#but there where some parts that I loved so I'm clinging to those as tight as I can)

[transfennecbuddy]

So apparently I'm on an Azari binge? Cause I just found Shadow Shadow by Azari?? I mean, it's freaking good and I'm not mad, but I'm sensing the beginnings of a trend, lol.

Anyways! I just have to say! This song starts off good! Like, it's slow-ish at first (can't really say slow since it's still kinda poppy and I'm still grooving) but then it just commits to a real boppy beat and that made me love it already!! I love songs with a nice quick beat and this doesn't disappoint!! And I love the music in this song! Something about the underlying notes just makes it even better. It's like—and I apologize in advance but this is the only way I can think to describe it—it's like the first note is nothing much on its own, but then the second adds something similar to the futility in Reincarnation Apple (by PinnocchioP) but less sad, like you're being chased and your pursuer knows you can't escape and is gloating about it. And it's so raw, so nakedly triumphant and scornful and derisive that it feels visceral. And the third note carries some of that same energy but just less heightened, and the fourth both brings the series back to the original note and is mocking again, like "Of course you can't escape, you dumb dumb" but smug and from the pursuer's point of view. (I... may have listened to this song too much, lol. Also, with this context, the clapping at the beginning sounds like an audience watching your demise, as emotionally detached from you and what's actually happening as someone watching TV!) It all is SO GOOD, I love it so much and that little series of notes going down then coming back up slowly has so much in it that I keep replaying this song to soak in all those emotions and in that moment. Like you can try to encapsulate just how it makes you feel but you can't quite express those feelings and they never quite fully soak in so you keep replaying the song to try to fully experience the music, but again it feels a little like some of it is sliding off like water on a duck's feathers and repeat cycle. This is the kind of music I get stuck in my head for days, that I literally bop to until I have to listen to it outside of my head! This is the music that feels like getting close to pure bliss!! MM!

BUT THEN. THIS SONG GETS BETTER! It switches to a slower, more defined bop, and GOSH it's BEAUTIFUL. Like, it feels like a heartbeat, literally just beating in my chest, taking over my whole train of thought, and dictating the mood and speed in which I exist. But sometimes it swirls into a smooth curl of a thing (like instead of sharply there bass beats, it's the lyrics swirling around the straight line that the beats lay out), WHICH ADDS. SO MUCH SWAG. And it's so swaggy, it's so self-assured and smug, that I cannot help but dance! And this is something that you can't do a choreographed dance to (not literally, but like when you first hear it, you're too filled with emotions to try and do a choreographed dance) so every movement is just an expression of the pure joy this song brings. And again, you try to define the beats and the emotion you feel with your movements, but you can't translate all of it. (This is another good part of the song. c:) This song is so good that it takes over a part of my soul!!

BUT THEN the song gets FASTER ohmygosh. And there's no lyrics or anything to define, so you can just extremely bop your head and get out all of the undefined emotion the rest of the song caused. (Like, I bopped my head so hard that my glasses fell off. Multiple times. Eventually I just left them there and picked them up after.) And then the lyrics come back!! And the note progression!! And it all feels so chaotic and full and quick like you're running for your life!!! I love!!!

And then, finally, the song must end. All of the extra instrumental leaves and the applause comes back and it's just the lyrics and a bit of the beat. And then it all falls off entirely and vanishes, leaving me disappointed and switching the loop feature on to hear it again.

(ALSO! When I first heard this song in full, I listened to the automatically created YouTube topic video thing, where an artist is a topic and any song made and/or sang solely by them is added to that extra channel. You know the thing, right? Hopefully, cause I don't have a better explanation. Anyways, so I listened to the actual video for this tho and the art?? Is so good??? I love it ohmygosh it's beautiful MM!)

So lol, guess I found a new (one of my) favorite song(s). And yes, I got a lil obsessed with this song after listening if you couldn't tell. This was the song I was talking about last week. (...I really should make a playlist for all the songs that make me feel like I'm feeling the gates of heaven, hm.) Anyways, seems I might be checking out a few more of Azari's songs maybe! I kinda hope! But I must go now! Writing this reminded me that this song existed (after I found another good song last week, hence why I forgot to actually write this ( -. _-. ) ) so I shall now be doing my homework to this song shortly!! Seeya!

[oceaneyesinla]

I'm Here

So, Demon Slayer is back and Sanemi is looking GOOD. Combine that with me struggling, and you get self indulgent fluff

Mentions of non-sexual nudity ahead, and the fic kind of implies reader is struggling mentally. Take care of yourselves, guys <3

Enjoy!

Banner by @/cafekitsune

“What's going on with you, baby?” Sanemi's voice cut through the static in your mind, soft and soothing. He rounded the couch, flicking on the lamp next to the armchair and bathing the room in soft warm light.

You hadn't even noticed your boyfriend come in, and when you looked around the room, you were confused to see inky black through the apartment window. You swore it had been bright outside not that long ago. When your eyes finally trailed up to his face, you hated the worry lining his handsome features. Worry that you caused.

“‘M fine, Sanemi. Just tired.” Not exactly a lie, but not exactly the truth either. You were tired, but it was quickly becoming apparent that you were anything but fine. A fact you knew all too well, but were powerless to do anything about.

Sanemi moved closer in slow steps, almost as if you were some skittish doe he didn't want to scare away. He knelt in front of you, one hand resting on your knee while the other came up to cradle your face. Warmth bled from his palm into the skin of your cheek and you shivered - a chill had developed while you were sitting there zoning out, and it was only now you realised you felt cold.

“Did you eat today?” You wanted to lie, to spare him the worry, but it was impossible with the way those violet eyes stared into yours. Some scared, hurting part of you expected resentment or anger - wanted it, even - but all you could see was loving concern. Guilt and shame bubbled up in your chest as you shook your head; a tiny gesture that he noticed anyway.

The hand on your cheek moved a little higher, and the pad of his thumb brushed over the bags you knew were sunken under your eyes, a permanent feature these days. You had tried so hard not to burden Sanemi with how awful you felt, but you knew the signs were becoming too obvious for such an observant man to not notice.

“Okay. You go shower; get into some warm clothes. I’ll see what we’ve got in the cupboards, okay?” His voice was still soft and his hand was still a reassuring presence on your thigh. However, just the thought of everything involved with showering overwhelmed you. You would have to pick up clean towels from the cupboard, and clean clothes from the wardrobe. Then you would have to actually get into the shower, and you knew your hair needed washing, and on a normal day, that wouldn’t be a problem.

Today, even getting off the couch right now felt like it would take all your energy. Tears welled in your eyes and began to slip down your cheeks as you sat there, paralysed, “I-I can’t.”

If Sanemi was surprised by your sudden tearfulness, he didn’t show it. He moved closer, your legs opening to let him slot between them. Wrapping you up in an all encompassing hold, one hand landed on the back of your head and the other wrapped around you, cradling you against his body as you cried into the crook of his neck.

You didn’t know how long you sat there, slotted together like puzzle pieces. You stayed with your face pressed into his neck, and slowly, you relaxed into his warmth. Everything seemed a little less overwhelming, a little less terrible when you were pressed this close to the love of your life.

He began to speak and you could feel the rumble of his voice through his chest, “Hold on tight.”

You didn’t know what he was planning, but you did as he asked, clinging to him with your legs wrapped around his waist. A little squeak escaped you as you suddenly moved, and you felt his chuckle rumble through his chest as clearly as you heard it next to your ear. He stood up, supporting your body with one hand under your butt and one around your waist.

He started moving around the apartment, and you reluctantly lifted your head to see where he was taking you. As you watched, head resting on his shoulder, he carried you into the bedroom, releasing his hold on your waist to dig around in your drawers. You noticed he was pulling out your favourites, and even the fluffy socks Kanae gave you for your last birthday. As he moved on, you pressed a kiss to his neck in silent thanks, receiving a squeeze to the plush of your butt in response.

In the bathroom, he lowered you gently onto the toilet seat, pulling away and you felt another couple of tears fall as you realised what he was doing. Towels on the rack, shower turned on, your clothes neatly stacked - he was preparing everything for you, making sure all you had to do was get under the spray.

He returned to stand in front of you, hairbrush in hand and pulled you to your feet. Gentle hands turned you around and released your hair from the messy ponytail you had pulled it into. The hairbrush started to run through your hair and Sanemi carefully untangled the knots that had formed from several days of not bothering to brush it out. He murmured quiet apologies every time he hit a snag and soon, the brush was passing smoothly from root to ends. Once he was satisfied, you felt him lean in to press a kiss to the crown of your head.

Turning around, you met his soft smile with one of your own; the action feeling more genuine than it had in days. He reached for the hem of your shirt, eyes flicking to meet yours, “May I?”

At your nod, he lifted the shirt up and over your head, undressing you with the same tender care he had shown ever since he found you sitting on the couch. His skin was warm against yours as he pressed a delicate kiss to your tummy before he slid your underwear down, prompting you to lift each foot in turn so he could remove the fabric and toss it into the laundry basket. Each gentle touch was lifting the clouds from your mind, and you felt more human than you had in weeks.

He was still crouched at your feet, so you bent down to kiss his forehead, lips lingering before you stepped into the shower, the warm water relaxing you immediately. Of course, it was exactly what you needed and the love you felt for Sanemi burned a little brighter.

So focused on the way the water was beating down on your skin, you jumped when hands came to rest on your waist, manoeuvring you so their owner could slip in behind you.

“Sanemi?” You weren’t sure what his plan was, but you let him move you anyway.

It was only when he pulled the shower head down, gently pushing your head back so he could run the water over your hair without getting it on your face that you realised what he was doing. He knew you usually washed your hair every couple of days, and he knew you hadn’t done it in over a week, and after tonight, you knew he had noticed why. So he was doing it for you.

You couldn’t stop the silent tears that fell, and Sanemi was kind enough not to comment on them as he continued, treating your body like the most precious porcelain as he made sure you were clean, occasionally leaving featherlight kisses on your skin. The pure love and tender intimacy in his actions were balms on the countless little wounds in your soul. You weren’t sure you deserved such open affection, but for tonight, you would allow yourself the indulgence. 

Sanemi moved to wash himself once you were scrubbed and relaxed, and you watched the defined muscles of his back ripple as he lifted his arms to wash his hair. Muscles that had held you steady all night, carrying your weight like it was nothing. You knew he was aware of your staring because when he turned back to you, he was smirking. Normally, there would be teasing from both sides. Tonight, he would let you drink in the sight of him, and you would allow the little ego boost your adoring eyes gave him.

There were still a million thoughts in your head, a million negative emotions just waiting for their moment to strike. A shower wouldn’t be enough to wash them away - you would need time, and probably some intervention. However, as Sanemi towelled you off and dressed you up, making sure your hair didn’t drip onto your clothes, you felt a little flame of hope start to grow. Your Sanemi would be right by your side.

[makeyoumine69]

Painkiller 2

— PAIRING: Patrick Bateman x Pregnant!Fem!Reader

— SUMMARY: You begged Patrick for a good fuck, and who is he to deny it to his sweet little girl?

— CONTAINS: Smut, Dom!Patrick, pet names, degradation (reader is called some names), Daddy kink, dirty talk, vaginal sex, oral sex (f receiving), pregnancy sex/kink, creampie/breeding kink, semi-public sex.

— WORDS: 1.5k

— A/N: Sorry for the long hiatus in posting, I'm still trying to restore some energy, but I hope you enjoy this little piece of text!

— LINKS: [Previous part] [MASTERLIST] [buy me a coffee]💓

"Now you be a good girl and keep those pretty lips of yours quiet." Patrick drawled, his eyes ablaze with wicked intent. He lowered his head, pressing a fierce kiss on the side of your neck.

Trembling, you gasped breathlessly as your inner walls clenched around nothing, yearning for his hot, rock hard flesh to be inside of you.

“Patrick,” you murmured, pulling him closer, your taut nipples were visible through the thin material of your hospital gown. “I… I want you.”

"You needy little slut," Bateman hissed, his eyes fixed on the tantalizing sight of your hardened little peaks, then he leaned down to capture one nipple with his teeth, biting down gently through the fabric, eliciting a muffled whimper from you. "I'm going to fill you up, babydoll," he promised in a dark whisper. "Every fucking inch of you, until you're dripping with me."

With his free hand, Patrick began to fumble with his belt, every nerve on edge with anticipation, his dick aching with desperate need, bulging against the tight confines of his Armani pants.

"Mmhm—Daddy," a muffled moan escaped your lips, your hands clinging desperately to his strong biceps. "I w-want to give you as many children as you want."

Shaking like a leaf, your body desperately longed to be claimed by him again and again, a feeling even stronger than despair — belonging to him was as vital as breathing air.

“Oh, you have no idea what you're in for… Do you, honey?" Bateman taunted, his voice low and possessive.

Patrick couldn't help but groan as the heat of your hands threatened to burn right through the fabric of his expensive shirt.

"Do you really like seeing me pregnant?" You wondered as you sensed his long, thin fingers playing with your tender flesh. "I'm so nervous about gaining so much weight, Daddy." Your voice was tinged with embarrassment as he removed your hospital gown.

"Like?" Patrick rejoined, a devilish chuckle rumbling from his chest. "Damn, dollface, I fucking love seeing you pregnant." His words were infused with raw desire, his gaze sweeping over your swollen form with predatory intensity. The sight of his seed blooming in life within you was a heady combination of possession and power, a tantalizing cocktail that sent his nerves ablaze.

Carefully, you got down on all fours on the hospital bed in front of him, your legs already trembling with sweet anticipation from what about to come. "I need you so much, but please don't hurt the baby."

"Don't worry, darling, Daddy knows just what he's doing." His words hung in the air between you two, possessive and domineering.

Then without further ado, Bateman plunged his throbbing length into your heat, his low groan echoing off the walls of the room. With skilled control, he began to move against your shivering, little form; his grip retaining a firm hold on your hips as they moved to the rhythm of your shared lust. The sensation of your soft inner walls beginning to clench around him, already coaxing gruff moans from his lips. This was where he belonged, buried deep within you, imprinting himself onto every fiber of your being.

"It's so deep… a-awww," you whimpered, and then you had to bite the pillow to suppress all the lewd sounds as you were desperately doing your best to take him in completely. "Daddy, p-please!”

"Oh, sweetness," Patrick grunted in response, pleasure clawing its way up his spine as you tightened around him. Gently, he traced a single manicured thumb in circles around the small of your back, the reminder to be careful tucked safely in the back of his mind. "You like it deep, don't you? Like feeling me fill up your slutty little pussy?"

The potential of being caught only seemed to add an extra dose of adrenaline to your veins, the thrill of it making your hearts practically thud in their cages.

"Now hush," Bateman ordered with a sharp thrust of his hips, his voice a low growl in your ear. "Don't want the good doctors to find out how much of a slut their patient is, do we?" He quipped, his fingers tightening around your hip as he continued his relentless pace; his other hand came down to rub teasing circles around your clit, his aim to drive you as crazy with need as you drove him.

Panting, you leaned on your elbows to minimize the weight on your pregnant bump. The fear of damaging the baby couldn't really let you relax and enjoy the moment of intimacy you were sharing, but you kept quiet, only the sounds of heavy panting and flesh hitting flesh filling the hospital room.

"I w-want you to make me pregnant again, Daddy…" You mewled against the pillow, gripping it as hard as you could from the overwhelming sensation of being so full.

