. Like, too close. For anyone. Ever. And he's my boss."

George made a low whistling noise.

"Do you like Toto?" Lewis asked gently.

Kimi blinked. "Yeah, I do. That's why I'm spiralling."

"So what do you want to happen?"

"I want her to leave him alone."

"Do you want him to leave her alone?"

Kimi opened his mouth. Closed it. Looked down. "I don't know," he admitted. "I want someone to be in charge of her. But I don't want it to be my literal boss."

Lewis stared at the floor for a long second, then looked up. "That's fair."

Kimi ran a hand through his hair.

George shifted in his seat. "You think they've sent-?"

"I don't want to think about that," Kimi hissed. "But probably not yet. She moves slow. Until she doesn't."

Lewis tried, tried, not to laugh. "She sounds like a handful."

"She's the best person I know," Kimi muttered. "But she's also capable of absolute chaos. She kissed her philosophy professor in front of the entire cafeteria in third year because he gave her a B."

George slapped the table. "I'm sorry, what?"

"She said it was 'a protest kiss,'" Kimi said grimly. "And then the next week, he bumped her up to an A."

Lewis leaned back again. "That poor man never stood a chance."

Kimi nodded solemnly. "Neither does Toto."

And for a second, a long second, all three sat there in a stunned, chaotic hush. Until George finally said, "If she does sleep with him, do we have to pretend not to know?"

Lewis didn't miss a beat. "We have to pretend not to care."

Kimi put his head in his hands. And somewhere in the factory, maybe in an office, maybe mid-text, Toto Wolff was already falling headfirst into the storm.

No one had spoken for almost two minutes. Then Kimi exhaled through his nose and sat up. "...You should meet her."

George looked up. "What?"

"My sister. You should both meet her. Properly."

Lewis's eyebrows raised just slightly. "You sure?"

"No," Kimi said. "But yes."

George tilted his head. "Why?"

"Because maybe if you see her in real life, you'll understand why I'm losing my mind."

"I thought you didn't want us involved."

"I didn't," Kimi said. "But I've realised I need back-up. Or at least... validation."

Lewis smiled faintly. "So we're not stopping her. We're just... observing the crime."

Kimi groaned. "Something like that."

George stretched, tossing the protein bar wrapper into the bin across the room. "Alright. I'm intrigued."

"You'll like her," Kimi muttered, mostly to himself. "You're only a few years older than her anyway."

George blinked. "Excuse me?"

"She's twenty-two."

Lewis let out a soft oof. "That's barely off your radar."

George turned to him, scandalised. "I do not have a radar."

"You definitely do," Lewis said calmly.

Kimi waved a hand. "It doesn't matter. She's not gonna sleep with you, she's too smart for that."

George raised both hands. "Hey! I'm just showing up for intel!"

"You're showing up because you want to see what kind of girl has Toto Wolff texting at midnight."

Lewis glanced sideways at Kimi. "Is she single?"

Kimi looked horrified. "Do not start."

Lewis laughed, holding up his hands in surrender. "Kidding."

"Are you?" George muttered.

Kimi groaned again. "Listen, she's got that kind of energy that makes people say yes to shit they shouldn't."

"That sounds like my ex," George muttered.

"She's not like your ex," Kimi said flatly. "She's... unpredictable. Like, she reads Walter Benjamin and watches Love Island. She cries at sad dog videos but argues about free will for fun. She can't cook for shit but once negotiated 25% off a tattoo just by flirting with the artist."

Lewis nodded slowly. "Dangerous."

George looked worried. "I might fall in love with her."

"No," Kimi said immediately. "You won't."

Lewis grinned. "Now I'm curious."

Kimi leaned back again, defeated. "Fine. You want to see the circus? I'll send a message. She's in London this week. I'll get her to swing by the factory tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" George blinked. "That soon?"

"If I wait, you'll both overthink it. And I need someone else to see what I'm seeing."

Lewis nodded, already mentally clearing his schedule. "I'm in."

George hesitated. "Okay. Fine. I'll come."

Kimi looked between them, narrowed his eyes. "Don't fall for her."

George grinned. "No promises."

"I mean it, George."

Lewis just smirked. "Don't worry. We'll behave."

Kimi shook his head and pulled his hoodie back up. "You don't know what you're walking into."

And deep down, he knew he'd regret this. Because once they met her, once they saw her, there'd be no walking back. Not for any of them.

*

She didn't ask what to wear. Which meant she was already planning to make a point.

Kimi had told her to come by at 10:45. Not early, not late, just enough time for things to be casual but still controlled. She'd said, "Sure," with that smirk in her voice he knew meant trouble. And now, as they stepped out of the sleek black courtesy vehicle in front of the Brackley entrance, he knew he'd fucked up.

She looked unreal. Not overdressed. No, that would've been too obvious. But perfectly in-between. Black wide-leg trousers that hugged her hips, a fitted white tank top under a lightweight linen shirt tied loosely at the front, sunglasses perched on her head, a dainty chain around her neck. Her camera bag was replaced with a small structured tote. She smelled like grapefruit and something deeper. Something expensive. Like a warning dressed in citrus.

She didn't look like she was here to meet anyone's little brother. She looked like she owned shares in Mercedes.

Kimi adjusted the strap of his backpack and groaned softly as the glass doors slid open. "Don't do the smirk," he muttered.

"I'm not smirking."

"You're always smirking."

"I just have good bone structure," she said sweetly, brushing past him as they stepped into the front lobby.

Toto was already waiting. Standing exactly where they had first seen him days ago, crisp white shirt today, no jacket, sleeves rolled to the forearms, watch gleaming. He looked calm. Polished. Prepared.

And the second he saw her, his whole posture changed. His mouth twitched. His arms relaxed. His eyes tracked the way she walked across the marble floor like he was watching an impossible line come to life. When she reached him, he didn't hesitate.

"Good to see you again," Toto said, stepping forward.

"Likewise," she said, slipping off her sunglasses and tucking them into her bag.

He leaned in slightly, not quite touching her, but definitely closer than necessary. She tilted her head. A mutual pause.

And then, he smiled. Softly.

Not for Kimi. Not for show. Just for her. That was the exact moment the door at the back of the lobby opened, and George Russell and Lewis Hamilton walked in.

Kimi heard George suck in a breath and immediately wanted to throw himself into the nearest wall. The timing was criminal. Lewis's eyebrows shot up. George actually stopped walking. They were close enough to hear Toto's next words. "I hope the journey was comfortable?"

She nodded, smooth. "No complaints."

"You look..." Toto paused, carefully choosing his word. "...well."

She smiled. That smile. The one that made Kimi want to throw something.

Behind them, George muttered, "Holy shit."

Lewis pressed his lips together like he was holding back a noise, a laugh or a gasp, Kimi couldn't tell. Maybe both. She turned at the sound. Saw them. Her eyes lit up.

"You must be George and Lewis," she said, like she was greeting two men she'd been briefed on before a boardroom pitch.

And the worst part? She made it sound like they should be honoured.

Lewis stepped forward first, offering his hand. "I've heard a lot about you."

"Oh god," Kimi muttered behind her.

She took Lewis's hand, a graceful shake, and gave him the same kind of once-over he usually reserved for billionaires and art collectors.

"All good things, I hope."

Lewis smiled. "Mostly."

Then George stepped forward. Taller than her, but visibly stunned. "Hi. Yeah. Um-hi."

She grinned. "You're only two years older than me, right?"

George blinked like she'd just hit him with a flashbang. "Uh. Yeah. Twenty-four."

"Cool," she said, easy and smooth. "Kimi said we'd get along."

Kimi made a strangled noise in the back of his throat. Toto watched it all with his arms folded, quiet, but the smirk on his face was barely contained. Like he was enjoying the show more than he should've been. Like he was the only one in the room who knew how this story ended.

And Kimi? He stood dead-centre in the middle of it, praying the floor would open beneath him. "I need a Red Bull," he muttered.

George laughed. "You're driving for Mercedes."

"I don't care. I need one intravenously."

"Someone's in a mood," she teased, reaching out to tug Kimi's sleeve.

"Because you've weaponised my entire team, that's why."

"I'm just being friendly," she said with exaggerated innocence.

Lewis leaned toward Toto, low enough that only he could hear: "You're fucked."

Toto just smiled. And didn't deny it.

The conversation drifted toward the simulator wing like a quiet shift in gravity.

They'd barely gotten through fifteen minutes of easy chatter, Lewis asking her how long she'd been shooting film, George trying (and failing) not to flirt while complimenting her watch, Kimi hovering like a storm cloud ready to ruin any moment that dared become charming, before Toto glanced at the time and cleared his throat.

"Right," he said, voice crisp and measured. "The three of you have sim testing booked in for the next two hours. Setup's already live. Engineers are waiting."

Lewis nodded. "Copy that."

George sighed dramatically. "No mercy today?"

Toto smirked. "Not from me."

Kimi groaned softly, already shifting into work-mode. He adjusted his polo and glanced at the corridor, then turned toward her, frowning. "You okay here?"

She raised one eyebrow. "Do I look like I'm in danger?"

He opened his mouth. Closed it again. Then turned to Toto. "Will someone be with her?"

Toto tilted his head slightly. "I'll stay."

Three words. Casual. Light. Deadly.

Kimi looked at him. Looked back at her. Her lips were already twitching.

He groaned aloud. "No."

"I didn't say anything," she said, biting back a grin.

"Your face said it."

George watched them like he was front row at a play. Lewis just chuckled under his breath and took a sip of water, wisely not getting involved.

"I'm capable of being unsupervised for two hours," she added, leaning lightly on the armrest of the nearby chair. "Unless you want me to get bored and accidentally activate the pit wall broadcast."

Toto smiled, small and dangerous. "I'd like to see you try."

Kimi groaned again, dragging a hand down his face like the soul was leaving his body. She caught his eye just as the others turned to leave. He gave her a look. A very specific look. Please don't do it.

Her response? A slow, shit-eating grin, as she lifted two fingers in a peace sign and winked.

Toto waited by the hallway, hands in his pockets, saying nothing. But the way his gaze lingered as she stepped toward him, the way his eyes slid from her earrings to her waist to her mouth, it was already written all over the walls of this factory.

Kimi was halfway down the corridor when he muttered to George and Lewis, "This is going to kill me."

George grinned. "On the bright side, I totally see it now."

Lewis just clapped Kimi on the back and said, "It was already too late the second he asked her to stay."

Toto's office was quiet. The door clicked shut behind her with the kind of softness that felt intentional. Like even the architecture knew not to make a sound while she stepped inside.

She didn't sit right away. Just walked slowly toward the window, taking in the view, the stretch of the test track in the distance, the shimmer of glass catching muted spring light. She wasn't pretending not to be impressed. She wasn't impressed. But the silence, the space, the control of the room, it suited him.

