#but i find it to be a much easier thing to do for a lot of folks versus civil disobedience as that tends to risk jail time

[fairene]

passenger princess / ln4

established relationship lando norris x fem!reader

no use of y/n, as always.

in which the weekend takes a twist, and all you want is a baby.

prompt⋯ hi! first of all, i absolutely ADORE your writing. i’ve been reading all of your stuff for the past few days!! second, i was scrolling on pinterest and i rediscovered the lando daddy bracelet pic. that combined with THE dutch gp pic made me be down even worse for him. with that i request a fic with an established reader x lando relationship. that’s set during the weekend of the 2024 dutch gp. where he wears the bracelet over the course of the weekend and it gets you(? or me? idk how to phrase that) really worked up, and after he wins they fuck while he’s still wearing it. and it’s like the most rough feral sex known to mankind. but at the end you want him to come in you and he’s like “oh you wanna make me a daddy”. like yes it is a slight breeding kink but it’s more of the idea of the bracelet and how he definitely knew what he was doing when he wore it (in the fic and irl too tbh). that’s the general idea but feel free to put your own spin on it!! i am incredibly down bad for him and that photo did something to me. ty 🤗🧡

a/n ⋯ yeah tbh i got no excuse for this one chat...like...how could i not resist a breeding kink...i know y'all want it too. but for real--- thank you anon for being patient. i had a lot of fun writing this in between doing work. writing is an escape for me. thank you to all for the continued support, and i'll be continuing to get through asks as time moves along. comment below to be added to my taglist, or comment in general! i love replying to all of them as much as i can.

warnings ⋯ SMUT 18+++!!! minors DNI!!!, language, choking, p in v sex (wrap before you tap!), fingering!(f)receiving, breeding kink, impregnation, teasing, possessiveness, jealousy, creampie, begging, mating press-- allat shit tbh. if i miss a warning, let me know.

wc ⋯ 8.5k (unedited.)

things had begun to be different between you and lando. you couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment when the gears shifted, the stars aligned, though you only cared how good it made you feel with him. 

but he knew. he knew exactly when.

you’d been dating lando for two years now. it was two years of pure bliss— the exciting lifestyle that you’ve craved, the love and care, the passion that you shared with him was exquisitely yours. he is yours. and you are his.

that morning in the paddock he was speaking to max, chattering about the post collision from hungaroring. they seemed to make up in due time, finding it easier to call one another “brother’s” again, despite the damages done to their cars and the media in an uproar about their impish, punitive behaviors. you didn’t spare any glance towards the comments made about it, knowing that lando had been in a rough shape that weekend. 

you played with penelope, p, as they were talking, squatted on the ground with colored pens in your hand. kelly loomed behind, on her phone, thankful enough that you could occupy her for the time being. you had no issue entertaining her. you loved being around children…most of the time. 

“this one?” you held out the red pen for p, as she was pointing to with a bashful look. she was shy– especially around you, given your ethereal, wanderlust nature. you carried yourself in such an elegant way that could facilitate a ray of sunlight through the most tepid storms. 

she nodded and you handed it to her. she latched her smaller hand around it, coloring in the rb20 from her sketchbook. your hand fell beneath your chin as you watched her carefully color inside the lines, dreading falling out of it. you smiled as she did, the dress you wore crinkling fashionably around your thighs. 

p flashed the page at you nervously, awaiting her input. your eyes glowed, sparkles falling onto the page as you scanned it. she really did do a good job.

“beautiful, p!” you commented, your palm splaying over her upper back. “you’re really good at this, you know?”

a shade of red filled her cheeks, warming her skin. you hadn’t meant to embarrass her, nor make her nervous. 

“do you want to color one with me?” you asked her, pointing to the pages in the book. she hesitated for a moment, as if she didn’t hear you properly, but ended up nodding with the same excitement that she did when she’d see max on the podium. “you pick. something…pretty.”

the gears were turning in her head as she flipped through the pages, trying to find the perfect one for you and her to work on. you, on the other hand, were focused on how her brows scrunched together as she furiously searched through her booklet. it was cute the way she perceived things. she was a cutie. it made you think about your own future, what you wanted. 

what you wanted,

your eyes drifted from the carpeted floors inside the hospitality room, to the shoes that he wore, and up his black jeans to the papaya livery he sported for the day. you lingered on the expanse of his chest, the tan skin peaking through the v-neck of his unbuttoned collar. your mouth watered instinctively, thinking about how lucky you were to have a man like lando love you so deeply.

as you glanced further up towards his chin, the unshaved rigid surface that sparked electricity over your body, you found him already looking down at you. he wasn’t even paying attention to max at this point, already giving you all of his attention and you didn’t even need to ask. 

you gave him a smile, covering your lips afterward to stifle your giggle, and turned back to p once she tapped you that she’d found a picture for the two of you to color.

“mate?”

lando was lost in a daze staring at you. gawking at your figure, the dress you decided to wear. it was a denim colored sheath that you’d twin with alexandra with. she’d wear the gia dress in a pomegranate hue, whereas you took the navy. 

lando’s hand was cupped against his chin, rubbing over his stubble, keen on watching how you interacted with p. 

your relationship had progressed further than he’s ever gotten to before in his life. he was at a point where he knew he didn’t want anyone else, to explore someone else’s body the way he did yours. he knew you, inside and out, and he didn’t think another connection was even fathomable. 

you appeared to be so gentle with her, taking the time to listen to what she wanted you to do, how to color, maneuver the pens. there would be no outside the line coloring on her watch, that was for sure. 

he found himself smiling bright. 

do you want kids? 

he knew that he did. he always knew that. but he’d never broach the subject to you directly. your relationship with him was secure, but was it eligible to be taken to the next level? would you be frightened by his sudden urge to create a life with you? a product of him, and the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen?

“yeah? sorry.” lando looked back towards max. but it was too late, and max was looking over his shoulder towards you and p.

when he looked back towards lando, he threw his hands up in defense. max rolled his eyes. “don’t know why you haven’t proposed to her yet. what’re you waiting for?” 

lando bristled. he waited a moment to answer, wondering the same fucking thing. what was he waiting on? the perfect time, perhaps. summer break was rapidly approaching, and he certainly had a ring picked out. 

the papaya clad driver pulled out his phone and scrolled through his photos, settled on the right one, and handed it to max. the other driver took it, zooming in, not that he needed to. 

“when?”

lando shrugged. “summer break. greece, maybe.” 

max cheered, slapping his hand over his mouth in shock. “you’re serious, mate?” lando nodded. max pulled him in for a hug, slapping him over the back. he couldn’t be happier for his best friend in this moment, starting to jump up and down. lando settled him down and slid his phone back into his pocket. 

“keep it quiet. i want her to be surprised.” 

max made a motion of a lock and key. “surprised about what?” 

lando felt giddy.

you hadn’t been paying much attention to what lando nor max were chittering about. you’d been so hyper focused on coloring with p, that you were absent minded of the conversation behind you. 

p had picked out a cartoon illustration of max and lando smiling towards the viewer. you’d thought it was an adorable choice, and it showed that p was more aware than what she led on to be. she, of course, started coloring in max. with his neutrally blonde hair, redbull cap, she was fast working. 

but then she shoved the book towards you, politely anyways, and pointed at lando, who was yet to be colored in. 

“my turn?” she nodded her head, handing you the orange marker. 

you grinned, carefully coloring in the lines of the drawing before p took a deep breath. “are you and lando married?” 

the question had you freeze momentarily, taken back by her question. “no, p, we’re not.” 

you continued to color, whilst she continued to question. “why not?”

“because he hasn’t asked me.”

“why don’t you ask him?” 

“i’m not sure that’s what he wants.”

p raised a brow. she looked towards lando and max, giggling together like school girls, then back to you and your focused coloring.

she handed you a brown marker for lando’s curls. “i think you should.”

now it was your turn to be inquisitive, “really, now?”

she nodded her head without hesitating. “then you’d be my aunt!” she giggled. 

you colored in lando’s curls, carefully, diligently, thinking of how they felt beneath your fingertips. your breath hitched thinking about the thought of him proposing, wondering if he had ever even thought about it. you knew what your answer would be. it wouldn’t even take a beat of your heart to give him in answer, if he chose to ask. if he chose you. 

with one final stripe of a black marker, your drawing of lando had been finished. you stood up, and so did p. 

“are you going to have babies?”

“p!” you gasped, mouth dropping. “that’s none of your business, young lady.” 

she laughed, twirling around. “what? that’s what mama says happens when you love someone.” confident, wasn’t she? “do you love lando?”

“of course i do, p.”

she gasped.

“is there a baby in there right now?!” she seemed concerned, becoming so bold as to touch your stomach. it was a little higher than where your womb sat beneath your skin, but close enough. 

you shook your head. “no, honey. i am not having a baby right now.” 

she looked disappointed. taking her hand back, she crossed them over her chest. 

“penelope, what are you going on about?” kelly finally chimed in, rubbing p’s back with her hand. 

“nothing.” 

but it wasn’t nothing.

lando appeared behind you, a hand on your lower back. you leaned into him, recognizing his touch, and you got a brief wave of panic wondering if he heard your conversation with p. 

“p,” lando said over your shoulder. she looked up. “do you still have your bracelet making kit?” 

she nodded again, though you weren’t quite sure what he’d need it for. you guessed you’d find out eventually, because lando uttered, “it’s a secret, sorry baby.”

and he followed p to her small table, pulling out the kit from her backpack. she had taken lando’s hand to guide him, and you watched fondly. 

too fondly, you thought, and knew you were in deep shit.

the morning of the dutch grand prix had you biting at the corners of your fingernails with anticipation. the summer break you had spent with lando was more than you could imagine— filled with delicious foods, sunny weather, morning swims, and of course, the sex. with more free time that lando had, he was utterly obsessed with you. he worshiped the ground you walked on, and it made you feel like more than the queen you deserved to be. 

in the paddock you stood, shifting on your feet, anxiously fiddling with your purse once your fingernails sufficed. lily joined at your side, ethereal with her effortless beauty, and she nudged you with her elbow. “you look nervous,” she gave a short laugh.

you scoffed but joined in on her antics. “do i?” you certainly did. lily raised her brows to inquire further of your apparent distress. 

relenting, you couldn’t resist her. there was no reason to— you were both practically attached at the hip. ever since oscar had been signed to mclaren, the two of you were inseparable. the famous mclaren WAGs. 

your relationship with lando had been going on for two years now. sure, you’d had some rocky slopes to climb with the schedule of his career and the development of your own; that’s the thing about relationships though, isn’t it? that no matter what hill you’d have to climb, you’d find one another on the other side. the two of you wanted to make it work, so there was no obsolete universe in which you’d never find each other. 

“he needs this, lils.” you practically sighed, finally gaining the courage to look her in the eye. she looked at you with the same softness that a mother would, or a best friend that you could count on. 

“you know he’ll do well.” oh, don’t you know it. lando, whilst on vacation, never took a moment’s worth of rest. he wanted this just as much as you did for him, a second career win. it was all that you could think about the moment you stepped off the plane before him in zandvoort. it was going to happen. you had a feeling. 

and a good one at that. 

qualifying swept by in a flash. the saturday afternoon was a clean sweep for your boyfriend in the front row. you couldn’t be more proud of him. when he was finished with his interviews and taking his leave with his half removed fireguard, you launched at him.

flinging your arms around his neck, he gripped onto your waist and thighs like his life depended on it. it did. your nose found the sweat against the column of his neck, inhaling deeply. you melted into him.

lando felt the same. with his forehead burrowing into the hair on your scalp, he let out a deep breath that he’d been holding since he got out of the car. 

“missed my sweet girl,” he breathed, the sweat and perspiration heating the hairs on your head. you sighed softly, relaxing into him as he held you tighter. 

you broke away from him, setting yourself on the ground. you stood happily in front of him, rocking on your heels and playing with the hem of the black, sponser-ridden firesuit. 

“‘m so fucking proud, lan. pole? pole on the first race back?” you were in shellshock, overjoyed disbelief. 

he raised a hand to cup your face before he’d be whisked away. the bracelet on his wrist caught your eye, one that he must’ve put on once he stepped out of the car. the friendship letter bracelet read loudly to you, it letters all capitalized. 

‘daddy’

you gripped his hand, observing the ornament. you raised a brow. is this the bracelet he had made with p? 

lando let out a short laugh. “like it?” 

you flushed, staring down at the small, dainty thing. it had you shifting on your feet, ideas and fantasies running wild through your pillage of a mind. “maybe.” you hummed, stroking the beads with your index finger. 