Why was it so hot? To be claimed by his seed, even though you were already pregnant, you had a wicked desire to be bred again and again.

"God, you drive me fucking insane, honey," Patrick groaned as your pussy clamped around his cock once more, truly testing his control. "Give you another one, huh?" He snarled, the sound echoing off the stark white walls of the room. "Fine… a-argh… I’ll spill my fucking seed inside you again…" He growled, losing himself in the fierce desire to mark you in the most intimate way possible.

Nothing was as intoxicating for him as the glazed look in your beautiful eyes, the satisfaction of knowing he would paint your insides with his seed, claiming you as his again and again. Even in a twisted world such as his, this was his greatest conquest, a show of dominance and possession that only spurred his desires further.

As you felt his pounding getting rugged and sloppy, you clung to his hands on your hips, gasping quietly in delight. "Cum for me, Daddy, please, c-cum for me!" Bateman couldn’t hold back it anymore as he spiralled into a blinding crescendo of pleasure, releasing his seed deep within you and keeping you close like a predator trapping its prey. Even though you didn't reach your high yet, you felt elevated by the blissful sensation of his warm liquid filling you from the inside. With a muffled sigh, you turned to look at him, but you couldn't see his face clearly in the darkness, though you knew how smug and arrogant he might be right now, so you decided to continue playing this game, boosting his ego even more.

"Gosh, it feels so good," you purred, spreading your legs wider as your own hand began to work on your feverish, little bud. "But I need you more."

Bateman leaned back, momentarily lost in the obscene picture you painted. "Uh, do you?" He teased, his words laced with thinly veiled lust as he maneuvered himself to his knees, the movement causing ripples in the muscles of his sculpted abs. "You want me to taste you, babe?"

With a smirk, Patrick dove right in, his tongue dipping into you with a harsh swipe as he tasted you, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he feasted. The taste of his cum mixed with your own flavor was intoxicating. God, he would never get enough of you.

Whimpering obscenely, you pressed your face against the hospital bed, your insides ready to burn from pleasure as his masterful tongue knew exactly what to do, drawing invisible lines along your delicate petals, forcing you to soak so hard — you could feel your juices running down your inner thighs, but Bateman was immediately cleaning it up with his eager mouth.

"Ah, Daddy," you were so close and yet so embarrassed at the thought of someone outside hearing what the two of you were doing. "Please, please, please! I love you... I love you s-so much!" You almost wept, praying that you wouldn't get caught and that he wouldn't punish you for not being a good, obedient girl like he wanted you to be.

"You sound so pretty when you call me Daddy, sweetheart," Patrick moaned against your soft flesh, his voice a saccharine poison dripping into your ears. His tongue slid back up your slit, slower this time, the flat of it pressing against your bundle of nerves with agonizing restraint. "I'm not done with you yet." He warned, his tone foreboding as he dived back between your thighs with renewed energy, his tongue darting in and out of you in rhythmic motions.

"I'm cumming, D-Daddy, a-aww, I'm cumming," a quivering yelp escaped your half-open lips as you clutched the sheets of the hospital bed, your legs shaking in his tight grip. "Pat-Patrick!"

Paralyzed, you forgot how to breathe as your inner muscles began to spasm around his tongue, the sensation was so intense, so overwhelming — the knowledge that you belonged to this man completely and irrevocably was as astonishing as rain in the dry desert. After all, you wanted to carry as many children as he wanted, and the idea of being a tradwife for him didn't seem strange to you anymore.

P.S. Thank you for reading until the end! I don’t have a taglist. You can follow my side blog @makeyoumineagain and turn on notifications to know when I update!

[norris-lando]

it's nice to have a friend

Lando Norris x reader, mentions of Charles Leclerc x reader

warnings: smut, angst, fighting, breakup

author's note: Soooo... This was inspired by so many songs, I'm not going to list them all but the songs are by Taylor Swift, Gracie Abrams and Sabrina Carpenter. It's a longish one with a few twists. I hope you like it! :)

word count: 6.1k

school bell rings, walk me home, sidewalk chalk covered in snow, lost my gloves, you give me one, 'wanna hang out?', yeah sounds like fun

You went through your camera roll and found the perfect pictures, adding them to your post. Under them you wrote, 'Bestest birthday to my partner in crime!!! 🩷 I love you and can't wait to celebrate your special day with you soon xx'. You made sure to tag Lando and pressed post.

The two of you had known each for what felt like forever. Growing up next to each, you spend most of your childhood playing at your house or his parents cabin during your shared family trips.

Throughout the years you knew each other, everything always stayed the same between the two of you. Your relationship never changed or shifted. You stayed friends no matter what and whatever either of you went through in life, you knew you could trust the other with it.

It was always nice to know you had someone standing in your corner.

—

When Lando became more well known in the media, people obviously started to question your relationship. Or more so if you really were just friends. You were known for your online banter, posting pictures of each other and just the kind of all around 'act' you two had. And sure, it could sometimes seem like there was something more going on but it was never the case. Making it easy for the two of you to just brush off those kind of allegations.

But when Lando started seeing someone, a special someone, you couldn't help but feel just a little jealous. Not that you would ever admit it to him, you pushed those feelings away the best you could.

You were just friends after all, right? And nothing could ever come between you.

we were supposed to be just friends, you don't live in my part of town but maybe I'll see you out some weekend, depending on what kind of mood and situation-ship I'm in and what's in my system

It was Lando's birthday party. Everyone was invited.

You walked in to the bar and searched around the room for a familiar face. It was jam-packed but soon enough you spot the birthday boy himself.

Lando was leaning against the bar, waiting for a drink he had just ordered. A smile appeared on his face when he saw you and he waved for you to come over.

For a moment you could swear he was eyeing you in a way he hadn't before. The way someone might when they see someone they like. But you assumed it was nothing as you made your way over to him. He was dating someone else anyway so nothing could happen between the two of you even if you wanted to.

A part of you wondered where his new girlfriend was. You hadn't yet seen her anywhere although you had assumed she would have been all over Lando. Usually that was always the case and sometimes you even felt bad for Lando. The poor guy was trying to exist but his girlfriend was always there, lurking around some corner, not wasting any time to cling herself to Lando's side. However, not wanting your mood to affect your night, you pushed away the thought of his girlfriend.

Lando had taken it upon himself to order you a drink, knowing full well what you wanted. He pushed it towards you, sliding it on the countertop. He still had that stupid big but cute smile on his face. You pulled him in for a tight hug and congratulated him yet again on his birthday.

"Thanks," he mumbled as he held onto your body. You could have stayed like that all night but you pulled away soon enough. The smell of his cologne still lingering in the air around you.

You couldn't help yourself. You had to ask. "Where's your girlfriend?" The music was loud so you had to yell. And the smile on Lando's lips finally seemed to shy away a little.

"She had a work thing she couldn't miss," he said sheepisly as his gaze went around the room. As if looking for a way out of what could easily became a really awkward conversation. "Come on, let's go sit down. The rest of the grid is waiting for you." Lando took your hand and led you through the crowd of people.

In the back of your mind you kept feeling like Lando was rushing to keep the conversation away from his girlfriend and you couldn't help but wonder why it was so. You kept the thought to yourself however as you let Lando guide you to a more secluded section of the bar.

Everyone was so happy to see you. You squeezed yourself in between Lando and Charles on the small couch and set your drink on the table.

Tonight was going to be one special night, you thought to yourself as you looked around and relaxed. If only you'd know exactly how special this night was going to be...

-

You weren't sure how many drinks you had downed by the end of the night but it was enough to get you drunk. And when the night was nearing to its end, the only thing on your mind was fast food and a comfy bed to sleep in.

You had went around the party saying your goodbyes to everyone before you went to find Lando and tell him you were going to head home.

"I'm coming with you," was all he said. Before you could argue back, tell him that he should stay - it was birthday party after all - you found yourself outside waiting for your ride that Lando had arranged.

You slipped into the back of the taxi with Lando trailing in after you. He gave the driver the adress before closing the door and joining you in the backseat.

The ride back felt fast and suddenly you found yourself stumbling up the steps to your door. Lando held you tightly by the waist making sure you wouldn't fall over. A giggle left your lips as his hands were holding onto you, tickling you somehow.

"What's so funny," Lando asked. It was dark inside your apartment but you could make out Lando's features and saw a small smile on his confused looking face.

Another giggle came out. "You," you blurted just as you felt your legs about to give in. Lando caught you just in time, picking you up in his arms, whispering something about taking you straight to bed.

"We'll get that take out tomorrow morning," he told you, referring back to your cab drive where you had told him you wanted fries and a cheeseburger.

You tried to convince him that you weren't that tired yet. That you could handle some food before passing out but he didn't listen to you. Instead, Lando led you straight to bed.

Upstairs, Lando opened the door to your bedroom. He put you down gently on one side before moving the covers and telling you to roll over. You did as you were told and snuggled under the covers.

"Please stay with me," you whispered gently as Lando was about to leave the room to go sleep on your couch.

Your words made Lando froze for a moment, contemplating if it was a good idea. He had never told you but he had had feelings for you for a while but never acted on them, thinking you only saw him as a friend. Hope arose in his chest when he heard your words.

But things were different now. He was in a relationship and couldn't act on his feelings, no matter how much he wanted to.

"Stay," you said again, more pleading this time and Lando couldn't help himself. He climbed into bed with you and turned on his side so that the two of you were facing each other.

A smile was playing on your lips as you looked at Lando. He was smiling too.

You tried to control yourself but you leaned in a little closer, scooting over to him so that your lips were only inches away before you closed the gap and kissed him.

Both of you were taken aback by what just happened. You soon however relaxed into the feeling. Lando's hands moving over your body as the kiss grew more passionate with each passing second.

There was a nagging feeling in Lando's chest. He was going to regret this in the morning but he couldn't help himself. He had wanted you for so long as more than a friend.

It didn't take long before your clothes were falling on the floor. Lando climbed on top of you, holding his body up with his arms. The two of you stared at each other as if you were not sure what to do next, not knowing where this moment was going to lead to.

"Are you sure?" Your voice felt small around the tension in the room, both of you knowing full well what you were referring to.

"I'm sure," Lando whispered back as your lips crashed together. You wrapped your arms around his neck and gently grabbed his hair, pulling, keeping him close to your face. It felt like no matter how close you were together, it still wasn't enough.

Lando pulled away from your kiss. A groan left your lips at the loss of contact. You were almost pouting, thinking this was it. That Lando had changed his mind, come to his senses and realised that what was going to happen wasn't right.

It didn't last long as you soon felt Lando make his way down, leaving wet kisses behind all over your body. He made his way in between your legs and placed a small kiss on your clit. This time it was a moan that escaped your lips. Your hips buckled upwards, showing Lando how eager you were.

There was a vibration, Lando was chuckling. "Let me take my time," he said as his fingers went up and down your wet pussy before pushing first one, then two, inside you. He was curling them as you felt them hit your g-spot. You were soon a moaning mess under his touch.

"Please- Lando, I want-" You couldn't finish your thought as you felt Lando's movements become faster and faster. He shushed you as he hoisted himself back up, his face inches away from yours.

"I want you too, so bad," he told you as you could feel his cock on your entrance. It didn't take long before he pushed it inside you.

Lando was moving his hips back and forth. The two of you moaning and groaning loudly. Everything felt so surreal and so good and you wondered why you hadn't confessed your feelings to Lando before.

It didn't take long for the two of you to finish nearly simultaneously, your orgasms leaving you both breathless. Lando collapsed next to you as you tried to catch your breath.

You turned your head so that you were looking at him. Lando was on his back, a small smile playing on his lips. You scooted closer to him, letting your head rest on his chest. Lando wrapped his arms around you and pulled you even closer. He placed a small kiss on the top of your head and soon the two of you were fast asleep.

friends breakup, friends get married, strangers get born, strangers get buried, trends change, rumors fly through new skies but I'm right where you left me

The morning after Lando's birthday party, you woke up to the sound of birds chirping outside your window as sun peeked through the closed curtains. There was a pounding in your head as memories from last night flooded your mind but you couldn't help but smile.

You rolled around in your bed, turning on your side so that you could face Lando who you'd remembered had fallen asleep in your bed after your shared night together. But to your surprise he wasn't there. The bed was empty apart from you and it suddenly felt cold.

You listened closely for a moment, thinking Lando must have gotten up and went to make you breakfast. Or maybe he, too, had a pounding headache and a horrible hangover and he had gone to rummage around your cabinets in the search of a cure.

Taking your phone from the bedside table and going over Instagram and other social media, you got up from the bed and made your way around the house. Lando was nowhere to be seen and you got a sort of nagging feeling. Or maybe it was more of sickness in the pit of your stomach. You weren't sure if it was the hangover or the guilt from your last night actions but you knew you had to rush to the bathroom before you threw up all over the floor.

-

Days passed and you hadn't heard from Lando. Each day, you tried to call him, leaving him multiple voicemails and texts but he didn't answer any of them. You felt angry. Betrayed. Lando knew what he was doing that night. He told you he was sure. He had said to you that this was what he wanted. And now what? Had he changed his mind and now wanted nothing to do with you? It felt unfair to you. Had you really lost your lifelong best friend over a stupid, drunken mistake?

If you had known that this was how it was going to be, you'd never gone to that stupid party. You would have stayed at home alone. At least then you would still have your best friend.

she looks nothing like me so why do you look so happy, now I think I get the cause of it, you were holding out to find the opposite

Instagram had become your worst nightmare. In fact, all of social media had become your worst nightmare. You had tried your best to stay away from it all but somehow you always found yourself on Lando's pages, trying to make out what he was doing and who he was with whenever he posted something.

And then one night just as you were about to put your phone away and stop your stalking you saw something you wished you could unsee.

A picture of Lando and his girlfriend was staring right at you. You couldn't look away so you stared at the picture for a godawful time, embarrassed at your own behaviour. Lando had taken his girlfriend to Paris and now you could see for yourself just how happy the two of them looked together, posing under the Eiffel Tower.

Thoughts were racing around your mind but one struck out more than the others. She doesn't look anything like me so why is he looking so happy? In fact, she looked exactly like all those girls you had spent the better half of your teenage years making fun of with Lando.

The feeling of betrayal came rushing back. Why did he get to be all happy and in love? He was the one who cheated. Why were you the one who was suffering from the consequences? It wasn't fair.

you say 'I don't understand' and I say I know you don't, we thought a cure would come through in time now I fear it won't

It had been a few weeks since you had last seen or spoken to Lando. To be fair, you had been busy with your own work and hadn't really even managed to make time for anything else. Still, knowing the possibility of running into him during the Silverstone GP was enough to make you feel sick.

Your absence at the races hadn't gone unnoticed by the rest of grid. They had all already gotten used to your presence at almost every GP and now that you weren't there, it felt like something was missing.

So, one night as you had been at home, making yourself dinner after a long day at work, you were surprised to see Charles text you. He had started to worry about your absence and wanted to know if everything was alright and if you were going to make an appearance at the British race during the weekend.

Maybe Lando hasn't told anyone about your shared night together, you thought, maybe he regrets what happened.

The two of you ended up calling, finding it easier to speak over the phone rather than text, racking up an impressive few hour long phone call. Which, much to your dismay, had ended with you promising to go to Silverstone the following weekend. Charles, however in hopes of making the appearance easier for you, had promised that you could stay at the Ferrari Garage the whole time. Making it less likely for you to see or run into Lando, or his girlfriend for that matter.