When she finally turned around, he was already at the small bar cart, fixing two coffees with unhurried hands. "I hope you take it how I do," he said over his shoulder.

She quirked an eyebrow. "How's that?"

"Strong."

She smirked, stepping forward as he handed her the cup. "That was a loaded sentence."

He smiled, not full, not soft. Just enough to make her feel the weight of it.

They sat. Opposite corners of the long sofa. Enough distance to feign innocence. Just enough proximity for the tension to build. "Thank you," she said after her first sip.

Toto looked over at her. "For the coffee?"

She shrugged, swirling the cup gently in her hands. "For not treating me like I'm just someone's sister."

"You're not," he said plainly.

Their eyes locked. And that was it. The shift. It wasn't loud. It wasn't obvious. But it was immediate. The air stretched tight. Like if either of them breathed too deep, it would snap.

She crossed her legs, lazily, the hem of her trousers sliding just enough to reveal the delicate chain around her ankle.

Toto's eyes flicked to it for half a second. Then back to her face. "You're enjoying this," he said.

"Enjoying what?"

"Being here. Watching me try not to stare."

She grinned, smug and slow. "That obvious, huh?"

"No," he said. "That intentional."

She laughed under her breath, leaning back into the sofa. "Well, you are doing a terrible job."

He tilted his head, studying her. "You're trouble."

"I've been called worse."

There was a pause. Then, with the smoothness of someone who was always in control, he lifted one hand and patted his knee. She looked at it. Then at him. Then back to it. He didn't move. Didn't elaborate. Just left it there, an invitation, a line she could choose to cross.

She raised one perfectly shaped brow. "I'll sit there..."

He waited.

"...if you increase Kimi's pay by ten percent."

Toto's lips twitched. "Ten?"

She nodded, sipping her coffee with faux innocence. "Just a humble request from a concerned sister."

He held her gaze. Unflinching. "I'll do fifteen," he said, voice low, "if you stay here for the full two hours."

Her smile was pure sin. She set her coffee on the table with slow precision. Pivoted. And then slid, gracefully, into his lap, her thighs draped over his, arms resting lightly on his shoulders like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Toto didn't move. Didn't flinch. But his hand came to rest on her waist. And stayed there. She leaned in, lips dangerously close to his ear, and whispered, "You drive a hard bargain, Wolff."

He smirked, one hand sliding just slightly lower, palm spread wide. "And you negotiate like someone who knows exactly what she's worth."

She met his eyes again. Up close, this time. Breath mingling. Nothing innocent left. "I know exactly what I'm worth," she said.

And Toto thought, not for the first time, that letting her into his world might just be the most reckless thing he's ever done.

But in that moment, with her on his lap, smiling like sin incarnate? He didn't care one bit.

The clock on the wall ticked once. The coffee had gone untouched for ten minutes. Forgotten. Cooling on the edge of the low table. Forgotten like everything else the moment she slid onto his lap, long legs draped over his thighs, shirt knotted just tight enough to tease, mouth parted like she was already half a sin into the next one.

But she didn't move. Not yet. And neither did he. Toto's hand rested lightly on her hip at first, firm, but still polite. Still respectable. That ended fast. Because now, without a word, his fingers began to slide.

Slow. Upward. Along the inside of her thigh. The linen of her trousers was soft. Loose enough to move. He found the seam. Found skin.

And still, still, he kept his eyes on her face. His palm moved higher. "Do you want this?" he asked. His voice was low. Not a whisper. A warning.

She inhaled slowly. Held his gaze. "Only if you can take control."

There was a pause. The kind of pause that split time into before and after. Toto's expression didn't shift. But his eyes darkened, like something ancient had clicked into place. "Good," he said. Then added, with quiet certainty, "Because I don't do it any other way."

And just like that, her breath caught. Because it wasn't a threat. Wasn't bravado. It was the quiet truth of a man who'd never asked for permission to lead. Who didn't flinch when handed power. Who wasn't afraid of what it meant to take someone apart and put them back together — carefully, deliberately, in hisimage.

His fingers slid further under the fabric of her trousers. Found bare skin, warm and soft, her thighs already shifting to let him in deeper. She let out a soft exhale. Her hand came up to his collar, thumb grazing the edge of the button like she could feel his pulse through the thread. "Then lead," she said.

And Toto smiled. Not because he won. Because she knew what she was offering. And she wanted him to take it.

She didn't even realise she was holding her breath until he moved her. Not rough. Not rushed. Just deliberate.

Toto's hands slid from her thigh to her hips, broad palms warm through the linen, thumbs grazing the ridges of her pelvis like he was feeling for pressure points. He tilted his head slightly, watching her, really watching, the way her lips parted, the way her lashes fluttered with anticipation.

Then he shifted forward in the seat, planting his feet more firmly. His hands guided her. Down.

Her breath stuttered in her chest as her clothed core pressed against the hard line of him through his tailored trousers. She could feel the heat, the shape, the promise of what he'd been holding back.

"Just like that," he murmured.

His voice was deeper now, honey-dark, the Austrian smoothness melting into something more guttural. His grip stayed steady, not forcing, not rushing, just controlling. A silent command written in the way his fingers curved and held.

"Take your time," Toto said. "You're going to stay here for a while."

Her hips twitched. He felt it. Smiled. "Grind," he said quietly.

And she obeyed. A slow roll, hips tilting forward, then back again, dragging herself across the rigid line of his cock with a quiet gasp in her throat. The friction was clothed, obscene, not nearly enough, but far too much. It sent a jolt straight up her spine.

Toto groaned under his breath. "There you go," he whispered, one hand sliding up her back to the knot of her shirt, tugging it tighter just to feel the tension across her chest. "Don't rush. Let me feel it."

She bit her lip and did it again. Another slow drag. Another roll of her hips. Her clit throbbing through the thin fabric. His cock pulsing underneath her.

Her breath came faster now, soft, shaky. Her thighs trembled.

Toto leaned in, lips grazing her jaw.c"Look at you," he muttered. "Grinding on my lap like you were meant to be here."

Her hands tightened on his shoulders. She tried to say something, a curse, maybe, or his name, but the words never made it past her throat.

His hand came up, cupped her jaw gently, forced her to face him. His eyes locked to hers, a piercing, impossibly dark look that made her stop moving.c"You want me to fuck you right here, don't you?" he said.

She nodded.

He shook his head once. "Say it."

"I want you to fuck me," she whispered. "Here. Now."

Toto exhaled, slow and sharp.

And thenche tightened his grip on her hips. Rocked her forward harder. Forced her to feel it, the heat, the friction, the pressure building between them like a spark waiting to catch.

"Keep grinding," he said. "You're not getting anything else until you've soaked through those pretty little trousers."

Her mouth fell open, body jolting forward with the next roll of her hips. He groaned again, this time louder, his cock flexing beneath her like it was trying to break free.

"God, you're already so fucking wet," he muttered, hand slipping beneath the hem of her shirt, fingers splaying across her stomach. "You feel that?"

She whimpered, nodding.

"Then keep going." So she did. Over and over, hips grinding, body trembling, breath catching on every pass.

And Toto? He didn't move. Didn't rut. Didn't fuck her yet. He just held her there. Let her unravel on top of him, undone by nothing but friction, pressure, and the kind of control most men couldn't begin to imagine.

His grip never wavered. His eyes never left hers. And when she finally came, shaking, gasping, hands clenched in his shirt, Toto smiled like he'd just won a war.

"You did well," he whispered, brushing her hair from her face. "And now I'm going to ruin you properly."

She was still trembling in his lap when he stood. No warning. No hesitation. Just the quiet shift of his body as he slid her off his thighs and placed her down on the carpeted floor between his legs like she was something precious, a thing to be handled, not touched casually.

And then he took her wrist. Not rough. Not soft. Owned.

He walked her to the desk with that same lethal calm he used on pit walls, the kind that made billionaires sit up straighter and world champions fall silent. And she followed like she'd been born to.

No fight. No fear. Just trust and hunger in equal measure.

The coffee mugs were still sitting at the edge of the desk. One empty. One forgotten. Toto brushed them aside with the back of his hand, not even looking.

Then he turned her. "Bend over," he said.

Her breath caught. Her thighs pressed together. She leaned forward slowly, hands flat on the surface, palms braced on the cool glass. Her ass pushed back just slightly, the hem of her trousers taut across the curve of it.

Toto stepped behind her. And for a moment, he did nothing. Just stood there. Breathing. Watching. Taking in the way she looked bent over his desk in the middle of his domain.

He dragged his hands over her hips. Up her spine. Down again. Pressed his palm to the small of her back and pushed. Lower. Deeper. Submissive.

He tugged at the knot of her shirt until it unraveled, the fabric falling open just enough to expose the smooth line of her back. And then he undid her trousers. Slow. Torturous. Watching the way her breath shook with each inch of zipper. He slid them down to her knees, then paused.

No underwear. Toto exhaled through his nose like he'd just been dared. "You planned this," he said.

She didn't answer.

He smacked her ass once, open palm, sharp and mean. She gasped, fingers gripping the desk. "I asked you a question."

"I didn't plan anything," she said, breathless.

"Liar," he muttered, kneeling behind her.

She whimpered when his hands spread her open, thumbs digging into the soft curve of her thighs, spreading her slick folds, exposing just how fucking wet she was from nothing but grinding on his lap like a spoiled little thing desperate for praise.

He leaned in, just enough for his breath to ghost over her. "Dripping," he muttered. "You came like this, didn't you?"

She moaned softly. "Yes."

"Good." He stood again, unbuckled his belt with one hand, letting the sound echo through the room. Unzipped. Freed his cock, already hard, already thick, already throbbing for her.

She looked back over her shoulder just as he lined up. Toto stared at her, bent over his desk, shirt open, trousers at her knees, and smiled like a man about to do something awful.

Then he slid in. Slowly. So slow it hurt. She cried out, fingers clawing the desk, hips twitching as he sank into her inch by fucking inch. He filled her completely, deeper than she could take, but not nearly enough.

"Shh," he whispered. "Take it."

And then he started to move. Not fast. Brutal. Each thrust was slow and deliberate, dragging all the way out before slamming back in so hard the desk creaked beneath her. His hands stayed tight on her hips, controlling every motion, every noise, every ragged breath that tore from her throat.

"You feel that?" he growled.

She nodded, shaking.

He slapped her ass again, harder. "Use your words."

"Yes-fuck-yes, I feel it."

"You feel me."

"Yes."

"Because this pussy is mine now."

She moaned so loud it echoed off the glass. Toto leaned over her, body pressed to her back, cock still pounding into her in that perfect, devastating rhythm. "Keep your hands where they are," he whispered against her ear. "And don't you fucking dare come until I say so."