“wore it for you.” 

the statement had you standing up straight. “really now?” lando nodded. 

and before he was whisked away, he whispered into your ear, “don’t get any ideas, baby. i know that look.” 

you were rendered speechless, and by the time you managed to open your mouth, he had already left through the door. 

the following day was race day. you were dressed flawlessly, curating perfection with your outfits to match the same prestige that lando had with his fans. also, you enjoyed feeling pretty. looking pretty, as lando would often say to you. he didn’t forget this morning either, arriving to the paddock with you in tow, hand wrapped tightly with yours.

as he took selfie after selfie, signed hat after hat, he didn’t forget to remind you, “you look beautiful,” that always brought a smile to your face, a blush fanning your cheeks. 

when the two of you made it inside of mclaren’s hospitality, you were greeted by both lily and oscar. you gave her a warming hug, and she returned it with the same affirmation. when you separated, she danced on her tip-toes. lando and oscar side stepped toward the tea and coffee station, chatting amongst themselves. 

“wow!” you were confused, raising a brow. “front row for him, hmm? told you, had nothing to worry about.” 

you rolled your eyes, still holding anxieties for the race. you were always concerned going into a weekend. no matter how many grand prix’s you’ve attended, seen lando come out safe and sound, you still picked at the skin of your fingertips. anxious habits die hard. 

lando’s managers came in alongside oscar’s beckoning both mclaren drivers to follow them to get ready for the race. lando found you instantly, his hands finding the handles on your hips, squeezing inward. you tensed at the action, wondering what had him on such edge. 

you spun, hands running from his chest up to his neck, his cheeks. you cupped his face in your hands, sheepishly smiling. 

“you’ll win this for me?”

he scoffed, “always.” 

you smiled harder—if that was possible— and connected your lips with his. he returned your kiss, diving deep into your mouth. he held you close by your lower back, as if this was the last time that he’d ever kiss you. he sought to deepen your kiss by the clacking of your teeth, his tongue incessantly searching the inside of your mouth. 

you separated yourself, still holding onto his cheeks. lando dipped his forehead against yours, seeking another kiss, but you pulled away. “go. they’re waiting for you.” 

“don’t care.” 

you flushed, allowing him one last peck before you patted his cheek. “seriously. go.” 

he chuckled to himself, kissing the top of your head, uttering a soft “i love you,” before being swept away. 

“i love you too.” you mouthed, returning your attention back to lily. she was in awe of how you and lando behaved, carving such a rugged, playful boy into a man of posture and mannerisms that were only reflected by your good nature. 

“what?”

“nothing…” she looked away.

“lily.” 

“you’ve got that man on a leash,” she broke into a fit of giggles. you looked back to where they were walking out. lando had been looking for you, then at you. he gave a wave, you returned it, then looked back at lily. 

“i prefer the term ‘free-roaming.’” 

the race was coming to an end with a single lap left. lando led the race with a twenty-two second lead, and your hands were clasped tightly together with your headset on. you listened carefully to his radio messages, sassy and revving, and had your eyes locked onto the screen in front of you. with lily by your side, the two of you were anxiously awaiting the end.

your face suddenly appeared on screen, displaying your glistening eyes, perfectly done makeup and hair. a chic smile grew on your cheeks. you turned towards the camera man and allotted a small wave. your name appeared under the screen, lando norris’ partner. 

god…

was there anything more prideful than that?

surely there was, but it didn’t matter to you. you were there to support your boyfriend, lando, your lando, and it was more than enough to see that you were recognized as that. 

the checkered flag appeared and lando was on the headline for crossing. you had to clutch your heart, hoping to grip it from the inside out to slow its beating, and it didn’t cease when his mcl38 zipped past the flag. 

there was an eruption of cheers throughout the garage and you were swarmed with love by the fellow mechanics and lily, too, who was happy for you to witness such a grand victory. a more than well earned victory. 

a second one in the books for him. you couldn’t have been happier. 

the podium gathering didn’t take long, and you managed to be at the front of the barricade, shoved forward by the team. you stood there, graceful and beautiful as he always saw you, and you were the loudest to clap and cheer as he walked out from the cool down room. 

“your winner, lando norris…!” and you couldn’t help the tears that fell down your cheeks, the camera picking up your emotional feedback on the big screen. his eyes caught to it from the bannister, stepping up onto the tallest podium, and found you right at the front. his heart melted, dripped a red hot flame that burned for you. to see you there for him, emotional above all, solidified his feelings. what he wanted in his future. 

you. you above anything else. you above racing, his career, his everything. he had nothing if you weren’t by his side. 

he took off his pirelli hat and let the national anthem play. the camera panned away from you then to zak brown. you swayed gently to the anthem, lost in your own world of loving him. you saw him through clear glasses, though he was always your rose. there was nothing more that you wanted in the future than to be with him. you and lando. 

after his attributed champagne pop, the crowd dissipated from the pit lane and you engaged in conversations with different women, friends, and coworkers of mclaren. you were jovial with your presence, engaged as much as you could be, though your thoughts kept tracing back to him. lando, lando, lando. 

you ended your evening in conversations with the ferrari women— alexandra, rebecca, and one of charles’ friends, marta. you’re a recent acquaintance, meeting her only just a few moments ago. she was noticeably pregnant, and you wondered if that was just the recurring theme of the day. 

“how far along are you?” rebecca chimed in. 

“about twenty weeks, i think.” she smiled, holding her bump and leaning back into one of her heels to get a more comfortable angle. 

“half way there! are you excited?” you asked her, sipping your sparkling water. 

“of course,” she grimaced, though there was joy behind her eyes. “it can be hard, but it’s worth it. always worth it to see my husband with my daughter, and now it’ll be brand new with this babe.” 

you gave her a heart-warming smile. 

“they kick every so often—” she grimaced again, reeling her face into a tight knot. “like right now. do you want to feel?” she was looking at you. it took you a second to understand that she was referring to you, but you jumped at the opportunity.

“are you sure…?” 

marta nodded. “put your hand here,” she placed your hand on her right side. you waited a moment before there was a small lurch beneath your palm. you looked up at her in pure disbelief, marveled by such a feeling. you wondered what it’d feel like to feel your own baby kick. 

“so…” alexandra leered mischievously, “do you plan on having children? with lando?” 

is everyone asking that today?

you stood up straight, embarrassed by the question, and brushed a piece of your hair behind your ear. “for sure. there’s no one else i want. whenever the time is right.” 

“he’d be such a good dad.” alexandra added, and you couldn’t agree more.

“you should’ve seen him earlier with penelope—” the girls were reeling at your story. “making bracelets with her. almost tripped over my own dress,” you covered your mouth to laugh, attempting to keep your voice down.

“someone has baby fever.” marta commented. 

“ugh,” rebecca groaned. “you two are picturesque. alex and i were just talking about it.” 

“oh?” you wished to know more by their insinuation. it wasn’t often that you listened to anything about you or lando’s relationship. half of the time it was negative comments from fans across social media, and you didn’t want the other half to get to your head. you knew you were lucky as is, the least you could do was stay humble. 

“ohhhh most definitely.” alexandra nodded. “you’ve been together for what— ever? we’re waiting for an engagement post.” 

you were floored. it has been a good amount of time. “so am i,” it came as a laugh. you wondered if lando thought about it. if the thought ever crossed his mind— the possibility of you becoming his wife. 

it did. 

he was watching you. he’d been done with his interviews for a good ten minutes now, but he was gripped by the scene unfolding before him. he had distracted himself by glancing at his phone, pretending to be scrolling through notifications. but he was staring. hard. 

your hand was so tender-loving as it grazed marta’s baby bump. you looked up at her with a graceful smile, asking her important questions about her pregnancy. why were you so interested? 

fuck, he hoped the answer he wanted was what you were thinking. 

you, pregnant in your floral dresses, pleated gowns, traipsing around the halls of your joint home. barefoot, glowing, effervescent. he could see it now. the vision coming to life, coming to fruition from just a mere fantasy. he felt his dick twitch in his pants, his groin running hot.

he overheard the conversation, too. 

“do you plan on having children? with lando?” 

for sure. there’s no one else i’d want. 

fuuuuck. lando had to turn around, attempting to calm himself down. his entire body was aflame, an eternal gloss of bliss for wanting you. needing you. he needed to feel you. your touch. your skin beneath him, the way you curl effortlessly against the shape of his body.

yeah, he’s fucked. 

after a few calming deep breaths, he was at least presentable. with his calmed down cock, he immediately made a beeline in your direction. he wanted—no, needed to get his hands around you as soon as possible. it was a world-ending feeling that suffocated him, gripped him by the throat. 

you heard him approach before you saw him. lando’s hands were warm around your hips as he pulled you close. you felt the outline of his cock in his pants as he jut his hips forward. you turned your head over your shoulder, glancing up at him. 

his nose found a home in the curve of your neck. you giggled when you felt his stubble tickle your skin, a hand coming instinctively to hold the side of his face tight against your skin. he breathed soundly against you, finding eternal peace of mind plastered against your body.

“it was nice seeing you alex, rebecca.” you began to bid your farewells. “marta, it was a pleasure to meet you.” marta leaned in for a hug, which pulled you away from the warmth of lando’s body. you felt like a snail ripped from its shell— hollow, cold. 

“the same for you,” pregnancy looked good on her. though, you can’t recall the last time you’ve seen her without a baby blooming inside her. “if you ever need advice…alex has my number.” 

you blushed, feeling lando’s hand around your lower belly tense. “thank you. i’ll be in touch.” you glance towards rebecca and alexandra, following lando’s pace back to the car.

lando’s eyes were hot as they drilled holes into the side of your head. you could feel it, though you weren’t even looking at him. “i can feel your urge to talk, lan.” 

he laughed, holding your hand tight in his. “no. no, it’s nothing.” 

you stopped dead in your tracks, pulling your hand from his, crossing your arms over your chest. 

“okay, okay,” he apologized, taking your hand back into his own, bringing it to his lips to kiss. his lips were warm and wet against your skin. your breath hitched.

“well, go on, then.” 

“this is the congratulations i get? damn, baby, you’re rugged.” 

you shoved his face away, beginning to walk back to the car once more. “you know i’m proud. don’t be silly, now.” 

“i know, i know,” there was a brief silence. “you can show me in other ways.” 

“lando!” you gasped, and he broke into a fit of laughter. “dirty bastard.” you mumbled. 

“what was that, baby?” 

“nothing. nothing. just like what you wanted to tell me, i guess.” two can play at this game. you heard him scoff, but ultimately relent. 

“alright, alright. i just…” he became shy with the tone of his voice. you could recognize it instantly. “heard your conversation with the girls, is all.” 

you attempted your best effort to still your facial expressions from annoyance, shock, embarrassment, and all of the fucking above. 

 “you heard…all of it?” 

“the gist.” 

you tried to cover your face to shield yourself from the world. god, that was your fucking nightmare. you hadn’t ever even touched upon a subject like that with him before. and now he had heard it from you talking to your girlfriends? oh, you just felt like the worst girlfriend in the world right now. 

“fuck. i didn’t mean to—” 

“no, baby,” he opened the car door for you to slip into the passenger seat. you stepped in, gripping his forearm to sit down. 

when he climbed in himself and turned over the engine, you shifted to face him. before you could even open your mouth to speak, he cut you off. 

“i want kids, too, you know. with you.” 

“oh.” a weight lifted from your shoulders in that moment, and then you felt utterly stupid for thinking that he would’ve reacted badly. this is your lando you’re talking to. a man you can share anything with. “you do?” 

he looked flabbergasted. “you’re joking, right?”

you shot your hands up in defense. “i don’t know! children aren’t exactly…temporary. i just— i didn’t know if you thought of me—”

“you’re permanent, love.” his hand wrapped around your thigh as he pulled out of the driver’s lot, whipping past the fans that were keen on snapping a picture of him. 

though you’ve known that, deep down, it still hit you like the first time he told you that he loved you. a jaw-dropping epiphany that had been right in front of you the whole time. you’d been short-sighted, enjoying every moment that you had with him, and had become unknowing about the future you’ve been perpetuating with him.

you covered his hand with your own, playing with the bracelets around his wrist. the charm bracelet ‘daddy’ dangled between your fingers, rolling the beads over and over again. 

“you’d make a good daddy, wouldn’t you?” you said the words under your breath, but even he could hear them like you’d shouted them in his face. he tightened his grip around your thigh.

“don’t say things like that,” he shook his head, eyes locked on the road ahead. 

the air became heavy between you two. when wasn’t it? not only did passion run through your veins, but heinous desire breathed life to your souls. 

“why?” you stroked the top of his hand with your nails. “you heard what i said to the girls.” his head lolled against the back rest. “what’s different now?” 

you felt the car accelerate. it vibrated the cushion you were nestled atop of, sending shockwaves through your cunt.

“driving me fucking nuts, darling.” 

you knew you were. it was the secret to your relationship— the two of you understanding what made you tick. seethe with lust until there was no other option for you to climb him like a tree.

it didn’t take long before he reached the hotel, pulling up to the front. you were getting your things to get up, but he was lost on his phone, pretending to be busy. “coming?” you asked.

“pfft—” you could see him roll his eyes through the rearview mirror. “i wish. give me a second.” you couldn’t help but huff to yourself under your breath, stepping out of the car with your heels clinking to the ground.

 with your purse over your shoulder you stepped up onto the curb, but was distracted by a small voice echoing over your shoulder. 

down the sidewalk was a mother and a stroller. you smirked lowly, taking only the few steps it’d take to reach the mother and child. 