And though the idea of going to Silverstone wasn't all that high on your list of things to look forward to, you still felt glad after talking to Charles. It felt good to know that there was someone willing to listen to you talk about your feelings regarding Lando. Charles seemed to understand and you were thankful for that.

You hated to admit it but it had started to feel like Lando wasn't really understanding where you were coming from. The ball had started rolling when you ended up sleeping together and it felt like Lando left you all alone in that situation.

There used to nothing that could come between the two of you. Now? Now it felt so tiring to try to make things right. Your feelings regarding everything were nothing but an imposition to Lando.

You had done all that you could. You tried to make amends, to talk to him about what had happened. But he wasn't fighting on the same side with you anymore - he was behind the enemy lines. And he was losing you.

and part of me wants to walk away 'till you really listen, i'd hate to look at your face and know that we're feeling different, 'cause part of me wants you back but i know it won't work like that, huh?

It was a sunny day in Silverstone. You were walking around the paddock, making your way to the Ferrari garage where Charles was probably already waiting for you.

"Hey," a familiar voice said behind you. You froze in your tracks for a moment before turning around to see Lando. You didn't know what to say or how to react so you just stood there, dumbfouned.

"It's been a while, huh?" Lando tried his best to mask the guilt he was feeling with a small chuckle but wasn't sure he managed. He took a step closer to you as you took a step back at the same time. "Look, y/n, I'm really sorry-"

You cut him off before he could say anything more. "Don't apologize, Lando, please. It's been hard enough as it was. There is no need to make matters worse."

To be honest, you were surprised by your own words but they were all true. It had been hard knowing Lando was out there somewhere living his life without you. These last few weeks had felt like you were stuck, unable to move on. Maybe that's what it's like losing your bestfriend, you had thought.

"Make matters worse- Y/n, what are you on about?" Lando's words cut through like a knife, making it seem like this was all your fault. "I wanted to apologize for ignoring you but it seems like it's not me who should be apologizing right now."

Anger was boiling inside of you. You couldn't believe Lando's arrogance. And though, you didn't want to cause a scene, you couldn't just stand there in silence.

"I'm not sure what dreamland you're living in but if I remember correctly we both agreed to do what we did the night of your birthday party. So, you can't put the blame all on me." Silence. You thought about your words - the ones you had just said and the ones you were about to say. "I knew it was a mistake but I didn't wanna believe you would think that, too, cause I love you and I thought that maybe you'd feel the same way."

Lando looked unsure. Like he didn't exactly know what you meant. Of course he loved you too, you were his best friend and had been since the two of you were kids. That hadn't changed during recent time apart and Lando was certain it would never change.

But then it clicked and he suddenly understood it all too well. Guilt rushing to him as he realized his mistake. He had, more or less, accidentally led you on.

He never meant to hurt you but that night and morning after felt like a blur to him. He was afraid and just bolted before you woke up. Why he didn't answer all those times you tried to call and text, he couldn't provide an answer for. He felt bad and once enough time had passed, it was harder and harder to make things right.

"I didn't come here to ruin your day so I'll just get going," you had started to walk away now but still called out to him with your back turned to him, "have a great rest of your life, you dickhead."

Lando stayed still for a moment, processing your words. Did you really mean that? Did you really not want to see him anymore? Have anything do with him? Had he really lost his friend, his best friend, over something so stupid?

If only Lando could go back in time, he'd make things right.

and I fell from the pedestal, right down the rabbit whole, long story short it was the wrong time//pushed from the precipice, clung to the nearest cliff, long story short it was the wrong guy

The summer break had started. And after the mess at Silverstone, you and Charles had grown closer. Though, you had always been friends, now that Lando was out of the picture, Charles and you spent even more time together.

He had taken Lando's place in your life. The two of you going out to dinner, having movie nights and just all around spending time together.

At first it was all platonic. Neither of you really looking for anything more than just friends to share the ups and downs of life with. But something happened and you two started dating. Agreeing to take things slow in order to avoid a catastrophe.

It was strange for a while but it felt nice to have someone you share everything with now that Lando wasn't that person for you anymore. You started to feel happier each day and it was all because of Charles.

The thought of Lando still stung whenever it crossed your mind. It wasn't easy to leave him behind. You had grown so accustomed to him being there for you through thick and thin. And sometimes it felt almost like the ultimate betrayel, replacing him with Charles. But you made your peace with it just as Lando had made his when he chose to walk away that one morning.

so we could call it even, you could call me 'babe' for the weekend, 'tis the damn season, write this down

It felt like a bad dream when Charles told you. A couple of guys from the grid had made plans for a little get-together over the summer. And though usually you'd be excited to spend time with everyone, now you dreaded it.

"We don't have to go," Charles said reassuringly when he saw the look on your face. "Or I can go alone, whatever's fine with you." He was so sweet and kind and considerate, and you felt bad about not wanting to go.

The two of you had managed to keep your relationship sort of private so far but you had talked about the possibility of going more public. With only a few of your closest friends aware of your situation so far, you figured this was a great way to catch everyone up.

So, with slightly gritted teeth, you agreed to go with Charles to the get-together. Nothing bad could happen anyway, right? You were grown ups. You and Lando could handle being in the same room together. Besides, you had both moved on. Maybe this could be a good time to try to reconnect with a certain, and once very dear, old friend.

-

The night went on quite nicely. Everyone was so happy to be there, to see you. Everyone but Lando. The second you got there, you could see something was bothering him. You tried to ignore it, deciding it was for the best. You told yourself he could come talk to you if he wanted to.

You were outside the venue, looking out at the sea, admiring the view. You heard someone walk over and take a stand next to you. You didn't bother to look, you knew who it was.

"I'm happy for you," Lando said sheepishly.

"Are you?" You didn't mean for it sound so accusing and you hoped Lando didn't pick up on it. You didn't want to fight anymore. If anything, you wanted your friend back.

"Look, I'm trying my best here."

"I know. Me too. I'm sorry," you offered with a small smile.

Lando smiled back at you. The two of you exchanged apologizies, going back and forth with who to blame for your fall out. It came to an end when you finally agreed it was probably just as much both of your fault.

You felt happy for the first time in what felt like forever. Though you were happy with Charles, this was different. You felt like maybe you finally had your friend back.

"I broke up with her," Lando said after a moment of silence.

You walked closer to him, hesitating for a while before you pulled him in for a hug. He didn't have to say how he felt, you knew.

"Do you remember when we were like 5 or 6 and you tried to make me feel better after I found out that Brad from school didn't like me back? I was heartbroken."

Memories pulled you back. You came home from school, tears in your eyes as Lando trailed behind you. He was calling your name but you ignored him. So he ran after you, catching you just as you were about to walk inside.

"And I promised that when we grew up, I'd marry you and love you so much that you'd forget about stupid Brad," he said finishing your trip down memory lane. A chuckle escaped his lips as he pulled away from the hug.

"Yeah," you started, "I guess if things had been different..."

Something stopped you from finishing your thought. But Lando knew what you meant without you even saying it. There was a sting in his chest. He had almost lost you and he didn't like the feeling. He didn't want to risk doing something that would end with you walking away from his life completely. Even though deep down he had started to feel like being friends wasn't enough anymore.

Or maybe it never had been.

"There you are," Charles called out to you. "I've been looking everywhere for you."

You took a step back from Lando, startled at the sight of Charles. You had almost forgotten about him.

"Oh, yeah, sorry," you hurried, "I just needed to get some air."

Lando was hovering by your side as Charles' gaze flicked between the two of you. He had a knowing smile on his face. He was happy to see you two getting along. It had pained Charles to hear you talk about Lando. Charles knew how close you were and he hated seeing you and Lando in pain.

It was awkward for a moment. None of you saying or doing anything until Lando broke the silence.

"I should get going," he offered you a small smile and patted Charles on the shoulder as he walked past him, leaving you and Charles alone.

Charles walked over to you and you extended your arms to pull him in for a hug. You buried your face in the crook of his neck and he placed a gentle kiss on the top of your head. The two of you exchanged a few words about the night before you walked back inside.

do you remember, happy together, I do, don't you? // thought you'd hate me but instead you called and said I miss you, I caught it

You had left Monaco to visit your parents back at home in London before you, too, had to get back to work.

You didn't know it but Lando was in London as well. He had a good relationship with your parents, having spent most of his childhood with them almost as much as his own parents. So, one night as you were getting ready for bed, you heard a knock.

"I'll get it," you called out to your parents as you made your way to the front door.

Lando stood there with a smile on his face. "Hi," was all he said as he couldn't help but burst into a laugh as he saw your confused look.

"What- What are you doing here?" You turned to look behind you before you took a step forward, closing the front door quietly. You were happy to see Lando though you certainly weren't expecting him to show up unannounced.

He gave you a shrug, "I heard you were here and I wanted to see you before the break ended."

Lando could see you weren't exactly happy with his explanation but he didn't care. He didn't want to wait any longer. He wanted to tell you how he felt about you. About everything. This was his grand romantic gesture.

-

The two of you ended up sitting on your parent's front porch for hours. Talking about everything that had happened over the summer, the conversation at first being very casual.

"Look, y/n, I-" Lando started but couldn't find the words. He took a deep breath, hoping to find courage with the inhale. "Okay, here goes-

After what happened that one night, I was a mess. I didn't know what was right so I just ignored you. And then I saw you with Charles and you seemed so happy and then we talked and I-

I love you, y/n, and not just a friend. And I know you're with Charles and I don't wanna come between you but I just can't not tell you how I feel. I already messed up once by not telling you so I just can't not say this right now."

Silence filled the air. You kept your eyes fixated on Lando but didn't say anything. You barely dared to breathe, afraid it might cause an explosion.

After what felt like an eternity for Lando, you got up from your spot. A fear crept down Lando's spine. This was it, he thought, now he lost you for good.

"I should head to bed, I have to get up early tomorrow," was all you could say. Thoughts spinning in your head, you were sure you wouldn't be able to get any sleep but you were certain you couldn't sit here any longer.

Lando got up as well and just stood there in silence as he watched you make your way inside.

"Goodnight, Lando."

With that, the door closed right in front of him and he could feel his life shattering into a million little pieces.

and i guess we fell apart in the usual way and the story's got dust on every page but sometimes i wonder how you think about it now and i see your face in every crowd

The sun was setting over the horizon. It was warm and the sky was painted in a beautiful color. It was a perfect ending for a perfect day.

You had your arm wrapped around Charles' as your head rested on his shoulder. The two of you walking down the streets of Monaco after having a nice dinner at a nearby restaurant.

You were happy but there was an unexplainable sense sneaking in slowly. It felt like a fire that was burning you inside out that started after you and Lando saw each during the grid get-together. And it kept getting worse and worse, your secret rendezvous in London not helping.

Charles came to a sudden stop. He had his gaze fixated on you, a look of concern plastered across his face. You thought maybe he had said something but when you asked, he just stood there quietly now holding both of your hands in his.

"Y/n, I've really enjoyed this time we've spent together," Charles started and you knew where this was going.

"I really care about you and like you, don't get me wrong. I wouldn't change a thing that has happened. But I can see how Lando looks at you and how you look at him."

Charles let go of your hands and there was an empty feeling left. You tried to say something but Charles pulled in for a hug.

"I don't wanna stand in between you and Lando, y/n. And I'm not angry or sad. I want what's best for you."

You understood where this was coming from. And surprisingly, you didn't feel sad, either. Your time with Charles had just ran its course. There was no bad blood between the two of you. Surely, you could stay friends after all this.

The two of you pulled away from your hug. Charles had a small smile on his lips that you reciprocated. Everything was okay.

-

The rest of your evening was spent walking around the streets aimlessly. Neither of you wanting to let go of these final moments together as something more than just friends but less than lovers before you ultimately had to.

small talk, he drives, coffee at midnight, the light reflects the chain on your neck, he says look up and your shoulders brush, no proof, one touch but you felt enough // you are in love, true love

The rain was pouring down with force and you were soaking wet. There was a tenseness in you as you stood outside Lando's apartment shivering, wondering if you should knock.

The door in front of you opened suddenly and you stood face to face with Lando. This time, the surprise was evident on his face as a small smile crept on yours.

"Hi," you said carefully, as if inspecting the situation.

It was getting cold in your drenched clothes and you were starting to shiver. Lando noticed that and rushed to pull you inside. He didn't want you to catch a cold, though he still didn't have any idea as to why were standing outside his apartment in the first place.

"Come on," he said, not wanting to push things but instead allowing you to say whatever you wanted on your own terms whenever you were ready. "Let's get you some dry clothes."

You followed Lando through his home, taking in your surroundings as if it was your first time visiting. As if you hadn't once spent almost half of your time here, with or without Lando. It felt strange to be back but it also felt like coming home.

Lando rummaged through his closet. You were fidgeting with your hands, nerves building up with each second.

"Here," Lando threw you pieces of clothing, "try these."

You caught them and stared at the clothes in your hands.

"You can go change in the bathroom if-" Lando started but you cut him off.

"I love you," was all you said before taking a deep breath. "I love you and I don't mean that as just a friend. I've loved you for you so long now and I hope I'm not too late in telling you this."

Silence filled the space. There was a gap between you and Lando but it soon closed as Lando rushed over to you, pulling you in for a kiss. His hands cupped your face and you relaxed into the warm feeling.

"You have no idea how long I've been waiting for you to say that," he said as he pulled away, his hands still on your cheeks.

A wide smile spread on your lips as you looked in to Lando's eyes. It felt like a dream to be standing here, after all this time and all that hardship it took you to get to this point. But you were happy. You both were happy. And in love.

[quigonswife8]

Okay: Leon Kennedy x reader

Leon thinks you die, so when he sees you alive he never wants to let you go again.

gif creds: @halfwayriight

Bold = Leon

You + Luis: normal font

Italics = Ashley

-

"(Y/N)!"

His voice cracks, breaking through the chaos of the night. His eyes, wide- shock filled. His body is frozen in place, almost as if an invisible force is willing it to. His heart picks up speed until it feels like it's going to give out, and his right hand reaches out in desperate need to touch you- to grab you and pull you.

Though as the building collapses, and that face he loves so dearly disappears from sight, it doesn't feel real.

"(Y/N) NO!"

The 27 year old begins to run towards the building, when he's suddenly stopped by the roof above collapsing and knocking him out.

....

....

"Ugh my head."

Leon's eyes slowly open, welcoming the dim night. He looks around the room, confused, and that's his eyes land on Ashley and Luis. Still disoriented he attempts to sit up which fails, as the pain from his head shoots back and leaves him groaning again.

"...where.."

"Leon!"

Ashley having just realised he's awake runs over to him, and hugs him.

"You're awake!"

"What..."

"You were knocked out."- Luis finishes, a few cuts and bruises on his face. "...we managed to find you before you were killed, and we brought you here." the Spaniard waves his hand. "...and lucky we did..."

Leon groans and clutches his head, his mind a swirl.

"(y/n)...where's..."

Leon looks around the room, having not remembered what happened yet.

"Where's (y/n)..."

Luis and Ashley exchange a look; Ashley looks near tears, and Luis is doing a perfect job of hiding his emotions. An unspoken silence between the two leads Luis to jog Leon's memory which he wish he didn't have to do.

"They're...they're gone-"

The door being thrown open so suddenly grabs the attention of the three. They look over at the door, almost-expecting to see one of those Ganado's because what's new. Though when the three focus ahead, they all look shocked...Leon especially, who stares wide-eyed.

