would be funny, if Nina had a gf, and due to Johan's tendency to see him and nina as the same, he'd drop by casually, disguised or not, while nina is away. What's wrong? Nina is him and he's Nina! There's no complications with kissing him! You're basically kissing his sister! (Eaten ask)
your brain anon...........like EXACTLY. exactly. God this is sooo hot and weird which is johan's brand. He is karl marxing the fuck out of his sister's girlfriend. What do you mean "meet my girlfriend"? You mean meet OUR girlfriend. right?
(tw: nonconsensual kissing, yandere)
Could you imagine bidding your girlfriend, Nina, goodbye after she spent the whole evening at your place? You whine and beg her to stay longer, clinging onto her, but she rolls her eyes playfully and insists she has to go.
She gives you a loving parting kiss on your lips, then plants even more– on your nose, cheeks, and finally your forehead– before she reluctantly pulls away. Any more, she jests, and she won’t be able to leave.
"You know I hate leaving you like this," she laughs softly. "But don't worry, I'll make up for today once my exams are over. Okay?"
She gives you one last final kiss before finally leaving, waving at you as she walks down the street.
You sigh and close the door, already missing her.
You really love Nina, but sometimes it feels like she doesn’t have much time for you. You understand she has her exams, a part-time job, and aikido training, which doesn’t really leave much left for you. Still, you can’t help but feel a bit greedy, wishing she’d at least dedicate a part of her to you. You're her girlfriend, after all.
You sigh one last time. No use.
She’s already spread too thin, and you know if you tell her your concern, she’ll worry and try to double her efforts to make time for you. No way in hell are you going to give her any more stress in her life. Although today was just half a day together, you're grateful. Even if it left you unbelievably craving, aching for more…
You hear a soft knock on your door. Is it Nina? Did she forget something? Oh, your prayers have been answered. You just wanted one more second with her. You open the door immediately, an excited smile on your face.
"What did you forget this ti-"
"Missing me already?"
You freeze, standing dumbfounded. In front of you is not, in fact, your girlfriend, but a tall, blonde man smiling softly at you.
"I'm… I'm sorry. I don't— Do I know you?" you ask, trying to stay cool. He must have the wrong house to ask something like that so proudly. You’ve never met him before.
His smile doesn’t falter at your question. He continues looking at you, his eye contact unwavering.
"You do." he answers, calmly leaving no explanation, still smiling softly.
You’re getting nervous. He keeps staring and smiling at you. You try to get a good look at him. Is he a mutual friend? An old classmate? A person you pissed off once? You’re at a blank. Though… the more you look at him, the more you notice how similar he looks to… to your… what the hell.
Why does he... look... a bit like Nina?
No. You chalk it off. He just has blonde hair and blue eyes, and the fact you’re missing your girlfriend terribly doesn’t help. But even then, their facial features strike a matching resemblance. It’s a bit uncanny.
You let out a nervous laugh and smile sheepishly at him. "Look, I’m really racking my brain here. Have we met before? I’m really sorry if I can’t recall…"
You give him his cue to introduce himself, to remind you who he is, to be offended at you forgetting—anything! He’s just standing there, staring down with that same smile. Your eyes dart around, seeing if this is a prank. A small uneasy pit forms in your stomach.
A beat passes by. You still wait for his reply.
You can't help but start feeling creeped out. Stupid. Always ask who’s there before opening the door. Just ask him what he wants with you and get it out of the way.
"Hey uh, I-"
He kisses you, his lips softly crashing against yours, hands gently cradling the back of your neck. He’s not forceful, but his hold is steady. You squirm and try to break free, but he quickly shushes you and holds you closer, entrapping your lips in another long kiss.
You think of quickly think of biting him, but he gently pulls away right before you can go through with the thought. His hands come up to tenderly cup your face, his thumb softly brushing against your cheek as he looks at you.
Your vision begins to blur from your tears, your legs wobbling from the fear of the situation.
"I don't know you!" you practically scream out. Your desperation kicks in as you continue to panic. "P-Please. please. please. I'm sorry. I don't know you. I don't… I don't… please… I-."