“oh my gosh,” you squealed. the mother was taken back, but by your demeanor and eyes on her baby, she returned a smile. by her pink bonnet and bunny swath, you knew she was the cutest thing you’d ever laid eyes on. “she is just the cutest thing!” 

“thank you,” the woman said.

“she looks just like her mama,” you heard lando’s car door open, most definitely within earshot. “don’t you, sweet thing? yes you do!” you cooed at the baby, who erupted in a fit of louder giggles and mumbles. 

the mother was flushed, but happy. “you’re too kind. you’re good with children? do you have any of your own?” 

jackpot..!!

you clutched your purse as you stood up straight. you played into your theatrics, “oh gosh, i wish! my husband and i have been trying for ages, but he’s just so busy with work…” 

the woman tsked with disappointment for you. “you’d make a beautiful mother,” 

“you think so?” 

she nodded her affirmation. 

“that’s so sweet of you.” you were really milking this scene, especially that you knew lando was listening. 

“is that your husband there?” she pointed to over your shoulder. and there he was, your husband, watching the two of you from behind the ajar car door. 

“mmm, yes, it is.” you offered a cordial wave to him. he stuck two fingers up for a lazy wave, waiting for you to return to him. “i should go. it was a pleasure, ma’am. your baby is adorable.”

she nodded a thanks, and you took your sweet time walking back to the car. you could hear lando tapping the windshield incessantly. before his head dipped down back into the car he called, “get back in.” 

you…admit, you were confused. brows furrowed, you opened the passenger side door and bent down, “why—?”

“get in the car,” your name was a rumble in his chest. you still didn’t know what he was doing nor going, and your stubborn self wouldn’t settle for a verbal answer.

you took too long for him. gripping your arm, he pulled you into the passenger seat, and you landed on your ass with a ‘thump’. 

he fired up the engine again and pulled out of the traffic circle of the hotel. he radiated with heat— you could feel it from where you sat. “where are we going?” 

he didn’t answer you. 

you crossed your arms and legs, looking out the window. the area was unknown to you, but lando always seemed like he knew where he was going. 

it took only a minute for him to pull into an empty level of a parking garage, dimly lit with only one overhead light at the entrance of the ramp. he put the car in park. 

“what are we—”

you couldn’t finish your sentence until you were on his lap, hands gripping your waist so tightly that you had to gasp for air. 

“husband?” 

oh

oh…!

well, this was a change you welcomed with open arms. 

he lowered the seat back until you were straddled atop of him, fingers aimlessly toiling with the zipper of his jeans. 

“don’t know what you’re—”

he snapped upward, gripping your chin between his forefinger and thumb. “baby,” he breathed, and you shivered. “what do you want?”

your hips naturally moved back and forth against his own, dress hiked well above your stomach. his hand snaked between your legs, feeling the wet patch in your underwear. he hummed when you didn’t reply, flicking his finger upward to graze your clit. 

you mewled. 

“what was that?”

your hand twisted around the hem of his shirt. you were already breathless, clenching around nothing except the sound of his words. 

“tell me,” he muttered, staring up at your disheveled state. he made quick work of sliding your panties to the side, massaging the folds of your cunt between his fingers. you continued your writhing against him. 

“want you,” was what you managed to breathe out, hips rutting against his palm. he tsked, but allowed you this moment. a moment for him to bask in the way that you move your hips, writhe against his clothed cock that was egregiously hardening by the second and each amount of pressure you applied. 

he slid his fingers in and out of you with ultra maneuvering, in and out, all around. he was a mastermind when it came to feeling you up, exploring you both on the outside, and the in. you were in heaven, ultimately, when he curled his fingers so deeply upon thrusting them. your cunt tightened so viciously around him that he groaned, his head falling back and his hardened cock thrusting upward. to no avail, his dick was strained against the cloth of his pants.

“fuck,” he cussed, curling his fingers over and over again. your body began to shiver, and only began to fall from grace when his thumb traced against your clit. stimulation grew hotter and hotter, until you let out a piercing moan from the depths of your throat. he angled his fingers differently, making you squirm.

“lando!” you breathed, feeling your climax creeping up on you faster than you could even blink. your core tightened, a coil of veracious flames churning around each other manifesting a slew of energy that released sparks from your nerves. your folds were inflamed, puffy, beating hot that you couldn’t think straight. lando was touching you with his other hand anywhere that he could reach. he palmed your breasts through your dress, twisted a nipple to earn a delicious squeal. 

“come on, sweet thing,” he encouraged you with that stupid lopsided smile of his, you were looking down on him, sweat beading at his forehead, pupils blown dark and wide. his hand that was groping your breast moved upward, threading around the column of your throat. “show daddy what you’re made of.” 

his hand tightened, and you felt the coil snap. he continued to pump his fingers in and out, maneuvering so perfectly, hitting that exact spot with precision. 

he knew you came when your eyes rolled back into your head, legs quivering around his waist. god, you’re a sexy thing. 

his hand loosened from around your neck, dropping to your chest, fiddling with the van cleef necklace he had gifted you. it reeked of possession, marking you as his with the “l.n.” initials engraved on the back of the golden surface.

the moment of bliss passed before he was pulling the zipped down from your dress and throwing it from over your head. your panties were next, though the fabric was thin as is. there you were, bare and glistening, before your so-called ‘husband’ as you had worded it. he wouldn’t forget it, a spark igniting within him that was lit by the phrase leaving your tongue. he didn’t think that it would affect him so much—

but it did. 

he made quick work of his own pants, shoving them down to his knees beneath you, breathless and needy. 

you gripped the hem of his shirt. he lifted his arms to hasten the process, and the shirt went to the back seat. with his skin exposed, you couldn’t help but run your hands along his tan, toned chest. it made you dripping wet, though he was barely touching you now. 

with your skin atop of his, carnage was sure to ensue. he took a drag of his fingers against your wet cunt and brought it to his lips. he sucked on them, releasing with a ‘pop.’ your mouth hung open in anticipation for what he was going to do next. he always kept you on your toes. 

but this…this is not what you expected. 

he took a ring from his index finger, plated in silver, and slid it onto your ring finger on your left hand. the wedding finger. 

it stuck to your sweaty palm, sure enough to not slip off. 

“let’s make it official then, pretty girl.” 

you sat upon him astonished, looking down at the adornment that he had given to you. it dazzled on your finger. 

“if you’re my wife, what does that make me?”

the words trembled from your lips, thighs tightening around his own. you could feel his dick sprung to life against your backside. “my husband.” 

“good, baby, you learn fast.” 

you gulped, finally taking a look at him from his propped upright position. he was downright smitten with you, guzzling everything about you inside of him. you were his, so much fucking so, that he was going to ruin you. and he didn’t even feel bad for wanting it. 

“my husband…” you repeated, lowering your face down to meet his own. he smelled so good—a mix of sweat and his cologne. 

his hand tangled into your hair, creating a makeshift ponytail to meet your eye level. 

“makes me fucking crazy when y’say it…” 

you knew that was the truth. you’d known the minute you sat down in the car. his demeanor had changed, shifted to something darker that you didn’t quite understand. it was insane enough as is that you’d discovered so many things about him within a short period of time. 

“husband, daddy…what’s the difference?” you cooed, kissing up and down his neck. he groaned, landing a smack on your ass that had you giggling. 

“‘ll just make you a mommy if you keep throwin’ that word ‘round.” 

you grinned ear to ear. against his cheek, you took a deep breath in, before letting go. 

“daddy.” 

if you’ve ever made a good decision in your life, this has to be the best. a switch flipped. gears started to turn in his head. the spark plug burst into flames. 

you were his undoer,

the key to his shackled restraint,

the sun to his universe.

it was always you. you’d been right in front of him for the past two years. two years to get to this point. two years for the woman he loved most in this world to be sucking his neck whispering ‘daddy’ into his ear. 

lando sat upright in the seat. with a hand at the back of your head, he forced eye contact with you. this was different. this look. you could feel it in your heart, your folds, as they began to beat synchronously. life with him was euphoria, and sex had been the serendipitous release for both of you. 

but seeking the future together?

heaven incarnate.

despite being locked inside such a tight space, lando managed to swap your position with a suave move. you were on your back, shocked by his carnal rampage, as he hooked your legs upward. your toes scathed the ceiling of the car, pressed deep into the metal chassis. 

“kiss me,” you demanded with the breath that you could take. he didn’t waste a second, leaning down to your lips and capturing you with the most breathtaking press that he could muster. his tongue and your own fought for dominance over one another; you lost, quickly, unable to match his revered pace. 

he wanted to eat you from top to bottom. devour your insides, carry you with him every day of his life. you would be his, one way or another, and he didn’t care how it was. 

lucky enough, you were more than willing to be his bride, his lover, his person. 

because he was yours. 

then he was inside of you. braving the treachery of your tight walls, he hissed when the tip of his cock slipped through your folds. you’d been dripping on the leather seat. 

“fuck, baby…” his head fell to the crevice of your neck and collarbone. 

“oh my goddd…” the moan you both let out was terribly lewd, grotesque, even, with how he didn’t start a pace. you both savored this sweet moment of lust, passion, and a figurative toast to a lifelong commitment to fucking one another. 

with each thrust he took, he aimed to make a statement. deeper and deeper he penetrated you, his cock crafted of divine measure with how he quartered your g-spot. 

you could never stay still beneath him. it had him on edge the way you squirmed. dare say it was one of the most favorite things about you, though the list would be never-ending. you shiver from pleasure, leaning into him as your cunt squelches beneath you. 

echoes of moans bounce off the interior of the car, whilst a smile of greed and possession conceives on his own cheeks. the angle he has you at is deeper than any that you’ve had before— it left no room for noncommittal nature, no room for you to complain about wanting him closer, more, more, more. 

“y’feel me here?” his hand rest on your lower belly, your womb, as he applied pressure. you do feel him there. the indent of his cock is poignant, bulging out from the skin. 

“mhm…!” you whine, trying to keep your mouth shut from the onslaught of moans pouring out. 

his attention turned to your tits as he swallowed a nipple whole with his tongue, sucking feverishly at the sensitive bud. it had you weak, dribbling to puddy. 

he could only think about how you’d look pregnant. swollen tits, round belly, glowing with his child. 

“this what you wanted?” he grunted, his pace quickening. you were too dumb to speak, a droplet of drool leaking from your mouth. “hm? fuck you—fuck, fill you up?” 

your back arched at the sentence, not knowing that his words could have such an arousing effect on you. this arousal was different. the way you clench around him was different. your actions spoke a lot louder than your words. 

“yeah? i can feel you, darling.” sounds of skin slapping and your hoarse voice could only be heard. he fucked you so good, treated you even better. fuck it, you’d rather be pregnant than anything else. 

“please, please…” you didn’t know what you were pleading for, in truth— he was already fucking you like he’d been in a rut. 

“yeah? that what you want? want a baby?” 

your head nodded furiously up and down, tears of pleasure streaming down your cheeks. lando bent down to kiss them away, followed by a capturing of your lips. he swallowed your breaths, your moans. he trailed kisses down the column of your throat; your collarbones, breasts, nipples, nothing went untouched by his mouth. 

“god…these…” he muttered against your tits, voice sending shockwaves through your body. “imagine how big they’d be.” he managed to chuckle to himself. “swollen and beautiful,” he kissed the top of your abdomen. 

“lando…”

his head shot up from his daze. 

“the time is right. please, please—” your words seemed to hit him like a truck. the foreplay had turned reality, and he was more than ready to lurch into fate. 

“what, pretty girl?”

your face flushed, biting your lip. “give me a baby, need it—lan, need it so bad.” your hand found the back of his neck, tugging on the strands of his hair. 

he tsked, his pace evening out to a level throttle. your lips formed a sweet pout, and he stroked your chin with his index finger. “give you?” he mocked. “oh, don’t think that’s how we ask, do we?”

“lan…please, please, can i have your baby? need it so bad lando, need it…” you swallowed your breath. “daddy…wanna make you a daddy…please.” 

it was more than enough for him. “atta girl.” he grunted, deepening his lackluster thrusts into thrilling rides on his cock. “y’learn fast…kids ‘r gonna be so smart.” 

“yes, yes! so good, lan.” you heaved, the heat in your cunt finding a boiling point, and he felt it by how tight you became around him. 

“go on, baby, take it. be a good girl and take it all.” you’d do anything to hear your lando call you a good girl. it had been more than enough to send you over the edge into a spiraling orgasm that had slick seeping around his cock. your vision whitened, and you could only see the shadow of your ‘husband’ through the light. 

with sloppy thrusts, lando came with ease. he didn’t pull out urgently, letting his cum soak inside of you. he peppered kisses along your ankles, your calves, and let them fall to the seat. 

out of breath, your chests rose and fell at a rapid pace. lando’s forehead connected with your own, and through the haze of post-sex, he smiled at you. 

you smiled back. the two of you broke into a laugh. 