His partner, his lover, they're standing at the door. One hand on their side, cuts and bruises scattered on their face. They look weak, disoriented, yet despite that, manage a smile.

"I'm here-"

Your eyes widen when Leon is over to you in no time, his arms wrapping around you, pulling you tight against his chest. He gasps, he clings to your body like he's making sure that you're there and he's not imagining things. He lets out a soft sob, his hands clinging clinging once more, the blood covering you touching him.

"You...you're-"

"I'm here baby..."

Despite the amount of pain you're in, that you wanna pass out, being in Leon's embrace is soothing now that you're back in his arms. Leon keeps you close to him, to his heart, and the two of you stand there, while Ashley and Luis watch on with smiles.

----

Leon glances over at you every so often, making sure you're still breathing.

"They're alright...physically."

The doctor tells Leon, jotting down some notes in his book.

"...mentally..." the agent nods, knowing already, cause why wouldn't you be mentally okay after all that you went through.

"Can I stay?"

"Of course."- the doctor nods. "I'll let you two be alone."- and he leaves the room and shuts the door, leaving you and Leon alone once again. Leon, who approaches the bed and sits down, his right hand intertwining with your left.

He watches the way you breathe, the way your mouth is slightly parted. The cuts and bruises on your body an example of your survival, and the bandage around your torse reminding him that he almost lost you.

It feels surreal; one minute he had seen you "die", the next you were back in his arms safe and sound. The last 24 hours have been insane but with you alive and well, things are already better. Leon squeezes your hand softly, not enough to wake you, but enough to let your subconscious know that he's there.

Leon gets comfortable on the chair, and spends the next few hours just watching over you until you wake.

-A few weeks later-

"Home sweet home."

Leon comes up behind you and kisses you on the cheek before hauling the stuff inside; you had offered to help, though Leon was insistent on doing it all himself.

"So glad to be home."

He places everything down by the couch, and turns to face you; his eyes soften, he smiles when you smile they're smile is so beautiful, and proceeds to walk back over to you.

Leon leans down, and surprises you when he wraps his arms around you, and scoops you up, his lips meeting yours in a loving kiss. You kiss him back, being spun around by Leon, who can't stop smiling.

"I love you Leon."

Leon swoons hearing those words, it never fails to make his heart hammer. Oh how he loves you so much, he's just so happy to have you in his arms alive and well, and now the two of you can spend time together which means more than anything.

"I love you too sweetheart. Now, let's go and relax." and, with his arms still holding you, and the softest smile ever on his lips, he carries you over to the couch.

[podiumsitter]

best friend privilege 🏁 gr

summary; george takes you to as many races as he can, because you're his best friend. but that's not the only privilege you have.

warnings; so filthy i'm sorry. pining, masturbation, mutual masturbation, dirty talk, kinda praise kink, slooow burn,cocky george obviously, will probably have a part two i think

word count; 5926

You’ve been George’s best friend for a few years new, having met before he even got his seat at Williams. You were friends through it all—supporting him through the harder years, and celebrating with him when he won the F2 championship, when he got his first points for his team, and when he finally signed his contract to drive for Mercedes like you knew he deserved.

There was never any doubt in your mind that you and George would be best friends for as long as you two were on this earth, if you were being dramatic about it, and you had no doubt that George felt the same about your relationship.

You were friends, best friends, it has always been that way.

However, ever since he joined the top team, something changed about him. He was more serious, more determined than you’ve ever seen him (even more so than before his qualifying session in Spa) and that changed something in you, too.

His blue eyes were always filled with a fire, a hunger—one you were so so used to seeing, but now, that fire was burning against your skin every time he looked at you.

Perhaps, you had some sort of feelings for your best friend.

And that was absolutely fine, because feelings come and go—but you knew your friendship with George was forever. So this was just something that was going to pass, it was just because of how close you two were, it was just that stupid black suit.

It must’ve been—because you noticed something similar moving in your stomach that night in Sakhir. That black suit had powers, ‘sall.

And if anything, it was definitely only physical, considering you only noticed a longing for him when you were at the races with him. On those weekend when you couldn’t travel out with him, you felt normal things people feel for their friends; pride, joy, happiness, as you watched him on the podium, or sometimes disappointment when his weekend wasn’t going as well as he’d hoped. And then he’d call you after, and the pair of you would discuss the race and his weekend and then your weekend and it was all normal.

It was just that suit—you swore—as you walked next to him all day on the Friday. You were in Barcelona, so the weather was intensely warm, and George pushed that black suit to his hips, as low as it could possibly go, and strutted to the media pen.

You were talking about something unimportant, George asked you to find out the details of your mutual friends’ birthday party, and you told him what your friends had planned, and he was trying to remember if he was free to join, and you were so not listening as he sucked on that stupidly long straw of his.

“Water is important,” you said when the conversation stopped midway as George drank half his bottle in one go.

“It’s so fucking hot,” he complained. As if on cue, his trainer appeared beside him with a towel. George wiped the sweat off his forehead as the four of you arrived to the media pen. His trainer handed him another bottle, and his press officer was telling him something and you were just standing there and, frankly, admiring the view.

“Can I take these fireproofs off?” He groaned, as he tried pulling them away from his skin—but they were clinging onto him for dear life. You remembered a race last year, god knows where in the world you were, with similar weather to today. His white fireproofs were so tight you could see the outline of his stomach and--

“You can’t do the interviews shirtless, George,” his press officer rolled her eyes.

“I’m sure people would love that, though,” he smirked down at her.

“I’m sure they will,” she indulged him with a roll of her eyes, “but you’re on national television.”

“We’ll keep that for the late night shows, then?” He asked with a glint in his eyes.

“George,” she chuckled, shoving him slightly.

George was such a fucking flirt.

“Can you talk some sense into him?” She turned to you with a sigh, the same way she did almost every weekend you were around.

You laughed, rolling your eyes as you shrugged. “I think it’s best to wait for a shower before you take anything off,” was the best you could come up with. In all honesty, you wouldn’t mind it if George needed to rid himself from some layers. Who would blame him in this heat?

“Shower!” George said, snapping his fingers and pointing at you as if you came up with the best idea he’s heard all day.

George turned to his trainer, grabbing the second bottle from him, and pouring half of it on his head. He took his towel, drying himself up, and running it over his short hair. Suddenly, you had an urge to tug on those locks, wanting to see them get that messy from your pulling as his face sat in between your---

“Right,” his press officer said, “now that you’ve cooled down, let’s go.”

George nodded, making sure he didn’t look too unpresentable and took his hat from his trainer, placing it neatly on his head as is expected of him.

“We’ll be about an hour,” she turned to you.

“I’ll be in your driver’s room?” You offered.

“Yeah, figure out where you want us to eat tonight,” George said, offering you a thumbs up before walking over to the nearest unoccupied microphone.

You easily made your way back to the Mercedes hospitality, the layout of the paddock staying more or less the same regardless of where you were in the world. It was easy enough to remember, considering it was the first one in the long row of buildings—definitely an upgrade from the thirty minutes it took you to get from the centre of activities back to the Williams hospitality every weekend in the last three years.

Once back inside, you grabbed a can of Monster from the mini fridge at the front and made your way into George’s room.

You settled down, scrolling through your phone and relaxing under the breeze of the AC in George’s room. Once you finished your drink, and you checked your social media, you let your mind wander to where it was a few minutes ago. Where it always went when you spent time with George.

The pair of you doing things that friends don’t usually do with each other. Him using that cocky tone with you, him using his mouth on you, his fingers.

As you let your imagination linger on the way his lips sucked on his straw, you pushed your Mercedes shirt (the one with 63 on the back) up enough for you to have access to your tits. You rolled your nipple in between your fingers, the coolness in the room helping the sensations you were feeling, as you imagined your best friend’s fingers working on you instead.

His lips working on you, wrapping around your nipples as you tug on his short brown locks. How his stubble would feel against your abdomen.

His blue eyes looking up at you as he slid down your body and onto his knees.

You brought your free hand into your skirt, gasping at how definitely wet you were from your imagination alone. And well, maybe it helped that you were sitting on the sofa in his driver’s room that always smelled so strongly of his shampoo.

Your fingers rubbed against your clit, sending a jolt of pleasure through your thighs. You wondered to yourself, as you did many times before, just how cocky George would get when he had you gasping above him. He’d smirk at you constantly, wouldn’t he? And he probably loves hearing how good he is, he probably lets out that little chuckle of his every time you ask for more.

You sped up your fingers, pinching at your nipples as you tried to imagine just how big he was—if that’s what made him so unbearable cocky, so attractively cocky.

You could feel it building up and you went faster, urging yourself (or rather, the imaginary George in your head) to keep going, that you were so close, that please baby, that--

“He’s such a fucking prick sometimes, I swear to god!”

You jumped up, noticing the very real George in front of you and the stunned look on his face.

Holy fuck.

“Who, um, who’s a prick?” You asked quickly, tugging your shirt down and covering yourself up.

George took a moment, or maybe six, to look over you—to confirm he saw what he thinks he just saw. Although your heart was beating incredibly quick, and you could feel the blood rushing to your toes, and you made a very strong point of keeping your legs shut, you weren’t shy under his gaze.

He seemed like he was almost, unbothered at all, but what he saw.

“Will Buxton,” he answered finally. He took the hat off his head, ran a hand through his hair with a huff, and kept talking, “he was going on and on about how happy I must be to be beating Lewis.”

“Well, we both know what he was trying to get you to say,” you offered, and neither of you acknowledged the water George offered you, a very knowing look accompanying his actions.

You took a very large sip as you listened on to what George had to say, and the promise he made to one day mount Will’s head above his fireplace.

“Anyway,” George sighed as he plopped himself on the sofa next to you, “I’m starving.”

“There’s a place that looks nice about twenty minutes from here,” George nodded, “I reckon the traffic is more or less done at this point.”

“Yeah,” George nodded. “Are you gonna change first?”

You swallowed, thinking maybe now was finally the time he’ll talk about what he saw when he walked in and how you were so very clearly touching yourself and how your tits were just out but he just said, “You know I love that shirt on you but it makes us stand out.”

“Bro, I think the Formula One driver is what makes us stand out,” you retorted, grabbing one of the grey pillows beside you and throwing it at his chest.

George caught it with ease, chuckling at you as he flashed you that beautiful smile of his.

“I wanna wear my Georgie merch,” you pouted at him.

“Yeah, um, alright,” he stuttered slightly, before getting up and grabbing a change of clothes. “Shower and we’ll go.”

The dinner was no different than any other dinner you shared with George. Neither of you mentioned what George walked in on and by the time the race on Sunday was over all the pair of you could talk about was George’s phenomenal battle with the reigning world champion.

“Fuck, that felt so good,” he smiled in conclusion, and you reciprocated that smile as he rewatched the race highlights a few hours later. If you saved that soundbite for later that evening, that was between you and your trusted toy.

*

Canada was too long of a flight, and you only had two days off work that week anyway, and so you decided not to join George for that weekend. That didn’t stop the pair of you from texting each other through the day like you always did, and concluding your night with a FaceTime call. George was frustrating in the sense that whenever he called you before bed he was already shirtless under the covers.

And how the fuck were you supposed to deal with that like a normal person who was definitely not attracted to their best friend?

“So, Mr. Consistency,” you greeted him, trying your hardest to focus on his face or even your face and definitely not the dark curve of his pecs. “P4.”

“Got beat by my teammate though,” George shook his head, that determination you loved so much about him shining through your screen.

“This time, but it’s a close fight babes,” you assured him.

“I know,” he sighed, “just wanted another podium.”

“You’ll get that.”

“If we’re talking about things I want,” George said, licking his lips slowly. Your heart (and your pussy) skipped a beat, “I want that fucking win already.”

You chuckled, hoping your desire wasn’t written all over your face in capital letter.

“You’ll get that too, Georgie.”

George shifted slightly, his hand disappearing from behind his head to somewhere you couldn’t see as he coughed slightly.

“How was your day, though?”

And then the pair of you talked about your boss’ new obsession with performance reports and the new coffee place that opened up by your house and the conversation went on and on and on until you were starting to dose off.

“I think I need to sleep now, babe,” you mumbled, your phone tucked in front of you as you snuggled on your side. George smiled at you.

“Good night, beautiful,” he said, and that’s the last thing you remembered.

Silverstone wasn’t a good weekend. Seeing his teammate on the podium again when it could’ve been him broke George’s heart, and it upset him even more to be unable to even finish the first lap of his home race. Finally he had a chance to do something incredible on British soil, and that chance was taken away from him. It’s been a while since you last saw George crying, and it was your job (and honour) to rub his shoulders as he let his sobs out.

You listened to him ranting about how stupid the FIA is and how scared he was to see what happened and how Toto didn’t even have his back and all you could do was nod and listen.

“There’s next year,” you tried, and George knew that already. All he did was just shake his head.

“Is there something we can do to get your mind off it?”

George’s eyes gaped at you, taking in what you just said. You didn’t think too much of it, really, as you said it but then you realised how close the pair of you were. Your thighs were pressed against each others, and your hand around his shoulder was pulling him nearer to you, and you could see the little stubble on his cheek.

For a moment, you thought you saw George’s blue eyes flick towards your lips.

“How do you mean?” He all but whispered.

You swallowed, your throat dry and scratchy. You brought your free hand over his bicep, squeezing him. “Whatever you need to put today behind you, Georgie.”

George exhaled slowly, eyes focused on you, his breath hitting your skin. You felt warmth spread through your stomach.

“You’ll do whatever I need?” George tried to confirm, and this time you were sure George was looking at your lips. You hoped they didn’t look too dry—you licked them just to check.

You noticed his jaw got tighter for a moment.

You wanted to say something, to tell him that he could ask for anything and you’d give him that—but you didn’t know how to say it, and the more you considered it the warmer your stomach got and you were scared you might actually just stutter and it wouldn’t come out as cool as you thought it would and what were you even going to say that wouldn’t be extremely inappropriate in the very real chance that he didn’t think about you that way at all and what if you just leaned in and kissed him and--

“George!” A knock came from behind the door, pulling the pair of you away from each other. “It’s Seb!”

And then the pair had to go have a lengthy chat about the events of today, as the two heads of the GPDA, and George only came back three hours later. By that point, he had concluded watching a movie would make him forget about today.

You weren’t sure why you thought it would be anything else.

Austria was another weekend to forget, and although still scoring a top five finish—George was outraged. He was so upset he didn’t even want to say anything, repeating the mantra that at least it was good points for the team.

“You don’t have to say the media shit with me, babes,” you tried, but George just shook his head and said it again.

“Let me shower and then we can go check out that club you spotted?” You offered, thinking maybe a dance and some drinks will put him in a better mood. George nodded.

“Can I join you?”

“Yeah, I’m not going to the club alone,” you joked as you rummaged through your suitcase for something a little nicer than the baby blue shirt George gave you in Silverstone. It was a very nice shirt, the 63 on it your favourite part, but maybe it wasn’t exactly right for a night out.

“I meant in the shower,” George said, his jaw tightening for a moment.

“What?”

Silence took over the room as the pair of you just looked at each other—George’s eyes turned grey. He licked over his lips once, his teeth catching his lower lip for a moment and you could’ve sworn he looked you up and down. You’ve seen George give people this look before, but you were never on the receiving end of it.

Now—you realised that was a good thing, because seeing that look on your best friend’s face had rendered you speechless.