Her thighs shook. Her eyes blurred. Her mind went blank except for him. His name. His cock. His voice. And the way he bent her over the desk like he'd been waiting years for this.

He didn't fuck her like she was a girl he was trying to seduce. He fucked her like she belonged to him. And she'd never wanted anything more.

Her fingers were slipping. Sweat-slicked palms braced on the edge of Toto's desk, legs trembling, vision blurred, she could barely breathe, let alone think. He was still fucking her. Still slow. Still brutal. Each thrust carved into her spine, every drag of his cock hitting something deep, perfect, obscene. Her shirt was falling off one shoulder, mouth open and silent, like even her moans had been stolen from her.

But Toto? He was calm. Measured. Driving into her like he had all the time in the world and no fucking patience left for anything else.

Then, just when she felt herself spiraling again, that second orgasm building like heat under her ribs, he stopped. Pulled out. Her knees buckled. She gasped, whimpering at the sudden emptiness.

Then hands. Big, rough, commanding. Under her arms. Around her back. Lifting her. He turned her like she weighed nothing.

Laid her flat on his desk, back against the cool surface, legs draped open. Her trousers were still bunched at her knees, shirt hanging open, hair messy and mouth wrecked. Toto stood between her thighs, towering. And then he pushed back in, one hard, devastating thrust, making her cry out as her body stretched wide around him again.

But this time? He held her face. One hand cradled her jaw. Thumb at her cheekbone. Fingers threaded in her hair. "Eyes on me," he said.

She blinked, barely able to focus.

"I said look at me."

Her eyes snapped to his.

He rolled his hips forward. Harder. Deeper. "Good girl."

Her whole body shook. The tension snapped like elastic, her orgasm ripped through her without warning, no build-up this time, just white-hot pleasure detonating behind her eyes as she screamed, back arching off the desk, hands grabbing at his shoulders.

"Keep looking," Toto growled.

She did. Somehow. Watched him the whole time, the way his mouth twitched, the way his jaw clenched, how he watched her come like it was a reward he'd earned. "Fuck," he muttered, fucking into her harder now, chasing it.

He didn't slow down. Didn't pause to let her recover. Just kept driving into her, hand on her throat now, pressure just enough to ground her while his other hand gripped her thigh and pulled her leg up over his hip for more depth.

She gasped. Sobbed. Felt it building again. "Toto-fuck-I can't-"

"Yes you can," he snarled. "You will."

His cock hit deeper now. His control was cracking. And she loved it. Every part of her burned. Her nerves felt frayed, her pussy raw and soaked and stretched around him, and still  he didn't stop.

"Come for me again," he growled, voice breaking. "Let me feel you fall apart one more time."

And she did. Her second orgasm hit like a fucking collapse, body convulsing, cunt clenching around him in spasms so tight he groaned, mouth falling open as his rhythm stuttered. He slammed in one last time. And came. With a grunt, low and deep, cock twitching inside her, hips jerking as he emptied himself into her like he needed to mark her.

They stayed like that. Pressed together. Breathing hard. His body over hers, hands still braced on either side of the desk. She blinked up at him. He looked down.

"You're staying the full two hours," he said, voice ruined and hoarse.

She smiled, dazed, fucked-out, glowing. "I'll stay," she whispered. "But you're giving him twenty percent now."

Toto laughed, breathless and fucked and already planning how to ruin her again. The only sound for a full minute was breathing. Slow. Quiet. The kind that settles between two people like ash after fire.

Her chest still rose in tiny, uneven pulls of air, body splayed across the glass desk like the aftershock hadn't worn off. Her thighs twitched once, involuntary. The skin of her stomach shivered where the cool air kissed it. Her shirt hung loose, limp and open, one button still somehow done near the collarbone.

Toto's hands hadn't left her yet. Not fully. One slid softly up her side now, tracing the dip of her waist before he exhaled, slow, through his nose and finally pulled out of her. She whimpered quietly. Not from pain. From loss.

He stepped back, silent. Reached for a napkin from the bar cart and gently wiped between her legs, careful but firm. Then leaned forward to press a kiss to her inner thigh. Just once. Just enough to undo her all over again.

She watched him. No one had ever fucked her like that. And no one had ever cleaned her like this. He moved with efficiency, but with reverence. Like she was both an art piece and a threat. And then he was standing again, tucking himself back into his trousers, refastening his belt with the kind of calm that made her want to crawl back onto his lap and undo all that control just to hear him break again.

But instead she sat up, groaning softly, legs swinging off the desk. Toto walked to the sofa and wordlessly retrieved her trousers from the floor. Walked back. Handed them to her. The smirk on his lips almost looked sweet now. 

"Thanks," she murmured, voice raspy.

"You're welcome," he said, eyes flicking to the mess between her thighs. "I had motivation."

She laughed softly, shaking her head as she slid her trousers up. She didn't bother with her shirt, just pulled it tight and knotted it again, now slightly crooked, the fabric warm with her own skin. She rolled the sleeves to her elbows, hair still messy, makeup slightly smudged.

Toto buttoned the second-to-top button on his shirt. She watched his fingers move. Efficient. Elegant. And then he stepped forward again. Cupped her face. Kissed her forehead. Fuck. It was worse than all the fucking. It was tender. He held his lips there for two seconds longer than he needed to. Then pulled back, motioned toward the sofa. "Come."

She followed without a word. They settled into the same corners of the couch they'd started in an hour earlier, only now the air was heavier. Warmer. The silence wasn't loaded anymore. Just full.

She reached for her coffee. It was lukewarm. Didn't matter. Toto took a sip of his and looked over the rim at her. Quietly watching. Calculating. And then he asked. "So," he said. "Tell me about yourself."

She blinked, half-smiling. "You've had me bent over your desk and now you want to talk?"

"Yes."

Her brow lifted. "Why?"

"Because I already know your body," he said, calm. "Now I want to know the rest."

She didn't look away. Toto leaned back slightly, one arm across the top of the couch. His eyes were soft now, but no less intent. "What do you do when you're not ruining my drivers' blood pressure?" he added.

She laughed quietly. "Documentary film. Mostly small projects. I shoot some stills too, if the mood hits. Architecture. Urban movement. I did a series last year on abandoned opera houses across Eastern Europe."

He nodded once, genuinely interested. "Where'd you study?"

"Florence first. Then London. I left Milan after a year, couldn't handle the people."

"I believe that," he said. "Too many mirrors."

"Exactly."

He sipped again. "You travel a lot?"

"Not recently. Kimi keeps me tethered."

"You like that?"

"Yeah. He grounds me." She glanced down at her cup. "I'm not always great at... staying still."

Toto tilted his head. "You're good at staying present."

She looked up.

"You were present with me," he added. "Fully."

"Is that rare for you?"

"Yes."

The quiet sat between them again, this time gentler. Familiar. She tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. He watched her do it. "You're not what I expected," he said.

She smiled. "What were you expecting?"

"Something more polished. Less sharp. Less dangerous."

"And now?"

"I'm aware," Toto said, setting his cup down slowly, "that I'm in a lot of trouble."

She grinned. "Then you'd better keep me close."

He nodded once. "That's the plan."

And neither of them said another word for a long, long time. Because in that quiet, under the weight of what they'd just started, they already knew: The next time wouldn't be behind a locked office door. The next time? It wouldn't end.

*

She wasn't there. And it was honestly more distracting. No citrus and camera bag, no glint of gold chain, no lingering scent in the hallway that made people pause without knowing why. No gravity-shifting smirks. No chaos walking in heels.

The factory had returned to normal, or at least, it was trying to. But the silence her absence left behind was suspiciously... loud. Especially in Toto Wolff's glass-walled office, where the air conditioning hummed, filtered light poured in, and the three drivers seated across from him tried to act like this was just another post-sim meeting.

It wasn't.

Lewis sat with his ankle crossed over his knee, nodding thoughtfully as Toto went through sponsor logistics. George was flipping a pen between his fingers like he wasn't still processing what he saw the day before. And Kimi, shoulders stiff, hands clasped in his lap, stared hard at the Mercedes logo stitched into the centre of Toto's carpet like it might give him answers.

"-so the Shell dinner will be in Bahrain after race one," Toto was saying, tapping on his tablet. "Lewis, your speaking slot is confirmed. George, you'll handle the PR Q&A. Kimi, you'll be introduced at the private partners' brunch. No media, just senior board. I'll prep you myself."

"Got it," Kimi said, quietly.

Toto didn't miss the tension in his voice. Lewis didn't either. George definitely didn't. But no one said anything. Not until Toto reached into the drawer beside him and pulled out a single folder, clean, thick cardstock, nothing written on the outside. He stood. Walked around the desk without a word. And handed it directly to Kimi.

The teenager blinked, startled, then took it and opened it slowly. His contract. But not the one he'd signed. This one was different. Base salary, adjusted. Bonuses, increased. Branding rights, sweetened. Appearance fees, doubled.

George leaned in. Lewis tilted his head.

Kimi frowned, flipping to the final page, scanning the figures. "...Wait," he said. "This isn't the original deal."

"No," Toto said simply.

"This is... this is better."

"Yes."

Kimi looked up. "Why?"

Toto folded his arms across his chest. "You can thank your sister."

Boom. Lewis froze, eyes snapping to Kimi. George's pen dropped right out of his hand and clattered to the floor.

Kimi's whole soul left his body. "You're-you're joking," he said, voice high and desperate. "Please tell me you're joking."

Toto raised one eyebrow. "Do I look like I joke about money?"

Kimi stared at the contract like it had just slapped him. "You bumped my base by fifteen percent because she what?"

"I bumped it by twenty," Toto said calmly. "Because she earned it."

George's mouth opened. Lewis's hand clapped over his own like he was physically holding in a scream.

"Toto-" Kimi gasped, half-standing out of his chair. "That's literally-I didn't ask her to do that!"

"I know."

"I told her not to!"

"I know that too."

Kimi pressed the contract to his forehead. "I want to die."

"You're welcome," Toto said, returning to his chair like nothing had happened.

Lewis finally spoke, voice a slow tease. "So just to clarify... she actually negotiated that raise."

"She proposed ten," Toto said. "I offered fifteen."

"She countered with twenty," George breathed, stunned. "And you accepted."

"Correct."

George turned to Kimi, blinking. "Mate. Your sister's better at this than we are."

Kimi slumped forward onto the desk. "She's not supposed to be here."

"She's not even here now," Lewis muttered. "And she's still getting shit done."

Toto smiled. Not smug, satisfied.

Kimi groaned. "You're sleeping with her, aren't you?"

Toto didn't answer. Which was the answer.

George looked like he'd seen God. "I thought yesterday was just flirtation. Like, elite-level, espresso-and-eye-fucking type flirting, but still, flirting."