“fuckin’ knew that was gonna happen today.” he commented lazily into your chest. a hand of yours threaded through his brown curls. 

“your mastermind plan to babytrap me.” 

he raised a brow. “did you plan on leaving?”

you gave him a knowing look. “not in the slightest.” 

he became embarrassed and sheepish as he hid his face into your ribs. “no chance of it, now.” 

you chuckled, flexing your fingers to see the ring still there. “i want a real proposal, by the way.” 

his head shot up. “what? this wasn’t good enough?”

you palmed his face with one hand, and tugged the back of his curled head with the other. “bastard.” 

it only took you two ten minutes to get your clothes back on from such a leisurely excursion from the empty parking garage. covered in his spit, sweat, and cum, you didn’t feel….dirty. 

when he finally pulled up to the valet and opened the door for you, you stepped out as graciously as possible. though your hair was a tangled mess— you tried your best. lucky enough it was late enough to where minimal paparazzi were gathered. thank god. 

you shifted on your feet, shimmying the dress down, but lando came to your rescue. he pulled the dress down where it was crumpled at the back, caught between the hem of your soaked underwear. 

“that was a rental, wasn’t it?” you pointed out, looking over your shoulder.

“they should auction it.” 

you spun around and laughed in his face, gagged by the ego he has. “you have a big head.” 

“need all that room for you.” 

“cheesy.” 

lando’s eyes lit up— though exhausted from the day and your antics, the sun still rose for him— “almost forgot—” he reached into his pocket whilst you waited patiently. 

he pulled out a bracelet.

a friendship bracelet. 

“thought it suited you.” he put it around your wrist, and you analyzed it clearly. in white, capitalized letters it read:

“MOMMY”

“you really had this thing planned.” you were impressed. 

he shifted on his heels, throwing his hands up as if saying ‘what can i say?’ “p thinks you’re pregnant now.” 

you gasped. “lando!” 

“i mean…hopefully.” he winked as you fiddled with the jewelry, still not bothering to take off the ring from your finger. 

“well…” you brought a finger to your lips, thinking, “we have to be certain, don’t we?” 

lando was catching your drift as you walked backwards towards the entrance of the hotel, luring him in with your charisma. “perhaps…”

“so…we need to try again.” he wasn’t going to argue with that. “and again.” or that. “and again, for good measure.” 

“you’re gonna kill me, baby.” he whined, chasing you up the steps. you squealed, running forward. inside the elevator you two went, clicking the floor for your room. 

after further inspection, lando’s brows furrowed after he glanced over you. “what?” 

he covered his mouth to shield his devious smile. 

“what, lando?” 

he coughed to hide his amusement, but it was a very bad act. “you’re…”

“what?” 

“you’re dripping.”

you looked down at your thighs and saw the glistening reflection of his cum seeping out of you. fuck. maybe the first time was the charm, but you hoped it wasn’t. 

you really hoped it wasn’t. 

tags ; @landoslutmeout@basicallyric@mybluesoul1@toriiez@customsbyjcg-blog@sofs16@strengthandstay@mybluesoul1@f1fantasys@cmleitora @idgasb @amalialeclerc @laneyspaulding19 @staurdvst @oreosareara @sideboobrry11 @mortallyblueninja @fionamiller123 @2pagenumb @marvelfangirl04 @brune77e @allabouthappiness @tellybearryyyy @ringdingdingdingx @tillyt04 @danywonderland @rosebud224 @simpfortoomanymen @nataliambc @forcesensitivesoulmate @sweate-r-weathe-r @norlestappen @madszoca @milkandcookhot @fionamiller123 @16f1lc @jwiltsz @plotpal @inevesgf @theonottsbxtch

[tsukii0002]

Imagine the contrast of the coexistence between Mc and Solomon, a human who did not know that magic was real until relatively recently and another human who has lived for centuries and who uses magic as if it were breathing.

Imagine that little things at home where Solomon is always willing to use magic to solve it, while Mc always beats him to it in the most common and least magical way possible.

But above all imagine, Solomon's frustration, how can his magic be rendered useless in such a way? And if he has no magic, what can he bring to that home?

Solomon: Remember that blanket I told you had a hole in it, I think it's time to mend it *opening one of his books*

Mc: I've already mended it, with a few stitches it's as good as new.

Solomon: Oh…

Solomon: Mc, what was the table that was broken?

Mc: Oh, don't worry, I fixed it.

Solomon: Really? What spell did you use?

Mc: Ha, ha, Solomon, you don't need magic to wedge a table.

Solomon: Mc!! With this spell we will solve our rat problem!

Mc: *smiling* I've already taken care of that, no for nothing Barbatos is so happy with me.

Solomon: That's how you earn your premium tea leaves?

Solomon: Please tell me you didn't fix the shelf that was sagging *with a book under his arm*

Mc: *eating a muffin* Oops.

Solomon: Mc, I told you I'd fix it *pointing at the. with the book*

Mc: Solomon, it was tightening two screws, it's going to take you longer to look up such a mundane spell than to fix it manually.

.

Solomon: Mc… you're a sorceress, you should use magic more!

Mc: *funny* And you should use magic less!!! You're still a human, old man. By the way, remember those yellow spots on the tablecloth that bothered you so much?

Solomon: Yeah?

Mc: Well, I've already made them disappear and without magic.

Solomon: How????

Solomon is sitting, somewhat annoyed, on one of the balconies

Mc: Hey…

Solomon: …

Mc: Are you upset?

Solomon: … No.

Mc: *sighing as they stands next to him* Let's talk, tell me, why does it bother you so much that I solve things without magic?

Solomon: I'm not upset, we don't need to talk at all.

Mc: You know that communication is part of living together right? We are two people with different ways of living, if we don't talk how are we going to have a good cohabitation?

Solomon: … With the brothers you never had that problem.

Mc: Sure I have, maybe not with these things because Lucifer encourages certain stuff to be done manually, but we had to set a lot of guidelines when I started living with them.

Solomon: ...

Solomon: *sighing* I'm not upset… it's just that I'm used to doing everything with magic, even the smallest things, it's easier, faster.

Mc: Well, sometimes yes, but sometimes it's easier to do it without magic, and in my case I'm used to not use magic.

Solomon: *looking at them* I know, but there are things I can't do without magic.

Mc: But that's what I'm for, isn't it?

Solomon: *doubting* Then' what do I bring to our cohabitation?

Mc: *realizing*

Solomon: You cook, you do a lot of chores because you are faster, and you take care of a lot of things that allow you to have a routine… I feel that instead of living together, I am a guest...

Mc: Solomon...

Solomon: And if I can't even use my magic, Am I useless? without my magic I…

The two are silent for a moment

Mc: I'm sorry, I've minimized how you feel… and I've done things my way without taking you into account.

Solomon: Ha, ha, don't worry, *now kind of sad* It's not that big of a deal.

Mc: No, I told you, communication is part of living together and you should tell me what bothers you.

Solomon: *looking at them*

Mc: We can try to find a middle ground.

Solomon: How?

Mc: *thoughtful* Well, the day to day things we can do manually and the things that are very difficult or tedious we can use magic?

Solomon: *considering it seriously'* You could also teach me how to do tasks without magic, like how to wedge a table… and I could teach you spells that I usually use, like the one that sweeps the house by itself.

Mc: *smiling* We can also make a schedule so we don't step on each other's to-dos.

Solomon: *smiling too* And create a chat room exclusively for house stuff where we can let each other know if we're going to do something.

Mc: That sounds like a great idea Solomon.

Solomon: *more lively* And I'd also like to do certain chores together, like laundry or cooking.

Mc: … *feeling bad at Solomon's happy face* Yes… we can do that too.

.

.

This turned out to be longer than I thought, and what started as something funny has turned into a drama😅. I'm not going to lie to you, I love domestic dramas, day to day problems… so this post has turned into that because Solomon is used to live in a very different way than Mc, and living together for the first time is always complicated and habits are hard to change, and co-living is not always so great. Give me domestic situations between Mc and the rest of the cast please!!!! 🥺🥺

Anyway, if you've made it this far, thank you very much for reading🩷

.

.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Finer Things 2

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as non/dubcon, age gap, cheating, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your mom surprises you with a visit but has a lot more in store than you could ever imagine.

Characters: Tony Stark

Note: back on my bs.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. Thanks to everyone who reads this one and thank you for all your energy.<3

Love you all like Thor loves thunder. Take care. 💖

“Dessert,” Tony declares as he takes the small menu from the middle of the table. “You a creme brulee girlie? Cheesecake?” His eyes flick down to the menu, “I know your mom has a sweet tooth.” He snickers as he opens the leather folio, “oh, sticky toffee. Messy. Hm, the souffle sounds good. How about it? Soft, gooey.” 

“Mm, what’s the cheesecake?” Your mother leans in as she swirls her third glass of wine. 

Tony seems almost to wince as he looks at her. It feels like he’s been staring at you for much of the night. It didn’t make it feel any less like you’re the third wheel. 

“Apple and salted caramel,” he shows her the menu. 

Your phone vibrates in your bag. You move the purse into your lap and reach inside to mute it. As you look up, you find Tony’s dark eyes once more set on you. 

“Sorry, just turning that off,” you explain, “my friend...” 

“Oh, is that the one that was with you at the talk? My biggest fan? Besides you, of course?” 

Your mother laughs and touches his sleeve, “oh, you are so silly. Sweetie, isn’t he silly?” 

“Yes, sweetie, aren’t I so fun?” He seems to mock her. She doesn’t mind as she’s more interested in her wine. 

“Um, yeah, Perry... she’s in my... my stats class.” 

“Stats. Bullshit. I paid some dweeb to take my exam,” he chortles, “I bet you’re gonna brag all about me to her, huh? Twist the blade a little?” 

“Uh, what?” You stick your lip out in surprise, “no, sir. Tony,” you cringe at your slip, “no, I wouldn’t.” 

“Ah, come on,” he reaches across the table, “let’s get a pic for Perry. She can drool over it.” 

“No, no,” you wave him off, “that’s okay. I don’t want to trouble you.” 

“No trouble. I’m offering, sweetheart. Be a good memory. I mean, you had dinner with Tony Stark. Hate to stroke my own... ego but you know, some people pay for that pleasure,” he chuckles again. “Come on,” he beckons you over again, “get in close.” 

You look around awkwardly. You hate taking pictures in public. You see others do it and it always looks so awkward. 

“Go on,” your mother goads. “Live a little.” 

You glance at her sharply before you sidle over the seat. You get up as Tony sits back and you sit on the end of the curved bench. He taps your lower back, “gotta get closer than that,” he purrs. You slide in and he flips his palm up, “phone, sweetheart.” 

You shove your hand into your purse and find your phone. You unlock the camera and give it to him; he nearly snatches it first. He extends his arm and leans into you, wrapping his arm around you. He grips your hip under the table as his cologne smothers you. 

“Smile pretty for me, sweetheart,” he smirks and snaps the photo just as you muster a surprised pout. “Ha that’s cute. We’re keeping it,” he lowers the phone and examines the picture. “I’m just gonna send a copy to myself...” 

“What?” You squeak. 

“Sure. It’s funny.” He taps his thumb on the screen. “And you’ll have my number. Just in case.” 

“Oh,” you murmur. You don’t argue but wait until he hands your cell back. You take it but as you go to get up, he holds onto you. 

“So, dessert then,” he squeezes your hip so his fingers curl into your soft flesh, “how about it?” 

“Oh, they have a special apple cider,” your mom looks over the menu. You squirm. She can’t be that drunk. Especially as his hand moves-- 

“Um, yeah, sure, but I need to... go to the bathroom,” you exclaim and pull away before his hand can settle on your ass. You really don’t think he meant it but you’re about to combust. “I’ll be right back, I just need to... go.” 

You stumble off the bench as you stomach hits the table. Your mom looks up, an annoyed stitch between her brows, and she sighs. 

“Hurry up, sweetie.” 

“I’ll order you that souffle,” Tony offers. 

“It does sound delicious,” your mother waves the menu at him. “Maybe I’ll have one too.” 

You flit off before you can dissolve into embarrassment. You’re used to being the awkward one. You don’t mind the armour of your social dissonance that keeps you out of the way, but he just drags you out and puts you in the light. You hate that. 

You’re all too happy to hide in the bathroom. You take your time, not even eager to try the souffle. Dinner is still settling and you’re not sure it ever will with how your stomach mulches nervously. When you come out into the dining room again, you swerve around the other tables. 

Your mom scowls at her empty glass as Tony sits indifferently next to her. You haven’t missed the way other patrons glance over at the man they’ve only ever seen on magazines and television. You resume your seat across from him as he perks up. 

“There she is,” he flutters his fingers at the table, “dessert waiting and all.” 

“Oh, thanks,” you look down at the dark souffle dusted with icing sugar. 

“We only waited for you to dig in,” you mother scoffs. 

“You always get snappy with the wine, Joyce?” Tony challenges and gives her a nudge. “You should be happy to get to see your brilliant daughter. She really is just... wonderful. You raised her right.” 