“I, um,” you helpfully said, after approximately twenty minutes. Seconds. One of the two.

George flashed that smile of his, then chuckled. It was empty.

“See you in a bit,” he said, walking away with his head down. You’ve never seen George look… insecure before.

That was different.

You met up with a few other drivers there, and the music was just alright, and so a bit after midnight you decided you were tired and wanted to go back to the hotel. George put his drink down in an instant and grabbed your hand, taking you outside to find a taxi.

“So,” he started, hands tucked into his pocket, “did you find anyone nice in there?”

You were a few shots in, and if you weren’t so concerned about the chance of losing George, you would’ve told him there’s no one you want other than him. You would’ve told him it’s his face you see as you touch yourself at night, you would’ve told him you’d do anything to be able to kiss him and suck him off and ride him.

But you weren’t drunk enough to say anything like that. Instead, “wasn’t looking for that tonight. Just wanted a dance. What about you, racing driver?”

George chuckled, his eyes finding a spot way above your head as his smile took over his face.

“No one I could have really,” he shrugged.

“You? Striking out?” You fake gasped at him, adding a hand to your chest for dramatic effect.

“I didn’t even try,” he confessed.

“What?” You grabbed his arm, shaking him slightly. “Since when do you chicken out?”

“What does that mean?” He asked, eyes gleaming, as you drunkly swayed next to him—his bicep acting as a form of anchor for your body.

“I’ve never met anyone as confident as you are, Georgie, it’s truly inspiring.”

He shook his head, the smile still stuck to his face. “Well, it’s a bit more complex.”

“Oooooh,” you let out loudly. “Tea?”

“Stop,” he laughed, rolling his eyes at you.

“Come on,” you gasped, “you’re not gonna tell your bestie all about it?”

“I will when you’re not this hammered,” he said, bringing a hand around your shoulder. You let him pull you into his chest, finding warmth in his body as you wrapped your arms around his waist.

“I think you could get anyone you wanted,” you said, rubbing your hands up his back, “you’re the best person I’ve ever met.”

“Thanks,” he said, lightly pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“Plus you’re fit as fuck,” you said, speaking in the lower voice you used when you were mocking George and your other male friends.

“You’re fit as fuck, too,” he laughed, and escorted you into the taxi that had finally arrived.

France was good. France was really really good. Not only did George take his first pole position in F1, but he managed to convert it into a win—and the pair of you were out celebrating all night.

George hugged you first as he got out of the car and he gave you the comically large champagne bottle for safe keeping and he wouldn’t keep his arm off your shoulder as the four of you (press officer and trainer included) walked throughout the paddock so George could speak to absolutely everyone that wanted to hear from the new race winner.

The smile just wouldn’t leave his beautiful face all night, and honestly, you weren’t complaining. You’d pay good money to see that smile so vividly on his face—and you were lucky enough to be in pole position of that sight.

You even got a new lockscreen out of it; George’s arm around you as you held the champagne and he held the gorilla trophy, his pirelli hat soaked through from the podium showers.

It was the prettiest picture you’ve had of George, and the fact you looked oddly like a couple in it didn’t go unnoticed by your mutual friends.

But they didn’t comment on it to your face.

You weren’t able to attend another race after that, but George promised you it was alright. It was the summer break soon anyway—and he had planned to spend as much of it as he could with you and your friendship group.

You couldn’t take any time off until Amsterdam, and George was always understanding of that, so you made the most of the time he got to spend back in the UK. Nights out and picnics and beach days and sight seeing and anything the group of you wanted to do, and it was so refreshing to have George there with you guys.

It was three days before he was meant to fly out to Spa and one of your friends was having a house party at theirs.

There was beer pong and shots and Spotify’s Top 40 playing in the living room. Naturally, you and George teamed up together to become unbeatable at beer pong—although truly, it was mostly George that did the work. You just drank if someone scored into your cups.

The night went on and on and at one point a few of you went to sit on the huge trampoline in your friend’s garden.

Without thinking, you rested your head on George’s lap. His fingers found your hair in an instance.

“So George,” one of your friends prompted, “you’re gonna win another one this year?”

“Damn hope so,” he said, and even though you couldn’t see his face you knew his eyebrows jumped up at that.

“You better,” they offered back.

“Wait until Zandvoort though because I don’t wanna miss it,” you said. George soothingly rubbed circles into your scalp.

“You should come to all my races, I could win any of them,” he said. There’s a reason he’s called Mr. Consistency, you thought to yourself.

“Sadly, I have bills to pay, sir,” you huffed.

“If George makes you his trophy wife you’ll be sorted,” your friend pointed out. The fingers in your hair stopped moving.

“Ha ha, very funny,” you managed to say.

The conversation shifted when one of your friends came from inside the house to beg for a teammate in another round of beer pong, and the talks of a trophy wife were forgotten. But you very much noticed how stiff George became after that.

A few weeks (and one Monza podium) later, you were back with George. Maybe all your friends noticed you were attending a lot more races than you did last year—and a lot more than all of them combined. Most of your friends came to Monaco and Silverstone, and sometimes Abu Dhabi. But you already had half a dozen under your belt.

You weren’t complaining though, you loved going to the tracks, and your best friend wanted you there—so what was wrong with it?

You thought maybe you should encourage George to invite a few of your other friends out as often, too.

“Yeah, but your my best friend,” George pointed out once you brought up the subject. “I don’t want a bunch of people around me all weekend.”

“I’m around you all weekend,” you said.

“I want you around me all weekend.” And maybe you didn’t quite hear the end of that sentence, as a blush took over your face.

“But if you don’t want to come so much that’s fine, I know it’s exhausting to travel and you’re using all your time off work to be here--”

“—don’t be ridiculous, Russell,” you threw a hand around.

“Last naming me?” He gasped at you.

“That’s how ridiculous you’re being,” you said, and George accepted that with a meaningful nod.

At that, you got back to your phone, and so did George, and the pair of you sat on the sofa in his hotel room as you spent your Friday night relaxing before George’s big day tomorrow.

You perched your legs on his lap, and at one point or another George moved closer to you so his large hand rested on your thigh.

If he drew circles on your leggings, inching up and down your thigh, you definitely weren’t going to tell him to stop.

“Y/N,” he said, bringing your eyes away from the never ending scroll you were putting yourself through, “can I ask something?”

“Sure,” you locked your phone, bringing your attention over to your best friend.

“Remember Barcelona?”

You nodded slowly.

“Those moves on Max?” You tried confirming, thinking back to that weekend and not remembering much else of note.

“What happened in my driver’s room,” he corrected you. The hand on your thigh had stopped moving, George tucking it in between your legs like he usually did when his hands were cold.

It wasn’t cold in September.

As soon as George said it, you remembered exactly what happened. You must’ve blocked it out of your mind but now it was coming back to you in it’s full glory—reminding you of the terrifying moment your half naked body just sat there as George looked at you.

Why was he bringing this up?

“Um, George, I,”

“I’m sorry I interrupted you that day,” he said, looking at the hand tucked between your legs.

“Oh, don’t worry,” you chuckled lightly, “it would’ve been weird if I kept going, I think.”

“Would it?” George finally turned to look at you, his eyes showing you that same beautiful fire they had before George got in a car on a Saturday. Maybe it was just starting early this week.

“I was in your room, it’s not like I should’ve done that there…” you trailed off.

“I didn’t mind,” he said simply, “I don’t mind.”

“Sorry?”

“If you wanted to do that again in my room, you can,” he licked his lips. You realised his hand wasn’t as close to your knees as it was last time you checked. It sat much higher now.

“We’re in your room now,” you pointed out, your voice catching in your throat lightly.

“We are,” George agreed.

You locked eyes, his stare burning into you as he raised his eyebrows lightly. As if to ask if he can push you any more. You nodded.

George moved his hand down your inner thigh and grabbed it, pulling your leg upwards and disconnecting your thighs from each other. You wondered if there was a visible wet patch—but your leggings were black. You could feel the wetness either way.

“It was a really interesting sight, you know,” George said, watching as you slowly spread your legs in front of him, “you touching yourself in a Mercedes shirt.”

“Can’t recreate it for you,” you smiled apologetically at him, shrugging at your blue tank top.

Before you could even predict his next move, George pulled his own Mercedes shirt off and handed it to you.

You felt your breath hitch.

You nodded slightly, grabbing the shirt from him as you ripped off your tank top.

George was staring, his eyes raking over your skin like a lion after its prey.

It made you feel powerful, and his heavy gaze on your blue bra gave you the courage to reach behind your back and drop the bra to his floor.

“Fuck,” he let out as he looked at your exposed chest.

A twitch in his hand made it seem like he wanted to reach forward and grab your tits, but something stopped him from doing so—and all he did was watch as you pulled his shirt over your head, your nipples poking out against the white material.

“What now?” You asked him, as if to give him a way out of this. But George didn’t want one, and instead he smirked at you in that cocky way of his.

“Touch yourself.”

You never thought you’d hear George say those words, let alone to you, and so how could you deny him that request?

You brought one hand to your chest, glad you freed yourself from the constrict of your bra, and swirled your nipple in between your fingers. Your mouth hung open as you tried to control your breathing—the pleasure already running up and down your body.

“You don’t have to be quiet,” George suggested, leaning back as he took in the sight in front of him, “it’s not like you aren’t allowed to touch.”

As soon as he said those words, you let a moan escape your lips. Maybe it was the words themselves, the implications behind them, or his stupid cocky tone, but it turned you on even more.

“That’s my girl,” he smirked.

“Oh, fuck,” you let out, and George’s eyes sparkled at that reaction.

You scrunched the shirt up, getting a whiff of George’s perfume, and brought both your hands to your chest—the fabric no longer in the way as you pinched and twisted and pulled.

“There you go,” George encouraged, “make sure it feels good.”

“It feels really good, George,” you sighed, gasping as you pulled harder on your nipples.

“Do you wanna touch anywhere else?” He asked, looking you up and down with a glimmer of a lust on his features. It almost felt like he wanted to devour you.

You wanted that, too.

“Yeah,” you gasped.

“Where do you wanna touch, baby?”

“Wanna, fuck, wanna touch my pussy,” you said, your eyes glazing over slightly as you couldn’t quite comprehend you just said that word to George.

“You wanna touch your pussy?” He confirmed. You nodded desperately at him. “Was that what you were doing in my room?”

“Yes,”

“You were touching yourself when you knew I could walk in, huh?”

You knew where this was going now, and you knew how insufferably cocky he was going to get in two seconds, but you didn’t fucking care. You wanted to play whatever this game was—and if it was possible, you wanted to win it.

“I wanna show you how I touch myself, Georgie,” you let out.

It almost sounded like George growled at you, and he quickly nodded his head—leaning forward to get a closer look at your hands.

You brought them down towards your clothed pussy, gasping as you realised you soaked through your underwear and leggings. You felt your face heat up.

“What is it?” George asked, seeing the surprise on your features.

“It’s really wet,” you gasped, rubbing circles on your clit.

“Show me,” George demanded. You dipped a finger inside your underwear, gasping at the contact, making sure to coat it in your wetness before you showed it off for George to see.

He bit his lip at the sight, his hand running over his hair.

“That’s fucking hot,” he praised, palming himself for a moment before he brought his attention back to you.

You kept going, using your fingers on yourself in the ways you knew would send you over the edge, and having George’s tight gaze on you only made it feel better,

You took in his features, how tight his jaw looked, the way his eyebrows scrunched in the middle slightly, the way his chest stood so beautifully in front of you—just asking to be touched and kissed and marked.

Then, you noticed the tent in his sweats.

“Touch yourself, George,” you let out quickly, wanting nothing more than to see George in the exact position he put you in.

George didn’t need to be told twice, and he quickly moved his sweats down to his thighs, a small wet patch on his boxers.

He freed himself, the sight of him fully hard making your mouth water.

“I think I have some catching up to do,” he said when he noticed your breathing got a lot heavier, and your movements much quicker.

You nodded frantically at him, barely able to say anything, as you watched his fist pumping up and down his length.

He definitely had a reason to be as cocky as he was.

The pair of you locked eyes again, each focusing on the movements of your own hands, and the sinful sights in front of you, and before long George was shutting his eyes as he moaned into the room.

That was the best sound you’ve ever heard.

“I’m close,” you said desperately.

“I’m close, too,” he nodded.

“Together?”

“Fuck, yes,”

You sped up your movements even more, the noises coming out of your mouth even more desperate than they’ve been all night, and in a matter of seconds you felt something snap within you and that fantastic curl in your toes.

It wasn’t long after that George threw his head back, a hot white pleasure taking over his face as cum shot onto his exposed stomach.

“Fucking hell, George,” you let out in a chuckle.

All you wanted to do was lean forward and clean his stomach with your tongue, but instead you reached over for a few tissues on the side table by the sofa.

“Thanks,” he cleaned himself off quickly, taking a second to catch his breath. “Can I get you something?”

“Water, please,” George quickly got up and grabbed a drink from the mini fridge, opening the bottle for you and handing it over. You could barely sit up straight, the sensitivity in your core sending tingles up and down your body.

You were almost tempted to ask George if you could go again.

But instead, the pair of you just sank back to your previous position, George shifting your legs so they were back on his lap.

“Want some food?”

And that was that.

George got on the podium that Sunday, and Max invited everyone to go out to his favourite part of Amsterdam, and what happened on Friday night was all but forgotten.

Or at least that’s how you acted. But almost every night, when you couldn’t fall asleep, you replayed the events of that day in your head—your orgasm hitting you just as strongly as the night before.

But it was never as good as when George was right there in front of you.

[lunargrapejuice]

hello luna my love <33 how are you? i would love to participate in the blooming love event, it's so adorable!! also the diluc fics youve been posting recently are chefs kiss im eating them up hhh

info for the matchup event:

gender preference: male pls 🙏

about me: i'm rather introverted in general but lively in familiar company! it can take a bit for me to be comfortable but when i am i make jokes every other minute and i try my best to be the life of the conversation <3 i LOVE stoic men with my whole heart and i have a deep seated desire to be some guy's wife that he won't shut up about :")

prompt: either sundress or sunlight would be wonderful!

i match you with..

✿ alhaitham

“wait! grand sage, we - we weren’t finished.”

“acting grand sage,” alhaitham corrects, stopping in his pursuit to leave this conference room as quickly as possible. he would have thought by now they’d have learned that he doesn’t work outside of office hours and he had almost made it to the door but still they stopped him. “we will continue this tomorrow, during my office hours. my wife is waiting for me.”

he knows he doesn’t need to add that last part, he’s said it every time they wanted to keep him longer, nearly as much as he’s corrected those who keep forgetting the ‘acting’ part of his title but he just couldn’t help himself. and as he turned back around, making his way out the door without another word, he feels the corner of his lips tug upwards at the thought of you actually waiting for him.

it had become routine, he’d say. walking you to work in the morning before heading to the akademiya just for you to find your way there later in the day to walk home with him. the best part of a long work day as sage. life was so much simpler when he was just the scribe, it was easy to slip out of his office and head to wherever you were but as acting grand sage, that so many needed the attention of, it was much harder to get away with.

he hardly pays any mind to those he passes by on his way out the painted glass doors, shining bright blue in the sunlight, and heads down the path leading to where you always wait for him, near the flowerpot a bit away from where the researchers usually stood and argued. like every day, there you were leaning against the railing, admiring the flowers that had begun to bloom as spring set in.

at the sight of you in the blue and pink light, in a sundress he had yet to see you in before, he felt a flutter in his rib cage, like gentle satin wings knocking against him and drawing warmth from his heart. it wasn’t unusual for you to do this to him, not that you’d be able to tell by looking at him, but today it felt.. wilder. like the heat blossoming under his tight shirt was going to reach his ears.