Lewis leaned back, nodding to himself. "And you're still alive. Barely. That's impressive."

Kimi covered his face. "I want to go home."

"She said she'd stay the two hours," Toto added casually. "She stayed longer."

George gasped. Lewis wheeze-laughed into his hoodie sleeve.

Kimi stood up, ready to launch himself out the nearest window. "I am not accepting this," he said, shoving the folder back toward Toto.

"You already signed the first one," Toto said, entirely unfazed. "You don't have to sign this one. I'll honour it anyway."

Kimi froze.

George blinked. "Wait, seriously?"

Toto nodded.

"Why?" Kimi asked, half-horrified, half-suspicious.

Toto finally looked up from his desk. "Because she asked me to take care of you," he said softly. "And I said I would."

And just like that, all three of them shut the fuck up. Because for all the chaos, for all the flirting and smirking and ridiculous tension, that was the line that landed hard. That one cut through everything else. Kimi didn't say anything. Just sat slowly. Opened the folder again. George was still blinking in disbelief. Lewis took another sip of his coffee and muttered, "She's gonna own this entire sport one day."

And no one disagreed.

[what-username-where]

I still have never started a relationship without being asked out BY someone, and then not believing them until they repeatedly tell me that yes they ARE actually serious

and then I spend the entire time thinking oh god oh fuck when is the other shoe gonna drop when are they gonna start laughing at me for being so gullible to believe they actually liked me and reveal this was all an elaborate prank the entire time or that they just found me useful enough to put up with and play along so I'd keep doing things for them

Which unfortunately the only people who ever asked me out were a pedo, an entitled manipulative self centered emotional abuser, and a wildly out of control mentally ill asshole

All of whom I got incredibly attached to and planned on marrying and building my entire life around because at least having someone to indulge my highly romantic sappy touchy self would be better than just yearning from the sidelines my whole life and watching other people get things I'd dreamed about being able to have but never thought would actually be possible for me

because there was something innately wrong with me that other people saw but I didn't and no matter how hard I tried I couldn't fix it or even identify the problem

so I had to give up everything I possibly could give in order to make myself worth putting up with for other people and if I didn't I would spend the rest of my life isolated and alone because no one would want to be around me unless I was of sufficient benefit and service to them

Needless to say none of my exes helped that feeling at all

I still struggle deeply with it and have slowly come to accept that my friends are here because they genuinely enjoy me

but I still have the intense problems around romance and romantic relationships and feeling like the only way I'll ever have something close to what I want is by doing it myself quite literally and relying on my system for it

which while being amazing and wonderful and I love my system so much it still has some things that are physically impossible to do and thus leaves me with a longing just the same, whether that's a longing for another body for them to inhabit or longing for another person to be romantically interested in me both of which feel equally impossible

because no other person could possibly want to be anything romantic with me without either not knowing what they're getting into and later wanting to back out or wanting to take advantage of me because they know I'll stick around serving them a feast if they toss a breadcrumb my way once in a while

Which no amount of logic and comforting and repeating positive phrases and reassuring myself "I don't need a romantic relationship to be fulfilled as a person and that's a really toxic attitude to have" has ever really made go away despite my best efforts and years of therapy both professional and self guided

Man if you did that bullshit as a kid where you fake asked someone out to embarrass them or said your friend liked them I hope that shit haunts you somewhere inside now. I hope you know that never leaves the person you did that too. I've been out of school for 8 blessed fucking years and I still do not believe people when they say they like me or are attracted to me. Doing that shit straight up makes you a bad person. You completely destroy someone's ability to perceive themselves as loveable.

[rollwithdicey]

Date Everything NSFW Headcanons

I've been thinking of a LOT of things since the game out and I just wanted to share some thoughts. I also haven't played a whole lot yet so I don't know a lot of the characters that well yet so I'll definitely do a part 2

Mostly female/femme reader stuff

Eddie and Volt

2 bad bitches at the SAME👏DAMN👏TIME👏

For the most part these 2 will fuck you together but there are days when they get you to themselves

Someone else said that Volt would be into tying you up or you tying him up and I can definitely see it

He'll definitely make you use your words to tell him what you what him to do, and teases you about how shy/eager you are

Eddie on the other hand tends to manhandle you a bit more, definitely loves marking you too

Surprisingly loud and groans lot when he's at it, (sometimes whimpers....who said that??)

He'll always start a little rough depending on the situation but the further you go, the more he softens up

He's not good with his emotions but he does care for you a lot and he fucks you like he's desperate, like he's scared of loosing you

He'll never admit it but he secretly loves it when you praise him

Also loves it if you're loud, just tell him how good he makes you feel

Together headcanons

I feel like Volt likes watching you and Eddie go at it in the beginning before joining himself

Volt definitely talks you through it if you're taking both of them at the same time

They're both definitely into overstimulation, you're not going anywhere until they're both done with you

They'll explore every inch of you and take notes over what makes you the loudest

I feel like they'd definitely be down to try anything new with you if you brought it up

Their foreplay would definitely be PEAK 👌

They know what gets you going and they get off on how wet they can make you

The combination of you being tied up by Volt and Eddie manhandling you is their personal fav

Might also be into blindfold and light choking if you were ok with jt

When everything's done their aftercare is the best, they'll clean you up and cuddle with you and bring you anything you need the rest of the night

Chance

Pleasure Dom 100%

He's the sweetest person ever and that definitely translates into the bedroom

He'll do almost anything you ask if it helps make you feel good

Obvi he'll be into some roleplaying in the bedroom, he'll do almost anything if you enjoy a certain scenario

Also probably into light overstimulation

He loves to feel you shaking and desperate for him

L o v e s when you say his name, or just loud in general cuz he loves knowing how good he makes you feel

Mostly vanilla for the most part, he just wants to pleasure you organically, but willing to try almost anything you might be into within reason

His aftercare too is always the BEST, he's literally there to serve you and bring you anything you need, you wouldn't even need to walk he'll just carry you

Best after sex cuddles as well, he just wants you to be comfortable and warm

Lyric

Everyone is sleeping on my man for real 😤

He doesn't act like it but he's secretly a horndog, like he's got the knowledge of every book and you really think he wouldn't know a thing or 2?

Absolutely into Sensory deprivation

With him being a genie I have a headcanon that he can summon and levitate certain things, but it only applies to books and feathers

L o v e s using feathers on you, whether it's playful tickling or you blindfolded and tied up he's using them on you

Will absolutely take his time with you until you're begging him to touch you

This might sound weird but because he's a genie I don't think he actually has a....uh....pp? But when he's realized and gets his human form he's definitely fucking you hard the second he gets the chance

Would love to read dirty romance books to you and watch your reaction every time to see what gets you going

Definitely asks if you can recreate different scenes from his favorite romance books

Super romantic always, if you're not as experienced he'll definitely go slow and be understanding, making sure you feel comfortable and have the best experience

Tony

I haven't done his whole story read but I'll add some more here when I finish it

He believes he's hot shit, he's so smooth with his words you genuinely can't help but lean into it

Experience on the other hand, he'll never admit it but sometimes doesn't always know what he's doing and might need a little guidance

But he'll also never admit he also loves praise and hearing how good he makes you feel, definitely inflated his ego more than it already is

He thinks he's good with his hands, but this is where he might need that little bit of guidance

He's into hair pulling, he loves just having a solid grip on you no matter what, but tries hard not to actually hurt you cuz he thinks it kills the mood

He definitely wasn't lying when he said he has a massive schlong, but don't tell him that you doubted him

Loves trying different positions with you, and his stamina lasts a long time so be prepared to be in it for awhile

Also a sucker for any kind of hand job or blow job, definitely a favorite for him and he'll absolutely talk you through it and tell you how he likes it

Probably doesn't understand the concept of aftercare so you might have to teach him, but once he gets it he's surprisingly caring because he wants you to enjoy your time with him

Dorian

I haven't progressed a lot in his story either but I'll try my best

He knows he's hot and he knows you think he's hot and he's A L L over it

Into light voyeurism/exhibitionism, he'll love it if you walk in on him pleasuring himself and encourages you to stay and watch, and also loves seeing you touch yourself in front of him

Spoiler if you haven't unlocked Keith yet but after hearing how Keith really felt about Dorian you try your best to be better than that

You love telling Dorian how good he makes you feel, and he knows he's good at what he does

Definitely loves seeing you on top from time to time, he wants you to ride him

Also please sit on this man's face, you won't regret it

100% uses his voice against you, loves to whisper in your ear or surprise you from behind just to rile you up

He'll be anything you want him to be from rough to soft

Loves taking care of you afterwards too, he'll never disappoint with his aftercare, and always has a habit of telling you he loves you afterwards

[neilsbeloved]

company of four

summary: your world stops the moment clark tells you he’s finally introducing you to his friends, not because you want to stay hidden as his mysterious girlfriend, but because of your distasteful past encounters with his friends. (based on this request!)

pairing: clark kent x fem!popular!reader!

tags: fluff / mentions of past bullying / clark being whipped / hidden relationships / first meetings / uses y/n (like twice)

Clark, who was lying down on his bed with arm stretched behind his head, has been watching you try on a gazillion combinations of tops, pants, and earrings for the past hour.

When he had told you that his friends had been wanting to see this mysterious girlfriend he's been hinting on for weeks, you were quite hesitant to say the least.

Actually—you were very hesitant.

Not only were you one of the most popular students in Smallville High, but you didn't exactly have the cleanest track record when it comes to your relationship with people. Clark and his friends—Chloe and Pete—included.

Now, you're still on your fifth pair of earrings. Your ears all red and itchy already.

"You're meeting my friends, not some editor at a fashion magazine." Clark throws a football up in the air, catching it just in time with you turning around.

"Clark," you say sternly, shooting him a look. "Circle one or triangle?"

He straightens up, muttering a quiet apology before answering: "Circle. Chloe likes circles."

You nod, removing the dangling triangle earring on your left ear before replacing it with the circle one. You grab your hair brush from Clark's cabinet, running it through your hair as you walked to the other side of the room in a rush.

"For the bag—which one do you think Pete'd dig?"

"Are you their girlfriend or mine?" Clark jokes, hoping to see even a small smile on your face. He quiets down when you glare at him once more. "Sorry, the brown one."

You throw Clark the burgundy one, moving your regular items from your everyday bag to the brown one he chose.

Clark stands up from the bed, groaning softly as he stretches his back.

"Look, babe, they've been waiting to meet you for over a month now. I'm more than sure they'll be happy to meet you whether or not you're wearing Chloe's favorite color or you know Pete's favorite comic book." He rests his head on your shoulder, hugging you from the back as he rocks you side to side.

You sigh, glancing at him over your shoulder. His nose bumping with yours. "Clark, that's before they find out that your girlfriend's one of the people that were bullying them for years."