You cry softly, pleading with him. He just continues cradling your face in his hands, looking at you with that godawful eerie smile. He leans back in, slowly murmuring,
"Shh…"
He continues peppering kisses all over your wet cheeks. "You do know me," he whispers, kissing your nose. "And you know I need to make it up to you," he says, kissing your forehead. He hums softly and leaves another final chaste kiss on your lips.
"And you know I hate leaving you like this."
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maybe a hot take but please don’t have or stop having children if you have an active eating disorder/body dysmorphia (including binge eating, not just restrictive disorders). seriously
thinking you’ll be the exception (because you’re So self-aware, unlike those Other disordered women) and won’t give your dysmorphia/eating disorder to your child is pride before a very slow and terrible fall
it never ever works. you’re never ever immune. i mean, such a huge reason of why there are so many of us now is bc our moms thought the same thing lmfao. didn’t matter how well-intentioned they were. no matter how much they tried to separate Their Problems from Ours. here we fucking are
i know it’s not women’s fault to begin with, but the reality is that those of us affected do incubate, nurture, and pass on the virus in the Current Way of Things
the buck needs to stop here. this isn’t a game. think of all the things your mother probably thought she was expertly hiding from you that you still picked up on and were profoundly affected by in a terrible and formative way. it will happen to you, too. don’t think it won’t.
if you know that you’re not solidly and confidently recovered, you have a responsibility to stop that buck and not actively attempt to create a child who will observe, mimic, internalize, adopt, and inherit your lifelong life-ruining behavior. the selfishness is breathtaking honestly
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sigh. they have bewitched me with their “practically built for magical realism aus” ways. have 500 words of nonsense that will become a real fic Eventually
When they bring out the bring out the little microphone and the camera for the video, Lando has to shove down the groan that threatens to escape.
He’s been nursing a mid-level headache for an hour now, having accidentally bumped into Oscar on their way into the motor home, the lightning-fast wave of happy—hungry-for-more—exhausted flashing into shock—too-much—pain, and then into horrible emptiness when they’d both flinched away.
From the poorly hidden grimace on Oscar’s face, he’s in the same boat, head pounding, just as apprehensive of the tiny mic. Another touch, skin-to-skin at that, and Lando’s gonna be throwing up protein shake and champagne on camera.
The last time they’d touched bare-handed, it was Lando’s fault. He’d forgotten, shoved his way into Oscar’s space just because he wanted to, no thought given to silly things like wild bonds or consequences, and was rewarded with a splitting headache and a very muddled memory of the sheer force of the fondness Oscar was feeling before everything twisted into suffering.
Oscar had thrown up, then.
Lando hadn’t, but only barely; shoving two people’s feelings into a space only meant for one along a bond that by any logic shouldn’t actually exist, well. It’s been unpleasant, to say the least. Even if they’ve been getting better at carefully dipping and dodging around each other. The less they speak of the nightmare that’s been filming for social media, the better.
Lando takes the mic from Zak, fingers briefly touching, and feels absolutely nothing that isn’t already going on inside his own head. He lets his mouth run. Media training can take the wheel on this one; he’s got bigger things to focus on, like not exploding the brains of McLaren’s entire fucking driver lineup in one go. Andrea would not be very happy with him for that.
Lando finishes rambling.
“To everyone that was cheering us on and celebrating this with me, thank you very much, and I’ll hand over to Osc.”
He holds the mic out, pinching it between two fingers so as much plastic casing is available to grab as possible. Oscar takes it, careful but smooth, pinkie finger slightly raised to avoid accidental contact, and Lando lets go.
“To Osc,” Oscar repeats, relief obvious in his smile.
He takes a deep breath and starts his own rambling debrief.
Lando tunes out, just a little, relieved and exhausted and still battling that freaking headache. He’s nodding along mindlessly to Oscar’s thanks when another shock wave hits. Lando panics for a split-second, flinches hard and runs through the last few moments, wracking his brain for how he could’ve possibly touched Oscar with the careful distance they’d both put between them, and realizes Zak's dumped a bottle over his head. The cold shock of the champagne on his scalp and down his body had felt eerily familiar, too close to the feeling of touching Oscar and blowing out their bond.
Lando pastes on a smile and lets Oscar handle the outro, ready to pop some paracetamol and get the fuck out of this minefield of a debrief video.
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