“i see they had you for a bit of overtime today. a whole two minutes, how did you ever survive?” you tease the moment you look up and see him only a few steps away, making your way to his side and accepting his extended hand.

to your surprise he tugs you closer, enough so that you can smell the lingering scent of rose water and hibiscus clinging to him from his morning shower, feel the rise and fall of his steady breaths.

“it was easy knowing my beautiful wife was waiting for me.”

authors note: aaaaaaa rae <333 💕💖💓💞💖💕💕 i was so excited and giddy writting this🥰💕💖 im still feeling all gooey inside heheh. i've been doing much better, i hope you've been doing good!🥺💖 it always makes me so happy to see you in my notes and on my dash - just why are you so amazing fjdkdkdkdkd

thank you for waiting for me to do this🥺 i appriciate you and i really hoped you enjoy it! xoxoxo🥰💓💞💗💕💖💖

main masterlist | blooming love match ups

[catb-fics]

SFW Alphabet: H for Hugs

Just a little bit of silly fluff for my Valentine’s countdown 💗

SFW Alphabet Masterlist Main Masterlist

H= Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

💗 Van is a big on physical contact as he's such an affectionate person - he won't hesitate to pull you into a hug any time, any place.

💗 You'd always found yourself a bit touched out by people who were overly physical, but that just fell by the wayside when you met Van.

💗 The first time you shared a hug you two barely knew each other (although you'd admired him from afar for some time) so you were surprised when Larry formally introduced you and he went in for a hug straight away!

💗 You only felt awkward for all of about two seconds before you melted into his arms.

💗 He was so warm and super-soft and he smelt so good, you were embarrassed as you held on maybe just a little bit too tight.

💗 Van never said anything but the little smirk on his face and the twinkle of mischief in his eye as you finally parted told you full well that he'd enjoyed it just as much as you had.

💗 Fast forward a month, a few outings to the local pub and a couple of cosy film nights at Van's  (and plenty of hugs) and you'd admitted your feelings to one another.

💗 And the hugs just kept coming...

💗 Van can't keep his hands to himself, he always likes to be touching you. He likes to feel that physical connection.

💗 He always feels warm even when it's cold outside. It comes in handy in winter... it's like having your own personal hot water bottle on hand.

💗 But his hands aren't always warm as you find out when he tries to slip them under your jumper to warm them up!

💗 His hugs are never rushed, even when you're late for work and in a rush to leave the house in the morning he won't let you go until you've had your hug and kiss goodbye.

💗 When he's leaving for tour he'll hug you a little tighter and a little longer and you close your eyes, taking everything in, the vibrations of his heartbeat, the scent of his cologne, the way his arms feel wrapped around you. You want to remember it clearly for those lonely nights when you’re apart.

💗 He's just the right height for cuddling... you feel like pieces of a perfect puzzle fitting together.

💗 Hugs from behind, often when you're least expecting it. He wraps his arms around you tight, engulfing you in his warmth, his face buried into your hair or neck.

💗 Neck nuzzling... it's ticklish but when his lips find that sensitive spot you're like putty in his hands.

💗 Morning hugs lying in bed with you as the little spoon, naked limbs entwined whilst he scatters sweet kisses all over every bit of exposed skin he can find.

💗 You especially like this when it's cold and gloomy outside, the rain lashing down on your windows. You can just shut out the rest of the world and get lost in each other.

💗 The best hugs are the ones where you've been apart and you've missed each other so much. It just feels so right being back in each other's arms.

💗 He wraps his arms around you and pulls you in so close and he's breathing in the scent of your hair and you feel like you're positively gonna pop if he squeezes you any tighter!

💗 "Van I'm gonna burst in a minute! You're gonna have to let me go!" He loosens his grip a little but still doesn't let go. "Sorry love, I'm just in my happy place... don't ever wanna let you go. I've missed ya so much."

💗 Airport hugs where he'll drop his luggage in an instant to pick you up and whirl you around, showering you with kisses. You cling to him like a koala bear, legs wrapped around his waist! You don't care if you're in a public place.

💗 Did I already mention he smells good? (Apart from straight after a gig!)

💗 But you still love sweaty post-gig hugs, he's hyper and pumped up on adrenaline and it's such a turn on seeing him on stage that those hugs more often than not end up leading on to more...

💗 And there's definitely a hug for every occasion... Feeling sad? Comforting hugs where he holds you close and gently strokes your hair. Feeling tired? Sleepy hugs where you lie on his chest and the steady sound of his heartbeat lulls you. Feeling horny? Steamy hugs where hot, wet kisses are pressed to your neck whilst he grips your hips and grinds against you. Feeling crampy and hormonal? Caring hugs where you'll lie on the sofa with him behind, rubbing soothing touches on your belly.

💗 There's nothing that makes your feel safer or more secure than when you're enveloped in his warm embrace.

[dangerously-human]

for the fic writer game: 3, 4 for take his hand, 8, 20 for merry metamorphosis (am I trying to make you write pregnancy fic... maybe), 27 for ch2 of here's a safe place, 37, 49

3. What are some tropes or details that you think are very characteristic of your fics?

I write a lot of family life for traumatized characters, stuff that requires a lot of intentional growth but also leaves space for tenderness. Love me some literal sleeping together, too. I mostly write post-canon, and a lot of introspection. And I think I'm always working off of an assumption of redeeming the narrative, in a sense - not that things will always go well, but they will always have meaning. It's the Christian worldview, I suppose.

4. What detail in [Take His Hand] are you really proud of?

Honestlyyyy, I could wax rhapsodic talking about this fic and how it came to be. Lucy's chapter may be killing me a little bit, but there were parts of Lockwood's that truly feel like they came from outside of me (we've talked before about the Holy Spirit influence on this one). I know I already mentioned this in my reply to your comment, but the fact that Lockwood was praying with his old rosary beads from when he was a kid when the call from Penelope Fittes comes in says a lot. It's a nod to (part of) what Lockwood chose to pray about, after all those years of distance - the right opportunity to invite Lucy to come home - and it also ties the success of the company to a lasting legacy for the Lockwood family, which is such a key aspect of understanding Lockwood himself and just what he's trying to include Lucy in. It also says that he unpacked the literal box of memories, however painful, even if he's not 100% ready to unpack the metaphorical one - except he has started to, he's praying and acknowledging the God he feels let him down (or maybe the other way around, depending on the day), and he's doing this thing that reminds him so strongly of Jessica and their shared grief. It's not "solved," Lockwood still has a long way to go and a lot of Jacob-like wrestling with the Lord to do, but at least he's stopped running in the opposite direction and actually let himself feel something - which is what the Black Winter is all about, in his arc. I could go on about this for ages, truly.

8. What song would make a great fic (to either write or read)?

Captives Come Home by Run Kid Run is just BEGGING for Other Side fic, - please, the number of times the lyrics repeat stuff about creeping shadows and the other side! - and maybe I'll write it eventually but I'd be equally happy to read it if someone else did. Would love to see it start with Lockwood and Lucy's first crossing ("There's hope inside that box you close/That only opens when your life explodes/On the other side, come home"), then tackle when the whole crew is there ("Don't you know you gotta get up/Get up and find a way back home?/So hold on tight, let's go/Leave behind false sense of hope/Where creeping shadows call your name") and then focus on post-canon efforts to clear the fences so the captive spirits can finally reach their final destinations ("As I'm waiting for the world to end/I'm clinging on to oxygen/I'm pulling captives by the hand/Come home, come home"). I have not shut up since my first read through TCS about the Harrowing of Hell imagery and, yeah, I just think I deserve this one, as a treat.

20. If you wrote a prequel to [A Merry Metamorphosis], what would it involve?

I know I already said this to you the other day, but bestie, do I have good news for you! Next (new) project on the list is literally this. 😆 To be fair, it doesn't exactly take a lot to encourage me to write pregnancy/kidfic, lol. But yeah, been thinking a lot about protectiveness and what that would look like for Lucy and Lockwood as they prepare for a baby, and how that would interact with their work (logistically and emotionally), considering they're still pretty young when they have Ivy.

27. How long did it take to write [Here's a Safe Place to Lay Your Heart Down ch. 2]? Describe the process.

FKlejgklaegl well. According to the date I created that Scrivener file, parts of that chapter were written in early September, and I just published it to AO3 last weekend, so you can do the math. Here's the thing about Lay Your Heart Down: while the core themes/message remained the same throughout, it went through several iterations in how I conceptualized it, and that made the writing process AGONIZING, because it was a constant repetition of knit/purl steps and untangling and reworking. (I don't knit, so take my metaphor with a grain of salt.) Honestly, this mostly came about because I kept asking myself if The Necklace counted as an engagement ring in Lockwood's mind, which obviously I kind of answered in Woke Up in a Safe House Singing, and that pivoted to a very vivid idea of how Lockwood would think about picking out a ring for Lucy and what it would look like and why. So. That could have been a drabble, but I also have a lot of feelings about the Touch/possession scene in the second episode, and that had to go somewhere!! And overlapped a lot, thematically. So a lot of the Lockwood having a self-isolating freakout stuff from ch. 2 was written first, plus the bit immediately after THB with the broken headphones and remembering watching Lucy dancing. All that used to be together in one chapter, which was going to be sandwiched between Lockwood picking out the ring and a sweet future scene that featured the ring somehow - the narrative started out even less linear than it ended up. (That final scene is now its own WIP.) Then I ended up with all the canon-era relationship development in the first chapter and the second could focus on that core conflict, Lockwood panicking about those lines from the show - "he gave me the ring, he wouldn't hurt me" - but in the context of all the various ways he could get Lucy hurt, because old conflicts (internal and interpersonal) tend to reemerge at transition points like the engagement period. A couple things that got me unstuck with this chapter were actually writing out more of what happened on the job that went wrong, letting Lucy be more upset (while still understanding), working out that Lockwood's fear this time was less about Lucy getting hurt and more about being the reason for that happening, and drawing direct parallels to Fairfax and Annabel (which in turn let me work in that good stuff about devotion and mutual belonging).

37. Promote one of your own “deep cut” fics (an underrated one, or one that never got as much traction as you think it deserves!). What do you like about it?

I'm not shocked Onward, Ontologically has gotten very few eyes on it - if nothing else, Continuum is a tiny fandom, even less active now than when I was originally writing for it, plus Kiera and Alec are a complicated ship (I'm often curious if they would still be a rarepair if the fandom were larger, though - I could see it going either way). It worked for my Yuletide recipient, though, and that's all that really matters. I really like the quiet domesticity of it, and that it leaves space for the S3 conflict between Alec and Kiera to remain somewhat unresolved - I like complicated, and I don't think an easy resolution would have been realistic after everything these two went through and did to each other, and the tangled doppelganger web.

Within this fandom, one I wish got a little more love was Smoke & Shield. Gen is usually a bit, idk the right word, quieter? So I wasn't expecting as much excitement as with my Locklyle works, but I do think it's a really good character study of Jessica and her relationship with her little brother. I got some truly lovely comments on it that tell me it still found an audience to resonate with, though!

49. What are you currently working on? Share a few lines if you’re up for it!

Well, since you attacked us all with baby fever, here's a snippet from the "Lucy learns she's pregnant with #4 via George's powers of observation" fic. (I don't think I've posted this bit before? Idk, this is the problem with lingering WIPs!) I've been WIP-hopping a lot, but this is one that's gotten a bit more focus lately:

With arms outstretched to take one twin off my husband’s hands, I explained, “I’m not even sure yet myself. It honestly hadn’t occurred to me until George said something, but…” My voice got smaller as I finished, “I think he might be right.” Transfer completed, Lockwood let his hand linger, then drop to hover just over my belly. At the open wonder on his face, I blushed. It wasn’t as though we hadn’t done this part before - twice, in fact - yet it seemed even at the mere possibility, he couldn’t help looking at me like I was made of something magic. To be fair, that wasn’t all that far off from Lockwood’s normal.

[glowingbadger]

As a result of my new-found appreciation of Ferdinand, I would like to request 16 for him. Fem reader, thanks.

Yessss, time for Ferdinand von Goodboi

And those of you who have been following for a bit may know that I've always headcanoned Ferdie as being absolutely hung, so, uh... add a little bit of "size kink" to this too I guess lmao

Ferdinand (FE3H) x AFAB Reader

Kink prompt list #16 - praise kink

NSFW 18+ V

Even on nights like tonight, when Ferdinand has dedicated himself to spoiling you to the best of his ability, kissing a worshipful path along your body, burying himself between your thighs until you'd trembled and cried his name- he's still rendered utterly powerless when you meet his gaze and sweetly ask to ride his cock. The first few times, he'd required some coaxing. He'd gone on about how it would be "ignoble to make you exert yourself," or some such. By now, he hardly objects; you both know how he adores watching your body above him. He still checks in, of course. "Are you certain you would not prefer that I tend to you?", "Do tell me the moment you begin to feel exhausted," and so on. But by the time you're straddling his hips and running your hands down his beautifully sculpted torso, he's watching you with open adoration and anticipation.

Ferdinand's hair spills across your pillow in amber ripples and waves. His fair skin is flushed pink, his muscles tense as your touch grazes down his lower stomach to where his needy cock waits eagerly for you. Strong hands admire the curves of your body, caressing you as you guide his cockhead between your thighs and it parts the plush lips of your pussy. He's big, so you move slowly as you lower yourself onto his throbbing member.

"Haa... Darling..." he breathes out as you sink down onto him, his expression ever more blissful and more pleading. You moan his name softly in reply as he fills you, stretches you around him. Biting at your lip, you run your hands down his chest and murmur,

"Mmh, you feel so good, Ferdie," you notice the way his hands tightly grip your thighs in reply, the way his face burns to a darker shade of red. Your hips begin to move above him at a slow and erotic pace, grinding him against your clinging inner walls- and while you know he adores the feeling of you squeezing so tight around his huge member, you've long suspected that there's something else he wants even more than physical sensation.

"You're so big, love," you say with a smile, a hand cradling his face, "And the rest of you is beautiful, too. I'm so lucky to have such a gorgeous lover who's so dedicated to pleasing me."

"Any... Anything for you, my love- I swear it," he gasps out, his lips parted, chest rising and falling as his breath comes heavier and his hands flex tight at the curve of your hips. As always, he's putting in a token effort to keep himself composed, but you know the effect your praise has on him. As you openly moan and whimper for him, encouraging him as his hips buck up to meet you, you feel his cock twitch and strain even harder inside of you. Yes- what Ferdinand wants even more dearly than the feeling of your soaked cunt gripping around his length, is your approval.

"You're so good to me, Ferdie," you coo sweetly, even as you feel your climax mounting, the tense heat building as the head of his cock hits deep at your core, "Mmh-! You- you make me feel incredible-! You're... gonna make me-!"

"Please, darling-" he pleads, his grip almost painfully tight at your hips, his manhood twitching as he thrusts up into you, "I beg you- let me watch you cum..!"

Briefly, you recall how not long ago, the word "cum" had been deemed too filthy for Ferdinand's vocabulary. Yet one more way your encouragement has drawn him out of his noble shell.