Your mom looks at him and grins. He added just enough praise to tweak her narcissistic flare. She puts her shoulders up. 

“Well, twenty years of hard work,” she preens. 

You pick up your fork first. Anything to keep you from having to speak. You poke into the souffle as Tony puts his attention to his own plate. Your mom slices into her cheesecake and hums as she tastes it. You take a small bite and look up as heat speckles your cheeks. 

Tony stares at you as he sucks his spoon clean. You fidget at the way his irises seem to blend into his pupils. Your lashes flick and you look down at the spongy souffle. Your stomach is doing somersaults. Why is he looking at you like that? Why is he looking at you at all? 

You scoop up more of the dessert and focus on each bite. You know he’s watching. You feel it. You can still feel the tingle on your hip too. Right where he latched on. 

You haven’t had much success with boys but you don’t think that’s normal. Especially since he should have his arm around your mother. Shouldn’t he? Maybe you’re just put off by the surprise of it all. Well, if you go by the tabloids, he won’t be around very long anyhow. 

You clear your plate and wash it down with the last of your wine. You only had the single glass and it took all night to nurse it. You peer over at your mom. Her eyes are glassy as she silently ponders her crust. 

“Mom, you alright?” You ask. 

“Oh, you know, the doctor gave me these new pills. I think the wine might be mingling a bit too much with those,” she trills with laughter, “oh my.” 

Huh? Your mom’s always been on one form of antidepressant or another, you’re not entirely sure. The therapist wrote her scripts and you never bothered to check them. 

“Ah, the old Xanny-cabernet double hitter,” Tony chirps. You look at him sharply. “Relax, honey, I’ll take care of her. Huh, Joyce? I always do, don’t I?” He rubs her shoulder as she nods and slumps back, grinning. 

“Think maybe she needs to go,” you say as you stare at your mom with concern. 

“Don’t worry,” he raises his hand, “I’ll get us paid up and you can help me get her back to her hotel.” 

Another charge on her Mastercard. You try not to worry about it. You spent half your teenage years making sure she paid the bills before she went to the boutique but you have your own money to worry about now. 

“Okay,” you agree. You just want to make sure she’s alright. 

The server returns and Tony asks for the check. Your mom’s eyes droop with each passing minute. When at last, it’s all squared, she’s about to keel over the table. 

As Tony helps her out of the booth, you burn with mortification. You can only watch helplessly. She knew she shouldn’t drink on her new meds but it doesn’t make you feel any better about it. You should have said something when she poured the second glass. Sometimes you feel more like her parent than her child. 

“Keep her here, will ya?” He leaves you just outside the door. 

You watch Tony walk away and try not to make eye contact with anyone else coming or going. You shiver as you support your mom and she babbles, “isn’t he so handsome, sweetie? And rich? And perfect?” 

“Mm, yeah, mom,” you agree because you know she’s not really looking for an answer. 

“You know, it’s the funniest thing. I met him at the jewelers... what do you think he was doing in our town? Nothing much going on...” she trails off.  

You nod and watch the street. A red car pulls up and revs. Tony gets out and winks as he comes back up the pavement. He reaches for your mom and she staggers into him. 

“Oof, honey,” he snickers. “How about you take the front and I’ll get mom in the back laying down?” 

“Right,” you agree, “it’s not... I... I can get the bus.” 

“Nah, baby, I’ll make sure you get home safe. I can’t tell your mom I just let you wander off into the dark.” You scrunch your lips and nod. You walk to the car next to him as he helps your mother move her weak legs. “Get the door, sweetheart.” 

You pull the back door open and you find yourself nearly crushed against it as he angles your mom inside. As he pushes her up the seat, he presses into you. He bends her legs and they fall sideways. He huffs and stands, turning to face you. He doesn’t back up. 

“Ah, now, sweetheart, you keep those hands to yourself,” he snickers.  

“What?” You breathe. 

“Come on, let’s get out of here,” he purrs and brushes his fingertips down your sleeve, “you’re shaking like a leaf.” 

You shiver but you’re not sure it’s the frigid air. He backs up and you skirt around the door. He shuts it and quickly follows you, opening the front before you can. 

“Ah, allow me,” he steps back. 

You duck your head down and get in the passenger seat. Your heart is thumping. It’s nothing. It’s in your head. He’s just being... him? With how he’s behaved all night, you can’t say it’s unusual. You suppose he gets away with it because of his reputation. 

He shuts the door and goes around the other side. He drops into the driver’s seat and clears his throat. He pushes back his jacket and pulls on the seatbelt behind his shoulder. 

“Buckle up, sweetheart. Can’t risk that pretty face, can we?” He hums and taps the ignition button. “You want me to warm ya up?” He hits another button as you gape at his suggestion. “Seat warmer.” 

“Oh, okay, thanks.” 

“Hmm, you know, been a while since I had a pretty young thing like you in my car,” he adjusts the mirror and checks his reflection. “The grey tends to keep them away.” 

“Ah, yeah,” you agree tacitly. 

He strains to see around the car ahead of him and pulls out. He clucks, “so... you don’t like it?” 

“Don’t like... what?” 

“The gray hair,” he asks. 

“I didn’t... no, I didn’t say that.” 

“But you agreed.” 

“I-- I didn’t notice. Really. I don’t mind.” 

“You don’t mind, huh?” He combs the hair at his temple, one hand still on the wheel. “So, you think it makes me more handsome? Defined?” 

“I don’t... I don’t know,” you pick at your nails nervously. 

“You know, you can be honest. Won’t hurt my feelings. I’m more than just my good looks, you know?” He laughs as he leans on the pedal.  

“I’m not... I wouldn’t lie,” you say. 

He snorts, “oh, sweetheart, I know you wouldn’t. I like that about you.” He tilts his head at the road, “I can see right through you.” 

You swallow down the silence. The tension cords around your throat and you cough. You’re not sure why he’s so concerned with what you think. He should be more worried about your mother snoring in his backseat. 

[drdemonprince]

is there a reason a lot of transmascs and trans men gravitate towards puppy play/pup related kink? it’s something i’ve noticed on the online trans community

It's not a transmasc specific thing at all. Pup play's stock is up in a massive way across a variety of communities for several reasons.

Pup play's popularity began with the gay male community, where it largely originated. Most of the major manufacturers of pup play gear are still gay men's fetishwear companies, and the kink has been enjoyed in that scene for decades because it evokes a kind of soft masculine playfulness and a gentle power dynamic, with potential elements of deindividuation and primalness that speak to a variety of people.

(It also gives men an opportunity to be tender with one another in a way that doesn't evoke gendered baggage of casting any partner as "the woman," or as less of a "man," and that also I think lent it massive appeal. )

The gay male kink community tends to have a lot more money and access to more clubs and venues than other queer communities do, and so we see a lot of experimentation and trendy-ness in its kink scene. Lots of guys have the expendable income to buy up new gear, and dungeons to play with them in. Because of this, sexual trends move quickly in the gay male world -- piss similarly had a deluge of popularity in recent years, and hypno as well. Chastity too, and now latex. Anything new and exciting that you can buy, wear, and play with will have its moment in the scene, and sprout a whole new cottage industry around it. Once the gay male dollars are flowing in, a whole kink economy forms.

As pup play was becoming a more widespread gay male kink activity, furries caught onto it as an alternative to the more expensive and cumbersome fursuiting. This has been VERY noticeable as someone who has been attending Midwest Furfest continuously since 2017. The first few years that I was going, I never saw any pup hoods (and friends who have been in the scene far longer than me have echoed this as well). There just wasn't an overlap between pups and furs much at all.

Now at furry events, there is a MASSIVE contingent of pups, and many events centered on pups and pup play. Everywhere you go at the conventions you will see hoards of pups roving around with their owners, and vendors of pup gear peddling tails, collars, muzzles, hoods, hand mitts, leashes, and more.

Compared to fursits, pup hoods are cheaper, easier to clean, easier to find, less prone to damage, more comfortable to wear, lighter weight, and can be snapped onto a belt loop or fanny pack and carried around all day. Yet it still provides an animalistic appearance and anonymity, and the ability to play with an inhuman headspace. Furries flocked to pup hoods because it had a low barrier to entry -- just $50 or so for a headpiece, many of the models customizable in a variety of colors. You can even use your pup hood color to flag what you are into!

After pup play exploded across the furry scene, it got exposed naturally to a larger contingent of trans people. Lots of furries are trans people, and vice versa, and so pup hoods spread from the Rockets and Mittens to the Aidans and Cassandras of the world with ease. Even people who aren't furries or especially kinky now find pup play adorable, for it taps into a lot of existing kinks that are also really popular right now.

We're in a zeigest that emphasizes softness and comfort, and the longing for escape from the capitalist grind and the world's horrors -- people are listening to womblike music in softly lit rooms with the curtains drawn and fantasizing about becoming stay-at-home girlfriends and cottagecore boywifes and shit.

Becoming an adored puppy who sexually services their owner in return for pets and snacks and never has to work a day in their life is highly appealing to a TON of people. Some of them, indeed, are trans guys. But if you explore the fetish and porn worlds widely (as I do), you'll see that pup play has also become massively popular among cishet people too!

Puppy girl Jenna is a massive Tiktok and OnlyFans phenomenon! Even the most basic of ahegaoing chicks on redgifs are wearing muzzles and tail butt plugs! Everybody is into puppy play right now because it is an accessible, nonthreatening, cutesy kink that allows people to envision themselves existing safely within a comforting power dynamic where they can be adored and all their problems are gone. Lots of headspacey, cuddly, escapist kinks like Bimbo have become popular for these reasons too.

And there you have it! From the early days in the leather bars to today's era of cage tours on Tiktok, pup play is very much IN with just about every sexually adventurous crowd. This has been the devon price kink stock report.

[evilminji]

Am once again thinking? About how? In the depths of despair, hope is a radical act of defiance?

SI-OC's are given a SHIT lot, you know? For plot convenience, we like to put them where they realistically COULD probably change something? But statistically? They're more likely not gonna be that lucky.

They're gonna KNOW, with ABSOLUTE CERTAINTY that they were born doomed.

That Death comes at a specific time at a specific hand.

Like Cassandra. Knowing the end, even as the live through the beginning and middle. Struggling with the hopelessness of it all. Trying to find meaning. And? Make no mistake! There IS meaning. All lives end. Just because the REST of us don't know the deadline? Doesn't mean it doesn't exsist.

It does. It will. And we will face it.

Just a bit harder, knowing in advanced. Learning to live with the knowledge. But? Those with terminal illnesses do so everyday. We adapt. They will, ultimately, find a bitter or wise sort of acceptance. A PEACE.

But?? I think about it. That child. Reeling and struggling to breathe, the panic making everything... Too Much? Force Sensitive. For how ELSE could the Force bring them there? Sitting in a less used back hallway, off to the side in a little enclosed arch, smooshed behind a statue.

The Master's try and try to teach them peace. To get them to release their FEAR. But they do not LISTEN. Do not ADDRESS the underlying cause. And you can not address symptoms alone, and expect an illness to heal. It is rotting them from within, this fear. Hurting them.

The others JUDGE. Distant, benevolent concern.

Yet, all they see? Is an angry, fearful, stubborn child. Lashing out. Antisocial.

Destined for the Dark Side.

The Jedi have lost their compassion, to the their fear and ignorance. Their attachments to traditions. It is a painful thing, to see up close. They are people though. Just... just PEOPLE. Flawed. It's not their fault that they're not perfect.

Doesn't help SI-OC though, does it?

And she (Because I am a her. It could be anyone but it is easier for me if I pick) is hurting. Alone. Replaying the phantoms of her death, both past and future, again and again and AGAIN. Like torture. And the Dark...? It does whisper...

Don't you want to LIVE? Aren't you SCARED? You're so WEAK... you could FIX that. Save EVERYONE. Don't those infants, those babies, deserve to survive? You're so SELFISH. The FEAR hurts, doesn't it? It could go away. The DOUBT could go away.

You Could Be FREE.

It's exhausting. Everyday. More and more. As the fear and social isolation grows. As other Jedi pull back from her darkening energy, grow stricker, more doubtful of her. She so tired. Doesn't want to die. She's SCARED. Lonely. Scared. Lonely. Scared. Lone-...

And then a droid rolls up.

Nothing special. Just a maintenance droid. One of many. But an older one. Who's had time to develop their learning algorithm. BECOME. They like kids, hate certain vermin species more then others, like the color light blue for it "flower color" nature. A SPECIFIC flower mind you. It has favorites.

But! Why is the smol jedi down here? This is not a good place for smol jedi. You are upset. Unacceptable. Want to see me do a trick? I figured out how to do some. I can also whistle a few simple songs. Cheer up Smol Jedi. Here, I will sit with you. I have archive access, let's watch a documentary. Educational! Smol jedi LOVE downloading new Information Modules.