"Oh please, you never really wanted to be involved with those people. You were just…" Clark purses his lips, trying to think of the best word. "…misguided, okay? You're not anymore, so you could stop worrying about that and just relax, y'know?"

"I had Chloe be removed as the Torch editor for a whole school year," you start, "Pete got injured in his shin because my friends found it funny to trip him while playing basketball," you add again, Clark cringing at the memory.

You exhale defeatedly, pulling away from Clark to sit on the edge of the bed. Massaging your own temples to try and relieve some of the stress.

Clark keeps a determined look. Taking a seat beside you before he places an arm around your shoulder. The warmth of his body immediately making you melt into him.

"I know you've done things you aren't proud of, things you don't even want to remember… but you can't just avoid those you've wronged forever," Clark pulls you close, nuzzling his face in your hair. "Sooner or later you're gonna have to actually speak to those people and say sorry."

"And if they don't accept my apology, what then? Clark, I'm not gonna let you choose between me and your friends." You snap at him.

Clark looks at you with a surprised look, not expecting you to lose your temper. When you notice what just happened, your features soften, mumbling a continuous apology as you looked at your hands on your lap.

He shushes you, taking your hands in his as he intertwines both of your fingers together. "Who said I had to?"

"If there's one thing I know about my friends, it's that they're not the kind of people you think they are." Clark looks into your eyes with a tenderness you've grown to love about him. "They know how to forgive, and they know how to understand people."

A small smile comes onto your lips as he kisses your forehead, tightening his hold on your hands. "Now stop worrying about my friends and focus on getting ready. I don't think I can last thirty more minutes helping you choose the color lipstick you should wear."

His face shines when he hears a laugh come out of you, willingly letting you go as you stand up to resume getting ready in the corner—close by the window, so you had some natural light whenever you put on make-up—Clark had cleared out just for you.

You smirk at him, teasing and lighthearted, holding out the bullet lipstick you keep in your bag. "Don't worry, Clark, I don't have blue lipstick for you to choose anyway."

The jitters gnaw at you the faster you and Clark arrive at the Talon.

Clark kept his hand in yours, squeezing it every now and then as a sort of comfort. When you see the Talon's signage appear into view, you tense up indefinitely.

"We're here," he announces, parking on the curb faster than you expected. "Ready to meet them?"

You shake your head as an answer but Clark only laughs at you. He exits the car, running over to your side to help you get down from the truck. One of the chivalrous things Clark does that you've gotten used to.

The two of you stand outside the Talon's doors, a considerable amount of distance between the two of you.

Clark calls your name, stopping you right before you can come inside the cafe. "Are we coming in as a couple or as chemistry partners—babe, come closer," Clark pulls you to his side with a scoff.

"Clark." You glare at him, biting back the complaint that tries to surface. "Don't get pushy."

He ignores your warning, shamelessly slipping his hand into yours as he pushes open the doors, immediately getting overwhelmed by the dozens of people inside of the Talon.

Your eyes quickly latch onto two of Clark's friends sitting around a circle table, Chloe and Pete having their own respective beverage as they conversed—or argued—with each other comfortably.

Each step you took felt like a step towards suffocating yourself. Feeling the air inside the Talon barely enough for everyone inside of it.

You clench your jaw, trying your best to keep calm despite the percussions pounding inside of you. Clark kept a smile on his face, unaware of the internal dilemma you're having.

When you finally reach their table, Clark yells out their name. Both Chloe and Pete turning to your direction with a smile, only for it to drop the moment their eyes drop to your interlaced hands.

You gulp. Unable to speak.

Clark opens up with a normal hey, giving them both a side hug before gesturing towards you. The way your name slips off of his mouth making you cringe.

"This is…" Your name rolls off of his tongue in a way that makes you cringe uncharacteristically. "And she's my girlfriend."  Clark turns to you with a smile, wide enough to show everyone his sharp canines.

An uneasy silence settles over the four of you—this time, even Clark isn't safe from it.

This is the worst experience ever you think to yourself as you start brainstorming the quickest way to just fall on the floor unconscious.

By the time you've thought about five ways, you hear someone speak.

"Is this some silly prank? I'm sure I vividly remember you and your group of highschool hotshots doing everything you can to make all of our lives a living hell?" Chloe, being the ever-so upfront member of the trio, says in one breath.

Your jaw drops. Out of all of the things his friends can bring up to you, that one was something you didn't expect.

You try your best to speak up—to apologize for it, but Chloe beats you to it. Again.

"I'm just kidding," she laughs loudly, her eyes crinkling into crescent moons as all of you let out the breath you were all unknowingly holding. "It's nice to finally meet you, Y/N."

You quickly take her hand and shake it, a surprised huff leaving your lips as Pete shakes your hand as well.

Clark looks at the three of you with a proud smile, pulling out a chair for the both of you once the introductions ended.

Before the conversation between the four of you even started, you apologized first. Showing them the raw and genuine side that you had to yourself; apologizing for everything that you and your friends had done to them since grade school.

Clark squeezed your hand from underneath the table, gazing at you affectionately as you began engaging his friends in an all out conversation about something niche.

The moment a Talon staff placed two extra glasses of mocha cappuccinos, another member of Clark’s circle is introduced. This time, someone you’re partially close with already.

“You’re with Clark?” Lana’s voice raises, eyebrows shooting up in surprise.

Clark cuts in, “Lana, this is Y/N, my girlfriend.”

The brunette looks to Chloe and Pete, both of them looking at you consolingly. You didn’t expect another round of awkward silence to happen but it does, and maybe you should’ve expected this one the moment Clark told you he’s taking you to the Talon.

After some time of you waiting for Lana to speak, she finally does. “It’s good to see Clark finally happy.”

“Oh,” you turn to Clark, slightly growing confused at the entire situation. “I, uhm—“

“She makes me very happy, Lana,” Clark says with a tone of finality, placing an arm on your shoulder. “Hopefully, I make her happy too.”

Lana smiles, nodding as she excuses herself. A loud huff coming from Chloe when she finally notices your earrings—though you know it was only to get rid of the thorny situation.

A compliment left her lips as she stared at it with fascination, the genuineness in her voice making you smile. Pete follows up with a compliment too, this time about your bag—you're practically glowing with happiness.

Clark throws you a look, catching your eye as that smug little smile on his face tells you that he's soaking up every compliment you got thanks to his brilliant choices.

As it turns out, meeting his friends wasn't as scary as you thought it'd be. Or maybe that's only because they aren't what you're used to.

Nevertheless, it made you feel very much at home; sipping coffee at the Talon, your boyfriend's hand in yours, enjoying everyone's company.

likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated! xoxo

[forgottenwriter]

''Howlers'' Werewolf variant which uses their loud howls to compensate for diminished sight. Suspected to be the product of vampire cross-breeding at some point, as they combine werewolf and vampire traits. Most notably, they are reluctant to enter dwellings when not invited explicitly (but still can if pushed.)

Attempts to discern whether they are able to sustain themselves on a diet of blood alone have proven futile as they are enthusiastic eaters.

Hunters should be aware of their signature attack; they can focus their howls into an amplified sonic blast which is known to cause intense internal damage and organ failure in the unprepared.

''Night Suckers'' Originally thought to be a regional vampire variant, they were later discovered to be an off-shot of the same general family. Unlike vampires, Night Suckers are not associated with wealth or influence, as they typically scorn such things. They are highly intelligent, but posses a non-human mindset and goal-system.

It is said, unlike a vampire who was once a human, a Night Sucker was never anything but what they are now. They have incredible strength and speed, and are able to engage equally even with ancient vampires, though, they are surprisingly passive unlike their aristocratic cousins.

Night Suckers do not require blood to sustain themselves, but instead siphon the anima - the life essence - of the living while they sleep. This can be fatal if suffered for a prolonged period, but Night Suckers will often vary their targets to prevent the arousal of suspicion. In fact, they are even known to take a liking to certain families whom they feed upon, and act in their best interests. In one particularly notable tale, a Night Sucker rescued a man who had been captured by slavers, and was later identified to have been feeding on that family for three generations.

Families hunted by Night Suckers in this way sometimes choose not to get rid of them, as the Night Sucker will typically not cause fatality, and they consider a few nights of sleeplessness a month to be well worth an immortal, undying protector.

''Nasty Little Flying Freak'' It knows what it did.

can u imagine if other pieces of media were as scared of calling their monsters what they are as zombie media is about calling zombies zombies

[sunarinio]

down the aisle

rintarou suna x reader

grocery run turned proposal

you pushed the trolley in front of you while suna followed behind, humming to himself as he looked around the aisle. you knew he was about to get distracted so you sped up, the trolley zooming past shelves of chips, biscuits and protein bars.

“hey, slow down,” suna complained as he jogged to catch up with you.

“no, thanks,” you snapped.

he sighed, “you’re still mad about that?”

you stopped in your tracks and jabbed an accusing finger to his chest. “maybe if your annoying ass didn’t get distracted, we wouldn’t have had to make two supermarket trips.”

you were right. this was your second trip to the supermarket in three hours. the two of you first came in at 10 AM sharp for your weekly groceries, as was the sunday ritual. suna, however, ended up getting distracted every ten minutes by the new collaboration of kinder joy with his favourite series. and that’s how you ended up with twenty kinder joys in your cart.

“i think we should get a couple more,” he kept repeating every now and then, concerned about his chances of getting the character he wanted. what a gambler, you thought, but didn’t mind his eccentricities until-

“rin, you idiot!”

he was immediately by your side. you were back home, putting away groceries when you noticed something missing.

“you got neither the handwash nor the room freshener i asked you to!” you scowled at him, “it was right next to your kinder joy aisle!”

“oops~” was all he said.

so here you were, on your second trip to the supermarket. you purposely had not let him handle the trolley.

“i told you we could just get the handwash at a local store. you-”

“no. it is cheaper here in bulk.” you jabbed your finger into his chest again as if to prove your point.

“fine, fine,” he held his hands up in surrender, “i won’t get distracted this time. promise.”

he walked beside you obediently, calling out names of household items and asking whether you needed anything more than what you came here for.

“what’s could be in this anyway? i haven’t opened it yet,” he pulled out a kinder joy which he had pocketed just before leaving the apartment again. a little something to soothe your wrath.

“get that thing out of my face,” you grumbled immediately.

“not even the chocolate?”

“you’ve ruined these for me, rin”

“you’re being dramatic”

he opened the package and peeled off the cover for the toy inside. you couldn’t help but peer in curiously.

“a ring…?” suna tilted his head to the side. then something clicked, “oh it’s the one he uses to save his village…meh, not that good of a find”

“it’s pretty though...” you comment, looking down at the ring before meeting his gaze.

suna stares at you. then he looks around. no one is in the aisle. he smirks.