Your mind goes blank in an instant soon after- your body hot and tingling with pleasure as you gasp aloud and let your climax overtake you. Your soaked warmth squeezes and coils around him, but you know that the sight of you basking in the pleasure his efforts have given is what truly brings Ferdinand to his own release, as though in direct response. His abdomen tenses, his head tilting back on the pillow as he groans your name and pours out his cum deep inside of you. Throbbing powerfully with each pulse of his orgasm, his climax only prolongs your own, the high consuming you both until you're each weak and panting for breath.

You pause for a moment, regaining yourselves even while his cock remains nestled deep in you, coated in your combined release. He's only barely begun to soften, but you don't pull up from him just yet.

"Good job, Ferdie," you half-moan, "You're always such a good boy for me..."

His manhood throbs, gradually returning to its full, impressive length. Ferdinand groans your name aloud like a lustful plea, and you can't help the playful grin across your lips. Something tells you that with just a bit of encouragement, he'll be ready for another round.

[dracothefoxdragon]

A recounting of my personal experiences with autism as a furry, feelings of being non human, and a thank-you letter to @patricia-taxxon (which is hopefully not weird and parasocial, but rather inspiring).

This is a long one, so full story under the cut:

I have never been truly dehumanized by people on purpose, most people i've talked to probably wouldn't know i'm autistic unless i told them. Yet i still don't really fit in with what's considered "normal", exactly. I regularly tap the side of my head as a stim, confusing friends and parents really hard. I barely talk to people i don't care for, but to the few people i do hold dearly, i'm a chatterbox. I do a sort of running and jumping jog whenever i go get some water. Nothing i do really feels human, despite my human body showing everyone otherwise. My fursona is a fox dragon hybrid, like if you grabbed a fox and made it huge, gave them some wings and horns and fire breath. Typical furry thing, but i really clinged to it. Being a fox and a dragon at once just fits with me. Hoarding things that matter to me, having a den where i feel safe, that sense of strength being kept hidden by shadow unless provoked makes me feel like a dragon. Yet the soft fur of a fox, the joyful frolicking with friends, a playful but ultimately good natured mischievousness makes me feel like a fox. Being a hybrid makes sense to me. I never made a backstory for this character, since that would imply he has parents, and i don't have a healthy relationship with my own parents to think about that. I never experienced things that people in the otherkin community have like phantom limbs, and i don't really considered myself to be otherkin, i look in the mirror and see the flesh and skin that makes me look human, and accepted that as undying proof of what i am. I never got to think much about not being human because it seemed... wrong. Like i'm escaping myself, despite not really knowing what i am. Things changed when i watched Patricia Taxxon's video "On the Ethics of Boinking Animal People" (A strange title to those who haven't seen it, but please watch it if you haven't). That's how i really noticed what the appeal of being a furry really is. That mix of human and animal is inherent, always played with and aknowledged with the highest sincerity. That's how i noticed that not feeling human is inherent to being autistic. I feel more secure about this now. I am a fox dragon. I am not truly human, rather a creature of warmth, who loves and protects a select few people who matter to me. I am power, yet also comfort. I feel like there's something inherently queer about being a furry: being alienated by society at large, forming a tight knit group of people who care for eachother and exploring themselves despite what a "normal" person would think. I suppose what i'm trying to say is: Thanks Patricia. You helped a fox dragon guy feel better about himself. Your art means more to people than what you may think. I'd offer a part of my hoard to you as thanks if capitalism didn't exist and the postal service was nicer. I'll keep being myself from now on and let my fur comfort those who need the help that i did.

[softquietsteadylove]

Dear!

The Mermaid AU is absolutely amazing! Can you write some cute fluff? Maybe Gil is cooking for Thena while she's examining his house further and asking questions about all of his stuff.

🖤✨ Hugs and much love!! ✨🖤

Gil turned down the stove burner with their seafood chowder to let it simmer. Cliche or not, Thena really did like any recipe he had with any form of sea life in it. Even just seaweed soup seemed to whet her appetite.

He kept one ear trained on the living room while he was cooking. Thena had fallen asleep on his shoulder on the boat ride home, leaving him to carry her inside. He had initially thought about putting her in his bed, but he wanted her a little closer. He wanted to know a little more certainly that she really was safe here, with him.

She had been strung up in a net just a few hours ago, after all.

He had gotten her to the couch, pulled his shirt on over her head for when she split her tail later on, laid a blanket over her. Her skin still had red marks on it from where she had been thrashing against the net's hold, but he assumed she would heal those up for herself.

He still wasn't sure if it was the right move to keep her on land with him, but he had to admit that it pleased the more selfish part of him--the part that wanted to keep her close so he could protect her. If the only ways to protect her were to keep her with him or send her away, he definitely had a preference between them, even if he still believed that the other method would have been just as effective.

Gil chopped up the celery, the last vegetable he was adding, hoping it would stay a little crunchy while absorbing the creamy soup. Thena was fascinated by plenty, but especially loved crunchy foods. She said she had always wondered what it would be like to take a bite of coral - like a parrotfish - and that this was much better.

He blinked as a pair of arms wrapped around him from behind. "You a Cuddlefish, now?"

Thena pressed her face further into his back.

"Hey," he whispered, raising his arms up to try and turn around in her tight embrace. He manged it somehow, bringing his arms around her delicate waist. "You okay?"

"I'm sorry," she all but whimpered into his shirt miserably. "What if that man comes after you?"

"It's okay," Gil assured as best he could, rubbing his hand over her arm. "As long as you're safe, that's all that matters to me."

Thena just sighed, still clinging to him, as he found she was rather prone to do whenever she had her legs on. "What are you making?"

"Chowder--it's a creamy soup, and I added lots of fish for you," he smiled. She was still burrowed into the front of him, but he couldn't imagine how much she was reeling from being caught like that...no pun intended. "Are you hungry?"

She nodded. "They offered me some fish, but..."

Of course she hadn't wanted to eat in front of her captors. Gil kissed the top of her head, "do you want a little snack while this finishes?"

She finally pulled her head up to peek at him.

"I got more of those dried sardines," he drawled, attempting to tease a smile out of her. He had discovered that she loved the dried little fishes that crumbled to the touch. Maybe they were like a bag of chips, or popcorn to her.

Thena finally managed a smile, small and fragile, but real. He could practically imagine her tail wiggling in delight. "You did?"

"Just for you," he promised, tapping her nose as she released him to hunt for her new favourite snack food. "Cupboard?"

Thena looked around herself for a second before reaching out and just barely pressing her finger to one of the many small doors lining the kitchen.

"Good, top and on the right," Gil nodded. He was all too happy to encourage her exploration of his home--a human home.

Thena moved her hand from the bottom cabinet to one of the ones above the counter. She pressed her fingertips to each door one at a time, until she was at the end. She looked at him, and after receiving a nod, she opened it delicately.

The first one she had ever tried she had ripped right off its hinges, assuming it would have some resistance to it. She had apologised in a panic but Gil let her watch him screw it right back on with a spare hinge--no harm done. She liked watching him use tools.

Thena pulled out the crinkling bag of little fish with a bright grin, showing off her fangs. She ripped it open, inhaling like someone might with a beautiful bouquet of flowers.

Gil was enchanted by just the sight of her.

She closed the cupboard door again and came back over to him, looking infinitely more comfortable with her hand wrist deep in the bag, shovelling sardines into her mouth. "What is that?"

"Hm?" Gil looked around him, moving his hand slowly until he could find what exactly she was asking about. "The stove?"

She nodded.

"Hm," Gil paused; how to explain the entirety of an oven. "Well, most houses have them now. They used to just be a metal shell you could build a fire in. But now we can use electricity and gasoline to make much smaller, more controlled fires so we can cook with them."

"You like cooking," she surmised as she took a seat at the table, her favourite spot from which she could watch him work. "You're good at it."

Gil shrugged with some modesty, not that it mattered to the woman who was used to snatching fish as she swam alongside them and tearing into them raw. "I've always liked cooking. It always makes people happy and brings them together."

Thena tilted her head a few times. Gil was comforted by the sight of one of her many personal habits. "It does make people happy, doesn't it?"

Gil nodded, coming to sit down with her. He was honoured when she offered a small pile of her precious snack. He would be worried about her ruining her appetite if he had any concept of how much she could and couldn't eat. He picked up a few in his fingers, "do you eat meals together?"

She considered his question, knowing he was referring to when she was among her own underwater. "If you're hunting together, you'll eat together, but we don't go to an effort to gather for it."

Gil had plenty of curiosities of his own about her, but with most of his larger questions answered by now, he had started asking the little things. The questions that seemed almost silly to ask, but that always made him happy to know anyway. "Do you eat while you swim or do you, like, find a little resting place?"

Thena shrugged (which she had learned from watching him and Sersi). "It depends on what you catch, I suppose. If you have somewhere to be, you then just eat as you go."

"That makes sense," Gil agreed, finishing off his little pile. He smiled as Thena immediately replenished it. He looked up at her with a grin, "you feed me, I feed you?"

She rustled the bag on her lap. "It seems only fair."

Gil pinched a few more morsels between his fingers. "Would you share stuff with your brother?"

Thena immediately let out a loud groan and rolled her eyes.

Gil couldn't help but laugh. "You sound like Sersi did when she was younger."

Thena tilted her head at him, her hair tumbling over her shoulder. "I don't understand that--you seem like so much better a brother than Ikaris."

Gil shrugged, smiling at the topic with love - and exasperation - built right into it. "Yeah, but you don't get along as well when you're younger. When we were kids, it seemed like everything I said annoyed her."

Thena tilted her head a few more times at him. "But she loves you."

Gil beamed. "Yeah, she does--and you always know your sibling loves you, no matter how much you fight. I like to think I was a pretty good brother to her when we were younger."

"I'm sure you were," Thena muttered with absolute certainty, digging into the bag with a renewed fervour. "I think I had to fight Ikaris for everything when we were hatchlings."

That was a cute term for when they were kids. "Siblings fight a lot, I guess."

Thena sighed, though. "We were maybe...more aggressive than some our age."

Gil snorted. He could already imagine his beautiful Angelfish hissing up a storm at her own brother over the littlest thing. "You liked annoying each other?"

She smiled faintly. "I suppose so. And for all his grievances, I admit that there are worse brothers one could have. I can't imagine it at the moment, but I'm sure it's true."

Gil laughed. She certainly sounded like someone who very - very - reluctantly loved her brother despite his faults. "Does he like sardines too?"

Thena gave him a smile that showed off all of her teeth, "hates them."

Gil stood to stir the stew again, "then those are all for you. I'll always have them in the house, too, if I'm not around to cook for you, okay?"

Thena looked from him to the fridge. He had also explained the concept of leftovers, and that she could open any of the containers in there and eat anything she found.

He didn't tell her anything about heating anything up. Something about the idea of Thena and electricity just...made him uncomfortable.

"It's ready!"

Thena looked up at him with a smile as he set down a bowl in front of her, positively heaping with seafood and with a little nori sprinkled on top. "Thank you, Gil."

He blushed. She looked so cute, sitting there with her legs crossed at the ankles, his shirt sleeves billowing around her tiny arms that usually had scales dotted along them. "Anything, anytime, Angelfish."

Thena gave him a grin that he had come to learn was her feeling mischievous, "am I not a cuttlefish, now?"

"Cuddle-fish," he corrected with a grin of his own. She seemed humoured, although her smile turned faintly shy as she looked down at her food. He picked up his spoon and poked at his serving, "that's okay, though. I like having my very own Cuddlefish."

[tamedstray]

@stormsmerchant | 𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒 & 𝐓𝐄𝐋𝐋

A kiss while being reunited after a long time

There. Everything stood still. All at once, every secret meeting, every letter, every dream they shared floods back and he is drowning. Would she even want to see him after so many years? What good were letters when he had spent years in hiding, too afraid to seek her out? It made sense at the time, but when he finally sees her again, he is left wondering why he hadn't been braver. He should have cut a path through the city, fleeing to some far off place where they could have been free, living with the danger but living.

      But none of that mattered. The past drafted away, and all those painful memories would one day fade. But not his love. What he felt was not a memory, but woven into him, having survived on nothing but the thought of her for so long.

      He marches, eyes fixed solely on Beata. What if he blinked, and she was never there? Having dreamed about something for years that it no longer feels real until he embraces her, scared she'll be ripped away from him again, clinging on so tight as if she might slip through his fingers. Not real until he feels the warmth of her breath and the beat of her heart against his chest. There is so much that he has to tell her, but there were no words to adequately express everything he had held onto for so long. Vigor wraps his arms around his love and sobs into her neck, unable to speak. He has to catch his breath before he can muster out one thing. ❝I'm sorry,❞ for not doing more to prevent the attack she suffered, or for not being there sooner, or for simply crying into her when he should be saying, ❝I love you. I'm sorry. I love you—❞ he repeats, until a growing smile stops him.

      Vigor pulls away to take her in, staring into her familiar blue eyes as a rough hand cups her face. His eyes dart to every curve and facet, realising that he had not forgotten a single part of it. Time could never touch her beauty, not to him. He watches Beata's reaction before pulling into a kiss, soft and gentle, even as his other arm is held tight around her. Then again, lips pressed against hers, passionate and desperate, only restraining himself so he might savour it better.

      Overcome with emotion, he steps back and grasps both of Beata's hands. Instinctively, he considers going down on one knee, but given they haven't even spoken in so long, and how poorly that went last time, he instead simply looks into her eyes. She was just as he remembered.