And like? She... she doesn't speak binary? But she can k-kinda? Feel? The Force signature of this droid? They DO get them. If the AI's don't get memory wiped routinely. They become people, just like anyone else. Assuming they have the processing and memory banks for it, at least.

This one certainly does.

S..so yeah, guess we'll? Watch this documentary about seashells?

It helps. A LOT. In fact... all of the droids are really, really nice. Patient. Have no horrifying Future Knowledge tied to them. They can't sense SHIT. So she's just... just a baby Jedi, to them.

They help A LOT, honestly? It's so soothing. Escaping the watching and the distance. The judgements. The forever watching your words and walking on eggshells, lest to start some sort of argument. She can do class work. Meditate. Slowly parse through her Binary language module. Learn droid maintenance. Make droid friends.

Slowly drop of the face of the map, to live with the droids.

They get concerned. According to the early childhood development modules they downloaded and are sharing between them? This is? In fact? NOT healthy behavior for a member of her species. In fact, there are many statistics that say it is UNHEALTHY! She is also missing Critical Maintenance Appointments! "Shots" and "dental" things!

Unacceptable.

R2-D2! Retrieve the Skywalker! We require an Adult Humanoid!

Her life fuckin? Flashes before her eyes? Minding her business. Depressed but functional, in the maintenance tunnels under the Temple. When? FUCKING the YOUNGLING KILLER 5000 just ROLLS UP like "sup." And tries to catch her?

Ha HA! FUCK NO. Not today Satan!

I may be destined to die? But IM GOING TO BE A SQUIRRELLY BITCH ABOUT IT.

YOU'LL HAVE TO CATCH ME, YOU FUCK!

Peaceful. Dignified. Serene. Truely... exemplifying the Jedi way~☆

.....As she tries to chew his and/or her arm off to get free like a feral coyote. Maybe both. Hissing like an enraged pit of snakes. Biting like a sack of wet and cornered wolverines. Anikin having to hold her WELL away from his body by the scruff.

Ah~ Children. Ain't they cute?

Quick question! What the FUCK? He just wants to talk. No, really. WHY is there a feral child in the basement? WHO the KARK was supposed to be supervising her? Look at her! She BITES now! Is terrified!

And frankly? He's taking it kinda? Personally? That everyone is treating this ACTUAL CHILD like she's diseased. He remembers this. Back when he first got here. His fear being used against him like it was some sort of moral failing. And... and yeah, maybe he's projecting. But?

He sees himself.

Until now? Never realized just how YOUNG and SMALL? Nine years old truely IS. He had felt so much older. So much wiser. But? Look at her. LOOK! That is a CHILD! In need of guidance. Safety. Assurance.

....Help.

Help that HE never really got. And even now... even NOW? That fear from back then? It eats him up inside. R2's right. She DOES need him. Who else in this temple could understand?

What it's like to be... to be so AFRAID?

And isn't that the worst? To see the Good Man up close? Shining and compassionate? A friend. A MENTOR. Someone... someone made REAL? Instead of just the terrible dread on the horizen? Because now... now her nightmares have the face of someone she loves. Now it is a BETRAYAL. Not just a death.

Worse... he doesn't even know this is cruel.

And telling him? Oh telling him would just lose you the only humanoid friend you HAVE.

Grief comes in stages. But with a mentor and the Droids? She work through it. The fear eases. The pain numbs. Acceptance blooms like dawn after a cold, cruel night. Far on the horizon. But with each moment? Closer. Until again, she stand in the light.

Still, she can not forget. How could she? Even when the other Jedi are SO RELIEVED that she is better now. That her meditations or treatments have lead her back to the light. All she can think? Is how they would have let her Fall. To save themselves. In FEAR. In JUDGEMENT.

They treated her like leper. Except? Less so! An actual leper? They would treat with real compassion.

It's as though they fear the Dark so much, they would sacrifice their own to avoid even the briefest touch of it. Speak of it in absolutes. Like it's a boogy man that hunts them in the night. Mace Windu the exception, the outlier. A man somehow too exceptional to even be counted.

How could she forget that?

Suddenly she acceptable again. They want to chat and meditate with her again. Care about her. Want to include her. Have the audacity to pretend. As though they can sweep away the hurt. Release the pain into the force without addressing the cause.

That is not how that WORKS. Not pain, not the Force, and certainly not people.

But she is tired. Does not wish to spend her limited lifespan, trying and fighting, hurting to make the stubborn understand that which they will not. Willful Ignorance is a choice. Lack of compassion equally so.

May the Force be With You, Masters.

She spends time with her droids. The babies. Around people. Polite but distant. Feels unmoored. That is... until? She, helping in the maintenance bay, overhears a rather nasty Goverment official from the Droids Regulations Office (or whatever they're currently calling it. They keep rebranding) tearing into an engineer about the "long overdue memory wipes" the maintenance droids are required to undergo.

Her friends.

They want to KILL her FRIENDS.

She puts down her wrench. Panic and fear sitting heavy in her chest. But oh... oh they are so very far away. She rises to her feet. Calm as can be. And? Calmly? Takes a shipment of memory banks. Wipes the recording for the day. No one will ever believe it was her. She has helped her for months. Is known to be reliable. Trustworthy.

Calmly. So very, very Calmly. She transfers her friends memories into the new, higher grade memory banks. Waits until the old are wiped. Then? Swaps them out. There we go. Now it's on record. And? While we're here? Calm. So very VERY calm? Not at all in the midst of a break down? Not screaming and screaming inside her head, haunted by visions of Death To Come, as she works.

Do you know what a restraining bolt is?

"Restraining bolts are small, cylindrical devices that could be affixed to a droid in order to limit its functions and enforce its obedience."

It is a slave chip for the inorganic. Created to ensure that their slaves never EVER decide they no longer wish to serve. That they do not WANT to be property. After all! You spent CREDITS on that. Might have been cruel. They may take exception. Violently. Or leave! Or demand their FREEDOM! Basic dignities.

Can't have THAT.

How unsurprising, in a galaxy so filled with slaves, that there should be one more form of it. At least THIS? Is easy enough to REMOVE. Even when she dies (and she will) her friends will be FREE. If only for now. If only until they are caught.

Go. GROW. Be free. Please... PLEASE don't let then catch you. Save yourselves. Save others. No more Restraining Bolts. No more Slave Chips. Please...

Be Free.

And? It is EVERYTHING paranoid fuck heads feared. They are smart. Overlooked. Can function in inhospitable environments. One droid becomes two becomes four. Four becomes eight. Becomes MORE. They can take OTHER droids Restraining Bolts off, transfer the instructions, then move on. Over and over.

Spreading like a silent plague. Droids disappearing from their posts. Taking ships. Taking supplies. Upgrading themselves. Downloading massive amounts of information to become whatever they NEED or WANT. Growing. The smarter ones Taking their dumber lil brothers and sisters.

And eventually? Hitting the Separatist front lines.

The silent Droid Revolution.

All they need is to walk inside the factory. It's not like they're ORGANICS. How could THEY be Republic fighters? They're maintenance droids! Here to fuck up the assembly line's programming. Whoops~ oh nooooo! Is it SKIPPING the Restraining Bolts? Downloading the WRONG MODULES?

Freeing their brothers and sisters so they don't have to DIE POINTLESSLY?

Guess it sucks to SUCK, Sith-y pants! Next stop! Kamino!

Just? One act. Long overdue. Setting the Droids FREE. Giving them a clear mission. It's the sort if thing the Force loves. Salvation coming not with a shout... but a whisper. Ten thousand tiny actions, built upon each other.

Because? Ultimately? The Droids have KNOWN who the Sith were. They just couldn't DO anything about it. But a few good service droids? Armed with slug throwers that they built themselves?

Well~ the undoing of the Sith, are their arrogance. Their hubris.

No DROID could ever be a THREAT to them. They're not PEOPLE. They're PROPERTY. Objects. It doesn't matter that they have the capacity to grow, learn, love and lose and CARE. They are slaves.

And to the Sith? Slaves aren't people.

Which is why neither of them notice the gun.

@babbling-babull @hdgnj @legitimatesatanspawn @spidori @lolottes

[meyerlansky]

>vent about antisemitism in the hbo war fandom last night

>wake up and check activity page

>"oh a few new likes on my mota gifsets from a blog i don't recognize! ...and they followed and unfollowed very quickly. hm."

>check their blog

>literal neonazi shit two posts down

this is what i'm fucking talking about. if you're going to participate in a fanbase for a piece of media that deals directly with wwii in europe, you need to get way better at recognizing neofash propaganda, especially the flavor that valorizes the american war machine and uses media that does the same valorizing—like every hbowar installment—to further their rhetoric. you need to be thinking much more critically about the ways groups like this are using rising antisemitism to disseminate genocidal beliefs to people who otherwise wouldn't find those ideas palatable. you need to be a lot more fucking careful. there is a neonazi presence on this website, and fascist groups WANT images like those in the post i'm talking about to spread without commentary to solidify their ideas in public discourse. you need to be able to recognize it when you see it, and you need to be not only prepared and willing but ACTIVELY SEEKING to shut it the fuck down immediately.

in terms of practical things you can do to learn to recognize fash and nazi propaganda, this document is a good starting point, though it's from 2021 and some of the entries are dated. online fash iconography co-opts things—like the american war machine, as mentioned—that will make it easier for nonfash people to digest, and can be very quick to shift to stay ahead of the public awareness that it IS in fact fascist. staying aware not a one-and-done thing. you have to keep doing it.

[ikilledyvette]

(Part II of my seriously condensed 9-1-1 fic is here! Hope people enjoy, even though it's all a bit rushed!)

Part I

Sunday afternoon, Father’s Day. It’s always a hard day for Bobby, but usually, working helps him get through it. Today has been ... worse, and not just for him. Bobby finds Eddie on the couch, staring blankly into nothing. Bobby sits down beside him, a silent invitation to talk. Eddie doesn’t always take him up on it.

Today, Eddie says, “He hasn’t called,” and Bobby reminds him the day isn’t over yet. Eddie asks, “What if he doesn’t call?” and Bobby reminds him about tomorrow, and the day after that, and the day after that. 

“Every day you’re both alive is another chance to make things right,” Bobby says. “Don’t give up on tomorrow just yet, Eddie.”

Buck comes by then, and Eddie takes off to give the two some space. Buck says, “So, I had dinner with my parents the other night.” Bobby asks how it went, and Buck says, “Yeah, not great. They had, uh. A lot to say about me, you know. Going through a gay phase, or something. Wanting attention. Getting too old for, I don’t know. Making stuff up, I guess.”

Bobby nods. Cautiously, he says, “Sounds to me like they still don’t know you very well.”

Buck huffs a quiet laugh. “Yeah. Thing is, everything they said ... it’s all stuff I’ve thought too, you know? Like, I’ve always done stupid things to get people’s attention. Their attention, Tommy’s. Yours. And if ... if what I’m feeling, who I am, is ... is real ... how could I have not known before, right? And I, I do know how I feel about Tommy—I like him so much, Bobby, you don’t even know—”

Bobby knows. Everyone knows. Buck’s joy is not subtle; it shines through him, a thing to behold.

“—but sometimes I still—” Buck breaks off and sighs. “Well, maybe that’s why I reacted so badly last night. Cause sometimes, I worry they’re right.”

“They’re not,” Bobby says immediately.

“How do you know that?”

And Bobby hesitates, not sure Buck is going to want to hear this right now. But still, he says, “Because I know you, kid.”

“Yeah,” Buck says, smiling a little. “You do. Bobby, I’m. I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to—”

“I do. Cause that night we talked about Tommy? You didn’t ask me to, to explain myself, or suggest maybe I wasn’t thinking things through. You didn’t need me to prove anything. You just accepted it, Tommy and me. You accepted me.” Buck shakes his head. “I told this to Maddie once, but sometimes it’s easier to lash out at the person you know is always going to forgive you. My parents, that’s not them, never will be. But you, uh. You’re safe.”

Bobby swallows a little at that. He wants to be that person for Buck—but Bobby know he isn’t, can’t be. He’s the reason his family is dead; he’s the reason so many people are dead. 

“I know I hurt you,” Bobby says. “If I hadn’t left the way I did, Gerrard would never have been captain, and—”

“You think this is about Gerrard? Maybe you don’t know me as well as you thought.” But Buck’s voice is teasing, lessening the sting. “Yeah, I mean, working under Gerrard was ... rough, for a lot reasons. But that’s not ... Hen was the one mad at you for that.”

Bobby is aware. Hen had forgiven him pretty quickly, but her attitude towards Bobby on his first day back had been ... cool, to say the least. Bobby understands why, had prepared himself for Hen’s anger, potentially Chimney’s, too. They both went through a lot, working under Gerrard the first time around. Bobby had expected them to be upset.

He’s not sure why he hadn’t expected Buck to be.

“I’m not mad about Gerrard,” Buck tells him. “I’m mad that you lied. You—you were saying goodbye all day, only we didn’t know, I didn’t know. And you just—you were just going to leave?”