“what-”

suna gets down on one knee. he takes your hand in his while you put a hand over your mouth to not burst out laughing.

“my dear y/n. i sincerely apologize for what happened today and i will put in my best efforts for the upcoming grocery runs. they bring immense joy to me and i hope you wish to continue these with me- forever,” he looks up at you expectantly.

“y-yes,” you manage to say between giggles. you’re blushing, embarrassed of being caught in the ridiculous situation, “i forgive you”

he inserts the ring onto your finger with a smile before standing up and wrapping an arm around your shoulder.

“who’s gonna help you carry the bags anyway, if you stop bringing me to grocery runs?” he chuckles, leading you down the aisle.

“i can carry them myself,” you huff, fiddling with the ring. the weight of it felt good, even if it was plastic.

“nah, i’ll carry all the bags, you just focus on carrying the ring,” suna smiled, ruffling your hair with the hand that was not pushing the trolley.

ah yes, the trolley duty had been smoothly shifted to him.

[everythingisamazing]

Here’s a "fun" analysis of why Jayce’s first speech in the astral plane doesn’t work — and why so many Jayces before him have failed to convince their partner: Viktor doesn’t care about being saved for his own sake. And as painful as it is to admit: he doesn’t care about being loved for his imperfections.

Why do I believe this? Because the show repeatedly emphasizes what Viktor does care about — across both seasons. And it all begins with one of the very first lines we ever hear from him, as a child in the flashback:

"Can I help?"

Later, when Viktor speaks to Heimerdinger about his impending death, what is his main concern? Not that he’s dying — but that he hasn’t done enough. That he’s only achieved figments.

When he and Jayce experiment with the Hexcore and the plants, it's Jayce who focuses on finding a cure for Viktor. Viktor, once again, talks about saving others.

I don’t even think his decision to experiment on himself with the Hexcore was ever truly about saving his own life — but rather about buying more time. Time to achieve what he hoped Hextech could accomplish for the world.

And while Viktor’s “death” technically happens in Season 1, it’s really his arc in Season 2 that made me read it this way: Because despite everything that changes — from who he is at the beginning of the series to the moment he creates the commune — one thing doesn’t change: His utter disregard for his own well-being in the pursuit of helping others.

From the very first moment we see him use his powers, the show makes it clear: it comes at a cost. His attempt to heal ending with his legs shaking and him falling to his knees.

Singed, when he visits the commune, even talks to Viktor about his "decline," as he calls it — how his power is diminishing with every use. (Viktor answering this by asking whether he believes in fate is... interesting, but that’ll be an analysis for another time.) And what does Viktor do? He pretty much ignores him and keeps trying — which is no different from what S1 Viktor would have done. So, to summarize: I feel like Viktor sees his own survival as a means to an end — as if he is merely a vessel for saving others, not a person worth saving himself. His body, not as something imperfect yet beautiful (as Jayce calls it), but as an inconvenience — something that gets in the way of achieving meaningful change.

Now, I can’t tell you why Viktor sees himself that way — the show doesn’t explain it, because, as mentioned above, he already holds this mindset when we first meet him as a child. To play armchair psychologist, I’d assume it has something to do with his loneliness, and how helping others through his mind feels like the one meaningful way he can connect with them.

And how does his relationship with Jayce play into all this? Jayce, as stated by the writers, connects Viktor to his humanity. In this reading, I’d say: Jayce is the one thing Viktor can’t help but be selfish about. Because when Mage Viktor saves Jayce as a child, he likely does more harm than good in many timelines. And yet — he does it anyway.

There’s no time in the show for Viktor to fully work through this issue. At best, he might have started to realize, by the end, how this approach caused more harm than good. But I don’t think he’s anywhere near caring for himself. That’s why Jayce’s "You always wanted to cure what you thought were weaknesses" speech “fails” — while "Because I promised you" works. I hope I’m not getting too psychological here, but I feel like for someone who’s so committed to helping others, honoring a promise is far easier for Viktor to understand than the concept of self-love.

It might even be a bit of a callback to when Sky warns him about trying to save Vander — and Viktor replies, "He is worth the risk." I think that’s a sentiment Viktor understands deeply. And he sees it reflected back at him through Jayce in that final moment. He can empathize with Jayce’s need to do right by him, even if he can’t yet empathize with himself. (That part — well, that’s for all the angst-with-a-happy-ending fics to figure out).

[fruitfulsommed]

tw: smut, p in v sex, size kink?, slightly toxic

Suguru has to do everything for you.

Whether it's opening a jar that's just too tight, or reaching for a cup that "somehow" got onto the top shelf. Whether it's ironing a dress of yours because your shit at ironing or peeling your fruit/nuts before giving them to you. Whether it's packing your lunches or remembering to bring your jacket, hair tie or sunglasses when you go out.

Suguru does everything for you, so much to the point you forget how to do those things yourself. So used to having them done for you. You feel bad sometimes, kinda ungrateful even. But you really shouldn't because that's just the way Suguru like it.

Suguru loves doing everything for you, babying you. He likes you being dependent on him unable to do anything without him. It swells his ego and the bulge in his pants when you walk up to him all embarrassed, asking for his help with a dumb easy task.

Watching you attempt it before ultimately giving up and waddling your way to him. Cheeks flushed in humiliation at your inability to do a task that should be easy to do. And Suguru never teases you, not even as much as a laugh.

He just smiles sweetly and presses a soft kiss to your cheek completing the task without question. And suddenly you feel better, so glad to have such a caring boyfriend. And Suguru could just about cum in his pants watching relief flood your face when he doesn't mention the blush on your cheeks.

But even as nice as he is "no good deed goes unpunished" right? You've gotten too used to having everything done for you. So that's why when you get bitchy, spewing nonsense about how you're gonna leave him. Suguru has to remind you that you're useless without him. So it's best you just keep him around.

"Sugu- please~" You whine, hands scratching his biceps in desperation. Unable to contain your moans, your thighs shaking uncontrollably.

You can feel every inch of Sugurus veiny cock pushing through your gummy walls, his thrusts are fast and rough. He's merciless and uncaring, pushing your thighs up to your chest. So his cock can reach even deeper as his thumb abuses your swollen nub.

"Please what? Thought you were gonna leave me, baby." He coos teasingly, leaning in and folding you in half. His mushroom tip pressing so deliciously against your g-spot and you can barely contain the moans spilling from your lips relentlessly.

"Now this pretty pussy's sucking me in, hm?" Suguru presses kisses to your shaking thighs so sweetly as if he's not absolutely ravishing you. The squelching noises your pussy's making so slutty. And he's right.

You told him you were gonna leave for some dumb reason and if you're being honest you can't really remember what for. Especially not when he's hitting all the delicious spots inside you. Pressing sweet kisses to your temple and whispering such lewd words in your ear.

"Oh- Sugu 's so good~! 's too good.." You moan, wrapping your hands around his neck. You pull him into a kiss, moaning into his mouth. And you swear you can feel him smile against your lips but you don't really care. Because you're sure that knot in your tummy is about to burst and Suguru can feel it too.

His thumb moving quicker on your clit and his thrusts getting impossibly faster. "You feel so good, baby. Cum for me, yeah?" He whispers and you almost don't want to, not willing to give him the satisfaction. But you can't, because every drag of Sugurus cock builds that knot more and inevitably sends you over the edge.

You're basically screaming as you orgasm, thighs quivering and your nails digging into his shoulders. "Mmm sugu 's so good." You're words aren't even really coherent but he smiles anyway. Suguru loves you like this, so grateful and appreciative. Exactly how you should be.

Because Suguru has to do everything for you. Including making you cum.

[violet-hady]

I personally have 3 rules I personally use to determine whether or not a remake is, in my opinion, good.

1. The movie needs to be well made. By that I mostly mean that the characters and plot have to be well written. A good negative example is the Mulan remake. Maybe it’s just me, but I just don’t think it’s a good movie. It’s been a while since I watched it, but I remember the characters as boring, the plot riddled with holes, and the themes contradicting. And speaking of themes:

2. The remake shouldn’t contradict the themes of the original. Perfect negative example is the newly released Lilo and Stitch remake. They took the message “Ohana means family. Family means nobody gets left behind or forgotten.” And turned it into “Ohana is a nice idea, but it’s not real.”! They not only contradicted the themes of the original, but they also said “The themes of the original are bullshit.”! I know it’s only one of the many crimes that movie committed, but this is one of them.

3. The movie needs to do its own thing. Now, from the way it looks, many of the people making these movies think this one contradicts the second one. Most of the time they make their own thing, they break rule two. And when they try to not break it, we end up with movies like the lion king. Even if we ignore all the other flaws the movie has: The characters are mostly the same, the plot is mostly the same. Sure, there are small alterations to both, but it’s still very much the same movie (we’re still ignoring the other flaws). There is no reason anyone who has seen the original should watch the remake. And I haven’t seen it yet, but from what I heard from the How to Train your Dragon remake, I’m afraid it’ll fail in this category too.

Now, are there examples of movies actually fulfilling these criteria? In fact, yes, there are. They are just pretty rare. Best example I can think of is Maleficent.

- Good movie? ✅ (just watch it)

- Consistent themes? ✅ (true love conquers all vs. true love conquers all. They just replaced romantic for familial.)

- It’s own thing? ✅✅✅ (It’s basically a completely original movie, just using vaguely the same outline of the story.)

I also remember the jungle book to be pretty good at this, but take that with a grain of salt, it’s been very long since I’ve seen the remake, and even longer since I watched the original. I also heard good things about the Cinderella remake, but I haven’t watched it, so I can’t judge that. And that’s all the examples I can think of right now. Like I said, it’s rare. But those who fulfill these criteria are good movies which deserve to exist.