      ❝Can we pretend I never left? Do everything we dreamed of? Because my love never changed, it just grew and grew till it ate away at everything else. I love you, and I'm never leaving again.❞

[saikitsu]

your tags to this post! absolutely!! not to say that i don't enjoy said solomon fics that center around that sadness that derives from lonliness if written exceptionally well, but i think it's very overused. i myself, may write something of that nature as well but it will only add to the mountainous amount of fics that lack a tight grasp onto his character.

as you mentioned, i feel like the only way solomon will ever truly love someone, especially mc, is if they acknowledge that they may not be solomon's only love--especially not his soulmate. maybe in that moment, during those years, you are, but if you claim him as yours and ONLY yours then i think it would be a huge turnoff for him. even in the b-log, he mentions that he hates that sort of thing.

if you attempt to take away his ability to love everything and everyone else around him, you are actively trying to bring him to ruin. i think that's what a lot of people who write solomon don't realize--if he theoretically somehow ends up at a point where he's clinging onto you (which i don't think he'd allow himself to do), is that really love? is that in-character for him? i don't think it is.

i think that if you (mc) learn to see the beauty in things that live longer than you do, and allow yourself to live in the moment with him in spite of what the future may hold, that is what will give both of you the strength to move forward together. that is what brings forth humanity within the two of you; it will always be eternal. when someone brings you a gift like that you don't just forget about it, let alone drop the habit, so quickly. if you're able to lay down your legacy that is based around sincere, human love, an immortal being like solomon will always carry it with him.

he knows what love is, he's tasted it and felt it so intimately before with himself gazing upon the world around him, with past loved ones, and with you. it's why he always tries to cook for everyone and becomes so happy when someone acknowledges the love he puts into his work that he lays down in front of everyone. him being reduced to a human who lacks the philosophies & values he's gained over the years is such a disservice to his character.

and i think too many people in this fandom, whether they love solomon or not, tend to forget that.

i'm glad you enjoyed my tags!! it was a lovely post so of course i had to give my thoughts. and i agree completely! it's not that the pain and loneliness of the only immortal human isn't an avenue worth exploring in writing, but when it's the only one that's being explored, well.. like you said, it's overused, and not often true to his character.

one of the things i enjoy a lot abt solomon is that as his own life is endless so is his capacity for love, for growth, for knowledge - it's a large part of what i imagine mc falls in love with about him. to see him reduced to a depressed, codependent, miserable being... it feels a little off, right? like, is that what you want? for him to lament your mortality before you're even gone? i think it's just so much more beautiful and fulfilling to write him as i think he truly would be - grateful to have you for however long you remain, loving you wholly and with a fervor that isn't diminished but rather enriched by the brevity of your time together.

i think maybe this phenomena is a little encouraged because the main romanceables - the demon brothers - tend to give off that possessive vibe, you know. they're always on abt how you only need them and you're the only one they love and you belong to each other and they own you and you own them - and i get it! i understand the appeal to some degree. it's nice to be centered in someone's life. and it's easy to take that and apply it to solomon because most players know so little abt him, and it's the baseline of love and romance that we're given in the game. but it's just not true to who he is. he knows so much, he's seen so much and learned and loved and held it all in the palms of his hands. so you don't need to be the one true love of his life! he's got plenty of it, the curiosity to know you, the will to love you - it's infinite, all of that, even if you aren't. just appreciate him for who he is, and love him while you can, and be happy that he gets to go on and keep learning and loving long after you're gone. you may not be the biggest part of his life, but it's alright. he was a beautiful part of yours.

if you're able to lay down your legacy that is based around sincere, human love, an immortal being like solomon will always carry it with him. he knows what love is, he's tasted it and felt it so intimately before with himself gazing upon the world around him, with past loved ones, and with you.

yes! gah! engraving these words into my brain right now! it's so nice to be able to talk about him with someone that i feel actually understands his character, his motivations, and who loves him as much as i do. someday we'll turn the tide on all the mischaracterization of him floating around on this site lol -v-

[remmammie]

Since TWEWY was added in Kingdom Hearts ♥️ : DDD. I was thinking Misaki Shiki x Male! Reader where the two of them are in an amusement park and reader has a Polaroid camera to take photos of the park and Shiki.

I apologise for this taking so long! Between college and hobbies, I've been stressed for time, but I'll always have time for you guys! I do have some exams coming up, though, so I'll let those pass before opening up my asks again. Anyway, Shiki! My love! Enjoy some scenario headcanons for such a precious character~

Shiki x M!Reader at an Amusement Park HCs

If she's going out anywhere, you know Shiki is coming out in her best clothes. She embraces the fun and bright colours of an amusement park and, though she doesn't insist that you match per se, she'd be over the moon to see you looking your best as well. If you let her, she'll happily pick out a handsome outfit for you - after all, if she wants to work in the clothing industry, she must know a lot about men's fashion!

During this "getting ready" period, Shiki whips out a disposable camera.

"What's that for?"

"For taking photos, silly! I want to commemorate this forever! I'll pin them up on my corkboard at home, ooh! And you can take some too!" Shiki keeps rambling about all the different places, rides, and poses she wants to include in the photos, acting like a real model. You can't help but smile and nod.

As soon as she's secured the camera in a satchel bag, Shiki is tugging you out of the door, into your chosen mode of transport and is practically buzzing the entire ride to the amusement park. You both have been planning this trip forever; you once slipped up and called it a "date" which left Shiki in flustered fits of laughter.

Once you arrive, Shiki's eyes are positively glittering with awe: all the flashing lights, the glorious smell of trashy food, the bustling people all with different stories, and, the best of all, experiencing it with you. It's the first photo she takes.

"Come on! Pose with me! Get over here, you goof!" She bundles you over to her side, standing on her toes with the camera stretched over her head. She smiles, teeth and all, almost as if the strings holding such a grin up will snap! Her other hand grips yours tight and Shiki angles it secretly so the photos captures the intimate moment.

Shiki has been to an amusement park before - she's likely gone with her friends from school - but it's a lot different when you're accompanied by your partner. Yet, she can't be nervous around you, especially when there's so much to do with you!

If you're the type of person who likes rides, I'm sure Shiki is an adrenaline junkie too - she'd go on pretty much anything with you, often taking photos getting on the ride, then getting off. As for anything that goes too fast or too high for her, Shiki will cling onto your arm for dear life, screaming from pure amusement, laughing like a complete madwoman. She's enjoying herself, don't worry!

If you're not the type to go on rides, Shiki insist that you try some stall games together: hooking ducks, throwing darts and balls, kicking a football into a certain hole, etcetera.

"Isn't this the part where you swoop in like my hero and win me a big stuffed animal?" she suggests with a cheeky wink. You sigh and rustle the hair on top of her head. Shiki has just wasted at least half of your money trying to win a stuffie, now she's practically begging you to try and win one for her. Whether you're successful or not doesn't actually matter to her because she'll tease you either way.

Of course, you two need to eat at some point. After insisting that you should get the rides out of the way first lest Shiki wants to feel sick all night, you decide to invest in some trashy, amusement park food of your choice. Shiki's all for it: hot dogs, ramen, ice cream, doughnuts, crepes, and pancakes! This is where her taste buds thrive. She makes sure to get a really unflattering image of you both eating. When you try and get her to get rid of it, she just cackles and hides it from your view, giggling while she looks at it.

"Oh! I'm totally showing this to Eri! She'll get a real kick out of it, haha!"

At some point during all of this, you secretly take the camera from Shiki and take some more candid photographs of her. Shiki is so gorgeous without even trying, you know this... She might be playing with the stuffed animal you got her or if she decided to bring Mr. Mew with her when you snap a quick photo without her noticing. Pocket it to put it somewhere special later, or show her, tell her she's pretty without even putting in any effort. She'll giggle and blush a little, telling you off for being such a sap.

[your-cry-baby]

I'm here to talk about things I can talk about aloud. I'm from 1999. I feel traumatized by parts of my childhood, I have thought when little about hurting people, I wished people dead and thought about throwing a cinder block at my sister's head who used to bother me a lot and my parents intervention was lost, I hated my father so much for his verbal abuse and tantrums, I saw him negligent and abusive. I saw how my mother played like there was nothing going on when I witnessed everything in my cradle and when I was crying and no one knew why, at times I felt suffocated and as if my tongue was cut from my mouth, I felt like I didn't know how to speak or verbalize all the thoughts inside me. The only calm I had was brief visits at my grandma's house and my vacations in it, my grandma is the only person I connect with and accept her affect towards me. I grew up as a quiet girl, no interest in being intimate, not much desire to go out to have fun or socialize, at times I wondered why I was that way, -it's funny to remember my cousin not so long ago showed me a Morrissey video where he talked about how he was almost the same way-.

Because of the way I felt and the way I thought, I even wondered if I had psychopathic traits, if I was a narcissist, if I had BPD or if I was just highly depressed. My first love was a girl and after that I liked some boys, counted with just one hand, what I felt for them didn't trespass nothing more than that, a like. I started feeling more depressed and thinking about dying, I saw myself many times dead with my imagination, that much is how I thought about it. I felt suffocated as a teenage girl, by the hypervigilance of my parents but much more from my mother, it started to get harder to get good notes, and the screams at my house made me feel tired and stressed, rigid and angry, I fight back my father agressions in mind of the times he intimidated me and the time he hit me as a child, I fight back at him in the same way he did, with agression, to stop him and put me above him, that's how I turned to be the boy we see stepping for his mother when there's screams and broken glasses. I still hated him so much I felt so much rage about it. I turned into an adult and cut that anger. I chose a career that didn't suit me just because it seemed safe, and then I fell in love, with a man that made me discover more about myself, I realized I'm not rigid, not frigid or cold inside, I realized I really liked the way he made me feel so alive, it was like injecting myself with some type of heroin, and I felt an ardent desire for the first time in my life for a men I could talk to, trust and be open, be myself fully.

Loving him felt like holding a baseball bat inside a 'rage room', talking about sex was like squeezing something inside my hands until it exploded, like a bite clinging tight to my skin, like breathing, breathing and keeping breathing.

I felt so different but so normal. The way I felt made me special apart from the rest.

I spent 7 years on a bond with him. 4 of those 7 years I stopped to see him and everything was via text message, I still felt the same way but my feeling for him matured too. I doubt many people believe you can have or keep something like that, via online, but remember, how in the past people used to write letters to lovers they didn't know when they could see each other again. I loved his big dark brown eyes, his long burnett hair and playful personality, that boy was like a fire that kept me warm, God, I can't explain how alive and free he made me feel, I felt kinda liberated. A true magnetism. With time, I realized too, what people meant when they say "I have been waiting for you for so long" it's not just something corny, it's not just words talked on air, it means I have something in me I know you have too, I can take my veil off me and show you how I truly am, I can feel all my senses alive with you and explore life itself, and that feeling I know for sure people who aren't THAT normal are the only ones who have it.

I realized too I have some type of compulsion, I realized feeling like I'm getting out of breath as if I'm going to die excites me, the agitation itself, more than anything... the adrenaline. It excites me to feel my own mortality or feel closer to what could be the end of life. I wonder if I kinda like violence. I suppose it's some type of substitute to drain what i don't know happens inside me, like those stress balls you hold and squeeze.

I ask myself if all women feel like that? Like that blue dressed woman in the movie 'Thirst', when I heard that dialogue I said to myself -No-.

I do feel like I'm crazy, like I'm a crazy woman, I don't know why sex or sexuality makes me feel that way or why I feel off. I feel like that familiar image of a crazy woman. I identify with that woman in "The piano teacher" movie in some ways, Anna Karenina and Madame Bovary.

It's so sad to be a limited woman. I can't understand how most of them don't commit s******.

He, the man I loved did it, a year ago, in May, the mother's month. I told him two months earlier I was worried for his well-being, he seemed to be going through something again, I told him I was worried cause he told me he wanted to do that to himself one or two years ago, so I insisted until he responded.

I wonder if it's something I made, if they told him anything or if he felt something out of his control. It just seems so fast decided, like if a bunch of thoughts rushed his mind like a blinking. Was he intoxicated?, was he angry?, worst, alone?.

________

I feel so lost and I fell so hard on everything, I don't know how to deal with that and I ask myself so many things. People have looked down on my connection with him as nothing too much for various reasons; because I didn't see him in person anymore, because he was in a relationship, because I was a constant in his life and we were just lovers. I don't have any connections with his friends or family, I assisted the chapel to see him in a coffin dressed all in black like he always used. No one had any idea who I was, I just cried there in some way alone, with two friends and in the arms of my cousin who did not know him. I was aware of something going on inside him and I tried at times to invite him to open up more but he didn't want to. I can't believe no one who was supposed to be much closer had any idea about it, even his various girlfriends. I remember how he told me why I didn't hate him when we went through hard times. I wonder when he decided it or what happened, it hurts me to think about his pain, I can't think about his mother, if I loved him so much, why wouldn't she?, I always wanted to know her and to send her roses, cakes, any gifts on mother's day. I regret not having taken him at his word when he told me that we should get together once and for all, to live together. We had talked about seeing us having a baby, and it was the most expected and normal thought after all. I'm very angry at what happened, and it hurts me to live like this, I get pulsations about hurting myself, I feel a tickling of violence to throw towards me or anyone I feel guilty of his unexpected unwell after everything was fine when I was in contact. I only hope to die quickly after it. I can't see myself growing older but I'm not sure about leaving all cause I'm not s******al by myself as I was as a 12 year old.

I empathize with women who are judged.

I don't know why he died if it would make more sense if who died was me.

I shared fears with him and thoughts that I had, although the one who said most of them out loud was never me. I was afraid of misstepping the subject or contaminating with a thought by speaking. Fear of a cloudy dark thought out in the world I shared with him.

My thoughts are diverse, I hate, I cry, I'm numb and simultaneously. I already stopped eating until I looked kinda anorexic. Sometimes I wish his mother's guilt would last her life but I think I wish it on me too. I wish it on a girl and everyone who could mistreat him in some way at some point. I get so mad seeing pictures of him laying on bed or on a couch cause I see his unwell. I hate. I cry thinking about his mom and all of his family and friends. I never wanted this to happen to his son. It torments me but I think I deserve it cause I saw myself as selfish sometimes when it was hard to understand my feelings. Did it have to do with meeting me? Did I squeeze too much? How could it have been different? My ignorance and lack of knowledge to act and respond quickly to my intuition, I can't believe this happened to him when i agreed to visualize him away or with someone else until old, I can't believe he died when I got over that sense of possession. Sometimes it feels like I choose death for him. As I speak it I'm not asking anyone to tell me it's not my fault.

I remember how I felt on those days, as if something big covered me above me. I remember looking in the mirror and thinking that I was going to die, I was losing weight for no reason. I remember wanting to share that strange feeling with him, let him know something felt wrong but I didn't.

I wish I could have expressed much more about my love and feelings. My passion was never empty, it was me longing for him, always close, as close he could get to me, closer as if it was the ending of our body's. I suppress what happened but I recall it and I find love and I tell myself that yes, there was love. It was love even when I couldn't find words to express it, It was love and the urge to give it to him.

I'm angry cause I feel like he left me here. But he abandoned everything.

I don't hate him I hate what happened to him. I hate that he didn't speak about it more, I hate that he was misunderstood and underrated.

Sometimes I think I envy him, he can't feel, see or hear anything anymore, he no longer needs to worry about money or the future, he no longer needs to carry himself around as I do with myself.

I don't believe in heaven or god, I don't believe in seeing our deceased ones, I don't believe in reunite. And thinking about how he no longer feels pain is the most stupid comfort I could hear.

I remember October, when I watched "The Lover" and "Hiroshima mon amour" and thought about watching those movies with him, to make a point across, to share what I saw in them with him. To tell him it's US but I don't want to be that type of tragic story so let's talk, let's be together, let's live, let's do something about it and not waste more time.

I wonder if he ever felt my love, if he died knowing how much I loved him.

Cause my love was intense just as he and I.

_________

I indeed have some problems with my future. But I have been dragging it as myself for some time, around the back of my head it have always been a fear of not having stability, answers, reaching my goals and feeling inadequate, cause it has been difficult almost all the time and I can't hit were others do, for me, it's difficult multiplied. When I was a teen I used to think about reincarnation and life as some type of game, so I could end this level and start again, cause maybe, maybe I wasn't made for this chapter because it wasn't going to end well. But I really liked who I was, and the brief visits to my grandma made me change my mind. When I face my own adversity I think about how I'm supposed to be dead since a long time.

I think I feel disconnected from everything, from my parents and my environment, from the world itself. Material things do not give me pleasure, there are no things that give me pleasant satisfaction and I somehow feel that the kind of life in my industrial city threatens my identity. Sometimes I feel like I lose parts of myself with each hard hit I receive, before I used to draw, I no longer do it, I used to love languages, now I don't see any case for it, I feel I lose my interest along with my skin or my will to live, along with my efforts to carry a rhythm, to fit and function in society as an adult. I feel exhausted and have a problem with stress. I feel like the Hikomori.

I don't know what to expect from life but I feel broken and it's so stupid that life or anything let me know or touch something like what I had with him and then take it away from me. How do you live after that? How is going to make you feel something that has never made you feel anything before? My hometown looked different with him in it. At times I feel sick and twisted thinking about him, and lusting for him when he no longer waits outside my globe. Am I going to get crazier than I already feel?

I want to go out just to rot in the sun, in the arid climate of my awful city.