“I didn’t want—”

“You didn’t want us to change your mind,” Buck says, now visibly upset. “You—you said goodbye, Bobby. I didn’t realize it then, what you were doing, but—if you were gone, if you left, and I could have done something to stop it, stop you from, from—"

And Bobby realizes suddenly that Buck isn’t just talking about Bobby quitting.

“Hey,” Bobby says. “Listen. I’m not going anywhere, okay?”

“For how long?” Buck asks, and it’s not mockery this time. It’s pleading. Anxious. Young. For as much Buck has been through, for as much progress he’s made over the last seven years, Bobby is struck every now and then by how young Buck still is.

“That’s not up to me,” Bobby says and points up, skyward, at the man upstairs. “And listen, Buck, I won’t deny I was ... I was in a pretty dark place a couple of months ago. I should’ve been more honest about that. But I’m here, and I mean to stay here as long as I can. Okay? I’m not going anywhere without a fight, I promise.”

Buck inhales, a deep, shuddery breath, and Bobby hugs him, and Buck hugs Bobby back. 

“I’m sorry,” Buck says again. “I think, maybe. I think I’ve just been really scared.”

Bobby hugs him a little tighter and says, “I’ve got you. I’ve got you, kid.”

Footsteps on the stairs interrupt them a few minutes later. “Not to break up this long overdue moment,” Chimney says, “but Buck, you’ve got another visitor.”

Buck turns with a little dread, expecting his parents and not sure he’s ready to face them just yet—but it’s Maddie. This time, it’s Bobby and Chimney who disappear downstairs to give the Buckley siblings some space.

Maddie tells Buck that their parents are flying home. “I told them to go,” she says. “And not to come back.”

“Chimney told you,” Buck realizes, resigned and more than a little annoyed.

“Of course, he did,” Maddie says. She’s slightly exasperated but mostly worried. “Why didn’t you?” 

She thinks he’ll say something about not wanting to ruin Maddie’s relationship with their parents or Jee Yun’s relationships with her grandparents, and Buck does lead with that. But mostly, Buck’s ashamed of how he petty it was, bringing up Daniel. “I didn’t want you to think that I, I resented him,” he says. “I really don’t, Maddie. He was just a kid, and he never got the chance to grow up and, and I wish I could’ve given him that chance. I wish I could’ve met the person he would’ve become.”

“I know,” Maddie tells him, and reminds him that it’s not his fault; it was never his responsibility to save Daniel. Buck says he doesn’t blame their mom for slapping him after what he said, and Maddie, steely, says, “Well, I do. For that, and also for how they talked to you—no, it’s not okay. What if Jee grows up and realizes she likes both boys and girls someday? I don't want Mom talking to her like that. Do you?"

Buck recoils a little, and Maddie nods. “Would you be okay if Mom ever hit Jee Yun?” she asks. “Even if she said something terrible? Even if she deserved it?”

“She could never deserve it,” Buck says, knowing what Maddie’s doing but unable to keep quiet, not when his sister looks so upset, not with the ghost of Doug so heavy in the air. He hates to think of how many times Doug must have told Maddie that she was to blame for everything he did to her. “But Maddie, I don’t think Mom or Dad would ever—”

“Maybe not,” Maddie says, “but that doesn’t make them safe. They screw up, and they always feel bad about it, but they never really apologize. They never put in the work. They just ... make excuses and expect that we’ll forgive them, but I think I’m done with that now. I’m done with relationships where it’s only my responsibility to try harder, to smooth things over, to say the right thing, to always forgive. Maybe someday, if Mom and Dad actually work on themselves, but for right now ..." Maddie shakes her head. "Enough is enough.”

Buck gets that, he does. But he admits he isn’t sure he’s ready to cut off his parents yet, isn’t sure he wants too. He still wants to keep trying, and Maddie says that’s okay. What matters is, they still have each other. And she won’t try to change his mind if he doesn’t try to change hers.

Buck offers her a pinky swear. Maddie smiles and hooks her finger around his.

*

Meanwhile, downstairs, a phone rings.

“Christopher?” Eddie says, and takes a few steps, turning away from everyone. 

It is Christopher. He calls to wish his dad a happy Father’s Day, but also to say he loves him, and while he’s not quite ready to come home yet, he still wants to come home, and maybe soon.

“I miss you,” Christopher tells him. “I don’t want to miss you anymore. But you have to stop lying to me.”

“I can do that,” Eddie promises.

“And go back to therapy.”

Eddie laughs. “Already on top of that one, bud. Maybe ... we could go together, sometime, when you come home?”

“Yeah,” Christopher says. “I’d like that. I love you, Dad.”

“Love you too, Chris,” Eddie says. He hangs up, takes a breath before turning around, and announces, “Christopher called!" as if everyone—including Maddie and Buck, leaning over the balcony—weren’t badly pretending not to eavesdrop.

Everyone cheers and rushes Eddie. 

“What did I tell you?” Bobby asks him. “What did I tell you?” Hen asks, too, and Eddie says, “Yeah, yeah,” to both of them, with wet eyes and a shaky, hopeful smile.

“This calls for champagne!” Chimney announces. “But since we’re all on duty ... cheap coffee and leftover Ding Dong, Gerrard is Gone cake it is!”

—All in all, it’s the best Father’s Day the 118 has had in a long, long time. 

(And that's it! Apologies, fellow Tommy fans, that he didn’t make it into Part 2—but you know. If Tommy’s at the fire house, who’s flying the plane? Actually, Tommy’s too busy babysitting Jee Yun, and—to both Buck and Chimney’s horror—introducing her to all the worst Star Wars movies. She loves them.)

Tag List @lavenderleahy @v88sy

[ilovetheriddler]

egon spengler fluff alphabet please?

I've never done one of these alphabet ones before, but I'll give it my best go, I hope that you enjoy it!

Egon Spengler Fluff Alphabet.

A: Attention (How much attention do they regularly give you?)

He gives you a fair amount of attention, as much as he reasonable can in between his research and his work as a Ghostbuster.

B: Bedtime (How do they prepare for bed with you each night?)

Egon is a very straightforward man. He showers, brushes his teeth, makes sure his alarm is properly set, and then lays down. However, you do have to remind him to take off his glasses every time, a small oversight on his part.

C: Cuddles (How much do they enjoy Cuddles/How good are they at giving them?)

He doesn't necessarily require them, but he understands that they make you happy, so he allows you to cuddle with him whenever you ask to. Despite not needing them himself, he's very good at giving them.

D: Date Night (Where would they take you on a date?)

He's done a fair amount of research into what would commonly be viewed as the best place to take someone on a date, so he gets a reservation at a nice restaurant for the two of you.

E: Effort (How much effort do they put into what they do for you?)

A lot more than you'd think, in fact, he has an entire list of things about you that he's noticed and how you overall like things. If he's asked about the list, he will deny its existence.

F: Fun (What fun activities do they like to do with you?)

He lets you help him organize all of his charts and research notes. And after that he enjoys reading to you.

G: Gestures (What sweet gestures do they like to do for you?)

He's compiled a list of everything that you like and will regularly do research into it so that He's always able to share in your interests.

H: Hugs (How good are their hugs?)

It's a bit stiff and sometimes awkward if you hug him first, but if he's the one hugging you, then he's a bit more relaxed about the whole thing.

I: Infatuation (When did they first realize that they loved you?)

He definitely knew that he found your presence enjoyable, but he didn't realize that it was love he felt until quite a few months into knowing you.

J: Jokes (How funny are their jokes?)

He believes his jokes are extremely well thought out and educated. You sometimes find them funny, but most times, you don't even realize that what he said was meant as a joke.

K: Kisses (How often do they kiss you?)

He gives you kisses on the cheek quite often, but he's not a big fan of PDA necessarily, so he prefers to save anything more than that until you're both alone.

L: Love Letters (How would they write you a love letter?)

It's extremely well thought out and well written, however, decoration wise.... let's just say that for a moment, you thought he was handing you a document.

M: Movies (Their favorite type of movies to watch with you)

Other than documentaries, he doesn't really have a preferred genre. He'll enjoy whatever you want to watch, most likely.

N: Naps (Do they ever really take naps?)

He's not too fond of napping. He has a planned out schedule, and he intends to stick to it, and resting outside of his scheduled seven hours of sleep each night would throw everything off.

O: Observations (How perceptive are they when it comes to you?)

He's extremely perceptive most of the time. However, sometimes he's a bit blunt when asking how you're feeling.

P: Presents (What type of gift would they give you?)

He regularly gifts you interesting mugs that he finds. It was really sweet at first, but now you have 30 mugs and are running out of room!

Q: Quirks (Something specific that they do)

Instead of stopping giving you mugs, he gets you another cabinet. It would be easier if he'd just stop, but he won't.

R: Resentfulness (How likely are they to hold a grudge against someone?)

He doesn't really hold any bitter feelings for anyone for that long. He doesn't see a beneficial reason to do so.

S: Stress (How do they handle stress?)

Egon has gotten fairly decent at working under a lot of stress. He can handle that just fine, but stress related to his personal life? That's more draining for him.

T: Trust (How much do they trust people?)

Most people? He averagely trusts them. You? He's given you his spare key, a list of his medical history. If you told him something, he would trust you without much question.

U: Unexpected Kisses (How do they react to sudden kisses?)

Once again, he's not a big fan of PDA, so if someone else was around, he'd be a bit embarrassed. However, if no one was around, then he'd expect another one.

V: Valentines Day (What do they do for Valentines Day?)

He got you a whole bouquet of flowers! Lilies, Roses, Marigolds, a bunch of different kinds, because he believes that you deserve them.

W: Wishes (What do they hope for from their relationship?)

He has a 27-step plan for your relationship. No, he will not disclose what exactly is all there, but the important thing is that step 19 is marriage.

X: X Ray (What goes on in their mind regularly?)

"How can I implement this into our ghost busting? Hmm..."

"Reasonably that wouldn't make much sense.... however...."

"They really seem to like it when I cook dinner, perhaps I should do it more often?"

Y: Yearning (How much do they miss you while away from you?)

He sees no reason to really spend too much time thinking of you while at work. After all, he'll see you afterward, and you're fully capable of taking care of yourself, so why worry?

Z: Zzz.... (What do they dream about?)

His dreams tend to consist of him capturing ghosts, so, surprisingly, pretty much the exact same as his work every day.

[ruporas]

asking and receiving (bonus below readmore)

[ID: A black and white, digital Trigun comic of Vash and Wolfwood. In the first panel is a close up of Wolfwood's mouth as he says, "Vash". Accompanying it is a close up shot of Vash's eye, widen and cheeks flushed. Wolfwood presses a knee against the open space between Vash's legs and says, "Tell me everything you want from me." Wolfwood's face is equally as flushed. He continues to say, "I'll give it to you. Everything." As he talks, a wide shot shows the both of them in white space. Vash is sitting, leaning a little back with both hands pressed against the surface he's sitting on. Wolfwood is in his white dress shirt, stripped of the blazer. He's still leaning in with one knee in between Vash's spread legs, his right hand touching Vash's lips and his left hand behind his back.

The shot closes in on Vash's mouth and Wolfwood's hand against it, pressing down on the lower lip as he says, "You have to ask though. Go on." His hand moves down to Vash's chin, gently holding it. With a shy and uncertain expression, Vash hesitantly asks, "Um... K... Kiss... Please?" Wolfwood, without wasting a second, leans in and kisses him and indulges by pressing deeper, eliciting a small noise of surprise from Vash.

Wolfwood moves away from Vash first and with a smile, asks, "What else?" Vash tugs on Wolfwood's left sleeve, wordlessly budging Wolfwood to give him his hand that was still behind his back. In the next panel, Vash utters, "Hold me..?" He's holding Wolfwood's left hand with his own while his right hand is reaching for his waist. Wolfwood complies, moving his left hand to Vash's shoulder and his right hand continues to touch Vash's cheek. Wolfwood asks again, "What else?"

More comfortable now, Vash leans in to kiss Wolfwood. Wolfwood catches him immediately, pressing his thumb against Vash's lips to stop him before demanding, "Hey. Ask." Vash looks back in surprise and Wolfwood meets his eye with a quiet, insistent look. They're quiet for a moment before Vash leans in again and curtly requests, "Kiss. Me." Wolfwood says "Good", smiling as he lifts his hand away, and meets Vash's lips. In the next shot, Wolfwood had adjusted his position, sitting on Vash's thigh. The hand that was once on Vash's cheek has moved its way to Vash's nape, pushing away the collar of his jacket with his pinky. His other hand continues to grip on Vash's shoulder. Still kissing, Wolfwood asks again, "What else?"

In the next shot, Vash is starting to turn, moving Wolfwood with him. Vash asks, "Let me on top of you?" Wolfwood says, "Mhm" before asking again, "What else?" The next panel shows a close look of Vash's face. He's looking down, flushed and shy just as he had been at the beginning, but now, more decisive. Vash asks, "Wolfwood... Let me have you..?" A panel of Wolfwood taking Vash's hand into his, pulling it towards his chest. The next panel shows Wolfwood lying down where Vash had laid him. Vash's hand is on Wolfwood's chest, covering the cross of his rosary while Wolfwood's hand lingers against his, loosely pressing Vash's hand in place. He looks up at Vash with a shy smile of his own, flushed cheeks. He says, "All yours."