"What do you want from a remake" I DON'T WANT THEM. I DON'T WANT ANOTHER SOULLESS NOSTALGIA-FILLED CASH-GRAB. I DON'T WANT ANY OF THEM. I DON'T WANT ADAPTATIONS THAT KILL THE ORIGINAL MESSAGE OF THE THING THEY WERE BASED UPON NEITHER THE SHOT-BY-SHOT DESATURATED RECREATIONS. I WANT ORIGINAL STORIES!!! NOT REMAKES OF MOVIES THAT AIN'T EVEN 30 YEARS OLD!!!​AAGGGGGHHH

[jinhyun]

—heart fluttering.

pairing: hwang hyunjin x reader, ft. lee chaeryeong x kim seungmin

genre: fluff, humor, college au, established relationship, slice of life

word count: 4.5k

summary: who would’ve thought that an unattended romance book on your coffee table would lead to a whole argument with your friends about the technicalities of pinning someone up against the wall. good thing your boyfriend was eager to help you reenact such a controversial scene and—not really—prove your point.

a/n: well hello there, it’s been a while hehe. i’m just here to post this story for my mother hen @taikapavunvarsi’s birthday, as i’ve been doing every single year now. couldn’t lose the tradition. i fucked up the time zones for this post and you’re probably sleeping rn, but i still hope you had the greatest of days and got lots of love from your loved ones, you deserve nothing but the best things in life ♡ i also hope that you enjoy this little one shot i wrote for you. i haven’t written at all in like two months so forgive my rustiness. anyway, you said you wanted ‘booktok boyfriend challenge’ and maybe reversed, and also after some digging on my end (aka going all the way up on our chat 💀) i realised that you said ‘the watercolors’ when you sent that video to me, so the watercolors you get. and also it’s not really a tiktok challenge they’re doing in this piece bc i kinda twisted it as always lol but i hope you still like it<3

and well, since i wrote this for the watercolor couple, i thought fuck it i’m posting it here. if anyone else reads it, i hope you all enjoy~

“That’s impossible” Seungmin’s final statement earned a side eye from you, which was nothing compared to the way Chae whipped her head in his direction—just like that, letting him know she was taking full offense in his confident words.

“No, it’s not?!” Chaeryeong beat you to it, just as you were opening your mouth to let out the exact same words.

“Babe, I’m telling you, it’s not possible”.

“Yes, it is!” You backed your friend up this time.

Given the intensity each of your statements carried, any outsider would think you were discussing a life or death situation. Especially after the over dramatic roll of eyes Seungmin gave you after contradicting him.

In reality, what got the three of you so heated up was whether a specific paragraph from the book Cherry was currently reading—and which you had already read and lent it to her in the first place—was actually possible or not.

“Give me the book,” Seungmin asked his girlfriend, holding his palm open for her to comply. Once she did, he traced his index finger under the words as he read them out loud: “He shoved her up against the wall, his height towering over her, and then with one hand pinning both of her wrists above her head”.

“What’s so unrealistic about it?” You wondered when he finished with a rather amused scoff.

“So, he pushes her against the wall, then he towers over her, meaning he’s like, extremely close to her, and then with one hand he grabs both her wrists and pulls them up over her head?”

“I don’t get you…” Chaeryeong frowned, visibly trying to understand her boyfriend’s point.

“Wouldn’t her arms be stiff when he pulls them both up at the same time?” He pointed out. “There wouldn’t be space for him to pull them up, since he needs to hold them together, probably in the middle, and then pull them up. He either should’ve done that before coming closer to her or should’ve used both hands so they could go up from her sides and not from the middle”.

You and Chaeryeong stayed silent, exchanging troubled looks as you simultaneously tried to picture the point he was making and to come up with different ways for the narration to work out.

Truth be told, you didn’t really care that much about the physical technicalities when it came to romance books. As long as you could picture what the writer was trying to portray, even if it wasn’t exactly what they had in mind, you were okay with it.

As long as the words in it made you feel something, you could look past a couple of mistakes.

Seungmin, on the other hand, who had only read that one page when Cherry left the book unattended to go to the restroom a few minutes ago, could not look past the ‘poor’—as he had so dismissively called it—wording of that particular paragraph.

“It doesn’t say that they’re extremely close, though?” You argued. “Maybe there is enough space for him to do that”.

“There isn’t” he was fast to reply.

“How would you know that?” Chaeryeong frowned.

“When us guys shove someone against the wall we instinctively corner them right away, that’s the whole point. You don’t just push them and stand there like an idiot before doing anything else”.

“Oof, speaking from experience now?” You taunted him, laughing proudly when you got flipped off right away. “Maybe this one guy did just stand there for a bit and therefore there was enough space between them”.

Chaeryeong nodded rapidly, strongly agreeing with you before Seungmin shook his head in disagreement.

“It literally says he was towering over her”.

“And the meaning of that is up for interpretation,” his girlfriend argued back once again.

“What’s up for interpretation?” Hyunjin asked, entering the living room holding a big bowl of popcorn, after having excused himself to go make himself a quick snack earlier.

“The paragraph from a book” you answered him.

“The one you lent Cherry?” He asked, leaning against the doorframe as he shoved a handful of popcorn into his mouth.

You couldn’t help but smile at the sight of him, for a moment there forgetting you were in the middle of an argument. “Yes. There’s this one line that Seungmin swears is not possible”.

“It’s not, though” Seungmin argued once more, and you knew right then he was now only trying to provoke you and his girlfriend.

The glare you threw his way must’ve been one of a kind, for it had Hyunjin chuckling in a heartbeat.

“I thought you guys were fighting for real from the bits and pieces I heard from the kitchen”.

“Oh, we’re close to” Cherry folded her arms over her chest.

It was funny to think this was what your Friday nights had come to after a year of you dating Hyunjin, and of Cherry dating Seungmin.

With you and Chaeryeong being best friends and also roommates, and the same being Hyunjin and Seungmin’s situation, it was inevitable for the four of you to stick together among your larger group of friends. It was unspoken, even.

Since you and Seungmin were done earlier with your last class on Fridays, you would head over to the dance practice room together, where Chaeryeong and Hyunjin would be, as always, mastering their respective routines. You would wait for them to finish, catch up a bit in the meantime, and then all four of you would head over to either your or their dorm, and just hang out there if you didn’t have any particular couple activities planned out with your respective partners. Usually, it was yours, so you wouldn’t bother Changbin if he happened to be at their place—you had already been called out one too many times for making him fifth wheel.

Today, it was no different.

It was supposed to be a peaceful evening, just chatting in the living room all four of you until it was time for Chae and Seungmin to leave, since they were going to the movies later that night. Although, to be fair, no evening could ever be completely peaceful when both your dramatic boyfriend and her tsundere one were together.

Maybe if Chaeryeong hadn’t left your book on the coffee table the night before, you could’ve accomplished an almost peaceful one, because then Seungmin wouldn’t have caught a glance of it after she left his side and he found himself looking for another eye-catching sight around your place, and maybe then he wouldn’t have read that infamous line that got the three of you arguing like your lives depended on it.

Hyunjin would probably have agreed with Seungmin, had he been in the room with you when all hell broke loose. Their experience pinning people against a wall was probably over half of yours—which was nonexistent—after all. But, he wasn’t there for it. So, your eyes lit up when you looked at him and an idea came to your mind.

Watching him place the bowl of popcorn on the coffee table as he munched on another handful of them, you stood up before he could take a seat next to you like he intended.

“Jinnie, come here” you called him, having him follow you to the wall next to the sofa where you had been sitting. When he was in front of you and his rather confused eyes were silently asking you what you wanted, you said: “Pin me up against the wall”.

And maybe you should’ve known better than to make such a request to him all of a sudden, because next thing you knew, confusion was replaced by lust in the way he looked at you, and his hands on both sides of your hips were pulling you closer to him.

“Here in front of our friends?” He mumbled, smiling against your lips and sending shivers down your spine.

Sadly, he didn’t get to steal a kiss from your mouth like he was dying to. Not because of the giggle that had just escaped it—as you couldn’t help but get shy even after all the times you had kissed in front of your friends and vice versa—but because of the pillow Seungmin didn’t hesitate to throw at his head as soon as he realised what was about to go down in front of them.

“Boo, you hoe!” he called your boyfriend out.

Hyunjin threw his head lightly back, biting his lip as he tried to conceal the amused��yet frustrated—smile already parting his lips. Still, he didn’t hesitate to grab the pillow from off the floor and throw it right back to Minnie.

“So,” Hyunjin began after successfully hitting his friend, pulling you closer to him again. “Do I pin you up against the wall or not?”

“Yes, but not like that” Chaeryeong answered for you, causing a laugh to escape your lips.

“Wait, but don’t tell him how, we’re trying to prove a point here” you reminded them, looking for confirmation from both of them before your eyes went back to your boyfriend. “Just, pin me up against the wall”.

“Like, forcefully or…”

“Um…” you hesitated.

“It does say ‘shove’ against the wall here, so yeah, forcefully” Seungmin said.

“And then pull her hands above her head” Cherry added.

“What the hell are you guys on about?” He frowned, not really knowing whether he should be worried or not.

“Just do it” you laughed.

“Okay, so…” his uncertain eyes fixed on yours, looking for consent to push you against the wall.

With a silent nod, you let him know to go for it. And so, his hands went up to your ribcage, missing your breasts by an inch, and he pushed you to the wall. It wasn’t hard enough to hurt you, but just enough for a thud to be heard at the impact.

Before you could process whether you had liked it or not, he was already grabbing your hands and pulling them up above your head.

You found out right then that you did indeed like it. Maybe a little too much. Enough to only focus on his plump lips nearly touching yours, and, therefore, to miss the way he had used both hands to pin yours up.

“Told you!” Seungmin managed to break the sexual tension already taking over the two of you. “You need both hands for that”.

“Doesn’t mean you can’t use only one, though?” You argued, unconsciously resting your hands on Hyunjin’s chest.

“Oh, you wanted me to use only one?” He asked you, then looking at your friends. “I can do that”.

“Let’s see it,” Seungmin said, grabbing the bowl of popcorn and leaning back on the sofa.

“What are you, a judge?” Hyunjin scoffed.

“Oh, hush. Just do it”.

Rolling his eyes, he took a step away from you, so he could reenact the scene right from the start.

This time, however, instead of shoving you up against the wall right away, he grabbed your right wrist and then brought it up to your left one before he pulled them up above your head. It was only when your hands were about to reach the top of your head, that his free hand went up to your waist and he pushed you against the wall—almost as if he’d heard Seungmin’s previous argument—cornering you right away.

It was fair to say, whether he had just proved Seungmin’s point or not, you were enjoying this whole argument way too much.

“See?” Seungmin looked at Chaeryeong with a proud smirk.

“We haven’t seen the way the book describes it yet, though” she refused to give it up, reaching for the book on the coffee table and looking for the controversial paragraph.

“Is this really what our Friday nights have come to?” You asked in utter disbelief.

“I’m not really complaining” Hyunjin confessed—a breathy laugh escaping his mouth as he lovingly bumped your nose with his own.

“I mean, it could be possible,” Seungmin stood up, deliberately ignoring the PDA going on in front of him and walking over to you—watching the reenactment from the couch not being enough anymore. “But it’d be too inconvenient, like, if you’re that close and you hold both wr—”

“You are not shoving my girlfriend up against the wall” Hyunjin warned him when he tried to shove him aside in order to take his place, unconsciously grabbing your hand and pulling you to him.

Seungmin rolled his eyes. “I’m not, I’m just trying to make a point here”.

“Go make your point with Chaeryeong over there”.

“Hold on, I’m looking for the line” she absentmindedly replied as she scanned the page.

You snorted, leaning your head against your boyfriend’s shoulder. You didn’t know whether she was unaware or simply unfazed—either of them being just as funny to you.

“Okay, I got it,” Cherry announced, going up to you as well. “So, what you have to do is, shove her up against the wall,” she looked up to Hyunjin, waiting for him to do so—which he did, only gently this time, as the four of you seemed to be more into the technicality of it all rather than into the reenactment. “Tower over her,” she read, and that he did as well, making your heart race when he took it one step further by tilting your chin up with his fingers, so he could lean in to faintly touch your mouth with his lips.

“Keep it professional, dude” Seungmin called him out—justice being made for you when he was the one to get flipped off now by your boyfriend.

“And now,” Chaeryeong resumed. “With one hand, hold both of hers up”.

You knew Seungmin was right—as if the two previous tries hadn’t already been proof enough—when you saw your boyfriend hesitate, only then realising how close he had come to you by simply being told to tower over you.

Hyunjin knew something was off right away, having to take a few seconds to figure out how to pull your hands up in between the little to nonexistent space between your bodies.

In the end, the safest choice was to take a step back in order to do so, coming right back to tower over you as soon as he got your hands pinned to the wall. Just like that, proving that, although possible, it would turn out clumsy enough—not to say ‘inconvenient’, like Seungmin had claimed—to mess with the heat of the moment.

“Told you,” Seungmin smiled proudly once again. “Inconvenient”.

“Whatever” Chaeryeong shrugged, closing the book and carefully throwing it on the couch as she finally admitted defeat. “All I got from this is that you two share the same braincell. Luke clearly left enough space between them”.

“Luke,” he mockingly repeated the character’s name he had just learned. “Was clearly written by a woman who’s never pinned anyone against a wall”.

“And that’s why he’s way better than you two”.

You couldn’t help the throaty laugh that escaped your mouth at her bitter remark. While Seungmin’s jaw fell open, desperately looking for a clap back for that yet coming up with nothing, a quite offended Hyunjin nudged you, for your friend’s insult had involved him too and you were laughing.

Chaeryeong, on the other hand, was unable to hold back a laugh of her own at the sight of her baffled boyfriend—pulling the now pouty guy into a hug. “Okay, I’m sorry” she apologised with a peck to his lips, knowing she was forgiven when his hands rested on her waist and his thumbs drew small circles on it. “But, honestly, just read the damn book and you’ll get why we don’t really care about technicalities”.

“If it’s so good they’ll probably make a movie of it, so I’ll just wait for that” he smiled cynically.

Chaeryeong rolled her eyes with a smile, only for it to be erased the next second when realisation hit her. “Wait, the movie!”

Seungmin’s face was quick to match her panicked one.

Being too immersed in the rather entertaining argument, neither of them had remembered the movie they had got tickets for earlier that week, and which they should’ve left for a while ago now.

“Shit, what time is it?” Seungmin asked, rushing to get his things.

“Eight thirty” Hyunjin let him know as he checked his phone.

“Fuck, we only have fifteen minutes”.

“Let’s go” Cherry hurried him up, putting on her shoes and grabbing her coat by the entrance.

“Coming” Seungmin announced from the couch, shoving his phone into his pocket and running to put on his shoes as well, as Chaeryeong held the door open while waiting for him. “Okay, see you guys later, bye!”

Chuckling over the entire situation after hearing them slam the door shut, and feeling the silence take over the room now that your friends were gone, you looked up to Hyunjin. Although the both of you were resting your backs against the wall now, as he had leaned on it in order to watch your friends rushing out of your place, he didn’t waste another second to corner you again—getting the perfect opportunity to tilt your chin up and to finally press his mouth to yours, like he had been dying to ever since you asked him to pin you up against the wall earlier that night.

Your arms wrapped around his neck, and his own snaked around your waist, pulling you so close to his body that you found yourself laughing breathily at the lack of oxygen you were getting after a few seconds.

“So those are the kind of books you’re always reading?” He smirked over your lips, slightly loosening his hold on you—just enough for you to catch your breath.

“God forbid a girl wants to read some heart fluttering stories” you couldn’t help but sound defensive, gently letting your palms slide down to his chest.

He chuckled, gently nuzzling your neck. “I’m not shaming you or anything, it’s just interesting”.

“What is?”

“That those kinds of things make your heart flutter”.

“Those kinds of things?” You asked.

“Pinning you up against the wall?” He cocked a teasing eyebrow.

“As if you didn’t know that already” you rolled your eyes, folding your arms over your chest.

“I didn’t” he chuckled, teasingly pinching your sides before he pulled you closer and kissed you once more.

Sure, he had pinned you up against the wall a couple of times—maybe more than a couple in the time you had been together—but never forcefully, or at least not enough to make the impact of your body against it to actually make a sound, like it had today.

He had only now discovered that you enjoyed it. And he was surely loving this newfound liking of yours.

“If you ever got pinned up against a wall like that, you’d get the hype” you defended yourself.

“Well, you could always show me” he shrugged, unable to hide the smirk that was already curving up his lips.

“Me?”

“Aren’t you my girlfriend? Who else would pin me up against a wall if not you?”

“The height difference won’t help, though”.

“I’ll cooperate” he promised, earning a light laugh from you. “You need to do the whole thing, though. I want my arms pinned above my head and all”.

“You’re delusional,” you laughed.

“For knowing what I want?” He said over dramatically.

“Ah, what did I get myself into” you amusedly lamented, but gave in regardless.

Letting go of each other and switching sides, being now him the one turning his back to the wall while you faced him, you couldn’t help but hesitate, just like he had done before pushing you for the first time.

Turned out, it was actually mind wrecking not knowing how much force to put into shoving the person you loved in order not to hurt them. Not like you could actually push him that hard if you wanted, but still.

“I’m waiting~” he teased you.

At that, knowing well enough he would tease you even harder if you took any longer, you just pushed him without a second thought—only to panic as soon as you heard his back hit the wall.

“Was that okay?” You asked him right away.

He dramatically clutched his chest. “My heart’s nearly beating out of my chest”.

“Oh, shut up” you rolled your eyes, deciding to just get it over with and grab both his wrists in order to pull them above his head.

Since you had already pushed him and there was enough space between the two of you, given that you forgot to corner him against the wall right after—you could almost hear Seungmin calling you an idiot—your stubbornness told you to only use one hand to do so.

Now, the problem was, that you forgot how big Hyunjin’s hands actually were, and therefore why it was so easy for him to grab both your wrists with only one of them—as opposed to you, who were already struggling with the task.

Hyunjin was enjoying it one hell of a lot, though. He couldn’t hold back a giggle as he watched you struggle for a few seconds to secure his wrists in your hand, and then he completely lost it when you finally managed to pull them up over his head, only for you not to be able to reach all the way up and just leave them hanging there midway.

“Yah, you said you’d cooperate!” You whined.

“I’m slouching, I’m slouching” he defended himself in between laughs as he did so.

However, hearing your laugh only made him laugh harder, to the point he gave up on slouching at all and ended up kneeling down instead, letting his face rest on your abdomen and holding onto the curve of your back as he looked for some kind of support.

“You’re so annoying” you half laughed, half whined again; trying to help him stand back up.

“You’re so cute,” he cooed.

Letting out one last throaty laugh and finally managing to catch his breath, he let you help him up, smiling lovingly when you cupped his face and wiped the tears of joy that had rolled down his cheeks.

“So, pinning you up against the wall is a no-go to make your heart flutter” you nodded your head.

“It did flutter though, but just because you’re too adorable and I love you” he admitted, and it was your heart the one to flutter at that.

“What can I do to truly make your heart go all mushy then?”

“Honestly?” He asked.

You nodded.

“I love it when you play with my hair”.

You smiled, as it was no news. He had been very vocal about it after the first time you played with his hair while you cuddled on his couch, even way before being a couple.

It was always nice to hear how much he actually loved it, though.

“I was thinking more of a book-ish thing to do…” you confessed.

“Book-ish?” He poked fun at you.

“Yeah, you know, cliché things characters in romance books do” you looked around as you tried to think of something. “Like when they grab your face and make you look at them when you’re not paying attention, like—”

Before you could finish your sentence, he was already grabbing your chin and making you look up at him.

“Like this?” He mumbled against your lips.

You felt your cheeks burn embarrassingly fast, having to look to the side in a poor attempt to play it cool—only to have him playfully make you look at him again.

“Hwang Hyunjin,” you warned him, unknowingly making his heart race at the sound of the lower register you had just used.

“Yes, baby?”

“You’re not supposed to make me flustered, I was about to make a move there”.

He laughed under his breath. “Let’s be honest now, if you were to do that right now, with us standing up, I’d probably just end up looking to the wall”.

Your jaw fell open in full offense. “If I grab your face and turn it in my direction, you’re supposed to look at me even if I’m shorter than you. It’s common courtesy”.

“You’re the one manhandling me, you’re supposed to make me look at you”.

“And that’s what—I give up” you held your hands up in defeat. “I could never be the man of this relationship”.

“Good,” he said, grabbing your waist and turning both of you around, so that he was once again the one cornering you against the wall and leaning down so close to you that you could feel your breathings mix. “Just leave the manhandling to me, hm?”

You bit your lip, in a hopeless attempt to conceal the smile already curving up your lips. He chuckled against your mouth, leaning in to press a slow, lingering kiss to it.

You would be a fool to turn down his offer.

“I want to make your heart flutter too, though” you pouted nevertheless.

“And you always do that without even trying”.

“I do?”

“Mhm…” he lovingly tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “Like I said, when you play with my hair, or when you lean your head on my shoulder, also when you call me baby… when you use that lower tone of yours to talk to me, and when you doodle literally anything while we talk and then gift it to me…” his eyes softened at the memories. “Do I keep going?”

You softly shook your head no—your heart already feeling warm enough because of his words. “I believe that’s good en—”

“Oh, I love it when you wear my clothes!” He cut you off, eyes lighting up over the sudden train of thought. “Fuck, especially when you only wear one of my t-shirts to sleep and I get to admire your pretty thighs while you walk around my room”.

You chuckled at his last addition, feeling your cheeks burn all over again. “You’re getting a bit carried away now, aren’t you, baby?”

He bit his lip, remaining silent yet not finding it in him to feel the least bit embarrassed. You were all his after all, he was allowed to admire your beauty in all its splendor and gush about it all he wanted.

“I’ll make sure to do all that more often then” you quietly added with a smile, reaching up to sweetly catch his bottom lip in between yours.

“There are a few of my t-shirts in your closet, so how about doing that one now?” He proposed, temptingly brushing his lips against yours.

“If that’s what it takes to make your heart flutter…” you quietly taunted him.

He agreed with a small nod, pressing his lips to yours and teasingly grabbing a hold of your wrists. “I’ll make sure yours does too by pinning you up against your bedroom wall while we’re at it”.