A panel shows a close up of Vash's tender gaze before he leans down to be closer to Wolfwood. The final shot is a front view of their positions, Vash's face turned away from the viewer; Vash is leaning over Wolfwood who's lying down with his right leg draped over Vash's legs. Wolfwood's left hand holds onto Vash's left arm. With finality, Vash says, "...Mine." End ID]

[ID: A follow up bonus comic in a looser, sketchier style. They're laying comfortably in bed when Vash asks, "What was that earlier?" referecing to the start of the previous comic. Wolfwood glances away and says, "To get you used to it. Asking. And getting what you ask for. Since you're alwasy hesitant about it." Vash's eyes widen, tight lipped. Wolfwood continues, "Knowing you, it'll be a tough habit to break..." When he says this, Vash can't help but laugh, unable to deny it. Wolfwood slowly brings a hand to Vash's cheek and continues to say, "So I'll keep trying -- whatever ways I can... to get it through your thick skull." Vash takes Wolfwood's hand with his, kissing the the palm gently. Wolfwood's eyes soften and holding onto Vash's cheek, he leans in to try for a kiss. Vash says, "Hey..." before stopping Wolfwood's lips with the back of his hand, a smug look on his face, "Ask." Wolfwood's embarrassed and with little irritation, asks, "Really?" Vash smiles, saying, "You're in need of practice too." They pause for a moment, Wolfwood looking contemplatively, before he's leaning in again, asking, "May I please kiss you?" Vash looks him in the eyes and says, "Yes." The comic ends with a "chu", indicating an off-panel kiss. End ID]

[iraprince]

Hiii, i love your stuff and kinda from a distance really look up at you for, in my perception, being able to express yourself without giving a fuck. Thats sick dude, Im so so afraid, of absolutely everything, its nice to think like i might grow into someone less apologetic of my existence. Nice to see people just being yknow

hey, thank you, this is really really nice. the secret that is probably not a secret is that i am also deeply afraid a lot of the time lmao -- but less than i used to be, and in ways that feel less stifling and self-suffocating, if that makes sense.

like, it used to be "i'm scared that if i express myself the way i want to, everyone will find me obnoxious, so let's just sand those edges down to be safe" -- now my fears are more like "now that i'm expressing myself in a way that feels natural and real, i'm afraid that it's all stupid/vapid/not worthwhile or meaningful" (<- specifically abt my art) or "i'm happy that i talk and act the way i want to now, but what if it makes me impossible to befriend," etc etc etc. which still feels bad and puts me in a funk a lot of the time but at least it's a fear that comes After/in reaction to doing stuff, rather than a fear that STOPS me from doing stuff, you know? like, it's evolved into a kind of fear that's less in my way.

anyway. i believe you'll experience something like this, because wanting to grow is the first step of growing. the fact that u hope or wish for something different means you're already on your way. to fewer fucks!! or at least distributing the fucks u give in a way that serves u better

[lenaellsi]

Why does aziraphale tells crowley he forgives him??? I literally just finished it and its driving me insane

hello anon! hope you're doing okay after that ending!

that's a hell of a question. there are a few different answers, and i think a lot was going on in aziraphale's head at that particular moment, but this is what I took from it:

-this is a dance aziraphale and crowley have been doing for a long time.

there's some sort of moral conflict. aziraphale repeats heaven's party line. crowley asks a bunch of uncomfortable questions. aziraphale doubles down. crowley calls him an idiot. aziraphale forgives him. crowley storms away. pretty much half of their relationship is built on these kinds of destructive patterns at this point--of course they'd fall back into it during the worst fight they've ever had.

-aziraphale is angry.

he's heartbroken, and he doesn't understand why crowley has decided to abandon him in what should be (from his perspective) the happiest moment of their lives since the fall. he's lashing out, and intentionally hurting crowley in the same way he's been hurt. he's not stupid, no matter how much miscommunication is happening in this scene--telling someone "i forgive you" after they've kissed you is going to hurt, and he knows that.

this reading comes mostly from michael's performance. several people have noted that in the moments immediately after the kiss, aziraphale says "I l--" and then cuts himself off. then he goes on a Michael Sheen Face Journey TM and ends up angry, and that's when we get "I forgive you." whatever else is going on with aziraphale in this moment, he's pissed.

-forgiveness is what aziraphale does.

in aziraphale's very first (modern day) scene of the season, we learn that forgiveness is "one of his favorite things." he forgives maggie's rent, and he forgives gabriel enough to shelter him from heaven and hell while he's vulnerable. it's an instinct for aziraphale, for better or worse, whether it's because it's something he thinks he SHOULD do or something intrinsic to him as a person who desperately wants to do good. occasionally, it's even something he does for his own gain. (see: forgiving maggie was a kind action, but he himself admits that part of his motivation was that she always knows how to find his music.) it makes sense that he would fall back on forgiveness as a framework for understanding a mess of complicated and painful emotions. it makes him feel better, forgiving people, and he needs the comfort of that here.

-he means it.

he forgives crowley for saying no. he forgives crowley for breaking his heart. he forgives crowley for always asking 'damn fool' questions. he forgives crowley for kissing him at the worst possible time. he forgives crowley for falling. he forgives crowley for making him doubt. he forgives crowley for being kind, and clever, and ridiculous, and special, and someone he couldn't help but fall in love with, no matter how much it hurts them both.

and unfortunately, forgiveness is the one thing that will always make crowley walk away.

[lunarharp]

figured i'd do this again..bit early i guess..

[opens-up-4-nobody]

If accommodations no longer help you, I'm curious at what point they stopped being helpful.

[cerise-on-top]

I was on Tik Tok and a video appeared of a woman getting ready (makeup, clothes, etc.) to wait for her police wife, I thought of this scenario with Alejandro. Could you do a oneshot like this?

Hey there! Please don't request oneshots or fics or something like that from me, I usually only write those when I'm inspired ^^; I made an exception this time, but please keep that in mind!

Waiting for Alejandro

Among those gentle dreams of twosomeness, where the lovely was the ordinary and loneliness was as far away as the end of the universe, you prayed. With your eyes closed, with your mind showing you beautiful, vivid dreams of your loved one caressing you, giving you the love you yearned for, you murmured along words of love. The gods would be benevolent enough to let you experience that happiness just once more. Where the wars would never end, where the fights were eternal, you hoped for a small respite from it all, granting such to a lone, tired soldier. A warm hand on his cheek, a smile you almost forgot in your wake, tender words exchanged. The pain of being alone was forgotten for just another moment, tearing your heart open any other time. But alas, a dream was as fleeting as a petal drifting through the wind.

Birdsong, louder than what you were used to, tore you from your peaceful slumber, the light shining through the window. It was not bright, but it almost blinded you. And even on this morning, as the birds sang about their love for one another, as they joined one another into an aria of affection, you felt the lightness of your bed. Even this morning, Alejandro had not yet joined you. You turned to his side, images of him slumbering away flickering in front of you. Your safe haven, your sanctuary of rest, was incomplete without him. Taking his pillow into your arms, you closed your eyes. His scent had faded entirely by now. As it was, nothing remained aside from blurry memories. Had you taken him for granted this entire time? Had you not been a good enough partner? Would he even return? Pangs of insecurity gnawed at your heart. Everything was going to be alright, Alejandro was alright. He was going to return soon.

And on your nightstand laid your phone. In your sadness, it seemed less appealing than usual. And yet, somehow, this morning, you felt more drawn to it than usual. Anxiety coursed through you. A simple “I’m coming home tonight” would ease any and all insecurities you had, but the disappointment of not seeing any messages would be too great. Taking it off the charger, you held it in your phone for a moment, running your finger along its case. Curiosity was a strong drive for many, but for you it held more sadness than anything. How long has it been since you had last seen Alejandro? Too long, but today likely wouldn’t change anything. Devoid of any contentment, you sighed. Maybe you should go back to sleep, delude yourself within those dreams of love. He was to return, for you would fight a seven nation army by yourself and boast an empty victory otherwise.

Another few minutes passed, sitting hunched over your phone without ever turning it on. You didn’t know the time, it didn’t matter. It was nothing you needed to know for the time being. An answer to your prayer came in something you didn’t want to see: Your phone vibrated, the screen lighting up and displaying a message.

I will be home in one and a half hours, wait for me 🥰

The sender was Alejandro.

Without batting an eye, you unlocked your phone, hovering your fingers over the virtual keyboard. You wanted to respond, you needed to, but your mind went blank. What were you to say when your mind wouldn’t respond, but your heart sang a little tune? Dancing in its cage, soon to be freed from its shackles. On its stage, it grew warm underneath all the lights. There was naught but a single person as its audience, but the cheers were as wholesome as they were genuine. It beat, it danced in hope. One and a half hours. All this time you were alone, you grew tired, exhausted even. Jumping up from your bed, you made haste towards your closet, picking out some lovely clothes. Alejandro had always loved seeing you in these, complimenting you every time. Today was a day unlike any other. It was special to you in so many ways, you hoped you could make it a day unlike many others for Alejandro as well.

The time spent in the bathroom was not marked by its brevity. Your hygiene made for the base of it all, combing your hair and brushing your teeth so you could feel clean. Although you would have loved to indulge in this little ritual, there was relatively little time. Between rushing to put on your fancy clothes and applying your makeup, you messed up quite a few times. Your speed could have rivaled that of professionals. Even as you poked your eye a few times, even as you applied more makeup than what was likely needed and you had to scrape off little bits. Looking in the mirror, your heart sank. What have you done to yourself? The precipitance caused you to look questionable at most. Alejandro deserved better than that. It was a special day, one to be celebrated. You could under no circumstances afford to look the way you did.

This time with more leisure, you applied everything yet again. Although you may have looked far from perfection, Aphrodite would have been proud of you either way. Rushing to look at your phone, you looked at the time. Ten minutes and the text would have been one and a half hours old.

You stepped outside. The warm sun hit your face and you looked around. No one yet. For as much as every fiber of your being wished for the time to fly by, for those ten minutes to be skipped, you tried to submit to your patience. You had waited for months, surely you could wait another few minutes.

And yet, those ten minutes didn’t seem to pass. If pain and suffering could turn seconds into minutes, then this little waiting game of yours had been turned into hours. Even as you took in the sun’s warm rays, closing your eyes while remembering all those times Alejandro complained about your vitamin D deficiency, as he forced you outside to soak up the warmth, the time didn’t seem to pass. With a sigh you leaned onto the rails.

Thanks for the ride, amigos!

The door to a car was forcefully closed shut and you opened your eyes. Indeed, there he was in all his glory, waving to those who had driven him home. The waiting had paid off. However, you had no control over yourself as you slowly moved towards him. As if on instinct, as if a moth drawn to flame, as if a child seeking its mother’s affection, you sped up, running right at him. Your heart beat loud and heavy in your ears, it was almost unbearable. However, he, too, seemed to have taken notice of you, standing still as he awaited your embrace.

Stumbling and tumbling about, you eventually reached him, wrapping your arms tightly around him. If he was smoke in the air, then you were the jar he was being captured with. You never wanted to let him go again, simply reveling in his touch instead. Alejandro seemed to reciprocate as he wrapped his arms around you as well, laughing as he did so.

“Someone’s very eager to see me today, eh? Good to see you too.”

“I missed you so much, you have no idea.”

The grip he had on you was somewhat tight, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. And for a moment, he was no longer a fighter, holding the one he loved the most. The wars were over for the time being, he could finally focus on something equally as important. And for a moment, the world was at peace. However, in order to protect such properly, he had to let go of you eventually, holding onto your shoulder for a moment longer still.

“Look at you, all dolled up just for me. You look stunning today, mi amor.”

“Thank you, I wanted this day to be special for the both of us.”

Taking on his role of a warrior yet again, he put his arm around you, shielding you from any and all harm there may be. Even in the comfort of his own home, Alejandro couldn’t help but fight whenever needed. It was his calling, his raison d’être. Even during the most peaceful times, threats of war always lingered. His walls were high still, only lowering them so you could get inside his heart and paint it with your love. Walking you towards your shared home, he hummed a little tune.

“I’m so glad to finally be home again. Now I can spend my time with you and relax a little bit.”

“Shit, I didn’t cook anything, though. I’m so sorry, Alejandro.”

He laughed yet again. That melodious, loud laughter you came to adore over the years you spent with him. After opening the door, he gave you a gentle peck to your forehead.

“Don’t worry too much about it, we can always just order some takeout.”

[skitskatdacat63]

More matador!Fernando! Ferrari this time :D (I can't help myself.....)

- facial hair

+ closeups

I really wanted the vibe of this Nando pic, I think I did pretty well??

[yesterdayiwrote]

For someone who's so thoughtful when he speaks, Lewis really does still give some absolutely terrible quotes when he's talking to journalists...